Inhumanity

2. Progress-1

The train came to a complete stop with a screeching of the wheels. The stop was a little rough as I gathered my things. I would have allowed the stewards to gather my things, but I could not linger for too long. I rushed to cram all my clothing into my bags and prepared myself to exit the car. The sun was just beginning to rise above the train depot; the rays of light shone down onto the train from a seemingly mystical position in the sky. I had never seen the great city of Raleigh in my life. I had never cared to venture that far south, but railways would carry anyone where they wanted to go. No matter how far south or north the traveler would go, the railways would accommodate all; unfortunately, the railways only had a few stops of which you must travel. I looked forward to seeing this great city, however. Nothing would please me more than to see the central location of all industries in North Carolina.

I exited the car with a gentle step. Though my bags were heavy, I still managed to maintain my grace and easy-footedness. When I looked up from my concentration to not fall from the train’s steps, I saw a beautiful city covered in modern brick and beautiful roofs on all the buildings, no matter how important or the lack thereof. I was simply impressed that North Carolina was not just a farmer’s paradise; it could also attract the avid businessman. The streets were kept in a very orderly fashion, even with the wet clay surface that the carriages and horses would carve with each step and roll of the wheels. The sun rose in such a way as to add an almost heavenly appearance to the city. Each building stood in a neat fashion so as to allow the traveler to easily find his bearings in this magnificent city. I stepped from the platform into the building and was taken in by the many travelers passing through this depot. I had heard in New York that Raleigh was a beautiful and vibrant city, but now I was sure that I had found a city of the south that one day might compete with the popularity and sophistication of New York City.

I strolled to the window in the station and presented my documents. The clerk simply looked at me with a rigid style. He smiled and said, “Good morning, sir. May I help you?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “I would like to inquire about the coach that was to meet me at this very station.”

The clerk looked at my documents and said, “Well, Mr. Price, I am pleased to tell you that the coach checked in just a few minutes ago and should be waiting outside.” The man pointed to the door and smiled as if saying, “Please move along.”

I smiled and thanked the man and then strolled casually to the door. Not long after I had exited the station, a man waved at me and said, “Mr. Price, please let me help you with your bags!” I thanked the man and followed him to the coach. “Mr. Price, let me welcome you to Raleigh, North Carolina. It is my pleasure to take you as far as you need to go.” He smiled and bowed to me as he opened the door to the coach.

I entered the coach and said, “Thank you, sir.”

He smiled as he looked me in the eye and walked to the front of the coach where he placed my bags on top of the coach and subsequently clasped them to the roof. He sat at the reins of the coach, and we were traveling as fast as I had arrived. I looked out the windows of the coach and took in all the splendors of the city. Shops, with open doors and beautiful displays, invited customers to shop in them all day. Pedestrians wandered from door to door, gazing through the windows and commenting on the displays, which were placed in such a way as to make you really want to buy whatever the shops were selling. The people here looked so similar to the gentlemen that usually walked the streets of New York City, though the suits they wore were not expensive; in many respects, the suits seemed amazingly well sewn.

The carriage moved steadily through the streets with the wheels bumping and clacking across the road. The driver rode close to the middle of the street until he had to move. I gazed at each new building that we passed, wondering what could lay inside and perhaps for what each building could be used. Each door seemed different with similar people scurrying from the steps to the streets, everyone hurrying in anticipation of the coming evening, rushing to finish what was left to be done. Raleigh was a world away from New York City, but so similar even in the actions of the people.

I continued to watch the people walking on the street as we approached the postal office. “Driver, stop here, please!” I exclaimed. I exited the carriage swiftly and briskly walked up the steps and into the postal office. The door was a massive wooden construction that was elegantly coated to bring out the shine of the wood. I pulled the door open and walked to the desk. “Good day, sir,” said the teller.

“Good evening, I would like to send a letter.”

“Very well, where would you like to send it?”

“I have already marked the address on it, but I would like to buy postage as well.”

“Very well, just one moment, sir.” The teller briskly searched for the correct postage. The sound of papers shifting and small objects being moved emanated from below the desk that was in front of me. The man emerged from below the desk with a sheet of the postage and examined the letter. “Sir, are you sure that you want to send a letter to this location?”

“Yes, I need to inform my cousin that I will be arriving in a couple days.”

“Very good, but the reason that I ask is that it will have to be delivered directly to the recipient’s residence, which will be expensive.”

“Expense is of no consequence to me at this point, sir. I will pay the balance in full.”

“The total will be two dollars.”

I handed the man the money and thanked him for his help. I turned to leave the postal office when I heard someone speak from behind me.

“Excuse me, sir, but are you a Mr. Benjamin Price?”

I turned back to the man and nodded in assurance.

The man looked at me and said, “I have a letter for you here that was postmarked as important.” The man rushed off through a small door and out of sight. Once again I heard the shifting of papers and packages. The man rushed from the doorway and handed me a letter.

“Thank you, sir,” I said and turned toward the door. I left the postal office and entered the coach once more. I sat in the luxurious seat, looking at the letter for a moment before I opened it. I read the letter with haste, which outlined that my aunt had passed away the night before. I felt a crushing alone feeling as well as a feeling that I had failed in my mission to visit my aunt before she passed. I immediately thought about the house and what I would do now to sell it. It was now permanently my property since my aunt’s passing. The longer I thought about selling the property, the more exhausted my mind became. I regressed to my previous activity of watching the citizens of Raleigh as I noticed that the city was quickly coming to an end. I used that time to focus more on the actions of the people I observed.

The road began to change from orderly streets outlined by a master designer to a hodgepodge of dirt and the roots of trees. I looked behind me, observing the city slowly vanishing before my eyes. I wondered at this moment how long this journey would last. It seemed like an eternity since my departure from the station in New York. Oh, how I missed my home, and now the only reminder of civilized culture crept ever out of my sight. The carriage with its driver and I as the passenger rolled faster and faster down the road at a seemingly rapid pace. The sun had risen to a good position in the sky as to light the way for the carriage driver. Trees seemed to dance past us as we continued down the road. I particularly noticed the difference in the trees here as opposed to the city. The birds played and glided along, seeming to soar to and fro while displaying an almost humanlike desire to keep pace with the carriage, which gave me a grand opportunity to observe nature in this region of the south as of my childhood. The wind gently blew through the openings in the carriage, giving me refreshing air as I sat back in the seat, imagining a fine dinner in the uptown district of New York City. Nothing could compare to the way each meal was delicately prepared to the liking of each customer. I could taste succulent steak and chicken, served with a savory herb sauce and potatoes roasted and seasoned to perfection. I could feel the breeze blowing across my face as I thought about the aromas of the cuisine mixed with the fine perfumes of well-to-do people, each couple sitting perfectly mirroring each other in proper fashion, all while delicately sampling each bite of their meals. Nothing fascinated me more than to immerse myself in high society. The streets would always be full of people, strolling from shop to shop, sometimes glancing into the windows and taking notice of new merchandise in each window. Children would exclaim at the sight of a new toy, while women would gawk at the sight of the latest fashions of Paris and other such exotic destinations.

It was at this moment that the carriage took an immediate right down a dusty trail in the forest. I gazed out of the window, wondering where we could be going in such an abrupt way. Deeper and deeper into the forest we traveled as the light dimmed until I could barely see the edges of the trail. The farther the carriage rolled, the more curious I became until we reached a clearing. The sun shone brightly over gentle hills of grass and small shrubs. I watched buildings in the distance grow larger as we traveled on.

The driver yelled, “I am sorry, sir, but we will have to stop and let my horses rest!”

I did not respond but held my reserve as we came ever closer to a house with barns all around. We rolled swiftly over a little hill in the road and turned onto an entranceway to this quaint little farm. Grasses sprang up on the edges of the entranceway, clinging to short stone walls as if to reclaim the ground on which the wall was built. A little wooden gate had been opened, and a man motioned the carriage over to the barn. Horses bayed and stammered as they grazed on hay that had been arranged so as to make it easier to feed the horses at once. People walked from the house to the barn and back again yelling about what needed to be done and delegating the responsibilities of the younger men. Dogs barked in the distance as herds of cows wandered around pastures of beautiful green grasses both long and short. The barn gleamed with the sun’s rays bouncing off the side of the deep brown and rustic wooden side facing the entranceway to the farm. Men carried load after load of hay to pile in front of the horses that had lined up to graze. The farm was a true picturesque glimpse into the country life and all that it has to offer.