The Autobiography of a Super-TrampDavies, W. H. (William Henry)
General
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
Shipping, Red explained to me on the following day, was rather slow
for experienced hands. He had been begging Baltimore for more than six
weeks, and was still without prospect of making a trip. He explained
that he could go at any time for a pound, and had had a chance or two
to go for thirty shillings, but very few two-pound men had been called
for during the last three months. "Are you going out for breakfast?"
he asked. "If you have any more money left, don't be foolish enough to
spend it on food, for I can get you more than you want of that, and
the money can be used for pleasure." "You already know that I have no
more money," I said to him, feeling myself change colour with guilt,
which he did not notice. "Wait here till I return," he said. "If you
don't feel inclined to beg, for a day or two, you need have no fear of
starving." He then left me, and, after he had gone, I followed, and
feeling guilty and ashamed, turned into a restaurant for breakfast.
Later on, when I returned to the office, Red was waiting for me with
an abundance of food, for he had made extra exertion on this
particular morning. "Come," he said, "you must be hungry by this
time." Knowing that I had this part to keep up, I sat down, but after
slowly eating a morsel or two, which had been difficult to swallow, I
found it necessary to plead a full stomach. Red was persistent, and so
dissatisfied at this that I could not help but feel grateful for such
kindness, and, feeling more shame than ever at playing such a part, I
arose, telling him I would wait for him outside the office. He soon
followed, and, leading the way to another part of the city, I
commenced with him a spree that ended in a week's debauchery. Both of
us then being penniless, we returned to the cattleman's office, to
find that a good chance had been lost in our absence, when the shipper
had enquired for us.
"What," cried Red, "go home for good next trip, eh? Why, you are
cursed, like myself, by restlessness, and, mark me, you will not
remain six months in your native town." "Perhaps not," I said, "but I
assure you, that neither this town, nor this country, shall again feel
my tread!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account