To a man out of employment, proscribed, marked, there is nothing so
terrible as the _impenetrability_ of the close ranks of society around
him. Every busy man seems to have found his place; each locks step with
his neighbor, and the vast procession moves on. Once out of the serried
order, the unhappy wretch can never resume his position. He finds
himself the fifth wheel of a coach; there is nothing for him to do,--no
place for him at the bountiful board where others are fed. He may starve
or drown himself, as he likes; the world has no use for him, and will
not miss him. What Sandford felt, as he walked along the streets, may
well be imagined. If he had not been supported by the indomitable
courage and assurance of his sister, he would have sunk to the level of
a pauper.
One day, as he was passing a church, his eye was caught by a placard at
the door, inviting, in bold letters, "friend, stranger, or traveller
to enter, if but for a few minutes." It was a "business-men's
prayer-meeting." The novelty of the idea struck him; he was at leisure;
he had no notes to pay; anybody might fail, for aught he cared. He went
in, and, to his surprise, saw, among the worshippers, scores of his old
friends, engaged in devotion.
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