Chapter IV

The next day David sold twice as many papers as he had sold the day before. He carried thirty-six cents home to his mother that night. This was as much money as his mother had earned, and he was as proud as a lord of what he had done.

David now found himself settled in the business; and in a few weeks his mother bought him a suit of clothes with the money he had earned. They had a great many nice things at the cottage, which they had not had since Mr. White’s death.

But the little merchant did not always have such good luck as on the first days. When he sold all his papers one day, and had calls for more than he could supply, he asked Mr. Field to bring him six dozen. Then he could not sell them, and this caused a loss.

There were a few bad boys in Riverdale, and David had some trouble with them. One day, when he was running across a field with his bundle of papers under his arm, Joe Birch stopped him. He was a bad boy, and did not like David, because the little merchant was a good boy, and would not idle away his time with him.

“How many papers have you sold, David?” asked Joe.

“About twenty,” replied David.

“Give me one--will you?”

“I can’t give them away; I have to pay for them.”

“What if you do?--can’t you give me one?”

“If I have any left, I will give you one,” said David.

Then he tried to get away from the bad boy; but Joe tripped him up, and he fell at full length on the ground. David did not care for the fall, but all the money in his pocket came out, and was scattered about in the grass.

Joe was a good deal larger than David, and our little hero was afraid of him. So he did not dare to say any thing, though he felt very bad indeed. He had a stout heart, but he felt very much like crying. This would do no good; so he began to pick up the cents.

The bad boy said he would help him, and began to look in the grass with David; but he did not give him any of the money he found. The little merchant, after he had looked a long while, found only one half of what he had lost. He felt very bad at the idea of losing ten cents; but he did not say any thing about his loss, and ran on to leave a paper at the house on the other side of the field.

“Hallo, David!” shouted Joe.

“What do you want?” asked David.

“Do you mean to say I have got any of the money?”

“I didn’t say so.”

“’Cause if you do, I’ll whip you.”

“I didn’t say so.”

“Yes, you did.”

David did not answer him again, but ran with all his might to the house. When he got to the door, he could not control his feelings any longer, and burst into tears.

“What is the matter, David?” asked John Gray, the farmer’s son, as he gave him a paper.

“I lost my money in the field,” sobbed David.

“Joe Birch was with you--wasn’t he?”

“Yes; and he tripped me up, and when I fell, the money all came out of my pocket, and I lost ten cents.”

“You go back and ask Joe Birch if he has any of it. I know he has got some of it.”

“I don’t like to do that; Joe will whip me if I do.”

“You go and ask him, and I will be there in a minute.”

David did not like to do so, but John Gray said so much that at last he agreed to go. When he reached the field again, Joe was leaving it; but he called after him, and he stopped.

“Did you find any of my money, Joe?” asked David, who spoke in a very civil manner.

“No, I did not. Do you mean to say I got any of it? If you do, I’ll whip you.”

“I don’t say so.”

“Yes, you do.”

Joe doubled up his fist, and moved towards David. Our little merchant walked away from him; but just then John Gray came to the spot.

“He says I’ve got some of his money,” said Joe, as John joined them.

“Haven’t you got some of it?”

“No.”

“Turn out your pockets, and let me see,” said John.

“I don’t want to do that; but I haven’t got any of his money,” replied Joe.

The bad boy then tried to run away; but John caught him, and turned his pockets out for him. In one of them he found eight of the cents David had lost. John gave them to David, and told Joe if he touched him again, he would put him in prison for stealing.

David was very glad to get his money again; and while John held Joe, he ran off to sell the rest of his papers. Joe was afraid of being put in prison for what he had done; so he did not dare to whip David for telling John about it.

This was only one of David’s trials. He told his mother about it when he got home. She said he must not mind it, and that he must have nothing to do with Joe, for he was a very wicked boy. She told him he must not heed these troubles, for every body in the world has to meet them.

David kept on selling papers for several years, and the money he earned in this way helped his mother very much, and no mother could be more happy in having such a good son. I hope all my little friends will do all they can to help their mothers. If they cannot sell papers, they can do a great many things. They can at least be good boys and girls, and this will help their mothers a good deal, and make life very pleasant to them.

THE NEWSBOY.

“Cast thy bread upon the waters, and thou shalt find it after many
days.”

Many years ago there lived in Boston a carpenter whose name was John Lowe. He was very far from being a rich man, and, though he received fair wages for his labor, he had a wife and four children to support.

One Saturday evening, as he was going down to the market, a little boy of about ten years of age stepped up to him, and asked if he would set him up in the newspaper business.

The newsboys, in the large cities of the United States, make from four to six cents a dozen on the papers they sell; but they have to be active, and I am sure they earn their money. It requires a little capital to start with; and to obtain this, the boy had accosted John Lowe.

“How much do you want, my boy?” asked he.

“Fifty cents, sir, if you please,” replied the boy, whose name was Henry Small. “But I will pay it to you again, just as soon as ever I can.”

The carpenter hesitated; but the boy looked honest, and told him a pitiful story of misfortune and want at home; and he finally gave him the money.

In two weeks, Henry Small called at the carpenter’s house, and paid the half dollar he had borrowed. It was sixteen years before he saw him again.

In that time John Lowe had grown old and feeble. He could not labor much, and when hard times came he had no work, and had nothing with which to buy bread for himself and his wife.

Two of his children had died, and the other two were sailors, and far away from home. He had no one to help him, and he feared that he should be obliged to go to the almshouse.

Every day he went out, hoping to find a job by which he could earn enough to buy food for himself and his wife; but he was disappointed.

At last he made up his mind to apply to the overseers of the poor for assistance, for he had not even a loaf of bread in the house, or any money.

On his way to the City Hall, he entered a store where some carpenters were at work making alterations, and asked the master workman for a job.

“I can give you no work here,” was the rough reply.

The unkindness of the answer touched his feelings, and a tear slid down his cheek.

“What do you want?” asked a gentleman, in kind tones.

He was the person who was about to go into business in the store.

“I want work, sir, for I am very poor,” replied John Lowe.

“Haven’t I seen you before, somewhere?” asked the gentleman. “I am sure I have.”

“I don’t know, sir. My name is John Lowe; I am a carpenter by trade.”

“John Lowe!” exclaimed the gentleman, grasping his hand. “Don’t you know me?”

“I do not, indeed, sir.”

“My name is Henry Small. You set me up in the newspaper business sixteen years ago.”

“I do remember; and I judge by your looks that the world has used you better than it has me.”

“It has used me very well--perhaps better than I deserve.”

John Lowe then told his story, with many tears.

“Do not weep,” said Henry Small. “I have done well since we parted sixteen years ago. The half dollar you lent me has been the foundation of my fortune. I have some thousands of dollars now; but had I only a dollar I would divide it with you.”

John Lowe had all he wanted as long as he lived. He worked on good wages in Mr. Small’s store for a time; but when he could no longer work, he was well cared for by his friend.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the
public domain.