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
“That’s very queer.”
“Well, perhaps it is a little singular.”
“Are you a poor boy?”
“I have to earn my own living.”
“I see. You will grow up a common workman.”
“I shall try to rise above it. I am not ashamed of the position, but I
am ambitious to rise.”
“I am going to be a bookkeeper,” said Leonard. “My uncle is going to
teach me. I would rather be a bookkeeper than a factory hand.”
“Then you are right in preparing yourself for such a post.”
Here the two boys separated, as they were to dine in different places.
Leonard was pleased with his new position. He really had very little to
do. Twice a day he went to the post office, once or twice to the bank,
and there was an occasional errand besides. To Carl the idleness would
have been insupportable, but Leonard was naturally indolent. He sat down
in a chair by the window, and watched the people go by.
The first afternoon he was in luck, for there was a dog fight in the
street outside. He seized his hat, went out, and watched the canine
warfare with the deepest interest.
“I think I will buy you a system of bookkeeping,” said his uncle, “and
you can study it in the office.”
“Put it off till next week, Uncle Julius. I want to get rested from the
factory work.”
“It seems to me, Leonard, you were born lazy,” said his uncle, sharply.
“I don’t care to work with my hands.”
“Do you care to work at all?”
“I should like to be a bookkeeper.”
“Do you know that my work is harder and more exhausting than that of a
workman in the factory?”
“You don’t want to exchange with him, do you?” asked Leonard.
“No.”
“That’s where I agree with you.”
Mr. Jennings took several weekly papers. Leonard was looking over the
columns of one of them one day, when he saw the advertisement of a gift
enterprise of a most attractive character. The first prize was a house
and grounds valued at ten thousand dollars. Following were minor prizes,
among them one thousand dollars in gold.
Leonard’s fancy was captivated by the brilliant prospect of such a
prize.
“Price of tickets--only one dollar!” he read. “Think of getting a
thousand dollars for one! Oh, if I could only be the lucky one!”
He took out his purse, though he knew beforehand that his stock of cash
consisted only of two dimes and a nickel.
“I wonder if I could borrow a dollar of that boy Carl!” he deliberated.
“I’ll speak to him about it.”
This happened more than a week after Carl went to work in the factory.
He had already received one week’s pay, and it remained untouched in his
pocket.
Leonard joined him in the street early in the evening, and accosted him
graciously.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Nowhere in particular. I am out for a walk.”
“So am I. Shall we walk together?”
“If you like.”
After talking on indifferent matters, Leonard said suddenly: “Oh, by the
way, will you do me a favor?”
“What is it?”
“Lend me a dollar till next week.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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