Bound to Rise

H >> Horatio Alger >> Bound to Rise

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"It wouldn't hurt you if you knew a little more," thought Hiram,
who remembered very well the squire's deficiencies when serving on
the town school committee.

"I believe in learning," he said. "My father used to say, 'Live
and learn.' That's a good motto, to my thinking."

"It may be carried too far. When a boy's got to be of the age of
your boy, he'd ought to be thinking of workin.' His time is too
valuable to spend in the schoolroom."

"I can't agree with you, squire. I think no time is better spent
than the time that's spent in learning. I wish I could afford to
send my boy to college."

"It would cost a mint of money; and wouldn't pay. Better put him
to some good business."

That was the way he treated his own son, and for this and other
reasons, as soon as he arrived at man's estate, he left home, which
had never had any pleasant associations with him. His father wanted
to convert him into a money-making machine--a mere drudge, working
him hard, and denying him, as long as he could, even the common
recreations of boyhood--for the squire had an idea that the time
devoted in play was foolishly spent, inasmuch as it brought him
in no pecuniary return. He was willfully blind to the faults and
defects of his system, and their utter failure in the case of his
own son, and would, if could, have all the boys in town brought up
after severely practical method. But, fortunately for Harry, Mr.
Walton had very different notions. He was compelled to keep his son
home the greater part of the summer, but it was against his desire.

"No wonder he's a poor man," thought the squire, after his visitor
returned home. "He ain't got no practical idees. Live and learn!
that's all nonsense. His boy looks strong and able to work, and
it's foolish sendin' him school any longer. That wa'n't my way,
and see where I am," he concluded, with complacent remembrance of
bonds and mortgages and money out at interest. "That was a pooty
good cow trade," he concluded. "I didn't calc' late for to get more'n
thirty-five dollars for the critter; but then neighbor Walton had
to have a cow, and had to pay my price."

Now for Hiram Walton's reflections.

"I'm a poor man," he said to himself, as he walked slowly homeward,
"but I wouldn't be as mean as Tom Green for all the money he's
worth. He's made a hard bargain with me, but there was no help for
it."

CHAPTER IV

A SUM IN ARITHMETIC

Harry kept on his way to school, and arrived just the bell rang.
Many of my readers have seen a country schoolhouse, and will
not be surprised to learn that the one in which our hero obtained
his education was far from stately or ornamental, architecturally
speaking. It was a one-story structure, about thirty feet square,
showing traces of having been painted once, but standing greatly
in need of another coat. Within were sixty desks, ranged in pairs,
with aisles running between them. On one side sat the girls, on
the other the boys. These were of all ages from five to sixteen.
The boys' desks had suffered bad usage, having been whittled and
hacked, and marked with the initials of the temporary occupants,
with scarcely an exception. I never knew a Yankee boy who was not
the possessor of a knife of some kind, nor one who could resist the
temptation of using it for such unlawful purposes. Even our hero
shared the common weakness, and his desk was distinguished from
the rest by "H. W." rudely carved in a conspicuous place.

The teacher of the school for the present session was Nathan
Burbank, a country teacher of good repute, who usually taught six
months in a year, and devoted the balance of the year to surveying
land, whenever he could get employment in that line, and the cultivation
of half a dozen acres of land, which kept him in vegetables, and
enabled him to keep a cow. Altogether he succeeded in making a fair
living, though his entire income would seem very small to many
of my readers. He was not deeply learned, but his education was
sufficient to meet the limited requirements of a country school.

This was the summer term, and it is the usual custom in New England
that the summer schools should be taught by females. But in this
particular school the experiment had been tried, and didn't work. It
was found that the scholars were too unruly to be kept in subjection
by a woman, and the school committee had therefore engaged Mr.
Burbank, though, by so doing, the school term was shortened, as he
asked fifty per cent. higher wages than a female teacher would
have done. However, it was better to have a short school than an
unruly school, and so the district acquiesced.

Eight weeks had not yet passed since the term commenced, and yet
this was the last day but one. To-morrow would be examination day.
To this Mr. Burbank made reference in a few remarks which he made
at the commencement of the exercises.

He was rather a tall, spare man, and had a habit of brushing his
hair upward, thus making the most of a moderate forehead. Probably
he thought it made him look more intellectual.

"Boys and girls," he said, "to-morrow is our examination day. I've
tried to bring you along as far as possible toward the temple of
learning, but some of you have held back, and have not done as well
as I should like--John Plympton, if you don't stop whispering I'll
keep you after school--I want you all to remember that knowledge
is better than land or gold. What would you think of a man who was
worth a great fortune, and couldn't spell his name?--Mary Jones,
can't you sit still till I get through?--It will be well for you
to improve your opportunities while you are young, for by and by
you will grow up, and have families to support, and will have no
chance to learn--Jane Quimby, I wish you would stop giggling, I see
nothing to laugh at--There are some of you who have studied well
this term, and done the best you could. At the beginning of the
term I determined to give a book to the most deserving scholar at
the end of the term. I have picked out the boy, who, in my opinion,
deserves it--Ephraim Higgins, you needn't move round in your seat.
You are not the one."

There was a general laugh here, for Ephraim was distinguished
chiefly for his laziness.

The teacher proceeded:

"I do not mean to tell you to-day who it is. To-morrow I shall
call out his name before the school committee, and present him the
prize. I want you to do as well as you can to-morrow. I want you
to do yourselves credit, and to do me credit, for I do not want to
be ashamed of you. Peter Shelby, put back that knife into your pocket,
and keep it there till I call up the class in whittling."

There was another laugh here at the teacher's joke, and Peter
himself displayed a broad grin on his large, good-humored face.

"We will now proceed to the regular lessons," said Mr. Burbank, in
conclusion. "First class in arithmetic will take their places."

The first class ranked as the highest class, and in it was Harry
Walton.

"What was your lesson to-day?" asked the teacher.

"Square root," answered Harry.

"I will give you out a very simple sum to begin with. Now, attention
all! Find the square root of 625. Whoever gets the answer first
may hold up his hand."

The first to hold up his hand was Ephraim Higgins.

"Have you got the answer?" asked Mr. Burbank in some surprise.
"Yes, sir."

"State it."

"Forty-five."

"How did you get it?"

Ephraim scratched his head, and looked confused. The fact was, he
was entirely ignorant of the method of extracting the square root,
but had slyly looked at the slate of his neighbor, Harry Walton,
and mistaken the 25 for 45, and hurriedly announced the answer, in
the hope of obtaining credit for the same.

"How did you get it?" asked the teacher again.

Ephraim looked foolish.

"Bring me your slate."

Ephraim reluctantly left his place, and went up to Mr. Burbank.

"What have we here?" said the teacher. "Why, you have got down the
625, and nothing else, except 45. Where did you get that answer?"

"I guessed at it," answered Ephraim, hard pressed for an answer,
and not liking to confess the truth--namely, that he had copied
from Harry Walton.

"So I supposed. The next time you'd better guess a little nearer
right, or else give up guessing altogether. Harry Walton, I see
your hand up. What is your answer?"

"Twenty-five, sir."

"That is right."

Ephraim looked up suddenly. He now saw the explanation of his
mistake.

"Will you explain how you did it? You may go to the blackboard,
and perform the operation once more, explaining as you go along,
for the benefit of Ephraim Higgins, and any others who guessed at
the answer. Ephraim, I want you to give particular attention, so
that you can do yourself more credit next time. Now Harry, proceed."

Our hero explained the sum in a plain, straightforward way, for he
thoroughly understood it.

"Very well," said the schoolmaster, for this, rather than teacher,
is the country name of the office. "Now, Ephraim, do you think you
can explain it?"

"I don't know, sir," said Ephraim, dubiously.

"Suppose you try. You may take the same sum."

Ephraim advanced to the board with reluctance, for he was not
ambitious, and had strong doubts about his competence for the task.

"Put down 625."

Ephraim did so.

"Now extract the square root. What do you do first?"

"Divide it into two figures each."

"Divide it into periods of two figures each, I suppose you mean.
Well, what will be the first period?"

"Sixty-two," answered Ephraim.

"And what will be the second?"

"I don't see but one other figure."

"Nor I. You have made a mistake. Harry, show to point it off."

Harry Walton did so.

"Now what do you do next?"

"Divide the first figure by three."

"What do you do that for?"

Ephraim didn't know. It was only a guess of his, because he knew
that the first figure of the answer was two, and this would result
from dividing the first figure by three.

"To bring the answer," he replied.

"And I suppose you divide the next period by five, for the same
reason, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"You may take your seat, sir. You are an ornament to the class,
and you may become a great mathematician, if you live to the age
of Methuselah. I rather think it will take about nine hundred years
for you to reach that, point."

The boys laughed. They always relish a joke at the expense of a
companion, especially when perpetrated by the teacher.

"Your method of extracting the square root is very original. You
didn't find it in any arithmetic, did you?"

"No, sir."

"So I thought. You'd better take out a patent for it. The next boy
may go to the board."

I have given a specimen of Mr. Burbank's method of conducting the
school, but do not propose to enter into further details at present.
It will doubtless recall to some of my readers experiences of their
own, as the school I am describing is very similar to hundreds of
country schools now in existence, and Mr. Burbank is the representative
of a large class.

CHAPTER V

THE PRIZE WINNER

"Are you going to the examination to-day, mother?" asked Harry, at
breakfast.

"I should like to go," said Mrs. Walton, "but I don't see how I
can. To-day's my bakin' day, and somehow my work has got behindhand
during the week."

"I think Harry'll get the prize," said Tom, a boy of ten, not
heretofore mentioned. He also attended the school, but was not as
promising as his oldest brother.

"What prize?" asked Mrs. Walton, looking up with interest.

"The master offered a prize, at the beginning of the term, to the
scholar that was most faithful to his studies."

"What is the prize?"

"A book."

"Do you think you will get it, Harry?" asked his mother.

"I don't know," said Harry, modestly. "I think I have some chance
of getting it."

"When will it be given?"

"Toward the close of the afternoon."

"Maybe I can get time to come in then; I'll try."

"I wish you would come, mother," said Harry earnestly. "Only don't
be disappointed if I don't get it. I've been trying, but there
are some other good scholars."

"You're the best, Harry," said Tom.

"I don't know about that. I shan't count my chickens before they
are hatched. Only if I am to get the prize I should like to have
mother there."

"I know you're a good scholar, and have improved your time," said
Mrs. Walton. "I wish your father was rich enough to send you to
college."

"I should like that very much," said Harry, his eyes sparkling at
merely the suggestion.

"But it isn't much use hoping," continued his mother, with a sigh.
"It doesn't seem clear whether we can get a decent living, much
less send our boy to college. The cow is a great loss to us."

Just then Mr. Walton came in from the barn.

"How do you like the new cow, father?" asked Harry.

"She isn't equal to our old one. She doesn't give as much milk
within two quarts, if this morning's milking is a fair sample."

"You paid enough for her," said Mrs. Walton.

"I paid too much for her," answered her husband, "but it was the
best I could do. I had to buy on credit, and Squire Green knew I
must pay his price, or go without."

"Forty-three dollars is a great deal of money to pay for a cow."

"Not for some cows. Some are worth more; but this one isn't."

"What do you think she is really worth?"

"Thirty-three dollars is the most I would give if I had the cash
to pay."

"I think it's mean in Squire Green to take such advantage of you,"
said Harry.

"You mustn't say so, Harry, for it won't do for me to get the squire's
ill will. I am owing him money. I've agreed to pay for the cow in
six months."

"Can you do it?"

"I don't see how; but the money's on interest, and it maybe the
squire'll let it stay. I forgot to say, though, that last evening
when I went to get the cow he made me agree to forfeit ten dollars
if I was not ready with the money and interest in six months. I am
afraid he will insist on that if I can't keep my agreement."

"It will be better for you to pay, and have done with it."

"Of course. I shall try to do it, if I have to borrow the money.
I suppose I shall have to do that."

Meantime Harry was busy thinking. "Wouldn't it be possible for me
to earn money enough to pay for the cow in six months? I wish I
could do it, and relieve father."

He began to think over all the possible ways of earning money, but
there was nothing in particular to do in the town except to work
for the farmers, and there was very little money to earn ill that
way. Money is a scarce commodity with farmers everywhere. Most
of their income is in the shape of farm produce, and used in the
family. Only a small surplus is converted into money, and a dollar,
therefore, seems more to them than to a mechanic, whose substantial
income is perhaps less. This is the reason, probably, why farmers
are generally loath to spend money. Harry knew that if he should
hire out to a farmer for the six months the utmost he could expect
would be a dollar a week, and it was not certain he could earn
that. Besides, he would probably be worth as much to his father
as anyone, and his labor in neither case provide money to pay for
the cow. Obviously that would not answer. He must think of some
other way, but at present none seemed open. He sensibly deferred
thinking till after the examination.

"Are you going to the school examination, father?" asked our hero.

"I can't spare time, Harry. I should like to, for I want to know
how far you have progressed. 'Live and learn,' my boy. That's a good
motto, though Squire Green thinks that 'Live and earn' is a better."

"That's the rule he acts on," said Mrs. Walton. "He isn't troubled
with learning."

"No, he isn't as good a scholar probably as Tom, here."

"Isn't he?" said Tom, rather complacently.

"Don't feel too much flattered, Tom," said his mother.

"You don't know enough to hurt you."

"He never will," said his sister, Jane, laughing.

"I don't want to know enough to hurt me," returned Tom, good
humoredly. He was rather used to such compliments, and didn't mind
them.

"No," said Mr. Walton; "I am afraid I can't spare time to come to
the examination. Are you going, mother?"

It is quite common in the country for husbands to address wives in
this manner.

"I shall try to go in the last of the afternoon," said Mrs. Walton.

"If you will come, mother," said Harry, "we'll all help you
afterwards, so you won't lose anything by it."

"I think I will contrive to come."

The examination took place in the afternoon. Mr. Burbank preferred
to have it so, for two reasons. It allowed time to submit the pupils
to a previous private examination in the morning, thus insuring
a better appearance in the afternoon. Besides, in the second
place, the parents were more likely to be at liberty to attend in
the afternoon, and he naturally liked to have as many visitors as
possible. He was really a good teacher, though his qualifications
were limited; but as far as his knowledge went, he was quite
successful in imparting it to others.

In the afternoon there was quite a fair attendance of parents and
friends of the scholars, though some did not come in till late,
like Mrs. Walton. It is not my intention to speak of the examination
in detail. My readers know too little of the scholars to make that
interesting. Ephraim Higgins made some amusing mistakes, but that
didn't excite any surprise, for his scholarship was correctly
estimated in the village. Tom Walton did passably well, but was
not likely to make his parents proud of his performances. Harry,
however, eclipsed himself. His ambition had been stirred by the
offer of a prize, and he was resolved to deserve it. His recitations
were prompt and correct, and his answers were given with confidence.
But perhaps he did himself most credit in declamation. He had
always been very fond of that, and though he had never received
and scientific instruction in it, he possessed a natural grace
and a deep feeling of earnestness which made success easy. He had
selected an extract from Webster--the reply to the Hayne--and this
was the showpiece of the afternoon. The rest of the declamation
was crude enough, but Harry's impressed even the most ignorant of
his listeners as superior for a boy of his age. When he uttered his
last sentence, and made a parting bow, there was subdued applause,
and brought a flush of gratification to the cheek of our young
hero.

"This is the last exercise," said the teacher "except one. At the
commencement of the term, I offered a prize to the scholar that
would do the best from that time till the close of the school. I
will now award the prize. Harry Walton, come forward."

Harry rose from his seat, his cheeks flushed again with gratification,
and advanced to where the teacher was standing.

"Harry," said Mr. Burbank, "I have no hesitation in giving you the
prize. You have excelled all the other scholars, and it is fairly
yours. The book is not of much value, but I think you will find it
interesting and instructive. It is the life of the great American
philosopher and statesman, Benjamin Franklin. I hope you will read
and profit by it, and try like him to make your life a credit to
yourself and a blessing to mankind."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, bowing low. "I will try to do so."

There was a speech by the chairman of the school committee, in
which allusion was made to Harry and the prize, and the exercises
were over. Harry received the congratulations of his schoolmates
and others with modest satisfaction, but he was most pleased by the
evident pride and pleasure which his mother exhibited, when she,
too, was congratulated on his success. His worldly prospects were
very uncertain, but he had achieved the success for which he had
been laboring, and he was happy.

Chapter VI

LOOKING OUT ON THE WORLD

It was not until evening that Harry had a chance to look at his
prize. 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 it
difficult 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 new
book. He did not know much about Benjamin Franklin, but had a
vague idea that he was a great man.

After his evening "chores" were done, he sat down by the table
on which was burning a solitary tallow candle, and began to read.
His mother was darning stockings, and his father had gone to the
village store on an errand.

So he began the story, and the more he read the more interesting
he found it. Great as he afterwards became, he was surprised to
find 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, though
his early opportunities were very limited. It seemed to Harry that
there was a great similarity between his own circumstances and
position in life and those of the great man about whom he was
reading, and this made the biography the more fascinating. The
hope 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 had
been so repeatedly darned that the original texture was almost
wholly 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 a
sigh of intense enjoyment.

"It's about Benjamin Franklin, isn't it?"

"Yes. Do you know, mother, he was a poor boy, and he worked his
way 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 thinking
that 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 so
was 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 wishing
her 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 a
little money."

"I hope you wont' be as poor as your father, Harry," said Mrs.
Walton, sighing, as she thought of the years of pain privation
and pinching poverty reaching back to the time of their marriage.
They had got through it somehow, but she hoped that their children
would have a brighter lot.

"I hope not," said Harry. "If I ever get rich, you shan't have to
work any more."

Mrs. Walton smiled faintly. She was not hopeful, and thought it
probable that before Harry became rich, both she and her husband
would be resting from their labor in the village churchyard. But
she would not dampen Harry's youthful enthusiasm by the utterance
of such a thought.

"I am sure you won't let your father and mother want, if you have
the means to prevent it," she said aloud.

"We can't any of us tell what's coming, but I hope you may be well
off some time."

"I read in the country paper the other day that many of the richest
men in Boston and New York were once poor boys," said Harry, in a
hopeful 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't
want you to be like Squire Green."

"He is rich, but he is mean and ignorant. I don't think I shall
be like him. He has cheated father about the cow."

"Yes, he drove a sharp trade with him, taking advantage of his
necessities. I am afraid your father won't be able to pay for the
cow six months from now."

"I am afraid so, too."

"I don't see how we can possibly save up forty dollars. We are
economical now as we can be."

"That is what I have been thinking of, mother. There is no chance
of father's paying the money."

"Then it won't be paid, and we shall be worse off when the note
comes due, than now."

"Do you think," said Harry, laying down the book on the table, and
looking up earnestly, "do you think, mother, I could any way earn
the forty dollars before it is to be paid?"

"You, Harry?" repeated his mother, in surprise, "what could you do
to earn the money?"

"I don't know, yet," answered Harry; "but there are a great many
things to be done."

"I don't know what you can do, except to hire out to a farmer, and
they pay very little. Besides, I don't know of any farmer in the
town that wants a boy. Most of them have boys of their own, or
men."

"I wasn't thinking of that," said Harry. "There isn't much chance
there."

"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?"

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