AT THE END OF A YEAR
After this incident of the timber fire, nothing out of the ordinary
took place for quite a while. Week after week went by, with only about
the usual amount of news in the paper. The advertising continued in
about the same volume, the advertising columns being filled each week.
There was considerable job printing to do also, and Harry was quite
well pleased. He and Tommy were kept pretty busy, but they were both
workers and did not mind hustling.
There was quite a good deal of printing, the paper for which had to
be cut from large sheets of paper--small jobs, such as receipts,
notes, checks and deposit slips for the bank, etc. Harry found that
his recently purchased paper-cutter was a big help to him. The type
foundry people had sent it promptly on receiving his letter with the
twenty-dollar draft enclosed. They had thanked him, also, for paying
the other eleven mortgage-notes and taking them up, and congratulated
him on having succeeded better in the newspaper publishing business
than he had expected.
“That is something that seldom takes place,” they wrote, “and the
fact that you have succeeded even better than you had anticipated, is
complimentary and a credit to yourself. It demonstrates that you have
good business qualifications and verifies our belief that such was
the case when we sold you your printing outfit. Whenever you need any
printers’ supplies, all you have to do is to let us know what they are
and we will be pleased to send them to you at once.”
Harry sang in the Sunday school choir regularly, which was a pleasure
to him. He enjoyed the lessons each Sunday, as Mr. Worling, who was
quite an enthusiastic teacher, made them interesting to the members of
his class. There was to be a church social and supper at the church
on Wednesday evening of the first week in October, and Mr. Welborn,
the superintendent of the Sunday school, asked Elsie if she and Harry
Weston would sing a duet, as they were going to have a musical program
in addition to the supper. She told him they would if Harry were
willing. She told her father who was at work in his carpenter shop.
“That will be nice,” he replied. “You and Harry sing splendidly, and
the people will be glad to hear you.”
“Yes, I hope so, and, father, I believe I’ll go up to the printing
office and see Harry about it at once.”
“Yes, go along,” was the reply. “He’ll be glad to sing.”
“I think he will. He’s a little diffident, but he sings in the choir
and it won’t be much more difficult to sing a duet. We’ll sing one of
the songs we’ve sung at home, so it will be easy for him.”
She left the shop and went upstairs into the printing office. Harry was
distributing type, but when Elsie entered he placed the handful of type
back in the form.
“How do you do, Elsie,” he said with a smile. “To what do I owe the
pleasure of this call?”
“I’ve come to ask a favor, Harry,” she said. “Now, please don’t refuse!”
“I don’t think I will refuse,” he said. “But, what is the favor?”
“I want you to sing a duet with me at the social in the church
Wednesday evening. Will you? Mr. Welborn, the superintendent of our
Sunday school, asked me if we would. He’s looking after the music
program.”
“Certainly I’ll sing with you, Elsie,” said Harry. “I’ll be glad to.”
“Thanks. I knew you would. Come to our home early Wednesday evening,
and we’ll practice the song once, then we can go to the church
together.”
“Very well. I’ll be there.”
“Thanks, and good-bye till we see each other again.”
He told her good-bye and she went back to the carpenter shop, where she
told her father that Harry had said he would sing with her.
Her father nodded. “I knew he would,” he said.
Then she went home and told her mother that she and Harry Weston were
to sing a duet at the church social Wednesday evening.
“That’ll be nice,” her mother said.
When Wednesday evening came, Harry was on hand at Elsie’s home.
Elsie and Harry sang the song through and when they had finished she
asked her parents:
“How did that sound?”
“Splendid!” her mother replied.
“Quite good indeed,” her father said. “I don’t think you need fear but
that the audience will appreciate your singing.”
“That’s what we want it to do,” Elsie said with a smile.
They all four went to the church together, and found it quite
well-filled. Harry had been in Coalville long enough now to be well
acquainted, especially with the people of this church, as he sang in
the choir every Sunday and conversed with different people, all of whom
had a pleasant word for him. In truth they were not only friendly to
the young newspaper publisher, but admired him as well, both on account
of his business abilities and because of the fact that he was a nice
young man with sterling qualities.
There were several musical numbers on the program; and when it came
time for Elsie and Harry to sing, they sang so well that in spite of
the fact that they sang in the church the applause was quite generous.
When the music program was finished, supper was served and Harry and
Elsie sat together at the improvised table, which consisted of some
wide boards laid on some small trestles borrowed from Mr. Merwin’s
carpenter shop.
The social was indeed a success, and all went home feeling well
pleased, as was right and proper, for that is what church socials are
for. Harry and Elsie especially, were happy, and Elsie evidenced this
when she said to Harry, as they were walking home:
“I didn’t know we could sing so well, Harry! Aren’t you glad we sang?”
“Certainly,” said Harry. “Yes, I am glad to have helped make the social
a pleasing affair, and of course you are glad to have done so, too.”
“Quite surely that is the case,” Elsie replied. “Well, they’ll be
wanting us to sing every little while through the fall and winter. That
is when they have most of their social events, and as we have sung once
they will want us to do so again. We wouldn’t want to sing any one song
till it became so well known to the hearers as to sound old. You can
come over evenings, Harry, and we will pick out some songs. I have a
stack of music a foot and a half high and we can find some good ones
in it, I am sure.”
“Very well. I will drop around once or twice a week, Elsie. I don’t
doubt but that you will find some good songs among so many. As you say,
it will be well to know quite a few songs if we are to sing very often.
I shall always be ready to sing with you whenever they want us to sing.”
“Good!” said Elsie. “That will be splendid.”
The next issue of “The Coalville News” contained a write-up of the
social at the church, and the account that Harry had written and
printed was read with interest by the subscribers. Each number of the
music program was mentioned, with the name or names of the person or
persons who rendered the numbers, his and Elsie’s names among the
others.
Harry went around to the Merwin home two or three evenings of each of
the two ensuing weeks, and they picked out half a dozen good songs and
began practicing.
“We’ll be able to sing at the socials when we get these songs learned,”
said Elsie the evening they completed the work of searching out the
songs, “and we will be singing something new nearly every time; then
they won’t get tired of hearing us.”
They did sing at all the socials held in the church and the homes of
friends of the Merwins. They were the most popular musical entertainers
in Coalville, though Charley Martin, who sang bass in the choir, and
Annie Carlton, who also sang in the choir and was one of Elsie’s
friends, ran them a close race.
The winter passed away, spring appeared and “The Coalville News” was
getting along well. By this time it had been published long enough so
that its readers regarded it as a part of their home life, and would
not have been without it for anything. It was looked upon as a fixture,
and was indeed considered one of the established business enterprises
of the town.
Indeed it had done so well that a man who happened to visit Coalville
one day, and who had at one time been in the newspaper publishing
business, came up to the printing office and after looking around a
little and talking with Harry, offered to buy the business.
“I’ll give you a thousand dollars for it, young man,” he said. “Your
press is only a hand-press, and your job-press and most of your type
are second-hand, but I used to be in the paper publishing business and
recently a desire to get back into it again has taken hold of me. If
you want to accept my offer, which I consider pretty liberal, even
though your business is paying quite well, I am informed by some of
the business men that all you have to do is to say so and the thousand
dollars is yours,” and he drew a check-book from his pocket and held
it up so Harry could see it. “I have three thousand dollars on deposit
in the bank in Denver,” he continued, “but if you don’t want to accept
the check I will get the money for you right down in your bank here in
Coalville, as the cashier knows me and I can get him to let me have the
money. What do you say?”
Harry looked at the man a few moments and then shook his head.
“No,” he said, “I won’t sell the paper. I wouldn’t sell it for twice a
thousand dollars, though one thousand is as you have said, as much as
it is worth, from a financial standpoint. But it is worth much more
than that to me, for the reason that Coalville is my home. If I sold my
paper I would have to go away from here and start anew somewhere else,
which is something I wouldn’t like to do. No, I won’t sell, sir, thank
you for your offer just the same.”
The man nodded and put the check-book back in his pocket.
“All right,” he said. “You know your own affairs of course, and I don’t
blame you for not wanting to sell, now that you have become established
here, have made friends and look upon the place as your home. However,
if you ever do want to sell, just drop a line to that name and address,
and I’ll come and buy you out, unless I have gone into something else,”
and he handed Harry a card with his name and address on it, after which
he took his departure.
“I’m glad you didn’t sell the paper, Harry,” said Tommy.
Harry nodded. “I told him the truth, Tommy, when I said I wouldn’t sell
the paper for twice a thousand dollars. I like the newspaper business.
It has variety and interest and the work isn’t too hard; and as I told
him, Coalville is my home, the only home I have in fact; and I would be
hurting my own feelings too seriously if I sold the paper.”
“That’s a good way to look at it,” agreed Tommy.
Somebody else told him the same thing that evening. It was Elsie, who
was at the door of her father’s carpenter-shop when Harry came along
on his way to his boarding-place. She had heard that a man had offered
Harry a thousand dollars for his paper, and the first words she said to
him were:
“I’m glad you didn’t sell your paper, Harry! Father told me a man
wanted to buy it.”
“No, I didn’t sell the paper, Elsie, and wouldn’t do so, not even
for three times the price he offered me, for I don’t want to leave
Coalville. It’s my home, and home’s the dearest place on earth.”
“So it is,” was the reply, “and I’m glad that you don’t want to leave
Coalville and that you look upon it as your home.”
“Thanks,” Harry said.
Then she went back into the shop and Harry continued on to his
boarding-house.
Mr. Tompkins had heard that someone had tried to buy Harry’s printing
business and newspaper, and when Harry came in, he said:
“I understand you had an offer for your paper this afternoon, but
that you refused to sell. I’m glad you refused,” he continued, as
Harry nodded. “I don’t think a new man would be able to get out a
better paper than you do, and we like you, we people of Coalville, and
consider you one of us and would hate to lose you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Tompkins,” said Harry. “I look upon Coalville as my
home and intend to remain here.”
“It’s a pretty good town,” was the reply, and he resumed reading his
daily newspaper that came from Denver each evening, and Harry went on
up to his room.
March passed away, and then April, and May, and then June came.
And with the second week’s issue in that month Harry’s paper, “The
Coalville News,” was one year old. Harry was eighteen years old when he
started the paper and he was now nineteen years of age. The paper was
doing well, the merchants were advertising quite liberally, there was a
steady run of job-printing, and Harry was quite satisfied.
Although it was a coal-mining town, Coalville was a pretty place
and Harry felt that he would be satisfied to reside there, so after
deliberating awhile, he went to the officials of “The Coalville
Building & Loan Association” and told them he wanted a house built on
the building-and-loan plan. The salient feature of this plan is that
the patron is permitted to pay for a house on the installment plan, so
much per month, “just like rent,” as the advertisements say. In due
time, after a certain number of months has elapsed, it is found that he
has “paid out,” and the house is his.
“The money I pay to you each month will be just that much saved,” said
Harry, “and then if ever I do want a house to move into, I’ll have it.”
The official nodded and said he was wise, and that it was a very good
way to save money. “And besides, you’ll need the house in due time,”
said one of them with a smile, who knew Harry quite well. “With you
such a good-looking, bright and business-like young man, it could
hardly be otherwise than that some nice girl will bless you for the
foresight that caused you to have a house already built and ready for
occupancy.”
Harry smiled and blushed a little, but took the jovial remark of the
man in good part, then filling in and handing him a check for the
initial payment, he took his departure.
“A bright young fellow, Weston,” said one of the other members of the
Building and Loan Association.
“Indeed he is!” said the one who had teased Harry, “and just full of
business and good, hard common sense besides.”
And now, with a year’s experience in the printing and publishing
business behind him and the future all before him, Harry Weston
started in on the second year of his publishing venture. He had not
failed, but had succeeded instead, because of his industry, integrity,
fair-mindedness, courtesy and various other good qualities. That is
why, also, that he was, at the end of the first year and the beginning
of the second--still in business.
THE END
Transcriber’s Notes
‣ Italics represented with surrounding _underscores_.
‣ Small caps converted to ALL CAPS.
‣ Some illustrations relocated to a relevant paragraph break.
‣ Obvious typographic errors silently corrected.
‣ Variations in hyphenation kept as in the original.
‣ Spelling of Welborn/Welborne standardized to Welborn.