Part 10 (1/2)
”The hoss must have been a fine specimen of architectur' by the time he got through,” remarked d.i.c.k.
”Whereabouts are we now?” asked Frank, as they emerged from Fourth Avenue into Union Square.
”That is Union Park,” said d.i.c.k, pointing to a beautiful enclosure, in the centre of which was a pond, with a fountain playing.
”Is that the statue of General Was.h.i.+ngton?” asked Frank, pointing to a bronze equestrian statue, on a granite pedestal.
”Yes,” said d.i.c.k; ”he's growed some since he was President. If he'd been as tall as that when he fit in the Revolution, he'd have walloped the Britishers some, I reckon.”
Frank looked up at the statue, which is fourteen and a half feet high, and acknowledged the justice of d.i.c.k's remark.
”How about the coat, d.i.c.k?” he asked. ”Would it fit you?”
”Well, it might be rather loose,” said d.i.c.k, ”I aint much more'n ten feet high with my boots off.”
”No, I should think not,” said Frank, smiling. ”You're a queer boy, d.i.c.k.”
”Well, I've been brought up queer. Some boys is born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Victoria's boys is born with a gold spoon, set with di'monds; but gold and silver was scarce when I was born, and mine was pewter.”
”Perhaps the gold and silver will come by and by, d.i.c.k. Did you ever hear of d.i.c.k Whittington?”
”Never did. Was he a Ragged d.i.c.k?”
”I shouldn't wonder if he was. At any rate he was very poor when he was a boy, but he didn't stay so. Before he died, he became Lord Mayor of London.”
”Did he?” asked d.i.c.k, looking interested. ”How did he do it?”
”Why, you see, a rich merchant took pity on him, and gave him a home in his own house, where he used to stay with the servants, being employed in little errands. One day the merchant noticed d.i.c.k picking up pins and needles that had been dropped, and asked him why he did it. d.i.c.k told him he was going to sell them when he got enough. The merchant was pleased with his saving disposition, and when soon after, he was going to send a vessel to foreign parts, he told d.i.c.k he might send anything he pleased in it, and it should be sold to his advantage. Now d.i.c.k had nothing in the world but a kitten which had been given him a short time before.”
”How much taxes did he have to pay on it?” asked d.i.c.k.
”Not very high, probably. But having only the kitten, he concluded to send it along. After sailing a good many months, during which the kitten grew up to be a strong cat, the s.h.i.+p touched at an island never before known, which happened to be infested with rats and mice to such an extent that they worried everybody's life out, and even ransacked the king's palace. To make a long story short, the captain, seeing how matters stood, brought d.i.c.k's cat ash.o.r.e, and she soon made the rats and mice scatter. The king was highly delighted when he saw what havoc she made among the rats and mice, and resolved to have her at any price. So he offered a great quant.i.ty of gold for her, which, of course, the captain was glad to accept. It was faithfully carried back to d.i.c.k, and laid the foundation of his fortune. He prospered as he grew up, and in time became a very rich merchant, respected by all, and before he died was elected Lord Mayor of London.”
”That's a pretty good story,” said d.i.c.k; ”but I don't believe all the cats in New York will ever make me mayor.”
”No, probably not, but you may rise in some other way. A good many distinguished men have once been poor boys. There's hope for you, d.i.c.k, if you'll try.”
”n.o.body ever talked to me so before,” said d.i.c.k. ”They just called me Ragged d.i.c.k, and told me I'd grow up to be a vagabone (boys who are better educated need not be surprised at d.i.c.k's blunders) and come to the gallows.”
”Telling you so won't make it turn out so, d.i.c.k. If you'll try to be somebody, and grow up into a respectable member of society, you will. You may not become rich,--it isn't everybody that becomes rich, you know--but you can obtain a good position, and be respected.”
”I'll try,” said d.i.c.k, earnestly. ”I needn't have been Ragged d.i.c.k so long if I hadn't spent my money in goin' to the theatre, and treatin' boys to oyster-stews, and bettin' money on cards, and such like.”
”Have you lost money that way?”
”Lots of it. One time I saved up five dollars to buy me a new rig-out, cos my best suit was all in rags, when Limpy Jim wanted me to play a game with him.”
”Limpy Jim?” said Frank, interrogatively.
”Yes, he's lame; that's what makes us call him Limpy Jim.”