Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 5, 2025
Now he recovered himself quickly enough to deliver a vicious whack straight at the back of the man's head a blow that would have settled the tramp's mind for some time to come, but the fellow was running so fast that Pretty missed his aim, and his stout weapon only dealt a stinging blow upon the man's left shoulder.
Woodward because of the last remark. Yet he showed no sign of resentment. "Don't you think you might be mistaken in your identification of Mr. Stumpy?" he replied, and I noticed that again he nearly stumbled in pronouncing the tramp's name. "No, sir," I replied promptly. "Remember that you saw him only by lantern light, and then but for a few minutes." "I saw him by daylight as well." "When?"
The tramp muttered and looked, not at his listeners, but away into the distance. Naive as his dreams were, they were uttered in such a genuine and heartfelt tone that it was difficult not to believe in them. The tramp's little mouth was screwed up in a smile. His eyes and little nose and his whole face were fixed and blank with blissful anticipation of happiness in the distant future.
Whether he envied the tramp's transparent happiness, or whether he felt in his heart that dreams of happiness were out of keeping with the grey fog and the dirty brown mud anyway, he looked sternly at the tramp and said: "It's all very well, to be sure, only you won't reach those plenteous regions, brother. How could you? Before you'd gone two hundred miles you'd give up your soul to God.
This was news to Racey Dawson. "How long has McFluke been runnin' a wheel?" inquired Racey. "Quite a while," was the vague reply. "A year?" "Maybe longer. I dunno." "Funny it never got round." "It was a private wheel. Only for his friends. Nothin' public about it." "Who used to play it besides you?" persisted Racey, hanging to his subject like a bull-pup to a tramp's trousers. Mr.
I stared, stupidly, at the door which had just been banged in my face. I could scarcely believe that the thing was possible. I had hardly expected to figure as a tramp; but, supposing it conceivable that I could become a tramp, that I should be refused admission to that abode of all ignominy, the tramp's ward, was to have attained a depth of misery of which never even in nightmares I had dreamed.
There was not the slightest doubt in Muller's mind that this part of the tramp's story was true, for by a natural process of elimination he knew there was nothing to be gained by inventing any such tale. Besides which the detective himself had been to look at the shed.
New York is no longer, at least when Tammany is out, a tramp's town. And that is so much gained, to us and to the tramp. We have seen that the problem of the tenement is to make homes for the people, out of it if we can, in it if we must. Now about the tenant. How much of a problem is he? And how are we to go about solving it?
"Thought you might be searching for some more money," laughed Hope. "What's in that big bag?" demanded Cherry. "Cakes!" gasped Peace, proudly. "Faith said Mrs. Waddler would be nasty if we didn't take something to eat this time, so I spent the tramp's half dollar for some of those marshmallow cakes with nuts on top.
Not the smoke of a cottage but marks where pass lives weighted down with constant care, and with little end save the sore struggle to keep the wolf from the door. Not one of these graves, save perhaps the poor friendless tramp's in the corner, but was opened and closed to the saddening of certain hearts.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking