"I am glad I decided to be a printer." "I wish I wasn't one," grumbled Clapp, the younger journeyman.
"Don't you like it ?" "Not much.

It's hard work and poor pay.

I just wish I was in my brother's shoes.

He is a bookkeeper in Boston, with a salary of twelve hundred a year, while I am plodding along on fifteen dollars week." "You may do better some day," said Ferguson.
"Don't see any chance of it." "If I were in your place, I would save up part of my salary, and by and by have an office, and perhaps a paper of my own." "Why don't you do it, then ?" sneered Clapp.
"Because I have a family to support from my earnings--you have only yourself." "It doesn't help me any; I can't save anything out of fifteen dollars a week." "You mean you won't," said Ferguson quietly.
"No I don't.

I mean I can't." "How do you expect I get along, then?
I have a wife and two children to support, and only get two dollars a week more than you." "Perhaps you get into debt." "No; I owe no man a dollar," said Ferguson emphatically.