“No, no,” said the gentleman who occupied the seat behind me, and whose better nature began to show itself, while, at the same time a dozen others arose, ready to give up their seats. “No, _you_ musn’t move. You’re crippled, and I am not. They can take my seat.” And he jumped up, with an agility that one could scarcely expect to see displayed by an _invalid_, and took a seat beside me; while the gentleman and his _lady_ returned, and took possession of the vacated seat, without a single expression of thanks. “Well,” said I, addressing my companion, “if you wish to take the end by the window, I will exchange with you—at least, for part of the journey.” “O, never mind,” he replied: “I am only going as far as Wilmington.” Here, then, was a man who was only going about twenty miles, who had at first refused to give up his seat for the accommodation of the lady, and yet expected me to give up mine, which I had secured for a ride of a hundred and forty miles. O, the selfishness of the traveler! As I remarked before, there are always a dozen or two of passengers who come aboard the car at the eleventh hour, and have a time of it getting seated. Among them there are usually two or three gentlemen with their _ladies_, as in this case, and they always come to me, the first thing, and ask me to give up my seat. I have long since, however, adopted a course to pursue on such occasions, which, although it involves a little fib or two—which are certainly pardonable—spares me all controversy. On being asked to remove from my seat and take the wrong end of another, I smilingly state that I would cheerfully do so if I were alone, but that unfortunately, my wife and three little boys are out on the platform, bidding some friends good-by, and will presently come in to share the seat with me. Of course they don’t detect the “white one” till the train has started, and by that time, they have procured seats, by some means; and I don’t care how much I overhear them—as I often do—wondering “where that one-legged fellow’s wife and three little boys went to?” CHAPTER XXII. “THE CITY OF MAGNIFICENT DISTANCES.”