The record-union., 1891-07-04
Jim, THE TRAMP.


near the truth. An outcast from his very
boyhood, what chance had he ever had?
Left by an unfeeling mother to die in d
roadside ditch, he had been taken to the
nearest Union, to be brought upa work
house foundling, until he was old enough
to be bound prentice and the guardians
could wash their hands of him entirely.
A drunken saddler covenanted to clothe,
board and teach his trade; and at his
hands poor Jim had a dogs life, until,
goaded by madness by. every species OF
i'll treatment he struck his master and
fed. Fora while 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 a soldier.
If he had reached York an hour or two
earlier, her najesty,s army had gained a
useful recruit, and poor jim, would have
had chance to riSeiand become a credit
to the serVices But i'll luck would not
let him go. He was routed out OF. an old
stable by jealous member of the city
police, and charged next day with sleep
ing out at night, or some equally henious
crime, the result being that he was COM
mitted to prison for seven days, This
broke down his last shred of self-respect,
and when that happens to man or boy,
heaven help him, for his doom is sealed.
Jim came out Of Jail utterly reckless,
with a wild hatred of every body and
everything. He thought no more of
soldering or getting work, but let him
self drift resolutely TO the bad. He soon
got into vicious company, and before
many weeks were over was again in the
clutches OF the law. The down-hill road
is an easy one, and the pace always
CT q of I, r.1c
pretty widely known to the authorities
as confirmed rogue and thief, who
would not stick at trif1es when once he
| was reused.
Yes, there was no doubling it, he was
an out and out bad lot. And he looked
| 1t, too, as he slouched along the country
| lane with hands deep in his empty pock-
| cts and his head bent to meet the rain
which November winds drovei in his face.
| But he was too much used to discomfort
to heed the weather, and plodded sull-
emily on through the puddles in the deep
ening gloom, half asleep, and so utterly
careless of everything around that he
never heard the beat of hoofs until a
CHEEKY voice cried: Now, my good fell
| low, if you do not want the whole road
| to yourself, perhaps you will let me
pass"
Jim never looked round, expecting the
horseman to ride on without another
word, but something quite unexpected
happened, for the CHEEKY voice said,
| '"Thanksp'
1t was the first time anyone had ever
thanked the good-for-n nothing, and he
stared up in blank amazeInent, and saw
man Of about his own age, in red coat
and top boots plentifully bespattered
with mud, looking down at him from the
| bac k of a weight-carrying hunter without
the least gleam OF aversion or suspicion
on his pleasant, fresh-colored face
You look rather done up. Been long
on the road?'
"a week an more!' The reply was
surely enough-not that Jim resented the
| question, but simply because he was so
used to insults and rough speaking that
the idea of a blooming swelP' speaking
| civilly to such as he took him utterly by
surprise.
where is your homer"
Jim gave contemptuous grunt
Never ha yam, guV' nor!"
| Poor chap! But you live somewhere,
suppose?"
"Oh, yes" with grim chuclzle, ST live
somewhere = anywhere. I'se not like
some folks must have everything tip-top.
No; that's not my style. You've a big
house, in course, and lots Of slaveys to
wait on ye. lives just where l can, and
has to fend for mysen, and don't often get
my meals reg lar"
Anu IuG cruel COnJrdSG between NM
self and his companion filed the tramp's
heart with bitter thoughts. Why have
! some folks all. the good things of life and
! others none of them? Here was man
no older than himself with fine clothes
on his back and horse to carry him,
! while he. poor fellow, had to trudge
! along ankle deep in the mud with scarcely
whole thread to cover him. Why, the
/ very horse was long way better off and
more cared for; it at least had a warm,
| dry stable and plenty of food waiting for
1t, while he had never a resting place nor
crust of bread TO eat.
Again the CHEEKY, kind tones startled
him: But you have friends somewhere,
l SUPPOSE"
mo, not me! There's never a single
soul, guv' nor, in this wide world as cares
4 rap for me; and when l lies down some
| day and dies in a ditch, there'lI moan be,
| man, woman or child, ASH bliss me.
| None'n be sorry, 'ceptin' the parish
| buns as'H have to put me underground,
and they'll grudge doing of that even.' y
Jim gave short, ugly laugh and slouched
| on, the water squish quish, gushing out
of the gaping rents of his old boots at
| every step. He quite expected the
| ''swelf' to ride off now and leave him to
the rapidly deepening gloom and the
| wild, cheerless night, but the horse was
| kept steadily alongside of him, and his
/ rider spoke again.
Cant you get into regular work and
leave this tramp business?"
mo. There's none'll have the likes of
me. / don't look respectful enough"
| Nonsense, man. Don't get down on
your luck, but pick yourself up. Now,
| look here-I will give you a chance my
/ self, if you will take it."
| Jim could not believe his ears, Some
! one actually talking to him as if he was
/ an honest man, and not some sort of YER
| min or yenomous beast. A real ''tip-top
| gentleman" too. He must be muddled.
| But the brown eyes were looking coolly
enough at him. and their owner was say
| ing, We'll, what do you say?"
''Yer don't know what be. Pm bad
lot! pye been in quod oft enough" blur
/ ted out Jim, feeling somehow he could not
take his new-found patron in.
Il dare say you have, and deserved it,
too. But | believe you can pull round
yet if you like; and, as l said, will give
you the chance of regular work and pay.
VIII you take it?''
In the depth of Jim's warped nature
there glimmered something like spark
of gratitude ana dim longing after new
life for moment; but old habits were too
strong for him, and the clouds closed
darker again as he shook his head and
said in tones which tried to be civil:
No, guY' nor; yer mean well; but it's
no go now. Pm no good for anything
but cadging and tramping, an / moan
want to work for any master-an' won't
either"
He expected an angry lecture and round
! abuse for refusing, but the other said
quietly, str0king his boot with the han
die of his hunting crop:
THAT is dangerous way of thinking,
my friend, and will get you into trouble
again. You are fool not to try and pull
up Int; but you know your own affairs
best. Well, here is supper and bed