Miss Brooks Writes About a Hobo

Well, over the Christmas holidays the past few years, Armist Brooks has been putting her time to good use, writing articles for the Western Quarterly magazine. Last year, they paid her $50 for an authentic article called The Vanishing Indian, and this year, they've agreed to pay her a hundred for one on the vanishing hobo.

And next year, if they make it 200, I'll do one on the vanishing school teacher. Oh, my gosh, my gosh, my gosh. In my late years article as authentic as possible, I decided to get my information from a genuine hobo.

So my first problem was where would I be most likely to find the biggest bum in town? I decided to try the railroad yard since my principal's office was closed for the holidays. And yesterday morning my search was rewarded.

I met a really low quacious tramp with whom I agreed to divide my fee for the article if he would supply the information I needed. As we walked back to my house, we made a very interesting couple.

Me with my new Christmas hat and coat with patch pockets, and he with his broken down derby ensues with patch pockets wherever you look. But my hobo still couldn't seem to get over his good fortune.

and you're really shelling out half a scene or just to hear me spill. Look boy lady, it sure is lucky I stumble onto you. Particularly since I just got in by lower birth from shy.

You rode from Chicago by lower birth? Yeah, all the way. Right under a Pullman car. I like Pullmans all the time. You gotta know how to use your lump of lead to land a spot like that.