The strangest part of this experience was that I never took a
drink nor thought of taking a drink. Yet I knew that men under
hard pressure almost invariably drank. I had seen them do it, and
in the past had often done it myself. But so sheerly non-
alcoholic was I that it never entered my mind that a drink might
be good for me. I instance this to show how entirely lacking from
my make-up was any predisposition toward alcohol. And the point
of this instance is that later on, after more years had passed,
contact with John Barleycorn at last did induce in me the
alcoholic desire.

I had often noticed the day fireman staring at me in a curious
way. At last, one day, he spoke. He began by swearing me to
secrecy. He had been warned by the superintendent not to tell me,
and in telling me he was risking his job. He told me of the day
coal-passer and the night coal-passer, and of the wages they had
received. I was doing for thirty dollars a month what they had
received eighty dollars for doing. He would have told me sooner,
the fireman said, had he not been so certain that I would break
down under the work and quit. As it was, I was killing myself,
and all to no good purpose. I was merely cheapening the price of
labour, he argued, and keeping two men out of a job.

Being an American boy, and a proud American boy, I did not
immediately quit. This was foolish of me, I know; but I resolved
to continue the work long enough to prove to the superintendent
that I could do it without breaking down. Then I would quit, and
he would realise what a fine young fellow he had lost.