| From the Memphis Appeal |
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| May 7, 1864 |
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| The Passenger Depot |
| The people of Atlanta style
the passenger depot the car shed, but why, no one can tell. The Depot is
a great institution. It is a living panorama of life Here you can see
men, women and children of all sizes, complexions and ages. Black eyes,
blue eyes, gray eyes, hazle eyes and red eyes. All kinds of hair; from
that which might shame the raven's plume to that resembling the sun in
fiery appearance. Long legs, short ones, crippled and bow, form the
locomotive powers of some of the "genus homo" who assemble there. The
little boy with his cakes and bear, the girl with here buttermilk, and
the old woman with her pies, potatoes and biscuit, find quick sales at
handsome profits, at the depot. When the train arrives the depot works
like a beehive, with a busy, jostling crowd. Here are sick soldiers just
coming down from the front, and well ones returning to their commands.
In another part of the depot, coming with great haste, are young maidens
and grave matrons with work for the Government, to carry home with them
to support themselves if they can by it, while Johnnie or Willie is "of
to the wars." The newsboys mingle in with the crowd, making the welkin
ring with the cry of "Here's you APPEAL," while passengers are rushing
into the cars, and the conductors and railroad men are frantic in their
efforts to get off. The express wagons loaded to their fullest extent
come lumbering up, and soon disgorge their contents into the cavernous
maw of the car. The whistle blows, the cars move off, and the crowd
vanishes. |
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