“I’ve a great mind never to try to go anywhere any more, after situations—somebody must sleep there all night; for, however bright and early I get up of a morning, there he is; and I might have had the place if I had been in time, as if that was any comfort.
“And as for trying to borry money of people, which is a nice easy way of getting a living as a gentleman could desire, if you’ve a pretty good run of business in that line, I never could do much at it, somehow or other. I never could take the moneyed people by surprise. They seemed to know what I wanted as soon as I looked at them, and they were always very sorry, too—everybody is very sorry to me—but they had no cash to spare just now, and just now is all the time when people don’t want to lend. No—nothing is to be done in that line unless you can take them by surprise, like a steel trap; and I’m not quick enough for that operation. There’s never any money when I’m coming.
“I’ll give up—yes, if nobody will leave me a fortune, and no rich widow will marry me, I’ve a great mind to give up, and see what will become of me then. I suppose something must become of me: though I hardly believe it will, for nothing ever become of me yet. But of this I’m sure, there’s no use of my trying to get along by myself; and I’ll just sit down by the side of life’s turnpike and wait till something goes traveling by to get me along. But I guess I’ll have to wait a good while; for the place will be occupied—they’ll be very sorry, to be sure, and they’ll wish they had know’d it in time; but there’s no room left.”
It will thus be seen that Tribulation Trepid adopts the expectant method of treatment, as the course of practice best adapted to the peculiarities of his case. He waits for something to “turn up” in his favor, because he lacks force, faith and hope to urge him onward to energetic effort—for, in the collapsed recesses of his trembling heart, he does not really believe that any thing favorable will “turn up” for him. Such turnings up never have occurred for his special benefit. All his turnings have been turnings down; as the turnings of this world generally prove to be, unless our own shoulder is so applied to the turning as to induce it to turn in the proper direction. And this brings us to the great query of all queries—the unsolved problem in our social theory—what is to be done to help him who, by nature or by education, proves to be unable to help himself—what measure of relief is to be passed for the benefit of the sinking family of the Trepids, as they stumble down the depths of disaster?—Gentle reader, and most sagacious friend, if you should think of any, pray announce it betimes; and in return receive a position among the most distinguished of the benefactors of the human race. Cheer, if thou canst,
THE MAN WITHOUT A HOPE.
GLIMPSES OF A SOUL.
———
BY FRANCES S. OSGOOD.