Morning journal and courier., 1882-03-16
On the Way to Florida.
GCorrespondence Atlanta constitution.


 The train on which we are riding toward Florida is filled with consumptives seeking a new lease of life in the tropics. They are in all the cars, and travelling under all cond- tions. In the second rate cars you see here and there an invalid too poor to afford sleeper, crowded and hemmed in, his pale face made still paler, and his weak lungs irri- tated constantly as he breathes the heavy air made foul with smoke and dirt. He is trav- cling alone-tottering about the and waiting on himself-shouldered this way and that-getting little sympathy .or kindness, reeling at last into the worst corner of the car because he is too weak to contend for the best one. In the sleeper you see the rich invalid reclining upon soft pillows, surround ed by friends who minister to every want and ans ~er every wish before it is spoken-wealth l hastening to console where it cannot relieve ! and brighten the approaches to death it cannot avert.
 There are all sorts of parties on the train. Here is 8 worn, weary looking wife, with love I in her patient eyes, ministering to her hus- | band, whose hectic flush tells too plainly that her labors are nearly ended. There fath- | CT, with brood of children, are gathered | about dying mother, whose sweet smile and ! loving words even impending death cannot still or subdue. Wonder are a father and mother watching son, and reading in each l others anxious looks the truth that either is l afraid to speak. An interesting pair is a | fatAer, on whose life this dread disease has fastened itself, travelling alone with his boy ! "a chubby youngster of 10 years, surrendered possibly by mother to watch over life ! that is precious to her but that she cannot | follow. Right across the car from me is one of the most touching figures in the car. A ! young woman of perhaps 30 years-with plain; resolute face-alone. She wears that | indescribable air of reserve and sadness that fI,oi7~ apart. She is dressed plainly, and her well worn habit tells of privation and struggle. She is probably teacher, who, walking to l and from her work in some bleak New Eng land village, thinly clad and lilly protected the winds and storms of winter whipped into her slender form the seeds of disease. She had remained at her post too long-so long that death has already set it's seal her cheeks, and looks gaunt and memorable out of her great clear eyes. It probably poverty that kept her there-probably the demands of mother or sister on her small resources pinched them so that they pinned her to her martyrdom. And now, at last, on ! the savings of many years, the price of her life she comes to find balm and healing in the South. There is despair in her face, but there is no trouble there. Her great eyes are cloudless. Her thin lips peacefully clos l ed, her brow is calm, and there is gentle res- l ignation in every feature. Perhaps she looks ] with little regret to the end of life that has l been hard and laborious and lonely and feels that God will give her at last the rest and peace so long denied her. Just beyond her there is strong man, chafng uneasily in the ! thrall of disease. His face is knotted with suffering and dread His wealth, his strength, his resources-none of these give him the peace and content that has come to this frail and slender girl. Truly, there is no power ! like the consciousness of life we'll spent, a
 
 the way death is but a falling asleep-a sweet, dreamless rest after long and wearying 1 work