The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1878-04-04
Waiting for the Train.

If a man was dcsirous Of lcngthening
out his days, or OF making his life seem
long to him, we would suggest that he
pass all his leisure time waiting for the
train.
One might live hundred years in
forty by this way of doing.
When does time ever pass so slowly as
when we are waiting for train? Were
ever hands Of clock so long in getting
round as the hands of a clock in railway
station?
You are generally, if you arc woman,
little too early for the train. Men man
age it better, and contrive to he little
late. They had sooner run for it then
wait. And so had we, if only our petit
coats would allow us. But in the present
fashion Of clothing, it is as impossible for
woman to do anything at running as it
is for setting hen to operate sewing
machine.
You are a'Wavs apprehenslve OF being
too late; and, GREATNESS and excited, you
glance ut the clock, and find to your sur.
ptise that you have half an hour to wait.
You buy your ticket, feeling, after the
piece OF pasteboard is in your possession,
that you are half way there wherever
"thcre" may be. You slip the ticket INTO
your glove, to guard against accidents,
and take an account of stock, as repre-
sentcd by your bundles and packages.
No woman can go anywhere comfortably
and respectfully, without three bunoles
certainly,
You find them all right, and pile them
f,y1 nf TIM
| apprehcnsive at the woman on the other
corner, and wonder if she is thoroughly
honest, ana if it will he safe to leave your
belongings there while you 60 to the look
ing glass and see if your hat is on
| straight.
This satisfactorily determined, and you
look at the clock to find only five min
utes of the time you must wait gone.
You begin to feel restless. You count
| the number OF panels in the door of the
room, and study the grain Of the ceilings,
and wonder when the stove was BACKED
last; and then YOU take to reading the
framed advertisements hung upon the
walls, of this and that Life Insurance
Company: and this and that Organ Com
pany; and you look at the cngravings of
the Organ Companys buildings with in
tercst; and contemplate the gaily painted
posters Of DR.. Somebody's Stomach Bittcrs
| with attentive eyes.
Anything to take up the time.
You go to the windows and watch the
peanut-man across tho street. Strange
how much interest he has for you. You
never noticed a pcanut-man before. And
tn, organ grinder ploddinng along over
the way, how you wish he would stop
and grind out Captain links, or any other
classical music, his machine is capable of
Where is that train? Surely it must lie.
late! Some accident must have happened
to it, and you turn back to ask the the
telegraph operator about it, and sec by
the clock that you have waited only ten
minutes. And it has seemed an hour
Pretty soon some other women come
in, and you hail Them as particular
god-send. You look at there rutfles fringes,
and observe the fit of their pull-backs.
and mentally criticisc their striped stock
ings, and see that some buttons are off
their boots, and wonder if the tall ones
hair is false, and make up your mind
that the short one crimps her front locks
VI pIpC"SlCHl, VI u SIulC pcuCI.
Fat old party OF the male gender strolls
in, and after looking awhile at the time
table, asks the ticket-seller what time the
tweleve o'clock train goes? Lean young
party Of the female gender asks the same
thing. Ditto half a-dozen other people,
some of whom may want to know, and
some who ask just for the notion OF it.
Twenty minutes gone. Ten more to
wait You cannot retain from ask
ing the ticket-seller if he is sure the train
will be in at twelve promptly, and assures
you it willard adds the information
''Trains on THIS road run as advertised"
So you feel sure that, in spite of COL
lisions and smash ups, that train will be
here at the time specified. Its SO lovely
to have confidence in anything.
Then you sit down, and look at the
toes of your boots, and think they would
be improved by little French dressing;
and you feel of your ticket to make sure
it is there, and wonder why they do not
make kid gloves SO they would not rip,
and then you look at the clock, and, oh
dear! dear! five minutes more to wait.
You open your reticule, and eat few
of the peanuts you have bought for the
children, and throw the shells on the floor
with vague sort of satistaction-as if