And so in order to feel that I was at least doing something for the
community to earn my right to live, I was forced to pay for the
opportunity and also to aid in keeping alive one of the many systems of
graft, which unnaturally swallows up the results of honest men's labor.
So I began work as a street-sweeper--a position looked upon generally as
one of the lowest in the scale of human employment. Why the man who
sweeps the streets, making clean and wholesome the thoroughfares, which
have to be traveled constantly by the people, and saving the public from
filth and disease, should be looked down upon by the rest of his fellow
beings for doing this great service, seems beyond the limits of sane
reasoning; but such is the case in this world, where money is the god
worshiped by all.
An illustrative incident occurred while I held the unique position of
street-sweeper, and at the same time being a guest at the fashionable
Waldoria Hotel. I had become acquainted with many of the wealthy guests
of the place, who, no doubt, supposing me to be a man of riches, courted
my society to some extent. In fact, I had become rather popular among
the permanent residents. There was one family in particular, a certain
Mrs. Snipe and her two daughters, who took every occasion to pay me
attentions, until one day as I was engaged in my daily work on the
street, some distance from the hotel, I noticed a carriage approaching
which held Mrs. Snipe and her brood. They were all looking straight at
me, but gave no sign of recognition as they passed along.
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