one. He was now
penniless, friendless and almost hopeless. For two weeks he had told the
truth, and frankly confessed he was an ex-convict. He had a desire to do
right. He felt that the first step down the hill toward the penitentiary
was lying. But two weeks squandered in trudging about the country
seeking employment and finding none, convinced him that it was
impossible to obtain work and tell the truth as to his past history, so
he imagined nothing was left but to practice deception, steal or starve.
Reader, what would you have done? He did what you probably would,
surrounded by the same circumstances--he made up his mind to lie. On
making further inquiries for work, he learns of a farmer living several
miles away, who desired hired help. He immediately set out for that
place. This farmer, like all the rest, put the question, "For whom did
you last work?" Instead of imparting the information that he was an
ex-convict, he invented a little story to the effect that he had worked
for a farmer living some miles distant, with whom he had become quite
well acquainted, having spent a Sunday at his home, and whose name he
gave his inquisitor. He received employment. A bargain was made, and our
now happy ex-convict went to work. Three weeks passed away. The employer
and the employee were mutually satisfied. The prisoner worked hard. He
felt that at last the clouds which had so long obscured his sky were
about to break away, and the sunshine of prosperity would soon be his.

But how mistaken we sometimes are when forecasting the future! One
afternoon, at the end of three weeks, the old farmer rode up for
whom the ex-convict had stated that he worked. The ex-criminal was
recognized. The old farmer had some business with the employer of the
prisoner, and in the evening before leaving for his home, thinking to do
humanity a great favor, confidentially informed his neighbor that he had
an ex-penitentiary convict on his farm at work, and that he was an old,
hardened horse-thief, and beyond all hope of redemption. That evening,
after supper, the prisoner got the "grand bounce." The small amount of
money he received for his three weeks' services on the farm was expended
in paying his expenses while continuing his search for work.

He at length arrives at Kansas City, with but a few cents, and
completely discouraged about securing work. At this place he met a
criminal, a former acquaintance. He, too, was without money. They talked
ov