which I would like to do," said Samuel,
"and may be I shall do them some day; but I've been thinking that just
now, I had better go to work in the factory."

"What! in the cotton factory?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Mason's."

"But would you like that kind of work?"

"I don't know, sir, I'm sure; I should like to try, at any rate. I
should like to do something."

He did try. That very week, Samuel got a place in Mr. Mason's factory.
His wages were not great, at first. But he earned more than enough to
pay for his board at once, and in a month or two he did much better
than that. Samuel had to work hard, though. The factory bell rang at
day-break, and he was obliged to get up and work an hour or more
before breakfast. All day long, from early morning till evening, and
in the winter season, till nine o'clock at night, he was required to
be at work, with the exception of the time--and that was rather
brief--allotted to meals. It was a very rare thing that the boys in
the factory had a holiday. Sunday, to be sure--they had that to
themselves. But most of the boys, it is to be hoped, were too well
brought up and too conscientious to devote any part of that day to
play and amusement.

Once in a great while, however, "like angels' visits, few and far
between," came a holiday. They have a great time, you know, in every
part of the good old commonwealth of Massachusetts, when the day of
the annual thanksgiving comes. Very few people, old or young, think of
doing much business on that day.

[Illustration]

CHAP. VIII.

THANKSGIVING AND TEMPTATION.

Well, in process of time, that long looked for festival arrived. No
boy in Meadville had to sleep with an eye open that morning, for fear
he would not hear the first accent of the tongue of the factory bell.
The bell slept; and the boys slept, too, until they were called to
breakfast.

Samuel had not become very intimate with many of the factory boys.
Indeed, among them all, there was only one that he cared a great deal
about associating with; and this one he loved as a brother. The name
of this boy--or rather, the name by which I prefer to call him in this
narrative--was Frederick Noble. Frederick and Samuel, when they were
not in the factory, were half their time together. I hardly know what
made them so much attached to each other; though probably one reason
was that the circumstances of the two were somewhat similar.
Frederick's father, as well as Samuel's, had on