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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5348-0.txt b/5348-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a839c56 --- /dev/null +++ b/5348-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7246 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ragged Dick, by Horatio Alger + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Ragged Dick +Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot-Blacks + +Author: Horatio Alger + +Release Date: July 4, 2002 [eBook #5348] +[Most recently updated: July 20, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: Andrew Sly + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAGGED DICK *** + + + + +Ragged Dick + +OR, +STREET LIFE IN NEW YORK WITH THE BOOT-BLACKS. + +by Horatio Alger Jr. + + +Contents + + PREFACE + CHAPTER I. RAGGED DICK IS INTRODUCED TO THE READER + CHAPTER II. JOHNNY NOLAN + CHAPTER III. DICK MAKES A PROPOSITION + CHAPTER IV. DICK’S NEW SUIT + CHAPTER V. CHATHAM STREET AND BROADWAY + CHAPTER VI. UP BROADWAY TO MADISON SQUARE + CHAPTER VII. THE POCKET-BOOK + CHAPTER VIII. DICK’S EARLY HISTORY + CHAPTER IX. A SCENE IN A THIRD AVENUE CAR + CHAPTER X. INTRODUCES A VICTIM OF MISPLACED CONFIDENCE + CHAPTER XI. DICK AS A DETECTIVE + CHAPTER XII. DICK HIRES A ROOM ON MOTT STREET + CHAPTER XIII. MICKY MAGUIRE + CHAPTER XIV. A BATTLE AND A VICTORY + CHAPTER XV. DICK SECURES A TUTOR + CHAPTER XVI. THE FIRST LESSON + CHAPTER XVII. DICK’S FIRST APPEARANCE IN SOCIETY + CHAPTER XVIII. MICKY MAGUIRE’S SECOND DEFEAT + CHAPTER XIX. FOSDICK CHANGES HIS BUSINESS + CHAPTER XX. NINE MONTHS LATER + CHAPTER XXI. DICK LOSES HIS BANK-BOOK + CHAPTER XXII. TRACKING THE THIEF + CHAPTER XXIII. TRAVIS IS ARRESTED + CHAPTER XXIV. DICK RECEIVES A LETTER + CHAPTER XXV. DICK WRITES HIS FIRST LETTER + CHAPTER XXVI. AN EXCITING ADVENTURE + CHAPTER XXVII. CONCLUSION + + + + +To +Joseph W. Allen, +at whose suggestion this story +was undertaken, +it is +inscribed with friendly regard. + + + + +PREFACE + + +“Ragged Dick” was contributed as a serial story to the pages of the +Schoolmate, a well-known juvenile magazine, during the year 1867. While +in course of publication, it was received with so many evidences of +favor that it has been rewritten and considerably enlarged, and is now +presented to the public as the first volume of a series intended to +illustrate the life and experiences of the friendless and vagrant +children who are now numbered by thousands in New York and other +cities. + +Several characters in the story are sketched from life. The necessary +information has been gathered mainly from personal observation and +conversations with the boys themselves. The author is indebted also to +the excellent Superintendent of the Newsboys’ Lodging House, in Fulton +Street, for some facts of which he has been able to make use. Some +anachronisms may be noted. Wherever they occur, they have been +admitted, as aiding in the development of the story, and will probably +be considered as of little importance in an unpretending volume, which +does not aspire to strict historical accuracy. + +The author hopes that, while the volumes in this series may prove +interesting stories, they may also have the effect of enlisting the +sympathies of his readers in behalf of the unfortunate children whose +life is described, and of leading them to co-operate with the +praiseworthy efforts now making by the Children’s Aid Society and other +organizations to ameliorate their condition. + +New York, April, 1868 + + + + +CHAPTER I. +RAGGED DICK IS INTRODUCED TO THE READER + + +“Wake up there, youngster,” said a rough voice. + +Ragged Dick opened his eyes slowly, and stared stupidly in the face of +the speaker, but did not offer to get up. + +“Wake up, you young vagabond!” said the man a little impatiently; “I +suppose you’d lay there all day, if I hadn’t called you.” + +“What time is it?” asked Dick. + +“Seven o’clock.” + +“Seven o’clock! I oughter’ve been up an hour ago. I know what ’twas +made me so precious sleepy. I went to the Old Bowery last night, and +didn’t turn in till past twelve.” + +“You went to the Old Bowery? Where’d you get your money?” asked the +man, who was a porter in the employ of a firm doing business on Spruce +Street. “Made it by shines, in course. My guardian don’t allow me no +money for theatres, so I have to earn it.” + +“Some boys get it easier than that,” said the porter significantly. + +“You don’t catch me stealin’, if that’s what you mean,” said Dick. + +“Don’t you ever steal, then?” + +“No, and I wouldn’t. Lots of boys does it, but I wouldn’t.” + +“Well, I’m glad to hear you say that. I believe there’s some good in +you, Dick, after all.” + +“Oh, I’m a rough customer!” said Dick. “But I wouldn’t steal. It’s +mean.” + +“I’m glad you think so, Dick,” and the rough voice sounded gentler than +at first. “Have you got any money to buy your breakfast?” + +“No, but I’ll soon get some.” + +While this conversation had been going on, Dick had got up. His +bedchamber had been a wooden box half full of straw, on which the young +boot-black had reposed his weary limbs, and slept as soundly as if it +had been a bed of down. He dumped down into the straw without taking +the trouble of undressing. + +Getting up too was an equally short process. He jumped out of the box, +shook himself, picked out one or two straws that had found their way +into rents in his clothes, and, drawing a well-worn cap over his +uncombed locks, he was all ready for the business of the day. + +Dick’s appearance as he stood beside the box was rather peculiar. His +pants were torn in several places, and had apparently belonged in the +first instance to a boy two sizes larger than himself. He wore a vest, +all the buttons of which were gone except two, out of which peeped a +shirt which looked as if it had been worn a month. To complete his +costume he wore a coat too long for him, dating back, if one might +judge from its general appearance, to a remote antiquity. + +Washing the face and hands is usually considered proper in commencing +the day, but Dick was above such refinement. He had no particular +dislike to dirt, and did not think it necessary to remove several dark +streaks on his face and hands. But in spite of his dirt and rags there +was something about Dick that was attractive. It was easy to see that +if he had been clean and well dressed he would have been decidedly +good-looking. Some of his companions were sly, and their faces inspired +distrust; but Dick had a frank, straight-forward manner that made him a +favorite. + +Dick’s business hours had commenced. He had no office to open. His +little blacking-box was ready for use, and he looked sharply in the +faces of all who passed, addressing each with, “Shine yer boots, sir?” + +“How much?” asked a gentleman on his way to his office. + +“Ten cents,” said Dick, dropping his box, and sinking upon his knees on +the sidewalk, flourishing his brush with the air of one skilled in his +profession. + +“Ten cents! Isn’t that a little steep?” + +“Well, you know ’taint all clear profit,” said Dick, who had already +set to work. “There’s the _blacking_ costs something, and I have to get +a new brush pretty often.” + +“And you have a large rent too,” said the gentleman quizzically, with a +glance at a large hole in Dick’s coat. + +“Yes, sir,” said Dick, always ready to joke; “I have to pay such a big +rent for my manshun up on Fifth Avenoo, that I can’t afford to take +less than ten cents a shine. I’ll give you a bully shine, sir.” + +“Be quick about it, for I am in a hurry. So your house is on Fifth +Avenue, is it?” + +“It isn’t anywhere else,” said Dick, and Dick spoke the truth there. + +“What tailor do you patronize?” asked the gentleman, surveying Dick’s +attire. + +“Would you like to go to the same one?” asked Dick, shrewdly. + +“Well, no; it strikes me that he didn’t give you a very good fit.” + +“This coat once belonged to General Washington,” said Dick, comically. +“He wore it all through the Revolution, and it got torn some, ’cause he +fit so hard. When he died he told his widder to give it to some smart +young feller that hadn’t got none of his own; so she gave it to me. But +if you’d like it, sir, to remember General Washington by, I’ll let you +have it reasonable.” + +“Thank you, but I wouldn’t want to deprive you of it. And did your +pants come from General Washington too?” + +“No, they was a gift from Lewis Napoleon. Lewis had outgrown ’em and +sent ’em to me,—he’s bigger than me, and that’s why they don’t fit.” + +“It seems you have distinguished friends. Now, my lad, I suppose you +would like your money.” + +“I shouldn’t have any objection,” said Dick. + +“I believe,” said the gentleman, examining his pocket-book, “I haven’t +got anything short of twenty-five cents. Have you got any change?” + +“Not a cent,” said Dick. “All my money’s invested in the Erie +Railroad.” + +“That’s unfortunate.” + +“Shall I get the money changed, sir?” + +“I can’t wait; I’ve got to meet an appointment immediately. I’ll hand +you twenty-five cents, and you can leave the change at my office any +time during the day.” + +“All right, sir. Where is it?” + +“No. 125 Fulton Street. Shall you remember?” + +“Yes, sir. What name?” + +“Greyson,—office on second floor.” + +“All right, sir; I’ll bring it.” + +“I wonder whether the little scamp will prove honest,” said Mr. Greyson +to himself, as he walked away. “If he does, I’ll give him my custom +regularly. If he don’t as is most likely, I shan’t mind the loss of +fifteen cents.” + +Mr. Greyson didn’t understand Dick. Our ragged hero wasn’t a model boy +in all respects. I am afraid he swore sometimes, and now and then he +played tricks upon unsophisticated boys from the country, or gave a +wrong direction to honest old gentlemen unused to the city. A clergyman +in search of the Cooper Institute he once directed to the Tombs Prison, +and, following him unobserved, was highly delighted when the +unsuspicious stranger walked up the front steps of the great stone +building on Centre Street, and tried to obtain admission. + +“I guess he wouldn’t want to stay long if he did get in,” thought +Ragged Dick, hitching up his pants. “Leastways I shouldn’t. They’re so +precious glad to see you that they won’t let you go, but board you +gratooitous, and never send in no bills.” + +Another of Dick’s faults was his extravagance. Being always wide-awake +and ready for business, he earned enough to have supported him +comfortably and respectably. There were not a few young clerks who +employed Dick from time to time in his professional capacity, who +scarcely earned as much as he, greatly as their style and dress +exceeded his. But Dick was careless of his earnings. Where they went he +could hardly have told himself. However much he managed to earn during +the day, all was generally spent before morning. He was fond of going +to the Old Bowery Theatre, and to Tony Pastor’s, and if he had any +money left afterwards, he would invite some of his friends in somewhere +to have an oyster-stew; so it seldom happened that he commenced the day +with a penny. + +Then I am sorry to add that Dick had formed the habit of smoking. This +cost him considerable, for Dick was rather fastidious about his cigars, +and wouldn’t smoke the cheapest. Besides, having a liberal nature, he +was generally ready to treat his companions. But of course the expense +was the smallest objection. No boy of fourteen can smoke without being +affected injuriously. Men are frequently injured by smoking, and boys +always. But large numbers of the newsboys and boot-blacks form the +habit. Exposed to the cold and wet they find that it warms them up, and +the self-indulgence grows upon them. It is not uncommon to see a little +boy, too young to be out of his mother’s sight, smoking with all the +apparent satisfaction of a veteran smoker. + +There was another way in which Dick sometimes lost money. There was a +noted gambling-house on Baxter Street, which in the evening was +sometimes crowded with these juvenile gamesters, who staked their hard +earnings, generally losing of course, and refreshing themselves from +time to time with a vile mixture of liquor at two cents a glass. +Sometimes Dick strayed in here, and played with the rest. + +I have mentioned Dick’s faults and defects, because I want it +understood, to begin with, that I don’t consider him a model boy. But +there were some good points about him nevertheless. He was above doing +anything mean or dishonorable. He would not steal, or cheat, or impose +upon younger boys, but was frank and straight-forward, manly and +self-reliant. His nature was a noble one, and had saved him from all +mean faults. I hope my young readers will like him as I do, without +being blind to his faults. Perhaps, although he was only a boot-black, +they may find something in him to imitate. + +And now, having fairly introduced Ragged Dick to my young readers, I +must refer them to the next chapter for his further adventures. + + + + +CHAPTER II. +JOHNNY NOLAN + + +After Dick had finished polishing Mr. Greyson’s boots he was fortunate +enough to secure three other customers, two of them reporters in the +Tribune establishment, which occupies the corner of Spruce Street and +Printing House Square. + +When Dick had got through with his last customer the City Hall clock +indicated eight o’clock. He had been up an hour, and hard at work, and +naturally began to think of breakfast. He went up to the head of Spruce +Street, and turned into Nassau. Two blocks further, and he reached Ann +Street. On this street was a small, cheap restaurant, where for five +cents Dick could get a cup of coffee, and for ten cents more, a plate +of beefsteak with a plate of bread thrown in. These Dick ordered, and +sat down at a table. + +It was a small apartment with a few plain tables unprovided with +cloths, for the class of customers who patronized it were not very +particular. Our hero’s breakfast was soon before him. Neither the +coffee nor the steak were as good as can be bought at Delmonico’s; but +then it is very doubtful whether, in the present state of his wardrobe, +Dick would have been received at that aristocratic restaurant, even if +his means had admitted of paying the high prices there charged. + +Dick had scarcely been served when he espied a boy about his own size +standing at the door, looking wistfully into the restaurant. This was +Johnny Nolan, a boy of fourteen, who was engaged in the same profession +as Ragged Dick. His wardrobe was in very much the same condition as +Dick’s. + +“Had your breakfast, Johnny?” inquired Dick, cutting off a piece of +steak. + +“No.” + +“Come in, then. Here’s room for you.” + +“I aint got no money,” said Johnny, looking a little enviously at his +more fortunate friend. + +“Haven’t you had any shines?” + +“Yes, I had one, but I shan’t get any pay till to-morrow.” + +“Are you hungry?” + +“Try me, and see.” + +“Come in. I’ll stand treat this morning.” + +Johnny Nolan was nowise slow to accept this invitation, and was soon +seated beside Dick. + +“What’ll you have, Johnny?” + +“Same as you.” + +“Cup o’ coffee and beefsteak,” ordered Dick. + +These were promptly brought, and Johnny attacked them vigorously. + +Now, in the boot-blacking business, as well as in higher avocations, +the same rule prevails, that energy and industry are rewarded, and +indolence suffers. Dick was energetic and on the alert for business, +but Johnny the reverse. The consequence was that Dick earned probably +three times as much as the other. + +“How do you like it?” asked Dick, surveying Johnny’s attacks upon the +steak with evident complacency. + +“It’s hunky.” + +I don’t believe “hunky” is to be found in either Webster’s or +Worcester’s big dictionary; but boys will readily understand what it +means. + +“Do you come here often?” asked Johnny. + +“Most every day. You’d better come too.” + +“I can’t afford it.” + +“Well, you’d ought to, then,” said Dick. “What do you do I’d like to +know?” + +“I don’t get near as much as you, Dick.” + +“Well you might if you tried. I keep my eyes open,—that’s the way I get +jobs. You’re lazy, that’s what’s the matter.” + +Johnny did not see fit to reply to this charge. Probably he felt the +justice of it, and preferred to proceed with the breakfast, which he +enjoyed the more as it cost him nothing. + +Breakfast over, Dick walked up to the desk, and settled the bill. Then, +followed by Johnny, he went out into the street. + +“Where are you going, Johnny?” + +“Up to Mr. Taylor’s, on Spruce Street, to see if he don’t want a +shine.” + +“Do you work for him reg’lar?” + +“Yes. Him and his partner wants a shine most every day. Where are you +goin’?” + +“Down front of the Astor House. I guess I’ll find some customers +there.” + +At this moment Johnny started, and, dodging into an entry way, hid +behind the door, considerably to Dick’s surprise. + +“What’s the matter now?” asked our hero. + +“Has he gone?” asked Johnny, his voice betraying anxiety. + +“Who gone, I’d like to know?” + +“That man in the brown coat.” + +“What of him. You aint scared of him, are you?” + +“Yes, he got me a place once.” + +“Where?” + +“Ever so far off.” + +“What if he did?” + +“I ran away.” + +“Didn’t you like it?” + +“No, I had to get up too early. It was on a farm, and I had to get up +at five to take care of the cows. I like New York best.” + +“Didn’t they give you enough to eat?” + +“Oh, yes, plenty.” + +“And you had a good bed?” + +“Yes.” + +“Then you’d better have stayed. You don’t get either of them here. +Where’d you sleep last night?” + +“Up an alley in an old wagon.” + +“You had a better bed than that in the country, didn’t you?” + +“Yes, it was as soft as—as cotton.” + +Johnny had once slept on a bale of cotton, the recollection supplying +him with a comparison. + +“Why didn’t you stay?” + +“I felt lonely,” said Johnny. + +Johnny could not exactly explain his feelings, but it is often the case +that the young vagabond of the streets, though his food is uncertain, +and his bed may be any old wagon or barrel that he is lucky enough to +find unoccupied when night sets in, gets so attached to his precarious +but independent mode of life, that he feels discontented in any other. +He is accustomed to the noise and bustle and ever-varied life of the +streets, and in the quiet scenes of the country misses the excitement +in the midst of which he has always dwelt. + +Johnny had but one tie to bind him to the city. He had a father living, +but he might as well have been without one. Mr. Nolan was a confirmed +drunkard, and spent the greater part of his wages for liquor. His +potations made him ugly, and inflamed a temper never very sweet, +working him up sometimes to such a pitch of rage that Johnny’s life was +in danger. Some months before, he had thrown a flat-iron at his son’s +head with such terrific force that unless Johnny had dodged he would +not have lived long enough to obtain a place in our story. He fled the +house, and from that time had not dared to re-enter it. Somebody had +given him a brush and box of blacking, and he had set up in business on +his own account. But he had not energy enough to succeed, as has +already been stated, and I am afraid the poor boy had met with many +hardships, and suffered more than once from cold and hunger. Dick had +befriended him more than once, and often given him a breakfast or +dinner, as the case might be. + +“How’d you get away?” asked Dick, with some curiosity. “Did you walk?” + +“No, I rode on the cars.” + +“Where’d you get your money? I hope you didn’t steal it.” + +“I didn’t have none.” + +“What did you do, then?” + +“I got up about three o’clock, and walked to Albany.” + +“Where’s that?” asked Dick, whose ideas on the subject of geography +were rather vague. + +“Up the river.” + +“How far?” + +“About a thousand miles,” said Johnny, whose conceptions of distance +were equally vague. + +“Go ahead. What did you do then?” + +“I hid on top of a freight car, and came all the way without their +seeing me.* That man in the brown coat was the man that got me the +place, and I’m afraid he’d want to send me back.” + +* A fact. + + +“Well,” said Dick, reflectively, “I dunno as I’d like to live in the +country. I couldn’t go to Tony Pastor’s or the Old Bowery. There +wouldn’t be no place to spend my evenings. But I say, it’s tough in +winter, Johnny, ’specially when your overcoat’s at the tailor’s, an’ +likely to stay there.” + +“That’s so, Dick. But I must be goin’, or Mr. Taylor’ll get somebody +else to shine his boots.” + +Johnny walked back to Nassau Street, while Dick kept on his way to +Broadway. + +“That boy,” soliloquized Dick, as Johnny took his departure, “aint got +no ambition. I’ll bet he won’t get five shines to-day. I’m glad I aint +like him. I couldn’t go to the theatre, nor buy no cigars, nor get half +as much as I wanted to eat.—Shine yer boots, sir?” + +Dick always had an eye to business, and this remark was addressed to a +young man, dressed in a stylish manner, who was swinging a jaunty cane. + +“I’ve had my boots blacked once already this morning, but this +confounded mud has spoiled the shine.” + +“I’ll make ’em all right, sir, in a minute.” + +“Go ahead, then.” + +The boots were soon polished in Dick’s best style, which proved very +satisfactory, our hero being a proficient in the art. + +“I haven’t got any change,” said the young man, fumbling in his pocket, +“but here’s a bill you may run somewhere and get changed. I’ll pay you +five cents extra for your trouble.” + +He handed Dick a two-dollar bill, which our hero took into a store +close by. + +“Will you please change that, sir?” said Dick, walking up to the +counter. + +The salesman to whom he proffered it took the bill, and, slightly +glancing at it, exclaimed angrily, “Be off, you young vagabond, or I’ll +have you arrested.” + +“What’s the row?” + +“You’ve offered me a counterfeit bill.” + +“I didn’t know it,” said Dick. + +“Don’t tell me. Be off, or I’ll have you arrested.” + + + + +CHAPTER III. +DICK MAKES A PROPOSITION + + +Though Dick was somewhat startled at discovering that the bill he had +offered was counterfeit, he stood his ground bravely. + +“Clear out of this shop, you young vagabond,” repeated the clerk. + +“Then give me back my bill.” + +“That you may pass it again? No, sir, I shall do no such thing.” + +“It doesn’t belong to me,” said Dick. “A gentleman that owes me for a +shine gave it to me to change.” + +“A likely story,” said the clerk; but he seemed a little uneasy. + +“I’ll go and call him,” said Dick. + +He went out, and found his late customer standing on the Astor House +steps. + +“Well, youngster, have you brought back my change? You were a precious +long time about it. I began to think you had cleared out with the +money.” + +“That aint my style,” said Dick, proudly. + +“Then where’s the change?” + +“I haven’t got it.” + +“Where’s the bill then?” + +“I haven’t got that either.” + +“You young rascal!” + +“Hold on a minute, mister,” said Dick, “and I’ll tell you all about it. +The man what took the bill said it wasn’t good, and kept it.” + +“The bill was perfectly good. So he kept it, did he? I’ll go with you +to the store, and see whether he won’t give it back to me.” + +Dick led the way, and the gentleman followed him into the store. At the +reappearance of Dick in such company, the clerk flushed a little, and +looked nervous. He fancied that he could browbeat a ragged boot-black, +but with a gentleman he saw that it would be a different matter. He did +not seem to notice the newcomers, but began to replace some goods on +the shelves. + +“Now,” said the young man, “point out the clerk that has my money.” + +“That’s him,” said Dick, pointing out the clerk. + +The gentleman walked up to the counter. + +“I will trouble you,” he said a little haughtily, “for a bill which +that boy offered you, and which you still hold in your possession.” + +“It was a bad bill,” said the clerk, his cheek flushing, and his manner +nervous. + +“It was no such thing. I require you to produce it, and let the matter +be decided.” + +The clerk fumbled in his vest-pocket, and drew out a bad-looking bill. + +“This is a bad bill, but it is not the one I gave the boy.” + +“It is the one he gave me.” + +The young man looked doubtful. + +“Boy,” he said to Dick, “is this the bill you gave to be changed?” + +“No, it isn’t.” + +“You lie, you young rascal!” exclaimed the clerk, who began to find +himself in a tight place, and could not see the way out. + +This scene naturally attracted the attention of all in the store, and +the proprietor walked up from the lower end, where he had been busy. + +“What’s all this, Mr. Hatch?” he demanded. + +“That boy,” said the clerk, “came in and asked change for a bad bill. I +kept the bill, and told him to clear out. Now he wants it again to pass +on somebody else.” + +“Show the bill.” + +The merchant looked at it. “Yes, that’s a bad bill,” he said. “There is +no doubt about that.” + +“But it is not the one the boy offered,” said Dick’s patron. “It is one +of the same denomination, but on a different bank.” + +“Do you remember what bank it was on?” + +“It was on the Merchants’ Bank of Boston.” + +“Are you sure of it?” + +“I am.” + +“Perhaps the boy kept it and offered the other.” + +“You may search me if you want to,” said Dick, indignantly. + +“He doesn’t look as if he was likely to have any extra bills. I suspect +that your clerk pocketed the good bill, and has substituted the +counterfeit note. It is a nice little scheme of his for making money.” + +“I haven’t seen any bill on the Merchants’ Bank,” said the clerk, +doggedly. + +“You had better feel in your pockets.” + +“This matter must be investigated,” said the merchant, firmly. “If you +have the bill, produce it.” + +“I haven’t got it,” said the clerk; but he looked guilty +notwithstanding. + +“I demand that he be searched,” said Dick’s patron. + +“I tell you I haven’t got it.” + +“Shall I send for a police officer, Mr. Hatch, or will you allow +yourself to be searched quietly?” said the merchant. + +Alarmed at the threat implied in these words, the clerk put his hand +into his vest-pocket, and drew out a two-dollar bill on the Merchants’ +Bank. + +“Is this your note?” asked the shopkeeper, showing it to the young man. + +“It is.” + +“I must have made a mistake,” faltered the clerk. + +“I shall not give you a chance to make such another mistake in my +employ,” said the merchant sternly. “You may go up to the desk and ask +for what wages are due you. I shall have no further occasion for your +services.” + +“Now, youngster,” said Dick’s patron, as they went out of the store, +after he had finally got the bill changed. “I must pay you something +extra for your trouble. Here’s fifty cents.” + +“Thank you, sir,” said Dick. “You’re very kind. Don’t you want some +more bills changed?” + +“Not to-day,” said he with a smile. “It’s too expensive.” + +“I’m in luck,” thought our hero complacently. “I guess I’ll go to +Barnum’s to-night, and see the bearded lady, the eight-foot giant, the +two-foot dwarf, and the other curiosities, too numerous to mention.” + +Dick shouldered his box and walked up as far as the Astor House. He +took his station on the sidewalk, and began to look about him. + +Just behind him were two persons,—one, a gentleman of fifty; the other, +a boy of thirteen or fourteen. They were speaking together, and Dick +had no difficulty in hearing what was said. + +“I am sorry, Frank, that I can’t go about, and show you some of the +sights of New York, but I shall be full of business to-day. It is your +first visit to the city, too.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“There’s a good deal worth seeing here. But I’m afraid you’ll have to +wait to next time. You can go out and walk by yourself, but don’t +venture too far, or you will get lost.” + +Frank looked disappointed. + +“I wish Tom Miles knew I was here,” he said. “He would go around with +me.” + +“Where does he live?” + +“Somewhere up town, I believe.” + +“Then, unfortunately, he is not available. If you would rather go with +me than stay here, you can, but as I shall be most of the time in +merchants’-counting-rooms, I am afraid it would not be very +interesting.” + +“I think,” said Frank, after a little hesitation, “that I will go off +by myself. I won’t go very far, and if I lose my way, I will inquire +for the Astor House.” + +“Yes, anybody will direct you here. Very well, Frank, I am sorry I +can’t do better for you.” + +“Oh, never mind, uncle, I shall be amused in walking around, and +looking at the shop-windows. There will be a great deal to see.” + +Now Dick had listened to all this conversation. Being an enterprising +young man, he thought he saw a chance for a speculation, and determined +to avail himself of it. + +Accordingly he stepped up to the two just as Frank’s uncle was about +leaving, and said, “I know all about the city, sir; I’ll show him +around, if you want me to.” + +The gentleman looked a little curiously at the ragged figure before +him. + +“So you are a city boy, are you?” + +“Yes, sir,” said Dick, “I’ve lived here ever since I was a baby.” + +“And you know all about the public buildings, I suppose?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“And the Central Park?” + +“Yes, sir. I know my way all round.” + +The gentleman looked thoughtful. + +“I don’t know what to say, Frank,” he remarked after a while. “It is +rather a novel proposal. He isn’t exactly the sort of guide I would +have picked out for you. Still he looks honest. He has an open face, +and I think can be depended upon.” + +“I wish he wasn’t so ragged and dirty,” said Frank, who felt a little +shy about being seen with such a companion. + +“I’m afraid you haven’t washed your face this morning,” said Mr. +Whitney, for that was the gentleman’s name. + +“They didn’t have no wash-bowls at the hotel where I stopped,” said +Dick. + +“What hotel did you stop at?” + +“The Box Hotel.” + +“The Box Hotel?” + +“Yes, sir, I slept in a box on Spruce Street.” + +Frank surveyed Dick curiously. + +“How did you like it?” he asked. + +“I slept bully.” + +“Suppose it had rained.” + +“Then I’d have wet my best clothes,” said Dick. + +“Are these all the clothes you have?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +Mr. Whitney spoke a few words to Frank, who seemed pleased with the +suggestion. + +“Follow me, my lad,” he said. + +Dick in some surprise obeyed orders, following Mr. Whitney and Frank +into the hotel, past the office, to the foot of the staircase. Here a +servant of the hotel stopped Dick, but Mr. Whitney explained that he +had something for him to do, and he was allowed to proceed. + +They entered a long entry, and finally paused before a door. This being +opened a pleasant chamber was disclosed. + +“Come in, my lad,” said Mr. Whitney. + +Dick and Frank entered. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. +DICK’S NEW SUIT + + +“Now,” said Mr. Whitney to Dick, “my nephew here is on his way to a +boarding-school. He has a suit of clothes in his trunk about half worn. +He is willing to give them to you. I think they will look better than +those you have on.” + +Dick was so astonished that he hardly knew what to say. Presents were +something that he knew very little about, never having received any to +his knowledge. That so large a gift should be made to him by a stranger +seemed very wonderful. + +The clothes were brought out, and turned out to be a neat gray suit. + +“Before you put them on, my lad, you must wash yourself. Clean clothes +and a dirty skin don’t go very well together. Frank, you may attend to +him. I am obliged to go at once. Have you got as much money as you +require?” + +“Yes, uncle.” + +“One more word, my lad,” said Mr. Whitney, addressing Dick; “I may be +rash in trusting a boy of whom I know nothing, but I like your looks, +and I think you will prove a proper guide for my nephew.” + +“Yes, I will, sir,” said Dick, earnestly. “Honor bright!” + +“Very well. A pleasant time to you.” + +The process of cleansing commenced. To tell the truth Dick needed it, +and the sensation of cleanliness he found both new and pleasant. Frank +added to his gift a shirt, stockings, and an old pair of shoes. “I am +sorry I haven’t any cap,” said he. + +“I’ve got one,” said Dick. + +“It isn’t so new as it might be,” said Frank, surveying an old felt +hat, which had once been black, but was now dingy, with a large hole in +the top and a portion of the rim torn off. + +“No,” said Dick; “my grandfather used to wear it when he was a boy, and +I’ve kep’ it ever since out of respect for his memory. But I’ll get a +new one now. I can buy one cheap on Chatham Street.” + +“Is that near here?” + +“Only five minutes’ walk.” + +“Then we can get one on the way.” + +When Dick was dressed in his new attire, with his face and hands clean, +and his hair brushed, it was difficult to imagine that he was the same +boy. + +He now looked quite handsome, and might readily have been taken for a +young gentleman, except that his hands were red and grimy. + +“Look at yourself,” said Frank, leading him before the mirror. + +“By gracious!” said Dick, starting back in astonishment, “that isn’t +me, is it?” + +“Don’t you know yourself?” asked Frank, smiling. + +“It reminds me of Cinderella,” said Dick, “when she was changed into a +fairy princess. I see it one night at Barnum’s. What’ll Johnny Nolan +say when he sees me? He won’t dare to speak to such a young swell as I +be now. Aint it rich?” and Dick burst into a loud laugh. His fancy was +tickled by the anticipation of his friend’s surprise. Then the thought +of the valuable gifts he had received occurred to him, and he looked +gratefully at Frank. + +“You’re a brick,” he said. + +“A what?” + +“A brick! You’re a jolly good fellow to give me such a present.” + +“You’re quite welcome, Dick,” said Frank, kindly. “I’m better off than +you are, and I can spare the clothes just as well as not. You must have +a new hat though. But that we can get when we go out. The old clothes +you can make into a bundle.” + +“Wait a minute till I get my handkercher,” and Dick pulled from the +pocket of the pants a dirty rag, which might have been white once, +though it did not look like it, and had apparently once formed a part +of a sheet or shirt. + +“You mustn’t carry that,” said Frank. + +“But I’ve got a cold,” said Dick. + +“Oh, I don’t mean you to go without a handkerchief. I’ll give you one.” + +Frank opened his trunk and pulled out two, which he gave to Dick. + +“I wonder if I aint dreamin’,” said Dick, once more surveying himself +doubtfully in the glass. “I’m afraid I’m dreamin’, and shall wake up in +a barrel, as I did night afore last.” + +“Shall I pinch you so you can wake here?” asked Frank, playfully. + +“Yes,” said Dick, seriously, “I wish you would.” + +He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, and Frank pinched him pretty +hard, so that Dick winced. + +“Yes, I guess I’m awake,” said Dick; “you’ve got a pair of nippers, you +have. But what shall I do with my brush and blacking?” he asked. + +“You can leave them here till we come back,” said Frank. “They will be +safe.” + +“Hold on a minute,” said Dick, surveying Frank’s boots with a +professional eye, “you aint got a good shine on them boots. I’ll make +’em shine so you can see your face in ’em.” + +And he was as good as his word. + +“Thank you,” said Frank; “now you had better brush your own shoes.” + +This had not occurred to Dick, for in general the professional +boot-black considers his blacking too valuable to expend on his own +shoes or boots, if he is fortunate enough to possess a pair. + +The two boys now went downstairs together. They met the same servant +who had spoken to Dick a few minutes before, but there was no +recognition. + +“He don’t know me,” said Dick. “He thinks I’m a young swell like you.” + +“What’s a swell?” + +“Oh, a feller that wears nobby clothes like you.” + +“And you, too, Dick.” + +“Yes,” said Dick, “who’d ever have thought as I should have turned into +a swell?” + +They had now got out on Broadway, and were slowly walking along the +west side by the Park, when who should Dick see in front of him, but +Johnny Nolan? + +Instantly Dick was seized with a fancy for witnessing Johnny’s +amazement at his change in appearance. He stole up behind him, and +struck him on the back. + +“Hallo, Johnny, how many shines have you had?” + +Johnny turned round expecting to see Dick, whose voice he recognized, +but his astonished eyes rested on a nicely dressed boy (the hat alone +excepted) who looked indeed like Dick, but so transformed in dress that +it was difficult to be sure of his identity. + +“What luck, Johnny?” repeated Dick. + +Johnny surveyed him from head to foot in great bewilderment. + +“Who be you?” he said. + +“Well, that’s a good one,” laughed Dick; “so you don’t know Dick?” + +“Where’d you get all them clothes?” asked Johnny. “Have you been +stealin’?” + +“Say that again, and I’ll lick you. No, I’ve lent my clothes to a young +feller as was goin’ to a party, and didn’t have none fit to wear, and +so I put on my second-best for a change.” + +Without deigning any further explanation, Dick went off, followed by +the astonished gaze of Johnny Nolan, who could not quite make up his +mind whether the neat-looking boy he had been talking with was really +Ragged Dick or not. + +In order to reach Chatham Street it was necessary to cross Broadway. +This was easier proposed than done. There is always such a throng of +omnibuses, drays, carriages, and vehicles of all kinds in the +neighborhood of the Astor House, that the crossing is formidable to one +who is not used to it. Dick made nothing of it, dodging in and out +among the horses and wagons with perfect self-possession. Reaching the +opposite sidewalk, he looked back, and found that Frank had retreated +in dismay, and that the width of the street was between them. + +“Come across!” called out Dick. + +“I don’t see any chance,” said Frank, looking anxiously at the prospect +before him. “I’m afraid of being run over.” + +“If you are, you can sue ’em for damages,” said Dick. + +Finally Frank got safely over after several narrow escapes, as he +considered them. + +“Is it always so crowded?” he asked. + +“A good deal worse sometimes,” said Dick. “I knowed a young man once +who waited six hours for a chance to cross, and at last got run over by +an omnibus, leaving a widder and a large family of orphan children. His +widder, a beautiful young woman, was obliged to start a peanut and +apple stand. There she is now.” + +“Where?” + +Dick pointed to a hideous old woman, of large proportions, wearing a +bonnet of immense size, who presided over an apple-stand close by. + +Frank laughed. + +“If that is the case,” he said, “I think I will patronize her.” + +“Leave it to me,” said Dick, winking. + +He advanced gravely to the apple-stand, and said, “Old lady, have you +paid your taxes?” + +The astonished woman opened her eyes. + +“I’m a gov’ment officer,” said Dick, “sent by the mayor to collect your +taxes. I’ll take it in apples just to oblige. That big red one will +about pay what you’re owin’ to the gov’ment.” + +“I don’t know nothing about no taxes,” said the old woman, in +bewilderment. + +“Then,” said Dick, “I’ll let you off this time. Give us two of your +best apples, and my friend here, the President of the Common Council, +will pay you.” + +Frank smiling, paid three cents apiece for the apples, and they +sauntered on, Dick remarking, “If these apples aint good, old lady, +we’ll return ’em, and get our money back.” This would have been rather +difficult in his case, as the apple was already half consumed. + +Chatham Street, where they wished to go, being on the East side, the +two boys crossed the Park. This is an enclosure of about ten acres, +which years ago was covered with a green sward, but is now a great +thoroughfare for pedestrians and contains several important public +buildings. Dick pointed out the City Hall, the Hall of Records, and the +Rotunda. The former is a white building of large size, and surmounted +by a cupola. + +“That’s where the mayor’s office is,” said Dick. “Him and me are very +good friends. I once blacked his boots by partic’lar appointment. +That’s the way I pay my city taxes.” + + + + +CHAPTER V. +CHATHAM STREET AND BROADWAY + + +They were soon in Chatham Street, walking between rows of ready-made +clothing shops, many of which had half their stock in trade exposed on +the sidewalk. The proprietors of these establishments stood at the +doors, watching attentively the passersby, extending urgent invitations +to any who even glanced at the goods to enter. + +“Walk in, young gentlemen,” said a stout man, at the entrance of one +shop. + +“No, I thank you,” replied Dick, “as the fly said to the spider.” + +“We’re selling off at less than cost.” + +“Of course you be. That’s where you makes your money,” said Dick. +“There aint nobody of any enterprise that pretends to make any profit +on his goods.” + +The Chatham Street trader looked after our hero as if he didn’t quite +comprehend him; but Dick, without waiting for a reply, passed on with +his companion. + +In some of the shops auctions seemed to be going on. + +“I am only offered two dollars, gentlemen, for this elegant pair of +doeskin pants, made of the very best of cloth. It’s a frightful +sacrifice. Who’ll give an eighth? Thank you, sir. Only seventeen +shillings! Why the cloth cost more by the yard!” + +This speaker was standing on a little platform haranguing to three men, +holding in his hand meanwhile a pair of pants very loose in the legs, +and presenting a cheap Bowery look. + +Frank and Dick paused before the shop door, and finally saw them +knocked down to rather a verdant-looking individual at three dollars. + +“Clothes seem to be pretty cheap here,” said Frank. + +“Yes, but Baxter Street is the cheapest place.” + +“Is it?” + +“Yes. Johnny Nolan got a whole rig-out there last week, for a +dollar,—coat, cap, vest, pants, and shoes. They was very good measure, +too, like my best clothes that I took off to oblige you.” + +“I shall know where to come for clothes next time,” said Frank, +laughing. “I had no idea the city was so much cheaper than the country. +I suppose the Baxter Street tailors are fashionable?” + +“In course they are. Me and Horace Greeley always go there for clothes. +When Horace gets a new suit, I always have one made just like it; but I +can’t go the white hat. It aint becomin’ to my style of beauty.” + +A little farther on a man was standing out on the sidewalk, +distributing small printed handbills. One was handed to Frank, which he +read as follows,— + +“GRAND CLOSING-OUT SALE!—A variety of Beautiful and Costly Articles for +Sale, at a Dollar apiece. Unparalleled Inducements! Walk in, +Gentlemen!” + +“Whereabouts is this sale?” asked Frank. + +“In here, young gentlemen,” said a black-whiskered individual, who +appeared suddenly on the scene. “Walk in.” + +“Shall we go in, Dick?” + +“It’s a swindlin’ shop,” said Dick, in a low voice. “I’ve been there. +That man’s a regular cheat. He’s seen me before, but he don’t know me +coz of my clothes.” + +“Step in and see the articles,” said the man, persuasively. “You +needn’t buy, you know.” + +“Are all the articles worth more’n a dollar?” asked Dick. + +“Yes,” said the other, “and some worth a great deal more.” + +“Such as what?” + +“Well, there’s a silver pitcher worth twenty dollars.” + +“And you sell it for a dollar. That’s very kind of you,” said Dick, +innocently. + +“Walk in, and you’ll understand it.” + +“No, I guess not,” said Dick. “My servants is so dishonest that I +wouldn’t like to trust ’em with a silver pitcher. Come along, Frank. I +hope you’ll succeed in your charitable enterprise of supplyin’ the +public with silver pitchers at nineteen dollars less than they are +worth.” + +“How does he manage, Dick?” asked Frank, as they went on. + +“All his articles are numbered, and he makes you pay a dollar, and then +shakes some dice, and whatever the figgers come to, is the number of +the article you draw. Most of ’em aint worth sixpence.” + +A hat and cap store being close at hand, Dick and Frank went in. For +seventy-five cents, which Frank insisted on paying, Dick succeeded in +getting quite a neat-looking cap, which corresponded much better with +his appearance than the one he had on. The last, not being considered +worth keeping, Dick dropped on the sidewalk, from which, on looking +back, he saw it picked up by a brother boot-black who appeared to +consider it better than his own. + +They retraced their steps and went up Chambers Street to Broadway. At +the corner of Broadway and Chambers Street is a large white marble +warehouse, which attracted Frank’s attention. + +“What building is that?” he asked, with interest. + +“That belongs to my friend A. T. Stewart,” said Dick. “It’s the biggest +store on Broadway.* If I ever retire from boot-blackin’, and go into +mercantile pursuits, I may buy him out, or build another store that’ll +take the shine off this one.” + +* Mr. Stewart’s Tenth Street store was not open at the time Dick spoke. + + +“Were you ever in the store?” asked Frank. + +“No,” said Dick; “but I’m intimate with one of Stewart’s partners. He +is a cash boy, and does nothing but take money all day.” + +“A very agreeable employment,” said Frank, laughing. + +“Yes,” said Dick, “I’d like to be in it.” + +The boys crossed to the West side of Broadway, and walked slowly up the +street. To Frank it was a very interesting spectacle. Accustomed to the +quiet of the country, there was something fascinating in the crowds of +people thronging the sidewalks, and the great variety of vehicles +constantly passing and repassing in the street. Then again the +shop-windows with their multifarious contents interested and amused +him, and he was constantly checking Dick to look in at some +well-stocked window. + +“I don’t see how so many shopkeepers can find people enough to buy of +them,” he said. “We haven’t got but two stores in our village, and +Broadway seems to be full of them.” + +“Yes,” said Dick; “and its pretty much the same in the avenoos, +’specially the Third, Sixth, and Eighth avenoos. The Bowery, too, is a +great place for shoppin’. There everybody sells cheaper’n anybody else, +and nobody pretends to make no profit on their goods.” + +“Where’s Barnum’s Museum?” asked Frank. + +“Oh, that’s down nearly opposite the Astor House,” said Dick. “Didn’t +you see a great building with lots of flags?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, that’s Barnum’s.* That’s where the Happy Family live, and the +lions, and bears, and curiosities generally. It’s a tip-top place. +Haven’t you ever been there? It’s most as good as the Old Bowery, only +the plays isn’t quite so excitin’.” + +* Since destroyed by fire, and rebuilt farther up Broadway, and again +burned down in February. + + +“I’ll go if I get time,” said Frank. “There is a boy at home who came +to New York a month ago, and went to Barnum’s, and has been talking +about it ever since, so I suppose it must be worth seeing.” + +“They’ve got a great play at the Old Bowery now,” pursued Dick. “’Tis +called the ‘Demon of the Danube.’ The Demon falls in love with a young +woman, and drags her by the hair up to the top of a steep rock where +his castle stands.” + +“That’s a queer way of showing his love,” said Frank, laughing. + +“She didn’t want to go with him, you know, but was in love with another +chap. When he heard about his girl bein’ carried off, he felt awful, +and swore an oath not to rest till he had got her free. Well, at last +he got into the castle by some underground passage, and he and the +Demon had a fight. Oh, it was bully seein’ ’em roll round on the stage, +cuttin’ and slashin’ at each other.” + +“And which got the best of it?” + +“At first the Demon seemed to be ahead, but at last the young Baron got +him down, and struck a dagger into his heart, sayin’, ‘Die, false and +perjured villain! The dogs shall feast upon thy carcass!’ and then the +Demon give an awful howl and died. Then the Baron seized his body, and +threw it over the precipice.” + +“It seems to me the actor who plays the Demon ought to get extra pay, +if he has to be treated that way.” + +“That’s so,” said Dick; “but I guess he’s used to it. It seems to agree +with his constitution.” + +“What building is that?” asked Frank, pointing to a structure several +rods back from the street, with a large yard in front. It was an +unusual sight for Broadway, all the other buildings in that +neighborhood being even with the street. + +“That is the New York Hospital,” said Dick. “They’re a rich +institution, and take care of sick people on very reasonable terms.” + +“Did you ever go in there?” + +“Yes,” said Dick; “there was a friend of mine, Johnny Mullen, he was a +newsboy, got run over by a omnibus as he was crossin’ Broadway down +near Park Place. He was carried to the Hospital, and me and some of his +friends paid his board while he was there. It was only three dollars a +week, which was very cheap, considerin’ all the care they took of him. +I got leave to come and see him while he was here. Everything looked so +nice and comfortable, that I thought a little of coaxin’ a omnibus +driver to run over me, so I might go there too.” + +“Did your friend have to have his leg cut off?” asked Frank, +interested. + +“No,” said Dick; “though there was a young student there that was very +anxious to have it cut off; but it wasn’t done, and Johnny is around +the streets as well as ever.” + +While this conversation was going on they reached No. 365, at the +corner of Franklin Street.* + +* Now the office of the Merchants’ Union Express Company. + + +“That’s Taylor’s Saloon,” said Dick. “When I come into a fortun’ I +shall take my meals there reg’lar.” + +“I have heard of it very often,” said Frank. “It is said to be very +elegant. Suppose we go in and take an ice-cream. It will give us a +chance to see it to better advantage.” + +“Thank you,” said Dick; “I think that’s the most agreeable way of +seein’ the place myself.” + +The boys entered, and found themselves in a spacious and elegant +saloon, resplendent with gilding, and adorned on all sides by costly +mirrors. They sat down to a small table with a marble top, and Frank +gave the order. + +“It reminds me of Aladdin’s palace,” said Frank, looking about him. + +“Does it?” said Dick; “he must have had plenty of money.” + +“He had an old lamp, which he had only to rub, when the Slave of the +Lamp would appear, and do whatever he wanted.” + +“That must have been a valooable lamp. I’d be willin’ to give all my +Erie shares for it.” + +There was a tall, gaunt individual at the next table, who apparently +heard this last remark of Dick’s. Turning towards our hero, he said, +“May I inquire, young man, whether you are largely interested in this +Erie Railroad?” + +“I haven’t got no property except what’s invested in Erie,” said Dick, +with a comical side-glance at Frank. + +“Indeed! I suppose the investment was made by your guardian.” + +“No,” said Dick; “I manage my property myself.” + +“And I presume your dividends have not been large?” + +“Why, no,” said Dick; “you’re about right there. They haven’t.” + +“As I supposed. It’s poor stock. Now, my young friend, I can recommend +a much better investment, which will yield you a large annual income. I +am agent of the Excelsior Copper Mining Company, which possesses one of +the most productive mines in the world. It’s sure to yield fifty per +cent. on the investment. Now, all you have to do is to sell out your +Erie shares, and invest in our stock, and I’ll insure you a fortune in +three years. How many shares did you say you had?” + +“I didn’t say, that I remember,” said Dick. “Your offer is very kind +and obligin’, and as soon as I get time I’ll see about it.” + +“I hope you will,” said the stranger. “Permit me to give you my card. +‘Samuel Snap, No. — Wall Street.’ I shall be most happy to receive a +call from you, and exhibit the maps of our mine. I should be glad to +have you mention the matter also to your friends. I am confident you +could do no greater service than to induce them to embark in our +enterprise.” + +“Very good,” said Dick. + +Here the stranger left the table, and walked up to the desk to settle +his bill. + +“You see what it is to be a man of fortun’, Frank,” said Dick, “and +wear good clothes. I wonder what that chap’ll say when he sees me +blackin’ boots to-morrow in the street?” + +“Perhaps you earn your money more honorably than he does, after all,” +said Frank. “Some of these mining companies are nothing but swindles, +got up to cheat people out of their money.” + +“He’s welcome to all he gets out of me,” said Dick. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. +UP BROADWAY TO MADISON SQUARE + + +As the boys pursued their way up Broadway, Dick pointed out the +prominent hotels and places of amusement. Frank was particularly struck +with the imposing fronts of the St. Nicholas and Metropolitan Hotels, +the former of white marble, the latter of a subdued brown hue, but not +less elegant in its internal appointments. He was not surprised to be +informed that each of these splendid structures cost with the +furnishing not far from a million dollars. + +At Eighth Street Dick turned to the right, and pointed out the Clinton +Hall Building now occupied by the Mercantile Library, comprising at +that time over fifty thousand volumes.* + +* Now not far from one hundred thousand. + + +A little farther on they came to a large building standing by itself +just at the opening of Third and Fourth Avenues, and with one side on +each. + +“What is that building?” asked Frank. + +“That’s the Cooper Institute,” said Dick; “built by Mr. Cooper, a +particular friend of mine. Me and Peter Cooper used to go to school +together.” + +“What is there inside?” asked Frank. + +“There’s a hall for public meetin’s and lectures in the basement, and a +readin’ room and a picture gallery up above,” said Dick. + +Directly opposite Cooper Institute, Frank saw a very large building of +brick, covering about an acre of ground. + +“Is that a hotel?” he asked. + +“No,” said Dick; “that’s the Bible House. It’s the place where they +make Bibles. I was in there once,—saw a big pile of ’em.” + +“Did you ever read the Bible?” asked Frank, who had some idea of the +neglected state of Dick’s education. + +“No,” said Dick; “I’ve heard it’s a good book, but I never read one. I +aint much on readin’. It makes my head ache.” + +“I suppose you can’t read very fast.” + +“I can read the little words pretty well, but the big ones is what +stick me.” + +“If I lived in the city, you might come every evening to me, and I +would teach you.” + +“Would you take so much trouble about me?” asked Dick, earnestly. + +“Certainly; I should like to see you getting on. There isn’t much +chance of that if you don’t know how to read and write.” + +“You’re a good feller,” said Dick, gratefully. “I wish you did live in +New York. I’d like to know somethin’. Whereabouts do you live?” + +“About fifty miles off, in a town on the left bank of the Hudson. I +wish you’d come up and see me sometime. I would like to have you come +and stop two or three days.” + +“Honor bright?” + +“I don’t understand.” + +“Do you mean it?” asked Dick, incredulously. + +“Of course I do. Why shouldn’t I?” + +“What would your folks say if they knowed you asked a boot-black to +visit you?” + +“You are none the worse for being a boot-black, Dick.” + +“I aint used to genteel society,” said Dick. “I shouldn’t know how to +behave.” + +“Then I could show you. You won’t be a boot-black all your life, you +know.” + +“No,” said Dick; “I’m goin’ to knock off when I get to be ninety.” + +“Before that, I hope,” said Frank, smiling. + +“I really wish I could get somethin’ else to do,” said Dick, soberly. +“I’d like to be a office boy, and learn business, and grow up +’spectable.” + +“Why don’t you try, and see if you can’t get a place, Dick?” + +“Who’d take Ragged Dick?” + +“But you aint ragged now, Dick.” + +“No,” said Dick; “I look a little better than I did in my Washington +coat and Louis Napoleon pants. But if I got in a office, they wouldn’t +give me more’n three dollars a week, and I couldn’t live ’spectable on +that.” + +“No, I suppose not,” said Frank, thoughtfully. “But you would get more +at the end of the first year.” + +“Yes,” said Dick; “but by that time I’d be nothin’ but skin and bones.” + +Frank laughed. “That reminds me,” he said, “of the story of an +Irishman, who, out of economy, thought he would teach his horse to feed +on shavings. So he provided the horse with a pair of green spectacles +which made the shavings look eatable. But unfortunately, just as the +horse got learned, he up and died.” + +“The hoss must have been a fine specimen of architectur’ by the time he +got through,” remarked Dick. + +“Whereabouts are we now?” asked Frank, as they emerged from Fourth +Avenue into Union Square. + +“That is Union Park,” said Dick, pointing to a beautiful enclosure, in +the centre of which was a pond, with a fountain playing. + +“Is that the statue of General Washington?” asked Frank, pointing to a +bronze equestrian statue, on a granite pedestal. + +“Yes,” said Dick; “he’s growed some since he was President. If he’d +been as tall as that when he fit in the Revolution, he’d have walloped +the Britishers some, I reckon.” + +Frank looked up at the statue, which is fourteen and a half feet high, +and acknowledged the justice of Dick’s remark. + +“How about the coat, Dick?” he asked. “Would it fit you?” + +“Well, it might be rather loose,” said Dick, “I aint much more’n ten +feet high with my boots off.” + +“No, I should think not,” said Frank, smiling. “You’re a queer boy, +Dick.” + +“Well, I’ve been brought up queer. Some boys is born with a silver +spoon in their mouth. Victoria’s boys is born with a gold spoon, set +with di’monds; but gold and silver was scarce when I was born, and mine +was pewter.” + +“Perhaps the gold and silver will come by and by, Dick. Did you ever +hear of Dick Whittington?” + +“Never did. Was he a Ragged Dick?” + +“I shouldn’t wonder if he was. At any rate he was very poor when he was +a boy, but he didn’t stay so. Before he died, he became Lord Mayor of +London.” + +“Did he?” asked Dick, looking interested. “How did he do it?” + +“Why, you see, a rich merchant took pity on him, and gave him a home in +his own house, where he used to stay with the servants, being employed +in little errands. One day the merchant noticed Dick picking up pins +and needles that had been dropped, and asked him why he did it. Dick +told him he was going to sell them when he got enough. The merchant was +pleased with his saving disposition, and when soon after, he was going +to send a vessel to foreign parts, he told Dick he might send anything +he pleased in it, and it should be sold to his advantage. Now Dick had +nothing in the world but a kitten which had been given him a short time +before.” + +“How much taxes did he have to pay on it?” asked Dick. + +“Not very high, probably. But having only the kitten, he concluded to +send it along. After sailing a good many months, during which the +kitten grew up to be a strong cat, the ship touched at an island never +before known, which happened to be infested with rats and mice to such +an extent that they worried everybody’s life out, and even ransacked +the king’s palace. To make a long story short, the captain, seeing how +matters stood, brought Dick’s cat ashore, and she soon made the rats +and mice scatter. The king was highly delighted when he saw what havoc +she made among the rats and mice, and resolved to have her at any +price. So he offered a great quantity of gold for her, which, of +course, the captain was glad to accept. It was faithfully carried back +to Dick, and laid the foundation of his fortune. He prospered as he +grew up, and in time became a very rich merchant, respected by all, and +before he died was elected Lord Mayor of London.” + +“That’s a pretty good story,” said Dick; “but I don’t believe all the +cats in New York will ever make me mayor.” + +“No, probably not, but you may rise in some other way. A good many +distinguished men have once been poor boys. There’s hope for you, Dick, +if you’ll try.” + +“Nobody ever talked to me so before,” said Dick. “They just called me +Ragged Dick, and told me I’d grow up to be a vagabone (boys who are +better educated need not be surprised at Dick’s blunders) and come to +the gallows.” + +“Telling you so won’t make it turn out so, Dick. If you’ll try to be +somebody, and grow up into a respectable member of society, you will. +You may not become rich,—it isn’t everybody that becomes rich, you +know—but you can obtain a good position, and be respected.” + +“I’ll try,” said Dick, earnestly. “I needn’t have been Ragged Dick so +long if I hadn’t spent my money in goin’ to the theatre, and treatin’ +boys to oyster-stews, and bettin’ money on cards, and such like.” + +“Have you lost money that way?” + +“Lots of it. One time I saved up five dollars to buy me a new rig-out, +cos my best suit was all in rags, when Limpy Jim wanted me to play a +game with him.” + +“Limpy Jim?” said Frank, interrogatively. + +“Yes, he’s lame; that’s what makes us call him Limpy Jim.” + +“I suppose you lost?” + +“Yes, I lost every penny, and had to sleep out, cos I hadn’t a cent to +pay for lodgin’. ’Twas a awful cold night, and I got most froze.” + +“Wouldn’t Jim let you have any of the money he had won to pay for a +lodging?” + +“No; I axed him for five cents, but he wouldn’t let me have it.” + +“Can you get lodging for five cents?” asked Frank, in surprise. + +“Yes,” said Dick, “but not at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. That’s it right +out there.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. +THE POCKET-BOOK + + +They had reached the junction of Broadway and of Fifth Avenue. Before +them was a beautiful park of ten acres. On the left-hand side was a +large marble building, presenting a fine appearance with its extensive +white front. This was the building at which Dick pointed. + +“Is that the Fifth Avenue Hotel?” asked Frank. “I’ve heard of it often. +My Uncle William always stops there when he comes to New York.” + +“I once slept on the outside of it,” said Dick. “They was very +reasonable in their charges, and told me I might come again.” + +“Perhaps sometime you’ll be able to sleep inside,” said Frank. + +“I guess that’ll be when Queen Victoria goes to the Five Points to +live.” + +“It looks like a palace,” said Frank. “The queen needn’t be ashamed to +live in such a beautiful building as that.” + +Though Frank did not know it, one of the queen’s palaces is far from +being as fine a looking building as the Fifth Avenue Hotel. St. James’ +Palace is a very ugly-looking brick structure, and appears much more +like a factory than like the home of royalty. There are few hotels in +the world as fine-looking as this democratic institution. + +At that moment a gentleman passed them on the sidewalk, who looked back +at Dick, as if his face seemed familiar. + +“I know that man,” said Dick, after he had passed. “He’s one of my +customers.” + +“What is his name?” + +“I don’t know.” + +“He looked back as if he thought he knew you.” + +“He would have knowed me at once if it hadn’t been for my new clothes,” +said Dick. “I don’t look much like Ragged Dick now.” + +“I suppose your face looked familiar.” + +“All but the dirt,” said Dick, laughing. “I don’t always have the +chance of washing my face and hands in the Astor House.” + +“You told me,” said Frank, “that there was a place where you could get +lodging for five cents. Where’s that?” + +“It’s the News-boys’ Lodgin’ House, on Fulton Street,” said Dick, “up +over the ‘Sun’ office. It’s a good place. I don’t know what us boys +would do without it. They give you supper for six cents, and a bed for +five cents more.” + +“I suppose some boys don’t even have the five cents to pay,—do they?” + +“They’ll trust the boys,” said Dick. “But I don’t like to get trusted. +I’d be ashamed to get trusted for five cents, or ten either. One night +I was comin’ down Chatham Street, with fifty cents in my pocket. I was +goin’ to get a good oyster-stew, and then go to the lodgin’ house; but +somehow it slipped through a hole in my trowses-pocket, and I hadn’t a +cent left. If it had been summer I shouldn’t have cared, but it’s +rather tough stayin’ out winter nights.” + +Frank, who had always possessed a good home of his own, found it hard +to realize that the boy who was walking at his side had actually walked +the streets in the cold without a home, or money to procure the common +comfort of a bed. + +“What did you do?” he asked, his voice full of sympathy. + +“I went to the ‘Times’ office. I knowed one of the pressmen, and he let +me set down in a corner, where I was warm, and I soon got fast asleep.” + +“Why don’t you get a room somewhere, and so always have a home to go +to?” + +“I dunno,” said Dick. “I never thought of it. P’rhaps I may hire a +furnished house on Madison Square.” + +“That’s where Flora McFlimsey lived.” + +“I don’t know her,” said Dick, who had never read the popular poem of +which she is the heroine. + +While this conversation was going on, they had turned into Twenty-fifth +Street, and had by this time reached Third Avenue. + +Just before entering it, their attention was drawn to the rather +singular conduct of an individual in front of them. Stopping suddenly, +he appeared to pick up something from the sidewalk, and then looked +about him in rather a confused way. + +“I know his game,” whispered Dick. “Come along and you’ll see what it +is.” + +He hurried Frank forward until they overtook the man, who had come to a +stand-still. + +“Have you found anything?” asked Dick. + +“Yes,” said the man, “I’ve found this.” + +He exhibited a wallet which seemed stuffed with bills, to judge from +its plethoric appearance. + +“Whew!” exclaimed Dick; “you’re in luck.” + +“I suppose somebody has lost it,” said the man, “and will offer a +handsome reward.” + +“Which you’ll get.” + +“Unfortunately I am obliged to take the next train to Boston. That’s +where I live. I haven’t time to hunt up the owner.” + +“Then I suppose you’ll take the pocket-book with you,” said Dick, with +assumed simplicity. + +“I should like to leave it with some honest fellow who would see it +returned to the owner,” said the man, glancing at the boys. + +“I’m honest,” said Dick. + +“I’ve no doubt of it,” said the other. “Well, young man, I’ll make you +an offer. You take the pocket-book—” + +“All right. Hand it over, then.” + +“Wait a minute. There must be a large sum inside. I shouldn’t wonder if +there might be a thousand dollars. The owner will probably give you a +hundred dollars reward.” + +“Why don’t you stay and get it?” asked Frank. + +“I would, only there is sickness in my family, and I must get home as +soon as possible. Just give me twenty dollars, and I’ll hand you the +pocket-book, and let you make whatever you can out of it. Come, that’s +a good offer. What do you say?” + +Dick was well dressed, so that the other did not regard it as at all +improbable that he might possess that sum. He was prepared, however, to +let him have it for less, if necessary. + +“Twenty dollars is a good deal of money,” said Dick, appearing to +hesitate. + +“You’ll get it back, and a good deal more,” said the stranger, +persuasively. + +“I don’t know but I shall. What would you do, Frank?” + +“I don’t know but I would,” said Frank, “if you’ve got the money.” He +was not a little surprised to think that Dick had so much by him. + +“I don’t know but I will,” said Dick, after some irresolution. “I guess +I won’t lose much.” + +“You can’t lose anything,” said the stranger briskly. “Only be quick, +for I must be on my way to the cars. I am afraid I shall miss them +now.” + +Dick pulled out a bill from his pocket, and handed it to the stranger, +receiving the pocket-book in return. At that moment a policeman turned +the corner, and the stranger, hurriedly thrusting the bill into his +pocket, without looking at it, made off with rapid steps. + +“What is there in the pocket-book, Dick?” asked Frank in some +excitement. “I hope there’s enough to pay you for the money you gave +him.” + +Dick laughed. + +“I’ll risk that,” said he. + +“But you gave him twenty dollars. That’s a good deal of money.” + +“If I had given him as much as that, I should deserve to be cheated out +of it.” + +“But you did,—didn’t you?” + +“He thought so.” + +“What was it, then?” + +“It was nothing but a dry-goods circular got up to imitate a +bank-bill.” + +Frank looked sober. + +“You ought not to have cheated him, Dick,” he said, reproachfully. + +“Didn’t he want to cheat me?” + +“I don’t know.” + +“What do you s’pose there is in that pocket-book?” asked Dick, holding +it up. + +Frank surveyed its ample proportions, and answered sincerely enough, +“Money, and a good deal of it.” + +“There aint stamps enough in it to buy a oyster-stew,” said Dick. “If +you don’t believe it, just look while I open it.” + +So saying he opened the pocket-book, and showed Frank that it was +stuffed out with pieces of blank paper, carefully folded up in the +shape of bills. Frank, who was unused to city life, and had never heard +anything of the “drop-game” looked amazed at this unexpected +development. + +“I knowed how it was all the time,” said Dick. “I guess I got the best +of him there. This wallet’s worth somethin’. I shall use it to keep my +stiffkit’s of Erie stock in, and all my other papers what aint of no +use to anybody but the owner.” + +“That’s the kind of papers it’s got in it now,” said Frank, smiling. + +“That’s so!” said Dick. + +“By hokey!” he exclaimed suddenly, “if there aint the old chap comin’ +back ag’in. He looks as if he’d heard bad news from his sick family.” + +By this time the pocket-book dropper had come up. + +Approaching the boys, he said in an undertone to Dick, “Give me back +that pocket-book, you young rascal!” + +“Beg your pardon, mister,” said Dick, “but was you addressin’ me?” + +“Yes, I was.” + +“’Cause you called me by the wrong name. I’ve knowed some rascals, but +I aint the honor to belong to the family.” + +He looked significantly at the other as he spoke, which didn’t improve +the man’s temper. Accustomed to swindle others, he did not fancy being +practised upon in return. + +“Give me back that pocket-book,” he repeated in a threatening voice. + +“Couldn’t do it,” said Dick, coolly. “I’m go’n’ to restore it to the +owner. The contents is so valooable that most likely the loss has made +him sick, and he’ll be likely to come down liberal to the honest +finder.” + +“You gave me a bogus bill,” said the man. + +“It’s what I use myself,” said Dick. + +“You’ve swindled me.” + +“I thought it was the other way.” + +“None of your nonsense,” said the man angrily. “If you don’t give up +that pocket-book, I’ll call a policeman.” + +“I wish you would,” said Dick. “They’ll know most likely whether it’s +Stewart or Astor that’s lost the pocket-book, and I can get ’em to +return it.” + +The “dropper,” whose object it was to recover the pocket-book, in order +to try the same game on a more satisfactory customer, was irritated by +Dick’s refusal, and above all by the coolness he displayed. He resolved +to make one more attempt. + +“Do you want to pass the night in the Tombs?” he asked. + +“Thank you for your very obligin’ proposal,” said Dick; “but it aint +convenient to-day. Any other time, when you’d like to have me come and +stop with you, I’m agreeable; but my two youngest children is down with +the measles, and I expect I’ll have to set up all night to take care of +’em. Is the Tombs, in gineral, a pleasant place of residence?” + +Dick asked this question with an air of so much earnestness that Frank +could scarcely forbear laughing, though it is hardly necessary to say +that the dropper was by no means so inclined. + +“You’ll know sometime,” he said, scowling. + +“I’ll make you a fair offer,” said Dick. “If I get more’n fifty dollars +as a reward for my honesty, I’ll divide with you. But I say, aint it +most time to go back to your sick family in Boston?” + +Finding that nothing was to be made out of Dick, the man strode away +with a muttered curse. + +“You were too smart for him, Dick,” said Frank. + +“Yes,” said Dick, “I aint knocked round the city streets all my life +for nothin’.” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. +DICK’S EARLY HISTORY + + +“Have you always lived in New York, Dick?” asked Frank, after a pause. + +“Ever since I can remember.” + +“I wish you’d tell me a little about yourself. Have you got any father +or mother?” + +“I aint got no mother. She died when I wasn’t but three years old. My +father went to sea; but he went off before mother died, and nothin’ was +ever heard of him. I expect he got wrecked, or died at sea.” + +“And what became of you when your mother died?” + +“The folks she boarded with took care of me, but they was poor, and +they couldn’t do much. When I was seven the woman died, and her husband +went out West, and then I had to scratch for myself.” + +“At seven years old!” exclaimed Frank, in amazement. + +“Yes,” said Dick, “I was a little feller to take care of myself, but,” +he continued with pardonable pride, “I did it.” + +“What could you do?” + +“Sometimes one thing, and sometimes another,” said Dick. “I changed my +business accordin’ as I had to. Sometimes I was a newsboy, and diffused +intelligence among the masses, as I heard somebody say once in a big +speech he made in the Park. Them was the times when Horace Greeley and +James Gordon Bennett made money.” + +“Through your enterprise?” suggested Frank. + +“Yes,” said Dick; “but I give it up after a while.” + +“What for?” + +“Well, they didn’t always put news enough in their papers, and people +wouldn’t buy ’em as fast as I wanted ’em to. So one mornin’ I was stuck +on a lot of Heralds, and I thought I’d make a sensation. So I called +out ‘GREAT NEWS! QUEEN VICTORIA ASSASSINATED!’ All my Heralds went off +like hot cakes, and I went off, too, but one of the gentlemen what got +sold remembered me, and said he’d have me took up, and that’s what made +me change my business.” + +“That wasn’t right, Dick,” said Frank. + +“I know it,” said Dick; “but lots of boys does it.” + +“That don’t make it any better.” + +“No,” said Dick, “I was sort of ashamed at the time, ’specially about +one poor old gentleman,—a Englishman he was. He couldn’t help cryin’ to +think the queen was dead, and his hands shook when he handed me the +money for the paper.” + +“What did you do next?” + +“I went into the match business,” said Dick; “but it was small sales +and small profits. Most of the people I called on had just laid in a +stock, and didn’t want to buy. So one cold night, when I hadn’t money +enough to pay for a lodgin’, I burned the last of my matches to keep me +from freezin’. But it cost too much to get warm that way, and I +couldn’t keep it up.” + +“You’ve seen hard times, Dick,” said Frank, compassionately. + +“Yes,” said Dick, “I’ve knowed what it was to be hungry and cold, with +nothin’ to eat or to warm me; but there’s one thing I never could do,” +he added, proudly. + +“What’s that?” + +“I never stole,” said Dick. “It’s mean and I wouldn’t do it.” + +“Were you ever tempted to?” + +“Lots of times. Once I had been goin’ round all day, and hadn’t sold +any matches, except three cents’ worth early in the mornin’. With that +I bought an apple, thinkin’ I should get some more bimeby. When evenin’ +come I was awful hungry. I went into a baker’s just to look at the +bread. It made me feel kind o’ good just to look at the bread and +cakes, and I thought maybe they would give me some. I asked ’em +wouldn’t they give me a loaf, and take their pay in matches. But they +said they’d got enough matches to last three months; so there wasn’t +any chance for a trade. While I was standin’ at the stove warmin’ me, +the baker went into a back room, and I felt so hungry I thought I would +take just one loaf, and go off with it. There was such a big pile I +don’t think he’d have known it.” + +“But you didn’t do it?” + +“No, I didn’t and I was glad of it, for when the man came in ag’in, he +said he wanted some one to carry some cake to a lady in St. Mark’s +Place. His boy was sick, and he hadn’t no one to send; so he told me +he’d give me ten cents if I would go. My business wasn’t very pressin’ +just then, so I went, and when I come back, I took my pay in bread and +cakes. Didn’t they taste good, though?” + +“So you didn’t stay long in the match business, Dick?” + +“No, I couldn’t sell enough to make it pay. Then there was some folks +that wanted me to sell cheaper to them; so I couldn’t make any profit. +There was one old lady—she was rich, too, for she lived in a big brick +house—beat me down so, that I didn’t make no profit at all; but she +wouldn’t buy without, and I hadn’t sold none that day; so I let her +have them. I don’t see why rich folks should be so hard upon a poor boy +that wants to make a livin’.” + +“There’s a good deal of meanness in the world, I’m afraid, Dick.” + +“If everybody was like you and your uncle,” said Dick, “there would be +some chance for poor people. If I was rich I’d try to help ’em along.” + +“Perhaps you will be rich sometime, Dick.” + +Dick shook his head. + +“I’m afraid all my wallets will be like this,” said Dick, indicating +the one he had received from the dropper, “and will be full of papers +what aint of no use to anybody except the owner.” + +“That depends very much on yourself, Dick,” said Frank. “Stewart wasn’t +always rich, you know.” + +“Wasn’t he?” + +“When he first came to New York as a young man he was a teacher, and +teachers are not generally very rich. At last he went into business, +starting in a small way, and worked his way up by degrees. But there +was one thing he determined in the beginning: that he would be strictly +honorable in all his dealings, and never overreach any one for the sake +of making money. If there was a chance for him, Dick, there is a chance +for you.” + +“He knowed enough to be a teacher, and I’m awful ignorant,” said Dick. + +“But you needn’t stay so.” + +“How can I help it?” + +“Can’t you learn at school?” + +“I can’t go to school ’cause I’ve got my livin’ to earn. It wouldn’t do +me much good if I learned to read and write, and just as I’d got +learned I starved to death.” + +“But are there no night-schools?” + +“Yes.” + +“Why don’t you go? I suppose you don’t work in the evenings.” + +“I never cared much about it,” said Dick, “and that’s the truth. But +since I’ve got to talkin’ with you, I think more about it. I guess I’ll +begin to go.” + +“I wish you would, Dick. You’ll make a smart man if you only get a +little education.” + +“Do you think so?” asked Dick, doubtfully. + +“I know so. A boy who has earned his own living since he was seven +years old must have something in him. I feel very much interested in +you, Dick. You’ve had a hard time of it so far in life, but I think +better times are in store. I want you to do well, and I feel sure you +can if you only try.” + +“You’re a good fellow,” said Dick, gratefully. “I’m afraid I’m a pretty +rough customer, but I aint as bad as some. I mean to turn over a new +leaf, and try to grow up ’spectable.” + +“There’ve been a great many boys begin as low down as you, Dick, that +have grown up respectable and honored. But they had to work pretty hard +for it.” + +“I’m willin’ to work hard,” said Dick. + +“And you must not only work hard, but work in the right way.” + +“What’s the right way?” + +“You began in the right way when you determined never to steal, or do +anything mean or dishonorable, however strongly tempted to do so. That +will make people have confidence in you when they come to know you. +But, in order to succeed well, you must manage to get as good an +education as you can. Until you do, you cannot get a position in an +office or counting-room, even to run errands.” + +“That’s so,” said Dick, soberly. “I never thought how awful ignorant I +was till now.” + +“That can be remedied with perseverance,” said Frank. “A year will do a +great deal for you.” + +“I’ll go to work and see what I can do,” said Dick, energetically. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. +A SCENE IN A THIRD AVENUE CAR + + +The boys had turned into Third Avenue, a long street, which, commencing +just below the Cooper Institute, runs out to Harlem. A man came out of +a side street, uttering at intervals a monotonous cry which sounded +like “glass puddin’.” + +“Glass pudding!” repeated Frank, looking in surprised wonder at Dick. +“What does he mean?” + +“Perhaps you’d like some,” said Dick. + +“I never heard of it before.” + +“Suppose you ask him what he charges for his puddin’.” + +Frank looked more narrowly at the man, and soon concluded that he was a +glazier. + +“Oh, I understand,” he said. “He means ‘glass put in.’” + +Frank’s mistake was not a singular one. The monotonous cry of these men +certainly sounds more like “glass puddin’,” than the words they intend +to utter. + +“Now,” said Dick, “where shall we go?” + +“I should like to see Central Park,” said Frank. “Is it far off?” + +“It is about a mile and a half from here,” said Dick. “This is +Twenty-ninth Street, and the Park begins at Fifty-ninth Street.” + +It may be explained, for the benefit of readers who have never visited +New York, that about a mile from the City Hall the cross-streets begin +to be numbered in regular order. There is a continuous line of houses +as far as One Hundred and Thirtieth Street, where may be found the +terminus of the Harlem line of horse-cars. When the entire island is +laid out and settled, probably the numbers will reach two hundred or +more. Central Park, which lies between Fifty-ninth Street on the south, +and One Hundred and Tenth Street on the north, is true to its name, +occupying about the centre of the island. The distance between two +parallel streets is called a block, and twenty blocks make a mile. It +will therefore be seen that Dick was exactly right, when he said they +were a mile and a half from Central Park. + +“That is too far to walk,” said Frank. + +“’Twon’t cost but six cents to ride,” said Dick. + +“You mean in the horse-cars?” + +“Yes.” + +“All right then. We’ll jump aboard the next car.” + +The Third Avenue and Harlem line of horse-cars is better patronized +than any other in New York, though not much can be said for the cars, +which are usually dirty and overcrowded. Still, when it is considered +that only seven cents are charged for the entire distance to Harlem, +about seven miles from the City Hall, the fare can hardly be complained +of. But of course most of the profit is made from the way-passengers +who only ride a short distance. + +A car was at that moment approaching, but it seemed pretty crowded. + +“Shall we take that, or wait for another?” asked Frank. + +“The next’ll most likely be as bad,” said Dick. + +The boys accordingly signalled to the conductor to stop, and got on the +front platform. They were obliged to stand up till the car reached +Fortieth Street, when so many of the passengers had got off that they +obtained seats. + +Frank sat down beside a middle-aged woman, or lady, as she probably +called herself, whose sharp visage and thin lips did not seem to +promise a very pleasant disposition. When the two gentlemen who sat +beside her arose, she spread her skirts in the endeavor to fill two +seats. Disregarding this, the boys sat down. + +“There aint room for two,” she said, looking sourly at Frank. + +“There were two here before.” + +“Well, there ought not to have been. Some people like to crowd in where +they’re not wanted.” + +“And some like to take up a double allowance of room,” thought Frank; +but he did not say so. He saw that the woman had a bad temper, and +thought it wisest to say nothing. + +Frank had never ridden up the city as far as this, and it was with much +interest that he looked out of the car windows at the stores on either +side. Third Avenue is a broad street, but in the character of its +houses and stores it is quite inferior to Broadway, though better than +some of the avenues further east. Fifth Avenue, as most of my readers +already know, is the finest street in the city, being lined with +splendid private residences, occupied by the wealthier classes. Many of +the cross streets also boast houses which may be considered palaces, so +elegant are they externally and internally. Frank caught glimpses of +some of these as he was carried towards the Park. + +After the first conversation, already mentioned, with the lady at his +side, he supposed he should have nothing further to do with her. But in +this he was mistaken. While he was busy looking out of the car window, +she plunged her hand into her pocket in search of her purse, which she +was unable to find. Instantly she jumped to the conclusion that it had +been stolen, and her suspicions fastened upon Frank, with whom she was +already provoked for “crowding her,” as she termed it. + +“Conductor!” she exclaimed in a sharp voice. + +“What’s wanted, ma’am?” returned that functionary. + +“I want you to come here right off.” + +“What’s the matter?” + +“My purse has been stolen. There was four dollars and eighty cents in +it. I know, because I counted it when I paid my fare.” + +“Who stole it?” + +“That boy,” she said pointing to Frank, who listened to the charge in +the most intense astonishment. “He crowded in here on purpose to rob +me, and I want you to search him right off.” + +“That’s a lie!” exclaimed Dick, indignantly. + +“Oh, you’re in league with him, I dare say,” said the woman spitefully. +“You’re as bad as he is, I’ll be bound.” + +“You’re a nice female, you be!” said Dick, ironically. + +“Don’t you dare to call me a female, sir,” said the lady, furiously. + +“Why, you aint a man in disguise, be you?” said Dick. + +“You are very much mistaken, madam,” said Frank, quietly. “The +conductor may search me, if you desire it.” + +A charge of theft, made in a crowded car, of course made quite a +sensation. Cautious passengers instinctively put their hands on their +pockets, to make sure that they, too, had not been robbed. As for +Frank, his face flushed, and he felt very indignant that he should even +be suspected of so mean a crime. He had been carefully brought up, and +been taught to regard stealing as low and wicked. + +Dick, on the contrary, thought it a capital joke that such a charge +should have been made against his companion. Though he had brought +himself up, and known plenty of boys and men, too, who would steal, he +had never done so himself. He thought it mean. But he could not be +expected to regard it as Frank did. He had been too familiar with it in +others to look upon it with horror. + +Meanwhile the passengers rather sided with the boys. Appearances go a +great ways, and Frank did not look like a thief. + +“I think you must be mistaken, madam,” said a gentleman sitting +opposite. “The lad does not look as if he would steal.” + +“You can’t tell by looks,” said the lady, sourly. “They’re deceitful; +villains are generally well dressed.” + +“Be they?” said Dick. “You’d ought to see me with my Washington coat +on. You’d think I was the biggest villain ever you saw.” + +“I’ve no doubt you are,” said the lady, scowling in the direction of +our hero. + +“Thank you, ma’am,” said Dick. “’Tisn’t often I get such fine +compliments.” + +“None of your impudence,” said the lady, wrathfully. “I believe you’re +the worst of the two.” + +Meanwhile the car had been stopped. + +“How long are we going to stop here?” demanded a passenger, +impatiently. “I’m in a hurry, if none of the rest of you are.” + +“I want my pocket-book,” said the lady, defiantly. + +“Well, ma’am, I haven’t got it, and I don’t see as it’s doing you any +good detaining us all here.” + +“Conductor, will you call a policeman to search that young scamp?” +continued the aggrieved lady. “You don’t expect I’m going to lose my +money, and do nothing about it.” + +“I’ll turn my pockets inside out if you want me to,” said Frank, +proudly. “There’s no need of a policeman. The conductor, or any one +else, may search me.” + +“Well, youngster,” said the conductor, “if the lady agrees, I’ll search +you.” + +The lady signified her assent. + +Frank accordingly turned his pockets inside out, but nothing was +revealed except his own porte-monnaie and a penknife. + +“Well, ma’am, are you satisfied?” asked the conductor. + +“No, I aint,” said she, decidedly. + +“You don’t think he’s got it still?” + +“No, but he’s passed it over to his confederate, that boy there that’s +so full of impudence.” + +“That’s me,” said Dick, comically. + +“He confesses it,” said the lady; “I want him searched.” + +“All right,” said Dick, “I’m ready for the operation, only, as I’ve got +valooable property about me, be careful not to drop any of my Erie +Bonds.” + +The conductor’s hand forthwith dove into Dick’s pocket, and drew out a +rusty jack-knife, a battered cent, about fifty cents in change, and the +capacious pocket-book which he had received from the swindler who was +anxious to get back to his sick family in Boston. + +“Is that yours, ma’am?” asked the conductor, holding up the wallet +which excited some amazement, by its size, among the other passengers. + +“It seems to me you carry a large pocket-book for a young man of your +age,” said the conductor. + +“That’s what I carry my cash and valooable papers in,” said Dick. + +“I suppose that isn’t yours, ma’am,” said the conductor, turning to the +lady. + +“No,” said she, scornfully. “I wouldn’t carry round such a great wallet +as that. Most likely he’s stolen it from somebody else.” + +“What a prime detective you’d be!” said Dick. “P’rhaps you know who I +took it from.” + +“I don’t know but my money’s in it,” said the lady, sharply. +“Conductor, will you open that wallet, and see what there is in it?” + +“Don’t disturb the valooable papers,” said Dick, in a tone of pretended +anxiety. + +The contents of the wallet excited some amusement among the passengers. + +“There don’t seem to be much money here,” said the conductor, taking +out a roll of tissue paper cut out in the shape of bills, and rolled +up. + +“No,” said Dick. “Didn’t I tell you them were papers of no valoo to +anybody but the owner? If the lady’d like to borrow, I won’t charge no +interest.” + +“Where is my money, then?” said the lady, in some discomfiture. “I +shouldn’t wonder if one of the young scamps had thrown it out of the +window.” + +“You’d better search your pocket once more,” said the gentleman +opposite. “I don’t believe either of the boys is in fault. They don’t +look to me as if they would steal.” + +“Thank you, sir,” said Frank. + +The lady followed out the suggestion, and, plunging her hand once more +into her pocket, drew out a small porte-monnaie. She hardly knew +whether to be glad or sorry at this discovery. It placed her in rather +an awkward position after the fuss she had made, and the detention to +which she had subjected the passengers, now, as it proved, for nothing. + +“Is that the pocket-book you thought stolen?” asked the conductor. + +“Yes,” said she, rather confusedly. + +“Then you’ve been keeping me waiting all this time for nothing,” he +said, sharply. “I wish you’d take care to be sure next time before you +make such a disturbance for nothing. I’ve lost five minutes, and shall +not be on time.” + +“I can’t help it,” was the cross reply; “I didn’t know it was in my +pocket.” + +“It seems to me you owe an apology to the boys you accused of a theft +which they have not committed,” said the gentleman opposite. + +“I shan’t apologize to anybody,” said the lady, whose temper was not of +the best; “least of all to such whipper-snappers as they are.” + +“Thank you, ma’am,” said Dick, comically; “your handsome apology is +accepted. It aint of no consequence, only I didn’t like to expose the +contents of my valooable pocket-book, for fear it might excite the envy +of some of my poor neighbors.” + +“You’re a character,” said the gentleman who had already spoken, with a +smile. + +“A bad character!” muttered the lady. + +But it was quite evident that the sympathies of those present were +against the lady, and on the side of the boys who had been falsely +accused, while Dick’s drollery had created considerable amusement. + +The cars had now reached Fifty-ninth Street, the southern boundary of +the Park, and here our hero and his companion got off. + +“You’d better look out for pickpockets, my lad,” said the conductor, +pleasantly. “That big wallet of yours might prove a great temptation.” + +“That’s so,” said Dick. “That’s the misfortin’ of being rich. Astor and +me don’t sleep much for fear of burglars breakin’ in and robbin’ us of +our valooable treasures. Sometimes I think I’ll give all my money to an +Orphan Asylum, and take it out in board. I guess I’d make money by the +operation.” + +While Dick was speaking, the car rolled away, and the boys turned up +Fifty-ninth Street, for two long blocks yet separated them from the +Park. + + + + +CHAPTER X. +INTRODUCES A VICTIM OF MISPLACED CONFIDENCE + + +“What a queer chap you are, Dick!” said Frank, laughing. “You always +seem to be in good spirits.” + +“No, I aint always. Sometimes I have the blues.” + +“When?” + +“Well, once last winter it was awful cold, and there was big holes in +my shoes, and my gloves and all my warm clothes was at the tailor’s. I +felt as if life was sort of tough, and I’d like it if some rich man +would adopt me, and give me plenty to eat and drink and wear, without +my havin’ to look so sharp after it. Then agin’ when I’ve seen boys +with good homes, and fathers, and mothers, I’ve thought I’d like to +have somebody to care for me.” + +Dick’s tone changed as he said this, from his usual levity, and there +was a touch of sadness in it. Frank, blessed with a good home and +indulgent parents, could not help pitying the friendless boy who had +found life such up-hill work. + +“Don’t say you have no one to care for you, Dick,” he said, lightly +laying his hand on Dick’s shoulder. “I will care for you.” + +“Will you?” + +“If you will let me.” + +“I wish you would,” said Dick, earnestly. “I’d like to feel that I have +one friend who cares for me.” + +Central Park was now before them, but it was far from presenting the +appearance which it now exhibits. It had not been long since work had +been commenced upon it, and it was still very rough and unfinished. A +rough tract of land, two miles and a half from north to south, and a +half a mile broad, very rocky in parts, was the material from which the +Park Commissioners have made the present beautiful enclosure. There +were no houses of good appearance near it, buildings being limited +mainly to rude temporary huts used by the workmen who were employed in +improving it. The time will undoubtedly come when the Park will be +surrounded by elegant residences, and compare favorably in this respect +with the most attractive parts of any city in the world. But at the +time when Frank and Dick visited it, not much could be said in favor +either of the Park or its neighborhood. + +“If this is Central Park,” said Frank, who naturally felt disappointed, +“I don’t think much of it. My father’s got a large pasture that is much +nicer.” + +“It’ll look better some time,” said Dick. “There aint much to see now +but rocks. We will take a walk over it if you want to.” + +“No,” said Frank, “I’ve seen as much of it as I want to. Besides, I +feel tired.” + +“Then we’ll go back. We can take the Sixth Avenue cars. They will bring +us out at Vesey Street just beside the Astor House.” + +“All right,” said Frank. “That will be the best course. I hope,” he +added, laughing, “our agreeable lady friend won’t be there. I don’t +care about being accused of _stealing_ again.” + +“She was a tough one,” said Dick. “Wouldn’t she make a nice wife for a +man that likes to live in hot water, and didn’t mind bein’ scalded two +or three times a day?” + +“Yes, I think she’d just suit him. Is that the right car, Dick?” + +“Yes, jump in, and I’ll follow.” + +The Sixth Avenue is lined with stores, many of them of very good +appearance, and would make a very respectable principal street for a +good-sized city. But it is only one of several long business streets +which run up the island, and illustrate the extent and importance of +the city to which they belong. + +No incidents worth mentioning took place during their ride down town. +In about three-quarters of an hour the boys got out of the car beside +the Astor House. + +“Are you goin’ in now, Frank?” asked Dick. + +“That depends upon whether you have anything else to show me.” + +“Wouldn’t you like to go to Wall Street?” + +“That’s the street where there are so many bankers and brokers,—isn’t +it?” + +“Yes, I s’pose you aint afraid of bulls and bears,—are you?” + +“Bulls and bears?” repeated Frank, puzzled. + +“Yes.” + +“What are they?” + +“The bulls is what tries to make the stocks go up, and the bears is +what try to growl ’em down.” + +“Oh, I see. Yes, I’d like to go.” + +Accordingly they walked down on the west side of Broadway as far as +Trinity Church, and then, crossing, entered a street not very wide or +very long, but of very great importance. The reader would be astonished +if he could know the amount of money involved in the transactions which +take place in a single day in this street. It would be found that +although Broadway is much greater in length, and lined with stores, it +stands second to Wall Street in this respect. + +“What is that large marble building?” asked Frank, pointing to a +massive structure on the corner of Wall and Nassau Streets. It was in +the form of a parallelogram, two hundred feet long by ninety wide, and +about eighty feet in height, the ascent to the entrance being by +eighteen granite steps. + +“That’s the Custom House,” said Dick. + +“It looks like pictures I’ve seen of the Parthenon at Athens,” said +Frank, meditatively. + +“Where’s Athens?” asked Dick. “It aint in York State,—is it?” + +“Not the Athens I mean, at any rate. It is in Greece, and was a famous +city two thousand years ago.” + +“That’s longer than I can remember,” said Dick. “I can’t remember +distinctly more’n about a thousand years.” + +“What a chap you are, Dick! Do you know if we can go in?” + +The boys ascertained, after a little inquiry, that they would be +allowed to do so. They accordingly entered the Custom House and made +their way up to the roof, from which they had a fine view of the +harbor, the wharves crowded with shipping, and the neighboring shores +of Long Island and New Jersey. Towards the north they looked down for +many miles upon continuous lines of streets, and thousands of roofs, +with here and there a church-spire rising above its neighbors. Dick had +never before been up there, and he, as well as Frank, was interested in +the grand view spread before them. + +At length they descended, and were going down the granite steps on the +outside of the building, when they were addressed by a young man, whose +appearance is worth describing. + +He was tall, and rather loosely put together, with small eyes and +rather a prominent nose. His clothing had evidently not been furnished +by a city tailor. He wore a blue coat with brass buttons, and +pantaloons of rather scanty dimensions, which were several inches too +short to cover his lower limbs. He held in his hand a piece of paper, +and his countenance wore a look of mingled bewilderment and anxiety. + +“Be they a-payin’ out money inside there?” he asked, indicating the +interior by a motion of his hand. + +“I guess so,” said Dick. “Are you a-goin’ in for some?” + +“Wal, yes. I’ve got an order here for sixty dollars,—made a kind of +speculation this morning.” + +“How was it?” asked Frank. + +“Wal, you see I brought down some money to put in the bank, fifty +dollars it was, and I hadn’t justly made up my mind what bank to put it +into, when a chap came up in a terrible hurry, and said it was very +unfortunate, but the bank wasn’t open, and he must have some money +right off. He was obliged to go out of the city by the next train. I +asked him how much he wanted. He said fifty dollars. I told him I’d got +that, and he offered me a check on the bank for sixty, and I let him +have it. I thought that was a pretty easy way to earn ten dollars, so I +counted out the money and he went off. He told me I’d hear a bell ring +when they began to pay out money. But I’ve waited most two hours, and I +haint heard it yet. I’d ought to be goin’, for I told dad I’d be home +to-night. Do you think I can get the money now?” + +“Will you show me the check?” asked Frank, who had listened attentively +to the countryman’s story, and suspected that he had been made the +victim of a swindler. It was made out upon the “Washington Bank,” in +the sum of sixty dollars, and was signed “Ephraim Smith.” + +“Washington Bank!” repeated Frank. “Dick, is there such a bank in the +city?” + +“Not as I knows on,” said Dick. “Leastways I don’t own any shares in +it.” + +“Aint this the Washington Bank?” asked the countryman, pointing to the +building on the steps of which the three were now standing. + +“No, it’s the Custom House.” + +“And won’t they give me any money for this?” asked the young man, the +perspiration standing on his brow. + +“I am afraid the man who gave it to you was a swindler,” said Frank, +gently. + +“And won’t I ever see my fifty dollars again?” asked the youth in +agony. + +“I am afraid not.” + +“What’ll dad say?” ejaculated the miserable youth. “It makes me feel +sick to think of it. I wish I had the feller here. I’d shake him out of +his boots.” + +“What did he look like? I’ll call a policeman and you shall describe +him. Perhaps in that way you can get track of your money.” + +Dick called a policeman, who listened to the description, and +recognized the operator as an experienced swindler. He assured the +countryman that there was very little chance of his ever seeing his +money again. The boys left the miserable youth loudly bewailing his bad +luck, and proceeded on their way down the street. + +“He’s a baby,” said Dick, contemptuously. “He’d ought to know how to +take care of himself and his money. A feller has to look sharp in this +city, or he’ll lose his eye-teeth before he knows it.” + +“I suppose you never got swindled out of fifty dollars, Dick?” + +“No, I don’t carry no such small bills. I wish I did,” he added. + +“So do I, Dick. What’s that building there at the end of the street?” + +“That’s the Wall-Street Ferry to Brooklyn.” + +“How long does it take to go across?” + +“Not more’n five minutes.” + +“Suppose we just ride over and back.” + +“All right!” said Dick. “It’s rather expensive; but if you don’t mind, +I don’t.” + +“Why, how much does it cost?” + +“Two cents apiece.” + +“I guess I can stand that. Let us go.” + +They passed the gate, paying the fare to a man who stood at the +entrance, and were soon on the ferry-boat, bound for Brooklyn. + +They had scarcely entered the boat, when Dick, grasping Frank by the +arm, pointed to a man just outside of the gentlemen’s cabin. + +“Do you see that man, Frank?” he inquired. + +“Yes, what of him?” + +“He’s the man that cheated the country chap out of his fifty dollars.” + + + + +CHAPTER XI. +DICK AS A DETECTIVE + + +Dick’s ready identification of the rogue who had cheated the +countryman, surprised Frank. + +“What makes you think it is he?” he asked. + +“Because I’ve seen him before, and I know he’s up to them kind of +tricks. When I heard how he looked, I was sure I knowed him.” + +“Our recognizing him won’t be of much use,” said Frank. “It won’t give +back the countryman his money.” + +“I don’t know,” said Dick, thoughtfully. “May be I can get it.” + +“How?” asked Frank, incredulously. + +“Wait a minute, and you’ll see.” + +Dick left his companion, and went up to the man whom he suspected. + +“Ephraim Smith,” said Dick, in a low voice. + +The man turned suddenly, and looked at Dick uneasily. + +“What did you say?” he asked. + +“I believe your name is Ephraim Smith,” continued Dick. + +“You’re mistaken,” said the man, and was about to move off. + +“Stop a minute,” said Dick. “Don’t you keep your money in the +Washington Bank?” + +“I don’t know any such bank. I’m in a hurry, young man, and I can’t +stop to answer any foolish questions.” + +The boat had by this time reached the Brooklyn pier, and Mr. Ephraim +Smith seemed in a hurry to land. + +“Look here,” said Dick, significantly; “you’d better not go on shore +unless you want to jump into the arms of a policeman.” + +“What do you mean?” asked the man, startled. + +“That little affair of yours is known to the police,” said Dick; “about +how you got fifty dollars out of a greenhorn on a false check, and it +mayn’t be safe for you to go ashore.” + +“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the swindler with +affected boldness, though Dick could see that he was ill at ease. + +“Yes you do,” said Dick. “There isn’t but one thing to do. Just give me +back that money, and I’ll see that you’re not touched. If you don’t, +I’ll give you up to the first p’liceman we meet.” + +Dick looked so determined, and spoke so confidently, that the other, +overcome by his fears, no longer hesitated, but passed a roll of bills +to Dick and hastily left the boat. + +All this Frank witnessed with great amazement, not understanding what +influence Dick could have obtained over the swindler sufficient to +compel restitution. + +“How did you do it?” he asked eagerly. + +“I told him I’d exert my influence with the president to have him tried +by _habeas corpus_,” said Dick. + +“And of course that frightened him. But tell me, without joking, how +you managed.” + +Dick gave a truthful account of what occurred, and then said, “Now +we’ll go back and carry the money.” + +“Suppose we don’t find the poor countryman?” + +“Then the p’lice will take care of it.” + +They remained on board the boat, and in five minutes were again in New +York. Going up Wall Street, they met the countryman a little distance +from the Custom House. His face was marked with the traces of deep +anguish; but in his case even grief could not subdue the cravings of +appetite. He had purchased some cakes of one of the old women who +spread out for the benefit of passers-by an array of apples and +seed-cakes, and was munching them with melancholy satisfaction. + +“Hilloa!” said Dick. “Have you found your money?” + +“No,” ejaculated the young man, with a convulsive gasp. “I shan’t ever +see it again. The mean skunk’s cheated me out of it. Consarn his +picter! It took me most six months to save it up. I was workin’ for +Deacon Pinkham in our place. Oh, I wish I’d never come to New York! The +deacon, he told me he’d keep it for me; but I wanted to put it in the +bank, and now it’s all gone, boo hoo!” + +And the miserable youth, having despatched his cakes, was so overcome +by the thought of his loss that he burst into tears. + +“I say,” said Dick, “dry up, and see what I’ve got here.” + +The youth no sooner saw the roll of bills, and comprehended that it was +indeed his lost treasure, than from the depths of anguish he was +exalted to the most ecstatic joy. He seized Dick’s hand, and shook it +with so much energy that our hero began to feel rather alarmed for its +safety. + +“’Pears to me you take my arm for a pump-handle,” said he. “Couldn’t +you show your gratitood some other way? It’s just possible I may want +to use my arm ag’in some time.” + +The young man desisted, but invited Dick most cordially to come up and +stop a week with him at his country home, assuring him that he wouldn’t +charge him anything for board. + +“All right!” said Dick. “If you don’t mind I’ll bring my wife along, +too. She’s delicate, and the country air might do her good.” + +Jonathan stared at him in amazement, uncertain whether to credit the +fact of his marriage. Dick walked on with Frank, leaving him in an +apparent state of stupefaction, and it is possible that he has not yet +settled the affair to his satisfaction. + +“Now,” said Frank, “I think I’ll go back to the Astor House. Uncle has +probably got through his business and returned.” + +“All right,” said Dick. + +The two boys walked up to Broadway, just where the tall steeple of +Trinity faces the street of bankers and brokers, and walked leisurely +to the hotel. When they arrived at the Astor House, Dick said, +“Good-by, Frank.” + +“Not yet,” said Frank; “I want you to come in with me.” + +Dick followed his young patron up the steps. Frank went to the +reading-room, where, as he had thought probable, he found his uncle +already arrived, and reading a copy of “The Evening Post,” which he had +just purchased outside. + +“Well, boys,” he said, looking up, “have you had a pleasant jaunt?” + +“Yes, sir,” said Frank. “Dick’s a capital guide.” + +“So this is Dick,” said Mr. Whitney, surveying him with a smile. “Upon +my word, I should hardly have known him. I must congratulate him on his +improved appearance.” + +“Frank’s been very kind to me,” said Dick, who, rough street-boy as he +was, had a heart easily touched by kindness, of which he had never +experienced much. “He’s a tip-top fellow.” + +“I believe he is a good boy,” said Mr. Whitney. “I hope, my lad, you +will prosper and rise in the world. You know in this free country +poverty in early life is no bar to a man’s advancement. I haven’t risen +very high myself,” he added, with a smile, “but have met with moderate +success in life; yet there was a time when I was as poor as you.” + +“Were you, sir,” asked Dick, eagerly. + +“Yes, my boy, I have known the time I have been obliged to go without +my dinner because I didn’t have enough money to pay for it.” + +“How did you get up in the world,” asked Dick, anxiously. + +“I entered a printing-office as an apprentice, and worked for some +years. Then my eyes gave out and I was obliged to give that up. Not +knowing what else to do, I went into the country, and worked on a farm. +After a while I was lucky enough to invent a machine, which has brought +me in a great deal of money. But there was one thing I got while I was +in the printing-office which I value more than money.” + +“What was that, sir?” + +“A taste for reading and study. During my leisure hours I improved +myself by study, and acquired a large part of the knowledge which I now +possess. Indeed, it was one of my books that first put me on the track +of the invention, which I afterwards made. So you see, my lad, that my +studious habits paid me in money, as well as in another way.” + +“I’m awful ignorant,” said Dick, soberly. + +“But you are young, and, I judge, a smart boy. If you try to learn, you +can, and if you ever expect to do anything in the world, you must know +something of books.” + +“I will,” said Dick, resolutely. “I aint always goin’ to black boots +for a livin’.” + +“All labor is respectable, my lad, and you have no cause to be ashamed +of any honest business; yet when you can get something to do that +promises better for your future prospects, I advise you to do so. Till +then earn your living in the way you are accustomed to, avoid +extravagance, and save up a little money if you can.” + +“Thank you for your advice,” said our hero. “There aint many that takes +an interest in Ragged Dick.” + +“So that’s your name,” said Mr. Whitney. “If I judge you rightly, it +won’t be long before you change it. Save your money, my lad, buy books, +and determine to be somebody, and you may yet fill an honorable +position.” + +“I’ll try,” said Dick. “Good-night, sir.” + +“Wait a minute, Dick,” said Frank. “Your blacking-box and old clothes +are upstairs. You may want them.” + +“In course,” said Dick. “I couldn’t get along without my best clothes, +and my stock in trade.” + +“You may go up to the room with him, Frank,” said Mr. Whitney. “The +clerk will give you the key. I want to see you, Dick, before you go.” + +“Yes, sir,” said Dick. + +“Where are you going to sleep to-night, Dick?” asked Frank, as they +went upstairs together. + +“P’r’aps at the Fifth Avenue Hotel—on the outside,” said Dick. + +“Haven’t you any place to sleep, then?” + +“I slept in a box, last night.” + +“In a box?” + +“Yes, on Spruce Street.” + +“Poor fellow!” said Frank, compassionately. + +“Oh, ’twas a bully bed—full of straw! I slept like a top.” + +“Don’t you earn enough to pay for a room, Dick?” + +“Yes,” said Dick; “only I spend my money foolish, goin’ to the Old +Bowery, and Tony Pastor’s, and sometimes gamblin’ in Baxter Street.” + +“You won’t gamble any more,—will you, Dick?” said Frank, laying his +hand persuasively on his companion’s shoulder. + +“No, I won’t,” said Dick. + +“You’ll promise?” + +“Yes, and I’ll keep it. You’re a good feller. I wish you was goin’ to +be in New York.” + +“I am going to a boarding-school in Connecticut. The name of the town +is Barnton. Will you write to me, Dick?” + +“My writing would look like hens’ tracks,” said our hero. + +“Never mind. I want you to write. When you write you can tell me how to +direct, and I will send you a letter.” + +“I wish you would,” said Dick. “I wish I was more like you.” + +“I hope you will make a much better boy, Dick. Now we’ll go in to my +uncle. He wishes to see you before you go.” + +They went into the reading-room. Dick had wrapped up his blacking-brush +in a newspaper with which Frank had supplied him, feeling that a guest +of the Astor House should hardly be seen coming out of the hotel +displaying such a professional sign. + +“Uncle, Dick’s ready to go,” said Frank. + +“Good-by, my lad,” said Mr. Whitney. “I hope to hear good accounts of +you sometime. Don’t forget what I have told you. Remember that your +future position depends mainly upon yourself, and that it will be high +or low as you choose to make it.” + +He held out his hand, in which was a five-dollar bill. Dick shrunk +back. + +“I don’t like to take it,” he said. “I haven’t earned it.” + +“Perhaps not,” said Mr. Whitney; “but I give it to you because I +remember my own friendless youth. I hope it may be of service to you. +Sometime when you are a prosperous man, you can repay it in the form of +aid to some poor boy, who is struggling upward as you are now.” + +“I will, sir,” said Dick, manfully. + +He no longer refused the money, but took it gratefully, and, bidding +Frank and his uncle good-by, went out into the street. A feeling of +loneliness came over him as he left the presence of Frank, for whom he +had formed a strong attachment in the few hours he had known him. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. +DICK HIRES A ROOM ON MOTT STREET + + +Going out into the fresh air Dick felt the pangs of hunger. He +accordingly went to a restaurant and got a substantial supper. Perhaps +it was the new clothes he wore, which made him feel a little more +aristocratic. At all events, instead of patronizing the cheap +restaurant where he usually procured his meals, he went into the +refectory attached to Lovejoy’s Hotel, where the prices were higher and +the company more select. In his ordinary dress, Dick would have been +excluded, but now he had the appearance of a very respectable, +gentlemanly boy, whose presence would not discredit any establishment. +His orders were therefore received with attention by the waiter and in +due time a good supper was placed before him. + +“I wish I could come here every day,” thought Dick. “It seems kind o’ +nice and ’spectable, side of the other place. There’s a gent at that +other table that I’ve shined boots for more’n once. He don’t know me in +my new clothes. Guess he don’t know his boot-black patronizes the same +establishment.” + +His supper over, Dick went up to the desk, and, presenting his check, +tendered in payment his five-dollar bill, as if it were one of a large +number which he possessed. Receiving back his change he went out into +the street. + +Two questions now arose: How should he spend the evening, and where +should he pass the night? Yesterday, with such a sum of money in his +possession, he would have answered both questions readily. For the +evening, he would have passed it at the Old Bowery, and gone to sleep +in any out-of-the-way place that offered. But he had turned over a new +leaf, or resolved to do so. He meant to save his money for some useful +purpose,—to aid his advancement in the world. So he could not afford +the theatre. Besides, with his new clothes, he was unwilling to pass +the night out of doors. + +“I should spile ’em,” he thought, “and that wouldn’t pay.” + +So he determined to hunt up a room which he could occupy regularly, and +consider as his own, where he could sleep nights, instead of depending +on boxes and old wagons for a chance shelter. This would be the first +step towards respectability, and Dick determined to take it. + +He accordingly passed through the City Hall Park, and walked leisurely +up Centre Street. + +He decided that it would hardly be advisable for him to seek lodgings +in Fifth Avenue, although his present cash capital consisted of nearly +five dollars in money, besides the valuable papers contained in his +wallet. Besides, he had reason to doubt whether any in his line of +business lived on that aristocratic street. He took his way to Mott +Street, which is considerably less pretentious, and halted in front of +a shabby brick lodging-house kept by a Mrs. Mooney, with whose son Tom, +Dick was acquainted. + +Dick rang the bell, which sent back a shrill metallic response. + +The door was opened by a slatternly servant, who looked at him +inquiringly, and not without curiosity. It must be remembered that Dick +was well dressed, and that nothing in his appearance bespoke his +occupation. Being naturally a good-looking boy, he might readily be +mistaken for a gentleman’s son. + +“Well, Queen Victoria,” said Dick, “is your missus at home?” + +“My name’s Bridget,” said the girl. + +“Oh, indeed!” said Dick. “You looked so much like the queen’s picter +what she gave me last Christmas in exchange for mine, that I couldn’t +help calling you by her name.” + +“Oh, go along wid ye!” said Bridget. “It’s makin’ fun ye are.” + +“If you don’t believe me,” said Dick, gravely, “all you’ve got to do is +to ask my partic’lar friend, the Duke of Newcastle.” + +“Bridget!” called a shrill voice from the basement. + +“The missus is calling me,” said Bridget, hurriedly. “I’ll tell her ye +want her.” + +“All right!” said Dick. + +The servant descended into the lower regions, and in a short time a +stout, red-faced woman appeared on the scene. + +“Well, sir, what’s your wish?” she asked. + +“Have you got a room to let?” asked Dick. + +“Is it for yourself you ask?” questioned the woman, in some surprise. + +Dick answered in the affirmative. + +“I haven’t got any very good rooms vacant. There’s a small room in the +third story.” + +“I’d like to see it,” said Dick. + +“I don’t know as it would be good enough for you,” said the woman, with +a glance at Dick’s clothes. + +“I aint very partic’lar about accommodations,” said our hero. “I guess +I’ll look at it.” + +Dick followed the landlady up two narrow stair-cases, uncarpeted and +dirty, to the third landing, where he was ushered into a room about ten +feet square. It could not be considered a very desirable apartment. It +had once been covered with an oilcloth carpet, but this was now very +ragged, and looked worse than none. There was a single bed in the +corner, covered with an indiscriminate heap of bed-clothing, rumpled +and not over-clean. There was a bureau, with the veneering scratched +and in some parts stripped off, and a small glass, eight inches by ten, +cracked across the middle; also two chairs in rather a disjointed +condition. Judging from Dick’s appearance, Mrs. Mooney thought he would +turn from it in disdain. + +But it must be remembered that Dick’s past experience had not been of a +character to make him fastidious. In comparison with a box, or an empty +wagon, even this little room seemed comfortable. He decided to hire it +if the rent proved reasonable. + +“Well, what’s the tax?” asked Dick. + +“I ought to have a dollar a week,” said Mrs. Mooney, hesitatingly. + +“Say seventy-five cents, and I’ll take it,” said Dick. + +“Every week in advance?” + +“Yes.” + +“Well, as times is hard, and I can’t afford to keep it empty, you may +have it. When will you come?” + +“To-night,” said Dick. + +“It aint lookin’ very neat. I don’t know as I can fix it up to-night.” + +“Well, I’ll sleep here to-night, and you can fix it up to-morrow.” + +“I hope you’ll excuse the looks. I’m a lone woman, and my help is so +shiftless, I have to look after everything myself; so I can’t keep +things as straight as I want to.” + +“All right!” said Dick. + +“Can you pay me the first week in advance?” asked the landlady, +cautiously. + +Dick responded by drawing seventy-five cents from his pocket, and +placing it in her hand. + +“What’s your business, sir, if I may inquire?” said Mrs. Mooney. + +“Oh, I’m professional!” said Dick. + +“Indeed!” said the landlady, who did not feel much enlightened by this +answer. + +“How’s Tom?” asked Dick. + +“Do you know my Tom?” said Mrs. Mooney in surprise. “He’s gone to +sea,—to Californy. He went last week.” + +“Did he?” said Dick. “Yes, I knew him.” + +Mrs. Mooney looked upon her new lodger with increased favor, on finding +that he was acquainted with her son, who, by the way, was one of the +worst young scamps in Mott Street, which is saying considerable. + +“I’ll bring over my baggage from the Astor House this evening,” said +Dick in a tone of importance. + +“From the Astor House!” repeated Mrs. Mooney, in fresh amazement. + +“Yes, I’ve been stoppin’ there a short time with some friends,” said +Dick. + +Mrs. Mooney might be excused for a little amazement at finding that a +guest from the Astor House was about to become one of her lodgers—such +transfers not being common. + +“Did you say you was purfessional?” she asked. + +“Yes, ma’am,” said Dick, politely. + +“You aint a—a—” Mrs. Mooney paused, uncertain what conjecture to +hazard. + +“Oh, no, nothing of the sort,” said Dick, promptly. “How could you +think so, Mrs. Mooney?” + +“No offence, sir,” said the landlady, more perplexed than ever. + +“Certainly not,” said our hero. “But you must excuse me now, Mrs. +Mooney, as I have business of great importance to attend to.” + +“You’ll come round this evening?” + +Dick answered in the affirmative, and turned away. + +“I wonder what he is!” thought the landlady, following him with her +eyes as he crossed the street. “He’s got good clothes on, but he don’t +seem very particular about his room. Well; I’ve got all my rooms full +now. That’s one comfort.” + +Dick felt more comfortable now that he had taken the decisive step of +hiring a lodging, and paying a week’s rent in advance. For seven nights +he was sure of a shelter and a bed to sleep in. The thought was a +pleasant one to our young vagrant, who hitherto had seldom known when +he rose in the morning where he should find a resting-place at night. + +“I must bring my traps round,” said Dick to himself. “I guess I’ll go +to bed early to-night. It’ll feel kinder good to sleep in a reg’lar +bed. Boxes is rather hard to the back, and aint comfortable in case of +rain. I wonder what Johnny Nolan would say if he knew I’d got a room of +my own.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. +MICKY MAGUIRE + + +About nine o’clock Dick sought his new lodgings. In his hands he +carried his professional wardrobe, namely, the clothes which he had +worn at the commencement of the day, and the implements of his +business. These he stowed away in the bureau drawers, and by the light +of a flickering candle took off his clothes and went to bed. Dick had a +good digestion and a reasonably good conscience; consequently he was a +good sleeper. Perhaps, too, the soft feather bed conduced to slumber. +At any rate his eyes were soon closed, and he did not awake until +half-past six the next morning. + +He lifted himself on his elbow, and stared around him in transient +bewilderment. + +“Blest if I hadn’t forgot where I was,” he said to himself. “So this is +my room, is it? Well, it seems kind of ’spectable to have a room and a +bed to sleep in. I’d orter be able to afford seventy-five cents a week. +I’ve throwed away more money than that in one evenin’. There aint no +reason why I shouldn’t live ’spectable. I wish I knowed as much as +Frank. He’s a tip-top feller. Nobody ever cared enough for me before to +give me good advice. It was kicks, and cuffs, and swearin’ at me all +the time. I’d like to show him I can do something.” + +While Dick was indulging in these reflections, he had risen from bed, +and, finding an accession to the furniture of his room, in the shape of +an ancient wash-stand bearing a cracked bowl and broken pitcher, +indulged himself in the rather unusual ceremony of a good wash. On the +whole, Dick preferred to be clean, but it was not always easy to +gratify his desire. Lodging in the street as he had been accustomed to +do, he had had no opportunity to perform his toilet in the customary +manner. Even now he found himself unable to arrange his dishevelled +locks, having neither comb nor brush. He determined to purchase a comb, +at least, as soon as possible, and a brush too, if he could get one +cheap. Meanwhile he combed his hair with his fingers as well as he +could, though the result was not quite so satisfactory as it might have +been. + +A question now came up for consideration. For the first time in his +life Dick possessed two suits of clothes. Should he put on the clothes +Frank had given him, or resume his old rags? + +Now, twenty-four hours before, at the time Dick was introduced to the +reader’s notice, no one could have been less fastidious as to his +clothing than he. Indeed, he had rather a contempt for good clothes, or +at least he thought so. But now, as he surveyed the ragged and dirty +coat and the patched pants, Dick felt ashamed of them. He was unwilling +to appear in the streets with them. Yet, if he went to work in his new +suit, he was in danger of spoiling it, and he might not have it in his +power to purchase a new one. Economy dictated a return to the old +garments. Dick tried them on, and surveyed himself in the cracked +glass; but the reflection did not please him. + +“They don’t look ’spectable,” he decided; and, forthwith taking them +off again, he put on the new suit of the day before. + +“I must try to earn a little more,” he thought, “to pay for my room, +and to buy some new clo’es when these is wore out.” + +He opened the door of his chamber, and went downstairs and into the +street, carrying his blacking-box with him. + +It was Dick’s custom to commence his business before breakfast; +generally it must be owned, because he began the day penniless, and +must earn his meal before he ate it. To-day it was different. He had +four dollars left in his pocket-book; but this he had previously +determined not to touch. In fact he had formed the ambitious design of +starting an account at a savings’ bank, in order to have something to +fall back upon in case of sickness or any other emergency, or at any +rate as a reserve fund to expend in clothing or other necessary +articles when he required them. Hitherto he had been content to live on +from day to day without a penny ahead; but the new vision of +respectability which now floated before Dick’s mind, owing to his +recent acquaintance with Frank, was beginning to exercise a powerful +effect upon him. + +In Dick’s profession as in others there are lucky days, when everything +seems to flow prosperously. As if to encourage him in his new-born +resolution, our hero obtained no less than six jobs in the course of an +hour and a half. This gave him sixty cents, quite abundant to purchase +his breakfast, and a comb besides. His exertions made him hungry, and, +entering a small eating-house he ordered a cup of coffee and a +beefsteak. To this he added a couple of rolls. This was quite a +luxurious breakfast for Dick, and more expensive than he was accustomed +to indulge himself with. To gratify the curiosity of my young readers, +I will put down the items with their cost,— + +Coffee, . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 cts. +Beefsteak, . . . . . . . . . . . 15 +A couple of rolls, . . . . . . . 5 +—25 cts. + + +It will thus be seen that our hero had expended nearly one-half of his +morning’s earnings. Some days he had been compelled to breakfast on +five cents, and then he was forced to content himself with a couple of +apples, or cakes. But a good breakfast is a good preparation for a busy +day, and Dick sallied forth from the restaurant lively and alert, ready +to do a good stroke of business. + +Dick’s change of costume was liable to lead to one result of which he +had not thought. His brother boot-blacks might think he had grown +aristocratic, and was putting on airs,—that, in fact, he was getting +above his business, and desirous to outshine his associates. Dick had +not dreamed of this, because in fact, in spite of his new-born +ambition, he entertained no such feeling. There was nothing of what +boys call “big-feeling” about him. He was a borough democrat, using the +word not politically, but in its proper sense, and was disposed to +fraternize with all whom he styled “good fellows,” without regard to +their position. It may seem a little unnecessary to some of my readers +to make this explanation; but they must remember that pride and +“big-feeling” are confined to no age or class, but may be found in boys +as well as men, and in boot-blacks as well as those of a higher rank. + +The morning being a busy time with the boot-blacks, Dick’s changed +appearance had not as yet attracted much attention. But when business +slackened a little, our hero was destined to be reminded of it. + +Among the down-town boot-blacks was one hailing from the Five Points,—a +stout, red-haired, freckled-faced boy of fourteen, bearing the name of +Micky Maguire. This boy, by his boldness and recklessness, as well as +by his personal strength, which was considerable, had acquired an +ascendancy among his fellow professionals, and had a gang of +subservient followers, whom he led on to acts of ruffianism, not +unfrequently terminating in a month or two at Blackwell’s Island. Micky +himself had served two terms there; but the confinement appeared to +have had very little effect in amending his conduct, except, perhaps, +in making him a little more cautious about an encounter with the +“copps,” as the members of the city police are, for some unknown +reason, styled among the Five-Point boys. + +Now Micky was proud of his strength, and of the position of leader +which it had secured him. Moreover he was democratic in his tastes, and +had a jealous hatred of those who wore good clothes and kept their +faces clean. He called it putting on airs, and resented the implied +superiority. If he had been fifteen years older, and had a trifle more +education, he would have interested himself in politics, and been +prominent at ward meetings, and a terror to respectable voters on +election day. As it was, he contented himself with being the leader of +a gang of young ruffians, over whom he wielded a despotic power. + +Now it is only justice to Dick to say that, so far as wearing good +clothes was concerned, he had never hitherto offended the eyes of Micky +Maguire. Indeed, they generally looked as if they patronized the same +clothing establishment. On this particular morning it chanced that +Micky had not been very fortunate in a business way, and, as a natural +consequence, his temper, never very amiable, was somewhat ruffled by +the fact. He had had a very frugal breakfast,—not because he felt +abstemious, but owing to the low state of his finances. He was walking +along with one of his particular friends, a boy nicknamed Limpy Jim, so +called from a slight peculiarity in his walk, when all at once he +espied our friend Dick in his new suit. + +“My eyes!” he exclaimed, in astonishment; “Jim, just look at Ragged +Dick. He’s come into a fortun’, and turned gentleman. See his new +clothes.” + +“So he has,” said Jim. “Where’d he get ’em, I wonder?” + +“Hooked ’em, p’raps. Let’s go and stir him up a little. We don’t want +no gentlemen on our beat. So he’s puttin’ on airs,—is he? I’ll give him +a lesson.” + +So saying the two boys walked up to our hero, who had not observed +them, his back being turned, and Micky Maguire gave him a smart slap on +the shoulder. + +Dick turned round quickly. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. +A BATTLE AND A VICTORY + + +“What’s that for?” demanded Dick, turning round to see who had struck +him. + +“You’re gettin’ mighty fine!” said Micky Maguire, surveying Dick’s new +clothes with a scornful air. + +There was something in his words and tone, which Dick, who was disposed +to stand up for his dignity, did not at all relish. + +“Well, what’s the odds if I am?” he retorted. “Does it hurt you any?” + +“See him put on airs, Jim,” said Micky, turning to his companion. +“Where’d you get them clo’es?” + +“Never mind where I got ’em. Maybe the Prince of Wales gave ’em to me.” + +“Hear him, now, Jim,” said Micky. “Most likely he stole ’em.” + +“Stealin’ aint in _my_ line.” + +It might have been unconscious the emphasis which Dick placed on the +word “my.” At any rate Micky chose to take offence. + +“Do you mean to say _I_ steal?” he demanded, doubling up his fist, and +advancing towards Dick in a threatening manner. + +“I don’t say anything about it,” answered Dick, by no means alarmed at +this hostile demonstration. “I know you’ve been to the Island twice. +P’r’aps ’twas to make a visit along of the Mayor and Aldermen. Maybe +you was a innocent victim of oppression. I aint a goin’ to say.” + +Micky’s freckled face grew red with wrath, for Dick had only stated the +truth. + +“Do you mean to insult me?” he demanded shaking the fist already +doubled up in Dick’s face. “Maybe you want a lickin’?” + +“I aint partic’larly anxious to get one,” said Dick, coolly. “They +don’t agree with my constitution which is nat’rally delicate. I’d +rather have a good dinner than a lickin’ any time.” + +“You’re afraid,” sneered Micky. “Isn’t he, Jim?” + +“In course he is.” + +“P’r’aps I am,” said Dick, composedly, “but it don’t trouble me much.” + +“Do you want to fight?” demanded Micky, encouraged by Dick’s quietness, +fancying he was afraid to encounter him. + +“No, I don’t,” said Dick. “I aint fond of fightin’. It’s a very poor +amusement, and very bad for the complexion, ’specially for the eyes and +nose, which is apt to turn red, white, and blue.” + +Micky misunderstood Dick, and judged from the tenor of his speech that +he would be an easy victim. As he knew, Dick very seldom was concerned +in any street fight,—not from cowardice, as he imagined, but because he +had too much good sense to do so. Being quarrelsome, like all bullies, +and supposing that he was more than a match for our hero, being about +two inches taller, he could no longer resist an inclination to assault +him, and tried to plant a blow in Dick’s face which would have hurt him +considerably if he had not drawn back just in time. + +Now, though Dick was far from quarrelsome, he was ready to defend +himself on all occasions, and it was too much to expect that he would +stand quiet and allow himself to be beaten. + +He dropped his blacking-box on the instant, and returned Micky’s blow +with such good effect that the young bully staggered back, and would +have fallen, if he had not been propped up by his confederate, Limpy +Jim. + +“Go in, Micky!” shouted the latter, who was rather a coward on his own +account, but liked to see others fight. “Polish him off, that’s a good +feller.” + +Micky was now boiling over with rage and fury, and required no urging. +He was fully determined to make a terrible example of poor Dick. He +threw himself upon him, and strove to bear him to the ground; but Dick, +avoiding a close hug, in which he might possibly have got the worst of +it, by an adroit movement, tripped up his antagonist, and stretched him +on the side walk. + +“Hit him, Jim!” exclaimed Micky, furiously. + +Limpy Jim did not seem inclined to obey orders. There was a quiet +strength and coolness about Dick, which alarmed him. He preferred that +Micky should incur all the risks of battle, and accordingly set himself +to raising his fallen comrade. + +“Come, Micky,” said Dick, quietly, “you’d better give it up. I wouldn’t +have touched you if you hadn’t hit me first. I don’t want to fight. +It’s low business.” + +“You’re afraid of hurtin’ your clo’es,” said Micky, with a sneer. + +“Maybe I am,” said Dick. “I hope I haven’t hurt yours.” + +Micky’s answer to this was another attack, as violent and impetuous as +the first. But his fury was in the way. He struck wildly, not measuring +his blows, and Dick had no difficulty in turning aside, so that his +antagonist’s blow fell upon the empty air, and his momentum was such +that he nearly fell forward headlong. Dick might readily have taken +advantage of his unsteadiness, and knocked him down; but he was not +vindictive, and chose to act on the defensive, except when he could not +avoid it. + +Recovering himself, Micky saw that Dick was a more formidable +antagonist than he had supposed, and was meditating another assault, +better planned, which by its impetuosity might bear our hero to the +ground. But there was an unlooked-for interference. + +“Look out for the ‘copp,’” said Jim, in a low voice. + +Micky turned round and saw a tall policeman heading towards him, and +thought it might be prudent to suspend hostilities. He accordingly +picked up his black-box, and, hitching up his pants, walked off, +attended by Limpy Jim. + +“What’s that chap been doing?” asked the policeman of Dick. + +“He was amoosin’ himself by pitchin’ into me,” replied Dick. + +“What for?” + +“He didn’t like it ’cause I patronized a different tailor from him.” + +“Well, it seems to me you _are_ dressed pretty smart for a boot-black,” +said the policeman. + +“I wish I wasn’t a boot-black,” said Dick. + +“Never mind, my lad. It’s an honest business,” said the policeman, who +was a sensible man and a worthy citizen. “It’s an honest business. +Stick to it till you get something better.” + +“I mean to,” said Dick. “It aint easy to get out of it, as the prisoner +remarked, when he was asked how he liked his residence.” + +“I hope you don’t speak from experience.” + +“No,” said Dick; “I don’t mean to get into prison if I can help it.” + +“Do you see that gentleman over there?” asked the officer, pointing to +a well-dressed man who was walking on the other side of the street. + +“Yes.” + +“Well, he was once a newsboy.” + +“And what is he now?” + +“He keeps a bookstore, and is quite prosperous.” + +Dick looked at the gentleman with interest, wondering if he should look +as respectable when he was a grown man. + +It will be seen that Dick was getting ambitious. Hitherto he had +thought very little of the future, but was content to get along as he +could, dining as well as his means would allow, and spending the +evenings in the pit of the Old Bowery, eating peanuts between the acts +if he was prosperous, and if unlucky supping on dry bread or an apple, +and sleeping in an old box or a wagon. Now, for the first time, he +began to reflect that he could not black boots all his life. In seven +years he would be a man, and, since his meeting with Frank, he felt +that he would like to be a respectable man. He could see and appreciate +the difference between Frank and such a boy as Micky Maguire, and it +was not strange that he preferred the society of the former. + +In the course of the next morning, in pursuance of his new resolutions +for the future, he called at a savings bank, and held out four dollars +in bills besides another dollar in change. There was a high railing, +and a number of clerks busily writing at desks behind it. Dick, never +having been in a bank before, did not know where to go. He went, by +mistake, to the desk where money was paid out. + +“Where’s your book?” asked the clerk. + +“I haven’t got any.” + +“Have you any money deposited here?” + +“No, sir, I want to leave some here.” + +“Then go to the next desk.” + +Dick followed directions, and presented himself before an elderly man +with gray hair, who looked at him over the rims of his spectacles. + +“I want you to keep that for me,” said Dick, awkwardly emptying his +money out on the desk. + +“How much is there?” + +“Five dollars.” + +“Have you got an account here?” + +“No, sir.” + +“Of course you can write?” + +The “of course” was said on account of Dick’s neat dress. + +“Have I got to do any writing?” asked our hero, a little embarrassed. + +“We want you to sign your name in this book,” and the old gentleman +shoved round a large folio volume containing the names of depositors. + +Dick surveyed the book with some awe. + +“I aint much on writin’,” he said. + +“Very well; write as well as you can.” + +The pen was put into Dick’s hand, and, after dipping it in the +inkstand, he succeeded after a hard effort, accompanied by many +contortions of the face, in inscribing upon the book of the bank the +name + +DICK HUNTER. + + +“Dick!—that means Richard, I suppose,” said the bank officer, who had +some difficulty in making out the signature. + +“No; Ragged Dick is what folks call me.” + +“You don’t look very ragged.” + +“No, I’ve left my rags to home. They might get wore out if I used ’em +too common.” + +“Well, my lad, I’ll make out a book in the name of Dick Hunter, since +you seem to prefer Dick to Richard. I hope you will save up your money +and deposit more with us.” + +Our hero took his bank-book, and gazed on the entry “Five Dollars” with +a new sense of importance. He had been accustomed to joke about Erie +shares, but now, for the first time, he felt himself a capitalist; on a +small scale, to be sure, but still it was no small thing for Dick to +have five dollars which he could call his own. He firmly determined +that he would lay by every cent he could spare from his earnings +towards the fund he hoped to accumulate. + +But Dick was too sensible not to know that there was something more +than money needed to win a respectable position in the world. He felt +that he was very ignorant. Of reading and writing he only knew the +rudiments, and that, with a slight acquaintance with arithmetic, was +all he did know of books. Dick knew he must study hard, and he dreaded +it. He looked upon learning as attended with greater difficulties than +it really possesses. But Dick had good pluck. He meant to learn, +nevertheless, and resolved to buy a book with his first spare earnings. + +When Dick went home at night he locked up his bank-book in one of the +drawers of the bureau. It was wonderful how much more independent he +felt whenever he reflected upon the contents of that drawer, and with +what an important air of joint ownership he regarded the bank building +in which his small savings were deposited. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. +DICK SECURES A TUTOR + + +The next morning Dick was unusually successful, having plenty to do, +and receiving for one job twenty-five cents,—the gentleman refusing to +take change. Then flashed upon Dick’s mind the thought that he had not +yet returned the change due to the gentleman whose boots he had blacked +on the morning of his introduction to the reader. + +“What’ll he think of me?” said Dick to himself. “I hope he won’t think +I’m mean enough to keep the money.” + +Now Dick was scrupulously honest, and though the temptation to be +otherwise had often been strong, he had always resisted it. He was not +willing on any account to keep money which did not belong to him, and +he immediately started for 125 Fulton Street (the address which had +been given him) where he found Mr. Greyson’s name on the door of an +office on the first floor. + +The door being open, Dick walked in. + +“Is Mr. Greyson in?” he asked of a clerk who sat on a high stool before +a desk. + +“Not just now. He’ll be in soon. Will you wait?” + +“Yes,” said Dick. + +“Very well; take a seat then.” + +Dick sat down and took up the morning “Tribune,” but presently came to +a word of four syllables, which he pronounced to himself a “sticker,” +and laid it down. But he had not long to wait, for five minutes later +Mr. Greyson entered. + +“Did you wish to speak to me, my lad?” said he to Dick, whom in his new +clothes he did not recognize. + +“Yes, sir,” said Dick. “I owe you some money.” + +“Indeed!” said Mr. Greyson, pleasantly; “that’s an agreeable surprise. +I didn’t know but you had come for some. So you are a debtor of mine, +and not a creditor?” + +“I b’lieve that’s right,” said Dick, drawing fifteen cents from his +pocket, and placing in Mr. Greyson’s hand. + +“Fifteen cents!” repeated he, in some surprise. “How do you happen to +be indebted to me in that amount?” + +“You gave me a quarter for a-shinin’ your boots, yesterday mornin’, and +couldn’t wait for the change. I meant to have brought it before, but I +forgot all about it till this mornin’.” + +“It had quite slipped my mind also. But you don’t look like the boy I +employed. If I remember rightly he wasn’t as well dressed as you.” + +“No,” said Dick. “I was dressed for a party, then, but the clo’es was +too well ventilated to be comfortable in cold weather.” + +“You’re an honest boy,” said Mr. Greyson. “Who taught you to be +honest?” + +“Nobody,” said Dick. “But it’s mean to cheat and steal. I’ve always +knowed that.” + +“Then you’ve got ahead of some of our business men. Do you read the +Bible?” + +“No,” said Dick. “I’ve heard it’s a good book, but I don’t know much +about it.” + +“You ought to go to some Sunday School. Would you be willing?” + +“Yes,” said Dick, promptly. “I want to grow up ’spectable. But I don’t +know where to go.” + +“Then I’ll tell you. The church I attend is at the corner of Fifth +Avenue and Twenty-first Street.” + +“I’ve seen it,” said Dick. + +“I have a class in the Sunday School there. If you’ll come next Sunday, +I’ll take you into my class, and do what I can to help you.” + +“Thank you,” said Dick, “but p’r’aps you’ll get tired of teaching me. +I’m awful ignorant.” + +“No, my lad,” said Mr. Greyson, kindly. “You evidently have some good +principles to start with, as you have shown by your scorn of +dishonesty. I shall hope good things of you in the future.” + +“Well, Dick,” said our hero, apostrophizing himself, as he left the +office; “you’re gettin’ up in the world. You’ve got money invested, and +are goin’ to attend church, by partic’lar invitation, on Fifth Avenue. +I shouldn’t wonder much if you should find cards, when you get home, +from the Mayor, requestin’ the honor of your company to dinner, along +with other distinguished guests.” + +Dick felt in very good spirits. He seemed to be emerging from the world +in which he had hitherto lived, into a new atmosphere of +respectability, and the change seemed very pleasant to him. + +At six o’clock Dick went into a restaurant on Chatham Street, and got a +comfortable supper. He had been so successful during the day that, +after paying for this, he still had ninety cents left. While he was +despatching his supper, another boy came in, smaller and slighter than +Dick, and sat down beside him. Dick recognized him as a boy who three +months before had entered the ranks of the boot-blacks, but who, from a +natural timidity, had not been able to earn much. He was ill-fitted for +the coarse companionship of the street boys, and shrank from the rude +jokes of his present associates. Dick had never troubled him; for our +hero had a certain chivalrous feeling which would not allow him to +bully or disturb a younger and weaker boy than himself. + +“How are you, Fosdick?” said Dick, as the other seated himself. + +“Pretty well,” said Fosdick. “I suppose you’re all right.” + +“Oh, yes, I’m right side up with care. I’ve been havin’ a bully supper. +What are you goin’ to have?” + +“Some bread and butter.” + +“Why don’t you get a cup o’ coffee?” + +“Why,” said Fosdick, reluctantly, “I haven’t got money enough +to-night.” + +“Never mind,” said Dick; “I’m in luck to-day, I’ll stand treat.” + +“That’s kind in you,” said Fosdick, gratefully. + +“Oh, never mind that,” said Dick. + +Accordingly he ordered a cup of coffee, and a plate of beefsteak, and +was gratified to see that his young companion partook of both with +evident relish. When the repast was over, the boys went out into the +street together, Dick pausing at the desk to settle for both suppers. + +“Where are you going to sleep to-night, Fosdick?” asked Dick, as they +stood on the sidewalk. + +“I don’t know,” said Fosdick, a little sadly. “In some doorway, I +expect. But I’m afraid the police will find me out, and make me move +on.” + +“I’ll tell you what,” said Dick, “you must go home with me. I guess my +bed will hold two.” + +“Have you got a room?” asked the other, in surprise. + +“Yes,” said Dick, rather proudly, and with a little excusable +exultation. “I’ve got a room over in Mott Street; there I can receive +my friends. That’ll be better than sleepin’ in a door-way,—won’t it?” + +“Yes, indeed it will,” said Fosdick. “How lucky I was to come across +you! It comes hard to me living as I do. When my father was alive I had +every comfort.” + +“That’s more’n I ever had,” said Dick. “But I’m goin’ to try to live +comfortable now. Is your father dead?” + +“Yes,” said Fosdick, sadly. “He was a printer; but he was drowned one +dark night from a Fulton ferry-boat, and, as I had no relations in the +city, and no money, I was obliged to go to work as quick as I could. +But I don’t get on very well.” + +“Didn’t you have no brothers nor sisters?” asked Dick. + +“No,” said Fosdick; “father and I used to live alone. He was always so +much company to me that I feel very lonesome without him. There’s a man +out West somewhere that owes him two thousand dollars. He used to live +in the city, and father lent him all his money to help him go into +business; but he failed, or pretended to, and went off. If father +hadn’t lost that money he would have left me well off; but no money +would have made up his loss to me.” + +“What’s the man’s name that went off with your father’s money?” + +“His name is Hiram Bates.” + +“P’r’aps you’ll get the money again, sometime.” + +“There isn’t much chance of it,” said Fosdick. “I’d sell out my chances +of that for five dollars.” + +“Maybe I’ll buy you out sometime,” said Dick. “Now, come round and see +what sort of a room I’ve got. I used to go to the theatre evenings, +when I had money; but now I’d rather go to bed early, and have a good +sleep.” + +“I don’t care much about theatres,” said Fosdick. “Father didn’t use to +let me go very often. He said it wasn’t good for boys.” + +“I like to go to the Old Bowery sometimes. They have tip-top plays +there. Can you read and write well?” he asked, as a sudden thought came +to him. + +“Yes,” said Fosdick. “Father always kept me at school when he was +alive, and I stood pretty well in my classes. I was expecting to enter +at the Free Academy* next year.” + +* Now the college of the city of New York. + + +“Then I’ll tell you what,” said Dick; “I’ll make a bargain with you. I +can’t read much more’n a pig; and my writin’ looks like hens’ tracks. I +don’t want to grow up knowin’ no more’n a four-year-old boy. If you’ll +teach me readin’ and writin’ evenin’s, you shall sleep in my room every +night. That’ll be better’n door-steps or old boxes, where I’ve slept +many a time.” + +“Are you in earnest?” said Fosdick, his face lighting up hopefully. + +“In course I am,” said Dick. “It’s fashionable for young gentlemen to +have private tootors to introduct ’em into the flower-beds of +literatoor and science, and why shouldn’t I foller the fashion? You +shall be my perfessor; only you must promise not to be very hard if my +writin’ looks like a rail-fence on a bender.” + +“I’ll try not to be too severe,” said Fosdick, laughing. “I shall be +thankful for such a chance to get a place to sleep. Have you got +anything to read out of?” + +“No,” said Dick. “My extensive and well-selected library was lost +overboard in a storm, when I was sailin’ from the Sandwich Islands to +the desert of Sahara. But I’ll buy a paper. That’ll do me a long time.” + +Accordingly Dick stopped at a paper-stand, and bought a copy of a +weekly paper, filled with the usual variety of reading matter,—stories, +sketches, poems, etc. + +They soon arrived at Dick’s lodging-house. Our hero, procuring a lamp +from the landlady, led the way into his apartment, which he entered +with the proud air of a proprietor. + +“Well, how do you like it, Fosdick?” he asked, complacently. + +The time was when Fosdick would have thought it untidy and not +particularly attractive. But he had served a severe apprenticeship in +the streets, and it was pleasant to feel himself under shelter, and he +was not disposed to be critical. + +“It looks very comfortable, Dick,” he said. + +“The bed aint very large,” said Dick; “but I guess we can get along.” + +“Oh, yes,” said Fosdick, cheerfully. “I don’t take up much room.” + +“Then that’s all right. There’s two chairs, you see, one for you and +one for me. In case the mayor comes in to spend the evenin’ socially, +he can sit on the bed.” + +The boys seated themselves, and five minutes later, under the guidance +of his young tutor, Dick had commenced his studies. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. +THE FIRST LESSON + + +Fortunately for Dick, his young tutor was well qualified to instruct +him. Henry Fosdick, though only twelve years old, knew as much as many +boys of fourteen. He had always been studious and ambitious to excel. +His father, being a printer, employed in an office where books were +printed, often brought home new books in sheets, which Henry was always +glad to read. Mr. Fosdick had been, besides, a subscriber to the +Mechanics’ Apprentices’ Library, which contains many thousands of +well-selected and instructive books. Thus Henry had acquired an amount +of general information, unusual in a boy of his age. Perhaps he had +devoted too much time to study, for he was not naturally robust. All +this, however, fitted him admirably for the office to which Dick had +appointed him,—that of his private instructor. + +The two boys drew up their chairs to the rickety table, and spread out +the paper before them. + +“The exercises generally Commence with ringin’ the bell,” said Dick; +“but as I aint got none, we’ll have to do without.” + +“And the teacher is generally provided with a rod,” said Fosdick. +“Isn’t there a poker handy, that I can use in case my scholar doesn’t +behave well?” + +“’Taint lawful to use fire-arms,” said Dick. + +“Now, Dick,” said Fosdick, “before we begin, I must find out how much +you already know. Can you read any?” + +“Not enough to hurt me,” said Dick. “All I know about readin’ you could +put in a nutshell, and there’d be room left for a small family.” + +“I suppose you know your letters?” + +“Yes,” said Dick, “I know ’em all, but not intimately. I guess I can +call ’em all by name.” + +“Where did you learn them? Did you ever go to school?” + +“Yes; I went two days.” + +“Why did you stop?” + +“It didn’t agree with my constitution.” + +“You don’t look very delicate,” said Fosdick. + +“No,” said Dick, “I aint troubled much that way; but I found lickins +didn’t agree with me.” + +“Did you get punished?” + +“Awful,” said Dick. + +“What for?” + +“For indulgin’ in a little harmless amoosement,” said Dick. “You see +the boy that was sittin’ next to me fell asleep, which I considered +improper in school-time; so I thought I’d help the teacher a little by +wakin’ him up. So I took a pin and stuck into him; but I guess it went +a little too far, for he screeched awful. The teacher found out what it +was that made him holler, and whipped me with a ruler till I was black +and blue. I thought ’twas about time to take a vacation; so that’s the +last time I went to school.” + +“You didn’t learn to read in that time, of course?” + +“No,” said Dick; “but I was a newsboy a little while; so I learned a +little, just so’s to find out what the news was. Sometimes I didn’t +read straight and called the wrong news. One mornin’ I asked another +boy what the paper said, and he told me the King of Africa was dead. I +thought it was all right till folks began to laugh.” + +“Well, Dick, if you’ll only study well, you won’t be liable to make +such mistakes.” + +“I hope so,” said Dick. “My friend Horace Greeley told me the other day +that he’d get me to take his place now and then when he was off makin’ +speeches if my edication hadn’t been neglected.” + +“I must find a good piece for you to begin on,” said Fosdick, looking +over the paper. + +“Find an easy one,” said Dick, “with words of one story.” + +Fosdick at length found a piece which he thought would answer. He +discovered on trial that Dick had not exaggerated his deficiencies. +Words of two syllables he seldom pronounced right, and was much +surprised when he was told how “through” was sounded. + +“Seems to me it’s throwin’ away letters to use all them,” he said. + +“How would you spell it?” asked his young teacher. + +“T-h-r-u,” said Dick. + +“Well,” said Fosdick, “there’s a good many other words that are spelt +with more letters than they need to have. But it’s the fashion, and we +must follow it.” + +But if Dick was ignorant, he was quick, and had an excellent capacity. +Moreover he had perseverance, and was not easily discouraged. He had +made up his mind he must know more, and was not disposed to complain of +the difficulty of his task. Fosdick had occasion to laugh more than +once at his ludicrous mistakes; but Dick laughed too, and on the whole +both were quite interested in the lesson. + +At the end of an hour and a half the boys stopped for the evening. + +“You’re learning fast, Dick,” said Fosdick. “At this rate you will soon +learn to read well.” + +“Will I?” asked Dick with an expression of satisfaction. “I’m glad of +that. I don’t want to be ignorant. I didn’t use to care, but I do now. +I want to grow up ’spectable.” + +“So do I, Dick. We will both help each other, and I am sure we can +accomplish something. But I am beginning to feel sleepy.” + +“So am I,” said Dick. “Them hard words make my head ache. I wonder who +made ’em all?” + +“That’s more than I can tell. I suppose you’ve seen a dictionary.” + +“That’s another of ’em. No, I can’t say I have, though I may have seen +him in the street without knowin’ him.” + +“A dictionary is a book containing all the words in the language.” + +“How many are there?” + +“I don’t rightly know; but I think there are about fifty thousand.” + +“It’s a pretty large family,” said Dick. “Have I got to learn ’em all?” + +“That will not be necessary. There are a large number which you would +never find occasion to use.” + +“I’m glad of that,” said Dick; “for I don’t expect to live to be more’n +a hundred, and by that time I wouldn’t be more’n half through.” + +By this time the flickering lamp gave a decided hint to the boys that +unless they made haste they would have to undress in the dark. They +accordingly drew off their clothes, and Dick jumped into bed. But +Fosdick, before doing so, knelt down by the side of the bed, and said a +short prayer. + +“What’s that for?” asked Dick, curiously. + +“I was saying my prayers,” said Fosdick, as he rose from his knees. +“Don’t you ever do it?” + +“No,” said Dick. “Nobody ever taught me.” + +“Then I’ll teach you. Shall I?” + +“I don’t know,” said Dick, dubiously. “What’s the good?” + +Fosdick explained as well as he could, and perhaps his simple +explanation was better adapted to Dick’s comprehension than one from an +older person would have been. Dick felt more free to ask questions, and +the example of his new friend, for whom he was beginning to feel a warm +attachment, had considerable effect upon him. When, therefore, Fosdick +asked again if he should teach him a prayer, Dick consented, and his +young bedfellow did so. Dick was not naturally irreligious. If he had +lived without a knowledge of God and of religious things, it was +scarcely to be wondered at in a lad who, from an early age, had been +thrown upon his own exertions for the means of living, with no one to +care for him or give him good advice. But he was so far good that he +could appreciate goodness in others, and this it was that had drawn him +to Frank in the first place, and now to Henry Fosdick. He did not, +therefore, attempt to ridicule his companion, as some boys better +brought up might have done, but was willing to follow his example in +what something told him was right. Our young hero had taken an +important step toward securing that genuine respectability which he was +ambitious to attain. + +Weary with the day’s work, and Dick perhaps still more fatigued by the +unusual mental effort he had made, the boys soon sank into a deep and +peaceful slumber, from which they did not awaken till six o’clock the +next morning. Before going out Dick sought Mrs. Mooney, and spoke to +her on the subject of taking Fosdick as a room-mate. He found that she +had no objection, provided he would allow her twenty-five cents a week +extra, in consideration of the extra trouble which his companion might +be expected to make. To this Dick assented, and the arrangement was +definitely concluded. + +This over, the two boys went out and took stations near each other. +Dick had more of a business turn than Henry, and less shrinking from +publicity, so that his earnings were greater. But he had undertaken to +pay the entire expenses of the room, and needed to earn more. +Sometimes, when two customers presented themselves at the same time, he +was able to direct one to his friend. So at the end of the week both +boys found themselves with surplus earnings. Dick had the satisfaction +of adding two dollars and a half to his deposits in the Savings Bank, +and Fosdick commenced an account by depositing seventy-five cents. + +On Sunday morning Dick bethought himself of his promise to Mr. Greyson +to come to the church on Fifth Avenue. To tell the truth, Dick recalled +it with some regret. He had never been inside a church since he could +remember, and he was not much attracted by the invitation he had +received. But Henry, finding him wavering, urged him to go, and offered +to go with him. Dick gladly accepted the offer, feeling that he +required someone to lend him countenance under such unusual +circumstances. + +Dick dressed himself with scrupulous care, giving his shoes a “shine” +so brilliant that it did him great credit in a professional point of +view, and endeavored to clean his hands thoroughly; but, in spite of +all he could do, they were not so white as if his business had been of +a different character. + +Having fully completed his preparations, he descended into the street, +and, with Henry by his side, crossed over to Broadway. + +The boys pursued their way up Broadway, which on Sunday presents a +striking contrast in its quietness to the noise and confusion of +ordinary week-days, as far as Union Square, then turned down Fourteenth +Street, which brought them to Fifth Avenue. + +“Suppose we dine at Delmonico’s,” said Fosdick, looking towards that +famous restaurant. + +“I’d have to sell some of my Erie shares,” said Dick. + +A short walk now brought them to the church of which mention has +already been made. They stood outside, a little abashed, watching the +fashionably attired people who were entering, and were feeling a little +undecided as to whether they had better enter also, when Dick felt a +light touch upon his shoulder. + +Turning round, he met the smiling glance of Mr. Greyson. + +“So, my young friend, you have kept your promise,” he said. “And whom +have you brought with you?” + +“A friend of mine,” said Dick. “His name is Henry Fosdick.” + +“I am glad you have brought him. Now follow me, and I will give you +seats.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. +DICK’S FIRST APPEARANCE IN SOCIETY + + +It was the hour for morning service. The boys followed Mr. Greyson into +the handsome church, and were assigned seats in his own pew. + +There were two persons already seated in it,—a good-looking lady of +middle age, and a pretty little girl of nine. They were Mrs. Greyson +and her only daughter Ida. They looked pleasantly at the boys as they +entered, smiling a welcome to them. + +The morning service commenced. It must be acknowledged that Dick felt +rather awkward. It was an unusual place for him, and it need not be +wondered at that he felt like a cat in a strange garret. He would not +have known when to rise if he had not taken notice of what the rest of +the audience did, and followed their example. He was sitting next to +Ida, and as it was the first time he had ever been near so well-dressed +a young lady, he naturally felt bashful. When the hymns were announced, +Ida found the place, and offered a hymn-book to our hero. Dick took it +awkwardly, but his studies had not yet been pursued far enough for him +to read the words readily. However, he resolved to keep up appearances, +and kept his eyes fixed steadily on the hymn-book. + +At length the service was over. The people began to file slowly out of +church, and among them, of course, Mr. Greyson’s family and the two +boys. It seemed very strange to Dick to find himself in such different +companionship from what he had been accustomed, and he could not help +thinking, “Wonder what Johnny Nolan ’ould say if he could see me now!” + +But Johnny’s business engagements did not often summon him to Fifth +Avenue, and Dick was not likely to be seen by any of his friends in the +lower part of the city. + +“We have our Sunday school in the afternoon,” said Mr. Greyson. “I +suppose you live at some distance from here?” + +“In Mott Street, sir,” answered Dick. + +“That is too far to go and return. Suppose you and your friend come and +dine with us, and then we can come here together in the afternoon.” + +Dick was as much astonished at this invitation as if he had really been +invited by the Mayor to dine with him and the Board of Aldermen. Mr. +Greyson was evidently a rich man, and yet he had actually invited two +boot-blacks to dine with him. + +“I guess we’d better go home, sir,” said Dick, hesitating. + +“I don’t think you can have any very pressing engagements to interfere +with your accepting my invitation,” said Mr. Greyson, good-humoredly, +for he understood the reason of Dick’s hesitation. “So I take it for +granted that you both accept.” + +Before Dick fairly knew what he intended to do, he was walking down +Fifth Avenue with his new friends. + +Now, our young hero was not naturally bashful; but he certainly felt so +now, especially as Miss Ida Greyson chose to walk by his side, leaving +Henry Fosdick to walk with her father and mother. + +“What is your name?” asked Ida, pleasantly. + +Our hero was about to answer “Ragged Dick,” when it occurred to him +that in the present company he had better forget his old nickname. + +“Dick Hunter,” he answered. + +“Dick!” repeated Ida. “That means Richard, doesn’t it?” + +“Everybody calls me Dick.” + +“I have a cousin Dick,” said the young lady, sociably. “His name is +Dick Wilson. I suppose you don’t know him?” + +“No,” said Dick. + +“I like the name of Dick,” said the young lady, with charming +frankness. + +Without being able to tell why, Dick felt rather glad she did. He +plucked up courage to ask her name. + +“My name is Ida,” answered the young lady. “Do you like it?” + +“Yes,” said Dick. “It’s a bully name.” + +Dick turned red as soon as he had said it, for he felt that he had not +used the right expression. + +The little girl broke into a silvery laugh. + +“What a funny boy you are!” she said. + +“I didn’t mean it,” said Dick, stammering. “I meant it’s a tip-top +name.” + +Here Ida laughed again, and Dick wished himself back in Mott Street. + +“How old are you?” inquired Ida, continuing her examination. + +“I’m fourteen,—goin’ on fifteen,” said Dick. + +“You’re a big boy of your age,” said Ida. “My cousin Dick is a year +older than you, but he isn’t as large.” + +Dick looked pleased. Boys generally like to be told that they are large +of their age. + +“How old be you?” asked Dick, beginning to feel more at his ease. + +“I’m nine years old,” said Ida. “I go to Miss Jarvis’s school. I’ve +just begun to learn French. Do you know French?” + +“Not enough to hurt me,” said Dick. + +Ida laughed again, and told him that he was a droll boy. + +“Do you like it?” asked Dick. + +“I like it pretty well, except the verbs. I can’t remember them well. +Do you go to school?” + +“I’m studying with a private tutor,” said Dick. + +“Are you? So is my cousin Dick. He’s going to college this year. Are +you going to college?” + +“Not this year.” + +“Because, if you did, you know you’d be in the same class with my +cousin. It would be funny to have two Dicks in one class.” + +They turned down Twenty-fourth Street, passing the Fifth Avenue Hotel +on the left, and stopped before an elegant house with a brown stone +front. The bell was rung, and the door being opened, the boys, somewhat +abashed, followed Mr. Greyson into a handsome hall. They were told +where to hang their hats, and a moment afterwards were ushered into a +comfortable dining-room, where a table was spread for dinner. + +Dick took his seat on the edge of a sofa, and was tempted to rub his +eyes to make sure that he was really awake. He could hardly believe +that he was a guest in so fine a mansion. + +Ida helped to put the boys at their ease. + +“Do you like pictures?” she asked. + +“Very much,” answered Henry. + +The little girl brought a book of handsome engravings, and, seating +herself beside Dick, to whom she seemed to have taken a decided fancy, +commenced showing them to him. + +“There are the Pyramids of Egypt,” she said, pointing to one engraving. + +“What are they for?” asked Dick, puzzled. “I don’t see any winders.” + +“No,” said Ida, “I don’t believe anybody lives there. Do they, papa?” + +“No, my dear. They were used for the burial of the dead. The largest of +them is said to be the loftiest building in the world with one +exception. The spire of the Cathedral of Strasburg is twenty-four feet +higher, if I remember rightly.” + +“Is Egypt near here?” asked Dick. + +“Oh, no, it’s ever so many miles off; about four or five hundred. +Didn’t you know?” + +“No,” said Dick. “I never heard.” + +“You don’t appear to be very accurate in your information, Ida,” said +her mother. “Four or five thousand miles would be considerably nearer +the truth.” + +After a little more conversation they sat down to dinner. Dick seated +himself in an embarrassed way. He was very much afraid of doing or +saying something which would be considered an impropriety, and had the +uncomfortable feeling that everybody was looking at him, and watching +his behavior. + +“Where do you live, Dick?” asked Ida, familiarly. + +“In Mott Street.” + +“Where is that?” + +“More than a mile off.” + +“Is it a nice street?” + +“Not very,” said Dick. “Only poor folks live there.” + +“Are you poor?” + +“Little girls should be seen and not heard,” said her mother, gently. + +“If you are,” said Ida, “I’ll give you the five-dollar gold-piece aunt +gave me for a birthday present.” + +“Dick cannot be called poor, my child,” said Mrs. Greyson, “since he +earns his living by his own exertions.” + +“Do you earn your living?” asked Ida, who was a very inquisitive young +lady, and not easily silenced. “What do you do?” + +Dick blushed violently. At such a table, and in presence of the servant +who was standing at that moment behind his chair, he did not like to +say that he was a shoe-black, although he well knew that there was +nothing dishonorable in the occupation. + +Mr. Greyson perceived his feelings, and to spare them, said, “You are +too inquisitive, Ida. Sometime Dick may tell you, but you know we don’t +talk of business on Sundays.” + +Dick in his embarrassment had swallowed a large spoonful of hot soup, +which made him turn red in the face. For the second time, in spite of +the prospect of the best dinner he had ever eaten, he wished himself +back in Mott Street. Henry Fosdick was more easy and unembarrassed than +Dick, not having led such a vagabond and neglected life. But it was to +Dick that Ida chiefly directed her conversation, having apparently +taken a fancy to his frank and handsome face. I believe I have already +said that Dick was a very good-looking boy, especially now since he +kept his face clean. He had a frank, honest expression, which generally +won its way to the favor of those with whom he came in contact. + +Dick got along pretty well at the table by dint of noticing how the +rest acted, but there was one thing he could not manage, eating with +his fork, which, by the way, he thought a very singular arrangement. + +At length they arose from the table, somewhat to Dick’s relief. Again +Ida devoted herself to the boys, and exhibited a profusely illustrated +Bible for their entertainment. Dick was interested in looking at the +pictures, though he knew very little of their subjects. Henry Fosdick +was much better informed, as might have been expected. + +When the boys were about to leave the house with Mr. Greyson for the +Sunday school, Ida placed her hand in Dick’s, and said persuasively, +“You’ll come again, Dick, won’t you?” + +“Thank you,” said Dick, “I’d like to,” and he could not help thinking +Ida the nicest girl he had ever seen. + +“Yes,” said Mrs. Greyson, hospitably, “we shall be glad to see you both +here again.” + +“Thank you very much,” said Henry Fosdick, gratefully. “We shall like +very much to come.” + +I will not dwell upon the hour spent in Sunday school, nor upon the +remarks of Mr. Greyson to his class. He found Dick’s ignorance of +religious subjects so great that he was obliged to begin at the +beginning with him. Dick was interested in hearing the children sing, +and readily promised to come again the next Sunday. + +When the service was over Dick and Henry walked homewards. Dick could +not help letting his thoughts rest on the sweet little girl who had +given him so cordial a welcome, and hoping that he might meet her +again. + +“Mr. Greyson is a nice man,—isn’t he, Dick?” asked Henry, as they were +turning into Mott Street, and were already in sight of their +lodging-house. + +“Aint he, though?” said Dick. “He treated us just as if we were young +gentlemen.” + +“Ida seemed to take a great fancy to you.” + +“She’s a tip-top girl,” said Dick, “but she asked so many questions +that I didn’t know what to say.” + +He had scarcely finished speaking, when a stone whizzed by his head, +and, turning quickly, he saw Micky Maguire running round the corner of +the street which they had just passed. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. +MICKY MAGUIRE’S SECOND DEFEAT + + +Dick was no coward. Nor was he in the habit of submitting passively to +an insult. When, therefore, he recognized Micky as his assailant, he +instantly turned and gave chase. Micky anticipated pursuit, and ran at +his utmost speed. It is doubtful if Dick would have overtaken him, but +Micky had the ill luck to trip just as he had entered a narrow alley, +and, falling with some violence, received a sharp blow from the hard +stones, which made him scream with pain. + +“Ow!” he whined. “Don’t you hit a feller when he’s down.” + +“What made you fire that stone at me?” demanded our hero, looking down +at the fallen bully. + +“Just for fun,” said Micky. + +“It would have been a very agreeable s’prise if it had hit me,” said +Dick. “S’posin’ I fire a rock at you jest for fun.” + +“Don’t!” exclaimed Micky, in alarm. + +“It seems you don’t like agreeable s’prises,” said Dick, “any more’n +the man did what got hooked by a cow one mornin’, before breakfast. It +didn’t improve his appetite much.” + +“I’ve most broke my arm,” said Micky, ruefully, rubbing the affected +limb. + +“If it’s broke you can’t fire no more stones, which is a very cheerin’ +reflection,” said Dick. “Ef you haven’t money enough to buy a wooden +one I’ll lend you a quarter. There’s one good thing about wooden ones, +they aint liable to get cold in winter, which is another cheerin’ +reflection.” + +“I don’t want none of yer cheerin’ reflections,” said Micky, sullenly. +“Yer company aint wanted here.” + +“Thank you for your polite invitation to leave,” said Dick, bowing +ceremoniously. “I’m willin’ to go, but ef you throw any more stones at +me, Micky Maguire, I’ll hurt you worse than the stones did.” + +The only answer made to this warning was a scowl from his fallen +opponent. It was quite evident that Dick had the best of it, and he +thought it prudent to say nothing. + +“As I’ve got a friend waitin’ outside, I shall have to tear myself +away,” said Dick. “You’d better not throw any more stones, Micky +Maguire, for it don’t seem to agree with your constitution.” + +Micky muttered something which Dick did not stay to hear. He backed out +of the alley, keeping a watchful eye on his fallen foe, and rejoined +Henry Fosdick, who was awaiting his return. + +“Who was it, Dick?” he asked. + +“A partic’lar friend of mine, Micky Maguire,” said Dick. “He playfully +fired a rock at my head as a mark of his ’fection. He loves me like a +brother, Micky does.” + +“Rather a dangerous kind of a friend, I should think,” said Fosdick. +“He might have killed you.” + +“I’ve warned him not to be so ’fectionate another time,” said Dick. + +“I know him,” said Henry Fosdick. “He’s at the head of a gang of boys +living at the Five-Points. He threatened to whip me once because a +gentleman employed me to black his boots instead of him.” + +“He’s been at the Island two or three times for stealing,” said Dick. +“I guess he won’t touch me again. He’d rather get hold of small boys. +If he ever does anything to you, Fosdick, just let me know, and I’ll +give him a thrashing.” + +Dick was right. Micky Maguire was a bully, and like most bullies did +not fancy tackling boys whose strength was equal or superior to his +own. Although he hated Dick more than ever, because he thought our hero +was putting on airs, he had too lively a remembrance of his strength +and courage to venture upon another open attack. He contented himself, +therefore, whenever he met Dick, with scowling at him. Dick took this +very philosophically, remarking that, “if it was soothin’ to Micky’s +feelings, he might go ahead, as it didn’t hurt him much.” + +It will not be necessary to chronicle the events of the next few weeks. +A new life had commenced for Dick. He no longer haunted the gallery of +the Old Bowery; and even Tony Pastor’s hospitable doors had lost their +old attractions. He spent two hours every evening in study. His +progress was astonishingly rapid. He was gifted with a natural +quickness; and he was stimulated by the desire to acquire a fair +education as a means of “growin’ up ’spectable,” as he termed it. Much +was due also to the patience and perseverance of Henry Fosdick, who +made a capital teacher. + +“You’re improving wonderfully, Dick,” said his friend, one evening, +when Dick had read an entire paragraph without a mistake. + +“Am I?” said Dick, with satisfaction. + +“Yes. If you’ll buy a writing-book to-morrow, we can begin writing +to-morrow evening.” + +“What else do you know, Henry?” asked Dick. + +“Arithmetic, and geography, and grammar.” + +“What a lot you know!” said Dick, admiringly. + +“I don’t _know_ any of them,” said Fosdick. “I’ve only studied them. I +wish I knew a great deal more.” + +“I’ll be satisfied when I know as much as you,” said Dick. + +“It seems a great deal to you now, Dick, but in a few months you’ll +think differently. The more you know, the more you’ll want to know.” + +“Then there aint any end to learnin’?” said Dick. + +“No.” + +“Well,” said Dick, “I guess I’ll be as much as sixty before I know +everything.” + +“Yes; as old as that, probably,” said Fosdick, laughing. + +“Anyway, you know too much to be blackin’ boots. Leave that to ignorant +chaps like me.” + +“You won’t be ignorant long, Dick.” + +“You’d ought to get into some office or countin’-room.” + +“I wish I could,” said Fosdick, earnestly. “I don’t succeed very well +at blacking boots. You make a great deal more than I do.” + +“That’s cause I aint troubled with bashfulness,” said Dick. +“Bashfulness aint as natural to me as it is to you. I’m always on hand, +as the cat said to the milk. You’d better give up shines, Fosdick, and +give your ’tention to mercantile pursuits.” + +“I’ve thought of trying to get a place,” said Fosdick; “but no one +would take me with these clothes;” and he directed his glance to his +well-worn suit, which he kept as neat as he could, but which, in spite +of all his care, began to show decided marks of use. There was also +here and there a stain of blacking upon it, which, though an +advertisement of his profession, scarcely added to its good appearance. + +“I almost wanted to stay at home from Sunday school last Sunday,” he +continued, “because I thought everybody would notice how dirty and worn +my clothes had got to be.” + +“If my clothes wasn’t two sizes too big for you,” said Dick, +generously, “I’d change. You’d look as if you’d got into your +great-uncle’s suit by mistake.” + +“You’re very kind, Dick, to think of changing,” said Fosdick, “for your +suit is much better than mine; but I don’t think that mine would suit +you very well. The pants would show a little more of your ankles than +is the fashion, and you couldn’t eat a very hearty dinner without +bursting the buttons off the vest.” + +“That wouldn’t be very convenient,” said Dick. “I aint fond of lacin’ +to show my elegant figger. But I say,” he added with a sudden thought, +“how much money have we got in the savings’ bank?” + +Fosdick took a key from his pocket, and went to the drawer in which the +bank-books were kept, and, opening it, brought them out for inspection. + +It was found that Dick had the sum of eighteen dollars and ninety cents +placed to his credit, while Fosdick had six dollars and forty-five +cents. To explain the large difference, it must be remembered that Dick +had deposited five dollars before Henry deposited anything, being the +amount he had received as a gift from Mr. Whitney. + +“How much does that make, the lot of it?” asked Dick. “I aint much on +figgers yet, you know.” + +“It makes twenty-five dollars and thirty-five cents, Dick,” said his +companion, who did not understand the thought which suggested the +question. + +“Take it, and buy some clothes, Henry,” said Dick, shortly. + +“What, your money too?” + +“In course.” + +“No, Dick, you are too generous. I couldn’t think of it. Almost +three-quarters of the money is yours. You must spend it on yourself.” + +“I don’t need it,” said Dick. + +“You may not need it now, but you will some time.” + +“I shall have some more then.” + +“That may be; but it wouldn’t be fair for me to use your money, Dick. I +thank you all the same for your kindness.” + +“Well, I’ll lend it to you, then,” persisted Dick, “and you can pay me +when you get to be a rich merchant.” + +“But it isn’t likely I ever shall be one.” + +“How d’you know? I went to a fortun’ teller once, and she told me I was +born under a lucky star with a hard name, and I should have a rich man +for my particular friend, who would make my fortun’. I guess you are +going to be the rich man.” + +Fosdick laughed, and steadily refused for some time to avail himself of +Dick’s generous proposal; but at length, perceiving that our hero +seemed much disappointed, and would be really glad if his offer were +accepted, he agreed to use as much as might be needful. + +This at once brought back Dick’s good-humor, and he entered with great +enthusiasm into his friend’s plans. + +The next day they withdrew the money from the bank, and, when business +got a little slack, in the afternoon set out in search of a clothing +store. Dick knew enough of the city to be able to find a place where a +good bargain could be obtained. He was determined that Fosdick should +have a good serviceable suit, even if it took all the money they had. +The result of their search was that for twenty-three dollars Fosdick +obtained a very neat outfit, including a couple of shirts, a hat, and a +pair of shoes, besides a dark mixed suit, which appeared stout and of +good quality. + +“Shall I send the bundle home?” asked the salesman, impressed by the +off-hand manner in which Dick drew out the money in payment for the +clothes. + +“Thank you,” said Dick, “you’re very kind, but I’ll take it home +myself, and you can allow me something for my trouble.” + +“All right,” said the clerk, laughing; “I’ll allow it on your next +purchase.” + +Proceeding to their apartment in Mott Street, Fosdick at once tried on +his new suit, and it was found to be an excellent fit. Dick surveyed +his new friend with much satisfaction. + +“You look like a young gentleman of fortun’,” he said, “and do credit +to your governor.” + +“I suppose that means you, Dick,” said Fosdick, laughing. + +“In course it does.” + +“You should say _of_ course,” said Fosdick, who, in virtue of his +position as Dick’s tutor, ventured to correct his language from time to +time. + +“How dare you correct your gov’nor?” said Dick, with comic indignation. +“‘I’ll cut you off with a shillin’, you young dog,’ as the Markis says +to his nephew in the play at the Old Bowery.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. +FOSDICK CHANGES HIS BUSINESS + + +Fosdick did not venture to wear his new clothes while engaged in his +business. This he felt would have been wasteful extravagance. About ten +o’clock in the morning, when business slackened, he went home, and +dressing himself went to a hotel where he could see copies of the +“Morning Herald” and “Sun,” and, noting down the places where a boy was +wanted, went on a round of applications. But he found it no easy thing +to obtain a place. Swarms of boys seemed to be out of employment, and +it was not unusual to find from fifty to a hundred applicants for a +single place. + +There was another difficulty. It was generally desired that the boy +wanted should reside with his parents. When Fosdick, on being +questioned, revealed the fact of his having no parents, and being a boy +of the street, this was generally sufficient of itself to insure a +refusal. Merchants were afraid to trust one who had led such a vagabond +life. Dick, who was always ready for an emergency, suggested borrowing +a white wig, and passing himself off for Fosdick’s father or +grandfather. But Henry thought this might be rather a difficult +character for our hero to sustain. After fifty applications and as many +failures, Fosdick began to get discouraged. There seemed to be no way +out of his present business, for which he felt unfitted. + +“I don’t know but I shall have to black boots all my life,” he said, +one day, despondently, to Dick. + +“Keep a stiff upper lip,” said Dick. “By the time you get to be a +gray-headed veteran, you may get a chance to run errands for some big +firm on the Bowery, which is a very cheerin’ reflection.” + +So Dick by his drollery and perpetual good spirits kept up Fosdick’s +courage. + +“As for me,” said Dick, “I expect by that time to lay up a colossal +fortun’ out of shines, and live in princely style on the Avenoo.” + +But one morning, Fosdick, straying into French’s Hotel, discovered the +following advertisement in the columns of “The Herald,”— + +“WANTED—A smart, capable boy to run errands, and make himself generally +useful in a hat and cap store. Salary three dollars a week at first. +Inquire at No. — Broadway, after ten o’clock, A.M.” + +He determined to make application, and, as the City Hall clock just +then struck the hour indicated, lost no time in proceeding to the +store, which was only a few blocks distant from the Astor House. It was +easy to find the store, as from a dozen to twenty boys were already +assembled in front of it. They surveyed each other askance, feeling +that they were rivals, and mentally calculating each other’s chances. + +“There isn’t much chance for me,” said Fosdick to Dick, who had +accompanied him. “Look at all these boys. Most of them have good homes, +I suppose, and good recommendations, while I have nobody to refer to.” + +“Go ahead,” said Dick. “Your chance is as good as anybody’s.” + +While this was passing between Dick and his companion, one of the boys, +a rather supercilious-looking young gentleman, genteelly dressed, and +evidently having a very high opinion of his dress and himself turned +suddenly to Dick, and remarked,— + +“I’ve seen you before.” + +“Oh, have you?” said Dick, whirling round; “then p’r’aps you’d like to +see me behind.” + +At this unexpected answer all the boys burst into a laugh with the +exception of the questioner, who, evidently, considered that Dick had +been disrespectful. + +“I’ve seen you somewhere,” he said, in a surly tone, correcting +himself. + +“Most likely you have,” said Dick. “That’s where I generally keep +myself.” + +There was another laugh at the expense of Roswell Crawford, for that +was the name of the young aristocrat. But he had his revenge ready. No +boy relishes being an object of ridicule, and it was with a feeling of +satisfaction that he retorted,— + +“I know you for all your impudence. You’re nothing but a boot-black.” + +This information took the boys who were standing around by surprise, +for Dick was well-dressed, and had none of the implements of his +profession with him. + +“S’pose I be,” said Dick. “Have you got any objection?” + +“Not at all,” said Roswell, curling his lip; “only you’d better stick +to blacking boots, and not try to get into a store.” + +“Thank you for your kind advice,” said Dick. “Is it gratooitous, or do +you expect to be paid for it?” + +“You’re an impudent fellow.” + +“That’s a very cheerin’ reflection,” said Dick, good-naturedly. + +“Do you expect to get this place when there’s gentlemen’s sons applying +for it? A boot-black in a store! That would be a good joke.” + +Boys as well as men are selfish, and, looking upon Dick as a possible +rival, the boys who listened seemed disposed to take the same view of +the situation. + +“That’s what I say,” said one of them, taking sides with Roswell. + +“Don’t trouble yourselves,” said Dick. “I aint agoin’ to cut you out. I +can’t afford to give up a independent and loocrative purfession for a +salary of three dollars a week.” + +“Hear him talk!” said Roswell Crawford, with an unpleasant sneer. “If +you are not trying to get the place, what are you here for?” + +“I came with a friend of mine,” said Dick, indicating Fosdick, “who’s +goin’ in for the situation.” + +“Is he a boot-black, too?” demanded Roswell, superciliously. + +“He!” retorted Dick, loftily. “Didn’t you know his father was a member +of Congress, and intimately acquainted with all the biggest men in the +State?” + +The boys surveyed Fosdick as if they did not quite know whether to +credit this statement, which, for the credit of Dick’s veracity, it +will be observed he did not assert, but only propounded in the form of +a question. There was no time for comment, however, as just then the +proprietor of the store came to the door, and, casting his eyes over +the waiting group, singled out Roswell Crawford, and asked him to +enter. + +“Well, my lad, how old are you?” + +“Fourteen years old,” said Roswell, consequentially. + +“Are your parents living?” + +“Only my mother. My father is dead. He was a gentleman,” he added, +complacently. + +“Oh, was he?” said the shop-keeper. “Do you live in the city?” + +“Yes, sir. In Clinton Place.” + +“Have you ever been in a situation before?” + +“Yes, sir,” said Roswell, a little reluctantly. + +“Where was it?” + +“In an office on Dey Street.” + +“How long were you there?” + +“A week.” + +“It seems to me that was a short time. Why did you not stay longer?” + +“Because,” said Roswell, loftily, “the man wanted me to get to the +office at eight o’clock, and make the fire. I’m a gentleman’s son, and +am not used to such dirty work.” + +“Indeed!” said the shop-keeper. “Well, young gentleman, you may step +aside a few minutes. I will speak with some of the other boys before +making my selection.” + +Several other boys were called in and questioned. Roswell stood by and +listened with an air of complacency. He could not help thinking his +chances the best. “The man can see I’m a gentleman, and will do credit +to his store,” he thought. + +At length it came to Fosdick’s turn. He entered with no very sanguine +anticipations of success. Unlike Roswell, he set a very low estimate +upon his qualifications when compared with those of other applicants. +But his modest bearing, and quiet, gentlemanly manner, entirely free +from pretension, prepossessed the shop-keeper, who was a sensible man, +in his favor. + +“Do you reside in the city?” he asked. + +“Yes, sir,” said Henry. + +“What is your age?” + +“Twelve.” + +“Have you ever been in any situation?” + +“No, sir.” + +“I should like to see a specimen of your handwriting. Here, take the +pen and write your name.” + +Henry Fosdick had a very handsome handwriting for a boy of his age, +while Roswell, who had submitted to the same test, could do little more +than scrawl. + +“Do you reside with your parents?” + +“No, sir, they are dead.” + +“Where do you live, then?” + +“In Mott Street.” + +Roswell curled his lip when this name was pronounced, for Mott Street, +as my New York readers know, is in the immediate neighborhood of the +Five-Points, and very far from a fashionable locality. + +“Have you any testimonials to present?” asked Mr. Henderson, for that +was his name. + +Fosdick hesitated. This was the question which he had foreseen would +give him trouble. + +But at this moment it happened most opportunely that Mr. Greyson +entered the shop with the intention of buying a hat. + +“Yes,” said Fosdick, promptly; “I will refer to this gentleman.” + +“How do you do, Fosdick?” asked Mr. Greyson, noticing him for the first +time. “How do you happen to be here?” + +“I am applying for a place, sir,” said Fosdick. “May I refer the +gentleman to you?” + +“Certainly, I shall be glad to speak a good word for you. Mr. +Henderson, this is a member of my Sunday-school class, of whose good +qualities and good abilities I can speak confidently.” + +“That will be sufficient,” said the shop-keeper, who knew Mr. Greyson’s +high character and position. “He could have no better recommendation. +You may come to the store to-morrow morning at half past seven o’clock. +The pay will be three dollars a week for the first six months. If I am +satisfied with you, I shall then raise it to five dollars.” + +The other boys looked disappointed, but none more so than Roswell +Crawford. He would have cared less if any one else had obtained the +situation; but for a boy who lived in Mott Street to be preferred to +him, a gentleman’s son, he considered indeed humiliating. In a spirit +of petty spite, he was tempted to say, + +“He’s a boot-black. Ask him if he isn’t.” + +“He’s an honest and intelligent lad,” said Mr. Greyson. “As for you, +young man, I only hope you have one-half his good qualities.” + +Roswell Crawford left the store in disgust, and the other unsuccessful +applicants with him. + +“What luck, Fosdick?” asked Dick, eagerly, as his friend came out of +the store. + +“I’ve got the place,” said Fosdick, in accents of satisfaction; “but it +was only because Mr. Greyson spoke up for me.” + +“He’s a trump,” said Dick, enthusiastically. + +The gentleman, so denominated, came out before the boys went away, and +spoke with them kindly. + +Both Dick and Henry were highly pleased at the success of the +application. The pay would indeed be small, but, expended economically, +Fosdick thought he could get along on it, receiving his room rent, as +before, in return for his services as Dick’s private tutor. Dick +determined, as soon as his education would permit, to follow his +companion’s example. + +“I don’t know as you’ll be willin’ to room with a boot-black,” he said, +to Henry, “now you’re goin’ into business.” + +“I couldn’t room with a better friend, Dick,” said Fosdick, +affectionately, throwing his arm round our hero. “When we part, it’ll +be because you wish it.” + +So Fosdick entered upon a new career. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. +NINE MONTHS LATER + + +The next morning Fosdick rose early, put on his new suit, and, after +getting breakfast, set out for the Broadway store in which he had +obtained a position. He left his little blacking-box in the room. + +“It’ll do to brush my own shoes,” he said. “Who knows but I may have to +come back to it again?” + +“No danger,” said Dick; “I’ll take care of the feet, and you’ll have to +look after the heads, now you’re in a hat-store.” + +“I wish you had a place too,” said Fosdick. + +“I don’t know enough yet,” said Dick. “Wait till I’ve gradooated.” + +“And can put A.B. after your name.” + +“What’s that?” + +“It stands for Bachelor of Arts. It’s a degree that students get when +they graduate from college.” + +“Oh,” said Dick, “I didn’t know but it meant A Boot-black. I can put +that after my name now. Wouldn’t Dick Hunter, A.B., sound tip-top?” + +“I must be going,” said Fosdick. “It won’t do for me to be late the +very first morning.” + +“That’s the difference between you and me,” said Dick. “I’m my own +boss, and there aint no one to find fault with me if I’m late. But I +might as well be goin’ too. There’s a gent as comes down to his store +pretty early that generally wants a shine.” + +The two boys parted at the Park. Fosdick crossed it, and proceeded to +the hat-store, while Dick, hitching up his pants, began to look about +him for a customer. It was seldom that Dick had to wait long. He was +always on the alert, and if there was any business to do he was always +sure to get his share of it. He had now a stronger inducement than ever +to attend strictly to business; his little stock of money in the +savings bank having been nearly exhausted by his liberality to his +room-mate. He determined to be as economical as possible, and moreover +to study as hard as he could, that he might be able to follow Fosdick’s +example, and obtain a place in a store or counting-room. As there were +no striking incidents occurring in our hero’s history within the next +nine months, I propose to pass over that period, and recount the +progress he made in that time. + +Fosdick was still at the hat-store, having succeeded in giving perfect +satisfaction to Mr. Henderson. His wages had just been raised to five +dollars a week. He and Dick still kept house together at Mrs. Mooney’s +lodging-house, and lived very frugally, so that both were able to save +up money. Dick had been unusually successful in business. He had +several regular patrons, who had been drawn to him by his ready wit, +and quick humor, and from two of them he had received presents of +clothing, which had saved him any expense on that score. His income had +averaged quite seven dollars a week in addition to this. Of this amount +he was now obliged to pay one dollar weekly for the room which he and +Fosdick occupied, but he was still able to save one half the remainder. +At the end of nine months therefore, or thirty-nine weeks, it will be +seen that he had accumulated no less a sum than one hundred and +seventeen dollars. Dick may be excused for feeling like a capitalist +when he looked at the long row of deposits in his little bank-book. +There were other boys in the same business who had earned as much +money, but they had had little care for the future, and spent as they +went along, so that few could boast a bank-account, however small. + +“You’ll be a rich man some time, Dick,” said Henry Fosdick, one +evening. + +“And live on Fifth Avenoo,” said Dick. + +“Perhaps so. Stranger things have happened.” + +“Well,” said Dick, “if such a misfortin’ should come upon me I should +bear it like a man. When you see a Fifth Avenoo manshun for sale for a +hundred and seventeen dollars, just let me know and I’ll buy it as an +investment.” + +“Two hundred and fifty years ago you might have bought one for that +price, probably. Real estate wasn’t very high among the Indians.” + +“Just my luck,” said Dick; “I was born too late. I’d orter have been an +Indian, and lived in splendor on my present capital.” + +“I’m afraid you’d have found your present business rather unprofitable +at that time.” + +But Dick had gained something more valuable than money. He had studied +regularly every evening, and his improvement had been marvellous. He +could now read well, write a fair hand, and had studied arithmetic as +far as Interest. Besides this he had obtained some knowledge of grammar +and geography. If some of my boy readers, who have been studying for +years, and got no farther than this, should think it incredible that +Dick, in less than a year, and studying evenings only, should have +accomplished it, they must remember that our hero was very much in +earnest in his desire to improve. He knew that, in order to grow up +respectable, he must be well advanced, and he was willing to work. But +then the reader must not forget that Dick was naturally a smart boy. +His street education had sharpened his faculties, and taught him to +rely upon himself. He knew that it would take him a long time to reach +the goal which he had set before him, and he had patience to keep on +trying. He knew that he had only himself to depend upon, and he +determined to make the most of himself,—a resolution which is the +secret of success in nine cases out of ten. + +“Dick,” said Fosdick, one evening, after they had completed their +studies, “I think you’ll have to get another teacher soon.” + +“Why?” asked Dick, in some surprise. “Have you been offered a more +loocrative position?” + +“No,” said Fosdick, “but I find I have taught you all I know myself. +You are now as good a scholar as I am.” + +“Is that true?” said Dick, eagerly, a flush of gratification coloring +his brown cheek. + +“Yes,” said Fosdick. “You’ve made wonderful progress. I propose, now +that evening schools have begun, that we join one, and study together +through the winter.” + +“All right,” said Dick. “I’d be willin’ to go now; but when I first +began to study I was ashamed to have anybody know that I was so +ignorant. Do you really mean, Fosdick, that I know as much as you?” + +“Yes, Dick, it’s true.” + +“Then I’ve got you to thank for it,” said Dick, earnestly. “You’ve made +me what I am.” + +“And haven’t you paid me, Dick?” + +“By payin’ the room-rent,” said Dick, impulsively. “What’s that? It +isn’t half enough. I wish you’d take half my money; you deserve it.” + +“Thank you, Dick, but you’re too generous. You’ve more than paid me. +Who was it took my part when all the other boys imposed upon me? And +who gave me money to buy clothes, and so got me my situation?” + +“Oh, that’s nothing!” said Dick. + +“It’s a great deal, Dick. I shall never forget it. But now it seems to +me you might try to get a situation yourself.” + +“Do I know enough?” + +“You know as much as I do.” + +“Then I’ll try,” said Dick, decidedly. + +“I wish there was a place in our store,” said Fosdick. “It would be +pleasant for us to be together.” + +“Never mind,” said Dick; “there’ll be plenty of other chances. P’r’aps +A. T. Stewart might like a partner. I wouldn’t ask more’n a quarter of +the profits.” + +“Which would be a very liberal proposal on your part,” said Fosdick, +smiling. “But perhaps Mr. Stewart might object to a partner living on +Mott Street.” + +“I’d just as lieves move to Fifth Avenoo,” said Dick. “I aint got no +prejudices in favor of Mott Street.” + +“Nor I,” said Fosdick, “and in fact I have been thinking it might be a +good plan for us to move as soon as we could afford. Mrs. Mooney +doesn’t keep the room quite so neat as she might.” + +“No,” said Dick. “She aint got no prejudices against dirt. Look at that +towel.” + +Dick held up the article indicated, which had now seen service nearly a +week, and hard service at that,—Dick’s avocation causing him to be +rather hard on towels. + +“Yes,” said Fosdick, “I’ve got about tired of it. I guess we can find +some better place without having to pay much more. When we move, you +must let me pay my share of the rent.” + +“We’ll see about that,” said Dick. “Do you propose to move to Fifth +Avenoo?” + +“Not just at present, but to some more agreeable neighborhood than +this. We’ll wait till you get a situation, and then we can decide.” + +A few days later, as Dick was looking about for customers in the +neighborhood of the Park, his attention was drawn to a fellow +boot-black, a boy about a year younger than himself, who appeared to +have been crying. + +“What’s the matter, Tom?” asked Dick. “Haven’t you had luck to-day?” + +“Pretty good,” said the boy; “but we’re havin’ hard times at home. +Mother fell last week and broke her arm, and to-morrow we’ve got to pay +the rent, and if we don’t the landlord says he’ll turn us out.” + +“Haven’t you got anything except what you earn?” asked Dick. + +“No,” said Tom, “not now. Mother used to earn three or four dollars a +week; but she can’t do nothin’ now, and my little sister and brother +are too young.” + +Dick had quick sympathies. He had been so poor himself, and obliged to +submit to so many privations that he knew from personal experience how +hard it was. Tom Wilkins he knew as an excellent boy who never +squandered his money, but faithfully carried it home to his mother. In +the days of his own extravagance and shiftlessness he had once or twice +asked Tom to accompany him to the Old Bowery or Tony Pastor’s, but Tom +had always steadily refused. + +“I’m sorry for you, Tom,” he said. “How much do you owe for rent?” + +“Two weeks now,” said Tom. + +“How much is it a week?” + +“Two dollars a week—that makes four.” + +“Have you got anything towards it?” + +“No; I’ve had to spend all my money for food for mother and the rest of +us. I’ve had pretty hard work to do that. I don’t know what we’ll do. I +haven’t any place to go to, and I’m afraid mother’ll get cold in her +arm.” + +“Can’t you borrow the money somewhere?” asked Dick. + +Tom shook his head despondingly. + +“All the people I know are as poor as I am,” said he. “They’d help me +if they could, but it’s hard work for them to get along themselves.” + +“I’ll tell you what, Tom,” said Dick, impulsively, “I’ll stand your +friend.” + +“Have you got any money?” asked Tom, doubtfully. + +“Got any money!” repeated Dick. “Don’t you know that I run a bank on my +own account? How much is it you need?” + +“Four dollars,” said Tom. “If we don’t pay that before to-morrow night, +out we go. You haven’t got as much as that, have you?” + +“Here are three dollars,” said Dick, drawing out his pocket-book. “I’ll +let you have the rest to-morrow, and maybe a little more.” + +“You’re a right down good fellow, Dick,” said Tom; “but won’t you want +it yourself?” + +“Oh, I’ve got some more,” said Dick. + +“Maybe I’ll never be able to pay you.” + +“S’pose you don’t,” said Dick; “I guess I won’t fail.” + +“I won’t forget it, Dick. I hope I’ll be able to do somethin’ for you +sometime.” + +“All right,” said Dick. “I’d ought to help you. I haven’t got no mother +to look out for. I wish I had.” + +There was a tinge of sadness in his tone, as he pronounced the last +four words; but Dick’s temperament was sanguine, and he never gave way +to unavailing sadness. Accordingly he began to whistle as he turned +away, only adding, “I’ll see you to-morrow, Tom.” + +The three dollars which Dick had handed to Tom Wilkins were his savings +for the present week. It was now Thursday afternoon. His rent, which +amounted to a dollar, he expected to save out of the earnings of Friday +and Saturday. In order to give Tom the additional assistance he had +promised, Dick would be obliged to have recourse to his bank-savings. +He would not have ventured to trench upon it for any other reason but +this. But he felt that it would be selfish to allow Tom and his mother +to suffer when he had it in his power to relieve them. But Dick was +destined to be surprised, and that in a disagreeable manner, when he +reached home. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. +DICK LOSES HIS BANK-BOOK + + +It was hinted at the close of the last chapter that Dick was destined +to be disagreeably surprised on reaching home. + +Having agreed to give further assistance to Tom Wilkins, he was +naturally led to go to the drawer where he and Fosdick kept their +bank-books. To his surprise and uneasiness _the drawer proved to be +empty!_ + +“Come here a minute, Fosdick,” he said. + +“What’s the matter, Dick?” + +“I can’t find my bank-book, nor yours either. What’s ’come of them?” + +“I took mine with me this morning, thinking I might want to put in a +little more money. I’ve got it in my pocket, now.” + +“But where’s mine?” asked Dick, perplexed. + +“I don’t know. I saw it in the drawer when I took mine this morning.” + +“Are you sure?” + +“Yes, positive, for I looked into it to see how much you had got.” + +“Did you lock it again?” asked Dick. + +“Yes; didn’t you have to unlock it just now?” + +“So I did,” said Dick. “But it’s gone now. Somebody opened it with a +key that fitted the lock, and then locked it ag’in.” + +“That must have been the way.” + +“It’s rather hard on a feller,” said Dick, who, for the first time +since we became acquainted with him, began to feel down-hearted. + +“Don’t give it up, Dick. You haven’t lost the money, only the +bank-book.” + +“Aint that the same thing?” + +“No. You can go to the bank to-morrow morning, as soon as it opens, and +tell them you have lost the book, and ask them not to pay the money to +any one except yourself.” + +“So I can,” said Dick, brightening up. “That is, if the thief hasn’t +been to the bank to-day.” + +“If he has, they might detect him by his handwriting.” + +“I’d like to get hold of the one that stole it,” said Dick, +indignantly. “I’d give him a good lickin’.” + +“It must have been somebody in the house. Suppose we go and see Mrs. +Mooney. She may know whether anybody came into our room to-day.” + +The two boys went downstairs, and knocked at the door of a little back +sitting-room where Mrs. Mooney generally spent her evenings. It was a +shabby little room, with a threadbare carpet on the floor, the walls +covered with a certain large-figured paper, patches of which had been +stripped off here and there, exposing the plaster, the remainder being +defaced by dirt and grease. But Mrs. Mooney had one of those +comfortable temperaments which are tolerant of dirt, and didn’t mind it +in the least. She was seated beside a small pine work-table, +industriously engaged in mending stockings. + +“Good-evening, Mrs. Mooney,” said Fosdick, politely. + +“Good-evening,” said the landlady. “Sit down, if you can find chairs. +I’m hard at work as you see, but a poor lone widder can’t afford to be +idle.” + +“We can’t stop long, Mrs. Mooney, but my friend here has had something +taken from his room to-day, and we thought we’d come and see you about +it.” + +“What is it?” asked the landlady. “You don’t think I’d take anything? +If I am poor, it’s an honest name I’ve always had, as all my lodgers +can testify.” + +“Certainly not, Mrs. Mooney; but there are others in the house that may +not be honest. My friend has lost his bank-book. It was safe in the +drawer this morning, but to-night it is not to be found.” + +“How much money was there in it?” asked Mrs. Mooney. + +“Over a hundred dollars,” said Fosdick. + +“It was my whole fortun’,” said Dick. “I was goin’ to buy a house next +year.” + +Mrs. Mooney was evidently surprised to learn the extent of Dick’s +wealth, and was disposed to regard him with increased respect. + +“Was the drawer locked?” she asked. + +“Yes.” + +“Then it couldn’t have been Bridget. I don’t think she has any keys.” + +“She wouldn’t know what a bank-book was,” said Fosdick. “You didn’t see +any of the lodgers go into our room to-day, did you?” + +“I shouldn’t wonder if it was Jim Travis,” said Mrs. Mooney, suddenly. + +This James Travis was a bar-tender in a low groggery in Mulberry +Street, and had been for a few weeks an inmate of Mrs. Mooney’s +lodging-house. He was a coarse-looking fellow who, from his appearance, +evidently patronized liberally the liquor he dealt out to others. He +occupied a room opposite Dick’s, and was often heard by the two boys +reeling upstairs in a state of intoxication, uttering shocking oaths. + +This Travis had made several friendly overtures to Dick and his +room-mate, and had invited them to call round at the bar-room where he +tended, and take something. But this invitation had never been +accepted, partly because the boys were better engaged in the evening, +and partly because neither of them had taken a fancy to Mr. Travis; +which certainly was not strange, for nature had not gifted him with +many charms, either of personal appearance or manners. The rejection of +his friendly proffers had caused him to take a dislike to Dick and +Henry, whom he considered stiff and unsocial. + +“What makes you think it was Travis?” asked Fosdick. “He isn’t at home +in the daytime.” + +“But he was to-day. He said he had got a bad cold, and had to come home +for a clean handkerchief.” + +“Did you see him?” asked Dick. + +“Yes,” said Mrs. Mooney. “Bridget was hanging out clothes, and I went +to the door to let him in.” + +“I wonder if he had a key that would fit our drawer,” said Fosdick. + +“Yes,” said Mrs. Mooney. “The bureaus in the two rooms are just alike. +I got ’em at auction, and most likely the locks is the same.” + +“It must have been he,” said Dick, looking towards Fosdick. + +“Yes,” said Fosdick, “it looks like it.” + +“What’s to be done? That’s what I’d like to know,” said Dick. “Of +course he’ll say he hasn’t got it; and he won’t be such a fool as to +leave it in his room.” + +“If he hasn’t been to the bank, it’s all right,” said Fosdick. “You can +go there the first thing to-morrow morning, and stop their paying any +money on it.” + +“But I can’t get any money on it myself,” said Dick. “I told Tom +Wilkins I’d let him have some more money to-morrow, or his sick +mother’ll have to turn out of their lodgin’s.” + +“How much money were you going to give him?” + +“I gave him three dollars to-day, and was goin’ to give him two dollars +to-morrow.” + +“I’ve got the money, Dick. I didn’t go to the bank this morning.” + +“All right. I’ll take it, and pay you back next week.” + +“No, Dick; if you’ve given three dollars, you must let me give two.” + +“No, Fosdick, I’d rather give the whole. You know I’ve got more money +than you. No, I haven’t, either,” said Dick, the memory of his loss +flashing upon him. “I thought I was rich this morning, but now I’m in +destitoot circumstances.” + +“Cheer up, Dick; you’ll get your money back.” + +“I hope so,” said our hero, rather ruefully. + +The fact was, that our friend Dick was beginning to feel what is so +often experienced by men who do business of a more important character +and on a larger scale than he, the bitterness of a reverse of +circumstances. With one hundred dollars and over carefully laid away in +the savings bank, he had felt quite independent. Wealth is comparative, +and Dick probably felt as rich as many men who are worth a hundred +thousand dollars. He was beginning to feel the advantages of his steady +self-denial, and to experience the pleasures of property. Not that Dick +was likely to be unduly attached to money. Let it be said to his credit +that it had never given him so much satisfaction as when it enabled him +to help Tom Wilkins in his trouble. + +Besides this, there was another thought that troubled him. When he +obtained a place he could not expect to receive as much as he was now +making from blacking boots,—probably not more than three dollars a +week,—while his expenses without clothing would amount to four dollars. +To make up the deficiency he had confidently relied upon his savings, +which would be sufficient to carry him along for a year, if necessary. +If he should not recover his money, he would be compelled to continue a +boot-black for at least six months longer; and this was rather a +discouraging reflection. On the whole it is not to be wondered at that +Dick felt unusually sober this evening, and that neither of the boys +felt much like studying. + +The two boys consulted as to whether it would be best to speak to +Travis about it. It was not altogether easy to decide. Fosdick was +opposed to it. + +“It will only put him on his guard,” said he, “and I don’t see as it +will do any good. Of course he will deny it. We’d better keep quiet, +and watch him, and, by giving notice at the bank, we can make sure that +he doesn’t get any money on it. If he does present himself at the bank, +they will know at once that he is a thief, and he can be arrested.” + +This view seemed reasonable, and Dick resolved to adopt it. On the +whole, he began to think prospects were brighter than he had at first +supposed, and his spirits rose a little. + +“How’d he know I had any bank-book? That’s what I can’t make out,” he +said. + +“Don’t you remember?” said Fosdick, after a moment’s thought, “we were +speaking of our savings, two or three evenings since?” + +“Yes,” said Dick. + +“Our door was a little open at the time, and I heard somebody come +upstairs, and stop a minute in front of it. It must have been Jim +Travis. In that way he probably found out about your money, and took +the opportunity to-day to get hold of it.” + +This might or might not be the correct explanation. At all events it +seemed probable. + +The boys were just on the point of going to bed, later in the evening, +when a knock was heard at the door, and, to their no little surprise, +their neighbor, Jim Travis, proved to be the caller. He was a +sallow-complexioned young man, with dark hair and bloodshot eyes. + +He darted a quick glance from one to the other as he entered, which did +not escape the boys’ notice. + +“How are ye, to-night?” he said, sinking into one of the two chairs +with which the room was scantily furnished. + +“Jolly,” said Dick. “How are you?” + +“Tired as a dog,” was the reply. “Hard work and poor pay; that’s the +way with me. I wanted to go to the theater, to-night, but I was hard +up, and couldn’t raise the cash.” + +Here he darted another quick glance at the boys; but neither betrayed +anything. + +“You don’t go out much, do you?” he said + +“Not much,” said Fosdick. “We spend our evenings in study.” + +“That’s precious slow,” said Travis, rather contemptuously. “What’s the +use of studying so much? You don’t expect to be a lawyer, do you, or +anything of that sort?” + +“Maybe,” said Dick. “I haven’t made up my mind yet. If my +feller-citizens should want me to go to Congress some time, I shouldn’t +want to disapp’int ’em; and then readin’ and writin’ might come handy.” + +“Well,” said Travis, rather abruptly, “I’m tired and I guess I’ll turn +in.” + +“Good-night,” said Fosdick. + +The boys looked at each other as their visitor left the room. + +“He came in to see if we’d missed the bank-book,” said Dick. + +“And to turn off suspicion from himself, by letting us know he had no +money,” added Fosdick. + +“That’s so,” said Dick. “I’d like to have searched them pockets of +his.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. +TRACKING THE THIEF + + +Fosdick was right in supposing that Jim Travis had stolen the +bank-book. He was also right in supposing that that worthy young man +had come to the knowledge of Dick’s savings by what he had accidentally +overheard. Now, Travis, like a very large number of young men of his +class, was able to dispose of a larger amount of money than he was able +to earn. Moreover, he had no great fancy for work at all, and would +have been glad to find some other way of obtaining money enough to pay +his expenses. He had recently received a letter from an old companion, +who had strayed out to California, and going at once to the mines had +been lucky enough to get possession of a very remunerative claim. He +wrote to Travis that he had already realized two thousand dollars from +it, and expected to make his fortune within six months. + +Two thousand dollars! This seemed to Travis a very large sum, and quite +dazzled his imagination. He was at once inflamed with the desire to go +out to California and try his luck. In his present situation he only +received thirty dollars a month, which was probably all that his +services were worth, but went a very little way towards gratifying his +expensive tastes. Accordingly he determined to take the next steamer to +the land of gold, if he could possibly manage to get money enough to +pay the passage. + +The price of a steerage passage at that time was seventy-five +dollars,—not a large sum, certainly,—but it might as well have been +seventy-five hundred for any chance James Travis had of raising the +amount at present. His available funds consisted of precisely two +dollars and a quarter; of which sum, one dollar and a half was due to +his washerwoman. This, however, would not have troubled Travis much, +and he would conveniently have forgotten all about it; but, even +leaving this debt unpaid, the sum at his command would not help him +materially towards paying his passage money. + +Travis applied for help to two or three of his companions; but they +were all of that kind who never keep an account with savings banks, but +carry all their spare cash about with them. One of these friends +offered to lend him thirty-seven cents, and another a dollar; but +neither of these offers seemed to encourage him much. He was about +giving up his project in despair, when he learned, accidentally, as we +have already said, the extent of Dick’s savings. + +One hundred and seventeen dollars! Why, that would not only pay his +passage, but carry him up to the mines, after he had arrived in San +Francisco. He could not help thinking it over, and the result of this +thinking was that he determined to borrow it of Dick without leave. +Knowing that neither of the boys were in their room in the daytime, he +came back in the course of the morning, and, being admitted by Mrs. +Mooney herself, said, by way of accounting for his presence, that he +had a cold, and had come back for a handkerchief. The landlady +suspected nothing, and, returning at once to her work in the kitchen, +left the coast clear. + +Travis at once entered Dick’s room, and, as there seemed to be no other +place for depositing money, tried the bureau-drawers. They were all +readily opened, except one, which proved to be locked. This he +naturally concluded must contain the money, and going back to his own +chamber for the key of the bureau, tried it on his return, and found to +his satisfaction that it would fit. When he discovered the bank-book, +his joy was mingled with disappointment. He had expected to find +bank-bills instead. This would have saved all further trouble, and +would have been immediately available. Obtaining money at the savings +bank would involve fresh risk. Travis hesitated whether to take it or +not; but finally decided that it would be worth the trouble and hazard. + +He accordingly slipped the book into his pocket, locked the drawer +again, and, forgetting all about the handkerchief for which he had come +home went downstairs, and into the street. + +There would have been time to go to the savings bank that day, but +Travis had already been absent from his place of business some time, +and did not venture to take the additional time required. Besides, not +being very much used to savings banks, never having had occasion to use +them, he thought it would be more prudent to look over the rules and +regulations, and see if he could not get some information as to the way +he ought to proceed. So the day passed, and Dick’s money was left in +safety at the bank. + +In the evening, it occurred to Travis that it might be well to find out +whether Dick had discovered his loss. This reflection it was that +induced the visit which is recorded at the close of the last chapter. +The result was that he was misled by the boys’ silence on the subject, +and concluded that nothing had yet been discovered. + +“Good!” thought Travis, with satisfaction. “If they don’t find out for +twenty-four hours, it’ll be too late, then, and I shall be all right.” + +There being a possibility of the loss being discovered before the boys +went out in the morning, Travis determined to see them at that time, +and judge whether such was the case. He waited, therefore, until he +heard the boys come out, and then opened his own door. + +“Morning, gents,” said he, sociably. “Going to business?” + +“Yes,” said Dick. “I’m afraid my clerks’ll be lazy if I aint on hand.” + +“Good joke!” said Travis. “If you pay good wages, I’d like to speak for +a place.” + +“I pay all I get myself,” said Dick. “How’s business with you?” + +“So so. Why don’t you call round, some time?” + +“All my evenin’s is devoted to literatoor and science,” said Dick. +“Thank you all the same.” + +“Where do you hang out?” inquired Travis, in choice language, +addressing Fosdick. + +“At Henderson’s hat and cap store, on Broadway.” + +“I’ll look in upon you some time when I want a tile,” said Travis. “I +suppose you sell cheaper to your friends.” + +“I’ll be as reasonable as I can,” said Fosdick, not very cordially; for +he did not much fancy having it supposed by his employer that such a +disreputable-looking person as Travis was a friend of his. + +However, Travis had no idea of showing himself at the Broadway store, +and only said this by way of making conversation, and encouraging the +boys to be social. + +“You haven’t any of you gents seen a pearl-handled knife, have you?” he +asked. + +“No,” said Fosdick; “have you lost one?” + +“Yes,” said Travis, with unblushing falsehood. “I left it on my bureau +a day or two since. I’ve missed one or two other little matters. +Bridget don’t look to me any too honest. Likely she’s got ’em.” + +“What are you goin’ to do about it?” said Dick. + +“I’ll keep mum unless I lose something more, and then I’ll kick up a +row, and haul her over the coals. Have you missed anything?” + +“No,” said Fosdick, answering for himself, as he could do without +violating the truth. + +There was a gleam of satisfaction in the eyes of Travis, as he heard +this. + +“They haven’t found it out yet,” he thought. “I’ll bag the money +to-day, and then they may whistle for it.” + +Having no further object to serve in accompanying the boys, he bade +them good-morning, and turned down another street. + +“He’s mighty friendly all of a sudden,” said Dick. + +“Yes,” said Fosdick; “it’s very evident what it all means. He wants to +find out whether you have discovered your loss or not.” + +“But he didn’t find out.” + +“No; we’ve put him on the wrong track. He means to get his money +to-day, no doubt.” + +“My money,” suggested Dick. + +“I accept the correction,” said Fosdick. + +“Of course, Dick, you’ll be on hand as soon as the bank opens.” + +“In course I shall. Jim Travis’ll find he’s walked into the wrong +shop.” + +“The bank opens at ten o’clock, you know.” + +“I’ll be there on time.” + +The two boys separated. + +“Good luck, Dick,” said Fosdick, as he parted from him. “It’ll all come +out right, I think.” + +“I hope ’twill,” said Dick. + +He had recovered from his temporary depression, and made up his mind +that the money would be recovered. He had no idea of allowing himself +to be outwitted by Jim Travis, and enjoyed already, in anticipation, +the pleasure of defeating his rascality. + +It wanted two hours and a half yet to ten o’clock, and this time to +Dick was too precious to be wasted. It was the time of his greatest +harvest. He accordingly repaired to his usual place of business, +succeeded in obtaining six customers, which yielded him sixty cents. He +then went to a restaurant, and got some breakfast. It was now half-past +nine, and Dick, feeling that it wouldn’t do to be late, left his box in +charge of Johnny Nolan, and made his way to the bank. + +The officers had not yet arrived, and Dick lingered on the outside, +waiting till they should come. He was not without a little uneasiness, +fearing that Travis might be as prompt as himself, and finding him +there, might suspect something, and so escape the snare. But, though +looking cautiously up and down the street, he could discover no traces +of the supposed thief. In due time ten o’clock struck, and immediately +afterwards the doors of the bank were thrown open, and our hero +entered. + +As Dick had been in the habit of making a weekly visit for the last +nine months, the cashier had come to know him by sight. + +“You’re early, this morning, my lad,” he said, pleasantly. “Have you +got some more money to deposit? You’ll be getting rich, soon.” + +“I don’t know about that,” said Dick. “My bank-book’s been stole.” + +“Stolen!” echoed the cashier. “That’s unfortunate. Not so bad as it +might be, though. The thief can’t collect the money.” + +“That’s what I came to see about,” said Dick. “I was afraid he might +have got it already.” + +“He hasn’t been here yet. Even if he had, I remember you, and should +have detected him. When was it taken?” + +“Yesterday,” said Dick. “I missed it in the evenin’ when I got home.” + +“Have you any suspicion as to the person who took it?” asked the +cashier. + +Dick thereupon told all he knew as to the general character and +suspicious conduct of Jim Travis, and the cashier agreed with him that +he was probably the thief. Dick also gave his reason for thinking that +he would visit the bank that morning, to withdraw the funds. + +“Very good,” said the cashier. “We’ll be ready for him. What is the +number of your book?” + +“No. 5,678,” said Dick. + +“Now give me a little description of this Travis whom you suspect.” + +Dick accordingly furnished a brief outline sketch of Travis, not +particularly complimentary to the latter. + +“That will answer. I think I shall know him,” said the cashier. “You +may depend upon it that he shall receive no money on your account.” + +“Thank you,” said Dick. + +Considerably relieved in mind, our hero turned towards the door, +thinking that there would be nothing gained by his remaining longer, +while he would of course lose time. + +He had just reached the doors, which were of glass, when through them +he perceived James Travis himself just crossing the street, and +apparently coming towards the bank. It would not do, of course, for him +to be seen. + +“Here he is,” he exclaimed, hurrying back. “Can’t you hide me +somewhere? I don’t want to be seen.” + +The cashier understood at once how the land lay. He quickly opened a +little door, and admitted Dick behind the counter. + +“Stoop down,” he said, “so as not to be seen.” + +Dick had hardly done so when Jim Travis opened the outer door, and, +looking about him in a little uncertainty, walked up to the cashier’s +desk. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. +TRAVIS IS ARRESTED + + +Jim Travis advanced into the bank with a doubtful step, knowing well +that he was on a dishonest errand, and heartily wishing that he were +well out of it. After a little hesitation, he approached the +paying-teller, and, exhibiting the bank-book, said, “I want to get my +money out.” + +The bank-officer took the book, and, after looking at it a moment, +said, “How much do you want?” + +“The whole of it,” said Travis. + +“You can draw out any part of it, but to draw out the whole requires a +week’s notice.” + +“Then I’ll take a hundred dollars.” + +“Are you the person to whom the book belongs?” + +“Yes, sir,” said Travis, without hesitation. + +“Your name is—” + +“Hunter.” + +The bank-clerk went to a large folio volume, containing the names of +depositors, and began to turn over the leaves. While he was doing this, +he managed to send out a young man connected with the bank for a +policeman. Travis did not perceive this, or did not suspect that it had +anything to do with himself. Not being used to savings banks, he +supposed the delay only what was usual. After a search, which was only +intended to gain time that a policeman might be summoned, the cashier +came back, and, sliding out a piece of paper to Travis, said, “It will +be necessary for you to write an order for the money.” + +Travis took a pen, which he found on the ledge outside, and wrote the +order, signing his name “Dick Hunter,” having observed that name on the +outside of the book. + +“Your name is Dick Hunter, then?” said the cashier, taking the paper, +and looking at the thief over his spectacles. + +“Yes,” said Travis, promptly. + +“But,” continued the cashier, “I find Hunter’s age is put down on the +bank-book as fourteen. Surely you must be more than that.” + +Travis would gladly have declared that he was only fourteen; but, being +in reality twenty-three, and possessing a luxuriant pair of whiskers, +this was not to be thought of. He began to feel uneasy. + +“Dick Hunter’s my younger brother,” he said. “I’m getting out the money +for him.” + +“I thought you said your own name was Dick Hunter,” said the cashier. + +“I said my name was Hunter,” said Travis, ingeniously. “I didn’t +understand you.” + +“But you’ve signed the name of Dick Hunter to this order. How is that?” +questioned the troublesome cashier. + +Travis saw that he was getting himself into a tight place; but his +self-possession did not desert him. + +“I thought I must give my brother’s name,” he answered. + +“What is your own name?” + +“Henry Hunter.” + +“Can you bring any one to testify that the statement you are making is +correct?” + +“Yes, a dozen if you like,” said Travis, boldly. “Give me the book, and +I’ll come back this afternoon. I didn’t think there’d be such a fuss +about getting out a little money.” + +“Wait a moment. Why don’t your brother come himself?” + +“Because he’s sick. He’s down with the measles,” said Travis. + +Here the cashier signed to Dick to rise and show himself. Our hero +accordingly did so. + +“You will be glad to find that he has recovered,” said the cashier, +pointing to Dick. + +With an exclamation of anger and dismay, Travis, who saw the game was +up, started for the door, feeling that safety made such a course +prudent. But he was too late. He found himself confronted by a burly +policeman, who seized him by the arm, saying, “Not so fast, my man. I +want you.” + +“Let me go,” exclaimed Travis, struggling to free himself. + +“I’m sorry I can’t oblige you,” said the officer. “You’d better not +make a fuss, or I may have to hurt you a little.” + +Travis sullenly resigned himself to his fate, darting a look of rage at +Dick, whom he considered the author of his present misfortune. + +“This is your book,” said the cashier, handing back his rightful +property to our hero. “Do you wish to draw out any money?” + +“Two dollars,” said Dick. + +“Very well. Write an order for the amount.” + +Before doing so, Dick, who now that he saw Travis in the power of the +law began to pity him, went up to the officer, and said,— + +“Won’t you let him go? I’ve got my bank-book back, and I don’t want +anything done to him.” + +“Sorry I can’t oblige you,” said the officer; “but I’m not allowed to +do it. He’ll have to stand his trial.” + +“I’m sorry for you, Travis,” said Dick. “I didn’t want you arrested. I +only wanted my bank-book back.” + +“Curse you!” said Travis, scowling vindictively. “Wait till I get free. +See if I don’t fix you.” + +“You needn’t pity him too much,” said the officer. “I know him now. +He’s been to the Island before.” + +“It’s a lie,” said Travis, violently. + +“Don’t be too noisy, my friend,” said the officer. “If you’ve got no +more business here, we’ll be going.” + +He withdrew with the prisoner in charge, and Dick, having drawn his two +dollars, left the bank. Notwithstanding the violent words the prisoner +had used towards himself, and his attempted robbery, he could not help +feeling sorry that he had been instrumental in causing his arrest. + +“I’ll keep my book a little safer hereafter,” thought Dick. “Now I must +go and see Tom Wilkins.” + +Before dismissing the subject of Travis and his theft, it may be +remarked that he was duly tried, and, his guilt being clear, was sent +to Blackwell’s Island for nine months. At the end of that time, on his +release, he got a chance to work his passage on a ship to San +Francisco, where he probably arrived in due time. At any rate, nothing +more has been heard of him, and probably his threat of vengence against +Dick will never be carried into effect. + +Returning to the City Hall Park, Dick soon fell in with Tom Wilkins. + +“How are you, Tom?” he said. “How’s your mother?” + +“She’s better, Dick, thank you. She felt worried about bein’ turned out +into the street; but I gave her that money from you, and now she feels +a good deal easier.” + +“I’ve got some more for you, Tom,” said Dick, producing a two-dollar +bill from his pocket. + +“I ought not to take it from you, Dick.” + +“Oh, it’s all right, Tom. Don’t be afraid.” + +“But you may need it yourself.” + +“There’s plenty more where that came from.” + +“Any way, one dollar will be enough. With that we can pay the rent.” + +“You’ll want the other to buy something to eat.” + +“You’re very kind, Dick.” + +“I’d ought to be. I’ve only got myself to take care of.” + +“Well, I’ll take it for my mother’s sake. When you want anything done +just call on Tom Wilkins.” + +“All right. Next week, if your mother doesn’t get better, I’ll give you +some more.” + +Tom thanked our hero very gratefully, and Dick walked away, feeling the +self-approval which always accompanies a generous and disinterested +action. He was generous by nature, and, before the period at which he +is introduced to the reader’s notice, he frequently treated his friends +to cigars and oyster-stews. Sometimes he invited them to accompany him +to the theatre at his expense. But he never derived from these acts of +liberality the same degree of satisfaction as from this timely gift to +Tom Wilkins. He felt that his money was well bestowed, and would save +an entire family from privation and discomfort. Five dollars would, to +be sure, make something of a difference in the amount of his savings. +It was more than he was able to save up in a week. But Dick felt fully +repaid for what he had done, and he felt prepared to give as much more, +if Tom’s mother should continue to be sick, and should appear to him to +need it. + +Besides all this, Dick felt a justifiable pride in his financial +ability to afford so handsome a gift. A year before, however much he +might have desired to give, it would have been quite out of his power +to give five dollars. His cash balance never reached that amount. It +was seldom, indeed, that it equalled one dollar. In more ways than one +Dick was beginning to reap the advantage of his self-denial and +judicious economy. + +It will be remembered that when Mr. Whitney at parting with Dick +presented him with five dollars, he told him that he might repay it to +some other boy who was struggling upward. Dick thought of this, and it +occurred to him that after all he was only paying up an old debt. + +When Fosdick came home in the evening, Dick announced his success in +recovering his lost money, and described the manner it had been brought +about. + +“You’re in luck,” said Fosdick. “I guess we’d better not trust the +bureau-drawer again.” + +“I mean to carry my book round with me,” said Dick. + +“So shall I, as long as we stay at Mrs. Mooney’s. I wish we were in a +better place.” + +“I must go down and tell her she needn’t expect Travis back. Poor chap, +I pity him!” + +Travis was never more seen in Mrs. Mooney’s establishment. He was owing +that lady for a fortnight’s rent of his room, which prevented her +feeling much compassion for him. The room was soon after let to a more +creditable tenant who proved a less troublesome neighbor than his +predecessor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. +DICK RECEIVES A LETTER + + +It was about a week after Dick’s recovery of his bank-book, that +Fosdick brought home with him in the evening a copy of the “Daily Sun.” + +“Would you like to see your name in print, Dick?” he asked. + +“Yes,” said Dick, who was busy at the wash-stand, endeavoring to efface +the marks which his day’s work had left upon his hands. “They haven’t +put me up for mayor, have they? ’Cause if they have, I shan’t accept. +It would interfere too much with my private business.” + +“No,” said Fosdick, “they haven’t put you up for office yet, though +that may happen sometime. But if you want to see your name in print, +here it is.” + +Dick was rather incredulous, but, having dried his hands on the towel, +took the paper, and following the directions of Fosdick’s finger, +observed in the list of advertised letters the name of “RAGGED DICK.” + +“By gracious, so it is,” said he. “Do you s’pose it means me?” + +“I don’t know of any other Ragged Dick,—do you?” + +“No,” said Dick, reflectively; “it must be me. But I don’t know of +anybody that would be likely to write to me.” + +“Perhaps it is Frank Whitney,” suggested Fosdick, after a little +reflection. “Didn’t he promise to write to you?” + +“Yes,” said Dick, “and he wanted me to write to him.” + +“Where is he now?” + +“He was going to a boarding-school in Connecticut, he said. The name of +the town was Barnton.” + +“Very likely the letter is from him.” + +“I hope it is. Frank was a tip-top boy, and he was the first that made +me ashamed of bein’ so ignorant and dirty.” + +“You had better go to the post-office to-morrow morning, and ask for +the letter.” + +“P’r’aps they won’t give it to me.” + +“Suppose you wear the old clothes you used to a year ago, when Frank +first saw you? They won’t have any doubt of your being Ragged Dick +then.” + +“I guess I will. I’ll be sort of ashamed to be seen in ’em though,” +said Dick, who had considerable more pride in a neat personal +appearance than when we were first introduced to him. + +“It will be only for one day, or one morning,” said Fosdick. + +“I’d do more’n that for the sake of gettin’ a letter from Frank. I’d +like to see him.” + +The next morning, in accordance with the suggestion of Fosdick, Dick +arrayed himself in the long disused Washington coat and Napoleon pants, +which he had carefully preserved, for what reason he could hardly +explain. + +When fairly equipped, Dick surveyed himself in the mirror,—if the +little seven-by-nine-inch looking-glass, with which the room was +furnished, deserved the name. The result of the survey was not on the +whole a pleasing one. To tell the truth, Dick was quite ashamed of his +appearance, and, on opening the chamber-door, looked around to see that +the coast was clear, not being willing to have any of his +fellow-boarders see him in his present attire. + +He managed to slip out into the street unobserved, and, after attending +to two or three regular customers who came down-town early in the +morning, he made his way down Nassau Street to the post-office. He +passed along until he came to a compartment on which he read ADVERTISED +LETTERS, and, stepping up to the little window, said,— + +“There’s a letter for me. I saw it advertised in the ‘Sun’ yesterday.” + +“What name?” demanded the clerk. + +“Ragged Dick,” answered our hero. + +“That’s a queer name,” said the clerk, surveying him a little +curiously. “Are you Ragged Dick?” + +“If you don’t believe me, look at my clo’es,” said Dick. + +“That’s pretty good proof, certainly,” said the clerk, laughing. “If +that isn’t your name, it deserves to be.” + +“I believe in dressin’ up to your name,” said Dick. + +“Do you know any one in Barnton, Connecticut?” asked the clerk, who had +by this time found the letter. + +“Yes,” said Dick. “I know a chap that’s at boardin’-school there.” + +“It appears to be in a boy’s hand. I think it must be yours.” + +The letter was handed to Dick through the window. He received it +eagerly, and drawing back so as not to be in the way of the throng who +were constantly applying for letters, or slipping them into the boxes +provided for them, hastily opened it, and began to read. As the reader +may be interested in the contents of the letter as well as Dick, we +transcribe it below. + +It was dated Barnton, Conn., and commenced thus,— + +“DEAR DICK,—You must excuse my addressing this letter to ‘Ragged Dick’; +but the fact is, I don’t know what your last name is, nor where you +live. I am afraid there is not much chance of your getting this letter; +but I hope you will. I have thought of you very often, and wondered how +you were getting along, and I should have written to you before if I +had known where to direct. + +“Let me tell you a little about myself. Barnton is a very pretty +country town, only about six miles from Hartford. The boarding-school +which I attend is under the charge of Ezekiel Munroe, A.M. He is a man +of about fifty, a graduate of Yale College, and has always been a +teacher. It is a large two-story house, with an addition containing a +good many small bed-chambers for the boys. There are about twenty of +us, and there is one assistant teacher who teaches the English +branches. Mr. Munroe, or Old Zeke, as we call him behind his back, +teaches Latin and Greek. I am studying both these languages, because +father wants me to go to college. + +“But you won’t be interested in hearing about our studies. I will tell +you how we amuse ourselves. There are about fifty acres of land +belonging to Mr. Munroe; so that we have plenty of room for play. About +a quarter of a mile from the house there is a good-sized pond. There is +a large, round-bottomed boat, which is stout and strong. Every +Wednesday and Saturday afternoon, when the weather is good, we go out +rowing on the pond. Mr. Barton, the assistant teacher, goes with us, to +look after us. In the summer we are allowed to go in bathing. In the +winter there is splendid skating on the pond. + +“Besides this, we play ball a good deal, and we have various other +plays. So we have a pretty good time, although we study pretty hard +too. I am getting on very well in my studies. Father has not decided +yet where he will send me to college. + +“I wish you were here, Dick. I should enjoy your company, and besides I +should like to feel that you were getting an education. I think you are +naturally a pretty smart boy; but I suppose, as you have to earn your +own living, you don’t get much chance to learn. I only wish I had a few +hundred dollars of my own. I would have you come up here, and attend +school with us. If I ever have a chance to help you in any way, you may +be sure that I will. + +“I shall have to wind up my letter now, as I have to hand in a +composition to-morrow, on the life and character of Washington. I might +say that I have a friend who wears a coat that once belonged to the +general. But I suppose that coat must be worn out by this time. I don’t +much like writing compositions. I would a good deal rather write +letters. + +“I have written a longer letter than I meant to. I hope you will get +it, though I am afraid not. If you do, you must be sure to answer it, +as soon as possible. You needn’t mind if your writing does look like +‘hens-tracks,’ as you told me once. + +“Good-by, Dick. You must always think of me, as your very true friend, + +“FRANK WHITNEY.” + + +Dick read this letter with much satisfaction. It is always pleasant to +be remembered, and Dick had so few friends that it was more to him than +to boys who are better provided. Again, he felt a new sense of +importance in having a letter addressed to him. It was the first letter +he had ever received. If it had been sent to him a year before, he +would not have been able to read it. But now, thanks to Fosdick’s +instructions, he could not only read writing, but he could write a very +good hand himself. + +There was one passage in the letter which pleased Dick. It was where +Frank said that if he had the money he would pay for his education +himself. + +“He’s a tip-top feller,” said Dick. “I wish I could see him ag’in.” + +There were two reasons why Dick would like to have seen Frank. One was, +the natural pleasure he would have in meeting a friend; but he felt +also that he would like to have Frank witness the improvement he had +made in his studies and mode of life. + +“He’d find me a little more ’spectable than when he first saw me,” +thought Dick. + +Dick had by this time got up to Printing House Square. Standing on +Spruce Street, near the “Tribune” office, was his old enemy, Micky +Maguire. + +It has already been said that Micky felt a natural enmity towards those +in his own condition in life who wore better clothes than himself. For +the last nine months, Dick’s neat appearance had excited the ire of the +young Philistine. To appear in neat attire and with a clean face Micky +felt was a piece of presumption, and an assumption of superiority on +the part of our hero, and he termed it “tryin’ to be a swell.” + +Now his astonished eyes rested on Dick in his ancient attire, which was +very similar to his own. It was a moment of triumph to him. He felt +that “pride had had a fall,” and he could not forbear reminding Dick of +it. + +“Them’s nice clo’es you’ve got on,” said he, sarcastically, as Dick +came up. + +“Yes,” said Dick, promptly. “I’ve been employin’ your tailor. If my +face was only dirty we’d be taken for twin brothers.” + +“So you’ve give up tryin’ to be a swell?” + +“Only for this partic’lar occasion,” said Dick. “I wanted to make a +fashionable call, so I put on my regimentals.” + +“I don’t b’lieve you’ve got any better clo’es,” said Micky. + +“All right,” said Dick, “I won’t charge you nothin’ for what you +believe.” + +Here a customer presented himself for Micky, and Dick went back to his +room to change his clothes, before resuming business. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. +DICK WRITES HIS FIRST LETTER + + +When Fosdick reached home in the evening, Dick displayed his letter +with some pride. + +“It’s a nice letter,” said Fosdick, after reading it. “I should like to +know Frank.” + +“I’ll bet you would,” said Dick. “He’s a trump.” + +“When are you going to answer it?” + +“I don’t know,” said Dick, dubiously. “I never writ a letter.” + +“That’s no reason why you shouldn’t. There’s always a first time, you +know.” + +“I don’t know what to say,” said Dick. + +“Get some paper and sit down to it, and you’ll find enough to say. You +can do that this evening instead of studying.” + +“If you’ll look it over afterwards, and shine it up a little.” + +“Yes, if it needs it; but I rather think Frank would like it best just +as you wrote it.” + +Dick decided to adopt Fosdick’s suggestion. He had very serious doubts +as to his ability to write a letter. Like a good many other boys, he +looked upon it as a very serious job, not reflecting that, after all, +letter-writing is nothing but talking upon paper. Still, in spite of +his misgivings, he felt that the letter ought to be answered, and he +wished Frank to hear from him. After various preparations, he at last +got settled down to his task, and, before the evening was over, a +letter was written. As the first letter which Dick had ever produced, +and because it was characteristic of him, my readers may like to read +it. + +Here it is,— + +“DEAR FRANK,—I got your letter this mornin’, and was very glad to hear +you hadn’t forgotten Ragged Dick. I aint so ragged as I was. Openwork +coats and trowsers has gone out of fashion. I put on the Washington +coat and Napoleon pants to go to the post-office, for fear they +wouldn’t think I was the boy that was meant. On my way back I received +the congratulations of my intimate friend, Micky Maguire, on my +improved appearance. + +“I’ve give up sleepin’ in boxes, and old wagons, findin’ it didn’t +agree with my constitution. I’ve hired a room in Mott Street, and have +got a private tooter, who rooms with me and looks after my studies in +the evenin’. Mott Street aint very fashionable; but my manshun on Fifth +Avenoo isn’t finished yet, and I’m afraid it won’t be till I’m a +gray-haired veteran. I’ve got a hundred dollars towards it, which I’ve +saved up from my earnin’s. I haven’t forgot what you and your uncle +said to me, and I’m tryin’ to grow up ’spectable. I haven’t been to +Tony Pastor’s, or the Old Bowery, for ever so long. I’d rather save up +my money to support me in my old age. When my hair gets gray, I’m goin’ +to knock off blackin’ boots, and go into some light, genteel +employment, such as keepin’ an apple-stand, or disseminatin’ pea-nuts +among the people. + +“I’ve got so as to read pretty well, so my tooter says. I’ve been +studyin’ geography and grammar also. I’ve made such astonishin’ +progress that I can tell a noun from a conjunction as far away as I can +see ’em. Tell Mr. Munroe that if he wants an accomplished teacher in +his school, he can send for me, and I’ll come on by the very next +train. Or, if he wants to sell out for a hundred dollars, I’ll buy the +whole concern, and agree to teach the scholars all I know myself in +less than six months. Is teachin’ as good business, generally speakin’, +as blackin’ boots? My private tooter combines both, and is makin’ a +fortun’ with great rapidity. He’ll be as rich as Astor some time, _if +he only lives long enough._ + +“I should think you’d have a bully time at your school. I should like +to go out in the boat, or play ball with you. When are you comin’ to +the city? I wish you’d write and let me know when you do, and I’ll call +and see you. I’ll leave my business in the hands of my numerous clerks, +and go round with you. There’s lots of things you didn’t see when you +was here before. They’re getting on fast at the Central Park. It looks +better than it did a year ago. + +“I aint much used to writin’ letters. As this is the first one I ever +wrote, I hope you’ll excuse the mistakes. I hope you’ll write to me +again soon. I can’t write so good a letter as you; but, I’ll do my +best, as the man said when he was asked if he could swim over to +Brooklyn backwards. Good-by, Frank. Thank you for all your kindness. +Direct your next letter to No. — Mott Street. + +“Your true friend, +“DICK HUNTER.” + + +When Dick had written the last word, he leaned back in his chair, and +surveyed the letter with much satisfaction. + +“I didn’t think I could have wrote such a long letter, Fosdick,” said +he. + +“Written would be more grammatical, Dick,” suggested his friend. + +“I guess there’s plenty of mistakes in it,” said Dick. “Just look at +it, and see.” + +Fosdick took the letter, and read it over carefully. + +“Yes, there are some mistakes,” he said; “but it sounds so much like +you that I think it would be better to let it go just as it is. It will +be more likely to remind Frank of what you were when he first saw you.” + +“Is it good enough to send?” asked Dick, anxiously. + +“Yes; it seems to me to be quite a good letter. It is written just as +you talk. Nobody but you could have written such a letter, Dick. I +think Frank will be amused at your proposal to come up there as +teacher.” + +“P’r’aps it would be a good idea for us to open a seleck school here in +Mott Street,” said Dick, humorously. “We could call it ‘Professor +Fosdick and Hunter’s Mott Street Seminary.’ Boot-blackin’ taught by +Professor Hunter.” + +The evening was so far advanced that Dick decided to postpone copying +his letter till the next evening. By this time he had come to have a +very fair handwriting, so that when the letter was complete it really +looked quite creditable, and no one would have suspected that it was +Dick’s first attempt in this line. Our hero surveyed it with no little +complacency. In fact, he felt rather proud of it, since it reminded him +of the great progress he had made. He carried it down to the +post-office, and deposited it with his own hands in the proper box. +Just on the steps of the building, as he was coming out, he met Johnny +Nolan, who had been sent on an errand to Wall Street by some gentleman, +and was just returning. + +“What are you doin’ down here, Dick?” asked Johnny. + +“I’ve been mailin’ a letter.” + +“Who sent you?” + +“Nobody.” + +“I mean, who writ the letter?” + +“I wrote it myself.” + +“Can you write letters?” asked Johnny, in amazement. + +“Why shouldn’t I?” + +“I didn’t know you could write. I can’t.” + +“Then you ought to learn.” + +“I went to school once; but it was too hard work, so I give it up.” + +“You’re lazy, Johnny,—that’s what’s the matter. How’d you ever expect +to know anything, if you don’t try?” + +“I can’t learn.” + +“You can, if you want to.” + +Johnny Nolan was evidently of a different opinion. He was a +good-natured boy, large of his age, with nothing particularly bad about +him, but utterly lacking in that energy, ambition, and natural +sharpness, for which Dick was distinguished. He was not adapted to +succeed in the life which circumstances had forced upon him; for in the +street-life of the metropolis a boy needs to be on the alert, and have +all his wits about him, or he will find himself wholly distanced by his +more enterprising competitors for popular favor. To succeed in his +profession, humble as it is, a boot-black must depend upon the same +qualities which gain success in higher walks in life. It was easy to +see that Johnny, unless very much favored by circumstances, would never +rise much above his present level. For Dick, we cannot help hoping much +better things. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. +AN EXCITING ADVENTURE + + +Dick now began to look about for a position in a store or +counting-room. Until he should obtain one he determined to devote half +the day to blacking boots, not being willing to break in upon his small +capital. He found that he could earn enough in half a day to pay all +his necessary expenses, including the entire rent of the room. Fosdick +desired to pay his half; but Dick steadily refused, insisting upon +paying so much as compensation for his friend’s services as instructor. + +It should be added that Dick’s peculiar way of speaking and use of +slang terms had been somewhat modified by his education and his +intimacy with Henry Fosdick. Still he continued to indulge in them to +some extent, especially when he felt like joking, and it was natural to +Dick to joke, as my readers have probably found out by this time. Still +his manners were considerably improved, so that he was more likely to +obtain a situation than when first introduced to our notice. + +Just now, however, business was very dull, and merchants, instead of +hiring new assistants, were disposed to part with those already in +their employ. After making several ineffectual applications, Dick began +to think he should be obliged to stick to his profession until the next +season. But about this time something occurred which considerably +improved his chances of preferment. + +This is the way it happened. + +As Dick, with a balance of more than a hundred dollars in the savings +bank, might fairly consider himself a young man of property, he thought +himself justified in occasionally taking a half holiday from business, +and going on an excursion. On Wednesday afternoon Henry Fosdick was +sent by his employer on an errand to that part of Brooklyn near +Greenwood Cemetery. Dick hastily dressed himself in his best, and +determined to accompany him. + +The two boys walked down to the South Ferry, and, paying their two +cents each, entered the ferry boat. They remained at the stern, and +stood by the railing, watching the great city, with its crowded +wharves, receding from view. Beside them was a gentleman with two +children,—a girl of eight and a little boy of six. The children were +talking gayly to their father. While he was pointing out some object of +interest to the little girl, the boy managed to creep, unobserved, +beneath the chain that extends across the boat, for the protection of +passengers, and, stepping incautiously to the edge of the boat, fell +over into the foaming water. + +At the child’s scream, the father looked up, and, with a cry of horror, +sprang to the edge of the boat. He would have plunged in, but, being +unable to swim, would only have endangered his own life, without being +able to save his child. + +“My child!” he exclaimed in anguish,—“who will save my child? A +thousand—ten thousand dollars to any one who will save him!” + +There chanced to be but few passengers on board at the time, and nearly +all these were either in the cabins or standing forward. Among the few +who saw the child fall was our hero. + +Now Dick was an expert swimmer. It was an accomplishment which he had +possessed for years, and he no sooner saw the boy fall than he resolved +to rescue him. His determination was formed before he heard the liberal +offer made by the boy’s father. Indeed, I must do Dick the justice to +say that, in the excitement of the moment, he did not hear it at all, +nor would it have stimulated the alacrity with which he sprang to the +rescue of the little boy. + +Little Johnny had already risen once, and gone under for the second +time, when our hero plunged in. He was obliged to strike out for the +boy, and this took time. He reached him none too soon. Just as he was +sinking for the third and last time, he caught him by the jacket. Dick +was stout and strong, but Johnny clung to him so tightly, that it was +with great difficulty he was able to sustain himself. + +“Put your arms round my neck,” said Dick. + +The little boy mechanically obeyed, and clung with a grasp strengthened +by his terror. In this position Dick could bear his weight better. But +the ferry-boat was receding fast. It was quite impossible to reach it. +The father, his face pale with terror and anguish, and his hands +clasped in suspense, saw the brave boy’s struggles, and prayed with +agonizing fervor that he might be successful. But it is probable, for +they were now midway of the river, that both Dick and the little boy +whom he had bravely undertaken to rescue would have been drowned, had +not a row-boat been fortunately near. The two men who were in it +witnessed the accident, and hastened to the rescue of our hero. + +“Keep up a little longer,” they shouted, bending to their oars, “and we +will save you.” + +Dick heard the shout, and it put fresh strength into him. He battled +manfully with the treacherous sea, his eyes fixed longingly upon the +approaching boat. + +“Hold on tight, little boy,” he said. “There’s a boat coming.” + +The little boy did not see the boat. His eyes were closed to shut out +the fearful water, but he clung the closer to his young preserver. Six +long, steady strokes, and the boat dashed along side. Strong hands +seized Dick and his youthful burden, and drew them into the boat, both +dripping with water. + +“God be thanked!” exclaimed the father, as from the steamer he saw the +child’s rescue. “That brave boy shall be rewarded, if I sacrifice my +whole fortune to compass it.” + +“You’ve had a pretty narrow escape, young chap,” said one of the +boatmen to Dick. “It was a pretty tough job you undertook.” + +“Yes,” said Dick. “That’s what I thought when I was in the water. If it +hadn’t been for you, I don’t know what would have ’come of us.” + +“Anyhow you’re a plucky boy, or you wouldn’t have dared to jump into +the water after this little chap. It was a risky thing to do.” + +“I’m used to the water,” said Dick, modestly. “I didn’t stop to think +of the danger, but I wasn’t going to see that little fellow drown +without tryin’ to save him.” + +The boat at once headed for the ferry wharf on the Brooklyn side. The +captain of the ferry-boat, seeing the rescue, did not think it +necessary to stop his boat, but kept on his way. The whole occurrence +took place in less time than I have occupied in telling it. + +The father was waiting on the wharf to receive his little boy, with +what feelings of gratitude and joy can be easily understood. With a +burst of happy tears he clasped him to his arms. Dick was about to +withdraw modestly, but the gentleman perceived the movement, and, +putting down the child, came forward, and, clasping his hand, said with +emotion, “My brave boy, I owe you a debt I can never repay. But for +your timely service I should now be plunged into an anguish which I +cannot think of without a shudder.” + +Our hero was ready enough to speak on most occasions, but always felt +awkward when he was praised. + +“It wasn’t any trouble,” he said, modestly. “I can swim like a top.” + +“But not many boys would have risked their lives for a stranger,” said +the gentleman. “But,” he added with a sudden thought, as his glance +rested on Dick’s dripping garments, “both you and my little boy will +take cold in wet clothes. Fortunately I have a friend living close at +hand, at whose house you will have an opportunity of taking off your +clothes, and having them dried.” + +Dick protested that he never took cold; but Fosdick, who had now joined +them, and who, it is needless to say, had been greatly alarmed at +Dick’s danger, joined in urging compliance with the gentleman’s +proposal, and in the end our hero had to yield. His new friend secured +a hack, the driver of which agreed for extra recompense to receive the +dripping boys into his carriage, and they were whirled rapidly to a +pleasant house in a side street, where matters were quickly explained, +and both boys were put to bed. + +“I aint used to goin’ to bed quite so early,” thought Dick. “This is +the queerest excursion I ever took.” + +Like most active boys Dick did not enjoy the prospect of spending half +a day in bed; but his confinement did not last as long as he +anticipated. + +In about an hour the door of his chamber was opened, and a servant +appeared, bringing a new and handsome suit of clothes throughout. + +“You are to put on these,” said the servant to Dick; “but you needn’t +get up till you feel like it.” + +“Whose clothes are they?” asked Dick. + +“They are yours.” + +“Mine! Where did they come from?” + +“Mr. Rockwell sent out and bought them for you. They are the same size +as your wet ones.” + +“Is he here now?” + +“No. He bought another suit for the little boy, and has gone back to +New York. Here’s a note he asked me to give you.” + +Dick opened the paper, and read as follows,— + +“Please accept this outfit of clothes as the first instalment of a debt +which I can never repay. I have asked to have your wet suit dried, when +you can reclaim it. Will you oblige me by calling to-morrow at my +counting room, No. —, Pearl Street. + +“Your friend, +“JAMES ROCKWELL.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. +CONCLUSION + + +When Dick was dressed in his new suit, he surveyed his figure with +pardonable complacency. It was the best he had ever worn, and fitted +him as well as if it had been made expressly for him. + +“He’s done the handsome thing,” said Dick to himself; “but there wasn’t +no ’casion for his givin’ me these clothes. My lucky stars are shinin’ +pretty bright now. Jumpin’ into the water pays better than shinin’ +boots; but I don’t think I’d like to try it more’n once a week.” + +About eleven o’clock the next morning Dick repaired to Mr. Rockwell’s +counting-room on Pearl Street. He found himself in front of a large and +handsome warehouse. The counting-room was on the lower floor. Our hero +entered, and found Mr. Rockwell sitting at a desk. No sooner did that +gentleman see him than he arose, and, advancing, shook Dick by the hand +in the most friendly manner. + +“My young friend,” he said, “you have done me so great service that I +wish to be of some service to you in return. Tell me about yourself, +and what plans or wishes you have formed for the future.” + +Dick frankly related his past history, and told Mr. Rockwell of his +desire to get into a store or counting-room, and of the failure of all +his applications thus far. The merchant listened attentively to Dick’s +statement, and, when he had finished, placed a sheet of paper before +him, and, handing him a pen, said, “Will you write your name on this +piece of paper?” + +Dick wrote in a free, bold hand, the name Richard Hunter. He had very +much improved in his penmanship, as has already been mentioned, and now +had no cause to be ashamed of it. + +Mr. Rockwell surveyed it approvingly. + +“How would you like to enter my counting-room as clerk, Richard?” he +asked. + +Dick was about to say “Bully,” when he recollected himself, and +answered, “Very much.” + +“I suppose you know something of arithmetic, do you not?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Then you may consider yourself engaged at a salary of ten dollars a +week. You may come next Monday morning.” + +“Ten dollars!” repeated Dick, thinking he must have misunderstood. + +“Yes; will that be sufficient?” + +“It’s more than I can earn,” said Dick, honestly. + +“Perhaps it is at first,” said Mr. Rockwell, smiling; “but I am willing +to pay you that. I will besides advance you as fast as your progress +will justify it.” + +Dick was so elated that he hardly restrained himself from some +demonstration which would have astonished the merchant; but he +exercised self-control, and only said, “I’ll try to serve you so +faithfully, sir, that you won’t repent having taken me into your +service.” + +“And I think you will succeed,” said Mr. Rockwell, encouragingly. “I +will not detain you any longer, for I have some important business to +attend to. I shall expect to see you on Monday morning.” + +Dick left the counting-room, hardly knowing whether he stood on his +head or his heels, so overjoyed was he at the sudden change in his +fortunes. Ten dollars a week was to him a fortune, and three times as +much as he had expected to obtain at first. Indeed he would have been +glad, only the day before, to get a place at three dollars a week. He +reflected that with the stock of clothes which he had now on hand, he +could save up at least half of it, and even then live better than he +had been accustomed to do; so that his little fund in the savings bank, +instead of being diminished, would be steadily increasing. Then he was +to be advanced if he deserved it. It was indeed a bright prospect for a +boy who, only a year before, could neither read nor write, and depended +for a night’s lodging upon the chance hospitality of an alley-way or +old wagon. Dick’s great ambition to “grow up ’spectable” seemed likely +to be accomplished after all. + +“I wish Fosdick was as well off as I am,” he thought generously. But he +determined to help his less fortunate friend, and assist him up the +ladder as he advanced himself. + +When Dick entered his room on Mott Street, he discovered that some one +else had been there before him, and two articles of wearing apparel had +disappeared. + +“By gracious!” he exclaimed; “somebody’s stole my Washington coat and +Napoleon pants. Maybe it’s an agent of Barnum’s, who expects to make a +fortun’ by exhibitin’ the valooable wardrobe of a gentleman of +fashion.” + +Dick did not shed many tears over his loss, as, in his present +circumstances, he never expected to have any further use for the +well-worn garments. It may be stated that he afterwards saw them +adorning the figure of Micky Maguire; but whether that estimable young +man stole them himself, he never ascertained. As to the loss, Dick was +rather pleased that it had occurred. It seemed to cut him off from the +old vagabond life which he hoped never to resume. Henceforward he meant +to press onward, and rise as high as possible. + +Although it was yet only noon, Dick did not go out again with his +brush. He felt that it was time to retire from business. He would leave +his share of the public patronage to other boys less fortunate than +himself. That evening Dick and Fosdick had a long conversation. Fosdick +rejoiced heartily in his friend’s success, and on his side had the +pleasant news to communicate that his pay had been advanced to six +dollars a week. + +“I think we can afford to leave Mott Street now,” he continued. “This +house isn’t as neat as it might be, and I shall like to live in a nicer +quarter of the city.” + +“All right,” said Dick. “We’ll hunt up a new room to-morrow. I shall +have plenty of time, having retired from business. I’ll try to get my +reg’lar customers to take Johnny Nolan in my place. That boy hasn’t any +enterprise. He needs some body to look out for him.” + +“You might give him your box and brush, too, Dick.” + +“No,” said Dick; “I’ll give him some new ones, but mine I want to keep, +to remind me of the hard times I’ve had, when I was an ignorant +boot-black, and never expected to be anything better.” + +“When, in short, you were ‘Ragged Dick.’ You must drop that name, and +think of yourself now as”— + +“Richard Hunter, Esq.,” said our hero, smiling. + +“A young gentleman on the way to fame and fortune,” added Fosdick. + + +Here ends the story of Ragged Dick. As Fosdick said, he is Ragged Dick +no longer. He has taken a step upward, and is determined to mount still +higher. There are fresh adventures in store for him, and for others who +have been introduced in these pages. Those who have felt interested in +his early life will find his history continued in a new volume, forming +the second of the series, to be called,— + +FAME AND FORTUNE; +OR, +THE PROGRESS OF RICHARD HUNTER. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAGGED DICK *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Ragged Dick<br /> +Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot-Blacks</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Horatio Alger</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: July 4, 2002 [eBook #5348]<br /> +[Most recently updated: July 20, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Andrew Sly</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAGGED DICK ***</div> + +<h1>Ragged Dick</h1> + +<h3>OR,</h3> + +<h3>STREET LIFE IN NEW YORK WITH THE BOOT-BLACKS.</h3> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Horatio Alger Jr.</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#pref01">PREFACE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I. RAGGED DICK IS INTRODUCED TO THE READER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II. JOHNNY NOLAN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III. DICK MAKES A PROPOSITION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV. DICK’S NEW SUIT</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V. CHATHAM STREET AND BROADWAY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI. UP BROADWAY TO MADISON SQUARE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII. THE POCKET-BOOK</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII. DICK’S EARLY HISTORY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX. A SCENE IN A THIRD AVENUE CAR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X. INTRODUCES A VICTIM OF MISPLACED CONFIDENCE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI. DICK AS A DETECTIVE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII. DICK HIRES A ROOM ON MOTT STREET</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII. MICKY MAGUIRE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV. A BATTLE AND A VICTORY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV. DICK SECURES A TUTOR</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI. THE FIRST LESSON</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII. DICK’S FIRST APPEARANCE IN SOCIETY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII. MICKY MAGUIRE’S SECOND DEFEAT</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX. FOSDICK CHANGES HIS BUSINESS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20">CHAPTER XX. NINE MONTHS LATER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI. DICK LOSES HIS BANK-BOOK</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII. TRACKING THE THIEF</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap23">CHAPTER XXIII. TRAVIS IS ARRESTED</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap24">CHAPTER XXIV. DICK RECEIVES A LETTER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap25">CHAPTER XXV. DICK WRITES HIS FIRST LETTER</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap26">CHAPTER XXVI. AN EXCITING ADVENTURE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap27">CHAPTER XXVII. CONCLUSION</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="center"> +To<br/> +Joseph W. Allen,<br/> +at whose suggestion this story<br/> +was undertaken,<br/> +it is<br/> +inscribed with friendly regard. +</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="pref01"></a>PREFACE</h2> + +<p> +“Ragged Dick” was contributed as a serial story to the pages of the +Schoolmate, a well-known juvenile magazine, during the year 1867. While in +course of publication, it was received with so many evidences of favor that it +has been rewritten and considerably enlarged, and is now presented to the +public as the first volume of a series intended to illustrate the life and +experiences of the friendless and vagrant children who are now numbered by +thousands in New York and other cities. +</p> + +<p> +Several characters in the story are sketched from life. The necessary +information has been gathered mainly from personal observation and +conversations with the boys themselves. The author is indebted also to the +excellent Superintendent of the Newsboys’ Lodging House, in Fulton +Street, for some facts of which he has been able to make use. Some anachronisms +may be noted. Wherever they occur, they have been admitted, as aiding in the +development of the story, and will probably be considered as of little +importance in an unpretending volume, which does not aspire to strict +historical accuracy. +</p> + +<p> +The author hopes that, while the volumes in this series may prove interesting +stories, they may also have the effect of enlisting the sympathies of his +readers in behalf of the unfortunate children whose life is described, and of +leading them to co-operate with the praiseworthy efforts now making by the +Children’s Aid Society and other organizations to ameliorate their +condition. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +New York, April, 1868 +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I.<br/> +RAGGED DICK IS INTRODUCED TO THE READER</h2> + +<p> +“Wake up there, youngster,” said a rough voice. +</p> + +<p> +Ragged Dick opened his eyes slowly, and stared stupidly in the face of the +speaker, but did not offer to get up. +</p> + +<p> +“Wake up, you young vagabond!” said the man a little impatiently; +“I suppose you’d lay there all day, if I hadn’t called +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What time is it?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Seven o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seven o’clock! I oughter’ve been up an hour ago. I know what +’twas made me so precious sleepy. I went to the Old Bowery last night, +and didn’t turn in till past twelve.” +</p> + +<p> +“You went to the Old Bowery? Where’d you get your money?” +asked the man, who was a porter in the employ of a firm doing business on +Spruce Street. “Made it by shines, in course. My guardian don’t +allow me no money for theatres, so I have to earn it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some boys get it easier than that,” said the porter significantly. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t catch me stealin’, if that’s what you +mean,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you ever steal, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, and I wouldn’t. Lots of boys does it, but I +wouldn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m glad to hear you say that. I believe there’s some +good in you, Dick, after all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m a rough customer!” said Dick. “But I +wouldn’t steal. It’s mean.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad you think so, Dick,” and the rough voice sounded +gentler than at first. “Have you got any money to buy your +breakfast?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but I’ll soon get some.” +</p> + +<p> +While this conversation had been going on, Dick had got up. His bedchamber had +been a wooden box half full of straw, on which the young boot-black had reposed +his weary limbs, and slept as soundly as if it had been a bed of down. He +dumped down into the straw without taking the trouble of undressing. +</p> + +<p> +Getting up too was an equally short process. He jumped out of the box, shook +himself, picked out one or two straws that had found their way into rents in +his clothes, and, drawing a well-worn cap over his uncombed locks, he was all +ready for the business of the day. +</p> + +<p> +Dick’s appearance as he stood beside the box was rather peculiar. His +pants were torn in several places, and had apparently belonged in the first +instance to a boy two sizes larger than himself. He wore a vest, all the +buttons of which were gone except two, out of which peeped a shirt which looked +as if it had been worn a month. To complete his costume he wore a coat too long +for him, dating back, if one might judge from its general appearance, to a +remote antiquity. +</p> + +<p> +Washing the face and hands is usually considered proper in commencing the day, +but Dick was above such refinement. He had no particular dislike to dirt, and +did not think it necessary to remove several dark streaks on his face and +hands. But in spite of his dirt and rags there was something about Dick that +was attractive. It was easy to see that if he had been clean and well dressed +he would have been decidedly good-looking. Some of his companions were sly, and +their faces inspired distrust; but Dick had a frank, straight-forward manner +that made him a favorite. +</p> + +<p> +Dick’s business hours had commenced. He had no office to open. His little +blacking-box was ready for use, and he looked sharply in the faces of all who +passed, addressing each with, “Shine yer boots, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“How much?” asked a gentleman on his way to his office. +</p> + +<p> +“Ten cents,” said Dick, dropping his box, and sinking upon his +knees on the sidewalk, flourishing his brush with the air of one skilled in his +profession. +</p> + +<p> +“Ten cents! Isn’t that a little steep?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you know ’taint all clear profit,” said Dick, who had +already set to work. “There’s the <i>blacking</i> costs something, +and I have to get a new brush pretty often.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you have a large rent too,” said the gentleman quizzically, +with a glance at a large hole in Dick’s coat. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Dick, always ready to joke; “I have to pay +such a big rent for my manshun up on Fifth Avenoo, that I can’t afford to +take less than ten cents a shine. I’ll give you a bully shine, +sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be quick about it, for I am in a hurry. So your house is on Fifth +Avenue, is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t anywhere else,” said Dick, and Dick spoke the truth +there. +</p> + +<p> +“What tailor do you patronize?” asked the gentleman, surveying +Dick’s attire. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like to go to the same one?” asked Dick, shrewdly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, no; it strikes me that he didn’t give you a very good +fit.” +</p> + +<p> +“This coat once belonged to General Washington,” said Dick, +comically. “He wore it all through the Revolution, and it got torn some, +’cause he fit so hard. When he died he told his widder to give it to some +smart young feller that hadn’t got none of his own; so she gave it to me. +But if you’d like it, sir, to remember General Washington by, I’ll +let you have it reasonable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, but I wouldn’t want to deprive you of it. And did your +pants come from General Washington too?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, they was a gift from Lewis Napoleon. Lewis had outgrown ’em +and sent ’em to me,—he’s bigger than me, and that’s why +they don’t fit.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems you have distinguished friends. Now, my lad, I suppose you +would like your money.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t have any objection,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe,” said the gentleman, examining his pocket-book, +“I haven’t got anything short of twenty-five cents. Have you got +any change?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a cent,” said Dick. “All my money’s invested in +the Erie Railroad.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s unfortunate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I get the money changed, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t wait; I’ve got to meet an appointment immediately. +I’ll hand you twenty-five cents, and you can leave the change at my +office any time during the day.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, sir. Where is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. 125 Fulton Street. Shall you remember?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir. What name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Greyson,—office on second floor.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, sir; I’ll bring it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder whether the little scamp will prove honest,” said Mr. +Greyson to himself, as he walked away. “If he does, I’ll give him +my custom regularly. If he don’t as is most likely, I shan’t mind +the loss of fifteen cents.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Greyson didn’t understand Dick. Our ragged hero wasn’t a model +boy in all respects. I am afraid he swore sometimes, and now and then he played +tricks upon unsophisticated boys from the country, or gave a wrong direction to +honest old gentlemen unused to the city. A clergyman in search of the Cooper +Institute he once directed to the Tombs Prison, and, following him unobserved, +was highly delighted when the unsuspicious stranger walked up the front steps +of the great stone building on Centre Street, and tried to obtain admission. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess he wouldn’t want to stay long if he did get in,” +thought Ragged Dick, hitching up his pants. “Leastways I shouldn’t. +They’re so precious glad to see you that they won’t let you go, but +board you gratooitous, and never send in no bills.” +</p> + +<p> +Another of Dick’s faults was his extravagance. Being always wide-awake +and ready for business, he earned enough to have supported him comfortably and +respectably. There were not a few young clerks who employed Dick from time to +time in his professional capacity, who scarcely earned as much as he, greatly +as their style and dress exceeded his. But Dick was careless of his earnings. +Where they went he could hardly have told himself. However much he managed to +earn during the day, all was generally spent before morning. He was fond of +going to the Old Bowery Theatre, and to Tony Pastor’s, and if he had any +money left afterwards, he would invite some of his friends in somewhere to have +an oyster-stew; so it seldom happened that he commenced the day with a penny. +</p> + +<p> +Then I am sorry to add that Dick had formed the habit of smoking. This cost him +considerable, for Dick was rather fastidious about his cigars, and +wouldn’t smoke the cheapest. Besides, having a liberal nature, he was +generally ready to treat his companions. But of course the expense was the +smallest objection. No boy of fourteen can smoke without being affected +injuriously. Men are frequently injured by smoking, and boys always. But large +numbers of the newsboys and boot-blacks form the habit. Exposed to the cold and +wet they find that it warms them up, and the self-indulgence grows upon them. +It is not uncommon to see a little boy, too young to be out of his +mother’s sight, smoking with all the apparent satisfaction of a veteran +smoker. +</p> + +<p> +There was another way in which Dick sometimes lost money. There was a noted +gambling-house on Baxter Street, which in the evening was sometimes crowded +with these juvenile gamesters, who staked their hard earnings, generally losing +of course, and refreshing themselves from time to time with a vile mixture of +liquor at two cents a glass. Sometimes Dick strayed in here, and played with +the rest. +</p> + +<p> +I have mentioned Dick’s faults and defects, because I want it understood, +to begin with, that I don’t consider him a model boy. But there were some +good points about him nevertheless. He was above doing anything mean or +dishonorable. He would not steal, or cheat, or impose upon younger boys, but +was frank and straight-forward, manly and self-reliant. His nature was a noble +one, and had saved him from all mean faults. I hope my young readers will like +him as I do, without being blind to his faults. Perhaps, although he was only a +boot-black, they may find something in him to imitate. +</p> + +<p> +And now, having fairly introduced Ragged Dick to my young readers, I must refer +them to the next chapter for his further adventures. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II.<br/> +JOHNNY NOLAN</h2> + +<p> +After Dick had finished polishing Mr. Greyson’s boots he was fortunate +enough to secure three other customers, two of them reporters in the Tribune +establishment, which occupies the corner of Spruce Street and Printing House +Square. +</p> + +<p> +When Dick had got through with his last customer the City Hall clock indicated +eight o’clock. He had been up an hour, and hard at work, and naturally +began to think of breakfast. He went up to the head of Spruce Street, and +turned into Nassau. Two blocks further, and he reached Ann Street. On this +street was a small, cheap restaurant, where for five cents Dick could get a cup +of coffee, and for ten cents more, a plate of beefsteak with a plate of bread +thrown in. These Dick ordered, and sat down at a table. +</p> + +<p> +It was a small apartment with a few plain tables unprovided with cloths, for +the class of customers who patronized it were not very particular. Our +hero’s breakfast was soon before him. Neither the coffee nor the steak +were as good as can be bought at Delmonico’s; but then it is very +doubtful whether, in the present state of his wardrobe, Dick would have been +received at that aristocratic restaurant, even if his means had admitted of +paying the high prices there charged. +</p> + +<p> +Dick had scarcely been served when he espied a boy about his own size standing +at the door, looking wistfully into the restaurant. This was Johnny Nolan, a +boy of fourteen, who was engaged in the same profession as Ragged Dick. His +wardrobe was in very much the same condition as Dick’s. +</p> + +<p> +“Had your breakfast, Johnny?” inquired Dick, cutting off a piece of +steak. +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, then. Here’s room for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I aint got no money,” said Johnny, looking a little enviously at +his more fortunate friend. +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you had any shines?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I had one, but I shan’t get any pay till to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you hungry?” +</p> + +<p> +“Try me, and see.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come in. I’ll stand treat this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Johnny Nolan was nowise slow to accept this invitation, and was soon seated +beside Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“What’ll you have, Johnny?” +</p> + +<p> +“Same as you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cup o’ coffee and beefsteak,” ordered Dick. +</p> + +<p> +These were promptly brought, and Johnny attacked them vigorously. +</p> + +<p> +Now, in the boot-blacking business, as well as in higher avocations, the same +rule prevails, that energy and industry are rewarded, and indolence suffers. +Dick was energetic and on the alert for business, but Johnny the reverse. The +consequence was that Dick earned probably three times as much as the other. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you like it?” asked Dick, surveying Johnny’s attacks +upon the steak with evident complacency. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s hunky.” +</p> + +<p> +I don’t believe “hunky” is to be found in either +Webster’s or Worcester’s big dictionary; but boys will readily +understand what it means. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you come here often?” asked Johnny. +</p> + +<p> +“Most every day. You’d better come too.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t afford it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you’d ought to, then,” said Dick. “What do you +do I’d like to know?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t get near as much as you, Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well you might if you tried. I keep my eyes open,—that’s the +way I get jobs. You’re lazy, that’s what’s the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +Johnny did not see fit to reply to this charge. Probably he felt the justice of +it, and preferred to proceed with the breakfast, which he enjoyed the more as +it cost him nothing. +</p> + +<p> +Breakfast over, Dick walked up to the desk, and settled the bill. Then, +followed by Johnny, he went out into the street. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you going, Johnny?” +</p> + +<p> +“Up to Mr. Taylor’s, on Spruce Street, to see if he don’t +want a shine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you work for him reg’lar?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Him and his partner wants a shine most every day. Where are you +goin’?” +</p> + +<p> +“Down front of the Astor House. I guess I’ll find some customers +there.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment Johnny started, and, dodging into an entry way, hid behind the +door, considerably to Dick’s surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter now?” asked our hero. +</p> + +<p> +“Has he gone?” asked Johnny, his voice betraying anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“Who gone, I’d like to know?” +</p> + +<p> +“That man in the brown coat.” +</p> + +<p> +“What of him. You aint scared of him, are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he got me a place once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ever so far off.” +</p> + +<p> +“What if he did?” +</p> + +<p> +“I ran away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t you like it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I had to get up too early. It was on a farm, and I had to get up at +five to take care of the cows. I like New York best.” +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t they give you enough to eat?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, plenty.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you had a good bed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you’d better have stayed. You don’t get either of them +here. Where’d you sleep last night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Up an alley in an old wagon.” +</p> + +<p> +“You had a better bed than that in the country, didn’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it was as soft as—as cotton.” +</p> + +<p> +Johnny had once slept on a bale of cotton, the recollection supplying him with +a comparison. +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t you stay?” +</p> + +<p> +“I felt lonely,” said Johnny. +</p> + +<p> +Johnny could not exactly explain his feelings, but it is often the case that +the young vagabond of the streets, though his food is uncertain, and his bed +may be any old wagon or barrel that he is lucky enough to find unoccupied when +night sets in, gets so attached to his precarious but independent mode of life, +that he feels discontented in any other. He is accustomed to the noise and +bustle and ever-varied life of the streets, and in the quiet scenes of the +country misses the excitement in the midst of which he has always dwelt. +</p> + +<p> +Johnny had but one tie to bind him to the city. He had a father living, but he +might as well have been without one. Mr. Nolan was a confirmed drunkard, and +spent the greater part of his wages for liquor. His potations made him ugly, +and inflamed a temper never very sweet, working him up sometimes to such a +pitch of rage that Johnny’s life was in danger. Some months before, he +had thrown a flat-iron at his son’s head with such terrific force that +unless Johnny had dodged he would not have lived long enough to obtain a place +in our story. He fled the house, and from that time had not dared to re-enter +it. Somebody had given him a brush and box of blacking, and he had set up in +business on his own account. But he had not energy enough to succeed, as has +already been stated, and I am afraid the poor boy had met with many hardships, +and suffered more than once from cold and hunger. Dick had befriended him more +than once, and often given him a breakfast or dinner, as the case might be. +</p> + +<p> +“How’d you get away?” asked Dick, with some curiosity. +“Did you walk?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I rode on the cars.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where’d you get your money? I hope you didn’t steal +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t have none.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you do, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I got up about three o’clock, and walked to Albany.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s that?” asked Dick, whose ideas on the subject of +geography were rather vague. +</p> + +<p> +“Up the river.” +</p> + +<p> +“How far?” +</p> + +<p> +“About a thousand miles,” said Johnny, whose conceptions of +distance were equally vague. +</p> + +<p> +“Go ahead. What did you do then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hid on top of a freight car, and came all the way without their seeing +me.* That man in the brown coat was the man that got me the place, and +I’m afraid he’d want to send me back.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* A fact. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Dick, reflectively, “I dunno as I’d like +to live in the country. I couldn’t go to Tony Pastor’s or the Old +Bowery. There wouldn’t be no place to spend my evenings. But I say, +it’s tough in winter, Johnny, ’specially when your overcoat’s +at the tailor’s, an’ likely to stay there.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s so, Dick. But I must be goin’, or Mr. Taylor’ll +get somebody else to shine his boots.” +</p> + +<p> +Johnny walked back to Nassau Street, while Dick kept on his way to Broadway. +</p> + +<p> +“That boy,” soliloquized Dick, as Johnny took his departure, +“aint got no ambition. I’ll bet he won’t get five shines +to-day. I’m glad I aint like him. I couldn’t go to the theatre, nor +buy no cigars, nor get half as much as I wanted to eat.—Shine yer boots, +sir?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick always had an eye to business, and this remark was addressed to a young +man, dressed in a stylish manner, who was swinging a jaunty cane. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve had my boots blacked once already this morning, but this +confounded mud has spoiled the shine.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll make ’em all right, sir, in a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go ahead, then.” +</p> + +<p> +The boots were soon polished in Dick’s best style, which proved very +satisfactory, our hero being a proficient in the art. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t got any change,” said the young man, fumbling in +his pocket, “but here’s a bill you may run somewhere and get +changed. I’ll pay you five cents extra for your trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +He handed Dick a two-dollar bill, which our hero took into a store close by. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you please change that, sir?” said Dick, walking up to the +counter. +</p> + +<p> +The salesman to whom he proffered it took the bill, and, slightly glancing at +it, exclaimed angrily, “Be off, you young vagabond, or I’ll have +you arrested.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the row?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve offered me a counterfeit bill.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know it,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t tell me. Be off, or I’ll have you arrested.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III.<br/> +DICK MAKES A PROPOSITION</h2> + +<p> +Though Dick was somewhat startled at discovering that the bill he had offered +was counterfeit, he stood his ground bravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Clear out of this shop, you young vagabond,” repeated the clerk. +</p> + +<p> +“Then give me back my bill.” +</p> + +<p> +“That you may pass it again? No, sir, I shall do no such thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“It doesn’t belong to me,” said Dick. “A gentleman that +owes me for a shine gave it to me to change.” +</p> + +<p> +“A likely story,” said the clerk; but he seemed a little uneasy. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go and call him,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +He went out, and found his late customer standing on the Astor House steps. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, youngster, have you brought back my change? You were a precious +long time about it. I began to think you had cleared out with the money.” +</p> + +<p> +“That aint my style,” said Dick, proudly. +</p> + +<p> +“Then where’s the change?” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t got it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s the bill then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t got that either.” +</p> + +<p> +“You young rascal!” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold on a minute, mister,” said Dick, “and I’ll tell +you all about it. The man what took the bill said it wasn’t good, and +kept it.” +</p> + +<p> +“The bill was perfectly good. So he kept it, did he? I’ll go with +you to the store, and see whether he won’t give it back to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick led the way, and the gentleman followed him into the store. At the +reappearance of Dick in such company, the clerk flushed a little, and looked +nervous. He fancied that he could browbeat a ragged boot-black, but with a +gentleman he saw that it would be a different matter. He did not seem to notice +the newcomers, but began to replace some goods on the shelves. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said the young man, “point out the clerk that has my +money.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s him,” said Dick, pointing out the clerk. +</p> + +<p> +The gentleman walked up to the counter. +</p> + +<p> +“I will trouble you,” he said a little haughtily, “for a bill +which that boy offered you, and which you still hold in your possession.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was a bad bill,” said the clerk, his cheek flushing, and his +manner nervous. +</p> + +<p> +“It was no such thing. I require you to produce it, and let the matter be +decided.” +</p> + +<p> +The clerk fumbled in his vest-pocket, and drew out a bad-looking bill. +</p> + +<p> +“This is a bad bill, but it is not the one I gave the boy.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the one he gave me.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man looked doubtful. +</p> + +<p> +“Boy,” he said to Dick, “is this the bill you gave to be +changed?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it isn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“You lie, you young rascal!” exclaimed the clerk, who began to find +himself in a tight place, and could not see the way out. +</p> + +<p> +This scene naturally attracted the attention of all in the store, and the +proprietor walked up from the lower end, where he had been busy. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s all this, Mr. Hatch?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“That boy,” said the clerk, “came in and asked change for a +bad bill. I kept the bill, and told him to clear out. Now he wants it again to +pass on somebody else.” +</p> + +<p> +“Show the bill.” +</p> + +<p> +The merchant looked at it. “Yes, that’s a bad bill,” he said. +“There is no doubt about that.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it is not the one the boy offered,” said Dick’s patron. +“It is one of the same denomination, but on a different bank.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember what bank it was on?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was on the Merchants’ Bank of Boston.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps the boy kept it and offered the other.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may search me if you want to,” said Dick, indignantly. +</p> + +<p> +“He doesn’t look as if he was likely to have any extra bills. I +suspect that your clerk pocketed the good bill, and has substituted the +counterfeit note. It is a nice little scheme of his for making money.” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t seen any bill on the Merchants’ Bank,” said +the clerk, doggedly. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better feel in your pockets.” +</p> + +<p> +“This matter must be investigated,” said the merchant, firmly. +“If you have the bill, produce it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t got it,” said the clerk; but he looked guilty +notwithstanding. +</p> + +<p> +“I demand that he be searched,” said Dick’s patron. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you I haven’t got it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I send for a police officer, Mr. Hatch, or will you allow yourself +to be searched quietly?” said the merchant. +</p> + +<p> +Alarmed at the threat implied in these words, the clerk put his hand into his +vest-pocket, and drew out a two-dollar bill on the Merchants’ Bank. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this your note?” asked the shopkeeper, showing it to the young +man. +</p> + +<p> +“It is.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must have made a mistake,” faltered the clerk. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall not give you a chance to make such another mistake in my +employ,” said the merchant sternly. “You may go up to the desk and +ask for what wages are due you. I shall have no further occasion for your +services.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, youngster,” said Dick’s patron, as they went out of the +store, after he had finally got the bill changed. “I must pay you +something extra for your trouble. Here’s fifty cents.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, sir,” said Dick. “You’re very kind. +Don’t you want some more bills changed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not to-day,” said he with a smile. “It’s too +expensive.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m in luck,” thought our hero complacently. “I guess +I’ll go to Barnum’s to-night, and see the bearded lady, the +eight-foot giant, the two-foot dwarf, and the other curiosities, too numerous +to mention.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick shouldered his box and walked up as far as the Astor House. He took his +station on the sidewalk, and began to look about him. +</p> + +<p> +Just behind him were two persons,—one, a gentleman of fifty; the other, a +boy of thirteen or fourteen. They were speaking together, and Dick had no +difficulty in hearing what was said. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry, Frank, that I can’t go about, and show you some of the +sights of New York, but I shall be full of business to-day. It is your first +visit to the city, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a good deal worth seeing here. But I’m afraid +you’ll have to wait to next time. You can go out and walk by yourself, +but don’t venture too far, or you will get lost.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank looked disappointed. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish Tom Miles knew I was here,” he said. “He would go +around with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where does he live?” +</p> + +<p> +“Somewhere up town, I believe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, unfortunately, he is not available. If you would rather go with me +than stay here, you can, but as I shall be most of the time in +merchants’-counting-rooms, I am afraid it would not be very +interesting.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” said Frank, after a little hesitation, “that I +will go off by myself. I won’t go very far, and if I lose my way, I will +inquire for the Astor House.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, anybody will direct you here. Very well, Frank, I am sorry I +can’t do better for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, never mind, uncle, I shall be amused in walking around, and looking +at the shop-windows. There will be a great deal to see.” +</p> + +<p> +Now Dick had listened to all this conversation. Being an enterprising young +man, he thought he saw a chance for a speculation, and determined to avail +himself of it. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly he stepped up to the two just as Frank’s uncle was about +leaving, and said, “I know all about the city, sir; I’ll show him +around, if you want me to.” +</p> + +<p> +The gentleman looked a little curiously at the ragged figure before him. +</p> + +<p> +“So you are a city boy, are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Dick, “I’ve lived here ever since I +was a baby.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you know all about the public buildings, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the Central Park?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir. I know my way all round.” +</p> + +<p> +The gentleman looked thoughtful. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what to say, Frank,” he remarked after a while. +“It is rather a novel proposal. He isn’t exactly the sort of guide +I would have picked out for you. Still he looks honest. He has an open face, +and I think can be depended upon.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish he wasn’t so ragged and dirty,” said Frank, who felt +a little shy about being seen with such a companion. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid you haven’t washed your face this morning,” +said Mr. Whitney, for that was the gentleman’s name. +</p> + +<p> +“They didn’t have no wash-bowls at the hotel where I +stopped,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“What hotel did you stop at?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Box Hotel.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Box Hotel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, I slept in a box on Spruce Street.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank surveyed Dick curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“How did you like it?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I slept bully.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose it had rained.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’d have wet my best clothes,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Are these all the clothes you have?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Whitney spoke a few words to Frank, who seemed pleased with the suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +“Follow me, my lad,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Dick in some surprise obeyed orders, following Mr. Whitney and Frank into the +hotel, past the office, to the foot of the staircase. Here a servant of the +hotel stopped Dick, but Mr. Whitney explained that he had something for him to +do, and he was allowed to proceed. +</p> + +<p> +They entered a long entry, and finally paused before a door. This being opened +a pleasant chamber was disclosed. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, my lad,” said Mr. Whitney. +</p> + +<p> +Dick and Frank entered. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br/> +DICK’S NEW SUIT</h2> + +<p> +“Now,” said Mr. Whitney to Dick, “my nephew here is on his +way to a boarding-school. He has a suit of clothes in his trunk about half +worn. He is willing to give them to you. I think they will look better than +those you have on.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick was so astonished that he hardly knew what to say. Presents were something +that he knew very little about, never having received any to his knowledge. +That so large a gift should be made to him by a stranger seemed very wonderful. +</p> + +<p> +The clothes were brought out, and turned out to be a neat gray suit. +</p> + +<p> +“Before you put them on, my lad, you must wash yourself. Clean clothes +and a dirty skin don’t go very well together. Frank, you may attend to +him. I am obliged to go at once. Have you got as much money as you +require?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, uncle.” +</p> + +<p> +“One more word, my lad,” said Mr. Whitney, addressing Dick; +“I may be rash in trusting a boy of whom I know nothing, but I like your +looks, and I think you will prove a proper guide for my nephew.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I will, sir,” said Dick, earnestly. “Honor +bright!” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well. A pleasant time to you.” +</p> + +<p> +The process of cleansing commenced. To tell the truth Dick needed it, and the +sensation of cleanliness he found both new and pleasant. Frank added to his +gift a shirt, stockings, and an old pair of shoes. “I am sorry I +haven’t any cap,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got one,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t so new as it might be,” said Frank, surveying an +old felt hat, which had once been black, but was now dingy, with a large hole +in the top and a portion of the rim torn off. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick; “my grandfather used to wear it when he was +a boy, and I’ve kep’ it ever since out of respect for his memory. +But I’ll get a new one now. I can buy one cheap on Chatham Street.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that near here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only five minutes’ walk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we can get one on the way.” +</p> + +<p> +When Dick was dressed in his new attire, with his face and hands clean, and his +hair brushed, it was difficult to imagine that he was the same boy. +</p> + +<p> +He now looked quite handsome, and might readily have been taken for a young +gentleman, except that his hands were red and grimy. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at yourself,” said Frank, leading him before the mirror. +</p> + +<p> +“By gracious!” said Dick, starting back in astonishment, +“that isn’t me, is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you know yourself?” asked Frank, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“It reminds me of Cinderella,” said Dick, “when she was +changed into a fairy princess. I see it one night at Barnum’s. +What’ll Johnny Nolan say when he sees me? He won’t dare to speak to +such a young swell as I be now. Aint it rich?” and Dick burst into a loud +laugh. His fancy was tickled by the anticipation of his friend’s +surprise. Then the thought of the valuable gifts he had received occurred to +him, and he looked gratefully at Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a brick,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“A what?” +</p> + +<p> +“A brick! You’re a jolly good fellow to give me such a +present.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re quite welcome, Dick,” said Frank, kindly. +“I’m better off than you are, and I can spare the clothes just as +well as not. You must have a new hat though. But that we can get when we go +out. The old clothes you can make into a bundle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute till I get my handkercher,” and Dick pulled from the +pocket of the pants a dirty rag, which might have been white once, though it +did not look like it, and had apparently once formed a part of a sheet or +shirt. +</p> + +<p> +“You mustn’t carry that,” said Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“But I’ve got a cold,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t mean you to go without a handkerchief. I’ll give +you one.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank opened his trunk and pulled out two, which he gave to Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if I aint dreamin’,” said Dick, once more surveying +himself doubtfully in the glass. “I’m afraid I’m +dreamin’, and shall wake up in a barrel, as I did night afore +last.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I pinch you so you can wake here?” asked Frank, playfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick, seriously, “I wish you would.” +</p> + +<p> +He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, and Frank pinched him pretty hard, so +that Dick winced. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I guess I’m awake,” said Dick; “you’ve got +a pair of nippers, you have. But what shall I do with my brush and +blacking?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“You can leave them here till we come back,” said Frank. +“They will be safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold on a minute,” said Dick, surveying Frank’s boots with a +professional eye, “you aint got a good shine on them boots. I’ll +make ’em shine so you can see your face in ’em.” +</p> + +<p> +And he was as good as his word. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Frank; “now you had better brush your own +shoes.” +</p> + +<p> +This had not occurred to Dick, for in general the professional boot-black +considers his blacking too valuable to expend on his own shoes or boots, if he +is fortunate enough to possess a pair. +</p> + +<p> +The two boys now went downstairs together. They met the same servant who had +spoken to Dick a few minutes before, but there was no recognition. +</p> + +<p> +“He don’t know me,” said Dick. “He thinks I’m a +young swell like you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s a swell?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, a feller that wears nobby clothes like you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you, too, Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick, “who’d ever have thought as I should +have turned into a swell?” +</p> + +<p> +They had now got out on Broadway, and were slowly walking along the west side +by the Park, when who should Dick see in front of him, but Johnny Nolan? +</p> + +<p> +Instantly Dick was seized with a fancy for witnessing Johnny’s amazement +at his change in appearance. He stole up behind him, and struck him on the +back. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo, Johnny, how many shines have you had?” +</p> + +<p> +Johnny turned round expecting to see Dick, whose voice he recognized, but his +astonished eyes rested on a nicely dressed boy (the hat alone excepted) who +looked indeed like Dick, but so transformed in dress that it was difficult to +be sure of his identity. +</p> + +<p> +“What luck, Johnny?” repeated Dick. +</p> + +<p> +Johnny surveyed him from head to foot in great bewilderment. +</p> + +<p> +“Who be you?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s a good one,” laughed Dick; “so you +don’t know Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where’d you get all them clothes?” asked Johnny. “Have +you been stealin’?” +</p> + +<p> +“Say that again, and I’ll lick you. No, I’ve lent my clothes +to a young feller as was goin’ to a party, and didn’t have none fit +to wear, and so I put on my second-best for a change.” +</p> + +<p> +Without deigning any further explanation, Dick went off, followed by the +astonished gaze of Johnny Nolan, who could not quite make up his mind whether +the neat-looking boy he had been talking with was really Ragged Dick or not. +</p> + +<p> +In order to reach Chatham Street it was necessary to cross Broadway. This was +easier proposed than done. There is always such a throng of omnibuses, drays, +carriages, and vehicles of all kinds in the neighborhood of the Astor House, +that the crossing is formidable to one who is not used to it. Dick made nothing +of it, dodging in and out among the horses and wagons with perfect +self-possession. Reaching the opposite sidewalk, he looked back, and found that +Frank had retreated in dismay, and that the width of the street was between +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Come across!” called out Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see any chance,” said Frank, looking anxiously at +the prospect before him. “I’m afraid of being run over.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you are, you can sue ’em for damages,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +Finally Frank got safely over after several narrow escapes, as he considered +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it always so crowded?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“A good deal worse sometimes,” said Dick. “I knowed a young +man once who waited six hours for a chance to cross, and at last got run over +by an omnibus, leaving a widder and a large family of orphan children. His +widder, a beautiful young woman, was obliged to start a peanut and apple stand. +There she is now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick pointed to a hideous old woman, of large proportions, wearing a bonnet of +immense size, who presided over an apple-stand close by. +</p> + +<p> +Frank laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“If that is the case,” he said, “I think I will patronize +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave it to me,” said Dick, winking. +</p> + +<p> +He advanced gravely to the apple-stand, and said, “Old lady, have you +paid your taxes?” +</p> + +<p> +The astonished woman opened her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m a gov’ment officer,” said Dick, “sent by the +mayor to collect your taxes. I’ll take it in apples just to oblige. That +big red one will about pay what you’re owin’ to the +gov’ment.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know nothing about no taxes,” said the old woman, in +bewilderment. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said Dick, “I’ll let you off this time. Give us +two of your best apples, and my friend here, the President of the Common +Council, will pay you.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank smiling, paid three cents apiece for the apples, and they sauntered on, +Dick remarking, “If these apples aint good, old lady, we’ll return +’em, and get our money back.” This would have been rather difficult +in his case, as the apple was already half consumed. +</p> + +<p> +Chatham Street, where they wished to go, being on the East side, the two boys +crossed the Park. This is an enclosure of about ten acres, which years ago was +covered with a green sward, but is now a great thoroughfare for pedestrians and +contains several important public buildings. Dick pointed out the City Hall, +the Hall of Records, and the Rotunda. The former is a white building of large +size, and surmounted by a cupola. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s where the mayor’s office is,” said Dick. +“Him and me are very good friends. I once blacked his boots by +partic’lar appointment. That’s the way I pay my city taxes.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V.<br/> +CHATHAM STREET AND BROADWAY</h2> + +<p> +They were soon in Chatham Street, walking between rows of ready-made clothing +shops, many of which had half their stock in trade exposed on the sidewalk. The +proprietors of these establishments stood at the doors, watching attentively +the passersby, extending urgent invitations to any who even glanced at the +goods to enter. +</p> + +<p> +“Walk in, young gentlemen,” said a stout man, at the entrance of +one shop. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I thank you,” replied Dick, “as the fly said to the +spider.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’re selling off at less than cost.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you be. That’s where you makes your money,” said +Dick. “There aint nobody of any enterprise that pretends to make any +profit on his goods.” +</p> + +<p> +The Chatham Street trader looked after our hero as if he didn’t quite +comprehend him; but Dick, without waiting for a reply, passed on with his +companion. +</p> + +<p> +In some of the shops auctions seemed to be going on. +</p> + +<p> +“I am only offered two dollars, gentlemen, for this elegant pair of +doeskin pants, made of the very best of cloth. It’s a frightful +sacrifice. Who’ll give an eighth? Thank you, sir. Only seventeen +shillings! Why the cloth cost more by the yard!” +</p> + +<p> +This speaker was standing on a little platform haranguing to three men, holding +in his hand meanwhile a pair of pants very loose in the legs, and presenting a +cheap Bowery look. +</p> + +<p> +Frank and Dick paused before the shop door, and finally saw them knocked down +to rather a verdant-looking individual at three dollars. +</p> + +<p> +“Clothes seem to be pretty cheap here,” said Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but Baxter Street is the cheapest place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Johnny Nolan got a whole rig-out there last week, for a +dollar,—coat, cap, vest, pants, and shoes. They was very good measure, +too, like my best clothes that I took off to oblige you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall know where to come for clothes next time,” said Frank, +laughing. “I had no idea the city was so much cheaper than the country. I +suppose the Baxter Street tailors are fashionable?” +</p> + +<p> +“In course they are. Me and Horace Greeley always go there for clothes. +When Horace gets a new suit, I always have one made just like it; but I +can’t go the white hat. It aint becomin’ to my style of +beauty.” +</p> + +<p> +A little farther on a man was standing out on the sidewalk, distributing small +printed handbills. One was handed to Frank, which he read as follows,— +</p> + +<p> +“GRAND CLOSING-OUT SALE!—A variety of Beautiful and Costly Articles +for Sale, at a Dollar apiece. Unparalleled Inducements! Walk in, +Gentlemen!” +</p> + +<p> +“Whereabouts is this sale?” asked Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“In here, young gentlemen,” said a black-whiskered individual, who +appeared suddenly on the scene. “Walk in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we go in, Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a swindlin’ shop,” said Dick, in a low voice. +“I’ve been there. That man’s a regular cheat. He’s seen +me before, but he don’t know me coz of my clothes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Step in and see the articles,” said the man, persuasively. +“You needn’t buy, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are all the articles worth more’n a dollar?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the other, “and some worth a great deal +more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Such as what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there’s a silver pitcher worth twenty dollars.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you sell it for a dollar. That’s very kind of you,” said +Dick, innocently. +</p> + +<p> +“Walk in, and you’ll understand it.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I guess not,” said Dick. “My servants is so dishonest +that I wouldn’t like to trust ’em with a silver pitcher. Come +along, Frank. I hope you’ll succeed in your charitable enterprise of +supplyin’ the public with silver pitchers at nineteen dollars less than +they are worth.” +</p> + +<p> +“How does he manage, Dick?” asked Frank, as they went on. +</p> + +<p> +“All his articles are numbered, and he makes you pay a dollar, and then +shakes some dice, and whatever the figgers come to, is the number of the +article you draw. Most of ’em aint worth sixpence.” +</p> + +<p> +A hat and cap store being close at hand, Dick and Frank went in. For +seventy-five cents, which Frank insisted on paying, Dick succeeded in getting +quite a neat-looking cap, which corresponded much better with his appearance +than the one he had on. The last, not being considered worth keeping, Dick +dropped on the sidewalk, from which, on looking back, he saw it picked up by a +brother boot-black who appeared to consider it better than his own. +</p> + +<p> +They retraced their steps and went up Chambers Street to Broadway. At the +corner of Broadway and Chambers Street is a large white marble warehouse, which +attracted Frank’s attention. +</p> + +<p> +“What building is that?” he asked, with interest. +</p> + +<p> +“That belongs to my friend A. T. Stewart,” said Dick. +“It’s the biggest store on Broadway.* If I ever retire from +boot-blackin’, and go into mercantile pursuits, I may buy him out, or +build another store that’ll take the shine off this one.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Mr. Stewart’s Tenth Street store was not open at the time Dick spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Were you ever in the store?” asked Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick; “but I’m intimate with one of +Stewart’s partners. He is a cash boy, and does nothing but take money all +day.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very agreeable employment,” said Frank, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick, “I’d like to be in it.” +</p> + +<p> +The boys crossed to the West side of Broadway, and walked slowly up the street. +To Frank it was a very interesting spectacle. Accustomed to the quiet of the +country, there was something fascinating in the crowds of people thronging the +sidewalks, and the great variety of vehicles constantly passing and repassing +in the street. Then again the shop-windows with their multifarious contents +interested and amused him, and he was constantly checking Dick to look in at +some well-stocked window. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see how so many shopkeepers can find people enough to buy +of them,” he said. “We haven’t got but two stores in our +village, and Broadway seems to be full of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick; “and its pretty much the same in the +avenoos, ’specially the Third, Sixth, and Eighth avenoos. The Bowery, +too, is a great place for shoppin’. There everybody sells cheaper’n +anybody else, and nobody pretends to make no profit on their goods.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Barnum’s Museum?” asked Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s down nearly opposite the Astor House,” said Dick. +“Didn’t you see a great building with lots of flags?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s Barnum’s.* That’s where the Happy Family +live, and the lions, and bears, and curiosities generally. It’s a tip-top +place. Haven’t you ever been there? It’s most as good as the Old +Bowery, only the plays isn’t quite so excitin’.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Since destroyed by fire, and rebuilt farther up Broadway, and again burned +down in February. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go if I get time,” said Frank. “There is a boy at +home who came to New York a month ago, and went to Barnum’s, and has been +talking about it ever since, so I suppose it must be worth seeing.” +</p> + +<p> +“They’ve got a great play at the Old Bowery now,” pursued +Dick. “’Tis called the ‘Demon of the Danube.’ The Demon +falls in love with a young woman, and drags her by the hair up to the top of a +steep rock where his castle stands.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a queer way of showing his love,” said Frank, +laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“She didn’t want to go with him, you know, but was in love with +another chap. When he heard about his girl bein’ carried off, he felt +awful, and swore an oath not to rest till he had got her free. Well, at last he +got into the castle by some underground passage, and he and the Demon had a +fight. Oh, it was bully seein’ ’em roll round on the stage, +cuttin’ and slashin’ at each other.” +</p> + +<p> +“And which got the best of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“At first the Demon seemed to be ahead, but at last the young Baron got +him down, and struck a dagger into his heart, sayin’, ‘Die, false +and perjured villain! The dogs shall feast upon thy carcass!’ and then +the Demon give an awful howl and died. Then the Baron seized his body, and +threw it over the precipice.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me the actor who plays the Demon ought to get extra pay, if +he has to be treated that way.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s so,” said Dick; “but I guess he’s used to +it. It seems to agree with his constitution.” +</p> + +<p> +“What building is that?” asked Frank, pointing to a structure +several rods back from the street, with a large yard in front. It was an +unusual sight for Broadway, all the other buildings in that neighborhood being +even with the street. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the New York Hospital,” said Dick. “They’re a +rich institution, and take care of sick people on very reasonable terms.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you ever go in there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick; “there was a friend of mine, Johnny Mullen, +he was a newsboy, got run over by a omnibus as he was crossin’ Broadway +down near Park Place. He was carried to the Hospital, and me and some of his +friends paid his board while he was there. It was only three dollars a week, +which was very cheap, considerin’ all the care they took of him. I got +leave to come and see him while he was here. Everything looked so nice and +comfortable, that I thought a little of coaxin’ a omnibus driver to run +over me, so I might go there too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did your friend have to have his leg cut off?” asked Frank, +interested. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick; “though there was a young student there that +was very anxious to have it cut off; but it wasn’t done, and Johnny is +around the streets as well as ever.” +</p> + +<p> +While this conversation was going on they reached No. 365, at the corner of +Franklin Street.* +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Now the office of the Merchants’ Union Express Company. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s Taylor’s Saloon,” said Dick. “When I come +into a fortun’ I shall take my meals there reg’lar.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard of it very often,” said Frank. “It is said to +be very elegant. Suppose we go in and take an ice-cream. It will give us a +chance to see it to better advantage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Dick; “I think that’s the most +agreeable way of seein’ the place myself.” +</p> + +<p> +The boys entered, and found themselves in a spacious and elegant saloon, +resplendent with gilding, and adorned on all sides by costly mirrors. They sat +down to a small table with a marble top, and Frank gave the order. +</p> + +<p> +“It reminds me of Aladdin’s palace,” said Frank, looking +about him. +</p> + +<p> +“Does it?” said Dick; “he must have had plenty of +money.” +</p> + +<p> +“He had an old lamp, which he had only to rub, when the Slave of the Lamp +would appear, and do whatever he wanted.” +</p> + +<p> +“That must have been a valooable lamp. I’d be willin’ to give +all my Erie shares for it.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a tall, gaunt individual at the next table, who apparently heard this +last remark of Dick’s. Turning towards our hero, he said, “May I +inquire, young man, whether you are largely interested in this Erie +Railroad?” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t got no property except what’s invested in +Erie,” said Dick, with a comical side-glance at Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed! I suppose the investment was made by your guardian.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick; “I manage my property myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I presume your dividends have not been large?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, no,” said Dick; “you’re about right there. They +haven’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“As I supposed. It’s poor stock. Now, my young friend, I can +recommend a much better investment, which will yield you a large annual income. +I am agent of the Excelsior Copper Mining Company, which possesses one of the +most productive mines in the world. It’s sure to yield fifty per cent. on +the investment. Now, all you have to do is to sell out your Erie shares, and +invest in our stock, and I’ll insure you a fortune in three years. How +many shares did you say you had?” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t say, that I remember,” said Dick. “Your offer +is very kind and obligin’, and as soon as I get time I’ll see about +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you will,” said the stranger. “Permit me to give you +my card. ‘Samuel Snap, No. — Wall Street.’ I shall be most +happy to receive a call from you, and exhibit the maps of our mine. I should be +glad to have you mention the matter also to your friends. I am confident you +could do no greater service than to induce them to embark in our +enterprise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +Here the stranger left the table, and walked up to the desk to settle his bill. +</p> + +<p> +“You see what it is to be a man of fortun’, Frank,” said +Dick, “and wear good clothes. I wonder what that chap’ll say when +he sees me blackin’ boots to-morrow in the street?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you earn your money more honorably than he does, after +all,” said Frank. “Some of these mining companies are nothing but +swindles, got up to cheat people out of their money.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s welcome to all he gets out of me,” said Dick. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br/> +UP BROADWAY TO MADISON SQUARE</h2> + +<p> +As the boys pursued their way up Broadway, Dick pointed out the prominent +hotels and places of amusement. Frank was particularly struck with the imposing +fronts of the St. Nicholas and Metropolitan Hotels, the former of white marble, +the latter of a subdued brown hue, but not less elegant in its internal +appointments. He was not surprised to be informed that each of these splendid +structures cost with the furnishing not far from a million dollars. +</p> + +<p> +At Eighth Street Dick turned to the right, and pointed out the Clinton Hall +Building now occupied by the Mercantile Library, comprising at that time over +fifty thousand volumes.* +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Now not far from one hundred thousand. +</p> + +<p> +A little farther on they came to a large building standing by itself just at +the opening of Third and Fourth Avenues, and with one side on each. +</p> + +<p> +“What is that building?” asked Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the Cooper Institute,” said Dick; “built by Mr. +Cooper, a particular friend of mine. Me and Peter Cooper used to go to school +together.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is there inside?” asked Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a hall for public meetin’s and lectures in the +basement, and a readin’ room and a picture gallery up above,” said +Dick. +</p> + +<p> +Directly opposite Cooper Institute, Frank saw a very large building of brick, +covering about an acre of ground. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that a hotel?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick; “that’s the Bible House. It’s +the place where they make Bibles. I was in there once,—saw a big pile of +’em.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you ever read the Bible?” asked Frank, who had some idea of +the neglected state of Dick’s education. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick; “I’ve heard it’s a good book, +but I never read one. I aint much on readin’. It makes my head +ache.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you can’t read very fast.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can read the little words pretty well, but the big ones is what stick +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I lived in the city, you might come every evening to me, and I would +teach you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you take so much trouble about me?” asked Dick, earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly; I should like to see you getting on. There isn’t much +chance of that if you don’t know how to read and write.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a good feller,” said Dick, gratefully. “I wish +you did live in New York. I’d like to know somethin’. Whereabouts +do you live?” +</p> + +<p> +“About fifty miles off, in a town on the left bank of the Hudson. I wish +you’d come up and see me sometime. I would like to have you come and stop +two or three days.” +</p> + +<p> +“Honor bright?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean it?” asked Dick, incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I do. Why shouldn’t I?” +</p> + +<p> +“What would your folks say if they knowed you asked a boot-black to visit +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are none the worse for being a boot-black, Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +“I aint used to genteel society,” said Dick. “I +shouldn’t know how to behave.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I could show you. You won’t be a boot-black all your life, +you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick; “I’m goin’ to knock off when I +get to be ninety.” +</p> + +<p> +“Before that, I hope,” said Frank, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“I really wish I could get somethin’ else to do,” said Dick, +soberly. “I’d like to be a office boy, and learn business, and grow +up ’spectable.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you try, and see if you can’t get a place, +Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who’d take Ragged Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“But you aint ragged now, Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick; “I look a little better than I did in my +Washington coat and Louis Napoleon pants. But if I got in a office, they +wouldn’t give me more’n three dollars a week, and I couldn’t +live ’spectable on that.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I suppose not,” said Frank, thoughtfully. “But you would +get more at the end of the first year.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick; “but by that time I’d be +nothin’ but skin and bones.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank laughed. “That reminds me,” he said, “of the story of +an Irishman, who, out of economy, thought he would teach his horse to feed on +shavings. So he provided the horse with a pair of green spectacles which made +the shavings look eatable. But unfortunately, just as the horse got learned, he +up and died.” +</p> + +<p> +“The hoss must have been a fine specimen of architectur’ by the +time he got through,” remarked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Whereabouts are we now?” asked Frank, as they emerged from Fourth +Avenue into Union Square. +</p> + +<p> +“That is Union Park,” said Dick, pointing to a beautiful enclosure, +in the centre of which was a pond, with a fountain playing. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that the statue of General Washington?” asked Frank, pointing +to a bronze equestrian statue, on a granite pedestal. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick; “he’s growed some since he was +President. If he’d been as tall as that when he fit in the Revolution, +he’d have walloped the Britishers some, I reckon.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank looked up at the statue, which is fourteen and a half feet high, and +acknowledged the justice of Dick’s remark. +</p> + +<p> +“How about the coat, Dick?” he asked. “Would it fit +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it might be rather loose,” said Dick, “I aint much +more’n ten feet high with my boots off.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I should think not,” said Frank, smiling. “You’re +a queer boy, Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ve been brought up queer. Some boys is born with a silver +spoon in their mouth. Victoria’s boys is born with a gold spoon, set with +di’monds; but gold and silver was scarce when I was born, and mine was +pewter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps the gold and silver will come by and by, Dick. Did you ever hear +of Dick Whittington?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never did. Was he a Ragged Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t wonder if he was. At any rate he was very poor when he +was a boy, but he didn’t stay so. Before he died, he became Lord Mayor of +London.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he?” asked Dick, looking interested. “How did he do +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you see, a rich merchant took pity on him, and gave him a home in +his own house, where he used to stay with the servants, being employed in +little errands. One day the merchant noticed Dick picking up pins and needles +that had been dropped, and asked him why he did it. Dick told him he was going +to sell them when he got enough. The merchant was pleased with his saving +disposition, and when soon after, he was going to send a vessel to foreign +parts, he told Dick he might send anything he pleased in it, and it should be +sold to his advantage. Now Dick had nothing in the world but a kitten which had +been given him a short time before.” +</p> + +<p> +“How much taxes did he have to pay on it?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Not very high, probably. But having only the kitten, he concluded to +send it along. After sailing a good many months, during which the kitten grew +up to be a strong cat, the ship touched at an island never before known, which +happened to be infested with rats and mice to such an extent that they worried +everybody’s life out, and even ransacked the king’s palace. To make +a long story short, the captain, seeing how matters stood, brought Dick’s +cat ashore, and she soon made the rats and mice scatter. The king was highly +delighted when he saw what havoc she made among the rats and mice, and resolved +to have her at any price. So he offered a great quantity of gold for her, +which, of course, the captain was glad to accept. It was faithfully carried +back to Dick, and laid the foundation of his fortune. He prospered as he grew +up, and in time became a very rich merchant, respected by all, and before he +died was elected Lord Mayor of London.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a pretty good story,” said Dick; “but I +don’t believe all the cats in New York will ever make me mayor.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, probably not, but you may rise in some other way. A good many +distinguished men have once been poor boys. There’s hope for you, Dick, +if you’ll try.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody ever talked to me so before,” said Dick. “They just +called me Ragged Dick, and told me I’d grow up to be a vagabone (boys who +are better educated need not be surprised at Dick’s blunders) and come to +the gallows.” +</p> + +<p> +“Telling you so won’t make it turn out so, Dick. If you’ll +try to be somebody, and grow up into a respectable member of society, you will. +You may not become rich,—it isn’t everybody that becomes rich, you +know—but you can obtain a good position, and be respected.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll try,” said Dick, earnestly. “I needn’t have +been Ragged Dick so long if I hadn’t spent my money in goin’ to the +theatre, and treatin’ boys to oyster-stews, and bettin’ money on +cards, and such like.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you lost money that way?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lots of it. One time I saved up five dollars to buy me a new rig-out, +cos my best suit was all in rags, when Limpy Jim wanted me to play a game with +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Limpy Jim?” said Frank, interrogatively. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he’s lame; that’s what makes us call him Limpy +Jim.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you lost?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I lost every penny, and had to sleep out, cos I hadn’t a cent +to pay for lodgin’. ’Twas a awful cold night, and I got most +froze.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t Jim let you have any of the money he had won to pay for a +lodging?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I axed him for five cents, but he wouldn’t let me have +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you get lodging for five cents?” asked Frank, in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick, “but not at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. +That’s it right out there.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br/> +THE POCKET-BOOK</h2> + +<p> +They had reached the junction of Broadway and of Fifth Avenue. Before them was +a beautiful park of ten acres. On the left-hand side was a large marble +building, presenting a fine appearance with its extensive white front. This was +the building at which Dick pointed. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that the Fifth Avenue Hotel?” asked Frank. “I’ve +heard of it often. My Uncle William always stops there when he comes to New +York.” +</p> + +<p> +“I once slept on the outside of it,” said Dick. “They was +very reasonable in their charges, and told me I might come again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps sometime you’ll be able to sleep inside,” said +Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess that’ll be when Queen Victoria goes to the Five Points to +live.” +</p> + +<p> +“It looks like a palace,” said Frank. “The queen +needn’t be ashamed to live in such a beautiful building as that.” +</p> + +<p> +Though Frank did not know it, one of the queen’s palaces is far from +being as fine a looking building as the Fifth Avenue Hotel. St. James’ +Palace is a very ugly-looking brick structure, and appears much more like a +factory than like the home of royalty. There are few hotels in the world as +fine-looking as this democratic institution. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment a gentleman passed them on the sidewalk, who looked back at +Dick, as if his face seemed familiar. +</p> + +<p> +“I know that man,” said Dick, after he had passed. +“He’s one of my customers.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is his name?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +“He looked back as if he thought he knew you.” +</p> + +<p> +“He would have knowed me at once if it hadn’t been for my new +clothes,” said Dick. “I don’t look much like Ragged Dick +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose your face looked familiar.” +</p> + +<p> +“All but the dirt,” said Dick, laughing. “I don’t +always have the chance of washing my face and hands in the Astor House.” +</p> + +<p> +“You told me,” said Frank, “that there was a place where you +could get lodging for five cents. Where’s that?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the News-boys’ Lodgin’ House, on Fulton +Street,” said Dick, “up over the ‘Sun’ office. +It’s a good place. I don’t know what us boys would do without it. +They give you supper for six cents, and a bed for five cents more.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose some boys don’t even have the five cents to +pay,—do they?” +</p> + +<p> +“They’ll trust the boys,” said Dick. “But I don’t +like to get trusted. I’d be ashamed to get trusted for five cents, or ten +either. One night I was comin’ down Chatham Street, with fifty cents in +my pocket. I was goin’ to get a good oyster-stew, and then go to the +lodgin’ house; but somehow it slipped through a hole in my +trowses-pocket, and I hadn’t a cent left. If it had been summer I +shouldn’t have cared, but it’s rather tough stayin’ out +winter nights.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank, who had always possessed a good home of his own, found it hard to +realize that the boy who was walking at his side had actually walked the +streets in the cold without a home, or money to procure the common comfort of a +bed. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you do?” he asked, his voice full of sympathy. +</p> + +<p> +“I went to the ‘Times’ office. I knowed one of the pressmen, +and he let me set down in a corner, where I was warm, and I soon got fast +asleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you get a room somewhere, and so always have a home to +go to?” +</p> + +<p> +“I dunno,” said Dick. “I never thought of it. P’rhaps I +may hire a furnished house on Madison Square.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s where Flora McFlimsey lived.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know her,” said Dick, who had never read the popular +poem of which she is the heroine. +</p> + +<p> +While this conversation was going on, they had turned into Twenty-fifth Street, +and had by this time reached Third Avenue. +</p> + +<p> +Just before entering it, their attention was drawn to the rather singular +conduct of an individual in front of them. Stopping suddenly, he appeared to +pick up something from the sidewalk, and then looked about him in rather a +confused way. +</p> + +<p> +“I know his game,” whispered Dick. “Come along and +you’ll see what it is.” +</p> + +<p> +He hurried Frank forward until they overtook the man, who had come to a +stand-still. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you found anything?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the man, “I’ve found this.” +</p> + +<p> +He exhibited a wallet which seemed stuffed with bills, to judge from its +plethoric appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“Whew!” exclaimed Dick; “you’re in luck.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose somebody has lost it,” said the man, “and will +offer a handsome reward.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which you’ll get.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unfortunately I am obliged to take the next train to Boston. +That’s where I live. I haven’t time to hunt up the owner.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I suppose you’ll take the pocket-book with you,” said +Dick, with assumed simplicity. +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to leave it with some honest fellow who would see it +returned to the owner,” said the man, glancing at the boys. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m honest,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve no doubt of it,” said the other. “Well, young +man, I’ll make you an offer. You take the pocket-book—” +</p> + +<p> +“All right. Hand it over, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute. There must be a large sum inside. I shouldn’t +wonder if there might be a thousand dollars. The owner will probably give you a +hundred dollars reward.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you stay and get it?” asked Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“I would, only there is sickness in my family, and I must get home as +soon as possible. Just give me twenty dollars, and I’ll hand you the +pocket-book, and let you make whatever you can out of it. Come, that’s a +good offer. What do you say?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick was well dressed, so that the other did not regard it as at all improbable +that he might possess that sum. He was prepared, however, to let him have it +for less, if necessary. +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty dollars is a good deal of money,” said Dick, appearing to +hesitate. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll get it back, and a good deal more,” said the +stranger, persuasively. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know but I shall. What would you do, Frank?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know but I would,” said Frank, “if +you’ve got the money.” He was not a little surprised to think that +Dick had so much by him. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know but I will,” said Dick, after some +irresolution. “I guess I won’t lose much.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t lose anything,” said the stranger briskly. +“Only be quick, for I must be on my way to the cars. I am afraid I shall +miss them now.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick pulled out a bill from his pocket, and handed it to the stranger, +receiving the pocket-book in return. At that moment a policeman turned the +corner, and the stranger, hurriedly thrusting the bill into his pocket, without +looking at it, made off with rapid steps. +</p> + +<p> +“What is there in the pocket-book, Dick?” asked Frank in some +excitement. “I hope there’s enough to pay you for the money you +gave him.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll risk that,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“But you gave him twenty dollars. That’s a good deal of +money.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I had given him as much as that, I should deserve to be cheated out +of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you did,—didn’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“He thought so.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was it, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was nothing but a dry-goods circular got up to imitate a +bank-bill.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank looked sober. +</p> + +<p> +“You ought not to have cheated him, Dick,” he said, reproachfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t he want to cheat me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you s’pose there is in that pocket-book?” asked +Dick, holding it up. +</p> + +<p> +Frank surveyed its ample proportions, and answered sincerely enough, +“Money, and a good deal of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“There aint stamps enough in it to buy a oyster-stew,” said Dick. +“If you don’t believe it, just look while I open it.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying he opened the pocket-book, and showed Frank that it was stuffed out +with pieces of blank paper, carefully folded up in the shape of bills. Frank, +who was unused to city life, and had never heard anything of the +“drop-game” looked amazed at this unexpected development. +</p> + +<p> +“I knowed how it was all the time,” said Dick. “I guess I got +the best of him there. This wallet’s worth somethin’. I shall use +it to keep my stiffkit’s of Erie stock in, and all my other papers what +aint of no use to anybody but the owner.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the kind of papers it’s got in it now,” said +Frank, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s so!” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“By hokey!” he exclaimed suddenly, “if there aint the old +chap comin’ back ag’in. He looks as if he’d heard bad news +from his sick family.” +</p> + +<p> +By this time the pocket-book dropper had come up. +</p> + +<p> +Approaching the boys, he said in an undertone to Dick, “Give me back that +pocket-book, you young rascal!” +</p> + +<p> +“Beg your pardon, mister,” said Dick, “but was you +addressin’ me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I was.” +</p> + +<p> +“’Cause you called me by the wrong name. I’ve knowed some +rascals, but I aint the honor to belong to the family.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked significantly at the other as he spoke, which didn’t improve +the man’s temper. Accustomed to swindle others, he did not fancy being +practised upon in return. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me back that pocket-book,” he repeated in a threatening +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Couldn’t do it,” said Dick, coolly. “I’m +go’n’ to restore it to the owner. The contents is so valooable that +most likely the loss has made him sick, and he’ll be likely to come down +liberal to the honest finder.” +</p> + +<p> +“You gave me a bogus bill,” said the man. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s what I use myself,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve swindled me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought it was the other way.” +</p> + +<p> +“None of your nonsense,” said the man angrily. “If you +don’t give up that pocket-book, I’ll call a policeman.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would,” said Dick. “They’ll know most +likely whether it’s Stewart or Astor that’s lost the pocket-book, +and I can get ’em to return it.” +</p> + +<p> +The “dropper,” whose object it was to recover the pocket-book, in +order to try the same game on a more satisfactory customer, was irritated by +Dick’s refusal, and above all by the coolness he displayed. He resolved +to make one more attempt. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want to pass the night in the Tombs?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you for your very obligin’ proposal,” said Dick; +“but it aint convenient to-day. Any other time, when you’d like to +have me come and stop with you, I’m agreeable; but my two youngest +children is down with the measles, and I expect I’ll have to set up all +night to take care of ’em. Is the Tombs, in gineral, a pleasant place of +residence?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick asked this question with an air of so much earnestness that Frank could +scarcely forbear laughing, though it is hardly necessary to say that the +dropper was by no means so inclined. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll know sometime,” he said, scowling. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll make you a fair offer,” said Dick. “If I get +more’n fifty dollars as a reward for my honesty, I’ll divide with +you. But I say, aint it most time to go back to your sick family in +Boston?” +</p> + +<p> +Finding that nothing was to be made out of Dick, the man strode away with a +muttered curse. +</p> + +<p> +“You were too smart for him, Dick,” said Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick, “I aint knocked round the city streets all +my life for nothin’.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br/> +DICK’S EARLY HISTORY</h2> + +<p> +“Have you always lived in New York, Dick?” asked Frank, after a +pause. +</p> + +<p> +“Ever since I can remember.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you’d tell me a little about yourself. Have you got any +father or mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“I aint got no mother. She died when I wasn’t but three years old. +My father went to sea; but he went off before mother died, and nothin’ +was ever heard of him. I expect he got wrecked, or died at sea.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what became of you when your mother died?” +</p> + +<p> +“The folks she boarded with took care of me, but they was poor, and they +couldn’t do much. When I was seven the woman died, and her husband went +out West, and then I had to scratch for myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“At seven years old!” exclaimed Frank, in amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick, “I was a little feller to take care of +myself, but,” he continued with pardonable pride, “I did it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What could you do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes one thing, and sometimes another,” said Dick. “I +changed my business accordin’ as I had to. Sometimes I was a newsboy, and +diffused intelligence among the masses, as I heard somebody say once in a big +speech he made in the Park. Them was the times when Horace Greeley and James +Gordon Bennett made money.” +</p> + +<p> +“Through your enterprise?” suggested Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick; “but I give it up after a while.” +</p> + +<p> +“What for?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, they didn’t always put news enough in their papers, and +people wouldn’t buy ’em as fast as I wanted ’em to. So one +mornin’ I was stuck on a lot of Heralds, and I thought I’d make a +sensation. So I called out ‘GREAT NEWS! QUEEN VICTORIA +ASSASSINATED!’ All my Heralds went off like hot cakes, and I went off, +too, but one of the gentlemen what got sold remembered me, and said he’d +have me took up, and that’s what made me change my business.” +</p> + +<p> +“That wasn’t right, Dick,” said Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“I know it,” said Dick; “but lots of boys does it.” +</p> + +<p> +“That don’t make it any better.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick, “I was sort of ashamed at the time, +’specially about one poor old gentleman,—a Englishman he was. He +couldn’t help cryin’ to think the queen was dead, and his hands +shook when he handed me the money for the paper.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you do next?” +</p> + +<p> +“I went into the match business,” said Dick; “but it was +small sales and small profits. Most of the people I called on had just laid in +a stock, and didn’t want to buy. So one cold night, when I hadn’t +money enough to pay for a lodgin’, I burned the last of my matches to +keep me from freezin’. But it cost too much to get warm that way, and I +couldn’t keep it up.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve seen hard times, Dick,” said Frank, compassionately. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick, “I’ve knowed what it was to be hungry +and cold, with nothin’ to eat or to warm me; but there’s one thing +I never could do,” he added, proudly. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never stole,” said Dick. “It’s mean and I +wouldn’t do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were you ever tempted to?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lots of times. Once I had been goin’ round all day, and +hadn’t sold any matches, except three cents’ worth early in the +mornin’. With that I bought an apple, thinkin’ I should get some +more bimeby. When evenin’ come I was awful hungry. I went into a +baker’s just to look at the bread. It made me feel kind o’ good +just to look at the bread and cakes, and I thought maybe they would give me +some. I asked ’em wouldn’t they give me a loaf, and take their pay +in matches. But they said they’d got enough matches to last three months; +so there wasn’t any chance for a trade. While I was standin’ at the +stove warmin’ me, the baker went into a back room, and I felt so hungry I +thought I would take just one loaf, and go off with it. There was such a big +pile I don’t think he’d have known it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you didn’t do it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I didn’t and I was glad of it, for when the man came in +ag’in, he said he wanted some one to carry some cake to a lady in St. +Mark’s Place. His boy was sick, and he hadn’t no one to send; so he +told me he’d give me ten cents if I would go. My business wasn’t +very pressin’ just then, so I went, and when I come back, I took my pay +in bread and cakes. Didn’t they taste good, though?” +</p> + +<p> +“So you didn’t stay long in the match business, Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I couldn’t sell enough to make it pay. Then there was some +folks that wanted me to sell cheaper to them; so I couldn’t make any +profit. There was one old lady—she was rich, too, for she lived in a big +brick house—beat me down so, that I didn’t make no profit at all; +but she wouldn’t buy without, and I hadn’t sold none that day; so I +let her have them. I don’t see why rich folks should be so hard upon a +poor boy that wants to make a livin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a good deal of meanness in the world, I’m afraid, +Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +“If everybody was like you and your uncle,” said Dick, “there +would be some chance for poor people. If I was rich I’d try to help +’em along.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you will be rich sometime, Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid all my wallets will be like this,” said Dick, +indicating the one he had received from the dropper, “and will be full of +papers what aint of no use to anybody except the owner.” +</p> + +<p> +“That depends very much on yourself, Dick,” said Frank. +“Stewart wasn’t always rich, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wasn’t he?” +</p> + +<p> +“When he first came to New York as a young man he was a teacher, and +teachers are not generally very rich. At last he went into business, starting +in a small way, and worked his way up by degrees. But there was one thing he +determined in the beginning: that he would be strictly honorable in all his +dealings, and never overreach any one for the sake of making money. If there +was a chance for him, Dick, there is a chance for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“He knowed enough to be a teacher, and I’m awful ignorant,” +said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“But you needn’t stay so.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I help it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t you learn at school?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t go to school ’cause I’ve got my livin’ +to earn. It wouldn’t do me much good if I learned to read and write, and +just as I’d got learned I starved to death.” +</p> + +<p> +“But are there no night-schools?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you go? I suppose you don’t work in the +evenings.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never cared much about it,” said Dick, “and that’s +the truth. But since I’ve got to talkin’ with you, I think more +about it. I guess I’ll begin to go.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would, Dick. You’ll make a smart man if you only get a +little education.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think so?” asked Dick, doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I know so. A boy who has earned his own living since he was seven years +old must have something in him. I feel very much interested in you, Dick. +You’ve had a hard time of it so far in life, but I think better times are +in store. I want you to do well, and I feel sure you can if you only +try.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a good fellow,” said Dick, gratefully. +“I’m afraid I’m a pretty rough customer, but I aint as bad as +some. I mean to turn over a new leaf, and try to grow up +’spectable.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’ve been a great many boys begin as low down as you, Dick, +that have grown up respectable and honored. But they had to work pretty hard +for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m willin’ to work hard,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“And you must not only work hard, but work in the right way.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the right way?” +</p> + +<p> +“You began in the right way when you determined never to steal, or do +anything mean or dishonorable, however strongly tempted to do so. That will +make people have confidence in you when they come to know you. But, in order to +succeed well, you must manage to get as good an education as you can. Until you +do, you cannot get a position in an office or counting-room, even to run +errands.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s so,” said Dick, soberly. “I never thought how +awful ignorant I was till now.” +</p> + +<p> +“That can be remedied with perseverance,” said Frank. “A year +will do a great deal for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go to work and see what I can do,” said Dick, +energetically. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br/> +A SCENE IN A THIRD AVENUE CAR</h2> + +<p> +The boys had turned into Third Avenue, a long street, which, commencing just +below the Cooper Institute, runs out to Harlem. A man came out of a side +street, uttering at intervals a monotonous cry which sounded like “glass +puddin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“Glass pudding!” repeated Frank, looking in surprised wonder at +Dick. “What does he mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you’d like some,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“I never heard of it before.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose you ask him what he charges for his puddin’.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank looked more narrowly at the man, and soon concluded that he was a +glazier. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I understand,” he said. “He means ‘glass put +in.’” +</p> + +<p> +Frank’s mistake was not a singular one. The monotonous cry of these men +certainly sounds more like “glass puddin’,” than the words +they intend to utter. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Dick, “where shall we go?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to see Central Park,” said Frank. “Is it far +off?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is about a mile and a half from here,” said Dick. “This +is Twenty-ninth Street, and the Park begins at Fifty-ninth Street.” +</p> + +<p> +It may be explained, for the benefit of readers who have never visited New +York, that about a mile from the City Hall the cross-streets begin to be +numbered in regular order. There is a continuous line of houses as far as One +Hundred and Thirtieth Street, where may be found the terminus of the Harlem +line of horse-cars. When the entire island is laid out and settled, probably +the numbers will reach two hundred or more. Central Park, which lies between +Fifty-ninth Street on the south, and One Hundred and Tenth Street on the north, +is true to its name, occupying about the centre of the island. The distance +between two parallel streets is called a block, and twenty blocks make a mile. +It will therefore be seen that Dick was exactly right, when he said they were a +mile and a half from Central Park. +</p> + +<p> +“That is too far to walk,” said Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“’Twon’t cost but six cents to ride,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean in the horse-cars?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right then. We’ll jump aboard the next car.” +</p> + +<p> +The Third Avenue and Harlem line of horse-cars is better patronized than any +other in New York, though not much can be said for the cars, which are usually +dirty and overcrowded. Still, when it is considered that only seven cents are +charged for the entire distance to Harlem, about seven miles from the City +Hall, the fare can hardly be complained of. But of course most of the profit is +made from the way-passengers who only ride a short distance. +</p> + +<p> +A car was at that moment approaching, but it seemed pretty crowded. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall we take that, or wait for another?” asked Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“The next’ll most likely be as bad,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +The boys accordingly signalled to the conductor to stop, and got on the front +platform. They were obliged to stand up till the car reached Fortieth Street, +when so many of the passengers had got off that they obtained seats. +</p> + +<p> +Frank sat down beside a middle-aged woman, or lady, as she probably called +herself, whose sharp visage and thin lips did not seem to promise a very +pleasant disposition. When the two gentlemen who sat beside her arose, she +spread her skirts in the endeavor to fill two seats. Disregarding this, the +boys sat down. +</p> + +<p> +“There aint room for two,” she said, looking sourly at Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“There were two here before.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there ought not to have been. Some people like to crowd in where +they’re not wanted.” +</p> + +<p> +“And some like to take up a double allowance of room,” thought +Frank; but he did not say so. He saw that the woman had a bad temper, and +thought it wisest to say nothing. +</p> + +<p> +Frank had never ridden up the city as far as this, and it was with much +interest that he looked out of the car windows at the stores on either side. +Third Avenue is a broad street, but in the character of its houses and stores +it is quite inferior to Broadway, though better than some of the avenues +further east. Fifth Avenue, as most of my readers already know, is the finest +street in the city, being lined with splendid private residences, occupied by +the wealthier classes. Many of the cross streets also boast houses which may be +considered palaces, so elegant are they externally and internally. Frank caught +glimpses of some of these as he was carried towards the Park. +</p> + +<p> +After the first conversation, already mentioned, with the lady at his side, he +supposed he should have nothing further to do with her. But in this he was +mistaken. While he was busy looking out of the car window, she plunged her hand +into her pocket in search of her purse, which she was unable to find. Instantly +she jumped to the conclusion that it had been stolen, and her suspicions +fastened upon Frank, with whom she was already provoked for “crowding +her,” as she termed it. +</p> + +<p> +“Conductor!” she exclaimed in a sharp voice. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s wanted, ma’am?” returned that functionary. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to come here right off.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“My purse has been stolen. There was four dollars and eighty cents in it. +I know, because I counted it when I paid my fare.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who stole it?” +</p> + +<p> +“That boy,” she said pointing to Frank, who listened to the charge +in the most intense astonishment. “He crowded in here on purpose to rob +me, and I want you to search him right off.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a lie!” exclaimed Dick, indignantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’re in league with him, I dare say,” said the woman +spitefully. “You’re as bad as he is, I’ll be bound.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a nice female, you be!” said Dick, ironically. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you dare to call me a female, sir,” said the lady, +furiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you aint a man in disguise, be you?” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“You are very much mistaken, madam,” said Frank, quietly. +“The conductor may search me, if you desire it.” +</p> + +<p> +A charge of theft, made in a crowded car, of course made quite a sensation. +Cautious passengers instinctively put their hands on their pockets, to make +sure that they, too, had not been robbed. As for Frank, his face flushed, and +he felt very indignant that he should even be suspected of so mean a crime. He +had been carefully brought up, and been taught to regard stealing as low and +wicked. +</p> + +<p> +Dick, on the contrary, thought it a capital joke that such a charge should have +been made against his companion. Though he had brought himself up, and known +plenty of boys and men, too, who would steal, he had never done so himself. He +thought it mean. But he could not be expected to regard it as Frank did. He had +been too familiar with it in others to look upon it with horror. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the passengers rather sided with the boys. Appearances go a great +ways, and Frank did not look like a thief. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you must be mistaken, madam,” said a gentleman sitting +opposite. “The lad does not look as if he would steal.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t tell by looks,” said the lady, sourly. +“They’re deceitful; villains are generally well dressed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be they?” said Dick. “You’d ought to see me with my +Washington coat on. You’d think I was the biggest villain ever you +saw.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve no doubt you are,” said the lady, scowling in the +direction of our hero. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, ma’am,” said Dick. “’Tisn’t +often I get such fine compliments.” +</p> + +<p> +“None of your impudence,” said the lady, wrathfully. “I +believe you’re the worst of the two.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the car had been stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“How long are we going to stop here?” demanded a passenger, +impatiently. “I’m in a hurry, if none of the rest of you +are.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want my pocket-book,” said the lady, defiantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, ma’am, I haven’t got it, and I don’t see as +it’s doing you any good detaining us all here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Conductor, will you call a policeman to search that young scamp?” +continued the aggrieved lady. “You don’t expect I’m going to +lose my money, and do nothing about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll turn my pockets inside out if you want me to,” said +Frank, proudly. “There’s no need of a policeman. The conductor, or +any one else, may search me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, youngster,” said the conductor, “if the lady agrees, +I’ll search you.” +</p> + +<p> +The lady signified her assent. +</p> + +<p> +Frank accordingly turned his pockets inside out, but nothing was revealed +except his own porte-monnaie and a penknife. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, ma’am, are you satisfied?” asked the conductor. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I aint,” said she, decidedly. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t think he’s got it still?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but he’s passed it over to his confederate, that boy there +that’s so full of impudence.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s me,” said Dick, comically. +</p> + +<p> +“He confesses it,” said the lady; “I want him +searched.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said Dick, “I’m ready for the operation, +only, as I’ve got valooable property about me, be careful not to drop any +of my Erie Bonds.” +</p> + +<p> +The conductor’s hand forthwith dove into Dick’s pocket, and drew +out a rusty jack-knife, a battered cent, about fifty cents in change, and the +capacious pocket-book which he had received from the swindler who was anxious +to get back to his sick family in Boston. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that yours, ma’am?” asked the conductor, holding up the +wallet which excited some amazement, by its size, among the other passengers. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me you carry a large pocket-book for a young man of your +age,” said the conductor. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I carry my cash and valooable papers in,” said +Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose that isn’t yours, ma’am,” said the +conductor, turning to the lady. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said she, scornfully. “I wouldn’t carry round +such a great wallet as that. Most likely he’s stolen it from somebody +else.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a prime detective you’d be!” said Dick. +“P’rhaps you know who I took it from.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know but my money’s in it,” said the lady, +sharply. “Conductor, will you open that wallet, and see what there is in +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t disturb the valooable papers,” said Dick, in a tone of +pretended anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +The contents of the wallet excited some amusement among the passengers. +</p> + +<p> +“There don’t seem to be much money here,” said the conductor, +taking out a roll of tissue paper cut out in the shape of bills, and rolled up. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick. “Didn’t I tell you them were papers of +no valoo to anybody but the owner? If the lady’d like to borrow, I +won’t charge no interest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is my money, then?” said the lady, in some discomfiture. +“I shouldn’t wonder if one of the young scamps had thrown it out of +the window.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’d better search your pocket once more,” said the +gentleman opposite. “I don’t believe either of the boys is in +fault. They don’t look to me as if they would steal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, sir,” said Frank. +</p> + +<p> +The lady followed out the suggestion, and, plunging her hand once more into her +pocket, drew out a small porte-monnaie. She hardly knew whether to be glad or +sorry at this discovery. It placed her in rather an awkward position after the +fuss she had made, and the detention to which she had subjected the passengers, +now, as it proved, for nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that the pocket-book you thought stolen?” asked the conductor. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said she, rather confusedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you’ve been keeping me waiting all this time for +nothing,” he said, sharply. “I wish you’d take care to be +sure next time before you make such a disturbance for nothing. I’ve lost +five minutes, and shall not be on time.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t help it,” was the cross reply; “I didn’t +know it was in my pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me you owe an apology to the boys you accused of a theft +which they have not committed,” said the gentleman opposite. +</p> + +<p> +“I shan’t apologize to anybody,” said the lady, whose temper +was not of the best; “least of all to such whipper-snappers as they +are.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, ma’am,” said Dick, comically; “your +handsome apology is accepted. It aint of no consequence, only I didn’t +like to expose the contents of my valooable pocket-book, for fear it might +excite the envy of some of my poor neighbors.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a character,” said the gentleman who had already +spoken, with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“A bad character!” muttered the lady. +</p> + +<p> +But it was quite evident that the sympathies of those present were against the +lady, and on the side of the boys who had been falsely accused, while +Dick’s drollery had created considerable amusement. +</p> + +<p> +The cars had now reached Fifty-ninth Street, the southern boundary of the Park, +and here our hero and his companion got off. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d better look out for pickpockets, my lad,” said the +conductor, pleasantly. “That big wallet of yours might prove a great +temptation.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s so,” said Dick. “That’s the +misfortin’ of being rich. Astor and me don’t sleep much for fear of +burglars breakin’ in and robbin’ us of our valooable treasures. +Sometimes I think I’ll give all my money to an Orphan Asylum, and take it +out in board. I guess I’d make money by the operation.” +</p> + +<p> +While Dick was speaking, the car rolled away, and the boys turned up +Fifty-ninth Street, for two long blocks yet separated them from the Park. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X.<br/> +INTRODUCES A VICTIM OF MISPLACED CONFIDENCE</h2> + +<p> +“What a queer chap you are, Dick!” said Frank, laughing. “You +always seem to be in good spirits.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I aint always. Sometimes I have the blues.” +</p> + +<p> +“When?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, once last winter it was awful cold, and there was big holes in my +shoes, and my gloves and all my warm clothes was at the tailor’s. I felt +as if life was sort of tough, and I’d like it if some rich man would +adopt me, and give me plenty to eat and drink and wear, without my havin’ +to look so sharp after it. Then agin’ when I’ve seen boys with good +homes, and fathers, and mothers, I’ve thought I’d like to have +somebody to care for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick’s tone changed as he said this, from his usual levity, and there was +a touch of sadness in it. Frank, blessed with a good home and indulgent +parents, could not help pitying the friendless boy who had found life such +up-hill work. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t say you have no one to care for you, Dick,” he said, +lightly laying his hand on Dick’s shoulder. “I will care for +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you will let me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would,” said Dick, earnestly. “I’d like to +feel that I have one friend who cares for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Central Park was now before them, but it was far from presenting the appearance +which it now exhibits. It had not been long since work had been commenced upon +it, and it was still very rough and unfinished. A rough tract of land, two +miles and a half from north to south, and a half a mile broad, very rocky in +parts, was the material from which the Park Commissioners have made the present +beautiful enclosure. There were no houses of good appearance near it, buildings +being limited mainly to rude temporary huts used by the workmen who were +employed in improving it. The time will undoubtedly come when the Park will be +surrounded by elegant residences, and compare favorably in this respect with +the most attractive parts of any city in the world. But at the time when Frank +and Dick visited it, not much could be said in favor either of the Park or its +neighborhood. +</p> + +<p> +“If this is Central Park,” said Frank, who naturally felt +disappointed, “I don’t think much of it. My father’s got a +large pasture that is much nicer.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’ll look better some time,” said Dick. “There aint +much to see now but rocks. We will take a walk over it if you want to.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Frank, “I’ve seen as much of it as I want +to. Besides, I feel tired.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then we’ll go back. We can take the Sixth Avenue cars. They will +bring us out at Vesey Street just beside the Astor House.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said Frank. “That will be the best course. I +hope,” he added, laughing, “our agreeable lady friend won’t +be there. I don’t care about being accused of <i>stealing</i> +again.” +</p> + +<p> +“She was a tough one,” said Dick. “Wouldn’t she make a +nice wife for a man that likes to live in hot water, and didn’t mind +bein’ scalded two or three times a day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think she’d just suit him. Is that the right car, +Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, jump in, and I’ll follow.” +</p> + +<p> +The Sixth Avenue is lined with stores, many of them of very good appearance, +and would make a very respectable principal street for a good-sized city. But +it is only one of several long business streets which run up the island, and +illustrate the extent and importance of the city to which they belong. +</p> + +<p> +No incidents worth mentioning took place during their ride down town. In about +three-quarters of an hour the boys got out of the car beside the Astor House. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you goin’ in now, Frank?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“That depends upon whether you have anything else to show me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t you like to go to Wall Street?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the street where there are so many bankers and +brokers,—isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I s’pose you aint afraid of bulls and bears,—are +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bulls and bears?” repeated Frank, puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are they?” +</p> + +<p> +“The bulls is what tries to make the stocks go up, and the bears is what +try to growl ’em down.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I see. Yes, I’d like to go.” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly they walked down on the west side of Broadway as far as Trinity +Church, and then, crossing, entered a street not very wide or very long, but of +very great importance. The reader would be astonished if he could know the +amount of money involved in the transactions which take place in a single day +in this street. It would be found that although Broadway is much greater in +length, and lined with stores, it stands second to Wall Street in this respect. +</p> + +<p> +“What is that large marble building?” asked Frank, pointing to a +massive structure on the corner of Wall and Nassau Streets. It was in the form +of a parallelogram, two hundred feet long by ninety wide, and about eighty feet +in height, the ascent to the entrance being by eighteen granite steps. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the Custom House,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“It looks like pictures I’ve seen of the Parthenon at +Athens,” said Frank, meditatively. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s Athens?” asked Dick. “It aint in York +State,—is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not the Athens I mean, at any rate. It is in Greece, and was a famous +city two thousand years ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s longer than I can remember,” said Dick. “I +can’t remember distinctly more’n about a thousand years.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a chap you are, Dick! Do you know if we can go in?” +</p> + +<p> +The boys ascertained, after a little inquiry, that they would be allowed to do +so. They accordingly entered the Custom House and made their way up to the +roof, from which they had a fine view of the harbor, the wharves crowded with +shipping, and the neighboring shores of Long Island and New Jersey. Towards the +north they looked down for many miles upon continuous lines of streets, and +thousands of roofs, with here and there a church-spire rising above its +neighbors. Dick had never before been up there, and he, as well as Frank, was +interested in the grand view spread before them. +</p> + +<p> +At length they descended, and were going down the granite steps on the outside +of the building, when they were addressed by a young man, whose appearance is +worth describing. +</p> + +<p> +He was tall, and rather loosely put together, with small eyes and rather a +prominent nose. His clothing had evidently not been furnished by a city tailor. +He wore a blue coat with brass buttons, and pantaloons of rather scanty +dimensions, which were several inches too short to cover his lower limbs. He +held in his hand a piece of paper, and his countenance wore a look of mingled +bewilderment and anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“Be they a-payin’ out money inside there?” he asked, +indicating the interior by a motion of his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess so,” said Dick. “Are you a-goin’ in for +some?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wal, yes. I’ve got an order here for sixty dollars,—made a +kind of speculation this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“How was it?” asked Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“Wal, you see I brought down some money to put in the bank, fifty dollars +it was, and I hadn’t justly made up my mind what bank to put it into, +when a chap came up in a terrible hurry, and said it was very unfortunate, but +the bank wasn’t open, and he must have some money right off. He was +obliged to go out of the city by the next train. I asked him how much he +wanted. He said fifty dollars. I told him I’d got that, and he offered me +a check on the bank for sixty, and I let him have it. I thought that was a +pretty easy way to earn ten dollars, so I counted out the money and he went +off. He told me I’d hear a bell ring when they began to pay out money. +But I’ve waited most two hours, and I haint heard it yet. I’d ought +to be goin’, for I told dad I’d be home to-night. Do you think I +can get the money now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you show me the check?” asked Frank, who had listened +attentively to the countryman’s story, and suspected that he had been +made the victim of a swindler. It was made out upon the “Washington +Bank,” in the sum of sixty dollars, and was signed “Ephraim +Smith.” +</p> + +<p> +“Washington Bank!” repeated Frank. “Dick, is there such a +bank in the city?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not as I knows on,” said Dick. “Leastways I don’t own +any shares in it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aint this the Washington Bank?” asked the countryman, pointing to +the building on the steps of which the three were now standing. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it’s the Custom House.” +</p> + +<p> +“And won’t they give me any money for this?” asked the young +man, the perspiration standing on his brow. +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid the man who gave it to you was a swindler,” said +Frank, gently. +</p> + +<p> +“And won’t I ever see my fifty dollars again?” asked the +youth in agony. +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid not.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’ll dad say?” ejaculated the miserable youth. “It +makes me feel sick to think of it. I wish I had the feller here. I’d +shake him out of his boots.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did he look like? I’ll call a policeman and you shall +describe him. Perhaps in that way you can get track of your money.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick called a policeman, who listened to the description, and recognized the +operator as an experienced swindler. He assured the countryman that there was +very little chance of his ever seeing his money again. The boys left the +miserable youth loudly bewailing his bad luck, and proceeded on their way down +the street. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a baby,” said Dick, contemptuously. “He’d +ought to know how to take care of himself and his money. A feller has to look +sharp in this city, or he’ll lose his eye-teeth before he knows +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you never got swindled out of fifty dollars, Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t carry no such small bills. I wish I did,” he +added. +</p> + +<p> +“So do I, Dick. What’s that building there at the end of the +street?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the Wall-Street Ferry to Brooklyn.” +</p> + +<p> +“How long does it take to go across?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not more’n five minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose we just ride over and back.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right!” said Dick. “It’s rather expensive; but if +you don’t mind, I don’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, how much does it cost?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two cents apiece.” +</p> + +<p> +“I guess I can stand that. Let us go.” +</p> + +<p> +They passed the gate, paying the fare to a man who stood at the entrance, and +were soon on the ferry-boat, bound for Brooklyn. +</p> + +<p> +They had scarcely entered the boat, when Dick, grasping Frank by the arm, +pointed to a man just outside of the gentlemen’s cabin. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you see that man, Frank?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, what of him?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s the man that cheated the country chap out of his fifty +dollars.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br/> +DICK AS A DETECTIVE</h2> + +<p> +Dick’s ready identification of the rogue who had cheated the countryman, +surprised Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“What makes you think it is he?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I’ve seen him before, and I know he’s up to them +kind of tricks. When I heard how he looked, I was sure I knowed him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Our recognizing him won’t be of much use,” said Frank. +“It won’t give back the countryman his money.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” said Dick, thoughtfully. “May be I can +get it.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” asked Frank, incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute, and you’ll see.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick left his companion, and went up to the man whom he suspected. +</p> + +<p> +“Ephraim Smith,” said Dick, in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +The man turned suddenly, and looked at Dick uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you say?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe your name is Ephraim Smith,” continued Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re mistaken,” said the man, and was about to move off. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop a minute,” said Dick. “Don’t you keep your money +in the Washington Bank?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know any such bank. I’m in a hurry, young man, and I +can’t stop to answer any foolish questions.” +</p> + +<p> +The boat had by this time reached the Brooklyn pier, and Mr. Ephraim Smith +seemed in a hurry to land. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here,” said Dick, significantly; “you’d better +not go on shore unless you want to jump into the arms of a policeman.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” asked the man, startled. +</p> + +<p> +“That little affair of yours is known to the police,” said Dick; +“about how you got fifty dollars out of a greenhorn on a false check, and +it mayn’t be safe for you to go ashore.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the +swindler with affected boldness, though Dick could see that he was ill at ease. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes you do,” said Dick. “There isn’t but one thing to +do. Just give me back that money, and I’ll see that you’re not +touched. If you don’t, I’ll give you up to the first +p’liceman we meet.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick looked so determined, and spoke so confidently, that the other, overcome +by his fears, no longer hesitated, but passed a roll of bills to Dick and +hastily left the boat. +</p> + +<p> +All this Frank witnessed with great amazement, not understanding what influence +Dick could have obtained over the swindler sufficient to compel restitution. +</p> + +<p> +“How did you do it?” he asked eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“I told him I’d exert my influence with the president to have him +tried by <i>habeas corpus</i>,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“And of course that frightened him. But tell me, without joking, how you +managed.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick gave a truthful account of what occurred, and then said, “Now +we’ll go back and carry the money.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose we don’t find the poor countryman?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then the p’lice will take care of it.” +</p> + +<p> +They remained on board the boat, and in five minutes were again in New York. +Going up Wall Street, they met the countryman a little distance from the Custom +House. His face was marked with the traces of deep anguish; but in his case +even grief could not subdue the cravings of appetite. He had purchased some +cakes of one of the old women who spread out for the benefit of passers-by an +array of apples and seed-cakes, and was munching them with melancholy +satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“Hilloa!” said Dick. “Have you found your money?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” ejaculated the young man, with a convulsive gasp. “I +shan’t ever see it again. The mean skunk’s cheated me out of it. +Consarn his picter! It took me most six months to save it up. I was +workin’ for Deacon Pinkham in our place. Oh, I wish I’d never come +to New York! The deacon, he told me he’d keep it for me; but I wanted to +put it in the bank, and now it’s all gone, boo hoo!” +</p> + +<p> +And the miserable youth, having despatched his cakes, was so overcome by the +thought of his loss that he burst into tears. +</p> + +<p> +“I say,” said Dick, “dry up, and see what I’ve got +here.” +</p> + +<p> +The youth no sooner saw the roll of bills, and comprehended that it was indeed +his lost treasure, than from the depths of anguish he was exalted to the most +ecstatic joy. He seized Dick’s hand, and shook it with so much energy +that our hero began to feel rather alarmed for its safety. +</p> + +<p> +“’Pears to me you take my arm for a pump-handle,” said he. +“Couldn’t you show your gratitood some other way? It’s just +possible I may want to use my arm ag’in some time.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man desisted, but invited Dick most cordially to come up and stop a +week with him at his country home, assuring him that he wouldn’t charge +him anything for board. +</p> + +<p> +“All right!” said Dick. “If you don’t mind I’ll +bring my wife along, too. She’s delicate, and the country air might do +her good.” +</p> + +<p> +Jonathan stared at him in amazement, uncertain whether to credit the fact of +his marriage. Dick walked on with Frank, leaving him in an apparent state of +stupefaction, and it is possible that he has not yet settled the affair to his +satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Frank, “I think I’ll go back to the Astor +House. Uncle has probably got through his business and returned.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +The two boys walked up to Broadway, just where the tall steeple of Trinity +faces the street of bankers and brokers, and walked leisurely to the hotel. +When they arrived at the Astor House, Dick said, “Good-by, Frank.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not yet,” said Frank; “I want you to come in with me.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick followed his young patron up the steps. Frank went to the reading-room, +where, as he had thought probable, he found his uncle already arrived, and +reading a copy of “The Evening Post,” which he had just purchased +outside. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, boys,” he said, looking up, “have you had a pleasant +jaunt?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Frank. “Dick’s a capital guide.” +</p> + +<p> +“So this is Dick,” said Mr. Whitney, surveying him with a smile. +“Upon my word, I should hardly have known him. I must congratulate him on +his improved appearance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Frank’s been very kind to me,” said Dick, who, rough +street-boy as he was, had a heart easily touched by kindness, of which he had +never experienced much. “He’s a tip-top fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe he is a good boy,” said Mr. Whitney. “I hope, my +lad, you will prosper and rise in the world. You know in this free country +poverty in early life is no bar to a man’s advancement. I haven’t +risen very high myself,” he added, with a smile, “but have met with +moderate success in life; yet there was a time when I was as poor as +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were you, sir,” asked Dick, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my boy, I have known the time I have been obliged to go without my +dinner because I didn’t have enough money to pay for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you get up in the world,” asked Dick, anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“I entered a printing-office as an apprentice, and worked for some years. +Then my eyes gave out and I was obliged to give that up. Not knowing what else +to do, I went into the country, and worked on a farm. After a while I was lucky +enough to invent a machine, which has brought me in a great deal of money. But +there was one thing I got while I was in the printing-office which I value more +than money.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was that, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“A taste for reading and study. During my leisure hours I improved myself +by study, and acquired a large part of the knowledge which I now possess. +Indeed, it was one of my books that first put me on the track of the invention, +which I afterwards made. So you see, my lad, that my studious habits paid me in +money, as well as in another way.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m awful ignorant,” said Dick, soberly. +</p> + +<p> +“But you are young, and, I judge, a smart boy. If you try to learn, you +can, and if you ever expect to do anything in the world, you must know +something of books.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will,” said Dick, resolutely. “I aint always goin’ +to black boots for a livin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“All labor is respectable, my lad, and you have no cause to be ashamed of +any honest business; yet when you can get something to do that promises better +for your future prospects, I advise you to do so. Till then earn your living in +the way you are accustomed to, avoid extravagance, and save up a little money +if you can.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you for your advice,” said our hero. “There aint many +that takes an interest in Ragged Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +“So that’s your name,” said Mr. Whitney. “If I judge +you rightly, it won’t be long before you change it. Save your money, my +lad, buy books, and determine to be somebody, and you may yet fill an honorable +position.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll try,” said Dick. “Good-night, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute, Dick,” said Frank. “Your blacking-box and old +clothes are upstairs. You may want them.” +</p> + +<p> +“In course,” said Dick. “I couldn’t get along without +my best clothes, and my stock in trade.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may go up to the room with him, Frank,” said Mr. Whitney. +“The clerk will give you the key. I want to see you, Dick, before you +go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you going to sleep to-night, Dick?” asked Frank, as they +went upstairs together. +</p> + +<p> +“P’r’aps at the Fifth Avenue Hotel—on the +outside,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you any place to sleep, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I slept in a box, last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“In a box?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, on Spruce Street.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor fellow!” said Frank, compassionately. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, ’twas a bully bed—full of straw! I slept like a +top.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you earn enough to pay for a room, Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick; “only I spend my money foolish, goin’ +to the Old Bowery, and Tony Pastor’s, and sometimes gamblin’ in +Baxter Street.” +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t gamble any more,—will you, Dick?” said +Frank, laying his hand persuasively on his companion’s shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I won’t,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll promise?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and I’ll keep it. You’re a good feller. I wish you was +goin’ to be in New York.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to a boarding-school in Connecticut. The name of the town is +Barnton. Will you write to me, Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“My writing would look like hens’ tracks,” said our hero. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind. I want you to write. When you write you can tell me how to +direct, and I will send you a letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would,” said Dick. “I wish I was more like +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you will make a much better boy, Dick. Now we’ll go in to +my uncle. He wishes to see you before you go.” +</p> + +<p> +They went into the reading-room. Dick had wrapped up his blacking-brush in a +newspaper with which Frank had supplied him, feeling that a guest of the Astor +House should hardly be seen coming out of the hotel displaying such a +professional sign. +</p> + +<p> +“Uncle, Dick’s ready to go,” said Frank. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-by, my lad,” said Mr. Whitney. “I hope to hear good +accounts of you sometime. Don’t forget what I have told you. Remember +that your future position depends mainly upon yourself, and that it will be +high or low as you choose to make it.” +</p> + +<p> +He held out his hand, in which was a five-dollar bill. Dick shrunk back. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like to take it,” he said. “I haven’t +earned it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps not,” said Mr. Whitney; “but I give it to you +because I remember my own friendless youth. I hope it may be of service to you. +Sometime when you are a prosperous man, you can repay it in the form of aid to +some poor boy, who is struggling upward as you are now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will, sir,” said Dick, manfully. +</p> + +<p> +He no longer refused the money, but took it gratefully, and, bidding Frank and +his uncle good-by, went out into the street. A feeling of loneliness came over +him as he left the presence of Frank, for whom he had formed a strong +attachment in the few hours he had known him. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br/> +DICK HIRES A ROOM ON MOTT STREET</h2> + +<p> +Going out into the fresh air Dick felt the pangs of hunger. He accordingly went +to a restaurant and got a substantial supper. Perhaps it was the new clothes he +wore, which made him feel a little more aristocratic. At all events, instead of +patronizing the cheap restaurant where he usually procured his meals, he went +into the refectory attached to Lovejoy’s Hotel, where the prices were +higher and the company more select. In his ordinary dress, Dick would have been +excluded, but now he had the appearance of a very respectable, gentlemanly boy, +whose presence would not discredit any establishment. His orders were therefore +received with attention by the waiter and in due time a good supper was placed +before him. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I could come here every day,” thought Dick. “It seems +kind o’ nice and ’spectable, side of the other place. There’s +a gent at that other table that I’ve shined boots for more’n once. +He don’t know me in my new clothes. Guess he don’t know his +boot-black patronizes the same establishment.” +</p> + +<p> +His supper over, Dick went up to the desk, and, presenting his check, tendered +in payment his five-dollar bill, as if it were one of a large number which he +possessed. Receiving back his change he went out into the street. +</p> + +<p> +Two questions now arose: How should he spend the evening, and where should he +pass the night? Yesterday, with such a sum of money in his possession, he would +have answered both questions readily. For the evening, he would have passed it +at the Old Bowery, and gone to sleep in any out-of-the-way place that offered. +But he had turned over a new leaf, or resolved to do so. He meant to save his +money for some useful purpose,—to aid his advancement in the world. So he +could not afford the theatre. Besides, with his new clothes, he was unwilling +to pass the night out of doors. +</p> + +<p> +“I should spile ’em,” he thought, “and that +wouldn’t pay.” +</p> + +<p> +So he determined to hunt up a room which he could occupy regularly, and +consider as his own, where he could sleep nights, instead of depending on boxes +and old wagons for a chance shelter. This would be the first step towards +respectability, and Dick determined to take it. +</p> + +<p> +He accordingly passed through the City Hall Park, and walked leisurely up +Centre Street. +</p> + +<p> +He decided that it would hardly be advisable for him to seek lodgings in Fifth +Avenue, although his present cash capital consisted of nearly five dollars in +money, besides the valuable papers contained in his wallet. Besides, he had +reason to doubt whether any in his line of business lived on that aristocratic +street. He took his way to Mott Street, which is considerably less pretentious, +and halted in front of a shabby brick lodging-house kept by a Mrs. Mooney, with +whose son Tom, Dick was acquainted. +</p> + +<p> +Dick rang the bell, which sent back a shrill metallic response. +</p> + +<p> +The door was opened by a slatternly servant, who looked at him inquiringly, and +not without curiosity. It must be remembered that Dick was well dressed, and +that nothing in his appearance bespoke his occupation. Being naturally a +good-looking boy, he might readily be mistaken for a gentleman’s son. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Queen Victoria,” said Dick, “is your missus at +home?” +</p> + +<p> +“My name’s Bridget,” said the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, indeed!” said Dick. “You looked so much like the +queen’s picter what she gave me last Christmas in exchange for mine, that +I couldn’t help calling you by her name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, go along wid ye!” said Bridget. “It’s makin’ +fun ye are.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t believe me,” said Dick, gravely, “all +you’ve got to do is to ask my partic’lar friend, the Duke of +Newcastle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bridget!” called a shrill voice from the basement. +</p> + +<p> +“The missus is calling me,” said Bridget, hurriedly. +“I’ll tell her ye want her.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right!” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +The servant descended into the lower regions, and in a short time a stout, +red-faced woman appeared on the scene. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, what’s your wish?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you got a room to let?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it for yourself you ask?” questioned the woman, in some +surprise. +</p> + +<p> +Dick answered in the affirmative. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t got any very good rooms vacant. There’s a small +room in the third story.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to see it,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know as it would be good enough for you,” said the +woman, with a glance at Dick’s clothes. +</p> + +<p> +“I aint very partic’lar about accommodations,” said our hero. +“I guess I’ll look at it.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick followed the landlady up two narrow stair-cases, uncarpeted and dirty, to +the third landing, where he was ushered into a room about ten feet square. It +could not be considered a very desirable apartment. It had once been covered +with an oilcloth carpet, but this was now very ragged, and looked worse than +none. There was a single bed in the corner, covered with an indiscriminate heap +of bed-clothing, rumpled and not over-clean. There was a bureau, with the +veneering scratched and in some parts stripped off, and a small glass, eight +inches by ten, cracked across the middle; also two chairs in rather a +disjointed condition. Judging from Dick’s appearance, Mrs. Mooney thought +he would turn from it in disdain. +</p> + +<p> +But it must be remembered that Dick’s past experience had not been of a +character to make him fastidious. In comparison with a box, or an empty wagon, +even this little room seemed comfortable. He decided to hire it if the rent +proved reasonable. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what’s the tax?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“I ought to have a dollar a week,” said Mrs. Mooney, hesitatingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Say seventy-five cents, and I’ll take it,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Every week in advance?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, as times is hard, and I can’t afford to keep it empty, you +may have it. When will you come?” +</p> + +<p> +“To-night,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“It aint lookin’ very neat. I don’t know as I can fix it up +to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ll sleep here to-night, and you can fix it up +to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you’ll excuse the looks. I’m a lone woman, and my +help is so shiftless, I have to look after everything myself; so I can’t +keep things as straight as I want to.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right!” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you pay me the first week in advance?” asked the landlady, +cautiously. +</p> + +<p> +Dick responded by drawing seventy-five cents from his pocket, and placing it in +her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s your business, sir, if I may inquire?” said Mrs. +Mooney. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m professional!” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” said the landlady, who did not feel much enlightened by +this answer. +</p> + +<p> +“How’s Tom?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know my Tom?” said Mrs. Mooney in surprise. +“He’s gone to sea,—to Californy. He went last week.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he?” said Dick. “Yes, I knew him.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Mooney looked upon her new lodger with increased favor, on finding that he +was acquainted with her son, who, by the way, was one of the worst young scamps +in Mott Street, which is saying considerable. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll bring over my baggage from the Astor House this +evening,” said Dick in a tone of importance. +</p> + +<p> +“From the Astor House!” repeated Mrs. Mooney, in fresh amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’ve been stoppin’ there a short time with some +friends,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Mooney might be excused for a little amazement at finding that a guest +from the Astor House was about to become one of her lodgers—such +transfers not being common. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you say you was purfessional?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, ma’am,” said Dick, politely. +</p> + +<p> +“You aint a—a—” Mrs. Mooney paused, uncertain what +conjecture to hazard. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, nothing of the sort,” said Dick, promptly. “How +could you think so, Mrs. Mooney?” +</p> + +<p> +“No offence, sir,” said the landlady, more perplexed than ever. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not,” said our hero. “But you must excuse me now, +Mrs. Mooney, as I have business of great importance to attend to.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll come round this evening?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick answered in the affirmative, and turned away. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder what he is!” thought the landlady, following him with her +eyes as he crossed the street. “He’s got good clothes on, but he +don’t seem very particular about his room. Well; I’ve got all my +rooms full now. That’s one comfort.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick felt more comfortable now that he had taken the decisive step of hiring a +lodging, and paying a week’s rent in advance. For seven nights he was +sure of a shelter and a bed to sleep in. The thought was a pleasant one to our +young vagrant, who hitherto had seldom known when he rose in the morning where +he should find a resting-place at night. +</p> + +<p> +“I must bring my traps round,” said Dick to himself. “I guess +I’ll go to bed early to-night. It’ll feel kinder good to sleep in a +reg’lar bed. Boxes is rather hard to the back, and aint comfortable in +case of rain. I wonder what Johnny Nolan would say if he knew I’d got a +room of my own.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br/> +MICKY MAGUIRE</h2> + +<p> +About nine o’clock Dick sought his new lodgings. In his hands he carried +his professional wardrobe, namely, the clothes which he had worn at the +commencement of the day, and the implements of his business. These he stowed +away in the bureau drawers, and by the light of a flickering candle took off +his clothes and went to bed. Dick had a good digestion and a reasonably good +conscience; consequently he was a good sleeper. Perhaps, too, the soft feather +bed conduced to slumber. At any rate his eyes were soon closed, and he did not +awake until half-past six the next morning. +</p> + +<p> +He lifted himself on his elbow, and stared around him in transient +bewilderment. +</p> + +<p> +“Blest if I hadn’t forgot where I was,” he said to himself. +“So this is my room, is it? Well, it seems kind of ’spectable to +have a room and a bed to sleep in. I’d orter be able to afford +seventy-five cents a week. I’ve throwed away more money than that in one +evenin’. There aint no reason why I shouldn’t live +’spectable. I wish I knowed as much as Frank. He’s a tip-top +feller. Nobody ever cared enough for me before to give me good advice. It was +kicks, and cuffs, and swearin’ at me all the time. I’d like to show +him I can do something.” +</p> + +<p> +While Dick was indulging in these reflections, he had risen from bed, and, +finding an accession to the furniture of his room, in the shape of an ancient +wash-stand bearing a cracked bowl and broken pitcher, indulged himself in the +rather unusual ceremony of a good wash. On the whole, Dick preferred to be +clean, but it was not always easy to gratify his desire. Lodging in the street +as he had been accustomed to do, he had had no opportunity to perform his +toilet in the customary manner. Even now he found himself unable to arrange his +dishevelled locks, having neither comb nor brush. He determined to purchase a +comb, at least, as soon as possible, and a brush too, if he could get one +cheap. Meanwhile he combed his hair with his fingers as well as he could, +though the result was not quite so satisfactory as it might have been. +</p> + +<p> +A question now came up for consideration. For the first time in his life Dick +possessed two suits of clothes. Should he put on the clothes Frank had given +him, or resume his old rags? +</p> + +<p> +Now, twenty-four hours before, at the time Dick was introduced to the +reader’s notice, no one could have been less fastidious as to his +clothing than he. Indeed, he had rather a contempt for good clothes, or at +least he thought so. But now, as he surveyed the ragged and dirty coat and the +patched pants, Dick felt ashamed of them. He was unwilling to appear in the +streets with them. Yet, if he went to work in his new suit, he was in danger of +spoiling it, and he might not have it in his power to purchase a new one. +Economy dictated a return to the old garments. Dick tried them on, and surveyed +himself in the cracked glass; but the reflection did not please him. +</p> + +<p> +“They don’t look ’spectable,” he decided; and, +forthwith taking them off again, he put on the new suit of the day before. +</p> + +<p> +“I must try to earn a little more,” he thought, “to pay for +my room, and to buy some new clo’es when these is wore out.” +</p> + +<p> +He opened the door of his chamber, and went downstairs and into the street, +carrying his blacking-box with him. +</p> + +<p> +It was Dick’s custom to commence his business before breakfast; generally +it must be owned, because he began the day penniless, and must earn his meal +before he ate it. To-day it was different. He had four dollars left in his +pocket-book; but this he had previously determined not to touch. In fact he had +formed the ambitious design of starting an account at a savings’ bank, in +order to have something to fall back upon in case of sickness or any other +emergency, or at any rate as a reserve fund to expend in clothing or other +necessary articles when he required them. Hitherto he had been content to live +on from day to day without a penny ahead; but the new vision of respectability +which now floated before Dick’s mind, owing to his recent acquaintance +with Frank, was beginning to exercise a powerful effect upon him. +</p> + +<p> +In Dick’s profession as in others there are lucky days, when everything +seems to flow prosperously. As if to encourage him in his new-born resolution, +our hero obtained no less than six jobs in the course of an hour and a half. +This gave him sixty cents, quite abundant to purchase his breakfast, and a comb +besides. His exertions made him hungry, and, entering a small eating-house he +ordered a cup of coffee and a beefsteak. To this he added a couple of rolls. +This was quite a luxurious breakfast for Dick, and more expensive than he was +accustomed to indulge himself with. To gratify the curiosity of my young +readers, I will put down the items with their cost,— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +Coffee, . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 cts.<br/> +Beefsteak, . . . . . . . . . . . 15<br/> +A couple of rolls, . . . . . . . 5<br/> +—25 cts. +</p> + +<p> +It will thus be seen that our hero had expended nearly one-half of his +morning’s earnings. Some days he had been compelled to breakfast on five +cents, and then he was forced to content himself with a couple of apples, or +cakes. But a good breakfast is a good preparation for a busy day, and Dick +sallied forth from the restaurant lively and alert, ready to do a good stroke +of business. +</p> + +<p> +Dick’s change of costume was liable to lead to one result of which he had +not thought. His brother boot-blacks might think he had grown aristocratic, and +was putting on airs,—that, in fact, he was getting above his business, +and desirous to outshine his associates. Dick had not dreamed of this, because +in fact, in spite of his new-born ambition, he entertained no such feeling. +There was nothing of what boys call “big-feeling” about him. He was +a borough democrat, using the word not politically, but in its proper sense, +and was disposed to fraternize with all whom he styled “good +fellows,” without regard to their position. It may seem a little +unnecessary to some of my readers to make this explanation; but they must +remember that pride and “big-feeling” are confined to no age or +class, but may be found in boys as well as men, and in boot-blacks as well as +those of a higher rank. +</p> + +<p> +The morning being a busy time with the boot-blacks, Dick’s changed +appearance had not as yet attracted much attention. But when business slackened +a little, our hero was destined to be reminded of it. +</p> + +<p> +Among the down-town boot-blacks was one hailing from the Five Points,—a +stout, red-haired, freckled-faced boy of fourteen, bearing the name of Micky +Maguire. This boy, by his boldness and recklessness, as well as by his personal +strength, which was considerable, had acquired an ascendancy among his fellow +professionals, and had a gang of subservient followers, whom he led on to acts +of ruffianism, not unfrequently terminating in a month or two at +Blackwell’s Island. Micky himself had served two terms there; but the +confinement appeared to have had very little effect in amending his conduct, +except, perhaps, in making him a little more cautious about an encounter with +the “copps,” as the members of the city police are, for some +unknown reason, styled among the Five-Point boys. +</p> + +<p> +Now Micky was proud of his strength, and of the position of leader which it had +secured him. Moreover he was democratic in his tastes, and had a jealous hatred +of those who wore good clothes and kept their faces clean. He called it putting +on airs, and resented the implied superiority. If he had been fifteen years +older, and had a trifle more education, he would have interested himself in +politics, and been prominent at ward meetings, and a terror to respectable +voters on election day. As it was, he contented himself with being the leader +of a gang of young ruffians, over whom he wielded a despotic power. +</p> + +<p> +Now it is only justice to Dick to say that, so far as wearing good clothes was +concerned, he had never hitherto offended the eyes of Micky Maguire. Indeed, +they generally looked as if they patronized the same clothing establishment. On +this particular morning it chanced that Micky had not been very fortunate in a +business way, and, as a natural consequence, his temper, never very amiable, +was somewhat ruffled by the fact. He had had a very frugal breakfast,—not +because he felt abstemious, but owing to the low state of his finances. He was +walking along with one of his particular friends, a boy nicknamed Limpy Jim, so +called from a slight peculiarity in his walk, when all at once he espied our +friend Dick in his new suit. +</p> + +<p> +“My eyes!” he exclaimed, in astonishment; “Jim, just look at +Ragged Dick. He’s come into a fortun’, and turned gentleman. See +his new clothes.” +</p> + +<p> +“So he has,” said Jim. “Where’d he get ’em, I +wonder?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hooked ’em, p’raps. Let’s go and stir him up a little. +We don’t want no gentlemen on our beat. So he’s puttin’ on +airs,—is he? I’ll give him a lesson.” +</p> + +<p> +So saying the two boys walked up to our hero, who had not observed them, his +back being turned, and Micky Maguire gave him a smart slap on the shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +Dick turned round quickly. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br/> +A BATTLE AND A VICTORY</h2> + +<p> +“What’s that for?” demanded Dick, turning round to see who +had struck him. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re gettin’ mighty fine!” said Micky Maguire, +surveying Dick’s new clothes with a scornful air. +</p> + +<p> +There was something in his words and tone, which Dick, who was disposed to +stand up for his dignity, did not at all relish. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what’s the odds if I am?” he retorted. “Does it +hurt you any?” +</p> + +<p> +“See him put on airs, Jim,” said Micky, turning to his companion. +“Where’d you get them clo’es?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind where I got ’em. Maybe the Prince of Wales gave +’em to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hear him, now, Jim,” said Micky. “Most likely he stole +’em.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stealin’ aint in <i>my</i> line.” +</p> + +<p> +It might have been unconscious the emphasis which Dick placed on the word +“my.” At any rate Micky chose to take offence. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean to say <i>I</i> steal?” he demanded, doubling up his +fist, and advancing towards Dick in a threatening manner. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t say anything about it,” answered Dick, by no means +alarmed at this hostile demonstration. “I know you’ve been to the +Island twice. P’r’aps ’twas to make a visit along of the +Mayor and Aldermen. Maybe you was a innocent victim of oppression. I aint a +goin’ to say.” +</p> + +<p> +Micky’s freckled face grew red with wrath, for Dick had only stated the +truth. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean to insult me?” he demanded shaking the fist already +doubled up in Dick’s face. “Maybe you want a lickin’?” +</p> + +<p> +“I aint partic’larly anxious to get one,” said Dick, coolly. +“They don’t agree with my constitution which is nat’rally +delicate. I’d rather have a good dinner than a lickin’ any +time.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re afraid,” sneered Micky. “Isn’t he, +Jim?” +</p> + +<p> +“In course he is.” +</p> + +<p> +“P’r’aps I am,” said Dick, composedly, “but it +don’t trouble me much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want to fight?” demanded Micky, encouraged by Dick’s +quietness, fancying he was afraid to encounter him. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t,” said Dick. “I aint fond of +fightin’. It’s a very poor amusement, and very bad for the +complexion, ’specially for the eyes and nose, which is apt to turn red, +white, and blue.” +</p> + +<p> +Micky misunderstood Dick, and judged from the tenor of his speech that he would +be an easy victim. As he knew, Dick very seldom was concerned in any street +fight,—not from cowardice, as he imagined, but because he had too much +good sense to do so. Being quarrelsome, like all bullies, and supposing that he +was more than a match for our hero, being about two inches taller, he could no +longer resist an inclination to assault him, and tried to plant a blow in +Dick’s face which would have hurt him considerably if he had not drawn +back just in time. +</p> + +<p> +Now, though Dick was far from quarrelsome, he was ready to defend himself on +all occasions, and it was too much to expect that he would stand quiet and +allow himself to be beaten. +</p> + +<p> +He dropped his blacking-box on the instant, and returned Micky’s blow +with such good effect that the young bully staggered back, and would have +fallen, if he had not been propped up by his confederate, Limpy Jim. +</p> + +<p> +“Go in, Micky!” shouted the latter, who was rather a coward on his +own account, but liked to see others fight. “Polish him off, that’s +a good feller.” +</p> + +<p> +Micky was now boiling over with rage and fury, and required no urging. He was +fully determined to make a terrible example of poor Dick. He threw himself upon +him, and strove to bear him to the ground; but Dick, avoiding a close hug, in +which he might possibly have got the worst of it, by an adroit movement, +tripped up his antagonist, and stretched him on the side walk. +</p> + +<p> +“Hit him, Jim!” exclaimed Micky, furiously. +</p> + +<p> +Limpy Jim did not seem inclined to obey orders. There was a quiet strength and +coolness about Dick, which alarmed him. He preferred that Micky should incur +all the risks of battle, and accordingly set himself to raising his fallen +comrade. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Micky,” said Dick, quietly, “you’d better give +it up. I wouldn’t have touched you if you hadn’t hit me first. I +don’t want to fight. It’s low business.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re afraid of hurtin’ your clo’es,” said +Micky, with a sneer. +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe I am,” said Dick. “I hope I haven’t hurt +yours.” +</p> + +<p> +Micky’s answer to this was another attack, as violent and impetuous as +the first. But his fury was in the way. He struck wildly, not measuring his +blows, and Dick had no difficulty in turning aside, so that his +antagonist’s blow fell upon the empty air, and his momentum was such that +he nearly fell forward headlong. Dick might readily have taken advantage of his +unsteadiness, and knocked him down; but he was not vindictive, and chose to act +on the defensive, except when he could not avoid it. +</p> + +<p> +Recovering himself, Micky saw that Dick was a more formidable antagonist than +he had supposed, and was meditating another assault, better planned, which by +its impetuosity might bear our hero to the ground. But there was an +unlooked-for interference. +</p> + +<p> +“Look out for the ‘copp,’” said Jim, in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +Micky turned round and saw a tall policeman heading towards him, and thought it +might be prudent to suspend hostilities. He accordingly picked up his +black-box, and, hitching up his pants, walked off, attended by Limpy Jim. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that chap been doing?” asked the policeman of Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“He was amoosin’ himself by pitchin’ into me,” replied +Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“What for?” +</p> + +<p> +“He didn’t like it ’cause I patronized a different tailor +from him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it seems to me you <i>are</i> dressed pretty smart for a +boot-black,” said the policeman. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I wasn’t a boot-black,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, my lad. It’s an honest business,” said the +policeman, who was a sensible man and a worthy citizen. “It’s an +honest business. Stick to it till you get something better.” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean to,” said Dick. “It aint easy to get out of it, as +the prisoner remarked, when he was asked how he liked his residence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you don’t speak from experience.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick; “I don’t mean to get into prison if I +can help it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you see that gentleman over there?” asked the officer, pointing +to a well-dressed man who was walking on the other side of the street. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he was once a newsboy.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what is he now?” +</p> + +<p> +“He keeps a bookstore, and is quite prosperous.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick looked at the gentleman with interest, wondering if he should look as +respectable when he was a grown man. +</p> + +<p> +It will be seen that Dick was getting ambitious. Hitherto he had thought very +little of the future, but was content to get along as he could, dining as well +as his means would allow, and spending the evenings in the pit of the Old +Bowery, eating peanuts between the acts if he was prosperous, and if unlucky +supping on dry bread or an apple, and sleeping in an old box or a wagon. Now, +for the first time, he began to reflect that he could not black boots all his +life. In seven years he would be a man, and, since his meeting with Frank, he +felt that he would like to be a respectable man. He could see and appreciate +the difference between Frank and such a boy as Micky Maguire, and it was not +strange that he preferred the society of the former. +</p> + +<p> +In the course of the next morning, in pursuance of his new resolutions for the +future, he called at a savings bank, and held out four dollars in bills besides +another dollar in change. There was a high railing, and a number of clerks +busily writing at desks behind it. Dick, never having been in a bank before, +did not know where to go. He went, by mistake, to the desk where money was paid +out. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s your book?” asked the clerk. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t got any.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any money deposited here?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, I want to leave some here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then go to the next desk.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick followed directions, and presented himself before an elderly man with gray +hair, who looked at him over the rims of his spectacles. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to keep that for me,” said Dick, awkwardly emptying his +money out on the desk. +</p> + +<p> +“How much is there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Five dollars.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you got an account here?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you can write?” +</p> + +<p> +The “of course” was said on account of Dick’s neat dress. +</p> + +<p> +“Have I got to do any writing?” asked our hero, a little +embarrassed. +</p> + +<p> +“We want you to sign your name in this book,” and the old gentleman +shoved round a large folio volume containing the names of depositors. +</p> + +<p> +Dick surveyed the book with some awe. +</p> + +<p> +“I aint much on writin’,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; write as well as you can.” +</p> + +<p> +The pen was put into Dick’s hand, and, after dipping it in the inkstand, +he succeeded after a hard effort, accompanied by many contortions of the face, +in inscribing upon the book of the bank the name +</p> + +<p class="center"> +D<small>ICK</small> H<small>UNTER</small>. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick!—that means Richard, I suppose,” said the bank officer, +who had some difficulty in making out the signature. +</p> + +<p> +“No; Ragged Dick is what folks call me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t look very ragged.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’ve left my rags to home. They might get wore out if I used +’em too common.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my lad, I’ll make out a book in the name of Dick Hunter, +since you seem to prefer Dick to Richard. I hope you will save up your money +and deposit more with us.” +</p> + +<p> +Our hero took his bank-book, and gazed on the entry “Five Dollars” +with a new sense of importance. He had been accustomed to joke about Erie +shares, but now, for the first time, he felt himself a capitalist; on a small +scale, to be sure, but still it was no small thing for Dick to have five +dollars which he could call his own. He firmly determined that he would lay by +every cent he could spare from his earnings towards the fund he hoped to +accumulate. +</p> + +<p> +But Dick was too sensible not to know that there was something more than money +needed to win a respectable position in the world. He felt that he was very +ignorant. Of reading and writing he only knew the rudiments, and that, with a +slight acquaintance with arithmetic, was all he did know of books. Dick knew he +must study hard, and he dreaded it. He looked upon learning as attended with +greater difficulties than it really possesses. But Dick had good pluck. He +meant to learn, nevertheless, and resolved to buy a book with his first spare +earnings. +</p> + +<p> +When Dick went home at night he locked up his bank-book in one of the drawers +of the bureau. It was wonderful how much more independent he felt whenever he +reflected upon the contents of that drawer, and with what an important air of +joint ownership he regarded the bank building in which his small savings were +deposited. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br/> +DICK SECURES A TUTOR</h2> + +<p> +The next morning Dick was unusually successful, having plenty to do, and +receiving for one job twenty-five cents,—the gentleman refusing to take +change. Then flashed upon Dick’s mind the thought that he had not yet +returned the change due to the gentleman whose boots he had blacked on the +morning of his introduction to the reader. +</p> + +<p> +“What’ll he think of me?” said Dick to himself. “I hope +he won’t think I’m mean enough to keep the money.” +</p> + +<p> +Now Dick was scrupulously honest, and though the temptation to be otherwise had +often been strong, he had always resisted it. He was not willing on any account +to keep money which did not belong to him, and he immediately started for 125 +Fulton Street (the address which had been given him) where he found Mr. +Greyson’s name on the door of an office on the first floor. +</p> + +<p> +The door being open, Dick walked in. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Mr. Greyson in?” he asked of a clerk who sat on a high stool +before a desk. +</p> + +<p> +“Not just now. He’ll be in soon. Will you wait?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; take a seat then.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick sat down and took up the morning “Tribune,” but presently came +to a word of four syllables, which he pronounced to himself a +“sticker,” and laid it down. But he had not long to wait, for five +minutes later Mr. Greyson entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you wish to speak to me, my lad?” said he to Dick, whom in his +new clothes he did not recognize. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Dick. “I owe you some money.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” said Mr. Greyson, pleasantly; “that’s an +agreeable surprise. I didn’t know but you had come for some. So you are a +debtor of mine, and not a creditor?” +</p> + +<p> +“I b’lieve that’s right,” said Dick, drawing fifteen +cents from his pocket, and placing in Mr. Greyson’s hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Fifteen cents!” repeated he, in some surprise. “How do you +happen to be indebted to me in that amount?” +</p> + +<p> +“You gave me a quarter for a-shinin’ your boots, yesterday +mornin’, and couldn’t wait for the change. I meant to have brought +it before, but I forgot all about it till this mornin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“It had quite slipped my mind also. But you don’t look like the boy +I employed. If I remember rightly he wasn’t as well dressed as +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick. “I was dressed for a party, then, but the +clo’es was too well ventilated to be comfortable in cold weather.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re an honest boy,” said Mr. Greyson. “Who taught +you to be honest?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody,” said Dick. “But it’s mean to cheat and steal. +I’ve always knowed that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you’ve got ahead of some of our business men. Do you read the +Bible?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick. “I’ve heard it’s a good book, +but I don’t know much about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to go to some Sunday School. Would you be willing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick, promptly. “I want to grow up +’spectable. But I don’t know where to go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll tell you. The church I attend is at the corner of Fifth +Avenue and Twenty-first Street.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve seen it,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“I have a class in the Sunday School there. If you’ll come next +Sunday, I’ll take you into my class, and do what I can to help +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Dick, “but p’r’aps you’ll +get tired of teaching me. I’m awful ignorant.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my lad,” said Mr. Greyson, kindly. “You evidently have +some good principles to start with, as you have shown by your scorn of +dishonesty. I shall hope good things of you in the future.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Dick,” said our hero, apostrophizing himself, as he left the +office; “you’re gettin’ up in the world. You’ve got +money invested, and are goin’ to attend church, by partic’lar +invitation, on Fifth Avenue. I shouldn’t wonder much if you should find +cards, when you get home, from the Mayor, requestin’ the honor of your +company to dinner, along with other distinguished guests.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick felt in very good spirits. He seemed to be emerging from the world in +which he had hitherto lived, into a new atmosphere of respectability, and the +change seemed very pleasant to him. +</p> + +<p> +At six o’clock Dick went into a restaurant on Chatham Street, and got a +comfortable supper. He had been so successful during the day that, after paying +for this, he still had ninety cents left. While he was despatching his supper, +another boy came in, smaller and slighter than Dick, and sat down beside him. +Dick recognized him as a boy who three months before had entered the ranks of +the boot-blacks, but who, from a natural timidity, had not been able to earn +much. He was ill-fitted for the coarse companionship of the street boys, and +shrank from the rude jokes of his present associates. Dick had never troubled +him; for our hero had a certain chivalrous feeling which would not allow him to +bully or disturb a younger and weaker boy than himself. +</p> + +<p> +“How are you, Fosdick?” said Dick, as the other seated himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty well,” said Fosdick. “I suppose you’re all +right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, I’m right side up with care. I’ve been havin’ +a bully supper. What are you goin’ to have?” +</p> + +<p> +“Some bread and butter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you get a cup o’ coffee?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” said Fosdick, reluctantly, “I haven’t got money +enough to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” said Dick; “I’m in luck to-day, +I’ll stand treat.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s kind in you,” said Fosdick, gratefully. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, never mind that,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly he ordered a cup of coffee, and a plate of beefsteak, and was +gratified to see that his young companion partook of both with evident relish. +When the repast was over, the boys went out into the street together, Dick +pausing at the desk to settle for both suppers. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you going to sleep to-night, Fosdick?” asked Dick, as +they stood on the sidewalk. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” said Fosdick, a little sadly. “In some +doorway, I expect. But I’m afraid the police will find me out, and make +me move on.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you what,” said Dick, “you must go home with +me. I guess my bed will hold two.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you got a room?” asked the other, in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick, rather proudly, and with a little excusable +exultation. “I’ve got a room over in Mott Street; there I can +receive my friends. That’ll be better than sleepin’ in a +door-way,—won’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed it will,” said Fosdick. “How lucky I was to come +across you! It comes hard to me living as I do. When my father was alive I had +every comfort.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s more’n I ever had,” said Dick. “But +I’m goin’ to try to live comfortable now. Is your father +dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Fosdick, sadly. “He was a printer; but he was +drowned one dark night from a Fulton ferry-boat, and, as I had no relations in +the city, and no money, I was obliged to go to work as quick as I could. But I +don’t get on very well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t you have no brothers nor sisters?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Fosdick; “father and I used to live alone. He was +always so much company to me that I feel very lonesome without him. +There’s a man out West somewhere that owes him two thousand dollars. He +used to live in the city, and father lent him all his money to help him go into +business; but he failed, or pretended to, and went off. If father hadn’t +lost that money he would have left me well off; but no money would have made up +his loss to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the man’s name that went off with your father’s +money?” +</p> + +<p> +“His name is Hiram Bates.” +</p> + +<p> +“P’r’aps you’ll get the money again, sometime.” +</p> + +<p> +“There isn’t much chance of it,” said Fosdick. +“I’d sell out my chances of that for five dollars.” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe I’ll buy you out sometime,” said Dick. “Now, +come round and see what sort of a room I’ve got. I used to go to the +theatre evenings, when I had money; but now I’d rather go to bed early, +and have a good sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care much about theatres,” said Fosdick. +“Father didn’t use to let me go very often. He said it wasn’t +good for boys.” +</p> + +<p> +“I like to go to the Old Bowery sometimes. They have tip-top plays there. +Can you read and write well?” he asked, as a sudden thought came to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Fosdick. “Father always kept me at school when he +was alive, and I stood pretty well in my classes. I was expecting to enter at +the Free Academy* next year.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +* Now the college of the city of New York. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll tell you what,” said Dick; “I’ll make +a bargain with you. I can’t read much more’n a pig; and my +writin’ looks like hens’ tracks. I don’t want to grow up +knowin’ no more’n a four-year-old boy. If you’ll teach me +readin’ and writin’ evenin’s, you shall sleep in my room +every night. That’ll be better’n door-steps or old boxes, where +I’ve slept many a time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you in earnest?” said Fosdick, his face lighting up hopefully. +</p> + +<p> +“In course I am,” said Dick. “It’s fashionable for +young gentlemen to have private tootors to introduct ’em into the +flower-beds of literatoor and science, and why shouldn’t I foller the +fashion? You shall be my perfessor; only you must promise not to be very hard +if my writin’ looks like a rail-fence on a bender.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll try not to be too severe,” said Fosdick, laughing. +“I shall be thankful for such a chance to get a place to sleep. Have you +got anything to read out of?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick. “My extensive and well-selected library was +lost overboard in a storm, when I was sailin’ from the Sandwich Islands +to the desert of Sahara. But I’ll buy a paper. That’ll do me a long +time.” +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly Dick stopped at a paper-stand, and bought a copy of a weekly paper, +filled with the usual variety of reading matter,—stories, sketches, +poems, etc. +</p> + +<p> +They soon arrived at Dick’s lodging-house. Our hero, procuring a lamp +from the landlady, led the way into his apartment, which he entered with the +proud air of a proprietor. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, how do you like it, Fosdick?” he asked, complacently. +</p> + +<p> +The time was when Fosdick would have thought it untidy and not particularly +attractive. But he had served a severe apprenticeship in the streets, and it +was pleasant to feel himself under shelter, and he was not disposed to be +critical. +</p> + +<p> +“It looks very comfortable, Dick,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“The bed aint very large,” said Dick; “but I guess we can get +along.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” said Fosdick, cheerfully. “I don’t take up +much room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then that’s all right. There’s two chairs, you see, one for +you and one for me. In case the mayor comes in to spend the evenin’ +socially, he can sit on the bed.” +</p> + +<p> +The boys seated themselves, and five minutes later, under the guidance of his +young tutor, Dick had commenced his studies. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br/> +THE FIRST LESSON</h2> + +<p> +Fortunately for Dick, his young tutor was well qualified to instruct him. Henry +Fosdick, though only twelve years old, knew as much as many boys of fourteen. +He had always been studious and ambitious to excel. His father, being a +printer, employed in an office where books were printed, often brought home new +books in sheets, which Henry was always glad to read. Mr. Fosdick had been, +besides, a subscriber to the Mechanics’ Apprentices’ Library, which +contains many thousands of well-selected and instructive books. Thus Henry had +acquired an amount of general information, unusual in a boy of his age. Perhaps +he had devoted too much time to study, for he was not naturally robust. All +this, however, fitted him admirably for the office to which Dick had appointed +him,—that of his private instructor. +</p> + +<p> +The two boys drew up their chairs to the rickety table, and spread out the +paper before them. +</p> + +<p> +“The exercises generally Commence with ringin’ the bell,” +said Dick; “but as I aint got none, we’ll have to do +without.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the teacher is generally provided with a rod,” said Fosdick. +“Isn’t there a poker handy, that I can use in case my scholar +doesn’t behave well?” +</p> + +<p> +“’Taint lawful to use fire-arms,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Dick,” said Fosdick, “before we begin, I must find out +how much you already know. Can you read any?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not enough to hurt me,” said Dick. “All I know about +readin’ you could put in a nutshell, and there’d be room left for a +small family.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you know your letters?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick, “I know ’em all, but not intimately. +I guess I can call ’em all by name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you learn them? Did you ever go to school?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; I went two days.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you stop?” +</p> + +<p> +“It didn’t agree with my constitution.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t look very delicate,” said Fosdick. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick, “I aint troubled much that way; but I found +lickins didn’t agree with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you get punished?” +</p> + +<p> +“Awful,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“What for?” +</p> + +<p> +“For indulgin’ in a little harmless amoosement,” said Dick. +“You see the boy that was sittin’ next to me fell asleep, which I +considered improper in school-time; so I thought I’d help the teacher a +little by wakin’ him up. So I took a pin and stuck into him; but I guess +it went a little too far, for he screeched awful. The teacher found out what it +was that made him holler, and whipped me with a ruler till I was black and +blue. I thought ’twas about time to take a vacation; so that’s the +last time I went to school.” +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t learn to read in that time, of course?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick; “but I was a newsboy a little while; so I +learned a little, just so’s to find out what the news was. Sometimes I +didn’t read straight and called the wrong news. One mornin’ I asked +another boy what the paper said, and he told me the King of Africa was dead. I +thought it was all right till folks began to laugh.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Dick, if you’ll only study well, you won’t be liable +to make such mistakes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so,” said Dick. “My friend Horace Greeley told me the +other day that he’d get me to take his place now and then when he was off +makin’ speeches if my edication hadn’t been neglected.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must find a good piece for you to begin on,” said Fosdick, +looking over the paper. +</p> + +<p> +“Find an easy one,” said Dick, “with words of one +story.” +</p> + +<p> +Fosdick at length found a piece which he thought would answer. He discovered on +trial that Dick had not exaggerated his deficiencies. Words of two syllables he +seldom pronounced right, and was much surprised when he was told how +“through” was sounded. +</p> + +<p> +“Seems to me it’s throwin’ away letters to use all +them,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“How would you spell it?” asked his young teacher. +</p> + +<p> +“T-h-r-u,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Fosdick, “there’s a good many other words +that are spelt with more letters than they need to have. But it’s the +fashion, and we must follow it.” +</p> + +<p> +But if Dick was ignorant, he was quick, and had an excellent capacity. Moreover +he had perseverance, and was not easily discouraged. He had made up his mind he +must know more, and was not disposed to complain of the difficulty of his task. +Fosdick had occasion to laugh more than once at his ludicrous mistakes; but +Dick laughed too, and on the whole both were quite interested in the lesson. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of an hour and a half the boys stopped for the evening. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re learning fast, Dick,” said Fosdick. “At this +rate you will soon learn to read well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will I?” asked Dick with an expression of satisfaction. +“I’m glad of that. I don’t want to be ignorant. I +didn’t use to care, but I do now. I want to grow up +’spectable.” +</p> + +<p> +“So do I, Dick. We will both help each other, and I am sure we can +accomplish something. But I am beginning to feel sleepy.” +</p> + +<p> +“So am I,” said Dick. “Them hard words make my head ache. I +wonder who made ’em all?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s more than I can tell. I suppose you’ve seen a +dictionary.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s another of ’em. No, I can’t say I have, though +I may have seen him in the street without knowin’ him.” +</p> + +<p> +“A dictionary is a book containing all the words in the language.” +</p> + +<p> +“How many are there?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t rightly know; but I think there are about fifty +thousand.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a pretty large family,” said Dick. “Have I got to +learn ’em all?” +</p> + +<p> +“That will not be necessary. There are a large number which you would +never find occasion to use.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad of that,” said Dick; “for I don’t +expect to live to be more’n a hundred, and by that time I wouldn’t +be more’n half through.” +</p> + +<p> +By this time the flickering lamp gave a decided hint to the boys that unless +they made haste they would have to undress in the dark. They accordingly drew +off their clothes, and Dick jumped into bed. But Fosdick, before doing so, +knelt down by the side of the bed, and said a short prayer. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that for?” asked Dick, curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“I was saying my prayers,” said Fosdick, as he rose from his knees. +“Don’t you ever do it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick. “Nobody ever taught me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll teach you. Shall I?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” said Dick, dubiously. “What’s the +good?” +</p> + +<p> +Fosdick explained as well as he could, and perhaps his simple explanation was +better adapted to Dick’s comprehension than one from an older person +would have been. Dick felt more free to ask questions, and the example of his +new friend, for whom he was beginning to feel a warm attachment, had +considerable effect upon him. When, therefore, Fosdick asked again if he should +teach him a prayer, Dick consented, and his young bedfellow did so. Dick was +not naturally irreligious. If he had lived without a knowledge of God and of +religious things, it was scarcely to be wondered at in a lad who, from an early +age, had been thrown upon his own exertions for the means of living, with no +one to care for him or give him good advice. But he was so far good that he +could appreciate goodness in others, and this it was that had drawn him to +Frank in the first place, and now to Henry Fosdick. He did not, therefore, +attempt to ridicule his companion, as some boys better brought up might have +done, but was willing to follow his example in what something told him was +right. Our young hero had taken an important step toward securing that genuine +respectability which he was ambitious to attain. +</p> + +<p> +Weary with the day’s work, and Dick perhaps still more fatigued by the +unusual mental effort he had made, the boys soon sank into a deep and peaceful +slumber, from which they did not awaken till six o’clock the next +morning. Before going out Dick sought Mrs. Mooney, and spoke to her on the +subject of taking Fosdick as a room-mate. He found that she had no objection, +provided he would allow her twenty-five cents a week extra, in consideration of +the extra trouble which his companion might be expected to make. To this Dick +assented, and the arrangement was definitely concluded. +</p> + +<p> +This over, the two boys went out and took stations near each other. Dick had +more of a business turn than Henry, and less shrinking from publicity, so that +his earnings were greater. But he had undertaken to pay the entire expenses of +the room, and needed to earn more. Sometimes, when two customers presented +themselves at the same time, he was able to direct one to his friend. So at the +end of the week both boys found themselves with surplus earnings. Dick had the +satisfaction of adding two dollars and a half to his deposits in the Savings +Bank, and Fosdick commenced an account by depositing seventy-five cents. +</p> + +<p> +On Sunday morning Dick bethought himself of his promise to Mr. Greyson to come +to the church on Fifth Avenue. To tell the truth, Dick recalled it with some +regret. He had never been inside a church since he could remember, and he was +not much attracted by the invitation he had received. But Henry, finding him +wavering, urged him to go, and offered to go with him. Dick gladly accepted the +offer, feeling that he required someone to lend him countenance under such +unusual circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +Dick dressed himself with scrupulous care, giving his shoes a +“shine” so brilliant that it did him great credit in a professional +point of view, and endeavored to clean his hands thoroughly; but, in spite of +all he could do, they were not so white as if his business had been of a +different character. +</p> + +<p> +Having fully completed his preparations, he descended into the street, and, +with Henry by his side, crossed over to Broadway. +</p> + +<p> +The boys pursued their way up Broadway, which on Sunday presents a striking +contrast in its quietness to the noise and confusion of ordinary week-days, as +far as Union Square, then turned down Fourteenth Street, which brought them to +Fifth Avenue. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose we dine at Delmonico’s,” said Fosdick, looking +towards that famous restaurant. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d have to sell some of my Erie shares,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +A short walk now brought them to the church of which mention has already been +made. They stood outside, a little abashed, watching the fashionably attired +people who were entering, and were feeling a little undecided as to whether +they had better enter also, when Dick felt a light touch upon his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +Turning round, he met the smiling glance of Mr. Greyson. +</p> + +<p> +“So, my young friend, you have kept your promise,” he said. +“And whom have you brought with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“A friend of mine,” said Dick. “His name is Henry +Fosdick.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad you have brought him. Now follow me, and I will give you +seats.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br/> +DICK’S FIRST APPEARANCE IN SOCIETY</h2> + +<p> +It was the hour for morning service. The boys followed Mr. Greyson into the +handsome church, and were assigned seats in his own pew. +</p> + +<p> +There were two persons already seated in it,—a good-looking lady of +middle age, and a pretty little girl of nine. They were Mrs. Greyson and her +only daughter Ida. They looked pleasantly at the boys as they entered, smiling +a welcome to them. +</p> + +<p> +The morning service commenced. It must be acknowledged that Dick felt rather +awkward. It was an unusual place for him, and it need not be wondered at that +he felt like a cat in a strange garret. He would not have known when to rise if +he had not taken notice of what the rest of the audience did, and followed +their example. He was sitting next to Ida, and as it was the first time he had +ever been near so well-dressed a young lady, he naturally felt bashful. When +the hymns were announced, Ida found the place, and offered a hymn-book to our +hero. Dick took it awkwardly, but his studies had not yet been pursued far +enough for him to read the words readily. However, he resolved to keep up +appearances, and kept his eyes fixed steadily on the hymn-book. +</p> + +<p> +At length the service was over. The people began to file slowly out of church, +and among them, of course, Mr. Greyson’s family and the two boys. It +seemed very strange to Dick to find himself in such different companionship +from what he had been accustomed, and he could not help thinking, “Wonder +what Johnny Nolan ’ould say if he could see me now!” +</p> + +<p> +But Johnny’s business engagements did not often summon him to Fifth +Avenue, and Dick was not likely to be seen by any of his friends in the lower +part of the city. +</p> + +<p> +“We have our Sunday school in the afternoon,” said Mr. Greyson. +“I suppose you live at some distance from here?” +</p> + +<p> +“In Mott Street, sir,” answered Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“That is too far to go and return. Suppose you and your friend come and +dine with us, and then we can come here together in the afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick was as much astonished at this invitation as if he had really been invited +by the Mayor to dine with him and the Board of Aldermen. Mr. Greyson was +evidently a rich man, and yet he had actually invited two boot-blacks to dine +with him. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess we’d better go home, sir,” said Dick, hesitating. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you can have any very pressing engagements to +interfere with your accepting my invitation,” said Mr. Greyson, +good-humoredly, for he understood the reason of Dick’s hesitation. +“So I take it for granted that you both accept.” +</p> + +<p> +Before Dick fairly knew what he intended to do, he was walking down Fifth +Avenue with his new friends. +</p> + +<p> +Now, our young hero was not naturally bashful; but he certainly felt so now, +especially as Miss Ida Greyson chose to walk by his side, leaving Henry Fosdick +to walk with her father and mother. +</p> + +<p> +“What is your name?” asked Ida, pleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +Our hero was about to answer “Ragged Dick,” when it occurred to him +that in the present company he had better forget his old nickname. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick Hunter,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick!” repeated Ida. “That means Richard, doesn’t +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Everybody calls me Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have a cousin Dick,” said the young lady, sociably. “His +name is Dick Wilson. I suppose you don’t know him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“I like the name of Dick,” said the young lady, with charming +frankness. +</p> + +<p> +Without being able to tell why, Dick felt rather glad she did. He plucked up +courage to ask her name. +</p> + +<p> +“My name is Ida,” answered the young lady. “Do you like +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick. “It’s a bully name.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick turned red as soon as he had said it, for he felt that he had not used the +right expression. +</p> + +<p> +The little girl broke into a silvery laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“What a funny boy you are!” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t mean it,” said Dick, stammering. “I meant +it’s a tip-top name.” +</p> + +<p> +Here Ida laughed again, and Dick wished himself back in Mott Street. +</p> + +<p> +“How old are you?” inquired Ida, continuing her examination. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m fourteen,—goin’ on fifteen,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a big boy of your age,” said Ida. “My cousin +Dick is a year older than you, but he isn’t as large.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick looked pleased. Boys generally like to be told that they are large of +their age. +</p> + +<p> +“How old be you?” asked Dick, beginning to feel more at his ease. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m nine years old,” said Ida. “I go to Miss +Jarvis’s school. I’ve just begun to learn French. Do you know +French?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not enough to hurt me,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +Ida laughed again, and told him that he was a droll boy. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you like it?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“I like it pretty well, except the verbs. I can’t remember them +well. Do you go to school?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m studying with a private tutor,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you? So is my cousin Dick. He’s going to college this year. +Are you going to college?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not this year.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because, if you did, you know you’d be in the same class with my +cousin. It would be funny to have two Dicks in one class.” +</p> + +<p> +They turned down Twenty-fourth Street, passing the Fifth Avenue Hotel on the +left, and stopped before an elegant house with a brown stone front. The bell +was rung, and the door being opened, the boys, somewhat abashed, followed Mr. +Greyson into a handsome hall. They were told where to hang their hats, and a +moment afterwards were ushered into a comfortable dining-room, where a table +was spread for dinner. +</p> + +<p> +Dick took his seat on the edge of a sofa, and was tempted to rub his eyes to +make sure that he was really awake. He could hardly believe that he was a guest +in so fine a mansion. +</p> + +<p> +Ida helped to put the boys at their ease. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you like pictures?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Very much,” answered Henry. +</p> + +<p> +The little girl brought a book of handsome engravings, and, seating herself +beside Dick, to whom she seemed to have taken a decided fancy, commenced +showing them to him. +</p> + +<p> +“There are the Pyramids of Egypt,” she said, pointing to one +engraving. +</p> + +<p> +“What are they for?” asked Dick, puzzled. “I don’t see +any winders.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Ida, “I don’t believe anybody lives there. +Do they, papa?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my dear. They were used for the burial of the dead. The largest of +them is said to be the loftiest building in the world with one exception. The +spire of the Cathedral of Strasburg is twenty-four feet higher, if I remember +rightly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is Egypt near here?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, it’s ever so many miles off; about four or five hundred. +Didn’t you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick. “I never heard.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t appear to be very accurate in your information, +Ida,” said her mother. “Four or five thousand miles would be +considerably nearer the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +After a little more conversation they sat down to dinner. Dick seated himself +in an embarrassed way. He was very much afraid of doing or saying something +which would be considered an impropriety, and had the uncomfortable feeling +that everybody was looking at him, and watching his behavior. +</p> + +<p> +“Where do you live, Dick?” asked Ida, familiarly. +</p> + +<p> +“In Mott Street.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is that?” +</p> + +<p> +“More than a mile off.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it a nice street?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not very,” said Dick. “Only poor folks live there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you poor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Little girls should be seen and not heard,” said her mother, +gently. +</p> + +<p> +“If you are,” said Ida, “I’ll give you the five-dollar +gold-piece aunt gave me for a birthday present.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dick cannot be called poor, my child,” said Mrs. Greyson, +“since he earns his living by his own exertions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you earn your living?” asked Ida, who was a very inquisitive +young lady, and not easily silenced. “What do you do?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick blushed violently. At such a table, and in presence of the servant who was +standing at that moment behind his chair, he did not like to say that he was a +shoe-black, although he well knew that there was nothing dishonorable in the +occupation. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Greyson perceived his feelings, and to spare them, said, “You are too +inquisitive, Ida. Sometime Dick may tell you, but you know we don’t talk +of business on Sundays.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick in his embarrassment had swallowed a large spoonful of hot soup, which +made him turn red in the face. For the second time, in spite of the prospect of +the best dinner he had ever eaten, he wished himself back in Mott Street. Henry +Fosdick was more easy and unembarrassed than Dick, not having led such a +vagabond and neglected life. But it was to Dick that Ida chiefly directed her +conversation, having apparently taken a fancy to his frank and handsome face. I +believe I have already said that Dick was a very good-looking boy, especially +now since he kept his face clean. He had a frank, honest expression, which +generally won its way to the favor of those with whom he came in contact. +</p> + +<p> +Dick got along pretty well at the table by dint of noticing how the rest acted, +but there was one thing he could not manage, eating with his fork, which, by +the way, he thought a very singular arrangement. +</p> + +<p> +At length they arose from the table, somewhat to Dick’s relief. Again Ida +devoted herself to the boys, and exhibited a profusely illustrated Bible for +their entertainment. Dick was interested in looking at the pictures, though he +knew very little of their subjects. Henry Fosdick was much better informed, as +might have been expected. +</p> + +<p> +When the boys were about to leave the house with Mr. Greyson for the Sunday +school, Ida placed her hand in Dick’s, and said persuasively, +“You’ll come again, Dick, won’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Dick, “I’d like to,” and he +could not help thinking Ida the nicest girl he had ever seen. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Mrs. Greyson, hospitably, “we shall be glad to +see you both here again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you very much,” said Henry Fosdick, gratefully. “We +shall like very much to come.” +</p> + +<p> +I will not dwell upon the hour spent in Sunday school, nor upon the remarks of +Mr. Greyson to his class. He found Dick’s ignorance of religious subjects +so great that he was obliged to begin at the beginning with him. Dick was +interested in hearing the children sing, and readily promised to come again the +next Sunday. +</p> + +<p> +When the service was over Dick and Henry walked homewards. Dick could not help +letting his thoughts rest on the sweet little girl who had given him so cordial +a welcome, and hoping that he might meet her again. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Greyson is a nice man,—isn’t he, Dick?” asked +Henry, as they were turning into Mott Street, and were already in sight of +their lodging-house. +</p> + +<p> +“Aint he, though?” said Dick. “He treated us just as if we +were young gentlemen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ida seemed to take a great fancy to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s a tip-top girl,” said Dick, “but she asked so +many questions that I didn’t know what to say.” +</p> + +<p> +He had scarcely finished speaking, when a stone whizzed by his head, and, +turning quickly, he saw Micky Maguire running round the corner of the street +which they had just passed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br/> +MICKY MAGUIRE’S SECOND DEFEAT</h2> + +<p> +Dick was no coward. Nor was he in the habit of submitting passively to an +insult. When, therefore, he recognized Micky as his assailant, he instantly +turned and gave chase. Micky anticipated pursuit, and ran at his utmost speed. +It is doubtful if Dick would have overtaken him, but Micky had the ill luck to +trip just as he had entered a narrow alley, and, falling with some violence, +received a sharp blow from the hard stones, which made him scream with pain. +</p> + +<p> +“Ow!” he whined. “Don’t you hit a feller when +he’s down.” +</p> + +<p> +“What made you fire that stone at me?” demanded our hero, looking +down at the fallen bully. +</p> + +<p> +“Just for fun,” said Micky. +</p> + +<p> +“It would have been a very agreeable s’prise if it had hit +me,” said Dick. “S’posin’ I fire a rock at you jest for +fun.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t!” exclaimed Micky, in alarm. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems you don’t like agreeable s’prises,” said +Dick, “any more’n the man did what got hooked by a cow one +mornin’, before breakfast. It didn’t improve his appetite +much.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve most broke my arm,” said Micky, ruefully, rubbing the +affected limb. +</p> + +<p> +“If it’s broke you can’t fire no more stones, which is a very +cheerin’ reflection,” said Dick. “Ef you haven’t money +enough to buy a wooden one I’ll lend you a quarter. There’s one +good thing about wooden ones, they aint liable to get cold in winter, which is +another cheerin’ reflection.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want none of yer cheerin’ reflections,” said +Micky, sullenly. “Yer company aint wanted here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you for your polite invitation to leave,” said Dick, bowing +ceremoniously. “I’m willin’ to go, but ef you throw any more +stones at me, Micky Maguire, I’ll hurt you worse than the stones +did.” +</p> + +<p> +The only answer made to this warning was a scowl from his fallen opponent. It +was quite evident that Dick had the best of it, and he thought it prudent to +say nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“As I’ve got a friend waitin’ outside, I shall have to tear +myself away,” said Dick. “You’d better not throw any more +stones, Micky Maguire, for it don’t seem to agree with your +constitution.” +</p> + +<p> +Micky muttered something which Dick did not stay to hear. He backed out of the +alley, keeping a watchful eye on his fallen foe, and rejoined Henry Fosdick, +who was awaiting his return. +</p> + +<p> +“Who was it, Dick?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“A partic’lar friend of mine, Micky Maguire,” said Dick. +“He playfully fired a rock at my head as a mark of his ’fection. He +loves me like a brother, Micky does.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather a dangerous kind of a friend, I should think,” said +Fosdick. “He might have killed you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve warned him not to be so ’fectionate another +time,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“I know him,” said Henry Fosdick. “He’s at the head of +a gang of boys living at the Five-Points. He threatened to whip me once because +a gentleman employed me to black his boots instead of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s been at the Island two or three times for stealing,” +said Dick. “I guess he won’t touch me again. He’d rather get +hold of small boys. If he ever does anything to you, Fosdick, just let me know, +and I’ll give him a thrashing.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick was right. Micky Maguire was a bully, and like most bullies did not fancy +tackling boys whose strength was equal or superior to his own. Although he +hated Dick more than ever, because he thought our hero was putting on airs, he +had too lively a remembrance of his strength and courage to venture upon +another open attack. He contented himself, therefore, whenever he met Dick, +with scowling at him. Dick took this very philosophically, remarking that, +“if it was soothin’ to Micky’s feelings, he might go ahead, +as it didn’t hurt him much.” +</p> + +<p> +It will not be necessary to chronicle the events of the next few weeks. A new +life had commenced for Dick. He no longer haunted the gallery of the Old +Bowery; and even Tony Pastor’s hospitable doors had lost their old +attractions. He spent two hours every evening in study. His progress was +astonishingly rapid. He was gifted with a natural quickness; and he was +stimulated by the desire to acquire a fair education as a means of +“growin’ up ’spectable,” as he termed it. Much was due +also to the patience and perseverance of Henry Fosdick, who made a capital +teacher. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re improving wonderfully, Dick,” said his friend, one +evening, when Dick had read an entire paragraph without a mistake. +</p> + +<p> +“Am I?” said Dick, with satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. If you’ll buy a writing-book to-morrow, we can begin writing +to-morrow evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“What else do you know, Henry?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Arithmetic, and geography, and grammar.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a lot you know!” said Dick, admiringly. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t <i>know</i> any of them,” said Fosdick. +“I’ve only studied them. I wish I knew a great deal more.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be satisfied when I know as much as you,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems a great deal to you now, Dick, but in a few months you’ll +think differently. The more you know, the more you’ll want to +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then there aint any end to learnin’?” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Dick, “I guess I’ll be as much as sixty +before I know everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; as old as that, probably,” said Fosdick, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Anyway, you know too much to be blackin’ boots. Leave that to +ignorant chaps like me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t be ignorant long, Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’d ought to get into some office or countin’-room.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I could,” said Fosdick, earnestly. “I don’t +succeed very well at blacking boots. You make a great deal more than I +do.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s cause I aint troubled with bashfulness,” said Dick. +“Bashfulness aint as natural to me as it is to you. I’m always on +hand, as the cat said to the milk. You’d better give up shines, Fosdick, +and give your ’tention to mercantile pursuits.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve thought of trying to get a place,” said Fosdick; +“but no one would take me with these clothes;” and he directed his +glance to his well-worn suit, which he kept as neat as he could, but which, in +spite of all his care, began to show decided marks of use. There was also here +and there a stain of blacking upon it, which, though an advertisement of his +profession, scarcely added to its good appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“I almost wanted to stay at home from Sunday school last Sunday,” +he continued, “because I thought everybody would notice how dirty and +worn my clothes had got to be.” +</p> + +<p> +“If my clothes wasn’t two sizes too big for you,” said Dick, +generously, “I’d change. You’d look as if you’d got +into your great-uncle’s suit by mistake.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re very kind, Dick, to think of changing,” said Fosdick, +“for your suit is much better than mine; but I don’t think that +mine would suit you very well. The pants would show a little more of your +ankles than is the fashion, and you couldn’t eat a very hearty dinner +without bursting the buttons off the vest.” +</p> + +<p> +“That wouldn’t be very convenient,” said Dick. “I aint +fond of lacin’ to show my elegant figger. But I say,” he added with +a sudden thought, “how much money have we got in the savings’ +bank?” +</p> + +<p> +Fosdick took a key from his pocket, and went to the drawer in which the +bank-books were kept, and, opening it, brought them out for inspection. +</p> + +<p> +It was found that Dick had the sum of eighteen dollars and ninety cents placed +to his credit, while Fosdick had six dollars and forty-five cents. To explain +the large difference, it must be remembered that Dick had deposited five +dollars before Henry deposited anything, being the amount he had received as a +gift from Mr. Whitney. +</p> + +<p> +“How much does that make, the lot of it?” asked Dick. “I aint +much on figgers yet, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“It makes twenty-five dollars and thirty-five cents, Dick,” said +his companion, who did not understand the thought which suggested the question. +</p> + +<p> +“Take it, and buy some clothes, Henry,” said Dick, shortly. +</p> + +<p> +“What, your money too?” +</p> + +<p> +“In course.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Dick, you are too generous. I couldn’t think of it. Almost +three-quarters of the money is yours. You must spend it on yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t need it,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“You may not need it now, but you will some time.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall have some more then.” +</p> + +<p> +“That may be; but it wouldn’t be fair for me to use your money, +Dick. I thank you all the same for your kindness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ll lend it to you, then,” persisted Dick, “and +you can pay me when you get to be a rich merchant.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it isn’t likely I ever shall be one.” +</p> + +<p> +“How d’you know? I went to a fortun’ teller once, and she +told me I was born under a lucky star with a hard name, and I should have a +rich man for my particular friend, who would make my fortun’. I guess you +are going to be the rich man.” +</p> + +<p> +Fosdick laughed, and steadily refused for some time to avail himself of +Dick’s generous proposal; but at length, perceiving that our hero seemed +much disappointed, and would be really glad if his offer were accepted, he +agreed to use as much as might be needful. +</p> + +<p> +This at once brought back Dick’s good-humor, and he entered with great +enthusiasm into his friend’s plans. +</p> + +<p> +The next day they withdrew the money from the bank, and, when business got a +little slack, in the afternoon set out in search of a clothing store. Dick knew +enough of the city to be able to find a place where a good bargain could be +obtained. He was determined that Fosdick should have a good serviceable suit, +even if it took all the money they had. The result of their search was that for +twenty-three dollars Fosdick obtained a very neat outfit, including a couple of +shirts, a hat, and a pair of shoes, besides a dark mixed suit, which appeared +stout and of good quality. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I send the bundle home?” asked the salesman, impressed by +the off-hand manner in which Dick drew out the money in payment for the +clothes. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Dick, “you’re very kind, but +I’ll take it home myself, and you can allow me something for my +trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said the clerk, laughing; “I’ll allow it +on your next purchase.” +</p> + +<p> +Proceeding to their apartment in Mott Street, Fosdick at once tried on his new +suit, and it was found to be an excellent fit. Dick surveyed his new friend +with much satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“You look like a young gentleman of fortun’,” he said, +“and do credit to your governor.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose that means you, Dick,” said Fosdick, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“In course it does.” +</p> + +<p> +“You should say <i>of</i> course,” said Fosdick, who, in virtue of +his position as Dick’s tutor, ventured to correct his language from time +to time. +</p> + +<p> +“How dare you correct your gov’nor?” said Dick, with comic +indignation. “‘I’ll cut you off with a shillin’, you +young dog,’ as the Markis says to his nephew in the play at the Old +Bowery.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br/> +FOSDICK CHANGES HIS BUSINESS</h2> + +<p> +Fosdick did not venture to wear his new clothes while engaged in his business. +This he felt would have been wasteful extravagance. About ten o’clock in +the morning, when business slackened, he went home, and dressing himself went +to a hotel where he could see copies of the “Morning Herald” and +“Sun,” and, noting down the places where a boy was wanted, went on +a round of applications. But he found it no easy thing to obtain a place. +Swarms of boys seemed to be out of employment, and it was not unusual to find +from fifty to a hundred applicants for a single place. +</p> + +<p> +There was another difficulty. It was generally desired that the boy wanted +should reside with his parents. When Fosdick, on being questioned, revealed the +fact of his having no parents, and being a boy of the street, this was +generally sufficient of itself to insure a refusal. Merchants were afraid to +trust one who had led such a vagabond life. Dick, who was always ready for an +emergency, suggested borrowing a white wig, and passing himself off for +Fosdick’s father or grandfather. But Henry thought this might be rather a +difficult character for our hero to sustain. After fifty applications and as +many failures, Fosdick began to get discouraged. There seemed to be no way out +of his present business, for which he felt unfitted. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know but I shall have to black boots all my life,” +he said, one day, despondently, to Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep a stiff upper lip,” said Dick. “By the time you get to +be a gray-headed veteran, you may get a chance to run errands for some big firm +on the Bowery, which is a very cheerin’ reflection.” +</p> + +<p> +So Dick by his drollery and perpetual good spirits kept up Fosdick’s +courage. +</p> + +<p> +“As for me,” said Dick, “I expect by that time to lay up a +colossal fortun’ out of shines, and live in princely style on the +Avenoo.” +</p> + +<p> +But one morning, Fosdick, straying into French’s Hotel, discovered the +following advertisement in the columns of “The Herald,”— +</p> + +<p> +“WANTED—A smart, capable boy to run errands, and make himself +generally useful in a hat and cap store. Salary three dollars a week at first. +Inquire at No. — Broadway, after ten o’clock, A.M.” +</p> + +<p> +He determined to make application, and, as the City Hall clock just then struck +the hour indicated, lost no time in proceeding to the store, which was only a +few blocks distant from the Astor House. It was easy to find the store, as from +a dozen to twenty boys were already assembled in front of it. They surveyed +each other askance, feeling that they were rivals, and mentally calculating +each other’s chances. +</p> + +<p> +“There isn’t much chance for me,” said Fosdick to Dick, who +had accompanied him. “Look at all these boys. Most of them have good +homes, I suppose, and good recommendations, while I have nobody to refer +to.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go ahead,” said Dick. “Your chance is as good as +anybody’s.” +</p> + +<p> +While this was passing between Dick and his companion, one of the boys, a +rather supercilious-looking young gentleman, genteelly dressed, and evidently +having a very high opinion of his dress and himself turned suddenly to Dick, +and remarked,— +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve seen you before.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, have you?” said Dick, whirling round; “then +p’r’aps you’d like to see me behind.” +</p> + +<p> +At this unexpected answer all the boys burst into a laugh with the exception of +the questioner, who, evidently, considered that Dick had been disrespectful. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve seen you somewhere,” he said, in a surly tone, +correcting himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Most likely you have,” said Dick. “That’s where I +generally keep myself.” +</p> + +<p> +There was another laugh at the expense of Roswell Crawford, for that was the +name of the young aristocrat. But he had his revenge ready. No boy relishes +being an object of ridicule, and it was with a feeling of satisfaction that he +retorted,— +</p> + +<p> +“I know you for all your impudence. You’re nothing but a +boot-black.” +</p> + +<p> +This information took the boys who were standing around by surprise, for Dick +was well-dressed, and had none of the implements of his profession with him. +</p> + +<p> +“S’pose I be,” said Dick. “Have you got any +objection?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all,” said Roswell, curling his lip; “only +you’d better stick to blacking boots, and not try to get into a +store.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you for your kind advice,” said Dick. “Is it +gratooitous, or do you expect to be paid for it?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re an impudent fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a very cheerin’ reflection,” said Dick, +good-naturedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you expect to get this place when there’s gentlemen’s +sons applying for it? A boot-black in a store! That would be a good +joke.” +</p> + +<p> +Boys as well as men are selfish, and, looking upon Dick as a possible rival, +the boys who listened seemed disposed to take the same view of the situation. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I say,” said one of them, taking sides with +Roswell. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t trouble yourselves,” said Dick. “I aint +agoin’ to cut you out. I can’t afford to give up a independent and +loocrative purfession for a salary of three dollars a week.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hear him talk!” said Roswell Crawford, with an unpleasant sneer. +“If you are not trying to get the place, what are you here for?” +</p> + +<p> +“I came with a friend of mine,” said Dick, indicating Fosdick, +“who’s goin’ in for the situation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he a boot-black, too?” demanded Roswell, superciliously. +</p> + +<p> +“He!” retorted Dick, loftily. “Didn’t you know his +father was a member of Congress, and intimately acquainted with all the biggest +men in the State?” +</p> + +<p> +The boys surveyed Fosdick as if they did not quite know whether to credit this +statement, which, for the credit of Dick’s veracity, it will be observed +he did not assert, but only propounded in the form of a question. There was no +time for comment, however, as just then the proprietor of the store came to the +door, and, casting his eyes over the waiting group, singled out Roswell +Crawford, and asked him to enter. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my lad, how old are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fourteen years old,” said Roswell, consequentially. +</p> + +<p> +“Are your parents living?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only my mother. My father is dead. He was a gentleman,” he added, +complacently. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, was he?” said the shop-keeper. “Do you live in the +city?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir. In Clinton Place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you ever been in a situation before?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Roswell, a little reluctantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Where was it?” +</p> + +<p> +“In an office on Dey Street.” +</p> + +<p> +“How long were you there?” +</p> + +<p> +“A week.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me that was a short time. Why did you not stay +longer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because,” said Roswell, loftily, “the man wanted me to get +to the office at eight o’clock, and make the fire. I’m a +gentleman’s son, and am not used to such dirty work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” said the shop-keeper. “Well, young gentleman, you +may step aside a few minutes. I will speak with some of the other boys before +making my selection.” +</p> + +<p> +Several other boys were called in and questioned. Roswell stood by and listened +with an air of complacency. He could not help thinking his chances the best. +“The man can see I’m a gentleman, and will do credit to his +store,” he thought. +</p> + +<p> +At length it came to Fosdick’s turn. He entered with no very sanguine +anticipations of success. Unlike Roswell, he set a very low estimate upon his +qualifications when compared with those of other applicants. But his modest +bearing, and quiet, gentlemanly manner, entirely free from pretension, +prepossessed the shop-keeper, who was a sensible man, in his favor. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you reside in the city?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Henry. +</p> + +<p> +“What is your age?” +</p> + +<p> +“Twelve.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you ever been in any situation?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to see a specimen of your handwriting. Here, take the pen +and write your name.” +</p> + +<p> +Henry Fosdick had a very handsome handwriting for a boy of his age, while +Roswell, who had submitted to the same test, could do little more than scrawl. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you reside with your parents?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, they are dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where do you live, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“In Mott Street.” +</p> + +<p> +Roswell curled his lip when this name was pronounced, for Mott Street, as my +New York readers know, is in the immediate neighborhood of the Five-Points, and +very far from a fashionable locality. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any testimonials to present?” asked Mr. Henderson, for +that was his name. +</p> + +<p> +Fosdick hesitated. This was the question which he had foreseen would give him +trouble. +</p> + +<p> +But at this moment it happened most opportunely that Mr. Greyson entered the +shop with the intention of buying a hat. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Fosdick, promptly; “I will refer to this +gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, Fosdick?” asked Mr. Greyson, noticing him for the +first time. “How do you happen to be here?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am applying for a place, sir,” said Fosdick. “May I refer +the gentleman to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, I shall be glad to speak a good word for you. Mr. Henderson, +this is a member of my Sunday-school class, of whose good qualities and good +abilities I can speak confidently.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will be sufficient,” said the shop-keeper, who knew Mr. +Greyson’s high character and position. “He could have no better +recommendation. You may come to the store to-morrow morning at half past seven +o’clock. The pay will be three dollars a week for the first six months. +If I am satisfied with you, I shall then raise it to five dollars.” +</p> + +<p> +The other boys looked disappointed, but none more so than Roswell Crawford. He +would have cared less if any one else had obtained the situation; but for a boy +who lived in Mott Street to be preferred to him, a gentleman’s son, he +considered indeed humiliating. In a spirit of petty spite, he was tempted to +say, +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a boot-black. Ask him if he isn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s an honest and intelligent lad,” said Mr. Greyson. +“As for you, young man, I only hope you have one-half his good +qualities.” +</p> + +<p> +Roswell Crawford left the store in disgust, and the other unsuccessful +applicants with him. +</p> + +<p> +“What luck, Fosdick?” asked Dick, eagerly, as his friend came out +of the store. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got the place,” said Fosdick, in accents of +satisfaction; “but it was only because Mr. Greyson spoke up for +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a trump,” said Dick, enthusiastically. +</p> + +<p> +The gentleman, so denominated, came out before the boys went away, and spoke +with them kindly. +</p> + +<p> +Both Dick and Henry were highly pleased at the success of the application. The +pay would indeed be small, but, expended economically, Fosdick thought he could +get along on it, receiving his room rent, as before, in return for his services +as Dick’s private tutor. Dick determined, as soon as his education would +permit, to follow his companion’s example. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know as you’ll be willin’ to room with a +boot-black,” he said, to Henry, “now you’re goin’ into +business.” +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t room with a better friend, Dick,” said Fosdick, +affectionately, throwing his arm round our hero. “When we part, +it’ll be because you wish it.” +</p> + +<p> +So Fosdick entered upon a new career. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br/> +NINE MONTHS LATER</h2> + +<p> +The next morning Fosdick rose early, put on his new suit, and, after getting +breakfast, set out for the Broadway store in which he had obtained a position. +He left his little blacking-box in the room. +</p> + +<p> +“It’ll do to brush my own shoes,” he said. “Who knows +but I may have to come back to it again?” +</p> + +<p> +“No danger,” said Dick; “I’ll take care of the feet, +and you’ll have to look after the heads, now you’re in a +hat-store.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you had a place too,” said Fosdick. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know enough yet,” said Dick. “Wait till +I’ve gradooated.” +</p> + +<p> +“And can put A.B. after your name.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” +</p> + +<p> +“It stands for Bachelor of Arts. It’s a degree that students get +when they graduate from college.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said Dick, “I didn’t know but it meant A +Boot-black. I can put that after my name now. Wouldn’t Dick Hunter, A.B., +sound tip-top?” +</p> + +<p> +“I must be going,” said Fosdick. “It won’t do for me to +be late the very first morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the difference between you and me,” said Dick. +“I’m my own boss, and there aint no one to find fault with me if +I’m late. But I might as well be goin’ too. There’s a gent as +comes down to his store pretty early that generally wants a shine.” +</p> + +<p> +The two boys parted at the Park. Fosdick crossed it, and proceeded to the +hat-store, while Dick, hitching up his pants, began to look about him for a +customer. It was seldom that Dick had to wait long. He was always on the alert, +and if there was any business to do he was always sure to get his share of it. +He had now a stronger inducement than ever to attend strictly to business; his +little stock of money in the savings bank having been nearly exhausted by his +liberality to his room-mate. He determined to be as economical as possible, and +moreover to study as hard as he could, that he might be able to follow +Fosdick’s example, and obtain a place in a store or counting-room. As +there were no striking incidents occurring in our hero’s history within +the next nine months, I propose to pass over that period, and recount the +progress he made in that time. +</p> + +<p> +Fosdick was still at the hat-store, having succeeded in giving perfect +satisfaction to Mr. Henderson. His wages had just been raised to five dollars a +week. He and Dick still kept house together at Mrs. Mooney’s +lodging-house, and lived very frugally, so that both were able to save up +money. Dick had been unusually successful in business. He had several regular +patrons, who had been drawn to him by his ready wit, and quick humor, and from +two of them he had received presents of clothing, which had saved him any +expense on that score. His income had averaged quite seven dollars a week in +addition to this. Of this amount he was now obliged to pay one dollar weekly +for the room which he and Fosdick occupied, but he was still able to save one +half the remainder. At the end of nine months therefore, or thirty-nine weeks, +it will be seen that he had accumulated no less a sum than one hundred and +seventeen dollars. Dick may be excused for feeling like a capitalist when he +looked at the long row of deposits in his little bank-book. There were other +boys in the same business who had earned as much money, but they had had little +care for the future, and spent as they went along, so that few could boast a +bank-account, however small. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll be a rich man some time, Dick,” said Henry Fosdick, +one evening. +</p> + +<p> +“And live on Fifth Avenoo,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps so. Stranger things have happened.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Dick, “if such a misfortin’ should come +upon me I should bear it like a man. When you see a Fifth Avenoo manshun for +sale for a hundred and seventeen dollars, just let me know and I’ll buy +it as an investment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Two hundred and fifty years ago you might have bought one for that +price, probably. Real estate wasn’t very high among the Indians.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just my luck,” said Dick; “I was born too late. I’d +orter have been an Indian, and lived in splendor on my present capital.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid you’d have found your present business rather +unprofitable at that time.” +</p> + +<p> +But Dick had gained something more valuable than money. He had studied +regularly every evening, and his improvement had been marvellous. He could now +read well, write a fair hand, and had studied arithmetic as far as Interest. +Besides this he had obtained some knowledge of grammar and geography. If some +of my boy readers, who have been studying for years, and got no farther than +this, should think it incredible that Dick, in less than a year, and studying +evenings only, should have accomplished it, they must remember that our hero +was very much in earnest in his desire to improve. He knew that, in order to +grow up respectable, he must be well advanced, and he was willing to work. But +then the reader must not forget that Dick was naturally a smart boy. His street +education had sharpened his faculties, and taught him to rely upon himself. He +knew that it would take him a long time to reach the goal which he had set +before him, and he had patience to keep on trying. He knew that he had only +himself to depend upon, and he determined to make the most of himself,—a +resolution which is the secret of success in nine cases out of ten. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick,” said Fosdick, one evening, after they had completed their +studies, “I think you’ll have to get another teacher soon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” asked Dick, in some surprise. “Have you been offered a +more loocrative position?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Fosdick, “but I find I have taught you all I know +myself. You are now as good a scholar as I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that true?” said Dick, eagerly, a flush of gratification +coloring his brown cheek. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Fosdick. “You’ve made wonderful progress. I +propose, now that evening schools have begun, that we join one, and study +together through the winter.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said Dick. “I’d be willin’ to go +now; but when I first began to study I was ashamed to have anybody know that I +was so ignorant. Do you really mean, Fosdick, that I know as much as +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Dick, it’s true.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ve got you to thank for it,” said Dick, earnestly. +“You’ve made me what I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“And haven’t you paid me, Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“By payin’ the room-rent,” said Dick, impulsively. +“What’s that? It isn’t half enough. I wish you’d take +half my money; you deserve it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, Dick, but you’re too generous. You’ve more than +paid me. Who was it took my part when all the other boys imposed upon me? And +who gave me money to buy clothes, and so got me my situation?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s nothing!” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a great deal, Dick. I shall never forget it. But now it seems +to me you might try to get a situation yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do I know enough?” +</p> + +<p> +“You know as much as I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll try,” said Dick, decidedly. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish there was a place in our store,” said Fosdick. “It +would be pleasant for us to be together.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” said Dick; “there’ll be plenty of other +chances. P’r’aps A. T. Stewart might like a partner. I +wouldn’t ask more’n a quarter of the profits.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which would be a very liberal proposal on your part,” said +Fosdick, smiling. “But perhaps Mr. Stewart might object to a partner +living on Mott Street.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d just as lieves move to Fifth Avenoo,” said Dick. +“I aint got no prejudices in favor of Mott Street.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor I,” said Fosdick, “and in fact I have been thinking it +might be a good plan for us to move as soon as we could afford. Mrs. Mooney +doesn’t keep the room quite so neat as she might.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick. “She aint got no prejudices against dirt. +Look at that towel.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick held up the article indicated, which had now seen service nearly a week, +and hard service at that,—Dick’s avocation causing him to be rather +hard on towels. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Fosdick, “I’ve got about tired of it. I +guess we can find some better place without having to pay much more. When we +move, you must let me pay my share of the rent.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll see about that,” said Dick. “Do you propose to +move to Fifth Avenoo?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not just at present, but to some more agreeable neighborhood than this. +We’ll wait till you get a situation, and then we can decide.” +</p> + +<p> +A few days later, as Dick was looking about for customers in the neighborhood +of the Park, his attention was drawn to a fellow boot-black, a boy about a year +younger than himself, who appeared to have been crying. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter, Tom?” asked Dick. “Haven’t +you had luck to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty good,” said the boy; “but we’re havin’ +hard times at home. Mother fell last week and broke her arm, and to-morrow +we’ve got to pay the rent, and if we don’t the landlord says +he’ll turn us out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Haven’t you got anything except what you earn?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Tom, “not now. Mother used to earn three or four +dollars a week; but she can’t do nothin’ now, and my little sister +and brother are too young.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick had quick sympathies. He had been so poor himself, and obliged to submit +to so many privations that he knew from personal experience how hard it was. +Tom Wilkins he knew as an excellent boy who never squandered his money, but +faithfully carried it home to his mother. In the days of his own extravagance +and shiftlessness he had once or twice asked Tom to accompany him to the Old +Bowery or Tony Pastor’s, but Tom had always steadily refused. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry for you, Tom,” he said. “How much do you owe +for rent?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two weeks now,” said Tom. +</p> + +<p> +“How much is it a week?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two dollars a week—that makes four.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you got anything towards it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I’ve had to spend all my money for food for mother and the +rest of us. I’ve had pretty hard work to do that. I don’t know what +we’ll do. I haven’t any place to go to, and I’m afraid +mother’ll get cold in her arm.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t you borrow the money somewhere?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +Tom shook his head despondingly. +</p> + +<p> +“All the people I know are as poor as I am,” said he. +“They’d help me if they could, but it’s hard work for them to +get along themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you what, Tom,” said Dick, impulsively, +“I’ll stand your friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you got any money?” asked Tom, doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Got any money!” repeated Dick. “Don’t you know that I +run a bank on my own account? How much is it you need?” +</p> + +<p> +“Four dollars,” said Tom. “If we don’t pay that before +to-morrow night, out we go. You haven’t got as much as that, have +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here are three dollars,” said Dick, drawing out his pocket-book. +“I’ll let you have the rest to-morrow, and maybe a little +more.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a right down good fellow, Dick,” said Tom; “but +won’t you want it yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’ve got some more,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe I’ll never be able to pay you.” +</p> + +<p> +“S’pose you don’t,” said Dick; “I guess I +won’t fail.” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t forget it, Dick. I hope I’ll be able to do +somethin’ for you sometime.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said Dick. “I’d ought to help you. I +haven’t got no mother to look out for. I wish I had.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a tinge of sadness in his tone, as he pronounced the last four words; +but Dick’s temperament was sanguine, and he never gave way to unavailing +sadness. Accordingly he began to whistle as he turned away, only adding, +“I’ll see you to-morrow, Tom.” +</p> + +<p> +The three dollars which Dick had handed to Tom Wilkins were his savings for the +present week. It was now Thursday afternoon. His rent, which amounted to a +dollar, he expected to save out of the earnings of Friday and Saturday. In +order to give Tom the additional assistance he had promised, Dick would be +obliged to have recourse to his bank-savings. He would not have ventured to +trench upon it for any other reason but this. But he felt that it would be +selfish to allow Tom and his mother to suffer when he had it in his power to +relieve them. But Dick was destined to be surprised, and that in a disagreeable +manner, when he reached home. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>CHAPTER XXI.<br/> +DICK LOSES HIS BANK-BOOK</h2> + +<p> +It was hinted at the close of the last chapter that Dick was destined to be +disagreeably surprised on reaching home. +</p> + +<p> +Having agreed to give further assistance to Tom Wilkins, he was naturally led +to go to the drawer where he and Fosdick kept their bank-books. To his surprise +and uneasiness <i>the drawer proved to be empty!</i> +</p> + +<p> +“Come here a minute, Fosdick,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter, Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t find my bank-book, nor yours either. What’s +’come of them?” +</p> + +<p> +“I took mine with me this morning, thinking I might want to put in a +little more money. I’ve got it in my pocket, now.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where’s mine?” asked Dick, perplexed. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. I saw it in the drawer when I took mine this +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, positive, for I looked into it to see how much you had got.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you lock it again?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; didn’t you have to unlock it just now?” +</p> + +<p> +“So I did,” said Dick. “But it’s gone now. Somebody +opened it with a key that fitted the lock, and then locked it +ag’in.” +</p> + +<p> +“That must have been the way.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s rather hard on a feller,” said Dick, who, for the first +time since we became acquainted with him, began to feel down-hearted. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t give it up, Dick. You haven’t lost the money, only the +bank-book.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aint that the same thing?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. You can go to the bank to-morrow morning, as soon as it opens, and +tell them you have lost the book, and ask them not to pay the money to any one +except yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I can,” said Dick, brightening up. “That is, if the thief +hasn’t been to the bank to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“If he has, they might detect him by his handwriting.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to get hold of the one that stole it,” said Dick, +indignantly. “I’d give him a good lickin’.” +</p> + +<p> +“It must have been somebody in the house. Suppose we go and see Mrs. +Mooney. She may know whether anybody came into our room to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +The two boys went downstairs, and knocked at the door of a little back +sitting-room where Mrs. Mooney generally spent her evenings. It was a shabby +little room, with a threadbare carpet on the floor, the walls covered with a +certain large-figured paper, patches of which had been stripped off here and +there, exposing the plaster, the remainder being defaced by dirt and grease. +But Mrs. Mooney had one of those comfortable temperaments which are tolerant of +dirt, and didn’t mind it in the least. She was seated beside a small pine +work-table, industriously engaged in mending stockings. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-evening, Mrs. Mooney,” said Fosdick, politely. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-evening,” said the landlady. “Sit down, if you can find +chairs. I’m hard at work as you see, but a poor lone widder can’t +afford to be idle.” +</p> + +<p> +“We can’t stop long, Mrs. Mooney, but my friend here has had +something taken from his room to-day, and we thought we’d come and see +you about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” asked the landlady. “You don’t think +I’d take anything? If I am poor, it’s an honest name I’ve +always had, as all my lodgers can testify.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not, Mrs. Mooney; but there are others in the house that may +not be honest. My friend has lost his bank-book. It was safe in the drawer this +morning, but to-night it is not to be found.” +</p> + +<p> +“How much money was there in it?” asked Mrs. Mooney. +</p> + +<p> +“Over a hundred dollars,” said Fosdick. +</p> + +<p> +“It was my whole fortun’,” said Dick. “I was +goin’ to buy a house next year.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Mooney was evidently surprised to learn the extent of Dick’s wealth, +and was disposed to regard him with increased respect. +</p> + +<p> +“Was the drawer locked?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it couldn’t have been Bridget. I don’t think she has +any keys.” +</p> + +<p> +“She wouldn’t know what a bank-book was,” said Fosdick. +“You didn’t see any of the lodgers go into our room to-day, did +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t wonder if it was Jim Travis,” said Mrs. Mooney, +suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +This James Travis was a bar-tender in a low groggery in Mulberry Street, and +had been for a few weeks an inmate of Mrs. Mooney’s lodging-house. He was +a coarse-looking fellow who, from his appearance, evidently patronized +liberally the liquor he dealt out to others. He occupied a room opposite +Dick’s, and was often heard by the two boys reeling upstairs in a state +of intoxication, uttering shocking oaths. +</p> + +<p> +This Travis had made several friendly overtures to Dick and his room-mate, and +had invited them to call round at the bar-room where he tended, and take +something. But this invitation had never been accepted, partly because the boys +were better engaged in the evening, and partly because neither of them had +taken a fancy to Mr. Travis; which certainly was not strange, for nature had +not gifted him with many charms, either of personal appearance or manners. The +rejection of his friendly proffers had caused him to take a dislike to Dick and +Henry, whom he considered stiff and unsocial. +</p> + +<p> +“What makes you think it was Travis?” asked Fosdick. “He +isn’t at home in the daytime.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he was to-day. He said he had got a bad cold, and had to come home +for a clean handkerchief.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you see him?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Mrs. Mooney. “Bridget was hanging out clothes, +and I went to the door to let him in.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if he had a key that would fit our drawer,” said Fosdick. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Mrs. Mooney. “The bureaus in the two rooms are +just alike. I got ’em at auction, and most likely the locks is the +same.” +</p> + +<p> +“It must have been he,” said Dick, looking towards Fosdick. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Fosdick, “it looks like it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s to be done? That’s what I’d like to +know,” said Dick. “Of course he’ll say he hasn’t got +it; and he won’t be such a fool as to leave it in his room.” +</p> + +<p> +“If he hasn’t been to the bank, it’s all right,” said +Fosdick. “You can go there the first thing to-morrow morning, and stop +their paying any money on it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I can’t get any money on it myself,” said Dick. “I +told Tom Wilkins I’d let him have some more money to-morrow, or his sick +mother’ll have to turn out of their lodgin’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“How much money were you going to give him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I gave him three dollars to-day, and was goin’ to give him two +dollars to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got the money, Dick. I didn’t go to the bank this +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right. I’ll take it, and pay you back next week.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Dick; if you’ve given three dollars, you must let me give +two.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Fosdick, I’d rather give the whole. You know I’ve got +more money than you. No, I haven’t, either,” said Dick, the memory +of his loss flashing upon him. “I thought I was rich this morning, but +now I’m in destitoot circumstances.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cheer up, Dick; you’ll get your money back.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope so,” said our hero, rather ruefully. +</p> + +<p> +The fact was, that our friend Dick was beginning to feel what is so often +experienced by men who do business of a more important character and on a +larger scale than he, the bitterness of a reverse of circumstances. With one +hundred dollars and over carefully laid away in the savings bank, he had felt +quite independent. Wealth is comparative, and Dick probably felt as rich as +many men who are worth a hundred thousand dollars. He was beginning to feel the +advantages of his steady self-denial, and to experience the pleasures of +property. Not that Dick was likely to be unduly attached to money. Let it be +said to his credit that it had never given him so much satisfaction as when it +enabled him to help Tom Wilkins in his trouble. +</p> + +<p> +Besides this, there was another thought that troubled him. When he obtained a +place he could not expect to receive as much as he was now making from blacking +boots,—probably not more than three dollars a week,—while his +expenses without clothing would amount to four dollars. To make up the +deficiency he had confidently relied upon his savings, which would be +sufficient to carry him along for a year, if necessary. If he should not +recover his money, he would be compelled to continue a boot-black for at least +six months longer; and this was rather a discouraging reflection. On the whole +it is not to be wondered at that Dick felt unusually sober this evening, and +that neither of the boys felt much like studying. +</p> + +<p> +The two boys consulted as to whether it would be best to speak to Travis about +it. It was not altogether easy to decide. Fosdick was opposed to it. +</p> + +<p> +“It will only put him on his guard,” said he, “and I +don’t see as it will do any good. Of course he will deny it. We’d +better keep quiet, and watch him, and, by giving notice at the bank, we can +make sure that he doesn’t get any money on it. If he does present himself +at the bank, they will know at once that he is a thief, and he can be +arrested.” +</p> + +<p> +This view seemed reasonable, and Dick resolved to adopt it. On the whole, he +began to think prospects were brighter than he had at first supposed, and his +spirits rose a little. +</p> + +<p> +“How’d he know I had any bank-book? That’s what I can’t +make out,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you remember?” said Fosdick, after a moment’s +thought, “we were speaking of our savings, two or three evenings +since?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Our door was a little open at the time, and I heard somebody come +upstairs, and stop a minute in front of it. It must have been Jim Travis. In +that way he probably found out about your money, and took the opportunity +to-day to get hold of it.” +</p> + +<p> +This might or might not be the correct explanation. At all events it seemed +probable. +</p> + +<p> +The boys were just on the point of going to bed, later in the evening, when a +knock was heard at the door, and, to their no little surprise, their neighbor, +Jim Travis, proved to be the caller. He was a sallow-complexioned young man, +with dark hair and bloodshot eyes. +</p> + +<p> +He darted a quick glance from one to the other as he entered, which did not +escape the boys’ notice. +</p> + +<p> +“How are ye, to-night?” he said, sinking into one of the two chairs +with which the room was scantily furnished. +</p> + +<p> +“Jolly,” said Dick. “How are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tired as a dog,” was the reply. “Hard work and poor pay; +that’s the way with me. I wanted to go to the theater, to-night, but I +was hard up, and couldn’t raise the cash.” +</p> + +<p> +Here he darted another quick glance at the boys; but neither betrayed anything. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t go out much, do you?” he said +</p> + +<p> +“Not much,” said Fosdick. “We spend our evenings in +study.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s precious slow,” said Travis, rather contemptuously. +“What’s the use of studying so much? You don’t expect to be a +lawyer, do you, or anything of that sort?” +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe,” said Dick. “I haven’t made up my mind yet. If +my feller-citizens should want me to go to Congress some time, I +shouldn’t want to disapp’int ’em; and then readin’ and +writin’ might come handy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Travis, rather abruptly, “I’m tired and I +guess I’ll turn in.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night,” said Fosdick. +</p> + +<p> +The boys looked at each other as their visitor left the room. +</p> + +<p> +“He came in to see if we’d missed the bank-book,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“And to turn off suspicion from himself, by letting us know he had no +money,” added Fosdick. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s so,” said Dick. “I’d like to have +searched them pockets of his.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>CHAPTER XXII.<br/> +TRACKING THE THIEF</h2> + +<p> +Fosdick was right in supposing that Jim Travis had stolen the bank-book. He was +also right in supposing that that worthy young man had come to the knowledge of +Dick’s savings by what he had accidentally overheard. Now, Travis, like a +very large number of young men of his class, was able to dispose of a larger +amount of money than he was able to earn. Moreover, he had no great fancy for +work at all, and would have been glad to find some other way of obtaining money +enough to pay his expenses. He had recently received a letter from an old +companion, who had strayed out to California, and going at once to the mines +had been lucky enough to get possession of a very remunerative claim. He wrote +to Travis that he had already realized two thousand dollars from it, and +expected to make his fortune within six months. +</p> + +<p> +Two thousand dollars! This seemed to Travis a very large sum, and quite dazzled +his imagination. He was at once inflamed with the desire to go out to +California and try his luck. In his present situation he only received thirty +dollars a month, which was probably all that his services were worth, but went +a very little way towards gratifying his expensive tastes. Accordingly he +determined to take the next steamer to the land of gold, if he could possibly +manage to get money enough to pay the passage. +</p> + +<p> +The price of a steerage passage at that time was seventy-five +dollars,—not a large sum, certainly,—but it might as well have been +seventy-five hundred for any chance James Travis had of raising the amount at +present. His available funds consisted of precisely two dollars and a quarter; +of which sum, one dollar and a half was due to his washerwoman. This, however, +would not have troubled Travis much, and he would conveniently have forgotten +all about it; but, even leaving this debt unpaid, the sum at his command would +not help him materially towards paying his passage money. +</p> + +<p> +Travis applied for help to two or three of his companions; but they were all of +that kind who never keep an account with savings banks, but carry all their +spare cash about with them. One of these friends offered to lend him +thirty-seven cents, and another a dollar; but neither of these offers seemed to +encourage him much. He was about giving up his project in despair, when he +learned, accidentally, as we have already said, the extent of Dick’s +savings. +</p> + +<p> +One hundred and seventeen dollars! Why, that would not only pay his passage, +but carry him up to the mines, after he had arrived in San Francisco. He could +not help thinking it over, and the result of this thinking was that he +determined to borrow it of Dick without leave. Knowing that neither of the boys +were in their room in the daytime, he came back in the course of the morning, +and, being admitted by Mrs. Mooney herself, said, by way of accounting for his +presence, that he had a cold, and had come back for a handkerchief. The +landlady suspected nothing, and, returning at once to her work in the kitchen, +left the coast clear. +</p> + +<p> +Travis at once entered Dick’s room, and, as there seemed to be no other +place for depositing money, tried the bureau-drawers. They were all readily +opened, except one, which proved to be locked. This he naturally concluded must +contain the money, and going back to his own chamber for the key of the bureau, +tried it on his return, and found to his satisfaction that it would fit. When +he discovered the bank-book, his joy was mingled with disappointment. He had +expected to find bank-bills instead. This would have saved all further trouble, +and would have been immediately available. Obtaining money at the savings bank +would involve fresh risk. Travis hesitated whether to take it or not; but +finally decided that it would be worth the trouble and hazard. +</p> + +<p> +He accordingly slipped the book into his pocket, locked the drawer again, and, +forgetting all about the handkerchief for which he had come home went +downstairs, and into the street. +</p> + +<p> +There would have been time to go to the savings bank that day, but Travis had +already been absent from his place of business some time, and did not venture +to take the additional time required. Besides, not being very much used to +savings banks, never having had occasion to use them, he thought it would be +more prudent to look over the rules and regulations, and see if he could not +get some information as to the way he ought to proceed. So the day passed, and +Dick’s money was left in safety at the bank. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening, it occurred to Travis that it might be well to find out whether +Dick had discovered his loss. This reflection it was that induced the visit +which is recorded at the close of the last chapter. The result was that he was +misled by the boys’ silence on the subject, and concluded that nothing +had yet been discovered. +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” thought Travis, with satisfaction. “If they +don’t find out for twenty-four hours, it’ll be too late, then, and +I shall be all right.” +</p> + +<p> +There being a possibility of the loss being discovered before the boys went out +in the morning, Travis determined to see them at that time, and judge whether +such was the case. He waited, therefore, until he heard the boys come out, and +then opened his own door. +</p> + +<p> +“Morning, gents,” said he, sociably. “Going to +business?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick. “I’m afraid my clerks’ll be +lazy if I aint on hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good joke!” said Travis. “If you pay good wages, I’d +like to speak for a place.” +</p> + +<p> +“I pay all I get myself,” said Dick. “How’s business +with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“So so. Why don’t you call round, some time?” +</p> + +<p> +“All my evenin’s is devoted to literatoor and science,” said +Dick. “Thank you all the same.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where do you hang out?” inquired Travis, in choice language, +addressing Fosdick. +</p> + +<p> +“At Henderson’s hat and cap store, on Broadway.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll look in upon you some time when I want a tile,” said +Travis. “I suppose you sell cheaper to your friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be as reasonable as I can,” said Fosdick, not very +cordially; for he did not much fancy having it supposed by his employer that +such a disreputable-looking person as Travis was a friend of his. +</p> + +<p> +However, Travis had no idea of showing himself at the Broadway store, and only +said this by way of making conversation, and encouraging the boys to be social. +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t any of you gents seen a pearl-handled knife, have +you?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Fosdick; “have you lost one?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Travis, with unblushing falsehood. “I left it on +my bureau a day or two since. I’ve missed one or two other little +matters. Bridget don’t look to me any too honest. Likely she’s got +’em.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you goin’ to do about it?” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll keep mum unless I lose something more, and then I’ll +kick up a row, and haul her over the coals. Have you missed anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Fosdick, answering for himself, as he could do without +violating the truth. +</p> + +<p> +There was a gleam of satisfaction in the eyes of Travis, as he heard this. +</p> + +<p> +“They haven’t found it out yet,” he thought. +“I’ll bag the money to-day, and then they may whistle for +it.” +</p> + +<p> +Having no further object to serve in accompanying the boys, he bade them +good-morning, and turned down another street. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s mighty friendly all of a sudden,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Fosdick; “it’s very evident what it all +means. He wants to find out whether you have discovered your loss or +not.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he didn’t find out.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; we’ve put him on the wrong track. He means to get his money +to-day, no doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +“My money,” suggested Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“I accept the correction,” said Fosdick. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, Dick, you’ll be on hand as soon as the bank +opens.” +</p> + +<p> +“In course I shall. Jim Travis’ll find he’s walked into the +wrong shop.” +</p> + +<p> +“The bank opens at ten o’clock, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be there on time.” +</p> + +<p> +The two boys separated. +</p> + +<p> +“Good luck, Dick,” said Fosdick, as he parted from him. +“It’ll all come out right, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope ’twill,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +He had recovered from his temporary depression, and made up his mind that the +money would be recovered. He had no idea of allowing himself to be outwitted by +Jim Travis, and enjoyed already, in anticipation, the pleasure of defeating his +rascality. +</p> + +<p> +It wanted two hours and a half yet to ten o’clock, and this time to Dick +was too precious to be wasted. It was the time of his greatest harvest. He +accordingly repaired to his usual place of business, succeeded in obtaining six +customers, which yielded him sixty cents. He then went to a restaurant, and got +some breakfast. It was now half-past nine, and Dick, feeling that it +wouldn’t do to be late, left his box in charge of Johnny Nolan, and made +his way to the bank. +</p> + +<p> +The officers had not yet arrived, and Dick lingered on the outside, waiting +till they should come. He was not without a little uneasiness, fearing that +Travis might be as prompt as himself, and finding him there, might suspect +something, and so escape the snare. But, though looking cautiously up and down +the street, he could discover no traces of the supposed thief. In due time ten +o’clock struck, and immediately afterwards the doors of the bank were +thrown open, and our hero entered. +</p> + +<p> +As Dick had been in the habit of making a weekly visit for the last nine +months, the cashier had come to know him by sight. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re early, this morning, my lad,” he said, pleasantly. +“Have you got some more money to deposit? You’ll be getting rich, +soon.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know about that,” said Dick. “My +bank-book’s been stole.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stolen!” echoed the cashier. “That’s unfortunate. Not +so bad as it might be, though. The thief can’t collect the money.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I came to see about,” said Dick. “I was +afraid he might have got it already.” +</p> + +<p> +“He hasn’t been here yet. Even if he had, I remember you, and +should have detected him. When was it taken?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yesterday,” said Dick. “I missed it in the evenin’ +when I got home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any suspicion as to the person who took it?” asked the +cashier. +</p> + +<p> +Dick thereupon told all he knew as to the general character and suspicious +conduct of Jim Travis, and the cashier agreed with him that he was probably the +thief. Dick also gave his reason for thinking that he would visit the bank that +morning, to withdraw the funds. +</p> + +<p> +“Very good,” said the cashier. “We’ll be ready for him. +What is the number of your book?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. 5,678,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Now give me a little description of this Travis whom you suspect.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick accordingly furnished a brief outline sketch of Travis, not particularly +complimentary to the latter. +</p> + +<p> +“That will answer. I think I shall know him,” said the cashier. +“You may depend upon it that he shall receive no money on your +account.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +Considerably relieved in mind, our hero turned towards the door, thinking that +there would be nothing gained by his remaining longer, while he would of course +lose time. +</p> + +<p> +He had just reached the doors, which were of glass, when through them he +perceived James Travis himself just crossing the street, and apparently coming +towards the bank. It would not do, of course, for him to be seen. +</p> + +<p> +“Here he is,” he exclaimed, hurrying back. “Can’t you +hide me somewhere? I don’t want to be seen.” +</p> + +<p> +The cashier understood at once how the land lay. He quickly opened a little +door, and admitted Dick behind the counter. +</p> + +<p> +“Stoop down,” he said, “so as not to be seen.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick had hardly done so when Jim Travis opened the outer door, and, looking +about him in a little uncertainty, walked up to the cashier’s desk. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap23"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.<br/> +TRAVIS IS ARRESTED</h2> + +<p> +Jim Travis advanced into the bank with a doubtful step, knowing well that he +was on a dishonest errand, and heartily wishing that he were well out of it. +After a little hesitation, he approached the paying-teller, and, exhibiting the +bank-book, said, “I want to get my money out.” +</p> + +<p> +The bank-officer took the book, and, after looking at it a moment, said, +“How much do you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“The whole of it,” said Travis. +</p> + +<p> +“You can draw out any part of it, but to draw out the whole requires a +week’s notice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll take a hundred dollars.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you the person to whom the book belongs?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said Travis, without hesitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Your name is—” +</p> + +<p> +“Hunter.” +</p> + +<p> +The bank-clerk went to a large folio volume, containing the names of +depositors, and began to turn over the leaves. While he was doing this, he +managed to send out a young man connected with the bank for a policeman. Travis +did not perceive this, or did not suspect that it had anything to do with +himself. Not being used to savings banks, he supposed the delay only what was +usual. After a search, which was only intended to gain time that a policeman +might be summoned, the cashier came back, and, sliding out a piece of paper to +Travis, said, “It will be necessary for you to write an order for the +money.” +</p> + +<p> +Travis took a pen, which he found on the ledge outside, and wrote the order, +signing his name “Dick Hunter,” having observed that name on the +outside of the book. +</p> + +<p> +“Your name is Dick Hunter, then?” said the cashier, taking the +paper, and looking at the thief over his spectacles. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Travis, promptly. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” continued the cashier, “I find Hunter’s age is +put down on the bank-book as fourteen. Surely you must be more than +that.” +</p> + +<p> +Travis would gladly have declared that he was only fourteen; but, being in +reality twenty-three, and possessing a luxuriant pair of whiskers, this was not +to be thought of. He began to feel uneasy. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick Hunter’s my younger brother,” he said. “I’m +getting out the money for him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you said your own name was Dick Hunter,” said the +cashier. +</p> + +<p> +“I said my name was Hunter,” said Travis, ingeniously. “I +didn’t understand you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you’ve signed the name of Dick Hunter to this order. How is +that?” questioned the troublesome cashier. +</p> + +<p> +Travis saw that he was getting himself into a tight place; but his +self-possession did not desert him. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I must give my brother’s name,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“What is your own name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Henry Hunter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you bring any one to testify that the statement you are making is +correct?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a dozen if you like,” said Travis, boldly. “Give me the +book, and I’ll come back this afternoon. I didn’t think +there’d be such a fuss about getting out a little money.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a moment. Why don’t your brother come himself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because he’s sick. He’s down with the measles,” said +Travis. +</p> + +<p> +Here the cashier signed to Dick to rise and show himself. Our hero accordingly +did so. +</p> + +<p> +“You will be glad to find that he has recovered,” said the cashier, +pointing to Dick. +</p> + +<p> +With an exclamation of anger and dismay, Travis, who saw the game was up, +started for the door, feeling that safety made such a course prudent. But he +was too late. He found himself confronted by a burly policeman, who seized him +by the arm, saying, “Not so fast, my man. I want you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me go,” exclaimed Travis, struggling to free himself. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry I can’t oblige you,” said the officer. +“You’d better not make a fuss, or I may have to hurt you a +little.” +</p> + +<p> +Travis sullenly resigned himself to his fate, darting a look of rage at Dick, +whom he considered the author of his present misfortune. +</p> + +<p> +“This is your book,” said the cashier, handing back his rightful +property to our hero. “Do you wish to draw out any money?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two dollars,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well. Write an order for the amount.” +</p> + +<p> +Before doing so, Dick, who now that he saw Travis in the power of the law began +to pity him, went up to the officer, and said,— +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you let him go? I’ve got my bank-book back, and I +don’t want anything done to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sorry I can’t oblige you,” said the officer; “but +I’m not allowed to do it. He’ll have to stand his trial.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry for you, Travis,” said Dick. “I didn’t +want you arrested. I only wanted my bank-book back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Curse you!” said Travis, scowling vindictively. “Wait till I +get free. See if I don’t fix you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t pity him too much,” said the officer. “I +know him now. He’s been to the Island before.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a lie,” said Travis, violently. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be too noisy, my friend,” said the officer. “If +you’ve got no more business here, we’ll be going.” +</p> + +<p> +He withdrew with the prisoner in charge, and Dick, having drawn his two +dollars, left the bank. Notwithstanding the violent words the prisoner had used +towards himself, and his attempted robbery, he could not help feeling sorry +that he had been instrumental in causing his arrest. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll keep my book a little safer hereafter,” thought Dick. +“Now I must go and see Tom Wilkins.” +</p> + +<p> +Before dismissing the subject of Travis and his theft, it may be remarked that +he was duly tried, and, his guilt being clear, was sent to Blackwell’s +Island for nine months. At the end of that time, on his release, he got a +chance to work his passage on a ship to San Francisco, where he probably +arrived in due time. At any rate, nothing more has been heard of him, and +probably his threat of vengence against Dick will never be carried into effect. +</p> + +<p> +Returning to the City Hall Park, Dick soon fell in with Tom Wilkins. +</p> + +<p> +“How are you, Tom?” he said. “How’s your mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s better, Dick, thank you. She felt worried about bein’ +turned out into the street; but I gave her that money from you, and now she +feels a good deal easier.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got some more for you, Tom,” said Dick, producing a +two-dollar bill from his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“I ought not to take it from you, Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s all right, Tom. Don’t be afraid.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you may need it yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s plenty more where that came from.” +</p> + +<p> +“Any way, one dollar will be enough. With that we can pay the +rent.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll want the other to buy something to eat.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re very kind, Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d ought to be. I’ve only got myself to take care +of.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ll take it for my mother’s sake. When you want +anything done just call on Tom Wilkins.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right. Next week, if your mother doesn’t get better, +I’ll give you some more.” +</p> + +<p> +Tom thanked our hero very gratefully, and Dick walked away, feeling the +self-approval which always accompanies a generous and disinterested action. He +was generous by nature, and, before the period at which he is introduced to the +reader’s notice, he frequently treated his friends to cigars and +oyster-stews. Sometimes he invited them to accompany him to the theatre at his +expense. But he never derived from these acts of liberality the same degree of +satisfaction as from this timely gift to Tom Wilkins. He felt that his money +was well bestowed, and would save an entire family from privation and +discomfort. Five dollars would, to be sure, make something of a difference in +the amount of his savings. It was more than he was able to save up in a week. +But Dick felt fully repaid for what he had done, and he felt prepared to give +as much more, if Tom’s mother should continue to be sick, and should +appear to him to need it. +</p> + +<p> +Besides all this, Dick felt a justifiable pride in his financial ability to +afford so handsome a gift. A year before, however much he might have desired to +give, it would have been quite out of his power to give five dollars. His cash +balance never reached that amount. It was seldom, indeed, that it equalled one +dollar. In more ways than one Dick was beginning to reap the advantage of his +self-denial and judicious economy. +</p> + +<p> +It will be remembered that when Mr. Whitney at parting with Dick presented him +with five dollars, he told him that he might repay it to some other boy who was +struggling upward. Dick thought of this, and it occurred to him that after all +he was only paying up an old debt. +</p> + +<p> +When Fosdick came home in the evening, Dick announced his success in recovering +his lost money, and described the manner it had been brought about. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re in luck,” said Fosdick. “I guess we’d +better not trust the bureau-drawer again.” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean to carry my book round with me,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“So shall I, as long as we stay at Mrs. Mooney’s. I wish we were in +a better place.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must go down and tell her she needn’t expect Travis back. Poor +chap, I pity him!” +</p> + +<p> +Travis was never more seen in Mrs. Mooney’s establishment. He was owing +that lady for a fortnight’s rent of his room, which prevented her feeling +much compassion for him. The room was soon after let to a more creditable +tenant who proved a less troublesome neighbor than his predecessor. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap24"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.<br/> +DICK RECEIVES A LETTER</h2> + +<p> +It was about a week after Dick’s recovery of his bank-book, that Fosdick +brought home with him in the evening a copy of the “Daily Sun.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like to see your name in print, Dick?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick, who was busy at the wash-stand, endeavoring to +efface the marks which his day’s work had left upon his hands. +“They haven’t put me up for mayor, have they? ’Cause if they +have, I shan’t accept. It would interfere too much with my private +business.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Fosdick, “they haven’t put you up for office +yet, though that may happen sometime. But if you want to see your name in +print, here it is.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick was rather incredulous, but, having dried his hands on the towel, took the +paper, and following the directions of Fosdick’s finger, observed in the +list of advertised letters the name of “RAGGED DICK.” +</p> + +<p> +“By gracious, so it is,” said he. “Do you s’pose it +means me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know of any other Ragged Dick,—do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick, reflectively; “it must be me. But I +don’t know of anybody that would be likely to write to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it is Frank Whitney,” suggested Fosdick, after a little +reflection. “Didn’t he promise to write to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick, “and he wanted me to write to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he now?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was going to a boarding-school in Connecticut, he said. The name of +the town was Barnton.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very likely the letter is from him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope it is. Frank was a tip-top boy, and he was the first that made me +ashamed of bein’ so ignorant and dirty.” +</p> + +<p> +“You had better go to the post-office to-morrow morning, and ask for the +letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“P’r’aps they won’t give it to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose you wear the old clothes you used to a year ago, when Frank +first saw you? They won’t have any doubt of your being Ragged Dick +then.” +</p> + +<p> +“I guess I will. I’ll be sort of ashamed to be seen in ’em +though,” said Dick, who had considerable more pride in a neat personal +appearance than when we were first introduced to him. +</p> + +<p> +“It will be only for one day, or one morning,” said Fosdick. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d do more’n that for the sake of gettin’ a letter +from Frank. I’d like to see him.” +</p> + +<p> +The next morning, in accordance with the suggestion of Fosdick, Dick arrayed +himself in the long disused Washington coat and Napoleon pants, which he had +carefully preserved, for what reason he could hardly explain. +</p> + +<p> +When fairly equipped, Dick surveyed himself in the mirror,—if the little +seven-by-nine-inch looking-glass, with which the room was furnished, deserved +the name. The result of the survey was not on the whole a pleasing one. To tell +the truth, Dick was quite ashamed of his appearance, and, on opening the +chamber-door, looked around to see that the coast was clear, not being willing +to have any of his fellow-boarders see him in his present attire. +</p> + +<p> +He managed to slip out into the street unobserved, and, after attending to two +or three regular customers who came down-town early in the morning, he made his +way down Nassau Street to the post-office. He passed along until he came to a +compartment on which he read ADVERTISED LETTERS, and, stepping up to the little +window, said,— +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a letter for me. I saw it advertised in the +‘Sun’ yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“What name?” demanded the clerk. +</p> + +<p> +“Ragged Dick,” answered our hero. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a queer name,” said the clerk, surveying him a little +curiously. “Are you Ragged Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t believe me, look at my clo’es,” said +Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s pretty good proof, certainly,” said the clerk, +laughing. “If that isn’t your name, it deserves to be.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe in dressin’ up to your name,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know any one in Barnton, Connecticut?” asked the clerk, who +had by this time found the letter. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick. “I know a chap that’s at +boardin’-school there.” +</p> + +<p> +“It appears to be in a boy’s hand. I think it must be yours.” +</p> + +<p> +The letter was handed to Dick through the window. He received it eagerly, and +drawing back so as not to be in the way of the throng who were constantly +applying for letters, or slipping them into the boxes provided for them, +hastily opened it, and began to read. As the reader may be interested in the +contents of the letter as well as Dick, we transcribe it below. +</p> + +<p> +It was dated Barnton, Conn., and commenced thus,— +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“D<small>EAR</small> D<small>ICK</small>,—You must excuse my +addressing this letter to ‘Ragged Dick’; but the fact is, I +don’t know what your last name is, nor where you live. I am afraid there +is not much chance of your getting this letter; but I hope you will. I have +thought of you very often, and wondered how you were getting along, and I +should have written to you before if I had known where to direct. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me tell you a little about myself. Barnton is a very pretty country +town, only about six miles from Hartford. The boarding-school which I attend is +under the charge of Ezekiel Munroe, A.M. He is a man of about fifty, a graduate +of Yale College, and has always been a teacher. It is a large two-story house, +with an addition containing a good many small bed-chambers for the boys. There +are about twenty of us, and there is one assistant teacher who teaches the +English branches. Mr. Munroe, or Old Zeke, as we call him behind his back, +teaches Latin and Greek. I am studying both these languages, because father +wants me to go to college. +</p> + +<p> +“But you won’t be interested in hearing about our studies. I will +tell you how we amuse ourselves. There are about fifty acres of land belonging +to Mr. Munroe; so that we have plenty of room for play. About a quarter of a +mile from the house there is a good-sized pond. There is a large, +round-bottomed boat, which is stout and strong. Every Wednesday and Saturday +afternoon, when the weather is good, we go out rowing on the pond. Mr. Barton, +the assistant teacher, goes with us, to look after us. In the summer we are +allowed to go in bathing. In the winter there is splendid skating on the pond. +</p> + +<p> +“Besides this, we play ball a good deal, and we have various other plays. +So we have a pretty good time, although we study pretty hard too. I am getting +on very well in my studies. Father has not decided yet where he will send me to +college. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you were here, Dick. I should enjoy your company, and besides I +should like to feel that you were getting an education. I think you are +naturally a pretty smart boy; but I suppose, as you have to earn your own +living, you don’t get much chance to learn. I only wish I had a few +hundred dollars of my own. I would have you come up here, and attend school +with us. If I ever have a chance to help you in any way, you may be sure that I +will. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall have to wind up my letter now, as I have to hand in a +composition to-morrow, on the life and character of Washington. I might say +that I have a friend who wears a coat that once belonged to the general. But I +suppose that coat must be worn out by this time. I don’t much like +writing compositions. I would a good deal rather write letters. +</p> + +<p> +“I have written a longer letter than I meant to. I hope you will get it, +though I am afraid not. If you do, you must be sure to answer it, as soon as +possible. You needn’t mind if your writing does look like +‘hens-tracks,’ as you told me once. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-by, Dick. You must always think of me, as your very true friend, +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“F<small>RANK</small> W<small>HITNEY</small>.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick read this letter with much satisfaction. It is always pleasant to be +remembered, and Dick had so few friends that it was more to him than to boys +who are better provided. Again, he felt a new sense of importance in having a +letter addressed to him. It was the first letter he had ever received. If it +had been sent to him a year before, he would not have been able to read it. But +now, thanks to Fosdick’s instructions, he could not only read writing, +but he could write a very good hand himself. +</p> + +<p> +There was one passage in the letter which pleased Dick. It was where Frank said +that if he had the money he would pay for his education himself. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a tip-top feller,” said Dick. “I wish I could see +him ag’in.” +</p> + +<p> +There were two reasons why Dick would like to have seen Frank. One was, the +natural pleasure he would have in meeting a friend; but he felt also that he +would like to have Frank witness the improvement he had made in his studies and +mode of life. +</p> + +<p> +“He’d find me a little more ’spectable than when he first saw +me,” thought Dick. +</p> + +<p> +Dick had by this time got up to Printing House Square. Standing on Spruce +Street, near the “Tribune” office, was his old enemy, Micky +Maguire. +</p> + +<p> +It has already been said that Micky felt a natural enmity towards those in his +own condition in life who wore better clothes than himself. For the last nine +months, Dick’s neat appearance had excited the ire of the young +Philistine. To appear in neat attire and with a clean face Micky felt was a +piece of presumption, and an assumption of superiority on the part of our hero, +and he termed it “tryin’ to be a swell.” +</p> + +<p> +Now his astonished eyes rested on Dick in his ancient attire, which was very +similar to his own. It was a moment of triumph to him. He felt that +“pride had had a fall,” and he could not forbear reminding Dick of +it. +</p> + +<p> +“Them’s nice clo’es you’ve got on,” said he, +sarcastically, as Dick came up. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick, promptly. “I’ve been employin’ +your tailor. If my face was only dirty we’d be taken for twin +brothers.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you’ve give up tryin’ to be a swell?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only for this partic’lar occasion,” said Dick. “I +wanted to make a fashionable call, so I put on my regimentals.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t b’lieve you’ve got any better +clo’es,” said Micky. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said Dick, “I won’t charge you +nothin’ for what you believe.” +</p> + +<p> +Here a customer presented himself for Micky, and Dick went back to his room to +change his clothes, before resuming business. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap25"></a>CHAPTER XXV.<br/> +DICK WRITES HIS FIRST LETTER</h2> + +<p> +When Fosdick reached home in the evening, Dick displayed his letter with some +pride. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a nice letter,” said Fosdick, after reading it. +“I should like to know Frank.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll bet you would,” said Dick. “He’s a +trump.” +</p> + +<p> +“When are you going to answer it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” said Dick, dubiously. “I never writ a +letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s no reason why you shouldn’t. There’s always a +first time, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what to say,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Get some paper and sit down to it, and you’ll find enough to say. +You can do that this evening instead of studying.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you’ll look it over afterwards, and shine it up a +little.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, if it needs it; but I rather think Frank would like it best just as +you wrote it.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick decided to adopt Fosdick’s suggestion. He had very serious doubts as +to his ability to write a letter. Like a good many other boys, he looked upon +it as a very serious job, not reflecting that, after all, letter-writing is +nothing but talking upon paper. Still, in spite of his misgivings, he felt that +the letter ought to be answered, and he wished Frank to hear from him. After +various preparations, he at last got settled down to his task, and, before the +evening was over, a letter was written. As the first letter which Dick had ever +produced, and because it was characteristic of him, my readers may like to read +it. +</p> + +<p> +Here it is,— +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“D<small>EAR</small> F<small>RANK</small>,—I got your letter this +mornin’, and was very glad to hear you hadn’t forgotten Ragged +Dick. I aint so ragged as I was. Openwork coats and trowsers has gone out of +fashion. I put on the Washington coat and Napoleon pants to go to the +post-office, for fear they wouldn’t think I was the boy that was meant. +On my way back I received the congratulations of my intimate friend, Micky +Maguire, on my improved appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve give up sleepin’ in boxes, and old wagons, +findin’ it didn’t agree with my constitution. I’ve hired a +room in Mott Street, and have got a private tooter, who rooms with me and looks +after my studies in the evenin’. Mott Street aint very fashionable; but +my manshun on Fifth Avenoo isn’t finished yet, and I’m afraid it +won’t be till I’m a gray-haired veteran. I’ve got a hundred +dollars towards it, which I’ve saved up from my earnin’s. I +haven’t forgot what you and your uncle said to me, and I’m +tryin’ to grow up ’spectable. I haven’t been to Tony +Pastor’s, or the Old Bowery, for ever so long. I’d rather save up +my money to support me in my old age. When my hair gets gray, I’m +goin’ to knock off blackin’ boots, and go into some light, genteel +employment, such as keepin’ an apple-stand, or disseminatin’ +pea-nuts among the people. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got so as to read pretty well, so my tooter says. I’ve +been studyin’ geography and grammar also. I’ve made such +astonishin’ progress that I can tell a noun from a conjunction as far +away as I can see ’em. Tell Mr. Munroe that if he wants an accomplished +teacher in his school, he can send for me, and I’ll come on by the very +next train. Or, if he wants to sell out for a hundred dollars, I’ll buy +the whole concern, and agree to teach the scholars all I know myself in less +than six months. Is teachin’ as good business, generally speakin’, +as blackin’ boots? My private tooter combines both, and is makin’ a +fortun’ with great rapidity. He’ll be as rich as Astor some time, +<i>if he only lives long enough.</i> +</p> + +<p> +“I should think you’d have a bully time at your school. I should +like to go out in the boat, or play ball with you. When are you comin’ to +the city? I wish you’d write and let me know when you do, and I’ll +call and see you. I’ll leave my business in the hands of my numerous +clerks, and go round with you. There’s lots of things you didn’t +see when you was here before. They’re getting on fast at the Central +Park. It looks better than it did a year ago. +</p> + +<p> +“I aint much used to writin’ letters. As this is the first one I +ever wrote, I hope you’ll excuse the mistakes. I hope you’ll write +to me again soon. I can’t write so good a letter as you; but, I’ll +do my best, as the man said when he was asked if he could swim over to Brooklyn +backwards. Good-by, Frank. Thank you for all your kindness. Direct your next +letter to No. — Mott Street. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Your true friend,<br/> +“D<small>ICK</small> H<small>UNTER</small>.” +</p> + +<p> +When Dick had written the last word, he leaned back in his chair, and surveyed +the letter with much satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t think I could have wrote such a long letter, +Fosdick,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +“Written would be more grammatical, Dick,” suggested his friend. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess there’s plenty of mistakes in it,” said Dick. +“Just look at it, and see.” +</p> + +<p> +Fosdick took the letter, and read it over carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, there are some mistakes,” he said; “but it sounds so +much like you that I think it would be better to let it go just as it is. It +will be more likely to remind Frank of what you were when he first saw +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it good enough to send?” asked Dick, anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; it seems to me to be quite a good letter. It is written just as you +talk. Nobody but you could have written such a letter, Dick. I think Frank will +be amused at your proposal to come up there as teacher.” +</p> + +<p> +“P’r’aps it would be a good idea for us to open a seleck +school here in Mott Street,” said Dick, humorously. “We could call +it ‘Professor Fosdick and Hunter’s Mott Street Seminary.’ +Boot-blackin’ taught by Professor Hunter.” +</p> + +<p> +The evening was so far advanced that Dick decided to postpone copying his +letter till the next evening. By this time he had come to have a very fair +handwriting, so that when the letter was complete it really looked quite +creditable, and no one would have suspected that it was Dick’s first +attempt in this line. Our hero surveyed it with no little complacency. In fact, +he felt rather proud of it, since it reminded him of the great progress he had +made. He carried it down to the post-office, and deposited it with his own +hands in the proper box. Just on the steps of the building, as he was coming +out, he met Johnny Nolan, who had been sent on an errand to Wall Street by some +gentleman, and was just returning. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doin’ down here, Dick?” asked Johnny. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been mailin’ a letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who sent you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody.” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean, who writ the letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wrote it myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you write letters?” asked Johnny, in amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“Why shouldn’t I?” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know you could write. I can’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you ought to learn.” +</p> + +<p> +“I went to school once; but it was too hard work, so I give it up.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re lazy, Johnny,—that’s what’s the matter. +How’d you ever expect to know anything, if you don’t try?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t learn.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can, if you want to.” +</p> + +<p> +Johnny Nolan was evidently of a different opinion. He was a good-natured boy, +large of his age, with nothing particularly bad about him, but utterly lacking +in that energy, ambition, and natural sharpness, for which Dick was +distinguished. He was not adapted to succeed in the life which circumstances +had forced upon him; for in the street-life of the metropolis a boy needs to be +on the alert, and have all his wits about him, or he will find himself wholly +distanced by his more enterprising competitors for popular favor. To succeed in +his profession, humble as it is, a boot-black must depend upon the same +qualities which gain success in higher walks in life. It was easy to see that +Johnny, unless very much favored by circumstances, would never rise much above +his present level. For Dick, we cannot help hoping much better things. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap26"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.<br/> +AN EXCITING ADVENTURE</h2> + +<p> +Dick now began to look about for a position in a store or counting-room. Until +he should obtain one he determined to devote half the day to blacking boots, +not being willing to break in upon his small capital. He found that he could +earn enough in half a day to pay all his necessary expenses, including the +entire rent of the room. Fosdick desired to pay his half; but Dick steadily +refused, insisting upon paying so much as compensation for his friend’s +services as instructor. +</p> + +<p> +It should be added that Dick’s peculiar way of speaking and use of slang +terms had been somewhat modified by his education and his intimacy with Henry +Fosdick. Still he continued to indulge in them to some extent, especially when +he felt like joking, and it was natural to Dick to joke, as my readers have +probably found out by this time. Still his manners were considerably improved, +so that he was more likely to obtain a situation than when first introduced to +our notice. +</p> + +<p> +Just now, however, business was very dull, and merchants, instead of hiring new +assistants, were disposed to part with those already in their employ. After +making several ineffectual applications, Dick began to think he should be +obliged to stick to his profession until the next season. But about this time +something occurred which considerably improved his chances of preferment. +</p> + +<p> +This is the way it happened. +</p> + +<p> +As Dick, with a balance of more than a hundred dollars in the savings bank, +might fairly consider himself a young man of property, he thought himself +justified in occasionally taking a half holiday from business, and going on an +excursion. On Wednesday afternoon Henry Fosdick was sent by his employer on an +errand to that part of Brooklyn near Greenwood Cemetery. Dick hastily dressed +himself in his best, and determined to accompany him. +</p> + +<p> +The two boys walked down to the South Ferry, and, paying their two cents each, +entered the ferry boat. They remained at the stern, and stood by the railing, +watching the great city, with its crowded wharves, receding from view. Beside +them was a gentleman with two children,—a girl of eight and a little boy +of six. The children were talking gayly to their father. While he was pointing +out some object of interest to the little girl, the boy managed to creep, +unobserved, beneath the chain that extends across the boat, for the protection +of passengers, and, stepping incautiously to the edge of the boat, fell over +into the foaming water. +</p> + +<p> +At the child’s scream, the father looked up, and, with a cry of horror, +sprang to the edge of the boat. He would have plunged in, but, being unable to +swim, would only have endangered his own life, without being able to save his +child. +</p> + +<p> +“My child!” he exclaimed in anguish,—“who will save my +child? A thousand—ten thousand dollars to any one who will save +him!” +</p> + +<p> +There chanced to be but few passengers on board at the time, and nearly all +these were either in the cabins or standing forward. Among the few who saw the +child fall was our hero. +</p> + +<p> +Now Dick was an expert swimmer. It was an accomplishment which he had possessed +for years, and he no sooner saw the boy fall than he resolved to rescue him. +His determination was formed before he heard the liberal offer made by the +boy’s father. Indeed, I must do Dick the justice to say that, in the +excitement of the moment, he did not hear it at all, nor would it have +stimulated the alacrity with which he sprang to the rescue of the little boy. +</p> + +<p> +Little Johnny had already risen once, and gone under for the second time, when +our hero plunged in. He was obliged to strike out for the boy, and this took +time. He reached him none too soon. Just as he was sinking for the third and +last time, he caught him by the jacket. Dick was stout and strong, but Johnny +clung to him so tightly, that it was with great difficulty he was able to +sustain himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Put your arms round my neck,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +The little boy mechanically obeyed, and clung with a grasp strengthened by his +terror. In this position Dick could bear his weight better. But the ferry-boat +was receding fast. It was quite impossible to reach it. The father, his face +pale with terror and anguish, and his hands clasped in suspense, saw the brave +boy’s struggles, and prayed with agonizing fervor that he might be +successful. But it is probable, for they were now midway of the river, that +both Dick and the little boy whom he had bravely undertaken to rescue would +have been drowned, had not a row-boat been fortunately near. The two men who +were in it witnessed the accident, and hastened to the rescue of our hero. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep up a little longer,” they shouted, bending to their oars, +“and we will save you.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick heard the shout, and it put fresh strength into him. He battled manfully +with the treacherous sea, his eyes fixed longingly upon the approaching boat. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold on tight, little boy,” he said. “There’s a boat +coming.” +</p> + +<p> +The little boy did not see the boat. His eyes were closed to shut out the +fearful water, but he clung the closer to his young preserver. Six long, steady +strokes, and the boat dashed along side. Strong hands seized Dick and his +youthful burden, and drew them into the boat, both dripping with water. +</p> + +<p> +“God be thanked!” exclaimed the father, as from the steamer he saw +the child’s rescue. “That brave boy shall be rewarded, if I +sacrifice my whole fortune to compass it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve had a pretty narrow escape, young chap,” said one of +the boatmen to Dick. “It was a pretty tough job you undertook.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick. “That’s what I thought when I was in +the water. If it hadn’t been for you, I don’t know what would have +’come of us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Anyhow you’re a plucky boy, or you wouldn’t have dared to +jump into the water after this little chap. It was a risky thing to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m used to the water,” said Dick, modestly. “I +didn’t stop to think of the danger, but I wasn’t going to see that +little fellow drown without tryin’ to save him.” +</p> + +<p> +The boat at once headed for the ferry wharf on the Brooklyn side. The captain +of the ferry-boat, seeing the rescue, did not think it necessary to stop his +boat, but kept on his way. The whole occurrence took place in less time than I +have occupied in telling it. +</p> + +<p> +The father was waiting on the wharf to receive his little boy, with what +feelings of gratitude and joy can be easily understood. With a burst of happy +tears he clasped him to his arms. Dick was about to withdraw modestly, but the +gentleman perceived the movement, and, putting down the child, came forward, +and, clasping his hand, said with emotion, “My brave boy, I owe you a +debt I can never repay. But for your timely service I should now be plunged +into an anguish which I cannot think of without a shudder.” +</p> + +<p> +Our hero was ready enough to speak on most occasions, but always felt awkward +when he was praised. +</p> + +<p> +“It wasn’t any trouble,” he said, modestly. “I can swim +like a top.” +</p> + +<p> +“But not many boys would have risked their lives for a stranger,” +said the gentleman. “But,” he added with a sudden thought, as his +glance rested on Dick’s dripping garments, “both you and my little +boy will take cold in wet clothes. Fortunately I have a friend living close at +hand, at whose house you will have an opportunity of taking off your clothes, +and having them dried.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick protested that he never took cold; but Fosdick, who had now joined them, +and who, it is needless to say, had been greatly alarmed at Dick’s +danger, joined in urging compliance with the gentleman’s proposal, and in +the end our hero had to yield. His new friend secured a hack, the driver of +which agreed for extra recompense to receive the dripping boys into his +carriage, and they were whirled rapidly to a pleasant house in a side street, +where matters were quickly explained, and both boys were put to bed. +</p> + +<p> +“I aint used to goin’ to bed quite so early,” thought Dick. +“This is the queerest excursion I ever took.” +</p> + +<p> +Like most active boys Dick did not enjoy the prospect of spending half a day in +bed; but his confinement did not last as long as he anticipated. +</p> + +<p> +In about an hour the door of his chamber was opened, and a servant appeared, +bringing a new and handsome suit of clothes throughout. +</p> + +<p> +“You are to put on these,” said the servant to Dick; “but you +needn’t get up till you feel like it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whose clothes are they?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“They are yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mine! Where did they come from?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Rockwell sent out and bought them for you. They are the same size as +your wet ones.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he here now?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. He bought another suit for the little boy, and has gone back to New +York. Here’s a note he asked me to give you.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick opened the paper, and read as follows,— +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“Please accept this outfit of clothes as the first instalment of a debt +which I can never repay. I have asked to have your wet suit dried, when you can +reclaim it. Will you oblige me by calling to-morrow at my counting room, No. +—, Pearl Street. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Your friend,<br/> +“J<small>AMES</small> R<small>OCKWELL</small>.” +</p> + + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap27"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.<br/> +CONCLUSION</h2> + +<p> +When Dick was dressed in his new suit, he surveyed his figure with pardonable +complacency. It was the best he had ever worn, and fitted him as well as if it +had been made expressly for him. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s done the handsome thing,” said Dick to himself; +“but there wasn’t no ’casion for his givin’ me these +clothes. My lucky stars are shinin’ pretty bright now. Jumpin’ into +the water pays better than shinin’ boots; but I don’t think +I’d like to try it more’n once a week.” +</p> + +<p> +About eleven o’clock the next morning Dick repaired to Mr. +Rockwell’s counting-room on Pearl Street. He found himself in front of a +large and handsome warehouse. The counting-room was on the lower floor. Our +hero entered, and found Mr. Rockwell sitting at a desk. No sooner did that +gentleman see him than he arose, and, advancing, shook Dick by the hand in the +most friendly manner. +</p> + +<p> +“My young friend,” he said, “you have done me so great +service that I wish to be of some service to you in return. Tell me about +yourself, and what plans or wishes you have formed for the future.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick frankly related his past history, and told Mr. Rockwell of his desire to +get into a store or counting-room, and of the failure of all his applications +thus far. The merchant listened attentively to Dick’s statement, and, +when he had finished, placed a sheet of paper before him, and, handing him a +pen, said, “Will you write your name on this piece of paper?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick wrote in a free, bold hand, the name Richard Hunter. He had very much +improved in his penmanship, as has already been mentioned, and now had no cause +to be ashamed of it. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Rockwell surveyed it approvingly. +</p> + +<p> +“How would you like to enter my counting-room as clerk, Richard?” +he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Dick was about to say “Bully,” when he recollected himself, and +answered, “Very much.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you know something of arithmetic, do you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you may consider yourself engaged at a salary of ten dollars a +week. You may come next Monday morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ten dollars!” repeated Dick, thinking he must have misunderstood. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; will that be sufficient?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s more than I can earn,” said Dick, honestly. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it is at first,” said Mr. Rockwell, smiling; “but I +am willing to pay you that. I will besides advance you as fast as your progress +will justify it.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick was so elated that he hardly restrained himself from some demonstration +which would have astonished the merchant; but he exercised self-control, and +only said, “I’ll try to serve you so faithfully, sir, that you +won’t repent having taken me into your service.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I think you will succeed,” said Mr. Rockwell, encouragingly. +“I will not detain you any longer, for I have some important business to +attend to. I shall expect to see you on Monday morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick left the counting-room, hardly knowing whether he stood on his head or his +heels, so overjoyed was he at the sudden change in his fortunes. Ten dollars a +week was to him a fortune, and three times as much as he had expected to obtain +at first. Indeed he would have been glad, only the day before, to get a place +at three dollars a week. He reflected that with the stock of clothes which he +had now on hand, he could save up at least half of it, and even then live +better than he had been accustomed to do; so that his little fund in the +savings bank, instead of being diminished, would be steadily increasing. Then +he was to be advanced if he deserved it. It was indeed a bright prospect for a +boy who, only a year before, could neither read nor write, and depended for a +night’s lodging upon the chance hospitality of an alley-way or old wagon. +Dick’s great ambition to “grow up ’spectable” seemed +likely to be accomplished after all. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish Fosdick was as well off as I am,” he thought generously. +But he determined to help his less fortunate friend, and assist him up the +ladder as he advanced himself. +</p> + +<p> +When Dick entered his room on Mott Street, he discovered that some one else had +been there before him, and two articles of wearing apparel had disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“By gracious!” he exclaimed; “somebody’s stole my +Washington coat and Napoleon pants. Maybe it’s an agent of +Barnum’s, who expects to make a fortun’ by exhibitin’ the +valooable wardrobe of a gentleman of fashion.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick did not shed many tears over his loss, as, in his present circumstances, +he never expected to have any further use for the well-worn garments. It may be +stated that he afterwards saw them adorning the figure of Micky Maguire; but +whether that estimable young man stole them himself, he never ascertained. As +to the loss, Dick was rather pleased that it had occurred. It seemed to cut him +off from the old vagabond life which he hoped never to resume. Henceforward he +meant to press onward, and rise as high as possible. +</p> + +<p> +Although it was yet only noon, Dick did not go out again with his brush. He +felt that it was time to retire from business. He would leave his share of the +public patronage to other boys less fortunate than himself. That evening Dick +and Fosdick had a long conversation. Fosdick rejoiced heartily in his +friend’s success, and on his side had the pleasant news to communicate +that his pay had been advanced to six dollars a week. +</p> + +<p> +“I think we can afford to leave Mott Street now,” he continued. +“This house isn’t as neat as it might be, and I shall like to live +in a nicer quarter of the city.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said Dick. “We’ll hunt up a new room +to-morrow. I shall have plenty of time, having retired from business. +I’ll try to get my reg’lar customers to take Johnny Nolan in my +place. That boy hasn’t any enterprise. He needs some body to look out for +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“You might give him your box and brush, too, Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick; “I’ll give him some new ones, but mine +I want to keep, to remind me of the hard times I’ve had, when I was an +ignorant boot-black, and never expected to be anything better.” +</p> + +<p> +“When, in short, you were ‘Ragged Dick.’ You must drop that +name, and think of yourself now as”— +</p> + +<p> +“Richard Hunter, Esq.,” said our hero, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“A young gentleman on the way to fame and fortune,” added Fosdick. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +Here ends the story of Ragged Dick. As Fosdick said, he is Ragged Dick no +longer. He has taken a step upward, and is determined to mount still higher. +There are fresh adventures in store for him, and for others who have been +introduced in these pages. Those who have felt interested in his early life +will find his history continued in a new volume, forming the second of the +series, to be called,— +</p> + +<p class="center">F<small>AME AND</small> F<small>ORTUNE</small>;<br/> +<small>OR</small>,<br/> +T<small>HE</small> P<small>ROGRESS OF</small> R<small>ICHARD</small> +H<small>UNTER</small>. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAGGED DICK ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac9f1e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #5348 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5348) diff --git a/old/5348.txt b/old/5348.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dba60fc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/5348.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7387 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ragged Dick, by Horatio Alger + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ragged Dick + Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot-Blacks + +Author: Horatio Alger + +Release Date: October 5, 2004 [EBook #5348] +[Date last updated: May 1, 2006] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAGGED DICK *** + + + + +Digitized by Cardinalis Etext Press [C.E.K.] +Prepared for Project Gutenberg by Andrew Sly + + + + + +RAGGED DICK; + +OR, + +STREET LIFE IN NEW YORK WITH THE BOOT-BLACKS. + +BY HORATIO ALGER JR. + + + + To Joseph W. Allen, + at whose suggestion this story was undertaken, + it is inscribed with friendly regard. + + + +PREFACE + + +"Ragged Dick" was contributed as a serial story to the pages of the +Schoolmate, a well-known juvenile magazine, during the year 1867. +While in course of publication, it was received with so many +evidences of favor that it has been rewritten and considerably +enlarged, and is now presented to the public as the first volume +of a series intended to illustrate the life and experiences of the +friendless and vagrant children who are now numbered by thousands +in New York and other cities. + +Several characters in the story are sketched from life. The +necessary information has been gathered mainly from personal +observation and conversations with the boys themselves. The author +is indebted also to the excellent Superintendent of the Newsboys' +Lodging House, in Fulton Street, for some facts of which he has been +able to make use. Some anachronisms may be noted. Wherever they +occur, they have been admitted, as aiding in the development of the +story, and will probably be considered as of little importance in +an unpretending volume, which does not aspire to strict historical +accuracy. + +The author hopes that, while the volumes in this series may prove +interesting stories, they may also have the effect of enlisting the +sympathies of his readers in behalf of the unfortunate children whose +life is described, and of leading them to co-operate with the +praiseworthy efforts now making by the Children's Aid Society and +other organizations to ameliorate their condition. + +New York, April, 1868 + + + +CHAPTER I + +RAGGED DICK IS INTRODUCED TO THE READER + + +"Wake up there, youngster," said a rough voice. + +Ragged Dick opened his eyes slowly, and stared stupidly in the face +of the speaker, but did not offer to get up. + +"Wake up, you young vagabond!" said the man a little impatiently; +"I suppose you'd lay there all day, if I hadn't called you." + +"What time is it?" asked Dick. + +"Seven o'clock." + +"Seven o'clock! I oughter've been up an hour ago. I know what 'twas +made me so precious sleepy. I went to the Old Bowery last night, and +didn't turn in till past twelve." + +"You went to the Old Bowery? Where'd you get your money?" asked the +man, who was a porter in the employ of a firm doing business on +Spruce Street. "Made it by shines, in course. My guardian don't +allow me no money for theatres, so I have to earn it." + +"Some boys get it easier than that," said the porter significantly. + +"You don't catch me stealin', if that's what you mean," said Dick. + +"Don't you ever steal, then?" + +"No, and I wouldn't. Lots of boys does it, but I wouldn't." + +"Well, I'm glad to hear you say that. I believe there's some +good in you, Dick, after all." + +"Oh, I'm a rough customer!" said Dick. "But I wouldn't steal. +It's mean." + +"I'm glad you think so, Dick," and the rough voice sounded gentler +than at first. "Have you got any money to buy your breakfast?" + +"No, but I'll soon get some." + +While this conversation had been going on, Dick had got up. His +bedchamber had been a wooden box half full of straw, on which the +young boot-black had reposed his weary limbs, and slept as soundly +as if it had been a bed of down. He dumped down into the straw +without taking the trouble of undressing. + +Getting up too was an equally short process. He jumped out of the +box, shook himself, picked out one or two straws that had found +their way into rents in his clothes, and, drawing a well-worn cap +over his uncombed locks, he was all ready for the business of the +day. + +Dick's appearance as he stood beside the box was rather peculiar. +His pants were torn in several places, and had apparently belonged +in the first instance to a boy two sizes larger than himself. He +wore a vest, all the buttons of which were gone except two, out of +which peeped a shirt which looked as if it had been worn a month. +To complete his costume he wore a coat too long for him, dating +back, if one might judge from its general appearance, to a remote +antiquity. + +Washing the face and hands is usually considered proper in +commencing the day, but Dick was above such refinement. He had no +particular dislike to dirt, and did not think it necessary to remove +several dark streaks on his face and hands. But in spite of his dirt +and rags there was something about Dick that was attractive. It was +easy to see that if he had been clean and well dressed he would +have been decidedly good-looking. Some of his companions were sly, +and their faces inspired distrust; but Dick had a frank, +straight-forward manner that made him a favorite. + +Dick's business hours had commenced. He had no office to open. His +little blacking-box was ready for use, and he looked sharply in +the faces of all who passed, addressing each with, "Shine yer +boots, sir?" + +"How much?" asked a gentleman on his way to his office. + +"Ten cents," said Dick, dropping his box, and sinking upon his knees +on the sidewalk, flourishing his brush with the air of one skilled +in his profession. + +"Ten cents! Isn't that a little steep?" + +"Well, you know 'taint all clear profit," said Dick, who had already +set to work. "There's the _blacking_ costs something, and I have to +get a new brush pretty often." + +"And you have a large rent too," said the gentleman quizzically, +with a glance at a large hole in Dick's coat. + +"Yes, sir," said Dick, always ready to joke; "I have to pay such a +big rent for my manshun up on Fifth Avenoo, that I can't afford to +take less than ten cents a shine. I'll give you a bully shine, sir." + +"Be quick about it, for I am in a hurry. So your house is on Fifth +Avenue, is it?" + +"It isn't anywhere else," said Dick, and Dick spoke the truth there. + +"What tailor do you patronize?" asked the gentleman, +surveying Dick's attire. + +"Would you like to go to the same one?" asked Dick, shrewdly. + +"Well, no; it strikes me that he didn't give you a very good fit." + +"This coat once belonged to General Washington," said Dick, +comically. "He wore it all through the Revolution, and it got torn +some, 'cause he fit so hard. When he died he told his widder to give +it to some smart young feller that hadn't got none of his own; so +she gave it to me. But if you'd like it, sir, to remember General +Washington by, I'll let you have it reasonable." + +"Thank you, but I wouldn't want to deprive you of it. And did your +pants come from General Washington too?" + +"No, they was a gift from Lewis Napoleon. Lewis had outgrown 'em +and sent 'em to me,--he's bigger than me, and that's why they +don't fit." + +"It seems you have distinguished friends. Now, my lad, I suppose you +would like your money." + +"I shouldn't have any objection," said Dick. + +"I believe," said the gentleman, examining his pocket-book, "I +haven't got anything short of twenty-five cents. Have you got +any change?" + +"Not a cent," said Dick. "All my money's invested in the Erie +Railroad." + +"That's unfortunate." + +"Shall I get the money changed, sir?" + +"I can't wait; I've got to meet an appointment immediately. I'll +hand you twenty-five cents, and you can leave the change at my +office any time during the day." + +"All right, sir. Where is it?" + +"No. 125 Fulton Street. Shall you remember?" + +"Yes, sir. What name?" + +"Greyson,--office on second floor." + +"All right, sir; I'll bring it." + +"I wonder whether the little scamp will prove honest," said Mr. +Greyson to himself, as he walked away. "If he does, I'll give him +my custom regularly. If he don't as is most likely, I shan't mind +the loss of fifteen cents." + +Mr. Greyson didn't understand Dick. Our ragged hero wasn't a model +boy in all respects. I am afraid he swore sometimes, and now and +then he played tricks upon unsophisticated boys from the country, +or gave a wrong direction to honest old gentlemen unused to the +city. A clergyman in search of the Cooper Institute he once directed +to the Tombs Prison, and, following him unobserved, was highly +delighted when the unsuspicious stranger walked up the front steps +of the great stone building on Centre Street, and tried to obtain +admission. + +"I guess he wouldn't want to stay long if he did get in," thought +Ragged Dick, hitching up his pants. "Leastways I shouldn't. They're +so precious glad to see you that they won't let you go, but board +you gratooitous, and never send in no bills." + +Another of Dick's faults was his extravagance. Being always +wide-awake and ready for business, he earned enough to have +supported him comfortably and respectably. There were not a few +young clerks who employed Dick from time to time in his professional +capacity, who scarcely earned as much as he, greatly as their style +and dress exceeded his. But Dick was careless of his earnings. Where +they went he could hardly have told himself. However much he managed +to earn during the day, all was generally spent before morning. He +was fond of going to the Old Bowery Theatre, and to Tony Pastor's, +and if he had any money left afterwards, he would invite some of +his friends in somewhere to have an oyster-stew; so it seldom +happened that he commenced the day with a penny. + +Then I am sorry to add that Dick had formed the habit of smoking. +This cost him considerable, for Dick was rather fastidious about his +cigars, and wouldn't smoke the cheapest. Besides, having a liberal +nature, he was generally ready to treat his companions. But of +course the expense was the smallest objection. No boy of fourteen +can smoke without being affected injuriously. Men are frequently +injured by smoking, and boys always. But large numbers of the +newsboys and boot-blacks form the habit. Exposed to the cold and wet +they find that it warms them up, and the self-indulgence grows upon +them. It is not uncommon to see a little boy, too young to be out +of his mother's sight, smoking with all the apparent satisfaction +of a veteran smoker. + +There was another way in which Dick sometimes lost money. There was +a noted gambling-house on Baxter Street, which in the evening was +sometimes crowded with these juvenile gamesters, who staked their +hard earnings, generally losing of course, and refreshing themselves +from time to time with a vile mixture of liquor at two cents a +glass. Sometimes Dick strayed in here, and played with the rest. + +I have mentioned Dick's faults and defects, because I want it +understood, to begin with, that I don't consider him a model boy. +But there were some good points about him nevertheless. He was above +doing anything mean or dishonorable. He would not steal, or cheat, +or impose upon younger boys, but was frank and straight-forward, +manly and self-reliant. His nature was a noble one, and had saved +him from all mean faults. I hope my young readers will like him as +I do, without being blind to his faults. Perhaps, although he was +only a boot-black, they may find something in him to imitate. + +And now, having fairly introduced Ragged Dick to my young readers, +I must refer them to the next chapter for his further adventures. + + + +CHAPTER II + +JOHNNY NOLAN + + +After Dick had finished polishing Mr. Greyson's boots he was +fortunate enough to secure three other customers, two of them +reporters in the Tribune establishment, which occupies the corner +of Spruce Street and Printing House Square. + +When Dick had got through with his last customer the City Hall clock +indicated eight o'clock. He had been up an hour, and hard at work, +and naturally began to think of breakfast. He went up to the head +of Spruce Street, and turned into Nassau. Two blocks further, and he +reached Ann Street. On this street was a small, cheap restaurant, +where for five cents Dick could get a cup of coffee, and for ten +cents more, a plate of beefsteak with a plate of bread thrown in. +These Dick ordered, and sat down at a table. + +It was a small apartment with a few plain tables unprovided with +cloths, for the class of customers who patronized it were not very +particular. Our hero's breakfast was soon before him. Neither the +coffee nor the steak were as good as can be bought at Delmonico's; +but then it is very doubtful whether, in the present state of his +wardrobe, Dick would have been received at that aristocratic +restaurant, even if his means had admitted of paying the high +prices there charged. + +Dick had scarcely been served when he espied a boy about his own +size standing at the door, looking wistfully into the restaurant. +This was Johnny Nolan, a boy of fourteen, who was engaged in the +same profession as Ragged Dick. His wardrobe was in very much the +same condition as Dick's. + +"Had your breakfast, Johnny?" inquired Dick, cutting off a piece of +steak. + +"No." + +"Come in, then. Here's room for you." + +"I aint got no money," said Johnny, looking a little enviously at +his more fortunate friend. + +"Haven't you had any shines?" + +"Yes, I had one, but I shan't get any pay till to-morrow." + +"Are you hungry?" + +"Try me, and see." + +"Come in. I'll stand treat this morning." + +Johnny Nolan was nowise slow to accept this invitation, and was soon +seated beside Dick. + +"What'll you have, Johnny?" + +"Same as you." + +"Cup o' coffee and beefsteak," ordered Dick. + +These were promptly brought, and Johnny attacked them vigorously. + +Now, in the boot-blacking business, as well as in higher avocations, +the same rule prevails, that energy and industry are rewarded, and +indolence suffers. Dick was energetic and on the alert for business, +but Johnny the reverse. The consequence was that Dick earned +probably three times as much as the other. + +"How do you like it?" asked Dick, surveying Johnny's attacks upon +the steak with evident complacency. + +"It's hunky." + +I don't believe "hunky" is to be found in either Webster's or +Worcester's big dictionary; but boys will readily understand what +it means. + +"Do you come here often?" asked Johnny. + +"Most every day. You'd better come too." + +"I can't afford it." + +"Well, you'd ought to, then," said Dick. "What do you do I'd +like to know?" + +"I don't get near as much as you, Dick." + +"Well you might if you tried. I keep my eyes open,--that's the way +I get jobs. You're lazy, that's what's the matter." + +Johnny did not see fit to reply to this charge. Probably he felt the +justice of it, and preferred to proceed with the breakfast, which he +enjoyed the more as it cost him nothing. + +Breakfast over, Dick walked up to the desk, and settled the bill. +Then, followed by Johnny, he went out into the street. + +"Where are you going, Johnny?" + +"Up to Mr. Taylor's, on Spruce Street, to see if he don't want a +shine." + +"Do you work for him reg'lar?" + +"Yes. Him and his partner wants a shine most every day. Where are +you goin'?" + +"Down front of the Astor House. I guess I'll find some customers +there." + +At this moment Johnny started, and, dodging into an entry way, hid +behind the door, considerably to Dick's surprise. + +"What's the matter now?" asked our hero. + +"Has he gone?" asked Johnny, his voice betraying anxiety. + +"Who gone, I'd like to know?" + +"That man in the brown coat." + +"What of him. You aint scared of him, are you?" + +"Yes, he got me a place once." + +"Where?" + +"Ever so far off." + +"What if he did?" + +"I ran away." + +"Didn't you like it?" + +"No, I had to get up too early. It was on a farm, and I had to get +up at five to take care of the cows. I like New York best." + +"Didn't they give you enough to eat?" + +"Oh, yes, plenty." + +"And you had a good bed?" + +"Yes." + +"Then you'd better have stayed. You don't get either of them here. +Where'd you sleep last night?" + +"Up an alley in an old wagon." + +"You had a better bed than that in the country, didn't you?" + +"Yes, it was as soft as--as cotton." + +Johnny had once slept on a bale of cotton, the recollection +supplying him with a comparison. + +"Why didn't you stay?" + +"I felt lonely," said Johnny. + +Johnny could not exactly explain his feelings, but it is often the +case that the young vagabond of the streets, though his food is +uncertain, and his bed may be any old wagon or barrel that he is +lucky enough to find unoccupied when night sets in, gets so attached +to his precarious but independent mode of life, that he feels +discontented in any other. He is accustomed to the noise and bustle +and ever-varied life of the streets, and in the quiet scenes of the +country misses the excitement in the midst of which he has always +dwelt. + +Johnny had but one tie to bind him to the city. He had a father +living, but he might as well have been without one. Mr. Nolan was +a confirmed drunkard, and spent the greater part of his wages for +liquor. His potations made him ugly, and inflamed a temper never +very sweet, working him up sometimes to such a pitch of rage that +Johnny's life was in danger. Some months before, he had thrown a +flat-iron at his son's head with such terrific force that unless +Johnny had dodged he would not have lived long enough to obtain a +place in our story. He fled the house, and from that time had not +dared to re-enter it. Somebody had given him a brush and box of +blacking, and he had set up in business on his own account. But he +had not energy enough to succeed, as has already been stated, and +I am afraid the poor boy had met with many hardships, and suffered +more than once from cold and hunger. Dick had befriended him more +than once, and often given him a breakfast or dinner, as the case +might be. + +"How'd you get away?" asked Dick, with some curiosity. "Did +you walk?" + +"No, I rode on the cars." + +"Where'd you get your money? I hope you didn't steal it." + +"I didn't have none." + +"What did you do, then?" + +"I got up about three o'clock, and walked to Albany." + +"Where's that?" asked Dick, whose ideas on the subject of geography +were rather vague. + +"Up the river." + +"How far?" + +"About a thousand miles," said Johnny, whose conceptions of distance +were equally vague. + +"Go ahead. What did you do then?" + +"I hid on top of a freight car, and came all the way without their +seeing me.* That man in the brown coat was the man that got me the +place, and I'm afraid he'd want to send me back." + +* A fact. + + +"Well," said Dick, reflectively, "I dunno as I'd like to live in the +country. I couldn't go to Tony Pastor's or the Old Bowery. There +wouldn't be no place to spend my evenings. But I say, it's tough in +winter, Johnny, 'specially when your overcoat's at the tailor's, an' +likely to stay there." + +"That's so, Dick. But I must be goin', or Mr. Taylor'll get somebody +else to shine his boots." + +Johnny walked back to Nassau Street, while Dick kept on his way to +Broadway. + +"That boy," soliloquized Dick, as Johnny took his departure, "aint +got no ambition. I'll bet he won't get five shines to-day. I'm glad +I aint like him. I couldn't go to the theatre, nor buy no cigars, +nor get half as much as I wanted to eat.--Shine yer boots, sir?" + +Dick always had an eye to business, and this remark was addressed to +a young man, dressed in a stylish manner, who was swinging a jaunty +cane. + +"I've had my boots blacked once already this morning, but this +confounded mud has spoiled the shine." + +"I'll make 'em all right, sir, in a minute." + +"Go ahead, then." + +The boots were soon polished in Dick's best style, which proved very +satisfactory, our hero being a proficient in the art. + +"I haven't got any change," said the young man, fumbling in his +pocket, "but here's a bill you may run somewhere and get changed. +I'll pay you five cents extra for your trouble." + +He handed Dick a two-dollar bill, which our hero took into a store +close by. + +"Will you please change that, sir?" said Dick, walking up to the +counter. + +The salesman to whom he proffered it took the bill, and, slightly +glancing at it, exclaimed angrily, "Be off, you young vagabond, or +I'll have you arrested." + +"What's the row?" + +"You've offered me a counterfeit bill." + +"I didn't know it," said Dick. + +"Don't tell me. Be off, or I'll have you arrested." + + + +CHAPTER III + +DICK MAKES A PROPOSITION + + +Though Dick was somewhat startled at discovering that the bill he +had offered was counterfeit, he stood his ground bravely. + +"Clear out of this shop, you young vagabond," repeated the clerk. + +"Then give me back my bill." + +"That you may pass it again? No, sir, I shall do no such thing." + +"It doesn't belong to me," said Dick. "A gentleman that owes me for +a shine gave it to me to change." + +"A likely story," said the clerk; but he seemed a little uneasy. + +"I'll go and call him," said Dick. + +He went out, and found his late customer standing on the Astor House +steps. + +"Well, youngster, have you brought back my change? You were a +precious long time about it. I began to think you had cleared out +with the money." + +"That aint my style," said Dick, proudly. + +"Then where's the change?" + +"I haven't got it." + +"Where's the bill then?" + +"I haven't got that either." + +"You young rascal!" + +"Hold on a minute, mister," said Dick, "and I'll tell you all about +it. The man what took the bill said it wasn't good, and kept it." + +"The bill was perfectly good. So he kept it, did he? I'll go with +you to the store, and see whether he won't give it back to me." + +Dick led the way, and the gentleman followed him into the store. +At the reappearance of Dick in such company, the clerk flushed a +little, and looked nervous. He fancied that he could browbeat a +ragged boot-black, but with a gentleman he saw that it would be a +different matter. He did not seem to notice the newcomers, but +began to replace some goods on the shelves. + +"Now," said the young man, "point out the clerk that has my money." + +"That's him," said Dick, pointing out the clerk. + +The gentleman walked up to the counter. + +"I will trouble you," he said a little haughtily, "for a bill which +that boy offered you, and which you still hold in your possession." + +"It was a bad bill," said the clerk, his cheek flushing, and his +manner nervous. + +"It was no such thing. I require you to produce it, and let the +matter be decided." + +The clerk fumbled in his vest-pocket, and drew out a bad-looking +bill. + +"This is a bad bill, but it is not the one I gave the boy." + +"It is the one he gave me." + +The young man looked doubtful. + +"Boy," he said to Dick, "is this the bill you gave to be changed?" + +"No, it isn't." + +"You lie, you young rascal!" exclaimed the clerk, who began to find +himself in a tight place, and could not see the way out. + +This scene naturally attracted the attention of all in the store, +and the proprietor walked up from the lower end, where he had been +busy. + +"What's all this, Mr. Hatch?" he demanded. + +"That boy," said the clerk, "came in and asked change for a bad +bill. I kept the bill, and told him to clear out. Now he wants it +again to pass on somebody else." + +"Show the bill." + +The merchant looked at it. "Yes, that's a bad bill," he said. "There +is no doubt about that." + +"But it is not the one the boy offered," said Dick's patron. +"It is one of the same denomination, but on a different bank." + +"Do you remember what bank it was on?" + +"It was on the Merchants' Bank of Boston." + +"Are you sure of it?" + +"I am." + +"Perhaps the boy kept it and offered the other." + +"You may search me if you want to," said Dick, indignantly. + +"He doesn't look as if he was likely to have any extra bills. I +suspect that your clerk pocketed the good bill, and has substituted +the counterfeit note. It is a nice little scheme of his for making +money." + +"I haven't seen any bill on the Merchants' Bank," said the clerk, +doggedly. + +"You had better feel in your pockets." + +"This matter must be investigated," said the merchant, firmly. "If +you have the bill, produce it." + +"I haven't got it," said the clerk; but he looked guilty +notwithstanding. + +"I demand that he be searched," said Dick's patron. + +"I tell you I haven't got it." + +"Shall I send for a police officer, Mr. Hatch, or will you allow +yourself to be searched quietly?" said the merchant. + +Alarmed at the threat implied in these words, the clerk put his hand +into his vest-pocket, and drew out a two-dollar bill on the +Merchants' Bank. + +"Is this your note?" asked the shopkeeper, showing it to the +young man. + +"It is." + +"I must have made a mistake," faltered the clerk. + +"I shall not give you a chance to make such another mistake in my +employ," said the merchant sternly. "You may go up to the desk and +ask for what wages are due you. I shall have no further occasion for +your services." + +"Now, youngster," said Dick's patron, as they went out of the store, +after he had finally got the bill changed. "I must pay you something +extra for your trouble. Here's fifty cents." + +"Thank you, sir," said Dick. "You're very kind. Don't you want some +more bills changed?" + +"Not to-day," said he with a smile. "It's too expensive." + +"I'm in luck," thought our hero complacently. "I guess I'll go to +Barnum's to-night, and see the bearded lady, the eight-foot giant, +the two-foot dwarf, and the other curiosities, too numerous to +mention." + +Dick shouldered his box and walked up as far as the Astor House. He +took his station on the sidewalk, and began to look about him. + +Just behind him were two persons,--one, a gentleman of fifty; the +other, a boy of thirteen or fourteen. They were speaking together, +and Dick had no difficulty in hearing what was said. + +"I am sorry, Frank, that I can't go about, and show you some of the +sights of New York, but I shall be full of business to-day. It is +your first visit to the city, too." + +"Yes, sir." + +"There's a good deal worth seeing here. But I'm afraid you'll have +to wait to next time. You can go out and walk by yourself, but don't +venture too far, or you will get lost." + +Frank looked disappointed. + +"I wish Tom Miles knew I was here," he said. "He would go around +with me." + +"Where does he live?" + +"Somewhere up town, I believe." + +"Then, unfortunately, he is not available. If you would rather go +with me than stay here, you can, but as I shall be most of the time +in merchants'-counting-rooms, I am afraid it would not be very +interesting." + +"I think," said Frank, after a little hesitation, "that I will go +off by myself. I won't go very far, and if I lose my way, I will +inquire for the Astor House." + +"Yes, anybody will direct you here. Very well, Frank, I am sorry I +can't do better for you." + +"Oh, never mind, uncle, I shall be amused in walking around, and +looking at the shop-windows. There will be a great deal to see." + +Now Dick had listened to all this conversation. Being an +enterprising young man, he thought he saw a chance for a +speculation, and determined to avail himself of it. + +Accordingly he stepped up to the two just as Frank's uncle was about +leaving, and said, "I know all about the city, sir; I'll show him +around, if you want me to." + +The gentleman looked a little curiously at the ragged figure before +him. + +"So you are a city boy, are you?" + +"Yes, sir," said Dick, "I've lived here ever since I was a baby." + +"And you know all about the public buildings, I suppose?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And the Central Park?" + +"Yes, sir. I know my way all round." + +The gentleman looked thoughtful. + +"I don't know what to say, Frank," he remarked after a while. "It is +rather a novel proposal. He isn't exactly the sort of guide I would +have picked out for you. Still he looks honest. He has an open face, +and I think can be depended upon." + +"I wish he wasn't so ragged and dirty," said Frank, who felt a +little shy about being seen with such a companion. + +"I'm afraid you haven't washed your face this morning," said Mr. +Whitney, for that was the gentleman's name. + +"They didn't have no wash-bowls at the hotel where I stopped," said +Dick. + +"What hotel did you stop at?" + +"The Box Hotel." + +"The Box Hotel?" + +"Yes, sir, I slept in a box on Spruce Street." + +Frank surveyed Dick curiously. + +"How did you like it?" he asked. + +"I slept bully." + +"Suppose it had rained." + +"Then I'd have wet my best clothes," said Dick. + +"Are these all the clothes you have?" + +"Yes, sir." + +Mr. Whitney spoke a few words to Frank, who seemed pleased with the +suggestion. + +"Follow me, my lad," he said. + +Dick in some surprise obeyed orders, following Mr. Whitney and Frank +into the hotel, past the office, to the foot of the staircase. Here +a servant of the hotel stopped Dick, but Mr. Whitney explained that +he had something for him to do, and he was allowed to proceed. + +They entered a long entry, and finally paused before a door. This +being opened a pleasant chamber was disclosed. + +"Come in, my lad," said Mr. Whitney. + +Dick and Frank entered. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +DICK'S NEW SUIT + + +"Now," said Mr. Whitney to Dick, "my nephew here is on his way to a +boarding-school. He has a suit of clothes in his trunk about half +worn. He is willing to give them to you. I think they will look +better than those you have on." + +Dick was so astonished that he hardly knew what to say. Presents +were something that he knew very little about, never having received +any to his knowledge. That so large a gift should be made to him by +a stranger seemed very wonderful. + +The clothes were brought out, and turned out to be a neat gray suit. + +"Before you put them on, my lad, you must wash yourself. Clean +clothes and a dirty skin don't go very well together. Frank, you may +attend to him. I am obliged to go at once. Have you got as much +money as you require?" + +"Yes, uncle." + +"One more word, my lad," said Mr. Whitney, addressing Dick; "I may +be rash in trusting a boy of whom I know nothing, but I like your +looks, and I think you will prove a proper guide for my nephew." + +"Yes, I will, sir," said Dick, earnestly. "Honor bright!" + +"Very well. A pleasant time to you." + +The process of cleansing commenced. To tell the truth Dick needed +it, and the sensation of cleanliness he found both new and pleasant. +Frank added to his gift a shirt, stockings, and an old pair of +shoes. "I am sorry I haven't any cap," said he. + +"I've got one," said Dick. + +"It isn't so new as it might be," said Frank, surveying an old felt +hat, which had once been black, but was now dingy, with a large hole +in the top and a portion of the rim torn off. + +"No," said Dick; "my grandfather used to wear it when he was a boy, +and I've kep' it ever since out of respect for his memory. But I'll +get a new one now. I can buy one cheap on Chatham Street." + +"Is that near here?" + +"Only five minutes' walk." + +"Then we can get one on the way." + +When Dick was dressed in his new attire, with his face and hands +clean, and his hair brushed, it was difficult to imagine that he was +the same boy. + +He now looked quite handsome, and might readily have been taken for +a young gentleman, except that his hands were red and grimy. + +"Look at yourself," said Frank, leading him before the mirror. + +"By gracious!" said Dick, starting back in astonishment, "that isn't +me, is it?" + +"Don't you know yourself?" asked Frank, smiling. + +"It reminds me of Cinderella," said Dick, "when she was changed into +a fairy princess. I see it one night at Barnum's. What'll Johnny +Nolan say when he sees me? He won't dare to speak to such a young +swell as I be now. Aint it rich?" and Dick burst into a loud laugh. +His fancy was tickled by the anticipation of his friend's surprise. +Then the thought of the valuable gifts he had received occurred to +him, and he looked gratefully at Frank. + +"You're a brick," he said. + +"A what?" + +"A brick! You're a jolly good fellow to give me such a present." + +"You're quite welcome, Dick," said Frank, kindly. "I'm better off +than you are, and I can spare the clothes just as well as not. You +must have a new hat though. But that we can get when we go out. The +old clothes you can make into a bundle." + +"Wait a minute till I get my handkercher," and Dick pulled from the +pocket of the pants a dirty rag, which might have been white once, +though it did not look like it, and had apparently once formed a +part of a sheet or shirt. + +"You mustn't carry that," said Frank. + +"But I've got a cold," said Dick. + +"Oh, I don't mean you to go without a handkerchief. I'll give you +one." + +Frank opened his trunk and pulled out two, which he gave to Dick. + +"I wonder if I aint dreamin'," said Dick, once more surveying +himself doubtfully in the glass. "I'm afraid I'm dreamin', and shall +wake up in a barrel, as I did night afore last." + +"Shall I pinch you so you can wake here?" asked Frank, playfully. + +"Yes," said Dick, seriously, "I wish you would." + +He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, and Frank pinched him pretty +hard, so that Dick winced. + +"Yes, I guess I'm awake," said Dick; "you've got a pair of nippers, +you have. But what shall I do with my brush and blacking?" he asked. + +"You can leave them here till we come back," said Frank. "They will +be safe." + +"Hold on a minute," said Dick, surveying Frank's boots with a +professional eye, "you aint got a good shine on them boots. I'll +make 'em shine so you can see your face in 'em." + +And he was as good as his word. + +"Thank you," said Frank; "now you had better brush your own shoes." + +This had not occurred to Dick, for in general the professional +boot-black considers his blacking too valuable to expend on his +own shoes or boots, if he is fortunate enough to possess a pair. + +The two boys now went downstairs together. They met the same servant +who had spoken to Dick a few minutes before, but there was no +recognition. + +"He don't know me," said Dick. "He thinks I'm a young swell like +you." + +"What's a swell?" + +"Oh, a feller that wears nobby clothes like you." + +"And you, too, Dick." + +"Yes," said Dick, "who'd ever have thought as I should have turned +into a swell?" + +They had now got out on Broadway, and were slowly walking along the +west side by the Park, when who should Dick see in front of him, but +Johnny Nolan? + +Instantly Dick was seized with a fancy for witnessing Johnny's +amazement at his change in appearance. He stole up behind him, and +struck him on the back. + +"Hallo, Johnny, how many shines have you had?" + +Johnny turned round expecting to see Dick, whose voice he +recognized, but his astonished eyes rested on a nicely dressed +boy (the hat alone excepted) who looked indeed like Dick, but +so transformed in dress that it was difficult to be sure of +his identity. + +"What luck, Johnny?" repeated Dick. + +Johnny surveyed him from head to foot in great bewilderment. + +"Who be you?" he said. + +"Well, that's a good one," laughed Dick; "so you don't know Dick?" + +"Where'd you get all them clothes?" asked Johnny. "Have you been +stealin'?" + +"Say that again, and I'll lick you. No, I've lent my clothes to a +young feller as was goin' to a party, and didn't have none fit to +wear, and so I put on my second-best for a change." + +Without deigning any further explanation, Dick went off, followed +by the astonished gaze of Johnny Nolan, who could not quite make up +his mind whether the neat-looking boy he had been talking with was +really Ragged Dick or not. + +In order to reach Chatham Street it was necessary to cross Broadway. +This was easier proposed than done. There is always such a throng +of omnibuses, drays, carriages, and vehicles of all kinds in the +neighborhood of the Astor House, that the crossing is formidable +to one who is not used to it. Dick made nothing of it, dodging in +and out among the horses and wagons with perfect self-possession. +Reaching the opposite sidewalk, he looked back, and found that +Frank had retreated in dismay, and that the width of the street +was between them. + +"Come across!" called out Dick. + +"I don't see any chance," said Frank, looking anxiously at the +prospect before him. "I'm afraid of being run over." + +"If you are, you can sue 'em for damages," said Dick. + +Finally Frank got safely over after several narrow escapes, as he +considered them. + +"Is it always so crowded?" he asked. + +"A good deal worse sometimes," said Dick. "I knowed a young man once +who waited six hours for a chance to cross, and at last got run +over by an omnibus, leaving a widder and a large family of orphan +children. His widder, a beautiful young woman, was obliged to start +a peanut and apple stand. There she is now." + +"Where?" + +Dick pointed to a hideous old woman, of large proportions, wearing a +bonnet of immense size, who presided over an apple-stand close by. + +Frank laughed. + +"If that is the case," he said, "I think I will patronize her." + +"Leave it to me," said Dick, winking. + +He advanced gravely to the apple-stand, and said, "Old lady, +have you paid your taxes?" + +The astonished woman opened her eyes. + +"I'm a gov'ment officer," said Dick, "sent by the mayor to collect +your taxes. I'll take it in apples just to oblige. That big red one +will about pay what you're owin' to the gov'ment." + +"I don't know nothing about no taxes," said the old woman, in +bewilderment. + +"Then," said Dick, "I'll let you off this time. Give us two of +your best apples, and my friend here, the President of the Common +Council, will pay you." + +Frank smiling, paid three cents apiece for the apples, and they +sauntered on, Dick remarking, "If these apples aint good, old lady, +we'll return 'em, and get our money back." This would have been +rather difficult in his case, as the apple was already half +consumed. + +Chatham Street, where they wished to go, being on the East side, the +two boys crossed the Park. This is an enclosure of about ten acres, +which years ago was covered with a green sward, but is now a great +thoroughfare for pedestrians and contains several important public +buildings. Dick pointed out the City Hall, the Hall of Records, and +the Rotunda. The former is a white building of large size, and +surmounted by a cupola. + +"That's where the mayor's office is," said Dick. "Him and me +are very good friends. I once blacked his boots by partic'lar +appointment. That's the way I pay my city taxes." + + + +CHAPTER V + +CHATHAM STREET AND BROADWAY + + +They were soon in Chatham Street, walking between rows of ready-made +clothing shops, many of which had half their stock in trade exposed +on the sidewalk. The proprietors of these establishments stood at +the doors, watching attentively the passersby, extending urgent +invitations to any who even glanced at the goods to enter. + +"Walk in, young gentlemen," said a stout man, at the entrance of one +shop. + +"No, I thank you," replied Dick, "as the fly said to the spider." + +"We're selling off at less than cost." + +"Of course you be. That's where you makes your money," said Dick. +"There aint nobody of any enterprise that pretends to make any +profit on his goods." + +The Chatham Street trader looked after our hero as if he didn't +quite comprehend him; but Dick, without waiting for a reply, passed +on with his companion. + +In some of the shops auctions seemed to be going on. + +"I am only offered two dollars, gentlemen, for this elegant pair +of doeskin pants, made of the very best of cloth. It's a frightful +sacrifice. Who'll give an eighth? Thank you, sir. Only seventeen +shillings! Why the cloth cost more by the yard!" + +This speaker was standing on a little platform haranguing to three +men, holding in his hand meanwhile a pair of pants very loose in +the legs, and presenting a cheap Bowery look. + +Frank and Dick paused before the shop door, and finally saw them +knocked down to rather a verdant-looking individual at three +dollars. + +"Clothes seem to be pretty cheap here," said Frank. + +"Yes, but Baxter Street is the cheapest place." + +"Is it?" + +"Yes. Johnny Nolan got a whole rig-out there last week, for a +dollar,--coat, cap, vest, pants, and shoes. They was very good +measure, too, like my best clothes that I took off to oblige you." + +"I shall know where to come for clothes next time," said Frank, +laughing. "I had no idea the city was so much cheaper than the +country. I suppose the Baxter Street tailors are fashionable?" + +"In course they are. Me and Horace Greeley always go there for +clothes. When Horace gets a new suit, I always have one made just +like it; but I can't go the white hat. It aint becomin' to my +style of beauty." + +A little farther on a man was standing out on the sidewalk, +distributing small printed handbills. One was handed to Frank, +which he read as follows,-- + +"GRAND CLOSING-OUT SALE!--A variety of Beautiful and Costly +Articles for Sale, at a Dollar apiece. Unparalleled Inducements! +Walk in, Gentlemen!" + +"Whereabouts is this sale?" asked Frank. + +"In here, young gentlemen," said a black-whiskered individual, +who appeared suddenly on the scene. "Walk in." + +"Shall we go in, Dick?" + +"It's a swindlin' shop," said Dick, in a low voice. "I've been +there. That man's a regular cheat. He's seen me before, but he +don't know me coz of my clothes." + +"Step in and see the articles," said the man, persuasively. "You +needn't buy, you know." + +"Are all the articles worth more'n a dollar?" asked Dick. + +"Yes," said the other, "and some worth a great deal more." + +"Such as what?" + +"Well, there's a silver pitcher worth twenty dollars." + +"And you sell it for a dollar. That's very kind of you," said Dick, +innocently. + +"Walk in, and you'll understand it." + +"No, I guess not," said Dick. "My servants is so dishonest that I +wouldn't like to trust 'em with a silver pitcher. Come along, Frank. +I hope you'll succeed in your charitable enterprise of supplyin' +the public with silver pitchers at nineteen dollars less than they +are worth." + +"How does he manage, Dick?" asked Frank, as they went on. + +"All his articles are numbered, and he makes you pay a dollar, and +then shakes some dice, and whatever the figgers come to, is the +number of the article you draw. Most of 'em aint worth sixpence." + +A hat and cap store being close at hand, Dick and Frank went in. For +seventy-five cents, which Frank insisted on paying, Dick succeeded +in getting quite a neat-looking cap, which corresponded much better +with his appearance than the one he had on. The last, not being +considered worth keeping, Dick dropped on the sidewalk, from which, +on looking back, he saw it picked up by a brother boot-black who +appeared to consider it better than his own. + +They retraced their steps and went up Chambers Street to Broadway. +At the corner of Broadway and Chambers Street is a large white +marble warehouse, which attracted Frank's attention. + +"What building is that?" he asked, with interest. + +"That belongs to my friend A. T. Stewart," said Dick. "It's the +biggest store on Broadway.* If I ever retire from boot-blackin', and +go into mercantile pursuits, I may buy him out, or build another +store that'll take the shine off this one." + +* Mr. Stewart's Tenth Street store was not open at the time +Dick spoke. + + +"Were you ever in the store?" asked Frank. + +"No," said Dick; "but I'm intimate with one of Stewart's partners. +He is a cash boy, and does nothing but take money all day." + +"A very agreeable employment," said Frank, laughing. + +"Yes," said Dick, "I'd like to be in it." + +The boys crossed to the West side of Broadway, and walked slowly up +the street. To Frank it was a very interesting spectacle. Accustomed +to the quiet of the country, there was something fascinating in the +crowds of people thronging the sidewalks, and the great variety of +vehicles constantly passing and repassing in the street. Then again +the shop-windows with their multifarious contents interested and +amused him, and he was constantly checking Dick to look in at some +well-stocked window. + +"I don't see how so many shopkeepers can find people enough to buy +of them," he said. "We haven't got but two stores in our village, +and Broadway seems to be full of them." + +"Yes," said Dick; "and its pretty much the same in the avenoos, +'specially the Third, Sixth, and Eighth avenoos. The Bowery, too, +is a great place for shoppin'. There everybody sells cheaper'n +anybody else, and nobody pretends to make no profit on their goods." + +"Where's Barnum's Museum?" asked Frank. + +"Oh, that's down nearly opposite the Astor House," said Dick. +"Didn't you see a great building with lots of flags?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, that's Barnum's.* That's where the Happy Family live, and the +lions, and bears, and curiosities generally. It's a tip-top place. +Haven't you ever been there? It's most as good as the Old Bowery, +only the plays isn't quite so excitin'." + +* Since destroyed by fire, and rebuilt farther up Broadway, +and again burned down in February. + + +"I'll go if I get time," said Frank. "There is a boy at home who +came to New York a month ago, and went to Barnum's, and has been +talking about it ever since, so I suppose it must be worth seeing." + +"They've got a great play at the Old Bowery now," pursued Dick. +"'Tis called the 'Demon of the Danube.' The Demon falls in love with +a young woman, and drags her by the hair up to the top of a steep +rock where his castle stands." + +"That's a queer way of showing his love," said Frank, laughing. + +"She didn't want to go with him, you know, but was in love with +another chap. When he heard about his girl bein' carried off, he +felt awful, and swore an oath not to rest till he had got her free. +Well, at last he got into the castle by some underground passage, +and he and the Demon had a fight. Oh, it was bully seein' 'em roll +round on the stage, cuttin' and slashin' at each other." + +"And which got the best of it?" + +"At first the Demon seemed to be ahead, but at last the young Baron +got him down, and struck a dagger into his heart, sayin', 'Die, +false and perjured villain! The dogs shall feast upon thy carcass!' +and then the Demon give an awful howl and died. Then the Baron +seized his body, and threw it over the precipice." + +"It seems to me the actor who plays the Demon ought to get extra +pay, if he has to be treated that way." + +"That's so," said Dick; "but I guess he's used to it. It seems to +agree with his constitution." + +"What building is that?" asked Frank, pointing to a structure +several rods back from the street, with a large yard in front. It +was an unusual sight for Broadway, all the other buildings in that +neighborhood being even with the street. + +"That is the New York Hospital," said Dick. "They're a rich +institution, and take care of sick people on very reasonable terms." + +"Did you ever go in there?" + +"Yes," said Dick; "there was a friend of mine, Johnny Mullen, he was +a newsboy, got run over by a omnibus as he was crossin' Broadway +down near Park Place. He was carried to the Hospital, and me and +some of his friends paid his board while he was there. It was only +three dollars a week, which was very cheap, considerin' all the care +they took of him. I got leave to come and see him while he was here. +Everything looked so nice and comfortable, that I thought a little +of coaxin' a omnibus driver to run over me, so I might go there +too." + +"Did your friend have to have his leg cut off?" asked Frank, +interested. + +"No," said Dick; "though there was a young student there that was +very anxious to have it cut off; but it wasn't done, and Johnny is +around the streets as well as ever." + +While this conversation was going on they reached No. 365, at the +corner of Franklin Street.* + +* Now the office of the Merchants' Union Express Company. + + +"That's Taylor's Saloon," said Dick. "When I come into a fortun' I +shall take my meals there reg'lar." + +"I have heard of it very often," said Frank. "It is said to be very +elegant. Suppose we go in and take an ice-cream. It will give us a +chance to see it to better advantage." + +"Thank you," said Dick; "I think that's the most agreeable way of +seein' the place myself." + +The boys entered, and found themselves in a spacious and elegant +saloon, resplendent with gilding, and adorned on all sides by costly +mirrors. They sat down to a small table with a marble top, and Frank +gave the order. + +"It reminds me of Aladdin's palace," said Frank, looking about him. + +"Does it?" said Dick; "he must have had plenty of money." + +"He had an old lamp, which he had only to rub, when the Slave of the +Lamp would appear, and do whatever he wanted." + +"That must have been a valooable lamp. I'd be willin' to give all my +Erie shares for it." + +There was a tall, gaunt individual at the next table, who apparently +heard this last remark of Dick's. Turning towards our hero, he said, +"May I inquire, young man, whether you are largely interested in +this Erie Railroad?" + +"I haven't got no property except what's invested in Erie," said +Dick, with a comical side-glance at Frank. + +"Indeed! I suppose the investment was made by your guardian." + +"No," said Dick; "I manage my property myself." + +"And I presume your dividends have not been large?" + +"Why, no," said Dick; "you're about right there. They haven't." + +"As I supposed. It's poor stock. Now, my young friend, I can +recommend a much better investment, which will yield you a large +annual income. I am agent of the Excelsior Copper Mining Company, +which possesses one of the most productive mines in the world. It's +sure to yield fifty per cent. on the investment. Now, all you have +to do is to sell out your Erie shares, and invest in our stock, and +I'll insure you a fortune in three years. How many shares did you +say you had?" + +"I didn't say, that I remember," said Dick. "Your offer is very kind +and obligin', and as soon as I get time I'll see about it." + +"I hope you will," said the stranger. "Permit me to give you my +card. 'Samuel Snap, No. -- Wall Street.' I shall be most happy to +receive a call from you, and exhibit the maps of our mine. I should +be glad to have you mention the matter also to your friends. I am +confident you could do no greater service than to induce them to +embark in our enterprise." + +"Very good," said Dick. + +Here the stranger left the table, and walked up to the desk to +settle his bill. + +"You see what it is to be a man of fortun', Frank," said Dick, "and +wear good clothes. I wonder what that chap'll say when he sees me +blackin' boots to-morrow in the street?" + +"Perhaps you earn your money more honorably than he does, after +all," said Frank. "Some of these mining companies are nothing but +swindles, got up to cheat people out of their money." + +"He's welcome to all he gets out of me," said Dick. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +UP BROADWAY TO MADISON SQUARE + + +As the boys pursued their way up Broadway, Dick pointed out the +prominent hotels and places of amusement. Frank was particularly +struck with the imposing fronts of the St. Nicholas and Metropolitan +Hotels, the former of white marble, the latter of a subdued brown +hue, but not less elegant in its internal appointments. He was not +surprised to be informed that each of these splendid structures cost +with the furnishing not far from a million dollars. + +At Eighth Street Dick turned to the right, and pointed out the +Clinton Hall Building now occupied by the Mercantile Library, +comprising at that time over fifty thousand volumes.* + +* Now not far from one hundred thousand. + + +A little farther on they came to a large building standing by itself +just at the opening of Third and Fourth Avenues, and with one side +on each. + +"What is that building?" asked Frank. + +"That's the Cooper Institute," said Dick; "built by Mr. Cooper, +a particular friend of mine. Me and Peter Cooper used to go to +school together." + +"What is there inside?" asked Frank. + +"There's a hall for public meetin's and lectures in the basement, +and a readin' room and a picture gallery up above," said Dick. + +Directly opposite Cooper Institute, Frank saw a very large building +of brick, covering about an acre of ground. + +"Is that a hotel?" he asked. + +"No," said Dick; "that's the Bible House. It's the place where they +make Bibles. I was in there once,--saw a big pile of 'em." + +"Did you ever read the Bible?" asked Frank, who had some idea of the +neglected state of Dick's education. + +"No," said Dick; "I've heard it's a good book, but I never read one. +I aint much on readin'. It makes my head ache." + +"I suppose you can't read very fast." + +"I can read the little words pretty well, but the big ones is what +stick me." + +"If I lived in the city, you might come every evening to me, and I +would teach you." + +"Would you take so much trouble about me?" asked Dick, earnestly. + +"Certainly; I should like to see you getting on. There isn't much +chance of that if you don't know how to read and write." + +"You're a good feller," said Dick, gratefully. "I wish you did live +in New York. I'd like to know somethin'. Whereabouts do you live?" + +"About fifty miles off, in a town on the left bank of the Hudson. +I wish you'd come up and see me sometime. I would like to have you +come and stop two or three days." + +"Honor bright?" + +"I don't understand." + +"Do you mean it?" asked Dick, incredulously. + +"Of course I do. Why shouldn't I?" + +"What would your folks say if they knowed you asked a boot-black to +visit you?" + +"You are none the worse for being a boot-black, Dick." + +"I aint used to genteel society," said Dick. "I shouldn't know how +to behave." + +"Then I could show you. You won't be a boot-black all your life, you +know." + +"No," said Dick; "I'm goin' to knock off when I get to be ninety." + +"Before that, I hope," said Frank, smiling. + +"I really wish I could get somethin' else to do," said Dick, +soberly. "I'd like to be a office boy, and learn business, and grow +up 'spectable." + +"Why don't you try, and see if you can't get a place, Dick?" + +"Who'd take Ragged Dick?" + +"But you aint ragged now, Dick." + +"No," said Dick; "I look a little better than I did in my Washington +coat and Louis Napoleon pants. But if I got in a office, they +wouldn't give me more'n three dollars a week, and I couldn't live +'spectable on that." + +"No, I suppose not," said Frank, thoughtfully. "But you would get +more at the end of the first year." + +"Yes," said Dick; "but by that time I'd be nothin' but skin and +bones." + +Frank laughed. "That reminds me," he said, "of the story of an +Irishman, who, out of economy, thought he would teach his horse to +feed on shavings. So he provided the horse with a pair of green +spectacles which made the shavings look eatable. But unfortunately, +just as the horse got learned, he up and died." + +"The hoss must have been a fine specimen of architectur' by the time +he got through," remarked Dick. + +"Whereabouts are we now?" asked Frank, as they emerged from Fourth +Avenue into Union Square. + +"That is Union Park," said Dick, pointing to a beautiful enclosure, +in the centre of which was a pond, with a fountain playing. + +"Is that the statue of General Washington?" asked Frank, pointing to +a bronze equestrian statue, on a granite pedestal. + +"Yes," said Dick; "he's growed some since he was President. If +he'd been as tall as that when he fit in the Revolution, he'd have +walloped the Britishers some, I reckon." + +Frank looked up at the statue, which is fourteen and a half feet +high, and acknowledged the justice of Dick's remark. + +"How about the coat, Dick?" he asked. "Would it fit you?" + +"Well, it might be rather loose," said Dick, "I aint much more'n +ten feet high with my boots off." + +"No, I should think not," said Frank, smiling. "You're a queer boy, +Dick." + +"Well, I've been brought up queer. Some boys is born with a silver +spoon in their mouth. Victoria's boys is born with a gold spoon, set +with di'monds; but gold and silver was scarce when I was born, and +mine was pewter." + +"Perhaps the gold and silver will come by and by, Dick. Did you ever +hear of Dick Whittington?" + +"Never did. Was he a Ragged Dick?" + +"I shouldn't wonder if he was. At any rate he was very poor when he +was a boy, but he didn't stay so. Before he died, he became Lord +Mayor of London." + +"Did he?" asked Dick, looking interested. "How did he do it?" + +"Why, you see, a rich merchant took pity on him, and gave him a +home in his own house, where he used to stay with the servants, +being employed in little errands. One day the merchant noticed Dick +picking up pins and needles that had been dropped, and asked him +why he did it. Dick told him he was going to sell them when he got +enough. The merchant was pleased with his saving disposition, and +when soon after, he was going to send a vessel to foreign parts, he +told Dick he might send anything he pleased in it, and it should +be sold to his advantage. Now Dick had nothing in the world but a +kitten which had been given him a short time before." + +"How much taxes did he have to pay on it?" asked Dick. + +"Not very high, probably. But having only the kitten, he concluded +to send it along. After sailing a good many months, during which the +kitten grew up to be a strong cat, the ship touched at an island +never before known, which happened to be infested with rats and +mice to such an extent that they worried everybody's life out, and +even ransacked the king's palace. To make a long story short, the +captain, seeing how matters stood, brought Dick's cat ashore, +and she soon made the rats and mice scatter. The king was highly +delighted when he saw what havoc she made among the rats and mice, +and resolved to have her at any price. So he offered a great +quantity of gold for her, which, of course, the captain was glad +to accept. It was faithfully carried back to Dick, and laid the +foundation of his fortune. He prospered as he grew up, and in time +became a very rich merchant, respected by all, and before he died +was elected Lord Mayor of London." + +"That's a pretty good story," said Dick; "but I don't believe all the +cats in New York will ever make me mayor." + +"No, probably not, but you may rise in some other way. A good many +distinguished men have once been poor boys. There's hope for you, +Dick, if you'll try." + +"Nobody ever talked to me so before," said Dick. "They just called +me Ragged Dick, and told me I'd grow up to be a vagabone (boys who +are better educated need not be surprised at Dick's blunders) and +come to the gallows." + +"Telling you so won't make it turn out so, Dick. If you'll try to +be somebody, and grow up into a respectable member of society, you +will. You may not become rich,--it isn't everybody that becomes +rich, you know--but you can obtain a good position, and be +respected." + +"I'll try," said Dick, earnestly. "I needn't have been Ragged Dick +so long if I hadn't spent my money in goin' to the theatre, and +treatin' boys to oyster-stews, and bettin' money on cards, and +such like." + +"Have you lost money that way?" + +"Lots of it. One time I saved up five dollars to buy me a new +rig-out, cos my best suit was all in rags, when Limpy Jim wanted +me to play a game with him." + +"Limpy Jim?" said Frank, interrogatively. + +"Yes, he's lame; that's what makes us call him Limpy Jim." + +"I suppose you lost?" + +"Yes, I lost every penny, and had to sleep out, cos I hadn't a cent +to pay for lodgin'. 'Twas a awful cold night, and I got most froze." + +"Wouldn't Jim let you have any of the money he had won to pay for a +lodging?" + +"No; I axed him for five cents, but he wouldn't let me have it." + +"Can you get lodging for five cents?" asked Frank, in surprise. + +"Yes," said Dick, "but not at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. That's it +right out there." + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE POCKET-BOOK + + +They had reached the junction of Broadway and of Fifth Avenue. +Before them was a beautiful park of ten acres. On the left-hand side +was a large marble building, presenting a fine appearance with its +extensive white front. This was the building at which Dick pointed. + +"Is that the Fifth Avenue Hotel?" asked Frank. "I've heard of it +often. My Uncle William always stops there when he comes to New +York." + +"I once slept on the outside of it," said Dick. "They was very +reasonable in their charges, and told me I might come again." + +"Perhaps sometime you'll be able to sleep inside," said Frank. + +"I guess that'll be when Queen Victoria goes to the Five Points +to live." + +"It looks like a palace," said Frank. "The queen needn't be ashamed +to live in such a beautiful building as that." + +Though Frank did not know it, one of the queen's palaces is far +from being as fine a looking building as the Fifth Avenue Hotel. +St. James' Palace is a very ugly-looking brick structure, and +appears much more like a factory than like the home of royalty. +There are few hotels in the world as fine-looking as this +democratic institution. + +At that moment a gentleman passed them on the sidewalk, who looked +back at Dick, as if his face seemed familiar. + +"I know that man," said Dick, after he had passed. "He's one of my +customers." + +"What is his name?" + +"I don't know." + +"He looked back as if he thought he knew you." + +"He would have knowed me at once if it hadn't been for my new +clothes," said Dick. "I don't look much like Ragged Dick now." + +"I suppose your face looked familiar." + +"All but the dirt," said Dick, laughing. "I don't always have the +chance of washing my face and hands in the Astor House." + +"You told me," said Frank, "that there was a place where you could +get lodging for five cents. Where's that?" + +"It's the News-boys' Lodgin' House, on Fulton Street," said Dick, +"up over the 'Sun' office. It's a good place. I don't know what us +boys would do without it. They give you supper for six cents, and +a bed for five cents more." + +"I suppose some boys don't even have the five cents to pay,--do +they?" + +"They'll trust the boys," said Dick. "But I don't like to get +trusted. I'd be ashamed to get trusted for five cents, or ten +either. One night I was comin' down Chatham Street, with fifty +cents in my pocket. I was goin' to get a good oyster-stew, and then +go to the lodgin' house; but somehow it slipped through a hole in +my trowses-pocket, and I hadn't a cent left. If it had been summer +I shouldn't have cared, but it's rather tough stayin' out winter +nights." + +Frank, who had always possessed a good home of his own, found +it hard to realize that the boy who was walking at his side had +actually walked the streets in the cold without a home, or money +to procure the common comfort of a bed. + +"What did you do?" he asked, his voice full of sympathy. + +"I went to the 'Times' office. I knowed one of the pressmen, and he +let me set down in a corner, where I was warm, and I soon got fast +asleep." + +"Why don't you get a room somewhere, and so always have a home to +go to?" + +"I dunno," said Dick. "I never thought of it. P'rhaps I may hire a +furnished house on Madison Square." + +"That's where Flora McFlimsey lived." + +"I don't know her," said Dick, who had never read the popular poem +of which she is the heroine. + +While this conversation was going on, they had turned into +Twenty-fifth Street, and had by this time reached Third Avenue. + +Just before entering it, their attention was drawn to the rather +singular conduct of an individual in front of them. Stopping +suddenly, he appeared to pick up something from the sidewalk, +and then looked about him in rather a confused way. + +"I know his game," whispered Dick. "Come along and you'll see what +it is." + +He hurried Frank forward until they overtook the man, who had come +to a stand-still. + +"Have you found anything?" asked Dick. + +"Yes," said the man, "I've found this." + +He exhibited a wallet which seemed stuffed with bills, to judge from +its plethoric appearance. + +"Whew!" exclaimed Dick; "you're in luck." + +"I suppose somebody has lost it," said the man, "and will offer a +handsome reward." + +"Which you'll get." + +"Unfortunately I am obliged to take the next train to Boston. That's +where I live. I haven't time to hunt up the owner." + +"Then I suppose you'll take the pocket-book with you," said Dick, +with assumed simplicity. + +"I should like to leave it with some honest fellow who would see it +returned to the owner," said the man, glancing at the boys. + +"I'm honest," said Dick. + +"I've no doubt of it," said the other. "Well, young man, I'll make +you an offer. You take the pocket-book--" + +"All right. Hand it over, then." + +"Wait a minute. There must be a large sum inside. I shouldn't wonder +if there might be a thousand dollars. The owner will probably give +you a hundred dollars reward." + +"Why don't you stay and get it?" asked Frank. + +"I would, only there is sickness in my family, and I must get home +as soon as possible. Just give me twenty dollars, and I'll hand you +the pocket-book, and let you make whatever you can out of it. Come, +that's a good offer. What do you say?" + +Dick was well dressed, so that the other did not regard it as at all +improbable that he might possess that sum. He was prepared, however, +to let him have it for less, if necessary. + +"Twenty dollars is a good deal of money," said Dick, appearing to +hesitate. + +"You'll get it back, and a good deal more," said the stranger, +persuasively. + +"I don't know but I shall. What would you do, Frank?" + +"I don't know but I would," said Frank, "if you've got the money." +He was not a little surprised to think that Dick had so much by him. + +"I don't know but I will," said Dick, after some irresolution. "I +guess I won't lose much." + +"You can't lose anything," said the stranger briskly. "Only be +quick, for I must be on my way to the cars. I am afraid I shall miss +them now." + +Dick pulled out a bill from his pocket, and handed it to the +stranger, receiving the pocket-book in return. At that moment a +policeman turned the corner, and the stranger, hurriedly thrusting +the bill into his pocket, without looking at it, made off with +rapid steps. + +"What is there in the pocket-book, Dick?" asked Frank in some +excitement. "I hope there's enough to pay you for the money you +gave him." + +Dick laughed. + +"I'll risk that," said he. + +"But you gave him twenty dollars. That's a good deal of money." + +"If I had given him as much as that, I should deserve to be cheated +out of it." + +"But you did,--didn't you?" + +"He thought so." + +"What was it, then?" + +"It was nothing but a dry-goods circular got up to imitate a +bank-bill." + +Frank looked sober. + +"You ought not to have cheated him, Dick," he said, reproachfully. + +"Didn't he want to cheat me?" + +"I don't know." + +"What do you s'pose there is in that pocket-book?" asked Dick, +holding it up. + +Frank surveyed its ample proportions, and answered sincerely enough, +"Money, and a good deal of it." + +"There aint stamps enough in it to buy a oyster-stew," said Dick. +"If you don't believe it, just look while I open it." + +So saying he opened the pocket-book, and showed Frank that it was +stuffed out with pieces of blank paper, carefully folded up in the +shape of bills. Frank, who was unused to city life, and had never +heard anything of the "drop-game" looked amazed at this unexpected +development. + +"I knowed how it was all the time," said Dick. "I guess I got the +best of him there. This wallet's worth somethin'. I shall use it to +keep my stiffkit's of Erie stock in, and all my other papers what +aint of no use to anybody but the owner." + +"That's the kind of papers it's got in it now," said Frank, smiling. + +"That's so!" said Dick. + +"By hokey!" he exclaimed suddenly, "if there aint the old chap +comin' back ag'in. He looks as if he'd heard bad news from his +sick family." + +By this time the pocket-book dropper had come up. + +Approaching the boys, he said in an undertone to Dick, "Give me back +that pocket-book, you young rascal!" + +"Beg your pardon, mister," said Dick, "but was you addressin' me?" + +"Yes, I was." + +"'Cause you called me by the wrong name. I've knowed some rascals, +but I aint the honor to belong to the family." + +He looked significantly at the other as he spoke, which didn't +improve the man's temper. Accustomed to swindle others, he did not +fancy being practised upon in return. + +"Give me back that pocket-book," he repeated in a threatening voice. + +"Couldn't do it," said Dick, coolly. "I'm go'n' to restore it to +the owner. The contents is so valooable that most likely the loss +has made him sick, and he'll be likely to come down liberal to the +honest finder." + +"You gave me a bogus bill," said the man. + +"It's what I use myself," said Dick. + +"You've swindled me." + +"I thought it was the other way." + +"None of your nonsense," said the man angrily. "If you don't give up +that pocket-book, I'll call a policeman." + +"I wish you would," said Dick. "They'll know most likely whether +it's Stewart or Astor that's lost the pocket-book, and I can get 'em +to return it." + +The "dropper," whose object it was to recover the pocket-book, in +order to try the same game on a more satisfactory customer, was +irritated by Dick's refusal, and above all by the coolness he +displayed. He resolved to make one more attempt. + +"Do you want to pass the night in the Tombs?" he asked. + +"Thank you for your very obligin' proposal," said Dick; "but it aint +convenient to-day. Any other time, when you'd like to have me come +and stop with you, I'm agreeable; but my two youngest children is +down with the measles, and I expect I'll have to set up all night +to take care of 'em. Is the Tombs, in gineral, a pleasant place of +residence?" + +Dick asked this question with an air of so much earnestness that +Frank could scarcely forbear laughing, though it is hardly necessary +to say that the dropper was by no means so inclined. + +"You'll know sometime," he said, scowling. + +"I'll make you a fair offer," said Dick. "If I get more'n fifty +dollars as a reward for my honesty, I'll divide with you. But I say, +aint it most time to go back to your sick family in Boston?" + +Finding that nothing was to be made out of Dick, the man strode away +with a muttered curse. + +"You were too smart for him, Dick," said Frank. + +"Yes," said Dick, "I aint knocked round the city streets all my life +for nothin'." + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +DICK'S EARLY HISTORY + + +"Have you always lived in New York, Dick?" asked Frank, after +a pause. + +"Ever since I can remember." + +"I wish you'd tell me a little about yourself. Have you got +any father or mother?" + +"I aint got no mother. She died when I wasn't but three years old. +My father went to sea; but he went off before mother died, and +nothin' was ever heard of him. I expect he got wrecked, or died +at sea." + +"And what became of you when your mother died?" + +"The folks she boarded with took care of me, but they was poor, and +they couldn't do much. When I was seven the woman died, and her +husband went out West, and then I had to scratch for myself." + +"At seven years old!" exclaimed Frank, in amazement. + +"Yes," said Dick, "I was a little feller to take care of myself, +but," he continued with pardonable pride, "I did it." + +"What could you do?" + +"Sometimes one thing, and sometimes another," said Dick. "I changed +my business accordin' as I had to. Sometimes I was a newsboy, and +diffused intelligence among the masses, as I heard somebody say once +in a big speech he made in the Park. Them was the times when Horace +Greeley and James Gordon Bennett made money." + +"Through your enterprise?" suggested Frank. + +"Yes," said Dick; "but I give it up after a while." + +"What for?" + +"Well, they didn't always put news enough in their papers, and +people wouldn't buy 'em as fast as I wanted 'em to. So one mornin' +I was stuck on a lot of Heralds, and I thought I'd make a sensation. +So I called out 'GREAT NEWS! QUEEN VICTORIA ASSASSINATED!' All my +Heralds went off like hot cakes, and I went off, too, but one of +the gentlemen what got sold remembered me, and said he'd have me +took up, and that's what made me change my business." + +"That wasn't right, Dick," said Frank. + +"I know it," said Dick; "but lots of boys does it." + +"That don't make it any better." + +"No," said Dick, "I was sort of ashamed at the time, 'specially +about one poor old gentleman,--a Englishman he was. He couldn't +help cryin' to think the queen was dead, and his hands shook when +he handed me the money for the paper." + +"What did you do next?" + +"I went into the match business," said Dick; "but it was small sales +and small profits. Most of the people I called on had just laid in +a stock, and didn't want to buy. So one cold night, when I hadn't +money enough to pay for a lodgin', I burned the last of my matches +to keep me from freezin'. But it cost too much to get warm that way, +and I couldn't keep it up." + +"You've seen hard times, Dick," said Frank, compassionately. + +"Yes," said Dick, "I've knowed what it was to be hungry and cold, +with nothin' to eat or to warm me; but there's one thing I never +could do," he added, proudly. + +"What's that?" + +"I never stole," said Dick. "It's mean and I wouldn't do it." + +"Were you ever tempted to?" + +"Lots of times. Once I had been goin' round all day, and hadn't sold +any matches, except three cents' worth early in the mornin'. With +that I bought an apple, thinkin' I should get some more bimeby. When +evenin' come I was awful hungry. I went into a baker's just to look +at the bread. It made me feel kind o' good just to look at the bread +and cakes, and I thought maybe they would give me some. I asked 'em +wouldn't they give me a loaf, and take their pay in matches. But +they said they'd got enough matches to last three months; so there +wasn't any chance for a trade. While I was standin' at the stove +warmin' me, the baker went into a back room, and I felt so hungry I +thought I would take just one loaf, and go off with it. There was +such a big pile I don't think he'd have known it." + +"But you didn't do it?" + +"No, I didn't and I was glad of it, for when the man came in ag'in, +he said he wanted some one to carry some cake to a lady in St. +Mark's Place. His boy was sick, and he hadn't no one to send; so he +told me he'd give me ten cents if I would go. My business wasn't +very pressin' just then, so I went, and when I come back, I took my +pay in bread and cakes. Didn't they taste good, though?" + +"So you didn't stay long in the match business, Dick?" + +"No, I couldn't sell enough to make it pay. Then there was some +folks that wanted me to sell cheaper to them; so I couldn't make any +profit. There was one old lady--she was rich, too, for she lived in +a big brick house--beat me down so, that I didn't make no profit at +all; but she wouldn't buy without, and I hadn't sold none that day; +so I let her have them. I don't see why rich folks should be so hard +upon a poor boy that wants to make a livin'." + +"There's a good deal of meanness in the world, I'm afraid, Dick." + +"If everybody was like you and your uncle," said Dick, "there would +be some chance for poor people. If I was rich I'd try to help 'em +along." + +"Perhaps you will be rich sometime, Dick." + +Dick shook his head. + +"I'm afraid all my wallets will be like this," said Dick, indicating +the one he had received from the dropper, "and will be full of +papers what aint of no use to anybody except the owner." + +"That depends very much on yourself, Dick," said Frank. "Stewart +wasn't always rich, you know." + +"Wasn't he?" + +"When he first came to New York as a young man he was a teacher, and +teachers are not generally very rich. At last he went into business, +starting in a small way, and worked his way up by degrees. But there +was one thing he determined in the beginning: that he would be +strictly honorable in all his dealings, and never overreach any one +for the sake of making money. If there was a chance for him, Dick, +there is a chance for you." + +"He knowed enough to be a teacher, and I'm awful ignorant," +said Dick. + +"But you needn't stay so." + +"How can I help it?" + +"Can't you learn at school?" + +"I can't go to school 'cause I've got my livin' to earn. It wouldn't +do me much good if I learned to read and write, and just as I'd got +learned I starved to death." + +"But are there no night-schools?" + +"Yes." + +"Why don't you go? I suppose you don't work in the evenings." + +"I never cared much about it," said Dick, "and that's the truth. But +since I've got to talkin' with you, I think more about it. I guess +I'll begin to go." + +"I wish you would, Dick. You'll make a smart man if you only get a +little education." + +"Do you think so?" asked Dick, doubtfully. + +"I know so. A boy who has earned his own living since he was seven +years old must have something in him. I feel very much interested in +you, Dick. You've had a hard time of it so far in life, but I think +better times are in store. I want you to do well, and I feel sure +you can if you only try." + +"You're a good fellow," said Dick, gratefully. "I'm afraid I'm a +pretty rough customer, but I aint as bad as some. I mean to turn +over a new leaf, and try to grow up 'spectable." + +"There've been a great many boys begin as low down as you, Dick, +that have grown up respectable and honored. But they had to work +pretty hard for it." + +"I'm willin' to work hard," said Dick. + +"And you must not only work hard, but work in the right way." + +"What's the right way?" + +"You began in the right way when you determined never to steal, or +do anything mean or dishonorable, however strongly tempted to do so. +That will make people have confidence in you when they come to know +you. But, in order to succeed well, you must manage to get as good +an education as you can. Until you do, you cannot get a position in +an office or counting-room, even to run errands." + +"That's so," said Dick, soberly. "I never thought how awful ignorant +I was till now." + +"That can be remedied with perseverance," said Frank. "A year will +do a great deal for you." + +"I'll go to work and see what I can do," said Dick, energetically. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A SCENE IN A THIRD AVENUE CAR + + +The boys had turned into Third Avenue, a long street, which, +commencing just below the Cooper Institute, runs out to Harlem. A +man came out of a side street, uttering at intervals a monotonous +cry which sounded like "glass puddin'." + +"Glass pudding!" repeated Frank, looking in surprised wonder at +Dick. "What does he mean?" + +"Perhaps you'd like some," said Dick. + +"I never heard of it before." + +"Suppose you ask him what he charges for his puddin'." + +Frank looked more narrowly at the man, and soon concluded that he +was a glazier. + +"Oh, I understand," he said. "He means 'glass put in.'" + +Frank's mistake was not a singular one. The monotonous cry of these +men certainly sounds more like "glass puddin'," than the words they +intend to utter. + +"Now," said Dick, "where shall we go?" + +"I should like to see Central Park," said Frank. "Is it far off?" + +"It is about a mile and a half from here," said Dick. "This is +Twenty-ninth Street, and the Park begins at Fifty-ninth Street." + +It may be explained, for the benefit of readers who have never +visited New York, that about a mile from the City Hall the +cross-streets begin to be numbered in regular order. There is a +continuous line of houses as far as One Hundred and Thirtieth +Street, where may be found the terminus of the Harlem line of +horse-cars. When the entire island is laid out and settled, probably +the numbers will reach two hundred or more. Central Park, which lies +between Fifty-ninth Street on the south, and One Hundred and Tenth +Street on the north, is true to its name, occupying about the centre +of the island. The distance between two parallel streets is called a +block, and twenty blocks make a mile. It will therefore be seen that +Dick was exactly right, when he said they were a mile and a half +from Central Park. + +"That is too far to walk," said Frank. + +"'Twon't cost but six cents to ride," said Dick. + +"You mean in the horse-cars?" + +"Yes." + +"All right then. We'll jump aboard the next car." + +The Third Avenue and Harlem line of horse-cars is better patronized +than any other in New York, though not much can be said for the +cars, which are usually dirty and overcrowded. Still, when it is +considered that only seven cents are charged for the entire distance +to Harlem, about seven miles from the City Hall, the fare can hardly +be complained of. But of course most of the profit is made from the +way-passengers who only ride a short distance. + +A car was at that moment approaching, but it seemed pretty crowded. + +"Shall we take that, or wait for another?" asked Frank. + +"The next'll most likely be as bad," said Dick. + +The boys accordingly signalled to the conductor to stop, and got +on the front platform. They were obliged to stand up till the car +reached Fortieth Street, when so many of the passengers had got off +that they obtained seats. + +Frank sat down beside a middle-aged woman, or lady, as she probably +called herself, whose sharp visage and thin lips did not seem to +promise a very pleasant disposition. When the two gentlemen who sat +beside her arose, she spread her skirts in the endeavor to fill two +seats. Disregarding this, the boys sat down. + +"There aint room for two," she said, looking sourly at Frank. + +"There were two here before." + +"Well, there ought not to have been. Some people like to crowd in +where they're not wanted." + +"And some like to take up a double allowance of room," thought +Frank; but he did not say so. He saw that the woman had a bad +temper, and thought it wisest to say nothing. + +Frank had never ridden up the city as far as this, and it was with +much interest that he looked out of the car windows at the stores on +either side. Third Avenue is a broad street, but in the character +of its houses and stores it is quite inferior to Broadway, though +better than some of the avenues further east. Fifth Avenue, as most +of my readers already know, is the finest street in the city, being +lined with splendid private residences, occupied by the wealthier +classes. Many of the cross streets also boast houses which may be +considered palaces, so elegant are they externally and internally. +Frank caught glimpses of some of these as he was carried towards the +Park. + +After the first conversation, already mentioned, with the lady at +his side, he supposed he should have nothing further to do with her. +But in this he was mistaken. While he was busy looking out of the +car window, she plunged her hand into her pocket in search of her +purse, which she was unable to find. Instantly she jumped to the +conclusion that it had been stolen, and her suspicions fastened upon +Frank, with whom she was already provoked for "crowding her," as she +termed it. + +"Conductor!" she exclaimed in a sharp voice. + +"What's wanted, ma'am?" returned that functionary. + +"I want you to come here right off." + +"What's the matter?" + +"My purse has been stolen. There was four dollars and eighty cents +in it. I know, because I counted it when I paid my fare." + +"Who stole it?" + +"That boy," she said pointing to Frank, who listened to the charge +in the most intense astonishment. "He crowded in here on purpose to +rob me, and I want you to search him right off." + +"That's a lie!" exclaimed Dick, indignantly. + +"Oh, you're in league with him, I dare say," said the woman +spitefully. "You're as bad as he is, I'll be bound." + +"You're a nice female, you be!" said Dick, ironically. + +"Don't you dare to call me a female, sir," said the lady, furiously. + +"Why, you aint a man in disguise, be you?" said Dick. + +"You are very much mistaken, madam," said Frank, quietly. "The +conductor may search me, if you desire it." + +A charge of theft, made in a crowded car, of course made quite a +sensation. Cautious passengers instinctively put their hands on +their pockets, to make sure that they, too, had not been robbed. +As for Frank, his face flushed, and he felt very indignant that he +should even be suspected of so mean a crime. He had been carefully +brought up, and been taught to regard stealing as low and wicked. + +Dick, on the contrary, thought it a capital joke that such a charge +should have been made against his companion. Though he had brought +himself up, and known plenty of boys and men, too, who would steal, +he had never done so himself. He thought it mean. But he could not +be expected to regard it as Frank did. He had been too familiar with +it in others to look upon it with horror. + +Meanwhile the passengers rather sided with the boys. Appearances go +a great ways, and Frank did not look like a thief. + +"I think you must be mistaken, madam," said a gentleman sitting +opposite. "The lad does not look as if he would steal." + +"You can't tell by looks," said the lady, sourly. "They're +deceitful; villains are generally well dressed." + +"Be they?" said Dick. "You'd ought to see me with my Washington coat +on. You'd think I was the biggest villain ever you saw." + +"I've no doubt you are," said the lady, scowling in the direction of +our hero. + +"Thank you, ma'am," said Dick. "'Tisn't often I get such fine +compliments." + +"None of your impudence," said the lady, wrathfully. "I believe +you're the worst of the two." + +Meanwhile the car had been stopped. + +"How long are we going to stop here?" demanded a passenger, +impatiently. "I'm in a hurry, if none of the rest of you are." + +"I want my pocket-book," said the lady, defiantly. + +"Well, ma'am, I haven't got it, and I don't see as it's doing you +any good detaining us all here." + +"Conductor, will you call a policeman to search that young scamp?" +continued the aggrieved lady. "You don't expect I'm going to lose my +money, and do nothing about it." + +"I'll turn my pockets inside out if you want me to," said Frank, +proudly. "There's no need of a policeman. The conductor, or any one +else, may search me." + +"Well, youngster," said the conductor, "if the lady agrees, I'll +search you." + +The lady signified her assent. + +Frank accordingly turned his pockets inside out, but nothing was +revealed except his own porte-monnaie and a penknife. + +"Well, ma'am, are you satisfied?" asked the conductor. + +"No, I aint," said she, decidedly. + +"You don't think he's got it still?" + +"No, but he's passed it over to his confederate, that boy there +that's so full of impudence." + +"That's me," said Dick, comically. + +"He confesses it," said the lady; "I want him searched." + +"All right," said Dick, "I'm ready for the operation, only, as I've +got valooable property about me, be careful not to drop any of my +Erie Bonds." + +The conductor's hand forthwith dove into Dick's pocket, and drew out +a rusty jack-knife, a battered cent, about fifty cents in change, +and the capacious pocket-book which he had received from the +swindler who was anxious to get back to his sick family in Boston. + +"Is that yours, ma'am?" asked the conductor, holding up the wallet +which excited some amazement, by its size, among the other +passengers. + +"It seems to me you carry a large pocket-book for a young man of +your age," said the conductor. + +"That's what I carry my cash and valooable papers in," said Dick. + +"I suppose that isn't yours, ma'am," said the conductor, turning to +the lady. + +"No," said she, scornfully. "I wouldn't carry round such a great +wallet as that. Most likely he's stolen it from somebody else." + +"What a prime detective you'd be!" said Dick. "P'rhaps you know who +I took it from." + +"I don't know but my money's in it," said the lady, sharply. +"Conductor, will you open that wallet, and see what there is in it?" + +"Don't disturb the valooable papers," said Dick, in a tone of +pretended anxiety. + +The contents of the wallet excited some amusement among the +passengers. + +"There don't seem to be much money here," said the conductor, taking +out a roll of tissue paper cut out in the shape of bills, and rolled +up. + +"No," said Dick. "Didn't I tell you them were papers of no valoo to +anybody but the owner? If the lady'd like to borrow, I won't charge +no interest." + +"Where is my money, then?" said the lady, in some discomfiture. "I +shouldn't wonder if one of the young scamps had thrown it out of the +window." + +"You'd better search your pocket once more," said the gentleman +opposite. "I don't believe either of the boys is in fault. They +don't look to me as if they would steal." + +"Thank you, sir," said Frank. + +The lady followed out the suggestion, and, plunging her hand once +more into her pocket, drew out a small porte-monnaie. She hardly +knew whether to be glad or sorry at this discovery. It placed her +in rather an awkward position after the fuss she had made, and the +detention to which she had subjected the passengers, now, as it +proved, for nothing. + +"Is that the pocket-book you thought stolen?" asked the conductor. + +"Yes," said she, rather confusedly. + +"Then you've been keeping me waiting all this time for nothing," he +said, sharply. "I wish you'd take care to be sure next time before +you make such a disturbance for nothing. I've lost five minutes, and +shall not be on time." + +"I can't help it," was the cross reply; "I didn't know it was in my +pocket." + +"It seems to me you owe an apology to the boys you accused of a +theft which they have not committed," said the gentleman opposite. + +"I shan't apologize to anybody," said the lady, whose temper was not +of the best; "least of all to such whipper-snappers as they are." + +"Thank you, ma'am," said Dick, comically; "your handsome apology is +accepted. It aint of no consequence, only I didn't like to expose +the contents of my valooable pocket-book, for fear it might excite +the envy of some of my poor neighbors." + +"You're a character," said the gentleman who had already spoken, +with a smile. + +"A bad character!" muttered the lady. + +But it was quite evident that the sympathies of those present were +against the lady, and on the side of the boys who had been falsely +accused, while Dick's drollery had created considerable amusement. + +The cars had now reached Fifty-ninth Street, the southern boundary +of the Park, and here our hero and his companion got off. + +"You'd better look out for pickpockets, my lad," said the conductor, +pleasantly. "That big wallet of yours might prove a great +temptation." + +"That's so," said Dick. "That's the misfortin' of being rich. Astor +and me don't sleep much for fear of burglars breakin' in and robbin' +us of our valooable treasures. Sometimes I think I'll give all my +money to an Orphan Asylum, and take it out in board. I guess I'd +make money by the operation." + +While Dick was speaking, the car rolled away, and the boys turned +up Fifty-ninth Street, for two long blocks yet separated them from +the Park. + + + +CHAPTER X + +INTRODUCES A VICTIM OF MISPLACED CONFIDENCE + + +"What a queer chap you are, Dick!" said Frank, laughing. "You always +seem to be in good spirits." + +"No, I aint always. Sometimes I have the blues." + +"When?" + +"Well, once last winter it was awful cold, and there was big holes +in my shoes, and my gloves and all my warm clothes was at the +tailor's. I felt as if life was sort of tough, and I'd like it if +some rich man would adopt me, and give me plenty to eat and drink +and wear, without my havin' to look so sharp after it. Then agin' +when I've seen boys with good homes, and fathers, and mothers, I've +thought I'd like to have somebody to care for me." + +Dick's tone changed as he said this, from his usual levity, and +there was a touch of sadness in it. Frank, blessed with a good home +and indulgent parents, could not help pitying the friendless boy who +had found life such up-hill work. + +"Don't say you have no one to care for you, Dick," he said, lightly +laying his hand on Dick's shoulder. "I will care for you." + +"Will you?" + +"If you will let me." + +"I wish you would," said Dick, earnestly. "I'd like to feel that I +have one friend who cares for me." + +Central Park was now before them, but it was far from presenting +the appearance which it now exhibits. It had not been long since +work had been commenced upon it, and it was still very rough and +unfinished. A rough tract of land, two miles and a half from north +to south, and a half a mile broad, very rocky in parts, was the +material from which the Park Commissioners have made the present +beautiful enclosure. There were no houses of good appearance near +it, buildings being limited mainly to rude temporary huts used by +the workmen who were employed in improving it. The time will +undoubtedly come when the Park will be surrounded by elegant +residences, and compare favorably in this respect with the most +attractive parts of any city in the world. But at the time when +Frank and Dick visited it, not much could be said in favor either +of the Park or its neighborhood. + +"If this is Central Park," said Frank, who naturally felt +disappointed, "I don't think much of it. My father's got a large +pasture that is much nicer." + +"It'll look better some time," said Dick. "There aint much to see +now but rocks. We will take a walk over it if you want to." + +"No," said Frank, "I've seen as much of it as I want to. Besides, I +feel tired." + +"Then we'll go back. We can take the Sixth Avenue cars. They will +bring us out at Vesey Street just beside the Astor House." + +"All right," said Frank. "That will be the best course. I hope," he +added, laughing, "our agreeable lady friend won't be there. I don't +care about being accused of _stealing_ again." + +"She was a tough one," said Dick. "Wouldn't she make a nice wife for +a man that likes to live in hot water, and didn't mind bein' scalded +two or three times a day?" + +"Yes, I think she'd just suit him. Is that the right car, Dick?" + +"Yes, jump in, and I'll follow." + +The Sixth Avenue is lined with stores, many of them of very good +appearance, and would make a very respectable principal street for a +good-sized city. But it is only one of several long business streets +which run up the island, and illustrate the extent and importance of +the city to which they belong. + +No incidents worth mentioning took place during their ride down +town. In about three-quarters of an hour the boys got out of the car +beside the Astor House. + +"Are you goin' in now, Frank?" asked Dick. + +"That depends upon whether you have anything else to show me." + +"Wouldn't you like to go to Wall Street?" + +"That's the street where there are so many bankers and brokers,--isn't +it?" + +"Yes, I s'pose you aint afraid of bulls and bears,--are you?" + +"Bulls and bears?" repeated Frank, puzzled. + +"Yes." + +"What are they?" + +"The bulls is what tries to make the stocks go up, and the bears is +what try to growl 'em down." + +"Oh, I see. Yes, I'd like to go." + +Accordingly they walked down on the west side of Broadway as far as +Trinity Church, and then, crossing, entered a street not very wide +or very long, but of very great importance. The reader would be +astonished if he could know the amount of money involved in the +transactions which take place in a single day in this street. It +would be found that although Broadway is much greater in length, and +lined with stores, it stands second to Wall Street in this respect. + +"What is that large marble building?" asked Frank, pointing to a +massive structure on the corner of Wall and Nassau Streets. It was +in the form of a parallelogram, two hundred feet long by ninety +wide, and about eighty feet in height, the ascent to the entrance +being by eighteen granite steps. + +"That's the Custom House," said Dick. + +"It looks like pictures I've seen of the Parthenon at Athens," said +Frank, meditatively. + +"Where's Athens?" asked Dick. "It aint in York State,--is it?" + +"Not the Athens I mean, at any rate. It is in Greece, and was a +famous city two thousand years ago." + +"That's longer than I can remember," said Dick. "I can't remember +distinctly more'n about a thousand years." + +"What a chap you are, Dick! Do you know if we can go in?" + +The boys ascertained, after a little inquiry, that they would be +allowed to do so. They accordingly entered the Custom House and made +their way up to the roof, from which they had a fine view of the +harbor, the wharves crowded with shipping, and the neighboring +shores of Long Island and New Jersey. Towards the north they looked +down for many miles upon continuous lines of streets, and thousands +of roofs, with here and there a church-spire rising above its +neighbors. Dick had never before been up there, and he, as well as +Frank, was interested in the grand view spread before them. + +At length they descended, and were going down the granite steps on +the outside of the building, when they were addressed by a young +man, whose appearance is worth describing. + +He was tall, and rather loosely put together, with small eyes and +rather a prominent nose. His clothing had evidently not been +furnished by a city tailor. He wore a blue coat with brass buttons, +and pantaloons of rather scanty dimensions, which were several +inches too short to cover his lower limbs. He held in his hand a +piece of paper, and his countenance wore a look of mingled +bewilderment and anxiety. + +"Be they a-payin' out money inside there?" he asked, indicating the +interior by a motion of his hand. + +"I guess so," said Dick. "Are you a-goin' in for some?" + +"Wal, yes. I've got an order here for sixty dollars,--made a kind of +speculation this morning." + +"How was it?" asked Frank. + +"Wal, you see I brought down some money to put in the bank, fifty +dollars it was, and I hadn't justly made up my mind what bank to put +it into, when a chap came up in a terrible hurry, and said it was +very unfortunate, but the bank wasn't open, and he must have some +money right off. He was obliged to go out of the city by the next +train. I asked him how much he wanted. He said fifty dollars. I told +him I'd got that, and he offered me a check on the bank for sixty, +and I let him have it. I thought that was a pretty easy way to earn +ten dollars, so I counted out the money and he went off. He told +me I'd hear a bell ring when they began to pay out money. But I've +waited most two hours, and I haint heard it yet. I'd ought to be +goin', for I told dad I'd be home to-night. Do you think I can get +the money now?" + +"Will you show me the check?" asked Frank, who had listened +attentively to the countryman's story, and suspected that he had +been made the victim of a swindler. It was made out upon the +"Washington Bank," in the sum of sixty dollars, and was signed +"Ephraim Smith." + +"Washington Bank!" repeated Frank. "Dick, is there such a bank in +the city?" + +"Not as I knows on," said Dick. "Leastways I don't own any shares +in it." + +"Aint this the Washington Bank?" asked the countryman, pointing to +the building on the steps of which the three were now standing. + +"No, it's the Custom House." + +"And won't they give me any money for this?" asked the young man, +the perspiration standing on his brow. + +"I am afraid the man who gave it to you was a swindler," said +Frank, gently. + +"And won't I ever see my fifty dollars again?" asked the youth in +agony. + +"I am afraid not." + +"What'll dad say?" ejaculated the miserable youth. "It makes me feel +sick to think of it. I wish I had the feller here. I'd shake him out +of his boots." + +"What did he look like? I'll call a policeman and you shall describe +him. Perhaps in that way you can get track of your money." + +Dick called a policeman, who listened to the description, and +recognized the operator as an experienced swindler. He assured the +countryman that there was very little chance of his ever seeing his +money again. The boys left the miserable youth loudly bewailing his +bad luck, and proceeded on their way down the street. + +"He's a baby," said Dick, contemptuously. "He'd ought to know how to +take care of himself and his money. A feller has to look sharp in +this city, or he'll lose his eye-teeth before he knows it." + +"I suppose you never got swindled out of fifty dollars, Dick?" + +"No, I don't carry no such small bills. I wish I did," he added. + +"So do I, Dick. What's that building there at the end of the street?" + +"That's the Wall-Street Ferry to Brooklyn." + +"How long does it take to go across?" + +"Not more'n five minutes." + +"Suppose we just ride over and back." + +"All right!" said Dick. "It's rather expensive; but if you don't +mind, I don't." + +"Why, how much does it cost?" + +"Two cents apiece." + +"I guess I can stand that. Let us go." + +They passed the gate, paying the fare to a man who stood at the +entrance, and were soon on the ferry-boat, bound for Brooklyn. + +They had scarcely entered the boat, when Dick, grasping Frank +by the arm, pointed to a man just outside of the gentlemen's cabin. + +"Do you see that man, Frank?" he inquired. + +"Yes, what of him?" + +"He's the man that cheated the country chap out of his fifty dollars." + + + +CHAPTER XI + +DICK AS A DETECTIVE + + +Dick's ready identification of the rogue who had cheated the +countryman, surprised Frank. + +"What makes you think it is he?" he asked. + +"Because I've seen him before, and I know he's up to them kind of +tricks. When I heard how he looked, I was sure I knowed him." + +"Our recognizing him won't be of much use," said Frank. "It won't +give back the countryman his money." + +"I don't know," said Dick, thoughtfully. "May be I can get it." + +"How?" asked Frank, incredulously. + +"Wait a minute, and you'll see." + +Dick left his companion, and went up to the man whom he suspected. + +"Ephraim Smith," said Dick, in a low voice. + +The man turned suddenly, and looked at Dick uneasily. + +"What did you say?" he asked. + +"I believe your name is Ephraim Smith," continued Dick. + +"You're mistaken," said the man, and was about to move off. + +"Stop a minute," said Dick. "Don't you keep your money in the +Washington Bank?" + +"I don't know any such bank. I'm in a hurry, young man, and I can't +stop to answer any foolish questions." + +The boat had by this time reached the Brooklyn pier, and Mr. Ephraim +Smith seemed in a hurry to land. + +"Look here," said Dick, significantly; "you'd better not go on shore +unless you want to jump into the arms of a policeman." + +"What do you mean?" asked the man, startled. + +"That little affair of yours is known to the police," said Dick; +"about how you got fifty dollars out of a greenhorn on a false +check, and it mayn't be safe for you to go ashore." + +"I don't know what you're talking about," said the swindler with +affected boldness, though Dick could see that he was ill at ease. + +"Yes you do," said Dick. "There isn't but one thing to do. Just give +me back that money, and I'll see that you're not touched. If you +don't, I'll give you up to the first p'liceman we meet." + +Dick looked so determined, and spoke so confidently, that the other, +overcome by his fears, no longer hesitated, but passed a roll of +bills to Dick and hastily left the boat. + +All this Frank witnessed with great amazement, not understanding +what influence Dick could have obtained over the swindler sufficient +to compel restitution. + +"How did you do it?" he asked eagerly. + +"I told him I'd exert my influence with the president to have him +tried by _habeas corpus_," said Dick. + +"And of course that frightened him. But tell me, without joking, how +you managed." + +Dick gave a truthful account of what occurred, and then said, "Now +we'll go back and carry the money." + +"Suppose we don't find the poor countryman?" + +"Then the p'lice will take care of it." + +They remained on board the boat, and in five minutes were again in +New York. Going up Wall Street, they met the countryman a little +distance from the Custom House. His face was marked with the traces +of deep anguish; but in his case even grief could not subdue the +cravings of appetite. He had purchased some cakes of one of the old +women who spread out for the benefit of passers-by an array of +apples and seed-cakes, and was munching them with melancholy +satisfaction. + +"Hilloa!" said Dick. "Have you found your money?" + +"No," ejaculated the young man, with a convulsive gasp. "I shan't +ever see it again. The mean skunk's cheated me out of it. Consarn +his picter! It took me most six months to save it up. I was workin' +for Deacon Pinkham in our place. Oh, I wish I'd never come to New +York! The deacon, he told me he'd keep it for me; but I wanted to +put it in the bank, and now it's all gone, boo hoo!" + +And the miserable youth, having despatched his cakes, was so +overcome by the thought of his loss that he burst into tears. + +"I say," said Dick, "dry up, and see what I've got here." + +The youth no sooner saw the roll of bills, and comprehended that it +was indeed his lost treasure, than from the depths of anguish he was +exalted to the most ecstatic joy. He seized Dick's hand, and shook +it with so much energy that our hero began to feel rather alarmed +for its safety. + +"'Pears to me you take my arm for a pump-handle," said he. "Couldn't +you show your gratitood some other way? It's just possible I may +want to use my arm ag'in some time." + +The young man desisted, but invited Dick most cordially to come up +and stop a week with him at his country home, assuring him that he +wouldn't charge him anything for board. + +"All right!" said Dick. "If you don't mind I'll bring my wife along, +too. She's delicate, and the country air might do her good." + +Jonathan stared at him in amazement, uncertain whether to credit the +fact of his marriage. Dick walked on with Frank, leaving him in an +apparent state of stupefaction, and it is possible that he has not +yet settled the affair to his satisfaction. + +"Now," said Frank, "I think I'll go back to the Astor House. Uncle +has probably got through his business and returned." + +"All right," said Dick. + +The two boys walked up to Broadway, just where the tall steeple of +Trinity faces the street of bankers and brokers, and walked +leisurely to the hotel. When they arrived at the Astor House, Dick +said, "Good-by, Frank." + +"Not yet," said Frank; "I want you to come in with me." + +Dick followed his young patron up the steps. Frank went to the +reading-room, where, as he had thought probable, he found his uncle +already arrived, and reading a copy of "The Evening Post," which he +had just purchased outside. + +"Well, boys," he said, looking up, "have you had a pleasant jaunt?" + +"Yes, sir," said Frank. "Dick's a capital guide." + +"So this is Dick," said Mr. Whitney, surveying him with a smile. +"Upon my word, I should hardly have known him. I must congratulate +him on his improved appearance." + +"Frank's been very kind to me," said Dick, who, rough street-boy as +he was, had a heart easily touched by kindness, of which he had +never experienced much. "He's a tip-top fellow." + +"I believe he is a good boy," said Mr. Whitney. "I hope, my lad, you +will prosper and rise in the world. You know in this free country +poverty in early life is no bar to a man's advancement. I haven't +risen very high myself," he added, with a smile, "but have met with +moderate success in life; yet there was a time when I was as poor as +you." + +"Were you, sir," asked Dick, eagerly. + +"Yes, my boy, I have known the time I have been obliged to go +without my dinner because I didn't have enough money to pay for it." + +"How did you get up in the world," asked Dick, anxiously. + +"I entered a printing-office as an apprentice, and worked for some +years. Then my eyes gave out and I was obliged to give that up. Not +knowing what else to do, I went into the country, and worked on a +farm. After a while I was lucky enough to invent a machine, which +has brought me in a great deal of money. But there was one thing I +got while I was in the printing-office which I value more than +money." + +"What was that, sir?" + +"A taste for reading and study. During my leisure hours I improved +myself by study, and acquired a large part of the knowledge which I +now possess. Indeed, it was one of my books that first put me on the +track of the invention, which I afterwards made. So you see, my lad, +that my studious habits paid me in money, as well as in another +way." + +"I'm awful ignorant," said Dick, soberly. + +"But you are young, and, I judge, a smart boy. If you try to learn, +you can, and if you ever expect to do anything in the world, you +must know something of books." + +"I will," said Dick, resolutely. "I aint always goin' to black boots +for a livin'." + +"All labor is respectable, my lad, and you have no cause to be +ashamed of any honest business; yet when you can get something to do +that promises better for your future prospects, I advise you to do +so. Till then earn your living in the way you are accustomed to, +avoid extravagance, and save up a little money if you can." + +"Thank you for your advice," said our hero. "There aint many that +takes an interest in Ragged Dick." + +"So that's your name," said Mr. Whitney. "If I judge you rightly, +it won't be long before you change it. Save your money, my lad, +buy books, and determine to be somebody, and you may yet fill an +honorable position." + +"I'll try," said Dick. "Good-night, sir." + +"Wait a minute, Dick," said Frank. "Your blacking-box and old +clothes are upstairs. You may want them." + +"In course," said Dick. "I couldn't get along without my best +clothes, and my stock in trade." + +"You may go up to the room with him, Frank," said Mr. Whitney. "The +clerk will give you the key. I want to see you, Dick, before you +go." + +"Yes, sir," said Dick. + +"Where are you going to sleep to-night, Dick?" asked Frank, as they +went upstairs together. + +"P'r'aps at the Fifth Avenue Hotel--on the outside," said Dick. + +"Haven't you any place to sleep, then?" + +"I slept in a box, last night." + +"In a box?" + +"Yes, on Spruce Street." + +"Poor fellow!" said Frank, compassionately. + +"Oh, 'twas a bully bed--full of straw! I slept like a top." + +"Don't you earn enough to pay for a room, Dick?" + +"Yes," said Dick; "only I spend my money foolish, goin' to the Old +Bowery, and Tony Pastor's, and sometimes gamblin' in Baxter Street." + +"You won't gamble any more,--will you, Dick?" said Frank, laying his +hand persuasively on his companion's shoulder. + +"No, I won't," said Dick. + +"You'll promise?" + +"Yes, and I'll keep it. You're a good feller. I wish you was goin' +to be in New York." + +"I am going to a boarding-school in Connecticut. The name of the +town is Barnton. Will you write to me, Dick?" + +"My writing would look like hens' tracks," said our hero. + +"Never mind. I want you to write. When you write you can tell me how +to direct, and I will send you a letter." + +"I wish you would," said Dick. "I wish I was more like you." + +"I hope you will make a much better boy, Dick. Now we'll go in to my +uncle. He wishes to see you before you go." + +They went into the reading-room. Dick had wrapped up his +blacking-brush in a newspaper with which Frank had supplied him, +feeling that a guest of the Astor House should hardly be seen +coming out of the hotel displaying such a professional sign. + +"Uncle, Dick's ready to go," said Frank. + +"Good-by, my lad," said Mr. Whitney. "I hope to hear good accounts +of you sometime. Don't forget what I have told you. Remember that +your future position depends mainly upon yourself, and that it will +be high or low as you choose to make it." + +He held out his hand, in which was a five-dollar bill. Dick shrunk +back. + +"I don't like to take it," he said. "I haven't earned it." + +"Perhaps not," said Mr. Whitney; "but I give it to you because I +remember my own friendless youth. I hope it may be of service to +you. Sometime when you are a prosperous man, you can repay it in the +form of aid to some poor boy, who is struggling upward as you are +now." + +"I will, sir," said Dick, manfully. + +He no longer refused the money, but took it gratefully, and, bidding +Frank and his uncle good-by, went out into the street. A feeling of +loneliness came over him as he left the presence of Frank, for whom +he had formed a strong attachment in the few hours he had known him. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +DICK HIRES A ROOM ON MOTT STREET + + +Going out into the fresh air Dick felt the pangs of hunger. He +accordingly went to a restaurant and got a substantial supper. +Perhaps it was the new clothes he wore, which made him feel a +little more aristocratic. At all events, instead of patronizing the +cheap restaurant where he usually procured his meals, he went into +the refectory attached to Lovejoy's Hotel, where the prices were +higher and the company more select. In his ordinary dress, Dick +would have been excluded, but now he had the appearance of a very +respectable, gentlemanly boy, whose presence would not discredit +any establishment. His orders were therefore received with attention +by the waiter and in due time a good supper was placed before him. + +"I wish I could come here every day," thought Dick. "It seems kind +o' nice and 'spectable, side of the other place. There's a gent at +that other table that I've shined boots for more'n once. He don't +know me in my new clothes. Guess he don't know his boot-black +patronizes the same establishment." + +His supper over, Dick went up to the desk, and, presenting his +check, tendered in payment his five-dollar bill, as if it were one +of a large number which he possessed. Receiving back his change he +went out into the street. + +Two questions now arose: How should he spend the evening, and where +should he pass the night? Yesterday, with such a sum of money in his +possession, he would have answered both questions readily. For the +evening, he would have passed it at the Old Bowery, and gone to +sleep in any out-of-the-way place that offered. But he had turned +over a new leaf, or resolved to do so. He meant to save his money +for some useful purpose,--to aid his advancement in the world. So he +could not afford the theatre. Besides, with his new clothes, he was +unwilling to pass the night out of doors. + +"I should spile 'em," he thought, "and that wouldn't pay." + +So he determined to hunt up a room which he could occupy regularly, +and consider as his own, where he could sleep nights, instead of +depending on boxes and old wagons for a chance shelter. This would +be the first step towards respectability, and Dick determined to +take it. + +He accordingly passed through the City Hall Park, and walked +leisurely up Centre Street. + +He decided that it would hardly be advisable for him to seek +lodgings in Fifth Avenue, although his present cash capital +consisted of nearly five dollars in money, besides the valuable +papers contained in his wallet. Besides, he had reason to doubt +whether any in his line of business lived on that aristocratic +street. He took his way to Mott Street, which is considerably less +pretentious, and halted in front of a shabby brick lodging-house +kept by a Mrs. Mooney, with whose son Tom, Dick was acquainted. + +Dick rang the bell, which sent back a shrill metallic response. + +The door was opened by a slatternly servant, who looked at him +inquiringly, and not without curiosity. It must be remembered that +Dick was well dressed, and that nothing in his appearance bespoke +his occupation. Being naturally a good-looking boy, he might readily +be mistaken for a gentleman's son. + +"Well, Queen Victoria," said Dick, "is your missus at home?" + +"My name's Bridget," said the girl. + +"Oh, indeed!" said Dick. "You looked so much like the queen's picter +what she gave me last Christmas in exchange for mine, that I +couldn't help calling you by her name." + +"Oh, go along wid ye!" said Bridget. "It's makin' fun ye are." + +"If you don't believe me," said Dick, gravely, "all you've got to do +is to ask my partic'lar friend, the Duke of Newcastle." + +"Bridget!" called a shrill voice from the basement. + +"The missus is calling me," said Bridget, hurriedly. "I'll tell her +ye want her." + +"All right!" said Dick. + +The servant descended into the lower regions, and in a short time a +stout, red-faced woman appeared on the scene. + +"Well, sir, what's your wish?" she asked. + +"Have you got a room to let?" asked Dick. + +"Is it for yourself you ask?" questioned the woman, in some surprise. + +Dick answered in the affirmative. + +"I haven't got any very good rooms vacant. There's a small room in +the third story." + +"I'd like to see it," said Dick. + +"I don't know as it would be good enough for you," said the woman, +with a glance at Dick's clothes. + +"I aint very partic'lar about accommodations," said our hero. "I +guess I'll look at it." + +Dick followed the landlady up two narrow stair-cases, uncarpeted +and dirty, to the third landing, where he was ushered into a room +about ten feet square. It could not be considered a very desirable +apartment. It had once been covered with an oilcloth carpet, but +this was now very ragged, and looked worse than none. There was a +single bed in the corner, covered with an indiscriminate heap of +bed-clothing, rumpled and not over-clean. There was a bureau, with +the veneering scratched and in some parts stripped off, and a small +glass, eight inches by ten, cracked across the middle; also two +chairs in rather a disjointed condition. Judging from Dick's +appearance, Mrs. Mooney thought he would turn from it in disdain. + +But it must be remembered that Dick's past experience had not been +of a character to make him fastidious. In comparison with a box, or +an empty wagon, even this little room seemed comfortable. He decided +to hire it if the rent proved reasonable. + +"Well, what's the tax?" asked Dick. + +"I ought to have a dollar a week," said Mrs. Mooney, hesitatingly. + +"Say seventy-five cents, and I'll take it," said Dick. + +"Every week in advance?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, as times is hard, and I can't afford to keep it empty, you +may have it. When will you come?" + +"To-night," said Dick. + +"It aint lookin' very neat. I don't know as I can fix it up +to-night." + +"Well, I'll sleep here to-night, and you can fix it up to-morrow." + +"I hope you'll excuse the looks. I'm a lone woman, and my help is so +shiftless, I have to look after everything myself; so I can't keep +things as straight as I want to." + +"All right!" said Dick. + +"Can you pay me the first week in advance?" asked the landlady, +cautiously. + +Dick responded by drawing seventy-five cents from his pocket, and +placing it in her hand. + +"What's your business, sir, if I may inquire?" said Mrs. Mooney. + +"Oh, I'm professional!" said Dick. + +"Indeed!" said the landlady, who did not feel much enlightened by +this answer. + +"How's Tom?" asked Dick. + +"Do you know my Tom?" said Mrs. Mooney in surprise. "He's gone to +sea,--to Californy. He went last week." + +"Did he?" said Dick. "Yes, I knew him." + +Mrs. Mooney looked upon her new lodger with increased favor, on +finding that he was acquainted with her son, who, by the way, was +one of the worst young scamps in Mott Street, which is saying +considerable. + +"I'll bring over my baggage from the Astor House this evening," said +Dick in a tone of importance. + +"From the Astor House!" repeated Mrs. Mooney, in fresh amazement. + +"Yes, I've been stoppin' there a short time with some friends," said +Dick. + +Mrs. Mooney might be excused for a little amazement at finding that +a guest from the Astor House was about to become one of her +lodgers--such transfers not being common. + +"Did you say you was purfessional?" she asked. + +"Yes, ma'am," said Dick, politely. + +"You aint a--a--" Mrs. Mooney paused, uncertain what conjecture to +hazard. + +"Oh, no, nothing of the sort," said Dick, promptly. "How could you +think so, Mrs. Mooney?" + +"No offence, sir," said the landlady, more perplexed than ever. + +"Certainly not," said our hero. "But you must excuse me now, Mrs. +Mooney, as I have business of great importance to attend to." + +"You'll come round this evening?" + +Dick answered in the affirmative, and turned away. + +"I wonder what he is!" thought the landlady, following him with her +eyes as he crossed the street. "He's got good clothes on, but he +don't seem very particular about his room. Well; I've got all my +rooms full now. That's one comfort." + +Dick felt more comfortable now that he had taken the decisive step +of hiring a lodging, and paying a week's rent in advance. For seven +nights he was sure of a shelter and a bed to sleep in. The thought +was a pleasant one to our young vagrant, who hitherto had seldom +known when he rose in the morning where he should find a +resting-place at night. + +"I must bring my traps round," said Dick to himself. "I guess I'll +go to bed early to-night. It'll feel kinder good to sleep in a +reg'lar bed. Boxes is rather hard to the back, and aint comfortable +in case of rain. I wonder what Johnny Nolan would say if he knew I'd +got a room of my own." + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +MICKY MAGUIRE + + +About nine o'clock Dick sought his new lodgings. In his hands he +carried his professional wardrobe, namely, the clothes which he +had worn at the commencement of the day, and the implements of his +business. These he stowed away in the bureau drawers, and by the +light of a flickering candle took off his clothes and went to +bed. Dick had a good digestion and a reasonably good conscience; +consequently he was a good sleeper. Perhaps, too, the soft feather +bed conduced to slumber. At any rate his eyes were soon closed, +and he did not awake until half-past six the next morning. + +He lifted himself on his elbow, and stared around him in transient +bewilderment. + +"Blest if I hadn't forgot where I was," he said to himself. "So this +is my room, is it? Well, it seems kind of 'spectable to have a room +and a bed to sleep in. I'd orter be able to afford seventy-five +cents a week. I've throwed away more money than that in one evenin'. +There aint no reason why I shouldn't live 'spectable. I wish I +knowed as much as Frank. He's a tip-top feller. Nobody ever cared +enough for me before to give me good advice. It was kicks, and +cuffs, and swearin' at me all the time. I'd like to show him I can +do something." + +While Dick was indulging in these reflections, he had risen from +bed, and, finding an accession to the furniture of his room, in the +shape of an ancient wash-stand bearing a cracked bowl and broken +pitcher, indulged himself in the rather unusual ceremony of a good +wash. On the whole, Dick preferred to be clean, but it was not +always easy to gratify his desire. Lodging in the street as he had +been accustomed to do, he had had no opportunity to perform his +toilet in the customary manner. Even now he found himself unable to +arrange his dishevelled locks, having neither comb nor brush. He +determined to purchase a comb, at least, as soon as possible, and a +brush too, if he could get one cheap. Meanwhile he combed his hair +with his fingers as well as he could, though the result was not +quite so satisfactory as it might have been. + +A question now came up for consideration. For the first time in +his life Dick possessed two suits of clothes. Should he put on the +clothes Frank had given him, or resume his old rags? + +Now, twenty-four hours before, at the time Dick was introduced to +the reader's notice, no one could have been less fastidious as to +his clothing than he. Indeed, he had rather a contempt for good +clothes, or at least he thought so. But now, as he surveyed the +ragged and dirty coat and the patched pants, Dick felt ashamed of +them. He was unwilling to appear in the streets with them. Yet, if +he went to work in his new suit, he was in danger of spoiling it, +and he might not have it in his power to purchase a new one. Economy +dictated a return to the old garments. Dick tried them on, and +surveyed himself in the cracked glass; but the reflection did not +please him. + +"They don't look 'spectable," he decided; and, forthwith taking them +off again, he put on the new suit of the day before. + +"I must try to earn a little more," he thought, "to pay for my room, +and to buy some new clo'es when these is wore out." + +He opened the door of his chamber, and went downstairs and into the +street, carrying his blacking-box with him. + +It was Dick's custom to commence his business before breakfast; +generally it must be owned, because he began the day penniless, and +must earn his meal before he ate it. To-day it was different. He had +four dollars left in his pocket-book; but this he had previously +determined not to touch. In fact he had formed the ambitious +design of starting an account at a savings' bank, in order to +have something to fall back upon in case of sickness or any other +emergency, or at any rate as a reserve fund to expend in clothing or +other necessary articles when he required them. Hitherto he had been +content to live on from day to day without a penny ahead; but the +new vision of respectability which now floated before Dick's mind, +owing to his recent acquaintance with Frank, was beginning to +exercise a powerful effect upon him. + +In Dick's profession as in others there are lucky days, when +everything seems to flow prosperously. As if to encourage him in +his new-born resolution, our hero obtained no less than six jobs +in the course of an hour and a half. This gave him sixty cents, +quite abundant to purchase his breakfast, and a comb besides. His +exertions made him hungry, and, entering a small eating-house he +ordered a cup of coffee and a beefsteak. To this he added a couple +of rolls. This was quite a luxurious breakfast for Dick, and more +expensive than he was accustomed to indulge himself with. To gratify +the curiosity of my young readers, I will put down the items with +their cost,-- + + Coffee, . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 cts. + Beefsteak, . . . . . . . . . . . 15 + A couple of rolls, . . . . . . . 5 + --25 cts. + +It will thus be seen that our hero had expended nearly one-half of +his morning's earnings. Some days he had been compelled to breakfast +on five cents, and then he was forced to content himself with +a couple of apples, or cakes. But a good breakfast is a good +preparation for a busy day, and Dick sallied forth from the +restaurant lively and alert, ready to do a good stroke of business. + +Dick's change of costume was liable to lead to one result of which +he had not thought. His brother boot-blacks might think he had +grown aristocratic, and was putting on airs,--that, in fact, he was +getting above his business, and desirous to outshine his associates. +Dick had not dreamed of this, because in fact, in spite of his +new-born ambition, he entertained no such feeling. There was +nothing of what boys call "big-feeling" about him. He was a borough +democrat, using the word not politically, but in its proper sense, +and was disposed to fraternize with all whom he styled "good +fellows," without regard to their position. It may seem a little +unnecessary to some of my readers to make this explanation; but they +must remember that pride and "big-feeling" are confined to no age or +class, but may be found in boys as well as men, and in boot-blacks +as well as those of a higher rank. + +The morning being a busy time with the boot-blacks, Dick's changed +appearance had not as yet attracted much attention. But when +business slackened a little, our hero was destined to be reminded +of it. + +Among the down-town boot-blacks was one hailing from the Five +Points,--a stout, red-haired, freckled-faced boy of fourteen, +bearing the name of Micky Maguire. This boy, by his boldness +and recklessness, as well as by his personal strength, which +was considerable, had acquired an ascendancy among his fellow +professionals, and had a gang of subservient followers, whom he led +on to acts of ruffianism, not unfrequently terminating in a month +or two at Blackwell's Island. Micky himself had served two terms +there; but the confinement appeared to have had very little effect +in amending his conduct, except, perhaps, in making him a little +more cautious about an encounter with the "copps," as the members +of the city police are, for some unknown reason, styled among the +Five-Point boys. + +Now Micky was proud of his strength, and of the position of leader +which it had secured him. Moreover he was democratic in his tastes, +and had a jealous hatred of those who wore good clothes and kept +their faces clean. He called it putting on airs, and resented the +implied superiority. If he had been fifteen years older, and had a +trifle more education, he would have interested himself in politics, +and been prominent at ward meetings, and a terror to respectable +voters on election day. As it was, he contented himself with being +the leader of a gang of young ruffians, over whom he wielded a +despotic power. + +Now it is only justice to Dick to say that, so far as wearing good +clothes was concerned, he had never hitherto offended the eyes of +Micky Maguire. Indeed, they generally looked as if they patronized +the same clothing establishment. On this particular morning it +chanced that Micky had not been very fortunate in a business way, +and, as a natural consequence, his temper, never very amiable, +was somewhat ruffled by the fact. He had had a very frugal +breakfast,--not because he felt abstemious, but owing to the low +state of his finances. He was walking along with one of his +particular friends, a boy nicknamed Limpy Jim, so called from a +slight peculiarity in his walk, when all at once he espied our +friend Dick in his new suit. + +"My eyes!" he exclaimed, in astonishment; "Jim, just look at Ragged +Dick. He's come into a fortun', and turned gentleman. See his new +clothes." + +"So he has," said Jim. "Where'd he get 'em, I wonder?" + +"Hooked 'em, p'raps. Let's go and stir him up a little. We don't +want no gentlemen on our beat. So he's puttin' on airs,--is he? +I'll give him a lesson." + +So saying the two boys walked up to our hero, who had not observed +them, his back being turned, and Micky Maguire gave him a smart slap +on the shoulder. + +Dick turned round quickly. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A BATTLE AND A VICTORY + + +"What's that for?" demanded Dick, turning round to see who had +struck him. + +"You're gettin' mighty fine!" said Micky Maguire, surveying Dick's +new clothes with a scornful air. + +There was something in his words and tone, which Dick, who was +disposed to stand up for his dignity, did not at all relish. + +"Well, what's the odds if I am?" he retorted. "Does it hurt you +any?" + +"See him put on airs, Jim," said Micky, turning to his companion. +"Where'd you get them clo'es?" + +"Never mind where I got 'em. Maybe the Prince of Wales gave 'em to +me." + +"Hear him, now, Jim," said Micky. "Most likely he stole 'em." + +"Stealin' aint in _my_ line." + +It might have been unconscious the emphasis which Dick placed on the +word "my." At any rate Micky chose to take offence. + +"Do you mean to say _I_ steal?" he demanded, doubling up his fist, +and advancing towards Dick in a threatening manner. + +"I don't say anything about it," answered Dick, by no means alarmed +at this hostile demonstration. "I know you've been to the Island +twice. P'r'aps 'twas to make a visit along of the Mayor and +Aldermen. Maybe you was a innocent victim of oppression. I aint a +goin' to say." + +Micky's freckled face grew red with wrath, for Dick had only stated +the truth. + +"Do you mean to insult me?" he demanded shaking the fist already +doubled up in Dick's face. "Maybe you want a lickin'?" + +"I aint partic'larly anxious to get one," said Dick, coolly. "They +don't agree with my constitution which is nat'rally delicate. I'd +rather have a good dinner than a lickin' any time." + +"You're afraid," sneered Micky. "Isn't he, Jim?" + +"In course he is." + +"P'r'aps I am," said Dick, composedly, "but it don't trouble +me much." + +"Do you want to fight?" demanded Micky, encouraged by Dick's +quietness, fancying he was afraid to encounter him. + +"No, I don't," said Dick. "I aint fond of fightin'. It's a very poor +amusement, and very bad for the complexion, 'specially for the eyes +and nose, which is apt to turn red, white, and blue." + +Micky misunderstood Dick, and judged from the tenor of his speech +that he would be an easy victim. As he knew, Dick very seldom was +concerned in any street fight,--not from cowardice, as he imagined, +but because he had too much good sense to do so. Being quarrelsome, +like all bullies, and supposing that he was more than a match for +our hero, being about two inches taller, he could no longer resist +an inclination to assault him, and tried to plant a blow in Dick's +face which would have hurt him considerably if he had not drawn back +just in time. + +Now, though Dick was far from quarrelsome, he was ready to defend +himself on all occasions, and it was too much to expect that he +would stand quiet and allow himself to be beaten. + +He dropped his blacking-box on the instant, and returned Micky's +blow with such good effect that the young bully staggered back, and +would have fallen, if he had not been propped up by his confederate, +Limpy Jim. + +"Go in, Micky!" shouted the latter, who was rather a coward on his +own account, but liked to see others fight. "Polish him off, that's +a good feller." + +Micky was now boiling over with rage and fury, and required no +urging. He was fully determined to make a terrible example of poor +Dick. He threw himself upon him, and strove to bear him to the +ground; but Dick, avoiding a close hug, in which he might possibly +have got the worst of it, by an adroit movement, tripped up his +antagonist, and stretched him on the side walk. + +"Hit him, Jim!" exclaimed Micky, furiously. + +Limpy Jim did not seem inclined to obey orders. There was a quiet +strength and coolness about Dick, which alarmed him. He preferred +that Micky should incur all the risks of battle, and accordingly set +himself to raising his fallen comrade. + +"Come, Micky," said Dick, quietly, "you'd better give it up. I +wouldn't have touched you if you hadn't hit me first. I don't want +to fight. It's low business." + +"You're afraid of hurtin' your clo'es," said Micky, with a sneer. + +"Maybe I am," said Dick. "I hope I haven't hurt yours." + +Micky's answer to this was another attack, as violent and impetuous +as the first. But his fury was in the way. He struck wildly, not +measuring his blows, and Dick had no difficulty in turning aside, so +that his antagonist's blow fell upon the empty air, and his momentum +was such that he nearly fell forward headlong. Dick might readily +have taken advantage of his unsteadiness, and knocked him down; but +he was not vindictive, and chose to act on the defensive, except +when he could not avoid it. + +Recovering himself, Micky saw that Dick was a more formidable +antagonist than he had supposed, and was meditating another assault, +better planned, which by its impetuosity might bear our hero to the +ground. But there was an unlooked-for interference. + +"Look out for the 'copp,'" said Jim, in a low voice. + +Micky turned round and saw a tall policeman heading towards him, and +thought it might be prudent to suspend hostilities. He accordingly +picked up his black-box, and, hitching up his pants, walked off, +attended by Limpy Jim. + +"What's that chap been doing?" asked the policeman of Dick. + +"He was amoosin' himself by pitchin' into me," replied Dick. + +"What for?" + +"He didn't like it 'cause I patronized a different tailor from him." + +"Well, it seems to me you _are_ dressed pretty smart for a +boot-black," said the policeman. + +"I wish I wasn't a boot-black," said Dick. + +"Never mind, my lad. It's an honest business," said the policeman, +who was a sensible man and a worthy citizen. "It's an honest +business. Stick to it till you get something better." + +"I mean to," said Dick. "It aint easy to get out of it, as the +prisoner remarked, when he was asked how he liked his residence." + +"I hope you don't speak from experience." + +"No," said Dick; "I don't mean to get into prison if I can +help it." + +"Do you see that gentleman over there?" asked the officer, pointing +to a well-dressed man who was walking on the other side of the +street. + +"Yes." + +"Well, he was once a newsboy." + +"And what is he now?" + +"He keeps a bookstore, and is quite prosperous." + +Dick looked at the gentleman with interest, wondering if he should +look as respectable when he was a grown man. + +It will be seen that Dick was getting ambitious. Hitherto he had +thought very little of the future, but was content to get along as +he could, dining as well as his means would allow, and spending the +evenings in the pit of the Old Bowery, eating peanuts between the +acts if he was prosperous, and if unlucky supping on dry bread or +an apple, and sleeping in an old box or a wagon. Now, for the first +time, he began to reflect that he could not black boots all his +life. In seven years he would be a man, and, since his meeting with +Frank, he felt that he would like to be a respectable man. He could +see and appreciate the difference between Frank and such a boy as +Micky Maguire, and it was not strange that he preferred the society +of the former. + +In the course of the next morning, in pursuance of his new +resolutions for the future, he called at a savings bank, and held +out four dollars in bills besides another dollar in change. There +was a high railing, and a number of clerks busily writing at desks +behind it. Dick, never having been in a bank before, did not know +where to go. He went, by mistake, to the desk where money was paid +out. + +"Where's your book?" asked the clerk. + +"I haven't got any." + +"Have you any money deposited here?" + +"No, sir, I want to leave some here." + +"Then go to the next desk." + +Dick followed directions, and presented himself before an elderly +man with gray hair, who looked at him over the rims of his +spectacles. + +"I want you to keep that for me," said Dick, awkwardly emptying his +money out on the desk. + +"How much is there?" + +"Five dollars." + +"Have you got an account here?" + +"No, sir." + +"Of course you can write?" + +The "of course" was said on account of Dick's neat dress. + +"Have I got to do any writing?" asked our hero, a little +embarrassed. + +"We want you to sign your name in this book," and the old gentleman +shoved round a large folio volume containing the names of +depositors. + +Dick surveyed the book with some awe. + +"I aint much on writin'," he said. + +"Very well; write as well as you can." + +The pen was put into Dick's hand, and, after dipping it in the +inkstand, he succeeded after a hard effort, accompanied by many +contortions of the face, in inscribing upon the book of the bank +the name + +DICK HUNTER. + + +"Dick!--that means Richard, I suppose," said the bank officer, who +had some difficulty in making out the signature. + +"No; Ragged Dick is what folks call me." + +"You don't look very ragged." + +"No, I've left my rags to home. They might get wore out if I used +'em too common." + +"Well, my lad, I'll make out a book in the name of Dick Hunter, +since you seem to prefer Dick to Richard. I hope you will save up +your money and deposit more with us." + +Our hero took his bank-book, and gazed on the entry "Five Dollars" +with a new sense of importance. He had been accustomed to joke +about Erie shares, but now, for the first time, he felt himself a +capitalist; on a small scale, to be sure, but still it was no small +thing for Dick to have five dollars which he could call his own. He +firmly determined that he would lay by every cent he could spare +from his earnings towards the fund he hoped to accumulate. + +But Dick was too sensible not to know that there was something more +than money needed to win a respectable position in the world. He +felt that he was very ignorant. Of reading and writing he only knew +the rudiments, and that, with a slight acquaintance with arithmetic, +was all he did know of books. Dick knew he must study hard, and +he dreaded it. He looked upon learning as attended with greater +difficulties than it really possesses. But Dick had good pluck. He +meant to learn, nevertheless, and resolved to buy a book with his +first spare earnings. + +When Dick went home at night he locked up his bank-book in one +of the drawers of the bureau. It was wonderful how much more +independent he felt whenever he reflected upon the contents of +that drawer, and with what an important air of joint ownership +he regarded the bank building in which his small savings were +deposited. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +DICK SECURES A TUTOR + + +The next morning Dick was unusually successful, having plenty to do, +and receiving for one job twenty-five cents,--the gentleman refusing +to take change. Then flashed upon Dick's mind the thought that he +had not yet returned the change due to the gentleman whose boots he +had blacked on the morning of his introduction to the reader. + +"What'll he think of me?" said Dick to himself. "I hope he won't +think I'm mean enough to keep the money." + +Now Dick was scrupulously honest, and though the temptation to be +otherwise had often been strong, he had always resisted it. He was +not willing on any account to keep money which did not belong to +him, and he immediately started for 125 Fulton Street (the address +which had been given him) where he found Mr. Greyson's name on the +door of an office on the first floor. + +The door being open, Dick walked in. + +"Is Mr. Greyson in?" he asked of a clerk who sat on a high stool +before a desk. + +"Not just now. He'll be in soon. Will you wait?" + +"Yes," said Dick. + +"Very well; take a seat then." + +Dick sat down and took up the morning "Tribune," but presently +came to a word of four syllables, which he pronounced to himself a +"sticker," and laid it down. But he had not long to wait, for five +minutes later Mr. Greyson entered. + +"Did you wish to speak to me, my lad?" said he to Dick, whom in his +new clothes he did not recognize. + +"Yes, sir," said Dick. "I owe you some money." + +"Indeed!" said Mr. Greyson, pleasantly; "that's an agreeable +surprise. I didn't know but you had come for some. So you are +a debtor of mine, and not a creditor?" + +"I b'lieve that's right," said Dick, drawing fifteen cents from his +pocket, and placing in Mr. Greyson's hand. + +"Fifteen cents!" repeated he, in some surprise. "How do you happen +to be indebted to me in that amount?" + +"You gave me a quarter for a-shinin' your boots, yesterday mornin', +and couldn't wait for the change. I meant to have brought it before, +but I forgot all about it till this mornin'." + +"It had quite slipped my mind also. But you don't look like the boy +I employed. If I remember rightly he wasn't as well dressed as you." + +"No," said Dick. "I was dressed for a party, then, but the clo'es +was too well ventilated to be comfortable in cold weather." + +"You're an honest boy," said Mr. Greyson. "Who taught you to be +honest?" + +"Nobody," said Dick. "But it's mean to cheat and steal. I've always +knowed that." + +"Then you've got ahead of some of our business men. Do you read +the Bible?" + +"No," said Dick. "I've heard it's a good book, but I don't know much +about it." + +"You ought to go to some Sunday School. Would you be willing?" + +"Yes," said Dick, promptly. "I want to grow up 'spectable. But I +don't know where to go." + +"Then I'll tell you. The church I attend is at the corner of Fifth +Avenue and Twenty-first Street." + +"I've seen it," said Dick. + +"I have a class in the Sunday School there. If you'll come next +Sunday, I'll take you into my class, and do what I can to help you." + +"Thank you," said Dick, "but p'r'aps you'll get tired of teaching +me. I'm awful ignorant." + +"No, my lad," said Mr. Greyson, kindly. "You evidently have some +good principles to start with, as you have shown by your scorn of +dishonesty. I shall hope good things of you in the future." + +"Well, Dick," said our hero, apostrophizing himself, as he left the +office; "you're gettin' up in the world. You've got money invested, +and are goin' to attend church, by partic'lar invitation, on Fifth +Avenue. I shouldn't wonder much if you should find cards, when you +get home, from the Mayor, requestin' the honor of your company to +dinner, along with other distinguished guests." + +Dick felt in very good spirits. He seemed to be emerging from the +world in which he had hitherto lived, into a new atmosphere of +respectability, and the change seemed very pleasant to him. + +At six o'clock Dick went into a restaurant on Chatham Street, and +got a comfortable supper. He had been so successful during the day +that, after paying for this, he still had ninety cents left. While +he was despatching his supper, another boy came in, smaller and +slighter than Dick, and sat down beside him. Dick recognized him +as a boy who three months before had entered the ranks of the +boot-blacks, but who, from a natural timidity, had not been able +to earn much. He was ill-fitted for the coarse companionship of +the street boys, and shrank from the rude jokes of his present +associates. Dick had never troubled him; for our hero had a certain +chivalrous feeling which would not allow him to bully or disturb a +younger and weaker boy than himself. + +"How are you, Fosdick?" said Dick, as the other seated himself. + +"Pretty well," said Fosdick. "I suppose you're all right." + +"Oh, yes, I'm right side up with care. I've been havin' a bully +supper. What are you goin' to have?" + +"Some bread and butter." + +"Why don't you get a cup o' coffee?" + +"Why," said Fosdick, reluctantly, "I haven't got money enough +to-night." + +"Never mind," said Dick; "I'm in luck to-day, I'll stand treat." + +"That's kind in you," said Fosdick, gratefully. + +"Oh, never mind that," said Dick. + +Accordingly he ordered a cup of coffee, and a plate of beefsteak, +and was gratified to see that his young companion partook of both +with evident relish. When the repast was over, the boys went out +into the street together, Dick pausing at the desk to settle for +both suppers. + +"Where are you going to sleep to-night, Fosdick?" asked Dick, as +they stood on the sidewalk. + +"I don't know," said Fosdick, a little sadly. "In some doorway, I +expect. But I'm afraid the police will find me out, and make me +move on." + +"I'll tell you what," said Dick, "you must go home with me. I guess +my bed will hold two." + +"Have you got a room?" asked the other, in surprise. + +"Yes," said Dick, rather proudly, and with a little excusable +exultation. "I've got a room over in Mott Street; there I can +receive my friends. That'll be better than sleepin' in a +door-way,--won't it?" + +"Yes, indeed it will," said Fosdick. "How lucky I was to come across +you! It comes hard to me living as I do. When my father was alive I +had every comfort." + +"That's more'n I ever had," said Dick. "But I'm goin' to try to live +comfortable now. Is your father dead?" + +"Yes," said Fosdick, sadly. "He was a printer; but he was drowned +one dark night from a Fulton ferry-boat, and, as I had no relations +in the city, and no money, I was obliged to go to work as quick as +I could. But I don't get on very well." + +"Didn't you have no brothers nor sisters?" asked Dick. + +"No," said Fosdick; "father and I used to live alone. He was always +so much company to me that I feel very lonesome without him. There's +a man out West somewhere that owes him two thousand dollars. He used +to live in the city, and father lent him all his money to help him +go into business; but he failed, or pretended to, and went off. If +father hadn't lost that money he would have left me well off; but no +money would have made up his loss to me." + +"What's the man's name that went off with your father's money?" + +"His name is Hiram Bates." + +"P'r'aps you'll get the money again, sometime." + +"There isn't much chance of it," said Fosdick. "I'd sell out my +chances of that for five dollars." + +"Maybe I'll buy you out sometime," said Dick. "Now, come round and +see what sort of a room I've got. I used to go to the theatre +evenings, when I had money; but now I'd rather go to bed early, and +have a good sleep." + +"I don't care much about theatres," said Fosdick. "Father didn't use +to let me go very often. He said it wasn't good for boys." + +"I like to go to the Old Bowery sometimes. They have tip-top plays +there. Can you read and write well?" he asked, as a sudden thought +came to him. + +"Yes," said Fosdick. "Father always kept me at school when he was +alive, and I stood pretty well in my classes. I was expecting to +enter at the Free Academy* next year." + +* Now the college of the city of New York. + + +"Then I'll tell you what," said Dick; "I'll make a bargain with you. +I can't read much more'n a pig; and my writin' looks like hens' +tracks. I don't want to grow up knowin' no more'n a four-year-old +boy. If you'll teach me readin' and writin' evenin's, you shall +sleep in my room every night. That'll be better'n door-steps or old +boxes, where I've slept many a time." + +"Are you in earnest?" said Fosdick, his face lighting up hopefully. + +"In course I am," said Dick. "It's fashionable for young gentlemen +to have private tootors to introduct 'em into the flower-beds of +literatoor and science, and why shouldn't I foller the fashion? You +shall be my perfessor; only you must promise not to be very hard if +my writin' looks like a rail-fence on a bender." + +"I'll try not to be too severe," said Fosdick, laughing. "I shall be +thankful for such a chance to get a place to sleep. Have you got +anything to read out of?" + +"No," said Dick. "My extensive and well-selected library was lost +overboard in a storm, when I was sailin' from the Sandwich Islands +to the desert of Sahara. But I'll buy a paper. That'll do me a +long time." + +Accordingly Dick stopped at a paper-stand, and bought a copy of +a weekly paper, filled with the usual variety of reading +matter,--stories, sketches, poems, etc. + +They soon arrived at Dick's lodging-house. Our hero, procuring a +lamp from the landlady, led the way into his apartment, which he +entered with the proud air of a proprietor. + +"Well, how do you like it, Fosdick?" he asked, complacently. + +The time was when Fosdick would have thought it untidy and not +particularly attractive. But he had served a severe apprenticeship +in the streets, and it was pleasant to feel himself under shelter, +and he was not disposed to be critical. + +"It looks very comfortable, Dick," he said. + +"The bed aint very large," said Dick; "but I guess we can +get along." + +"Oh, yes," said Fosdick, cheerfully. "I don't take up much room." + +"Then that's all right. There's two chairs, you see, one for you +and one for me. In case the mayor comes in to spend the evenin' +socially, he can sit on the bed." + +The boys seated themselves, and five minutes later, under the +guidance of his young tutor, Dick had commenced his studies. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE FIRST LESSON + + +Fortunately for Dick, his young tutor was well qualified to instruct +him. Henry Fosdick, though only twelve years old, knew as much as +many boys of fourteen. He had always been studious and ambitious +to excel. His father, being a printer, employed in an office where +books were printed, often brought home new books in sheets, which +Henry was always glad to read. Mr. Fosdick had been, besides, a +subscriber to the Mechanics' Apprentices' Library, which contains +many thousands of well-selected and instructive books. Thus Henry +had acquired an amount of general information, unusual in a boy of +his age. Perhaps he had devoted too much time to study, for he was +not naturally robust. All this, however, fitted him admirably for +the office to which Dick had appointed him,--that of his private +instructor. + +The two boys drew up their chairs to the rickety table, and spread +out the paper before them. + +"The exercises generally Commence with ringin' the bell," said Dick; +"but as I aint got none, we'll have to do without." + +"And the teacher is generally provided with a rod," said Fosdick. +"Isn't there a poker handy, that I can use in case my scholar +doesn't behave well?" + +"'Taint lawful to use fire-arms," said Dick. + +"Now, Dick," said Fosdick, "before we begin, I must find out how +much you already know. Can you read any?" + +"Not enough to hurt me," said Dick. "All I know about readin' you +could put in a nutshell, and there'd be room left for a small +family." + +"I suppose you know your letters?" + +"Yes," said Dick, "I know 'em all, but not intimately. I guess I can +call 'em all by name." + +"Where did you learn them? Did you ever go to school?" + +"Yes; I went two days." + +"Why did you stop?" + +"It didn't agree with my constitution." + +"You don't look very delicate," said Fosdick. + +"No," said Dick, "I aint troubled much that way; but I found lickins +didn't agree with me." + +"Did you get punished?" + +"Awful," said Dick. + +"What for?" + +"For indulgin' in a little harmless amoosement," said Dick. "You see +the boy that was sittin' next to me fell asleep, which I considered +improper in school-time; so I thought I'd help the teacher a little +by wakin' him up. So I took a pin and stuck into him; but I guess it +went a little too far, for he screeched awful. The teacher found out +what it was that made him holler, and whipped me with a ruler till I +was black and blue. I thought 'twas about time to take a vacation; +so that's the last time I went to school." + +"You didn't learn to read in that time, of course?" + +"No," said Dick; "but I was a newsboy a little while; so I learned a +little, just so's to find out what the news was. Sometimes I didn't +read straight and called the wrong news. One mornin' I asked another +boy what the paper said, and he told me the King of Africa was dead. +I thought it was all right till folks began to laugh." + +"Well, Dick, if you'll only study well, you won't be liable to make +such mistakes." + +"I hope so," said Dick. "My friend Horace Greeley told me the other +day that he'd get me to take his place now and then when he was off +makin' speeches if my edication hadn't been neglected." + +"I must find a good piece for you to begin on," said Fosdick, +looking over the paper. + +"Find an easy one," said Dick, "with words of one story." + +Fosdick at length found a piece which he thought would answer. He +discovered on trial that Dick had not exaggerated his deficiencies. +Words of two syllables he seldom pronounced right, and was much +surprised when he was told how "through" was sounded. + +"Seems to me it's throwin' away letters to use all them," he said. + +"How would you spell it?" asked his young teacher. + +"T-h-r-u," said Dick. + +"Well," said Fosdick, "there's a good many other words that are +spelt with more letters than they need to have. But it's the +fashion, and we must follow it." + +But if Dick was ignorant, he was quick, and had an excellent +capacity. Moreover he had perseverance, and was not easily +discouraged. He had made up his mind he must know more, and was +not disposed to complain of the difficulty of his task. Fosdick +had occasion to laugh more than once at his ludicrous mistakes; but +Dick laughed too, and on the whole both were quite interested in +the lesson. + +At the end of an hour and a half the boys stopped for the evening. + +"You're learning fast, Dick," said Fosdick. "At this rate you will +soon learn to read well." + +"Will I?" asked Dick with an expression of satisfaction. "I'm glad +of that. I don't want to be ignorant. I didn't use to care, but I do +now. I want to grow up 'spectable." + +"So do I, Dick. We will both help each other, and I am sure we can +accomplish something. But I am beginning to feel sleepy." + +"So am I," said Dick. "Them hard words make my head ache. I wonder +who made 'em all?" + +"That's more than I can tell. I suppose you've seen a dictionary." + +"That's another of 'em. No, I can't say I have, though I may have +seen him in the street without knowin' him." + +"A dictionary is a book containing all the words in the language." + +"How many are there?" + +"I don't rightly know; but I think there are about fifty thousand." + +"It's a pretty large family," said Dick. "Have I got to learn 'em +all?" + +"That will not be necessary. There are a large number which you +would never find occasion to use." + +"I'm glad of that," said Dick; "for I don't expect to live to be +more'n a hundred, and by that time I wouldn't be more'n half +through." + +By this time the flickering lamp gave a decided hint to the boys +that unless they made haste they would have to undress in the dark. +They accordingly drew off their clothes, and Dick jumped into bed. +But Fosdick, before doing so, knelt down by the side of the bed, and +said a short prayer. + +"What's that for?" asked Dick, curiously. + +"I was saying my prayers," said Fosdick, as he rose from his knees. +"Don't you ever do it?" + +"No," said Dick. "Nobody ever taught me." + +"Then I'll teach you. Shall I?" + +"I don't know," said Dick, dubiously. "What's the good?" + +Fosdick explained as well as he could, and perhaps his simple +explanation was better adapted to Dick's comprehension than one +from an older person would have been. Dick felt more free to ask +questions, and the example of his new friend, for whom he was +beginning to feel a warm attachment, had considerable effect upon +him. When, therefore, Fosdick asked again if he should teach him a +prayer, Dick consented, and his young bedfellow did so. Dick was not +naturally irreligious. If he had lived without a knowledge of God +and of religious things, it was scarcely to be wondered at in a lad +who, from an early age, had been thrown upon his own exertions for +the means of living, with no one to care for him or give him good +advice. But he was so far good that he could appreciate goodness in +others, and this it was that had drawn him to Frank in the first +place, and now to Henry Fosdick. He did not, therefore, attempt to +ridicule his companion, as some boys better brought up might have +done, but was willing to follow his example in what something told +him was right. Our young hero had taken an important step toward +securing that genuine respectability which he was ambitious to +attain. + +Weary with the day's work, and Dick perhaps still more fatigued by +the unusual mental effort he had made, the boys soon sank into a +deep and peaceful slumber, from which they did not awaken till six +o'clock the next morning. Before going out Dick sought Mrs. Mooney, +and spoke to her on the subject of taking Fosdick as a room-mate. +He found that she had no objection, provided he would allow her +twenty-five cents a week extra, in consideration of the extra +trouble which his companion might be expected to make. To this +Dick assented, and the arrangement was definitely concluded. + +This over, the two boys went out and took stations near each other. +Dick had more of a business turn than Henry, and less shrinking from +publicity, so that his earnings were greater. But he had undertaken +to pay the entire expenses of the room, and needed to earn more. +Sometimes, when two customers presented themselves at the same time, +he was able to direct one to his friend. So at the end of the week +both boys found themselves with surplus earnings. Dick had the +satisfaction of adding two dollars and a half to his deposits in +the Savings Bank, and Fosdick commenced an account by depositing +seventy-five cents. + +On Sunday morning Dick bethought himself of his promise to Mr. +Greyson to come to the church on Fifth Avenue. To tell the truth, +Dick recalled it with some regret. He had never been inside a church +since he could remember, and he was not much attracted by the +invitation he had received. But Henry, finding him wavering, urged +him to go, and offered to go with him. Dick gladly accepted the +offer, feeling that he required someone to lend him countenance +under such unusual circumstances. + +Dick dressed himself with scrupulous care, giving his shoes a +"shine" so brilliant that it did him great credit in a professional +point of view, and endeavored to clean his hands thoroughly; but, in +spite of all he could do, they were not so white as if his business +had been of a different character. + +Having fully completed his preparations, he descended into the +street, and, with Henry by his side, crossed over to Broadway. + +The boys pursued their way up Broadway, which on Sunday presents +a striking contrast in its quietness to the noise and confusion +of ordinary week-days, as far as Union Square, then turned down +Fourteenth Street, which brought them to Fifth Avenue. + +"Suppose we dine at Delmonico's," said Fosdick, looking towards that +famous restaurant. + +"I'd have to sell some of my Erie shares," said Dick. + +A short walk now brought them to the church of which mention has +already been made. They stood outside, a little abashed, watching +the fashionably attired people who were entering, and were feeling +a little undecided as to whether they had better enter also, when +Dick felt a light touch upon his shoulder. + +Turning round, he met the smiling glance of Mr. Greyson. + +"So, my young friend, you have kept your promise," he said. "And +whom have you brought with you?" + +"A friend of mine," said Dick. "His name is Henry Fosdick." + +"I am glad you have brought him. Now follow me, and I will give you +seats." + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +DICK'S FIRST APPEARANCE IN SOCIETY + + +It was the hour for morning service. The boys followed Mr. Greyson +into the handsome church, and were assigned seats in his own pew. + +There were two persons already seated in it,--a good-looking lady of +middle age, and a pretty little girl of nine. They were Mrs. Greyson +and her only daughter Ida. They looked pleasantly at the boys as +they entered, smiling a welcome to them. + +The morning service commenced. It must be acknowledged that Dick +felt rather awkward. It was an unusual place for him, and it need +not be wondered at that he felt like a cat in a strange garret. He +would not have known when to rise if he had not taken notice of what +the rest of the audience did, and followed their example. He was +sitting next to Ida, and as it was the first time he had ever been +near so well-dressed a young lady, he naturally felt bashful. When +the hymns were announced, Ida found the place, and offered a +hymn-book to our hero. Dick took it awkwardly, but his studies had +not yet been pursued far enough for him to read the words readily. +However, he resolved to keep up appearances, and kept his eyes +fixed steadily on the hymn-book. + +At length the service was over. The people began to file slowly out +of church, and among them, of course, Mr. Greyson's family and the +two boys. It seemed very strange to Dick to find himself in such +different companionship from what he had been accustomed, and he +could not help thinking, "Wonder what Johnny Nolan 'ould say if he +could see me now!" + +But Johnny's business engagements did not often summon him to Fifth +Avenue, and Dick was not likely to be seen by any of his friends in +the lower part of the city. + +"We have our Sunday school in the afternoon," said Mr. Greyson. "I +suppose you live at some distance from here?" + +"In Mott Street, sir," answered Dick. + +"That is too far to go and return. Suppose you and your friend +come and dine with us, and then we can come here together in the +afternoon." + +Dick was as much astonished at this invitation as if he had really +been invited by the Mayor to dine with him and the Board of +Aldermen. Mr. Greyson was evidently a rich man, and yet he had +actually invited two boot-blacks to dine with him. + +"I guess we'd better go home, sir," said Dick, hesitating. + +"I don't think you can have any very pressing engagements to +interfere with your accepting my invitation," said Mr. Greyson, +good-humoredly, for he understood the reason of Dick's hesitation. +"So I take it for granted that you both accept." + +Before Dick fairly knew what he intended to do, he was walking down +Fifth Avenue with his new friends. + +Now, our young hero was not naturally bashful; but he certainly felt +so now, especially as Miss Ida Greyson chose to walk by his side, +leaving Henry Fosdick to walk with her father and mother. + +"What is your name?" asked Ida, pleasantly. + +Our hero was about to answer "Ragged Dick," when it occurred to him +that in the present company he had better forget his old nickname. + +"Dick Hunter," he answered. + +"Dick!" repeated Ida. "That means Richard, doesn't it?" + +"Everybody calls me Dick." + +"I have a cousin Dick," said the young lady, sociably. "His name is +Dick Wilson. I suppose you don't know him?" + +"No," said Dick. + +"I like the name of Dick," said the young lady, with charming +frankness. + +Without being able to tell why, Dick felt rather glad she did. He +plucked up courage to ask her name. + +"My name is Ida," answered the young lady. "Do you like it?" + +"Yes," said Dick. "It's a bully name." + +Dick turned red as soon as he had said it, for he felt that he had +not used the right expression. + +The little girl broke into a silvery laugh. + +"What a funny boy you are!" she said. + +"I didn't mean it," said Dick, stammering. "I meant it's a tip-top +name." + +Here Ida laughed again, and Dick wished himself back in Mott Street. + +"How old are you?" inquired Ida, continuing her examination. + +"I'm fourteen,--goin' on fifteen," said Dick. + +"You're a big boy of your age," said Ida. "My cousin Dick is a year +older than you, but he isn't as large." + +Dick looked pleased. Boys generally like to be told that they are +large of their age. + +"How old be you?" asked Dick, beginning to feel more at his ease. + +"I'm nine years old," said Ida. "I go to Miss Jarvis's school. I've +just begun to learn French. Do you know French?" + +"Not enough to hurt me," said Dick. + +Ida laughed again, and told him that he was a droll boy. + +"Do you like it?" asked Dick. + +"I like it pretty well, except the verbs. I can't remember them +well. Do you go to school?" + +"I'm studying with a private tutor," said Dick. + +"Are you? So is my cousin Dick. He's going to college this year. Are +you going to college?" + +"Not this year." + +"Because, if you did, you know you'd be in the same class with my +cousin. It would be funny to have two Dicks in one class." + +They turned down Twenty-fourth Street, passing the Fifth Avenue +Hotel on the left, and stopped before an elegant house with a brown +stone front. The bell was rung, and the door being opened, the boys, +somewhat abashed, followed Mr. Greyson into a handsome hall. They +were told where to hang their hats, and a moment afterwards were +ushered into a comfortable dining-room, where a table was spread +for dinner. + +Dick took his seat on the edge of a sofa, and was tempted to rub his +eyes to make sure that he was really awake. He could hardly believe +that he was a guest in so fine a mansion. + +Ida helped to put the boys at their ease. + +"Do you like pictures?" she asked. + +"Very much," answered Henry. + +The little girl brought a book of handsome engravings, and, seating +herself beside Dick, to whom she seemed to have taken a decided +fancy, commenced showing them to him. + +"There are the Pyramids of Egypt," she said, pointing to one engraving. + +"What are they for?" asked Dick, puzzled. "I don't see any winders." + +"No," said Ida, "I don't believe anybody lives there. Do they, papa?" + +"No, my dear. They were used for the burial of the dead. The largest +of them is said to be the loftiest building in the world with one +exception. The spire of the Cathedral of Strasburg is twenty-four +feet higher, if I remember rightly." + +"Is Egypt near here?" asked Dick. + +"Oh, no, it's ever so many miles off; about four or five hundred. +Didn't you know?" + +"No," said Dick. "I never heard." + +"You don't appear to be very accurate in your information, Ida," +said her mother. "Four or five thousand miles would be considerably +nearer the truth." + +After a little more conversation they sat down to dinner. Dick +seated himself in an embarrassed way. He was very much afraid of +doing or saying something which would be considered an impropriety, +and had the uncomfortable feeling that everybody was looking at him, +and watching his behavior. + +"Where do you live, Dick?" asked Ida, familiarly. + +"In Mott Street." + +"Where is that?" + +"More than a mile off." + +"Is it a nice street?" + +"Not very," said Dick. "Only poor folks live there." + +"Are you poor?" + +"Little girls should be seen and not heard," said her mother, gently. + +"If you are," said Ida, "I'll give you the five-dollar gold-piece +aunt gave me for a birthday present." + +"Dick cannot be called poor, my child," said Mrs. Greyson, "since he +earns his living by his own exertions." + +"Do you earn your living?" asked Ida, who was a very inquisitive +young lady, and not easily silenced. "What do you do?" + +Dick blushed violently. At such a table, and in presence of the +servant who was standing at that moment behind his chair, he did not +like to say that he was a shoe-black, although he well knew that +there was nothing dishonorable in the occupation. + +Mr. Greyson perceived his feelings, and to spare them, said, "You +are too inquisitive, Ida. Sometime Dick may tell you, but you know +we don't talk of business on Sundays." + +Dick in his embarrassment had swallowed a large spoonful of hot +soup, which made him turn red in the face. For the second time, +in spite of the prospect of the best dinner he had ever eaten, he +wished himself back in Mott Street. Henry Fosdick was more easy +and unembarrassed than Dick, not having led such a vagabond and +neglected life. But it was to Dick that Ida chiefly directed her +conversation, having apparently taken a fancy to his frank and +handsome face. I believe I have already said that Dick was a very +good-looking boy, especially now since he kept his face clean. He +had a frank, honest expression, which generally won its way to the +favor of those with whom he came in contact. + +Dick got along pretty well at the table by dint of noticing how the +rest acted, but there was one thing he could not manage, eating with +his fork, which, by the way, he thought a very singular arrangement. + +At length they arose from the table, somewhat to Dick's relief. +Again Ida devoted herself to the boys, and exhibited a profusely +illustrated Bible for their entertainment. Dick was interested in +looking at the pictures, though he knew very little of their +subjects. Henry Fosdick was much better informed, as might have +been expected. + +When the boys were about to leave the house with Mr. Greyson for the +Sunday school, Ida placed her hand in Dick's, and said persuasively, +"You'll come again, Dick, won't you?" + +"Thank you," said Dick, "I'd like to," and he could not help +thinking Ida the nicest girl he had ever seen. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Greyson, hospitably, "we shall be glad to see you +both here again." + +"Thank you very much," said Henry Fosdick, gratefully. "We shall +like very much to come." + +I will not dwell upon the hour spent in Sunday school, nor upon the +remarks of Mr. Greyson to his class. He found Dick's ignorance of +religious subjects so great that he was obliged to begin at the +beginning with him. Dick was interested in hearing the children +sing, and readily promised to come again the next Sunday. + +When the service was over Dick and Henry walked homewards. Dick +could not help letting his thoughts rest on the sweet little girl +who had given him so cordial a welcome, and hoping that he might +meet her again. + +"Mr. Greyson is a nice man,--isn't he, Dick?" asked Henry, as they +were turning into Mott Street, and were already in sight of their +lodging-house. + +"Aint he, though?" said Dick. "He treated us just as if we were +young gentlemen." + +"Ida seemed to take a great fancy to you." + +"She's a tip-top girl," said Dick, "but she asked so many questions +that I didn't know what to say." + +He had scarcely finished speaking, when a stone whizzed by his head, +and, turning quickly, he saw Micky Maguire running round the corner +of the street which they had just passed. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +MICKY MAGUIRE'S SECOND DEFEAT + + +Dick was no coward. Nor was he in the habit of submitting passively +to an insult. When, therefore, he recognized Micky as his assailant, +he instantly turned and gave chase. Micky anticipated pursuit, and +ran at his utmost speed. It is doubtful if Dick would have overtaken +him, but Micky had the ill luck to trip just as he had entered a +narrow alley, and, falling with some violence, received a sharp blow +from the hard stones, which made him scream with pain. + +"Ow!" he whined. "Don't you hit a feller when he's down." + +"What made you fire that stone at me?" demanded our hero, looking +down at the fallen bully. + +"Just for fun," said Micky. + +"It would have been a very agreeable s'prise if it had hit me," said +Dick. "S'posin' I fire a rock at you jest for fun." + +"Don't!" exclaimed Micky, in alarm. + +"It seems you don't like agreeable s'prises," said Dick, "any more'n +the man did what got hooked by a cow one mornin', before breakfast. +It didn't improve his appetite much." + +"I've most broke my arm," said Micky, ruefully, rubbing the affected +limb. + +"If it's broke you can't fire no more stones, which is a very +cheerin' reflection," said Dick. "Ef you haven't money enough to buy +a wooden one I'll lend you a quarter. There's one good thing about +wooden ones, they aint liable to get cold in winter, which is +another cheerin' reflection." + +"I don't want none of yer cheerin' reflections," said Micky, +sullenly. "Yer company aint wanted here." + +"Thank you for your polite invitation to leave," said Dick, bowing +ceremoniously. "I'm willin' to go, but ef you throw any more stones +at me, Micky Maguire, I'll hurt you worse than the stones did." + +The only answer made to this warning was a scowl from his fallen +opponent. It was quite evident that Dick had the best of it, and +he thought it prudent to say nothing. + +"As I've got a friend waitin' outside, I shall have to tear myself +away," said Dick. "You'd better not throw any more stones, Micky +Maguire, for it don't seem to agree with your constitution." + +Micky muttered something which Dick did not stay to hear. He backed +out of the alley, keeping a watchful eye on his fallen foe, and +rejoined Henry Fosdick, who was awaiting his return. + +"Who was it, Dick?" he asked. + +"A partic'lar friend of mine, Micky Maguire," said Dick. "He +playfully fired a rock at my head as a mark of his 'fection. He +loves me like a brother, Micky does." + +"Rather a dangerous kind of a friend, I should think," +said Fosdick. "He might have killed you." + +"I've warned him not to be so 'fectionate another time," said Dick. + +"I know him," said Henry Fosdick. "He's at the head of a gang of +boys living at the Five-Points. He threatened to whip me once +because a gentleman employed me to black his boots instead of him." + +"He's been at the Island two or three times for stealing," said +Dick. "I guess he won't touch me again. He'd rather get hold of +small boys. If he ever does anything to you, Fosdick, just let +me know, and I'll give him a thrashing." + +Dick was right. Micky Maguire was a bully, and like most bullies did +not fancy tackling boys whose strength was equal or superior to his +own. Although he hated Dick more than ever, because he thought our +hero was putting on airs, he had too lively a remembrance of his +strength and courage to venture upon another open attack. He +contented himself, therefore, whenever he met Dick, with scowling at +him. Dick took this very philosophically, remarking that, "if it was +soothin' to Micky's feelings, he might go ahead, as it didn't hurt +him much." + +It will not be necessary to chronicle the events of the next few +weeks. A new life had commenced for Dick. He no longer haunted the +gallery of the Old Bowery; and even Tony Pastor's hospitable doors +had lost their old attractions. He spent two hours every evening in +study. His progress was astonishingly rapid. He was gifted with a +natural quickness; and he was stimulated by the desire to acquire a +fair education as a means of "growin' up 'spectable," as he termed +it. Much was due also to the patience and perseverance of Henry +Fosdick, who made a capital teacher. + +"You're improving wonderfully, Dick," said his friend, one evening, +when Dick had read an entire paragraph without a mistake. + +"Am I?" said Dick, with satisfaction. + +"Yes. If you'll buy a writing-book to-morrow, we can begin writing +to-morrow evening." + +"What else do you know, Henry?" asked Dick. + +"Arithmetic, and geography, and grammar." + +"What a lot you know!" said Dick, admiringly. + +"I don't _know_ any of them," said Fosdick. "I've only studied them. +I wish I knew a great deal more." + +"I'll be satisfied when I know as much as you," said Dick. + +"It seems a great deal to you now, Dick, but in a few months you'll +think differently. The more you know, the more you'll want to know." + +"Then there aint any end to learnin'?" said Dick. + +"No." + +"Well," said Dick, "I guess I'll be as much as sixty before I +know everything." + +"Yes; as old as that, probably," said Fosdick, laughing. + +"Anyway, you know too much to be blackin' boots. Leave that to +ignorant chaps like me." + +"You won't be ignorant long, Dick." + +"You'd ought to get into some office or countin'-room." + +"I wish I could," said Fosdick, earnestly. "I don't succeed very +well at blacking boots. You make a great deal more than I do." + +"That's cause I aint troubled with bashfulness," said Dick. +"Bashfulness aint as natural to me as it is to you. I'm always on +hand, as the cat said to the milk. You'd better give up shines, +Fosdick, and give your 'tention to mercantile pursuits." + +"I've thought of trying to get a place," said Fosdick; "but no one +would take me with these clothes;" and he directed his glance to his +well-worn suit, which he kept as neat as he could, but which, in +spite of all his care, began to show decided marks of use. There +was also here and there a stain of blacking upon it, which, though +an advertisement of his profession, scarcely added to its good +appearance. + +"I almost wanted to stay at home from Sunday school last Sunday," he +continued, "because I thought everybody would notice how dirty and +worn my clothes had got to be." + +"If my clothes wasn't two sizes too big for you," said Dick, +generously, "I'd change. You'd look as if you'd got into your +great-uncle's suit by mistake." + +"You're very kind, Dick, to think of changing," said Fosdick, "for +your suit is much better than mine; but I don't think that mine +would suit you very well. The pants would show a little more of +your ankles than is the fashion, and you couldn't eat a very hearty +dinner without bursting the buttons off the vest." + +"That wouldn't be very convenient," said Dick. "I aint fond of +lacin' to show my elegant figger. But I say," he added with a +sudden thought, "how much money have we got in the savings' bank?" + +Fosdick took a key from his pocket, and went to the drawer in which +the bank-books were kept, and, opening it, brought them out for +inspection. + +It was found that Dick had the sum of eighteen dollars and ninety +cents placed to his credit, while Fosdick had six dollars and +forty-five cents. To explain the large difference, it must be +remembered that Dick had deposited five dollars before Henry +deposited anything, being the amount he had received as a gift +from Mr. Whitney. + +"How much does that make, the lot of it?" asked Dick. "I aint much +on figgers yet, you know." + +"It makes twenty-five dollars and thirty-five cents, Dick," said his +companion, who did not understand the thought which suggested the +question. + +"Take it, and buy some clothes, Henry," said Dick, shortly. + +"What, your money too?" + +"In course." + +"No, Dick, you are too generous. I couldn't think of it. Almost +three-quarters of the money is yours. You must spend it on +yourself." + +"I don't need it," said Dick. + +"You may not need it now, but you will some time." + +"I shall have some more then." + +"That may be; but it wouldn't be fair for me to use your money, +Dick. I thank you all the same for your kindness." + +"Well, I'll lend it to you, then," persisted Dick, "and you can pay +me when you get to be a rich merchant." + +"But it isn't likely I ever shall be one." + +"How d'you know? I went to a fortun' teller once, and she told me I +was born under a lucky star with a hard name, and I should have a +rich man for my particular friend, who would make my fortun'. I +guess you are going to be the rich man." + +Fosdick laughed, and steadily refused for some time to avail himself +of Dick's generous proposal; but at length, perceiving that our hero +seemed much disappointed, and would be really glad if his offer were +accepted, he agreed to use as much as might be needful. + +This at once brought back Dick's good-humor, and he entered +with great enthusiasm into his friend's plans. + +The next day they withdrew the money from the bank, and, when +business got a little slack, in the afternoon set out in search of +a clothing store. Dick knew enough of the city to be able to find a +place where a good bargain could be obtained. He was determined that +Fosdick should have a good serviceable suit, even if it took all the +money they had. The result of their search was that for twenty-three +dollars Fosdick obtained a very neat outfit, including a couple of +shirts, a hat, and a pair of shoes, besides a dark mixed suit, which +appeared stout and of good quality. + +"Shall I send the bundle home?" asked the salesman, impressed by the +off-hand manner in which Dick drew out the money in payment for the +clothes. + +"Thank you," said Dick, "you're very kind, but I'll take it home +myself, and you can allow me something for my trouble." + +"All right," said the clerk, laughing; "I'll allow it on your next +purchase." + +Proceeding to their apartment in Mott Street, Fosdick at once tried +on his new suit, and it was found to be an excellent fit. Dick +surveyed his new friend with much satisfaction. + +"You look like a young gentleman of fortun'," he said, "and do +credit to your governor." + +"I suppose that means you, Dick," said Fosdick, laughing. + +"In course it does." + +"You should say _of_ course," said Fosdick, who, in virtue of his +position as Dick's tutor, ventured to correct his language from time +to time. + +"How dare you correct your gov'nor?" said Dick, with comic +indignation. "'I'll cut you off with a shillin', you young dog,' as +the Markis says to his nephew in the play at the Old Bowery." + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +FOSDICK CHANGES HIS BUSINESS + + +Fosdick did not venture to wear his new clothes while engaged in his +business. This he felt would have been wasteful extravagance. About +ten o'clock in the morning, when business slackened, he went home, +and dressing himself went to a hotel where he could see copies of +the "Morning Herald" and "Sun," and, noting down the places where a +boy was wanted, went on a round of applications. But he found it no +easy thing to obtain a place. Swarms of boys seemed to be out of +employment, and it was not unusual to find from fifty to a hundred +applicants for a single place. + +There was another difficulty. It was generally desired that the +boy wanted should reside with his parents. When Fosdick, on being +questioned, revealed the fact of his having no parents, and being +a boy of the street, this was generally sufficient of itself to +insure a refusal. Merchants were afraid to trust one who had led +such a vagabond life. Dick, who was always ready for an emergency, +suggested borrowing a white wig, and passing himself off for +Fosdick's father or grandfather. But Henry thought this might be +rather a difficult character for our hero to sustain. After fifty +applications and as many failures, Fosdick began to get discouraged. +There seemed to be no way out of his present business, for which he +felt unfitted. + +"I don't know but I shall have to black boots all my life," he said, +one day, despondently, to Dick. + +"Keep a stiff upper lip," said Dick. "By the time you get to be a +gray-headed veteran, you may get a chance to run errands for some +big firm on the Bowery, which is a very cheerin' reflection." + +So Dick by his drollery and perpetual good spirits kept up +Fosdick's courage. + +"As for me," said Dick, "I expect by that time to lay up a colossal +fortun' out of shines, and live in princely style on the Avenoo." + +But one morning, Fosdick, straying into French's Hotel, discovered +the following advertisement in the columns of "The Herald,"-- + +"WANTED--A smart, capable boy to run errands, and make himself +generally useful in a hat and cap store. Salary three dollars a +week at first. Inquire at No. -- Broadway, after ten o'clock, A.M." + +He determined to make application, and, as the City Hall clock just +then struck the hour indicated, lost no time in proceeding to the +store, which was only a few blocks distant from the Astor House. +It was easy to find the store, as from a dozen to twenty boys were +already assembled in front of it. They surveyed each other askance, +feeling that they were rivals, and mentally calculating each other's +chances. + +"There isn't much chance for me," said Fosdick to Dick, who had +accompanied him. "Look at all these boys. Most of them have good +homes, I suppose, and good recommendations, while I have nobody to +refer to." + +"Go ahead," said Dick. "Your chance is as good as anybody's." + +While this was passing between Dick and his companion, one of the +boys, a rather supercilious-looking young gentleman, genteelly +dressed, and evidently having a very high opinion of his dress and +himself turned suddenly to Dick, and remarked,-- + +"I've seen you before." + +"Oh, have you?" said Dick, whirling round; "then p'r'aps you'd like +to see me behind." + +At this unexpected answer all the boys burst into a laugh with the +exception of the questioner, who, evidently, considered that Dick +had been disrespectful. + +"I've seen you somewhere," he said, in a surly tone, correcting +himself. + +"Most likely you have," said Dick. "That's where I generally keep +myself." + +There was another laugh at the expense of Roswell Crawford, for that +was the name of the young aristocrat. But he had his revenge ready. +No boy relishes being an object of ridicule, and it was with a +feeling of satisfaction that he retorted,-- + +"I know you for all your impudence. You're nothing but a +boot-black." + +This information took the boys who were standing around by surprise, +for Dick was well-dressed, and had none of the implements of his +profession with him. + +"S'pose I be," said Dick. "Have you got any objection?" + +"Not at all," said Roswell, curling his lip; "only you'd better +stick to blacking boots, and not try to get into a store." + +"Thank you for your kind advice," said Dick. "Is it gratooitous, or +do you expect to be paid for it?" + +"You're an impudent fellow." + +"That's a very cheerin' reflection," said Dick, good-naturedly. + +"Do you expect to get this place when there's gentlemen's sons +applying for it? A boot-black in a store! That would be a good +joke." + +Boys as well as men are selfish, and, looking upon Dick as a +possible rival, the boys who listened seemed disposed to take the +same view of the situation. + +"That's what I say," said one of them, taking sides with Roswell. + +"Don't trouble yourselves," said Dick. "I aint agoin' to cut you +out. I can't afford to give up a independent and loocrative +purfession for a salary of three dollars a week." + +"Hear him talk!" said Roswell Crawford, with an unpleasant sneer. +"If you are not trying to get the place, what are you here for?" + +"I came with a friend of mine," said Dick, indicating Fosdick, +"who's goin' in for the situation." + +"Is he a boot-black, too?" demanded Roswell, superciliously. + +"He!" retorted Dick, loftily. "Didn't you know his father was a +member of Congress, and intimately acquainted with all the biggest +men in the State?" + +The boys surveyed Fosdick as if they did not quite know whether to +credit this statement, which, for the credit of Dick's veracity, it +will be observed he did not assert, but only propounded in the form +of a question. There was no time for comment, however, as just then +the proprietor of the store came to the door, and, casting his eyes +over the waiting group, singled out Roswell Crawford, and asked him +to enter. + +"Well, my lad, how old are you?" + +"Fourteen years old," said Roswell, consequentially. + +"Are your parents living?" + +"Only my mother. My father is dead. He was a gentleman," he added, +complacently. + +"Oh, was he?" said the shop-keeper. "Do you live in the city?" + +"Yes, sir. In Clinton Place." + +"Have you ever been in a situation before?" + +"Yes, sir," said Roswell, a little reluctantly. + +"Where was it?" + +"In an office on Dey Street." + +"How long were you there?" + +"A week." + +"It seems to me that was a short time. Why did you not stay longer?" + +"Because," said Roswell, loftily, "the man wanted me to get to the +office at eight o'clock, and make the fire. I'm a gentleman's son, +and am not used to such dirty work." + +"Indeed!" said the shop-keeper. "Well, young gentleman, you may step +aside a few minutes. I will speak with some of the other boys before +making my selection." + +Several other boys were called in and questioned. Roswell stood by +and listened with an air of complacency. He could not help thinking +his chances the best. "The man can see I'm a gentleman, and will do +credit to his store," he thought. + +At length it came to Fosdick's turn. He entered with no very +sanguine anticipations of success. Unlike Roswell, he set a very low +estimate upon his qualifications when compared with those of other +applicants. But his modest bearing, and quiet, gentlemanly manner, +entirely free from pretension, prepossessed the shop-keeper, who was +a sensible man, in his favor. + +"Do you reside in the city?" he asked. + +"Yes, sir," said Henry. + +"What is your age?" + +"Twelve." + +"Have you ever been in any situation?" + +"No, sir." + +"I should like to see a specimen of your handwriting. +Here, take the pen and write your name." + +Henry Fosdick had a very handsome handwriting for a boy of his age, +while Roswell, who had submitted to the same test, could do little +more than scrawl. + +"Do you reside with your parents?" + +"No, sir, they are dead." + +"Where do you live, then?" + +"In Mott Street." + +Roswell curled his lip when this name was pronounced, for Mott +Street, as my New York readers know, is in the immediate +neighborhood of the Five-Points, and very far from a fashionable +locality. + +"Have you any testimonials to present?" asked Mr. Henderson, for +that was his name. + +Fosdick hesitated. This was the question which he had foreseen would +give him trouble. + +But at this moment it happened most opportunely that Mr. Greyson +entered the shop with the intention of buying a hat. + +"Yes," said Fosdick, promptly; "I will refer to this gentleman." + +"How do you do, Fosdick?" asked Mr. Greyson, noticing him for the +first time. "How do you happen to be here?" + +"I am applying for a place, sir," said Fosdick. "May I refer the +gentleman to you?" + +"Certainly, I shall be glad to speak a good word for you. Mr. +Henderson, this is a member of my Sunday-school class, of whose good +qualities and good abilities I can speak confidently." + +"That will be sufficient," said the shop-keeper, who knew Mr. +Greyson's high character and position. "He could have no better +recommendation. You may come to the store to-morrow morning at half +past seven o'clock. The pay will be three dollars a week for the +first six months. If I am satisfied with you, I shall then raise +it to five dollars." + +The other boys looked disappointed, but none more so than Roswell +Crawford. He would have cared less if any one else had obtained the +situation; but for a boy who lived in Mott Street to be preferred +to him, a gentleman's son, he considered indeed humiliating. In a +spirit of petty spite, he was tempted to say, + +"He's a boot-black. Ask him if he isn't." + +"He's an honest and intelligent lad," said Mr. Greyson. "As for you, +young man, I only hope you have one-half his good qualities." + +Roswell Crawford left the store in disgust, and the other +unsuccessful applicants with him. + +"What luck, Fosdick?" asked Dick, eagerly, as his friend came out of +the store. + +"I've got the place," said Fosdick, in accents of satisfaction; "but +it was only because Mr. Greyson spoke up for me." + +"He's a trump," said Dick, enthusiastically. + +The gentleman, so denominated, came out before the boys went away, +and spoke with them kindly. + +Both Dick and Henry were highly pleased at the success of the +application. The pay would indeed be small, but, expended +economically, Fosdick thought he could get along on it, receiving +his room rent, as before, in return for his services as Dick's +private tutor. Dick determined, as soon as his education would +permit, to follow his companion's example. + +"I don't know as you'll be willin' to room with a boot-black," he +said, to Henry, "now you're goin' into business." + +"I couldn't room with a better friend, Dick," said Fosdick, +affectionately, throwing his arm round our hero. "When we part, +it'll be because you wish it." + +So Fosdick entered upon a new career. + + + +CHAPTER XX + +NINE MONTHS LATER + + +The next morning Fosdick rose early, put on his new suit, and, after +getting breakfast, set out for the Broadway store in which he had +obtained a position. He left his little blacking-box in the room. + +"It'll do to brush my own shoes," he said. "Who knows but I may have +to come back to it again?" + +"No danger," said Dick; "I'll take care of the feet, and you'll have +to look after the heads, now you're in a hat-store." + +"I wish you had a place too," said Fosdick. + +"I don't know enough yet," said Dick. "Wait till I've gradooated." + +"And can put A.B. after your name." + +"What's that?" + +"It stands for Bachelor of Arts. It's a degree that students get +when they graduate from college." + +"Oh," said Dick, "I didn't know but it meant A Boot-black. I can put +that after my name now. Wouldn't Dick Hunter, A.B., sound tip-top?" + +"I must be going," said Fosdick. "It won't do for me to be late the +very first morning." + +"That's the difference between you and me," said Dick. "I'm my own +boss, and there aint no one to find fault with me if I'm late. But I +might as well be goin' too. There's a gent as comes down to his +store pretty early that generally wants a shine." + +The two boys parted at the Park. Fosdick crossed it, and proceeded +to the hat-store, while Dick, hitching up his pants, began to look +about him for a customer. It was seldom that Dick had to wait long. +He was always on the alert, and if there was any business to do +he was always sure to get his share of it. He had now a stronger +inducement than ever to attend strictly to business; his little +stock of money in the savings bank having been nearly exhausted by +his liberality to his room-mate. He determined to be as economical +as possible, and moreover to study as hard as he could, that he +might be able to follow Fosdick's example, and obtain a place in +a store or counting-room. As there were no striking incidents +occurring in our hero's history within the next nine months, I +propose to pass over that period, and recount the progress he made +in that time. + +Fosdick was still at the hat-store, having succeeded in giving +perfect satisfaction to Mr. Henderson. His wages had just been +raised to five dollars a week. He and Dick still kept house together +at Mrs. Mooney's lodging-house, and lived very frugally, so that +both were able to save up money. Dick had been unusually successful +in business. He had several regular patrons, who had been drawn to +him by his ready wit, and quick humor, and from two of them he had +received presents of clothing, which had saved him any expense on +that score. His income had averaged quite seven dollars a week in +addition to this. Of this amount he was now obliged to pay one +dollar weekly for the room which he and Fosdick occupied, but he +was still able to save one half the remainder. At the end of nine +months therefore, or thirty-nine weeks, it will be seen that he had +accumulated no less a sum than one hundred and seventeen dollars. +Dick may be excused for feeling like a capitalist when he looked at +the long row of deposits in his little bank-book. There were other +boys in the same business who had earned as much money, but they +had had little care for the future, and spent as they went along, +so that few could boast a bank-account, however small. + +"You'll be a rich man some time, Dick," said Henry Fosdick, +one evening. + +"And live on Fifth Avenoo," said Dick. + +"Perhaps so. Stranger things have happened." + +"Well," said Dick, "if such a misfortin' should come upon me I +should bear it like a man. When you see a Fifth Avenoo manshun for +sale for a hundred and seventeen dollars, just let me know and I'll +buy it as an investment." + +"Two hundred and fifty years ago you might have bought one for that +price, probably. Real estate wasn't very high among the Indians." + +"Just my luck," said Dick; "I was born too late. I'd orter have been +an Indian, and lived in splendor on my present capital." + +"I'm afraid you'd have found your present business rather +unprofitable at that time." + +But Dick had gained something more valuable than money. He had +studied regularly every evening, and his improvement had been +marvellous. He could now read well, write a fair hand, and had +studied arithmetic as far as Interest. Besides this he had obtained +some knowledge of grammar and geography. If some of my boy readers, +who have been studying for years, and got no farther than this, +should think it incredible that Dick, in less than a year, and +studying evenings only, should have accomplished it, they must +remember that our hero was very much in earnest in his desire to +improve. He knew that, in order to grow up respectable, he must be +well advanced, and he was willing to work. But then the reader must +not forget that Dick was naturally a smart boy. His street education +had sharpened his faculties, and taught him to rely upon himself. He +knew that it would take him a long time to reach the goal which he +had set before him, and he had patience to keep on trying. He knew +that he had only himself to depend upon, and he determined to make +the most of himself,--a resolution which is the secret of success +in nine cases out of ten. + +"Dick," said Fosdick, one evening, after they had completed their +studies, "I think you'll have to get another teacher soon." + +"Why?" asked Dick, in some surprise. "Have you been offered a more +loocrative position?" + +"No," said Fosdick, "but I find I have taught you all I know myself. +You are now as good a scholar as I am." + +"Is that true?" said Dick, eagerly, a flush of gratification +coloring his brown cheek. + +"Yes," said Fosdick. "You've made wonderful progress. I propose, +now that evening schools have begun, that we join one, and study +together through the winter." + +"All right," said Dick. "I'd be willin' to go now; but when I first +began to study I was ashamed to have anybody know that I was so +ignorant. Do you really mean, Fosdick, that I know as much as you?" + +"Yes, Dick, it's true." + +"Then I've got you to thank for it," said Dick, earnestly. "You've +made me what I am." + +"And haven't you paid me, Dick?" + +"By payin' the room-rent," said Dick, impulsively. "What's that? It +isn't half enough. I wish you'd take half my money; you deserve it." + +"Thank you, Dick, but you're too generous. You've more than paid me. +Who was it took my part when all the other boys imposed upon me? And +who gave me money to buy clothes, and so got me my situation?" + +"Oh, that's nothing!" said Dick. + +"It's a great deal, Dick. I shall never forget it. But now it seems +to me you might try to get a situation yourself." + +"Do I know enough?" + +"You know as much as I do." + +"Then I'll try," said Dick, decidedly. + +"I wish there was a place in our store," said Fosdick. "It would be +pleasant for us to be together." + +"Never mind," said Dick; "there'll be plenty of other chances. +P'r'aps A. T. Stewart might like a partner. I wouldn't ask more'n a +quarter of the profits." + +"Which would be a very liberal proposal on your part," said Fosdick, +smiling. "But perhaps Mr. Stewart might object to a partner living +on Mott Street." + +"I'd just as lieves move to Fifth Avenoo," said Dick. "I aint got no +prejudices in favor of Mott Street." + +"Nor I," said Fosdick, "and in fact I have been thinking it might be +a good plan for us to move as soon as we could afford. Mrs. Mooney +doesn't keep the room quite so neat as she might." + +"No," said Dick. "She aint got no prejudices against dirt. Look at +that towel." + +Dick held up the article indicated, which had now seen service +nearly a week, and hard service at that,--Dick's avocation causing +him to be rather hard on towels. + +"Yes," said Fosdick, "I've got about tired of it. I guess we can +find some better place without having to pay much more. When we +move, you must let me pay my share of the rent." + +"We'll see about that," said Dick. "Do you propose to move to +Fifth Avenoo?" + +"Not just at present, but to some more agreeable neighborhood than +this. We'll wait till you get a situation, and then we can decide." + +A few days later, as Dick was looking about for customers in the +neighborhood of the Park, his attention was drawn to a fellow +boot-black, a boy about a year younger than himself, who appeared to +have been crying. + +"What's the matter, Tom?" asked Dick. "Haven't you had luck to-day?" + +"Pretty good," said the boy; "but we're havin' hard times at home. +Mother fell last week and broke her arm, and to-morrow we've got to +pay the rent, and if we don't the landlord says he'll turn us out." + +"Haven't you got anything except what you earn?" asked Dick. + +"No," said Tom, "not now. Mother used to earn three or four dollars +a week; but she can't do nothin' now, and my little sister and +brother are too young." + +Dick had quick sympathies. He had been so poor himself, and +obliged to submit to so many privations that he knew from personal +experience how hard it was. Tom Wilkins he knew as an excellent boy +who never squandered his money, but faithfully carried it home to +his mother. In the days of his own extravagance and shiftlessness +he had once or twice asked Tom to accompany him to the Old Bowery +or Tony Pastor's, but Tom had always steadily refused. + +"I'm sorry for you, Tom," he said. "How much do you owe for rent?" + +"Two weeks now," said Tom. + +"How much is it a week?" + +"Two dollars a week--that makes four." + +"Have you got anything towards it?" + +"No; I've had to spend all my money for food for mother and the rest +of us. I've had pretty hard work to do that. I don't know what we'll +do. I haven't any place to go to, and I'm afraid mother'll get cold +in her arm." + +"Can't you borrow the money somewhere?" asked Dick. + +Tom shook his head despondingly. + +"All the people I know are as poor as I am," said he. "They'd help +me if they could, but it's hard work for them to get along +themselves." + +"I'll tell you what, Tom," said Dick, impulsively, "I'll stand your +friend." + +"Have you got any money?" asked Tom, doubtfully. + +"Got any money!" repeated Dick. "Don't you know that I run a bank on +my own account? How much is it you need?" + +"Four dollars," said Tom. "If we don't pay that before to-morrow +night, out we go. You haven't got as much as that, have you?" + +"Here are three dollars," said Dick, drawing out his pocket-book. +"I'll let you have the rest to-morrow, and maybe a little more." + +"You're a right down good fellow, Dick," said Tom; "but won't you +want it yourself?" + +"Oh, I've got some more," said Dick. + +"Maybe I'll never be able to pay you." + +"S'pose you don't," said Dick; "I guess I won't fail." + +"I won't forget it, Dick. I hope I'll be able to do somethin' for +you sometime." + +"All right," said Dick. "I'd ought to help you. I haven't got no +mother to look out for. I wish I had." + +There was a tinge of sadness in his tone, as he pronounced the last +four words; but Dick's temperament was sanguine, and he never gave +way to unavailing sadness. Accordingly he began to whistle as he +turned away, only adding, "I'll see you to-morrow, Tom." + +The three dollars which Dick had handed to Tom Wilkins were his +savings for the present week. It was now Thursday afternoon. His +rent, which amounted to a dollar, he expected to save out of the +earnings of Friday and Saturday. In order to give Tom the additional +assistance he had promised, Dick would be obliged to have recourse +to his bank-savings. He would not have ventured to trench upon it +for any other reason but this. But he felt that it would be selfish +to allow Tom and his mother to suffer when he had it in his power +to relieve them. But Dick was destined to be surprised, and that in +a disagreeable manner, when he reached home. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +DICK LOSES HIS BANK-BOOK + + +It was hinted at the close of the last chapter that Dick was +destined to be disagreeably surprised on reaching home. + +Having agreed to give further assistance to Tom Wilkins, he was +naturally led to go to the drawer where he and Fosdick kept their +bank-books. To his surprise and uneasiness _the drawer proved to be +empty!_ + +"Come here a minute, Fosdick," he said. + +"What's the matter, Dick?" + +"I can't find my bank-book, nor yours either. What's 'come of them?" + +"I took mine with me this morning, thinking I might want to put in a +little more money. I've got it in my pocket, now." + +"But where's mine?" asked Dick, perplexed. + +"I don't know. I saw it in the drawer when I took mine this morning." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Yes, positive, for I looked into it to see how much you had got." + +"Did you lock it again?" asked Dick. + +"Yes; didn't you have to unlock it just now?" + +"So I did," said Dick. "But it's gone now. Somebody opened it with a +key that fitted the lock, and then locked it ag'in." + +"That must have been the way." + +"It's rather hard on a feller," said Dick, who, for the first time +since we became acquainted with him, began to feel down-hearted. + +"Don't give it up, Dick. You haven't lost the money, only the +bank-book." + +"Aint that the same thing?" + +"No. You can go to the bank to-morrow morning, as soon as it opens, +and tell them you have lost the book, and ask them not to pay the +money to any one except yourself." + +"So I can," said Dick, brightening up. "That is, if the thief hasn't +been to the bank to-day." + +"If he has, they might detect him by his handwriting." + +"I'd like to get hold of the one that stole it," said Dick, +indignantly. "I'd give him a good lickin'." + +"It must have been somebody in the house. Suppose we go and see Mrs. +Mooney. She may know whether anybody came into our room to-day." + +The two boys went downstairs, and knocked at the door of a little +back sitting-room where Mrs. Mooney generally spent her evenings. It +was a shabby little room, with a threadbare carpet on the floor, the +walls covered with a certain large-figured paper, patches of which +had been stripped off here and there, exposing the plaster, the +remainder being defaced by dirt and grease. But Mrs. Mooney had one +of those comfortable temperaments which are tolerant of dirt, and +didn't mind it in the least. She was seated beside a small pine +work-table, industriously engaged in mending stockings. + +"Good-evening, Mrs. Mooney," said Fosdick, politely. + +"Good-evening," said the landlady. "Sit down, if you can find +chairs. I'm hard at work as you see, but a poor lone widder can't +afford to be idle." + +"We can't stop long, Mrs. Mooney, but my friend here has had +something taken from his room to-day, and we thought we'd come and +see you about it." + +"What is it?" asked the landlady. "You don't think I'd take +anything? If I am poor, it's an honest name I've always had, as all +my lodgers can testify." + +"Certainly not, Mrs. Mooney; but there are others in the house that +may not be honest. My friend has lost his bank-book. It was safe in +the drawer this morning, but to-night it is not to be found." + +"How much money was there in it?" asked Mrs. Mooney. + +"Over a hundred dollars," said Fosdick. + +"It was my whole fortun'," said Dick. "I was goin' to buy a house +next year." + +Mrs. Mooney was evidently surprised to learn the extent of Dick's +wealth, and was disposed to regard him with increased respect. + +"Was the drawer locked?" she asked. + +"Yes." + +"Then it couldn't have been Bridget. I don't think she has any +keys." + +"She wouldn't know what a bank-book was," said Fosdick. "You didn't +see any of the lodgers go into our room to-day, did you?" + +"I shouldn't wonder if it was Jim Travis," said Mrs. Mooney, suddenly. + +This James Travis was a bar-tender in a low groggery in Mulberry +Street, and had been for a few weeks an inmate of Mrs. Mooney's +lodging-house. He was a coarse-looking fellow who, from his +appearance, evidently patronized liberally the liquor he dealt out +to others. He occupied a room opposite Dick's, and was often heard +by the two boys reeling upstairs in a state of intoxication, +uttering shocking oaths. + +This Travis had made several friendly overtures to Dick and his +room-mate, and had invited them to call round at the bar-room where +he tended, and take something. But this invitation had never been +accepted, partly because the boys were better engaged in the +evening, and partly because neither of them had taken a fancy to Mr. +Travis; which certainly was not strange, for nature had not gifted +him with many charms, either of personal appearance or manners. The +rejection of his friendly proffers had caused him to take a dislike +to Dick and Henry, whom he considered stiff and unsocial. + +"What makes you think it was Travis?" asked Fosdick. "He isn't at +home in the daytime." + +"But he was to-day. He said he had got a bad cold, and had to come +home for a clean handkerchief." + +"Did you see him?" asked Dick. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Mooney. "Bridget was hanging out clothes, and I +went to the door to let him in." + +"I wonder if he had a key that would fit our drawer," said Fosdick. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Mooney. "The bureaus in the two rooms are just +alike. I got 'em at auction, and most likely the locks is the same." + +"It must have been he," said Dick, looking towards Fosdick. + +"Yes," said Fosdick, "it looks like it." + +"What's to be done? That's what I'd like to know," said Dick. "Of +course he'll say he hasn't got it; and he won't be such a fool as to +leave it in his room." + +"If he hasn't been to the bank, it's all right," said Fosdick. "You +can go there the first thing to-morrow morning, and stop their +paying any money on it." + +"But I can't get any money on it myself," said Dick. "I told Tom +Wilkins I'd let him have some more money to-morrow, or his sick +mother'll have to turn out of their lodgin's." + +"How much money were you going to give him?" + +"I gave him three dollars to-day, and was goin' to give him two +dollars to-morrow." + +"I've got the money, Dick. I didn't go to the bank this morning." + +"All right. I'll take it, and pay you back next week." + +"No, Dick; if you've given three dollars, you must let me give two." + +"No, Fosdick, I'd rather give the whole. You know I've got more +money than you. No, I haven't, either," said Dick, the memory of his +loss flashing upon him. "I thought I was rich this morning, but now +I'm in destitoot circumstances." + +"Cheer up, Dick; you'll get your money back." + +"I hope so," said our hero, rather ruefully. + +The fact was, that our friend Dick was beginning to feel what is +so often experienced by men who do business of a more important +character and on a larger scale than he, the bitterness of a reverse +of circumstances. With one hundred dollars and over carefully laid +away in the savings bank, he had felt quite independent. Wealth is +comparative, and Dick probably felt as rich as many men who are +worth a hundred thousand dollars. He was beginning to feel the +advantages of his steady self-denial, and to experience the +pleasures of property. Not that Dick was likely to be unduly +attached to money. Let it be said to his credit that it had never +given him so much satisfaction as when it enabled him to help Tom +Wilkins in his trouble. + +Besides this, there was another thought that troubled him. When he +obtained a place he could not expect to receive as much as he was +now making from blacking boots,--probably not more than three +dollars a week,--while his expenses without clothing would amount to +four dollars. To make up the deficiency he had confidently relied +upon his savings, which would be sufficient to carry him along for a +year, if necessary. If he should not recover his money, he would be +compelled to continue a boot-black for at least six months longer; +and this was rather a discouraging reflection. On the whole it is +not to be wondered at that Dick felt unusually sober this evening, +and that neither of the boys felt much like studying. + +The two boys consulted as to whether it would be best to speak to +Travis about it. It was not altogether easy to decide. Fosdick was +opposed to it. + +"It will only put him on his guard," said he, "and I don't see as it +will do any good. Of course he will deny it. We'd better keep quiet, +and watch him, and, by giving notice at the bank, we can make sure +that he doesn't get any money on it. If he does present himself at +the bank, they will know at once that he is a thief, and he can be +arrested." + +This view seemed reasonable, and Dick resolved to adopt it. On the +whole, he began to think prospects were brighter than he had at +first supposed, and his spirits rose a little. + +"How'd he know I had any bank-book? That's what I can't make out," +he said. + +"Don't you remember?" said Fosdick, after a moment's thought, "we +were speaking of our savings, two or three evenings since?" + +"Yes," said Dick. + +"Our door was a little open at the time, and I heard somebody come +upstairs, and stop a minute in front of it. It must have been Jim +Travis. In that way he probably found out about your money, and took +the opportunity to-day to get hold of it." + +This might or might not be the correct explanation. At all events it +seemed probable. + +The boys were just on the point of going to bed, later in the +evening, when a knock was heard at the door, and, to their no little +surprise, their neighbor, Jim Travis, proved to be the caller. He +was a sallow-complexioned young man, with dark hair and bloodshot +eyes. + +He darted a quick glance from one to the other as he entered, which +did not escape the boys' notice. + +"How are ye, to-night?" he said, sinking into one of the two chairs +with which the room was scantily furnished. + +"Jolly," said Dick. "How are you?" + +"Tired as a dog," was the reply. "Hard work and poor pay; that's the +way with me. I wanted to go to the theater, to-night, but I was hard +up, and couldn't raise the cash." + +Here he darted another quick glance at the boys; but neither +betrayed anything. + +"You don't go out much, do you?" he said + +"Not much," said Fosdick. "We spend our evenings in study." + +"That's precious slow," said Travis, rather contemptuously. "What's +the use of studying so much? You don't expect to be a lawyer, do +you, or anything of that sort?" + +"Maybe," said Dick. "I haven't made up my mind yet. If my +feller-citizens should want me to go to Congress some time, I +shouldn't want to disapp'int 'em; and then readin' and writin' +might come handy." + +"Well," said Travis, rather abruptly, "I'm tired and I guess +I'll turn in." + +"Good-night," said Fosdick. + +The boys looked at each other as their visitor left the room. + +"He came in to see if we'd missed the bank-book," said Dick. + +"And to turn off suspicion from himself, by letting us know he had +no money," added Fosdick. + +"That's so," said Dick. "I'd like to have searched them pockets +of his." + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +TRACKING THE THIEF + + +Fosdick was right in supposing that Jim Travis had stolen the +bank-book. He was also right in supposing that that worthy young +man had come to the knowledge of Dick's savings by what he had +accidentally overheard. Now, Travis, like a very large number of +young men of his class, was able to dispose of a larger amount of +money than he was able to earn. Moreover, he had no great fancy for +work at all, and would have been glad to find some other way of +obtaining money enough to pay his expenses. He had recently received +a letter from an old companion, who had strayed out to California, +and going at once to the mines had been lucky enough to get +possession of a very remunerative claim. He wrote to Travis that he +had already realized two thousand dollars from it, and expected to +make his fortune within six months. + +Two thousand dollars! This seemed to Travis a very large sum, and +quite dazzled his imagination. He was at once inflamed with the +desire to go out to California and try his luck. In his present +situation he only received thirty dollars a month, which was +probably all that his services were worth, but went a very little +way towards gratifying his expensive tastes. Accordingly he +determined to take the next steamer to the land of gold, if he +could possibly manage to get money enough to pay the passage. + +The price of a steerage passage at that time was seventy-five +dollars,--not a large sum, certainly,--but it might as well have +been seventy-five hundred for any chance James Travis had of raising +the amount at present. His available funds consisted of precisely +two dollars and a quarter; of which sum, one dollar and a half was +due to his washerwoman. This, however, would not have troubled +Travis much, and he would conveniently have forgotten all about it; +but, even leaving this debt unpaid, the sum at his command would not +help him materially towards paying his passage money. + +Travis applied for help to two or three of his companions; but they +were all of that kind who never keep an account with savings banks, +but carry all their spare cash about with them. One of these friends +offered to lend him thirty-seven cents, and another a dollar; but +neither of these offers seemed to encourage him much. He was about +giving up his project in despair, when he learned, accidentally, as +we have already said, the extent of Dick's savings. + +One hundred and seventeen dollars! Why, that would not only pay his +passage, but carry him up to the mines, after he had arrived in San +Francisco. He could not help thinking it over, and the result of +this thinking was that he determined to borrow it of Dick without +leave. Knowing that neither of the boys were in their room in the +daytime, he came back in the course of the morning, and, being +admitted by Mrs. Mooney herself, said, by way of accounting for his +presence, that he had a cold, and had come back for a handkerchief. +The landlady suspected nothing, and, returning at once to her work +in the kitchen, left the coast clear. + +Travis at once entered Dick's room, and, as there seemed to be no +other place for depositing money, tried the bureau-drawers. They +were all readily opened, except one, which proved to be locked. This +he naturally concluded must contain the money, and going back to his +own chamber for the key of the bureau, tried it on his return, and +found to his satisfaction that it would fit. When he discovered the +bank-book, his joy was mingled with disappointment. He had expected +to find bank-bills instead. This would have saved all further +trouble, and would have been immediately available. Obtaining money +at the savings bank would involve fresh risk. Travis hesitated +whether to take it or not; but finally decided that it would be +worth the trouble and hazard. + +He accordingly slipped the book into his pocket, locked the drawer +again, and, forgetting all about the handkerchief for which he had +come home went downstairs, and into the street. + +There would have been time to go to the savings bank that day, but +Travis had already been absent from his place of business some time, +and did not venture to take the additional time required. Besides, +not being very much used to savings banks, never having had occasion +to use them, he thought it would be more prudent to look over the +rules and regulations, and see if he could not get some information +as to the way he ought to proceed. So the day passed, and Dick's +money was left in safety at the bank. + +In the evening, it occurred to Travis that it might be well to find +out whether Dick had discovered his loss. This reflection it was +that induced the visit which is recorded at the close of the last +chapter. The result was that he was misled by the boys' silence on +the subject, and concluded that nothing had yet been discovered. + +"Good!" thought Travis, with satisfaction. "If they don't find out +for twenty-four hours, it'll be too late, then, and I shall be all +right." + +There being a possibility of the loss being discovered before the +boys went out in the morning, Travis determined to see them at that +time, and judge whether such was the case. He waited, therefore, +until he heard the boys come out, and then opened his own door. + +"Morning, gents," said he, sociably. "Going to business?" + +"Yes," said Dick. "I'm afraid my clerks'll be lazy if I aint +on hand." + +"Good joke!" said Travis. "If you pay good wages, I'd like to speak +for a place." + +"I pay all I get myself," said Dick. "How's business with you?" + +"So so. Why don't you call round, some time?" + +"All my evenin's is devoted to literatoor and science," said Dick. +"Thank you all the same." + +"Where do you hang out?" inquired Travis, in choice language, +addressing Fosdick. + +"At Henderson's hat and cap store, on Broadway." + +"I'll look in upon you some time when I want a tile," said Travis. +"I suppose you sell cheaper to your friends." + +"I'll be as reasonable as I can," said Fosdick, not very cordially; +for he did not much fancy having it supposed by his employer that +such a disreputable-looking person as Travis was a friend of his. + +However, Travis had no idea of showing himself at the Broadway +store, and only said this by way of making conversation, and +encouraging the boys to be social. + +"You haven't any of you gents seen a pearl-handled knife, have you?" +he asked. + +"No," said Fosdick; "have you lost one?" + +"Yes," said Travis, with unblushing falsehood. "I left it on my +bureau a day or two since. I've missed one or two other little +matters. Bridget don't look to me any too honest. Likely she's +got 'em." + +"What are you goin' to do about it?" said Dick. + +"I'll keep mum unless I lose something more, and then I'll kick up a +row, and haul her over the coals. Have you missed anything?" + +"No," said Fosdick, answering for himself, as he could do without +violating the truth. + +There was a gleam of satisfaction in the eyes of Travis, as he heard +this. + +"They haven't found it out yet," he thought. "I'll bag the money +to-day, and then they may whistle for it." + +Having no further object to serve in accompanying the boys, he bade +them good-morning, and turned down another street. + +"He's mighty friendly all of a sudden," said Dick. + +"Yes," said Fosdick; "it's very evident what it all means. He wants +to find out whether you have discovered your loss or not." + +"But he didn't find out." + +"No; we've put him on the wrong track. He means to get his money +to-day, no doubt." + +"My money," suggested Dick. + +"I accept the correction," said Fosdick. + +"Of course, Dick, you'll be on hand as soon as the bank opens." + +"In course I shall. Jim Travis'll find he's walked into the +wrong shop." + +"The bank opens at ten o'clock, you know." + +"I'll be there on time." + +The two boys separated. + +"Good luck, Dick," said Fosdick, as he parted from him. "It'll all +come out right, I think." + +"I hope 'twill," said Dick. + +He had recovered from his temporary depression, and made up his mind +that the money would be recovered. He had no idea of allowing +himself to be outwitted by Jim Travis, and enjoyed already, in +anticipation, the pleasure of defeating his rascality. + +It wanted two hours and a half yet to ten o'clock, and this time to +Dick was too precious to be wasted. It was the time of his greatest +harvest. He accordingly repaired to his usual place of business, +succeeded in obtaining six customers, which yielded him sixty cents. +He then went to a restaurant, and got some breakfast. It was now +half-past nine, and Dick, feeling that it wouldn't do to be late, +left his box in charge of Johnny Nolan, and made his way to the +bank. + +The officers had not yet arrived, and Dick lingered on the outside, +waiting till they should come. He was not without a little +uneasiness, fearing that Travis might be as prompt as himself, and +finding him there, might suspect something, and so escape the snare. +But, though looking cautiously up and down the street, he could +discover no traces of the supposed thief. In due time ten o'clock +struck, and immediately afterwards the doors of the bank were thrown +open, and our hero entered. + +As Dick had been in the habit of making a weekly visit for the last +nine months, the cashier had come to know him by sight. + +"You're early, this morning, my lad," he said, pleasantly. "Have you +got some more money to deposit? You'll be getting rich, soon." + +"I don't know about that," said Dick. "My bank-book's been stole." + +"Stolen!" echoed the cashier. "That's unfortunate. Not so bad as it +might be, though. The thief can't collect the money." + +"That's what I came to see about," said Dick. "I was afraid he might +have got it already." + +"He hasn't been here yet. Even if he had, I remember you, and should +have detected him. When was it taken?" + +"Yesterday," said Dick. "I missed it in the evenin' when I +got home." + +"Have you any suspicion as to the person who took it?" asked +the cashier. + +Dick thereupon told all he knew as to the general character and +suspicious conduct of Jim Travis, and the cashier agreed with him +that he was probably the thief. Dick also gave his reason for +thinking that he would visit the bank that morning, to withdraw +the funds. + +"Very good," said the cashier. "We'll be ready for him. What is the +number of your book?" + +"No. 5,678," said Dick. + +"Now give me a little description of this Travis whom you suspect." + +Dick accordingly furnished a brief outline sketch of Travis, not +particularly complimentary to the latter. + +"That will answer. I think I shall know him," said the cashier. "You +may depend upon it that he shall receive no money on your account." + +"Thank you," said Dick. + +Considerably relieved in mind, our hero turned towards the door, +thinking that there would be nothing gained by his remaining longer, +while he would of course lose time. + +He had just reached the doors, which were of glass, when through +them he perceived James Travis himself just crossing the street, and +apparently coming towards the bank. It would not do, of course, for +him to be seen. + +"Here he is," he exclaimed, hurrying back. "Can't you hide me +somewhere? I don't want to be seen." + +The cashier understood at once how the land lay. He quickly opened a +little door, and admitted Dick behind the counter. + +"Stoop down," he said, "so as not to be seen." + +Dick had hardly done so when Jim Travis opened the outer door, +and, looking about him in a little uncertainty, walked up to the +cashier's desk. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +TRAVIS IS ARRESTED + + +Jim Travis advanced into the bank with a doubtful step, knowing well +that he was on a dishonest errand, and heartily wishing that he +were well out of it. After a little hesitation, he approached the +paying-teller, and, exhibiting the bank-book, said, "I want to get +my money out." + +The bank-officer took the book, and, after looking at it a moment, +said, "How much do you want?" + +"The whole of it," said Travis. + +"You can draw out any part of it, but to draw out the whole requires +a week's notice." + +"Then I'll take a hundred dollars." + +"Are you the person to whom the book belongs?" + +"Yes, sir," said Travis, without hesitation. + +"Your name is--" + +"Hunter." + +The bank-clerk went to a large folio volume, containing the names of +depositors, and began to turn over the leaves. While he was doing +this, he managed to send out a young man connected with the bank for +a policeman. Travis did not perceive this, or did not suspect that +it had anything to do with himself. Not being used to savings banks, +he supposed the delay only what was usual. After a search, which was +only intended to gain time that a policeman might be summoned, the +cashier came back, and, sliding out a piece of paper to Travis, +said, "It will be necessary for you to write an order for the money." + +Travis took a pen, which he found on the ledge outside, and wrote +the order, signing his name "Dick Hunter," having observed that name +on the outside of the book. + +"Your name is Dick Hunter, then?" said the cashier, taking the +paper, and looking at the thief over his spectacles. + +"Yes," said Travis, promptly. + +"But," continued the cashier, "I find Hunter's age is put down on +the bank-book as fourteen. Surely you must be more than that." + +Travis would gladly have declared that he was only fourteen; but, +being in reality twenty-three, and possessing a luxuriant pair of +whiskers, this was not to be thought of. He began to feel uneasy. + +"Dick Hunter's my younger brother," he said. "I'm getting out the +money for him." + +"I thought you said your own name was Dick Hunter," said the cashier. + +"I said my name was Hunter," said Travis, ingeniously. "I didn't +understand you." + +"But you've signed the name of Dick Hunter to this order. How is +that?" questioned the troublesome cashier. + +Travis saw that he was getting himself into a tight place; but his +self-possession did not desert him. + +"I thought I must give my brother's name," he answered. + +"What is your own name?" + +"Henry Hunter." + +"Can you bring any one to testify that the statement you are +making is correct?" + +"Yes, a dozen if you like," said Travis, boldly. "Give me the book, +and I'll come back this afternoon. I didn't think there'd be such a +fuss about getting out a little money." + +"Wait a moment. Why don't your brother come himself?" + +"Because he's sick. He's down with the measles," said Travis. + +Here the cashier signed to Dick to rise and show himself. Our hero +accordingly did so. + +"You will be glad to find that he has recovered," said the cashier, +pointing to Dick. + +With an exclamation of anger and dismay, Travis, who saw the game +was up, started for the door, feeling that safety made such a course +prudent. But he was too late. He found himself confronted by a burly +policeman, who seized him by the arm, saying, "Not so fast, my man. +I want you." + +"Let me go," exclaimed Travis, struggling to free himself. + +"I'm sorry I can't oblige you," said the officer. "You'd better not +make a fuss, or I may have to hurt you a little." + +Travis sullenly resigned himself to his fate, darting a look of rage +at Dick, whom he considered the author of his present misfortune. + +"This is your book," said the cashier, handing back his rightful +property to our hero. "Do you wish to draw out any money?" + +"Two dollars," said Dick. + +"Very well. Write an order for the amount." + +Before doing so, Dick, who now that he saw Travis in the power of +the law began to pity him, went up to the officer, and said,-- + +"Won't you let him go? I've got my bank-book back, and I don't want +anything done to him." + +"Sorry I can't oblige you," said the officer; "but I'm not allowed +to do it. He'll have to stand his trial." + +"I'm sorry for you, Travis," said Dick. "I didn't want you arrested. +I only wanted my bank-book back." + +"Curse you!" said Travis, scowling vindictively. "Wait till I get +free. See if I don't fix you." + +"You needn't pity him too much," said the officer. "I know him now. +He's been to the Island before." + +"It's a lie," said Travis, violently. + +"Don't be too noisy, my friend," said the officer. "If you've got no +more business here, we'll be going." + +He withdrew with the prisoner in charge, and Dick, having drawn his +two dollars, left the bank. Notwithstanding the violent words the +prisoner had used towards himself, and his attempted robbery, he +could not help feeling sorry that he had been instrumental in +causing his arrest. + +"I'll keep my book a little safer hereafter," thought Dick. "Now I +must go and see Tom Wilkins." + +Before dismissing the subject of Travis and his theft, it may be +remarked that he was duly tried, and, his guilt being clear, was +sent to Blackwell's Island for nine months. At the end of that time, +on his release, he got a chance to work his passage on a ship to +San Francisco, where he probably arrived in due time. At any rate, +nothing more has been heard of him, and probably his threat of +vengence against Dick will never be carried into effect. + +Returning to the City Hall Park, Dick soon fell in with Tom Wilkins. + +"How are you, Tom?" he said. "How's your mother?" + +"She's better, Dick, thank you. She felt worried about bein' turned +out into the street; but I gave her that money from you, and now she +feels a good deal easier." + +"I've got some more for you, Tom," said Dick, producing a two-dollar +bill from his pocket. + +"I ought not to take it from you, Dick." + +"Oh, it's all right, Tom. Don't be afraid." + +"But you may need it yourself." + +"There's plenty more where that came from." + +"Any way, one dollar will be enough. With that we can pay the rent." + +"You'll want the other to buy something to eat." + +"You're very kind, Dick." + +"I'd ought to be. I've only got myself to take care of." + +"Well, I'll take it for my mother's sake. When you want anything +done just call on Tom Wilkins." + +"All right. Next week, if your mother doesn't get better, I'll give +you some more." + +Tom thanked our hero very gratefully, and Dick walked away, +feeling the self-approval which always accompanies a generous and +disinterested action. He was generous by nature, and, before +the period at which he is introduced to the reader's notice, he +frequently treated his friends to cigars and oyster-stews. Sometimes +he invited them to accompany him to the theatre at his expense. But +he never derived from these acts of liberality the same degree of +satisfaction as from this timely gift to Tom Wilkins. He felt that +his money was well bestowed, and would save an entire family from +privation and discomfort. Five dollars would, to be sure, make +something of a difference in the mount of his savings. It was more +than he was able to save up in a week. But Dick felt fully repaid +for what he had done, and he felt prepared to give as much more, +if Tom's mother should continue to be sick, and should appear to +him to need it. + +Besides all this, Dick felt a justifiable pride in his financial +ability to afford so handsome a gift. A year before, however much +he might have desired to give, it would have been quite out of his +power to give five dollars. His cash balance never reached that +amount. It was seldom, indeed, that it equalled one dollar. In +more ways than one Dick was beginning to reap the advantage of his +self-denial and judicious economy. + +It will be remembered that when Mr. Whitney at parting with Dick +presented him with five dollars, he told him that he might repay it +to some other boy who was struggling upward. Dick thought of this, +and it occurred to him that after all he was only paying up an old +debt. + +When Fosdick came home in the evening, Dick announced his success +in recovering his lost money, and described the manner it had been +brought about. + +"You're in luck," said Fosdick. "I guess we'd better not trust the +bureau-drawer again." + +"I mean to carry my book round with me," said Dick. + +"So shall I, as long as we stay at Mrs. Mooney's. I wish we were in +a better place." + +"I must go down and tell her she needn't expect Travis back. Poor +chap, I pity him!" + +Travis was never more seen in Mrs. Mooney's establishment. He was +owing that lady for a fortnight's rent of his room, which prevented +her feeling much compassion for him. The room was soon after let to +a more creditable tenant who proved a less troublesome neighbor than +his predecessor. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +DICK RECEIVES A LETTER + + +It was about a week after Dick's recovery of his bank-book, that +Fosdick brought home with him in the evening a copy of the "Daily +Sun." + +"Would you like to see your name in print, Dick?" he asked. + +"Yes," said Dick, who was busy at the wash-stand, endeavoring to +efface the marks which his day's work had left upon his hands. "They +haven't put me up for mayor, have they? 'Cause if they have, I +shan't accept. It would interfere too much with my private business." + +"No," said Fosdick, "they haven't put you up for office yet, though +that may happen sometime. But if you want to see your name in print, +here it is." + +Dick was rather incredulous, but, having dried his hands on the +towel, took the paper, and following the directions of Fosdick's +finger, observed in the list of advertised letters the name of +"RAGGED DICK." + +"By gracious, so it is," said he. "Do you s'pose it means me?" + +"I don't know of any other Ragged Dick,--do you?" + +"No," said Dick, reflectively; "it must be me. But I don't know of +anybody that would be likely to write to me." + +"Perhaps it is Frank Whitney," suggested Fosdick, after a little +reflection. "Didn't he promise to write to you?" + +"Yes," said Dick, "and he wanted me to write to him." + +"Where is he now?" + +"He was going to a boarding-school in Connecticut, he said. The name +of the town was Barnton." + +"Very likely the letter is from him." + +"I hope it is. Frank was a tip-top boy, and he was the first that +made me ashamed of bein' so ignorant and dirty." + +"You had better go to the post-office to-morrow morning, and ask for +the letter." + +"P'r'aps they won't give it to me." + +"Suppose you wear the old clothes you used to a year ago, when Frank +first saw you? They won't have any doubt of your being Ragged Dick +then." + +"I guess I will. I'll be sort of ashamed to be seen in 'em though," +said Dick, who had considerable more pride in a neat personal +appearance than when we were first introduced to him. + +"It will be only for one day, or one morning," said Fosdick. + +"I'd do more'n that for the sake of gettin' a letter from Frank. I'd +like to see him." + +The next morning, in accordance with the suggestion of Fosdick, Dick +arrayed himself in the long disused Washington coat and Napoleon +pants, which he had carefully preserved, for what reason he could +hardly explain. + +When fairly equipped, Dick surveyed himself in the mirror,--if the +little seven-by-nine-inch looking-glass, with which the room was +furnished, deserved the name. The result of the survey was not on +the whole a pleasing one. To tell the truth, Dick was quite ashamed +of his appearance, and, on opening the chamber-door, looked around +to see that the coast was clear, not being willing to have any of +his fellow-boarders see him in his present attire. + +He managed to slip out into the street unobserved, and, after +attending to two or three regular customers who came down-town +early in the morning, he made his way down Nassau Street to the +post-office. He passed along until he came to a compartment on +which he read ADVERTISED LETTERS, and, stepping up to the little +window, said,-- + +"There's a letter for me. I saw it advertised in the 'Sun' +yesterday." + +"What name?" demanded the clerk. + +"Ragged Dick," answered our hero. + +"That's a queer name," said the clerk, surveying him a little +curiously. "Are you Ragged Dick?" + +"If you don't believe me, look at my clo'es," said Dick. + +"That's pretty good proof, certainly," said the clerk, laughing. "If +that isn't your name, it deserves to be." + +"I believe in dressin' up to your name," said Dick. + +"Do you know any one in Barnton, Connecticut?" asked the clerk, who +had by this time found the letter. + +"Yes," said Dick. "I know a chap that's at boardin'-school there." + +"It appears to be in a boy's hand. I think it must be yours." + +The letter was handed to Dick through the window. He received it +eagerly, and drawing back so as not to be in the way of the throng +who were constantly applying for letters, or slipping them into the +boxes provided for them, hastily opened it, and began to read. As +the reader may be interested in the contents of the letter as well +as Dick, we transcribe it below. + +It was dated Barnton, Conn., and commenced thus,-- + + +"DEAR DICK,--You must excuse my addressing this letter to 'Ragged +Dick'; but the fact is, I don't know what your last name is, nor +where you live. I am afraid there is not much chance of your getting +this letter; but I hope you will. I have thought of you very often, +and wondered how you were getting along, and I should have written +to you before if I had known where to direct. + +"Let me tell you a little about myself. Barnton is a very +pretty country town, only about six miles from Hartford. The +boarding-school which I attend is under the charge of Ezekiel +Munroe, A.M. He is a man of about fifty, a graduate of Yale College, +and has always been a teacher. It is a large two-story house, with +an addition containing a good many small bed-chambers for the boys. +There are about twenty of us, and there is one assistant teacher who +teaches the English branches. Mr. Munroe, or Old Zeke, as we call +him behind his back, teaches Latin and Greek. I am studying both +these languages, because father wants me to go to college. + +"But you won't be interested in hearing about our studies. I will +tell you how we amuse ourselves. There are about fifty acres of land +belonging to Mr. Munroe; so that we have plenty of room for play. +About a quarter of a mile from the house there is a good-sized pond. +There is a large, round-bottomed boat, which is stout and strong. +Every Wednesday and Saturday afternoon, when the weather is good, we +go out rowing on the pond. Mr. Barton, the assistant teacher, goes +with us, to look after us. In the summer we are allowed to go in +bathing. In the winter there is splendid skating on the pond. + +"Besides this, we play ball a good deal, and we have various other +plays. So we have a pretty good time, although we study pretty hard +too. I am getting on very well in my studies. Father has not decided +yet where he will send me to college. + +"I wish you were here, Dick. I should enjoy your company, and +besides I should like to feel that you were getting an education. I +think you are naturally a pretty smart boy; but I suppose, as you +have to earn your own living, you don't get much chance to learn. I +only wish I had a few hundred dollars of my own. I would have you +come up here, and attend school with us. If I ever have a chance to +help you in any way, you may be sure that I will. + +"I shall have to wind up my letter now, as I have to hand in a +composition to-morrow, on the life and character of Washington. I +might say that I have a friend who wears a coat that once belonged +to the general. But I suppose that coat must be worn out by this +time. I don't much like writing compositions. I would a good deal +rather write letters. + +"I have written a longer letter than I meant to. I hope you will get +it, though I am afraid not. If you do, you must be sure to answer +it, as soon as possible. You needn't mind if your writing does look +like 'hens-tracks,' as you told me once. + +"Good-by, Dick. You must always think of me, as your very true +friend, + +"FRANK WHITNEY." + + +Dick read this letter with much satisfaction. It is always pleasant +to be remembered, and Dick had so few friends that it was more to +him than to boys who are better provided. Again, he felt a new sense +of importance in having a letter addressed to him. It was the first +letter he had ever received. If it had been sent to him a year +before, he would not have been able to read it. But now, thanks to +Fosdick's instructions, he could not only read writing, but he could +write a very good hand himself. + +There was one passage in the letter which pleased Dick. It was where +Frank said that if he had the money he would pay for his education +himself. + +"He's a tip-top feller," said Dick. "I wish I could see him ag'in." + +There were two reasons why Dick would like to have seen Frank. One +was, the natural pleasure he would have in meeting a friend; but he +felt also that he would like to have Frank witness the improvement +he had made in his studies and mode of life. + +"He'd find me a little more 'spectable than when he first saw me," +thought Dick. + +Dick had by this time got up to Printing House Square. Standing on +Spruce Street, near the "Tribune" office, was his old enemy, Micky +Maguire. + +It has already been said that Micky felt a natural enmity towards +those in his own condition in life who wore better clothes than +himself. For the last nine months, Dick's neat appearance had +excited the ire of the young Philistine. To appear in neat attire +and with a clean face Micky felt was a piece of presumption, and an +assumption of superiority on the part of our hero, and he termed it +"tryin' to be a swell." + +Now his astonished eyes rested on Dick in his ancient attire, which +was very similar to his own. It was a moment of triumph to him. He +felt that "pride had had a fall," and he could not forbear reminding +Dick of it. + +"Them's nice clo'es you've got on," said he, sarcastically, as Dick +came up. + +"Yes," said Dick, promptly. "I've been employin' your tailor. If my +face was only dirty we'd be taken for twin brothers." + +"So you've give up tryin' to be a swell?" + +"Only for this partic'lar occasion," said Dick. "I wanted to make a +fashionable call, so I put on my regimentals." + +"I don't b'lieve you've got any better clo'es," said Micky. + +"All right," said Dick, "I won't charge you nothin' for what you +believe." + +Here a customer presented himself for Micky, and Dick went back to +his room to change his clothes, before resuming business. + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +DICK WRITES HIS FIRST LETTER + + +When Fosdick reached home in the evening, Dick displayed his letter +with some pride. + +"It's a nice letter," said Fosdick, after reading it. "I should like +to know Frank." + +"I'll bet you would," said Dick. "He's a trump." + +"When are you going to answer it?" + +"I don't know," said Dick, dubiously. "I never writ a letter." + +"That's no reason why you shouldn't. There's always a first time, +you know." + +"I don't know what to say," said Dick. + +"Get some paper and sit down to it, and you'll find enough to say. +You can do that this evening instead of studying." + +"If you'll look it over afterwards, and shine it up a little." + +"Yes, if it needs it; but I rather think Frank would like it best +just as you wrote it." + +Dick decided to adopt Fosdick's suggestion. He had very serious +doubts as to his ability to write a letter. Like a good many other +boys, he looked upon it as a very serious job, not reflecting that, +after all, letter-writing is nothing but talking upon paper. Still, +in spite of his misgivings, he felt that the letter ought to be +answered, and he wished Frank to hear from him. After various +preparations, he at last got settled down to his task, and, before +the evening was over, a letter was written. As the first letter +which Dick had ever produced, and because it was characteristic +of him, my readers may like to read it. + +Here it is,-- + + +"DEAR FRANK,--I got your letter this mornin', and was very glad to +hear you hadn't forgotten Ragged Dick. I aint so ragged as I was. +Openwork coats and trowsers has gone out of fashion. I put on the +Washington coat and Napoleon pants to go to the post-office, for +fear they wouldn't think I was the boy that was meant. On my way +back I received the congratulations of my intimate friend, Micky +Maguire, on my improved appearance. + +"I've give up sleepin' in boxes, and old wagons, findin' it didn't +agree with my constitution. I've hired a room in Mott Street, and +have got a private tooter, who rooms with me and looks after my +studies in the evenin'. Mott Street aint very fashionable; but my +manshun on Fifth Avenoo isn't finished yet, and I'm afraid it won't +be till I'm a gray-haired veteran. I've got a hundred dollars +towards it, which I've saved up from my earnin's. I haven't forgot +what you and your uncle said to me, and I'm tryin' to grow up +'spectable. I haven't been to Tony Pastor's, or the Old Bowery, for +ever so long. I'd rather save up my money to support me in my old +age. When my hair gets gray, I'm goin' to knock off blackin' boots, +and go into some light, genteel employment, such as keepin' an +apple-stand, or disseminatin' pea-nuts among the people. + +"I've got so as to read pretty well, so my tooter says. I've been +studyin' geography and grammar also. I've made such astonishin' +progress that I can tell a noun from a conjunction as far away as +I can see 'em. Tell Mr. Munroe that if he wants an accomplished +teacher in his school, he can send for me, and I'll come on by the +very next train. Or, if he wants to sell out for a hundred dollars, +I'll buy the whole concern, and agree to teach the scholars all I +know myself in less than six months. Is teachin' as good business, +generally speakin', as blackin' boots? My private tooter combines +both, and is makin' a fortun' with great rapidity. He'll be as rich +as Astor some time, _if he only lives long enough._ + +"I should think you'd have a bully time at your school. I should +like to go out in the boat, or play ball with you. When are you +comin' to the city? I wish you'd write and let me know when you do, +and I'll call and see you. I'll leave my business in the hands of my +numerous clerks, and go round with you. There's lots of things you +didn't see when you was here before. They're getting on fast at the +Central Park. It looks better than it did a year ago. + +"I aint much used to writin' letters. As this is the first one I +ever wrote, I hope you'll excuse the mistakes. I hope you'll write +to me again soon. I can't write so good a letter as you; but, I'll +do my best, as the man said when he was asked if he could swim over +to Brooklyn backwards. Good-by, Frank. Thank you for all your +kindness. Direct your next letter to No. -- Mott Street. + + "Your true friend, + "DICK HUNTER." + + +When Dick had written the last word, he leaned back in his chair, +and surveyed the letter with much satisfaction. + +"I didn't think I could have wrote such a long letter, Fosdick," +said he. + +"Written would be more grammatical, Dick," suggested his friend. + +"I guess there's plenty of mistakes in it," said Dick. "Just look at +it, and see." + +Fosdick took the letter, and read it over carefully. + +"Yes, there are some mistakes," he said; "but it sounds so much like +you that I think it would be better to let it go just as it is. It +will be more likely to remind Frank of what you were when he first +saw you." + +"Is it good enough to send?" asked Dick, anxiously. + +"Yes; it seems to me to be quite a good letter. It is written just +as you talk. Nobody but you could have written such a letter, Dick. +I think Frank will be amused at your proposal to come up there as +teacher." + +"P'r'aps it would be a good idea for us to open a seleck school here +in Mott Street," said Dick, humorously. "We could call it 'Professor +Fosdick and Hunter's Mott Street Seminary.' Boot-blackin' taught by +Professor Hunter." + +The evening was so far advanced that Dick decided to postpone +copying his letter till the next evening. By this time he had come +to have a very fair handwriting, so that when the letter was +complete it really looked quite creditable, and no one would have +suspected that it was Dick's first attempt in this line. Our hero +surveyed it with no little complacency. In fact, he felt rather +proud of it, since it reminded him of the great progress he had +made. He carried it down to the post-office, and deposited it with +his own hands in the proper box. Just on the steps of the building, +as he was coming out, he met Johnny Nolan, who had been sent on an +errand to Wall Street by some gentleman, and was just returning. + +"What are you doin' down here, Dick?" asked Johnny. + +"I've been mailin' a letter." + +"Who sent you?" + +"Nobody." + +"I mean, who writ the letter?" + +"I wrote it myself." + +"Can you write letters?" asked Johnny, in amazement. + +"Why shouldn't I?" + +"I didn't know you could write. I can't." + +"Then you ought to learn." + +"I went to school once; but it was too hard work, so I give it up." + +"You're lazy, Johnny,--that's what's the matter. How'd you ever +expect to know anything, if you don't try?" + +"I can't learn." + +"You can, if you want to." + +Johnny Nolan was evidently of a different opinion. He was a +good-natured boy, large of his age, with nothing particularly bad +about him, but utterly lacking in that energy, ambition, and natural +sharpness, for which Dick was distinguished. He was not adapted to +succeed in the life which circumstances had forced upon him; for in +the street-life of the metropolis a boy needs to be on the alert, +and have all his wits about him, or he will find himself wholly +distanced by his more enterprising competitors for popular favor. To +succeed in his profession, humble as it is, a boot-black must depend +upon the same qualities which gain success in higher walks in +life. It was easy to see that Johnny, unless very much favored by +circumstances, would never rise much above his present level. For +Dick, we cannot help hoping much better things. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +AN EXCITING ADVENTURE + + +Dick now began to look about for a position in a store or +counting-room. Until he should obtain one he determined to devote +half the day to blacking boots, not being willing to break in upon +his small capital. He found that he could earn enough in half a day +to pay all his necessary expenses, including the entire rent of the +room. Fosdick desired to pay his half; but Dick steadily refused, +insisting upon paying so much as compensation for his friend's +services as instructor. + +It should be added that Dick's peculiar way of speaking and use of +slang terms had been somewhat modified by his education and his +intimacy with Henry Fosdick. Still he continued to indulge in them +to some extent, especially when he felt like joking, and it was +natural to Dick to joke, as my readers have probably found out by +this time. Still his manners were considerably improved, so that he +was more likely to obtain a situation than when first introduced +to our notice. + +Just now, however, business was very dull, and merchants, instead of +hiring new assistants, were disposed to part with those already in +their employ. After making several ineffectual applications, Dick +began to think he should be obliged to stick to his profession until +the next season. But about this time something occurred which +considerably improved his chances of preferment. + +This is the way it happened. + +As Dick, with a balance of more than a hundred dollars in the +savings bank, might fairly consider himself a young man of property, +he thought himself justified in occasionally taking a half holiday +from business, and going on an excursion. On Wednesday afternoon +Henry Fosdick was sent by his employer on an errand to that part of +Brooklyn near Greenwood Cemetery. Dick hastily dressed himself in +his best, and determined to accompany him. + +The two boys walked down to the South Ferry, and, paying their two +cents each, entered the ferry boat. They remained at the stern, and +stood by the railing, watching the great city, with its crowded +wharves, receding from view. Beside them was a gentleman with two +children,--a girl of eight and a little boy of six. The children +were talking gayly to their father. While he was pointing out some +object of interest to the little girl, the boy managed to creep, +unobserved, beneath the chain that extends across the boat, for the +protection of passengers, and, stepping incautiously to the edge +of the boat, fell over into the foaming water. + +At the child's scream, the father looked up, and, with a cry of +horror, sprang to the edge of the boat. He would have plunged in, +but, being unable to swim, would only have endangered his own life, +without being able to save his child. + +"My child!" he exclaimed in anguish,--"who will save my child? A +thousand--ten thousand dollars to any one who will save him!" + +There chanced to be but few passengers on board at the time, and +nearly all these were either in the cabins or standing forward. +Among the few who saw the child fall was our hero. + +Now Dick was an expert swimmer. It was an accomplishment which he +had possessed for years, and he no sooner saw the boy fall than he +resolved to rescue him. His determination was formed before he heard +the liberal offer made by the boy's father. Indeed, I must do Dick +the justice to say that, in the excitement of the moment, he did not +hear it at all, nor would it have stimulated the alacrity with which +he sprang to the rescue of the little boy. + +Little Johnny had already risen once, and gone under for the second +time, when our hero plunged in. He was obliged to strike out for +the boy, and this took time. He reached him none too soon. Just as +he was sinking for the third and last time, he caught him by the +jacket. Dick was stout and strong, but Johnny clung to him so +tightly, that it was with great difficulty he was able to sustain +himself. + +"Put your arms round my neck," said Dick. + +The little boy mechanically obeyed, and clung with a grasp +strengthened by his terror. In this position Dick could bear his +weight better. But the ferry-boat was receding fast. It was quite +impossible to reach it. The father, his face pale with terror and +anguish, and his hands clasped in suspense, saw the brave boy's +struggles, and prayed with agonizing fervor that he might be +successful. But it is probable, for they were now midway of the +river, that both Dick and the little boy whom he had bravely +undertaken to rescue would have been drowned, had not a row-boat +been fortunately near. The two men who were in it witnessed the +accident, and hastened to the rescue of our hero. + +"Keep up a little longer," they shouted, bending to their oars, +"and we will save you." + +Dick heard the shout, and it put fresh strength into him. He battled +manfully with the treacherous sea, his eyes fixed longingly upon the +approaching boat. + +"Hold on tight, little boy," he said. "There's a boat coming." + +The little boy did not see the boat. His eyes were closed to shut +out the fearful water, but he clung the closer to his young +preserver. Six long, steady strokes, and the boat dashed along side. +Strong hands seized Dick and his youthful burden, and drew them into +the boat, both dripping with water. + +"God be thanked!" exclaimed the father, as from the steamer he saw +the child's rescue. "That brave boy shall be rewarded, if I +sacrifice my whole fortune to compass it." + +"You've had a pretty narrow escape, young chap," said one of the +boatmen to Dick. "It was a pretty tough job you undertook." + +"Yes," said Dick. "That's what I thought when I was in the water. If +it hadn't been for you, I don't know what would have 'come of us." + +"Anyhow you're a plucky boy, or you wouldn't have dared to jump into +the water after this little chap. It was a risky thing to do." + +"I'm used to the water," said Dick, modestly. "I didn't stop to +think of the danger, but I wasn't going to see that little fellow +drown without tryin' to save him." + +The boat at once headed for the ferry wharf on the Brooklyn side. +The captain of the ferry-boat, seeing the rescue, did not think +it necessary to stop his boat, but kept on his way. The whole +occurrence took place in less time than I have occupied in +telling it. + +The father was waiting on the wharf to receive his little boy, with +what feelings of gratitude and joy can be easily understood. With a +burst of happy tears he clasped him to his arms. Dick was about to +withdraw modestly, but the gentleman perceived the movement, and, +putting down the child, came forward, and, clasping his hand, said +with emotion, "My brave boy, I owe you a debt I can never repay. +But for your timely service I should now be plunged into an anguish +which I cannot think of without a shudder." + +Our hero was ready enough to speak on most occasions, but always +felt awkward when he was praised. + +"It wasn't any trouble," he said, modestly. "I can swim like a top." + +"But not many boys would have risked their lives for a stranger," +said the gentleman. "But," he added with a sudden thought, as his +glance rested on Dick's dripping garments, "both you and my little +boy will take cold in wet clothes. Fortunately I have a friend +living close at hand, at whose house you will have an opportunity +of taking off your clothes, and having them dried." + +Dick protested that he never took cold; but Fosdick, who had now +joined them, and who, it is needless to say, had been greatly +alarmed at Dick's danger, joined in urging compliance with the +gentleman's proposal, and in the end our hero had to yield. His +new friend secured a hack, the driver of which agreed for extra +recompense to receive the dripping boys into his carriage, and they +were whirled rapidly to a pleasant house in a side street, where +matters were quickly explained, and both boys were put to bed. + +"I aint used to goin' to bed quite so early," thought Dick. "This is +the queerest excursion I ever took." + +Like most active boys Dick did not enjoy the prospect of spending +half a day in bed; but his confinement did not last as long as he +anticipated. + +In about an hour the door of his chamber was opened, and a servant +appeared, bringing a new and handsome suit of clothes throughout. + +"You are to put on these," said the servant to Dick; "but you +needn't get up till you feel like it." + +"Whose clothes are they?" asked Dick. + +"They are yours." + +"Mine! Where did they come from?" + +"Mr. Rockwell sent out and bought them for you. They are the +same size as your wet ones." + +"Is he here now?" + +"No. He bought another suit for the little boy, and has gone back to +New York. Here's a note he asked me to give you." + +Dick opened the paper, and read as follows,-- + + +"Please accept this outfit of clothes as the first instalment of +a debt which I can never repay. I have asked to have your wet suit +dried, when you can reclaim it. Will you oblige me by calling +to-morrow at my counting room, No. --, Pearl Street. + + "Your friend, + "JAMES ROCKWELL." + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +CONCLUSION + + +When Dick was dressed in his new suit, he surveyed his figure with +pardonable complacency. It was the best he had ever worn, and fitted +him as well as if it had been made expressly for him. + +"He's done the handsome thing," said Dick to himself; "but there +wasn't no 'casion for his givin' me these clothes. My lucky stars +are shinin' pretty bright now. Jumpin' into the water pays better +than shinin' boots; but I don't think I'd like to try it more'n once +a week." + +About eleven o'clock the next morning Dick repaired to Mr. +Rockwell's counting-room on Pearl Street. He found himself in front +of a large and handsome warehouse. The counting-room was on the +lower floor. Our hero entered, and found Mr. Rockwell sitting at a +desk. No sooner did that gentleman see him than he arose, and, +advancing, shook Dick by the hand in the most friendly manner. + +"My young friend," he said, "you have done me so great service that +I wish to be of some service to you in return. Tell me about +yourself, and what plans or wishes you have formed for the future." + +Dick frankly related his past history, and told Mr. Rockwell of his +desire to get into a store or counting-room, and of the failure of +all his applications thus far. The merchant listened attentively to +Dick's statement, and, when he had finished, placed a sheet of paper +before him, and, handing him a pen, said, "Will you write your name +on this piece of paper?" + +Dick wrote in a free, bold hand, the name Richard Hunter. He had +very much improved in his penmanship, as has already been mentioned, +and now had no cause to be ashamed of it. + +Mr. Rockwell surveyed it approvingly. + +"How would you like to enter my counting-room as clerk, Richard?" he +asked. + +Dick was about to say "Bully," when he recollected himself, and +answered, "Very much." + +"I suppose you know something of arithmetic, do you not?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Then you may consider yourself engaged at a salary of ten dollars a +week. You may come next Monday morning." + +"Ten dollars!" repeated Dick, thinking he must have misunderstood. + +"Yes; will that be sufficient?" + +"It's more than I can earn," said Dick, honestly. + +"Perhaps it is at first," said Mr. Rockwell, smiling; "but I am +willing to pay you that. I will besides advance you as fast as your +progress will justify it." + +Dick was so elated that he hardly restrained himself from some +demonstration which would have astonished the merchant; but he +exercised self-control, and only said, "I'll try to serve you so +faithfully, sir, that you won't repent having taken me into your +service." + +"And I think you will succeed," said Mr. Rockwell, encouragingly. "I +will not detain you any longer, for I have some important business +to attend to. I shall expect to see you on Monday morning." + +Dick left the counting-room, hardly knowing whether he stood on his +head or his heels, so overjoyed was he at the sudden change in his +fortunes. Ten dollars a week was to him a fortune, and three times +as much as he had expected to obtain at first. Indeed he would have +been glad, only the day before, to get a place at three dollars a +week. He reflected that with the stock of clothes which he had now +on hand, he could save up at least half of it, and even then live +better than he had been accustomed to do; so that his little fund in +the savings bank, instead of being diminished, would be steadily +increasing. Then he was to be advanced if he deserved it. It was +indeed a bright prospect for a boy who, only a year before, could +neither read nor write, and depended for a night's lodging upon +the chance hospitality of an alley-way or old wagon. Dick's great +ambition to "grow up 'spectable" seemed likely to be accomplished +after all. + +"I wish Fosdick was as well off as I am," he thought generously. But +he determined to help his less fortunate friend, and assist him up +the ladder as he advanced himself. + +When Dick entered his room on Mott Street, he discovered that some +one else had been there before him, and two articles of wearing +apparel had disappeared. + +"By gracious!" he exclaimed; "somebody's stole my Washington coat +and Napoleon pants. Maybe it's an agent of Barnum's, who expects to +make a fortun' by exhibitin' the valooable wardrobe of a gentleman +of fashion." + +Dick did not shed many tears over his loss, as, in his present +circumstances, he never expected to have any further use for the +well-worn garments. It may be stated that he afterwards saw them +adorning the figure of Micky Maguire; but whether that estimable +young man stole them himself, he never ascertained. As to the loss, +Dick was rather pleased that it had occurred. It seemed to cut him +off from the old vagabond life which he hoped never to resume. +Henceforward he meant to press onward, and rise as high as possible. + +Although it was yet only noon, Dick did not go out again with his +brush. He felt that it was time to retire from business. He would +leave his share of the public patronage to other boys less fortunate +than himself. That evening Dick and Fosdick had a long conversation. +Fosdick rejoiced heartily in his friend's success, and on his side +had the pleasant news to communicate that his pay had been advanced +to six dollars a week. + +"I think we can afford to leave Mott Street now," he continued. +"This house isn't as neat as it might be, and I shall like to live +in a nicer quarter of the city." + +"All right," said Dick. "We'll hunt up a new room to-morrow. I shall +have plenty of time, having retired from business. I'll try to get +my reg'lar customers to take Johnny Nolan in my place. That boy +hasn't any enterprise. He needs some body to look out for him." + +"You might give him your box and brush, too, Dick." + +"No," said Dick; "I'll give him some new ones, but mine I want +to keep, to remind me of the hard times I've had, when I was an +ignorant boot-black, and never expected to be anything better." + +"When, in short, you were 'Ragged Dick.' You must drop that name, +and think of yourself now as"-- + +"Richard Hunter, Esq.," said our hero, smiling. + +"A young gentleman on the way to fame and fortune," added Fosdick. + + + ------- + + +Here ends the story of Ragged Dick. As Fosdick said, he is Ragged Dick +no longer. He has taken a step upward, and is determined to mount still +higher. There are fresh adventures in store for him, and for others who +have been introduced in these pages. Those who have felt interested in +his early life will find his history continued in a new volume, forming +the second of the series, to be called,-- + +FAME AND FORTUNE; + +OR, + +THE PROGRESS OF RICHARD HUNTER. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ragged Dick, by Horatio Alger + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAGGED DICK *** + +***** This file should be named 5348.txt or 5348.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/4/5348/ + +Digitized by Cardinalis Etext Press [C.E.K.] +Prepared for Project Gutenberg by Andrew Sly + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Ragged Dick + Street Life in New York with the Boot-Blacks + +Author: Horatio Alger + +Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5348] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on July 4, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAGGED DICK *** + + + + +Digitized by Cardinalis Etext Press [C.E.K.] +Prepared for Project Gutenberg by Andrew Sly + + + + + +RAGGED DICK; + +OR, + +STREET LIFE IN NEW YORK WITH THE BOOT-BLACKS. + +BY HORATIO ALGER JR. + + + + To Joseph W. Allen, + at whose suggestion this story was undertaken, + it is inscribed with friendly regard. + + + +PREFACE + + +"Ragged Dick" was contributed as a serial story to the pages of the +Schoolmate, a well-known juvenile magazine, during the year 1867. +While in course of publication, it was received with so many +evidences of favor that it has been rewritten and considerably +enlarged, and is now presented to the public as the first volume +of a series intended to illustrate the life and experiences of the +friendless and vagrant children who are now numbered by thousands +in New York and other cities. + +Several characters in the story are sketched from life. The +necessary information has been gathered mainly from personal +observation and conversations with the boys themselves. The author +is indebted also to the excellent Superintendent of the Newsboys' +Lodging House, in Fulton Street, for some facts of which he has been +able to make use. Some anachronisms may be noted. Wherever they +occur, they have been admitted, as aiding in the development of the +story, and will probably be considered as of little importance in +an unpretending volume, which does not aspire to strict historical +accuracy. + +The author hopes that, while the volumes in this series may prove +interesting stories, they may also have the effect of enlisting the +sympathies of his readers in behalf of the unfortunate children whose +life is described, and of leading them to co-operate with the +praiseworthy efforts now making by the Children's Aid Society and +other organizations to ameliorate their condition. + +New York, April, 1868 + + + +CHAPTER I + +RAGGED DICK IS INTRODUCED TO THE READER + + +"Wake up there, youngster," said a rough voice. + +Ragged Dick opened his eyes slowly, and stared stupidly in the face +of the speaker, but did not offer to get up. + +"Wake up, you young vagabond!" said the man a little impatiently; +"I suppose you'd lay there all day, if I hadn't called you." + +"What time is it?" asked Dick. + +"Seven o'clock." + +"Seven o'clock! I oughter've been up an hour ago. I know what 'twas +made me so precious sleepy. I went to the Old Bowery last night, and +didn't turn in till past twelve." + +"You went to the Old Bowery? Where'd you get your money?" asked the +man, who was a porter in the employ of a firm doing business on +Spruce Street. "Made it by shines, in course. My guardian don't +allow me no money for theatres, so I have to earn it." + +"Some boys get it easier than that," said the porter significantly. + +"You don't catch me stealin', if that's what you mean," said Dick. + +"Don't you ever steal, then?" + +"No, and I wouldn't. Lots of boys does it, but I wouldn't." + +"Well, I'm glad to hear you say that. I believe there's some +good in you, Dick, after all." + +"Oh, I'm a rough customer!" said Dick. "But I wouldn't steal. +It's mean." + +"I'm glad you think so, Dick," and the rough voice sounded gentler +than at first. "Have you got any money to buy your breakfast?" + +"No, but I'll soon get some." + +While this conversation had been going on, Dick had got up. His +bedchamber had been a wooden box half full of straw, on which the +young boot-black had reposed his weary limbs, and slept as soundly +as if it had been a bed of down. He dumped down into the straw +without taking the trouble of undressing. + +Getting up too was an equally short process. He jumped out of the +box, shook himself, picked out one or two straws that had found +their way into rents in his clothes, and, drawing a well-worn cap +over his uncombed locks, he was all ready for the business of the +day. + +Dick's appearance as he stood beside the box was rather peculiar. +His pants were torn in several places, and had apparently belonged +in the first instance to a boy two sizes larger than himself. He +wore a vest, all the buttons of which were gone except two, out of +which peeped a shirt which looked as if it had been worn a month. +To complete his costume he wore a coat too long for him, dating +back, if one might judge from its general appearance, to a remote +antiquity. + +Washing the face and hands is usually considered proper in +commencing the day, but Dick was above such refinement. He had no +particular dislike to dirt, and did not think it necessary to remove +several dark streaks on his face and hands. But in spite of his dirt +and rags there was something about Dick that was attractive. It was +easy to see that if he had been clean and well dressed he would +have been decidedly good-looking. Some of his companions were sly, +and their faces inspired distrust; but Dick had a frank, +straight-forward manner that made him a favorite. + +Dick's business hours had commenced. He had no office to open. His +little blacking-box was ready for use, and he looked sharply in +the faces of all who passed, addressing each with, "Shine yer +boots, sir?" + +"How much?" asked a gentleman on his way to his office. + +"Ten cents," said Dick, dropping his box, and sinking upon his knees +on the sidewalk, flourishing his brush with the air of one skilled +in his profession. + +"Ten cents! Isn't that a little steep?" + +"Well, you know 'taint all clear profit," said Dick, who had already +set to work. "There's the _blacking_ costs something, and I have to +get a new brush pretty often." + +"And you have a large rent too," said the gentleman quizzically, +with a glance at a large hole in Dick's coat. + +"Yes, sir," said Dick, always ready to joke; "I have to pay such a +big rent for my manshun up on Fifth Avenoo, that I can't afford to +take less than ten cents a shine. I'll give you a bully shine, sir." + +"Be quick about it, for I am in a hurry. So your house is on Fifth +Avenue, is it?" + +"It isn't anywhere else," said Dick, and Dick spoke the truth there. + +"What tailor do you patronize?" asked the gentleman, +surveying Dick's attire. + +"Would you like to go to the same one?" asked Dick, shrewdly. + +"Well, no; it strikes me that he didn't give you a very good fit." + +"This coat once belonged to General Washington," said Dick, +comically. "He wore it all through the Revolution, and it got torn +some, 'cause he fit so hard. When he died he told his widder to give +it to some smart young feller that hadn't got none of his own; so +she gave it to me. But if you'd like it, sir, to remember General +Washington by, I'll let you have it reasonable." + +"Thank you, but I wouldn't want to deprive you of it. And did your +pants come from General Washington too?" + +"No, they was a gift from Lewis Napoleon. Lewis had outgrown 'em +and sent 'em to me,--he's bigger than me, and that's why they +don't fit." + +"It seems you have distinguished friends. Now, my lad, I suppose you +would like your money." + +"I shouldn't have any objection," said Dick. + +"I believe," said the gentleman, examining his pocket-book, "I +haven't got anything short of twenty-five cents. Have you got +any change?" + +"Not a cent," said Dick. "All my money's invested in the Erie +Railroad." + +"That's unfortunate." + +"Shall I get the money changed, sir?" + +"I can't wait; I've got to meet an appointment immediately. I'll +hand you twenty-five cents, and you can leave the change at my +office any time during the day." + +"All right, sir. Where is it?" + +"No. 125 Fulton Street. Shall you remember?" + +"Yes, sir. What name?" + +"Greyson,--office on second floor." + +"All right, sir; I'll bring it." + +"I wonder whether the little scamp will prove honest," said Mr. +Greyson to himself, as he walked away. "If he does, I'll give him +my custom regularly. If he don't as is most likely, I shan't mind +the loss of fifteen cents." + +Mr. Greyson didn't understand Dick. Our ragged hero wasn't a model +boy in all respects. I am afraid he swore sometimes, and now and +then he played tricks upon unsophisticated boys from the country, +or gave a wrong direction to honest old gentlemen unused to the +city. A clergyman in search of the Cooper Institute he once directed +to the Tombs Prison, and, following him unobserved, was highly +delighted when the unsuspicious stranger walked up the front steps +of the great stone building on Centre Street, and tried to obtain +admission. + +"I guess he wouldn't want to stay long if he did get in," thought +Ragged Dick, hitching up his pants. "Leastways I shouldn't. They're +so precious glad to see you that they won't let you go, but board +you gratooitous, and never send in no bills." + +Another of Dick's faults was his extravagance. Being always +wide-awake and ready for business, he earned enough to have +supported him comfortably and respectably. There were not a few +young clerks who employed Dick from time to time in his professional +capacity, who scarcely earned as much as he, greatly as their style +and dress exceeded his. But Dick was careless of his earnings. Where +they went he could hardly have told himself. However much he managed +to earn during the day, all was generally spent before morning. He +was fond of going to the Old Bowery Theatre, and to Tony Pastor's, +and if he had any money left afterwards, he would invite some of +his friends in somewhere to have an oyster-stew; so it seldom +happened that he commenced the day with a penny. + +Then I am sorry to add that Dick had formed the habit of smoking. +This cost him considerable, for Dick was rather fastidious about his +cigars, and wouldn't smoke the cheapest. Besides, having a liberal +nature, he was generally ready to treat his companions. But of +course the expense was the smallest objection. No boy of fourteen +can smoke without being affected injuriously. Men are frequently +injured by smoking, and boys always. But large numbers of the +newsboys and boot-blacks form the habit. Exposed to the cold and wet +they find that it warms them up, and the self-indulgence grows upon +them. It is not uncommon to see a little boy, too young to be out +of his mother's sight, smoking with all the apparent satisfaction +of a veteran smoker. + +There was another way in which Dick sometimes lost money. There was +a noted gambling-house on Baxter Street, which in the evening was +sometimes crowded with these juvenile gamesters, who staked their +hard earnings, generally losing of course, and refreshing themselves +from time to time with a vile mixture of liquor at two cents a +glass. Sometimes Dick strayed in here, and played with the rest. + +I have mentioned Dick's faults and defects, because I want it +understood, to begin with, that I don't consider him a model boy. +But there were some good points about him nevertheless. He was above +doing anything mean or dishonorable. He would not steal, or cheat, +or impose upon younger boys, but was frank and straight-forward, +manly and self-reliant. His nature was a noble one, and had saved +him from all mean faults. I hope my young readers will like him as +I do, without being blind to his faults. Perhaps, although he was +only a boot-black, they may find something in him to imitate. + +And now, having fairly introduced Ragged Dick to my young readers, +I must refer them to the next chapter for his further adventures. + + + +CHAPTER II + +JOHNNY NOLAN + + +After Dick had finished polishing Mr. Greyson's boots he was +fortunate enough to secure three other customers, two of them +reporters in the Tribune establishment, which occupies the corner +of Spruce Street and Printing House Square. + +When Dick had got through with his last customer the City Hall clock +indicated eight o'clock. He had been up an hour, and hard at work, +and naturally began to think of breakfast. He went up to the head +of Spruce Street, and turned into Nassau. Two blocks further, and he +reached Ann Street. On this street was a small, cheap restaurant, +where for five cents Dick could get a cup of coffee, and for ten +cents more, a plate of beefsteak with a plate of bread thrown in. +These Dick ordered, and sat down at a table. + +It was a small apartment with a few plain tables unprovided with +cloths, for the class of customers who patronized it were not very +particular. Our hero's breakfast was soon before him. Neither the +coffee nor the steak were as good as can be bought at Delmonico's; +but then it is very doubtful whether, in the present state of his +wardrobe, Dick would have been received at that aristocratic +restaurant, even if his means had admitted of paying the high +prices there charged. + +Dick had scarcely been served when he espied a boy about his own +size standing at the door, looking wistfully into the restaurant. +This was Johnny Nolan, a boy of fourteen, who was engaged in the +same profession as Ragged Dick. His wardrobe was in very much the +same condition as Dick's. + +"Had your breakfast, Johnny?" inquired Dick, cutting off a piece of +steak. + +"No." + +"Come in, then. Here's room for you." + +"I aint got no money," said Johnny, looking a little enviously at +his more fortunate friend. + +"Haven't you had any shines?" + +"Yes, I had one, but I shan't get any pay till to-morrow." + +"Are you hungry?" + +"Try me, and see." + +"Come in. I'll stand treat this morning." + +Johnny Nolan was nowise slow to accept this invitation, and was soon +seated beside Dick. + +"What'll you have, Johnny?" + +"Same as you." + +"Cup o' coffee and beefsteak," ordered Dick. + +These were promptly brought, and Johnny attacked them vigorously. + +Now, in the boot-blacking business, as well as in higher avocations, +the same rule prevails, that energy and industry are rewarded, and +indolence suffers. Dick was energetic and on the alert for business, +but Johnny the reverse. The consequence was that Dick earned +probably three times as much as the other. + +"How do you like it?" asked Dick, surveying Johnny's attacks upon +the steak with evident complacency. + +"It's hunky." + +I don't believe "hunky" is to be found in either Webster's or +Worcester's big dictionary; but boys will readily understand what +it means. + +"Do you come here often?" asked Johnny. + +"Most every day. You'd better come too." + +"I can't afford it." + +"Well, you'd ought to, then," said Dick. "What do you do I'd +like to know?" + +"I don't get near as much as you, Dick." + +"Well you might if you tried. I keep my eyes open,--that's the way +I get jobs. You're lazy, that's what's the matter." + +Johnny did not see fit to reply to this charge. Probably he felt the +justice of it, and preferred to proceed with the breakfast, which he +enjoyed the more as it cost him nothing. + +Breakfast over, Dick walked up to the desk, and settled the bill. +Then, followed by Johnny, he went out into the street. + +"Where are you going, Johnny?" + +"Up to Mr. Taylor's, on Spruce Street, to see if he don't want a +shine." + +"Do you work for him reg'lar?" + +"Yes. Him and his partner wants a shine most every day. Where are +you goin'?" + +"Down front of the Astor House. I guess I'll find some customers +there." + +At this moment Johnny started, and, dodging into an entry way, hid +behind the door, considerably to Dick's surprise. + +"What's the matter now?" asked our hero. + +"Has he gone?" asked Johnny, his voice betraying anxiety. + +"Who gone, I'd like to know?" + +"That man in the brown coat." + +"What of him. You aint scared of him, are you?" + +"Yes, he got me a place once." + +"Where?" + +"Ever so far off." + +"What if he did?" + +"I ran away." + +"Didn't you like it?" + +"No, I had to get up too early. It was on a farm, and I had to get +up at five to take care of the cows. I like New York best." + +"Didn't they give you enough to eat?" + +"Oh, yes, plenty." + +"And you had a good bed?" + +"Yes." + +"Then you'd better have stayed. You don't get either of them here. +Where'd you sleep last night?" + +"Up an alley in an old wagon." + +"You had a better bed than that in the country, didn't you?" + +"Yes, it was as soft as--as cotton." + +Johnny had once slept on a bale of cotton, the recollection +supplying him with a comparison. + +"Why didn't you stay?" + +"I felt lonely," said Johnny. + +Johnny could not exactly explain his feelings, but it is often the +case that the young vagabond of the streets, though his food is +uncertain, and his bed may be any old wagon or barrel that he is +lucky enough to find unoccupied when night sets in, gets so attached +to his precarious but independent mode of life, that he feels +discontented in any other. He is accustomed to the noise and bustle +and ever-varied life of the streets, and in the quiet scenes of the +country misses the excitement in the midst of which he has always +dwelt. + +Johnny had but one tie to bind him to the city. He had a father +living, but he might as well have been without one. Mr. Nolan was +a confirmed drunkard, and spent the greater part of his wages for +liquor. His potations made him ugly, and inflamed a temper never +very sweet, working him up sometimes to such a pitch of rage that +Johnny's life was in danger. Some months before, he had thrown a +flat-iron at his son's head with such terrific force that unless +Johnny had dodged he would not have lived long enough to obtain a +place in our story. He fled the house, and from that time had not +dared to re-enter it. Somebody had given him a brush and box of +blacking, and he had set up in business on his own account. But he +had not energy enough to succeed, as has already been stated, and +I am afraid the poor boy had met with many hardships, and suffered +more than once from cold and hunger. Dick had befriended him more +than once, and often given him a breakfast or dinner, as the case +might be. + +"How'd you get away?" asked Dick, with some curiosity. "Did +you walk?" + +"No, I rode on the cars." + +"Where'd you get your money? I hope you didn't steal it." + +"I didn't have none." + +"What did you do, then?" + +"I got up about three o'clock, and walked to Albany." + +"Where's that?" asked Dick, whose ideas on the subject of geography +were rather vague. + +"Up the river." + +"How far?" + +"About a thousand miles," said Johnny, whose conceptions of distance +were equally vague. + +"Go ahead. What did you do then?" + +"I hid on top of a freight car, and came all the way without their +seeing me.* That man in the brown coat was the man that got me the +place, and I'm afraid he'd want to send me back." + +* A fact. + + +"Well," said Dick, reflectively, "I dunno as I'd like to live in the +country. I couldn't go to Tony Pastor's or the Old Bowery. There +wouldn't be no place to spend my evenings. But I say, it's tough in +winter, Johnny, 'specially when your overcoat's at the tailor's, an' +likely to stay there." + +"That's so, Dick. But I must be goin', or Mr. Taylor'll get somebody +else to shine his boots." + +Johnny walked back to Nassau Street, while Dick kept on his way to +Broadway. + +"That boy," soliloquized Dick, as Johnny took his departure, "aint +got no ambition. I'll bet he won't get five shines to-day. I'm glad +I aint like him. I couldn't go to the theatre, nor buy no cigars, +nor get half as much as I wanted to eat.--Shine yer boots, sir?" + +Dick always had an eye to business, and this remark was addressed to +a young man, dressed in a stylish manner, who was swinging a jaunty +cane. + +"I've had my boots blacked once already this morning, but this +confounded mud has spoiled the shine." + +"I'll make 'em all right, sir, in a minute." + +"Go ahead, then." + +The boots were soon polished in Dick's best style, which proved very +satisfactory, our hero being a proficient in the art. + +"I haven't got any change," said the young man, fumbling in his +pocket, "but here's a bill you may run somewhere and get changed. +I'll pay you five cents extra for your trouble." + +He handed Dick a two-dollar bill, which our hero took into a store +close by. + +"Will you please change that, sir?" said Dick, walking up to the +counter. + +The salesman to whom he proffered it took the bill, and, slightly +glancing at it, exclaimed angrily, "Be off, you young vagabond, or +I'll have you arrested." + +"What's the row?" + +"You've offered me a counterfeit bill." + +"I didn't know it," said Dick. + +"Don't tell me. Be off, or I'll have you arrested." + + + +CHAPTER III + +DICK MAKES A PROPOSITION + + +Though Dick was somewhat startled at discovering that the bill he +had offered was counterfeit, he stood his ground bravely. + +"Clear out of this shop, you young vagabond," repeated the clerk. + +"Then give me back my bill." + +"That you may pass it again? No, sir, I shall do no such thing." + +"It doesn't belong to me," said Dick. "A gentleman that owes me for +a shine gave it to me to change." + +"A likely story," said the clerk; but he seemed a little uneasy. + +"I'll go and call him," said Dick. + +He went out, and found his late customer standing on the Astor House +steps. + +"Well, youngster, have you brought back my change? You were a +precious long time about it. I began to think you had cleared out +with the money." + +"That aint my style," said Dick, proudly. + +"Then where's the change?" + +"I haven't got it." + +"Where's the bill then?" + +"I haven't got that either." + +"You young rascal!" + +"Hold on a minute, mister," said Dick, "and I'll tell you all about +it. The man what took the bill said it wasn't good, and kept it." + +"The bill was perfectly good. So he kept it, did he? I'll go with +you to the store, and see whether he won't give it back to me." + +Dick led the way, and the gentleman followed him into the store. +At the reappearance of Dick in such company, the clerk flushed a +little, and looked nervous. He fancied that he could browbeat a +ragged boot-black, but with a gentleman he saw that it would be a +different matter. He did not seem to notice the newcomers, but +began to replace some goods on the shelves. + +Now, said the young man, "point out the clerk that has my money." + +"That's him," said Dick, pointing out the clerk. + +The gentleman walked up to the counter. + +"I will trouble you," he said a little haughtily, "for a bill which +that boy offered you, and which you still hold in your possession." + +"It was a bad bill," said the clerk, his cheek flushing, and his +manner nervous. + +"It was no such thing. I require you to produce it, and let the +matter be decided." + +The clerk fumbled in his vest-pocket, and drew out a bad-looking +bill. + +"This is a bad bill, but it is not the one I gave the boy." + +"It is the one he gave me." + +The young man looked doubtful. + +"Boy," he said to Dick, "is this the bill you gave to be changed?" + +"No, it isn't." + +"You lie, you young rascal!" exclaimed the clerk, who began to find +himself in a tight place, and could not see the way out. + +This scene naturally attracted the attention of all in the store, +and the proprietor walked up from the lower end, where he had been +busy. + +"What's all this, Mr. Hatch?" he demanded. + +"That boy," said the clerk, "came in and asked change for a bad +bill. I kept the bill, and told him to clear out. Now he wants it +again to pass on somebody else." + +"Show the bill." + +The merchant looked at it. "Yes, that's a bad bill," he said. "There +is no doubt about that." + +"But it is not the one the boy offered," said Dick's patron. +"It is one of the same denomination, but on a different bank." + +"Do you remember what bank it was on?" + +"It was on the Merchants' Bank of Boston." + +"Are you sure of it?" + +"I am." + +"Perhaps the boy kept it and offered the other." + +"You may search me if you want to," said Dick, indignantly. + +"He doesn't look as if he was likely to have any extra bills. I +suspect that your clerk pocketed the good bill, and has substituted +the counterfeit note. It is a nice little scheme of his for making +money." + +"I haven't seen any bill on the Merchants' Bank," said the clerk, +doggedly. + +"You had better feel in your pockets." + +"This matter must be investigated," said the merchant, firmly. "If +you have the bill, produce it." + +"I haven't got it," said the clerk; but he looked guilty +notwithstanding. + +"I demand that he be searched," said Dick's patron. + +"I tell you I haven't got it." + +"Shall I send for a police officer, Mr. Hatch, or will you allow +yourself to be searched quietly?" said the merchant. + +Alarmed at the threat implied in these words, the clerk put his hand +into his vest-pocket, and drew out a two-dollar bill on the +Merchants' Bank. + +"Is this your note?" asked the shopkeeper, showing it to the +young man. + +"It is." + +"I must have made a mistake," faltered the clerk. + +"I shall not give you a chance to make such another mistake in my +employ," said the merchant sternly. "You may go up to the desk and +ask for what wages are due you. I shall have no further occasion for +your services." + +"Now, youngster," said Dick's patron, as they went out of the store, +after he had finally got the bill changed. "I must pay you something +extra for your trouble. Here's fifty cents." + +"Thank you, sir," said Dick. "You're very kind. Don't you want some +more bills changed?" + +"Not to-day," said he with a smile. "It's too expensive." + +"I'm in luck," thought our hero complacently. "I guess I'll go to +Barnum's to-night, and see the bearded lady, the eight-foot giant, +the two-foot dwarf, and the other curiosities, too numerous to +mention." + +Dick shouldered his box and walked up as far as the Astor House. He +took his station on the sidewalk, and began to look about him. + +Just behind him were two persons,--one, a gentleman of fifty; the +other, a boy of thirteen or fourteen. They were speaking together, +and Dick had no difficulty in hearing what was said. + +"I am sorry, Frank, that I can't go about, and show you some of the +sights of New York, but I shall be full of business to-day. It is +your first visit to the city, too." + +"Yes, sir." + +"There's a good deal worth seeing here. But I'm afraid you'll have +to wait to next time. You can go out and walk by yourself, but don't +venture too far, or you will get lost." + +Frank looked disappointed. + +"I wish Tom Miles knew I was here," he said. "He would go around +with me." + +"Where does he live?" + +"Somewhere up town, I believe." + +"Then, unfortunately, he is not available. If you would rather go +with me than stay here, you can, but as I shall be most of the time +in merchants'-counting-rooms, I am afraid it would not be very +interesting." + +"I think," said Frank, after a little hesitation, "that I will go +off by myself. I won't go very far, and if I lose my way, I will +inquire for the Astor House." + +"Yes, anybody will direct you here. Very well, Frank, I am sorry I +can't do better for you." + +"Oh, never mind, uncle, I shall be amused in walking around, and +looking at the shop-windows. There will be a great deal to see." + +Now Dick had listened to all this conversation. Being an +enterprising young man, he thought he saw a chance for a +speculation, and determined to avail himself of it. + +Accordingly he stepped up to the two just as Frank's uncle was about +leaving, and said, "I know all about the city, sir; I'll show him +around, if you want me to." + +The gentleman looked a little curiously at the ragged figure before +him. + +"So you are a city boy, are you?" + +"Yes, sir," said Dick, "I've lived here ever since I was a baby." + +"And you know all about the public buildings, I suppose?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And the Central Park?" + +"Yes, sir. I know my way all round." + +The gentleman looked thoughtful. + +"I don't know what to say, Frank," he remarked after a while. "It is +rather a novel proposal. He isn't exactly the sort of guide I would +have picked out for you. Still he looks honest. He has an open face, +and I think can be depended upon." + +"I wish he wasn't so ragged and dirty," said Frank, who felt a +little shy about being seen with such a companion. + +"I'm afraid you haven't washed your face this morning," said Mr. +Whitney, for that was the gentleman's name. + +"They didn't have no wash-bowls at the hotel where I stopped," said +Dick. + +"What hotel did you stop at?" + +"The Box Hotel." + +"The Box Hotel?" + +"Yes, sir, I slept in a box on Spruce Street." + +Frank surveyed Dick curiously. + +"How did you like it?" he asked. + +"I slept bully." + +"Suppose it had rained." + +"Then I'd have wet my best clothes," said Dick. + +"Are these all the clothes you have?" + +"Yes, sir." + +Mr. Whitney spoke a few words to Frank, who seemed pleased with the +suggestion. + +"Follow me, my lad," he said. + +Dick in some surprise obeyed orders, following Mr. Whitney and Frank +into the hotel, past the office, to the foot of the staircase. Here +a servant of the hotel stopped Dick, but Mr. Whitney explained that +he had something for him to do, and he was allowed to proceed. + +They entered a long entry, and finally paused before a door. This +being opened a pleasant chamber was disclosed. + +"Come in, my lad," said Mr. Whitney. + +Dick and Frank entered. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +DICK'S NEW SUIT + + +"Now," said Mr. Whitney to Dick, "my nephew here is on his way to a +boarding-school. He has a suit of clothes in his trunk about half +worn. He is willing to give them to you. I think they will look +better than those you have on." + +Dick was so astonished that he hardly knew what to say. Presents +were something that he knew very little about, never having received +any to his knowledge. That so large a gift should be made to him by +a stranger seemed very wonderful. + +The clothes were brought out, and turned out to be a neat gray suit. + +"Before you put them on, my lad, you must wash yourself. Clean +clothes and a dirty skin don't go very well together. Frank, you may +attend to him. I am obliged to go at once. Have you got as much +money as you require?" + +"Yes, uncle." + +"One more word, my lad," said Mr. Whitney, addressing Dick; "I may +be rash in trusting a boy of whom I know nothing, but I like your +looks, and I think you will prove a proper guide for my nephew." + +"Yes, I will, sir," said Dick, earnestly. "Honor bright!" + +"Very well. A pleasant time to you." + +The process of cleansing commenced. To tell the truth Dick needed +it, and the sensation of cleanliness he found both new and pleasant. +Frank added to his gift a shirt, stockings, and an old pair of +shoes. "I am sorry I haven't any cap," said he. + +"I've got one," said Dick. + +"It isn't so new as it might be," said Frank, surveying an old felt +hat, which had once been black, but was now dingy, with a large hole +in the top and a portion of the rim torn off. + +"No," said Dick; "my grandfather used to wear it when he was a boy, +and I've kep' it ever since out of respect for his memory. But I'll +get a new one now. I can buy one cheap on Chatham Street." + +"Is that near here?" + +"Only five minutes' walk." + +"Then we can get one on the way." + +When Dick was dressed in his new attire, with his face and hands +clean, and his hair brushed, it was difficult to imagine that he was +the same boy. + +He now looked quite handsome, and might readily have been taken for +a young gentleman, except that his hands were red and grimy. + +"Look at yourself," said Frank, leading him before the mirror. + +"By gracious!" said Dick, starting back in astonishment, "that isn't +me, is it?" + +"Don't you know yourself?" asked Frank, smiling. + +"It reminds me of Cinderella," said Dick, "when she was changed into +a fairy princess. I see it one night at Barnum's. What'll Johnny +Nolan say when he sees me? He won't dare to speak to such a young +swell as I be now. Aint it rich?" and Dick burst into a loud laugh. +His fancy was tickled by the anticipation of his friend's surprise. +Then the thought of the valuable gifts he had revived occurred to +him, and he looked gratefully at Frank. + +"You're a brick," he said. + +"A what?" + +"A brick! You're a jolly good fellow to give me such a present." + +"You're quite welcome, Dick," said Frank, kindly. "I'm better off +than you are, and I can spare the clothes just as well as not. You +must have a new hat though. But that we can get when we go out. The +old clothes you can make into a bundle." + +"Wait a minute till I get my handkercher," and Dick pulled from the +pocket of the pants a dirty rag, which might have been white once, +though it did not look like it, and had apparently once formed a +part of a sheet or shirt. + +"You mustn't carry that," said Frank. + +"But I've got a cold," said Dick. + +"Oh, I don't mean you to go without a handkerchief. I'll give you +one." + +Frank opened his trunk and pulled out two, which he gave to Dick. + +"I wonder if I aint dreamin'," said Dick, once more surveying +himself doubtfully in the glass. "I'm afraid I'm dreamin', and shall +wake up in a barrel, as I did night afore last." + +"Shall I pinch you so you can wake here?" asked Frank, playfully. + +"Yes," said Dick, seriously, "I wish you would." + +He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, and Frank pinched him pretty +hard, so that Dick winced. + +"Yes, I guess I'm awake," said Dick; "you've got a pair of nippers, +you have. But what shall I do with my brush and blacking?" he asked. + +"You can leave them here till we come back," said Frank. "They will +be safe." + +"Hold on a minute," said Dick, surveying Frank's boots with a +professional eye, "you aint got a good shine on them boots. I'll +make 'em shine so you can see your face in 'em." + +And he was as good as his word. + +"Thank you," said Frank; "now you had better brush your own shoes." + +This had not occurred to Dick, for in general the professional +boot-black considers his blacking too valuable to expend on his +own shoes or boots, if he is fortunate enough to possess a pair. + +The two boys now went downstairs together. They met the same servant +who had spoken to Dick a few minutes before, but there was no +recognition. + +"He don't know me," said Dick. "He thinks I'm a young swell like +you." + +"What's a swell?" + +"Oh, a feller that wears nobby clothes like you." + +"And you, too, Dick." + +"Yes," said Dick, "who'd ever have thought as I should have turned +into a swell?" + +They had now got out on Broadway, and were slowly walking along the +west side by the Park, when who should Dick see in front of him, but +Johnny Nolan? + +Instantly Dick was seized with a fancy for witnessing Johnny's +amazement at his change in appearance. He stole up behind him, and +struck him on the back. + +"Hallo, Johnny, how many shines have you had?" + +Johnny turned round expecting to see Dick, whose voice he +recognized, but his astonished eyes rested on a nicely dressed +boy (the hat alone excepted) who looked indeed like Dick, but +so transformed in dress that it was difficult to be sure of +his identity. + +"What luck, Johnny?" repeated Dick. + +Johnny surveyed him from head to foot in great bewilderment. + +"Who be you?" he said. + +"Well, that's a good one," laughed Dick; "so you don't know Dick?" + +"Where'd you get all them clothes?" asked Johnny. "Have you been +stealin'?" + +"Say that again, and I'll lick you. No, I've lent my clothes to a +young feller as was goin' to a party, and didn't have none fit to +wear, and so I put on my second-best for a change." + +Without deigning any further explanation, Dick went off, followed +by the astonished gaze of Johnny Nolan, who could not quite make up +his mind whether the neat-looking boy he had been talking with was +really Ragged Dick or not. + +In order to reach Chatham Street it was necessary to cross Broadway. +This was easier proposed than done. There is always such a throng +of omnibuses, drays, carriages, and vehicles of all kinds in the +neighborhood of the Astor House, that the crossing is formidable +to one who is not used to it. Dick made nothing of it, dodging in +and out among the horses and wagons with perfect self-possession. +Reaching the opposite sidewalk, he looked back, and found that +Frank had retreated in dismay, and that the width of the street +was between them. + +"Come across!" called out Dick. + +"I don't see any chance," said Frank, looking anxiously at the +prospect before him. "I'm afraid of being run over." + +"If you are, you can sue 'em for damages," said Dick. + +Finally Frank got safely over after several narrow escapes, as he +considered them. + +"Is it always so crowded?" he asked. + +"A good deal worse sometimes," said Dick. "I knowed a young man once +who waited six hours for a chance to cross, and at last got run +over by an omnibus, leaving a widder and a large family of orphan +children. His widder, a beautiful young woman, was obliged to start +a peanut and apple stand. There she is now." + +"Where?" + +Dick pointed to a hideous old woman, of large proportions, wearing a +bonnet of immense size, who presided over an apple-stand close by. + +Frank laughed. + +"If that is the case," he said, "I think I will patronize her." + +"Leave it to me," said Dick, winking. + +He advanced gravely to the apple-stand, and said, "Old lady, +have you paid your taxes?" + +The astonished woman opened her eyes. + +"I'm a gov'ment officer," said Dick, "sent by the mayor to collect +your taxes. I'll take it in apples just to oblige. That big red one +will about pay what you're owin' to the gov'ment." + +"I don't know nothing about no taxes," said the old woman, in +bewilderment. + +"Then," said Dick, "I'll let you off this time. Give us two of +your best apples, and my friend here, the President of the Common +Council, will pay you." + +Frank smiling, paid three cents apiece for the apples, and they +sauntered on, Dick remarking, "If these apples aint good, old lady, +we'll return 'em, and get our money back." This would have been +rather difficult in his case, as the apple was already half +consumed. + +Chatham Street, where they wished to go, being on the East side, the +two boys crossed the Park. This is an enclosure of about ten acres, +which years ago was covered with a green sward, but is now a great +thoroughfare for pedestrians and contains several important public +buildings. Dick pointed out the City Hall, the Hall of Records, and +the Rotunda. The former is a white building of large size, and +surmounted by a cupola. + +"That's where the mayor's office is," said Dick. "Him and me +are very good friends. I once blacked his boots by partic'lar +appointment. That's the way I pay my city taxes." + + + +CHAPTER V + +CHATHAM STREET AND BROADWAY + + +They were soon in Chatham Street, walking between rows of ready-made +clothing shops, many of which had half their stock in trade exposed +on the sidewalk. The proprietors of these establishments stood at +the doors, watching attentively the passersby, extending urgent +invitations to any who even glanced at the goods to enter. + +"Walk in, young gentlemen," said a stout man, at the entrance of one +shop. + +"No, I thank you," replied Dick, "as the fly said to the spider." + +"We're selling off at less than cost." + +"Of course you be. That's where you makes your money," said Dick. +"There aint nobody of any enterprise that pretends to make any +profit on his goods." + +The Chatham Street trader looked after our hero as if he didn't +quite comprehend him; but Dick, without waiting for a reply, passed +on with his companion. + +In some of the shops auctions seemed to be going on. + +"I am only offered two dollars, gentlemen, for this elegant pair +of doeskin pants, made of the very best of cloth. It's a frightful +sacrifice. Who'll give an eighth? Thank you, sir. Only seventeen +shillings! Why the cloth cost more by the yard!" + +This speaker was standing on a little platform haranguing to three +men, holding in his hand meanwhile a pair of pants very loose in +the legs, and presenting a cheap Bowery look. + +Frank and Dick paused before the shop door, and finally saw them +knocked down to rather a verdant-looking individual at three +dollars. + +"Clothes seem to be pretty cheap here," said Frank. + +"Yes, but Baxter Street is the cheapest place." + +"Is it?" + +"Yes. Johnny Nolan got a whole rig-out there last week, for a +dollar,--coat, cap, vest, pants, and shoes. They was very good +measure, too, like my best clothes that I took off to oblige you." + +"I shall know where to come for clothes next time," said Frank, +laughing. "I had no idea the city was so much cheaper than the +country. I suppose the Baxter Street tailors are fashionable?" + +"In course they are. Me and Horace Greeley always go there for +clothes. When Horace gets a new suit, I always have one made just +like it; but I can't go the white hat. It aint becomin' to my +style of beauty." + +A little farther on a man was standing out on the sidewalk, +distributing small printed handbills. One was handed to Frank, +which he read as follows,-- + +"GRAND CLOSING-OUT SALE!--A variety of Beautiful and Costly +Articles for Sale, at a Dollar apiece. Unparalleled Inducements! +Walk in, Gentlemen!" + +"Whereabouts is this sale?" asked Frank. + +"In here, young gentlemen," said a black-whiskered individual, +who appeared suddenly on the scene. "Walk in." + +"Shall we go in, Dick?" + +"It's a swindlin' shop," said Dick, in a low voice. "I've been +there. That man's a regular cheat. He's seen me before, but he +don't know me coz of my clothes." + +"Step in and see the articles," said the man, persuasively. "You +needn't buy, you know." + +"Are all the articles worth more'n a dollar?" asked Dick. + +"Yes," said the other, "and some worth a great deal more." + +"Such as what?" + +"Well, there's a silver pitcher worth twenty dollars." + +"And you sell it for a dollar. That's very kind of you," said Dick, +innocently. + +"Walk in, and you'll understand it." + +"No, I guess not," said Dick. "My servants is so dishonest that I +wouldn't like to trust 'em with a silver pitcher. Come along, Frank. +I hope you'll succeed in your charitable enterprise of supplyin' +the public with silver pitchers at nineteen dollars less than they +are worth." + +"How does he manage, Dick?" asked Frank, as they went on. + +"All his articles are numbered, and he makes you pay a dollar, and +then shakes some dice, and whatever the figgers come to, is the +number of the article you draw. Most of 'em aint worth sixpence." + +A hat and cap store being close at hand, Dick and Frank went in. For +seventy-five cents, which Frank insisted on paying, Dick succeeded +in getting quite a neat-looking cap, which corresponded much better +with his appearance than the one he had on. The last, not being +considered worth keeping, Dick dropped on the sidewalk, from which, +on looking back, he saw it picked up by a brother boot-black who +appeared to consider it better than his own. + +They retraced their steps and went up Chambers Street to Broadway. +At the corner of Broadway and Chambers Street is a large white +marble warehouse, which attracted Frank's attention. + +"What building is that?" he asked, with interest. + +"That belongs to my friend A. T. Stewart," said Dick. "It's the +biggest store on Broadway.* If I ever retire from boot-blackin', and +go into mercantile pursuits, I may buy him out, or build another +store that'll take the shine off this one." + +* Mr. Stewart's Tenth Street store was not open at the time +Dick spoke. + + +"Were you ever in the store?" asked Frank. + +"No," said Dick; "but I'm intimate with one of Stewart's partners. +He is a cash boy, and does nothing but take money all day." + +"A very agreeable employment," said Frank, laughing. + +"Yes," said Dick, "I'd like to be in it." + +The boys crossed to the West side of Broadway, and walked slowly up +the street. To Frank it was a very interesting spectacle. Accustomed +to the quiet of the country, there was something fascinating in the +crowds of people thronging the sidewalks, and the great variety of +vehicles constantly passing and repassing in the street. Then again +the shop-windows with their multifarious contents interested and +amused him, and he was constantly checking Dick to look in at some +well-stocked window. + +"I don't see how so many shopkeepers can find people enough to buy +of them," he said. "We haven't got but two stores in our village, +and Broadway seems to be full of them." + +"Yes," said Dick; "and its pretty much the same in the avenoos, +'specially the Third, Sixth, and Eighth avenoos. The Bowery, too, +is a great place for shoppin'. There everybody sells cheaper'n +anybody else, and nobody pretends to make no profit on their goods." + +"Where's Barnum's Museum?" asked Frank. + +"Oh, that's down nearly opposite the Astor House," said Dick. +"Didn't you see a great building with lots of flags?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, that's Barnum's.* That's where the Happy Family live, and the +lions, and bears, and curiosities generally. It's a tip-top place. +Haven't you ever been there? It's most as good as the Old Bowery, +only the plays isn't quite so excitin'." + +* Since destroyed by fire, and rebuilt farther up Broadway, +and again burned down in February. + + +"I'll go if I get time," said Frank. "There is a boy at home who +came to New York a month ago, and went to Barnum's, and has been +talking about it ever since, so I suppose it must be worth seeing." + +"They've got a great play at the Old Bowery now," pursued Dick. +"'Tis called the 'Demon of the Danube.' The Demon falls in love with +a young woman, and drags her by the hair up to the top of a steep +rock where his castle stands." + +"That's a queer way of showing his love," said Frank, laughing. + +"She didn't want to go with him, you know, but was in love with +another chap. When he heard about his girl bein' carried off, he +felt awful, and swore an oath not to rest till he had got her free. +Well, at last he got into the castle by some underground passage, +and he and the Demon had a fight. Oh, it was bully seein' 'em roll +round on the stage, cuttin' and slashin' at each other." + +"And which got the best of it?" + +"At first the Demon seemed to be ahead, but at last the young Baron +got him down, and struck a dagger into his heart, sayin', 'Die, +false and perjured villain! The dogs shall feast upon thy carcass!' +and then the Demon give an awful howl and died. Then the Baron +seized his body, and threw it over the precipice." + +"It seems to me the actor who plays the Demon ought to get extra +pay, if he has to be treated that way." + +"That's so," said Dick; "but I guess he's used to it. It seems to +agree with his constitution." + +"What building is that?" asked Frank, pointing to a structure +several rods back from the street, with a large yard in front. It +was an unusual sight for Broadway, all the other buildings in that +neighborhood being even with the street. + +"That is the New York Hospital," said Dick. "They're a rich +institution, and take care of sick people on very reasonable terms." + +"Did you ever go in there?" + +"Yes," said Dick; "there was a friend of mine, Johnny Mullen, he was +a newsboy, got run over by a omnibus as he was crossin' Broadway +down near Park Place. He was carried to the Hospital, and me and +some of his friends paid his board while he was there. It was only +three dollars a week, which was very cheap, considerin' all the care +they took of him. I got leave to come and see him while he was here. +Everything looked so nice and comfortable, that I thought a little +of coaxin' a omnibus driver to run over me, so I might go there +too." + +"Did your friend have to have his leg cut off?" asked Frank, +interested. + +"No," said Dick; "though there was a young student there that was +very anxious to have it cut off; but it wasn't done, and Johnny is +around the streets as well as ever." + +While this conversation was going on they reached No. 365, at the +corner of Franklin Street.* + +* Now the office of the Merchants' Union Express Company. + + +"That's Taylor's Saloon," said Dick. "When I come into a fortun' I +shall take my meals there reg'lar." + +"I have heard of it very often," said Frank. "It is said to be very +elegant. Suppose we go in and take an ice-cream. It will give us a +chance to see it to better advantage." + +"Thank you," said Dick; "I think that's the most agreeable way of +seein' the place myself." + +The boys entered, and found themselves in a spacious and elegant +saloon, resplendent with gilding, and adorned on all sides by costly +mirrors. They sat down to a small table with a marble top, and Frank +gave the order. + +"It reminds me of Aladdin's palace," said Frank, looking about him. + +"Does it?" said Dick; "he must have had plenty of money." + +"He had an old lamp, which he had only to rub, when the Slave of the +Lamp would appear, and do whatever he wanted." + +"That must have been a valooable lamp. I'd be willin' to give all my +Erie shares for it." + +There was a tall, gaunt individual at the next table, who apparently +heard this last remark of Dick's. Turning towards our hero, he said, +"May I inquire, young man, whether you are largely interested in +this Erie Railroad?" + +"I haven't got no property except what's invested in Erie," said +Dick, with a comical side-glance at Frank. + +"Indeed! I suppose the investment was made by your guardian." + +"No," said Dick; "I manage my property myself." + +"And I presume your dividends have not been large?" + +"Why, no," said Dick; "you're about right there. They haven't." + +"As I supposed. It's poor stock. Now, my young friend, I can +recommend a much better investment, which will yield you a large +annual income. I am agent of the Excelsior Copper Mining Company, +which possesses one of the most productive mines in the world. It's +sure to yield fifty per cent. on the investment. Now, all you have +to do is to sell out your Erie shares, and invest in our stock, and +I'll insure you a fortune in three years. How many shares did you +say you had?" + +"I didn't say, that I remember," said Dick. "Your offer is very kind +and obligin', and as soon as I get time I'll see about it." + +"I hope you will," said the stranger. "Permit me to give you my +card. 'Samuel Snap, No. -- Wall Street.' I shall be most happy to +receive a call from you, and exhibit the maps of our mine. I should +be glad to have you mention the matter also to your friends. I am +confident you could do no greater service than to induce them to +embark in our enterprise." + +"Very good," said Dick. + +Here the stranger left the table, and walked up to the desk to +settle his bill. + +"You see what it is to be a man of fortun', Frank," said Dick, "and +wear good clothes. I wonder what that chap'll say when he sees me +blackin' boots to-morrow in the street?" + +"Perhaps you earn your money more honorably than he does, after +all," said Frank. "Some of these mining companies are nothing but +swindles, got up to cheat people out of their money." + +"He's welcome to all he gets out of me," said Dick. + + + +CHAPTER VI + +UP BROADWAY TO MADISON SQUARE + + +As the boys pursued their way up Broadway, Dick pointed out the +prominent hotels and places of amusement. Frank was particularly +struck with the imposing fronts of the St. Nicholas and Metropolitan +Hotels, the former of white marble, the latter of a subdued brown +hue, but not less elegant in its internal appointments. He was not +surprised to be informed that each of these splendid structures cost +with the furnishing not far from a million dollars. + +At Eighth Street Dick turned to the right, and pointed out the +Clinton Hall Building now occupied by the Mercantile Library, +comprising at that time over fifty thousand volumes.* + +* Now not far from one hundred thousand. + + +A little farther on they came to a large building standing by itself +just at the opening of Third and Fourth Avenues, and with one side +on each. + +"What is that building?" asked Frank. + +"That's the Cooper Institute," said Dick; "built by Mr. Cooper, +a particular friend of mine. Me and Peter Cooper used to go to +school together." + +"What is there inside?" asked Frank. + +"There's a hall for public meetin's and lectures in the basement, +and a readin' room and a picture gallery up above," said Dick. + +Directly opposite Cooper Institute, Frank saw a very large building +of brick, covering about an acre of ground. + +"Is that a hotel?" he asked. + +"No," said Dick; "that's the Bible House. It's the place where they +make Bibles. I was in there once,--saw a big pile of 'em." + +"Did you ever read the Bible?" asked Frank, who had some idea of the +neglected state of Dick's education. + +"No," said Dick; "I've heard it's a good book, but I never read one. +I aint much on readin'. It makes my head ache." + +"I suppose you can't read very fast." + +"I can read the little words pretty well, but the big ones is what +stick me." + +"If I lived in the city, you might come every evening to me, and I +would teach you." + +"Would you take so much trouble about me?" asked Dick, earnestly. + +"Certainly; I should like to see you getting on. There isn't much +chance of that if you don't know how to read and write." + +"You're a good feller," said Dick, gratefully. "I wish you did live +in New York. I'd like to know somethin'. Whereabouts do you live?" + +"About fifty miles off, in a town on the left bank of the Hudson. +I wish you'd come up and see me sometime. I would like to have you +come and stop two or three days." + +"Honor bright?" + +"I don't understand." + +"Do you mean it?" asked Dick, incredulously. + +"Of course I do. Why shouldn't I?" + +"What would your folks say if they knowed you asked a boot-black to +visit you?" + +"You are none the worse for being a boot-black, Dick." + +"I aint used to genteel society," said Dick. "I shouldn't know how +to behave." + +"Then I could show you. You won't be a boot-black all your life, you +know." + +"No," said Dick; "I'm goin' to knock off when I get to be ninety." + +"Before that, I hope," said Frank, smiling. + +"I really wish I could get somethin' else to do," said Dick, +soberly. "I'd like to be a office boy, and learn business, and grow +up 'spectable." + +"Why don't you try, and see if you can't get a place, Dick?" + +"Who'd take Ragged Dick?" + +"But you aint ragged now, Dick." + +"No," said Dick; "I look a little better than I did in my Washington +coat and Louis Napoleon pants. But if I got in a office, they +wouldn't give me more'n three dollars a week, and I couldn't live +'spectable on that." + +"No, I suppose not," said Frank, thoughtfully. "But you would get +more at the end of the first year." + +"Yes," said Dick; "but by that time I'd be nothin' but skin and +bones." + +Frank laughed. "That reminds me," he said, "of the story of an +Irishman, who, out of economy, thought he would teach his horse to +feed on shavings. So he provided the horse with a pair of green +spectacles which made the shavings look eatable. But unfortunately, +just as the horse got learned, he up and died." + +"The hoss must have been a fine specimen of architectur' by the time +he got through," remarked Dick. + +"Whereabouts are we now?" asked Frank, as they emerged from Fourth +Avenue into Union Square. + +"That is Union Park," said Dick, pointing to a beautiful enclosure, +in the centre of which was a pond, with a fountain playing. + +"Is that the statue of General Washington?" asked Frank, pointing to +a bronze equestrian statue, on a granite pedestal. + +"Yes," said Dick; "he's growed some since he was President. If +he'd been as tall as that when he fit in the Revolution, he'd have +walloped the Britishers some, I reckon." + +Frank looked up at the statue, which is fourteen and a half feet +high, and acknowledged the justice of Dick's remark. + +"How about the coat, Dick?" he asked. "Would it fit you?" + +"Well, it might be rather loose," said Dick, "I aint much more'n +ten feet high with my boots off." + +"No, I should think not," said Frank, smiling. "You're a queer boy, +Dick." + +"Well, I've been brought up queer. Some boys is born with a silver +spoon in their mouth. Victoria's boys is born with a gold spoon, set +with di'monds; but gold and silver was scarce when I was born, and +mine was pewter." + +"Perhaps the gold and silver will come by and by, Dick. Did you ever +hear of Dick Whittington?" + +"Never did. Was he a Ragged Dick?" + +"I shouldn't wonder if he was. At any rate he was very poor when he +was a boy, but he didn't stay so. Before he died, he became Lord +Mayor of London." + +"Did he?" asked Dick, looking interested. "How did he do it?" + +"Why, you see, a rich merchant took pity on him, and gave him a +home in his own house, where he used to stay with the servants, +being employed in little errands. One day the merchant noticed Dick +picking up pins and needles that had been dropped, and asked him +why he did it. Dick told him he was going to sell them when he got +enough. The merchant was pleased with his saving disposition, and +when soon after, he was going to send a vessel to foreign parts, he +told Dick he might send anything he pleased in it, and it should +be sold to his advantage. Now Dick had nothing in the world but a +kitten which had been given him a short time before." + +"How much taxes did he have to pay on it?" asked Dick. + +"Not very high, probably. But having only the kitten, he concluded +to send it along. After sailing a good many months, during which the +kitten grew up to be a strong cat, the ship touched at an island +never before known, which happened to be infested with rats and +mice to such an extent that they worried everybody's life out, and +even ransacked the king's palace. To make a long story short, the +captain, seeing how matters stood, brought Dick's cat ashore, +and she soon made the rats and mice scatter. The king was highly +delighted when he saw what havoc she made among the rats and mice, +and resolved to have her at any price. So he offered a great +quantity of gold for her, which, of course, the captain was glad +to accept. It was faithfully carried back to Dick, and laid the +foundation of his fortune. He prospered as he grew up, and in time +became a very rich merchant, respected by all, and before he died +was elected Lord Mayor of London." + +"That's a pretty good story" said Dick; "but I don't believe all the +cats in New York will ever make me mayor." + +"No, probably not, but you may rise in some other way. A good many +distinguished men have once been poor boys. There's hope for you, +Dick, if you'll try." + +"Nobody ever talked to me so before," said Dick. "They just called +me Ragged Dick, and told me I'd grow up to be a vagabone (boys who +are better educated need not be surprised at Dick's blunders) and +come to the gallows." + +"Telling you so won't make it turn out so, Dick. If you'll try to +be somebody, and grow up into a respectable member of society, you +will. You may not become rich,--it isn't everybody that becomes +rich, you know--but you can obtain a good position, and be +respected." + +"I'll try," said Dick, earnestly. "I needn't have been Ragged Dick +so long if I hadn't spent my money in goin' to the theatre, and +treatin' boys to oyster-stews, and bettin' money on cards, and +such like." + +"Have you lost money that way?" + +"Lots of it. One time I saved up five dollars to buy me a new +rig-out, cos my best suit was all in rags, when Limpy Jim wanted +me to play a game with him." + +"Limpy Jim?" said Frank, interrogatively. + +"Yes, he's lame; that's what makes us call him Limpy Jim." + +"I suppose you lost?" + +"Yes, I lost every penny, and had to sleep out, cos I hadn't a cent +to pay for lodgin'. 'Twas a awful cold night, and I got most froze." + +"Wouldn't Jim let you have any of the money he had won to pay for a +lodging?" + +"No; I axed him for five cents, but he wouldn't let me have it." + +"Can you get lodging for five cents?" asked Frank, in surprise. + +"Yes," said Dick, "but not at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. That's it +right out there." + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE POCKET-BOOK + + +They had reached the junction of Broadway and of Fifth Avenue. +Before them was a beautiful park of ten acres. On the left-hand side +was a large marble building, presenting a fine appearance with its +extensive white front. This was the building at which Dick pointed. + +"Is that the Fifth Avenue Hotel?" asked Frank. "I've heard of it +often. My Uncle William always stops there when he comes to New +York." + +"I once slept on the outside of it," said Dick. "They was very +reasonable in their charges, and told me I might come again." + +"Perhaps sometime you'll be able to sleep inside," said Frank. + +"I guess that'll be when Queen Victoria goes to the Five Points +to live." + +"It looks like a palace," said Frank. "The queen needn't be ashamed +to live in such a beautiful building as that." + +Though Frank did not know it, one of the queen's palaces is far +from being as fine a looking building as the Fifth Avenue Hotel. +St. James' Palace is a very ugly-looking brick structure, and +appears much more like a factory than like the home of royalty. +There are few hotels in the world as fine-looking as this +democratic institution. + +At that moment a gentleman passed them on the sidewalk, who looked +back at Dick, as if his face seemed familiar. + +"I know that man," said Dick, after he had passed. "He's one of my +customers." + +"What is his name?" + +"I don't know." + +"He looked back as if he thought he knew you." + +"He would have knowed me at once if it hadn't been for my new +clothes," said Dick. "I don't look much like Ragged Dick now." + +"I suppose your face looked familiar." + +"All but the dirt," said Dick, laughing. "I don't always have the +chance of washing my face and hands in the Astor House." + +"You told me," said Frank, "that there was a place where you could +get lodging for five cents. Where's that?" + +"It's the News-boys' Lodgin' House, on Fulton Street," said Dick, +"up over the 'Sun' office. It's a good place. I don't know what us +boys would do without it. They give you supper for six cents, and +a bed for five cents more." + +"I suppose some boys don't even have the five cents to pay,--do +they?" + +"They'll trust the boys," said Dick. "But I don't like to get +trusted. I'd be ashamed to get trusted for five cents, or ten +either. One night I was comin' down Chatham Street, with fifty +cents in my pocket. I was goin' to get a good oyster-stew, and then +go to the lodgin' house; but somehow it slipped through a hole in +my trowses-pocket, and I hadn't a cent left. If it had been summer +I shouldn't have cared, but it's rather tough stayin' out winter +nights." + +Frank, who had always possessed a good home of his own, found +it hard to realize that the boy who was walking at his side had +actually walked the streets in the cold without a home, or money +to procure the common comfort of a bed. + +"What did you do?" he asked, his voice full of sympathy. + +"I went to the 'Times' office. I knowed one of the pressmen, and he +let me set down in a corner, where I was warm, and I soon got fast +asleep." + +"Why don't you get a room somewhere, and so always have a home to +go to?" + +"I dunno," said Dick. "I never thought of it. P'rhaps I may hire a +furnished house on Madison Square." + +"That's where Flora McFlimsey lived." + +"I don't know her," said Dick, who had never read the popular poem +of which she is the heroine. + +While this conversation was going on, they had turned into +Twenty-fifth Street, and had by this time reached Third Avenue. + +Just before entering it, their attention was drawn to the rather +singular conduct of an individual in front of them. Stopping +suddenly, he appeared to pick up something from the sidewalk, +and then looked about him in rather a confused way. + +"I know his game," whispered Dick. "Come along and you'll see what +it is." + +He hurried Frank forward until they overtook the man, who had come +to a stand-still. + +"Have you found anything?" asked Dick. + +"Yes," said the man, "I've found this." + +He exhibited a wallet which seemed stuffed with bills, to judge from +its plethoric appearance. + +"Whew!" exclaimed Dick; "you're in luck." + +"I suppose somebody has lost it," said the man, "and will offer a +handsome reward." + +"Which you'll get." + +"Unfortunately I am obliged to take the next train to Boston. That's +where I live. I haven't time to hunt up the owner." + +"Then I suppose you'll take the pocket-book with you," said Dick, +with assumed simplicity. + +"I should like to leave it with some honest fellow who would see it +returned to the owner," said the man, glancing at the boys. + +"I'm honest," said Dick. + +"I've no doubt of it," said the other. "Well, young man, "I'll make +you an offer. You take the pocket-book--" + +"All right. Hand it over, then." + +"Wait a minute. There must be a large sum inside. I shouldn't wonder +if there might be a thousand dollars. The owner will probably give +you a hundred dollars reward." + +"Why don't you stay and get it?" asked Frank. + +"I would, only there is sickness in my family, and I must get home +as soon as possible. Just give me twenty dollars, and I'll hand you +the pocket-book, and let you make whatever you can out of it. Come, +that's a good offer. What do you say?" + +Dick was well dressed, so that the other did not regard it as at all +improbable that he might possess that sum. He was prepared, however, +to let him have it for less, if necessary. + +"Twenty dollars is a good deal of money," said Dick, appearing to +hesitate. + +"You'll get it back, and a good deal more," said the stranger, +persuasively. + +"I don't know but I shall. What would you do, Frank?" + +"I don't know but I would," said Frank, "if you've got the money." +He was not a little surprised to think that Dick had so much by him. + +"I don't know but I will," said Dick, after some irresolution. "I +guess I won't lose much." + +"You can't lose anything," said the stranger briskly. "Only be +quick, for I must be on my way to the cars. I am afraid I shall miss +them now." + +Dick pulled out a bill from his pocket, and handed it to the +stranger, receiving the pocket-book in return. At that moment a +policeman turned the corner, and the stranger, hurriedly thrusting +the bill into his pocket, without looking at it, made off with +rapid steps. + +"What is there in the pocket-book, Dick?" asked Frank in some +excitement. "I hope there's enough to pay you for the money you +gave him." + +Dick laughed. + +"I'll risk that," said he. + +"But you gave him twenty dollars. That's a good deal of money." + +"If I had given him as much as that, I should deserve to be cheated +out of it." + +"But you did,--didn't you?" + +"He thought so." + +"What was it, then?" + +"It was nothing but a dry-goods circular got up to imitate a +bank-bill." + +Frank looked sober. + +"You ought not to have cheated him, Dick," he said, reproachfully. + +"Didn't he want to cheat me?" + +"I don't know." + +"What do you s'pose there is in that pocket-book?" asked Dick, +holding it up. + +Frank surveyed its ample proportions, and answered sincerely enough, +"Money, and a good deal of it." + +"There aint stamps enough in it to buy a oyster-stew," said Dick. +"If you don't believe it, just look while I open it." + +So saying he opened the pocket-book, and showed Frank that it was +stuffed out with pieces of blank paper, carefully folded up in the +shape of bills. Frank, who was unused to city life, and had never +heard anything of the "drop-game" looked amazed at this unexpected +development. + +"I knowed how it was all the time," said Dick. "I guess I got the +best of him there. This wallet's worth somethin'. I shall use it to +keep my stiffkit's of Erie stock in, and all my other papers what +aint of no use to anybody but the owner." + +"That's the kind of papers it's got in it now," said Frank, smiling. + +"That's so!" said Dick. + +"By hokey!" he exclaimed suddenly, "if there aint the old chap +comin' back ag'in. He looks as if he'd heard bad news from his +sick family." + +By this time the pocket-book dropper had come up. + +Approaching the boys, he said in an undertone to Dick, "Give me back +that pocket-book, you young rascal!" + +"Beg your pardon, mister," said Dick, "but was you addressin' me?" + +"Yes, I was." + +"'Cause you called me by the wrong name. I've knowed some rascals, +but I aint the honor to belong to the family." + +He looked significantly at the other as he spoke, which didn't +improve the man's temper. Accustomed to swindle others, he did not +fancy being practised upon in return. + +"Give me back that pocket-book," he repeated in a threatening voice. + +"Couldn't do it," said Dick, coolly. "I'm go'n' to restore it to +the owner. The contents is so valooable that most likely the loss +has made him sick, and he'll be likely to come down liberal to the +honest finder." + +"You gave me a bogus bill," said the man. + +"It's what I use myself," said Dick. + +"You've swindled me." + +"I thought it was the other way." + +"None of your nonsense," said the man angrily. "If you don't give up +that pocket-book, I'll call a policeman." + +"I wish you would," said Dick. "They'll know most likely whether +it's Stewart or Astor that's lost the pocket-book, and I can get 'em +to return it." + +The "dropper," whose object it was to recover the pocket-book, in +order to try the same game on a more satisfactory customer, was +irritated by Dick's refusal, and above all by the coolness he +displayed. He resolved to make one more attempt. + +"Do you want to pass the night in the Tombs?" he asked. + +"Thank you for your very obligin' proposal," said Dick; "but it aint +convenient to-day. Any other time, when you'd like to have me come +and stop with you, I'm agreeable; but my two youngest children is +down with the measles, and I expect I'll have to set up all night +to take care of 'em. Is the Tombs, in gineral, a pleasant place of +residence?" + +Dick asked this question with an air of so much earnestness that +Frank could scarcely forbear laughing, though it is hardly necessary +to say that the dropper was by no means so inclined. + +"You'll know sometime," he said, scowling. + +"I'll make you a fair offer" said Dick. "If I get more'n fifty +dollars as a reward for my honesty, I'll divide with you. But I say, +aint it most time to go back to your sick family in Boston?" + +Finding that nothing was to be made out of Dick, the man strode away +with a muttered curse. + +"You were too smart for him, Dick," said Frank. + +"Yes," said Dick, "I aint knocked round the city streets all my life +for nothin'." + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +DICK'S EARLY HISTORY + + +"Have you always lived in New York, Dick?" asked Frank, after +a pause. + +"Ever since I can remember." + +"I wish you'd tell me a little about yourself. Have you got +any father or mother?" + +"I aint got no mother. She died when I wasn't but three years old. +My father went to sea; but he went off before mother died, and +nothin' was ever heard of him. I expect he got wrecked, or died +at sea." + +"And what became of you when your mother died?" + +"The folks she boarded with took care of me, but they was poor, and +they couldn't do much. When I was seven the woman died, and her +husband went out West, and then I had to scratch for myself." + +"At seven years old!" exclaimed Frank, in amazement. + +"Yes," said Dick, "I was a little feller to take care of myself, +but," he continued with pardonable pride, "I did it." + +"What could you do?" + +"Sometimes one thing, and sometimes another," said Dick. "I changed +my business accordin' as I had to. Sometimes I was a newsboy, and +diffused intelligence among the masses, as I heard somebody say once +in a big speech he made in the Park. Them was the times when Horace +Greeley and James Gordon Bennett made money." + +"Through your enterprise?" suggested Frank. + +"Yes," said Dick; "but I give it up after a while." + +"What for?" + +"Well, they didn't always put news enough in their papers, and +people wouldn't buy 'em as fast as I wanted 'em to. So one mornin' +I was stuck on a lot of Heralds, and I thought I'd make a sensation. +So I called out 'GREAT NEWS! QUEEN VICTORIA ASSASSINATED!' All my +Heralds went off like hot cakes, and I went off, too, but one of +the gentlemen what got sold remembered me, and said he'd have me +took up, and that's what made me change my business." + +"That wasn't right, Dick," said Frank. + +"I know it," said Dick; "but lots of boys does it." + +"That don't make it any better." + +"No," said Dick, "I was sort of ashamed at the time, 'specially +about one poor old gentleman,--a Englishman he was. He couldn't +help cryin' to think the queen was dead, and his hands shook when +he handed me the money for the paper." + +"What did you do next?" + +"I went into the match business," said Dick; "but it was small sales +and small profits. Most of the people I called on had just laid in +a stock, and didn't want to buy. So one cold night, when I hadn't +money enough to pay for a lodgin', I burned the last of my matches +to keep me from freezin'. But it cost too much to get warm that way, +and I couldn't keep it up." + +"You've seen hard times, Dick," said Frank, compassionately. + +"Yes," said Dick, "I've knowed what it was to be hungry and cold, +with nothin' to eat or to warm me; but there's one thing I never +could do," he added, proudly. + +"What's that?" + +"I never stole," said Dick. "It's mean and I wouldn't do it." + +"Were you ever tempted to?" + +"Lots of times. Once I had been goin' round all day, and hadn't sold +any matches, except three cents' worth early in the mornin'. With +that I bought an apple, thinkin' I should get some more bimeby. When +evenin' come I was awful hungry. I went into a baker's just to look +at the bread. It made me feel kind o' good just to look at the bread +and cakes, and I thought maybe they would give me some. I asked 'em +wouldn't they give me a loaf, and take their pay in matches. But +they said they'd got enough matches to last three months; so there +wasn't any chance for a trade. While I was standin' at the stove +warmin' me, the baker went into a back room, and I felt so hungry I +thought I would take just one loaf, and go off with it. There was +such a big pile I don't think he'd have known it." + +"But you didn't do it?" + +"No, I didn't and I was glad of it, for when the man came in ag'in, +he said he wanted some one to carry some cake to a lady in St. +Mark's Place. His boy was sick, and he hadn't no one to send; so he +told me he'd give me ten cents if I would go. My business wasn't +very pressin' just then, so I went, and when I come back, I took my +pay in bread and cakes. Didn't they taste good, though?" + +"So you didn't stay long in the match business, Dick?" + +"No, I couldn't sell enough to make it pay. Then there was some +folks that wanted me to sell cheaper to them; so I couldn't make any +profit. There was one old lady--she was rich, too, for she lived in +a big brick house--beat me down so, that I didn't make no profit at +all; but she wouldn't buy without, and I hadn't sold none that day; +so I let her have them. I don't see why rich folks should be so hard +upon a poor boy that wants to make a livin'." + +"There's a good deal of meanness in the world, I'm afraid, Dick." + +"If everybody was like you and your uncle," said Dick, "there would +be some chance for poor people. If I was rich I'd try to help 'em +along." + +"Perhaps you will be rich sometime, Dick." + +Dick shook his head. + +"I'm afraid all my wallets will be like this," said Dick, indicating +the one he had received from the dropper, "and will be full of +papers what aint of no use to anybody except the owner." + +"That depends very much on yourself, Dick," said Frank. "Stewart +wasn't always rich, you know." + +"Wasn't he?" + +"When he first came to New York as a young man he was a teacher, and +teachers are not generally very rich. At last he went into business, +starting in a small way, and worked his way up by degrees. But there +was one thing he determined in the beginning: that he would be +strictly honorable in all his dealings, and never overreach any one +for the sake of making money. If there was a chance for him, Dick, +there is a chance for you." + +"He knowed enough to be a teacher, and I'm awful ignorant," +said Dick. + +"But you needn't stay so." + +"How can I help it?" + +"Can't you learn at school?" + +"I can't go to school 'cause I've got my livin' to earn. It wouldn't +do me much good if I learned to read and write, and just as I'd got +learned I starved to death." + +"But are there no night-schools?" + +"Yes." + +"Why don't you go? I suppose you don't work in the evenings." + +"I never cared much about it," said Dick, "and that's the truth. But +since I've got to talkin' with you, I think more about it. I guess +I'll begin to go." + +"I wish you would, Dick. You'll make a smart man if you only get a +little education." + +"Do you think so?" asked Dick, doubtfully. + +"I know so. A boy who has earned his own living since he was seven +years old must have something in him. I feel very much interested in +you, Dick. You've had a hard time of it so far in life, but I think +better times are in store. I want you to do well, and I feel sure +you can if you only try." + +"You're a good fellow," said Dick, gratefully. "I'm afraid I'm a +pretty rough customer, but I aint as bad as some. I mean to turn +over a new leaf, and try to grow up 'spectable." + +"There've been a great many boys begin as low down as you, Dick, +that have grown up respectable and honored. But they had to work +pretty hard for it." + +"I'm willin' to work hard," said Dick. + +"And you must not only work hard, but work in the right way." + +"What's the right way?" + +"You began in the right way when you determined never to steal, or +do anything mean or dishonorable, however strongly tempted to do so. +That will make people have confidence in you when they come to know +you. But, in order to succeed well, you must manage to get as good +an education as you can. Until you do, you cannot get a position in +an office or counting-room, even to run errands." + +"That's so," said Dick, soberly. "I never thought how awful ignorant +I was till now." + +"That can be remedied with perseverance," said Frank. "A year will +do a great deal for you." + +"I'll go to work and see what I can do," said Dick, energetically. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A SCENE IN A THIRD AVENUE CAR + + +The boys had turned into Third Avenue, a long street, which, +commencing just below the Cooper Institute, runs out to Harlem. A +man came out of a side street, uttering at intervals a monotonous +cry which sounded like "glass puddin'." + +"Glass pudding!" repeated Frank, looking in surprised wonder at +Dick. "What does he mean?" + +"Perhaps you'd like some," said Dick. + +"I never heard of it before." + +"Suppose you ask him what he charges for his puddin'." + +Frank looked more narrowly at the man, and soon concluded that he +was a glazier. + +"Oh, I understand," he said. "He means 'glass put in.'" + +Frank's mistake was not a singular one. The monotonous cry of these +men certainly sounds more like "glass puddin'," than the words they +intend to utter. + +"Now," said Dick, "where shall we go?" + +"I should like to see Central Park," said Frank. "Is it far off?" + +"It is about a mile and a half from here," said Dick. "This is +Twenty-ninth Street, and the Park begins at Fifty-ninth Street." + +It may be explained, for the benefit of readers who have never +visited New York, that about a mile from the City Hall the +cross-streets begin to be numbered in regular order. There is a +continuous line of houses as far as One Hundred and Thirtieth +Street, where may be found the terminus of the Harlem line of +horse-cars. When the entire island is laid out and settled, probably +the numbers will reach two hundred or more. Central Park, which lies +between Fifty-ninth Street on the south, and One Hundred and Tenth +Street on the north, is true to its name, occupying about the centre +of the island. The distance between two parallel streets is called a +block, and twenty blocks make a mile. It will therefore be seen that +Dick was exactly right, when he said they were a mile and a half +from Central Park. + +"That is too far to walk," said Frank. + +"'Twon't cost but six cents to ride," said Dick. + +"You mean in the horse-cars?" + +"Yes." + +"All right then. We'll jump aboard the next car." + +The Third Avenue and Harlem line of horse-cars is better patronized +than any other in New York, though not much can be said for the +cars, which are usually dirty and overcrowded. Still, when it is +considered that only seven cents are charged for the entire distance +to Harlem, about seven miles from the City Hall, the fare can hardly +be complained of. But of course most of the profit is made from the +way-passengers who only ride a short distance. + +A car was at that moment approaching, but it seemed pretty crowded. + +"Shall we take that, or wait for another?" asked Frank. + +"The next'll most likely be as bad," said Dick. + +The boys accordingly signalled to the conductor to stop, and got +on the front platform. They were obliged to stand up till the car +reached Fortieth Street, when so many of the passengers had got off +that they obtained seats. + +Frank sat down beside a middle-aged woman, or lady, as she probably +called herself, whose sharp visage and thin lips did not seem to +promise a very pleasant disposition. When the two gentlemen who sat +beside her arose, she spread her skirts in the endeavor to fill two +seats. Disregarding this, the boys sat down. + +"There aint room for two," she said, looking sourly at Frank. + +"There were two here before." + +"Well, there ought not to have been. Some people like to crowd in +where they're not wanted." + +"And some like to take up a double allowance of room," thought +Frank; but he did not say so. He saw that the woman had a bad +temper, and thought it wisest to say nothing. + +Frank had never ridden up the city as far as this, and it was with +much interest that he looked out of the car windows at the stores on +either side. Third Avenue is a broad street, but in the character +of its houses and stores it is quite inferior to Broadway, though +better than some of the avenues further east. Fifth Avenue, as most +of my readers already know, is the finest street in the city, being +lined with splendid private residences, occupied by the wealthier +classes. Many of the cross streets also boast houses which may be +considered palaces, so elegant are they externally and internally. +Frank caught glimpses of some of these as he was carried towards the +Park. + +After the first conversation, already mentioned, with the lady at +his side, he supposed he should have nothing further to do with her. +But in this he was mistaken. While he was busy looking out of the +car window, she plunged her hand into her pocket in search of her +purse, which she was unable to find. Instantly she jumped to the +conclusion that it had been stolen, and her suspicions fastened upon +Frank, with whom she was already provoked for "crowding her," as she +termed it. + +"Conductor!" she exclaimed in a sharp voice. + +"What's wanted, ma'am?" returned that functionary. + +"I want you to come here right off." + +"What's the matter?" + +"My purse has been stolen. There was four dollars and eighty cents +in it. I know, because I counted it when I paid my fare." + +"Who stole it?" + +"That boy," she said pointing to Frank, who listened to the charge +in the most intense astonishment. "He crowded in here on purpose to +rob me, and I want you to search him right off." + +"That's a lie!" exclaimed Dick, indignantly. + +"Oh, you're in league with him, I dare say," said the woman +spitefully. "You're as bad as he is, I'll be bound." + +"You're a nice female, you be!" said Dick, ironically. + +"Don't you dare to call me a female, sir," said the lady, furiously. + +"Why, you aint a man in disguise, be you?" said Dick. + +"You are very much mistaken, madam," said Frank, quietly. "The +conductor may search me, if you desire it." + +A charge of theft, made in a crowded car, of course made quite a +sensation. Cautious passengers instinctively put their hands on +their pockets, to make sure that they, too, had not been robbed. +As for Frank, his face flushed, and he felt very indignant that he +should even be suspected of so mean a crime. He had been carefully +brought up, and been taught to regard stealing as low and wicked. + +Dick, on the contrary, thought it a capital joke that such a charge +should have been made against his companion. Though he had brought +himself up, and known plenty of boys and men, too, who would steal, +he had never done so himself. He thought it mean. But he could not +be expected to regard it as Frank did. He had been too familiar with +it in others to look upon it with horror. + +Meanwhile the passengers rather sided with the boys. Appearances go +a great ways, and Frank did not look like a thief. + +"I think you must be mistaken, madam," said a gentleman sitting +opposite. "The lad does not look as if he would steal." + +"You can't tell by looks," said the lady, sourly. "They're +deceitful; villains are generally well dressed." + +"Be they?" said Dick. "You'd ought to see me with my Washington coat +on. You'd think I was the biggest villain ever you saw." + +"I've no doubt you are," said the lady, scowling in the direction of +our hero. + +"Thank you, ma'am," said Dick. "'Tisn't often I get such fine +compliments." + +"None of your impudence," said the lady, wrathfully. "I believe +you're the worst of the two." + +Meanwhile the car had been stopped. + +"How long are we going to stop here?" demanded a passenger, +impatiently. "I'm in a hurry, if none of the rest of you are." + +"I want my pocket-book," said the lady, defiantly. + +"Well, ma'am, I haven't got it, and I don't see as it's doing you +any good detaining us all here." + +"Conductor, will you call a policeman to search that young scamp?" +continued the aggrieved lady. "You don't expect I'm going to lose my +money, and do nothing about it." + +"I'll turn my pockets inside out if you want me to," said Frank, +proudly. "There's no need of a policeman. The conductor, or any one +else, may search me." + +"Well, youngster," said the conductor, "if the lady agrees, I'll +search you." + +The lady signified her assent. + +Frank accordingly turned his pockets inside out, but nothing was +revealed except his own porte-monnaie and a penknife. + +"Well, ma'am, are you satisfied?" asked the conductor. + +"No, I aint," said she, decidedly. + +"You don't think he's got it still?" + +"No, but he's passed it over to his confederate, that boy there +that's so full of impudence." + +"That's me," said Dick, comically. + +"He confesses it," said the lady; "I want him searched." + +"All right," said Dick, "I'm ready for the operation, only, as I've +got valooable property about me, be careful not to drop any of my +Erie Bonds." + +The conductor's hand forthwith dove into Dick's pocket, and drew out +a rusty jack-knife, a battered cent, about fifty cents in change, +and the capacious pocket-book which he had received from the +swindler who was anxious to get back to his sick family in Boston. + +"Is that yours, ma'am?" asked the conductor, holding up the wallet +which excited some amazement, by its size, among the other +passengers. + +"It seems to me you carry a large pocket-book for a young man of +your age," said the conductor. + +"That's what I carry my cash and valooable papers in," said Dick. + +"I suppose that isn't yours, ma'am," said the conductor, turning to +the lady. + +"No," said she, scornfully. "I wouldn't carry round such a great +wallet as that. Most likely he's stolen it from somebody else." + +"What a prime detective you'd be!" said Dick. "P'rhaps you know who +I took it from." + +"I don't know but my money's in it," said the lady, sharply. +"Conductor, will you open that wallet, and see what there is in it?" + +"Don't disturb the valooable papers," said Dick, in a tone of +pretended anxiety. + +The contents of the wallet excited some amusement among the +passengers. + +"There don't seem to be much money here," said the conductor, taking +out a roll of tissue paper cut out in the shape of bills, and rolled +up. + +"No," said Dick. "Didn't I tell you them were papers of no valoo to +anybody but the owner? If the lady'd like to borrow, I won't charge +no interest." + +"Where is my money, then?" said the lady, in some discomfiture. "I +shouldn't wonder if one of the young scamps had thrown it out of the +window." + +"You'd better search your pocket once more," said the gentleman +opposite. "I don't believe either of the boys is in fault. They +don't look to me as if they would steal." + +"Thank you, sir," said Frank. + +The lady followed out the suggestion, and, plunging her hand once +more into her pocket, drew out a small porte-monnaie. She hardly +knew whether to be glad or sorry at this discovery. It placed her +in rather an awkward position after the fuss she had made, and the +detention to which she had subjected the passengers, now, as it +proved, for nothing. + +"Is that the pocket-book you thought stolen?" asked the conductor. + +"Yes," said she, rather confusedly. + +"Then you've been keeping me waiting all this time for nothing," he +said, sharply. "I wish you'd take care to be sure next time before +you make such a disturbance for nothing. I've lost five minutes, and +shall not be on time." + +"I can't help it," was the cross reply; "I didn't know it was in my +pocket." + +"It seems to me you owe an apology to the boys you accused of a +theft which they have not committed," said the gentleman opposite. + +"I shan't apologize to anybody," said the lady, whose temper was not +of the best; "least of all to such whipper-snappers as they are." + +"Thank you, ma'am," said Dick, comically; "your handsome apology is +accepted. It aint of no consequence, only I didn't like to expose +the contents of my valooable pocket-book, for fear it might excite +the envy of some of my poor neighbors." + +"You're a character," said the gentleman who had already spoken, +with a smile. + +"A bad character!" muttered the lady. + +But it was quite evident that the sympathies of those present were +against the lady, and on the side of the boys who had been falsely +accused, while Dick's drollery had created considerable amusement. + +The cars had now reached Fifty-ninth Street, the southern boundary +of the Park, and here our hero and his companion got off. + +"You'd better look out for pickpockets, my lad," said the conductor, +pleasantly. "That big wallet of yours might prove a great +temptation." + +"That's so," said Dick. "That's the misfortin' of being rich. Astor +and me don't sleep much for fear of burglars breakin' in and robbin' +us of our valooable treasures. Sometimes I think I'll give all my +money to an Orphan Asylum, and take it out in board. I guess I'd +make money by the operation." + +While Dick was speaking, the car rolled away, and the boys turned +up Fifty-ninth Street, for two long blocks yet separated them from +the Park. + + + +CHAPTER X + +INTRODUCES A VICTIM OF MISPLACED CONFIDENCE + + +"What a queer chap you are, Dick!" said Frank, laughing. "You always +seem to be in good spirits." + +"No, I aint always. Sometimes I have the blues." + +"When?" + +"Well, once last winter it was awful cold, and there was big holes +in my shoes, and my gloves and all my warm clothes was at the +tailor's. I felt as if life was sort of tough, and I'd like it if +some rich man would adopt me, and give me plenty to eat and drink +and wear, without my havin' to look so sharp after it. Then agin' +when I've seen boys with good homes, and fathers, and mothers, I've +thought I'd like to have somebody to care for me." + +Dick's tone changed as he said this, from his usual levity, and +there was a touch of sadness in it. Frank, blessed with a good home +and indulgent parents, could not help pitying the friendless boy who +had found life such up-hill work. + +"Don't say you have no one to care for you, Dick," he said, lightly +laying his hand on Dick's shoulder. "I will care for you." + +"Will you?" + +"If you will let me." + +"I wish you would," said Dick, earnestly. "I'd like to feel that I +have one friend who cares for me." + +Central Park was now before them, but it was far from presenting +the appearance which it now exhibits. It had not been long since +work had been commenced upon it, and it was still very rough and +unfinished. A rough tract of land, two miles and a half from north +to south, and a half a mile broad, very rocky in parts, was the +material from which the Park Commissioners have made the present +beautiful enclosure. There were no houses of good appearance near +it, buildings being limited mainly to rude temporary huts used by +the workmen who were employed in improving it. The time will +undoubtedly come when the Park will be surrounded by elegant +residences, and compare favorably in this respect with the most +attractive parts of any city in the world. But at the time when +Frank and Dick visited it, not much could be said in favor either +of the Park or its neighborhood. + +"If this is Central Park," said Frank, who naturally felt +disappointed, "I don't think much of it. My father's got a large +pasture that is much nicer." + +"It'll look better some time," said Dick. "There aint much to see +now but rocks. We will take a walk over it if you want to." + +"No," said Frank, "I've seen as much of it as I want to. Besides, I +feel tired." + +"Then we'll go back. We can take the Sixth Avenue cars. They will +bring us out at Vesey Street just beside the Astor House." + +"All right," said Frank. "That will be the best course. I hope," he +added, laughing, "our agreeable lady friend won't be there. I don't +care about being accused of _stealing_ again." + +"She was a tough one," said Dick. "Wouldn't she make a nice wife for +a man that likes to live in hot water, and didn't mind bein' scalded +two or three times a day?" + +"Yes, I think she'd just suit him. Is that the right car, Dick?" + +"Yes, jump in, and I'll follow." + +The Sixth Avenue is lined with stores, many of them of very good +appearance, and would make a very respectable principal street for a +good-sized city. But it is only one of several long business streets +which run up the island, and illustrate the extent and importance of +the city to which they belong. + +No incidents worth mentioning took place during their ride down +town. In about three-quarters of an hour the boys got out of the car +beside the Astor House. + +"Are you goin' in now, Frank?" asked Dick. + +"That depends upon whether you have anything else to show me." + +"Wouldn't you like to go to Wall Street?" + +"That's the street where there are so many bankers and brokers,--isn't +it?" + +"Yes, I s'pose you aint afraid of bulls and bears,--are you?" + +"Bulls and bears?" repeated Frank, puzzled. + +"Yes." + +"What are they?" + +"The bulls is what tries to make the stocks go up, and the bears is +what try to growl 'em down." + +"Oh, I see. Yes, I'd like to go." + +Accordingly they walked down on the west side of Broadway as far as +Trinity Church, and then, crossing, entered a street not very wide +or very long, but of very great importance. The reader would be +astonished if he could know the amount of money involved in the +transactions which take place in a single day in this street. It +would be found that although Broadway is much greater in length, and +lined with stores, it stands second to Wall Street in this respect. + +"What is that large marble building?" asked Frank, pointing to a +massive structure on the corner of Wall and Nassau Streets. It was +in the form of a parallelogram, two hundred feet long by ninety +wide, and about eighty feet in height, the ascent to the entrance +being by eighteen granite steps. + +"That's the Custom House," said Dick. + +"It looks like pictures I've seen of the Parthenon at Athens," said +Frank, meditatively. + +"Where's Athens?" asked Dick. "It aint in York State,--is it?" + +"Not the Athens I mean, at any rate. It is in Greece, and was a +famous city two thousand years ago." + +"That's longer than I can remember," said Dick. "I can't remember +distinctly more'n about a thousand years." + +"What a chap you are, Dick! Do you know if we can go in?" + +The boys ascertained, after a little inquiry, that they would be +allowed to do so. They accordingly entered the Custom House and made +their way up to the roof, from which they had a fine view of the +harbor, the wharves crowded with shipping, and the neighboring +shores of Long Island and New Jersey. Towards the north they looked +down for many miles upon continuous lines of streets, and thousands +of roofs, with here and there a church-spire rising above its +neighbors. Dick had never before been up there, and he, as well as +Frank, was interested in the grand view spread before them. + +At length they descended, and were going down the granite steps on +the outside of the building, when they were addressed by a young +man, whose appearance is worth describing. + +He was tall, and rather loosely put together, with small eyes and +rather a prominent nose. His clothing had evidently not been +furnished by a city tailor. He wore a blue coat with brass buttons, +and pantaloons of rather scanty dimensions, which were several +inches too short to cover his lower limbs. He held in his hand a +piece of paper, and his countenance wore a look of mingled +bewilderment and anxiety. + +"Be they a-payin' out money inside there?" he asked, indicating the +interior by a motion of his hand. + +"I guess so," said Dick. "Are you a-goin' in for some?" + +"Wal, yes. I've got an order here for sixty dollars,--made a kind of +speculation this morning." + +"How was it?" asked Frank. + +"Wal, you see I brought down some money to put in the bank, fifty +dollars it was, and I hadn't justly made up my mind what bank to put +it into, when a chap came up in a terrible hurry, and said it was +very unfortunate, but the bank wasn't open, and he must have some +money right off. He was obliged to go out of the city by the next +train. I asked him how much he wanted. He said fifty dollars. I told +him I'd got that, and he offered me a check on the bank for sixty, +and I let him have it. I thought that was a pretty easy way to earn +ten dollars, so I counted out the money and he went off. He told +me I'd hear a bell ring when they began to pay out money. But I've +waited most two hours, and I haint heard it yet. I'd ought to be +goin', for I told dad I'd be home to-night. Do you think I can get +the money now?" + +"Will you show me the check?" asked Frank, who had listened +attentively to the countryman's story, and suspected that he had +been made the victim of a swindler. It was made out upon the +"Washington Bank," in the sum of sixty dollars, and was signed +"Ephraim Smith." + +"Washington Bank!" repeated Frank. "Dick, is there such a bank in +the city?" + +"Not as I knows on," said Dick. "Leastways I don't own any shares +in it." + +"Aint this the Washington Bank?" asked the countryman, pointing to +the building on the steps of which the three were now standing. + +"No, it's the Custom House." + +"And won't they give me any money for this?" asked the young man, +the perspiration standing on his brow. + +"I am afraid the man who gave it to you was a swindler," said +Frank, gently. + +"And won't I ever see my fifty dollars again?" asked the youth in +agony. + +"I am afraid not." + +"What'll dad say?" ejaculated the miserable youth. "It makes me feel +sick to think of it. I wish I had the feller here. I'd shake him out +of his boots." + +"What did he look like? I'll call a policeman and you shall describe +him. Perhaps in that way you can get track of your money." + +Dick called a policeman, who listened to the description, and +recognized the operator as an experienced swindler. He assured the +countryman that there was very little chance of his ever seeing his +money again. The boys left the miserable youth loudly bewailing his +bad luck, and proceeded on their way down the street. + +"He's a baby," said Dick, contemptuously. "He'd ought to know how to +take care of himself and his money. A feller has to look sharp in +this city, or he'll lose his eye-teeth before he knows it." + +"I suppose you never got swindled out of fifty dollars, Dick?" + +"No, I don't carry no such small bills. I wish I did," he added. + +"So do I, Dick. What's that building there at the end of the street?" + +"That's the Wall-Street Ferry to Brooklyn." + +"How long does it take to go across?" + +"Not more'n five minutes." + +"Suppose we just ride over and back." + +"All right!" said Dick. "It's rather expensive; but if you don't +mind, I don't." + +"Why, how much does it cost?" + +"Two cents apiece." + +"I guess I can stand that. Let us go." + +They passed the gate, paying the fare to a man who stood at the +entrance, and were soon on the ferry-boat, bound for Brooklyn. + +They had scarcely entered the boat, when Dick, grasping Frank +by the arm, pointed to a man just outside of the gentlemen's cabin. + +"Do you see that man, Frank?" he inquired. + +"Yes, what of him?" + +"He's the man that cheated the country chap out of his fifty dollars." + + + +CHAPTER XI + +DICK AS A DETECTIVE + + +Dick's ready identification of the rogue who had cheated the +countryman, surprised Frank. + +"What makes you think it is he?" he asked. + +"Because I've seen him before, and I know he's up to them kind of +tricks. When I heard how he looked, I was sure I knowed him." + +"Our recognizing him won't be of much use," said Frank. "It won't +give back the countryman his money." + +"I don't know," said Dick, thoughtfully. "May be I can get it." + +"How?" asked Frank, incredulously. + +"Wait a minute, and you'll see." + +Dick left his companion, and went up to the man whom he suspected. + +"Ephraim Smith," said Dick, in a low voice. + +The man turned suddenly, and looked at Dick uneasily. + +"What did you say?" he asked. + +"I believe your name is Ephraim Smith," continued Dick. + +"You're mistaken," said the man, and was about to move off. + +"Stop a minute," said Dick. "Don't you keep your money in the +Washington Bank?" + +"I don't know any such bank. I'm in a hurry, young man, and I can't +stop to answer any foolish questions." + +The boat had by this time reached the Brooklyn pier, and Mr. Ephraim +Smith seemed in a hurry to land. + +"Look here," said Dick, significantly; "you'd better not go on shore +unless you want to jump into the arms of a policeman." + +"What do you mean?" asked the man, startled. + +"That little affair of yours is known to the police," said Dick; +"about how you got fifty dollars out of a greenhorn on a false +check, and it mayn't be safe for you to go ashore." + +"I don't know what you're talking about," said the swindler with +affected boldness, though Dick could see that he was ill at ease. + +"Yes you do," said Dick. "There isn't but one thing to do. Just give +me back that money, and I'll see that you're not touched. If you +don't, I'll give you up to the first p'liceman we meet." + +Dick looked so determined, and spoke so confidently, that the other, +overcome by his fears, no longer hesitated, but passed a roll of +bills to Dick and hastily left the boat. + +All this Frank witnessed with great amazement, not understanding +what influence Dick could have obtained over the swindler sufficient +to compel restitution. + +"How did you do it?" he asked eagerly. + +"I told him I'd exert my influence with the president to have him +tried by _habeas corpus_," said Dick. + +"And of course that frightened him. But tell me, without joking, how +you managed." + +Dick gave a truthful account of what occurred, and then said, "Now +we'll go back and carry the money." + +"Suppose we don't find the poor countryman?" + +"Then the p'lice will take care of it." + +They remained on board the boat, and in five minutes were again in +New York. Going up Wall Street, they met the countryman a little +distance from the Custom House. His face was marked with the traces +of deep anguish; but in his case even grief could not subdue the +cravings of appetite. He had purchased some cakes of one of the old +women who spread out for the benefit of passers-by an array of +apples and seed-cakes, and was munching them with melancholy +satisfaction. + +"Hilloa!" said Dick. "Have you found your money?" + +"No," ejaculated the young man, with a convulsive gasp. "I shan't +ever see it again. The mean skunk's cheated me out of it. Consarn +his picter! It took me most six months to save it up. I was workin' +for Deacon Pinkham in our place. Oh, I wish I'd never come to New +York! The deacon, he told me he'd keep it for me; but I wanted to +put it in the bank, and now it's all gone, boo hoo!" + +And the miserable youth, having despatched his cakes, was so +overcome by the thought of his loss that he burst into tears. + +"I say," said Dick, "dry up, and see what I've got here." + +The youth no sooner saw the roll of bills, and comprehended that it +was indeed his lost treasure, than from the depths of anguish he was +exalted to the most ecstatic joy. He seized Dick's hand, and shook +it with so much energy that our hero began to feel rather alarmed +for its safety. + +"'Pears to me you take my arm for a pump-handle," said he. "Couldn't +you show your gratitood some other way? It's just possible I may +want to use my arm ag'in some time." + +The young man desisted, but invited Dick most cordially to come up +and stop a week with him at his country home, assuring him that he +wouldn't charge him anything for board. + +"All right!" said Dick. "If you don't mind I'll bring my wife along, +too. She's delicate, and the country air might do her good." + +Jonathan stared at him in amazement, uncertain whether to credit the +fact of his marriage. Dick walked on with Frank, leaving him in an +apparent state of stupefaction, and it is possible that he has not +yet settled the affair to his satisfaction. + +"Now," said Frank, "I think I'll go back to the Astor House. Uncle +has probably got through his business and returned." + +"All right," said Dick. + +The two boys walked up to Broadway, just where the tall steeple of +Trinity faces the street of bankers and brokers, and walked +leisurely to the hotel. When they arrived at the Astor House, Dick +said, "Good-by, Frank." + +"Not yet," said Frank; "I want you to come in with me." + +Dick followed his young patron up the steps. Frank went to the +reading-room, where, as he had thought probable, he found his uncle +already arrived, and reading a copy of "The Evening Post," which he +had just purchased outside. + +"Well, boys," he said, looking up, "have you had a pleasant jaunt?" + +"Yes, sir," said Frank. "Dick's a capital guide." + +"So this is Dick," said Mr. Whitney, surveying him with a smile. +"Upon my word, I should hardly have known him. I must congratulate +him on his improved appearance." + +"Frank's been very kind to me," said Dick, who, rough street-boy as +he was, had a heart easily touched by kindness, of which he had +never experienced much. "He's a tip-top fellow." + +"I believe he is a good boy," said Mr. Whitney. "I hope, my lad, you +will prosper and rise in the world. You know in this free country +poverty in early life is no bar to a man's advancement. I haven't +risen very high myself," he added, with a smile, "but have met with +moderate success in life; yet there was a time when I was as poor as +you." + +"Were you, sir," asked Dick, eagerly. + +"Yes, my boy, I have known the time I have been obliged to go +without my dinner because I didn't have enough money to pay for it." + +"How did you get up in the world," asked Dick, anxiously. + +"I entered a printing-office as an apprentice, and worked for some +years. Then my eyes gave out and I was obliged to give that up. Not +knowing what else to do, I went into the country, and worked on a +farm. After a while I was lucky enough to invent a machine, which +has brought me in a great deal of money. But there was one thing I +got while I was in the printing-office which I value more than +money." + +"What was that, sir?" + +"A taste for reading and study. During my leisure hours I improved +myself by study, and acquired a large part of the knowledge which I +now possess. Indeed, it was one of my books that first put me on the +track of the invention, which I afterwards made. So you see, my lad, +that my studious habits paid me in money, as well as in another +way." + +"I'm awful ignorant," said Dick, soberly. + +"But you are young, and, I judge, a smart boy. If you try to learn, +you can, and if you ever expect to do anything in the world, you +must know something of books." + +"I will," said Dick, resolutely. "I aint always goin' to black boots +for a livin'." + +"All labor is respectable, my lad, and you have no cause to be +ashamed of any honest business; yet when you can get something to do +that promises better for your future prospects, I advise you to do +so. Till then earn your living in the way you are accustomed to, +avoid extravagance, and save up a little money if you can." + +"Thank you for your advice," said our hero. "There aint many that +takes an interest in Ragged Dick." + +"So that's your name," said Mr. Whitney. "If I judge you rightly, +it won't be long before you change it. Save your money, my lad, +buy books, and determine to be somebody, and you may yet fill an +honorable position." + +"I'll try," said Dick. "Good-night, sir." + +"Wait a minute, Dick," said Frank. "Your blacking-box and old +clothes are upstairs. You may want them." + +"In course," said Dick. "I couldn't get along without my best +clothes, and my stock in trade." + +"You may go up to the room with him, Frank," said Mr. Whitney. "The +clerk will give you the key. I want to see you, Dick, before you +go." + +"Yes, sir," said Dick. + +"Where are you going to sleep to-night, Dick?" asked Frank, as they +went upstairs together. + +"P'r'aps at the Fifth Avenue Hotel--on the outside," said Dick. + +"Haven't you any place to sleep, then?" + +"I slept in a box, last night." + +"In a box?" + +"Yes, on Spruce Street." + +"Poor fellow!" said Frank, compassionately. + +"Oh, 'twas a bully bed--full of straw! I slept like a top." + +"Don't you earn enough to pay for a room, Dick?" + +"Yes," said Dick; "only I spend my money foolish, goin' to the Old +Bowery, and Tony Pastor's, and sometimes gamblin' in Baxter Street." + +"You won't gamble any more,--will you, Dick?" said Frank, laying his +hand persuasively on his companion's shoulder. + +"No, I won't," said Dick. + +"You'll promise?" + +"Yes, and I'll keep it. You're a good feller. I wish you was goin' +to be in New York." + +"I am going to a boarding-school in Connecticut. The name of the +town is Barnton. Will you write to me, Dick?" + +"My writing would look like hens' tracks," said our hero. + +"Never mind. I want you to write. When you write you can tell me how +to direct, and I will send you a letter." + +"I wish you would," said Dick. "I wish I was more like you." + +"I hope you will make a much better boy, Dick. Now we'll go in to my +uncle. He wishes to see you before you go." + +They went into the reading-room. Dick had wrapped up his +blacking-brush in a newspaper with which Frank had supplied him, +feeling that a guest of the Astor House should hardly be seen +coming out of the hotel displaying such a professional sign. + +"Uncle, Dick's ready to go," said Frank. + +"Good-by, my lad," said Mr. Whitney. "I hope to hear good accounts +of you sometime. Don't forget what I have told you. Remember that +your future position depends mainly upon yourself, and that it will +be high or low as you choose to make it." + +He held out his hand, in which was a five-dollar bill. Dick shrunk +back. + +"I don't like to take it," he said. "I haven't earned it." + +"Perhaps not," said Mr. Whitney; "but I give it to you because I +remember my own friendless youth. I hope it may be of service to +you. Sometime when you are a prosperous man, you can repay it in the +form of aid to some poor boy, who is struggling upward as you are +now." + +"I will, sir," said Dick, manfully. + +He no longer refused the money, but took it gratefully, and, bidding +Frank and his uncle good-by, went out into the street. A feeling of +loneliness came over him as he left the presence of Frank, for whom +he had formed a strong attachment in the few hours he had known him. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +DICK HIRES A ROOM ON MOTT STREET + + +Going out into the fresh air Dick felt the pangs of hunger. He +accordingly went to a restaurant and got a substantial supper. +Perhaps it was the new clothes he wore, which made him feel a +little more aristocratic. At all events, instead of patronizing the +cheap restaurant where he usually procured his meals, he went into +the refectory attached to Lovejoy's Hotel, where the prices were +higher and the company more select. In his ordinary dress, Dick +would have been excluded, but now he had the appearance of a very +respectable, gentlemanly boy, whose presence would not discredit +any establishment. His orders were therefore received with attention +by the waiter and in due time a good supper was placed before him. + +"I wish I could come here every day," thought Dick. "It seems kind +o' nice and 'spectable, side of the other place. There's a gent at +that other table that I've shined boots for more'n once. He don't +know me in my new clothes. Guess he don't know his boot-black +patronizes the same establishment." + +His supper over, Dick went up to the desk, and, presenting his +check, tendered in payment his five-dollar bill, as if it were one +of a large number which he possessed. Receiving back his change he +went out into the street. + +Two questions now arose: How should he spend the evening, and where +should he pass the night? Yesterday, with such a sum of money in his +possession, he would have answered both questions readily. For the +evening, he would have passed it at the Old Bowery, and gone to +sleep in any out-of-the-way place that offered. But he had turned +over a new leaf, or resolved to do so. He meant to save his money +for some useful purpose,--to aid his advancement in the world. So he +could not afford the theatre. Besides, with his new clothes, he was +unwilling to pass the night out of doors. + +"I should spile 'em," he thought, "and that wouldn't pay." + +So he determined to hunt up a room which he could occupy regularly, +and consider as his own, where he could sleep nights, instead of +depending on boxes and old wagons for a chance shelter. This would +be the first step towards respectability, and Dick determined to +take it. + +He accordingly passed through the City Hall Park, and walked +leisurely up Centre Street. + +He decided that it would hardly be advisable for him to seek +lodgings in Fifth Avenue, although his present cash capital +consisted of nearly five dollars in money, besides the valuable +papers contained in his wallet. Besides, he had reason to doubt +whether any in his line of business lived on that aristocratic +street. He took his way to Mott Street, which is considerably less +pretentious, and halted in front of a shabby brick lodging-house +kept by a Mrs. Mooney, with whose son Tom, Dick was acquainted. + +Dick rang the bell, which sent back a shrill metallic response. + +The door was opened by a slatternly servant, who looked at him +inquiringly, and not without curiosity. It must be remembered that +Dick was well dressed, and that nothing in his appearance bespoke +his occupation. Being naturally a good-looking boy, he might readily +be mistaken for a gentleman's son. + +"Well, Queen Victoria," said Dick, "is your missus at home?" + +"My name's Bridget," said the girl. + +"Oh, indeed!" said Dick. "You looked so much like the queen's picter +what she gave me last Christmas in exchange for mine, that I +couldn't help calling you by her name." + +"Oh, go along wid ye!" said Bridget. "It's makin' fun ye are." + +"If you don't believe me," said Dick, gravely, "all you've got to do +is to ask my partic'lar friend, the Duke of Newcastle." + +"Bridget!" called a shrill voice from the basement. + +"The missus is calling me," said Bridget, hurriedly. "I'll tell her +ye want her." + +"All right!" said Dick. + +The servant descended into the lower regions, and in a short time a +stout, red-faced woman appeared on the scene. + +"Well, sir, what's your wish?" she asked. + +"Have you got a room to let?" asked Dick. + +"Is it for yourself you ask?" questioned the woman, in some surprise. + +Dick answered in the affirmative. + +"I haven't got any very good rooms vacant. There's a small room in +the third story." + +"I'd like to see it," said Dick. + +"I don't know as it would be good enough for you," said the woman, +with a glance at Dick's clothes. + +"I aint very partic'lar about accommodations," said our hero. "I +guess I'll look at it." + +Dick followed the landlady up two narrow stair-cases, uncarpeted +and dirty, to the third landing, where he was ushered into a room +about ten feet square. It could not be considered a very desirable +apartment. It had once been covered with an oilcloth carpet, but +this was now very ragged, and looked worse than none. There was a +single bed in the corner, covered with an indiscriminate heap of +bed-clothing, rumpled and not over-clean. There was a bureau, with +the veneering scratched and in some parts stripped off, and a small +glass, eight inches by ten, cracked across the middle; also two +chairs in rather a disjointed condition. Judging from Dick's +appearance, Mrs. Mooney thought he would turn from it in disdain. + +But it must be remembered that Dick's past experience had not been +of a character to make him fastidious. In comparison with a box, or +an empty wagon, even this little room seemed comfortable. He decided +to hire it if the rent proved reasonable. + +"Well, what's the tax?" asked Dick. + +"I ought to have a dollar a week," said Mrs. Mooney, hesitatingly. + +"Say seventy-five cents, and I'll take it," said Dick. + +"Every week in advance?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, as times is hard, and I can't afford to keep it empty, you +may have it. When will you come?" + +"To-night," said Dick. + +"It aint lookin' very neat. I don't know as I can fix it up +to-night." + +"Well, I'll sleep here to-night, and you can fix it up to-morrow." + +"I hope you'll excuse the looks. I'm a lone woman, and my help is so +shiftless, I have to look after everythilng myself; so I can't keep +things as straight as I want to." + +"All right!" said Dick. + +"Can you pay me the first week in advance?" asked the landlady, +cautiously. + +Dick responded by drawing seventy-five cents from his pocket, and +placing it in her hand. + +"What's your business, sir, if I may inquire?" said Mrs. Mooney. + +"Oh, I'm professional!" said Dick. + +"Indeed!" said the landlady, who did not feel much enlightened by +this answer. + +"How's Tom?" asked Dick. + +"Do you know my Tom?" said Mrs. Mooney in surprise. "He's gone to +sea,--to Californy. He went last week." + +"Did he?" said Dick. "Yes, I knew him." + +Mrs. Mooney looked upon her new lodger with increased favor, on +finding that he was acquainted with her son, who, by the way, was +one of the worst young scamps in Mott Street, which is saying +considerable. + +"I'll bring over my baggage from the Astor House this evening," said +Dick in a tone of importance. + +"From the Astor House!" repeated Mrs. Mooney, in fresh amazement. + +"Yes, I've been stoppin' there a short time with some friends," said +Dick. + +Mrs. Mooney might be excused for a little amazement at finding that +a guest from the Astor House was about to become one of her +lodgers--such transfers not being common. + +"Did you say you was purfessional?" she asked. + +"Yes, ma'am," said Dick, politely. + +"You aint a--a--" Mrs. Mooney paused, uncertain what conjecture to +hazard. + +"Oh, no, nothing of the sort," said Dick, promptly. "How could you +think so, Mrs. Mooney?" + +"No offence, sir," said the landlady, more perplexed than ever. + +"Certainly not," said our hero. "But you must excuse me now, Mrs. +Mooney, as I have business of great importance to attend to." + +"You'll come round this evening?" + +Dick answered in the affirmative, and turned away. + +"I wonder what he is!" thought the landlady, following him with her +eyes as he crossed the street. "He's got good clothes on, but he +don't seem very particular about his room. Well; I've got all my +rooms full now. That's one comfort." + +Dick felt more comfortable now that he had taken the decisive step +of hiring a lodging, and paying a week's rent in advance. For seven +nights he was sure of a shelter and a bed to sleep in. The thought +was a pleasant one to our young vagrant, who hitherto had seldom +known when he rose in the morning where he should find a +resting-place at night. + +"I must bring my traps round," said Dick to himself. "I guess I'll +go to bed early to-night. It'll feel kinder good to sleep in a +reg'lar bed. Boxes is rather hard to the back, and aint comfortable +in case of rain. I wonder what Johnny Nolan would say if he knew I'd +got a room of my own." + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +MICKY MAGUIRE + + +About nine o'clock Dick sought his new lodgings. In his hands he +carried his professional wardrobe, namely, the clothes which he +had worn at the commencement of the day, and the implements of his +business. These he stowed away in the bureau drawers, and by the +light of a flickering candle took off his clothes and went to +bed. Dick had a good digestion and a reasonably good conscience; +consequently he was a good sleeper. Perhaps, too, the soft feather +bed conduced to slumber. At any rate his eyes were soon closed, +and he did not awake until half-past six the next morning. + +He lifted himself on his elbow, and stared around him in transient +bewilderment. + +"Blest if I hadn't forgot where I was," he said to himself. "So this +is my room, is it? Well, it seems kind of 'spectable to have a room +and a bed to sleep in. I'd orter be able to afford seventy-five +cents a week. I've throwed away more money than that in one evenin'. +There aint no reason why I shouldn't live 'spectable. I wish I +knowed as much as Frank. He's a tip-top feller. Nobody ever cared +enough for me before to give me good advice. It was kicks, and +cuffs, and swearin' at me all the time. I'd like to show him I can +do something." + +While Dick was indulging in these reflections, he had risen from +bed, and, finding an accession to the furniture of his room, in the +shape of an ancient wash-stand bearing a cracked bowl and broken +pitcher, indulged himself in the rather unusual ceremony of a good +wash. On the whole, Dick preferred to be clean, but it was not +always easy to gratify his desire. Lodging in the street as he had +been accustomed to do, he had had no opportunity to perform his +toilet in the customary manner. Even now he found himself unable to +arrange his dishevelled locks, having neither comb nor brush. He +determined to purchase a comb, at least, as soon as possible, and a +brush too, if he could get one cheap. Meanwhile he combed his hair +with his fingers as well as he could, though the result was not +quite so satisfactory as it might have been. + +A question now came up for consideration. For the first time in +his life Dick possessed two suits of clothes. Should he put on the +clothes Frank had given him, or resume his old rags? + +Now, twenty-four hours before, at the time Dick was introduced to +the reader's notice, no one could have been less fastidious as to +his clothing than he. Indeed, he had rather a contempt for good +clothes, or at least he thought so. But now, as he surveyed the +ragged and dirty coat and the patched pants, Dick felt ashamed of +them. He was unwilling to appear in the streets with them. Yet, if +he went to work in his new suit, he was in danger of spoiling it, +and he might not have it in his power to purchase a new one. Economy +dictated a return to the old garments. Dick tried them on, and +surveyed himself in the cracked glass; but the reflection did not +please him. + +"They don't look 'spectable," he decided; and, forthwith taking them +off again, he put on the new suit of the day before. + +"I must try to earn a little more," he thought, "to pay for my room, +and to buy some new clo'es when these is wore out." + +He opened the door of his chamber, and went downstairs and into the +street, carrying his blacking-box with him. + +It was Dick's custom to commence his business before breakfast; +generally it must be owned, because he began the day penniless, and +must earn his meal before he ate it. To-day it was different. He had +four dollars left in his pocket-book; but this he had previously +determined not to touch. In fact he had formed the ambitious +design of starting an account at a savings' bank, in order to +have something to fall back upon in case of sickness or any other +emergency, or at any rate as a reserve fund to expend in clothing or +other necessary articles when he required them. Hitherto he had been +content to live on from day to day without a penny ahead; but the +new vision of respectability which now floated before Dick's mind, +owing to his recent acquaintance with Frank, was beginning to +exercise a powerful effect upon him. + +In Dick's profession as in others there are lucky days, when +everything seems to flow prosperously. As if to encourage him in +his new-born resolution, our hero obtained no less than six jobs +in the course of an hour and a half. This gave him sixty cents, +quite abundant to purchase his breakfast, and a comb besides. His +exertions made him hungry, and, entering a small eating-house he +ordered a cup of coffee and a beefsteak. To this he added a couple +of rolls. This was quite a luxurious breakfast for Dick, and more +expensive than he was accustomed to indulge himself with. To gratify +the curiosity of my young readers, I will put down the items with +their cost,-- + + Coffee, . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 cts. + Beefsteak, . . . . . . . . . . . 15 + A couple of rolls, . . . . . . . 5 + --25 cts. + +It will thus be seen that our hero had expended nearly one-half of +his morning's earnings. Some days he had been compelled to breakfast +on five cents, and then he was forced to content himself with +a couple of apples, or cakes. But a good breakfast is a good +preparation for a busy day, and Dick sallied forth from the +restaurant lively and alert, ready to do a good stroke of business. + +Dick's change of costume was liable to lead to one result of which +he had not thought. His brother boot-blacks might think he had +grown aristocratic, and was putting on airs,--that, in fact, he was +getting above his business, and desirous to outshine his associates. +Dick had not dreamed of this, because in fact, in spite of his +new-born ambition, he entertained no such feeling. There was +nothing of what boys call "big-feeling" about him. He was a borough +democrat, using the word not politically, but in its proper sense, +and was disposed to fraternize with all whom he styled "good +fellows," without regard to their position. It may seem a little +unnecessary to some of my readers to make this explanation; but they +must remember that pride and "big-feeling" are confined to no age or +class, but may be found in boys as well as men, and in boot-blacks +as well as those of a higher rank. + +The morning being a busy time with the boot-blacks, Dick's changed +appearance had not as yet attracted much attention. But when +business slackened a little, our hero was destined to be reminded +of it. + +Among the down-town boot-blacks was one hailing from the Five +Points,--a stout, red-haired, freckled-faced boy of fourteen, +bearing the name of Micky Maguire. This boy, by his boldness +and recklessness, as well as by his personal strength, which +was considerable, had acquired an ascendency among his fellow +professionals, and had a gang of subservient followers, whom he led +on to acts of ruffianism, not unfrequently terminating in a month +or two at Blackwell's Island. Micky himself had served two terms +there; but the confinement appeared to have had very little effect +in amending his conduct, except, perhaps, in making him a little +more cautious about an encounter with the "copps," as the members +of the city police are, for some unknown reason, styled among the +Five-Point boys. + +Now Micky was proud of his strength, and of the position of leader +which it had secured him. Moreover he was democratic in his tastes, +and had a jealous hatred of those who wore good clothes and kept +their faces clean. He called it putting on airs, and resented the +implied superiority. If he had been fifteen years older, and had a +trifle more education, he would have interested himself in politics, +and been prominent at ward meetings, and a terror to respectable +voters on election day. As it was, he contented himself with being +the leader of a gang of young ruffians, over whom he wielded a +despotic power. + +Now it is only justice to Dick to say that, so far as wearing good +clothes was concerned, he had never hitherto offended the eyes of +Micky Maguire. Indeed, they generally looked as if they patronized +the same clothing establishment. On this particular morning it +chanced that Micky had not been very fortunate in a business way, +and, as a natural consequence, his temper, never very amiable, +was somewhat ruffled by the fact. He had had a very frugal +breakfast,--not because he felt abstemious, but owing to the low +state of his finances. He was walking along with one of his +particular friends, a boy nicknamed Limpy Jim, so called from a +slight peculiarity in his walk, when all at once he espied our +friend Dick in his new suit. + +"My eyes!" he exclaimed, in astonishment; "Jim, just look at Ragged +Dick. He's come into a fortun', and turned gentleman. See his new +clothes." + +"So he has," said Jim. "Where'd he get 'em, I wonder?" + +"Hooked 'em, p'raps. Let's go and stir him up a little. We don't +want no gentlemen on our beat. So he's puttin' on airs,--is he? +I'll give him a lesson." + +So saying the two boys walked up to our hero, who had not observed +them, his back being turned, and Micky Maguire gave him a smart slap +on the shoulder. + +Dick turned round quickly. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A BATTLE AND A VICTORY + + +"What's that for?" demanded Dick, turning round to see who had +struck him. + +"You're gettin' mighty fine!" said Micky Maguire, surveying Dick's +new clothes with a scornful air. + +There was something in his words and tone, which Dick, who was +disposed to stand up for his dignity, did not at all relish. + +"Well, what's the odds if I am?" he retorted. "Does it hurt you +any?" + +"See him put on airs, Jim," said Micky, turning to his companion. +"Where'd you get them clo'es?" + +"Never mind where I got 'em. Maybe the Prince of Wales gave 'em to +me." + +"Hear him, now, Jim," said Micky. "Most likely he stole 'em." + +"Stealin' aint in _my_ line." + +It might have been unconscious the emphasis which Dick placed on the +word "my." At any rate Micky chose to take offence. + +"Do you mean to say _I_ steal?" he demanded, doubling up his fist, +and advancing towards Dick in a threatening manner. + +"I don't say anything about it," answered Dick, by no means alarmed +at this hostile demonstration. "I know you've been to the Island +twice. P'r'aps 'twas to make a visit along of the Mayor and +Aldermen. Maybe you was a innocent victim of oppression. I aint a +goin' to say." + +Micky's freckled face grew red with wrath, for Dick had only stated +the truth. + +"Do you mean to insult me?" he demanded shaking the fist already +doubled up in Dick's face. "Maybe you want a lickin'?" + +"I aint partic'larly anxious to get one," said Dick, coolly. "They +don't agree with my constitution which is nat'rally delicate. I'd +rather have a good dinner than a lickin' any time." + +"You're afraid," sneered Micky. "Isn't he, Jim?" + +"In course he is." + +"P'r'aps I am," said Dick, composedly, "but it don't trouble +me much." + +"Do you want to fight?" demanded Micky, encouraged by Dick's +quietness, fancying he was afraid to encounter him. + +"No, I don't," said Dick. "I aint fond of fightin'. It's a very poor +amusement, and very bad for the complexion, 'specially for the eyes +and nose, which is apt to turn red, white, and blue." + +Micky misunderstood Dick, and judged from the tenor of his speech +that he would be an easy victim. As he knew, Dick very seldom was +concerned in any street fight,--not from cowardice, as he imagined, +but because he had too much good sense to do so. Being quarrelsome, +like all bullies, and supposing that he was more than a match for +our hero, being about two inches taller, he could no longer resist +an inclination to assault him, and tried to plant a blow in Dick's +face which would have hurt him considerably if he had not drawn back +just in time. + +Now, though Dick was far from quarrelsome, he was ready to defend +himself on all occasions, and it was too much to expect that he +would stand quiet and allow himself to be beaten. + +He dropped his blacking-box on the instant, and returned Micky's +blow with such good effect that the young bully staggered back, and +would have fallen, if he had not been propped up by his confederate, +Limpy Jim. + +"Go in, Micky!" shouted the latter, who was rather a coward on his +own account, but liked to see others fight. "Polish him off, that's +a good feller." + +Micky was now boiling over with rage and fury, and required no +urging. He was fully determined to make a terrible example of poor +Dick. He threw himself upon him, and strove to bear him to the +ground; but Dick, avoiding a close hug, in which he might possibly +have got the worst of it, by an adroit movement, tripped up his +antagonist, and stretched him on the side walk. + +"Hit him, Jim!" exclaimed Micky, furiously. + +Limpy Jim did not seem inclined to obey orders. There was a quiet +strength and coolness about Dick, which alarmed him. He preferred +that Micky should incur all the risks of battle, and accordingly set +himself to raising his fallen comrade. + +"Come, Micky," said Dick, quietly, "you'd better give it up. I +wouldn't have touched you if you hadn't hit me first. I don't want +to fight. It's low business." + +"You're afraid of hurtin' your clo'es," said Micky, with a sneer. + +"Maybe I am," said Dick. "I hope I haven't hurt yours." + +Micky's answer to this was another attack, as violent and impetuous +as the first. But his fury was in the way. He struck wildly, not +measuring his blows, and Dick had no difficulty in turning aside, so +that his antagonist's blow fell upon the empty air, and his momentum +was such that he nearly fell forward headlong. Dick might readily +have taken advantage of his unsteadiness, and knocked him down; but +he was not vindictive, and chose to act on the defensive, except +when he could not avoid it. + +Recovering himself, Micky saw that Dick was a more formidable +antagonist than he had supposed, and was meditating another assault, +better planned, which by its impetuosity might bear our hero to the +ground. But there was an unlooked-for interference. + +"Look out for the 'copp,'" said Jim, in a low voice. + +Micky turned round and saw a tall policeman heading towards him, and +thought it might be prudent to suspend hostilities. He accordingly +picked up his black-box, and, hitching up his pants, walked off, +attended by Limpy Jim. + +"What's that chap been doing?" asked the policeman of Dick. + +"He was amoosin' himself by pitchin' into me," replied Dick. + +"What for?" + +"He didn't like it 'cause I patronized a different tailor from him." + +"Well, it seems to me you _are_ dressed pretty smart for a +boot-black," said the policeman. + +"I wish I wasn't a boot-black," said Dick. + +"Never mind, my lad. It's an honest business," said the policeman, +who was a sensible man and a worthy citizen. "It's an honest +business. Stick to it till you get something better." + +"I mean to," said Dick. "It aint easy to get out of it, as the +prisoner remarked, when he was asked how he liked his residence." + +"I hope you don't speak from experience." + +"No," said Dick; "I don't mean to get into prison if I can +help it." + +"Do you see that gentleman over there?" asked the officer, pointing +to a well-dressed man who was walking on the other side of the +street. + +"Yes." + +"Well, he was once a newsboy." + +"And what is he now?" + +"He keeps a bookstore, and is quite prosperous." + +Dick looked at the gentleman with interest, wondering if he should +look as respectable when he was a grown man. + +It will be seen that Dick was getting ambitious. Hitherto he had +thought very little of the future, but was content to get along as +he could, dining as well as his means would allow, and spending the +evenings in the pit of the Old Bowery, eating peanuts between the +acts if he was prosperous, and if unlucky supping on dry bread or +an apple, and sleeping in an old box or a wagon. Now, for the first +time, he began to reflect that he could not black boots all his +life. In seven years he would be a man, and, since his meeting with +Frank, he felt that he would like to be a respectable man. He could +see and appreciate the difference between Frank and such a boy as +Micky Maguire, and it was not strange that he preferred the society +of the former. + +In the course of the next morning, in pursuance of his new +resolutions for the future, he called at a savings bank, and held +out four dollars in bills besides another dollar in change. There +was a high railing, and a number of clerks busily writing at desks +behind it. Dick, never having been in a bank before, did not know +where to go. He went, by mistake, to the desk where money was paid +out. + +"Where's your book?" asked the clerk. + +"I haven't got any." + +"Have you any money deposited here?" + +"No, sir, I want to leave some here." + +"Then go to the next desk." + +Dick followed directions, and presented himself before an elderly +man with gray hair, who looked at him over the rims of his +spectacles. + +"I want you to keep that for me," said Dick, awkwardly emptying his +money out on the desk. + +"How much is there?" + +"Five dollars." + +"Have you got an account here?" + +"No, sir." + +"Of course you can write?" + +The "of course" was said on account of Dick's neat dress. + +"Have I got to do any writing?" asked our hero, a little +embarrassed. + +"We want you to sign your name in this book," and the old gentleman +shoved round a large folio volume containing the names of +depositors. + +Dick surveyed the book with some awe. + +"I aint much on writin'," he said. + +"Very well; write as well as you can." + +The pen was put into Dick's hand, and, after dipping it in the +inkstand, he succeeded after a hard effort, accompanied by many +contortions of the face, in inscribing upon the book of the bank +the name + +DICK HUNTER. + + +"Dick!--that means Richard, I suppose," said the bank officer, who +had some difficulty in making out the signature. + +"No; Ragged Dick is what folks call me." + +"You don't look very ragged." + +"No, I've left my rags to home. They might get wore out if I used +'em too common." + +"Well, my lad, I'll make out a book in the name of Dick Hunter, +since you seem to prefer Dick to Richard. I hope you will save up +your money and deposit more with us." + +Our hero took his bank-book, and gazed on the entry "Five Dollars" +with a new sense of importance. He had been accustomed to joke +about Erie shares, but now, for the first time, he felt himself a +capitalist; on a small scale, to be sure, but still it was no small +thing for Dick to have five dollars which he could call his own. He +firmly determined that he would lay by every cent he could spare +from his earnings towards the fund he hoped to accumulate. + +But Dick was too sensible not to know that there was something more +than money needed to win a respectable position in the world. He +felt that he was very ignorant. Of reading and writing he only knew +the rudiments, and that, with a slight acquaintance with arithmetic, +was all he did know of books. Dick knew he must study hard, and +he dreaded it. He looked upon learning as attended with greater +difficulties than it really possesses. But Dick had good pluck. He +meant to learn, nevertheless, and resolved to buy a book with his +first spare earnings. + +When Dick went home at night he locked up his bank-book in one +of the drawers of the bureau. It was wonderful how much more +independent he felt whenever he reflected upon the contents of +that drawer, and with what an important air of joint ownership +he regarded the bank building in which his small savings were +deposited. + + + +CHAPTER XV + +DICK SECURES A TUTOR + + +The next morning Dick was unusually successful, having plenty to do, +and receiving for one job twenty-five cents,--the gentleman refusing +to take change. Then flashed upon Dick's mind the thought that he +had not yet returned the change due to the gentleman whose boots he +had blacked on the morning of his introduction to the reader. + +"What'll he think of me?" said Dick to himself. "I hope he won't +think I'm mean enough to keep the money." + +Now Dick was scrupulously honest, and though the temptation to be +otherwise had often been strong, he had always resisted it. He was +not willing on any account to keep money which did not belong to +him, and he immediately started for 125 Fulton Street (the address +which had been given him) where he found Mr. Greyson's name on the +door of an office on the first floor. + +The door being open, Dick walked in. + +"Is Mr. Greyson in?" he asked of a clerk who sat on a high stool +before a desk. + +"Not just now. He'll be in soon. Will you wait?" + +"Yes," said Dick. + +"Very well; take a seat then." + +Dick sat down and took up the morning "Tribune," but presently +came to a word of four syllables, which he pronounced to himself a +"sticker," and laid it down. But he had not long to wait, for five +minutes later Mr. Greyson entered. + +"Did you wish to speak to me, my lad?" said he to Dick, whom in his +new clothes he did not recognize. + +"Yes, sir," said Dick. "I owe you some money." + +"Indeed!" said Mr. Greyson, pleasantly; "that's an agreeable +surprise. I didn't know but you had come for some. So you are +a debtor of mine, and not a creditor?" + +"I b'lieve that's right," said Dick, drawing fifteen cents from his +pocket, and placing in Mr. Greyson's hand. + +"Fifteen cents!" repeated he, in some surprise. "How do you happen +to be indebted to me in that amount?" + +"You gave me a quarter for a-shinin' your boots, yesterday mornin', +and couldn't wait for the change. I meant to have brought it before, +but I forgot all about it till this mornin'." + +"It had quite slipped my mind also. But you don't look like the boy +I employed. If I remember rightly he wasn't as well dressed as you." + +"No," said Dick. "I was dressed for a party, then, but the clo'es +was too well ventilated to be comfortable in cold weather." + +"You're an honest boy," said Mr. Greyson. "Who taught you to be +honest?" + +"Nobody," said Dick. "But it's mean to cheat and steal. I've always +knowed that." + +"Then you've got ahead of some of our business men. Do you read +the Bible?" + +"No," said Dick. "I've heard it's a good book, but I don't know much +about it." + +"You ought to go to some Sunday School. Would you be willing?" + +"Yes," said Dick, promptly. "I want to grow up 'spectable. But I +don't know where to go." + +"Then I'll tell you. The church I attend is at the corner of Fifth +Avenue and Twenty-first Street." + +"I've seen it," said Dick. + +"I have a class in the Sunday School there. If you'll come next +Sunday, I'll take you into my class, and do what I can to help you." + +"Thank you," said Dick, "but p'r'aps you'll get tired of teaching +me. I'm awful ignorant." + +"No, my lad," said Mr. Greyson, kindly. "You evidently have some +good principles to start with, as you have shown by your scorn of +dishonesty. I shall hope good things of you in the future." + +"Well, Dick," said our hero, apostrophizing himself, as he left the +office; "you're gettin' up in the world. You've got money invested, +and are goin' to attend church, by partic'lar invitation, on Fifth +Avenue. I shouldn't wonder much if you should find cards, when you +get home, from the Mayor, requestin' the honor of your company to +dinner, along with other distinguished guests." + +Dick felt in very good spirits. He seemed to be emerging from the +world in which he had hitherto lived, into a new atmosphere of +respectability, and the change seemed very pleasant to him. + +At six o'clock Dick went into a restaurant on Chatham Street, and +got a comfortable supper. He had been so successful during the day +that, after paying for this, he still had ninety cents left. While +he was despatching his supper, another boy came in, smaller and +slighter than Dick, and sat down beside him. Dick recognized him +as a boy who three months before had entered the ranks of the +boot-blacks, but who, from a natural timidity, had not been able +to earn much. He was ill-fitted for the coarse companionship of +the street boys, and shrank from the rude jokes of his present +associates. Dick had never troubled him; for our hero had a certain +chivalrous feeling which would not allow him to bully or disturb a +younger and weaker boy than himself. + +"How are you, Fosdick?" said Dick, as the other seated himself. + +"Pretty well," said Fosdick. "I suppose you're all right." + +"Oh, yes, I'm right side up with care. I've been havin' a bully +supper. What are you goin' to have?" + +"Some bread and butter." + +"Why don't you get a cup o' coffee?" + +"Why," said Fosdick, reluctantly, "I haven't got money enough +to-night." + +"Never mind," said Dick; "I'm in luck to-day, I'll stand treat." + +"That's kind in you," said Fosdick, gratefully. + +"Oh, never mind that," said Dick. + +Accordingly he ordered a cup of coffee, and a plate of beefsteak, +and was gratified to see that his young companion partook of both +with evident relish. When the repast was over, the boys went out +into the street together, Dick pausing at the desk to settle for +both suppers. + +"Where are you going to sleep to-night, Fosdick?" asked Dick, as +they stood on the sidewalk. + +"I don't know," said Fosdick, a little sadly. "In some doorway, I +expect. But I'm afraid the police will find me out, and make me +move on." + +"I'll tell you what," said Dick, "you must go home with me. I guess +my bed will hold two." + +"Have you got a room?" asked the other, in surprise. + +"Yes," said Dick, rather proudly, and with a little excusable +exultation. "I've got a room over in Mott Street; there I can +receive my friends. That'll be better than sleepin' in a +door-way,--won't it?" + +"Yes, indeed it will," said Fosdick. "How lucky I was to come across +you! It comes hard to me living as I do. When my father was alive I +had every comfort." + +"That's more'n I ever had," said Dick. "But I'm goin' to try to live +comfortable now. Is your father dead?" + +"Yes," said Fosdick, sadly. "He was a printer; but he was drowned +one dark night from a Fulton ferry-boat, and, as I had no relations +in the city, and no money, I was obliged to go to work as quick as +I could. But I don't get on very well." + +"Didn't you have no brothers nor sisters?" asked Dick. + +"No," said Fosdick; "father and I used to live alone. He was always +so much company to me that I feel very lonesome without him. There's +a man out West somewhere that owes him two thousand dollars. He used +to live in the city, and father lent him all his money to help him +go into business; but he failed, or pretended to, and went off. If +father hadn't lost that money he would have left me well off; but no +money would have made up his loss to me." + +"What's the man's name that went off with your father's money?" + +"His name is Hiram Bates." + +"P'r'aps you'll get the money again, sometime." + +"There isn't much chance of it," said Fosdick. "I'd sell out my +chances of that for five dollars." + +"Maybe I'll buy you out sometime," said Dick. "Now, come round and +see what sort of a room I've got. I used to go to the theatre +evenings, when I had money; but now I'd rather go to bed early, and +have a good sleep." + +"I don't care much about theatres," said Fosdick. "Father didn't use +to let me go very often. He said it wasn't good for boys." + +"I like to go to the Old Bowery sometimes. They have tip-top plays +there. Can you read and write well?" he asked, as a sudden thought +came to him. + +"Yes," said Fosdick. "Father always kept me at school when he was +alive, and I stood pretty well in my classes. I was expecting to +enter at the Free Academy* next year." + +* Now the college of the city of New York. + + +"Then I'll tell you what," said Dick; "I'll make a bargain with you. +I can't read much more'n a pig; and my writin' looks like hens' +tracks. I don't want to grow up knowin' no more'n a four-year-old +boy. If you'll teach me readin' and writin' evenin's, you shall +sleep in my room every night. That'll be better'n door-steps or old +boxes, where I've slept many a time." + +"Are you in earnest?" said Fosdick, his face lighting up hopefully. + +"In course I am," said Dick. "It's fashionable for young gentlemen +to have private tootors to introduct 'em into the flower-beds of +literatoor and science, and why shouldn't I foller the fashion? You +shall be my perfessor; only you must promise not to be very hard if +my writin' looks like a rail-fence on a bender." + +"I'll try not to be too severe," said Fosdick, laughing. "I shall be +thankful for such a chance to get a place to sleep. Have you got +anything to read out of?" + +"No," said Dick. "My extensive and well-selected library was lost +overboard in a storm, when I was sailin' from the Sandwich Islands +to the desert of Sahara. But I'll buy a paper. That'll do me a +long time." + +Accordingly Dick stopped at a paper-stand, and bought a copy of +a weekly paper, filled with the usual variety of reading +matter,--stories, sketches, poems, etc. + +They soon arrived at Dick's lodging-house. Our hero, procuring a +lamp from the landlady, led the way into his apartment, which he +entered with the proud air of a proprietor. + +"Well, how do you like it, Fosdick?" he asked, complacently. + +The time was when Fosdick would have thought it untidy and not +particularly attractive. But he had served a severe apprenticeship +in the streets, and it was pleasant to feel himself under shelter, +and he was not disposed to be critical. + +"It looks very comfortable, Dick," he said. + +"The bed aint very large," said Dick; "but I guess we can +get along." + +"Oh, yes," said Fosdick, cheerfully. "I don't take up much room." + +"Then that's all right. There's two chairs, you see, one for you +and one for me. In case the mayor comes in to spend the evenin' +socially, he can sit on the bed." + +The boys seated themselves, and five minutes later, under the +guidance of his young tutor, Dick had commenced his studies. + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE FIRST LESSON + + +Fortunately for Dick, his young tutor was well qualified to instruct +him. Henry Fosdick, though only twelve years old, knew as much as +many boys of fourteen. He had always been studious and ambitious +to excel. His father, being a printer, employed in an office where +books were printed, often brought home new books in sheets, which +Henry was always glad to read. Mr. Fosdick had been, besides, a +subscriber to the Mechanics' Apprentices' Library, which contains +many thousands of well-selected and instructive books. Thus Henry +had acquired an amount of general information, unusual in a boy of +his age. Perhaps he had devoted too much time to study, for he was +not naturally robust. All this, however, fitted him admirably for +the office to which Dick had appointed him,--that of his private +instructor. + +The two boys drew up their chairs to the rickety table, and spread +out the paper before them. + +"The exercises generally Commence with ringin' the bell," said Dick; +"but as I aint got none, we'll have to do without." + +"And the teacher is generally provided with a rod," said Fosdick. +"Isn't there a poker handy, that I can use in case my scholar +doesn't behave well?" + +"'Taint lawful to use fire-arms," said Dick. + +"Now, Dick," said Fosdick, "before we begin, I must find out how +much you already know. Can you read any?" + +"Not enough to hurt me," said Dick. "All I know about readin' you +could put in a nutshell, and there'd be room left for a small +family." + +"I suppose you know your letters?" + +"Yes," said Dick, "I know 'em all, but not intimately. I guess I can +call 'em all by name." + +"Where did you learn them? Did you ever go to school?" + +"Yes; I went two days." + +"Why did you stop?" + +"It didn't agree with my constitution." + +"You don't look very delicate," said Fosdick. + +"No," said Dick, "I aint troubled much that way; but I found lickins +didn't agree with me." + +"Did you get punished?" + +"Awful," said Dick. + +"What for?" + +"For indulgin' in a little harmless amoosement," said Dick. "You see +the boy that was sittin' next to me fell asleep, which I considered +improper in school-time; so I thought I'd help the teacher a little +by wakin' him up. So I took a pin and stuck into him; but I guess it +went a little too far, for he screeched awful. The teacher found out +what it was that made him holler, and whipped me with a ruler till I +was black and blue. I thought 'twas about time to take a vacation; +so that's the last time I went to school." + +"You didn't learn to read in that time, of course?" + +"No," said Dick; "but I was a newsboy a little while; so I learned a +little, just so's to find out what the news was. Sometimes I didn't +read straight and called the wrong news. One mornin' I asked another +boy what the paper said, and he told me the King of Africa was dead. +I thought it was all right till folks began to laugh." + +"Well, Dick, if you'll only study well, you won't be liable to make +such mistakes." + +"I hope so," said Dick. "My friend Horace Greeley told me the other +day that he'd get me to take his place now and then when he was off +makin' speeches if my edication hadn't been neglected." + +"I must find a good piece for you to begin on," said Fosdick, +looking over the paper. + +"Find an easy one," said Dick, "with words of one story." + +Fosdick at length found a piece which he thought would answer. He +discovered on trial that Dick had not exaggerated his deficiencies. +Words of two syllables he seldom pronounced right, and was much +surprised when he was told how "through" was sounded. + +"Seems to me it's throwin' away letters to use all them," he said. + +"How would you spell it?" asked his young teacher. + +"T-h-r-u," Said Dick. + +"Well," said Fosdick, "there's a good many other words that are +spelt with more letters than they need to have. But it's the +fashion, and we must follow it." + +But if Dick was ignorant, he was quick, and had an excellent +capacity. Moreover he had perseverance, and was not easily +discouraged. He had made up his mind he must know more, and was +not disposed to complain of the difficulty of his task. Fosdick +had occasion to laugh more than once at his ludicrous mistakes; but +Dick laughed too, and on the whole both were quite interested in +the lesson. + +At the end of an hour and a half the boys stopped for the evening. + +"You're learning fast, Dick," said Fosdick. "At this rate you will +soon learn to read well." + +"Will I?" asked Dick with an expression of satisfaction. "I'm glad +of that. I don't want to be ignorant. I didn't use to care, but I do +now. I want to grow up 'spectable." + +"So do I, Dick. We will both help each other, and I am sure we can +accomplish something. But I am beginning to feel sleepy." + +"So am I," said Dick. "Them hard words make my head ache. I wonder +who made 'em all?" + +"That's more than I can tell. I suppose you've seen a dictionary." + +"That's another of 'em. No, I can't say I have, though I may have +seen him in the street without knowin' him." + +"A dictionary is a book containing all the words in the language." + +"How many are there?" + +"I don't rightly know; but I think there are about fifty thousand." + +"It's a pretty large family," said Dick. "Have I got to learn 'em +all?" + +"That will not be necessary. There are a large number which you +would never find occasion to use." + +"I'm glad of that," said Dick; "for I don't expect to live to be +more'n a hundred, and by that time I wouldn't be more'n half +through." + +By this time the flickering lamp gave a decided hint to the boys +that unless they made haste they would have to undress in the dark. +They accordingly drew off their clothes, and Dick jumped into bed. +But Fosdick, before doing so, knelt down by the side of the bed, and +said a short prayer. + +"What's that for?" asked Dick, curiously. + +"I was saying my prayers," said Fosdick, as he rose from his knees. +"Don't you ever do it?" + +"No," said Dick. "Nobody ever taught me." + +"Then I'll teach you. Shall I?" + +"I don't know," said Dick, dubiously. "What's the good?" + +Fosdick explained as well as he could, and perhaps his simple +explanation was better adapted to Dick's comprehension than one +from an older person would have been. Dick felt more free to ask +questions, and the example of his new friend, for whom he was +beginning to feel a warm attachment, had considerable effect upon +him. When, therefore, Fosdick asked again if he should teach him a +prayer, Dick consented, and his young bedfellow did so. Dick was not +naturally irreligious. If he had lived without a knowledge of God +and of religious things, it was scarcely to be wondered at in a lad +who, from an early age, had been thrown upon his own exertions for +the means of living, with no one to care for him or give him good +advice. But he was so far good that he could appreciate goodness in +others, and this it was that had drawn him to Frank in the first +place, and now to Henry Fosdick. He did not, therefore, attempt to +ridicule his companion, as some boys better brought up might have +done, but was willing to follow his example in what something told +him was right. Our young hero had taken an important step toward +securing that genuine respectability which he was ambitious to +attain. + +Weary with the day's work, and Dick perhaps still more fatigued by +the unusual mental effort he had made, the boys soon sank into a +deep and peaceful slumber, from which they did not awaken till six +o'clock the next morning. Before going out Dick sought Mrs. Mooney, +and spoke to her on the subject of taking Fosdick as a room-mate. +He found that she had no objection, provided he would allow her +twenty-five cents a week extra, in consideration of the extra +trouble which his companion might be expected to make. To this +Dick assented, and the arrangement was definitely concluded. + +This over, the two boys went out and took stations near each other. +Dick had more of a business turn than Henry, and less shrinking from +publicity, so that his earnings were greater. But he had undertaken +to pay the entire expenses of the room, and needed to earn more. +Sometimes, when two customers presented themselves at the same time, +he was able to direct one to his friend. So at the end of the week +both boys found themselves with surplus earnings. Dick had the +satisfaction of adding two dollars and a half to his deposits in +the Savings Bank, and Fosdick commenced an account by depositing +seventy-five cents. + +On Sunday morning Dick bethought himself of his promise to Mr. +Greyson to come to the church on Fifth Avenue. To tell the truth, +Dick recalled it with some regret. He had never been inside a church +since he could remember, and he was not much attracted by the +invitation he had received. But Henry, finding him wavering, urged +him to go, and offered to go with him. Dick gladly accepted the +offer, feeling that he required someone to lend him countenance +under such unusual circumstances. + +Dick dressed himself with scrupulous care, giving his shoes a +"shine" so brilliant that it did him great credit in a professional +point of view, and endeavored to clean his hands thoroughly; but, in +spite of all he could do, they were not so white as if his business +had been of a different character. + +Having fully completed his preparations, he descended into the +street, and, with Henry by his side, crossed over to Broadway. + +The boys pursued their way up Broadway, which on Sunday presents +a striking contrast in its quietness to the noise and confusion +of ordinary week-days, as far as Union Square, then turned down +Fourteenth Street, which brought them to Fifth Avenue. + +"Suppose we dine at Delmonico's," said Fosdick, looking towards that +famous restaurant. + +"I'd have to sell some of my Erie shares," said Dick. + +A short walk now brought them to the church of which mention has +already been made. They stood outside, a little abashed, watching +the fashionably attired people who were entering, and were feeling +a little undecided as to whether they had better enter also, when +Dick felt a light touch upon his shoulder. + +Turning round, he met the smiling glance of Mr. Greyson. + +"So, my young friend, you have kept your promise," he said. "And +whom have you brought with you?" + +"A friend of mine," said Dick. "His name is Henry Fosdick." + +"I am glad you have brought him. Now follow me, and I will give you +seats." + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +DICK'S FIRST APPEARANCE IN SOCIETY + + +It was the hour for morning service. The boys followed Mr. Greyson +into the handsome church, and were assigned seats in his own pew. + +There were two persons already seated in it,--a good-looking lady of +middle age, and a pretty little girl of nine. They were Mrs. Greyson +and her only daughter Ida. They looked pleasantly at the boys as +they entered, smiling a welcome to them. + +The morning service commenced. It must be acknowledged that Dick +felt rather awkward. It was an unusual place for him, and it need +not be wondered at that he felt like a cat in a strange garret. He +would not have known when to rise if he had not taken notice of what +the rest of the audience did, and followed their example. He was +sitting next to Ida, and as it was the first time he had ever been +near so well-dressed a young lady, he naturally felt bashful. When +the hymns were announced, Ida found the place, and offered a +hymn-book to our hero. Dick took it awkwardly, but his studies had +not yet been pursued far enough for him to read the words readily. +However, he resolved to keep up appearances, and kept his eyes +fixed steadily on the hymn-book. + +At length the service was over. The people began to file slowly out +of church, and among them, of course, Mr. Greyson's family and the +two boys. It seemed very strange to Dick to find himself in such +different companionship from what he had been accustomed, and he +could not help thinking, "Wonder what Johnny Nolan 'ould say if he +could see me now!" + +But Johnny's business engagements did not often summon him to Fifth +Avenue, and Dick was not likely to be seen by any of his friends in +the lower part of the city. + +"We have our Sunday school in the afternoon," said Mr. Greyson. "I +suppose you live at some distance from here?" + +"In Mott Street, sir," answered Dick. + +"That is too far to go and return. Suppose you and your friend +come and dine with us, and then we can come here together in the +afternoon." + +Dick was as much astonished at this invitation as if he had really +been invited by the Mayor to dine with him and the Board of +Aldermen. Mr. Greyson was evidently a rich man, and yet he had +actually invited two boot-blacks to dine with him. + +"I guess we'd better go home, sir," said Dick, hesitating. + +"I don't think you can have any very pressing engagements to +interfere with your accepting my invitation," said Mr. Greyson, +good-humoredly, for he understood the reason of Dick's hesitation. +"So I take it for granted that you both accept." + +Before Dick fairly knew what he intended to do, he was walking down +Fifth Avenue with his new friends. + +Now, our young hero was not naturally bashful; but he certainly felt +so now, especially as Miss Ida Greyson chose to walk by his side, +leaving Henry Fosdick to walk with her father and mother. + +"What is your name?" asked Ida, pleasantly. + +Our hero was about to answer "Ragged Dick," when it occurred to him +that in the present company he had better forget his old nickname. + +"Dick Hunter," he answered. + +"Dick!" repeated Ida. "That means Richard, doesn't it?" + +"Everybody calls me Dick." + +"I have a cousin Dick," said the young lady, sociably. "His name is +Dick Wilson. I suppose you don't know him?" + +"No," said Dick. + +"I like the name of Dick," said the young lady, with charming +frankness. + +Without being able to tell why, Dick felt rather glad she did. He +plucked up courage to ask her name. + +"My name is Ida," answered the young lady. "Do you like it?" + +"Yes," said Dick. "It's a bully name." + +Dick turned red as soon as he had said it, for he felt that he had +not used the right expression. + +The little girl broke into a silvery laugh. + +"What a funny boy you are!" she said. + +"I didn't mean it," said Dick, stammering. "I meant it's a tip-top +name." + +Here Ida laughed again, and Dick wished himself back in Mott Street. + +"How old are you?" inquired Ida, continuing her examination. + +"I'm fourteen,--goin' on fifteen," said Dick. + +"You're a big boy of your age," said Ida. "My cousin Dick is a year +older than you, but he isn't as large." + +Dick looked pleased. Boys generally like to be told that they are +large of their age. + +"How old be you?" asked Dick, beginning to feel more at his ease. + +"I'm nine years old," said Ida. "I go to Miss Jarvis's school. I've +just begun to learn French. Do you know French?" + +"Not enough to hurt me," said Dick. + +Ida laughed again, and told him that he was a droll boy. + +"Do you like it?" asked Dick. + +"I like it pretty well, except the verbs. I can't remember them +well. Do you go to school?" + +"I'm studying with a private tutor," said Dick. + +"Are you? So is my cousin Dick. He's going to college this year. Are +you going to college?" + +"Not this year." + +"Because, if you did, you know you'd be in the same class with my +cousin. It would be funny to have two Dicks in one class." + +They turned down Twenty-fourth Street, passing the Fifth Avenue +Hotel on the left, and stopped before an elegant house with a brown +stone front. The bell was rung, and the door being opened, the boys, +somewhat abashed, followed Mr. Greyson into a handsome hall. They +were told where to hang their hats, and a moment afterwards were +ushered into a comfortable dining-room, where a table was spread +for dinner. + +Dick took his seat on the edge of a sofa, and was tempted to rub his +eyes to make sure that he was really awake. He could hardly believe +that he was a guest in so fine a mansion. + +Ida helped to put the boys at their ease. + +"Do you like pictures?" she asked. + +"Very much," answered Henry. + +The little girl brought a book of handsome engravings, and, seating +herself beside Dick, to whom she seemed to have taken a decided +fancy, commenced showing them to him. + +"There are the Pyramids of Egypt," she said, pointing to one engraving. + +"What are they for?" asked Dick, puzzled. "I don't see any winders." + +"No," said Ida, "I don't believe anybody lives there. Do they, papa?" + +"No, my dear. They were used for the burial of the dead. The largest +of them is said to be the loftiest building in the world with one +exception. The spire of the Cathedral of Strasburg is twenty-four +feet higher, if I remember rightly." + +"Is Egypt near here?" asked Dick. + +"Oh, no, it's ever so many miles off; about four or five hundred. +Didn't you know?" + +"No," said Dick. "I never heard." + +"You don't appear to be very accurate in your information, Ida," +said her mother. "Four or five thousand miles would be considerably +nearer the truth." + +After a little more conversation they sat down to dinner. Dick +seated himself in an embarrassed way. He was very much afraid of +doing or saying something which would be considered an impropriety, +and had the uncomfortable feeling that everybody was looking at him, +and watching his behavior. + +"Where do you live, Dick?" asked Ida, familiarly. + +"In Mott Street." + +"Where is that?" + +"More than a mile off." + +"Is it a nice street?" + +"Not very," said Dick. "Only poor folks live there." + +"Are you poor?" + +"Little girls should be seen and not heard," said her mother, gently. + +"If you are," said Ida, "I'll give you the five-dollar gold-piece +aunt gave me for a birthday present." + +"Dick cannot be called poor, my child," said Mrs. Greyson, "since he +earns his living by his own exertions." + +"Do you earn your living?" asked Ida, who was a very inquisitive +young lady, and not easily silenced. "What do you do?" + +Dick blushed violently. At such a table, and in presence of the +servant who was standing at that moment behind his chair, he did not +like to say that he was a shoe-black, although he well knew that +there was nothing dishonorable in the occupation. + +Mr. Greyson perceived his feelings, and to spare them, said, "You +are too inquisitive, Ida. Sometime Dick may tell you, but you know +we don't talk of business on Sundays." + +Dick in his embarrassment had swallowed a large spoonful of hot +soup, which made him turn red in the face. For the second time, +in spite of the prospect of the best dinner he had ever eaten, he +wished himself back in Mott Street. Henry Fosdick was more easy +and unembarrassed than Dick, not having led such a vagabond and +neglected life. But it was to Dick that Ida chiefly directed her +conversation, having apparently taken a fancy to his frank and +handsome face. I believe I have already said that Dick was a very +good-looking boy, especially now since he kept his face clean. He +had a frank, honest expression, which generally won its way to the +favor of those with whom he came in contact. + +Dick got along pretty well at the table by dint of noticing how the +rest acted, but there was one thing he could not manage, eating with +his fork, which, by the way, he thought a very singular arrangement. + +At length they arose from the table, somewhat to Dick's relief. +Again Ida devoted herself to the boys, and exhibited a profusely +illustrated Bible for their entertainment. Dick was interested in +looking at the pictures, though he knew very little of their +subjects. Henry Fosdick was much better informed, as might have +been expected. + +When the boys were about to leave the house with Mr. Greyson for the +Sunday school, Ida placed her hand in Dick's, and said persuasively. +"You'll come again, Dick, won't you?" + +"Thank you," said Dick, "I'd like to," and he could not help +thinking Ida the nicest girl he had ever seen. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Greyson, hospitably, "we shall be glad to see you +both here again." + +"Thank you very much," said Henry Fosdick, gratefully. "We shall +like very much to come." + +I will not dwell upon the hour spent in Sunday school, nor upon the +remarks of Mr. Greyson to his class. He found Dick's ignorance of +religious subjects so great that he was obliged to begin at the +beginning with him. Dick was interested in hearing the children +sing, and readily promised to come again the next Sunday. + +When the service was over Dick and Henry walked homewards. Dick +could not help letting his thoughts rest on the sweet little girl +who had given him so cordial a welcome, and hoping that he might +meet her again. + +"Mr. Greyson is a nice man,--isn't he, Dick?" asked Henry, as they +were turning into Mott Street, and were already in sight of their +lodging-house. + +"Aint he, though?" said Dick. "He treated us just as if we were +young gentlemen." + +"Ida seemed to take a great fancy to you." + +"She's a tip-top girl," said Dick, "but she asked so many questions +that I didn't know what to say." + +He had scarcely finished speaking, when a stone whizzed by his head, +and, turning quickly, he saw Micky Maguire running round the corner +of the street which they had just passed. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +MICKY MAGUIRE'S SECOND DEFEAT + + +Dick was no coward. Nor was he in the habit of submitting passively +to an insult. When, therefore, he recognized Micky as his assailant, +he instantly turned and gave chase. Micky anticipated pursuit, and +ran at his utmost speed. It is doubtful if Dick would have overtaken +him, but Micky had the ill luck to trip just as he had entered a +narrow alley, and, falling with some violence, received a sharp blow +from the hard stones, which made him scream with pain. + +"Ow!" he whined. "Don't you hit a feller when he's down." + +"What made you fire that stone at me?" demanded our hero, looking +down at the fallen bully. + +"Just for fun," said Micky. + +"It would have been a very agreeable s'prise if it had hit me," said +Dick. "S'posin' I fire a rock at you jest for fun." + +"Don't!" exclaimed Micky, in alarm. + +"It seems you don't like agreeable s'prises," said Dick, "any more'n +the man did what got hooked by a cow one mornin', before breakfast. +It didn't improve his appetite much." + +"I've most broke my arm," said Micky, ruefully, rubbing the affected +limb. + +"If it's broke you can't fire no more stones, which is a very +cheerin' reflection," said Dick. "Ef you haven't money enough to buy +a wooden one I'll lend you a quarter. There's one good thing about +wooden ones, they aint liable to get cold in winter, which is +another cheerin' reflection." + +"I don't want none of yer cheerin' reflections," said Micky, +sullenly. "Yer company aint wanted here." + +"Thank you for your polite invitation to leave," said Dick, bowing +ceremoniously. "I'm willin' to go, but ef you throw any more stones +at me, Micky Maguire, I'll hurt you worse than the stones did." + +The only answer made to this warning was a scowl from his fallen +opponent. It was quite evident that Dick had the best of it, and +he thought it prudent to say nothing. + +"As I've got a friend waitin' outside, I shall have to tear myself +away," said Dick. "You'd better not throw any more stones, Micky +Maguire, for it don't seem to agree with your constitution." + +Micky muttered something which Dick did not stay to hear. He backed +out of the alley, keeping a watchful eye on his fallen foe, and +rejoined Henry Fosdick, who was awaiting his return. + +"Who was it, Dick?" he asked. + +"A partic'lar friend of mine, Micky Maguire," said Dick. "He +playfully fired a rock at my head as a mark of his 'fection. He +loves me like a brother, Micky does." + +"Rather a dangerous kind of a friend, I should think," +said Fosdick. "He might have killed you." + +"I've warned him not to be so 'fectionate another time," said Dick. + +"I know him," said Henry Fosdick. "He's at the head of a gang of +boys living at the Five-Points. He threatened to whip me once +because a gentleman employed me to black his boots instead of him." + +"He's been at the Island two or three times for stealing," said +Dick. "I guess he won't touch me again. He'd rather get hold of +small boys. If he ever does anything to you, Fosdick, just let +me know, and I'll give him a thrashing." + +Dick was right. Micky Maguire was a bully, and like most bullies did +not fancy tackling boys whose strength was equal or superior to his +own. Although he hated Dick more than ever, because he thought our +hero was putting on airs, he had too lively a remembrance of his +strength and courage to venture upon another open attack. He +contented himself, therefore, whenever he met Dick, with scowling at +him. Dick took this very philosophically, remarking that, "if it was +soothin' to Micky's feelings, he might go ahead, as it didn't hurt +him much." + +It will not be necessary to chronicle the events of the next few +weeks. A new life had commenced for Dick. He no longer haunted the +gallery of the Old Bowery; and even Tony Pastor's hospitable doors +had lost their old attractions. He spent two hours every evening in +study. His progress was astonishingly rapid. He was gifted with a +natural quickness; and he was stimulated by the desire to acquire a +fair education as a means of "growin' up 'spectable," as he termed +it. Much was due also to the patience and perseverance of Henry +Fosdick, who made a capital teacher. + +"You're improving wonderfully, Dick," said his friend, one evening, +when Dick had read an entire paragraph without a mistake. + +"Am I?" said Dick, with satisfaction. + +"Yes. If you'll buy a writing-book to-morrow, we can begin writing +to-morrow evening." + +"What else do you know, Henry?" asked Dick. + +"Arithmetic, and geography, and grammar." + +"What a lot you know!" said Dick, admiringly. + +"I don't _know_ any of them," said Fosdick. "I've only studied them. +I wish I knew a great deal more." + +"I'll be satisfied when I know as much as you," said Dick. + +"It seems a great deal to you now, Dick, but in a few months you'll +think differently. The more you know, the more you'll want to know." + +"Then there aint any end to learnin'?" said Dick. + +"No." + +"Well," said Dick, "I guess I'll be as much as sixty before I +know everything." + +"Yes; as old as that, probably," said Fosdick, laughing. + +"Anyway, you know too much to be blackin' boots. Leave that to +ignorant chaps like me." + +"You won't be ignorant long, Dick." + +"You'd ought to get into some office or countin'-room." + +"I wish I could," said Fosdick, earnestly. "I don't succeed very +well at blacking boots. You make a great deal more than I do." + +"That's cause I aint troubled with bashfulness," said Dick. +"Bashfulness aint as natural to me as it is to you. I'm always on +hand, as the cat said to the milk. You'd better give up shines, +Fosdick, and give your 'tention to mercantile pursuits." + +"I've thought of trying to get a place," said Fosdick; "but no one +would take me with these clothes;" and he directed his glance to his +well-worn suit, which he kept as neat as he could, but which, in +spite of all his care, began to show decided marks of use. There +was also here and there a stain of blacking upon it, which, though +an advertisement of his profession, scarcely added to its good +appearance. + +"I almost wanted to stay at home from Sunday school last Sunday," he +continued, "because I thought everybody would notice how dirty and +worn my clothes had got to be." + +"If my clothes wasn't two sizes too big for you," said Dick, +generously, "I'd change. You'd look as if you'd got into your +great-uncle's suit by mistake." + +"You're very kind, Dick, to think of changing," said Fosdick, "for +your suit is much better than mine; but I don't think that mine +would suit you very well. The pants would show a little more of +your ankles than is the fashion, and you couldn't eat a very hearty +dinner without bursting the buttons off the vest." + +"That wouldn't be very convenient," said Dick. "I aint fond of +lacin' to show my elegant figger. But I say," he added with a +sudden thought, "how much money have we got in the savings' bank?" + +Fosdick took a key from his pocket, and went to the drawer in which +the bank-books were kept, and, opening it, brought them out for +inspection. + +It was found that Dick had the sum of eighteen dollars and ninety +cents placed to his credit, while Fosdick had six dollars and +forty-five cents. To explain the large difference, it must be +remembered that Dick had deposited five dollars before Henry +deposited anything, being the amount he had received as a gift +from Mr. Whitney. + +"How much does that make, the lot of it?" asked Dick. "I aint much +on figgers yet, you know." + +"It makes twenty-five dollars and thirty-five cents, Dick," said his +companion, who did not understand the thought which suggested the +question. + +"Take it, and buy some clothes, Henry," said Dick, shortly. + +"What, your money too?" + +"In course." + +"No, Dick, you are too generous. I couldn't think of it. Almost +three-quarters of the money is yours. You must spend it on +yourself." + +"I don't need it," said Dick. + +"You may not need it now, but you will some time." + +"I shall have some more then." + +"That may be; but it wouldn't be fair for me to use your money, +Dick. I thank you all the same for your kindness." + +"Well, I'll lend it to you, then," persisted Dick, "and you can pay +me when you get to be a rich merchant." + +"But it isn't likely I ever shall be one." + +"How d'you know? I went to a fortun' teller once, and she told me I +was born under a lucky star with a hard name, and I should have a +rich man for my particular friend, who would make my fortun'. I +guess you are going to be the rich man." + +Fosdick laughed, and steadily refused for some time to avail himself +of Dick's generous proposal; but at length, perceiving that our hero +seemed much disappointed, and would be really glad if his offer were +accepted, he agreed to use as much as might be needful. + +This at once brought back Dick's good-humor, and he entered +with great enthusiasm into his friend's plans. + +The next day they withdrew the money from the bank, and, when +business got a little slack, in the afternoon set out in search of +a clothing store. Dick knew enough of the city to be able to find a +place where a good bargain could be obtained. He was determined that +Fosdick should have a good serviceable suit, even if it took all the +money they had. The result of their search was that for twenty-three +dollars Fosdick obtained a very neat outfit, including a couple of +shirts, a hat, and a pair of shoes, besides a dark mixed suit, which +appeared stout and of good quality. + +"Shall I sent the bundle home?" asked the salesman, impressed by the +off-hand manner in which Dick drew out the money in payment for the +clothes. + +"Thank you," said Dick, "you're very kind, but I'll take it home +myself, and you can allow me something for my trouble." + +"All right," said the clerk, laughing; "I'll allow it on your next +purchase." + +Proceeding to their apartment in Mott Street, Fosdick at once tried +on his new suit, and it was found to be an excellent fit. Dick +surveyed his new friend with much satisfaction. + +"You look like a young gentleman of fortun'," he said, "and do +credit to your governor." + +"I suppose that means you, Dick," said Fosdick, laughing. + +"In course it does." + +"You should say _of_ course," said Fosdick, who, in virtue of his +position as Dick's tutor, ventured to correct his language from time +to time. + +"How dare you correct your gov'nor?" said Dick, with comic +indignation. "'I'll cut you off with a shillin', you young dog,' as +the Markis says to his nephew in the play at the Old Bowery." + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +FOSDICK CHANGES HIS BUSINESS + + +Fosdick did not venture to wear his new clothes while engaged in his +business. This he felt would have been wasteful extravagance. About +ten o'clock in the morning, when business slackened, he went home, +and dressing himself went to a hotel where he could see copies of +the "Morning Herald" and "Sun," and, noting down the places where a +boy was wanted, went on a round of applications. But he found it no +easy thing to obtain a place. Swarms of boys seemed to be out of +employment, and it was not unusual to find from fifty to a hundred +applicants for a single place. + +There was another difficulty. It was generally desired that the +boy wanted should reside with his parents. When Fosdick, on being +questioned, revealed the fact of his having no parents, and being +a boy of the street, this was generally sufficient of itself to +insure a refusal. Merchants were afraid to trust one who had led +such a vagabond life. Dick, who was always ready for an emergency, +suggested borrowing a white wig, and passing himself off for +Fosdick's father or grandfather. But Henry thought this might be +rather a difficult character for our hero to sustain. After fifty +applications and as many failures, Fosdick began to get discouraged. +There seemed to be no way out of his present business, for which he +felt unfitted. + +"I don't know but I shall have to black boots all my life," he said, +one day, despondently, to Dick. + +"Keep a stiff upper lip," said Dick. "By the time you get to be a +gray-headed veteran, you may get a chance to run errands for some +big firm on the Bowery, which is a very cheerin' reflection." + +So Dick by his drollery and perpetual good spirits kept up +Fosdick's courage. + +"As for me," said Dick, "I expect by that time to lay up a colossal +fortun' out of shines, and live in princely style on the Avenoo." + +But one morning, Fosdick, straying into French's Hotel, discovered +the following advertisement in the columns of "The Herald,"-- + +"WANTED--A smart, capable boy to run errands, and make himself +generally useful in a hat and cap store. Salary three dollars a +week at first. Inquire at No. -- Broadway, after ten o'clock, A.M." + +He determined to make application, and, as the City Hall clock just +then struck the hour indicated, lost no time in proceeding to the +store, which was only a few blocks distant from the Astor House. +It was easy to find the store, as from a dozen to twenty boys were +already assembled in front of it. They surveyed each other askance, +feeling that they were rivals, and mentally calculating each other's +chances. + +"There isn't much chance for me," said Fosdick to Dick, who had +accompanied him. "Look at all these boys. Most of them have good +homes, I suppose, and good recommendations, while I have nobody to +refer to." + +"Go ahead," said Dick. "Your chance is as good as anybody's." + +While this was passing between Dick and his companion, one of the +boys, a rather supercilious-looking young gentleman, genteelly +dressed, and evidently having a very high opinion of his dress and +himself turned suddenly to Dick, and remarked,-- + +"I've seen you before." + +"Oh, have you?" said Dick, whirling round; "then p'r'aps you'd like +to see me behind." + +At this unexpected answer all the boys burst into a laugh with the +exception of the questioner, who, evidently, considered that Dick +had been disrespectful. + +"I've seen you somewhere," he said, in a surly tone, correcting +himself. + +"Most likely you have," said Dick. "That's where I generally keep +myself." + +There was another laugh at the expense of Roswell Crawford, for that +was the name of the young aristocrat. But he had his revenge ready. +No boy relishes being an object of ridicule, and it was with a +feeling of satisfaction that he retorted,-- + +"I know you for all your impudence. You're nothing but a +boot-black." + +This information took the boys who were standing around by surprise, +for Dick was well-dressed, and had none of the implements of his +profession with him. + +"S'pose I be," said Dick. "Have you got any objection?" + +"Not at all," said Roswell, curling his lip; "only you'd better +stick to blacking boots, and not try to get into a store." + +"Thank you for your kind advice," said Dick. "Is it gratooitous, or +do you expect to be paid for it?" + +"You're an impudent fellow." + +"That's a very cheerin' reflection," said Dick, good-naturedly. + +"Do you expect to get this place when there's gentlemen's sons +applying for it? A boot-black in a store! That would be a good +joke." + +Boys as well as men are selfish, and, looking upon Dick as a +possible rival, the boys who listened seemed disposed to take the +same view of the situation. + +"That's what I say," said one of them, taking sides with Roswell. + +"Don't trouble yourselves," said Dick. "I aint agoin' to cut you +out. I can't afford to give up a independent and loocrative +purfession for a salary of three dollars a week." + +"Hear him talk!" said Roswell Crawford, with an unpleasant sneer. +"If you are not trying to get the place, what are you here for?" + +"I came with a friend of mine," said Dick, indicating Fosdick, +"who's goin' in for the situation." + +"Is he a boot-black, too?" demanded Roswell, superciliously. + +"He!" retorted Dick, loftily. "Didn't you know his father was a +member of Congress, and intimately acquainted with all the biggest +men in the State?" + +The boys surveyed Fosdick as if they did not quite know whether to +credit this statement, which, for the credit of Dick's veracity, it +will be observed he did not assert, but only propounded in the form +of a question. There was no time for comment, however, as just then +the proprietor of the store came to the door, and, casting his eyes +over the waiting group, singled out Roswell Crawford, and asked him +to enter. + +"Well, my lad, how old are you?" + +"Fourteen years old," said Roswell, consequentially. + +"Are your parents living?" + +"Only my mother. My father is dead. He was a gentleman," he added, +complacently. + +"Oh, was he?" said the shop-keeper. "Do you live in the city?" + +"Yes, sir. In Clinton Place." + +"Have you ever been in a situation before?" + +"Yes, sir," said Roswell, a little reluctantly. + +"Where was it?" + +"In an office on Dey Street." + +"How long were you there?" + +"A week." + +"It seems to me that was a short time. Why did you not stay longer?" + +"Because," said Roswell, loftily, "the man wanted me to get to the +office at eight o'clock, and make the fire. I'm a gentleman's son, +and am not used to such dirty work." + +"Indeed!" said the shop-keeper. "Well, young gentleman, you may step +aside a few minutes. I will speak with some of the other boys before +making my selection." + +Several other boys were called in and questioned. Roswell stood by +and listened with an air of complacency. He could not help thinking +his chances the best. "The man can see I'm a gentleman, and will do +credit to his store," he thought. + +At length it came to Fosdick's turn. He entered with no very +sanguine anticipations of success. Unlike Roswell, he set a very low +estimate upon his qualifications when compared with those of other +applicants. But his modest bearing, and quiet, gentlemanly manner, +entirely free from pretension, prepossessed the shop-keeper, who was +a sensible man, in his favor. + +"Do you reside in the city?" he asked. + +"Yes, sir," said Henry. + +"What is your age?" + +"Twelve." + +"Have you ever been in any situation?" + +"No, sir." + +"I should like to see a specimen of your handwriting. +Here, take the pen and write your name." + +Henry Fosdick had a very handsome handwriting for a boy of his age, +while Roswell, who had submitted to the same test, could do little +more than scrawl. + +"Do you reside with your parents?" + +"No, sir, they are dead." + +"Where do you live, then?" + +"In Mott Street." + +Roswell curled his lip when this name was pronounced, for Mott +Street, as my New York readers know, is in the immediate +neighborhood of the Five-Points, and very far from a fashionable +locality. + +"Have you any testimonials to present?" asked Mr. Henderson, for +that was his name. + +Fosdick hesitated. This was the question which he had foreseen would +give him trouble. + +But at this moment it happened most opportunely that Mr. Greyson +entered the shop with the intention of buying a hat. + +"Yes," said Fosdick, promptly; "I will refer to this gentleman." + +"How do you do, Fosdick?" asked Mr. Greyson, noticing him for the +first time. "How do you happen to be here?" + +"I am applying for a place, sir," said Fosdick. "May I refer the +gentleman to you?" + +"Certainly, I shall be glad to speak a good word for you. Mr. +Henderson, this is a member of my Sunday-school class, of whose good +qualities and good abilities I can speak confidently." + +"That will be sufficient," said the shop-keeper, who knew Mr. +Greyson's high character and position. "He could have no better +recommendation. You may come to the store to-morrow morning at half +past seven o'clock. The pay will be three dollars a week for the +first six months. If I am satisfied with you, I shall then raise +it to five dollars." + +The other boys looked disappointed, but none more so than Roswell +Crawford. He would have cared less if any one else had obtained the +situation; but for a boy who lived in Mott Street to be preferred +to him, a gentleman's son, he considered indeed humiliating. In a +spirit of petty spite, he was tempted to say, + +"He's a boot-black. Ask him if he isn't." + +"He's an honest and intelligent lad," said Mr. Greyson. "As for you, +young man, I only hope you have one-half his good qualities." + +Roswell Crawford left the store in disgust, and the other +unsuccessful applicants with him. + +"What luck, Fosdick?" asked Dick, eagerly, as his friend came out of +the store. + +"I've got the place," said Fosdick, in accents of satisfaction; "but +it was only because Mr. Greyson spoke up for me." + +"He's a trump," said Dick, enthusiastically. + +The gentleman, so denominated, came out before the boys went away, +and spoke with them kindly. + +Both Dick and Henry were highly pleased at the success of the +application. The pay would indeed be small, but, expended +economically, Fosdick thought he could get along on it, receiving +his room rent, as before, in return for his services as Dick's +private tutor. Dick determined, as soon as his education would +permit, to follow his companion's example. + +"I don't know as you'll be willin' to room with a boot-black," he +said, to Henry, "now you're goin' into business." + +"I couldn't room with a better friend, Dick," said Fosdick, +affectionately, throwing his arm round our hero. "When we part, +it'll be because you wish it." + +So Fosdick entered upon a new career. + + + +CHAPTER XX + +NINE MONTHS LATER + + +The next morning Fosdick rose early, put on his new suit, and, after +getting breakfast, set out for the Broadway store in which he had +obtained a position. He left his little blacking-box in the room. + +"It'll do to brush my own shoes," he said. "Who knows but I may have +to come back to it again?" + +"No danger," said Dick; "I'll take care of the feet, and you'll have +to look after the heads, now you're in a hat-store." + +"I wish you had a place too," said Fosdick. + +"I don't know enough yet," said Dick. "Wait till I've gradooated." + +"And can put A.B. after your name." + +"What's that?" + +"It stands for Bachelor of Arts. It's a degree that students get +when they graduate from college." + +"Oh," said Dick, "I didn't know but it meant A Boot-black. I can put +that after my name now. Wouldn't Dick Hunter, A.B., sound tip-top?" + +"I must be going," said Fosdick. "It won't do for me to be late the +very first morning." + +"That's the difference between you and me," said Dick. "I'm my own +boss, and there aint no one to find fault with me if I'm late. But I +might as well be goin' too. There's a gent as comes down to his +store pretty early that generally wants a shine." + +The two boys parted at the Park. Fosdick crossed it, and proceeded +to the hat-store, while Dick, hitching up his pants, began to look +about him for a customer. It was seldom that Dick had to wait long. +He was always on the alert, and if there was any business to do +he was always sure to get his share of it. He had now a stronger +inducement than ever to attend strictly to business; his little +stock of money in the savings bank having been nearly exhausted by +his liberality to his room-mate. He determined to be as economical +as possible, and moreover to study as hard as he could, that he +might be able to follow Fosdick's example, and obtain a place in +a store or counting-room. As there were no striking incidents +occurring in our hero's history within the next nine months, I +propose to pass over that period, and recount the progress he made +in that time. + +Fosdick was still at the hat-store, having succeeded in giving +perfect satisfaction to Mr. Henderson. His wages had just been +raised to five dollars a week. He and Dick still kept house together +at Mrs. Mooney's lodging-house, and lived very frugally, so that +both were able to save up money. Dick had been unusually successful +in business. He had several regular patrons, who had been drawn to +him by his ready wit, and quick humor, and from two of them he had +received presents of clothing, which had saved him any expense on +that score. His income had averaged quite seven dollars a week in +addition to this. Of this amount he was now obliged to pay one +dollar weekly for the room which he and Fosdick occupied, but he +was still able to save one half the remainder. At the end of nine +months therefore, or thirty-nine weeks, it will be seen that he had +accumulated no less a sum than one hundred and seventeen dollars. +Dick may be excused for feeling like a capitalist when he looked at +the long row of deposits in his little bank-book. There were other +boys in the same business who had earned as much money, but they +had had little care for the future, and spent as they went along, +so that few could boast a bank-account, however small. + +"You'll be a rich man some time, Dick," said Henry Fosdick, +one evening. + +"And live on Fifth Avenoo," said Dick. + +"Perhaps so. Stranger things have happened." + +"Well," said Dick, "if such a misfortin' should come upon me I +should bear it like a man. When you see a Fifth Avenoo manshun for +sale for a hundred and seventeen dollars, just let me know and I'll +buy it as an investment." + +"Two hundred and fifty years ago you might have bought one for that +price, probably. Real estate wasn't very high among the Indians." + +"Just my luck," said Dick; "I was born too late. I'd orter have been +an Indian, and lived in splendor on my present capital." + +"I'm afraid you'd have found your present business rather +unprofitable at that time." + +But Dick had gained something more valuable than money. He had +studied regularly every evening, and his improvement had been +marvellous. He could now read well, write a fair hand, and had +studied arithmetic as far as Interest. Besides this he had obtained +some knowledge of grammar and geography. If some of my boy readers, +who have been studying for years, and got no farther than this, +should think it incredible that Dick, in less than a year, and +studying evenings only, should have accomplished it, they must +remember that our hero was very much in earnest in his desire to +improve. He knew that, in order to grow up respectable, he must be +well advanced, and he was willing to work. But then the reader must +not forget that Dick was naturally a smart boy. His street education +had sharpened his faculties, and taught him to rely upon himself. He +knew that it would take him a long time to reach the goal which he +had set before him, and he had patience to keep on trying. He knew +that he had only himself to depend upon, and he determined to make +the most of himself,--a resolution which is the secret of success +in nine cases out of ten. + +"Dick," said Fosdick, one evening, after they had completed their +studies, "I think you'll have to get another teacher soon." + +"Why?" asked Dick, in some surprise. "Have you been offered a more +loocrative position?" + +"No," said Fosdick, "but I find I have taught you all I know myself. +You are now as good a scholar as I am." + +"Is that true?" said Dick, eagerly, a flush of gratification +coloring his brown cheek. + +"Yes," said Fosdick. "You've made wonderful progress. I propose, +now that evening schools have begun, that we join one, and study +together through the winter." + +"All right," said Dick. "I'd be willin' to go now; but when I first +began to study I was ashamed to have anybody know that I was so +ignorant. Do you really mean, Fosdick, that I know as much as you?" + +"Yes, Dick, it's true." + +"Then I've got you to thank for it," said Dick, earnestly. "You've +made me what I am." + +"And haven't you paid me, Dick?" + +"By payin' the room-rent," said Dick, impulsively. "What's that? It +isn't half enough. I wish you'd take half my money; you deserve it." + +"Thank you, Dick, but you're too generous. You've more than paid me. +Who was it took my part when all the other boys imposed upon me? And +who gave me money to buy clothes, and so got me my situation?" + +"Oh, that's nothing!" said Dick. + +"It's a great deal, Dick. I shall never forget it. But now it seems +to me you might try to get a situation yourself." + +"Do I know enough?" + +"You know as much as I do." + +"Then I'll try," said Dick, decidedly. + +"I wish there was a place in our store," said Fosdick. "It would be +pleasant for us to be together." + +"Never mind," said Dick; "there'll be plenty of other chances. +P'r'aps A. T. Stewart might like a partner. I wouldn't ask more'n a +quarter of the profits." + +"Which would be a very liberal proposal on your part," said Fosdick, +smiling. "But perhaps Mr. Stewart might object to a partner living +on Mott Street." + +"I'd just as lieves move to Fifth Avenoo," said Dick. "I aint got no +prejudices in favor of Mott Street." + +"Nor I," said Fosdick, "and in fact I have been thinking it might be +a good plan for us to move as soon as we could afford. Mrs. Mooney +doesn't keep the room quite so neat as she might." + +"No," said Dick. "She aint got no prejudices against dirt. Look at +that towel." + +Dick held up the article indicated, which had now seen service +nearly a week, and hard service at that,--Dick's avocation causing +him to be rather hard on towels. + +"Yes," said Fosdick, "I've got about tired of it. I guess we can +find some better place without having to pay much more. When we +move, you must let me pay my share of the rent." + +"We'll see about that," said Dick. "Do you propose to move to +Fifth Avenoo?" + +"Not just at present, but to some more agreeable neighborhood than +this. We'll wait till you get a situation, and then we can decide." + +A few days later, as Dick was looking about for customers in the +neighborhood of the Park, his attention was drawn to a fellow +boot-black, a boy about a year younger than himself, who appeared to +have been crying. + +"What's the matter, Tom?" asked Dick. "Haven't you had luck to-day?" + +"Pretty good," said the boy; "but we're havin' hard times at home. +Mother fell last week and broke her arm, and to-morrow we've got to +pay the rent, and if we don't the landlord says he'll turn us out." + +"Haven't you got anything except what you earn?" asked Dick. + +"No," said Tom, "not now. Mother used to earn three or four dollars +a week; but she can't do nothin' now, and my little sister and +brother are too young." + +Dick had quick sympathies. He had been so poor himself, and +obliged to submit to so many privations that he knew from personal +experience how hard it was. Tom Wilkins he knew as an excellent boy +who never squandered his money, but faithfully carried it home to +his mother. In the days of his own extravagance and shiftlessness +he had once or twice asked Tom to accompany him to the Old Bowery +or Tony Pastor's, but Tom had always steadily refused. + +"I'm sorry for you, Tom," he said. "How much do you owe for rent?" + +"Two weeks now," said Tom. + +"How much is it a week?" + +"Two dollars a week--that makes four." + +"Have you got anything towards it?" + +"No; I've had to spend all my money for food for mother and the rest +of us. I've had pretty hard work to do that. I don't know what we'll +do. I haven't any place to go to, and I'm afraid mother'll get cold +in her arm." + +"Can't you borrow the money somewhere?" asked Dick. + +Tom shook his head despondingly. + +"All the people I know are as poor as I am," said he. "They'd help +me if they could, but it's hard work for them to get along +themselves." + +"I'll tell you what, Tom," said Dick, impulsively, "I'll stand your +friend." + +"Have you got any money?" asked Tom, doubtfully. + +"Got any money!" repeated Dick. "Don't you know that I run a bank on +my own account? How much is it you need?" + +"Four dollars," said Tom. "If we don't pay that before to-morrow +night, out we go. You haven't got as much as that, have you?" + +"Here are three dollars," said Dick, drawing out his pocket-book. +"I'll let you have the rest to-morrow, and maybe a little more." + +"You're a right down good fellow, Dick," said Tom; "but won't you +want it yourself?" + +"Oh, I've got some more," said Dick. + +"Maybe I'll never be able to pay you." + +"S'pose you don't," said Dick; "I guess I won't fail." + +"I won't forget it, Dick. I hope I'll be able to do somethin' for +you sometime." + +"All right," said Dick. "I'd ought to help you. I haven't got no +mother to look out for. I wish I had." + +There was a tinge of sadness in his tone, as he pronounced the last +four words; but Dick's temperament was sanguine, and he never gave +way to unavailing sadness. Accordingly he began to whistle as he +turned away, only adding, "I'll see you to-morrow, Tom." + +The three dollars which Dick had handed to Tom Wilkins were his +savings for the present week. It was now Thursday afternoon. His +rent, which amounted to a dollar, he expected to save out of the +earnings of Friday and Saturday. In order to give Tom the additional +assistance he had promised, Dick would be obliged to have recourse +to his bank-savings. He would not have ventured to trench upon it +for any other reason but this. But he felt that it would be selfish +to allow Tom and his mother to suffer when he had it in his power +to relieve them. But Dick was destined to be surprised, and that in +a disagreeable manner, when he reached home. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +DICK LOSES HIS BANK-BOOK + + +It was hinted at the close of the last chapter that Dick was +destined to be disagreeably surprised on reaching home. + +Having agreed to give further assistance to Tom Wilkins, he was +naturally led to go to the drawer where he and Fosdick kept their +bank-books. To his surprise and uneasiness _the drawer proved to be +empty!_ + +"Come here a minute, Fosdick," he said. + +"What's the matter, Dick?" + +"I can't find my bank-book, nor yours either. What's 'come of them?" + +"I took mine with me this morning, thinking I might want to put in a +little more money. I've got it in my pocket, now." + +"But where's mine?" asked Dick, perplexed. + +"I don't know. I saw it in the drawer when I took mine this morning." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Yes, positive, for I looked into it to see how much you had got." + +"Did you lock it again?" asked Dick. + +"Yes; didn't you have to unlock it just now?" + +"So I did," said Dick. "But it's gone now. Somebody opened it with a +key that fitted the lock, and then locked it ag'in." + +"That must have been the way." + +"It's rather hard on a feller," said Dick, who, for the first time +since we became acquainted with him, began to feel down-hearted. + +"Don't give it up, Dick. You haven't lost the money, only the +bank-book." + +"Aint that the same thing?" + +"No. You can go to the bank to-morrow morning, as soon as it opens, +and tell them you have lost the book, and ask them not to pay the +money to any one except yourself." + +"So I can," said Dick, brightening up. "That is, if the thief hasn't +been to the bank to-day." + +"If he has, they might detect him by his handwriting." + +"I'd like to get hold of the one that stole it," said Dick, +indignantly. "I'd give him a good lickin'." + +"It must have been somebody in the house. Suppose we go and see Mrs. +Mooney. She may know whether anybody came into our room to-day." + +The two boys went downstairs, and knocked at the door of a little +back sitting-room where Mrs. Mooney generally spent her evenings. It +was a shabby little room, with a threadbare carpet on the floor, the +walls covered with a certain large-figured paper, patches of which +had been stripped off here and there, exposing the plaster, the +remainder being defaced by dirt and grease. But Mrs. Mooney had one +of those comfortable temperaments which are tolerant of dirt, and +didn't mind it in the least. She was seated beside a small pine +work-table, industriously engaged in mending stockings. + +"Good-evening, Mrs. Mooney," said Fosdick, politely. + +"Good-evening," said the landlady. "Sit down, if you can find +chairs. I'm hard at work as you see, but a poor lone widder can't +afford to be idle." + +"We can't stop long, Mrs. Mooney, but my friend here has had +something taken from his room to-day, and we thought we'd come and +see you about it." + +"What is it?" asked the landlady. "You don't think I'd take +anything? If I am poor, it's an honest name I've always had, as all +my lodgers can testify." + +"Certainly not, Mrs. Mooney; but there are others in the house that +may not be honest. My friend has lost his bank-book. It was safe in +the drawer this morning, but to-night it is not to be found." + +"How much money was there in it?" asked Mrs. Mooney. + +"Over a hundred dollars," said Fosdick. + +"It was my whole fortun'," said Dick. "I was goin' to buy a house +next year." + +Mrs. Mooney was evidently surprised to learn the extent of Dick's +wealth, and was disposed to regard him with increased respect. + +"Was the drawer locked?" she asked. + +"Yes." + +"Then it couldn't have been Bridget. I don't think she has any +keys." + +"She wouldn't know what a bank-book was," said Fosdick. "You didn't +see any of the lodgers go into our room to-day, did you?" + +"I shouldn't wonder if it was Jim Travis," said Mrs. Mooney, suddenly. + +This James Travis was a bar-tender in a low groggery in Mulberry +Street, and had been for a few weeks an inmate of Mrs. Mooney's +lodging-house. He was a coarse-looking fellow who, from his +appearance, evidently patronized liberally the liquor he dealt out +to others. He occupied a room opposite Dick's, and was often heard +by the two boys reeling upstairs in a state of intoxication, +uttering shocking oaths. + +This Travis had made several friendly overtures to Dick and his +room-mate, and had invited them to call round at the bar-room where +he tended, and take something. But this invitation had never been +accepted, partly because the boys were better engaged in the +evening, and partly because neither of them had taken a fancy to Mr. +Travis; which certainly was not strange, for nature had not gifted +him with many charms, either of personal appearance or manners. The +rejection of his friendly proffers had caused him to take a dislike +to Dick and Henry, whom he considered stiff and unsocial. + +"What makes you think it was Travis?" asked Fosdick. "He isn't at +home in the daytime." + +"But he was to-day. He said he had got a bad cold, and had to come +home for a clean handkerchief." + +"Did you see him?" asked Dick. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Mooney. "Bridget was hanging out clothes, and I +went to the door to let him in." + +"I wonder if he had a key that would fit our drawer," said Fosdick. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Mooney. "The bureaus in the two rooms are just +alike. I got 'em at auction, and most likely the locks is the same." + +"It must have been he," said Dick, looking towards Fosdick. + +"Yes," said Fosdick, "it looks like it." + +"What's to be done? That's what I'd like to know," said Dick. "Of +course he'll say he hasn't got it; and he won't be such a fool as to +leave it in his room." + +"If he hasn't been to the bank, it's all right," said Fosdick. "You +can go there the first thing to-morrow morning, and stop their +paying any money on it." + +"But I can't get any money on it myself," said Dick. "I told Tom +Wilkins I'd let him have some more money to-morrow, or his sick +mother'll have to turn out of their lodgin's." + +"How much money were you going to give him?" + +"I gave him three dollars to-day, and was goin' to give him two +dollars to-morrow." + +"I've got the money, Dick. I didn't go to the bank this morning." + +"All right. I'll take it, and pay you back next week." + +"No, Dick; if you've given three dollars, you must let me give two." + +"No, Fosdick, I'd rather give the whole. You know I've got more +money than you. No, I haven't, either," said Dick, the memory of his +loss flashing upon him. "I thought I was rich this morning, but now +I'm in destitoot circumstances." + +"Cheer up, Dick; you'll get your money back." + +"I hope so," said our hero, rather ruefully. + +The fact was, that our friend Dick was beginning to feel what is +so often experienced by men who do business of a more important +character and on a larger scale than he, the bitterness of a reverse +of circumstances. With one hundred dollars and over carefully laid +away in the savings bank, he had felt quite independent. Wealth is +comparative, and Dick probably felt as rich as many men who are +worth a hundred thousand dollars. He was beginning to feel the +advantages of his steady self-denial, and to experience the +pleasures of property. Not that Dick was likely to be unduly +attached to money. Let it be said to his credit that it had never +given him so much satisfaction as when it enabled him to help Tom +Wilkins in his trouble. + +Besides this, there was another thought that troubled him. When he +obtained a place he could not expect to receive as much as he was +now making from blacking boots,--probably not more than three +dollars a week,--while his expenses without clothing would amount to +four dollars. To make up the deficiency he had confidently relied +upon his savings, which would be sufficient to carry him along for a +year, if necessary. If he should not recover his money, he would be +compelled to continue a boot-black for at least six months longer; +and this was rather a discouraging reflection. On the whole it is +not to be wondered at that Dick felt unusually sober this evening, +and that neither of the boys felt much like studying. + +The two boys consulted as to whether it would be best to speak to +Travis about it. It was not altogether easy to decide. Fosdick was +opposed to it. + +"It will only put him on his guard," said he, "and I don't see as it +will do any good. Of course he will deny it. We'd better keep quiet, +and watch him, and, by giving notice at the bank, we can make sure +that he doesn't get any money on it. If he does present himself at +the bank, they will know at once that he is a thief, and he can be +arrested." + +This view seemed reasonable, and Dick resolved to adopt it. On the +whole, he began to think prospects were brighter than he had at +first supposed, and his spirits rose a little. + +"How'd he know I had any bank-book? That's what I can't make out," +he said. + +"Don't you remember?" said Fosdick, after a moment's thought, "we +were speaking of our savings, two or three evenings since?" + +"Yes," said Dick. + +"Our door was a little open at the time, and I heard somebody come +upstairs, and stop a minute in front of it. It must have been Jim +Travis. In that way he probably found out about your money, and took +the opportunity to-day to get hold of it." + +This might or might not be the correct explanation. At all events it +seemed probable. + +The boys were just on the point of going to bed, later in the +evening, when a knock was heard at the door, and, to their no little +surprise, their neighbor, Jim Travis, proved to be the caller. He +was a sallow-complexioned young man, with dark hair and bloodshot +eyes. + +He darted a quick glance from one to the other as he entered, which +did not escape the boys' notice. + +"How are ye, to-night?" he said, sinking into one of the two chairs +with which the room was scantily furnished. + +"Jolly," said Dick. "How are you?" + +"Tired as a dog," was the reply. "Hard work and poor pay; that's the +way with me. I wanted to go to the theater, to-night, but I was hard +up, and couldn't raise the cash." + +Here he darted another quick glance at the boys; but neither +betrayed anything. + +"You don't go out much, do you?" he said + +"Not much," said Fosdick. "We spend our evenings in study." + +"That's precious slow," said Travis, rather contemptuously. "What's +the use of studying so much? You don't expect to be a lawyer, do +you, or anything of that sort?" + +"Maybe," said Dick. "I haven't made up my mind yet. If my +feller-citizens should want me to go to Congress some time, I +shouldn't want to disapp'int 'em; and then readin' and writin' +might come handy." + +"Well," said Travis, rather abruptly, "I'm tired and I guess +I'll turn in." + +"Good-night," said Fosdick. + +The boys looked at each other as their visitor left the room. + +"He came in to see if we'd missed the bank-book," said Dick. + +"And to turn off suspicion from himself, by letting us know he had +no money," added Fosdick. + +"That's so," said Dick. "I'd like to have searched them pockets +of his." + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +TRACKING THE THIEF + + +Fosdick was right in supposing that Jim Travis had stolen the +bank-book. He was also right in supposing that that worthy young +man had come to the knowledge of Dick's savings by what he had +accidentally overheard. Now, Travis, like a very large number of +young men of his class, was able to dispose of a larger amount of +money than he was able to earn. Moreover, he had no great fancy for +work at all, and would have been glad to find some other way of +obtaining money enough to pay his expenses. He had recently received +a letter from an old companion, who had strayed out to California, +and going at once to the mines had been lucky enough to get +possession of a very remunerative claim. He wrote to Travis that he +had already realized two thousand dollars from it, and expected to +make his fortune within six months. + +Two thousand dollars! This seemed to Travis a very large sum, and +quite dazzled his imagination. He was at once inflamed with the +desire to go out to California and try his luck. In his present +situation he only received thirty dollars a month, which was +probably all that his services were worth, but went a very little +way towards gratifying his expensive tastes. Accordingly he +determined to take the next steamer to the land of gold, if he +could possibly manage to get money enough to pay the passage. + +The price of a steerage passage at that time was seventy-five +dollars,--not a large sum, certainly,--but it might as well have +been seventy-five hundred for any chance James Travis had of raising +the amount at present. His available funds consisted of precisely +two dollars and a quarter; of which sum, one dollar and a half was +due to his washerwoman. This, however, would not have troubled +Travis much, and he would conveniently have forgotten all about it; +but, even leaving this debt unpaid, the sum at his command would not +help him materially towards paying his passage money. + +Travis applied for help to two or three of his companions; but they +were all of that kind who never keep an account with savings banks, +but carry all their spare cash about with them. One of these friends +offered to lend him thirty-seven cents, and another a dollar; but +neither of these offers seemed to encourage him much. He was about +giving up his project in despair, when he learned, accidentally, as +we have already said, the extent of Dick's savings. + +One hundred and seventeen dollars! Why, that would not only pay his +passage, but carry him up to the mines, after he had arrived in San +Francisco. He could not help thinking it over, and the result of +this thinking was that he determined to borrow it of Dick without +leave. Knowing that neither of the boys were in their room in the +daytime, he came back in the course of the morning, and, being +admitted by Mrs. Mooney herself, said, by way of accounting for his +presence, that he had a cold, and had come back for a handkerchief. +The landlady suspected nothing, and, returning at once to her work +in the kitchen, left the coast clear. + +Travis at once entered Dick's room, and, as there seemed to be no +other place for depositing money, tried the bureau-drawers. They +were all readily opened, except one, which proved to be locked. This +he naturally concluded must contain the money, and going back to his +own chamber for the key of the bureau, tried it on his return, and +found to his satisfaction that it would fit. When he discovered the +bank-book, his joy was mingled with disappointment. He had expected +to find bank-bills instead. This would have saved all further +trouble, and would have been immediately available. Obtaining money +at the savings bank would involve fresh risk. Travis hesitated +whether to take it or not; but finally decided that it would be +worth the trouble and hazard. + +He accordingly slipped the book into his pocket, locked the drawer +again, and, forgetting all about the handkerchief for which he had +come home went downstairs, and into the street. + +There would have been time to go to the savings bank that day, but +Travis had already been absent from his place of business some time, +and did not venture to take the additional time required. Besides, +not being very much used to savings banks, never having had occasion +to use them, he thought it would be more prudent to look over the +rules and regulations, and see if he could not get some information +as to the way he ought to proceed. So the day passed, and Dick's +money was left in safety at the bank. + +In the evening, it occurred to Travis that it might be well to find +out whether Dick had discovered his loss. This reflection it was +that induced the visit which is recorded at the close of the last +chapter. The result was that he was misled by the boys' silence on +the subject, and concluded that nothing had yet been discovered. + +"Good!" thought Travis, with satisfaction. "If they don't find out +for twenty-four hours, it'll be too late, then, and I shall be all +right." + +There being a possibility of the loss being discovered before the +boys went out in the morning, Travis determined to see them at that +time, and judge whether such was the case. He waited, therefore, +until he heard the boys come out, and then opened his own door. + +"Morning, gents," said he, sociably. "Going to business?" + +"Yes," said Dick. "I'm afraid my clerks'll be lazy if I aint +on hand." + +"Good joke!" said Travis. "If you pay good wages, I'd like to speak +for a place." + +"I pay all I get myself," said Dick. "How's business with you?" + +"So so. Why don't you call round, some time?" + +"All my evenin's is devoted to literatoor and science," said Dick. +"Thank you all the same." + +"Where do you hang out?" inquired Travis, in choice language, +addressing Fosdick. + +"At Henderson's hat and cap store, on Broadway." + +"I'll look in upon you some time when I want a tile," said Travis. +"I suppose you sell cheaper to your friends." + +"I'll be as reasonable as I can," said Fosdick, not very cordially; +for he did not much fancy having it supposed by his employer that +such a disreputable-looking person as Travis was a friend of his. + +However, Travis had no idea of showing himself at the Broadway +store, and only said this by way of making conversation, and +encouraging the boys to be social. + +"You haven't any of you gents seen a pearl-handled knife, have you?" +he asked. + +"No," said Fosdick; "have you lost one?" + +"Yes," said Travis, with unblushing falsehood. "I left it on my +bureau a day or two since. I've missed one or two other little +matters. Bridget don't look to me any too honest. Likely she's +got 'em." + +"What are you goin' to do about it?" said Dick. + +"I'll keep mum unless I lose something more, and then I'll kick up a +row, and haul her over the coals. Have you missed anything?" + +"No," said Fosdick, answering for himself, as he could do without +violating the truth. + +There was a gleam of satisfaction in the eyes of Travis, as he heard +this. + +"They haven't found it out yet," he thought. "I'll bag the money +to-day, and then they may whistle for it." + +Having no further object to serve in accompanying the boys, he bade +them good-morning, and turned down another street. + +"He's mighty friendly all of a sudden," said Dick. + +"Yes," said Fosdick; "it's very evident what it all means. He wants +to find out whether you have discovered your loss or not." + +"But he didn't find out." + +"No; we've put him on the wrong track. He means to get his money +to-day, no doubt." + +"My money," suggested Dick. + +"I accept the correction," said Fosdick. + +"Of course, Dick, you'll be on hand as soon as the bank opens." + +"In course I shall. Jim Travis'll find he's walked into the +wrong shop." + +"The bank opens at ten o'clock, you know." + +"I'll be there on time." + +The two boys separated. + +"Good luck, Dick," said Fosdick, as he parted from him. "It'll all +come out right, I think." + +"I hope 'twill," said Dick. + +He had recovered from his temporary depression, and made up his mind +that the money would be recovered. He had no idea of allowing +himself to be outwitted by Jim Travis, and enjoyed already, in +anticipation, the pleasure of defeating his rascality. + +It wanted two hours and a half yet to ten o'clock, and this time to +Dick was too precious to be wasted. It was the time of his greatest +harvest. He accordingly repaired to his usual place of business, +succeeded in obtaining six customers, which yielded him sixty cents. +He then went to a restaurant, and got some breakfast. It was now +half-past nine, and Dick, feeling that it wouldn't do to be late, +left his box in charge of Johnny Nolan, and made his way to the +bank. + +The officers had not yet arrived, and Dick lingered on the outside, +waiting till they should come. He was not without a little +uneasiness, fearing that Travis might be as prompt as himself, and +finding him there, might suspect something, and so escape the snare. +But, though looking cautiously up and down the street, he could +discover no traces of the supposed thief. In due time ten o'clock +struck, and immediately afterwards the doors of the bank were thrown +open, and our hero entered. + +As Dick had been in the habit of making a weekly visit for the last +nine months, the cashier had come to know him by sight. + +"You're early, this morning, my lad," he said, pleasantly. "Have you +got some more money to deposit? You'll be getting rich, soon." + +"I don't know about that," said Dick. "My bank-book's been stole." + +"Stolen!" echoed the cashier. "That's unfortunate. Not so bad as it +might be, though. The thief can't collect the money." + +"That's what I came to see about," said Dick. "I was afraid he might +have got it already." + +"He hasn't been here yet. Even if he had, I remember you, and should +have detected him. When was it taken?" + +"Yesterday," said Dick. "I missed it in the evenin' when I +got home." + +"Have you any suspicion as to the person who took it?" asked +the cashier. + +Dick thereupon told all he knew as to the general character and +suspicious conduct of Jim Travis, and the cashier agreed with him +that he was probably the thief. Dick also gave his reason for +thinking that he would visit the bank that morning, to withdraw +the funds. + +"Very good," said the cashier. "We'll be ready for him. What is the +number of your book?" + +"No. 5,678," said Dick. + +"Now give me a litttle description of this Travis whom you suspect." + +Dick accordingly furnished a brief outline sketch of Travis, not +particularly complimentary to the latter. + +"That will answer. I think I shall know him," said the cashier. "You +may depend upon it that he shall receive no money on your account." + +"Thank you," said Dick. + +Considerably relieved in mind, our hero turned towards the door, +thinking that there would be nothing gained by his remaining longer, +while he would of course lose time. + +He had just reached the doors, which were of glass, when through +them he perceived James Travis himself just crossing the street, and +apparently coming towards the bank. It would not do, of course, for +him to be seen. + +"Here he is," he exclaimed, hurrying back. "Can't you hide me +somewhere? I don't want to be seen." + +The cashier understood at once how the land lay. He quickly opened a +little door, and admitted Dick behind the counter. + +"Stoop down," he said, "so as not to be seen." + +Dick had hardly done so when Jim Travis opened the outer door, +and, looking about him in a little uncertainty, walked up to the +cashier's desk. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +TRAVIS IS ARRESTED + + +Jim Travis advanced into the bank with a doubtful step, knowing well +that he was on a dishonest errand, and heartily wishing that he +were well out of it. After a little hesitation, he approached the +paying-teller, and, exhibiting the bank-book, said, "I want to get +my money out." + +The bank-officer took the book, and, after looking at it a moment, +said, "How much do you want?" + +"The whole of it," said Travis. + +"You can draw out any part of it, but to draw out the whole requires +a week's notice." + +"Then I'll take a hundred dollars." + +"Are you the person to whom the book belongs?" + +"Yes, sir," said Travis, without hesitation. + +"Your name is--" + +"Hunter." + +The bank-clerk went to a large folio volume, containing the names of +depositors, and began to turn over the leaves. While he was doing +this, he managed to send out a young man connected with the bank for +a policeman. Travis did not perceive this, or did not suspect that +it had anything to do with himself. Not being used to savings banks, +he supposed the delay only what was usual. After a search, which was +only intended to gain time that a policeman might be summoned, the +cashier came back, and, sliding out a piece of paper to Travis, +said, "It will be necessary for you to write an order for the money." + +Travis took a pen, which he found on the ledge outside, and wrote +the order, signing his name "Dick Hunter," having observed that name +on the outside of the book. + +"Your name is Dick Hunter, then?" said the cashier, taking the +paper, and looking at the thief over his spectacles. + +"Yes," said Travis, promptly. + +"But," continued the cashier, "I find Hunter's age is put down on +the bank-book as fourteen. Surely you must be more than that." + +Travis would gladly have declared that he was only fourteen; but, +being in reality twenty-three, and possessing a luxuriant pair of +whiskers, this was not to be thought of. He began to feel uneasy. + +"Dick Hunter's my younger brother," he said. "I'm getting out the +money for him." + +"I thought you said your own name was Dick Hunter," said the cashier. + +"I said my name was Hunter," said Travis, ingeniously. "I didn't +understand you." + +"But you've signed the name of Dick Hunter to this order. How is +that?" questioned the troublesome cashier. + +Travis saw that he was getting himself into a tight place; but his +self-possession did not desert him. + +"I thought I must give my brother's name," he answered. + +"What is your own name?" + +"Henry Hunter." + +"Can you bring any one to testify that the statement you are +making is correct?" + +"Yes, a dozen if you like," said Travis, boldly. "Give me the book, +and I'll come back this afternoon. I didn't think there'd be such a +fuss about getting out a little money." + +"Wait a moment. Why don't your brother come himself?" + +"Because he's sick. He's down with the measles," said Travis. + +Here the cashier signed to Dick to rise and show himself. Our hero +accordingly did so. + +"You will be glad to find that he has recovered," said the cashier, +pointing to Dick. + +With an exclamation of anger and dismay, Travis, who saw the game +was up, started for the door, feeling that safety made such a course +prudent. But he was too late. He found himself confronted by a burly +policeman, who seized him by the arm, saying, "Not so fast, my man. +I want you." + +"Let me go," exclaimed Travis, struggling to free himself. + +"I'm sorry I can't oblige you," said the officer. "You'd better not +make a fuss, or I may have to hurt you a little." + +Travis sullenly resigned himself to his fate, darting a look of rage +at Dick, whom he considered the author of his present misfortune. + +"This is your book," said the cashier, handing back his rightful +property to our hero. "Do you wish to draw out any money?" + +"Two dollars," said Dick. + +"Very well. Write an order for the amount." + +Before doing so, Dick, who now that he saw Travis in the power of +the law began to pity him, went up to the officer, and said,-- + +"Won't you let him go? I've got my bank-book back, and I don't want +anything done to him." + +"Sorry I can't oblige you," said the officer; "but I'm not allowed +to do it. He'll have to stand his trial." + +"I'm sorry for you, Travis," said Dick. "I didn't want you arrested. +I only wanted my bank-book back." + +"Curse you!" said Travis, scowling vindictively. "Wait till I get +free. See if I don't fix you." + +"You needn't pity him too much," said the officer. "I know him now. +He's been to the Island before." + +"It's a lie," said Travis, violently. + +"Don't be too noisy, my friend," said the officer. "If you've got no +more business here, we'll be going." + +He withdrew with the prisoner in charge, and Dick, having drawn his +two dollars, left the bank. Notwithstanding the violent words the +prisoner had used towards himself, and his attempted robbery, he +could not help feeling sorry that he had been instrumental in +causing his arrest. + +"I'll keep my book a little safer hereafter," thought Dick. "Now I +must go and see Tom Wilkins." + +Before dismissing the subject of Travis and his theft, it may be +remarked that he was duly tried, and, his guilt being clear, was +sent to Blackwell's Island for nine months. At the end of that time, +on his release, he got a chance to work his passage on a ship to +San Francisco, where he probably arrived in due time. At any rate, +nothing more has been heard of him, and probably his threat of +vengence against Dick will never be carried into effect. + +Returning to the City Hall Park, Dick soon fell in with Tom Wilkins. + +"How are you, Tom?" he said. "How's your mother?" + +"She's better, Dick, thank you. She felt worried about bein' turned +out into the street; but I gave her that money from you, and now she +feels a good deal easier." + +"I've got some more for you, Tom," said Dick, producing a two-dollar +bill from his pocket. + +"I ought not to take it from you, Dick." + +"Oh, it's all right, Tom. Don't be afraid." + +"But you may need it yourself." + +"There's plenty more where that came from." + +"Any way, one dollar will be enough. With that we can pay the rent." + +"You'll want the other to buy something to eat." + +"You're very kind, Dick." + +"I'd ought to be. I've only got myself to take care of." + +"Well, I'll take it for my mother's sake. When you want anything +done just call on Tom Wilkins." + +"All right. Next week, if your mother doesn't get better, I'll give +you some more." + +Tom thanked our hero very gratefully, and Dick walked away, +feeling the self-approval which always accompanies a generous and +disinterested action. He was generous by nature, and, before +the period at which he is introduced to the reader's notice, he +frequently treated his friends to cigars and oyster-stews. Sometimes +he invited them to accompany him to the theatre at his expense. But +he never derived from these acts of liberality the same degree of +satisfaction as from this timely gift to Tom Wilkins. He felt that +his money was well bestowed, and would save an entire family from +privation and discomfort. Five dollars would, to be sure, make +something of a difference in the mount of his savings. It was more +than he was able to save up in a week. But Dick felt fully repaid +for what he had done, and he felt prepared to give as much more, +if Tom's mother should continue to be sick, and should appear to +him to need it. + +Besides all this, Dick felt a justifiable pride in his financial +ability to afford so handsome a gift. A year before, however much +he might have desired to give, it would have been quite out of his +power to give five dollars. His cash balance never reached that +amount. It was seldom, indeed, that it equalled one dollar. In +more ways than one Dick was beginning to reap the advantage of his +self-denial and judicious economy. + +It will be remembered that when Mr. Whitney at parting with Dick +presented him with five dollars, he told him that he might repay it +to some other boy who was struggling upward. Dick thought of this, +and it occurred to him that after all he was only paying up an old +debt. + +When Fosdick came home in the evening, Dick announced his success +in recovering his lost money, and described the manner it had been +brought about. + +"You're in luck," said Fosdick. "I guess we'd better not trust the +bureau-drawer again." + +"I mean to carry my book round with me," said Dick. + +"So shall I, as long as we stay at Mrs. Mooney's. I wish we were in +a better place." + +"I must go down and tell her she needn't expect Travis back. Poor +chap, I pity him!" + +Travis was never more seen in Mrs. Mooney's establishment. He was +owing that lady for a fortnight's rent of his room, which prevented +her feeling much compassion for him. The room was soon after let to +a more creditable tenant who proved a less troublesome neighbor than +his predecessor. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +DICK RECEIVES A LETTER + + +It was about a week after Dick's recovery of his bank-book, that +Fosdick brought home with him in the evening a copy of the "Daily +Sun." + +"Would you like to see your name in print, Dick?" he asked. + +"Yes," said Dick, who was busy at the wash-stand, endeavoring to +efface the marks which his day's work had left upon his hands. "They +haven't put me up for mayor, have they? 'Cause if they have, I +shan't accept. It would interfere too much with my private business." + +"No," said Fosdick, "they haven't put you up for office yet, though +that may happen sometime. But if you want to see your name in print, +here it is." + +Dick was rather incredulous, but, having dried his hands on the +towel, took the paper, and following the directions of Fosdick's +finger, observed in the list of advertised letters the name of +"RAGGED DICK." + +"By gracious, so it is," said he. "Do you s'poseit means me?" + +"I don't know of any other Ragged Dick,--do you?" + +"No," said Dick, reflectively; "it must be me. But I don't know of +anybody that would be likely to write to me." + +"Perhaps it is Frank Whitney," suggested Fosdick, after a little +reflection. "Didn't he promise to write to you?" + +"Yes," said Dick, "and he wanted me to write to him." + +"Where is he now?" + +"He was going to a boarding-school in Connecticut, he said. The name +of the town was Barnton." + +"Very likely the letter is from him." + +"I hope it is. Frank was a tip-top boy, and he was the first that +made me ashamed of bein' so ignorant and dirty." + +"You had better go to the post-office to-morrow morning, and ask for +the letter." + +"P'r'aps they won't give it to me." + +"Suppose you wear the old clothes you used to a year ago, when Frank +first saw you? They won't have any doubt of your being Ragged Dick +then." + +"I guess I will. I'll be sort of ashamed to be seen in 'em though," +said Dick, who had considerable more pride in a neat personal +appearance than when we were first introduced to him. + +"It will be only for one day, or one morning," said Fosdick. + +"I'd do more'n that for the sake of gettin' a letter from Frank. I'd +like to see him." + +The next morning, in accordance with the suggestion of Fosdick, Dick +arrayed himself in the long disused Washington coat and Napoleon +pants, which he had carefully preserved, for what reason he could +hardly explain. + +When fairly equipped, Dick surveyed himself in the mirror,--if the +little seven-by-nine-inch looking-glass, with which the room was +furnished, deserved the name. The result of the survey was not on +the whole a pleasing one. To tell the truth, Dick was quite ashamed +of his appearance, and, on opening the chamber-door, looked around +to see that the coast was clear, not being willing to have any of +his fellow-boarders see him in his present attire. + +He managed to slip out into the street unobserved, and, after +attending to two or three regular customers who came down-town +early in the morning, he made his way down Nassau Street to the +post-office. He passed along until he came to a compartment on +which he read ADVERTISED LETTERS, and, stepping up to the little +window, said,-- + +"There's a letter for me. I saw it advertised in the 'Sun' +yesterday." + +"What name?" demanded the clerk. + +"Ragged Dick," answered our hero. + +"That's a queer name," said the clerk, surveying him a little +curiously. "Are you Ragged Dick?" + +"If you don't believe me, look at my clo'es," said Dick. + +"That's pretty good proof, certainly," said the clerk, laughing. "If +that isn't your name, it deserves to be." + +"I believe in dressin' up to your name," said Dick. + +"Do you know any one in Barnton, Connecticut?" asked the clerk, who +had by this time found the letter. + +"Yes," said Dick. "I know a chap that's at boardin'-school there." + +"It appears to be in a boy's hand. I think it must be yours." + +The letter was handed to Dick through the window. He received it +eagerly, and drawing back so as not to be in the way of the throng +who were constantly applying for letters, or slipping them into the +boxes provided for them, hastily opened it, and began to read. As +the reader may be interested in the contents of the letter as well +as Dick, we transcribe it below. + +It was dated Barnton, Conn., and commenced thus,-- + + +"DEAR DICK,--You must excuse my addressing this letter to 'Ragged +Dick'; but the fact is, I don't know what your last name is, nor +where you live. I am afraid there is not much chance of your getting +this letter; but I hope you will. I have thought of you very often, +and wondered how you were getting along, and I should have written +to you before if I had known where to direct. + +"Let me tell you a little about myself. Barnton is a very +pretty country town, only about six miles from Hartford. The +boarding-school which I attend is under the charge of Ezekiel +Munroe, A.M. He is a man of about fifty, a graduate of Yale College, +and has always been a teacher. It is a large two-story house, with +an addition containing a good many small bed-chambers for the boys. +There are about twenty of us, and there is one assistant teacher who +teaches the English branches. Mr. Munroe, or Old Zeke, as we call +him behind his back, teaches Latin and Greek. I am studying both +these languages, because father wants me to go to college. + +"But you won't be interested in hearing about our studies. I will +tell you how we amuse ourselves. There are about fifty acres of land +belonging to Mr. Munroe; so that we have plenty of room for play. +About a quarter of a mile from the house there is a good-sized pond. +There is a large, round-bottomed boat, which is stout and strong. +Every Wednesday and Saturday afternoon, when the weather is good, we +go out rowing on the pond. Mr. Barton, the assistant teacher, goes +with us, to look after us. In the summer we are allowed to go in +bathing. In the winter there is splendid skating on the pond. + +"Besides this, we play ball a good deal, and we have various other +plays. So we have a pretty good time, although we study pretty hard +too. I am getting on very well in my studies. Father has not decided +yet where he will send me to college. + +"I wish you were here, Dick. I should enjoy your company, and +besides I should like to feel that you were getting an education. I +think you are naturally a pretty smart boy; but I suppose, as you +have to earn your own living, you don't get much chance to learn. I +only wish I had a few hundred dollars of my own. I would have you +come up here, and attend school with us. If I ever have a chance to +help you in any way, you may be sure that I will. + +"I shall have to wind up my letter now, as I have to hand in a +composition to-morrow, on the life and character of Washington. I +might say that I have a friend who wears a coat that once belonged +to the general. But I suppose that coat must be worn out by this +time. I don't much like writing compositions. I would a good deal +rather write letters. + +"I have written a longer letter than I meant to. I hope you will get +it, though I am afraid not. If you do, you must be sure to answer +it, as soon as possible. You needn't mind if your writing does look +like 'hens-tracks,' as you told me once. + +"Good-by, Dick. You must always think of me, as your very true +friend, + +"FRANK WHITNEY." + + +Dick read this letter with much satisfaction. It is always pleasant +to be remembered, and Dick had so few friends that it was more to +him than to boys who are better provided. Again, he felt a new sense +of importance in having a letter addressed to him. It was the first +letter he had ever received. If it had been sent to him a year +before, he would not have been able to read it. But now, thanks to +Fosdick's instructions, he could not only read writing, but he could +write a very good hand himself. + +There was one passage in the letter which pleased Dick. It was where +Frank said that if he had the money he would pay for his education +himself. + +"He's a tip-top feller," said Dick. "I wish I could see him ag'in." + +There were two reasons why Dick would like to have seen Frank. One +was, the natural pleasure he would have in meeting a friend; but he +felt also that he would like to have Frank witness the improvement +he had made in his studies and mode of life. + +"He'd find me a little more 'spectable than when he first saw me," +thought Dick. + +Dick had by this time got up to Printing House Square. Standing on +Spruce Street, near the "Tribune" office, was his old enemy, Micky +Maguire. + +It has already been said that Micky felt a natural enmity towards +those in his own condition in life who wore better clothes than +himself. For the last nine months, Dick's neat appearance had +excited the ire of the young Philistine. To appear in neat attire +and with a clean face Micky felt was a piece of presumption, and an +assumption of superiority on the part of our hero, and he termed it +"tryin' to be a swell." + +Now his astonished eyes rested on Dick in his ancient attire, which +was very similar to his own. It was a moment of triumph to him. He +felt that "pride had had a fall," and he could not forbear reminding +Dick of it. + +"Them's nice clo'es you've got on," said he, sarcastically, as Dick +came up. + +"Yes," said Dick, promptly. "I've been employin' your tailor. If my +face was only dirty we'd be taken for twin brothers." + +"So you've give up tryin' to be a swell?" + +"Only for this partic'lar occasion," said Dick. "I wanted to make a +fashionable call, so I put on my regimentals." + +"I don't b'lieve you've got any better clo'es," said Micky. + +"All right," said Dick, "I won't charge you nothin' for what you +believe." + +Here a customer presented himself for Micky, and Dick went back to +his room to change his clothes, before resuming business. + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +DICK WRITES HIS FIRST LETTER + + +When Fosdick reached home in the evening, Dick displayed his letter +with some pride. + +"It's a nice letter," said Fosdick, after reading it "I should like +to know Frank." + +"I'll bet you would," said Dick. "He's a trump." + +"When are you going to answer it?" + +"I don't know," said Dick, dubiously. "I never writ a letter." + +"That's no reason why you shouldn't. There's always a first time, +you know." + +"I don't know what to say," said Dick. + +"Get some paper and sit down to it, and you'll find enough to say. +You can do that this evening instead of studying." + +"If you'll look it over afterwards, and shine it up a little." + +"Yes, if it needs it; but I rather think Frank would like it best +just as you wrote it." + +Dick decided to adopt Fosdick's suggestion. He had very serious +doubts as to his ability to write a letter. Like a good many other +boys, he looked upon it as a very serious job, not reflecting that, +after all, letter-writing is nothing but talking upon paper. Still, +in spite of his misgivings, he felt that the letter ought to be +answered, and he wished Frank to hear from him. After various +preparations, he at last got setttled down to his task, and, before +the evening was over, a letter was written. As the first letter +which Dick had ever produced, and because it was characteristic +of him, my readers may like to read it. + +Here it is,-- + + +"DEAR FRANK,--I got your letter this mornin', and was very glad to +hear you hadn't forgotten Ragged Dick. I aint so ragged as I was. +Openwork coats and trowsers has gone out of fashion. I put on the +Washington coat and Napoleon pants to go to the post-office, for +fear they wouldn't think I was the boy that was meant. On my way +back I received the congratulations of my intimate friend, Micky +Maguire, on my improved appearance. + +"I've give up sleepin' in boxes, and old wagons, findin' it didn't +agree with my constitution. I've hired a room in Mott Street, and +have got a private tooter, who rooms with me and looks after my +studies in the evenin'. Mott Street aint very fashionable; but my +manshun on Fifth Avenoo isn't finished yet, and I'm afraid it won't +be till I'm a gray-haired veteran. I've got a hundred dollars +towards it, which I've saved up from my earnin's. I haven't forgot +what you and your uncle said to me, and I'm tryin' to grow up +'spectable. I haven't been to Tony Pastor's, or the Old Bowery, for +ever so long. I'd rather save up my money to support me in my old +age. When my hair gets gray, I'm goin' to knock off blackin' boots, +and go into some light, genteel employment, such as keepin' an +apple-stand, or disseminatin' pea-nuts among the people. + +"I've got so as to read pretty well, so my tooter says. I've been +studyin' geography and grammar also. I've made such astonishin' +progress that I can tell a noun from a conjunction as far away as +I can see 'em. Tell Mr. Munroe that if he wants an accomplished +teacher in his school, he can send for me, and I'll come on by the +very next train. Or, if he wants to sell out for a hundred dollars, +I'll buy the whole concern, and agree to teach the scholars all I +know myself in less than six months. Is teachin' as good business, +generally speakin', as blackin' boots? My private tooter combines +both, and is makin' a fortun' with great rapidity. He'll be as rich +as Astor some time, _if he only lives long enough._ + +"I should think you'd have a bully time at your school. I should +like to go out in the boat, or play ball with you. When are you +comin' to the city? I wish you'd write and let me know when you do, +and I'll call and see you. I'll leave my business in the hands of my +numerous clerks, and go round with you. There's lots of things you +didn't see when you was here before. They're getting on fast at the +Central Park. It looks better than it did a year ago. + +"I aint much used to writin' letters. As this is the first one I +ever wrote, I hope you'll excuse the mistakes. I hope you'll write +to me again soon. I can't write so good a letter as you; but, I'll +do my best, as the man said when he was asked if he could swim over +to Brooklyn backwards. Good-by, Frank. Thank you for all your +kindness. Direct your next letter to No. -- Mott Street. + + "Your true friend, + "DICK HUNTER," + + +When Dick had written the last word, he leaned back in his chair, +and surveyed the letter with much satisfaction. + +"I didn't think I could have wrote such a long letter, Fosdick," +said he. + +"Written would be more grammatical, Dick," suggested his friend. + +"I guess there's plenty of mistakes in it," said Dick. "Just look at +it, and see." + +Fosdick took the letter, and read it over carefully. + +"Yes, there are some mistakes," he said; "but it sounds so much like +you that I think it would be better to let it go just as it is. It +will be more likely to remind Frank of what you were when he first +saw you." + +"Is it good enough to send?" asked Dick, anxiously. + +"Yes; it seems to me to be quite a good letter. It is written just +as you talk. Nobody but you could have written such a letter, Dick. +I think Frank will be amused at your proposal to come up there as +teacher." + +"P'r'aps it would be a good idea for us to open a seleck school here +in Mott Street," said Dick, humorously. "We could call it 'Professor +Fosdick and Hunter's Mott Street Seminary.' Boot-blackin' taught by +Professor Hunter." + +The evening was so far advanced that Dick decided to postpone +copying his letter till the next evening. By this time he had come +to have a very fair handwriting, so that when the letter was +complete it really looked quite creditable, and no one would have +suspected that it was Dick's first attempt in this line. Our hero +surveyed it with no little complacency. In fact, he felt rather +proud of it, since it reminded him of the great progress he had +made. He carried it down to the post-office, and deposited it with +his own hands in the proper box. Just on the steps of the building, +as he was coming out, he met Johnny Nolan, who had been sent on an +errand to Wall Street by some gentleman, and was just returning. + +"What are you doin' down here, Dick?" asked Johnny. + +"I've been mailin' a letter." + +"Who sent you?" + +"Nobody." + +"I mean, who writ the letter?" + +"I wrote it myself." + +"Can you write letters?" asked Johnny, in amazement. + +"Why shouldn't I?" + +"I didn't know you could write. I can't." + +"Then you ought to learn." + +"I went to school once; but it was too hard work, so I give it up." + +"You're lazy, Johnny,--that's what's the matter. How'd you ever +expect to know anything, if you don't try?" + +"I can't learn." + +"You can, if you want to." + +Johnny Nolan was evidently of a different opinion. He was a +good-natured boy, large of his age, with nothing particularly bad +about him, but utterly lacking in that energy, ambition, and natural +sharpness, for which Dick was distinguished. He was not adapted to +succeed in the life which circumstances had forced upon him; for in +the street-life of the metropolis a boy needs to be on the alert, +and have all his wits about him, or he will find himself wholly +distanced by his more enterprising competitors for popular favor. To +succeed in his profession, humble as it is, a boot-black must depend +upon the same qualities which gain success in higher walks in +life. It was easy to see that Johnny, unless very much favored by +circumstances, would never rise much above his present level. For +Dick, we cannot help hoping much better things. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +AN EXCITING ADVENTURE + + +Dick now began to look about for a position in a store or +counting-room. Until he should obtain one he determined to devote +half the day to blacking boots, not being willing to break in upon +his small capital. He found that he could earn enough in half a day +to pay all his necessary expenses, including the entire rent of the +room. Fosdick desired to pay his half; but Dick steadily refused, +insisting upon paying so much as compensation for his friend's +services as instructor. + +It should be added that Dick's peculiar way of speaking and use of +slang terms had been somewhat modified by his education and his +intimacy with Henry Fosdick. Still he continued to indulge in them +to some extent, especially when he felt like joking, and it was +natural to Dick to joke, as my readers have probably found out by +this time. Still his manners were considerably improved, so that he +was more likely to obtain a situation than when first introduced +to our notice. + +Just now, however, business was very dull, and merchants, instead of +hiring new assistants, were disposed to part with those already in +their employ. After making several ineffectual applications, Dick +began to think he should be obliged to stick to his profession until +the next season. But about this time something occurred which +considerably improved his chances of preferment. + +This is the way it happened. + +As Dick, with a balance of more than a hundred dollars in the +savings bank, might fairly consider himself a young man of property, +he thought himself justified in occasionally taking a half holiday +from business, and going on an excursion. On Wednesday afternoon +Henry Fosdick was sent by his employer on an errand to that part of +Brooklyn near Greenwood Cemetery. Dick hastily dressed himself in +his best, and determined to accompany him. + +The two boys walked down to the South Ferry, and, paying their two +cents each, entered the ferry boat. They remained at the stern, and +stood by the railing, watching the great city, with its crowded +wharves, receding from view. Beside them was a gentleman with two +children,--a girl of eight and a little boy of six. The children +were talking gayly to their father. While he was pointing out some +object of interest to the little girl, the boy managed to creep, +unobserved, beneath the chain that extends across the boat, for the +protection of passengers, and, stepping incautiously to the edge +of the boat, fell over into the foaming water. + +At the child's scream, the father looked up, and, with a cry of +horror, sprang to the edge of the boat. He would have plunged in, +but, being unable to swim, would only have endangered his own life, +without being able to save his child. + +"My child!" he exclaimed in anguish,--"who will save my child? A +thousand--ten thousand dollars to any one who will save him!" + +There chanced to be but few passengers on board at the time, and +nearly all these were either in the cabins or standing forward. +Among the few who saw the child fall was our hero. + +Now Dick was an expert swimmer. It was an accomplishment which he +had possessed for years, and he no sooner saw the boy fall than he +resolved to rescue him. His determination was formed before he heard +the liberal offer made by the boy's father. Indeed, I must do Dick +the justice to say that, in the excitement of the moment, he did not +hear it at all, nor would it have stimulated the alacrity with which +he sprang to the rescue of the little boy. + +Little Johnny had already risen once, and gone under for the second +time, when our hero plunged in. He was obliged to strike out for +the boy, and this took time. He reached him none too soon. Just as +he was sinking for the third and last time, he caught him by the +jacket. Dick was stout and strong, but Johnny clung to him so +tightly, that it was with great difficulty he was able to sustain +himself. + +"Put your arms round my neck," said Dick. + +The little boy mechanically obeyed, and clung with a grasp +strengthened by his terror. In this position Dick could bear his +weight better. But the ferry-boat was receding fast. It was quite +impossible to reach it. The father, his face pale with terror and +anguish, and his hands clasped in suspense, saw the brave boy's +struggles, and prayed with agonizing fervor that he might be +successful. But it is probable, for they were now midway of the +river, that both Dick and the little boy whom he had bravely +undertaken to rescue would have been drowned, had not a row-boat +been fortunately near. The two men who were in it witnessed the +accident, and hastened to the rescue of our hero. + +"Keep up a little longer," they shouted, bending to their oars, +"and we will save you." + +Dick heard the shout, and it put fresh strength into him. He battled +manfully with the treacherous sea, his eyes fixed longingly upon the +approaching boat. + +"Hold on tight, little boy," he said. "There's a boat coming." + +The little boy did not see the boat. His eyes were closed to shut +out the fearful water, but he clung the closer to his young +preserver. Six long, steady strokes, and the boat dashed along side. +Strong hands seized Dick and his youthful burden, and drew them into +the boat, both dripping with water. + +"God be thanked!" exclaimed the father, as from the steamer he saw +the child's rescue. "That brave boy shall be rewarded, if I +sacrifice my whole fortune to compass it." + +"You've had a pretty narrow escape, young chap," said one of the +boatmen to Dick. "It was a pretty tough job you undertook." + +"Yes," said Dick. "That's what I thought when I was in the water. If +it hadn't been for you, I don't know what would have 'come of us." + +"Anyhow you're a plucky boy, or you wouldn't have dared to jump into +the water after this little chap. It was a risky thing to do." + +"I'm used to the water," said Dick, modestly. "I didn't stop to +think of the danger, but I wasn't going to see that little fellow +drown without tryin' to save him." + +The boat at once headed for the ferry wharf on the Brooklyn side. +The captain of the ferry-boat, seeing the rescue, did not think +it necessary to stop his boat, but kept on his way. The whole +occurrence took place in less time than I have occupied in +telling it. + +The father was waiting on the wharf to receive his little boy, with +what feelings of gratitude and joy can be easily understood. With a +burst of happy tears he clasped him to his arms. Dick was about to +withdraw modestly, but the gentleman perceived the movement, and, +putting down the child, came forward, and, clasping his hand, said +with emotion, "My brave boy, I owe you a debt I can never repay. +But for your timely service I should now be plunged into an anguish +which I cannot think of without a shudder." + +Our hero was ready enough to speak on most occasions, but always +felt awkward when he was praised. + +"It wasn't any trouble," he said, modestly. "I can swim like a top." + +"But not many boys would have risked their lives for a stranger," +said the gentleman. "But," he added with a sudden thought, as his +glance rested on Dick's dripping garments, "both you and my little +boy will take cold in wet clothes. Fortunately I have a friend +living close at hand, at whose house you will have an opportunity +of taking off your clothes, and having them dried." + +Dick protested that he never took cold; but Fosdick, who had now +joined them, and who, it is needless to say, had been greatly +alarmed at Dick's danger, joined in urging compliance with the +gentleman's proposal, and in the end our hero had to yield. His +new friend secured a hack, the driver of which agreed for extra +recompense to receive the dripping boys into his carriage, and they +were whirled rapidly to a pleasant house in a side street, where +matters were quickly explained, and both boys were put to bed. + +"I aint used to goin' to bed quite so early," thought Dick. "This is +the queerest excursion I ever took." + +Like most active boys Dick did not enjoy the prospect of spending +half a day in bed; but his confinement did not last as long as he +anticipated. + +In about an hour the door of his chamber was opened, and a servant +appeared, bringing a new and handsome suit of clothes throughout. + +"You are to put on these," said the servant to Dick; "but you +needn't get up till you feel like it." + +"Whose clothes are they?" asked Dick. + +"They are yours." + +"Mine! Where did they come from?" + +"Mr. Rockwell sent out and bought them for you. They are the +same size as your wet ones." + +"Is he here now?" + +"No. He bought another suit for the little boy, and has gone back to +New York. Here's a note he asked me to give you." + +Dick opened the paper, and read as follows,-- + + +"Please accept this outfit of clothes as the first instalment of +a debt which I can never repay. I have asked to have your wet suit +dried, when you can reclaim it. Will you oblige me by calling +to-morrow at my counting room, No. --, Pearl Street. + + "Your friend, + "JAMES ROCKWELL." + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +CONCLUSION + + +When Dick was dressed in his new suit, he surveyed his figure with +pardonable complacency. It was the best he had ever worn, and fitted +him as well as if it had been made expressly for him. + +"He's done the handsome thing," said Dick to himself; "but there +wasn't no 'casion for his givin' me these clothes. My lucky stars +are shinin' pretty bright now. Jumpin' into the water pays better +than shinin' boots; but I don't think I'd like to try it more'n once +a week." + +About eleven o'clock the next morning Dick repaired to Mr. +Rockwell's counting-room on Pearl Street. He found himself in front +of a large and handsome warehouse. The counting-room was on the +lower floor. Our hero entered, and found Mr. Rockwell sitting at a +desk. No sooner did that gentleman see him than he arose, and, +advancing, shook Dick by the hand in the most friendly manner. + +"My young friend," he said, "you have done me so great service that +I wish to be of some service to you in return. Tell me about +yourself, and what plans or wishes you have formed for the future." + +Dick frankly related his past history, and told Mr. Rockwell of his +desire to get into a store or counting-room, and of the failure of +all his applications thus far. The merchant listened attentively to +Dick's statement, and, when he had finished, placed a sheet of paper +before him, and, handing him a pen, said, "Will you write your name +on this piece of paper?" + +Dick wrote in a free, bold hand, the name Richard Hunter. He had +very much improved in his penmanship, as has already been mentioned, +and now had no cause to be ashamed of it. + +Mr. Rockwell surveyed it approvingly. + +"How would you like to enter my counting-room as clerk, Richard?" he +asked. + +Dick was about to say "Bully," when he recollected himself, and +answered, "Very much." + +"I suppose you know something of arithmetic, do you not?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Then you may consider yourself engaged at a salary of ten dollars a +week. You may come next Monday morning." + +"Ten dollars!" repeated Dick, thinking he must have misunderstood. + +"Yes; will that be sufficient?" + +"It's more than I can earn," said Dick, honestly. + +"Perhaps it is at first," said Mr. Rockwell, smiling; "but I am +willing to pay you that. I will besides advance you as fast as your +progress will justify it." + +Dick was so elated that he hardly restrained himself from some +demonstration which would have astonished the merchant; but he +exercised self-control, and only said, "I'll try to serve you so +faithfully, sir, that you won't repent having taken me into your +service." + +"And I think you will succeed," said Mr. Rockwell, encouragingly. "I +will not detain you any longer, for I have some important business +to attend to. I shall expect to see you on Monday morning." + +Dick left the counting-room, hardly knowing whether he stood on his +head or his heels, so overjoyed was he at the sudden change in his +fortunes. Ten dollars a week was to him a fortune, and three times +as much as he had expected to obtain at first. Indeed he would have +been glad, only the day before, to get a place at three dollars a +week. He reflected that with the stock of clothes which he had now +on hand, he could save up at least half of it, and even then live +better than he had been accustomed to do; so that his little fund in +the savings bank, instead of being diminished, would be steadily +increasing. Then he was to be advanced if he deserved it. It was +indeed a bright prospect for a boy who, only a year before, could +neither read nor write, and depended for a night's lodging upon +the chance hospitality of an alley-way or old wagon. Dick's great +ambition to "grow up 'spectable" seemed likely to be accomplished +after all. + +"I wish Fosdick was as well off as I am," he thought generously. But +he determined to help his less fortunate friend, and assist him up +the ladder as he advanced himself. + +When Dick entered his room on Mott Street, he discovered that some +one else had been there before him, and two articles of wearing +apparel had disappeared. + +"By gracious!" he exclaimed; "somebody's stole my Washington coat +and Napoleon pants. Maybe it's an agent of Barnum's, who expects to +make a fortun' by exhibitin' the valooable wardrobe of a gentleman +of fashion." + +Dick did not shed many tears over his loss, as, in his present +circumstances, he never expected to have any further use for the +well-worn garments. It may be stated that he afterwards saw them +adorning the figure of Micky Maguire; but whether that estimable +young man stole them himself, he never ascertained. As to the loss, +Dick was rather pleased that it had occurred. It seemed to cut him +off from the old vagabond life which he hoped never to resume. +Henceforward he meant to press onward, and rise as high as possible. + +Although it was yet only noon, Dick did not go out again with his +brush. He felt that it was time to retire from business. He would +leave his share of the public patronage to other boys less fortunate +than himself. That evening Dick and Fosdick had a long conversation. +Fosdick rejoiced heartily in his friend's success, and on his side +had the pleasant news to communicate that his pay had been advanced +to six dollars a week. + +"I think we can afford to leave Mott Street now," he continued. +"This house isn't as neat as it might be, and I shall like to live +in a nicer quarter of the city." + +"All right," said Dick. "We'll hunt up a new room to-morrow. I shall +have plenty of time, having retired from business. I'll try to get +my reg'lar customers to take Johnny Nolan in my place. That boy +hasn't any enterprise. He needs some body to look out for him." + +"You might give him your box and brush, too, Dick." + +"No," said Dick; "I'll give him some new ones, but mine I want +to keep, to remind me of the hard times I've had, when I was an +ignorant boot-black, and never expected to be anything better." + +"When, in short, you were 'Ragged Dick.' You must drop that name, +and think of yourself now as"-- + +"Richard Hunter, Esq.," said our hero, smiling. + +"A young gentleman on the way to fame and fortune," added Fosdick. + + + ------- + + +Here ends the story of Ragged Dick. As Fosdick said, he is Ragged Dick +no longer. He has taken a step upward, and is determined to mount still +higher. There are fresh adventures in store for him, and for others who +have been introduced in these pages. Those who have felt interested in +his early life will find his history continued in a new volume, forming +the second of the series, to be called,-- + +FAME AND FORTUNE; + +OR, + +THE PROGRESS OF RICHARD HUNTER. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ragged Dick, by Horatio Alger + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAGGED DICK *** + +This file should be named rgddk10.txt or rgddk10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, rgddk11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, rgddk10a.txt + +Digitized by Cardinalis Etext Press [C.E.K.] +Prepared for Project Gutenberg by Andrew Sly + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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