Democratic Sentinel, Volume 10, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 April 1886 — The Festive News Agent. [ARTICLE]

The Festive News Agent.

The reader has often noticed how the self-satisfied and complacent news agent stalks, through the train as though he owned the train, the. company. and the road. Like “the sun and I,” he's “very wide awake,” and if one gives him half a chance he’ll either talk the unwary passenger blind oOpompel him in the interest of selfnigservation to buy some of the cheap literature with which lie is loaded down. Brit even the great and only news agent left” occasionally, of which fact a ■Chicago Tribune reporter was an amused witness the other day. A Michigan Central train drew up at the station at Hammond, Ind., and as lank and uncouth a countryman as ever had chills and fever in the Calumet marshes got off. He was accompanied by two females of similar personal characteristics, and he had apparently just returned from his first visit to Chicago and his first ride on a train. In his band was a paper book probably worth at train prices about a quarter of a dollar. In less than thirty seconds after he had reached the station platform the news agent pounced upon him like a hawk on a June bug. “Here, young feller,” he exclaimed savagely, “where’re you goin’ with that book ? You didn’t think J was makin’ you a present of it, did you?” Surprise, doubt, and defiance showed in rapid succession on the countryman’s face. The spectators began to snicker. Suddenly it occurred to him that the newsboy was imposing upon him and he put the book behind him. “B’gosh, ye just chucked it down inter the seat ’thout nobody’s askin’ ye,” he answered surlily, looking around for confirmation of his statement to his two companions who, stood open-mouthed, too astonished to speak. •‘O, Lawd!” wailed the news agent “If the dummed don’t think Igive it to him for nothin’! Give us a quarter, young feller, an’ I’ll call it square. “Yew be gol durned,” responded the countryman, moving off. “I’ll have you jerked if you don’t hand over that quarter,” yelled the news agent furiously. “Don’t git mad naow, sonny; you’ll spile if you don’t keep cool,” was the response. “Gimme the book,” bawted the news agent “or I’ll knoock a lung out of ye.” “Naw yew don’t,” responded the countryman, dropping his satchel and squaring off with the awkwardness of an unbroken steer and about the same amount pf strength. The ntews agent’s ardor was visibly dampened by the demonstration and he was once more beginning to resort to argument when the conductor shouted “All aboard!” and the train moved off. The news agent gained the platform and scowled back a deadly, unspoken threat of arrest and divers other ills and calamities. The spectators, evidently in sympathy with the countryman, laughed uproariously and the backwoods hero moved off complacently with his females, remarking that he’d “Got a heap interested in that ’erebook and it ’ud make gol danged good Sunday readin’—all ’bout detectives and burglars and ‘lnvisible Ike, the Grave Robber.’ ”