I read Josephus entirely through, haltingly, line by line, in the Greek.
I read all the books the "stack" at the university could afford me on
New Testament life and times, in preparation for my play on Judas.
My only companions were a flock of tiny mud-hens with their dainty proud
little rooster. I heard them talking in bird-language, saw them paddling
with diminutive gravity up and down in the mud, on the island mud-bank
just beneath the high place on which my tent was pitched.
When I grew lonesome for company, human company, I swam ashore, my
clothes tied on top of my head to keep them dry, and, dressing, walked
into Laurel. Where I lounged about for the day on the streets, or in the
stores, or in the livery stables ... I knew everybody and everybody knew
me, and we had some fine times, talking.
I had access to the local Carnegie Library as well as to the university
"stack".
My food did not cost me above a dollar a week. For I went on a whole
wheat diet, and threw my frying pan away.
I was the tramp, as ever, only I was stationary.
* * * * *
The opening days of the fall term came round again. Summer weather, hot
and belated, lingered on. I was now more native to the river than to
life in a four-walled room and on street pavements.
I debated seriously whether I should return to classes, or just keep on
studying as I was, staying in my tent, and taking books out at the two
libraries.
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