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diff --git a/45640-h/45640-h.htm b/45640-h/45640-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d941357 --- /dev/null +++ b/45640-h/45640-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6393 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Beggars, by W. H. (William Henry) Davies</title> + <style type="text/css"> + +/* *** CSS block *** */ +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + line-height: 125%; + background-color: #fafad2; /* CSS 3.0+: LightGoldenRodYellow */ +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; + line-height: 125%; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +.h1-sim { + text-align: center; + font-weight: bold; + font-size: 200%; + line-height: 125%; +} + +.h2-sim { + text-align: center; + font-weight: bold; + font-size: 150%; + line-height: 125% +} + +.h3-sim { + text-align: center; + font-weight: bold; + font-size: 120%; + line-height: 125%; +} + +.h4-sim { + text-align: center; + font-weight: bold; + line-height: 125%; +} + +.largefont { font-size: large; } +.smallfont { font-size: small; } + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +hr.small { width: 25%; } +hr.tb { width: 45%; } +hr.chap { width: 65%; } +hr.full { width: 95%; } + +.pagenum { + visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} + +.center { + text-align: center; +} + +.right { + text-align: right; +} + +.smcap { + font-variant: small-caps; +} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote { + background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:smaller; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + +.transnote p { + text-indent: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Full-page illustration */ +.single-page-image { + text-align: center; + page-break-before: always; + page-break-after: always; + margin: 3em 0; +} + +/* Indented paragraphs */ +.indent2 { margin-left: 2em; } +.indent4 { margin-left: 4em; } + +/* Table of Contents formatting */ +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.tdr { text-align: right; } +.tdc { text-align: center; } + +th { + font-size: large; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: 1em; +/* border-bottom-style: solid; + border-width: thin; */ +} + +td { + text-align: left; + padding-right: 2em; +} + +.space-above { margin-top: 4em; } + +.section { + page-break-before: always; +} + +.elbow-room { + margin-left: 4em; + margin-right: 4em; +} + +div.pg { line-height: 100%; } + hr.pg { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div class="pg"> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Beggars, by W. H. (William Henry) Davies</h1> +<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a +href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></p> +<p>Title: Beggars</p> +<p>Author: W. H. (William Henry) Davies</p> +<p>Release Date: May 13, 2014 [eBook #45640]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEGGARS***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by Chris Curnow, Steven Calwas,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> + from page images generously made available by<br /> + Internet Archive<br /> + (<a href="https://archive.org">https://archive.org</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive. See + <a href="https://archive.org/details/beggars00davi"> + https://archive.org/details/beggars00davi</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +</div> +<!-- Book cover --> +<div class="single-page-image"> + <a href="images/cover.jpg"> + <img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Book Cover"/> + </a> + <br/> +</div> + +<!-- Title page / Intro --> +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> + +<p class="h1-sim">BEGGARS</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> + +<p class="center"><i>All Rights Reserved</i></p> +<hr class="chap"/> + +<!-- Image of author --> +<div class="single-page-image"> + <a href="images/author.jpg"> + <img src="images/author-small.jpg" alt="Author Photo"/> + </a> + <br/> +</div> + +<!-- Title page / Full --> +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> + +<h1>BEGGARS</h1> + +<p class="center space-above">BY</p> +<p class="center largefont">W. H. DAVIES</p> +<p class="center smallfont">AUTHOR OF<br/> +"THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SUPERTRAMP," "THE SOUL'S DESTROYER,"<br/> +"NATURE POEMS," ETC.</p> + +<div class="space-above center"> + <a href="images/cover-decoration.png"> + <img src="images/cover-decoration-small.png" alt="Decorative Image"/> + </a> +</div> + +<p class="center space-above">DUCKWORTH & CO.</p> +<p class="center">3, HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN</p> +<p class="center">1909</p> + +<hr class="chap"/> + +<!-- Table of Contents --> +<div class="section"></div> +<p class="h2-sim">CONTENTS</p> +<table summary=""> + <tr> + <td colspan="3" class="tdr smcap">Page</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">I.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#The-Nationalities-as-Beggars">The Nationalities as Beggars</a></td> + <td class="tdr">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">II.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#A-Tramps-Camp-in-Texas">A Tramps' Camp in Texas</a></td> + <td class="tdr">10</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">III.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Daring-Beggars">Daring Beggars</a></td> + <td class="tdr">19</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">IV.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Dilemmas-of-Travellers">Dilemmas of Travellers</a></td> + <td class="tdr">27</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">V.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Queer-Places">Queer Places</a></td> + <td class="tdr">34</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VI.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Stiffs">Stiffs</a></td> + <td class="tdr">42</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VII.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#American-Prisons">American Prisons</a></td> + <td class="tdr">49</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Experiences-of-Others">Experiences of Others</a></td> + <td class="tdr">58</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">IX.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#The-American-Lakes">The American Lakes</a></td> + <td class="tdr">66</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">X.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#The-Happy-Life">The Happy Life</a></td> + <td class="tdr">74</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XI.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Boy-Desperadoes">Boy Desperadoes</a></td> + <td class="tdr">82</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XII.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#American-and-English-Beggars">American and English Beggars</a></td> + <td class="tdr">89</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XIII.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Beggars-Slang">Beggars' Slang</a></td> + <td class="tdr">97</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XIV.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Bonys-Wits">Bony's Wits</a></td> + <td class="tdr">105</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XV.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Favouritism">Favouritism</a></td> + <td class="tdr">114</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XVI.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#A-Law-to-Suppress-Vagrancy">A Law to Suppress Vagrancy</a></td> + <td class="tdr">122</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XVII.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Stubborn-Invalids">Stubborn Invalids</a></td> + <td class="tdr">130</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XVIII.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#The-Earnings-of-Beggars">The Earnings of Beggars</a></td> + <td class="tdr">138</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XIX.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Charity-in-Strange-Quarters">Charity in Strange Quarters</a></td> + <td class="tdr">146</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XX.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Enemies-of-Beggars">Enemies of Beggars</a></td> + <td class="tdr">154</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXI.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#The-Lowest-State-of-Man">The Lowest State of Man</a></td> + <td class="tdr">161</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXII.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#The-Lodger-Lover">The Lodger Lover</a></td> + <td class="tdr">169</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXIII.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#The-Handy-Man">The Handy Man</a></td> + <td class="tdr">176</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXIV.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#On-Books">On Books</a></td> + <td class="tdr">183</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXV.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Narks">Narks</a></td> + <td class="tdr">191</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXVI.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#The-Scribe-in-a-Lodging-house">The Scribe in a Lodging-house</a></td> + <td class="tdr">199</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXVII.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Licensed-Beggars">Licensed Beggars</a></td> + <td class="tdr">207</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXVIII.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Navvies-and-Frauds">Navvies and Frauds</a></td> + <td class="tdr">213</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXIX.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#A-First-Night-in-a-Lodging-house">A First Night in a Lodging-house</a></td> + <td class="tdr">222</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXX.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Gentleman-Bill">Gentleman Bill</a></td> + <td class="tdr">230</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXI.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Fallacies-Concerning-Beggars">Fallacies Concerning Beggars</a></td> + <td class="tdr">238</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXII.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Lady-Tramps">Lady Tramps</a></td> + <td class="tdr">247</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXIII.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Meeting-Old-Friends">Meeting Old Friends</a></td> + <td class="tdr">256</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXIV.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#The-Comparison">The Comparison</a></td> + <td class="tdr">263</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXV.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#The-Supper">The Supper</a></td> + <td class="tdr">270</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXVI.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#The-Literary-Life">The Literary Life</a></td> + <td class="tdr">278</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXVII.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#The-Sport-of-Fame">The Sport of Fame</a></td> + <td class="tdr">285</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdr">XXXVIII.</td> + <td class="smcap"><a href="#Beggars-in-the-Making">Beggars in the Making</a></td> + <td class="tdr">293</td> + </tr> +</table> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h1-sim">BEGGARS</p> +<p class="h3-sim">I</p> +<h2><a id="The-Nationalities-as-Beggars">The Nationalities as Beggars</a></h2> + +<p>There is no question but that the American beggar is the finest in +his country; but in that land of many nationalities he has a number +of old-country beggars to contend with. Perhaps it would interest—it +certainly should—a number of people to know how well or ill their +own nation is represented by beggars in that most important country; +whether England, Ireland, Scotland, Germany, and other countries have +cause to be proud or ashamed of their representatives. Both France +and Italy have much cause to complain, for you may often travel many +miles and not be approached by a French or Italian beggar. If you +meet an Italian, you can safely despise him as a working man with +hard-earned money in his pocket, though he may be stealing rides +like a beggar, and making coffee with real beggars at their camps.</p> + +<p>With regard to Germany, she can place in the field a very large army +of second-rate beggars; but it is seldom that you meet a German +beggar whose ambition raises him above that. Other nationalities, +who go to private houses and beg ready-cooked meals, despise the +German beggar for his low taste in being satisfied with no more than +common dry food. All beggars make coffee at camp-fires, but it is +only the German that takes the trouble to carry on his travels his +own tin can; for every town has near it a beggars' camp, and cans +are always to be found. The German's method is to beg the baker for +bread, the butcher for sausage, and the grocer for coffee. When +he is successful, he repairs to the camp, and makes what he calls +"an excellent meal" on these dry materials; whereas other beggars +have either had a good hot meal at a private house, or have begged +a number of paper parcels, in which is buttered bread, and there +is cake, and one parcel may have fish as a change from the meat in +another, and there is often an apple, orange, or banana for dessert. +The German does not aspire to these luxuries, and is well satisfied +to get the plain diet of his native land—without taking advantage of +the offers of a richer country—and to do no work for it. He is not +a true beggar either, for he is always ready to do odd jobs, such as +fruit or hop picking and potato digging, but is not eager for steady +work.</p> + +<p>Few people would think the Scotsman makes an excellent beggar, seeing +that his manner is so undemonstrative. Although he is seldom heard +to raise his voice above one distinct pitch, or to indulge in loud +laughter, or to show emotion of any kind, yet, for all this, he is +an excellent beggar. There is quite a large clan of Scotties among +American beggars. He is a good beggar for the simple reason that he +is a good talker. Almost every Scotch beggar I met in the States +of America was inclined to be talkative, and yet they all managed +to conceal their private affairs. Although a Scotsman would be one +of the last men to go hungry in a civilized land, yet he must be +objected to as a true beggar in that he is avaricious for money, and +would immediately take advantage of remunerative employment.</p> + +<p>Alas for the poor Irishman! for he is the most timid beggar of all. +Though he is so independent in throwing up a job, he is always glad, +when his money is gone, to seek another. How the poor fellow does +suffer hunger when seeking work, not having the courage to beg; and +how independent and forgetful he is when his appetite is satisfied. +Even the German, who as a beggar is despised by American, English, +and Scotch beggars, stands head and shoulders above poor Pat. I am +sorry to say so, but the truth of the matter is that Pat receives +charity from other beggars—English, Scotch, and such American +beggars as are proud of their Irish extraction. If these men do not +feed him, they often show him a good house where he only has to show +his face and be fed.</p> + +<p>I remember a very mean trick being served on two Irishmen, Pat and +Tim. The guilty one was a Cockney, and he was lucky to escape with +his life. Seeing at the camp two hungry and helpless Irishmen, he +promised to show them a good house, at which no beggars, however +often they came, were refused food. The elated pair accompanied +"Cockney" for this interesting purpose, and were soon shown a very +large house, at which, the Cockney said, "he had been treated with +as much consideration as though he were the Pope of Rome." He then +left them to make their own arrangements, and, after much indecision, +it was arranged that Pat should go first, and, on his return, his +companion Tim should try his luck. Pat, with every confidence, +approached the big house and rang the bell; but the door was almost +immediately opened, as though the inmate had been lying in wait. The +Irishman had scarcely opened his mouth when the man that answered +the door shouted, "What, you big, able-bodied rascal? I'll give you +something to eat," and rushed at the poor Irishman with a thick +walking-stick. This was very serious, for Pat also saw the grinning +face of a stalwart nigger behind his master, and the Irishman thought +the best thing he could do was to leave in a hurry without more +words, which he did.</p> + +<p>It quite upset Pat to think that he had been induced to go first, so +he made up his mind that Tim should share his misfortune. Therefore, +when he returned and Tim asked, "What luck, Pat?" Pat rubbed his +body, saying, "Begorra, there was more mate than five min could +ate." On hearing this good news Tim braced himself and, after a +long pause, walked with reckless determination towards the house. +But Tim had no time to ring, for the door was suddenly flung open, +and, before he could utter one word, a white man and a nigger began +to attack him with sticks. Tim did not wait to argue or fight, but +took to his heels at once. "This is a noice thrick, an' the both from +Kilkenny," said he to Pat. "Spake out," said Pat innocently, although +he had seen the whole transaction; "shure, we are frinds, and frinds +should share and share aloike." I am very pleased to say that the two +Irishmen had their reward when they returned, for three good American +beggars had thoroughly worked the town, and had in their possession +enough food for ten men—but the Cockney never returned to the camp. +It was certainly a cruel joke to play on two hungry men, innocent and +unsuspecting.</p> + +<p>The English easily come next to Americans as beggars, especially when +England is represented by the Cockney. He will often attain his ends +after failing in a cross-examination and discovered in a lie; for +his witty excuses and peculiar manner of expression are not to be +resisted by Americans. Even the Irish-Americans, who are so bitter +against Englishmen, make an exception of a Cockney, because of his +witty talk and his disinclination to be serious. This impudence and +command of speech have become proverbial among American beggars, and +he is so much liked that I have seen men, who were about to leave a +town, remain at a camp for two or three days longer, so as to enjoy +the anecdotes and queer sayings of a Cockney that has just arrived. +The Cockney—and he alone—is admired by those extraordinary beggars +who are born Americans, and who are conceited enough to think that +they could by their energies live well as beggars in the poorest +slums in the cities of Europe. Aye, even the beggars of the Western +States, who, owing to the great distances between towns, must never +be without a dollar or two in their pockets—even these energetic +beggars have great respect for a Cockney, though they scorn the petty +food-begging operations of others.</p> + +<p>I never in all my acquaintance with "Brum" saw him look so alarmed +as when he entered a camp and saw a man making coffee, and near him +was a pile consisting of a number of parcels of food. This man, who +was a Cockney, confessed that he had just begged the town—and we +soon had cause to know it, for I had great difficulty in getting one +little sandwich, and though Brum brought to the camp enough for two, +he must have had a great struggle, for he was away much longer than +usual. That he had struggled hard was apparent from his behaviour, +for in spite of the Cockney's friendly advances, Brum would hardly +give him a civil word. Yes, there was not the least doubt but what +Brum was jealous. Although we three remained in the camp together for +two days, I could not help but notice that Brum would never allow the +Cockney to get the start on him, but every time we went begging he +quickly followed the other. And what do you think this Cockney had +the impudence to say to Brum? "Old man," said he, "I'll see if I can +beg you a pair of trousers." When he heard this Brum almost foamed at +the mouth, for he prided himself on being one of the best beggars in +America, whether it was in getting money, food, or clothes.</p> + +<p>I know very little about the Welsh as beggars, as I have only met +about half a dozen in America, and they were so timid that Wales +had as little cause to be proud of them as Ireland of hers. I don't +think Welshmen take kindly to begging, for, according to my later +experience at home, half the beggars in Wales are Englishmen, though +many of them can explain themselves in Welsh, having been in the +country a considerable time. They certainly have good cause to remain +there, for Wales runs America a good second in her generosity to +beggars; as also does Ireland, but she is less able to give.</p> + +<p>No doubt Russia, Spain, Greece, Japan, and other countries have +their beggars by thousands at home, but they are ill represented in +America. England has only Germany to fear, who has six beggars to +England's one; but they have little energy and are badly trained, and +one Cockney is equal to ten.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">II</p> +<h2><a id="A-Tramps-Camp-in-Texas">A Tramps' Camp in Texas</a></h2> + +<p>It has borne in upon me lately, with great force, that in those +vagabond days at camp-fires in America I was enjoying life as it +will never be enjoyed again. I was then in a land of plenty, where +the people were so happy and good-natured that a bold beggar could +often tell them straightforward that he would not work for ten +dollars a day, which would cause more amusement than indignation, +and he would still be assisted with the best of everything. In fact, +the common necessaries of life were so easily to be obtained that +a superior beggar like Brum had to show his superiority over the +ordinary beggar like myself by begging out-of-the-way luxuries—such +as cough lozenges and chewing-gum, and a clean shirt and socks once +a week, while I washed mine in the woodland stream, and dried them +at the camp-fire, or in the wind and sun. How often have I received +unsolicited clothes and boots from houses at which I had simply asked +for meals! But when I exposed such articles at the camp, before the +eyes of other beggars, I always took the credit on myself for having +begged them, for fear of Brum's scorn. At one house where I called, +the lady wanted her garden cleared of fallen leaves, and offered me +twenty-five cents and my breakfast to sweep the said leaves into a +corner and set fire to them, which could be done in half an hour. +I at once accepted her offer, although I was very much afraid that +Brum or another would pass, and I would be received with scorn on my +return to the camp. When I had done this task the lady gave me a good +breakfast, with twenty-five cents placed at the side of my plate. +After I had sat down to this meal the lady left the room and shortly +returned with a pair of boots. I thanked her for her kindness, and +she again left the room, and again returned, this time with a pair of +trousers, a shirt, and a pair of socks. These things she wrapped in +a large journal, saying that my soul would not be any the worse for +reading that journal—which had a religious tendency. After leaving +her I made separate bundles of these things, so as to pretend at +the camp that I had received them at different houses, which would +considerably enhance my reputation as a beggar, by showing my dogged +determination to succeed. When I reached the camp I found that not +only Brum had returned, but two others were there, namely, "Wingy," +who had lost an arm, and "Frisco Fatty." I need scarcely say that +when that pair of well-known beggars saw my success, they eyed me +with great satisfaction and spoke with great respect, although they +were too well bred as beggars to express any surprise. Of course, +I made no reference to work, which would have caused Brum to blush +with shame, and would most likely have made Wingy and Frisco Fatty so +disgusted that they would have left our fire and gone deeper into the +woods, to make a fire of their own.</p> + +<p>It was about ten o'clock, and we were sitting at the fire—Brum, +Wingy, Frisco Fatty, and myself—all in the best of humours, each man +having had a good breakfast. Brum now proposed that we should beg +food for our pockets, at dinner-time, so that there would be no need +to leave the camp for the rest of the day, and we could then make +coffee and have our supper together. We had just agreed to this when +into the camp walked a young fellow, not much more than a boy, who +was picking his teeth. After saying, "Hallo, boys!" he continued to +pick his teeth, and at last remarked, "The people in this town keep +tough chicken, and I shall be mighty glad to be out of it." Saying +this, he took hold of an old tin pot, turned it bottom uppermost, and +seated himself next to Wingy. At the mention of chicken I noticed +Brum's ears cock, and then an amused smile came into his face, but he +made no remark.</p> + +<p>Although the new-comer made anything but a favourable impression, he +appeared nothing daunted, for there he sat, looking at the fire, and +whistling, until such time as one of us would start a conversation. +"I believe that I have seen your face before," said Wingy quietly, +and looking the stranger full in the face. Now, Wingy knew that +he had not seen him before, but he did not want his own presence +disgraced by a new-made beggar—who is known to the profession by +the name of "fresh cat." Therefore, if his thought had been truly +expressed, it would have been, "Who are you?" The new-comer certainly +answered Wingy's thought instead of his language, for he answered +with great dignity, "I am Cincinnati Slim." As it happened that the +city of Cincinnati was Wingy's winter quarters, and that he had never +heard of or met this beggar there, you can imagine what a painful +silence followed. However, although Wingy plainly showed by his +expression that the camp was imposed on by the arrival of a "fresh +cat," he soon recovered his good humour. But it was very fortunate +that another fledgling beggar had not then arrived, or Wingy's +Christian charity and forbearance would have gone up with the smoke +of our camp-fire.</p> + +<p>When dinner-time arrived we all left the camp, and each of us +succeeded without much trouble in getting a hot dinner and extra cold +food for supper. I was very fortunate in getting dinner at the first +house I called at, and on going to another house was given a paper +parcel, which contained two sandwiches and a banana; this I thought +would be ample for my own supper, and returned to the camp. Now, my +business could scarcely have been transacted quicker, and yet, when +I arrived at the camp, I saw to my surprise Cincinnati Slim, picking +his teeth. "Chicken again," he said to me, pulling a long face, as +he struggled with his back teeth.</p> + +<p>At last we were all together, and a very happy supper we had that +evening. Cincinnati Slim had not arrived in the camp to hear our +arrangements, so Brum, seeing more food than could be eaten, invited +him to a share. Slim remonstrated, saying that he wanted nothing, +having had an excellent dinner of chicken and sweet potatoes, and had +not known of our arrangements, or he would have begged enough for a +dozen men. Time after time I saw the same amused expression come into +Brum's face as he watched Cincinnati Slim at supper, and I could not +help but notice that the latter swallowed large mouthfuls of food +with extraordinary speed.</p> + +<p>The next morning Wingy proposed making a large stew, and each man was +commissioned to beg certain articles after having had his breakfast. +Cincinnati Slim was to beg bread, which was very easy; and I had to +account for meat, which was quite as easy to obtain, seeing that it +was very cheap in that part of the country. Wingy had the difficult +task of begging coffee, sugar, pepper, and salt; and Brum's task to +get raw vegetables was not to be envied. These arrangements left +Frisco Fatty free, but he was too good a beggar to take advantage of +this, and said emphatically that he would get a supply of tobacco. +With these ideas we all sallied out.</p> + +<p>On this expedition we all succeeded except Cincinnati Slim. He walked +into the camp, after we had all returned, picking his teeth as usual. +He complained that every time he asked for bread he was invited +indoors to a hot meal, and that after this had occurred for the third +time, he had been forced to give up in despair, for fear of another +hot meal for an already overloaded stomach. However, that did not +matter, for Brum had begged a loaf of bread, in addition to onions, +potatoes, and tomatoes. He seemed to have expected the failure of +bread.</p> + +<p>At one o'clock the stew was ready, and we shared it out in tin +cans, with which the camp was well supplied. Cincinnati Slim had an +extraordinary appetite, and certainly ate twice as much as any other, +and was encouraged by Brum to do so. He apologized for his third +helping by saying that it was his favourite dish, and that it was a +change from so much chicken. It was certainly a good meal, and we +were all contented to remain in the camp for the rest of the day, +with hot coffee and bread for supper.</p> + +<p>When I awoke the next morning my companions were asleep, but Brum +was not to be seen. After indulging in another nap, I awoke from my +second sleep, and saw my companions washing and preparing to go for +breakfast. I was just about to enquire for Brum when into the camp +that true beggar walked. He, it seemed, had risen early, and begged +his breakfast at a poor work-man's house—a deed that I had never +known him to do before. At last we were all ready to seek breakfast, +and Brum, having had his, was left smoking his pipe at the fire.</p> + +<p>It was certainly a most extraordinary town for good-natured people, +for in less than half an hour we were all back in the camp. "Where's +Brum?" I asked Wingy. "I don't know," he answered. The words were +hardly out of my mouth when Cincinnati Slim appeared, still picking +his teeth, and close at his heels came Brum.</p> + +<p>After Wingy and Frisco Fatty had left the camp, for they were on +their way to Galveston, Brum looked straight at Cincinnati Slim +and said, "Well, Slim, what kind of breakfast did you have? More +chicken?" "Not this time," answered Slim; "ham and fried eggs." "You +young liar!" cried Brum. "You have not been to a single house, for +I have been following you all the time. You have had nothing to eat +since you came except what you have had at this camp. If it were not +for luck, young fools like you would starve. Here, take this"—and he +threw Cincinnati Slim a paper of food. The latter sat down without a +word and began to eat.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">III</p> +<h2><a id="Daring-Beggars">Daring Beggars</a></h2> + +<p>American beggars knock boldly at doors like kings' messengers. An +imposing mansion with marble pillars is a challenge to them, and they +dance up its steps and press the button of an electric bell with a +violence that no familiar friends of the house would dare use; but +an English beggar almost sinks into the earth when his ears receive +the report of his timid hand. In fact, except in very rare instances, +where a large house has been approached and—for a wonder—found +good, and has become famous to the begging fraternity—except in +these very rare instances, English beggars pass by large mansions as +though they were empty churches or smallpox hospitals.</p> + +<p>I don't suppose there is a more daring or more impudent rascal on +earth than a good American beggar. It is always his boast that he +has begged an ex-president, or the present one, and he claims to +have received benefits from a number of well-known millionaires, +actors, and prize-fighters. Such proud experiences never fall from +the lips of an English beggar, for the simple reason that he lives on +the working and middle classes. A row of small cottages is of more +benefit to him than an equal number of fine villas, and he thinks +that he is in a hungry wilderness when there is nothing to be seen +but very large houses—and he is quite right.</p> + +<p>It has always seemed strange to me that Americans, who as a race are +notoriously eager to make money, should be so generous to a beggar. +Even when they refuse it is often more on account of haste than +meanness. Not only that, but they give with such indifference, and +are never annoyed at being solicited, whether they are reading papers +on the verandahs of hotels, or promenading a sea-beach in the company +of ladies. And, what is more, they seldom pry into a beggar's past, +except in such cases as when their interest is aroused by a beggar's +speech. For instance, a gentleman's father or mother may have been +English, Irish or Scotch, and when he thinks that he can detect that +tongue in the speech of a beggar, he is very apt to ask one or two +questions, and the beggar is invariably more generously assisted.</p> + +<p>The American tramp begs in such a quick, thorough, business-like +manner, with such calm persistence and with such confidence, that he +must at last meet with success in the very worst places; for that +reason he will not stand for cross-examination, and if people attempt +to pry into his life, he is just as likely as not to tell them +straight that he is a beggar, that he does not work, and never will.</p> + +<p>The blindest housewife must soon have her eyes opened to the +ingratitude of these men. Most of the houses in small American towns +burn wood, so that a woman is often glad to give a tramp a good hot +meal for five or ten minutes' wood-chopping. But when beggars are +asked to chop wood for a meal, they complain of working on an empty +stomach. Alas for their ingratitude! for, after being served with a +good meal, they often walk away without a glance at the wood-pile. +Some of them do worse—they take the axe, and after delivering one +or two blows they manage to break the handle; then they take the axe +to the mistress of the house, and after quietly apologizing for the +accident, walk away with heavy bellies and light hearts.</p> + +<p>One lady, who had been served this trick a number of times, had +become so irritated, for she could no longer regard them as +accidents, that she decided to feed no more tramps except when her +husband was on the premises. Brum, my friend and tutor, unfortunately +happened to call at this lady's house, and was at once informed that +if he wanted a meal he would have to chop wood for it. Brum agreed +to this, but suggested that he could work all the better for having +the meal first. He was soon seated at the table, and after enjoying +a very fine meal, repaired to the wood-pile. After chopping wood for +five minutes he was just about to drop the axe and leave, when he +heard a man cough. Looking in that direction, he saw to his surprise +a man seated on a chair, watching him with a sarcastic smile on his +face, and, what was far worse, a shot-gun was lying across his knees. +There was nothing else for poor Brum to do than to continue chopping +wood until the man gave him permission to go. Brum thought he would +never regain his freedom, for it was a full half-hour before the man +came forward and said, smiling coldly, "You may now go, for you have +earned your meal."</p> + +<p>For a long time after this incident the sight of a wood-pile made +poor Brum feel faint and dizzy. No doubt it also filled him with a +wish to have vengeance. It was a great pity that such a noble fellow +should have to suffer this indignity through others. For Brum would +always oblige the ladies by chopping a tiny bit of wood, but of +course he would never work without first eating, and five minutes' +work was his time limit for the very best of meals. He never broke an +axe, or sneaked away without doing a little work.</p> + +<p>Brum had his revenge when he took advantage of a lady at a large +house, who was surrounded with servants of both sexes. This lady +explained to Brum that she would give him a good meal, provided he +would afterwards chop wood. He willingly gave a promise and took the +meal. While he was chopping it came under his notice that his shoes +were not altogether as good as they should be; so, after chopping +enough wood to make a show, he deliberately chopped off the heel of +his left shoe. After doing this he went to the lady and brought the +"accident" to her notice. The result of this was that she, after +looking in vain for an old pair, thought it cheaper to give Brum a +dollar to buy a second-hand pair of shoes than to give away a pair of +her husband's. So Brum was a dollar in pocket, for, being such a good +beggar, he had very little difficulty in getting another pair, and of +course people could see that he was sadly in need of them.</p> + +<p>Ah, Brum was equal to almost any emergency, for he had marvellous +impudence. See how he begged a dollar from the English consul in a +seaport, and then went straight aboard a ship and begged soup of a +common seaman! After which he swore that the soup had scalded his +throat, and he begged sweetshops for jujubes to suck. A wonderful +beggar! whose persuasive powers could succeed with a proud English +consul, and was then equal to the task of approaching a common seaman.</p> + +<p>But, after all is said, the most daring feat that was ever performed +by an American tramp is not to be put to the credit of men who +have begged presidents, millionaires, and consuls, but to a dirty, +unkempt, hairy tramp, whose mind was suddenly illumined by the light +of divine genius.</p> + +<p>This man was so dirty and ragged that he was a disgrace to third-rate +beggars, much less such men as Brum, New Haven Baldy, and Detroit +Fatty. This man, satisfied with rags, dirt, and long matted hair and +beard, suddenly became ambitious for fame, and inspired with an idea +that had never before entered the minds of the most daring tramps. +After having slept in the open air for a number of months, this man +not only determined to sleep in a bed, but to wake the next morning +famous like Byron. Inspired with this noble idea, he journeyed to a +distant town, where lived the richest man in the land, surrounded by +luxuries unequalled by kings. Everything was in the tramp's favour, +for the richest man in the land was away from home, and the poorest +and dirtiest man in the land had decided to sleep in the former's +bed! That this tramp was under supernatural influence there can be +no doubt, or how could he enter the grounds, much less the house, +without being seen by one of the numerous servants? Again, what led +his feet direct to that room—one of a hundred—and whispered in his +ear, "This is his bed"? And such a bed it was! so white, so soft, so +comfortable, that the happy tramp slept long after daylight.</p> + +<p>No doubt he would have slept much longer, had he not been disturbed. +For when next morning a servant entered the room, she saw, to her +surprise and horror, some very ragged clothes at the foot of the bed, +and a black tin can, which the tramp used for making coffee, hanging +on the beautiful bedpost. After which she saw a very dirty pair of +hands on the bed, and then she shrieked, for she now saw the dirtiest +and roughest-looking face she had ever seen, there, on her master's +white pillow. Her startled cry soon brought others, and it was not +long before the sleeper, now awake and smiling, was out of bed and +standing between two indignant constables, who stared at the dark +shadow of their prisoner's head on the white pillow.</p> + +<p>This, I believe, was the most daring feat that was ever performed by +a tramp.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">IV</p> +<h2><a id="Dilemmas-of-Travellers">Dilemmas of Travellers</a></h2> + +<p>However careful a tramp may be to avoid places where there is +abundant work, he cannot always succeed. It was in a small town +in Texas that I had such a narrow escape of losing the delightful +companionship of Brum. I had gone to a sawmill boarding-house +in expectation of getting a good free dinner, having taken the +precaution to wait until all the men had returned to work, so that +I would then see no other than the lady of the house, and she, of +course, would know little about work at the mill. When I knocked, +the lady answered the door, and after hearing my story invited me +indoors. She was a fine, motherly-looking woman, stout—the very kind +of creature in whom Brum had so much confidence, that she herself +lived well, and would sympathize with others that could not do the +same. But who should I see when I got inside but the manager or +owner of the mill, who, for some reason, had not yet returned to +business. As a general rule a woman is trustful, and will believe +almost anything; but I was now unexpectedly confronted by a hard +business man, who would probably ask a number of awkward questions +of trades that maybe he knew something about. While I was having +dinner, these questions were put to me and apparently answered to +his satisfaction. "Now," said he, when I was preparing to leave, "I +can find you work at the mill, and you can start at once. I am not +reckoned to be a bad master; the wages will certainly not be bad for +a beginner, and you will never, I am sure, have cause to complain of +this boarding-house. Your face appears to be open and honest, and you +have a straightforward look that I like." The last remark made my +face as red as a beetroot with guilt, which he, no doubt, took to be +a pleasant sign of modesty. This was a most awkward position, and I +began to explain myself. "Sir," said I, "I am a tailor by trade, and +am now on my way to Houston, where I am sure of getting work. I earn +three, four, and sometimes five dollars a day at my trade, and am +the main support of a family of little sisters and brothers. So you +see how others must suffer if I accept work in a mill at a dollar and +a quarter a day. Not of myself I think, but others." The man seemed +to be quite satisfied with this explanation, and said, "At any rate, +you shall have a little job and earn a dollar to help you on the +way." Then turning to the landlady, he asked the following question, +which almost froze the marrow in my bones: "Where is that dark pair +of trousers that were split?" As the reader will guess, I was no +tailor, and could do no more than sew a button on a pair of trousers. +So what a sigh of relief I gave when the kind-hearted woman said that +she had given them away some time before. The man was now thoughtful, +and I was very much afraid that he was trying to bring to mind other +wearing apparel that would need repair. Being afraid of this, I rose, +and hastily thanking them for my good dinner, walked towards the +door. He followed me, being on his way to the mill, and before I left +him he placed in my hand a silver half-dollar, wishing me good-bye +and good luck.</p> + +<p>Brum was very pleased to see me coming, as he had begun to have +fears that I had been arrested, or had been offered work and accepted +it. Brum was very particular as to what kind of companions he made, +and if he lost me he might have travelled alone for a considerable +time.</p> + +<p>Some time after this Brum and I were very awkwardly placed when +a party of boys determined, in pity for our idleness, to find us +work. These boys were squirrel-shooting in the woods, and seeing our +camp-fire at once came forward and began a sociable conversation. +All the boys were armed with guns, and that is the reason why boys +in that part of the world are not in much fear of tramps, in fact +the fear is more likely to be on the tramps' side. Now it happened +that some railroad work was being done close to our camp, and the +work was in the hands of Italians. The boys, having probably heard +their elders speak ill of such people, determined that we two idle +Americans—judging by our language—should be installed in the +place of the Italians, and the latter driven out of that part of +the country. "Come!" they said to Brum and me, "we will soon find +you work." This was very awkward indeed, and poor old Brum began +to totter in the camp and groan. "What's the matter?" asked one +of the kind-hearted lads. "Boys," said Brum slowly, and with great +difficulty, "I am a very sick man. I am now making my way to Houston +as fast as I can, to get hospital treatment." "Yes," I said firmly, +and with quick apprehension. "Yes, and it shall never be said that I +deserted a sick companion." "Good luck to you," said one of the lads, +after which they soon left.</p> + +<p>There was no other course now than to leave this place at once, for +if we stayed any longer we were certain to see one of these lads +again, seeing that there were so many of them and that the town was +very small.</p> + +<p>In spite of this disinclination to work, there are times when a +tramp feels inclined to break the monotony by doing a little light +labour. With such a noble resolve Brum and I left Houston to pick +strawberries on our way to Galveston. On reaching the land of +strawberries, we immediately made enquiries as to the prospect of +work, and were recommended to a large farm which was under the +control of a syndicate of Chinamen. On approaching the boss Chinaman +and explaining our wish, we were at once engaged. At this farm each +Chinaman seemed to be allotted one task. One was to be seen with a +large watering-can watering the plants from morning till night, in +sunshine or rain.</p> + +<p>The next morning we started to pick after having received our +instructions from the boss Chinaman, namely, "To pickee clean, and +leave a little stem so as people can catchee hold of the bellies." +Alas! the difficulty was to find the berries, and we were to be paid +according to our picking; the water-carrier was far too industrious, +for his watering beneath a hot sun was certainly bad for the plants; +it did not require a farmer to know that. Needless to say, we +remonstrated in a very short time and demanded our wages, in spite of +the boss Chinaman coming forward with three berries on the palm of +his right hand, and crying exultingly, "Lookee at the big bellies I +pickee!"</p> + +<p>We received our money, which amounted to very little, less than half +a dollar between us, and left. It is surprising the number of jobs +that I have left with very low wages to come, just enough to buy a +bag of peanuts or the price of a shave.</p> + +<p>Of course we would not have been quite so independent as this had we +not left Pat Healey at work two weeks before.</p> + +<p>Thinking he must now have ten or fifteen dollars saved, we resolved +to call on him, and after getting him discharged, help him to spend +his savings. With this object we boarded a fast freight train, and +arrived that night at the place where we had left him—where he had +accepted light work in a garden.</p> + +<p>The next morning Brum called at the house for breakfast, which the +good lady at once supplied. Brum had not seen any signs of Pat, so +he made enquiries, and the lady informed him that the man had gone +away the day before, "with ten or fifteen dollars," thought Brum, and +groaned.</p> + +<p>I was so disappointed when I received from Brum this information, +that I was ill for several days after. I must have been light-headed +for several days, for I thought every voice I heard was Pat calling +to us, and every form I saw in the distance seemed to be his.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">V</p> +<h2><a id="Queer-Places">Queer Places</a></h2> + +<p>The most annoying position I was ever in was when travelling afoot in +the State of Tennessee. There were three of us together, and two had +money in plenty—that is we had enough to supply ourselves with the +necessaries of life for a month at least. But we had made the great +mistake of leaving the railroad, on which the towns were built, and +walking the back country roads, which were wild and unfrequented, +with a stray house here and there. The mistake was that we had +not taken the precaution to supply ourselves with provisions, not +doubting but that with money we could purchase food at any house +which we might chance upon. We had passed several houses and, at +last, beginning to feel the pangs of hunger, made up our minds to +call at the next house we came to. Three houses passed, and we had +not seen one that was likely to serve our purpose—no houses except +negro shanties and a planter's large house lying far back from the +road. When we did at last come to a decent-looking place, we were by +then three hungry and desperate men, and were not long in explaining +to its owner the object of our visit. On our appearance that +gentleman seemed none too pleased, and, in spite of our confession +of hunger, and our willingness to pay to have it appeased, did not +seem in any way to favour our presence. He was outside the house +when we accosted him, and, after hearing us and refusing further +conversation, began to make his way indoors. We knew, of course, +that once inside he would take more drastic measures to get rid of +us, that he would arm himself and order us to be gone. Knowing this, +Texas Jack at once drew a revolver and made him stand, while we +lost no time in going indoors and helping ourselves, taking as much +bread and bacon as would do for a meal. Before we left the house, my +companion hid the farmer's gun, which we saw standing in the corner. +We then told the farmer what we had done, and after advising him not +to follow us, and giving him a dollar bill—which was four times the +worth of what we had taken—made our way along the road as fast as we +could. No doubt the man had been afraid we would not pay him, and we +knew well that he was hardly likely to follow us after receiving a +dollar for such a small theft.</p> + +<p>But it is in the backwoods of Arkansas where the most unenlightened +people of America live. At one time I was walking a railroad in that +State, which for a number of miles was little more than trestles +built over the swamps. There was very little solid foundation, +although for years men had been filling in the deep hollows under +the rails. In my ten miles' walk I saw a hundred snakes sunning +themselves on the track. They would crawl out of the adjoining swamps +and lie between the sleepers, many of them cut in two, having been +caught by a train when they were lying across the rails. These snakes +were all dangerous to tread on, and it was necessary for a man to +keep his eyes continually on the earth, and to stand still if he +wanted to look elsewhere.</p> + +<p>There is one very interesting creature in the swamps of Arkansas, +and that is the wild hog, who has made himself famous under the +name of "Razor-back." Four of us had made our camp in the driest +place we could find near the track. We had carried with us from the +last town a quantity of bread and bacon, a tin of tomatoes, and a +few ears of green corn. Scarcely had we settled to our meal when we +heard grunting, and were soon surrounded by a score of these wild, +half-famished hogs. We had cooked the corn, and after picking the +cobs had thrown the latter into the hot ashes. At last these hogs +became so bold and desperate, after having been repeatedly driven +away, that they began to poke their snouts into the hot ashes for +the burning cobs of corn. Of course they severely burned their poor +snouts, and grunted in great pain, but they did not leave a single +cob to be destroyed by fire. The empty tomato can fell to the lot +of the greediest hog. He, trying to get at the bottom, made such a +desperate attempt that the can fastened on his snout, and he at once +hurried off into the back swamps, muzzled it seemed for life.</p> + +<p>It was on this occasion that I happened to see one of these wild hogs +running in front of a fast-approaching train. He had been crossing +the track, when he suddenly heard the whistle of an engine. Turning +his head, he saw to his consternation that some huge thing was +rushing upon him, and was increasing in bulk as it came. Instead of +leaving the track the hog gave a grunt and ran, with his enemy in +pursuit. Making a stop, and again looking, he saw his enemy close +upon him, and, giving one more grunt, louder this time, ran for his +life. Alas! that was his last run on earth, for, just as he was about +to turn and face the iron monster for the third time, the latter +struck poor Mr. Hog and tossed him some twenty or thirty feet in the +air, after which he fell lifeless in the swamp. His fellow-hogs made +much of his death, and after grunting a few rapid prayers, soon had +their unfortunate brother buried—in themselves.</p> + +<p>The very few natives that inhabit these swamps get their principal +meat supply from these hogs. They generally manage to grow enough +corn to provide them with bread, so they live from one year's end +to another on a monotonous diet of cornbread and hog's meat, or, as +it is said, "corn dodger and sour belly." They are very lazy and +indifferent to money, and life in these swamps suits them well. +Newspapers and books they know little of, and it is said in other +parts of the Union: "The people of Arkansas don't know the war is +over," meaning, of course, their own civil war between North and +South. They manage to keep themselves in boots, clothes, ammunition, +coffee, and chewing tobacco, by bartering a few skins. The Americans +did not get their name of hustlers from Arkansas. In some parts +of this state, where the swamp lies near the Mississippi, and is +therefore liable to be flooded at any time, the natives build their +little wooden houses on piles driven deep into the soft earth. These +houses look more like large pigeon-coops than human habitations, and +to enter the front door it is necessary to climb a steep ladder. It +is certainly lucky that poverty and distance from towns force these +people to be teetotallers, or half of them would often have to sleep +under their houses instead of in them. Of course, all Arkansas is +not like this, for there are a number of fine towns in the state, +and the people in those towns are as far advanced as in any other +town of the Union; but the truth must be told, that Arkansas is the +last place in the world to recover from the Great Flood; and that she +still persists in remaining in a damp condition, to breed snakes +and deadly flies, in spite of the efforts of her inhabitants to make +things otherwise. She is still in a condition to breed fever, and her +inhabitants are thin, and their skin is hard and leathery.</p> + +<p>When I enquired of a native the distance to the next town he didn't +know. I asked him if it was two miles—he stared. I asked him if it +was fifty miles, but he still stared. It seemed that the poor fellow +did not understand mileage, so I asked how long it would take to walk +there. "Yer'll have to be right smart to get there by sundown," said +he. I then asked him the size of the town, but this he did not know, +for he had never been there, but came very near going there a year +ago. I then asked him if he knew anyone that had been there, and he +answered that "Ole man Johnson was there the fall before last." What +was Johnson's opinion of the town? "Right smart," said my man.</p> + +<p>Of course I did not expect to find a town like London, New York, +or Chicago, or even a town with tramcars, but I must confess to +disappointment when I found nothing but a store, a railway station, +and five or six miserable-looking houses.</p> + +<p>Another time I met a native of this same State of Arkansas, who was +well dressed, and seemed to be more intelligent than others. In the +course of conversation he asked me where I came from, and on being +told that I came from England, he said, "You are a long way from +home." The man certainly spoke with more culture than I had expected, +and it filled me with astonishment when he requested me, in English +better than my own, to say something to him in my own language for +his amusement.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">VI</p> +<h2><a id="Stiffs">Stiffs</a></h2> + +<p>In England the poorer classes often refer to a corpse as a "stiff +un," and naturally one would suppose that the word "stiff," used +as a noun, would mean the same. But in America the noun stiff is +not applied to dead people, but as a term of scorn for hard-working +men and others. For instance, one is called a "shovel stiff," +another a "cattle stiff"; then there is the "mission stiff," and the +"barrel-house stiff." Shovel stiff is the name applied by tramps to +navvies and railroad workers. If one of the latter enters a tramps' +camp, being out of work and looking for it, it is not long before he +sees that his presence is not wanted. He is generally known by his +clothes or his heavy boots. Tramps wear light boots, which are begged +at the better class of houses, the inmates of which do not wear heavy +boots. So when a man on tramp is seen to have on a heavy working +pair, it can reasonably be supposed that he has bought them, and must +have worked to enable him to do so. For this reason he is only a +tramp for the time being, and is despised for being a shovel stiff. +Even if his clothes or boots do not betray him, he is not long in +the camp before he is found out, for he begins to question Baltimore +Fatty, Boston Slim, or Frisco Shorty, and others, as to the prospect +of getting work in certain places. Some of these free spirits answer +him politely enough, saying, "We don't know, Jack." A shovel stiff +has no other name than Jack, not considered being worthy of the name +of "New York" Jack, "Chicago" Jack, or any other name of a city that +should be proud to own him. "We don't know, Jack," they answer, with +some dignity; "we never work." Others lose patience at once and say, +"We don't want to be bothered in this camp by a gol darn shovel +stiff."</p> + +<p>My friend Brum was a tramp of the best, but he had too much pity +for working men, and was too kind-hearted to openly insult the poor +shovel stiff. But he confessed that the worst night he ever spent was +at a fire with one other, who turned out to be a shovel stiff. Brum +said that the poor fellow was building bridges, making railroads, and +digging canals all night, until he had to be told sternly to stop and +go to sleep. He never seemed to get tired of talking of work, and +Brum had to at last address him like this: "Look here, old fellow; +last night you cut a tunnel right through the Rocky Mountains, and +you also bridged the Mississippi, where it was a mile wide; in +addition to these you dug a canal from Chicago to New Orleans, nearly +a thousand miles, and a number of smaller jobs, which were difficult, +but which we will not mention; now, after doing so much work in one +night—arn't you tired?" Of course, as can be expected, Brum did not +travel far with such an industrious companion.</p> + +<p>A cattle stiff is another term of reproach, used by sailors, firemen, +and boss cattlemen, towards the men who do the heavy, dirty, and +ill-paid work. I was a stiff, and no more, when I received two pounds +for a trip, and all the other cattlemen—except the foreman and two +men with first-class experience—received only ten shillings each. +Being the best-paid stiff on board, I was made night watchman, which +really means that for the whole night I was alone in charge of the +cattle—being foreman, experienced man, and stiff, all in one. On the +second night out, I happened to be forward inspecting the cattle, +when I suddenly heard a fierce shout from the bridge. I took little +notice of this until I heard a second shout, and could not fail to +hear the words, "Cover that light!" Of course, I never dreamed that +the order was meant for me, seeing that I had nothing to do with the +working of the ship, my whole duty being with the cattle. Taking no +notice, I proceeded about my work, swinging the lantern here and +there; but in less than a minute I heard another fierce shout, and +immediately after I was standing face to face with the first mate, +he—a man very much disliked on board ship—standing before me in a +great rage. "You dam stiff!" he shouted; "didn't I tell you to cover +that light?" "What have you got to do with the light?" I demanded, +angered at the word stiff. "You look after the ship, that is your +work; mine is with the cattle." He grew almost mad with rage, and I +believe, if he had not seen the axe—which the night watchman carries +in his belt in readiness for wedging loose boards, etc.—if he had +not seen that axe, there is no doubt but that he would have resorted +to violence. As it was, he ran up the deck shouting that he would +have me put in irons. It happened that the cattle foreman had not +yet gone to bed, and, hearing the fierce shouts of the first mate, +left his room to know the cause. To him the first mate hastened to +explain, saying that he had been dazzled by my lantern, and that he +had become so confused as to take it for another ship, and that if +I did not obey his orders to keep the light covered on one side, +he would have me put in irons. It never once occurred to me that +the safety of the cattle was one with the safety of the ship, and I +answered that I had signed no articles to obey captain, first mate, +or any other officer, and that the ship could burn or sink, but my +duty was still confined to the cattle. However, I promised to do +my best not to blind the look-out by swinging my lantern, but what +aggravated me most was to be called a stiff.</p> + +<p>Then there is the mission stiff. This man is also despised by +Baltimore Fatty and his ilk. He is certainly a beggar, but he +concentrates his mind in one direction, and if he was in any place +where there was no mission-room he would be likely to starve. Most +of the mission-rooms supply soup and bread during the winter months, +and it is at such places that this class of stiff is to be found. He +waylays members of the choir and the respectable people that attend +the mission, and from these he not only gets tickets for soup, but +invitations to their houses, where he receives clothes and performs +a little labour for money. He attains this end by attending the +mission and giving a short testimony relating the change of his soul +from black to white. The mission stiff is greatly despised, for he +talks of nothing else, and he knows and has worked every mission in +the country. I have been called a shovel stiff, a cattle stiff, and +a barrel-house stiff, but have never been called a mission stiff, +although I have mixed with them.</p> + +<p>The sole occupation of a barrel-house stiff is to stand outside +public-houses waiting for invitations to drink. He speaks familiarly +to all men that approach, and some of them say, "Going to have one?" +On which he replies, "Yes." When he is once at the bar, he seldom +leaves it till the house closes at night. There is not often more +than one or two barrel stiffs to one house, and that is why the +landlord welcomes them; in fact he often invites the stiff to have +a drink, and sends him on an errand or uses his services to collect +empty glasses. A barrel-house stiff is the most despised of all +stiffs, for the simple reason that he is a physical wreck and, though +a swaggerer and a loud talker, is as powerless in action as a babe. +He has no wind and his appearance is false, being red and fleshy. He +lives on beer, and when he helps himself to the free lunch on the +counter, he eats little more than a bird. He does not eat that little +with appetite and relish, but takes his food as a medicine that must +be taken in small quantities. The barrel-house stiff is the shortest +liver of all stiffs, and the shovel stiff is after all the noblest +and least deserving of reproach.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">VII</p> +<h2><a id="American-Prisons">American Prisons</a></h2> + +<p>Most people have heard that American prisons are not so hard as those +of other countries, and they think of them as hotels for comfort, +where a man loses nothing but his liberty. This is quite true of the +North, but some of the Southern States can tell a different story. In +England all prisons are much the same, but those of America not only +differ in the various States, but even in the adjoining counties of +the same State.</p> + +<p>When I travelled Connecticut and Massachusetts in winter it was +very pleasant, night after night, to be lodged in a warm room. All +we had to do, after we had begged the town, was to call at the +police station, where the officer in charge would take our names and +occupation. Sometimes we were searched, and knives and razors taken +from us, to be returned on the following morning; but the police +would not make any comment on the food in our pockets. After this we +were conducted to a large clean room, heated by steam; and there we +could eat, smoke, and chat with happiness, until sleep overpowered +us. The next morning we were at liberty to go our way, without a +question of performing some task for our accommodation. In some cases +we were even given a drink of hot coffee, with a piece of sausage +and bread. Of course, good beggars would firmly but civilly decline +these, for they could beg a better breakfast at a private house, and +they would not spoil their appetite. Some of them, being very good +beggars indeed, would tell the officer this; while others, more kind +and considerate, would take what was offered and give it to some poor +shovel stiff (navvy) out of work, or a fresh cat (new beginner). +You must not be surprised at good beggars taking the accommodation +offered by a police station, for common lodging-houses are not known +in America, except in large cities.</p> + +<p>The following incident will prove how jails differ even within a +few miles of each other. I and another had been treated well, night +after night, in the various police stations of Connecticut and +Massachusetts, and one night we came to a nice little town in the +latter State. We had not the least difficulty in begging supper. In +fact we hardly parted, for my companion was invited into the first +house he called at, and the same thing happened to me at the house +next door. It was a very strange, neat piece of business; for we were +both standing together at different doors, and even chatted while we +waited; and the both doors were answered at the same time; and, at +the same time as a man's voice said to him, "Come in," so a woman's +voice said the same words to me. We could hear one another's steps +going to the supper table, and our movements could be heard so plain +that one must be aware when the other was leaving the house.</p> + +<p>My companion was an American and a fast eater, and I heard them +letting him out when I was about three parts through with my supper. +However, he waited and, when I rejoined him, we both sought the +police station, not dreaming but what it would be like the others +visited on the previous nights. Being strangers in that town, we were +at a loss which way to turn. Therefore, when I saw a boy coming +near, I enquired of him as to where the marshal was to be found. +Seeing him look astonished, I rewarded his curiosity by telling him +our business—that we wanted a night's lodging at the police station. +"What!" he cried in amazement; "what: not in the cooler?" I was +quite surprised to hear this word "cooler," for I had never heard it +before. However, just then the marshal came and, after hearing our +wants, said, "Certainly, boys, follow me." He then led the way down +a dark side street and in a few minutes stood before a small stone +building, with one storey, and one room—to all appearance—and with +bars at the window. Taking from his pocket a large key, he opened +the door and walked in, inviting us to follow him. When we were all +three inside, he struck a match, and by its light motioned towards +a dark corner, saying, "You will find blankets there, boys; make +yourselves comfortable." He had scarcely uttered these words when the +light went out—and so did he; for, before we could ask one question, +we heard the key turned in the lock, and we were left alone. My +companion shouted several questions after him, but he did not answer +or return. We wanted to know several things, the principal one being +about drinking water.</p> + +<p>By the light of a match, which I held, my companion found the +blankets—two dirty, ill-smelling, thin blankets, and half a one. +Here was a difference in treatment. Twelve miles from this place we +were treated better, some people would think, than we deserved, but +this was downright cruelty.</p> + +<p>Ah! well I remembered the boy saying "cooler"! For it was the dead of +winter, and the floor was of stone, and we only had two thin blankets +and a half between us. The place was also very damp, for no fire had +ever been lit in this building. I need hardly say that we had to run +about all night in the dark to keep our bodies from freezing, in +spite of being good beggars and well-fed men.</p> + +<p>There is so much difference in the prisons of America that tramps +always—when they incline for a change, thieving instead of +begging—discuss at the camps the accommodation of the prisons that +await unsuccessful attempts. The kind of thieving tramps mostly go in +for is breaking seals and robbing cars of their merchandise; and the +time of year they do these things is on the approach of winter; so +that they may either be in a good warm jail during the cold months, +or else have freedom with plenty of money in their pockets.</p> + +<p>I knew one good jail, in Michigan, that was very hard to break into. +A man could beg with impunity at private houses or in the public +streets without being arrested, and tramps had to resort to other +methods to attain their ends. They would go boldly and take things +from the doorways of shops, and would then, to their delight, be +arrested, charged with petty larceny, and sentenced to from twenty to +sixty days. They did not snatch the things and run, but deliberately +took them under people's eyes. When they were in their much-coveted +jail, they had nothing to do but play cards, smoke, read, eat and +sleep.</p> + +<p>There was some difference between that place and the Old Prison at +New Orleans. When I was arrested there, with six others, for sleeping +in a freight car, we were all sentenced to thirty days. The judge—an +old Southerner, who could never forgive the North for freeing the +slaves without giving their owners some compensation—this old judge +commented very severely and bitterly on our coming South, to live on +its charity, instead of staying where we belonged. "We don't want you +down here," he said; "but now that you are here, we will keep you for +a time."</p> + +<p>Only niggers and the poorest white people were sent to this Old +Prison, for there was a new place for the better-class prisoners. +Indeed as there were no clothes supplied, there could not be any +mistake as to the class of prisoners. No such a thing as a bath, +no work, and no discipline. At night we were lodged in large cells +that had a number of bunks in each, and we could not sleep for the +cold. In the day we walked about in a large yard, several hundred +prisoners. Some of the new prisoners, not yet tamed by cold and +hunger, would laugh, sing, and dance, and fights were not unusual. +Our food consisted of a small quantity of bread and some greasy +water, almost starvation. The men that had been confined there for a +month or more were like skeletons. The object seemed to be to keep us +alive, and no more, so as to save the expense of burying us. A number +of prisoners had gone simple of mind. There was one—a Chinaman—and +no one seemed to know how long he had been there or what for, as +he could not speak a word of English. I often think of the poor +wretch—the most pathetic figure I have ever seen. When he was +walking up and down the yard, he would suddenly come to a standstill +and, in a very clear, high voice sing his grief like a bird. Every +prisoner would be startled by this sudden and unexpected wail, and a +dead silence would come, which before was all buzz. But, as can be +expected, this effect would not last long, for some simple prisoner, +as mad as the Chinaman himself, would begin to shout and laugh, and +others would soon join him. Then the poor Chinaman would stop and, +wrapping his loose garment about him, begin again his silent walk to +and fro. In an hour or two after, the place would be again startled +by that high, clear voice, and the same silence would come, and the +same jeering would break the spell.</p> + +<p>While I was in this prison we had a fall of snow—which is +exceptional in that part—and we suffered very much on that account. +But the snow was very kind to the mad Chinaman, for he was found +dead the next morning, with snow on his body. And yet he was in a +cell—but I am not prepared to enter into a description as to how +this prison was arranged. All I know is that I saw the cell with the +door open and the dead man's feet just inside, covered with snow. No +doubt the governor gave a satisfactory account of the prisoner under +his charge.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">VIII</p> +<h2><a id="Experiences-of-Others">Experiences of Others</a></h2> + +<p>Some of my experiences may sound a little exciting to men that have +led a quiet life at home, but I would not care to mention them in +the hearing of some men that I have met. One of my worst experiences +was in riding the rods of a train, in the State of Texas, on a road +that was notoriously hard to beat. Riding the rods means to stretch +one's body under a car, on a narrow board four inches wide, which +is fastened to two thin iron rods. Tramps never ride in this way, +except when the brakesmen are very bad and would strike them off the +bumpers, and there is not one unsealed, empty car on the train. But +when a tramp is safely on the rods, and the train is going, it is +then impossible to reach him with anything until the train stops. +Of course if the rods broke, or anything happened to the board, or +the tramp went to sleep, he must then fall and be cut to pieces. +All these freight trains have rods, but a great number are without +boards; for that reason a tramp often gets his own board and drives +a nail into each end. When the train begins to move he throws his +board across the rods, and then leaps under the car. His life now +depends on the nails keeping in their place, the board not breaking, +and keeping awake. But sometimes, unfortunately for the tramp, the +brakesmen see a train out; which means that they will stand one on +each side of the train, at the head of the engine, and inspect each +side of the train as it passes them. If they see a tramp on the top +of a car, or on the bumpers, they shout to him to get off, and, when +they have themselves boarded the train, they come back over the top +to see whether he has obeyed them or not. It would be wise for the +tramp to do so, for the train would then be going slow; but if he +does not, these brakesmen will force him after, at the point of a +revolver, to jump off a train now going fast. But if they see a tramp +on the rods, they are in a strange position. It is no use to tell +him to get off, because he cannot do so until the train stops; and, +as they cannot reach him, he rides in spite of them. They can only +do one thing, and that is what I, and many more, have had done, and +it is not a pleasant experience. These brakesmen arm themselves with +stones, and one of them no sooner sees a tramp under the car than he +shouts to his fellow. After doing this the two brakesmen run with +the train, throwing stones with all their might, and the tramp can +hear their savage yells and the stones strike against the car. As +it is, he is in a shaky position, without being helped to fall by +receiving a blow on the head with a stone. Fortunately for him, they +must soon stop throwing, for the train is going faster and faster, +and if they do not board it soon they will be left behind. But they +are so used to jumping on moving trains, that they can afford time +to throw a number of stones. Another thing in the tramp's favour is +that they only have a few stones in the first place, and then have +to pick them up. But what favours the tramp most is that these men +cannot aim straight, because the train is on the move, and they have +to follow the car. This was one of my worst experiences, being stoned +while riding the rods. Of course these brakesmen could rush forward +and either pull a tramp out or push him off, but they could not do +so without getting him caught in the wheels. This would be such plain +murder that, in spite of their rage, it frightens them; so they stone +him instead, and give him a chance for his life. Half the tramps +in America will not ride a train if they cannot get the comfort of +an empty car—not even on a road where the brakesmen are good and +indifferent as to the number of tramps they carry. Still, there are +so many that have had my experience that I would not mention it in +the hearing of an old American tramp.</p> + +<p>But it must not be supposed that the dangers of beating one's way +on freight trains in America are always caused by unsympathetic +brakesmen. I know one good road which carried hundreds of tramps +every week, and it was never known that a brakesman had ever put +one off. In fact the brakesmen on this road used to look with +indifference on tramps, as though they were part of the common +freight. Some of these brakesmen were so used to tramps that they +would confess a fear to run a train that had none, much the same as +sailors look for rats on board a ship. But this road was spoilt by a +gang of half robbers and half beggars. These men would board a train +when it was standing still, and as soon as it was on the move, would +go from car to car and search every man that they saw beating his +way. This they would do with men riding outside, in coal cars or on +flat cars. When the train stopped, they would get off and inspect the +train. If they saw an empty car that contained one or two men, this +gang—four, five, or six in number—would get in. A tramp would not +know but what they were the same as himself, and would not feel any +alarm, but welcome their company. But as soon as the train was again +on the move, these new arrivals would then begin to question and +search the first occupants of the car, and woe betide the man that +refused to be searched or was not civil. Out through the open door he +would be thrown, and the train would be going thirty or forty miles +an hour, and it would be night. As I have said, these men were all +beggars, for they would not make enough out of these petty robberies +to keep them. For this reason a man had only to say, when questioned +as to what he was, "I am a beggar," and they would then treat him +with every respect. The men they wanted to find were those that were +working men and had money in their pockets, but preferred to ride +free on an easy road. The desperate methods of these men were so well +known that tramps would often swarm together in one car, knowing that +their number would make them safe. For all that, several dead men +were found every week on this road, and the cause was well known to +tramps. Some of the mutilated men that just escaped with their lives +would have mentioned these things to the police, but the latter did +not trouble, for it was all tramp work, from beginning to end.</p> + +<p>One of the worst experiences I have ever heard of was of a young +cattleman whom I knew in Baltimore. When I met him he was only a lad +of twenty years, and he had such a calm, pleasant face that no one +would think that he ever had an hour's suffering in his life. Two +years before this he had been a stowaway from England to America, +and he was not discovered for several days. So, being too late to +put him on shore, the captain set him to work, with the intention of +handing him over to the police on arrival in America. But when they +were in sight of land and saw the distant lights, it being night, +this lad possessed himself of a life-belt and, without being seen, +dropped overboard. He was under the impression that the tide and +his own exertions would take him to land before morning and, no one +being about, he would be safe. But instead of this, he got caught +in a strong outgoing current, and was taken out to sea. He then had +the experience of floating two days and two nights in the deep sea, +before he was seen and picked up by a passing ship. Whatever his +thoughts could have been, it was most certain that his mind was not +affected, for when I knew him he was the most cheerful and sweetest +tempered in the cattleman's office, and he was never heard to mention +his experience.</p> + +<p>At this office was another cattleman, who had not only been in the +hands of lynchers, but even had the rope round his neck and the other +end of it thrown over the limb of a tree. A tramp had assaulted a +woman, and a number of men were searching for him. Seeing a man at +a camp-fire in the woods they at once pounced on him and, without +any question, placed the rope round his neck and prepared to hang +him. But, fortunately for him, another body of men came, led by the +woman's husband, and with him was a little boy who had witnessed the +assault. "That's not the man," said the little fellow—which saved +the man's life. This cattleman was one of the ugliest men that I have +ever seen, but he was really so harmless, simple, and innocent, that +we all liked him and fed him, and got him to sing. We knew that women +would be afraid of him, and for this reason he was apt to starve. So +we better looking and less deserving tramps saved the poor fellow the +humiliation of having doors slammed in his face, and hearing keys +turned and bolts drawn.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">IX</p> +<h2><a id="The-American-Lakes">The American Lakes</a></h2> + +<p>English sailors who run away from their ships in America, often do +so with the intention of going inland and sailing on the fresh-water +lakes. Other sailors, who have done so before, but felt that they had +to return to the salt sea, talk of their former experience, so that +almost every English sailor knows what sailing on the American lakes +is like. On their deep-sea boats they get hard biscuits, salt meat, +dried peas, and cheap molasses; but on the lakes they get soft bread, +fresh meat, green vegetables, and luxurious fruit. It is no lie that +common sailors and firemen on the American lakes get strawberries and +cream, when such berries are in season, and other fruits when they +are not. Therefore it is not to be wondered at when English sailors +soon feel themselves in a strange position: they feel loth to break +away from the splendid board and lodging on fresh water, and yet +cannot help feeling restless to return to the salt sea and take long +voyages. There are hundreds of English sailors on the American lakes +that have either been in our navy or merchant service, and they live +so well, in comparison with their deep-sea experience, that it is a +great pity that fresh water cannot employ them all the year, as the +sea could. Of course, they earn enough to keep them idle during the +winter, but we all know that saving sailors are almost as scarce as +white crows.</p> + +<p>The real fresh-water sailor, who has never been on the sea, and +probably never saw it, is different to the deep-sea man in many ways. +For instance, he walks straight and does not roll, which is owing to +the different action of inland waters. His voice is gentle and soft, +not rough and hoarse like a deep-sea sailor's. But, for all that, +when it comes to money matters he is quite as extravagant as the man +of long voyages, and is quite as easily fleeced by land-sharks, in +spite of his greater knowledge of life on shore. And every lake town +is as well supplied with land-sharks as a seaport of its size. But, +fortunately for these lake sailors, they are nearly all beggars, +owing to having no work in the winter when the lakes are frozen and +navigation has stopped. This being the case, most of them think very +little of begging a house, and if they are robbed or spend their +money foolishly and have to wait for a ship, they are not likely to +suffer hunger.</p> + +<p>One great advantage on the lakes is that when a man ships he has +no particular need of top boots, oilskins, and many other things +needed by the man of the deep sea. Indeed, the latter has to even +supply himself with a knife, fork, and spoon. There is no law that +a man must have a bag of clothes, for there is no need of them. He +is allowed to ship as he stands, no matter whether he is clad like +a sailor or a farmer, or is in rags like an unsuccessful beggar. +As far as appearances are concerned, a great number of these +fresh-water sailors end the season as they began it. Some of them +look far worse, for they may have had good clothes and boots when +navigation began, and have worn them all the summer and have not +bought others. Therefore, when they are paid for their last trip, and +spend the money foolishly, they are ill-shod and shabbily dressed. +The fresh-water sailors are not nearly so illiterate as salt-water +men, because they are so often on shore in large towns and cities. +A popular song would not be more than three or four days old before +they were on shore to hear it. They do not return, after one voyage, +to be surprised that the town has built a large new dock since they +left, or doubled its population, as deep-sea men may do.</p> + +<p>I was never, in all my life, seized with so great a desire for work +as when I was in one of these lake towns and haunting the waterside. +When I thought of the good pay, the rich food, and the easy work +to be done, it was as much as I could do to keep from applying for +a ship. In fact I made a special journey to Toronto for that very +purpose, but was petted and spoilt by the many good people in that +town. The first day I arrived I happened to find a green, open space +where I could lie down and take my ease between meals. It did not +take me long to find out that the houses around that green common +were very good, for I had no difficulty at all in begging my first +meal, which was breakfast. After doing this, I returned to the green +common and lay down in the grass. But it was not long before the +children came; so, wanting an active hour, I began to play ball with +them. This exercise gave me a good appetite for dinner, and, when +that hour came, I succeeded with as much ease as at breakfast-time. +It was not long before I was back on the common, where I played +ball with the children all the afternoon. Naturally, I now lost all +inclination for work on the lakes, and even laughed at myself for +ever having had such a thought. But, unfortunately, this life was +too good to last long, for something happened the following day +that not only put an end to my ball-playing, but forced me to leave +the green common. I had gone to a house to seek dinner, and the +door was answered by a man who, to my surprise, frowned at me. This +unkind reception was so unusual on the great American continent that +I made up my mind to demand, after he had refused me some dinner, +an explanation as to why he received me in that way. But there was +no need for me to speak, for the explanation came at once. "Look +here," said he, "do you mean to tell me that you are looking for +work?" "Nothing is more certain," I answered. "What!" he shouted; +"didn't I see you playing ball with the children all day yesterday, +only a few yards from here? Didn't I see you this morning holding +the skipping-rope for some girls?" There was no escape from these +questions, so I began to retreat. Perhaps that was the reason—that +I had not made the least attempt to excuse myself—why he called me +back and invited me indoors. And I must say that his good lady, who +was smiling and laughing all the time, served me with an excellent +dinner. In spite of this, I thought it wise not to be seen again in +that happy green place, for fear that he might draw the attention of +the police to me. So, being deprived of the pleasure of playing ball, +I left Toronto, too down-hearted to seek enjoyment in any other part +of that city, which was well known to be good all over.</p> + +<p>I could nearly always be sure of a dollar or two at these lake +towns—Chicago, Cleveland, Buffalo, Toronto, and others—owing to +my acquaintance with so many men. For almost all the cattlemen that +sailed from Baltimore in the winter, worked on the lakes in the +summer. They left Baltimore a week or two before navigation began +on the lakes, and as soon as it stopped they returned to work as +cattlemen between America and Europe. As there were scores of these +cattlemen, and I not only knew them all, but was liked, it was to my +advantage to make lake towns my haunts. Not one of them ever insulted +me with a hint that I should do as he did—work for my money. The +reason of this is that they all considered it their duty to assist +me, for I had often assisted them in other ways. For instance, when +they came back one by one and in twos and threes from the lakes, they +were always loth to start begging again in Baltimore, which they +must either do or starve. To make things worse, they would probably +have to wait a week or two before they could get a chance to sail +with cattle, for at this time the office would be full of men. Now, +as I was always back before them, they could rely on me for a little +assistance, for I would beg extra on their account. But for all that, +the money I got from them was more of a curse than a blessing, for +the reason that it often kept me several days in idleness; and, after +living in lazy respectability for three or four days, I always found +it hard to start again to earn my living as a beggar.</p> + +<p>It seems a mystery that these inland lakes should be sometimes +visited by such terrific storms. One winter, when I was in Chicago, I +went down to the waterside to see a ship in its last extremity. When +I got there I saw thousands of helpless people, watching a vessel +sinking before their eyes, no one being able to go to its assistance +in small boats. We could expect to see this happen on the wild +sea-coast, but this was an inland lake, and here was a city of more +than a million inhabitants. It is more to be wondered at by men who +have seen that beautiful lake almost without a ripple in summer-time.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">X</p> +<h2><a id="The-Happy-Life">The Happy Life</a></h2> + +<p>It is certainly a mystery how man got into this tangle, having to +conform to the rules of civilization—up in the morning at a certain +hour, and to bed at a certain time at night, with certain limited +intervals for meals; in fact a very slave to these conditions, and +so often without power of being otherwise. If he breaks his fetters +by indulging in more sleep, or prolonging his meals, he will starve, +for nuts are not now free for the picking, and fruits are not now the +free gift of Nature; for she herself is made the servant of landlords +who are tyrannical over their rights. It is only the small boys who +occasionally defy such laws by robbing an orchard and putting to +shame their big, cowardly fathers.</p> + +<p>When I consider what pleasure it gives me to lie abed in the mornings +at my own sweet will, I cannot help but feel pity for the great +majority who must needs rise to answer the demands of civilization. +Of course, I could not myself be so independent if I were not +contented with very little, and did not prefer freedom to fine +clothes and furniture and the luxuries of food.</p> + +<p>We know very well that the one happy hour in the week for a man of +business is when he wakes on a Sabbath morn, or a holiday, at his +usual time to rise, and finds, O joy! that he is privileged to lie in +bed, a free and a happy man.</p> + +<p>What a strange contrast there is between the man who lives in a +small house with just enough means, and no more, to keep him in idle +content, and the man who, to keep up a position, has a large house +with several servants, and worries himself night and day in business +to keep things standing! What a wise man is the former, and what a +poor fool is the latter! Position! What is it? It is to be pestered +by invitations to other people's houses, and to be worried again in +returning those invitations. How foolish is that business man, that +he does not sell out and retire to a small country cottage, with +his little income of a pound or twenty-five shillings a week, where +he could eat, sleep, and read in peace, and walk abroad admiring +Nature. Thousands of business men could do this, and would, if they +were wise enough to see what an empty thing position is.</p> + +<p>There are not many men in this world who appreciate more than I do +that precious gift called sleep. When I wake in the morning and look +at my watch, it may be seven o'clock. Then I question myself—"Shall +I get up? If I do, what for? No, gentle Sleep, one more hour with +thee." Then I sleep again and wake the second time, and ask this +question again—"Shall I get up?" What with yawning and stretching +it usually takes a quarter of an hour to answer, which makes the +time quarter past eight. Then I say to myself, "I will count fifty +before I get up." This I begin to do, very slowly; but when I have +done I usually make the fifty a hundred. This dallying with time is +very pleasant. Sometimes I return to bed after I have got up, and +have even undressed for that purpose. To make a candid confession, I +have—not often—got up, dressed, and then returned to bed with my +clothes on, so as to enjoy another nap and be at no pains to dress +again.</p> + +<p>I remember making one trip on a cattle-boat, and on the return voyage +to Baltimore there was no work to be done, we cattlemen being then +counted as passengers. The nearest approach to work of any kind was +that two men were commissioned each day to fetch food from the galley +and to sweep the forecastle—the latter duty not to be strictly +enforced. Now, it happened that there were fifteen cattlemen, so +that one man would be exempt from even such petty duties as these. +We therefore cast lots, and the laziest man was fortunate to win. It +was Baldy, who, on hearing the decision, crept back into his bunk +and remained there for the rest of the voyage. When the meals came, +he sat up and requested some kind hand to pass him his food, and, +after returning the empty dishes to the same kind hand, settled down +for another sleep. One night the ship, being light, rolled so much +that we were all thrown out of our bunks, all except Baldy. That same +night we rushed on deck, cattlemen, sailors, and firemen, for the +coal-bunkers had been broken in by the waves, and coal filled the +galley, and the cattle-pens were smashed and taken to sea, and crash +followed crash until we thought our end had come—and yet Baldy, +whatever his feelings were, never left his bunk.</p> + +<p>When we arrived at Baltimore we were all, as usual, without money. +On Baldy being roused and told we were about to go ashore, he began +slowly to rise, but it was only after making several attempts that +he succeeded in standing on his feet. My heart went out in pity for +the poor fellow, for it was as much as three of us could do to get +him up the forecastle steps. It was with great difficulty that he +passed the doctor, for that gentleman happened to see him totter, +and he had an idea that Baldy and, in fact, all the crew should be +quarantined; but on receiving an explanation that Baldy's legs were +weak through inactivity, he allowed us to go ashore. The distance +to the cattlemen's office was over a mile, and poor Baldy could not +possibly walk that distance, and, as I have said, we were all without +money. But as luck would have it, a gentleman saw Baldy's condition +and gave him five cents to pay car fare, so we helped the poor fellow +into the car, which would take him right to the door of the office.</p> + +<p>Honestly, if I had not been cursed with ambition to excel in +literature, I would have remained a beggar to the end of my days; +to winter in such towns as Baltimore, and spend my summer months in +travelling through the green country, with short stops here and there +in cities and large towns.</p> + +<p>What a life it is! To study faces and the strange humours of +different people. Yes, when I was about to call at a house for my +dinner, the Baltimore Kid suddenly clutched my shoulders, and said +impressively: "Whatever you do, do not address that woman as Lady, +but call her Madam, or Mrs." Just to humour the Kid, for I thought +such advice was ridiculous, I addressed the lady as Madam, and +explained my needs. She motioned me to a small, wooden outhouse, +which I entered, and seeing a chair and a table, sat down. In about +two minutes the lady reappeared, carrying a hot dinner, for which I +stood, as became a gentleman, and thanked her, saying: "I thank you, +Madam," but was almost on the point of saying "lady." After having +had dinner, I went to the back door and knocked, to thank her for +her kindness. "You are quite welcome," she said; "the only people I +refuse are those who say 'lady,' for I have cause to believe that +such people are professional beggars." You see, by this instance, +how one little word can assist or spoil a man in his profession.</p> + +<p>The Baltimore Kid was one of the keenest beggars in America. The +sight or sound of money put the very devil in him. If he heard +coins rattling in the pockets of a passer-by, he would follow that +person side by side, up one street and down another until he had +succeeded in talking the man out of a coin. If he saw a lady open +her purse, he was at once at her side, and explaining his position. +He boasted that he had begged the President, when the latter was +visiting his paternal home. The Kid had intended to beg the house +for clothes, but, seeing the President alone in the garden, quickly +altered his mind. He claimed to have then talked the gentleman +out of a five-dollar bill. Whether this story was true or not, I +cannot say, but I am certain of one thing—that it was only the +want of opportunity that would keep it from being attempted. The +pomp and splendour of Solomon's throne would not have daunted the +Baltimore Kid, if he saw the way clear of stern guards and meddlesome +attendants. Many of the great capitalists of America, and many +Europeans of title, had succumbed to the Kid's voice. Yes, he has +often related to me how easy he found the Grand Duke of Gorgonzola, +and how long it took to convince Tomkins the millionaire butcher.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XI</p> +<h2><a id="Boy-Desperadoes">Boy Desperadoes</a></h2> + +<p>The danger of our slums is not caused so much by men as by boys; +and some of the latter are so young that they have not yet taken to +drink, although they have smoked cigarettes for years. These half +boys and half men are far more dangerous than full-grown bullies. The +reason is that they do not think of the consequences, and they work +themselves into an hysterical passion that often results in brutal +murder. One time I was in a small town in America when a young outlaw +of eighteen years was being tried for killing about half a dozen +men, and half killing a number of others, all in his short career. +No doubt this sounds like very high brutal courage, but the truth +of the matter is that it was the lowest cowardice. He was too young +to have that cool courage of a man who bids another to stand and +deliver and, after committing robbery, walks away without more ado. +This boy, full of fear, no sooner saw the motion of another than he +pulled the trigger, in fear of his own life. I don't suppose that +there was ever a man outlaw in America that was so dangerous as this +youth. Again, men are robbers for gain, and nothing else; but when a +number of these half boys and half men are together, they want sport +and romance as well. They would not be satisfied with robbing a man, +but would like to show their power after. What makes these youths so +dangerous is that they obey the first impulse, which, more often than +not, is a cruel one; and the cruelty increases with their strength of +number.</p> + +<p>One time I saw a dozen boys on the levee in St. Louis hold up and +rob every man they came to. They not only did this, but, as usual +with them, started to beat the man after, kicking and punching him, +until he had to run for his life. This happened in broad daylight; +but they took care, as hysterical as they were, not to interfere with +more than two men at a time, in spite of their number. These boys +were quite dangerous, with revolvers, razors, knives, and clubs; and +they uttered the most fearful oaths, and yelled like savages. No +doubt, if they had met a stubborn man, who refused to either escape +or humour them, they would have killed him. Now, what could a man do +against these blind, desperate young bullies? If he had a revolver, +he could hold back a dozen men by threatening to shoot the first man +that advanced, and each man would have had enough sense to see the +folly of risking his life. But these youths would have rushed on in +their blind passion, and whether you shot one or not, you could not +escape being half killed or killed by the others. These half boys and +half men have no idea of fair play; if a man goes down, they will +take good care that he does not rise again to renew the battle, for +they will kick him into unconsciousness.</p> + +<p>It is these young bullies, and not grown men, that make the slums of +London and other large cities so dangerous. They feel the strength +of the coming man, and they are eager to try it. So, when they see a +man drunk, and scarcely capable of looking after himself, they begin +to jibe him. The poor fool, courageous in drink, and seeing that they +are no more than boys, stops to abuse them. It is then that one of +them steps forward and sometimes, to disguise his intention, holds +out the hand of friendship, and the poor drunkard receives a blow in +the face instead. Of course, this exasperates him, and he attacks +them all. If it is day, the young bullies escape laughing, but if +it is night, and the place quiet, they will all try their strength +on him, and probably leave him insensible in the gutter. If they +cannot trip a man or knock him down, they kick or use the buckles of +belts, and they give him great cause to remember the occasion. Nearly +all these young bullies wear strong leather belts with heavy solid +buckles, and they know well how to use them.</p> + +<p>Any common lodging-house that harbours a gang of five or six of these +half boys and half men is a very dangerous place in which to live. If +there is a full-grown bully there, he will be very cautious not to +offend any of these, however he may try to intimidate other lodgers. +I left one lodging-house, after staying there a week, because of +three of these young ruffians, who seemed to do as they liked. At +that house there was a big bully, a man six feet in height and heavy +in build. This big fellow was continually grumbling and threatening +the old lodgers, but never interfered with the younger ones, +although they often laughed at him in mockery. But one day, when he +was cooking at the fire, one of these young ruffians, accidentally it +seemed, pushed him, and the big bully turned with his usual oath and +uplifted hand. Now, no doubt, if the kitchen had been empty, he would +have pretended to be satisfied with the young ruffian's sneering +apology, but seeing so many witnesses, he thought it was his duty to +show what he was, so he gave the youngster a slap in the face. The +latter did not attempt to retaliate, for he had not the assistance of +his friends. No doubt he told them of it that night, when they were +all together. A few mornings after this the big bully was found dead +in bed; his death being caused by a blow in the back of the head, +received in a fall. It seemed that he had had enough strength to +walk to the lodging-house and get into bed, and had died afterward. +There were several beds in that room, but none of the other lodgers +had heard anything unusual in the night, although they saw that the +man staggered into the room. There can be no doubt but what he was +drunk, but drunken men do not often fall down and deal themselves +death-blows—they only collapse. My opinion is that these young +ruffians had waylaid him away from the house, and seeing that he was +drunk, helped him to his fall. These young bullies never forgive, and +never forget. If one is threatened when he is without the support of +others, he will not rest satisfied until he gets their help and takes +vengeance.</p> + +<p>What makes full-grown men so much afraid of these half boys and half +men is their entire recklessness. They will use knife, poker, fork, +or anything that is near their hands. One day I saw one of these +young bullies deliberately poke an old man's eye out. The man was +well known to be very quiet and not at all ill-tempered; and when he +asked that the table should not be shaken because of his tea—this +boy sprang to his feet and, without a word, poked the old man's eye +out. A cruel, unfeeling action of this kind would never enter the +mind of a full-grown man, however great a bully he might be; only an +impulsive, irresponsible youth of this kind would do such a deed.</p> + +<p>In some lodging-houses the manager will not let beds to more than +two of these half boys and half men, for he knows from experience +the trouble they make; and that old and quiet lodgers will fear them +so much that they will go elsewhere. For these young bullies have no +sympathy with age or affliction, and it would not be well for a blind +man to expect them to use restraint and humour him in everything. +They feel the strength of manhood coming on them, and they do not +know what to do with it. All these lads are out of steady employment +and doing a few odd jobs often too light for them, and their growing +strength is not getting sufficient use. So, when they are standing +at street corners, they are always eager for action, and the man +that takes notice of their insults or missiles, will most likely +soon be in a pitiful state. It is these sober young bullies that +smoke cigarettes at street corners, and not full-grown bullies in +public houses, that a stranger has to fear. The latter make enough +noise, when they are going home at night, singing or fighting among +themselves, but they seldom interfere with strangers. But the young +bullies, that are neither boys nor men, allow their animal spirits +full play, and are only too eager to interfere with anyone.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XII</p> +<h2><a id="American-and-English-Beggars">American and English Beggars</a></h2> + +<p>A man that has camped out much in the open air must always after be +on the look-out for places suitable for camps. So whenever I cross +over a country bridge, under which runs a narrow stream, I often +stand and look along the stream's banks in quest of a shady tree to +sit out of the sun, happy to know that I can seek shelter under the +bridge in case of rain. Yes, there is plenty of dry wood for cooking +purposes, and fresh water in a delightful state of activity, and +the bridge to be my shelter in a storm—such is an ideal spot for a +camp. If I find this place in England there will be seen a sign that +trespassers will be prosecuted, and for that reason the spot remains, +and will remain, in its virgin state, untrodden by the foot of man. +But if I am in America I shall not see that sign, and therefore at +once take possession, and I know well that I shall find embers of +past fires, and a quiet search in the adjoining bush will bring to +light the rude cooking utensils used by former occupants.</p> + +<p>Alas for the strict regulations that govern this overcrowded land of +ours! If I have a houseboat I cannot move it without first apprising +the river commissioners and having their consent to do so. If I use +a bit of wild woodland, untilled, and without fruit, cattle, or any +other money-making stock, I am ordered to put out my fire by a man +who can produce papers to show his authority. Our liberties extend so +far, and no farther, and we are not free to periodically enjoy the +sweet open-air life of our ancestors. A free country indeed! Even +if I own a cottage, with a piece of land, and have my title deeds +to show for it, the sporting gentry can over-run it after a fox. +And, although compensation can be claimed for damage done to a field +of turnips, I would be laughed at for a mad eccentric if I asked +compensation for the rude trampling of my garden flowers. But things +are different in America, and, for that matter, in all new countries. +The woods belong to all comers and all that is found therein—sunny +glades and shady trees, birds, springs, flowers, and squirrels. +No stranger to demand by what authority I camp there; and any +respectable stranger that chanced to come near would no more think +of entering my camp without an invitation than he would of entering +my town house. For in America it is customary for all classes of +families to forsake their homes for a few days in the summer and camp +out, sometimes only on the outskirts of the town and within easy +distance of their homes. These outings cost little, are healthy, and +the whole family are together; and it only requires care that the +smallest and youngest does not roll into the rill and get drowned—a +rill that in certain parts is often as much as three inches deep.</p> + +<p>But the man to whom this kind of life properly belongs is the +American tramp. His camp is to be found on the outskirts of every +town, either on the northern, southern, eastern, or western end; and +it is not uncommon to find a camp at each end. The camp is his great +institution, a club and private residence; from which he sallies on +his begging expeditions, and to which he returns with his spoils; at +which place he cooks, eats, reads, discourses, takes his afternoon +nap, washes his clothes, or discards them for others lately acquired. +There they build their fires near running water, around which they +sit at night and relate their day's experience.</p> + +<p>The Baltimore Kid was that morning offered work, but had taken +the insult good-naturedly, having retired without wasting time in +excuses. His companions laugh heartily at this, to imagine the Kid at +work, and Philadelphia Baldy enquires philosophically, "What is work, +boys?" These men are all downrighters; that is, none of them make any +pretence of selling cheap goods, but beg food and money straight.</p> + +<p>Begging in England is certainly a fine art, and it is very difficult +to live except beggars carry in their hands pins, needles, laces, +wire goods, artificial flowers, a tin whistle, accordion, etc., +and hide themselves as beggars behind these things. Even then they +make very little, if they are indifferent to the art of begging; +for it is not sufficient to sell a farthing pair of laces for a +penny, but to tell such a pitiful story that the buyer—out of pity +for your misfortunes—returns the laces after paying for them, and +occasionally adds a piece of cake to her kindness. That is the real +art of begging; and the man who cannot make threepence or more out of +a farthing stud, a farthing's worth of pins, or a farthing pair of +laces, is no more than a very small and unsuccessful business man, +and is not worthy the name of a beggar.</p> + +<p>The art of begging is not nearly so fine in America as it is in +England, for there is no necessity in that country of making any +pretence of selling; and money, food, and clothes are to be had for +the mere asking. The American beggar uses few words, for he knows +well that whoever can afford will give, and he is too cunning to +employ pitiful tales, which would be apt to encumber him with a +quantity of common bread and butter, from people who have nothing +ready cooked. For this reason he pockets the few trifles in the way +of sandwiches and cakes, and proceeds leisurely from house to house, +until he is seated at the table like a Christian, and supplied with +a hot meal, which is the end he seeks, and which seldom fails. After +which he returns to the camp, unloads his pockets of their trifles, +and reads, and talks with his companions until supper-time, which we +in England call tea-time. Then he takes a tin can to the spring, +places it full of water on the fire, and makes hot coffee, with which +he devours his trifles. He has had a hot breakfast and a hot dinner, +and he is quite satisfied to eat one meal a day that only consists of +cold meat, bread and butter, and a cake or two.</p> + +<p>The American tramp sits comfortably at his camp fire, waiting the +sound of a shrill whistle, or bell, which proclaims dinner-time. +Five or ten minutes after hearing this sound, he dances out of +camp, humming a tune, and goes begging as though he were going to +a wedding, and he is often served with a hot dinner before the man +of business can finish his own. But the poor English beggar makes +funeral steps between meals, and asks for a mouthful of bread. The +American beggar pulls the door bell, and makes himself heard the +first time; but the English beggar timidly uses his knuckles on the +back door, many times before he is heard. The American beggar rides +on trains from town to town, but the English beggar tramps the hard +roads. The English beggar explains his wants to the servants and +children, but the American beggar asks to see the mistress. The +American beggar, feeling himself a proud and free citizen, addresses +himself familiarly to anyone; but the English beggar, feeling himself +a despised outcast, will not speak except in want, or when he is +first spoken to.</p> + +<p>Yes, begging in America is fascinating, without doubt; and it is no +wonder that the tribe has increased to such an enormous extent. But +in England it is such a fine art, and requires so much persistence to +attain small ends, that there are few that can master it thoroughly. +What did Chicago Fatty do when he visited Liverpool on a cattle-boat? +He asked forty men for a copper towards paying for a fourpenny bed, +and the result was twopence threefarthings—and the workhouse. +Begging in England nearly broke his heart and so sickened him that, +when he returned to his own country, New York Slim and Boston Shorty +had to feed him, as though he were a babe in arms, until he recovered +sufficiently to help himself. Blacky—the half-breed—who claimed to +have enough Indian blood in his veins to make himself dangerous if +he had cause—Blacky, I say, thought that Fatty would never again +be a good beggar. It certainly seemed, for a long time, that this +would be the case, until one morning Fatty went out and begged his +breakfast, but nothing more. He went out again, begged a meal, a +shirt, and a handkerchief. In a day or two this good beggar—almost +ruined by a trip to England—began to take a man with him to carry +the spoils, as he had been accustomed to do in his prosperous days.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XIII</p> +<h2><a id="Beggars-Slang">Beggars' Slang</a></h2> + +<p>Women, strange to say, take far more pride than men in using slang. +To listen to two women relating their experiences in a country common +lodging-house is almost to hear a foreign language. I cannot think +that a woman takes more pleasure or near so much, in a wandering, +homeless life, as a man. Nevertheless, it is plain that women affect +to enjoy it more. In fact, I have often heard women boast of being +on the road a certain number of years, but have seldom heard a man +take the trouble to mention such a thing. In spite of this, one thing +proves that a woman of this kind speaks false and is trying to make +the best of a strange life. It is this—when she and her husband +are settled in a lodging-house, he is always the first to propose +taking to the road again, and the woman always inclines to postpone +that event for another day. If they are old travellers, they are +sure to see in every lodging-house others they have met before, and +that is why the woman would like to settle for a few days; but the +man, being less sociable, is more restless. What surprised me, when +I first went on the road in England, was to see how sociable these +people were, calling each other by some kind of name, as though +they had lived there always, or had always travelled together. It +was some time before I discovered the reason of this. Naturally, +my first impression had been that a score or more men and women +would meet, coming from different towns, and not know each other; +and, after having a night's lodging, would continue their travels +and perhaps never meet again. But, to my surprise, I often entered +a lodging-house where there would be a dozen lodgers or more, and +I would be the only stranger there. I soon got to know that these +temporary lodgers had been beggars for years, and one of them could +not possibly appear in a lodging-house without meeting others he +had met before. The reason of this is that most beggars have their +favourite counties, which they seldom leave, and if they do not meet +in a lodging-house they meet on the road. There are hundreds of +beggars that work in a circle around London, within ten, fifteen, +twenty, or thirty miles; and, seeing that some of them have been +doing this for years, it is not surprising that they recognize one +another at the different lodging-houses. The second night that I was +on the road in England, I went to a lodging-house in Luton and, of +course, expected to find a dozen or more strangers to the town, like +myself, who would sleep there one night, part the next morning, and +never meet again. But when I entered the kitchen I found a number of +lodgers, men and women, who were calling each other by name—Brum, +Norfolk, Sal, and Liz. In fact, I was the only stranger present, and +yet all these were wanderers, and never travelled together. Very few +of these were downright beggars, but had some trifle to sell. Their +pride was in being able to beg under the disguise of selling.</p> + +<p>I never knew that beggars had so many slang words until I had been +on the road for several weeks and was in Gloucestershire. I had +heard a number of strange words, but had not heard any sustained +conversation. But one day, when walking from Stroud into Gloucester, +I happened to meet a real beggar. It was close on evening and, as I +had done well enough to be able to pay for my bed, I was making all +speed to a lodging-house. Soon I heard quick steps behind me, and +was overtaken by another beggar, who walked at my side and entered +into conversation. Hearing where I was going to he asked me if I +knew Gloucester and, if so, what lodging-house I intended to go to. +Telling him that I did not know that town, and would have to enquire +about a lodging-house, he at once offered to conduct me to one, +saying that there were several and that he knew the best. I was very +glad of this offer, and we trudged along in pleasant conversation. +Now, this man's conversation was as pure from slang as mine, which +surprised me, for he was an old beggar, though perhaps not over +thirty-five years of age. I may as well say here what kind of begging +the man was doing at this time of his life, which became known to me +after, for I had his company for several days. He had taken advantage +of the South African War, saying that he had been invalided home. +As you may guess, he was a fraud, and had never been in the Army. +This man carried forged letters, supposed to be recommendations +from officers under whom he had served. With these he called at the +houses of old, retired military men and others, sending the papers +in by a servant. All he had to do was to find out the names and +addresses of these old officers, one or two of whom are to be found +near every little hamlet or village. This was not difficult, for he +knew the counties of Gloucestershire and Monmouthshire well; and +every lodging-house has a town beggar who can give names, addresses, +histories, and describe the position and appearance of houses wanted. +Very well, then, this beggar would go to the house of one of these +rich, retired military officers and, when the servant opened the +door, would give her his papers to be taken to her master. In a few +moments she would return with the papers and probably a shilling or +a two-shilling piece on top of them. As can be expected, this man +had several times been so closely questioned that he had compromised +himself, and had been threatened with prison as a fraud. However, +he was so bold, and knew his subject so well, that this had not +often happened. At the houses of rich civilians he was safer, but, +naturally, they would not give so much as a gentleman who had served +in the Army. At this stage of his career this ambitious beggar did +not often call at small houses for pennies, but large houses for +silver. I soon found out his history, for he seemed nothing loth +to talk of himself. He had taken to the road early, not having +worked for a living since he was a youth. In those early days he had +worked for a printer, and had caught his little finger in one of the +machines. This accident did not handicap him in any way, and was no +excuse for his leaving at once and becoming a beggar. In after years +he never forgot to call two or three times a year on the printer, who +had a fine business, and hold up his little finger; an action which +won him a piece of silver every time. It was by his little finger +that he proved his identity—that he was the boy that had worked for +the printer in years gone.</p> + +<p>It was when I heard this man and another in conversation that I +first became surprised at the number of slang words that beggars +use. As I have said, he used no slang during our walk, but we had +no sooner entered a lodging-house and he met a beggar he knew, than +his language was completely changed. When we were entering the city +of Gloucester, he had called at a big, red house, which he told me +was always good for twopence and a parcel of food, no more or less. +He explained to me that he would not go out of his way for it, but +thought he may as well have it, seeing that he was passing the house. +It was in relation to this house that he spoke to his companion, +using the following words: "I called at the big, red kennel and got +my eight farthings and scrand." To which the other said: "That kennel +never yet failed a needy." This conversation quite interested me; +kennel was house; eight farthings was twopence; scrand was food; and +needy was beggar.</p> + +<p>Beggars in London lodging-houses use the slang of lodging-houses, and +not of the road. They always say "fourpence for 'doss' or 'kip'"; +but true, wandering beggars say "sixteen farthings for the feather." +The former say "chuck" or "tommy," when they refer to food; but the +latter say "scrand." The wandering beggar says "skimish" for drink, +but city beggars say "bouse." The word "mouch" is not often heard +outside towns, for wandering beggars say "call." For instance, "it +is a good road to call," or "there is plenty of calling"; meaning +that the road has many houses. They often use the word "lay." When +a beggar asks another if a certain town is good, the former is +asked, "What is your lay?" or, "It depends on your lay"; meaning: +"What do you do—sell, sing, or go in for downright begging?" What +always surprised me was to hear old beggars use the dignified +word "travellers," in preference to beggars, needies, or callers. +When they are talking of a good town, they say "it is good for +travellers." And if they see a selfish lodger monopolizing the fire, +or not making room on the table for others, they say "he's not a true +traveller."</p> + +<p>The following are a few slang words used by beggars:—</p> + +<p>Beggars—travellers or needies; house—kennel; on the road—on the +toe be; talk—patter; sing—griddle or chant; fourpence—sixteen +farthings; bed—feather; soup—shackles; profit—bunts; food—scrand; +drink—skimish; pins—pricks; needles—sharps; laces—stretchers; +scissors—snips; combs—rakes; spectacles—glims; pictures—smuts.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XIV</p> +<h2><a id="Bonys-Wits">Bony's Wits</a></h2> + +<p>We called him "Bony," because he was all skin and bones. This +condition must have been constitutional, for it certainly was +not from too much activity, seeing that he went by tram on his +expeditions, and returned in the same manner. Again, it could not +have been for want of good food, for Bony was a good beggar, and +scorned to sit down to a bread-and-butter meal. He was also a good +ale drinker, and, if his bones had been capable of growing flesh, it +is very likely that ale would have helped to bring about that result. +He was always heard to be humming a tune—often an old familiar +hymn—so that it could not have been mental worry that fastened +his skin so tight to his bones. No, his condition must have been +constitutional.</p> + +<p>I had known Bony for several months, and now that I had fallen on +evil times, and would in less than a week be compelled to travel +the country, I thought that perhaps my friend Bony could give me +a few hints, that would assist me in procuring food and lodgings. +Therefore, one evening, after he had had tea and was emptying his +pockets of tram fare tickets, I invited him outside to have a drink. +This invitation he would accept only on one condition—that I would +then have another with him. Having no objection to this, we left the +house together, and were soon comfortably seated in the warm corner +of an alehouse.</p> + +<p>After we had had the second drink, I began by asking Bony what he +considered to be the most essential gift for a good beggar. Without +immediately answering this question, he called for two more drinks, +and, after they had been served, and he had praised the colour of +the ale, he began. "The one thing, above all others, is to have +ready wit, so as to take advantage of opportunities that come and go +in a second, and give no time for second thoughts. For instance," +continued Bony, "when I was in the country some time ago, I called +at a house for a glass of water. I did not think that there was +the least prospect of getting tea, as the time was between meals; +therefore, being dry, I asked for water. A little girl answered +the door, and after hearing my wants, returned to tell her mother. +'Certainly,' said the mother; 'he could have had a cup of tea, if he +had asked for it, but perhaps he prefers water.' These words were +said so low that they could not have been heard, except by a man who +had all his wits about him. So, when the little girl returned with +the water, I told her, in a voice loud enough to be heard in the +house, that I was really sick for a hot drink of tea, but that it +was not the tea-hour, and I must be content with water. I lifted the +glass of water slowly to my lips, so slowly that the lady had heard +my remark, weighed it for a second, and then promised a cup of tea, +before my lips had touched the water. And, of course, the kind lady +asked me if I would like a piece of cake to eat with the tea. You +see," continued Bony, "how a man needs to keep his wits at work. Nine +beggars out of ten would not have heard or, having heard, would have +accepted the water and cursed themselves inwardly that they had not +asked for tea." I was so interested in this recital that I called for +two more drinks.</p> + +<p>"Again," said Bony, after praising the colour of the liquor, "I +happened one day to see a lady and gentleman approaching, and +determined to accost them. As they drew near, I saw a crust of bread +on the road, and that was my chance. Casting a hasty look behind me, +as though I did not wish to be seen, I stooped, picked up the crust, +and pretended to take a bite; and then I feigned seeing them for +the first time, and hastily concealed the crust in my clothes. That +little trick worked out well, for the lady gave me sixpence, and the +gentleman gave me a shilling, and not a word passed between us."</p> + +<p>Bony now called for two more drinks, and, after remarking that the +colour of the ale was getting no worse, continued his experiences.</p> + +<p>"One day," he began, "I was walking the high-road when a gentleman on +a bicycle ran into me, knocking me down and throwing himself into the +hedge. It did me no harm at all, for I was soon on my feet and going +to his assistance. All my consideration was for him, thinking he +might be seriously hurt. To my surprise he was not, but much shaken. +After he had sufficiently recovered his breath he looked towards me +and said: 'Are you hurt, my poor man?' Quick as a flash it occurred +to me that I was, and I began to limp painfully. 'How far are you +going?' he asked. I mentioned a town four miles away, and said that +I had no doubt but what I could walk there, but that on my reaching +that place it would probably be a week or more before I would be able +to work, even if I could get it, and that I had no means whatever +to keep myself idle in lodgings for that length of time. 'Are you +sure that you can walk there without assistance?' he asked. 'Yes,' I +said, 'by taking my time.' 'I am very sorry for you,' said he, 'and +if this can be of help you are heartily welcome to it'—with that he +placed in my hand a gold half-sovereign. Telling him I was ashamed +to take advantage of what was no more than a pure accident, but that +my straitened circumstances compelled me to do so, and saying how +glad I was that he received no hurt, I left him, and began to limp +painfully on my way. I had not got many yards, when he was again at +my side, and, giving me his card, asked me to write in the course of +a day or two, and let him know of my progress. And, you may depend +on it," said Bony, with a grin, "that I did write on the third day, +saying that I was doing well—for I feared a personal visit from him, +with a doctor—and that in three or four more days I would be in a +fit condition to work. He wrote a very kind letter in answer, with +a postal order enclosed for ten shillings. Of course, I still keep +the gentleman's address, and call on him occasionally, and I always +receive a good meal and a shilling, and sometimes clothes as well."</p> + +<p>"Have another drink, Bony," said I.</p> + +<p>After the drinks were brought, and Bony had passed his usual comment +on the colour, he went on to tell how necessary it was to keep a +civil tongue on all occasions. "One day," said he, "a little man +whom I could have crushed in my arms, called me all the big, idle +vagabonds he could think of. But I allowed him free speech, knowing +that he would be so pleased to see a man timid, who was almost twice +his size, that he would at last become generous out of sheer delight, +and such was the case.</p> + +<p>"On another occasion I called at a lady's house, and received +sixpence for my trouble, which was the first bit of silver that I +had seen for several days, and for which I thanked her from the +bottom of my heart. She stood at the door, as I was leaving, and +said: 'Poor, unfortunate man!' 'Madam,' I answered, returning, for +I was almost at the gate—'Madam,' I said, 'I am thankful to say +that I am not half so unfortunate as my poor brother, who has weak +intellect.' 'Oh, I am deeply moved to hear that,' said the kind lady, +'and will give you another sixpence for your poor brother.'</p> + +<p>"These incidents," continued Bony, "prove how necessary it is to +have quick wits. Only last week, within a mile of this alehouse, I +got a two-shilling piece from a man in a very simple manner. I had +been calling at the alehouses all the evening, and was returning home +with three or four shillings worth of coppers in my pockets, not to +mention the pleasant effect on my system of several free drinks of +good strong ale.</p> + +<p>"When I was on the bridge, I had my attention drawn to the sound of +voices in a small boat running under the bridge, which made me pause +and, leaning on the balustrade, look down into the river. This was +not done so much from curiosity, but that I was beginning to feel +tired. At that hour of the night the bridge was almost deserted, and +I was just on the point of moving on when a gentle hand fell on my +shoulder, and a voice kind and earnest said: 'Don't, I entreat you, +destroy your immortal soul; don't, my dear brother, plunge into the +dark waters.' I must confess that, for one moment, my wits entirely +deserted me, and if the speaker had not still held me in his grasp, +and continued his persuasion, I should have been foolish enough to +explain that such was not my intention. But I soon recovered from my +astonishment, and allowed him to lead me over the bridge. When we +stood safely on the other side, he asked me what could be done to +save me from self-destruction. Of course I had by this time recovered +my wits, and told him a harrowing tale of misfortune, which earned me +that gentleman's pity to the extent of two shillings. After receiving +my promise that I would live and face misfortune like a man, he left +me, and I, well pleased at such good fortune, sought my lodgings."</p> + +<p>These incidents, as related by Bony, proved to me how necessary it +was for a man to be quick-witted, if he would excel as a beggar.</p> + +<p>After several more drinks we left for home, for the colour of the ale +did not seem so good as when we first entered the place.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XV</p> +<h2><a id="Favouritism">Favouritism</a></h2> + +<p>One of the worst enemies to a poor man in a common lodging-house is +favouritism. I have seen hundreds of instances where a man could +be comparatively happy were it not for a prejudiced porter or +kitchen-man. I was not long in one large house before I saw this, +in the case of a porter, a bully, and a gentleman. The bully was +drunk and going from place to place, insulting everyone, especially +those that were better dressed than himself. Few of the lodgers took +any notice of him, until he came to one that had on a silk hat and +a frock-coat. This man lost his temper and told the bully that he +had no right to interfere with men that wanted to be quiet. He was +in the act of uttering this dignified rebuke when a porter came and +stood before them. "What's the matter?" he asked. The well-dressed +man began a quiet explanation, but the bully interrupted him; so +the former stopped at once, thinking he would have a chance to speak +when the other had done. "You had better go to bed," said the porter +to the bully, "and"—addressing the well-dressed man—"you come with +me to the office." When they arrived at the office the porter said +a few words to the clerk, and the latter returned the well-dressed +man his money, telling him to go elsewhere for a bed. There were +very few lodgers in the house that did not know the meaning of this +injustice. The well-dressed man was a gentleman, and, in spite of his +low circumstances, did not forget it. He looked on the porters as his +servants and, when he met them in the street, never invited them to +have a drink. Again, there was no necessity for him to rise early, +whereas the bully gave a porter sixpence a week to be called every +morning.</p> + +<p>I was not many weeks at this house before I thoroughly understood +these matters. One night, when I was going to bed, a man, who was +quite tipsy, wanted to detain me in conversation, and I was doing +my best to escape, when up the stairs ran one of the porters. "Why +don't you go to bed?" he said to me. "You haven't to get up in the +morning, and others have." This porter had not heard my voice, and +he could see that the other man was drunk, but of course he set upon +me because the other paid to be called early. This porter became +more civil after, which I could well understand. I used to tip the +bath-porter twice a week, and seeing that they shared their tips—one +being in a better position than another to get them—so, no doubt, +the bath-porter had pointed me out for civility. There was no appeal +against these porters. They allowed some men to do things which +they got others turned out for, and it was no use trying to explain +oneself to the manager. Although I believe that he was a very just +man, he could not do otherwise than trust his men, say what they +would. In fact, I believe that this manager was so just that he would +have dismissed a porter at once if he could prove that that porter +was prejudiced against any of the lodgers and having them turned out +for his own spite.</p> + +<p>When I left this house and went to one that was in the hands of +Christianity, I found the same state of things. The Christian officer +behind the food-bar gave thick slices of bread to those he liked and +thin slices to others; and he skimmed the top of the soup for those +he did not like or was indifferent to, but his ladle went to the +bottom for favourites. The consequence was that some lodgers would +have hot, greasy water, while others would have thick soup that was +almost Irish stew. It was well worth while to bribe this man with a +drink of whisky. One artful lodger did better than that, as he told +me in confidence. This man behind the bar was not supposed to take +money for food; the lodgers had to buy tin checks at the office, with +which they paid for what they wanted. But my artful dodger would go +to the bar when no one was there to see, put a penny down and receive +what he asked for. The officer behind the bar would quickly take this +money, in spite of the strict rules and the severe discipline of that +Christian army. But if a newly-arrived stranger put money down, that +officer would shout, loud enough to be heard at the office—"We don't +take money behind the bar; go to the office for checks."</p> + +<p>When I first went to that lodging-house I had a small bundle, in +which were an extra shirt, a pair of stockings, a brush, razor, +and a few other articles. Seeing that all the lockers were in use, +I had no other option than to ask the kitchen-man to look after it, +for which I gave him twopence, although he had no claim to anything. +Whether the bar-man saw this deed or was told about it I cannot say, +but I know that I soon became one of his favourites. I may as well +say here that, judging by my later experience at this place, it was +well that I did tip the kitchen-man, for he often took a notion to +sell the things in his charge, only holding such property sacred as +had been tipped for. And yet on a Sunday afternoon these two, the +bar-man and the kitchen-man, would be seen one on each side of the +captain, and heard crowing like two cocks that challenge each other. +When the captain prayed one would shout "Hallelujah!" The other would +no sooner hear this than he would stretch his neck, grow red in the +face, and cry fiercely, "Praise the Lord!" These doings not only +amused the lodgers, but the principals as well; for, judging by their +faces, it was all they could do to keep from laughing outright.</p> + +<p>I was at one lodging-house where the beds were clean, the cooking +accommodation good, and, according to the small rent to be paid, +everything as could be desired. But this place was also spoilt by a +common kitchen-man, who made things uncomfortable for all those that +did not give him either money, ale, or tobacco. This man would build +the fire up when a disfavoured lodger was in the middle of cooking +a meal, and then sweep the dusty floor when he was at his meals. +Of course, these things had to be done, so that there was no use +in reporting him to the manager. Still, there was no reason why he +should make more dust around <i>your</i> food, and take longer under your +table than others, and build up the fire before there was actual need +of it. Yes, there was a reason—known to himself—you never gave him +anything.</p> + +<p>This kitchen-man upset me so much that I agreed with another lodger +to share a furnished bed sitting-room. Alas! I was soon back in the +same lodging-house, in spite of its crazy kitchen-man. The man with +whom I shared the room disappeared suddenly, and when I heard his +character I did likewise. Without my knowledge, he borrowed of the +landlady; and the vicar came to me saying that my friend had told him +that I was on the point of starvation, and got a shilling on that +account. Not knowing what else he had done in the neighbourhood, I +could not feel at ease. Therefore, not having the courage to give my +landlady notice, I put on all my clothes—two pairs of trousers, two +shirts, a waistcoat, two jackets, and an overcoat—and crept to the +front door. Seeing that I had filled the pockets with a number of +small articles, it did not surprise me much to find great difficulty +in moving. I do not know what I would have done if the landlady had +been at the front door, because I could not have squeezed past her, +and she could not have helped seeing that I was as broad as I was +long. What upset me was that she had said she would not have let the +room to him, but had trusted my face. However, I did not owe her any +rent, and if I ever meet her when I am better off I will give her a +sovereign.</p> + +<p>I have seen this favouritism even in prison. It came under my notice +in an American jail, where I had to serve fifteen days, and I was +as innocent as a new-born babe. All the prisoners were in one long +room, with cells on each side, in which they slept at night. At the +end of the room there was a square hole in the wall, which had a +slide; and it was through this hole that the prisoners received their +meals. When I went for my first meal, I could see the face of the old +cook—who was a prisoner—and was rather surprised to see him nod and +smile, as though he knew me. This smile was followed by a large plate +of food, much more than others. Perhaps the old prisoner-cook thought +he saw in me a fellow-prisoner in some other jail, and he may have +been right, for I had been in many others; or perhaps I resembled a +son of his. Whatever it was, it was quite clear that he did not give +me the plate that came to my turn, but kept one apart.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XVI</p> +<h2><a id="A-Law-to-Suppress-Vagrancy">A Law to Suppress Vagrancy</a></h2> + +<p>We are all deeply interested in any scheme that proposes to suppress +the workhouse tramp, who has not only become a pest to the ratepayers +of our country—who support so many workhouses—but has also brought +the true beggar to his wits' end to earn a livelihood. To all true +beggars, who systematically pursue their calling, the workhouse tramp +has become as much of an eyesore as he is to the working classes of +our land. This vagrant—whom the Law seems so much to disfavour—is, +without doubt, a madman; but, if rightly dealt with, is not, I +believe, incapable of being cured. That he will not work to maintain +himself in a good home, with food, bed, and clothing; and that he +prefers to break so many hundredweight of stone—a heavy task to be +performed on a bowl of thin gruel, or limited supply of bread and +water—that he prefers to do the latter is sufficient proof of the +man's mental deficiencies. To turn such a one into a useful member +of society would be to confer as great a benefit on him as on the +ratepayer of this country. Sometimes he cavils at the injustice of +such tasks, and is sent to prison for refusing to perform them; or, +the task being done, he tears in shreds his old rags, thinking to +obtain a new outfit at the ratepayers' expense. For this he is also +sentenced; for, though he has without doubt earned a cheap suit of +clothes, he is by no means entitled to any—not even to a pair of +stockings. Of course, our workhouses are not hotels, neither are they +rough boarding camps, so that the ratepayers are, after supporting +them, far from being relieved, seeing that this tramp is forced +to make personal application for more food, or starve. But what I +mention is that this man works hard and gets little for his trouble, +and that he could be made a useful member of society and obtain more +necessities—aye, even luxuries—by performing far less labour.</p> + +<p>For my own class, whom I as a proud member represent, the outlook +is indeed serious. Only yesterday an incident occurred which will, +I believe, explain how the workhouse tramp stands in the light of a +true beggar. I had seen a gentleman approaching in the distance, and +had in my own mind resolved that he should not pass without first +hearing my story. Being a clean man, keeping myself well shaved and +brushed, I had very little fear of disgusting him by my personal +appearance, making him seek to escape my importunities. It happened +as I expected. During my narrative he stood smiling for a minute or +two, for, you may depend, I gave him no time for excuse or question. +At last I finished, and stood waiting the result of my confessions, +which had been unusually pathetic. "My good fellow," said he, "I +have just given the last threepence to another unfortunate man, who +apparently was in greater need of assistance; I am very sorry." +There was no other course than to continue my journey, for it was +impossible to talk money out of an empty pocket. In five minutes +after I was hailed by a voice from the hedgerow, and, looking in +that direction, saw the most ragged man I had ever set eyes on, +with his matted hair a foot long. "Did you meet a gentleman on your +way?" he asked. "I did," said I; "and what of that?" "That man," +said this ragged tramp, "was a thoroughbred. He saw me sitting here +and, without a word from either of us, he emptied his pocket into my +hand"—saying which he withdrew his fingers from the palm of his hand +and disclosed to my view three pennies. Now, here was a workhouse +tramp—for he was no other, or he would at once have stepped into +the road and accosted the gentleman—receiving unsolicited alms; +and I, who earned my living by the use of my tongue, must suffer in +consequence.</p> + +<p>But the worst charge to be made against this class of vagrant is that +he does, by reason of his workhouse experience, look on common bread +as a luxury, and receives it with so many thanks, from the various +people on whom he calls, that these people soon become impressed +with the notion that dry bread can be applied with satisfaction as +a poultice in every case. In this way he spoils the road for good +beggars who, not going into workhouses, need coppers for their beds, +and who always make use of that indefinite term "something to eat," +but would not, on any account, remind their hearers of "a crust of +dry bread."</p> + +<p>Again, he spoils true beggars by his lack of system. A workhouse +tramp has not that energy and concentration which is required for +success. Sometimes he knocks at the first door in a street, after +which he walks to the next street, where he knocks at the middle +house, or perhaps the last; and, when the true beggar comes after +him, and beholds this timid fool running from side to side of a +street, he knows very well that the street is being spoiled, for +he cannot tell exactly where the other has been. In a case of this +kind it is best for the true, systematic beggar to go at once into +the next street, and it is not unlikely then but what he will soon +recognize the workhouse tramp at its other end. If the true beggar +had no other system than this—running here and there to chance +houses, at the sign of a green gate, or a church announcement in a +front window—he would soon be so confused as to where he had, or had +not been, that a good-sized town would in a very short time become +useless to him.</p> + +<p>To a true beggar the workhouse tramp is a mystery. The former cannot +understand how the latter can perform such stone-breaking feats on +a bread-and-water diet, and he wonders where lies the fascination +of such a life. He, himself, though he may rise penniless in the +morning, has confidence in the day's fulfilment, and he sometimes +meets with a surprise in the shape of a piece of silver. Sometimes +he calls at an alehouse, where a merry party is in full song, and to +them he offers to render harmony, provided they will favour him with +a collection. This proposition is invariably favoured, and the true +beggar then flatters the loudest and most persistent singer of the +party by giving him his cap to make that collection. Of course, he +is offered a glass of ale before he begins, and during the intervals +between verses he is not forgotten. As a rule he is not a sweet +singer, but his voice is thought to be remarkable, especially if he +sings a familiar air with a good chorus. If his hearers are half +blind with drink, and incapable of using their feet, it is well +for the true beggar to end his song with a dance. The most awkward +shuffling will appear to them as the movements of lightning. This +kindness on his part calls forth extra coppers and a more liberal +supply of ale. Now, what happens to shame this true beggar, and to +spoil him in the act of earning a livelihood? Why, one of these +ragged workhouse tramps walks in and begs a drink of water. Water! +mark you, when this true beggar is earning ale and money! Then what +wonder that such a man should become an eyesore to all classes of +men? He has no self-respect, for, whereas he often passes stores and +houses without calling at them, he is nothing backward in making +known his wants to true beggars. For sometimes he by accident picks +up sixpence, works for it, or receives it unsolicited, with which +he pays for his bed at a lodging-house. Then he, without shame or +self-respect, begs tea of one, sugar of another, and makes himself +a pest to all those who with an independent spirit do their begging +outside instead of inside a lodging-house, as he does. It is +fortunate for us that he does not get these sixpences often, and +that he is compelled almost night after night to the workhouse for +accommodation.</p> + +<p>The question is not altogether without humour, for these workhouse +tramps actually call themselves our brothers on the road. They stop +us familiarly on our way, and ask for information of workhouses, as +though we were one of themselves. One advises me not to go to a +certain workhouse, for they will make me break stones all the day +following, on a little dry bread and water. As though I ever, for one +moment, dreamed that such a lot would be mine! "My good fellow," says +I, "<i>lodging-houses</i> are made for true beggars, and not workhouses."</p> + +<p>For the above reasons I have become deeply interested in any scheme +to improve the condition of the workhouse tramp, for, as I have said, +he is not only a burden on the ratepayers of the country, but mars +the success of all true beggars. We are often, when in the act of +begging money for our beds, told to go to the workhouse; which is +owing to this workhouse tramp having communicated the intelligence +that he would be satisfied with bread, and that he is not in need of +money for a place to sleep, seeing that the workhouse can accommodate +him. For he becomes hardened to the indignities and heavy tasks set +before him, and at last looks on such a cold, wretched place as a +home, aye, even as a playground.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XVII</p> +<h2><a id="Stubborn-Invalids">Stubborn Invalids</a></h2> + +<p>It is a pathetic sight to see men dying in a lodging-house, fighting +against death day after day. The few healthy men that are present +are quite indifferent to life, and do not care if their health is +impaired through breathing in the same room as a dozen consumptives. +These healthy men are so thoughtless of themselves that they offer +their dying comrades saucers of tea, after which they drink with +their own lips perhaps on the same place as their unfortunate fellows +used. I have offered many a one of these poor fellows a drink of tea, +but was always very careful not to use the saucer after them. When +they wanted to return my kindness, and I did not like to wound their +feelings by refusing them, I always took a clean saucer from the +shelf, instead of using theirs.</p> + +<p>I well remember one man, who was in a terrible condition for the last +three months before he was carried to the hospital. He was a man of +about middle age, and his face was very white, and all day long he +was coughing and spitting in the kitchen, with only enough strength +in his body to take him to bed. Although I sat with my back to him at +meals, I could not help but hear the poor fellow, and could not help +a feeling of revulsion. In fact I began at last to look upon these +consumptives as murderers who, by their stubbornness in not going to +the hospital, were killing me and others with their breath.</p> + +<p>Some of these men are in receipt of small pensions, or get a little +assistance from relatives on the outside, and for this reason they +die sooner; for they have more leisure than others—who must go out +to earn a few pennies—at the coke fire. Little Punch is dead, who +might have lived for many more years, had he not been kept indoors so +much by outside assistance. In the spring this little fellow used to +set off with his pack as a pedlar through the country, and when he +returned at the end of summer was always in good condition, but was +as bad as ever after a month in the lodging-house. I believe he could +have prolonged his life ten or fifteen years, if he had rambled both +winter and summer.</p> + +<p>These men fight against going to the hospital and sit dying day after +day, making no complaint; until the lodging-house keeper is surprised +some morning to find them lying in bed, without the strength to rise. +Even then they swear it is only temporary indisposition, and that +after a few hours' rest they will be well again. Then the doctor is +called, and then comes the ambulance; but it is too late, for if +the men do not die on the way, they die soon after they reach the +hospital.</p> + +<p>Poor old Peter saw himself wasting away. He was six feet two inches +in height, but thin enough to be exhibited. He kept himself alive +by a merry heart, but his hollow, spasmodic laughter refused to +make his body fat. Up to the last he affected great cheerfulness, +but he could not cheat death any longer. It was impossible to feel +any revulsion against Peter; he did not spit about the place, and +though he was always coughing, the poor fellow had no strength to +make a disturbing noise: he could not be heard if you were not seated +next him. You could feel him cough, by the vibration of the bench +or table, more often than you could hear him. I also believe that +he had consideration for others, knowing that a sick man can make +himself unpleasant. Peter did nothing but win pity and goodwill, and +he returned it by endeavouring to be witty and cheerful.</p> + +<p>Old Scotty Bill, the flycatcher, is also dead. Consumption did +not claim him as a victim, for he died at the advanced age of +eighty-three, which was wonderful for a man who had spent the best +part of his life in a lodging-house. No doubt if he had lived under +better conditions, he would have reached a hundred years with ease. +All his interest was in flies. While other lodgers were discussing +the abundance of fish in Billingsgate, Scotty could be seen counting +the flies in the kitchen, as a sign whether he should go out with +his fly-papers or not. His language was very bad, and the last words +he was heard to utter surprised even those who were accustomed to +him, by their unusual weight and speed. He was another stubborn +invalid, and fought hard against going to the hospital. His death +was quite characteristic, and I can hardly imagine it otherwise. He, +like many another one, was found one morning helpless in bed, and +the manager, seeing that he was very ill, in spite of his assurance +to the contrary, sent at once for the doctor. But when the latter +arrived he and the manager were surprised to find the bed empty. On +making enquiries they were told that Scotty was in the kitchen, and +it was there that they found the old man, reading a newspaper. In +spite of this the doctor saw that Scotty was not in good condition +and tried to persuade him to go to bed, but this the old man swore +that he would not do, and demanded some reason for such a request. +Then there was a whispered consultation between the manager and the +doctor, and it was decided to send for the ambulance and have him +taken to the hospital whether he would or no. Now Scotty had lived in +that same lodging-house for over thirty years, and for that reason +was well known in the locality. Therefore, when the ambulance arrived +at the door, and a woman outside enquired of a lodger as to who the +ambulance was for, and was told of Scotty Bill, the news soon spread +abroad. In less than five minutes between twenty and thirty women +had assembled at the door. These women of the slums were never very +clean, and at the present time not one of them was in a fit condition +to answer her own door; but they forgot this in their anxiety to see +poor Scotty Bill and wish him a speedy recovery. At last the old +man appeared, and it staggered him to see the number of women at the +door. But when he heard them say, "Poor Bill"; and "Good luck to you, +Scotty"; his fury knew no bounds. Standing with one foot on the step, +he paused, and then poured forth such a torrent of abuse that some +of the women lost all sympathy with him and feebly retaliated. He +told them to go home and scrub their dirty faces, instead of coming +there to watch him—and other things not fit to mention. It was, they +confessed, the worst language they had ever heard—and more than one +of them was capable of using very strong words. That was the last +seen of Scotty Bill, and that was his dying speech, for he died on +his arrival at the hospital.</p> + +<p>I have heard of the death of a number more, men that lingered with +such determination that it almost seems as if they have taken +advantage of my absence and died; for they all seem to have gone one +after the other since I left. "One-eyed" Jim is dead. A terrible +cough he had, but his face and neck were always like raw beef. That +one eye of his blazed with such power that I have often imagined the +devil hard at work shovelling half a ton a coal a minute to supply +its fierce light. He also went off suddenly, walking the kitchen +floor on Monday, and lying cold and dead on the following day.</p> + +<p>"Rags" is also dead, the great drinker; the man who when abroad +complained that whiskey made him totter, whereas it was an +earthquake, that tumbled towers and made the firm-footed houses +reel. "The whiskey's in my legs," said "Rags," not knowing it was an +earthquake.</p> + +<p>"Monkey" Sam and the "Dodger" are both dead, and there is no doubt +but what the Dodger's death hastened Sam's. These two were the slyest +pair that I have ever met. I believe they understood each other's +thoughts so well that when one's body itched the other could, without +seeing his friend make a motion, scratch his own body at the exact +place. These two conversed by looks, and uttered very few words. +They were so well-matched and thought so much of one another, that +something more than accident must have brought two such men together. +It was always clear that if anything happened to part them, neither +one would seek friendship elsewhere.</p> + +<p>I had seen all these men fighting against death day after day, but +with such determination, that I can hardly believe the report that +calls them dead; especially as there is no proof of lettered stone, +seeing that they are all in paupers' graves. All these poor invalids +in common lodging-houses are under the impression that doctors, +when they find that their patients have no friends, and cannot be +thoroughly cured, kill them. That is why they are so stubborn, and +fight till they cannot move, before they will enter a hospital.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XVIII</p> +<h2><a id="The-Earnings-of-Beggars">The Earnings of Beggars</a></h2> + +<p>In writing of the earnings of beggars, I do not, of course, include +common tramps, who are satisfied with barns, sheds, empty houses +and workhouses; I write of true beggars, who have not lost their +self-respect, and who, by their exertions, are as sure of a bed at +night—although it is a different one—as other people that have +homes. If they sleep out of doors for a night or two in summer-time, +they do so for pleasure; as people with homes will, when they sleep +in hammocks under trees. The true beggar does not shirk business, or +save money by sleeping out; he still follows his calling and makes +the price of his bed, but in this instance he spends the money on ale +instead of stifling with so many others in a common lodging-house.</p> + +<p>A good beggar is always ready to seize opportunities. He will never +allow a man to pass on who greets him pleasantly, or requires +information, without either begging a copper, a pipeful of tobacco, +or even a match. I think now of that memorable morning in America, +when Brum, an excellent beggar, saw a lady kiss a horse. We were +at a camp fire making coffee, when I was startled by the unusual +eagerness of Brum's voice crying, "Look!" Following the direction of +his finger, I saw a lonely house on a hill, and near the house was +a lady in riding-habit, and she was patting a horse's neck. Seeing +nothing unusual in this, I said, "What's the matter?" "You were too +late to see," answered Brum; "she kissed the horse!" Now I am very +fond of dumb creatures, and was therefore very pleased to see Brum +moved so nobly by such an incident; but I was not allowed much time +to congratulate myself on meeting with such a kind-hearted companion, +for these were Brum's next words; "A lady that kisses a horse ought +to be good for a piece of silver"; and before I could utter a word he +had gone. This incident plainly shows how quick a good beggar is to +take advantage of an opportunity. And Brum was right, for he not only +returned with a piece of silver in his pocket, but also a parcel of +food in his hand.</p> + +<p>Of course, second-rate beggars in America earn more than first-rate +beggars in Europe. In any of the large cities of America an active +beggar can obtain as much as three dollars in a couple of hours, even +if he suspends work for a drink. If a beggar is lucky enough to meet +a gambler, he is just as likely to get a dollar as ten cents; in +fact a number of beggars in that country make gambling places their +haunts, for gamblers are well known to be superstitious, and few of +them would think of refusing a beggar when on their way to the tables.</p> + +<p>One of the quickest ways to make a good haul is to beg a fast +overland train, when it must stop at some out-of-the-way place to +take in water or coal. A beggar often boards one of these trains and, +taking off his hat—not out of respect, but to hold money—goes from +passenger to passenger, from one end of the train to the other. It +is necessary to do business very quick, for the train does not stop +long, and the conductor must be avoided. If a man has the luck to get +right through the train, he often has several dollars to his account.</p> + +<p>In this country beggars have different methods. No doubt singing +hymns in Welsh towns and villages is one of the most profitable forms +of begging. The Welsh are very kind-hearted and, being a musical +people, it is almost impossible for them to resist an appeal made by +song. When murder has been committed in a locality, you will always +find a couple of men making a song of it in the streets, and they +certainly do an excellent trade with their song-sheets. Good voices +are not so necessary as a distinct enunciation of particular words +such as blood, axe, bolster, etc. But even in less fortunate cases, +when there has not even been an attempt at murder, beggars can still +do well by singing well-known hymns.</p> + +<p>There is one kind of beggar in Wales whose earnings can water the +mouth of many a beggar in America. We must approach this man very +seriously, for he is forced to beg through a terrible affliction. +He is either totally blind or paralysed, and is to be seen standing +or sitting near a pit's mouth on pay-day. For this man the Welsh +colliers have deep pity, and in a very short time they fill his +hat with money, silver shining among the copper, although the +contributors are only working men. But for a man with a more simple +affliction the colliers have, of course, far less sympathy. A great +number of colliers have suffered in accidents, and they are still +working hard, so it cannot be expected that they will make much +distinction between a man who has lost a finger and one that has not.</p> + +<p>Beggars that play music do well, whether it is an organ, a cornet, a +concertina, or a tin whistle. Public-houses are the best stands, for +men half drunk are always musically inclined. These men also do well +at private houses. It seems strange to say that houses where a hungry +man has difficulty in getting bread, can generally find a copper +for a beggar musician. The reason is very simple: music pleases the +children, and, naturally, a mother is always willing to assist men +that make the children laugh and dance, and the baby bounce in her +arm. In fact these men are not regarded as beggars, but entertainers. +If they know their business well, they will keep a sharp eye on the +door and windows, and when they see a child's face, nod and smile, +and throw kisses to it. Then the child laughs and claps its little +hands, and the mother hears the child and she laughs also. The +meanest woman would not rob the child of this enjoyment, and if she +allows the music to continue she is under a moral obligation to pay +for it.</p> + +<p>I knew Billy the whistler well, and he only had one complaint—dogs. +He could seldom blow three notes on his tin whistle before he was +accompanied, against his wish, by a dog's voice. The bottom of his +trousers was always in tatters, so much did dogs dislike a tin +whistle.</p> + +<p>Manchester Jack was one of the best beggars that I have met in this +country. He scorned to play music, sing, or sell. Although he was a +big, strong, able-bodied man in the prime of life, he could earn more +than a crippled young man or an old man feebled and paralysed. This +sounds like a reproach to the world, but it is very easy to explain. +Manchester Jack, being active and business-like, could call at three +times more houses than a man that was afflicted by age or accident. +He would certainly be refused at one or two places where the latter +would succeed, but the greater number of houses he called at would +give him the advantage. From a beggar's point of view, the world +consists of two kinds of people—the good and the bad. The good +will not refuse a man because he is able-bodied, and the bad can and +will always find some excuse for not giving assistance. The very few +that give in particular cases are in such a minority that a man like +Manchester Jack would be very little affected.</p> + +<p>I travelled with him for ten days, and when I took one side of a +street, and he the other, he not only finished his side first, but, +starting at the other end of mine, would meet me half way. He was a +kind-hearted fellow, always willing to give strangers information +about good or bad towns. On one occasion, when we had just finished +begging a street, Manchester Jack asked me if I had received any +scrand (food). I told him yes; that I had taken fivepence and two +parcels of food, which were in my pockets. "Well, lad," he answered, +"I have taken ninepence, but no scrand. Let me have the scrand and +I will make it all right later on." I gave him the two parcels, but +was considerably taken by surprise; for I knew Jack was too proud a +beggar to be seen eating in public, and preferred to sit comfortably +in a warm lodging-house kitchen. Taking the food he went to a house +that he had just left, knocked at the door, handed in the parcels +and began to retreat, followed by a woman's voice, which made him +hurry faster. When he came back he explained to me that he had called +at that house, and the woman had begun to cry, saying at last that +she was in want herself. "So," said Manchester Jack, "I have given +her your parcels and a couple of pennies to get a bit of tea."</p> + +<p>On another occasion he was leaving a house when he ran into a very +dirty-looking tramp, who was wasting his precious time looking at +the doors instead of knocking at them. "Mister," said this dirty +and timid man, judging Jack by his smart walk and confident smile +to be the tenant of the house—"Mister," said he, "is the Mrs. any +good for a mouthful of bread?" "Here," answered Jack, giving him a +penny—"here, and get out of this street at once; for a beggar has +just left this house, and the lady cannot give to everyone; take my +advice and go to another street."</p> + +<p>I got on very well with Manchester Jack, and we might have been +together for a long time, had he not been arrested for begging, and +sentenced to a few days' imprisonment.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XIX</p> +<h2><a id="Charity-in-Strange-Quarters">Charity in Strange Quarters</a></h2> + +<p>A fine house is seldom worth a beggar's notice, for the simple +reason that it has too many people to consult. The servant girl has +to tell the cook, and the cook has her orders from the mistress; +and either one of these has power to stop the flow of charity. The +servant girl may, if no one is looking, dismiss a beggar with a +shake of her head; or the cook may think she has quite enough work +to do without waiting on tramps. The fact of the matter is that +you can seldom find a servant and her mistress of one mind; if the +latter is kind and charitable, it is often found that the servant is +otherwise. If the mistress is mean and uncharitable, the servant is +often—sometimes through spite, and no kindness in herself—inclined +to charity. All tramps have experiences to relate of how kind-hearted +ladies or gentlemen have come out of the house and called them +back, or met them at the gate and, after enquiring their wants, led +them back to the house and reprimanded the servants for sending +poor men away empty-handed. Again, there are other cases of servant +girls giving charity against the strict orders of their masters and +mistresses—girls with good, kind hearts. So, you see, a fine house +is so unreliable that it always pays a beggar to confine his efforts +to small houses. There is not the least doubt but what bells cry +hunger, common iron knockers spell charity, and shabby doors that +cannot afford either bell or knocker, and require bare knuckles, +are—from a beggar's point of view—the richest.</p> + +<p>Even when rich people are charitable, and give food, clothes, and +money, they never seem to be impressed by the word workhouse; for +they seem to regard that place as a comfortable home. But to mention +workhouse to the poor is to send a shudder through them, and they +will always try to assist a man to escape it. They see that dreadful +place before themselves, when old age and poverty come, and they pity +a man that has to go there, if only for one night.</p> + +<p>A man that played an accordion, whom I often saw, had a certain +pitch. People that passed by could not help but pity him, thinking +that he was a stranger in the town, and did not know the almshouses +from other dwellings. But this musician knew well what the houses +were, for he had been to them before and—in a whisper—these +almshouses were almost his best pitch. Going up a narrow passage, +he would take up a position in a large stone yard, where he would +stand and play a few tunes, and would be rewarded with three or four +pennies and a couple of parcels of food. This was certainly good, for +it was all bunts (profit). He will not be so successful when he plays +to a row of fine villas at the other end of the town. If it were not +for making himself a nuisance, and being paid to go away, it would +never be worth while to play to fine houses.</p> + +<p>I shall never forget the summer's day when I accidentally discovered +a long row of small houses hidden away from all eyes. Having been +given a sandwich, I had put it in my pocket, but on second thoughts +decided to wrap it in paper. Seeing a dark, narrow passage between +two shops, I entered, so as to have some privacy to do so. While +I was in the act of wrapping this sandwich in paper, and returning +it to my pocket, I was surprised at being passed by three small +children, and wondered what they were doing there. But I lost sight +of them at once, around a short bend in the passage. Being curious +to know what was around this bend, I advanced, and what do you think +I saw? A long yard, with more than a dozen small cottages in a row. +This was a lovely sight for a beggar! In there a man could beg +without fear of policemen, and without being annoyed by the stares +of people passing in carts and on foot. But the best of it was that +these houses would escape ninety-nine beggars out of a hundred.</p> + +<p>I lost no time in going to work, in spite of a number of children +that were playing in the yard. Instead of beginning at the first +house, as an amateur would, I passed them all by, intending to +begin at the extreme end, calling at every house on my return. My +motive for doing this will be approved by all true beggars; it was +to advertise my presence, so that people would expect me, and save +me the trouble of knocking and explaining my wants, and my time +would not be wasted. This turned out well, for, after I had called +at the end cottage, where I was not expected, I had nothing to do +after but receive the ready pennies and food from the neighbours, +as I came to them. As I have said, it was a summer's day, and all +the doors were open, so that the people could hardly fail to know +of my arrival. Moreover, the children had found time to run in and +tell their mothers to expect me, and when. No beggar could ever have +done business quicker, for in less than a quarter of an hour, I was +finished, having received fivepence halfpenny and two parcels of +food. At one house, where I was given a penny, the woman also gave me +a glass of beer, saying that she was thirty-five years of age that +day, and had been married fourteen years, and was respected wherever +she went.</p> + +<p>Yes, sometimes charity comes from strange quarters, as only beggars +know. One day an old lady gave me half a chicken and a sponge cake, +with the information that she was getting parish relief. I don't know +how to account for this, but suppose she was fortunate in being well +looked after by some rich family for whom she had worked.</p> + +<p>Another time I went to a small cottage, and the door was answered +by a very shabby-looking old lady. I was selling needles and laces, +at the time, and, when the old lady was asked to buy, she answered +that she had not one penny in the house. She looked so very poor that +I felt ashamed of having called there, and felt much inclined to +make her a present of a packet of needles. As I was about to leave, +she said: "Would you like to have something to eat?" Not caring to +take anything from this poor woman, I said: "No, thank you; I have +plenty in my pockets." "No matter for that," she answered briskly. +Saying this, she went indoors, and in a few moments returned with +a brown-paper parcel in her hands. It looked very much like a suit +of clothes, but when I received it I was astonished at its weight. +Thanking her I left, and at the first opportunity sat down to examine +the contents. To my surprise I had half a rabbit pie and a whole +custard pudding. This woman, it seemed, was far from being poor, and +lived well; and that she had not a penny in the house was not to say +that she was in poverty, as I first supposed.</p> + +<p>When I was once followed by school-children, I could not help but +see by their whispers that something unusual was about to happen. It +was not long before a little girl came forward and put a penny in my +hand. This was the most extraordinary charity that I ever received; +for the child was old enough to know the value of money and the +number of sweet things, so dear to childhood, that a penny could +buy. Another, a little boy, seeing this wonderful deed of sacrifice, +wanted me to take his slice of bread and jam, most of the jam being +licked off.</p> + +<p>A beggar soon forgets a kindness, but it is most certain that the +charity he receives from the young affects him longest. Sometimes +boys, who take their dinners with them to work, have food left; +and it gives them great pride to meet a beggar and give it to him. +Sometimes—more often than not—it is only dry bread; and they +offer it to a beggar who perhaps has better food in his pockets. +Now, if a man or woman gave such a beggar this dry bread, he would +most likely receive it with indifference and cold thanks, and throw +it away, being none too particular in carrying it beyond the eyes +of the giver. But when he is offered this dry bread by innocent, +well-meaning boys, he not only takes it with a great show of +gratitude and pleasure, but is very careful that the boys will get no +chance to see him throw it away.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XX</p> +<h2><a id="Enemies-of-Beggars">Enemies of Beggars</a></h2> + +<p>It is almost time that our streets were cleared of so many +house-callers that, hour after hour, knock at doors and ring bells +until a lady is not in a fit condition to listen to a beggar. It is +commonly thought that policemen and dogs are a beggar's only enemies, +but this is far from true; even the child that waits at the gate to +see if he gets anything, and, if possible, what he does get—even +this small innocent must be regarded as an enemy to a beggar; not +to mention hundreds of adults that pester people for rent and +instalments for goods received, and others that beg people to buy +coal, wood, and oil, vegetables and fruit. Of course, these callers +do not matter much to the true beggar, for he goes blindly to work, +careless of his surroundings; but the timid beginner, who looks to +the right and left of him, before and behind, is very apt to pass on +if a neighbourhood is not kept more quiet for his work.</p> + +<p>The true beggar, as I have said, is not often annoyed by these +pestilent callers. Sometimes he knocks at a door and, before his +knock can be answered, some infernal agent comes to the same door. +In a case of this kind, the new beggar would be flurried, and most +likely leave the house in possession of his enemy—but it is far +different with the true beggar. He wishes his enemy a cheerful good +morning—although it is seldom that he gets a civil answer—and is +not afraid to speak out when the lady comes. In fact, he would be the +first to explain his business, whether he was there first or not.</p> + +<p>A first-class beggar like Brum would scorn to mention such little +difficulties as these, and I know well that all good beggars will +despise me for raising such paltry objections. But even Brum himself +has given way before people that were not regarded as beggars; even +he had to give way—not out of spite or ill-will, but through his +kindness or generosity. One day, when we were both out begging, Brum +surprised me with these words—"One beggar is quite enough in this +street; let us go to another." I was quite surprised at these words, +for I knew well that Brum would not have budged an inch if there were +a dozen beggars in the street. But what surprised me more was that +when I looked before and behind, I could not see anyone that could be +mistaken for a beggar. "I don't see anyone," I said at last, looking +at him for an explanation. "Don't you?" he asked. "Well, there she +is, and good luck to her!" And to my astonishment he nodded towards +a Sister of Charity. It would never have occurred to me to regard +such a person as a beggar, but she certainly was; and it proved how +kind-hearted and considerate Brum was to give way to her, so that she +might have every opportunity to get what the street was worth.</p> + +<p>I ought not to have been surprised to hear Brum say these words, +for I had often heard him at the camps and elsewhere laud a certain +Christian leader as "the greatest beggar that ever lived." To Brum +this man was a perfect hero, whose prowess amazed him. Brum followed +his career with as much interest as any man ever followed the doings +of Napoleon; and every scrap of paper that came to hand, on which he +saw the name of this Christian leader, was read and re-read by Brum, +and commented on daily. In fact, Brum was never without two or three +pieces of paper relating to "the greatest beggar that ever lived." +"He does not beg a needle, a piece of thread, a cake, a sandwich, a +pair of stockings, or a shirt," Brum would say, glancing with scorn +at other beggars in the camp; "he knows nothing about our petty ways +of doing business: he begs shiploads of provisions, wardrobes of +clothes; aye, acres of land and barrels of money. And this man is +an Englishman," Brum would add, with a slight sneer at any American +beggars who happened to be present. The latter had to admit that +their country had not yet produced so great a beggar.</p> + +<p>Curly Jack, of England, had never met Brum and never heard of him, +but he was of exactly the same opinion; but whereas Brum admired +the man as a hero, Curly Jack abused him for his success. Whereas +Brum was as delighted as a child to see his hero's banner in charge +of a trusty officer, and to hear the band—Curly Jack no sooner saw +or heard, than he slunk off in an opposite direction, scowling and +muttering curses.</p> + +<p>One Sunday morning Curly Jack and myself were in Northampton, and we +had left the lodging-house together; after which we parted, he going +down one street, while I went farther on, so as to give him plenty of +room.</p> + +<p>I did not find Northampton very bad, although the boot trade—its +main industry—had been declining for a long time. In about half +an hour I had several pennies over my bed money, also a quantity +of food, so I thought I would get a newspaper and return to the +lodging-house, and take it easy for the rest of the day.</p> + +<p>As I was on my way back I saw Curly Jack going to a house, and +waited—at his motion—until he was at liberty to come. "What luck, +Jack?" I asked, when he came. "Very bad," he answered; "I was in a +good street, where I have done well before, but twenty or thirty +beggars have been there this morning before me, and played it +out." These words surprised me not a little, and I asked him for +an explanation. "There they are again," he cried, with an oath. I +looked in every direction, but all I saw was three little children +together, and one couple that appeared to be lovers. "Can't you hear +the beggars?" he asked. "I hear the Salvation Army," I said; "surely +you don't mean them!" "Of course I mean them," he answered, with +some impatience. "What difference can they make?" I said, at a loss +to understand him. "I should think their presence would be good for +beggars—that they would open people's hearts." "Come with me, and I +will show you how they spoil the street for a beggar," said Jack. And +away we went.</p> + +<p>In a few moments we were in the same street as the Salvation Army, +and my companion walked boldly towards them, while I lingered a +little behind. However, when I saw him standing near them, I joined +him, and could not help but notice that several members of the Army +rewarded our presence with smiles.</p> + +<p>It was not long before I saw how the Salvation Army could spoil a +street for a beggar. While the meeting was going on, several members +not only went from house to house, but even begged passers-by—aye, +even came to me and my seedy friend. "Now," said Curly Jack, as we +were leaving—"now, are you satisfied? What chance has a beggar, be +he ever so good, against these people? It will be impossible for the +rest of the day to get a single penny in this street, or any other +street that they have been to."</p> + +<p>People will now be able to see, by these incidents, the great number +of enemies a poor beggar has to contend with; enemies that would take +the bread out of his mouth.</p> + +<p>It is very true that in the green country beggars have a little dread +of policemen and dogs, but in towns they fear more the annoyance +of other callers, who are not beggars. One thing they dread very +much, in towns of some size, is to be offered a ticket to introduce +them to a charitable organization that professes to attend to +their wants. True beggars know well what these organizations are. +But sometimes the man who is looking for work is only too glad to +receive this ticket—and he certainly gets plenty of work. He does +about three shillings' worth of labour for a bed whose only virtue +is cleanliness, and about threepenny worth of food. However, the +poor fellow is well satisfied, because he is a very timid man, and +he feels less shame in being made a slave than a beggar. He is only +too glad to perform these tasks at every opportunity, but the true +English beggar is a Briton that never will be a slave.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXI</p> +<h2><a id="The-Lowest-State-of-Man">The Lowest State of Man</a></h2> + +<p>Some people think that a man cannot fall lower than to live in a +common lodging-house; but men and women are occasionally met in +London that are even stared at and pitied by those who live in such +low places. The men and women of whom I speak would not be admitted +into the lowest common lodging-houses in London. They are so ragged +and filthy in appearance that if you gave one of them a sovereign +it would be impossible to get a bed until an alteration was made in +his or her appearance. Some of these have slept in their clothes so +often and been outcasts so long that they are really without the +least hope—not dejected for a few hours or days, as with others. +Their dreams, if they have any, are recollections of days gone, but +they have no hope in the future. Who has not seen them? Men and +women in such a condition that if a man gives them a penny he has +to avert his eyes; and the most kind-hearted women pass them by with +as quick a glance as possible. There is only one place open to these +poor wretches, and that is a Salvation Army shelter, where they pay +twopence and sleep on the floor. They think nothing of suffering; +one of them will sit on a seat, when it is raining hard, with the +utmost indifference, and there may be an arch that he could reach in +less than two minutes. So he gets wet and shivers all night, which is +common for him.</p> + +<p>I have seen a man of this description refused a bed at a Salvation +Army lodging-house, and it did not take the officer many seconds to +come to that conclusion. Of course, it is not often—perhaps half a +dozen times in a year—that one of these poor people can afford to +pay fourpence for a bed; but sometimes they have the good fortune +to find a silver coin, or some gentleman gives it to them. If the +latter is the case, the gentleman is probably a stranger in London, +and comes from some happy new land where such extreme poverty is +not known. One night, when I was at the office paying for my bed, I +heard a man come in at the front door and stand behind me, but did +not turn my head, thinking that he was one of the many lodgers that +lived there. When I was about to leave I heard this man put down some +money and tell the lieutenant that he wanted a bed. As I did not hear +that officer make any answer, but rise from his stool instead to come +out of the office, I turned my head, thinking something strange was +about to happen. The lieutenant was soon out and standing before the +would-be lodger, looking at him from head to foot. "I should think +not," he said at last with an amused smile to think that the man had +asked such a question. "We have no bed for <i>you</i>," he continued; "you +had better go to the shelter in Blackfriars." The man was certainly a +pitiful, even disgusting, sight. His hair was very long, and so was +his beard; and the colour of his hands, his neck, and the hairless +part of his face was almost black. His clothes were in tatters, +showing his naked legs; his boots had no soles or heels, and the +uppers were kept together with string. This poor fellow had either +found a silver coin or had received it in charity; and, having slept +in his clothes for months, he wanted them off for one night and +the luxury of a warm bed. Not only that, but if this man had a bed, +he would also have the use of the washhouse all the next day, with +plenty of hot water to clean himself. But this was not to be, for the +lieutenant was too keen-eyed. This poor fellow, who was so ambitious, +did not seem at all surprised at the refusal, but picked up his money +and walked out without a word. Perhaps he had been to other places +with the same result, and would still go to others. The Christian +officer watched him going, and, when he was gone, turned to re-enter +his office. Seeing me standing there, a witness to what had happened, +he said, "What a face!" and entered the office laughing—he, he, he!</p> + +<p>Any person in London can see these poor wretches, who are in as low a +state as it is possible to fall into. It is almost impossible to miss +them, whether they are seated or walking, for if you are not looking +their way you are almost certain of hearing strange sounds and having +your attention drawn to them. They all talk to themselves, and laugh +and swear; for cold nights and hunger have made them crazy to a great +extent. Two of them are seldom seen together, for each one has just +enough sense to know that he draws more attention than is good, +without inviting more. Time is nothing to these; if they have enough +bread to last the day, they are not likely to leave one particular +seat. As a rule each one has a certain spot to spend the day, and, +after being forced to walk all night, they return as soon as possible +to their favourite place. It is in the early morning that they get +their food, and where they get it is a secret each one keeps to +himself. This secret is their living, and that is another cause why +they should be reserved with one another. One of these men told me +once that he knew a certain large private house where a paper parcel +consisting of fragments of food was to be found every morning in the +back alley, close to the ash-bin. This paper parcel had kept him for +three years, but he had missed it several times. No doubt some stray +beggar had found it on those occasions, but, not knowing that such a +parcel was put there every morning, had never troubled to look for +it again. When I heard this I could not help thinking how likely it +was that something would happen to disappoint him; that the tenant's +absence or death would alter such an arrangement. But I did not give +the least hint of this, for I saw that the poor fellow thought he +was sure of bread for life. He had not the least doubt but what the +parcel would always be put there, and his only worry was that some +other beggar would follow him and learn his secret, or discover the +parcel by accident. In the winter this man spent all his days on one +particular seat, when he could get it, and as near to it as possible +when it was already taken. When I walked along the Embankment one +morning, at nine o'clock, he was then seating himself. He had his +paper parcel beside him, from which he had just taken a crust of +bread. When I came back that way, at four o'clock in the afternoon, +he was still there. Perhaps he would have a certain shady tree in one +of the parks for his summer days.</p> + +<p>None of these are beggars; they never go to houses or beg of people +in the street, for they know that their appearance is so bad that +they dare not draw more attention than people like to give them. +Sometimes, not very often, a man has the courage to give them a +coin, but no woman ever has. They are so surprised at receiving +unsolicited charity that they forget to offer any thanks. The man +whom I have just mentioned, who had a parcel of food every morning, +would rather you passed him by without giving him money, for fear a +policeman would see the act and accuse him of begging, and move him +from his favourite seat. As I have said, most of them know places +where they can get food without begging, outside large factories and +elsewhere. They are seldom to be seen in private streets, because +they do not beg houses.</p> + +<p>I have often seen men standing outside large factories and workshops, +waiting for the workmen, so as to get the food some of them have +left from dinner and, being frugal husbands, are taking home; but +who gladly give it to a man who they think wants it. These beggars +generally ask a workman, when they see him with his food-tin, if he +has anything left from dinner. Whether he has or not does not matter, +for the question draws the attention of those that have, and in a few +moments the beggar has enough for a couple of good meals. But these +poor wretches, who have fallen so low in their appearance, have no +need to speak at all, only to show themselves. For it is not only +apparent to every eye that they are homeless, but it almost seems as +if they never had homes. Such men are the only thorough outcasts, +for whom nothing can be done. Neither the Salvation Army nor the +Church Army will deal with them. And if one of these men went to the +Charity Organization he would not be admitted inside the doors, much +less receive the honour of being invited in and questioned. That +particular Society would not be interested as to what his father did +for a living or his grandfather's habits. In fact it does not need +those hard, smart, detective qualities of charity officers to see +that the date of social respectability must go back a very long way +indeed in this man's past.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXII</p> +<h2><a id="The-Lodger-Lover">The Lodger Lover</a></h2> + +<p>A lodger gave him the name of "Cinders," and he took to it kindly. +I was present in the kitchen on the day he arrived as a stranger, +nameless and alone, as far as the other lodgers were concerned, for +they did not know what name he had entered at the office. He was +in rags and tatters, and "Rags" or "Tatters" should certainly have +been his name. In fact the name was offered to him, but he returned +an unsatisfactory stare. He was preparing his tea at the same table +as "Punch," and the latter being in need of a pinch of salt, and +seeing none of his friends at tea, asked this stranger to oblige him, +saying: "Would you oblige me, 'Rags,' with a pinch of salt?" The man +stared at "Punch" for a moment, and then walked away without giving +an answer. He was at that time cooking a herring at the fire. Now it +so happened that a few moments later this man was pouring out tea, +when all at once there was a loud cry of "Whose herring is this?" +The man turned quickly at the sound, and beheld his herring making a +few spasmodic motions, as it dangled on a long wire. He immediately +ran to the rescue, but alas! too late; for the tatters of his loose +clothes encompassed him like a deadly plant, and when he arrived +the herring was lying motionless under the grate. After great care +he succeeded in bringing it to the light, covered with ashes and +cinders. Still, with great care, he washed it and, after placing it +flat on a plate, returned it to the fire. "I hope you do not blame me +for that accident, 'Cinders,'" said kind-hearted "Punch." "Oh, no," +answered the man newly named "Cinders." "'Cinders' has too much sense +for that," said "Red-Nosed Scotty," who happened to be sitting near. +"Whose teapot is this?" cried the kitchen-man, who was about to build +the coke fire, and wanted all food and teapots removed. "It belongs +to 'Cinders,'" said a number of voices. From that day to this his +name is "Cinders," owing to the accident to his herring when he first +came. If he was arrested, it would be—"'Cinders' is in jail"; and if +he died it would be—"'Cinders' is dead."</p> + +<p>If a man who goes to live in a common lodging-house does not utter +his own name in a very short time, the lodgers will give him one. +Brown had a large nose, and would most certainly have been named +"Nosey," had he not on the first day recorded a simple anecdote of +his childhood, in which he had cause to call himself William Brown.</p> + +<p>I remember the day well, when the "Dodger"—a man who gladly helped +others to spend their earnings on ale and, when they sat penniless +and hungry, sat himself down alone to beefsteak and onions—I +remember the day well when this man caused a never-to-be-forgotten +sensation in the lodging-house kitchen. A letter was at the office +for Algernon Dudley, and the manager had been in the kitchen several +times in quest of that gentleman. It was near seven o'clock in +the evening when he came into the kitchen for the fifth time and +cried—"Is Algernon Dudley here?" "Yes," answered a man in the +corner, and coming quickly forward. All eyes turned towards him, +and who do you think Algernon Dudley was? No other than the common +"Dodger." "Fatty," who claimed to be a fighting man, whom no man had +ever succeeded in knocking down, said, in conversation to Brown, +"You could have knocked me down with a feather."</p> + +<p>Brown's remarks on this occasion were very sensible, as they usually +were. "It was, is, and always will be the custom," said he, "for +a woman that gives birth to a child to name it. For this reason +she is no sooner on the trot again than she begins scheming to +that end. Now," continued Brown, "we must not picture the 'Dodger' +as he is—God help him!—but as he was, a child in the arms of a +doting woman. Such was the case, and has been the same with others, +including ourselves, and will always be. Now this poor woman—some +people would call her foolish—no doubt had great respect for the +'Dodger' as a babe and, to distinguish him from the common race of +mankind, named him in such a manner as we have just heard. Perhaps I +am right, perhaps I am wrong; but if the true facts of the case were +known, you would probably find that I was not far from the truth. In +spite of all this, I quite agree with our friend's remark, that it +fills us with astonishment." The "Dodger" had lived in the house for +more than two years, when this incident caused so many comments.</p> + +<p>But let us return to the man "Cinders," for that gentleman was +no helpless wreck in a doss-house; he was really a gay spirit and +capable of love. He was a man with a long, melancholy face, seeing +no humour in life and, if the truth must be told, he was positively +ugly. Yet this man "Cinders" had been seen on several occasions +walking the streets with a woman on his arm. One of the lodgers said +her looks were passable, and another said that they were more than +passable compared to "Cinders." Brown had seen them together and, +said he, "Although a man ought to believe his own eyes, I would never +believe such to be the case, had not 'Cinders' said, 'Good night, Mr. +Brown.' And if a man is not to believe both eyes and ears, then what +is he to believe?"</p> + +<p>Of course, there could be no union between these poor souls; for +she was in service, and he did odd jobs at the market, earning a +shilling, or a little more on lucky days. As the manager said, it was +amusing and could not amount to anything serious. They could go on +walking arm in arm all their lives, for they would never be able to +marry and walk apart.</p> + +<p>This courtship had been the talk of the house for over three months +when, one night, it was brought to an end in a strange manner. +"Cinders" and his love had been all the evening in the "Borough" +drinking ale. He, seeing some smoked haddock, fancied some for his +supper and, after making a purchase, rejoined his fair companion. It +was near midnight when it suddenly occurred to "Cinders" that the +manager closed the house at twelve p.m., and if he—"Cinders"—was +not there by that time, he would be out for the night. Reminding his +lady of this, they both started for home, her road lying the same way +as his. The manager was just closing the door when "Cinders" arrived.</p> + +<p>Now, goodness knows what demon put it into this woman's head to cook +her lover's fish, but this she seemed determined to do. "I am coming +in to cook your supper," said she. "No," said the manager, "this is +a house for men only, and we do not allow women to enter. Not only +that, the kitchen is now closed, and I would not open it again for +'Cinders' or any other man. He will have to go supperless to bed, +or seek lodgings elsewhere." The lady then started to abuse the +manager in a loud voice, but that gentleman, not heeding her, caught +"Cinders" by the shoulders, saying, "Go to bed, you old fool," at the +same time shutting the door in the lady's face.</p> + +<p>The next morning, when "Cinders" was cooking his haddock, the manager +lectured him severely on what had occurred the previous night; +telling him that if he could afford to keep a lady cook he must seek +better lodgings. Brown, who happened to be within hearing, gave +evidence that he distinctly heard a woman's voice say, "I am going to +cook his fish," but thought he must be dreaming. Even now he believed +it was all a dream, and he would like to hear the truth from the +manager's own lips, as to whether it was an actual fact or not. On +being told that it was, Brown turned his eyes towards "Cinders" and, +seeing that gentleman hold down his head in wordless shame, Brown +was forced to believe it all. Probably that was the end of their +courtship, for they were never seen together after that.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXIII</p> +<h2><a id="The-Handy-Man">The Handy Man</a></h2> + +<p>The handy man is to be found in all places where men are either too +poor to pay for professional experience, or, not being so poor, yet +live in out-of-the-way camps which women have never visited, and +which are too temporary for tradesmen to open business. The former +places are common lodging-houses, where the handy man volunteers +his services as laundryman, cook, tailor, cobbler, barber, etc. In +fact, according to his boasted qualifications, it would be far more +interesting to learn what he cannot do than what he can. He has +learnt all these trades with his eye, and, when about to practise, +his confidence is unshaken. Says he, "I will shave you, and you will +not feel the razor going over your face." And when he covers your +face with blood he blames pimples, which you never had, and expects +to be thanked for removing them; for in addition to shaving you, has +he not also performed a successful surgical operation?</p> + +<p>In this manner he earns a shilling or more a day, and he is not +agreeable that any man should shave himself, sew or wash clothes; or +he would not earn the price of his bed and board, and gifts of ale +and tobacco. If he sees me preparing to shave, he makes a rush and +possesses himself of the razor, and commands me to be seated. There +is nothing else to do but obey, for he takes me by the shoulder and +leads me to a seat; he then forces me down and pushes my head back +until it is within an inch of the nape of my neck. For this indignity +I give him a penny, and then, while I am washing, he shouts in a +loud voice—"Next." He never thinks that I would object to my soap, +brush, and razor being used on other faces; and truly it is for that +reason—and not economy—that I shave myself. But thank goodness the +kitchen is almost empty, and there is no answer to his "Next." Then, +with an eye to future custom, he carefully wipes the razor, dries it +on his clothes, washes the brush, rolls the soap in a piece of clean +paper, and returns them to the owner. After which he again borrows +the razor, for he has seen a hair on the throat, and, as he says—"A +good craftsman likes to make a neat job." He then laments the number +of pimples that had to be removed, and wanders in quest of other jobs.</p> + +<p>Probably he now sees a man in the act of repairing a boot. If he +does, he rushes in that direction, wrestles with the man for the +boot, and is soon heard hammering with all his might. He makes so +much noise that any man would think him a man of confidence and great +practice. Of course he blames the tools for every mistake, and says +modestly that no man living could do better under such conditions. +For rendering this assistance he receives two or more coppers.</p> + +<p>And now he sees a man whose eyesight is bad endeavouring to thread +a needle. "Allow me," cries the handy man, springing forward, +and wrestling with the other for the needle and thread. Getting +possession of these, in spite of the other's loud-spoken annoyance, +he, instead of returning them, demands the article to be sewn. "No, +thank you," says the other; "I can manage it myself." With much +reluctance the handy man surrenders, and begs a pipeful of tobacco +for threading the needle. But he still keeps his eye on the other, +and when he sees him take up a shirt and a patch, the handy man again +springs forward and in a loud voice commands the other to halt. "I," +says he, "have a piece of stuff that exactly matches your shirt, +whereas yours is far different." Snatching the shirt from the other's +hand, he disappears for a moment, and then reappears with a piece +of stuff that, it must be admitted, is a better match. The other, +being well pleased at this, says: "If you don't mind waiting we will +have a drink after I have done this job." The handy man, hearing +this, and not feeling inclined to wait long, also thinking that an +additional kindness would meet its reward in an additional drink, +answers: "You had better let me do it, for by the way you hold the +needle it is plain that you are not used to such work." The other, +seeing that he has already given tobacco, and is compromised for +a drink, is now quite willing to have the handy man's assistance. +"Now," says he, when the job is done, where every stitch is seen to +lie in its own deep valley surrounded by hills—"Now," says he, "all +it requires is to be pressed with a hot flat-iron, after which you +need not be ashamed to show it to the best tailor in the land. If +you like, we will use the interval, while the iron is in the fire, +for refreshment."</p> + +<p>The handy man, though he often spoils good things which, with a +little professional care, might be made almost as good as new, is +not to be altogether despised. Though he is not the handy man of +his claim, he certainly deserves credit for keeping handy tools. +Wherever he finds discarded boots or clothes, he cuts patches and +saves them for emergency. He always keeps a pair of scissors, a +razor, strap, brush, pincers, and many other useful things, and he +is seldom short of nails. But to one who is determined to do without +his services, he is often a very unpleasant spectator. For instance, +if I am shaving the handy man stands two feet away, glaring like a +discomforted demon; and when I stand before the glass, and the razor +is on my face, he stands behind my back, so that to my confusion +and danger two faces are reflected. If he sees a man who has +persistently declined his aid, and who is in the act of sewing, the +handy man either stands in the light, or stands seemingly counting +the stitches, critically watching, until the man must either prick +his finger or spoil his work. When he sees a man repairing a boot he +says sarcastically: "Take care you strike the right nail." The other +laughs, but proves his confusion when the next instant he strikes off +the nail of his left-hand thumb.</p> + +<p>The handy man even prescribes for the sick, but in nine cases out of +ten his cure is an intoxicant, the time being immaterial. I allowed +him to cut my hair, and he seemed well pleased at the result; but +after one glance in the glass, I decided not to remove my cap for +three weeks, whether at meals or not.</p> + +<p>Perhaps nothing worse could befall a house than to have two rival +handy men. I was at one place where a man claimed to have given +satisfaction for a number of years. He was certainly liked, for even +those who scorned his talents could not resist his ways as a cadger +of tea, sugar, tobacco, and other things. But alas! his fatal day +came when a man, who was receiving a good pension, took lodgings at +the same house, and, wanting something to occupy his mind, began +shaving, cutting hair, and mending boots free of charge. "Look here," +said the old handy man to the new one—"Look here, before you came I +could always pay for my bed, tobacco, not to mention a glass or two +of ale; but your coming here has spoilt all that." "Well," answered +the good-natured pensioner, "you are one of the biggest and strongest +men in the house, and why don't you look for a man's labour, instead +of loafing about for a woman's work—sewing and washing clothes? I am +not taking pennies from poor fellows old or broken in health who as +paper-men, toy-sellers, and sandwichmen, barely earn enough for their +own wants." Not many days after this the big, healthy schemer had to +walk out for his living, and had heavy tasks put before him, which he +was well able to perform. Then the poor lodgers had peace to do their +own washing and mending, while the good-natured pensioner attended to +their boots, beard, and hair.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXIV</p> +<h2><a id="On-Books">On Books</a></h2> + +<p>I have never had much chance to enjoy books. Even after writing +four books, which were regarded as literary successes, my library +consisted of only about fifty volumes, some of which were magazines, +and not worth a second reading. This being so, it is hardly likely +that I can ever forgive this world for keeping me without books when +my enthusiasm was great, for I don't want them now. I have often +envied the thousands of rich people that have well-stocked libraries +and no desire to use them. When my enthusiasm was greatest I was not +able to enjoy books owing to the circumstances under which they had +to be read. For instance, when I lived in a common lodging-house, +preferring freedom on a small income to drudgery on a large one, I +had plenty of time to visit free libraries. At those places I could, +by signing my name and address, borrow any book mentioned in the +catalogue, and read it on the premises. I often wish I now had some +of the books I read at that time and could not enjoy. The reason I +could not enjoy them at that time was owing to several causes, which +were strong enemies against enthusiasm. In the first place, I had +to give a false address, because the name of a lodging-house was +not respectable, and condemned me as unclean. Owing to this I could +never feel comfortable, for if I happened to look up from my book +and saw the librarian looking my way, I always thought that he was +weighing in his mind what manner of man I was. Sometimes a librarian +would stare at me so boldly that I lost no time in returning the +book, and leaving the place, thinking that he would soon come forward +and tell me to do so. Of course, I was very suspicious, under those +circumstances, but have often thought since that those men were not +thinking of me at all, but were lost in their own business, and did +not know what their eyes were doing. Another reason why I could not +enjoy books then was owing to a low and insufficient diet, which +kept my blood too cold to sit long in a room where the windows were +often wide open. The consequence was that I often returned a very +interesting book after an hour's reading, so as to take a walk and +get warm; a book which would, if I had a cosy little room of my own, +be read through at one sitting, though it took far into the night. +And when summer came, I wanted to read in the open air, but had no +friends to recommend me as a book-borrower. For that reason I could +not borrow books to take away and read at my leisure, and in whatever +place I liked.</p> + +<p>Since those days, and now that I have made one or two friends, I +have other reasons to spoil my enjoyment of books. I cannot now read +with enjoyment books that are borrowed or are likely to be wanted +back. Such books are never any good to me, for, if I enjoy them, I am +robbed of that joy by the thought that they are not mine. I want to +see the books around me as my own property, else the sight of them +grieves me. My own books are kept on a shelf, and I look on them as +pure thoroughbred; but I keep apart all borrowed books, treating them +as wandering mongrels to whom I have given a temporary home, and am +as anxious to drive away as I was to receive them in the beginning. +For this reason I would not now take advantage of a library, even if +it were next door.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, in the country a book lover has to be well off, for he +can only buy new books; whereas in London, and other large cities, a +man can take, from stalls of second-hand books, an armful of classics +for the price of a moderate meal. And that leads me to another +thought—I do not care for the look of new books, much preferring +them to have lost their last coat of polish. Somehow it hurts my +conscience to see a dear old author shining before me in gold and +spotless green or red. I seem to hear his voice say: "You scorned my +coming in years past, and left me for these late and colder days." +There is not much excuse for a man living in London not having a good +stock of books. I have seen Shakespeare for fourpence, and Milton +for half that price. At this rate a man could in a few months have a +large stock of good books, and the outlay would not be much. If I had +been living in London during these last two years, my books would now +run into several hundreds, and I would not have spent five pounds.</p> + +<p>Perhaps one of the best week's enjoyment I have ever had was in the +free library at Reading, in spite of the conditions under which I +then lived. I had left London three months before, and had been +wandering about the country, and had not read a book or magazine +during all that time. At this time I was aching with all my heart for +reading matter, dreaming of books day and night. Now it happened that +I had been in that town two months before, and on that occasion had +been in the library long enough to see that it was very comfortable +and had a good stock of papers and magazines. For, being a large +town, that library was really free, without any signs relating to +tramps—as I had seen in smaller towns—silence only being requested. +Unfortunately, the town's trade was very bad at this time, and +for that reason it would take me all day to sell enough laces to +keep me, and I would have no spare time for the library. So I left +Reading, with much regret, but determined to return if I could make +a few shillings to keep me idle for several days. One Friday night +I happened to be at Windsor and heard a couple of beggars in the +lodging-house speaking in good terms of Slough, a mile and a half +away. So, the next morning, being Saturday, I left Windsor and +started for Slough. When I reached that town, I began to knock at +doors without wasting any time, although it was quite early in the +day, for some of the better-class people had not yet cleared away +their breakfast things. I certainly had extraordinary luck, for I +took a shilling before dinner and, of course, the town would be much +better after that, because of the men having come home with their +pay. To understand my good fortune people must know that Saturday +morning is the worst time in the week for a beggar. It is so bad +that nine beggars out of ten attempt no business whatever until +after dinner, so as not to spoil themselves by being refused at good +houses that would gladly assist them later in the day. It is really +surprising the number of poor people there are who have spent the +last penny in the house on a Saturday morning before dinner. When I +thought of this it suddenly occurred to me that Reading library was +not far away. No sooner had this idea occurred to me than I made +up my mind to keep calling at houses until I had four shillings. +It was getting dark, and must have been about five o'clock, when I +stopped and counted a pocketful of pennies. First of all I counted +my laces, and found that I had sold a dozen pairs, which had cost me +threepence. But so many people had given pennies for nothing that +I was not at all surprised to find that I had four shillings and +tenpence, although one lady had insisted on having two pairs for +three-halfpence. In addition to this money I had food enough given me +for tea that night and breakfast the following morning. I was quite +delighted at this and started at once for Maidenhead, four miles +away. On the road there I sold three pairs of laces to men going home +from work, and also had threepence given me by a gentleman taking +a walk, which was unsolicited. So that I now had five shillings +and fourpence, a clear five shillings after paying for my bed at +Maidenhead. The next day, being Sunday, I walked with a light heart +into Reading, with five shillings in my pocket. That small amount +kept me for six days, and I never did, and never will again, have +so much enjoyment out of reading matter. Of course, what increased +my pleasure was the thought that I was letting a small income +accumulate, so as to publish a book of my own; the manuscript was in +my pocket then, and in two more months I would be an author.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXV</p> +<h2><a id="Narks">Narks</a></h2> + +<p>A man cannot be a very long time on the road before he understands +the meaning of the word "narks." Beggars may forgive dirty beds, +vermin, broken crockery and bad fires, but to tell them that a +lodging-house is full of "narks" is the worst information that can be +conveyed to them. When I enquired of a beggar as to the comfort of +the lodging-house in the town to which I was going, he said: "Well, +mate, the bed is good, and a good fire is kept, but to tell you the +truth the house is spoilt by 'narks.'" As I was not an old traveller +in England, I did not understand him, but thought I would find out +for myself what a "nark" really was.</p> + +<p>After I had reached the town, and paid the lodging-house keeper for +my bed, I entered the lodgers' kitchen, and there saw three men +seated before a good fire. Of my cheerful "Good afternoon," they +took not the least notice, neither did they offer to make room for a +stranger coming in out of the cold. I could see at once by this that +they were not true beggars and travellers, who are always eager to +make room for their fellows. I may as well say at once that these +three men were "narks." In other words, they were town beggars; +men that had lost their homes and had to take refuge in a common +lodging-house; or, if they did not belong to the town, they had been +there long enough to be known.</p> + +<p>The "nark" is either a cattle-drover, a small hawker, a mechanic +that only has a couple of days' work a week, or a man that earns a +few pennies by doing odd jobs for people that know him. Sometimes +he is a man with a very small pension or income, and does nothing. +Although the lodging-house keeper often abuses him, and threatens +to cast him adrift, for all that he is allowed privileges which the +casual wandering tramp cannot like. All true wanderers hate him; even +the drunken, domineering grinder is treated with civility in a house +where beggars see a "nark."</p> + +<p>That the "nark," with his mean tricks, is a nuisance to wandering +beggars is seen in a very short time. For instance, he takes the +utensils, which are meant for the common use of the kitchen, and +after using them will hide them away for his own future use; so +that strangers have often to make tea in a pot without a spout, and +look in vain for a saucer or a small saucepan. He also monopolizes +the fire with newly-washed clothes, and hungry strangers find great +difficulty in cooking their food. He will not oblige by removing +these things until the evening, when there would be less demand for +the fire. Again, he wants a certain place at the table to sit and eat +his food, and he often frowns at innocent strangers who are enjoying +their meal in his accustomed seat. He is often mean enough to allow +his things to remain on the table after he has done, in readiness +for the next meal—instead of clearing them away and making room for +hungry new-comers.</p> + +<p>The worst charge to make against a "nark" is that he is a spy and a +tell-tale, and that he lets the lodging-house keeper know all the +transactions of the kitchen. When lodgers are told the next morning +that they cannot have a bed at that house for another night, and +cannot get to know the reason why, they come to the conclusion that +they have been reported by a "nark" for complaining about a bad fire, +insufficiency of bed-clothes, teapots, saucers, or cups.</p> + +<p>Most deputies in lodging-houses were in the first place "narks." +Sometimes a "nark" fails, in spite of being well known in the town, +to earn the price of his bed, or to borrow it, and returns to the +lodging-house for trust. After that he shows his gratitude by +sweeping the kitchen, or washing plates and tea-things, which the +lodging-house keeper had to do himself. The latter, seeing this, +asks him to do other things, and of course gives him bed and board, +and a shilling at the end of the week. He no longer goes out as +a drover, or seeking odd jobs, but sweeps, washes, scrubs, makes +beds, etc. Taking everything into consideration the work is not so +unremunerative as it appears, for every man in the house solicits his +friendship. From morning till night he is offered saucers-full of tea +from the many lodgers. In fact, he is often at his wits' end to know +how to spend his very small wages, for the lodgers supply him with +tobacco, beer, and even clothes and boots. He gets so many presents +every week that he makes money by selling them.</p> + +<p>As may be expected, it is from the "narks" that he reaps the most +profit; for they never fail to share with him their titbits and +give him the price of beer, which makes him favour that class, and +prejudiced against casual lodgers.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately the deputy has great power, against which there is no +appeal. He will allow a "nark" to cook on the fire until it is nearly +out; but when he sees a stranger cooking he will interfere, saying +that the fire must be attended to. After which he will put on so much +coke that the poor stranger is delayed an hour or more in doing what +he has perhaps half done. He has to put on one side a herring half +cooked, or a singing kettle, until the fire burns.</p> + +<p>It is a good policy for strangers, as soon as they enter a +lodging-house kitchen, to not only speak pleasantly to the deputy, +but to slip a penny into his hand, so that they may be installed on +an equal footing with "narks." Men that do not think of doing this +must not be surprised if he "accidentally" overturns their teapots, +or shovels coke into their frying-pans. These little accidents always +add to the gaiety of "narks," and they the more generously reward +the deputy for affording them this extra entertainment.</p> + +<p>I was in one lodging-house in the provinces that only had +accommodation for twelve lodgers, and in that house were six +"narks" and the deputy. The night I was there, there were only +three strangers, myself and two others, and we were almost afraid +to move. One "nark" was a rag-and-bone man, who worked the country +for miles around. While I was eating my frugal supper, he spread on +the table his dirty rags and bones—so near that one bone was found +on my plate, which I returned to him—with many thanks. Seeing that +the deputy appeared quite satisfied, I dared not say much, for if I +got into trouble and had my money returned, there was not another +lodging-house within six miles.</p> + +<p>Another "nark" was a drunken drover, who left a saucepan on the fire +while he went out for a drink. When he returned he said that there +were only four potatoes and a half in the saucepan, whereas he had +put in five. It never occurred to his suspicious mind that one potato +had become small in the extra boiling, and we three strangers had to +tolerate his savage looks.</p> + +<p>Another "nark" was a blacksmith, who was out of work. This man was +lying drunk at full length on a bench, so that the two strangers had +to wait until I had finished my meal before they could get a seat +at the table, for, with the exception of the drover, all the other +"narks" had had their supper.</p> + +<p>The blacksmith had not paid his rent for two or three nights, and the +landlady—a very old woman—had ordered the deputy not to allow him +to go to bed. While I was asleep that night, I was suddenly awaked +by a slap on the face, and a croaking voice, which said—"Out of my +house, blacksmith." When I opened my eyes, I saw an old withered +face bending over mine—there must have been a hundred years in that +face. "I am not the blacksmith," I said feebly. "Liar," she shrieked, +holding the candle near my face. However, she saw her mistake, and +went away muttering, without making any apology for her mistake. No +stranger would ever think of staying two nights in a house like that.</p> + +<p>Of course, in a house where there is only one "nark," he tries to +ingratiate himself with casual men, for the sake of social company, +but they do not encourage his advances, knowing how careful they +must be of what they say. They are suspicious of him, in spite of his +good-natured offers to oblige them with a shake of pepper. By the +way, the sight of a pepper-box in a lodging-house kitchen is always a +sure sign that the man behind it is a "nark." Wanderers, however much +trouble they take to carry tea, salt, soap, thread, needle, comb, +and many other little things which must not interfere with space for +food—would never think of carrying a pepper-box, though they may +carry a little pepper in paper.</p> + +<p>No, a "nark" is not a desirable companion, and to inform a tramp that +he is going to a house that is full of them, is to daunt him more +than to say that the teapots are spoutless and cracked, the saucers +have no rims, the beds are dirty, and that the fire is small and +often out.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXVI</p> +<h2><a id="The-Scribe-in-a-Lodging-house">The Scribe in a Lodging-house</a></h2> + +<p>A man who is seen writing in a common lodging-house will soon have +his services sought so often that he must be offended, however +kind-hearted he may be. He will be pestered by illiterate seekers +of work, and even begging-letter impostors. In the latter case the +men are cunning enough to invent pitiful tales, but they lack the +education to write them. Many a man who has only lived a short time +in a lodging-house, and is innocent of the world, has written letters +for these rogues, and not known what he was doing. Strange to say, +very few of these men are able to write their own letters; and, +seeing that they usually pose for men that have lost good positions, +it is not to be wondered at when they have no courage to face a +personal interview. With regard to honest seekers of work, a man +will soon be sorry that he has obliged them, because of the awkward +position in which it places him. For instance, if they do not receive +any answer to your letter, or one that is not favourable, they are +very apt to blame the letter-writer. One day a man came to me, who +had often seen me writing, and asked if I would write him a few lines +in answer to an advertisement. Seeing that he brought a stamped +envelope and a sheet of writing-paper, and I already had pen and ink +before me, I did so at once, to my sorrow. The poor fellow received +no answer at all, and he was under the impression that I could so +word a letter that it was certain to be successful. It never occurred +to him that the advertisement being in a leading paper would be +answered by hundreds of men. When several days passed, and no answer +came, no doubt he came to the conclusion that he would have been +more successful himself, and that I had spoilt him of that job by my +manner of writing. So he was very cold after, leaving me with one +consolation—that I had not only received no benefits from him, but +wanted none, whether he was successful or not.</p> + +<p>One man, who could hardly read or write, brought me his aunt's +letter to be deciphered, from whom he was getting assistance every +week. I had so much difficulty in reading her letter that I told him +after that his aunt's writing was very bad. Hearing this he began +to throw out hints that the fault must be with me, for his aunt had +married a rich brewer, and was now a widow with seven servants. +Seeing what a simple man I had to deal with, I tried to explain +that the handwriting of some of the greatest people was bad, and +that it was not their handwriting made them great, but the thoughts +and language they used. But I saw that he could not understand my +meaning, and he brought me no more of his aunt's letters.</p> + +<p>In fact, the letters I have written to oblige others have made me +more enemies than friends. The most grateful thanks I have received +for doing this kindness was not from a man living in a lodging-house, +but from one on the outside. I was in the lodging-house kitchen one +night when "Brummy" Sam brought a married friend of his to see me. +The former lost no time in explaining to me that his friend Alf had +a daughter in service in the country. Now this daughter had been +written to several times, by her mother, sister, and brother, but +none of them could get an answer; so Alf, "Brummy" Sam explained, +"wanted to know the ins and outs of her reasons." The latter, who had +been drinking, confided to me with deep emotion that his friend Alf +was a faithful old dog, and, "as for Alf's old woman, there wasn't a +better-natured bleeding old cat in all London." Although he whispered +this information, it was quite loud enough for Alf to hear, and the +big fellow looked at Sam with gratitude. After saying these words +Sam straightened himself and said: "I have been telling Alf about +you, as how you can write, and we think you can put the letter in +such a way that she will answer at once." Hearing this I was not very +well pleased, for I could hardly hope to be more successful than the +girl's own mother. It was most likely that there was nothing the +matter at all, and that she was only waiting a convenient time to +write. However, I wrote a letter to Alf's daughter, which he received +with so much delight, and such a pressing invitation to drink, +that it quite upset me, thinking that the letter would be no more +successful than others. But I am pleased to say that she not only +answered it at once, but asked her mother who had written it. Perhaps +she thought it was a lawyer, and was afraid that further neglect in +not reporting herself at home would lead to the police court. Alf was +so grateful that his friendship became a nuisance, especially when he +was drunk; and I was very glad that he only came to the house as a +visitor, and did not live there altogether.</p> + +<p>But in a very common lodging-house it is not often that a man is +asked to write a letter. I used to write for one man to his mother, +about once a month, and he was very thankful to me, for I would +never take anything from these poor fellows. It was a dreadful task +for me to write a letter of that kind, for he had nothing to say +except—"Give my love and say I am all right, and remember me to Aunt +Sarah." And the simple man not only expected me to fill two or three +papers on this meagre information, but wanted to know if I had enough +paper. This man was a consumptive, and when I wrote one letter for +him he was about to go into a hospital. He asked me then if I would +write a few lines to his mother if anything serious happened to him. +I promised to do so, but am glad to say he was back in a few weeks, +although not much better.</p> + +<p>I shall never forget writing one letter for a man who was leading +a double life. He had only just come to our lodging-house, but he +was so well known to all the old lodgers that I could see that he +had been there before. When this man first came under my notice, +he was in the act of sewing a patch on the knee of his trousers, +the latter being still on his body. I may as well say here that he +made a very bad job of it, for he sewed his trousers to a pair of +drawers that were underneath; which made him swear so much that +night, when he undressed, that irritated lodgers, disturbed from +sleep, threatened to throw him out of the window. One day I asked a +lodger what this man did for a living, thinking that he was either +a toy-seller, paper-man, or market porter. The lodger began to +chuckle, and said: "If you are down Brixton way to-morrow, you are +likely to see him." As I asked the question for the sake of being +sociable, and not from curiosity, I thought no more of the matter. +However, some time after this I happened to be in Brixton, and saw +the man I mention, standing in the gutter—blind. He saw me too, +for he made an awful expression, which I translated into these +words—Don't stop and speak to me, pass on. A few days after this +unexpected meeting, he no sooner saw me entering the lodging-house +kitchen than he came forward with an envelope and a sheet of writing +paper. "Will you write me a letter?" he asked. "I will pay you." +Now, I had been out all day and was hungry, and was just about to +prepare my tea. So I told him sharply that if I wrote the letter I +wanted nothing for doing it, and, whether I wrote it or not, he must +give me a chance to have my tea first. Nearly all men that live in +common lodging-houses talk to each other in this strain, for they +are all more or less short-tempered, or, as they say—"scatty." So +I knew that he would not take offence, and was not surprised to +see him come forward, after he had given me ample time for tea. "I +am not much of a scholar," he began. "What do you want me to write +about?" I asked. "Well," said he, "a gentleman saw me in the street +and took my address, and has just sent me a parcel of clothes, and +I want to thank him. Here is his letter, with address, which was in +the parcel." "All right," I answered, and did so at once. After I +had done, I read aloud what I had written, and asked if it would do. +He considered for a moment, and then said: "Perhaps you will write a +little more and say as how Heaven will reward him for pitying a blind +man." I could not help laughing at this, for he spoke so exactly that +I believe the rogue had forgotten that he was not really blind.</p> + +<p>It is very pathetic on a Christmas morning to see seventy or eighty +men in a lodging-house, and not six of them receive any greetings +from the outside world. In one house, where the manager's charming +little daughter received scores of letters and presents from +school-friends and friends of her parents, there were not ten out of +ninety lodgers who received a single letter—on a Christmas morning! +It was when I saw this that it came on me in full force to know what +an isolated plague spot a common lodging-house is. Men who have spent +years in such places must feel deeply the loneliness of their lives +at that season, when every person outside a lodging-house finds time +to either visit friends and relatives, or write to them.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXVII</p> +<h2><a id="Licensed-Beggars">Licensed Beggars</a></h2> + +<p>With all the tricks and dodges of beggars, the man that owns a +pedlar's certificate—which is known as "a brief"—is, taking it all +the year round, the most successful. It matters not to him whether +the police in a town are strict or not, and he is little interested +when he hears street-singers or downright beggars approve or +disapprove of the police in certain towns. Armed with this authority, +he is a man of cool courage and impudence, and, when he produces his +"brief," he makes the inquisitive constable that interferes with him, +flush painfully. "Is that all the stock you have?" asks the constable +sternly, glancing at the man's paltry few laces, and knowing well +that he is using them for begging purposes—"Is that all the stock +you carry?" "It is all I need," the other often answers impudently, +shaking his laces in one hand, and his certificate in the other. All +towns are not favourable to the street-singer, even though they may +be good for the more silent beggar; and the downright beggar is apt +at any moment to have the door answered by a policeman, and where is +he then? But the licensed beggar is safe.</p> + +<p>Now it is often very difficult to get this pedlar's certificate, +although the man has the five shillings to buy it; especially in +London, where a man has to be a resident in one place for six months, +and must also give reasons for his request, that he is physically +unfit to follow his trade or to do rough labour. But beggars know +of small towns in the provinces where they only have to show five +shillings and tell a lie or two, and the certificate is theirs at +once. And when a man has one, the difficulty is over for all time, +for he can get it renewed at the most particular town, without +trouble or question.</p> + +<p>A man may pursue his calling for a very long time without being +asked to show his license, and another man may be asked to show his +several times in one month, perhaps twice in one day. I knew one man +that went all through the year without interference, but the very +first week that his license expired and he had not renewed it, he was +accosted by a policeman and arrested. This luckily turned out to his +advantage, for when he explained to the magistrate his inability to +save five shillings for its renewal, that gentleman generously gave +him the amount out of the poor-box, and the license was renewed. Of +course the man had begged enough during the week to be independent +of this aid, for one lady had given him two shillings towards that +end, and from several others he had received small silver instead of +pennies to enable him—as he told them—"to earn an honest livelihood +by selling laces, instead of begging." Yes, many a dear lady highly +commended this fine, fat fellow for such a noble resolution. As I +have said, he had received more than twice five shillings in the week +by showing ladies his expired license, but a terrible thirst was on +him, and he could not possibly pass a public-house.</p> + +<p>It will, no doubt, be interesting news to the police, and even a +number of beggars, to know that men often hide their licenses in +the lining of their clothes, taking out a few stitches, and sewing +up again. Quite a number of beggars sew up their valuables in their +clothes, as a safeguard against loss; but the licensed beggar has +another motive for doing so. The reason why he hides his license +is that when he exhausts his very small stock, in an hour or two, +he then takes to downright begging for the rest of the day, as he +does not wish to waste time; and there may not be a swag-shop (a +shop where hawkers are supplied), near, or there may not be one in +the town. Now if he is arrested for begging, he will get ten days' +imprisonment and, if a pedlar's license is found on him, he will +receive the extra punishment of having it taken from him, and not +returned. So he serves his ten days, happy to think that his "brief" +is safe in the lining of his clothes. He can safely rely on this +being so, for a common beggar is never subjected to a severe search.</p> + +<p>I knew one man that had a wife and three very small children, +and, on the day I made their acquaintance, she and the children +remained in the lodging-house all day, so that she could do some +washing. When the husband went out that morning, rather late, all +his stock-in-trade consisted of was six pairs of cheap mohair laces, +which cost him threepence, and with these he went to work. Soon he +returned with one shilling and ninepence in coppers, four parcels +of food, and two pairs of laces still left. Eighteen pence had to +be paid for their night's lodging, without a question of food for +five bodies. Giving his wife the money, he again sailed forth for +the afternoon. In four hours he returned with one and eleven pence, +and no laces. After which she, having finished her washing, went out +shopping, and soon returned with bread, tea, sugar, milk, mutton +chops, and a fresh stock of laces; also two separate half-ounces +of tobacco, one for him and one for herself. With this supply, and +the contents of her husband's pockets—he regretted that he could +not carry more—the family could do very well for tea, supper, and +breakfast the next morning. This industrious couple were always very +successful on Sunday mornings, when they sang hymns in the street, +with the three small children at their side.</p> + +<p>One of the most versatile beggars that I have ever met was Harry the +Whistler, who was so resourceful that he was indifferent whether +his wife remained idle at home in the lodging-house or not. He also +carried a "brief," with a few pins and needles, for the benefit of +odd houses scattered here and there; but when he saw a number of +houses close together, or anything that looked like a street, he +would immediately make a stand and blow a tin whistle. Sometimes, to +relieve the monotony, he and his wife sang together, but more often +than not she stood silently at his side, and received the reward of +his playing.</p> + +<p>The first time I met this couple, Harry the Whistler had to go to bed +early, so that his wife could mend the bottom of his trousers. They +almost came to blows on this occasion, for the wife maintained that +she would not sit up late night after night to mend his trousers, +and that if he would still persist in blowing a tin whistle, and +having the bottom of his trousers torn by dogs, instead of going in +for chanting, peddling, or straight begging, she would no longer +travel with him. After he had cursed dogs to his heart's content, he +confessed that it was no more pleasure for him to go to bed early +than it was for her to sit up late and mend his trousers, and that in +the future he would cease playing as soon as his notes were answered +by a dog's bark.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXVIII</p> +<h2><a id="Navvies-and-Frauds">Navvies and Frauds</a></h2> + +<p>Navvies in common lodging-houses receive much contempt from pedlars, +grinders, and true beggars. They are always washing clothes and +making shackles (soup) on Sunday, owing to their perspiration and +dry food during the week; and while they are going about these long +tasks, others cannot find accommodation. They always manage to get +the use of the whole fire—centre, sides, and front—just before +public-houses open; after which they booze until closing time, and +then return to fill every utensil in the kitchen—basins, teacups, +and saucers—with their greasy shackles. Although generous to one +another, they would not let the smell of their shackles reach true +beggars, if it could be prevented; and yet, when a navvy is reduced +to the price of his bed only, he hints at his wants in a common +lodging-house kitchen, expecting assistance from beggars, instead of +making his wants known outside.</p> + +<p>The navvy is more often than not a very timid beggar, and, when he +can, lives upon stolen apples, turnips, blackberries, etc.; aye, +and the picked-up bread that true beggars have cast away. In spite +of this, I have seen an exceptional navvy that had the impudence to +stand pad in a crowded market-place; which means that he would stand +in the street gutter with a few laces or pins in his hand, a thing +that only afflicted ones are expected to do. He does this on the +night that follows pay-day, and it must be confessed that he meets +with some reward. Sometimes a servant girl gives him a penny through +admiration of his stalwart form; sometimes an old lady gives him a +penny because his nose is like her son's; and, seeing that on this +particular night everybody is happy with money in their pockets, it +is not to be surprised at that a number of stray coppers find their +way into his pocket. In this instance, charity is certainly not +misplaced, for this man would rather work than beg. If he was engaged +to be at your house to do a job on the following day, you could have +little doubt but what he would appear. Only one thing would prevent +him, and that is the arrival at the lodging-house of moneyed navvies +that have just finished a job. In that case he would not need the +little work offered to him, and it would be the best policy not to +absent himself from his new friends—not even for a few minutes, for, +when men are drinking, they are apt to change suddenly. As long as he +is face to face with them, all goes well, but he no sooner turns his +back than a word of suspicion is dropped, and he returns to find that +his former friends are—if not drunk—cold and reserved; and if they +are drunk he will find them not only ready to quarrel, but to murder.</p> + +<p>The navvy is a real working-man, but he has to travel for work from +place to place, and his jobs are very often short through no fault +of his own. Being a rough, uncouth, and ill-mannered man, fond +of drink and freedom to chew and smoke tobacco, to spit, and use +strong language, he has no other option than to live in a common +lodging-house, even though he is earning as much money as a good +mechanic.</p> + +<p>Now, although a navvy spends the best part of his life among beggars +in common lodging-houses, it is surprising how simple and innocent +he is as to beggars' tricks and dodges. If he saw a man in a fit in +the street, the navvy would be one of the last to suspect that man +of being a fraud. If he saw a man making feeble attempts to climb a +bridge's wall or railings, and drop into the river, the navvy would +be the last to have suspicion that that man was doing so to introduce +himself to one who would listen to his pitiful story, and help him +with a shilling or more. And the navvy would never suspect the child +that pretends to lose money and begins to cry in a loud voice. And +yet this navvy spends his life in a lodging-house, where these +cunning mortals live.</p> + +<p>These tricks are not so common as people suppose; they are in fact +very rare. Many an honest man has fits, the rivers give up a number +of suicides, and with regard to the child losing money—was there +ever a child that did not?</p> + +<p>Beggars have various ways by which they can get shillings instead +of pennies. When a beggar in a lodging-house kitchen produced a +massive ring for the inspection of his fellow lodgers, it was eagerly +commented on as "a good one"; by which they meant to say that it was +a good imitation, for they all knew that it was a dummy. But a navvy +saw that it was marked so many carats, felt that it was heavy, saw +that it was of good colour, and exclaimed, to the derision of the +lodgers assembled: "It's real gold! Did you pick it up?" "Will you +give me sixpence for it?" asked the other. The navvy did not answer, +for this question seemed to enlighten him.</p> + +<p>The ring dodge is a paying concern, for the sale of one ring often +means dinner, drinks, supper, bed, and breakfast. The ring is, to +all appearance, valuable; according to its colour, finish, weight, +and—the best sign of all—its mark of carats. All that is to be done +is to invite inspection, and if you are suspected of being a thief +who is afraid to enter a pawnshop, so much the better, for you are +almost certain to find an avaricious victim. Very few men can resist +giving a couple of shillings for an article which they feel satisfied +can be again easily disposed of at a good profit. I have often been +invited as a would-be purchaser to examine a ring in the hand of a +seedy-looking man, and, if he persists, I simply say, "I live in a +doss-house," and he does not waste any more time on me.</p> + +<p>Then there is the razor-man, with his very cheap razors, which look +so very good. It is generally in public-houses where the razor-man +succeeds. Producing a fine-looking razor, he invites inspection, and +when it meets with approval he offers it for sale. If he cannot get +more than three times its worth, he is in bad luck indeed.</p> + +<p>Then there is the man who carries a few cheap spectacles, which never +cost him more than twopence-halfpenny a pair. At night this man +finds victims in public-houses, and by day the ladies must suffer. +Sometimes he carries a few laces, pins, and needles, etc., so as to +get a few coppers at places where spectacles would not be needed. +When an elderly lady answers the door, he, after a while, introduces +the spectacles, taking them from his inside pocket. It is more than +probable that she uses glasses to read and sew, even if she is not +wearing them then.</p> + +<p>In a case of this kind women, also men, are very curious, and they +cannot resist the temptation to try the glasses, even though they are +well suited with what they possess. Moreover, it is well to have +several pairs of glasses, in case of accidents.</p> + +<p>Now, sometimes a very common pair of glasses will suit better than +costly ones for which the eyes were tested; even as a brass watch +may keep better time than a gold one, or a pair of ready-made boots +fit better than a pair made to order. If the old lady is satisfied +that she can see as well as with her own, the glasses at once assume +value, and this is known to the pedlar, for he never mentions a word +about price until he hears her verdict. First she tries one pair, and +then another, until she confesses that one pair in particular suits +her eyes. On hearing this the man gives his price, which is according +to what he thinks the woman can afford. If she can afford to make +a purchase, she does, and tells him that she can see better with +his eighteen-penny glasses than with a pair for which her eyes were +tested, and which cost her seven shillings and sixpence, or more. And +these spectacles cost the pedlar two shillings and sixpence per dozen.</p> + +<p>A little originality converts a common beggar into a great one. When +I was in the Welsh hills, where common lodging-houses were scarce, +I found a house to my liking, and, seeing that there were a number +of good-sized towns near, within three or four miles, determined to +make it my quarters for a month or more, and thoroughly work the +country around. I was selling laces at the time, and on my visit to +one of the towns, I had remarkably good luck. Seeing a long street, I +called at every house and received in all one shilling and twopence +for my trouble, with the sale of four pairs of laces, which cost me +less than twopence. I mentioned this to a fellow-lodger, who had +been staying at the house for several days. When at his request I +described the position of the street, he said, with a quiet smile: "I +got eight shillings and sixpence out of that street." "What were you +selling?" I asked, thinking he must be in a large way of business, +and wondering why he lived at a common lodging-house. "Nothing," he +answered, to my amazement; "it was all profit." This made me curious, +for I knew that he, being a man apparently unafflicted and in good +health, could not be very successful as a plain beggar. Before we +went to bed this man gave me a letter to read, and in this letter +it said that he was one of the strikers at M——, and that he had +a wife and four children to maintain, and ended with a polite +and dignified request for assistance. With this letter he did his +business, simply handing it to whoever answered the door, with the +request that they would take it in and read it. His time was night, +when the whole family were at home, probably two or three working +sons and the father; and when he could go from door to door without +attracting notice.</p> + +<p>Who could insult this man with a common penny? No doubt two or three +people that had given me pennies refused this more ambitious man; but +others, who thought a penny quite enough for me, gave him sixpence or +a shilling. The letter—what originality! It did not give a servant +chance to dismiss him, for she had no suspicion of his wants; and +it did not give one of the family power to speak for all. And yet, +in spite of knowing these tricks, I still continued the far less +profitable traffic in laces.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXIX</p> +<h2><a id="A-First-Night-in-a-Lodging-house">A First Night in a Lodging-house</a></h2> + +<p>I have lived so full a life that I forgot, till lately, an incident +that other men would, if it was their experience, talk about till +the end of their days; for it was at that time that I first became +acquainted with common lodging-houses and shelters. It was when I was +young, twenty years of age, and had just finished my apprenticeship, +that I paid my fare to London, and then had five weeks' experience +of the worst side of life. When I arrived in London, I had a gold +sovereign and a few shillings; and, being full of hope, like all +young people, went to a small hotel, had a good meal, and paid two +shillings and sixpence for my bed. At this rate I was soon bankrupt, +and then commenced my experience of real life; for I was soon hungry +and walking the streets at night. But on the first night I had the +good fortune to be assisted by a gentleman who, seeing me standing +under an arch, asked a few questions and then gave me sixpence. This +was my first experience of acute hunger, and it so frightened me that +when day came, and I had had a cup of tea and a slice of bread and +butter, I bought half a pennyworth of stationery and a stamp and sent +home for money, having the reply addressed to a post office in the +Strand. The following day I received a letter with a postal order +for twenty shillings. A few days had taught me much, and I was now +determined to spend no more half-crowns on beds, but to make this +money last as long as possible. So I asked a ragged man what was the +cheapest bed I could get, and he said fourpence, but that I could get +a bunk at the Salvation Army shelter for twopence. Leaving him I went +in quest of a fourpenny lodging-house in the East End, and soon found +one. That was my first experience in a common lodging-house, but I +cannot say that at that time the experience filled me with anything +like horror. I was young and romantic, and felt proud in having such +a strange experience, which I could talk about when I would be in a +better position, to people's amazement. However, I only stayed there +three nights, because I saw that I would soon be hungry again, if I +did not seek cheaper lodgings. So I made enquiries about a Salvation +Army shelter, and was soon inside one in Ratcliff Highway. I did not +think this place quite so romantic as the common lodging-house, for +here were so many men that not one could be seated with comfort, and +these men were more ragged and dirtier.</p> + +<p>Now, at this time I was a pure-minded youth, who had been a +chapel-goer, by compulsion 'tis true; and I thought the world was +divided into two classes—the wicked, who never went to a place of +worship, and the good, who went every Sunday at least. I had never +given it a thought what a hypocrite was, and that people would go to +church or chapel from other motives than religion. For this reason +what surprised and shocked me most at this shelter was to hear the +Salvation Army soldiers using bad language. I could hardly believe my +ears, when I heard them, even on Sunday, before and after a meeting +in which they had prayed and sung.</p> + +<p>The bunks in this shelter were on the floor, and contained a mattress +covered with leather, and a leather quilt. This was quite sufficient +for warmth, for every man lay in his clothes, and so many men +together made the air warm and very foul. Each bunk was about six +feet long, two feet and a half wide, and six inches in height. I need +hardly say that I soon got homesick; and when I heard a couple of +sailors say that they were going to South Wales to look for a ship, I +at once offered to accompany them. Luckily for me these two sailors +were good cadgers, having often tramped across country to different +seaports, so that I was not likely to starve in their company. The +next morning, when I told them I had a silver shilling left, and +took their advice to spend it on ale and tobacco, they promised with +many oaths that I should not want for food on the road. But I only +accompanied them a little more than half-way, and then left them; +for they, having no sure prospects, were not inclined to tax their +walking strength to the utmost. My last stage was over sixty miles, +with only one stop, and that was nine miles from home. It was then +night, and I met a policeman who wanted to know where I was going. +"Home," I answered, and added the name of the town. I began to feel +a bit tired now, and sat on a bank for a few moments' rest, after +which I rose and continued my way. But I had hardly gone twenty yards +when I met a policeman again, who said: "Hallo! what are you doing +here? I thought you were going home?" "So I am," I answered, quite +bewildered. "You are going away from it," he said; "you have walked +back two miles from where I met you before." When I had sat on the +bank I must have fallen asleep, and, waking, did not know in the dark +but what I was going right. However, at that time these experiences +only made romance. The truth is that as long as the young do not +feel actual hunger, they care little for other things. And I was +very fortunate in these few weeks, for I was never forced to beg. +The two sailors not only fed me, but, when I left them, gave me as +much food as I was likely to want on my way home. It was years after, +when I began to feel literary ambition and wanted privacy, that I +experienced the horror of being mixed with thirty or forty men in a +small lodging-house kitchen.</p> + +<p>One day, when I had been in a common lodging-house for a considerable +time, I met a man in Hyde Park, who had lately come from the +country, and was now come to his last shilling, after selling +whatever he had of value. Hearing this, I could do no other than +take him to the lodging-house where I lived. I gathered from his +conversation that he had no idea of such places. Now it happened that +I was living in a very low-class house in Blackfriars, whose inmates +were not only very poor and ragged, but rough and brutal; so, when I +began to think of this, I almost repented of my offer to take charge +of him. However, it was too late now, so on we went, and were soon at +the house. When we entered the kitchen there were three of the worst +lodgers quarrelling, and not only drunk, but with a can full of beer +on the table. What must have been this man's thoughts, who had only +just left a good home? for he had been telling me about his mother +and sisters. I told him to sit down and wait until I returned from +shopping, after which we would have tea. I was away less than ten +minutes, for there were several shops near, but when I came back he +had gone. Speaking to one of the lodgers about him, I was told that +he had followed me out, close at my heels. I never saw him again. I +believe that he was so disgusted with his strange surroundings that +he started for home at once, although it was a hundred miles away. +His feelings must have been very strong, seeing that he had already +paid for his bed, and that sum was now lost to him. I have often +wondered what must have been his final opinion of me, to whom he had +entrusted his confidence. Perhaps he thought that I had decoyed him +there to be robbed of his very clothes. The place must have seemed +horrible to him, with its dark, underground kitchen, no woman there, +and nothing, except a cat, to make it appear like a home.</p> + +<p>Of course, I am speaking now of the very lowest +lodging-houses—houses that are seldom written about; for journalists +choose better-class lodging-houses for their visits. Some time ago, +I read an account of a journalist going to spend one night in a +lodging-house. He explained how he pocketed his briar pipe, and took +a common clay one, and how he dirtied his face and hands. Now it +happened that the house he went to was a superior lodging-house where +he would see a number of men with silk hats and watches and chains. +In fact, this innocent journalist made himself ill-looking enough +for a fourpenny lodging-house, and I would not have been surprised +if he had been refused a bed at the house to which he went. After +reading his account I have come to the conclusion that he did not +visit the place at all.</p> + +<p>Speaking of journalistic work, I know a book that describes low +life in London, with pictures taken from life. When I look at one +picture I see a man and a woman with a handcart loaded with household +furniture. These two are leaving a house at night, for they owe rent. +But when I look closer still, I recognize both the man and the woman; +and I know that the former has been in a lodging-house for twenty +years, during which time he never had furniture. I also know that +the woman has not for thirty years had cause to do what the picture +represents. Of course, this does not matter, for such things are to +be seen—but the picture was not taken from real life. The picture +was taken by day, when people do not make "moonlight flits"; and at +night—which the scene represents—the great journalist was sleeping +in his luxurious home.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXX</p> +<h2><a id="Gentleman-Bill">Gentleman Bill</a></h2> + +<p>A man may not only play many parts in life, but sometimes even his +real character undergoes a change and conforms to his surroundings. +Such was the case with Gentleman Bill. When he first came to our +lodging-house he was a quiet, modest man, who was almost too timid +to hazard a suggestion on the most common subjects; but in less than +three months conceit and importance was so thrust upon him that he +was almost too proud to walk. I was a witness of this development +of a new character, right from the beginning, and saw that Bill was +not in any way to blame; but that the ignorance of his associates +shoved him, in spite of his modesty, shoulder-high above themselves. +Bill, it appeared to me, had mixed, ere his downfall, with people who +were his equal, and not a few of whom were his superior—hence his +modesty when he first came to our house as a needy lodger.</p> + +<p>He was seen to be a very quiet man, always reading newspapers or +books, or walking silently up and down the kitchen in deep thought. +For a month or more the lodgers took very little notice of him, but +when his appearance had grown familiar to them, they began to ask +his opinion on different subjects—cooking, physic, the nutritious +value of foods, the meaning of words, the use of the House of Lords, +and many other interesting things. These questions were answered by +Bill in such a high-flown manner, as became a great reader, that +really his hearers were little the wiser, and came to the conclusion +that Bill's knowledge was far too deep for them. The lodgers were so +awestruck at Bill's easy delivery of unusual words that they could +not grasp the underlying thought. It was not long before he became so +puffed with his own importance, and so eager to express his opinions, +that he did not wait an invitation to join in a conversation, but +stood in the middle of the kitchen and spoke in such a masterly +way that some of the lodgers thought that he was an ex-M.P. He was +not satisfied with giving his own opinions, but quoted poets, +philosophers, lawyers, and statesmen; and the lodgers at last became +so impressed that they sought him all over the house to hear him +settle an argument. One morning Little Brum actually took a cup of +tea to Gentleman Bill, while the latter was in bed, so as to get him +down to settle a dispute which was likely to make the principals lose +a morning's work.</p> + +<p>It was not long before Bill had to pay the penalty of being so +important, for some of the more simple lodgers began to ask him such +idiotic questions that Bill, who up to the present had never been +at a loss for a word, could do little more than stand dumb with +amazement. For instance, one day a poor simple fellow asked the +following question: "Is it right to post a letter to-day that was +written yesterday?" An Irishman asked him the belief of the laity, +and whether they were for or against the Pope of Rome. Another had +heard that an egg boiled too hard could be again boiled soft, and +wanted to know if it could be boiled to recover its first raw state. +Poor Bill began to lose patience and grumble, saying that he could +not be expected to know everything. The lodgers would not allow him +peace to have a cup of tea, to shave, wash, or read.</p> + +<p>I happened to be sleeping in the same room as Bill, a large room with +seven beds to accommodate seven men. Early one morning, about three +o'clock, I was in that half-wakeful state when a man turns his body +over in sleep, and thought I heard voices. Curiosity getting the +better of sleep, I listened, and sure enough the man in the next bed +to Bill was asking him a number of questions. The questions must have +interested Bill, for he immediately sat up in bed and began a long +talk. When I fell asleep he was still sitting up and talking, and I +did not wonder that he was a late riser.</p> + +<p>On one occasion there was a terrible fuss in the house, and a lodger +called Bill a damned conspirator. It seemed that the man had claimed +a letter at the office which did not belong to him. When the clerk +received letters he wrote the surnames on a sheet of paper, which he +placed in the window. The Christian names were kept secret, so that +he could question applicants about them, this being the only plan of +placing letters in the right hands. Where there were such a number of +men there were certain to be several of the name of Smith, Jones, +Brown, and other common names. So when one morning the clerk received +a letter for William Henry, he added the surname to his list. Reading +the list of names a simple lodger, whose Christian name was Henry, +made application for the said letter. The clerk got the letter and, +glancing at the envelope, made his usual enquiry, "Your Christian +name?" Now it happened that the man did not know the meaning of this +question, and to be on the safe side he gave his full name, which was +Henry Brown. The clerk lost patience at Brown's simplicity and said, +"This letter is not for you; your Christian name is Henry, but the +man to whom this letter belongs is surnamed Henry." The dissatisfied +and unconvinced lodger left the office and sought Gentleman Bill, +whom he found and consulted. Bill went into a long discourse as to +the origin of surnames, but the lodger cut him short by asking what +right the clerk had to place his name on the list and not give up +the letter. It was no use for Bill to try to explain the difference +between surnames and Christian names, and he was no more successful +than the clerk, although he took fifty times the time and words. +The upshot of it was that the infuriated lodger called Bill a damned +conspirator, whereas Bill also lost his calmness and called the +lodger a fool.</p> + +<p>How Bill was spoilt by so much consultation was made apparent to me +by a little incident that escaped the notice of others. He had been +having a glass or two of ale, and, coming into the kitchen with his +book, which was a grammar, seated himself comfortably at the fire. +The effect of the ale, the heat of the fire, and the inactive state +of his body, soon made Bill bow his head to the table, and in a +minute or two he was fast asleep. I happened to be sitting near him +at the time, and was taken by surprise to hear his voice. Thinking +he was addressing me I turned, but saw that he was fast asleep and +talking to himself. All at once I heard him say, as distinctly +as though he had been awake, "What I need is a silk hat and a +frock-coat"; meaning, of course, that if he had those things, for the +sake of appearance, his knowledge, conversation, and manners would be +the making of him.</p> + +<p>On one or two occasions I had the honour of being consulted by +Bill—of which I am very proud, for he did not consider any other +man in the house able to teach him anything. I had always managed to +satisfy him with my remarks, but when he approached me one night, +with his grammar book in his hand, and asked me if I knew anything +about the infinitive split, the question almost took my breath away. +Certainly I had heard of it, heard enough to know that it was to be +avoided as a subject of argument, or it would soon worry a man to +a shadow. I told Bill at once that I could not enlighten him, and +advised him not to worry over it. This advice was not taken, for he +bought two more cheap second-hand grammar books, and still could +not get on the track of the infinitive split. In less than three +weeks his voice was low and weak, his face became haggard and thin, +his hair lay uncombed on his forehead, and his bones began to show +their shape under the skin. He was not even civil in those days, and +no longer felt the importance of being consulted. He requested the +lodgers not to bother him, that he had other things on his mind, and +far more trouble than he could contend with.</p> + +<p>Yes. Bill was a nice fellow when he first came to the house, modest +and unassuming; he was also interesting to hear when he became +confident and assertive; but after he fell foul of the infinitive +split, he became a man to be avoided, and his curt answers made many +a man frown.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXXI</p> +<h2><a id="Fallacies-Concerning-Beggars">Fallacies Concerning Beggars</a></h2> + +<p>There are quite a number of fallacies, concerning beggars, which are +sadly in need of contradiction, so that these much-misunderstood men +may stand in their innocence before the public. They do not mark +houses, as is commonly supposed; they do not spend the money of +charity on drink; they do not possess hidden hoards; and they have as +much dread of meeting women in lonely places as the latter have of +meeting them.</p> + +<p>In the first place, why should they mark houses? If you enter a +common lodging-house in the country, you will find, on making +enquiry, that two out of three beggars have been there before, and +know from past experience one or more good houses; but they would +rather share their spoils with you than show these houses, or explain +their where-abouts. Beggars, however good-natured they may be in a +lodging-house, are all selfish on this one point. They always live +in expectation of future benefits from those houses, and it is not +likely that they will risk spoiling them by giving information to +others who may not approach them in a proper manner, or may even be +impudent. If you ever see a house marked you may be sure that it is +by one of a family, who are working different parts of the town, and +who will change about on the following days. Private people seem to +know more of this matter than beggars, for, after visiting more than +a hundred lodging-houses, and hearing the conversation of thousands +of beggars, I have not heard one whisper of a marked house.</p> + +<p>Another belief is that beggars possess secret hoards. Because +people in years of reading have seen two or three accounts of cases +of this kind, they are under the impression that half the beggars +that approach them are misers that would rather beg than buy. Now +good beggars will still work on the public feeling with three or +four shillings' worth of coppers in their pockets, but you could +search the first thousand you met and be very unlikely to find +gold. The most persistent beggars will often beg hard until they +have saved a few shillings, after which they feel justified in +taking a much-deserved rest, and are often to be seen idling for a +couple of days in a town that is no good for begging, but where the +accommodation of the lodging-house is excellent.</p> + +<p>Another fallacy is that they are eager to molest women and children. +It is a mystery how these charges can be made against them, for few +cases of the kind get into the papers. The only way to account for +this belief is that all undiscovered violence and petty crime is put +down to be the work of tramps, and the papers are only too eager to +take such a view. When a man fell from his bicycle, trying to avoid +running over an old deaf tramp, the local press thought it would make +better copy to say that the man was knocked off his bicycle by a +vicious tramp, much to the surprise of the man himself.</p> + +<p>Again, a tramp does not like to meet a woman in a lonely place, and +he often whistles loudly so as to encourage her not to faint, and he +never forgets to give her plenty of room to pass, and nothing annoys +him more than to see timid children run into their houses at his +approach. A tramp likes to have women answer the door to him, when +they have the confidence of being surrounded by neighbours; but when +it comes to the open air, women are a nuisance to him, and he would +be glad if no women walked abroad. He can approach his own sex and +speak, but he is afraid of being within ten feet of a woman's nerves.</p> + +<p>Then there is the fallacy that he is spending money on drink, +because he is seen going in or out of a public-house. People do not +know that he enters as a beggar, not as a customer, and that he +often gets tipsy because beer is often easier to beg than bread or +pennies. I have seen hundreds of beggars drunk who had not spent one +penny on drink. On a Saturday night, almost every man in a common +lodging-house is drunk, and often against his wish. All beggars know +that they can do almost as well on a Saturday night by telling their +tales in public-houses, as they can by calling at private houses all +through the week; and in doing so they get drunk on free drinks, +without having spent one of the many pennies they have received from +customers.</p> + +<p>Another fallacy is that beggars are the authors of so many deeds of +barn-burning, theft, and assaults on women who could not recognize +their assailants in the dark. It is quite a common thing to hear +tramps in a common lodging-house say, "Tramps, of course, will be +blamed for this," when one of them reads aloud of an undiscovered +crime. Sometimes the real culprits are at last found, and though they +are not strange tramps, but people of the locality, yet no one thinks +of apologizing for the unjust suspicion on tramps.</p> + +<p>They do not often burn hayricks for spite, as is commonly supposed. +They may accidentally burn one through smoking. It should be +understood that they are very careful not to do so, or they would +have to walk until they were miles away, and would rob themselves of +a comfortable night's rest. No, farmers have jealous neighbours and +discontented labourers, who are worse enemies than strange tramps. +Idle threats, due to irritation, are generally the extent of their +crime. Is it likely that a beggar who has been refused food at a +house will hide somewhere and nurse vengeance for hours, so that he +may break into it or set fire to it at night? He is hungry, and +he must travel on in search of food, and he will at last meet with +success; and there is not a man in the world more innocent of acts of +crime than he is then, when his empty body is satisfied. He forgets +all past unkindness, and the household that he has threatened to +murder has passed out of his recollection for ever.</p> + +<p>People should know that tramps talk aloud to themselves, owing to +being so much alone. Therefore, when a woman refuses a tramp on the +score of a husband doing little work, and the said tramp goes away +muttering, she must not at once come to the conclusion, as she always +does, that he is cursing her; for it is more than likely that he is +cursing some cause he imagines has placed her in such a helpless +position.</p> + +<p>There is one thing against a beggar that has been witnessed so often +that it would be folly to dispute the truth of it, which is that he +throws food away. Although he cannot be altogether justified, yet an +explanation of the real facts may go far to make people sympathize +with his dilemmas.</p> + +<p>People seldom take into consideration that he needs a bed, and they +would often rather give him two-penny-worth of food than a halfpenny +in money. Now a beggar knows that if he asks at a house point-blank +for money, nothing will he get; or, occasionally a woman will say, "I +will give you something to eat." For that reason he always asks for +food, and then gets an odd penny here and there—which he would not +get if he asked for money. But it is often necessary to beg so much +food in getting a few coppers for his lodging and a little tea and +tobacco, that he soon gets encumbered with more food than he can hide +or eat. In this case he cannot continue begging—which he must, or go +into the workhouse—so he throws the food away and continues to beg +more of it, in the hope of getting money for his bed. But very few +beggars ever threw food away without feeling regret that they had to +do so. It is for this reason that so many beggars carry a few cheap +trifles, such as pins, needles, laces, or some self-made novelty. +With these things they are sure of getting money for their lodging, +and, while doing so, beg food from those that will not buy.</p> + +<p>I hope by these explanations to have made a beggar worthy of kinder +consideration, and proved his to be a character to be loved and +respected. Henceforth let no lady be afraid to walk a lonely road +without a dog, for her presence is dreaded by a tramp, however +beautiful she may be. The tramp has not Tommy Atkins's eye for female +beauty.</p> + +<p>Let no total abstainer, who has given a beggar a penny, and sees +him enter a public-house, think that the penny goes for beer, for a +beggar is more likely to go in to beg instead of buy.</p> + +<p>Think not because you have read of one case where a beggar was +arrested and found to have considerable money sewn in his clothes, +that every beggar you meet has saved money.</p> + +<p>Think not because a beggar was seen in the morning to pass a barn +that was burned to the ground that same night, that he was the guilty +one. A burning barn would not feed his body, and he would not remain +there long enough to warm his feet and dry his socks.</p> + +<p>And if you still believe that beggars mark houses, go to the window +and watch every one that leaves, and you are likely to be a great +many years before you catch one in the act of doing so. Houses <i>are</i> +marked, but in nine cases out of ten children are the guilty ones.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXXII</p> +<h2><a id="Lady-Tramps">Lady Tramps</a></h2> + +<p>Almost all tramps who travel alone object to women in a common +lodging-house. Even the landlord of such a place soon learns from +experience that women take out in accommodation the worth of their +money, for they make the place too much of a home. If they are +bad wives they are continually squabbling with their husbands, or +scolding their children; if they are good wives they are always +cooking, or covering the limited number of seats and tables with +sewing material, or surrounding the fire with newly washed clothes; +and the poor bachelor, who is more indifferent to cleanliness, and +often prefers a slice of bacon quickly done to the labour of cooking +vegetable meals—this poor bachelor complains not only that he cannot +get near the fire, but that there is not enough room on the tables +to lay his food, which is not often the truth.</p> + +<p>As for the landlords, they are becoming more bitter every day, and +these unfortunate women now find it so difficult to get lodgings, +that they dare not visit any town haphazard, but must make enquiries +of their fellow travellers as to accommodation for women. Often they +hear, to their disappointment, of houses that formerly lodged women +being changed into houses for men only. And if these women have +children, matters are still worse, for they are objected to on that +account. It is therefore not the least wonder that when a man, his +wife, and two or more children, succeed in being lodged, they are +loth to leave that town until they have tapped it thoroughly—north, +south, east, and west, house and shop; and sometimes they remain +so long in that one town—perhaps three months or more—that their +faces become known, and they are not supposed to belong to a tribe of +wanderers. It is in the summer months, when the nights are warm, and +they are independent of lodging-houses, that they prove themselves to +be true travellers.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it is because women are so much better beggars than men that +they are disliked both by bachelor beggars and lodging-house keepers. +The former know well that if a woman once starts in a street, +she will carry all before her—money, clothes, and food; and the +landlords know that a woman is so successful that she is soon back +again in the lodging-house; in fact she is often there twenty-three +hours out of the twenty-four. Whereas the man, however good a beggar +he may be, is absent several hours in a day, for he not only takes +much longer than a woman to earn a living, but he is fond of standing +at street corners, and sometimes he visits a library. The woman is +instinctively inclined to make the place a home, but the man more +often uses it simply as a place wherein to eat and sleep.</p> + +<p>The woman, whether she has little ones or not, is always believed +when she claims to have a family, and she receives wearing apparel +for them, and food. The former she sells cheaply to the poor but +more respectable class of people that live in the locality of cheap +lodging-houses. But the man can never do business with children in +the spirit; he needs them in the flesh at his side, or he is not +believed to be a father.</p> + +<p>After a woman has been on the road a little time and become +familiar with lodging-houses and begging, she finds little +difficulty in maintaining a husband that will neither work, beg, nor +steal—especially if she has a child for the poor fellow to look +after; to wheel in a box, when he must take great care to stop in +front of the house where his wife is. The most hard-hearted cannot +withhold their charity, for the child's sake. As soon as the man +hears the front door open, he must become very interested in his +offspring, and move in a circle round the box, trying to make the +child more comfortable. His solicitude is almost certain of reward, +for the lady of the house cannot fail to see this, and her tender +heart overflows in pity for the whole family. "Whatever his faults +are," thinks she, "he undoubtedly has a father's feeling for the poor +child." Of course the father is as fond of his child as any other +father would be, and he would do anything in reason for it—anything, +except work.</p> + +<p>Another objection lodging-house keepers have to women lodgers is +that when they begin a quarrel they are so long in bringing it +to an end, especially if under the influence of drink. Whereas +in the case of men it is often a short violent tussle of two or +three minutes—fifteen minutes would be unusual for two untrained +men—and that is the end of it, for neither one has a wish to renew +hostilities. It is all over before a constable can be found, much +less dragged unwillingly to the battle ground.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I heard one lady lodger say to a landlord, who had threatened +to eject her for speaking her mind—"Yes," said she, "and if +I had Liverpool Nora and Brummagem Sal at my side, instead of +this"—pointing to her husband—"we would soon see who's who in a +very short time." Some time after I had the pleasure of meeting +Liverpool Nora, and my opinion is that if Brummagem Sal was as +high-spirited and brawny as that lady, well, it would be folly to +aggravate them singly, much less the twain.</p> + +<p>There is one man who favours the presence of women, and that is the +true working-man, who is travelling for work, and after paying his +last few coppers for a bed, sits hungry in the lodging-house kitchen, +for he is a poor beggar indeed. As a rule the men are indifferent, +but these women always guess his secret and pity him. They watch, +and if they see no sign of food cooked, or to be cooked, it is not +long before he is asked to have a basin of broth or stew, and, if he +accepts, the other women—being now correct in their surmises—supply +him with bread. In fact, after this initial movement, he is certain +of a full stomach as long as he remains at that particular house. +Many a poor fellow would have gone supperless to bed, and begun +another weary day's march without breakfast, were it not for some +thoughtful and unselfish beggar woman in a lodging-house kitchen.</p> + +<p>Now, as I have said, five women under the influence of drink are less +likely to go quietly to bed than twenty or thirty men in the same +condition, and that is the landlord's one just objection to female +lodgers. With regard to his other objections they are of little +account; for, though these women are in the kitchen almost the whole +day, continually using the cooking utensils and the fire, do they not +wash the former and keep the latter's hearth clean? If he had all +male lodgers he would have to keep a man or woman to do these things, +or either he or his wife be kept busy; for no lodger, whether it be +man, woman, or child, can be expected to do these things themselves, +after paying for accommodation. The truth of the matter is that +these landlords are like a good many others—they want both rent and +possession; and it is the limited number of these places—especially +for families—that makes these men so independent.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, where the accommodation is outrageously bad, the woman +lodger stores her resentment until it serves her purpose, and, the +morning she is going away, she will often make an hour's delay to +tell the landlord her opinion of his place, and he never likes to +hear the truth; whereas men come and go, and are not so particular.</p> + +<p>On one occasion I had the pleasure of hearing Irish Molly speak her +mind to a landlord who begrudged coke for the kitchen fire, making it +necessary for lodgers to bring in pieces of wood, picked up in the +streets. Molly, her husband, and two children, had been here for two +weeks, and, having thoroughly begged the town and its surrounding +districts, were to seek fresh quarters on the morrow. But Molly swore +the night before that she would not leave until she told the landlord +what she thought of him. At nine o'clock on the following morning, +they were ready to leave, and in spite of the husband's hurry +to be off, Molly would not budge until she saw the lodging-house +keeper. At last that gentleman entered the kitchen, and Molly at +once rose to her feet, and set on him like a fury. For a moment the +man was astonished, and tried to pacify her, but failing to do so, +he hurriedly left the kitchen, and took refuge in his private room. +Irish Molly at once followed and, standing outside, emphasized her +words with her fists on the door. For ten minutes she hammered and +abused, and the men and women in the kitchen encouraged her with +their laughter. "I shall send for a constable," shouted the landlord +from behind the door. "Send for fifty," cried Molly. "I shall have +you locked up," he shouted. "Come out, and be knocked down," cried +she.</p> + +<p>Now it happened that Molly's husband and two children had stood +waiting at the front door all this time. More than once he had asked +her impatiently if she was coming, and at last, receiving no answer, +went away with the children. Love in Molly's bosom was stronger than +revenge, for she at once prepared to follow them. But, wishing to +give the lodging-house keeper a new specimen of her powers, she sang +him one verse of a ditty, beginning, "O, I am waiting for you, love." +After which she danced the chorus down the wooden passage, arriving +at the front door just in time to give it the final high kick.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXXIII</p> +<h2><a id="Meeting-Old-Friends">Meeting Old Friends</a></h2> + +<p>It is a great pleasure to have a sharp eye and a clear memory for +people we have met years ago, if only for a few minutes, and try to +remember the condition under which they were met. For this reason +I always enjoy a day in London, for I am sure to meet some strange +characters that surprised or amused me in days gone by. These people +do not know me. Perhaps their eyesight is not so good as mine, +or their memories are not so clear. Moreover, they do not study +character, and one man to them is much the same as another, with only +the difference of outward appearance.</p> + +<p>When I met a man the other day in Fleet Street, I touched him lightly +on the shoulder and said, "Have a drink?" "Certainly," he answered, +looking at me very hard; "but I don't remember meeting you before." +After we had drunk part of our beer, I asked him if he had read +anything of the scandal in high life, which the papers were then +making much of. Now I had only met this man once, and that had been +years before, in a common lodging-house in Blackfriars Road. On that +occasion he had laid claim in fierce tones to the very purest French +blood, and had laughed to scorn the blood of our English aristocracy. +As soon as I mentioned this scandal in English high life, the man +immediately began in his old manner to compare the blood of England +to that of France, and proved to me at once that he had the same +subject for his delight.</p> + +<p>After I left him I wandered into the Embankment Gardens, and there I +saw a very ragged man sleeping on a seat. I recognized him at once, +in spite of a great change in appearance. He was the man whom I +met at a superior lodging-house, who hid himself when a celebrated +Duchess was brought there to see the place. He told me, after she had +gone, that he had been valet to the Duke, but that the lady had never +liked him, and had at last succeeded in getting him dismissed. At +that time he looked healthy, clean, and was well dressed, but he did +not want the Duchess to see him in a lodging-house. Suppose she saw +him now, ragged, dirty, and without a house of any kind.</p> + +<p>In the same house I knew many other queer characters, whom I often +meet now. There was the man that starved on a small allowance made +by his brother, and knew so much about finance and yet could make no +money. Occasionally he received a few shillings for an article on +finance, but he had hard work to keep body and soul together.</p> + +<p>Another strange character was Darky. This man had read verses to +every one of the four hundred regular lodgers at the house, and +hardly one stranger that came there for a single night escaped +without hearing him. Seeing that every lodger in the house knew him +for a poet, I had the good sense to confide in no one; for I knew +that the dignity of a poet had suffered for all time, as far as this +house was concerned. Darky had written an ode to the man who founded +this class of lodging-house, and had received personal thanks. The +Boer War kept him busy day and night, as it also did many another +poet, but poor Darky could not make sixpence for one night's lodging. +He had also written lines on his sister's death, which I am sorry to +say he read to every stranger that would listen. He always ended by +cursing his brother-in-law, that he would not—although a successful +undertaker, that could have got the job done cheap—have the lines +engraved on the tombstone.</p> + +<p>I have also lately met the old-time actor, who used to borrow pennies +of me, and always paid them back. One night, when I was playing a +game of draughts, this old actor came and sat beside me to whisper. +"I am in great difficulty," he said hurriedly; "lend me a shilling +till to-morrow noon." Now a shilling was a large sum to me, and even +a penny was more than I could afford to lose; for a man, however +honest his intentions may be, can never be sure of paying his debts. +Seeing my thoughtful expression, he said, "You shall have my watch +and chain for security; I would rather let you have it than the +pawnshop." A watch, thought I, is worth redeeming for a shilling, +even if it is out of repair and only common metal—without a question +of the chain. I did not like anyone to see our transaction, for I +felt a shame in taking a security. In fact he was more careful than +I was. So I slipped the shilling into his hand and received in mine +something smooth, large, and round, twice the size of an ordinary +watch. This manoeuvring was done with our hands under the table, +but I took a swift glance downward to inspect the watch before +putting it into my pocket. That it had a white face I saw at once, +but what surprised me was its extraordinary lightness. However, it +was not worth while to examine it more closely, for the old actor +had now gone with the shilling, and I would not see him again till +the morrow. When I went to bed that night I examined the watch and +found it to be a most extraordinary one. It was not only common +metal, but it was all in one piece, and not one part to move; and, +to account for its very light weight, there was nothing inside it. +I have been told since that it was a property watch, which some +actors use on the stage, and was not worth twopence. This old actor +was a gambler and, fortunately for me, he had a winner the next day. +Knowing that honesty was the best policy—for he would soon want to +borrow again—he no sooner saw me than he stepped forward with great +dignity, and with a very solemn face thanked me for my kindness, paid +the shilling, and received his property.</p> + +<p>I often meet the man who has for a number of years relied on +Providence for his food and lodging. On more occasions than one I +have been an instrument in the hands of Providence in assisting this +artful hypocrite to a meal or his bed. When in the lodging-house +he is always to be seen reading the Bible, committing passages to +memory, but he enters into conversation with anyone that comes near. +Then he explains that although he has had no dinner, he has faith +in Providence to supply his supper; and though he has no money to +pay for his bed, Providence will not let him walk the streets all +night. In a large house where there are more than six hundred beds, +and strangers are coming and going every day, this man often finds a +sympathetic ear. And in the parks and gardens, and at street corners, +where he enters into conversation with strangers, he can generally +get enough to keep him independent of work.</p> + +<p>The other day I met a very small, old-fashioned looking figure +dressed in black, and with a tall silk hat which looked the worse +for wear. I was really startled when I saw this quaint, little, old +man, for I had known him in a lodging-house five years before, and +he then gave his age as ninety years. He used to sleep so sound in +the chairs that lodgers believed him to be dead, and would call the +manager. And when they had succeeded, after great difficulty, in +rousing him, he would accuse them of trying to rob him. One day he +slept so long that the porters thought that his end had come at last, +and they fetched the manager. The latter did many things to rouse +the old man, pinching, slapping, and shaking him, but all in vain. +Giving one porter orders to send for the doctor, he told the others +to carry the old man downstairs, so that the many lodgers passing to +and fro would not have their attention drawn to the dead man. Taking +the little figure in their strong arms, they carried it downstairs, +and there it remained till the doctor came. But no sooner was that +gentleman on the spot than the old man opened his eyes and, seeing +to his amaze five or six men around him, scrambled to his feet and +shouted, "Thieves!" The manager could not forgive this trick of +the dead coming to life, and sternly bade the old man to go to his +relatives, as he—the manager—had been deceived more than once.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXXIV</p> +<h2><a id="The-Comparison">The Comparison</a></h2> + +<p>The finest and most perfect piece of begging that was ever brought to +my notice was performed in Brooklyn by Boston Shorty. Such an example +in the art of begging does not deserve oblivion, so I will record it, +at the same time feeling a little jealousy, which is quite natural, +that I was not the hero on that occasion.</p> + +<p>The time was morning, and Boston Shorty felt disposed for breakfast. +Seeing a tenement house, with three storeys and a basement, he +at once entered, and, climbing the stairway to the top storey, +knocked at the door in a business-like manner—for the short one +was too proud a beggar to knock humbly at any man's door. In fact, +he knew well from experience that a business-like method was just +as likely to meet with success as to bother his brains to invent +lies. Therefore, when a stout, pleasant-looking woman answered the +door, he politely wished her good morning, and with a pleased smile +told her in a few words that he had come for a little breakfast—in +the same manner as a landlord or his agent would ask for the rent. +"Sit down," said the good woman; and Shorty at once sat down on the +stairs. In a few moments she stood before him with a plate of hot +buckwheat cakes and a large basin of coffee. After he had disposed +of these, he again knocked at the door, and returned the empty +articles, at the same time thanking the woman for her kindness. There +was nothing in this act to distinguish Shorty from a thousand other +beggars; but it chanced that after walking about for two or three +hours, he found himself at dinner-time passing the same house. Now, +no man, except a born beggar, would think of climbing the same stairs +again, with so many other houses near, for in all likelihood he would +be confronted by his former benefactress. But this Shorty did, for, +going up to the second storey of the same tenement, he knocked at the +door, which was soon answered by—the same woman! This unexpected +meeting considerably surprised the short man, and it took him so long +to recover his wits that the good woman, knowing his wants, came to +his assistance, and called indoors, "Mrs. Smith, here's a man wants +some dinner." Saying which, she smiled at Shorty and went to her own +flat above.</p> + +<p>On hearing this call, Mrs. Smith immediately came forward, and, +looking at Shorty, and being satisfied with his appearance, said, +"Come in."</p> + +<p>It was after this success that Boston Shorty, when leaving the house, +proved himself to be the born beggar that he was; for he at once +made up his mind to consult the tenant on the main floor as to the +prospects of supper. So he strayed idly about till evening, and, when +supper-time came, entered the house for the third time.</p> + +<p>Beggars have great confidence at this time of the day, for the men +are at home, and kind-hearted women often refuse beggars for the +simple reason that they are afraid of them. For this reason Shorty +felt quite relieved when the door was answered by a man, for it was +beginning to get dark, and the most kind-hearted of women are apt to +be unreasonable at that time. Shorty heard a whispered consultation +between the man and woman, which was soon followed by the man +saying, "Walk in, my man," which the latter did.</p> + +<p>The lady looked rather surprised when she saw Shorty's face. "Didn't +I see you go upstairs at noon?" she asked. "Madam," answered the +short one, not a bit abashed—"Madam, I may have done so, for the +houses hereabout are so much alike."</p> + +<p>Now, what do you think of that? Three meals in succession at one +house, and from three distinct families. That in itself was a gem of +begging, but to Shorty's eyes it still lacked perfection; for, during +supper-time, he explained his homeless condition, and requested as +another favour that they would give him an old blanket and allow him +to sleep in the basement!</p> + +<p>How it pleased my Uncle T—— to hear this, who is himself a good +beggar, but confines himself to Wales, with an occasional trip to an +adjoining county.</p> + +<p>Some years ago my family always referred to me as a second Uncle +T——. In his young days he was a roofer, but through getting so +many black eyes in taking his own part, his sight failed him so much +that he could not follow his calling. It was then that he began to +hawk laces, etc., and found the life to be more pleasant than hard +labour. He has a strong dislike to navvies, because, I suppose, they +are the hardest workers. Whenever my Uncle T—— sees a gang of +navvies at work, he feels while passing through them like a comet +through a host of stars. It has quite upset him to hear that I have +degenerated into a worker; but he is pleased to know that it is +mental work, and that I never sweat or soil my hands.</p> + +<p>It was a joy to meet him lately and hear his account of those +stirring days of 1905, during the revival in Wales, when beggars had +extraordinary success. His own success at that time almost ruined +him, all through the generosity of a lady that had been converted. +He had begged a house, and while the lady was feeding his body, +she enquired with much concern about my Uncle T—— 's soul. He +immediately took advantage of this kind question by saying: "Lady, +if there is one religious man in Wales, it is me; and yet misfortune +follows me wherever I go." The upshot of this was that the lady took +a house for my Uncle T——, and furnished it, and kept him for a +whole month in idleness, supplying him with various sums from time to +time. Then, of course, the revival burned out, and the lady began to +cool towards my Uncle T——, and he began to see, to his indignation, +that the lady began to suspect him of being an undeserving rogue; so +he sold the furniture and took a tour through Wales. This success +almost ruined him, for, after being kept so long, he found it very +hard to start business again.</p> + +<p>"America," I said to him, "is good all the year round; but it is only +during revivals that this country is of much account to a beggar." +"Hang the revivals," cried my Uncle T——; "for when they are over it +is hard to get a crust of dry bread."</p> + +<p>It was at this stage of the conversation that I related to him an +experience of mine, which happened a few weeks before. I was in the +act of washing an old shirt, not having enough money to buy a new +one, and I was not rich enough to hire a washerwoman, when a knock +came to the door, which I thought must be the midday post. I dried my +hands, and, sure enough, it was the postman, who handed me a small +dainty letter. I opened this letter at once, and the first words that +caught my eyes were—"Most Distinguished Sir," and then went on to +make a request for my autograph. The lady also enclosed a list of +fifty or sixty names of those who had obliged her, beginning with the +head of the State. That, I said to my Uncle T——, is what they call +fame in England. Now let us compare it to begging in America. If I +had been in that country, I could have begged a clean shirt in less +time than it took to wash one, and no person there would have offered +me such a ragged one.</p> + +<p>Again, as a beggar in America I have sat down to meals consisting of +turkey, sweet potatoes, mince pie, and bananas; but as a famous man +in England——"I know," interrupted my Uncle T——, whose intentions +had been to beg me, and whose hopes now vanished—"I know," said +he, "you have to put up with anything; but why? Why don't you +return to begging?" Not getting an answer to this, my Uncle T—— +looked considerably perplexed for the time, but at last his face +brightened, and he said: "Well, lad, if you are determined on the +writing business, why don't you, in the name of goodness, go in for +limericks?"</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXXV</p> +<h2><a id="The-Supper">The Supper</a></h2> + +<p>I had been thinking all day of my strange companions of the past, +both in America and England, and that accounted for my dream at +night. In that dream I had invited them all to a grand supper, for +I was now leading a different life. I was seated at the end of the +table, which was full of fine things, and Brum, of America—the +greatest beggar I had ever met—was seated at my right hand. After +making them a short speech, in which I commended them on their way +of living, and expressed deep regret that I had ever been cheated to +follow Fame, who had led me into a treacherous swamp in which I stood +up to the knees, with little power to either return or advance—after +making this short speech, I invited them to help themselves, and to +receive my undying friendship.</p> + +<p>They then began to assist themselves with a hearty goodwill, all +except Brum, who, to my surprise and confusion, sat motionless, +glancing with scorn at his companions. "There," said he, with deep +disgust; "do you call these men good beggars? See the way they +rush at the food, as though they had starved themselves all day in +anticipation of this meal." Saying this, he began slowly to feel +the lining of his coat, and, after much trouble, took out a greasy +paper parcel, placed it on his knees and began to make room for it +on the table. This being done, he spread the contents before him and +began to eat in a very slow and indifferent manner. As for myself, I +could not eat for joy, to see all these dear faces before me, and sat +smiling at one and another, laughing and sighing in turns. Sometimes +I closed my eyes, and opened them again on my companions, endeared to +me by a past that had few cares and worries.</p> + +<p>By a strange coincidence, Irish Tim of London was paired with +Oaklahoma Sam of America. Now the latter was a man of very few words, +and he always had in hand a long dangerous-looking knife, with which +he trimmed his nails, whittled sticks, or threw at cracks in the +door, flies, or any other object that caught his eye. But he never +allowed that knife to remain long out of his hand, for, if he threw +it at a door nine feet away, he was sure to recover it at one leap, +and ere it had finished trembling in the wood. When I have seen him +asleep at the cattleman's office, he always had this knife between +his teeth.</p> + +<p>As I have said, Sam was a man of few words, but on the subject of +war he was more talkative than an old man. His memory on that one +subject was extraordinary; knowing the dates of battles, the number +of their forces, names of generals and regiments, and the exact +position of their entrenchments. Tim must have unwittingly broached +this subject, for I was suddenly startled by hearing Oaklahoma Sam +say, "This is Napoleon"; at the same time down went his knife over +half an inch into the table. I had noticed from the first that Sam +had scornfully pushed aside my table knife, preferring to use his +own, although he had retained the use of my fork. Looking at once +in that direction, I saw Tim's face turned my way, with sarcasm +trembling on his lips, which only needed a little encouragement, +and he would then utter one of his scathing sentences, thinking to +blight at once the newly-opened flower of Sam's eloquence. "Don't +look that way, look at me," cried the man from Oaklahoma, placing +his left hand on Tim's shoulder, and speaking in a voice terribly +quiet and firm. "I see," answered Tim, leaning back, with his two +hands resting on the table—"I see; this is Napoleon." "Yes, and +this is Blucher," continued Sam, taking the knife out of the table, +and quickly planting it dangerously near to Tim's right hand. "And +this," cried Sam, forcing his words between his teeth, and holding +the knife suspended in the air, "is Wellington," and down it flashed +between the two big fingers of Tim's left hand. Tim grew much paler +as he removed that hand to his knee, and it was at once apparent to +me that for the rest of the evening he was a spell-bound man, afraid +to hazard even a civil question, for fear it would be misunderstood.</p> + +<p>Next to Sam and Tim sat Chicago Slim, who was relating to Bony—an +English beggar—his awful suffering for a week in the State of Utah, +where a beggar had no other food than bread and milk confronting him +on every threshold he approached, and how travelling in that part +was known to all beggars as "the bread-and-milk route." Such were +his awful sufferings, related to the sympathetic ears of Bony, who, +in exchange, mentioned his own disappointments in England, "where," +said he, "I find public-houses to be the easiest, quickest, and +most profitable places." He was just about to cite instances when +the Curly Kid, who had been listening to their conversation, asked +Chicago Slim this question: "How is it that, when I was in Utah, +the citizens did not baby <i>me</i> with bread and milk?" "Don't know," +answered Slim, disconcerted not a little. "I went to no houses, but +begged on the fly, and people had to give money or nothing. Slim, I +reckon no true beggar would allow himself to be fed day after day on +bread and milk." Chicago Slim did not answer, and at once fell in the +estimation of Bony, who now considered him to be unworthy of further +attention.</p> + +<p>"I shall never forget," said Bony to the Curly Kid, who had by his +remarks proved himself to be a beggar equal to any emergency—"I +shall never forget my disgust when, one Sunday morning, I found +myself accidentally in a town where public-houses are shut on the +Sabbath day. I had to beg of proud, neatly-dressed church-goers, for +the good-natured drinking man had not the heart to come out of doors, +and you can imagine my ill success. How I wished all these people who +were carrying Bibles and Prayer-books had bottles and jugs instead!"</p> + +<p>How the hours passed, looking on these delightful companions! The +first to leave was Tim, for Oaklahoma Sam had become personal about +his rough beard, and wanted to shave him, there and then, with his +knife; and, in fact, was sharpening it on a stone for that purpose, +which I had often seen him do before. Tim civilly but firmly refused +this kindness at Sam's hands, and, being afraid that he might be +forced to undergo such an operation, got up, and saying "Good night, +all," left the room.</p> + +<p>Others followed, one by one, and two by two, until at last I was left +alone with Brum. "Yes, and I must go too," said he; "for I intend to +call on a dentist who is good for twenty-five cents." Saying which he +also departed, leaving me standing alone, sad and motionless, at the +end of the table.</p> + +<p>"Here," said I, walking up the room, and looking affectionately at an +empty chair—"here sat Wee Scotty; here sat Monkey Jim, and there +sat Never Sweat; here sat Rags, and there sat Cinders; here sat Tim, +and there sat Oaklahoma Sam." Indeed, there could be no mistake as +to where Sam sat, for he had used his knife to such purpose, in +describing the position of Napoleon, Blucher, and Wellington, and +their rapid movements in the heat of battle, that the table-cloth was +all in rags, and that part of the table was in splinters for nearly +two feet square.</p> + +<p>I stood undecided, for I had tasted their life, and I knew that it +was after all far better than the chained life I was now leading. +In an instant I made up my mind to follow Brum, and again enjoy the +open-air camp fires, and saunterings in strange towns, and lying +under shady trees in quiet woods, beside fresh springs. But I had +scarcely moved when the room turned into a stone cell, and the wooden +door became steel, and thick iron bars crossed the window. It must +have been the strong feeling, incident to such a change, that made me +wake.</p> + +<p>I found myself sleeping alone in a small, poorly-furnished cottage, a +stranger newly arrived in a strange village; and I had to admit, as +a man in possession of all his senses, that I had far less cause to +be happy than when I was a nameless wanderer with Brum in Louisiana, +with Australian Red in Michigan, or cabined with Wee Scotty and +Oaklahoma Sam on the cattleship <i>Tritonia</i>.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXXVI</p> +<h2><a id="The-Literary-Life">The Literary Life</a></h2> + +<p>One day, when I was small, my grandmother called me to her knee, and +asked me if I knew where the White House was. No doubt I did, for I +not only knew the town well, being a truant, but the green country +for many a mile around. However, I did not know the house by name, +and shook my head, at the same time looking at her with some anxiety, +thinking that the White House was a place to whitewash the souls of +wicked boys. Then she began to describe its beautiful situation, +its numerous windows, the long drive through trees and the acres of +green land that surrounded it. Did I know it now? I should think +I did. It stood a long way back off a main road, and we truants +often passed it. And we knew the apple orchard which belonged to +that house, but was a long way from it; and it was less than a week +before my grandmother asked this question, that I and a boy called +"Trousers" had trespassed on the land, and filled our pockets and +open shirts with red apples. So, when she continued talking about +this house, I became a great deal confused, thinking that someone +had been to her making enquiries of me; and I only had one thought +to console me—"Trousers" was guilty also. My relief can be imagined +when I found that such was not the case, but that my grandmother was +thinking of her own days of childhood and, having no one else near, +could not contain herself, but must make a confidant of a thoughtless +boy, or—to use her own words—"a little black and a rodney." She +was looking at the child that was dead in her, and could not feel me +tremble at her knee, nor see my colour come and go. However, when I +began to see that she knew nothing of my doings, and began to speak +of her own childhood, I gradually became interested.</p> + +<p>The White House, it seemed, had once belonged to a relative, and my +grandmother had lived there for several months as a little girl. Now, +my grandmother was an only child, and that she was allowed out of +her mother's care for several months seemed strange. Perhaps it was +owing to domestic strife. Her mother had married a worthless fellow +who had at last drunk himself to death. So, I suppose she sent her +only child away while she took steps to get rid of him and make a +comfortable home of her own. Having a little property, and being a +woman of great spirit, she ordered him out of the house and dared +him to enter again. After which she started a small private school +and, having the rent of four little houses, lived happy with her only +child. No doubt she had come of good birth and was well educated. It +was much against her wish that her daughter married my grandfather, +in spite of his being captain of his own vessel—because of his want +of education. Nevertheless, she lived to see her daughter married to +an honest and affectionate man, even though his grammar was bad, and +his roaring voice was not ashamed of it.</p> + +<p>However, what interested me now was to hear from my grandmother that +the lady at the White House had not only been very beautiful, but had +been clever enough to write a book. As to her looks, my grandmother +said that she and her husband made such a fine pair that even people +that met them often turned and looked after them. They were both +very tall, he being six feet three inches, and she being six feet; +and they looked so stately that people made their admiration heard. +My grandmother said that they were so fond of each other that they +always walked arm-in-arm, as when lovers; and for this reason they +were admired by those who would otherwise have frowned on their rich +clothes and proud grace. But one day, when they had returned from +riding, he, in assisting her from her horse, squeezed her breast, and +this accident somehow caused her death. Such was my grandmother's +account of former occupants of the White House. When I told these +things to "Trousers," saying that we ought not to have robbed that +orchard, he claimed that we had a right to the apples, because my +grandmother used to live there. It was a great consolation to hear +this, but still, I claimed the only right, and trusted that he would +not lead others there on the sly.</p> + +<p>But what I mean to say is this—the wonderful effect it had on me, +young as I was, to hear that a relative of mine, however distant, +had written a book! My feelings will be understood by all those who +remember what books were to them as children. To children books do +not reach millions, nor thousands; and when they have a book they +think it is the first and last copy, and never dream that there +are thousands more. It would be very hard to describe a child's +opinion of a book, but there are thousands of grown people who are +as innocent of the business side of literature, and who are still +children in their knowledge of books. In fact, speaking of my own +experience, I did not know until three or four years ago but what +books must be published on their merit, and could not be published +otherwise. I did not know, what I know so well now, that any person +with money can publish a book, and that merit has little to do +with it before publication, however much it may assist it after. +Even now, speaking as the author of five books, I am still being +surprised at the business side of literature. I find that books are +pleasant things to brood on in an egg state, but that they are no +sooner hatched and begin to move than they fill one with disgust +and disappointment; and the author feels like the hen that without +knowing hatched a brood of ducklings and, to her disgust, saw them +run into the water.</p> + +<p>Even in those early days I had made up my mind to write a book, so +that it can be imagined what a sacred place the White House became to +me. Day after day I thought of the lovely tall lady; and it was not +her height, grace, or beauty, nor her wealth and social position that +were uppermost in my thoughts—but that she had written a book! Time +and again I asked my grandmother the name of it, but she could not +tell. Of course I was too young to think of enquiring the author's +name, and going to libraries, and trying to trace it that way. Very +few grown people would have had sense enough for that.</p> + +<p>Thinking of these things has led me to the contrast of literature as +it seems to the young, and what it really is to a man of experience. +You could never persuade a young man—and very few old men—that he +could be one of the best writers of the day and yet starve, had he +not the assistance of private means. "True," people say, "men of +genius have starved, but the fault was that they were not recognized +in their day." But the real truth is that a man may be so much +recognized that the world's praise of his work would make a very +large book indeed, and yet he may not have a second shirt to his +back. It would be impossible to make people believe that a man could +be so famous as to be invited to the houses of the great and yet be +so shabby in appearance that beggars meet him on the road and, taking +him for one of themselves, say, "Hallo! mate; what's yer luck?" And +that when he did meet people of consequence, he had to sneak into +back slums at night and sleep in a common lodging-house. People could +not be made to believe any of these things while a man lives, but +after he is dead they will believe anything.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXXVII</p> +<h2><a id="The-Sport-of-Fame">The Sport of Fame</a></h2> + +<p>People have professed themselves amazed at my past life, and perhaps +I can amaze them a little more by relating what great sport I and +Fame have had; how she coaxed me into making several attempts +to enrich the English language—some people think the attempts +successful—and how she served me afterwards. Other people can be +amazed at my past life, but my turn to be amazed comes now. The world +has had its revenge for the few years I made it keep me as an idler.</p> + +<p>In fact I have found Fame to be the most amusing companion I have +ever had. She has placed me in such a position that I am now regarded +as a liar, a miser, and a woman-hater. I am considered to be a liar +by those who have read so much about my work, and who at last begin +to doubt when I say that Fame in England does not pay so good as +begging in America, and that a very small income of my own supports +me. They cannot believe this to be possible after reading such noble +accounts of my work—therefore I am a liar.</p> + +<p>Again, I am regarded in the neighbourhood as a miser and a +woman-hater because I do my own cooking, washing, and housework, +when there are plenty of women around that would be glad of such +work. Of course, these things are not done thoroughly and well, or I +would have very little time to make attempts to enrich the English +language. The truth of the matter is that they are so ill done, that +I have had to write and stop several people from coming to interview +me, because of spiders that often rope me to the ceiling, Jacky +Longlegs that dance on my head, and—fleas. I am quite used to these +things now, and take little notice of them, regarding them indeed as +peculiar to the house of Fame.</p> + +<p>Again, see what fun there must be when a man, grown famous, receives +scores of letters, most of which address him as "Esquire"—"Esquire," +mark you, and living in a three-shilling-a-week cottage! How his +Majesty's proud servant in uniform must be amused at this, knowing +that a man who lives in a cottage no larger than his cannot be of +much consequence. He knows full well that innocent people far away +mistake such a man for a fine gentleman, and he is apt to laugh at +times, and in his serious moods to pity him. He has seen inside +the cottage of this man, called "Esquire," and he saw nothing but +bare walls and a few common things on the floor. If the poor man of +genius said that he had enough praise to paper his walls, he would be +laughed at for taking more pride in that than in a nice, comfortable +home; and the idiot deserves to be laughed at, and to hang his head +for shame.</p> + +<p>Nothing worse could befall a living writer than to be compared to the +mighty dead. It is most certainly a great compliment, and a great +help to a man's spirit, but the consequence is apt to be fatal to +his flesh. The mistake is that people are likely to think of him as +one dead, and, of course, dead men need no food, clothing, or rent. +Being regarded as one dead, he is naturally not thought of when there +is anything given away; and the vast multitudes of powerful English +people who are so eager to reward struggling genius—foreign or +native—must, in consequence, overlook a man so highly rated.</p> + +<p>All this is quite natural, but it is very amusing. It is very amusing +to receive by post a request for one's autograph when one is in the +act of washing a dirty pair of stockings, and lucky to have them to +wash.</p> + +<p>In spite of leading a lonely life, I do not often talk or laugh +aloud, but I did on this occasion. It was that merry kind of laugh a +man makes when he has just had a letter to say that he is ruined and +a beggar, and while he is in the act of reading it his wife comes +into the room and says, "George, I want ten pounds for a new dress." +He has read the letter, and he has heard his wife's words, and he +shrieks with merry laughter—as I did.</p> + +<p>I know well that a man of genius has shivered on a winter's night, in +a bed with insufficient clothing, in spite of using all his wearing +apparel, after having received that day a noble tribute from the +press, in which a well-known critic said he was unrivalled by his +contemporaries. That he lay all night shivering with the cold, and +expected to be poor Cock Robin before morning.</p> + +<p>True, a man's first book of poetry may run into a second edition, +but people should not write and congratulate him on his success +before they know what that means. He may have received a cheque that +never mentioned pounds, only shillings and pennies, and perhaps far +more pennies than shillings. Of course, these are the impish tricks +of Fame, and people can hardly be blamed.</p> + +<p>But the innocence of this world has often annoyed and surprised me. A +man, who knew my circumstances thoroughly, was so little astonished +to know how I could buy provisions, coal, oil, wood, clothes, +boots, etc. etc. etc., and to also answer a kind world's forced +correspondence—he, I say, was so little amazed to know how all +these things could be done on a paltry few shillings a week, that he +suggested it would save me much time and trouble to hire a woman once +a week to clean the place; and that it would only cost two or three +shillings; I did not answer him, for I was very much afraid of having +one of those merry laughing fits that have come on me so often since +I have been the companion of Fame.</p> + +<p>I shall never forget the day when I was compared to the great Daniel +Defoe. At that time I could not spare money for a pair of stockings, +so I tore an old shirt in strips and wound them round my feet, as +tramps often do. Several times I noticed that people glanced down +at the feet of the second Daniel Defoe, but I could not think how +they could possibly know of my self-made stockings. In fact Fame was +having such sport with me on this occasion that I had forgotten all +about them. The name of Daniel Defoe had had a wonderful effect on +me; it had put fire under my feet, and a steel rod in my back.</p> + +<p>While I was marching along in this stiff frame of pride, a little +girl came running forward, and said, "Please, sir, you've dropped +something." Looking on the ground I saw, to my amazement, that one +of the toe-rags, which had unwound itself, was lying in sight, but +still attached to my boot. But what amused me more was to think that +it had been trailing on the ground for a considerable time, and that +I had passed several ladies; and one of them I was beginning to be +interested in, for she had often looked at me as if she knew I was +famous. This is only one of the many funny little things that have +happened since I have been compared in England to the mighty dead, +and you can imagine my laughter.</p> + +<p>The following day a great literary paper praised my work, and said +that it deserved its success, and that no man would envy such a +writer a four-storey mansion in the West End. Alas! a few days after +this I received a letter to congratulate me on my success, which made +special mention of my four-storey mansion; whereas at the same time +I was living in a small cottage with no more furniture than a little +boy could lift, and a friend was paying my rent.</p> + +<p>Of course, we know very well that nothing can be done for genius. +Unfortunately, Nature does not mark him at birth, or we could soon +put an end to him; and not only save the State worry, but, better +still, save him from the cruel sport of Fame. If we give him twenty +pounds, what will he do with it? Will he open a fish shop or buy a +milk round? Not he; he has not the sense to do anything of the kind. +The idiot will buy books, and idle his time away at writing, and +his twenty pounds is soon gone, and the money is wasted. "But if +he enriches the English language?" one suggests. Ha! ha! tell that +nonsense to an Organized Charity, and hear their opinion. No, he had +his chance to open a fish shop and make a living, but he sat down and +idled his time away at writing.</p> + +<p>For all that we cannot allow this poor wretch to suffer; but what, +in the name of goodness, can we do? I suggest this: no sooner is +a man acclaimed as a genius, and compared to the mightiest dead, +than the State should at once supply him with a distinguishing +uniform; so that he would not only be sure of clothes, but would +also be able to command the respect of strangers, however humble his +circumstances are. Not only that, but the vast multitudes of powerful +English people who are so eager to reward genius would then have +an opportunity to recognize him in the street, and assist him with +cheques, bank-notes, etc.; which the man of genius—poet, painter, +musician, no matter what—could take with dignity, as his due, and +not be expected to demean himself by a great show of thanks. All he +would then have to do would be to walk abroad, and give his address +to such rich people as accosted him, so that they could send to his +house food ready cooked, clean bed-clothes, money for rent, and other +things.</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">XXXVIII</p> +<h2><a id="Beggars-in-the-Making">Beggars in the Making</a></h2> + +<p>I often feel upset to think that these articles on begging may rob +honest men of charity; that people will become under the impression +that beggars are born instead of made; aye, even born full-fledged, +without having had childhood or youth. I would not like people to +think that every man that knocks at their door is a professional +tramp; or every voice they hear singing in the street is that of an +impostor. It must be confessed that the latter is very probably one, +seeing that a man either has to be on the road a long time before he +takes courage to sing in public, or must be under the influence of +drink. I have seen in provincial towns as many as four men singing +together. In a case of this kind, they are almost sure to be real +out-of-works, and the reason they sing instead of beg houses is that +they cannot all four go to one house, and individually they lack +courage; but they can sing all together, each one getting courage +from the presence of his companions.</p> + +<p>People never give it a thought how difficult it is for a stranger to +get work, even where there is work in abundance. In new countries +things are different; a man is hired at once, without a question of +name and address. But in our old countries masters will not hire +strange tramps, until they are at the last extremity. I have seen, +this last summer, almost within a stone's throw of me, a farmer let +his hay be spoilt by the rain, through having insufficient labour, +and refusing to employ one or two of the many poor fellows that came +looking for work. He, and the few men he had, worked day and night, +rather than he would hire a stranger. No doubt he expected Providence +to withhold the rain for his sake, and she, kind soul, gave him more +than two weeks happy sunshine, quite sufficient if he had not been +too greedy to do as much work as possible himself, and pay away +little to others. So the rain came, and he suffered in consequence. +If people knew the number of men of this kind there are in the land, +they would not be so hasty in telling tramps that the farmers are +busy with their harvest, and are in sad need of men.</p> + +<p>Although I have met several men and women that could claim to being +born beggars, having been born of beggars on the road, yet for all +that, people must not think that this is quite common. One time I met +one of these in Bedfordshire, and he recommended me to a good row +of houses, which he advised me to call at that evening. What this +man did not know about begging was not much. After doing business +in several streets, and finding trade very quiet indeed, I made up +my mind to call at that row of small cottages on my way back to the +lodging-house. It was then almost dark, being winter, and I could +not well make out my surroundings. However, I went the whole length +of the row, and was only refused at one cottage. Two of them gave +pennies, one gave a halfpenny, one gave three farthings, and two gave +food. This was certainly not bad, in so short a time, and from such +humble dwellings, and considering the ill-luck I had had at rows and +rows of fine villas. That night, when I was in the lodging-house +kitchen, my born beggar asked me if I had called at the cottages, +and, if so, how they had treated me. "Splendid," I answered, with +a smile of gratitude, for it is not often that a beggar will give +information of this kind to a stranger. "The almshouses are always +good," he said, in a whisper. "Almshouses!" I ejaculated, with +astonishment, and a good deal of annoyance. "Yes; you will always +find them good," he continued, with the utmost unconcern, and +beginning to whistle a popular tune. This man was a born beggar, +without the least shame.</p> + +<p>But men of this kind are rare, and people must not forget that the +man who stands before them has gone through the various stages—from +a respectable working man with a home, to a man without employment, +who is looking for work; one that must either beg or starve, who +has wandered from his native town, where his friends are, to places +where cruel Rumour has said abundant work is to be had. For three or +four months he is an honest seeker of work, but after that despair +makes him indifferent. He gets disappointed so many times, running +here and there, at the recommendation of people that would do him a +kindness, and others that tell him lies to get rid of him—he gets +disappointed so often that in a short while he will not go out of his +way at all, although he says that he will do so. He soon begins to +see that there is not very great difficulty in getting enough to eat +and a few coppers for his lodging, and, of course, the consequence is +that he soon becomes contented with a beggar's lot. It will not be +long after this change of feeling that he will be heard to say in a +lodging-house kitchen, while he is drinking hot tea and eating fresh +toast—"Who's looking for work, eh? Not me!" But people must remember +that this man may come to beg them when he is in the first stage, and +desirous of work, and is therefore a well-deserving man.</p> + +<p>The fact of the matter is that no outsider can tell a beggar from an +honest seeker of work. A woman gives a man charity because he talks +nice and approaches her in a respectable manner; and she believes him +at once when he says that he has only been out of work six weeks. The +dear lady cannot see that he has not a thing on his body that was +bought by himself. His boots are two sizes too large, and have turned +up at the toes; his coat is too short, and his waistcoat is too long; +his trousers were made for a fat man; not to mention a shirt that +either cannot be buttoned at the collar, or could be buttoned around +two necks like his. Even if the lady or gentleman noted these things, +they could not read any tales in them, and it would never occur to +them to try to do so. Now, seeing that this man is so ill-fitted, it +plainly shows that all his things are begged; and seeing that clothes +last a man a considerable time, and that this beggar has nothing of +his own, is sufficient proof that he must have been on the road six +months at the least.</p> + +<p>Of course, there have been cases of men starting on the road with +good clothes and boots, which they had to sell almost at once for +food and lodging at a second-hand shop. The dealer that buys must +give these men substitutes to cover their nakedness, and these old +things would be hardly likely to fit well. This would account for the +strange appearance of a few men, but very few; for when men start on +the road they are so full of confidence in getting work soon that +they do not dress in clothes good enough to sell, but leave them at +home, or in their lodgings, to be sent for when they are settled.</p> + +<p>One way to tell a beggar who has been on the road a long time is to +employ the slang of the road, which few people can do. When a beggar +came to my door the other day, he first asked for a drink of water. +I gave him this, and had a penny ready in my hand to give him when +he returned the glass. I may as well say here that I never refuse +these men a penny, poor as I am, and whatever he is to my judgment. +If I think he is a working man, he gets the penny out of pity and +sympathy; and, if I judge him to be a real beggar, I give it to him +out of admiration. However, this man drank the water and then—not to +my surprise—asked for a mouthful of something to eat. With a smile +I gave him the penny and prepared to shut the door. But this man was +a true beggar, for getting a penny so easy, without having to talk +for it, emboldened him; so he began in a ready voice to lament his +old clothes, and to ask me if I could assist him with others. "Look +here," I said, with deliberation, and looking him straight in the +face—"Look here, matey; if I could patter as good as you I'd go on +the toe-be to-morrow." For a moment he seemed taken by surprise, and +then he drew his hand down over his face, in an attempt to wipe out +a smile; but it was of no use, for the next moment he stood grinning +from ear to ear. "I see you know the biz, gov'nor," he said, going +away; "but you know very well that sixteen farthings for the feather +takes some getting."</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="small"/> + +<p class="smallfont center">WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD.</p> +<p class="smallfont center">PRINTERS, PLYMOUTH</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">Plays by John Galsworthy</p> +<p class="h1-sim">JOY<br/> +STRIFE<br/> +THE SILVER BOX<br/> +</p> + +<p class="h3-sim">Plays by John Galsworthy</p> +<p class="smallfont center">1 vol., crown 8vo, 6s. At all Booksellers.</p> +<p class="smallfont center">SECOND IMPRESSION</p> + +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h4-sim">A NEW VOLUME</p> +<p class="h3-sim">By R. B. Cunninghame Graham</p> +<p class="h1-sim">FAITH</p> +<p class="h3-sim">By R. B. Cunninghame Graham</p> +<p class="smallfont center">Crown 8vo, 6s.</p> + +<p>"One realises that this author stands out from among his fellows, +since Stevenson died, as the embodiment of one thing in literature +... that rare thing, charm.... Full of pleasing whimsicality, of +literary distinction, of quaint ironical philosophy ... for all +readers who can appreciate literary grace and ironical humour."</p> +<p class="right"><i>Athenĉum.</i></p> + +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h3-sim">H. W. Nevinson's New Book</p> +<p class="h1-sim">ESSAYS IN FREEDOM</p> + +<p>"The author is one of our best prose writers with a magnificent +nervous force and reserve, a true and natural stylist. In each one of +these thumbnail impressions the man is reflected. That, in itself, is +a great charm. It is life, not fictitious romance, which attracts Mr. +Nevinson. He has travelled much; witnessed many things, seen men and +life in a thousand different aspects. What he says is not fiction.... +Brilliant, scholarly impressions.... Clothed in a true literary mind, +it must appeal—at once through heart and brain—to all who like the +good English word written by a man who is, in soul and blood, a true +Elizabethan."—<i>Observer.</i></p> + +<p class="smallfont center">Demy 8vo, 6s. net.</p> + +<hr class="small"/> +<p class="h3-sim">Duckworth & Co., Covent Garden, London</p> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="h2-sim">A Novel of the Open Air</p> +<p class="smallfont center">FOR THOSE TO WHOM<br/> +SUN, WIND, RAIN,<br/> +AND THE SCENT OF THE EARTH MEAN MUCH</p> + +<p class="h1-sim">THE HEART<br/> +OF A GYPSY</p> +<p class="h4-sim">A Romantic Tale of Exmoor</p> +<p class="h3-sim">By ROSAMOND NAPIER</p> +<p class="indent2">"A touching and human story."—<i>Times.</i></p> +<p class="indent2">"This clever and thoughtful book."—<i>Academy.</i></p> +<p class="indent2">"Imaginative and original work."—<i>Observer.</i></p> +<p class="indent2">"Poetic and mystic imagination."—<i>Morning Post.</i></p> +<p class="indent2">"A living and poignant piece of work."—<i>Outlook.</i></p> +<p class="indent2">"In 'The Heart of a Gypsy' Miss Napier has written a novel which +recalls the vigorous and breezy tone of R. D. Blackmore. The +dedication 'To all those to whom Sun, Wind and Rain mean much' is a +true indication of the source of the writer's power—her passion for +the life of the open air. It is the spirit of romantic youth in the +novel that claims admiration, and the deep intensity of the feeling +for nature."—<i>Nation.</i></p> + +<p class="smallfont center">CROWN 8vo. 360 PAGES. SIX SHILLINGS</p> + +<p class="center">DUCKWORTH & CO.</p> +<p class="smallfont center">3 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON, W.C.</p> +<hr class="chap"/> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="indent2">"A book which places its author in the front rank of fiction +writers."—<i>Globe.</i></p> +<p class="h3-sim">Mrs. R. S. GARNETT'S</p> +<p class="h1-sim">THE INFAMOUS<br/> +JOHN FRIEND</p> + +<p class="indent2">"A story of really remarkable excellence."—<i>Daily +Telegraph.</i></p> + +<p class="indent2">"There is passion in this story and humour. A romance of most +uncommon sincerity."—<i>Sketch.</i></p> + +<p class="indent2">"This history of the career of John Friend, a spy in the pay +of Napoleon, is a powerful one. Finely pictured. Strong and written with +conspicuous ability."—<i>Academy.</i></p> + +<p class="indent2">"Its descriptions of Brighton society when Mrs. Fitzherbert +asserted her influence are in the nature of vivid reminiscences. So far +the year has given us no novel more soundly brilliant."—<i>Dundee +Advertiser.</i></p> + +<p class="indent2">"The author deserves hearty congratulation. The book can +hardly fail to make its mark. The story is of the time of Pitt and Nelson and +of the dreaded Napoleonic invasion. The social atmosphere is very +happily indicated.... There seems something almost miraculous in this +achievement of Mrs. Garnett's."—<i>Manchester Guardian.</i></p> + +<p class="indent2">"A clever, ingenious, and convincing study of two curious +persons; of a strong man noble in impulse and destitute of general controlling +principles, and a woman bound to a man who had touched her at a +thousand points in the long alliance of marriage."—<i>Daily News.</i></p> + +<p class="smallfont center">Crown 8vo, 6s.</p> + +<p class="center">DUCKWORTH & CO.</p> +<p class="smallfont center">3 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON, W.C.</p> +<hr class="chap"/> + +<div class="section"></div> +<hr class="chap"/> +<p class="center"><b>"A real contribution to literature."</b></p> + +<p class="indent4">This is a book that deals with a real character, and is in +no sense fiction. A portrait of an old gardener who is, to lovers of the +country, the most interesting acquaintance that it is possible to +meet. The <span class="smcap">Spectator</span> says:—"He tells his story +simply, in its simple setting of garden sights and sounds, springing crops, +cloudy skies, sweltering sunshine; and his picture is of the <i>real</i> +English peasant labourer."</p> + +<p class="h1-sim">MEMOIRS OF A<br/> +SURREY LABOURER</p> +<p class="center">BEING THE LAST DAYS OF<br/> +FREDERICK BETTESWORTH</p> + +<p class="h3-sim">By George Bourne</p> + +<p class="indent4">Bettesworth, the old Surrey labourer, is typical of his +class, a type of Englishman who is becoming rare as time goes on. We hear his +natural, unconscious talk, good tempered, racy of the soil. The book +is a study, photographic in its exactness, of a national type, a +character sturdy, honest, and hard working; of simple needs and very +small earnings; one whose last days must inevitably be spent in want, +yet who is withal uncomplaining and jovial to the end.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>New and Popular Edition. 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