IN WHICH BOBBY SETS OUT ON HIS TRAVELS
Squire Lee, though only a plain farmer,
was the richest man in Riverdale. He had taken
a great fancy to Bobby, and often employed him to
do errands, ride the horse to plough in the cornfields,
and such chores about the place as a boy could do.
He liked to talk with Bobby because there was a great
deal of good sense in him, for one with a small head.
If there was any one thing upon which
the squire particularly prided himself, it was his
knowledge of human nature. He declared that he
only wanted to look a man in the face to know what
he was; and as for Bobby Bright, he had summered him
and wintered him, and he was satisfied that he would
make something in good time.
He was not much astonished when Bobby
opened his ambitious scheme of going into business
for himself. But he had full faith in his ability
to work out a useful and profitable, if not a brilliant
life. He often said that Bobby was worth his
weight in gold, and that he would trust him with any
thing he had. Perhaps he did not suspect that
the time was at hand when he would be called upon
to verify his words practically; for it was only that
morning, when one of the neighbors told him about
Bobby’s stopping the horse, that he had repeated
the expression for the twentieth time.
It was not an idle remark. Sixty
dollars was hardly worth mentioning with a man of
his wealth and liberal views, though so careful a man
as he was would not have been likely to throw away
that amount. But as a matter of investment,-Bobby
had made the note read “with interest,”-he
would as readily have let him have it, as the next
richest man in the place, so much confidence had he
in our hero’s integrity, and so sure was he
that he would soon have the means of paying him.
Bobby was overjoyed at the fortunate
issue of his mission, and he walked into the room
where his mother was closing shoes, with a dignity
worthy a banker or a great merchant. Mrs. Bright
was very sad. Perhaps she felt a little grieved
that her son, whom she loved so much, had so thoughtlessly
plunged her into a new difficulty.
“Come, cheer up, mother; it
is all right,” said Bobby in his usual elastic
and gay tones; and at the same time he took the sixty
dollars from his pocket and handed it to her.
“There is the money, and you will be forever
quit of Mr. Hardhand to-morrow.”
“What, Bobby! Why, where
did you get all this money?” asked Mrs. Bright,
utterly astonished.
In a few words the ambitious boy told
his story, and then informed his mother that he was
going to Boston the next Monday morning, to commence
business for himself.
“Why, what can you do, Bobby?”
“Do? I can do a great
many things;” and he unfolded his scheme of
becoming a little book merchant.
“You are a courageous fellow!
Who would have thought of such a thing?”
“I should, and did.”
“But you are not old enough.”
“O, yes, I am.”
“You had better wait a while.”
“Now or never, mother!
You see I have given my note, and my paper will be
dishonored, if I am not up and doing.”
“Your paper!” said Mrs. Bright, with a
smile.
“That is what Mr. Wing, the boot manufacturer,
calls it.”
“You needn’t go away to earn this money;
I can pay it myself.”
“This note is my affair, and
I mean to pay it myself with my own earnings.
No objections, mother.”
Like a sensible woman as she was,
she did not make any objections. She was conscious
of Bobby’s talents; she knew that he had a strong
mind of his own, and could take care of himself.
It is true, she feared the influence of the great
world, and especially of the great city, upon the
tender mind of her son; but if he was never tempted,
he would never be a conqueror over the foes that beset
him.
She determined to do her whole duty
towards him, and she carefully pointed out to him
the sins and the moral danger to which he would be
exposed, and warned him always to resist temptation.
She counselled him to think of her when he felt like
going astray.
Bobby declared that he would try to
be a good boy. He did not speak contemptuously
of the anticipated perils, as many boys would have
done, because he knew that his mother would not make
bugbears out of things which she knew had no real
existence.
The next day, Mr. Hardhand came; and
my young readers can judge how astonished and chagrined
he was, when the widow Bright offered him the sixty
dollars. The Lord was with the widow and the
fatherless, and the wretch was cheated out of his
revenge. The note was given up, and the mortgage
cancelled.
Mr. Hardhand insisted that she should
pay the interest on the sixty dollars for one day,
as it was then the second day of July; but when Bobby
reckoned it up, and found it was less than one cent,
even the wretched miser seemed ashamed of himself,
and changed the subject of conversation.
He did not dare to say any thing saucy
to the widow this time. He had lost his power
over her, and there stood Bobby, who had come to look
just like a young lion to him, coward and knave as
he was.
The business was all settled now,
and Bobby spent the rest of the week in getting ready
for his great enterprise. He visited all his
friends, and went each day to talk with Squire Lee
and Annie. The little maiden promised to buy
a great many books of him, if he would bring his stock
to Riverdale, for she was quite as much interested
in him as her father was.
Monday morning came, and Bobby was
out of bed with the first streak of dawn. The
excitement of the great event which was about to happen
had not permitted him to sleep for the two hours preceding;
yet when he got up, he could not help feeling sad.
He was going to leave the little black house, going
to leave his mother, going to leave the children, to
depart for the great city.
His mother was up before him.
She was even more sad than he was, for she could
see plainer than he the perils that environed him,
and her maternal heart, in spite of the reasonable
confidence she had in his integrity and good principles,
trembled for his safety.
As he ate his breakfast, his mother
repeated the warnings and the good lessons she had
before imparted. She particularly cautioned him
to keep out of bad company. If he found that
his companions would lie and swear, he might depend
upon it they would steal, and he had better forsake
them at once. This was excellent advice, and
Bobby had occasion at a later period to call it to
his sorrowing heart.
“Here is three dollars, Bobby;
it is all the money I have. Your fare to Boston
will be one dollar, and you will have two left to pay
the expenses of your first trip. It is all I
have now,” said Mrs. Bright.
“I will not take the whole of
it. You will want it yourself. One dollar
is enough. When I find Mr. Bayard, I shall do
very well.”
“Yes, Bobby, take the whole of it.”
“I will take just one dollar,
and no more,” replied Bobby, resolutely, as
he handed her the other two dollars.
“Do take it, Bobby.”
“No, mother; it will only make me lazy and indifferent.”
Taking a clean shirt, a pair of socks,
and a handkerchief in his bundle, he was ready for
a start.
“Good by, mother,” said
he, kissing her and taking her hand. “I
shall try and come home on Saturday, so as to be with
you on Sunday.”
Then kissing the children, who had
not yet got up, and to whom he had bidden adieu the
night before, he left the house. He had seen
the flood of tears that filled his mother’s
eyes, as he crossed the threshold; and he could not
help crying a little himself. It is a sad thing
to leave one’s home, one’s mother, especially,
to go out into the great world; and we need not wonder
that Bobby, who had hardly been out of Riverdale before,
should weep. But he soon restrained the flowing
tears.
“Now or never!” said he,
and he put his best foot forward.
It was an epoch in his history, and
though he was too young to realize the importance
of the event, he seemed to feel that what he did now
was to give character to his whole future life.
It was a bright and beautiful morning-somehow,
it is always a bright and beautiful morning when boys
leave their homes to commence the journey of life;
it is typical of the season of youth and hope, and
it is meet that the sky should be clear, and the sun
shine brightly, when the little pilgrim sets out upon
his tour. He will see clouds and storms before
he has gone far-let him have a fair start.
He had to walk five miles to the nearest
railroad station. His road lay by the house
of his friend, Squire Lee; and as he was approaching
it, he met Annie. She said she had come out to
take her morning walk; but Bobby knew very well that
she did not usually walk till an hour later; which,
with the fact that she had asked him particularly,
the day before, what time he was going, made Bobby
believe that she had come out to say good by, and
bid him God speed on his journey. At any rate,
he was very glad to see her. He said a great
many pretty things to her, and talked so big about
what he was going to do, that the little maiden could
hardly help laughing in his face.
Then at the house he shook hands with
the squire and shook hands again with Annie, and resumed
his journey. His heart felt lighter for having
met them, or at least for having met one of them, if
not both; for Annie’s eyes were so full of sunshine
that they seemed to gladden his heart, and make him
feel truer and stronger.
After a pleasant walk, for he scarcely
heeded the distance, so full was he of his big thoughts,
he reached the railroad station. The cars had
not yet arrived, and would not for half an hour.
“Why should I give them a dollar
for carrying me to Boston, when I can just as well
walk? If I get tired, I can sit down and rest
me. If I save the dollar, I shall have to earn
only fifty-nine more to pay my note. So here
goes;” and he started down the track.