|In the olden times there lived in the country, In England, a boy by the
name of Dick Whittington.
He did not know who his parents were, for he had been born and brought
up in the poor-house. There he was cruelly treated. When he was seven
years of age, he ran away and lived by what he could get from kind
people.
He heard that the streets of London were paved with gold. Being now a
sturdy youth, he set out for the city to make his fortune. He did not
know the way, but he fell in with a carter, who was bound for London,
and he followed the cart. When night came, he helped the carter by
rubbing down the horses, and for this he was paid with a supper.
He trudged on day after day, until they came to the famous city. The
carter was afraid Dick would hang about him and give him trouble. So he
gave him a penny and told him to begone and find some work.
Dick went from street to street, but he knew no one. He was ragged and
forlorn, and looked like a beggar. Nobody gave him anything to do.
Once in a while some one gave him something to eat, but at last he had
nothing.
For two days he went about hungry and almost starved, but he would
rather starve than steal. At the end of the second day he came to a
merchant’s house in Leadenhall Street, and stood before it, weary and
faint. The ill-natured cook saw him and came out and said:--
“Go away from here, or I will kick you away!” He crept off a little
distance and lay down on the ground, for he was too weak to stand. As he
lay there, the merchant who lived in the house came home, and stopped
to speak to him. He spoke sharply, and told him to get up, that it was a
shame for him to be lying there.
Poor Dick got up, and after falling once, through faintness and want of
food, made out to say that he was a poor country boy, nearly starved. He
would do any work if he might have food.
Mr. Fitzwarren, the merchant, took pity on him. He brought him into the
house, and bade the servants look after him. He gave him a place under
the cook, and this was the beginning of Dick’s fortune. But Dick had a
hard time of it. The servants made sport of him. The ill-natured cook
said:--
“Do you know what you are to do? You are to come under me. So look
sharp. Clean the spits and the pans, make the fires, wind up the
roasting-jack, and do nimbly all the dirty work I set you about, or
else I will break your head with my ladle, and kick you about like a
foot-ball.” This was cold comfort, but it was better than starving.
“What gave him more hope was the kind notice he had from his master’s
daughter, Mistress Alice. She heard Dick’s story from her father, and
called for the boy. She asked him questions, and he was so honest in his
answers, that she went to her father, and said:--
“That poor boy whom you brought into the house is a good, honest fellow.
I am sure he will be very useful. He can clean shoes, and run errands,
and do many things which our servants do not like to do.”