Driven from Home; Or, Carl Crawford's ExperienceAlger, Horatio, Jr.
General
Driven from Home; Or, Carl Crawford's Experience
Alger, Horatio, Jr.
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Didactic fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Juvenile fiction; Runaway teenagers -- Juvenile fiction
“In undertaking to support yourself?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“At fourteen I was obliged to undertake what you have now before you.”
“To support yourself?”
“Yes; I was left an orphan at fourteen, with no money left me by my poor
father, and no relatives who could help me.”
“How did you make out, sir?” asked Carl, feeling very much interested.
“I sold papers for a while--in Newark, New Jersey--then I got a place at
three dollars a week, out of which I had to pay for board, lodging
and clothes. Well, I won’t go through my history. I will only say that
whatever I did I did as well as I could. I am now a man of about middle
age, and I am moderately wealthy.”
“I am very much encouraged by what you tell me, sir.”
“Perhaps you don’t understand what a hard struggle I had. More than once
I have had to go to bed hungry. Sometimes I have had to sleep out, but
one mustn’t be afraid to rough it a little when he is young. I shouldn’t
like to sleep out now, or go to bed without my supper,” and the little
man laughed softly.
“Yes, sir; I expect to rough it, but if I could only get a situation, at
no matter what income, I should feel encouraged.”
“You have earned no money yet?”
“Yes, sir; I earned a dollar yesterday.”
“At what kind of work?”
“Archery.”
The little man looked surprised.
“Is that a business?” he asked, curiously.
“I’ll explain how it was,” and Carl told about the contest.
“So you hit the mark?” said the little man, significantly.
Somehow, there was something in the little man’s tone that put new
courage into Carl, and incited him to fresh effort.
“I wonder, sir,” he said, after a pause, “that you should be walking,
when you can well afford to ride.”
The little man smiled.
“It is by advice of my physician,” he said. “He tells me I am getting
too stout, and ought to take more or less exercise in the open air. So I
am trying to follow his advice.”
“Are you in business near here, sir?”
“At a large town six miles distant. I may not walk all the way there,
but I have a place to call at near by, and thought I would avail myself
of the good chance offered to take a little exercise. I feel repaid. I
have made a pleasant acquaintance.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“There is my card,” and the little man took out a business card, reading
thus:
HENRY JENNINGS, FURNITURE WAREHOUSE, MILFORD.
“I manufacture my furniture in the country,” he continued, “but I ship
it by special arrangements to a house in New York in which I am also
interested.”
“Yes, sir, I see. Do you employ many persons in your establishment?”
“About thirty.”
“Do you think you could make room for me?”
“Do you think you would like the business?”
“I am prepared to like any business in which I can make a living.”
“That is right. That is the way to look at it. Let me think.”
For two minutes Mr. Jennings seemed to be plunged in thought. Then he
turned and smiled encouragingly.
“You can come home with me,” he said, “and I will consider the matter.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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