Home > Authors Index > Edward Sylvester Ellis > Telegraph Messenger Boy; or The Straight Road to Success > This page
The Telegraph Messenger Boy; or The Straight Road to Success, a fiction by Edward Sylvester Ellis |
||
Chapter 22. The Battle Of Life |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XXII. THE BATTLE OF LIFE
And yet, in spite of all this, there could be no question that such a burglarious scheme at one time was contemplated. The cipher telegrams, and the surveillance to which Ben Mayberry was subjected, together with the attempted assault upon him, made this too manifest to be disputed. "They simply discovered the preparations made by the authorities," I said to Ben, "and they had prudence enough to withdraw." "Do you believe they have given it up altogether?" "I doubt it. They have simply deferred the execution until some safer time. We must continue to be on the lookout for telegrams in cipher. These gentry have evil designs upon Damietta, as will be proven before we are many years older." When Ben Mayberry reached the age of fifteen, he attained an important epoch in his life. He had long been one of the most skillful operators in the district, being remarkably quick and accurate. I have told enough to prove his courteous disposition toward all who entered our office. The pretended Mr. Jones, who acted the part of the ignorant farmer, was, as I have stated, a high official of the company, who took odd means to test the character and skill of our employees. The test in the case of young Mayberry proved most satisfactory in every respect. At my request, I was transferred to one of the cities in the Eastern States, where the climate agreed better with me. I was given charge of an important office, an advance made in my wages, and everything was done to make the change agreeable. Such being the fact, it is no assumption on my part to say that my administration of the exacting duties in Damietta had been fully appreciated by my superior officers. Ben Mayberry was made manager of the office in his native city at a salary of seventy-five dollars per month. This statement the reader may doubt, for I am quite certain that no telegraphist of his age was ever given such an important charge, nor is anyone so young paid such a liberal salary; but, did I feel at liberty to do so, I could locate Ben Mayberry so closely that all skeptics could ascertain the facts, in a brief time, precisely as I have given them. We have many office managers, in different parts of the country, who lack several years of their majority; but, as a rule, their stations are not very important, and their pay is nothing like what Ben received. There were exceptional circumstances in his case. He was unusually bright, he was very attentive, he was courteous, cheerful, and never shirked work. He was popular with our patrons, and much of the increase in the business of the Damietta office was due to Ben alone. This became known to those above him, and they felt that an unusual promotion on his part would not only be a just recognition of his ability and devotion, but would do much to stimulate others to imitate the good example set by the boy. In addition to all this, it cannot be denied that fortune favored Ben in a marked degree. The fact that he was swept down the river in the darkness and tempest, while trying to deliver a telegram for a messenger who was ill, and that he saved the life of a little girl, could not fail to operate strongly to his benefit. But he would have reached the end all the same, without these aids, just as you, my young friend, may attain the topmost round by climbing up, up, up, step after step, step after step. There is no cup in this life without some drops of bitterness, and, despite the promotion of Ben, which he fully appreciated, he was cast down by another circumstance, which troubled him more than he would admit to his closest friends. He had not seen sweet Dolly Willard since the grand children's party at Mr. Grandin's, more than two years previous. She had written him regularly every week for months, and he had been equally prompt in answering. Ben wrote a beautiful hand, and his missives to Dolly were long and affectionate. She would have visited her cousins in Damietta, had they not made a visit to Europe, which shut off the possibility of her doing so for some time to come. Ben felt that under the circumstances it was hardly the thing for him to make a call upon Dolly in New York, though she invited him to do so. But during the very week that Ben was given charge of the Damietta office, the mail failed to bring the usual letter from Dolly. He waited impatiently for several days and then wrote to her. There was no response to this, and he felt resentful. He held out for a fortnight, and then was so worried that he was forced to write again. But this was equally fruitless of results, and he became angry. "She is getting to be quite a large girl; her folks are wealthy, and she has begun to realize that I am nothing but a poor telegraphist. Her folks have told her she must look higher, and she has come to that same mind herself. Ah, well; let it be so!" That was expressive of his feelings. Sometimes Ben felt like rebelling against his fate. He had applied himself hard for years; he possessed an excellent education; he held a prominent position in the greatest telegraph company of the country, with a prospect of further advancement before him, and yet, because he was poor, he was looked down upon by those who were his inferiors in everything except the single one of wealth. "It is a great disappointment," he sometimes murmured, "but I am young; most folks would laugh that one of my age should take such a fancy to a little girl like Dolly, and they would say I am certain to get over it very soon. And just there is where they would all make a great mistake." And Ben Mayberry was right on that point. _ |
||