heart not to ask. And so it
went on; my efforts to get him a position and reform him ending in
nothing, as I have previously related.

After the big meeting closed Checkers reached his lowest ebb. It was
during these days that he made my office a loafing place. I suppose
that for six weeks I practically supported him, lending him two or
three dollars at a time, to "square his room rent," "get out his
overcoat," "pay a doctor's bill," "play a good thing," and heaven knows
what not--each time assuring him that I positively would not succumb
again, but regularly doing so. Still, I never begrudged it. A couple
of hours with him was worth a few dollars at any time. I divided the
expense between my amusement and charity accounts; and, in truth, when
with him I never could tell whether pleasure or compassion had the
upper hand with me. I have tried to set down with some succinctness
the major part of his experiences as I heard them; but I fear they have
greatly lost, in the telling, that delicious flavor of originality
which Checkers' person, voice, and manner gave to them as I heard them
piecemeal. Many of his sayings, when repeated afterward by Murray or
me, scarcely caused a smile, while coming from him they had seemed to
us excruciatingly funny. But I believe the secret was this--he never
seemed to say anything with the primary idea of being funny. He always
looked up with genuine surprise when his listeners laughed, and only
joined them, when the mirth was infectious, by deepening a little the
cynical curves at either corner of his expressive mouth.

For two weeks I missed him. On a morning of the third he came in with
a look of happiness on his face. "I 've got a job," he said, simply.
I wrung his hand.

"Where?" I asked.

"With Mr. Richmond."

Richmond was one of my friends. He was a partner in a wholesale
paper-house. As a boy Checkers had worked in a paper-house and knew
the stock. As a consequence he had been after Richmond, whom he had
met through me, to give him a position. Richmond liked him, and, when
an opportunity offered, he sent for him and put him to work in the
stock. At the end of two weeks he determined to give Checkers a chance
upon the road. So Checkers was going out that night, and had come to
say good-bye. I was delighted, you may be sure. I gave him good
advice, and bade him Godspeed. A few days later I received this
characteristic letter, dated from some little town in Ka