After I had been stepped on, sat on, clawed at and scowled at for twenty minutes, I began to discuss myself to myself.
"Peter," I whispered, "do you really think that the general public appreciates your efforts to keep the Harbor open?"
And then myself replied to myself with a sigh of exhaustion, "I don't think!"
"Peter," I said to myself, "no matter what your motives may be the other fellow will always believe you are trying to get the best of it. If you move over and give the end seat to another gentleman he will consider it only what is his right. If you don't move over he will think you are a Hog for keeping that which is as much yours as his."
I began to grow confidential with myself.
"Civilization is a fine idea, but Human Nature can give it cards and spades and then beat it out!" I told myself. "The Human Hog was invented long before the open-face street car began to stop for him, and there isn't anybody living who should stop to throw stones at him, because selfishness is like the measles, it breaks out in unexpected places. All of us may not be Hogs, but there is a moment in the life of every man when he gets near enough to it to be called a Ham Sandwich."
Just then the Disinfecti Brothers, Microbeini and Germicide, walked over me backward and I had a short but exciting visit to the slums.
Since that eventful day I have moved over 36 times, and out of the 36 people I gave the end seat to all but three of them belonged to the Mucilage Family, and stayed there.
Thereafter I made myself a severe promise not to worry any more about my Hog qualifications when movable or immovable on an open-face car.
I will do as my conscience dictates and walk downtown as much as possible.