"_Gentlemen, let not prejudice prepossess you._"
Izaak Walton
Car No. 14, Fifth Street line, Philadelphia, was crowded. Travelling
bags, shawls, and dusters marked that people were making for the 11 A.M.
New York train, Kensington depot. One pleasant-looking old gentleman
whose face shone under a broad brim, and whose cleanly drabs were
brought into distasteful proximity with the garments of a drunken
coal-heaver, after a vain effort to edge away, relieved his mind by
turning to his neighbor with the statement, "Consistency is a jewel."
"Undoubtedly true, Mr. Greenleaf," answered the neighbor, "but what
caused the remark?"
"That,"--looking with mild disgust at the dirty and ragged leg sitting
by his own. "Here's this filthy fellow, a nuisance to everybody near
him, can ride in these cars, and a nice, respectable colored person
can't. So I couldn't help thinking, and saying, that consistency is a
jewel."
"Well, it's a shame,--that's a fact; but of course nobody can interfere
if the companies don't choose to let them ride; it's their concern, not
ours."
"There's a fine specimen now, out there on the sidewalk." The fine
specimen was a large, powerfully made man, black as ebony, dressed in
army blouse and trousers, one leg gone,--evidently very tired, for he
leaned heavily on his crutches. The conductor, a kindly-faced young
fellow, pulled the strap, and helped him on to the platform with a
peremptory "Move up front, there!" to the people standing inside.
"Why!" exclaimed the old Friend,--"do my eyes deceive me?" Then getting
up, and taking the man by the arm, he seated him in his own place: "Thou
art less able to stand than I."
Tears rushed to his eyes as he said, "Thank you, sir! you are too kind."
Evidently he was weak, and as evidently unaccustomed to find any one
"too kind."
"Thee has on the army blue; has thee been fighting any?"
"Yes, sir!" he answered, promptly.
"I didn't know black men were in the army; yet thee has lost a leg.
Where did that go?"
"At Newbern, sir."
"At Newbern,--ah! long ago? and how did it happen?"
"Fourteenth of March, sir. There was a land fight, and the gunboats
came up to the rescue. Some of us black men were upon board a little
schooner that carried one gun. 'Twasn't a great deal we could do with
that, but we did the best we could; and got well peppered in return.
This is what it did for me,"--looking down at the stump.
"I guess thee is sorry now that thee didn't keep out of it, isn't thee?"
"No, sir; no indeed, sir. If I had five hundred legs and fifty lives,
I'd be glad to give them all in such a war as this."
Here somebody got out; the old Friend sat down; and the coal-heaver,
roused by the stir, lifted himself from his drunken sleep, and, looking
round, saw who was beside him.
A vile oath, an angry stare from his bloodshot eyes.
"Ye ----, what are ye doin' here? out wid ye, quick!"
"What's the matter?" queried the conductor, who was collecting
somebody's fare.
"The matther, is it? matther enough! what's this nasty nagur doin' here?
Put him out, can't ye?"
The conductor took no notice.
"Conductor!" spoke up a well-dressed man, with the air and manner of a
gentleman, "what does that card say?"
The conductor looked at the card indicated, upon which was printed
"Colored people not allowed in this car," legible enough to require less
study than he saw fit to give it. "Well!" he said.
"Well," was the answer,--"your duty is plain. Put that fellow out."
The conductor hesitated,--looked round the car. Nobody spoke.
"I'm sorry, my man! I hoped there would be no objection when I let you
in; but our orders are strict, and, as the passengers ain't willing,
you'll have to get off,"--jerking angrily at the bell.
As the car slackened speed, a young officer, whom nobody noticed, got
on.
There was a moment's pause as the black man gathered up his crutches,
and raised himself painfully. "Stop!" cried a thrilling and passionate
voice,--"stand still! Of what stuff are you made to sit here and see a
man, mangled and maimed in _your_ cause and for _your_ defence, insulted
and outraged at the bidding of a drunken boor and a cowardly traitor?"
The voice, the beautiful face, the intensity burning through both,
electrified every soul to which she appealed. Hands were stretched out
to draw back the crippled soldier; eyes that a moment before were turned
away looked kindly at him; a Babel of voices broke out, "No, no," "let
him stay," "it's a shame," "let him alone, conductor," "we ain't so bad
as that," with more of the same kind; those who chose not to join in the
chorus discreetly held their peace, and made no attempt to sing out of
time and tune.
The car started again. The _gentleman_, furious at the turn of the tide,
cried out, "Ho, ho! here's a pretty preacher of the gospel of equality!
why, ladies and gentlemen, this high-flyer, who presumes to lecture us,
is nothing but a"--
The sentence was cut short in mid-career, the insolent sneer dashed out
of his face,--face and form prone on the floor of the car,--while over
him bent and blazed the young officer, whose entrance, a little while
before, nobody had heeded.
Spurning the prostrate body at his feet, he turned to Francesca, for it
was she, and stretched out his hand,--his left hand,--his only one. It
was time; all the heat, and passion, and color, had died out, and she
stood there shivering, a look of suffering in her face.
"Miss Ercildoune! you are ill,--you need the air,--allow me!" drawing
her hand through his arm, and taking her out with infinite deference and
care.
"Thank you! a moment's faintness,--it is over now," as they reached the
sidewalk.
"No, no, you are too ill to walk,--let me get you a carriage."
Hailing one that was passing by, he put her in, his hand lingering on
hers, lingering on the folds of her dress as he bent to arrange it; his
eyes clinging to her face with a passionate, woeful tenderness. "It is
two years since I saw you, since I have heard from you," he said, his
voice hoarse with the effort to speak quietly.
"Yes," she answered, "it is two years." Stooping her head to write upon
a card, her lips moved as if they said something,--something that
seemed like "I must! only once!" but of course that could not be. "It is
my address," she then said, putting the card in his hand. "I shall be
happy to see you in my own home."
"This afternoon?" eagerly.
She hesitated. "Whenever you may call. I thank you again,--and good
morning."
Meanwhile the car had moved on its course: outwardly, peaceful enough;
inwardly, full of commotion. The conservative gentleman, gathering
himself up from his prone estate, white with passion and chagrin, saw
about him everywhere looks of scorn, and smiles of derision and
contempt, and fled incontinently from the sight.
His coal-heaving _confrère_, left to do battle alone, came to the charge
valiant and unterrified. Another outbreak of blasphemy and obscenity
were the weapons of assault; the ladies looked shocked, the gentlemen
indignant and disgusted.
"Friend," called the non-resistant broad-brim, beckoning peremptorily to
the conductor,--"friend, come here."
The conductor came.
"If colored persons are not permitted to ride, I suppose it is equally
against the rules of the company to allow nuisances in their cars. Isn't
it?"
"You are right, sir," assented the conductor, upon whose face a smile of
comprehension began to beam.
"Well, I don't know what thee thinks, or what these other people think,
but I know of no worse nuisance than a filthy, blasphemous drunkard.
There he sits,--remove him."
There was a perfect shout of laughter and delight; and before the irate
"citizen" comprehended what was intended, or could throw himself into a
pugilistic attitude, he was seized, _sans_ ceremony, and ignominiously
pushed and hustled from the car; the people therein, black soldier and
all, drawing a long breath of relief, and going on their way rejoicing.
Everybody's eyes were brighter; hearts beat faster, blood moved more
quickly; everybody felt a sense of elation, and a kindness towards their
neighbor and all the world. A cruel and senseless prejudice had been
lost in an impulse, generous and just; and for a moment the sentiment
which exalted their humanity, vivified and gladdened their souls.