Very well, I was strong. I would carve my way to a place
amongst them and make money out of the muscles of other men. I was
not afraid of work. I loved hard work. I would pitch in and work
harder than ever and eventually become a pillar of society.
And just then, as luck would have it, I found an employer that was of
the same mind. I was willing to work, and he was more than willing
that I should work. I thought I was learning a trade. In reality, I
had displaced two men. I thought he was making an electrician out of
me; as a matter of fact, he was making fifty dollars per month out of
me. The two men I had displaced had received forty dollars each per
month; I was doing the work of both for thirty dollars per month.
This employer worked me nearly to death. A man may love oysters, but
too many oysters will disincline him toward that particular diet.
And so with me. Too much work sickened me. I did not wish ever to
see work again. I fled from work. I became a tramp, begging my way
from door to door, wandering over the United States and sweating
bloody sweats in slums and prisons.
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