W. A. G.'s Tale

by Margaret Turnbull

We just had time for our train, so we had to hurry right through the waiting-room, and I couldn't stop and see all the things there are to see, or watch the people coming down the stairs. People's legs are funny if you watch them coming down—like things made with hinges.

Then we got into a nice big train with chairs in it that swung round. They call it a "Pullman" which is a good name for a car, only it's the engine that pulls the man and the car, too, really. Then we got all comfortable, with another nice colored man who showed his teeth at us, and put our bags up on a rack, and Aunty May gave me some sweet chocolate and a magazine with pictures in it, and Aunty Edith said. "I wish we didn't have to change at Trenton,"—and—then—I fell asleep.

The next thing I knew Aunty May was saying to me, "Wake up, Billy, dear, it's Trenton now." She put on my jacket and the man took our bags again and we stepped out on a big platform, and then another man took all our bags and we went up one stair, and down another, and waited on a long platform, where trains kept shooting up every minute.

I couldn't understand what the man in uniform said, until at last a funny little train—all short, only half as long as our New York one, and with funny, hard straight seats—came, and we climbed in. Aunty Edith and Aunty May and me had to carry our own bags and fix 'em. The train waited a long time, but at last it moved, and Aunty May put her arm round me and sat me next the window, only it wasn't open, because it was only April and wasn't warm enough yet, and said, "Now we're off to East Penniwell."

The train just crawled along, and there was a big canal on the one side. I saw a canal boat with two men and a dog on it, and they were cooking something in a big pot on the top of a stove that stood right out of doors, on top of the boat, with a stovepipe that didn't go into any chimney, but right up into the air—with smoke coming out of it!

I showed it to Aunty May and she said, "You will see them every day when we get to the towpath," and I felt awful glad at that, because though the boat moved slow, the train moved fast, and I didn't get a good look at the boy who was driving the mules. I couldn't be sure whether he'd made a face at me or not, but I think he did.

Then by and by on the other side of the train came a great big river, all fast and running along and some bubbling-up places in it where rocks stood up. Aunty May said those were rapids and this was the Delaware River, the one Washington crossed.

I think more of him than ever, now I've seen the river, for it's good and wide and it must have been a cold job getting over it. I told Aunty May I hoped it wasn't at the rapids he tried to cross, and she said, "Oh, no," and "I'll show you," and presently the train stopped and the conductor said, "Washington's Crossing," There was a big tree, where he could have tied a boat if he'd wanted to. Aunty May said maybe he did; and a white house where I guess the soldiers got something to eat and drink. Anyway, I hoped so. Aunty May said she'd never asked, so she couldn't say, positively, as it was so long ago, but it wouldn't hurt to think they did. So I imagined it that way.

Then our train stopped at a station and we got out. I hadn't been ready for its stopping, and I got so busy getting my things on, and getting my bag in my hand, that I didn't hear the name of it, and I asked Aunty May if it was East Penniwell, and she said, "Oh, no, this is Scrubbsville, New Jersey, and East Penniwell is in Pennsylvania."

"Will we get into another train, then?" I asked, and Aunty May laughed and said, "Oh, no, just wait and see." Then we got off and walked down, carrying our bags, to a big bridge right over the Delaware.