ARTHUR
10

It finally occurred to me that one of our neighbors might be currently in town. He kept the shop and cultivated the farm. He was an innocent and well-meaning man, and, if I was so lucky to meet him, his superior knowledge of the city might be of great benefit to me in my current miserable state. His generosity might also encourage him to lend me as much as he would buy one meal. I had formed a determination to leave the city the next day, and was astonished by the stupidity that had led me into it; but, in the meantime, my physical needs had to be met.

Where should I find this guy? In the conversation I remember she had been referring to her temporary residence. It was an inn; but the sign or name of the guard for some time held back all my attempts to remember it.

I finally turned on the last one. It was a Lesher shop . I immediately went to look for him. After many questions, I finally arrived at the door. I was preparing to enter the house when I felt that my parcel was missing. I had left it at the stall where I was sitting. People keep passing by . It is almost impossible not to be noticed. No one who observes it will fail to make it his prey. However, it was too precious for me to let me be governed by such a small possibility. I decided not to lose time to return.

I painstakingly retraced my steps, but the parcel had disappeared. The clothes were, by themselves, of little value, but constituted the entirety of my wardrobe; and now I contemplate that they were capable of being transmuted, by pawn or sale of them, into food. There were other poor people who were just as poor as me, and I comforted myself thinking that my shirt and stock might be able to cover their nakedness; but there were relics hidden inside this package, he said, the one who lost it I could hardly bear. It was a portrait of a young man who died three years ago in my father's house, drawn with his own hands.

He did not give a clear explanation of his family, but stated, loosely, that they were inhabitants of England, noble and wealthy. That they had rejected her the woman she loved and banished her to America, with the death penalty if she dared return, and that they had rejected her every means to survive in a foreign land. He predicted, in his wild and reclaiming way, his own death. He was very adept at using a pencil, and drew this portrait moments before its dissolution, handed it to me, and asked me to keep it in his memory. My mother liked the young man because he was friendly and unlucky, and especially because he imagined a very strong resemblance between his face and mine. I was too young to build compassion on any rational foundation. I love him, for whatever reason, with an unusual spirit at my age, and this portrait has contributed to prolonging and appreciating.

Thus finally leaving my home, I was careful not to leave this picture. I wrapped it in a paper in which several verse stanzas were written with my own hands, and with the elegance of my handwriting. I then placed it in a leather box, which, for greater security, was stored in the middle of my bundle. It may occur to you that it will be safer in the folds or pockets of the clothes I wear. I have a different opinion, and now have to bear the penalty for my mistake.