The Autobiography of a Super-TrampDavies, W. H. (William Henry)
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The Autobiography of a Super-Tramp
Davies, W. H. (William Henry)
Davies, W. H. (William Henry), 1871-1940; Poets, English -- 20th century -- Biography; Tramps -- Biography
Alas, what a disastrous end was ours! When we reached the town of New
Haven, we began to beg from passersby in the open streets and in less
than an hour were in jail. On being brought up next morning before the
judge, we were each sentenced to thirty days. But what hurt our
feelings most was the personal comment of the judge--that we were two
brawny scoundrels who would not work if we had the chance. However
true this might be as applied to us in a moral sense, it certainly was
not a literal fact, for we were both small men. People who, not seeing
us, would read this remark in the local paper, would be misled as to
our personal appearance. I am doubtful whether any Judge is justified
in using such a term. At any rate, thirty days had to be served.
We were in a far better position than an Italian who was waiting to be
tried for murder, and whose cell was not far distant from ours.
At this jail we had to perform the light labour of caning chairs, and
were well treated in the way of food and sleeping accommodation and,
in addition, received a liberal supply of chewing tobacco.
Being interested in the Italian, the first thing we did on regaining
our liberty was to enquire as to his fate. We were told that he had
received a life sentence; or, as our alien informant strangely
expressed it--"Antonia, he didn't get some of de time, but he got all
of de time."
Thus what promised to be a summer's outing full of enjoyment, came to
a disastrous close sooner than we expected. And, when we were again
free, the summer season was practically over, the visitors were
gradually leaving for their town houses; which meant that our
treatment at the boarding houses would become colder and colder in
accordance with the number of boarders.
At this time I accepted employment as a woodchopper, but unfortunately
the work did not last; and just as I began to feel the inclination for
this more respectable life, I was discharged, much to Brum's delight,
who was apparently disgusted with this new innovation called work, and
could not understand any man's desire for it.
CHAPTER VI
A NIGHT'S RIDE
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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