Slow and Sure - The Story of Paul Hoffman the Young Street-Merchant
by Horatio Alger
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"Yes, sir."

"I suppose they have been in prison at different times?"

"Yes, sir, more'n half the time."

"What did you do then?"

"Worked for myself."

"What did you do?"

"Blacked boots or sold papers. When I got a chance I smashed baggage."

"Did you get paid for that?" asked Mr. Preston, with a smile.

"He means carried bundles or carpet-bags," explained Paul.

"I understand. Did these men ever want you to steal, or join them in burglary?"

"Sometimes. They was goin' to take me last night, but they was afraid I'd peach, and locked me up at home."

"I hope you have no desire to become a burglar?"

"No, sir; I want to be respectable, like Paul."

"You are right, there, my lad. Now, have you any plans for the future?"

"I'd like to go out West."

"Would you rather go there than remain in New York?"

"Yes, sir. He's here."

"Who is here?"

"Marlowe. He wasn't took. He'll murder me if he gets hold of me."

"Marlowe is one of the burglars, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir; he's the worst."

"I hope he will be taken. Probably he will find it hard to escape, as the police are on his track. But I don't know but you are right about going out West. Many boys like yourself have been sent out by the Children's Aid Society."

"I know some of 'em," said Julius.

"You will stand a better chance of succeeding there than here. I am willing to help you, if you wish to go out."

Mr. Preston took out his pocketbook, and drew therefrom a roll of bills.

"Here are fifty dollars," he said.

"For me?" asked Julius, in almost incredulous surprise.

"Yes, for you. I hope you will make a good use of it."

Julius selected a five-dollar bill, which he thrust into his vest pocket, and handed the remainder to Paul.

"Keep it for me, Paul," he said; "I might lose it."

"You have done well," said Mr. Preston, approvingly. "Until you leave the city, it will be best to leave the money in Paul's hands. Now, my lad, I must bid you good-morning, as business claims my attention. Try to lead a good life, and you have my best wishes for your welfare."

He offered his hand, which Julius took shyly.

The two boys went out, and again Marlowe followed them and tried to overhear what they said.

"Don't you feel rich, Julius?" he heard Paul say.

"He was very good to me," said Julius.

"Fifty dollars is a good deal of money for a boy like you."

"Fifty dollars!" said Marlowe to himself. "So the young dog got fifty dollars for selling Jack 'n' me? He thinks he's done a good thing. We'll see! we'll see!"

He instantly conceived the design of getting hold of this fifty dollars. As we know, he was almost penniless, and money he sorely needed to effect his escape from the city, where he was placed in hourly peril. To take it from Julius would give him more pleasure than to obtain it in any other way, for it would be combining revenge with personal profit. Not that this revenge would content him. His resentment was too deep and intense to be satisfied with any such retaliation. He wanted to make the boy suffer. He would hardly have shrunk from taking his life. He was, in fact, a worse man than Jack Morgan, for the latter was not naturally cruel, though, under temptation, he might be led to desperate acts.

"Now tell me what you want to do, Julius," said Paul.

"I want to go out West."

"You are rather young to travel alone. Besides, you don't know anything about the West, do you?"

Julius admitted that he did not. His education had been very much neglected. He probably could not have named half a dozen States, and had the vaguest idea of the West. He had heard it spoken of, and some boys whom he used to know about the streets had gone out there. But beyond that he knew nothing.

"How far do you think it is to the West?" asked Paul.

"About a hundred miles."

"It is all of that," said Paul, laughing. "Now I'll tell you what I would do if I were in your place."


"Were you ever in the Newsboys' Lodging House?"

"Lots of times."

"Then you know Mr. O'Connor, the superintendent?"

"Yes; he's very kind to us boys."

"Well, suppose we go round and ask him when the next company of boys starts for the West. You could go with them, and he will find you a place out there. What do you say?"

"I would like to do that," said Julius, with evident satisfaction.

"Then we will go up at once. I guess my business can wait a little longer."

"You're very kind to me," said Julius, gratefully. "You'll lose money goin' round with me so much."

"No matter for that. It won't ruin me. Besides, you've done me a great service. I ought to be willing to do something for you."

"That ain't nothin'."

"I think different. Come along; we'll settle this matter at once."

The two boys kept on their way till they reached the lodging house. All was quiet; for in the day-time the boys are scattered about the streets, earning their livelihood in different ways. Only at supper-time they come back, and in the evening the rooms are well filled. Paul had been here before, not as a guest, for he had always had a home of his own; but he had called in the evening at different times. Julius had often passed the night there, during the lengthened intervals of Jack's enforced residence in public institutions.

They met Mr. O'Connor just coming out.

"How do you do, Paul? I hope you're well, Julius," said the superintendent, who has a remarkable faculty for remembering the names and faces of the thousands of boys that from time to time frequent the lodging house. "Do you want to see me?"

"Yes, sir," answered Paul; "but we won't detain you long."

"Never mind about that; my business can wait."

"Julius wants to go out West," proceeded Paul. "Now, what we want to find out is, when you are going to send a party out."

"This day week."

"Who is going out with it?"

"It is not quite decided. I may go myself," said the superintendent.

"Can Julius go out with you?"

"Yes; we haven't got our full number. He can go."

"Then you're all right, Julius," said Paul.

"What gave you the idea of going out West, Julius?" asked Mr. O'Connor.

"Marlowe's after me," said Julius, briefly.

The superintendent looked mystified, and Paul explained.

"Didn't you read in the papers," he asked, "about the burglary on Madison avenue?"

"At Mr. Talbot's house?"


"Had Julius anything to do with that?"

"Through his means the burglars were prevented from carrying out their designs, and one of them was captured. This was Jack Morgan, with whom Julius lived. The other, a man named Marlowe, got off. As he suspected Julius beforehand of betraying them, and is a man of revengeful disposition, Julius is afraid of staying in the city while he is at large. We both think he had better go West. There he may have a chance of doing well."

"No doubt. Why, some of our boys who have gone out there have grown rich. Others have persevered in seeking an education, and there are lawyers, ministers and doctors, as well as merchants, now prosperous and respected, who graduated from the streets of New York, and were sent out by our society."

The face of Julius brightened as he heard these words.

"I hope I'll do well," he said.

"It depends a good deal on yourself, my boy," said the superintendent, kindly. "Firmly resolve to do well, and you will very likely succeed. You've had a rough time of it so far, and circumstances have been against you; but I'll try to find a good place for you, where you'll have a chance to learn something and to improve. Then it will be your own fault if you don't rise to a respectable place in society."

"I'll try," said Julius, hopefully, and he meant what he said. He had lived among social outlaws all his life, and he realized the disadvantages of such a career. He shuddered at the idea of following in the steps of Jack Morgan or Marlowe—a considerable portion of whose time was spent in confinement. He wanted to be like Paul, for whom he felt both respect and attachment, and the superintendent's words encouraged and made him ambitious.



On emerging into the street the two boys parted company. It was time for Paul to go back to his business. Julius was more indifferent to employment. He had five dollars in his pocket, and forty-five dollars deposited with Paul. Accustomed to live from hand to mouth, this made him feel very rich. It was a bright, pleasant day, and it occurred to him that it would be very pleasant to make an excursion somewhere, it made little difference to him where. The first place that occurred to him was Staten Island. It is six miles from the city or half an hour by water. The boats start from a pier near the Battery.

"Where's he going, I wonder?" thought Marlowe, following at a little distance.

As no conversation had passed between the boys about the excursion, he was quite in the dark; but he was determined to follow where-ever it might be. He soon ascertained. Julius met a street acquaintance—Tom Barker, a newsboy—and accosted him.

"Tom, come with me."

"Where you goin'?"

"To Staten Island."

"What's up?"

"Nothin'. I'm goin' for the benefit of my health. Come along."

"I can't come."

"Haven't you got the stamps? I'll pay."

"I've got to go to Twenty-seventh street on an errand. I'll go with you to-morrow."

"Can't wait," said Julius. "I must go alone."

"Goin' to Staten Island," thought Marlowe, in exultation. "I'll get a chance at him there."

Marlowe had not much money with him, but he had enough to pay the fare to Staten Island—ten cents. So he kept on the track of Julius, and passed the wicket just behind him. The boat was approaching the pier, and they had not long to wait. Julius went to the forward part of the boat, and took a seat just in front of the boiler. Marlowe took a position near, but not too near. He had considerable confidence in his disguise, but did not want to run any unnecessary risk of recognition. It so happened that a few steps from him was a genuine specimen of the profession he was counterfeiting. With the sociability characteristic of a sailor, he undertook to open a conversation with Marlowe.

"Hollo, shipmate!" he said.

"Hollo, yourself!" said the counterfeit, not over pleased with the salutation.

"I thought I'd hail you, seein' we both foller the sea. Have you been long ashore?"

"Not long," answered Marlowe.

"Where was your last v'y'ge?"

"To Californy," answered Marlowe, hesitating.

"What craft?"

Here was an embarrassing question. Marlowe wished his questioner at the North Pole, but felt compelled to answer.

"The—Sally Ann," he answered.

"You don't say!" said the other, with animation. "I was aboard the Sally Ann myself, one v'y'ge."

"Confound you, I'm sorry to hear it!" thought the impostor.

"There's more than one Sally Ann, it's likely," he said. "Who was your captain?"

"Captain Rice."

"Mine was Captain Talbot."

"How long was your v'y'ge, shipmate?"

Now Marlowe had no knowledge of the number of days such a voyage ought to take. He knew that the California steamers came in in three or four weeks, and the difference of speed did not occur to him, not to speak of the vastly greater distance round Cape Horn.

"Thirty days," he answered, at random.

"Thirty days!" exclaimed the sailor, in amazement. "Did you go round the Horn in thirty days?"

"Yes, we had favorable winds," explained Marlowe.

"He must be crazy, or he's no sailor," thought the true son of Neptune.

He was about to ask another question, when Marlowe, who suspected that he had made a blunder, turned abruptly, and walked away.

"He ain't no sailor," said the questioner to himself. "He never lived in the forecastle, I know by his walk."

Marlowe had not the rolling gait of a seaman, and the other detected it at once.

"Went round the Horn in thirty days!" soliloquized the sailor. "That yarn's too tough for me to swallow. What's he got on that rig for?"

Meanwhile, Julius looked around him with enjoyment. Cheap as the excursion was, he had but once made it before. It had been seldom that he had even twenty cents to spare, and when he had money, he had preferred to go to the Old Bowery or Tony Pastor's for an evening's entertainment. Now he felt the refreshing influence of the sea breeze. He was safe from Marlowe, so he thought. He had left danger behind him in the great, dusty city. Before him was a vision of green fields, and the delight of an afternoon without work and without care. He was sure of a good supper and a comfortable bed; for had he not five dollars in his pocket? Julius felt as rich as Stewart or Vanderbilt, and so he was for the time being. But he would have felt anxious, could he have seen the baleful glance of the disguised sailor; for Marlowe, though he had changed his seat, still managed to keep Julius in sight. But there was another who in turn watched him, and that was the genuine sailor. The latter was bent on finding out the meaning of the disguise, for disguise he knew it to be. He was not long in discovering that Marlowe was watching Julius with a malignant glance.

"He hates the lad," thought the sailor. "Does he mean him harm?"

He was making an excursion of pleasure, but he had another object in view. He had a cousin living on Staten Island, and he was intending to make him a call; but this business was not imperative, and he resolved to follow out the present adventure.

"If he tries to harm the lad," said the kindhearted sailor, "he'll have to take me too."

So while Marlowe watched Julius, he was watched in turn.

The boat reached the first landing, and some of the passengers got off. But Julius made no motion to disembark, and of course Marlowe did not. Shortly afterward the second landing was reached; but it was not until the boat touched the third that Julius rose from his seat and descended the stairs to the lower deck. The two sailors followed.

Julius walked up the road that leads to the pier. He had no particular destination. He cared little where he went, his main object being to get back into the country. The sailor soon perceived that Marlowe had no object except to follow Julius. All his movements depended upon the boy's. When Julius turned, he turned also.

"What has he got ag'in the boy?" thought the sailor. "He shan't harm him if Jack Halyard can prevent it."

Marlowe was tall and strong, and a formidable opponent. The sailor was three inches shorter, but he was broad-shouldered, and had an immense chest. It was clear that he was very powerful. He was thoroughly brave also. Fear was a stranger to him, and he did not hesitate for a moment to encounter Marlowe in the boy's defense.

Julius kept on. At one place he stopped to watch two boys who were pitching ball to each other. He asked them if he might join in the game; but the boys looked contemptuously at his shabby clothes, and one of them said, rudely:

"We don't play with ragamuffins."

"I ain't a ragamuffin!" said Julius.

"Perhaps you're a gentleman in disguise," said one, with a sneer.

"I'm as much of a gentleman as you are," retorted Julius, angrily.

"Clear out, you beggar! We don't want you here," said the second boy, arrogantly.

Julius walked on indignantly.

"They insult me because I am poor," he said to himself. "I'll be rich some time, perhaps."

The possibility of becoming rich had never occurred to him before to-day; but Mr. O'Connor's words, and the fifty dollars which had been given him, made him hopeful and ambitious. He had heard that some of the rich men who owned warehouses in the great city had once been poor boys like himself. Might he not rise like them? For the first time in his life he seemed to be having a chance.

Marlowe saw him leave the boys with satisfaction. Had Julius stopped to play with them his scheme of vengeance would have been delayed, perhaps frustrated. It would not do for him to attack the boy in the presence of others. But Julius w r as walking away from the village into the interior. If he only went far enough he would be at his mercy.

What should he do to him? He might kill him, but killing is rather a dangerous game to play at in a civilized community.

"I'll take his money," thought Marlowe, "and beat him within an inch of his life. I'll teach him to betray me!"

At length Julius wandered to a spot solitary enough to suit his purpose. Strange to say, the boy had not turned, or noticed his pursuer. Marlowe was quite out of his thoughts. Who would think of finding him in this quiet scene? But he was destined to be rudely awakened from his dream of security. All at once he felt a hand upon his shoulder. Turning quickly, he saw one whom he supposed to be a sailor.

"What's wanted?" he asked.

"You're wanted."

"What for?" asked Julius, not yet recognizing his enemy.

"Don't you know me?" asked Marlowe.


"But I know you, you young villain!" exclaimed Marlowe, unable longer to repress his fury. "I'm the man you sold along with Jack Morgan. I've got a reckoning with you, my lad, and it's goin' to be a heavy one. I haven't followed you all the way from New York for nothing."



Julius was filled with a terrible fear, when in the man who stood over him menacingly he recognized Tom Marlowe. He knew the man's brutal disposition, and that he was very much incensed against him. He looked wildly around him for help, but he could see no one. The sailor had hidden behind a large tree, and was not visible.

"You're looking for help, are you?" sneered Marlowe. "Look all you want to. You're in my power. Now tell me, you treacherous young dog, why shouldn't I kill you?"

Julius regarded him in silent terror.

"You didn't think I'd get away from the cops you set on my track, did you? You thought you'd get rid of me, did you? Where's that money you got for selling us, eh?"

"I didn't sell you," said Julius, trembling.

"Don't lie to me. I know all about it. I followed you when you went with that boy that keeps the necktie stand. I know how much you got. It was fifty dollars."

Julius was bewildered. He did not understand how Marlowe could have gained this information.

"Do you deny this?" demanded Marlowe.

"I didn't know I was to get any money," stammered Julius. "I wouldn't have told of you, but Paul had been kind to me."

"So you forgot all about Jack Morgan and me. You were ready to sell your best friends. But you didn't count the cost, my chicken! We generally pay up for such favors. I promised Jack I'd settle our account, and I'm goin' to do it."

"Is Jack took?" asked Julius, shrinking under the man's fierce glance.

"Yes, he is, curse you! If it hadn't been for your blabbing tongue we'd both have got off with the swag. Now hand over that money, and be quick about it."

"What money?" faltered Julius.

"You know well enough—the fifty dollars."

Julius felt thankful now that he had deposited the greater part with Paul.

"I haven't got it."

"You lie!" exclaimed Marlowe, brutally.

"I gave it to Paul, all except five dollars." "I don't believe you. Empty your pockets."

Julius did so, but only five dollars were found. Marlowe was badly disappointed. Fifty dollars would have been of essential service to him, and they had dwindled to five.

"What business had you to give the money to him?" he demanded, harshly.

"I was afraid I might lose it."

"Give me the five dollars."

Julius reluctantly handed the bill to his enemy, who thrust it into his pocket.

"Now," said he, seizing Julius by the shoulder with a dark and menacing look, "I'll give you a lesson you'll remember to the last day of your life."

He threw Julius upon the ground, and was about savagely to kick the helpless boy, who would in all probability have died from the brutal treatment he was likely to receive, when he was seized by the collar, and sent whirling backward by a powerful hand.

"Avast there, you lubber!" said the sailor, who had felt it time to interfere. "What are you about?"

Marlowe turned furiously upon his unexpected assailant.

"I'll soon let you know, if you don't leave here pretty sudden. What business is it of yours?" he said, furiously.

"It's always my business," said the sailor, manfully, "when I see a big brute pitching into a youngster like that. I ain't the man to stand by and see it done."

"He wants to kill me. Don't let him," implored Julius.

"That I won't, my lad. He'll have to kill me, too, if that's what he's after. He'll find me a tough customer, I reckon."

"This is my boy. I shall beat him as I please," said Marlowe, angrily.

"I am not his boy," said Julius, fearing the sailor would credit the statement.

"Don't you be afraid, my lad. If you were his boy ten times over, he shouldn't beat you while I am by."

Marlowe was terribly enraged. He saw his victim slipping from his grasp just as he was about to glut his vengeance upon him. He was a man of violent passions, and they got the better of his prudence.

"Stand back!" he shouted, advancing toward the intrepid sailor, "or I will serve you and the boy alike."

"I'm ready," said the other, coolly, squaring off scientifically.

Marlowe aimed a heavy blow at his head, which, had it taken effect, would have prostrated and perhaps stunned him. But it was warded off, and a counter blow returned, which took better effect. Marlowe staggered under it, but it only maddened him. Half-blinded, he rushed once more upon his opponent, but received a well-directed blow full in the chest, which stretched him at the sailor's feet. The latter forbore to take an unmanly advantage of his foe's position, but calmly waited for him to rise.

"Do you want more?" he asked, coolly.

Marlowe, had he been wise, would have desisted, but he was filled with a blind, unreasoning rage, and advanced again to the attack. But he was no match for the stout sailor. He fared this time no better than before, but again was stretched at the sailor's feet.

By this time the conflict had attracted attention. Several men came running up, among them a member of the local police.

"What's the meaning of all this?" demanded the latter.

"Ask the boy," said the sailor.

Julius, thus appealed to, answered:

"That man wanted to kill me, but the sailor stopped him."

"It's a lie!" growled Marlowe. "He's my boy, and I was punishing him."

"Are you his boy?" asked the policeman, turning to Julius.


"Where do you live?"

"In New York."

"Do you know him?"


"Who is he?"

Marlowe saw that it was getting dangerous for him, and was anxious to get away.

"The boy may shift for himself," he said. "If you take so much interest in him you can take care of him."

These last words were addressed to the sailor.

He turned on his heel, and hoped to get away without further trouble.

"Stop, there!" said the officer. "We haven't done with you yet."

"What do you want?" demanded Marlowe, endeavoring to conceal his alarm under an air of surly bravado.

"I want to know who you are."

"I'm a sailor."

"Then you're a land sailor," retorted the true son of Neptune.

"Is he a sailor?" asked the officer of Julius.

"No, sir."

"What is his name?"

"His name is Marlowe," answered Julius, in spite of the black and menacing looks of his enemy, intended to intimidate him.

"Marlowe? The man implicated in the burglary in Madison avenue?"

Julius was not required to answer this, for at the question, showing that he was known, Marlowe with an oath took to flight, closely pursued by all present. He had run half a mile before he was secured. But his pursuers at length caught up with him, and after a sharp struggle, in which they were materially assisted by the powerful sailor, he was taken and bound.

"If I ever get free, I'll kill you!" he muttered, between his teeth, to Julius. "You'll rue this day's work."

Julius, secure as he was at present, could not help shuddering as he heard these threatening words. But he felt thankful that he had escaped the present danger. The peril was over for the time; but Julius could not help feeling that he was not wholly safe as long as Marlowe was at large. I may as well add here that the burglar was delivered to the New York authorities, and in due time had his trial, was convicted and sentenced to ten years' imprisonment in the prison at Sing Sing.

This adventure, and the excitement attending it, spoiled the enjoyment of Julius for the afternoon. He returned to the pier and took passage on the boat bound for the city. He called on Paul at his stand, and surprised him with the news of Marlowe's capture, and his own narrow escape.

"I am glad to hear it, Julius," said Paul. "So that sailor that followed you was Marlowe."

"Yes. Did you see him?"

"I noticed him two or three times, but had no idea he was following us."

"I never should have known him, he looked so different." "He might have got away if he hadn't been so anxious to revenge himself on you."

"He's got my five dollars," said Julius, regretfully.

"It might have been much worse. You've got forty-five dollars left yet. Do you want any of it?"

"You may give me five more."

Paul drew a five-dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to Julius.

"By the way, Julius," he said "where do you expect to sleep to-night?"

"In the lodgin' house."

"Come up and stop with me. We can find room for you. Besides, my mother will give you a good supper."

"You are very kind to me, Paul," said Julius, gratefully.

"I ought to be. You did us all a great service. You must stay with us till it is time for you to go out West."

Julius made some faint objections, out of bashfulness; but he was so pleasantly received by Mrs. Hoffman, and treated with so much kindness, that he came to feel quite at home, and needed no urging after the first night. Jimmy asked him a multitude of questions about the burglars, how they looked and how they lived, to which Julius answered patiently.

"When you are out West, you must write to us how you are getting along, Julius," said Mrs. Hoffman, kindly.

Julius blushed, and did not answer. He seemed much embarrassed.

"Won't you?" asked Jimmy.

"I don't know how to write!" said Julius at last, feeling suddenly ashamed of his ignorance.

"Such a big boy as you can't write?" said Jimmy, in amazement.

"There is plenty of time to learn," said Paul, cheerfully. "Julius has had no chance to learn yet, but after he gets to the West he will make it up."

The mortification which Julius felt at his ignorance made him determine to study hard whenever he could. He felt that if he wanted to occupy a respectable position in society, he must, at least, know how to read and write.



A week later Julius started for the West with a company of boys who went out under the auspices of the Children's Aid Society. His adventures out West will make the subject of another volume.

On the day succeeding his departure Paul was at his stand, when his attention was drawn to a man of respectable appearance, but poorly clad, and thin and emaciated, who, after a little hesitation, accosted a gentleman who was passing, in these words: "Sir, I hope you will excuse my liberty in addressing you, but I have been sick, and am without money. Can you spare me a trifle?"

"I never give to street beggars," said the gentleman, coldly.

The applicant shrank back abashed, and a look of pain and mortification overspread his features. Paul noticed it, and his heart was filled with compassion. He saw that the man was not a common street beggar; that, except under the pressure of necessity, he would not have asked help. Stepping up to him as he was slowly moving away, Paul said, gently: "Can I assist you in any way, sir?"

The other turned at the words.

"I am in great need of help," he said. "I am without money, and I have a little daughter at home who wants bread."

As he said this he came near breaking down.

"Let me help you," said Paul; and he drew a dollar from his pocket and passed it to the applicant.

"A thousand thanks for your generous kindness!" said the stranger, gratefully; "but"—and here he glanced at Paul's humble place of business—"can you spare this money?"

"Easily," said Paul. "I am doing very well, and saving up money every week."

"Then I will accept it. There are some kind hearts in the world. I felt very much depressed by the refusal I just received. It was a great sacrifice of pride for me to ask help of any one, but the thought of my little daughter removed all my scruples. I could bear privation and hunger myself, but I could not bear to see her suffer."

"Where do you live?" asked Paul.

"In Centre street. It is a miserable place, but all I can afford."

"May I ask your business?"

"I am an artist. I came from England, my native country, some months since, hoping to better my fortune here. But I fell sick in a short time, and continued so until a week since."

"You are not looking well."

"I have overcome my disease, but I need nourishing food, and I have not been able to buy it."

"How did you pay your expenses while you were sick?"

"I brought over with me a small sum of money, and by great economy I made it last till a week since. I am unknown, and, though I have two pictures finished, I cannot sell them. I was told that America was a good country for the poor; but I do not find it so for me."

"It may be, after you are known."

"But what shall I do in the meantime?"

Here an idea came to Paul. He had long intended to obtain a teacher of drawing for Jimmy. It would be a charity to employ this poor artist if he were competent.

"Did you ever give lessons in drawing?" he asked.

"Yes; I gave lessons in England. I would gladly find scholars here, but I am not known."

"I have a little brother who has a great taste for drawing," said Paul. "You may begin with him."

"Thank you," said the stranger, warmly. "You give me new hope. I will teach him gladly, and leave the price of the lessons to you."

"If you will tell me where you live I will call there at noon. You will want to buy some food for your little girl."

"Yes, poor little Mary, I must not leave her waiting any longer. I shall be very glad to see you at my poor room. It is No. — Centre street, back room, third floor. Ask for Mr. Henderson."

"I will be sure to call."

The artist made his way to a baker's where he bought a loaf of bread. Also at a shop near by he obtained a pint of milk, and, provided with these, he hastened home to his hungry child.

At noon, after taking lunch, Paul found his way to the address given him by the artist. The room was dark and scantily furnished. Mr. Henderson sat before an easel, trying to work. He got up hastily as Paul entered.

"I am glad to see you, my good young friend," he said. "Take a seat."

"Is this your little daughter?" asked Paul.

"Come here, Mary, and speak to the gentleman," said her father.

Mary Henderson was a delicate looking little girl of eight years, with dark hair and eyes. She would have been pretty if she had been stronger and more healthy. A few weeks of good food and country air would bring back the roses to her cheeks, and fill out her emaciated form.

"Have you any pictures finished?" asked Paul.

"I have two small ones. Would you like to see them?"

"Very much."

The artist went to a closet, and produced two small pictures unframed. One was an English country landscape, pretty in design, and executed, as Paul thought, with taste.

"I like that," he said.

"The other is better," said Mr. Henderson.

He exhibited the other canvas. It was a simple sketch of a brother and sister on their way to school. The faces were bright and pretty, the attitudes natural and graceful, and all the details were well carried out.

"You are right," said Paul. "This is the best picture. The girl's face looks familiar. It is your own little girl, is it not?"

"Then you see the resemblance?"

"Yes, it is very like, but——"

"But it represents a blooming, healthful child, while my poor Mary is thin and pale. Yet when the picture was painted, before I left England, it was an exact likeness. You see what privation and the bad air of the city have done for her."

"She will look like it again. A few weeks will bring her back."

"I hope so."

"You ought to get a good price for these pictures, Mr. Henderson."

"If I had a name, I could."

"If you are willing to trust me with them, I will see what I can do for you."

"Thank you a thousand times."

"I may not be able to sell them, but I will try. Have you set a price on them?"

"No; I will sell them for anything they will fetch—for five dollars even, if no more can be obtained."

"I hope to get more."

"Mary, wrap up the pictures for the gentleman," said her father.

The little girl did so.

"If you can call on me this evening at half-past seven, Mr. Henderson," said Paul, "I will make arrangements about your giving lessons to my little brother."

"I will certainly do so."

"You will not be afraid to leave your little girl alone?"

"She can stay with a neighbor."

"Then I will expect you."

Paul wrote down his address, and took his leave, with the pictures under his arm.

He had thought of a customer. He knew that Mr. Preston was not only rich, but kindhearted and charitable. Even if he did not want the pictures, he thought he would be willing to give a small sum for them; and even a little would be of great service to the poverty-stricken artist.

He therefore made his way to Mr. Preston's counting-room, and was admitted to his presence.

"Are you busy, Mr. Preston?" asked our hero.

"Not particularly. I can spare you a few minutes."

He looked inquiringly at the parcel Paul carried under his arm.

"I have come to sell you some pictures, Mr. Preston."

"You haven't turned artist?" said the merchant, surprised.

"No; but I am acting as agent for a poor artist, who is in great need of money."

"A poor artist in both senses of the word, eh, Paul?"

"No, I think not. I am not a judge of pictures, but these seem to me very good."

"Let me see them."

Paul unrolled the bundle and displayed them. Mr. Preston took them in his hands, and examined them with interest.

"They are good pictures," he said, after a pause. "Who is the artist?"

"An Englishman named Henderson. I will tell you all I know of his story. He has been very unfortunate, and is now in pressing need of assistance."

Mr. Preston listened to the story with which the reader is already familiar. When it was concluded he said, "We must help him."

"I am going to take him as teacher for my little brother Jimmy."

"I will purchase the picture of the children for fifty dollars."

"It will be a fortune to the poor man," said Paul, joyfully.

"When shall you see him?"


"Then I will give you the money to hand to him. Besides, I will give him a note to Goupil, who will allow him to exhibit the other picture in his store. That may secure its sale."

"Thank you, Mr. Preston. You will do him a great kindness."

Paul left the picture of which he had disposed, and, taking the other under his arm, went back to the necktie stand. He felt an honest pleasure in the thought of the happiness he was about to confer upon the poor artist. "It will set him on his feet," he thought.



"Jimmy," said Paul, on reaching home, "there is a gentleman coming to see you this evening."

"A gentleman—to see me?" repeated the little boy, in surprise.

"Yes. Mr. Henderson."

"But I don't know him."

"You will know him very soon. He is an artist, and is going to give you lessons."

"How good you are, Paul!" said Jimmy, joyfully; "but," he added, considerately, "won't you have to pay him a good deal?"

"No; he is a poor man, and it is partly to help him that I have engaged him to give you lessons. I expect him in an hour. So get out your best drawings, so that he will see how far you are advanced."

"Does he paint pictures? I should like to see some of them."

"I have one with me."

"Oh, let me see it!"

Paul removed the paper from the painting he had brought with him, and displayed it to his little brother.

"It is beautiful, Paul. I wonder if I can ever paint such a nice picture."

"No doubt you can, if you study faithfully. I brought away another of Mr. Henderson's pictures, which I like better than this, but I have sold it to Mr. Preston."

"How much did you get for it?"

"Fifty dollars."

"Isn't that a large price?" asked Mrs. Hoffman.

"Not for a good picture. I dare say Jimmy will by and by be charging as much as that for a picture."

"I hope so, Paul. I would like to earn some money."

"You are too young to earn money now, Jimmy. That will come in good time."

Soon after the supper table was cleared Mr. Henderson called.

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Henderson," said Paul, cordially. "This is my mother, Mrs. Hoffman, and here is the young scholar I told you of."

Jimmy looked up shyly.

"He has seen your picture and likes it. By the way, I have sold one of your pictures—the one introducing the children."

"Thank you for your kindness," said the artist, his face brightening. "You have done what I could not do, and it will give me very welcome aid."

"I hope the price will be satisfactory," said Paul.

"I did not expect much," said Mr. Henderson, who inferred that the price obtained was small. "I am unknown, and I have no right to expect much for my work."

"I sold it to a friend of mine for fifty dollars," continued Paul.

"Fifty dollars!" exclaimed the poor artist, hardly crediting the testimony of his ears.

"Yes," said Paul, enjoying his surprise. "Is it satisfactory?"

"Satisfactory! It is ten times as much as I expected. How can I ever thank you?" said Mr. Henderson, seizing Paul's hand in his fervent gratitude.

"The purchaser is rich, and he has promised to speak a word to Goupil in your favor."

"Heaven sent you to my help," said the artist. "What a change has a single day wrought! This morning I woke without a penny, and my poor child without bread. To-night I am rich, and Hope has once more visited me. I owe all my good fortune to you. Will you permit me to give lessons to your brother without charge?"

"No," said Paul, decidedly. "I think every one ought to be paid for their work. What I have done for you has given me very little trouble. I am glad that I could help you. I know what it is to be poor, and most people would call me poor now; but I can earn enough for our expenses, and lay up something besides, so I do not feel poor. Now, Jimmy, go and bring your drawings, and show the gentleman."

The drawings were brought, and, to Jimmy's delight, elicited warm approval from the artist.

"Your brother has great talent," said he. "I shall be very glad to have him for a pupil. It is much pleasanter to teach where the scholar has taste and talent. When would you like the lessons to begin?"

"As soon as possible. To-morrow, if you can come."

"And at what time?"

"At any time. I suppose the day would be better."

"Yes, it would be better, on account of the light. Besides, I like to be with my little daughter in the evening."

"Have you a little daughter?" asked Mrs. Hoffman.

"Yes, madam. She must be nearly the age of my young pupil here."

"Bring her with you at any time," said motherly Mrs. Hoffman. "I shall be glad to have her come."

"If she would not be in the way."

"Not at all. We have plenty of room, and Jimmy has no playmate. We shall be very glad to see her."

"Mary will enjoy coming," said her father. "I appreciate your kindness in inviting her."

"By the way, Mr. Henderson," suggested Paul, "why don't you move into the upper part of the city? It will be more convenient for you, especially if you get other pupils."

"It is a good plan," said the artist. "I could not do so before, because I had no money. Now, thanks to your kindness, I can do so."

It was arranged that Jimmy should take two lessons a week, for which Paul agreed to pay a dollar each. The sum was small, but to Mr. Henderson it was an important help. I will anticipate the future so far as to say that, after a while, through the persistent efforts of Paul, aided by Mr. Preston, he obtained three other pupils, from whom he was able to obtain a higher price, and occasionally he effected the sale of a picture, so that he was able to occupy more comfortable rooms, and provide himself with better clothing. The days of his adversity were over, and he now enjoyed a moderate degree of prosperity. Little Mary regained her lost flesh and color, and once more looked as she did when she sat for the figure of the girl in her father's picture, which Paul had sold to Mr. Preston. She came often with her father, when he was to give a lesson to Jimmy, and sometimes Mrs. Hoffman called to invite her to accompany Jimmy and herself to Central Park.

As to Jimmy, he surprised his teacher by the rapid progress which he made. He would have devoted all his time to drawing if his mother had permitted, but she was not willing that he should neglect his school studies—for Jimmy now attended school. His health, too, had improved, and he no longer looked weak and delicate.

So several months passed away. Paul's business continued good. It did not increase much, for there was not an opportunity for that. But he averaged fifteen dollars a week profit, and that, he justly felt, was a very good income from such a limited business. Mrs. Hoffman continued to make ties for Paul, so she, too, earned three or four dollars a week, and as they had no house rent to pay, they were able not only to live very comfortably, paying all the bills promptly, but to save up money besides. In addition to the money in Mr. Preston's hands, Paul had an account at a downtown savings-bank, which already amounted to over two hundred dollars.

"We must save money now, mother," said Paul; "for Mr. Talbot will be coming home by and by, and then we shall have to look up other rooms, and pay rent."

"Do you know when he means to come home? Has Mr. Preston told you?"

"No, mother. I think I will call round in the morning and inquire. He has already been away more than a year."

When Paul entered Mr. Preston's counting-room the next morning that gentleman looked up from his desk, and said, "I was just about to write you a letter, Paul."

"Indeed, sir."

"Yes; I am in receipt of a letter from Mr. Talbot, in which he announces his immediate return home. He will be here in four weeks, and he desires your mother to engage women to clean the house thoroughly, and put it in order for his occupation. Of course, you will keep an account of all you have to expend in this way, and you can hand me the bill."

"Yes, sir. I will see that it is done."

Paul heard, with some regret, of Mr. Talbot's speedy return. It would curtail his income considerably. Still he felt that Mr. Talbot would be satisfied with the manner in which his mother and himself had acquitted themselves of their trust, and that was a source of satisfaction.

He gave his mother immediate notice of the approaching return of Mr. Talbot, and she began to look about for rooms to which to remove. At length she found a very comfortable place at twenty dollars a month. Half that sum would have obtained them shelter in a poor tenement house, but both Paul and his mother had become fastidious, and felt that such economy would be out of place. They must have a respectable and comfortable home, even if they were prevented thereby from adding so much to their account at the savings-bank.

At length the steamer in which the Talbots had taken passage arrived. A coach brought them from the pier to the house. Mrs. Hoffman and Paul were in waiting to receive them. Mrs. Talbot expressed herself pleased with the neat appearance of the house, and Mr. Talbot called Paul aside.

"My young friend," he said, "I deferred, till my return home, the acknowledgment of your very creditable conduct in the defense of my house. You showed a coolness and good judgment remarkable in one of your age. In return for this, and in acknowledgment of the generally satisfactory manner in which you and your mother have kept my house, I ask your acceptance of this pocketbook, with its contents."

When Paul opened it he was astonished and delighted to find that it contained two one-hundred dollar bills.

"One of them properly belongs to you, mother," he said. But Mrs. Hoffman refused to take it.

"No, Paul," she said, "you are the treasurer of our little household. Take this money and add to your savings. Some time you will find it useful in enlarging your business, or entering upon a new one."

"I will put it in the savings-bank, as you recommend, mother; but you must remember that the fund there is yours as much as mine."

"I will promise to call for money, Paul, whenever I want it. I like to think that we have so large a fund to draw upon in case of need."



One morning, some months later, Paul was looking over the advertising columns of the Herald. As his eye glanced carelessly over the Chances for Business, his attention was drawn to the following:

"FOR SALE The stock and fixtures of a gentlemen's small furnishing store. Good reasons for selling. Apply at No. — Sixth avenue."

"I wonder how much it would cost," thought Paul. "I wish I had a small store instead of a stand. I could make more money. Besides, it would be more comfortable in cold and stormy weather."

It was a raw morning in November. Paul had his hands in his pockets, and had much ado to keep warm. But he knew that worse days were to come. The winter before he had suffered not a little on some days when he felt the necessity of keeping at his business.

"Let me see," he reflected. "I have about six hundred dollars. That is something, but it wouldn't go far toward stocking a store. Still, I have a great mind to go up and look at the place, and inquire about terms."

The more Paul thought about it, the more he felt a desire to go. He accordingly got a boy, in whom he felt confidence, to attend his stand, while he himself jumped on a Sixth avenue car and rode up to the shop advertised.

On entering he found it small, but neat, and to all appearance a good stand for business. The proprietor, a man of thirty-five or thereabouts, came forward.

"What can I show you?" he asked.

"I saw your advertisement in the Herald," said Paul, "and came to inquire about it. You want to sell out?"

"Yes. It is on account of my wife's health. The doctor says the city air doesn't agree with her, and orders her into the country. I don't want to be separated from her, and, besides, I have a chance to open a store in a country town where my uncle lives."

"Is this a good stand for business?"

"Excellent. I am making more money here than I can expect to outside of the city; but of course that is not to be put in the scale against my wife's health. Were you thinking of going into the business?"

"I should like to, but I have not much capital. At what price do you value your stock?"

"At two thousand dollars."

"That is more money than I have got."

"I'll tell you what I will do. If you will give me a thousand dollars down, and give me good security for the balance, payable a year hence, I will sell out to you."

"What is the rent?"

"A thousand dollars."

"Isn't that a good deal?"

"In proportion to the value of my stock, it is, but I keep turning it over. Last year, after paying rent and all expenses, including wages to a boy of seventeen, who assisted me, I cleared two thousand dollars."

To Paul this seemed considerable. It would be a great improvement upon his present position, and he would enjoy much more being the owner of a store than of a street stand. But where would he get the money?

"Couldn't you take less than a thousand dollars down?" he asked.

The man shook his head.

"I need that amount at once," he said. "You had better accept my terms. You can't do better. Can't you raise the money somewhere?"

"I will see," said Paul.

He had thought of Mr. Preston. He knew that Mr. Preston was his friend, and that he was fully able to assist him. He would go and see him, and consult him about the matter, not directly asking him for help, but giving him an opportunity to offer.

"I will come back to-morrow and give you my answer," he said.

"Come to-night, if you can."

"Very well, I will, if possible."

Paul was fortunate enough to find Mr. Preston in.

"Good-morning, Paul," said the merchant, pleasantly; "what can I do for you this morning?"

"I want to consult you on a matter of business, Mr. Preston."

"I shall be glad to advise you as well as I can."

Hereupon Paul explained the matter, first displaying the advertisement.

"Do you think the shop favorably situated for business?" asked Mr. Preston.

"Yes, sir."

"Is it pretty well stocked?"

"Yes, sir. If I had it I might want to increase the stock a little."

"So the man asks a thousand dollars cash?"

"Yes, sir."

"How much money have you?"

"Six hundred."

"Well, Paul, I think favorably of your plan. If you want to take the shop, I will lend you the money you need, and stand security for the remainder."

"Thank you, sir," said Paul, joyfully.

"Wait a minute till you hear my conditions. This is strictly a business arrangement between us. I expect you to pay me interest at the legal rate, and to pay it punctually as it falls due. You understand that?"

"Yes, sir, that is only fair."

"As you say, it is only fair, yet borrowers are apt to forget it. They will make all sorts of promises when they want to borrow, and break them afterward. Even honest men will think it is enough to pay interest whenever it is convenient, forgetting that by their neglect they are injuring their credit. Some years since I helped two former clerks to establish themselves in business. Both were honest; but while one was prompt in all his engagements, and waited upon me on the very day the interest came due with the money ready, the other obliged me to send for it, and then put me off on every occasion, though he paid finally. The result was, that after a while I assisted the first cheerfully to extend his business. The second, hearing of it, made a similar application, which I promptly refused. Do you wonder at it?"

"Not at all, sir. I think you were perfectly right."

"Be prompt in all your engagements. That is a good rule in business, and in everything else. I have confidence in your integrity, and shall be very glad to assist you. Go and finish your negotiation, and when you want the money come to me."

"Thank you, sir, not only for your kind offer, but for your advice."

"He is going to succeed," said the merchant, as Paul went out. "He will some day be a prosperous man."

The merchant was pleased at the respect with which his advice was received. Young America is very apt to regard the counsel of the old and experienced as of slight value; but in this they make a great mistake. There are plenty of young men, who, from their own self-sufficiency and impatience of good advice, go to financial ruin every year. He shows wisdom who avails himself of the experience of other men, avoiding their errors, and imitating what in them is worthy of imitation.

Paul returned to the shop and made a careful examination of the stock. He came to the conclusion that the price asked was not excessive, and agreed to pay it. In the course of two days the transfer was concluded, and Paul transferred the small stock of his necktie stand to the shop which he had taken. During all this time he had said nothing to his mother of the change he had made. He wanted to surprise her.

"Mother," he said, on the second morning of his possession, "I want you to take a little walk with me this morning."

"May I go too, Paul?" asked Jimmy.

"Yes, Jimmy, I meant to invite you. So get your cap."

"Where shall we walk to, Paul?" asked his mother.

"I don't mean to tell you just yet. You will soon know."

"Is it a secret?" asked Mrs. Hoffman, smiling.

"Yes; it is a great secret."

"Then I will try to stifle my curiosity for a time."

"What is it, Paul? Whisper it to me," said Jimmy.

"You must wait, too," said Paul. "I believe you are more curious than mother."

They had not far to walk. When they reached the shop the sign told them nothing, for Paul had not yet had time to have his own put up. He had given the order to a sign-painter, but it would take time to fulfill it.

"I want to go in here a minute," he said.

"Shall we wait outside?" asked his mother.

"No; come in. I would like to have you see the shop."

The three entered. A young clerk, who had been in the employ of the former proprietor, and whom Paul had agreed to retain at the same wages, was behind the counter.

"Good-morning, Mr. Hoffman," he said.

"Have you sold anything this morning?" asked Paul.

"Yes, sir; I have entered the sales on the slate."

"Let me see them."

"A new style of necktie is out. I think it will be well to get it. It was asked for this morning."

"Very well. Just make a memorandum of it."

"Paul," said Mrs. Hoffman, who had listened to the conversation in surprise, "have you anything to do with this store?"

"I am the proprietor," answered Paul, smiling.

"Is it true? How did it happen?"

"I wanted to surprise you, mother, and so I told you nothing about it."

"When did you come into it?"

"This is only the second day. Mr. Preston helped me, or I could not have carried out the arrangement."

"Do you think you can pay all your expenses and make money?" asked Mrs. Hoffman, a little frightened when she heard of the rent which Paul had agreed to pay.

"I mean to try, mother. I don't feel much afraid. I shall devote myself faithfully to business, and if I don't do well it won't be my fault."


We have kept our promise, and shown how Paul advanced slowly but surely from the humble position of a street merchant to be the proprietor of a shop. Now that several years have elapsed, I am able to say that he succeeded, even beyond his anticipations. At the end of two years he took a larger shop and engaged two extra clerks. Prompt in his engagements, and of thorough integrity, he is likely to be even more prosperous as the years roll on.

His mother is no longer dependent upon him. Mr. Henderson, the English artist, now able to obtain purchasers for his pictures at remunerative prices, asked her to become his wife and a mother to his little girl, and, after a little hesitation, she consented, partly, I think, because Jimmy liked the artist so much. Mr. Henderson took pains to instruct Jimmy and develop his talent, with such encouraging success that Paul's prediction seems likely to be fulfilled, and I shall not be surprised if the name of James Hoffman should, before many years, rank among the most prominent in the list of our artists.

Julius, as I have already stated, left the streets of New York for a home in the West. His old enemies, Jack Morgan and Tom Marlowe, were sentenced to a long imprisonment in Sing Sing. Marlowe threatens vengeance upon Julius whenever he gets free from prison. Whether he will have an opportunity of carrying out his threat I cannot tell.


A. L. Burt's Catalogue of Books for Young People by Popular Writers, 52-58 Duane Street, New York


Joe's Luck: A Boy's Adventures in California. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

The story is chock full of stirring incidents, while the amusing situations are furnished by Joshua Bickford, from Pumpkin Hollow, and the fellow who modestly styles himself the "Rip-tail Roarer, from Pike Co., Missouri." Mr. Alger never writes a poor book, and "Joe's Luck" is certainly one of his best.

Tom the Bootblack; or, The Road to Success. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

A bright, enterprising lad was Tom the Bootblack. He was not at all ashamed of his humble calling, though always on the lookout to better himself. The lad started for Cincinnati to look up his heritage. Mr. Grey, the uncle, did not hesitate to employ a ruffian to kill the lad. The plan failed, and Gilbert Grey, once Tom the bootblack, came into a comfortable fortune. This is one of Mr. Alger's best stories.

Dan the Newsboy. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Dan Mordaunt and his mother live in a poor tenement, and the lad is pluckily trying to make ends meet by selling papers in the streets of New York. A little heiress of six years is confided to the care of the Mordaunts. The child is kidnapped and Dan tracks the child to the house where she is hidden, and rescues her. The wealthy aunt of the little heiress is so delighted with Dan's courage and many good qualities that she adopts him as her heir.

Tony the Hero: A Brave Boy's Adventure with a Tramp. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Tony, a sturdy bright-eyed boy of fourteen, Is under the control of Rudolph Rugg, a thorough rascal. After much abuse Tony runs away and gets a job as stable boy in a country hotel. Tony is heir to a large estate. Rudolph for a consideration hunts up Tony and throws him down a deep well. Of course Tony escapes from the fate provided for him, and by a brave act, a rich friend secures his rights and Tony is prosperous. A very entertaining book.

The Errand Boy; or, How Phil Brent Won Success. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth illustrated, price $1.00.

The career of "The Errand Boy" embraces the city adventures of a smart country lad. Philip was brought up by a kind-hearted innkeeper named Brent. The death of Mrs. Brent paved the way for the hero's subsequent troubles. A retired merchant in New York secures him the situation of errand boy, and thereafter stands as his friend.

Tom Temple's Career. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Tom Temple is a bright, self-reliant lad. He leaves Plympton village to seek work In New York, whence he undertakes an important mission to California. Some of his adventures in the far west are so startling that the reader will scarcely close the book until the last page shall have been reached. The tale is written in Mr. Alger's most fascinating style.

Frank Fowler, the Cash Boy. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Frank Fowler, a poor boy, bravely determines to make a living for himself and his foster-sister Grace. Going to New York he obtains a situation as cash boy in a dry goods store. He renders a service to a wealthy old gentleman who takes a fancy to the lad, and thereafter helps the lad to gain success and fortune.

Tom Thatcher's Fortune. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Tom Thatcher is a brave, ambitious, unselfish boy. He supports his mother and sister on meagre wages earned as a shoe-pegger in John Simpson's factory. Tom is discharged from the factory and starts overland for California. He meets with many adventures. The story is told in a way which has made Mr. Alger's name a household word in so many homes.

The Train Boy. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Paul Palmer was a wide-awake boy of sixteen who supported his mother and sister by selling books and papers on the Chicago and Milwaukee Railroad. He detects a young man in the act of picking the pocket of a young lady. In a railway accident many passengers are killed, but Paul is fortunate enough to assist a Chicago merchant, who out of gratitude takes him into his employ. Paul succeeds with tact and judgment and is well started on the road to business prominence.

Mark Mason's Victory. The Trials and Triumphs of a Telegraph Boy. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Mark Mason, the telegraph boy, was a sturdy, honest lad, who pluckily won his way to success by his honest manly efforts under many difficulties. This story will please the very large class of boys who regard Mr. Alger as a favorite author.

A Debt of Honor. The Story of Gerald Lane's Success in the Far West. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

The story of Gerald Lane and the account of the many trials and disappointments which he passed through before he attained success, will interest all boys who have read the previous stories of this delightful author.

Ben Bruce. Scenes in the Life of a Bowery Newsboy. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Ben Bruce was a brave, manly, generous boy. The story of his efforts, and many seeming failures and disappointments, and his final success, are most interesting to all readers. The tale is written In Mr. Alger's most fascinating style.

The Castaways; or, On the Florida Reefs. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

This tale smacks of the salt sea. From the moment that the Sea Queen leaves lower New York bay till the breeze leaves her becalmed off the coast of Florida, one can almost hear the whistle of the wind through her rigging, the creak of her straining cordage as she heels to the leeward. The adventures of Ben Clark, the hero of the story and Jake the cook, cannot fail to charm the reader. As a writer for young people Mr. Otis Is a prime favorite.

Wrecked on Spider Island; or, How Ned Rogers Found the Treasure. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Ned Rogers, a "down-east" plucky lad ships as cabin boy to earn a livelihood. Ned is marooned on Spider Island, and while there discovers a wreck submerged in the sand, and finds a considerable amount of treasure. The capture of the treasure and the incidents of the voyage serve to make as entertaining a story of sea-life as the most captious boy could desire.

The Search for the Silver City: A Tale of Adventure in Yucatan. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Two lads, Teddy Wright and Neal Emery, embark on the steam yacht Day Dream for a cruise to the tropics. The yacht is destroyed by fire, and then the boat is cast upon the coast of Yucatan. They hear of the wonderful Silver City, of the Chan Santa Cruz Indians, and with the help of a faithful Indian ally carry off a number of the golden images from the temples. Pursued with relentless vigor at last their escape is effected in an astonishing manner. The story is so full of exciting incidents that the reader is quite carried away with the novelty and realism of the narrative.

A Runaway Brig; or, An Accidental Cruise. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

This is a sea tale, and the reader can look out upon the wide shimmering sea as it flashes back the sunlight, and imagine himself afloat with Harry Vandyne, Walter Morse, Jim Libby and that old shell-back, Bob Brace, on the brig Bonita. The boys discover a mysterious document which enables them to find a buried treasure. They are stranded on an island and at last are rescued with the treasure. The boys are sure to be fascinated with this entertaining story.

The Treasure Finders: A Boy's Adventures in Nicaragua. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Roy and Dean Coloney, with their guide Tongla, leave their father's indigo plantation to visit the wonderful ruins of an ancient city. The boys eagerly explore the temples of an extinct race and discover three golden images cunningly hidden away. They escape with the greatest difficulty. Eventually they reach safety with their golden prizes. We doubt if there ever was written a more entertaining story than "The Treasure Finders."

Jack, the Hunchback. A Story of the Coast of Maine. By JAMES OTIS. Price $1.00.

This is the story of a little hunchback who lived on Cape Elizabeth, on the coast of Maine. His trials and successes are most interesting. From first to last nothing stays the interest of the narrative. It bears us along as on a stream whose current varies in direction, but never loses its force.

With Washington at Monmouth: A Story of Three Philadelphia Boys. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50.

Three Philadelphia lads assist the American spies and make regular and frequent visits to Valley Forge in the Winter while the British occupied the city. The story abounds with pictures of Colonial life skillfully drawn, and the glimpses of Washington's soldiers which are given shown that the work has not been hastily done, or without considerable study. The story is wholesome and patriotic in tone, as are all of Mr. Otis' works.

With Lafayette at Yorktown: A Story of How Two Boys Joined the Continental Army. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50.

Two lads from Portmouth, N. H., attempt to enlist In the Colonial Army, and are given employment as spies. There is no lack of exciting incidents which the youthful reader craves, but it is healthful excitement brimming with facts which every boy should be familiar with, and while the reader is following the adventures of Ben Jaffrays and Ned Allen he is acquiring a fund of historical lore which will remain in his memory long after that which he has memorized from textbooks has been forgotten.

At the Siege of Havana. Being the Experiences of Three Boys Serving under Israel Putnam in 1762. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50.

"At the Siege of Havana" deals with that portion of the island's history when the English king captured the capital, thanks to the assistance given by the troops from New England, led in part by Col. Israel Putnam.

The principal characters are Darius Lunt, the lad who, represented as telling the story, and his comrades, Robert Clement and Nicholas Vallet. Colonel Putnam also figures to considerable extent, necessarily, in the tale, and the whole forms one of the most readable stories founded on historical facts.

The Defense of Fort Henry. A Story of Wheeling Creek in 1777. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50.

Nowhere in the history of our country can be found more heroic or thrilling incidents than in the story of those brave men and women who founded the settlement of Wheeling in the Colony of Virginia. The recital of what Elizabeth Zane did is in itself as heroic a story as can be imagined. The wondrous bravery displayed by Major McCulloch and his gallant comrades, the sufferings of the colonists and their sacrifice of blood and life, stir the blood of old as well as young readers.

The Capture of the Laughing Mary. A Story of Three New York Boys in 1776. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, price $1.50.

"During the British occupancy of New York, at the outbreak of the Revolution, a Yankee lad hears of the plot to take General Washington's person, and calls in two companions to assist the patriot cause. They do some astonishing things, and, incidentally, lay the way for an American navy later, by the exploit which gives its name to the work. Mr. Otis' books are too well known to require any particular commendation to the young."—Evening Post.

With Warren at Bunker Hill. A Story of the Siege of Boston. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50.

"This is a tale of the siege of Boston, which opens on the day after the doings at Lexington and Concord, with a description of home life in Boston, introduces the reader to the British camp at Charlestown, shows Gen. Warren at home, describes what a boy thought of the battle of Bunker Hill, and closes with the raising of the siege. The three heroes, George Wentworth. Ben Scarlett and an old ropemaker, incur the enmity of a young Tory, who causes them many adventures the boys will like to read."—Detroit Free Press.

With the Swamp Fox. The Story of General Marion's Spies. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

This story deals with General Francis Marion's heroic struggle in the Carolinas. General Marion's arrival to take command of these brave men and rough riders is pictured as a boy might have seen it, and although the story Is devoted to what the lads did, the Swamp Fox is ever present in the mind of the reader.

On the Kentucky Frontier. A Story of the Fighting Pioneers of the West. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.

In the history of our country there is no more thrilling story than that of the work done on the Mississippi river by a handful of frontiersmen. Mr. Otis takes the reader on that famous expedition from the arrival of Major Clarke's force at Corn Island, until Kaskaskia was captured. He relates that part of Simon Kenton's life history which is not usually touched upon either by the historian or the story teller. This is one of the most entertaining books for young people which has been published.

Sarah Dillard's Ride. A Story of South Carolina in in 1780. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

"This book deals with the Carolinas in 1780, giving a wealth of detail of the Mountain Men who struggled so valiantly against the king's troops. Major Ferguson is the prominent British officer of the story, which is told as though coming from a youth who experienced these adventures. In this way the famous ride of Sarah Dillard is brought out as an incident of the plot."—Boston Journal.

A Tory Plot. A Story of the Attempt to Kill General Washington. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo. cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

"'A Tory Plot' is the story of two lads who overhear something of the plot originated during the Revolution by Gov. Tryon to capture or murder Washington. They communicate their knowledge to Gen. Putnam and are commissioned by him to play the role of detectives in the matter. They do so, and meet with many adventures and hairbreadth escapes. The boys are, of course, mythical, but they serve to enable the author to put into very attractive shape much valuable knowledge concerning one phase of the Revolution."—Pittsburgh Times.

A Traitor's Escape. A Story of the Attempt to Seize Benedict Arnold By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

"This is a tale with stirring scenes depicted in each chapter, bringing clearly before the mind the glorious deeds of the early settlers in this country. In an historical work dealing with this country's past, no plot can hold the attention closer than this one, which describes the attempt and partial success of Benedict Arnold's escape to New York, where he remained as the guest of Sir Henry Clinton. All those who actually figured in the arrest of the traitor, as well as Gen. Washington, are included as characters."—Albany Union.

A Cruise with Paul Jones. A Story of Naval Warfare in 1776. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

"This story takes up that portion of Paul Jones' adventurous life when he was hovering off the British coast, watching for an opportunity to strike the enemy a blow. It deals more particularly with his descent upon Whitehaven, the seizure of Lady Selkirk's plate, and the famous battle with the Drake. The boy who figures in the tale is one who was taken from a derelict by Paul Jones shortly after this particular cruise was begun."—Chicago Inter-Ocean.

Corporal Lige's Recruit. A Story of Crown Point and Ticonderoga. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1,00.

"In 'Corporal Lige's Recruit,' Mr. Otis tells the amusing story of an old soldier, proud of his record, who had served the king In '58, and who takes the lad, Isaac Rice, as his 'personal recruit.' The lad acquits himself superbly. Col. Ethan Allen 'In the name of God and the continental congress,' infuses much martial spirit into the narrative, which will arouse the keenest interest as it proceeds. Crown Point, Ticonderoga, Benedict Arnold and numerous other famous historical names appear in this dramatic tale."—Boston Globe.

Morgan, the Jersey Spy. A Story of the Siege of Yorktown in 1781. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

"The two lads who are utilized by the author to emphasize the details of the work done during that memorable time were real boys who lived on the banks of the York river, and who aided the Jersey spy in his dangerous occupation. In the guise of fishermen the lads visit Yorktown, are suspected of being spies, and put under arrest. Morgan risks his life to save them. The final escape, the thrilling encounter with a squad of red coats, when they are exposed equally to the bullets of friends and foes, told in a masterly fashion, makes of this volume one of the most entertaining books of the year."—Inter-Ocean.

The Young Scout: The Story of a West Point Lieutenant. By EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

The crafty Apache chief Geronimo but a few years ago was the most terrible scourge of the southwest border. The author has woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the incidents of Geronimo's last raid. The hero is Lieutenant James Docker, a recent graduate of West Point. Ambitious to distinguish himself the young man takes many a desperate chance against the enemy and on more than one occasion narrowly escapes with his life. In our opinion Mr. Ellis is the best writer of Indian stories now before the public.

Adrift in the Wilds: The Adventures of Two Shipwrecked Boys. By EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Elwood Brandon and Howard Lawrence are en route for San Francisco. Off the coast of California the steamer takes fire. The two boys reach the shore with several of the passengers. Young Brandon becomes separated from his party and is captured by hostile Indians, but is afterwards rescued. This is a very entertaining narrative of Southern California.

A Young Hero; or, Fighting to Win. By EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

This story tells how a valuable solid silver service was stolen from the Misses Perkinpine, two very old and simple minded ladies. Fred Sheldon, the hero of this story, undertakes to discover the thieves and have them arrested. After much time spent in detective work, he succeeds in discovering the silver plate and winning the reward. The story is told in Mr. Ellis' most fascinating style. Every boy will be glad to read this delightful book.

Lost in the Rockies. A Story of Adventure in the Rocky Mountains. By EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.

Incident succeeds incident, and adventure is piled upon adventure, and at the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experienced breathless enjoyment in this romantic story describing many adventures in the Rockies and among the Indians.

A Jaunt Through Java: The Story of a Journey to the Sacred Mountain. By EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

The interest of this story is found in the thrilling adventures of two cousins, Hermon and Eustace Hadley, on their trip acrosss the Island of Java, from Samarang to the Sacred Mountain. In a land where the Royal Bengal tiger, the rhinoceros, and other fierce beasts are to be met with, it is but natural that the heroes of this book should have a lively experience. There is not a dull page in the book.

The Boy Patriot. A Story of Jack, the Young Friend of Washington. By EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1.50.

"There are adventures of all kinds for the hero and his friends, whose pluck and ingenuity in extricating themselves from awkward fixes are always equal to the occasion. It is an excellent story full of honest, manly, patriotic efforts on the part of the hero. A very vivid description of the battle of Trenton is also found In this story."—Journal of Education.

A Yankee Lad's Pluck. How Bert Larkin Saved his Father's Ranch in Porto Rico. By WM. P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

"Bert Larkin, the hero of the story, early excites our admiration, and is altogether a fine character such as boys will delight in, whilst the story of his numerous adventures is very graphically told. This will, we think, prove one of the most popular boys' books this season."—Gazette.

A Brave Defense. A Story of the Massacre at Fort Griswold in 1781. By WILLIAM P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Perhaps no more gallant fight against fearful odds took place during the Revolutionary War than that at Fort Griswold, Groton Heights, Conn., in 1781. The boys are real boys who were actually on the muster rolls, either at Fort Trumbull on the New London side, or of Fort Griswold on the Groton side of the Thames. The youthful reader who follows Halsey Sanford and Levi Dart and Tom Malleson, and their equally brave comrades, through their thrilling adventures will be learning something more than historical facts; they will be imbibing lessons of fidelity, of bravery, of heroism, and of manliness, which must prove serviceable in the arena of life.

The Young Minuteman. A Story of the Capture of General Prescott in 1777. By WILLIAM P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

This story Is based upon actual events which occurred during the British occupation of the waters of Narragansett Bay. Darius Wale and William Northrop belong to, "the coast patrol." The story is a strong one, dealing only with actual events. There is, however, no lack of thrilling adventure, and every lad who is fortunate enough to obtain the book will find not only that his historical knowledge is increased, but that his own patriotism and love of country are deepened.

For the Temple: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by S. J. SOLOMON. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1.00.

"Mr. Henty's graphic prose picture of the hopeless Jewish resistance to Roman sway adds another leaf to his record of the famous wars of the world. The book is one of Mr. Henty's cleverest efforts."—Graphic.

Roy Gilbert's Search: A Tale of the Great Lakes. By WM. P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

A deep mystery hangs over the parentage of Roy Gilbert. He arranges with two schoolmates to make a tour of the Great Lakes on a steam launch. The three boys visit many points of interest on the lakes. Afterwards the lads rescue an elderly gentleman and a lady from a sinking yacht. Later on the boys narrowly escape with their lives. The hero is a manly, self-reliant boy, whose adventures will be followed with interest.

The Slate Picker: The Story of a Boy's Life in the Coal Mines. By HARRY PRENTICE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

This is a story of a boy's life in the coal mines of Pennsylvania. Ben Burton, the hero, had a hard road to travel, but by grit and energy be advanced step by step until he found himself called upon to fill the position of chief engineer of the Kohinoor Coal Company. This is a book of extreme interest to every boy reader.

The Boy Cruisers; or, Paddling in Florida. By ST. GEORGE RATHBORNE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Andrew George and Rowland Carter start on a canoe trip along the Gulf coast, from Key West to Tampa, Florida. Their first adventure is with a pair of rascals who steal their boats. Next they run into a gale in the Gulf. After that they have a lively time with alligators and Andrew gets into trouble with a band of Seminole Indians. Mr. Rathborne knows just how to interest the boys, and lads who are in search of a rare treat will do well to read this entertaining story.

Captured by Zulus: A Story of Trapping in Africa. By HARRY PRENTICE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

This story details the adventures of two lads, Dick Elsworth and Bob Harvey, in the wilds of South Africa. By stratagem the Zulus capture Dick and Bob and take them to their principal kraal or village. The lads escape death by digging their way out of the prison hut by night. They are pursued, but the Zulus finally give up pursuit. Mr. Prentice tells exactly how wild-beast collectors secure specimens on their native stamping grounds, and these descriptions make very entertaining reading.

Tom the Ready; or, Up from the Lowest. By RANDOLPH HILL. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

This is a dramatic narrative of the unaided rise of a fearless, ambitious boy from the lowest round of fortune's ladder to wealth and the governorship of his native State. Tom Seacomb begins life with a purpose, and eventually overcomes those who oppose him. How he manages to win the battle is told by Mr. Hill in a masterful way that thrills the reader and holds his attention and sympathy to the end.

Captain Kidd's Gold: The True Story of an Adventurous Sailor Boy. By JAMES FRANKLIN FITTS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

There is something fascinating to the average youth in the very idea of buried treasure. A vision arises before his eyes of swarthy Portuguese and Spanish rascals, with black beards and gleaming eyes. There were many famous sea rovers, but none more celebrated than Capt. Kidd. Paul Jones Garry inherits a document which locates a considerable treasure buried by two of Kidd's crew. The hero of this book is an ambitious, persevering lad, of salt-water New England ancestry, and his efforts to reach the island and secure the money form one of the most absorbing tales for our youth that has come from the press.

The Boy Explorers: The Adventures of Two Boys in Alaska. By HARRY PRENTICE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Two boys, Raymond and Spencer Manning, travel to Alaska to join their father in search of their uncle. On their arrival at Sitka the boys With an Indian guide set off across the mountains. The trip is fraught with perils that test the lads' courage to the utmost. All through their exciting adventures the lads demonstrate what can be accomplished by pluck and resolution, and their experience makes one of the most interesting tales ever written.

The Island Treasure; or, Harry Darrel's Fortune. By FRANK H. CONVERSE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1.00.

Harry Darrel, having received a nautical training on a school-ship, is bent on going to sea. A runaway horse changes his prospects. Harry saves Dr. Gregg from drowning and afterward becomes sailing-master of a sloop yacht. Mr. Converse's stories possess a charm of their own which is appreciated by lads who delight in good healthy tales that smack of salt water.

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