Paul the Peddler; Or, The Fortunes of a Young Street Merchant

by Jr. Horatio Alger

  CHAPTER VI

  PAUL AS AN ARTIST

  Paul was not slow in following Mike. He was a good runner, and wouldhave had no difficulty in keeping up with his enemy if the streets hadbeen empty. But to thread his way in and out among the numerous footpassengers that thronged the sidewalks was not so easy. He kept uppretty well, however, until, in turning a street corner, he ran at fullspeed into a very stout gentleman, whose scanty wind was quite knockedout of him by the collision. He glared in anger at Paul, but could notat first obtain breath enough to speak.

  "I beg your pardon, sir," said Paul, who, in spite of his desire toovertake Mike, felt it incumbent upon him to stop and offer an apology.

  "What do you mean, sir," exploded the fat man, at last, "by tearingthrough the streets like a locomotive? You've nearly killed me."

  "I am very sorry, sir."

  "You ought to be. Don't you know better than to run at such speed? Youought to be indicted as a public nuisance.

  "I was trying to catch a thief," said Paul.

  "Trying to catch a thief? How's that?" asked the stout gentleman, hisindignation giving way to curiosity.

  "I was selling packages in front of the post office when he and anotherboy came up and stole my basket."

  "Indeed! What were you selling?"

  "Prize packages, sir."

  "What was in them?"

  "Candy."

  "Could you make much that way?"

  "About a dollar a day."

  "I'd rather have given you a dollar than had you run against me withsuch violence. I feel it yet."

  "Indeed, sir, I'm very sorry."

  "Well, I'll forgive you, under the circumstances. What's your name?"

  "Paul Hoffman."

  "Well, I hope you'll get back your basket. Some time, if you see me inthe street, come up and let me know. Would you know me again?"

  "I think I should, sir."

  "Well, good-morning. I hope you'll catch the thief."

  "I thank you, sir."

  They parted company, but Paul did not continue the pursuit. Theconversation in which he had taken part had lasted so long that Mikehad had plenty of time to find a refuge, and there would be no use infollowing him.

  So Paul went home.

  "You are home early, Paul," said his mother. "Surely you haven't soldout by this time."

  "No, but all my packages are gone."

  "How is that?"

  "They were stolen."

  "Tell me about it."

  So Paul told the story.

  "That Mike was awful mean," said Jimmy, indignantly. "I'd like to hithim."

  "I don't think you would hurt him much, Jimmy," said Paul, amused at hislittle brother's vehemence.

  "Then I wish I was a big, strong boy," said Jimmy.

  "I hope you will be, some time."

  "How much was your loss, Paul?" asked his mother.

  "There were nearly forty packages. They cost me about a dollar, but ifI had sold them all they would have brought me in twice as much. I hadonly sold ten packages."

  "Shall you make some more?"

  "No, I think not," said Paul. "I've got tired of the business. It'sgetting poorer every day. I'll go out after dinner, and see if I can'tfind something else to do."

  "You ain't going out now, Paul?" said Jimmy.

  "No, I'll stop and see you draw a little while."

  "That's bully. I'm going to try these oxen."

  "That's a hard picture. I don't think you can draw it, Jimmy."

  "Yes, I can," said the little boy, confidently. "Just see if I don't."

  "Jimmy has improved a good deal," said his mother.

  "You'll be a great artist one of these days, Jimmy," said Paul.

  "I'm going to try, Paul," said the little boy. "I like it so much."

  Little Jimmy had indeed made surprising progress in drawing. With noinstruction whatever, he had succeeded in a very close and accurateimitation of the sketches in the drawing books Paul had purchased forhim. It was a great delight to the little boy to draw, and hour afterhour, as his mother sat at her work, he sat up to the table, and workedat his drawing, scarcely speaking a word unless spoken to, so absorbedwas he in his fascinating employment.

  Paul watched him attentively.

  "You'll make a bully artist, Jimmy," he said, at length, reallysurprised at his little brother's proficiency. "If you keep on a littlelonger, you'll beat me."

  "I wish you'd draw something, Paul," said Jimmy. "I never saw any ofyour drawings."

  "I am afraid, if you saw mine, it would discourage you," said Paul. "Youknow, I'm older and ought to draw better."

  His face was serious, but there was a merry twinkle of fun in his eyes.

  "Of course, I know you draw better," said Jimmy, seriously.

  "What shall I draw?" asked Paul.

  "Try this horse, Paul."

  "All right!" said Paul. "But you must go away; I don't want you to seeit till it is done."

  Jimmy left the table, and Paul commenced his attempt. Now, though Paulis the hero of my story, I am bound to confess that he had not theslightest talent for drawing, though Jimmy did not know it. It was onlyto afford his little brother amusement that he now undertook the task.

  Paul worked away for about five minutes.

  "It's done," he said.

  "So quick?" exclaimed Jimmy, in surprise. "How fast you work!"

  He drew near and inspected Paul's drawing. He had no sooner inspectedit than he burst into a fit of laughter. Paul's drawing was a very roughone, and such a horse as he had drawn will never probably be seen untilthe race has greatly degenerated.

  "What's the matter, Jimmy?" asked Paul. "Don't you like it?"

  "It's awful, Paul," said the little boy, almost choking with mirth.

  "I see how it is," said Paul, with feigned resentment. "You're jealous ofme because you can't draw as well."

  "Oh, Paul, you'll kill me!" and Jimmy again burst into a fit ofmerriment. "Can't you really draw any better?"

  "No, Jimmy," said Paul, joining in the laugh. "I can't draw any betterthan an old cow. You've got all the talent in the family in that line."

  "But you're smart in other ways, Paul," said Jimmy, who had a greatadmiration of Paul, notwithstanding the discovery of his artisticinferiority.

  "I'm glad there's one that thinks so, Jimmy," said Paul. "I'll refer toyou when I want a recommendation."

  Jimmy resumed his drawing, and was proud of the praises which Paulfreely bestowed upon him.

  "I'll get you a harder drawing book when you've got through with these,"said Paul; "that is, if I don't get reduced to poverty by having mystock in trade stolen again."

  After a while came dinner. This meal in Mrs. Hoffman's household usuallycame at twelve o'clock. It was a plain, frugal meal always, but onSunday they usually managed to have something a little better, as theyhad been accustomed to do when Mr. Hoffman was alive.

  Paul was soon through.

  He took his hat from the bureau, and prepared to go out.

  "I'm going out to try my luck, mother," he said. "I'll see if I can'tget into something I like a little better than the prize-packagebusiness."

  "I hope you'll succeed, Paul."

  "Better than I did in drawing horses, eh, Jimmy?"

  "Yes, I hope so, Paul," said the little boy.

  "Don't you show that horse to visitors and pretend it's yours, Jimmy."

  "No danger, Paul."

  Paul went downstairs and into the street. He had no definite plan inhis head, but was ready for anything that might turn up. He did not feelanxious, for he knew there were plenty of ways in which he could earnsomething. He had never tried blacking boots, but still he could do itin case of emergency. He had sold papers, and succeeded fairly in thatline, and knew he could again. He had pitted himself against other boys,and the result had been to give him a certain confidence in his ownpowers and business abilities. When he had first gone into the streetto try his chances there, it had been with a deg
ree of diffidence. Butknocking about the streets soon gives a boy confidence, sometimes toomuch of it; and Paul had learned to rely upon himself; but the influenceof a good, though humble home, and a judicious mother, had kept himaloof from the bad habits into which many street boys are led.

  So Paul, though his stock in trade had been stolen, and he was obligedto seek a new kind of business, was by no means disheartened. He walkeda little way downtown, and then, crossing the City Hall Park, foundhimself on Broadway.

  A little below the Astor House he came to the stand of asidewalk-merchant, who dealt in neckties. Upon an upright framework hunga great variety of ties of different colors, most of which were sold atthe uniform price of twenty-five cents each.

  Paul was acquainted with the proprietor of the stand, and, havingnothing else to do, determined to stop and speak to him.