The carefree days of boyhood rapidly drew to a close. The serious work
of life was beginning. The bitter struggle for an education was at
hand. And because one boy did so struggle, thousands of boys now are
being given the broadest education, practically free.

Russell had gone as far in his studies as the country school could
take him. Should he stop there as his companions were doing and settle
down to the work of the farm? The outlook for anything else was almost
hopeless. He had absolutely no money, nor could his father spare him
any. He knew no other work than farming. It was a prospect to daunt
even the most determined, yet Russell Conwell is not the only farmer's
boy who has looked such a situation in the face and succeeded in spite
of it. Nor were helping hands stretched out in those days to aid
ambitious boys, as they are in these.

Asa Niles, matching Russell's progress with loving interest, told
Martin Conwell the boy ought to go to Wilbraham Academy. His own son
William was going, and he strongly urged that Charles and Russell
Conwell enter at the same time. It was no light decision for the
father to make. He needed the boys in the work on the farm. Not only
was he unable to help them, but it was a decided loss to let them go.
Long and earnest were the consultations the father and mother held.
The mother, willing to sacrifice herself to the utmost, said, of
course, "let them go," deciding she could earn something to help them
along by taking in more sewing. So it was decided, and in the fall
of 1858, Russell and his brother entered the Academy of Wilbraham, a
small town about twelve miles east from Springfield.

It was bitter, uphill work. All the money the two boys had, both to
pay their tuition and their board, they earned. They worked for the