CHAPTER XXIII.
_THE TRAMP WITH GENIUS AND WITHOUT IT_.
The tramp is as familiar a figure in the village and the surrounding country as he is in other populous rural neighborhoods.

The ruffian tramp, of course, is the most constant of the class, but now and then appears one of the fraternity who displays something like genius in his attempts to impose himself upon people as a being of a higher order than an idle, worthless vagabond.

A fellow of this description came into the editorial room of the _Patriot_ one day while I was sitting there, and announced in a loud voice that he was a professor of pisciculture and an aspirant for a position upon the State Fish Commission.

As the statement did not attract the attention of anybody, he seated himself in a chair, placed his feet upon the table, and aiming with surprising accuracy at a spittoon, said his name was Powell.

Still nobody paid any attention to him, but the fact did not seem to depress his spirits, for he talked straight ahead fluently and with some vehemence: "What are they doing for the fishery interest, any way, these commissioners?
What do they know about fishing?
More'n likely when they go out they hold the hook in their hands and let the pole float in the water.