THE TRAMP
“Oh, mother, I saw such a funny old tramp up the street,” said Stella, as she came running into the house. “The boys were calling him names. ‘Look at old red nose,’ they called. He was so angry; you ought to have seen him shake his stick at them.”
“That was very wrong—to make fun of an old man, even if he was a tramp,” replied Mrs. Clark, looking serious.
“Yes, that is what I thought, mother. He seemed so poor and old. His clothes were shabby, his shoes were full of holes, and his hat was too big for him. He had such a bristly beard and such a red nose, and was so dirty!”
“Poor old man, one can not help feeling sorry for him,” sighed Mrs. Clark.
“But what makes him so poor, mother?”
“It may be misfortune, my dear; but usually tramps will not work, nor will they stay in one place. They prefer to wander from place to place and beg for food. But come, dinner is ready.”
Just as they were seated at the table, they heard a heavy step on the back porch; and a moment later there came a rap on the kitchen door.
The little girl went to open the door. In a moment, she came running back with a frightened look on her face.
“Quick, mother,” she cried, “here is the tramp at our back door.”
“Don’t be frightened, dear. I’ll go to the door,” said Mrs. Clark.
“Please, ma’am, will you give me a bite to eat? I’m hungry. I haven’t had anything to eat to-day,” begged the tramp, touching his old battered hat.
Mrs. Clark was about to shut the door, but seeing the discouraged look in the tramp’s face, she quickly changed her mind.
“Yes, I’ll give you something,” she said. “Sit down on the porch.”
With a look of grateful relief, the tramp sank down on the step.
In a minute, Mrs. Clark brought him a big bowl of the warm soup she had prepared for dinner, and two thick slices of bread.
Clinging close to her mother, Stella watched the tramp devour the food greedily.
“My, he must have been hungry!” she thought.
After the tramp had eaten most of the food, Mrs. Clark asked, “Where is your home?”
“I have no home, lady.”
“But where do you live?”
“Oh, anywhere I happen to be.”
“Yes, but where do you sleep?”
“Sometimes in the station house; sometimes in barns; anywhere I can.”
“Where are your friends?”
“I haven’t any friends, lady, except kind-hearted people like you, who sometimes take pity on me and give me something to eat.”
“What will become of you?”
“I don’t know, lady; I don’t know, and sometimes I don’t care.”
“I do not mean to be curious, but would you mindtelling me how you came to be in such a plight?” said the kind woman.
“It is a long story,” said the tramp wearily. “I had a good home and was well brought up; but somehow I never seemed to prosper for long. I guess I was slack and careless; everything seemed to come so hard and go so easily. I worked on and off. When I got anything I ate it up, drank it up, or let it get away—didn’t know how to save—and now I am old and have no home and nobody to respect me.” A tear trickled down the old man’s red nose.
Then he stood up and handed back the empty bowl. “But I must not bother you with my troubles,” he said. “Thank you for the food and for speaking kindly to me.” With that, he tipped his hat and hobbled off.
They watched him out of the window as he went down the street. Soon they saw a police officer come around the corner.
He stopped the tramp, spoke to him, and pointed up the road leading out of town.
“What did the officer tell him, mother?” asked the little girl.
“I think he told him to move on,” replied Mrs. Clark sadly. “Come, dear, dinner will be cold.”
A few days later, Aunt Anne came from the next town to visit the family.
Stella eagerly told her about the tramp.
“Why, that must be the poor old man the police found one morning in our park. He was lying on a bench, sick; he had completely given out,” said Aunt Anne.
“What did they do with him?” asked Stella.
“They put him in the ambulance and took him off to the county poor farm.”
“The poor farm?”
“Yes, that is where tramps and shiftless people generally land.”
“Oh, how dreadful!” exclaimed the little girl. “Aunty, I don’t see why tramps don’t work?”
“Neither do I,” said Aunt Anne, shaking her head.
QUESTIONS
Why is it that no one respects a tramp?Does a man who works hard often become a tramp?Name some of the things a tramp wastes that he should save.What must we do in order to have plenty to eat and wear, and to have a comfortable home to live in?What must we do with part of the money we earn?Does a tramp ever have a bank account?Can a tramp be of help to others? Why not?
Why is it that no one respects a tramp?
Does a man who works hard often become a tramp?
Name some of the things a tramp wastes that he should save.
What must we do in order to have plenty to eat and wear, and to have a comfortable home to live in?
What must we do with part of the money we earn?
Does a tramp ever have a bank account?
Can a tramp be of help to others? Why not?
I have a gift to use,Entrusted to my care;It’s not a costly gift,And neither is it rare.It must be used at once,So quickly tell me how—You have it; I have it;Its name is—Right Now.
I have a gift to use,Entrusted to my care;It’s not a costly gift,And neither is it rare.It must be used at once,So quickly tell me how—You have it; I have it;Its name is—Right Now.
I have a gift to use,Entrusted to my care;It’s not a costly gift,And neither is it rare.
I have a gift to use,
Entrusted to my care;
It’s not a costly gift,
And neither is it rare.
It must be used at once,So quickly tell me how—You have it; I have it;Its name is—Right Now.
It must be used at once,
So quickly tell me how—
You have it; I have it;
Its name is—Right Now.