Cast Upon the Breakers by Jr. Horatio Alger (i love reading books TXT) đź“•
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- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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“Ditto for me. Now what have you been doing this morning?”
“Looking for a place.”
“With what success?”
“Pretty good if I had only been earlier.”
Rodney told the story of his application to the manager of the railroad office.
“You will know better next time. I think you’ll succeed. I did. When I came to New York at the age of twenty two I had only fifty dollars. That small sum had to last me twelve weeks. You can judge that I didn’t live on the fat of the land during that time. I couldn’t often eat at Delmonico’s. Even Beefsteak John’s would have been too expensive for me. However, those old days are over.”
The next day and the two following Rodney went about the city making application for positions, but every place seemed full.
On the third day Mr. Woods said, “I shall have to leave you for a week or more, Rodney.”
“Where are you going?”
“To Philadelphia. There’s a man there who is a capitalist and likes land investments. I am going to visit him, and hope to sell him several lots. He once lived in this city, so he won’t object to New York investments.”
“I hope you will succeed, Mr. Woods. I think if you are going away I had better give up the room, and find cheaper accommodations. I am getting near the end of my money.”
“You are right. It is best to be prudent.”
That evening Rodney found a room which he could rent for two dollars a week. He estimated that by economy he could get along for fifty cents a day for his eating, and that would be a decided saving.
He was just leaving the house the next morning, gripsack in hand, when on the steps he met Louis Wheeler, his acquaintance of the train.
“Where are you going?” asked Wheeler.
“I am leaving this house. I have hired a room elsewhere.”
Wheeler’s countenance fell, and he looked dismayed.
“Why, I have just taken a room here for a week,” he said.
“You will find it a good place.”
“But—I wouldn’t have come here if I hadn’t thought I should have company.”
“I ought to feel complimented.”
Rodney was convinced that Wheeler had come in the hopes of stealing the casket of jewels a second time, and he felt amused at the fellow’s discomfiture.
“You haven’t got your jewel box with you?”
“No, I can take that another time.”
“Then it’s still in the house,” thought Wheeler with satisfaction. “It won’t be my fault if I don’t get it in my hands. Well, good morning,” he said. “Come around and call on me.”
“Thank you!”
CHAPTER VII.
AT THE NEWSBOY’S LODGING HOUSE.
Within a week Rodney had spent all his money, with the exception of about fifty cents. He had made every effort to obtain a place, but without success.
Boys born and bred in New York have within my observation tried for months to secure a position in vain, so it is not surprising that Rodney who was a stranger proved equally unsuccessful.
Though naturally hopeful Rodney became despondent.
“There seems to be no place for me,” he said to himself. “When I was at boarding school I had no idea how difficult it is for a boy to earn a living.”
He had one resource. He could withdraw the box of jewels from Tiffany’s, and sell some article that it contained. But this he had a great objection to doing. One thing was evident however, he must do something.
His friend, the lot agent, was out of town, and he hardly knew whom to advise with. At last Mike Flynn, the friendly bootblack, whose acquaintance he had made in front of the Astor House, occurred to him.
Mike, humble as he was, was better off than himself. Moreover he was a New York boy, and knew more about “hustling” than Rodney did. So he sought out Mike in his “office.”
“Good morning, Mike,” said Rodney, as the bootblack was brushing off a customer.
“Oh, its you, Rodney,” said Mike smiling with evident pleasure. “How you’re gettin’ on?”
“Not at all.”
“That’s bad. Can I help you? Just say the word, and I’ll draw a check for you on the Park Bank.”
“Is that where you keep your money?”
“It’s one of my banks. You don’t think I’d put all my spondulics in one bank, do you?”
“I won’t trouble you to draw a check this morning. I only want to ask some advice.”
“I’ve got plenty of that.”
“I haven’t been able to get anything to do, and I have only fifty cents left. I can’t go on like that.”
“That’s so.”
“I’ve got to give up my room on Fourteenth Street. I can’t pay for it any longer. Do you think I could get in at the Lodge?”
“Yes. I’ll introduce you to Mr. O’Connor.”
“When shall I meet you?”
“At five o’clock. We’ll be in time for supper.”
“All right.”
At five o’clock Mike accompanied Rodney to the large Newsboys’ Lodging House on New Chambers Street. Mr. O’Connor, the popular and efficient superintendent, now dead, looked in surprise at Mike’s companion. He was a stout man with a kindly face, and Rodney felt that he would prove to be a friend.
“Mr. O’Connor, let me introduce me friend, Mr. Rodney Ropes,” said Mike.
“Could you give me a lodging?” asked Rodney in an embarrassed tone.
“Yes; but I am surprised to see a boy of your appearance here.”
“I am surprised to be here myself,” admitted Rodney.
The superintendent fixed upon him a shrewd, but kindly glance.
“Have you run away from home?” he asked.
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