I made a wrong choice, it seems—but my voice remains. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. When I have traversed the streets a houseless wanderer, driven with curses from every door where I have solicited alms, and with blows from every gateway where I have sought shelter,—when I have crept into some deserted building, and stretched my wearied limbs upon a bulk, in the vain hope of repose,—or, worse than all, when, frenzied with want, I have yielded to horrible temptation, and earned a meal in the only way I could earn one,—when I have felt, at times like these, my heart sink within me, I have drank of this drink, and have at once forgotten my cares, my poverty, my guilt. ” He stepped back as though he had received a blow. I give you the plain, unadulterated truth. \" \"Good night, Mom. When the carpenter concluded his recital, Jonathan was for a moment lost in reflection.
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