The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1886-01-21
The TRAMPS.
BY EDWIN GoADDY.

BY EDWIN GOADBY.
Is there any more enjoyable feeling in
life than TO be under a bright morning sky,
comfortably equipped, on the tramp
through pleasant country. world OF
meadows-a rocky dale--a stretch of brown,
biliowy moorland2 The pulse beats freely,
thoughts chase each other like summer
butterflies, and you seem to annex every
pretty or wild bit of scenery, every quaint
homestead, every living thing about you,
with an enlarged and conquering indiyidu-
ality. Crowds Cypress, cities tire, books
weary; but on the tramp you are free to en-
Joy to receive. and to romance. The junior,
tramp, however. is a limited individual,
and he never gets far away from society
and civilization in our island home. The
senior tramp, on the contrary, takes ship
OYER sea, and has a wider range. He is
everywhere at home. This elder brother Is
Justly entitled n traveller; the junior has to
be content with the less ambitious and
sometimes shady designation of tramp.
Wandering and little known tribes are not
for him. He foots it mt home, with good
hope of reaching railways and hotels some
where, if he turns his back upon them with
fine scorn, and a philosophy warranted to
endure for twelve or fourteen hours, but
good enough while it lasts, and renewable
with morning light.
Alas there are others on the tramp,
whose philosophy has little warrant at all,
and whose burdens are ever pressing, not
gayly left behind Apart from fine scenery,
Freedom, and rude health, it is in chance
meetings with such specimens of the junior
tramp, bright or dull-eyed, that an observ-
ing man will find much of the romance of
his revolt against acres of bricks and NOR
Al. L.. % 1,vs
sion just made is an induction from pref
ty1arge experience.
The bright-eyed tramp is always man
with an object and a character. He has
either a home before him or behind, to
reach or to brighten. He will converse
freely with you. tell you his history, and
accept little kindnesses in a manly spirit.
The dull-eyed man does not like you to
look him in the face too closely. Scenery
seems to Cypress him. He ambles along
through the finest bits as if he were passing
down back slum. He is waif; he has
no home-only a native parish. He begs,
whines, DULLES, and / fear he also steals;
so true is il that home has its subtle effect
on the eye, the character, and the concep-
ton of Nature. Meeting such men on
lonely moor, we ask ourselves what re-
strains them from robbing, and perhaps
numbering? The answer comes clear:
"The other idea that sways their minds,
the LAW" Cruel Nature, and almost omni-
present Law-these are the only two ideas
that rule them.
Walking across lonely moor, the white
road winding ribbon-like over distant
brown hills, was once thinking, in
dreamy way, over some scenes in Scotch
history, wherein the sound of pibroch
suddenly filed an apparently deserted hill
side with human life, when two men, who
had been lying on the dry roadway, max
ding pillow of their boots, started up, and
sent my heart into my mouth. / was never
$50 startled in all my life, for it seemed as
H my thoughts had been heard. Looking
straight into their steady eyes, and noting
there hopeful look, though the men were
almost as startled as / was. said:
Good morning. How's work, mates?"
1T was policeman's hint | was acting
upon. To know anything about a man, he
had told me-his name, occupation, object
always gives you certain command over
him in critical moment. Exchanging
glances, the tramps answered:
"Bad-awful bad! Do you know of n
Job, gov'nor?"
/ wished / did. They were making
new road seven miles off at P; they
might inquire there.
hOTh-bCChtIS uIb Olltu lHObl
pathetic.
"What, you ON the tramp" was my re-
mark one day to young fellow, out at ell
bows, and with frayed garments, who WIS.,
tied me at home, handing me an envelope
addressed to him in my own handwriting
Yes; he had lost his situation in n cotton
mill IN Lancashire, and had trudged south
westward through many counties round 10
London, and then through the Midlands,
without getting single job. OF late he
had not tried; his clothing forbade it. He
was clever; hard, philosophic student; an
original man in every way. Yet he had
been herding with the meanest, sleeping
anywhere, mostly out-of- doors, living in
aboriginal fashion on raw vegetables, and
occasionally sharing what others begged.
His wife and child had gone home to her
friends, and he had never heard of them
for nine months, though he had written TO
his wife ut first regularly. She might be
dead.
How had he endured it all? He could
scarcely say. He dare not think. Then
followed n charming bit. AS he had
tramped along, il had been his custom TO
recite all the prose and poetic passages he
coud remember from his favorite authors
ami he had well-stored memcry-to
preserve his identify" to prevent him
from sinking TO the low conversational
level of his queer and casual companions
Occasionally others would repeat the little
poems they had learned as children al
school: sometimes "fash" ballads, bought
in penny sheets at fairs. One companion
had stuck to him for months, and
whenever my friend seemed TO be dull, OF
the way was dreary, or people were uncivil
this seedy-black- coated "chum" would say
20 .,im: