Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger
PAUL THE PEDDLER,
OR THE FORTUNES OF A YOUNG STREET MERCHANT
By Horatio Alger, Jr.
BIOGRAPHY AND BIBLIOGRAPHY
Horatio Alger, Jr., an author who lived among and for boys and himself
remained a boy in heart and association till death, was born at Revere,
Mass., January 13, 1834. He was the son of a clergyman, was graduated
at Harvard College in 1852, and at its Divinity School in 1860 and was
pastor of the Unitarian Church at Brewster, Mass., in 1862-66.
In the latter year he settled in New York and began drawing public
attention to the condition and needs of street boys. He mingled with
them, gained their confidence showed a personal concern in their
affairs, and stimulated them to honest and useful living. With his first
story he won the hearts of all red-blooded boys everywhere, and of the
seventy or more that followed over a million copies were sold during the
author's lifetime.
In his later life he was in appearance a short, stout, bald-headed man,
with cordial manners and whimsical views of things that amused all who
met him. He died at Natick, Mass., July 18, 1899.
Mr. Alger's stories are as popular now as when first published, because
they treat of real live boys who were always up and about--just like
the boys found everywhere to-day. They are pure in tone and inspiring
in influence, and many reforms in the juvenile life of New York may be
traced to them. Among the best known are:
Strong and Steady; Strive and Succeed; Try and Trust; Bound to Rise;
Risen from the Ranks; Herbert Carter's Legacy; Brave and Bold; Jack's
Ward; Shifting for Himself; Wait and Hope; Paul the Peddler; Phil
the Fiddler; Slow and Sure; Julius the Street Boy; Tom the Bootblack;
Struggling Upward, Facing the World; The Cash Boy; Making His Way; Tony
the Tramp; Joe's Luck; Do and Dare; Only an Irish Boy; Sink or Swim;
A Cousin's Conspiracy; Andy Gordon; Bob Burton; Harry Vane; Hector's
Inheritance; Mark Mason's Triumph; Sam's Chance; The Telegraph Boy; The
Young Adventurer; The Young Outlaw; The Young Salesman, and Luke Walton.
PAUL THE PEDDLER
CHAPTER I
PAUL THE PEDDLER
“Here's your prize packages! Only five cents! Money prize in every
package! Walk up, gentlemen, and try your luck!”
The speaker, a boy of fourteen, stood in front of the shabby brick
building, on Nassau street, which has served for many years as the New
York post office. In front of him, as he stood with his back to the
building, was a small basket, filled with ordinary letter envelopes,
each labeled “Prize Package.”
His attractive announcement, which, at that time, had also the merit of
novelty--for Paul had himself hit upon the idea, and manufactured the
packages, as we shall hereafter explain--drew around him a miscellaneous
crowd, composed chiefly of boys.
“What's in the packages, Johnny?” asked a bootblack, with his box
strapped to his back.
“Candy,” answered Paul. “Buy one. Only five cents.”
“There ain't much candy,” answered the bootblack, with a disparaging
glance.
“What if there isn't? There's a prize.”
“How big a prize?”
“There's a ten-cent stamp in some of 'em. All have got something in
'em.”
Influenced by this representation, the bootblack drew out a five-cent
piece, and said:
“Pitch one over then. I guess I can stand it.” An envelope was at once
handed him.
“Open it, Johnny,” said a newsboy at his side. Twenty curious eyes were
fixed upon him as he opened the package. He drew out rather a scanty
supply of candy, and then turning to Paul, with a look of indignation,
said:
“Where's the prize? I don't see no prize. Give me back my five cents.”
“Give it to me. I'll show you,” said the young merchant.
He thrust in his finger, and drew out a square bit of paper, on which
was written--One Cent.
“There's your prize,” he added, drawing a penny from his pocket.
“It ain't much of a prize,” said the buyer. “Where's your ten cents?”
“I didn't say I put ten cents into every package,” answered Paul.
“I'd burst up pretty quick if I did that. Who'll have another package?
Only five cents!”
Curiosity and taste for speculation are as prevalent among children as
with men, so this appeal produced its effect.
“Give me a package,” said Teddy O'Brien, a newsboy, stretching out a
dirty hand, containing the stipulated sum. He also was watched curiously
as he opened the package. He drew out a paper bearing the words--Two
Cents.
“Bully for you, Teddy! You've had better luck than I,” said the
bootblack.
The check was duly honored, and Teddy seemed satisfied, though
the amount of candy he received probably could not have cost over
half-a-cent. Still, he had drawn twice as large a prize as the first
buyer, and that was satisfactory.
“Who'll take the next?” asked Paul, in a businesslike manner. “Maybe
there's ten cents in this package. That's where you double your money.
Walk up, gentlemen. Only five cents!”
Three more responded to this invitation, one drawing a prize of two
cents, the other two of one cent each. Just then, as it seemed doubtful
whether any more would be purchased by those present, a young man,
employed in a Wall street house, came out of the post office.
“What have you got here?” he asked, pausing.
“Prize packages of candy! Money prize in every package! Only five
cents!”
“Give me one, then. I never drew a prize in my life.”
The exchange was speedily made.
“I don't see any prize,” he said, opening it.
“It's on a bit of paper, mister,” said Teddy, nearly as much interested
as if it had been his own purchase.
“Oh, yes, I see. Well, I'm in luck. Ten cents!”
“Ten cents!” exclaimed several of the less fortunate buyers, with a
shade of envy.
“Here's your prize, mister,” said Paul, drawing out a ten-cent stamp
from his vest pocket.
“Well, Johnny, you do things on the square, that's a fact. Just keep the
ten cents, and give me two more packages.”
This Paul did with alacrity; but the Wall street clerk's luck was at an
end. He got two prizes of a penny each.
“Well,” he said, “I'm not much out of pocket. I've bought three
packages, and it's only cost me three cents.”
The ten-cent prize produced a favorable effect on the business of the
young peddler. Five more packages were bought, and the contents eagerly
inspected; but no other large prize appeared. Two cents was the maximum
prize drawn. Their curiosity being satisfied, the crowd dispersed;
but it was not long before another gathered. In fact, Paul had shown
excellent judgment in selecting the front of the post office as his
place of business. Hundreds passed in and out every hour, besides those
who passed by on a different destination. Thus many ears caught the
young peddler's cry--“Prize packages! Only five cents apiece!”--and
made a purchase; most from curiosity, but some few attracted by the
businesslike bearing of the young merchant, and willing to encourage
him in his efforts to make a living. These last, as well as some of the
former class, declined to accept the prizes, so that these were so much
gain to Paul.
At length but one package remained, and this Paul was some time getting
rid of. At last a gentleman came up, holding a little boy of seven by
the hand.
“Oh, buy me the package, papa?” he said, drawing his father's attention.
“What is there in it, boy?” asked the gentleman.
“Candy,” was the answer.
Alfred, for this was the little boy's name, renewed his entreaties,
having, like most boys, a taste for candy.
“There it is, Alfred,” said his father, handing the package to his
little son.
“There's a prize inside,” said Paul, seeing that they were about to
pass.
“We must look for the prize by all means,” said the gentleman. “What is
this? One cent?”
“Yes sir”; and Paul held out a cent to his customer.
“Never mind about that! You may keep the prize.”
“I want it, pa,” interposed Alfred, with his mouth full of candy.
“I'll give you another,” said his father, still declining to accept the
proffered prize.
Paul now found himself in the enviable position of one who, at eleven
o'clock, had succeeded in disposing of his entire stock in trade, and
that at an excellent profit, as we soon shall see. Business had been
more brisk with him than with many merchants on a larger scale, who
sometimes keep open their shops all day without taking in enough to pay
expenses. But, then, it is to be considered that in Paul's case expenses
were not a formidable item. He had no rent to pay, for one thing,
nor clerk hire, being competent to attend to his entire business
single-handed. All his expense, in fact, was the first cost of his stock
in trade, and he had so fixed his prices as to insure a good profit on
that. So, on the whole, Paul felt very well satisfied at the result
of his experiment, for this was his first day in the prize-package
business.
“I guess I'll go home,” he said to himself. “Mother'll want to know how
I made out.” He turned up Nassau street, and had reached the corner of
Maiden lane, when Teddy O'Brien met him.
“Did you sell out, Johnny?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered Paul.
“How many packages did you have?”
“Fifty.”
“That's bully. How much you made?”
“I can't tell yet. I haven't counted up,” said Paul.
“It's better'n sellin' papers, I'll bet. I've only made thirty cents the
day. Don't you want to take a partner, Johnny?”
“No, I don't think I do,” said Paul, who had good reason to doubt
whether such a step would be to his advantage.
“Then I'll go in for myself,” said Teddy, somewhat displeased at the
refusal.
“Go ahead! There's nobody to stop you,” said Paul.
“I'd rather go in with you,” said Teddy, feeling that there would be
some trouble in making the prize packages, but influenced still more by
the knowledge that he had not capital enough to start in the business
alone.
“No,” said Paul, positively; “I don't want any partner. I can do well
enough alone.”
He was not surprised at Teddy's application. Street boys are as
enterprising, and have as sharp eyes for business as their elders, and
no one among them can monopolize a profitable business long. This is
especially the case with the young street merchant. When one has had
the good luck to find some attractive article which promises to sell
briskly, he takes every care to hide the source of his supply from his
rivals in trade. But this is almost impossible. Cases are frequent where
such boys are subjected to the closest espionage, their steps being
dogged for hours by boys who think they have found a good thing and are
determined to share it. In the present case Paul had hit upon an idea
which seemed to promise well, and he was determined to keep it to
himself as long as possible. As soon as he was subjected to competition
and rivalry his gains would probably diminish.