a gang-worker. The English system of working from farm to farm with a
large force was to be tried. There he was treated a good deal worse than
hogs should be used. Finding his way back to Chicago, he again began


HIS TRAMP FOR WORK.

He called on an advertiser who wanted him to travel at a figure so low
that the question arose as to how he would pay his board, when the
advertiser told him he supposed his applicant understood that he "would
have to beat the hotels!" In September came the news of the death of his
sister and mother. And still he tramped. He was now in what his casual
acquaintances considered "a hard hole." His landlady was "carrying"
him--that is, she was wanting his room worse than his company, but,
being a kind-hearted Irish woman, she could not believe another week
would pass without better success. No one with a trade--no one with the
slightest influence--knows what difficulties are before a stranger in a
strange land.


AS GOD WOULD HAVE IT,

on Saturday the seventh of October, 1871, he started out, again full of
hope. About a mile and a half to the west of the city he entered a hotel
at which he had often applied before. The proprietor had broken his leg
the day before. He wanted "a likely young man," Here was one. The
proprietor was himself an Englishman. Here was a youth whose rosy cheeks
proclaimed the shores of Albion. On Sunday he made ready. That night and
the following two days there came a calamity that horrified the
civilized world--perhaps the barbarians as well. The employers who had