"Well, Uncle Josh and Aunt Mary died twenty years ago, and their
children took hold. The babbling brook babbles for cash now. The green
meadows mean greenbacks. The lambkins frisk, but they frisk for the
dough. The watchdog at the gate can size up a swindler as well as a
man. The farmer holds on until he gets the highest price, and the
merchant who sells him shoddy has got to get up early in the morning.
Say, now, but I'd rather start out to beat ten men in a city than
one farmer. I'd rather be dead broke here than to have a dollar in
my pocket out in the country. If taken ill here I'm sent to a free
hospital; if taken sick in the country, the Lord help me.
"I'm not blaming the farmer in the least. For a hundred years he was
the prey for swindlers and was taken for a fool. If he's got his
eyes opened at last and is taking care of himself, and I assure you
that such is the case, then so much the better for him. It is the
dilapidated gentleman who suffers most from this change.
"Why is a sailor a sailor? Nineteen times out of twenty it is because
he wants to rove the seas. Why is a tramp a tramp? Nineteen times out
of twenty it is because he wants to rove the land. It is a nervous,
restless feeling that he cannot withstand. He wants to get somewhere,
and he is no sooner there than he wants to get somewhere else. The
majority of them are sober men. They are as honest as the average. Not
one in twenty will refuse to work for a meal or for pay. Not one in
twenty commits a crime for which he should be jailed. You can't make
statistics talk any other way. The whining, lying, vicious tramp has
his home in the city and stays there.