printing office is a very dirty place.  I should be afraid of soiling
my clothes."

"Especially that stunning cravat."

"Do you like it?  I flatter myself it's something a little extra,"
said Fitz, who was always gratified by a compliment to his cravats.

"Then you won't go?"

"I haven't the slightest curiosity about such a place, I assure you."

"Then I shall have to go alone.  Let me know when you are ready to
receive me, Harry."

"I won't forget, Oscar."

"I wonder he allows such a low fellow to call him by his first name,"
thought Fitz.  "Really, he has no proper pride."

"Well," he said, rising, "I must be going."

"What's your hurry, Fitz?"

"I've got to write a letter home this evening.  Besides, I haven't
finished my Greek.  Good-evening, Oscar."

"Good-evening, Fitz."

"Good-evening, Mr. Fletcher," said Harry.

"Evening!" ejaculated Fitz, briefly; and without a look at the low
"printer-boy," he closed the door and went down stairs.




CHAPTER VI.

OSCAR BECOMES A PROFESSOR

"I am afraid your friend won't thank you for introducing me to him,"
said Harry, after Fitz had left the room.

"Fitz is a snob," said Oscar.  "He makes himself ridiculous by
putting on airs, and assuming to be more than he is.  His father is
in a good business, and may be rich--I don't know about that--but
that isn't much to boast of."

"I don't think we shall be very intimate," said Harry, smiling.
"Evidently a printer's apprentice is something very low in his eyes."

"When you are an influential editor he will be willing to recognize
you.  Let that stimulate your ambition."

"It isn't easy for a half-educated boy to rise to such a position.  I
feel that I know very little."

"If I can help you any, Harry, I shall be very glad to do it.  I'm
not much of a scholar, but I can help you a little.  For instance, if
you wanted to learn French, I could hear your lessons, and correct
your exercises."

"Will you?" said Harry, eagerly.  "There is nothing I should like
better."

"Then I'll tell you what I'll do.  You shall buy a French grammar,
and come to my room two evenings a week, and recite what you get time
to study at home."

"Won't it give you a great deal of trouble, Oscar?"

"Not a bit of it; I shall rather like it.  Until you can buy a
grammar, I will lend you mine.  I'll set you a lesson out of it now."

He took from the book-shelves a French grammar, and inviting Harry to
sit down beside him, gave him some necessary explanations as to the
pronunciation of words according to the first lesson.

"It seems easy," said Harry.  "I can take more than that."

"It is the easiest of the modern languages, to us at least, on
account of its having so many words similar to ours."

"What evening shall I come, Oscar?"

"Tuesday and Friday will suit me as well as any.  And remember,
Harry, I mean to be very strict in discipline.  And, by the way, how
will it do to call myself Professor?"

"I'll call you Professor if you want me to."

"We'll leave all high titles to Fitz, and I won't use the rod any
oftener than it is absolutely necessary."

"All right, Professor Vincent," said Harry laughing, "I'll endeavor
to behave with propriety."

"I wonder what they would say at home," said Oscar, "if they knew I
had taken up the profession of teacher.  Strange as it may seem to
you, Harry, I have the reputation in the home-circle of being
decidedly lazy.  How do you account for it?"

"Great men are seldom appreciated."

"You hit the nail on the head that time--glad I am not the nail, by
the way.  Henceforth I will submit with resignation to injustice and
misconstruction, since I am only meeting with the common fate of
great men."

"What time is it, Oscar?"

"Nearly ten."

"Then I will bid you good-night," and Harry rose to go.  "I can't
tell how much I am obliged to you for your kind offer."

"Just postpone thanks till you find out whether I am a good teacher
or not."

"I am sure of that."

"I am not so sure, but I will do what I can for you.  Good-night.
I'll expect you Friday evening.  I shall see Fitz to-morrow.  Shall I
give him your love?"

"Never mind!" said Harry, smiling.  "I'm afraid it wouldn't be
appreciated."

"Perhaps not."

As Harry left his lively companion, he felt that he had been most
fortunate in securing his friendship--not only that he found him very
agreeable and attractive, but he was likely to be of great use to him
in promoting his plans of self-education.  He had too much good sense
not to perceive that the only chance he had of rising to an
influential position lay in qualifying himself for it, by enlarging
his limited knowledge and improving his mind.

"I have made a good beginning," he thought.  "After I have learned
something of French, I will take up Latin, and I think Oscar will be
willing to help me in that too."

The next morning he commenced work in the printing office.  With a
few hints from Ferguson, he soon comprehended what he had to do, and
made very rapid progress.

"You're getting on fast, Harry," said Ferguson approvingly.

"I like it," said our hero.  "I am glad I decided to be a printer."

"I wish I wasn't one," grumbled Clapp, the younger journeyman.

"Don't you like it?"

"Not much.  It's hard work and poor pay.  I just wish I was in my
brother's shoes.  He is a bookkeeper in Boston, with a salary of
twelve hundred a year, while I am plodding along on fifteen dollars
week."

"You may do better some day," said Ferguson.

"Don't see any chance of it."

"If I were in your place, I would save up part of my salary, and by
and by have an office, and perhaps a paper of my own."

"Why don't you do it, then?" sneered Clapp.

"Because I have a family to support from my earnings--you have only
yourself."

"It doesn't help me any; I can't save anything out of fifteen dollars
a week."

"You mean you won't," said Ferguson quietly.

"No I don't.  I mean I can't."

"How do you expect I get along, then?  I have a wife and two children
to support, and only get two dollars a week more than you."

"Perhaps you get into debt."

"No; I owe no man a dollar," said Ferguson emphatically.  "That isn't
all.  I save two dollars a week; so that I actually support four on
fifteen dollars a week--your salary.  What do you say to that?"

"I don't want to be mean," said Clapp.

"Nor I.  I mean to live comfortably, but of course I have to be
economical."

"Oh, hang economy!" said Clapp impatiently.  "The old man used to
lecture me about economy till I got sick of hearing the word."

"It is a good thing, for all that," persisted Ferguson.  "You'll
think so some day, even if you don't now."

"I guess you mean to run opposition to young Franklin, over there,"
sneered Clapp, indicating Harry, who had listened to the discussion
with not a little interest.

"I think he and I will agree together pretty well," said Ferguson,
smiling.  "Franklin's a good man to imitate."

"If there are going to be two Franklins in the office, it will be
time for me to clear out," returned Clapp.

"You can do better."

"How is that?"

"Become Franklin No. 3."

"You don't catch me imitating any old fogy like that.  As far as I
know anything about him, he was a mean, stingy old curmudgeon!"
exclaimed Clapp with irritation.

"That's rather strong language, Clapp," said Mr. Anderson, looking up
from his desk with a smile.  "It doesn't correspond with the general
estimate of Franklin's character."

"I don't care," said Clapp doggedly, "I wouldn't be like Franklin if
I could.  I have too much self-respect."

Ferguson laughed, and Harry wanted to, but feared he should offend
the younger journeyman, who evidently had worked himself into a bad
humor.

"I don't think you're in any danger," said Ferguson, who did not mind
his fellow-workman's little ebullitions of temper.

Clapp scowled, but did not deign to reply, partly, perhaps, because
he knew that there was nothing to say.

From the outset Ferguson took a fancy to the young apprentice.

"He's got good, solid ideas," said he to Mr. Anderson, when Harry was
absent.  "He isn't so thoughtless as most boys of his age.  He looks
ahead."

"I think you are right in your judgment of him," said Mr. Anderson.
"He promises to be a faithful workman."

"He promises more than that," said Ferguson.  "Mark my words, Mr.
Anderson; that boy is going to make his mark some day."

"It is a little too soon to say that, isn't it?"

"No; I judge from what I see.  He is industrious and ambitious, and
is bound to succeed.  The world will hear of him yet."

Mr. Anderson smiled.  He liked what he had seen of his new
apprentice, but he thought Ferguson altogether too sanguine.

"He's a good, faithful boy," he admitted, "but it takes more than
that to rise to distinction.  If all the smart boys turned out smart
men, they'd be a drug in the market."

But Ferguson held to his own opinion, notwithstanding.  Time will
show which was right.

The next day Ferguson said, "Harry, come round to my house, and take
tea to-night.  I've spoken to my wife about you, and she wants to see
you."

"Thank you, Mr. Ferguson," said Harry.  "I shall be very glad to
come."

"I'll wait till you are ready, and you can walk along with me."

"All right; I will be ready in five minutes."

They set out together for Ferguson's modest home, which was about
half a mile distant.  As they passed up the village street Harry's
attention was drawn to two boys who were approaching them.  One he
recognized at once as Fitzgerald Fletcher.  He had an even more
stunning necktie than when Harry first met him, and sported a jaunty
little cane, which he swung in his neatly gloved hand.

"I wonder if he'll notice me," thought Harry.  "At any rate, I won't
be wanting in politeness."

"Good-afternoon, Mr. Fletcher," he said, as they met.

Fitzgerald stared at him superciliously, and made the slightest
possible nod.

"Who is that?" asked Ferguson.

"It is a boy who has great contempt for printers' devils and low
apprentices," answered Harry.  "I was introduced to him two evenings
ago, but he evidently doesn't care about keeping up the acquaintance."

"Who is that, Fitz?" asked his companion in turn.

"It's a low fellow--a printer's devil," answered Fitz, shortly.

"How do you happen to know him?"

"Oscar Vincent introduced him to me.  Oscar's a queer fellow.  He
belongs to one of the first families in Boston--one of my set, you
know, and yet he actually invited that boy to his room."

"He's rather a good-looking boy--the printer."

"Think so?" drawled Fitz.  "He's low--all apprentices are.  I mean to
keep him at a distance."




CHAPTER VII.

A PLEASANT EVENING.

"This is my house," said Ferguson, pausing at the gate.

Harry looked at it with interest.

It was a cottage, containing four rooms, and a kitchen in the ell
part.  There was a plot of about a quarter of an acre connected with
it.  Everything about it was neat, though very unpretentious.

"It isn't a palace," said Ferguson, "but," he added cheerfully, "it's
a happy home, and from all I've read, that is more than can be said
of some palaces.  Step right in and make yourself at home."

They entered a tiny entry, and Mrs. Ferguson opened the door of the
sitting-room.  She was a pleasant-looking woman, and her face wore a
smile st welcome.

"Hannah," said Ferguson, "this is our new apprentice, Harry Walton."

"I am glad to see you," she said, offering her hand.  "My husband has
spoken of you.  You are quite welcome, if you can put up with humble
fare."

"That is what I have always been accustomed to," said Harry,
beginning to feel quite at home.

"Where are the children, Hannah?"

Two children, a boy and a girl, of six and four years respectively,
bounded into the room and answered for themselves.  They looked shyly
at Harry, but before many minutes their shyness had worn off, and the
little girl was sitting on his knee, while the boy stood beside him.
Harry was fond of children, and readily adapted himself to his young
acquaintances.

Supper was soon ready--a plain meal, but one that Harry enjoyed.  He
could not help comparing Ferguson's plain, but pleasant home, with
Clapp's mode of life.

The latter spent on himself as much as sufficed his fellow-workman to
support a wife and two children, yet it was easy to see which found
the best enjoyment in life.

"How do you like your new business?" asked Mrs. Ferguson, as she
handed Harry a cup of tea.

"I like all but the name," said our hero, smiling.

"I wonder how the name came to be applied to a printer's apprentice
any more than to any other apprentice," said Mrs. Ferguson.

"I never heard," said her husband.  "It seems to me to be a libel
upon our trade.  But there is one comfort.  If you stick to the
business, you'll outgrow the name."

"That is lucky; I shouldn't like to be called the wife of a ----.  I
won't pronounce the word lest the children should catch it."

"What is it, mother?" asked Willie, with his mouth full.

"It isn't necessary for you to know, my boy."

"Do you know Mr. Clapp?" asked Harry.

"I have seen him, but never spoke with him."

"I never asked him round to tea," said Ferguson.

"I don't think he would enjoy it any better than I.  His tastes are
very different from mine, and his views of life are equally
different."

"I should think so," said Harry.

"Now I think you and I would agree very well.  Clapp dislikes the
business, and only sticks to it because he must get his living in
some way.  As for me, if I had a sum of money, say five thousand
dollars, I would still remain a printer, but in that case I would
probably buy out a paper, or start one, and be a publisher, as well
as a printer."

"That's just what I should like," said Harry.

"Who knows but we may be able to go into partnership some day, and
carry out our plan."

"I would like it," said Harry; "but I am afraid it will be a good
while before we can raise the five thousand dollars."

"We don't need as much.  Mr. Anderson started on a capital of a
thousand dollars, and now he is in comfortable circumstances."

"Then there's hopes for us."

"At any rate I cherish hopes of doing better some day.  I shouldn't
like always to be a journeyman.  I manage to save up a hundred
dollars a year.  How much have we in the savings bank, Hannah?"

"Between four and five hundred dollars, with interest."

"It has taken me four years to save it up.  In five more, if nothing
happens, I should be worth a thousand dollars.  Journeymen printers
don't get rich very fast."

"I hope to have saved up something myself, in five years," said Harry.

"Then our plan may come to pass, after all.  You shall be editor, and
I publisher."

"I should think you would prefer to be an editor," said his wife.

"I am diffident of my powers in the line of composition," said
Ferguson.  "I shouldn't be afraid to undertake local items, but when
it comes to an elaborate editorial, I should rather leave it in other
hands."

"I always liked writing," said Harry.  "Of course I have only had a
school-boy's practice, but I mean to practise more in my leisure
hours."

"Suppose you write a poem for the 'Gazette,' Walton."

Harry smiled.

"I am not ambitious enough for that," he replied.  "I will try plain
prose."

"Do so," said Ferguson, earnestly.  "Our plan may come to something
after all, if we wait patiently.  It will do no harm to prepare
yourself as well as you can.  After a while you might write something
for the 'Gazette.'  I think Mr. Anderson would put it in."

"Shall I sign it P. D.?" asked Harry.

"P. D. stands for Doctor of Philosophy."

"I don't aspire to such a learned title.  P. D. also stands for
Printer's Devil."

"I see.  Well, joking aside, I advise you to improve yourself in
writing."

"I will.  That is the way Franklin did."

"I remember.  He wrote an article, and slipped it under the door of
the printing office, not caring to have it known that he was the
author."

"Shall I give you a piece of pie, Mr. Walton?" said Mrs. Ferguson.

"Thank you.".

"Me too," said Willie, extending his plate.

"Willie is always fond of pie," said his father, "In a printing
office _pi_ is not such a favorite."

When supper was over, Mr. Ferguson showed Harry a small collection of
books, about twenty-five in number, neatly arranged on shelves.

"It isn't much of a library," he said, "but a few books are better
than none.  I should like to buy as many every year; but books are
expensive, and the outlay would make too great an inroad upon my
small surplus."

"I always thought I should like a library," said Harry, "but my
father is very poor, and has fewer books than you.  As for me, I have
but one book besides the school-books I studied, and that I gained as
a school prize--The Life of Franklin."

"If one has few books he is apt to prize them more," said Ferguson,
"and is apt to profit by them more."

"Have you read the History of China?" asked Harry, who had been
looking over his friend's books.

"No; I have never seen it."

"Why, there it is," said our hero, "In two volumes."

"Take it down," said Ferguson, laughing.

Harry did so, and to his surprise it opened in his hands, and
revealed a checker-board.

"You see appearances are deceitful.  Can you play checkers?"

"I never tried."

"You will easily learn.  Shall I teach you the game?"

"I wish you would."

They sat down; and Harry soon became interested in the game, which
requires a certain degree of thought and foresight.

"You will make a good player after a while," said his companion.
"You must come in often and play with me."

"Thank you, I should like to do so.  It may not be often, for I am
taking lessons in French, and I want to get on as fast as possible."

"I did not know there was any one in the village who gave lessons in
French."

"Oh, he's not a professional teacher.  Oscar Vincent, one of the
Academy boys, is teaching me.  I am to take two lessons a week, on
Tuesday and Friday evenings."

"Indeed, that is a good arrangement.  How did it come about?"

Harry related the particulars of his meeting with Oscar.

"He's a capital fellow," he concluded.  "Very different from another
boy I met in his room.  I pointed him out to you in the street.
Oscar seems to be rich, but he doesn't put on any airs, and he
treated me very kindly."

"That is to his credit.  It's the sham aristocrats that put on most
airs.   I believe you will make somebody, Walton.  You have lost no
time in getting to work."

"I have no time to lose.  I wish I was in Oscar's place.  He is
preparing for Harvard, and has nothing to do but to learn."

"I heard a lecturer once who said that the printing office is the
poor man's college, and he gave a great many instances of printers
who had risen high in the world, particularly in our own country."

"Well, that is encouraging.  I should like to have heard the lecture."

"I begin to think, Harry, that I should have done well to follow your
example.  When I was in your position, I might have studied too, but
I didn't realize the importance as I do now.  I read some useful
books, to be sure, but that isn't like studying."

"It isn't too late now."

Ferguson shook his head.

"Now I have a wife and children," he said.  "I am away from them
during the day, and the evening I like to pass socially with them."

"Perhaps you would like to be divorced," said his wife, smiling.
"Then you would get time for study."

"I doubt if that would make me as happy, Hannah.  I am not ready to
part with you just yet.  But our young friend here is not quite old
enough to be married, and there is nothing to prevent his pursuing
his studies.  So, Harry, go on, and prepare yourself for your
editorial duties."

Harry smiled thoughtfully.  For the first time he had formed definite
plans for his future.  Why should not Ferguson's plans be realized?

"If I live long enough," he said to himself, "I will be an editor,
and exert some influence in the world."

At ten o'clock he bade good-night to Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson, feeling
that he had passed a pleasant and what might prove a profitable
evening.




CHAPTER VIII.

FLETCHER'S VIEWS ON SOCIAL POSITION.

"You are getting on finely, Harry," said Oscar Vincent, a fortnight
later.  "You do credit to my teaching.  As you have been over all the
regular verbs now, I will give you a lesson in translating."

"I shall find that interesting," said Harry, with satisfaction.

"Here is a French Reader," said Oscar, taking one down from the
shelves.  "It has a dictionary at the end.  I won't give you a
lesson.  You may take as much as you have time for, and at the same