Evening star., 1925-11-30

but only a full, free radiance over
that whole huge room.
X X X y
We leave the well lit place, with its
benches of walters, some chatting,
others nervously watching for the no
tees flashed now and then on the
screen above the set of doors. and go
back into the concourse, where a few
-, are waiting for the trains from New
York, Philadelphia and Baltimore TO
:ome rolling in along the tracks, each
with its red light.
Arrival of a great train at any hour
of the day Is thrilling sight to any
one who has not lost his sense of pro
portion in d world where il is very
easy to lose it, certainly. But at
night the triCk--and 1t Is that--takes
on something new, something of that
general sense of unusualneSS which
wraps everything at night.
We strain our eyes to the entrance,
way out there where passing engines
now and then send binding glares
across hundreds of tracks. The white
clouds of steam float silver through
the light, then disappear. as If some
gigantic stage hand had suddenly
dropped an invisible curtain some
where out there.
We seem to see something then
train, It Is the engine Tremors of
anticipation pass down our spine.
Since childhood we have never been
able to watch great railroad train
without them. They form part of the
romance of railroading.
The darkness is blotted by soma
thing blacker than night itself. We
seem to SEQ darkness being com
pressed before us. layers of night be
ing added to night. Then we realize
that the long train is already half
way down the track to It's bumper.
a X
AS lightly as a feather, the tremen :
dous thing slides down the track,
the gates. one with cap awry, an
other with high flung hands. another
all feet, hot-footinG It all to the
stopping coaches.
Slower and slower comes the en-
gine, putting to a stop at the exact
last inch 1t could cease its forward
motion. The action is uncanny, part
Of this mysterious night, when any
thing at all may happen-and usually
does.
HOmecomers waste no time in get
ting through the wide flung gates at
Union Station at any time of day. and
a 4.
watch the passengers come down be-
meath the umbrella shades, they seem
to be walking races with each other
one man, two men. then three men
and two women. come first into sight
They are far ahead OF all the rest.
They enter the gates, are greeted by
clamorous friends, are Whisked away
before we know it
They come by tens, now, old men,
young men, old women. Young women
the middle aged. the we'll dressed, the
poorly clothed. the man of refinement
and the man Of no culture. all hitting
it up. pouring into the gate, sprea ding
out on the other side. appearing a
great mob under the sheds. so mar
row, becoming less and less, almost
nothing. as they get under the huge
Iconcourse. one of the largest rooms in
the world
Now the stragglers enter, and are
lost In their turn. Bringing up the
rear come the weary conductors,
trainmen, ruddy, white e-moustaches.
glad to be at home too, one more run
done, nothing TO do until tomorrow,
Such Is Union Station at night,
which, If you have not visited re-
Gently. do so. not so much to go on a
Journey, as to see a picture, a mo-
ton picture Of life in action. the
everlasting photograph of mankind
IN his eternal journey, an arriving
ana a gong away again.