LOVE IN A STREET-CAR.
A Baltimore writer narrates the following amusing incident:
Having business that required my attention in the northwestern section of the city until a late hour, I, at half-past eleven o’clock, found myself seated in a Madison Avenue car. At the crossing of Franklin and Eutaw Streets a young couple entered the car, and occupied a seat in the corner opposite myself. Being a great admirer of the fair sex, I stole a glance at the lady, and was recompensed by beholding a very handsome young miss, with black hair and eyes,—the latter appearing as if Cupid had rented the premises and was determined to dispute the sway of man. Her companion was a biped attired in a new suit of Harrison Street store clothes, as gay as a peacock. The first thing he did after seating himself was to encircle the neck of the lady with his left arm, while his right hand lovingly grasped her left. Not being used to such scenes (being a bachelor), I kept my t’other eye open, and noted down the proceedings in my mind.
“Clara,” began the passionate lover, “ain’t this nice? I swon, it’s a good deal better’n ridin’ in the old wagin!”
“Yes, Josh,” feebly articulated Clara. “But don’t hug me so; the folks are lookin’ at us.”
“Well, let ’em look!” retorted Josh. “Guess they’d like tu be in my place a spell, ennyhow!” (I, for one, did most heartily envy him the position.)
“Yes; but, Josh, you know they will laugh at us,” meekly rejoined his companion.
“Let ’em laugh!” exclaimed the irate lover. “Don’t I love you, and don’t you love me, and ain’t we a-goin’ to git married to-morrer?”
Josh at this moment appeared as though a brilliant idea had struck him, for he suddenly bent over and kissed his fair companion squarely in the mouth.
“There!” said he, exultingly; “ain’t that nice? You don’t allers git them sort!” Then, turning to the occupants of the car, he exclaimed, “Strangers, me and this young woman have come down from the country to git married. She is a nice gal, and I’m a-goin’ to do the right thing by her!”
During the delivery of this concise speech, Clara’s face was suffused with blushes; noticing which, her ardent lover remarked, “Don’t git so all-fired red about the gills, Clara. You know that we are a-goin’ to be married; and what’s the use to fluster up so?”
This last speech settled the business of the passengers. They gave one shout, and relieved themselves of a charge of laughter that had almost strangled them. At the next corner I vacated the car, leaving the happy couple as contented as if the future denoted nothing but sunshine.
