[Illustration: DICK READING THE LETTER FROM MR. BATES.]
RAGGED DICK SERIES
BY
HORATIO ALGER JR.
[Illustration]
MARK THE MATCH BOY
MARK, THE MATCH BOY;
OR,
RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD.
BY
HORATIO ALGER, JR.,
AUTHOR OF "RAGGED DICK," "FAME AND FORTUNE," "FRANK'S
CAMPAIGN," "PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE," "CHARLIE
CODMAN'S CRUISE," ETC.
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.,
PHILADELPHIA,
CHICAGO, TORONTO.
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DIGGING FOR GOLD.
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IN A NEW WORLD.
_Other Volumes in Preparation._
COPYRIGHT BY A. K. LORING, 1869.
* * * * *
COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY HORATIO ALGER, JR.
To
_JAMES ALGER_,
THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED,
BY HIS
AFFECTIONATE BROTHER.
PREFACE.
"MARK, THE MATCH BOY," is the third volume of the "Ragged Dick Series,"
and, like its predecessors, aims to describe a special phase of street
life in New York. While it is complete in itself, several characters
are introduced who have figured conspicuously in the preceding volumes;
and the curiosity as to their future history, which has been expressed
by many young readers, will be found to be gratified in the present
volume.
The author has observed with pleasure the increased public attention
which has been drawn to the condition of these little waifs of city
life, by articles in our leading magazines, and in other ways;
and hopes that the result will be to strengthen and assist the
philanthropic efforts which are making to rescue them from their
vagabond condition, and train them up to be useful members of society.
That his own efforts have been received with so large a measure of
public favor, not limited to the young readers for whom the series is
especially written, the author desires to express his grateful thanks.
NEW YORK, April, 1869.
MARK, THE MATCH BOY;
OR,
RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD.
CHAPTER I.
RICHARD HUNTER AT HOME.
"Fosdick," said Richard Hunter, "what was the name of that man who owed
your father two thousand dollars, which he never paid him?"
"Hiram Bates," answered Fosdick, in some surprise. "What made you think
of him?"
"I thought I remembered the name. He moved out West, didn't he?"
"So I heard at the time."
"Do you happen to remember where? Out West is a very large place."
"I do not know exactly, but I think it was Milwaukie."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Richard Hunter, in visible excitement. "Well,
Fosdick, why don't you try to get the debt paid?"
"Of what use would it be? How do I know he is living in Milkwaukie now?
If I should write him a letter, there isn't much chance of my ever
getting an answer."
"Call and see him."
"What, go out to Milwaukie on such a wild-goose chase as that? I can't
think what you are driving at, Dick."
"Then I'll tell you, Fosdick. Hiram Bates is now in New York."
"How do you know?" asked Fosdick, with an expression of mingled
amazement and incredulity.
"I'll show you."
Richard Hunter pointed to the list of hotel arrivals in the "Evening
Express," which he held in his hand. Among the arrivals at the Astor
House occurred the name of Hiram Bates, from Milwaukie.
"If I am not mistaken," he said, "that is the name of your father's
debtor."
"I don't know but you are right," said Fosdick, thoughtfully.
"He must be prosperous if he stops at a high-priced hotel like the
Astor."
"Yes, I suppose so. How much good that money would have done my poor
father," he added, with a sigh.
"How much good it will do you, Fosdick."
Fosdick shook his head. "I would sell out my chance of getting it for
ten dollars," he said.
"I would buy it at that price if I wanted to make money out of you; but
I don't. I advise you to attend to this matter at once."
"What can I do?" asked Fosdick, who seemed at a loss to understand his
companion's meaning.
"There is only one thing to do," said Dick, promptly. "Call on Mr.
Bates this evening at the hotel. Tell him who you are, and hint that
you should like the money."
"I haven't got your confidence, Dick. I shouldn't know how to go about
it. Do you really think it would do any good? He might think I was
impertinent."
"Impertinent to ask payment of a just debt! I don't see it in that
light. I think I shall have to go with you."
"I wish you would,--that is, if you really think there is any use in
going."
"You mustn't be so bashful if you want to get on in the world, Fosdick.
As long as there's a chance of getting even a part of it, I advise you
to make the attempt."
"Well, Dick, I'll be guided by your advice."
"Two thousand dollars would be a pretty good windfall for you."
"That's true enough, considering that I only get eight dollars a week."
"I wish you got more."
"So do I, for one particular reason."
"What is that?"
"I don't feel satisfied to have you pay ten dollars a week towards our
board, while I pay only six."
"Didn't you promise not to say anything more about that?" said Dick,
reproachfully.
"But I can't help _thinking_ about it. If we had stayed at our old
boarding-house in Bleecker Street, I could have paid my full share."
"But this is a nicer room."
"Much nicer. If I only paid my half, I should be glad of the chance."
"Well, I'll promise you one thing. If Mr. Bates pays you the two
thousand dollars, you may pay your half of the expense."
"Not much chance of that, Dick."
"We can tell better after calling at the Astor House. Get on your coat
and we'll start."
While the boys,--for the elder of the two is but eighteen--are making
preparations to go out, a few explanations may be required by the
reader. Those who have read "Ragged Dick" and "Fame and Fortune,"--the
preceding volumes of this series,--will understand that less than three
years before Richard Hunter was an ignorant and ragged boot-black about
the streets, and Fosdick, though possessing a better education, was
in the same business. By a series of upward steps, partly due to good
fortune, but largely to his own determination to improve, and hopeful
energy, Dick had now become a book-keeper in the establishment of
Rockwell & Cooper, on Pearl Street, and possessed the confidence and
good wishes of the firm in a high degree.
Fosdick was two years younger, and, though an excellent boy, was less
confident, and not so well fitted as his friend to contend with the
difficulties of life, and fight his way upward. He was employed in
Henderson's hat and cap store on Broadway, and was at present earning a
salary of eight dollars a week. As the two paid sixteen dollars weekly
for their board, Fosdick would have had nothing left if he had paid
his full share. But Richard Hunter at first insisted on paying eleven
dollars out of the sixteen, leaving his friend but five to pay. To this
Fosdick would not agree, and was with difficulty prevailed upon at last
to allow Richard to pay ten; but he had always felt a delicacy about
this, although he well knew how gladly his friend did it.
The room which they now occupied was situated in St. Mark's Place,
which forms the eastern portion of Eighth Street. It was a front
room on the third floor, and was handsomely furnished. There was a
thick carpet, of tasteful figure, on the floor. Between the two front
windows was a handsome bureau, surmounted by a large mirror. There was
a comfortable sofa, chairs covered with hair-cloth, a centre-table
covered with books, crimson curtains, which gave a warm and cosey look
to the room when lighted up in the evening, and all the accessories of
a well-furnished room which is used at the same time as parlor and
chamber. This, with an excellent table, afforded a very agreeable home
to the boys,--a home which, in these days, would cost considerably
more, but for which, at the time of which I write, sixteen dollars was
a fair price.
It may be thought that, considering how recently Richard Hunter had
been a ragged boot-black, content to sleep in boxes and sheltered
doorways, and live at the cheapest restaurants, he had become very
luxurious in his tastes. Why did he not get a cheaper boarding-place,
and save up the difference in price? No doubt this consideration will
readily suggest itself to the minds of some of my young readers.
As Richard Hunter had a philosophy of his own on this subject, I may as
well explain it here. He had observed that those young men who out of
economy contented themselves with small and cheerless rooms, in which
there was no provision for a fire, were driven in the evening to the
streets, theatres, and hotels, for the comfort which they could not
find at home. Here they felt obliged to spend money to an extent of
which they probably were not themselves fully aware; and in the end
wasted considerably more than the two or three dollars a week extra
which would have provided them with a comfortable home. But this was
not all. In the roamings spent outside many laid the foundation of
wrong habits, which eventually led to ruin or shortened their lives.
They lost all the chances of improvement which they might have secured
by study at home in the long winter evenings, and which in the end
might have qualified them for posts of higher responsibility, and with
a larger compensation.
Richard Hunter was ambitious. He wanted to rise to an honorable place
in the community, and he meant to earn it by hard study. So Fosdick
and he were in the habit of spending a portion of every evening in
improving reading or study. Occasionally he went to some place of
amusement, but he enjoyed thoroughly the many evenings when, before a
cheerful fire, with books in their hands, his room-mate and himself
were adding to their stock of knowledge. The boys had for over a year
taken lessons in French and mathematics, and were now able to read the
French language with considerable ease.
"What's the use of moping every evening in your room?" asked a young
clerk who occupied a hall bedroom adjoining.
"I don't call it moping. I enjoy it," was the reply.
"You don't go to a place of amusement once a month."
"I go as often as I like."
"Well, you're a queer chap. You pay such a thundering price for board.
You could go to the theatre four times a week without its costing you
any more, if you would take a room like mine."
"I know it; but I'd rather have a nice, comfortable room to come home
to."
"Are you studying for a college professor?" asked the other, with a
sneer.
"I don't know," said Dick, good-humoredly; "but I'm open to proposals,
as the oyster remarked. If you know any first-class institution that
would like a dignified professor, of extensive acquirements, just
mention me, will you?"
So Richard Hunter kept on his way, indifferent to the criticisms which
his conduct excited in the minds of young men of his own age. He looked
farther than they, and knew that if he wanted to succeed in life,
and win the respect of his fellow-men, he must do something else than
attend theatres, and spend his evenings in billiard saloons. Fosdick,
who was a quiet, studious boy, fully agreed with his friend in his
views of life, and by his companionship did much to strengthen and
confirm Richard in his resolution. He was less ambitious than Dick, and
perhaps loved study more for its own sake.
With these explanations we shall now be able to start fairly in our
story.