01-10-2003, 03:01 AM
STUDENT AND SCHOOLMATE?
An Illustrated Monthly,
FOR OUR BOYS AND GIRLS.
Vol. XIX. JANUARY, 1867. No. I.
RAGGED DICK;
OR, STREET LIFE IN NEW YORK.
CHAPTER I.
RAGGED DICK IS INTRODUCED TO THE READER.
"Wake up there, youngster," said a rough voice.
Ragged Dick opened his eyes slowly, and stared stupidly in the face of the
speaker, but did not offer to get up.
"Wake up, you young vagabond!" said the man a little impatiently, "I suppose you'd lay here all day, if I hadn't called you."
"What time is it?" asked Dick.
"Seven o'clock."
""Seven o'clock! I oughter 've been up an hour ago. I know what 't was made me so precious sleepy. I went to the Old Bowery last night, and didn't turn in till past twelve."
"You went to the Old Bowery? Where'd you get your money?" asked the man,
who was a porter in the employ of a firm on Spruce Street.
"Made it by shines, in course. You don't catch me stealing, if that's what you mean."
"Don't you ever steal, then?"
"No, and I wouldn't. Lots of boys does it, but I wouldn't."
"Well, I'm glad to hear you say that. I believe there's some good in you Dick, after all."
"O, I'm a rough customer," said Dick. "But I wouldn't steal. It's mean."
"I'm glad you think so, Dick. Have you got any money to buy your breakfast?"
"No, but I'll some get some."
While this conversation was going on, Dick had got up. His bedchamber had
been a wooden box half full of straw, on which the young boot-black had reposed his weary limbs, and slept as soundly as if he had been on a bed of down. He dumped down into the straw without taking the trouble of undressing. Getting up too, was a short process. He jumped out of the box, shook himself, picked out one or two straws that had found their way into rents in his clothes, and drawing a well-worn felt hat over his uncombed locks, he was ready for the business of the day.
Dick's appearance, as he stood beside the box was rather peculiar. His pants were torn in several places, and had apparently belonged in the first instance to a boy two sizes larger than himself. He wore a vest, all of the buttons of which were gone except for two - out of which peeped a shirt which looked as if it had been worn a month. To complete his costume he wore a dress-coat, or "tail-coat," as the boys call it. The sleeves were so long that they had to be rolled up, and the tails nearly reached his feet. Washing the face and hands is usually considered proper in commencing the day, but Dick was above such refinements. He had no particular dislike to dirt, and did not think it necessary to remove several dark streaks on his face and hands. In spite of his dirt and rags, however, there was something about Dick that was rather attractive. It was easy to see that if he had been clean and well dressed, he would have been decidedly good-looking. Some of his companions were sly, and their faces inspired distrust, but Dick had a frank, straight-forward manner that made him a favorite.
Dick's business hours had commenced. His little blacking box was out ready for use, and he addressed each passer with, "Have a shine, sir?"
"How much do you charge?" asked a gentleman on the way to his counting-room.
"Ten cents," said Dick.
"Isn't that a little high?"
An Illustrated Monthly,
FOR OUR BOYS AND GIRLS.
Vol. XIX. JANUARY, 1867. No. I.
RAGGED DICK;
OR, STREET LIFE IN NEW YORK.
CHAPTER I.
RAGGED DICK IS INTRODUCED TO THE READER.
"Wake up there, youngster," said a rough voice.
Ragged Dick opened his eyes slowly, and stared stupidly in the face of the
speaker, but did not offer to get up.
"Wake up, you young vagabond!" said the man a little impatiently, "I suppose you'd lay here all day, if I hadn't called you."
"What time is it?" asked Dick.
"Seven o'clock."
""Seven o'clock! I oughter 've been up an hour ago. I know what 't was made me so precious sleepy. I went to the Old Bowery last night, and didn't turn in till past twelve."
"You went to the Old Bowery? Where'd you get your money?" asked the man,
who was a porter in the employ of a firm on Spruce Street.
"Made it by shines, in course. You don't catch me stealing, if that's what you mean."
"Don't you ever steal, then?"
"No, and I wouldn't. Lots of boys does it, but I wouldn't."
"Well, I'm glad to hear you say that. I believe there's some good in you Dick, after all."
"O, I'm a rough customer," said Dick. "But I wouldn't steal. It's mean."
"I'm glad you think so, Dick. Have you got any money to buy your breakfast?"
"No, but I'll some get some."
While this conversation was going on, Dick had got up. His bedchamber had
been a wooden box half full of straw, on which the young boot-black had reposed his weary limbs, and slept as soundly as if he had been on a bed of down. He dumped down into the straw without taking the trouble of undressing. Getting up too, was a short process. He jumped out of the box, shook himself, picked out one or two straws that had found their way into rents in his clothes, and drawing a well-worn felt hat over his uncombed locks, he was ready for the business of the day.
Dick's appearance, as he stood beside the box was rather peculiar. His pants were torn in several places, and had apparently belonged in the first instance to a boy two sizes larger than himself. He wore a vest, all of the buttons of which were gone except for two - out of which peeped a shirt which looked as if it had been worn a month. To complete his costume he wore a dress-coat, or "tail-coat," as the boys call it. The sleeves were so long that they had to be rolled up, and the tails nearly reached his feet. Washing the face and hands is usually considered proper in commencing the day, but Dick was above such refinements. He had no particular dislike to dirt, and did not think it necessary to remove several dark streaks on his face and hands. In spite of his dirt and rags, however, there was something about Dick that was rather attractive. It was easy to see that if he had been clean and well dressed, he would have been decidedly good-looking. Some of his companions were sly, and their faces inspired distrust, but Dick had a frank, straight-forward manner that made him a favorite.
Dick's business hours had commenced. His little blacking box was out ready for use, and he addressed each passer with, "Have a shine, sir?"
"How much do you charge?" asked a gentleman on the way to his counting-room.
"Ten cents," said Dick.
"Isn't that a little high?"
<img src=http://images.andale.com/f2/115/104/6485603/1054786652163_heyladiRed2.jpg>
Do that voodoo that you do, so well ~>
HITTING BOTTOM ISN'T A WEEKEND RETREAT! IT'S NOT A SEMINAR! ONLY AFTER YOU'VE LOST EVERYTHING ARE YOU FREE TO DO ANYTHING! YOU SEE, YOU LISTEN, BUT YOU DON'T GET IT! YOU HAVE TO FORGET EVERYTHING YOU KNOW, EVERYTHING YOU THINK YOU KNOW!
Do that voodoo that you do, so well ~>
HITTING BOTTOM ISN'T A WEEKEND RETREAT! IT'S NOT A SEMINAR! ONLY AFTER YOU'VE LOST EVERYTHING ARE YOU FREE TO DO ANYTHING! YOU SEE, YOU LISTEN, BUT YOU DON'T GET IT! YOU HAVE TO FORGET EVERYTHING YOU KNOW, EVERYTHING YOU THINK YOU KNOW!