“I don’t know. I didn’t hear him say anything; but it is quite possible that he had been ‘sassy.’ All I know is that he stood his ground like a man, with that yelling crowd around him.”
“Oh, the thing blew over. The negro walked away, and the crowd dispersed. As I took my seat again in the car, the man next me said, ‘If that had happened in South Carolina, he would have been a dead nigger.’”
“Not long ago,” my hostess said, “I was in a crowded street-car. [Sidenote: Street-Car Episodes.] A black woman with a baby got in, and had to stand. You know how our Washington cars are constantly rounding corners; and at every curve the woman was nearly thrown from her feet. Presently one of two white shop-girls who were sitting near her rose and gave the mother her place. The two girls soon after got out; and as they passed me, the one who had kept her seat said to the other, ‘I wonder you would do such a thing!’ ‘Didn’t you see she had a baby?’ the other replied; so, after all, we are not quite without humanity.”
“But tell about the two boys,” my host put in.
“Oh, that was two or three years ago. I noticed in a street-car a very distinguished-looking old man with two boys of about fourteen and twelve, evidently his grandsons. I thought what very nicely-mannered boys they were. A white woman got in, and, the car being full, the elder boy rose and gave her his seat. Immediately after, a mulatto woman got in, very well and quietly dressed—entirely a lady in manner and appearance. The younger boy was rising to give her his seat, when the elder pushed him down angrily, saying quite aloud, ‘I thought you knew better than to get up for a nigger.’”
“And what said the distinguished grandfather?”
“He smiled, and nodded to the elder boy.”
[Sidenote: Mr. Roosevelt and the Washerwoman.]
I took out my pocket-book and handed my hostess a cutting I had made a few days before. It was a letter signed “Edgar S. Walz,” and ran thus:
“I read in your Sunday’s issue an item headed ‘Subway Manners: Boys keep their Seats rather than Give to a Sick Old Woman,’ which reminds me of the first time I saw Mr. Theodore Roosevelt, about eight or nine years ago. He was sitting next to me in a Broadway car, and somewhere along about Thirtieth-street the car stopped to let some people on. All secured seats except a coloured woman with a large bundle of clothes. As soon as Mr. Roosevelt saw that she had to stand, he jumped up, took off his hat, and bowed as graciously as though she were the first woman in the land.”