Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1880-05-12
A Little Traveller.

(whom never shall forget), had Just left
some other friends, and was sorry that my
pleasant visit to them was over. had a
long journey to take before / reached home.
and | was to take it alone. l did not mind
this in one way for have grown used to
travelling by myself, but felt lonely enough
that day after the cars had started. How
ever, was lucky in having most comfort.
able section in a sleeping-car, and was well
provided with books and lunch and pleasant
thoughts. So, after had looked miserably
out Of the window at nothing for half an
hour, began to settle myself comfortably
for the day or two | must spend in the train.
There were several passengers, but no one
whom | had ever seen before, and it was
some time before lost the feeling that wa
with company Of unknown people, and
began to take an interest in my fellow-trav-
elers separately. There was the usual young
couple in very new clothes, who tried to
make us believe they had been married these
ten years; and there were two elderly
women who knew each other and were jour
neying together, loudly talking over parish
and neighborhood matter by the way. Not
far from me was a round, redcheeked old
lady, in a somewhat fantastic dress, with a
big bonnet all covered over with ends of mar.
row ribbons aud lusterless bugles. l am
sure she had made it herself, and was proud
and conscious of it. She had a great deal
of small luggage in the compartment with
her, and | thought she must be changing
her home, for she never could be taking so
many and such curious-looking packages
just for visit. Besides these people, there
were four or FIVE business men and Cath
olic priest, and just opposite my own place
was little girl.
For some time l supposed she belonged
to some one in the car, and had chosen to
sit by herself for awhile and look out of the
window. Then thought her father must
have left her to go to some other part of the
train, where he had found some one to talk
with. But two hours went by, and it was
toward noon, and watched the little thing
grow sleepy, and at last put her head down
on the seat, and the doll she had held so
carefully slid to the floor. | picked it up
and placed it on her arm again, so she
might find it when she walked. | had no
ticed that the conductor had spoken to her,
and thought | would ask him about her
when he next came by.
She did not sleep very long; the stopping
of the train startled her, aud when she
opened her eyes smiled at her and beckoned
her to come. So she climbed the seat be.
side me, still holding the doll, and asked
her what its name was, and if she was alone,
and where she was going. She looked up
gravely into my face, and told me the dolls
name and her own, and then she did not say
any more. She was younger than l had
thought at first, and yet she was grave and
sober and saddened. Isn't your papa
with you ?" said but she only shook her
head and looked up at me again as she sat
beside me- was strangely drawn to the
little thing; she puzzled me, and she was SO
wistful. She seemed contented, and we
both looked out of the window, and talked
now and then about the things we saw. She
sat in my lap so she could see better.
After some time she said to me Smother
is dead" in half-questioning way, as if she
expected me to say something. But what
could say, except that was sorry-though
there was all that wonder in her face at hav.
ing been brought in contact with so great a
mystery. This new, undreamed of, un-
comfortable change, was almost too much
for her mind to recognize at all, but she had
been shocked by it, aud everything was diff
ferent from what it used to be. She knew
that, at any rate.
"Poor little grill" said |.
ohN o"iN oho Woo Soih5 W VIC, VIC
child told me, still watching me with her
sad and curious eyes, as if everybody
knew the secret of it all, and would not
tell her.
"You will know all about it when you
are older, dear, and you will see her again,
by-and.by," / said; but she shook her
head.
:" She isn't coming back any more" she
told me- if she wera aura nf that nj opy
rate.
81 am going to have my lunch now,"
said, "and you will have some, too--won' I
you 2"
She was very hungry, and was more pit
iful than ever for the fact of her friend.
lessness grew more and more plain. She
had very nice ways; she evidently had been
brought up carefully, and there was quaint
dignity and reserve about her; she did
nothing in hurry, as if she had never been
with other children at all, and had learnt no
childish or impatient ways. noticed her
clothes, which were beginning.to look worn
and outgrown, but were very clean and well
kept. 1t was on the edge Of winter, but she
still wore what must have been her last sum-
mer's hat-a little leghorn hat, trimmed
with white ribbon and over her shoulders
she had one of the smallest of plaid shawls
folded cornerwise, and pinned over neatly
She had some mittens, but she had taken
those off, and put them together on the win
dow ledge
Presently the conductor came in, evidently
In hurry; and when he saw that we had
been lunching together he looked as if
weight were taken off his mind.
SIN very much obliged to you," he said
to me; 81 meant 10 take her out and give
her some dinner when we stopped, but got
dispatch that something was wrong up the
line, and had TO fly around as fast as |
could. | only got part Of cup Of coffee
myself"
:" Is she under your care ?" asked.
The conductor moved the little girl to
seat facing mine, and bent over TO tell me
" She's left all alone in the world. Her
father was friend of mine, a freight-con.
ductor on the road, and he was killed pretty
near two years ago. His wife was a nice
little woman, and the company helped her
some, and she sewed and got along very
well for awhile; but she never had any
health, and she died last Sunday of pneu-
monia, very sudden-buried day before yes
terday. The folks in the house sent dis
patch TO sister in Boston they'd heard her
speak of, and she answered right off that
she'd take the child. They can't sell off
what little stuff there is until they hear from
her My wife told me how things were, and
| spoke to the superintendent, and said I'D
take her on free. I'd ataken her home my
self and welcome but as long as she's folks
Of her own, she'd better go to them. don't
believe much in fetching up other peoples
but the last thing | told my wife
as came out of the house, was that If |
didn't like the looks of the woman that
comes for her, would just bring her back
again. She's the best little thing ever
'aw seems as if she knew what had hap
pened, and was trying to make the best Of
IT, found the Pullman wasn't full, and |
thought she could move around in here
more than in any of the other cars. There
'irt much travel at this time of the year"
an take the best care | can of her." said |
{ "pm going to Boston," and the con-
iuotor nodded and touched Nelly's cheek
md disappeared.
She seemed to look upon everybody as her
riend. She walked with unsteady, short
teps, to the other end Of the car, and the
'ride, who was apleasantlooking girl, spoke
har Etu1lx ard c.xa ka. ....... 4