Mexico Missouri message., 1912-05-30

lionaires and their Lilllputian ladies'. |
Others were humble and shabby |
linked-uo day-coaches and dingy |
smobingcars, packed with workers., |
like ants.
Cars are mere vehicles, but locomo- |
tives have souls. The express en-.
gines roll in or stalk out with gran
deur and ease. They are like EN-.
perors. They seem 20 look with scorn
at the suburban engines snorting and
grunting and shaking the arched
roof with their plebeian choo-choo as
they puff from shop to cottage and
back.
The trainmen take their cue from
the behavior of theit locomotives. The
conductor Of transcontinental mods
to the conductor OF shuttle-train
with less cordially than to a brake
man of his own. The engineers OF
the limiteds look like senators IN
overalls. They are far-traveled men,
leading a 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 "supercilt
GUS" but they can be 1t. Their dis
dain for the entire crew of any train
that carries merely day-coaches or
half.baked chair-cars, is expressed as
only a darkey in 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
|
breast swelling beneath his blue
blouse, with its brass buttons like
reflections Of his own eyes. His name
was Ellsworth Jefferson, but he was
called anything from "Poarr-turr" to
"Pawtah," and he usually did not
come when he was called.
Tonight he was wondering perhaps
what passengers, with what disposi-
tions, 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 Othellos ebon color. Did
he have Othellos green eyer
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 chuckle.
"Lordy, man, looky what's aeon
in"
The Portland porter turned to gaze
81 got my fingers crossed"
Il hope you git him."
81 hope / don't"
He'll work you hard and cuss you
out, and he won't give you even 9
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
lish 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 thii
was the type of English globe-trotte
that makes himself as unpopular
among foreigners as he is among hi
own people. He is almost as unen
durable as the Americans abroad Wit
twang their banjo brag through Eu
rope, and berate France and Italy 70
their innocence of buckwheat cakes.
The two porters regarded Mr.. Han
old Wedgewood with dread, as b.
bore down on them. He was Amos
|
gage. He asked for the San Fran
cisco sleeper, and the Portland porte
had to turn away to smother his gul
Cling relief.
: Ellsworth Jefferson's heart sant
3 He made a feeble effort at self-prc
a lection. The Pullman conductor no
n being present at the moment, he IL
8 CURED:
3 Have you got yo' ticket?"
"Of cawse."
Q Gould l see it,"
d "Of cawse not. Too much troubl
l. to fish it out"
g The porter was fading. do 20
J. remember yo' numba?"
a "Of cawse. Take these" He bega
/ to pile things on the porter like