Part 25

First one bear tried to get him, and then the other. But which-ever one tried, Kit was ready. The bear was sure to get his nose hurt.

The bears grew tired, and rested awhile. But they kept up their screeching and roaring. When their noses felt better, they tried again. And then they tried again. But every time they came away with sore noses. At last they both tried at once. But Carson pounded faster than ever. One of the bears cried like a baby. The tears ran out of his eyes. It hurt his feelings to have his nose treated in this rude way.

After a long time one of the bears got tired. He went away. After awhile the other went away too. Kit Carson staid in the tree a long time. Then he came down. The first thing he did was to get his gun. He loaded it. But the bears did not come back. They were too busy rubbing noses.

HORACE GREELEY AS A BOY.

Hor-ace Gree-ley was the son of a poor farmer. He was always fond of books. He learned to read almost as soon as he could talk. He could read easy books when he was three years old. When he was four, he could read any book that he could get.

He went to an old-fashioned school. Twice a day all the children stood up to spell. They were in two classes. Little Hor-ace was in the class with the grown-up young people. He was the best speller in the class. It was funny to see the little midget at the head of this class of older people. But he was only a little boy in his feelings. If he missed a word, he would cry. The one that spelled a word that he missed would have a right to take the head of the class. Sometimes when he missed, the big boys would not take the head. They did not like to make the little fellow cry. He was the pet of all the school.

People in that day were fond of spelling. They used to hold meetings at night to spell. They called these “spelling schools.”

At a spelling school two captains were picked out. These chose their spellers. Then they tried to see which side could beat the other at spelling.

Little Hor-ace was always chosen first. The side that got him got the best speller in the school. Sometimes the little fellow would go to sleep. When it came his turn to spell, some-body would wake him up. He would rub his eyes, and spell the word. He would spell it right, too.

When he was four or five years old, he would lie under a tree, and read. He would lie there, and forget all about his dinner or his supper. He would not move until some-body stumbled over him or called him.

People had not found out how to burn ker-o-sene oil in lamps then. They used candles. But poor people like the Gree-leys could not afford to burn many candles. Hor-ace gathered pine knots to read by at night.

He would light a pine knot Then he would throw it on top of the large log at the back of the fire. This would make a bright flick-er-ing light.

Horace would lay all the books he wanted on the hearth. Then he would lie down by them. His head was toward the fire. His feet were drawn up out of the way.

The first thing that he did was to study all his lessons for the next day. Then he would read other books. He never seemed to know when anybody came or went. He kept on with his reading. His father did not want him to read too late. He was afraid that he would hurt his eyes. And he wanted to have him get up early in the morning to help with the work. So when nine o’clock came, he would call, “Horace, Horace, Horace!” But it took many callings to rouse him.

When he got to bed, he would say his lessons over to his brother. He would tell his brother what he had been reading. But his brother would fall asleep while Horace was talking.

Horace liked to read better than he liked to work. But when he had a task to do, he did it faith-ful-ly. His brother would say, “Let us go fishing.” But Horace would answer, “Let us get our work done first.”

Horace Gree-ley’s father grew poorer and poorer. When Horace was ten years old, his land was sold. The family were now very poor. They moved from New Hamp-shire. They settled in Ver-mont. They lived in a poor little cabin.

Horace had to work hard like all the rest of the family. But he borrowed all the books he could get. Sometimes he walked seven miles to borrow a book.

A rich man who lived near the Greeleys used to lend books to Horace. Horace had grown tall. His hair was white. He was poorly dressed. He was a strange-looking boy. One day he went to the house of the rich man to borrow books. Some one said to the owner of the house, “Do you lend books to such a fellow as that?”

But the gen-tle-man said, “That boy will be a great man some day.”

This made all the com-pa-ny laugh. It seemed funny that anybody should think of this poor boy becoming a great man. But it came true. The poor white-headed boy came to be a great man.

Horace Greeley learned all that he could learn in the country schools. When he was thirteen, one teacher said to his father,—

“Mr. Greeley, Horace knows more than I do. It is not of any use to send him to school any more.”

HORACE GREELEY LEARNING TO PRINT.

Horace Greeley had always wanted to be a printer. He liked books and papers. He thought it would be a fine thing to learn to make them.

One day he heard that the news-paper at East Poult-ney wanted a boy to learn the printer’s trade. He walked many long miles to see about it. He went to see Mr. Bliss. Mr. Bliss was one of the owners of the paper. Horace found him working in his garden. Mr. Bliss looked up. He saw a big boy coming toward him. The boy had on a white felt hat with a narrow brim. It looked like a half-peck measure. His hair was white. His trousers were too short for him. All his clothes were coarse and poor. He was such a strange-looking boy, that Mr. Bliss wanted to laugh.

“I heard that you wanted a boy,” Horace said.

“Do you want to learn to print?” Mr. Bliss said.