The record-union., 1896-06-21
LOOKED MEEK, BUT WASN'T.
How Old Mr.. Graybeard Punished an
Insulting Ruffian.

A grey bearded man who appeared TO
be at least 65 years old stepped into an
uptown Sixth avenue Il" train at
Eighth street the other day, says the
New York Herald Taking a seat near
the door, he adjusted his eyeglasses,
unfolded a newspaper and began to
read. The car was we'll filled, the ma
jority of the passengers being women.
Say, wot der yer want-all er der
seats?"
1t was brawny fellow next to the
gray bearded man who put this question
and there wasn't one in the car who
didn't hear it. Every one looked. Mr..
Graybeard smiled and replied good
naturedly:
my friend, I beg your pardon. l
didn't mean to crowd you"
Then he went on reading his paper,
drawing his arms closer to his side His
neighbor, however, was not amiable. He
was tough" There was ''scrappy"
look in his eyes as he turned and looked
his neighbor full in the face.
People like you dat wants de cart
ought ter travel in a private car" he
sneered. Mr.. Graybeard did not seem
to regard this as an allusion to himself,
"Mebbe ye're der president o. der
road"
Up jumped Mr. Graybeard, not to at
tack his tormenter, but to take a seat on
the other side of the car Now" he
said, II hope you've got plenty of room -
The tough man made another insult
ing and threatening remark.
Surely these men will not allow that
brute to strike that inoffensve old man. -
said a motherly looking woman. The
men were all deeply interested in their
newspapers or closely studying the signs
to be seen through the car windows,
all except one athletic-looking young
man, who held onto a strap not many
yards away from Mr.. Graybeard and Mr.
Tough. He looked significantly at the
woman and she returned glance that
was full of gratitude.
Mr.. Tough leaned forward in his seat.
shot out his arm, and, pointing a huge
index finnger at Mr.. Graybeard, cried:
Say, I'm a-gittin' out at Twenty
third street, an if yer want ter make
anything out er dis all yer got ter do
is ter git off wild me. I'll wipe de street
wild yer if yer git off,
When the guard slammed back the
door and called out the station Mr.
Tough arose. and, snatching the paper
| from Mr.. Graybeard's hands, he said
"D-d If / don't t'ump yer now,
| yer"
| The rest of what he said was drowned
| in chorus Of feminine shrieks. The
| train was at a standstill, and the ath-
| lctic looking young man, his cheeks
ablaze, was making his way toward
Mr.. Tough, when up popped Mr. Gray
| beard like a jack-in- the-box, out shot
| his right fist; it hit something and up
| against the end of the car went Mr..
| Tough. The guard grabbed him and
| yanked him out on the platform Mr..
| Graybeard was after him in an instant
Biff. bang. biff. biff! The blows fell
! fast and furious. Each one landed in
a place and in manner that did not
add to Mr.. Tougn's beauty. That terri
BILE person was SO shocked by this sud-
den display of ungentlemanly conduct
| that he did not even raise his hands
| in protest. Behind was the athletic
| looking fellow, dancing up and down
and shouting:
"Give it to him, old man. That was a
dandy! Soak him again!"
| And Mr.. Graybeard never failed to
follow the young mans advice Final
| ly two guards got between Mr. Gray
beard and Mr.. Tough.
| ''The train is late" said one guard,
apologetically "If you want to give
him some more, get off here
81 guess he's got enough" said Mr.
Craybeard, walking back into the car.
| Mr. Tough looked panied. His enor-
nous hands were covered with blood
| he wiped from his face, and his hat was
| in the street. He offered no resistance
as the guards pushed him off the car.
| Mr.. Graybeard sat down and resumed
| the reading of his paper. The athletic
| looking young man looked at him ad-
miringly, and so did the woman. He
folded his paper at Forty second street
| and left the train.