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But Jerome contemplated his escape at some future day, and therefore feared that if married it might militate against it. He hoped, also, to be able to get Clotelle away too, and it was this hope that kept him from trying to escape by himself. Dante did not more love his Beatrice, Swift his Stella, Waller his Saccharissa, Goldsmith his Jessamy bride, or Bums his Mary, than did Jerome his Clotelle.
At last he found an individual who had a resort in Warren Street, which seemed an excellent venture. It was fairly well-appearing and susceptible of improvement. The owner claimed the business to be excellent, and it certainly looked so. "We deal with a very good class of people," he told Hurstwood. "Merchants, salesmen, and professionals. It's a well-dressed class. No bums.
A few there were, and they were not always to be distinguished by the kohl round their eyes, the dead white of their cheeks, the magenta of their lips, who, ignoring the "bums" and "cadets" lounging at the corners or before the saloons, directed intent long glances at every passing man who looked as if he had the "roll" to treat them handsomely in the back parlor of a saloon, or possibly stake them at a gaming table.
"Haven't you heard about it? With dynamite bums bombs. Yes, sir! That's the way they do to all princes." He was quite unconcerned. Truxton's look of horror diminished. No doubt it was a subterfuge employed to secure princely obedience, very much as the common little boy is brought to time by mention of the ubiquitous bogie man. "That's too bad," commiserated Truxton, baiting the pin once more.
And Carpenter turned his dark eyes on me. "I observe that you have many kinds of mobs in your city," he remarked. "And the police do interfere with some of them." "My Gawd!" cried T-S. "You gonna have a lot o' bums jumpin' on people ven dey try to git to dinner?" Said Carpenter: "Mr. Rosythe said that the police would not work unless they were paid. May I ask, who pays them to work here?
Since they were the same apart from the means by which they chose to fritter away their existence-the bums wanting to spend their time getting something and the workers in producing it she couldn't see any sense in feeling more abhorrence from being behind the glass than in front of it.
Then she turns up her nose because hobos and bums ain't civilized. Did you ever see a ma cat get mad because one of her kittens was born with sore eyes? I guess not. Cats has got sense. Now, what if I don't indignify myself to the extent of crawlin' under that line fence?" "'Course I'll bring you the coin in the mornin'. But if you don't go now, why, I got to quit this job.
It's a disgrace not to do something, isn't it?" "Oh, my business! I'm a river-driver just now." "A river-driver?" she repeated, once more leaning forward. "Why, I've just been hearing a great deal about you." "That so?" he inquired. "Yes, from Mrs. Baggs." "Oh!" said Orde. "Then you know what a drunken, swearing, worthless lot of bums and toughs we are, don't you?"
What, for you to insult your ole pal again by tellin' him he might drink all the water in this here spring, mebby, or inflooence the morals of the cattle, or steal the wire off the fence? Huh! I thought I was your pal?" "Oh, Red, quit kiddin'. Don't you see I got orders? I got orders." "You're gettin' civilized fast, all right. The first thing civilization does is to projooce hobos and bums.
A street speaker must be interesting or he will lose his crowd, and the better his crowd the sooner he will lose it. If he is talking to "bums" they will stay whether he talks or not, but if he has an audience of people who have other things awaiting their attention they will pass on the moment the speaker loses his grip.
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