M’Kay’s dreams therefore were not realised, and yet it would be a mistake to say that they ended in nothing.  It often happens that a grand attempt, although it may fail—­miserably fail—­is fruitful in the end and leaves a result, not the hoped for result it is true, but one which would never have been attained without it.  A youth strives after the impossible, and he is apt to break his heart because he has never even touched it, but nevertheless his whole life is the sweeter for the striving; and the archer who aims at a mark a hundred yards away will send his arrow further than he who sets his bow and his arm for fifty yards.  So it was with M’Kay.  He did not convert Drury Lane, but he saved two or three.  One man whom we came to know was a labourer in Somerset House, a kind of coal porter employed in carrying coals into the offices there from the cellars below, and in other menial duties.  He had about fifteen or sixteen shillings a week, and as the coals must necessarily be in the different rooms before ten o’clock in the morning, he began work early, and was obliged to live within an easy distance of the Strand.  This man had originally been a small tradesman in a country town.  He was honest, but he never could or never would push his trade in any way.  He was fond of all kinds of little mechanical contrivings, disliked his shop, and ought to have been a carpenter or cabinet-maker—­not as a master but as a journeyman, for he had no ability whatever to control men or direct large operations.  He was married, and a sense of duty to his wife—­he fortunately had no children—­induced him to stand or sit behind his counter with regularity, but people would not come to buy of him, because he never seemed to consider their buying as any favour conferred on him; and thus he became gradually displaced by his more energetic or more obsequious rivals.  In the end he was obliged to put up his shutters.  Unhappily for him, he had never been a very ardent attendant at any of the places of religious worship in the town, and he had therefore no organisation to help him.  Not being master of any craft, he was in a pitiable plight, and was slowly sinking, when he applied to the solicitor of the political party for which he had always voted to assist him.  The solicitor applied to the member, and the member, much regretting the difficulty of obtaining places for grown-up men, and explaining the pressure upon the Treasury, wrote to say that the only post at his disposal was that of labourer.  He would have liked to offer a messengership, but the Treasury had hundreds of applications from great people who wished to dispose of favourite footmen whose services they no longer required.  Our friend Taylor had by this time been brought very low, or he would have held out for something better, but there was nothing to be done.  He was starving, and he therefore accepted; came to London; got a room, one room only, near Clare Market, and began his new duties.