LINCOLN.
Well, here I am, and no familiar face to greet me. I asked a lady to watch my baggage for me, while I hastened to the post-office, and when I returned the train was gone and the depot closed. I stood looking through the window at my baggage inside, and turning my mind upside-down, and wrongside out, and when it was sort of crosswise and I didn't know just what to do, I asked of a man strolling around if he had anything to do with the depot. "No. I am a stranger here, and am only waiting to see the ticket agent." After explaining matters to him I asked him to "please speak to the ticket agent about that baggage for me," which he readily promised to do, and I started to walk to my friends, expecting to meet them on the way. After going some distance I thought I had placed a great deal of confidence in a stranger, and had a mind to turn back, but the sun was melting hot, and I kept right on. After I had gone over a mile, I was given a seat in a carriage of one of my friends' neighbors, and was taken to their door, and gave them another surprise, for they thought I had made a mistake in the date, as they were quite sure no train was run on that road on Sunday.
Monday. Mr. Gardner went for my baggage, but returned without it, and with a countenance too sober for joking said: "Well, your baggage is not to be found, and no one seems to know anything about it."
"Oh! Pet," Maggie said, "I am so sorry we did not go to meet you, for this would not have happened. What did you leave?" "Everything I had." "Your silk dress too?" "Yes, but don't mention that; money would replace it, but no amount could give me back my autograph album and button string which is filled and gathered from so many that I will never again see; and all my writings, so much that I could never replace. No, I must not lose it!" And then I stole away and went to Him whom I knew could help me. Some may not, but I have faith that help is given us for the minor as well as the great things of life, and as I prayed this lesson came to me—How alarmed I am over the loss of a little worldly possessions, and a few poems and scraps of writing, when so much of the heavenly possession is lost through carelessness, and each day is a page written in my life's history that will not be read and judged by this world alone, but by the Great Judge of all things. And, too, it is manuscript that cannot be altered or rewritten.
I would not allow myself to think that my baggage was gone for good, nor would I shed one tear until I was sure, and then, if gone, I would just take a good cry over it, and—but won't I hug my dusty satchels if I only get hold of them again, and never, never be so careless again. I supposed the stranger whom I had asked to speak to the ticket agent for me had improved the opportunity I gave him to secure it for his own.
So it was a rather hopeless expression that I wore, as Cousin Maggie took me to the city in the afternoon. The day was away up among the nineties, and we could not go fast. I thought, never horse traveled so slow, and felt as though I could walk, and even push to make time. But I kept quiet and didn't even say "Get up, Nellie!" I suppose a mile a minute would have been slow to me then. When at last I reached the depot my first thought was to go right to Mr. Randall with my trouble, but was told he was about to leave on the train. I peered into the faces of those gathered about the depot, but failing to find him, I turned to look at the sacred spot where I had last seen may baggage, little dreaming that I would find it, but there it all was, even my fan. "Oh dear, I am so glad!" and I fussed away, talking to my satchels, and telling them how glad I was to see them, and was about to give them the promised "great big hug," when I found I was attracting attention, and turning to an elderly lady I asked her to please watch my baggage for a few moments. How soon we forget our good promises to do better.—I hastened to Mr. Randall's office, found him without a thought of going away. I first told him how much I was pleased with the Republican valley, and then about my baggage.
"Why, child! did you go away and leave it here?"
"Yes, I did; and I have left it again in care of a real dressy old lady, and must go and see to it."
When I reached the waiting room the old lady and baggage were both gone. Turning to my cousin, who had just entered, I asked:
"Maggie Gardner, what did you do with that baggage?"