He said, “I am an American; I was born in Virginia, lived in California, have done newspaper work in New Zealand, and as a journalist I am in London—and down.”
I weakened. The man who had been born in Virginia, lived in California, and done newspaper work in New Zealand, could not be wholly depraved, for the very air of these three favored spots would preserve some semblance of virtue.
“I surrender,” said I; “express your most fervent wish and it shall be granted.”
He betrayed little emotion. His countenance remained placid, but he said, “I have talent, good looks, and industry, and I want employment,—I desire to earn my living. I asked for a loan, but it was in despair, and I desired to replace my lost revolver that I might ‘quit this ghastly dream called life’ before another week’s board was due. But under the spell of your words, ‘a change came o’er the spirit of my dream,’ and now I must live.”
“Must!” said I, “you assert this ‘must’ with such emphasis, perhaps you would tell me why you must live? For my part I see no actual necessity for it—not the least.”
A cloud was on his brow. He remained silent and immovable as a statue.
“Cheer up, old fellow,” said I, “for if you desire to earn your living, I will secure a position for you.”
I knew who wanted a man, “talented, good-looking and industrious.” I gave Leo Bergin a suit of my clothes—just a little soiled, I confess, for, as a fact, I never could obey that divine injunction regarding the giving my brother a coat, until it was a little soiled. I gave him a strong letter to a friend on Trafalgar Square, and Leo Bergin stepped into a good position.
I was called to the Continent for a few months on important duty. Time went on and within a few weeks I received a brief note.