PROVOKE THEM INTO A FIGHT.
In this they were successful, and the two poor misguided wretches were soon screaming and clawing like cats on the floor. The men and women, howling and jibbering, formed a ring about this couple of unsexed beings. When the men were fighting the desire of every man in the room was to assist in parting them, but when two members of that sex, who are supposed to arouse in man all that is self-sacrificing and gallant, came to disgrace their claim to womanhood, these wolves not only stood by, but cheered them on to worse and worse shame.
“Come, my men,” said a spectator, thinking to appeal to the better nature of some of the beings present, “stop this disgraceful scene.”
But he was taken hold of and hurled against the wall with oaths. Bound not to witness what he could not remedy he made his way outside with a lower opinion of humanity than ever he had in his life before.
“I tell you,” said a friend the other day after the conclusion of the six days walk, “a man has more endurance than any animal.”
“Yes,” said the spectator of the McQuarry dance, “and he can be more brutal and more ferocious.”
CHAPTER XXI.
DOWN AT THE UNION STATION.
I never could understand what attracts people to the railway station. Go there when you will, morning, noon, or night, there are the same or similar lollers on the waiting-room benches, the careworn women, the crying children, the same sleepy-looking men, not forgetting the half-devoured buns, the rinds of oranges, and the peanut shells which litter the floor. Buns, oranges and peanuts, seem to have many admirers among those who go away in trains. Motion is the law of life, and nowhere does this universal decree of nature find a more striking exposition than at the railway station. I have seen many partings there, many warm handshakes, many tears, as I have seen many joyous meetings. I have seen men depart, with as much baggage as would fill an express wagon, depart amid the cheers of their friends, and I have seen the same men return poor in health and pocket, without a hand to welcome them or a cheery word to make them glad. I have seen men sneak up to the ticket-seller, purchase second-class tickets,