The Autobiography of a Super-Tramp

life is not mine. We often go for days without reading matter, and we know not what the world is saying; nor what the world is doing. The beauty of nature is forever before my eyes, but I am certainly not enriching my mind, for who can contemplate nature with any profit in the presence of others. I have no leisure to make notes in hopes of future use, and am so overpacking my memory with all these scenes, that when their time comes for use, they will not then take definite shape. I must go to work for some months, so that I may live sparingly on my savings in some large city, where I can cultivate my mind.” Now, Brum’s method of begging was different in large cities from what it was in the country. In the latter he found no use for money, except for hair cutting or shaving; and when this became necessary he never failed to get the requisite amount for his purpose. When he was ready to have this office performed, it was his custom to interview the Catholic priest of the community, and beg the use of his razor, knowing it was part of that person’s creed to shave continually. Of course, the priest would not think of lending his razor to an entire stranger, but seldom refused the ten cents that were necessary for that operation. But in the large cities, Brum scorned private houses, and begged money in the streets, and in their various stores; purchased his meals at a restaurant, and paid his lodgings like an honest man. Therefore, thinking my discontent was mainly owing to the lack of funds, he said⁠—“All this haste from place to place is not at all to my liking. If you wish to settle in a large city, I can guarantee two dollars a day at the least, between us, for a visit to the theatre, music hall, for books, papers, or an occasional glass of grog.” “No, no,” I said, “we must either work or part. There are three dollars, half of my earnings, so please yourself whether we work or part, whether you go or stay; for I have already decided my own course. What is it to be?” “Well,” said he, after a long pause, “we are now near to the hop country, and they start picking sometime next week; that is about the only work to be had at this time of the year.”

Upon this we had several drinks, for I was so pleased at Brum’s decision, that I ordered drink after drink with bewildering succession. Brum informed me of a freight train that was to leave the yards at midnight, on which we could beat our way to a small town on the borders of the hop country. Not knowing what to do with ourselves until that time arrived, we continued to drink until we were not in a fit condition for this hazardous undertaking⁠—except we were fortunate to get an empty car, so as to lie down and sleep upon the journey. At last we made our way towards the yards, where we saw the men making up the train. We kept out of sight until that was done and then in the darkness Brum inspected one side of the train and I the other, in quest of an empty car. In vain we sought for that comfort. There was nothing to do but to ride the bumpers or the top of the car, exposed to the cold night air. We jumped the bumpers, the engine whistled twice, toot! toot! and we felt ourselves slowly moving out of the yards. Brum was on one car and I was on the next facing him. Never shall I forget the horrors of that ride. He had taken fast hold on the handle bar of his car, and I had done likewise with mine. We had been riding some fifteen minutes, and the train was going at its full speed when, to my horror, I saw Brum lurch forward, and then quickly pull himself straight and erect. Several times he did this, and I shouted to him. It was no use, for the man was drunk and fighting against the overpowering effects, and it was a mystery to me how he kept his hold. At last he became motionless for so long that I knew the next time he lurched forward his weight of body must break his hold, and he would fall under the wheels and be cut to pieces. I worked myself carefully towards him and woke him. Although I had great difficulty in waking him, he swore that he was not asleep. I had scarcely done this when a lantern was shown from the top of the car, and a brakesman’s voice hailed us. “Hallo, where are you two going?” “To the hop fields,” I answered. “Well,” he sneered, “I guess you won’t get to them on this train, so jump off, at once. Jump! d’ye hear?” he cried, using a great oath, as he saw we were little inclined to obey. Brum was now wide awake. “If you don’t jump at once,” shouted this irate brakesman, “you will be thrown off.” “To jump,” said Brum quietly, “will be sure death, and to be thrown off will mean no more.” “Wait until I come back,” cried the brakesman, “and we will see whether you ride this train or not,” on which he left us, making his way towards the caboose. “Now,” said Brum, “when he returns we must be on the top of the car, for he will probably bring with him a coupling pin to strike us off the bumpers, making us fall under the wheels.” We quickly clambered on top and in a few minutes could see a light approaching us, moving along the top of the cars. We were now lying flat, so that he might not see us until he stood on the same