Arizona weekly enterprise., 1882-08-05
My WEDDING TOUR.

was only 1i when CQarll0 married me, and wrote myself for the first time Mrs. Charles Vail, Jr., and saw the ini- tials of the same blazoned on the end of my new Saratoga trunk, when we start ed on our wedding journey. My we'd ding journey I can speak of 1t calmly now, but the time was when 1t narrowed up my inmost soul. To this day, Char lie becomes wroth when it is mentioned, and says it is my confounded imagi- nation;" but he knows, and I know we'll, that that is only one of those conven- tent little loopholes through which big masculinity can crawl on emergency and, the facts remaining unchanged and indisputable, shall defy Charlie and state them to the world.
 Imagine, then, reader or listener, whoever you may be, that the last silken train has swept itself out of Trinity Chapel, and the last note of the inevitable Wedding March" shud- dered itself out of the big grooming or gan, and that Charlie and I are mar ried. 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 heads, are happily lost in distance-that the only sound we hear Is the rattle and roar of an express train laundering east ward, and I am looking out into the golden monday, watching the fields and roads and villages and woodlands race past us, and sweep back into stream like running water. There we sat, two blissful young fools-but it isn't of our bliss, or our foolishness either, that I am going to tell you only of the single adventure of our we'd ding tour.
 Charlie hadn't told me where we were to go, and rather liked being left in ignorance, knowing no more than that we were being swept away to some little Paradise of our own-it might be 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 i; but l saw everything through glass, rosily, as sat there demure and mute, | by Charlie's side. The shadows were | growing short, and it was just noon, when we stopped at some vile or other, whose long. low, struggling buildings, crowding close upon the track, and the broad, dusty village street, branching off at right angles, are photographed upon my memory. Not for anything intrinsically remark able; there were only Q good many
 teams and farm-wagons, and open car riages, and light carryalls standing about, with the lazy horses rubbing their noses against old orIn-eaten posts,
 under the row of dropping green trees,
 and plenty of people on the platform,
 crowding together for greetings and
 good-bys it was commonplace, evety-
 day picture enough, and not even s
 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 ali
 his watch. said 1t was 12 o'clock-and
 didn't 1 want some lunch?
 Of course 1 didn't, but of course he
 said must have it, and immediately
 started up. He wouldn't be i've minutes
 he said, and 1 mustn't move ill he came
 back l was to guard our two seats
 and let no one come nigh them, and
 above all, was to sit still, and not b.
 led astray by any possible warnings t,
 change cars. Were going through,
 Charlie remarked, "so just keep tn,
 seats, and don't pay any attention"
 nodded obedience, and Mir. Vail marched out of the car, leaving nc to peer affsseI
 him in the crowd and catch the lss
 glimpse of his straw hat vanishing dow
 il c she t.
 watched the crowd, when Charli was out of sight, and unused and won
 hn !
 sorts of dreamy speculaGions upon them
 as one does in crowd when they hay
 nothing better to think of. Present. , the door banged open, and the volce C
 some unseen functionary shoutet "Change cars for Boston |"
 Everybody began to scramble the;
 bags and bundles and canea toce4hol
 and there was rush among the few wh
 remained my fellow passengers.
 watched them go without emotion, an . merely settled myself more comfortabl i. for the solitary journey through whic d Charlie had indicated wondering lii : tie where its terminus might be, but i 0 no wise disturbed or anxious thereat. | stared out at the people for five minute $ longer-at least 50 said the fat-face i. clock in the ladies room" opposite m Il window, though made it fifty at lea. ' by mental calculation-and then th | door swung open again. This time | head projected itself into the car, roare !, "All out !'-evIdently at me-and val s ished again. :" I won't get out" I It > piled, defying the empty air. "Charl ,s told me to sit still, and I'm going t B. Oh, Charlie why in the world don g you come back?"
 'o But no Charlie came to answer m ,. and I began to stare out in the crow s. with rather more anxious eyes, and l- grow a little hot and uneasy, and T. think, with certain unpleasant thril E, running down my back, what would b ,n come of me if the train should start, al if Charlie shouldn't come back at all
 this awful point in my meditations, u ,. locomotive gave vent to an unearth y screech, which 1 took for a premonito1 '. symptom of departure, and was so te to ritied that I started up from my seq IT. just as the little door swung back
 the th,rd time, to admit of last war
 ing, like that of Friar Bacon's braz he head This time the face reappeared - big shaggy suit of clothes some S " feet high, and was a grim, not to st Il irate, visage.
 - "Change cars, miss " said the pc D son grllfay; 1T told you so twice | E fore !"
 k "Tm to sit still" replied meekl A "Pm going through" I thought u y was the right thing to say, becau A Charlie had said it but it didn't ha the right effect.
 A "Change cars then-there's the Be M ton train over there. This runs back " New York.