"Let us hope so, for his sake anyhow," was the daughter's rather
doubtful comment. Before leaving, the mother was rather insistent on my
calling at the office of a local lawyer who was reported to be "much
interested in young men, and their welfare." I promised to look him up,
but somehow his time and mine did not agree--he was not at his
office--and perhaps I lost another chance to be a legal light. As the
weeks and months went by, the dream of "self-madeness," as I once heard
a tramp describe it, became less and less oppressive; at any rate, I
noticed that merely because a town or village harbored an academy and
college, and possibly a philanthropic lawyer, did not suffice to tempt
me out of the box-car rolling through the locality. Nothing else in
particular had come to take its place, that I recall. But certain it is
that the box-car, on a bright, sunny day, rolling along, clinkety-clink,
chunkety-chunk, possessed temporary attractions which dreamy
self-madeness could not offer. This particular time in my wanderings
probably saw the height of the railroad fever in me. It burned and
sizzled it almost seemed on occasions, and the distant whistle of a
"freight" going my way, or any way, for that matter, became as sweet a
sound as was ever the dinner call or the recess bell. To-day I can laugh
at all this, but it was a very serious matter in those days; unless I
covered a certain number of miles each day or week, and saw so many
different States, cities, rivers and kinds of people, I was
disappointed--Hoboland was not giving me my share of her bounteous
supply of fun and change. Of course, I was called "railroad crazy" by
the quieter roadsters in whom the fever, as such, had long since
subsided, but I did not mind. Farther, farther, _farther_! This was what
I insisted on and got. In the end I had seen a great deal, of course,
but altogether too much of it only superficially. Later tramp trips,
undertaken with a serious purpose and confined to narrower limits, have
netted me much more lasting information and amusement.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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