St. Paul daily globe., 1892-11-27

pose of it before the frost comes. for the
fIvst is the greatest foe OF the homeless
Bohemian.
Sometimes. but very rarely, the man
who lives OIL nothing day may dlne.
he has penny he can buy bun. III
he possesses more, he WendS his way
eagerly 10 one or those charming resorts
on the well-known thoroughfare that
humorously term themselves economic
al restaurants 1t he secures dollar.
he owns the world-to the extent of
dollar. Presidents must rule for hi NJ.
workmen must slave for him, COOKS
must broil for him-all, naturally, to
the extent of dollar only.
1t is gala day for the man who lives
on nothing when he may dine table
d'hote on the Buwery. To enter one of
the places where the Bowery table
d'hote is served in four courses you
must descend flight of wooden steps.
Sawdust is scattered over the floor OF
the basement.
The regular patrons of these estab-
lishmentS belong to lower grade of so
ciety than do the men who live on moth
ing day, for the latter are merely poor,
and there are much lower stages than
poverty and deStltution.
Now and then white-faced man in
faded clothing may be seen quickly to
descend these steps, casting first half
abashed glance about him tu see if lie is
observed. But the daily patron enters
boldly. He appears coatleSS and hat
less; he slams his elbows upon the table
he comments loudly upon everything,
and carries Ona continuous and quarrel
some barter with the walters. The i'm
pudent and ragged beggar also descends
the steps. who, through opportunity.
has obtained the price of a meal.
Though one would not suppose SO from
his appearance, yet 10 one could be
more fastidioUs and critical than this
being.
He complains of the flavor of his
coffee, he is particular to q nicety con-
cerning the amount Of gravy he wishes
served with his meat. He would return
half the dishes served him, but he knows
the WaIer would not bring him others
in their stead.
1t is curious to note the dispositions
prevalent among the men who live Oil
nothing day. Some are depressed and
dull; some are fairly wrung with misery
others are callous and Indifferent; 9TH
ers are defiant, and yet others are reck-
leSSly merry.
There is probably not more philo-
than is the old Texan who abides in the
City Hall park. He rivals Anaxagoras in
his reflections upon tile frailteS and fol-
lies ofman For eight hours he sleeps up
on bench, for eight hours he doZes over
an old newspaper, and the other eight
he devoteS TO his Wanderings about the
CITY IG IS surprising, says he, upon
what lnodlcum OF food man can live.
AND III his quaint and primitive way he
compares his present life to that of a
wildcat hunted in the Texas bottoms,
which, when it can no longer escape,
will fight for its bare existence to the
very last. He is old, but still happy
and contented n.nothing a day.
In the Battery there dwells a member
OF the defiant type, who has calmly ar
rived aJ the deliberate conclusion that
he will no longer work. He is not, as
might be supposed, an anarchist, com
munlSt or aUtonOmiSt. He knows moth
ing OF the questions of capital and labor,
OF or social reform, and he cares to know
nothing OF them. He cares nothing for
the city. state, church, religion or pesti-
fence. lie is indifferent to everything
human or divine. He hates mankind
by reason Of the injuries and rebuffs be
has received from man. He has dwelt
SO JoDg OH these injuries. real or con-
celved, that they have taken hold of his
mind to the exclusion of every other
thought. tie has developed into the
most sullen OF all misanthropes, but still
he maintains that it is the duty of hui
manity to see that he be kept alive.
Such is the species of that vast and
ephemeral brotherhood. Some few. per
haps, will rise above the life, but the
greater part in time will lose even the
remnant of caste and sink to lower
depths forever.