Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1886-02-25
LOST LUGGAGE ROOM ROMANCE.
New York Times.

New York Times.
"Won you step ia and warm your
self bit, sir2 A good fires the best
company you can have SIGH a night as
this" So spoke the jolly faced man
in fraved velveteen, who was sitting
bv a fire in the ''lost luggage room, -
as | approached the door, drawn by
the tempting blaze. / had come up
to London by the night train, and
had arrived at what Dickens poetical
lamp trimmer aptly called "the dead
est buriedest time of the whole night. y
In truth, there are few more ghostly
places upon the face Of the earth than
a great London railway station in the
hours between night and morning.
The faring lights and ceaseless buslle
that marked the the earlier hours of
the night have faded little by little,
and the few lamps that still twinkle
feebly amid the gloom grow fainter
and fainter as they recede into the
cold black distance, vanishing at
length IN utter darkness like the close
Of a wasted life. High overhead the
giant ribs of the Orders loom
gaRntly through the great gulf
of darkness above, recalling
with uncomfortable vividness the
story of the scientific gentleman who
dined with dozen friends inside the
skeleton Of mammoth. Ny steps
echo along the platform with unnatur-
al loudness amid that tomblike sill
silence, which is HEIGHTENED by the
tarpaulin covered trucks and wagons
with unpleasant suggestions of collins
and hearses, while under shed in
the darkness a number of bicycles and
tricycles, dimly seen by the spectral
glimmer of a solitary lantern, look
like the skeletons of cabs devoured
by some hungary monster who makes
this gloomy hollow his den. Add to
all this dismal, persistent rain, tick
ing ceaselessly upon the glass roof
above me like ghostly clock, and
you will easily imagine what q relief
it is to hear the hearty voice Of the
baggage warden and see the CHEEKY
blaze of the.fre to which he invites
me.
As / seat myself opposite to him I
observe that my new acquaintance
holds in his hand a small book, so
tattered, creased and smeared with
grease and lamp oil that it might pass
for some ancient manuscript rescued
from the burning of Pompeii. But
upon what little is left of the cover
espy at the first glance the magic
name OF Charles Dickens" 80 you
are reading Dickens, Ell? Do you
know, l think l could guess which of
his you've got there Shall I try2"
III you like sir Well, Isn't it
'Mugby Junction."
you've hit it, sure enough, y says
my host with q grin, land tiptop
yarn it is as ever was written.
don't believe there's one Of my mates
acre but what knows it quite as well
as do myself. Anyhow they've all
read it, every man jack of 'em, lamp
trlmmers and all. Why, there's a
Teller on duty here nov Oil show him
to yer when he comes by in 'alf an
nour, if you amt in hurry as we
all calls Lamps arter that chap as
BarboX' Brothers chummed with IN
the story, aud he answers TO it now,
bless yer, jist as if it was his christen-
ed name, That's what like about
Dlckens-he tells yer jst what you
see every day with yer own eyes, and
yet ne tells it so as nobody couldn't
except himself"
In that one sentence, as in a nut
she'll, lies the secret of the great mas
ters 0oundless popularity.
'Jlst listen here" continues the
critic II velveteen, turning over the
ragged pages as if seeking some favor
lte passage. !'Hercs a big railway
station at night for yer, as material as
a picter: Mysterious goods trains,
covered with pals ana gliding on like
vast weird funerals, conveying them
selves quietly away from the presence
OF the few lighted lamps, as if their
freight had come to secret and IN
awful end Half-niles of coal pur-
SUNG In a detective manner, follow
"hoR they lead, stopping when they
stop, backing when they back. Red
not embers showing out upon the
ground down this dark avenue and
down the other as if tOrturing fires
were being raked clear. There now,
We seen all that a-goin' on right be-
.0re my eyes any night these ten
Years, but l couldn't ha' put it into
them words to save my life, Then
mere again: 'Iron-barred cages full
Of cattle j1ngling by midway, the
dropping beasts, with horns entaDeled
eyes frozen with terror, and mouths
.os-at least they have long icicles
hanging to their lips. An earthquake
with thunder and lightning going up
express 10 LondoH.' Amt that reg
lIar photograph o one of them fast
IRAN comm past slap bang2 There's
nobody like old Dickens, after all
20 you ever happen to meet him,
Many tire. He was a good deal
IKE a sea captain to look at, square
quit and broad chested, with a long,
GROWN beard and a rather sad face,