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Roscoe Conkling begged a colleague sitting next to him to read out loud
something he wished to quote in his speech while he paused to draw a
breath. The colleague read, and Conkling, without a word of thanks,
took back the book; but when a colored man brought him a cup of tea
(which he always takes during his speeches) he stood up and in a very
loud voice, making a solemn bow, said, "I thank you, sir!"
I call that coquetting with the gallery, don't you?
We have been invited to take a trip to California by the railroad
company. We can transport ourselves to Omaha; then all our expenses are
to be defrayed by the lavish company. We have all accepted. Who could
refuse such a tempting invitation?
CALIFORNIA, _Spring, 1877_.
Dear M.,--The rendezvous was to be at the third station before reaching
Omaha, where we really did all meet. On arriving at the next one, some
of the party asked the conductor how long the train would stop, and he
answered, "Twenty minutes"; so off they started on foot to see the
town. We wise ones stayed in the train, which also started off, leaving
our truants behind, but their bags remained with us.
When they returned to the station, before the twenty minutes had
expired, they found the train gone! They hired a special train at great
expense and delay, hoping to overtake us at Omaha. But before they
reached Omaha an official appeared and said that he had received a
telegram from headquarters at Chicago, acknowledging that the conductor
had been at fault in starting a little earlier than he had said;
therefore the company felt itself responsible and insisted on refunding
the money the extra train had cost.
Where else but in America are mistakes so quickly and nicely remedied?
Perhaps in this instance it could be explained by the fact that one of
them was a prominent member of the Republican party, and the other no
less than the Assistant Secretary of State. We were glad to receive our
penitent wanderers, who promised to be more careful another time. We
slept at Omaha, which is the jumping-off place, and to-morrow morning
early we are going to "jump." We have already traveled seventeen
hundred and fifty miles, and have not yet begun our real trip. Omaha
has still wooden sidewalks and muddy roads; the post-office,
school-house, and churches are all built on a grand scale, and the
streets laid out in squares and broad avenues. Probably they have
already designs for a grand-opera house. One
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