366 SKETCHES IN PROSE. 



I knew my interviewer was a tramp, but I pretended not. 

 When he pulled some business-like papers from his coat 

 pocket, I, in return, accused him with being a census man, a 

 book agent and a church-subscription man. But he denied 

 these impeachments. I reached hard-pan by hinting that he 

 was a lightning rod agent, his coolness and impudence so 

 amazed me. At this he laughed outright, telling me in good 

 English, for a Polander, that he had not come that low yet. 



My tramp's mouth was a broad one, and when he emitted 

 this laugh he showed his white teeth to that extent that they 

 looked as if they might be the ivory keys belonging to the 

 accordion whose bellows his wrinkled hat represented. This 

 conceit took such possession of me that I felt tempted to mash 

 down that hat to see if there was any music in his soul, but I 

 didn't, for he carried a knotty stick under his arm. 



At his earnest request I took his proffered document. It 



was about the color of a coffee-colored naturalization paper, 



but what it lacked in cleanliness it made up by unsavory 



odors. Opening it and holding it at arm's length, I read : 



" To the Benevolent : 



" This is to certify that the bearer, Signor Vermi Celli, is a 

 truthful, worthy man, but a man of misery. He is a son of 

 Italy ; a dweller in the Valley of the Po. On an island in 

 that river is his estate. During a fearful inundation, the past 

 season, the floods enveloped it, so that he and his family were 

 forced to its highest summits. In order to procure support for 

 them until the subsidence of the waters, he formed the resolu- 

 tion of swimming ashore and coming to America, where he 

 trusts the charitable w411 pity the sorrows of a poor old man 

 and give out of their abundance ; and he will ever pray, etc. 



" Signed, Signor Maca Roni." 



Having been a tramp, in a small way, once myself, I have 

 an undue amount of pity for these houseless wanderers who 

 are now devastating this country; these sturdy varlets, who, at 

 an expense to the county of a dollar and a-half a night, get 



