From a perpendicular standpoint he was small, but horizontally, he was
immense, and I viewed his approach with some alarm.

There was a merry twinkle in his eye, and his face beamed with good
nature as he said, "Ah, I see you have room for a wedge at your side;
allow me to put it in place." With considerable effort and a good deal
of tight squeezing, he at last settled down in the seat, remarking, with
a merry laugh, "Here I am at last;" and there I was too, and there I was
likely to remain, if that wedge did not fly out, or the side of the car
give way.

"Have you room enough?" I slyly inquired.

"Plenty of room, thank you," he replied; "I trust you are nice and snug."

"Never more snug in my life."

"That's right; the loose way in which most people travel is a continual
menace to life and limb. I believe in keeping things snug, spiritually,
physically, socially, financially and politically snug. And if things
are spiritually snug, all the others must be so, as a matter of course.
I learned that fact years ago in England."

"Are you an Englishman," I inquired.

"No, sir; I'm a Presbyterian" he laughingly replied; "my father was born
in England, my mother was born in Ohio, and I was born the first time in
New Jersey. Then on a visit to England I was 'born again.' My father
was a Methodist; my mother was a Quaker, so of course I had to be a
Presbyterian."