But I was too young, being only twenty-five years of age, to become despondent over the loss of money, and I had traveled so extensively about my own country and seen its countless opportunities that I felt a certain elation in the prospect of building up a fortune of my own.
So that, although a stranger in Chicago, with no friends nearer than Massachusetts, and without the smallest idea of a plan for the future, I yet had a firm belief in God, man, my country and myself.
I did not even doubt the system which had robbed me of my fortune, and was inclined to look upon all who denounced it as hostile to the best interests of mankind.
My education was, in a large measure, responsible for this. Born in Salem, Massachusetts, one of the oldest, sleepiest and most conservative of American cities, educated in her schools and in one of the staid old colleges, for which New England was justly famous, how could I have imbibed anything but ancient, sleepy and conservative theories of political economy, and fine, staid and somewhat musty notions of the end and purpose of man?
It is true that my extensive travels had broadened me somewhat mentally. They had taught me the value of individual men and had rather obliterated sectional pride, which I was willing to confess was the besetting sin of the average New Englander; they had made me acquainted with manners and customs and had produced in me a capability of adjusting myself to delicate situations.
But this sort of breadth, while excellent and serviceable, did not render me tolerant of ideas which were at variance with those commonly accepted. My distinguishing characteristic, on which I prided myself not a little, was an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the history and resources of my own country. I mention this particularly now, because I had occasion, later on, to turn my knowledge to a very useful purpose.
I was inclined to remain in Chicago. There was no reason for it which I had defined to myself, and I really believe that, of all the dismal places I had ever seen, Chicago was the most dismal at that time. I did not have any occupation, attraction or hope to keep me in this maelstrom of the human ocean.
I did not like it. I had no friends in it. I did not seem to find companions. Indeed, I was happy in being alone, and enjoyed a certain discontent, which was productive of thoughtfulness, and which set me to expressing my thoughts on paper.
Governed by an instinctive prudence, which is characteristic of the New England mind, I had selected a room in a respectable private house, where there were also two other roomers, and took my meals at a neighboring restaurant.