The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1888-09-09
SIGHTS BIZ THE WAY.



more astonishing on their trips abroad than the
apathy exhibited by the attaches of railway
trains To the home lady" alert in every fibre,
with every sense wide awake that least triie be
lost. the unchaneiog countenance Of condu ctor,
brakeman and porter is an unsolvable enigma.
They guess at the mystery, and the pathetic
poem of Mrs. Hemans is suggested. The wan
derer pro tenn. concludes that some great grief
has wrung the last atom Of eeniality from the
heart OF cash one of these solemn men, and they
brave the dangers OF railroad life in utter indf-
ference, since the blight fell upon them and Fate
decreed they should never smile again
But il the inexperienced one finds
himself compelled by business or
duty to go over the same few miles, say hun
dred, once or twice each year for Ave, or ten, or
twenty years, he begins to have q faint idea OF
the unutterabe WEAKNESS it must be TO 60 up
and down the same line once day or on alter
nate days for that number of years. The idea
can be but faint, since the traveller may read,
look from the window or smoke (if the traveller
happens to belong to the tobacco loving sex)
whereas, the man who works his passage must
attend to his duties at regular times and places.
There is no respite from the routine. and 70 save
the automatic body. the servant OF habit, to en-
dure the treadmill as it can. The passenger, as
well as the train man, first trip
may gaze upon the most commonplace
scenery with some degree of interest,
or with the hope of change, or faint curiosity
to the purpose of it's creation. But the vet
eran traiuman saw, only the day before yester-
day, that came farmhouse, with the group of
tow-headed children in the door, their light
brown mother behind them, and their DARK
brown father whiting the gate post. He will
see them again the day after tomorrow. The
annual passenger has not seen them since last
year. The children have grown taller, the
father has shaved off bis whiskers and the
mother has lost front tooth. She leans for
ward TO watch the train, and she has q curious,
swsying motion-oh, she's rocking the cradle
with her foot. But the trsinmau saw her do
that last year for that embryo granger
who clings to her skirts, and the year
before the small Cincinnatus standing half
way between the house aud the gate was
rocked. Its the Same old story-nature's serial
profusely illustrated. The cradle is always
rocking. On yearly trip one may gaze upon
the new house or barn. free from the memory of
its spasmodic efforts at getting itself together.
There it stands, the materialized though: Of its
owner. The trsinman has felt that house in
the air ever since the first shovel full of earth
was lifted for the cellar. He has watched it
hopefully when the work was put forward with
full force of men, aud he would say: "Now,
this looks like business. The house will be fin
ished before snow flies" Then for days to-
eether there would be but a solitary car
pepter or mason pottering round,
and the despairing railroader would soliloquize:
THAT house will rot as it stands. What q
good thing it would be if spark from the
CINE should set it one fire! OF course it's in
sured.' On rainy days, too, the sight was dis
couraging. Then the half-made thing looked
more like dismantled ruin than what it was
growing to be, the pride of the neighborhood,
where, at its warming, the local elocutionist de-
claimed
Out OF the old house Nancy
Moved up into the
Passing through town once a year one no.
tices the fresh paint on the new roof that braces
up and makes respectable the middle-aged
houses. Some buildings are gradually lost sight
of among growing trees. Sometimes one is
freshed with the sight of a new name over
an office door a. the very minute when
she question arose: els that longnosed pair,
John Smith and father, still there?' Then came
the wonder whether they were dead gone
West. The train man knows. He saw either
the Grape streamer or the packingcase s. Year
grave-yards. Sometimes there are so many more
after year the pilgrim sees changes in the country
little head stones than there were year ago, as
If the children had played there last winter.
building snow men, and all had melted but the
snow-mans boots. Then tall monument
springs into view, and the pilgrim knows that
the great man of the neighborhood. or Susan
Ann, the beloved wife" of the great man, is
dead, and consigned ito the omen hand of Time"
Sometimes one gets interesting particulars OF
the occurrence that cast gloom from surviving
friends who travel that way for few miles.
The sight of the monument brings il all back TO
them. III the survivors are men, and tie de-
ceased was tee great man. the conversation was
of the number Of acres TO which he read his title
clear, the focks and herds that were his, the
amount he had invested IN stocks and bonds.
and how the heirs are to scalpine each
other in their efforts at an unsqual division. IL
the survivors are women, and the dead was the
great mans wife. then the talk runs mem
&c liz H. H. Il -
dren there are. living and dead. aud final de-
cision to whether tho handsome ones favored
his her folks. There are mods,
aud sneers too, that interpreted, mean,
''the widower is beginning take
notice They review ell the signs there were
for weeks beforehand that there was to be
death in the house. One survivor remarks
cheerfully II knowed, the very first time
seen her after she was took that she'd never
get mp agin There she was, all scrooched down
in the bed the bolster foot away from the
head-board, and she a-layin' there all crooked
an discouragsd-like Soons / got home told
him how 'twould be. =
Aud true enough, there is the monument
proving that to scroech" is certain death.
One sees cultivated fields this year, where
last year was swamp full OF coarse grass,
weeds and ''huckleberry" bushes. Then is ex-
planned the long black trench, the pyramids of
tiling, and the men stalking about in rubber
boots OF year ago.
But the train man saw the ditch staked off,
and the tile unloaded from ths wagons. and after
all these hopeful signs OF redemption, some
times for days together the whole swamp was
deserted because of high water. The train
man watched this work from it's beginning. He
even guessed what the farmer was thinking Of
when he saw him one day during the drought
walking through the dry grass. The train
thought it was good idea, but sometimes he
grew so discouraged at tie way the work
dragged along he could almost have deserted
the road forever fer tho sake of hurrying IL
through the draining of this swamp.
But whatever may have been his thoughts
he never forgot TO punch ticket, or turn
brake or charge fifty cents all round" and he
mover smiled. MARGARET HOLMES.