The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1875-02-12
Il CONDUCTOR'S sTORY.
BY Os.IS GREY.

street car conductors, and there isn't
much We get used to our business
very soon, and don't often pay any at
tentlon to oui passengers; rardly look
at them when they get on or off. But
once in while it is different, and |
expect that | could tell you a story
that would sound about as well as the
stories you see in the papers. And l
know it is true, too, because it hap
pened to me.
You say you want to hear it? Very
well, if you amt in hurry, for it's
quite long yarn.
| was about twenty-three years old
when | went to New y ork to get a
place on the street cars. | suppose
some folks thought that it was sort Of
come down for me to do, for my
father was q well-tO-do doctor in a
county village, but | didn't care about
books or being shut up in store or
office. / always liked to be outdoors
and see people, and | think that any
honest business is respectable enough,
if you make it so by being respectable
yourself | got a place right away on
one of the Second avenue cars, and
stayed right along for more than three
years. ] soon got used to the business,
and left people come and 90 without
giving anybody a second thought In
the meantime my father died, and
mother came to live with me. Shehad
enough, so that witt. my salary we
lived very comfortably indeed. My
two sisters were well married, and we
had as lit5le to bother us as most folks.
My car started from the city hall at
six o'clock in the morning | came to
know pretty well the faces that went
with me at that time in the morn
ing. They were seamstresscs and
clerks, and workmen of all sorts many
OF them came over from Brooklyn.
One dreary, drizzly morning in \ O.
vembeT, | was just about starting for
up town, when a young g,d came hur-
Tying up. The car was crowded ard
she had to stand / asked her for her
fare, and she gave me three-cent
piece If it had not been for that
don't suppose | should have looked at
her a second time. We have such
tricks played on us very often, and
suppose | spoke very cross, and told
her she gave me a three-cent piece
She looked up in frightened way as
she gave me the right change. | could
not help seeing that she was unusually
pretty, and very pale. She couldn't
be more than sixteen years old, and
had childish kind of a look in her
big, brown eyes, that | could not for
get. | looked at her two Or three
times, hoping that she would look up
again. but she wouldn't. | saw she
was comfortably enough dressed. She
got out at the corner of Sixteenth
street and went up rapidly toward
Union Square
| didn't know what was the matter
but all day | could not forget her face
with its scared look, as she gave me the
right money, and | puzzled my head a
good deal about what she was | had
come to make pretty good guesses,
and | was quite sure she wasn't clerk
or seamstress, and she seemed too
young for a teacher. Besides it was
too early for & teacher to be going up
town.
| laughed at myself well, and called
myself a fool dozen times that day.
Whats little pale chit of girl, that
you will likely never see again. to
YOU" | said to myself, but | couldn't
tell any more than | could help breath
ing.
At six o'clock [ went down, and /
could not help watching Sixteenth
street, as / went by and, sure enough.
chn laa = l. IL
! change this time, and did not look at
me again. At City Hall she got out
and went on down Park Row
1t was more than a week before I
saw her again If she went up and
down she went on some other car; but
at the end of that time she went up in
my car. | was worse off than ever
after that, she looked so pretty that
morning and again at night she rode
down with me-
After that / lost sight of her for a
long while, and it bothered me, | can
tell you. | grew so cross and moody
that mother did not know what to do
with me, for when man has got to be
twenty-five years old without being bit,
it goes pretty hard with him when it
does come, and | was about ready to
confess that was in love, that is, to
myself But what could do about it?
| began to get restless and think of
leaving the line, when one dark, rainy
evening in February my heart gave a
great jump as looked out at Sixteenth
street. | always looked out when we
passed there. She was coming, sure
enough, but with a heavy veil over her
face As she stepped on the platform
OF the car her foot slipped, and if had
not caught her she would have had a
hard fall as it was she sprained her
foot enough to make her cry out lit
tie, but | heard her. As she couldn't
step down finn, helped her to seas.
Fortunately there was only one other
passenger an old woman with a has