"Not much of anything now, I suppose—anything which will put dollars and cents into my pocket—but I can learn, if I can get a chance."
"And what would you like to do for a living?"
"There are a good many things which I would like to do," said Samuel, "and may be I shall do them some day; but I've been thinking that just now, I had better go to work in the factory."
"What! in the cotton factory?"
"Yes, sir, Mr. Mason's."
"But would you like that kind of work?"
"I don't know, sir, I'm sure; I should like to try, at any rate. I should like to do something."
He did try. That very week, Samuel got a place in Mr. Mason's factory. His wages were not great, at first. But he earned more than enough to pay for his board at once, and in a month or two he did much better than that. Samuel had to work hard, though. The factory bell rang at day-break, and he was obliged to get up and work an hour or more before breakfast. All day long, from early morning till evening, and in the winter season, till nine o'clock at night, he was required to be at work, with the exception of the time—and that was rather brief—allotted to meals. It was a very rare thing that the boys in the factory had a holiday. Sunday, to be sure—they had that to themselves. But most of the boys, it is to be hoped, were too well brought up and too conscientious to devote any part of that day to play and amusement.
Once in a great while, however, "like angels' visits, few and far between," came a holiday. They have a great time, you know, in every part of the good old commonwealth of Massachusetts, when the day of the annual thanksgiving comes. Very few people, old or young, think of doing much business on that day.
