who by his appearance and
carriage was stamped as a man distinguished among his fellow-men, was
inquiring on Derby platform for a certain engine-driver in the North
Midland or the Birmingham and Derby service, whose name he gave. On the
driver being pointed out, the gentleman, with the rough but pleasing
north-country burr in his voice, said, after asking his name, "Did you
marry --?" "Yes, sir." "Then she's my niece, and I hope you'll make her
a good husband. I have not had the chance of giving you a wedding
present until now." Then slipping into his hand a bank note for 50
pounds, he talked of other matters. The joy of the engine-driver at
receiving so welcome a present was not greater than being recognised and
kindly received by his wife's illustrious uncle, George Stephenson."

THE POLITE IRISHMAN.

It's a small matter, but a gentleman always feels angry at himself after
he has given up his seat, in a railway car, to a female who lacks the
good manners to acknowledge the favour. The following "hint" to the
ladies will show that a trifle of politeness properly spread on, often
has a happy effect.

The seats were all full, one of which was occupied by a rough-looking
Irishman; and at one of the stations a couple of evidently well-bred and
intelligent young ladies came in to procure seats, but seeing no vacant
ones, were about to go into a back car, when Patrick rose hastily, and
offered them his seat, with evident pleasure. "But you will have no seat
yourself?" responded one of the young ladies with a smile, hesitating,
with true politeness, as to accepting it. "Never ye mind _that_!" said
the Hibernian, "ye'r welcome to 't! I'd ride upon the cow-catcher till
New York, any time, for a smile from such _jintlemanly_ ladies;" and
retreated hastily to the next car, amid the cheers of those who had
witnessed the affair.

AN ENTERTAINING COMPANION.

Once, during a tour in the Western States, writes Mr. Florence, the
actor, an incident occurred in which I rather think I played the victim.
We were _en route_ from Cleveland to Cincinnati, an eight or ten-hour
journey. After seeing my wife comfortably seated, I walked forward to
the smoking car, and, taking the only unoccupied place, pulled out my
cigar case, and offered a cigar to my next neighbour. He was about sixty
years of age, gentlemanly in appearance, and of a somewhat reserved and
bashful mien. He gracefully accepted the cigar, and in