One Of My
Correspondents Was So Stumped That He Began His Letter With The
Words, "This Is A Hard Task"
; And, after vainly trying to describe
his good points, he wound up with, "It is a hard job writing about
One's self." Nevertheless, there was one who gave himself a most
glowing and lengthy character, and in conclusion stated that he had
greatly enjoyed writing it.
"But suppose this: your cabin-boy could run your engine, could
repair it when out of order. Suppose he could take his turn at the
wheel, could do any carpenter or machinist work. Suppose he is
strong, healthy, and willing to work. Would you not rather have him
than a kid that gets seasick and can't do anything but wash dishes?"
It was letters of this sort that I hated to decline. The writer of
it, self-taught in English, had been only two years in the United
States, and, as he said, "I am not wishing to go with you to earn my
living, but I wish to learn and see." At the time of writing to me
he was a designer for one of the big motor manufacturing companies;
he had been to sea quite a bit, and had been used all his life to
the handling of small boats.
"I have a good position, but it matters not so with me as I prefer
travelling," wrote another. "As to salary, look at me, and if I am
worth a dollar or two, all right, and if I am not, nothing said.
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