INTRODUCES A DISTINGUISHED PERSONAGE.
"'Times,' 'Herald,' 'Tribune,' 'World'!" cried Rough and Ready, from his
old place in front of the "Times" building. "All the news that's going,
for only four cents! That's cheap enough, isn't it? Have a paper, sir?"
"I don't know. Is there any particular news this morning?" asked the
individual addressed.
"Yes, sir, lots of it. You will find ten cents' worth in every one of
the papers, which will give you a clear profit of six cents on your
investment. Which will you have?"
"Let me look at a paper a minute, and I'll see."
"I don't do business that way," said the newsboy; "not since one morning
when I let an old gentleman look at a paper just for a minute. He read
it for half an hour, and then returned it, sayin' there wasn't much in
it, and he guessed he wouldn't buy."
"Well, here's your money. Give me the 'Times,'" said the other.
"Here you are!" said the newsboy, pocketing the money, and placing a
"Times" in the hand of the purchaser.
"Give me the 'Herald,'" said another.
Unfolding the paper, he glanced his eye over it, and said, in evident
disappointment, "I heard there was a railroad accident somewhere, with
about fifty persons killed and wounded; but I don't see it anywhere."
"I'm sorry you're disappointed," said the newsboy. "It's soothin' to the
feelings to read about a smash-up, with lots of persons killed and
wounded. Just come along to-morrow mornin', and I guess you'll find what
you want."
"What makes you think so?" asked the customer, suspiciously.
"If you won't mention it," said Rough and Ready, lowering his voice, "I
don't mind telling you that the 'Herald' has sent up a reporter to put a
big rock on the Erie Road, and throw off the afternoon train. As he will
be on the spot, he can give a full report, exclusive for the 'Herald'!
Then again, the 'Times' and 'Tribune' are arrangin' to get up some
'horrid murders.' Maybe they'll have 'em in to-morrow's paper. You'd
better come round, and buy 'em all. I'll make a discount to a wholesale
customer."
"It's my belief that you're a humbug," said the disappointed customer.
"Thank you, sir," said Rough and Ready; "I've been takin' lessons of
Barnum, only I haven't made so much money yet."
The next customer asked for the "Tribune."
"Here it is, sir."
"Did you ever see Mr. Greeley?" he inquired. "I live in the country, and
I have often thought I should like to see so intrepid a champion of the
people's rights."
"There he is now," said the newsboy, pointing to a somewhat portly man,
who had just got out of a horse-car.
"You don't say so!" ejaculated the country reader of the "Tribune." "I
should like to go and shake hands with him, but he might take it as too
great a liberty. I didn't know he was so stout."
"Go ahead!" said the newsboy. "He won't mind. He's used to it."
"I think I will. I should like to tell the folks at home that I had
shaken hands with Horace Greeley."
Now it happened that the personage who had been pointed out as Horace
Greeley was really no other than Mr. Barnum himself, the illustrious
showman. The newsboy was well aware of this, and was led to make the
statement by his desire to see a little fun. I shall not attempt to
justify him in this deception; but I have undertaken to set Rough and
Ready before the reader as he was, not as he ought to be, and, though a
good boy in the main, he was not without faults.
Mr. Greeley's admirer walked up to Mr. Barnum, and grasped his hand
cordially.
"Sir," he said, "I hope you will excuse the liberty I am taking, but I
couldn't help addressing you."
"I am glad to meet you, sir," said Mr. Barnum, courteously. "Perhaps I
have met you before, but I meet so many people that I cannot always
remember faces."
"No, sir, we have never met before, but your fame has reached our
village; indeed, I may say, it has spread all over the country, and when
I was told who you were I could not help coming up and telling you how
much we all sympathize with you in your philanthropic efforts."
Mr. Barnum looked somewhat perplexed. He was not altogether certain
whether his temperance lectures were referred to, or his career as
manager of the Museum. He answered therefore rather vaguely, "I try to
do something to make the world happier. I am very glad my efforts are
appreciated."
"Yes, sir, you may be certain they are appreciated throughout the length
and breadth of the land," said the other, fervently.
"You are very kind," said Barnum; "but I am afraid you will not get all
to agree with you. There are some who do not view me so favorably."
"Of course. Such is always the fate of the philanthropist. There are
some, no doubt, who decry you, but their calumnies are unavailable.
'Truth crashed to earth will rise again.' I need not continue the
quotation."
"You are certainly very complimentary, Mr.——; perhaps you will oblige me
with your name."
"Nathan Bedloe. I keep a seminary in the country. I have read the
'Tribune' for years, Mr. Greeley, and have found in your luminous
editorials the most satisfactory exposition of the principles which I
profess."
Mr. Barnum's eyes distended with astonishment as he caught the name
Greeley, and his facial muscles twitched a little.
"How did you know me?" he asked.
"That newsboy pointed you out to me," said the other, indicating Rough
and Ready, who was watching with interest the conversation between the
two.
"Yes, the newsboys know me," said Barnum. "So you like the 'Tribune'?"
"Yes, sir, it is an admirable paper. I would as soon do without my
dinner as without it."
"I am very glad you like it," said Barnum; "but I fear my own
contributions to it (referring to the advertisement of the Museum) are
not worthy of such kind compliments. I must bid you good-morning, at
present, as my engagements are numerous."
"I can easily believe it, Mr. Greeley. Good-by, sir. Thank you for your
kind reception of an humble stranger."
There was another shaking of hands, and Mr. Bedloe departed under the
firm conviction that he had seen and talked with Horace Greeley.
Three minutes later, Rough and Ready felt a hand upon his shoulder.
Lifting up his eyes, he recognized Mr. Barnum.
"Do you know me?" asked the latter.
"Yes, sir, you are Mr. Barnum."
"Were you the boy who pointed me out as Horace Greeley?"
"Yes, sir," said Rufus, laughing; "but I didn't think the man would
believe it."
"He thinks so still," said Barnum. "I don't think there's much personal
resemblance between me and the editor of the 'Tribune,'" he continued,
meditatively.
"No, sir, not much."
"Don't do it again, my lad. It's wrong to hum-bug people, you know. By
the way, do you ever come to the Museum?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, your joke is worth something. Here is a season ticket for three
months."
He handed the newsboy, as he spoke, a slip of paper on which was
written:—
"Admit the bearer to any performance in the Museum
during the next three months.
P. T. BARNUM."
"I got off better than I expected," thought Rough and Ready. "I didn't
know but both of 'em would get mad, and be down upon me. I wish he'd
given me a ticket for three, and I'd have taken Miss Manning and Rose
along with me."
As he thought of Rose, it was with a feeling of satisfaction that she
was so well provided for. He had the utmost confidence in Miss Manning,
and he saw that a mutual affection had sprung up between her and his
little sister.
"It'll be jolly when Rose grows up, and can keep house for me," he said
to himself. "I hope I'll be in some good business then. Selling papers
will do very well now, but I want to do something else after a while. I
wonder whether that three hundred dollars I've got in the bank wouldn't
set me up in some kind of business."
While these thoughts were passing through his mind, he still kept crying
his papers, and presently he had sold the last one. It was still
comparatively early, and he thought he would look about a little to see
if there was no chance of earning a little extra money by running on an
errand.
After a while he was commissioned to carry a message to Twenty-Second
Street, for which he was to receive twenty-five cents, and his car
fares.
"I'll walk back," he thought, "and in that way I'll save six cents out
of the fares."
The walk being a long one, he was absent a considerable time, especially
as he stopped for a while at an auction on Broadway. At last he reached
his old stand, and was thinking of buying some evening papers, when he
heard his name called in a tone of anxiety.
Turning suddenly, he recognized Miss Manning.
"Miss Manning!" he exclaimed, in surprise. "How do you happen to be
here?"
"I came to see you, Rufus."
"Has anything happened?" he asked anxiously, seeing the troubled
expression of her countenance. "Nothing is the matter with Rose, is
there?"
"She has gone."
"Gone!"
"Yes, she has disappeared."
"Don't say that, Miss Manning. Tell me quick all about it."
"I sent her out on an errand this morning, just around the corner, for a
spool of cotton, and she has not got back."
"Do you think she lost her way?"
"She couldn't very well do that, it was so near by. No, Rufus, I am
afraid she has been carried off by your stepfather."
"What makes you think so, Miss Manning?" demanded Rufus, in excitement.
"I waited half an hour after she went out, wondering what could keep her
so long. Then I began to feel anxious, and put on my bonnet, and slipped
downstairs into the street. I went round to the store, and found she had
gone there and made the purchase, and gone away directly. I was
wondering what to do next, when one of the neighbors came up, and said
she saw Rose dragged away by a tall man. She gave me a description of
him, and it corresponds exactly to the description of Mr. Martin. I am
afraid, Rufus, that he has carried our dear little Rose away. What shall
we do?"
"I'll have her back," said Rufus, energetically. "He's got her now; but
he shan't keep her. But I'm afraid," he added, sorrowfully, "she'll be
ill-treated before I can recover her, poor Rose!"