uld not pay me a cent for my really
brilliant month's work, for the reason that I had refused to be a
conventional boss and had no written or verbal contract or agreement.
Jim therefore resigned, forfeiting fifty dollars of weekly salary and
twenty-five thousand dollars in stock, ten thousand of which he had
offered me to stay. Mr. Kirkman thought all the world of Jim and could
not run the shop without him. Nor could he recover from the blow, for he
loved my brother, as everybody did. Mr. Kirkman died a few weeks
afterward, and after a year or two the firm went into the hands of a
receiver. All this happened because of a few paltry dollars, which I did
not ask for, for which I did not care a damn--and this is business! I
heartily rejoice, if not in Mr. Kirkman's death, at least in the
dispersion of his family and their being forced into our ranks, where
there is some hope for them.

"My brother Jim was one of the maimed ones in my family. Twenty years
ago, defective machinery and a surgeon's malpractice made one arm
useless. The Pittsburg affair broke up his beautiful home. He and his
whole-souled wife and charming children, into whose eyes it was an
entrancing rapture for me to look, were a family without a boss; they
needed none, for they loved one another perfectly. Jim is dead now, and
the best I can do is to send you his last letter; it has the brevity of
grief:

"'I have no explanation to offer for my silence, more than a feeling
which possessed me shortly after my arrival here--a desire to be
considered a dead one, and am doing all but the one thing that will make
my wish a reality. I am long tired of the game, and only continue to
play because of the hardships my taking off would cause those who at
present are not able to care for themselves. A way out of it would be to
take them along, but I think if the matter were put before them, they
would decline my proffered service; and take a chance as half-orphans.
You calling up our boyhood days in "Little Hell" makes me question still
further if I have any right to deny those dear to me the delights that
only the young can feel and enjoy. I made a great mistake in coming to
this Ohio town. The chase for dollars which I am performing here seven
days every week is very disgusting to me, and every day only adds to the
pangs. I am out all day selling goods, pleading for trade and collecting
for former weeks' business; and in the evening I must do the necessary
office w