[Omniprint-user] Ter here for Mr. Leavitt. If you're going there, yo

[Jacinthe <ta...@uu...>]

He time that's spent in learning. I wish I could afford to send my boy
to college." "It would cost a mint of money; and wouldn't pay. Better
put him to some good business." That was the way he treated his own son,
and for this and other reasons, as soon as he arrived at man's estate,
he left home, which had never had any pleasant associations with him.
His father wanted to convert him into a money-making machine--a mere
drudge, working him hard, and denying him, as long as he could, even the
common recreations of boyhood--for the squire had an idea that the time
devoted in play was foolishly spent, inasmuch as it brought him in no
pecuniary return. He was willfully blind to the faults and defects of
his system, and their utter failure in the case of his own son, and
would, if could, have all the boys in town brought up after severely
practical method. But, fortunately for Harry, Mr. Walton had very
different notions. He was compelled to keep his son home the greater
part of the summer, but it was against his desire. "No wonder he's a
poor man," thought the squire, after his visitor returned home. "He
ain't got no practical idees. Live and learn! that's all nonsense. His
boy looks strong and able to work, and it's foolish sendin' him school
any longer. That wa'n't my way, and see where I am," he concluded, with
complacent remembrance of bonds and mortgages and money out at interest.
"That was a pooty good cow trade," he concluded. "I didn't calc' late
for to get more'n thirty-five dollars for the critter; but then neighbor
Walton had to have a cow, and had to pay my price." Now for Hiram
Walton's reflections. "I'm a poor man," he said to himself