PECULIARITIES OF TRAVELERS.
NEXT morning I took an early train for Wheeling, which city I desired to
visit on my westward way.
On this occasion, about twelve minutes before the train started, two men
came in, and, desiring to sit together and finding no seat wholly
vacant, one of them had the incredible, the unparalleled, the
unexampled, the unheard-of audacity to ask me to move and sit with
another person—a thing I have refused to do even to accommodate a lady.
It was not yet quite light in the car, as the sun was not up, and I
pointed to my crutch, that stood leaning against the back of the seat in
front of me, and stated that I had been badly shot in the knee the
previous night, in a saloon difficulty, and that it was impossible for
me to move with any sort of comfort or ease. Moreover, I observed, that
my uncle was to accompany me on my journey, to take care of me, that he
would of course occupy the seat with me, and that he had just gone to a
neighboring saloon to get me a glass of ale and hand it in at the
window. Otherwise, I said, I should accommodate them by moving to any
part of the car they might desire, and take pleasure in it.
Taking all I said for the truth,—and thus making a wholesale
mistake—they turned and went to the rear end of the car, where they
urgently requested a respectable-looking negro passenger to get up and
let them have his seat. But he knew his rights, and, knowing, durst
maintain; and he maintained them after this manner:
“Guess not.”
“O, come, now,” argued one of the two passengers; “you might as well.
You’ll be just as comfortable some——”
“Well, now, I guess I won’t leab dis yer, by golly!”
“You might have to,” suggested one of the Caucasians.
“Hab to? Like to see de man——”
“For half-a-cent I’d move you!”
The darkey was now very much “riled,” and being, besides, a little
drunk, and naturally ill-natured and habitually profane in his language,
he railed out thus:
“No, I’ll be (profanity) if you does! (Profanity) my heart, if I jis’
didn’ fight fur dis (profanity) country, and I’ll be (profanity,
profanity, profanitied) if I ain’t as good as any oder (profanity) man!
I know what my rights is! I does! I’ll be (profanity, profanitied) if I
don’t! (Profanity, profanity, profanity, profanity)——”
“Look here!” exclaimed the conductor, who had just entered the car, and
was adjusting the bell-cord; “what the (here he made a concise and
pointed allusion to a dark personage who wears a tail with a dart on the
end of it, and carries off bad boys that won’t mind their mothers and
who run off and play base ball when sent to school) do you mean? What
are you cursing that way for? Don’t you see there are ladies in the
car——”
“Dey wants my seat, and——”
“Well, they havn’t got it, have they? You shall keep your seat, if you
want to. No one is going to take it from you! Now, another word out of
your black head, and I’ll split it for you, and throw it out of the
window, a piece at a time!”
The two troublesome travelers had, meantime, located themselves in
separate seats, as near each other as possible; the darkey said no more,
and quiet reigned for a moment or so.
Glancing out at my window, which I had raised, I presently saw two
Irishmen—both drunk—approaching the car; and one of them was carrying a
valise, a fiddle, a hat-box, a saw, a side of leather, an overcoat and
an extra pair of boots. He was evidently going on a journey; but the
other was in his shirt-sleeves, and had only accompanied him to the
train to see him off.
“Good-by, Mike,” said he in his shirt-sleeves. “Take gude care o’
yer-sel.”
“I’ll do that, Zhammie,” said the traveler, who was the drunkest of the
two. “When’ll’seeyez’gin, m’b’y?”
“I’ll mate ye’n Whalin’, Mike. Steek till the cause, me boy. Don’t
forgit the Fanians an’ yer counthry!”
By this time, a number of the passengers who sat on the same side of the
car with me had raised their windows, and were now listening to this
dialogue, much amused. The conversation was carried on in loud, harsh
tones.
“F’rgit m’ counthry an’ th’ cause? Och! I shud thaink naught,” said the
Milesian traveler, who was now about to ascend the steps to the platform
of the car I was in.
He paused a moment, before blundering up, and then struck up a patriotic
Fenian song, the first verse of which was something like this:
“Och! Kra! Kri mo kreeh! mee barry braugh,
Augh quih-queeh, McQuairy, O!
Grah me Kreh! Grah me Kree! Ahkushlee! Hurrah!
Mike graughin, Och borry bro!”
“Good me b’y!” exclaimed his friend, grasping his hand. “Wull done,
that! Now, good-by, Mike. Tak care o’ yer-sel!”
“Good-by, till ye, Zhammie. God be good till ye!”
After shaking hands cordially, they parted. He in his shirt-sleeves,
James, by name, walked away, with some sadness naturally engendered by
the parting; while Michael entered the car and took a seat by the
darkey—for all the rest were entirely occupied by this time—his saw, as
he sat down, accidentally grazing the darkey’s cheek, and coming within
half-an-inch of sawing one of his white eyes out.
“’Scuse me, dairlint,” said Mike; and he deposited his luggage down
among both their feet, threw himself carelessly back in his seat, with
his cheek resting on his dusky companion’s shoulder, and soon fell
asleep.
The pleasant (?) time the conductor had waking him, when he came round
for his ticket, might be described with excellent effect, by a
professional humorist; but let the reader picture it in his imagination.