CHAPTER XXIII.
_THE TRAMP WITH GENIUS AND WITHOUT IT_.
The tramp is as familiar a figure in the village and the surroundingcountry as he is in other populous rural neighborhoods. The ruffiantramp, of course, is the most constant of the class, but now and thenappears one of the fraternity who displays something like genius inhis attempts to impose himself upon people as a being of a higherorder than an idle, worthless vagabond. A fellow of this descriptioncame into the editorial room of the _Patriot_ one day while I wassitting there, and announced in a loud voice that he was a professorof pisciculture and an aspirant for a position upon the State FishCommission. As the statement did not attract the attention of anybody,he seated himself in a chair, placed his feet upon the table, andaiming with surprising accuracy at a spittoon, said his name wasPowell. Still nobody paid any attention to him, but the fact did notseem to depress his spirits, for he talked straight ahead fluently andwith some vehemence:
"What are they doing for the fishery interest, any way, thesecommissioners? What do they know about fishing? More'n likely whenthey go out they hold the hook in their hands and let the pole floatin the water. Why, one of 'em was talking with me the other day, andsays he, 'Powell, I want the Legislature to make an appropriation forthe cultivation of canned lobsters in the Susquehanna.' 'How are yougoing to do it?' says I. 'Why,' says he, 'my plan is to cross theoriginal lobster with some good variety of tin can, breed 'em in andin, and then feed the animal on solder and green labels.'
"Perfect ass, of course; but I let him run along, and pretty soon hesays, 'I've just bought half a barrel of salt mackerel, which I'mgoing to put in the Schuylkill. My idea,' says he, 'is to breed amackerel that'll be all ready soaked when you catch him. The oceanmackerel always tastes too much of the salt. What the people want isa fish that is fresher.' And so, you know, that immortal idiot isactually going to dump those mackerel overboard in the hope thatthey'll swim about and make themselves at home. Well, if the governor_will_ appoint such chuckle-head commissioners, what else can youexpect?
"However, I said nothing. I wasn't going to set him up in businesswith my brains and experience, and so, directly, he says to me,'Powell, I'm now engaged in transplanting some desiccated codfish intothe Schuylkill; but it scatters too much when it gets into thewater. Now, how would it do to breed the ordinary codfish with asausage-chopper or a mince-meat machine? Do you think a desiccatedcodfish would rise to a fly, or wouldn't you have to fish for him witha colander?' And so he kept reeling out a jackassery like that untildirectly he said, 'I'll tell you, professor, what this country needsis a fresh-water oyster. Now, it has occurred to me that maybe thebest variety to plant would be the ordinary fried oyster. It seems tobe 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 producestripe, so's to enable the people to catch tripe and oysters when theygo a-fishing. But for my part,' says he, 'I want either the friedoyster or the kind that grow in pie crust, like they have 'em at therestaurants.' Actually said that.
"Well, he driveled along for a while, talking the awfulest bosh; andpretty soon he asked me if I was fond of mock-turtle soup. Saidthat the commission had discovered the feasibility of adding themock-turtle to the food-animals of our rivers. He allowed that he hadunderstood that they could be cultivated best by spawning calves'heads on forcemeat balls, and that they were in season for the tableduring the same months of the year that gravy is. And he said that astrenuous effort ought to be made to have our rivers swarming withthis delicious fish.
"And then he talked a whole lot of delirious slush of that kind, andabout improving the tadpole crop, and so on, until I--Wh-wh-what d'yousay? Want me to take my legs off that table and quit? You don't wantto hear any more news about the fisheries? Oh, all right; there'splenty of other papers that'll be glad to get the intelligence. Nexttime you want my views about pisciculture you'll have to send for me."
Then the professor aimed again at the spittoon, missed it, rubbed theragged crown of his forlorn hat with his shining elbow, buttoned uphis coat over a shirt-bosom which last saw the washerwoman during thepresidency of General Harrison, and sauntered out and down stairs. Theimpression that he left was that he would be more available to theFish 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 sittingaround 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 wantto sell it. I'm hard up for money; and although I'm attached to thatleg, I'm willing to part with it so's I kin get the necessaries oflife. Legs are all well enough; they are handy to have around thehouse, and all that; but a man must attend to his stomach if he hasto walk about on the small of his back. Now, I'm going to make you anoffer. That leg is Fairchild's patent; steel springs, India-rubberjoints, elastic toes and everything, and it's in better order now thanit was when I bought it. It'd be a comfort to any man. It's the mostluxurious leg I ever came across. If bliss ever kin be reached by aman this side of the tomb, it belongs to the person that gets that legon 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 personalfavor; and I think I see you jump at the chance and want to clinch thebargain before I mention--you'll hardly believe it, I know--that I'llactually knock that leg down to you at four hundred dollars. Fourhundred, did I say? I meant six hundred; but let it stand. I neverback out when I make an offer; but it's just throwing that legaway--it is, indeed."
"But I don't want an artificial leg," said Brown.
"The beautiful thing about the limb," said the stranger, pulling uphis trousers and displaying the article, "is that it is reliable. Youkin depend on it. It's always there. Some legs that I've seen weretreacherous--most always some of the springs bursting out, or thejoints working backward, or the toes turning down and ketching inthings. Regular frauds. But it's almost pathetic the way this leg goeson year in and year out like an old faithful friend, never knowing anache or a pain, no rheumatism, nor any such foolishness as that, butalways good-natured and ready to go out of its way to oblige you. Aman feels like a man when he gets such a thing under him. Talk aboutyour kings and emperors and millionaires, and all that sort ofnonsense! Which of 'em's got a leg like that? Which of 'em kin unscrewhis 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 goto bed with only one cold foot? Why, it's enough to make one of themmonarchs 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 tohave 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 makemy 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 likethat is in a family. When you don't want to walk with it, it comesinto play for the children to ride horsey on; or you kin take it offand stir the fire with it in a way that would depress the spirits ofa man with a real leg. It makes the most efficient potato-masher youever 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 catsees it coming at him from the winder, he just adjourns _sine die_and goes down off the fence screaming. Now, you're probably afeard ofdogs. When you see one approaching, you always change your base. Idon'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 doyou 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, andlet 'em chaw, let 'em fool with that as much as they're a mind to, andh
owl and carry on, for you don't care. An' that's the reason why I saythat when I reflect on how imposing you'd be as the owner of such aleg I feel like saying that if you insist on offering only a dollarand a half for it, why, take it; it's yours. I'm not the kinder man tostand 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'vegot 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 thestranger. "Now, any man kin have a meat-and-muscle leg; they're ascommon as dirt. It's disgusting how monotonous people are about suchthings. But I take you for a man who wants to be original. You havestyle about you. You go it alone, as it were. Now, if I had yourpeculiarities, do you know what I'd do? I'd get a leg snatched offsome way, so's I could walk around on this one. Or if you hate to goto the expense of amputation, why not get your pantaloons altered andmount this beautiful work of art just as you stand? A centipede, amere ridicklous insect, has half a bushel of legs, and why can't aman, the grandest creature on earth, own three? You go around thiscommunity on three legs, and your fortune's made. People will go wildover 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'llbuild up your business. People'll flock from everywheres to see you,and you'll make your sugar and cheese and things fairly hum. Look atit as an advertisement! Look at it any way you please, and there'smoney in it--there's glory, there's immortality. I think I see you nowmoving around over this floor with your old legs working as usual, andthis one going clickety-click along with 'em, making music for you allthe time and attracting attention in a way to fill a man's heart withrapture. Now, look at it that way; and if it strikes you, I tell youwhat I'll do: I'll actually swap that imperishable leg off to you fortwo pounds of water-crackers and a tin cup full of Jamaica rum. Is itago?"
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 wouldconfer a favor. And he did. After emptying the crackers in his pocketsand smacking his lips over the rum, he went to the door, and as heopened it he said,
"Good-bye. But if you ever really do want a leg, Old Reliable is readyfor you; it's yours. I consider that you've got a mortgage on it, andyou kin foreclose at any time. I dedicate this leg to you. My willshall mention it; and if you don't need it when I die, I'm going tohave it put in the savings' bank to draw interest until you check itout. I'll bid you good-evening."
The tramp that has a dog to sell is a little more common than suchchildren 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 worthrelating.
One day recently a rough-looking vagabond called at my house,accompanied by a forlorn mongrel dog. I came out upon the porch to seehim, and he said,
"I say, pardner, I understood that you wanted to buy a watch-dog, andI brought one around for you You never seen such a dog for watching asthis one You tell that dog to watch a thing, and bet your life he'llsit down and watch it until he goes stone blind. Now, I'll tell youwhat I'll let you have--"
I cut his remarks short at this point with the information that Ididn't want a dog, and that if I had wanted a dog nothing on earthcould induce me to accept that particular dog. So he left and wentdown the street. He must have made a mistake and come in again throughthe back gate, thinking it was another place, for in a few minutes thecook said there was a man in the kitchen who wanted to see me; andwhen I went down, there was the same man with the same dog. He didn'trecognize me, and as soon as I entered he remarked,
"I say, old pard, somebody was saying that you wanted to buy awatch-dog. Now, here's a watch-dog that'd rather watch than eat anytime. Give that dog something to fasten his eye on--don't care whatit is: anything from a plug hat to a skating-rink--and there his eyestays like it was chained with a trace-chain. Now, I'll tell you whatI'll do with--"
I suddenly informed him in a peremptory tone that nothing would induceme to purchase a dog at that moment, and then I pushed him out andshut the door. When he was gone, I went across the street to seeButterwick about top-dressing my grassplot. He was out, and I sat downon the porch chair to wait for him. A second later the proprietor ofthe 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 agood watch-dog, and I came right over with this splendid animal. Lookat 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 itstays. Earthquakes, or fires, or torchlight processions, or bones, ornothing, can induce him to move. Therefore, what I say is that I offeryou that dog for--"
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 sawButterwick going into Col. Coffin's office. I went over after him,while the man with the dog went in the opposite direction. Butterwickwas in the back office; and as the front room was empty, I sat downin a chair until he got through with Coffin and came out. In a fewminutes there was a rap at the door. I said,
"Come in!"
The door slowly opened, and a dog crept in. Then the man appeared. Hedidn't seem to know me. He said,
"I say, old pardy--I dunno your right name--I'm trying to sell awatch-dog; that one there; and I thought maybe you might be hungry toget a valuable animal who can watch the head off of any other dog inthis yer county, so I concluded to call and throw him away for theridic'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-inchauger, that'll sit and watch a thing for forty years if you'll tellhim to? Don't want a dog like that?"
"Certainly I don't".
"Well, this _is_ singular. There don't appear to be a demand forwatch-dogs in this place, now, does there? You're the fourth man I'vetackled 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 apoodle?"
"No, sir."
"Well, maybe you could lend me five dollars on that dog. I'll pay youback 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 encouragementfor 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 breathout of you. Come, now, git!" And he gave the dog a kick that sent himinto the middle of the street, and then withdrew himself.
The trade in dogs certainly is not active in Millburg.