“Yes,” he replied. “Do what I am doing. I am taking subscriptions for a magazine and I am making two and three dollars a day, and it’s dead easy.”
He handed me a card on which was the address of the office. The agent told me he thought he had canvassers enough, but said, “You’re an intelligent looking cuss, I think I will try you.” He made the following proposition: “We offer five of our leading periodicals for twenty-five cents, providing the person will subscribe for four of them. These will come to him through the mail at twenty cents a month for one year. A collector comes every month for the twenty cents.” The twenty-five cents paid down for the five magazines was to be my commission. That night I had just two dollars, and I think I was the happiest man in Cleveland. I had landed a job, and I fully realized that I could have done twice as much if I had not been weakened by lack of nourishment and exposure while seeking work. After drawing my salary as “senator” and working like a Trojan through the day, the next Sunday found me at the Big Four Station with just six dollars in my pocket. Five dollars and twenty-five cents I paid for a ticket to Cincinnati. Spending the balance for food while on the road, I landed in that city at midnight, broke. I had no money, but I possessed a wealth of knowledge in regard to the city of high standards on the shore of the Erie inland sea.
CHAPTER XXV
Cincinnati—Necessity’s Brutal Chains
“There is no contending with necessity, and we should be very tender how we censure those who submit to it. It is one thing to be at liberty to do what we will and another thing to be tied up to do what we must.”
I entered the depot and sank wearily into a seat. I felt pretty well and had a clear conscience. Had I not honorably paid my way from Cleveland to Cincinnati instead of trespassing on the property of a mighty railroad company? I found a place to sit down, dropped my head forward and was soon fast asleep. But the sleep was of short duration for in a few minutes I was rudely awakened by the depot policeman.
“Where are you going?” he said.
“Nowhere,” I answered. “I have no money.”
“Well, what are you doing here?”