for me than I for them--anywhere so that I saw and heard the river
no more. . . .

[After a while he fell in with some Danish friends and there was a
period of more prosperous times, including some experiences on the
lecture platform. Then came further adventures and finally]:

I made up my mind to go into the newspaper business. It seemed to me
that a reporter's was the highest and noblest of all callings; no one
could sift wrong from right as he, and punish the wrong. In that I was
right. I have not changed my opinion on that point one whit, and I am
sure I never shall. The power of fact is the mightiest lever of this
or of any day. The reporter has his hand upon it, and it is his
grievous fault if he does not use it well. I thought I would make a
good reporter. My father had edited our local newspaper, and such
little help as I had been of to him had given me a taste for the
business. Being of that mind, I went to the _Courier_ office one
morning and asked for the editor. He was not in. Apparently nobody
was. I wandered through room after room, all empty, till at last I
came to one in which sat a man with a paste-pot and a pair of long
shears. This must be the editor; he had the implements of his trade.
I told him my errand while he clipped away.

"What is it you want?" he asked, when I had ceased speaking and waited
for an answer.

"Work," I said.

"Work!" said he, waving me haughtily away with the shears; "we don't
work here. This is a newspaper office."

I went, abashed. I tried the _Express_ next. This time I had the
editor pointed out to me. He was just coming through the business
office. At the door I stopped him and preferred my request. He looked
me over, a lad fresh from the shipyard, with horny hands and a rough
coat, and asked:

"What are you?"

"A carpenter," I said.

The man turned upon his heel with a loud, rasping laugh and shut the
door in my face. For a moment I stood there stunned. His ascending
steps on the stairs brought back my senses. I ran to the door, and
flung it open. "You laugh!" I shouted, shaking my fist at him,
standing halfway up the stairs; "you laugh now, but wait----" And then
I got the grip of my temper and slammed the door in my turn. All the
same, in that hour it was settled that I was to be a reporter. I knew
it as I went out into the street. . . .

With a dim idea of being sent into the farthest wilds as an operator, I
went to a busin