The stood the door way to the train car as pushed slow,y out station, holding my Sachel lightly. I had been the last one,puprose because I also that was quite a benefit from being the last one, you got to choose which car your rode on. The train ride to Philadelphia was alway packs, so unless you traveling with another person. Their was a certain that you be sharing seat. And, once you be sitting next some one for an hour, I alway try to pick the entertaining one. Depending one my mood, I pick different people. Sometimes, I would pick the intense reader- the quiet gentleman that was so consumed by in his paper that he never even notice sitting next to him. Sometime I sit to golly old man- the kindly old dude who alway had a good jokes and interesting military stories. Or maybe, I sit next to some quiet guy.It was my week off and I was heading to Philadelphia to visit my relative. It was my grandfather birthday, and just for a special treat, my grandma was making him special bean soup, with fresh beans form Virginia. I couldn't wait, and the excitement had already just started, know as I was picking seats. I scan the car. It was full as usually, with little seats. Some young college boys were crammed in the first row. No,I thought, not a them again. He hate siting next to the rich college boys, who made nothing but trouble but got away as long they and were allowed to college as long keep the " gentlemen's C". Behind them were some young business man, whose face stared instense at clasic books. List went on and one, I walk down the aisle. I had past evey empty spot, and was know at end car. I reach back car, to find last empty seat that's had seen. Next to the seat a negro man, about my age, 28,who PI say his dark face and instantly knew what he was - a run awayI could tell from the way he sat, his face nervous. He sat, avoiding eye contacts with everyone. His clothes were unusual nice for those of a runaway, but they he look worn, as if he been nervous from sometime. But their one key I notice about him- he keep looking at his papersNow, as part slave recover act, every free man had carry around identication paper with them to prove that they free, and most include a physical description. Free man clung to paper, making a permenant fixture that alway in their presence, but for most part the stay in tuck away in pocket and shoe, as not to remind that the piece paper was only thing the guarantee them the basic rights of freedom. However, this man had his kept low in hands, as if to make it look like he wasn't reading them. I just barely noticed. But he seemed to study a nod stared, as if any minute they would disappear or fly away. I thought , for a second and decide to sit down."Do mind if I sit here," I asked man. He looked at me, greatly startle, partial by fact that I here, and maybe by fact I spoke him before sitting down. "You welcome to it here, sir," he said quickly and respectfully, scooting over as far as he could. I sat, in my seat and placed my Sachel by legs of the bench. I hadn't bought a newspaper that day, and didn't have a book, so I just stared in frontmen for second.The man quietly place his paper in pocket of clean but old, fadded pants.Me and the man sat in silence, both stare at the back of the seat in front as if it were some fabulous ad fascinating attraction. I glance at him a few times, but he unconsciously look scared, as if i was reading his thoughts. I knew that he was a runway.I leaned into the aisle and glanced. Into the next car - the conductor stood in aisle, getting the last ticket. I could tell him, and the man would immediately return emo his owner But i could bring himself to do- not after what my grandma told me."They called us servants, " he old tired voice used to crack sometimes as he sat on her rocket " but we were slaves!!" She always began the story of how we came to America. She the tell of the tooling hills and green grass of Scotland,then of the excitement and promise of the new world. While, I enjoy parts, I alway knew how it would it end. She finally tell of the horrors of her indentured servitude. Off how, in reality, they were slaves.After remembering that, when I looked at the Negro, I couldn't say anything. At least, my gradnmaother had left. My family, was still poor, none the less. I was leaving my butler closet in Virginia to visit my parents' temmant in Philadelphia. However, I was free. I didn't have ask for a permission or carry around a pass to go. But this man, unless he escape, would forever be inslaved. No only that but he lived with fact and any children he father would be inslaved too, and their children after would spend their life in shadow of the 'big house', in the flear of the whip. I codemmed is man, I codemmed his family tree. Realizing this, I made my decision. I could not let be respond for the explosion of this man's family tree. After deciding this, I felt this overwhelm food of happy warmth, the same kind you get when drop a pair mitten in the ladies' aid Christmas drive box or open the door for an old man."Tickets!" I heard the conductor finally shout. "Papers and tickets!" Passes, I thought, what about this man passes. I glance over at him. He know tried to stare calmly out of the window, as I he was trying to look less suspected. His hurry to turn around, he left his paper on the seat.While I only had gone up to about 5th grade in school, I made all of those 5 years count, and I kept particing the lessons I learn during them, so I could read pretty good. I glance over at the papers. I scanned them until I found a physical description. I begin read it. Malllato, light brown skin, it read. I glance at the man, a saw that he had skin as dark as the night.short, stocky built. The man sat straight in his seat, his muscular legs seemly squish so that his that his bended knees rose 2 or 3 inches above the seat. I glanced at the page again. About 35. The man th same age as me, I thought, if the conductor read his paper, he will surely be caught, My happiness turn to desparation as I realize my intergity could not be enough to save this man."Tickets," the conductor shouted again. I look up realizing that he was only 2 seat away. It not your problem, a voice I my head said, it non of your business whether that man go caught or not. That was true, it not only none of business,it could be criminal for me to get involved. But I had too"Tickets," I hear again, this time the sound only one seat away. Suddenly an idea pops into me head. I lean over and grab my satchel. Well, in truth, my satchel was no more old raggedy dirty grey canvas bag my mom gave me when I turn 14. Just contents of it was just as raggedy as the outside. I went Several old dingy trouser and old off white shirts. I look through and through, from pile of letter to mute book. I finally felt what looking for, the jar of beans ... "Tickets," the conductor cried , addressing me. I pretend to not hear him so I had enough time to to finally preparation. "Ticket," the conductor screamed louder at me. "Me," I asked responded innocently. "Yes, you!" I study the conductor tough angry young face. He was only about 5 year older to me,but he seem to carry around the anger of a man 10 times as older then him. After seeing his face, I knew what I had to do."Here my ticket," I said as room out my hand. "Know your paper , you nigger," the man say gruffly at the man. Emotionlessly, he gave he reach to him. Wait for it, I thought. The second seem to move so slowly as the man lean to past to him. Finally I just a second before the man reach the ticket - I turn the satchel in lap over ever so slightly and give it a lightly tap on the bottom and braced myself for the impact.CRASH! In a single explosion of glass and dried kidney lentil,chaos insued.The sound of screams of the women ( as well as some of the men) filled the car. Many jump had jump at the noise, and were know crouching on the tops of their seats, as if a rattlesnake had gotten loose. In the middle of the confusion was the conductor who had immediately drop the man paper and in half sliding-half running motion slide to the front of the car trying to find the dust pan. I sat there, observe this smugly in my seat as I tried hard not to grin. I turn over to the negro to find him lol,ing noticeable calmer. He seem to hold his head up a bit higher. "Quite an accident,"I remarked. "Yessir," he replied quietly. I look at him, in his eye and at that exact second,I swear he mouthed "thank you"- Errrr! The train came to a sudden stop . An hour had pasted and we finally made our way to the station. I got up and to let the Negro past me. Because of the disaster, the conductor had forgotten his papers, and was left free to go. I stood next to the seat as the man grab his bundle. He went past me and began to leave but he suddenly seem to remember something and he went back "Whoosh!!" The train on the next track make a loud sound and turn to look at. It whizz past us, it engine to detrimene to reach New York. Wow, I thought, the wonder of modern society After the train had speeded out of my site, I turn back to my seat. To my suprise, the Negro was gone and out of sight. I look around, glancing all over the train and even looking onto the platform. He was no where to be scene. I shrugged silently to myself and went to pick up the remnants and rag that were left of my bag when a glimpse of light blinded my eye. On the seat, was a shiny new nickel. I check my pocket quickly, and my $12.55 cent I brought with me was still intact , I realize it had to be the man money. Again, I scan the crowd desperately but the man was no were in sight. Years later, I still have that nickel. While, it may of been a terrible mistake, I like to think as a gift. Well, not necessarily as gift, but as Token, for the Negro didn't something that changed me. Sure, I didn't become and abolinist and I manage to stay out of the civil war as much as possible (though I dip my ankle in it but that's another story)it made me a bit kinder. Ever since, I alway try a little harder to help when seen injustice. I try to be more honest too. In truth, the man just give me a nickel that day - he gave me something more precious, valuable , and useful - he gave back a bit of my humanity. And that's a beautiful thing
