Amenities of Street-Car Travel

SEEING and hearing so much of the disagreeables of street-car travel, you are apt to forget the other side unless you stop occasionally and think of the pleasure which you really have found in the cars ; and which, found there amid the prevailing monotony and stupidity, assumes unwonted importance, and adds materially to the little amenities of life on which such a deal of everyday cheerfulness and satisfaction depends.

It is a rainy, gloomy day, — wet clothing, dismal faces, a finished paper : you have read the signs till you hate pickles and soap, and you loathe the title, even, of “ the most successful book of the year.” Suddenly you catch the man opposite you smiling ; you wonder what he can see. You follow his gaze : there is a woman and a baby. The woman may be frowzy, the baby not clean ; but look again ! A movement of the infant causes the woman to glance down at it, lying on her arm. The tired look vanishes from her face, and there comes the gaze of motherhood,—the one universal loveliness common to all womankind. For be she beautiful or ugly, good or bad, rich or poor, refined or its opposite, no woman is incapable of this holy look. In all it is the same, — the expression of the Divine in humanity, the expression of the one feeling which it is given to humankind to share with the Eternal Creator, — love for that helpless thing which is of me and from me,which lives only because I am. Every one in the car recognizes this look, and reflects it to a faint degree in his own face. Look about you, and you will see that this is so. Think of your own face, and you will feel a change, a slight softening of the muscles’ strain.

The effect produced by an older child is not so subtle, but it is none the less modifying to the general boredom. As usual the car was monotonously commonplace. A cherub child and his mother arrived. The child proceeded to knee the seat, slightly to the discomfort of his neighbor. But he soon began to exclaim at the sights, and, patting his mother’s face (whereat wistfulness appeared on many a watching face), to whisper audibly in her ear. Every one keyed up a bit, and the proud mother light shone in the woman’s face at the signs of interest in her child. A small cat chanced to run along the street. The child was in ecstasies and rattled on : “ Oh, mamma, is n’t that a lovely little kitty ? Is n’t she sweet ? is n’t she dear ? is n’t she the damnedest little cat you ever saw ? ” Thereafter that ride was a delight to all of us. And this is only an example ; children are always potential, though perhaps few would appeal so neatly to a carful of men.

Then, too, look at the faces in a car in which there is a crowd of boys going to the circus, or a picnic, or other good time ; or a lot of girls going to a dance : and who shall say we are not open to the blandishments of youth, and that even a street car may not be " amenitive ” ?

Another sign is the almost universal stir at the entrance of a baby-laden woman, of an old person, or of a cripple. We may be selfish and read our papers, but, as a rule, we do keep the tail of our eye out for the helplessness of youth or age or infirmity.

Of the less worthy pleasures, hardly amenities, is the overhearing of gossip, criticisms of the play and of clothes ; the disposition of an awkward bag or the undoing of a bundle. Then, sometimes, there is the sudden brightness and perfume of flowers, and an occasional live animal.

And I confess that it is to me of the amenities to see a conductor with clean hands or a clean collar. Not that he is to be blamed or wondered at if both are extremely dirty ; but if they, either or both, chance to be clean, he is to be wondered at and admired. So you meditate on that inborn cleanliness which neither money nor the street will destroy, — on the why and the wherefore ; you plan epigrams ; and by means of a clean conductor your ride has become the induction to an amenity, and maybe the inspiration of a “ contribution.”