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!”