In penning this tale the author has endeavored to show the difference between life in a quiet country place and in a great bustling city, and especially as that difference shows itself to the eyes of a country boy. Many country lads imagine that to go to the city and win success there is easy; perhaps they will not think it so easy after they have read of what happened to Nat Nason. More than once, in spite of his grit and courage, Nat came close to making a complete failure of what he had started out to do, and his success in the end was perhaps after all not as great as he had anticipated when first striking out. FROM FARM TO FORTUNE CHAPTER I NAT ON THE FARM "Nat, where have you been?" "Been fishing," answered the boy addressed, a sturdy youth of sixteen, with clear blue eyes and sandy hair. "Fishin'? And who said you could go fishin'?" demanded Abner Balberry, in his high, nervous voice. "Nobody said I could go," answered the boy, firmly. "But I thought you'd all like to have some fish for supper, so I went." "Humph! I suppose you thought as how them taters would hoe themselves, eh?" sneered Abner Balberry, who was not only Nat's uncle, but also his guardian. "I hoed the potatoes," was the boy's answer. "Got through at half-past two o'clock." "If you got through so soon you didn't half do the job," grumbled the man. "I ain't goin' to have you wastin' your time on no fishin', understand?" "Can't I go fishing at all?" "Not when there is work to do on this farm." "But I did my work, Uncle Abner." "An' I say it couldn't have been done right if ye didn't take proper time fer it, Nat Nason! I know you! You are gittin' lazy!" "I'm not lazy!" cried the boy, indignantly. "I work as hard as anybody around here." "Don't you talk back to me!" ejaculated Abner Balberry. "I say you are lazy, an' I know. How many fish did ye catch?" "I only got two. They didn't bite very well to-day." "Humph! A-wastin' three hours an' more jest to catch two little fish! If I let you go your own way, Nat Nason, you'll be in the poorhouse before you die." "I don't think I'll ever get to the poorhouse, Uncle Abner." "Oh, don't talk back! Take your fish to the kitchen an' then git down to the barnyard as quick as you can. You've got to help me milk to-night. An' don't you dare to go fishin' ag'in, unless I give ye permission," added Abner Balberry, as he strode off towards the barn. A sharp answer arose to Nat Nason's lips, but he checked it and turned toward the kitchen of the farmhouse. "What luck did you have, Nat?" questioned the did woman who was Abner Balberry's housekeeper. "Not much luck, Mrs. Felton. They didn't bite very well to-day." "What was Mr. Balberry saying to you?" went on Mrs. Felton, who had been housekeeper at the place since the death of Mrs. Balberry, two years before. "He was mad because I went fishing." "I am sorry to hear that." "Uncle Abner never wants me to have any sport."