He could live on a crust of bread and a cup of water from the spring; he could sleep in a barn; he could wear coarse and even ragged clothes; but he could not submit to have his mother insulted, and by such a mean and contemptible person as Mr.Hardhand.
Yet what could he do?
He was but a boy, and the great world would look with contempt upon his puny form.

But he felt that he was not altogether insignificant.

He had performed an act that day, which the fair young lady, to whom he had rendered the service, had declared very few men would have undertaken.

There was something in him, something that would come out, if he only put his best foot forward.

It was a tower of strength within him.