They did not infest the upper part of
the State for the simple but eloquent reason that it meant starvation to
them. The farmers compelled the weary wayfarer to work all day like a
borrowed horse for a single meal at the "second table." There was no
such thing as a "hand-out," as it is known in the tramp's vocabulary. It
is not extraordinary, therefore, that tramps found the community so
unattractive that they cheerfully walked miles to avoid it. A
peculiarly well-informed vagrant once characterised the up-state farmer
as being so "close that he never shaved because it was a waste of hair."
It is hardly necessary to state, in view of the attitude of both farmer
and tramp, that the misguided vagrant who wandered that way was the
object of distinct, if not distinguished, curiosity. In the country
roads he was stared at with a malevolence that chilled his appetite, no
matter how long he had been cultivating it on barren soil. In the
streets of Tinkletown, and even at the county seat, he was an object of
such amazing concern that he slunk away in pure distress. It was indeed
an unsophisticated tramp who thought to thrive in Bramble County even
for a day and a night. In front of the general store and post-office at
Tinkletown there was a sign-post, on which Anderson Crow had painted
these words:
"No tramps or Live Stock Allowed on these Streets.
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