“Give me the best morning paper you have, please.”“TheTribunecosts the most, if that is the one you want.”“The price will be no objection providing the paper contains what I wish to find.”“You want work, I s’pose.”“Yes, I am looking for employment.”“I knew it—just in from the country too,” said the newsboy, comically. “Well, what you want is theHeraldorWorld. They are just loaded with wants.”“Thank you, you may give me both.”“Both! Whew, you must be well fixed!” replied the young metropolitan, handing over the papers, as he regarded his new customer curiously.“What does that mean?” asked the latter, seriously.“You don’t know what well fixed means? You must have come from way back! Why it means—it means that you’re solid, that you’ve got the stuff, don’t you see?”“I’m solid enough for a boy of my age, if that is the idea,”replied the lad from the country, rather sharply, as a tinge of color rose to his cheeks.“Shucks! That ain’t the idea at all,” said the street boy, in a tone that seemed apologetic. “What I mean is that you’re a kind of boodle alderman—you’re rich. Do you see now?”“Oh! That’s it. Well, you see, I didn’t know what you meant. I never heard those terms up in Vermont. No; I’m not rich, but on the contrary have so little money that I must commence work at once.”“And that is why you bought two papers, so you can take in the whole business. You’ve got a big head, Vermont, any way, and would do stunnin’ on mornin’ papers.”“Thank you. Do you mean at selling them?”“Yes, of course. You wouldn’t give ’em away, would you?”“Well, no, I should not be inclined to do so.”“That sounds more like it. Perhaps I’ll give you a job, if you can’t find anything else.”“Thank you, I may be very glad to get a chance to sell papers even.”“’Tain’t a bad business anyhow. Me and lots of fellers makes plenty of money at it. But I s’pose you’re hungry, hain’t you? If you be I’ll take you round to a boss place and it won’t cost nothin’ hardly.”“I am very much obliged to you, but I had my breakfast soon after leaving the boat.”“you evidently know all about propriety,so here is my hand,” said herbert.“And I bet they done you up on the price. I tell you what it is, it takes a fellow a good while to learn to live in this city. You don’t know nothin’ about what it costs. Why I know a plenty of boys that spend more—yes, I’d say so, twiceas much as what I do, and they don’t throw no style into their livin’ either. You see they don’t know how and hain’t got no taste, any way. But I like your looks, Vermont, and ef you want any points—and you’re liable to want ’em in this city, I’ll bet you—why you just call on me and I’ll fix you out in big shape.”“Thank you, sincerely,” said the Green Mountain lad, a broad smile playing over his fine face, as he regarded the drollery of his new acquaintance. “I shall need many suggestions, no doubt, for I feel almost lost in this great city. I had no idea it was so large. I was never here before, and do not know where to go for a room or meals.”“So I thought, and that’s why I offered to put you into the right track. My name is Bob Hunter—I hain’t got no business cards yet, but all the boys knows me, and my place of business is right round here in City Hall Park. You’ll find me here ’most any time durin’ business hours.”“Bob Hunter! Well, you may be sure I shall remember your name and place of business, for I want to see you again. But what are your business hours?”“Oh, yes; I forgot that. Everybody must have business hours, of course. Well, say from five to ten in the mornin’, and three to eight in the afternoon, you can find me in.”“In! You meanout, don’t you—out here?”“Shucks! don’t be so schoolmastery. Everybody in business saysin. I guess I know what’s proper!”“All right, Bob Hunter, I’ll give it up. You know all about propriety in New York, and I know nothing of it, so here is my hand. I’ll say good by till tonight, when I will call upon you again. I must look over these papers now, and hunt for a situation.”“I hope you’ll have luck, and get a bang up place. I’ll beinwhen you call tonight; and if you hain’t no objections, I’d like to know your name. It would be more handy to do business, you see. How could my clerks announce you so I’d know you, if I don’t know your name? You see, I might think it was some one that wanted to collect a bill,” continued Bob,dryly, “and I’d beout. Don’t you see how it’s done? I’d just tell my clerks to say ‘Mr. Hunter is not in;’ so, you see, you would get left. Why, business men do it every day!”“My name is Herbert Randolph,” replied the other, laughing heartily at his comical friend—I say friend, for he already felt convinced that he had found one in Bob Hunter.“Herbert Randolph! that’s a tony name—some old fellow I read about in school was called Randolph; most likely he was some of your relations.”The day was too cold for him to remain out in the park and read; so Herbert, acting on the advice of Bob Hunter, hurried to the great granite post office, and there, in the rotunda, ran his eye over the “wants” in his two papers.Many columns of closely printed matter in each paper offering every conceivable position were spread out before him—a bewildering display of flattering prospects.Young Randolph soon learned that if he stopped to read every advertisement in both journals it would be very late in the day before he could apply for any position. But should he only read a few of the wants he might fail to notice the best openings. This was a misfortune, for he was ambitious to get the right position—the position that would enable him to advance the fastest; and like all inexperienced boys, he hoped and even expected he might get it the very first time trying.He had already marked a dozen or two advertised situations which, it seemed to him, would do very well, in fact were quite desirable, but of course they were the high priced positions which would naturally be most sought after by thousands of other applicants—rivals whom the young Vermonter did not take into consideration. He saw before him a demand for four or five thousand people to help move the wheels of commerce.He knew of course that he could onlyacceptone position, so he was desirous that that one should be the best.Any smart boy would feel as he did in this respect.Some boys would even be so thoughtful of the interest of others as to feel sad that the four thousand nine hundred and ninety nine employers should be deprived of their services.But young Randolph was more selfish. He had come here from the country with buoyant hopes and splendid courage. He proposed to make his way in New York—to become what is known as a successful man, to make a name for himself—a name that would extend to his native State and make his parents proud of their brilliant son.Feeling thus, how natural it was that he should linger over the attractive columns much longer than was wise. Yet he did not think of this, or at least he did not give it any serious consideration, for were there not a vast number of positions to be filled? The question then was not whether he could get anything to do, but rather which one he should accept. When talking with young Bob Hunter, the newsboy, he had intimated that he might be glad even to get a chance to sell papers; but it must be remembered that he had not at that time seen a New York paper, and knew nothing of the tremendous demand for help.herbert randolph in the post office.Such a proposition from Bob now, however, would doubtless have been scorned, notwithstanding Herbert’s usual good sense. And such scorn would have been very natural under the circumstances. Selling papers is an employment vastly inferior to clerking, to book keeping, to banking, to writing insurance policies, all of which positions were now open to him, as he supposed, else why should they be advertised? And why could not he fill them—any one of them? He washonest, ambitious, willing to work hard, wrote a splendid hand, had had some experience in clerking in a country store, and, best of all, he knew he would be faithful to his employer—all excellent qualifications in a general way—qualifications that probably seemed to him irresistible. Then, too, might he not lend a degree of intelligence, of thought to the business that would be helpful? This was a point that did not occur to him at first—not till his mind became inspired with the subject; but now the idea seemed to him a good one, and he wondered that he had not thought of it before. At any rate, he decided not to lose sight of it again, for he knew—his common sense told him, and he had read also, that the men who move things in this world are men of brains—men whothink, who lend ideas to business, to inventions, to anything and everything with which they have to deal.Thus another complication was added, for now he must considerin determining if the position he accepted would give him the widest scope for thought, and the broadest play for genius, ideas, originality and enterprise. His imagination ran fast. He was dead to the busy scenes about him. Great questions pressed home upon him for decision, and he did not decide quickly and without thought, as a light headed boy would have done. No, he pondered long and hard over the subject which meant so much to him, and perhaps to the entire commerce of the city and even the finances of the nation. What might not grow out of his start in life—the start of a thoughtful, industrious, original man? How important, then, that it should be a right start! What might not come of a false venture? How the possibilities of the future might be dwarfed by such a move!These were momentous questions for this young ambitious boy to solve. He grappled with them bravely, and with flushed cheeks and dilated eyes knitted his brows and thought. He thought hard, thought as one with the responsibilities of a nation resting upon him—this young untried, untrained boy from old Vermont.“No, I will not take it,” he broke out suddenly and with striking determination in his face. “Simply because I write a good hand they would keep me writing policies all the time, and then I believe the insurance business is run like a big machine. No, I do not want it and will not take it, for I am not going to make a mistake this time. I want to show the folks down home who said I would make a failure here that they didn’tknow me—they counted on the wrong man. No, insurance is good enough for any one without ambition or ideas, who always wants to be a clerk, but I’m not that kind of a man.”He was actually calling himself a man now.“But I think mercantile business or manufacturing or bankingwould do for me and would be suited to me. I wonder which is the best! Mercantile business gives one a good chance to show what he is made of. A man with ideas ought to succeed in it; that is, if he is pushing and has plenty of originality. A. T. Stewart, what a fortune he made! He was original, he did things in a new way, advertised differently, got up new ideas, and pushed his business with close attention. He started without any money. I have no money. He was a hard worker, a thinker, an originator, a pusher. Why shouldn’t I be a hard worker, a thinker, an originator and a pusher? I think I will. But these qualifications will win just as well in the manufacturing and banking business as in mercantile pursuits, and if I have them I shall succeed anywhere. I wonder why those people in Vermont thought I would not succeed here. I wish they could see the chances I have.“Well, I do not think I’ll take to manufacturing, though here are a dozen or so first class situations in that line. I might like it well enough, but I believe banking would suit me better—that is, banking or the mercantile business, and I don’t care much which. Of course banking will be easier at first than clerking, so I should have more time for thought and study—time to get right down to the science of the business. Yes, I believe I’ll try banking. Here are four banks that want a young man. I’ll take a look at each, for I want the best one.”Thus young Randolph reasoned, feeling no uneasiness about procuring a situation, though he had wasted in building foolish air castles so much valuable time that he had really almost no chance of obtaining a situation of any kind that day. This he learned to his sorrow a little later, when he commenced in earnest the very difficult undertaking of getting employment in a great city.CHAPTER II.AN EFFORT TO OBTAIN EMPLOYMENT.What a common occurrence it is for people to do foolish things. How often we see a man of education and broad influence—a hard headed man of sense, who has made his own way against stubborn opposition, and accumulated great wealth—how often, I say, we see such a man exhibit a degree of simplicity in money making or some other matter that would seem weak in an untutored boy. When he already has more money than he knows what to do with, he will perhaps hazard all on some wild cat speculation, and in a very little while find himself penniless and unable to furnish support for his family. Again he becomes the victim of a confidence game, and only learns how he has been played with when he has lost perhaps fifty thousand dollars by the unscrupulous sharpers with whom he has been dealing.Such exhibitions of weakness in men to whom the community looks for an example are always surprising, always painful; but they teach us the important fact that human nature is easily influenced, easily molded, easily led this way or that when the proper influences are brought to bear upon it.It is not so strange, then, that young Herbert Randolph, fresh from the country and as ignorant of the city as a native African, should have become dazzled by the flattering prospectsspread out before him. What a busy city New York seemed to him when he landed from the boat in the early morning! Everything was bustle and activity. People were hurrying along the streets as he had never seen them move in his quiet country town. No idlers were about. Men and boys alike were full of business—they showed it in their faces, their every movement. These facts impressed the young country lad far more than the tall buildings and fine streets. His own active nature bounded with admiration at the life and dash on every hand. He had been reared among sleepy people—people in a rut, whose blood flowed as slowly as the sluggish current upon which they floated towards their final destiny.But young Randolph was not of their class. He had inherited an active mind, and an ambition that made him chafe at his inharmonious surroundings at home. The very atmosphere, therefore, of this great city, laden with the hum of activity, was stimulating and even intoxicating to his boundless ambition. He had been a great reader. Biography had been his favorite pastime. He knew the struggles and triumphs of many of our most conspicuous merchant princes. Not a few familiar names, displayed on great buildings which towered over the tops of their smaller neighbors, greeted his eyes as he approached the city by boat, and passed through the streets after landing. These sights were food for his imagination. He compared himself, his qualifications, his poverty, and his opportunities for advancement in this world of activity with the advent into New York of the men he had taken as models for his own career. There was in a general way a striking likeness between the two pictures as he viewed them. Their struggles had been so long and fierce that it seemed to him they must have been made of iron to finally win the fight.Yet these very difficulties lent attractiveness to the picture. They made heroes of his models, whose example he burned with enthusiasm to follow. Thus it will be seen that in the early morning he expected to meet bitter discouragements, to encounter poverty in its most depressing form, and to meet rebuffs on the right hand and on the left. He expected all this. He rather craved it from the sentimental, heroic standpoint, because the men he had chosen to follow had been compelled to force their way through a similar opposition.From this view of the boy it is plain that he was sincere in thanking young Bob Hunter, a little later, for the newsboy’s generous offer to take him into the paper trade. But a little later still, when he enters the post office and becomes intoxicated with the sudden, the unexpected, the overwhelming opportunities displayed before him—the urgent demands, even, for his services in helping to push forward the commerce of this vast city, he presents himself in an entirely new light. His head has been turned. He has lost sight of the early struggles of his heroes, and now revels in the brilliant pictures drawn by his imagination. How flattering to himself are these airy, short lived fabrics, and how sweet to his young ambition!Had young Randolph been an ordinary boy of slow intellect, he would never have indulged in these beautiful dreams, which to the stupid mind would seem silly and absurd, but to him were living realities—creations to beckon him on, to encourage him in the hours of danger and to sustain him in the stern battle before him.memories of country life—thegreeting by the way.Did he then waste his time in what would seem wild imagination, when a more practically minded boy would have been applying for work? Yes, in the smaller sense, he idled his time away; but in the broader, he builded better than he knew.To be sure, he had lost the opportunity of securing a situation on that day—and he needed work urgently—but he had fixed uponan ideal—a standard of his own, to be the goal of all his efforts and struggles. And such an ideal was priceless to him. It would prove priceless to any boy, for without lofty aims no young man can ever hope to occupy a high position in life.Of course he appears foolish in forgetting what he had anticipated, namely the difficulties he would in all probability experiencein finding a situation, but the fact that five thousand positions were offered to him who knew nothing of the tremendous demand for such situations entirely deluded him. Once forgetting this important point, his mind ran on and on, growing bolder and bolder as thought sped forward unrestrained in wild, hilarious delight.What pleasure in that half hour’s thought—sweet, pure, intoxicating pleasure, finer and more delicate than any real scene in life can ever afford.But everything has a price, and that price must many times be paid in advance. Those delightful moments passed in thinking out for himself a grand career cost young Randolph far more than he felt he could afford to pay. They cost him the opportunity of securing a position on that day, and made him sick at his own ignorance and folly. He felt ashamed of himself and disgusted at his stupidity, as he walked block after block with tired feet and heavy heart, after being coldly turned away from dozens of business houses with no encouragement whatever. He went from banking to mercantile pursuits, then to insurance, to manufacturing, and so on down, grade after grade, till he would have been glad to get any sort of position at honest labor. But none was offered to him and he found no opening of any sort.Night was coming on. He was tired and hungry. His spirits ran low. In the post office in the early part of the day they soared to unusual height, and now they were correspondingly depressed. What should he do next? Where should he spend the night? These questions pressed him for an answer. He thought of Bob Hunter, and his cheeks flushed with shame. He would not have the newsboy know how foolish he had been to waste his time in silly speculation. Heknew the young New Yorker would question him, and he would have to hide the real cause of his failure, should he join his friend. He was fast nearing Bob’s place of business, and he decided to stop for a few moments’ reflection, and to rest his weary limbs as well. Accordingly he stepped to the inner side of the flagging and rested against the massive stone base of the Astor House.Looking to his right Broadway extended down to the Battery, and to his left it stretched far away northward. Up this famous thoroughfare a mighty stream of humanity flowed homeward. Young Randolph watched the scene with much interest, forgetting for a time his own heavy heart. Soon, however, the question what to do with himself pressed him again for an answer. How entirely alone he felt! Of all the thousands of people passing by him, not one with a familiar face. Every one seemed absorbed in himself, and took no more notice of our country lad than if he had been a portion of the cold inanimate granite against which he stood. Herbert felt this keenly, for in the country it was so different. There every one had a kind look or a pleasant word for a fellow man to cheer him on his way.CHAPTER III.AN EVENING WITH BOB HUNTER.Chilly from approaching night and strengthening wind, and depressed by a disheartening sense of loneliness and a keen realization of failure on the first day of his new career, Herbert felt homesick and almost discouraged.At length he joined the passers by, and walked quickly until opposite City Hall Park. He crossed Broadway and soon found himself at young Bob Hunter’s “place of business.” The latter was “in,” and very glad he seemed to see his new friend again. His kindly grasp of the hand and hearty welcome acted like magic upon Herbert Randolph; but his wretchedly disheartened look did not change in time to escape the keen young newsboy’s notice.“Didn’t strike it rich today, did you?” said he, with a smile.“No,” replied Herbert sadly.“Didn’t find no benevolent old gentleman—them as is always looking for poor boys to help along and give ’em money and a bang up time?”“I did not see any such philanthropist looking for me,” answered Herbert, slightly puzzled, for the newsboy’s face was seriousness itself.“Well, that is all fired strange. I don’t see how he missed you, for they takes right to country boys.”“I did not start out very early,” remarked Herbert doubtfully, and with heightened color.“Then that’s how it happened, I guess,” said Bob, with a very thoughtful air. “But you must have found somebody’s pocket book——”“What do you mean?” interrupted Herbert suspiciously.“Mean—why what could I mean? Wasn’t it plain what I said? Wasn’t I speaking good English, I’d like to know?” said Bob, apparently injured.“Your language was plain, to be sure, and your English was good enough,” apologized Herbert; “but I can’t see why I should find anybody’s pocket book.”the benevolent old gentleman presses money on thecountry boy.“Jest what I thought, but you see you don’t know the ways of New York. You will learn, though, and you will be surprised to see how easy it is to pick up a pocket book full of greenbacks and bonds—perhaps a hundred thousand dollars in any one of ’em—and then you will take it to the man what lost it, and he will give you a lots of money, maby a thousand dollars or so—’twouldn’t be much of a man as would do less than a thousand. What do you think?”“I don’t know what to think. I cannot understand you, Bob Hunter.”“That’s ’cause you don’t know me, and ain’t posted onwhat I’m saying. Maby I am springin’ it on you kinder fresh for the first day, though I guess you will stand it. But tell me, Vermont, about the runaway horse that you stopped.”“The runaway horse that I stopped!” exclaimed Herbert. “You must be mad to talk in this way.”“Mad! Well, that’s good; that’s the best thing I’ve heard of yet! Do I look like a fellow that’s mad?” and he laughed convulsively, much to the country lad’s annoyance.“No, you do not look as if you were mad, but you certainly act as if you were,” replied the latter sharply.“Now look a here, Vermont, this won’t do,” said Bob, very serious again. “You are jest tryin’ to fool me, but you can’t do it, Vermont, I’ll tell you that straight. Of course I don’t blame you for wantin’ to be kinder modest about it, for I s’pose it seems to you like puttin’ on airs to admit you saved their lives. But then ’tain’t puttin’ on no airs at all. Ef I was you I’d be proud to own it; other boys always owns it, and they don’t show no modesty about it the same as what you do, either. And I don’t know why they should, for it’s something to be proud of; and you know, Vermont, the funniest thing about it is that them runaways is always stopped by boys from the country jest like you. Don’t ask me why it happens so, for I don’t know myself; but all the books will tell you that it is so. And jest think, Vermont, how many lives they save! You know the coachman gets paralyzed, and the horses runs away and he tumbles off his box, and a rich lady and her daughter—they are always rich, and the daughter is always in the carriage, too—funny, ain’t it, but it’s as true as I’m alive; and the boy rushes at the horses when they are going like a cyclone, and stops ’em jest as the carriage is going to be dashed to pieces. And then the lady cries and throws herarms round the boy, and kisses him, and puts a hundred dollars in his hands, and he refuses it. Then the lady and her daughter ask him to come up to their house, and the next day her husband gets a bang up position for him, where he can make any amount of money.“Now I call that somethin’ to be proud of, as I said before, and I don’t see no sense in your tryin’ to seem ignorant about it. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised a bit ef you would try to make out that you wasn’t anear any fire today. But that wouldn’t do, Vermont—I’ll give you a pointer on that now, so you won’t attempt no such tomfoolery with me, for no boy like you ever comes into a town like New York is and don’t save somebody from burning up—rescue ’em from a tall building when nobody else can get to ’em. And of course for doing this they get pushed right ahead into something fine, while us city fellows have to shin around lively for a livin’.the country boy finds a wellfilled pocket book.“I don’t knowef you saved anybody from drowning or not; I won’t say that you did, but ef you didn’t you ain’t in luck, that’s all I’ve got to say about it. So you see ’tain’t much use for you to try to deceive me, Vermont, for I know jest what’s a fair day’s work for a boy from the country—jest what’s expected of him on his first day here. Why, ef you don’t believe me (and I know you don’t by the way you look), jest get all the books that tells about country boys coming to New York, and read what they say, that’s all I ask of you, Vermont. Now come, own up and tell it straight.”“Bob, you are altogether too funny,” laughed Herbert, now that the drift of his friend’s seemingly crazy remarks was plain to him. “How can you manage to joke so seriously, and why do you make fun of me? Because I am from the country, I suppose.”“I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings, Vermont,” replied Bob, enjoying greatly his own good natured satire.“No, not at all, Bob Hunter, but until I saw your joke I thought surely you were insane.”“Well, you see, I thought you needed something to kinder knock the blues that you brought back with you tonight—’tain’t much fun to have ’em, is it? Sometimes I get ’em myself, so I know what they’re like. But now to be honest, and not fool no more, didn’t you get no show today?”“No, not the least bit of encouragement,” replied Herbert.“And you kept up the hunt all day?”“Yes.”“I ought ter told you that that warn’t no use.”“How is that?”“Why, don’t you see, it’s the first fellers what gets the jobs—them as gets round early.”“And are there so many applicants for every position?”“Are there? Well, you jest bet there are. I’ve seen more’n two hundred boys after a place, and ’twan’t nothin’ extra of a place, either.”“But then there are thousands of places to be filled. Why, the papers were full of them.”“Yes, and there is a good many more thousands what wants them same jobs. You never thought of that, I guess.”Herbert admitted with flushed cheeks that he had not given that fact proper consideration.“Well, you done well, any way, to hang on so long,” said Bob, in his off hand, comical manner. “I expected you’d get sick before this time, and steer straight for Vermont.”“Why did you think that?”the country boy to the rescue.“Well, most of the country boys think they can pick up money on the streets in New York; but when they get here, and begin to hunt for it, they tumble rather spry—I mean they find they’ve been took in, and that a fellow has got to work harder, yes, I’d say so, ten times harder, here’n he does on a farm. There he can just sleep and laze round in the sun, and go in swimmin’, and all the time the stuff is just growin’ and whoopin’ her right along, like as if Iwas boss of a dozen boys, and they was all sellin’ papers and I was makin’ a profit on ’em all, and wasn’t doin’ nothin’ myself. So when these fellers find out they’ve got to knuckle down and shine shoes, why they just light out kinder lively, and make up their minds that New York ain’t much of a town no how.”“And so you thought I would ‘light out’ too,” laughed Herbert.“Well, I didn’t know. I told you I liked your looks, but I hain’t much faith in nobody till I know what kind of stuff a feller is made of. But if he’s got any sand in him, then I’ll bet on his winning right here in New York, and he won’t have to go back home for his bread. Well, speakin’ of bread reminds me that it’s about time to eat something and I’m all fired hungry, and you look es ef ’twould do you good to get a little somethin’ warm in your stomach. Funny, ain’t it, we can’t do nothin’ without eatin’? But we can’t, so let’s eat. Business is about over, and I don’t mind leavin’ a little early, any way.”Herbert assented gladly to this proposition, and presently Bob took him up Chatham Street to an eating house known as the “Boss Tweed Restaurant”—a restaurant the cheapness of which recommended it, five cents being the established price for a meal.“I s’pose you hain’t made no plans for a place to sleep yet?” said the newsboy, while eating their frugal fare.“No,” replied Herbert. “I thought I would wait and see you before making any move in that direction. You are the only one I know in the city.”“And ’tain’t much you know about me.”“Very true; but from your appearance I’m satisfied to trust myself with you.”“You’re takin’ big chances ef you do,” replied Bob, happily; “but ef you want to take the resk, why we will jest look up a room and occupy it together. I kinder think I’d like the scheme. I’ve been sleepin’ at the Newsboys’ Lodging House, but I’m tired of it. What do you say?”at the boss tweed restaurant.“I say yes,” replied Herbert. He was only too glad of the chance, and liked the idea of having Bob Hunter for a room mate. He thought there would be something fascinating about living with a newsboy, and learning this phase of life in a great city, especially when the newsboy was so droll as Bob Hunter had already shown himself to be.“All right, then, it’s a go,” replied Bob, greatly pleased.When the meal had been finished they continued up Chatham Street into the Bowery, and then turned into a side street where inexpensive rooms were offered for rent. After a little hunting they found one at a cost of one dollar a week which proved satisfactory. They immediately took possession, and went to bed very early, as Herbert was practically worn out.CHAPTER IV.AT MR. GOLDWIN’S OFFICE.On the following morning both boys rose early and breakfasted together. Then Bob hurried away to his paper trade, and Herbert applied himself diligently to reading the “wants.” The following advertisement especially attracted his attention:WANTED, a bright, smart American boy of about sixteen years of age; must have good education, good character, and be willing to work. Salary small, but faithful services will be rewarded with advancement.RICHARD GOLDWIN,Banker and Broker, Wall Street.“I think I can fill those requirements,” said young Randolph to himself, thoughtfully. “For all I can see, I am as likely to be accepted by a banker as a baker or any one else in want of help. There will doubtless be a lot of applicants for the position, and so there would if the demand was for street cleaning, therefore I think I may as well take my chances with the bank as at anything else.”Having come to this conclusion, he talked the matter over with Bob Hunter, upon whose practical sense Herbert was beginning to place a high value. The shrewd young newsboy approved of the plan, so our country lad started early for Wall Street, where the great money kings are popularly supposed to hold high carnival, and do all sorts of extraordinary things. When he arrived, however, at Richard Goldwin’s banking house,his hopes sank very low, for before him was a long line of perhaps forty or fifty boys, each of whom had come there hoping to secure the advertised position.This crowd of young Americans comprised various grades of boys. Some were stupid, others intelligent; a few were quiet and orderly, but the majority were boisterous and rough. Squabbling was active, and taunts and jeers were so numerous, that a strange boy from a quiet country home would have hardly dared to join this motley crowd, unless he was possessed of rare courage and determination.a glimpse of wall street.Herbert Randolph paused for a moment when he had passed through the outer door, and beheld the spectacle before him. He wondered if he had made a mistake and entered the wrong place; but before he had time to settle this question in his own mind, one of the boys before him, who was taller and more uncivil than those about him, and seemed to be a leader among them, shouted, derisively:“Here’s a new candidate—right from the barnyard too!”All turned their attention at once to the object of the speaker’s ridicule, and joined him in such remarks as “potato bug,” “country,” “corn fed,” “greeny,” “boots,” and all the time they howled and jeered at the boy from the farm most unmercifully.“You think you’ll carry off this position, maybe,” said the leader, sarcastically. “You’d better go home and raise cabbage or punkins!”Again the crowd exploded with laughter, and as many mean things as could be thought of were said. Herbert made no reply, but instead of turning back and running away from such a crowd, as most boys would have done, he stepped forward boldly, and took his place in the line with others to await the arrival of the banker.His face was flushed, and he showed plainly his indignation at the insolent remarks made to him. Nevertheless, this very abuse stimulated his determination to such a degree, that he was now the last boy in the world to be driven away by the insults and bullying of those about him.His defiance was so bold, and his manner was so firm and independent, that he at once commanded the respect of the majority of the long line of applicants, though all wished he were out of the way; for they saw in him a dangerous rival for the position they sought.A notable exception, however, to those who shared this better feeling, was the boy whom I have spoken of as the “leader,” for such he seemed to be. He was no ordinary boy, this bright, keen, New York lad, with a form of rare build, tall and straight as a young Indian. He showed in every movement, and in the manner of his speech, that his character was a positive one, and that nature had endowed him with the qualities of a leader.herbert randolph finds himselfamong a mob of rival applicants.These gifts he now exercised with remarkable effect upon the raw material about him, if by such a term I may characterize the peculiarly mixed crowd of boys in line.When, however, Herbert Randolph advanced to his position with such unmistakable determination in his manner, and with firmness so distinctly showing in every muscle of his face, our young leader trembled visibly for an instant, and then the hot blood mantling his cheeks betrayed his anger.He had endeavored to drive away the young Vermonter by jeers and bullying, but he failed in this attempt. In him he found his match—a boy quite equal to himself in determination, in the elegance of his figure and the superiority of his intellect.The country boy lacked, however, the polish and grace of the city, and that ease and assurance that comes from association with people in large towns. But the purity of his character, a character as solid as the granite hills of his native State, was of infinitely more value to him than was all the freedom of city manner to the New York lad.These two boys were no ordinary youths. Each of them possessed a positive and determined character. The one was bold as the other, and in intellect and the commanding qualities of their minds they were giants among boys.The others felt this now in the case of both, as they had but a few moments before felt it regarding the one. They realized their own inferiority. The jeering and bullying ceased, and all was quiet, save the slam of the door, as new applicants now and then dropped in and joined the line. The silence became painful as the two prominent figures eyed each other. Herbert knew better than to make the first move. He waited the action of his rival, ready to defend his position.The strange and sudden quiet of all the boys, who had but a few moments before been so noisy and insulting, gave him renewed courage. He saw, to his great relief, that he had but one mind to contend with—but one enemy to overcome. In this one’s face, however, was pictured a degree of cunning and anger that he had never seen before in all his simple life.The evil designs in the face of the city boy momentarily became more noticeable. Why had he so suddenly stopped his derisive remarks? And why should he show his evident hatred toward our hero? Is it possible that he dare not attack him, and that he is afraid to continue the bullying further? That he feels that Herbert is his equal, and perhaps more than a match for him, seems evident; and yet he will not acknowledge himself inferior to any one, much less to this country lad.“No, heshall notget this situation away from me,” he said determinedly to himself; and then his mind seemed bent upon some deep plot or wicked scheme.CHAPTER V.THE CONTEST BETWEEN HERBERT AND FELIX.Presently the inner doors of the banking house were thrown open, and a gentleman of perhaps a little more than middle age stepped lightly into the corridor, where the boys awaited his arrival. He had a kindly face, and a sharp but pleasant blue eye.All seemed to know intuitively that he was Richard Goldwin, the banker, and consequently each one made a dashing, but somewhat comical effort to appear to good advantage.“Good morning, boys,” said the banker, pleasantly, “I am glad to see so many of you here, and I wish I was able to give each one of you a position. I see, however, that many of you are too young for my purpose; therefore it would be useless to waste your time and mine by further examination.”In a little time the contest had narrowed down to but two, and they were Herbert Randolph, and the boy who had so ineffectually attempted to drive him away.“What is your name?” asked the banker of the city lad.“My name is Felix Mortimer.”“Felix Mortimer?”“Yes, sir.”“Mortimer, Mortimer,” repeated Mr. Goldwin. “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. Do you live in New York?”“Yes, sir.”“In what part of the city?”“In Eleventh Street, sir—on the East Side.”“Well, you appear like a bright boy. Are you ambitious to work your way up in a solid, reliable business?”“Yes, sir, I am; and banking is just what I would like.”“And you are willing to work hard?”“Yes, sir, I think I could satisfy you that I am.”“What is your age?”“I am seventeen years old.”“Have you ever worked in any business house?”“Yes, I have had two years’ experience in business.”“You commenced rather young—so young that I am afraid your education was neglected.”“Well, I was a good scholar in school; here is a recommendation from my teacher.”Richard Goldwin read the letter, which purported to be signed by the principal of a well known school.“This speaks well of you,” said the banker.Felix looked pleased, and cast a triumphant glance at Herbert, who sat at a little distance off, anxiously awaiting his turn to be examined. He was afraid the banker might settle upon young Mortimer without even investigating his own fitness for the position.“For what firm did you work?” asked Richard Goldwin.“For Wormley & Jollup,” replied Felix, firmly.“The large trunk manufacturers up Broadway?”“Yes, sir.”“Why didn’t you remain with them?”This question would have confused some boys, had they been in the place of Felix; but it did not affect him in theslightest degree, though the keen and practiced eye of the banker watched him closely.“Why, don’t you remember that Wormley & Jollup had a big strike in their factory?”“Yes, the papers printed a great deal about it.”“Well, you see, they couldn’t get any trunks made; so business got dull in the store.”“They wouldn’t give in to the strikers, I believe?”“No; and the result was they had to let a lot of us go.”“It was an unfortunate affair. But I suppose you got a recommendation from Wormley & Jollup?”“Yes, sir,” said Felix, with all the assurance of one who was telling the truth; “there it is—signed by Mr. Jollup himself.”The letter was highly complimentary to Felix Mortimer.“No one could ask for a better recommendation than this,” said the banker, looking as if he thought he had found a prize in the boy before him.Had he suspected that this very recommendation was forged, he would have been angry. Now, however, he felt quite the reverse; and decided to give Herbert a hearing more as a matter of courtesy than otherwise, for he had practically settled upon young Mortimer for the position in his banking house.Felix saw this and could hardly restrain his happiness, as he saw pictured on the young Vermonter’s face unmistakable discomfiture.“Well, you may be seated,” said Mr. Goldwin; “I wish to see what this young man has to say for himself before engaging any one.”“So you came from Vermont, right from the farm?” said the banker to Herbert, after a few minutes’ conversation.“Yes, sir,” returned young Randolph.“And I suppose you expect to make your fortune in this city?”“I have not got so far along as that yet, sir. I hope, however, that I shall do well here.”“You look like a plucky lad, and those red cheeks of yours are worth a fortune. I remember well when mine were as full of rich young blood as yours are now. I was a country lad myself.”“Then your career shows that a boy from the country may make a success.”“Yes, that is very true. Many of our most successful men came from the farm; but I assure you, my boy, that success is not an easy thing to pick up in a big city. The chances are a hundred to one against any boy who comes here from the country. If, however, he does not succumb to temptation, and has sufficient pluck and perseverance, he can do well in this city.”“I am quite ready to take that hundredth chance,” said Herbert, in a way that pleased the banker.“Well, I admire your courage, young man, but now to return to business. Suppose I were to give you a situation, how could you live on three dollars a week? You say you have no means, and must earn your own living. I cannot pay a larger salary at first.”“I am sure I can manage that all right, sir; one can do what he must do.”“That is true; your ideas are sound there, surely. What is your age?”“I am nearly seventeen, sir.”“You are so strongly built, perhaps you could get a placewhere more money could be paid for your services; some place where heavy work is to be done.”“I am not afraid of hard work, for I have always been accustomed to it; but I would much rather have a chance where there are good prospects ahead.”“Again you are right,” said the banker, now becoming interested in the young Vermonter. “What is your education?”“I passed through our district school, and went for several terms to the Green Mountain Academy. I have taught three terms of school.”“Three terms! You certainly must have commenced young.”“Yes; I was not very old. I got my first school when I was fifteen.”“Do you write a good hand? Please come to this desk, and show me what you can do.”Herbert complied readily with the request, and was most happy to do so, for he had spent many hours in practicing penmanship, and now wrote a beautiful hand.Richard Goldwin was surprised when he took up the sheet of paper and ran his eye over the well formed letters.“Mr. Mortimer, will you please show me what you can do with the pen?” said the banker.Felix rose to his feet, and the color rose to his face. He wasn’t very powerful with the pen, and he knew it; but another matter disconcerted him. He feared, and well he might, that his writing would resemble, only too closely, that in the recommendation which he had shown to Mr. Goldwin. But he was equal to the emergency, and, to make the disguise perfect, he gave to his writing the left hand or backhand stroke. This was done at the expense of his penmanship, which, however,would not have been considered absolutely bad, had it not been compared with the gracefully and perfectly cut letters of Herbert Randolph.The banker looked at both critically for a moment, and then, after a pause, said:“Mr. Mortimer, I would like to speak with you alone.”The latter followed him to the outer office.“Your manner pleases me, young man,” said Mr. Goldwin, pleasantly, “and with one exception I see but little choice between you two boys, but that little is in your competitor’s favor.”The color left Felix Mortimer’s face.“I refer,” continued the banker, “to his penmanship, which you must acknowledge is far superior to your own; and a good handwriting adds much to one’s value in an office of this sort. I see you are disappointed, and I knew you would be. Do not, however, feel discouraged, as it is possible I may do something for you yet. If Mr. Randolph should prove unsatisfactory in any respect, he will not be retained permanently. You may, therefore, if you choose, run in here again in a day or two.”Young Mortimer was greatly disappointed and even deeply chagrined, for he had supposed himself more than capable of holding his own against this unsophisticated country lad. Had he not attempted to bully him while waiting for the banker and failed, thus arousing a spirit of rivalry and hostility between young Randolph and himself, he would of course have felt differently, but now an intense hatred was kindled within him, and with burning passion he determined upon revenge.Felix Mortimer went direct from Richard Goldwin’s banking house to the Bowery, and from there he soon found his wayto a side street, which contained many old buildings of unattractive appearance. The neighborhood was a disreputable one. Squalor was on every hand, and many individuals of unsavory reputations made this locality their headquarters. One of these was Christopher Gunwagner, a repulsive specimen of humanity, who had been in business here for several years as a “fence,” or receiver of stolen goods.To this fence Felix directed his steps.“Good morning, Mr. Gunwagner,” said young Mortimer, briskly.The former eyed him sharply for a moment.“What do you want now?” growled the fence by way of reply. “Why don’t you bring me something, as you ought to?”Felix cut him short, and at once proceeded to business.“I came,” said he, “to get you to help me and thereby help yourself. I’ve got a chance to get into a bank——”“Into a bank?” interrupted Gunwagner, now interested.“Yes.”“Where?”“On Wall Street, in Richard Goldwin’s banking house.”“If you don’t take it, you’re a fool. Goldwin’s, hey?” he went on; “we can make it pay us; yes, yes, we are in luck.” And he rubbed his thin hands together greedily.“I expect to take it as soon as I can get it,” said Felix; and then he described the competitive examination between himself and the young Vermonter.“So you want to get him out of the way, eh?”“You have struck it right this time. That’s just what I want, and propose to do.”“And you expect me to help you?”“Certainly I do. To whom else should I go?”“What do you want me to do?”“I haven’t quite got the plan yet, and want your advice. You see if I can get him out of the way for a few days, so he won’t show up, why old Goldwin will take me in his place. If I can once get in there, and remain till I get the run of things, we can have it our own way.”
“Give me the best morning paper you have, please.”
“TheTribunecosts the most, if that is the one you want.”
“The price will be no objection providing the paper contains what I wish to find.”
“You want work, I s’pose.”
“Yes, I am looking for employment.”
“I knew it—just in from the country too,” said the newsboy, comically. “Well, what you want is theHeraldorWorld. They are just loaded with wants.”
“Thank you, you may give me both.”
“Both! Whew, you must be well fixed!” replied the young metropolitan, handing over the papers, as he regarded his new customer curiously.
“What does that mean?” asked the latter, seriously.
“You don’t know what well fixed means? You must have come from way back! Why it means—it means that you’re solid, that you’ve got the stuff, don’t you see?”
“I’m solid enough for a boy of my age, if that is the idea,”replied the lad from the country, rather sharply, as a tinge of color rose to his cheeks.
“Shucks! That ain’t the idea at all,” said the street boy, in a tone that seemed apologetic. “What I mean is that you’re a kind of boodle alderman—you’re rich. Do you see now?”
“Oh! That’s it. Well, you see, I didn’t know what you meant. I never heard those terms up in Vermont. No; I’m not rich, but on the contrary have so little money that I must commence work at once.”
“And that is why you bought two papers, so you can take in the whole business. You’ve got a big head, Vermont, any way, and would do stunnin’ on mornin’ papers.”
“Thank you. Do you mean at selling them?”
“Yes, of course. You wouldn’t give ’em away, would you?”
“Well, no, I should not be inclined to do so.”
“That sounds more like it. Perhaps I’ll give you a job, if you can’t find anything else.”
“Thank you, I may be very glad to get a chance to sell papers even.”
“’Tain’t a bad business anyhow. Me and lots of fellers makes plenty of money at it. But I s’pose you’re hungry, hain’t you? If you be I’ll take you round to a boss place and it won’t cost nothin’ hardly.”
“I am very much obliged to you, but I had my breakfast soon after leaving the boat.”
“you evidently know all about propriety,so here is my hand,” said herbert.
“And I bet they done you up on the price. I tell you what it is, it takes a fellow a good while to learn to live in this city. You don’t know nothin’ about what it costs. Why I know a plenty of boys that spend more—yes, I’d say so, twiceas much as what I do, and they don’t throw no style into their livin’ either. You see they don’t know how and hain’t got no taste, any way. But I like your looks, Vermont, and ef you want any points—and you’re liable to want ’em in this city, I’ll bet you—why you just call on me and I’ll fix you out in big shape.”
“Thank you, sincerely,” said the Green Mountain lad, a broad smile playing over his fine face, as he regarded the drollery of his new acquaintance. “I shall need many suggestions, no doubt, for I feel almost lost in this great city. I had no idea it was so large. I was never here before, and do not know where to go for a room or meals.”
“So I thought, and that’s why I offered to put you into the right track. My name is Bob Hunter—I hain’t got no business cards yet, but all the boys knows me, and my place of business is right round here in City Hall Park. You’ll find me here ’most any time durin’ business hours.”
“Bob Hunter! Well, you may be sure I shall remember your name and place of business, for I want to see you again. But what are your business hours?”
“Oh, yes; I forgot that. Everybody must have business hours, of course. Well, say from five to ten in the mornin’, and three to eight in the afternoon, you can find me in.”
“In! You meanout, don’t you—out here?”
“Shucks! don’t be so schoolmastery. Everybody in business saysin. I guess I know what’s proper!”
“All right, Bob Hunter, I’ll give it up. You know all about propriety in New York, and I know nothing of it, so here is my hand. I’ll say good by till tonight, when I will call upon you again. I must look over these papers now, and hunt for a situation.”
“I hope you’ll have luck, and get a bang up place. I’ll beinwhen you call tonight; and if you hain’t no objections, I’d like to know your name. It would be more handy to do business, you see. How could my clerks announce you so I’d know you, if I don’t know your name? You see, I might think it was some one that wanted to collect a bill,” continued Bob,dryly, “and I’d beout. Don’t you see how it’s done? I’d just tell my clerks to say ‘Mr. Hunter is not in;’ so, you see, you would get left. Why, business men do it every day!”
“My name is Herbert Randolph,” replied the other, laughing heartily at his comical friend—I say friend, for he already felt convinced that he had found one in Bob Hunter.
“Herbert Randolph! that’s a tony name—some old fellow I read about in school was called Randolph; most likely he was some of your relations.”
The day was too cold for him to remain out in the park and read; so Herbert, acting on the advice of Bob Hunter, hurried to the great granite post office, and there, in the rotunda, ran his eye over the “wants” in his two papers.
Many columns of closely printed matter in each paper offering every conceivable position were spread out before him—a bewildering display of flattering prospects.
Young Randolph soon learned that if he stopped to read every advertisement in both journals it would be very late in the day before he could apply for any position. But should he only read a few of the wants he might fail to notice the best openings. This was a misfortune, for he was ambitious to get the right position—the position that would enable him to advance the fastest; and like all inexperienced boys, he hoped and even expected he might get it the very first time trying.
He had already marked a dozen or two advertised situations which, it seemed to him, would do very well, in fact were quite desirable, but of course they were the high priced positions which would naturally be most sought after by thousands of other applicants—rivals whom the young Vermonter did not take into consideration. He saw before him a demand for four or five thousand people to help move the wheels of commerce.He knew of course that he could onlyacceptone position, so he was desirous that that one should be the best.
Any smart boy would feel as he did in this respect.
Some boys would even be so thoughtful of the interest of others as to feel sad that the four thousand nine hundred and ninety nine employers should be deprived of their services.
But young Randolph was more selfish. He had come here from the country with buoyant hopes and splendid courage. He proposed to make his way in New York—to become what is known as a successful man, to make a name for himself—a name that would extend to his native State and make his parents proud of their brilliant son.
Feeling thus, how natural it was that he should linger over the attractive columns much longer than was wise. Yet he did not think of this, or at least he did not give it any serious consideration, for were there not a vast number of positions to be filled? The question then was not whether he could get anything to do, but rather which one he should accept. When talking with young Bob Hunter, the newsboy, he had intimated that he might be glad even to get a chance to sell papers; but it must be remembered that he had not at that time seen a New York paper, and knew nothing of the tremendous demand for help.
herbert randolph in the post office.
Such a proposition from Bob now, however, would doubtless have been scorned, notwithstanding Herbert’s usual good sense. And such scorn would have been very natural under the circumstances. Selling papers is an employment vastly inferior to clerking, to book keeping, to banking, to writing insurance policies, all of which positions were now open to him, as he supposed, else why should they be advertised? And why could not he fill them—any one of them? He washonest, ambitious, willing to work hard, wrote a splendid hand, had had some experience in clerking in a country store, and, best of all, he knew he would be faithful to his employer—all excellent qualifications in a general way—qualifications that probably seemed to him irresistible. Then, too, might he not lend a degree of intelligence, of thought to the business that would be helpful? This was a point that did not occur to him at first—not till his mind became inspired with the subject; but now the idea seemed to him a good one, and he wondered that he had not thought of it before. At any rate, he decided not to lose sight of it again, for he knew—his common sense told him, and he had read also, that the men who move things in this world are men of brains—men whothink, who lend ideas to business, to inventions, to anything and everything with which they have to deal.
Thus another complication was added, for now he must considerin determining if the position he accepted would give him the widest scope for thought, and the broadest play for genius, ideas, originality and enterprise. His imagination ran fast. He was dead to the busy scenes about him. Great questions pressed home upon him for decision, and he did not decide quickly and without thought, as a light headed boy would have done. No, he pondered long and hard over the subject which meant so much to him, and perhaps to the entire commerce of the city and even the finances of the nation. What might not grow out of his start in life—the start of a thoughtful, industrious, original man? How important, then, that it should be a right start! What might not come of a false venture? How the possibilities of the future might be dwarfed by such a move!
These were momentous questions for this young ambitious boy to solve. He grappled with them bravely, and with flushed cheeks and dilated eyes knitted his brows and thought. He thought hard, thought as one with the responsibilities of a nation resting upon him—this young untried, untrained boy from old Vermont.
“No, I will not take it,” he broke out suddenly and with striking determination in his face. “Simply because I write a good hand they would keep me writing policies all the time, and then I believe the insurance business is run like a big machine. No, I do not want it and will not take it, for I am not going to make a mistake this time. I want to show the folks down home who said I would make a failure here that they didn’tknow me—they counted on the wrong man. No, insurance is good enough for any one without ambition or ideas, who always wants to be a clerk, but I’m not that kind of a man.”
He was actually calling himself a man now.
“But I think mercantile business or manufacturing or bankingwould do for me and would be suited to me. I wonder which is the best! Mercantile business gives one a good chance to show what he is made of. A man with ideas ought to succeed in it; that is, if he is pushing and has plenty of originality. A. T. Stewart, what a fortune he made! He was original, he did things in a new way, advertised differently, got up new ideas, and pushed his business with close attention. He started without any money. I have no money. He was a hard worker, a thinker, an originator, a pusher. Why shouldn’t I be a hard worker, a thinker, an originator and a pusher? I think I will. But these qualifications will win just as well in the manufacturing and banking business as in mercantile pursuits, and if I have them I shall succeed anywhere. I wonder why those people in Vermont thought I would not succeed here. I wish they could see the chances I have.
“Well, I do not think I’ll take to manufacturing, though here are a dozen or so first class situations in that line. I might like it well enough, but I believe banking would suit me better—that is, banking or the mercantile business, and I don’t care much which. Of course banking will be easier at first than clerking, so I should have more time for thought and study—time to get right down to the science of the business. Yes, I believe I’ll try banking. Here are four banks that want a young man. I’ll take a look at each, for I want the best one.”
Thus young Randolph reasoned, feeling no uneasiness about procuring a situation, though he had wasted in building foolish air castles so much valuable time that he had really almost no chance of obtaining a situation of any kind that day. This he learned to his sorrow a little later, when he commenced in earnest the very difficult undertaking of getting employment in a great city.
AN EFFORT TO OBTAIN EMPLOYMENT.
What a common occurrence it is for people to do foolish things. How often we see a man of education and broad influence—a hard headed man of sense, who has made his own way against stubborn opposition, and accumulated great wealth—how often, I say, we see such a man exhibit a degree of simplicity in money making or some other matter that would seem weak in an untutored boy. When he already has more money than he knows what to do with, he will perhaps hazard all on some wild cat speculation, and in a very little while find himself penniless and unable to furnish support for his family. Again he becomes the victim of a confidence game, and only learns how he has been played with when he has lost perhaps fifty thousand dollars by the unscrupulous sharpers with whom he has been dealing.
Such exhibitions of weakness in men to whom the community looks for an example are always surprising, always painful; but they teach us the important fact that human nature is easily influenced, easily molded, easily led this way or that when the proper influences are brought to bear upon it.
It is not so strange, then, that young Herbert Randolph, fresh from the country and as ignorant of the city as a native African, should have become dazzled by the flattering prospectsspread out before him. What a busy city New York seemed to him when he landed from the boat in the early morning! Everything was bustle and activity. People were hurrying along the streets as he had never seen them move in his quiet country town. No idlers were about. Men and boys alike were full of business—they showed it in their faces, their every movement. These facts impressed the young country lad far more than the tall buildings and fine streets. His own active nature bounded with admiration at the life and dash on every hand. He had been reared among sleepy people—people in a rut, whose blood flowed as slowly as the sluggish current upon which they floated towards their final destiny.
But young Randolph was not of their class. He had inherited an active mind, and an ambition that made him chafe at his inharmonious surroundings at home. The very atmosphere, therefore, of this great city, laden with the hum of activity, was stimulating and even intoxicating to his boundless ambition. He had been a great reader. Biography had been his favorite pastime. He knew the struggles and triumphs of many of our most conspicuous merchant princes. Not a few familiar names, displayed on great buildings which towered over the tops of their smaller neighbors, greeted his eyes as he approached the city by boat, and passed through the streets after landing. These sights were food for his imagination. He compared himself, his qualifications, his poverty, and his opportunities for advancement in this world of activity with the advent into New York of the men he had taken as models for his own career. There was in a general way a striking likeness between the two pictures as he viewed them. Their struggles had been so long and fierce that it seemed to him they must have been made of iron to finally win the fight.
Yet these very difficulties lent attractiveness to the picture. They made heroes of his models, whose example he burned with enthusiasm to follow. Thus it will be seen that in the early morning he expected to meet bitter discouragements, to encounter poverty in its most depressing form, and to meet rebuffs on the right hand and on the left. He expected all this. He rather craved it from the sentimental, heroic standpoint, because the men he had chosen to follow had been compelled to force their way through a similar opposition.
From this view of the boy it is plain that he was sincere in thanking young Bob Hunter, a little later, for the newsboy’s generous offer to take him into the paper trade. But a little later still, when he enters the post office and becomes intoxicated with the sudden, the unexpected, the overwhelming opportunities displayed before him—the urgent demands, even, for his services in helping to push forward the commerce of this vast city, he presents himself in an entirely new light. His head has been turned. He has lost sight of the early struggles of his heroes, and now revels in the brilliant pictures drawn by his imagination. How flattering to himself are these airy, short lived fabrics, and how sweet to his young ambition!
Had young Randolph been an ordinary boy of slow intellect, he would never have indulged in these beautiful dreams, which to the stupid mind would seem silly and absurd, but to him were living realities—creations to beckon him on, to encourage him in the hours of danger and to sustain him in the stern battle before him.
memories of country life—thegreeting by the way.
Did he then waste his time in what would seem wild imagination, when a more practically minded boy would have been applying for work? Yes, in the smaller sense, he idled his time away; but in the broader, he builded better than he knew.To be sure, he had lost the opportunity of securing a situation on that day—and he needed work urgently—but he had fixed uponan ideal—a standard of his own, to be the goal of all his efforts and struggles. And such an ideal was priceless to him. It would prove priceless to any boy, for without lofty aims no young man can ever hope to occupy a high position in life.
Of course he appears foolish in forgetting what he had anticipated, namely the difficulties he would in all probability experiencein finding a situation, but the fact that five thousand positions were offered to him who knew nothing of the tremendous demand for such situations entirely deluded him. Once forgetting this important point, his mind ran on and on, growing bolder and bolder as thought sped forward unrestrained in wild, hilarious delight.
What pleasure in that half hour’s thought—sweet, pure, intoxicating pleasure, finer and more delicate than any real scene in life can ever afford.
But everything has a price, and that price must many times be paid in advance. Those delightful moments passed in thinking out for himself a grand career cost young Randolph far more than he felt he could afford to pay. They cost him the opportunity of securing a position on that day, and made him sick at his own ignorance and folly. He felt ashamed of himself and disgusted at his stupidity, as he walked block after block with tired feet and heavy heart, after being coldly turned away from dozens of business houses with no encouragement whatever. He went from banking to mercantile pursuits, then to insurance, to manufacturing, and so on down, grade after grade, till he would have been glad to get any sort of position at honest labor. But none was offered to him and he found no opening of any sort.
Night was coming on. He was tired and hungry. His spirits ran low. In the post office in the early part of the day they soared to unusual height, and now they were correspondingly depressed. What should he do next? Where should he spend the night? These questions pressed him for an answer. He thought of Bob Hunter, and his cheeks flushed with shame. He would not have the newsboy know how foolish he had been to waste his time in silly speculation. Heknew the young New Yorker would question him, and he would have to hide the real cause of his failure, should he join his friend. He was fast nearing Bob’s place of business, and he decided to stop for a few moments’ reflection, and to rest his weary limbs as well. Accordingly he stepped to the inner side of the flagging and rested against the massive stone base of the Astor House.
Looking to his right Broadway extended down to the Battery, and to his left it stretched far away northward. Up this famous thoroughfare a mighty stream of humanity flowed homeward. Young Randolph watched the scene with much interest, forgetting for a time his own heavy heart. Soon, however, the question what to do with himself pressed him again for an answer. How entirely alone he felt! Of all the thousands of people passing by him, not one with a familiar face. Every one seemed absorbed in himself, and took no more notice of our country lad than if he had been a portion of the cold inanimate granite against which he stood. Herbert felt this keenly, for in the country it was so different. There every one had a kind look or a pleasant word for a fellow man to cheer him on his way.
AN EVENING WITH BOB HUNTER.
Chilly from approaching night and strengthening wind, and depressed by a disheartening sense of loneliness and a keen realization of failure on the first day of his new career, Herbert felt homesick and almost discouraged.
At length he joined the passers by, and walked quickly until opposite City Hall Park. He crossed Broadway and soon found himself at young Bob Hunter’s “place of business.” The latter was “in,” and very glad he seemed to see his new friend again. His kindly grasp of the hand and hearty welcome acted like magic upon Herbert Randolph; but his wretchedly disheartened look did not change in time to escape the keen young newsboy’s notice.
“Didn’t strike it rich today, did you?” said he, with a smile.
“No,” replied Herbert sadly.
“Didn’t find no benevolent old gentleman—them as is always looking for poor boys to help along and give ’em money and a bang up time?”
“I did not see any such philanthropist looking for me,” answered Herbert, slightly puzzled, for the newsboy’s face was seriousness itself.
“Well, that is all fired strange. I don’t see how he missed you, for they takes right to country boys.”
“I did not start out very early,” remarked Herbert doubtfully, and with heightened color.
“Then that’s how it happened, I guess,” said Bob, with a very thoughtful air. “But you must have found somebody’s pocket book——”
“What do you mean?” interrupted Herbert suspiciously.
“Mean—why what could I mean? Wasn’t it plain what I said? Wasn’t I speaking good English, I’d like to know?” said Bob, apparently injured.
“Your language was plain, to be sure, and your English was good enough,” apologized Herbert; “but I can’t see why I should find anybody’s pocket book.”
the benevolent old gentleman presses money on thecountry boy.
“Jest what I thought, but you see you don’t know the ways of New York. You will learn, though, and you will be surprised to see how easy it is to pick up a pocket book full of greenbacks and bonds—perhaps a hundred thousand dollars in any one of ’em—and then you will take it to the man what lost it, and he will give you a lots of money, maby a thousand dollars or so—’twouldn’t be much of a man as would do less than a thousand. What do you think?”
“I don’t know what to think. I cannot understand you, Bob Hunter.”
“That’s ’cause you don’t know me, and ain’t posted onwhat I’m saying. Maby I am springin’ it on you kinder fresh for the first day, though I guess you will stand it. But tell me, Vermont, about the runaway horse that you stopped.”
“The runaway horse that I stopped!” exclaimed Herbert. “You must be mad to talk in this way.”
“Mad! Well, that’s good; that’s the best thing I’ve heard of yet! Do I look like a fellow that’s mad?” and he laughed convulsively, much to the country lad’s annoyance.
“No, you do not look as if you were mad, but you certainly act as if you were,” replied the latter sharply.
“Now look a here, Vermont, this won’t do,” said Bob, very serious again. “You are jest tryin’ to fool me, but you can’t do it, Vermont, I’ll tell you that straight. Of course I don’t blame you for wantin’ to be kinder modest about it, for I s’pose it seems to you like puttin’ on airs to admit you saved their lives. But then ’tain’t puttin’ on no airs at all. Ef I was you I’d be proud to own it; other boys always owns it, and they don’t show no modesty about it the same as what you do, either. And I don’t know why they should, for it’s something to be proud of; and you know, Vermont, the funniest thing about it is that them runaways is always stopped by boys from the country jest like you. Don’t ask me why it happens so, for I don’t know myself; but all the books will tell you that it is so. And jest think, Vermont, how many lives they save! You know the coachman gets paralyzed, and the horses runs away and he tumbles off his box, and a rich lady and her daughter—they are always rich, and the daughter is always in the carriage, too—funny, ain’t it, but it’s as true as I’m alive; and the boy rushes at the horses when they are going like a cyclone, and stops ’em jest as the carriage is going to be dashed to pieces. And then the lady cries and throws herarms round the boy, and kisses him, and puts a hundred dollars in his hands, and he refuses it. Then the lady and her daughter ask him to come up to their house, and the next day her husband gets a bang up position for him, where he can make any amount of money.
“Now I call that somethin’ to be proud of, as I said before, and I don’t see no sense in your tryin’ to seem ignorant about it. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised a bit ef you would try to make out that you wasn’t anear any fire today. But that wouldn’t do, Vermont—I’ll give you a pointer on that now, so you won’t attempt no such tomfoolery with me, for no boy like you ever comes into a town like New York is and don’t save somebody from burning up—rescue ’em from a tall building when nobody else can get to ’em. And of course for doing this they get pushed right ahead into something fine, while us city fellows have to shin around lively for a livin’.
the country boy finds a wellfilled pocket book.
“I don’t knowef you saved anybody from drowning or not; I won’t say that you did, but ef you didn’t you ain’t in luck, that’s all I’ve got to say about it. So you see ’tain’t much use for you to try to deceive me, Vermont, for I know jest what’s a fair day’s work for a boy from the country—jest what’s expected of him on his first day here. Why, ef you don’t believe me (and I know you don’t by the way you look), jest get all the books that tells about country boys coming to New York, and read what they say, that’s all I ask of you, Vermont. Now come, own up and tell it straight.”
“Bob, you are altogether too funny,” laughed Herbert, now that the drift of his friend’s seemingly crazy remarks was plain to him. “How can you manage to joke so seriously, and why do you make fun of me? Because I am from the country, I suppose.”
“I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings, Vermont,” replied Bob, enjoying greatly his own good natured satire.
“No, not at all, Bob Hunter, but until I saw your joke I thought surely you were insane.”
“Well, you see, I thought you needed something to kinder knock the blues that you brought back with you tonight—’tain’t much fun to have ’em, is it? Sometimes I get ’em myself, so I know what they’re like. But now to be honest, and not fool no more, didn’t you get no show today?”
“No, not the least bit of encouragement,” replied Herbert.
“And you kept up the hunt all day?”
“Yes.”
“I ought ter told you that that warn’t no use.”
“How is that?”
“Why, don’t you see, it’s the first fellers what gets the jobs—them as gets round early.”
“And are there so many applicants for every position?”
“Are there? Well, you jest bet there are. I’ve seen more’n two hundred boys after a place, and ’twan’t nothin’ extra of a place, either.”
“But then there are thousands of places to be filled. Why, the papers were full of them.”
“Yes, and there is a good many more thousands what wants them same jobs. You never thought of that, I guess.”
Herbert admitted with flushed cheeks that he had not given that fact proper consideration.
“Well, you done well, any way, to hang on so long,” said Bob, in his off hand, comical manner. “I expected you’d get sick before this time, and steer straight for Vermont.”
“Why did you think that?”
the country boy to the rescue.
“Well, most of the country boys think they can pick up money on the streets in New York; but when they get here, and begin to hunt for it, they tumble rather spry—I mean they find they’ve been took in, and that a fellow has got to work harder, yes, I’d say so, ten times harder, here’n he does on a farm. There he can just sleep and laze round in the sun, and go in swimmin’, and all the time the stuff is just growin’ and whoopin’ her right along, like as if Iwas boss of a dozen boys, and they was all sellin’ papers and I was makin’ a profit on ’em all, and wasn’t doin’ nothin’ myself. So when these fellers find out they’ve got to knuckle down and shine shoes, why they just light out kinder lively, and make up their minds that New York ain’t much of a town no how.”
“And so you thought I would ‘light out’ too,” laughed Herbert.
“Well, I didn’t know. I told you I liked your looks, but I hain’t much faith in nobody till I know what kind of stuff a feller is made of. But if he’s got any sand in him, then I’ll bet on his winning right here in New York, and he won’t have to go back home for his bread. Well, speakin’ of bread reminds me that it’s about time to eat something and I’m all fired hungry, and you look es ef ’twould do you good to get a little somethin’ warm in your stomach. Funny, ain’t it, we can’t do nothin’ without eatin’? But we can’t, so let’s eat. Business is about over, and I don’t mind leavin’ a little early, any way.”
Herbert assented gladly to this proposition, and presently Bob took him up Chatham Street to an eating house known as the “Boss Tweed Restaurant”—a restaurant the cheapness of which recommended it, five cents being the established price for a meal.
“I s’pose you hain’t made no plans for a place to sleep yet?” said the newsboy, while eating their frugal fare.
“No,” replied Herbert. “I thought I would wait and see you before making any move in that direction. You are the only one I know in the city.”
“And ’tain’t much you know about me.”
“Very true; but from your appearance I’m satisfied to trust myself with you.”
“You’re takin’ big chances ef you do,” replied Bob, happily; “but ef you want to take the resk, why we will jest look up a room and occupy it together. I kinder think I’d like the scheme. I’ve been sleepin’ at the Newsboys’ Lodging House, but I’m tired of it. What do you say?”
at the boss tweed restaurant.
“I say yes,” replied Herbert. He was only too glad of the chance, and liked the idea of having Bob Hunter for a room mate. He thought there would be something fascinating about living with a newsboy, and learning this phase of life in a great city, especially when the newsboy was so droll as Bob Hunter had already shown himself to be.
“All right, then, it’s a go,” replied Bob, greatly pleased.
When the meal had been finished they continued up Chatham Street into the Bowery, and then turned into a side street where inexpensive rooms were offered for rent. After a little hunting they found one at a cost of one dollar a week which proved satisfactory. They immediately took possession, and went to bed very early, as Herbert was practically worn out.
AT MR. GOLDWIN’S OFFICE.
On the following morning both boys rose early and breakfasted together. Then Bob hurried away to his paper trade, and Herbert applied himself diligently to reading the “wants.” The following advertisement especially attracted his attention:
WANTED, a bright, smart American boy of about sixteen years of age; must have good education, good character, and be willing to work. Salary small, but faithful services will be rewarded with advancement.RICHARD GOLDWIN,Banker and Broker, Wall Street.
WANTED, a bright, smart American boy of about sixteen years of age; must have good education, good character, and be willing to work. Salary small, but faithful services will be rewarded with advancement.RICHARD GOLDWIN,Banker and Broker, Wall Street.
“I think I can fill those requirements,” said young Randolph to himself, thoughtfully. “For all I can see, I am as likely to be accepted by a banker as a baker or any one else in want of help. There will doubtless be a lot of applicants for the position, and so there would if the demand was for street cleaning, therefore I think I may as well take my chances with the bank as at anything else.”
Having come to this conclusion, he talked the matter over with Bob Hunter, upon whose practical sense Herbert was beginning to place a high value. The shrewd young newsboy approved of the plan, so our country lad started early for Wall Street, where the great money kings are popularly supposed to hold high carnival, and do all sorts of extraordinary things. When he arrived, however, at Richard Goldwin’s banking house,his hopes sank very low, for before him was a long line of perhaps forty or fifty boys, each of whom had come there hoping to secure the advertised position.
This crowd of young Americans comprised various grades of boys. Some were stupid, others intelligent; a few were quiet and orderly, but the majority were boisterous and rough. Squabbling was active, and taunts and jeers were so numerous, that a strange boy from a quiet country home would have hardly dared to join this motley crowd, unless he was possessed of rare courage and determination.
a glimpse of wall street.
Herbert Randolph paused for a moment when he had passed through the outer door, and beheld the spectacle before him. He wondered if he had made a mistake and entered the wrong place; but before he had time to settle this question in his own mind, one of the boys before him, who was taller and more uncivil than those about him, and seemed to be a leader among them, shouted, derisively:
“Here’s a new candidate—right from the barnyard too!”
All turned their attention at once to the object of the speaker’s ridicule, and joined him in such remarks as “potato bug,” “country,” “corn fed,” “greeny,” “boots,” and all the time they howled and jeered at the boy from the farm most unmercifully.
“You think you’ll carry off this position, maybe,” said the leader, sarcastically. “You’d better go home and raise cabbage or punkins!”
Again the crowd exploded with laughter, and as many mean things as could be thought of were said. Herbert made no reply, but instead of turning back and running away from such a crowd, as most boys would have done, he stepped forward boldly, and took his place in the line with others to await the arrival of the banker.
His face was flushed, and he showed plainly his indignation at the insolent remarks made to him. Nevertheless, this very abuse stimulated his determination to such a degree, that he was now the last boy in the world to be driven away by the insults and bullying of those about him.
His defiance was so bold, and his manner was so firm and independent, that he at once commanded the respect of the majority of the long line of applicants, though all wished he were out of the way; for they saw in him a dangerous rival for the position they sought.
A notable exception, however, to those who shared this better feeling, was the boy whom I have spoken of as the “leader,” for such he seemed to be. He was no ordinary boy, this bright, keen, New York lad, with a form of rare build, tall and straight as a young Indian. He showed in every movement, and in the manner of his speech, that his character was a positive one, and that nature had endowed him with the qualities of a leader.
herbert randolph finds himselfamong a mob of rival applicants.
These gifts he now exercised with remarkable effect upon the raw material about him, if by such a term I may characterize the peculiarly mixed crowd of boys in line.
When, however, Herbert Randolph advanced to his position with such unmistakable determination in his manner, and with firmness so distinctly showing in every muscle of his face, our young leader trembled visibly for an instant, and then the hot blood mantling his cheeks betrayed his anger.
He had endeavored to drive away the young Vermonter by jeers and bullying, but he failed in this attempt. In him he found his match—a boy quite equal to himself in determination, in the elegance of his figure and the superiority of his intellect.
The country boy lacked, however, the polish and grace of the city, and that ease and assurance that comes from association with people in large towns. But the purity of his character, a character as solid as the granite hills of his native State, was of infinitely more value to him than was all the freedom of city manner to the New York lad.
These two boys were no ordinary youths. Each of them possessed a positive and determined character. The one was bold as the other, and in intellect and the commanding qualities of their minds they were giants among boys.
The others felt this now in the case of both, as they had but a few moments before felt it regarding the one. They realized their own inferiority. The jeering and bullying ceased, and all was quiet, save the slam of the door, as new applicants now and then dropped in and joined the line. The silence became painful as the two prominent figures eyed each other. Herbert knew better than to make the first move. He waited the action of his rival, ready to defend his position.
The strange and sudden quiet of all the boys, who had but a few moments before been so noisy and insulting, gave him renewed courage. He saw, to his great relief, that he had but one mind to contend with—but one enemy to overcome. In this one’s face, however, was pictured a degree of cunning and anger that he had never seen before in all his simple life.
The evil designs in the face of the city boy momentarily became more noticeable. Why had he so suddenly stopped his derisive remarks? And why should he show his evident hatred toward our hero? Is it possible that he dare not attack him, and that he is afraid to continue the bullying further? That he feels that Herbert is his equal, and perhaps more than a match for him, seems evident; and yet he will not acknowledge himself inferior to any one, much less to this country lad.
“No, heshall notget this situation away from me,” he said determinedly to himself; and then his mind seemed bent upon some deep plot or wicked scheme.
THE CONTEST BETWEEN HERBERT AND FELIX.
Presently the inner doors of the banking house were thrown open, and a gentleman of perhaps a little more than middle age stepped lightly into the corridor, where the boys awaited his arrival. He had a kindly face, and a sharp but pleasant blue eye.
All seemed to know intuitively that he was Richard Goldwin, the banker, and consequently each one made a dashing, but somewhat comical effort to appear to good advantage.
“Good morning, boys,” said the banker, pleasantly, “I am glad to see so many of you here, and I wish I was able to give each one of you a position. I see, however, that many of you are too young for my purpose; therefore it would be useless to waste your time and mine by further examination.”
In a little time the contest had narrowed down to but two, and they were Herbert Randolph, and the boy who had so ineffectually attempted to drive him away.
“What is your name?” asked the banker of the city lad.
“My name is Felix Mortimer.”
“Felix Mortimer?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mortimer, Mortimer,” repeated Mr. Goldwin. “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. Do you live in New York?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In what part of the city?”
“In Eleventh Street, sir—on the East Side.”
“Well, you appear like a bright boy. Are you ambitious to work your way up in a solid, reliable business?”
“Yes, sir, I am; and banking is just what I would like.”
“And you are willing to work hard?”
“Yes, sir, I think I could satisfy you that I am.”
“What is your age?”
“I am seventeen years old.”
“Have you ever worked in any business house?”
“Yes, I have had two years’ experience in business.”
“You commenced rather young—so young that I am afraid your education was neglected.”
“Well, I was a good scholar in school; here is a recommendation from my teacher.”
Richard Goldwin read the letter, which purported to be signed by the principal of a well known school.
“This speaks well of you,” said the banker.
Felix looked pleased, and cast a triumphant glance at Herbert, who sat at a little distance off, anxiously awaiting his turn to be examined. He was afraid the banker might settle upon young Mortimer without even investigating his own fitness for the position.
“For what firm did you work?” asked Richard Goldwin.
“For Wormley & Jollup,” replied Felix, firmly.
“The large trunk manufacturers up Broadway?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why didn’t you remain with them?”
This question would have confused some boys, had they been in the place of Felix; but it did not affect him in theslightest degree, though the keen and practiced eye of the banker watched him closely.
“Why, don’t you remember that Wormley & Jollup had a big strike in their factory?”
“Yes, the papers printed a great deal about it.”
“Well, you see, they couldn’t get any trunks made; so business got dull in the store.”
“They wouldn’t give in to the strikers, I believe?”
“No; and the result was they had to let a lot of us go.”
“It was an unfortunate affair. But I suppose you got a recommendation from Wormley & Jollup?”
“Yes, sir,” said Felix, with all the assurance of one who was telling the truth; “there it is—signed by Mr. Jollup himself.”
The letter was highly complimentary to Felix Mortimer.
“No one could ask for a better recommendation than this,” said the banker, looking as if he thought he had found a prize in the boy before him.
Had he suspected that this very recommendation was forged, he would have been angry. Now, however, he felt quite the reverse; and decided to give Herbert a hearing more as a matter of courtesy than otherwise, for he had practically settled upon young Mortimer for the position in his banking house.
Felix saw this and could hardly restrain his happiness, as he saw pictured on the young Vermonter’s face unmistakable discomfiture.
“Well, you may be seated,” said Mr. Goldwin; “I wish to see what this young man has to say for himself before engaging any one.”
“So you came from Vermont, right from the farm?” said the banker to Herbert, after a few minutes’ conversation.
“Yes, sir,” returned young Randolph.
“And I suppose you expect to make your fortune in this city?”
“I have not got so far along as that yet, sir. I hope, however, that I shall do well here.”
“You look like a plucky lad, and those red cheeks of yours are worth a fortune. I remember well when mine were as full of rich young blood as yours are now. I was a country lad myself.”
“Then your career shows that a boy from the country may make a success.”
“Yes, that is very true. Many of our most successful men came from the farm; but I assure you, my boy, that success is not an easy thing to pick up in a big city. The chances are a hundred to one against any boy who comes here from the country. If, however, he does not succumb to temptation, and has sufficient pluck and perseverance, he can do well in this city.”
“I am quite ready to take that hundredth chance,” said Herbert, in a way that pleased the banker.
“Well, I admire your courage, young man, but now to return to business. Suppose I were to give you a situation, how could you live on three dollars a week? You say you have no means, and must earn your own living. I cannot pay a larger salary at first.”
“I am sure I can manage that all right, sir; one can do what he must do.”
“That is true; your ideas are sound there, surely. What is your age?”
“I am nearly seventeen, sir.”
“You are so strongly built, perhaps you could get a placewhere more money could be paid for your services; some place where heavy work is to be done.”
“I am not afraid of hard work, for I have always been accustomed to it; but I would much rather have a chance where there are good prospects ahead.”
“Again you are right,” said the banker, now becoming interested in the young Vermonter. “What is your education?”
“I passed through our district school, and went for several terms to the Green Mountain Academy. I have taught three terms of school.”
“Three terms! You certainly must have commenced young.”
“Yes; I was not very old. I got my first school when I was fifteen.”
“Do you write a good hand? Please come to this desk, and show me what you can do.”
Herbert complied readily with the request, and was most happy to do so, for he had spent many hours in practicing penmanship, and now wrote a beautiful hand.
Richard Goldwin was surprised when he took up the sheet of paper and ran his eye over the well formed letters.
“Mr. Mortimer, will you please show me what you can do with the pen?” said the banker.
Felix rose to his feet, and the color rose to his face. He wasn’t very powerful with the pen, and he knew it; but another matter disconcerted him. He feared, and well he might, that his writing would resemble, only too closely, that in the recommendation which he had shown to Mr. Goldwin. But he was equal to the emergency, and, to make the disguise perfect, he gave to his writing the left hand or backhand stroke. This was done at the expense of his penmanship, which, however,would not have been considered absolutely bad, had it not been compared with the gracefully and perfectly cut letters of Herbert Randolph.
The banker looked at both critically for a moment, and then, after a pause, said:
“Mr. Mortimer, I would like to speak with you alone.”
The latter followed him to the outer office.
“Your manner pleases me, young man,” said Mr. Goldwin, pleasantly, “and with one exception I see but little choice between you two boys, but that little is in your competitor’s favor.”
The color left Felix Mortimer’s face.
“I refer,” continued the banker, “to his penmanship, which you must acknowledge is far superior to your own; and a good handwriting adds much to one’s value in an office of this sort. I see you are disappointed, and I knew you would be. Do not, however, feel discouraged, as it is possible I may do something for you yet. If Mr. Randolph should prove unsatisfactory in any respect, he will not be retained permanently. You may, therefore, if you choose, run in here again in a day or two.”
Young Mortimer was greatly disappointed and even deeply chagrined, for he had supposed himself more than capable of holding his own against this unsophisticated country lad. Had he not attempted to bully him while waiting for the banker and failed, thus arousing a spirit of rivalry and hostility between young Randolph and himself, he would of course have felt differently, but now an intense hatred was kindled within him, and with burning passion he determined upon revenge.
Felix Mortimer went direct from Richard Goldwin’s banking house to the Bowery, and from there he soon found his wayto a side street, which contained many old buildings of unattractive appearance. The neighborhood was a disreputable one. Squalor was on every hand, and many individuals of unsavory reputations made this locality their headquarters. One of these was Christopher Gunwagner, a repulsive specimen of humanity, who had been in business here for several years as a “fence,” or receiver of stolen goods.
To this fence Felix directed his steps.
“Good morning, Mr. Gunwagner,” said young Mortimer, briskly.
The former eyed him sharply for a moment.
“What do you want now?” growled the fence by way of reply. “Why don’t you bring me something, as you ought to?”
Felix cut him short, and at once proceeded to business.
“I came,” said he, “to get you to help me and thereby help yourself. I’ve got a chance to get into a bank——”
“Into a bank?” interrupted Gunwagner, now interested.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“On Wall Street, in Richard Goldwin’s banking house.”
“If you don’t take it, you’re a fool. Goldwin’s, hey?” he went on; “we can make it pay us; yes, yes, we are in luck.” And he rubbed his thin hands together greedily.
“I expect to take it as soon as I can get it,” said Felix; and then he described the competitive examination between himself and the young Vermonter.
“So you want to get him out of the way, eh?”
“You have struck it right this time. That’s just what I want, and propose to do.”
“And you expect me to help you?”
“Certainly I do. To whom else should I go?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I haven’t quite got the plan yet, and want your advice. You see if I can get him out of the way for a few days, so he won’t show up, why old Goldwin will take me in his place. If I can once get in there, and remain till I get the run of things, we can have it our own way.”