The Color of Rain by John Feist

Author:John Feist [Feist, John W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781735749747
Publisher: Winter Wheat Press
Published: 2021-07-03T07:58:57+00:00

Mailed April 8, 1897, from Houston, Texas.

F. M. Wilson, Horton, Kansas

My dearest Friend,

I sent you a brief note this morning telling you of our safe arrival and promising to write a longer letter later—alliteration unintentional.

I believe you suggested in one of your letters the advisability of a private telephone. I am afraid our conversations would melt the wires so I think the scheme would better be abandoned as an impracticable one.

Monday morning at 9:34 we left Nortonville; Charlie met us at Topeka where we had dinner, leaving there at 12:00 p.m.

At Emporia I went into the car ahead as it was nearer the station and I thought I might see someone whom I knew. You didn’t caution me about that in your rules and regulations in travelling so concluded it was permissible. My Mother happened to be looking out of the window at the time and did not observe I had gone till she glanced around and saw my seat vacant. In the car ahead I met a very pleasant girl and had a little chat with her; after awhile I walked leisurely back into our car to find my Mother and some of the passengers greatly agitated on my sudden exit. The whole scene was so ridiculous that I laughed heartily—my view of the situation seemed to be contagious for immediately the whole car saw the funny side and joined in the laugh. No one seemed to have seen me leave the car and the general impression I think, was that I had escaped through the train or vanished in thin air.

We reached Arkansas City at 7:25 when we had supper or rather the train stopped then for supper. We were supplied with a huge lunch basket and ate earlier in the evening. We went to bed at 8:45 as Mama was tired. We both rested splendidly and arose at 6:30 Tuesday morning very much refreshed. We were very sorry to pass through Oklahoma and the Indian Territory at night. We saw nothing of that country as we retired in S. Western Kansas and arose near Fort Worth Texas.

I wonder if there isn’t more truth than you thought for in your remarks about Mr. Murphy. I received a letter from him today. He did not spend last Sunday with us as you imagined.

Lovingly and Sincerely,

Irene

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