A VISITOR. 



447 



prove ther allegations of my worthy broth- 

 er ter be false and utterly without founda- 

 tion. Yer take up ther first charge. Under 

 this head we intend to prove ther prisoner 

 er public as well as er personal benefactor. 

 Yer Honor and gentlemen, turn yer gaze 

 on that benign countenance." (Points to 

 the Infant.) " Gaze on its broad expanse 

 of adipose tissue; think how ther succulent 

 but elusive angle worm would have preyed 

 on its rosy hues if it had not been for the 

 self-sacrifice of my client. He saw, with 

 horror, the rotundity of our skeletonized 

 friend growing larger and larger; knew 

 that at any moment nature might burst that 

 ere frail tenement and scatter that ere fairy 

 form to the 4 winds. With all the noble- 

 heartedness of that manly bosom he 

 sprang into the breach and — yer don't 

 need a microscope ter find ther Infant. 



" My learned brother accuses us of being 

 the cause of the upward tendency of our 

 most worthy Clerk's mustache. We admit 

 it. We glory in it. It's only another ex- 

 ample of how ther truly good is mistaken 

 in this degenerate and sinful world. My 

 client saw that in drinkin' coffee the hon- 

 orable gentleman's mustaches would steal 

 down his epiglottis and gently tickle his 

 thorax; that they was liable at any time to 

 cause consternation of his chest protector. 

 Ag'in my client sacrificed himself for a 

 friend, and behold his reward! Excuse me, 

 gents, while I weep. 



" But a truce to this weakness while we 

 take up the next accusation. No! No! I 

 can't, I can't gaze on that childlike sweet- 

 ness and even repeat such a monstrous 

 accusation. In reference to the abstraction 

 of shot from my most erudite brother's 

 cartridges, I can only say my client is a 

 member of the S. P. C. A., and he removed 

 the shot so that my accomplished brother 

 would not, in the wild frenzy of the hunt, 

 scare the little birds. 



" Your Honor and gentlemen, I ax you 

 as men, can you look on ther sweet purity 

 of that ere face; ther soulfulness of them 

 ere lustrous orbs, that ere wide expanse of 

 brow, shaded by them ere Sing-Sing locks, 

 and for one moment entertain a doubt of 

 their utter innocence? Can you, I ask, 

 gaze at them ruby lips, agape with thirst, 

 and not offer ther prisoner and his counsel 

 a drink? 



" Yer Honor, we'll rest our case here 

 pendin' ther drink." 



His Honor: "The pris'ner's descharged 

 and ther Camp pays ther costs. 



" Afore we dismiss this Court, we wants 

 ter say that ther pris'ner don't want to be 

 brung afore this Court ag'in, 'cause he 

 maint git off ther next time." 



" Look here, Whiskers," said Joe, " what 

 are you, anyway? " 



" Only ther Prince o' the Tin Can, trav- 

 elin' incog, fer my health. Accidentally me 

 special car war side-tracked, an' seem' the 



genial glow of yer fire, an' hearin' ther 

 sound of yer musical voices, I recognized 

 kindred sperits." 



" Yes, you got most of mine," inter- 

 rupted the Idiot. Whiskers waved his 

 hand gracefully. 



" All in the cause of humanity, my dear 

 sir." 



" Your cause has great capacity, I should 

 judge," and the Idiot gazed regretfully at 

 his flask. 



" Ah, but you must remember the Good 

 Book says ' Ho, all ye that thirsteth,' and 

 I hoed." 



" Hey, Whiskers, come here," called Old 

 Pop from the other side of the fire. " Here's 

 thet squar meal yer was wantin' to borry." 



" Now, that's suthin' like. When I gets 

 tru wid that, life'll no longer be ' an empty 

 dream.' " 



For a few minutes no one spoke, but all 

 lay back and watched the eagerness with 

 which the tramp stowed away the food, 

 while D'Auber rapidly sketched the gro- 

 tesque figure. 



" Yer'll excuse me, pard," remarked the 

 tramp, " but yer an old river man I see," 

 nodding to Pop. 



" How did yer know thet?" questioned 

 the old man in surprise. 



" Oh, lots of ways. Yer puts saleratus in 

 yer biskits. Now if yer'd use bakin' pow- 

 der, all mixed with ther flour, yer'd improve 

 yer cookin'." 



"Wal, but yer got nerve! " was all the 

 astounded Pop could say. Looking over to 

 D'Auber, who had finished his sketch. 

 Whiskers said, " Could I look at that 

 sketch, sir? " D'Auber handed it over to 

 him without a word. The tramp held it to 

 the light and examined it critically. " Ex- 

 cuse me for my persumption," he said, " but 

 you're a little faulty in your foreshortenen. 

 Allow me ter take your pencil. Now if 

 you'll notice, it only needs but this — and 

 a line here — I think we have caught the ex- 

 pression." He handed back the book. 



D'Auber looked at it a moment, then at 

 Whiskers. D'Auber rose to his feet. 



" Gentlemen, I thought I was an artist, 

 but I'm only an amateur. You, sir." he 

 turned to the tramp, " are an Artist. Allow 

 me " — and he held out his hand. Whiskers 

 gazed at him a moment, then taking off his 

 ragged tile bowed and said, 



" Thank ye, sir, but I can't take your 

 hand. I am no longer fit. You're a gentle- 

 man and I — well, I'm only er hobo — as 

 ain't fit ter shake hands with yer. An' 

 now, gentlemen," turning to the others, 

 " thankin' yer fer yer kindness I'll bid yer 

 good night." He turned to go when Ten 

 Gage, who had been staring at the tramp, 

 watching every expression of the be-whis- 

 kered face for the past to minutes without a 

 word, said suddenly, " Dol." Apparently 

 the tramp did not hear. Ten Gage took a 

 step forward and laying his hand on Whis- 



