The representative. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1893-1901, 1896-04-29
THE TRAMP's TRAGEDY.

Wr1Uen Tor the Representative.
A level expanse of track, with long
parallel lines of glistening rails, illu-
mined by the pale weird autumn moon
light, that glimered over all.
A heavy hoar frost covered the ties,
and the Tramp's shoes craunched loudly
on them. as he wendell his aimless way
On every side rose the cold bare earth of
the railroad cut, with huge trees like
silent sentinels browning it's summit,
while away off in the deep recesses of the
woods the hooting Of some lonely owl
sent a perceivable SILVER of an unex-
plainable sensation over the tramp's
worn frame.
The tired old stoop shoulders bent low
er under the bundle containing his only
worldly possessions, and the weak old
hand trembled, as he grasped his staff
more firmly, through the many rents in
his tattered clothing the cold air found
access to torment the old withered body,
causing him to sigh and Shiver with the
cruelty of the unavoidable cold.
His long gray hair hung loosely around
the wrinkled neck, and the ill-kept beard
and sallow sunken face, with deep set
pleading, careworn eyes, that betokened
feeling Of intense play for one of the
| outcasts of this rotten social fabric.
Poor man. Years ago he was hale and
strong, looking at life, as if it were an I'M
limited extent of never ending pleasure.
Work was then plenty, and with work
came money, and with money came
| friends, and the man in those bygone,
| days was happy. But the wheel OF for
| tune turned the wrong way for him,
| when his savings we're lost through dis
honest bank failure, that filled the plu-
! tocrat's pockets with their yellow stuff,
and left our present tramp, and past in
| dependent citizen, nothing but the cold
| iron of the railroad track to seek solace
| in.
Thus, through the grasping nature,
| that rules this modern era, he found him
self penniless and destitute in his old age,
| to seek work where he might, with the
| whole world against him for his power
| tvs sake.
Tired and forlorn, he had wandered
| from state to state, begging his substance
! here and there, at times receiving mercy,
and then again harsh word, or a savage
| dog or still more to be feared, a savage
| woman would blight the prospects of the
much needed bread, until he finds him
| self within a few miles of his birthplace
where he spent the happy days of boy
! hood and youth. Every curve in the
| track has connection with the memo
ries of the past, and the very trees that
skirt the roadbed reflect now sad. but
once gay moments of youthful enjoy
ment.
| There in that grove of lindens yOnder
| on whose branches the frost sparkled
| like clustering diamonds, he was one of
| the merry crowd of school children, that
| had picnicked there, and it's friendly
shade wiled away the long summer day.
Gradually the scenery grows more and
more familiar, and upon rounding a
curve. he beholds the twinkling lights of
| the village of his birth, shining from the
windows of many happy homes. One
| light amongst them shown with an un-
told brilliancy for the tramp, for it glim-
mered family in his boyhood's bedcham-
| Der in the old homestead long since sold.
| He remembered how that light used to
| always shine for him, when returning
| from the woods, where he would spend
| days and days, gun in hand, then Its
| glimmer brought thoughts OF cosy sup
per spread in the little dining room, with
| his mother to wait upon him with tender
| care, bit now hungry and destitute it
| aroused in his soul an infinite loneliness
| and sorrow.
| WIN al lISpVIeu lHSlSIll uS bcCS lHC
| interior of the room, as it was of yOre.
There he is preparing for bed, and when
the little white nightdress is on, the door
| opens and his sweet faced gray haired
1 mother enters 20 tuck him in, with a
| .goodnight'' and God bless you, Willie"
Dear sweet old mother" he murmured.
ooh, If those happy hours could only re-
| turn. Then as if the spirits were filling
| the air with divine harmony he mag
ines he hears her low sweet voice singing
his favorite song, ooh, Where is My Will
lie Tonight
At these recollections great tears came
to the tramp's eyes, and trickled down his
| cheeks to be turned into ice on his coat
lapel. With deep choking sohs he con-
tinues on his way, nursing fixed deter
| mination not to stop in the village. II
might see some one used to know, and
for mothers sake l won't run the
chances" he contemplated, and bidding
one long sad adieu he tears himself past
his dear old home, now in the hands Of
unknown Strangers.
/ As he walked along rejecting on the
the past, that these scenes had brought
so vividly to mind, a memory came to
| him how in the better days of his life, a
grave stone had been ordered to be erect
ed on his mothers grave, and he craved
to know if the undertaken had fulfilled
| his orders Il will just have one look to
see if mother is remembered, and then
| away from my dear old home. never to
| return again in mortal FORM" he said,
| and leaving the track hurried through