I applied for a position as office-boy to-day—I was desperate. I have not enough to last me through a week, if I pay the woman anything.
But they said I was too old.
My feet are most horribly sore. I can hardly walk. And I have the strangest ringing in my head. I could not eat any supper—and the milk won't keep in this warm weather, either.
May 22d.
The day before yesterday, when I woke up in the morning, I could hardly stand. My head was on fire, and I do not think I have ever been so sick before. I got around to a drug-store—the man said he would give me some powders; he said they were forty cents, but I dared not pay it. He gave them to me for a quarter. He said I should have a tonic, but I haven't had it.
I was too ill to move all day yesterday. I am better to-day, but still I daren't go out. I have only eighty-five cents left.
I must manage to get out and get some work to-morrow, or I shall go mad.