"I don't intend to be conquered," he continued; "I'll fight
it out to the last--this won't discourage me. I'll keep on trying," said
he, determinedly--"if one won't, perhaps another will."
For two or three days Charlie could hear of nothing that would be at all
suitable for him. At last, one morning he saw an advertisement for a youth
to learn the engraver's business--one who had some knowledge of drawing
preferred; to apply at Thomas Blatchford's, bank-note engraver. "Thomas
Blatchford," repeated Mr. Walters, as Charlie read it over--"why that is
_the_ Mr. Blatchford, the Abolitionist. I think you have some chance there
most decidedly--I would advise you to take those sketches of yours and
apply at once."
Charlie ran upstairs, and selecting the best-executed of his drawings, put
them in a neat portfolio, and, without saying anything to Esther or his
mother, hastened away to Mr. Blatchford's. He was shown into a room where a
gentleman was sitting at a table examining some engraved plates. "Is this
Mr. Blatchford's?" asked Charlie.
"That is my name, my little man--do you want to see me," he kindly
inquired.
"Yes, sir. You advertised for a boy to learn the engraving business, I
believe."
"Well; and what then?"
"I have come to apply for the situation.
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