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Alger, Horatio, 1832-1899

"Ragged Dick, Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot-Blacks"

"
"That wasn't right, Dick," said Frank.
"I know it," said Dick; "but lots of boys does it."
"That don't make it any better."
"No," said Dick, "I was sort of ashamed at the time, 'specially
about one poor old gentleman,--a Englishman he was. He couldn't
help cryin' to think the queen was dead, and his hands shook when
he handed me the money for the paper."
"What did you do next?"
"I went into the match business," said Dick; "but it was small sales
and small profits. Most of the people I called on had just laid in
a stock, and didn't want to buy. So one cold night, when I hadn't
money enough to pay for a lodgin', I burned the last of my matches
to keep me from freezin'. But it cost too much to get warm that way,
and I couldn't keep it up."
"You've seen hard times, Dick," said Frank, compassionately.
"Yes," said Dick, "I've knowed what it was to be hungry and cold,
with nothin' to eat or to warm me; but there's one thing I never
could do," he added, proudly.
"What's that?"
"I never stole," said Dick. "It's mean and I wouldn't do it."
"Were you ever tempted to?"
"Lots of times. Once I had been goin' round all day, and hadn't sold
any matches, except three cents' worth early in the mornin'. With
that I bought an apple, thinkin' I should get some more bimeby. When
evenin' come I was awful hungry. I went into a baker's just to look
at the bread. It made me feel kind o' good just to look at the bread
and cakes, and I thought maybe they would give me some.


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