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You get in a sleeping-car soon after dark in Philadelphia, and after ruminating an hour or two, have your bed made up if you like, draw the curtains, and go to sleep in it fly on through Jersey to New York hear in your half-slumbers a dull jolting and bumping sound or two are unconsciously toted from Jersey City by a midnight steamer around the Battery and under the big bridge to the track of the New Haven road resume your flight eastward, and early the next morning you wake up in Boston.
Sometimes we passed a house, or rumbled through a village, stopping perhaps to arouse some drowsy postmaster, who appeared at the door in shirt and pantaloons, yawning, received the mail, returned it again, and was yawning when last seen. A few words exchanged among the passengers, as they roused themselves from their half-slumbers, or dreamy, slumber-like abstraction.
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