“UP ON THE MOUNTAIN-SIDE TOMMY WAS INDEED FIGHTING THE BATTLE OF HIS LIFE.”
At last he succeeded in getting apprenticed to a printer, and was laughed at for wearing threadbare clothes. “Ah, they did not know that every penny was saved and sent to the father, struggling to clear a farm in the wilderness of Pennsylvania. During his four years’ apprenticeship he visited his parents twice, though six hundred miles distant, and walked most of the way.” But he was soon thrown out of work again.
“After trying various towns, he found a situation in Erie, taking the place of a workman who was ill, and for seven months he did not lose a day. Out of his wages—eighty-four dollars—he had used only six—less than one dollar a month! Putting fifteen dollars in his pocket, he took the balance of sixty-three in a note, and gave it to his father.”
And this man had become one of the greatest editors the country had ever seen, had been nominated for President, had left an indelible mark upon the nation’s history. Tommy closed the book and replaced it in his pocket. The struggle was quite over, and he went calmly down to the house.
His mother looked at him with anxious eyes as he entered, but the calmness of his face seemed to reassure her. The meal was on the table, and he sat down to it with a hunger born of his long fasting.
“Where’s Johnny?” he asked suddenly, seeing that his younger brother’s place at table remained vacant.
“Mis’ Jones took him,” answered his mother. “I didn’t want anybody t’ tend to but your pa after th’ accident. Mis’ Jones said she’d look out fer him fer a few days.”
“How is father?”
“Still asleep. A long sleep’ll do him good, th’ doctor says. But nothin’ can’t make his leg grow out ag’in.”
“No,” said Tommy, “nothing can do that.”