"You haven't any cause to be ashamed of it, d.i.c.k. It wasn't a very desirable business, but it was honest. Now you can do something better.

You must adapt yourself to your new circ.u.mstances."

"So I mean to," said d.i.c.k. "I'm going in for respectability. When I get to be sixty years old, I'm goin' to wear gold spectacles and walk round this way, like the old gentlemen I see most every day on Wall Street."

d.i.c.k threw his head back, and began to walk round the room with a pompous step and an air of great importance.

"I hope we'll both rise, d.i.c.k; we've got well started now, and there've been other boys, worse off than we are, who have worked hard, and risen to FAME AND FORTUNE."

"We can try," said d.i.c.k. "Now let us go out and have a walk."

"All right," said Fosd.i.c.k.

They went downstairs, and out into the street. Accustomed to the lower part of the city, there was a novelty in the evening aspect of Broadway, with its shops and theatres glittering with light. They sauntered carelessly along, looking in at the shop-windows, feeling more and more pleased with their change of location. All at once d.i.c.k's attention was drawn to a gentleman accompanied by a boy of about his own size, who was walking a little in advance.

"Stop a minute," he said to Fosd.i.c.k, and hurrying forward placed his hand on the boy's arm.

"How are you, Frank?" he said.

Frank Whitney, for it was he, turned in some surprise and looked at d.i.c.k, but did not at first recognize in the neat, well-dressed boy of fifteen the ragged boot-black he had encountered a year before.

"I don't think I remember you," he said, surveying d.i.c.k with a puzzled expression.

"Perhaps you'd remember me better if I had on my Washington coat and Napoleon pants," said our hero, with a smile. He felt rather pleased to find he was not recognized, since it was a compliment to his improved appearance.

"What!" exclaimed Frank, his face lighting up with pleasure, "is it possible that you are--"

"Richard Hunter, at your service," said our hero; "but when you knew me I was Ragged d.i.c.k."

CHAPTER II.

INTRODUCTION TO MERCANTILE LIFE.

Frank Whitney was indeed surprised to find the ragged boot-black of a year before so wonderfully changed. He grasped d.i.c.k's hand, and shook it heartily.

"Uncle," he said, "this is d.i.c.k. Isn't he changed?"

"It is a change I am glad to see," said Mr. Whitney, also extending his hand; "for it appears to be a change for the better. And who is this other young man?"

"This is my private tutor," said d.i.c.k, presenting Fosd.i.c.k,--"Professor Fosd.i.c.k. He's been teachin' me every evenin' for most a year. His terms is very reasonable. If it hadn't been for him, I never should have reached my present high position in literature and science."

"I am glad to make your acquaintance, _Professor_ Fosd.i.c.k," said Frank, laughing. "May I inquire whether my friend d.i.c.k owes his elegant system of p.r.o.nunciation to your instructions?"

"d.i.c.k can speak more correctly when he pleases," said Fosd.i.c.k; "but sometimes he falls back into his old way. He understands the common English branches very well."

"Then he must have worked hard; for when I first met him a year ago, he was--"

"As ignorant as a horse," interrupted d.i.c.k. "It was you that first made me ambitious, Frank. I wanted to be like you, and grow up 'spectable."

"_Re_spectable, d.i.c.k," suggested Fosd.i.c.k.

"Yes, that's what I mean. I didn't always want to be a boot-black, so I worked hard, and with the help of Professor Fosd.i.c.k, I've got up a little way. But I'm goin' to climb higher."

"I am very glad to hear it, my young friend," said Mr. Whitney. "It is always pleasant to see a young man fighting his way upward. In this free country there is every inducement for effort, however unpromising may be the early circ.u.mstances in which one is placed. But, young gentlemen, as my nephew would be glad to speak further with you, I propose that we adjourn from the sidewalk to the St. Nicholas Hotel, where I am at present stopping."

"Yes, d.i.c.k," said Frank, "you and Professor Fosd.i.c.k must spend the evening with me. I was intending to visit some place of amus.e.m.e.nt, but would much prefer a visit from you."

d.i.c.k and Fosd.i.c.k readily accepted this invitation, and turned in the direction of the St. Nicholas, which is situated on Broadway, below Bleecker Street.

"By the way, d.i.c.k, where are your Washington coat and Napoleon pants now?"

"They were stolen from my room," said d.i.c.k, "by somebody that wanted to appear on Broadway dressed in tip-top style, and hadn't got money enough to pay for a suit."

"Perhaps it was some agent of Barnum who desired to secure the valuable relics," suggested Frank.

"By gracious!" said d.i.c.k, suddenly, "there they are now. It's the first time I've seen 'em since they was stolen."

He pointed to a boy, of about his own size, who was coming up Broadway.

He was attired in the well-remembered coat and pants; but, alas! time had not spared them. The solitary remaining coat-tail was torn in many places; of one sleeve but a fragment remained; grease and dirt nearly obliterated the original color; and it was a melancholy vestige of what it had been once. As for the pantaloons, they were a complete wreck.

When d.i.c.k had possessed them they were well ventilated; but they were now ventilated so much more thoroughly that, as d.i.c.k said afterwards, "a feller would be warmer without any."

"That's Micky Maguire," said d.i.c.k; "a partic'lar friend of mine, that had such a great 'fection for me that he stole my clothes to remember me by."

"Perhaps," said Fosd.i.c.k, "it was on account of his great respect for General Washington and the Emperor Napoleon."

"What would the great Washington say if he could see his coat now?" said Frank.

"When I wore it," said d.i.c.k, "I was sorry he was so great, 'cause it prevented his clothes fitting me."

It may be necessary to explain to those who are unacquainted with d.i.c.k's earlier adventures, that the clothes in which he was originally introduced were jocosely referred to by him as gifts from the ill.u.s.trious personages whose names have been mentioned.

Micky Maguire did not at first recognize d.i.c.k. When he did so, he suddenly shambled down Prince Street, fearful, perhaps, that the stolen clothes would be reclaimed.

They had now reached the St. Nicholas, and entered. Mr. Whitney led the way up to his apartment, and then, having a business engagement with a gentleman below, he descended to the reading-room, leaving the boys alone. Left to themselves, they talked freely. d.i.c.k related fully the different steps in his education, with which some of our readers are already familiar, and received hearty congratulations from Frank, and earnest encouragement to persevere.

"I wish you were going to be in the city, Frank," said d.i.c.k.

"So I shall be soon," said Frank.

d.i.c.k's face lighted up with pleasure.

"That's bully," said he, enthusiastically. "How soon are you comin'?"

"I am hoping to enter Columbia College next commencement. I suppose my time will be a good deal taken up with study, but I shall always find time for you and Fosd.i.c.k. I hope you both will call upon me."

Both boys readily accepted the invitation in advance, and d.i.c.k promised to write to Frank at his boarding-school in Connecticut. At about half past ten, the two boys left the St. Nicholas, and went back to their boarding-house.