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He had a couple of dingy wash-boilers which he had picked up from the big garbage-dump near the race-track. Day in, day out, I spent my time with this tramp, listening to his stories of the pleasures and adventures of tramp-life. I see him still, wiping his nose on his ragged coat-sleeve as he vociferates....
"What do it matter where or 'ow we die, So long as we've our 'ealth to watch it all?" Sestina of the Tramp-Royal Perhaps the greatest charm of tramp-life is the absence of monotony. In Hobo Land the face of life is protean an ever changing phantasmagoria, where the impossible happens and the unexpected jumps out of the bushes at every turn of the road.
I nailed my few books up in a drygoods box and left them in care of Professor Langworth's housekeeper, the former having gone away to Colorado for the summer. As for clothes, tramp-life had taught me the superfluity of more than a change of shirts and b.v.d's. Bonton looked me over. "You don't look strong enough ... the work is mighty hard." "I'm pretty wiry. Try me out, that is all I ask.
For a long time I had known of John Keats, that there was such a poet. But, in the fever of my adolescence, in the ferment of my tramp-life, I had not yet procured his poetry.... Now, here were his complete works, right at hand, in one volume ... a damaged but typographically intact copy....
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