As customary, I halted before every newspaper placard I came to, to read
the announcements of situations vacant, and was lucky enough to find one
that I might try for.

A grocer in Groenlandsleret wanted a man every week for a couple of hours'
book-keeping; remuneration according to agreement. I noted my man's
address, and prayed to God in silence for this place. I would demand less
than any one else for my work; sixpence was ample, or perhaps fivepence.
That would not matter in the least.

On going home, a slip of paper from my landlady lay on my table, in which
she begged me to pay my rent in advance, or else move as soon as I could.
I must not be offended, it was absolutely a necessary request. Friendlily
Mrs. Gundersen.

I wrote an application to Christy the grocer, No. 13 Groenlandsleret, put
it in an envelope, and took it to the pillar at the corner. Then I
returned to my room and sat down in the rocking-chair to think, whilst the
darkness grew closer and closer. Sitting up late began to be difficult
now.

I woke very early in the morning. It was still quite dark as I opened my
eyes, and it was not till long after that I heard five strokes of the
clock down-stairs. I turned round to doze again, but sleep had down. I
grew more and more wakeful, and lay and thought of a thousand things.

Suddenly a few good sentences fitted for a sketch or story strike me,
delicate linguistic hits of which I have never before found the equal. I
lie and repeat these words over to myself, and find that they are capital.
Little by little others come and fit themselves to the preceding ones. I