Now twice a day, the shriek of his diabolical whistle
pierced the umbrageous woods and hilly gorges for miles away, and its
cry to many a solitary household was the epoch of the day. Hearing it,
John mounted his nag and scampered away to the station for the Boston
journals of yesterday. Seth harnessed Peggy, and drove off in the buggy
in all possible haste, to see if the mail had brought a letter from Amzi
who was in New York, or from Nimrod who had gone to work in "Bosting,"
or if the train had brought Sally and her children from the city, who
were expected home on a visit. Here, under pretext of waiting for the
cars, congregated the drones and supernumeraries of the different
neighborhoods, lounging on the steps, hacking the benches with their
jack-knives for hours together, while they discussed politics, and
talked over their own and their neighbors' affairs.
A walk to the station on a summer evening, was more to the boys and
girls of this rural region, than a Broadway promenade to a metropolitan
belle. Their day's task done, here they met in pairs, comparing finery
and indulging in flirtations, with an impunity which would not have been
tolerated by their elders at the Sunday recess in the meeting-house.
Then, besides, it was such an exciting sight to see the cars come in,
to see the long rows of strange faces, and to catch glimpses of the new
fashions at their open windows.
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