Bound to Rise. Chapter 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12
CHAPTER VI.
IN FRANKLIN’S FOOTSTEPS.
“Father,” said Harry, the next morning, as Mr. Walton was about to leave the house, “there’s something I want to say to you.”
“What is it?” asked his father, imagining it was some trifle.
“I want to go away from home.”
“Away from home! Where?” asked Mr. Walton, in surprise.
“I don’t know where; but somewhere where I can earn my own living. This isn’t a very good farm, and it’s all you can do to make a living for the rest of us out of it. If I could go somewhere, where I could work at something else, I could send you home my wages.”
“I am afraid a boy like you couldn’t earn very large wages. People don’t give much for boys’ work.”
“I don’t expect much; but I know I can get something, and by and by it will lead to more. I want to help you to pay for that cow you’ve just bought of Squire Green.”
“I don’t see how I’m going to pay for it,” said Mr. Walton, with a sigh.
“That’s just what I’m saying, father. There isn’t much money to be got in farming. That’s why I want to try something else.”
“What put this plan into your head?”
“That book I got as a prize.”
“It is the life of Franklin, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Did he go away from home when he was a boy?”
“Yes, and he succeeded, too.”
“I know he did. He became a famous man. But it isn’t every boy that is like Franklin.”
“I know that. I never expect to become a great man like him; but I can make something.”
“There’s another thing, Harry. It takes money to travel round, and I haven’t got any means to give you.”
“I don’t want any, father. I mean to work my way. I’ve got twenty-five cents to start with. Now, father, what do you say?”
“I’ll speak to your mother about it.”
With this Harry was content. He had a good deal of confidence that he could carry his point with both parents.
He went into the house, and said to his mother:
“Mother, father’s going to speak to you about my going away from home. Now don’t you oppose it.”
“I won’t oppose your notion, though I ain’t clear about it’s being wise.”
“We’ll talk about that in a few months, mother.”
“Has Harry spoken to you about his plan of going away from home?” asked the farmer, when he reentered the house.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Walton.
“What do you think?”
“Perhaps we’d better let the lad have his way. He’s promised to come home if he’s taken sick.”
“So let it be, then, Harry. When do you want to go?”
“As soon as I can.”
“You’ll have to wait till Monday. It’ll take a day or two to fix up your clothes,” said his mother.
“All right, mother.”
“Where do you think of going, Harry? Have you any idea?”
“No, mother. I’m going to trust to luck. I shan’t go very far. When I’ve got fixed anywhere I’ll write and let you know.”
In the evening Harry resumed the “Life of Franklin,” and before he was ready to go to bed he had got two thirds through with it. To Harry it was not alone the “Life of Benjamin Franklin.” It was the chart by which he meant to steer in the unknown career which stretched before him. He knew so little of the world that he trusted implicitly to that as a guide, and he silently stored away the wise precepts in conformity with which the great practical philosopher had shaped and molded his life.
As the family were sitting around the kitchen table there was heard a scraping at the door, and presently a knock. Mr. Walton answered it in person, and admitted Squire Green.
“How are you, neighbor?” he said. “I thought I’d just run in a minute to see you as I was goin’ by.”
“Sit down, Squire Green. Take the rocking chair.”
“Thank you, neighbor. How’s the cow a-doin’?”
“Middling well. She don’t give as much milk as the one I lost.”