The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1905-06-18

The poetry OF travelling Is gone-the romance OF
roadside adventure Is at an end: In vain VIII the
modern novels. attempt 10 distinguish his heroine
In the passing train-forms and faces glide by like
tho mingled coors on a schoolboy's whipping top
an amagamated mass OF hues which the rapid
motion seems TO blend into one Elopements may
now be made In safety, II the lovers can only Sc
cure the FIRST train: asthmaical old guardians can
never give chase-the rapidity with which the We
hicles move will prevent the short winded from
breathing. no being overtaken by brothers; duelng
and changing horses and separate rooms are at
an end-our light literature must now become
woven with steam-our Incidents must arise from
blowups, and love be made over broken legs:
while here the novelist Will have TO record the fall
ing In OF tunnel. the only chance left "for touch
q, the sublime
The good old days OF chance oouItship have
vanished; II a lady happened to let her glove fall
from the coach. there was an opening for some
gallant 10 leap Oh and return II with good grace
But now there Is no stopping: one might as well
call upon the winds as upon the conductor TO check
the speed OF his merry dragon: It's as much the
euard can do TO make him hear with his shrn
whistle: ere one can say, My hats blown on" we
have shot mile ahead, and the conductor mourns
the accident at the next station: and there Is no
lack Of sympathy at the distance OF thirty miles
Tho tables within the carriages like those which
held the feasts OF the enchanters; whatever Is laid
upon them less weighty than a brick Is whsked
away by q vtewleSs spirit and carried you wot not
whittier Wo be unto the wight that layeth down
his gloves, handkerchief umhrella-that I'm
looseneth his pocketbook to spread his letters,
for they will be given a prey unto the winds,
unless he carrtcth his own curtaining, or Is rich
enough TO travel In q first class carriage. Then
there are those many gloomy tunnels opening their
grim portals to receive us, and darkenInp
around us like the valley and shadow of death.
You are immersed within the bowels OF black
caven-the groaning monster which has borne
you away utters his most hellish means In the
darkness-Hakes OF FIRE here and there nutter along
the low browed vaut-the earth seems rocking
beneath. while one dull, prolonged echo throws
back the continued clatter. Perchance a solitary
lamp Is hxed In the roof OF your carriage, and the
scky yellow light falls upon the face of some
wrlnked old man who has closed his eyes from fear.
All beside Is dark-nothing is visible but that hid.
eous face In the distance. At FIRST he appears like
a hend, you cannot separate him from the lakes
OF red fire. the darkness, and the believing of the
monster. BY degrees he becomes a bandit; you
have seen just such a face In the caverns In Sal
vator Rosa's pictures: then he Is dead-his face
grows sharp and thin In the yellow lght-his eyes
move not under the lurid gleam-you are In the
tomb with himl BY and by you feel the wind of
heaven upon your cheek-the daylight breaks In
upon you. and you arc again rolling between up
heaved banks. or on the brown backs OF massy
arches-rubbing the flakes OF SCOT from your face,
or wrhing under some sharp particle which has
chosen your eye for an abiding place: you seem as
II racing against the wind. and that, out OF sheer
vexation at being beaten, 1t blows with all Its might.
as II would lift the heavy train from tho ground