Without a misgiving he shouldered the little trunk that contained his
worldly effects, and stalked off to a neighboring hotel, that, from
its small proportions, suggested a modest bill. With a highly important
man-of-the-world manner he scrawled his name in an illegible,
student-like hand on the dingy, dog-eared register. With a gracious,
condescending air he ordered the filthy, tobacco-stained porter to
take his trunk to his room.

The bar-room was the only place provided for strangers. Regarding the
bar with a holy horror, he got away from it as far as possible, and
seated himself by the stove, on which simmered a kettle of hot water
for the concoction of punches, apparently more in demand at that hotel
than beds. Becoming disgusted with the profanity and obscenity
downstairs, he sought refuge in the cold, miserable little room assigned
to him. Putting on his overcoat, he wrapped himself up in a coverlet
and threw himself down on the outside of the bed.

The night passed slowly. He was too uncomfortable, too excited, to
sleep. The scenes of the past blended confusedly with visions of the
future, and it was nearly morning when he fell into an unquiet slumber.

When at last aroused by the shriek of a locomotive, he found that the
sun was up and shining on the blotched and broken wall above him. A
few minutes sufficed for his toilet, and yet, with his black curling
hair, noble forehead, and dark, silken upper lip, many an exquisite
would have envied the result.

His plan was simple enough--dictated indeed by the necessities of the
case. He must at once find a situation in which he could earn sufficient
to support his mother and sisters and himself. Thence he could look