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Slow and Sure: The Story of Paul Hoffman the Young Street-Merchant
Slow and Sure: The Story of Paul Hoffman the Young Street-Merchant by Jr. Horatio Alger
Slow and Sure: The Story of Paul Hoffman the Young Street-Merchant by Jr. Horatio Alger
"It's most time for Paul to come home," said Mrs. Hoffman. "I must be setting the table for supper."
"I wonder how he will like my new picture," said Jimmy, a delicate boy of eight, whose refined features, thoughtful look, and high brow showed that his mind by no means shared the weakness of his body. Though only eight years of age he already manifested a remarkable taste and talent for drawing, in which he had acquired surprising skill, considering that he had never taken lessons, but had learned all he knew from copying such pictures as fell in his way.
"Let me see your picture, Jimmy," said Mrs. Hoffman. "Have you finished it?"
She came up and looked over his shoulder. He had been engaged in copying a humorous picture from the last page of Harper's Weekly. It was an ambitious attempt on the part of so young a pupil, but he had succeeded remarkably well, reproducing with close fidelity the grotesque expressions of the figures introduced in the picture.
"That is excellent, Jimmy," said his mother in warm commendation.
The little boy looked gratified.
"Do you think I will be an artist some day?" he asked.
"I have no doubt of it," said his mother, "if you can only obtain suitable instruction. However, there is plenty of time for that. You are only seven years old."
"I shall be eight to-morrow," said Jimmy, straightening up his slender form with the pride which every boy feels in advancing age.
"So you will. I had forgotten it."
"I wonder whether I can earn as much money as Paul when I get as old," said Jimmy thoughtfully. "I don't think I can. I shan't be half as strong."
"It isn't always the strongest who earn the most money," said his mother.
"But Paul is smart as well as strong."
"So are you smart. You can read unusually well for a boy of your age, and in drawing I think Paul is hardly your equal, though he is twice as old."
Jimmy laughed.
"That's true, mother," he said. "Paul tried to draw a horse the other day, and it looked more like a cow."
"You see then that we all have our different gifts. Paul has a talent for business."
"I think he'll be rich some day, mother."
"I hope he will, for I think he will make a good use of his money."
While Mrs. Hoffman was speaking she had been setting the table for supper. The meal was not a luxurious one, but there was no lack of food. Beside rolls and butter, there was a plate of cold meat, an apple pie, and a pot of steaming hot tea. The cloth was scrupulously clean, and I am sure that though the room was an humble one not one of my readers need have felt a repugnance to sitting down at Mrs. Hoffman's plain table.
For the benefit of such as may not have read "Paul the Peddler," I will explain briefly that Mrs. Hoffman, by the death of her husband two years previous, had been reduced to poverty, which compelled her to move into a tenement house and live as best she could on the earnings of her oldest son, Paul, supplemented by the pittance she obtained for sewing. Paul, a smart, enterprising boy, after trying most of the street occupations, had become a young street merchant. By a lucky chance he had obtained capital enough to buy out a necktie stand below the Astor House, where his tact and energy had enabled him to achieve a success, the details of which we will presently give. Besides his own profits, he was able to employ his mother in making neckties at a compensation considerably greater than she could have obtained from the Broadway shops for which she had hitherto worked.
Scarcely was supper placed on the table when Paul entered. He was a stout, manly boy of fifteen, who would readily have been taken for a year or two older, with a frank, handsome face, and an air of confidence and self-reliance, which he had acquired through his independent efforts to gain a livelihood. He had been thrown upon his own resources at an age when most boys have everything done for them, and though this had been a disadvantage so far as his education was concerned, it had developed in him a confidence in himself and his own ability to cope with the world not usually found in boys of his age.
"Well, mother," said he briskly, "I am glad supper is ready, for I am as hungry as a wolf."
"I think there will be enough for you," said his mother, smiling. "If not, we will send to the baker's for an extra supply."
"Is a wolf hungry, Paul?" asked Jimmy, soberly accepting Paul's simile.
"I'll draw you one after supper, Jimmy, and you can judge," answered Paul.
"Your animals all look like cows, Paul," said his little brother.
"I see you are jealous of me," said Paul, with much indignation, "because I draw better than you."
"After supper you can look at my last picture," said Jimmy. "It is copied from Harper's Weekly."
"Pass it along now, Jimmy. I don't think it will spoil my appetite."
Jimmy handed it to his brother with a look of pardonable pride.
"Excellent, Jimmy. I couldn't do it better myself," said Paul. "You are a little genius."
"I like drawing so much, Paul. I hope some time I can do something else besides copy."
"No doubt you will. I am sure you will be a famous artist some day, and make no end of money by your pictures."
"That's what I would like-to make money."
"Fie, Jimmy! I had no idea you were so fond of money."
"I would like to help mother just as you are doing, Paul. Do you think I will ever earn as much as you do?"
"A great deal more, I hope, Jimmy. Not but what I am doing well," added Paul in a tone of satisfaction. "Did you know, mother, it is six months to-day since I bought out the necktie stand?"
"Is it, Paul?" asked his mother with interest. "Have you succeeded as well as you anticipated?"
"Better, mother. It was a good idea putting in a case of knives. They help along my profits. Why, I sold four knives to-day, making on an average twenty-five cents each."
"Did you? That is indeed worth while."
"It is more than I used to average for a whole day's earnings before I went into this business."
"How many neckties did you sell, Paul?" asked Jimmy.
"I sold fourteen."
"How much profit did you make on each?"
"About fourteen cents. Can you tell how much that makes?"
"I could cipher it out on my slate."
"No matter; I'll tell you. It makes a dollar and ninety-six cents. That added to the money I made on the knives amounts to two dollars and ninety-six cents."
"Almost three dollars."
"Yes; sometimes I sell more neckties, but then I don't always sell as many knives. However, I am satisfied."
"I have made two dozen neckties to-day, Paul," said his mother.
"I am afraid you did too much, mother."
"Oh, no. There isn't much work about a necktie."
"Then I owe you a dollar and twenty cents, mother."
"I don't think you ought to pay me five cents apiece, Paul."
"That's fair enough, mother. If I get fourteen cents for selling a tie, certainly you ought to get five cents for making one."
"But your money goes to support us, Paul."
"And where does yours go, mother?"
"A part of it has gone for a new dress, Paul. I went up to Stewart's to-day and bought a dress pattern. I will show it to you after supper."
"That's right, mother. You don't buy enough new dresses. Considering that you are the mother of a successful merchant, you ought to dash out. Doesn't Jimmy want some clothes?"
"I am going to buy him a new suit to-morrow. He is eight years old to-morrow."
"Is he? What an old fellow you are getting to be, Jimmy! How many gray hairs have you got?"
"I haven't counted," said Jimmy, laughing.
"I tell you what, mother, we must celebrate Jimmy's birthday. He is the only artist in the family, and we must treat him with proper consideration. I'll tell you what, Jimmy, I'll close up my business at twelve o'clock, and give all my clerks a half-holiday. Then I'll take you and mother to Barnum's Museum, where you can see all the curiosities, and the play besides. How would you like that?"
"Ever so much, Paul," said the little boy, his eyes brightening at the prospect. "There's a giant there, isn't there? How tall is he?"
"Somewhere about eighteen feet, I believe."
"Now you are making fun, Paul."
"Well, it's either eighteen or eight, one or the other. Then there's a dwarf, two feet high, or is it inches?"
"Of course it's feet. He couldn't be so little as two inches."
"Well, Jimmy, I dare say you're right. Then it's settled that we go to the museum tomorrow. You must go with us, mother."
"Oh, yes, I will go," said Mrs. Hoffman, "and I presume I shall enjoy it nearly as much as Jimmy."
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.
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.
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.
Blinded in a crash, Cary was rejected by every socialite—except Evelina, who married him without hesitation. Three years later, he regained his sight and ended their marriage. "We’ve already lost so many years. I won’t let her waste another one on me." Evelina signed the divorce papers without a word. Everyone mocked her fall—until they discovered that the miracle doctor, jewelry mogul, stock genius, top hacker, and the President's true daughter… were all her. When Cary came crawling back, a ruthless tycoon had him kicked out. "She's my wife now. Get lost."
After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."
Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.
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."
"You never wanted me," Eva's voice trembled, but her gaze was steady as she glared at Maxmillan. "You were too blinded by your love for Sara to see the truth." Maximilian clenched his fists, his jaw tight. "You think I don't regret it? Every moment, Eva. Every moment I spent hurting you.." "Hurting me?" she cut him off, her eyes filled with anger. "You ruined me, Max. You let my sister and step mother destroy me, and when I needed you most, you turned your back on me, you made me go through hell." His chest tightened. "I was wrong. I know that now, but..." "But it's too late," she snapped. "I'm not the helpless girl you left behind. I've come back for what's mine." Max's voice softened, almost pleading. "And what if I'm part of what's yours?" Eva's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Maybe. Or maybe I'll destroy you the way you destroyed me." ******* Forced into a loveless marriage to save her family's business, Eva endures cruelty from her husband, Maximilian, who believes she manipulated his grandfather into choosing her as his bride. Blinded by his love for her sister, Sara, Maximilian made Eva go through hell. Eva endures not only Maximilian's abuse but also the hurt and betrayal from her own family. Eva is framed for a tragedy and sent to prison, she's rescued by a powerful and influencial figure who she never knew existed. Six years later, Eva returns. No longer the broken and helpless woman she once was, She is now a force to be reckoned with. She is back to seek revenge on all those who had made her life hell. Now, Maximilian regrets his mistakes and isn't ready to let her go. Eva hold a secret that will shatter Maxmillan's world. What is that secret? Will Eva choose love and forgiveness, or will revenge be the only thing that can heal her broken heart?
"GET THIS FAT, SHAPELESS COW OUT OF MY PRESENCE!" I claimed our Alpha as my mate, he insulted and rejected me in front of the whole pack, resisting the mate bond. "GET THIS FAT, SHAPELESS COW OUT OF MY PRESENCE!" He said, and even with his cruel words, my wolf whined and cried out to him. Getting sold later for a few pennies was the worst heartbreak I could ever wish for. But not until I got a second chance at love with the Howling Alphas. Being mated to 2 Alphas isn't a problem. But there are more and they're all fighting for my attention. With war looming amongst the werewolf clan and plentiful revelations from the Moon Goddess, I'm presented as the solution to the ultimate problem, but that would mean even more pain for me. Will my mates choose me over their pack and the entire werewolf clan, even though they have little or no choice in the matter? Yet, with the ongoing chaos, someone is still staking his claim on me. Who is this man?
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