Bressant jumped on to the platform of the newly-arrived train. The cars
were pretty full; but, coming at last to a vacant seat by the side of a
clean-shaven gentleman with a straight, hard mouth, and a glossy-brown
wig, curling smoothly inward all around the edge, he dropped into it
without ceremony.
The train left the depot and hurried away over the road which Bressant
had just traversed in the opposite direction. He sat with his arms
folded, appearing to take no notice of any thing, and his neighbor with
the wig read the latest edition of a New-York paper with stern
attention, occasionally altering the position of his stove-pipe hat on
his head. By-and-by, the conductor, a small, precise man, with a
dark-blue coat, cap to match, a neatly-trimmed sandy beard, shaved upper
lip, and an utterance as distinct and clippy as the holes his steel
punch made in the tickets, came along upon his rounds.
Bressant put his hands into his pockets, and discovered, with some
consternation, that he had but a comparatively small amount of money
left; his newly-accepted poverty was certainly losing no time in making
itself felt. However, such as it was, he handed it to the conductor, and
inquired how near it would take him to his proposed destination.
"Eighty-one miles, rail," responded the official, as he took and clipped
the ticket of the gentleman with the newspaper; "comes shorter by road,
seventy-four to seventy-five," and he proceeded down the aisle, snapping
up tickets on one side or the other, as a hen does grains of corn.
Bressant covered his eyes with his hand, and amused himself by
performing a little sum in mental arithmetic. The amount of money he had
given the conductor represented a distance which it would take a certain
length of time--say four hours--to traverse. It was now four o'clock in
the afternoon, and consequently would be eight before that distance was
accomplished. From eight o'clock Saturday night, till twelve o'clock
Sunday noon, was sixteen hours, and in sixteen hours he must travel, on
foot, and through the snow, seventy-five miles of unknown roads.
"Four and a half miles an hour, and nothing to eat since breakfast,"
said Bressant to himself. He took his hand from his eyes, and passed it
down his face to his beard, which he twisted and turned unmercifully.
"It's lucky it isn't any more," remarked he, philosophically.
In the course of half an hour or so, the straight-mouthed gentleman,
having finished the last column of his paper, folded it up into the
smallest possible compass, and handed it politely to Bressant. The
latter accepted it abstractedly, and, opening one fold, read the first
paragraph which presented itself, his interest increasing as he
proceeded. It was in the column of latest local news, and, after
bewailing, in choice language, the frightful prevalence, even among the
highest aristocracy, of opium-eating and kindred indulgences, it went on
to particularize the sad case of an esteemed lady, of great wealth and
high connections, widow of a scion of one of our oldest families, who,
having unwisely yielded herself, during many years past, to an
inordinate use of morphine, as an antidote to nervous disorder, had, on
the previous evening, in a temporary paroxysm of madness, succeeded in
taking her own life. "No other cause can be assigned for the rash act,"
pursued the paragraph, "Mrs. V---- being, in all other respects than as
regarded this unfortunate weakness, blessed beyond the average. She was
at the moment, it is understood, contemplating immediate departure for a
lengthened sojourn in Europe, taking with her an only son, a young man
of fine attainments, and a recent graduate of one of our first
theological seminaries, who desired to seek, among the European
capitals, at once for the recreation and culture, which the arduous
preparation for and the enlightened prosecution of his exalted calling
rendered respectively necessary and desirable. It is not known whether
this sad casualty will cause him to relinquish his design."