Driven from Home

Driven From Home, by Horatio
Alger

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Title: Driven From Home Carl Crawford's Experience
Author: Horatio Alger
Release Date: January 21, 2006 [EBook #530]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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FROM HOME ***

Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger

DRIVEN FROM HOME
OR
CARL CRAWFORD'S EXPERIENCE

BY HORATIO ALGER, JR.
Author of "Erie Train Boy," "Young Acrobat," "Only an Irish Boy,"
"Bound to Rise," "The Young Outlaw," "Hector's Inheritance," etc.

DRIVEN FROM HOME.
CHAPTER I
DRIVEN FROM HOME.
A boy of sixteen, with a small gripsack in his hand, trudged along the
country road. He was of good height for his age, strongly built, and had
a frank, attractive face. He was naturally of a cheerful temperament, but
at present his face was grave, and not without a shade of anxiety. This
can hardly be a matter of surprise when we consider that he was thrown
upon his own resources, and that his available capital consisted of
thirty-seven cents in money, in addition to a good education and a
rather unusual amount of physical strength. These last two items were
certainly valuable, but they cannot always be exchanged for the
necessaries and comforts of life.
For some time his steps had been lagging, and from time to time he had
to wipe the moisture from his brow with a fine linen handkerchief,
which latter seemed hardly compatible with his almost destitute
condition.
I hasten to introduce my hero, for such he is to be, as Carl Crawford,
son of Dr. Paul Crawford, of Edgewood Center. Why he had set out to
conquer fortune single-handed will soon appear.
A few rods ahead Carl's attention was drawn to a wide-spreading oak
tree, with a carpet of verdure under its sturdy boughs.
"I will rest here for a little while," he said to himself, and suiting the
action to the word, threw down his gripsack and flung himself on the
turf.

"This is refreshing," he murmured, as, lying upon his back, he looked
up through the leafy rifts to the sky above. "I don't know when I have
ever been so tired. It's no joke walking a dozen miles under a hot sun,
with a heavy gripsack in your hand. It's a good introduction to a life of
labor, which I have reason to believe is before me. I wonder how I am
coming out--at the big or the little end of the horn?"
He paused, and his face grew grave, for he understood well that for him
life had become a serious matter. In his absorption he did not observe
the rapid approach of a boy somewhat younger than himself, mounted
on a bicycle.
The boy stopped short in surprise, and leaped from his iron steed.
"Why, Carl Crawford, is this you? Where in the world are you going
with that gripsack?"
Carl looked up quickly.
"Going to seek my fortune," he answered, soberly.
"Well, I hope you'll find it. Don't chaff, though, but tell the honest
truth."
"I have told you the truth, Gilbert."
With a puzzled look, Gilbert, first leaning his bicycle against the tree,
seated himself on the ground by Carl's side.
"Has your father lost his property?" he asked, abruptly.
"No."
"Has he disinherited you?"
"Not exactly."
"Have you left home for good?"

"I have left home--I hope for good."
"Have you quarreled with the governor?"
"I hardly know what to say to that. There is a difference between us."
"He doesn't seem like a Roman father--one who rules his family with a
rod of iron."
"No; he is quite the reverse. He hasn't backbone enough."
"So it seemed to me when I saw him at the exhibition of the academy.
You ought to be able to get along with a father like that, Carl."
"So I could but for one thing."
"What is that?"
"I have a stepmother!" said Carl, with a significant glance at his
companion.
"So have I, but she is the soul of kindness, and makes our home the
dearest place in the world."
"Are there such stepmothers? I shouldn't have judged so from my own
experience."
"I think I love her as much as if she were my own mother."
"You are lucky," said Carl, sighing.
"Tell me about yours."
"She was married to my father five years ago. Up to the time of her
marriage I thought her amiable and sweet-tempered. But soon after the
wedding she threw