to Pittsburg, we bargained with the head-waiter at the latter place,
to fit us out with a lunch-basket, thus rendering us independent of
the way-stations, where half the time is spent in fumbling out your
money, and the rest in making change, the whistle sounding just as you
get possession of your knife and fork. As hot tea and coffee are now
sold _on the platform_, quite independent of the general scrambling
feeding-room, if your luncheon-basket is furnished with a cup or mug
to put it in, you may of course snap your fingers at fate. Railroad
people and way station providers have jointly themselves to thank for
being outwitted by the well-provided "luncheon-basket;" the
convenience of which, especially where there are children in the
party, and about one waiter in the feeding hall to two dozen people,
and ten minutes to fight for food is plainly manifest; not to speak of
the economy as it regards temper and digestion. Let me do justice,
however, to _one_ obscure way-station, where a friend and myself were
the fortunate discoverers of a squirrel-pie, with which, alas! we had
all too brief an acquaintance. A certain "Oliver Twist" near us,
scenting the secret, called for "more;" whereupon the buxom young
woman in attendance replied, "that she was sorry, but the _squirl_-pie
was all _out_." It struck me that the word _in_ would have been more
significant, but I didn't mention it.
* * * * *
I don't think my worst enemy can say that I am often betrayed in
showing politeness to females. I trust I know my own sex too well, so
miserably to waste my time. Once, on my journey, I waived this well
known article in my creed, in favor of an unprotected one who was
seated next me at table. Every woman but herself, had one of the male
species to stand between her and the--"how not to do it"--landlord and
his satellites;--to have been more truthful I should have put this
last word in the singular number. There was nothing preposessing about
the woman; she was wiry and angular, and had a horrible trick of
snuffing; perhaps it was all these that made me insane enough to pity
her, as she sat there gazing into her empty plate, with a sort of dumb
despair. What goodness may be enshrined in that repulsive face and
form, I said to myself; how tenderly she may, in happier days, when
younger and more attractive, have been watched and cared for; and how
wretched to have only the _memory_ of such things in this solitary
place; so I just snatched some eggs that after unheard efforts to
obtain, Mr. Fern had fondly hoped to regale himself upon, and offered
them to her. Did that female thank me by a word, or even a glance? Ye
gods? Didn't she take those eggs as if she had laid them herself?
"Good enough for you Fanny," muttered I; "one would think you were old
enough by this time, to know better." I didn't say any wicked words;
it is not my way. Shortly after, the damsel who waited on us, and who
employed the intervals when dishes were preparing in running up stairs
to attend to her toilet:--First course being, no hoop, and
bread-and-butter. Second course, crinoline and poached eggs. Third
course, ear-rings and mutton-chop. Fourth course, ringlets and
apple-pie;--this girl, I say, sat before me, at my own private,
personal request, a plate of tea-biscuit. The unprotected female
looked at them--so did I. Presently she poked me in the ribs and
imperatively requested "_them_ biscuit." Shade of Lindley Murray! you
should have seen how civilly I informed her that they were destined
for my luncheon-basket, but that doubtless the damsel in waiting would
attend to any of _her_ orders for food, as she had to mine. You should
have seen the "unprotected female" at that moment. She was a panting,
panther-like, gasping monument of philanthropy ill-directed.--Peace to
her irate bones.
The butter, cheese, and other dairy (I wonder if the type-setters will
print this _daily_) delicacies of Philadelphia, are no longer a matter
of marvel to me, after travelling through Pennsylvania, and viewing
its admirable farms, unencumbered by a weed or stone or thistle, and
as far as foliage and fruit gave evidence, by any noxious vegetable
insect; and enclosed by fences in perfect order and repair. Not an
unsightly object about barn, house or garden; the very genius of
thrift and neatness seemed pervading and presiding over all. It was
indeed a delight to see them, although I was not unaware of the years
of patient, careful tillage which had brought them to such a point of
perfection. True--there might have been more flowers and vines, about
their very neat dwellings, without endangering the Quaker's title to a
seat among the blessed in a future state; for I never _will_ believe
that if He who made this bright world, approved of universal drab, he
would have tinted the rose such a beautiful pink, or the morning-glory
such a heavenly blue, or the grass such a cool, eye-satisfying-green;
but for all that, were I queen of the country, the Quakers should
believe and wear what they pleased, as I would myself.
We entered Philadelphia just at sunset, and rattled through Chestnut
Street just as it was looking its brightest and best with its
well-stocked shops, its belles and its beaux, and its bran-new
Continental, where we longed to stop, had we not given our word to
reach New York that night. I liked Philadelphia from the first moment
I put my foot there, some years ago.
It always seemed so cosy, home-like,--and comfortable; one might, one
thinks, be so domestic and sensible there, while in New York it is
next to impossible to be sensible, with the very best intentions. So
I left Philadelphia with real regret, thinking of friends to whom I
would gladly have said, even a brief "how d'ye do." May I be allowed
to ask who invented the torturing style of cars from Philadelphia to
New York, with wooden panels where windows should be, and seats
divided off into spaces, narrow as a bigot's creed? It may be all very
well for spinsters and bachelors, but as I don't belong to either
class, and as I like a shoulder to sleep on when I have travelled
since the previous midnight, it was just simply infamous to shut me
off, and bar me up from it by that ridiculous partition; in vain I
bobbed my bonnet, and got a crick in my neck, trying to reach the
shoulder to which I was legally entitled without a permit from any
railroad company. In vain I doubled my travelling shawl and piled it
on that shoulder, and tried to annex my head to it that way; in vain I
rose in my might and looked viciously at the wooden pane which should
have been a window, and whimpered out, "Oh I'm _so_ tired!" in vain
Mr. Fern and I corkscrewed ourselves into all sorts of shapes, and
asked each other, with a grim attempt at jest, "if they called that an
accommodation train." Thank heaven, said I, if we _do_ live to reach
New York, a hot supper and a warm welcome awaits us! And now, seated
at ease in mine inn, I wish to wind up these articles with a whisper
to landlords generally:
First:--Don't _always_ fasten the looking-glass in a lady's bed-room
in the very _darkest_ corner, or attach it to some lumbering piece of
furniture incapable of being moved, save by an earthquake.
Secondly:--Give ladies four bed-pillows instead of two, until geese
yield more feathers.
Thirdly:--Banish forever, with other tortures of the Inquisition, that
infernal "gong," (excuse the expression,) which has had so much to do
in filling our Lunatic Asylums.
THE END.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
A few obvious misprints have been corrected, but in general the
original spelling has been retained (for example, "of tourse,"
"beneneath," etc.). Inconsistent use of hyphens was also left
unchanged.
Contents page: "MOURNING" p. 240; This was treated as a chapter in the
text, but was missing from the Contents Page. It has been added. Other
slight variations between the Contents list and Chapter headings were
left as in the original.
P. 284, paragraph immediately before "Last week a philanthropist"
ended with in-line asterisks and an extra blank line--the only case in
this text, and not an apparent thought-break. I have included those
asterisks and blank line as in the original for the reader's
interpretation.