The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1894-09-11

The good old days" are no lie-in
trsmpdom, at least. Time was. about
twenty years ago. Just after the panic of
1873, when the poor man out of work.,
was much pitied, treated as an unfor-
innate. I can swear to the fact that oc-
cssionally he was asked by some extra
kind hearted country-woman whether he
wanted butter and apple butter on one
side or on both sides of the hunk of bread
he was to receive.
Still further back--ffty years ago, 100
wears ago, 200 years ago-tramping in
Europe was a legitimate practice, in
duced by imperious custom. After alb
solving a long apprenticeship, the young
man who had learned a trade was ex-
pected to travel as extensively
as possible; to visit the places
where his trade fourished, or which
had acquired a reputation for ex-
cellence of workmanship in special
branches. Then railroads and steam
boats were not yet; travelling by stage
coach was beyond the means of the per
ambulating shoemaker or tailor; they
generally Travelled afoot in companies of
two, three, four and more, sometimes in
droves And sometimes the whole drove
was D6Uull6SS. QE1hGu " tAeEClSG Lle arL
of begging. No disgrace attach ed to the
begging practice of travelling journeyusen
Rigid custom compelled them to travel
What wonder If the poor fellows, often
miserably paid while working, found
their pockets empty soon after starting
out on the road again. Even the thickest
headed peasant, though he might refuse
TO contribute his mite, could not dispute
the wanderers right to beg. And among
the travellers it was considered chic to
be a successful beggar, or "Fechter."
TRAPPING IN FRANCE.
During my apprenticeship as compos.
itor in France, my employer sometimes
RECALLED me with wonderful tales of his
experiences while traversing Europe
afoot, generally begging his way, many
years before, This filed me with a
strange longing to do likewise, and in my
infatuation l even went so far as To pre-
pare myself for the hardships of a trav-
cling life by sleeping on the hard floor in
stead of in bed, and by going hungry for
one and two days. pretending to be sick,
merely TO test my powers of endurance
But when at last ''the hour of free
DOM struck and 1 started on my roam
ing I was soon filled with disgust at
its dizziness. Of the old conditions moth
ing seemed to have remained but the low
wages, There was no Jolly companions,
nv fellow travellers were either despond-
ent or questionable characters; beer or
wine was no longer to be had for song ;
the gendarmerie and the peasants were
disposed to treat all foot travellers as va
grants. 1t seemed to me that the rail
roads must, with a rush, have scattered
disquiet distrust and discomfort every
where; they seemed to have destroyed
romance and the possibility of romance.
l still longed for romance, however, and
therefore emigrated to the United States,
where I was told gold and adventure
were plentiful.
WALKING THOUSANDS OF MILES.
found romance-no gold. There is am
pie room and opportunity for adventure
in this Countrywide Lord bless\ it! Dur
ing X he first thirteen years of my stay
here Travelled always afooJ and nearly
always alone) from the Atlantic coast to
Minnesota, over the then very sparsely
settled prairies down to Texas, to Can
ada, back TO Texas, through every state
of the south, north again, south again.
tens of thousands of miles, do not know
how many; but do know that in 1884
within less than one year. footed over
$500 miles During my rowing time I was
often half starved, half persisted from
ack of water, half frozen, drenched to
the skin, sore and sick-bitter
condiments. But the life had its
plQuancy also. 1t is quite exciting
TO have to run before drunken In
dams, to suddenly find ones self in the
presence of a nine-foot alligator and to
have to swim for life away from such a
beast, to nearly step on rattlers or other
snakes again and again, to be halted as a
spy by moonshiners. to doze of by the
campfire to the music of cayotes or boot
ing owls and chorus OF minor musicians,
to pass grand prairie and forest
fires, to have a panther bowling and
prowling around the camp all night, ETC.,
etc.
Above all delighted to roam over the
vide prairie, through the immense virgin
forests and the lonely mountain regions
places exercises singularly soothing in
Euence.
A WILLING HAND AT MANY TRADES.
when work of any kind is to be had
begging is disreputab len-that was my
motto. l Travelled very cheapIy; but
sometimes the money would give out.
linen took any kind of work for short
Tune. Thus, have been a miner, section
hand on railroads, brickmaker. compost
tor, gardener, farm hand, editor of coun-
Try newspapers, cook, fireman, engineer,
deck hand on boat, etc, etc. BY camp
ing out at night could live very com fort
aoly on % cents day. In the morning
bought a l0-cent lunch at some farm
mouse always at farm house,. and was
oiJen treated to cup or two of coffee; at
olnner-tlme | got cents worth of milk
and bread and sometimes had meat and
vegetables thrown in; in the even
ing bought another 10-cent lunch.
sometimes, however, [ was COM
PEELED TO economic. For instance.
travelled from Natchez to Meridian, Miss,
ABOUT $50 niles on 45 cents, all told. and
without any begging. The firso three
udys lived on one l0-cent lunch per day
anu the last three days on one scent
luhca per day. Certainly, when on the
evening of the sixth day, I arrived in
Nerdlan, l was in rather shaky condi-
.lou. Generally, however, paid so cents
LOT supper, bed and breakfast at some old
homestead; sometimes, just because
was no beggar. the host would accept
oIIy % cents, or even fatty refuse TO
1ahe pay at all. All how grandly pleas
auI IL was TO sit by the cherry fire. blaz-
tng IN the open hearth of some old log
souse In the south, after a twenty
I'VE or thirty mile march perhaps
GITougn cutting winter winds or rain
low good my simple hosts nearly always
we're and how they seemed to be de-
tsfleQ with my accounts of far-of
Places 10 the mouutaineer, who per-
laps mad never left his state, my arrival
was, no doubt, often welcome as a relief
W the tedium of his monotonous exist
II