The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1877-11-30

tops drew their cool shadows over hci
face, and the sun sank out of sight
"What are we going TO do about get.
ting home? Ny friends will be cruzy.
1t seemed as if her perplexities that
day were never going TO end.
81 supposed that, if did not find tho
way home for you, you would probably
shoot me at sundown," replied the
tramp, with his quizzical expression,
$50 stirred about while YOU were TAX
ing your nap, and think have the di.
rcctions about right. II will be nearly
an hours walk. We will start at once
if you feel strong enough
eyes, indeed; let us not wait mo.
ment!" and, gathering up her skirts
she followed his lead straight into the
forest. The ''great companion" was
sinking in the west and sending only
occasional faint, level rays through the
dusly woods. She felt lonely and fear.
some, but no more really scared than il
she had been with her father or broth.
cr She needed all her breath for walk.
ing, and they did not talk, nor did he
even turn TO her, save once or twice
when he had TO lift her over fallen
trees. which he did with the utmost
strength and dclicacy.
''llcrc's the road" he said at last
and, clambcling over a stone fence,
they stood in it Mt point which Miss
Livingstone recognized.
They now walked along side by side
She would not have liked to be alone
on that road at that time of night, and
1t was with sense of being protected
that she glanced now and then at the
big figure by her side, taking small
steps to keep pace with her. Either he
was very reticent or very deferen-
tial person, for he did not once offer to
enter into conversation. His quiet
sufflcicncy began actually to piuue
her, which showed that she had como
to recognized him rs q man and social
being. Finally she broke out:
care you really tramp? I'm sure
you are not in the least like any one !
ever heard Of"
"Certainly, am tramp" he replied,
gravely. "It may be matter of Opin-
ion whether I am gentleman or not.
At least, YOU don't seem inclined to be-
licvc it; but, if tramping makes a
tramp, am undoubtedly tramp"
"But how can you make up your
mind to such life?" she cried impul-
| L
sure, of honorable feelings, like vou."
81 think You do our guild injustice" d"
he replied with an air of mild rcproach.
"Surely, as a physical exercise, the doc
tors recognize nothing as better than
tramping. Thatit is favorable to taste
and spirituality is shown by the fact
that bards and apostles were of old fa-
nous tramps.'
"But-eXcusc me you know You
have to beg-that is, you have to ask
people, you know, for food, don't you?'
said Miss Livingston.
"You mean we beg our brcadY" he
amended. "Ycs, that is the main ar
gnment for the tramper's way of life.
What title is so clear, so sweet, so beyond
question as that by free charity? lie
who trades in his goods or his wits
must often feel himself cheat, always
a cheat or cheated, and his bread must
be sour and bitter. But the bread that
is given is as sweet as the unboughl
blessings of God. The old monks were
right. He who would keep his con-
science clear must beg his living. am
sick at heart of this lying sham of mine
and thine. | know not, no man can
know for certain, in the war of equities.
what or how much is rightly his and
rightly another's. | leave such con-
trovcrsics to others. am tired of this
grab etiquette at the table of life. do
NOT ask for great portion, but what |
do have want to be able TO eat with a
good conscience, with assurance that il
is mine. TO that end | would gladly
concede that everything of right belongs
TO others. so that my claim to at least
what they freely give me might be
clear. Often enough. where get per-
picked over the retinemcnts and hope
less obscurity of mcum and tlium, hall
resolve TO become a tramp myself"
"But thought you said YOU were a
tramp?" said Miss Livingston, quickly.
"Why, so am" replied he. At this
moment they turned corner of the
road and the lights of the hotel cleaned
right ahead. ''IIcrc leave you.' said
the tramp.
son, no." cried Miss Livingston, al.
most laying her hand on his sleeve.
"You must come to the hotel and take
some of these sweet gifts you talk OF
from me, although they will not be
gifts indeed, but rather scrimped pay.
inent for a great service" and her voice
trcmbled.
"ENactly." he replied; II don't want
, anything from you, because it would be
too much like trade, so I'll Just job
along bit and beg my supper from
somebody | haven't benefited. When
people exchange gifts, You know, they
lose the flavor of both"
''Do stop a moment" she exclaimed,
as he turned away. "My father can
get You work, any nice sort you would
likc-as a clerk, or policeman, or at
anything. That would he so much bet
ter than tranping, in spite of all yor
say. Do, please, let him."
Il am too lazy to work, fear"
"But can't bear 10 think that, after
all you've done for me, You should bt
kicked and abused at back-dores a'
tramps are
"Iou are very Kind Young lady,
replied the tramp, while his voice trem
bled. either with tears or some Other
emotion. "bui you need not fret. As
for the abuse. that is nothing but &
symptom of the moral dyspepsia which
wcll-to-do people get from eating bread
which they are not suro is rightly theirs
and as for kicks, don't get em-rm
too big"
"lou must let me do something fol
you, it's mean not to-" she cried, almost
angrily, her whole generous little sou
boiling over in indignant gratitude.
DWELL, if you pnt ii on that ground" !"
; said the tramp, turning squarely around
TO her, 'thcrc is one thing would like
I'm afraid you'll think it too much, but
ii would be a great comfort, and stay
| by me longer than anything else ] can
think Of"
| "What is it?'' she demanded, in Q
tone that was promise.
. "lts desirableness occurred to me
: when you were lying asleep this after,
noon," pursued the tramp in his grave
, way. "Will You let me Kiss you"
For sole reply Miss Livingston turn.
cd her cheek, The tramp kissed il,
turned and disappeared with swim steps
In the darkness, and she wont on TO