Farther back than the memory of the grandfathers and grandmothers of
some of my young readers can go, there lived in a historic town in
Massachusetts a brave little lad who loved books and study more than
toys or games, or play of any kind. The dearest wish of his heart was
to be able to go to school every day, like more fortunate boys and
girls, so that, when he should grow up to be a man, he might be well
educated and fitted to do some grand work in the world. But his help
was needed at home, and, young as he was, he began then to learn the
lessons of unselfishness and duty. It was hard, wasn't it, for a little
fellow only eight years old to have to leave off going to school and
settle down to work on a farm? Many young folks at his age think they
are very badly treated if they are not permitted to have some toy or
story book, or other thing on which they have set their hearts; and
older boys and girls, too, are apt to pout and frown if their whims are
not gratified. But Theodore's parents were very poor, and could not
even indulge his longing to go to school.
Did he give up his dreams of being a great man? Not a bit of it. He did
not even cry or utter a complaint, but manfully resolved that he would
do everything he could "to help father," and then, "when winter comes,"
he thought, "I shall be able to go to school again." Bravely the little
fellow toiled through the beautiful springtide, though his wistful
glances were often turned in the direction of the schoolhouse. But he
resolutely bent to his work and renewed his resolve that he would be
educated. As spring deepened into summer, the work on the farm grew
harder and harder, but Theodore rejoiced that the flight of each season
brought winter nearer.
At length autumn had vanished; the fruits of the spring and summer's
toil had been gathered; the boy was free to go to his beloved studies
again. And oh, how he reveled in the few books at his command in the
village school! How eagerly he trudged across the fields, morning after
morning, to the schoolhouse, where he always held first place in his
class! Blustering winds and fierce snowstorms had no terrors for the
ardent student. His only sorrow was that winter was all too short, and
the days freighted with the happiness of regular study slipped all too
quickly by. But the kind-hearted schoolmaster lent him books, so that,
when spring came round again, and the boy had to go back to work, he
could pore over them in his odd moments of relaxation. As he patiently
plodded along, guiding the plow over the rough earth, he recited the
lessons he had learned during the brief winter season, and after
dinner, while the others rested awhile from their labors, Theodore
eagerly turned the pages of one of his borrowed books, from which he
drank in deep draughts of delight and knowledge. Early in the summer
mornings, before the regular work began, and late in the evening, when
the day's tasks had all been done, he read and re-read his treasured
volumes until he knew them from cover to cover.
Then he was confronted with a difficulty. He had begun to study Latin,
but found it impossible to get along without a dictionary. "What shall
I do?" he thought; "there is no one from whom I can borrow a Latin
dictionary, and I cannot ask father to buy me one, because he cannot
afford it. But I MUST have it." That "must" settled the question. Three
quarters of a century ago, book stores were few and books very costly.
Boys and girls who have free access to libraries and reading rooms, and
can buy the best works of great authors, sometimes for a few cents, can
hardly imagine the difficulties which beset the little farmer boy in
trying to get the book he wanted.
Did he get the dictionary? Oh, yes. You remember he had said, "I must."
After thinking and thinking how he could get the money to buy it, a
bright idea flashed across his mind. The bushes in the fields about the
farm seemed waiting for some one to pick the ripe whortle-berries.
"Why," thought he, "can't I gather and sell enough to buy my
dictionary?" The next morning, before any one else in the farmhouse was
astir, Theodore was moving rapidly through the bushes, picking,
picking, picking, with unwearied fingers, the shining berries, every
one of which was of greater value in his eyes than a penny would be to
some of you.
At last, after picking and selling several bushels of ripe berries, he
had enough money to buy the coveted dictionary. Oh, what a joy it was
to possess a book that had been purchased with his own money! How it
thrilled the boy and quickened his ambition to renewed efforts! "Well
done, my boy! But, Theodore, I cannot afford to keep you there."
"Well, father," replied the youth, "but I am not going to study there;
I shall study at home at odd times, and thus prepare myself for a final
examination, which will give me a diploma."
Theodore had just returned from Boston, and was telling his delighted
father how he had spent the holiday which he had asked for in the
morning. Starting out early from the farm, so as to reach Boston before
the intense heat of the August day had set in, he cheerfully tramped
the ten miles that lay between his home in Lexington and Harvard
College, where he presented himself as a candidate for admission; and
when the examinations were over, Theodore had the joy of hearing his
name announced in the list of successful students. The youth had
reached the goal which the boy of eight had dimly seen. And now, if you
would learn how he worked and taught in a country school in order to
earn the money to spend two years in college, and how the young man
became one of the most eminent preachers in America, you must read a
complete biography of Theodore Parker, the hero of this little story.