Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1886-01-21
The TRAMPS.
BY EDWIN eoADBY.

Is there any more enjoyable feeling in
life than to be under a bright morning sky,
comfortably equipped, on the tramp
through a pleasant country: world of
meadows-a rocky dale-a stretch of brown,
billowy moorland? 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 individu-
ality. Crowds oppress, 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
over sea, and has a wider range. He is
everywhere at home. This elder brother is
Justly entitled 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 ct home, with good
hope of reaching railways and hotels some
where, if he turns his back upon them with
fine scorn, and philosophy warranted to
endure for twelve or fourteen hours, but
good enough while it lasts, and renewable
with morning light.
Alasl 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 o1
| his revolt against acres of bricks and NOR
| tar and the elbowing of crowds The divi.
sion lust made is an induction from pret-
| ty large experience.
The bright-eyed tramp is always a mar
with an object and a character. He has
either home before him or behind, tC
reach or to brighten. He will converse
freely with you, tell you his history, ant
accept little kindnesses in manly spirit
| The dull-eyed man does not like you tC
| look him in the face too closely. Scenery
| seems to oppress him. He ambles along
| through the finest bits as if he were passing
| down a back slum. He is waif; he hat
| no home-only a native parish. He begs
| whines, bullies, and 1 fear he also steals
| so true is il that home has its subtle effec
| on the eve, 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 omnl
present Law-these are the only two idea
| that rule them.
Walking across lonely moor, the whit,
road winding ribbon-like over distan
brown hills, / was once thinking, in
dreamy way, over some scenes in Scotcl
history, wherein the sound of a pibrocl
suddenly filled an apparently deserted hill
side with human life, when two men, VIII
had been lying on the dry roadway, max
ing a pillow Of their boots, started up, an,
sent my heart into my mouth. was neve
so startled in oil my life, for it seemed a
if my thoughts had been heard. Looking
| straight into their steady eyes, and notinI
almost as startled as i was, said:
"Good- morning. How's work, mates?"
It was q policeman's hint / was actin
upon. To know anything about man, b
had told me-his name, occupation, object
always gives you certain command owe
him in a critical moment. Exchangin
glances, the tramps answered.:
"Bad-awful bad! Do you know of
job, gov'nor?"
| 1 wished did. They were making
new road seven miles off at P; the
might inquire there.
| Work-seekers' stories are often mos
pathetic.
"What, you on the tramp?" was my re
mark one day to young fellow, out at el
bows, and with frayed garments, who Wis
tied me at home, handing me an envelop
addressed to him in my own handwriting
Yes; he had lost his situation in cotto
mill in Lancashire, and had trudged south
westward through many counties round I
London, and then through the Midland:
without getting single job. OF late b
had not tried; his clothing forbade it. II
was clever; hard, philosophic student; a
original man in every way. Yet he ha
been herding with the meanest, sleepin
anywhere, mostly out of doors, living j
aboriginal fashion ON raw vegetables, an
occasionally sharing what others begged
His wife and child had gone home TO he
friends, and he had never heard of thei
for nine months, though he had written
his wife at lrst regularly. She might I
dead.
How had he endured il ALP He coul
scarcely say. He dare not think. The
followed q charming bit. As he ha
tramped along, IL had been his custom
recite all the prose and poetic passages
could remember from his favorite author
and he had a well-stored memory
preserve his "identity," to prevent hii
from sinking TO the low conversation
level of his queer and casual companion
Occasionally others would repeat the lit
poems they had learned as children
school: someti mes "fash" ballads, bougl
I'm penny sheets at fairs. One companio
had stuck to him for months, an
whenever my friend seemed to be dull,
the way was dreary, or people were uncivi
this seedy black coated "chum" would 81