“Would blacksmithing be a good way?” said Fred.
“Now you’ve hit it,” said the smith. “I haven’t got rich myself, and probably never shall. But I didn’t take the right course. I was a sailor when I was young, and spent half my life wandering around the world, before I settled down and turned blacksmith. I dare say if I had learned the trade early enough, and had gone and set up a shop in some large place, or some rising place, and hadn’t always been so low in my charges, I might be a rich man.”
Fred thought the blacksmith must be a very entertaining and learned man, whom it would be pleasant as well as profitable to work with. So, after thinking it over a few minutes, he said,—
“Do you want to hire a boy to learn the business?”
“I’ll give you a chance,” said the smith, “and see what you can do.” Then he went outside and drew in a wagon, which was complete except part of the iron-work, and started up his fire, and thrust in some small bars of iron.
Fred laid aside his bundle, threw off his jacket, and announced that he was ready for work. The smith set him to blowing the bellows, and afterward gave him a light sledge, and showed him how to strike the red-hot bar on the anvil, alternating with the blows of the smith’s own hammer.
At first it was very interesting to feel the soft iron give at every blow, and see the sparks fly, and the bars, and rods taking the well-known shapes of carriage-irons. But either the smith had reached the end of his political economy, or else he was too much in earnest about his work to deliver orations; his talk now was of “swagging,” and “upsetting,” and “countersinking,” and “taps,” and “dies”—all of which terms he taught Fred the use of.
Fred was quick enough to learn, but had never been fond of work; and this was work that made the sweat roll down his whole body. After an hour or two, he gave it up.
“I think I’ll look further for my fortune,” said he; “this is too hard work.”
“All right,” said the smith; “but maybe you’ll fare worse. You’ve earned a little something, anyway;” and he drew aside his leather apron, thrust his hand into his pocket, and brought out seven cents; which Fred accepted with thanks, and resumed his journey.