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1 if Hi. ~ " "" Vjfll 
 
MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 
 
 BY 
 
 HORATIO ALGER, Jr., 
 
 AUTHOR OP "RAGGED DICK," "FAME AND FORTUNE," "FRANK'S 
 
 CAMPAIGN," " PAUL PRESCOTT'S CHARGE," " CHARLIE 
 
 CODMAN'S CRUISE," ETC. 
 
 THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO., 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, 
 
 CHICAGO, TORONTO. 
 
FAMOUS ALGER BOOKS. 
 
 RAGGED DICK SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 6 vols. 12mo. Cloth. 
 Ragged Dick. Rough and Ready. 
 
 Fame and Fortune. Ben the Luggage Boy. 
 
 Mark the Match Boy. Rufus and Rose. 
 
 TATTERED TOM SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols. 12mo. 
 Cloth. First Series. 
 Tattered Tom. Phil the Fiddler. 
 
 Paul the Peddler. Slow and Sure. 
 
 TATTERED TOM SERIES. 4 vols. 12mo. Cloth. Second Series. 
 Julius. Sam's Chance. 
 
 The Young Outlaw. The Telegraph Boy. 
 
 CAMPAIGN SERIES. By Hobatio Alger, Jr. 3 vols. 
 
 Frank's Campaign. Charlie Codman's Cruise. 
 
 Paul Prescott's Charge. 
 
 LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols. 12mo. 
 Cloth. First Series. 
 Luck and Pluck. Strong and Steady. 
 
 Sink or Swim. Strive and Succeed. 
 
 LUCKANDPLUCKSERIES. 4 vols. 12mo. Cloth. Second Series. 
 Try and Trust. Risen from the Ranks. 
 
 Bound to Rise. Herbert Carter's Legacy. 
 
 BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols. 12mo. 
 Cloth. 
 Brave and Bold. Shifting for Himself. 
 
 Jack's Ward. Wait and Hope. 
 
 PACIFIC SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols. 12mo. 
 The Young Adventurer. The Young Explorers. 
 
 The Young Miner. Ben's Nugget. 
 
 ATLANTIC SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols. 
 
 The Young Circus Rider. Hector's Inheritance. 
 
 Do and Dare. Helping Himself. 
 
 WAY TO SUCCESS SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4vols. 12mo. 
 Cloth. 
 Bob Burton. Luke Walton. 
 
 The Store Boy. Struggling Upward. 
 
 NEW WORLD SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth. 
 Digging for Gold. Facing the World. In a New World. 
 
 Other Volumes in Preparation. 
 
 Copyright by A. K. Lorinq, 1869. 
 
 Copyright, 1897, by Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 

 JAMES ALOBM, 
 
 9RII T O LUM E 
 
 18 IHICIISR?!, 
 
 OTBCTIOJTATK BBOTHaR. 
 
PEEFACE. 
 
 "Mark, the Match Boy," is the third volume 
 of the " Ragged Dick Series," and, like its prede 
 cessors, aims to describe a special phase of street 
 life in New York. While it is complete in itself, 
 several characters are introduced who have figured 
 conspicuously in the preceding volumes ; and the 
 curiosity as to their future history, which has been 
 expressed by man}' young readers, will be found to 
 be gratified in the present volume. 
 
 The author has observed with pleasure the in 
 creased public attention which has been drawn to 
 the condition of these little waifs of city life, by 
 articles in our leading magazines, and in other ways ; 
 and hopes that the result will be to strengthen and 
 assist the philanthropic efforts which are making to 
 ■escue them from their vagabond condition, and 
 
 vn 
 
VIII PREFASX. 
 
 train them up to be useful members Df society. That 
 his own efforts have been received with so large a 
 measure of public favor, not limited to the young 
 readers for whom the series is especially written, the 
 author desires to express b ; s» grateful thanks. 
 
 New York, April, 1869. 
 
MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 OB, 
 
 RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 RICHARD HUNTER AT HOME. 
 
 "Fosdick," said Richard Hunter, " what was 
 the name of that man who owed your father two 
 thousand dollars, which he never paid him?" 
 
 " Hiram Bates," answered Fosdick, in some sur- 
 prise. " What made you think of him ? " 
 
 " I thought I remembered the name. He 
 moved out West, didn't he? " 
 
 " So I heard at the time." 
 
 "Do you happen to remember where? Out 
 West is a very large place." 
 
 "I do not know exactly, but I think it was Mil- 
 Waukie." 
 
 "Indeed ! " exclaimed Richard Hunter, in visible 
 
 9 
 
10 MARK, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 excitement. "Well. Fosdick, why don't you try to 
 get the debt paid ? ' ' 
 
 " Of what use would it be ? How do I know he 
 is living in Milkaukie now ? If I should write hin 
 a letter, there isn't much chance of my ever getting 
 an answer." 
 
 " Call and see him." 
 
 " What, go out to Milwaukie on such a wild-goose 
 chase as that ? I can't think what you are driving 
 at, Dick." 
 
 " Then I'll tell you, Fosdick. Hiram Bates is 
 now in New York." 
 
 "How do you know?" asked Fosdick, with an 
 expression of mingled amazement and incredulity. 
 
 " I'll show you." 
 
 Richard Hunter pointed to the list of hotel arriv- 
 als in the " Evening Express," which he held in his 
 hand. Among the arrivals at the Astor House 
 occurred the name of Hiram Bates, from Mil- 
 waukie. 
 
 "If I am not mistaken," he said, "that is the 
 name of your father's debtor." 
 
 " I don't know but you are right," said Fosdick, 
 thoughtfully 
 
OR, RTCHAIiD HUATER's WARD. 11 
 
 " He must be prosperous if he stops at a high- 
 pficed hotel like the Astor." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so. How much good that 
 money would have done my poor father/' he added, 
 with a sigh. 
 
 " How much good it will do you, Fosdick." 
 
 Fosdick shook his head. " I would sell out my 
 chance of getting it for ten dollars," he said. 
 
 " I would buy it at that price if I wanted to make 
 money out of you ; but I don't. I advise you to 
 attend to this matter at once." 
 
 " What can I do? " asked Fosdick, who seemed 
 at a loss to understand his companion's meaning. 
 
 "There is only one thing to do," said Dick, 
 promptly. " Call on Mr. Bates this evening at the 
 hotel. Tell him who you are, and hint that you 
 should like the money." 
 
 " I haven't got your confidence, Dick. I shouldn't 
 know how to go about it. Do you really think it 
 would do any good ? He might think I was imper- 
 tinent." 
 
 " Impertinent to ask payment of a just debt ! I 
 don't see it in that light. I think I shall have to go 
 yith you." 
 
12 MARK, THR MATCB BOY J 
 
 " 1 wish you would, — that is, if you leally think 
 there is any use in going." 
 
 "You mustn't be so bashful if you want to get 
 on in the world, Fosdick. As long as there's a 
 chance of getting even a part of it, I advise you to 
 make the attempt." 
 
 " Well, Dick, I'll be guided by your advice." 
 
 " Two thousand dollars would be a pretty good 
 windfall for you." 
 
 " That's true enough, considering that I only get 
 eight dollars a week." 
 
 " I wish you got more." 
 
 v * So do I, for one particular reason." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 " I don't feel satisfied to have you pay ten dol- 
 lars a week towards our board, while I pay only six." 
 
 " Didn't you promise not to say anything mora 
 about that ? " said Dick, reproachfully. 
 
 " But I can't help thinking about it. If we had 
 stayed at our old boarding-house in Bleecker Street, 
 I could have paid my full share." 
 
 " But this is a nicer room." 
 
 ' ' Much nicer. If I only paid my half, f should 
 be glad of the chance." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 13 
 
 " Well, I'll promise you one thing If Mr. 
 ' ates pays you the two thousand dollars, you may 
 pay your half of the expense." 
 
 " Not much chance of that, Dick." 
 
 " We can tell better after calling at the Astor 
 House. Get on your coat and we'll start." 
 
 While the boys, — for the elder of the two is but 
 eighteen — are making preparations to go out, a 
 few explanations may be required by the reader. 
 Those who have read "Ragged Dick" and "Fame 
 and Fortune," — the preceding volumes of this series, 
 — will understand that less than three years before 
 Richard Hunter was an ignorant and ragged bootblack 
 about the streets, and Fosdick, though possessing a bet- 
 ter education, was in the same business. By a series 
 of upward steps, partly due to good fortune, but 
 largely to his own determination to improve, and 
 hopeful energy, Dick had now become a book-keeper 
 in the establishment of Rockwell & Cooper, on 
 Pearl Street, and possessed the confidence and good 
 wishes of the firm in a high degree. 
 
 Fosdick was two years younger, and, though an 
 excellent boy, was less confident, and not so well 
 fitted as his friend to contend with the difficulties of 
 
14 MARK, THE MATCH BOT; 
 
 life, and fight his way upward. He was employed 
 in Henderson's hat and cap store on Broadway, and 
 was at present earning a salary of eight dollars a 
 week. As the two paid sixteen dollars weekly for 
 their board, Fosdick would have had nothing left if 
 he had paid his full share. But Richard Hunter at 
 first insisted on paying eleven dollars out of the six- 
 teen, leaving his friend but five to pay, To this 
 Fosdick would not agree, and was with difficulty 
 prevailed upon at last to allow Richard to pay ten ; 
 but he had always felt a delicacy about this, although 
 he well knew how gladly his friend did it. 
 
 The room which they now occupied was situated 
 in St. Mark's Place, which forms *he eastern por- 
 tion of Eighth Street. It was a front room on the 
 third floor, and was handsomely furnished. There 
 was a thick carpet, of tasteful figure, on the floor. 
 Between the two front windows was a handsome 
 bureau, surmounted by a large mirror. There was 
 a comfortable sofa, chairs covered with hair-cloth, a 
 centre-table covered with books, crimson curtains, 
 which gave a warm and cosey look to the room when 
 lighted up in the evening, and all the accessories of 
 a well-furnished room which is used at the same 
 
OR. RICHARD BUTTER'S WARD. 15 
 
 ('me ad parlor and chamber. This, with an excellent 
 table, afforded a very agreeable home to the boys, — 
 a home which, in these days, would cost considerably 
 more, but for which, at the time of which I write, 
 sixteen dollars was a fair price. 
 
 It may be thought that, considering how recently 
 Richard Hunter had been a ragged bootblack, con- 
 tent to sleep in boxes and sheltered doorways, and 
 live at the cheapest restaurants, he had become very 
 luxurious in his tastes. Why did he not get a 
 cheaper boarding-place, and save up the difference in 
 price? No doubt this consideration will readily 
 suggest itself to the minds of some of my young 
 readers. 
 
 As Richard Hunter had a philosophy of his own 
 on this subject, I may as well explain it here. He 
 had observed that those young men who out of econ- 
 omy contented themselves with small and cheerless 
 rooms, in which there was no provision for a fire, 
 were driven in the evening to the streets, theatres, 
 and hotels, for the comfort which they could not find 
 at home. Here they felt obliged to spend money to 
 an extent of which they probably were not them- 
 selves fully aware, and in the end wasted considera- 
 
16 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 »lj more than the two or three dollars a 'week extra 
 which would have provided them with a comfortable 
 aome. But this was not all. In the roamings 
 spent outside many laid the foundation of wrong 
 habits, which eventually led to ruin or shortened 
 their lives. Thej lost all the chances of improve- 
 ment which they might have secured by study at 
 home in the long winter evenings, and which in the 
 end might have qualified them for posts of higher 
 responsibility, and with a larger compensation. 
 
 Richard Hunter was ambitious. He wanted to 
 rise to an honorable place in the community, and he 
 meant to earn it by hard study. So Fosdick and he 
 were in the habit of spending a portion of every 
 evening in improving reading or study. Occasion- 
 ally he went to some place of amusement, but he 
 enjoyed thoroughly the many evenings when, before 
 a cheerful fire, with books in their hands, his room- 
 mate and himself were adding to their stock of 
 knowledge. The boys had for over a year taken 
 lessons in French and mathematics, and were now 
 able to read the French language with considerable 
 ease. 
 
 " What's the use of moping every evening in youi 
 
OR, RICHARD HONTER*S WARD. 11 
 
 room?'' asked a young clerk who occupied a hall 
 bedroom adjoining. 
 
 " I don't call it moping. I enjoy it," was the 
 reply. 
 
 " You don't go to a place of amusement once a 
 month." 
 
 " I go as often as I like." 
 
 " Well, you're a queer chap. You pay such a 
 thundering price for board. You could go to the 
 theatre four times a week without its costing you 
 any more, if you would take a room like mine." 
 
 "I know it; but I'd rather have a nice, comfort- 
 able room to come home to." 
 
 "Are you studying for a college professor?" 
 asked the other, with a sneer. 
 
 "I don't know," said Dick, good-humoredly ; 
 "but I'm open to proposals, as the oyster remarked. 
 If you know any first-class institution that would 
 like a dignified professor, of extensive acquirements, 
 just mention me, will you ? " 
 
 So Richard Hunter kept on his way, indifferent to 
 
 the criticisms which his conduct excited in the minds 
 
 of young men of his own age. He looked farther 
 
 than they, and knew that if he wanted to succeed in 
 
 2 
 
18 MARK, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 life, and win the respect of his fellow-men, he caust 
 do something else than attend theatres, and spend big 
 evenings in billiard saloons. Fosdick, who was a 
 quiet, studious boy, fully agreed with his friend in 
 his views of life, and by his companionship did much 
 to strengthen and confirm Richard in his resolution. 
 He was less ambitious than Dick, and perhaps loved 
 study more for its own sake. 
 
 With these explanations we shall now be able to 
 start fairly in our story. 
 
OX. RiCRARD HUNTER'S WARD. 19 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AT THE ASTOR HOUSE. 
 
 The two friends started from their room about 
 seven o'clock, and walked up to Third Avenue, 
 where they jumped vn board a horse-car, and withiD 
 half an hour were landed at the foot of the City Hall 
 Park, opposite Beekman Street. From this point it 
 was necessary only to cross the street to the Astor 
 House. 
 
 The Astor House is a massive pile of gray stone , 
 and has a solid look, as if it might stand for hundreds 
 of years. When it was first erected, a little more 
 than thirty years since, it was considered far up 
 town, but now it is far down town, so rapid has been 
 the growth of the city. 
 
 Richard Hunter ascended the stone steps with a 
 firm step, but Henry Fosdick lingered behind. 
 
 " Do you think we had better go up, Dick ? " he 
 said irresolutely. 
 
20 MARK, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 'Why not?" 
 
 ' I feel awkward about it." 
 
 " There is no reason why you should. The 
 money belongs to you rightfully, as the repre 
 sentative of your father, and it is worth trying 
 for." 
 
 " I suppose you are right, but I shan't know 
 what to say." 
 
 " I'll help you alcng if I find you need it. Come 
 along." 
 
 Those who possess energy and a strong will gen- 
 erally gain their point, and it was so with Richard 
 Hunter. They entered the hotel, and, ascending 
 some stone steps, found themselves on the main floor, 
 where the reading-room, clerk's office, and dining- 
 room are located. 
 
 Dick, to adopt the familiar name by which his 
 companion addressed him, stepped up to the desk, 
 and drew towards him the book of arrivals. After 
 a brief search he found the name of "Hiram Bates, 
 Milwaukie, Wis.," towards the top of the left-hand 
 page. 
 
 "Is Mr. Bates in?" he inquired of the clerk, 
 pointing to the name. 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 21 
 
 " I will send and inquire, if you will write youi 
 name on this card." 
 
 Dick thought it would be best to send his own 
 name, as that of Fosdick might lead Mr. Bates 
 to guess the business on which they had come. 
 
 He accordingly wrote the name, 
 
 in his handsomest handwriting, and handed it to the 
 clerk. 
 
 That functionary touched a bell. The summona 
 was answered by a servant. 
 
 "James, go to No. 147, and see if Mr. Bates ia 
 in. If he is, give him this card." 
 
 The messenger departed at once, and returned 
 quickly. 
 
 "The gentleman is in, and would be glad to have 
 Mr. Hunter walk up." 
 
 " Come along, Fosdick," said Dick, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 Fosdick obeyed, feeling very neivous. Follow 
 ing the servant upstairs, they soon stood befon 
 No. 147. 
 
 James knocked. 
 
22 MARK, THE MATCH BOY', 
 
 " Come in," was heard from the inside, and the 
 two friends entered. 
 
 They found themselves in a comfortably furnished 
 room. A man of fifty-five, rather stout in build, 
 and with iron-gray hair, rose from his chair before 
 the fire, and looked rather inquiringly. He seemed 
 rather surprised to find that there were two visitors, 
 as well as at the evident youth of both. 
 
 " Mr. Hunter?" he said, inquiringly, looking 
 from Oxie to the other. 
 
 " That is my name," said Dick, promptly. 
 
 " Have I met you before? If so, my memory is 
 at fault." 
 
 " No, sir, we have never met." 
 
 " I presume you have business with me. Be 
 seated, if you please." 
 
 " First," said Dick, " let me introduce my friend 
 Henry Fosdick." 
 
 " Fosdick ! " repeated Hiram Bates, with a 3light 
 tinge of color. 
 
 "I think you knew my father," said Fosdick, 
 nervously. 
 
 " Your father was a printer, — was he not ? " in* 
 quired Mr. Bates. 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 23 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "I do remember him. Do you come from 
 him?" 
 
 Fosdick shook his head. 
 
 " He has been dead for two years," he said, 
 ladly. 
 
 ''Dead! " repeated Hiram Bates, as if shocked. 
 ,{ Indeed, I am sorry to hear it." 
 
 He spoke with evident regret, and Henry Fosdick, 
 whose feelings towards his father's debtor had not 
 been very friendly, noticed this, and was softened 
 by it. 
 
 " Did he die in poverty, may I ask ? " inquired 
 Mr. Bates, after a pause. 
 
 " He was poor," said Fosdick ; " that is, he had 
 nothing laid up ; but his wages were enough to sup- 
 port him and myself comfortably." 
 
 " Did he have any other family? " 
 
 " No, sir ; my mother died six years since, and 1 
 had no brothers or sisters." 
 
 " He left no property then? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 '* Then I suppose he was able to make no pn»rw 
 ion for you? " 
 
24 MARK, THE MATCH BOY', 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " But you probably had some relatives who came 
 forward and provided for you ? " 
 
 " No, sir; I had no relatives in New York." 
 
 "What then did you do? Excuse my questions, 
 but I have a motive in asking." 
 
 " My father died suddenly, having fallen from a 
 Brooklyn ferry-boat and drowned. He left nothing, 
 and I knew of nothing better to do than to go into 
 the streets as a boot-black." 
 
 " Surely you are not in that business now?" 
 said Mr. Bates, glancing at Fosdick's neat dress. 
 
 u No, sir; I was fortunate enough to find a 
 friend," — here Fosdick glanced at Dick, — "who 
 helped me along, and encouraged me to apply for a 
 place in a Broadway store. I have been there now for 
 a year and a half." 
 
 " What wages do you get? Excuse my curiosity, 
 but your story interests me." 
 
 " Eight dollars a week." 
 
 " And do you find you can live comfortably on 
 that?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; that is, with the assistance of my 
 friend here." 
 
OB, RICHARD HUN'* iSR 7 S WARD. 25 
 
 "I am g!o,d you have a friend who is able and 
 willing to help you." 
 
 " It is not worth mentioning," said Dick, mod- 
 estly. ' ' I have received as much help from him aa 
 he has from me." 
 
 "I see at any rate that you are good friends, and 
 a good friend is worth having. May I ask, Mr. Fos- 
 dick, whether you ever heard your father refer to me 
 in any way?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "You are aware, then, that there were some 
 money arrangements between us? " 
 
 " I have heard him say that you had two thousand 
 dollars of his, but that you failed, and that it was 
 lost." 
 
 "He informed you rightly. I will tell you 
 the particulars, if you are not already aware 
 of them." 
 
 " I should be very glad to hear them, sir. My 
 father died so suddenly that I never knew anything 
 more than that you owed him two thousand dol- 
 lars." 
 
 "Five years since," commenced Mr. Bates, "I 
 was a broker in Wall Street. As from my business 
 
26 AfAliK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 I was expected to know the best investments, some 
 persons brought me money to keep for them, and I 
 either agreed to pay them a certain rate of interest, 
 or gave them an interest in my speculations. 
 Among the persons was your father. The way 
 \n which I got acquainted with him was this : 
 Having occasion to get some prospectuses of a new 
 company printed, I went to the office with which he 
 was connected. There was some error in the print- 
 ing, and he was sent to my office to speak with me 
 about it. When our business was concluded, he 
 waited a moment, and then said, ' Mr. Bates, I have 
 saved up two thousand dollars in the last ten years, 
 but I don't know much about investments, and I 
 should consider it a favor if you wouia advise 
 me.' 
 
 " { I will do so with pleasure,' I said. 'If you 
 desire it I will take charge of it for you, and either 
 allow you six per cent, interest, or give you a share 
 of the profits I may make from investing it.' 
 
 " Your father said that he should be glad to havt 
 nic take the money for him, but he would prefer reg- 
 ular interest to uncertain profits. The next day he 
 brought the money, and put it in my hands. T* 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 27 
 
 confess the truth I was glad to have him do so, for I 
 was engaged in extensive speculations, and thought I 
 could make use of it to advantage. For a year I paid 
 him the interest regularly. Then there came a great 
 catastrophe, and I found my brilliant speculations 
 were but bubbles, which broke and left me but a 
 mere pittance, instead of the hundred thousand dol- 
 lars which I considered myself worth. Of course 
 those who had placed money in my hands suffered, and 
 among them your father. I confess that I regretted 
 his loss as much as that of any one, for I liked his 
 straightforward manner, and was touched by his evi- 
 dent confidence in me." 
 
 Mr. Bates paused a moment and then resumed : — 
 "I left New York, and went to Milwaukie. Here 
 I was obliged to begin life anew, or nearly so, for I 
 only carried a thousand dollars out with me. But I 
 have been greatly prospered since then. I took 
 warning by my past failures, and have succeeded, by 
 care and good fortune, in accumulating nearly as 
 large a fortune as the one of which I once thought 
 myself possessed. When fortune began to smile upon 
 me I thought of your father, and tried through an 
 agent to find him out. But he reported to me that 
 
28 MAIIK, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 his name was not to be found either in the New York 
 er Brooklyn Directory, and I was too busily en- 
 gaged to come on myself, and make inquiries. But 
 I am glad to find that his son is living, and that I yet 
 have it in my power to make restitution." 
 
 Fosdick could hardly believe his ears. Was he 
 after all to receive the money which he had supposed 
 irrevocably lost ? 
 
 As for Dick it is not too much to say that he felt 
 even more pleased at the prospective good fortune u\ 
 bin friend than if it had fallen to himself. 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER' S WARD. 29 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 fosdick's fortune. 
 
 Mr. Bates took from Lis pocket a memorandum 
 book, and jotted down a few figures in it. 
 
 " As nearly as I can remember," he said, "it is 
 four years since I ceased paying interest on the 
 money which your father entrusted to me. The rate 
 I agreed to pay was six per cent. How much will 
 that amount to ? " 
 
 " Principal and interest two thousand four hun- 
 dred and eighty dollars," said Dick, promptly. 
 
 Fosdick's breath was almost taken away as he 
 heard this sum mentioned. Could it be possible that 
 Mr. Bates intended to pay him as much as this? 
 Why, it would be a fortune. 
 
 "Your figures would be quite correct, Mr. Hunter/' 
 said Mr. Bates, "but for one consideration. You for- 
 get that your friend is entitled to compound interest, 
 as no interest has been paid for four years Now, as 
 
50 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 you are do doubt used to figures, I will leave you to 
 make the necessary correction." 
 
 Mr. Bates tore a leaf from his memorandum book 
 as he spoke, and handed it with a pencil to Richard 
 Hunter. 
 
 Dick made a rapid calculation, and reported two 
 thousand five hundred and twenty-four dollars. 
 
 " It seems, then, Mr. Fosdick," said Mr. Bates, 
 " that I am your debtor to a very considerable 
 amount." 
 
 "You are very kind, sir," said Fosdick ; "but I 
 shall be quite satisfied with the two thousand dollars 
 without any interest." 
 
 " Thank you for offering to relinquish the interest ; 
 but ".t is only right that I should pay it. I have had 
 thf> use of the money, and I certainly would not wish 
 to defraud you of a penny of the sum which it took 
 your father ten years of industry to accumulate. I 
 wish he were living now to see justice done his son." 
 
 " So do I," said Fosdick, earnestly. "I beg your 
 pardon, sir," he said, after a moment's pause. 
 
 "Why?" asked Mr. Bates in a tone of surprise. 
 
 "Because," said Fosdick, "I have done you in- 
 justice I thought you failed in order to make money, 
 
CVJ, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 31 
 
 and intended to cheat my father out of his savings. 
 That made me feel hard towards you." 
 
 " You were justified in feeling so," said Mr. Bates. 
 " Such cases are so common that I am not surprised 
 at your opinion of me. I ought to have explained 
 my position to your father, and promised to mako 
 restitution whenever it should be in my power. But 
 at the time I was discouraged, and could not foresee 
 the favorable turn which my affairs have since taken. 
 Now," he added, with a change of voice, "we will 
 arrange about the payment of this money." 
 
 " Do not pay it until it is convenient, Mr. Bates," 
 said Fosdick. 
 
 " Your proposal is kind, but scarcely business-like, 
 Mr. Fosdick," said Mr. Bates. " Fortunately it will 
 occasion me no inconvenience to pay you at once I 
 have not the ready money with me as you may sup- 
 pose, but I will give you a cheque for the amount 
 upon the Broadway Bank, with which I have an ac- 
 count; and it will be duly honored on presentation 
 to-morrow. You may in return make out a receipt 
 in full for the debt and interest. Wait a moment. 
 I will ring for writing materials." 
 
 These were soon brought by a servant of the hotel 
 
32 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 and Mr. Bates filled in a cheque for the sum speci- 
 fied above, while Fosdick, scarcely knowing whether 
 he was awake or dreaming, made out a receipt to 
 which he attached his name. 
 
 "Now," said Mr. Bates, "we will exchange 
 documents." 
 
 Fosdick took the cheque, and deposited it care- 
 fully in his pocket-book. 
 
 " It is possible that payment might be refused to 
 a boy like you, especially as the amount is so large. 
 At what time will you be disengaged to-mor- 
 row?" 
 
 "lam absent from the store from twelve to one 
 for dinner. " 
 
 " Very well, come to the hotel as soon as you are 
 free, and I will accompany you to the bank, and get 
 the money for you. I advise you, however, to leave 
 it there on deposit until you have a chance to 
 invest it." 
 
 " How would you advise me to invest it, sir?" 
 asked Fosdick. 
 
 " Perhaps you cannot do better than buy shares 
 of some good bank. You will then have no care ex- 
 cept to collect your dividends twice a year." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 33 
 
 st That is what I should like to do," said Fosdick. 
 1 What bank would you advise?" 
 
 " The Broadway, Park, or Bank of Commerce, 
 are all good banks. I will attend to the matter for 
 you, if you desire it." 
 
 "I should be very glad if you would, sir." 
 
 " Then that matter is settled," said Mr. Bates. 
 " I wish I could as easily settle another matter 
 which has brought me to New York at this time, 
 and which, I confess, occasions me considerable 
 perplexity." 
 
 The boys remained respectfully silent, though not 
 without curiosity as to what this matter might 
 be. 
 
 Mr. Bates seemed plunged in thought for a short 
 time. Then speaking, as if to himself, he said, in a 
 low voice, "Why should I not tell them? Per- 
 haps they may help me." 
 
 "I believe," he said, "I will take you into my 
 confidence. You may be able to render me some 
 assistance in my perplexing business." 
 
 " I shall be very glad to help you if I can," said 
 Dick. 
 
 u And I also," said Fosdick. 
 8 
 
34 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 "I have come to New York in seal zh. of mj 
 gTandson," said Mr. Bates. 
 
 " Did he run away from home ? " asked Dick. 
 
 " No, he has never lived with me. Indeed, I may 
 add that I have never seen him since he was an 
 infant/' 
 
 The boys looked surprised. 
 
 " How old is he now? " asked Fosclick. 
 ' He must be about ten years old. But I see 
 that I must give you the whole story of what is a 
 painful passage in my life, or you will be in no 
 position to help me. 
 
 " You must know, then, that twelve years since I 
 considered myself rich, and lived in a handsome 
 house up town. My wife was dead, but I had an 
 only daughter, who I believe was generally consid- 
 ered attractive, if not beautiful. I had set my heart 
 upon her making an advantageous marriage ; that is, 
 marrying a man of wealth and social position. I had 
 in my employ a clerk, of excellent business abilities, 
 and of good personal appearance, whom I sometimes 
 invited to my house when I entertained company. 
 His name was John Talbot. I never suspected that 
 tiiere was any danger of my daughter's falling in 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER? S WARD. SO 
 
 love with the young man, until one day he came to 
 me and overwhelmed mj with surprise by asking 
 her hand in marriage. 
 
 " You can imagine that I was very angry, 
 whether justly or not I will not pretend to say. I 
 dismissed the young man from my employ, and in- 
 formed him that never, under any circumstances, 
 would I consent to his marrying Irene. He was a 
 high-spirited young man, and, though he did not 
 answer me, I saw by the expression of his face that 
 he meant to persevere in his suit. 
 
 " A week later my daughter was missing. She 
 left behind a letter stating that she could not give 
 up John Talbot, and by the time I read the letter 
 she would be his wife. Two days later a Philadel- 
 phia paper was sent me containing a printed notice of 
 their marriage, and the same mail brought me a 
 joint letter from both, asking my forgiveness. 
 
 " I had no objections to John Talbot except his 
 poverty ; but my ambitious hopes were disappointed, 
 and I felt the blow severely. I returned the letter 
 to the address given, accompanied by a brief line to 
 Irene, to the effect that I disowned her, and would 
 never more acknowledge her as my daughter. 
 
86 MARK, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 11 1 saw her only once after that. Two years after 
 ehe appeared suddenly in my library, having been 
 admitted by the servant, with a child in her arms. 
 But I hardened my heart against her, and though 
 she besought my forgiveness, I refused it, and re- 
 quested her to leave the house. I cannot forgive my- 
 aelf when I think of my unfeeling severity. But it 
 is too late too redeem the past. As for as I can I 
 would like to atone for it. 
 
 " A month since I heard that both Irene and her 
 husband were dead, the latter five years since, but 
 that the ehild, a boy, is still living, probably in deep 
 poverty. He is my only descendant, and I seek to 
 find him, hoping that he may be a joy and solace to 
 me in the old age which will soon be upon me. It 
 is for the purpose of tracing him that I have come to 
 New York. When you, turning to Fosdick, referred 
 to your being compelled to resort to the streets, and 
 the hard life of a boot-black, the thought came to me 
 that my grandson may be reduced to a similar ex- 
 tremity. It would be hard indeed that he should 
 grow up ignorant, neglected, and subject to every 
 privation, when a comfortable and even luxurious 
 home awaits him, if he can only be found." 
 
On, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 37 
 
 11 What is his name? " inquired Dick. 
 
 "My impression is, that he was named after hia 
 father, John Talbot. Indeed, I am quite sure that 
 my daughter wrote me to this effect in a letter which 
 I returned after reading." 
 
 " Have you reason to think he is in New York ? " 
 
 "My information is, that his mother died here a 
 year since. It is not likely that he has been able to 
 leave the city." 
 
 " He is about ten years old? " 
 
 " I used to know most of the boot-blacks and news- 
 Doys when I was in the business," said Dick, reflect- 
 ively ; " but I cannot recall that name." 
 
 "Were you ever in the business, Mr. Hunter?' 
 asked Mr. Bates, in surprise. 
 
 "Ye?," said Richard Hunter, smiling; "I used 
 to be or e of the most ragged boot-blacks in the city. 
 Don t /ou remember my Washington coat, and Na- 
 poleon pants, Fosdick?" 
 
 " I remember them well." 
 
 " Surely that was many years ago? " 
 
 " It is not yet two years sinw I gave up blacking 
 boots." 
 
 " You surprise me Mr. Hunter," said Mr. Bates 
 
38 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 11 1 congratulate you on your advance in life. Such 
 a rise shows remarkable energy on your part.' - ' 
 
 " 1 was lucky," said Dick, modestly. "I found 
 some good friends who helped me along. But about 
 your grandson : I have quite a number of friends 
 among the street-boys, and I can inquire of them 
 whether any boy named John Talbot has joined their 
 ranks since my time." 
 
 " I shall be greatly obliged to you if you will," 
 said Mr. Bates. " But it is quite possible that cir- 
 cumstances may have led to a change of name, so 
 that it will not do to trust too much to this. Even 
 if no boy bearing that name is found, I shall feel 
 that there is this possibility in my favor." 
 
 " That is true," said Dick. "It is very common 
 for boys to change their name. Some can't remem- 
 ber whether they ever had any names, and pick 
 one out to suit themselves, or perhaps get one from 
 those they go with. There was one boy I knew 
 named ' Horace Greeley.' Then there were ' Fat 
 Jack,' 'Pickle Nose,' 'Cranky Jim,' ' Tickle-me- 
 foot,' and plenty of others.* You knew some of 
 them, didn't you, Fosdick ? " 
 
 * See sketches of the Formation of thp Newsboys' 1 oagi (g-house by 
 C. L. Brace, Secretary of the Children's Aid Society. 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 39 
 
 " I knew ' Fat Jack ' and ' Tickle-me-Foot,' " an- 
 swered Fosdick. 
 
 " This of course increases the difficulty of find- 
 ing and identifying the boy," said Mr. Bates. 
 " Here," he said, taking a card photograph from his 
 pocket, "is a picture of my daughter at the time 
 of her marriage. I have had these taken from a 
 portrait in my possession." 
 
 "Can you spare me one?" asked Dick. "It 
 may help me to find the boy." 
 
 " I will give one to each of you. I need not say 
 that I shall feel most grateful for any service you 
 may be able to render me, and will gladly reimburse 
 any expenses you may incur, besides paying you 
 liberally for your time. It will be better perhaps 
 for me to lea^e fifty dollars with each of you to de- 
 fray any expenses you may be at." 
 
 "Thank you," said Dick; " but I am well sup- 
 plied with money, and will advance whatever is need- 
 ful, and if I succeed I will hand in my bill." 
 
 Fosdick expressed himself in a similar way, 
 and after some further conversation he and Dick 
 rose to go. 
 
 " I congratulate you on your wealth, Fosdick,' 
 
40 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 said Dick, when they were outside. " You're rich- 
 er than I am now." 
 
 " I never should have got this money but for you, 
 Dick. I wish you'd take some of it." 
 
 " Well, I will. You may pay my fare home on 
 the horse-cars." 
 
 "But really I wish you would." 
 
 But this Dick positively refused to do, as might 
 have been expected. He was himself the owner of 
 two up-town lots, which he eventually sold for five 
 thousand dollars, though they only cost him one, 
 and had three hundred dollars besides in the bank. 
 He agreed, however, to let Fosdick henceforth bear 
 his share of the expenses of board, and this added 
 two dollars a week to the sum he was able to lay 
 up, 
 
OB, RICHARD H OXTER'S WARD. 41 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A DIFFICULT COMMISSION. 
 
 It need hardly be said that Fosdick was punc* 
 tual to his appointment at the Astor House on the 
 following day. 
 
 He found Mr. Bates in the reading-room, looking 
 over a Milwaukie paper. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Fosdick," he said, extend- 
 ing his hand. "I suppose your time is limited, 
 therefore it will be best for us to go at once to the 
 bank." 
 
 " You are very kind, sir, to take so much trouble 
 on my account," said Fosdick. 
 
 "We ought all to help each other," said Mr. 
 Bates. "I believe in that doctrine, though I have 
 not always lived up to it. On second thoughts," 
 he added, as they got out in front of the hotel, " if 
 you approve of my suggestions about the pur- 
 chase of bank shares, it may not be necessary to go 
 
42 MAIiK, THE MATCH BOY / 
 
 to the bank, as you can take thi3 cheque in pay* 
 ment," 
 
 " Just as jou tliink best, sir. I can depend upon 
 your judgment, as you know much more of such 
 things than I." 
 
 " Then we will go at once to the office of Mr. 
 Ferguson, a Wall Street broker, and an old friend 
 of mine. There we will give an order for some 
 bank shares." 
 
 Together the two walked down Broadway until 
 they reached Trinity Church, which fronts the 
 entrance to Wall Street. Here then they crossed 
 the street, and soon reached the office of Mr. Fer- 
 guson. 
 
 Mr. Ferguson, a pleasant-looking man with sandy 
 hair and whiskers, came forward and shook Mr. Bates 
 cordially by the hand. 
 
 " Glad to see you, Mr. Bates," he said. " Where 
 have you been for the last four years ? : ' 
 
 1 ' In Milwaukie. I see you are ai the old 
 place." 
 
 "Yes, plodding along as usual. How do you 
 like the West?" 
 
 " I have found it a good place for business, though 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 43 
 
 [ am not sure whether I like it as well to livi in as 
 New York." 
 
 " Shan't you come back to New York lome 
 time?" 
 
 Mr. Bates shook his head. 
 
 " My business ties me to Milwaukie," he raid. 
 " I doubt if I ever return." 
 
 "Who is this young man?" said the brolir, 
 looking at Fosdick. "He is not a son of yours I 
 think? " 
 
 " No; I am not fortunate enough to have a SO3 . 
 He is a young friend who wants a little businet \ 
 done in your line and, I have accordingly brough 
 him to you." 
 
 " We will do our best for him. What is it? " 
 
 " He wants to purchase twenty shares in som< 
 good city bank. I used to know all about such mat 
 ters when I lived in the city, but I am out of th* 
 way of such knowledge now." 
 
 " Twenty shares, you said?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " It happens quite oddly that a party brought in 
 
 only fifteen minutes since twenty shares in the 
 
 Bank to dispose of. It is a good bank, and 1 
 
44 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 don't know that he can do any better than take 
 them." 
 
 "Yes.it is a good bank. What interest does it 
 i&y now? " 
 
 " Eight per cent."* 
 
 " That is good. What is the market value of the 
 stock?" 
 
 " It is selling this morning at one hundred and 
 twenty." 
 
 " Twenty shares then will amount to twenty-four 
 hundred dollars." 
 
 " Precisely." 
 
 " Well, perhaps w 7 e had better take them. What 
 do you say, Mr. Fosdick ? " 
 
 "If you advise it, sir, I shall be very glad to 
 do so." 
 
 " Then the business can be accomplished at once, 
 as the party left us his signature, authorizing the 
 transfer." 
 
 The transfer was rapidly effected. The broker's 
 commission of twenty-five cents per share amounted 
 to five dollars. It was found on paying this, added 
 to the purchase money, that one hundred and nine- 
 
 * This was before the war. Now most of the National Banks in New 
 York pay ten per cent., and some even higher. 
 
OH, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 45 
 
 teen dollars remained, — the cheque being for two 
 thousand five hundred and twenty-four dollars. 
 
 The broker took the cheque, and returned thia 
 sum, which Mr. Bates handed to Fosdick. 
 
 " You may need this for a reserve fund," he said, 
 " to draw upon if needful until your dividend comes 
 due. The bank shares will pay you probably ono 
 hundred and sixty dollars per year." 
 
 " One hundred and sixty dollars ! " repeated Fos- 
 dick, in surprise. " That is a little more than three 
 dollars a week." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " It will be very acceptable, as my salary at the 
 store is not enough to pay my expenses." 
 
 "I would advise you not to break in upon your 
 capital if you can avoid it," said Mr. Bates. "By 
 and by, if your salary increases, you may be able to 
 add the interest yearly to the principal, so that 
 it may be accumulating till you are a man, wheD 
 you may find it of use in setting you up in busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I will remember that. But I can 
 hardly realize that I am really the owner of twenty 
 bank shares." 
 
46 MARK, THE MATCII BOt ; 
 
 1 ' No ctaubt it seems sudden to you. Don t lei 
 it make you extravagant. Most boys of your age 
 would need a guardian, but you have had so much 
 experience in taking care of yourself, that I think 
 you can get along without one." 
 
 " I have my friend Dick to advise me," said Fos 
 dick. 
 
 "Mr. Hunter seems quite a remarkable young 
 man," said Mr. Bates. "I can hardly believe that 
 his past history has been as he gave it." 
 
 "It is strictly true, sir. Three years ago ho 
 could not read or write." 
 
 "If he continues to display the same energy, I 
 can predict for him a prominent position in the 
 future." 
 
 "I am glad to hear you say so, sir. Dick is a 
 very dear friend of mine." 
 
 " Now, Mr. Fosdick, it is time you were thinking 
 of dinner. I believe this is your dinner hour ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " And it is nearly over. You must be my guest 
 to-day. I know of a quiet little lunch room near 
 by, wlr.ch I used to frequent some years ago when I 
 was in business on this street. We will drop in there 
 
on, F.ICHARD hunter's WARD. A'i 
 
 and 1 think you will be able to get through in 
 time." 
 
 Fosdick could not well decline the invitation, but 
 accompanied Mr. Bates to the place referred to, 
 wnere he had a better meal than he was accustomed 
 to. It was finished in time, for as the clock on 
 the city hall struck one, he reached the door of 
 Henderson's store. 
 
 Fosdick could not very well banish from his mind 
 the thoughts of his extraordinary change of fortune, 
 and I am obliged to confess that he did not discharge 
 his duties quite as faithfully as usual that afternoon. 
 T will mention one rather amusing instance of his 
 preoccupation of mind. 
 
 A lady entered tin store, leading by the hand her 
 son Edwin, a little boy of seven. 
 
 " Have you any hats that will fit my little boy? " 
 she said. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," said Fosdick, absently, and 
 brought forward a large-sized man's hat, of the kind 
 popularly known as " stove-pipe." 
 
 " How will thfe cio? " asked Fosdick. 
 
 " I don't want to wear such an ugly hat as that," 
 said Edwin, in dismay. 
 
48 MARK, THE MATCH B01 
 
 The lady looked at Fosdick as i? ohe had very 
 strong doubts of his sanity. He saw his mistake, 
 and, coloring deeply, said, in a hurried tone, "Ex- 
 cuse me: I was thinking of something else." 
 
 The next selection proved more satisfactory, and 
 Edwin went out of the store feeling quite proud of 
 his new hat. 
 
 Towards the close of the afternoon, Fosdick was 
 surprised at the entrance of Mr. Bates. He came 
 up to the counter where he was standing, and said, 
 "I am glad I have found you in. I was not quite 
 sure if this was the place where }ou were em- 
 ployed." 
 
 "I am glad to see you, sir," saiil Fosdick. 
 
 "I have just received a telegram from Mil wau- 
 kie," said Mr. Bates, "summoning me home imme- 
 diately on matters connected with business. I shall 
 not therefore be able to remain here to follow up the 
 search upon which I had entered. As you and your 
 friend have kindly offered your assistance, I am 
 going to leave the matter in your hands, and will 
 authorize you to incur any expenses you may deem 
 advisable, and I will gladly reimburse you whether 
 you succeed or not." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER' S WARD. 49 
 
 Fosdick assured him that they would spare no 
 efforts, and Mr. Bates, after briefly thanking him, 
 and giving him his address, hurried away, as he had 
 determined to start on his return home that very 
 night. 
 
50 MARK, THE MATCH BOY i 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 INTRODUCES MARK, THE MATCII BOY. 
 
 It was growing dark, though yet scarcely six o'clock, 
 for the day was one of the shortest in the year, when 
 a small boy, thinly clad, turned down Frankfort 
 Street on the corner opposite French's Hotel. He 
 had come up Nassau Street, passing the " Tribune " 
 Office and the old Tammany Hall, now superseded 
 by the substantial new " Sun " building. 
 
 He had a box of matches under his arm, of which 
 very few seemed to have been sold. He had a weary, 
 spiritless air, and walked as if cpuite tired. He had 
 been on his feet all day, and was faint with hunger, 
 having eaten nothing but an apple to sustain his 
 strength. The thought that he was near his jour- 
 ney's end did not seem to cheer him much. Whj 
 this should be so will speedily appear. 
 
 He crossed William Street, passed Gold Street, 
 and turned down Vandewater Street, loading out of 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. yl 
 
 Frankfort's Street on the left. It is in the form of a 
 short curve, connecting with that most crooked of all 
 New York avenues, Pearl Street. He paused in 
 front of a shabby house, and went upstairs. The 
 door of a room on the third floor was standing ajar. 
 He pushed it open, and entered, not without a kind 
 of shrinking. 
 
 A coarse-looking woman was seated before a scanty 
 fire. She had just thrust a bottle into her pocket 
 after taking a copious draught therefrom, and her 
 flushed face showed that this had long been a habit 
 with her. 
 
 " Well, Mark, what luck to-night ? " she said, in a 
 husky voice. 
 
 " I didn't sell much," said the boy. 
 
 " Didn't sell much? Come here," said the woman, 
 sharply. 
 
 Mark came up to her side, and she snatched the 
 box from him, angrily. 
 
 " Only three boxes gone?" she repeated. "What 
 have you been doing all day ? " 
 
 She added to the question a coarse epithet which 
 1 bhall not repeat. 
 
 " I tried to sell them, indeed I did, Mother Watson, 
 
52 MARK, TJIE MATCH BOY', 
 
 indeed I did,"' said the boy, earnestly, 'but every* 
 body had bought them already." 
 
 "You didn't try," said the woman addressed aa 
 Mother Watson "You're too lazy, that's what'a 
 the matter. You don't earn your salt. Now give 
 me the money." 
 
 Mark drew from his pocket a few pennies, and 
 handed to her. 
 
 She counted them over, and then, looking up 
 sharply, said, with a frown, " There's a penny short. 
 Where is it?" 
 
 " I was so hungry," pleaded Mark, " that I bought 
 an apple, — only a little one." 
 
 " You bought an apple, did you? " said the wom- 
 an, menacingly. " So that's the way you spend 
 my money, you little thief?" 
 
 " I was so faint and hungry," again pleaded the 
 boy. 
 
 " What business had you to be hungry? Didn't 
 y^u have some breakfast this morning?" 
 
 " I had a piece of bread." 
 
 ''That's more than you earned. You'll eat me 
 out of house and home, you little thief! But I'll 
 pay you off. I'll give you something to take away 
 
OR, RICHARU HUNTER'S WARD. 53 
 
 your appetite. You won't be hungry any more > I 
 reckon." * 
 
 She dove her flabby hand into her pocket, and 
 produced a strap, at which the boy gazed with fright- 
 ened look. 
 
 "Don't beat me, Mother Watson," he said, im- 
 ploringly. 
 
 " I'll beat the lazinessout of you," said the woman, 
 vindictively. " See if I don't." 
 
 She clutched Mark by the collar, and was about 
 to bring the strap down forcibly upon his back, ill 
 protected by his thin jacket, when a visitor entered 
 the room. 
 
 "What's the matter, Mrs. Watson?" asked the 
 intruder. 
 
 "Oh, it's you, Mrs. Flanagan?" said the woman, 
 holding the strap suspended in the air. "I'll tell you 
 what's the matter. This little thief has come home, 
 after selling only three boxes of matches the whole 
 day, and I find he's stole a penny to buy an apple 
 with. It's for that I'm goin' to beat him." 
 
 " Oh, let him alone, the poor lad," said Mrs. Flan- 
 agan, who was a warm-hearted Irish woman. " Mayb« 
 he was hungry." 
 
54 MARK, THE MATCH BOY, 
 
 " Then why didn't ho work ? Them that work can 
 eat." 
 
 " Maybe people didn't want to buy." 
 
 " Well, I can't aftbrd to keep him h+ his idleness,'' 
 said Mrs. Watson. " He may go to bed without hia 
 supper." 
 
 " If he can't sell his matches, maybe people would 
 give him something." 
 
 Mrs. Watson evidently thought favorably of this 
 suggestion, for, turning to Mark, she said, " Go 
 out again, you little thief, and mind you don't come 
 in again till you've got twenty-five cents to bring to 
 me. Do you mind that? " 
 
 Mark listened, but stood irresolute. 
 
 "I don't like to beg," he said. 
 
 "Don't like to beg!" screamed Mrs. Watson. 
 " Do you mind that, now, Mrs. Flanagan ? He's 
 too proud to beg." 
 
 u Mother told me never io beg if I could help it," 
 jaid Mark. 
 
 " Well, you can't help it," said the woman, flour- 
 ishing the strap i i a threatening manner. " Do you 
 see this ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
on, nicRARD hunter's ward. 55 
 
 " Well, you'll feel it too, if you don't do as I tell 
 you. Go out now." 
 
 " I'm so hungry," said Mark; " won't you give 
 me a piece of bread ? " 
 
 " Not a mouthful till you bring back twenty-five 
 cents. Start now, or you'll feel the strap." 
 
 The boy left the room with a slow step, and 
 wearily descended the stairs. I hope my young 
 readers will never know the hungry craving after 
 food which tormented the poor little boy as he made 
 made his way towards the street. But he had hardly 
 reached the foot of the first staircase when he heard 
 a low voice behind him, and, turning, beheld Mrs. 
 Flanagan, who had hastily followed after him. 
 
 " Are you very hungry ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, I'm faint with hunger." 
 
 "Poor boy!" she said, compassionately; "coma 
 in here a minute." 
 
 She opened the door of her own room which was 
 just at the foot of the staircase, and gently pushed 
 him in 
 
 It was a room of the same general appearance ag 
 the one above, but was much neater looking. 
 
 " Biddy Flanagan isn't the woman to let a poor 
 
56 MAJIK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 motherless child go hungry when she's a bit of bread 
 or meat by her. Here, Mark, lad, sit down, and I'll 
 soon bring you something that'll warm up your poor 
 Btomach." 
 
 She opened a cupboard, and brought out a plate 
 containing a small quantity of cold beef, and two 
 slices of bread. 
 
 " There's some better mate than you'll get of 
 Mother Watson. It's cold, but it's good." 
 
 " She never gives me any meat at all," said Mark, 
 gazing with a look of eager anticipation at the plate 
 which to his famished eye looked so inviting. 
 
 "I'll be bound she don't," said Mrs. Flanagan. 
 "Talk of you being lazy! What does she do her- 
 self but sit all day doing nothin' except drink whis- 
 key from the black bottle ! She might get washin' 
 to do, as I do, if she wanted to, but she won't work. 
 She expects you to get money enough for both of 
 you." 
 
 Meanwhile Mrs. Flanagan had poured out a cup 
 of tea from an old tin teapot that stood on the stove. 
 
 "■ There, drink that, Mark dear," she said. " It'll 
 arm you up, and you'll need it this cold night, I'm 
 thinkin'. " 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 57 
 
 The tea was not of the best quality, and the cup 
 was cracked and discolored; but to Mark it was grate- 
 ful and refreshing, and he eagerly drank it. 
 
 "Is it good?" asked the sympathizing woman, 
 observing with satisfaction the eagerness with which 
 it was drunk. 
 
 " Yes, it makes me feel "warm," said Mark. 
 
 " It's better nor the whiskey Mother "Watson 
 drinks," said Mrs. Flanagan. " It won't make your 
 nose red like hers. It would be a sight better for 
 her if she'd throw away the whiskey, and take to the 
 tea." 
 
 " You are very kind, Mrs. Flanagan," said Mark, 
 rising from the table, feeling fifty per cent, better 
 than when he sat down. 
 
 " Oh bother now, don't say a word about it ! Shure 
 you're welcome to the bit you've eaten, and the littl* 
 sup of tea. Come in again when you feel hungry 
 and Bridget Flanagan won't be the woman to seno 
 you off hungry if she's got anything in the cupboard." 
 
 " I wish Mother Watson was as good as you are,'* 
 said Mark. 
 
 "I aint so good as I might be," said Mrs. Flana- 
 gan; "but 1 wouldn't be guilty of tratin' a poor 
 
68 MARK, THE MATCH BOY, 
 
 boy as that woman trates you, more shame to 1 x ! 
 How came you with her any way ? She aint youi 
 mother, is she." 
 
 " No," said Mark, shuddering at the bare idea. 
 " My mother was a good woman, and worked hard. 
 She didn't drink whiskey. Mother was always kind 
 to me. I wish she was alive now." 
 
 "When did she die, Mark dear? " 
 
 " It's going on a year since she died. I didn't 
 know what to do, but Mother Watson told me to 
 come and live with her, and she'd take care of me." 
 
 " Sorra a bit of kindness there was in that," com- 
 mented Mrs. Flanagan. " She wanted you to take 
 care of her. Well, and what did she make you do ? " 
 
 " She sent me out to earn what I could. Some- 
 times I would run on errands, but lately I have sold 
 matches." 
 
 " la it hard work sellin' them ? " 
 
 " Sometimes I do pretty well, but some days 'it 
 Beems as if nobody wanted any. To-day I went 
 round to a great many offices, but they all had as 
 many as they wanted, and I didn't sell but three 
 boxes. I tried to sell more, indeed I did, but I 
 couldn't." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER* S WARD. 6S 
 
 11 No doubt you did, Mark, dear. It's cold you 
 must be in that thin jacket of yours this cold weather. 
 I've got a shawl you may wear if you like. You'll 
 not lose it, I know." 
 
 But Mark had a boy's natural dislike to being 
 dressed as a girl, knowing, moreover, that his appear 
 ance in the street with Mrs. Flanagan's shawl would 
 subject him to the jeers of the street boys. So he 
 declined the offer with thanks, and, buttoning up his 
 thin jacket, descended the remaining staircase, and 
 went out again into the chilling and uninviting street. 
 A chilly, drizzling rain had just set in, and this 
 made it even more dreary than it had been during 
 the day. 
 
60 
 
 MARK, THE MATCH BOJ / 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BEN GIBSON. 
 
 But it was not so much the storm or the coM 
 weather that Mark cared for. He had become used 
 to these, so far as one can become used to what is 
 very disagreeable. If after a hard day's work ho 
 had had a good home to come back to, or a kind and 
 sympathizing friend, he would have had that thought 
 to cheer him up. But Mother Watson cared nothing 
 for him, except for the money he brought her, and 
 Mark found it impossible either to cherish love or 
 respect for the coarse woman whom he generally 
 found more or less affected by whiskey. 
 
 Cold and hungry as he had been oftentimes, he had 
 always shrunk from begging. It seemed to lower 
 him in his own thoughts to ask charity of others. 
 Mother Watson had suggested it to him once or twice, 
 but had never actually commanded it before. Now 
 he was required to bring home twenty-five cents. He 
 
a 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 61 
 
 knew very well what would be the result if he failed 
 to do this. Mother Watson would apply the leather 
 strap with merciless fury, and he knew that his 
 strength was as nothing compared to hers. So, for 
 the first time in his life, he felt that he must make 
 up his mind to beg. 
 
 He retraced his steps to the head of Frankfort 
 Street, and walked slowly down Nassau Street. The 
 rain was falling, as I have said, and those Tvho could 
 remained under shelter. Besides, business hours 
 were over. The thousands who during the day 
 made the lower part of the city a busy hive had gone 
 to their homes in the upper portion of the island, or 
 across the river to Brooklyn or the towns on the 
 Jersey shore. So, however willing he might be to 
 beg, there did not seem to be much chance at pres- 
 ent. 
 
 The rain increased, and Mark in his thin clothes 
 was soon drenched to the skin. He felt damp, cold, 
 and uncomfortable. But there was no rest for him. 
 The only home he had was shut to him, unless he 
 should bring home twenty five-cents, and of this there 
 seemed very little prospect. 
 
 At the corner of Fulton Street he fell in with a 
 
62 MARK, THE MATCH BOY , 
 
 ooy of twelve, short and sturdy in frame, dressed ir 
 a coat whose tails nearly reached the sidewalk 
 Though scarcely in the fashion, it was warmer thai 
 Mark's, and the proprietor troubled himself very little 
 about the looks. 
 
 This boy, whom Mark recognized as Ben Gibson, 
 had a clay pipe in his mouth, which he seemed to be 
 smoking with evident enjoyment. 
 
 " Where you goin' ?" he asked, halting in front 
 of Mark. 
 
 " I don't know," said Mark. 
 
 " Don't know ! " repeated Ben, taking his pipe 
 from his mouth, and spitting. "Where's your 
 matches?" 
 
 " I left them at home." 
 
 " Then what'd did you come out for in this 
 storm? " 
 
 " The woman I live with won't let me come home 
 till I've brought her twenty-five cents." 
 
 " How'd you expect to get it? " 
 
 " She wants me to beg." 
 
 "That's a good way," said Ben, approvingly; 
 " when you get hold of a soft chap, or a lady 
 Them s the ones to shell out." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER' 8 WARD. 63 
 
 -'I don't like it," said Mark. "I don't want 
 
 people to think me a beggar." 
 
 "What's the odds?" said Ben, philosophic-all y. 
 " You're just the chap to make a good beggar." 
 
 " What do you mean by that, Ben ? " said Mark, 
 who was far from considering this much of a compli- 
 ment. 
 
 " Why you're a thin, pale little chap, that people 
 will pity easy. Now I aint the right cut for a beg- 
 gar. I tried it once, but it was no go." 
 
 "Why not?" asked Mark, who began to be in- 
 terested in spite of himself. 
 
 " You see," said Ben, again puffing out a volume 
 of smoke, " I look too tough, as if I could take care 
 of myself. People don't pity me. I tried it one 
 night when I was hard up. I hadn't got but six 
 cents, and I wanted to go to the Old Bowery bad. 
 feo I went up to a gent as was comin' up Wall Street 
 from the Ferry, and said, ' Won't you give a poor 
 boy a few pennies to save him from starvin' ? ' 
 
 " ' So you're almost starvin', are you, my lad ? ' 
 lays he. 
 
 " ' Yes, sir,' says I, as faint as I could. 
 
 *' 'Well, starvin' seems to agree with you,' saya 
 
6l HARK, THE MATCH BOY / 
 
 he, laugbin'. f You're the healthiest-lookin' beggar 
 T've seea in a good while.' 
 
 " I tried it again on another gent, and he told me 
 hs guessed I was lazy: that a good stout boy like me 
 ought to work. So I didn't make much beggin', and 
 had to give up goin' to the Old Bowery that night, 
 which I was precious sorry for, for there was a great 
 benefit that evenin'. Been there often ? " 
 
 " No, I never went." 
 
 "Never went to the Old Bowery!" ejaculated 
 Ben, whistling in his amazement. " Where were 
 you raised, I'd like to know ? I should think you 
 was a country greeny, I should." 
 
 " I never had a chance," said Mark, who began 
 to feel a little ashamed of the confession. 
 
 " Won't your old woman let you go ? " 
 
 " I never have any money to go." 
 
 "If I was flush I'd take you myself. It's only 
 fifteen cents," said Ben. " But I haven't got money 
 enough only for one ticket. I'm goin' to-night." 
 
 " Are you? " asked Mark, a little enviously. 
 
 "Yes, it's a good way to pass a rainy evenin'. 
 You've got a warm room to be in, let alone the play, 
 which is splendid. Now, if you could only beg fif- 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 65 
 
 te^n cents from some charitable cove, you might go 
 along of me." 
 
 "If I get any money I've got to carry it home." 
 
 " Suppose you don't, will the old woman cut up 
 rough ? ' ' 
 
 " She'll beat me with a strap," said Mark, shud- 
 dering. 
 
 ' What makes you let her do it? " demanded Ben, 
 rather disdainfully. 
 
 " I can't help it." 
 
 " She wouldn't beat me," said Ben, decidedly. 
 
 " What would you do?" asked Mark, with in- 
 terest. 
 
 " What would I do ? " retorted Ben. " Id kick, 
 and bite, and give her one for herself between the 
 eyes. That's what I'd do. She'd find me a hard 
 case, I reckon." 
 
 " It wouldn't be any use for me to try that," said 
 Mark. " She's too strong." 
 
 " It don't take much to handle you," said Ben, 
 taking a critical survey of the physical points of 
 Mark. " You're most light enough to blow away.'' 
 
 "I'm only ten years old," said Mark, apologeti- 
 cally. " I shall be bigger some time." 
 5 
 
66 mark, the match boy; 
 
 " Maybe/' said Ben. dubiously; " but you don't 
 look as if you'd ever be tough like me." 
 
 "There," he added, after a pause, "I've smoked 
 all my 'baccy. I wish I'd got some more." 
 
 " Do you like to smoke? " asked Mark. 
 
 " It warms a feller up," said Ben. " It's jest the 
 thing for a cold, wet day like this. Didn't you ever 
 try it ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " If I'd got some 'baccy here, I'd give you a 
 whiff; but I think it would make you sick the first 
 timo." 
 
 "I don't think I should like it," said Mark, who 
 had never felt any desire to smoke, though he knew 
 plenty of boys who indulged in the habit. 
 
 " That's because you don't know nothin' about 
 it," remarked Ben. " I didn't like it at first till I 
 got learned." 
 
 " Do you smoke often ? " 
 
 " Every day after I get through blackin' boots; 
 that is, when I ain't hard up, and can't raise the 
 stamps to pay for the 'Daccy. But I guess I'll be 
 goin' up to the Old Bowery. It's most time for the 
 doors to open. Where you goin' ? " 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 67 
 
 " I don't know where to go," said Mark, help- 
 lessly. 
 
 " I'll tell you where you'd better go. You won' 
 find nobody round here. Besides it aint comfortable 
 lettin' the rain fall on you and wet you through." 
 (While this conversation was going on, the boys had 
 sheltered themselves in a doorway.) " Just you go 
 down to Fulton Market. There you'll be out of the 
 wet, and you'll see plenty of people passin' through 
 when the boats come in. Maybe some of 'em will 
 give you somethin'. Then ag'in, there's the boats. 
 Some nights I sleep aboard the boats." 
 
 1 ' You do ? Will they let you ? " 
 
 " They don't notice. I just pay my two cents, 
 and go aboard, and snuggle up in a corner and go to 
 sleep. So I ride to Brooklyn and back all night. 
 That's cheaper'n the Newsboys' Lodgin' House, for 
 it only costs two cents. One night a gentleman 
 came to me, and woke me up, and said, ' We'vs got 
 to Brooklyn, my lad. If you don't get up they'll 
 carry you back again.' 
 
 " I jumped up and told him I was much obliged, 
 as I didn't know what my family would say if I 
 didn't get home by eleven o'clock. Then, just a# 
 
68 MARK, THE MATCn BOT; 
 
 soon as his back was turned, I sat down again and 
 went to sleep. It aint so bad sleepin' aboard the 
 boat, 'specially in a cold night. They keep tho 
 cabin warm, and though the seat isn't partic' laxly 
 soft its better'n bein' out in the street. If you don't 
 get your twenty-five cents, and are afraid of a lickin', 
 you'd better sleep aboard the boat." 
 
 "Perhaps I will," said Mark, to whom the idea 
 was not unwelcome, for it would at all events save 
 him for that night from the beating which would be 
 his portion if he came home without the required 
 sum. 
 
 "Well, good-night," said Ben; "I'll be goin' 
 along." 
 
 " Good-night, Ben," said Mark, " I guess I'll go 
 to Fulton Market." 
 
 Accordingly Mark turned down Fulton Street, 
 while Ben steered in the direction of Chatham Street, 
 through which it was necessary to pass in order to 
 reach the theatre, which is situated on the Bowery, 
 not far from its junction with Chatham Street. 
 
 Ben Gibson is a type of a numerous class of im- 
 provident boys, who live on from day to day, careless 
 of appearances, spending their evenings where they 
 
OH, HICHAHD HUNTER'S WARD, 69 
 
 can, at the theatre when their means admit, and 
 sometimes at gambling saloons. Not naturally bad, 
 they drift into bad habits from the force of outward 
 circumstances. They early learn to smoke or chew, 
 finding in tobacco some comfort during the cold and 
 wet days, either ignorant of or indifferent to the 
 harm which the insidious weed will do to their con- 
 stitutions. So their growth is checked, or their 
 blood is impoverished, as is shown by their pale 
 faces. 
 
 As for Ben, he was gifted with a sturdy frame and 
 an excellent constitution, and appeared as yet to ex- 
 hibit none of the baneful effects of this habit. But 
 no growing boy can smoke without ultimately being 
 affected by it, and such will no doubt be the cast 
 with Ben. 
 
70 MARK, THE MATCH BOY J 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 FULTON MARKET. 
 
 Just across from Fulton Ferry stands Fulton 
 Market. It is nearly fifty years old, having been 
 built in 1821, on ground formerly occupied by un- 
 sightly wooden buildings, which were, perhaps for- 
 tunately, swept away by fire. It covers the block 
 bounded by Fulton, South, Beekman, and Front 
 Streets, and was erected at a cost of about quarter of 
 a million of dollars. 
 
 This is the chief of the great city markets, and an 
 immense business is done here. There is hardly an 
 hour in the twenty-four in which there is an entire 
 lull in the business of the place. Some of the out- 
 side shops and booths are kept open all night, while 
 the supplies of fish, meats, and vegetables for the 
 market proper are brought at a very early hour, 
 almost before it can be called morning. 
 
 Besides the market proper the surrounding side- 
 
OH, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 71 
 
 walks are roofed over, and lined with shops and booths 
 of the most diverse character, at which almost every 
 conceivable article can be purchased. Most numer- 
 ous, perhaps, are the chief restaurants, the counters 
 loaded with cakes and pies, with a steaming vessel of 
 coffee smoking at one end. The floors are sanded, 
 and the accommodations are far from elegant or luxu- 
 rious ; but it is said that the viands are by no means 
 to be despised. Then there are fruit-stalls with tempt- 
 ing heaps of oranges, apples, and in their season the 
 fruits of summer, presided over for the most part by 
 Hid women, who scan shrewdly the faces of passers-by, 
 £nd are ready on the smallest provocation to vaunt 
 the merits of their wares. There are candy and cocoa- 
 nut cakes for those who have a sweet tooth, and 
 many a shop-boy invests in these on his way to or 
 from Brooklyn to the New York store w T here he is 
 employed ; or the father of a family, on his way to his 
 Brooklyn home, thinks of the little ones awaiting him, 
 and indulges in a purchase of what he knows will be 
 sure to be acceptable to them. 
 
 But it is not only the wants of the body that are 
 provided for at Fulton Market. On the Fulton 
 Street side may be found extensive booths, at which 
 
72 ma n a, the AiA'icn dot; 
 
 are displayed for sale a tempting array of papers, mag 
 azines, and books, as well as stationery, photograph 
 albums, etc., generally at prices twenty or thirty 
 per cent, lower than is demanded for them in the 
 more pretentious Broadway or Fulton Avenue stores. 
 
 Even at night, therefore, the outer portion of the 
 market presents a bright and cheerful shelter from 
 the inclement weather, being securely roofed over, 
 and well lighted, while some of the booths are kept 
 open, however late the hour. 
 
 Ben Gibson, therefore, was right in directing Mark 
 to Fulton Market, as probably the most comfortable 
 place to be found in the pouring rain which made the 
 thoroughfares dismal and dreary. Mark, of course, 
 had been in Fulton Market often, and saw at once 
 the wisdom of the advice. He ran down Fulton 
 Street as fast as he could, and arrived there panting 
 and wet to the skin. Uncomfortable as he was, the 
 change from the wet streets to the bright and com 
 paratively warm shelter of the market made him at 
 once more cheerful. In fact, it compared favorably 
 with the cold and uninviting room which he shared 
 with Mother Watson. 
 
 As Mark looked around him, he could not help 
 
OR, RICHARD nVNTER'S WARD. 73 
 
 wishing that he tended in one of the little restaurants 
 that looked so bright and inviting to him. Those 
 who are accustomed to lunch at Delmonico's, or at 
 some of the large and stylish hotels, or have their 
 meals served by attentive servants in brown stone 
 dwellings in the more fashionable quarters of the city, 
 would be likely to turn up their noses at his humble 
 taste, and would feel it an infliction to take a meal 
 amid such plebeian surroundings. But then Mark 
 knew nothing about the fare at Delmonico's, and was 
 far enough from living in a brown stone front, and 
 so his ideas of happiness and luxury were not very 
 exalted, or he would scarcely have envied a stout 
 butcher boy whom he saw sitting at an unpainted 
 wooden table, partaking of a repast which was more 
 abundant than choice. 
 
 But from the surrounding comfort Mark's thoughts 
 were brought back to the disagreeable business which 
 brought him here. He was to solicit charity from 
 some one of the passers-by, and with a sigh he began 
 to look about him to select some compassionate face. 
 
 " F chere was only somebody here that wanted an 
 errand done," he thought, " and would pay ma 
 twenty-five cents for doing it, I wouldn't have to beg 
 
74 MARK. THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 I'd rather work two hours for the money than beg 
 it." 
 
 But there seemed little chance of this. In the 
 busy portion of the day there might have been some 
 chance, though this would be uncertain ; but now it 
 was very improbable. If he wanted to get twen- 
 ty-five cents that night he must get it from char- 
 
 A beginning must be made, however disagreeable. 
 So Mark went up to a young man who was passing 
 along on his way to the boat, and in a shamefaced 
 manner said, "Will you give me a few pennies, 
 please? " 
 
 The young man looked good-natured, and it was 
 that which gave Mark confidence to address him. 
 
 " You want some pennies, do you ? " he said, with 
 a smile, pausing in his walk. 
 
 "If you please, sir." 
 
 " I suppose your wife and family are starv- 
 ing, eh? " 
 
 " I haven't got any wife or family, sir," said Mark. 
 
 "But you've got a sick mother, or some brothers 
 or sisters that are starving, haven't you?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTERS WAuV. 75 
 
 " Then I'm afraid you're not up to your business 
 How long have you been round begging? " 
 
 '' Never before," said Mark, rather indignantly. 
 
 " Ah, that accounts for it. You haven't learned 
 the business yet. After a few weeks you'll have a 
 sick mother starving at home. They all do, you 
 know." 
 
 "My mother is dead," said Mark ; " I shan't tell 
 a lie to get money." 
 
 " Come, you're rather a remarkable boy," said 
 the young man, who was a repoi ter on a daily paper, 
 going over to attend a meeting in Brooklyn, to write 
 an account of it to appear in one of the city dailies in 
 the morning. " I don't generally give money in 
 such cases, but I must make an exception in your 
 case." 
 
 lie drew a dime from his vest-pocket and handed 
 it to Mark. 
 
 Mark took it with a blush of mortification at the 
 necessity. 
 
 " I wouldn't beg if I could help it," he said, de- 
 siring to justify himself in the eyes of the good- 
 natured young man. 
 
 " I'm glad to hear that. Johnny." (Johnny is a 
 
76 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 common name applied to boys whose names are un- 
 known.) " It isn't a very creditable business. What 
 makes you beg, then ? " 
 
 " I shall be beaten if I don't," said Mark. 
 
 ' ' That' s bad. Who will beat y ou ? " 
 
 " Mother Watson." 
 
 " Tell Mother Watson, with my compliments, that 
 Bhe's a wicked old tyrant. I'll tell you what, my lad, 
 you must grow as fast as you can, and by and by 
 you'll get too large for that motherly old woman to 
 whip. But there goes the bell. I must be getting 
 aboard." 
 
 This was the result of Mark's first begging appeal. 
 He looked at the money, and wished he had got it in 
 any other way. If it had been the reward of an 
 hour's work he would have gazed at it with much 
 greater satisfaction. 
 
 Well, he had made a beginning. He had § >t ten 
 cents. But there still remained fifteen cent? to ob- 
 tain, and without that he did not feel safe in going 
 back. 
 
 So he looked about him for another pe^on to 
 address. This time he thought he would a&k a 
 lady. Accordingly he went up to one, mjo yi-xa 
 
OR, RICITAIW HUNTER'S WJRD. 77 
 
 walking with her son, a boy of sixteen, to judge 
 from appearance, and asked for a few pennies. 
 
 " Get out of my way, you little beggar ! " she 
 Baid, in a disagreeable tone. " Aint you ashamed 
 of yourself, going round begging, instead of earning 
 money like honest people? " 
 
 "I've been trying to earn money all day," said 
 Mark, rather indignant at this attack. 
 
 " Oh no doubt," sneered the woman. "I don't 
 think you'll hurt yourself with work." 
 
 "I was round the streets all day trying to sell 
 matches," said Mark. 
 
 " You mustn't believe what he says, mother," said 
 the boy. " They're all a set of humbugs, and will 
 lie as fast as they can talk." 
 
 "I've no doubt of it, Roswell," said Mrs. Craw- 
 ford. " Such little impostors never get anything 
 out of me. I've got other uses for my money." 
 
 Mark was a gentle, peaceful boy, but such attacks 
 naturally made him indignant. 
 
 " I am not an impostor, and I neither lie nor 
 steal," he said, looking alternately from the mother 
 tc the son. 
 
 " Oh, you're a fine young man. I've no doubt,' 5 
 
78 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 said Roswell, with a sneer. " Bat we'd bettei he 
 getting on, mother, unless you mean to stop in I al- 
 ton Market all night." 
 
 So mother and son passed on, leaving Mark with 
 a sense of mortification and injury. He would have 
 given the ten cents he had, not to have asked charity 
 of this woman who had answered him so un- 
 pleasantly. 
 
 Those of my readers who have read the two preced- 
 ing volumes of this series will recognize in Roswell 
 Crawford and his mother old acquaintances who played 
 an important part in the former stories. As, how- 
 ever, I may have some new readers, it may be as 
 well to explain that Roswell was a self-conceited 
 boy, who prided himself on being "the son of a 
 gentleman," and whose great desire was to find a 
 place where the pay would be large and the duties 
 very small. Unfortunately for his pride, his father 
 had failed in business shortly before he died, and his 
 mother had been compelled to keep a boarding-house. 
 She, too, was troubled with a pride very similar to 
 that of her son, and chafed inwardly at her position, 
 instead of reconciling herself to it, as many bettei 
 persons have done 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 7? 
 
 Roswell was not very fortunate in retaining the 
 positions he obtained, being generally averse to doing 
 anything except what he was absolutely obliged to 
 do. He had lost a situation in a dry-goods store ia 
 Sixth Avenue, because he objected to carrying bun- 
 dles, considering it beneath the dignity of a gentle- 
 man's son. Some months before he had tried to get 
 Richard Hunter discharged from his situation in the 
 hope of succeeding him in it; but this plot proved 
 utterly unsuccessful, as is fully described in "Fame 
 and Fortune." 
 
 We shall have more to do with Roswe'l Crawford 
 in the course of the present story. At present he 
 was employed in a retail bookstore ur town, on a 
 salary of six dollars a week. 
 
80 MALK, THE MATCH BOT: 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ON THE FERRY-BOAT. 
 
 Mark had made two applications for charity, 
 and still had but ten cents. The manner in which 
 Mrs. Crawford met his appeal made the business 
 seem more disagreeable than ever. Besides, he was 
 getting tired. It was not more than eight o'clock, 
 but he had been up early, and had been on his feet 
 all day. He leaned against one of the stalls, but 
 in so doing he aroused the suspicions of the vigi- 
 lant old woman who presided over it. 
 
 "Just stand away there," she said. "You're 
 watchin' for a chance to steal one of them ap- 
 ples." 
 
 "No, I'm not," said Mark, indignantly. "I 
 never steal." 
 
 " Don't tell me," said the old woman, who had a 
 hearty aversion to boys, some of whom, it must be 
 confessed, had in times past played mean tricks od 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 81 
 
 Der; "don't tell me! Them that beg \* ill steal, 
 and I see you beggin' just now." 
 
 To this Mark had no reply to make. He saw that 
 he was already classed with the young street beg- 
 gars, many of whom, as the old woman implied, 
 had no particular objection to stealing, if they got a 
 chance. Altogether he was so disgusted with his 
 new business, that he felt it impossible for him to 
 beg any more that night. But then came up the 
 consideration that this would prevent his returning 
 home. He very well knew what kind of a reception 
 Mother Watson would give him, and he had a very 
 unpleasant recollection and terror of the leather 
 strap. 
 
 But where should he go? He must pass the 
 night somewhere, and he already felt drowsy. Why 
 should he not follow Ben Gibson's suggestions, and 
 sleep on the Fulton ferry-boat ? It would only 
 cost two cents to get on board, and he might ride all 
 night. Fortunately he had more than money enough 
 for that, though he did net like to think how he came 
 by the ten cents. 
 
 When Mark had made up his mind, he passed 
 out of one of the entrances of the market, and, cross- 
 6 
 
82 MARK) THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 ing the street, presented his ten cents at the wicket, 
 where stood the fare-taker. 
 
 Without a look towards him, that functionary took 
 the money, and pushed back eight cents. These 
 Mark took, and passed round into the large room of 
 the ferry-house. 
 
 The boat was not in, but he already saw it half- 
 way across the river, speeding towards its pier. 
 
 There were a few persons waiting besides himself, 
 but the great rush of travel was diminished for a 
 short time. It would set in again about eleven 
 o'clock when those who had passed the evening at 
 some place of amusement in New York would be on 
 their way home. 
 
 Mark with the rest waited till the boat reached its 
 wharf. There was the usual bump, then the chain 
 rattled, the wheel went round, and the passengers 
 began to pour out upon the wharf. Mark passed 
 into the boat, and went at once to the " gentlemen's 
 cabin," situated on the left-hand side of the boat. 
 Generally, however, gentlemen rather unfairly crowd 
 into the ladies' cabin, sometimes compelling the 
 ladies, to whom it of right belongs, to stand, while 
 they complacently monopolize the seats. The gen 
 
OE, RICHARD HUATER'S WARD. 83 
 
 tJemen's cabin, so called, is occupied by those who 
 have a little more regard to the rights of ladies, and 
 by the smokers, who are at liberty to indulge in 
 their favorite comfort here. 
 
 When Mark entered, the air was redolent with 
 tobacco-smoke, generally emitted from clay pipes and 
 cheap cigars, and therefore not so agreeable as under 
 other circumstances it might have been. But it was 
 warm and comfortable, and that was a good deal. 
 
 In the corner Mark espied a wide seat nearly 
 double the size of an ordinary seat, and this he de- 
 cided would make the most comfortable niche for 
 him. 
 
 He settled himself down there as well as he could. 
 The seat was hard, and not so comfortable as it 
 might have been ; but then Mark was not accustomed 
 to beds of down, and he was so weary that his eyes 
 closed and he was soon in the land of dreams. 
 
 He was dimly conscious of the arrival at the 
 Brooklyn side, and the ensuing hurried exit of pas- 
 sengers from that part of the cabin in which he was , 
 but it was only a slight interruption, and when the 
 boat, having set out on its homeward trip, reached 
 the New York side, he was fast asleep. 
 
84 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 " Poor little fellow ! " thought more than one, 
 with a hast j glance at the sleeping boy. "He is 
 taking his comfort where he can." 
 
 But there was no good Samaritan to take him by 
 the hand, and inquire into his hardships, and provide 
 for his necessities, or rather there was one, and that 
 one well known to us. 
 
 Richard Hunter and his friend Henry Fosdick had 
 been to Brooklyn that evening to attend an instruct- 
 ive lecture which they had seen announced in one of 
 the daily papers. The lecture concluded at half- 
 past nine, and they took the ten o'clock boat over 
 the Fulton ferry. 
 
 They seated themselves in the first cabin, towards 
 the Brooklyn side, and did not, therefore, see Mark 
 until they passed through the other cabin on the 
 arrival of the boat at New York. 
 
 "Look there, Fosdick," said Richard Hunter. 
 " See that poor little chap asleep in the corner. 
 Doesn't it remind you of the times we used to have, 
 when we were as badly off as he ? " 
 
 " Yes, Dick, but I don't think I ever slept on a 
 ferry-boat." 
 
 " That's because you were not on the streets long 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 85 
 
 I took care of myself eight years, and more than 
 once took a cheap bed for two cents on a boat like 
 this. Most likely I've slept in that very cor- 
 ner. " 
 
 " It was a hard life, Dick." 
 
 "Yes, and a hard bed too; but there's a good 
 many that are no better off now. I always feel like 
 doing something to help along those like this little 
 chap here." 
 
 " I wonder what he is, — a boot-black ? " 
 
 "He hasn't got any brush or box with him. 
 Perhaps he's a newsboy. I think I'll give him a 
 surprise." 
 
 '•' Wake him up, do you mean ? " 
 
 " No, poor little chap ! Let him sleep. I'll put 
 fifty cents in his pocket, and when he wakes up he 
 won't know where it came from." 
 
 " That's a good idea, Dick. I'll do the same. 
 All right." 
 
 "Here's the money. Put mine in with yours. 
 Don't wake him up." 
 
 Dick walked softly up to the match-boy, and 
 gently inserted the money — one dollar — in one of 
 the pockets of his ragged vest 
 
86 MARK, THE MATCH BOY / 
 
 Mark was so fast asleep that he waa entirety 
 unconscious of the benevolent act. 
 
 " That'll make him open his eyes in the morn- 
 ing," he said. 
 
 " Unless somebody relieves him of the money 
 during his sleep." 
 
 " Not much chance of that. Pickpockets won't 
 be very apt to meddle with such a ragged little chap 
 as that, unless it's in a fit of temporary aberration of 
 mind." 
 
 "You're right, Dick. But we must hurry out 
 now, or we shall be carried back to Brooklyn." 
 
 " And so get more than our money's worth. I 
 wouldn't want to cheat the corporation so exten- 
 sively as that." 
 
 So the two friends passed out of the boat, and left 
 the match boy asleep in the cabin, quite unconscious 
 that good fortune had hovered over him, and made 
 him richer by a dollar, while he slept. 
 
 While we are waiting for him to awake, we may 
 as well follow Richard Hunter and his friend home. 
 
 Fosdick's good fortune, which we recorded in the 
 earlier chapters of this volume had made no particu- 
 lar change in their arrangements. They were 
 
O/?, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 87 
 
 already living in better style than was usual among 
 youths situated as they were. There was this differ- 
 ence, however, that whereas formerly Dick paid the 
 greater part of the joint expense it was now divided 
 equally. It will be remembered that Fosdick's 
 interest on the twenty bank shares purchased in his 
 name amounted to one hundred and sixty dollars 
 annually, and this just about enabled him to pay his 
 own way, though not leaving him a large surplus for 
 clothing and incidental expenses. It could not be 
 long, however, before his pay would be increased at 
 the store, probably by two dollars a week. Until 
 that time he could economize a little ; for upon one 
 thing he had made up his mind, — not to trench upon 
 his principal except in case of sickness or absolute 
 necessity. 
 
 The boys had not forgotten or neglected the com- 
 mission which they had undertaken for Mr. Hiram 
 Bates. They had visited, on the evening after he 
 left, the Newsboys' Lodging House, then located at 
 the corner of Fulton and Nassau Streets, in the 
 upper part of the "Sun" building, an i had consulted 
 Mr. O'Connor, the efficient superintendent, as to the 
 boy of whom they were in search. But he had no 
 
68 MA UK, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 information to supply them with. He promised to 
 Inquire among the boys who frequented the lodge, 
 as it was possible that there might be some among 
 them who might have fallen in with a boy named 
 Talbot. 
 
 Richard Hunter also sought out some of his old 
 acquaintances, who were still engaged in blacking 
 boots, or selling newspapers, and offered a reward of 
 five dollars for the discovery of a boy of ten, named 
 Talbot, or John Talbot. 
 
 As the result of this offer a red-haired boy was 
 brought round to the counting-room one day, who 
 stoutly asserted that his name was John Talbot, 
 and his guide in consequence claimed the reward. 
 Dick, however, had considerable doubt as to the 
 genuineness of this claim, and called the errand-boy, 
 known to the readers of earlier volumes, as Micky 
 Maguire. 
 
 "Micky," said Richard, "this boy says he is 
 John Talbot. Do you know him? " 
 
 "Know him!" repeated Micky; "I've knowed 
 him ever since he was so high. He's no more John 
 Talbot than I am. His name is Tim Hogan, and I'D 
 defy him to say it isn't." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER.' S WARV. 89 
 
 Tim looked guilty, and his companion gave up the 
 actempt to obtain the promised reward. He had 
 hired Tim by the promise of a dollar to say he was 
 John Talbot, hoping by the means to clear four 
 dollars for himself. 
 
 " That boy' 11 rise to a seat in the Common Coun- 
 cil if he lives long enough,'' said Dick. "He's an 
 unusually promising specimen." 
 
dO MARK, THE MATCH BOY I 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A PLEASANT DISCOVERT. 
 
 TlO night wore away, and still Mark, the match 
 boy, continued to sleep soundly in the corner of the 
 cabin whore he had established himself. One of 
 the boat hands passing through noticed him, and 
 was on the point of waking him, but, observing his 
 weary look and thin attire, refrained from an im- 
 pulse of compassion. He had a boy of about the 
 flame age, and the thought came to him that some 
 time his boy might be placed in the same situation, 
 and this warmed his heart towards the little va- 
 grant. 
 
 "I suppose I ought to wake him up," he reflect- 
 ed, " but he isn't doing any harm there, and he may 
 as well have his sleep out." 
 
 So Mark slept on, — a merciful sleep, in which 
 he forgot his poverty and friendless condition ; a 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER' S WARD. 91 
 
 sleep which brought new strength and refreshment 
 to his limbs. 
 
 When he woke up it was six o'clock in the morn- 
 ing. But it was quite dark still, for it was in 
 December, and, so far as appearances went, it might 
 have been midnight. But already sleepy men and 
 boys were on their way to the great city to their 
 daily work. Some were employed a considerable 
 distance up town, and must be at their posts at 
 seven. Others were employed in the markets and 
 must be stirring at an early hour. There were 
 keepers of street-stands, who liked to be ready for 
 the first wave in the tiie of daily travel that was to 
 sweep without interruption through the city streets 
 until late at night. So, altogether, even at this 
 early hour there was quite a number of passen- 
 gers. 
 
 Mark rubbed .his eyes, not quite sure where he 
 was, or how he got there. He half expected to hear 
 the harsh voice of Mother Watson, which usually 
 aroused him to his daily toil. But there was no 
 Mother Watson to be seen, only sleepy, gaping 
 men and boys, clad in working dresses. 
 
 Mark sat up and looked around him. 
 
92 MARK, THE MATCH BOY,' 
 
 11 Well, young chap, you've bad a nap, haven't 
 you ? " said a man at his side, who appeared, from a 
 strong smell of paint about his clothes, to be a 
 journeyman painter. 
 
 " Yes," said Mark. " Is it morning? " 
 
 "To be sure it is. What did you expect it 
 was?" 
 
 " Then I've been sleeping all night," said the 
 match boy, in surprise. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Here." 
 
 " In that corner ? " asked the painter. 
 
 " Yes," said Mark; " I came aboard last night, 
 and fell asleep, and that's the last I remember." 
 
 " It must be rather hard to the bones," said the 
 painter. "I think that I should prefer a regular 
 bed." 
 
 "I do feel rather sore," said the match boy; 
 " but I slept bully." 
 
 " A little chap like yju can curl up anywhere. 
 I don't think I could sleep very well on these seata 
 Haven't you got any home?" 
 
 " Yes," said Mark, " a sort of a home." 
 
 " Then why didn't you sleep at home? " 
 
OR, RICHARD HDN1ER S WARD. 93 
 
 " 1 knew I should get a beating if I went home 
 without twenty-five cents." 
 
 '- Well, that's hard luck. I wonder how I should 
 feel," he continued, laughing, "if my wife gave me 
 a beating when I came home short of funds." 
 
 But here the usual bump indicated the arrival of 
 the boat at the slip, and all the passengers, the 
 painter included, rose, and hurried to the edge of 
 the boat. 
 
 With the rest went Mark. He had no particular 
 object in going thus early ; but his sleep was over, 
 and there was no inducement to remain longer in tho 
 boat. 
 
 The rain was over also. The streets were still 
 wet from the effects of the quantity that had fallen, 
 but there was no prospect of any more. Mark's 
 wet clothes had dried in the warm, dry atmosphere of 
 the cabin, and he felt considerably better than on the 
 evening previous. 
 
 Now, however, he could not help wondering what 
 Mother Watson had thought of his absence. 
 
 " She'll be mad, I know," he thought. " I sup- 
 pose she'll whip me Avhen I get back." 
 
 This "ertainly was not a pleasant thought. The 
 
94 if ARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 leather strap was an old enemy of his, which he 
 dreaded, and with good reason. He was afraid that 
 he would get a more severe beating, for not having 
 returned the night before, at the hands of the angry 
 old woman. 
 
 "I wish I didn't live with Mother Watson," he 
 thought. 
 
 Straight upon this thought came another. " Why 
 should he ? " 
 
 Mother Watson had no claim upon him. Upon 
 his mother's death she had assumed the charge of 
 him, but, as it turned out, rather for her own advan- 
 tage than his. She had taken all his earnings, and 
 given him in return a share of her miserable apart- 
 ment, a crust of bread or two, daily seasoned with 
 occasional assaults with the leather strap. It had 
 never occurred to Mark before, but now for the first 
 time it dawned upon him that he had the worst of 
 the bargain. He could live more comfortably by 
 retaining his earnings, and spending them upon him- 
 self. 
 
 Mark was rather a timid, mild-mannered boy, 01 
 he would sooner ha7e rebelled against the tyranny 
 and abuse of Motner Watson. But he had had lit 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER' S WARD. 95 
 
 tie confidence in himself, and wanted somebody to 
 lean on. In selecting the old woman, who had 
 acted thus far as his guardian, he had leaned upon 
 a broken reed. The last night's experience gave 
 him a little courage. He reflected that he could 
 sleep in the Newsboys' Lodging House for five cents, 
 or on the ferry-boat again for two, while the fare at 
 his old home was hardly so sumptuous but that he 
 could obtain the same without very large expense. 
 
 So Mark thought seriously of breaking his yoke 
 and declaring himself free and independent. A 
 discovery which he made confirmed him in his half- 
 formed resolution. 
 
 He remembered that after paying his toll he had 
 eight cents left, which he had placed in his vest- 
 pocket. He thought that these would enable him to 
 get some breakfast, and drew them out. To his 
 astonishment there were two silver half-dollars 
 mingled with the coppers. Mark opened his eyes 
 wide in astonishment. Where could they have come 
 from ? Was it possible that the tollman had given 
 him them by mistake for pennies ? That could not 
 be, for two reasons : First, he remembered looking 
 at the change as it was handed him, and he knew 
 
96 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 that there were no half-dollars among them. Again, 
 the eight pennies were all there, the silver coina 
 iDaking the number ten. 
 
 It was certainly very strange and surprising, and 
 puzzled Mark not a little. We, who know all about 
 it, find the explanation very easy, but to the little 
 match boy it was an unfathomable mystery. 
 
 The surprise, however, was of an agreeable char- 
 acter. With so much money in his possession, Mark 
 felt like a man with a handsome balance at his 
 banker's, and with the usual elasticity of youth he 
 did not look forward to the time when this supply 
 would be exhausted. 
 
 " I won't go back to Mother Watson," he de- 
 termined. " She's beaten me times enough. I'll 
 take care of myself." 
 
 While these thoughts were passing through his 
 mind, he had walked up Fulton Street, and reached 
 the corner of Nassau. Here he met his friend of 
 the night before, Ben Gibson. 
 
 Ben looked rather sleepy. He had been at the 
 Old Bowery Theatre the night before until twelve 
 o'clock, and, having no money left to invest in a 
 night's lodging, he had crept into a corner cf the 
 
OR. RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 97 
 
 " Times " printing office, and slept, but had not quite 
 slept off his fatigue. 
 
 " Hallo, young 'un ! " said he. " Where did you 
 come from? " 
 
 " From Fulton Ferry," said Mark. " I slept on 
 the boat." 
 
 " Did you ? How'd you like it ? " 
 
 " Pretty good," said Mark. " It was rather 
 hard." 
 
 " How'd you make out begging ? " 
 
 " Not very well. I got ten cents." 
 
 " So you didn't dare to go home to the oIq 
 woman? " 
 
 "I shan't go home there any more," said the 
 match boy. 
 
 " Do you mean it? " 
 
 "Yes, I do." 
 
 " Bully for you ! I like your pluck. I wouldn't 
 go back and get a licking, if I were you. What'll 
 Mother Watson say ? " 
 
 " She'll be mad, I expect," said Mark. 
 
 " Keep a sharp lookout for her. I'll tell you 
 what you can do : stay near me, and if she comes 
 prowlin' round I'll manage her." 
 
AfAllK, THE MATCH BOY, 
 
 « t\ 
 
 Could you?" said Mark, quickly, who, from 
 "certain recollections, had considerable fear of his 
 stout tyrant 
 
 "You may just bet on that. What you goin' to 
 do?" 
 
 " I think I shall go and get some breakfast," said 
 Mark. 
 
 "So would I, if I had any tin; but I'm dead 
 broke, — spent my last cent goin' to the Old Bowery. 
 I'll have to wait till I've had one or two shines 
 before I can eat breakfast." 
 
 " Are you hungry ? " 
 
 "I'll bet I am." 
 
 "Because," said Mark, hesitating, "I'll lend 
 you money enough for breakfast, and you can pay 
 me when you earn it." 
 
 " You lend me money ! " exclaimed Ben, in 
 astonishment. " Why, you haven't got but eight 
 cents." 
 
 " Yes, I have," said Mark, producing the two half- 
 did lars. 
 
 " Where'd you get them ? " asked the boot-black. 
 ic unfeigned surprise, looking at Mark as if he had 
 ail at once developed into an Astor or a Stewart. 
 
OR, R1CRA11D HUNTER'S HARD. 99 
 
 " You haven't been begging this morning, have 
 you?" 
 
 " No," said the match boy, " and I don't mean U> 
 beg again if I can help it." 
 
 " Then wbere'd you get the money ? " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " Don't know ! You haven't been stealin', hare 
 you?" 
 
 Mark disclaimed the imputation indignantly. 
 
 " Then you found a pocket-book? " 
 
 "No, I didn't." 
 
 " Then where did you get the money? " 
 
 " I don't know any more than you do. When I 
 went to sleep on the boat I didn't have it, but this 
 morning when I felt in my pocket it was there." 
 
 " That's mighty queer," said Ben, whistling. 
 
 "So I think." 
 
 " It's good money, aint it? " 
 
 H Try it and see." 
 
 Ben tossed up one of the coins. It fell with 5 
 clear, ringing sound on the sidewalk. 
 
 "Yes, that's good," he said. "I just wish some- 
 body 'd treat me that way. Maybe it's the vest 
 If 'tis I'd like to buy it." 
 
LOO MAHK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 "I don't think it's that," said Mark, laughing 
 "Anyway you've got the money. I'll borrow 
 
 twenty cents of you, and we'll go and get some break* 
 
 frit." 
 
OB. BICBARD nUNTKR'S WARD. 101 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ON THE WAR PATH. 
 
 Ben led the way to a cheap restaurant, where for 
 eighteen cents each of the boys got a breakfast, which 
 to their not very fastidious tastes proved very satis- 
 factory. 
 
 " There," said Ben, with a sigh of satisfaction, &a 
 they rose from the table, "now I feel like work; I'll 
 pay up that money afore night." 
 
 "All right," said Mark. 
 
 " What are you goin' to do ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Mark, irresolutely. 
 
 " You're a match boy, - - aint you ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Whe*re's your matches ? " 
 
 " In Mother Watson's room." 
 
 " You might go and get 'em when she's out." 
 
 " No," said Mark, shaking his head, " I won't do 
 that." 
 
102 MARK, THE MATCH BOY J 
 
 "Why not? You aint afraid to go round there. 
 -- be you? " 
 
 "It isn't that, — but the matches aie hers, not 
 mine." 
 
 "What's the odds?" 
 
 " I won't take anything of hers." 
 
 " Well, you can buy some of your own, then. 
 You've got money enough." 
 
 " So I will," said Mark. " It's lucky that money 
 carae to me in my sleep." 
 
 " That's a lucky boat. I guess I'll go there and 
 sleep to-night." 
 
 Mark did as he proposed. With the money he 
 had he was able to purchase a good supply of match- 
 es, and when it became light enough he began to 
 vend them. 
 
 Hitherto he had not been very fortunate in the 
 disposal of his wares, being timid and bashful ; but 
 then he was working for Mother Watson, and ex- 
 pected to derive very little advantage for himself from 
 his labors. Now he was working for hinself, and 
 this seemed to put new spirit and courage into him. 
 Then again he felt that he had shaken off the hateful 
 thraldom in which Mother Watson had held b im, and 
 
on, RicnARD hunter's ward. 103 
 
 this gave him a hopefulness which he had not before 
 possessed. 
 
 The consequence was that at noon he found thai 
 he had earned forty cents in addition to his invest- 
 ment. At that time, too, Ben was ready to pay him 
 his loan, so that Mark found himself twenty-two 
 cents better off than he had been in the morning, hav- 
 ing a capital of a dollar and thirty cents, out of 
 which, however, he must purchase his dinner. 
 
 While he is getting on in such an encouraging 
 manner we must go back to Mother Watson. 
 
 When Mark did not return the night before she 
 grumbled considerably, but no thought of his inten- 
 tional desertion dawned upon her. Indeed, she 
 counted upon his timidity and lack of courage, know- 
 ing well that a more spirited boy would have broken 
 her chain long before. She only thought, therefore, 
 that he had not got the twenty-five cents, and did 
 not dare to come back, especially as she had forbid- 
 den him to do so. 
 
 So, determining to give him a taste of the leather 
 3trap in the morning, she went to bed, first taking a 
 fresh potation from the whiskey bottle, which was her 
 constant companion. 
 
104 MARK, THE MATCH BOY / 
 
 Late in the morning Mother Watson woke, feeling 
 as usual, at that hour of the day, cross and ancomfort- 
 able, and with a strong desire to make some one else 
 uncomfortable. But Mark, whom she usually made 
 to bear the burden of her temper, was still awaj. 
 For the first time the old woman began to feel a little 
 apprehcnsiTe that he had deserted her. This was far 
 from suiting her, as she found his earnings very con- 
 venient, and found it besides pleasant to have home- 
 body to scold. 
 
 She hastily dressed, without paying much attention 
 to her toilet. Indeed, to do Mother Watson justice, 
 her mind was far from being filled with the vanity 
 of dress, and if she erred on that subject it was in 
 the opposite extreme. 
 
 When her simple toilet was accomplished she went 
 downstairs, and knocked at Mrs. Flanagan's door. 
 
 " Come in ! " said a hearty voice. 
 
 Mrs. Flanagan was hard at work at her wash-tub, 
 and had been for a good couple of hours. She raised 
 her good-natured face as the old woman entered. 
 
 " The top of the morning to you, Mother Wat- 
 son," she said. " I hope you're in fine health this 
 morning, mum." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER' S WARD. 105 
 
 " Then you'll be disappointed," said Mrs. Watson. 
 " I've got a bad feeling at my stomach, and have it 
 most every morning." 
 
 " It's the whiskey," thought Mrs. Flanagan; but 
 she thought it best not to intimate as much, as it 
 might lead to hostilities. 
 
 " Better take a cup of tea," said she. 
 
 " I haven't got any," said the old woman. " I 
 wouldn't mind a sup if you've got som* handy." 
 
 " Sit down then," said Mrs. Flanag?u, hospitably. 
 "I've got some left from breakfast, oMy it's cold, 
 but if you'll wait a bit, I'll warm it over foi 
 you." 
 
 Nothing loth, Mother Watson sank into a chair, 
 and began to give a full account of her ivlroents to 
 her neighbor, who tried hard to sympathize ^ ith her, 
 though, knowing the cause of the ailments, aL^ foun \ 
 this rather difficult. 
 
 " Have you seen anything of my boy this room 
 ing? " she asked after a while. 
 
 " What, Mark ? " said Mrs. Flanagan. " DilV 
 he come home last night ? " 
 
 "No," said the old woman, "and he isn't hom< 
 yet. When he does come I'll give him a dose of tha 
 
106 MARK, THE MATCH BOY / 
 
 Btrap. He's a bad, lazy, shiftless boy, and worries 
 my life out." 
 
 "You're hard on the poor boy, Mother Watson. 
 You must remember he's but a wisp of a lad, and 
 hasn't much strength." 
 
 "He's strong enough," muttered Mother "Watson. 
 "It's lazy he is. Just let him come home, that's 
 all ! " 
 
 " You told him not to come home unless he had 
 twenty-five cents to bring with him." 
 
 " So I did, and why didn't he do it? " 
 
 " He couldn't get the money, it's likely, and he's 
 afraid of bein' bate." 
 
 " Well, he will be bate then, Mrs. Flanagan, you 
 may be sure of that," said the old woman, diving 
 her hand into her pocket to see that the strap was 
 safe. 
 
 " Then you're a bad, cruel woman, to bate that 
 poor motherless child," said Mrs. Flanagan, with 
 spirit. 
 
 " Say that again, Mrs. Flanagan," ejaculated 
 Mother Watson, irefully. " My hearin' isn't as 
 good as it was, and maybe I didn't hear you right." 
 
 "No wonder your hearin' isn't good," said Mrs 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 107 
 
 Flanagan, who now broke bounds completely. "I 
 shouldn't think you'd have any sense left with the 
 whiskey you drink." 
 
 "Perhaps you mean to insult me," said the old 
 woman, glaring at her hostess with one of the frowns 
 which used to send terror to the heart of poor Mark. 
 
 "Take it as you please, mum," said Mrs. Flana- 
 gan, intrepidly. "I'm entirely willin'. I've been 
 wanting to spake my mind a long while, and now I've 
 spoke it." 
 
 Mother Watson clutched the end of the strap in 
 her pocket, and eyed her hostess with a half wish that 
 it would do to treat her as she had treated Mark so 
 often ; but Mrs. Flanagan with her strong arms and 
 sturdy frame looked like an antagonist not very easily 
 overcome, and Mrs. Watson forbore, though unwil- 
 lingly. 
 
 Meanwhile the tea was beginning to emit quite a 
 savory odor, and the wily old woman thought it best 
 to change her tactics. 
 
 Accordingly she burst into tears, and, rocking 
 backward and forward, declared that she was a miser- 
 able old woman, and hadn't a friend in the world, 
 and succeeded in getting up such a display of miserv 
 
108 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 that the soft heart of Mrs. Flanagan was touch.nl. 
 and she apologized for the unpleasant personal ob- 
 servations she had made, and hoped Mother W#tson 
 would take the tea. 
 
 To this Mother Watson finally agreed, and intimat- 
 ing that she was faint, Mrs. Flanagan made some 
 toast for her, of which the cunning old woman par- 
 took with exceeding relish, notwithstanding her state 
 of unhappiness. 
 
 " Come in any time, Mother Watson," said Mrs. 
 Flanagan, " when you want a sip of tea, and I'll be 
 glad to have you take some with me." 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Flanagan; maybe I'll look in 
 once in a while. A sip of tea goes to the right spot 
 when I feel bad at my stomach." 
 
 " Must you be goin', Mother Watson ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the old woman ; " I'm goin' out on a 
 little walk, to see my sister that keeps a candy-stand 
 by the Pa^k railins. If Mark comes in, will you 
 tell him he'll find the matches upstairs ? " 
 
 This Mrs. Flanagan promised to do, and the old 
 woman went downstairs, and into the street. 
 
 But she had not stated her object quite correctly . 
 It was true that she had a sister, who was in the con- 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 109 
 
 fectionery and apple line, presiding over one of the 
 stalls beside the Park railings. But the two sisters 
 were not on very good terms, chiefly because the 
 candy merchant, who was more industrious and cor- 
 rect in her habits than her sister, declined to lend 
 money to Mother Watson, — a refusal which led to a 
 perfect coolness between them. It was not therefore 
 to see her that the old woman went out. She wanted 
 x> find Mark. She did not meap to lose her hold 
 apon hira, if there was any chance of retaining it, 
 and she therefore made up her mind to visit the 
 places where he was commonly to be found, and, when 
 found, to bring him home, by violence, if necessary. 
 So with an old plaid cloak depending from her 
 broad shoulders, and her hand grasping the strap in 
 her pocket, she made her way to the square, peering 
 about on all sides with her ferret-like eyes in the 
 bop<» of discovering the missing boy. 
 
Ill) MARK, THE MATCH £OTJ 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 mark's victory. 
 
 Meanwhile Mark, rejoicing in his new-found free* 
 dom, had started on a business walk among the storea 
 and offices at the lower part of Nassau Street, and 
 among the law and banking offices of Wall Street. 
 Fortunately for Mark there had been a rise in stocks, 
 and Wall Street was in a good-humor. So a few of 
 the crumbs from the tables of the prosperous bankers 
 and brokers fell in his way. One man, who had just 
 realized ten thousand dollars on a rise in some rail- 
 way securities, handed Mark fifty cents, but declined 
 to take any of his wares. So this was all clear 
 profit and quite a windfall for the little match boy 
 Again, in one or two cases he received double price 
 for some of his matches, and the result was that he 
 found himself by eleven o'clock the possessor of two 
 dollars and a quarter, with a few boxes of matches 
 still left. 
 
OR, RICH AH V HUNTER'S WARD. Ill 
 
 Mark could hardly realize his own good fortune. 
 Somehow it seemed a great deal more profitable aa 
 well as more agreeable to be in business for himself, 
 than to be acting as the agent of Mother Watson. 
 Mark determined that he would never go back to hei 
 unless he was actually obliged to do so. 
 
 He wanted somebody to sympathize with him in 
 his good fortune, and, as he had nearly sold out, he 
 determined to hunt up Ben Gibson, and inform him 
 of his run of luck. 
 
 Ben, as he knew, was generally to be found on 
 Nassau Street, somewhere near the corner of Spruce 
 Street. He therefore turned up Nassau Street from 
 Wall, and in five minutes he reached the business 
 stand of his friend Ben. 
 
 Ben had just finished up a job as Mark came up. 
 His patron was a young man of verdant appearance, 
 who, it was quite evident, hailed from the country. 
 He wore a blue coat with brass buttons, and a tall 
 hat in the style of ten years before, with an immense 
 top. He gazed with complacency at the fine polish 
 which Ben had imparted to his boots, — a pair of 
 etout cowhides, — and inquired with an assumption 
 of indifference : — 
 
Hi MARK, THE MaTCH BOY I 
 
 11 Well, boy, what's the tax? " 
 'Twenty-five cents," said Ben, coolly. 
 
 " Twentj-five cents ! " ejaculated the customer, 
 with a gasp of amazement. ° Come now, you'ra 
 iokin'." 
 
 '* No, I aint," said Ben. 
 
 " You don't mean to say you charge twenty-five 
 lents for five minutes' work? " 
 
 " Reg'lar price," said Ben. 
 
 " Why I don't get but twelve and a half cents an 
 hour when I work out hay in'," said the young man 
 in a tone expressive of his sense of the unfairness of 
 the comparative compensation. 
 
 " Maybe you don't have to pay a big license," 
 Baid Ben. 
 
 "A license for blackin' boots?" ejaculated the 
 countryman, in surprise. 
 
 "In course. I have to deposit five hundred dol- 
 lars, more or less, in the city treasury, before I can 
 black boots." 
 
 "Five — hundred — dollars!" repeated the cus- 
 tomer, opening his eyes wide at the information. 
 
 " In course," said Ben. " If I didn't they'd put 
 me in jail for a year." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARV. 113 
 
 ''And does he pay a license too?" asked the 
 countryman, pointing to Mark, who had just come up. 
 
 "He only has to pay two hundred and fifty dollars." 
 said Ben. " They aint so hard on him as on us." 
 
 The young man drew out his wallet reluctantly, 
 and managed to raise twenty-three cents, which he 
 handed to Ben. 
 
 "I wouldn't have had my boots blacked, if I'd 
 known the price," he said. " I could have blacked 
 'em myself at home. They didn't cost but three dol- 
 lars, and it don't pay to give twenty -five cents to 
 have 'em blacked." 
 
 "It'll make 'em last twice as long," said Ben. 
 " My blackin' is the superiorest kind, and keeps 
 boots from wearin' out." 
 
 " I havn't got the other two cents," said the young 
 man. " Aint that near enough ? " 
 
 " It'll do," said Ben, magnanimously, " seein' you 
 didn't know the price." 
 
 The victimized customer walked away, gratified to 
 have saved the two cents, but hardly reconciled to 
 have expended almost quarter of a dollar on a piece 
 of work which he might have done himself before 
 leaving home. 
 8 
 
114 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 " Well, what luck, Mark ? " said Ben. " I took 
 in that chap neat, didn't I? " 
 
 " But you didn't tell the truth," said Mark. "You 
 don't have to buy a license." 
 
 " Oh, what's the odds ? " said Ben, whose ideas on 
 the subject of truth were far from being strict. " It's 
 all fair in business. Didn't that chap open his eyes 
 when I told him about payin' five hundred dollars ? " 
 
 "I don't think it's right, Ben," said Mark, seri- 
 ously. 
 
 " Don't you go to preachin', Mark," said Ben, not 
 altogether pleased. " You've been tied to an old 
 woman's apron-string too long, — that's what's the 
 matter with you." 
 
 " Mother Watson didn't teach me the truth," said 
 Mark. " She don't care whether I tell it or not ex- 
 cept to her. It was my mother that told me I ought 
 always to tell the truth." 
 
 "Women don't know anything about business," 
 said Ben. " Nobody in business speaks the truth. 
 Do you see that sign ? " 
 
 Mark looked across the street, and saw a large 
 placard, setting forth that a stock of books and sta- 
 tionery was selling off at less than cost. 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 115 
 
 " Do you believe that ? " asked Ben. 
 
 " Perhaps it's true," said Mark. 
 
 " Then you're jolly green, that's all I've got to 
 §ay," said Ben. " But you haven't told me how 
 much you've made." 
 
 " See here," said Mark, and he drew out his stock 
 of money. 
 
 " Whew ! " whistled Ben, in amazement. " You'r© 
 in luck. I guess you've been speculatin' on youi 
 license too." 
 
 " No," said Mark ; " one gentleman gave me fifty 
 cents, and two others paid me double price." 
 
 "Why, you're gettin' rich ! " said Ben. " Aint 
 you glad you've left the old woman ? " 
 
 But just then Mark lifted up his eyes, and saw a 
 sight that blanched his cheek. There, bearing down 
 upon him, and already but a few feet distant, was 
 Mother Watson ! She was getting over the ground 
 as fast as her stoutness would allow. She had al- 
 ready caught sight of Mark, and her inflamed eyes 
 were sparkling with triumphant joy. Mark saw 
 with terror that her hand was already feeling in the 
 pocket where she kept the leather strap. Much aa 
 he always feared the strap, the idea of having it ap 
 
116 MARK, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 plied to him in the public street made it even mora 
 distasteful. 
 
 "What shall I do, Ben?" he said, clutching the 
 arm of his companion. 
 
 "What are you afraid of? Do you see a copp 
 after you? " 
 
 A " copp " is the street-boy's name for a police- 
 man. 
 
 •' No," said Mark ; " there's Mother Watson com- 
 ing after me. Don't you see her ? " 
 
 " That's Mother Watson, is it? " asked Ben, sur- 
 veying the old body with a critical eye. " She's a 
 beauty, she is ! " 
 
 " What shall I do, Ben ? She'll beat me." 
 
 " No, she won't," said Ben. " You just keep quiet, 
 and leave her to me. Don't be afraid. She shan't 
 touch you." 
 
 " She might strike you," said Mark, apprehen- 
 iively. 
 
 "She'd better not!" said Ben, very decidedly ; 
 " not unless she wants to be landed in the middle of 
 next week at very short notice." 
 
 By this time Mother Watson came up, puffing and 
 panting with the extraordinary efforts she had made 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 117 
 
 She could not speak at first, but stood and glared at 
 the match boy in a vindictive way. 
 
 " What's the matter with you, old lady? " asked 
 Ben, coolly. "You aint took sick, be you? I'd 
 offer to support your delicate form, but I'm afraid 
 you'd be too much for me." 
 
 " What do you mean by runnin' away from home, 
 you little thief?" said the old woman, at length 
 regaining her breath. Of course her remark was 
 addressed to Mark. 
 
 " You're very polite, old lady," said Ben; " but 
 I've adopted that boy, and he's goin' to live with me 
 now." 
 
 "I aint speakin' to you, you vagabone ! " said 
 Mother Watson, " so you needn't give me no more of 
 your impertinence. I'm a-speakin' to him." 
 
 "I'm not going to live with you any more/' said 
 Mark, gaining a little courage from the coolness of 
 his friend, the boot-black. 
 
 "Aint a goin' to live with me? " gasped the old 
 W3man, who could hardly believe she heard aright 
 '• Come right away, sir, or I'll drag you home." 
 
 " Don't you stir, Mark," said Ben. 
 
 Mother Watson drew out her strap, and tried t« 
 
118 MARK, THE MATCH BOY / 
 
 get at the match boy, but Ben put himself persist- 
 ently in her way. 
 
 " Clear out, you vagabone ! " said the old lady. 
 '' or I'll give you something to make you quiet." 
 
 "You'd better keep quiet yourself," said Ben, not 
 in the least frightened. "Don't you be afraid, 
 Mark. If she kicks up a rumpus, I'll give her over 
 to a copp. Hell settle her." 
 
 Mother Watson by this time was very much in- 
 censed. She pulled out her strap, and tried to get 
 at Mark, but the boot-black foiled her efforts con- 
 stantly. 
 
 Carried away with anger, she struck Ben with the 
 strap. 
 
 " Look here, old lady," said Ben, " that's goin' a 
 little too far. You won't use that strap again; " and 
 with a dexterous and vigorous grasp he pulled it out 
 of her hand. 
 
 "Give me that strap, you vagabone ! " screamed 
 the old woman, furiously. 
 
 "Look here, old lady, what are you up to?" 
 demanded the voice of one having authority. 
 
 Mother Watson, turning round, saw an object fof 
 which she never had much partiality, — a policeman 
 
OR, RICIIARD HUNTER'S WARD. 119 
 
 " sir," said she, bursting into maudlin tears, 
 M it's iny bad boy that I want to come home, and he 
 won't come.'' 
 
 "Which is your boy, — that one?" asked the 
 policeman, pointing to Bon Gibson. 
 
 " No, not that vagabone ! " said the old woman, 
 spitefully. ''I wouldn't own him. It's that othei 
 boy." 
 
 " Do you belong to her? " asked the officer, ad- 
 dressing Mark. 
 
 " No, sir," said the match boy. 
 
 "He does," vociferated the old woman. 
 
 " Is^he your son? " 
 
 " No," she said, after a moment's hesitation. 
 
 " Is he any relation of yours ? " 
 
 "Yes, he's my nephew," said Mother Watson, 
 making up her mind to a falsehood as the only means 
 of recovering Mark. 
 
 " Is this true ? " asked the officer. 
 
 "No, it isn't." said Mark. "She's no relation 
 to me, but when my mother died she offered to take 
 care of me. Instead of that she's half starved me, 
 and beaten me with a strap when I didn't bring 
 home as much money as she wanted." 
 
120 MARE, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 " Then you don't want to go back with her ?" 
 
 " No, I'm going to take care of myself." 
 
 c< Is there anybody that will prove the truth o! 
 what you say ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes," said Mark, "I'll call Mrs. Flanagan." 
 
 " Who is she ? " 
 
 " She lives in the same house with us." 
 
 " Shall he call her, or will you give him up?' 
 asked the officer. " By the way, I think you're the 
 same woman I saw drunk in the street last week." 
 
 Mother Watson took alarm at this remark, and, 
 muttering that it was hard upon a poor widder woman 
 to take her only nephew from her, shuffled off, leav- 
 ing Mark and Ben in full possession of the field, with 
 the terrible strap thrown in as a trophy of the vic- 
 tory they had won. 
 
 "I know her of old," said the policeman. "1 
 guess youll do as well without her as with her." 
 
 Satisfied that there would be no more trouble, he 
 resumed his walk, and Mark felt that now in truth 
 he was free and independent. 
 
 As Mother Watson will not reappear in this 
 story, it may bo said that only a fortnight later she 
 was arrested for an assault upon her sister, the pro- 
 
OR. RICHARD HUNTER' S WARD. 121 
 
 prietor of the apple-stand, from whom she had en- 
 deavored in vain to extort a loan, and was sentenced 
 to the island for a period of three months, durii^ 
 which she ceased to grace metropolitan society. 
 
i-' 2 MA UK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE NEWSBOYS' LODGING HOUSB. 
 
 WnEN Mother Watson had turned the oorner, 
 Mark breathed a sigh of relief. 
 
 " Don : t you think she'll come back again? " he 
 asked anxiously of Ben Gibson. 
 
 " No," said Ben, "she's scared of the copp. If 
 she ever catches you alone, and tries to come any of 
 her games, just call a copp, and she'll be in a hurry 
 to leave." 
 
 " Well," said Mark, " I guess I'll try to sell the 
 rest of my matches. I haven't got but a few." 
 
 " All right; I'll try for another shine, and then 
 we'll go and have some dinner. I'd like to get hold 
 of another greeny." 
 
 Mark started with his few remaining matches. 
 The feeling that he was his own master, and had a 
 little hoard of money for present expenses, gave him 
 courage, and he was no longer deterred by his usual 
 
OR. RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 123 
 
 nrnidi y. In an hour he had succeeded in getting 
 rid of \11 his matches, and he was now the possessor 
 of tw( dollars and seventy-five cents, including the 
 money Ben Gibson owed him. Ben also was lucky 
 enough to get two ten-cent customers, which helped 
 his rec ipts by twenty cents. Ben, it may be re 
 marked was not an advocate of the one-price system. 
 He bla' <ed boots for five cents when he could get no 
 more. When he thought there was a reasonable 
 prosper- of getting ten cents, that was his price. 
 Sometimes, as in the case of the young man from the 
 rural districts, he advanced his fee to twenty-five 
 tents. I don't approve Ben's system for my part. 
 [ think it savors considerably of sharp practice, and 
 lhat fair prices in the long run are the best for all 
 parties. 
 
 The boys met again at one o'clock, and adjourned 
 to a cheap underground restaurant on Nassau Street, 
 where they obtained what seemed to them a luxu- 
 rious meal of beefsteak, with a potato, a small plate 
 of bread, and a cup of what went by the name of 
 coffee. The steak was not quite up to the samp 
 article at Delmonico's, and there might be somp 
 reasonable doubts as to whether the coffee was a gen- 
 
124 MARK, TJ1E MATCH DOT; 
 
 nine article ; but as neither of the boys knew the dif- 
 ference, we may quote Ben's familiar phrase, and 
 %y, "What's the odds?" 
 
 Indeed, the free and easy manner in which Ben 
 threw himself back in his chair, and the condescend- 
 ing manner in which he assured the waiter that the 
 Bteak was " a prime article," could hardly have been 
 surpassed in the most aristocratic circles. 
 
 "Well, Mark, have you had enough?" asked 
 Ben. 
 
 "Yes," said Mark. 
 
 "Well, I haven't," said Ben. "I guess I'll 
 have some puddin'. Look here, Johnny," to the 
 colored waiter, "just bring a feller a plate of apple 
 dump with both kinds of sauce." 
 
 After giving this liberal order Ben tilted his chair 
 back, and began to pick his teeth with his fork. He 
 devoted himself with assiduity to the consumption of 
 the pudding, and concluded his expensive repast by 
 the purchase of a two-cent cigar, with which he 
 ancended to the street. 
 
 " Better have a cigar, Mark," he said. 
 
 " No, thank you," said the match boy. " I thinlf 
 I'd rather not." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 125 
 
 1 Oh, you're feared of being sick. You'll come to 
 it in time. All business men smoke." 
 
 It is unnecessary to dwell upon the events of the 
 afternoon. Mark was satisfied with the result of hia 
 morning's work, and waited about with Ben till the 
 close of the afternoon, when the question came up, 
 as to where the night should be passed. 
 
 " [ guess we'd better go to the Lodge," said Ben 
 ''Were you ever there ? " 
 
 " No," said Mark. 
 
 " Well, come along. They'll give us a jolly bed, 
 all for six cents, and there's a good, warm room to 
 stay in. Then we can get breakfast in the mornin' 
 for six cents more." 
 
 " All right, " said Mark. " We'll go." 
 
 The down-town Newsboys' Lodging House was at 
 that time located at the corner of Fulton and Nassau 
 Streets. It occupied the fifth and sixth stories of 
 the building then known as the " San "building, owned 
 by Moses S. Beach, the publisher of that journal. 
 In the year 1868 circumstances rendered it expedi- 
 dient to remove the Lodfre to a building in Park 
 Place It is to be hoped that at some day not far 
 distant the Children's Aid Society, who carry on thia 
 
126 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 beneficent institution, will be able to erect a building 
 of their own in some eligible locality, which can be 
 permanently devoted to a purpose so praiseworthy. 
 
 Ben and Mark soon reached the entrance to the 
 Lodge on Fulton Street. They ascended several 
 flights of narrow stairs till they reached the top 
 story. Then, opening a door at the left, they found 
 themselves in the main room of the Lodge. It was 
 a low-studded room of considerable dimensions, amply 
 supplied with windows, looking out on Fulton and 
 Nassau Streets. At the side nearest the door was a 
 low platform, separated from the rest of the room by 
 a railing. On this platform were a table and two or 
 three chairs. This was the place for the superintend- 
 ent, and for gentlemen who from time to time ad- 
 dress the boys. 
 
 The superintendent at that time was Mr. Charles 
 O'Connor, who still retains the office. Probably no 
 one could be found better adapted to the difficult task 
 9f managing the class of boys who avail themselves 
 of the good offices of the Newsboys' Home. Ilia 
 mild yet firm manner, and more than all the convic- 
 tion that he is their friend, and feels a hearty interest 
 in their welfare, secure a degree of decorum aud 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER 1 S WARD. 127 
 
 good behavior which could hardly be anticipated. 
 Oaths and vulgar speech, however common in the 
 street, are rarely heard here, or, if heard, meet with 
 instant rebuke. 
 
 The superintendent was in the room when Ben 
 and Mark entered. 
 
 "Well. Ben, what luck have you had to-day?" 
 said Mr. O'Connor. 
 
 " Pretty good," said Ben. 
 
 " And who is that with you? " 
 
 ."Mother Watson's nephew," said Ben, with a 
 grimace. 
 
 " He's only joking, sir," said Mark. " My nam* 
 is Mark Man ton." 
 
 "lam glad to see you, Mark," said the superi» 
 tendent. " What is your business ? " 
 
 "I sell matches, sir." 
 
 " Have you parents living ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; they are both dead." 
 
 " Where have you been living? " 
 
 "In Vandewater Street." 
 
 " With any one ? " 
 
 "Yes, with a woman they call Mother Watson." 
 
 " Is she a relation of yours ? " 
 
128 MARK, THE MATCH SOT J 
 
 " No, sir," said Mark, hastily. 
 
 " What sort of a woman is she ? " 
 
 " Bad enough, sir. She gets drunk about every 
 day and used to beat me with a strap when I did 
 aot bring home as much money as she expected." 
 
 " So you have left her? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Have you ever been up here before ? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " I suppose you know the rules of the place." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; Ben has told me." 
 
 " You had better go and wash. We shall have 
 supper pretty quick. Have you any money ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 Mark took out his hoard of money, and showed it 
 to the superintendent, who was surprised at the 
 amount. 
 
 " How did you get so much? " he asked. 
 
 " Part of it was given me," said Mark. 
 
 " What are you going to do with it? You don't 
 need it all?" 
 
 "Will you keep it for me, sir ? " 
 
 11 1 will put as much of it as you can spare into 
 the bank for you. This is our bank.'' 
 
OR. RICHARD HUNTER 7 S WARD. 129 
 
 lie pointed to a table beside the railing on the out- 
 side. The top of it was pierced with narrow slits, 
 each having a number attached. Each compartment 
 was assigned to any boy who desired it, and his daily 
 earnings were dropped in at the end of the day. 
 Once a month the bank was opened, and the deposi- 
 tor was at liberty to withdraw his savings if he de- 
 sired it. This is an excellent arrangement, as it has 
 a tendency to teach frugal habits to the young 
 patrons of the Lodge. Extravagance is one of their 
 besetting sins. Many average a dollar and over as 
 daily earnings, yet are always ragged and out at 
 elbows, and often are unsupplied with the small price 
 of a night's lodging at the Home. The money is 
 squandered on gambling, cigars, and theatre-going, 
 while the same sum would make them comfortable 
 and independent of charity. The disposition to save 
 >s generally the first encouraging symptom in a 
 street boy, and shows that he has really a desire to 
 rise above his circumstances, and gain a respectable 
 position in the world. 
 
 Ben, who had long frequented the Lodging 
 House off and on, led the way to the washing-room, 
 where Mark, to his satisfaction, was able to cleanse 
 9 
 
130 MAIIK, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 himself from the dust and impurity of the street 
 "At Mother Watson's he had had no accommodationa 
 of the kind, as the old lady was not partial to water 
 either internally or externally. He was forced to 
 snatch such opportunities as he could find. 
 
 "Now," said Ben, "well go into the gymna- 
 sium." 
 
 A room opposite the main room had been fitted up 
 with a few of the principal appliances of a gymna- 
 sium, and these were already in use by quite a num- 
 ber of boys. 
 
 Mark looked on, but did not participate, partly 
 from bash fulness, and partly because he did not very 
 well understand the use of the different appli- 
 ances. 
 
 " How do you like it ? " asked Ben. 
 
 " Very much," said Mark, with satisfaction. " I'm 
 glad you brought me here." 
 
 " I'll show you the beds by and by," said Ben. 
 
 The rooms on the floor below were used for lodg- 
 ing. Tiers of neat beds, some like those in a steam- 
 boat or a hospital, filled a large room. They were 
 ?cry neat in appearance, and looked comfortable. 
 In order to insure their continuing neat, the super- 
 
OR, RICHARD HUXTER's WARD. 131 
 
 intendent requires such as need it to wash their feet 
 before retiring to bed 
 
 The supper was of course plain, but of good qual- 
 ity and sufficient quantity. 
 
 About nine o'clock Mark got into the neat bed 
 which was assigned him, and felt that it was more 
 satisfactory even than the cabin of a Brooklyn ferry- 
 boat. He slept peacefully except towards morning, 
 when he dreamed that his old persecutor, Mother 
 Watson, was about to apply the dreaded strap. He 
 woke up terrified, but soon realized with deep satia- 
 tion that he was no longer in her clutchea. 
 
182 MARK, THE MATCH BOT; 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 WHAT BEFELL THE MATCH BCT. 
 
 During the next three months Mark made his 
 home at the Lodging House. He was easily able to 
 meet the small charges of the Lodge for bed and 
 breakfast, and saved up ten dollars besides in the 
 bank. Ben Gibson began to look upon him as quite 
 a capitalist. 
 
 "I don't see how you save up so much money, 
 Mark," he said. " You don't earn more'n half as 
 much as I do." 
 
 " It's because you spend so much, Ben. It costs 
 you considerable for cigars and such things, you 
 know, and then you go to the Old Bowery pretty 
 often." 
 
 "A feller must have some fun," said Ben. 
 " They've got a tearin' old play at the Bowery now 
 You'd better come to-night." 
 
 Mark shook his head. 
 
OR, RICHARD IIVNTER'S WARD. 133 
 
 *'I feel pretty tired when it comes night," he 
 said. " I'd rather stay at home." 
 
 " You aint so tough as I am," said Ben. 
 
 "No," said Mark, "I don't feel very strong. I 
 think something's the matter with me." 
 
 "Nothin' aint ever the matter with me," said 
 Ben, complacently; " but you're a puny little chap, 
 that look as if you might blow away some day." 
 
 It was now April, and the weather was of that 
 mild character that saps the strength and produces 
 a feeling of weakness and debility. Mark had been 
 exposed during the winter to the severity of stormy 
 weather, and more than once got thoroughly drenched. 
 It was an exposure that Ben would only have 
 laughed at, but Mark was slightly built, without 
 much strength of constitution, and he had been 
 feeling very languid for a few days, so that it was 
 with an effort that he dragged himself round during 
 the day with his little bundle of matches. 
 
 This conversation with Ben took place in the 
 morning just as both boys were going to work. 
 
 They separated at the City Hall Park, Ben finding 
 a customer in front of the " Times " building, while 
 Mark, after a little deliberation, decided to go on to 
 
/84 MARK, THB MATCH BOY ; 
 
 Pearl Street with his matches. He had visited the 
 offices in most of the lower streets, but this was a 
 new region to him, and he thought he might meet 
 with better success there. So he kept on his 
 way. 
 
 The warm sun and the sluggish air made his head 
 ache, and he felt little disposition to oner his wares 
 for sale. He called at one or two offices, but effect- 
 ed no sales. At length he reached a large ware- 
 house with these names displayed on the sign over 
 the door : — 
 
 "ROCKWELL ft COOPER." 
 
 This, as the reader will remember, was the es- 
 tablishment in which Richard Hunter, formerly 
 Ragged Dick, was now book-keeper. 
 
 At this point a sudden faintness came over Mark, 
 and he sank to the ground insensible. 
 
 A moment before Richard Hunter handed a couple 
 of letters to the office boy, — known to the readers 
 of the earlier volumes in this series as Micky 
 Maguire, — and said, "Michael, 1 should like to 
 have you carry these at once to the post-office. On 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 135 
 
 the way you may stop at Trescott & Wayne's, and 
 get this bill cashed, if possible." 
 
 "All right, Mr. Hunter," said Michael, respect- 
 fully. 
 
 Richard Hunter and Micky Maguire had been 
 boot-blacks together, and had had more than one con- 
 test for the supremacy. They had been sworn 
 enemies, and Micky had done his utmost to injure 
 Richard, but the latter, by his magnanimity, had fi- 
 nally wholly overcome the antipathy of his former foe, 
 and, when opportunity offered, had lifted him to a 
 position in the office where he was himself employed. 
 In return, Micky had become an enthusiastic admirer 
 of Richard, and, so far from taking advantage of their 
 former relations, had voluntarily taken up the habit 
 of addressing him as Mr. Hunter. 
 
 Michael went out on his errand, but just outside 
 the door came near stepping upon the prostrate form 
 of the little match boy. 
 
 "Get up here!" he said, roughly, supposing at 
 first that Mark had thrown himself down out of 
 laziness and gone to sleep. 
 
 Mark didn't answer, and Micky, bending over, 
 saw his fixed expression and waxen pallor . 
 
136 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 "Mavbe the little chap's dead," he thought, 
 startled, and, without more ado, took him up in hia 
 strong arms and carried him into the counting- 
 room. 
 
 " Wh: have you got there, Michael ? " asked Rich- 
 ard Hunter, turning round in surprise. 
 
 " A little match boy that was lyin' just outside 
 the door. He looks as if he might be dead." 
 
 Richard jumped at once from his stool, and, ap- 
 proaching the boy, looked earnestly in his face. 
 
 "He has fainted away," he said, after a pause. 
 " Bring some water, quick ! " 
 
 Micky brought a glass of water, which was thrown 
 in the face of Mark. The match boy gave a little 
 Bhiver, and, opening his eyes, fixed them upon Rich- 
 ard Hunter. 
 
 "Where am I?" he asked, vacantly. 
 
 "You are with friends," said Richard, gently. 
 "You were found at our door faint. Do you feel 
 lick?" 
 
 "I feel weak," said Mark. 
 
 " Have you been well lately ? " 
 
 " No, I've felt tired and weak." 
 
 " Are you a match boy ? " 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTERS WARD. J 57 
 
 <*Yes." 
 
 " Have you parents living? " 
 
 1 No," said Mark. 
 
 a Poor fellow!" said Richard. "I know how 
 to pity you. I have no parents either." 
 
 "But you have got money," said Mark. "You 
 don't have to live in the street." 
 
 " I was once a street boy like you." 
 
 " You ! " repeated the match boy, in surprise. 
 
 " Yes. But where do you sleep? " 
 
 " At the Lodging House." 
 
 " It is a good place. Michael, you had better go 
 to the post-office now." 
 
 Mark looked about him a little anxiously. 
 
 " Where are my matches? " he asked. 
 
 " Just outside ; I'll get them," said Michael, 
 promptly. 
 
 He brought them in, and then departed on hia 
 errand. 
 
 "I guess I'd better be going," said Mark, rising 
 feebly 
 
 " No," said Richard. " You are not able. Come 
 here and sit down. You will feel stronger by and 
 by. Did you eat any breakfast this morning ? ' 
 
138 MARK, THE MATCH BOY, 
 
 "A little," said Mark, "but I was not very hun« 
 
 " Do you think you could eat anything now ? " 
 
 Mark shook his head. 
 
 " No," he said, "I don't feel hungry. I only 
 feel tired." 
 
 " Would you like to rest ? " 
 
 "Yes. That's all I want." 
 
 " Come here then, and I will see what I can do 
 for you." 
 
 Mark followed his new friend into the warehouse, 
 where Richard found a soft bale of cotton, and told 
 Mark he might lie down upon it. This the poor boy 
 was glad enough to do. In his weakness he was dis- 
 posed to sleep, and soon closed his eyes in slumber. 
 Several times Richard went out to look at him, but 
 found him dozing, and was unwilling to interrupt 
 him. 
 
 The day wore away, and afternoon came. 
 
 Mark got up from his cotton bale, and with 
 unsteady steps came to the door of the counting- 
 room. 
 
 " I'm going," he said. 
 
 Richard turned round. 
 
OR, ItlCHABD HUNTER'S WARD. 139 
 
 " Where are you going ? " 
 
 "I'm going to the Lodge. I think I won't sell 
 any more matches to-day." 
 
 " I'll take all you've left," said Richard. " Don't 
 trouble yourself about them. But you are not going 
 to the Lodge." 
 
 Mark looked at him in surprise. 
 
 "I shall take you home with me to-night," he 
 said. " You are not well, and I will look after you. 
 At the Lodge there will be a crowd of boys, and the 
 noise will do you harm." 
 
 " You are very kind," said Mark ; " but I'm afraid 
 I'll trouble you." 
 
 " No," said Richard, " I shan't count it a trouble. 
 I was once a poor boy like you, and I found friends. 
 I'll be your friend. Go back and lie down again, 
 and in about an hour I shall be ready to take you 
 with me." 
 
 It seemed strange to Mark to think that there was 
 Bomebody who proposed to protect and look after him. 
 In many of the offices which he visited he met with 
 rough treatment, and was ordered out of the way, aa 
 if he were a dog, and without human feelings. Many 
 who treated him in this way were really kind-hearted 
 
140 MAJtK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 men who had at home children whom they loved, bul 
 they appeared to forget that these neglected children 
 of the street had feelings and wants as well as their 
 own, who were tenderly nurtured. They did not re- 
 member that they were somebody's children, and 
 that cold, and harshness, and want were as hard for 
 them to bear as for those in a higher rank of life. 
 But Mark was in that state of weakness when it 
 seemed sweet to throw off all care or thought for the 
 future, and to sink back upon the soft bale with the 
 thought that he had nothing to do but to rest. 
 
 " That boy is going to be sick," thought Richard 
 Hunter to himself. " I think he is going to have a 
 fever." 
 
 It was because of this thought that he decided to 
 carry him home. He had a kind heart, and he knew 
 how terrible a thing sickness is to these little street 
 waifs, who have no mother or sister to smooth their 
 pillows, or cheer them with gentle words. The 
 friendless condition of the little match boy touched 
 his heart, and he resolved that, as he had the means 
 of taking care of him, he would do so 
 
 " Michael," he said, at the close of business houra 
 " I wish you would call a hack." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 141 
 
 "What, to come here?" asked Micky, surprised. 
 
 " Yes. I am going to take that little boy home 
 with me. I think he is going to be sick, and I am 
 afraid he would have a bard time of it if I sent him 
 back into the street." 
 
 " Bully for you, Mr. Hunter ! " said Micky, who, 
 though rough in his outward manners, was yet capa- 
 ble of appreciating kindness in others. There were 
 times indeed in the past when he had treated smaller 
 boys brutally, but it was under the influence of pas- 
 sion. He had improved greatly since, and his better 
 nature was beginning to show itself. 
 
 Micky went out, and soon returned in state inside 
 a hack. He was leaning back, thinking it would be 
 a very good thing if he had a carriage of his own to 
 ride in. But I am afraid that day will never come. 
 Micky has already turned out much better than was 
 expected, but he is hardly likely to rise much higher 
 than the subordinate position he now occupies. In 
 capacity and education he is far inferior to his old 
 associate, Richard Hunter, who is destined to rise 
 much higher than at present. 
 
 Richard Hunter went to the rear of the ware- 
 house where Mark still lay on his bale. 
 
112 MAIiK, THE MATCH BOY J 
 
 " Coine," he said ; " we'll go home now." 
 
 Mark rose from his recumbent position, and 
 Walked to the door. He saw with surprise the car- 
 riage, the door of which Micky Maguire held open. 
 
 " Are we going to ride in that ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," said Richard Hunter. " Let me help you 
 in." 
 
 The little match boy sank back in the soft seat in 
 fague surprise at his good luck. He could not help 
 wondering what Ben Gibson would say if he could 
 see him now. 
 
 Richard Hunter sat beside him, and supported 
 Mark's head. The driver whipped up his horse, and 
 they were speedily ^n their way up the Bowery to 
 St Mark's Place. 
 
OB, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 143 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 
 
 It was about half-past five o'clock in the afternoon 
 when the carriage containing Richard Hunter and 
 the match boy stopped in front of his boarding- 
 place in St. Mark's Place. Richard helped the 
 little boy out, saying, cheerfully, "Well, we've got 
 home." 
 
 " Is this where you live ? " asked Mark, faintly. 
 
 " Yes. How do you like it? " 
 
 " It's a nice place. I am afraid you are taking 
 too much trouble about me.", 
 
 " Don't think of that. Come in." 
 
 Richard had ascended the front steps, after paying 
 tne hackman, and taking out his night-key opened 
 the outside door. 
 
 " Come upstairs," he said. 
 
 They ascended two flights of stairs, and Richard 
 threw open the door of his room. A fire was already 
 
144 MARK, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 burning in the grate, and it looked bright and cheer* 
 ful. 
 
 11 Do you feel tired ? : * asked Richard. 
 
 " Yes, a little." 
 
 " Then lie right down on the bed. You are hungry 
 too, — are you not ? " 
 
 " A little." 
 
 " I will have something sent up to you." 
 
 Just then Fosdick, who, it will be remembered, 
 was Richard Hunter's room-mate, entered the room. 
 He looked with surprise at Mark, and then inquir- 
 ingly at Richard. 
 
 "It is a little match boy," explained the lattei. 
 " who fell in a fainting-fit in front of our office. I 
 think the poor fellow is going to be sick, so I 
 brought him home, and mean to take care of him till 
 he is well." 
 
 " You must let me share the expense, Dick," said 
 Fosdick. 
 
 " No, but I'll let you share the care of him. 
 That will do just as well." 
 
 " But I would rather share the expense. He re- 
 minds me of the way I was situated when I fell in 
 with you. What is your name? " 
 
OR, RTCHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 145 
 
 ' Mark Manton," said the match boy. 
 'I've certainly seen him somewhere before,'' said 
 Fosdick, reflectively. "His face looks familiar to 
 me." 
 
 " So it does to me. Perhaps I've seen him about 
 the streets somewhere." 
 
 " I have it," said Fosdick, suddenly; " don't you 
 remember the boy we saw sleeping in the cabin of 
 the Fulton Ferryboat?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I think he is the one. Mark," he continued, 
 turning to the match boy, "didn't you sleep one 
 night on a Brooklyn ferry-boat about three months 
 ago?" 
 
 " Yes," said Mark. 
 
 "And did you find anything in your vest-pocket 
 in the morning? " 
 
 "Yes," said the match boy with interest. "I 
 fcuntl a dollar, and didn't know where it came from 
 Was it you that put it in? " 
 
 "He had a hand in it," said Fosdick, pointing 
 with a smile to his room-mate. 
 
 "I was very glad to get it," said Mark. "I 
 
 only had eight cents besides, and that gave me 
 10 
 
L46 MARK, THE MATCH BOY / 
 
 enough to buy some matches. That was at the time 
 I ran away." 
 
 " Who did you run away from? " 
 
 " From Mother Watson." 
 
 "■ Mother Watson ? " repeated Dick. " I wonder 
 if I don't know her. She is a very handsome old 
 lady, with a fine red complexion, particularly about 
 the nose." 
 
 " Yes," said Mark, with a smile. 
 
 " And she takes whiskey when she can get it? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " How did you fall in with her ? " 
 
 " She promised to take care of me when my mother 
 died, but instead of that she wanted me to earn 
 money for her." 
 
 " Yes, she was always a very disinterested old 
 lady. So it appears you didn't like her as a guar- 
 dian?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then suppose you take me. Would you like tc 
 be ray ward? " 
 
 <! I think I would, but I don't know what it 
 means," said Mark. 
 
 " It means that I'm tc look after you," said Dick, 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 147 
 
 "just as if I was jour uncle or grandfather. You 
 may call me grandfather if you want to." 
 
 " Oh, you're too young," said Mark, amused in 
 epite of his weakness. 
 
 " Then we won't decide just at present about the 
 name. But I forgot all about yoor being hungry." 
 
 " I'm not very hungry." 
 
 "At any rate you haven't had anything to eat 
 since morning, and need something. I'll go down 
 and see Mrs. Wilson about it." 
 
 Richard Hunter soon explained matters to Mrs. 
 Wilson, to whom he offered to pay an extra weekly 
 Bum for Mark, and arranged that a small single bed 
 should be placed in one corner of the room tempo- 
 rarily in which the match boy should sleep. He 
 speedily reappeared with a bowl of broth, a cup 
 of tea, and some dry toast. The sight of these caused 
 the match boy's eyes to brighten, and he was able 
 to do very good justice to all. 
 
 "Now," said Richard Hunter, "I will call in a 
 doctor, and find out what is the matter with my 
 little ward." 
 
 In the course of the evening Dr. Pemberton, a 
 young dispensary physician, whose acquaintance 
 
148 MARK, THE MATCH EOT J 
 
 Richard had casually made, called at his request and 
 looked at the patient. 
 
 "He is not seriously sick," he pronounced. £ Ii 
 is chiefly debility that troubles him, brought on 
 I robably by exposure, and over-exertion in this lan- 
 guid spring weather." 
 
 "Then you don't think he is going to have a 
 fever? " said Dick. 
 
 " No, not if he remains under your care. Had 
 he continued in the street, I think he would not have 
 escaped one." 
 
 " What shall we do for him ? " 
 
 " Rest is most important of all. That, with nour- 
 ishing food and freedom from exposure, will soon 
 bring him round again." 
 
 "He shall have all these." 
 
 " I suppose you know him, as you take so much 
 interest in him ? " 
 
 " No, I never saw him but once before to-day, but 
 t am able to befriend him, and he has no other 
 friends r ' 
 
 " There are not many young men who would take 
 *11 this trouble about a poor match boy," said the 
 doctor. 
 
OR> RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 149 
 
 " It's because they don't koow how hard it is to 
 be friendless and neglected," said Dick. "I've 
 known that feeling, and it makes me pity those who 
 are in the same condition I once was." 
 
 "I wish there were more like you, Mr. Hunter," 
 said Dr. Pemberton. " There would be less suffer- 
 ing in the world. As to our little patient here, I 
 have no doubt he will do well, and soon be on his 
 legs again." 
 
 Indeed Mark was already looking better and feel 
 ing better. The rest which he had obtained during 
 the day, and the refreshment he had just taken, were 
 precisely what he needed. He soon fell asleep, and 
 Richard and Fosdick. lighting the gas lamp on the 
 centre-table, sat down to their evening studies. 
 
 In a few days Mark was decidedly better, but it 
 was thought best that he should still keep the room. 
 He liked it very well in the evening when Dick and 
 Fosdick were at home, but he felt rather lonesome 
 in the daytime. Richard Hunter thought of this 
 one day, and said, " Can you read, Mark? " 
 
 " Yes," said the match boy. 
 
 "Who taught you? Not Mother Watson, 
 surely." 
 
150 MARK, THE MATCH BOY, 
 
 " No, she couldn't read herself. It was my 
 mother who taught me." 
 
 " I think I must get you two or three books of 
 stories to read while we are away in the day- 
 time." 
 
 "You are spending too much money for me, Mr 
 Hunter." 
 
 " Remember I am your guardian, and it is my 
 duty to take care of you." 
 
 The next morning on his way down town, Richard 
 Hunter stepped into a retail bookstore on Broadway. 
 As he entered, a boy, if indeed it be allowable to 
 apply such a term to a personage so consequential in 
 his manners, came forward. 
 
 " What, Roswell Crawford, are you here? " asked 
 Richard Hunter, in surprise. 
 
 Roswell, who has already been mentioned in this 
 story, and who figured considerably in previous vol- 
 umes of this series, answered rather stiffly to this 
 salutation. 
 
 "Yes," he said. "I am here for a short time. 
 [ came in to oblige Mr. Baker." 
 
 "You were always very obliging, Roswell," said 
 Richard, good-humoredly. 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER 7 S WARD. 151 
 
 Roswell did not appear to appreciate this complin 
 ment. He probably thought it savored of irony. 
 
 " Do you want to buy anything this morning?" he 
 said, shortly. 
 
 "Yes; I would like to look at some books of fairy 
 stories." 
 
 " For your own reading, I suppose," said Roswell. 
 
 " I may read them, but I am getting them for my 
 ward." 
 
 "Is he a boot-black ? " sneered Roswell, who knew 
 all about Dick's early career. 
 
 "No," said Richard, "he's a match boy; so if 
 you've got any books that you can warrant to be 
 just the thing for match boys, I should like to see 
 them." 
 
 "We don't have many customers of that class," 
 said Roswell, unpleasantly. " They generally go 
 to cheaper establishments, when they are able to 
 read." 
 
 " Do they ? " said Dick. " I'm glad you've got 
 into a place where you only meet the cream of soci- 
 ety," and Dick glanced significantly at a red- nosed 
 man who came in to buy a couple of sheets of note- 
 paper. 
 
152 MARK, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 Roswell colored. 
 
 " There are some exceptions," he said, and glanced 
 pointedly at Richard Hunter himself. 
 
 "Well," said Dick, after looking over a collection 
 of juvenile books, "I'll take these two." 
 
 He drew out his pocket-book, and handed Roswell 
 a ten-dollar bill. Roswell changed it with a feeling 
 of jealousy and envy. He was the "son of a gen- 
 tleman," as he often boasted, but he never had a ten- 
 dollar bill in his pocket. Indeed, he was now working 
 for six dollars a week, and glad to get that, after 
 having been out of a situation for several months. 
 
 Just then Mr. Gladden, of the large down-town 
 firm of Gladden & Co., came into the store, and, see- 
 ing Richard, saluted him cordially. 
 
 "How are you this morning, Mr. Hunter?" he 
 said. " Are you on your way down town? " 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Richard. 
 
 " Come with me. We will take an omnibus to- 
 gether ; " and the two walked out of the store in 
 familiar conversation. 
 
 " I shouldn't think such a man as Mr. Gladden 
 would notice a low boot-black," said Roswell, bit- 
 terly 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER.' S WARD. 153 
 
 The rest of the day he was made ur.happy by the 
 thought of Dick's prosperity, and » & jwn hard fate, 
 in being merely a clerk in a booku//v ^ith a salarj 
 of six dollars a week. 
 
£M MARK, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MARK GETS A PLACE. 
 
 In a week from the purchase of the books, Mark 
 Jelt that he was fully recovered. He never had 
 much color, but the unhealthy pallor had left his 
 cheeks, and he had an excellent appetite. 
 
 "Well, Mark, how do you feel to-night? " asked 
 Richard, on his return from the store one evening. 
 
 "I'm all right, now, Mr. Hunter. I think I will 
 go to work to-morrow morning." 
 
 "What sort of work?" 
 
 " Selling matches." 
 
 " Do you like to sell matches? " 
 
 " I like it better than selling papers, or blacking 
 boots." 
 
 " But wouldn't you like better to be in a store? " 
 
 "I couldn't get a place," said Mirk. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 1 My clothes are ragged," said the match boy with 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER S WARD. 155 
 
 some hesitation. " Besides I haven't got anybody 
 to refer to." 
 
 " Can't you refer to your guardian ? " asked Rich- 
 aid Hunter, smiling. 
 
 " Do you think I had better try to get a place in 
 a store, Mr. Hunter ? " asked Mark. 
 
 "Yes, I think it would be much better for you 
 than to sell matches on the street. You are not a 
 strong boy, and the exposure is not good for you. 
 As to your clothes, we'll see if we cannot supply you 
 with something better than you have on." 
 
 " But," said Mark, " I want to pay for my clothes 
 myself. I have got ten dollars in the bank at the 
 Newsboys' Lodge." 
 
 " Very well. You can go down to-morrow morn- 
 ing and get it. But we needn't wait for that. I 
 will go and get you some clothes before I go to busi- 
 ness." 
 
 In the morning Richard Hunter went out with 
 the match boy, and for twenty dollars obtained 
 for him a very neat gray suit, besides a supply of 
 under-clothing. Mark put them on at once, and felt 
 not a little pleased with the improvement in his ap- 
 pearance. 
 
156 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 "You can carry your old clothes to Mr. O'Con- 
 nor," said Richard. "They are not very g*»od, but 
 they are better than none, and he may have an op- 
 portunity of giving them away." 
 
 " You have been very kind to me, Mr. Hunter," 
 %aid Mark, gratefully. " Good-by." 
 
 • ' Good-by ? What makes you say that ? ' ' 
 
 " Because I am going now to the Newsboys' 
 Lodge." 
 
 " Yes, but you are coming back again." 
 
 " But I think I had better go there to live now. 
 It will be much cheaper, and I ought not to put you 
 to so much expense." 
 
 " You're a good boy, Mark, but you must remem- 
 ber that I am your guardian, and am to be obeyed as 
 such. You're not going back to the Lodge to live. 
 I have arranged to have you stay with me at my 
 boarding-place. As soon as you have got a place you 
 will work in the daytime, and every Saturday night 
 you will bring me your money. In the evening 1 
 shall have you study a little, for I don't want you to 
 grow up as ignorant as I was at your age." 
 
 " Were you ignorant, Mr. Hunter? " asked Mark, 
 with interest 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 157 
 
 " Yea, I was," said Richard. " When I was four 
 teen, I couldn't read nor write." 
 
 "I can hardly believe that, Mr. Hunter," said 
 Mark. " You're such a fine scholar." 
 
 " Am I ? " asked Richard, smiling, jet well pleased 
 with the compliment. 
 
 " Why, you can read French as fast as I can read 
 English, and write beautifully." 
 
 " Well, I had to work hard to do it," said Richard 
 Hunter. " But I feel paid for all the time I've 
 spent in trying to improve myself. Sometimes I've 
 thought I should like to spend the evening at some 
 place of amusement rather than in study ; but if I 
 had, there'd be nothing to show for it now. Take 
 my advice, Mark, and study all you can, and you'll 
 grow up respectable and respected." 
 
 "Now," he added, after a pause, "1*11 tell you 
 what you may do. You may look in my ' Herald ' 
 every morning, and whenever you see a boy adver- 
 tised for you can call, or whenever, in going along the 
 Btreet, you see a notice ' Boy wanted,' you may call in, 
 and sooner or later you'll get something. If thej 
 ask for references, you may refer to Richard Hunter 
 book-keeper for Rockwell & Cooper." 
 
158 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Hunter," said Mark. "I will 
 do so." 
 
 On parting with his guardian the match boy went 
 down town to the Lodging House. The superin- 
 tendent received him kindly. 
 
 " I didn't know what had become of you, Mark," 
 he said. " If it had been some of the boys, I should 
 have been afraid they had got into a scrape, and gone 
 to the Island. But I didn't think that of you." 
 
 " I hope you'll never hear that of me, Mr. O'Con- 
 nor," said Mark. 
 
 "I hope not. I'm always sorry to hear of any 
 boy's going astray. But you seem to have been 
 doing well since I saw you ; " and the superintendent 
 glanced at Marks new clothes. 
 
 " I've met with some kind friends," said the match 
 boy. "I have been sick, and they took care of 
 me." 
 
 " And now you have come back to the Lodge." 
 
 " Yes, but not to stay. I came for the money 
 that I have saved up ir. the bank. It is going fof 
 these clothes." 
 
 - ' Very well. You shall have it. What is the 
 name of the friend who has taken care of you ? " 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER' S WARD 159 
 
 " Richard Hunter." 
 
 "I know him," said the superintendent. "He u 
 an excellent young man. You could not be in bettei 
 hands." 
 
 On leaving the Lod«;e Mark felt a desire to find 
 his old ally, Ben Gibson, who, though rather a rough 
 character, had been kind to him. 
 
 Ben was not difficult to find. During business 
 hours he was generally posted on Nassau Street, 
 somewhere between Fulton Street and Spruce 
 Street. 
 
 He was just polishing off a customer's boots when 
 Mark came up, and touched him lightly on the 
 shoulder. Ben looked up, but did not at first rec- 
 ognize the match boy in the neatly dressed figure 
 before him. 
 
 " Shine yer boots ! " he asked, in a professional 
 tone. 
 
 " Why, Ben, don't you know me?" asked Mark, 
 laughing. 
 
 " My eyes, if it aint Mark, the match boy ! " ex- 
 claimed Ben, in surprise. " Where' ve you beet all 
 this while, Mark?" 
 
 " I've been sick, Ben." 
 
160 MARK, THE MATCH SOT; 
 
 " I'd like to be sick too, if that's the way you got 
 them clo'es. I didn't know what had "come of you.' 
 
 " I found some good friends," said Mark. 
 
 "If your friends have got any more good clo'es 
 they want to get rid of," said Ben, "tell 'em you 
 know a chap that can take care of a few. Are you 
 in the match business now ? " 
 
 "I haven't been doing anything for three weeks," 
 said Mark. 
 
 " Goin' to sell matches again ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Sellin' papers ? " 
 
 " No, I'm trying to find a place in a store." 
 
 " I don't think I'd like to be in a store," said Ben, 
 reflectively. "I'm afraid my delicate constitution 
 couldn't stand the confinement. Besides, I'm my 
 own boss now, and don't have nobody to order me 
 round." 
 
 " But you don't expect to black boots all your life, 
 Ben, do you?" 
 
 "I dunno," said Ben. "Maybe when I'm mar* 
 ried, I'll choose some other business. It would be 
 rather hard to support a family at five cents a shine 
 Are you comin' to the Lodge to-night? " 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. J 61 
 
 " No," said Mark, " I'm boarding up at St. Mark's 
 Place." 
 
 " Mother Watson hasn't opened a fashionable 
 boardin'-house up there, has she ? " 
 
 " I guess not," said Mark, smiling. "I can't think 
 what has become of her. I haven't seen her since 
 the day she tried to carry me off." 
 
 " I've heard of her," said Ben. " She's stoppin' 
 with some friends at the Island. They won't let her 
 come away on account of likin' her company so 
 much." 
 
 " I hope I shall never see her again," said Mark, 
 with a shudder. " She is a wicked old woman. But 
 I must be going, Ben." 
 
 "I s'pose you'll come and see a feller now and 
 then." 
 
 " Yes, Ben, when I get time. But I hope to get 
 a place soon." 
 
 Mark walked leisurely up Broadway. Having 
 been confined to the house for three weeks, he en- 
 joyed the excitement of being out in the street once 
 more. The shop windows looked brighter and gayer 
 than before, and the little match boy felt that the 
 world was a very pleasant place after all. 
 11 
 
J 62 MJRK, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 He had passed Eighth Street before he was fairly 
 aware of the distance he had traversed. He found 
 himself looking into the window of a bookstore. 
 While examining the articles in the window his eye 
 suddenly caught the notice pasted in the middle of 
 the glass on a piece of white paper : — 
 
 "boy wanted." 
 
 " Perhaps they'll take me," thought Mark, sudden- 
 ly. " At any rate I'll go in and see." 
 
 Accordingly he entered the store, and looked about 
 him a little undecidedly. 
 
 *' Well, sonny, what do you want? " asked a clerk. 
 
 "I see that you want a boy," said Mark. 
 
 " Yes. Do you want a place ? " 
 
 " I am trying to get one." 
 
 " Well, go and see that gentleman about it." 
 
 He pointed to a gentleman who was seated at a 
 desk in the corner of the store. 
 
 " Please, sir, do you want a boy ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," said the gentleman. " How old are 
 pu?" 
 
 " Ten years old." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 1G3 
 
 " You are rather young. Have you been in any 
 place before? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Do you know your way about the city pretty 
 well?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 11 1 want a boy to deliver papers and magazines, 
 and carry small parcels of books. Do you think you 
 could do that?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Without stopping to play on the way ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I have just discharged one boy, because he was 
 gone an hour and a half on an errand to Twentieth 
 Street. You are the first boy that has answered 
 my advertisement. I'll try you on a salary of three 
 dollars a week, if you can go to work at once. 
 What is your name ? " 
 
 " Mark Manton." 
 
 " Very well, Mark. Go to Mr. Jones, behind 
 the counter there, and he will give you a parcel to 
 carry to West Twenty-First Street." 
 
 " I'm in luck," thought Mark. " I iidn't expect 
 to get a place so easily." 
 
UA MARK, THE MATCH BOT t 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 mark's first impressions. 
 
 Probably my readers already understand that 
 tLe bookstore in which Mark has secured a place is 
 the same in which Roswell Crawford is employed. This 
 circumstance, if Mark had only known it, was likely 
 to make his position considerably less desirable than 
 it would otherwise have been. Mr. Baker, the proprie- 
 tor of the store, was very considerate in his treatment 
 of those in his employ, and Mr. Jones, his chief clerk, 
 was good-natured and pleasant. But Roswell was 
 very apt to be insolent and disagreeable to those 
 who were, or whom he considered to be, in an infe- 
 rior position to himself, while his lofty ideas of his 
 own dignity and social position as the "spn of a 
 gentleman," made him not very desirable as a clerk. 
 Still he had learned something from his bad luck 
 thus far. He had been so long in getting his pres> 
 ent place, that he felt it prudent to sacrifice his pride 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER* S WARL. 1G5 
 
 i»» some extent for the sake of retaining it. But if 
 he could neglect his duties without attracting atten- 
 tion, he resolved to do it, feeling that six dollars waa 
 a beggarly salary for a young gentleman of hia 
 position and capacity. It was unfortunate for him, 
 and a source of considerable annoyance, that ho 
 could get no one except his mother to assent to hia 
 own estimate of his abilities. Even his Cousin 
 Gilbert, who had been Rockwell & Cooper's book- 
 keeper before Richard Hunter succeeded to the posi- 
 tion, did not conceal his poor opinion of Roswell ; 
 but this the latter attributed to prejudice, being 
 persuaded in his own mind that his cousin was 
 somewhat inclined to be envious of his superior 
 abilities. 
 
 At the time that Mark was so suddenly engaged 
 by Mr. Baker, Roswell had gone out to dinner. 
 When he returned, Mark had gone out with the 
 parcel to West Twenty-first Street. So they missed 
 each other just at first. 
 
 " Well, Crawford," said Mr. Jones, as Roswell 
 re-entered the store, ' ' Mr. Baker has engaged a new 
 boy." 
 
 * : Has he ? What sort of a fellow is he ? : ' 
 
166 MARK, THE MATCH BOY / 
 
 " A little fellow. He doesn't look as if be was 
 more than ten years old." 
 
 " Where is he?" 
 
 " Mr. Baker sent him on an errand to Twenty- 
 first Street." 
 
 "Humph!" said Roswell, a little discontented, 
 " I was going to recommend a friend of mine." 
 
 " There may be a chance yet. This boy may not 
 Buit." 
 
 In about five minutes Mr. Baker and Mr. Jones 
 both went out to dinner. It was the middle of the 
 day, when there is very little business, and it would 
 not be difficult for Roswell to attend to any custom- 
 ers who might call. 
 
 As soon as he was left alone, Roswell got an in- 
 teresting book from the shelves, and, sitting down 
 in his employer's chair, began to read, though this 
 was against the rules in business hours. To see the 
 pomj>ous air with which Roswell threw himself back 
 in his chair, it might have been supposed that he 
 was the proprietor of the establishment, though I 
 believe it is true, as a general rule, that employers 
 are not in the habit of putting on so many airs, un- 
 less the position is a new one, and they have not yet 
 
OH. RWnARD HUNTElfS WARD. 167 
 
 £i>t over the new feeling of importance which it ig 
 apt to inspire at first. 
 
 While Roswell was thus engaged Mark returnel 
 from his errand. 
 
 lie looked about him in some uncertainty oa 
 entering the store, not seeing either Mr. Baker or 
 the chief clerk. 
 
 " Come here," said Roswell, in a tone of au- 
 thority. 
 
 Mark walked up to the desk. 
 
 "So you are the new boy?" said Roswell, 
 after a close scrutiny. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "It would be a little more polite to say 'Yet 
 sir.' " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " What is your age ? " 
 
 " Ten years." 
 
 { Humph ! You are rather young. If I had 
 been consulted I should have said ' Get a boy of 
 twelve years old.' " 
 
 " I hope I shall suit," said Mark. 
 
 1 I hope so,'' said Roswell, patronizingly. "Yon 
 will find us very easy to get along with if you do 
 
168 MARK, THE MATCH BOY / 
 
 youi duty. We were obliged to send away a boy 
 this morning because he played instead of going on 
 his errands at once." 
 
 Mark could not help wondering what was Ros- 
 cell's position in the establishment. He talked aa 
 if he were one of the proprietors ; but his youthful 
 appearance made it difficult to suppose that. 
 
 " What is your name ? " continued Roswell. 
 
 "Mark Manton." 
 
 " Have you been in any place before? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Do you live with your parents? " 
 
 " My parents are dead." 
 
 " Then whom do you live with ? " 
 
 " With my guardian." 
 
 " So you have a guardian? " said Roswell, & lit 
 tie surprised. " What is his name ?" 
 
 "Mr. Hunter." 
 
 "Hunter!" repeated Roswell, hastily. " Whal 
 is his first name ? " 
 
 " Richard I believe." 
 
 " Dick Hunter ! " exclaimed Roswell, scornfully 
 11 Do you mean to say that he has charge of 
 you?" 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER* S WARD. 169 
 
 "Yea," said Mark, firmly, for he perceived the 
 tone in which his friend was referred to, and resent- 
 ed it. Moreover the new expression which came 
 over Roswell's face brought back to his recollection 
 the evening when, for the first time in his life, he 
 had begged in Fulton Market, and been scornfully 
 repulsed by Roswell and his mother. Roswell's face 
 had at first seemed familiar to him, but it was only 
 now that he recognized him. Roswell, on the other 
 hand, was not likely to identify the neatly dressed 
 boy before him with the shivering little beggar of 
 the market. But it recurred to him all at once 
 that Dick had referred to his ward as a match 
 boy. 
 
 " You were a match boy? " he said, in the man- 
 ner of one making a grave accusation. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Then why didn't you keep on selling matches, 
 and not try to get a place in a respectable store? " 
 
 " Because Mr. Hunter thought it better for me 
 to go into a store." 
 
 " Mr. Hunter ! Perhaps you don't know that 
 youi guardian, as you call him, used to be a boot- 
 black." 
 
1 70 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 "Yes, he told me so." 
 ~ " They called him ' Ragged Dick ' then," sand 
 Roswell, turning up his nose. " He couldn't read 
 or write, I believe." 
 
 "He's a good scholar now," said Mark. 
 
 " Humph ! I suppose he told you so. But you 
 mustn't believe all he tells you." 
 
 "He wouldn't tell anything but the truth," said 
 Mark, who was bolder in behalf of his friend than he 
 would have been for himself. 
 
 "So he did tell you he was a good scholar? I 
 thought so." 
 
 "No, he told me nothing about it; but since I 
 have lived with him I've heard him read French as 
 well as English." 
 
 ' Perhaps that isn't saying much," said Roswell, 
 with a sneer. "Can you read yourself? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "That is more than I expected. What induced 
 Mr. Baker to take a boy from the street is more than 
 I can tell." 
 
 " I suppose I can run errands just as well, if I 
 was rnce a match boy," said Mark, who did not 
 fency the tone which Roswell assumed towards him, 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTlsR'S WARD. 171 
 
 and began to doubt whether he was a person of as 
 much importance as he at first supposed. 
 
 "We shall see," said Roswell, loftily. "But 
 there's one thing I'll advise you, young man, and 
 that is, to treat me with proper respect. You'll find 
 it best to keep friends with me. I can get you 
 turned away any time." 
 
 Mark hardly knew whether to believe this or not. 
 He already began to suspect that Roswell was some- 
 thing of a humbug, and though it was not in hia 
 nature to form a causeless dislike, he certainly did 
 not feel disposed to like Roswell. He did not care 
 §o much for any slighting remarks upon himself, as 
 for the scorn with which Roswell saw fit to speak of 
 his friend, Richard Hunter, who by his good offices 
 had won the little boy's lasting gratitude. Mark 
 did not reply to the threat contained in these last 
 words of Roswell. 
 
 " Is there anything for me to do? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, you may dust off those books on the coun- 
 ter. There's the duster hanging up." 
 
 This was really Roswell's business, and he ought 
 to have been at work in this way instead of reading; 
 but it was characteristic of him to shift his duties 
 
172 MAllK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 upon others. He was not aware of how much timf 
 had passed, and supposed that Mark would be 
 through before Mr. Barker returned. But tbai 
 gentleman came in while Roswell was busily engaged 
 in reading. 
 
 " Is that the way you do your work, Roswell ? " 
 asked his employer. 
 
 Roswell jumped to his feet in some confusion. 
 
 " I thought I had better set the new boy to work," 
 he said. 
 
 " Dusting the books is your work, not his." 
 
 " He was doing nothing, sir." 
 
 " He will have plenty to do in carrying out par- 
 cels. Besides, I don't know that it is any worse for 
 him to be idle than you. You were reading also, 
 which you know is against the rules of the store." 
 
 Roswell made no reply, but it hurt his pride con- 
 siderably to be censured thus in presence of Mark, 
 to whom he had spoken with such an assumption of 
 pcwer and patronage. 
 
 " I wish I had a store of my own," he thought, 
 discontentedly. "Then I could do as I pleased 
 without having anybody to interfere with me." 
 
 But Roswell did not understand, and there are 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 173 
 
 plenty of boys in the same state of ignorance, that 
 those who fill subordinate positions acceptably are 
 most likely to rise to stations where they will them- 
 selves have control over others. 
 
 "I suppose you have not been to dinner," saivl 
 Mr. Baker, turning to Mark. 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " You board in St. Mark's Place, I think you 
 said?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Very well, here is a parcel to go to East Ninth 
 Street. You may call and leave that at the address 
 marked upon it, and may stay out long enough for 
 dinner. But don't begone more than an hour in 
 all." 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " I am glad that boy isn't my employer," thought 
 Mark, referring of course to Roswell Crawford, who, 
 bj the way, would have been indignant at such 
 an appellation. " I like Mr. Baker a great deal 
 better." 
 
 Mark was punctual to his appointment, and in a 
 little less than an hour reported himself at the store 
 again for duty. 
 
174 MARK* THE MATCH HOT; 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 BAD ADVICE. 
 
 Roswell pursued his way home with a general 
 sense of discontent. Why should he be so much 
 worse off than Richard Hunter, who had only been 
 a ragged boot-black three years before ? The whole 
 world seemed to be in a conspiracy to advance 
 Richard, and to keep him down. To think he 
 should be only earning six dollars a week, while 
 Dick, whom he considered so far beneath him, was 
 receiving twenty, was really outrageous. And now 
 he had pushed a low dependent of his into Baker's 
 stoie where Roswell was obliged to associate witb 
 him ! 
 
 Certainly Roswell's grievances were numerous. 
 But there was one thing he did not understand, that 
 the greatest obstacle to his advancement was himself. 
 If he had entered a'vy situation with the determina- 
 tion to make his services valuable, and discharge 
 
on, nicriARD hunter's ward. 175 
 
 his duties, whatever they might be, with conscien- 
 tious fidelity, he would have found his relations with 
 his employer much more' agreeable and satisfactory. 
 
 Mrs. Crawford still kept the house in Clinton 
 Place, letting nearly all the rooms to lodgers. In 
 this way she succeeded in making both ends meet 
 though with considerable difficulty, so that she had 
 not the means to supply Roswe 1 ! with the spending 
 money he desired. Her nephew, James Gilbert, 
 Richard Huntley's predecessor as book-keeper, still 
 boarded with her. It will be remembered by tha 
 readers of " Fame and Fortune," that this Gilbert, 
 on being questioned by Mr. Rockwell as to his share 
 in the plot against Dick, had angrily resigned hia 
 position, thinking, probably, that he should lose it at 
 any rate. 
 
 It so happened that business was generally do 
 pressed at this time, and it was three months before 
 lie succeeded in obtaining another place, and then 
 he was compelled to work for eight hundred dollars, 
 or two hundred less than he had formerly received. 
 This was a great disappointment to him, and did not 
 help his temper much, which had never been very 
 sweet. He felt quite exasperated against Dick, 
 
176 MARK, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 whom, very much against his wishes, he had *een 
 the means of promoting to his own place. Indeed, 
 on this point, he sympathized heartily with Roswell, 
 whose dislike to Richard Hunter has already been 
 shown. 
 
 "Well, mother," said Roswell, as he entered 
 Mis. Crawford's presence, " I'm getting tired of 
 Baker's store." 
 
 "Don't say so, Roswell," said his mother, in 
 alarm. " Remember how long it took you to get 
 the place." 
 
 "I have to work like a dog for six dollars a 
 week," said Roswell. 
 
 "Yes," said his cousin, with a sneer, "that's 
 precisely the way you work. Dogs spend their 
 time running round the street doing nothing." 
 
 " Well, I have to work hard enough," said 
 Roswell, " but I wouldn't mind that so much, if I 
 didn't have to associate with low match boys." 
 
 "What do you mean, Roswell?" asked his 
 mother, who did not understand the allusion. 
 
 " Baker hired a new boy to-day, and wh) do you 
 think he turns out to be ? " 
 
 " Not that boy, Ragged Dick ? " 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 177 
 
 " No, you don't think he would give up Cousin 
 James' place, where he gets a thousand dollars a 
 /ear, to go into Baker's as boy ? " 
 
 " Who was it, then ? " 
 
 " He used to be a ragged match boy about the 
 streets Dick Hunter picked him up somewhere, 
 and got him a situation in our store, on purpose to 
 spite me, I expect." 
 
 As the reader is aware, Roswell was mistaken in 
 his supposition, as Mark obtained the place on hi* 
 own responsibility. 
 
 " The boot-black seems to be putting on airs," said 
 Mrs. Crawford. 
 
 u Yes, he pretends to be the guardian of this 
 match boy." 
 
 " What's the boy's name ? " 
 
 u Mark Manton." 
 
 "If I were Mr. Baker," said Mrs. Crawford, "I 
 BQOuld be afraid to take a street boy into my employ. 
 Vory likely he isn't honest." 
 
 " I wish he would steal something," said Roswell, 
 not very charitably. " Then we could get rid of 
 him, and the boot-black would be pretty well morti- 
 fied about it." 
 
 12 
 
178 MARK, THE M^TCH BOY} 
 
 "He'll be found out sooner or later," said Mrs 
 Crawford. " You may depend on that. You'd 
 better keep a sharp lookout for him, Roswell. If 
 you catch him in stealing, it will help you with Mr. 
 Biker, or ought to." 
 
 This would have comforted Roswell more, but thai 
 he was privately of opinion that Mark was honest, 
 and would not be likely to give him any chance of 
 detecting him in stealing. Still, by a little manage 
 ment on his part, he might cause him to fall under 
 suspicion. It would of course be miserably mean on 
 his part to implicate a little boy in a false charge; 
 but Rosweli was a mean boy, and he was not scrupu- 
 lous where his dislike was concerned. He privately 
 decided to think over this new plan for getting Mark 
 into trouble. 
 
 " Isn't dinner ready, mother?" he asked, rather 
 ; x patiently. 
 
 " It will be in about ten minutes." 
 
 " I'm as hungry as a bear." 
 
 " You can always do your part at the table," said 
 ois cousin unpleasantly. 
 
 " I don't know why I shouldn't. I have to work 
 hard enough." 
 
On, IilCMARD HONTEU& WAKD. 179 
 
 *' You are always talking about your hard work. 
 My belief is that you don't earn your wages." 
 
 '• I should think it was a pity if I didn't earn ail 
 dollars a week," said Roswell. 
 
 " Come, James, you're always hard on Roswell," 
 said Mrs. Crawford. " I am sure he has hard timea 
 enough without his own relations turning against 
 him." 
 
 James Gilbert did not reply. He was naturally 
 of a sarcastic turn, and, seeing Roswell's faults, was 
 not inclined to spare them. He might have pointed 
 them out, however, in a kindly manner, and then his 
 young cousin might possibly been benefited ; but 
 Gilbert felt very little interest in Roswell. 
 
 Immediately after dinner Roswell took up his cap. 
 His mother observed this, and inquired, " Where 
 are you going, Roswell ? " 
 
 " I'm going out to walk." 
 
 " Why don't you go with your cousin ? ' 
 
 James Gilbert had also taken his hat. 
 
 " He don't want to be bothered with me," said 
 Roswell, and this statement Gilbert did not take the 
 trouble to contradict. 
 
 " Why can't you stay in and read ? " 
 
180 MARK, THIS MATCH BOY; 
 
 "I haven't got anything to read. Besides I've 
 been cooped up in the store all day, and I want to 
 breathe a little fresh a r." 
 
 There was reason in this, and his mother did not 
 gainsay it, but still she felt that it was not quite safe 
 for a boy to spend his evenings out in a large city, 
 without any one to look after him. 
 
 Roswell crossed Broadway, and, proceeding down 
 Eighth Street, met a boy of about his own age in 
 front of the Cooper Institute. 
 
 "How long have you been waiting, Ralph?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Not long. I only just came up." 
 
 " I couldn't get away as soon as I expected. Din- 
 ner was rather late." 
 
 "Have a cigar, Roswell? " asked Ralph. 
 
 " Yes," said Roswell, " I don't mind." 
 
 " You'll find these cigars pretty good. I paid ten 
 cents apiece." 
 
 "I don't see how you can afford it," said Roswell 
 • Your cigars must cost you considerable." 
 
 "I don't always bay ten-centers. Generally 1 
 pay only five cents." 
 
 1 Well, that mounts up when you smoke three oi 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 181 
 
 four in a day. Let me see, what wages do you 
 get?'* 
 
 " Seven dollars a week." 
 
 " That's only a dollar more than I get," said 
 Itoswell. 
 
 " I know one thing, it's miserably small," said 
 Ralph. " We ought to get twice what we do. 1 ' 
 
 "These shop-keepers are awfully mean," said 
 Roswell, beginning to puff away at his cigar 
 
 " That's so." 
 
 " But still you always seem to have plenty of 
 money. That's what puzzles me," said Roswell. 
 " I'm always pinched. I have to pay my mother 
 all my wages but a dollar a week. And what's a 
 dollar?" he repeated, scornfully. 
 
 " Well," said Ralph, " my board costs me all but 
 a dollar. So we are about even there." 
 
 " Do you pay your board out of your earnings ? ' 
 
 " I have to. My governor won't foot the bills, sc 
 I have to." 
 
 " Still you seem to have plenty of money," per- 
 sisted Roswell. 
 
 "Yes, I look out for that," said Ralph Graham, 
 significantly. 
 
282 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 "But I don't see how you manage. I might look 
 out all day, and I wouldn't be any the better off." 
 
 "Perhaps you don't go the right way to work," 
 said his companion, taking the cigar from his mouth, 
 and knocking off the ashes. 
 
 ' Then I wish you'd tell me the right way." 
 
 " Why, the fact is," said Ralph, slowly, " I make 
 my employer pay me higher wages than he thinka 
 he does." 
 
 " I don't see how you can do that," said Roswell, 
 who didn't yet understand. 
 
 Ralph took the cigar, now nearly smoked out, 
 from his mouth, and threw it on the pavement. Ho 
 bent towards Roswell, and whispered something in 
 his ear. Roswell started and turned pale. 
 
 " But," he said, "that's dishonest." 
 
 "Hush!" said Ralph, "don't speak so loud. 
 Oughtn't employers to pay fair wages, — tell me 
 that?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 '* But if they don't and won't, what then ? " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " Well, I do. We must help ourselves, that if 
 all." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 183 
 
 " But," said Roswell, " what would be thought 
 of you if it were found out ? " 
 
 "There's plenty of clerks that do it. Bless you, 
 it't, expected. I heard a man say once that he ex- 
 pected to lose about so much by his clerks." 
 
 " But I think it would be better to pay good 
 wv^es." 
 
 •' So do I, only you see they won't do it." 
 
 ' l How much do you — do you make outside of 
 yo^r salary ? ' ' asked Roswell. 
 
 " From three to five dollars a week." 
 
 " I should think they'd find you out." 
 
 " I don't let them. I'm pretty careful. Well, 
 what shall we do this evening ? There's a pretty 
 good play at Niblo's. Suppose we go there." 
 
 "I haven't got money enough," said Roswell. 
 
 " Well, I'll pay for both to-night. You can pay 
 another time." 
 
 "All right!" said Roswell, though he did no* 
 know when he should have money enough to return 
 the favor. They crossed to Broadway, and walked 
 leisurely to Niblo's Garden. The performance last- 
 ed till late, and it was after eleven when Roswel 1 
 Crawford got into bed. 
 
184 MAJiK, THE MATCH BO? £ 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE FIRST STEP. 
 
 To <Io Roswell Crawford justice, the idea of taking 
 money from his employer had never occurred to him 
 until the day when it was suggested to him by Ralph 
 Graham. The suggestion came to him at an unfor- 
 tunate time. He had always felt with a sense of 
 bitter injustice that his services were poorly compen- 
 sated, and that his employer was making money out 
 of him. Yet he knew very well that there was no 
 chance of an advance. Besides, he really felt the 
 need of more money to keep up appearances equal to 
 Ralph Graham, and some other not very creditable 
 acquaintances that he had managed to pick up. So 
 Roswell allowed Ralph's suggestion to recur to his 
 mind with dangerous frequency. He was getting 
 familiar with what had at first startled and shocked 
 him. 
 
 But it was not at once that he brought his mind 
 
OR, RICHARD IIUNTER'S WARD. 185 
 
 to the point. He was not possessed of much courage, 
 and could not help fearing that he would get himself 
 into a scrape. It needed a little more urging on the 
 part of Ralph. 
 
 " Well, Roswell," said Ralph, a few evenings after 
 the conversation recorded in the last chapter, " when 
 are you going to take me to the theatre? " 
 
 " I didn't know I was going to take you at all," 
 said Roswell. 
 
 " Come, there's no use in crawling off that way. 
 Didn't I take you to Niblo's last week? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And didn't you promise to take me some night 
 in return? " 
 
 " I should like to do it well enough," said Roswell 
 "but I never have any money." 
 
 "You might have some if you chose." 
 
 " The way you mentioned ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I don't like to try it." 
 
 " Then you are foolish. It's what half the clerKs 
 do They have to." 
 
 " Do you think many do it ? " said Roswell, irreso- 
 lutely. 
 
186 
 
 MARK, THE MATCH LOY ,* 
 
 "To be sure they do," said Ralph, confidently 
 
 " But I am sure it would be found out." 
 
 "Not if you're careful." 
 
 " I shouldn't know how to go about it." 
 
 " Then I'll tell you. You're in the store alone 
 Hjme of the time, I suppose." 
 
 " Yes, when Mr. Baker and Mr. Jones are gone to 
 dinner." 
 
 " Where is the money kept ? " 
 
 " There are two drawers. The one that has 
 the most money in it is kept locked, and Mr. 
 Baker carries away the key with him. He leaves a 
 few dollars in another drawer, but nothing could be 
 taken from that drawer without being missed." 
 
 " Does he keep much money in the first drawer ? " 
 
 "I expect so." 
 
 " Then," said Ralph, promptly, "you must man- 
 age to get into that." 
 
 "But how am I to do it?" asked Roswell. 
 " Didn't I tell you that it was kept locked, and that 
 Mr. Baker took the key ? " 
 
 " I can't say you are very smart, Roswell," said 
 Ralph, a little contemptuously. 
 
 " Tell me what you mean, then." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 187 
 
 " What is easier than to get a key made that will 
 fit the drawer ? All you'll have to do. is to take an 
 impression of the lock with sealing-wax, and carry i 
 to a locksmith. He'll make you a key for two shil- 
 lings." 
 
 " I don't know," said Roswell, undecidedly. "I 
 don't quite like to do it." 
 
 " Do just as you please," said Ralph ; " only if I 
 carry you to the theatre I expect you to return the 
 compliment." 
 
 "Well, I'll think of it," said Roswell. 
 
 " There is another way you can do," suggested 
 Ralph, who was full of evil suggestions, and was 
 perhaps the most dangerous counsellor that Roswell 
 could have had at this time. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " If you make any sales while you are alone you 
 might forget to put the money into the drawer." 
 
 " Yes, I might do that." 
 
 ' 4 And ten to one Baker would never suspect. Of 
 course he doesn't know every book he has in his 
 store or the exact amount of stationery he keeps on 
 hand." 
 
 " No, I suppose not." 
 
138 MARK, THE MATCH BOY', 
 
 "You might begin that way. There couldn't be 
 any danger of detection." 
 
 This suggestion struck Roswell more favorably than 
 the first, as it seemed safer. Without giving any 
 leciled answer, he suffered the thought to sink into 
 lis mind, and occupy his thoughts. 
 
 The next day when about the middle of the day 
 Roswell found himself alone, a customer came in and 
 bought a package of envelopes, paying twenty-five 
 cents. 
 
 With a half-guilty feeling Roswell put this sum 
 into his pocket. 
 
 " Mr. Baker will never miss a package of enve- 
 lopes," he thought. 
 
 He sold two or three other articles, but the money 
 received for these he put into the drawer. He did 
 not dare to take too much at first. Indeed, he took 
 a little credit to himself, so strangely had his ideas 
 of honesty got warped, for not taking more when he 
 might have done so as well as not. 
 
 Mr. Baker returned, and nothing was said. Aa 
 might have been expected, he did not miss the small 
 Bum which Roswell had appropriated. 
 
 That evening Roswell bought a couple of cigan 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 189 
 
 with the money lie had stolen (we might as well call 
 things by their right names), and treated Ralph to 
 one. 
 
 " There's a splendid play on at Wallack'e," said 
 he 7 suggestively. 
 
 " Perhaps we'll go to-morrow evening," said Ros* 
 well. 
 
 " That's the way to talk," said Ralph, looking 
 keenly at Roswell. "Is there anything new with 
 you ? " 
 
 " Not particularly," said Roswell, coloring a little, 
 for he did not care to own what he had done to his 
 companion, though it was from him that he had re- 
 ceived the advice. 
 
 The next day when Roswell was again alone, a 
 lady entered the shop. 
 
 "Have you got La Fontaine's Fables in Eng- 
 lish ? " she asked. " I have asked at half a dozen 
 stores, but I can't find it. I am afraid it is out o\ 
 print." 
 
 " Yes, I believe we have it," said Roswell. 
 
 He remembered one day when he was looking for 
 a book he wanted to read, that he had come across a 
 shop-worn copy of La Fontaine's Fables. It wa* 
 
190 MARK, THE MATCH BOY} 
 
 on a back shelf, in an out of-the-way place. He 
 looked for it, and found his memory had served him 
 correctly. 
 
 '■ Here it is," he said, handing it down. 
 
 "lam very glad to get it," said the lady. How 
 much will it be ? " 
 
 " The regular price is a dollar and a quarter, but 
 as this is a little shop-worn you may have it for a 
 dollar.'' 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 The lady drew out a dollar bill from her purse, 
 and handed it to Roswell. 
 
 He held it in his hand till she was fairly out of 
 the door. Then the thought came into his n nd, 
 " Why should I not keep this money? Mr. B -ker 
 would never know. Probably he has quite forge ;ten 
 that such a book was in his stock." 
 
 Besides, as the price of a ticket to the family cir- 
 cle at Wallack's was only thirty cents, this sum 
 would carry in him and his friend, and there w<" uld 
 be enough left for an ice-cream after they had got 
 through, 
 
 The temptation was too much for poor Rot ^elL 
 I call him poor, because I pity any boy whe fool 
 
OR, RlCflARD /lUNTJSR'S WARD. 131 
 
 ishly yields to such a temptation for the sake of a 
 tf mporary gratification. 
 
 Roswell put the money into his vest-p'vjket, and 
 shortly afterwards Mr. Baker returned to the store. 
 
 "Have you sold anything, Roswell? " he in- 
 quired, on entering. 
 
 "Yes, sir. I have sold a slate, a quire of note- 
 paper, and one of Oliver Optic's books." 
 
 Roswell showed Mr. Baker the slate, on which, as 
 required by his employer, he had kept a record of 
 sales. 
 
 Mr. Baker made no remark, but appeared to think 
 all was right. 
 
 So the afternoon passed away without any incident 
 worthy of mention. 
 
 In the evening Roswell met Ralph Graham, as 
 he had got into the habit of doing. 
 
 " Well, Roswell, I feel just like going to tne 
 theatre to-night," were his first words of salutation. 
 
 "Well, we'll go," said Roswell. 
 
 " Good ! You've got money to buy the tickets, 
 then ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Roswell, with an air of importance. 
 « What's the play ? " 
 
192 MARK, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 " It's a London play that's had a great run. Tom 
 Hastings tells me it is splendid. You take me there 
 to night, and I'll take you to the New York Circus 
 some evening next week." 
 
 This arrangement was very satisfactory to Ros- 
 well, who had never visited the circus, and had a 
 great desire to do so. At an early hour the boys 
 went to the theatre, and succeeded in obtaining front 
 seats in the family circle. Roswell managed to en- 
 joy the play, although unpleasant thoughts of how 
 the money was obtained by which the tickets were 
 procured, would occasionally intrude upon him. 
 But the fascination of the stage kept them from 
 troubling him much. 
 
 When the performance was over, he suggested an 
 ice-cream. 
 
 "With all my heart," said Ralph. "I feel 
 warm and thirsty, and an ice-cream will cool my 
 throat." 
 
 So they adjourned to a confectionery establishment 
 nearly opposite, and Roswell, with an air of impor- 
 tance, called for the creams. They sat leisurely 
 over them, and it was nearly half past eleven -when 
 Roswell got home. 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER S WARD. 198 
 
 " What keeps you out so late, Roswell? " asked 
 his mother, anxiously, for she was still up. 
 
 " I was at the theatre." said Roswell 
 
 " Where did you get the monev ? " 
 
 " It's only thirty cents to the family circle," said 
 Roswell, carelessly. " I'm tired, and will go right 
 up to bed." 
 
 So he closed the discussion, not caring to answer 
 many inquiries as to his evening's amusement. His 
 outlay for tickets and for the ice-cream afterwards 
 had just used up the money he had stolen, and all 
 that he had to compensate for the loss of his integ- 
 rity was a headache, occasioned by late hours, and 
 the warm and confined atmosphere at the theatre. 
 IS 
 
194 MARK* THE MATCH BOT i 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 RICHARD HUNTER IS PROMCTED. 
 
 It was with eager impatience that Mark awaited 
 the return of Richard Hunter, to communicate to 
 him his good luck in securing a place. The thought 
 that he had secured it by his own exertions gave him 
 great satisfaction. 
 
 " I've got a place," were his first words, as Rich- 
 ard entered the house. 
 
 "Already?" asked RichaTd Hunter. "You 
 have been quite smart, Mark. How dU you manage 
 to obtain it?" 
 
 Mark gave the particulars, whioh need not be 
 lepeated. 
 
 " What kind of a store is it ? " 
 
 "A bookstore." 
 
 " What is the name of your employer ? " 
 
 •' Baker.' 
 
 " Baker's bookstore ! " repeated Richard torouig 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 195 
 
 Lo Fosdick. " That is where our particular friend, 
 Roswell Crawford, is employed." 
 
 " Yes," said Mark ; " there's a boy there about t»ix- 
 teen or seventeen. I believe that is his name." 
 
 "lam not sure whether his being there will make 
 it pleasant to you. Does he know that you are a 
 friend of mine ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Mark; "he inquired particularly 
 about you, Mr. Hunter." 
 
 " He's very fond of me," said Dick ;"I suppose he 
 sent me his love." 
 
 "No," said Mark, smiling; "he didn't speak aa 
 if he loved you very much." 
 
 " He doesn't like me very much. I am afraid 
 when he gets to be president I shan't stand much 
 chance of an office. He didn't try to bully you, — 
 did he ? " 
 
 " He said he could get me sent off if I wasn't 
 careful to please him." 
 
 " That sounds like Roswell." 
 
 ' He talked as if he was one of the firm," said 
 Mark; "but when Mr. Baker came in, he began to 
 scold him for not dusting the books. After that J 
 didn't think so much of what he said." 
 
196 mark, the m^tch boy; 
 
 "It's a way he has," said Fosdick. "He don't 
 like me much either, as I got a place that he waa 
 trying for." 
 
 "If ho bullies you, just let me know," said 
 Richard. " Perhaps I can stop it." 
 
 "lam not afraid," said Mark. "Mr. Baker is 
 there most of the time, and he wouldn't dare to 
 bully me before him." 
 
 Sunday morning came, — a day when the noisy 
 streets were hushed, and the hum of business was 
 stilled. Richard Hunter and Fosdick still attended 
 the Sunday school, to which they had now belonged 
 for over two years. They were still members of 
 Mr. Greyson's class, and were much better informed 
 in religious matters than formerly. Frequently — 
 for they were favorite scholars with Mr. Greyson — 
 he invited them home to dine at his handsome resi- 
 dence. Both boys were now perfectly self-possessed 
 on such occasions. They knew how to behave at the 
 table with perfect decorum, and no one would have 
 judged from their dress, manners, or conversation, 
 that they had not always been accustomed to the 
 same style of living. 
 
 Mr. a/id Mrs Greyson noticed with pleasure the 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 197 
 
 great improvement in their proteges, and always 
 welcomed them with kind hospitality But there 
 was another member of the family who always 
 looked forward with pleasure to seeing them. This 
 was Ida, now a young lady of thirteen, who had 
 from the first taken an especial fancy to Dick, as she 
 always called him. 
 
 "Well, Mark," said Richard Hunter, on Sunday 
 morning, "wouldn't you like to go to Sunday- 
 school with me?" 
 
 " Yes," said Mark. " Mother always wanted me 
 to go to Sunday school, but she was so poor that she 
 could not dress me in suitable clothes." 
 
 " There is nothing to prevent your going now. 
 We shall be ready in about half an hour." 
 
 At the appointed time the three set out. The dis- 
 tance was not great, the church being situated foui 
 blocks farther up town on Fifth Avenue. They 
 chanced to meet Mr. Greyson on the church steps. 
 
 " Good-morning, Richard. Good-morning, Hen- 
 ry," he said. Then, glancing at Mark, " Who ia 
 your young friend?" 
 
 "His name is Mark Man ton," said Richard 
 ' He is my ward." 
 
198 MARK, THE MATCH POT; 
 
 11 Indeed ! I had not thought of you in the char- 
 acter of a guardian," said Mr. Greyson, smiling. 
 
 " I should like to have him enter one of the 
 younger classes," said Richard. 
 
 " Certainly, I will gladly find a place for him. 
 Perhaps you can take him in your class." 
 
 " In my class ! " repeated Richard, in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, I thought I had mentioned to you that Mr. 
 Brnton was about to leave the city, and is obliged to 
 gi^-e up his class. I would like to have you take it." 
 
 ' i But am I qualified to be a teacher?" asked 
 Richard, who had never before thought of being in- 
 vited to take a class. 
 
 " I think you have excellent qualifications for 
 such a position. It speaks well for you, however, 
 that you should feel a modest hesitation on the sub- 
 ject." 
 
 "I think Fosdick would make a better teacher 
 than I." 
 
 " Oh, I intend to draft him into the service also. 
 I shall ask him to take the next vacancy." 
 
 The class assigned to our friend Dick (we are 
 gometimes tempted to call him by his old, familiar 
 name) coasisted of boys of from ten to eleven years of 
 
On, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 199 
 
 age. Among these Mark was placed. Although he 
 had never before attended a Sunday school, hia 
 mother, who was an excellent woman, had given him 
 considerable religious - tstruction, so that he waa 
 about as well advanced 03 the rest of the class. 
 
 Richard easily adapted himself to the new situation 
 in which he was placed He illustrated the lesson 
 in a familiar and oftentimes quaint manner, so that 
 he easily commanded the attention of the boys, who 
 were surprised when the time came for the lesson to 
 close. 
 
 "lam glad you are my teacher, Mr. Hunter," 
 said one of the boys at the close of the service. 
 
 " Thank you," said Richard, who felt gratified at 
 the compliment. "It's new business to me, but I 
 hope I shall be able to interest you." 
 
 " Won't you come and dine with us? " asked Mr. 
 Greyson, as they were leaving the church. 
 
 Richard Hunter hesitated. 
 
 '' I don't know if Mark can find his way home," 
 he said with hesitation. 
 
 "Yes, I can, Mr. Hunter," said Mark. " Don't 
 trouble yourself about me." 
 
 "But I mean to have him come too," said Mr 
 
200 MARK) THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 Greyson. " Our table is a large one, as you know, 
 and we can accommodate three as well as two." 
 
 " D) come, Dick," said Ida Greyson. 
 
 Richard was seldom able to resist a request pre- 
 ferred by Ida, and surrendered at discretion. So, as 
 usual, Fosdick walked on with Mr. Greyson, this 
 time with Mark beside him, while Richard walked 
 with Ida. 
 
 " Who is that little boy, Dick? " asked the young 
 lady. 
 
 " That's my ward, Miss Ida," said Richard. 
 
 " You don't mean to say you are his guardian, 
 Dick?" 
 
 " Yes, I believe I am." 
 
 "Why," said the lively young lady, " I always 
 thought guardians were old, and cross, and bald- 
 headed." 
 
 "I don't know but that description will suit me 
 after a while," said Dick. " My hair has been com- 
 ing out lately." 
 
 " Has it, really ? " said Ida, who took this serious- 
 ly. "I hope you won't be bald, I don't think yoa 
 would look well." 
 
 " But I might wear a wig." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 201 
 
 " I don't like wigs," said the young lady, de- 
 idedly. " If you were a lady now, you might 
 wear a cap. How funny you'd look in a cap ! " 
 and she burst out into a peal of merry laugh- 
 ter. 
 
 " I think a cap would be more becoming to you," 
 said Richard. 
 
 " Do you ever scold your ward? " asked Ida. 
 
 " No, he's a pretty good boy. He don't need 
 it." 
 
 "Where did you get acquainted with him 9 Have 
 you known him long? " 
 
 " He was taken sick at the door of our office one 
 day. So I had him carried to my boarding-place, 
 and took care of him till he got well." 
 
 " That was very good of you," said Ida, approv- 
 ingly. " What did he use to do ? " 
 
 " He was a match boy." 
 
 " Does he sell matches now ? " 
 
 " No ; he has got a place in a bookstore." 
 
 " What did you say his name was? " 
 
 "Mark." 
 
 " That's a pretty good name, buf I don't like it so 
 well as Dick." 
 
202 MARK, THE MATCH BOT; 
 
 "Thank you," said Richard. "I am glad you 
 like my name." 
 
 At this moment they were passing the Fifth Ave- 
 nue Hotel. Standing on the steps were two ac- 
 quaintances of ours, Roswell Crawford and Ralph 
 Graham. They had cigars in their mouths, and 
 there was a swaggering air about them, which waa 
 not likely to prepossess any sensible person in their 
 favor. They had not been to church, but had 
 spent the morning in sauntering about the city, 
 finally bringing up at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, 
 where, posting themselves conspicuously on the 
 steps, they watched the people passing by on their 
 way from church. 
 
 Richard Hunter bowed to Roswell, as it was hia 
 rule never to be found wanting in politeness. Ros- 
 well was ill-mannered enough not to return the salu- 
 tation. 
 
 " Who is that, Roswell ? " asked Ralph Graham. 
 
 "It's a boot-black," said Roswell, sneeringly. 
 
 " What do you mean ? I am speaking of that 
 nice-looking young fellow that bowed to you just 
 now." 
 
 "Hia name is Hunter. He used to be a boot- 
 
OK, RICHARD ntrSTEIi'S WARD. 203 
 
 black, as I told you ; but he's got up in the world, 
 and now he's putting on airs." 
 
 " He seems to have got into good company, at any 
 rate. He is walking with the daughter of Mr. 
 Greyson, a rich merchant down town." 
 
 " He's got impudence enough for anything," sai 
 Itoswell, with a feeling of bitter envy which he could 
 not conceal. " It really makes me sick to see 
 him strutting about as if he were a gentleman's 
 son." 
 
 " Like you," suggested Ralph, slyly; for he had 
 already been informed by Roswell, on various occa- 
 sions, that he was " a gentleman's son." 
 
 " Yes," said Roswell, " I'm a gentleman's son, if 
 I'm not so lucky as some people. Did you see that 
 small boy in front? " 
 
 ' ' Walking with Mr. Greyson ? " 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so." 
 
 "What of him?" 
 
 " That's our errand boy," 
 
 "Is it?" asked Ralph, in some surprise. "He 
 *eeins to be one of the lucky kind too." 
 
 " He sold matches about the streets till a few 
 weeks ago," said Roswell, spitefully. 
 
204 
 
 MARK, THE MATCH BOY / 
 
 " He sold them to some purpose, it seems, for he's 
 evidently going home to dine with Mr. Greyson " 
 
 " Mr. Greyson seems to be very fond of low com 
 {.•any. That's all I can say." 
 
 " When you and I get to be as rich as he is, we 
 can choose our own company." 
 
 " I hope I shall choose better than he." 
 
 "Well, let's drop them," said Ralph, who waa 
 getting tired of the subject. "I must be getting 
 home to dinner." 
 
 " So must I." 
 
 " Come round to my room, after dinner, and we'll 
 have another smoke." 
 
 " Yes, I'll come round. I suppose mother' 11 be 
 wanting me to go to church with her, but I've got 
 tired of going to church." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 205 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE MADISON CLUB. 
 
 Tiv o days afterwards, when Roswell as usual met 
 nis fr*«ud Ralph, the latter said, with an air of im- 
 portance : — 
 
 "I've got news for you, Roswell." 
 
 "What is it ? " inquired Roswell. 
 
 " You've been unanimously elected a member of 
 our club." 
 
 "Your club ? !5 
 
 " Yes ; didn't I ever mention it to you? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Well, I believe I didn't". You see I intended 
 to propose your name as a member, and not feeling 
 certain whether you would be elected, I thought I 
 had better not mention it to you." 
 
 "What is the name of the club?" asked Ros- 
 well, eagerly. 
 
 " The Madison Club." 
 
206 MARK, THE MATCH BOY J 
 
 " What made you call it that ? " 
 
 " Why, you see, there's one fellow in the club 
 that lives on Madison Avenue, and we thought thai 
 would be an aristocratic name, so we chose it." 
 
 Roswell liked whatever was aristocratic, and the 
 name pleased him. 
 
 " Did you say I was unanimously elected, Ralph ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Yes ; I proposed your name at our meeting last 
 night. It was on account of that, that I couldn't 
 meet you as usual. But hereafter we can go to- 
 gether to the meetings." 
 
 " How many fellows belong ? " 
 
 " Twenty. We don't mean to have more than 
 twenty-five. We are quite particular whom we 
 elect." 
 
 • J Of course," said Roswell, in a tone of impor- 
 tance. "You wouldn't want a set of low fellows 
 like that Dick Hunter." 
 
 " No. By the way, I've got somewhere your 
 notification from the secretary. Here it is." 
 
 He drew from his pocket a note adorned with a 
 large and elaborate seal, which Roswell, opening, 
 found read as follows : — 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 207 
 
 "MADISON CLUB. 
 " Mr. Rosweix Crawfoud. 
 
 "Sir: — I have the honor of informing you that at th« 
 last regular meeting of the Madison Club you were unani- 
 mously elected a member. 
 
 " Yours respectfully, 
 
 "James Tracy." 
 
 This document Roswell read with much satisfac- 
 tion. It sounded well to say that he was a member 
 of the Madison Club, and his unanimous election 
 could only be regarded as a high compliment. 
 
 "I will join," he said, pompously. "When ia 
 the next meeting? " 
 
 " Next Tuesday evening." 
 
 " Where does the society meet? " 
 
 In a room on Fourth Avenue. You can come 
 round early, and we will go together." 
 
 " All right. What do you do at the meetings? " 
 
 " Well, we smoke, and tell stories, and have a 
 good time. Generally there are some eatables pro- 
 vided. However, you'll know all about it, when you 
 join. Oh, by the way, there's one thing I forgot to 
 tell you," added Ralph. "There's an initiation fee 
 of five dollars." 
 
208 MARK, THE MATCH BOY I 
 
 " A fee of five dollars! " repeated Roswell, so 
 beily. 
 
 '• Yes." 
 
 "What is it for?" 
 
 "To defray expenses, of course. There's the 
 rent, and lights, and stationery, and the eatables. 
 They always, I think, have an initiation fee at 
 clubs." 
 
 " Are there any other expenses? " 
 
 " Not much. There's only a dollar a month. 
 That isn't much." 
 
 " I don't know how I'm going to raise the five 
 dollars," said Roswell, soberly. " I could manage 
 the dollar a month afterwards." 
 
 " Oh, you'll think of some way," said Ralph. 
 
 " My mother wouldn't give it to me, so there's no 
 use asking her." 
 
 " Why can't you pay it out of your extra wages ? ' 
 said Ralph, significantly. 
 
 " I shouldn't dare to take such a large sum,' 1 said 
 Roswell. " They would find me out." 
 
 "Not if you're careful." 
 
 " They don't keep but a few dollars in the drawei 
 at one time." 
 
rMT, RICnARD HUNTER'S WARD. 209 
 
 " But didn't you tell me there was another 
 drawer? ' 
 
 " Yes ; but that is always kept locked." 
 
 " Open it then." 
 
 " I have no key." 
 
 " Get one that will fit it then." 
 
 " I don't like to do that." 
 
 " Well, it's nothing to me," said Ralph, "only I 
 should like to have you belong to the club, and you 
 can't unless you are able to pay the initiation fee." 
 
 "I would like very much to belong," said Ros- 
 well, irresolutely. 
 
 " I know you would enjoy it. We have splendid 
 times." 
 
 " I'll see what I can do to raise the money," said 
 Roswell. 
 
 " That's the way to talk. You'll manage to get 
 it some way." 
 
 It was a great temptation to Roswell. The more 
 he thought of it, the more he thought he should like 
 to say that he was a member of the Madison Club. 
 Lie had a weak love of gentility, and he was per- 
 Buaded that it would improve his social standing. 
 But he did not wish to adopt the course recommended 
 14 
 
210 MARK* THE MATCH BOY '/ 
 
 by Ralph if there was any other way of getting the 
 money. He determined, therefore, first to make the 
 effort to obtain the money from his mother on somo 
 pretext or other. By the time he reached home, 
 which was at an earlier hour than usual, he had ar- 
 ranged his pretext. 
 
 "I am glad you are home early," said Mrs. 
 Crawford. 
 
 " Yes, I thought I'd come home early to-night 
 Mother, I wish you'd let me have four dollars." 
 
 "What for, Roswell?" 
 
 " I want to buy a new hat. This one is getting 
 shabby." 
 
 Roswell's plan was, if he could obtain the four 
 dollars from his mother, to make up the extra dol 
 lar out of sales unaccounted for. As to the failure 
 to buy the hat, he could tell his mother that he had 
 lost the money, or make some other excuse. That 
 thought did not trouble him much. But he was not 
 destined to succeed. 
 
 ;< Iam sorry you are dissatisfied with your hat, 
 Roswell," said Mrs. Crawford, "for I cannot poss'* 
 bly spare you the money now." 
 
 " So you always say," grumbled Roswell. 
 
Oil, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 211 
 
 " But it's true," said his mother. " I'm very 
 short just now. The rent comes due in a few days, 
 and I am trying hard to get together money enough 
 to pay it." 
 
 " I thought you had money coming in from youl 
 lodgers." 
 
 "There's Mr. Bancroft hasn't paid me for six 
 weeks, and I'm afraid I am going to lose his room- 
 rent. " It's hard work for a woman to get along. 
 Everybody takes advantage of her," said Mrs. Craw- 
 ford, sighing. 
 
 " Can't jou possibly let mo have the money by 
 Saturday, mother? " 
 
 " No, Roswell. Perhaps in a few weeks I can. 
 But I don't think your hat looks bad. You can go 
 and get it pressed if you wish." 
 
 But Roswell declared that wouldn't do, and left 
 the room in an ill-humor. Instead of feeling for his 
 mother, and wishing to help her, he was intent only 
 upon his own selfish gratifications. 
 
 So much, then, was plain, — in his efforts to raise 
 the money for the initiation fee at the club, ho 
 could not expect any help from his mother. H« 
 must rely upon other means. 
 
212 MARK, THE MATCH BOY/ 
 
 Gradually Roswell came to the determination to 
 follow the dangerous advice which had been proffered 
 him by Ralph Graham. He could not bear to give 
 up the project of belonging to the club, and was wil- 
 ling to commit a dishonest act rather than forego the 
 opportunity. 
 
 He began to think now of the manner in which he 
 could accomplish what he had in view. The next 
 day when noon came he went round to the locked 
 drawer, and, lighting a piece of sealing-wax which he 
 had taken from one of the cases, he obtained a clear 
 impression of the lock. 
 
 "I think that will do," thought Roswell. 
 
 At that moment a customer entered the store, and 
 he hurried the stick of sealing-wax into his pocket. 
 
 When the store closed, Roswell went round to a 
 locksmith, whose sign he remembered to have seen 
 in Third Avenue. 
 
 He entered the shop with a guilty feeling at hi& 
 heart, though he had a plausible story arranged for 
 the occasion. 
 
 " I want a key made," he said, in a business-like 
 manner; "one that will fit this lock." 
 
 Here he displayed the wax impression. 
 
OK, RICHARD HUNTERS WARD. 213 
 
 " What sort of a lock is it ? " asked the locksmith, 
 looking at it. 
 
 " It is a bureau drawer," said Roswell. " We 
 have lost the key, and can't open it. So I took the 
 impression in wax. How soon can you let me have 
 it?" 
 
 " Are you in a hurry for it? " 
 
 "Yes; didn't I tell you we couldn't open the 
 drawer?" 
 
 " Well, I'll try to let you have it by to-morrow 
 night." 
 
 " That will do," said Roswell. 
 
 He left the locksmith's shop with mixed feelings 
 of satisfaction and shame at the thought of the uso 
 to which he was intending to put the key. It was a 
 great price he had determined to pay for the honoi 
 of belonging to the Madison Club. 
 
214 MARA', THE MATCH BOY ,' 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 ftOSWELL JOINS THE MADISON CLUB 
 
 It (rets not until Saturday night that Roswell ob- 
 tained the key. The locksmith, like tradesmen and 
 mechanics in general, kept putting him off, to Ros- 
 well 's great annoyance. 
 
 As he did not get the key till Saturday night, of 
 course there would be no opportunity of using it till 
 Monday. The only time then was the hour in which 
 Mr. Baker and Mr. Jones were absent, and Roswell 
 was left alone. But to his great vexation, an old 
 gentleman came in directly after Mr. Baker went 
 out, and inquired for him. 
 
 "He's gone to dinner," said Roswell. 
 
 "I think I'll wait till he returns," said the 
 Visitor, coolly sitting down in Mr. Baker's arm-chair. 
 
 Roswell was in dismay, for this would of course 
 prevent his using the key which he had taken so 
 much trouble to obtain. 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 215 
 
 "Mr. Baker is always out a good while," said 
 Roswell. 
 
 " Never mind, I can wait for him. I came in 
 from the country this morning, and shall not need to 
 Btart back till four." 
 
 "Perhaps," suggested Roswell, "you could go 
 out and do the rest of your errands, and come back 
 at two o'clock. Mr. Baker will be sure to be back 
 then." 
 
 " Who told you I had any more errands to do? " 
 asked the old gentleman, sharply. 
 
 " I thought you might have," said Roswell, some- 
 what confused. 
 
 "You are very considerate; but, as my business is 
 over for the day, I will ask your permission to re- 
 main till my nephew returns." 
 
 So this was Mr. Baker's uncle, a shrewd old gen- 
 tlemen, if he did live in the country. 
 
 "Certainly," said Roswell, but not with a very 
 good grace, adding to himself; " there'll be no 
 chance for me to get the money to-day. I hope tha 
 old fellow won't come round again to-morrow." 
 
 The next day was Tuesday. In the evening th« 
 club was to meet, so there was no time to lose. 
 
216 MARK, THE MATCH EOT J 
 
 Fortunately, as Roswell thought, the coast was 
 clear. 
 
 "Suppose the key won't fit?' : \ie thought with 
 uneasiness. 
 
 It would have been lucky for Roswell if the key 
 had not fitted. But it proved to fit exactly. Turn- 
 ing it in the lock, the drawer opened, and br fore him 
 lay a pile of bills. 
 
 How much or how little there might be Roswell 
 did not stop to examine. He knew that a cus("omei 
 might come in at any time, and he must do at 
 once what he meant to do. At the top of the pile 
 there was a five-dollar bill. He took it, slipped it 
 hastily into his vest-pocket, relocked the drawer, 
 and, walking away from it, began to dust the books 
 upon the counter. 
 
 He felt that he had taken the decisive step. He 
 was supplied with the necessary money to pay the 
 initiation fee. The question was, would Mr. Baker 
 find it out ? 
 
 Suppose he should, how would it be possible to 
 evade suspicion, or to throw it upon some one 
 else? 
 
 " If I could make him think it was the matcb 
 
or, nicnARo hunter's ward. 217 
 
 boy," thought Roswell, "I should be ki.Iing two 
 birds with one stone. I must see what can be done." 
 
 When Mr. Baker returned, Roswell feared he would 
 gc to the drawer, but he did not seem inclined to do 
 this. 
 
 He just entered the store, and said, " Mr. Jones, 
 I am obliged to go over to Brooklyn on a little busi- 
 ness, and I may not be back this afternoon." 
 
 " Very well, sir," said Mr. Jones. 
 
 Roswell breathed freer after he had left the shop. 
 It had occurred to him as possible that if the money 
 were missed, he might be searched, in which case 
 the key and the bill in his pocket would be enough 
 to convict him. Now he should not see Mr. Baker 
 again till the next day probably, when the money 
 would be disposed of. 
 
 Mr. Baker, as he anticipated, did not return from 
 Brooklyn before Roswell left the store. 
 
 Roswell snatched a hasty supper, and went over lo 
 his friend, Ralph Graham's room, immediately after- 
 wards. 
 
 "Glad to see you, Roswell," said Ralph; "are 
 you coming to the club with me to-night?" 
 
 " Yes," said Roswell. 
 
218 MARK, THE MATCH BOY J 
 
 11 Have you got the five dollars ?'' 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 ' How did you manage it? " 
 
 " Oh, I contrived to get it," said Roswell, who did 
 Qot like to confess in what way he had secured pos- 
 session of the money. 
 
 " We'', it's all right, as long as you've got it. I 
 was afraid you wouldn't succeed." 
 
 " So was I," said Roswell. " I had hard work of 
 it. What time do the club meetings begin ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " At eight o'clock, but I generally go round about 
 half an hour before. Generally, some of the fellows 
 are there, and we can have a social chat. I guess 
 we'll go round at half-past seven, and that will give 
 me a chance to introduce you to some of the members 
 before the meeting begins." 
 
 "I should like that," said Roswell. 
 
 In a short time the boys set out. They paused 
 before a small house on Fourth Avenue, and rang the 
 bell. The summons was answered by a colored 
 man. 
 
 "Any members of the club upstairs?'' inquired 
 Ralph. 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WAT '. 219 
 
 " YbB, sir," said the attendant. " There's Mr. 
 Tracy, Mr. Wilmot, and Mr. Burgess." 
 
 " Very well, I'll go up." 
 
 "Jackson," said Ralph, "this gentleman is Mr 
 Crawford, a new member." 
 
 "Glad to make jour acquaintance, sir," said 
 Jackson. 
 
 " Thank you," said Roswell. 
 
 " Jackson takes care of the club-room," explained 
 Ralph, " and is in attendance to admit the members 
 on club nights. Now let us go upstairs." 
 
 They went up one flight of stairs, and opened the 
 door of a back room. 
 
 It was not a very imposing-looking apartment, being 
 only about twenty feet square, the floor covered with 
 a faded carpet, while the furniture was not particular- 
 ly sumptuous. At one end of the room was a table, 
 behind which were two arm-chairs. 
 
 " That is where the president and secretary &,t," 
 said Ralph. 
 
 There were already three or four youths in the 
 room. One of them came forward and offered bij 
 hand to Ralph. 
 
 " How are you, Graham ? " he said. 
 
220 MARK, THE MATCH BOT' r 
 
 " ILow are you, Tracy ? " returned Ralph 
 " This is Mr. Crawford, who was elected a raembei 
 at our last meeting. Roswell, this is Mi Tracy, 
 our secretary." 
 
 "I am glad to see you, Mr. Crawford," said 
 Tracy. " I hope you received the notification of 
 your election which I sent you." 
 
 " Yes," said Roswell. "I am much obliged to 
 you." 
 
 " I hope you intend to accept." 
 
 "It will give me great pleasure," said Roswell. 
 11 You must have very pleasant meetings." 
 
 "I hope you will find them pleasant. By the 
 way, here is our president, Mr. Brandon. Brandon, 
 let me introduce you to a new member of our society, 
 Mr. Crawford." 
 
 The president, who was a tall young man of 
 eighteen, bowed graciously to Roswell. 
 
 " Mr. Crawford," said he, " allow me, in the name 
 of the society, to bid you welcome to our gay and 
 festive meetings. We are a band of good fellows. 
 who like to meet together and have a social time. 
 We are proud to receive you into our raak*." 
 
 "And I am very glad to belong," w»J Roswell, 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 221 
 
 who felt highly pleased at the cordial manner iu 
 which he was received. 
 
 " You'd better go to the secretary, and enter your 
 name in the books of the club," suggested Ralph. 
 "You can pay him the five dollars at the same time. 
 Here, Tracy, Mr. Crawford wants to enroll hia 
 name." 
 
 " All right," said Tracy ; " walk this way if you 
 please, Mr. Crawford." 
 
 Roswell wrote down his name, residence, and the 
 store where he was employed. 
 
 " I see, Mr. Crawford, you are engaged in literary 
 pursuits," said the secretary. 
 
 "Yes, for the present," said Roswell. "I don't 
 think I shall remain long, as the book business 
 doesn't give me scope enough ; but I shall not leave 
 at present, as it might inconvenience Mr. Baker. 
 What is your initiation fee?" 
 
 " Five dollars." 
 
 " I happen to have the money with me, I believe,' 
 said Roswell. " Here it ; s " 
 
 " Thank you; that is right. I will enter you aa 
 paid The monthly assessments are one dollar, aa 
 perhaps Graham told you." 
 
222 MARK, THE MATCH BOY / 
 
 " Yes, I think he mentioned it. It is quite rea- 
 sonable, I think," said Roswell, in a tone ^hich 
 seemed to indicate that he was never at a loss foif 
 money. 
 
 " Yes, I think so, considering our expenses. You 
 see we have to pay for the room ; then we pay 
 Jackson's wages, and there are cigars, etc., for the 
 use of the members. Have you ever before belonged 
 to a club? " 
 
 " No," said Roswell. " I have always declined 
 hitherto (he had never before received an invitation) 
 but I was so much pleased with what I heard of th 
 Madison Club from my friend Graham, that I deter- 
 mined to join. I am glad that you are particular 
 whom you admit as members of the club." 
 
 " Oh, yes, we are very exclusive," said Tracy. 
 "We are not willing to admit anybody and every- 
 body." 
 
 Meanwhile there had been numerous arrivals, until 
 probably nearly all the members of the club were 
 present. 
 
 '* Order, gentlemen ! " said the president, assum- 
 ing the chair, and striking the table at the same 
 time " The club will please come to order." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 223 
 
 There was a momentary confusion, but at length 
 the members settled into their seats, and silence pre- 
 vailed. Roswell Crawford took a seat beside RalpJb 
 Graham 
 
224 MARK* THE MATCH BOTJ 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A CLUB NIGHT. 
 
 'The secretary will read the journal of the last 
 meeting," said President Brandon. 
 
 Tracy iose, and read a brief report, which was 
 accepted, according to form. 
 
 " Is there any business to come before the club ? ' 
 inquired the president. 
 
 "I would like to nominate a friend of mine as a 
 member of the club," said Burgess. 
 
 " What's his name? " inquired a member. 
 
 "Henry Dmyton." 
 
 " Will Mr. Burgess give some account of his friend, 
 so that the members can vote intelligently on hia 
 election ? " requested Brandon. 
 
 " He's a jolly sort of fellow, and a good singer," 
 said Burgess. " He'll help make our meetings 
 lively. He's about my age — " 
 
 " In his second childhood," suggested Wilmot. 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER* S WARD. 225 
 
 This produced a laugh at the expense of Burgess, 
 who took it good-naturedly. 
 
 "Has he got five dollars?" inquired another 
 member. 
 
 "His father is a rich man," said Burgess. 
 "There will be no fear about his not paying hia 
 assessments." 
 
 "That's the principal thing," said Wilmot. "1 
 second the nomination." 
 
 A vote was taken which was unanimously affirm- 
 ative. 
 
 " Mr. Drayton is unanimously elected a member 
 of the Madison Club," announced the president. 
 " Notification will be duly sent him by the secretary. 
 Is there any other business to come before the 
 club ? " 
 
 As there appeared to be none, Brandon added, 
 " Then we will proceed to the more agreeable duties 
 vhich have brought us hither." 
 
 He rang a small bell. 
 
 Jackson answered the summons. 
 
 " Jackson, is the punch ready ? " inquired the 
 president. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Jackson. 
 
 15 
 
226 MAliK, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 "Then bring it in. I appoint Wilniot and Bu.. 
 gess to lend you the necessary aid." 
 
 A large flagon of hot whiskey punch was brougnt 
 in and placed on a table. Glasses were produced 
 from a closet in the corner of the room, and it waa 
 Berved out to the members. 
 
 " How do you like it, Roswell? " inquired Ralph 
 Graham. 
 
 "It's — rather strong," said Roswell, coughing. 
 
 " Oh, you'll soon be used to it. The fellows will 
 begin to be jolly after they've drunk a glass or 
 two." 
 
 " Do they ever get tight ? " whispered Roswell. 
 
 " A little lively, —that's all." 
 
 The effect predicted soon followed. 
 
 " Wilmot, give us a song," said Burgess. 
 
 "What will you have?" said Wilmot, whose 
 flushed face showed that the punch had begun to 
 affect him. 
 
 " Oh, you can give us an air from one of the 
 operas." 
 
 " Villikens and his Dinah? '' suggested Tracy. 
 
 " Very good." said Wilmot. 
 
 Wilmot was one of those, who, with no voice at 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 227 
 
 musical euc, are under the delusion that they are 
 admirable singers. He executed the song in hia 
 usual style, and was rewarded with vociferous 
 applause, which appeared to gratify him. 
 
 " Gentleman," he said, laying his hand upon hia 
 heart, "lam deeply grateful for your kind appreci- 
 ation of my — " 
 
 " Admirable sinking, " suggested Dunbar. 
 
 " Of my admirable singing," repeated Wilmot. 
 gravely. 
 
 This speech was naturally followed by an out- 
 burst of laughter. Wilmot looked around him in 
 grave surprise. 
 
 "I don't see what you fellows are laughing at," 
 he said, " unless you're all drunk." 
 
 He sat down amid a round of applause, evidently 
 puzzled to understand the effect of his words. 
 
 After this, David Green arose, and rehearsed amid 
 great applause a stump speech which he had heard 
 at some minstrel entertainment which he had at- 
 tended. 
 
 " How do you like it, Roswell? " again inquired 
 Ralph Graham. 
 
 "It's splendid," said Roswell, enthusiastically. 
 
t2H MARK, THE MATCH BOT} 
 
 1 Are you glad you joined ? " 
 
 ' Yes; I wouldn't have missed it for a good 
 deal ' 
 
 " knew you'd say so. Have your glass filled 
 Here Jackson, fill this gentleman's glass." 
 
 Rot veil was beginning to feel a little light-headed; 
 but th( punch had excited him, and he had become 
 in a de p*ee reckless of consequences. So he made 
 no opp< ^ition to the proposal, but held out his glass, 
 which was soon returned to him filled to the 
 brim. 
 
 " Speech from the new member ! " called Dunbar, 
 after a while. 
 
 " Yes, speech, speech ! " 
 
 All eyes were turned towards Roswell. 
 
 " You'd better say something," said Ralph. 
 
 Roswell rose to his feet, but found it necessary to 
 Aold on to his chair for support. 
 
 "Mr. President," commenced Roswell, gazing 
 about him in a vacant way, " this is a great occa- 
 sion." 
 
 " Of course it is," said Burgess. 
 
 " We are assembled to-night — " 
 
 " So we are. Bright boy ! " said David Green 
 
On, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 229 
 
 "lama gentleman's son," continued Rjswell. 
 
 "What's the gentleman's name?" interrupted 
 Wilmot. 
 
 " And I think it's a shame that I should only be 
 paid six dollars a week for my services." 
 
 " Bring your employer here, and we'll lyncn 
 him," said Tracy. " Such mean treatment of a 
 member of the Madison Club should meet with the 
 severest punishment. Go ahead." 
 
 " I don't think I've got anything more to say," 
 said Roswell. " As my head doesn't feel just right, 
 I'll sit down." 
 
 There was a round of applause, and Wilmot arose. 
 
 " Mr. President," he said, gravely, " I have been 
 very much impressed with the remarks of the gentle- 
 man who has just sat down. They do equal credit 
 to his head and his heart. His reference to his 
 salary was most touching. If you will allow me, 1 
 will pause a moment and wipe away an unbidden 
 tear." (Here amid laughter and applause, Wilmot 
 made an imposing demonstraticn with a large hand- 
 kerchief. He then proceeded.) " Exouse my emo- 
 tion, gentlemen. I merely arose to make the motion 
 that the gentleman should furnish us a copy of his 
 
230 MAKK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 remarks, that they may be engrossed on parchment, 
 and a copy sent to the principal libraries in Europe 
 and America." 
 
 Roswell was hardly in a condition to understand 
 that fun was being made of him, but listened sober- 
 ly, sipping from time to time from his glass. 
 
 "The motion is not in order," said Brandon. 
 * The hour for business has gone by." 
 
 The punch was now removed, and cards were pro- 
 duced. The remainder of the evening was spent in 
 playing euchre and other games. Roswell took a 
 hand, but found he was too dizzy to play correctly, 
 and for the remainder of the evening contented him- 
 self with looking on. Small snms were staked among 
 some of the players, and thus a taste for gambling 
 was fostered which might hereafter lead to moral 
 shipwreck and ruin. 
 
 This was the way in which the members of the 
 Madison Club spent their evenings, — a very poor 
 way, as my young readers will readily acknowledge. 
 I heartily approve of societies organized by young 
 people for debate and mutual improvement. They 
 are oftentimes productive of great good. Seme of 
 our distinguished men dite their first impulse t<? 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 231 
 
 improve and advance themselves to their connection 
 with such a society. But the Madison Club had no 
 salutary object in view. It was adapted to inspire 
 a taste for gambling and drinking, and the money 
 spent by the members to sustain it was worse than 
 wasted. 
 
 Roswell, however, who would have found nothing 
 to interest or attract him in a Debating Society, was 
 very favorably impressed by what he had seen of the 
 Madison Club. He got an erroneous impression 
 that it was likely to introduce him into the society 
 of gentlemen, and his aristocratic predilections were, 
 as we know, one of Roswell's hobbies. 
 
 It was about eleven when the club broke up ita 
 meeting. Previous to this there was a personal diffi- 
 culty between Wilmot and Tracy, which resulted in 
 a rough-and-tumble fight, in which Wilmot got the 
 worst of it. How the quarrel arose no one could 
 remember, — the principals least of all. At last they 
 were reconciled, and were persuaded to shake hands. 
 
 They issued into the street, a noisy throng. Ros- 
 well's head ached, the punch, to which he was not 
 accustomed, having affected him in this way. Be- 
 sides this he felt a little dizzy. 
 
282 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 " I wish you'd come home with me, Ralph,'' ha 
 said to his friend. " I don't feel quite right." 
 
 " Oh, you'll feel all right to-morrow. Your head 
 will become as strong as mine after a while. I'm as 
 cool as a cucumber." 
 
 " It's rather late, isn't it? " asked Roswell. 
 
 '* Hark, there's the clock striking. I'll count 
 the strokes. Eleven o'clock ! " he said, after count- 
 ing. " That isn't very late." 
 
 Ralph accompanied Roswell to the door of hia 
 mother's house in Clinton Place. 
 
 " Good-night, old fellow ! " he said. " You'll be 
 all right in the morning." 
 
 "Good-night," said Roswell. 
 
 He crept up to bed, but his brain was excited by 
 the punch he had drank, and it was only after toss- 
 ing about for two hours that he at length sank into 
 a troubled sleep. 
 
OR, AICllAItV TIUS rEll'S WARD, 233 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 WHO WAS THE THIEF? 
 
 When Roswell rose the next morning he felt 
 cross and out of sorts. His head still ached a little, 
 and he wished he w^re not obliged to go to the store. 
 But it was out of the question to remain at home, so 
 he started about half an hour after the usual time, 
 and of course arrived late. 
 
 " You are late this morning," said Mr. Baker. 
 " You must be more particular about being here 
 in good season." 
 
 Roswell muttered something about not feeling 
 quite well. 
 
 Putting his hand into his pocket by chance, his 
 fingers came in contact with the key which he had 
 made to open the cash drawer. Just as he was pass- 
 ing Mark, he drew it out and let it drop into the 
 side-pocket of his jacket. So, if suspicion were ex- 
 cited, the key would be found on Mark, not on him 
 
234 MARK. TI1K MATCH BOY; 
 
 The critical moment came sooner than he had an> 
 ticipated. 
 
 A Mr. Gay, one of the regular customers of the 
 bookstore, entered a few minutes later. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Baker," he aaid. "Have 
 you got a £ Tribune ' this morning? " 
 
 "Yes, here is one. By the way, you are just 
 the man I Avanted to see." 
 
 " Indeed, I feel complimented." 
 
 " Wait till you hear what I am going to say. You 
 bought a copy of ' Corinne' here on Monday ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And handed me a five-dollar bill on the Park 
 Bank ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, I find the bill was a skilfully executed 
 counterfeit." 
 
 "Indeed ! I didn't examine it very closely. But 
 I know where I took it, and will give you a good bill 
 in exchange for it." 
 
 " I locked it up lest it should get out, ' said Mr. 
 Baker. 
 
 He went to the drawer which Roswell had opened 
 Roswell listened to this conversation with dismay 
 
OR, RIC/IARD HVXTER'S WARD. 235 
 
 He realized that he was in a tight place, for it waa 
 undoubtedly the five-dollar counterfeit which he had 
 taken, and paid to the Secretary of the Madison 
 Club. He awaited nervously the result of Mr. 
 Baker's examination. 
 
 " Don't you find it?" asked Mr. Gay. 
 
 " It is very strange," said Mr. Baker. " I placed 
 it at the top of a pile of bills, and now it ia 
 gone." 
 
 " Look through the pile. Perhaps your memory 
 is at fault," said Mr. Gay. 
 
 Mr. Baker did so. 
 
 " No," he said, " the bill has disappeared." 
 
 " Do you miss anything else ? " 
 
 " No. The money is just five dollars short." 
 
 " Perhaps you forget yourself, and paid it away to 
 a customer." 
 
 "Impossible; I always make change out of this 
 drawer." 
 
 " "Well, when you find it, I will make it right. I 
 am in a hurry this morning." 
 
 Mr. Gay went out. 
 
 "Has any one been to this drawer?' 1 inquired 
 Mr. Baker, abruptly. 
 
236 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 " You always keep it locked, — do you not? " said 
 Mr. Jones. 
 
 " And keep the key myself. Yes." 
 
 "Then I don't see how it could have beeo 
 opened." 
 
 " There was nothing peculiar about the lock. 
 There might easily be another key to fit it." 
 
 " I hope you don't suspect me, Mr. Baker ? " 
 
 " No, Mr. Jones, you have been with me five 
 years, and I have perfect confidence in you." 
 
 " Thank you, sir." 
 
 " I hope you don't suspect me, sir," said Roswell, 
 boldly. "I am willing to turn my pockets inside- 
 out, to show that I have no key that will fit the 
 lock." 
 
 t,t "Very well. You may do so." 
 
 Roswell turned his pockets inside-out, but of 
 course no key was found. 
 
 " How lucky I got rid of it ! " he thought. 
 
 " Now it's your turn, Mark," he said. 
 
 "I'm perfectly willing," said Mark, promptly. 
 
 lie put his hand into his pocket, and, to liia 
 unutterable astonishment and dismay, drew out a 
 key. 
 
OK, RICHARD HUNTER' S WARD. 237 
 
 " I didn't know I had this in my pocket/ 1 he said, 
 startled. 
 
 " Hand me that key," said Mr. Baker, sternly. 
 
 Mark handed it to him mechanically. 
 
 Mr. Baker went behind the counter, and fitted the 
 key in the bck. It proved to open the drawer with 
 ease. 
 
 " Where did you get this key ? " he said. 
 
 " I didn't know I had it, sir," said Mark, earnest 
 ly. ' I hope you will believe me." 
 
 " I don't understand how you can hope anything 
 of the kind. It seems very clear that you have been 
 at my drawer, and taken the missing money. When 
 did you take it ? " 
 
 " I have never opened the drawer, nor taken your 
 money," said Mark, in a firm voice, though his 
 cheek was pale, and his look was troubled. 
 
 "I am sorry to say that I do not believe you," 
 said Mr. Baker, coldly. " Once more, when did 
 you take the five dollars? " 
 
 " I did not take it at all, sir." 
 
 " Havu you lent the key to any one ? " 
 
 " No, sir. I did nof, know I had it." 
 
 " I don't know what to do in the matter," said the 
 
238 MJBK, THE MATCH BO. \, 
 
 bookseller, turning to Mr. Jones, his assistant. "It 
 seems clear to me that the boy took the missing 
 bill." 
 
 "I am afraid so," said Jones, who was a kind- 
 hearted man, and pitied Mark. " But I don't know 
 when he could have had the chance. He is never 
 left alone in the store." 
 
 "Roswell," said Mr. Baker, "have you left 
 Mark alone in the store at any time within two or 
 three days ? ' ' 
 
 Roswell saw the point of the inquiry, and deter- 
 mined, as a measure of safety, to add falsehood to 
 his former offence. 
 
 " Yes, sir," he said, in an apologetic tone, " I left 
 him in the store for two or three minutes yester- 
 day." 
 
 " Why did you leave him? Did you go out of 
 the store? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. A friend was passing, and I went out 
 to speak to him. I don't think I stayed more thao 
 two or three minutes." 
 
 " And Mark was left alone in the store? " 
 
 " Yes, sir I had no idea that any harm would 
 come of it." 
 

 OR, RICHARD HUNTER* $ WARD. 239 
 
 Mark looked intently at Roswell when he uttered 
 this falsehood. 
 
 " You had better confess, Mark, that you took the 
 money when Roswell was out of the store," said his 
 employer. "If you make a full confession, I will 
 be as lenient with you as I can, considering your 
 youth." 
 
 "Mr. Baker," said Mark, quietly, more at his 
 ease now, since he began to understand that there 
 was a plot against him, " I cannot confess what is 
 not true. I don't know what Roswell means by what 
 he has just said, but I was not left alone in the 
 store for a moment all day yesterday, nor did Ros- 
 well go out to speak to a friend while I was 
 about." 
 
 " There seems to be a conflict of evidence here," 
 said Mr. Baker. 
 
 "I hope the word of a gentleman's son is worth 
 more than that of a match boy," said Roswell, 
 haughtily. 
 
 "To whom do you refer, when you speak of a 
 match boy? " 
 
 "To him" said Roswell, pointing to Mark 
 " He used to be a vagabond boy about the streets. 
 
240 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 selling matches, and sleeping anywhere he could 
 No wonder he steals." 
 
 " I never stole in my life," said Mark, indignant- 
 ly. " It is true that I sold matches about the streets, 
 and I should have been doing it now, if it had not 
 been for my meeting with kind friends." 
 
 " As to his having been a match boy, that has uc 
 bearing upon the question," said Mr. Baker. "It 
 is the discovery of the key in his pocket that throws 
 the gravest suspicion upon him. I must see hia 
 friends, and inquire into the matter." 
 
 " Of course they will stand by him," said Ros- 
 well. 
 
 " We may get some light thrown upon his posses- 
 sion of the key, at any rate, and can judge for our- 
 selves." 
 
 " I shall keep you employed until this matter is 
 investigated," said Mr. Baker to Mark. " Here is a 
 parcel of books to be carried to Twenty-Seventh 
 Street. Come back as soon as they are delivered." 
 
 Mark went out with a heavy heart, for it troubled 
 him to think he was under suspicion. Theft, too, he 
 had always despised. He wondered if Richard 
 Hunter would believe him guilty. He could not 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER' S WARD. 241 
 
 bear to think that so kind a friend should think so ill 
 of him 
 
 But Mark's vindication was not long in coming. 
 He had been out scarcely ten minutes when Roswell, 
 on looking up, saw to his dismay Tracy, the secre- 
 tary of the Madison Club, entering the store. Hia 
 heart misgave him as to the nature of the business 
 on which he had probably come. 
 
 He went forward hastily to meet him. 
 
 " How are you, Crawford? " said Tracy. 
 
 " Pretty well. I am very busy now. I will see 
 you, after the store closes, anywhere you please." 
 
 " Oh," said Tracy, in a voice loud enough for Mr. 
 Baker to hear, "it won't take a minute. The bill 
 you gave me last night was a bad one. Of course 
 you didn't know it." 
 
 Roswell turned red and pale, and hoped Mr. 
 Baker did not hear. But Mr. Baker had caught 
 the words, and came forward. 
 
 " Show me the bill, if you please, young gentle- 
 man," he said. "I have a good reason for ack 
 ing" 
 
 " Certainly, sir," said Tracy, rather surprised 
 " Here it is." 
 16 
 
242 MARK, THE MATCH BOY / 
 
 A moment's glance satisfied Mr. Baker that it wan 
 the missing bill, 
 
 " Did Roswell pay you this bill ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " For what did he owe it? " 
 
 ' : I am the secretary of the Madison Club, and 
 thi3 was paid as the entrance fee." 
 
 "1 recognize the bill," said Mr. Baker. "I will 
 take it, if you please, and you can look to him for 
 another." 
 
 "Very well," said Tracy, puzzled by the worda, 
 the motive of which he did not understand. 
 
 " Perhaps you will explain this," said Mr. Baker, 
 turning to Roswell. "It seems that you took this 
 bill." 
 
 Roswell's cofidence deserted him, and he *tood 
 pale and downcast. 
 
 " The key I presume, belonged to you." 
 
 "Yes, sir," he ejaculated, with difficulty. 
 
 ;< And you dropped it into Mark's pocket, — thug 
 meanly trying to implicate him in a theft whict yov 
 bad yourself committed." 
 
 Roswell was silent. 
 
 " Uave you taken money before? " 
 
OR, RICHARD nUNTER'S WARD. 245 
 
 " I never opened the drawer but once." 
 
 " That was not my question. Make a full con- 
 fession, and I will not have you arrested, but shall 
 require you to make restitution of all the sums you 
 have stolen. I shall not include this bill, as it is 
 now returned to my possession. Here is a piece of 
 paper. Write down the items." 
 
 Roswell did so. They footed up a little over six 
 dollars. 
 
 Mr. Baker examined it. 
 
 " Is this all ? " he said. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Half a week's wages are due you, I will therefore 
 deduct three dollars from this amount. The re- 
 mainder I shall expect you to refund. I shall have 
 no lurther occasion for your services." 
 
 Roswell took his cap, and was about to leave the 
 store. 
 
 " Wait a few minutes. You have tried to impli- 
 cate Mark in your theft. You must wait till his 
 return, and apologize to him for what you have 
 attempted to do.' ; 
 
 " Must I dc this? " asked Roswell, ruefully. 
 
 1 ' You must, ' said Mr. Baker, firmly. 
 
244 MARK, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 When Mark came in, and was told how he had 
 been cleared of suspicion, he felt very happy. Ros- 
 well made the apology dictated to him, with a very 
 bad grace, and then was permitted to leave the store. 
 
 At home he tried to hide the circumstances at- 
 tending his discharge from his mother and his 
 cousin; but the necessity of refunding the money 
 made that impossible. 
 
 It was only a few days afterwards that Mrs. 
 Crawford received a letter, informing her of the death 
 of a brother in Illinois, and that he had left her a 
 small house and farm. She had found it so hard a 
 struggle for a livelihood in the city, that she decided 
 to remove thither, greatly to Roswell's disgust, who 
 did not wish to be immured in the country. But 
 his wishes could not be gratified, and, sulky and dis- 
 contented, he was obliged to leave the choice society 
 of the Madison Club, and the attractions of New 
 York, for the quiet of a country town. Let us 
 hope that, away from the influences of the city, his 
 character may be improved, and become more manly 
 and self-reliant. It is only just to say that he waa 
 led to appropriate what did not belong to him, by the 
 desire to gratify his vanity, and through the influ- 
 
OR. RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 245 
 
 ence of a bad adviser. If he can ever forget tha\ 
 he is a the son of a gentleman," I shall have some 
 hopes for him 
 
246 HARK. THE MATCH BOY! 
 
 CHAPTER XXIT. 
 
 AN EXCURSION TO FORT HAMILTON. 
 
 Towards the close of May there was a genera) 
 holiday, occasioned by the arrival of a distinguished 
 stranger in the city. All the store3 were to be 
 closed, there was to be a turnout of the military, 
 and a long procession. Among those released from 
 duty were our three friends, Fosdick, Richard Hun 
 ter, and his ward Mark. 
 
 " Well, Dick, what are you going to do to-mor- 
 row? " inquired Fosdick, on the evening previous. 
 
 " I was expecting an invitation to ride in & 
 barouche with the mayor," said Richard ; " but prob- 
 ably he forgot my address and couldn't send it. On 
 the whole I'm glad of it, being rather bashful and 
 not used to popular enthusiasm." 
 
 " Shall you go out and see the procession ? " con- 
 tinued Fosdick. 
 
OR, AI CHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 247 
 
 •'No," said Dick; "I have been thinking of 
 another plan, which I think will be pleasanter." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "It's a good while since we took an excursion. 
 Suppose we go to Fort Hamilton to-morrow." 
 
 "I should like that," said Fosdick. "I waa 
 never there. How do we get there ? " 
 
 " Cross over Fulton Ferry to Brooklyn, and there 
 we might take the cars to Fort Hamilton. It's 
 seven or eight miles out there." 
 
 " Why do you say ' might ' take the cars? " 
 
 " Because the cars will be crow T ded with excur 
 sionists, and I have been thinking we might hire a 
 carriage on the Brooklyn side, and ride out there in 
 style. It'll cost more money, but we don't often 
 take a holiday, and we can afford it for once. What 
 you do say, Mark? " 
 
 " Do you mean me to go? " asked Mark, eagerly. 
 
 " Of course I do. Do you think your guardian 
 would trust you to remain in the city alone ? ' ' 
 
 "I go in for your plan, Dick," said Fosdick 
 ' What time do you want to start ? " 
 
 " About half-past nine o'clock. That will give 
 us plenty of time to go. Then, after exploring the 
 
248 MARK, THE MATCH HOT J 
 
 fort, we can get dinner at the hotel, and drive where 
 we please afterwards. I suppose there is sea-bathing 
 near by." 
 
 Dick's idea was unanimously approved, and by no 
 one more than by Mark. Holidays had been few 
 and far between with him, and he anticipated the ex- 
 cursion with the most eager delight. He was only 
 afraid that the weather would prove unpropitious. 
 He was up at four, looking out of the window ; but 
 the skies were clear, and soon the sun came out 
 with full radiance, dissipating the night-shadows, and 
 promising a glorious day. 
 
 Breakfast was later than usual, a3 people like to in- 
 dulge themselves in a little longer sleep on Sundays 
 and holidays ; but it was over by half-past eight, and 
 within a few minutes from that time the three had 
 taken the cars to Fulton Ferry. 
 
 In about half an hour the ferry was reached, and, 
 passing through, the party went on board the boat. 
 They had scarcely done so, when an exclamation of 
 surprise was heard, proceeding from feminine lips, 
 and Dick heard himself called by name. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Hunter, this is an unexpected pleas 
 ure. I am so glad to have met you.' : 
 
Off, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 249 
 
 Turning his head, Dick recognized Mr. and Mrs. 
 Clifton. Both had been fellow-boarders with him in 
 Bleecker Street. The latter will be remembered by 
 the readers of "Fame and Fortune " as Miss Pey- 
 ton. When close upon the verge of old-maidenhood 
 3he had been married, for the sake of a few thousand 
 dollars which she possessed, by Mr. Clifton, a clerk 
 on a small salary, in constant pecuniary difficulties. 
 With a portion of his wife's money he had purchased 
 a partnership in a dry-goods store on Eighth Avenue ; 
 but the remainder of her money Mrs. Clifton had 
 been prudent enough to have settled upon her- 
 self. 
 
 Mrs. Clifton still wore the same ringlets, and ex- 
 hibited the same youthful vivacity which had char- 
 acterized her when an inmate of Mrs. Browning's 
 boarding-house, and only owned to being twenty- 
 four, though she looked full ten years older. 
 
 "How d'e do, Hunter?" drawled Mr. Clifton, 
 upon whose arm his wife was leaning. 
 
 "Very well, thank you," said Dick. "I see 
 Mrs. Clifton is as fascinating as ever." 
 
 " you wicked flatterer ! " said Mrs. Clifton, 
 shaking her ringlets, and tapping Dick on the shoul 
 
250 MARK, THE MATCH BO t , 
 
 der with her fan. " And here is Mr. Fosdick too, 
 J declare. How do you do, Mr. Fosdick ? " 
 
 " Quite well, thank you, Mrs. Clifton." 
 
 "I declare I've a great mind to scold you for not 
 coming round to see us. I should so much like to 
 tear you sing again." 
 
 "My friend hasn't sung since your marriage. 
 Mrs. Clifton," said Dick. " He took it very much 
 to heart. I don't think he has forgiven Clifton yet 
 for cutting him out." 
 
 " Mr. Hunter is speaking for himself," said Fos- 
 dick, smiling. " He has sung as little as I have." 
 
 " Yes, but for another reason," said Dick. "I 
 did not think it right to run the risk of driving 
 iway the boarders; so, out of regard to my land- 
 lady, I repressed my natural tendency to war- 
 ble." 
 
 "I see you're just as bad as ever," said Mrs. 
 Clifton, in excellent spirits. " But really you must 
 c:>me round and see us. We are boarding in West 
 Sixteenth Street, between Eighth and Ninth Ave- 
 Dver." 
 
 " If your husband will promise not to be jealous " 
 s/vid D.'ck 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 251 
 
 11 I'm not subject to that complaint," said Clifton, 
 coolly " Got a cigar about you, Hunter? " 
 
 •'No. I don't smoke." 
 
 " No, don't you though ? I couldn't get along 
 without it. It's my great comfort." 
 
 "Yes, he's always smoking," said Mrs. Clifton, 
 with some asperity. " Our rooms are so full of 
 tobacco smoke, that I don't know but some of my 
 friends will begin to think I smoke myself." 
 
 " A man must have some pleasure," said Clifton, 
 not appearing to be much discomposed by his wife's 
 remarks. 
 
 It may be mentioned that although Mrs. Clifton 
 was always gay and vivacious in company, there 
 were times when she could display considerable ill- 
 temper, as her husband frequently had occasion to 
 know. Among the sources of difficulty and disa- 
 greement was that portion of Mrs. Clifton's fortune 
 which had been settled upon herself, and of which 
 ihe was never willing to allow her husband the use 
 Df a single dollar. In this, however, she had some 
 justification, as ne was naturally a spendthrift, and. 
 if placed in his hands, it would soon have melted 
 away. 
 
2b2 MAIiK, THE MATCH UVi; 
 
 " Where are you going, Mr. Hunter ? ' ' inquired 
 Mrs Clifton, after a pause. 
 
 " Fosdick and I have planned to take a carriage 
 and ride to Fort Hamilton." 
 
 " Delightful ! " said Mrs. Clifton. " Why can't 
 we go too, Mr. Clifton?" 
 
 " Why, to tell the plain truth," said her husband, 
 " I haven't got money enough with me. If you'll 
 pay for the carriage, I'm willing to go." 
 
 Mrs. Clifton hesitated. She had money enough 
 with her, but was not inclined to spend it. Still the 
 prospect of making a joint excursion with Richard 
 Hunter and Fosdick was attractive, and she in- 
 quired : — 
 
 " How much will it cost? " 
 
 " About live dollars probably." 
 
 "Then I think we'll go," she said, "that is, if 
 our company would not be disagreeable to Mr. Hun- 
 ter." 
 
 "On the contrary," said Dick. "We will get 
 separate carriages, but I will invite you both to dine 
 with us after visiting the fort." 
 
 Mr. Clifton brightened up at this, and straightway 
 became more social and cheerful. 
 
©J?, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 253 
 
 " Mrs. Clifton," said Richard Hunter, £i I believe 
 I haven't yet introduced you to my ward." 
 
 "Is that your ward ? " inquired the lady, lock- 
 tog towards Mark. " What is his name? " 
 
 11 Mark Manton." 
 
 <: How do you like your guardian?" inquired 
 Mrs. Clifton. 
 
 " Very much," said Mark, smiling. 
 
 " Then I won't expose him," said Mrs. Clifton. 
 " We used to be great friends before I married." 
 
 " Since that sad event I have never recovered my 
 spirits," said Dick. " Mark will tell you what a 
 poor appetite I have." 
 
 " Is that true, Mark? " asked the lady. 
 
 " I don't think it's very poor," said Mark, with 
 a smile. 
 
 Probably my readers will not consider this con- 
 versation very brilliant ; but Mrs. Clifton was a sill v 
 woman, who was fond of attention, and was incapa- 
 ble of talking sensibly. Richard would have pre- 
 ferred not to have her husband or herself in the 
 company, but, finding it inevitable, submitted to it 
 With as good a grace as possible. 
 
 Carriages were secured at a neighboring stably 
 
254 MARK) THJt MATCH £OT; 
 
 and the two parties started. The drive we*s found to 
 be very pleasant, particularly the latter portion, when 
 a fresh breeze from the sea made the air delightfully 
 cool. As they drove up beside the fort, they heard 
 the band within, playing a march, and, giving their 
 horses in charge, they were soon exploring the inte- 
 rior. The view from the ramparts proved to be fine, 
 commanding a good view of the harbor and the city 
 of New York, nearly eight miles distant to the 
 north. 
 
 " It is a charming view," said Mrs. Clifton, with 
 girlish enthusiasm. 
 
 " I know what will be more charming," said her 
 husband. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " A prospect of the dinner-table. I feel awfully 
 hungry." 
 
 "Mr. Clifton never thinks of anything but eat- 
 ing," said his wife. 
 
 " By Jove ! you can do your share at that," re- 
 torted her husband not very gallantly. " You'd 
 ought to see her eat, Hunter." 
 
 " I don't eat more than a little bird," said Mrs 
 Clifton, affectedly. " I appeal to Mr. Hunter." 
 
OR, RICHARD nVNTER S WARD. 253 
 
 u If any little bird ate as much as you, he'd 
 \<e sure to die of dyspepsy" said her husband. If 
 the word in italics is incorrectly spelled, I am not 
 responsible, as that is the way Mr Clifton pro- 
 nounced it. 
 
 " I confess the ride has given me an appetite 
 also," said Dick. " Suppose we go round to the 
 hotel, and order dinner." 
 
 They were soon seated round a bountifully spread 
 dinner-table, to which the whole party, not except- 
 ing Mrs. Clifton, did excellent justice. It will not 
 be necessary or profitable to repeat the conversation 
 which seasoned the repast, as, out of deference to 
 Mrs. Clifton's taste, none of the party ventured upon 
 any sensible remarks. 
 
 After dinner they extended their drive, and then 
 parted, as Mr. and Mrs. Clifton decided to make a 
 call upon some friends living in the neighborhood. 
 
 About four o'clock Richard Hunter and his friends 
 started on their return home. They had about 
 reached the Brooklyn city line, when Fosdick sud- 
 denly exclaimed : — 
 
 " Dick, there's a carriage overturned a little way? 
 ahead of us. Do you see it? " 
 
256 MAIl-K, THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 Looking in the direction indicated, Dick saw th*l 
 Fjsdick was correct. 
 
 "Let us hurry on," he said. " Perhaps we may 
 be able to render some assistance." 
 
 Coming up, they found that a wheel had come off, 
 and a gentleman of middle age was leaning againsf 
 a tree with an expression of pain upon his features, 
 while a boy of about seventeen was holding the 
 horse. 
 
 "Frank Whitney!" exclaimed Dick, in joyful 
 recognition. 
 
 To Frank Whitney Dick was indebted for the 
 original impulse which led him to resolve upon 
 gaining a respectable position in society, as will be 
 remembered by the readers of " Ragged Dick ; " and 
 for this he had always felt grateful. 
 
 " Dick ! " exclaimed Frank, in equal surprise, 
 "lam really glad to see you. You are a friend in 
 aeed." 
 
 " Tell me what has happened." 
 
 " The wheel of our carriage came off, as you see 
 Mid my uncle was pitched out with considerable 
 violence, and has sprained his ankle badly. I wad 
 wondering what to do, when luckily you came up." 
 
OK, RICnARD HUNTER'S WARD. 257 
 
 ** Tell me how I can help you," said Dick, prompt- 
 ly, "and I will do so." 
 
 "We are stopping at the house of a friend in 
 Brooklyn. If you will give my uncle a seat in youi 
 carryall, for he is una^ie to walk, and carry him 
 there, it will be a grea T favor. I will remain and 
 attend to the horse and carriage." 
 
 " With pleasure, Frank. Are you going to re- 
 main in this neighborhood long? " 
 
 " I shall try to gain admission to the sophomore 
 class of Columbia College this summer, and shall 
 then live in New York, where I hope to see you 
 often. I intended to enter last year, but decided for 
 some reasons to delay a year. However, if I am ad- 
 mitted to advanced standing, I shall lose nothing. 
 Give me your address, and I will call on you very 
 soon." 
 
 "I am afraid I shall inconvenience you," said 
 Mr. Whitney. 
 
 . " Not at all," said Dick, promptly. "We have 
 plenty of room, and I shall be glad to have an op- 
 portunity of obliging one to whom I am indebted 
 for past kindness." 
 
 Mr. Whitney was assisted into the carriage, and 
 
258 MARK, THE MATCH BOY. 
 
 they resumed their drive, deviating from theii 
 course somewhat, in order to leave him at the houso 
 of the friend with whom he was stopping. 
 
 "I am very glad to have met Frank again," 
 thought Dick : "I always liked hha." 
 
OX. RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 259 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 AN IMPORTANT DISCOVERT. 
 
 Mark remained in the bookstore on the same 
 footing as before. lie was not old enough to suc- 
 ceed to R. swell's vacant place, but Mr. Baker, as a 
 mark of ha satisfaction with him, and partly also to 
 compensate for the temporary suspicions which he 
 had entertained of his honesty, advanced his wages a 
 dollar a weei. He therefore now received four dol- 
 lars, which yielded him no little satisfaction, as it 
 enabled him to pay a larger share of his expenses. 
 
 They were all seated in Richard Hunter's pleasant 
 room in St. Mark's Place one evening, when Dick 
 said suddenly : — 
 
 " Oh, by the way, Fosdick, I forgot to tell yo« 
 tt at I had a letter from Mr. Bates to-day." 
 
 " Did you ? What does he say ? " 
 
 " I will read it to you." 
 
?fiO MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 Richard drew the letter from the envelope, and 
 read as follows : — 
 
 " My dear Mr. Hunter : — I have received your letter, 
 reporting that you have as yet obtained no trace of my unfor- 
 tunate grandson, John Talbot. I thank you sincerely for your 
 kind and persistent efforts. I fear that he may have left New 
 York, possibly in the care of persons unfit to take charge of 
 him. It is a great source of anxiety to me lest he should be 
 suffering privation and bad treatment at this moment, wh^n I, 
 his grandfather, have abundance of worldly means, and have it 
 in my power to rear him handsomely. I cannot help tr.eling 
 that it is a fitting punishment for the cruel harshness wit? 
 which I treated his mother. Now I am amassing wealtl 
 but I have no one to leave it to. I feel that I have sraa. 
 object in living. Yet I cannot give up the thought that mj 
 grandson is still living. I cannot help indulging the hope 
 that some day, by the kind favor of Providence, he may bf 
 given back to me. 
 
 " If it will not be too much trouble to you and Mr. Fos 
 dick, I shall feel indebted if you will still continue on the 
 watch for the lost boy. Any expenses which you maj 
 Incur, as I have already assured you, will be most cheer 
 Tally paid by your obliged friend and servant, 
 
 " Hiram Bates.' 
 
 While Kichard was reading this letter, Mark iiv. 
 teued attentively. Looking up, Richard observed this 
 
OR, RICHARD BUXTER'S WARD. 261 
 
 " Did you ever meet with a boy named John 
 Talbot. Mark?" he inquired. 
 
 " No," said Mark, " not John Talbot." 
 
 " Did you ever meet any boy named Talbot ! 
 It is not certain that the name is John." 
 
 " Talbot used to be my name," said Mark. 
 
 " Used to be your name ! " exclaimed Richard, in 
 surprise. " I thought it was Manton." 
 
 " Some of the boys gave me that name, because 
 there was a story came out in one of the story papers 
 about Mark Manton. After a while I got to calling 
 myself so, but my real name is Mark Talbot." 
 
 "It would be strange if he should turn out to 
 be the right boy after all, Dick," said Fosdick. 
 " Where is the photograph ? That will soon settle 
 the question." 
 
 Richard Hunter opened his desk, and took out the 
 card photograph which Mr. Bates had left with him. 
 
 " Mark," he said, " did you ever see any one wh« 
 looked like that picture?" 
 
 Mark took the picture in his hand. No sooner 
 did liis eyes rest upon it than they filled with tears. 
 
 " That is my mother ' he said. " Where did yoa 
 get it ? " 
 
262 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 " Your mother ! Are you sure? " 
 
 " Yes ; I should know it anywhere, though i*. 
 \ooks younger than she did." 
 
 " Do you know what her name was, before she 
 was married ? " 
 
 "Yes; she has told me often. It was Irene 
 Bates." 
 
 "How strange ! " exclaimed Richard and Fosdick 
 together. "Mark," continued Richard, "I think 
 you are the very boy I had been in search of for 
 several months. I had succeeded without know- 
 ing it." 
 
 "Please tell me all about it," said Mark. "I 
 don't understand." 
 
 " I have a great piece of good luck to announce 
 to you, Mark. Your grandfather is a rich man, 
 formerly in business in New York, but now a suc- 
 cessful merchant in Milwaukie. He has no child, 
 no descendant except yourself. He has been anx 
 iously seeking for you, intending to give you all the 
 advantages which his wealth can procure." 
 
 " Do you think I shall like him ? " asked Mark, 
 timidly. 
 
 " Yes ; I think he will be very kind to you.''* 
 
CWf, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 263 
 
 " But he was not kind to my mother. Although 
 he was rich, he let her suffer." 
 
 " He has repented of this, and will try to make 
 op to you his neglect to your mother." 
 
 Mark was still thoughtful. "If it had come 
 sooner, my poor mother might still have been alive," 
 he said. 
 
 " I think I had better telegraph to Mr. Bates 
 to-morrow," said Richard. " The news will be so 
 welcome that I don't like to keep it back a single 
 day." 
 
 " Perhaps it will be better," said Fosdick. " You 
 will have to give up your ward, Dick." 
 
 " Yes ; but as it will be for his good, I will not 
 object." 
 
 The next morning the following message was 
 flashed over the wires to Milwaukie : — 
 
 M Hiram Bates. 
 " Your grandson Is found. He Is well, and In my charge 
 
 " Richard Hunter." 
 
 In the course of the forenoon, the following 
 answer was received : — 
 
£64 MARK. THE MATCH BOJ ,' 
 
 " Richard IIuntkr. 
 
 "How can I thank you! I take the next train for T.en 
 fork. 
 
 " Hiram Batep." 
 
 On the afternoon succeeding, Mr. Bates entered 
 Richard's counting-room. He clasped his hand with 
 fervor. 
 
 " Mr. Hunter," he said, " I do not know how to 
 thank you. Where is my boy? " 
 
 " I am just going up to the house," said Richard. 
 " If you will accompany me, you shall soon see 
 him." 
 
 "lam impatient to hear all the particulars," said 
 Mr. Bates. "Remember, I know nothing as yet. I 
 only received your telegram announcing his dis- 
 covery. When did you find him? " 
 
 " That is the strangest part of it," said Richard. 
 " I found him sick just outside the office door several 
 weeks since. I took him home, and when he recov- 
 ered let him get a place in a. bookstore ; but, having 
 become interested in him, I was unwilling to lose 
 sight of him, and still kept him with me. All this 
 *vhile I was searching for your grandson, and had 
 not the least idea that he was already found." 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 265 
 
 " How did you discover this at last? " 
 
 " B y his recognition of his mother's photograph 
 It was lucky you thought of leaving it with me." 
 
 " Is his name John ? " 
 
 " He says his name is Mark, but for his last name 
 ho had adopted a different one, or I should have 
 made the discovery sooner." 
 
 "How did he make a living before you found 
 him? Poor boy!" said Mr. Bates, sighing, "I 
 fear he must have suffered many privations." 
 
 " He was selling matches for some time, — what 
 we call a match boy. He had suffered hardships, 
 but I leave him to tell you his story himself." 
 
 " How does he feel about meeting me?" asked 
 Mr. Bates. 
 
 " You are a stranger to him, and he naturally feels 
 a little timid, but he will soon be reassured when he 
 gets acquainted with you." 
 
 Mark had already arrived. As they entered the 
 room, Mr. Bates said with emotion, " Is that he ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Come here, Mark," he said, in a tone which took 
 away Mark's apprehension. " Do you know who I 
 im? " 
 
266 MARK) THE MATCH BOY ; 
 
 "Are you my grandfather ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have come to take care of you, and to see 
 tfiat you suffer no more from poverty." 
 
 Mr. Bates stooped down and pressed a kiss upon 
 the boy's forehead. 
 
 " I can see Irene's look in his eyes," he said. 
 ''It is all the proof I need that he is my grand 
 child." 
 
 It was arranged that in three days, for he had some 
 business to transact, he should go back to Milwaukie. 
 carrying Mark with him. He went round to Mr 
 Baker's store the next morning with his grandson 
 and explained to him why he should be obliged to 
 withdraw him from his employ. 
 
 "lam sorry to lose him," said Mr. Baker. " He 
 is quick and attentive to his duties, and has given 
 me excellent satisfaction ; but I am glad of his good 
 fortune." 
 
 "It gives me pleasure to hear so good an account 
 of him," said Mr. Bates. " Though he will be under 
 no necessity of taking another situation, but will for 
 geveral years devote himself to study, the same good 
 qualities for which you give him credit will insure 
 his satisfactory progress in school." 
 
OB, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 267 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 It was not long before Mark felt quite at home 
 v ith his grandfather. He no longer felt afraid of 
 him, but began to look forward with pleasant antici- 
 pations to his journey West, and the life that was to 
 open before him in Milwaukie. It was a relief to 
 think that he would not now be obliged to take care 
 of himself, but would have some one both able and 
 willing to supply his wants, and provide him with a 
 comfortable home. 
 
 He felt glad again that he was going to school. 
 He remembered how anxious his poor mother had 
 been that he should receive a good education, and 
 now his grandfather had promised to send him to the 
 best school in Milwaukie. 
 
 The next morning after their meeting, Mr. Bates 
 tc.fc Mark to a large clothing establishment, and 
 v&d him fitted out with new clothes in the most 
 
268 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 liberal manner. He even bought him a silver watch, 
 of which Mark felt very proud. 
 
 "Now, Mark," said his grandfather, "if there 
 is any one that was kind to you when you were a 
 poor match boy, I should like to do something to 
 show my gratitude for their kindness. Can you 
 think of any one? " 
 
 "Yes," said Mark; "there's Ben Gibson." 
 
 " And who is Ben Gibson? " 
 
 " He blacks boots down on Nassau Street. When 
 I ran away from Mother Watson, who treated me so 
 badly, he stood by me, and prevented her from get- 
 ting hold of me again." 
 
 " Is there any one besides ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Mark, after a pause; " there is Mrs. 
 Flanagan. She lives in the same tenement-house 
 where I used to. When I was almost starved she used 
 to give me something to eat, though she was pool 
 herself." 
 
 " I think we will call and see her first," said Mr 
 Bates. "lam going to let you give her a huadre.'i 
 dollars." 
 
 " She will be delighted," said Mark, his eyes 
 
OR, RICHARD HLNTER T S WARD. 269 
 
 sparkling with joy. " It will seem a fortune to her. 
 Let us go at once '" 
 
 Very well," said his grandfather. "After, 
 wards we will try to find your friend Ben." 
 
 I forgot to mention that Mr. Bates was stopping 
 at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. 
 
 They took the University Place cars, which landed 
 them at the junction of Barclay Street and Broad- 
 way. From thence it was but a short distance to 
 Vandewater Street, where Mark lived when first 
 introduced to the reader. 
 
 They climbed the broken staircase, and paused in 
 front of Mrs. Flanagan's door. 
 
 Mark knocked. 
 
 Mrs. Flanagan opened the door, and stared with 
 some surprise at her visitors. 
 
 "Don't you know me, Mrs. Flanagan?" asked 
 Mark. 
 
 " Why, surely it isn't Mark, the little match 
 boy? " said Mrs. Flanagan, amazed. 
 
 " Yes, it is. So you didn't know me ? " 
 
 "And it's rale delighted I am to see you lookin' 
 10 fine. And who is this gentleman ? " 
 
270 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 " It is my grandfather, Mrs. Flanagan. I'm 
 going out West to live with him." 
 
 Mrs. Flanagan dropped a courtesy to Mr. Bates, 
 who said, " My good woman, Mark tells me that you 
 were kind to him when he stood in need of kind- 
 ness " 
 
 " And did he say that? " said Mrs. Flanagan, her 
 face beaming with pleasure. " Shure it was little I 
 did for him, bein' poor myself ; but that little he was 
 heartily welcome to, and I'm delighted to think he's 
 turned out so lucky. The ould woman trated him 
 eery bad. I used to feel as if I'd like to break her 
 ould bones for her." 
 
 "Mark and I both want to thank you for your 
 kindness to him, and he has a small gift to give you." 
 
 " Here it is," said Mark, drawing from his pocket 
 a neat pocket-book, containing a roll of bills. "You'll 
 find a hundred dollars inside, Mrs. Flanagan," he 
 gaid. " I hope they will help you." 
 
 " A hundred dollars ! " ejaculated Mrs. Flanagan, 
 hardly believing her ears. " Does this good gentle- 
 man give me a hundred dollars ! " 
 
 "No it is Mark's gift to you," said Mr. Bates. 
 
 " It's rich I am with so much money," said the 
 
OR, RICnARD HUNTER'S WARD. 271 
 
 good woman. "May the saints bless you both! 
 Now I can buy some clothes for the childer, and have 
 plenty left beside. This is a happy day entirely. 
 But won't you step in, and rest yourselves a bit ? 
 It's a poor room, but — " 
 
 "Thank you, Mrs. Flanagan," said Mr. Bates, 
 "but we are in haste this morning. Whenever Mark 
 comes to New York he shall come and see you." 
 
 They went downstairs, leaving Mrs. Flanagan so 
 excited with her good fortune, that she left her work, 
 and made a series of calls upon her neighbors, in 
 which she detailed Mark's good fortune and her 
 own. 
 
 "Now we'll go and find your friend, Ben Gib- 
 son," said Mr. Bates. 
 
 "I think we'll find him on Nassau Street," said 
 Mark. 
 
 He was right. 
 
 In walking down Nassau Street on the east side, 
 Mr. Bates was accosted by Ben himself. 
 
 '• Shine yer boots? " 
 
 " How are you, Ben? " said Mark. 
 
 Ben stared in surprise till he recognized hia old 
 companion. 
 
272 MA /IK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 " Blest if it aint Mark," he said. " How you'w 
 gettin on ! " 
 
 " Bm, this is my grandfather," said Mark. 
 
 " Well, you're a lucky chap," said Ben, enviously 
 " I wish I could find a rich grandfather. I don't 
 believe I ever had a grandfather." 
 
 "How are you getting on, my lad?" inquired 
 Mr. Bates. 
 
 "Middlin'," said Ben. "I haveD't laid by a 
 fortun' yet." 
 
 "No, I suppose not. How do you like blacking 
 boots?" 
 
 " Well, there's other things I mi^ht like bet- 
 ter," said Ben, — "such as bein' a rich merchant; 
 but that takes rather more capital than blackin' 
 boots." 
 
 "I see you are an original," said Mr. Bates, 
 smiling. 
 
 "Am I?" said Ben. "Well, I'm glad of it, 
 though I didn't know it before. I hope it aint any* 
 thing very bad." 
 
 " Mark says you treated him kindly when he lived 
 about the street." 
 
 " It wasn't much," said Ben. 
 
OR, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 273 
 
 " I want to do something for you. What shall 1 
 do?" 
 
 "Well," said Ben, "I should like a new brush. 
 This is most worn out." 
 
 " How would you like to go to Milwaukie with 
 Mark, if I will get you a place there? " 
 
 " Do you mean it? " said Ben, incredulously. 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " I haven't any money to pay for goin' out there." 
 
 " I will take care of that," said Mr. Bates. 
 
 "Then 1*11 go," said Ben, "and I'm much 
 obliged to you. Mark, you're a brick, and so's 
 your grandfather. I never expected to have such 
 good luck." 
 
 " Then you must begin to make arrangements at 
 once. Mark, here is some money. You may go 
 with Ben, see that he takes a good bath, and then 
 buy him some clothes. I am obliged to leave 
 you to dc it, as I must attend to some business 
 in Wall Street. I shall expect to see you both at 
 the Fifth Avenue Hotel at two o'clock." 
 
 At two o'clock, Mr. Bates found the two boys 
 awaiting him. There was a great change in Ben's 
 appearance. He had faithfully submitted to tha 
 
£74 MARK, THE MATCH BOY; 
 
 bath, and bloomed out in a tasteful suit of clothes, 
 selected by Mark. Mark had taken him besides to 
 a barber's and had his long hair cut. So he now 
 made quite a presentable appearance, though he felt 
 very awkward in his new clothes. 
 
 " It don't seem natural to be clean," he confessed 
 to Mark. 
 
 " You'll get used to it after a while," said Mark, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Maybe I will ; but I miss my old clothes. They 
 seemed more comfortable." 
 
 The next day they were to start. Een remained 
 at the hotel with his friend Mark, feeling, it must 
 be confessed, a curious sensation at his unusual po- 
 sition. 
 
 They went to make a farewell call on Richard 
 Hunter. 
 
 "Mr. Hunter," said Mr. Bates, "money will not 
 pay you for the service you have done me, but I 
 shall be glad if you will accept this cheque." 
 
 Richard saw that it was a cheque for a thousand 
 dollars. 
 
 " Thank you for your liberality, Mr. Bates. * he 
 said ; " but I do not deserve it." 
 
OK, RICHARD HUNTER'S WARD. 274 
 
 "Let me be the judge of that." 
 
 k< I will accept it on one condition." 
 
 " Name it, Mr. Hunter." 
 
 CI That you will allow me to give it to the News- 
 boys' Lodge, where I once found shelter, and ^he»e 
 bo many poor boys are now provided for." 
 
 " I will give an equal sum to that institution," 
 said Mr. Bates, "and I thank you for reminding me 
 of it. As for this money, oblige me by keeping it 
 yourself. ' ' 
 
 " Then," said Richard, " I will keep it as a char- 
 ity fund, and whenever I have an opportunity of 
 helping along a boy who is struggling upward as I 
 once had to struggle, I will do it." 
 
 "A noble resolution, Mr. Hunter! You have 
 frund out the best use of money." 
 
 Mark is now at an excellent school in Milwaukie, 
 pursuing his studies. He is the joy and solace of 
 his grandfather's life, hitherto sad and lonely, and ia 
 winning the commendation of his teachers by his de- 
 votion to study. A place was found for Ben Gibson, 
 where he had some advantages of education, and ha 
 is likely to do well. He has been persuaded by 
 
276 MARK, THE MATCH BOY. 
 
 Mark to leave off smoking, — a habit which he had 
 ibrmed in the streets of New York. The shrewdness 
 winch his early experiences taught him will be likely 
 to benefit him in the business career which lies be- 
 fore him. 
 
 Every year Mark sends a substantial present to 
 Mrs Flanagan, under his grandfather's direction, and 
 thu.» makes the worthy woman's life much more com- 
 fortable and easy. From time to time Mark receives 
 a btier from Richard Hunter, who has not lost his 
 interest in the little match boy who was once his 
 ward. 
 
 So the trials of Mark, the Match Boy, as far as 
 they proceeded from poverty and privation, are at an 
 end. He has found a comfortable and even luxurious 
 home, and a relative whose great object in life is to 
 study his happiness. I hope that the record of his 
 struggles will be read with interest by my young 
 readers, and shall hope to meet them all again in the 
 aext volume of this series, which will be called: 
 
 ROUGH AND READY; 
 
 OR, 
 
 LIFE AMONG THE NEW YORK NEWSBOYS. 
 
FAMOUS STANDARD 
 JUVENILE LIBRARIES. 
 
 ,1NY VOLUME SOLD SEPARATELY AT $1.00 PER VOLUMS 
 
 (Except the Sportsman's Club Series, Frank Nelson Series and 
 
 Jack Hazard Series.). 
 
 Each Volume Illustrated. j2mo. Cloth* 
 
 HORATIO ALGER, JR. 
 
 The enormous sales of the books of Horatio Alger, Jr., 
 show the greatness of his popularity among the boys, and 
 prove that he is one of their most favored writers. I am told 
 that more than half a million copies altogether have been 
 sold, and that all the large circulating libraries in the country 
 have several complete sets, of which only two or three vol- 
 umes are ever on the shelves at one time. If this is true, 
 what thousands and thousands of boys have read and are 
 reading Mr. Alger's books ! His peculiar style of stories, 
 often imitated but never equaled, have taken a hold upon the 
 young people, and, despite their similarity, are eagerly read 
 as soon as they appear. 
 
 Mr. Alger became famous with the publication of that 
 mdying book, "Ragged Dick, or Street Life in New York." 
 It was his first book for young people, and its success was so 
 great that he immediately devoted himself to that kind of 
 writing. It was a new and fertile field for a writer then, and 
 Mr. Alger's treatment of it at once caught the fancy of the 
 boys. "Ragged Dick" first appeared in 1868, and ever since 
 then it has been selling steadily, until now it is estimated 
 that about 200,000 copies of the series have been sold. 
 
 — Pleasant Hours for Boys and Girls, 
 
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO. S POPULAR JUVENILES. 
 
 A writer for boys should have an abundant sympathy 
 with them. He should be able to enter into their plans, 
 hopes, and aspirations. He should learn to look upon life 
 as they do. Boys object to be written down to. A boy's 
 heart opens to the man or writer who understands him. 
 
 — From Writing Stories for Boys, by Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 
 RAGGED DICK SERIES. 
 
 6 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. #6.00 
 
 Ragged Dick. Rough and Ready. 
 
 Fame and Fortune. Ben the Luggage Boy. 
 
 Mark the Match Boy. Rufus and Rose. 
 
 TATTERED TOM SERIES— First Series. 
 
 4 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $4.00 
 
 Tattered Tom. Phil the Fiddler. 
 
 Paul the Peddler. Slow and Sure. 
 
 TATTERED TOM SERIES— Second Series. 
 
 4 vols. $4.00 
 
 Julius. Sam's Chance. 
 
 The Young Outlaw. The Telegraph Boy. 
 
 CAMPAIGN SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. fo.ofl 
 
 Frank's Campaign. Charlie Codman's Cruise 
 
 Paul Prescott's Charge. 
 
 lUCK AND PLUCK SERIES— First Series. 
 
 4 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $400 
 
 Luck and Pluck. Strong and Steady. 
 
 Sink or Swim. Strive and Succeed. 
 
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.'s POPULAR JUVENILES. 
 
 LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES— Second Series. 
 
 4 vols. $4.o« 
 
 Try and Trust. Risen from the Ranks. 
 
 Bound to Rise. Herbert Carter 's k Legacy* 
 
 BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES. 
 
 4 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $4.0© 
 
 Brave and Bold. Shifting for Himself. 
 
 Jack's Ward. Wait and Hope. 
 
 NEW WORLD SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3-oo 
 
 Digging for Gold. Facing the World, In a New World. 
 
 VICTORY SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 
 
 Only an Irish Boy. Adrift in the City. 
 
 Victor Vane, or the Young Secretary. 
 
 FRANK AND FEARLESS SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 
 
 Frank Hunter's Peril. Frank and Fearless. 
 
 The Young Salesman. 
 
 GOOD FORTUNE LIBRARY. 
 
 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 
 
 Walter Sherwood's Probation. A Boy's Fortune. 
 The Young Bank Messenger. 
 
 RUPERT'S AMBITION. 
 
 i voL By Horatio Alger, Jr. $1.00 
 
 JED, THE POOR=HOUSE BOY. 
 1 vol. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $1.00 
 
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.'s POPULAR JUVENILES. 
 
 HARRY CASTLEMON. 
 
 HOW I CAME TO WRITE MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 When I was sixteen years old I belonged to a composii 
 don class. It was our custom to go on the recitation seat 
 every day with clean slates, and we were, allowed ten min- 
 utes to write seventy words on any subject the teacher 
 thought suited to our capacity. One day he gave out "What 
 a Man Would See if He Went to Greenland." My heart was 
 in the matter, and before the ten minutes were up I had one 
 side of my slate filled. The teacher listened to the reading 
 of our compositions, and when they were all over he simply 
 said : "Some of you will make your living by writing one 
 of these days." That gave me something to ponder upon. 
 I did not say so out loud, but I knew that my composition 
 was as good as the best of them. By the way, there was 
 another thing that came in my way just then. I was read- 
 ing at that time one of Mayne Reid's works which I had 
 drawn from the library, and I pondered upon it as much as 
 I did upon what the teacher said to me. In introducing 
 Swartboy to his readers he made use of this expression : 
 "No visible change was observable in Swartboy's counte- 
 nance." Now, it occurred to me that if a man of his educa- 
 tion could make such a blunder as that and still write a 
 book, I ought to be able to do it, too. I went home that very 
 day and began a story, "The C 1 Guide's Narrative," which 
 was sent to the New York Weekly, and came back, respect- 
 fully declined. It was written on both sides of the sheets 
 but I didn't know that this was against the rules. Nothing 
 abashed, I began another, and receiving some instruction, 
 from a friend of mine who was a clerk in a book store, I 
 wrote it on only one side of the paper. But mind you, he 
 didn't know what I was doing. Nobody knew it ; but one 
 
THE JOHN C. WINSTON COTS POPULAR JUVENILES. 
 
 day, after a hard Saturday's work — the other boys had been 
 out skating on the brick-pond — I shyly broached the subject 
 to my mother. I felt the need of some sympathy. She 
 listened in amazement, and then said : "Why, do you think 
 you could write a book like that ?" That settled the matter, 
 and from that day no one knew what I was up to until I sent 
 the first four volumes of Gunboat Series to my father. Was 
 it work ? Well, yes ; it was hard work, but each week I had 
 the satisfaction of seeing the manuscript grow until the 
 "Young Naturalist" was all complete. 
 
 ■ — Harry Cast lemon in the Writer. 
 
 GUNBOAT SERIES. 
 
 6 vols. By Harry Castlemon. $6.00 
 
 Frank the Young Naturalist. Frank before Vicksburg. 
 Frank on a Gunboat. Frank on the Lower Mississippi. 
 
 Frank in the Woods. Frank on the Prairie. 
 
 ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Harry Castlemon. $3-oo 
 
 Frank Among the Rancheros. Frank in the Mountains- 
 Frank at Don Carlos' Rancho. 
 
 SPORTSMAN'S CLUB SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Harry Castlemon. $3-75 
 
 The Sportsman's Club in the Saddle. The Sportsman's Club 
 The Sportsman's Club Afloat. Among the Trappers. 
 
 FRANK NELSON SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Harry Castlemon. $3-75 
 
 Snowed up. Frank in the Forecastle. The Boy Traders. 
 
 BOY TR4PPER SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Karry Castlemon. $3-o< 
 
 The Buried Treasure. The Boy Trapper. The Mail Carrier. 
 
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.'S POPULAR JUVENILES. 
 
 ROUGHING IT SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Harry Casteemon. $3.00 
 
 George in Camp. George at the Fort. 
 
 George at the Wheel. 
 
 ROD AND GUN SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Harry Casteemon. $3.00 
 
 Don Gordon's Shooting Box. The Young Wild Fowlers. 
 Rod and Gun Club. 
 
 GO=AHEAD SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Harry Casteemon. m $7>-oo 
 
 Tom Newcombe. Go-Ahead. No Moss. 
 
 WAR SERIES. 
 
 6 vols. By Harry Casteemon. $6.00 
 
 True to His Colors. Marcy the Blockade-Runner. 
 
 Rodney the Partisan. Marcy the Refugee. 
 
 Rodney the Overseer. Sailor Jack the Trader. 
 
 HOUSEBOAT SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Harry Casteemon. $3-oo 
 
 The Houseboat Boys. The Mystery of Lost River Canon. 
 The Young Game Warden. 
 
 AFLOAT AND ASHORE SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Harry Casteemon. I3.00 
 
 Rebellion in Dixie. A Sailor in Spite of Himself. 
 
 The Ten-Ton Cutter. 
 
 THE PONY EXPRESS SERIES. 
 
 3 vol. By Harry Casteemon. #3- 00 
 
 The Pony Express Rider. The White Beaver. 
 
 Carl, The Trailer. 
 
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO. S POPULAR JUVENILES. 
 
 EDWARD S. ELLIS. 
 
 Edward S. Ellis, the popular writer of boys' books, is 
 a native of Ohio, where he was born somewhat more than a 
 half -century ago. His father was a famous hunter and rifle 
 shot, and it was doubtless his exploits and those of his asso-l 
 ciates, with their tales of adventure which gave the son his 
 taste for the breezy backwoods and for depicting the stirring 
 life of the early settlers on the frontier. 
 
 Mr. Ellis began writing at an early age and his work was 
 acceptable from the first. His parents removed to New 
 Jersey while he was a boy and he was graduated from the 
 State Normal School and became a member of the faculty 
 while still in his teens. He was afterward principal of the 
 Trenton High School, a trustee and then superintendent of 
 schools. By that time his services as a writer had become 
 so pronounced that he gave his entire attention to literature. 
 He was an exceptionally successful teacher and wrote a num- 
 ber of text-books for schools, all of which met with high 
 favor. For these and his historical productions, Princeton 
 College conferred upon him the degree of Master of Arts. 
 
 The high moral character, the clean, manly tendencies 
 and the admirable literary style of Mr. Ellis' stories have 
 made him as popular on the other side of the Atlantic as in 
 this country. A leading paper remarked some time since, 
 that no mother need hesitate to place in the hands of her boy 
 any book written by Mr. Ellis. They are found in the lead- 
 ing Sunday-school libraries, where, as may well be believed, 
 they are in wide demand and do much good by their sound, 
 wholesome lessons which render them as acceptable to parents 
 as to their children. All of his books published by Henry 
 T. Coates & Co. are re-issued in London, and many have 
 been translated into other languages. Mr. Ellis is a writer 
 of varied accomplishments, and, in addition to his stories, is 
 the author of historical works, of a number of pieces of pop* 
 
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.'S POPULAR JUVENILES. 
 
 ular music and has made several valuable inventions. Mr. 
 Ellis is in the prime of his mental and physical powers, and 
 great as have been the merits of his past achievements, there 
 is reason to look for more brilliant productions from his pea 
 in the near future. 
 
 DEERFOOT SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Edward S. Ellis. #3.00 
 
 Hunters of the Ozark. The Last War Trail. 
 
 Camp in the Mountains. 
 
 LOG CABIN SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Edward S. Ellis. $3.00 
 
 Lost Trail. Footprints in the Forest. 
 
 Camp-Fire and Wigwam. 
 
 BOY PIONEER SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Edward S. Ellis. $3.00 
 
 Ned in the Block-House. Ned on the River. 
 
 Ned in the Woods. 
 
 THE NORTHWEST SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Edward S. Ellis. #3.00 
 
 Two Boys in Wyoming. Cowmen and Rustlers. 
 
 A Strange Craft and its Wonderful Voyage. 
 
 BOONE AND KENTON SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Edward S. Ellis. 53.00 
 
 Shod with Silence. In the Days of the Pioneers. 
 
 Phantom of the River. 
 
 IRON HEART, WAR CHIEF OF THE IROQUOIS. 
 
 1 vol. By Edward S. Ellis. $1.00 
 
 THE NEW DEERFOOT SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Edward S. Ellis. $3.00 
 
 Deerfoot in the Forest. Deerfoot on the Prairie. 
 
 Deerfoot in the Mountains. 
 
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO. S POPULAR Jl'VF.Nll.KS. 
 
 J. T. TROWBRIDGE. 
 
 NEITHER as a writer does he stand apart from the great 
 pirrents of life and select some exceptional phase or odd 
 combination of circumstances. He stands on the common 
 level and appeals to the universal heart, and all that he sug- 
 gests or achieves is on the plane and in the line of march of 
 the great body of humanity. 
 
 The Jack Hazard series of stories, published in the lat« 
 Our Young Folks, and continued in the first volume of St. 
 Nicholas, under the title of "Fast Friends," is no doubt 
 destined to hold a high place in this class of literature. The 
 delight of the boys in them (and of their seniors, too) is 
 well founded. They go to the right spot every time. Trow- 
 bridge knows the heart of a boy like a book, and the heart 
 of a man, too, and he has laid them both open in these books 
 in a most successful manner. Apart from the qualities that 
 render the series so attractive to all young readers, they 
 have great value on account of their portraitures of American 
 country life and character. The drawing is wonderfully 
 accurate, and as spirited as it is true. The constable, Sel< 
 lick, is an original character, and as minor figures where will 
 we find anything better than Miss Wansey, and Mr. P. Pip- 
 kin, Esq. The picture of Mr. Dink's school, too, is capital, 
 and where else in fiction is there a better nick-name than 
 that the boys gave to poor little Stephen Treadwell, "Step 
 Hen," as he himself pronounced his name in an unfortunate 
 moment when he saw it in print for the first time in his les- 
 son in school. 
 
 On the whole, these books are very satisfactory, and 
 afford the critical reader the rare pleasure of the works that 
 are just adequate, that easily fulfill themselves and accora* 
 plish all they set out to d©. — Scribuer's Monthly, 
 
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.'s POPULAR JUVENILES. 
 
 JACK HAZARD SERIES. 
 
 ... 6 vols. By J. T. Trowbridge. $7-25 
 
 Jack Hazard and His Fortunes. Doing His Best. 
 
 The Young Surveyor. A Chance for Himself. 
 
 Fast Friends. Lawrence's Adventures. 
 
 International Bibles 
 
 Are known the world over for their clear print, scholarly 
 Helps and absolutely flexible bindings. They comprise every 
 variety of readable type in every style of binding and in- 
 clude Text Bibles, Reference Bibles, Teachers' Bibles, Tes- 
 taments, Psalms, Illustrated Bibles ; also the "Interna- 
 tional" Red Letter Testaments and Red Letter Bibles with 
 the prophetic types and prophecies relating to Christ in the 
 Old Testament printed in red, and the words of Christ in 
 the New Testament printed in red ; also Christian Workers' 
 Testament and Christian Workers' Bible in which all sub- 
 jects or the Theme of Salvation are indexed and marked 
 in red. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers. Catalog of Books and Biblej 
 mailed on application to the publishers. 
 
 THE JOHN G WINSTON CO. 
 
 Winston Building 
 PHILADELPHIA, PA. 
 
A Veritable "Arabian Nights" of Entertainment 
 Containing 168 Complete Illustrated Stories. 
 
 HURLBUT'S 
 
 STORY OF THE 
 
 BIBLE 
 
 told for 
 
 YOUNG AND OLD 
 
 by 
 Rev. Jesse Lyman Hurlbut, D.D. 
 
 THE BIBLE MADE FASCINATING TO CHILDREN.— The heroes and the 
 noble men and women of the Bible are made to appear as 
 living, acting people. The book is an original work, and 
 in no sense an imitation. It has been in preparation for 
 a number of vears. 
 
 THE DISTINGUISHED AUTHOR.— Dr. Hurlbut has long been asso- 
 ciated with, and director of, the Sunday School work of 
 one of the largest denominations, and he has been more 
 closely associated with the detail work of the Chautauqua 
 movement than has any other man. He is also well known 
 as a writer. 
 
 REMARKABLE FOR THE BEAUTY AND NUMBER OF ITS ILLUSTRATIONS.— 
 There are sixteen pictures in color prepared for this work 
 by the distinguished artist, W. H. Margetson, and repro- 
 duced with the beauty and attractiveness of the artist's 
 original work. There are also nearly 200 half-tone en- 
 gravings in this remarkable book, which is as original in 
 the selection of its illustrations as it is in its stories. 
 WHAT OTHERS THINK OF IT 
 
 "It is a needed and original work. Not an imitation." — Christian Ad- 
 vocate, New York. 
 
 "Written in such a style as to fascinate and hold the interest of 
 child or man." — Rev. F. E. Clark, Pres. Society of Christian Endeavor. 
 
 "It is a beautiful book. I hope every family in the land will secure 
 'Hurlbut's Story of the Bible.' " — General O. O. Howard. 
 
 "The best book of its kind, and that kind the most important." — 
 Rev. James A. Worden, Presbyterian B'd of Pub. and S. S. Work. 
 
 "I like very much the vocabulary you have used, and I can see how 
 careful yo'u have been in choosing understandable words." — Mr. Philip 
 E. Howard, Sunday-School Times, Philadelphia. 
 
 "It is the completest and best thing of the kind I have seen. The 
 book is splendidly illustrated." Marian Lawrance, General Secretary 
 International Sunday-School Association. 
 
 "Many will be drawn to the Bible who otherwise mit*ht look upon it as 
 only adapted for older people." — Hon. David J. Brewer, Justice of 
 the Supreme Court of the United States. 
 8vo, cloth. 750 pages. 16 color plates. 162 half-tone engravings. Net $1.50 
 
 The JOHN C. WINSTON CO. 
 

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