Citation
The Royal road to riches

Material Information

Title:
The Royal road to riches
Creator:
Miller, E. C
Kelly, Charles H ( Publisher )
Harmer and Harley ( Printer )
Place of Publication:
London
Publisher:
Charles H. Kelly
Manufacturer:
Harmer and Harley
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
142 p. : ill. ; 16 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Christian life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Diligence -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Success -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Wealth -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Poverty -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Friendship -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Sick children -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Prize books (Provenance) -- 1897 ( rbprov )
Bldn -- 1897
Genre:
Prize books (Provenance) ( rbprov )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

Statement of Responsibility:
by E.C. Miller.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026876559 ( ALEPH )
ALH4742 ( NOTIS )
237050706 ( OCLC )

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Full Text
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The Baldwin Library

University
RnB
Florida





| igre,”

Shea! (902.

VL Vee Ce







“HM WAS SO ATTENTIVE AND OBLIGING, THAT HE WAS SOON A FAVOURITE
ON THE TRAIN.”

See page 48,



Ropal H oad ta Riches,

BY

EH. C. MILLER.

London : :
CHARLES H. KELLY,
2, CASTLE STREET, CITY ROAD, E.C.

1897.



HARMER AND HARLEY,
PRINTERS,
89 TO 44, COWPER 8TREET, FINSBURY,

E.a,



STARTING

A HELPING HAND
Gone WEST
Loss AND GAIN
Progress
senoorite

New bone
TrviNe Home
Missionary Work
Davie

OLD FRIENDS

Success 5 6

CONTENTS.

—0}@200—_

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.

CHAPTER XII.

PAGE.

24
38
49

61

88

102

» Lit

130



THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

Oo:





CHAPTER I.
STARTING.

L was beginning to grow light, on a fogey November
morning, when Farmer Norton drove into the city with
his great covered market wagon. In the wagon were
baskets of eggs nicely packed in oats, bags of juicy pippins
and rusty-coated potatoes, and, curled up on a blanket
among them, was a little brown-faced boy, about ten years
old.

As Farmer Norton reined up his horses at the market-
house, he turned round and gave the little fellow a shake.

“Come, my lad,” he said, cheerily, “here we are at last,
though it goes against my conscience to think I’ve brought
you here. But if you want to go back to-night, you just
come up here about four o’clock, and I'll take you out and
welcome.”

The boy crawled out of the wagon, took the apple
and gingerbread which the farmer gave him from his own
dinner, and went slowly down the street, eating them, and
looking about him.

Nobody knew very much about Jimmy Marvin.
When he was only six years old, he was brought to Wood-



8 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

ville by a queer old man, who used to go round the
country selling liniment and essences. The old man never
gave any account of him, and Jimmy could not remember
that he ever had any father or mother; so he went with
the old man on his peddling excursions, or lived with him
in his little shanty when he came back to the village, till,
by and by, the old man died, and the little waif was turned
adrift again. Father Pettibone took him for a while, but
he couldn’t make anything out of him; and then the
Widow Graves tried him for an errand-boy, but she
declared he was “ fuller of mischief than an egg was of
meat.” So Jimmy went from hand to hand, growing all
the time more ragged, until Farmer Norton yielded to his
earnest request, and promised to take him with him to the
city. Good Mrs. Norton fitted him up with a comfortable
suit of clothes from the outgrown garments her great boys
had left behind them, and sent him away with a world of
misgivings.

“Tf he only wasn’t so unsettled,” she said to her
husband, “seems as if we might make something of him;
but he never was set to anything steady, and he ain’t fit
for anything but roving about.”

“T don’t know, Mother,” said Farmer Norton; “I ain’t
sure but Jimmy’ll come to something yet. He’s got some
good pints in him, and he’ll pick up a livin’ as naterally as
a blackbird, if he’s only let alone; but it ain’t in him to
take to civilized ways.”

Mrs. Norton shook her head, but she stood «n the step
and watched them drive away, and couldn’t help feeling,



STARTING. 9

after all, a little as if she hadn’t quite done her duty in
letting the little wanderer.go.

“TI hope the Lord ’ll take care of him,” she said, as she
hurried away to call up the girls to milk the cows; and in
her busy day of work she soon forgot all about him.

When evening came, Farmer Norton lingered a little
around the deserted market-place, secretly hoping Jimmy
would make his appearance ; and after he started off, he
looked back into the wagon to see if after all he might
not be coiled up there. But no Jimmy was there, and so
Farmer Norton tried to forget him, and the great town
swallowed him up as the ocean swallows a bubble, and
nobody caied anything about it.

Another foggy morning, early in April, found a ragged
little boy, with an old broom, sweeping a muddy crossing
in one of the streets. Jimmy Marvin had gone into
business. It had been a frosty night, and the mud was a
little stiff yet, and Jimmy worked slowly until he saw a
lady coming down the street. She would step over his
crossing, he knew, for she came every day, rain or shine,
and he hurried to give her a clean track. He always did
that, and she paid him oftener in smiles than pennies; but
somehow Jimmy felt richer for them than he did for other
folks’ money. Jimmy had made a shrewd guess that
pennies were not very plentiful in her pocket. This
morning, however, she had a penny for him; and as she
put it in his hand she said,—

“You and I begin our work in better season than most
people, don’t we?”



10 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“Do you work?” asked Jimmy.

“To be sure I do,” said the lady. “I work at setting
type in a great publishing house. It isn’t very pleasant
work, shut up all day in the hot, close air. I don’t know
but I shall get me a broom and sweep crossings when I
am rich enough to afford it.”

The lady passed on with a merry laugh, and Jimmy
rested on his broom a moment and looked after her.

“ She’s one of em!” he said, decidedly, as he put the
penny carefully away ; and from the tone of his voice, it.
was very plain that to be “one of ’em” meant something
very complimentary.

Sweep, sweep! the omnibuses began to rattle, the
grocers’ waggons to dash by, and soon the great town had
fairly entered upon its day’s work. The mud flowed in a
black river through the street, and it kept Jimmy’s arm
busy to clear it from the crossing. The one penny soon
had company in his pocket; but so many people seemed
to think that Jimmy swept the crossing for his own
amusement, amd only gave him a scowl in pay, that he
almost concluded it was avery poor business. Presently
came a little girl, with two or three books under her arm,
and stopped at the crossing to hail an omnibus. She set
her pretty foot daintily into the muddy street, and sprang
like a bird upon the step of the omnibus. One of her
bocks fell from her arm, but she caught it quickly, and, as
the door of the omnibus closed after her, a little white
card fluttered out from the book and dropped upon Jimmy’s
crossing. He picked it up just in time to save it from the



STARTING. ; 11

feet of a dray horse, wiped it on the sleeve of his ragged
jacket, and examined it curiously. Jimmy couldn’t read
very well, but he managed to spell out the words which
were printed on the card :—







THE HAND
OF THE DILIGENT
MAKETH RICH.



He read them very slowly, stopping to spell out the
words, and very nearly giving up on “ diligent.”

“Something *bout gettin’ rich, anyhow,” he said to
himself; ““I can make out that much;” and he put the
card away in his jacket pocket. There it stayed for more
than a week, only once in a while Jimmy would take it
out and study over that puzzling word, until one pleasant
morning his friend from the publishing house came along,
and stopped to give him a smile and a penny again.

“You keep my crossing so nicely for me,’ she said,
“T wish I could contrive some way to keep a pocket full
of pennies all the time. Then I’d give you a whole handful
every morning, Jimmy. Only think how soon you'd get
rich!”



12 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

This made Jimmy think of his card, so he took it from
his pocket, and noticed for the first time how soiled it was.
“There’s something here, Ma’am,” he said; “I can’t
quite make out the sense of it, but it tells about gettin’
rich, and maybe if you’d read it you’d know.”
The lady took the bit of pasteboard, and read, ‘“‘The
hand of the diligent maketh rich.”

‘OQ, is that all?”’ said she, laughing; ‘“‘I was in hopes
you had found some magical charm ; I knew all that long
ago.”

“Then ’tain’t true, is it, Ma’am?” asked Jimmy, a good
deal disappointed.

“True? to be sure it is—just as true as truth itself!
It means that diligent hands—that is, hands that stick
to their work all the time, and do it bravely and faithfully,
just as well as they know how,—are sure to be rewarded
in the end with success. That’s the only way to get
riches that will do you any good ; but sometimes they are
a long time coming—a very long time,” added the lady,
with a weary little sigh ; but presently she smiled again,
cheerily, and said, “ You get your pay in comfort, though,
as you goalong. Never be afraid of work, Jimmy, it’s good
for people, and you’d better keep this card to help you
remember it. It’s trwe, never doubt it.”

Away went the lady up the street, with her quick,
euergetic step, walking all the faster to make up for the
moments she had lost with Jimmy. The next morning,
and the next, the lady picked her way as best she could
over the unswept crossing, wondering what had become



STARTING. 13

of Jimmy. Then a girl with a pinched, hungry face took
possession of the crossing, and the lady gave her the smiles
and the spare pennies, and ceased to wonder about the
little brown-faced boy that had vanished.

Jimmy had changed his business. He had made the
acquaintance of a good-natured boy who was in the rag-
picking line, and his new friend had offered to find him a
situation with the old woman for whom he worked. Down
in the cellar of a horrible den in one of the meanest streets
of the town, they found the old woman, smoking her pipe
while she sorted over the pickings of the day. She had in
her employment a large number of boys and women, each
one of whom had a particular “beat.” Hvery morning they
hunted over all the sweepings from shops and saloons,
ash-heaps, kitchen refuse and garbage of every description,
and the stuff they collected was all taken to old Judy’s
cellar to be assorted. She paid them a stipulated price
per day, while she herself made her gain from the sale of
what they had gathered.

“T’ve brought you a new boy,” said the rag-picker,
introducing Jimmy.

The old woman took her pipe from her mouth, and
looked keenly at Jimmy.

“Ever been on a beat?” she asked.

“No,” said Jimmy, at a venture, not at. all under-
standing what she meant.

“T don’t want greenies, and I wouldn’t have nothin’ to say
to you, only Pat Donahue has just been sent up for stealin’,
and if you’ve a mind to try his beat you may have it.”



14 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

She threw an old bag towards Jimmy, who was looking
curiously about the room, and wondering what could be
the use of half the things collected there. Perhaps my
readers would not have known either that the cotton and
linen rags and the bits of paper go to the paper mills; the
woollen rags, no matter how old and filthy, to people who
buy them to sell again to be ground up and put into very
nice-looking cloth, which comes all to pieces as soon as it
- is put to any wear. Then the trimmings of all kinds of
fruit and vegetables have a market at the very lowest
eating-houses, and so do fresh bones. The old bones go
to the bone factories, to be ground up for the farmers’ use ;
the ends of cigars and even old quids are put to some use
by men who buy them, but we'll leave those interested in
tobacco in its various forms to find out what. Half-burned
cinders are sold for a trifle to the poor; and so I might go
on and tell you of some use to which every trifle you reject
from your plenty can be put.

But we must not forget Jimmy. After a few directions
from old Judy, he started out with the little rag-picker,
who showed him his beat.

“You'll have hard work to suit old Judy on this beat,”
he said. “It’s a good one, but Pat was a sly feller, and
many’s the handkerchief and small bundle he helped out
of somebody’s pocket, and pretended to finding in the
sweepin’s. Judy knowed well enough, but she never let on.”

“TI sha’n’t steal, for her nor nobody else,” said Jimmy.

“No more won’t I,” said his companion ; “they allus
gets jerked up after a while.”



STARTING. 15

Jimmy didn’t much fancy the rag-picking business, but
it paid far better than sweeping crossings: and though old
Judy was liberal with her scoldings, she never failed to
pay him regularly, and even raised his wages at the end
of the first month. Jimmy was getting rich. In the
bosom of his ragged shirt he carried an old stocking foot,
that held a little store of pennies and small coins, which
he had managed to save from his earnings.

One morning, as he was busily exploring a heap of
cinders in the gutter, somebody who was hurrying along
the sidewalk stopped to say,—

“T do believe this must be Jimmy,”

Jimmy looked up in surprise to see his old friend of the
printing-office.

“Do you come down here?” he asked.

Yes, and a good deal farther,” said the lady. “I go
down to W—— street. But have you gone into rag-picking,
Jimmy ?”

There was a tone in her voice that made Jimmy’s brown .
cheek grow red as he said,—

“Yes ’m; it pays first rate; and you said once, there
wasn’t nothin’ in work to be ashamed of, so ’twas honest.”

“T know,” said the lady ; “ but I’ve been wishing and
fancying something good had happened to you. I made
up my mind that you had gone away from this bad, dirty
city into the country, somewhere, to smell the hay and the
clover blossoms, and see the beautiful things that God is
making now.”

“TI lived in the country once, Ma’am,” said vimmy,



16 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

wondering at her brightening face, “and I didn’t like it
very much.”

“T know a little boy,” said the lady, sadly, “who
would give every precious thing he has, only to smell the
sweet country air, and hear the birds sing, and see the
green grass and the clear little brooks again.”

“Why don’t he go, then? ’tain’t more’n two mile, the
way Farmer Norton comes, till you’re right amongst the
farms.”

The lady shook her head, and made no answer.

“Are you here often, Jimmy?” she asked, presently ;
‘because I should like to see you once in awhile, and
know how you get on.”

“Yes’m, this is on my beat, but I mostly begin down
by the saloons, and so don’t get this way so early. The
saloons are the best pickin’.’’

“Well, if you ever want to see me you'll know where
to find me; and if I can help you, Jimmy, I shall always
be glad to do it.”

“She’s a spry one,” said Jimmy, as the lady passed on,
with the same springing step; ‘“ but I reckon she’s worried
about something or other. Her eyes don’t laugh the way
they used to.”

Jimmy went on with his work, and kept thinking over
what the lady had said about the little boy, until all at
once he hit upon a plan which seemed to please him very
much. He nodded his head and laughed over his work,
and when he finally threw down his bag of pickings in
Judy’s cellar, he said to her,—



STARTING. 17

“T sha’n’t be in to-morrow; I’m goin’ off on a tramp.”

“You needn’t mind to come back, then,’ growled
Judy; “I don’t want no dealin’s with trampers.”

“Tf I like it Pll stay, then,” said Jimmy, carelessly ;
for he knew Judy well enough not to care for her threats.

The next day, just as the gray light of the early
morning began to steal in at the town windows, Jimmy
crawled out of the close, hot cellar where he slept with
about twenty others, and set his face towards the open
country, by the same road that Farmer Norton had brought
him in his market waggon. Jimmy was dirty and dread-
fully ragged, and his first thought was that he did not
want to meet the farmer in such a plight. So he gave the
market-house a wide berth, and kept a sharp look-out for
the span of gray horses, and the neat, covered waggon.

“T mean to go back there, some day,” he said to
himself, “‘when I can go respectable; and then I'll pay
them Foster boys that always used to call me ‘ Essence of
Catnip’ and ‘ Poor-man’s Plaster.’ ”

Outside of the city were rows of little shanties, sur-
rounded by pig-pens and little patches of vegetables, but
very soon he came to the broad open fields, where the rows
of green corn were all glistening in the sunrise, and the
clover. hung its fragrant heads, weighed down with dew.
Nearly two miles farther on was a simall stream and a strip
of woods, which Jimmy remembered very well. He had
been there many a time with the old pedlar, in search of
roots and herbs for his wonderful syrups and liniments,
and gone home with a load of wild plants. He climbed

B



18 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

over the stone wall, and followed the brook till it led him
into the thick shadows of the woods. He sat down on a
little, green bank, all covered with moss and liverwort, and
took off his battered old cap to feel the cool, 1a0ist touch
of the wind upon his forehead. It was a pleasant place
to rest on a warm June day, and Jimmy looked about
chim with a great deal of satisfaction.

“*Tis sort o’ pretty, that’s so,” he said to himself.
“Soands just as if the water was tryin’ to say some-
thin’.”’

Jimmy ate part of the lunch he had bought at a cheap
little eating stall, and then began his work of gathering
wild flowers. He was familiar with every nook of the
woods, and soon had a large collection, and he sat down by
the brook to tie them up.

“Right here’s where the old man sat, last time he was
out here,” thought Jimmy, “tyin’ up spearmint and liver-
wort. I wonder now where he’s gone to? ’tain’t likely
they’d want him up in heaven. I never seen no pictures
of angels looked like him.” Jimmy laughed out loud, as
he tied up his posies, thinking of the old man with his
patches and his sallow face; and then avery pleasant voice
asked,—

“What are you laughing about?”

He looked up in surprise, to see a young lady with her
hands full of flowers and ferns, and answered promptly,— _

“ Thinkin’ how the old man would look up in heaven,
all over wrinkles and patches.”

“Has he gone there?” asked the lady, reverently.



STARTING. 19

“The parson said so, to the buryin’; but ’tain’t
noways likely to be true.”

“ His old clothes and his wrinkles would not go there,”
said the lady, sitting down to arrange her flowers; “ but
if his soul was white and holy, that would go there, and
God would give it a new body and beautiful garments of
white.”

“‘T must be trampin’,” said Jimmy ; “or I shall be too
late to meet her.”

“Do you live in the town?” asked the lady.

“Yes’m,” said Jimmy, as he put on his cap.

“And do you care so much for flowers that you come
away here for them?”

“T wanted ’em for her,” said Jimmy. “I don’t set
much store by ’em myself. She goes home about supper
time, and I reckon on meetin’ her by the crossin’.”

“Let me arrange them a little for you,” said the lady ;
“those ferns will droop as soon as you go out of the
shade.”

She took the flowers and dippéd them in the brook |
until they were thoroughly wet, then wrapped a wet
handkerchief about their stems.

“You can keep the handkerchief,” she said; and
Jimmy thanked her, and went trudging back through the
hot sun to the town. He could not help wishing that he
was wrapped in a wet handkerchief himself; but at last he
reached the town pavements, and looking up at the clock
on one of the church spires, he saw that he had fully an -

hour to spare. He sat down in the shade of a building
B2

?



20 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

opposite the crossing to rest and watch. The lady came
rather earlier than usual, and walked very rapidly, never -
once seeing Jimmy till she had passed him, and he ran
and pulled her by the dress. As she turned he saw how
weary and troubled she looked, though her face brightened
at the sight of the wild flowers Jimmv thrust into her
hand.

“O Jimmy,” she said, “they’re wild flowers ; real wild
flowers out of the woods! where did you get them?”

“T went for em, Ma’am,” said Jimmy; they’re for him
—for the little boy you know.”

“For Charley,” said the lady, in surprise; ‘“ they’ll do
him more good than medicine. Poor little fellow he begins
to grow weaker with this warm weather.”

“JT must hurry home to him,” she said, a minute after ;
“and I can’t tell you how much we both thank you,
Jimmy. It was so kind of you to think of it.”





CHAPTER I.
4 HELPING HAND.

N Christmas morning, Jimmy was strolling through the
streets, not quite knowing how to enjoy his holiday,
when a pleasant voice wished him a “merry Christmas.”’
He turned in surprise to meet the smiling face of some one
who said, “I’ve been looking for you all the morning,
Jimmy. I thought you would be sure to come up this
street to look at the toys, and now I want you to come
home with me. Charley wants to see you.”

Jimmy followed the lady at a-respectful distance, feeling
more ashamed of his old rags than ever, and wondering
who Charley might be, and what he could want with him.
The lady stopped at a great boarding-house, and went up
four flights of stairs to a little room almost at the attic.

“This is where I live,” she said, motioning Jimmy to
enter the door, “and this is my brother Charley.”

Jimmy saw a very pale little face looking at him from
the pillows of the lounge, and made an awkward bow,
before he finished his examination of the rocm. It was
very plainly, almost poorly furnished; but on a stand
beside the little invalid were a fine orange, a bunch of hot-
house grapes, and a tiny bouquet of bright flowers. - They
were Charley’s Christmas gifts, and to buy them his sister
had denied herself of indulgences for weeks.



22 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“This is the little hoy who sent you the wild flowers,
Charley,” said his sister ; and Charley held out his thin
hand to Jimmy, and gave him a bright smile of welcome.

“What is your name besides Jimmy?” he asked
pleasantly ; “my name is Charley Fielding, and my sister
is Mary Fielding—we take care of each other now.”

“Tt used to be Jimmy Marvin; anyhow, that’s what
the old man called me, and I reckon he know’d.”

Charley drew his sister down to his sofa, and whispered
a request in herear. Whatever it was, she seemed a little
unwilling to grant it, for, as she lifted her head she said,
in a low tone,—

“O Charley!”

“Do let me, Mary,” he went eagerly on keeping hold of
her hand, “ you know I haven’t anything else to give, and
I never shall make any one a Christmas present again ”

“You shall do just as you please with the clothes,
Charley,” said the lady, kissing his little pale cheek, with
tears in her eyes. Presently she went toa trunk, and took
out, one by one, a complete suit of boy’s clothes a little
worn, but still very good.

“The cap, too, Mary,” said Charley, seeing his sister
lay back the cap, with its band of dark blue velvet.

But she only shook her head, and folded it up in its
wrappings. She could not forget how many times she had
watched from her window to see that dear little cap come
dancing along the sidewalk, with Charley’s bright curls
under it. She could not forget the dead mother’s hand

‘ that had shaped it with so many loving thoughts for her













































































































A HELPING HAND. 25

darling, and she knew that, very soon, when the sofa was
empty, the precious little cap would be a sacred thing to her.

But she took the clothes and brought them to Jimmy,
saying,— :

“Here, Jimmy, this is Charley’s Christmas present to
you. I should like it very much if you would make your-
self as clean as you can before you put them on. I will
place some water for you in the next room.”

Jimmy looked over the.clothes in perfect astonishment
hardly knowing what to say in acknowledgment. Then
he laid them deliberately on a chair, and started for the
door, saying,

“ T’ll be back in a minute or so.”’

Tn the course of half an hour he made his appearance,
with his ragged locks clipped close to his head, and brushed
into quite a comely fashion.

“You see, Ma’am,’’ he explained, “I didn’t want to
disgrace you by puttin’ on them things till I'd seen the
barber; and Bill Geary, he shampooned me and trimmed
me up nice, and only charged me sixpence, seein’ ’twas
Christmas.”

Charley did not think his clothes at all disgi.ced by
the neat-looking boy who came out of the little kitchen,
with his brown face shining, and his great, black eyes
bright with pleasure. He looked at himself with a great
deal of satisfaction, and when Mary Fielding brought out
the little mirror, which was ali the looking-glass she
possessed, he turned from side to side and seemed perfectly
delighted with the transformation. He took up his old



26 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

rags, and from some mysterious place brought out an old
stocking foot containing his small hoard of pennies and
silver coins.

“Give him my marble bag to put them in,” said
Charley ; and the money was soon changed into the neat
little bag, and placed in the inside pocket of the new jacket.
Jimmy held his old cap doubifully on his fist a moment,
turning it around in silence.

“Wait a minute, Jimmy,” said the lady. “I think I
can manage it for you,” and she put on her bonnet and
passed hastily out. She went straight to a large clothing-
store in the next block, and walked up to the proprietor,
who was sitting by the desk, looking over his papers.

“Good morning, Miss Fielding,” he said, “can I do
anything for you this morning ? ”

“ Yes, Mr. Neil,” said the lady, “I want you to make
me a Christmas present.” *

“ Certainly, certainly,” said Mr. Neil; “ choose for your-
self anything that pleases you.”

“Charley has a little rag-picker up-stairs, whom he has
fitted out with some of his cast-off clothes, but I cannot let
him give the cap away, because mother made it; and I
want you to give me an old cap that is not worth much—
anything will do.”

“ Here’s the very thing,” said Mr. Neil, opening a box
of warm, plush caps; ‘‘ these have been out of style these
two years, but they are warm, and I dare say Charley’s
protégé is not particular about the style. How is Charley
now, any better?”



A HELPING HAND. 27

“No better,” said the lady, gravely ; and she thanked
Mr. Neil for the cap and hurried away.

“ Here’s the very thing for you, Jimmy,” she said, as
she came back, “ Mr. Neil gave it to me for a Christmas
present.”

The new cap completed Jimmy’s delight. He had
~ never owned a new cap before, and it seemed too. much to
believe that he really was to be the owner of a whole suit,
from top to toe.

““Now,” said Charley, almost as well pleased as he,
“you can bundle up your old clothes, and throw them into
the gutter—they’ve done their duty.”

“Not by along shot, Mr. Charley,” said Jimmy, with
a funny twinkle of his eye; “them clothes is worth money
in the market. I shall sell ’em to old Judy, to-morrow.”

“What in the world are they good for?” asked the
lady, in astonishment.

“Good to make broadcloth!” said Jimmy. “ They'll
grind ’em up into shoddy, and make ’em up into cloth, and
some grand gentleman ’Il go struttin’ about with Jimmy
Marvin’s old rags on his back! Wouldn’t he squirm,
though, if he knew it?”

Jimmy tied up his bundle, and then suddenly opened
it, saying,—

“T’ve forgot my card.”

“What is that?” asked the lady, as he took a bit of
dirty pasteboard from the pocket.

“My card, Ma’am—the one you read to me on the
street,one morning. I can read it myself now: ‘ The hund



28 TIE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

of the diligent mal-eth rich.’ I haven’t forgat what you said
about it, neither.”

‘“*T wonder if you couldn’t find some better work than
rag-picking, Jimmy,” said the lady; “‘to be sure, it is an
honest way of getting a living, but it must be dirty and
disagreeable.”

“ Yes’m, it’s dirty enough,” said Jimmy ; “ and I’ve been
thinkin’ about startin’ in the newspaper business, only it
ain’t so sure as the rag trade, takin’ one day with another.”

“Bat if you sell papers, Jimmy, they’ll let you into the
newsboys’ lodging-house, and you’d have a comfortable
place to sleep, and a chance to learn a great many things
if you choose.”

Jimmy’s black eyes sparkled at the thought, and he
got right up from his chair, saying,—

“Till go in for to-night, Ma’am, so’s not to bring my
new clothes into bad company.”

Miss Fielding thought of the ragged little newsboys’
she had met on the streets, and could not help smiling to
think of their being any more respectable than Jimmy,
bué she promised him a noite of introduction to a gentleman
who had control cf one of the lodging-houses, and recom-
mended him to start with the evening papers.

“T expect you'll succeed, Jimmy,” she said, hopefully,
“and maybe I shall live to see you sent to Congress. Do
you know what that is?”

“No, Ma’am,” said Jimmy, innocently, “but I reckon
*taint to the lock-up, is it ?”

“Not exactly ; if you’d only make up your mind to be



A HELPING HAND. 29

honest and industrious, I don’t know of anybody that has
a better prospect of growing up to be good for something
in the world.”

“IT never cheated but once, Ma’am, and I settled it
once for all that time,” said Jimmy, with a very
decided shake of the head. ‘ That was when another cove
and me sold some ashes to the soap factory. A woman
gave ’em to us if we'd cart ’em off, and the other chap he
showed me how ’t we could mix coal ashes in, and make
’em weigh heavier, and we made "bout a shillin’ more, I
reckon; but every time it rattled in my pocket I thought
of what the old man said. Says he, ‘Jimmy, don’t never
touch a dishonest penny ; i'll be sure to burn a hole in your
pocket.’ Thinks I, ’twon’t never do to keep that shillin’ ;
made me feel kind o’ mean, too, and I couldn’t look a
pl’iceman in the face, for fear he was goin’ to jerk me up;
so I just took and flung it in the river. You don’t catch
me try any dodges ag’in.”

“The best way would have been to take it back to the
soap factory, and tell them about it,” said Charley.

“That shows how much you know about folks,” said
Jimmy. “They'd a called in the p’lice, and sent me right up.”

“Tt’s always best to be honest, though,” persisted Charley.

“Thats so,’ assented Jimmy, readily; “and now I
guess I'll go and get my papers.”

He went out at the door with his bundle of old clothes,
and then came back to say,—

“You jest take notice to-night, and you'll hear some
pretty loud yellin’ under your winder—lI’ve got a screecher



30 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

of a voice;” and he astonished the lodgers all down the
long halls by yelling as he went down the stairs,—

“°Hre’s the New York Lightnin’ Express; ’count of
the Explosion of the City Park, and great fire in ’Lantic
Ocean!”

“TI mean to keep a look-out for that boy,” said the lady,
laughing; “I believe he’s a born genius.”

“‘T shall keep a look-out for him, too,” said Charley,
thoughtfully ; “he goes to work on the right plan, at any
rate.” 2

His sister looked at his wasted form, with a sharp pang
at the thought that Charley’s earthly watching was almost
done, and she should soon be left alone.

“T’m so glad you thought to bring him here,” said
Charley, presently ; ‘‘ because it is so long since I’ve felt
as if I was of any use to anybody—and it seems so good
to make a merry Christmas for somebody, once more.”

“You make all days good to me, Charley,” said his
sister, forcing back the tears, with a bright smile; “so
don’t talk about not being of any use. Iam sure I couldn't
live without you.”

“Goud knows; and He loves us,” said Charley, in a
whisper, leaning back wearily on his pillows.

The letter of introduction gained Jimmy ready admit-
tance into the lodging-house, and he was invited to remain
and share the Christmas dinner which was served for the
newsboys at two o'clock. é

The boys received him with a chorus of shouts and



A HELPING HAND. 81

jokes that would have frightened a timid boy, but Jimmy
stood his ground bravely.

“If you're goin’ to live here,” said a tall boy, “you'll
have to be shaved; we shave all the greenies.”

“Come on, then,” said Jimmy, defiantly ; “just try it
on, if you think it’ll be healthy.”

But the boys rushed upon him like so many tigers, held
his hands behind his back, forced him into a chair, rubbed
strong soap over his face and eyes, and then roughly
scraped his cheeks with an old jack knife. In the midst
of the shouts and laughter, a gentleman came to the door,
and asked mildly,—

‘Boys, what are you doing? ”

“Only ’nitiating the new boy,” said a sturdy little
fellow, releasing Jimmy’s hands. Jimmy went quietly to
the. wash-bowl and washed the soap from his face.

“ That’s rather a rough way to welcome a friend,” said
the gentleman, smiling at J: ee
eeeleedonst Complains Sir,” said Jimmy: “I’ve seen a
sight of rough handlin’ in my day.”

“ He’s good grit,” said the tallest boy, “and I'll see
that he ain’t put upon ag’in.’

The sound of the fence bell started them all, with a
whoop, towards the dining-room, but as soon as the gentle-
man raised his hand, they subsided into quiet, and marched
in procession to the table.

The dinner, which had been provided partly by some
ladies who were interested in the enterprise, and partly by
contributions from the boys themselves, was in.every way



ao TIE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

abundant and tempting. There were roasted fowls, vege-
tables of all kinds, and pies and puddings in great
variety.

The boys did full justice to it, and it was amusing
enough to hear their comical remarks, and see how every
one was fairly running over with fun and satisfaction. —

“Sorry I haven’t anything better to offer you, Sir,”
said a fat boy, passing a plate of roast turkey to Jimmy ;
“but the fact is, you took me so by surprise I hadn’t time
to get up a swell dinner, and the servants drank up all my
champagne.”

“Don’t make any apologies,” said Jimmy, “I’m used
to frugal fare. Since my rich father turned me out of
doors, and the p’lice stole my watch and diamonds, I’ve
had to rough it considerable.”

“ Boys,” said the gentleman who had led them to the
table, “shall I read to you while you eat?”

“No!” said oue or two, bluntly. ‘“ Yes! said others;
and the confusion was worse than ever.

“Ts a funny story,” said the gentleman, “about a
boy that hung up his stocking on Cbristmas-eve, and got
a policeman in it.”

“Go ahead, then,” said arude boy; “ but don’t read us
nothin’ with a morrul to it.”

Jimmy saw a funny twinkle in the gentleman’s eye as
he began to read, but the boys seemed greatly delighted
with the story, and made no interruptions, swallowing the
liberal dose of moral at the end, with their plum-pudding,
without making any wry faces,



A HELPING HAND. 33

“Must have been a precious greeny,” said one of the
boys, “to hang his stocking on the outside of the
door.”

“T wish I’d come along there,” said another, “and
seed the notice to Santa Claus to stop and fill it; I’d a put
something jolly in.”

“But it did effect just what he wanted,” said the
gentleman ; “for you know the policeman felt so sorry for
the poor little fellow, that he couldn’t rest till he’d sent a
basket of nice things to the poor hovel.”

“T never know’d such things only in stories,” said the
tall boy; “ folks mostly take of theirselves, or else go
without.”

“T’ve known such things,” said Jimmy, bravely ; “ I’ve
seen ’em to-day. A lady called me in from the street, and
gave me these clothes in place of my old rags.”

Somebody outgrowed.’em, I reckon,” said the tall
boy, with a sneer; “that’s the way rich folks afford to be
generous.”

“They ain’t rich folks,” said Jimmy, indignantly ;
“they’re real poor, for Miss Mary said so, and she has to
work hard for a livin’ ; the boy he’s sick—got the consump-
tion or something—anyway, he ard his sister give me the
clothes, and I heard Charley say something about goin’
where the inhabitants should not say, ‘I am sick.’ I
reckon they’re goin’ to move to the country, but it’s my
mind he’ll die first.”

“He'd better die, ’nough sight, if he’s poor,’’ said the
tall boy, gloomily.

a



34 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“ There’s only one country where the inhabitants never
say ‘Iam sick,” said the gentleman, “and if Charley is
going there it will be a glorious exchange for him. But I
don’t think people ought to wish to die. I had a great
deal rather live and help to do the work of the world.”

“Do you s’pose anybody wants us to help?” asked a
shrewd little fellow with a very old face.

“ God wants you,” said the gentleman. “ He has some
special work in the world for every one of you; and He'll
show it to you, if you only try to find it.”

“T don’t know about that,” said the tall boy, who
seemed to be a sort of sour philosopher, “I like to see the
good of what I work for, and not take all the hard knocks,
and rough jobs, without any pay.”

“ God always pays us for what we do for Him, but I
don’t see that He is bound to pay us for working for our-
selves. The city doesn’t pay men for clearing the snow
away before their own doors.”

Jimmy noticed that all around the walls of the dining-
room were large cards, with Scripture mottoes on them ;
such as, ‘The fear of the Lord is the beginning of know-
ledge.’ “The hand of the diligent maketh rich.” “A
good name is rather to be chosen than great riches.”

His eyes lighted up with pleasure as he recognised his
own verse, and he read it over to himself with a determina-
tion he had never felt before. :

“‘We have lessons in the evening, if you like ’em,”’ said
the tall boy to Jimmy, “‘ and somebody reads history to us.



A HELPING HAND. 85

There’s a Savings’ Bank, too, and most of the boys put in
something every week.”

“ That's good,” said Jimmy; “I never had any chance
to learn, and if there’s anything for me to do in the world,
I should like to know it.”

“Should you? ” said the tall boy, gloomily.

“Why, of course,” said Jimmy, laughing; “I should
hate to stand in anybody’s way, when I might just as well
be getting on.”

“It’s a mighty hard world for poor folks,” said the tall
boy.

“Ts itP” said Jimmy; “ why, I’ve always had a jolly
time in it. When anybody gives me a kick, it always
seems to send me just the way I wanted to go.”

That evening a short lesson in reading and writing was
given to the boys, and an interesting chapter in history
was read to them by the same gentleman who read them
the story at dinner. Iam sorry tosay Jimmy fell fast asleep
during the reading, but then he was tired, and did not
quite understand what it was all about. He was wide
awake enough when another gentleman began to lead the
boys in singing a lively song with this chorus,—

“Then work, my boys, with heart and hand,
Until your work is done ;
There’s work for you and me to do,
There’s work for every one.”

“When I was a boy,” said the gentleman, “‘I used to
write in my copy book, ‘ There is no royal road to knowledge,’
and I often wondered what it meant. I suppose it meant

02



36 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

that everybody had to get knowledge in the same way,
whether they were rich or poor, and that way is by hard,
honest work. I call that a ‘royal road,’ don’t you, boys?
It’s good enough for anybody to walk in; and it’s a royal
road because it leads to almost everything worth having.
It’s the royal road to riches, and the royal road to fame,
and the royal road to almost everything that men can win
in this life.”

The white room where the boys slept was long and
narrow, and had rows of small, clean beds on each side.
The beds were numbered, and number twenty-three was
assigned to Jimmy. He hardly knew how to go to bed in
any respectable style, he had so long been used to sleeping
in his clothes on a pile of loose straw, but when he did go
to sleep, it was to dream he was climbing on his hands and
knees up a very steep hill, while far at the top shone the
magical words, “ Royat Roap to Ricuzs!”

The next day began in good earnest the new work of
selling newspapers, and Jimmy soon “ got the hang of it,”
as the boys say, and was quite successful at his work.
But he enjoyed more than any of the others the comfort of
a respectable home, and no one gave closer attention to the
evening lessons, or seemed more determined to make the
most of every opportunity for improvement.

“What's the good of studying?” the tall boy would
sometimes say to him. “May as well have a, little fun,
evenings; we'll never come to no good, anyhow.”

“T mean to come to something,” Jimmy would answer ;



A HELPING HAND. 37

“ shouldn’t wonder if they’d be appointing me to the legis-
lature one of these days; I’m bound to beat those Foster
boys, anyhow, and let ’em see I’m just as smart as they
are.”

And then Jimmy would tell him about Benjamin
Franklin, who was only a poor printer, and Roger Sherman
who was a shoemaker; and whenever he talked about
them, his brown cheeks would glow, and his eyes would
flash with the fire of resolute determination, and he would
take up his book in a way that made one feel sure that if
there was any royal road to riches, the earnest boy would
be sure to find it.









CHAPTER III.
GOING WEST.

NCE or twice, when Jimmy was going his rounds with

his papers, he had met the lady who had so kindly

taken an interest in him. The first time they met she

stopped and asked him how he was getting on, and told

him, sadly, that Charley was getting much weaker. But

she did not ask him to come and see them, only as they
parted she said,

“Tf you need my help, Jimmy, don’t be afraid to come
and ask it, though I think you’re not likely to want me
now you’re fairly on your feet.”

One day in the early spring, when the warm sunshine
and the soft south wind had made even the city people
think pleasantly of green banks that were getting yellow
with dandelions, Jimmy stopped for a minute to look at
some lovely greenhouse plants which were displayed for
sale at a florist’s door.

‘“*Must be flowers in the woods by this time,” said
Jimmy ; “liverwort and bloodroot and saxifrage. I mean
to go and get some for Charley.”

’ And go he did; but when he knocked at the door of
the little fourth-storey room, with the pale, delicate flowers
already beginning to droop over his hand, there came a
strange face in answer to his knock—a coarse woman, who



GOING WEST. 89

told him she had rented the rooms two months before, and
knew nothing of the former occupants. The landlady her-
self could only tell him that two months ago the boy had
died, and his sister had gone away ; somewhere out of the
city, she thought, though she had little time to trouble
herself with comers and goers.

So Jimmy went back sadly to his work, feeling some-
what as if the great city was a very different place to him
now that these two friends had gone away from it. The
spring flowers brightened the study room of the lodging-
house for several days, and every time Jimmy looked at
them they made him think of Charley, and he hoped they
had made his grave somewhere in the green country, where
the spring flowers would grow over it.

Mr. Walters, the gentleman whom he had first met at
the lodging-house, took a warm interest in Jimmy, and
used often to talk to him about going away from the city
to live. ;

“T don’t like the country about here, Mr. Walters,”
Jimmy said, one day; “I’ve tried it, and I know I
shouldn’t feel satisfied. But I should like to go out West,
if I could; John Freeman says, ‘the West is the country
for young men.’”

“And what does John Freeman know about it?” said
Mr. Walters, smiling.

He’s got a cousin living out in Michigan, and I wrote
a letter for him, and asked him to send out some money to
pay John’s fare up there. Do you think he’ll be likely to
do it, Sir? ”



40 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“As I don’t know John Freeman’s cousin, of course 1
can’t tell,’ said Mr. Walters; “but if I were the cousin, I
should think a stout boy of sixteen years, who could not
earn his own passage to Michigan, was not worth the
trouble of bringing out there.”

_ “How could anybody earn his passage ?”’ said Jimmy,
eagerly ; “I mean, how could I do it?”

“ Well,” said Mr. Walters, deliberately, “I can think
of a good many ways. You have some money in the
Savings’ Bank, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” said Jimmy; “but I don’t mean to spend
that unless I am obliged to.”

“That’s right enough. But you might get some Bay
on the street to give you a few lessons in boot blacking—
it isn’t a hard business to learn, and you’d soon catch it.
Then take enough of your money to buy a ticket to the
first large city on your way; say to Rochester. Then you
must stop till you can earn enough to go farther, and so
goon until you reach Michigan—that is, if you want to
go there; but I wouldn’t advise you to do it.”

“Isn’t Michigan a good place, Sir?” asked Jimmy,
wonderingly.

“Good enough, I dare say,” said Mr. Walters; “ but
if you go west, I want you to go to Ohio. I know some
people there who might do something to help you
along.”

Neither Mr. Walters nor Jimmy said anything more
about it for some time; but one day some months after-
wards, as Mr. Walters was coming from his office to the



GOING WEST. 4)

lodging-house, he was greeted by a familiar voivc, which
asked,—

“ Black your boots, Sir?”

“Why, Jimmy Marvin!” he exclaimed, in great sur-
prise, ‘‘ what has sent you into this business?”

“T’m only experimenting, Sir; may I try my hand on
your boots?”

“To be sure,” said Mr. Walters, setting his foot on the
block; “mind you do it well.”.

“Yes, Sir,” said Jimmy ; and in a very few minutes he
put a polish on Mr. Walters’ boots, that proved him a pro-
ficiont in his new trade.

“You'll do,’ said Mr. Walters, examining them and
looking curiously at Jimmy ; “I wonder what this means.”

“I means,” said Jimmy, triumphantly, “that I am
getting ready to go to Ohio.”

“O, I remember,” said Mr. Walters and then they
went together into the study room.

Jimmy made up his mind to two things before evening,
and he came home to the lodging-house with an expression
on his bright, intelligent face which attracted Mr. Walters’
attention at once. After supper, instead of joining the
boys in the play-room, he went to the little office where
Mr. Walters, was crediting the amounts paid into the
Savings’ Bank by the boys during the day.

“Well, Jimmy,” said Mr. Walters, pleasantly, “ did
you want to see me to-night?”

“Yes, Sir,” said Jimmy, looking very much excited
about something ; “I’ve made up my mind to go west.”



42 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES,

“Have you?” asked Mr. Walters; “you are not
going with any one, are you ?”

“T’m going on my own account, Sir,” said Jimmy; “I
mean to pay my way with my blacking brushes, as you told
me once; and I thought J’d leave my money here for safe
keeping, till I want to go into business somewhere.”

Mr. Walters, smiled a little, and then asked, ‘‘ What
part of the west did you think of going to? You know
it is a pretty large country.”

“T don’t know,” said Jimmy, whose ideas of geography
were not very clear; “I thought maybe there'd be a city
up there somewhere at the end of the railroad.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Walters, gravely, “I believe there is
one—several of them, in fact. See here, Jimmy, I'll make
you a map. This is New York, in this corner—not the
city, but the whole State—and this little dot here is the
city. On here is Ohio—that’s another State—then come
Indiana and Illinois, and up here is Michigan. That is
enough for your purpose. Now this mark is a railroad ;
it starts here from New York city, goes clear through the
State, through Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, to this dot.
That is another great city, called Chicago. This dot here
is the city of Rochester—this is Buffalo—this is Cleveland
—and this one down here is Columbus. I'll print the
names, and you can keep the map to look at. Nowdo you
want me to advise you a little?”

“T meant to ask you about it, because I thought I'd

better start to-morrow.”
“So soon? Well, perhaps it’s best, for the bootblacks



GOING WEST. 43

will tell you this is a famous month for muddy boots. If
I were you I’d make up my mind to go to Ohio, and no
farther, at present. Do you think you can manage it?”

“Yes, Sir,” said Jimmy, confidently. “TI ain’t afraid
to try.”

“T think, on the whole, you’d better take your money
with you—at least a part of it; you know you might be
sick, and it would not be safe to go without any.”

Jimmy nodded his head, and Mr. Walters took out his
knife and began slowly to sharpen his pencil. He felt as
if he wanted in some way to help Jimmy a little more, but
he could not see just how to do it,

“I might give you a letter to some one in Cleveland, if
I knew just who would be likely to do you any good,” he
said, reflectively. “It seems hard to start out with no
particular plans, and no one to plan for you.”

“Mr. Walters,” said Jimmy, hesitating, “you told us
boys, this morning, about some One who planned things
for you, and brought you out all right, and I thought,
maybe, seeing it wouldn’t be any trouble to Him to look
after me a little, I might as well ask Him to take me in
hand.”

“ Well,” said Mr. Walters, as Jimmy paused.

“Well, I just asked Him about it, and I agreed to do
my part as well as I know how; and if He’d help me to
get on, why by and by I’d give some other chap a lift.”

“ And so pay off y our debt to the Lord, and make it all
square, I suppose,” said Mr. Walters, looking keenly at
Jimmy.



44, THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“No, Sir, not quite that. That would be only giving
Him back His own again; but we can’t do anything for
Him, you know, and so we have to do it for other folks—
just to show we ain’t shamming, you see.”

“T see,” said Mr. Walters; and he added, more to him-
self than to Jimmy, “ Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought
also to love one another.”

The next morning, Jimmy astonished the boys by
gravely bidding them good-bye, and starting away for the
western train with Mr. Walters. They were full of noisy
good wishes and rough jokes, but Jimmy was very quiet
and grave. He felt as if he had undertaken a great thing,
and although his courage was as good as ever, yet it really
was running a great risk, for a boy like him to leave
everybody he had ever known, and start out to make his
way alone. Mr. Walters took him to his own home, and
gave him a warm, comfortable breakfast, and his wife
sewed up Jimmy’s money in a little bag of oiled silk, which
she fastened in his clothes.

“This is your ‘distress fund,’ you know, Jimmy,” she
said ; “and you are only to use it in case of need.”

“Yes’m,” said Jimmy; “and I wish you’d pnt this
card in with it.”

Mrs. Walters glanced in surprise at the soiled b:4 of
pasteboard, worn and torn atthe edges, and read aloud,
“The hand of the diligent maketh rich.”

“That’s a good motto, Jimmy; where did you get it?”

“A little girl dropped it on my crossing, most two
years ago. That was what first made me think about



GOING WEST. ad

trying to be somebody—tnat and what the lady said to me
about it.”

Mrs. Walters put it in the bag with the money, and
Jimmy’s little account book, where all his savings were set
down. Then Mr. Walters brought out a little trunk of
japanned tin, and put Jimmy’s brushes and block into it,
saying,

“ There, Jimmy, that little trunk held all my property
when I came to this Country: and I’m going w give it to
you to put your fortune in.’

Jimmy was delighted with the trank, and could not
help thinking it gave him a respectable look. One hour
later, Mr. Walters saw him seated in a car bound for
Rochester, and bade him good-bye with hearty regret; yet
feeling confident, after all, that he should be sure to hear
again from Jimmy Marvin, and that he should hear nothing
but good.

One cloudy morning, near the first of December, a
quiet, shrewd-looking little fellow was walking up and
down the platform of the great depdt in Cleveland,
watching the men as they tumbled the trunks and boxes
from the baggage cars to the trucks, and seeming to have
an eye open to everything that was going on. He carried
a little tin trunk in his hand, and had quite the look ofa
man of business. A train that had been switching up and
down now gave out its warning whistle, and as the
passengers left their breakfasts half eaten, and hurried into
the carriages, a brakeman, who had been watching the
hoy, called out,—



eee
15 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“Here tin trunk! want a job?”

“Yes, Sir,” said the boy, promptly, as he hurried to
the train.

“Jump up here, then,” and he caught the boy by the
hand and swung him on to the platform, just as the train
moved out of the depét.

“ What’s your name?” he asked, holding fast to his
brake, and peering ahead to see the switch-tender’s signal.

“ Jimmy Marvin,” said the boy.

“ Fiver run on a train P”

“No,” said Jimmy. “I’ve sold newspapers, and
blacked boots, and picked rags, and done lots of other
things.”

“You'll do I reckon. You see ‘ Peanuts’ is took down
with fever—”

“What?” asked Jimmy, ignorantly.

““¢ Peanuts ’—he’s the train boy—’tends to the fires,
waters the passengers, and makes money out o’ the
greenies with peanuts, pop corn, and candy, and such.”

Here the brakeman left Jimmy, and bolted through
the car in obedience to some signal, and while he was
gone Jimmy had a minute to think aboutit. He liked
the idea, on the whole, and when the brakeman came
back, he readily agreed to take the place of the train bey
until he got well again.

“Providin’ he does get well,” added the brakeman.
“The chances are allers agin’ a feller in them cheap
boardin’ houses; between the nussin’ and the doctor, it’s a
hard row, Ef he dics, the News Company that takes



GOING WEST A?

charge of a good many of the roads may put a boy on.
We had a special bargain with Peanuts, and he was a
reg’lar straight outer—no cheatin’ or shammin’ about him.”

“That's the best way,” said Jimmy, decidedly; and he
entered upon his new duties with a determination to do
his best to win a good name, too.

There was nothing for him to sell that day; but he
attended to the fires and carried water through the cars,
and the good-natured brakeman promised to go with him,
when they reached the end of their route, and recommend
him to the man of whom Peanuts used to buy his stock in
trade.

“T don’t know nothin’ about ye, youngster,” he said,
as they walked along, “ but I’ve took a fancy to you: I’ve
seen heaps o’ boys, and I know the cut of ’em mighty
well,”

Jimmy invested a small amount in candy, oranges and
peanuts, according to the brakeman’s advice.

“T shan’t buy pop corn,” he decided, “ for it ain’t fit to
eat unless it’s fresh ; and if I get on well 1’ll buy a popper
and pop it myself. That'll be cheaper, and better, too.”

The brakeman offered to take Jimmy to his boarding-
place and let him share his room, until he could make
some other arrangement. To be sure, it was only a poor
little room in the fifth story of a dingy boarding-house,
but Jimmy had slept in worse places; and by the time he
had told the brakeman his story, what he had been and
what he meant to be, the man was so much interested in
him, that he pr’vately made up his mind to let him stay



48 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES

with him, provided he proved to be what they wanted on
the train. \

And now Jimmy was fairly started in business, and he
felt at least five years older, as he planned his daily
purchases, and counted up his daily gains. He was so
attentive and obliging, that he was soon a favourite on the
train, and he still shared the room of the brakeman,
staying one night at Cleveland and the next at Columbus,
so that his board cost him much less than if he had hired
@ room.





CHAPTER IV.
LOSS AND GAIN:

IMMY’S railroad speculations seemed to promise
abundant success; but, some time in January, his
friend, the brakeman, informed him that the train was
given in charge to the News Company, who would put one
of their own boys on: it.

“I’m mighty sorry ’bout it, and I did my best to get
’em to keep you on, and so did the conductor; but they
said the other chap had the promise of the first chance.”

Jimmy was a good deal disappointed, and for a minute
he felt discouraged. He was sitting on the edge of the
bed, which served for the only seat in the small chamber,
and for a while he did not say a word. Then he got up
and deliberately pulled off his boots.

“‘What are you going to do?” asked his friend.

“Going to bed,” said Jimmy.

“But about the train? I mean. I’ve tried to think of
something, for I don’t fancy letting you go; but I can’t
see no way.”

“T can’t see anything now: it looks pretty bad; but
maybe I shall think of something in the morning. Mr.
Walters told me once that the best thing that could happen
to us, sometimes, was to bo disappointed.”

“There’s one thing I can do for you: you can just

D



50 THE ROYAL ROAD TO BICHES.

stay here as long as you please,’ said the brakeman,
heartily.

in the morning, Jimmy woke up. bright and hopeful.
The first thing he did was to make a bargain with the
woman who kept the boarding-house, by which he was to
pay for his meals by doing some work at morning and
evening. Then he got out his little tin trunk, and started
for the station, with his blacking brushes. The ragged
boys, who waited around the platform with their brushes,
gathered about him- with rude shouts, when they found
out his business, but Jimmy either took no notice of them
or answered them good naturedly, and, in spite of all they
could do, he had several customers, and went home to
dinner with half a dollar in his pocket.

So matters went on for several weeks, and nothing
better seemed to be open to Jimmy, though he tried hard
to get a situation as parcel boy in a store, until he found
that he could earn more money at blacking boots. _

One day, as he was passing a large hotel, a gentleman
came down the steps, whose dusty boots attracted Jimmy’s
eye in a moment.

“ Black your boots, Sir? ” he aaiced:

“No,” said the gentleman, absently, buttoning up his
overcoat; then, glancing at Jimmy, he stopped, and said,
“T don’t care if you do, though, only be in a hurry.”

Jimmy went about the work, and the gentleman watched
him keenly.

“'That’s pretty well done,” he remarked, as the first
boot was finished. “Do you work in here?”



Loss AND GAIN. 51

“ At the hotel? No, Sir. I work wherever I can find
a job. I board with Mrs. Brown on Water-street.”

“Ah!” said the gentleman, smiling, “I thought you
lads peared at large, wherever you could find a crack to
curl up in.’

“Some of us have to,” said Jimmy ; “I’m lucky, my-
self. I work for my board.”

“And what do you do?” asked the gentleman,
beginning to feel interested.

“I carry coal to all the rooms on the second floor:
up-stairs lodgers don’t have any fire. I sweep the front
pavement, and scrub the steps once a week, and blacken the
boots for the telegraph chaps and old Mr. Simmons.”

“ Pretty well, I should think,” said the gentleman, taking
out his pocket-book; and, as he paid Jimmy for his work,
he looked pleasantly at him, and added, “‘ Honest work and
honest ways have been the making of many aman. I’ve been
a poor boy myself; not so very many years ago, either.”

“Seems to me,” thought Jimmy, as he looked after the
gentleman, “ most everybody that’s ne account used to be
poor. Must be the grit there is in’em.’

Not long afterward, as he was watching for a customer
in the crowd of passengers who were hurrying away from
a train, his eye brightened with pleasure to recognise the
same gentleman again. The gentleman remembered
Jimmy, too, and readily stopped on the steps of the depot
to have his boots polished.

“Well, my boy,” he asked, “ and how are you getting
along in ae world?”

D2



52 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“ Pretty well; only I should like to find some better
work,” said Jimmy.

‘Ah! don’t it pay, blacking boots?”

“Pays well enough; most anything pays if you stick
to it: but then a fellow wouldn’t want to black boots all
his life, you know.”

“T should think not,” said the gentleman, with an
amused smile. “You hayen’t told me what your name is
yet.”

“Jimmy Marvin.” And the bright, inquisitive eyes
glanced up at the gentleman’s face, as if they would like to
ask a question, too.

“That’s a pretty good name; my name is Jimmy, too;
or, at least it used to be when I was a boy—Jimmy
Warren.”

“T’ve heard of that name before,” said Jimmy, without
looking up from his brushes. ‘“ General Warren, you know,
that was killed in the war of the Revolution.”

‘“‘Tndeed,” said the gentleman. ‘And who killed him,
I should like to know?”

“The British soldiers killed him, at the battle of
Bunker’s Hill; only, you know, it ought to have been
called ‘ Breed’s Hill,’ because they made a mistake in the
night, and didn’t go to Bunker’s Hill at all.”

Jimmy paused in his work, and looked eagerly up at
the gentleman.

‘“‘ Where did you learn that?” he asked, in surprise.

“©Q, in the newsboys’ lodging-house, in New York!
They taught us all about the Revolution, there.”



LOSS AND GAIN. 53

“So you have been in New York, have you? I should
like to know how you came out here? ”

“ Worked my way, Sir,” said Jimmy, briefly, giving the
finishing touch to his work.

“What made you come? ” asked the gentleman.

“Because I wanted to do something for myself, and
there didn’t seem tobe much chancethere. I’ve heard that
the West was the best place for poor boys, but I haven’t
seemed to find much chance, yet.”

“And so you’re waiting for a chance, are you? ”

“Yes, Sir; waiting and working. I can’t afford to be
idle, you know ; and then I think of my motto.”

“What is itP ”’ asked the gentleman, looking at his
earnest, cheerful face, with admiration.

“‘The hand of the diligent maketh rich,” said Jimmy,
mechanically, as he sprang to secure another customer, who
was just passing.

“That's a remarkable boy,” said the gentleman to
himself. “I wonder if I couldn’t help him to the chance
he’s waiting for.”

He walked to the door of the depdt, then came slowly
back and stood a moment looking at Jimmy, who seemed
to be putting his whole mind to his work.

“ Jimmy,” he said, presently, “I should like to have a
little talk with you, but we haven’t either of us time to
spare now. I live about twelve miles out of the city,
and if you would like to go out with me I will pay your
passage out, and back in the morning.”



54 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“J think I should like to go, Sir,” said Jimmy, looking
pleased, but not stopping his work.

“Very well. I shall be here in time for the evening
express, and you can make up your mind about it.”

“J hope I haven’t picked up another foolish job,”
thought the gentleman, as he hurried away. “If he
should turn out like that little rascal of a Tom, that took
me in so completely ; but this one don’t look like a cheat,
and it seems to me as if the Lord had put him in my way
on purpose that I might help him. It’s somebody’s business,
and why not mine?”

All day Mr. Warren was too busy to think of Jimmy ;
but at evening, as he hurried to the train, he was quite
pleased to find him waiting for him, looking so clean and
tidy that he did not feel at all ashamed of his travelling
companion.

“So you concluded to go, did you 2 ” he said.

“Yes, Sir; it’s great luck to me to get invited any-
‘where. I owt believe I ever was invited anywhere
before.”

Then Jimmy told Mr. Warren all he knew of his own
history ; adding, rather sadly, as he finished,

‘“‘ Sometimes I wish’t I had some relations, somewhere.
Seems hard not to belong to anybody in particular, and
not to have anybody to care whether a fellow goes up or
down.”

“ Some One does care,” said Mr. Warren, ‘ Some One
says not a sparrow falls to the ground without our Father’s
notice, and then adds, in a very comforting way, ‘ Fear



LOSS AND GAIN. 55

not therefore ; ye are of more value than many sparrows.’
You know about that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir. The parson preached about it, once, to us
boys at the Home. I s’pose it’s all so, though sometimes
it don’t seem quite true. It’s a good ways up to heaven,
and I should like to have somebody to ask me, once ina
while, how I get along.”

Mr. Warren felt the keenest sympathy for the lonely
boy, for he remembered how often, in his struggling boy-
hood, he should have felt Jike giving up in despair, but for
the dear, hopeful mother, whose smiles were his daily
strength, and the loving little sister, for whom he was
ready to go through almost any hardship.

By this time the train was at the station, and the
brakeman shouted “ Shelby ” in at the door, so that nobody
had the faintest idea what he said, unless he happened to
live there, as Mr. Warren did. He and Jimmy left the
car, and from behind the small station a man came to
meet them.

“All right at home, George?” asked Mr. Warren,
walking briskly through the station.

“ All right, Sir,” answered the man, with a curious
glance at Jimmy.

Behind the station, a pair of handsome horses were
harnessed to a light farm wagon.

“Jump in, Jimmy,” said Mr. Warren, as he sprang into
the wagon; and the three were quickly riding over the
smooth road, towards a pleasant-looking farmhouse on
the outskirts ofthe town. It was too dark to see distinctly,



(86 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

but through the large windows of one room a bright fire
shone out and gave a pleasant picture of two little faces
pressed against the pane, and a lady passing to and fro.
Mr. Warren knew, too, that in the snuggest corner was a
dear old lady, whose placid face bore few marks of all the
storms that had beaten against it, and in his heart arose
the glad thoughts of thanksgiving with which he always
came back to his dear nest of a home.

As for Jimmy, he felt something in his throat that half
choked him, though he could not tell why; and for a
moment he wished himself back in the little boarding-
house attic, with the rough brakeman for his companion.

‘* Perhaps you'd like to go out with George to put up
the horses,” said Mr. Warren, understanding very well
that it would be a trial to Jimmy to face the whole family.

“Yes, Sir,” said Jimmy, with a feeling of relief. And
he and George were soon at the barn, making the acquaint-
ance of the horses and cows. Before they came in, they
managed to get acquainted with each other, and Jimmy felt
a good deal stronger for the rest.

There was certainly nothing very alarming about the
placid old lady who took his hand, with a pleasant smile,
and said, “‘Thee is very welcome, James,” in a way that
made Jimmy wonder if she meant him.

Mrs. Warren was a kindly little woman, and the
children were too much occupied with their father to care
much for any one else, so Jimmy found himself sitting at
the bountiful supper-table and afterwards filling a corner
of the room, with a very pleasant feeling of having a share








Ai) pall
WY OL |





Loss AND GAIN. 59

in the love and warmth of home. The children brought
him their games and books, and the grandmother called
him James, in her plain Quaker speech, and altogether it was
so delightful that he felt as if he must be ina strange
dream.

He shared a large, airy chamber with George, who
proceeded to satisfy his own curiosity about Jimmy, by
asking him all manner of questions.

“Mr, Warren’s. hired you, I reckon?” he suggested,
inquiringly.

“No, he hasn’t,” said Jimmy, “but I wish he would.
He’s rich, isn’t he P ”

“ Not so very ; worth a good deal for a farmer, though.
This is a stock farm, and there’s a sight more money in
stock than in crops, and not so much work.”

“T wish he would hire me,” repeated Jimmy. “Do
you s’pose I could do anything on a farm? ”’ and he looked
anxiously at his companion.

“ Well,” said. George, deliberately, “we rather need
_ another hand, and Mr. Warren talked of getting one of
the Lowry boys; they was raised on a farm, but they’re
shif’less lubbers, all of’em. Know anything ’bout stock ? ”

“No,” said Jimmy, honestly. “I can tell a sheep from
a pig, and that’s about all; but I could learn.”

“Of course you could,” said George, whose heart was
completely taken by this frank confession of ignorance.

“T didn’t know much myself, first start, but I always
took to animals naturally. They’ve got a good deal more
sense than most folks know for.”



60 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

Mr. Warren came out next morning, where Jimmy was
watching the feeding of a troop of half-grown colts, that
held possession of an immense straw stack. Rough,
shaggy-looking fellows they were, but with a keen flash in
their eyes, and and a world of strength and life in every
untamed limb. Jimmy watched them with a pleasure that
was new to him. There was something daring and un-
tamed in his heart that. beat in sympathy with the strong
animal life before him, and Mr. Warren recognized it in
the very expression of his face.

“You like horses,” he said, smiling.

“Yes, Sir,” said Jimmy ; “I like these the best of any
Tever saw. They ain’t so nice, either,” he added, and
then paused.

“Nice!” broke in George, indignantly. ‘“TI’d like to
see anybody get a likelier lot of colts than that together.”

“T understand what Jimmy meuns,” said Mr.. Warren.
“Colts need a good deal of training and dressing, to smooth
them up for market; but any one who is used to horses
can tell when the right kind of muscle isinthem. They're
a good deal like boys in that.”





CHAPTER V.
PROGRESS,

R. WALTERS was as busily engaged in his missionary

work among the newsboys as ever; and though he

met with many discouragements, yet now and then he had

the satisfaction of seeing some real good as the result of
his labours.

One day, among his letters he took up one with a
western postmark.

“Shelby, Ohio,” he said, as he opened it; “who can
have written to me out there? ”

He turned, wonderingly, to the signature, and read,
“From your grateful friend, Jimmy Marvin.”

“Dear me,’ said Mr. Walters, with a look of great
satisfaction on his tired face; “so I wasn’t mistaken in
that boy, after all.”

Business letters had to wait, that day, till the last line
of Jimmy’s letter was read.

He told him all about his working his passage to
Cleveland, and then going as train boy until he lost the
place.

“Tt seemed pretty hard to go back to my brushes
again,” wrote Jimmy, “but I remembered bow you used
to tell us nobody need be ashamed of any kind of honest



62 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

work, so I went at it, and did the best I could. It was
good that it ever happened to me, for that’s how I got
acquainted with Mr. Warren, where I live now. He’s a
farmer, but he raises stock on his farm, and he hired me to
help him. I didn’t get much at first, but I’m doing pretty
well now. I’ve learnt most all about farming, and Miss
Ruth, that’s Mr. Warren’s sister, she gives me lessons
every evening. The folks are all kind to me, and Mr.
Warren always says our farm, to George and me, and it
seems as if we-had a share in everything. You ought to
see our colts—there’s forty-six of ’em; and when we turn
“em loose in the pasture, mornings, they set up their heads
and tails and go racing around, and it always makes me
toss up my cap and say ‘hurrah!’ I’ve got some stock
too. Mr. Warren sold me two lambs for a dollar. Their
mother died, and they were such little sickly things,
George was going to kill’em. But I asked Mr. Warren to
let me have ’em, and he laughed, and said I should try
my hand, and if they lived I should pay him a dollar for
‘em. I raised ’em myself, only Miss Ruth helped me; and
I don’t think they ever would have lived, if it hadn’t been
for her. They’re real lively now, and run all about the
farmyard; and George says next year they’ll be worth
five dollars a piece.”

Jimmy closed by sending his love to the boys, and
requesting Mr. Walters to forward the money he had left
in the bank.

On the back of the letter, Mr..Warren had added this
message of his own—



PROGRESS. 63

“ James Marvin is a faithful, industrious, intelligent boy.
I am well pleased with him, and think he is fitting himself
to fill an honourable and useful place in life.”

“That pays for a hundred failures and discourage-
ments,” thought Mr. Walters, as he folded the letter and
laid it away.

And in less than a week Jimmy’s heart was gladdened
by a long letter from his friend in New York, which was
carefully laid away among his treasures.

As the Spring came rapidly on, the work on the farm
increased, and all hands were busily employed. The great
crops of the farm were hay and oats, which were raised as
food for the stock; but there were extensive fields of corn,
and the great garden, with its abundant supply of all kinds
of vegetables. Jimmy found himself deeply interested in the
success of everything, for Mr. Warren very wisely thought
that the only way to make his help really valuable, was to
impress them with the idea that they were all mutually
dependent upon each other, and whatever was for the good
of one was for the good of all. So they came very naturally
to talk and think about “our farm” and “ our crops;” and
Jimmy, especially, seemed to have brought every living
creature about the place into a kind of sympathy with him.
The sheep came to lick salt from his hand, the farm horses
laid their great heads familiarly on his shoulder, and even
the troop of unbroken colts recognised his presence with a
friendly neigh.

A great deal of the garden work fell to Jimmy’s share.
The potatoes, sweet corn, and some of the larger crops,



64 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

were kept clean by a one-horse cultivator, but among the
smaller vegetables was almost daily work for the hand and
hoe. Miss Ruth superintended the garden, so Jimmy
worked under her directions. She soon saw that it was
not quite to his taste, and that she must use a little -
diplomacy about it.

“You see, Jimmy,” she said, as they were transplanting
cabbages, in a fine misty rain, “we all take turns about
the garden. Last year Mrs. Warren and George managed
it; and I can tell you they made a fuss over it. Why,
Mrs. Warren was so proud of her beets she would scarcely
let us pull any to eat, because it spoilt the rows; and if we
wanted any cabbage, we had to slip off a head when George
was out of the way, and hide the stump. I just thought
we'd show ’em, this year, that other folks could do as
much as they did; and I believe we shall beat them
completely.”

That was enough for Jimmy. It was our garden, now,
and instead of simply helping Miss Ruth, he was an inde-
pendent gardener with Miss Ruth for counsel.

In haying and harvesting, there came a troop of day
labourers to the farm, and two stout servants to the house,
and the great work of the season was made more a frolic
than toilsome work. For the rest of the season, George and
Jimmy, with Mr. Warren to aid and direct, kept everything
in working order, though many a farmer wondered how
Mr. Warren managed to “run his farm with so little help.”
The secret was partly in the help themselves,—for intelli-
gent labour is worth twice a8 much as mere ignorant



PROGRESS. 65

strength,—but a great deal more in the perfect system
with which all the work was arranged, so that no time
went to waste, and the workers did not interfere with each
other.















































CHAPTER VI.
SCHOOLING.

3 HEN winter came, Mr. Warren propused to Jimmy

that he should go to school for four months; and
Jimmy was very glad of the chance. But, to his great
surprise, Mr. Warren decided that he had better attend the
academy.

“ Not because I think you could not learn a great deal
in the public school, but at the academy you can come and
go when you please, and we can arrange for you te come
home early enough to help George through with the even-
ing work.”

So Jimmy was regularly admitted as a pupil at the
academy ; at first he felt strange and awkward, when he
found himself among a set of boys and girls who were
rather disposed to look down upon the new comer.

“‘ He’s only a hired boy at Mr. Warren’s,” said a pretty
little simpleton, loudly enough for Jimmy to hear her. “I
don’t see what he wants to come here for.”

Jimmy didn’t know that the little simpleton’s father
had been “only a hired boy” for a great many years of
his life; but he had enough good sense not to feel at all
ashamed of himself or his work, though he did not relish
being laughed at, any better than other boys do.



SCHOOLING. 67

So he felt a good deal relieved, when he heard the
teacher say to the little lady,

“T’m only a hired man myself, and I don’t see but it’s
just as honourable to be paid for feeding sheep as for train-
ing a lot of young—”

“Say a lot of young donkeys, Mr. Latimer,” inter-
rupted a merry girl; “ that’s what we are, anyhow.”

There was just a suspicion in Mr. Latimer’s mind, that
the merry girl chose to call herself a donkey, for the sake
of including her young companion; but he only smiled
good-naturedly at them both, and walked away with Jimmy.
The few words of quiet encouragement, which he found
opportunity to say to him before he left him, did Jimmy a
world of good.

‘“‘J’m always glad when I see a boy trying to push his
way in the world, especially if he has a good deal to con-
tend with, and not very much to help him. I’ve been
through it all myself. I’ve been a poor boy, and I’m a
poor man now, but I’m getting on a little every year.”

“There’s another of ’em,” thought Jimmy, as Mr.
Latimer turned away; “I’d no idea there were so many
poor boys in the world; and seems to me the poor ones
have the best of it, after all.”

“ How d’ye like it up to the ’cademy ?” asked George,
as they tossed down the hay to the horses.

“Pretty well,” said Jimmy. “ At least I shall like it
when I get fairly started, I guess.”

Mr. Warren drove up to the house before their work
was done, and called Jimmy to take Miss Ruth out to

: E2



68 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

spend the evening with a friend a few milesaway. Jimmy
loved driving, and he loved to do anything for Miss Ruth,
and so did every one else about the premises; only it
seemed, for some reason that Miss Ruth found fifty ways
of helping and pleasing others, while they seldom could
tind out any need of hers.

The family where she was going were plain, old-
fashioned Quakers, and had been early friends and neigh-
bours of the Warrens, in Pennsylvania. One daughter
had married and died in New York, and her only child, a
pretty girl of fourteen, spent nearly half her time with her
grandparents, in Ohio.

Old Mrs. Harmon greeted Miss Ruth and Jimmy with
the same quiet, cordial tones, and took them both into the
same great sitting-room, with its plain, neat furniture, and
great, open fire that filled the low walls with a warm glow.
Jimmy found two of his schoolmates here; one an odd-
looking boy, a little younger than himself, dressed in a
complete suit of drab of the clumsiest make, and with his
thick, black hair cut squarely around his head.

“James,” said Mrs. Harmon, “ this is Hezekiah Benson.
Thee remembers his mother, Ruth. She was Mary Read
—a worthy woman, but the Lord has afHicted her sorely.
Hezekiah is a good lad, and means to take care of Mary,
some day.

The good woman nodded approvingly at the homely
boy, anid sat down again to her knitting ; and Jimmy looked
at him with a sudden feeling of envy—it seemed to him
it must be so pleasant to do something for one’s mother,



SCHOOLING. 69

and to look forward to being able to support her, by and
by.

Mrs. Harmon’s grandchild, Nelly Curtis, was also there
and Jimmy recognised her as one of the girls whose face
had attracted his attention at the academy. He remem-
bered the remarks one of the group had made, and felt a
little uncomfortable at first, but Nelly was bent upon
setting him at his ease, and the three were soon deep in
the study of a new historical game which Nelly had
brought with her from New York. Miss Ruth left her
corner to join them; and if Jimmy had felt disposed to
exult over George that evening, he was soon put to con-
fasion by finding that the homely little Hezekiah was
thoroughly acquainted with events and characters of which
he-had not even heard.

Jimmy blundered on for a while, and then, when
Hezekiah said, innocently, as if half ashamed of prompting
him,

“Why, the Magna Charta, thee knows; King John had
to grant it to the English to save his crown.”

“No, I don’t know,” said Jimmy, frankly. “I don’t
know much about any history but our own, and only a
little about that.”

Hezekiah blushed up to his eyes, and said, in a tone of
apology,

“Tm sure it’s no matter; thee knows a great deal
more than I do, only I learned to read in a book of
English history, and that’s how I happen to know. Nelly
can tell thee I’m a real stupid in grammar.”



70 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“He isn’t a stupid in anything,” said Nelly, with a .
bright smile; “ only I don’t think he takes to grammar
naturally. I never could make him really see the differ-
ence between active and passive.”

“T should like to know what I learned to read in,”
said Jimmy. “TI believe I must have picked it up a little
at a time for several years. I know I never was set at it
regularly, till I went to evening school at the Newsboys’
Home.”

“Where was that? ” asked Nelly.

“In New York—I was a newsboy there.”

“Were yoo? Why, I live there myself,” said Nelly ;
“‘T mean, papa lives there, and I stay half the time with
him, and the rest with grandmother. He’s away this
winter, but I generally come here in summer.”

“TJ shouldn’t think you’d ever want to go back,” said
Miss Ruth; “only, of course, you want to see your father.”

“T don’t know,” said Nelly; “somehow I like New
York. There’s so much stir and bustle. Everybody seems
so busy, and out here they don’t do very much. I don’t
like to work so very well myself, but I like to bein the
whirl, when other people do.”

“Thee isn’t an idle child, Ellen,” said Mrs. Harmon,
affectionately.

“ Not with. thee, grandmother; but when at home I’m
afraid Iam. Grandmother looks out for me, though,” she
said to Miss Ruth; “she writes me splendid letters, and
sends me nice, little illuminated cards to put in my books
and fasten up in my room. I carried onein my French



SOHOOLING. 71

Reader for six months,—you know I hate French,—but I
finally lost it in the street.”

“Did it say ‘The hand of the diligent maketh rich’ ?”
asked Jimmy, eagerly.

“That was the very one,” said Nellie, wonderingly.

“ How should you know anything about it?”
“You lost it getting into an omnibus,” he went on; “I
saw you drop it, and I picked it up. I was sweeping the
crossing. I’ve got it now, at home. You don’t know how
much it has helped me.”

“How strange,” said Nelly, after a moment of silent
astonishment; but her grandmother repeated in her clear,
low voice—

“A man’s heart deviseth his way; but the Lord
directeth his steps.”

This strange little incident inspired all with a new
interest in Jimmy ; and when he left them, Mrs. Harmon
gave him a most cordial invitation to visit them often.





CHAPTER VII.
NEW PLANS.
\ X J must now pass over several years of Jimmy’s life,

and look at him again when he is eighteen years
old. We shall find him still at Mr. Warren’s, where he
has come to séem so much like one of the family, that they
would almost as soon think of sending away the dear old
grandmother herself, as “ Our James.” He is a strong,
well-built lad, not very tall but active and sinewy, and with’
the same keen eye and intelligent face which first attracted
Miss Fielding’s attention when he stood by the crossing in
New York.

George, the man that Jimmy found on the farm when

he came, is married, and Jimmy has taken his place as
- Superintendent of the farm in Shelby; and, in spite of his
youth, Mr. Warren declares the farm was never so well
managed. Nobody laughs at Mr. Warren’s “hired boy ”
now, for he is gentlemanly and well-informed, and has no
need to feel ashamed in the presence of any of his young
companions.

One evening he received a letter from his friend
George, very awkwardly written and badly spelled, but
full of kindly interest in him and his plans. The principal
item, however, was a matter of business :

“Sairy and me send our respects to Mr. Warren; and



NEW PLANS. 73

tell him if he has any loose cash to invest, which is sure to
bring good profits, my advice goes for to put it into a
sheep farmup here. It’s land that jines me on the east and
‘jest the prettiest bit in all the country; nice creek run-
ning acrost it; timber and all handy. There’s a dre’dful
sickly chap been foolin’ along with it for a spell, but he’s
about done up with the shakes and the rheumatiz, and
he’d jump at a chance to sell, ef he wa’n’t too shif’less to
jump at anything. He ain’t half so much ’count as his
sheep; they can jump, you may be sure—don’t a soul of
em know what a fence is for. I only wish’t I had money
to buy the farm myself, only I couldn’t run two farms.”

Then followed a description of the farm, giving its size
and exact location. Jimmy read the letter and handed it
to Mr. Warren, half smiling at the idea that he should buy
a farm so far away. Mr. Warren, read it all through,
attentively, laughing heartily at the message to his wife:
“make my respects to Mrs. Warren, and tell her my Sairy
can make apple dumplin’s to beat any livin’ woman ’cept
Miss Ruth.”

“Bring me the atlas, James,” said Mr. Warren, slowly
folding the letter.

The atlas was brought, and the wonderful sheep farm
traced out on the map of Iowa.

“Tt must be about here,” said Mr. Warren. “ George’s
farm lies on this creek; here’s his post-office town ; and
the farm is east of him. It’s a fine location. This rail-
road will come through there, somewhere, in few years.”

Jimmy went back to his book, and Mr. Warren at



74 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

silently watching the fire that glowed and sparkled in the
grate. He said no more about the farm for several days.
But one morning, when Jimmy was out in the garden.
laying down some choice grape-vines to protect them
through the winter, Mr. Warren came out and stood by
him, as if watching the operation.

“Tf Lester comes for those colts,” he said presently,
“you can let him have them. I’m going away for a few
days.”

“ Yes, Sir,” said Jimmy.

“T’m going to Iowa. The fact is, I can’t quite get that
farm out of my mind, and I’m going to see it. If I find
it as George says, I shall buy it.”

Jimmy stopped his work to straighten up, and looked
Mr. Warren in the face with a puzzled expression. lt
seemed to him a strange investment of money, but he did
not feel as if is would be respectful to express his opinion.

“You don’t understand it exactly,’ said Mr. Warren,
smiling, but looking troubled after all. ‘ Well, James, I
mean to give you a fair chance in the world, and I can’t
do what I’d like for you here. My boys are growing up,
and I must let them take matters here in hand, pretty
soon, IfI buy that Iowa farm, I shall want to put you
on it.”

“Me!” exclaimed Jimmy, in a bewildered way.

“Yes. I’m sure you could manage it. “I'll stock it

or you, and you may farm it on shares till you get able to
buy it, and then you may have it for just what it costs me
now.”



NEW PLANS. 75

Mr. Warren paused, and Jimmy thought he must be
dreaming, he felt so strangely bewildered.

“ Of course I shall miss you here; you've been a good,
faithful boy to me, Jimmy, and I’ve always been glad that
you and I were brought together.”

Jimmy tried to say how thankful he felt for all the
kindness he had met with in the family, but the words
seemed to mix up strangely in his throat, and presently he
broke down altogether.

“Well, well,” said Mr. Warren, shaking his hand
heartily, ‘‘ we won’t say anything more about this until I
come back. MaybeI shan’t like the farm well enough to
buy it, after all.”

While Mr. Warren was away, Jimmy went about the
farm in a kind of feverish excitement. He had never
realised before, how strong was his interest in everything,
and how hard it would be to part with the very least
of them. But then to go to that wonderful western
country; to be an independent farmer, managing his
own business, and by and by actually owning one of those
splendid farms! It seemed almost too bright a dream to
come true.

“T won’t think so much about it; for, after all, Mr.
Warren may not buy it. But then George is a good judge
of farms, and he knows just what Mr. Warren likes. If
he does buy it, I’ll show him that he hasn’t taken so much
pains with me for nothing.”

Half an hour before the train came in, on the evening
that Mr. Warren was expected home, Jimmy hitched the



76 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

grey horses behind the station, and walked restlessly up
and down the platform.

Mr. Warren greeted him heartily, and asked a great
many questions about home, as they drove along; but
neither of them said a word about the farm. But as they
rode silently into the yard, watching once more the cheer-
ful light shining far out from the windows, Mr. Warren
said, briefly,

“Well, James, it’s all settled. I’ve bought the farm.”

Jimmy’s heart gave one quick bound, and then for a
few moments he felt almost sad, as if he were already
bidding good-bye to what was dearest. As he put away
the horses, Miss Ruth’s favourite chestnut, Prince Charley,
put his head ont of his stall with a neigh of recognition.
Jimmy stopped to stroke his glossy neck, and could not
help saying,

“Good-bye, old Charley; you and I were rough colts
together, five years ago. I wonder if my training has done
as much for me as yours has for you.”

It was plain enough that all the family knew that
Jimmy was to leave them, though for a few days no one
said much about it. Arthur, the oldest boy, was the first
to speak of it in the family circle:

“T shall be the farmer now,” he said, proudly, as they
sat around the fire one evening. “I’m most as old as
Jimmy was when he came here first.”

“O, Jimmy!” said little Alice, “I’m making you two
pincushions, one to carry in your pocket, and one to put
in your room; and when we go the store, Aunt Ruth is



NEW PLANS. 77

going to get me some beads to make a watch-case, like
papa’s. O,I forgot! that’s a secret; but you won’t tell
anybody, will you, Jimmy ?”

Aunt Ruth looked a little bit annoyed, but the laugh
that followed helped to pass it all off; and then they all
began to discuss what they should do when Jimmy was
gone, and what Jimmy would do away from them.

“You'll board with George for the first year,” said
Mr. Warren. “ After that, you may be able to get a man
and his wife to go into the house, and help you on the
farm. I depend a great deal on your having George to
advise you. He has good sound common sense, and under-
stands farming thoroughly.”

“And Sairy can make such apple dumplin’s,” said
Arthur, roguishly ; ‘ couldn’t you manage to express a few
to me?”

“T’m learnin’ to make dumplin’s, my own self,” said
Alice. “I peeled the apples the last time, and some time,
when I know everything, P’ll come myself, and keep house
for you, Jimmy.”

‘“‘And you can have a little crooked pole, and sit out in
the fields watching the sheep, like the shepberdess in my
picture,” said Frank.

The long evenings of that winter seemed fairly to fly
away. Almost every one of the family had some work on
hand which was to add to Jimmy’s comfort or pleasure on
the far-away farm—“ Jimmy’s farm,” as they all called it.
The pretty watch-case was secretly finished, but it made
its appearance one new year’s day to hold a good, sub-



73 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

stantial silver watch, which Miss Ruth bought as a present
for Jimmy. As for Jimmy himself, his evenings were
nearly all spent in studying practical books on the manage-
ment of stock, and talking with Mr. Warren, whose own

experience was invaluable to him.























CHAPTER VIII.
_ LEAVING HOME.

aoe journey to Iowa was a great event in his
history. When he started alone from New York in
search of his fortune, he was only like a bit of drift-wood,
tossed about on the water, not knowing at all where it
might carry him, or whether it would land him in a pleasant
harbour or on a Cesert island. But now he went out like a
strong ship, with a cargo carefully stored, anda steady
hand at the helm. On this great ocean of life, no one can
know but that storm and shipwreck await him ; but Jimmy
meant to meet whatever came, with a resolute heart, and
trust in God to guide him safely through.

Asthe train went rushing away through the darkness, for
he started at evening, hecould not help thinking of that other
journey, and contrasting it with this one. Then he
carried all his worldly possessions in the little tin trunk in
his hand. Now he remembered the well-filled trunk in the
baggage car, which loving hands had packed so carefully,
and where every one, from the dear old grandmother to
the baby Carrie, had put something which was to remind
him pleasantly of the home he had left. By his side was
the satchel, where Mrs. Warren had stored an abundant
lunch, and in one corner a little bundle of cakes which



80 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

Alice had put in, with the charge to give them to all. the
poor children he saw.

““There’s no one here to eat them,” he thought, as he
glanced through the handsome car at the various groups
that filled it.

On and on rattled the train, and the tired passengers
settled themselves as comfortably as possible for the long
night ride, for there were no sleeping cars on the train.
At first Jimmy did not feel at all disposed to sleep;
he had too many new.and strange things to think
about. By-and-by, however, he began to doze and dream
of his new home in Iowa, and the old one he had just
left.

When the uncertain light of the early morning began
to rouse the passengers, they were all hurried out of the
train by the order to change cars. Jimmy took up his
satchel, and was just passing out, when he noticed a poor
woman who was trying to make her way through the
crowd, with one little child in her arms, and another
clinging to her dress, while she was loaded down with
bags and baskets.

“Let me help you,” he said, kindly, taking one of her
baskets, and lifting the little, struggling child out of the
crowd that half crushed it.

The mother thanked him gratefully, and he left them
in the sitting-room of the depét to wait for their train,
while be hastened to find his own, which was rapidly
filling. There was no lack of children in this day’s ride,
and Alice’s paper of cakes was in great demand.



LEAVING HOME. 1

“Black your boots, Mister!” called the ragged little
urchins, as they crowded around the passengers at every
change of cars.

“How queer it seems,” thought Jimmy, smiling, to
himself. “TI suppose I used to look just so. I should like
to know just how Mr. Warren felt, when I was blacking
his boots. I mean to try it.”

There were fifteen minutes to spare, so Jimmy put his
foot on the block of a keen-looking little fellow, who was
loud in his offers to every one who looked at him, to “ black
your boots for a dime, Mister!”

The boy went to work with a will, and Jimmy looked
down at him, curiously.

George was waiting for him at the depédt, when he
reached his journey’s end. He gave hima hearty welcome,
eyeing him from head to foot, with a look of the greatest
satisfaction.

“Td have known you anywheres,” he declared at last;
“but I must say you’ve shot up amazin’ since I first set eyes
on you. I’ve thought abont it often and often—that first
night you come out with Mr. Warren. You had a kind of
wild look out of your eyes, like a colt that ain’t broke in;
I always liked that look in a boy or a critter; just handle
’em right and they come out tip top.”

It was a long ride out to the farm, but George had a
great deal to tell of his plans for himself and for Jimmy,
and the time passed away quickly enough. There was the
route of the new railroad to point out; the place where the
steam saw-mill was to be bnilt; and all the other improve-

F



&2 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

ments which were to make of Iowa a very garden of
beauty and delight.

““There’s your farm,” he said, at last. “It skirts
along by that strip of timber, and comes down to where
you see the smoke over that little hammock. That’s the
smoke of my chimney, and Sairy’s there by the winder
watchin’ for us, I’llbe bound. She’sa stunner of a woman,
Sairy is.”

George cracked his whip with complete satisfaction,
but Jimmy was too much engaged in examining his farm
to care much what kind of a womana “ stunner ” might be.
There it lay, only a mile or so off—his farm—the mire
in which his fortune lay. He decided in a minute that
he had seen no such land as that in all his journey from
Ohio.

“ The house is right over there,” said George, following
Jimmy’s eyes, ‘‘ but there ain’t any smoke to mark it, and
it’s getting dusk. ‘The folks moved away last week—went
back to Varmount, or somewhere thereabonts, and they'll
disoust all their relations, tellin’ them what a mis’able
country it is up west. I'd like to see a country where
such shif’less, no account trash could make a livin’, unless
cattle growed on thorn bushes, and crops come up all
ready for eatin’. Tell you what, Jimmy, I don’t make
any doubt it was a bad thing that Adam got druv out of
the Garden, but somehow it never seemed to me I should
relish havin’ everything fixed up and sweetened ready to
my hand. I believe the Lord must have meaut us to get
some good out of the curse, after all, for there’s nothing




















































































































































































































































































































































LEAVING HOME. 85

ever made me feel better than right-down, solid, hard
work. Makes a man feel kind of honourable as if he had a
right to what he ate.”

George’s home was a plain, substantial farmhouse,
not yet completed, but built after a western fashion, while
timber, ready for building, was dear and scarcely to be
obtained. They had finished offa large wing, containing
the kitchen and two chambers, and the rest of the house
was waiting for the money to grow out of the fertile
ground, in the shape of abundant harvests. “Sairy”” was
ready for them, with a plentiful supper, which justified her
husband’s pride in her housekeeping skill ; and after along
talk over all that had happened in the old home in Ohio,
Jimmy was shown to the great, bare chamber, which was
to be his for the next year.

Jimmy unlocked his trunk and began to unpack it.
There were books, old friends and new ones—and he filled
the great, empty mantle-piece with a substantial row of
them. There was the pretty watch-case, wrought by Alice’s
loving little hands; and he looked at the smooth, white
walls, in some doubt whether the model housekeeper would
allow of any nails being driven into them. There was the
noisy little alarm clock, that had ticked off so many hours
for him ; he would make a pretty shelf for that: and the
beautiful engraving of the “ Valley of Peace” he would
fasten to the wall on the morrow.

Little Carrie had insisted upon giving him her own
china mug, with its painted roses encircling the motto,
“ For a good girl.”



86 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“Ttll make a nice shaving mug, you know, Jimmy,”
suggested Arthur, mischievously.

“It won’t look so bad, after all,” thought Jimmy,
surveying the room, when he had scattered his pretty keep-
sakes over it. He had alarge card, beautifully illuminated.
in his hand, bearing the familiar words,

“ The hand of the diligent maketh rich.”

“Not slothful im business; fervent in spirit; serving the
Lord!”

Good old. Mrs. Harmon had given it to him as her
parting gift.

“Thee must hang it up in thy new home, friend James,”
she said, “‘ where thee can see it every day.”

“Tl put it right here for to-night,” thought Jimmy,
hanging it on one of the high posts of the bed, “ then I
shall see it as soon as I wake.”

That first verse always carried Jimmy straight back to
the old days when he first spelled out the wonderfu!}
promise on the muddy crossing in New York, and he
never could wonder enough at the strange ways by which
he had been led.

“T have been led, I am sure of that,’ he reflected ;
“just as sure as if I could see the Hand that has led me.
Nothing ever happened by chance to me, but the Lord has
guided me just exactly as Mr. Walters said He would—
just as I believe He guides everybody that wants Him to
do it.”

The new verse came to him like acommand and an en-
couragement from the great unseen Leader whose voice he



LEAVING HOME. 87

followed. He saw, as he had never seen before, how one
might. truly serve the Lord by doing faithfully and diligently
the daily work of life to which he was called, and living a
humble, earnest, unselfish life, wherever he might be
placed.

“‘T can do that for His service—any one can do that,”’
he thought; and then, thinking of the old and the new, of
the days that had been and of those that might be, he felt
asleep.





CHAPTER IX.
MISSIONARY WORK.

IMMY had been in Iowa about two weeks. With the
help of a stout man, he had been very busy, repairing
fences and putting the barns in order, adding to one of them
a long shed for the sheep, which had been accustomed to
huddle around the great straw stacks, with no shelter
from the severest storms. The shed wasa rude affair, and
didn’t at all suit Jimmy, but carpenters were not to be
hired, and George assured him it would do very well.

“*Twon’t do to put old Fowler’s sheep into too good
quarters all to onct; they’d die of astonishment, mosi
likely ; they’re used to keepin’ warm by exercisin’.”’

One morning, when Jimmy went over to the house, he
was surprised to see the smoke issuing from the kitchen
chimney. He looked in at the window, and saw a ragged
little boy, about fourteen years old, sitting on the floor
among some old clothes, eating his breakfast, and warming
himself by the fire that he had kindled in the old cooking
stove. Jimmy watched him a minute, and then took the
key from his pocket and quietly opened the door. The
boy looked up at him without showing any astonishment,
but gave him a familiar nod, and said,

“ Mornin’, boss.”’



MISSIONARY WORK. 89

“Good morning,” said Jimmy, not knowing exactly
what to say. ‘

“ Staid out pretty late, last night, didn’t you ?”’ said the
boy ; ‘‘didn’t seem to be anybody to home when Icameby last
night, so I jest histed a winder and stepped in, and made
myself comf’table.”’

“Where are you going?” asked Jimmy.

““Nowheres in partic’lar; I’m lookin’ for a place to
locate. Istopped a while with a feller down the river a
piece, but we had a fallin’ out, and I left. Want to hire a
hand?”

“For what?” asked Jimmy, a good deal amused.
“What can youdo? Do you know anything about farm
work P”

‘Well, no,’’ said the boy, eyeing him from head to foot.
“T can’t really say as I’m quite posted, but ’taint no great
things to learn. I reckon I can get the hang of a sheep
pretty quick.”

‘Where do you live?” asked Jimmy.

“ Anywheres at all; just where I kin find a place.”

“But where did you come from, last night, and where
were you going to?”

“Trav’lin’, boss, trav’lin’.” Then giving Jimmy a
sharp look, he added, “ You needn’t be so partic’lar “bout
knowin’ ; there ain’t no reward offered for me. [ll be
bound they was glad to get ridof me.”

“He's run away from somewhere,” thought Jimmy.
“T wish I could do something for him, but I don’t see
how.”



90 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

’

“Pll work for my vittles and clothes,” said the boy,
who seemed to read Jimmy’s thoughts in his face.

“T’ve a great mind to try you; but then there’s no
place for you to sleep; Sarah wouldn’t have you at ihe
house, I know.”’

“Never mind Sairy,” said the boy, saucily; “I'll sleep
in the barn.”

“‘ Well, come out of here now; I don’t want my house
burned up; I'll talk to George about it.”

The boy gathered up his bundle of rags, and followed
Jimmy, whistling merrily.

George was at work near by, and Jimmy went straight
to find him.

“George,” he began, “ didn’t you say a stout boy of
fourteen or fifteen was just the extra help we needed
now?”

“Exactly,” said George ; “ but I know every farmer for
twenty mile around, and there ain’t such an article to be
had.”

“Tve got a boy out here; I don’t feel sure that he'll
do, but if we could try him—~” said Jimmy, hesitating.

George looked up in astonishment, and then laid down
his shovel and walked afew steps to where the boy was
leaning over the fence.

“How are ye, old chap?” said the boy.

George took no notice of his question, but looked him
steadily in the face.

“You’re a runaway,” he said, presently. “I saw you
up at Mr, Nettleton’s, a couple of weeks ago ”



MISSIONARY WORK. 91

“ Better send him along,” said George to Jimmy.

“ What kind ofa manis Mr. Nettleton? ” asked Jimmy.

“ He’s a hard old skinflint—a regular miser.” -

“See here,” said the boy, more civilly, “you might
give a feller a chance. I come outo’ jail, when the old
man up yonder took me, and I’da heap sooner be locked up
agin’ than to live with him. Hard work, and cuffs, aud
nothin’ decent to eat.”

“That’s so,” said George, musingly; I staid there
once to dinner. Ifmy Sairy was such a mean cook, |
believe I’d run away too.”

“T should like to try him, if you think it’ll do,” said
Jimmy. ‘You see, George, I can’t help remembering how
much has been done for me, and how people were kind to
me when I was no better than he is.”

“You never was such a little villain as that, I’ll be
bound for you,” said George, indignantly. “But if he’ll
sleep in the barn, I reckon Sairy’ll give him his meals.
It’s most April now, and he’ll do comfortable enough on
the hay witha blanket or two.”

So Jimmy agreed with the boy that he was to havea
fair trial, and if he did well, was to receive regular wage-,
—whatever he could fairly earn. He seemed well pleased
with the arrangement, and took up his quarters in the barn
with a great deal of satisfaction.

George and Sarah watched him with much distrust, and
even Jimmy felt that he could not quite trust him; but he
seemed to learn the ways of the farm readily, and Jimmy
spent a great deal of time in teaching him to read and



92 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

write, and trying to train him to respectability. He said
over and over, to himself, when he was almost discouraged,
‘“‘He’s no worse than I was—they all had patience with
me, and the Lord cares for him just the same as He does
for any one else.” Yet, in spite of all, he could not help
feeling that the boy was not like him, and that he did not
honestly wish to do right and be a good, true man in the
world

‘“‘There’s another of my chickens gone,” said Sarah, as
she opened her poultry house one morning. “It does
beat all. I don’t see how anything can catch ’em without
getting into that trap.”

Jimmy said nothing, but he went out and examined the
house. For several weeks the chickens had been dis-
appearing, and all the traps they could set failed to catch
the thief. That night there had been a light rain, and
Jimmy thought he saw the prints of bare feet around the
chicken house, but he could not be quite confident.

“Mighty queer ’bout them chickens, ain’t it?” said
the boy whom he had hired, coming up and peeping into
the coop.

“Not very,” said Jimmy, giving him a keen look; “I
think I understand about it pretty well.”

Jo tossed his hoe over his shoulder and went out to his
work, Jimmy set a simple trap by the door of the
chicken coop, but did not trouble himself to watch it for a
day or two. But there was one thing he did watch, and
that was Jo; and when he began to see some mysterious
movements on his part, he paid a visit to his sleeping room



MISSIONARY WORK. 93

in the hay, and found a quantity of fishing lines and hooks,
and a tin box of matches, carefully hidden away.

“QO ho! my fine fellow,’ said Jimmy, “you'll be
burning us all up, some of these nights.”

He took out his knife and shaved off the ends of the
matches carefully and smoothly, and then put them hack
in their hiding-place.

That night Jo declared he was ‘‘clear beat out,’ and
crawled away to his nest earlier than usual. Jimmy went
to his room, too, but as soon as the family were in bed he
took up his watch at the little back window, which looked
towards the barn. By and by a dusky figure came slowly
out from the stable door, and took its way towards the
chicken house.

“ Just as I expected,” said Jimmy, nodding to himself;
“that’s Jo—and I shall have to let him get another
chicken before I can trap him.”

He crept down the stairs just in time to see him reach
his arm into the chicken house, and grasp a chicken so
adroitly that it had only time for a short, half-smothered
cry, that hardly disturbed its mates at all. When the
chicken was secured, Master Jo gathered up several
other articles from the barn, and started across the corn-
field.

“ He’s going to the river to fish,” thought Jimmy. “I
wonder if he can have any companions.”’

Watching him a moment to make sure of his course, he
went quietly back and awakened George, by a rap at his
window.



94 TNE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

““Y’ve got track of the thief,” he whispered; “dress
yourself as quick as you can, and come out.”’

George came out in a moment.

“Hark!” said George, ‘that’s Jo’s whistle, up among
the brush; I’ve heard him call the cows that way. Why
don’t he light up, I wonder?”

SSE don’t believe his matches work first ete said
Jimmy. “I fixed ’em for him.”

Presently they saw Jo come down from the brush
and join a boy with a lantern, and the two moved rapidly
on toward the river, where some boys were already
fishing.

As soon as they were busy at their sport, (Geoige and
Jimmy crept nearer, and soon learned all about the
mysterious disappearance of the chickens. The boys were
from a small settlement up the river, and had been in the
habit of coming down there to fish every few days, stealing
chickens wherever they could lay their hands on them,
and broiling them for a midnight feast. They seemed to
have very good success at their fishing, but Jimmy could
hardly persuade George to keep still till they were ready
to light their fire.

The boys presently came up into a little sheltered
hollow, and lighted their fire. Jimmy could hardly help
laughing, to see Jo try match after match from his box,
until he finally threw them down in disgust. Then he
produced the chicken, and began to strip off the feathers.

The roasting and broiling went on finely, and the
savoury odour of the chicken began to reack the watchers,




















































MISSIONARY WORK. 97

“Smells nice, don’t it?” said George. “I'll be pourd
they sha’n’t get a bite of it.”

After a moment of consultation, the two rushed foward
with a shout that would have done credit to a couple of
Indians. George made directly for Jo, and held him to
the ground with his great foot. The others came to
quarter at once, and made no attempt to get away. They
were made to tell their names, and pretty severely
threatened, and then allowed to depart; but George
brought Jo to his feet with a vigorous shake, and began to
march him toward home. At first the boy pretended to
feel quite jolly over it, begging Jimmy to go back for that
prime topknot, and not leave it for the skunks to eat, after
all the trouble he had taken with it. “Jest done to a
turn,” he added, with a sly glance at George.

“T’ll do you to a turn,” said George, with a jerk at his
collar; “Tl teach you to steal topknots.”

When they reached home George marched his prisoner
to the barn.

“What are you going to do?” asked Jimmy.

“Goin’ to take my pay for the topknot, and all the
rest of my chickens the little vagabond has stole. Goin’
to give him the worst whippin’ he ever got in his
life.”

“Pitch in, old feller,” said the boy, with a grin.

“Do you think that’s the best thing to do?” asked
Jimmy, anxiously.

“T know ’tis,” said George, confidently ; “anyhow I’m
goin’ to try it. “T'won’t do me any good to send the little

G



98 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

sneak to jail, and I'll be bound he’ll be far enough away
before morning.”

Jimmy felt very much like going away, but on the
whole he felt bound to see the matter fairly through; and

‘in his secret heart he could not help a little feeling of
respect for the unconcern with which Jo took his whipping.
It seemed a pity not to turn so much endurance to good
account,

“There,” said George, taking up his gun and coat,
“T’ve settled my account with you, and now you can take
yourself where you please.”

“He'll set your barn on fire before morning, like as
any way,” said. Jimmy.

“That’s so,” said George; “might lock him up in the
smoke-house.”

“Tl take him up to my room,” said Jimmy. And
without another word he bade Jo bring his blankets from
the hay, and come with him. Jo obeyed in silent wonder.

“Now then,” said Jimmy, as he turned the key in the
door, “T’ll fix you a bed in this corner, and you can rest
comfortably till morning. You must be very sore and
tired, and you'll have to go early in the morning.”

Jo looked on while Jimmy arranged his bed as well as
he could on the floor, and then sat down upon it and began
to look around the room and watch Jimmy.

“Vm lame enough,” he said, at last, throwing off the
thin coat which Jimmy had given him only a few days
before,

“Yes,” said Jimmy, “and it’s a pity you should begin



MISSIONARY WORK. 99

a wandering life again. I really thought you were going
to do something for yourself. I’m sorry for you, Jo.”

“T don’t see why you care,” said Jo, leaning his elbows
on his knees, and looking earnestly at Jimmy; “’tain’t
nothin’ to you what becomes of me.”

“O yes, it is; it’s something to everybody,” began
Jimmy, then stopped, feeling that the boy couldn’t under-
stand that. ‘Ido care what becomes of you. I’ve tried
hard to help you and make you want to be a good boy. I
remember that if somebody hadn’t done this for me, I
shouldn’t have been any better than you are, and I’m sorry
for you, Jo.”

Jo rolled up his sleeve and began to examine the red
marks George had left on his arm.

“You can have me locked up, you and the other feller,”
he said, at last.

“But we don’t want to. If I thought you were really
sorry, Jo, and would be an honest boy, I’d try you again.
I mean if I cowld, though George wouldn’t have you here,
I'm afraid.”

“No more J wouldn’t stay. I’m obliged to ye; but
you're the first feller that ever cared what become of
me.”

The boy looked at Jimmy as if greatly puzzled to
account for his interest.

“This ’ere’s a mighty nice room,” he said, examining
it; “your father buy you them picters and things?”

“T haven’t any father or mother; they died before I can

remember.”
G2



Full Text


) alee )


The Baldwin Library

University
RnB
Florida


| igre,”

Shea! (902.

VL Vee Ce




“HM WAS SO ATTENTIVE AND OBLIGING, THAT HE WAS SOON A FAVOURITE
ON THE TRAIN.”

See page 48,
Ropal H oad ta Riches,

BY

EH. C. MILLER.

London : :
CHARLES H. KELLY,
2, CASTLE STREET, CITY ROAD, E.C.

1897.
HARMER AND HARLEY,
PRINTERS,
89 TO 44, COWPER 8TREET, FINSBURY,

E.a,
STARTING

A HELPING HAND
Gone WEST
Loss AND GAIN
Progress
senoorite

New bone
TrviNe Home
Missionary Work
Davie

OLD FRIENDS

Success 5 6

CONTENTS.

—0}@200—_

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.

CHAPTER XII.

PAGE.

24
38
49

61

88

102

» Lit

130
THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

Oo:





CHAPTER I.
STARTING.

L was beginning to grow light, on a fogey November
morning, when Farmer Norton drove into the city with
his great covered market wagon. In the wagon were
baskets of eggs nicely packed in oats, bags of juicy pippins
and rusty-coated potatoes, and, curled up on a blanket
among them, was a little brown-faced boy, about ten years
old.

As Farmer Norton reined up his horses at the market-
house, he turned round and gave the little fellow a shake.

“Come, my lad,” he said, cheerily, “here we are at last,
though it goes against my conscience to think I’ve brought
you here. But if you want to go back to-night, you just
come up here about four o’clock, and I'll take you out and
welcome.”

The boy crawled out of the wagon, took the apple
and gingerbread which the farmer gave him from his own
dinner, and went slowly down the street, eating them, and
looking about him.

Nobody knew very much about Jimmy Marvin.
When he was only six years old, he was brought to Wood-
8 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

ville by a queer old man, who used to go round the
country selling liniment and essences. The old man never
gave any account of him, and Jimmy could not remember
that he ever had any father or mother; so he went with
the old man on his peddling excursions, or lived with him
in his little shanty when he came back to the village, till,
by and by, the old man died, and the little waif was turned
adrift again. Father Pettibone took him for a while, but
he couldn’t make anything out of him; and then the
Widow Graves tried him for an errand-boy, but she
declared he was “ fuller of mischief than an egg was of
meat.” So Jimmy went from hand to hand, growing all
the time more ragged, until Farmer Norton yielded to his
earnest request, and promised to take him with him to the
city. Good Mrs. Norton fitted him up with a comfortable
suit of clothes from the outgrown garments her great boys
had left behind them, and sent him away with a world of
misgivings.

“Tf he only wasn’t so unsettled,” she said to her
husband, “seems as if we might make something of him;
but he never was set to anything steady, and he ain’t fit
for anything but roving about.”

“T don’t know, Mother,” said Farmer Norton; “I ain’t
sure but Jimmy’ll come to something yet. He’s got some
good pints in him, and he’ll pick up a livin’ as naterally as
a blackbird, if he’s only let alone; but it ain’t in him to
take to civilized ways.”

Mrs. Norton shook her head, but she stood «n the step
and watched them drive away, and couldn’t help feeling,
STARTING. 9

after all, a little as if she hadn’t quite done her duty in
letting the little wanderer.go.

“TI hope the Lord ’ll take care of him,” she said, as she
hurried away to call up the girls to milk the cows; and in
her busy day of work she soon forgot all about him.

When evening came, Farmer Norton lingered a little
around the deserted market-place, secretly hoping Jimmy
would make his appearance ; and after he started off, he
looked back into the wagon to see if after all he might
not be coiled up there. But no Jimmy was there, and so
Farmer Norton tried to forget him, and the great town
swallowed him up as the ocean swallows a bubble, and
nobody caied anything about it.

Another foggy morning, early in April, found a ragged
little boy, with an old broom, sweeping a muddy crossing
in one of the streets. Jimmy Marvin had gone into
business. It had been a frosty night, and the mud was a
little stiff yet, and Jimmy worked slowly until he saw a
lady coming down the street. She would step over his
crossing, he knew, for she came every day, rain or shine,
and he hurried to give her a clean track. He always did
that, and she paid him oftener in smiles than pennies; but
somehow Jimmy felt richer for them than he did for other
folks’ money. Jimmy had made a shrewd guess that
pennies were not very plentiful in her pocket. This
morning, however, she had a penny for him; and as she
put it in his hand she said,—

“You and I begin our work in better season than most
people, don’t we?”
10 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“Do you work?” asked Jimmy.

“To be sure I do,” said the lady. “I work at setting
type in a great publishing house. It isn’t very pleasant
work, shut up all day in the hot, close air. I don’t know
but I shall get me a broom and sweep crossings when I
am rich enough to afford it.”

The lady passed on with a merry laugh, and Jimmy
rested on his broom a moment and looked after her.

“ She’s one of em!” he said, decidedly, as he put the
penny carefully away ; and from the tone of his voice, it.
was very plain that to be “one of ’em” meant something
very complimentary.

Sweep, sweep! the omnibuses began to rattle, the
grocers’ waggons to dash by, and soon the great town had
fairly entered upon its day’s work. The mud flowed in a
black river through the street, and it kept Jimmy’s arm
busy to clear it from the crossing. The one penny soon
had company in his pocket; but so many people seemed
to think that Jimmy swept the crossing for his own
amusement, amd only gave him a scowl in pay, that he
almost concluded it was avery poor business. Presently
came a little girl, with two or three books under her arm,
and stopped at the crossing to hail an omnibus. She set
her pretty foot daintily into the muddy street, and sprang
like a bird upon the step of the omnibus. One of her
bocks fell from her arm, but she caught it quickly, and, as
the door of the omnibus closed after her, a little white
card fluttered out from the book and dropped upon Jimmy’s
crossing. He picked it up just in time to save it from the
STARTING. ; 11

feet of a dray horse, wiped it on the sleeve of his ragged
jacket, and examined it curiously. Jimmy couldn’t read
very well, but he managed to spell out the words which
were printed on the card :—







THE HAND
OF THE DILIGENT
MAKETH RICH.



He read them very slowly, stopping to spell out the
words, and very nearly giving up on “ diligent.”

“Something *bout gettin’ rich, anyhow,” he said to
himself; ““I can make out that much;” and he put the
card away in his jacket pocket. There it stayed for more
than a week, only once in a while Jimmy would take it
out and study over that puzzling word, until one pleasant
morning his friend from the publishing house came along,
and stopped to give him a smile and a penny again.

“You keep my crossing so nicely for me,’ she said,
“T wish I could contrive some way to keep a pocket full
of pennies all the time. Then I’d give you a whole handful
every morning, Jimmy. Only think how soon you'd get
rich!”
12 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

This made Jimmy think of his card, so he took it from
his pocket, and noticed for the first time how soiled it was.
“There’s something here, Ma’am,” he said; “I can’t
quite make out the sense of it, but it tells about gettin’
rich, and maybe if you’d read it you’d know.”
The lady took the bit of pasteboard, and read, ‘“‘The
hand of the diligent maketh rich.”

‘OQ, is that all?”’ said she, laughing; ‘“‘I was in hopes
you had found some magical charm ; I knew all that long
ago.”

“Then ’tain’t true, is it, Ma’am?” asked Jimmy, a good
deal disappointed.

“True? to be sure it is—just as true as truth itself!
It means that diligent hands—that is, hands that stick
to their work all the time, and do it bravely and faithfully,
just as well as they know how,—are sure to be rewarded
in the end with success. That’s the only way to get
riches that will do you any good ; but sometimes they are
a long time coming—a very long time,” added the lady,
with a weary little sigh ; but presently she smiled again,
cheerily, and said, “ You get your pay in comfort, though,
as you goalong. Never be afraid of work, Jimmy, it’s good
for people, and you’d better keep this card to help you
remember it. It’s trwe, never doubt it.”

Away went the lady up the street, with her quick,
euergetic step, walking all the faster to make up for the
moments she had lost with Jimmy. The next morning,
and the next, the lady picked her way as best she could
over the unswept crossing, wondering what had become
STARTING. 13

of Jimmy. Then a girl with a pinched, hungry face took
possession of the crossing, and the lady gave her the smiles
and the spare pennies, and ceased to wonder about the
little brown-faced boy that had vanished.

Jimmy had changed his business. He had made the
acquaintance of a good-natured boy who was in the rag-
picking line, and his new friend had offered to find him a
situation with the old woman for whom he worked. Down
in the cellar of a horrible den in one of the meanest streets
of the town, they found the old woman, smoking her pipe
while she sorted over the pickings of the day. She had in
her employment a large number of boys and women, each
one of whom had a particular “beat.” Hvery morning they
hunted over all the sweepings from shops and saloons,
ash-heaps, kitchen refuse and garbage of every description,
and the stuff they collected was all taken to old Judy’s
cellar to be assorted. She paid them a stipulated price
per day, while she herself made her gain from the sale of
what they had gathered.

“T’ve brought you a new boy,” said the rag-picker,
introducing Jimmy.

The old woman took her pipe from her mouth, and
looked keenly at Jimmy.

“Ever been on a beat?” she asked.

“No,” said Jimmy, at a venture, not at. all under-
standing what she meant.

“T don’t want greenies, and I wouldn’t have nothin’ to say
to you, only Pat Donahue has just been sent up for stealin’,
and if you’ve a mind to try his beat you may have it.”
14 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

She threw an old bag towards Jimmy, who was looking
curiously about the room, and wondering what could be
the use of half the things collected there. Perhaps my
readers would not have known either that the cotton and
linen rags and the bits of paper go to the paper mills; the
woollen rags, no matter how old and filthy, to people who
buy them to sell again to be ground up and put into very
nice-looking cloth, which comes all to pieces as soon as it
- is put to any wear. Then the trimmings of all kinds of
fruit and vegetables have a market at the very lowest
eating-houses, and so do fresh bones. The old bones go
to the bone factories, to be ground up for the farmers’ use ;
the ends of cigars and even old quids are put to some use
by men who buy them, but we'll leave those interested in
tobacco in its various forms to find out what. Half-burned
cinders are sold for a trifle to the poor; and so I might go
on and tell you of some use to which every trifle you reject
from your plenty can be put.

But we must not forget Jimmy. After a few directions
from old Judy, he started out with the little rag-picker,
who showed him his beat.

“You'll have hard work to suit old Judy on this beat,”
he said. “It’s a good one, but Pat was a sly feller, and
many’s the handkerchief and small bundle he helped out
of somebody’s pocket, and pretended to finding in the
sweepin’s. Judy knowed well enough, but she never let on.”

“TI sha’n’t steal, for her nor nobody else,” said Jimmy.

“No more won’t I,” said his companion ; “they allus
gets jerked up after a while.”
STARTING. 15

Jimmy didn’t much fancy the rag-picking business, but
it paid far better than sweeping crossings: and though old
Judy was liberal with her scoldings, she never failed to
pay him regularly, and even raised his wages at the end
of the first month. Jimmy was getting rich. In the
bosom of his ragged shirt he carried an old stocking foot,
that held a little store of pennies and small coins, which
he had managed to save from his earnings.

One morning, as he was busily exploring a heap of
cinders in the gutter, somebody who was hurrying along
the sidewalk stopped to say,—

“T do believe this must be Jimmy,”

Jimmy looked up in surprise to see his old friend of the
printing-office.

“Do you come down here?” he asked.

Yes, and a good deal farther,” said the lady. “I go
down to W—— street. But have you gone into rag-picking,
Jimmy ?”

There was a tone in her voice that made Jimmy’s brown .
cheek grow red as he said,—

“Yes ’m; it pays first rate; and you said once, there
wasn’t nothin’ in work to be ashamed of, so ’twas honest.”

“T know,” said the lady ; “ but I’ve been wishing and
fancying something good had happened to you. I made
up my mind that you had gone away from this bad, dirty
city into the country, somewhere, to smell the hay and the
clover blossoms, and see the beautiful things that God is
making now.”

“TI lived in the country once, Ma’am,” said vimmy,
16 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

wondering at her brightening face, “and I didn’t like it
very much.”

“T know a little boy,” said the lady, sadly, “who
would give every precious thing he has, only to smell the
sweet country air, and hear the birds sing, and see the
green grass and the clear little brooks again.”

“Why don’t he go, then? ’tain’t more’n two mile, the
way Farmer Norton comes, till you’re right amongst the
farms.”

The lady shook her head, and made no answer.

“Are you here often, Jimmy?” she asked, presently ;
‘because I should like to see you once in awhile, and
know how you get on.”

“Yes’m, this is on my beat, but I mostly begin down
by the saloons, and so don’t get this way so early. The
saloons are the best pickin’.’’

“Well, if you ever want to see me you'll know where
to find me; and if I can help you, Jimmy, I shall always
be glad to do it.”

“She’s a spry one,” said Jimmy, as the lady passed on,
with the same springing step; ‘“ but I reckon she’s worried
about something or other. Her eyes don’t laugh the way
they used to.”

Jimmy went on with his work, and kept thinking over
what the lady had said about the little boy, until all at
once he hit upon a plan which seemed to please him very
much. He nodded his head and laughed over his work,
and when he finally threw down his bag of pickings in
Judy’s cellar, he said to her,—
STARTING. 17

“T sha’n’t be in to-morrow; I’m goin’ off on a tramp.”

“You needn’t mind to come back, then,’ growled
Judy; “I don’t want no dealin’s with trampers.”

“Tf I like it Pll stay, then,” said Jimmy, carelessly ;
for he knew Judy well enough not to care for her threats.

The next day, just as the gray light of the early
morning began to steal in at the town windows, Jimmy
crawled out of the close, hot cellar where he slept with
about twenty others, and set his face towards the open
country, by the same road that Farmer Norton had brought
him in his market waggon. Jimmy was dirty and dread-
fully ragged, and his first thought was that he did not
want to meet the farmer in such a plight. So he gave the
market-house a wide berth, and kept a sharp look-out for
the span of gray horses, and the neat, covered waggon.

“T mean to go back there, some day,” he said to
himself, “‘when I can go respectable; and then I'll pay
them Foster boys that always used to call me ‘ Essence of
Catnip’ and ‘ Poor-man’s Plaster.’ ”

Outside of the city were rows of little shanties, sur-
rounded by pig-pens and little patches of vegetables, but
very soon he came to the broad open fields, where the rows
of green corn were all glistening in the sunrise, and the
clover. hung its fragrant heads, weighed down with dew.
Nearly two miles farther on was a simall stream and a strip
of woods, which Jimmy remembered very well. He had
been there many a time with the old pedlar, in search of
roots and herbs for his wonderful syrups and liniments,
and gone home with a load of wild plants. He climbed

B
18 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

over the stone wall, and followed the brook till it led him
into the thick shadows of the woods. He sat down on a
little, green bank, all covered with moss and liverwort, and
took off his battered old cap to feel the cool, 1a0ist touch
of the wind upon his forehead. It was a pleasant place
to rest on a warm June day, and Jimmy looked about
chim with a great deal of satisfaction.

“*Tis sort o’ pretty, that’s so,” he said to himself.
“Soands just as if the water was tryin’ to say some-
thin’.”’

Jimmy ate part of the lunch he had bought at a cheap
little eating stall, and then began his work of gathering
wild flowers. He was familiar with every nook of the
woods, and soon had a large collection, and he sat down by
the brook to tie them up.

“Right here’s where the old man sat, last time he was
out here,” thought Jimmy, “tyin’ up spearmint and liver-
wort. I wonder now where he’s gone to? ’tain’t likely
they’d want him up in heaven. I never seen no pictures
of angels looked like him.” Jimmy laughed out loud, as
he tied up his posies, thinking of the old man with his
patches and his sallow face; and then avery pleasant voice
asked,—

“What are you laughing about?”

He looked up in surprise, to see a young lady with her
hands full of flowers and ferns, and answered promptly,— _

“ Thinkin’ how the old man would look up in heaven,
all over wrinkles and patches.”

“Has he gone there?” asked the lady, reverently.
STARTING. 19

“The parson said so, to the buryin’; but ’tain’t
noways likely to be true.”

“ His old clothes and his wrinkles would not go there,”
said the lady, sitting down to arrange her flowers; “ but
if his soul was white and holy, that would go there, and
God would give it a new body and beautiful garments of
white.”

“‘T must be trampin’,” said Jimmy ; “or I shall be too
late to meet her.”

“Do you live in the town?” asked the lady.

“Yes’m,” said Jimmy, as he put on his cap.

“And do you care so much for flowers that you come
away here for them?”

“T wanted ’em for her,” said Jimmy. “I don’t set
much store by ’em myself. She goes home about supper
time, and I reckon on meetin’ her by the crossin’.”

“Let me arrange them a little for you,” said the lady ;
“those ferns will droop as soon as you go out of the
shade.”

She took the flowers and dippéd them in the brook |
until they were thoroughly wet, then wrapped a wet
handkerchief about their stems.

“You can keep the handkerchief,” she said; and
Jimmy thanked her, and went trudging back through the
hot sun to the town. He could not help wishing that he
was wrapped in a wet handkerchief himself; but at last he
reached the town pavements, and looking up at the clock
on one of the church spires, he saw that he had fully an -

hour to spare. He sat down in the shade of a building
B2

?
20 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

opposite the crossing to rest and watch. The lady came
rather earlier than usual, and walked very rapidly, never -
once seeing Jimmy till she had passed him, and he ran
and pulled her by the dress. As she turned he saw how
weary and troubled she looked, though her face brightened
at the sight of the wild flowers Jimmv thrust into her
hand.

“O Jimmy,” she said, “they’re wild flowers ; real wild
flowers out of the woods! where did you get them?”

“T went for em, Ma’am,” said Jimmy; they’re for him
—for the little boy you know.”

“For Charley,” said the lady, in surprise; ‘“ they’ll do
him more good than medicine. Poor little fellow he begins
to grow weaker with this warm weather.”

“JT must hurry home to him,” she said, a minute after ;
“and I can’t tell you how much we both thank you,
Jimmy. It was so kind of you to think of it.”


CHAPTER I.
4 HELPING HAND.

N Christmas morning, Jimmy was strolling through the
streets, not quite knowing how to enjoy his holiday,
when a pleasant voice wished him a “merry Christmas.”’
He turned in surprise to meet the smiling face of some one
who said, “I’ve been looking for you all the morning,
Jimmy. I thought you would be sure to come up this
street to look at the toys, and now I want you to come
home with me. Charley wants to see you.”

Jimmy followed the lady at a-respectful distance, feeling
more ashamed of his old rags than ever, and wondering
who Charley might be, and what he could want with him.
The lady stopped at a great boarding-house, and went up
four flights of stairs to a little room almost at the attic.

“This is where I live,” she said, motioning Jimmy to
enter the door, “and this is my brother Charley.”

Jimmy saw a very pale little face looking at him from
the pillows of the lounge, and made an awkward bow,
before he finished his examination of the rocm. It was
very plainly, almost poorly furnished; but on a stand
beside the little invalid were a fine orange, a bunch of hot-
house grapes, and a tiny bouquet of bright flowers. - They
were Charley’s Christmas gifts, and to buy them his sister
had denied herself of indulgences for weeks.
22 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“This is the little hoy who sent you the wild flowers,
Charley,” said his sister ; and Charley held out his thin
hand to Jimmy, and gave him a bright smile of welcome.

“What is your name besides Jimmy?” he asked
pleasantly ; “my name is Charley Fielding, and my sister
is Mary Fielding—we take care of each other now.”

“Tt used to be Jimmy Marvin; anyhow, that’s what
the old man called me, and I reckon he know’d.”

Charley drew his sister down to his sofa, and whispered
a request in herear. Whatever it was, she seemed a little
unwilling to grant it, for, as she lifted her head she said,
in a low tone,—

“O Charley!”

“Do let me, Mary,” he went eagerly on keeping hold of
her hand, “ you know I haven’t anything else to give, and
I never shall make any one a Christmas present again ”

“You shall do just as you please with the clothes,
Charley,” said the lady, kissing his little pale cheek, with
tears in her eyes. Presently she went toa trunk, and took
out, one by one, a complete suit of boy’s clothes a little
worn, but still very good.

“The cap, too, Mary,” said Charley, seeing his sister
lay back the cap, with its band of dark blue velvet.

But she only shook her head, and folded it up in its
wrappings. She could not forget how many times she had
watched from her window to see that dear little cap come
dancing along the sidewalk, with Charley’s bright curls
under it. She could not forget the dead mother’s hand

‘ that had shaped it with so many loving thoughts for her




































































































A HELPING HAND. 25

darling, and she knew that, very soon, when the sofa was
empty, the precious little cap would be a sacred thing to her.

But she took the clothes and brought them to Jimmy,
saying,— :

“Here, Jimmy, this is Charley’s Christmas present to
you. I should like it very much if you would make your-
self as clean as you can before you put them on. I will
place some water for you in the next room.”

Jimmy looked over the.clothes in perfect astonishment
hardly knowing what to say in acknowledgment. Then
he laid them deliberately on a chair, and started for the
door, saying,

“ T’ll be back in a minute or so.”’

Tn the course of half an hour he made his appearance,
with his ragged locks clipped close to his head, and brushed
into quite a comely fashion.

“You see, Ma’am,’’ he explained, “I didn’t want to
disgrace you by puttin’ on them things till I'd seen the
barber; and Bill Geary, he shampooned me and trimmed
me up nice, and only charged me sixpence, seein’ ’twas
Christmas.”

Charley did not think his clothes at all disgi.ced by
the neat-looking boy who came out of the little kitchen,
with his brown face shining, and his great, black eyes
bright with pleasure. He looked at himself with a great
deal of satisfaction, and when Mary Fielding brought out
the little mirror, which was ali the looking-glass she
possessed, he turned from side to side and seemed perfectly
delighted with the transformation. He took up his old
26 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

rags, and from some mysterious place brought out an old
stocking foot containing his small hoard of pennies and
silver coins.

“Give him my marble bag to put them in,” said
Charley ; and the money was soon changed into the neat
little bag, and placed in the inside pocket of the new jacket.
Jimmy held his old cap doubifully on his fist a moment,
turning it around in silence.

“Wait a minute, Jimmy,” said the lady. “I think I
can manage it for you,” and she put on her bonnet and
passed hastily out. She went straight to a large clothing-
store in the next block, and walked up to the proprietor,
who was sitting by the desk, looking over his papers.

“Good morning, Miss Fielding,” he said, “can I do
anything for you this morning ? ”

“ Yes, Mr. Neil,” said the lady, “I want you to make
me a Christmas present.” *

“ Certainly, certainly,” said Mr. Neil; “ choose for your-
self anything that pleases you.”

“Charley has a little rag-picker up-stairs, whom he has
fitted out with some of his cast-off clothes, but I cannot let
him give the cap away, because mother made it; and I
want you to give me an old cap that is not worth much—
anything will do.”

“ Here’s the very thing,” said Mr. Neil, opening a box
of warm, plush caps; ‘‘ these have been out of style these
two years, but they are warm, and I dare say Charley’s
protégé is not particular about the style. How is Charley
now, any better?”
A HELPING HAND. 27

“No better,” said the lady, gravely ; and she thanked
Mr. Neil for the cap and hurried away.

“ Here’s the very thing for you, Jimmy,” she said, as
she came back, “ Mr. Neil gave it to me for a Christmas
present.”

The new cap completed Jimmy’s delight. He had
~ never owned a new cap before, and it seemed too. much to
believe that he really was to be the owner of a whole suit,
from top to toe.

““Now,” said Charley, almost as well pleased as he,
“you can bundle up your old clothes, and throw them into
the gutter—they’ve done their duty.”

“Not by along shot, Mr. Charley,” said Jimmy, with
a funny twinkle of his eye; “them clothes is worth money
in the market. I shall sell ’em to old Judy, to-morrow.”

“What in the world are they good for?” asked the
lady, in astonishment.

“Good to make broadcloth!” said Jimmy. “ They'll
grind ’em up into shoddy, and make ’em up into cloth, and
some grand gentleman ’Il go struttin’ about with Jimmy
Marvin’s old rags on his back! Wouldn’t he squirm,
though, if he knew it?”

Jimmy tied up his bundle, and then suddenly opened
it, saying,—

“T’ve forgot my card.”

“What is that?” asked the lady, as he took a bit of
dirty pasteboard from the pocket.

“My card, Ma’am—the one you read to me on the
street,one morning. I can read it myself now: ‘ The hund
28 TIE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

of the diligent mal-eth rich.’ I haven’t forgat what you said
about it, neither.”

‘“*T wonder if you couldn’t find some better work than
rag-picking, Jimmy,” said the lady; “‘to be sure, it is an
honest way of getting a living, but it must be dirty and
disagreeable.”

“ Yes’m, it’s dirty enough,” said Jimmy ; “ and I’ve been
thinkin’ about startin’ in the newspaper business, only it
ain’t so sure as the rag trade, takin’ one day with another.”

“Bat if you sell papers, Jimmy, they’ll let you into the
newsboys’ lodging-house, and you’d have a comfortable
place to sleep, and a chance to learn a great many things
if you choose.”

Jimmy’s black eyes sparkled at the thought, and he
got right up from his chair, saying,—

“Till go in for to-night, Ma’am, so’s not to bring my
new clothes into bad company.”

Miss Fielding thought of the ragged little newsboys’
she had met on the streets, and could not help smiling to
think of their being any more respectable than Jimmy,
bué she promised him a noite of introduction to a gentleman
who had control cf one of the lodging-houses, and recom-
mended him to start with the evening papers.

“T expect you'll succeed, Jimmy,” she said, hopefully,
“and maybe I shall live to see you sent to Congress. Do
you know what that is?”

“No, Ma’am,” said Jimmy, innocently, “but I reckon
*taint to the lock-up, is it ?”

“Not exactly ; if you’d only make up your mind to be
A HELPING HAND. 29

honest and industrious, I don’t know of anybody that has
a better prospect of growing up to be good for something
in the world.”

“IT never cheated but once, Ma’am, and I settled it
once for all that time,” said Jimmy, with a very
decided shake of the head. ‘ That was when another cove
and me sold some ashes to the soap factory. A woman
gave ’em to us if we'd cart ’em off, and the other chap he
showed me how ’t we could mix coal ashes in, and make
’em weigh heavier, and we made "bout a shillin’ more, I
reckon; but every time it rattled in my pocket I thought
of what the old man said. Says he, ‘Jimmy, don’t never
touch a dishonest penny ; i'll be sure to burn a hole in your
pocket.’ Thinks I, ’twon’t never do to keep that shillin’ ;
made me feel kind o’ mean, too, and I couldn’t look a
pl’iceman in the face, for fear he was goin’ to jerk me up;
so I just took and flung it in the river. You don’t catch
me try any dodges ag’in.”

“The best way would have been to take it back to the
soap factory, and tell them about it,” said Charley.

“That shows how much you know about folks,” said
Jimmy. “They'd a called in the p’lice, and sent me right up.”

“Tt’s always best to be honest, though,” persisted Charley.

“Thats so,’ assented Jimmy, readily; “and now I
guess I'll go and get my papers.”

He went out at the door with his bundle of old clothes,
and then came back to say,—

“You jest take notice to-night, and you'll hear some
pretty loud yellin’ under your winder—lI’ve got a screecher
30 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

of a voice;” and he astonished the lodgers all down the
long halls by yelling as he went down the stairs,—

“°Hre’s the New York Lightnin’ Express; ’count of
the Explosion of the City Park, and great fire in ’Lantic
Ocean!”

“TI mean to keep a look-out for that boy,” said the lady,
laughing; “I believe he’s a born genius.”

“‘T shall keep a look-out for him, too,” said Charley,
thoughtfully ; “he goes to work on the right plan, at any
rate.” 2

His sister looked at his wasted form, with a sharp pang
at the thought that Charley’s earthly watching was almost
done, and she should soon be left alone.

“T’m so glad you thought to bring him here,” said
Charley, presently ; ‘‘ because it is so long since I’ve felt
as if I was of any use to anybody—and it seems so good
to make a merry Christmas for somebody, once more.”

“You make all days good to me, Charley,” said his
sister, forcing back the tears, with a bright smile; “so
don’t talk about not being of any use. Iam sure I couldn't
live without you.”

“Goud knows; and He loves us,” said Charley, in a
whisper, leaning back wearily on his pillows.

The letter of introduction gained Jimmy ready admit-
tance into the lodging-house, and he was invited to remain
and share the Christmas dinner which was served for the
newsboys at two o'clock. é

The boys received him with a chorus of shouts and
A HELPING HAND. 81

jokes that would have frightened a timid boy, but Jimmy
stood his ground bravely.

“If you're goin’ to live here,” said a tall boy, “you'll
have to be shaved; we shave all the greenies.”

“Come on, then,” said Jimmy, defiantly ; “just try it
on, if you think it’ll be healthy.”

But the boys rushed upon him like so many tigers, held
his hands behind his back, forced him into a chair, rubbed
strong soap over his face and eyes, and then roughly
scraped his cheeks with an old jack knife. In the midst
of the shouts and laughter, a gentleman came to the door,
and asked mildly,—

‘Boys, what are you doing? ”

“Only ’nitiating the new boy,” said a sturdy little
fellow, releasing Jimmy’s hands. Jimmy went quietly to
the. wash-bowl and washed the soap from his face.

“ That’s rather a rough way to welcome a friend,” said
the gentleman, smiling at J: ee
eeeleedonst Complains Sir,” said Jimmy: “I’ve seen a
sight of rough handlin’ in my day.”

“ He’s good grit,” said the tallest boy, “and I'll see
that he ain’t put upon ag’in.’

The sound of the fence bell started them all, with a
whoop, towards the dining-room, but as soon as the gentle-
man raised his hand, they subsided into quiet, and marched
in procession to the table.

The dinner, which had been provided partly by some
ladies who were interested in the enterprise, and partly by
contributions from the boys themselves, was in.every way
ao TIE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

abundant and tempting. There were roasted fowls, vege-
tables of all kinds, and pies and puddings in great
variety.

The boys did full justice to it, and it was amusing
enough to hear their comical remarks, and see how every
one was fairly running over with fun and satisfaction. —

“Sorry I haven’t anything better to offer you, Sir,”
said a fat boy, passing a plate of roast turkey to Jimmy ;
“but the fact is, you took me so by surprise I hadn’t time
to get up a swell dinner, and the servants drank up all my
champagne.”

“Don’t make any apologies,” said Jimmy, “I’m used
to frugal fare. Since my rich father turned me out of
doors, and the p’lice stole my watch and diamonds, I’ve
had to rough it considerable.”

“ Boys,” said the gentleman who had led them to the
table, “shall I read to you while you eat?”

“No!” said oue or two, bluntly. ‘“ Yes! said others;
and the confusion was worse than ever.

“Ts a funny story,” said the gentleman, “about a
boy that hung up his stocking on Cbristmas-eve, and got
a policeman in it.”

“Go ahead, then,” said arude boy; “ but don’t read us
nothin’ with a morrul to it.”

Jimmy saw a funny twinkle in the gentleman’s eye as
he began to read, but the boys seemed greatly delighted
with the story, and made no interruptions, swallowing the
liberal dose of moral at the end, with their plum-pudding,
without making any wry faces,
A HELPING HAND. 33

“Must have been a precious greeny,” said one of the
boys, “to hang his stocking on the outside of the
door.”

“T wish I’d come along there,” said another, “and
seed the notice to Santa Claus to stop and fill it; I’d a put
something jolly in.”

“But it did effect just what he wanted,” said the
gentleman ; “for you know the policeman felt so sorry for
the poor little fellow, that he couldn’t rest till he’d sent a
basket of nice things to the poor hovel.”

“T never know’d such things only in stories,” said the
tall boy; “ folks mostly take of theirselves, or else go
without.”

“T’ve known such things,” said Jimmy, bravely ; “ I’ve
seen ’em to-day. A lady called me in from the street, and
gave me these clothes in place of my old rags.”

Somebody outgrowed.’em, I reckon,” said the tall
boy, with a sneer; “that’s the way rich folks afford to be
generous.”

“They ain’t rich folks,” said Jimmy, indignantly ;
“they’re real poor, for Miss Mary said so, and she has to
work hard for a livin’ ; the boy he’s sick—got the consump-
tion or something—anyway, he ard his sister give me the
clothes, and I heard Charley say something about goin’
where the inhabitants should not say, ‘I am sick.’ I
reckon they’re goin’ to move to the country, but it’s my
mind he’ll die first.”

“He'd better die, ’nough sight, if he’s poor,’’ said the
tall boy, gloomily.

a
34 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“ There’s only one country where the inhabitants never
say ‘Iam sick,” said the gentleman, “and if Charley is
going there it will be a glorious exchange for him. But I
don’t think people ought to wish to die. I had a great
deal rather live and help to do the work of the world.”

“Do you s’pose anybody wants us to help?” asked a
shrewd little fellow with a very old face.

“ God wants you,” said the gentleman. “ He has some
special work in the world for every one of you; and He'll
show it to you, if you only try to find it.”

“T don’t know about that,” said the tall boy, who
seemed to be a sort of sour philosopher, “I like to see the
good of what I work for, and not take all the hard knocks,
and rough jobs, without any pay.”

“ God always pays us for what we do for Him, but I
don’t see that He is bound to pay us for working for our-
selves. The city doesn’t pay men for clearing the snow
away before their own doors.”

Jimmy noticed that all around the walls of the dining-
room were large cards, with Scripture mottoes on them ;
such as, ‘The fear of the Lord is the beginning of know-
ledge.’ “The hand of the diligent maketh rich.” “A
good name is rather to be chosen than great riches.”

His eyes lighted up with pleasure as he recognised his
own verse, and he read it over to himself with a determina-
tion he had never felt before. :

“‘We have lessons in the evening, if you like ’em,”’ said
the tall boy to Jimmy, “‘ and somebody reads history to us.
A HELPING HAND. 85

There’s a Savings’ Bank, too, and most of the boys put in
something every week.”

“ That's good,” said Jimmy; “I never had any chance
to learn, and if there’s anything for me to do in the world,
I should like to know it.”

“Should you? ” said the tall boy, gloomily.

“Why, of course,” said Jimmy, laughing; “I should
hate to stand in anybody’s way, when I might just as well
be getting on.”

“It’s a mighty hard world for poor folks,” said the tall
boy.

“Ts itP” said Jimmy; “ why, I’ve always had a jolly
time in it. When anybody gives me a kick, it always
seems to send me just the way I wanted to go.”

That evening a short lesson in reading and writing was
given to the boys, and an interesting chapter in history
was read to them by the same gentleman who read them
the story at dinner. Iam sorry tosay Jimmy fell fast asleep
during the reading, but then he was tired, and did not
quite understand what it was all about. He was wide
awake enough when another gentleman began to lead the
boys in singing a lively song with this chorus,—

“Then work, my boys, with heart and hand,
Until your work is done ;
There’s work for you and me to do,
There’s work for every one.”

“When I was a boy,” said the gentleman, “‘I used to
write in my copy book, ‘ There is no royal road to knowledge,’
and I often wondered what it meant. I suppose it meant

02
36 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

that everybody had to get knowledge in the same way,
whether they were rich or poor, and that way is by hard,
honest work. I call that a ‘royal road,’ don’t you, boys?
It’s good enough for anybody to walk in; and it’s a royal
road because it leads to almost everything worth having.
It’s the royal road to riches, and the royal road to fame,
and the royal road to almost everything that men can win
in this life.”

The white room where the boys slept was long and
narrow, and had rows of small, clean beds on each side.
The beds were numbered, and number twenty-three was
assigned to Jimmy. He hardly knew how to go to bed in
any respectable style, he had so long been used to sleeping
in his clothes on a pile of loose straw, but when he did go
to sleep, it was to dream he was climbing on his hands and
knees up a very steep hill, while far at the top shone the
magical words, “ Royat Roap to Ricuzs!”

The next day began in good earnest the new work of
selling newspapers, and Jimmy soon “ got the hang of it,”
as the boys say, and was quite successful at his work.
But he enjoyed more than any of the others the comfort of
a respectable home, and no one gave closer attention to the
evening lessons, or seemed more determined to make the
most of every opportunity for improvement.

“What's the good of studying?” the tall boy would
sometimes say to him. “May as well have a, little fun,
evenings; we'll never come to no good, anyhow.”

“T mean to come to something,” Jimmy would answer ;
A HELPING HAND. 37

“ shouldn’t wonder if they’d be appointing me to the legis-
lature one of these days; I’m bound to beat those Foster
boys, anyhow, and let ’em see I’m just as smart as they
are.”

And then Jimmy would tell him about Benjamin
Franklin, who was only a poor printer, and Roger Sherman
who was a shoemaker; and whenever he talked about
them, his brown cheeks would glow, and his eyes would
flash with the fire of resolute determination, and he would
take up his book in a way that made one feel sure that if
there was any royal road to riches, the earnest boy would
be sure to find it.






CHAPTER III.
GOING WEST.

NCE or twice, when Jimmy was going his rounds with

his papers, he had met the lady who had so kindly

taken an interest in him. The first time they met she

stopped and asked him how he was getting on, and told

him, sadly, that Charley was getting much weaker. But

she did not ask him to come and see them, only as they
parted she said,

“Tf you need my help, Jimmy, don’t be afraid to come
and ask it, though I think you’re not likely to want me
now you’re fairly on your feet.”

One day in the early spring, when the warm sunshine
and the soft south wind had made even the city people
think pleasantly of green banks that were getting yellow
with dandelions, Jimmy stopped for a minute to look at
some lovely greenhouse plants which were displayed for
sale at a florist’s door.

‘“*Must be flowers in the woods by this time,” said
Jimmy ; “liverwort and bloodroot and saxifrage. I mean
to go and get some for Charley.”

’ And go he did; but when he knocked at the door of
the little fourth-storey room, with the pale, delicate flowers
already beginning to droop over his hand, there came a
strange face in answer to his knock—a coarse woman, who
GOING WEST. 89

told him she had rented the rooms two months before, and
knew nothing of the former occupants. The landlady her-
self could only tell him that two months ago the boy had
died, and his sister had gone away ; somewhere out of the
city, she thought, though she had little time to trouble
herself with comers and goers.

So Jimmy went back sadly to his work, feeling some-
what as if the great city was a very different place to him
now that these two friends had gone away from it. The
spring flowers brightened the study room of the lodging-
house for several days, and every time Jimmy looked at
them they made him think of Charley, and he hoped they
had made his grave somewhere in the green country, where
the spring flowers would grow over it.

Mr. Walters, the gentleman whom he had first met at
the lodging-house, took a warm interest in Jimmy, and
used often to talk to him about going away from the city
to live. ;

“T don’t like the country about here, Mr. Walters,”
Jimmy said, one day; “I’ve tried it, and I know I
shouldn’t feel satisfied. But I should like to go out West,
if I could; John Freeman says, ‘the West is the country
for young men.’”

“And what does John Freeman know about it?” said
Mr. Walters, smiling.

He’s got a cousin living out in Michigan, and I wrote
a letter for him, and asked him to send out some money to
pay John’s fare up there. Do you think he’ll be likely to
do it, Sir? ”
40 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“As I don’t know John Freeman’s cousin, of course 1
can’t tell,’ said Mr. Walters; “but if I were the cousin, I
should think a stout boy of sixteen years, who could not
earn his own passage to Michigan, was not worth the
trouble of bringing out there.”

_ “How could anybody earn his passage ?”’ said Jimmy,
eagerly ; “I mean, how could I do it?”

“ Well,” said Mr. Walters, deliberately, “I can think
of a good many ways. You have some money in the
Savings’ Bank, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” said Jimmy; “but I don’t mean to spend
that unless I am obliged to.”

“That’s right enough. But you might get some Bay
on the street to give you a few lessons in boot blacking—
it isn’t a hard business to learn, and you’d soon catch it.
Then take enough of your money to buy a ticket to the
first large city on your way; say to Rochester. Then you
must stop till you can earn enough to go farther, and so
goon until you reach Michigan—that is, if you want to
go there; but I wouldn’t advise you to do it.”

“Isn’t Michigan a good place, Sir?” asked Jimmy,
wonderingly.

“Good enough, I dare say,” said Mr. Walters; “ but
if you go west, I want you to go to Ohio. I know some
people there who might do something to help you
along.”

Neither Mr. Walters nor Jimmy said anything more
about it for some time; but one day some months after-
wards, as Mr. Walters was coming from his office to the
GOING WEST. 4)

lodging-house, he was greeted by a familiar voivc, which
asked,—

“ Black your boots, Sir?”

“Why, Jimmy Marvin!” he exclaimed, in great sur-
prise, ‘‘ what has sent you into this business?”

“T’m only experimenting, Sir; may I try my hand on
your boots?”

“To be sure,” said Mr. Walters, setting his foot on the
block; “mind you do it well.”.

“Yes, Sir,” said Jimmy ; and in a very few minutes he
put a polish on Mr. Walters’ boots, that proved him a pro-
ficiont in his new trade.

“You'll do,’ said Mr. Walters, examining them and
looking curiously at Jimmy ; “I wonder what this means.”

“I means,” said Jimmy, triumphantly, “that I am
getting ready to go to Ohio.”

“O, I remember,” said Mr. Walters and then they
went together into the study room.

Jimmy made up his mind to two things before evening,
and he came home to the lodging-house with an expression
on his bright, intelligent face which attracted Mr. Walters’
attention at once. After supper, instead of joining the
boys in the play-room, he went to the little office where
Mr. Walters, was crediting the amounts paid into the
Savings’ Bank by the boys during the day.

“Well, Jimmy,” said Mr. Walters, pleasantly, “ did
you want to see me to-night?”

“Yes, Sir,” said Jimmy, looking very much excited
about something ; “I’ve made up my mind to go west.”
42 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES,

“Have you?” asked Mr. Walters; “you are not
going with any one, are you ?”

“T’m going on my own account, Sir,” said Jimmy; “I
mean to pay my way with my blacking brushes, as you told
me once; and I thought J’d leave my money here for safe
keeping, till I want to go into business somewhere.”

Mr. Walters, smiled a little, and then asked, ‘‘ What
part of the west did you think of going to? You know
it is a pretty large country.”

“T don’t know,” said Jimmy, whose ideas of geography
were not very clear; “I thought maybe there'd be a city
up there somewhere at the end of the railroad.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Walters, gravely, “I believe there is
one—several of them, in fact. See here, Jimmy, I'll make
you a map. This is New York, in this corner—not the
city, but the whole State—and this little dot here is the
city. On here is Ohio—that’s another State—then come
Indiana and Illinois, and up here is Michigan. That is
enough for your purpose. Now this mark is a railroad ;
it starts here from New York city, goes clear through the
State, through Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, to this dot.
That is another great city, called Chicago. This dot here
is the city of Rochester—this is Buffalo—this is Cleveland
—and this one down here is Columbus. I'll print the
names, and you can keep the map to look at. Nowdo you
want me to advise you a little?”

“T meant to ask you about it, because I thought I'd

better start to-morrow.”
“So soon? Well, perhaps it’s best, for the bootblacks
GOING WEST. 43

will tell you this is a famous month for muddy boots. If
I were you I’d make up my mind to go to Ohio, and no
farther, at present. Do you think you can manage it?”

“Yes, Sir,” said Jimmy, confidently. “TI ain’t afraid
to try.”

“T think, on the whole, you’d better take your money
with you—at least a part of it; you know you might be
sick, and it would not be safe to go without any.”

Jimmy nodded his head, and Mr. Walters took out his
knife and began slowly to sharpen his pencil. He felt as
if he wanted in some way to help Jimmy a little more, but
he could not see just how to do it,

“I might give you a letter to some one in Cleveland, if
I knew just who would be likely to do you any good,” he
said, reflectively. “It seems hard to start out with no
particular plans, and no one to plan for you.”

“Mr. Walters,” said Jimmy, hesitating, “you told us
boys, this morning, about some One who planned things
for you, and brought you out all right, and I thought,
maybe, seeing it wouldn’t be any trouble to Him to look
after me a little, I might as well ask Him to take me in
hand.”

“ Well,” said Mr. Walters, as Jimmy paused.

“Well, I just asked Him about it, and I agreed to do
my part as well as I know how; and if He’d help me to
get on, why by and by I’d give some other chap a lift.”

“ And so pay off y our debt to the Lord, and make it all
square, I suppose,” said Mr. Walters, looking keenly at
Jimmy.
44, THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“No, Sir, not quite that. That would be only giving
Him back His own again; but we can’t do anything for
Him, you know, and so we have to do it for other folks—
just to show we ain’t shamming, you see.”

“T see,” said Mr. Walters; and he added, more to him-
self than to Jimmy, “ Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought
also to love one another.”

The next morning, Jimmy astonished the boys by
gravely bidding them good-bye, and starting away for the
western train with Mr. Walters. They were full of noisy
good wishes and rough jokes, but Jimmy was very quiet
and grave. He felt as if he had undertaken a great thing,
and although his courage was as good as ever, yet it really
was running a great risk, for a boy like him to leave
everybody he had ever known, and start out to make his
way alone. Mr. Walters took him to his own home, and
gave him a warm, comfortable breakfast, and his wife
sewed up Jimmy’s money in a little bag of oiled silk, which
she fastened in his clothes.

“This is your ‘distress fund,’ you know, Jimmy,” she
said ; “and you are only to use it in case of need.”

“Yes’m,” said Jimmy; “and I wish you’d pnt this
card in with it.”

Mrs. Walters glanced in surprise at the soiled b:4 of
pasteboard, worn and torn atthe edges, and read aloud,
“The hand of the diligent maketh rich.”

“That’s a good motto, Jimmy; where did you get it?”

“A little girl dropped it on my crossing, most two
years ago. That was what first made me think about
GOING WEST. ad

trying to be somebody—tnat and what the lady said to me
about it.”

Mrs. Walters put it in the bag with the money, and
Jimmy’s little account book, where all his savings were set
down. Then Mr. Walters brought out a little trunk of
japanned tin, and put Jimmy’s brushes and block into it,
saying,

“ There, Jimmy, that little trunk held all my property
when I came to this Country: and I’m going w give it to
you to put your fortune in.’

Jimmy was delighted with the trank, and could not
help thinking it gave him a respectable look. One hour
later, Mr. Walters saw him seated in a car bound for
Rochester, and bade him good-bye with hearty regret; yet
feeling confident, after all, that he should be sure to hear
again from Jimmy Marvin, and that he should hear nothing
but good.

One cloudy morning, near the first of December, a
quiet, shrewd-looking little fellow was walking up and
down the platform of the great depdt in Cleveland,
watching the men as they tumbled the trunks and boxes
from the baggage cars to the trucks, and seeming to have
an eye open to everything that was going on. He carried
a little tin trunk in his hand, and had quite the look ofa
man of business. A train that had been switching up and
down now gave out its warning whistle, and as the
passengers left their breakfasts half eaten, and hurried into
the carriages, a brakeman, who had been watching the
hoy, called out,—
eee
15 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“Here tin trunk! want a job?”

“Yes, Sir,” said the boy, promptly, as he hurried to
the train.

“Jump up here, then,” and he caught the boy by the
hand and swung him on to the platform, just as the train
moved out of the depét.

“ What’s your name?” he asked, holding fast to his
brake, and peering ahead to see the switch-tender’s signal.

“ Jimmy Marvin,” said the boy.

“ Fiver run on a train P”

“No,” said Jimmy. “I’ve sold newspapers, and
blacked boots, and picked rags, and done lots of other
things.”

“You'll do I reckon. You see ‘ Peanuts’ is took down
with fever—”

“What?” asked Jimmy, ignorantly.

““¢ Peanuts ’—he’s the train boy—’tends to the fires,
waters the passengers, and makes money out o’ the
greenies with peanuts, pop corn, and candy, and such.”

Here the brakeman left Jimmy, and bolted through
the car in obedience to some signal, and while he was
gone Jimmy had a minute to think aboutit. He liked
the idea, on the whole, and when the brakeman came
back, he readily agreed to take the place of the train bey
until he got well again.

“Providin’ he does get well,” added the brakeman.
“The chances are allers agin’ a feller in them cheap
boardin’ houses; between the nussin’ and the doctor, it’s a
hard row, Ef he dics, the News Company that takes
GOING WEST A?

charge of a good many of the roads may put a boy on.
We had a special bargain with Peanuts, and he was a
reg’lar straight outer—no cheatin’ or shammin’ about him.”

“That's the best way,” said Jimmy, decidedly; and he
entered upon his new duties with a determination to do
his best to win a good name, too.

There was nothing for him to sell that day; but he
attended to the fires and carried water through the cars,
and the good-natured brakeman promised to go with him,
when they reached the end of their route, and recommend
him to the man of whom Peanuts used to buy his stock in
trade.

“T don’t know nothin’ about ye, youngster,” he said,
as they walked along, “ but I’ve took a fancy to you: I’ve
seen heaps o’ boys, and I know the cut of ’em mighty
well,”

Jimmy invested a small amount in candy, oranges and
peanuts, according to the brakeman’s advice.

“T shan’t buy pop corn,” he decided, “ for it ain’t fit to
eat unless it’s fresh ; and if I get on well 1’ll buy a popper
and pop it myself. That'll be cheaper, and better, too.”

The brakeman offered to take Jimmy to his boarding-
place and let him share his room, until he could make
some other arrangement. To be sure, it was only a poor
little room in the fifth story of a dingy boarding-house,
but Jimmy had slept in worse places; and by the time he
had told the brakeman his story, what he had been and
what he meant to be, the man was so much interested in
him, that he pr’vately made up his mind to let him stay
48 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES

with him, provided he proved to be what they wanted on
the train. \

And now Jimmy was fairly started in business, and he
felt at least five years older, as he planned his daily
purchases, and counted up his daily gains. He was so
attentive and obliging, that he was soon a favourite on the
train, and he still shared the room of the brakeman,
staying one night at Cleveland and the next at Columbus,
so that his board cost him much less than if he had hired
@ room.


CHAPTER IV.
LOSS AND GAIN:

IMMY’S railroad speculations seemed to promise
abundant success; but, some time in January, his
friend, the brakeman, informed him that the train was
given in charge to the News Company, who would put one
of their own boys on: it.

“I’m mighty sorry ’bout it, and I did my best to get
’em to keep you on, and so did the conductor; but they
said the other chap had the promise of the first chance.”

Jimmy was a good deal disappointed, and for a minute
he felt discouraged. He was sitting on the edge of the
bed, which served for the only seat in the small chamber,
and for a while he did not say a word. Then he got up
and deliberately pulled off his boots.

“‘What are you going to do?” asked his friend.

“Going to bed,” said Jimmy.

“But about the train? I mean. I’ve tried to think of
something, for I don’t fancy letting you go; but I can’t
see no way.”

“T can’t see anything now: it looks pretty bad; but
maybe I shall think of something in the morning. Mr.
Walters told me once that the best thing that could happen
to us, sometimes, was to bo disappointed.”

“There’s one thing I can do for you: you can just

D
50 THE ROYAL ROAD TO BICHES.

stay here as long as you please,’ said the brakeman,
heartily.

in the morning, Jimmy woke up. bright and hopeful.
The first thing he did was to make a bargain with the
woman who kept the boarding-house, by which he was to
pay for his meals by doing some work at morning and
evening. Then he got out his little tin trunk, and started
for the station, with his blacking brushes. The ragged
boys, who waited around the platform with their brushes,
gathered about him- with rude shouts, when they found
out his business, but Jimmy either took no notice of them
or answered them good naturedly, and, in spite of all they
could do, he had several customers, and went home to
dinner with half a dollar in his pocket.

So matters went on for several weeks, and nothing
better seemed to be open to Jimmy, though he tried hard
to get a situation as parcel boy in a store, until he found
that he could earn more money at blacking boots. _

One day, as he was passing a large hotel, a gentleman
came down the steps, whose dusty boots attracted Jimmy’s
eye in a moment.

“ Black your boots, Sir? ” he aaiced:

“No,” said the gentleman, absently, buttoning up his
overcoat; then, glancing at Jimmy, he stopped, and said,
“T don’t care if you do, though, only be in a hurry.”

Jimmy went about the work, and the gentleman watched
him keenly.

“'That’s pretty well done,” he remarked, as the first
boot was finished. “Do you work in here?”
Loss AND GAIN. 51

“ At the hotel? No, Sir. I work wherever I can find
a job. I board with Mrs. Brown on Water-street.”

“Ah!” said the gentleman, smiling, “I thought you
lads peared at large, wherever you could find a crack to
curl up in.’

“Some of us have to,” said Jimmy ; “I’m lucky, my-
self. I work for my board.”

“And what do you do?” asked the gentleman,
beginning to feel interested.

“I carry coal to all the rooms on the second floor:
up-stairs lodgers don’t have any fire. I sweep the front
pavement, and scrub the steps once a week, and blacken the
boots for the telegraph chaps and old Mr. Simmons.”

“ Pretty well, I should think,” said the gentleman, taking
out his pocket-book; and, as he paid Jimmy for his work,
he looked pleasantly at him, and added, “‘ Honest work and
honest ways have been the making of many aman. I’ve been
a poor boy myself; not so very many years ago, either.”

“Seems to me,” thought Jimmy, as he looked after the
gentleman, “ most everybody that’s ne account used to be
poor. Must be the grit there is in’em.’

Not long afterward, as he was watching for a customer
in the crowd of passengers who were hurrying away from
a train, his eye brightened with pleasure to recognise the
same gentleman again. The gentleman remembered
Jimmy, too, and readily stopped on the steps of the depot
to have his boots polished.

“Well, my boy,” he asked, “ and how are you getting
along in ae world?”

D2
52 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“ Pretty well; only I should like to find some better
work,” said Jimmy.

‘Ah! don’t it pay, blacking boots?”

“Pays well enough; most anything pays if you stick
to it: but then a fellow wouldn’t want to black boots all
his life, you know.”

“T should think not,” said the gentleman, with an
amused smile. “You hayen’t told me what your name is
yet.”

“Jimmy Marvin.” And the bright, inquisitive eyes
glanced up at the gentleman’s face, as if they would like to
ask a question, too.

“That’s a pretty good name; my name is Jimmy, too;
or, at least it used to be when I was a boy—Jimmy
Warren.”

“T’ve heard of that name before,” said Jimmy, without
looking up from his brushes. ‘“ General Warren, you know,
that was killed in the war of the Revolution.”

‘“‘Tndeed,” said the gentleman. ‘And who killed him,
I should like to know?”

“The British soldiers killed him, at the battle of
Bunker’s Hill; only, you know, it ought to have been
called ‘ Breed’s Hill,’ because they made a mistake in the
night, and didn’t go to Bunker’s Hill at all.”

Jimmy paused in his work, and looked eagerly up at
the gentleman.

‘“‘ Where did you learn that?” he asked, in surprise.

“©Q, in the newsboys’ lodging-house, in New York!
They taught us all about the Revolution, there.”
LOSS AND GAIN. 53

“So you have been in New York, have you? I should
like to know how you came out here? ”

“ Worked my way, Sir,” said Jimmy, briefly, giving the
finishing touch to his work.

“What made you come? ” asked the gentleman.

“Because I wanted to do something for myself, and
there didn’t seem tobe much chancethere. I’ve heard that
the West was the best place for poor boys, but I haven’t
seemed to find much chance, yet.”

“And so you’re waiting for a chance, are you? ”

“Yes, Sir; waiting and working. I can’t afford to be
idle, you know ; and then I think of my motto.”

“What is itP ”’ asked the gentleman, looking at his
earnest, cheerful face, with admiration.

“‘The hand of the diligent maketh rich,” said Jimmy,
mechanically, as he sprang to secure another customer, who
was just passing.

“That's a remarkable boy,” said the gentleman to
himself. “I wonder if I couldn’t help him to the chance
he’s waiting for.”

He walked to the door of the depdt, then came slowly
back and stood a moment looking at Jimmy, who seemed
to be putting his whole mind to his work.

“ Jimmy,” he said, presently, “I should like to have a
little talk with you, but we haven’t either of us time to
spare now. I live about twelve miles out of the city,
and if you would like to go out with me I will pay your
passage out, and back in the morning.”
54 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“J think I should like to go, Sir,” said Jimmy, looking
pleased, but not stopping his work.

“Very well. I shall be here in time for the evening
express, and you can make up your mind about it.”

“J hope I haven’t picked up another foolish job,”
thought the gentleman, as he hurried away. “If he
should turn out like that little rascal of a Tom, that took
me in so completely ; but this one don’t look like a cheat,
and it seems to me as if the Lord had put him in my way
on purpose that I might help him. It’s somebody’s business,
and why not mine?”

All day Mr. Warren was too busy to think of Jimmy ;
but at evening, as he hurried to the train, he was quite
pleased to find him waiting for him, looking so clean and
tidy that he did not feel at all ashamed of his travelling
companion.

“So you concluded to go, did you 2 ” he said.

“Yes, Sir; it’s great luck to me to get invited any-
‘where. I owt believe I ever was invited anywhere
before.”

Then Jimmy told Mr. Warren all he knew of his own
history ; adding, rather sadly, as he finished,

‘“‘ Sometimes I wish’t I had some relations, somewhere.
Seems hard not to belong to anybody in particular, and
not to have anybody to care whether a fellow goes up or
down.”

“ Some One does care,” said Mr. Warren, ‘ Some One
says not a sparrow falls to the ground without our Father’s
notice, and then adds, in a very comforting way, ‘ Fear
LOSS AND GAIN. 55

not therefore ; ye are of more value than many sparrows.’
You know about that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir. The parson preached about it, once, to us
boys at the Home. I s’pose it’s all so, though sometimes
it don’t seem quite true. It’s a good ways up to heaven,
and I should like to have somebody to ask me, once ina
while, how I get along.”

Mr. Warren felt the keenest sympathy for the lonely
boy, for he remembered how often, in his struggling boy-
hood, he should have felt Jike giving up in despair, but for
the dear, hopeful mother, whose smiles were his daily
strength, and the loving little sister, for whom he was
ready to go through almost any hardship.

By this time the train was at the station, and the
brakeman shouted “ Shelby ” in at the door, so that nobody
had the faintest idea what he said, unless he happened to
live there, as Mr. Warren did. He and Jimmy left the
car, and from behind the small station a man came to
meet them.

“All right at home, George?” asked Mr. Warren,
walking briskly through the station.

“ All right, Sir,” answered the man, with a curious
glance at Jimmy.

Behind the station, a pair of handsome horses were
harnessed to a light farm wagon.

“Jump in, Jimmy,” said Mr. Warren, as he sprang into
the wagon; and the three were quickly riding over the
smooth road, towards a pleasant-looking farmhouse on
the outskirts ofthe town. It was too dark to see distinctly,
(86 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

but through the large windows of one room a bright fire
shone out and gave a pleasant picture of two little faces
pressed against the pane, and a lady passing to and fro.
Mr. Warren knew, too, that in the snuggest corner was a
dear old lady, whose placid face bore few marks of all the
storms that had beaten against it, and in his heart arose
the glad thoughts of thanksgiving with which he always
came back to his dear nest of a home.

As for Jimmy, he felt something in his throat that half
choked him, though he could not tell why; and for a
moment he wished himself back in the little boarding-
house attic, with the rough brakeman for his companion.

‘* Perhaps you'd like to go out with George to put up
the horses,” said Mr. Warren, understanding very well
that it would be a trial to Jimmy to face the whole family.

“Yes, Sir,” said Jimmy, with a feeling of relief. And
he and George were soon at the barn, making the acquaint-
ance of the horses and cows. Before they came in, they
managed to get acquainted with each other, and Jimmy felt
a good deal stronger for the rest.

There was certainly nothing very alarming about the
placid old lady who took his hand, with a pleasant smile,
and said, “‘Thee is very welcome, James,” in a way that
made Jimmy wonder if she meant him.

Mrs. Warren was a kindly little woman, and the
children were too much occupied with their father to care
much for any one else, so Jimmy found himself sitting at
the bountiful supper-table and afterwards filling a corner
of the room, with a very pleasant feeling of having a share


Ai) pall
WY OL |


Loss AND GAIN. 59

in the love and warmth of home. The children brought
him their games and books, and the grandmother called
him James, in her plain Quaker speech, and altogether it was
so delightful that he felt as if he must be ina strange
dream.

He shared a large, airy chamber with George, who
proceeded to satisfy his own curiosity about Jimmy, by
asking him all manner of questions.

“Mr, Warren’s. hired you, I reckon?” he suggested,
inquiringly.

“No, he hasn’t,” said Jimmy, “but I wish he would.
He’s rich, isn’t he P ”

“ Not so very ; worth a good deal for a farmer, though.
This is a stock farm, and there’s a sight more money in
stock than in crops, and not so much work.”

“T wish he would hire me,” repeated Jimmy. “Do
you s’pose I could do anything on a farm? ”’ and he looked
anxiously at his companion.

“ Well,” said. George, deliberately, “we rather need
_ another hand, and Mr. Warren talked of getting one of
the Lowry boys; they was raised on a farm, but they’re
shif’less lubbers, all of’em. Know anything ’bout stock ? ”

“No,” said Jimmy, honestly. “I can tell a sheep from
a pig, and that’s about all; but I could learn.”

“Of course you could,” said George, whose heart was
completely taken by this frank confession of ignorance.

“T didn’t know much myself, first start, but I always
took to animals naturally. They’ve got a good deal more
sense than most folks know for.”
60 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

Mr. Warren came out next morning, where Jimmy was
watching the feeding of a troop of half-grown colts, that
held possession of an immense straw stack. Rough,
shaggy-looking fellows they were, but with a keen flash in
their eyes, and and a world of strength and life in every
untamed limb. Jimmy watched them with a pleasure that
was new to him. There was something daring and un-
tamed in his heart that. beat in sympathy with the strong
animal life before him, and Mr. Warren recognized it in
the very expression of his face.

“You like horses,” he said, smiling.

“Yes, Sir,” said Jimmy ; “I like these the best of any
Tever saw. They ain’t so nice, either,” he added, and
then paused.

“Nice!” broke in George, indignantly. ‘“TI’d like to
see anybody get a likelier lot of colts than that together.”

“T understand what Jimmy meuns,” said Mr.. Warren.
“Colts need a good deal of training and dressing, to smooth
them up for market; but any one who is used to horses
can tell when the right kind of muscle isinthem. They're
a good deal like boys in that.”


CHAPTER V.
PROGRESS,

R. WALTERS was as busily engaged in his missionary

work among the newsboys as ever; and though he

met with many discouragements, yet now and then he had

the satisfaction of seeing some real good as the result of
his labours.

One day, among his letters he took up one with a
western postmark.

“Shelby, Ohio,” he said, as he opened it; “who can
have written to me out there? ”

He turned, wonderingly, to the signature, and read,
“From your grateful friend, Jimmy Marvin.”

“Dear me,’ said Mr. Walters, with a look of great
satisfaction on his tired face; “so I wasn’t mistaken in
that boy, after all.”

Business letters had to wait, that day, till the last line
of Jimmy’s letter was read.

He told him all about his working his passage to
Cleveland, and then going as train boy until he lost the
place.

“Tt seemed pretty hard to go back to my brushes
again,” wrote Jimmy, “but I remembered bow you used
to tell us nobody need be ashamed of any kind of honest
62 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

work, so I went at it, and did the best I could. It was
good that it ever happened to me, for that’s how I got
acquainted with Mr. Warren, where I live now. He’s a
farmer, but he raises stock on his farm, and he hired me to
help him. I didn’t get much at first, but I’m doing pretty
well now. I’ve learnt most all about farming, and Miss
Ruth, that’s Mr. Warren’s sister, she gives me lessons
every evening. The folks are all kind to me, and Mr.
Warren always says our farm, to George and me, and it
seems as if we-had a share in everything. You ought to
see our colts—there’s forty-six of ’em; and when we turn
“em loose in the pasture, mornings, they set up their heads
and tails and go racing around, and it always makes me
toss up my cap and say ‘hurrah!’ I’ve got some stock
too. Mr. Warren sold me two lambs for a dollar. Their
mother died, and they were such little sickly things,
George was going to kill’em. But I asked Mr. Warren to
let me have ’em, and he laughed, and said I should try
my hand, and if they lived I should pay him a dollar for
‘em. I raised ’em myself, only Miss Ruth helped me; and
I don’t think they ever would have lived, if it hadn’t been
for her. They’re real lively now, and run all about the
farmyard; and George says next year they’ll be worth
five dollars a piece.”

Jimmy closed by sending his love to the boys, and
requesting Mr. Walters to forward the money he had left
in the bank.

On the back of the letter, Mr..Warren had added this
message of his own—
PROGRESS. 63

“ James Marvin is a faithful, industrious, intelligent boy.
I am well pleased with him, and think he is fitting himself
to fill an honourable and useful place in life.”

“That pays for a hundred failures and discourage-
ments,” thought Mr. Walters, as he folded the letter and
laid it away.

And in less than a week Jimmy’s heart was gladdened
by a long letter from his friend in New York, which was
carefully laid away among his treasures.

As the Spring came rapidly on, the work on the farm
increased, and all hands were busily employed. The great
crops of the farm were hay and oats, which were raised as
food for the stock; but there were extensive fields of corn,
and the great garden, with its abundant supply of all kinds
of vegetables. Jimmy found himself deeply interested in the
success of everything, for Mr. Warren very wisely thought
that the only way to make his help really valuable, was to
impress them with the idea that they were all mutually
dependent upon each other, and whatever was for the good
of one was for the good of all. So they came very naturally
to talk and think about “our farm” and “ our crops;” and
Jimmy, especially, seemed to have brought every living
creature about the place into a kind of sympathy with him.
The sheep came to lick salt from his hand, the farm horses
laid their great heads familiarly on his shoulder, and even
the troop of unbroken colts recognised his presence with a
friendly neigh.

A great deal of the garden work fell to Jimmy’s share.
The potatoes, sweet corn, and some of the larger crops,
64 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

were kept clean by a one-horse cultivator, but among the
smaller vegetables was almost daily work for the hand and
hoe. Miss Ruth superintended the garden, so Jimmy
worked under her directions. She soon saw that it was
not quite to his taste, and that she must use a little -
diplomacy about it.

“You see, Jimmy,” she said, as they were transplanting
cabbages, in a fine misty rain, “we all take turns about
the garden. Last year Mrs. Warren and George managed
it; and I can tell you they made a fuss over it. Why,
Mrs. Warren was so proud of her beets she would scarcely
let us pull any to eat, because it spoilt the rows; and if we
wanted any cabbage, we had to slip off a head when George
was out of the way, and hide the stump. I just thought
we'd show ’em, this year, that other folks could do as
much as they did; and I believe we shall beat them
completely.”

That was enough for Jimmy. It was our garden, now,
and instead of simply helping Miss Ruth, he was an inde-
pendent gardener with Miss Ruth for counsel.

In haying and harvesting, there came a troop of day
labourers to the farm, and two stout servants to the house,
and the great work of the season was made more a frolic
than toilsome work. For the rest of the season, George and
Jimmy, with Mr. Warren to aid and direct, kept everything
in working order, though many a farmer wondered how
Mr. Warren managed to “run his farm with so little help.”
The secret was partly in the help themselves,—for intelli-
gent labour is worth twice a8 much as mere ignorant
PROGRESS. 65

strength,—but a great deal more in the perfect system
with which all the work was arranged, so that no time
went to waste, and the workers did not interfere with each
other.












































CHAPTER VI.
SCHOOLING.

3 HEN winter came, Mr. Warren propused to Jimmy

that he should go to school for four months; and
Jimmy was very glad of the chance. But, to his great
surprise, Mr. Warren decided that he had better attend the
academy.

“ Not because I think you could not learn a great deal
in the public school, but at the academy you can come and
go when you please, and we can arrange for you te come
home early enough to help George through with the even-
ing work.”

So Jimmy was regularly admitted as a pupil at the
academy ; at first he felt strange and awkward, when he
found himself among a set of boys and girls who were
rather disposed to look down upon the new comer.

“‘ He’s only a hired boy at Mr. Warren’s,” said a pretty
little simpleton, loudly enough for Jimmy to hear her. “I
don’t see what he wants to come here for.”

Jimmy didn’t know that the little simpleton’s father
had been “only a hired boy” for a great many years of
his life; but he had enough good sense not to feel at all
ashamed of himself or his work, though he did not relish
being laughed at, any better than other boys do.
SCHOOLING. 67

So he felt a good deal relieved, when he heard the
teacher say to the little lady,

“T’m only a hired man myself, and I don’t see but it’s
just as honourable to be paid for feeding sheep as for train-
ing a lot of young—”

“Say a lot of young donkeys, Mr. Latimer,” inter-
rupted a merry girl; “ that’s what we are, anyhow.”

There was just a suspicion in Mr. Latimer’s mind, that
the merry girl chose to call herself a donkey, for the sake
of including her young companion; but he only smiled
good-naturedly at them both, and walked away with Jimmy.
The few words of quiet encouragement, which he found
opportunity to say to him before he left him, did Jimmy a
world of good.

‘“‘J’m always glad when I see a boy trying to push his
way in the world, especially if he has a good deal to con-
tend with, and not very much to help him. I’ve been
through it all myself. I’ve been a poor boy, and I’m a
poor man now, but I’m getting on a little every year.”

“There’s another of ’em,” thought Jimmy, as Mr.
Latimer turned away; “I’d no idea there were so many
poor boys in the world; and seems to me the poor ones
have the best of it, after all.”

“ How d’ye like it up to the ’cademy ?” asked George,
as they tossed down the hay to the horses.

“Pretty well,” said Jimmy. “ At least I shall like it
when I get fairly started, I guess.”

Mr. Warren drove up to the house before their work
was done, and called Jimmy to take Miss Ruth out to

: E2
68 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

spend the evening with a friend a few milesaway. Jimmy
loved driving, and he loved to do anything for Miss Ruth,
and so did every one else about the premises; only it
seemed, for some reason that Miss Ruth found fifty ways
of helping and pleasing others, while they seldom could
tind out any need of hers.

The family where she was going were plain, old-
fashioned Quakers, and had been early friends and neigh-
bours of the Warrens, in Pennsylvania. One daughter
had married and died in New York, and her only child, a
pretty girl of fourteen, spent nearly half her time with her
grandparents, in Ohio.

Old Mrs. Harmon greeted Miss Ruth and Jimmy with
the same quiet, cordial tones, and took them both into the
same great sitting-room, with its plain, neat furniture, and
great, open fire that filled the low walls with a warm glow.
Jimmy found two of his schoolmates here; one an odd-
looking boy, a little younger than himself, dressed in a
complete suit of drab of the clumsiest make, and with his
thick, black hair cut squarely around his head.

“James,” said Mrs. Harmon, “ this is Hezekiah Benson.
Thee remembers his mother, Ruth. She was Mary Read
—a worthy woman, but the Lord has afHicted her sorely.
Hezekiah is a good lad, and means to take care of Mary,
some day.

The good woman nodded approvingly at the homely
boy, anid sat down again to her knitting ; and Jimmy looked
at him with a sudden feeling of envy—it seemed to him
it must be so pleasant to do something for one’s mother,
SCHOOLING. 69

and to look forward to being able to support her, by and
by.

Mrs. Harmon’s grandchild, Nelly Curtis, was also there
and Jimmy recognised her as one of the girls whose face
had attracted his attention at the academy. He remem-
bered the remarks one of the group had made, and felt a
little uncomfortable at first, but Nelly was bent upon
setting him at his ease, and the three were soon deep in
the study of a new historical game which Nelly had
brought with her from New York. Miss Ruth left her
corner to join them; and if Jimmy had felt disposed to
exult over George that evening, he was soon put to con-
fasion by finding that the homely little Hezekiah was
thoroughly acquainted with events and characters of which
he-had not even heard.

Jimmy blundered on for a while, and then, when
Hezekiah said, innocently, as if half ashamed of prompting
him,

“Why, the Magna Charta, thee knows; King John had
to grant it to the English to save his crown.”

“No, I don’t know,” said Jimmy, frankly. “I don’t
know much about any history but our own, and only a
little about that.”

Hezekiah blushed up to his eyes, and said, in a tone of
apology,

“Tm sure it’s no matter; thee knows a great deal
more than I do, only I learned to read in a book of
English history, and that’s how I happen to know. Nelly
can tell thee I’m a real stupid in grammar.”
70 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“He isn’t a stupid in anything,” said Nelly, with a .
bright smile; “ only I don’t think he takes to grammar
naturally. I never could make him really see the differ-
ence between active and passive.”

“T should like to know what I learned to read in,”
said Jimmy. “TI believe I must have picked it up a little
at a time for several years. I know I never was set at it
regularly, till I went to evening school at the Newsboys’
Home.”

“Where was that? ” asked Nelly.

“In New York—I was a newsboy there.”

“Were yoo? Why, I live there myself,” said Nelly ;
“‘T mean, papa lives there, and I stay half the time with
him, and the rest with grandmother. He’s away this
winter, but I generally come here in summer.”

“TJ shouldn’t think you’d ever want to go back,” said
Miss Ruth; “only, of course, you want to see your father.”

“T don’t know,” said Nelly; “somehow I like New
York. There’s so much stir and bustle. Everybody seems
so busy, and out here they don’t do very much. I don’t
like to work so very well myself, but I like to bein the
whirl, when other people do.”

“Thee isn’t an idle child, Ellen,” said Mrs. Harmon,
affectionately.

“ Not with. thee, grandmother; but when at home I’m
afraid Iam. Grandmother looks out for me, though,” she
said to Miss Ruth; “she writes me splendid letters, and
sends me nice, little illuminated cards to put in my books
and fasten up in my room. I carried onein my French
SOHOOLING. 71

Reader for six months,—you know I hate French,—but I
finally lost it in the street.”

“Did it say ‘The hand of the diligent maketh rich’ ?”
asked Jimmy, eagerly.

“That was the very one,” said Nellie, wonderingly.

“ How should you know anything about it?”
“You lost it getting into an omnibus,” he went on; “I
saw you drop it, and I picked it up. I was sweeping the
crossing. I’ve got it now, at home. You don’t know how
much it has helped me.”

“How strange,” said Nelly, after a moment of silent
astonishment; but her grandmother repeated in her clear,
low voice—

“A man’s heart deviseth his way; but the Lord
directeth his steps.”

This strange little incident inspired all with a new
interest in Jimmy ; and when he left them, Mrs. Harmon
gave him a most cordial invitation to visit them often.


CHAPTER VII.
NEW PLANS.
\ X J must now pass over several years of Jimmy’s life,

and look at him again when he is eighteen years
old. We shall find him still at Mr. Warren’s, where he
has come to séem so much like one of the family, that they
would almost as soon think of sending away the dear old
grandmother herself, as “ Our James.” He is a strong,
well-built lad, not very tall but active and sinewy, and with’
the same keen eye and intelligent face which first attracted
Miss Fielding’s attention when he stood by the crossing in
New York.

George, the man that Jimmy found on the farm when

he came, is married, and Jimmy has taken his place as
- Superintendent of the farm in Shelby; and, in spite of his
youth, Mr. Warren declares the farm was never so well
managed. Nobody laughs at Mr. Warren’s “hired boy ”
now, for he is gentlemanly and well-informed, and has no
need to feel ashamed in the presence of any of his young
companions.

One evening he received a letter from his friend
George, very awkwardly written and badly spelled, but
full of kindly interest in him and his plans. The principal
item, however, was a matter of business :

“Sairy and me send our respects to Mr. Warren; and
NEW PLANS. 73

tell him if he has any loose cash to invest, which is sure to
bring good profits, my advice goes for to put it into a
sheep farmup here. It’s land that jines me on the east and
‘jest the prettiest bit in all the country; nice creek run-
ning acrost it; timber and all handy. There’s a dre’dful
sickly chap been foolin’ along with it for a spell, but he’s
about done up with the shakes and the rheumatiz, and
he’d jump at a chance to sell, ef he wa’n’t too shif’less to
jump at anything. He ain’t half so much ’count as his
sheep; they can jump, you may be sure—don’t a soul of
em know what a fence is for. I only wish’t I had money
to buy the farm myself, only I couldn’t run two farms.”

Then followed a description of the farm, giving its size
and exact location. Jimmy read the letter and handed it
to Mr. Warren, half smiling at the idea that he should buy
a farm so far away. Mr. Warren, read it all through,
attentively, laughing heartily at the message to his wife:
“make my respects to Mrs. Warren, and tell her my Sairy
can make apple dumplin’s to beat any livin’ woman ’cept
Miss Ruth.”

“Bring me the atlas, James,” said Mr. Warren, slowly
folding the letter.

The atlas was brought, and the wonderful sheep farm
traced out on the map of Iowa.

“Tt must be about here,” said Mr. Warren. “ George’s
farm lies on this creek; here’s his post-office town ; and
the farm is east of him. It’s a fine location. This rail-
road will come through there, somewhere, in few years.”

Jimmy went back to his book, and Mr. Warren at
74 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

silently watching the fire that glowed and sparkled in the
grate. He said no more about the farm for several days.
But one morning, when Jimmy was out in the garden.
laying down some choice grape-vines to protect them
through the winter, Mr. Warren came out and stood by
him, as if watching the operation.

“Tf Lester comes for those colts,” he said presently,
“you can let him have them. I’m going away for a few
days.”

“ Yes, Sir,” said Jimmy.

“T’m going to Iowa. The fact is, I can’t quite get that
farm out of my mind, and I’m going to see it. If I find
it as George says, I shall buy it.”

Jimmy stopped his work to straighten up, and looked
Mr. Warren in the face with a puzzled expression. lt
seemed to him a strange investment of money, but he did
not feel as if is would be respectful to express his opinion.

“You don’t understand it exactly,’ said Mr. Warren,
smiling, but looking troubled after all. ‘ Well, James, I
mean to give you a fair chance in the world, and I can’t
do what I’d like for you here. My boys are growing up,
and I must let them take matters here in hand, pretty
soon, IfI buy that Iowa farm, I shall want to put you
on it.”

“Me!” exclaimed Jimmy, in a bewildered way.

“Yes. I’m sure you could manage it. “I'll stock it

or you, and you may farm it on shares till you get able to
buy it, and then you may have it for just what it costs me
now.”
NEW PLANS. 75

Mr. Warren paused, and Jimmy thought he must be
dreaming, he felt so strangely bewildered.

“ Of course I shall miss you here; you've been a good,
faithful boy to me, Jimmy, and I’ve always been glad that
you and I were brought together.”

Jimmy tried to say how thankful he felt for all the
kindness he had met with in the family, but the words
seemed to mix up strangely in his throat, and presently he
broke down altogether.

“Well, well,” said Mr. Warren, shaking his hand
heartily, ‘‘ we won’t say anything more about this until I
come back. MaybeI shan’t like the farm well enough to
buy it, after all.”

While Mr. Warren was away, Jimmy went about the
farm in a kind of feverish excitement. He had never
realised before, how strong was his interest in everything,
and how hard it would be to part with the very least
of them. But then to go to that wonderful western
country; to be an independent farmer, managing his
own business, and by and by actually owning one of those
splendid farms! It seemed almost too bright a dream to
come true.

“T won’t think so much about it; for, after all, Mr.
Warren may not buy it. But then George is a good judge
of farms, and he knows just what Mr. Warren likes. If
he does buy it, I’ll show him that he hasn’t taken so much
pains with me for nothing.”

Half an hour before the train came in, on the evening
that Mr. Warren was expected home, Jimmy hitched the
76 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

grey horses behind the station, and walked restlessly up
and down the platform.

Mr. Warren greeted him heartily, and asked a great
many questions about home, as they drove along; but
neither of them said a word about the farm. But as they
rode silently into the yard, watching once more the cheer-
ful light shining far out from the windows, Mr. Warren
said, briefly,

“Well, James, it’s all settled. I’ve bought the farm.”

Jimmy’s heart gave one quick bound, and then for a
few moments he felt almost sad, as if he were already
bidding good-bye to what was dearest. As he put away
the horses, Miss Ruth’s favourite chestnut, Prince Charley,
put his head ont of his stall with a neigh of recognition.
Jimmy stopped to stroke his glossy neck, and could not
help saying,

“Good-bye, old Charley; you and I were rough colts
together, five years ago. I wonder if my training has done
as much for me as yours has for you.”

It was plain enough that all the family knew that
Jimmy was to leave them, though for a few days no one
said much about it. Arthur, the oldest boy, was the first
to speak of it in the family circle:

“T shall be the farmer now,” he said, proudly, as they
sat around the fire one evening. “I’m most as old as
Jimmy was when he came here first.”

“O, Jimmy!” said little Alice, “I’m making you two
pincushions, one to carry in your pocket, and one to put
in your room; and when we go the store, Aunt Ruth is
NEW PLANS. 77

going to get me some beads to make a watch-case, like
papa’s. O,I forgot! that’s a secret; but you won’t tell
anybody, will you, Jimmy ?”

Aunt Ruth looked a little bit annoyed, but the laugh
that followed helped to pass it all off; and then they all
began to discuss what they should do when Jimmy was
gone, and what Jimmy would do away from them.

“You'll board with George for the first year,” said
Mr. Warren. “ After that, you may be able to get a man
and his wife to go into the house, and help you on the
farm. I depend a great deal on your having George to
advise you. He has good sound common sense, and under-
stands farming thoroughly.”

“And Sairy can make such apple dumplin’s,” said
Arthur, roguishly ; ‘ couldn’t you manage to express a few
to me?”

“T’m learnin’ to make dumplin’s, my own self,” said
Alice. “I peeled the apples the last time, and some time,
when I know everything, P’ll come myself, and keep house
for you, Jimmy.”

‘“‘And you can have a little crooked pole, and sit out in
the fields watching the sheep, like the shepberdess in my
picture,” said Frank.

The long evenings of that winter seemed fairly to fly
away. Almost every one of the family had some work on
hand which was to add to Jimmy’s comfort or pleasure on
the far-away farm—“ Jimmy’s farm,” as they all called it.
The pretty watch-case was secretly finished, but it made
its appearance one new year’s day to hold a good, sub-
73 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

stantial silver watch, which Miss Ruth bought as a present
for Jimmy. As for Jimmy himself, his evenings were
nearly all spent in studying practical books on the manage-
ment of stock, and talking with Mr. Warren, whose own

experience was invaluable to him.




















CHAPTER VIII.
_ LEAVING HOME.

aoe journey to Iowa was a great event in his
history. When he started alone from New York in
search of his fortune, he was only like a bit of drift-wood,
tossed about on the water, not knowing at all where it
might carry him, or whether it would land him in a pleasant
harbour or on a Cesert island. But now he went out like a
strong ship, with a cargo carefully stored, anda steady
hand at the helm. On this great ocean of life, no one can
know but that storm and shipwreck await him ; but Jimmy
meant to meet whatever came, with a resolute heart, and
trust in God to guide him safely through.

Asthe train went rushing away through the darkness, for
he started at evening, hecould not help thinking of that other
journey, and contrasting it with this one. Then he
carried all his worldly possessions in the little tin trunk in
his hand. Now he remembered the well-filled trunk in the
baggage car, which loving hands had packed so carefully,
and where every one, from the dear old grandmother to
the baby Carrie, had put something which was to remind
him pleasantly of the home he had left. By his side was
the satchel, where Mrs. Warren had stored an abundant
lunch, and in one corner a little bundle of cakes which
80 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

Alice had put in, with the charge to give them to all. the
poor children he saw.

““There’s no one here to eat them,” he thought, as he
glanced through the handsome car at the various groups
that filled it.

On and on rattled the train, and the tired passengers
settled themselves as comfortably as possible for the long
night ride, for there were no sleeping cars on the train.
At first Jimmy did not feel at all disposed to sleep;
he had too many new.and strange things to think
about. By-and-by, however, he began to doze and dream
of his new home in Iowa, and the old one he had just
left.

When the uncertain light of the early morning began
to rouse the passengers, they were all hurried out of the
train by the order to change cars. Jimmy took up his
satchel, and was just passing out, when he noticed a poor
woman who was trying to make her way through the
crowd, with one little child in her arms, and another
clinging to her dress, while she was loaded down with
bags and baskets.

“Let me help you,” he said, kindly, taking one of her
baskets, and lifting the little, struggling child out of the
crowd that half crushed it.

The mother thanked him gratefully, and he left them
in the sitting-room of the depét to wait for their train,
while be hastened to find his own, which was rapidly
filling. There was no lack of children in this day’s ride,
and Alice’s paper of cakes was in great demand.
LEAVING HOME. 1

“Black your boots, Mister!” called the ragged little
urchins, as they crowded around the passengers at every
change of cars.

“How queer it seems,” thought Jimmy, smiling, to
himself. “TI suppose I used to look just so. I should like
to know just how Mr. Warren felt, when I was blacking
his boots. I mean to try it.”

There were fifteen minutes to spare, so Jimmy put his
foot on the block of a keen-looking little fellow, who was
loud in his offers to every one who looked at him, to “ black
your boots for a dime, Mister!”

The boy went to work with a will, and Jimmy looked
down at him, curiously.

George was waiting for him at the depédt, when he
reached his journey’s end. He gave hima hearty welcome,
eyeing him from head to foot, with a look of the greatest
satisfaction.

“Td have known you anywheres,” he declared at last;
“but I must say you’ve shot up amazin’ since I first set eyes
on you. I’ve thought abont it often and often—that first
night you come out with Mr. Warren. You had a kind of
wild look out of your eyes, like a colt that ain’t broke in;
I always liked that look in a boy or a critter; just handle
’em right and they come out tip top.”

It was a long ride out to the farm, but George had a
great deal to tell of his plans for himself and for Jimmy,
and the time passed away quickly enough. There was the
route of the new railroad to point out; the place where the
steam saw-mill was to be bnilt; and all the other improve-

F
&2 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

ments which were to make of Iowa a very garden of
beauty and delight.

““There’s your farm,” he said, at last. “It skirts
along by that strip of timber, and comes down to where
you see the smoke over that little hammock. That’s the
smoke of my chimney, and Sairy’s there by the winder
watchin’ for us, I’llbe bound. She’sa stunner of a woman,
Sairy is.”

George cracked his whip with complete satisfaction,
but Jimmy was too much engaged in examining his farm
to care much what kind of a womana “ stunner ” might be.
There it lay, only a mile or so off—his farm—the mire
in which his fortune lay. He decided in a minute that
he had seen no such land as that in all his journey from
Ohio.

“ The house is right over there,” said George, following
Jimmy’s eyes, ‘‘ but there ain’t any smoke to mark it, and
it’s getting dusk. ‘The folks moved away last week—went
back to Varmount, or somewhere thereabonts, and they'll
disoust all their relations, tellin’ them what a mis’able
country it is up west. I'd like to see a country where
such shif’less, no account trash could make a livin’, unless
cattle growed on thorn bushes, and crops come up all
ready for eatin’. Tell you what, Jimmy, I don’t make
any doubt it was a bad thing that Adam got druv out of
the Garden, but somehow it never seemed to me I should
relish havin’ everything fixed up and sweetened ready to
my hand. I believe the Lord must have meaut us to get
some good out of the curse, after all, for there’s nothing











































































































































































































































































































































LEAVING HOME. 85

ever made me feel better than right-down, solid, hard
work. Makes a man feel kind of honourable as if he had a
right to what he ate.”

George’s home was a plain, substantial farmhouse,
not yet completed, but built after a western fashion, while
timber, ready for building, was dear and scarcely to be
obtained. They had finished offa large wing, containing
the kitchen and two chambers, and the rest of the house
was waiting for the money to grow out of the fertile
ground, in the shape of abundant harvests. “Sairy”” was
ready for them, with a plentiful supper, which justified her
husband’s pride in her housekeeping skill ; and after along
talk over all that had happened in the old home in Ohio,
Jimmy was shown to the great, bare chamber, which was
to be his for the next year.

Jimmy unlocked his trunk and began to unpack it.
There were books, old friends and new ones—and he filled
the great, empty mantle-piece with a substantial row of
them. There was the pretty watch-case, wrought by Alice’s
loving little hands; and he looked at the smooth, white
walls, in some doubt whether the model housekeeper would
allow of any nails being driven into them. There was the
noisy little alarm clock, that had ticked off so many hours
for him ; he would make a pretty shelf for that: and the
beautiful engraving of the “ Valley of Peace” he would
fasten to the wall on the morrow.

Little Carrie had insisted upon giving him her own
china mug, with its painted roses encircling the motto,
“ For a good girl.”
86 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“Ttll make a nice shaving mug, you know, Jimmy,”
suggested Arthur, mischievously.

“It won’t look so bad, after all,” thought Jimmy,
surveying the room, when he had scattered his pretty keep-
sakes over it. He had alarge card, beautifully illuminated.
in his hand, bearing the familiar words,

“ The hand of the diligent maketh rich.”

“Not slothful im business; fervent in spirit; serving the
Lord!”

Good old. Mrs. Harmon had given it to him as her
parting gift.

“Thee must hang it up in thy new home, friend James,”
she said, “‘ where thee can see it every day.”

“Tl put it right here for to-night,” thought Jimmy,
hanging it on one of the high posts of the bed, “ then I
shall see it as soon as I wake.”

That first verse always carried Jimmy straight back to
the old days when he first spelled out the wonderfu!}
promise on the muddy crossing in New York, and he
never could wonder enough at the strange ways by which
he had been led.

“T have been led, I am sure of that,’ he reflected ;
“just as sure as if I could see the Hand that has led me.
Nothing ever happened by chance to me, but the Lord has
guided me just exactly as Mr. Walters said He would—
just as I believe He guides everybody that wants Him to
do it.”

The new verse came to him like acommand and an en-
couragement from the great unseen Leader whose voice he
LEAVING HOME. 87

followed. He saw, as he had never seen before, how one
might. truly serve the Lord by doing faithfully and diligently
the daily work of life to which he was called, and living a
humble, earnest, unselfish life, wherever he might be
placed.

“‘T can do that for His service—any one can do that,”’
he thought; and then, thinking of the old and the new, of
the days that had been and of those that might be, he felt
asleep.


CHAPTER IX.
MISSIONARY WORK.

IMMY had been in Iowa about two weeks. With the
help of a stout man, he had been very busy, repairing
fences and putting the barns in order, adding to one of them
a long shed for the sheep, which had been accustomed to
huddle around the great straw stacks, with no shelter
from the severest storms. The shed wasa rude affair, and
didn’t at all suit Jimmy, but carpenters were not to be
hired, and George assured him it would do very well.

“*Twon’t do to put old Fowler’s sheep into too good
quarters all to onct; they’d die of astonishment, mosi
likely ; they’re used to keepin’ warm by exercisin’.”’

One morning, when Jimmy went over to the house, he
was surprised to see the smoke issuing from the kitchen
chimney. He looked in at the window, and saw a ragged
little boy, about fourteen years old, sitting on the floor
among some old clothes, eating his breakfast, and warming
himself by the fire that he had kindled in the old cooking
stove. Jimmy watched him a minute, and then took the
key from his pocket and quietly opened the door. The
boy looked up at him without showing any astonishment,
but gave him a familiar nod, and said,

“ Mornin’, boss.”’
MISSIONARY WORK. 89

“Good morning,” said Jimmy, not knowing exactly
what to say. ‘

“ Staid out pretty late, last night, didn’t you ?”’ said the
boy ; ‘‘didn’t seem to be anybody to home when Icameby last
night, so I jest histed a winder and stepped in, and made
myself comf’table.”’

“Where are you going?” asked Jimmy.

““Nowheres in partic’lar; I’m lookin’ for a place to
locate. Istopped a while with a feller down the river a
piece, but we had a fallin’ out, and I left. Want to hire a
hand?”

“For what?” asked Jimmy, a good deal amused.
“What can youdo? Do you know anything about farm
work P”

‘Well, no,’’ said the boy, eyeing him from head to foot.
“T can’t really say as I’m quite posted, but ’taint no great
things to learn. I reckon I can get the hang of a sheep
pretty quick.”

‘Where do you live?” asked Jimmy.

“ Anywheres at all; just where I kin find a place.”

“But where did you come from, last night, and where
were you going to?”

“Trav’lin’, boss, trav’lin’.” Then giving Jimmy a
sharp look, he added, “ You needn’t be so partic’lar “bout
knowin’ ; there ain’t no reward offered for me. [ll be
bound they was glad to get ridof me.”

“He's run away from somewhere,” thought Jimmy.
“T wish I could do something for him, but I don’t see
how.”
90 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

’

“Pll work for my vittles and clothes,” said the boy,
who seemed to read Jimmy’s thoughts in his face.

“T’ve a great mind to try you; but then there’s no
place for you to sleep; Sarah wouldn’t have you at ihe
house, I know.”’

“Never mind Sairy,” said the boy, saucily; “I'll sleep
in the barn.”

“‘ Well, come out of here now; I don’t want my house
burned up; I'll talk to George about it.”

The boy gathered up his bundle of rags, and followed
Jimmy, whistling merrily.

George was at work near by, and Jimmy went straight
to find him.

“George,” he began, “ didn’t you say a stout boy of
fourteen or fifteen was just the extra help we needed
now?”

“Exactly,” said George ; “ but I know every farmer for
twenty mile around, and there ain’t such an article to be
had.”

“Tve got a boy out here; I don’t feel sure that he'll
do, but if we could try him—~” said Jimmy, hesitating.

George looked up in astonishment, and then laid down
his shovel and walked afew steps to where the boy was
leaning over the fence.

“How are ye, old chap?” said the boy.

George took no notice of his question, but looked him
steadily in the face.

“You’re a runaway,” he said, presently. “I saw you
up at Mr, Nettleton’s, a couple of weeks ago ”
MISSIONARY WORK. 91

“ Better send him along,” said George to Jimmy.

“ What kind ofa manis Mr. Nettleton? ” asked Jimmy.

“ He’s a hard old skinflint—a regular miser.” -

“See here,” said the boy, more civilly, “you might
give a feller a chance. I come outo’ jail, when the old
man up yonder took me, and I’da heap sooner be locked up
agin’ than to live with him. Hard work, and cuffs, aud
nothin’ decent to eat.”

“That’s so,” said George, musingly; I staid there
once to dinner. Ifmy Sairy was such a mean cook, |
believe I’d run away too.”

“T should like to try him, if you think it’ll do,” said
Jimmy. ‘You see, George, I can’t help remembering how
much has been done for me, and how people were kind to
me when I was no better than he is.”

“You never was such a little villain as that, I’ll be
bound for you,” said George, indignantly. “But if he’ll
sleep in the barn, I reckon Sairy’ll give him his meals.
It’s most April now, and he’ll do comfortable enough on
the hay witha blanket or two.”

So Jimmy agreed with the boy that he was to havea
fair trial, and if he did well, was to receive regular wage-,
—whatever he could fairly earn. He seemed well pleased
with the arrangement, and took up his quarters in the barn
with a great deal of satisfaction.

George and Sarah watched him with much distrust, and
even Jimmy felt that he could not quite trust him; but he
seemed to learn the ways of the farm readily, and Jimmy
spent a great deal of time in teaching him to read and
92 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

write, and trying to train him to respectability. He said
over and over, to himself, when he was almost discouraged,
‘“‘He’s no worse than I was—they all had patience with
me, and the Lord cares for him just the same as He does
for any one else.” Yet, in spite of all, he could not help
feeling that the boy was not like him, and that he did not
honestly wish to do right and be a good, true man in the
world

‘“‘There’s another of my chickens gone,” said Sarah, as
she opened her poultry house one morning. “It does
beat all. I don’t see how anything can catch ’em without
getting into that trap.”

Jimmy said nothing, but he went out and examined the
house. For several weeks the chickens had been dis-
appearing, and all the traps they could set failed to catch
the thief. That night there had been a light rain, and
Jimmy thought he saw the prints of bare feet around the
chicken house, but he could not be quite confident.

“Mighty queer ’bout them chickens, ain’t it?” said
the boy whom he had hired, coming up and peeping into
the coop.

“Not very,” said Jimmy, giving him a keen look; “I
think I understand about it pretty well.”

Jo tossed his hoe over his shoulder and went out to his
work, Jimmy set a simple trap by the door of the
chicken coop, but did not trouble himself to watch it for a
day or two. But there was one thing he did watch, and
that was Jo; and when he began to see some mysterious
movements on his part, he paid a visit to his sleeping room
MISSIONARY WORK. 93

in the hay, and found a quantity of fishing lines and hooks,
and a tin box of matches, carefully hidden away.

“QO ho! my fine fellow,’ said Jimmy, “you'll be
burning us all up, some of these nights.”

He took out his knife and shaved off the ends of the
matches carefully and smoothly, and then put them hack
in their hiding-place.

That night Jo declared he was ‘‘clear beat out,’ and
crawled away to his nest earlier than usual. Jimmy went
to his room, too, but as soon as the family were in bed he
took up his watch at the little back window, which looked
towards the barn. By and by a dusky figure came slowly
out from the stable door, and took its way towards the
chicken house.

“ Just as I expected,” said Jimmy, nodding to himself;
“that’s Jo—and I shall have to let him get another
chicken before I can trap him.”

He crept down the stairs just in time to see him reach
his arm into the chicken house, and grasp a chicken so
adroitly that it had only time for a short, half-smothered
cry, that hardly disturbed its mates at all. When the
chicken was secured, Master Jo gathered up several
other articles from the barn, and started across the corn-
field.

“ He’s going to the river to fish,” thought Jimmy. “I
wonder if he can have any companions.”’

Watching him a moment to make sure of his course, he
went quietly back and awakened George, by a rap at his
window.
94 TNE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

““Y’ve got track of the thief,” he whispered; “dress
yourself as quick as you can, and come out.”’

George came out in a moment.

“Hark!” said George, ‘that’s Jo’s whistle, up among
the brush; I’ve heard him call the cows that way. Why
don’t he light up, I wonder?”

SSE don’t believe his matches work first ete said
Jimmy. “I fixed ’em for him.”

Presently they saw Jo come down from the brush
and join a boy with a lantern, and the two moved rapidly
on toward the river, where some boys were already
fishing.

As soon as they were busy at their sport, (Geoige and
Jimmy crept nearer, and soon learned all about the
mysterious disappearance of the chickens. The boys were
from a small settlement up the river, and had been in the
habit of coming down there to fish every few days, stealing
chickens wherever they could lay their hands on them,
and broiling them for a midnight feast. They seemed to
have very good success at their fishing, but Jimmy could
hardly persuade George to keep still till they were ready
to light their fire.

The boys presently came up into a little sheltered
hollow, and lighted their fire. Jimmy could hardly help
laughing, to see Jo try match after match from his box,
until he finally threw them down in disgust. Then he
produced the chicken, and began to strip off the feathers.

The roasting and broiling went on finely, and the
savoury odour of the chicken began to reack the watchers,











































MISSIONARY WORK. 97

“Smells nice, don’t it?” said George. “I'll be pourd
they sha’n’t get a bite of it.”

After a moment of consultation, the two rushed foward
with a shout that would have done credit to a couple of
Indians. George made directly for Jo, and held him to
the ground with his great foot. The others came to
quarter at once, and made no attempt to get away. They
were made to tell their names, and pretty severely
threatened, and then allowed to depart; but George
brought Jo to his feet with a vigorous shake, and began to
march him toward home. At first the boy pretended to
feel quite jolly over it, begging Jimmy to go back for that
prime topknot, and not leave it for the skunks to eat, after
all the trouble he had taken with it. “Jest done to a
turn,” he added, with a sly glance at George.

“T’ll do you to a turn,” said George, with a jerk at his
collar; “Tl teach you to steal topknots.”

When they reached home George marched his prisoner
to the barn.

“What are you going to do?” asked Jimmy.

“Goin’ to take my pay for the topknot, and all the
rest of my chickens the little vagabond has stole. Goin’
to give him the worst whippin’ he ever got in his
life.”

“Pitch in, old feller,” said the boy, with a grin.

“Do you think that’s the best thing to do?” asked
Jimmy, anxiously.

“T know ’tis,” said George, confidently ; “anyhow I’m
goin’ to try it. “T'won’t do me any good to send the little

G
98 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

sneak to jail, and I'll be bound he’ll be far enough away
before morning.”

Jimmy felt very much like going away, but on the
whole he felt bound to see the matter fairly through; and

‘in his secret heart he could not help a little feeling of
respect for the unconcern with which Jo took his whipping.
It seemed a pity not to turn so much endurance to good
account,

“There,” said George, taking up his gun and coat,
“T’ve settled my account with you, and now you can take
yourself where you please.”

“He'll set your barn on fire before morning, like as
any way,” said. Jimmy.

“That’s so,” said George; “might lock him up in the
smoke-house.”

“Tl take him up to my room,” said Jimmy. And
without another word he bade Jo bring his blankets from
the hay, and come with him. Jo obeyed in silent wonder.

“Now then,” said Jimmy, as he turned the key in the
door, “T’ll fix you a bed in this corner, and you can rest
comfortably till morning. You must be very sore and
tired, and you'll have to go early in the morning.”

Jo looked on while Jimmy arranged his bed as well as
he could on the floor, and then sat down upon it and began
to look around the room and watch Jimmy.

“Vm lame enough,” he said, at last, throwing off the
thin coat which Jimmy had given him only a few days
before,

“Yes,” said Jimmy, “and it’s a pity you should begin
MISSIONARY WORK. 99

a wandering life again. I really thought you were going
to do something for yourself. I’m sorry for you, Jo.”

“T don’t see why you care,” said Jo, leaning his elbows
on his knees, and looking earnestly at Jimmy; “’tain’t
nothin’ to you what becomes of me.”

“O yes, it is; it’s something to everybody,” began
Jimmy, then stopped, feeling that the boy couldn’t under-
stand that. ‘Ido care what becomes of you. I’ve tried
hard to help you and make you want to be a good boy. I
remember that if somebody hadn’t done this for me, I
shouldn’t have been any better than you are, and I’m sorry
for you, Jo.”

Jo rolled up his sleeve and began to examine the red
marks George had left on his arm.

“You can have me locked up, you and the other feller,”
he said, at last.

“But we don’t want to. If I thought you were really
sorry, Jo, and would be an honest boy, I’d try you again.
I mean if I cowld, though George wouldn’t have you here,
I'm afraid.”

“No more J wouldn’t stay. I’m obliged to ye; but
you're the first feller that ever cared what become of
me.”

The boy looked at Jimmy as if greatly puzzled to
account for his interest.

“This ’ere’s a mighty nice room,” he said, examining
it; “your father buy you them picters and things?”

“T haven’t any father or mother; they died before I can

remember.”
G2
100 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“No more hain’t I,” said Jo; “sometimes I wish’t I
had.”

“But I’ve had plenty of kind friends, and I’ve got a
Father in heaven. He’s always helped me, and He’s
ready to help anybody in the world. He’ll help you, Jo.”

Jo looked for a moment wistfully at Jimmy, as if he
half wished somebody would help him, and then he said,

‘‘T reckon he don’t trouble Hisself much about my
business. There’s a heap such as me in the world, and
wuss, too; and nobody don’t seem put out by ’em.”

Jimmy felt in his heart how true it all was, and how
little one could do, after all, with so much sin and misery.
Bnt, looking at the forlorn little heap there in the corner,
he suddenly remembered a lesson that had come to him
only a few days before.

“ Jo,” said he, earnestly, “don’t you remember, when
ve hunted over the farm for those ugly burrs that get stuck
in the sheep’s wool, how we cut down all we could find on
both sides of the fence P Because one weed will scatter seed
over an acre of good ground.”

“Yes, [ remember,” said Jo, stupidly.

“Well, that’s the way we have to do for each other, all
ofus. IfI don’t pull up the weeds in your field, they’ll
scatter bad seed into mine, and so I shall get punished for
my neglect. I wish I could help you to pull up the weeds,
Jo. Ireally believe you might make a good man yet, if
you’d only try.”

“Maybe,” said Jo, doubtfully; “anyhow, I’m glad if
you care. I didn’t s’pose anybody really cared what
MISSIONARY WORK. 101

became of me. If I was to go clean out of this and take a
new start somewheres, it'll be because you cared about it.
Maybe I will.”

Jo curled up in his blankets, and Jimmy prayed the
good Lord to strengthen his heart, and give him wisdom to
do his part of the work, though it was ever-so little. He
meant to have watched his little prisoner, but very soon he
fell asleep, and when he awoke in the early morning, lie
found him tying up his few possessions, ready for a start.

“You must not go without your breakfast, Jo,” he
said.

Jo felt stiff, and a little sober.

“They won’t give me none,” he replied, gruffly.

“O yes, they will! Tll go down and see.” And
Jimmy soon came back, bringing a substantial breakfast
for the boy, and a lunch for his pocket ; for Sarah’s tender
heart had relented at hearing of the whipping he had
received,

“Tt would only be tempting him to evil, to send him
off hungry,” she said. “Tell him J don’t bear him any ill
will, and I hope this will be a lesson to him.”

“You needn’t look to hear no great things of me,”’ said
the boy ; “ but I’m glad I know you care. It’s a heap easier,
when anybody cares.”

Jimmy stood by the road and watched the little waif
start out anew on his wanderings. Rather soberly at first,
but soon, shouldering his bundle, he began to whistle as

‘merrily as if he were an heir of the world, going to take
his inheritance.
CHAPTER X.
DAVIE.

IMMY’S first summer of farming proved remarkably
prosperous, and he was fairly astonished at his own
success.

But now the heavy rains of autumn set in, and the
small streams were soon swelled into rivers, and the larger
ones into torrents. All along the rivers came the same
story of dams and bridges washed away, and sawmills
carried down by the freshets.

“Hard times up to the Warner Settlement,” said
George, one evening; “ Deacon Hadley just come down
and says the sawmill ’s gone, and all the flat below the bluff
under water. David West’s new house was up to the
second story in water, and they looked all the time to see
it go.”

“Poor West,” said Jimmy, ‘and he’s worked so hard
to get him a home before cold weather ; he’ll be completely
discouraged.”

“His folks were all up to ‘ Lijah’s,’” said George, “and
I never see such a set of discouraged creeters.”

“No wonder,” said Jimmy; and that night, while the
rain beatat the windows, he could hardly sleep for thinking
of the homeless family, and the ruin the storm was bringing.

299
DAVIE. 108

Early the aext morning he was out on horseback, all
over his own farm, to see that everything was snug, and
then, after breakfast, he rode away to the Warner Settle-
ment, partly to see how a western river looked tearing
through its channel in all the fury of a freshet, and partly
to see if he could render any help.

At the bend of the river, half-a-mile below the settle-
ment, he found nearly all the men hard at work, trying to
save the timbers of the mill and the lumber, as it came
down the stream, by drawing it to the shore. West was
not the only homeless man among them, but they seemed
to take hold with good courage to save what little was left.

“Is your house still standing, West?” asked Jimmy.

“The cellar ain’t stirred, I reckon,” said West; “‘ that
was all there was left this morning.”

Everywhere Jimmy found the same brave spirit of
endurance; not a whit discouraged, but ready to go to
work again. Only West’s family, who had just come to

take possession of their new home, looked rather dismal,
as they thought of spending the winter with friends who
had scarcely room for themselves.

Jimmy went away with a plan in his mind, which he
turned over and over, as he rode home.

“T’m sure Mr. Warren wouldn’t care; I’m sure he’d
be the very first one to do it himself,” he thought.

‘“‘George,” he said, when they sat at dinner, “do you
think Mr. Warren would care if [ let West have my house
till spring ? ”

“ For what rent?” asked George, coolly.
104 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“None; except the pleasure of helping a good, honest
fellow out of trouble,”

‘‘That’s cheap enough,” said George.

“Tt seems a good deal to me; you can’t think how
strange it seems, that I can do anything to help others, and
I’m sure they might as well be using the house this winter
as to have it SOD Besides, if they want to pay rent,
they may board me.’

“You hain’t a speck of feelin’ for me and Sairy, I
believe—well, manage it your own way; I dare say Mr.
Warren "ll be suited ; only, if you get them folks in, don’t
you blame me if you can’t just get ’m out when you want
to.”

So Jimmy offered his empty house to the Wests, and it
was thankfully accepted, the family, however, insisting that’
he should board with them, as some compensation. West
was a carpenter, and, while he was busy, whenever the
weather would allow, in preparing a house for his own
family, he found time to make many substantial improve-
ments in Jimmy’s house, so that even George admitted
that he was a very profitable tenant. With the spring,
the West family moved back to the Settlement, taking up
their quarters in a small house, further back from the
river, and from that time Jimmy Marvin’s praises were a
favourite theme at the Settlement.

There were wonderful stories of his learning, and his
shrewdness, and his skilful management, until he grew
famous almost without knowing it.

“That boy’s bound to be somebody,” said George to
DAVIE. 105

his wife; “it does beat all how he makes everything go
that he puts his hand to.”

“Tt’s the motto, I reckon,” said Sarah, thoughtfully ;
“he always keeps it in his room—‘ Not slothful in business;
Jervent in spirit ; serving the Lord.’ ”

David West had recommended a new tenant to Jimmy ;
a sober, industrious Scotchman, who had just come to the
Settlement with his rosy young wife.

So the grave young Scotchman and his neat, careful
wife had been duly installed at the house. They brought
with them another inmate, a little pale-faced Scotch boy,
whose great dark eyes looked sadly out from under a white
brow that fairly overshadowed them, and whose thin fingers
were bent from always grasping the crutch that helped him
to hobble from his chair.to the door, on sunshiny days.
Poor little, crippled, deformed Davie! life seemed te have
few pleasures for him. Sandy and his wife were kind and
gentle with him, but he had such a lost, weary look, it
made one’s heart ache to look at him.

“His faither and mither died on the ship, when we
came out,” said Mary, “and I promised his mithe, she
was my old neebor, never to let her poor laddie want a bit
of bread, or a sup of porridge, whilst I had a taste for my-
self. And I'll be as good as my word to poor Davie; but
any one can see the laddie pines; he’s not one of our kin,
and be don’t take kindly to new faces.”

But if Jimmy was not one of poor Davie’s kin, it was
soon plain to see there was some strong tie between them,
for the weary little face learned to light up with a new
106 TILE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

pleasure at the very sound of his steps, and he would drag
his little deformed body to the door, evening after evening,
to watch for his coming. Jt was very seldom that Jimmy
had not found some treasure for his little friend; a handfal
of wild strawberries, a cluster of bright flowers, or even a
curious pebble; anything was enough to give pleasure to
one who was so shut out from the world. And then
Jimmy’s books! How the little fellow devoured them;
reading till weariness forced him to lie back in his easy-
chair, and gaze with never-satisfied eyes upon the picture
he loved best, “‘ Sunset in the Valley.”

“The laddie’s left pining for his mither,” said Mary;
“Tm thinking he’ll go back to see old Scotland again, one
day.”

But little Davie shook his head at her cheerful prophecy,
and said, quietly,—

“T’ll see the faither and the mither, but I’ll not see
Scotland again.”

“We don’t care for Scotland now, do we, laddie?”
Jimmy would say to him; “ we'll make a pleasant home here,
and Davie’ll teach me all the old Scotch tunes to sing.”

Then Davie’s great eyes would kindle, and he would
sit in the door and sing the “ Ingle-side,”’ and such old
simple songs as he had heard his mother sing. His voice
was sweet and clear, and Jimmy loved nothing better than
to hear him sing. They read history together, and little
Davie, with his keen intellect, was a match for many an
older head. Jimmy was often amused by his shrewd
observations upon the heroes of history.
DAVIE. 107

Jimmy’s interest was constantly increasing, in all the
surroundings of his new home. He was growing more and
more to feel that he was an important member of society,
and was looked up to by others around him. He had even
grown accustomed to hearing himself called “‘ Mr. Marvin,”
instead of Jimmy, though George still stuck to the familiar
name. But he never for a day forgot the dear home in
Ohio, where so many warm hearts still kept loving thoughts
for “Our Jimmy,” and many were the letters that were
exchanged between the two farms. Once, Mr. Warren
had taken a week to look at Jimmy’s western home, and
had expressed himself more than satisfied with the way the
farm was managed. How proud Jimmy felt to show his
tasteful home, with the many little adornments that he had
found time to gather around it; the neatly-kept out-
buildings, and the young orchards with their carefully-
trained trees!

“ Most of the farmers around here,” said George, “ think
they can’t spend time to ’tend to fruit, till they get their
farms in trim. I was something of that mind myself, till
Jimmy put me up to settin’ trees.”

“Hivery tree I set,” said Jimmy, “I kept thinking of
the poem in Arthur’s reader—‘ It will grow while thou art
sleeping.’ - They did grow, too, and now the rest look at
them, and begin to be anxious about their own fruit.
They’ve lost years of growth, though, and now they'll have
to wait for it.”

“Jimmy,” said Mr. Warren, “suppose you take me
up the river to some of those lumber mills, and let us
108 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

see where we can do best in getting stuff for the new
barn.”

Davie half started from his chair at hearing this, for a
trip to Burley’s Mill had been one of the pleasant excur-
sions that he and Jimmy had planned, as soon as the
autumn work was over. But, of course, they could not
take him now, he thought; and the patient little fellow
tried to go on with his drawing quietly.

“We can take Davie, I suppose,” said Jimmy, as he
harnessed his glossy horses to the light farm wagon ;
“there will be plenty of room for his chair, and he has so
few pleasures.”

“Certainly,” said Mr. Warren; “I think one never
gets the full enjoyment of a ride without a child along to
share it. Their senses are so keen and quick and they see
so much that our dull eyes miss.”

‘Davie is hardly a child,” said Jimmy, “‘though he
does not grow any larger, nor seem any older than he did
a year ago. I think, sometimes, his soul is full grown
now.”

Davie had laid down his pencil, and was leaning wearily
back in his chair.

“Now, laddie, come on,” called Jimmy, cheerily ;
“ we’re all ready for that famous ride to Burley’s Mill.”

“O,am Ito go?” said Davie, eagerly, starting up on
his crutch; “ do you really want me?”

“Of course I want him; would I go without my
Davie?” said Jimmy, picking up the chair, and helping
him to the door.
DAVIE. 109

Davie and his chair were safely stowed in the front of the
wagon, the basket of lunch prepared, and Mary’s thick
plaid thrown in for Davie, in case he should need a wrap.
Then the reins were loosed, and the handsome horses
stepped proudly away down the smooth prairie road, which
followed the course of the river for miles and miles to the
north- west.

It was a clear, sunny day in late October, and here and
there were little wooded tracts, where the trees were gay
with bright leaves. On the rounded pastures, thousands
of sheep were nibbling the short grass, for it was a region
of sheep-farms, and now and then a troop of colts would
trot up to the fence, lift their graceful heads to take a look
at the travellers, and then dash away as if proud of their
freedom.

“I never see sucha troop of colts,” said Jimmy, “ with-
out thinking of the first time I went to your house. |
haven’t got over the feeling yet—I always want to swing
my hat and race off with them.”

Quiet little Davie looked up into Jimmy’s glowing
face with a look, half admiration and half pain. This
quick, strong leaping of the healthy blood in all the pulses
was something he could never know, and his little, thin
hands closed tighter over the arms of his chair, as he
thought- what it must be.

“Ts it easy for you, Davie”? asked Jimmy, kindly.

“Yes; itis a good day,” said Davie, simply, and the
old look of peace came hack to his face.

Mr. Warren felt as proud as if a personal honour had
110 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

been done him, to see how almost every one they met
gave Jimmy a respectful recognition. George had slyly
told him that they were “going to run him for Justice of
the Peace.” .

“ He’ll go in, sure as shootin’ ; there ain’t nobody else
up to the Settlement that'll hold a candle to him for book
larnin’; and then only think of our Jimmy bein’ Squire
Marvin!”

It had only seemed like one of George’s jokes, to Mr.
Warren, but now he began to consider, and count up the
years, and sure enough, it was a fact that the boy by his side
would be twenty-one at his next birthday. A man already!
Could it be possible? Well, he looked manly enough, with
his sinewy frame, and fine open face; but where had the
years gone P and could it be so long ago that a little ignorant
boy had blacked his boots on the streets of Columbus ?

“T must be getting old myself,” he concluded; “ well,
the Lord doesn’t mean to have the work of this world stop
with one set of men. He always has another growing up
to take their places. They’re like Jimmy’s trees—they
grow while we are sleeping, and first we know, here they
are, all ready to take up our burdens and carry them better
than we have done.”

The bluffs by the side of the river grew higher, and the
road began to leave the prairie and wind slowly down
among them, towards the flat below.

Presently they came into a sandy strip where the pine
leaves lay thick upon the road, and the air was sweet with
the strong, resinous smell.
DAVIE. 111

“This is only a narrow ridge,” said Jimmy, “and
seems strange enough among our other timber. If you
listen now, you can hear the falls.”

A dull roar of water began to come through the trees,
growing louder as they went on, and the road ran close to
the river, which was braken into whirls and eddies by the
rocks.

“You wouldn’t think they could raft over that,” said
Jimmy, “but they do, in the Spring, when the water is
high.”
~ “What a lovely place!’ said Mr. Warren, as they
came in sight of the mill; “I didn’t imagine a lumber
mill could be so charmingly surrounded.”

The horses were securely fastened, and a thick plaid
spread down for Davie, under a great tree, where he could
lie and watch the foaming water, and then Mr. Warren and
Jimmy went to transact business with old Tim, the foreman
of the mill.

Tim treated Jimmy with great respect, but he had a
horror of speculators, who were clearing the country of the
lumber which the settlers so much needed, and he regarded
Mr. Warren at first with a suspicious eye.

While they were talking with Tim, a boy came past the
door of the mill whose face struck Jimmy at once as
familiar, though he was at loss to remember where he had
seen him. But when they joined little Davie, below the
fall, and sat quietly eating their lunch and talking over
their agreement with Tim, the same boy came down from
the mill, and stood in the road near by them.
112 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“T do believe that’s Jo,” said Jimmy, starting up and
going toward him.

There was no mistaking the face, now, though Jimmy
was pleased to see that it wore a very different expression,
and had lost its look of lazy cunning.

“So you are working here, are you, Jo?” he asked,
with a hearty shake of his hand.

“Yes, Sir; I came up here right after I left down
below. I heard, down to the Warner Settlement, that old
Tim wanted a boy, and I made up my mind, if he’d take
me, I’d make one fair try for it. It was pretty tough
startin’, though, for the old fellow made me own just all I’d
been up to; and I just made a clean breast of it, and told
him what you’d said to me, about its bein’ everybody’s
business what became of me. He concluded to give me a
chance, and I’ve staid right along ever since.”

“Tm glad to hear it,” said Jimmy, earnestly ; “and I
hope you'll keep on doing well. IfI can help you, I shall
be glad to.”

“You have helped me,” said Jo. ‘When I seen you
drive up, to-day, I went straight and told Tim, ‘ There’s
the feller that said he cared what became of me;’ and Tim,
he rolled down his sleeves, and says he, ‘I’d rather shake
hands with him than with a king. ”

“Come here,” said Jimmy ; “I want to introduce you
to the man who cared what became of me, and who took
me, when I was a poor, friendless little boy, and made a
man of me,”

Jo shook hands with Mr. Warren, with a look of awe
DAVIE. 113

in his eyes, but they were full of love and gratitude when
he turned them on Jimmy.

“Is he one ot yours, too?” he asked, nodding at little
Davie.

“Yes, he’s one of my friends; he belongs to me as
much as to anybody—don’t you, Davie?”

Davie smiled lovingly at his friend, as if he felt it very
pleasant to belong to somebody.

As they rode home by the delightful river road, Jimmy
told Jo’s story to Mr. Warren, and they talked together
over the wonderful ways by which little things are often
made the means of great good.

“Have you enjoyed the ride, Davie?” he asked, as he
lifted him carefully from the wagon.

“Yes, it is a good day,” said Davie, peacefully.


CHAPTER XI.
OLD FRIENDS.

IMMY was sitting in his pleasant little room, deeply

interested in a new agricultural work, when he heard .
a halting step coming slowly up to the door.

“That’s Deacon Hadley,” said Davie, who was lying in
his favourite place on a soft rug before the open fire.

Davie had grown weaker all the fall, and the cold
weather seemed to strike a deadly chill to his heart.
Almost all his days were passed now on the lounge in
Mary’s room, with the toddling baby for company and
amusement, and his evenings with Jimmy, though he had
little strength now for zee or study.

“T’m not in haste to go,” he would say, “ but I’m just
waiting now, and it won’t be Jong.”

Deacon Hadley came in, with his kindly, benevolent
face, and after a friendly word with Davie, sat down by
the fire in silence.

“*How’s your rheumatism to-night, Deacon? ” asked
Jimmy, seeing the old man looked grave.

“*O, not worse, to speak of. I get about pretty spry,
for an old fellow like me. I don’t expect to be young
again, James. You young men have got to put your -
shoulders to the wheel, now.”’
OLD FRIENDS. 115

- “Tt won’t be very hard, now you’ve gone ahead and
broken the road for us,” said Jimmy.

“That’s just it. I’m afraid some of our young men
don’t see what the work is that the Lord expects of them,
and they’re spending their time and strength in folly. I
came down to see what could be done about it.”

“ About what? ” asked Jimmy, not understanding him.

“Why our young men and boys up at the Settlement.
They don’t read or study, or do anything of evenings, but
loaf around the tavern and grocery ; and some of ’em are
getting in bad ways, I’m afraid. Now if there could. be
something started to interest them—a Lyceum or a
Farmers’ Club, or something of that sort.”

“That is just what I should like, and I am sure it
would succeed, if any one would only give it a start.”

“ And you are exactly the one to give it a start,” said
the deacon. .“ The boys won’t listen to an old fellow like
me, but if you take hold of it, a Farmers’ Club will be sure
to take.”

“T’ll try it,” said Jimmy, hopefully ; “and let us make
it something especially for the boys. They need to feel
that they have an interest in what their fathers are doing.”

And so, over the little table in Jimmy’s room, was
planned what afterward grew into a regular Farmer’s Club
and Debating Society. It was nota part of the plan that -
Jimmy should be President of the Debating Society, and
really take the lead in the Club ; but he soon found himself
filling both places without any choice of his own. And
when at was urged that the Society must have an address

H 2
116 THE wkOYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

from its President, Jimmy consented to give them a little
talk upon some practical topics, though he would not hear
of its being called a lecture. It was only for the young
men and boys of the Society, but somehow the fathers and
mothers felt curious to know what was being said to their
sons, and so the pine benches at the hall were filled by the
whole population of the Settlement. Jimmy’s heart
almost failed him, but he wisely concluded that he would
say to the boys just what he had intended to say to them,
and let any one listen who pleased.

“That’s what I call good common sense,” said old
Deacon Hadley, when the address was finished. “It’s just
such talk as young men need to hear, and just such as
they’ll listen to and remember, because it comes from one
of themselves, a real, hard-working farmer, who knows
what he is talking about.”

But nobody listened to the young speaker with suck
unbounded pride and delight as little Davie. He had been
so anxious to go, that Jimmy had wrapped him carefully
and taken him to the hall, where he sat through the whole,
with his glittering eyes fixed on the speaker’s face.

“ Are you very tired, Davie?” asked Jimmy, as he
laid him once more on the rug, by the warm fire.

“Tm always tired now, you know,” said Davie, with a
faint smile; ‘but I’m glad you let me go. I remember it
all, but I liked my part the best.”

“What do you mean P”

“Why, don’t you know? My part. I thought you
meant it on purpose for me.”
OLD FRIENDS. 117

Davie raised himself on his elbow, and looked at Jimmy,
with a faint flush from the fire on his thin cheek, as he
repeated, eagerly,

**¢We cannot all hope to accomplish some great thing
by our own separate effort; each has his life work given
him, and there is a Master Builder above us, by whose
skill the whole is fitted together, and brought into harmony.
Let us use our best powers of mind and body to do well
whatever part He assigns us, for none of us can tell now
which has the most important work; and a lack in the
smallest part may mar the whole.’ ”

“That is it,” said Davie. “I thought He had not
given me any part; but now I see that perhaps He knows
what Iam doing, and has saved me some work so small
that only He can see how it is needed.”

The child rested contentedly on the rug, and Jimmy
did not like to disturb him. He was too much excited to
feel like sleeping himself, and. they sat there alone for
nearly two hours.

“* He hath made everything beautiful in its season,’”
repeated Davie, dreamily, as Jimmy was assisting him to
his bed; “‘in its season, you know, and some things have
one season, and some have another. My season will come.
I think it will come pretty soon, now.”

Later in the night, Mary knocked at Jimmy’s door, in
alarm.

“Davie’s in one of his spells again, and I’m thinking
he’ll surely go, this time.”

In a moment Jimmy was by his bedside, but Davie
118 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

could not speak, at first. His breath came in broken
gasps, and his hands were pressed tightly over his little,
fluttering heart. He could smile, though, and presentiy
he found breath to say, brokenly,

“ Beautiful in its season—beautiful in its season; my
season is coming now; I’m so glad.” After a while he
whispered, faintly, “‘ Sing /”

Jimmy hesitated a moment, and then sang, to an old
Scotch tune,

“Kind Shepherd, open wide
Thy tender arms. to fold
This little, weary lamb,
That wanders in the cold;

“The dreary moor his feet have cross’d,
With want oppress’d, in darkness lost ;
Kind Shepherd, on Thy sheltering breast,
Now let Thy little lamb find rest.”

Davie’s face grew very quiet as he listened, and his
hands loosened and fell away from his heart. He tried
once cr twice to sing, but only faintly whispered,

“ Kind Shepherd, open wide,”’

and then he lay back on the pillow, and closed his eyes.
The Shepherd opened His arms, and little Davie was
dead.
“‘He’s found the faither and the mither, poor laddie,”
said Mary, smoothing back his hair; “there’s small need
to greet for him ; such a weakly lamb is best in the fold.”
Davie had grown to be such a friend and companion to
OLD FRIENDS. 119

Jimmy, that he felt fairly lost without him. Child though
he was, his mind was more ripely developed than that of
many a man, and Jimmy found no one to take his place.
The quiet evenings at home had lost their great charm,
now the little figure was gone from the rug, and the
readings of history had not half their old interest, without
Davie’s quaint remarks and keen criticism.

Jimmy was almost homesick, and began to think
seriously of a visit to Mr. Warren’s family. And when
Mr; Warren wrote himself to urge it, Jimmy concluded
that it really would be best for him to go. It was not a
very pleasant time for travelling, but the young farmer
must not be away from his farm after the Spring work
fairly set in, and there was a promise of life in the swelling
buds of the red maples, and here and there a faint green-
ness under the shelter of some hill.

“T wonder how it would be if I had a home of my own
to go back to?” thought Jimmy, as they drew near
Shelby ; and he leaned eagerly from the car to catch the
first glimpse of familiar objects.

“Peanuts! Five cents a glass!’’ called the train boy,
as he passed down the car.

Jimmy started at the sound, and looked curiously at
the boy, feeling very much as if he had met his old self
again.

“How disappointed I was,” he thought, “ when I lost
my place on the train. It seemed as if I was set clear
back in my prospects of success. I wonder what would
have become of me, if I had kept it?”
120 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICTIES.

And while he was thinking the matter over, and re-
membering how earnestly Mr. Walters had once assured
him that the best thing that ever happens to us is to be
disappointed in our plans sometimes, they reached the
station at Shelby.

“Just the same station,” thought Jimmy; “I do
believe we should have had a new one, up in Jowa, by this
time.”

Ah! Jimmy, that was proof positive that you belong,
heart and hand, to the young enterprise which is already
pushing away from the hands that gave it its first start.

This time it was Arthur who awaited him at the
station, a fine, manly boy, not a little proud to show Jimmy
how well he held the reins, and how fully he was trusted
at home.

“These are my colts,” he said, touching the handsome
bays. “I trained them myself—they never needed any
breaking. Father says, all horses want is teaching, and
he wouldn’t give a cent for one that was broken to harness.”

“Your father understands training—training colts and
training boys,” said Jimmy, thinking how at that home
there had never been any but loving, interested workers.

“Who has the garden this year?” he asked, as he saw
that the work of cleaning up had already commenced, and
the berries were trimmed and tied up.

“Alice and Lester—he’s the new boy, and he’s real
smart. They mean to do great things, and beat Aunt
Ruth and me—we had it last year.”

How well Jimmy remembered that first summer, when





OLD FRIENDS. 123

he had helped Ruth take care of the garden; and now to
think that little Alice was old enough to manage it!

“Tf the rest have changed as much as you have, I shall
need to be introduced,”’ he said, with an uneasy glance at
the windows.

“You won’t know Alice, then; she’s most as tall as
Aunt Ruth, and don’t like to be called ‘Puss’ any more.”

Jimmy had not much time to consider, for the whole
family came trooping out to meet him, grandmother, with
her cane, and little Carrie, who had given her precious
china cup, two years befure, to ‘my Dimmy.”

It was plain they all knew him, and no son need have
asked for a more loving welcome than they gave him. In
spite of the change which two years had made in the
younger ones, he was at no loss to know the old, familiar
‘faces, and in a few moments all the first shyness of feeling
wore off, and Jimmy was a boy at home again.

There was so much to tell on both sides, so many
questions to ask of the new home in Iowa, and of George
and Sarah, and so many improvements on the farm to
be looked at, that it was evening before Jimmy found time
for a quiet talk with Grandmother Warren by her easy-
chair.

“Sit down here now, James,” she said, “ these yeang
folks must les me lcok at thee.” ;

She. put on her glasses, and took a deliberate survey uf
his fave.

“T’ve heard that in a new place, men find new tempta
tions; is thy heart right yet, b:fore the Lord, James? ”’
194 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“My heart is right, grandmother,” said Jimmy,
honestly. “Dve never seen any reason for being sorry
that I undertook to serve Him.”

“You're, goin’ to have a s’prise party,” said Carrie,
rushing into the room; “Nelly Curtis has got back again,
and she, and Hezekiah, and Grandmother Harmon are all
coming over here to spend the evening. Dilly just come to
tell Aunt Ruth.”

Just at dusk the old-fashioned family “ark,” as Arthur
called it, drove up to the door, and Hezekiah got ont, as
shy and awkward as ever, and helped Grandmother
Harmon and Nelly to alight.

Jimmy thought he had never seen any one so lovely or
so graceful as Nelly Curtis, and as he watched her coming
slowly up the yard with her grandmother, he heartily
wished himself back on his farm in Iowa.

“JI tell you but she’s a stunner,” said the admiring
Arthur, who would sometimes use slang in spite of his
mother, and was ignorant of any such sensation as bashful-
ness. ‘All the fellows in town are crazy over her, but she
takes to that old butternut of a Hezekiah just as much as
to anybody.”

Grandmother Harmon’s friendly greeting set Jimmy a
little at his ease, and Nelly’s merry welcome, and Heze-
kiah’s profound awkwardness, soon made him forget all
about it.

“Did you ever see such a precious old guy?” said the
irreverent Arthur, who had coaxed Jimmy into the wood-
house to crack some nuts. “I think Quakers are splendid
OLD FRIENDS. 125

for women and old folks, but they no business ever to pre-
tend to be young.”

“That’s because you don’t know,” said Jimmy.
“Hezekiah would be awkward, anyhow; he can’t help it
when he’s so bashful.”

“T don’t see how being bashful makes a fellow
awkward.”

“Tt does, though; if people could only forget all about
themselves they would always appear better. They are
always wondering whether they are saying and doing the
right thing, and so they are stiff and miserable.”

“The hand of the diligent!” exclaimed Nelly, coming
to the door and peeping in ; “ only see what wonders it is
working ; come in, Alice, and let’s help them.”

Arthur gave her aseat ona pile of clean white shavings,
and she and Alice began to “ help ”’ by eating the nicest of the
nuts before they found their way to the dish.

‘“‘ Never mind the dish,” she said; “they taste a great
deal better out here. Somehow the smell of these shavings
makes me think of the woods, and I could shut my eyes
and fancy I heard the bluejays screaming, and the nuts
pattering down on the dry leaves. Hezekiah took Alice
and me down to Lynn’s Woods, last fall. Such a day as
we had, didn’t we, Alice ?”

Alice assented to the pleasant remembrance in her quiet
way, which set Jimmy to thinking of the difference between
the two girls, but Arthur broke out in his blunt fashion,

“ The idea of going nutting with Hezekiah! I shouldn’t
think he could climb a tree without a step-ladder.”
126 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES,

“But he can, though; he’s splendid to go nutting with.
I believe he should have been a wild boy, for he delights in
the woods, and he knows every tree and plant that grows,
and can tell such wonderful things about the birds and
squirrels, Papa is going to give him a place in his
counting-house next year, and then he can support his
mother. That’s what he wants to do.”

Arthur felt a new respect for Hezekiah; more on
account of his woodcraft, however, than anything else;
and so they went on chatting and jesting, until, in spite of
Nelly and Alice, the hand of the diligent cobaucien and the
dish was piled with nuts.

They went back to the parlour, to find Hezekiah had
forgotten himself entirely in an animated account he was
giving the company of a pedestrian excursion to visit some
favourite springs in Virginia.

“He ain't so slow, after all,” whispered Arthur, “if
you could only keep him stirred up.”

“T’ve never been anywhere yet,” said Nelly, deploringly ;
‘papa never gets time to take me, he’s so full of business.
I wish girls could get up pedestrian excursions as boys do.
Boys have all the fun.”

“They ought to have some fun,” said Arthur; “they
have all the work te do; I mean all that amounts to any-
thing.”

“O, Arthor Warren,” said Aunt Ruth, “how dare you
make such a rude speech before the women of this house ?
For my part, I get all the pedestrian excursions I can
manage, every day of my life.”
OLD FRIENDS. : {27

“The work of the world is pretty equally divided,” said
old Mrs. Harmon; ‘the Lord wants no idlers in His vine-
yard, and He pays them no wages.”

“That’s grandma’s favourite motto,” said Nelly, “TI
believe I hear it every day in some shape; ‘The hand of
the diligent maketh rich.’ ”

“Tlike the one you gave me when I went to Iowa,
better,” said Jimmy, “it seems to haveall the other motto,
and a great deal more—‘ Not slothful in business ; fervent in
spirtt, serving the Lord.’ It gives a motive for all the work,
something beyond ‘ making rich.’ ”

“ They’ve got that very motto ona card at the News-
boys’ Lodging House, where grandmother and I went, last
winter. Don’t thee remember, grandmother ? I told thee
then.”

“Yes, I remember ; thy friend has gone back to England,
James, quite worn out with labour.”

“Mr. Walters! how I wish I-could see him; and did
you see any of the boys—” Jimmy stopped and laughed,
for he reccollected that it was eight years since he left
there, and the boys were men, as well as he.

“ How strange it all seems,” he said. “TI often wonder
how it would have been with me, if a few little things had
happened differently—if Miss Fielding had not sent for me’
on that Christmas day, or if Nelly had not lost her card on
my crossing.”

‘Such things don’t happen,” said Mrs. Harmon, “they are
all ordered for us. I don’t doubt the Lord has some special
work for thee, James, and He has been leading thee to it.”
128 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“The Lord has a special work for each of us, I believe,”
said Mr. Warren, “and one man’s part is just as important
as another’s.”

“TI don’t like to think of it that way,” said Nellie,
gravely. “It doesn’t give you any chance to do as you
please, but holds you up to trying always to find out your
duty.”

“What does Alice think?” said Aunt Ruth, smiling
at the earnest face that was lifted timidly to hers.

“T was only thinking how it would help me in my
work every day, if I could think that all the little common
things were duties, and that doing them well was really
accomplishing something —”

Alice stopped, half frightened at herself, but her grand-
mother said, kindly,

“We talk foolishly about great and small things, for
none of us can tell what the Lord counts great.”

“Come and sing for us, Nelly,” said Arthur, who could
not be still a moment longer.

They opened the piano, and the young folks gathered
around it.

Nelly dashed through a brilliant succession of songs
and instrumental pieces, and then Alice played a few sweet
simple accompaniments to the tenderest songs, which she
sang in a low, clear voice. Then all together joined in
some familiar pieces that fairly made the house ring with
music, but through it all Hezekiah’s ringing tenor sounded
clear as a bugle, completely carrying away Arthur with
admiration.
OLD FRIENDs. 129

When the good-byes were all said, and the old ark
drove away with its load, Jimmy and Aunt Ruth stood
alone by the parlour fire.

“Nelly is a beautiful girl,” said Aunt Ruth, musingly ;
“do you know, Jimmy, I’ve always had some romantic
fancies about you two, ever since I found out how strangely -
she had been mixed up with your life!”

Jimmy was turning a vase of Bohemian glass in his
hand, watching it glitter and sparkle in the firelight, as if
filled with liquid rubies.

“Yes,” said he, slowly, “I used to have some fancies
myself, but now —”

“Well, but now?” said Aunt Ruth, seeing he did not
go on.

“ But now,” said Jimmy, hesitating, “I think I would

-rather wait for the little girl who once promised to come
and keep house for me when she could make apple dump-
lings as well as Aunt Ruth.”

Aunt Ruth looked surprised, but she smiled a little and
said,

“Tt is a good while to wait, and Nellie Curtis —”

“Nelly would be like this glass—very lovely to stand
on the mantel and hold roses. Whatever the Lord wants
of other people, I’m very sure He means work for me, and
by His help I mean todo it. I’ve taken this motto for
my whole life, Miss Ruth, and I never mean to forget it—

“Nor SLOTHFUL IN BUSINESS; FEKVENT IN SPIRIT, SERV-
ING tHE Loxp.’ ”
CHAPTER XII.
SUCCESS.

aX the pleasant parlour at Shelby the Warren family are
once more gathered around the evening lamp. Mr.
Warren, with a little more grey in his hair, looks thought-
ful, as he slowly folds a letter he has been reading. The
slender young girl at the piano must be Carrie, and there
by the window, with her finger in a closed book, sits the
same gentle Alice, whose quiet eyes and placid brow
Arthur declares were made on purpose for a Quaker. As
for Arthur himself, we could not fail to know him, in spite
of his six feet of stature, for his face has the same merry,
teasing look, and his brown hair curls just as obstinately
as when he was a boy. Only one chair is vacant. The
dear old grandmother has gone peacefully from earth to
heaven ; but her quiet life had such a quiet ending that
they hardly think of her as gone from the household.

“See here,” said Frank, coming into the room with a
handful of bills, “ who says I’m not a born horse-dealer ? ”

“Have you sold that other colt?” asked Arthur,
laughing.

“Yes, Sir, and for my own price, too. Duncan bought
him for a match to his grey. Now, father, I mean to hold
you to your bargain, You said if I could sell the colts I
SUCUESS. 131

might have the money to invest as I pleased; and J want
to go to Iowa, for one thing, and see George aud Jimmy.”

“T hope you don’t want to go out there to live,” said
Mrs. Warren, anxiously ; “there’s surely enough for you
and Arthur here.”

“Ono,” said Frank. “I mean to stick to the old farm;
I only want to see how Iowa looks.”

“T don’t know but I may go to Iowa, myself this fall.
Jimmy writes to say he is ready to buy the farm, and I
think I must go up and see about arranging matters. It
is really wonderful how that boy has got on in the world.”

“Tf I can understand this letter, he wants me to do a
great deal more for the farm than I ever agreed to.”

He held out the letter to Mrs. Warren, who read it
through without a word, and handed it back with a quiet
smile.

“ Give it to Alice,” said Mr. Warren.

But Alice did not seem at all interested, for she had
slipped silently out of the room.

“ Suppose we take a trip to Iowa, Mother?” said Mr.
Warren to his wife. “It’s a long time since you have ©
taken a journey with me, and I want to show that Iowa
isn’t quite a howling wilderness.”

“Do go, Mary,” said Aunt Ruth.

“ Alice will go, too,” said Mr. Warren; “she has full
as much interest in seeing Iowa as any of us.”

Up to this time Mrs. Warren had only smiled placidly
at the absurd idea that any one could fancy it possible for
her to leave home; but when Mr. Warren said this, she

4
132 TILE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

grew serious ina moment. “Of course,” she said, “if you
are going to take Alice, I shall go too; you don’t suppose
the child would go without me?”

“Why, I didn’t know,” said Mr. Warren. “I don’t
understand feminine proprieties very well; but Jimmy has
always seemed just like one of my own boys—”’

“O!” said Arthur, “I begin to see into a mill-stone,
now. I tell you what, Father, I’d ask him double for the
farm ; what business has he to want Allie into the bargain ? ”

That was the end of Allie’s quiet, for both Frank and
Arthur teased her unmercifully; but with Aunt Ruth to
help her, she managed to stand her ground bravely.

Mrs. Warren, to her own great astonishment, found herself
actually preparing for a trip to Iowa, and after a few delays
the whole party- were ready to start. Mr. and Mrs.
Warren, Alice, and Frank were to go,while Arthur and
Carrie managed the farm, with Aunt Ruth for aid and
counsel.

“I mean to give you a sample of genuine western
travel,” said Mr. Warren. “The roads are splendid now,
and we can leave the cars at Ashby, and take a carriage
the rest of the way. It is about a hundred miles, and the
road keeps near the river all the way.

The proposition pleased them all, and Frank was impa-
tient for the time to come for leaving the railroad.

“ Why, it is really a beautiful town,” said Mrs. Warren,
looking with surprise at the broad streets and handsome
residences of Ashby. “I’ve always thought of Iowa asa
place where the people lived in log cabins in the woods.”
SUCCESS. 133

“You'll have to change a good many of your impres-
sions of the country up this way. Why, it doesn’t look
half so new and unfinished as most of Ohio does.”

_ They succeeded in hiring a comfortable travelling
carriage, and a driver who was familiar with the road over
which they were to pass. The baggage had been sent on
by railroad, and everything seemed to promise a delightfal
trip.

“Do we have to ford the river?’ asked Mrs. Warren,
in alarm.

“To be sure,” said Mr. Warren; “but the fords are
broad and shallow, and you won’t be at all afraid.”

“T reckon you didn’t. look to find bridges ’crost the
Big Raccoon, Ma’am,” said the driver. “ Might as well
try to keep a saddle on a wild buffalo.”

Jeff mounted his seat. The rest were soon ready, and
they drove gaily off over the firm, level road towards the
little prairie town, twenty-five miles distant, where they
were to spend the first night.

Mrs. Warren enjoyed the drive across the beautiful
country, but at night she watched the sky with a little
anxiety. To her great relief there were no signs of rain,
and the second day was as bright and cloudless as the
first. They forded the river twice, finding it only a
shallow brawling stream, and stopped for the night at a
. comfortable farmhouse, where Jeff seemed to be an old
acquaintance. It was nearly nine o’clock when they
sat down in the great kitchen to the bountiful supper that
had been prepared for them. Frank and Alice were in
134 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

high glee over their journey, declaring it was worth all
the railroad trips ever taken.

“Tt’s nice,” said Jeff, “ while the weather holds; but I
mistrust there’s a storm brewing.”

When they started the next morning, there was an
. ominous dampness in the air, and a dull colour in the sky.
The rain held off, however, until nearly evening, when it
began slowly to patter down, increasing steadily every
moment.

“There’s our stopping place, just in good time,” said
Mr. Warren, as the lights of a river town shone through
the rain.

“Tf it’s all the same to you, ’uns,”’ said the driver, “ I’d
a leetle rather get to the other side of the river to-night.
’Tain’t more’n a mile or so furder on, and if this rain keeps
on, the ford’ll be pretty full ’fore mornin’.”

“Ts there any place to stop, over there?” asked Mr.
Warren, doubtfully.

“Well, not so very nice, that’s so, now; but 1 reckon
Jake Sawyer would take us in on a pinch.” 3

“O do let’s stop,” said Mrs. Warren. “I wouldn’t
ford that river in the dark for anything.”

“ Just as you like, Ma’am,” said Jeff. “The river ain’t
ris much yet, and I can get a boy to ride ahead with a
lantern.” -

“Perhaps we'd better try it; it may be impassable by
morning,” said Mrs. Warren, as calmly as she could.

“That’s the talk, man,” said Jeff, urging his horses
on, and soon coming where they could hear the loud roar



SUCCESS. 1387

of the river. He knocked at a little cabin by the roadside,
and a woman came to the door, carefully shielding a candle
with her hand. She readily promised to send her son with
the lantern to show them the ford, and the boy was soon
mounted on a horse, without saddle or bridle, and riding
slowly before them. The river passed through a gorge
thickly wooded with hemlocks, and the road down to the
ford seemed steep and soe

“Go ahead, YOURE StEr said Jeff; “it’s a goodish pitch
down to the water.”

The river was not much swollen, but the current was
strong, and they could see spots of foam rushing by in the
_ darkness. The horse of their guide seemed frightened by
the gleam of the lantern upon the water, and refused to
go in.

“Tell ye what, Mister,” said the boy, wheeling around,
“them that likes to risk their necks in there may try it.
I hain’t no call that way myself.”

“We'll go back, Jeff, said Mr. Warren. And back
they went, in the pouring rain, which increased every
moment.

All night they listened to the steady roar, and, with the
earliest light, four anxious faces looked out to see what the
daylight would reveal. It showed a dismal picture, but
Jeff assured them that their only chance was to go on im-
mediately, unless they wanted to stay there a week. Day-
light and a good breakfast made them all feel braver, and,
at any rate, it was easier to face danger when it was fairly
before you than to meet it in the dark.
138 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

““O, Father,” said Alice, as they came in sight of the
river, “we surely cannot go throuzh there.”

“ How is it, Jeff,” asked Mr. Warren, “doesn’t it look
a little uely ?”

“That ain’t bad for one night’s work,”’ said Jeff, coolly,
getting out to uncheck his horses; “ but we'll go through
like a book. You see that big rock nigh the middle—a
hoss won’t swim long’s that sticks above water. You
wimmin folks better put your feet up on the seats, though
—might get ’°em damp.”

There were two pale faces on the back seat of the carriage,
but not a word was spoken, as the horses walked deliberately
into the seething flood. - Not quite to their knees, at first;
then a little plunge, and the water swept against the floor
of the carriage. A moment more, and it flowed through
the carriage and swayed it a little, and then one of the
horses staggered, as if he had a mind to swim. A sharp
word from the driver sent him floundering on, and soou
the water grew more shallow, and the fright was over.
The driver looked around with an air of triumph, and the
passengers looked at each other and laughed nervously.

The rest of the journey was accomplished without any
adventures, and after the first discomfort was over, the
travellers settled themselves for a day’s ride in the rain,
and made the best of it.

“There’s George,” said Alice, just before sunset, as a
figure in a slouched hat and dripping overcoat rose from a
great farm waggon to look back at them.

“Hullo there!” called a gruff voice to the driver.
SUCCESS. 1389

“Hullo yourself!” said Jeff, in response.

The carriage came nearer, and George was saluted by
a chorus of voices from the travellers.

“T got uneasy "bout ye,” said he. ‘The creek swelled
powerful, and I didn’t know but ye’d got some fool of a
driver that never see the Big Raccoon on the rampage.”

“Does Jimmy know ?” asked Frank, anxiously.

“Who? Squire Marvin?” said George, gravely. “No,
T reckon he don’t. He’s up the river to see about lumber
for the new ’cademy; but Sairey invited him over to
supper. I ‘lowed you’d be along ’bout to-night, if you
wasn’t swamped.”

George drove rapidly on to show the way, and Jeff
followed with a good heart, for he was glad enough to put
an end to his long drive. The whole party was soon com-
fortably accommodated in George’s great farmhouse, and
Sarah was only too happy to show her well-furnished home
to Mrs. Warren. Alice flitted about the house, admiring
everything, and yet showing such a restlessness that
brought a smile to Sarah’s great blue eyes, especially when
she found her, over and over, rubbing the dripping window-
panes with her handkerchief, that she might catch a glimpse
of the road over towards the Settlement, or running to the
top of the stairway, where there was a fine view of Jimmy’s
house.

It was quite dark when Jimmy came over, and, amid
the general greetings, he surely had none from Alice, for
she was nowhere to be found; but if-Frank had not been
a remarkable boy, he certainly would have told of a little
140 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

figure that started up in the dusk from the foot of the
stairway, and got the start of them all, in spite of wet
overcoats.

“Whiskers! I declare!” said Mrs. Warren, turning
Jimmy around. “TI don’t know you at all, with that great
beard, my boy.”

“Why not?” said Mr. Warren; do you remember he’s
twenty-four years old? We shall have to leave off saying
Jimmy to our young senator.”

Jimmy blushed as brightly as Alice would have done,
but even Mrs. Warren’s critical eye saw no lack of noble
manliness in face and figure, and she took a real satisfaction
in quietly assuring Alice that they all felt proud of Jimmy.

“Tt’s no joke about the legislature,” said Sarah,
earnestly ; “he really is going this w.ater, for George says
so, and I’m sure there’s nobody in these parts fitter.”

It might have been June, instead of late September, for
the prairies kept their vivid green, and the woods showed
scarcely a tint of decay. The sky looked as blue as if
washed for ever from all storms, and the white mists went
steaming up from the river, and floated away into thin
films in the sunshine.

““O, Mother,” said Alice, ‘it’s like Spring-time instead
of Autumn.”

Mrs. Warren looked into the tender blue eyes, that were
like nothing so much as April violets, and smiled to think
that in one young heart it was Spring-time in spite of the
almanacs.

A week passed pleasantly for all of them, and then
SUCCESS, 141

Mrs. Warren began to think uneasily of the family at
home.

“We'll start day after to-morrow,” said Mr. Warren;
“and now, James, I want you to invite your friends to
come and hold a little jubilee in your house, for to-morrow
the master comes into possession there.”

There never was a merrier company than met in the
farmhouse to welcome the young master to his estate;
never were heartier good wishes than were showered upon
him by old and'young. And it was hard to tell whether Mr.
Warren, or his wife, or the young master of the house,
enjoyed the occasion most: for Jimmy had been a son to
the Warrens for so many years, that they hardly realized
that anything could make him nearer. Quiet Alice went
from rocm to room with Frank and Jimmy, meeting all
the strange faces with her own bright, winsome smile, that
made the Scotch housekeeper say,

“ She’s no so grand as some, but she’s a bonnie flower.”

Old Deacon Hadley was there, with his sons and
daughters, pointing all the young folks to the illuminated
card Jimmy still kept- upon his wall.

“Not slothful in business; fervent in spirit, serving the
Lord.”

“There’s the grand secret of success, boys,” he would
say; “that’s what made young Marvin’s fortune, and
that’s what'll make anybody’s fortune that will walk by
it.”

“He deserves his fortune, he does,” said a rough.
looking young man, following Jimmy with admiring eyes.
142 THE ROYAL ROAD TO RICHES.

“Some folks are satisfied with climbing up themselves, but
he’s always been trying to help other folks along. He’s
the first man that ever cared what became of me, and I'll
never forget it of him, nor Tim won’t.”

And so,. with kind words and hearty good istive,
Jimmy Marvin took his place as a landowner among the
independent farmers.

The hand of the diligent had wrought out for him not
only wealth, but the good name, which i is better than great
riches. When he comes back, in the Spring, from his
sojourn in the state legislature, I think there will be a
wedding at Shelby, and Mr. Warren will do one thing
more for the Iowa farm, by giving it Alice for a mistress.



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