THE AMERICAN SPORTSMAN 



JOURNAL, 



Term*, Four Dollars a Y 

 Ten Cents a Copy. 

 G months, 32 ; 3 momlii 



Year, 

 o, 91. J 



NEW YORK, THURSDAY, MAY \, 1879. 



For Forest mid Stream and Rod and Gun, 

 ROWING, 



There'B lUc and there's joy tn the rowing ; 

 Mayhap, if the breezes do blow, 

 They will help you along with their blowing, 



With all cedar wings spread from the boat, 



With muscles augmented In boating, 

 There is nothing so pleasant afloat, 



In speeding or leisurely floating. 



Percnance with a fair one to steer, 



To captivate you with her steering ; 

 To make yon confess without fear, 



The very confession you're learlng. 



To land where the great branches lean, 



While upon you yonr pilot is leaning ; 

 To further translate what yon mean, 



Tho' quickly she catches your meaning. 



To hear Ucr condole your distress, 



And tell her your life is distreesing ; 

 To ask for the word that shall bless, 



And hear her pronounce the sweet blessing. 



Ah ! then it is jolly to row, 



There's life and there's joy in the rowing ; 

 For what you are striving to know, 



There's a world of delight in the knowing. 



J. C. Burnett. 



§gown th$ 



For Forest and Stream and Hod and Gun. 



OUR voyage was made id the season for tramps. Tbatvast 

 horde of predatory beings, which for the last half decade 

 has desolated the States of the Northwest, carrying terror to 

 the hearts of defenceless women and disgust to the minds of 

 municipal authorities, was just emerging from its winter 

 lairs and entering on its annual migration northward. The 

 vast wheat fields of Northern Missouri, Illinois, Iowa and 

 Minnesota, with their numberless acres of ripening grain, 

 were calling loudly for harvesters, and in response to the call, 

 along with some hundreds, or il may be thousands, of honest 

 laborers, the roads and railroads of the four States wore 

 echoing to the tread of fifteen thousand tramps. They tell 

 me that since the panic the genuine Western tramp has 

 shoved himself Eastward until he becomes as common in the 

 Atlantic States as along the Missouri River. But I hardly 

 think the specimens scattered through the seaboard States 

 can be identical with the Western species. The conditions 

 there are not favorable to the development of such. Those 

 grand apologies for the tramp's existence— the broad wheat- 

 fields of the limestone prairies— are wanting in the East, and 

 without such an apology the tramp could hardly exist. The 

 beings dignified by that title east of Illinois are probably 

 only increased numbers of the class which has always been 

 more or less abundant there, whereas the Western species is 

 the outgrowth of the last few fears. 



I remember away hack in my boyhood's days the tramps 

 •who stopped at our country home, one of the sloping 

 gabled farm-houses of old Connecticut, fronting on the turn- 

 pike road from Boston to New York. Sometimes they 

 wanted to work for something to eat, sometimes they 

 wanted something to eat without the trouble of working for 

 it. nud sometimes they wanted money. They were of all 

 classes, too, I remember — Irish, German, Spanish and 

 French. Some were sailors who had lost a leg by falling 

 from the fore yardarm ; some were heroes of the Mexican 

 War who had lost an arm at Buena Vista ; some, more rare- 

 ly, would claim to he veterans of the war of 1813 who had 

 their eyes knocked out by cannon balls. All of them had 

 some particular object for which they were aiming, 

 most of them wishing to reach some place where they had 

 relatives. How different these homeless and usually honest 

 wanderers from our modern Western knights of the road. 

 Where the former were always alone, the latter often travel 

 in companies of hundreds at a time. While the former 

 were seeking to get home, the latter seek for nothing but 

 work, and that usually of the hardest kind— harvesting. 

 While the former were mostly honest, the latter will stand 

 as much watching as a professional thief. While the 

 former sometimes offered to saw wood for food, the man or 



woman has yet to be found who ever heard a genuine tramp 

 offer to work for anything unless a policeman's billy was 

 suspended, like the sword of Damocles, over his head. Oh, 

 yes I the tramp of the East and the tramp of the West, 

 though belonging perhaps to the same genus, are widely 

 separated species. The genuine tramp is a man whose 

 whole life is bound up in the one object of looking for work. 

 To seek employment is the end and aim of his existence. 

 If he has a trade he wants to find work at that ; if not, he 

 wants to reach the harvest fields where the best wages are 

 paid. Wherever you meet him his first inquiry always is 

 whether you know of any place where he would be likely to 

 strike a job. 



Do not mistake me and infer that the tramp is fond of 

 labor. Such an impression would be very, very erroneous. 

 He only wishes to seek for it without finding it— to make it 

 an excuse for sponging his present subsistence out of those 

 more energetic than himself. Should he be told where he 

 could certainly find employment, he would thank his in- 

 formant most profusely and— avoid the place as he would a 

 pestilence. To make him work, even at exorbitant wages, 

 would be considered by him the most galliugof all tyrannies. 

 Only last fall the Toads of Iowa were lined with tramps, 

 while the whealfields of that State were spoiling for want of 

 harvesters at two dollars per clay. And when, in response 

 to a request for food, an opportunity is offered of earning it 

 at the wood-pile, the look of disgust certain to overspread 

 his unwashed features is something "gorgeous to behold." 



I have had a Mr opportunity to become acquainted with 

 the characteristics of tramps. I have traveled in their com- 

 pany, have bunked under haymows with them, have stolen 

 rides on freight trains with them, and, indeed, on several 

 occasions I have been called a tramp myself. And though 

 to be forced to "tramp it" is a misfortune which should al- 

 ways claim a friendly hand and a kindly word, yet, when 

 the occasional tramp has hardened into the professional, all 

 the virtues will be found dried out of him, and a watchful eye 

 and a knotty woodpile should be their unfeeling reception. 



I remember once, in the early autumn of 187G, the tramps 

 were unusually numerous, and people were becoming 

 alarmed, and city authorities were in despair. I was stand- 

 ing one morning that August at the foot of the bridge span- 

 ning the river from Rock Island to Davenport, when the St. 

 Loui3 train stopped opposite and began to discbarge its con- 

 tents. It was a long train for that road, consisting of seven 

 cars, and of these live were loaded with tramps who had 

 seized the train some miles out. There were seven hundred 

 of them in all, and a rougher and more dangerous looking 

 set never swarmed out of the Parisian Fauburgs when the 

 red Bag was hoisted on the boulevards. They claimed to be 

 bound for the Iowa harvest fields, and as soon as the train 

 stopped they started across the bridge. I had a good look 

 at thein. They were stout and hearty, but seemed accli- 

 mated to dirt. Dirt was the prevailing characteristic of the 

 entire crowd. I doubt if many of them remembered the use 

 of soap and towel and comb. Some of them carried old 

 valises and others had bundles done up in dirty handker- 

 chiefs. Some had shirts of red flannel, some of white cot- 

 ton, some of caiico, most of them ragged and all of them 

 dirty. Some had shoes and some had none. Some wore 

 dilapidated straw hats, some well-worn felts, while some 

 sported ruined beavers. One peculiarity I noticed in par- 

 ticular. In the entire seven hundred I failed to note two in- 

 dividuals whose faces led me to judge they were American 

 born. They were all of that class which rises into unenvi- 

 able notoriety when labor riots spring up in large cities, and 

 forms the only element mingling in our Republican society 

 from which danger is to be apprehended, and from which, 

 in time, it is sure to come. 



During the first two weeks of our boat journey we saw 

 many of these creatures, now usually alone or in pairs, for 

 the gregarious season had not yet arrived ; but we did not 

 stop to exchange courtesies with them. We had no desire 

 to be honored with the acquaintance of the sans culottes. 

 Nevertheless we could not always avoid conversation with 

 them, and an interview with one of them, which I wrote out 

 in my journal the same day it took place, seems worthy of 

 publication, though some may think, as it has no hunting 

 nor fishing in it, it is out of place in this paper. 



We had stopped about noon opposite the city of Alton to 

 cook some coffee and eat a lunch. The spot chosen was 

 under a large oak close to the bank, where a wagon road ran 

 along the river about two rods from the water's edge. Be- 

 tween the road and the river there was no wood but the one 

 oak tree, but back of the road was a tangled thicket of oak 

 and underbrush. While we were eating a tramp came up 

 and accosted us. He was a man who might have been forty 

 years of age, but was certainly not more. He wore a 

 slouched straw hat, an old and dirty white shirt, old trowsers 

 with the legs rolled up to the knees, and around one foot 

 was a cloth bandage, and on the other a substantial moccasin 

 of dirt. He had a shovel in his hands, and, as he came up, 

 pretended to cut down an occasional weed or stub. He 

 watched us punishing coffee and crackers for a few minutes 

 and then spoke : 



"Fishing, boys? ' 



"Yes, trying to." 



"Going down the river?" 



"Yes, as far as Louisiana." 



"Well, boys, it ain't any of my business, but you're going 



into a mighty hard place. You'll find it the hardest place 

 you were ever in. I've been there. I just came from there 

 a little while ago, and I tell you times is awful. They're 

 bad enough here, but, they're wuss down there. I went 

 down with eighty-five dollars last winter, and — do you see 

 that ?" pointing with his finger to the side of his face. 



I looked, and saw a well developed cheek and a goodly 

 supply of dirt, but nothing else ; and, supposing he referred 

 to one of these, I nodded in the affirmative. 



" Well, that's what I got when they took it away from me. 



The had to knock me down with a hatchet to 



beat me, and then it took eight of 'em ; but they got it, and 

 when I came to they told me I'd better start North as soon 

 as I could ; but I didn't. I hunted around till I got work. 

 The man I worked for was a justice of the peace on the Sun- 

 flower River, and I tried to get. him to arrest the men that 

 robbed me, but he only told me I'd better mind my own 

 business." 

 "Who was it robbed you— white or black ?" 

 " Oh, it was whites what robbed me, but the niggers will 



steal everything they can lay hands on. They ain't a 



bit better nor the wdiites. Why, I worked four months for a 

 man on the Sunflower River, and when I went for my pay 

 all I got was pistols and the grand bounce pointed at my 

 head and told to git. And I got, too ! Did you hear about 

 that fight at Helena when they killed the government sur- 

 veyors ?" 



I never had, but, not wishing to appear ignorant, I again 

 nodded. 



"Well, I was there and saw that fight. The 



wouldn't let the government surveyors survey the river, 



and went out and shot 'em down like dogs. Why, I tell 

 you, boys, 1 saw 'em come out on the levee and shoot down 

 four Northern men who went down there looking for work 

 before they could get on the boat to come back North. 

 They swear they won't have a Northern man in the country 

 if they cau help it, and they shoot 'em as fast as they come 

 down there. There's been so many tramps down there late- 

 ly they've got. the Southerners mad as the devil. They shoot 

 everybody who comes down on the boats with a red shirt 

 on." 



I wore a red shirt habitually, and began to shiver inward- 

 ly, but tried not to show it. 



" There was one man — a planter — who lived near my plan- 

 tation shot a white man and a nigger one morning before 

 breakfast, and dragged 'em up close to my feDce and went 

 through their pockets and threw 'em into a hole together. 

 Ever been South?" 

 "Not along the river." 



" Well, I have, and 1 tell you it's an awful tough place. 

 They swear they'll drive out every carpet-bugger or kill 'cm. 



and they don't cafe a which. I've been all over. I 



was three years at Fort Smith. I'm the man who laid the 

 first stone for the bridge at Little Rock. I'm a stone mason 

 by trade. I helped build that railroad too, I did. I had a 

 farm once at Chetopab, Kansas, and I worked on the M. K. 

 & T. railroad when it went through there. Ever been at 

 Wilmington ?" 

 "No." 



" Well, you know where it is ?" 

 "Yes." 



"I worked there for a long time." 

 "We came from Rock Island." 



"Yes; I know where Rock Island is. I've been there. 

 I worked on the government barracks there ten years ago. 

 I'm acquainted in Davenport, too. Did you know Denny 

 O'Brien, who lived hi Davenport?" 



" No, but I've heard of him." (Be was a notorious char- 

 acter of the lowest kind, who flourished before I " went 

 West.") 



" Well, I knew Denny. I tell you Denny and I had a ter 

 rible set-to once in Davenport. I found out what Denny 

 was, ha! ha! and Denny found out what I was, too, I 

 reckon. He's dead now; he died in St. Louis." 



There was a short pause. I was getting tired, and he was 

 getting exhausted. He soonbeganagaiaonhis(apparently) 

 favorite theme : 



" Boys, you'll be mighty tired of your trip before you get 

 to Lousy-anna. Things is awful around here. Why, the 

 tramps are flocking around now. I went from Cairo to Cin- 

 cinnati, looking for work, and couldn't get it. There were 

 five hundred tramps lying along the road, and they wouldn't 

 let anybody work. Everybody was afraid of tramps, and 

 thought everybody who wanted work was a tramp. The 

 ! They'll get to a place about, two weeks be- 

 fore harvest begins, and beg around and pretend to be look- 

 ing for work ; and then, just as harvest is about to begin, 

 they skip out for somewhere else. Oh ! they're smart, I tell 

 yon. Itramped from Cincinnati to St. Louis on three meals, 

 but I never saw such times as there is now." 

 "How far is it to the Missouri River ?" 

 "About five miles; but if you're going it, you can save 

 about ten miles pulling; by going up a little shoot you'll 

 come to about a mile down." 



" Oh, we're not going up it, thank you. Where are you 

 bound?" 



"I'm going harvesting when the season begins; but I'm 

 fishing now. I manage to live, and that's about all. Got 

 any tobacco?" 

 "No j never use it, :: 



