The daily morning journal and courier., 1903-05-23

 up. We was always invited in, too, an had our fill; though as for me, never was much of hand for drinkin'; just a little goes a long way.
 Now the mourners just rides to the grave an pays off the carriages there: or if they rides back to the city they don't go near the tavern. As I said, don't have no prejudices, an these new ways may be all right, but they don't seem hospitable like. It don't seem re- -spectful to the dead to go away with out drinkin' their health. I started hackin' in Manhattan when was sixteen years of age, a raw Irish lad only a week landed from Ireland. was standin' in City Hall square in the afternoon wonderin' if would ever get work. when a hackman spoke up to me an asked me if I knew about horses.
 Sure" said I, q was brought mp in a stable"
 Come with me-" says he; ''the boss wants men,"
 ''He brung me to livery stable in Center street. near the Tombs prison, an in half an hour I was drivin' a hack for $1.5O day an all I could make over in tips. At the end of g. week the boss changed the arrange ment so that I had to turn in five dol lars a day to him an could keep all over that that had made. I didn't know a street in the city at first, but New York is soon learned. In two weeks I thought I knowed the whole thing-all about hackin'-but l was wrong. I've been thirty-five years at the business now an I know I ain't learned it all.
 That's why the trollies can't never run the hacks out of business-hackin' is an art.
 On the trolly car all the passengers is treated alike: but in hackin' man has to study his fare an treat each party accordin'.
 Supposin' handsome young couple gets in an tells you to drive about for an hour or two. You don't want to run 'em through no crowded places. No, you wants to drive 'em fair an easy through the quiet streets to the park, pickin' the smoothest track an never lookin back at 'em.
 Don't never let on that you see roth- in. The dummy cabman is the one that wins out. Those young people don't want to be disturbed, nor to be looked at When the drive is over, if you've done the right thing by them, the man will do the right thing by you.
 I don't never raise disturbance be- fore a lady. No gent would do such a thing. If man has made hard bar gain with me, say to take him and his lady to Coney Island for six dollars, don't make no outcry, but just quietly drives 'em down there. Then when wes there I takes the man aside an says I: Please pay me now, fer I've got to feed my horses" He gives me the money, an then says: You've made hard bargain with me, an I've got my money. Now I'm goin' back to the city unless you pay some more. can pick up fare here, but don't want to be hard on you. It'll be three dollars for to take you back" Then says he: "Bpa you agreed to drive us down an back for six dollars" "
 Speak easy,' says I, there's lady might hear you. What you've give me is my legal fare. the mileage that I'm entitled to. Here's a policeman ocer here. Let's leave the matter to him, an what he says goes.'
 That generally settles it, fer it's pretty mean man that will have a dispute about money while he has a lady with him.
 Now some cabmen as is not gents de- lights fer to make rows before ladies, because they don't know their business. There's no money into it. Treat all people right, says I, fer in the long run it pays. You may lose a dollar to- day, but it'll come back tomorrow. That's what tells my son. who's driv- in hack fer me now. There's some millionaires I know that's as close as If they ain't got a dollar, but I always keep a civil tongue to 'em, and don't lose nothin' by it.
 Don't say nothin' but watch your people an treat lem accordin'. Them's my motto.
 A stout dark man took my carriage at the Bridge entrance one evening about three months ago, an told me to drive him to Central park. When we got up there he stepped out an, walk in up to tree, put rope around a limb.
 Whats this?" says I. "Oh," says he, I'm tired of Twin, an I'm goin' to hang myself Without payin' your fare?" says l. "I have no money" says he. "No fare, no suicide" says I; an I took the rope an put the man in the carriage an drove him to police sta tion.. It turned out that he was a man of wealth, with family trouble on his mind-an' he was goin' without payin' his fare. Sure there's all sorts of queer 1 people in the world.
 One night man stopped me in Park Row an told me to drive him to the | house of big doctor up in Sixty-sec- ond street. When we got to the door the man got out, an says he to me, I'm | goin' to kill this doctor, an then we'll drive to One Hundred and Twenty sixth street, where there's another doc- tor I must kill, an there are others af- | ter that"
 l Says I: "Yes, sir. How long will | you want the carriage altogether, sir?" I Maybe the rest of the night" says he.