The Western advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1872-1874, 1874-05-23
~ :
A Sad Story.
The following touching incident Is re-
lated in the Denver (Col.) Tribune:

and rustic upon the platform outside
and she came stumbling in. At the same
instant there came in with her q rudy
checked, blue-eyed boy, whose years were
not counted above ten. She carried in
her arms bundle closely and carefully
wrapped, at one end of which tiny face
appeared, a diminutive copy of her own.
Carefully placing this bundle upon seat,
she next dragged in box and basket,
and the strong odor Of bilge water, such
as ever pervades the steera9e or between
decks of the emigrant vessel, announced
to the inditterently interested passengers
that my tellow-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
upon the next seat to my own, gazing
YEARLY out upon the wide, bleak monot-
ony Of the plains, observed several
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 vain at
tempt to comfort his mother" All this
l observed from behind my book, which
book proved a medium Of communica-
ton between my fellow-passenger and
myself.
She had been looking at the back of
my book attentively for some time, when
she broke the silence by saying:
~ beg pardon, sir, but can you tell me
when we shall arrive docking at an en-
velope) at Bijou Stationr"
"To-morrow evening some time, if all
goes WE'LL" I replied.
Is the country out there as wild and
sparsely settled as this, sir?"
Yes, madam, or more so. It depends
very much upon the portion of the Bijou
you go to-"
The ice being broken between myself
and my fellow-passenger, she soon fell
victim to professional American news
paper interviewer, to whom she told her
story.
But this story would have but little in.
terest for the general reader, were it not
for the sequel, which is herewith given.
will give her story as near as possible in
her own words:
Yes, sir, l am from England. I left
there three weeks ago. l observed you
reading Dickens, and I took the liberty
Of speaking tOyou. Do admire Dickens?
Yes, sir, l loved him. am a relative of
his, and have ofttimes visited him at his
place at Gad's Hill. l am from Gloster.
Doyou know Gloster? 1t is a dear old
town. We lived just within the shadow
OF that great cathedral "a sigh) Oh, the
dear old town. l expect we will never
meet again. It is great old structure,
sir. You can read all about it in Uncle
Charles last book, The Mystery of Ed
win Brood He describes our town lust
as it is: We all loved Mr.. Dickens /
walked with him many times in the grand
old structure, for he made our home his
home when he came to Gloster. He only
lived ten miles away, and frequently came
TO see US while he was working
upon his last book. l observed you
reading one of his works, and I
made so free as to speak, for am-oh |!
50 very lonesome and strange here! Did
come all the way alone, sir? Yes, sir.
But it was wrong in me to attempt it.
think sometimes shall give up before
reach my husband. But Charles is quite
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
like the States, did you say? Oh, sir,
don't like them at all! like the State
OF Cincinnati the best of any have been
In. l stopped at Halifax. It is a dull,
cold, miserable place. They kept us three
days at Baltimore to discharge cargo. At
Cincinnati my luggage was smashed, and
l had to purchase deal boxes to pack in.
They charged me sovereign for them.
was detained one day at St. Louis-a
Nasty, gloomy, smoky place, is it not, sir
At Leavenworth they refused to take my
English gold for my hotel bill, and was
in great trouble and distress. Did I get
my luggage all rights Yes, sir. There
is nine hundred pounds of it. Why did
I bring so much, did YOU say! WIN.
sir, my husband wrote me that he had cot
a perfect little Eden of place in Colora-
do. Yes, sir, he calls our new home
Eden, and l thought l would bring as
many of the old things from home as
possible, and brought box of tea, a
barrel OF sugar, several bolts of long cloth,
some boots and clothing, and at least q
hundred different kinds Of garden seeds.
we will be so happy when I get home.
But sir (crying), really think 1 never
Will reach home again. Three weeks OF
lite. WV '''O
what is my husband doing in Colorado.
did you say, sir? He is sheep farming
He was tailor and gentlemen's furnishel
IN Chester. We lived in one house fol
nineteen years. My father kept the business
before married my husband. We were
doing very we'll and getting rich, but my
husband, who had been sailor when q
boy, and who was born in Brazil, was
always disconnected and wanted to travel
In an evil hour consented to sell out oul
business IN tAoeter. He took 81, 900 with
MN ana started to Colorado. His letters
which he wrote from Colorado were very
1nterestlng; they were printed in oul
county paper q home. Oh, sir, if you
only could know how tired am of travel
ing, how lonesome feel here upon these
plains, so many thousands of miles from
my dear old home, you would realize
how anxious am to meet my husband. ,
The sun and the train rolled on west
ward, and toward evening on the second
day out from Kansas City came in sigh
of Bijou., My fellow-passenger was al
hustle and excitement; she had been hal
dozen times to the glass to adjust he1
hair 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 GU
OF the window-looking for Father.'
.Oh, mother, I think see father,
said Charley. mo, mother, it is some
one else. Oh, see coffin, mother; some
person is dead; they are taking the coftir
out OF wagon, mother. There it is,
mOtner; there, we are past it now. Now