"We can't all be Franklins, my son," said Mrs. Walton, not wishing
her son to form high hopes which might be disappointed in the end.

"I know that, mother, and I don't expect to be a great man like him.
But if I try hard I think I can rise in the world, and be worth a
little money."

"I hope you wont' be as poor as your father, Harry," said Mrs.
Walton, sighing, as she thought of the years of pain privation
and pinching poverty reaching back to the time of their marriage.
They had got through it somehow, but she hoped that their children
would have a brighter lot.

"I hope not," said Harry. "If I ever get rich, you shan't have to
work any more."

Mrs. Walton smiled faintly. She was not hopeful, and thought it
probable that before Harry became rich, both she and her husband
would be resting from their labor in the village churchyard. But
she would not dampen Harry's youthful enthusiasm by the utterance
of such a thought.

"I am sure you won't let your father and mother want, if you have
the means to prevent it," she said aloud.

"We can't any of us tell what's coming, but I hope you may be well
off some time."

"I read in the country paper the other day that many of the richest
men in Boston and New York were once poor boys," said Harry, in a