Life under Difficulties—drawbacks of a Public-school Training—Hints on Emigration—Pneumonia—Unemployment in Chicago, 1893.

Do not imagine from what I have just written that I stepped from one of these positions into another. Far from it; there are successive gaps between filled with fruitless searching after work. In one thing I was very lucky: two of my wife’s brothers came to Chicago at the same time she and I did, and we all helped one another. When in need, one could always get meals from the others, if they had work; and for this reason none of us starved, though we ate slim meals occasionally. I remember, one evening, one of the boys came up to our room to go out and sup with us (we ate at a restaurant), whereas my wife and I had been waiting for him to come home, so that we could get him to take us out! I had a little bank in which I had been putting pennies for a rainy day, and we decided to break it open, as the rainy day had arrived. It had, if I remember right, 78 cents in it; and there came the rub—none of us wanted to hand 56the waiter 78 copper cents for the supper, so it had to be changed into silver, and none of us wanted to do the changing. At last we put the job on my wife, as we were two to one against her.

My wife was the life of the whole lot of us boys, for boys we all were. She it was who cheered us and kept heart in us during bad times, and during one very bad time she tided me over by getting a position as cashier at a soda-fountain, till I was on my feet again.

We had our amusements too, and occasionally went to the theatre, in the peanut gallery, and sometimes I got passes from an actor friend of mine. There was a piano in our boarding-house, where a mob of about a dozen of us would congregate in the evenings and have music, singing, and story-telling. It was quite a conglomeration. There were two old-maid sisters, teachers in the Chicago High School, who could recite; a young fellow who was singing tenor in the “chorus” of Kiralfy’s America Company at the Auditorium (he could parody anything, had a very fine voice, and was a natural comedian); then there was an engraver in Lyon and Healy’s piano factory, who played well; also an elderly man, who taught music on the guitar and banjo, and played divinely on the latter; a stockbroker’s clerk, my wife, her two brothers, and myself, 57who were all strong on choruses; and others whom I forget. When times were good, and we could buy a jug of beer and had plenty of tobacco, that house used to be a scene of much revelry.

Chicago, however, is not like London, where you can find so many places to see and amuse yourself without cost. Excepting the parks one has to pay to go anywhere, either to the museum or picture gallery, and even the parks cost car-fare. For, as I have said before, Chicago is a huge city. When I worked at the fair-grounds I lived on the west side, and went eight miles to my work and back every day.

I have said that an English public-school education was a poor training for a man who had to make a living in the United States—at least, at the start. I do not mean, of course, a man who has a finished education and could enter one of the professions, but I mean for a lad who comes of good family, who has failed for the army or navy, who is not studious, but who is not necessarily an idiot. Such a lad gets ideas in an English public school—at least, it was so in my school—both from the masters and from his comrades, that when he grows up there are only a few things a gentleman can do and not lose caste. He must not be a “counter-jumper” or take any menial position. A farmer or rancher is correct form, and 58even “help” on either is within the pale. But it is better to live as a gentleman supported by relatives than to “disgrace” them by earning one’s own support in any “low” position. Then, again, the education one receives is not practical for the necessities of life here. Here one needs book-keeping instead of Greek, shorthand and typewriting instead of Latin, and the study of modern business methods instead of ancient history. All these things, of course, are good in their place, but I am speaking solely of the boy who finally has to come to the States to make his way in competition with men who are thoroughly up-to-date in all these things.

Once in Chicago I saw an advertisement for a coachman at $60 per month and cottage. It was a bonanza. I was in great need of work at the time, and so applied for the position; but, unfortunately, all the letters of recommendation I could show were from the president of the Agricultural College at Guelph, the rector of my church there, and my certificate of the Simla Veterinary Course, all of which told the tale of my being gentle-born and not of the coachman class. The advertiser was an Englishman and a large broker on the Stock Exchange, and though he acknowledged that I could fill the place, and from my veterinary knowledge would be of more value to 59him than an ordinary coachman, he refused me the job solely on the ground that I was a gentleman, and he could not employ such in a menial position. I explained that I was married and badly needed work, and that I was not likely to presume, but would give him good and honest work. He said he was sorry, but it would make him uncomfortable to have a gentleman working for him in a “menial positi............