CHAPTER I. PHIL HAS A LITTLE DIFFICULTY. Phil Brent was plodding through the snow in the direction of the house where he lived with his step-mother and her son, when a snow-ball, moist and hard, struck him just below his ear with stinging emphasis. The pain was considerable, and Phil's anger rose. He turned suddenly, his eyes flashing fiercely, intent upon discovering who had committed this... more...

CHAPTER I.A FAITHLESS GUARDIAN."Well, good by, Rodney! I leave school tomorrow. I am going to learn a trade." "I am sorry to part with you, David. Couldn't you stay another term?" "No: my uncle says I must be earning my living, and I have a chance to learn the carpenter's trade." "Where are you going?" "To Duffield, some twenty miles away. I wish I were in... more...

CHAPTER I PAUL THE PEDDLER "Here's your prize packages! Only five cents! Money prize in every package! Walk up, gentlemen, and try your luck!" The speaker, a boy of fourteen, stood in front of the shabby brick building, on Nassau street, which has served for many years as the New York post office. In front of him, as he stood with his back to the building, was a small basket, filled with... more...

OUT IN A STORM."What do you think of this storm, Joe?" "I think it is going to be a heavy one, Ned. I wish we were back home," replied Joe Bodley, as he looked at the heavy clouds which overhung Lake Tandy. "Do you think we'll catch much rain before we get back?" And Ned, who was the son of a rich man and well dressed, looked at the new suit of clothes that he wore.... more...

CHAPTER I PHIL THE FIDDLER "Viva Garibaldi!" sang a young Italian boy in an uptown street, accompanying himself on a violin which, from its battered appearance, seemed to have met with hard usage. As the young singer is to be the hero of my story, I will pause to describe him. He was twelve years old, but small of his age. His complexion was a brilliant olive, with the dark eyes peculiar to his... more...

A BOARDING-HOUSE IN BLEECKER STREET. "Well, Fosdick, this is a little better than our old room in Mott Street," said Richard Hunter, looking complacently about him. "You're right, Dick," said his friend. "This carpet's rather nicer than the ragged one Mrs. Mooney supplied us with. The beds are neat and comfortable, and I feel better satisfied, even if we do have to pay... more...

NAT ON THE FARM "Nat, where have you been?" "Been fishing," answered the boy addressed, a sturdy youth of sixteen, with clear blue eyes and sandy hair. "Fishin'? And who said you could go fishin'?" demanded Abner Balberry, in his high, nervous voice. "Nobody said I could go," answered the boy, firmly. "But I thought you'd all like to have some fish for... more...

CHAPTER I. THE YOUNG OUTLAW. "Boy, is this Canal Street?" The speaker was evidently from the country. He was a tall man, with prominent features, and a face seamed and wrinkled by the passage of nearly seventy years. He wore a rusty cloak, in the style of thirty years gone by, and his clothing generally was of a fashion seldom seen on Broadway. The boy addressed was leaning against a lamppost,... more...

A YOUNG CARPET-BAGGER. "Twenty-five cents to begin the world with!" reflected Frank Kavanagh, drawing from his vest-pocket two ten-cent pieces of currency and a nickel. "That isn't much, but it will have to do." The speaker, a boy of fifteen, was sitting on a bench in City-Hall Park. He was apparently about fifteen years old, with a face not handsome, but frank and good-humored,... more...

CHAPTER I. SAM'S NEW CLOTHES. "If I'm goin' into a office I'll have to buy some new clo'es," thoughtSam Barker. He was a boy of fifteen, who, for three years, had been drifting about the streets of New York, getting his living as he could; now blacking boots, now selling papers, now carrying bundles—"everything by turns, and nothing long." He was not a model... more...