"Any baggage?"
"No."
At that moment there was a rapid clanging of the gong; the motorman let fly the whirling rod; the over full cars started with a jerk—there was a howl, a shout, followed by a struggle to keep the equilibrium; an undersized Canuck was seen to be running madly alongside with one hand on the guard and endeavoring to get a foothold; he was hauled up unceremoniously by a dozen hands. The crowd watching them, cheered and jeered:
"Goin' it some, Antoine! Don't get left!"
"Keep on your pins, you Dagos!"
"Steady, Polacks—there's the strap!"
"Gee up, Johnny!" This to the motorman.
"Gosh, it's like a soda bottle fizzin' to hear them Rooshians talkin'."
"Hooray for you!"
The cars were off swiftly now; the men on the platforms waved their hats, their white teeth flashing, their gold earrings twinkling, and echoed the American cheer:—