A letter that had been brought him by the morning train lay on his table, addressed to "Alec Trenholme, Esq." It had seen vicissitudes, and been to several addresses in different cities, before it had been finally readdressed to this new station.
Perhaps its owner had not found the path to fortune which he sought in the New World as easily accessible as he had expected.

Whether he had now found it or not, he set himself to that which he had found in manly fashion.
Coming in from the cold without, and shutting himself in, as he supposed, for the evening, he wisely determined to alleviate the peculiar feeling of cold and desolation which the weather was fitted to induce by having an early tea.

He set his pan upon a somewhat rusty stove and put generous slices of ham therein to fry.

He made tea, and then set forth his store of bread, his plates and cup, upon the table, with some apparent effort to make the meal look attractive.

The frying ham soon smelt delicious, and while it was growing brown, Alec Trenholme read his letter for the fifth time that day.