Pittsburg Dispatch: “You would be surprised at the number of mental travelers that are in a community,” said a railroad man yesterday. “I mean people who travel only in their minds; who, to indulge this mania, make a collection of railroad literature, such as is issued in time-tables, excursion books, pamphlets, etc. You have often heard people talk knowingly of a place which you have best evidence that hey have never visited. They can discourse fluently upon the hotels and principal sights of the city, even tell you of the trains and the connections they make, or describe the small stations through which they pass going there. If you have ever known a man or woman like this, then you have met a mental traveler. He might also be dubbed a railroad literature fiend, as this it the title by which he is known among the employes of a railroad office, who look no further into the motives of men than the surface. We have hundreds of such men and women who come tot he office after every piece of literature the railroad prints, from the local time-tables to the book descriptive of a southern or western jaunt. Their thirst for this kind of literature can never be satiated; it seems to have the same influence as alcoholic stimulants–the more they get the more they want. We have men who are employed in leading positions in banks and business houses who come to us daily with the question, ‘Anything new out?’ When the people live in the city they usually call upon us daily, but when they reside in the country their visits are at longer intervals. We have one old man who comes from Westmoreland county who never fails to appear upon the same date of each month. He seems to revel in going through the large batch of time-tables and books that have accumulated since his last visit. He never varies in his mode of procedure. After supplying himself with a sample of each one he comes over to the window, and, with his face wreathed in smiles, in the intoxication of his delight, he says, ‘How’re you, anyhow?’ After being assured that our health still permitted us to continue at our business, he always asks, “Well, kin you tell me how much’s the fare to Boston?’ When this information is given he invariably remarks, ‘Well, that’s gol darn cheap, that is.’ Then he lapses into a thoughtful mood, from which he breaks by making the assertion, ‘Confound me, I’ll go down therw next year.’ Then picking up his grip, he starts off and we do not see him again for a month. He has been going to Boston ‘next year’ to my own knowledge for six years. These mental travelers get more satisfaction out of their dreamy wanderings than the usual tourist of the day who travels not to learn, but to kill time. One man told me that he had never been to Washington in his life, yet was as familiar with the getting there and the city itself as if he had lived there his lifetime. He can talk about the streets and numbers, and can direct people from one place to another with more accuracy that the average Pittsburg policeman can give you information about his town, and gets it all from railroad literature. You watch the time-table racks of a railroad station and notice what a high class of people these mental travelers are.”
[tags]Ann Arbor Register, April, 1895[/tags]