New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1876-09-03
MY Tramp,

Elizabeth Stuart Phelps writes on the
other side of the vexed tramp question in
the current number of the Independent:
ALI through the sweet June weather they
| come trOoping up-a tattered, grimy, des.
perate, cad, but never q bad procession.
| Such men were never seen before in our
self-respecting Massachusetts country roads
| on errsnds such as these. Grave, grim
| men, with steady lips and the solid eye.
brow that betOkens the good workman.
Gentle, kindly men, with the soft blue eye
and sudden smile that bespeak home.loving
| natures. They stand before me, deterrent,
hat in hand, but stern, with fierce, re-
pressed kind of self respect.
Hour after hour l entertain them in the
back entry. They ask for little. Never for
money. 'I'm not q beggar, miss" Seldom
for food; schooner for lodging. It is the
same old, unending, weary story, "Can you
give me work. can get 40 work. Have
you got anything can doe'
He has asked for bread. We must give
him q stone. 1t seems . refined insult to q
man who seeks only the sacred right OF
self-support to offer him q dinner or q
dollar.
Most of them seem glad to talk little;
very glad to rest. They sit upon the door
step patiently. quick to see the first sign of
failing hospitality in their hostess, and gen.
orally ready to move On" before their en-
tertainment has begun to weary her. They
tell their stories little By little, in the dull,
No work. No work. No work. The mill
has shut down. The shop is closed. The
company has failed. The railroad lie in
trouble. Never was like this before.
Never thought to come to such pass. Al
ways earned enough. Was steady man.
Came of respectable folks. Never thought
to see the hour he'd be taking dinner from
W how
such times a. these in all his life. They
can't last much longer. If they do, the
man don't live as Can say what will be the
end of it.
Thank you! Yes, l will rest" says one
big, burly fellow, with slow and grateful
glance. Fact is, I'm little lame for such
life. I've come from Manchester. I've
been to Lawrence, Lowell, Methuen. I'm
goin' to try my luck at Boston next. Don't
expect there's much chance for me. Every
body goes to Boston, as you say. worked
out to the Hoosac Tunnel before came this
way. I'd turn my hand to anything could
get. was in q mlll-a weaver-but 1t shut
down. Where do l stay nights9 Out of
doors! Well. you see it's cold 60 early in
the season for lame man. If sleep in the
field, get damped and can't walk next
day. Then the likes of us can't do such
things. No, don't suppose you ever would
sec why. AuoEo . tuluge IN tnls way OF Nv"
ing q lady wouldn't think of. Nobody
wouldn't without he'd tried it. wouldn't
darst to sleep in the field too much. Cen
orally, l go to the poOrhouee. There's so
many dreadful things. Murders and man.
capers of all kinds And if anything hap
pens, and there's chap like me that can't
give an account of himself, he's taken up
for it. If there was to be anything down
town tonight, and you'd been talking to
mo MI 10 q
and I'm wandering man, and known only
to be here or there. If I've spent the night
nowhere in partikkelar, chances are Pm ar
rested come morning. 1t amt safe. It's
more that mind than the cold"
Are the very moors and heavens, then,
like the laws Of supply and demand. in
league against him! Here is side of tramp
sheltered, housekeeping, safe and blessed
part of the community as the psychology of
fishes. One young man asks with extreme |
hesitation for pair of shoes.
1--WE got TO walk to Providence, and you |
see my feet. amt used to this. l never |
asked for anything before. Thank you, cir.
That's q good pair. Breakfast No, thank |
you. Well-yes-l am hungry;
but you've given me the shoes. I didn't |
trade. Last month we shut down. / can't |
find anything to do. I'm getting back by |
inches to Providence. I've got folks in
Providence. Yes, l had good wages Used |
to earn my four and five dollars q day."
There is q pause. My tramp upon the
doorstep gulps his coffee down in silence.
I, in the entry, gaze over his head into the
sweet June world. do not ask him what
has become of his four or five dollsrs a day,
and aggravating Christianity by getting fed
upon our doorstep, half q dozen of them
at this serions rate. say only,
That was a good deal of money. Does
your mother know you are in so destitute
,onditionl"
My tramp hangs his young head little.
NO, miss. But she must, s'pose. You
zee, it is too bad-a young fellow like me.
I'm only thirty years old. I've always had
ooked to come to this. Fact is-I-well,
IN like other fellows, and suppose l spent
t. Spent it as l went along. was single
nan. And always dressed we'll, and liked
o take horse out now and then. And
hen it went in foolery, and I'll own to q
title drink. But that l got over q year
go. So what had saved it wouldn't carry |
ne far. never thought to come to this.
l ever get out of this scrape I'll know
etter Would you like to see a picture of
~ mother! I'll show you one. l carry it in !
he Testament. She gave me the Testament.
he wrote my name in it. Do you sect [
here. My mother is good woman. I'm
shamed to 60 to her like this. Now my
lother. she's been trying all my days to 4
lake Christian out OF me, and if ever &
et out of this scrape guess she'll do it
lis time.'
Now how comfortably the June day and Y
}. And how gently he listens to our little t
rmon over the last sandwich crumbs. Let {
. not believe he will 60 upon spree again =
it'll his first wages.
It is . little perilous, perhaps, in these Q
lys expressing any confession of faith in |
amp character. One can hardly expect h
Y more after it to move in the first circles 4