One Way Out A Middle-class New-Englander Emigrates to America   By: William Carleton (1876-1945)

Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has been preserved. This e text contains dialect and unusual spelling. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For a complete list, please see the end of this document.

ONE WAY OUT

A MIDDLE CLASS NEW ENGLANDER EMIGRATES TO AMERICA

ONE WAY OUT

A MIDDLE CLASS NEW ENGLANDER EMIGRATES TO AMERICA

BY WILLIAM CARLETON

BOSTON SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1911

BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY (INCORPORATED)

Entered at Stationers' Hall

Published January 28, 1911; second printing January

Presswork by Geo. H. Ellis Co., Boston, U.S.A.

TO HER WHO WASN'T AFRAID

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I A BORN AND BRED NEW ENGLANDER 1

II THIRTY DOLLARS A WEEK 18

III THE MIDDLE CLASS HELL 37

IV WE EMIGRATE TO AMERICA 53

V WE PROSPECT 67

VI I BECOME A DAY LABORER 82

VII NINE DOLLARS A WEEK 94

VIII SUNDAY 112

IX PLANS FOR THE FUTURE 125

X THE EMIGRANT SPIRIT 146

XI NEW OPPORTUNITIES 165

XII OUR FIRST WINTER 183

XIII I BECOME A CITIZEN 200

XIV FIFTEEN DOLLARS A WEEK 216

XV THE GANG 234

XVI DICK FINDS A WAY OUT, TOO 252

XVII THE SECOND YEAR 266

XVIII MATURING PLANS 283

XIX ONCE AGAIN A NEW ENGLANDER 298

ONE WAY OUT

ONE WAY OUT

CHAPTER I

A BORN AND BRED NEW ENGLANDER

My great grandfather was killed in the Revolution; my grandfather fought in the War of 1812; my father sacrificed his health in the Civil War; but I, though born in New England, am the first of my family to emigrate to this country the United States of America. That sounds like a riddle or a paradox. It isn't; it's a plain statement of fact.

As a matter of convenience let me call myself Carleton. I've no desire to make public my life for the sake of notoriety. My only idea in writing these personal details is the hope that they may help some poor devil out of the same hole in which I found myself mired. They are of too sacred a nature to share except impersonally. Even behind the disguise of an assumed name I passed some mighty uncomfortable hours a few months ago when I sketched out for a magazine and saw in cold print what I'm now going to give in full. It made me feel as though I had pulled down the walls of my house and was living my life open to the view of the street. For a man whose home means what it does to me, there's nothing pleasant about that.