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gone too soon from the scene of these transgressions； and
remembering how his father had once returned from church； on
some slight illness； in the middle of the second psalm； he
durst not even make a packet of a change of clothes。 Attired
as he was； he slipped from the paternal doors； and found
himself in the cool spring air； the thin spring sunshine； and
the great Sabbath quiet of the city； which was now only
pointed by the cawing of the rooks。 There was not a soul in
Randolph Crescent； nor a soul in Queensferry Street； in this
outdoor privacy and the sense of escape； John took heart
again； and with a pathetic sense of leave…taking； he even
ventured up the lane and stood awhile； a strange peri at the
gates of a quaint paradise； by the west end of St。 George's
Church。 They were singing within； and by a strange chance；
the tune was 'St。 George's； Edinburgh；' which bears the name；
and was first sung in the choir of that church。 'Who is this
King of Glory？' went the voices from within； and； to John；
this was like the end of all Christian observances； for he
was now to be a wild man like Ishmael； and his life was to be
cast in homeless places and with godless people。
It was thus； with no rising sense of the adventurous； but in
mere desolation and despair； that he turned his back on his
native city； and set out on foot for California； with a more
immediate eye to Glasgow。
CHAPTER IV … THE SECOND SOWING
IT is no part of mine to narrate the adventures of John
Nicholson； which were many； but simply his more momentous
misadventures； which were more than he desired； and； by human
standards； more than he deserved； how he reached California；
how he was rooked； and robbed； and beaten； and starved； how
he was at last taken up by charitable folk； restored to some
degree of self…complacency； and installed as a clerk in a
bank in San Francisco； it would take too long to tell； nor in
these episodes were there any marks of the peculiar
Nicholsonic destiny； for they were just such matters as
befell some thousands of other young adventurers in the same
days and places。 But once posted in the bank； he fell for a
time into a high degree of good fortune； which； as it was
only a longer way about to fresh disaster； it behooves me to
explain。
It was his luck to meet a young man in what is technically
called a 'dive；' and thanks to his monthly wages； to
extricate this new acquaintance from a position of present
disgrace and possible danger in the future。 This young man
was the nephew of one of the Nob Hill magnates； who run the
San Francisco Stock Exchange； much as more humble
adventurers； in the corner of some public park at home； may
be seen to perform the simple artifice of pea and thimble：
for their own profit； that is to say； and the discouragement
of public gambling。 It was thus in his power … and； as he
was of grateful temper； it was among the things that he
desired … to put John in the way of growing rich； and thus；
without thought or industry； or so much as even understanding
the game at which he played； but by simply buying and selling
what he was told to buy and sell； that plaything of fortune
was presently at the head of between eleven and twelve
thousand pounds； or； as he reckoned it； of upward of sixty
thousand dollars。
How he had come to deserve this wealth； any more than how he
had formerly earned disgrace at home； was a problem beyond
the reach of his philosophy。 It was true that he had been
industrious at the bank； but no more so than the cashier； who
had seven small children and was visibly sinking in decline。
Nor was the step which had determined his advance … a visit
to a dive with a month's wages in his pocket … an act of such
transcendent virtue； or even wisdom； as to seem to merit the
favour of the gods。 From some sense of this； and of the
dizzy see…saw … heaven…high； hell…deep … on which men sit
clutching； or perhaps fearing that the sources of his fortune
might be insidiously traced to some root in the field of
petty cash； he stuck to his work； said not a word of his new
circumstances； and kept his account with a bank in a
different quarter of the town。 The concealment； innocent as
it seems； was the first step in the second tragicomedy of
John's existence。
Meanwhile； he had never written home。 Whether from
diffidence or shame； or a touch of anger； or mere
procrastination； or because （as we have seen） he had no skill
in literary arts； or because （as I am sometimes tempted to
suppose） there is a law in human nature that prevents young
men … not otherwise beasts … from the performance of this
simple act of piety … months and years had gone by； and John
had never written。 The habit of not writing； indeed； was
already fixed before he had begun to come into his fortune；
and it was only the difficulty of breaking this long silence
that withheld him from an instant restitution of the money he
had stolen or （as he preferred to call it） borrowed。 In vain
he sat before paper； attending on inspiration； that heavenly
nymph； beyond suggesting the words 'my dear father；' remained
obstinately silent； and presently John would crumple up the
sheet and decide； as soon as he had 'a good chance；' to carry
the money home in person。 And this delay； which is
indefensible； was his second step into the snares of fortune。
Ten years had passed； and John was drawing near to thirty。
He had kept the promise of his boyhood； and was now of a
lusty frame； verging toward corpulence； good features； good
eyes； a genial manner； a ready laugh； a long pair of sandy
whiskers； a dash of an American accent； a close familiarity
with the great American joke； and a certain likeness to a R…
y…l P…rs…n…ge； who shall remain nameless for me； made up the
man's externals as he could be viewed in society。 Inwardly；
in spite of his gross body and highly masculine whiskers； he
was more like a maiden lady than a man of twenty…nine。
It chanced one day； as he was strolling down Market Street on
the eve of his fortnight's holiday； that his eye was caught
by certain railway bills； and in very idleness of mind he
calculated that he might be home for Christmas if he started
on the morrow。 The fancy thrilled him with desire； and in
one moment he decided he would go。
There was much to be done： his portmanteau to be packed； a
credit to be got from the bank where he was a wealthy
customer； and certain offices to be transacted for that other
bank in which he was an humble clerk； and it chanced； in
conformity with human nature； that out of all this business
it was the last that came to be neglected。 Night found him；
not only equipped with money of his own； but once more （as on
that former occasion） saddled with a considerable sum of
other people's。
Now it chanced there lived in the same boarding…house a
fellow…clerk of his； an honest fellow； with what is called a
weakness for drink … though it might； in this case； have been
called a strength； for the victim had been drunk for weeks
together without the briefest intermission。 To this
unfortunate John intrusted a letter with an inclosure of
bonds； addressed to the bank manager。 Even as he did so he
thought he perceived a certain haziness of eye and speech in
his trustee； but he was too hopeful to be stayed； silenced
the voice of warning in his bosom； and with one and the same
gesture committed the money to the clerk； and himself into
the hands of destiny。
I dwell； even at the risk of tedium； on John's minutest
errors； his case being so perplexing to the moralist； but we
have done with them now； the roll is closed； the reader has
the worst of our poor hero； and I leave him to judge for
himself whether he or John has been the less deserving。
Henceforth we have to follow the spectacle of a man who was a
mere whip…top for calamity； on whose unmerited misadventures
not even the