It may have been that my interest was intensified by the fact that down
in Urbana Street cars were unknown, though they were not unimagined,
since we used to see them when we went to Cincinnati, and I could then,
and I can still, recall, though time has softened the poignancy of that
hour, the pain of parting with a certain noble horse which my father
sold to a man of dark and hateful aspect, and of the morsel of comfort
I derived from the stipulation, invalid enough to be sure, my father
made with the dealer, that the horse was not to be put to street-car
service. That, by my father, and so by me myself, was held to be the
most cruel, degrading and ignoble fate that could befall a horse.
But another reason for my interest was the possession of a curiosity
to which the passing show has always been novel, generally amusing,
sometimes pleasing and often saddening, too--a curiosity in life which
I hope will endure fresh and wholesome until life’s largest curiosity
shall be satisfied at the end of life.
The progress of the little street car under notice was leisurely and
deliberate, sometimes it would wait obligingly for a woman, half a
block away, who hurried puffing, and fluttering, and waving, to reach
the street corner, and when she had clambered aboard, the driver
would slowly unwind his brake, cluck to his horse, the rope traces
would strain and the car would bowl along. Ten blocks away from the
business section, or a few blocks further on, the little car with its
five windows and small hooded platform would enter upon a bare, though
expectant scene of vacant lots, and about a mile out, where there
was some lonely dwelling staring blankly and reproachfully as though
it had been misled, and then abandoned, and further on a few small,
expectant cottages, the long, low street-car barn was reached, the car
was driven on to a little turntable, slowly turned about and started
back. Sometimes, if I was lucky, I had a chance to witness the change
of horses, and to experience a nebulous pity for the nag that ambled
contentedly into the stable, and did not seem to be very tired after
all.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account