A FEW days since I took a train for a western trip. I walked the entire aisle, carrying a heavy satchel and lunch basket, without finding a vacant seat. I retraced my steps to where a bright girl, well dressed, occupied a seat by herself and had another reversed for her packages. Putting my hand upon the latter, I said, is this seat occupied? "Yes, madam," she said, in a very pert, decided manner. A gentleman back of her said it was not occupied, and that no person had a right to four seats. I could only go back to the door and wait for the conductor. It seems that this miss was traveling with her parents. They sat opposite, and part of the time her father sat with her. I overheard her recountal of my application for, and her refusal of, a seat. Judge of my surprise to hear her father praise her for her cuteness, and say he would trust her to make her way in the world. This party were well dressed, and probably would have been insulted if any one had suggested they were ill-bred. No doubt the miss had been taught not to eat with a knife, or drink tea from a saucer, or to shut the door rudely in a stranger's face. In this instance, however, was she not only rude, but had she not exceeded the limits of her rights? On another occasion, six or eight young ladies, going to a county seat to a teacher's examination, entered a passenger car about two o'clock in the morning, when all the passengers were sleeping. They came in laughing and giggling, one remarking boisterously, "this evidently is a sleeper." Then all laughed at the joke, while rude puns and jests and loud talk continued until every passenger was aroused. Then one said, "Nell, you were mistaken, this is not a sleeper." During the hour they rode, they were not quiet one moment, and probably every passenger doubted their ability to mould the character of children. Had a certificate of proficiency depended upon our vote, they would have been sent back to mother and tutor for training in politeness, at least. In another instance, a bright young miss, about sixteen, was going West with her parents. By nine o'clock at night she had made the acquaintance of several fellow-passengers, among them some young men. Her frequent sallies of wit and sharp repartee interested those with whom she conversed, but those beyond her circle were greatly annoyed. Whatever was her motive, I cannot judge, but she became more and more bold as the night wore away. She passed up and down the aisle, often talking to parties at the opposite end of the car. Doing all manner of strange things that prevented the possibility of any person sleeping. Among other things, she made the acquaintance of the brakeman, who was a fine-looking young man. To cap the climax, she asked him for his cap, and putting it on, she wondered if she would not make a good-looking brakeman. Then she took his lantern, went through the car, calling out the stations and even putting the lantern in the faces of those she thought were asleep. Her parents laughed at all this as if she were doing something very smart. Now, my dear girls, we like to have you understand American freedom and to know its fullest meaning, for women as well as men. Remember, though, that freedom is not license, and that under all circumstances we should have a respect for other people. Even the humblest, have rights we ought to consider. It might have been very well for this gay young lady to have entertained a company at home, or at the house of a friend, with impromptu theatricals. On that train were invalids seeking health in the West, weary mothers, and sleepy children. All needed the snatches of rest hard to obtain in the cars, and she had no right to amuse herself at their expense. In every place in life a true lady will never forget true politeness, which respects the comfort, pleasure, and rights of others.—Woman's Tribune.