The Hickman courier. [volume] (Hickman, Ky.) 1859-current, 1874-07-11
TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION

side-and she came tumbling in. At
the same instant there came in with her
a rudy checked, blue-eyed boy, whose
years were not counted above ten. She
carried in her arms a bundle, closely
and carefully wrapped, at one end of
which-a tiny face appeared, a diminu-
tive copy of her own. Carefully plac-
ing this bundle upon a seat, she next
dragged in box and a basket, and the
strong odor of bilge- water, such as ever
pervades the steerage or between decks
of the emigrant vessel, announced to
the indifferently interested passengers
that my fellow-passenger was an emf
grant.
She was not more than thirty; she was
fair and appeared as strange and timid
as the antelope we saw from the car
window gliding over the plains. But
no one spoke to her, no one presumed
to claim acquaintance with this travel
soiled, weary-looking young woman,
and as she sat on the next seat tony own,
gazing YEARLY out upon the W bleak
mopotony of the plains, I obseAed sew
eral times during the day that her large
blue eyes filled with tears, and that the
little boy in Scotch cap, knee-breeches
and black hose busted himself In a vain
attempt to comfort his mokler." All
this [ observed from behind Nly book,
which book proved a medium of COM
munication between my fellOw-passen-
ger and myself
She hal been looking at the back of
my book attentively for some time,
when she broke the silence by saying ::
Z" beg pardon, sir, but can you tell
me when we shall arrive Cooking at an
envelope) at Bliou Station %
Tomorrow evening sometime, If all
goes WELL" 1 replied.
SIS the country out there as wild and
sparsely settled as this, sir %
Yes, madam, or more so. Tt de
ponds very much upon the portion. OF
the Bijou you goto.p
The ice being broken between mysSf
and my fellOw-passenger, she soon fell
a victim to professional American
told her story.
But this story would have but little
interest for the general reader, were it
not for the sequel, which is herewith
given. Twill give her story as near as
possible in her own words.
g Yes, sir, I am from England. left
there three weeks ago. L observed you
reading Dickens, and 1 took the liberty
of speaking to you. Do I admire Dick
ems? Yes, sir, I loved him I am a
relative of his, and have ofttimes visi-
ted him at his place at Gad's Hill.
am from Gloster. Do you know Clos
ter? 1t is a dear old town. We lived
Just within the shadow of that great ca
thedral Ca sigh. Oh, the dear old town.
l expect we will never meet again. 1t
is great old structure, sir. You can
read all about it in Uncle Charles last
book, The Mystery of Edwin brood.
He describes our town just as 1t Is. We
all loved Mr.. Dickens. l walked with
him many times in the grand old struct-
ure, for he made our home his home
when he came to Gloster. He only
lived ten miles away, and frequently
came TO us while he was working upon
his last book. 1 observed you reading
one of his works, and made 50 free as
to speak, for / am-Oh so very lOIA
me and strange here Did I cojNe
all tie way alone, sir? Yes, sir. But
it was wrong in me to attempt it. l
think sometimes l shall give up before
/ reach my husband. But Charles is
quite a man to me. You have no idea,
sir, how clever and kind my little son
has been to me, both on the voyage and
| at Halifax, at Baltimore and Cincinnati.
( How do 1 like the states, did you say
Oh, sir, [ don't like them at ali I like
the state of Cincinnati the best of any
have been in. stopped at Halifax
It is a duh, cold, miserable place.
They kept us three days in Baltimore,
to discharge cargo. At CINCINNATI my
| luggage was smashed, and I Cd to pur-
/ chase deal boxes to pack in. They
| charged me sovereign for them. was
/ detained one day at St. Lonis-a nasty,
| gloomy, smoky place, is it not, sir? AT
LeavenwOrth they refused to teke my
English gold for my hotel bM add
/ was in great trouble and distr $. Did
/ l get my luggage all right Yes, sir.
| There is nine hundred pounds of it.
Why did bring so much, did you say:
| Why, sir, nv husband wrote me that
/ he had got a perfect little Eden of q
! place in Colorado. Yes, sir, he calls
our new home Eden, and I thought !
/ would bring as many of the old things
from home as possible, and I brought a
box of tea, barrel OF sugar, several
bolts of long cloth, same boots and
clothing. and at least a hundred differ
ent kinds of garden-seeds. We will be
so happy when 1 get home. But, sir
(cryine). I really think l never viii
reach home again. Three weeks OF
travel all alone has nearly cost me my
life.
What is my husband doing in Ooro-
RADIO, did you say, sir He is sheep
farming. He was a tailor and gentle
men s-fIlrnisher IN Gloster. We lived
in one house for nineteen years. My
father kept the business before mar
ried nv husband. We were doing very
well and getting rich, but my husband
who had been a sailor when a boy, an6
who was born in Brazil, was always dis
contented and wanted to travel. In an
evil hour / consented to sell ont oul
business in Gioster. He took e5, O0(
with him and started to Colorado. His
/ letters which he wrote from Colorado
were very interesting they were printed
in our country paper at home. Oh, sir
| if you only could know how tired ] an
of travelling, how lonesome I feel here
upon these plains, so many thousands
of miles from my dear old h ne, you
would realize how anxious l amy o meet
my husband
I The sun and the train rolled on west.
/ ward, and toward evening on the second
/ day out from Kansas City came in sight
of Bijou. Ny fellow-passepker was all
hustle and excitement; sheN6ad beer
half dozen times TO the glass to adjust
! her halr and apparel. The beautiful
little boy in his Scotch cap, blue Jacket
and black stockings had had his golden
locks freshly curled, his rosy cheeks
washed, and stood upon the car-seat
looking ont of the window-looking for
IS Father"
sob, mother, 1 think see father, .
said Charley. No, mother, it is some
one else. Oh, I see a coffin, mother
some person is dead they are taking
the coffin ont of wagon, mother. There
it is, mother there, we are past it.now.
Now we shall see father, we are hons, -
The train stopped. The weary, trasN
ed soiled niece of Charles Dickens GATH
cred up her parcels and her cloaks, and
stepped out upon the wild, bleak spot
called Bijou Station. The passengers,
all interested in the laxative and I'M
sophisticated pair of travellers, crowded
to the windows of the car to witness
the expected meeting between husband