[Adapted from a letter written by a correspondent of the Washington "Capital."]
1.On our way from Springfield tBoston,a stout,black- whiskered man sat immediately in front of me,in the drawing-room car,whose maneuvers1 were a source of constant amusement. He would get up every five minutes,hurry away tthe narrow passage leading tthe door of the car,and commence laughing in the most violent manner,continuing that healthful exercise until he observed that some one was watching him,when he would return this seat.
2.As we neared Boston these demonstrations2increased infrequency and violence,but the stranger kept his seat and chuckled thimself. He shifted the position of his twportmanteaus3,or placed them on the seat as if he was getting ready tleave. As we were at least twenty-five miles from Boston,such early preparations seemed extremely ridiculous. He became sexcited at last that he could not keep his secret. Some one must be made a confidant4;and as I happened tbe the nearest thim,he selected me.
3.Turning around suddenly,and rocking himself tand frin his chair,he said,"I have been away from home three years. Have been in Europe. My folks don’t expect me for three months yet,but I got through and started. I telegraphed them at the last station -they‘ve1Maneuvers,movements.2Demonstrations,expression of the feelings by outward signs. 3Portmanteau,a traveling bag,usually made of leather.4Confidant,one twhom secrets are intrusted.got the dispatch1 by this time." As he said this he rubbed his hands,and changed the portmanteau on his left tthe right,and then the one on the right tthe left.
4."Have you a wife?" said I. "Yes,and three children," was the answer. He then got up and folded his overcoat anew,and hung it over the back of the seat. "You are somewhat nervous just now,are you not?" said I.
5."Well,I should think so," he replied. "I have n’t slept soundly for a week. Dyou know," he went on,speaking in a low tone,"I am almost certain this train will run off the track and break my neck before I get tBoston. I have had tomuch good luck lately for one man. It can‘t last. It rains shard,sometimes,that you think it’s never going tstop;then it shines sbright you think it‘s always going tshine;and just as you are settled in either belief,you are knocked over by a change,tshow you that you know nothing about it."
6."Well,according tyour philosophy2," I said,"you will continuethave sunshine because you are expecting a storm." "Perhaps so," he replied;"but it is curious that the only thing which makes me think I shall get through safe is,I fear that I shall not."
7."I am a machinist3," he continued;"I made a discovery;nobodybelieved in it;I spent all my money in trying tbring it out;I mortgaged4 my home-everything went. Everybody laughed at me-everybody but my wife. She said she would work her fingers off before I should give it up. I went tEngland. At first I met with nencouragement whatever,and came very near jumping off London Bridge. I went inta workshop tearn money enough tcome home with: there I met the man I wanted. Tmake a long story short,I’vebrought home ￡50,000 with me,and here I am."
8."Good!" I exclaimed. "Yes," said he,"and the best of it is,she1Dispatch,a message.2Philosophy,reasoning.3Machinist,a constructor of machines and engines. 4Mortgaged,given as security for debt.knows nothing about it. She has been disappointed soften that I concluded I would not write ther about my unexpected good luck. When I got my money,though,I started for home at once."
9."And now,I suppose,you will make her happy?" "Happy!" he replied;"why,you don‘t know anything about it! She’s worked night and day since I have been in England,trying tsupport herself and the children decently. They paid her thirteen cents apiece for making shirts,and that‘s the way she has lived half the time. She’ll come down tthe depot tmeet me in a gingham1 dress and a shawl a hundred years old,and she‘ll think she’s dressed up! Perhaps she won‘t have any fine dresses in a week or so,eh?"
10.The stranger then strode down the passageway again,and getting in a corner where he seemed tsuppose that he was out of sight,went through the strangest pantomime2,-laughing,putting his mouth intthe drollest shapes,and swinging himself back and forth in the limited space.
11.As the train was going intthe depot,I placed myself on the platform of the car in front of the one in which I had been riding,and opposite the stranger,who,with a portmanteau in each hand,was standing on the lowest step,ready tjump tthe ground. I looked from his face tthe faces of the people before us,but saw nsign of recognition. Suddenly he cried,"There they are!"
12.Then he laughed outright,but in a hysterical3 way,as he lookedover the crowd in front of him. I followed his eye and saw,some distance back,as if crowded out by the well-dressed and elbowing throng,a little woman in a faded dress and a well-worn hat,with a face almost painful in its intense but hopeful expression,glancing rapidly from window twindow as the coaches passed by.
13.She had not seen the stranger,but a moment after she caught his eye. In another instant he had jumped tthe platform with his1Gingham,a kind of cotton cloth which is dyed before it is woven. 2 Pantomime,acting without speaking,dumb show.3 Hysterical,convulsive,fitful.twportmanteaus,and,pushing his way through the crowd,he rushed towards the place where she was standing. I think I never saw a face assume smany different expressions in sshort a time as did that of the little woman while her husband was on his way tmeet her.
14.She was not pretty,-on the contrary,she was very plain- looking;but somehow I felt a big lump rise in my throat as I watched her. She was trying tlaugh,but,God bless her,how completely she failed in the attempt! Her mouth got intthe position tlaugh,but it never moved after that,save tdraw down at the corners and quiver,while her eyes blinked sfast that I suspect she only caught occasional glimpses of the broad-shouldered fellow whelbowed his way srapidly toward her.
15.As he drew close,and dropped the portmanteaus,she turned tone side,and covered her face with her hands;and thus she was when the strong man gathered her up in his arms as if she were a child,and held her sobbing this breast.
16.There were enough staring at them,heaven knows;sI turned my eyes away a moment,and then I saw twboys in threadbare roundabouts standing near,wiping their eyes on their sleeves,and bursting inttears anew at every fresh demonstration on the part of their mother. When I looked at the stranger again he had his hat drawn over his eyes;but his wife was looking up at him,and it seemed as if the pent-up tears of those weary months of waiting were streaming through her eyelids.
