His commercial instinct, however, together with the wide system of charity which the Jews maintain in every city where they are found, soon enables him to get out of the hobo class. He becomes a trader of some sort and soon leaves the barrel house and his hobo companions behind him. TALKS OF THE TRAMP--WHY DILAPIDATED GENTLEMAN DOES NOT GIVE UP WANDERING AND SETTLE DOWN--LIKES THE CARE-FREE LIFE--MINGLES AMONG THE PEOPLE AND GETS TO KNOW THEM WELL--CHANGES IN COMMUNITY. "Why don't I give it up and settle down in city or village and become a respectable member of the community?" echoed the dilapidated gentleman as he pocketed his usual fee. "I have been asked that question a thousand times, it seems to me, and my answer has always been the same. I tramp as a profession, and I stand at the head of it. I like it. There's a good living in it. I come in contact with human nature at every turn. I am respectable as it is. The cities and villages are overcrowded, and the man who butts in has little chance of success. I have less to worry about and sleep more soundly than any business man in America. You newspaper fellers think you know it all, but you'd take a drop to yourselves if you were on the tramp for a month. You'd see more human nature with the bark on in that time than you can find on the East Side in New York in five years. "Say, now," continued the man, "can you name me one single newspaper in the state of New York that felt sure of Roosevelt's election as governor? No, you can't. I hit his majority within 2,000. Why? Because I was among the people and knew how they talked. Plenty of politicians and newspapers said he'd be elected as president when he ran, but no man or no newspaper came within a thousand miles of the popular majority. I don't say that I hit it, but I could have given pointers to a hundred editors. [Illustration: SHOWING A "MEMBER" GETTING INTO THE FIGHT LAST NIGHT. Roaming Rowley--"I've just gotter break inter that nice, warm jail fer de winter. Here goes dat old shell I found on de battlefield." (Bang! Flash! Boom!) "Yes, Mr. Sheriff, it wus me did it! I'm a desprit dynamiter and jail bird." Sheriff--"Git out of this township, quick! I won't have you blowin' up my nice, clean jail! Gwan, git!"] GET OUT AMONG THE PEOPLE.