By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti WarHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
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By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti War
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Ashanti war, 1873-1874 -- Juvenile fiction
A difficult question indeed, for a boy of fifteen, with but twenty-five
pounds, and without a friend in the world. Was he, indeed, without a
friend? he asked himself. There was Dr. Parker. Should he apply to him?
But the doctor had started for a trip on the Continent the day after
the school had broken up, and would not return for six weeks. It was
possible that, had he been at home, he might have offered to keep Frank
for a while; but the boys seldom stayed at his school past the age
of fifteen, going elsewhere to have their education completed. What
possible claim had he to quarter himself upon the doctor for the next
four years, even were the offer made? No, Frank felt; he could not live
upon the doctor's charity. Then there were the parents of the boys he
had saved from drowning. But even as he sat alone Frank's face flushed
at the thought of trading upon services so rendered. The boy's chief
fault was pride. It was no petty feeling, and he had felt no shame at
being poorer than the rest of his schoolfellows. It was rather a pride
which led him unduly to rely upon himself, and to shrink from accepting
favors from any one. Frank might well, without any derogation, have
written to his friends, telling them of the loss he had suffered and the
necessity there was for him to earn his living, and asking them to beg
their fathers to use their interest to procure him a situation as a boy
clerk, or any other position in which he could earn his livelihood.
Frank, however, shrunk from making any such appeal, and determined
to fight his battle without asking for help. He knew nothing of his
parents' relations. His father was an only son, who had been left early
an orphan. His mother, too, had, he was aware, lost both her parents,
and he had never heard her speak of other relations. There was no one,
therefore, so far as he knew, to whom he could appeal on the ground of
ties of blood. It must be said for him that he had no idea how hard was
the task which he was undertaking. It seemed to him that it must be easy
for a strong, active lad to find employment of some sort in London. What
the employment might be he cared little for. He had no pride of that
kind, and so that he could earn his bread he cared not much in what
capacity he might do it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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