d the waste-heaps of the mills and factories
seeing what can be done with their junk, he pokes around in the
social waste-heap trying to find out if its contents can't be
converted into something useful. One might call him a social
engineer; though as a rule men of original and new ideas are usually
called nuts. But be that as it may, I note that Stevenson, Bell,
Morse, Edison, and a whole list of folks who have done useful things,
were at one time classed as being a bit odd but harmless.

As there are no personal dividends in the way of kale coming to any
one who tries to convert the social waste-heap into something useful,
the average stiff can't understand why a guy with a bean on him like
Osborne should want to waste his good time monkeying with it, when
he might be more socially useful by inventing a new tango step.

You see, Tom, society is so constituted at present that it can't
understand why any man should want to do something that will bring
him no financial returns; and yet this self-same society, that does
all of its reasoning on a dollar and cents basis, can't understand
why some poor stiff interred in a penal institution should register a
kick against being compelled to work five, ten, or fifteen years for
nothing.

Society also doesn't seem to realize that it constitutes and creates
its own temptation--to wit, when a gink sizes up the class of stiffs
big cities like New York and elsewhere pick up to run their public
business, and the shake-downs they stand for from their own duly
chosen and elected grafters, the little gink feels it to be his
almost bounden duty to stock up a flossy silver quarry and lead them
to it.

Of course there have been many changes in prison conditions since
this Osborne party got fussing around, both inside and out, but
nevertheless there is still room for more. Speaking of old
conditions, I am personally acquainted with a party who could throw a
piece of Irish confetti up in the air, and who, if he didn't duck,
would get it on his conk and be reminded of old times, who can most
distinctly remember when the social unit who happened to land in the
waste heap lost his hair, manhood, and faith in man and God Almighty,
all inside of twenty-four hours.

This was in the days of zebra clothing, short hair,