NEXT morning I took an early train for Wheeling, which city I desired to visit on my westward way.

On this occasion, about twelve minutes before the train started, two men came in, and, desiring to sit together and finding no seat wholly vacant, one of them had the incredible, the unparalleled, the unexampled, the unheard-of audacity to ask me to move and sit with another person—a thing I have refused to do even to accommodate a lady. It was not yet quite light in the car, as the sun was not up, and I pointed to my crutch, that stood leaning against the back of the seat in front of me, and stated that I had been badly shot in the knee the previous night, in a saloon difficulty, and that it was impossible for me to move with any sort of comfort or ease. Moreover, I observed, that my uncle was to accompany me on my journey, to take care of me, that he would of course occupy the seat with me, and that he had just gone to a neighboring saloon to get me a glass of ale and hand it in at the window. Otherwise, I said, I should accommodate them by moving to any part of the car they might desire, and take pleasure in it.

Taking all I said for the truth,—and thus making a wholesale mistake—they turned and went to the rear end of the car, where they urgently requested a respectable-looking negro passenger to get up and let them have his seat. But he knew his rights, and, knowing, durst maintain; and he maintained them after this manner:

“Guess not.”

“O, come, now,” argued one of the two passengers; “you might as well. You’ll be just as comfortable some——”

“Well, now, I guess I won’t leab dis yer, by golly!”

“You might have to,” suggested one of the Caucasians.

“Hab to? Like to see de man——”

“For half-a-cent I’d move you!”

The darkey was now very much “riled,” and being, besides, a little drunk, and naturally ill-natured and habitually profane in his language, he railed out thus:

“No, I’ll be (profanity) if you does! (Profanity) my heart, if I jis’ didn’ fight fur dis (profanity) country, and I’ll be (profanity, profanity, profanitied) if I ain’t as good as any oder (profanity) man! I know what my rights is! I does! I’ll be (profanity, profanitied) if I don’t! (Profanity, profanity, profanity, profanity)——”

“Look here!” exclaimed the conductor, who had just entered the car, and was adjusting the bell-cord; “what the (here he made a concise and pointed allusion to a dark personage who wears a tail with a dart on the end of it, and carries off bad boys that won’t mind their mothers and who run off and play base ball when sent to school) do you mean? What are you cursing that way for? Don’t you see there are ladies in the car——”

“Dey wants my seat, and——”

“Well, they havn’t got it, have they? You shall keep your seat, if you want to. No one is going to take it from you! Now, another word out of your black head, and I’ll split it for you, and throw it out of the window, a piece at a time!”

The two troublesome travelers had, meantime, located themselves in separate seats, as near each other as possible; the darkey said no more, and quiet reigned for a moment or so.

Glancing out at my window, which I had raised, I presently saw two Irishmen—both drunk—approaching the car; and one of them was carrying a valise, a fiddle, a hat-box, a saw, a side of leather, an overcoat and an extra pair of boots. He was evidently going on a journey; but the other was in his shirt-sleeves, and had only accompanied him to the train to see him off.

“Good-by, Mike,” said he in his shirt-sleeves. “Take gude care o’ yer-sel.”

“I’ll do that, Zhammie,” said the traveler, who was the drunkest of the two. “When’ll’seeyez’gin, m’b’y?”

“I’ll mate ye’n Whalin’, Mike. Steek till the cause, me boy. Don’t forgit the Fanians an’ yer counthry!”

By this time, a number of the passengers who sat on the same side of the car with me had raised their windows, and were now listening to this dialogue, much amused. The conversation was carried on in loud, harsh tones.

“F’rgit m’ counthry an’ th’ cause? Och! I shud thaink naught,” said the Milesian traveler, who was now about to ascend the steps to the platform of the car I was in.

He paused a moment, before blundering up, and then struck up a patriotic Fenian song, the first verse of which was something like this:

“Good me b’y!” exclaimed his friend, grasping his hand. “Wull done, that! Now, good-by, Mike. Tak care o’ yer-sel!”

“Good-by, till ye, Zhammie. God be good till ye!”

After shaking hands cordially, they parted. He in his shirt-sleeves, James, by name, walked away, with some sadness naturally engendered by the parting; while Michael entered the car and took a seat by the darkey—for all the rest were entirely occupied by this time—his saw, as he sat down, accidentally grazing the darkey’s cheek, and coming within half-an-inch of sawing one of his white eyes out.

“’Scuse me, dairlint,” said Mike; and he deposited his luggage down among both their feet, threw himself carelessly back in his seat, with his cheek resting on his dusky companion’s shoulder, and soon fell asleep.

The pleasant (?) time the conductor had waking him, when he came round for his ticket, might be described with excellent effect, by a professional humorist; but let the reader picture it in his imagination.