Homeburg Memories — George Fitch

Hel-lo, Jim Darn your case-hardened old hide, but I'm glad to see you Wait till I unclamp my fingers from this suit case handle and I'll shake hands. Whoa-look out That's the fourth time that chap's tried to tag me with his automobile baggage truck. He'll get me yet. I wish I were a trunk, Jim. Why aren't they as kind to the poor traveler as they are to his trunk? I don't see any electric truck here to haul me the rest of the way into New York. It's a long, long walk to the front door of this station, and my feet hurt.