“A newly-married couple was en route to Washington by the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad. There are many tunnels on this road on the other side of the Ohio river. All through Ohio the face of the young man wore occasional looks of pain, despite his great joy. He seemed to want something. Apparently he yearned.”
“Over in West Virginia the train entered a tunnel. Upon emerging into the light, the young man’s face was seen to wear a studious expression. He was thinking. At first he seemed perplexed, then interested, then triumphant. He had had a revelation. Then he smiled with a firm, manly, continuous smile, and his eyes peered ahead for the first sign of a yawning cavern in the mountain side.”
“The bride was happy and demure.”
“Whish—shadow—rumble—darkness! The veil is drawn. It is another tunnel. Light again, and the young man looks happier than ever. The bride’s cheek disports a gentle blush—a modest, experienced blush, discoverable only to the initiated and envious. No perplexity, no anxiety now. The revelation has been tested and found a success.”
“There are many tunnels, but not enough. If the whole line were a tunnel, the bride and groom would not care how slow the train proceeded.”
“The man who has not lived to bless the builder of tunnels, does not know what happiness is. He is but little above the brute who never troubled the Creator for passing clouds over the moon on prayer-meeting night.”
“But our bridegroom was not one of those parties. He appreciated all the blessings which man and nature had bestowed upon him. He did not miss a tunnel.”
“But all things have an end. Daylight always comes to the newly-married. Strawberries and cream must be paid for at the cashier’s desk. Within the blissful cucumber hides a microbe. Our young husband goes for a drink of water. While on his errand his eager eye catches the signs of another tunnel.”
“Of course he fears his birdie will be sore afraid if left alone in the darkness, and he hastens to her side. Quick move his feet, but faster moves the train. Darkness gathers while he is yet half a dozen seats away. But the brave man does not falter. He gropes along, he reaches the seat, (or thinks he does), and slides into it. Deep are the shadows, and loud hums the train.”
“A scream, long and vigorous—a sound of scuffling—a thump or two—and the bright light of a May day breaks out upon the scene. The young husband frantically endeavors to disengage himself from the grasp of an angry colored woman sitting in the seat just behind his bride. He at length succeeds, and retires silently to his seat, wiping his mouth, and occasionally spitting upon the floor, as if he had bitten through a worm in a fig.”
“The tunnels come and go, but their shadows are scarcely deeper than those upon the face of the young honeymoon.”1
