CATCHING AN OMNIBUS.
“If you want to take a 'bus,” said Mr. Sphynx, in
his oracular manner, “you must be 'mazing sly; you
must n't go boldly up to 'em, 'cause they 'll certingly
be full, — room for twelve, and seventeen inside, — or the
driver won't see you, if you shake your umbrel or cane
at him never so much. 'Buses are queer critters — very
queer; it takes sunthing of a man to understand their
natur. When you want one, there a'n't one coming.
Put your head out in the rain, and look every which
way, you can't see hide nor hair of one. Wait till the
next one comes — that 's full; so 's the next. Then you
get a little miff'd, and says you, `I 'll walk!' Start
in the rain — get wet; when you get almost where you
want to go, 'long comes one of 'em, like blazes — lots
of room — looking at you as much as to say, `See here,
old boy! don't you wish you 'd ha' waited?' and whisks
by like a racer. If you see a 'bus a little ways ahead,
and run yourself into a fever to catch it, two to one it 'll
be the wrong 'bus, and you 'll have to walk, arter all.
Now the way to do is this: — Act jest as if you don't
care a snap whether you ride or not. Be indifferent,
and one 'll come right along; don't be uneasy 'bout
getting a seat, and there 'll be plenty of room; conclude
that you 'll walk, and you may have a whole 'bus to
yourself. That 's the way to come it over 'em!” Saying
which, and shaking his head profoundly, Mr. Sphynx
retired.
