CHAPTER XXXI.
ONE STEP UPWARD.
In real life the incidents that call for notice do not occur daily.Months and years pass, sometimes, where the course of life is quietand uneventful. So it was with Harry Walton. He went to his dailywork with unfailing regularity, devoted a large part of his leisureto reading and study, or writing sketches for the Boston papers, andfound himself growing steadily wiser and better informed. Hisaccount in the savings-bank grew slowly, but steadily; and on hisnineteenth birthday, when we propose to look in upon him again, hewas worth five hundred dollars.
Some of my readers who are favored by fortune may regard this as asmall sum. It is small in itself, but it was not small for a youthin Harry's position to have saved from his small earnings. But ofgreater value than the sum itself was the habit of self-denial andsaving which our hero had formed. He had started in the right way,and made a beginning which was likely to lead to prosperity in theend. It had not been altogether easy to save this sum. Harry'sincome had always been small, and he might, without incurring thecharge of excessive extravagance, have spent the whole. He haddenied himself on many occasions, where most boys of his age wouldhave yielded to the temptation of spending money for pleasure orpersonal gratification; but he had been rewarded by the thought thathe was getting on in the world.
"This is my birthday, Mr. Ferguson," he said, as he entered theprinting-office on that particular morning.
"Is it?" asked Ferguson, looking up from his case with interest."How venerable are you, may I ask?"
"I don't feel very venerable as yet," said Harry, with a smile. "Iam nineteen."
"You were sixteen when you entered the office."
"As printer's devil--yes."
"You have learned the business pretty thoroughly. You are as good aworkman as I now, though I am fifteen years older."
"You are too modest, Mr. Ferguson."
"No, it is quite true. You are as rapid and accurate as I am, andyou ought to receive as high pay."
"That will come in time. You know I make something by writing forthe papers."
"That's extra work. How much did you make in that way last year?"
"I can tell you, because I figured it up last night. It was onehundred and twenty-five dollars, and I put every cent into thesavings-bank."
"That is quite an addition to your income."
"I shall make more this year. I am to receive two dollars a column,hereafter, for my sketches."
"I congratulate you, Harry,--the more heartily, because I think youdeserve it. Your recent sketches show quite an improvement overthose you wrote a year ago."
"Do you really think so?" said Harry, with evident pleasure.
"I have no hesitation in saying so. You write with greater ease thanformerly, and your style is less that of a novice."
"So I have hoped and thought; but of course I was prejudiced in myown favor."
"You may rely upon it. Indeed, your increased pay is proof of it.Did you ask it?"
"The increase? No, the editor of the 'Standard' wrote me voluntarilythat he considered my contributions worth the additional amount."
"That must be very pleasant. I tell you what, Harry, I've a greatmind to set up opposition to you in the story line."
"Do so," said Harry, smiling.
"I would if I had the slightest particle of imagination; but the factis, I'm too practical and matter-of-fact. Besides, I never had anytalent for writing of any kind. Some time I may become publisher ofa village paper like this; but farther than that I don't aspire."
"We are to be partners in that, you know, Ferguson."
"That may be, for a time; but you will rise higher than that, Harry."
"I am afraid you overrate me."
"No; I have observed you closely in the time we have been together,and I have long felt that you are destined to rise from the ranks inwhich I am content to remain. Haven't you ever felt so, yourself,Harry?"
Harry's cheek flushed, and his eye lighted up.
"I won't deny that I have such thoughts sometimes," he said; "but itmay end in that."
"It often does end in that; but it is only where ambition is notaccompanied by faithful work. Now you are always at work. You aredoing what you can to help fortune, and the end will be that fortunewill help you."
"I hope so, at any rate," said Harry, thoughtfully. "I should liketo fill an honorable position, and do some work by which I might beknown in after years."
"Why not? The boys and young men of to-day are hereafter to fill thehighest positions in the community and State. Why may not the lotfall to you?"
"I will try, at any rate, to qualify myself. Then ifresponsibilities come, I will try to discharge them."
The conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of Mr.Anderson, the editor of the "Gazette." He was not as well or strongas when we first made his acquaintance. Then he seemed robustenough, but now he was thinner, and moved with slower gait. It wasnot easy to say what had undermined his strength, for he had had nosevere fit of sickness; but certainly he was in appearance severalyears older than when Harry entered the office.
"How do you feel this morning, Mr. Anderson?" asked Ferguson.
"I feel weak and languid, and indisposed to exertion of any kind."
"You need some change."
"That is precisely what I have thought myself. The doctor adviseschange of scene, and this very morning I had a letter from a brotherin Wisconsin, asking me to come out and visit him."
"I have no doubt it would do you good."
"So it would. But how can I go? I can't take the paper with me,"said Mr. Andersen, rather despondently.
"No; but you can leave Harry to edit it in your absence."
"Mr. Ferguson!" exclaimed Harry, startled by the proposition.
"Harry as editor!" repeated Mr. Anderson.
"Yes; why not? He is a practised writer. For more than two years hehas written for two Boston papers."
"But he is so young. How old are you, Harry?" asked the editor.
"Nineteen to-day, sir."
"Nineteen. That's very young for an editor."
"Very true; but, after all, it isn't so much the age as thequalifications, is it, Mr. Anderson?"
"True," said the editor, meditatively. "Harry, do you think youcould edit the paper for two or three months?"
"I think I could," said Harry, with modest confidence. His heartbeat high at the thought of the important position which was likelyto be opened to him; and plans of what he would do to make the paperinteresting already began to be formed in his mind.
"It never occurred to me before, but I really think you could," saidthe editor, "and that would remove every obstacle to my going. Bythe way, Harry, you would have to find a new boarding-place, for Mrs.Anderson would accompany me, and we should shut up the house."
"Perhaps Ferguson would take me in?" said Harry.
"I should be glad to do so; but I don't know that my humble farewould be good enough for an editor."
Harry smiled. "I won't put on airs," he said, "till my commission ismade out."
"I am afraid that I can't offer high pay for your services in thatcapacity," said Mr. Anderson.
"I shall charge nothing, sir," said Harry, "but thank you for theopportunity of entering, if only for a short time, a profession towhich it is my ambition to belong."
After a brief consultation with his wife, Mr. Anderson appointedHarry editor pro tem., and began to make arrangements for hisjourney. Harry's weekly wages were raised to fifteen dollars, out ofwhich he waa to pay Ferguson four dollars a week for board.
So our hero found himself, at nineteen, the editor of an oldestablished paper, which, though published in a country village, wasnot without its share of influence in the county and State.
Risen from the Ranks; Or, Harry Walton's Success Page 31