Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1881-04-06
MY WEDDING TOUR,

made! '''>''
MY WEDDING TOUR.
I was only seventeen when Charlie
married me, and I wrote myself for the
first time Mrs. Charles Vail, Jr., and
saw the initials of the same emblazoned
on the end OF my new Saratoga trunk,
when we started for our wedding Jour
ney. My wedding journey! I can speak
of it calmly now, but the time was when
it narrowed up my inmost soul. To this
day Charlie becomes wroth when it is
mentioned, and says it is my "blamed
imagination;" but he knows, and I know
we'll that that is only one of those con-
venient little loopholes through which
big masculinity can crawl onemergency;
and the facts remaining unchanged and
indisputable, I shall defy Charlie and
state them to the world.
Imagine then, reader or listener, who
ever you may be, that the last silken
train had swept itself out Of Trinity
chapel, and the last notes of the inevita-
bic Wedding March" shuddered them
selves out of the grooming organ, and
that Charlie and I are married. Also.
that the kissing and crying over is
achieved, and the voices of my husbands
sisters and my maiden aunts, hailing
down blessings on our head, are happily
lost in distance-that the only sound we
hear is the rattle and roar Of an express
train eastward bound, and am looking
out into the golden monday, watching
the fields and roads and villages and
woodlands race past us, and sweep back
into stream kerunning water. There
we sat, two bissful young fools-but it
isn't of our bliss or our foolshness eth
er that l am going to tell you-only of
the singular adventure of our wedding
tour.
Charlie hadn't told me where we were
to 60, and rather liked being left in ig-
norance, knowing no more than that we
were being swept away to some little
paradise of our own-it might be to an
island of the Hesperides or Crusoe's
kingdom, or Eden itself. We stopped
at good many stations by the way that
looked anything but paradaisical; but I
saw everything through glass. rosily.
rs sat there demure and mute by Char
lies side. The shadows were growing
short, and it was just noon when we
stopped at some "ville" or other, whose
long,. low, struggling buildings, crowd
ing close upon the track, and the broad,
dusty village street, branching off at
right angles, are photographed upon my
memory. Not for anything intrinsically
remarkable; there were only a good
many teams and farm-wagons, and open
carriages, and light carryalls standing
about, with the lazy horses rubbing their
noses against old worm-eaten posts, un-
der the row Of dropping green trees, and
plenty Of people on the platform, crowd
ing together for greetings and good
Dyes; 1t was a commonplace everyday
picture enough, and not even a pretty
one, except in fragments. There was a
general exodus from the car, and a rush
dinnerward. as we supposed, toward the
swinging sign of some ''house" or other
down the lazy little country street; and
Charlie, looking at his watch, said it was
twelve o'clock-and didn't I want some
lunch?
OF course didn't, but of course he
said I must have it, and Immediately
started up. He wouldn't be tive min
utes, he said, and I mustn't move till he
came back. I was to guard our two
seats, and let no one come nigh them,
and, above all, was to sit still, and not
be led away by any possible warnings to
change cars. "We're gong through"
Charlie remarked, $50 just keep the
seats, and don't lay any attention." 1
nodded obedience, and Mr.. Vail marched
out Of the car, leaving me to peer after
him IN the crowd and catch the last
glimpse OF his straw hat vanishing down
the street.
l watched the crowd, when Charlie
was out of sight, and mused and won
dered over the faces, and built up all
sorts Of dreamy speculations upon them,
as one does in a crowd when they have
nothing better to think of. Presently
the door banged open, and the voice of
some unseen functionary shouted,
"Change cars for Bos-ton!"
Everybody began to scramble their
bags and bundles and canes together.
and there was rush among the few who
remained my fellow-passengers. I
watched them go without emotion, and
merely settled myself more comfortably
for the solitary journey through which
Charlie had MISUNDERSTANDING lit
tie where its terminus might be, but in
no wise disturbed or anxious thereat. I
stared out at the people for five minutes
longer-at least SO said the fat-faced
clock in the 'ladies' room opposite my
window, though I made it fifty, at least,
by mental calculation--and then the
door, swung open again. This time a
head projected into the car, roared Cali
out! "-evidently at me-and vanished
again. 81 won't get out, I replied, de-
flying the empty air. "Charie told me
to sit still, and I'm going to. Oh, Char
lie! why in the world Don't you come
But no Charlie came to answer me.
and I began to stare out in the crowd
with rather more anxious eyes, and to
grow a little hot and uneasy, and to
think, with certain unpleasant thrills
running down my back, what would be-
come of me if the train should start and
Charlie shouldn't come back at all! At
this awful point in my meditations the
locomotive gave vent to an unearthly
screech, which I took for premonitory
symptom Of departure, and was SO ter
rlled that started up from my seat just
as the little door swung back for the
third time, to admit of a last warming.
like that of Friar Bacon's brazen head.
This time the face reappeared on a big,
shaggy suit of clothes some six feet high,
and was grim, not to say irate, visage.
Change cars; miss!" said the person
gruf11y. II told you SO twice before!"
I'm to sit still" / replied meekly.
elm going through" ] thought this
was the right thing to say, because
Charlie had said it; but it didn't have the
right effect.
"Change cars then-there's the Bos-
ton train over there. This car runs back
to New York" EgEys ss|F
I simply stared at the person, in a
dogged way that he seemed to take i'll.
Sooner he exclaimed, waxing impa-
tent, 90 You can't sit there all day. YOU
know. Where do you want to go%
-5-.r III : = + 5 d. &