We ought to have our ticket ready when the conductor comes around, and not keep him waiting while we hunt for it in bag or pocket.
If a brakeman raises a window or shuts a door for us, we should thank him; and it is polite to thank the train boy who passes us water. We need not be ill-natured because he puts a magazine or prize package in our lap every half-hour. It is not an uncivil thing to do, and it is just as easy for us to receive it civilly, and say in a pleasant tone that we do not care for it, as to add one more snappish answer to the many given him in the course of a day.
We should be watchful of occasions to show politeness to our fellow-travellers. There may be an old lady not accustomed to travelling, anxious and uneasy, to whom we can be of use. We can ask where she is going, and take the burden off her mind by saying, "I will tell you when we come to it."
A gentlemanly boy will not see a lady trying to open or shut a window or reverse a seat without offering to do it for her, any more than a gentleman would.
We should be patient in answering questions, especially from old people. If we are passing objects of interest with which we are familiar, it is polite to speak of them to a stranger sitting near. If we were journeying in the White Mountain region and were well acquainted with it, a stranger by our side would like to know the names of the different peaks, and to have the historic Willey House pointed out to him. One cheerful, obliging person will add to the comfort of the whole company.
If delays occur on the way, and long periods of waiting, as often happen, we should be patient and cheerful over the matter ourselves, and thus help others to be so. Good-nature is contagious at such times. It is of no use to tire the conductor and brakemen with repeated questions: they are rarely responsible for the delay, which is more vexatious to them than to us.
Places for refreshment on a journey, with the brief time usually allowed, afford opportunities to show one's good or ill breeding. It would be better to have no lunch than to struggle for the best place and loudly demand attention, to the exclusion of others. To bring a cup of tea to an old lady, or to the mother who cannot leave her baby to get it herself, is a slight thing for us to do, but it may be a great favor to them.
In an article on the politeness of French children as compared with boys and girls in America, the writer illustrates what he is saying in this way:—
"I was travelling in a compartment with a little French boy of twelve, the age at which American children, as a rule, deserve killing for their rudeness and general disagreeableness. I sat between him and the open window, and he was eating pears. Now most boys in our country of that age would either have dropped the cores upon the floor or tossed them out of the window, without regard to anybody. But this small gentleman, every time, with a 'Permit me, sir,' said in the most pleasant way, rose and came to the window and dropped them out, and then with a 'Thanks, sir,' quietly took his seat. French children do not take favors as a matter of course and unacknowledged. And when in his seat, if an elderly person came in, he was the very first to rise and offer his place, if it were in the slightest degree more comfortable than another; and the good-nature with which he insisted on the new-comer's taking it was delightful to see."
The writer goes on to say that this was not an exceptional boy, but a fair type of the average French child, and his conduct was a sample of what might be seen anywhere, even among the ragged boys of the street. The reason for this state of things is given in the opening sentences of the article:—