crowd, and that was your own idea. Mamie says she never could bear
to look you in the face, if that idea had been mine, she is SO
conscientious!

"Your broken-hearted

"JIM."

The last began without formality:--

"This is the end of me commercially. I give up; my nerve is gone. I
suppose I ought to be glad; for we're through the court. I don't know
as ever I knew how, and I'm sure I don't remember. If it pans out--the
wreck, I mean--we'll go to Europe, and live on the interest of our
money. No more work for me. I shake when people speak to me. I have gone
on, hoping and hoping, and working and working, and the lead has pinched
right out. I want to lie on my back in a garden and read Shakespeare and
E. P. Roe. Don't suppose it's cowardice, Loudon. I'm a sick man. Rest is
what I must have. I've worked hard all my life; I never spared myself;
every dollar I ever made, I've coined my brains for it. I've never done
a mean thing; I've lived respectable, and given to the poor. Who has a
better right to a holiday than I have? And I mean to have a year of it
straight out; and if I don't, I shall lie right down here in my tracks,
and die of worry and brain trouble. Don't mistake. That's so. If there
are any pickings at all, TRUST SPEEDY; don't let the creditors get wind
of what there is. I helped you when you were down; help me now. Don't
deceive yourself; you've got to help me right now, or never. I am
clerking, and NOT FIT TO CYPHER. Mamie's typewriting at the Phoenix
Guano Exchange, down town. The light is right out of my life. I know
you'll not like to do what I propose. Think only of this; that it's life