The evening light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1881-1883, 1882-01-16

The Passenger Agents Primer.
From the Cincinnati Enquirer.
Who is this pompous-looking man 2
He is Passenger Agent. He is very
like a lawyer. for he gets his living by
telling lies about every body's road,
his own included. He can build more
roads, and regulate their policy better
lin his mind than either Jay Gould or
Vanderbilt. Does he eat doughnuts
for breakfast and crackers for dinner
to save money for the companya Oh,
no, my dear. The company pays for
a square meal, just the same; but he
has the dyspepsia from reading of the
high living in his expense account. He
works for the "best railroad in the
country" He always does. There is
no other road that runs through such a
peculiar climate. In winter there is a
great deal of verdancy on his line, but
it is mostly in the passenger cars, and
in midsummer, when passengers by
other lines are broiling in the heat and
sufocated by dust, his passengers are
comfortably lolling back in cushioned
seats, with light overcoats on. His
road is stone ballast, steel rails, patent
couplers and buffers, runs all the
way in the shade, conductors
and brakesmen eagerly watch
ing for chance to hold crying baby
or bring a glass of water to good
looking lady, and when the train
reaches its destination, instead of hur-
rying back to get home, they wait
around until the passengers are all be-
slowed safely away in buses, car
riages, or other trains. Other roads
may claim to do this, But it is not so !;
his is the only line. Ask him and he
will tell you so. What is that scar on
his cheek! 1t was where he was
wounded in the service of his COM
pany. He was lacking up a card
Showing an enlightened public the
advantages of his line), and in his
hurry to get the card up he threw the
hammer back too far, and it struck him
on the cheek, knocking off that piece.
Did it dent the hammer? I think not,
my child, as they make these hammers
extra hard. If you should buy ticket
from him, and find that you had to
change cars about IA times more than
he had told you about, don't swear at
him when you get back. Just 60 up
to him and tell him you are going out
again, but don't like his line. He will
explain it all, and if you enjoy good
romance you will get it. 1t would be
nice to be a passenger-agent if you did
not have to tell the truth at all times.
Oonstantinople. 81
Constantinople is one of the most
beautiful cities in the world; it is the
"psradisiacal city" of eastern nations.
AS we approach the entrance of the
Golden Horn, seated in a caique more
graceful than the gondolas of Venice,
the vast and varied panorama around
us changes with every stroke of the
cars. Beyond the white walls of the
Seragio and its masses of verdure,
arise, alphabetically, one the seven
hills of the peninsuls, the houses of
Stamboul-its towers, the vast domes
of its mosques, with their circlet of
smaller domes, and its elegant nina
rets, with their balconies. On the other
side of the haven, which is crossed by
bridges of boats, there are more
mosques and towers, seen through
forest of masts and rigging, and cover
ing the slope of a hill, whose summit
is crowned by regularly-built houses
and the palatial residences of Pera.
On the north, vast villa cities ex-
tend along both shores of the Bos-
phorus. Towards the east, on a pro-
montory of Asia, there is still another
city, Graded amongst gardens and
trees. This is Scutari, the Asiatic
suburb of Constantinople, with its pink
houses and vast cemetery, shaded by
beautiful cypress groves. Farther in
the distance we perceive Kadi-koei, the
ancient Chalcedon, and the small town
of Prinkipo, one of the Princes islands,
whose yellow rocks and verdant groves
are reflected in the blue waters of the
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