SHIFTING FOR HIMSELF;
OR,
GILBERT GREYSON’S FORTUNES.
BY
HORATIO ALGER, Jr.,
AUTHOR OF “RAGGED DICK,” “TATTERED TOM,” “LUCK AND PLUCK,”
“BRAVE AND BOLD” SERIES.
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.,
PHILADELPHIA,
CHICAGO, TORONTO.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
FAMOUS ALGER BOOKS.
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=RAGGED DICK SERIES.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 6 vols. 12mo. Cloth.
RAGGED DICK.
FAME AND FORTUNE.
MARK THE MATCH BOY.
ROUGH AND READY
BEN THE LUGGAGE BOY.
RUFUS AND ROSE.
=TATTERED TOM SERIES.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 4 vols. 12mo. Cloth. FIRST
SERIES.
TATTERED TOM.
PHIL THE FIDDLER.
PHIL THE FIDDLER
SLOW AND SURE
=TATTERED TOM SERIES.= 4 vols. 12mo. Cloth. SECOND SERIES.
JULIUS.
THE YOUNG OUTLAW.
SAM’S CHANCE.
THE TELEGRAPH BOY.
=CAMPAIGN SERIES.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 3 vols.
FRANK’S CAMPAIGN.
PAUL PRESCOTT’S CHARGE.
CHARLIE CODMAN’S CRUISE.
=LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 4 vols. 12mo. Cloth.
FIRST SERIES.
LUCK AND PLUCK.
STRONG AND STEADY.
STRIVE AND SUCCEED.
=LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES.= 4 vols. 12mo. Cloth. SECOND SERIES.
TRY AND TRUST.
BOUND TO RISE.
RISEN FROM THE RANKS.
HERBERT CARTER’S LEGACY.
=BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 4 vols. 12mo. Cloth.
BRAVE AND BOLD.
JACK’S WARD.
SHIFTING FOR HIMSELF.
WAIT AND HOPE.
=PACIFIC SERIES.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 4 vols. 12mo.
THE YOUNG ADVENTURER.
THE YOUNG MINER.
THE YOUNG EXPLORERS.
BEN’S NUGGET.
=ATLANTIC SERIES.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 4 vols.
THE YOUNG CIRCUS RIDER.
DO AND DARE.
HECTOR’S INHERITANCE.
HELPING HIMSELF.
=WAY TO SUCCESS SERIES.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 4 vols. 12mo. Cloth.
BOB BURTON.
THE STORE BOY.
LUKE WALTON.
STRUGGLING UPWARD.
=NEW WORLD SERIES.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth.
DIGGING FOR GOLD.
FACING THE WORLD.
IN A NEW WORLD.
_Other Volumes in Preparation._
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COPYRIGHT BY A. K. LORING, 1876.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
To
JOSEPH T. PRESTON,
OF NEW YORK,
WHO HONORABLY REPRESENTS THE “ART PRESERVATIVE OF
ALL ARTS,” WITHOUT WHOSE AID AUTHORS WOULD
WRITE TO LITTLE PURPOSE,
This Volume is Dedicated
WITH FRIENDLY REGARD.
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PREFACE.
“Shifting for Himself” records the experiences of a boy who, in the
course of a preparation for college, suddenly finds himself reduced to
poverty. He is obliged to leave his books, and give up his cherished
plans. How cheerfully Gilbert Greyson accepted the situation, and
settled down to regular work, what obstacles he encountered and
overcame, and what degree of success he met with in the end, the reader
of this story will learn.
Though it must be admitted that Gilbert was more fortunate than the
majority of boys in his position, it is claimed that he displayed
qualities which may wisely be imitated by all boys who are called upon
to shift for themselves. In the last three years many thousand American
boys have been compelled, like Gilbert, to give up their cherished
hopes, and exchange school-life for narrow means and hard work. Nothing
is more uncertain than riches; and such cases are liable to occur at all
times. I shall be glad if the story of Gilbert Greyson and his fortunes
gives heart or hope to any of my young readers who are similarly placed.
The loss of wealth often develops a manly self-reliance, and in such
cases it may prove a blessing in disguise.
NEW YORK, Oct. 20, 1876.
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SHIFTING FOR HIMSELF;
OR,
GILBERT GREYSON’S FORTUNES.
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CHAPTER I.
TWO SCHOOL-FELLOWS.
Dr. Burton’s boarding-school was in a ferment of hope and expectation.
To-morrow was the end of the term, and vacation, so dear to the heart of
every school-boy, was close at hand.
The school was not a large one. There were twenty-four boarding pupils,
and an equal number of day-scholars from the village of Westville, in
which the school had been established twenty years before. It was
favorably situated, being only forty miles from New York. Half the
boarding-scholars were from the city, and half from more distant places.
Generally two or three pupils were sent to college each year, and, as
the principal was a thorough scholar, maintained a creditable, often a
high rank.
The school-session was over, and the boys separated into little knots.
The day-scholars mostly went home, carrying their books under their
arms.
Among the little knots we must direct particular attention to two boys,
one a boarding-scholar, the other a day-scholar. The first was Gilbert
Greyson, a handsome, spirited boy of sixteen; the other, John Munford,
of about the same age, and much more plainly dressed. John was the son
of a carpenter, of limited means, and had already begun to learn his
father’s business. But the father was sensible of the advantages of
education, and had permitted his son to spend six months of each year at
school, on condition that he would work the balance of the time. This
arrangement seemed fair to John, and he took care, whether he studied or
worked, to do both in earnest.
“How do you feel about vacation, John?” asked Gilbert.
“I was in no hurry to have it come, Gilbert. It is likely to be a very
long vacation to me.”
“How so?”
“I have got through my school-life.”
“What! Are you not coming back next term?” asked Gilbert, with evident
disappointment, for John was his most intimate friend.
“Neither next term, nor any other term, Gilbert, I am sorry to say.”
“Have you finished your education, then?”
“So far as school goes.”
“I am sorry for that. I shall miss you more than any one else.”
“We shall still meet, I hope. I shall be at work; but there will be
times—in the evening—when we can see each other.”
“No doubt; but that won’t be like sitting at the same desk, and studying
together. You had better let me ask your father to send you one more
year.”
John shook his head.
“No, Gilbert, it ought not to be. My father is poor you know, and it has
been a sacrifice to him to spare me half the year thus far. Now I must
go to work in earnest, and perfect myself in my trade, that I may
relieve him of all expense on my account.”
“I suppose you are right, John; but I shall miss you none the less.
Somehow I never could be reconciled to your becoming a carpenter. You
are not cut out for it.”
“Don’t you think I will make a good one?” asked John, smiling.
“I am sure you will; but that isn’t the question. Do you think you are
better fitted for that than for anything else?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Do you prefer that trade to any other business?”
“No; but I can’t choose for myself. I should rather be a teacher, or a
lawyer; but there is small chance for either. For either I should be
obliged to study years, and I can’t afford to do that. A carpenter I am
to be, and I will try to make a good one. Now, your case is different.
You are going to school next year, I suppose?”
“Yes, I suppose so. That is as my guardian determines, and no letter has
been received from him yet. I believe Dr. Burton is expecting one to-day
or to-morrow.”
“You won’t spend the summer here, I suppose, Gilbert?”
“I am hoping to make a little tour, as I did last year.”
“You went to the White Mountains then.”
“Yes, and had a jolly good time.”
“Where will you go this year?”
“I want to go to Niagara, stopping on the way at Saratoga. I have
estimated that I can do it for a hundred dollars,—the same that my last
summer’s trip cost me.”
“It must be splendid to travel,” said John, enthusiastically. “I mean to
see something of the world some day, though I suspect that I shall be a
pretty old boy before I am able to. I have no guardian to send me money.
I must earn my money before I spend it.”
“I never earned a dollar in my life,” said Gilbert. “I wonder how it
would seem if I had to support myself, and make my own way in the
world.”
“It would seem hard at first. It comes natural to me; but then I have
been differently brought up from you.”
“I rather envy you, John,” said Gilbert, thoughtfully. “You are so much
more self-reliant, so much better able to take care of yourself.”
“It’s the difference in the training, Gilbert. I’ve no doubt it’s in
you; but circumstances have never brought it out. You expect to go to
Yale College a year hence, don’t you?”
“I expect to; at least that has been Dr. Burton’s plan; but my guardian
has never expressed his opinion. He has simply given his consent to my
pursuing the course preparatory to entrance. I presume I shall go,
however.”
“What sort of a man is your guardian?”
“I have never seen much of him. He lives in the city, you know; but he
never seemed to care to have me in his home much. He is a merchant, and
appears to be wealthy. At any rate, he lives in a fine house up-town,
and keeps up a good style of living.”
“Who appointed him your guardian?”
“I don’t know. I suppose my father.”
“Is your father living?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t know!” exclaimed John, opening his eyes.
“It seems strange to you; but I cannot give any explanation. My guardian
tells me I shall know some time; meanwhile I am to ask no questions.”
“Did that satisfy you?”
“No; but when I pressed my question I was silenced. I was told that I
must be satisfied with being so well provided for, without trying to
penetrate into matters that did not concern me.”
“I should think it did concern you.”
“So I do think; but there is no use in thinking about it. It would only
perplex me to no purpose.”
“I can’t put myself in your place at all. To me it seems so natural to
have a father and mother, and sister. How lonely you must feel!”
“I have never been used to them. And that makes a difference. Sometimes,
to be sure, I begin to think over the matter and wish that I had ties
like other boys; but it doesn’t last long. But here we are at your
home.”
“Come in a minute, Gilbert.”
“I don’t know if I ought. I shall be late to supper, and the doctor
wouldn’t like that.”
“Take supper with us.”
“Yes, take supper with us,” echoed John’s mother, a pleasant,
motherly-looking woman, who heard her son’s words of invitation as he
opened the door.
Gilbert hesitated.
The little table spread for tea looked so much more comfortable and
home-like than the long table at the doctor’s, that he was strongly
tempted.
“We may not have as nice a supper as the doctor,” continued Mrs.
Munford, “but you may not mind that for once.”
“You give the doctor’s table too much credit,” said Gilbert, smiling.
“He doesn’t mean to pamper any of us, or make us gluttons. I would a
great deal rather take supper here.”
“Then stay, Gilbert.”
“I will,” said Gilbert, in a tone of quick decision. “If the doctor
scolds, why let him.”
“He won’t feel anxious about your not being back, will he?” asked Mrs.
Munford.
“No; he knows I can take pretty good care of myself. Besides, it will be
a saving to him, all the more because I have a very good appetite.”
All laughed, for Dr. Burton, though on the whole a very worthy man, had
the reputation of being what New Englanders call close. It was thought
that he was more economical than he needed to be. At any rate he had
made his school profitable, and was assessed for a very considerable sum
in the list of village property-holders.
“How do you do, Mary?” said Gilbert, offering his hand to a girl of ten,
John’s sister, who just then entered the room.
“Pretty well,” said Mary, shyly.
“Don’t blush so, Mary,” said John, teasing her as brothers are apt to
do.
“I wasn’t blushing,” said Mary, indignantly.
“Just because Gilbert spoke to you.”
“You are too bad, John,” said his mother.
“How soon will supper be ready, mother?” asked John.
“In half an hour. Why; are you very impatient?”
“No; but I thought there might be time for Gilbert and me to have a
catch in the yard.”
“I’ll tell you of a better way of filling up your time.”
“What is that?”
“I am almost out of wood. Can’t you saw me up a little?”
“I am afraid it will be dull to Gilbert to look on,” said John.
“I don’t propose to look on. You shall saw, and I will split.”
“I don’t like to set a visitor to work,” said Mrs. Munford. “I didn’t
expect you to work for your supper.”
“I shall enjoy it all the more. Come along, John. You’ll see what
execution I will make with your wood-pile.”
As the two boys passed out into the woodshed, Mrs. Munford said, “I like
Gilbert. Though he is rich, he doesn’t put on any airs, but makes
himself at home even among such plain people as we are.”