After a restless night, morning found him aching in every limb in his body, but glad that he was nearing his destination. Worcester, Mass., was the city where he expected to first walk upon American soil, and after searching in vain upon the yellow time-table to find the exact time he would arrive, he turned to a fellow-passenger, a big fat fellow, whom he addressed in French, saying: "A quelle heure arriverons nous a Wor-ces-ter?"
The big fellow look puzzled at first, then smiling, he said: "Talk
United States."
Edward failed to understand the meaning of "talking United States," but answered "thank you," trying to look satisfied with the answer.
About two hours later the conductor came in and said: "Worster!
Worster!" and shortly after the train stopped in a large depot.
Almost everyone stepped out except Edward, who had no idea that
"Worster," as the conductor called it, and "Worcester" were the same
place. "Don't you want to get off here?" asked the conductor.
"No, I am going to Worcester," answered the French lad, but the conductor picked up some of his things and smilingly informed him that he was at the end of his trip.
After finding his way out of the station, Edward stopped an instant to look around and immediately he was surrounded by a lot of cabmen yelling, gesticulating and wanting to take hold of some of the boy's parcels. Surprised and almost scared he tried to make them understand something in French, but failed, and he was getting in a rather embarrassing situation, when an old gentleman, who had witnessed the proceedings, stepped up to him and asked him in broken French where he wanted to go. "God bless you!" thought Edward as he looked up into the kind old gentleman's face, and told him where he wanted to be directed to.
The old gentleman walked part way with him, and then gave him directions to find a hotel kept by a Frenchman, where he said Edward would be well treated. After a few minutes Edward found himself in front of a cheap-looking boarding house, bearing the name "Hotel de Montreal," and he walked in. Every one in the place spoke French, and he felt at once like a new man. His face brightened up and his old-time courage came back as he told the proprietor that we wanted to stop there for a few days.
The remainder of that day was spent in sight-seeing and in gathering information about addresses given him by his father and friends of some compatriots in business in that city, from whom Edward expected to receive employment and get his start in American life.
Early the next day he started to call at each place, sure that he would have no trouble in finding employment, but his enthusiasm was somewhat cooled when compatriots in business informed him carelessly that they could do nothing for him. At each succeeding place he met with the same fate, until a call had been made at every address.
His modest pocketbook was depleted, and the light of hope that bums in every man's soul was getting dim, and its rays were like those of a flickering candle. Golden dreams had left his heart one by one to make room for the cold and cruel reality. Was that the United States he had read and heard so much about? Where every one could make money? True, there was much activity, but it broke his heart to think he had no part in it. He felt small and lost among these strangers who passed by him without noticing him; he, who in his native village was used to be quite an important personage. He would have given ten years of his life to be back home, but alas! his money was now nearly all gone.