around till he found the calling that promised most. Having left college
and given up his chosen profession of the law, he had resolved to adopt
any honest pursuit that seemed to lead most quickly to fortune.

Too impatient to eat his breakfast, he sallied forth into the great
city, knowing not a soul in it. His only recommendations and credentials
were his young, honest face, and a letter from his minister, saying
that he was a member of the church in Bankville, "in good and regular
standing," and, "as far as he knew, a most worthy young man"--rather
meagre capital amid the competitions of a large city. But, with courage
bold and high, he strode off toward the business part of the town.

As he passed the depot it occurred to him that an opening might exist
there. It would be a good post of observation, and perhaps he would
be able to slip home oftener. So he stopped and asked the man in the
ticket-office, blandly, "Do you wish to employ a young man in connection
with this depot or road in any capacity?"

The ticket-man stared at him a moment through his window, frowned, and
curtly said, "No!" and then went on counting what seemed to poor Dennis
millions of money. The man had no right to say yes or no, since he was
a mere official, occupying his own little niche, with no authority
beyond. But an inveterate feud seemed to exist between this man and
the public. He acted as if the world in general, instead of any one
in particular, had greatly wronged him. It might be a meek woman with
a baby, or a bold, red-faced drover, a delicately-gloved or horny hand
that reached him the change, but it was all the same. He knitted his
brows, pursed up his mouth, and dealt with all in a quick, jerking
way, as if he could not bear the sight of them, and wanted to be rid
of them as soon as possible. Still these seem just the peculiarities