Alger Horatio Jr.
From Farm to Fortune; or, Nat Nason's Strange Experience
CHAPTER X
OUT OF WORK ONCE MORE
During the time that he worked in the wholesale paper establishment Nat wrote a long letter to Sam Price, telling his friend of his adventures since leaving home, and asking for news from the farm. A few days later an answer came back, which ran as follows:
"I got your letter and found it very interesting. I hope you make your fortune in the city. It's certainly a fine place to go to, and maybe I'll try it myself some day. Country life is awful slow, and work is mighty hard. I have been hoeing corn to-day till my back aches ready to fall apart.
"Your uncle was awful mad to think you had run away, and madder still when he found you had sold the cow. He thought you were hiding in Cleveland, and he stayed in that city three days before he gave up the search. He claims that the cow belonged to him—that he took it for board and clothing for you, and he also sticks to it that you tried to burn down his barn. He says he is going to make it hot for you if he ever finds you. You can make sure I shan't tell him where you are."
Nat read the letter with keen interest, not once but several times, and shook his head slowly over the communication.
"I suppose Uncle Abner will always think I set fire to the barn," he thought. "Wish I could catch the person who really did do it. Must have been some tramp who was sleeping there and using a pipe."
At the end of the third week's work Nat had seven dollars saved, of which amount he was reasonably proud. But now came a setback for which he was not prepared.
"We have sold this concern to another party," said one of the proprietors to him. "After Saturday your services will be no longer required."
"Won't the new bosses need me?"
"No, for they have all the help of their own that they can use. Only our head bookkeeper will remain."
This was on Thursday, and during the balance of the week our hero looked around in his spare hours for another position, but without success. Monday morning found him doing nothing.
"As you said, it is not so easy to get a hold," said he to Dick. "Still, I don't feel quite so green as when I first reached New York. I at least know something about the streets and the stores."
Nat lost no time in looking for another place. But nothing turned up Monday or Tuesday, and Wednesday it rained so hard that he did not go out until after noon. Then he visited a fashionable wholesale jewelry establishment. Here he was asked to wait, while one of the proprietors interviewed a young man who had come in ahead of our hero.
The young man was dressed as a perfect dude, with a light checked suit, and very light gloves. He spoke with a drawl, and Nat heard every word that he said.
"What is your business, sir?" asked the jeweler.
"I believe, sir," said the young gentleman, "that you advertised for a—aw—a secretary."
"A clerk, yes, sir."
"Aw, all the same. Well, sir—aw—if we can agree upon terms, I should be—aw—flattered to proffer my services."
"Ah, indeed!" And the jeweler raised his eyebrows slightly.
"Yes, sir. You will be pleased to learn that all my connections—aw—move in the first circles."
"Undoubtedly that is very gratifying. But you mentioned terms. May I ask you what you expect?"
"Well, sir, perhaps a couple of thousand or so, a year. Then, I should wish to make certain stipulations—aw—as to the time I'm employed."
"Go on."
"For example, I never—aw—get up very early. I think it injures the health. But I think I could manage to get to the office by ten in the morning."
"I see."
"Then, I should want—aw—to have Saturday afternoons to myself, both in winter and summer. I always go to the theater matinées—so many—aw—pretty girls there," continued the dude.
"And what else?"
"I should not want to work later than five in the afternoon. Excessive labor is injurious to the health."
"Perhaps that is true."
"Then I should—aw—wish it understood that I could have five or six weeks off in the summer, so that I can visit the springs or the seashore," continued the dude. "Is that satisfactory?"
"I suppose it would be, to you," answered the jeweler.
"I think so."
"It wouldn't satisfy us at all."
"Really! That is too bad!"
"We want a man here who can work, and who is not afraid of long hours, and who doesn't set quite such a high figure on his services. You'll never fill the bill in the wide world. Good-day!"
"Really!" murmured the dude, and after staring at the jeweler, he turned on his heel and left in utter disgust. Several who had overheard the interview laughed out-right.
"What a perfect fool!" thought Nat. "I wonder if anybody will ever give him anything to do?"
"What can I do for you, young man?" asked the jeweler, turning to the boy.
"I am looking for work, sir."
"Are your expectations as high as those of the chap who just left?"
"No, sir. I am willing to work hard and I am not afraid of long hours."
"Then you are not a dude?"
"No, sir. Do I look like one?"
"You look like a country lad."
"I came from the country about a month ago. I've been working for Trumbull & Davison, the paper dealers. But they have sold out to another firm and don't need me any longer."
"I see. Well, I am sorry for you, for you look bright and honest. But I need somebody with experience in the jewelry line."
"Then you haven't any place that I can fill?"
"No, I—but hold on. I'll tell you what I might do. Do you know anything about horses?"
"Yes, sir."
"And about a garden?"
"Yes, sir. I was brought up on a farm."
"I need a man around my country home in New Jersey. I might try you there, at twelve dollars a month and your board."
Again Nat's face fell.
"Thank you, but I want to get something to do in the city," said he. "I am tired of farm life."
"Then I can't give you anything," and the jeweler turned away.
During the remainder of the day Nat visited several other stores and offices. But everywhere he received the same answer—that he was too late and the position advertised was already filled.
"Perhaps I did wrong not to take that position over in New Jersey," he thought, on his way to his boarding house. "But I don't want to go back to farm work if I can help it."
Two additional days passed, and still Nat found nothing to do, although he tramped from Forty-second Street clear down to the Battery several times. Then he obtained a job which lasted three days and paid him but two dollars.
"This isn't earning a living," he reasoned. "Unless I do better I'll have to try selling papers or blacking boots."
One morning he did try selling papers, under the tutorship of Dick, but the effort was not a success. By noon he had earned exactly nineteen cents and had sixteen papers still on hand.
"I guess you wasn't cut out for a newsboy," said Dick, frankly. "What you want to do is, to get a steady job in a store or office."
"Yes, but the jobs are mighty scarce," answered Nat.
A week passed, and the country boy could find nothing more to do that was steady. One day he helped a man distribute bills, and on another occasion he carried out packages for a florist, and the two jobs brought him in just a dollar. By this time the soles were worn from his shoes and he had to have them mended.
"Making one's way in the city isn't so easy after all," he thought one night, as he sat in his little room, on the edge of the bed. He had been counting up his money and found that he had but a little over four dollars left.
"I'll have to give Mrs. Talcott three and a half of that," he continued, "and that will leave me sixty-five cents. I've got to hustle or I'll be high and dry by next week."
Nat hustled all of the next week, but without results. In one store the proprietor was unusually harsh to him, and he came back to Mrs. Talcott's house more downcast than ever.
"I guess they don't want me in New York after all," he mused. "If I can't get something to do I can't stay here, for Mrs. Talcott can't afford to keep me. I'll have to starve!"
He was so disheartened that he did not feel like eating. Immediately after the meal he went to his little room. Then, of a sudden he thought of the letter Paul Hampton had given him.
"I may as well open that," he reasoned. "Goodness knows I am short enough of funds, and pretty well discouraged too."
The letter was in his pocket, still pinned fast, and he brought it forth and gazed at it speculatively.
"It would be just like him to put a five-dollar bill in it," he thought.
With his penknife he slit the envelope open, and looked inside. It contained a slip of paper and another slip, of a green color.
"A bill, as sure as I'm in this room!" he ejaculated. "I don't suppose it's less than a five, and maybe it's a ten. If he—well I declare!"
Nat rushed to the window to look at the bill, and then with a gasp he sank back on the only chair which the little bedroom contained. He could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses.
The bank bill was one for a hundred dollars.
CHAPTER XI
WHAT A HUNDRED DOLLARS DID
Nat continued to gaze at the bill like one in a dream. He had never seen a greenback that was worth a hundred dollars before, but he had no doubt of its genuineness.
"A hundred dollars!" he repeated several times. "Why, it's a small fortune!"
Then he began to wonder if Paul Hampton had not made a mistake, and turned to the slip of paper, upon which he found written:
"I give you this hundred dollars for what you did for me at Niagara Falls. Don't be discouraged. If you ever need a friend, write or come and see me. I sincerely hope the money will bring you good fortune."
"What a kind man," murmured Nat, and read the note again. "It was a mighty lucky thing for me that I went to the Falls."
When he went to bed he felt rich, and he came to the breakfast table whistling merrily.
"Hullo," cried Dick, "have you struck luck at last?"
"I'm in luck in one way," answered our hero. "Look at that," and he showed the bank bill.
"Why, it's a hundred dollars, Nat!" And the newsboy's eyes opened widely.
"Exactly."
"Where on earth did you get the money?"
"A gentleman gave it to me."
"What for?"
"For saving his life. But I didn't know I had it until I went to bed last night."
"You're talking in riddles."
"I'll explain," and then our hero told as much of the Niagara Falls episode as he deemed necessary.
"Here is the note," he concluded, showing the slip of paper, which was unsigned. "I don't feel at liberty to mention the gentleman's name. I don't think it would be just right."
"A rich man like that would be a fool to commit suicide," said Dick, bluntly. "What are you going to do with all that money?"
"I don't know. But I shan't squander it, I can tell you that."
"You can go into business for yourself on that amount."
"Maybe, but I guess I had better keep on hunting for a job. I can go into business for myself when I know more about New York."
"That's where you are sensible. You might lose your money in double-quick time in your own business."
Nat put the bill away very carefully, and then went out to look for a position as before. But the week passed and nothing turned up.
On Sunday the country boy attended a church in the vicinity of his boarding house, and in the afternoon he took a walk to Central Park. In the evening he stayed at home and read a paper which Dick brought in.
As was natural Nat read over the want advertisements very carefully. It was not long before he came to one which excited his curiosity. The advertisement was as follows:
"WANTED—A clerk, to whom a liberal salary will be paid. One preferred who comes from the country and is not too old. References expected. Must deposit $100 as security, for which interest will be paid. Inquire Room 24, Dallax Building, Broadway."
"That ought to strike me," mused Nat, as he laid down the paper. "Just the thing, and no mistake. I'll go and see about it."
Our hero had acquired sufficient knowledge of New York to find the place indicated in the advertisement without much trouble. It was a four-story stone building, and he walked up two flights of stairs until he reached Room 24. On the door was the sign:
Hamilton Dart
Brokerage and Commissions
Entering the office he found it plainly but neatly furnished with two desks and several chairs. In front of one of the desks sat a middle-aged man, well dressed, and smoking a cigar.
"Is this Mr. Dart?" questioned Nat, taking off his hat.
"That is my name," responded Hamilton Dart, with a keen glance at our hero.
"Did you advertise for a clerk. I saw an advertisement–"
"Oh, yes!" interrupted the man. "Pray be seated," and he motioned to one of the chairs. "You came to see about the place, did you?"
"Yes, sir. You advertised that you would like somebody from the country, and that hits me."
"You came from the country to try your luck?"
"Yes, sir. I got tired of the farm."
Hamilton Dart smiled good-naturedly, and blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling of his office.
"I don't blame you. I got tired of the farm myself when I was about your age, and came here with less than a hundred dollars in my pocket."
"Well, I came with just a little more than that," answered Nat, innocently.
"Indeed! Then you are better off than I was. But I shan't complain, for I have made money right along. But what do you think I am worth now?"
"I don't know, I am sure—five or ten thousand dollars maybe."
"Nearly fifty thousand dollars," and Hamilton Dart looked at Nat, coolly and innocently.
"Fifty thousand!" cried the boy. "You've certainly been lucky. I wish I could make that much."
"You have the same opportunities that I had. Let me see, what did you say your name was?"
"I didn't say. It is Nat Nason."
"I am glad to know you. You have a bright and honest face, and faces count a good deal with me."
This was gratifying to Nat, and he could not help but think that Mr. Dart was a pleasant gentleman with whom to deal.
"I advertised for a country young man because I was that myself once, and I like to help country young men along," continued Hamilton Dart. "You are out of work at present?"
"Yes, sir. I worked for a firm, but they sold out to another firm."
"I see. Have you any recommendations? Not that they are strictly necessary from one who looks so honest."
"I can refer you to the firm I worked for."
"That will be satisfactory, although I don't mind telling you that I am very particular in the selection of my clerks. So far I have rejected seventeen who applied."
"I should try my best to do what was right," answered Nat, modestly.
"That is the way I like to hear a person talk."
"Then you will take me?"
"We haven't agreed on terms yet. What do you expect in the way of salary?"
"I guess I'll leave that to you," answered Nat, after some hesitation.
"What did you get at your last place?"
"Seven dollars a week."
"Humph! Your employer was not very liberal. A clerk that is worth anything to me is worth ten dollars a week at least."
The mentioning of ten dollars made Nat's heart jump.
"If you'll pay me ten dollars a week, Mr. Dart, I'll do my level best to earn it."
"Do you write a fair hand?"
"Here is my handwriting," answered the boy, and wrote his name on a piece of paper.
"That is quite good—for a boy. I think you will improve by practice. Here you will have quite some writing to do, and bills to sort out. But the work will not be difficult, for the summer is our dull season."
"I see."
"By the way, I suppose you know I require a deposit of one hundred dollars from each of my clerks," went on Hamilton Dart, with assumed carelessness. "Sometimes my clerks have quite some money to handle for me."
"I can make that deposit," answered Nat. "Will I get a receipt for it?"
"To be sure, and I will also pay you six per cent. interest on the money. You can have it back whenever you leave my service. When can you make the deposit?"
"Right now, if you say so."
"Very well; I'll make out the receipt."
Hamilton Dart wrote out a receipt for a hundred dollars, and signed his name with a flourish. He passed it to Nat, and the boy handed him the hundred-dollar bill.
"You don't believe in carrying small bills," said the man, with an assumed smile.
"That is the only big bill I ever owned," was the answer.
Hamilton Dart pocketed the bill, and looked out of the window as if in deep thought.
"I was thinking you might go to work to-day, but perhaps it will be as well to go to work to-morrow," he said, after a pause. "Come at nine o'clock sharp."
"I will, sir."
"Then that is all for the present. I am sure we will get along very well together. To-morrow another clerk will be here to help you along."
Hamilton Dart turned to his desk, and began to write. Feeling himself dismissed, Nat said "good-morning," and bowed himself out. The man listened to his footsteps as he descended the stairs, and then gave a low chuckle.
"That was easy, Nick," he muttered. "Two so far. I wonder how many more fools I'll catch before the game plays out?"
CHAPTER XII
ON THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE
"Well, I've struck luck again," said Nat, when he arrived at his boarding place, and met Dick Talcott.
"Got a job?" questioned the newsboy.
"Yes."
"I hope you're going to get pretty good wages?"
"Ten dollars per week," answered Nat, with just a trace of pride in his voice.
"Ten dollars. That is luck. What at?"
"I'm in a broker's office, and I'm to do writing and sorting out bills."
"Where is the place?"
"Down on Broadway."
"I'm glad to hear of this, Nat," said the newsboy. "Wish I could strike something like that."
"Perhaps you will some day, Dick."
"The trouble is I can't write very well. I never had much schooling."
"If you wish, I'll teach you how to write. It always came easy to me."
"Will you teach me? I'll do my best to learn. We can go at it nights."
Early on the following morning, Nat presented himself at the office on Broadway. He had shined his shoes and brushed his clothes, and presented a very neat appearance. He found Hamilton Dart at his desk, and smoking as before.
"I wish you to go to the post office for me," said the man, as soon as he entered. "Go to the general delivery window and ask for letters for Samuel Barrows. That is my sick brother-in-law who is visiting me from Michigan."
"Yes, sir."
"Of course you know where the post office is?"
"Oh, yes. I've been past there several times."
"You needn't be in a hurry. Wait until they sort the eleven-o'clock mail."
"Yes, sir."
The distance to the post office was a considerable one. But Nat was a good walker, and found it was only half-past nine when he got there. To while away the time he determined to walk out on the Brooklyn Bridge and take in the sights from that elevated structure.
Making his way through the crowd on Park Row, he was soon out on the bridge, and walking in the direction of Brooklyn. There was a stiff breeze blowing, and several times his hat was almost lifted from his head.
Suddenly he heard a shout, and saw a stout man running wildly after some papers which the wind was carrying along the walk on the bridge. The man secured one of the papers, but two others were fast blowing beyond his reach, when Nat rushed up and secured them just as they were on the point of being carried into the river.
"Have—you—got them?" puffed the man, as Nat came towards him.
"Yes, sir. Here you are," and Nat held out the papers.
"Good! I was afraid they were lost to me!" And the stranger heaved a heavy sigh of relief.
"Were they valuable?" asked our hero, curiously.
"Quite so. They are the legal documents in an important real estate case now before the courts. It was very kind of you to pick them up for me."
"Oh, it wasn't so much to do," answered Nat.
"Nevertheless, I am much obliged," added the stout man, warmly. "I shouldn't have come out on the bridge with them. But I love to get the breeze. I think it does me good. Much obliged;" and then he passed on.
"I guess he's a lawyer, or a real estate dealer," thought Nat. "Well, he ought to walk. It may take some of the fat off of him."
Nat walked half-way to Brooklyn, and then back again. Shortly after eleven o'clock he presented himself at the proper window of the post office.
"Has the eleven o'clock mail been sorted yet?" he asked.
"Certainly."
"Have you any letters for Samuel Barrows?"
The clerk looked through one of the boxes beside him.
"Nothing," he answered, briefly.
"Nothing at all?"
The post office clerk shook his head. Seeing this Nat walked away, and started back for the office.
He did not suspect that his employer had sent him to the post office merely to get him out of the office, yet such was the fact. Hamilton Dart had no brother-in-law named Samuel Barrows.
As a matter of fact, Hamilton Dart—that was not his real name, but let us use it for the present, nevertheless—was nothing but a swindler. He was worth only a few hundred dollars, and his brokerage and commission business was such in name only.
While Nat was on his post office errand, Hamilton Dart had two other callers. The first was a bright young man, hailing from Newark, New Jersey.
"I am sure you will suit me," said Hamilton Dart, after questioning the young man. "I am very much pleased with your appearance."
"Thank you," was the brief answer.
"You may go to work to-morrow at twelve dollars per week. Will that suit?"
"Yes, sir."
"You will, of course, put up one hundred dollars as security," added the assumed broker.
"What security will you give?" demanded the bright young man from Newark.
"Oh, I'll give you my personal note," answered Hamilton Dart, carelessly.
"Well, I'll think it over."
"Eh? I thought you wanted to accept on the spot?" demanded the swindler.
"No, sir," answered the young man. He intended to make some inquiries into Hamilton Dart's financial standing before investing his cash. "I'll come around again to-morrow morning."
"I shall give the place to somebody else before that time," was the cold response.
"If you do, I'll be out of it," was the equally cold answer of the young Jerseyman, and he walked out of the office.
"One fish I didn't land," muttered Hamilton Dart to himself. "Better luck next time."
Hardly had the young man left than a sickly-looking middle-aged man appeared. He had been in the hospital for two months, and out of work for twice that length of time.
"You advertised for a clerk," he said, sitting down on a chair.
"Yes."
"I am a bookkeeper, and an all-round office man," added the sick man. "I am willing to work hard for low wages."
"I am always willing to pay good wages to the right man," answered Hamilton Dart, smoothly.
At this the face of the sick man brightened.
"I have been sick," he went on, apologetically. "But I am getting stronger every day."
"Well, the work here is not very hard."
"What could you pay me?"
"Twelve dollars per week."
"That would suit me nicely."
"Then you can come to work to-morrow. But you will have to put up one hundred dollars as security. On that I will allow you six per cent. interest."
At this announcement the face of the sick man fell.
"I am very sorry, sir, but I haven't the money. My sickness has reduced me almost to my last dollar."
"Then I can't hire you," said Hamilton Dart, harshly.
"I can give you some excellent references, sir."
"No, I don't care for references. My clerks have to furnish cash security. I employ no others. You had better see if you can't raise the money."
"I don't know how I can do it."
"Haven't you any friends or relatives?"
"I have a sister in Brooklyn. She might possibly loan the amount."
"Then you had better see her. I will keep the place open for you for a couple of days."
The sick man pleaded to be taken on, but Hamilton Dart was obdurate, and at last the visitor left the office.
"Hang the luck; he must take me for a charity association," muttered the swindler. "Two lost! This business isn't paying as well as I hoped it would."
When Nat came back he was somewhat tired from his long tramp. He asked his employer what he should do next.
"Go and get your lunch, and be back in an hour," was the answer.
Hardly had Nat left the office than a young fellow named Harry Bray appeared. He had been in to see Hamilton Dart before and carried a hundred dollars in his vest pocket.
"I will take the position," he said, and handed over his money, which the swindler pocketed with alacrity.
"When shall I go to work?" asked Harry Bray.
"After lunch. You will have another new clerk to help you, a fellow named Nat Nason," answered Hamilton Dart.
