Ragged Dick, Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot-Blacks by Jr. Horatio Alger (best ereader for students TXT) đź“•
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- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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“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.
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
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