Yet, in the thick night of his earthly prospects, Dennis still loved
and trusted God. He reasoned justly, that if at last brought to such
a place as heaven, no matter what he suffered here, he had only cause
for unbounded gratitude. And he felt sure that all would be right in
the end, but now feared that his life would be like his father's, a
tissue of disappointments, and that he, an unsuccessful voyager,
storm-tossed and shipwrecked, would be thrown upon the heavenly shore
by some dark-crested billow of misfortune.

Thus Dennis sat lost in gloomy musings, but too wearied in mind and
body to follow any line of thought long. A few stern facts kept looming
up before him, like rocks on which a ship is drifting. He had less
than a dollar in his pocket. It was Friday night. If he did not get
anything to do on Saturday, how was he going to live through Sunday
and the days that followed? Then his dependent mother and sisters rose
up before him. They seemed to his morbid fancy hungry and cold, and
their famine-pinched faces full of reproach. His head bowed lower, and
he became the very picture of dejection.

He was startled by a big, hearty voice at his side, exclaiming: "What
makes yer so down in the mouth? Come, take a drink, and cheer up!"

Raising his eyes, he saw a round, red face, like a harvest moon, shining
full upon him. It was somewhat kindly in its expression, in keeping
with the words. Rough as was the courtesy, it went straight to the
lonely, discouraged heart of the young man, and with moistened eyes
he said, "I thank you for speaking to me in a tone that has a little
human touch in it, for the last man that spoke to me left an echo in
my ear that I would gladly get out of it."