Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1890-04-23
JIM, THE TRAMP.

He was bad lotl Magistrates, jail
chaplains a d police had all at various
times told him so, and he quietly ac-
cepted their judgment, knowing 1t to
he pretty near the truth. An outcast
from his very babyhood, what chance
had he ever hadl Left by an unfeellng
mother 10 die in a roadside ditch, he
had been taken to the nearest union, TO
lie brought up a household founding,
until he was old enough 10 be bound
prentice and the guardians could wash
their hands of him entirely. a drunken
saddler coyenan. ed to clothe, board and
teach him his trade; and at his hands
poor Jim had dogs life, until, goaded
to madness by every species of iIl-treat-
ment. lie struck his master and fled.
For awhile he tried hard to get work in
the villages through which he passed:
but no one would take on the strange
friendless lad, and so he made up his
mind to enlist for soldier.
If my he had reached York an hour
OF two earlier, Her Majesty's army Lad
gained useful recruit, and poor Jim
NO Id have had a chance TO rise and
become a credit TO the service. But
| ill-luck would no: let him go. He was
routed out of an old stable by a Jealous
member of the city police, and charged
next day with sleeping out night or
some equally heInous crime, the result
being that he was committed to prison
for seven days. This broke down his
last shred of Self-I est ect; and when that
happens 10 man or boy, Heaven help
| Ia IN, for his doom is sealed.
Jim came out of Jail utterly reckless,
| with a wild hatred of every body and
| ever ything. He thought no more of
soldier ing or getting work, but let him
self drift resoiutely TO the bad. He
soon got into vicious company, and be-
| fore many weeks were over was again
| in the clutches of the law. The down.
| hill road is an easy one and the pace
/ always rapid, and 50 at thirty years of
| age he was pretty widely known to the
authorities as a confirmed rogue and
| thief who would not stop at trihes
! when once he was rousel-
| Yes, there was no doubling it, he was
an out-and-out bad loti And he looked
it, tco, as he slouched along the cCuh-
| try lane with hands deep in his empty
| pockets and his head bent to meet the
rain, which the November wind drove
| in his face. But he Was too much used
to discomfort to heed the weather, and
plodded sullenly on through the puG-
dles in the deepening gloom, half
asleep. and so utterly careless of every
| thing around that lie never heard the
beat of hoofs until a CHEEKY voice cried:
Now, my good fellow, if you do not
want the whole road to yourself, per-
haps YOU will let me pass
Jim never looked around, but skunk
closer to the dripping hedgerow, ex-
pecting the horseman to ride on with
out another word, but something quite
unexpected happened. tor the CHEEKY
voice said: 'Thanks!'
1t was the first time any one had ever
thanked the good-for-notling, and he
stared up in blank amaZement, and saw
a man of about his own age, III red coat
and top-boots, plentifully bespattered
with mud, looked down at him from
the back Of a weight-carrying hunter
without the least gleam OF aversion OF
suspicion on his pleasant. fIesh-colored
| face.
| You look rather done up; been long
on the roadr'
| "A week an morel' Tie reply was
surly enough, not that Jim resented the
question, but simply because he was SO
used TO insults aud rough speaking that
the idea of blooming SWELL speaking
civllly 10 such as lie took him utterly
by surprise.
Going home?'
Jim gave a contemptuous grunt.
Never had yam, Guv'nor!'
''t'oOr chap! But you live some
where, L suppose?'
oh, yes'-with a grim chuckle Il
lived somewheI es-anyw Use not
Like some folks. must have everythin2
up-top. No; that's not my style. Ye've
a big house, in curse, and lots OF
slaveys to walt ON We. / lives just
where | can, and has TO fend for my sen.
and don't often get my meals reg lar.
And the cruel contrast between him
self and his companion filled the tramp's
heart with bitter thoughts. Why have
some folks all tue good things of life
an / others none of them? H re was a
man no older thsn himself with fine
clothes on his back and horse to carry
him; whilst he, poor fellow, had TO
trudge along ankle deep in the mud
with scarcely whole thread to cover
him. Why. the very horse was a long
way better off and more cared for; il at
least had a warm, dry stable and plenty
of food waiting Tor it, whilst he had
never a reSting-place nor a crust of
bread to eat
Again the cieery kind tones startled
him: But YOU have friends somewhere,
l supposeI'
No; not me! There's never a single
soul, guv'nor, IN this wide world as
cares a rap for me; and when L lies
down some day and dies in a ditch,
lLhere'll IIoan be, man, woman or child,
as III miss me. None III be sorry,
'ceptin' the parish buns as III have to
put me under ground, and they'll
yrudge doing of tlat even.' Jim gave
short, ugly laugh and slouched on,
The water squish, squish. squishlng out
1f the gaping rents OF his old boots al
very step. H. quite expected the
swell to ride off now and leave him to
The rapiiIy-deepening gloom and the
wild, cherries night; but the horse ~as
Kept steadily alongside OF him, and his
rider spoke again.
! Can't you get into regular work and
teave This tramp business?'