floor of which rocked up and down with every step I took across it, seemed
like a gasping, sinister coffin. There was no proper fastening to the
door, either, and no stove. I used to lie on my socks at night to dry them
a little by the morning. The only thing I had to divert myself with was a
little red rocking-chair, in which I used to sit in the evenings and doze
and muse on all manner of things. When it blew hard, and the door below
stood open, all kinds of eerie sounds moaned up through the floor and from
out the walls, and the _Morgenbladet_ near the door was rent in strips a
span long.

I stood up and searched through a bundle in the corner by the bed for a
bite for breakfast, but finding nothing, went back to the window.

God knows, thought I, if looking for employment will ever again avail me
aught. The frequent re pulses, half-promises, and curt noes, the
cherished, deluded hopes, and fresh endeavours that always resulted in
nothing had done my courage to death. As a last resource, I had applied
for a place as debt collector, but I was too late, and, besides, I could
not have found the fifty shillings demanded as security. There was always
something or another in my way. I had even offered to enlist in the Fire
Brigade. There we stood and waited in the vestibule, some half-hundred
men, thrusting our chests out to give an idea of strength and bravery,
whilst an inspector walked up and down and scanned the applicants, felt
their arms, and put one question or another to them. Me, he passed by,
merely shaking his head, saying I was rejected on account of my sight. I
applied again without my glasses, stood there with knitted brows, and made
my eyes as sharp as needles, but the man passed me by again with a smile;
he had recognized me. And, worse than all, I could no longer apply for a
situation in the garb of a respectable man.