Not far from the end of the Long Bridge, there is apt to be a
number of colored ladies waiting to get into the car, or to get out of
it,--usually one solemn mother in Ethiopia, and two or three mirthful
daughters, who find it hard to suppress a sense of adventure, and to keep
in the laughter that struggles out through their glittering teeth and
eyes, and who place each other at a disadvantage by divers accidental and
intentional bumps and blows. If they are to get out, the old lady is not
certain of the place where, and, after making the car stop, and parleying
with the conductor, returns to her seat, and is mutely held up to public
scorn by one taciturn wink of the conductor's eye.
Among horse-car types, I am almost ashamed to note one so common and
observable as that middle-aged lady who gets aboard and will not see the
one vacant seat left, but stands tottering at the door, blind and deaf to
all the modest beckonings and benevolent gasps of her fellow-passengers.
An air as of better days clings about her; she seems a person who has
known sickness and sorrow; but so far from pitying her, you view her with
inexpressible rancor, for it is plain that she ought to sit down, and that
she will not.
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