So, then, let me
incontinently return from this excursion and pursue the even tenor of my
tale.
Garrison had stepped down from his elevated position as the publisher
and editor of the _Free Press_. He was without work, and, being
penniless, it behooved him to find some means of support. With the
instinct of the bright New England boy, he determined to seek his
fortunes in Boston. If his honesty and independence put him at a
disadvantage, as publisher and editor, in the struggle for existence, he
had still his trade as a compositor to fall back upon As a journeyman
printer he would earn his bread, and preserve the integrity of an
upright spirit. And so without a murmur, and with cheerfulness and
persistency, he hunted for weeks on the streets of Boston for a chance
to set types. This hunting for a job in a strange city was discouraging
enough. Twice before had he visited the place, which was to be his
future home. Once when on his way to Baltimore to see his mother, and
once afterward when on a sort of pleasure tramp with three companions.
But the slight knowledge which he was able to obtain of the town and its
inhabitants under these circumstances did not now help him, when from
office to office he went in quest of something to do. After many
failures and renewed searchings, he found what he was after, an
opportunity to practice his trade. Business was dull, which kept our
journeyman printer on the wing; first at one and then at another
printing office we find him setting types for a living during the year
1827.
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