When I was twenty-seven years old, I worked in San Francisco for a mining broker. I was an expert in all the details of buying and selling stock. I was alone in the world, but I was intelligent and people thought well of me. So with these two things, I felt that I would soon be rich, and I was happy enough with that.

My time was my own after work. On Saturdays I was in the habit of putting that time into a little boat which I took sailing. One day I went too far out to sea, and was lost. Just as night fell, and I had almost lost hope, I was picked up by a small ship which was going to London. It was a long and stormy journey, and they made me work as a sailor to pay for my trip. When I stepped ashore in London my clothes were ragged and worn out, and I had only a dollar in my pocket. This money gave me somewhere to stay, and food to eat for twenty-four hours. During the next twenty-four hours I went without food and shelter.

About ten o'clock on the following morning, I was tired and hungry. In Portland Place, a child dropped a delicious big pear on the road after he had taken just one bite. I stopped, of course, and stared at that muddy pear as if it was treasure. My mouth watered for it, my stomach desired it, my whole body begged for the pear. But every time I made a move to get it someone saw what I was doing. Of course I straightened up then, and looked bored, and pretended that I hadn't even been thinking about the pear. This kept happening and happening, and I still couldn't get the pear.