_THE TRAMP WITH GENIUS AND WITHOUT IT_.
The tramp is as familiar a figure in the village and the surrounding
country as he is in other populous rural neighborhoods. The ruffian
tramp, of course, is the most constant of the class, but now and then
appears one of the fraternity who displays something like genius in
his attempts to impose himself upon people as a being of a higher
order than an idle, worthless vagabond. A fellow of this description
came into the editorial room of the _Patriot_ one day while I was
sitting there, and announced in a loud voice that he was a professor
of pisciculture and an aspirant for a position upon the State Fish
Commission. As the statement did not attract the attention of anybody,
he seated himself in a chair, placed his feet upon the table, and
aiming with surprising accuracy at a spittoon, said his name was
Powell. Still nobody paid any attention to him, but the fact did not
seem to depress his spirits, for he talked straight ahead fluently and
with some vehemence:
"What are they doing for the fishery interest, any way, these
commissioners? What do they know about fishing? More'n likely when
they go out they hold the hook in their hands and let the pole float
in the water. Why, one of 'em was talking with me the other day, and
says he, 'Powell, I want the Legislature to make an appropriation for
the cultivation of canned lobsters in the Susquehanna.' 'How are you
going to do it?' says I. 'Why,' says he, 'my plan is to cross the
original lobster with some good variety of tin can, breed 'em in and
in, and then feed the animal on solder and green labels.'
"Perfect ass, of course; but I let him run along, and pretty soon he
says, 'I've just bought half a barrel of salt mackerel, which I'm
going to put in the Schuylkill. My idea,' says he, 'is to breed a
mackerel that'll be all ready soaked when you catch him. The ocean
mackerel always tastes too much of the salt. What the people want is
a fish that is fresher.' And so, you know, that immortal idiot is
actually going to dump those mackerel overboard in the hope that
they'll swim about and make themselves at home. Well, if the governor
_will_ appoint such chuckle-head commissioners, what else can you
expect?
"However, I said nothing. I wasn't going to set him up in business
with my brains and experience, and so, directly, he says to me,
'Powell, I'm now engaged in transplanting some desiccated codfish into
the Schuylkill; but it scatters too much when it gets into the
water. Now, how would it do to breed the ordinary codfish with a
sausage-chopper or a mince-meat machine? Do you think a desiccated
codfish would rise to a fly, or wouldn't you have to fish for him with
a colander?' And so he kept reeling out a jackassery like that until
directly he said, 'I'll tell you, professor, what this country needs
is a fresh-water oyster. Now, it has occurred to me that maybe the
best variety to plant would be the ordinary fried oyster. It seems to
be popular, and it has the advantage of growing without a shell.
One of the other commissioners,' so this terrific blockhead said,
'insisted on trying the experiment with the oyster that produces
tripe, so's to enable the people to catch tripe and oysters when they
go a-fishing. But for my part,' says he, 'I want either the fried
oyster or the kind that grow in pie crust, like they have 'em at the
restaurants.' Actually said that.
"Well, he driveled along for a while, talking the awfulest bosh; and
pretty soon he asked me if I was fond of mock-turtle soup. Said
that the commission had discovered the feasibility of adding the
mock-turtle to the food-animals of our rivers. He allowed that he had
understood that they could be cultivated best by spawning calves'
heads on forcemeat balls, and that they were in season for the table
during the same months of the year that gravy is. And he said that a
strenuous effort ought to be made to have our rivers swarming with
this delicious fish.
"And then he talked a whole lot of delirious slush of that kind, and
about improving the tadpole crop, and so on, until I--Wh-wh-what d'you
say? Want me to take my legs off that table and quit? You don't want
to hear any more news about the fisheries? Oh, all right; there's
plenty of other papers that'll be glad to get the intelligence. Next
time you want my views about pisciculture you'll have to send for me."
Then the professor aimed again at the spittoon, missed it, rubbed the
ragged crown of his forlorn hat with his shining elbow, buttoned up
his coat over a shirt-bosom which last saw the washerwoman during the
presidency of General Harrison, and sauntered out and down stairs. The
impression that he left was that he would be more available to the
Fish Commission as bait than in any other capacity.
Upon another occasion a more forlorn and dismal vagabond, a cripple,
too, sauntered into Brown's grocery-store, where a crowd was sitting
around the stove discussing politics. Taking position upon a nail-keg,
he remarked,
"Mr. Brown, you don't want to buy a first-rate wooden leg, do you?
I've got one that I've been wearing for two or three years, and I want
to sell it. I'm hard up for money; and although I'm attached to that
leg, I'm willing to part with it so's I kin get the necessaries of
life. Legs are all well enough; they are handy to have around the
house, and all that; but a man must attend to his stomach if he has
to walk about on the small of his back. Now, I'm going to make you an
offer. That leg is Fairchild's patent; steel springs, India-rubber
joints, elastic toes and everything, and it's in better order now than
it was when I bought it. It'd be a comfort to any man. It's the most
luxurious leg I ever came across. If bliss ever kin be reached by a
man this side of the tomb, it belongs to the person that gets that leg
on and feels the consciousness creeping over his soul that it is his.
Consequently, I say that when I offer it to you I'm doing a personal
favor; and I think I see you jump at the chance and want to clinch the
bargain before I mention--you'll hardly believe it, I know--that I'll
actually knock that leg down to you at four hundred dollars. Four
hundred, did I say? I meant six hundred; but let it stand. I never
back out when I make an offer; but it's just throwing that leg
away--it is, indeed."
"But I don't want an artificial leg," said Brown.
"The beautiful thing about the limb," said the stranger, pulling up
his trousers and displaying the article, "is that it is reliable. You
kin depend on it. It's always there. Some legs that I've seen were
treacherous--most always some of the springs bursting out, or the
joints working backward, or the toes turning down and ketching in
things. Regular frauds. But it's almost pathetic the way this leg goes
on year in and year out like an old faithful friend, never knowing an
ache or a pain, no rheumatism, nor any such foolishness as that, but
always good-natured and ready to go out of its way to oblige you. A
man feels like a man when he gets such a thing under him. Talk about
your kings and emperors and millionaires, and all that sort of
nonsense! Which of 'em's got a leg like that? Which of 'em kin unscrew
his knee-pan and look at the gum thingamajigs in his calf? Which of
'em kin leave his leg down stairs in the entry on the hat-rack and go
to bed with only one cold foot? Why, it's enough to make one of them
monarchs sick to think of such a convenience. But they can't help it.
There's only one man kin buy that leg, and that's you. I want you to
have it so bad that I'll deed it to you for fifty dollars down. Awful,
isn't it? Just throwing it away; but take it, take it, if it does make
my heart bleed to see it go out of the family."
"Really, I have no use for such a thing," said Mr. Brown.
"You can't think," urged the stranger, "what a benediction a leg like
that is in a family. When you don't want to walk with it, it comes
into play for the children to ride horsey on; or you kin take it off
and stir the fire with it in a way that would depress the spirits of
a man with a real leg. It makes the most efficient potato-masher you
ever saw. Work it from the second joint and let the knee swing loose;
you kin tack carpets perfectly splendid with the heel; and when a cat
sees it coming at him from the winder, he just adjourns _sine die_
and goes down off the fence screaming. Now, you're probably afeard of
dogs. When you see one approaching, you always change your base. I
don't blame you; I used to be that way before I lost my home-made leg.
But you fix yourself with this artificial extremity, and then what do
you care for dogs? If a million of 'em come at you, what's the odds?
You merely stand still and smile, and throw out your spare leg, and
let 'em chaw, let 'em fool with that as much as they're a mind to, and
howl and carry on, for you don't care. An' that's the reason why I say
that when I reflect on how imposing you'd be as the owner of such a
leg I feel like saying that if you insist on offering only a dollar
and a half for it, why, take it; it's yours. I'm not the kinder man to
stand on trifles. I'll take it off and wrap it up in paper for you;
shall I?"
"I'm sorry," said Brown, "but the fact is I have no use for it. I've
got two good legs already. If I ever lose one, why, maybe then I'll--"
"I don't think you exactly catch my idea on the subject," said the
stranger. "Now, any man kin have a meat-and-muscle leg; they're as
common as dirt. It's disgusting how monotonous people are about such
things. But I take you for a man who wants to be original. You have
style about you. You go it alone, as it were. Now, if I had your
peculiarities, do you know what I'd do? I'd get a leg snatched off
some way, so's I could walk around on this one. Or if you hate to go
to the expense of amputation, why not get your pantaloons altered and
mount this beautiful work of art just as you stand? A centipede, a
mere ridicklous insect, has half a bushel of legs, and why can't a
man, the grandest creature on earth, own three? You go around this
community on three legs, and your fortune's made. People will go wild
over you as the three-legged grocer; the nation will glory in you;
Europe will hear of you; you will be heard of from pole to pole. It'll
build up your business. People'll flock from everywheres to see you,
and you'll make your sugar and cheese and things fairly hum. Look at
it as an advertisement! Look at it any way you please, and there's
money in it--there's glory, there's immortality. I think I see you now
moving around over this floor with your old legs working as usual, and
this one going clickety-click along with 'em, making music for you all
the time and attracting attention in a way to fill a man's heart with
rapture. Now, look at it that way; and if it strikes you, I tell you
what I'll do: I'll actually swap that imperishable leg off to you for
two pounds of water-crackers and a tin cup full of Jamaica rum. Is it
ago?"
Then Brown weighed out the crackers, gave him an awful drink of rum,
and told him if he would take them as a present and quit he would
confer a favor. And he did. After emptying the crackers in his pockets
and smacking his lips over the rum, he went to the door, and as he
opened it he said,
"Good-bye. But if you ever really do want a leg, Old Reliable is ready
for you; it's yours. I consider that you've got a mortgage on it, and
you kin foreclose at any time. I dedicate this leg to you. My will
shall mention it; and if you don't need it when I die, I'm going to
have it put in the savings' bank to draw interest until you check it
out. I'll bid you good-evening."
The tramp that has a dog to sell is a little more common than such
children of genius as the professor and the owner of the patent leg.
But I had with one of them a queer experience which may be worth
relating.
One day recently a rough-looking vagabond called at my house,
accompanied by a forlorn mongrel dog. I came out upon the porch to see
him, and he said,
"I say, pardner, I understood that you wanted to buy a watch-dog, and
I brought one around for you You never seen such a dog for watching as
this one You tell that dog to watch a thing, and bet your life he'll
sit down and watch it until he goes stone blind. Now, I'll tell you
what I'll let you have--"
I cut his remarks short at this point with the information that I
didn't want a dog, and that if I had wanted a dog nothing on earth
could induce me to accept that particular dog. So he left and went
down the street. He must have made a mistake and come in again through
the back gate, thinking it was another place, for in a few minutes the
cook said there was a man in the kitchen who wanted to see me; and
when I went down, there was the same man with the same dog. He didn't
recognize me, and as soon as I entered he remarked,
"I say, old pard, somebody was saying that you wanted to buy a
watch-dog. Now, here's a watch-dog that'd rather watch than eat any
time. Give that dog something to fasten his eye on--don't care what
it is: anything from a plug hat to a skating-rink--and there his eye
stays like it was chained with a trace-chain. Now, I'll tell you what
I'll do with--"
I suddenly informed him in a peremptory tone that nothing would induce
me to purchase a dog at that moment, and then I pushed him out and
shut the door. When he was gone, I went across the street to see
Butterwick about top-dressing my grassplot. He was out, and I sat down
on the porch chair to wait for him. A second later the proprietor of
the dog came shuffling through the gate with the dog at his heels.
When he reached the porch, he said, not recognizing me,
"I say, pardner, the man across the street there told me you wanted a
good watch-dog, and I came right over with this splendid animal. Look
at him! Never saw such an eye as that in a dog, now, did you? Well,
now, when this dog fixes that eye on anything, it remains. There it
stays. Earthquakes, or fires, or torchlight processions, or bones, or
nothing, can induce him to move. Therefore, what I say is that I offer
you that dog for--"
[Illustration: A DOG FOR SALE]
Then I got up in silence and walked deliberately out into the street,
and left the man standing there. As I reached the sidewalk I saw
Butterwick going into Col. Coffin's office. I went over after him,
while the man with the dog went in the opposite direction. Butterwick
was in the back office; and as the front room was empty, I sat down
in a chair until he got through with Coffin and came out. In a few
minutes there was a rap at the door. I said,
"Come in!"
The door slowly opened, and a dog crept in. Then the man appeared. He
didn't seem to know me. He said,
"I say, old pardy--I dunno your right name--I'm trying to sell a
watch-dog; that one there; and I thought maybe you might be hungry to
get a valuable animal who can watch the head off of any other dog in
this yer county, so I concluded to call and throw him away for the
ridic'lous sum of--"
"I wouldn't have him at any price."
"What! don't want him? Don't want a dog with an eye like a two-inch
auger, that'll sit and watch a thing for forty years if you'll tell
him to? Don't want a dog like that?"
"Certainly I don't".
"Well, this _is_ singular. There don't appear to be a demand for
watch-dogs in this place, now, does there? You're the fourth man I've
tackled about him. You really don't want him?"
"Of course not."
"Don't want any kind of a dog--not even a litter of good pups or a
poodle?"
"No, sir."
"Well, maybe you could lend me five dollars on that dog. I'll pay you
back to-morrow."
"Can't do it."
"Will you take him as a gift, and give me a chaw of terbacker?"
"I don't chew."
"Very strange," he muttered, thoughtfully. "There's no encouragement
for a man in this world. Sure you won't take him?"
"Yes, certain."
"Then, you miserable whelp, git out of here, or I'll kick the breath
out of you. Come, now, git!" And he gave the dog a kick that sent him
into the middle of the street, and then withdrew himself.
The trade in dogs certainly is not active in Millburg.