THE OLD FARM.
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��tive employment elsewhere, Charles has determined to make a change. His pres- ent condition seems hopeless; he can be no worse off anywhere, and there is a possibility at least that he can do better in another place. But where shall he go, and how?
He has thought much of the West, and many a time wished himself in Chicago. If he could only reach that great, grow- ing Western city, where there is so much to do and where great fortunes are quick- ly made, it has seemed to him a hundred times that he could find almost any posi- tion he might desire, and that advance- ment and wealth would surely and rapid- ly follow. But all the money he had in the world, after paying his week's board and other necessary bills, would go but a little way toward purchasing even a second-class ticket to Chicago. It would barely be sufficient to take him back to the old home in New Hampshire. Should he return, like the prodigal son, and re- sume his place in the old home circle? They would all gladly welcome him there, he had no doubt, and he would be happy indeed to see them all again, espe- cially the bright-eyed, warm-hearted Nellie, whom he had not ceased to love, though he had sent her no missive of af- fection for so many long months. Once he was almost tempted to go back, and, surrendering his ambitious hopes, re- sume the old round of farm labor. Cer- tainly it was not the mere dread of " drudgery," as he had once termed it, that prevented him from so doing, for he had already learned enough of the out- side world to realize that he could no- where walk on to success through paths of ease and pleasure. His pride came up in the way, and he could not vanquish it. He could not humiliate himself sufficient- ly to go home and admit his mistake and failure. A false pride we may term it, and yet it is the same obstacle which in thousands of cases has stood in the way of human happiness and prosperity. Few among us. indeed, there are who, at some time or other and perhaps very often, have not been influenced to a great- er or less extent by this same sentiment. Again the vision of his ambition came up before him, and he determined to con-
��tinue its pursuit.
To Chicago, then, he is resolved to go, but how to get there is a difficult ques- tion to solve. Some way he will accom- plish his purpose, even if he has to go on foot and earn his bread and lodging on the way by working at the farm-yards, or at any odd jobs he may secure. For- tune, however, favors him for once. Driving down a crowded street in the store wagon, on his way to deliver goods, a day or two later, he sees just ahead an old man who has missed his footing in crossing the street, and fallen to the pave- ment almost under the feet of a pair of horses attached to an omnibus, whose driver has not perceived the fallen man. Springing to the ground in an instant, Charles seizes and stops the horses and assists the old man to his feet. He i3 only slightly bruised, and is soon able to go on his way, which he insists upon do- ing, though Charles urges him in vain to accept his assistance. Thanking Charles warmly for his fortunate aid, he asks his name, and, giving his card in return, in- vites him to call at the Tremont House, where he is stopping, that evening.
"John Austin, Chicago, 111.," was the address which appeared upon the card. All through the day Charles is thinking more of his adventure, of the old man he had assisted, and the city in which he lived, than of his wearisome labor, which, however, he performs with a lighter heart than for many months, for he has a presentiment that some good fortune is in store for him. Through the good offi- ces of a fellow employe, who conseuted to do what was required of him for the balance of the evening, Charles was ena- bled to leave the store at a much earlier hour than usual, and having put himself in as presentable condition as the limits of his plain wardrobe allowed, he was soon i n the way to the Tremont House. Entering the office, he presented the card he had received and asked for him whose name it bore. A waiter was sent to conduct him to Mr. Austin's room. Rapping at the door, a cheerful voice bade him "come in," and, entering, he was most cordially received by the old gentleman to whom he had so luckily been of service. Mr. Austin was about
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