A PLEASANT EVENING.
"This is my house," said Ferguson, pausing at the gate.
Harry looked at it with interest.
It was a cottage, containing four rooms, and a kitchen in the ell
part. There was a plot of about a quarter of an acre connected with
it. Everything about it was neat, though very unpretentious.
"It isn't a palace," said Ferguson, "but," he added cheerfully, "it's
a happy home, and from all I've read, that is more than can be said
of some palaces. Step right in and make yourself at home."
They entered a tiny entry, and Mrs. Ferguson opened the door of the
sitting-room. She was a pleasant-looking woman, and her face wore a
smile st welcome.
"Hannah," said Ferguson, "this is our new apprentice, Harry Walton."
"I am glad to see you," she said, offering her hand. "My husband has
spoken of you. You are quite welcome, if you can put up with humble
fare."
"That is what I have always been accustomed to," said Harry,
beginning to feel quite at home.
"Where are the children, Hannah?"
Two children, a boy and a girl, of six and four years respectively,
bounded into the room and answered for themselves. They looked shyly
at Harry, but before many minutes their shyness had worn off, and the
little girl was sitting on his knee, while the boy stood beside him.
Harry was fond of children, and readily adapted himself to his young
acquaintances.
Supper was soon ready--a plain meal, but one that Harry enjoyed. He
could not help comparing Ferguson's plain, but pleasant home, with
Clapp's mode of life.
The latter spent on himself as much as sufficed his fellow-workman to
support a wife and two children, yet it was easy to see which found
the best enjoyment in life.
"How do you like your new business?" asked Mrs. Ferguson, as she
handed Harry a cup of tea.
"I like all but the name," said our hero, smiling.
"I wonder how the name came to be applied to a printer's apprentice
any more than to any other apprentice," said Mrs. Ferguson.
"I never heard," said her husband. "It seems to me to be a libel
upon our trade. But there is one comfort. If you stick to the
business, you'll outgrow the name."
"That is lucky; I shouldn't like to be called the wife of a ----. I
won't pronounce the word lest the children should catch it."
"What is it, mother?" asked Willie, with his mouth full.
"It isn't necessary for you to know, my boy."
"Do you know Mr. Clapp?" asked Harry.
"I have seen him, but never spoke with him."
"I never asked him round to tea," said Ferguson.
"I don't think he would enjoy it any better than I. His tastes are
very different from mine, and his views of life are equally
different."
"I should think so," said Harry.
"Now I think you and I would agree very well. Clapp dislikes the
business, and only sticks to it because he must get his living in
some way. As for me, if I had a sum of money, say five thousand
dollars, I would still remain a printer, but in that case I would
probably buy out a paper, or start one, and be a publisher, as well
as a printer."
"That's just what I should like," said Harry.
"Who knows but we may be able to go into partnership some day, and
carry out our plan."
"I would like it," said Harry; "but I am afraid it will be a good
while before we can raise the five thousand dollars."
"We don't need as much. Mr. Anderson started on a capital of a
thousand dollars, and now he is in comfortable circumstances."
"Then there's hopes for us."
"At any rate I cherish hopes of doing better some day. I shouldn't
like always to be a journeyman. I manage to save up a hundred
dollars a year. How much have we in the savings bank, Hannah?"
"Between four and five hundred dollars, with interest."
"It has taken me four years to save it up. In five more, if nothing
happens, I should be worth a thousand dollars. Journeymen printers
don't get rich very fast."
"I hope to have saved up something myself, in five years," said Harry.
"Then our plan may come to pass, after all. You shall be editor, and
I publisher."
"I should think you would prefer to be an editor," said his wife.
"I am diffident of my powers in the line of composition," said
Ferguson. "I shouldn't be afraid to undertake local items, but when
it comes to an elaborate editorial, I should rather leave it in other
hands."
"I always liked writing," said Harry. "Of course I have only had a
school-boy's practice, but I mean to practise more in my leisure
hours."
"Suppose you write a poem for the 'Gazette,' Walton."
Harry smiled.
"I am not ambitious enough for that," he replied. "I will try plain
prose."
"Do so," said Ferguson, earnestly. "Our plan may come to something
after all, if we wait patiently. It will do no harm to prepare
yourself as well as you can. After a while you might write something
for the 'Gazette.' I think Mr. Anderson would put it in."
"Shall I sign it P. D.?" asked Harry.
"P. D. stands for Doctor of Philosophy."
"I don't aspire to such a learned title. P. D. also stands for
Printer's Devil."
"I see. Well, joking aside, I advise you to improve yourself in
writing."
"I will. That is the way Franklin did."
"I remember. He wrote an article, and slipped it under the door of
the printing office, not caring to have it known that he was the
author."
"Shall I give you a piece of pie, Mr. Walton?" said Mrs. Ferguson.
"Thank you.".
"Me too," said Willie, extending his plate.
"Willie is always fond of pie," said his father, "In a printing
office _pi_ is not such a favorite."
When supper was over, Mr. Ferguson showed Harry a small collection of
books, about twenty-five in number, neatly arranged on shelves.
"It isn't much of a library," he said, "but a few books are better
than none. I should like to buy as many every year; but books are
expensive, and the outlay would make too great an inroad upon my
small surplus."
"I always thought I should like a library," said Harry, "but my
father is very poor, and has fewer books than you. As for me, I have
but one book besides the school-books I studied, and that I gained as
a school prize--The Life of Franklin."
"If one has few books he is apt to prize them more," said Ferguson,
"and is apt to profit by them more."
"Have you read the History of China?" asked Harry, who had been
looking over his friend's books.
"No; I have never seen it."
"Why, there it is," said our hero, "In two volumes."
"Take it down," said Ferguson, laughing.
Harry did so, and to his surprise it opened in his hands, and
revealed a checker-board.
"You see appearances are deceitful. Can you play checkers?"
"I never tried."
"You will easily learn. Shall I teach you the game?"
"I wish you would."
They sat down; and Harry soon became interested in the game, which
requires a certain degree of thought and foresight.
"You will make a good player after a while," said his companion.
"You must come in often and play with me."
"Thank you, I should like to do so. It may not be often, for I am
taking lessons in French, and I want to get on as fast as possible."
"I did not know there was any one in the village who gave lessons in
French."
"Oh, he's not a professional teacher. Oscar Vincent, one of the
Academy boys, is teaching me. I am to take two lessons a week, on
Tuesday and Friday evenings."
"Indeed, that is a good arrangement. How did it come about?"
Harry related the particulars of his meeting with Oscar.
"He's a capital fellow," he concluded. "Very different from another
boy I met in his room. I pointed him out to you in the street.
Oscar seems to be rich, but he doesn't put on any airs, and he
treated me very kindly."
"That is to his credit. It's the sham aristocrats that put on most
airs. I believe you will make somebody, Walton. You have lost no
time in getting to work."
"I have no time to lose. I wish I was in Oscar's place. He is
preparing for Harvard, and has nothing to do but to learn."
"I heard a lecturer once who said that the printing office is the
poor man's college, and he gave a great many instances of printers
who had risen high in the world, particularly in our own country."
"Well, that is encouraging. I should like to have heard the lecture."
"I begin to think, Harry, that I should have done well to follow your
example. When I was in your position, I might have studied too, but
I didn't realize the importance as I do now. I read some useful
books, to be sure, but that isn't like studying."
"It isn't too late now."
Ferguson shook his head.
"Now I have a wife and children," he said. "I am away from them
during the day, and the evening I like to pass socially with them."
"Perhaps you would like to be divorced," said his wife, smiling.
"Then you would get time for study."
"I doubt if that would make me as happy, Hannah. I am not ready to
part with you just yet. But our young friend here is not quite old
enough to be married, and there is nothing to prevent his pursuing
his studies. So, Harry, go on, and prepare yourself for your
editorial duties."
Harry smiled thoughtfully. For the first time he had formed definite
plans for his future. Why should not Ferguson's plans be realized?
"If I live long enough," he said to himself, "I will be an editor,
and exert some influence in the world."
At ten o'clock he bade good-night to Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson, feeling
that he had passed a pleasant and what might prove a profitable
evening.