The Fairmont West Virginian. (Fairmont, W. Va.) 1904-1914, 1912-04-09
. CHAPTER n.
The Early Rlfds and the Worm.

Il
cars, as II a gigantic young CULVER
stabbed his toys there and inVistbly
amused himself; now whisking this.
one away. now. backing that other in.
Some Of the trains were noble equip
ages. fitted to glide across the whole
map with cargoes OF Lilliputlan mil
llonaires and their LiIliputian ladies'.
others were humble and shabby
linked.up daycoaches and dingy
smoking.cars, packed with workers,
like ants.
Cars are mere vehicles. but lccomo-
tiyes have souls. The express en-
gines roll in or stalk out with gran:
deur and ease. They are like em-
perors. They seem to look with scorn
at the suburban engines snorting and
gruntIng and shaking the arched
root with their plebeian choochoo as
they puff from shop to cottage and
back
The trainmen take their cue from
the behavior OF theil locomotives. The
conductor of a transcontinental mods
to the conductor of shuttle.tratn
with less cordially than to brake
man of his own. The engineers OF
the limiteds look like senators in
oYeralls, They are far-traveled men.
leading mighty life of adventure.
They are pilots of land-ships across
land.oceans. They have right to a
certain condescension Of manner,
But no one feels or shows so much
arrogance as the sleeping car porters.
They cannot pronounce "superctIi-
ous," but they can be it. Their dis
dain for the entire crew of any train
that carries merely day-coaches or
half-baked chaircars, is expressed as
only a darkey in a uniform can ex-
press disdain for poor white trash.
OF all the naughty porters that ever
curled a lip, the haughtiest by far
was the dusky attendant in the San
Francisco sleeper on the Trans.Amer-
ican Limited. His was the train OF
trains in that whole system. His car
the car of cars. His passengers the
surpassengers Of all.
His train stood now waiting to set
forth upon a voyage OF two thousand
miles, a journey across seven imperial
states, a journey that should end only
at that marge where the continent
dips and vanishes under the breakers
OF the Pacific ocean.
At the head Of his car, with his lit
tie box.step waiting for the foot OF
| the first arrival, the porter stood, his
head swelling under his cap, his
breast swelling beneath his blue
blouse, with Its brass buttons like
reflections of bis own eyes. His name
was Ellsworth Jefferson, but be was
called anything from "Poarr.tnrr" to
"Pawtah," and he usually did not
come when he was called.
Tonight he was wondering perhaps
what passengers, with what disposi.
tons, would fall to his lot. Perhaps
he was wondering what his Chicago
sweetheart would be doing In the
eight days before his return, Per
haps he was wondering what his San
Francisco sweetheart had been doing
In the five days since he left her, and
how she would pass the three days
that must intervene before he
reached her again.
He had Othello's ebon color. Did
he have Othello's green eye?
Whatever his thoughts, he chatted
gaily enough with his neighbor and
colleague of the Portland sleeper.
Suddenly he stopped in the midst
OF a soaring chuckIe.
"Lordy, man, looky what's acorn
In"
The Portland porter turned to gaze
81 got my fingers crossed"
81 hope you git him."
II hope l don't"
Hell work you hard and Cuss you
out, and he won't give you even
Much Obliged"
That's right, He amt got usher
to carry his things. And he's got
enough to fill van"
The oncomer was plainly Of Eng
fish origin. 1t takes all sorts Of PEG
pie to make up the British Empire
and there is no sort Neutrality-suspicious.
or pretty, or sour or sweet. But this
was the type Of English globe.trottel
that makes himself as unpopular
among foreigners as he is among his
own people. He Is almost as unen
durable as the Americans abroad who
twang their banjo brag through Eu
rope, and berate France and Italy fol
their innocence of buckwheat cakes.
The two porters regarded Mr.. Har
old Wedgewood with dread, as he
bore down on them. He was almost
lost in the plethora off his own lug
gage. He asked for the San Fran
cisco sleeper, and the Portland porter
had to turn away to smother his CUR
Cling relief.
Ellsworth JeRerson's heart sank
lie made a feeble effort at seIf.pro
lection. The Pullman conductor MOI
being present at the moment, he in
| CURED:
Have you got yo' ticket?"
"Of cawse."
Gould see it,"
"of cawse not. Too much trouble