I remarked--rather wittily, as I thought--that he had been a lamb all day, but now had all of a sudden developed into a ram-- battering-ram; but with dulcet frankness and simplicity he said no, a battering-ram was quite a different thing, and not in use now. This was maddening, and I came near bursting out and saying he had no more appreciation of wit than a jackass--in fact, I had it right on my tongue, but did not say it, knowing there was no hurry and I could say it just as well some other time over the telephone.

We started to Boston the next afternoon. The smoking compartment in the parlour-car was full, and he went into the regular smoker. Across the aisle in the front seat sat a meek, farmer-looking old man with a sickly pallor in his face, and he was holding the door open with his foot to get the air. Presently a big brakeman came rushing through, and when he got to the door he stopped, gave the farmer an ugly scowl, then wrenched the door to with such energy as to almost snatch the old man's boot off. Then on he plunged about his business. Several passengers laughed, and the old gentleman looked pathetically shamed and grieved.

After a little the conductor passed along, and the Major stopped him and asked him a question in his habitually courteous way:

'Conductor, where does one report the misconduct of a brakeman? Does one report to you?'

'You can report him at New Haven if you want to. What has he been doing?'

The Major told the story. The conductor seemed amused. He said, with just a touch of sarcasm in his bland tones:

'As I understand you, the brakeman didn't say anything?'

'No, he didn't say anything.'

'But he scowled, you say?'

'Yes.'

'And snatched the door loose in a rough way?'

'Yes.'

'That's the whole business, is it?'

'Yes, that is the whole of it.'

The conductor smiled pleasantly, and said:

'Well, if you want to report him, all right, but I don't quite make out what it's going to amount to. You'll say--as I understand you--that the brakeman insulted this old gentleman. They'll ask you what he said. You'll say he didn't say anything at all. I reckon they'll say, How are you going to make out an insult when you acknowledge yourself that he didn't say a word?'

There was a murmur of applause at the conductor's compact reasoning, and it gave him pleasure--you could see it in his face. But the Major was not disturbed. He said:

'There--now you have touched upon a crying defect in the complaint system. The railway officials--as the public think and as you also seem to think--are not aware that there are any insults except spoken ones. So nobody goes to headquarters and reports insults of manner, insults of gesture, look, and so forth; and yet these are sometimes harder to bear than any words. They are bitter hard to bear because there is nothing tangible to take hold of; and the insulter can always say, if called before the railway officials, that he never dreamed of intending any offence. It seems to me that the officials ought to specially and urgently request the public to report unworded affronts and incivilities.'

The conductor laughed, and said:

'Well, that would be trimming it pretty fine, sure!'

'But not too fine, I think. I will report this matter at New Haven, and I have an idea that I'll be thanked for it.'

The conductor's face lost something of its complacency; in fact, it settled to a quite sober cast as the owner of it moved away. I said:

'You are not really going to bother with that trifle, are you?'

'It isn't a trifle. Such things ought always to be reported. It is a public duty and no citizen has a right to shirk it. But I sha'n't' have to report this case.'

'Why?'

'It won't be necessary. Diplomacy will do the business. You'll see.'

Presently the conductor came on his rounds again, and when he reached the Major he leaned over and said:

'That's all right. You needn't report him. He's responsible to me, and if he does it again I'll give him a talking to.'

The Major's response was cordial:

'Now that is what I like! You mustn't think that I was moved by any vengeful spirit, for that wasn't the case.

Mark Twain
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