- end_line
- 12407
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.924Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 12373
- text
- the winters in that part of the country exceedingly bitter and long.
Seven months out of the twelve the pastures bore nothing, and all cattle
must be fed in the barns. But Charles was a boy; advice often seems the
most wantonly wasted of all human breath; man will not take wisdom on
trust; may be, it is well; for such wisdom is worthless; we must find
the true gem for ourselves; and so we go groping and groping for many
and many a day.
Yet was Charles Millthorpe as affectionate and dutiful a boy as ever
boasted of his brain, and knew not that he possessed a far more
excellent and angelical thing in the possession of a generous heart. His
father died; to his family he resolved to be a second father, and a
careful provider now. But not by hard toil of his hand; but by gentler
practices of his mind. Already he had read many books--history, poetry,
romance, essays, and all. The manorial book-shelves had often been
honored by his visits, and Pierre had kindly been his librarian. Not to
lengthen the tale, at the age of seventeen, Charles sold the horse, the
cow, the pig, the plow, the hoe, and almost every movable thing on the
premises; and, converting all into cash, departed with his mother and
sisters for the city; chiefly basing his expectations of success on some
vague representations of an apothecary relative there resident. How he
and his mother and sisters battled it out; how they pined and
half-starved for a while; how they took in sewing; and Charles took in
copying; and all but scantily sufficed for a livelihood; all this may be
easily imagined. But some mysterious latent good-will of Fate toward
him, had not only thus far kept Charles from the Poor-House, but had
really advanced his fortunes in a degree. At any rate, that certain
harmless presumption and innocent egotism which have been previously
adverted to as sharing in his general character, these had by no means
retarded him; for it is often to be observed of the shallower men, that
they are the very last to despond. It is the glory of the bladder that
nothing can sink it; it is the reproach of a box of treasure, that once
overboard it must down.
- title
- Chunk 5