Rensselaer Republican, Volume 21, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 July 1889 — A Waste of Eggs. [ARTICLE]

A Waste of Eggs.

' Railway pigs do not always secure happiness for themselves by making their fellow passengers comfortable, writes a Boston correspondent. A friend of your correspondent chanced to witness a melancholy adventure which befell two of the breed on a suburban train the other day. PigjNo. 1 was unjustifiably occupying two seats while other persons Were compelled to stared for want of sitting room. To keep the second place at his side he had deposited thereon a good-sized papor bag full of something. The train drew up at a station on its way into town and pig No. 2 entered the car with a slam. Pig No. 1 was a selfish pig, whereas pig no two was an aggressive pig. Both varieties are only 100 familiar. Now ensued a tragedy,in one act Pig No. 2 made hi:; way along the aisle until he came 38 the bench occupied by pig No. 1. for the accommodation of hunself and hit paper bag. Then he paused and glared. Doubtless if he had asked pig No. 1. to remove the offending parcel and make room for him, he would have acquiesced and all would have been peaceful and lovely. Pig No. 2, however, did not choose to make any such polite request. He simply spread hi 3 coat tails and sat down upon the paper bag with the ponderous emphasis of about 180 pounds, avardupois. Squash! Pigs Nos. 1 and 2 leaped to their feet simultaneously. On the countenance of the former was an expression of pardonable anger, on that of the latter were written emotions of horror and alarm. At the same time, the passengers near by observed that pig No. 2 was literally covered as to his rear with a fluid of chrome yellow tint, which trickled down the legs of his trousers to the floor. The seat ha had so suddenly vacated was a puddlq of the same. “Sir! exclaimed pig No. 1, wrathfully, “how dare you smash my eggs?” “Jackass!” replied pig No. 2, with equal heat, “what do you mean by setting a trap with your infernal hen fruit for decent people to sit down upon?” “Two dozen and a half, fresh laid,” said pig No. 1. “I’ll thank you to pay me for them.” “A brand new pair of fourteen dollar pantaloons,” rejoined pig No. 2. “Replace them or fight” It was the brakeman who interfered and Put an untimely stop to what promised to be an unusually interesting scrimmage. At the last view the writer’s friend had of the combatants, as the train came to a full stop in the Boston depot, pig No. 1 was leaving the car breathing awful threats of action for assault, while pig No. 2 was being wiped off with newspapers by the brakeman aforesaid Most of the passengers, strange to say appeared to be grieved that the tw* had not been unmolested. There are plenty of railroad pigs to spare in these parts.