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Helping Himself

Creator: Alger, Horatio, 1832-1899
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"You live in the country, I infer?" "Yes, sir." "I overheard your conversation with the young man who has just left you. I suspect you are not very much alike." "I hope not, sir. Perhaps Tom would say the same, for he thinks me green." "There is such a thing as knowing too much--that isn't desirable to know. So you don't smoke?" "No, sir." "I wish more boys of your age could say as much. Do I understand that you are going to the city in search of employment?" "That is not my chief errand," answered Grant, with some hesitation. "Still, if I could hear of a good chance, I might induce my parents to let me accept it." "Where do you live, my young friend?"
\"\'Tis Sixty Years Since\"

In the single hour self-allotted for my part in this occasion there is much ground to cover,--the time is short, and I have far to go. Did I now, therefore, submit all I had proposed to say when I accepted your invitation, there would remain no space for preliminaries. Yet something of that character is in place. I will try to make it brief.[1] As the legend or text of what I have in mind to submit, I have given the words "'Tis Sixty Years Since." As some here doubtless recall, this is the second or subordinate title of Walter Scott's first novel, "Waverley," which brought him fame. Given to the world in 1814,--hard on a century ago,--"Waverley" told of the last Stuart effort to recover the crown of Great Britain,--that of "The '45." It so chances that Scott's period of retrospect is also just now most appropriate in my case, inasmuch as I entered Harvard as a student in the year 1853--"sixty years since!" It may fairly be asserted that school life ends, and what may in contradistinction thereto be termed thinking and acting life begins, the day the young man passes the threshold of the institution of more advanced education. For him, life's responsibilities then begin. Prior to that confused, thenceforth things with him become consecutive,--a sequence. Insensibly he puts away childish things.
"In Colebrook. My father is the minister there." "That ought to be a recommendation, for it is to be supposed you have been carefully trained. Some of our most successful business men have been ministers' sons." "Are you in business in New York, sir?" asked Grant, thinking he had a right by this time to ask a question. "Yes; here is my card." Taking the card, Grant learned that his companion was Mr. Henry Reynolds and was a broker, with an office in New Street. "I see you are a broker, sir," said Grant. "Tom Calder wants to get a place in a broker's office." "I should prefer that he would try some other broker," said Mr. Reynolds, smiling. "I don't want a boy who deals with the bucket shops." At this point Tom re-entered the car, having finished his cigarette. Observing that his place had been taken, he sat down at a little distance. "When you get ready to take a place," said the broker, "call at my