DANGEROUS LUGGAGE.
Complaints are sometimes made of the want of due respect paid on the part of porters to passengers’ luggage. It appears that occasionally a like lack of caution is manifested by owners to their own property. It is said that on a train
lately on a western railway in America, some passengers were discussing the carriage of explosives. One man contended that it was impossible to prevent or detect this; if people were not allowed to ship nitro-glycerine or dynamite legitimately, they’d smuggle it through their baggage. This assertion was contradicted emphatically, and the passenger was laughed at, flouted, and ignominiously put to scorn. Rising up in his wrath, he produced a capacious valise from under the seat, and, slapping it emphatically on the cover, said, “Oh, you think they don’t, eh? Don’t carry explosives in cars? What’s this?” and he gave the valise a resounding thump, “Thar’s two hundred good dynamite cartridges in that air valise; sixty pounds of deadly material; enough to blow this yar train and the whole township from Cook County to Chimborazo. Thar’s dynamite enough,” he continued; but he was without an auditor, for the passengers had fled incontinently, and he could have sat down upon twenty-two seats if he had wanted to. And the respectful way in which the baggage men on the out-going trains in the evening handled the trunks and valises was pleasant to see.
The neglect of carefulness appears, in one instance at least, to have involved inconvenience to the offending official. “An unknown genius,” says an American periodical, “the other day entrusted a trunk, with a hive of bees in it, to the tender mercies of a Syracuse ‘baggage-smasher.’ The company will pay for the bees, and the doctor thinks his patient will be round in a fortnight or so.”
—Williams’s Our Iron Roads.