Ragged Dick, or, Street Life in New York

by Horatio Alger, Jr.

  "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 ain't 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 ain't 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 seater 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 ain't 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 hain't 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."

  "Ain't 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 swi
ndled 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 DETECTlVE

  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 habease 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 sha'n'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 tas
te 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 ain't 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."