"
"Are you in earnest?" said Fosdick, his face lighting up hopefully.
"In course I am," said Dick. "It's fashionable for young gentlemen
to have private tootors to introduct 'em into the flower-beds of
literatoor and science, and why shouldn't I foller the fashion? You
shall be my perfessor; only you must promise not to be very hard if
my writin' looks like a rail-fence on a bender."
"I'll try not to be too severe," said Fosdick, laughing. "I shall be
thankful for such a chance to get a place to sleep. Have you got
anything to read out of?"
"No," said Dick. "My extensive and well-selected library was lost
overboard in a storm, when I was sailin' from the Sandwich Islands
to the desert of Sahara. But I'll buy a paper. That'll do me a
long time."
Accordingly Dick stopped at a paper-stand, and bought a copy of
a weekly paper, filled with the usual variety of reading
matter,--stories, sketches, poems, etc.
They soon arrived at Dick's lodging-house. Our hero, procuring a
lamp from the landlady, led the way into his apartment, which he
entered with the proud air of a proprietor.
"Well, how do you like it, Fosdick?" he asked, complacently.
The time was when Fosdick would have thought it untidy and not
particularly attractive. But he had served a severe apprenticeship
in the streets, and it was pleasant to feel himself under shelter,
and he was not disposed to be critical.
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