Further conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the train, and so, bidding Edwards a hasty good by, and assuring him that a full report of the proceedings would be made to him on our return, we boarded the cars, and soon left Belmont station far behind us.
Berkeley was situated ten miles from Belmont, and on the banks of the same stream that flowed into our lake, so that travel could be effected between the two towns either by water or by rail, although the latter was a far shorter route, for the small river Mahr wound in and out amongst the picturesque hills of Berkshire, almost doubling the distance to Berkeley.
The trip by rail took scarcely more than twenty-five or thirty minutes, and this time was employed by us in anticipating the business of the next day’s meeting.
As this was my first experience of the kind, I was in no position to express positive opinions, but was content to listen to the conversation of my two companions, and to obtain from them all the information I could concerning the various questions that would come up for consideration in the convention.
The time passed quickly, therefore, and almost before we were aware of it, the train slackened speed, the door of the car opened, and the conductor shouted,
“Berkeley! All out for Berkeley!”
It was about ten minutes past eight when we reached the Wyman House, which stood in the center of the town and some distance from Park College, the latter being situated nearly a quarter of a mile from the town limits of Berkeley.
As Ray registered our names, some one touched him on the shoulder. He turned and found himself face to face with Slade. The latter held out his hand.
“How do you do, Mr. Wendell? I’m glad to see you. I suppose you got my telegram all right.”