In a delayed copy of the Courant which has just arrived, I find the excellent above, which affords the good news that Hartford has at last ceased to be the Tramp’s heaven. It was time. You suggest that all citizens aid “the local organization which has been formed to systematize local charities.” If You may mean that we should aid that organization by money contributions, & you may not,—but I enclose a small one at a venture: it can do no harm, if it does no good. You suggest that “giving at doors should be denied.” There can be no question about the wisdom of that, for that is the true tramp breeder; & now that you have stopped the insane inexcusable custom of lodging & feeding mendicants at the police station without an equivalent of work, the feeding them at private houses must be the only tramp-breeder which remains to you.

Any community which will assis allow tramps to be assisted by its citizens will be sure to have a plentiful harvest of tramps; even an inconsiderate alms-giving individual, in a can have such a harvest, all to himself, in a com Ⓐemendation town where he is the only alms-giver. We have a curious proof of this fact here in Munich. You are aware that when our ingenious Massachutsetts nobleman, Count Rumford, was took high in office here under the Bavarian crown in the last quarter of the last century, he found Bavaria just what Hartford has been for years,—the Tramp’s paradise. Bavaria swarmed with beggars. Count Rumford applied the same remedy which you have lately found so effectual: he provided work suited to the feeblest, & to the strongest for all comers, & then shut square down on all forms of begging. A His system has remained in force here ever since. Therefore, for three-quarters of a century Bavaria has had the reputation of being the only country in Europe which uncursed by tramps. I have lived here two months & a half, now, & have walked a mile to my work & a mile back again, every day during that time, through a densely populated part of the city, yet I have never once been accosted by a beggar,—have never once seen a person who lookedⒶemendation like a beggar. I have Meantime, I have been visited at my lodgings only twice,—by tramps,—one an American, the other a Frenchman. Now to show what a single unwise citizen is able to accomplish in the way of collecting tramps in a land where apparently the no tramps exist, I will remark that during this same two months & a half, Madame B., a most benevolent & kind hearted German friend of ours, has received calls from over four hundred & fifty tramps! On every flat of the huge house which Madame Run to page 8½. Six tramps a day has been a low mild average in Hartford, possibly, but mind remember I am talking about a city where visible mendicants are as rare as white crows. where mendicants are a very rare sight to people who do not encourage their calls. On every flat of the huge house which Madame Run to page 9. Ⓐemendation B. lives in, there are lodgers,—individuals, cop couples, families,—but the tramps rin never venture to ring anybody’s bell but Madame B.’s. She gives them money, food, clothing, even advice. It is known that tramps post each other; I doubt if there is a tramp in this part of Europe who has not Madame B.’s address in his memorandum book. You see what one Madame B. can do; very well, you probably have not less than 250 B Madame B.’s in Hartford. You have had, anyway. The police station was one, I was another, in a small & idiotic way, & I believe I could name the other 248. I retired from the tramp-breeding business two years ago,—after the self-same tramp, in four different disguises, had called on four successive days & borrowed money of me “to get to Springfield” with,—& now you the police station has retired. I now long to hear of the retirement of the other 248. When that day comes the tramps will as soon go to any other place beginning with H as Hartford. Meaning short-syllable places beginning with H.

I wish an experienced tramp would reform; & expose the means by which tramps acquire their surprisingly minute & accurate information about the inside affairs of families. I have in mind the French tramp whom I spoke of a while ago. A young American lady who is visiting us,—I will call her Miss Jones, though that is really not her name,—goes to Madame B. every day in the week, at a certain hour, to practice this awfull language conversationally. Day before yesterday she concluded to stay at home & rest the lower part of her face. About an hour after breakfast, when I had just finished spelling out the 7½ lines of telegraphic news in the Munich paper, & had half finished finding out, from American journals a fortnight old, what had been happening in Europe about that time, that in marches this Frenchman. appeared. He was about 27, pretty fairly neatly dressed;, & had a new soft hat whose top was nattily pressed together & creased straight across, like Henry Clay’s mouth. He asked for “Mees Jones,” & Mees Jones & the rest of my tribe tried to make out what his errand might be. But no, all his odds & ends of German words only amounted to this:, after translation: “Mees Jones,—American young lady,—Madame B.,—she send me to Mees Jones,—Mees Jones go every day to Madame B., but not go to-day.”

“Very well,—but what do you want? If Madame B. sent you, she must have given you a note,—she would Ⓐemendation have given you a note. Where is it?”

“I no understand German,—no speak it.”

Then he mumbled the same stuff which he had mumbled before, with a French sentence or so to indicated that he so which signified that he very much needed money to enable him to get to Strasburg. Finally he produced a note, neatly written, in French, wherein some unknown person (possibly himself,) recommended him as a worthy & upright young fellow who wanted to get to Strasburg. Finally I interfered, & sent him away,—a thoughtless act, for I ought to have conveyed him to Madame B. & afterwards to the authorities.

We asked Madame B. about the Frenchman next day. She said he had called there about half an hour before his visit to us. Asked for Miss Jones. Madame B. told him Miss Jones was now more than half an hour overdue, & doubtless was not coming?,—was he acquainted with her? No, he had never seen her, but his mother was an old schoolmate of Miss Jones’s mother. Then he dropped comfortably into details,—the he could do this, for he was using his native language. About to this effect: He said “My his mother was born & educated in America, & went to school with Miss Jones’s mother. Said he had met the Countess G., within twenty-four hours, & through her learned of Miss Jones’s presence in Munich; Countess G. had said, “Go to Madame B. & inquire; mention my name, & say that although we have not met for twenty years, I have still the old affect Ⓐemendation esteem for her.” 〚It transpires that the Countess G. is not in Munich, & has not been for several years. Madame B. said, “The Countess B. G. has been absent from Munich several years, &, as you say, I have not seen her for twenty; I did not know she had returned.” To which the calm tramp replied, “She returned only yesterday; she promises herself the pleasure of an early call upon you.” He went on to say that the Countess G. was a friend of his mother’s, & of Miss Jones’s mother, & of Miss Jones herself,—had known Miss J. both in Europe & America, & had assured him that if he could find the young lady she would promptly assist him for his mother’s sake, & her mo sake, & for the Countess’s sake, & for God’s sake, & so on. The truth was, that Miss Jones had never heard of the Countess G. before. Madame B. was did not give him Miss Jones’s address; he did not ask for it; said he would call next day,—then he bowed himself out & marched straight to Miss Jones’s address without any further questions.

This tramp could get Miss Jones’s address, or mine, or that of any other dweller in Munich, from the police records; & he could also find out, from the same source, how old Miss Jones is, & where she where & when Miss Jones was born, & who her father was, & who her mother was, & what her religion is, & whether she owns a dog, & where she expects to go to eventually, & together with a good deal of other information about her,—for every sojourner is required to keep the police posted about himself. ;— He could find out that Miss J. went to Madame’s at a certain hour every day, by watching. He could guess that she was not going, day before yesterday, by observing that she allowed half of her customary hour to elapse without starting. But how did he find out that Madame B. & the c Countess G. had been friends in a forgotten time? That is the neat feauture of this thing. The raking up & ringing in of a countess whom Madame B. had not heard of or thought of for twenty years was a peculiarly deep & sagacious bit of diplomacy. It M Ⓐemendation made Madame B. “believe in him like a Bible.” Madame B. lives up three flights of stairs, & keeps & her sole servant speaks nothing but German. The Frenchman could get no more information out of her. than he could get out of last year’s almanac, or a dead man, or a detective, or a Munich newspaper. I mention these authorities in the diminishing ratio of what I conceive to be their excellence as fountains of intelligence. ¶

The American tramp who called on me had unwound some two-thirds of his sorrowful yarn, & I was beginning to melt around the edges, when he made a miss-play & I had him. He said an American gentleman had hired him, in Paris, to conduct him through Austria “as a sort of a currier;” and had heartlessly discharged him in Vienna because a “currier” who knew no German was of no use to him.

“Didn’t he know you couldn’t speak German when he hired you?”

“Yes, he knew it perfectly well.”

I said, “Now I’ve caught you, my lad. There is only one ass in the world who is ass enough to have hired a ‘currier’ to conduct him through a certain country while knowing that that currier did not know the language of that country. There has never been but one ass of that sort; there will never be another, for the mould

remainder of letter missing