Stuyvesant Part 24

"Accidents are not adventures," said Phonny.

"They lead to adventures," replied Beechnut.

"But now for my directions," said Stuyvesant.

"Well, as for your directions," replied Beechnut, "I can either go over the whole ground with you, and tell you what to do in each particular case,--or I can give you one universal rule, which will guide you in traveling in all cases, wherever you go. Which would you prefer?"

"I should prefer the rule," said Stuyvesant, "if that will be enough to guide me."

"Yes," said Beechnut, "it is enough to guide you, not only from here to New York, but all over the civilized world."

"What is the rule?" asked Stuyvesant.

"I shall write it down for you," replied Beechnut, "and you can read it in the stage, to-morrow morning, or in the cars."

"Well," said Stuyvesant,--"if you are sure that it will be enough for me."

"Yes," replied Beechnut, "I am sure it will be enough. It is the rule that I always travel by, and I find it will carry me safely anywhere.

It is an excellent rule for ladies, who are traveling alone. If they would only trust themselves to it, it would be all the guidance that they would need."

"Well," said Stuyvesant, "I will decide to take the rule."

Shortly after this, Beechnut and the children all went into the house, and Stuyvesant and Phonny went to bed. Stuyvesant was so much excited, however, at the thoughts of his journey, that it was a long time before he could get to sleep.

He woke at the earliest dawn. He rose and dressed himself, and took his breakfast at six o'clock. At seven the stage came for him.

Beechnut carried his trunk out to the stage, and the driver strapped it on in its place, behind. Mrs. Henry and Malleville stood at the door to see. Stuyvesant went first to the kitchen, to bid Dorothy good-by, and then came out through the front door, and bade Mrs. Henry and Malleville good-by.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DEPARTURE.]

By this time the driver of the stage had finished strapping on the trunk, and had opened the door and was waiting for Stuyvesant to get in. Beechnut handed Stuyvesant a small note. He said that the Traveling Rule was inside of it, but that Stuyvesant must not open the note until he got into the car on the railroad. So Stuyvesant took the note and put it in his pocket, and then shaking hands with Beechnut and Phonny, and putting his carpet-bag in before him, he climbed up the steps and got into the stage. The driver shut the door, mounted upon the box, and drove away.

Stuyvesant had about twenty-five miles to go in the stage. He was then to take the cars upon a railroad and go about a hundred and fifty miles to Boston. From Boston he was to go to New York, either by the railroad all the way, or by one of the Sound boats, just as he pleased.

Stuyvesant had a great curiosity to know what the rule was which Beechnut had written for him as a universal direction for traveling.

He had, however, been forbidden to open the note until he should reach the cars. So he waited patiently, wondering what the rule could be.

One reason in fact why Beechnut had directed Stuyvesant not to open his note until he should reach the cars, was to give him something to occupy his attention and amuse his thoughts on first going away from home. The feeling of loneliness and home-sickness to be apprehended in traveling under such circ.u.mstances, is always much greater when first setting out on the journey than afterward, and Beechnut being aware of this, thought it desirable to give Stuyvesant something to think of when he first drove away from the door.

When Stuyvesant first got into the stage he took a place on the middle of the front seat, which was not a very good place, for he could not see. Pretty soon, however, he had an opportunity to change to a place on the middle seat, near the window. Here he enjoyed the ride very much. He could look out and see the farms, and the farm-houses, and the people pa.s.sing, as the stage drove along, and at intervals he amused himself with listening to the conversation of the people in the stage.

It was about ten o'clock when the stage arrived at the railroad station. As they drew near to the place, Stuyvesant began to consider what he should have to do in respect to getting his trunk transferred from the stage to the train of cars. He knew very well that he could ask the driver what to do, but he felt an ambition to find out himself, and he accordingly concluded to wait until after he had got out of the stage, and had had an opportunity to make his own observations before troubling the driver with his questions. As for his ticket, he was aware that he must buy that at the ticket-office, and he supposed that he could find the ticket-office very readily.

When the stage stopped, Stuyvesant and all the other pa.s.sengers got out. The stage was standing near a platform which extended along the side of one of the buildings of the station. As soon as the pa.s.sengers had got out, the driver began to take off the trunks from the rack behind the stage, and to put them on the platform.

There was a gentleman among the pa.s.sengers who had said in the course of conversation in the stage, that he belonged in Boston, and was going there. It occurred to Stuyvesant that it would be a good plan to watch this man and see what he would do in respect to his trunk, and then do the same in respect to his own. So he stood on the platform while the driver was taking down the trunks, and said nothing.

The driver put the trunks and baggage down, in heaps of confusion all about the platform, and though the pa.s.sengers were all standing around, none of them paid much attention to what he was doing; this led Stuyvesant to think that there was no urgent necessity for haste or anxiety about the business, but that in some way or other it would all come right in the end. So he stood quietly by, and said nothing.

The result was just as he had antic.i.p.ated; for after he had been standing there a short time, a man with a band about his hat, on which were inscribed the words BAGGAGE-MASTER, came out from a door in the station-house, and advancing toward the baggage with a business-like air, he said,

"Now then, gentlemen, tell me where all this baggage is going to?"

As the baggage-master said this, the people standing by began to point out their several trunks, and to say where they were to go. As fast as the baggage-master was informed of the destination of the trunks and carpet-bags, he would fasten a check upon each one by means of a small strap, and give the mate of the check to the owner of the baggage.

Stuyvesant stood quietly by, watching this operation until it came to the turn of the gentleman who he had observed was going to Boston.

"That trunk is to go to Boston," said the gentleman, pointing to his trunk.

So the baggage-master checked the trunk and gave the duplicate check to the gentleman.

"And that trunk is to go to Boston too," said Stuyvesant, pointing to his own trunk.

So the baggage-master put a check upon Stuyvesant's trunk and gave Stuyvesant the duplicate of it.

Stuyvesant observed that as soon as the baggage was checked, the owners of it appeared to go away at once, and to give themselves no farther concern about it, and he inferred that it would be safe for him to do so too. So he went into the station to find the ticket-office, in order to buy his ticket. He saw, in a corner of the room, a sort of window with a counter before it, and a sign, with the words TICKET OFFICE above. Stuyvesant went to this window. The Boston gentleman was there, buying his ticket.

"_One_ for Boston," said the gentleman. As he said this, he laid down a bank-bill upon the counter just within the window. The ticket seller gave him two tickets and some change.

"He said _one_ and he has got _two_," said Stuyvesant to himself. "I wonder what that means."

Stuyvesant then took the Boston gentleman's place at the window, and laid down a bank bill upon the counter, saying:

"_Half_ a one, for Boston."

The ticket-seller looked at Stuyvesant a moment over his spectacles, with a very inquiring expression of countenance, and then said,

"How old are you, my boy?"

"I am between nine and ten," said Stuyvesant.

"And are you going to Boston, all alone?" asked the man.

"Yes, sir," said Stuyvesant.

So the man gave Stuyvesant two tickets and his change, and Stuyvesant put them, tickets, money and all, carefully in his wallet, and turned away. He observed that each of his tickets had one of the corners cut off. This was to show that they were for a boy who had only paid half-price.

As Stuyvesant turned to go away, he met the driver of the stage coming toward him.

"Ah, Stuyvesant," said he, "I was looking for you. Have you got your tickets?"

"Yes," said Stuyvesant.

"And is your trunk checked?" asked the driver.

"Yes," said Stuyvesant.

"Very well, then; it's all right. I was going to show you. I did not suppose that you knew how to take care of yourself so well."

There were no cars at the station at this time. It was a way station, and the train was to pa.s.s there, and stop a few minutes to take up pa.s.sengers, but it had not yet arrived. Stuyvesant went round to see what had been done with his trunk. It had been removed from the place where he had left it, but after a time he found it, with others, on another platform near the railroad track. He supposed that that was the place where the train was to come in.