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The class of boys described in the present volume was called into existence only a few years since, but they are already so numerous that one can scarcely ride down town by any conveyance without having one for a fellow-passenger. Most of them reside with their parents and have comfortable homes, but a few, like the hero of this story, are wholly dependent on their own exertions for a livelihood.
"Twenty-five cents to begin the world with!" reflected Frank Kavanagh, drawing from his vest-pocket two ten-cent pieces of currency and a nickel. "That isn't much, but it will have to do."
The speaker, a boy of fifteen, was sitting on a bench in City-Hall Park. He was apparently about fifteen years old, with a face not handsome, but frank and good-humored, and an expression indicating an energetic and hopeful temperament. A small bundle, rolled up in a handkerchief, contained his surplus wardrobe. He had that day arrived in New York by a boat from Hartford, and meant to stay in the city if he could make a living.
Next to him sat a man of thirty-five, shabbily dressed, who clearly was not a member of any temperance society, if an inflamed countenance and red nose may be trusted. Frank Kavanagh's display of money attracted his attention, for, small as was the boy's capital, it was greater than his own.
"Been long in the city, Johnny?" he inquired.
"I only arrived to-day," answered Frank. "My name isn't Johnny, though."
"It's immaterial. Johnny is a generic term," said the stranger. "I suppose you have come here to make your fortune."
"I shall be satisfied with a living to begin with," said Frank.
"Where did you come from?"
"A few miles from Hartford."
"Got any relations there?"
"Yes,-an uncle and aunt."
"I suppose you were sorry to leave them."
"Not much. Uncle is a pretty good man, but he's fond of money, and aunt is about as mean as they make 'em. They got tired of supporting me, and gave me money enough to get to New York."
"I suppose you have some left," said the stranger, persuasively.
"Twenty-five cents," answered Frank, laughing. "That isn't a very big capital to start on, is it?"
"Is that all you've got?" asked the shabbily dressed stranger, in a tone of disappointment.
"Every cent."
"I wish I had ten dollars to give you," said the stranger, thoughtfully.
"Thank you, sir; I wish you had," said Frank, his eyes resting on the dilapidated attire of his benevolent companion. Judging from that, he was not surprised that ten dollars exceeded the charitable fund of the philanthropist.
"My operations in Wall street have not been fortunate of late," resumed the stranger; "and I am in consequence hard up."
"Do you do business in Wall street?" asked Frank, rather surprised.
"Sometimes," was the reply. "I have lost heavily of late in Erie and Pacific Mail, but it is only temporary. I shall soon be on my feet again."
"I hope so, sir," said Frank, politely.
"My career has been a chequered one," continued the stranger. "I, too, as a mere boy, came up from the country to make my fortune. I embarked in trade, and was for a time successful. I resigned to get time to write a play,-a comedy in five acts."
Frank regarded his companion with heightened respect. He was a boy of good education, and the author of a play in his eyes was a man of genius.
"Was it played?" he inquired.
"No; Wallack said it had too many difficult characters for his company, and the rest of the managers kept putting me off, while they were producing inferior plays. The American public will never know what they have lost. But, enough of this. Sometime I will read you the 'Mother-in-law,' if you like. Have you had dinner?"
"No," answered Frank. "Do you know where I can dine cheap?" he inquired.
"Yes," answered the stranger. "Once I boarded at the Astor House, but now I am forced, by dire necessity, to frequent cheap restaurants. Follow me."
"What is your name, sir?" asked Frank, as he rose from the bench.
"Montagu Percy," was the reply. "Sorry I haven't my card-case with me, or I would hand you my address. I think you said your name was not Johnny."
"My name is Frank Kavanagh."
"A very good name. 'What's in a name?' as Shakespeare says."
As the oddly assorted pair crossed the street, and walked down Nassau street, they attracted the attention of some of the Arabs who were lounging about Printing-House square.
"I say, country, is that your long-lost uncle?" asked a boot-black.
"No, it isn't," answered Frank, shortly.
Though he was willing to avail himself of Mr. Percy's guidance, he was not ambitious of being regarded as his nephew.
"Heed not their ribald scoffs," said Montagu Percy, loftily. "Their words pass by me 'like the idle wind,' which I regard not."
"Who painted your nose, mister?" asked another boy, of course addressing Frank's companion.
"I will hand you over to the next policeman," exclaimed Percy, angrily.
"Look out he don't haul you in, instead," retorted the boy.
Montagu Percy made a motion to pursue his tormentors, but desisted.
"They are beneath contempt," he said. "It is ever the lot of genius to be railed at by the ignorant and ignoble. They referred to my nose being red, but mistook the cause. It is a cutaneous eruption,-the result of erysipelas."
"Is it?" asked Frank, rather mystified.
"I am not a drinking man-that is, I indulge myself but rarely. But here we are."
So saying he plunged down some steps into a basement, Frank following him. Our hero found himself in a dirty apartment, provided with a bar, over which was a placard, inscribed:-
"FREE LUNCH."
"How much money have you got, Frank?" inquired Montagu Percy.
"Twenty-five cents."
"Lunch at this establishment is free," said Montagu; "but you are expected to order some drink. What will you have?"
"I don't care for any drink except a glass of water."
"All right; I will order for you, as the rules of the establishment require it; but I will drink your glass myself. Eat whatever you like."
Frank took a sandwich from a plate on the counter and ate it with relish, for he was hungry. Meanwhile his companion emptied the two glasses, and ordered another.
"Can you pay for these drinks?" asked the bar-tender, suspiciously.
"Sir, I never order what I cannot pay for."
"I don't know about that. You've been in here and taken lunch more than once without drinking anything."
"It may be so. I will make up for it now. Another glass, please."
"First pay for what you have already drunk."
"Frank, hand me your money," said Montagu.
Frank incautiously handed him his small stock of money, which he saw instantly transferred to the bar-tender.
"That is right, I believe," said Montagu Percy.
The bar-keeper nodded, and Percy, transferring his attention to the free lunch, stowed away a large amount.
Frank observed with some uneasiness the transfer of his entire cash capital to the bar-tender; but concluded that Mr. Percy would refund a part after they went out. As they reached the street he broached the subject.
"I didn't agree to pay for both dinners," he said, uneasily.
"Of course not. It will be my treat next time. That will be fair, won't it?"
"But I would rather you would give me back a part of my money. I may not see you again."
"I will be in the Park to-morrow at one o'clock."
"Give me back ten cents, then," said Frank, uneasily. "That was all the money I had."
"I am really sorry, but I haven't a penny about me. I'll make it right to-morrow. Good-day, my young friend. Be virtuous and you will be happy."
Frank looked after the shabby figure ruefully. He felt that he had been taken in and done for. His small capital had vanished, and he was adrift in the streets of a strange city without a penny.
* * *
Slow and Sure: The Story of Paul Hoffman the Young Street-Merchant by Jr. Horatio Alger
Alger's writings happened to correspond with America's Gilded Age, a time of increasing prosperity in a nation rebuilding from the Civil War.This is another fine work by Alger in the vein of 'rags to riches' tales.
A youth of sturdy qualities elects to follow the calling of a deckhand on a Hudson River steamboat...
Alger describes young men in the city trying to get a head as newsboys, match boys, pedlars, street musicians, and many others. Through luck and hard work, sixteen-year-old Ohio farm boy Nat finds surprising success in nineteenth-century New York City.
This book is written in the typical Alger style. Herbert is a poor boy who sets out, with the help of his great uncle, to clear his father's name of a crime he did not commit...
This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the original. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature in affordable, high quality, modern editions that are true to the original work.
Kara Martin was known as Miss Perfect. She was a beauty with good personality and successful career. Unfortunately, her life changed at one night. She was accused of adultery, losing her job, and abandoned by her fiance. The arrogant man who slept with her did not want to take responsibility. He even threatened to kill her if they met again. What's worse, Kara was pregnant with twins and she chose to give birth to them. Four and a half years later, Kara returned to work at a large company. As the secretary, she would frequently face their notorious CEO. Kara thought it wouldn't be a problem, but as it turned out ... the CEO was the father of the twins!
Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."
After being kicked out of her home, Harlee learned she wasn't the biological daughter of her family. Rumors had it that her impoverished biological family favored sons and planned to profit from her return. Unexpectedly, her real father was a zillionaire, catapulting her into immense wealth and making her the most cherished member of the family. While they anticipated her disgrace, Harlee secretly held design patents worth billions. Celebrated for her brilliance, she was invited to mentor in a national astronomy group, drew interest from wealthy suitors, and caught the eye of a mysterious figure, ascending to legendary status.
Rena got into an entanglement with a big shot when she was drunk one night. She needed Waylen's help while he was drawn to her youthful beauty. As such, what was supposed to be a one-night stand progressed into something serious. All was well until Rena discovered that Waylen's heart belonged to another woman. When his first love returned, he stopped coming home, leaving Rena all alone for many nights. She put up with it until she received a check and farewell note one day. Contrary to how Waylen expected her to react, Rena had a smile on her face as she bid him farewell. "It was fun while it lasted, Waylen. May our paths never cross. Have a nice life." But as fate would have it, their paths crossed again. This time, Rena had another man by her side. Waylen's eyes burned with jealousy. He spat, "How the hell did you move on? I thought you loved only me!" "Keyword, loved!" Rena flipped her hair back and retorted, "There are plenty of fish in the sea, Waylen. Besides, you were the one who asked for a breakup. Now, if you want to date me, you have to wait in line." The next day, Rena received a credit alert of billions and a diamond ring. Waylen appeared again, got down on one knee, and uttered, "May I cut in line, Rena? I still want you."
It was supposed to be a marriage of convenience, but Carrie made the mistake of falling in love with Kristopher. When the time came that she needed him the most, her husband was in the company of another woman. Enough was enough. Carrie chose to divorce Kristopher and move on with her life. Only when she left did Kristopher realize how important she was to him. In the face of his ex-wife’s countless admirers, Kristopher offered her 20 million dollars and proposed a new deal. “Let’s get married again.”
"Ahh!" She was in a moaning mess. She did not want to feel anything for this man. She hated him. His hands began to move all over her body. She gasped when he pulled down the back chain of her dress. The chain stopped at her lower waist, so when he zipped it off, her upper back and waist were exposed. "D-Don't touch m-ummm!" His fingers rolled around her bare back, and she pressed her head against the pillow. His touches were giving her goosebumps all over her body. With a deep angry voice, he whispered in her ear, "I am going to make you forget his touches, kisses, and everything. Every time you touch another man, you will only think of me." - - - Ava Adler was a nerdy omega. People bullied her because they thought she was ugly and unattractive. But Ava secretly loved the bad boy, Ian Dawson. He was the future Alpha of the Mystic Shadow Pack. However, he doesn't give a damn about rules and laws, as he only likes to play around with girls. Ava was unaware of Ian's arrogance until her fate intertwined with his. He neglected her and hurt her deeply. What would happen when Ava turned out to be a beautiful girl who could win over any boy, and Ian looked back and regretted his decisions? What if she had a secret identity that she had yet to discover? What if the tables turned and Ian begged her not to leave him?