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-- OR -- Frank Moulton, prospector, traveller, and man of leisure, can also be seen in these previous issues of Electro-Graphic Monthly courtesy of his literary agent Brad Keefauver: |
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Letter From Frank Moulton The Dark
Lantern League Clubrooms Dear League amigos, It may just be that a transplanted American shouldn’t have too much to say about the poor folk of this big old town. Minding my own business always has proved a safe course, let me tell you. But here among the confines of the Dark Lantern League club-rooms, with a nice tumbler of good liquor in hand, well . . . I suppose it can’t hurt to spill a few words of opinion. Yeah, and I seem to remember hearing enough from many an Englishman, Irishman, or Scot when I was working the gold-fields back home, I suppose. Might as well return the favor over here, just to balance out the Trans-Atlantic Trade in Hot Air. When I think back to the places I’ve been and the people I’ve known, it seems to me that a fellow tends to meet beggarly folk in places where other people have money. In places where everyone is scrapping to pull a living together, everyone knows what their neighbor had to do to get bread on the table and isn’t as inclined to ask for it for free. That’s not to say that there isn’t charity among the working folk, or the tribes that live off the land. You just don’t have those who make such a speciality of asking for the help of others. Maybe that’s what it is. In a harder town you’ll find cooks, but no bakers who do naught but bake. It’s the big city that breeds the specialist, in any occupation you would care to name, from hat-making to detective-work. I reckon that the beggar is just another specialist, plying his trade. Some are probably more skilled than others, like any occupation. While I’m not sure if it’s a respectable trade, I wouldn’t rush to put on airs around a professional beggar. One of the high-falutin’est nabobs I ever had the uncertain pleasure of meeting was just a beggar deep down. Many a high-titled Englishman spends his last borrowed sum to take a boat to America and find him a wealthy wife to keep his high life at the level he’s accustomed to. Is that an even more specialized form of begging, going for the one big beg instead of the daily routine of panhandling? Could be that the titled sorts are just the most skilled at that trade! But I forget myself, and don’t want to get into trouble with any of our more socially prominent members. Times get rough for all of us now and then, and we do what we have to. Me, I’ve been lucky. Lucky enough that I don’t mind flipping a shilling some street urchin’s way, especially when I’m just riding by in a hansom cab and they’ll never see my face. I’ve had pennies fall from heaven upon me on occasion, and let me tell you -- if they don’t hit you in the eye, they’re plenty welcome. I guess that’s all I’ve got to say about that. I’ll be interested to hear what my fellow Leaguers have to say about it all. Vaya con dios, Frank Moulton |
