OUR HERO EATS THE BREAD OF CHARITY.
Bright and early, on the following morning, our two tramps deserted
the lumber-yard, and having found a pump, both performed their morning
ablutions; Ben feeling a trifle stiff in the neighborhood of the spots
where his bed rubbed him the heaviest. But relying on Tommy's assertion
that he would soon view a clean plank as a positive luxury, he made no
complaints.
"And now for breakfast!" said Tom. "Then we will start."
Never before had this matter of breakfast appeared of such magnitude
to Ben. It was as natural for him to eat breakfast of a morning as
to exist. It is so with thousands of good people. And yet there are
many persons in the world who are ofttimes compelled to look upon a
matutinal meal as an unattainable luxury, and respect it accordingly.
Tommy's cheerful invitation was somewhat reassuring, however. The two
walked on in silence until they were well out in the suburbs of the
city, when the boy turning to Ben, said:
"This will do. Now you are hungry, I'll warrant."
He did not deny the soft impeachment. Indeed his well regulated
interior had clamored loudly the previous evening at the enforced fast
imposed upon it, and was now sternly calling upon its provider to do
his duty, and his whole duty, like a man.
"Listen to me," instructed Tommy. "You are young at cadging and I will
have to give you some points."
Ben not only gave an attentive ear but he took a good look at his
companion in the broad daylight. The boy might have been fourteen or
fifteen years of age; a round, plump little fellow, with a merry face,
and sparkling, hazel eyes shaded by long, black lashes. There was
something girlish in his cheek, it was so round, and smooth, and rosy,
without the slightest sign of those capillary advantages that manhood's
prime was to decorate it with. An ungovernable mass of curly black hair
straggled from under a well worn slouch hat that had bronzed beneath
sun and storm, and become limp and shapeless in its career of pillow
and basket. When Tommy spoke his voice had a clear, silvery ring, quite
pleasant to the ear; and when he laughed he showed a dazzling set of
teeth. Such was Ben's new companion. He looked as though he might be a
good boy who would do many a bad trick.
"Listen," he said. "We must get breakfast right off. You take that side
of the street, and I'll take this. Go to the back doors and tell them
any sort of a tale that comes handy; only don't forget to say, every
time, that this is the first time you have ever had to ask for such
a thing in your life, and that you scorn to accept it as a charity,
but want to earn what you eat, and you would like to saw wood enough
for your breakfast. But before you knock be sure you look around and
see that they use coal. We have no time to fool away manufacturing
firewood. Now go on, and we will meet down at the corner of the next
block; the one that gets there first, to wait for the other."
Of all forlorn mortals, Benjamin Cleveland felt at that moment the
most forlorn. He could have charged a battery, where there was no
chance of coming back alive, cheerfully. He could have ventured any
desperate deed that required mere physical courage; but to go into a
house and beg for something to eat,--he could not! His heart jumped
to his throat with all the nervous energy that attends physical fear
in men differently constituted from our hero. Gate after gate was
passed, he persuading and promising himself that the next one should
surely be entered. Once he _did stop_ with his hand on a latch, but
chancing to look up at the house he saw a little boy eyeing him from an
upper window, and retreated completely vanquished. It required all his
stubbornness and constant thoughts of New Orleans to prevent his giving
up the projected "tramp" there and then, and acknowledging himself a
failure. What was $20,000 to such humiliation!
But another course of reasoning came to his aid: "You call it _pride_,
Ben; but are mistaken. It's lack of _nerve_, my boy," said this new
logician. "There is as much nerve required in facing humiliations as
there is in facing a battery. _More_, sometimes. _Physically_ brave
men are plentiful. It is _mental_ bravery that is lacking in you and
thousands of others. To be sure it is low. It is humiliating. It is
_begging_. You will be a beggar. But you have an object to attain, and
it can only be attained the one way. It is either do it, or surrender!"
This sophistry at last wrought so upon him that closing his eyes upon
all surroundings, he made a blind dash at a gate, and without allowing
himself time to think hurried around to the mansion's back door, at
which he was actually knocking before he fully understood himself, and
without once remembering Tommy's injunction to be careful and satisfy
himself that there was no obnoxious wood-pile in the vicinity.
A man answered his knock, and all his courage immediately oozed out.
If it had only been a woman, he thought, it would have been different.
But how could he ask a man for something to eat! He could not, and he
did not, but stammering out some irrelevant inquiry about an imaginary
Mr. Brown, he blushed and looked decidedly sheepish. The man, eyeing
him suspiciously, replied that no Mr. Brown lived there, or in that
neighborhood, and shut the door in his face.
Poor Ben made his way to the sidewalk feeling smaller than ever in his
life. Truly if the $20,000 is to be earned at this price it will be
dear enough; and he had not the heart to make another back door appeal,
but walked to the appointed rendezvous, and there awaited Tommy.
That young gentleman shortly appeared, smacking his lips, and looking
as well fed and contented as possible.
"I had a splendid breakfast! Mutton chops, hot waffles, fried potatoes,
scrambled eggs, coffee,--oh my eye, such coffee! Three cups of it! Oh!"
and Tommy, his vocabulary unable to furnish him with adjectives to do
full justice to the merits of the coffee, rolled his eyes instead,
little knowing the misery his bill of fare was giving poor empty
stomached Ben.
"What did you have, partner?"
Ben very truthfully remarked that he had had a light breakfast, indeed
not much of any thing to speak of.
"Then why don't you go into another house and keep agoing until you're
full?" asked Tommy. "Go back where I was and tell them I sent you.
There's lots left."
But this proposition was viewed unfavorably by Mr. Cleveland, who
remarked that he was not _very_ hungry, (which was false) and that he
would purchase a nickel's worth of crackers, which would fill him to
repletion.
"Do as you please," replied his companion, "but I advise you not to
spend your money foolishly. You can get all the chuck you want, by
asking for it, and can save your money for newspapers and tobacco--and
(reflectively) hair grease."
Ben persisted in the extravagance of a nickel's worth of crackers,
however, and when he had eaten them, felt much better. He also
purchased a dime's worth of tobacco, some of which he offered Tommy,
who refused the weed.
The two now took to the railroad, and late in the afternoon made a
water tank and side track below Elizabeth, where the time table "For
employees only," informed them many trains would stop to water and
pass, during the night.
On the walk down the track, Tommy had made numerous excursions to
houses along the lines for "hand-outs." He met with much success and
nearly always returned with something. Sometimes with bread, sometimes
bread and meat, and once a lot of soft rice pudding, carefully conveyed
in his hat; all of which he shared with Ben, and when they had more
than they needed, gave to other tramps whom they met. They passed
several of these gentry on their way north-east. At such a meeting, all
hands would squat on the rails and a long confab ensue. There were two
questions always asked by those they met. One was, "How's 'times' where
you fellows come from?" and the other, "How's grub on the road?" All of
them professed to be in search of work; which, no doubt, the majority
honestly were, but work is at present a very scarce article in the
United States.
These tramps either preferred walking, or had been recently "bounced"
from trains on which they were stealing rides. Hardly any took to
the country roads,--save it might have been in the vicinity of a
town,--much preferring the railroads, from which fact they have derived
the sobriquet of "cross-tie sailors." Once while Ben was sitting on a
pile of ties, awaiting Tommy's return from a foray into a neighboring
farm house, he heard his name called, and looking in the direction
of the house saw Tom vigorously beckoning him. A plump, kind faced,
motherly housewife gave him a pleasant greeting, and on a bench he saw
spread an appetizing banquet of bread, butter, milk and apple sauce, to
which his little friend was energetically devoting himself. Ben needed
no persuasion to follow his example; the good dame, meanwhile, standing
by, and condoling with them.
"I have a son at sea, myself," said she, "and Heaven watch over my
dear boy! I know not when the fierce winds may shipwreck him among
strangers. God, forbid, though. You, young men, should be thankful that
it is no worse. And don't forget to thank Him who did it for extending
his protecting hand to you."
This was all not quite so lucid as Greek to Ben, who judiciously
replied in monosyllables, as he devoured the food. On leaving, their
kind hostess presented them with a large package of bread and ham.
When they regained the track, Tommy explained that he had given the
good lady "quite a racket." The "racket" proved to be a pathetic tale
of shipwreck in which the two tramps had taken a prominent part, having
recently landed destitute in New York City, from thence they were
making their way on foot to their homes in Baltimore. While Ben could
not indorse the moral laxity embraced in the "racket," he nevertheless
admired the milk and apple sauce. The bread and ham made them a hearty
supper that afternoon, when they had taken to the seclusion of a small
grove near the tank and side track. After their repast, Ben was about
to remove his boots; for his feet were tired and badly chafed. Tommy
advised him not to, stating that it would be better to let his feet
"get used to it," and that they would "harden quicker" by allowing his
boots to remain on. He took them off, though, and both lay down for a
nap to strengthen them for the night's work.
They were soon asleep. Our hero dreamed of New Orleans and its glories.
Of bread and milk, a motherly woman and a gruff man. Of gates that
would not open, pull them ever so hard; and doors that he battered
his knuckles to pieces on without there being a response. But most he
dreamed of a pair of great, glorious, grey eyes, that, indeed, had
occupied his reflections the major portion of the day.
If Tommy's face indicated the thoughts passing through his mind, his
dreams were far from pleasant. He gritted his teeth, and clenched his
hands, and muttered hoarsely as he tossed about. Gradually he rolled
over on to Ben's outstretched arm. And the arm unconsciously closed
around him and drew him to Ben's bosom, on which pillowing his head,
the boy slept soundly.