Birds -- Tennessee; Natural history -- Outdoor books; Tennessee -- Description and travel
To an idler desirous of seeing wild life on easy terms Chattanooga
offers this advantage, that electric cars take him quickly out of the
city in different directions, and drop him in the woods. In this way,
on an afternoon too sultry for extended travel on foot, I visited a
wooded hillside on the further bank of the Tennessee, a few miles
above the town.
The car was still turning street corner after street corner, making
its zigzag course toward the bridge, when I noticed a rustic old
gentleman at my side looking intently at the floor. Apparently he
suspected something amiss. He was unused to the ways of electricity,
I thought,--a verdancy by no means inexcusable. But as he leaned
farther forward, and looked and listened with more and more
absorption, the matter--not his ignorance, but his simple-hearted
betrayal of it--began to seem amusing. For myself, to be sure, I knew
nothing about electricity, but I had wit enough to sit still and
let the car run; a degree of sophistication which passes pretty well
as a substitute for wisdom in a world where men are distinguished
from children not so much by more knowledge as by less curiosity.
In the present instance, however, as the event proved, the dunce's
cap belonged on the other head. My countryman's stare was less
verdant than his next neighbor's smile; for in a few minutes the
conductor was taking up a trap door at our feet, to get at the works,
some part of which had fallen out of gear, though they were still
running. Twice the car was stopped for a better examination into the
difficulty, and at last a new wedge, or something else, was inserted,
and we proceeded on our way, while the motorman who had done the job
busied himself with removing from his coat, as best he could, the oil
with which it had become besmeared in the course of the operation.
It was rather hard, he thought, to have to spoil his clothes in
repair-shop work of that kind, especially as he was paid nothing for
it, and had to find himself. As for my rustic-looking seatmate, he
was an old hand at the business, it appeared, and his practiced ear
had detected a jar in the machinery.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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