The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1889-11-09
a BITTER MISANTHROPE.
Railway Adventures Which Have Mad,
Genial Bob Burdette Morose.


Genial Bob Burdette Morose.
People who have met me on the train
say that am of all mon most morose,
unsociable and accommodating; that 1
never offer to open window for any
one, never close the door after the
brakeman has gone out and taken the
end of the car and crashing noise with
him, never offer to turn seat for two
ladies' who wish to monopolize four
sittings with trip pass and scalper
ticket; never, in short, offer any OF
those little attentions to my fellow
travellers which the fresh young man
and the simple old one are so ready
and so glad to extend. l plead guilty.
Inever do. will do any thing am
asked to do, if l have time, and feel
Just like it, and there seems to be no
good reason why 1 shouldn't, but l
won't volunteer to do any thing on the
train. used to, some; l am older
now, and know so much less than
formerly that both my neighbors of the
road and myself get along much more
comfortably. Years and years ago l
one day picked up shawl which fell
from a lady's lap into the aisle of the
car. AS picked it up such miscel-
laneous assortment of articles, mostly
II an edible nature, fell out of that
>ssfifssss,rl that was paralyzed with amaze
tnent, and nothing but the lurid Ian
guage of the owner brought about
the reaction that was necessary to
save my life. For the largest fee
l ever was paid, never afforded
car full OF people so much amuse-
ment as I did for nothing by that little
act of kindness. With the exception
of the lady whose sha WI the lunch
basket was, and myself, | think every
body in the Car was pleased. And
passengers in the other cars. all the
way from the smoker, and the sleepers
hearing the sounds of mirth came into
our car and asked about it. And the
people who had the loudest and clear
est voices told the incident, referring
to me as THAT man" or to avoid tautol-
ogy, as the story had to be repeated
many times in the course of 145 miles,
that fellow" or 'that chap" or
that man sittin' there" | sawed
wood very conscientiously for long
time after that, but on another evil
day entertained another travelling
audience by Juggling at car window
which had never been opened since the
car was built. wore porous plaster
on the plinth of my spinal column for
a couple of weeks, and reformed again.
burned tie old resolutions on the
tablets of memory, and engraved them
with pen of iron on my heart. also
made up my mind that l would en-
deavor to remember them.
Well, a week or two since l was
laundering along through the miles of
exquisite landscape gardening that
mark the suburbs of Philadelphia. A
young gentleman sitting just in front
Of me left the train at local station,
and just as we started again, half
dozen excited female voices shrilled
out upon the startled air: "Oh! Oh!
oh! That-young- man has-left-his-um-
brella! Oh! NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS.!
Call-him-quick a! Oh-throw-it-out-to
him do-do- do throw that young man.
his-umbrella! And as they pointed at
the young man and shrieked at me, l
hastily raised the window, the powers
of darkness assisting me, yelled at the
young man, hurled the umbrella at
him like a javelin, and we were gone.
In about two minutes young man
two stories and a mansard taller than
any member Of my whole family, came
down the aisle of that car with dark
ened brow, and looked long and earn
estly into the vacant seat whence l had
just fired silk umbrella with ham,
mered silver head. He looked under
the seat and then he looked into the
rack. Then he looked at me. didn't
look up, but l felt his eyes go clear
through me, as gazed fixedly out Of
the window and tried hard to think of
the form of prayer to be used for a
man who expects to spend the rest of
the winter in the hospital. Before
l could remember it the athletic
looking stranger said kindly, but very
firmly: 81 left an umbrella in this seat
a few minutes ago." For one moment
the ghastilest silence you ever heard
settled down on that car, and then
those shrieking women giggled, as
though it was light thing to die when
you had return ticket in your pocket
that would be wasted. 1 tried to tell
the stranger that the young man who
was sitting in the seat took it with him,
but 1 thought that had done enough
wiGxedness and folly for one trip. I
owned up and told him the truth. He
was magnanimous man, and he
spared me. But it was moment of
agony. and to-day there are white
hairs on the back of my head that |
never saw before, and l never pass
through Merton station without a