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Page, Thomas Nelson, 1835-1922

"The Burial of the Guns"


I pushed my way in and asked him, in my most dulcet tone,
if I could get an upper berth to New Orleans. I called him `Captain',
thinking him a pompous old fellow. He was just beginning to speak
to someone else, but I caught him and he looked across the crowd
and said `New Orleans!' My heart sank at the tone, and he went on
talking to some other man. `I told you that I would give you a lower berth,
sir, I can give you one now, I have just got a message that the person
who had "lower two" will not want it.' `Hold on, then, I'll take that lower,'
called the man who had spoken before, over the crowd, `I spoke for it first.'
`No you won't,' said the Captain, who went on writing.
The man pushed his way in angrily, a big, self-assertive fellow;
he was evidently smarting from his first repulse. `What's that? I did,
I say. I was here before that man got here, and asked you for a lower berth,
and you said they were all taken.' The Captain stopped and looked at him.
`My dear sir, I know you did; but this gentleman has a lady along.'
But the fellow was angry. `I don't care,' he said, `I engaged the berth
and I know my rights; I mean to have that lower berth, or I'll see
which is bigger, you or Mr. Pullman.' Just then a lady, who had come out
on the steps, spoke to the Captain about her seat in the car.


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