myself with the belief that it will
be better by and by, though I get heartsick sometimes. It seems almost
useless to try farther for work in any well established business."

The foregoing will give a very slight idea of the struggle young
Randolph made to keep his head above water, and it presents a pretty
true picture of the difficulties a boy will ordinarily encounter in
attempting to make his way unaided in a great city like New York. Of
course difficulties vary in character and severity; but it would not
be safe for the average boy to expect to find less than those that
surrounded our hero. Some would be more fortunate, while others would be
less favored. Herbert Randolph was especially fortunate in meeting Bob
Hunter, whose friendship proved as true as steel. What would have become
of him while in the hands of old Gunwagner, but for Bob's effort to
rescue him? And, again, how could he have fought away despondency during
his enforced idleness had he lived by himself in a cold and cheerless
room? Brave and manly as he was, he owed much to his warm hearted
companion, whose presence and sympathy revived his drooping and almost
crushed spirits.

As the days passed by, Herbert Randolph turned his attention to the
most practical purposes. He almost entirely gave up looking for a steady
situation, and devoted his time to doing whatever odd jobs he could hit
upon that would bring him in a little money. Among the many kinds of
humble employment to which he bent his energies was that of working
the hoist. In New York the tall warehouses, those not supplied with an
elevator, have a windlass at the top, to which is attached a heavy rope,
that passes down through a wide opening to the ground floor. This rope,
with a large iron hook at the end, is attached to heavy cases, or
whatever is to be taken to any of the upper lofts. Another rope, passing
over a big wheel, when pulled turns the windlass. This winds the main
rope around it, and thus draws it up, taking with it its load, whatever
that may be. Perhaps no harder or less poetic work to an educated boy
could be found than this; yet Herbert Randolph did not hesitate to throw
off his coat, and work with an aching back and smarting hands as few
porters would do.

He worked faithfully and honestly, with no hope of reward other than the
money he would earn by his labor. And yet this very employment--this
humble porter work--opened up to him an opportunity of which he had
never