The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1880-02-14
BY ARCHIBALD OLDHAM.


and imperfect, know; but trust it is in
the main correct and lifelike. If he who
deigns to look at it can perceive what may
be called the soal of the picture and can
find in the coarse and unfinished daub
startling likeness to somebody he has seen,
the bungling artist will have gained his
point, and will rest content Herewith. 1t
is all he could reasonably expect.
A little brown depot standing by the side
of long reach of sno w-covered track. Out
of doors, fierce northeast snow storm
driving furiously over rugged hills and pill
ing roads full of sitting white snow. In
doors, huge box-stove of the kind common
to country depots and rural school-houses,
roaring Justify with the heavy draft and red
with intense heat. In diminutive Office
partitioned from the only waiting-room, the
station-master and ticket-agent, condensed,
for economy's sake, into single gray
haired man, writing slowly and painfully
with scratchy pen; at his elbow a tele-
graphic instrument, ticking monotonous
messages up and down the line. This is
the frame in which the artist presents his
picture.
A young man. with the air and dress of
farmer, with nothing remarkable about him
except a pair of sharp, black eyes, which
move .restlessly from one object to another,
while their owner nervously strokes his
chin with hand Drowned by exposure to
sun and sind and calloused by hard labor;
pair of heavy boots standing upon the floor
at his side. Such was John Hornblower
when / saw him first.
The inanimate picture becomes in a
twinkling a tableau ricdnt. Enter the
writer, stamping his feet and shaking the
snow from his hat and overcoat. To him,
endeavoring to warm his benumbed fingers
at the stove, Hornblower Immediately adj
dresses himself:
cts rough day, SIR"
The response was more to be commended
for its brevity than for its courtesy:
"Very.'
For full ten minutes Mr.. Hornblower as
siduously dried his feet in silence, then,
with great difficulty, pulled on his boots
and walked heavily across the floor to
window, from which he looked long and
anxiously up and down the line. Turning
to me he remarked:
81 am afraid the train will be late, "a
remark which certainly could not be sue
cessfully disputed had been SO disposed,
for it was even then considerably past the
schedule time for the arrival of the train.
This observation, am sorry to say, met
with no more gracious response than the
previous one.
II presume 500
was not in laxative mood that morn
ing; man who has just been chilled to his
marro~ by long ride in the very teeth of a
cold snow storm, seldom feels much like
talking. Besides, abhor bore; and I
feared very much that Mr.. Hornblower was
a member of that troublesome family. 1t
was not strange, then, that should endeav-
or to check any disposition on his part to
open a conversation with me; but all my
hints fell upon ground as unproductive as
the big snow bank by the depot door. 1t
became painfully evident that he meant to
converse with me whether wanted to Or
not: SO, with a wry face, as if / had swal-
lowed something disagrreable, yielded to
the inevitable. 1t came like the storm out
side, with gust and whirlwind.
"Don't you think that railroads are be-
coming very arbitrary and oppressive?' he
commenced. 81 used to be simple enough
to think that they were intended for the
benefit of the people; but have learned bet
ter now. see by your looks that you think
that country people are all fools. That's
where you make great mistake. We read
a good deal and we think more about what
we read. Look at me, for example. am
rough; confess it. It is just what you
would naturally expect, for was raised in
rough country. But it does not follow, by
any means, that am ignorant, too. have
studied the subject of railroads good deal,
first and last. Would you like to know my
deliberate opinion of them-the opinion of
an honest man? They are all swindles. In
st ad Of proving the servants of the people
they are fast becoming their masters. They
always Cypress and grind the poor man.
Why, sir, jus look moment at how they
heap up iniquity. They commence by abus-
ing the laborer who lays their rails. He is
overworked; he is the slave of the overseer,
and then they cheat him out of half his
wages after all. They ask us to buy their
worthless stock. We purchase their bonds;
they default and ruin us. When we travel,
they overcharge us. When we send freight,
they delay it until it spoils. They keep US
waiting for hours in barn like this simply
because it happens to suit their convenience.
The whole system, tell you, is complete
saoindle."
The voice of the speaker had been gradu-
ally rising, as he warmed with his subject,
until it eliminated in his shouting the last
word with such energy that the old station
master looked up from his writing with
startled look, and with his pen poised in his
hand he listened attentively to the remain
der of the harangue. While the speaker re-
covered his breath, ventured to remark:
but, my dear sir, what remedy do we
have? In what way
Before could complete my sentence, he
was off again.
Remedy! There's remedy enough.
There's going to be revolution soon, mark
that! The people will rise in their might
and will take matters into tLeir own hands.
The whole corrupt system will be swept
away" and his long, bony arms sweep Wild
ly around his head. "The whole thing is
doomed to destruction, and the poor man
will be protected in his rights"
The volubility with which the whole har-
angue was delivered was simply inconceiva-
BILE. have recorded but small portion of
the torrent that poured from the speakers
mouth. There was kind of rude eloquence
in his talk, and like Coleridge's Ancient
Mariner, he held me spell bound ''by his
glttering eye." But the TRADE soon became
painfully oppressive and felt that it must
be checked. With this object in view, at
tempted diversion.
"Are you intending to travel far?' I
threw out as a bait. The ruse succeeded