Wanderings of French Ed

by J. Adelard René

That night he went to bed earlier than usual, not to sleep, but to cry in despair. In the stillness of the night he thought he could hear the sobbing of his old mother, and in the darkness of his little room he imagined he could see the sad face of his blue-eyed sweetheart. He had never thought that life could be so bitter, and to his young soul the weight of his sorrow was indeed great.

The next morning, sitting in what they called "the-waiting room," Edward noticed a young man enter, carrying under his arm a large package of frames. Edward was attracted by the strange and unhappy light in the young man's eyes, and the hyper-sympathetic nature of the French lad made him forget his own misfortunes while looking at the newcomer. There is a certain affinity between unfortunates—miserables. After placing his package on the floor the stranger sat down near Edward, and after rolling a cigarette he turned toward Edward and asked him for a match, which was handed to him, and this proved to be the beginning of an acquaintanceship which brought about a friendship of the kind that endures, and is one of the greatest gifts to humanity.

Misery accelerates acquaintanceship, and in a very short time they knew all about each other. Edward's new-made friend was a Russian, and his limited knowledge of the French language was a great help in their conversation.

Benjamin Oresky, his new friend, told him his story, and with all the impulsive generosity of his nature, the French lad felt a great wave of sympathy in his soul for the young Russian. Poor Ben! After running away from Russia, on account of some trivial political trouble, he had learned that the government had arrested his father, accusing him of helping his son to run away to America, and as a result of this trouble, his mother had died; and he felt guilty of her death.

After learning the Russian's sad story Edward felt that his own misfortune was not near so great as Ben's, and he decided to do all in his power to help his new friend, at least in a moral way.

Benjamin Oresky was twenty-one years old; indescribable suffering had caused premature wrinkles in his handsome face, and the streaks of silver in his black curly hair told of unhappiness, while in his brown eyes shone a light born of martyrdom.

The brotherly love that had sprung up between these two young men was the result of a condition of circumstances that brought this mystic virtue in all its purity. It came to their souls like a soothing balm, and it gave birth to ambitions that otherwise would never have been felt.

They were each other's confidant. Their interests were mutual, and in their friendship they found the nucleus of courage to hold them up in days of adversity.

Edward's old dreams of fortune came back, and he succeeded in getting his new friend to share some of them. A partnership was arranged between the two, and from this time Edward began to peddle frames from house to house. It was hard and far from the realization of his old dreams, but it was better than starvation, and the hope of better days, combined with the example of the Russian, gave him courage to follow this rather humble trade.

At times, when they met at night, after a lucky day and counted their receipts, they were elated, while other times, not being so fortunate, they felt discouraged. More than once, Edward decided to write home for money, but at the last minute his pride stopped him.