-- ' . " ,%? ^ . . ... 1 ■ - ‘ ON ; RAPID ^TRANSIT BY GEO. V. HOBART, ("HUGH M’HUGH”) Dear Bunch: Every time I hop Into one of those roomy, comfortable street cats in a city of the second, third or even fourth class. I immediately con trast it with the wood boxes we use in New York, and I find myself growing red in the face and biting my nails. Those squeezer cars that prowl the streets of New York are surely the breathless limit, aren't they?” The squeezer car is the best gen teel imitation of a rough-house that has ever been invented. The are called squeezers because the conductor has to let the passen gers out with a can-opener. Brave and strong men climb into a street car, and they are full of health and life and vigor, but a few blocks up the road they fall out backward and inquire feebly for a sanitarium. To ride on a Broadway street car. for instance, about eight o'clock of an Leaves the Rebellious Standing on a Corner. evening, brir.ga out all that is in a man, including a lot of loud words he didn't know he had. The last census shows us that the Btreet cars of New York have more ways of producing nervous prostration and palpitation of the brain to the square inch than the combined popu lation of Amsterdam, Rotterdam, Tinkersdam and Gotterdammerung. To get in some of the street cars about six o'clock is a problem, and to get out again is an assassination. One evening I rode from Forty-sec ond street to Fifty-ninth without once touching the floor with my feet. Part of the time I used the out posts of a stout gentleman to come between me and the ground, and dur ing the rest of the occasion I hung from a strap and swung out wild and free, like a Japanese flag on a windy day. Some of the New York street cars lead a double life, because they are used all winter to act the part of a 1 refrigerator. It is a cold day when we cannot find it colder in the street oars. In Germany we find Germans in the cars, but in America we find germs. That is because this country is young and impulsive. The germs in the street cars are extremely sociable, and will follow a stranger all the way home. Often while riding in the New York street cars I have felt a germ rubbing against mv ankle like a kitten, but, being a gentleman, I did not reach down and kick it ‘away because the law says we murt not be disrespectful to the dumb brutes of the field. Many of those street cars are built on the same general plan as a can of condensed milk. The only difference is that the street cars have a sour taste, like a lemon-squeezer. When you get out you cannot get in, and when you get in you cannot The Germs Will Follow a Stranger All the Way Home. get out. because you hate to disturb the strange gentleman that Is using your knee to lean over. Between the seats there Is a space of two feet, but in that space you will always find four feet, and their own ers, unless one of them happens to have a wooden leg. Under ordinary circumstances four into two won’t go, but the squeezer cars defy the laws of gravitation. A squeezer conductor can put 26 into nine and still have four to carry. The ladies of New York have start ed a rebellion against the squeezer cars, but every time they start it the conductor pulls the bell, and leaves the rebellious standing on the corner. We are very nervous and careless people in New York. To prove how careless we are, I will cite the fact that Manhattan island is called after a cocktail. This nervousness is our undoing because we are always in such a hurry to get somewhere that we would rather take the first car and get squeezed into breathlessness than wait for the next, which would likely squeeze us into insensibility. Breathlessness can be cured, but Insensibility is dangerous without an alarm-clock. For a man with a small dining-room, the squeezer car has Its advantage, but when a stout man rides in them, he finds himself supporting a lot of strangers he never met before. . One evening I jumped on one of -r_.~ . „.«„ t those squeezers feeling just like * two-year-old, full of health and happi ness. The thought of it makes m« feel quite Tennysonsque! From Cortland street he proudly strode at suppertime that day to take the elevated road which goes up Har lem way. He shook and shivered like the deuce, and then he sadly sighed, because the path was long and loose which led to Morningside. He kissed the down-town girl he rushed, and said: “I know you’ll miss me! but don’t start weeping if I’m crushed; just kiss me, sweet heart; kiss me! ’Tis miles to go, long miles to go to where I do reside, and boogie men are in the cars that run to Morningside!" Her eyes were like two stars that shine and sparkle through the rain; she sobbed: "Good-by, sweetheart ol mine!”—he kissed his love again. “And should I not return some day to claim my blushing bride, you'll find me on the right of way twixt here and Morningside! “Oh, Phyllis, I must pull up stakes this awful trip to make—hark! do you hear the broken brakes refuse to make a brake? Good-by. my love; good-by, my dove! on this I do decide; when airships come in use I’ll take you up to Morningside.” He found a car well loaded down with 50 souls or more to take the pathway through the torvn he'd taken oft before. The guard unto his voice gave vent: “Ooftgooftenooftenvide!” then closed the gates and off they went, bound for Morningside. Fat men sat down in ladies’ laps they’d never met before; and sad and solemn-looking chaps exploded some and swore. Some used the air to stand upon, the floor was occupied by 27,000 feet bound out for Morningside. “I want my hat!” a small man cried in accents full of heat; and when to reach for it he tried, somebody swiped his seat. Ten thousand souls hung onto straps and did the slide-the slide; the human laundry which night hangs out for Morningside. IJeneath the car the third rail snaps Genteel Imitation of a Rough-House. and barks and tries to bite while those who hang around on straps turn over then turn white. It sighs for those and cries for those who in the coaches ride, and makes them wish they did not live far out at Morning side. Where does the fat director ride who owns the iron road? With human sardines does he hide while homeward he is towed? Not on your life! a squeeze like that would surely hurt his pride; he takes the benzine buggy when he goes to Morningside. The cars will crowded be to-night ;• there'll be another crush; for hunger waits on appetite and all must home ward rush, and stand like men to pay the debt monopolies provide on any road, on every road—including Morn ingside! How about it! (Copyright, 1303, by G. W. Dillingham Co.) WHIPPING POST AND STOCKS. Stood in the Raleigh Courthouse Land Until End of Civil War. Up until the end of the war and a little while after the whipping post and stocks stood not far from the northwest corner of the courthouse and between that building and the present post office, and there the last whipping took place, though as it be gan it was sought to be stopped by a federal officer. The sheriff was, how ever, simply carrying out the mandate of the old court of pleas and quarter sessions. In those days the stocks and the whipping post too were special attrac tions, notably to boys. The latter were allowed to ridicule people who sat in the stocks, which held their hands and feet, but not to throw any thing at them. Of course this deprived the boys of some degree of pleasure, yet they contrived to get a good deal of fun out of the thing anyway. It seems odd now even to think of such scenes as these must have been. Figure to your self passing by the courthouse gTeen at Charlotte or Raleigh and seeing a gentleman held by the ankles and wrists by wooden bars, sitting there in the sunshine for all the world to look at. Those were the days of the brand ing iron too. A set of gyves of iron, in use for holding the ankles or wrists, are on exhibition here, but of branding irons there are none. These were used here in January, 1865, for the last time.—Raleigh correspond ence Charlotte Observer. Dishonest Heroines. The steady increase of crime among stage heroines is beginning to get serious. It used to be the men who did all, or most of the dreadful things in plays—I mean the picking and steal ing, the forging and embezzling, and offenses of that kind. Now It is the women—and it Is all the fault of the late Henrik Ibsen. Heaven rest his soul, notwithstanding.—M. A. P. .1 .-./.flcmrvinlnH VlV MlQCl I AVIIIA I lllllltl iQNGVfoYAGgFOR Submarines & PROPOSED TRIP OP LITTLE CRAFT TO THE phil /ppj/sEs fi ZATZJT TYPA or I/O. SUBIiAJfflZ ronprw BOAT JVZVS