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Riis, Jacob A., 1849-1914

"The Making of an American"

I have it yet. He came,
and I tried hard to break him of his failing. But I had undertaken
a job that was too big for me. Upon my return from a Western trip
I found that he had taken to drinking again, and in his cups had
enlisted. His curse followed him into the army. He rose to the
rank of sergeant, only to fall again and suffer degradation. The
other day he shot himself at the post where he was stationed, after
nearly thirty years of service. Yet in all his ups and downs he
never forgot his home. While his mother lived he helped support
her in far-off Denmark; and when she was gone, no month passed that
he did not send home the half of his wages for the support of his
crippled sister in the old town. Charles was not bad. He was a poor,
helpless, unhappy boy, who came to me for help, and I had none to
give, God pity him and me.
The Western trip I spoke of was my undoing. Puffed up by my success
as a salesman, I yielded in an evil hour to the blandishments of
my manufacturers, and accepted the general agency of the State of
Illinois, with headquarters in Chicago.


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