Chapter VI. Looking Out on the World

by Horatio Alger

　　It was not until evening that Harry had a chance to look at hisprize. It was a cheap book, costing probably not over a dollar;but except his schoolbooks, and a ragged copy of "Robinson Crusoe,"it was the only book that our hero possessed. His father found itdifficult enough to buy him the necessary books for use in school,and could not afford to buy any less necessary. So our young hero,who was found of reading, though seldom able to gratify his taste,looked forward with great joy to the pleasure of reading his newbook. He did not know much about Benjamin Franklin, but had avague idea that he was a great man.After his evening "chores" were done, he sat down by the tableon which was burning a solitary tallow candle, and began to read.His mother was darning stockings, and his father had gone to thevillage store on an errand.So he began the story, and the more he read the more interestinghe found it. Great as he afterwards became, he was surprised tofind that Franklin was a poor boy, and had to work for a living.He started out in life on his own account, and through industry,frugality, perseverance, and a fixed determination to rise in life,he became a distinguished an in the end, and a wise man also, thoughhis early opportunities were very limited. It seemed to Harry thatthere was a great similarity between his own circumstances andposition in life and those of the great man about whom he wasreading, and this made the biography the more fascinating. Thehope came to him that, by following Franklin's example, he, too,might become a successful man.His mother, looking up at intervals from the stockings which hadbeen so repeatedly darned that the original texture was almostwholly lost of sight of, noticed how absorbed he was."Is your book interesting, Harry?" she asked."It's the most interesting book I ever read," said Harry, with asigh of intense enjoyment."It's about Benjamin Franklin, isn't it?""Yes. Do you know, mother, he was a poor boy, and he worked hisway up?""Yes, I have heard so, but I never read his life.""You'd better read this when I have finished it. I've been thinkingthat there's a chance for me, mother.""A chance to do what?""A chance to be somebody when I get bigger. I'm poor now, but sowas Franklin. He worked hard, and tried to learn all he could.That's the way he succeeded. I'm going to do the same.""We can't all be Franklins, my son," said Mrs. Walton, not wishingher son to form high hopes which might be disappointed in the end."I know that, mother, and I don't expect to be a great man like him.But if I try hard I think I can rise in the world, and be worth alittle money.""I hope you wont' be as poor as your father, Harry," said Mrs.Walton, sighing, as she thought of the years of pain privationand pinching poverty reaching back to the time of their marriage.They had got through it somehow, but she hoped that their childrenwould have a brighter lot."I hope not," said Harry. "If I ever get rich, you shan't have towork any more."Mrs. Walton smiled faintly. She was not hopeful, and thought itprobable that before Harry became rich, both she and her husbandwould be resting from their labor in the village churchyard. Butshe would not dampen Harry's youthful enthusiasm by the utteranceof such a thought."I am sure you won't let your father and mother want, if you havethe means to prevent it," she said aloud."We can't any of us tell what's coming, but I hope you may be welloff some time.""I read in the country paper the other day that many of the richestmen in Boston and New York were once poor boys," said Harry, in ahopeful tone."So I have heard," said his mother."If they succeeded I don't see why I can't.""You must try to be something more than a rich man. I shouldn'twant you to be like Squire Green.""He is rich, but he is mean and ignorant. I don't think I shallbe like him. He has cheated father about the cow.""Yes, he drove a sharp trade with him, taking advantage of hisnecessities. I am afraid your father won't be able to pay for thecow six months from now.""I am afraid so, too.""I don't see how we can possibly save up forty dollars. We areeconomical now as we can be.""That is what I have been thinking of, mother. There is no chanceof father's paying the money.""Then it won't be paid, and we shall be worse off when the notecomes due, than now.""Do you think," said Harry, laying down the book on the table, andlooking up earnestly, "do you think, mother, I could any way earnthe forty dollars before it is to be paid?""You, Harry?" repeated his mother, in surprise, "what could you doto earn the money?""I don't know, yet," answered Harry; "but there are a great manythings to be done.""I don't know what you can do, except to hire out to a farmer, andthey pay very little. Besides, I don't know of any farmer in thetown that wants a boy. Most of them have boys of their own, ormen.""I wasn't thinking of that," said Harry. "There isn't much chancethere.""I don't know of any work to do here.""Nor I, mother. But I wasn't thinking of staying in town.""Not thinking of staying in town!" repeated Mrs. Walton, in surprise."You don't want to leave home, do you?""No, mother, I don't want to leave home, or I wouldn't want to,if there was anything to do here. But you know there isn't. Farmwork wont' help me along, and I don't' like it as well as some otherkinds of work. I must leave home if I want to rise in the world.""But your are too young, Harry."This was touching Harry on a tender spot. No boy of fourteen likesto be considered very young. By that time he generally begins tofeel a degree of self-confidence and self-reliance, and fancieshe is almost on the threshold of manhood. I know boys of fourteenwho look in the glass daily for signs of a coming mustache, andfancy they can see plainly what is not yet visible. Harry hadnot got as far as that, but he no longer looked upon himself as ayoung boy. He was stout and strong, and of very good height forhis age, and began to feel manly. So he drew himself up, uponthis remark of his mother's, and said proudly: "I am going onfifteen"--that sounds older than fourteen--"and I don't call thatvery young.""It seems but a little while since you were a baby," said hismother, meditatively."I hope you don't think me anything like a baby now, mother," saidHarry, straightening up, and looking as large as possible."No, you're quite a large boy, now. How quick the years have passed!""And I am strong for my age, too, mother. I am sure I am old enoughto take care of myself.""But you are young to go out into the world.""I don't believe Franklin was much older than I, and he got along.There are plenty of boys who leave home before they are as old asI am.""Suppose you are sick, Harry?""If I am I'll come home. But you know I am very healthy, mother,and if I am away from home I shall be very careful.""But you would not be sure of getting anything to do.""I'll risk that, mother," said Harry, in a confident tone."Did you think of this before you read that book?""Yes, I've been thinking of it for about a month; but the book putit into my head to-night. I seem to see my way clearer than I did.I want most of all, to earn money enough to pay for the cow in sixmonths. You know yourself, mother, there isn't any chance of fatherdoing it himself, and I can't earn anything if I stay at home.""Have you mentioned the matter to your father yet, Harry?""No, I haven't. I wish you would speak about it tonight, mother.You can tell him first what makes me want to go.""I'll tell him that you want to go; but I won't promise to say Ithink it a good plan.""Just mention it, mother, and then I'll talk with him about itto-morrow."To this Mrs. Walton agreed, and Harry, after reading a few pagesmore in the "Life of Franklin," went up to bed; but it was sometime before he slept. His mind was full of the new scheme on whichhe had set his heart.