HORACE GREELEY AS A BOY.

Hor-ace Gree-ley was the son of a poor farmer. He was always fond of

books. He learned to read almost as soon as he could talk. He could

read easy books when he was three years old. When he was four, he could

read any book that he could get.

He went to an old-fashioned school. Twice a day all the children stood

up to spell. They were in two classes. Little Hor-ace was in the class

with the grown-up young people. He was the best speller in the class.

It was funny to see the little midget at the head of this class of

older people. But he was only a little boy in his feelings. If he

missed a word, he would cry. The one that spelled a word that he missed

would have a right to take the head of the class. Sometimes when he

missed, the big boys would not take the head. They did not like to make

the little fellow cry. He was the pet of all the school.

People in that day were fond of spelling. They used to hold meetings at

night to spell. They called these “spelling schools.”

At a spelling school two captains were picked out. These chose their

spellers. Then they tried to see which side could beat the other at

spelling.

Little Hor-ace was always chosen first. The side that got him got the

best speller in the school. Sometimes the little fellow would go to

sleep. When it came his turn to spell, some-body would wake him up. He

would rub his eyes, and spell the word. He would spell it right, too.

When he was four or five years old, he would lie under a tree, and

read. He would lie there, and forget all about his dinner or his

supper. He would not move until some-body stumbled over him or called

him.

People had not found out how to burn ker-o-sene oil in lamps then. They

used candles. But poor people like the Gree-leys could not afford to

burn many candles. Hor-ace gathered pine knots to read by at night.

[Illustration: Greeley Reading]

He would light a pine knot Then he would throw it on top of the large

log at the back of the fire. This would make a bright flick-er-ing

light.

Horace would lay all the books he wanted on the hearth. Then he would

lie down by them. His head was toward the fire. His feet were drawn up

out of the way.

The first thing that he did was to study all his lessons for the next

day. Then he would read other books. He never seemed to know when

anybody came or went. He kept on with his reading. His father did not

want him to read too late. He was afraid that he would hurt his eyes.

And he wanted to have him get up early in the morning to help with the

work. So when nine o’clock came, he would call, “Horace, Horace,

Horace!” But it took many callings to rouse him.

When he got to bed, he would say his lessons over to his brother. He

would tell his brother what he had been reading. But his brother would

fall asleep while Horace was talking.

Horace liked to read better than he liked to work. But when he had a

task to do, he did it faith-ful-ly. His brother would say, “Let us go

fishing.” But Horace would answer, “Let us get our work done first.”

Horace Gree-ley’s father grew poorer and poorer. When Horace was ten

years old, his land was sold. The family were now very poor. They moved

from New Hamp-shire. They settled in Ver-mont. They lived in a poor

little cabin.

Horace had to work hard like all the rest of the family. But he

borrowed all the books he could get. Sometimes he walked seven miles to

borrow a book.

A rich man who lived near the Greeleys used to lend books to Horace.

Horace had grown tall. His hair was white. He was poorly dressed. He

was a strange-looking boy. One day he went to the house of the rich man

to borrow books. Some one said to the owner of the house, “Do you lend

books to such a fellow as that?”

But the gen-tle-man said, “That boy will be a great man some day.”

This made all the com-pa-ny laugh. It seemed funny that anybody should

think of this poor boy becoming a great man. But it came true. The poor

white-headed boy came to be a great man.

Horace Greeley learned all that he could learn in the country schools.

When he was thirteen, one teacher said to his father,—

“Mr. Greeley, Horace knows more than I do. It is not of any use to send

him to school any more.”

Stories of Great Americans for Little Americans · 第 54 / 59 题