The great
Atlantic lay before me, not yet quite awake, but slowly heaving the
rhythmical expiration of slumber. There was no sail visible in the
misty horizon. There was nothing to do but to lie and stare at the
unwinking ether.
Suddenly I became aware of the strong fumes of tobacco. Turning my
head, I saw a pale blue smoke curling up from behind an adjacent
boulder. Rising, and climbing over the intermediate granite, I
came upon a little hollow, in which, comfortably extended on the
mosses and lichens, lay a powerfully-built man. He was very
ragged; he was very dirty; there was a strong suggestion about him
of his having too much hair, too much nail, too much perspiration;
too much of those superfluous excrescences and exudations that
society and civilization strive to keep under. But it was
noticeable that he had not much of anything else. It was The
Tramp.
With that swift severity with which we always visit rebuke upon the
person who happens to present any one of our vices offensively
before us, in his own person, I was deeply indignant at his
laziness.
Pages:
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211