After some general conversation I drifted to the subject of what sights and sounds a hackman sees and hears after nightfall. “I’ve seen too much of that to my own sorrow, as you know,” my companion said. “If I had seen less of it, instead of being another man’s servant, I would have had a carriage of my own. Not that there ain’t more money to be made at night than in the day time if a man holds a good sharp rein on himself. A fellow that keeps his eye on the main chance and knows how to keep a stiff upper lip will make dollars and dollars.” “I suppose your work has given you a big insight into the wickedness of a great city.” “What I don’t know of the blackguards, men and women, in this town ain’t worth knowing. I am up to every scheme that has ever been tried, I believe. I tell you, we hackmen are about as fly as they make them.” “You can’t all be extra ‘fly,’” I said. “Well, there are a lot of new fellows in the business, and they are regular chumps. It’s them that spoils everything. They don’t know the kind of men to strike for a good fat fare, and when they do they bungle it, and get themselves in the papers and give the hackmen a bad name. The business is overrun. Everybody that knows how to put on a horse-collar now wants to drive hack. They see that it is a job which there ain’t any hard work in. But there’s any amount of dirty work for us. We’re out in all sorts of weather, sun and rain and frost. We’re liable to be out till all hours of the night and up by daylight the next morning to catch a train. Then, if we want to make a cent, we have to do everything we’re asked. It’s quite a common snap to have a stranger come to you at the Union station and ask you to drive him up to one of them houses. Now, just look at such work as that—acting as a bad woman’s directory. But I don’t know of a hackman on the stand who won’t take the job. You bet your life I make them fellows pay accordin’ to a special tariff. Do you know, last summer I drove an old fellow from Parry Sound up to a house on Little Nelson street. When he paid me my fare I saw he had a big wad of bills. He told me to come back next day about two o’clock, as he wanted to be driven to a sister of his who lived on the Kingston road. I called for him next afternoon, but the old man was not ready to go, and would you believe, I called for that old tarrier for five days, and on the fifth day he didn’t have a picayune. I had to drive him to Singer’s pawn shop, where he put up his watch and chain for money enough to take him home. He never saw his sister, and I often wondered what yarn he told the folks at home about his visit to town.” “Do you suppose they robbed him?” “Oh! not exactly robbed him, but I heard afterwards that the old fool was offering prizes of five dollar notes for whoever could kick highest. Do you know that if it wasn’t for the strangers half of these places would have to shut their doors.” “I believe you are right.”