Daily Kennebec journal., 1894-12-17
THE TRAMP'S HALT.

The battered hat pulled down over his
ewes hardly shaded his rough facs, most OF
which was covered with coarse, bristling
beard. As he shambled on through the
heat and dust his eyes were fixed on the
ground, but now and then he raised his
head slightly and took rapid glance over
the fields and up to the distant hills.
Presently he reached slight bend In
the road, and, rounding this, approached
a small franc house, situated on his right
hand, a short distance back from the road.
A small, well kept lawn surrounded the
house and was shaded by large trees, which
seemed to watt refreshing coolness to the
travel stained wayfarer.
As be neared the place his steps slacken.
ed; finally he stopped, and, leaning his
arms-on the low picket fence, looked long
and earnestly at the house. No one was
visible, and the stiffness, pierced only by
the shrill, metallic music of the locusts
down in the fields, seemed to oppress him.
He moved little uneasily, then went
down to the gate, entered the yard, care
fully closing the gate after him, and after
standing irresolutely a few moments walk
ed across the lawn.
AS he rounded the corner Of the house a
little terrier rushed at him, yelping shrill
defiance and calling to the door Of the
kitchen tall woman of perhaps 30 years
of age Her iron gray hair, brushed
straight back from her forehead, was
caught in u knot at the crown of her head
and held in place by a steel comb. At the
first glance she might have been called an
''angular" woman, which expression usu-
ally conveys the impression of an angu-
lar disposition, but the severe plainness OF
her appearance was relieved by her eyes.
Soft gray they were, with kind little wrin-
kles around them, and they looked now at
tho strange figure before her through spec
tacles, with twinkle Of qUizzical sym
pathy.
Quieting with sharp word the Jealous
dog, which was still yelping around the
tramp, she leaned against the doorpost,
driving her hands on u coarse towel and
surveying with slight smile of pity, shad-
ed with contempt, the ragged specimen of
humanity who stood there awkwardly, the
battered remnant of hat grasped in one
hand and gazing at her with a look which
might have indicated sullenness or respect.
swell, what dye want, my man?
reckon somethin to eat an drink'd about
suit We, ehf Jest you set down on the step
there, an I'll see what can do fer ye. !
never could scare up much affection fer
tramp somehow, but l try to follow the
Scriptural advice bout the cup O. cold
water, an mebbe that was meant t. include
pie, eff any was handy"
Not noticing the gesture Of dissent from
the tramp, she turned into the kitchen
and presently came back with bowl oil
milk and an immense piece of dried apple
pie, which she placed before her guest,
telling him to "set down an pitch in"
The wanderer, though evidently not
suffering from hunger, ate and drank with
apparent but not unrestrained enjoyment.
The woman sat down on the step above
him and watched him eat with an amused,
nearsighted expression.
''Another thing makes me kinder feel
fer you tramps is my boy bein gone.
Nigh onto eight years now since l kissed
him goodby down by the gate yonder, an
he started off SO brave an hopefullike.
Lord, how proud was of him, goin away
to make fortune fer his mother, but ]
thought my heart would burst as seen
him disappear round the bend in the road
up there, a-wavin his hand to me, standip
lookin over the gate'' 90
"Where did he go?" asked the tramp,
who was crouching on the step with bent
head. The woman's eyes were fixed OF
the blue hills in the distance, and she did
not notice him. g..
'Out west. Got it into his head he cd
make pile O. money out there, an I
thought SO, too, cause Tom was right
smart lad an steady as a rock. An his
letters was hopeful, too, but I haven't
hcerd from him now these six years. His
fathers dead, too-died three year age
from a horse kick, so I'm alone"
Her voice grew tremulous, but she
frightened again.
Sometimes, settin out there in front O.
the house after tea, l doze off, kinder
dreamin, an then think can see Tom
comm up to the gate, back to his old moth
er, him grown man. An when wake
up always feel cold, an have little cry
to myself, an then I'm all right again. fel
know I'll meet him up there when
Maybe he's not dead He might have
gone wrong said the tramp without rails
ing his head.
MY Tom go wrong? Why, man, eff my
boy was alive today I'm sure he'd be hon
est an good as l am I'm settin here.
You re down in the world; but, not know
in the facts, l amt sayin but what 1t
mightn't "a been all your fault. But CT
you'd known my boy as do you'd never
believe he cd go wrong. It's all 1 have
now-my faith in my religion an my
faith in my boy-an If anything shook
either I'd rather not live.''
For several minutes they sat silent,
struggling with the thoughts that came
upon them.
Slowly the wanderer rose.
"Thank you for the meal, missus. I'm
goin on" And he turned and walked
slowly toward the gate, the little terrier,
uInotiosd, barking at his heels.
Passing through the gate, he latched it
carefully, and without turning his head
started up the road at his old slouching
gait, his hands thrust deep in the pockets
of his trousers, his head bent forward, his
shuffling feet kicking up clouds dt dust,
which settled behind him as he passed, as
though to obliterate his footsteps.
The woman, who had cone to the gate,
stood there and gazed after him, her hand
shading her eyes.
The tramp made no sign until he reached
the bend in the road There he stopped
half turned and looked back for q moment,
then disappeared round the bend. Had it
not been for the dust the woman might
have seen him wave his hand.-New York
Telegram e.