This was his manliest man, so grandly strong and brave, yet so
inexpressibly sweet-spirited and gentle, with a great human heart
that, understanding so wholly, was yet so little understood; that
in the midst of overwhelming work and care and loneliness hungered
for human love and sympathy, giving so generously of its own great
store, receiving so little in return. Here he found the strong
purpose, the indomitable will, the courage that, accepting the hard
things of life, could yet go unfalteringly forward, to the
accomplishment of a great work, even though there was ever before
Him the consciousness that at the end must come the great
sacrifice.
In 1899 he decided to launch out into the wider field, which
journalistic work in the East offered, and in the summer of that
year he came to New York. Many were the predictions of brother
reporters and friends that he would starve in the great city. It
was a struggle. He knew no one, had letters to no one, but that
was rather as he wished it than otherwise. He liked to test his
own fitness. It meant risk, but he knew his own capabilities and
believed in his own resourcefulness. He had thoroughly convinced
himself that the men who achieve are those who do what other men
are afraid to do.
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