A Guest at the Ludlow, and Other Stories

by Bill Nye

  ADVICE TO A SON

  XXVII

  MY DEAR SON: I just came here to New York on business, and thought Iwould write to you a few lines, as I have a little time that is nottaken up. I came here on a train from Chicago the other day. Before Istarted, I got a lower berth in a sleeping car, but when I went to putmy sachel in it, before I left Chicago, there were two women and alittle girl there, and so I told the porter I would wait until theymoved before I put my baggage in the section, for of course I thoughtthey were just sitting there for a minute to rest.

  Hours rolled by and they did not move. I kept on sitting in thesmoking-room, but they stayed. By and by the porter came and asked me ifI had "lower four." I said yes--I paid for it, but I couldn't really sayI had it in my possession. He then said that two ladies and a littlegirl had "upper four," and asked if I would mind swapping with them. Isaid that I would do so, for I didn't see how a whole family circlecould climb up into the upper berth and remain there, and I would rathergive them the lower one than spend the night picking up differentmembers of the family and replacing them in the home nest after they hadfallen out.

  I had a bad cold, and though I knew that sleeping in the upper berthwould add to it, I did not murmur. But little did I realize that theywould hold the whole thing all of two days, and fill it full of brokencrackers and banana peels, and leave me to ride backward in thesmoking-room from Chicago to New York, after I had paid five dollars fora seat and lower berth.

  Woman is a poor, frail vessel, Henry, but she manages to arrive at herdestination all right. She buys an upper berth and then swaps it with anold man for his lower berth, giving to boot a half-smothered sob and twoscalding tears. Then she says "Thank you," if she feels like it at theend of the road, though these women did not. I have pneuemonia in itsearly stages, but I have done a kind act, which I shall probably haveto do over again when I return.

  If you ever become the parent of a daughter, Henry, and you like herpretty well, I hope you will teach her to acknowledge a courtesy,instead of looking upon the earth and the fullness thereof as apartnership property, owned jointly by herself and the Lord.

  A woman who has traveled a good deal is generally polite, and knows howto treat her fellow passengers and the porter, but people who are makingtheir first or second trip, I notice, most generally betray the fact bytramping all over the other passengers.

  Another mistake, Henry, which I hope you will not make, is that oftaking very small children to travel. Children should remain at homeuntil they are at least two or three days old, otherwise they aretroublesome to their parents and also bother the other passengers. Thereought to be a law, too, that would prevent parents from taking largerchildren who should be in the reform school. Some parents seem to thinkthat what their children do is funny, when, instead of humor, it isreally felony. It does not entirely set matters right, for instance,when a child has torn off a gentleman's ear, merely to make the childreturn it to the owner, for you can never put an ear back in its placeafter it has been torn off and stepped on, in such a way as to make itlook the same as it did at first.

  I heard a mother say on the train that her little boy never was quitehimself while traveling, because he wasn't well. She feared it was thechange in the water that made him sick. He had then drank a wholeice-water tank empty, and was waiting impatiently till we got toPittsburg, so that he could drink out of the hydrant.

  Queer people also ride on the elevated trains here in New York. It is asingular experience to a stranger to ride on these cars. It made me illat first, but after awhile I got so mad that I forgot about it. Forinstance, at places like Fourteenth street, and Twenty-third street, andPark Place, there are generally several people who want to get aboard alittle before the passengers get off. Two or three times I was carriedby because the guards wouldn't enforce the rule, and I had a good dealof trouble, till I took an old pair of Mexican spurs out of my trunk andstrapped them on my elbows. After that I could stroll along Broadway, orget off a train when I got ready, and have some comfort.

  The gates on the elevated trains get shet rather suddensometimes, and once they shet in a part of a man, I wastold, and left the rest of him on the outside, so that after a while hefell off over the trestle, because there was more of him on the outsidethan on the inside, and he didn't seem to balance somehow. It was raresport for the guards to watch the man scraping along the side of theroad and sweeping off the right of way.

  One day, when I was on board, there was a crowd at one of the stations,and an old man and a little girl tried to get on. She was looking outfor the old man, and seemed to kind of steer him on the platform. Justas he stepped on the train, the guard shut the gate and left the littlegirl outside. She looked so scart and pitiful, as the train left her,that I'll never forget it to my dying day, and as we left the platform Isaw her wring her poor little hands, and I heard her cry, "Oh, mister,let me go with him. My poor grandpa is blind."

  Sure enough, the old man groped around almost crazy on that swayingtrain, without knowing where he was, and feeling through the empty airfor the gentle hand of the little girl who had been left behind. Two orthree of us took care of the old man and got him off at the nextstation, where we waited till she came; but it was the most touchingthing I ever saw outside of a book.

  Another day the cars were full till you couldn't seem to get even anumbrella into the aisle, I thought, but yet the guards told people tostep along lively, and encouraged them by prodding and pinching tillmost everybody was fighting mad.

  Then a pale girl, with a bundle of sewing in her hand, and a hollowcough that made everybody look that way, got into the aisle. She couldjust barely get hold of the strap, and that was all. She wore a poor,black cotton jersey, and when she reached up so high, the jersey partwould not stay where it belonged, and at the waist seemed to throw offall responsibility. She realized it, and bit her lips, and two red spotscame on her pale face, and the tears came into her eyes, but shecouldn't let go of her bundle, and she couldn't let go of the strap, foralready the train threw her against a soiled man on one side and a toughon the other. It was pitiful enough, so that men who had their seatsbegan to read advertisements and other things with their papers wrongside up, in order to seem thoroughly engrossed in their business.

  But two pretty young men, with real good clothes, and white, soft hands,had a great deal of fun over it, and every time the train would lurchand throw the poor girl's jersey a little more out of plumb, they wouldjab each other in the ribs, and laugh very hearty. I felt sorry that Iwasn't young again, so that I could go over there and kick both ofthem. Henry, if I thought you would do a thing like that, or allow itdone on the same block where you happened to be, I would give my estateto a charitable object, and refuse to recognize you in Paradise.

  Just then an oldish man of a chunky build, and with an eye as black asthe driven tomcat, reached through the crowded aisle with his umbrellaand touched the girl. She looked around, and he told her to come andtake his seat. As she squeezed through, and he rose to seat her, a largeman with black whiskers gently dropped into the vacant seat with a sighof relief, and began to read a two-year-old paper with much earnestness,just as if he hadn't noticed the whole performance. The stout man wasthunderstruck. He said:

  "Excuse me, sir; I didn't leave my seat."

  "Yes, you did," says the black-whiskered pachyderm. "You can't expect tokeep a seat here and leave it too."

  "Well, but I rose to put this young lady in it, and I must ask you to bekind enough to let her have it."

  "Excuse me," said the microbe, with a little chuckle of cussedness,"you will have to take your chances, and wait for a vacant seat, same asI did."

  That was all the conversation there was, but just then the short fat manran his thumb down inside the shirt collar of the yellow fever germ, andjerked him so high that I could see the nails on the bottoms of hisboots. Then, with the other hand, he socked the young lady into hisseat, and took hold of a strap, where he hung on white and mad, butvictorious.
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br />   After that there was a loud hurrah, and general enthusiasm and handclapping, and cries of "Good!" "Good!" and in the midst of it thesporadic hog and the two refined young men got off the train.

  As the black and white Poland swine went out the door I noticed thatthere was blood on the back of his neck, and later on I saw the short,stout old gentleman remove a large mole or birthmark, which he reallyhad no use for, from under his thumb nail.

  On a Harlem train, as they call it, I saw a drunken young man in one ofthe seats yesterday. He wasn't noisy, but he felt pretty fair. Next tohim was a real good young man, who seemed to feel his superiority agreat deal. Very soon the car got jammed full, and an old lady, poorlydressed, but a mighty good, motherly old woman, I'll bet a hundreddollars, got in. Her husband asked the good young man if he would kindlygive his wife a seat. He did not apparently hear at all, but got allwrapped up in his paper, just as every man in a car does when he isashamed of himself. But the inebriated young man heard, and so he said:

  "Here, mister, take my seat for the old lady; any seat is good enoughfor me." Whereupon he sat down in the lap of the good young man, and soremained till he got to his station.

  This is a good town to study human nature in, Henry, and you would dowell to come here before your vacation is over, just to see what kind ofpeople the Lord allows to encumber the earth. It will show you how manyhuman brutes there are loose in the world who don't try any longer toappear decent when they think their identity is swallowed up in themultitude of a great city. There are just as selfish folks in thesmaller towns, but they are afraid to give themselves up to it, becausesomebody in the crowd would be sure to recognize them. Here a man hasthe advantage of a perpetual _nom de plume_, and he is tempted to seehow pusillanimous he can be even when he is just here on a visit. I'mgoing home next week, before I completely wreck my immortal soul.

  I left your mother pretty comfortable at home, but I haven't heard fromher since I left.

  Your father,

  BILL NYE.