I did not feel rich enough to take a stateroom on the City of Lawrence;
that would have cost a dollar extra; so I picked out a sofa in the
big gilt and white saloon, and sitting down upon it, proceeded to make
myself as comfortable as the circumstances would permit. A small boy,
armed with a large sword, and standing guard over a hand-satchel and
a square package done up in a newspaper--which last contained my Uncle
Florimond's copy of _Paul et Virginie_--I dare say I presented a curious
spectacle to the passers-by. Indeed, almost everybody turned to look at
me; and one man, with an original wit, inquired, “Hello, sword, where
you going with that boy?” But my mind was too busy with other and
weightier matters to be disturbed about mere appearances. One thought in
particular occupied it: I must not on any account allow myself to fall
asleep--for then I might be robbed. No; I must take great pains to keep
wide awake all night long.
For the first hour or two it was easy enough to make this resolution
good. The undiscovered country awaiting my exploration, the novelty and
the excitement of my position, the people walking back and forth, and
laughing and chattering, the noises coming from the dock outside, and
from every corner of the steamboat inside, the bright lights of the
cabin lamps--all combined to put my senses on the alert, and to banish
sleep. But after we had got under way, and the other passengers had
retired to their berths or staterooms, and most of the lamps had been
extinguished, and the only sound to be heard was the muffled throbbing
of the engines, then tired nature asserted herself, the sandman came, my
eyelids grew very heavy, I began to nod. Er-rub-dub-dub, er-rub-dub-dub,
went the engines; er-rub-dubdub, er-rub-er-rub-er-er-er-r-r...,
Mercy! With a sudden start I came to myself. It was broad day. I had
been sleeping soundly for I knew not how many hours.
My first thought, of course, was for my valuables. Had my fears been
realized? Had I been robbed? I hastened to make an investigation. No!
My money, my sword, my satchel, my _Paul et Virginie_, remained in their
proper places, unmolested. Having relieved my anxiety on this head, I
got up, stretched myself, and went out on deck.
If I live to be a hundred, I don't believe I shall ever forget my first
breath of the outdoor air on that red-letter April morning--it was so
sweet, so pure, so fresh and keen and stimulating. It sent a glow of new
vitality tingling through my body. I just stood still and drew in deep
inhalations of it with delight. It was like drinking a rich, delicious
wine. My heart warmed and mellowed. Hope and gladness entered into it.
It must have been very early. The sun, a huge ball of gold, floated into
rosy mists but a little higher than the horizon; and a heavy dew bathed
the deck and the chairs and the rail. We were speeding along, almost,
it seemed, within a stone's throw of the shore, where the turf was
beginning to put on the first vivid green of spring, where the leafless
trees were exquisitely penciled against the gleaming sky, and where,
from the chimneys of the houses, the smoke of breakfast fires curled
upward: Over all there lay a wondrous, restful stillness, which the
pounding of our paddle-wheels upon the water served only to accentuate,
and which awoke in one's breast a deep, solemn, and yet joyous sense of
peace.
I staid out on deck from that moment until, some two hours later, we
brought up alongside our pier; and with what strange and strong emotions
I watched the vast town grow from a mere distant reddish blur to the
grim, frowning mass of brick and stone it really is, I shall not attempt
to tell. To a country-bred lad like myself it was bound to be a stirring
and memorable experience. Looking back at it now, I can truly say that
it was one of the most stirring and memorable experiences of my life.
It was precisely eight o'clock, as a gentleman of whom I inquired
the hour was kind enough to inform me, when I stepped off the City of
Lawrence and into the city of New York. My heart was bounding, but my
poor brain was bewildered. The hurly-burly of people, the fierce-looking
men at the entrance of the dock, who shook their fists at me, and
shouted, “Cadge, cadge, want a cadge?” leaving me to wonder what a
cadge was, the roar and motion of the wagons in the street, everything,
everything interested, excited, yet also confused, baffled, and to
some degree frightened me. I felt as though I had been set down in
pandemonium; yet I was not sorry to be there; I rather liked it.
I went up to a person whom I took to be a policeman, for he wore a
uniform resembling that worn by our one single policeman in Norwich
City; and, exhibiting the card that Mr. Marx had given me, I asked him
how to reach the street and house indicated upon it.
He eyed me with unconcealed amusement at my accoutrements, and answered,
“Ye wahk down tin blocks; thin turrun to yer lift four blocks; thin down
wan; thin to yer roight chew or thray doors; and there ye are.”
“Thank you, sir,” said I, and started off, repeating his instructions to
myself, so as not to forget them.
I felt very hungry, and I hoped that Mr. Marx would offer me some
breakfast; but it did not occur to me to stop at an eating-house, and
breakfast on my own account, until, as I was trudging along, I presently
caught sight of a sign-board standing on the walk in front of a
shop, which advertised, in big conspicuous white letters upon a black
ground:--
[Illustration: 0084]
Merely to read the names of these good things made my mouth water. The
prices seemed reasonable. I walked into the ladies' and gents' dining
parlor--which was rather shabby and dingy, I thought, for a parlor--and
asked for a beefsteak and some fried potatoes; a burly,
villainous-looking colored man, in his shirt-sleeves, having demanded,
“Wall, Boss, wottle you have?” His shirt-sleeves were not immaculately
clean; neither was the dark red cloth that covered my table; neither, I
feared, was the fork he gave me to eat with. To make sure, I picked this
last-named object up, and examined it; whereupon the waiter, with a
horrid loud laugh, cried, “Oh! yassah, it's sawlid, sawlid silvah, sah,”
which made me feel wretchedly silly and uncomfortable. The beefsteak was
pretty tough, and not especially toothsome in its flavor; the potatoes
were lukewarm and greasy; the bread was soggy, the butter rancid; the
waiter took up a position close at hand, and stared at me with his
wicked little eyes as steadily as if he had never seen a boy before: so,
despite my hunger, I ate with a poor appetite, and was glad enough when
by and by I left the ladies' and gents' dining parlor behind me, and
resumed my journey through the streets. As I was crossing the threshold,
the waiter called after me, “Say, Johnny, where joo hook the sword?”
Inquiring my way of each new policeman that I passed--for I distrusted
my memory of the directions I had received from the first--I finally
reached No. ----, Franklin Street and read the name of Krauskopf,
Sollinger & Co., engraved in Old English letters upon a shining metal
sign. I entered, and with a trembling heart inquired for Mr. Marx. Ten
seconds later I stood before him.
[Illustration: 0093]
“Mr. Marx,” I ventured, in rather a timid voice.
He was seated in a swivel-chair, reading a newspaper, and smoking a
cigar. At the sound of his name, he glanced up, and looked at me for a
moment with an absent-minded and indifferent face, showing no glimmer
of recognition. But then, suddenly, his eyes lighted; he sprang from his
chair, started back, and cried:--
“My kracious! was dot you, Bubby? Was dot yourself? Was dot--well, my
koodness!”
“Yes, sir; Gregory Brace,” I replied.
“Krekory Prace! Yes, dot's a fact. No mistake about it. It's
yourself, sure. But--but, koodness kracious, Bubby,
what--how--why--when--where--where you come from? When you leave
Nawvich? How you get here? What you--well, it's simply wonderful.”
“I came down on the boat last night,” I said.
“Oh! you came down on de boat last night. Well, I svear. Well, Bubby,
who came mit you?”
“Nobody, sir; I came alone.”
“You came alone! You don't say so. Well, did your mamma--excuse me; you
ain't got no mamma; I forgot; it was your uncle--well, did your uncle
know you was come?”
“Oh! yes, sir; he knows it; he said I might.”
“He said you might, hey? Well, dot's fine. Well, Bubby, what you come
for? To make a little visit, hey, and go around a little, and see the
town? Well, Bubby, this was a big surprise; it was, and no mistake. But
I'm glad to see you, all de same. Well, shake hands.”
“No, sir,” I explained, after we had shaken hands, “I didn't come for a
visit. I came to go into business. You said you would get me a job, and
I have come for that.”
“Oh! you was come to go into pusiness, was you? And you want I should
get you a chop? Well, if I ever! Well, you're a great feller, Bubby;
you got so much ambition about you. Well, dot's all right. I get you
the chop, don't you be afraid. We talk about dot in a minute. But now,
excuse me, Bubby, but what you doing mit the sword? Was you going to
kill somebody mit it, hey, Bubby?”
“O, no, sir! it--it's a keepsake.”
“Oh! it was a keepsake, was it, Bubby? Well, dot's grand. Well, who was
it a keepsake of? It's a handsome sword, Bubby, and it must be worth
quite a good deal of money. If dot's chenu-wine gold, I shouldn't wonder
if it was worth two or three hundred dollars.--Oh! by the way, Bubby,
you had your breakfast yet already?”
“Well, yes, sir; I've had a sort of breakfast.”
“A sort of a breakfast, hey? Well, what sort of a breakfast was it?”
I gave him an account of my experience in the ladies' and gents' dining
parlor. He laughed immoderately, though I couldn't see that it was so
very funny. “Well, Bubby,” he remarked, “dot was simply immense. Dot
oughter go into a comic paper, mit a picture of dot big nigger staring
at you. Well, I give ten dollars to been there, and heard him tell
you dot fork was solid silver. Well, dot was a. pretty poor sort of a
breakfast, anyhow. I guess you better come along out mit me now, and we
get anudder sort of a breakfast, hey? You just wait here a minute while
I go put on my hat. And say, Bubby, I guess you better give me dot
sword, to leaf here while we're gone. I don't believe you'll need it.
Give me dem udder things, too,” pointing to my satchel and my book.
He went away, but soon came back, with his hat on; and, taking my hand,
he led me out into the street. After a walk of a few blocks, we turned
into a luxurious little restaurant, as unlike the dining parlor as a
fine lady is unlike a beggar woman, and sat down at a neat round table
covered with a snowy cloth.
“Now, Bubby,” inquired Mr. Marx, “you got any preferences? Or will you
give me card blanch to order what I think best?”
“Oh! order what you think best.”
He beckoned a waiter, and spoke to him at some length in a foreign
language, which, I guessed, was German. The waiter went off; and then,
addressing me, Mr. Marx said, “Well, now, Bubby, now we're settled down,
quiet and comfortable, now you go ahead and tell me all about it.”
“All about what, sir?” queried I.
“Why, all about yourself, and what you leaf your home for, and what
you expect to do here in New York, and every dings--the whole pusiness.
Well, fire away.”
“Well, sir, I--it--it's this way,” I began. And then, as well as I
could, I told Mr. Marx substantially everything that I have as yet told
you in this story--about my grandmother, my Uncle Florimond, my
Uncle Peter, and all the rest. Meanwhile the waiter had brought the
breakfast--such an abundant, delicious breakfast! such juicy mutton
chops, such succulent stewed potatoes, such bread, such butter, such
coffee!--and I was violating the primary canons of good breeding by
talking with my mouth full. Mr. Marx heard me through with every sign
of interest and sympathy, only interrupting once, to ask, “Well, what I
ordered--I hope it gives you entire satisfaction, hey?” and when I had
done:--
“Well, if I ever!” he exclaimed. “Well, dot beats de record! Well, dot
Uncle Peter was simply outracheous! Well, Bubby, you done just right,
you done just exactly right, to come to me. The only thing dot surprises
me is how you stood it so long already. Well, dot Uncle Peter of yours,
Bubby--well, dot's simply unnecheral.”
He paused for a little, and appeared to be thinking. By and by he went
on, “But your grandma, Bubby, your grandma was elegant. Yes, Bubby, your
grandma was an angel, and no mistake about it. She reminds me, Bubby,
she reminds me of my own mamma. Ach, Krekory, my mamma was so loafly.
You couldn't hardly believe it. She was simply magnificent. Your grandma
and her, they might have been ter_vins_. Yes, Krekory, they might have
been ter_vin_ sisters.”
Much to my surprise, Mr. Marx's eyes filled with tears, and there was a
frog in his voice. “I can't help it, Bubby,” he said. “When you told me
about dot grandma of yours, dot made me feel like crying. You see,” he
added in an apologetic key, “I got so much sentiment about me.”
He was silent again for a little, and then again by and by he went on,
“But I tell you what, Krekory, it's awful lucky dot you came down to
New York just exactly when you did. Uddervise--if you'd come tomorrow
instead of to-day, for example--you wouldn't have found me no more.
Tomorrow morning I start off on the road for a six weeks' trip. What you
done, hey, if you come down to New York and don't find me, hey, Bubby?
Dot would been fearful, hey? Well, now, Krekory, now about dot chop.
Well, as I got to leaf town to-morrow morning, I ain't got the time to
find you a first-class chop before I go. But I tell you what I do. I
take you up and introduce you to my fader-in-law; and you stay mit him
till I get back from my trip, and then I find you the best chop in the
market, don't you be afraid. My fader-in-law was a cheweler of the name
of Mr. Finkelstein, Mr. Gottlieb Finkelstein. He's one of the nicest
gentlemen you want to know, Bubby, and he'll treat you splendid. As soon
as you get through mit dot breakfast, I take you up and introduce you to
him.”
We went back to Mr. Marx's place of business, and got my traps; and then
we took a horse-car up-town to Mr. Finkelstein's, which was in Third
Avenue near Forty-Seventh Street. Mr. Marx talked to me about his
father-in-law all the time.
“He's got more wit about him than any man of my acquaintance,” he said,
“and he's so fond of music. He's a vidower, you know, Bubby; and I
married his only daughter, of the name of Hedwig. Me and my wife, we
board; but Mr. Finkelstein, he lives up-stairs over his store, mit an
old woman of the name of Henrietta, for houze-keeper. Well, you'll like
him first-rate, Bubby, you see if you don't; and he'll like you, you
got so much enerchy about you. My kracious! If you talk about eating, he
sets one of the grandest tables in the United States. And he's so fond
of music, Krek-ory--it's simply wonderful. But I tell you one thing,
Bubby; don't you never let him play a game of pinochle mit you, or else
you get beat all holler. He's the most magnificent pinochle player in
New York City; he's simply A-number-one.. . . Hello! here we are.”
We left the horse-car, and found ourselves in front of a small jeweler's
shop, which we entered. The shop was empty, but, a bell over the door
having tinkled in announcement of our arrival, there entered next moment
from the room behind it an old gentleman, who, as soon as he saw Mr.
Marx, cried, “Hello, Solly! Is dot you? Vail, I declare! Vail, how goes
it?”
The very instant I first set eyes on him, I thought this was one of the
pleasantest-looking old gentlemen I had ever seen in my life; and I am
sure you would have shared my opinion if you had seen him, too. He was
quite short--not taller than five feet two or three at the utmost--and
as slender as a young girl; but he had a head and face that were really
beautiful. His forehead was high, and his hair, white as snow and soft
as silk, was combed straight back from it. A long white silky beard
swept downward over his breast, half-way to his waist. His nose was a
perfect aquiline, and it reminded me a little of my grandmother's,
only it was longer and more pointed. But what made his face especially
prepossessing were his eyes; the kindest, merriest eyes you can imagine;
dark blue in color; shining with a mild, sweet light that won your heart
at once, yet having also a humorous twinkle in them. Yes, the moment I
first saw Mr. Finkelstein I took a liking to him; a liking which was
ere a great while to develop into one of the strongest affections of my
life.
“Vail, how goes it?” he had inquired of Mr. Marx; and Mr. Marx had
answered, “First-class. How's yourself?”
“Oh! vail, pretty fair, tank you. I cain't complain. I like to be
better, but I might be vorse. Vail, how's Heddie?”
“Oh! Hedwig, she's immense, as usual. Well, how's business?”
“Oh! don't aisk me. Poor, dirt-poor. I ain't made no sale vort
mentioning dese two or tree days already. Only vun customer here dis
morning yet, and he didn't buy nodings. Aifter exaiming five tousand
tol-lars vort of goots, he tried to chew me down on a two tollar and a
haif plated gold vatch-chain. Den I aisked him vedder he took my
establishment for a back-handed owction, and he got maid and vent avay.
Vail, I cain't help it; I must haif my shoke, you know, Solly. Vail,
come along into de parlor. Valk in, set down, make yourself to home.”
Without stopping his talk, he led us into the room behind the shop,
which was very neatly and comfortably furnished, and offered us chairs.
“Set down,” said he, “and make yourself shust as much to home as if you
belonged here. I hate to talk to a man stainding up. Vail, Solly, I'm
real glaid to see you; but, tell me, Solly, was dis young shentleman mit
you a sort of a body-guard, hey?”
“A body-guard?” repeated Mr. Marx, “how you mean?”
“Why, on account of de sword; I tought maybe you took him along for
brodection.”
“Ach, my kracious, fader-in-law, you're simply killing, you got so much
wit about you,” cried Mr. Marx, laughing.
“Vail, I must haif my shoke, dot's a faict,” admitted Mr. Finkelstein.
“Vail, Soily, you might as vail make us acqvainted, hey?”
“Well, dot's what brought me up here this morning, fader-in-law. I
wanted to introduce him to you. Well, this is Mr. Krekory Prace--Mr.
Finkelstein.”
“Bleased to make your acqvaintance, Mr. Prace; shake hands,” said Mr.
Finkelstein. “And so your name was Kraikory, was it, Shonny? I used to
know a Mr. Kraikory kept an undertaker's estaiblishment on Sixt Aivenue.
Maybe he was a relation of yours, hey?”
“No, sir; I don't think so. Gregory is only my first name,” I answered.
“Well, now, fader-in-law,” struck in Mr. Marx, “you remember dot boy I
told you about up in Nawvich, what jumped into the water, and saved me
my fishing-pole already, de udder day?”
“Yes, Solly, I remember. Vail?”
“Well, fader-in-law, this was the boy.”
“What! Go 'vay!” exclaimed Mr. Finkelstein. “You don't mean it! Vail, if
I aifer! Vail, Shonny, let me look at you.” He looked at me with all his
eyes, swaying his head slowly from side to side as he did so. “Vail, I
wouldn't haif believed, it, aictually.”
“It's a fact, all de same; no mistake about it,” attested Mr. Marx. “And
now he's come down to New York, looking for a chop.”
“A shop, hey? Vail, what kind of a shop does he vant, Solly? I should
tink a shop by de vater-vorks vould be about his ticket, hey?”
“Oh! no shoking. Pusiness is pusiness, fader-in-law,” Mr. Marx
protested. “Well, seriously, I guess he ain't particular what kind of a
chop, so long as it's steady and has prospects. He's got so much enerchy
and ambition about him, I guesss he'll succeed in 'most any kind of a
chop. But first I guess you better let him tell you de reasons he leaf
his home, and den you can give him your advice. Go ahead, Bubby, and
tell Mr. Finkelstein what you told me down by the restaurant.”
“Yes, go ahead, Shonny,” Mr. Finkelstein added; and so for a second time
that day I gave an account of myself.
Mr. Finkelstein was even a more sympathetic listener than Mr. Marx had
been. He kept swaying his head and muttering ejaculations, sometimes in
English, sometimes in German, but always indicative of his eager
interest in my tale. “_Mein Gott!_” “_Ist's moglich?_” “You don't say
so!” “Vail, if I aifer!” And his kind eyes were all the time fixed upon
my face in the most friendly and encouraging way. In the end, “Vail, I
declare! Vail, my kracious!” he cried. “Vail, Shonny, I naifer heard
nodings like dot in all my life before. You poor little boy! All alone
in de vorld, mit nobody but dot parparian, dot saivage, to take care of
you. Vail, it was simply heart-rending. Vail, your Uncle Peter, he'd
oughter be tarred and feddered, dot's a faict. But don't you be afraid,
Shonny; God will punish him; He will, shust as sure as I'm sitting here,
Kraikory. Oh! you're a good boy, Kraikory, you're a fine boy. You make
me loaf you already like a fader. Vail, Shonny, and so now you was come
down to New York mit de idea of getting rich, was you?”
“Yes, sir,” I confessed.
“Vail, dot's a first-claiss idea. Dot's de same idea what I come to
dis country mit. Vail, now, I give you a little piece of information,
Shonny; what maybe you didn't know before. Every man in dis vorld was
born to get rich. Did you know dot, Shonny?”
“Why, no, sir; I didn't know it. Is it true?”
“Yes, sir; it's a solemn faict. I leaf it to Solly, here. Every man in
dis vorld is born to get rich--only some of 'em don't live long enough.
You see de point?”
Mr. Marx and I joined in a laugh. Mr. Finkelstein smiled faintly, and
said, as if to excuse himself, “Vail, I cain't help it. I must haif my
shoke.”
“The grandest thing about your wit, fader-in-law,” Mr. Marx observed,
“is dot you don't never laugh yourself.”
“No; dot's so,” agreed Mr. Finkelstein. “When you get off a vitticism,
you don't vant to laif yourself, for fear you might laif de cream off
it.”
“Ain't he immense?” demanded Mr. Marx, in an aside to me. Then, turning
to his father-in-law: “Well, as I was going to tell you, I got to leaf
town to-morrow morning for a trip on the road; so I thought I'd ask you
to let Krekory stay here mit you till I get back. Den I go to vork and
look around for a chop for him.”
“Solly,” replied Mr. Finkelstein, “you got a good heart; and your brains
is simply remarkable. You done shust exaictly right. I'm very glaid
to have such a fine boy for a visitor. But look at here, Solly; I was
tinking vedder I might not manufacture a shop for him myself.”
“Manufacture a chop? How you mean?” Mr. Marx queried.
“How I mean? How should I mean? I mean I ain't got no ready-mait shops
on hand shust now in dis estaiblishment; but I might mainufacture a shop
for the right party. You see de point?”
“You mean you'll make a chop for him? You mean you'll give him a chop
here, by you?” cried Mr. Marx.
“Vail, Solomon, if you was as vise as your namesake, you might haif
known dot mitout my going into so much eggsblanations.”
“My kracious, fader-in-law, you're simply elegant, you're simply loafly,
and no mistake about it. Well, I svear!”
“Oh! dot's all right. Don't mention it. I took a chenu-wine liking to
Kraikory; he's got so much enterprise about him,” said Mr. Finkelstein.
“Well, what sort of a chop would it be, fader-in-law?” questioned Mr.
Marx.
“Vail, I tink I give him de position of clerk, errant boy, and sheneral
assistant,” Mr. Finkelstein replied.
“Well, Krekory, what you say to dot?” Mr. Marx inquired.
“De question is, do you accept de appointment?” added Mr. Finkelstein.
“O, yes, sir!” I answered. “You're very, very kind, you're very good
to me. I--” I had to stop talking, and take a good big swallow, to keep
down my tears; yet, surely, I had nothing to cry about!
“Well, fader-in-law, what vages will you pay?” pursued Mr. Marx.
“Vail, Solly, what vages was dey paying now to boys of his age?”
“Well, they generally start them on two dollars a week.”
“Two tollars a veek, and he boards and clodes himself, hey?”
“Yes, fader-in-law, dot's de system.”
“Vail, Solly, I tell you what I do. I board and clode him, and give him
a quarter a veek to get drunk on. Is dot saitisfaictory?”
“But, sir,” I hastened to put in, pained and astonished at his remark,
“I--I don't get drunk.”
“O, Lord, Bubby!” cried Mr. Marx, laughing. “You're simply killing! He
don't mean get drunk. Dot's only his witty way of saying pocket-money.”
“Oh! I--I understand,” I stammered.
“You must excuse me, Shonny,” said Mr. Finkelstein. “I didn't mean to
make you maid. But I must haif my shoke, you know; I cain't help it.
Vail, Solly, was de proposition saitisfaictory?”
“Well, Bubby, was Mr. Finkelstein's proposition satisfactory?” asked Mr.
Marx.
“O, yes, sir! yes, indeed,” said I.
“Vail, all right; dot settles it,” concluded Mr. Finkelstein. “And now,
Kraikory, I pay you your first veek's sailary in advaince, hey?” and he
handed me a crisp twenty-five-cent paper piece.
I was trying, in the depths of my own mind, to calculate how long it
would take me, at this rate, to earn the hundred dollars that I needed
for my journey across the sea to my Uncle Florimond. The outlook was
not encouraging. I remembered, though, a certain French proverb that
my grandmother had often repeated to me, and I tried to find
some consolation in it: “_Tout vient à la fin à qui sait
attendre_”--Everything comes at last to him who knows how to wait.