a lady used to hear my lessons. She lived in the same place with us."
"Did you like studying?"
"Ever so much. I should be happy if I could go to school again, but
Peggy says I know enough, and she needs me to earn my living."
"Do you know the name of that gentleman you pointed out to me?"
"No, I don't think I heard Peggy mention his name."
"How long has he been in the habit of coming to see you and Peggy?"
"He has only been there two or three times. Peggy didn't remember him at
first. I think they used to know each other a good while ago."
"Suppose this gentleman's story were true, and you had a grandfather at
the East who could take good care of you, would you be willing to go to
him?"
"Would he be kind to me? Do you know him?" asked the little fellow
eagerly.
"Yes, I know him, and I am sure he would be very kind to you. Would you
be willing to leave Peggy?"
"Yes," answered little Jack promptly.
"How does she treat you?"
"If I bring home a good bit of money, she pats me on the head and says I
am a good boy, but if I am not lucky she is very cross, and sometimes
she beats me."
Mark's sympathies were aroused. Jack was so small, and weak in
appearance, that it seemed to him revolting to think of his being at the
mercy of a cruel old woman. Half unconsciously his fist doubled up, his
teeth closed firmly together, and he just wished he had the merciless
Peggy in his power.
"Is Peggy temperate?" he asked.
Jack looked at him inquiringly.
"Does she drink?" Mark asked, changing the form of his question.
"She drinks beer, and sometimes whiskey," answered Jack.
"Does she get—drunk?"
"Sometimes."
"How does it affect her?"
"It makes her sleepy or cross. I always run away when she has been
drinking—when I can, but sometimes she locks the door and fastens me in.
Then, if I can, I hide under the bed."
"Poor boy! you have a hard time of it. Now, Jack, can you keep a
secret?"
Jack nodded, and his face assumed a cunning look, for the poor boy had
more than once felt obliged to practice dissimulation, in the rough
school in which he had been trained.
"Yes," he answered.
"Then I am going to tell you a secret. Your grandfather sent me out here
to find you."
"He sent you!" ejaculated Jack.
"Yes."
"But I thought he sent that gentleman—the one I pointed out to you."
"No; that gentleman, as you call him, is your mother's cousin. He is a
near relation of yours."
"But he spoke to Peggy about carrying me back to my grandfather."
"He has an object in view. He won't give you up to your grandfather
unless he gets a large sum of money. I suppose he has promised to give
Peggy some of the money."
"Yes, I heard him promise Peggy a hundred dollars."
Mark smiled.
"Then I think he is going to cheat Peggy," he said. "He wants five
thousand dollars for himself."
"Why, that is a good deal more than a hundred dollars."
"Yes, it is fifty times as much. Did Peggy seem to be satisfied with a
hundred?"
"No; she said it was very little, but he said perhaps my grandfather
would give her as much as that every year."
"It is evident he proposes to take the old woman in."
"I don't care, if he will only take me back to my grandfather. Will he
give me enough to eat?"
"My poor child, are you hungry?" asked Mark, compassionately.
"Yes; I think I am always hungry," sighed Jack. "Peggy says I eat too
much."
"You don't look much like it. Now Jack, one thing more. Would you be
willing to leave Peggy, and go to New York with me?"
"Would you take me to my grandfather?"
"Yes; that is just what I want to do."
"I am ready to go now," said Jack, putting his hand confidingly in
Mark's.
"That is well, but it will be better to wait till to-morrow. What time
do you get up in the morning?"
"About eight o'clock. It isn't any use to go out too early."
"And at what time do you come here, Jack?"
"About half-past eight or nine."
"Then I will meet you to-morrow, somewhere about that time, and I will
have tickets ready to take us to New York. We can catch the ten o'clock
train. There isn't any danger of Peggy keeping you, is there?"
"Not unless she thinks I am goin' to run away."
"She mustn't suspect that. We must be sure to keep that from her. I
suppose you have no other clothes than those you have on?"
"No, sir."
"I will hunt up a clothing-store, and get you fitted out before we
start. I shouldn't like your grandfather to see you in that ragged
suit."
Jack looked down at his jacket, frayed, tattered and greasy, and said:
"I've often wished I had nice clothes like that boy," and he pointed out
a boy of about his own age, dressed in knickerbockers.
"You shall have your wish to-morrow, Jack. Now I suppose you had better
go and buy some more matches, so that Peggy won't suspect anything."
"Yes, sir."
"You'll be sure to meet me to-morrow, Jack?"
"Yes, sir."
"And don't let Peggy suspect from your looks that anything is going on."
"Yes, sir."
"Everything looks favorable," thought Mark as he walked slowly to his
hotel. "To-morrow at this time Peggy and the worthy Lyman will be
mourning for a lost boy."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER XXXI.
JACK TALKS IN HIS SLEEP.
JACK was naturally very much excited by the new prospects that opened
out before him. He had seen little happiness in his short life. It is a
sad thing to say that he had hardly ever known what it was to eat a full
meal. Cold and pinching privation, and long, toilsome days in the
streets, had been his portion hitherto. Was it possible, he asked
himself, that all this was to be changed.
Was he to have a home like other boys, and a relation who was able to
supply him with the comforts of which he knew so little?
It seemed like a dream, and little Jack might have been tempted to
distrust the information which had been given to him. But somehow he
could not help feeling confidence in what Mark told him. He felt that
Mark would not deceive him, and the dream must come true after all.
Jack finished out the day as usual, and went home. Peggy's attention was
at once called to the new basket.
"Where did that come from?" she asked.
"My basket was stolen, and a kind gentleman gave me money to buy this."
Jack answered.
"Was the matches stole too?"
"Yes; he gave me money enough to buy as many as I lost."
"Who stole 'em? Do you know?"
"I think it was Tim Roach. He was hangin' round, at the time I lost it."
"Did he snatch it from you?"
"No; I laid it down a minute while I went into a cigar store to get a
quarter changed for a gentleman who had just bought a box of matches,
when Tim picked it up and ran away."
"I'd like to get hold of Tim!" said Peggy wrathfully. "I'd wring his
neck for him, the little wretch!"
Then a new and cunning idea came to Peggy.
"I tell you what to do, Jack," she said; "just you go out to-morrow
mornin' without any basket, and begin to cry, and tell people that
you've had your matches stolen. Then somebody'll give you money, and you
can bring it home."
"But that would be tellin' a lie, Peggy," objected Jack.
"And what if it is!" retorted Peggy. "You needn't be so dreadfully good.
It ain't a lie that'll hurt anybody, and the gentlemen that gives you
the money won't miss it."
It occurred to Jack that it would suit his plans to go out the next
morning without the basket. Considering how he had been brought up, his
conscience was unusually tender, and he would not have liked to leave
the city without returning the basket and his stock-in-trade to Peggy.
Besides, she could have him arrested for theft, if she chose. He
decided, therefore, that he would make no further objection to Peggy's
proposal.
"Just as you say, Peggy," he said, submissively.
"That's a good boy!" said Peggy, good-humoredly. "That's a pretty good
snap!" she said to herself, complacently. "I don't know why we shouldn't
foller it up. It'll be more than the profit of the matches, and Jack can
do it two or three times a day."
It did, indeed, seem a very ingenious method of raising money, and
answered the purpose of begging, without being open to the usual
objection.
[Illustration: The old woman drawing near the pallet, strove to catch
the words that fell from the boy's lips.]
Jack usually got tired with being about the streets all day, and after
he had eaten the frugal supper with which Peggy had provided him, he lay
down on a pallet provided for him in the corner of the room, and was
soon asleep. But with such a momentous secret on his mind, it will not
be a matter of surprise that Jack's thoughts, even in sleep, were
occupied with his new plan. Whenever he was restless he was apt to talk
in his sleep, and did so on the present occasion.
Peggy had not gone to bed, but sat in an old wooden rocking-chair,
smoking a pipe.
"What's the boy sayin'?" she asked herself, as Jack began to talk. "I'll
listen, and then if he's been up to any mischief, he'll out with it."
She removed the pipe, and drawing near the pallet, bent over, and strove
to catch the disconnected words that fell from the boy's lips.
"I'm goin'—to—my grandfather!" she heard Jack say, and the words
startled her.
"Who's been talkin' to him about his grandfather?" Peggy exclaimed,
startled. "I didn't know he'd heard a word about him."
"He says—he will—take me!" continued Jack, in a drowsy tone.
"He says he'll take him!" repeated Peggy, in surprise and alarm. "Who's
he, I'd like to know."
Her suspicions fell at once upon Lyman. No one, so far as she knew, had
any knowledge of Jack's relations except Lyman. Evidently Lyman had been
talking to the boy on the sly.
"The villain!" said Peggy, indignantly; "I know what he's up to. He
wants to get the boy away from me, and get all the reward himself. He's
going to leave Peggy out in the cowld, and abduct the boy on the sly.
I've found him out, the artful schamer. So he thinks he can over-rache
ould Peggy, does he? He'll find it's a cowld day when ould Peggy gets
left."
Jack began to talk again.
"He says he'll take me off in the cars," he continued. "I like to ride
in the cars. My grandfather will give me enough to eat, and I won't have
to sell matches for a livin'."
"The ongrateful young kid," commented Peggy, looking angrily at the
sleeping boy. "So he wants to lave me who've took care of him ever since
he was a babby, and he don't mind it no more'n if I was a puppy dog. _I_
that have been a mother to him!"
Peggy rocked back and forward, and actually persuaded herself that
little Jack was very ungrateful. It is curious how we misrepresent
matters from our own point of view. It was Jack who had supported Peggy,
and she was far more indebted to him than he was to her, but somehow she
could not see it. She did, however, understand fully how unpleasant it
would be to lose Jack's services, unless she could receive, as Lyman had
led her to expect, an adequate compensation from his grandfather.
Peggy deliberated as to what was best to be done. In the first place,
she wanted to find out for a certainty whether Lyman had really entered
into a conspiracy against her and meant to abduct Jack without her
knowledge or consent. It seemed on the whole, the best thing to get up
herself and follow Jack the next morning, and make sure that Lyman did
not have a secret conference with him.
When Jack was ready to start out the next morning, Peggy asked with
apparent carelessness, "Jack, dear, do you ever see the tall gentleman
that calls here sometimes?"
"Yes, Peggy; I saw him yesterday," answered Jack, readily.
"And what did he say to you?" she asked eagerly.
"He didn't speak to me at all."
"That's a lie!" Peggy said to herself. "He told the bye not to tell."
But she didn't think it best to charge Jack with it, and so through him
put Lyman on his guard.
"Remember, lad, you've got no better friend than ould Peggy. If you
should lave her, she'd die of grafe."
"Thank you, Peggy," said Jack, but he was not much impressed by this
declaration of affection from one who often beat and systematically
starved him.
Five minutes after Jack had left the house, Peggy threw on her old
cloak, and, at a safe distance, followed her youthful charge, meaning to
keep him under her eye, and watch lest he should be carried off by Lyman
Taylor. But luckily for Jack, whose meeting with Mark would otherwise
have been detected, she changed her plan, when she recognized a little
in advance Lyman himself on State Street.
"It'll be better to watch him," she decided, and gave up following Jack.
Meanwhile Jack had not been at his usual stand more than ten minutes,
when Mark came up.
"I am glad you are ahead of time, Jack," he said. "Come along with me."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER XXXII.
JACK IS PURSUED.
"ARE you goin' to take me away to-day?" asked Jack, who wished to be
assured that the dream was coming true.
"Yes, Jack, but I can't take you away as you are. I know a place near by
where you can take a good bath. I will leave you then, and go round by
myself and buy you some clothes. I can guess your size."
He led the way to a barber's shop which advertised baths, procured a
ticket, and leaving Jack with strict injunctions to wash himself
thoroughly, sallied out in search of an outfit for his young companion.
That did not take long. He returned with two good sized bundles, and
requested Jack to dress himself in them. When Jack emerged from the
bath-room he was quite transformed. He was still thin, and his features
looked pinched, but his dress was, in all respects, that of a boy
belonging to a well-to-do family.
"Now I think I must have your hair cut, and you will do."
In truth, Jack's long, elf-like locks made his face appear even thinner
than it really was.
"Don't you want to be shaved, too, young man?" asked the barber,
jocosely.
"Perhaps he wants to be shaved," said Jack, pointing to Mark, with a
smile.
Mark colored a little, realizing that he scarcely needed that operation
any more than Jack.
"Now look at yourself in the glass, Jack!" said Mark.
Jack obeyed, and looked first bewildered, then pleased. He thought at
first that he was looking at another boy.
"Is that me?" he inquired, almost incredulously.
"I think it is. Peggy wouldn't know you," answered Mark, with a smile.
"I don't want her to," answered the little boy.
Mark had forgotten one thing—a pair of shoes. As he scanned Jack
critically, he noted the omission, and said, "Jack, we must go to a shoe
store. It will never do for a young gentleman like you to wear a pair of
shoes out at the toes and sides."
"They don't look very well," said Jack, with a downward look.
"As you may be taken for my son," said Mark gravely, "I want you to look
well."
"You're only a boy!" said Jack, who was inclined to a literal
understanding of what was told him.
"You wouldn't take me for twenty-five, then, Jack?"
"No, you're not that, are you?"
"Well, not quite."
They had not far to go to a shoe store, but it took some time to get
fitted to a pair of shoes, on account of Jack's having a high instep.
This delay came near wrecking their plans. Tim Roach, who usually passed
his time in roaming about the streets, without any special occupation,
caught sight of Jack as he entered the shoe store with Mark. He let his
eye rest upon him carelessly at first, but his indifferent glance was
soon succeeded by a look of the most intense amazement.
"My eye!" he exclaimed, "if that isn't little Jack dressed out like a
prince! What's happened, I wonder, and who's that with him? I jest wish
he'd rig me out that way."
Tim did not make himself known, but peered curiously in at the door of
the store.
"I wonder whether Peggy knows about it?" he soliloquized. "I don't
believe she does. Wouldn't she open her eyes to see the kid rigged out
that way. I'd like to tell her."
Circumstances seemed to favor the gratification of this wish, for not
many rods away he caught sight of Peggy and Lyman Taylor talking
together.
"I'll go and tell her," he said.
We will precede him and relate what had taken place between the two
schemers. Peggy had started out with the confident belief that Lyman had
played her false, and meant to carry away Jack without her knowledge or
consent. It did, indeed, look as if she were correct, for it must be
remembered that she knew nothing of Mark's mission to Chicago, Lyman not
having thought it necessary to tell her. She wanted to meet Lyman and
"have it out with him," if she found any confirmation in her suspicions.
Lyman chanced to turn, and seeing Peggy with her eyes fixed on him,
retraced his steps till he reached her.
"Do you want to see me, Peggy?" he asked.
"Yes, I wanted to see you, Mr. Lyman Taylor, and ask what you mane by
tryin' to stale away the bye from me?"
Lyman stared at her in surprise.
"I don't know what you mean," he answered, with a shrug of his
shoulders. "I thought it was understood that we would restore the boy to
his grandfather if he would make it worth our while."
"And you didn't mane to take away the bye without my knowin' it?"
"Certainly not. Who told you so?"
"And you haven't told the bye about goin' back to his grandfather?"
"I haven't spoken a word to the boy on the subject."
"Then how did he know about it?"
"Does he know about it?"
Peggy then told her companion about what she had overheard Jack say in
his sleep the night before. Lyman Taylor was surprised and alarmed, and
these feelings were so evident on his face that Peggy acquitted him of
any breach of faith.
"I don't understand it," he said, meditatively. "I have never spoken a
word about the matter except in your room. Did you ask him about it?"
"I asked him when did he see you, and he said yesterday."
"He might have seen me, but I had no conversation with him."
"So he said."
"He told the truth. I don't think any harm is done, Peggy. He must have
overheard what we were talking about when we supposed him asleep."
"That's true. Maybe he did."
"That won't interfere with our plans that I can see. I have written to
my uncle and expect to hear from him in a few days. I will let you know
what he says as soon as I get the letter."
Then it was that Tim Roach came up, looking preternaturally knowing.
"How are you, Peg?" he said. "Are you walkin' wid your beau?"
"Go away wid you! You're always botherin'."
"You'd orter see what I did jest now," said Tim, wagging his head.
"What did you see, then?"
"I seed your Jack rigged out like a prince in new clothes and a new hat.
Didn't he look fine?"
"You saw Jack dressed that way?" gasped Peggy.
"Yes, I did."
"You're lyin' now."
"Wish I may die if I didn't."
"Where was he?"
"In Simpson's shoe store, pickin' out a nice new pair of shoes."
"How could the boy get all these things without money?" asked Lyman
incredulous.
"There was a big boy wid him was buyin' the things."
"A big boy!" repeated Lyman quickly; "how old was he?"
"Maybe sixteen or seventeen."
An expression, full of dismay, overspread Lyman Taylor's face.
"It is Mark Manning!" he exclaimed. "Quick, boy, tell me where he is."
"In Simpson's shoe store."
"And who is Mark Manning?" asked Peggy bewildered.
"The boy his grandfather sent out here to find him. It's he that has
been telling Jack about his grandfather. Quick, Peggy! we must go and
stop him, or he'll take Jack away and leave us out in the cold."
The ill-matched pair hurried to the place indicated by Tim.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER XXXIII.
MARK ELUDES HIS PURSUERS.
LITTLE Jack had been fitted with a pair of shoes, and Mark had settled
for them, when the little boy chancing to look towards the entrance of
the store, was almost paralyzed by the sight of Peggy and Lyman looking
in at the window. His eyes were good, and he could read on Peggy's face
a malicious exultation, which boded ill for him when he should again
find himself in her clutches.
Mark, who had not seen them, noticed the fear upon the face of his
little charge.
"What's the matter, Jack?" he asked.
"It's them!" answered Jack, hoarsely.
"Who's them?"
"Peggy—and the gentleman."
"Where are they?"
"Looking in at the winder."
Mark had his wits about him, and did not turn round. He wished Peggy and
her confederate to think themselves undiscovered, while he rapidly
considered what was best to be done.
Should he leave the store by the front door, Jack would at once be
pounced upon by Peggy, and there would be a scene.
He might eventually recover Jack, but in the meantime the boy would be
ill-treated, stripped of his good clothes, and perhaps carried out of
the city. Just as success seemed assured, he was confronted by defeat.
What was to be done?
Mark was not a boy to give in, unless compelled to do so. An idea came
to him.
"Jack," he said in a low voice, "don't look towards the window again.
Don't let them know you have seen them."
"You won't let Peggy get hold of me!" said the boy in a trembling voice.
"Not if I can help it."
Turning to the salesman who had waited upon him, Mark said:
"There are some people at the door that I want to avoid meeting. Is
there any back entrance to the store?"
"Yes," answered the clerk.
"Will you be kind enough to guide us to it?"
"Certainly."
"Don't look behind you, Jack, but come with me. Don't be alarmed!"
The salesman guided them to a door opening on a narrow street. Boxes of
goods were so piled up, that this door could not be seen from the window
into which Peggy and Lyman were looking.
"Where are they going?" Peggy asked.
"To look at some goods in the back part of the store," answered Lyman.
This reassured Peggy, who kept her position, feeling sure that Jack
could not escape her when he came out.
"I'll sell his new clothes," she thought complacently. "I'll be in luck
after all."
Once out of the store, Mark looked about him. He felt that it behooved
him to get beyond the reach of Jack's pursuers as soon as possible.
Circumstances favored him. Just at the head of the street, he saw a lady
descend from a hack.
"Hurry up, Jack," he said. "We'll get into this cab."
The driver was about to drive away, after settling with his fare, when
Mark hailed him.
"Are you unengaged?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Can you drive me at once to the Union Depot in Van Buren Street?"
"Yes, sir."
He dismounted from the box, opened the door for his next passengers, and
they got in. Then resuming his place on the box, he drove rapidly away.
It so chanced that he passed by the front of the very store from which
they had just emerged.
Little Jack stole a glance out of the window of the cab.
"There's Peg!" he said.
Following his example, Mark also caught sight of the two with their
faces glued to the window, still looking in, unconscious that their prey
had escaped them.
Mark smiled. He felt like a victor, and rather enjoyed the thought of
having outgeneraled the fox.
"I hope they'll have a good time watching for us, Jack," he said.
The little boy still felt nervous.
"Do you think they'll catch me?" he asked.
"No, Jack, I think they'll get left this time."
The cab made its way rapidly through the crowded streets, and in a very
short time drew up at the Union Depot.
Mark paid the driver, and accompanied by Jack, made his way to the
ticket office.
"How soon will there be a train East?" he asked.
"In ten minutes."
"That will suit us, Jack."
He bought tickets, and, the cars being ready, they took their seats in a
comfortable car of the Lake Shore and Michigan Railroad.
"If they should come here!" suggested Jack, nervously.
"They would have to run fast, if our train leaves on time. There is no
danger, Jack. Even if they suspect that we have left the store, they
wouldn't know where we are gone."
Still, even Mark felt relieved and reassured when the signal was given
and the long train began to steam out of the depot.
"Wouldn't you like to go back and bid Peggy good-by?" he asked,
jocosely.
"I hope I shall never see Peggy again," answered the little boy,
shuddering.
"If you ever do, there won't be any danger of her doing you any harm.
Your grandfather will take care of that."
In his hurry to leave the city, Mark had been compelled to leave his
bill at the hotel unpaid, but his valise was left behind as security. At
the first opportunity he telegraphed to the land-lord, promising to
remit the necessary money, and asking him to hold the valise till
instructed where to send it by express.
We will now go back to Peggy and Lyman, who were impatiently maintaining
their watch at the window of the shoe store.
When fifteen minutes had passed, and Jack and Mark did not appear, they
became alarmed.
"Where are they?" muttered Peggy. "It's long enough they are stayin'."
"You are right, Peggy."
Just then a policeman tapped him on the shoulder. He had been watching
them for some time and their conduct seemed to him suspicious.
"What are you doing here, my man?" he asked, suspiciously. "You had
better move on."
"We are waiting for some one to come out," answered Lyman.
"How long do you mean to wait? Is this woman with you?"
"Yes," answered Lyman, reluctantly, for he was not proud of his
companion, whose appearance was hardly calculated to do him credit.
"Shure, my little bye has been shtole," she put in, "and he's in the
store now wid the man that shtole him."
"Then you'd better go in and claim him instead of standing here and
blocking up the sidewalk."
"I think I will follow your advice," said Lyman. "Will you be kind
enough to stay here a minute, in case I need your help?"
"Very well; only be quick."
Lyman entered the store, and failing to see Jack and Mark, addressed one
of the salesmen.
"Two boys were in here a short time since," he said; "one large one and
one small one. Can you tell me where they are?"
It happened that the salesman addressed was the same one who had guided
the boys to the back entrance. At least fifteen minutes had elapsed, and
there would be no danger in telling the truth.
"They went away some time since," he answered.
"They did not go out the front door, for I've been there all the time."
"There's another door," quietly retorted the clerk.
"Where?" asked Lyman, in dismay.
"In the rear of the store."
"Sold, by thunder!" exclaimed Lyman, under his breath. "How long have
they been gone?"
"Fifteen minutes. Were they friends of yours?"
"The small boy was my son," answered Lyman, unblushingly.
"And was the woman I saw with you at the window his mother?" asked the
salesman, with a smile.
"Certainly not," answered Lyman, coloring with indignation. "The older
boy has abducted him."
"Why didn't you come in sooner, then?"
"I wish I had."
Great was Peggy's dismay when Lyman told her what he had learned. She
had fully decided to beat Jack soundly, and now she was baffled of her
revenge. The two confederates spent the rest of the day in wandering
about the streets of Chicago in search of Jack and his friend, but their
search was in vain.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER XXXIV.
MRS. MANNING'S HOUSE IS SOLD.
IT is now time to return to Pocasset and inquire how our old
acquaintances are prospering.
It was still a matter of wonder what had become of Mark. Mrs. Manning
gave no information, and no letters were received at the post-office
which would throw light on the mystery. Mark, by arrangement, directed
all his letters to Mr. Hardy, who inclosed and forwarded them to the
Pocasset office. Tom Wyman, the postmaster's son, was puzzled to account
for the letters received from New York by Mrs. Manning.
"They must be from Mark," said James Collins.
"They don't seem to be in Mark's hand-writing."
"He probably gets some one to direct them for him, so as to throw dust
in our eyes."
This was the conclusion upon which the two boys finally settled.
Another cause of wonder was the hermit's visits to the city. Since he
had heard that his grandson was living, he went up often to consult with
Mr. Hardy. Family affection in him had not died out. It had only been
dormant, and now it was thoroughly reawakened.
"I long to see my daughter's boy," he said. "It will give me something
to live for. I tremble lest the cup of happiness should be dashed from
my lips, just as my hopes are awakened."
"Don't be anxious, old friend. Your affairs are in good hands. Mark is
only a boy, but he has far more discretion and fidelity than most men.
Do you know what I have in view?"
"Well?"
"If he succeeds in this enterprise I propose, with his mother's
permission, to take him into my office, and train him up in my business.
I have hitherto employed boys simply as boys, but Mark is one whom I can
train up for a responsible position. I am getting older every year, and
when I am really old, I shall be glad to have a young man at my side
upon whom I can shift the burden of my business. Do you think his mother
would object?"
"Mrs. Manning is a sensible woman. I think she will be glad to have her
son so well provided for. If it is necessary I will myself advise her to
commit him to your charge."
At length a telegram came from Mark, and by good luck when Mr. Taylor
was in the office of his agent. It ran thus:
"JOHN HARDY, NEW YORK.
"I am on my way to New York with little Jack. Particulars when we
meet.
"MARK MANNING."
"There, old friend, what do you say to that?" asked John Hardy,
triumphantly. "Didn't I tell you the boy would succeed? Was my
confidence misplaced?"
"He had my confidence from the first," said Anthony, his face luminous
with happiness, "but I knew he had an adroit enemy in my nephew Lyman. I
didn't dare to expect that a country boy would be equal to the
emergency."
"Now, you can go home with a light heart. In a day or two, your grandson
will be with you. What are your plans respecting him? Shall you take him
to Pocasset?"
"I don't think I can do better. He will need a woman's care, and I know
of no one who will prove kinder than Mrs. Manning."
"She has this in her favor at any rate. She has brought up her own boy
well. But will the house be large or comfortable enough?"
"I am not very particular for myself. You will judge that when you
remember the cabin in the woods, where I spent several years. The house
is small, however, but there is another vacant, much larger and
handsomer, which I can buy or rent, already furnished. The owner and
occupant died recently, and his heirs, living in a distant state, want
to sell it. It has a handsome lawn and a garden attached. It stands near
the house of Mr. Collins."
"Well, you are able to gratify your own taste in the matter. I will send
Mark down as soon as he arrives."
When Anthony reached home, he found Mrs. Manning anxious and perturbed.
The cause will require some explanation.
The small cottage in which Mark and his mother lived did not belong to
them. They rented it from Deacon Brooks, an old farmer living just out
of the village, at five-dollars monthly rental. For a special reason
Squire Collins desired to possess it. He owned the lot adjoining, and it
occurred to him that the two combined would make a desirable property.
The house, which was a cottage, could be raised one story, and made much
more commodious. In that case, it would easily command more than twice
the rent. The foreman of the shoe-shop stood prepared to rent it of him,
as soon as the alteration was made.
He therefore approached Deacon Brooks, with a proposition to purchase
it.
"I don't know," said the deacon. "I never thought of sellin', but I
can't say I'm opposed to it. I'm getting good rent from the widder
Manning."
"There's no knowing, deacon, how long she'll be able to pay her rent,"
said the squire, nodding with a meaning look.
"Sho! you don't say! She ain't lost any money, has she?"
"She had none to lose. Her boy Mark has about supported her with his
small earnings in the shop. But he isn't employed there any longer."
"I heard something of that. Did you discharge him?"
"Yes; he got too uppish—wasn't willing to obey orders. I was sorry to
discharge him on his mother's account, but it was his own fault."
"Seems to me I haven't seen him round the village lately?"
"No; he has gone to the city on some wild-goose expedition. My boy James
thinks he is blacking boots or selling papers. As to that I can't say,
but it isn't likely he is able to help his mother much."
"I hear Mrs. Manning has a boarder?"
"Yes; it's the old hermit that lived in the woods. I believe he has a
small pension from some relations, but it doesn't amount to much.
Probably he doesn't pay more than two or three dollars a week board.
That won't go far, eh, deacon?"
"You're right there, squire. It costs a sight to live. How much do you
think my grocery bill came to last month?"
"I don't know," answered the squire, with a curious smile. The deacon
had the reputation of being very close-fisted, and it was rather amusing
to hear him speak of the cost of living.
"Fifteen dollars and sixty-seven cents," said the deacon, with the air
of one who hardly expected to be believed.
"I believe you have six in family," said Squire Collins, with a smile.
"Yes, six, including the hired man."
"I pity your family," thought the squire, who, at all events, kept a
liberal table.
"Yes, it costs a great deal to live," he added, "and, of course, the
Widow Manning, though her family is small, can't live on nothing. When
she finds she can't pay all her bills, she will probably begin by being
remiss in her rent."
"That's so, squire! She's allus paid so far right up to the handle,
though."
"When she had Mark's help; but as I told you he is not now in a
condition to help his mother. Well, what do you say? Shall I have the
house?"
Then commenced the bargaining. Both parties were sharp, but at length a
conclusion was reached. Squire Collins agreed to pay eight hundred and
fifty dollars for the cottage, five hundred to remain on bond and
mortgage, at six per cent. In a day or two the necessary papers were
made out, and then Squire Collins took a walk over to the cottage, to
inform Mrs. Manning that the house had passed into his possession, and
it would be necessary for her to find another home.
It might have been supposed he would feel some compunction, but he did
not have much feeling or sympathy for the widow. The ill-feeling between
Mark and his son had its effect upon him also.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER XXXV.
NOTICE TO QUIT.
THERE are some men who enjoy the prospect of dealing a blow, and
watching the effect—men whose best feelings have been deadened, and who
have lost all sympathy for those less fortunate than themselves. That
Squire Collins was a man of this kind will not seem strange to those who
have followed the course of this story. He set out for Mrs. Manning's
cottage with a comfortable complacency, though he knew that the
communication he had to make would bring her great trouble and sorrow.
Quite unconscious of the impending blow, Mrs. Manning was sitting at the
front window engaged in sewing, while her thoughts were with her absent
boy, whom she seemed to miss more and more as his absence lengthened.
Casually looking up from her work, she saw with considerable surprise
the dignified figure of Squire Collins turning in at her gate.
"What can bring the squire here," she thought. She was not in the habit
of receiving or expecting calls from her aristocratic townsman, and
concluded that he must have some special object in calling.
Perhaps he had come to offer to take Mark back into the shop. If so, it
might be the best thing for her son. She knew very little of old
Anthony's circumstances, and she did not anticipate any permanent
position for Mark from that quarter.
"Good morning, Squire Collins," she said, politely.
"Good morning, Mrs. Manning," he responded, somewhat stiffly.
"Won't you come in?"
"Thank you; I will step in for a few minutes, I have a little business
to speak of."
"It must be that he means to take Mark back into the shop," thought the
widow, cheerfully.
She led the way into the plain sitting-room, and invited the village
magnate to take a seat.
"Ahem! your son Mark is away?" remarked the squire, inquiringly. This
confirmed Mrs. Manning in her conjecture as to the squire's errand.
"Yes," she answered; "but I think he will be at home before long. I miss
him a great deal."
"I suppose he can't make a living in New York," thought the squire.
Rather fortunately he didn't inquire where Mark was, since this would
have embarrassed Mrs. Manning, who knew that it was a secret not to be
mentioned, and yet would have been reluctant to offend the squire by
withholding the information.
"Probably he will be as well off at home," said the squire. "I don't
believe much in boys leaving home on wild-goose expeditions. They think
it perfectly easy to earn a living elsewhere, but they are pretty apt to
reap only disappointment."
"I dare say you are right, squire," said Mrs. Manning, leading up to the
subject of a return to the shop; "but there didn't seem to be anything
for Mark to do at home."
Squire Collins understood her object, but had no intention of offering
employment to Mark. He looked at the widow with a peculiar smile, and
enjoyed the disappointment which his next words were calculated to
bring.
"I dare say Mark can hire out to some good farmer," he replied,
indifferently. "Farming is a good healthy business."
Mrs. Manning sighed, for she rightly interpreted that no place in the
shop was to be offered to Mark.
"Ahem!" said the squire, changing the subject; "you have a boarder, I
understand?"
"Yes; Mr. Taylor makes his home with us."
"A sensible move on his part. It was a strange thing to live in the
woods by himself so many years. I hope he will be able to pay his
board."
"He pays regularly every week," answered the widow.
"I presume he's quite poor?"
"Mark thinks he has considerable money, but I have no means of judging,
except that he pays his bills promptly."
Squire Collins shrugged his shoulders.
"Mark is an inexperienced boy," he said. "The truth is, as I understand,
old Anthony receives a small pension from some relatives in New York. It
can't be much, but I hope, for your sake, that he has enough to pay his
board."
Mrs. Manning began to wonder whether this was what Squire Collins came
to talk about. She was soon more fully informed.
"How long have you lived in this cottage, Mrs. Manning?" asked the
squire.
"Ten years, sir."
"You hire of Deacon Brooks?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ahem! I came here this morning to acquaint you with the fact that I
have just bought the property."
"Has Deacon Brooks sold to you?" asked the widow, in surprise.
"Yes; the papers have passed, and the transfer has been made. I am now
the legal owner."
"I shall be glad to keep the house, Squire Collins, if you have no other
views," said Mrs. Manning. "I have been paying five dollars a month
rent, and if that is satisfactory——"
"The fact is, Mrs. Manning," interrupted the squire, "I _have_ other
views. I intend to raise the house a story, and have promised to rent
it, when completed, to my foreman, Mr. Lake, who contemplates marriage.
He is boarding at present, as you know."
Mrs. Manning was very much disturbed. It is no light thing to be forced
to leave a house which has been one's home for a period of ten years,
especially in a country town where surplus houses are generally scarce
and hard to find.
"I don't know where I can go," said the widow, anxiously.
"No doubt you'll find some place," said the squire, carelessly.
"How soon do you want me to vacate the house, Squire Collins?" asked
Mrs. Manning, anxiously.
"At the end of the month."
"But that is only a week from to-day."
"Quite true."
"That is a very short time."
"It ought to be time enough, Mrs. Manning," said the squire, stiffly.
"I would be willing to pay a little higher rent if you would allow me to
remain, Squire Collins."
"Quite out of the question, Mrs. Manning. Indeed, I will say that I
think you already pay all you can afford to. I doubt whether you will be
able—with Mark out of employment—to keep up your present rent. As I
understand, about all your income comes from a boarder, whose means must
be extremely limited, and who, in all probability, will end his days in
the alms-house."
"I don't know of any other house in the village."
"Well, you can think it over; of course that is your own affair, not
mine."
"If Mark were only at home," said the perplexed woman; "I would know
better what to do."
"You had better send for him then. Good morning."
Squire Collins rose and left the presence of the widow whom he had made
thoroughly anxious and unhappy.
In the course of the afternoon old Anthony came home. He was looking
unusually jubilant and happy, in direct contrast with the widow's
anxious face.
"Mrs. Manning," he said, "I bring you good news."
"I am glad of it, sir, for I have only bad news."
"And what is your bad news?"
"I must leave this house."
"How is that?" asked the hermit, looking surprised.
"Because it has been sold. Squire Collins has bought it, and says that
he is intending to enlarge it, and then let it to Mr. Lake, his
foreman."
"And that is all your bad news?"
"Yes, sir; but I consider it bad enough. I don't know where I can go."
"I will let you have my cabin in the woods rent free," said the hermit,
with a smile.
"I don't know but I shall have to go there," said the widow, sighing.
"You don't ask me what my good news is," said Anthony.
"I would like to hear it, sir."
"By day after to-morrow Mark will be home."
Mrs. Manning's face did brighten up at this intelligence.
"This is really good news," she said gladly. "Mark will advise me what
to do."
"Mark will not come alone. Do you think, Mrs. Manning, you can
accommodate another boarder?"
"Who is it, sir?"
"A little boy. I don't care to keep it secret. It is my grandson."
"Your grandson?"
"Yes; I sent Mark out West to find him. He has succeeded in his mission,
and the two are now on the way home."
"I shall be glad to take him, sir, if I have anywhere to receive him.
Squire Collins's visit has rather upset me, and I don't know what to do,
or where to turn."
"If your only trouble is about a house, I will undertake to find one for
you. Don't borrow any trouble on that score."
"But I don't know of any house that will come within my means."
"I am afraid, Mrs. Manning, that you haven't confidence in me. I tell
you again, not to borrow any trouble. I may as well tell you that this
house will not be large enough for your increased family, and that I
intended to propose to you to take another."
The widow's anxiety was somewhat relieved. Still she could not help
wondering what house old Anthony would succeed in finding. There was one
comfort. In two days Mark would be at home, and would be able to help
him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE HERMIT SECURES A HOUSE.
A SHORT distance from the house occupied by Squire Collins was one which
had been for six months vacant. It had been erected as a summer
residence by a New York gentleman, and occupied by him for several
seasons. It was the finest house in the village, and it seemed a pity it
should remain untenanted.
Mr. Beech, the builder, now spent his summers at various
watering-places, and had apparently tired of Pocasset. It was understood
that the house was left in the hands of Mr. Thompson, who was authorized
to let it to a responsible tenant.
Old Anthony the next morning made it in his way to call at the office of
Mr. Thompson. The latter received him with his usual courtesy.
"I hear that you are boarding with Mrs. Manning, Mr. Taylor," he said.
"Yes."
"I think you must find it much more agreeable than your life in the
woods."
"I do; I am getting over my misanthropy, and am taking more cheerful
views of life."
"That is good. My son Frank is an intimate friend of Mark, and thinks a
great deal of him and his mother."
"So do I," responded the hermit. "Mark is a straightforward boy, and
will succeed life."
"I hope so. I wish I had anything for him to do—Frank would be glad.
Perhaps in time I may find him a place."
"I think I shall be able to provide employment for Mark myself," said
the hermit, quietly.
Mr. Thompson regarded him with surprise. Like the rest of the villagers,
he had been in the habit of regarding old Anthony as a man of limited
means.
"By-the-way, Mr. Thompson, I called this morning on a little matter of
business," continued the hermit. "I believe you have the rental of the
Beach house."
"Yes," answered Mr. Thompson, somewhat surprised.
"I am acquainted with a family who are on the lookout for a house in
Groveton. This, I think, would suit them, if the rent is not too high."
"It is, you know, a fine house. Would your friends like to have it
furnished?"
"I think so."
"In that case, the rent will be four hundred dollars a year, or a
hundred dollars a quarter. In the city, or at Long Branch, as you
probably are aware, four times as much would be required."
"I think that will be satisfactory. Can immediate possession be given?"
"Yes; I will at once set the cleaners to work, and have it got ready by
the end of the week. One question I am obliged to ask. Is the party for
whom you are acting, responsible, in a pecuniary way?"
"The first quarter's rent will be paid in advance."
"Pretty satisfactory. May I ask the name of the tenant?"
"There are reasons for keeping it secret for a few days."
"Oh, well, that is not material."
Old Anthony never said a word about what he had done, for, as my readers
will conjecture, he meant to have Mark and his mother occupy the house.
It did, however, get noised about, that Mr. Beach's house was taken.
Squire Collins among others, was curious to ascertain something about
the new tenants, and made a call on Mr. Thompson, with the special
object of finding out.
"I am no wiser than you, Squire Collins," said Mr. Thompson. "Of course
we shall all know in a few days."
"By whom was the matter negotiated?"
"There again I am bound to secrecy, but all will be known."
"Of course the party must have ample means, and I look forward to having
a pleasant neighbor—there are very few in the village with whom we can
associate, on an equality, and so any good family is an acquisition."
"You are more fastidious than I, Squire Collins," said Mr. Thompson
smiling. "I don't value men according to the size of their
pocket-books."
"You must admit, however, that refinement and wealth are likely to go
together. You are not too democratic for that?"
"I am not sure. I have known many rich people who were very far from
being refined. By-the-way, I hear that you have bought the house
occupied by Mrs. Manning."
"Yes."
"Shall you allow her to remain there?"
"No; I mean to enlarge it, and let my foreman occupy it."
"That will be a disappointment to Mrs. Manning."
"Oh, I suppose so," said the squire, carelessly; "but that is her
lookout, not mine."
"I really don't know of any house in the village she can obtain."
Squire Collins shrugged his shoulders.
"I really haven't troubled my mind about the matter," he said.
"If I had time, I don't know but I would build them a small cottage on
the vacant lot I have on Glen Street."
"Take my advice, and don't; the widow is in very precarious
circumstances. Her son, Mark, is out of employment."
"Can't you find him something to do, in your shop?"
"I could, but do not feel disposed to. He is a very independent boy, and
more than once, he treated my son, James, in a disrespectful way. No; he
must shift for himself some other way."
"Of the two boys, I certainly very much prefer Mark," thought Mr.
Thompson; but politeness prevented his saying so.
Squire Collins soon took his leave, having failed to acquire the
information he sought.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER XXXVII.
CONCLUSION.
MEANWHILE, Mrs. Manning could not help feeling anxious, about her
prospects of a house.
"Have you heard of any house, Mr. Taylor?" she asked.
The hermit smiled.
"Don't be troubled, Mrs. Manning," he said; "when you leave this house
you will find another one to move into."
Mrs. Manning was silenced, but still disquieted. She was even tempted to
wonder whether old Anthony was really quite right in his mind. But there
was nothing to be done. She could only wait, patiently.
The next day Mark arrived with little Jack. He was looking unusually
well, his journey having given him a healthy color, and added to his
flesh. Jack was still thin and pale, but was beginning to look better
than when under Peggy's care.
[Illustration: The hermit was much moved, as he took the boy in his arms
and kissed him.]
The hermit was much moved, as he took the boy in his arms and kissed
him.
"I can see my daughter's looks in you, Jack," he said. "I fear your life
has been a sad one, poor child. It shall be my task to repay you for the
hardships you have had to meet in your short life."
Little Jack seemed to take instinctively to the rough-looking but,
kind-hearted old man. The poor match boy seemed to have drifted into a
haven of rest.
"Shall I ever have to go back to Peggy?" he asked.
"Never, my child. This good lady," indicating Mrs. Manning, "will supply
the place of your own mother."
"I will sell matches for you, if you want me to, grandfather. I didn't
like working for Peggy, but I will work for you."
"My dear Jack, instead of working you must go to school, and learn all
you can. When you are grown up, it will be time for you to work."
It soon became noised about that the little boy, who was seen about the
village with Mark, was the hermit's grandson. But the grandson of old
Anthony was not considered a very important person, and only excited
passing interest.
Mark was let into the secret of the new home to which Mr. Taylor
proposed to move, and he was naturally pleased to think that his
mother's condition was to be so much improved.
Nothing had leaked out in the village, however, about the contemplated
removal.
The week was nearly ended when Mark happened to meet James Collins in
the street. James had been informed by his father that Mrs. Manning had
received notice to leave the cottage, and it gratified his dislike of
Mark. What puzzled him was, Mark's apparent indifference and evident
good spirits.
"Perhaps he thinks my father will relent, and let him stay, but he'll
find himself mistaken as I shall let him know when I get a chance."
The chance came that very day.
"Hallo!" said James, as Mark was about to pass him.
"Hallo!" responded Mark smiling.
"I hear you've got to move."
"So I hear."
"It's high time you were finding a new house."
"I think so myself, but that's my mother's business."
"You needn't think my father will let you stay where you are."
"Don't you think he would let us stay a month longer?"
"No, I don't."
"He wouldn't put us out in the street, would he?"
"Look here, Mark Manning, I see what you are at. You want to impose on
my father's good nature. I shall warn him of your plan."
"Just as you please, James."
The result was that Squire Collins, sharing to some extent his son's
apprehensions, made a call that same evening at the cottage. All the
family were at home.
After the usual greetings were over, the squire said:
"I suppose, Mrs. Manning, you will be ready to move on Saturday?"
"Suppose my mother can't get a house," suggested Mark.
"She _must_ find a house," said the squire, severely. "She has had time
enough to find one. You mustn't blame me if I say that move you must on
Saturday."
"You need have no anxiety, Squire Collins," said Mrs. Manning, with
dignity. "I intend to move on that day."
"And where, may I ask?" inquired the squire, with curiosity.
"We move into the Beach house," answered Mark, his eyes fixed with
smiling interest on the village magnate.
"What!" exclaimed the squire in amazement and incredulity. "Do you mean
the house near mine?"
"Yes."
"You must be crazy," he gasped. "That is a very elegant house, and the
rent is high."
"I think we can pay it."
"And your furniture is unfit for so handsome a residence, even if there
were enough of it."
"We hire the house with its present furniture," said Mark complacently.
"I don't understand it at all!" exclaimed the perplexed squire. "How can
you, being almost a beggar, dream of living there?"
"I think, Squire Collins," said old Anthony, quietly, "that you are
somewhat in error as to my young friend Mark's circumstances."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that he has a very good property for a boy of his age."
Mark was as much amazed as the squire at this statement. The latter said
with a sneer:
"And where is this famous property?"
"I will inform you with pleasure. There are a thousand dollars to his
credit in a savings' bank in New York, and he holds a mortgage of four
thousand dollars on your manufactory."
Even Mark thought Anthony was out of his mind.
"Why," stammered the squire, "I negotiated that mortgage through Mr.
Hardy, of New York."
"Exactly! The money he advanced he held in trust for Mark."
"I can't believe this!" exclaimed the squire in mortification and
bewilderment.
"Is this really true, Mr. Taylor?" asked Mark.
"Yes. Let me inform you, Squire Collins, that though I have lived as a
hermit, I am really a moderately rich man, and some time since
transferred without his knowledge five thousand dollars to Mark here,
who, as you see, is really chief owner of the shop from which you
discharged him."
"I didn't dream of this!" ejaculated the squire.
"I presume not," said the hermit dryly.
"If Mark chooses to come back into the shop, I will raise his wages."
"My friend Hardy intends to offer Mark a position in his office in the
city, which I think will suit him better. It only remains to say that
this cottage will be vacated on Saturday."
"I don't want to inconvenience Mrs. Manning," said the squire, filled
with respect by the unexpected prosperity of those whom he had come to
bully. "Stay another week if you wish."
"We don't wish, thank you," said Mark.
It was a wonderful story that Squire Collins had to tell at home, and
the deep chagrin of James can be imagined. But he was worldly wise, and
he soon decided to court the boy he had hitherto despised. What annoyed
him most was the thought Mark held a mortgage on his father's shop, and
was to live in a house handsomer than his own.
----------
Five years have elapsed since the incidents recorded above. Mark fills a
responsible position in the office of Mr. Hardy, with a handsome salary.
Little Jack is now a rosy, healthy child of thirteen, and those who
remembered him as a match boy would not know him now. His grandfather's
happiness is bound up in his little grandson, but he is still very much
attached to Mark, and he has made a new will, in which he divides his
fortune equally between these two.
Lyman Taylor is again within the walls of a penitentiary, having forged
a check upon a well-known merchant of Chicago; and old Peggy, taking
Jack's place, is to be seen any day on Clark or State streets, with a
basket of matches, which she makes an excuse for appealing to the
charity of passers by. Her face is growing redder and redder, as her
potations increase, and she will probably end her career in a hospital
or alms-house.
James Collins is now a clerk in Newport, on a small salary, with which
he is very much discontented, and from time to time asks a loan of his
old schoolfellow, Mark, to whom he is now compelled to look up. He has
developed extravagant tastes, and is always in debt. I greatly fear that
neither his habits nor his fortunes will improve as he grows older. For
our hero, Mark, and those who belong to him, we may anticipate brighter
days and greater prosperity, as a fitting recompense of industry and
good habits.
THE END.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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=Tom Temple's Career.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated,
price $1.00.
Tom Temple is a bright, self-reliant lad. He leaves Plympton village to
seek work in New York, whence he undertakes an important mission to
California. Some of his adventures in the far west are so startling that
the reader will scarcely close the book until the last page shall have
been reached. The tale is written in Mr. Alger's most fascinating style.
=Frank Fowler, the Cash Boy.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth,
illustrated, price $1.00.
Frank Fowler, a poor boy, bravely determines to make a living for
himself and his foster-sister Grace. Going to New York he obtains a
situation as a cash boy in a dry goods store. He renders a service to a
wealthy old gentleman who takes a fancy to the lad, and thereafter helps
the lad to gain success and fortune.
=Tom Thatcher's Fortune.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth,
illustrated, price $1.00.
Tom Thatcher is a brave, ambitious, unselfish boy. He supports his
mother and sister on meagre wages earned as a shoe-pegger in John
Simpson's factory. Tom is discharged from the factory and starts
overland for California. He meets with many adventures. The story is
told in a way which has made Mr. Alger's name a household word in so
many homes.
=The Train Boy.= By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price
$1.00.
Paul Palmer was a wide-awake boy of sixteen who supported his mother and
sister by selling books and papers on the Chicago and Milwaukee
Railroad. He detects a young man in the act of picking the pocket of a
young lady. In a railway accident many passengers are killed, but Paul
is fortunate enough to assist a Chicago merchant, who out of gratitude
takes him into his employ. Paul succeeds with tact and judgment and is
well started on the road to business prominence.
=Mark Mason's Victory.= The Trials and Triumphs of a Telegraph Boy. By
HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Mark Mason, the telegraph boy, was a sturdy, honest lad, who pluckily
won his way to success by his honest manly efforts under many
difficulties. This story will please the very large class of boys who
regard Mr. Alger as a favorite author.
=A Debt of Honor.= The Story of Gerald Lane's Success in the Far West.
By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
The story of Gerald Lane and the account of the many trials and
disappointments which he passed through before he attained success, will
interest all boys who have read the previous stories of this delightful
author.
=Ben Bruce.= Scenes in the Life of a Bowery Newsboy. By HORATIO ALGER,
JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Ben Bruce was a brave, manly, generous boy. The story of his efforts,
and many seeming failures and disappointments, and his final success,
are most interesting to all readers. The tale is written in Mr. Alger's
most fascinating style.
=The Castaways=; or, On the Florida Reefs. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth,
illustrated, price $1.00.
This tale smacks of the salt sea. From the moment that the Sea Queen
leaves lower New York bay till the breeze leaves her becalmed off the
coast of Florida, one can almost hear the whistle of the wind through
her rigging, the creak of her straining cordage as she heels to the
leeward. The adventures of Ben Clark, the hero of the story and Jake the
cook, cannot fail to charm the reader. As a writer for young people Mr.
Otis is a prime favorite.
=Wrecked on Spider Island=; or, How Ned Rogers Found the Treasure. By
JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Ned Rogers, a "down-east" plucky lad ships as cabin boy to earn a
livelihood. Ned is marooned on Spider Island, and while there discovers
a wreck submerged in the sand, and finds a considerable amount of
treasure. The capture of the treasure and the incidents of the voyage
serve to make as entertaining a story of sea-life as the most captious
boy could desire.
=The Search for the Silver City=: A Tale of Adventure in Yucatan. By
JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Two lads, Teddy Wright and Neal Emery, embark on the steam yacht Day
Dream for a cruise to the tropics. The yacht is destroyed by fire, and
then the boat is cast upon the coast of Yucatan. They hear of the
wonderful Sliver City, of the Chan Santa Cruz Indians, and with the help
of a faithful Indian ally carry off a number of the golden images from
the temples. Pursued with relentless vigor at last their escape is
effected in an astonishing manner. The story is so full of exciting
incidents that the reader is quite carried away with the novelty and
realism of the narrative.
=A Runaway Brig=; or, An Accidental Cruise. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth,
illustrated, price $1.00.
This is a sea tale, and the reader can look out upon the wide shimmering
sea as it flashes back the sunlight, and imagine himself afloat with
Harry Vandyne, Walter Morse, Jim Libby and that old shell-back, Bob
Brace, on the brig Bonita. The boys discover a mysterious document which
enables them to find a buried treasure. They are stranded on an island
and at last are rescued with the treasure. The boys are sure to be
fascinated with this entertaining story.
=The Treasure Finders=: A Boy's Adventures in Nicaragua. By JAMES OTIS.
12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Roy and Dean Coloney, with their guide Tongla, leave their father's
indigo plantation to visit the wonderful ruins of an ancient city. The
boys eagerly explore the temples of an extinct race and discover three
golden images cunningly hidden away. They escape with the greatest
difficulty. Eventually they reach safety with their golden prizes. We
doubt if there ever was written a more entertaining story than "The
Treasure Finders."
=Jack, the Hunchback.= A Story of the Coast of Maine. By JAMES OTIS.
Price $1.00.
This is the story of a little hunchback who lived on Cape Elisabeth, on
the coast of Maine. His trials and successes are most interesting. From
first to last nothing stays the interest of the narrative. It bears us
along as on a stream whose current varies in direction, but never loses
its force.
=With Washington at Monmouth=: A Story of Three Philadelphia Boys. By
JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price
$1.50.
Three Philadelphia lads assist the American spies and make regular and
frequent visits to Valley Forge in the Winter while the British occupied
the city. The story abounds with pictures of Colonial life skillfully
drawn, and the glimpses of Washington's soldiers which are given shown
that the work has not been hastily done, or without considerable study.
The story is wholesome and patriotic in tone, as are all of Mr. Otis'
works.
=With Lafayette at Yorktown=: A Story of How Two Boys Joined the
Continental Army. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges,
illustrated, price $1.50.
Two lads from Portmouth, N. H. attempt to enlist in the Colonial Army,
and are given employment as spies. There is no lack of exciting
incidents which the youthful reader craves, but it is healthful
excitement brimming with facts which every boy should be familiar with,
and while the reader is following the adventures of Ben Jaffrays and Ned
Allen he is acquiring a fund of historical lore which will remain in his
memory long after that which he has memorized from text books has been
forgotten.
=At the Siege of Havana.= Being the Experiences of Three Boys Serving
under Israel Putnam in 1762. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth,
olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50.
"At the Siege of Havana" deals with that portion of the island's history
when the English king captured the capital, thanks to the assistance
given by the troops from New England, led in part by Col. Israel Putnam.
The principal characters are Darius Lunt, the lad who, represented as
telling the story, and his comrades, Robert Clement and Nicholas Vallet.
Colonel Putnam also figures to considerable extent, necessarily, in the
tale, and the whole forms one of the most readable stories founded on
historical facts.
=The Defense of Fort Henry.= A Story of Wheeling Creek in 1777. By JAMES
OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50.
Nowhere in the history of our country can be found more heroic or
thrilling incidents than in the story of those brave men and women who
founded the settlement of Wheeling in the Colony of Virginia. The
recital of what Elisabeth Zane did is in itself as heroic a story as can
be imagined. The wondrous bravery displayed by Major McCulloch and his
gallant comrades, the sufferings of the colonists and their sacrifice of
blood and life, stir the blood of old as well as young readers.
=The Capture of the Laughing Mary.= A Story of Three New York Boys in
1776. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, price $1.50.
"During the British occupancy of New York, at the outbreak of the
Revolution, a Yankee lad hears of the plot to take General Washington's
person, and calls in two companions to assist the patriot cause. They do
some astonishing things, and, incidentally, lay the way for an American
navy later, by the exploit which gives its name to the work. Mr. Otis'
books are too well-known to require any particular commendation to the
young."—Evening Post.
=With Warren at Bunker Hill.= A Story of the Siege of Boston. By JAMES
OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50.
"This is a tale of the siege of Boston, which opens on the day after the
doings at Lexington and Concord, with a description of home life in
Boston, introduces the reader to the British camp at Charlestown, shows
Gen. Warren at home, describes what a boy thought of the battle of
Bunker Hill and closes with the raising of the siege. The three heroes,
George Wentworth, Ben Scarlett and an old ropemaker, incur the enmity of
a young Tory, who causes them many adventures the boys will like to
read."—Detroit Free Press.
=With the Swamp Fox.= The Story of General Marion's Spies. By JAMES
OTIS. 12mo, cloth, Illustrated, price $1.00.
This story deals with General Francis Marion's heroic struggle in the
Carolinas. General Marlon's arrival to take command of these brave men
and rough riders is pictured as a boy might have seen it, and although
the story is devoted to what the lads did, the Swamp Fox is ever present
in the mind of the reader.
=On the Kentucky Frontier.= A Story of the Fighting Pioneers of the
West. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.
In the history of our country there is no more thrilling story than that
of the work done on the Mississippi river by a handful of frontiers-men.
Mr. Otis takes the reader on that famous expedition from the arrival of
Major Clarke's force at Corn Island, until Kaskaskia was captured. He
relates that part of Simon Kenton's life history which is not usually
touched upon either by the historian or the story teller. This is one of
the most entertaining books for young people which has been published.
=Sarah Dillard's Ride.= A Story of South Carolina in 1780. By JAMES
OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
"This book deals with the Carolinas in 1780, giving a wealth of detail
of the Mountain Men who struggled so valiantly against the king's
troops. Major Ferguson is the prominent British officer of the story,
which is told as though coming from a youth who experienced these
adventures. In this way the famous ride of Sarah Dillard is brought out
as an incident of the plot."—Boston Journal.
=A Tory Plot.= A Story of the Attempt to Kill General Washington. By
JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
"'A Tory Plot' is the story of two lads who overhear something of the
plot originated during the Revolution by Gov. Tryon to capture or murder
Washington. They communicate their knowledge to Gen. Putnam and are
commissioned by him to play the role of detectives in the matter. They
do so, and meet with many adventures and hair-breadth escapes. The boys
are, of course, mythical, but they serve to enable the author to put
into very attractive shape much valuable knowledge concerning one phase
of the Revolution."—Pittsburgh Times.
=A Traitor's Escape.= A Story of the Attempt to Seize Benedict Arnold.
By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
"This is a tale with stirring scenes depicted in each chapter, bringing
clearly before the mind the glorious deeds of the early settlers In this
country. In an historical work dealing with this country's past, no plot
can hold the attention closer than this one, which describes the attempt
and partial success of Benedict Arnold's escape to New York, where he
remained as the guest of Sir Henry Clinton. All those who actually
figured In the arrest of the traitor, as well as Gen. Washington, are
included as characters."—Albany Union.
=A Cruise with Paul Jones.= A Story of Naval Warfare in 1776. By JAMES
OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
"This story takes up that portion of Paul Jones' adventurous life when
he was hovering off the British coast, watching for an opportunity to
strike the enemy a blow. It deals more particularly with his descent
upon Whitehaven, the seizure of Lady Selkirk's plate, and the famous
battle with the Drake. The boy who figures in the tale is one who was
taken from a derelict by Paul Jones shortly after this particular cruise
was begun."—Chicago Inter-Ocean.
=Corporal Lige's Recruit.= A Story of Crown Point and Ticonderoga. By
JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
"In 'Corporal Lige's Recruit,' Mr. Otis tells the amusing story of an
old soldier, proud of his record, who had served the king in '58, and
who takes the lad, Isaac Rice, as his 'personal recruit.' The lad
acquits himself superbly. Col. Ethan Allen 'in the name of God and the
continental congress,' infuses much martial spirit into the narrative,
which will arouse the keenest interest as it proceeds. Crown Point,
Ticonderoga, Benedict Arnold and numerous other famous historical names
appear in this dramatic tale."—Boston Globe.
=Morgan, the Jersey Spy.= A Story of the Siege of Yorktown in 1781. By
JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
"The two lads who are utilised by the author to emphasise the details of
the work done during that memorable time were real boys who lived on the
banks of the York river, and who aided the Jersey spy in his dangerous
occupation. In the guise of fishermen the lads visit Yorktown, are
suspected of being spies, and put under arrest. Morgan risks his life to
save them. The final escape, the thrilling encounter with a squad of red
coats, when they are exposed equally to the bullets of friends and foes,
told in a masterly fashion, makes of this volume one of the most
entertaining books of the year."—Inter-Ocean.
=The Young Scout=: The Story of a West Point Lieutenant. By EDWARD S.
ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
The crafty Apache chief Geronimo but a few years ago was the most
terrible scourge of the southwest border. The author has woven, in a
tale of thrilling interest, all the incidents of Geronimo's last raid.
The hero is Lieutenant James Decker, a recent graduate of West Point.
Ambitious to distinguish himself the young man takes many a desperate
chance against the enemy and on more than one occasion narrowly escapes
with his life. In our opinion Mr. Ellis is the best writer of Indian
stories now before the public.
=Adrift in the Wilds=: The Adventures of Two Ship-wrecked Boys. By
EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Elwood Brandon and Howard Lawrence are en route for San Francisco. Off
the coast of California the steamer takes fire. The two boys reach the
shore with several of the passengers. Young Brandon becomes separated
from his party and is captured by hostile Indians, but is afterwards
rescued. This is a very entertaining narrative of Southern California.
=A Young Hero=; or, Fighting to Win. By EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth,
illustrated, price $1.00.
This story tells how a valuable solid silver service was stolen from the
Misses Perkinpine, two very old and simple-minded ladies. Fred Sheldon,
the hero of this story, undertakes to discover the thieves and have them
arrested. After much time spent in detective work, he succeeds in
discovering the silver plate and winning the reward. The story is told
in Mr. Ellis' most fascinating style. Every boy will be glad to read
this delightful book.
=Lost in the Rockies.= A Story of Adventure in the Rocky Mountains. By
EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.
Incident succeeds incident, and adventure is plied upon adventure, and
at the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced
breathless enjoyment in this romantic story describing many adventures
in the Rockies and among the Indians.
=A Jaunt Through Java=: The Story of a Journey to the Sacred Mountain.
By EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
The interest of this story is found in the thrilling adventures of two
cousins, Hermon and Eustace Hadley, on their trip across the island of
Java, from Samarang to the Sacred Mountain. In a land where the Royal
Bengal tiger, the rhinoceros, and other fierce beasts are to be met
with. It is but natural that the heroes of this book should have a
lively experience. There is not a dull page in the book.
=The Boy Patriot.= A Story of Jack, the Young Friend of Washington. By
EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50.
"There are adventures of all kinds for the hero and his friends, whose
pluck and ingenuity in extricating themselves from awkward fixes are
always equal to the occasion. It is an excellent story full of honest,
manly, patriotic efforts on the part of the hero. A very vivid
description of the battle of Trenton is also found in this
story."—Journal of Education.
=A Yankee Lad's Pluck.= How Bert Larkin Saved his Father's Ranch in
Porto Rico. By WM. P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
"Bert Larkin, the hero of the story, early excites our admiration, and
is altogether a fine character such as boys will delight in, whilst the
story of his numerous adventures is very graphically told. This will, we
think, prove one of the most popular boys' books this season."—Gazette.
=A Brave Defense.= A Story of the Massacre at Fort Griswold in 1781. By
WILLIAM P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Perhaps no more gallant fight against fearful odds took place during the
Revolutionary War than that at Fort Griswold, Groton Heights, Conn., in
1781. The boys are real boys who were actually on the muster rolls,
either at Fort Trumbull on the New London side, or of Fort Griswold on
the Groton side of the Thames. The youthful reader who follows Halsey
Sanford and Levi Dart and Tom Malleson, and their equally brave
comrades, through their thrilling adventures will be learning something
more than historical facts; they will be imbibing lessons of fidelity,
of bravery, of heroism, and of manliness, which must prove serviceable
in the arena of life.
=The Young Minuteman.= A Story of the Capture of General Prescott in
1777. By WILLIAM P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
This story is based upon actual events which occurred during the British
occupation of the waters of Narragansett Bay. Darius Wale and William
Northrop belong to "the coast patrol." The story is a strong one,
dealing only with actual events. There is, however, no lack of thrilling
adventure, and every lad who is fortunate enough to obtain the book will
find not only that his historical knowledge is increased, but that his
own patriotism and love of country are deepened.
=For the Temple=: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem. By G. A. HENTY. With
illustrations by S. J. SOLOMON. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.
"Mr. Henty's graphic prose picture of the hopeless Jewish resistance to
Roman sway adds another leaf to his record of the famous wars of the
world. The book is one of Mr. Henty's cleverest efforts."—Graphic.
=Roy Gilbert's Search=: A Tale of the Great Lakes. By WM. P. CHIPMAN.
12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
A deep mystery hangs over the parentage of Roy Gilbert. He arranges with
two schoolmates to make a tour of the Great Lakes on a steam launch. The
three boys visit many points of interest on the lakes. Afterwards the
lads rescue an elderly gentleman and a lady from a sinking yacht. Later
on the boys narrowly escape with their lives. The hero is a manly,
self-reliant boy, whose adventures will be followed with interest.
=The Slate Picker=: The Story of a Boy's Life in the Coal Mines. By
HARRY PRENTICE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
This is a story of a boy's life in the coal mines of Pennsylvania. Ben
Burton, the hero, had a hard road to travel, but by grit and energy he
advanced step by step until he found himself called upon to fill the
position of chief engineer of the Kohinoor Coal Company. This is a book
of extreme interest to every boy reader.
=The Boy Cruisers=; or, Paddling in Florida. By St. GEORGE RATHBORNE.
12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
Andrew George and Rowland Carter start on a canoe trip along the Gulf
coast, from Key West to Tampa, Florida. Their first adventure is with a
pair of rascals who steal their boats. Next they run into a gale in the
Gulf. After that they have a lively time with alligators and Andrew gets
into trouble with a band of Seminole Indians. Mr. Rathborne knows just
how to interest the boys, and lads who are in search of a rare treat
will do well to read this entertaining story.
=Captured by Zulus=: A Story of Trapping in Africa. By HARRY PRENTICE.
12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
This story details the adventures of two lads, Dick Elsworth and Bob
Harvey, in the wilds of South Africa. By stratagem the Zulus capture
Dick and Bob and take them to their principal kraal or village. The lads
escape death by digging their way out of the prison hut by night. They
are pursued, but the Zulus finally give up pursuit. Mr. Prentice tells
exactly how wild-beast collectors secure specimens on their native
stamping grounds, and these descriptions make very entertaining reading.
=Tom the Ready=; or, Up from the Lowest. By RANDOLPH HILL. 12mo, cloth,
illustrated, price $1.00.
This is a dramatic narrative of the unaided rise of a fearless,
ambitious boy from the lowest round of fortune's ladder to wealth and
the governorship of his native State. Tom Seacomb begins life with a
purpose, and eventually overcomes those who oppose him. How he manages
to win the battle is told by Mr. Hill in a masterful way that thrills
the reader and holds his attention and sympathy to the end.
=Captain Kidd's Gold=: The True Story of an Adventurous Sailor Boy. By
JAMES FRANKLIN FITTS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.
There is something fascinating to the average youth in the very idea of
buried treasure. A vision arises before his eyes of swarthy Portuguese
and Spanish rascals, with black beards and gleaming eyes. There were
many famous sea rovers, but none more celebrated than Capt. Kidd. Paul
Jones Garry inherits a document which locates a considerable treasure
buried by two of Kidd's crew. The hero of this hook is an ambitious,
persevering lad, of salt-water New England ancestry, and his efforts to
reach the Island and secure the money form one of the most absorbing
tales for our youth that has come from the press.
--------------
For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the
publisher, =A. L. BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York=.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
● Transcriber's Notes:
○ Missing or obscured punctuation was corrected.
○ Unbalanced quotation marks were silently corrected.
○ Typographical errors were silently corrected.
○ Spelling and hyphenation was made consistent when a predominant
form was found in this book; otherwise it was not changed.