When at last I got well enough to travel, I set my face toward
the east, and journeyed on foot through the northern coal regions
of Pennsylvania by slow stages, caring little whither I went, and
earning just enough by peddling flat-irons to pay my way. It was
spring when I started; the autumn tints were on the leaves when
I brought up in New York at last, as nearly restored as youth and
the long tramp had power to do. But the restless energy that had
made of me a successful salesman was gone. I thought only, if I
thought at all, of finding some quiet place where I could sit and
see the world go by that concerned me no longer. With a dim idea
of being sent into the farthest wilds as an operator, I went to a
business college on Fourth Avenue and paid $20 to learn telegraphing.
It was the last money I had. I attended the school in the afternoon.
In the morning I peddled flat-irons, earning money for my board,
and so made out.
One day, while I was so occupied, I saw among the "want" advertisements
in a newspaper one offering the position of city editor on a Long
Island City weekly to a competent man.
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