“Yes, it was, truly,” remarked the passenger.
The train was now approaching a station, and the conductor broke off the conversation, to which Whistler had listened with much interest, and left the car.
Railroad travelling, after the first hour or two, usually becomes rather tedious, and the experience of our young travellers was not materially different from that of older people. Now and then, however, as they dashed on, an incident served to enliven the way. The attention which the train every where attracted, although it must have been as familiar a sight as the rising of the sun, accorded well with Clinton’s feelings; but he was somewhat at a loss to account for the fact itself. In the villages and at the dépôts people stared at the engine and cars as intently as if they had never before seen such a sight. In passing over a river they were greeted with cheers, the swinging of hats, and the elevating of oars, by a party of boys in a small boat. At one station a little black dog had the presumption to run a race with the train as it started up, but he soon gave up the contest. A horse in a pasture kicked defiance at his iron namesake, with heels high in the air, and galloped to the remotest bounds of his enclosure. A flock of sheep in a field huddled tremblingly together, and then broke the solid phalanx, and hastily fled, as the train went thundering by. A brood of chickens snuggled under their mother’s ample wings; and even that most grave and unimpassioned of domestic animals, the cow, many of which they passed, almost invariably looked up with a wondering expression of countenance, and seemed more than half inclined to ask what the fuss was all about. Such is the homage which man and beast ever pay to the railroad train, the novelty and wonder of which are scarcely diminished by our familiarity with it.
It was late in the evening when our young travellers reached their journey’s end. Ella’s brother, Ralph, was waiting their arrival at the dépôt, and his fair young face lit up with joy when he saw his sister and Whistler descend from the train. As Ella was encumbered with a trunk, he procured a place for her and her baggage in a coach, and then walked, with the other boys, towards the quarter of the city in which both families resided.
CHAPTER XI.
THE CITY HOME.
WHEN Clinton awoke the next morning, and looked around upon the large, high chamber, and the strange furniture, and caught a glimpse through the windows of a long row of brick buildings, he could, at first, hardly tell where he was. Consciousness quickly returned, however, as he called to mind the long journey of the day before, and the warm greetings which he and Whistler received at the end of it. His cousin, whose bed he shared, was still soundly sleeping, although the sun’s bright rays had found their way into the room. People are apt to be more wasteful of their morning hours in the city than in the country. Clinton’s curiosity to see how the neighborhood looked by daylight would not allow him to remain long in bed. He got up quickly, dressed himself, and was peering inquisitively from the windows, when a loud scratching at the door led him to open it, and in sprang Bouncer, Whistler’s handsome and intelligent dog. With one leap he was on the bed, and in a moment the sleeper was awakened, and engaged in a lively frolic with his four-footed friend.
“O, you black rogue!” said Whistler, seizing him by the fore paws; “you’re glad I’ve got home, are you? Then kiss me, that’s a good fellow. There! that will do! Yes, he’s glad his master’s got home, so he is; and he almost flew off the handle last night, didn’t he? and he couldn’t wait for him to get up this morning, could he? Well, his master’s glad to see him, too, so he is. There, sir, you’ve kissed me enough; now jump down, and let me get up. Go and kiss him,” pointing to Clinton. “That’s cousin Clinton. Don’t you know him?”
“You ought to know me, Bouncer, for you sent me a wag of your tail in a letter last spring,” said Clinton, alluding to a rough pen and ink sketch of Bouncer’s tail which Whistler’s father had enclosed in a letter to Clinton, among sundry little love messages from the family.