old man's chance, and he said
with fervency "Why good land, aren't you going to stop to breakfast?"

Orion did not come to Hannibal until two or three years after my
father's death. Meantime he remained in St Louis. He was a journeyman
printer and earning wages. Out of his wage he supported my mother and my
brother Henry, who was two years younger than I. My sister Pamela helped
in this support by taking piano pupils. Thus we got along, but it was
pretty hard sledding. I was not one of the burdens, because I was taken
from school at once, upon my father's death, and placed in the office of
the Hannibal "Courier," as printer's apprentice, and Mr. S., the editor
and proprietor of the paper, allowed me the usual emolument of the
office of apprentice--that is to say board and clothes, but no money.
The clothes consisted of two suits a year, but one of the suits always
failed to materialize and the other suit was not purchased so long as
Mr. S.'s old clothes held out. I was only about half as big as Mr. S.,
consequently his shirts gave me the uncomfortable sense of living in a
circus tent, and I had to turn up his pants to my ears to make them
short enough.

There were two other apprentices. One was Steve Wilkins, seventeen or
eighteen years old and a giant. When he was in Mr. S.'s clothes they
fitted him as the candle-mould fits the candle--thus he was generally in
a suffocated condition, particularly in the summer-time. He was a
reckless, hilarious, admirable creature; he had no principles, and was
delightful company. At first we three apprentices had to feed in the
kitchen with the old slave cook and her very handsome and bright and
well-behaved young mulatto daughter. For his own amusement--for he was
not generally laboring for other people's amusement--Steve was
constantly and persistently and loudly and elaborately making love to
that mulatto girl and distressing the life out of her and worrying the
old mother to death. She would say, "Now, Marse Steve, Marse Steve,
can't you behave yourself?" With encouragement like that, Steve would
naturally renew his attentions and emphasize them. It was killingly
funny to Ralph and me. And, to speak truly, the old mother's distress
about it was merely a pretence. She quite well understood that by the
customs of slaveholding communities it was Steve's right to make love to
that girl if he wanted to. But the girl's distress was very real. She
had a refined nature, and she took al