The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1850-1873, 1873-05-16
UNDER THE CLOAK.

| UNDER The CLOAK.
My Night ON the Railway.
If there be thing in the world tina
my soul hateth, it is long night jour
ney by rail. In the old coaching days
do not think that should have minded
it, passing swiftly through a summer
night on the top of a speedy coach
with the star arch black-blue above
ones head, the sweet smell of earth
and her numberless flowers and grasses
in ones nostrils, and the pleasant trot
trot, trot, trot, of the four strong horses
in ones ears. But by railway i'm 6
stuffy little compartment, with nothing
to amuse you if you keep awake; with
dim lamp hanging above you, tantal.
izing you with the idea that you car
read by its light, and when you try, sat
isfactorily proving to you that you car
not, and, if you sleep, breaking you1
neck, or at least stiffening it, by the
brutal arrangement of the hard cush-
ions. These thoughts pass sulkily and
rebelliously through my head as I sit iii
my salon in the Ecu, at Geneva, on the
afternoon of the fine autumn day on
which, in an evil hour, / have settled to
take my place in the night train far
Paris, 1 have put off going as long as
can.
like Geneva, and am leaving some
| pleasant and congenial friends, but now,
go / must. My husband is to meet me
at the station in Paris at o'clock to-
morrow morning. Six o'clockl what a
barbarous hour at which to arrive I
am putting on my bonnet and cloak |
look at myself in the glass with an air
of anticipated disgust. Yes, I look
trim and spruce enough nova not dis
agreeable object, perhaps-with sleek
hair, quick and alert eyes, and pink
| tinted cheeks. Alas at o'clock to-
morrow morning what a different tale
there viii be to tell Disheveled, dusty
locks, half open, weary eyes, q dis
ordered dress and a green-colored coun-
| tenance.
1 turn away with q pettish gesture,
and rehecting that at least there is no
wisdom in living my miseries twice
over, go downstairs, and get into the
hired open carriage which awaits me.
My man and maid follow with the lug
gage. / give stricter iniunctions than
ordinary to my maid never for one mo-
ment to lose her hold of the dressing
case which contains, as it happens, a
great many more valuable jewels than
people are won't to travel in foreign
parts with, nor of a certain costly and
beautiful Dresden china and gold Louis
Quatorze clock, which 1 am carrying
home at present to my people. We
reach the station, and strae htway be-
take myself to the first-class sale dat
tente, there to remain penned up till
the officials undo the gates of purgatory
| and release us-an arrangement whose
wisdom I have yet to learn. There are
| ten minutes to spare, and the sale is
| filling fuller and fuller every moment.
| Chiefly my countrymen, cOuntrywomen,
and country children, beginning to
troop home to their partridges l look
curiously round at them, speculating as
to which of them will be my companion
or companions through the night
There are no very unusual types );
girls in sailor hats and blonde hair
fringes strong-minded old maids in
painstakingly ugly water-proofs /; bald
ish fathers fattish mothers a German
or two, with prominent pale eyes and
| spectacles. / have Just decided ON the
companions l should prefer; a large
| young man, who belongs to nobody
and looks as if he spent most of his life
in laughing-alas he is not likely he
IL
some and prosT Terous-lookiDg young
| couple. They are more likely, as very
probably, in the mans case, the bride
| love will overcome the cigar-love The
porter comes up The key turns in the
lock; the doors open. At first I am
| standing close to them, flattening my
nose against the glass, and looking out
on the pavement; but as the pass ngers
III
from my prominent position, anticipat-
ing rush for carriages. L hate and
dread exceedingly a crowd, and would
much prefer at any time to miss my
train rather than be squeezed and JOS
tied by one. In consequence, my maid
and / are almost the last people to
emerge, and have the last and worst
choice of seats. We run along the
train looking in the footman, my maid
and /. Full-full everywhere!
"Dames seules ?" asks the guard.
Certainly not ! Neither danes
seules' nor 'fumeurs ;" but if it must
be one or the other, 'fumeurs.
am growing nervous, when see the
footman, who is a little ahead of us,
standing with an open carriage door in
his hand, and signing to us to make
haste. All it is all right it always
comes right when one does not fuss
ones self.
" Plenty of room here m ; only two
gentlemen.
l put my foot on the high step and
climb in. Rather uncivil of the two gen.
tlemen neither of them offers to help
me but they are not looking this way,
| suppose. Mind the dressing case -
cry nervously, as l stretch out my
hand to help the maid Watson up. The
man pushes her from behind in she
comes-dressing-c case, clock, and ALL
Here we are for the night
am so busy and amused looking out
of the window, seeing the different par
ties bidding their friends good-by, and
watching with Indignation the barbaric
and malicious manner In which the por-
ters hurl the luckless luggage about,
that we have steamed out of the station,
and are fairly off for, Parisbefore II
have the curiosity to glance at my fell
low-passengers. Well when l do take
look at them. I do not make much of
it. Watson and occupy the two seats
by one window, facing one another; our
fellow-travelers have not taken the
other two window seats they occupy
the middle ones, next us. They are
both reading, behind newspapers. Well!
we shall not get much amusement out
of them. give them up as bad Job.
All ! if L could have had my wish, and
had the laughing young man, and the
pretty young couple, for company, the
night would not perhaps have seemed
so long. However, / should have been
mortified for them to have seen how
green 1 looked when the dawn came 4;
aud, as to these commisvoyageurs, do
their eyes. Thus, all no doubt is for
the best ; and at all events it is a good
trite copy-bookNnaxim to say so. So /
forget all about them, fix my eyes on
! the Landscape racing by. and fall into q