Risen from the Ranks: Harry Walton's Success

Harry becomes an author.

The closing of the Academy made quite a difference in the life of Centreville.  The number of boarding scholars was about thirty, and these, though few in number, were often seen in the street and at the postoffice, and their withdrawal left a vacancy.  Harry Walton felt quite lonely at first; but there is no cure for loneliness like occupation, and he had plenty of that.  The greater part of the day was spent in the printing office, while his evenings and early mornings were occupied in study and reading.  He had become very much interested in French, in which he found himself advancing rapidly.  Occasionally he took tea at Mr. Ferguson’s, and this he always enjoyed; for, as I have already said, he and Ferguson held very similar views on many important subjects.  One evening, at the house of the latter, he saw a file of weekly papers, which proved, on examination, to be back numbers of the “Weekly Standard,” a literary paper issued in Boston.

“I take the paper for my family,” said Ferguson.  “It contains quite a variety of reading matter, stories, sketches and essays.”

“It seems quite interesting,” said Harry.

“Yes, it is.  I will lend you some of the back numbers, if you like.”

“I would like it.  My father never took a literary paper; his means were so limited that he could not afford it.”

“I think it is a good investment.  There are few papers from which you cannot obtain in a year more than the worth of the subscription.  Besides, if you are going to be an editor, it will be useful for you to become familiar with the manner in which such papers are conducted.”

When Harry went home he took a dozen copies of the paper, and sat up late reading them.  While thus engaged an idea struck him.  It was this:  Could not he write something which would be accepted for publication in the “Standard”?  It was his great ambition to learn to write for the press, and he felt that he was old enough to commence.

“If I don’t succeed the first time, I can try again,” he reflected.

The more he thought of it, the more he liked the plan.  It is very possible that he was influenced by the example of Franklin, who, while yet a boy in his teens, contributed articles to his brother’s paper though at the time the authorship was not suspected.  Finally he decided to commence writing as soon as he could think of a suitable subject.  This he found was not easy.  He could think of plenty of subjects of which he was not qualified to write, or in which he felt little interest; but he rightly decided that he could succeed better with something that had a bearing upon his own experience or hopes for the future.

Finally he decided to write on Ambition.

I do not propose to introduce Harry’s essay in these pages, but will give a general idea of it, as tending to show his views of life.

He began by defining ambition as a desire for superiority, by which most men were more or less affected, though it manifested itself in very different ways, according to the character of him with whom it was found.  Here I will quote a passage, as a specimen of Harry’s style and mode of expression.

“There are some who denounce ambition as wholly bad and to be avoided by all; but I think we ought to make a distinction between true and false ambition.  The desire of superiority is an honorable motive, if it leads to honorable exertion.  I will mention Napoleon as an illustration of false ambition, which is selfish in itself, and has brought misery and ruin, to prosperous nations.  Again, there are some who are ambitious to dress better than their neighbors, and their principal thoughts are centred upon the tie of their cravat, or the cut of their coat, if young men; or upon the richness and style of their dresses, if they belong to the other sex.  Beau Brummel is a noted instance of this kind of ambition.  It is said that fully half of his time was devoted to his toilet, and the other half to displaying it in the streets, or in society.  Now this is a very low form of ambition, and it is wrong to indulge it, because it is a waste of time which could be much better employed.”

Harry now proceeded to describe what he regarded as a true and praiseworthy ambition.  He defined it as a desire to excel in what would be of service to the human race, and he instanced his old Franklin, who, induced by an honorable ambition, worked his way up to a high civil station, as well as a commanding position in the scientific world.  He mentioned Columbus as ambitious to extend the limits of geographical knowledge, and made a brief reference to the difficulties and discouragements over which he triumphed on the way to success.  He closed by an appeal to boys and young men to direct their ambition into worthy channels, so that even if they could not leave behind a great name, they might at least lead useful lives, and in dying have the satisfaction of thinking that they done some service to the race.

This will give a very fair idea of Harry’s essay.  There was nothing remarkable about it, and no striking originality in the ideas, but it was very creditably expressed for a boy of his years, and did even more credit to his good judgment, since it was an unfolding of the principles by which he meant to guide his own life.

It must not be supposed that our hero was a genius, and that he wrote his essay without difficulty.  It occupied him two evenings to write it, and he employed the third in revising and copying it.  It covered about five pages of manuscript, and, according to his estimate, would fill about two-thirds of a long column in the “Standard.”

After preparing it, the next thing was to find a nom de plume, for he shrank from signing his own name.  After long consideration, he at last decided upon Franklin, and this was the name he signed to his maiden contribution to the press.

He carried it to the post-office one afternoon, after his work in the printing office was over, and dropped it unobserved into the letter-box.  He did not want the postmaster to learn his secret, as he would have done had he received it directly from him, and noted the address on the envelope.

For the rest of the week, Harry went about his work weighed down with his important secret—­a secret which he had not even shared with Ferguson.  If the essay was declined, as he thought it might very possibly be, he did not want any one to know it.  If it were accepted, and printed, it would be time enough then to make it known.  But there were few minutes in which his mind was not on his literary venture.  His preoccupation was observed by his fellow-workmen in the office, and he was rallied upon it, good-naturedly, by Ferguson, but in a different spirit by Clapp.

“It seems to me you are unusually silent, Harry,” said Ferguson.  “You’re not in love, are you?”

“Not that I know of,” said Harry, smiling.  “It’s rather too early yet.”

“I’ve known boys of your age to fancy themselves in love.”

“He is is more likely thinking up some great discovery,” said Clapp, sneering.  “You know he’s a second Franklin.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” said our hero, good-humoredly, “but I don’t deserve it.  I don’t expect to make any great discovery at present.”

“I suppose you expect to set the river on fire, some day,” said Clapp, sarcastically.

“I am afraid it wouldn’t do much good to try,” said Harry, who was too sensible to take offence.  “It isn’t so easily done.”

“I suppose some day we shall be proud of having been in the same office with so great a man,” pursued Clapp.

“Really, Clapp, you’re rather hard on our young friend,” said Ferguson.  “He doesn’t put on any airs of superiority, or pretend to anything uncommon.”

“He’s very kind—­such an intellect as he’s got, too!” said Clapp.

“I’m glad you found it out,” said Harry.  “I haven’t a very high idea of my intellect yet.  I wish I had more reason to do so.”

Finding that he had failed in his attempt to provoke Harry by his ridicule, Clapp desisted, but he disliked him none the less.

The fact was, that Clapp was getting into a bad way.  He had no high aim in life, and cared chiefly for the pleasure of the present moment.  He had found Luke Harrison a congenial companion, and they had been associated in more than one excess.  The morning previous, Clapp had entered the printing office so evidently under the influence of liquor, that he had been sharply reprimanded by Mr. Anderson.

“I don’t choose to interfere with your mode of life, unwise and ruinous as I may consider it,” he said, “as long as it does not interfere with your discharge of duty.  But to-day you are clearly incapacitated for labor, and I have a right to complain.  If it happens again, I shall be obliged to look for another journeyman.”

Clapp did not care to leave his place just at present, for he had no money saved up, and was even somewhat in debt, and it might be some time before he got another place.  So he rather sullenly agreed to be more careful in future, and did not go to work till the afternoon.  But though circumstances compelled him to submit, it put him in bad humor, and made him more disposed to sneer than ever.  He had an unreasoning prejudice against Harry, which was stimulated by Luke Harrison, who had this very sufficient reason for hating our hero, that he had succeeded in injuring him.  As an old proverb has it “We are slow to forgive those whom we have injured.”