From here to Richmond there occurred the usual detentions and trials of railroad travel under the existing circumstances. The windows of the cars were broken out in many places. Sometimes no fire for want of stoves, and the nights damp and chilly. All in utter darkness, for the lamps were gone, and could they have been replaced, there would have been no oil.
A Woman has an Opinion.
We crawled along, stopping every hour almost, to tinker up some part of the car or the road, getting out at times when the conductor announced that the travelers must walk “a spell or two,” meaning from one to five miles. Crowds of women were getting in and out all the way, the male passengers grumbling aloud that “women had better stay at home, they had no business to be running around in such times.” This was said so often that it became very unpleasant, till the tables were turned early one morning at Gainsborough, when a large-sized female made her way along the center of the car, looking from right to left in the vain search for a seat. None being vacant, she stopped short, and addressed the astonished male passengers with more vigor than elegance: “What for pity sake do you men mean by running all around the country for, instead of staying in the field, as you ought to do? You keep filling up the cars so that a woman can’t attend to her business. Your place should be opposite the enemy.” This diversion on our behalf was received silently, but many seats were soon vacated by their occupants on the plea of “taking a little smoke.”
Beaten at Last.
At last, the 1st of November found me weary, hungry, cold and exhausted by travel at the Richmond depot, four hours after schedule time; with that most terrible scourge, a bad, nervous headache racking me all over. The crowd around was immense, so that by the time it opened and dispersed sufficiently to let me make my way through, every vehicle had left, if there had ever been any there before. As usual, my telegram had not been received, so there was no one to meet me, and pain rendering me indifferent to appearances I quietly spread my shawl upon a bench and myself upon it. For how long I cannot say, but I was roused by a voice asking what I wanted, and what was the matter? “Any kind of a vehicle to take me home,” was the answer. After a few moments’ delay my new friend returned with the information that there was only a market cart, which if I was willing to ride in, was for hire. If it had been a hearse it would have been hailed with welcome. My two trunks were put on, and I was deposited on them. The hour, eleven at night.
One of our Future Presidents.
I looked first at the horse. He had a shadowy gray skin stretched over his prominent bones, and in the dim, misty light, seemed a mere phantom. The driver next came under observation. A little dried-up, gray black, old darkey, with a brown rag tied around his head, but like all his species he was kindly disposed and respectful. Directions were given him to drive to a friend’s house. He said that his horse was too tired, but if I were willing, he had another “at his place,” where he would drive me and change.
Quite willing, or rather too weary to assert any authority, so on we rumbled and rattled almost twice the distance I was first bound, changed one skeleton for another, and started again for my friend’s house. At last the blessed haven was reached, but the sight of a new face to my summons at the door made my heart sink. She had “moved yesterday.”
“Drive to Miss G.’s house,” was my next direction, intending to throw myself upon her hospitality and charity for the night, for we were out of the way of all hotels.
The same result on application. Had all Richmond moved? The fresh air, and the necessity for exertion in this novel position had routed my headache, and now gave me courage to make a proposition I hadn’t dared to make before.