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Updated: May 18, 2025
"I will try Lankford," said he, at length, half-aloud; "he will give me work, surely." A brisk walk of some ten minutes brought him to the door of a small hatter's-shop in a retired street. Behind the counter of this shop stood an old man, busily employed in ironing a hat. There was something benevolent in his countenance and manner.
One step was taken towards the tavern-door, when it seemed as if a strong hand held him back. "No no!" he murmured, "I have taken the pledge, and I will stand by it, if I die!" Then moving resolutely onward, he soon found himself near the door of another hatter's-shop. Hope again kindled up in his bosom, and he entered. "Don't you want a hand, Mr. Mason?" he asked, in a hesitating tone.
As he turned from the tradesman's store, his step was firmer and his head more erect, than, in a sober state, he had carried it for many a day. From thence he proceeded to a hatter's-shop. "Well, Jarvis," was uttered in rather a cool, repulsive tone, as he entered. "Are you not in want of a journeyman, Mr. Warren?" "I don't want you, Jarvis."
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