Try and Trust; Or, Abner Holden's Bound Boy — A Reader’s Guide

Voice and the Hero's Introduction

The narrator introduces Herbert, the bound boy, through a contrast of physical description and moral assertion. The prose is direct, almost instructional: 'Herbert was not only a little taller than Oscar... but his shoulders were broader and his frame more muscular.' This plain style serves to underline the hero's merit—earned through work, not birth. The voice shifts between detached observation and moments of pointed commentary, as when the narrator notes that Oscar 'had never done any work to strengthen his arms, while Herbert had been forced by circumstances to do so.' The effect is to align the reader with Herbert's perspective without ever entering his interior thoughts.

Pace and the Fight Scene

The fight between Herbert and Oscar is a microcosm of the novel's pacing. The action unfolds in short, declarative sentences: 'Oscar flung himself upon Herbert... But the latter, without an effort, repelled the charge.' The rhythm accelerates with each exchange, then halts abruptly when a servant interrupts. This pattern—rapid physical conflict followed by a return to polite dialogue—recurs throughout the excerpts. The narrative lingers on the fight's aftermath, allowing Herbert to apologize in a 'manly tone' and Oscar to thaw, restoring social order. The pace thus mirrors the moral lesson: passion must be checked by decorum.

Setting and the Shift to Scenery

After leaving Wheeling, the narrative pace changes markedly. The narrator pauses the plot to describe 'the bold and romantic scenery visible from the car windows.' This is a rare moment of descriptive expansion; earlier scenes are dominated by dialogue and action. The shift suggests that travel and landscape serve as a respite from conflict. Mr. Carroll insists Herbert take the window seat, a small gesture that reinforces the older man's protective role. The scenic passage also hints at a broader world beyond the domestic and commercial struggles that occupy most of the story, offering the reader a brief, visual release.

Readers attentive to Alger's narrative craft will notice how he uses pace to underscore moral contrasts: rapid, tense exchanges expose selfishness, while slower scenes reward virtue. The hero's physical competence is established early, but his emotional restraint is tested repeatedly. The excerpts suggest that the novel's interest lies less in plot twists than in the steady, patterned demonstration of character through action and reaction.

I kept thinking about how Try and Trust slows down just when you expect it to hurry, letting a quiet moment breathe. That same patient pacing lives in All Aboard; or, Life on the Lake A Sequel to "The Boat Club" — A Closer Reading, where the water itself seems to set the tempo. It felt familiar, like a friend’s voice I’d heard before.