LOST HIS PLACE.
“WE ARE sorry to let you go, James, but business is dull and we must cut down expenses.”
The speaker was the head of a hardware store, a man not unkind in nature, but who looked at business purely as a money-making matter. Men were not to be carried over a long winter if there was no need for their help.
James Leonard’s eyes fell on the paper where he was writing with a sadder expression than before, but he said nothing. Both of his parents were dead. He was not strong in body, and none too well fitted to cope with the obstacles one meets in the daily struggle for existence. He would, of course, look for work, but that it was not easy to find he had proved when attempting to get a situation several months before. He had very little money saved for his board, for wages had been small. He would keep his inexpensive room, eat but two meals a day, if need be, and hoped his money would last till a place could be found.
The next morning he started out, not over-courageous, but determined to be persevering. From store to store, from office to office, he asked for work, and received the same old reply—“We are discharging men, rather than hiring new ones.” Days went by and grew into weeks. He came home hungry, cold, and tired. There was nobody to confer with or to cheer him. He could not get bookkeeping—that was hopeless. He would take any kind of work that could be obtained, for his money was growing perilously scant.
Finally, despite his delicate appearance, a man hired him at small wages at heavy outdoor work. As might have been expected, his hands were soon blistered, insufficient food left him with little strength, and he broke down from the labor.
The woman at whose house James had his room cared for him as best she could, but she also was poor and could not long provide for him without remuneration. He must have money for food and fuel. He could not go to the poorhouse, he could not go to a hospital while half-way able to work, and he had no relatives upon whom he could depend.
Resolutions to do right are sometimes broken when everything seems against a person. James was cold and needed an overcoat. Possibly he could have begged one; possibly not, for the world is not over-generous with overcoats. He saw one in the hall of a house which he was passing; the night was bitter cold—he opened the unfastened door, stole the coat, and hurried away.
He was restless that night as he attempted to sleep. He was cold, and in his dreams put on an overcoat that did not fit him, and he felt ill at ease. As he wore it next day, though it was black, he thought everybody looked at it. The owner might recognize it by the cut of the collar or the sleeves. He was not happy, but he was warm, and by and by, as he walked, he forgot that the coat was not really his own and paid for with his own money.