Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1869-08-17
Marrying a Pickpocket.

Ralph Will perSlSt-m0St mlSchlev-
ously, as | say-in telling the child
ren all sorts of nonsensical stories
about it; never the simple truth, but
always some absurd fable or other,
full of extravaganza, which only stim-
ulates their curiosity. No sooner is
he out of the house than Edgar or
Belle, or both together, will march up
to me with the gravest of little faces,
and the solemn inquiry, "Did you re-
ally pick somebody's pocket, man.
ma ?" or "Did papa really find you in
the old Black Maria wagon ?" and of
course they were not old enough to
understand the actual story, or to re-
member it rightly if | were to tell
them a dozen times over. So | think,
as [ have thought many times before,
that | will write it all down just as it
happened, nothing extenuate," as Mr..
Booth says at the theatre; and then
the dear boy and girl will never get
wrong fancy in their heads; for |
might lose, in time, the vivid remem-
brance Of every incident Of it which |
have now and as to Ralph, | think he
has made so many fanciful additions
from time to time, all in fun, that he
might almost begin to believe some of
them were true.
We read almost every day in the
newspapers of worthy old ladies and
gentlemen, who, at threescore and
ten, take their first ride by railroad,
after living all their lives within hear
ing of the locomotive whistle; or who
die without ever having tried the ex-
periment,or even seeing train of cars.
So | suppose it is not altogether in
credible, and perhaps not SO very dis
creditable, that |, Mary Gilman, had
grown to be q woman at the foot of a
mountain from whose summit the
dome of Boston State House can be
seen in a clear day, and yet had never
taken a nearer view of it, nor. indeed,
set foot in any city whatever. [ had
no business to take me from home
! journeys for pleasure were rare with
the hard working residents of our
neighborhood, busy as they were
through the summer, and snow bound
in winter; and my mother had always
said. "Another time, child" when
had teased to be allowed to go with
Uncle John on his quarterly trips to
replenish the stock of his little store
Now | was alone in the world my
mourning clothes were almost worn
out; the school term was over, and
the money for teaching ten weeks
thirty dollarS-was in my pocket
and | had an advertisement in the
Journal, and secured a position as al
assistant, at a much better salary, il
high school liz a largo manufacturing
town in Maine. To get there must
pass through Boston; and had stud
led myself into a headache over 6
railroad guide, and had aScertaineC
that, by taking an early morning
train, l could reach that city in time
|, TO leave it at noon on an eastward
train, and be at my destination before
dark.
So had all my worldly goods il
my trunk twenty-four hours in ad
vance; spent the last day in bidding
good-by to old family friends, as wei
as to the little people to whose educa
ton | had devoted my last year, an(
the pleasant households with which
had boarded in rapid succession dur
) ing the last term; and III the gra.
winter morning l took my seat in tn
"jumper," which replaced the lumber
+ ing stage coach of summer, and wa
driven across the creaking snow t.
the station. | was not sorry tina
there was not a person I knew wait
l ing there for the same train; for
!, was old fashioned enough in thos
l days to like to enjoy first sensation
I alone, and | felt quite in the mood O.
daring diScoverer at the thought o.
making my way to Boston and throug
it on my own responsibility.
! a suppose l have plenty of time t
: take the 1920 train from the Main
h Station" said l, when the urbane COZ
ductor vouchsafed me ten seconds 0
3 so of his precious time, to take tn
u ticket held in readiness for him.
1920 train taken off, ma'am," sal
i he: change of time last week"
l almost felt my courage takin
d wing at this first obstacle to the eas
4 programme had marked out; but
u retained enough of it to snatch {
c this hurried official the next time h
= passed me, with the query when til
u next train would start for Portland.
u AT 2.45, ma am" said he, as pla'
idly as before.
Is After a brisk resort to the ment;
y arithmetic which had lately filled S
+ large share in my daily life, fe
% reassured. Two hours and half To-
would still carry me to my destin'
10 tion in season to find the committe
u man who had secured my boardin
III place for me, before he would be lik
ly to be inaccessible. Two hours an
half in Boston would give scope fc
|" an amount of agreeable exploratio
n and adventure | had not dared
P. hope for. l had read in some phil
Re sophical newspaper paragraph tn;
r the first requisite of a good travell'
tn is coolness; so | rose above the CO
IN dition Of worrying, and amused m
a self with a study of the faces and ma
/: ners of my fellew passengers.
In the seat before me was hapI
ed young woman with her baby, whic
Notwithstanding the early hour
n, which it must have been taken fro
,r, its cradle, never once intruded i
I'D voice upon the attention of its elder
but slept and smiled with wonderf
IT. amiability. Behind me were coup
on easy Irritation terms, who took l
It; pains to keep their conversation fro
or ao,1 fho foI,uno 4