from him a volley of language which made the others appear dumb by comparison.  I soon learned that in all of this clatter of voices and table utensils they were discussing purely ordinary affairs and arguing about mere trifles, and that not the least ill feeling was aroused.  It was not long before I enjoyed the spirited chatter and badinage at the table as much as I did my meals—­and the meals were not bad.

I spent the afternoon in looking around the town.  The streets were sandy, but were well-shaded by fine oak trees and far preferable to the clay roads of Atlanta.  One or two public squares with green grass and trees gave the city a touch of freshness.  That night after supper I spoke to my landlady and her husband about my intentions.  They told me that the big winter hotels would not open within two months.  It can easily be imagined what effect this news had on me.  I spoke to them frankly about my financial condition and related the main fact of my misfortune in Atlanta.  I modestly mentioned my ability to teach music and asked if there was any likelihood of my being able to get some scholars.  My landlady suggested that I speak to the preacher who had shown me her house; she felt sure that through his influence I should be able to get up a class in piano.  She added, however, that the colored people were poor, and that the general price for music lessons was only twenty-five cents.  I noticed that the thought of my teaching white pupils did not even remotely enter her mind.  None of this information made my prospects look much brighter.

The husband, who up to this time had allowed the woman to do most of the talking, gave me the first bit of tangible hope; he said that he could get me a job as a “stripper” in the factory where he worked, and that if I succeeded in getting some music pupils, I could teach a couple of them every night, and so make a living until something better turned up.  He went on to say that it would not be a bad thing for me to stay at the factory and learn my trade as a cigar maker, and impressed on me that, for a young man knocking about the country, a trade was a handy thing to have.  I determined to accept his offer and thanked him heartily.  In fact, I became enthusiastic, not only because I saw a way out of my financial troubles, but also because I was eager and curious over the new experience I was about to enter.  I wanted to know all about the cigar making business.  This narrowed the conversation down to the husband and myself, so the wife went in and left us talking.

He was what is called a regalia workman, and earned from thirty-five to forty dollars a week.  He generally worked a sixty-dollar job; that is, he made cigars for which he was paid at the rate of sixty dollars per thousand.  It was impossible for him to make a thousand in a week because he had to work very carefully and slowly.  Each cigar was made entirely by hand.  Each piece of filler and each