Year: 1875

My name is John Holton. I am
verging on forty, am single, and
intend to remain so. l add this lat
ter clause to prevent any old maid who
may see my name in the paper from
writing to or sending me her photo
graph.


If there is anything on earth that
l particularly despise, it is carpet
bags.


had rather wear a dirty shirt a
fortnight, and button my vest to my
throat to conceal the absence of Il
collar than carry one of those nuisan-
ces.


They are always in the way. A
man looks like porter carrying one,
and every body glances in his di-
rection with sort of high-bred
contempt fancying him peddler or
scissors grinder. Pretty girls draw
away to let him pass, and old ladies
eye him suspiciously, and inform
their neighbors that they have known
smallpox to be carried in carpet
bags.


In omnibusses it is always flying
out of your hands on to the toes Of
your Wis a Wis; in railway stations
you are afraid to put it down a mo-
ment less some one should appro-
pirate it; and in a railway carriage
it is perfectly intolerable. Ifyou put
it ON your seat somebody will be sure
to want that very seat; if you lay it
on the floor somebody will tread on
it, smash your bottle of hair dye, and
condemn you to look ten years older
than usual for the next ten days; if
you hang it up, some man who is
soft enough to wear plug hat, will
strike his head against it, and glance
at you with Il small volcano in his
eyes, and if you wrap it in your
shawl and hold it in your arms, all
the women in the carriage will mis-
take you for widower, carrying a
baby, and will beg to be allowed to
kiss the little darling just once, for
ltS mOtncrS sake.


But to commence with my own
individual experience.


l was sent by the firm with which
| was connected to a distant town
last autumn on business of impor-
tance, which would keep me absent
some eight or ten days.


OF course it was necessary for me
to have a change of clothing, and
there was nothing for it but t o take a
carpet bag.


l set out for the railway, feeling
very much like a culprit, my well
stuffed bag swinging against the legs
of every man encountered, and be-
ing shifted at by the dogs on the
road. l rather suspect they smelled
the bladder of Scotch snuff had re-
GENTLY purchased, and packed in
with my other things for you must
know that my only bad habit is snuff
taking, A very mild sin, I think.


1 had proceeded about half the
distance when a 'buss, pretty heavily
loaded, overlook me. The driver
drew in his horses.


"Ride' sir? Your carpet bag looks
heavy?" "No," 1 growled, ploqdlng
on, conscious that several pair of
feminine eyes regarded me from the
windows.


''Book agent or tract peddler," re-
marked the driver to a man beside
him,


"Got his clean collars in that bag"
said Il squeaking female voice-"I'll
warrant he's going courting.
Looks dreadful sheepish." And the
vehicle whirled away,


l took cross path and reached
the station full five minutes ahead of
it, and had the satisfaction of hearing
one woman say to another, indicat-
ing me with nod of her bonnet:


''There, that fellow with the carpet
bag looks exactly like the chap that
stole my silver spoons when we had
our tea-party. Wish could see the
inside of his valise."


l made a dive for the door of the
first carriage, y young lady was de-
scendlng the steps at the same time,
with bandboX in her hand.


l was in q hurry and did not stop
for ceremony. My carpet-bag went
thump against her bandbox-smashed
in the side of the abomination, and
out rolled a French bonnet, pair of
old boots, puff ball, pink saucer,
a bottle of concentrated muskrat, and
a yellow covered novel.


The lady screamed, the guard
growled at me, and l made the best
Of my way into the carriage.


put my carpet-bag on the seat be-
side me, and I employed myself by
looking out of the window. At the
next station fat lady, radiant in