A STAGE RUMPUS.

Globe, Volume IV, Issue 400, 23 September 1875, Page 4

A STAGE RUMPUS.

The ’Bus Company are about introducing in Melbourne the patent box system. Don Piatt, writing in the Capital of a stage ride in New York, says ; < Of late the stage companies, to escape the well known robbery by drivers, have put the patent box in each stage. The drivers give change, but are not permitted to take the fare. We were seated, when a stout gentleman entered and crowded into a comer near the door, for the stage was crowded. The new comer took from his vest pocket a ragged note, and passed it along the line. The man nearest the box was a meek-eyed creature, in a single-breasted coat, upon which confiding pious females are so fond of casting their burdens, and sometimes them selves, for he was evidentiy a clergyman. This humble follower of the Lord lifted the note and dropped it into the box. ‘ Halloo ! ’ cried the indignant adipose near the door, * what’d you do that fur ? It’s a quarter.’ ‘ I’m very sorry, I’m sure, stammered the Gospel expounder. ‘Much good ’ll your sorrow do me, answered indignation, working his way to the hole through which the driver conversed with the passengers. He trod on several corns as he pulled at the trap. The stage came to a halt. ‘ I want my change,’ he shouted up through the hole. ‘I put a qiiarter in the box.’ * More fool you.’ * I want none of yonr impudence. ’ ‘ What do you want, then 1 ’ ‘I want my change.’ ‘ You can’t fool me that way. How do I know you put a quarter in ? ’ And the driver started. The clergyman sprang up and pulled the strap, and shouted : ‘ I put the quarter in, my good man ; it is all correct. ’ * Two of you ! ’ retorted the driver, driving on. Both adipose and piety hung to the strap. ‘ Damn your or’nary souls !’ roared the driver, ‘do you want to pull my leg off? Ef you tech that strap again, I’d come down and bay window your countenances. ’ Again the stage rolled on. ‘Permit me, sir,’ said the clergyman, pulling out a very thin pocket book—a pocket book that looked as if it had gone into decline to pay anything—and presenting fifteen cents. * I don’t want your money,’ was the gruff response; ‘ I want my own, and I am going to have it;’ and he seized the strap at the moment a hook-nosed old lady, who resembled a hawk in dedicate health, seized it. The feminine hook-nose wanted to get out. The driver made no response. In an instant the fat man, the clergyman, and old lady were swinging on the strap. The strap suddenly gave way, as if it or the driver’s leg were broken, and the three, tumbling over each other, fell to the bottom, amid roars of laughter from all of us. The stage came to a halt, and we heard the driver shout. ‘ P’lice ! p’lice !’loud as he could bawl. A policeman responding, the driver informed him that there was ‘ a riot’ going on among the * lunatics’ inside the stage, and ‘ he’d better settle ’em before we had another carhook murder.’ The policeman opened the door. The belligerents had subsided, save the old lady, who, attempting to get out, was promptly arrested. The fat man explained the case. * How is this, driver ?’ asked tho policeman. ‘ This man says he put a quarter in your box and you won’t give him his change.’ ‘No; I’d think not,’ was the dry response; the way for him to do is file an affidavy with the surrogate. It’ll only cost him a dollar.’ There is but one course for a policeman to pursue, and that is to arrest somebody. If he cannot arrest anyone he puts on a dignified air and marches away. In this case the conservator of the peace comprised. He arrested the old hook nosed female party—the only innocent actor among us—and held her in durance as far as the sidewalk, and we rolled on.