Books with title Bound To Rise: Up The Ladder

The young Horatio Alger heroes often sold newspapers or delivered telegrams, a reminder of how technology has moved on. Alger's tales created youthful heroes whose persistence and pluck triumphed over enormous odds, often having to educate themselves by a flickering candle and late at night. But they hoped for better things and in the Alger novels their diligence and hard work won the day and they ended up getting the educations they deserved and the success that their exemplary morality earned. The reader will find this prototypical Alger story both a good read and food for thought in an era when the technology has indeed moved on but the challenges have remained.The introduction is provided by Dr. Wallace Boston, President of the American Public University System and a Horatio Alger enthusiast.

"Sit up to the table, children, breakfast's ready." The speaker was a woman of middle age, not goodlooking in the ordinary acceptation of the term, but nevertheless she looked good. She was dressed with extreme plainness, in a cheap calico; but though cheap, the dress was neat. The children she addressed were six in number, varying in age from twelve to four. The oldest, Harry, the hero of the present story, was a broadshouldered, sturdy boy, with a frank, open face, resolute, though good-natured.

Horatio Alger, Jr., an author who lived among and for boys and himself remained a boy in heart and association till death, was born at Revere, Mass., January 18, 1884. He was the son of a clergyman; was graduated at Harvard College in 1852, and at its Divinity School in 1860; and was pastor of the Unitarian Church at Brewster, Mass., in 1862-66. In the latter year he settled in New York and began drawing public attention to the condition and needs of street boys. He mingled with them, gained their confidence, showed a personal concern in their affairs, and stimulated them to honest and useful living.

The speaker was a woman of middle age, not good-looking in the ordinary acceptation of the term, but nevertheless she looked good. She was dressed with extreme plainness, in a cheap calico; but though cheap, the dress was neat. The children she addressed were six in number, varying in age from twelve to four. The oldest, Harry, the hero of the present story, was a broad-shouldered, sturdy boy, with a frank, open face, resolute, though good-natured. "Father isn't here," said Fanny, the second child. "He'll be in directly. He went to the store, and he may stop as he comes back to milk." The table was set in the center of the room, covered with a coarse tablecloth. The breakfast provided was hardly of a kind to tempt an epicure. There was a loaf of bread cut into slices, and a dish of boiled potatoes. There was no butter and no meat, for the family were very poor.

The speaker was a woman of middle age, not good-looking in the ordinary acceptation of the term, but nevertheless she looked good. She was dressed with extreme plainness, in a cheap calico; but though cheap, the dress was neat. The children she addressed were six in number, varying in age from twelve to four. The oldest, Harry, the hero of the present story, was a broad-shouldered, sturdy boy, with a frank, open face, resolute, though good-natured. "Father isn't here," said Fanny, the second child. "He'll be in directly. He went to the store, and he may stop as he comes back to milk." The table was set in the center of the room, covered with a coarse tablecloth. The breakfast provided was hardly of a kind to tempt an epicure. There was a loaf of bread cut into slices, and a dish of boiled potatoes. There was no butter and no meat, for the family were very poor.

The speaker was a woman of middle age, not good-looking in the ordinary acceptation of the term, but nevertheless she looked good. She was dressed with extreme plainness, in a cheap calico; but though cheap, the dress was neat. The children she addressed were six in number, varying in age from twelve to four. The oldest, Harry, the hero of the present story, was a broad-shouldered, sturdy boy, with a frank, open face, resolute, though good-natured. "Father isn't here," said Fanny, the second child. "He'll be in directly. He went to the store, and he may stop as he comes back to milk." The table was set in the center of the room, covered with a coarse tablecloth. The breakfast provided was hardly of a kind to tempt an epicure. There was a loaf of bread cut into slices, and a dish of boiled potatoes. There was no butter and no meat, for the family were very poor.

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