“Oh! oh!” exclaimed another woman in the seat behind, “she’s left her umbrella!”

The conductor promptly threw it out to her.

“Why,” demanded the witness, “did that lady wish to get out here?”

The conductor hesitated before he jerked the bellpull to go on:  Then he said, “Well, she’ll want her umbrella, anyway.”

The conductors are, in fact, very civil as well as kind.  If they see a horse in anxiety at the approach of the car, they considerately stop, and let him get by with his driver in safety.  By such means, with their frequent trips and low fares, and with the ease and comfort of their cars, they have conciliated public favor, and the trolley has drawn travel away from the steam railroad in such measure that it ran no trains last winter.

The trolley, in fact, is a fad of the summer folks this year; but what it will be another no one knows; it may be their hissing and by-word.  In the mean time, as I have already suggested, they have other amusements.  These are not always of a nature so general as the trolley, or so particular as the tea.  But each of the larger hotels has been fully supplied with entertainments for the benefit of their projectors, though nearly everything of the sort had some sort of charitable slant.  I assisted at a stereopticon lecture on Alaska for the aid of some youthful Alaskans of both sexes, who were shown first in their savage state, and then as they appeared after a merely rudimental education, in the costumes and profiles of our own civilization.  I never would have supposed that education could do so much in so short a time; and I gladly gave my mite for their further development in classic beauty and a final elegance.  My mite was taken up in a hat, which, passed round among the audience, is a common means of collecting the spectators’ expressions of appreciation.  Other entertainments, of a prouder frame, exact an admission fee, but I am not sure that these are better than some of the hat-shows, as they are called.

The tale of our summer amusements would be sadly incomplete without some record of the bull-fights given by the Spanish prisoners of war on the neighboring island, where they were confined the year of the war.  Admission to these could be had only by favor of the officers in charge, and even among the Elite of the colony those who went were a more elect few.  Still, the day I went, there were some fifty or seventy-five spectators, who arrived by trolley near the island, and walked to the stockade which confined the captives.  A real bull-fight, I believe, is always given on Sunday, and Puritan prejudice yielded to usage even in the case of a burlesque bull-fight; at any rate, it was on a Sunday that we crouched in an irregular semicircle on a rising ground within the prison pale, and faced the captive audience in another semicircle, across a little alley for the entrances and exits of the performers.  The president of the bull-fight was first brought