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 school-books, and a ragged copy of ``Robinson Crusoe,'' it was the only book that our hero possessed. So our young hero 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 afterward 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 man 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 her work, 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.
``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 won't be as poor as your father, Harry,'' said Mrs. Walton.
``I
hope not,'' said Harry. ``If I ever get rich, you shan't have to work any more.''
``I am sure you won't let your father and mother want, if you have the means to prevent it,'' she said.
``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 he can possibly save up forty dollars. We are as economical now as we can be.''
``That is what I have been thinking of, mother. There is no chance of father 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 in any way earn the forty dollars before it is to be paid?''
``I
don't know what you can do, except to hire out to a farmer, and they pay very little.''
``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?''
``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. Farm work won't help me along, and I don't like it as well as some other kinds of work. I must leave home if I want to rise in the world.''
``But you are too young, Harry.''
``I am going on fifteen, and I don't call that very young. And I am strong for my age, too, mother. I am sure I am old enough to 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.''
``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 put it 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 six months. You know yourself, mother, there isn't any chance of father doing it himself, and I can't earn anything if Istay at home.''
``Have you mentioned the matter to your father yet, Harry?''
``No, I
haven't. I wish you would speak about it to-night, mother. You can tell him first what makes me want to go. Just mention it, mother, and then I'll talk with him about it to-morrow.''
To this Mrs. Walton agreed, and Harry, after reading a few pages more in the ``Life of Franklin,'' went up to bed; but it was some time before he slept.
