Alger Horatio Jr.
Sam's Chance, and How He Improved It
CHAPTER IV.
FIRST LESSONS
When supper was over Sam inquired, "What shall we do?"
"Suppose we take a walk?" suggested his companion.
"I'd rather go to the Old Bowery."
"I should like to go, but I can't afford it."
"You get five dollars a week, don't you?"
"Yes; but I need all of it for board, lodging and washing. So will you, too. I advise you to be careful about spending."
"What's the use of living if a fellow can't have a little fun?" grumbled Sam.
"There won't be much fun in going a day or two without anything to eat, Sam."
"We won't have to."
"Let me see about that. It costs a dollar and a quarter for the room, to begin with. Then our meals will cost us as much as forty or fifty cents a day, say three dollars a week. That will leave seventy-five cents for clothes and washing."
"It isn't much," Sam admitted.
"I should think not."
"I don't see how I am going to get any clothes."
"You certainly can't if you go to the theater."
"I used to go sometimes when I was a newsboy, and I didn't earn so much money then."
"Probably you didn't have a regular room then."
"No, I didn't; and sometimes I only had one meal a day."
"That isn't a very nice way to live. You're so old now you ought to be considering what you'll do when you are a man."
"I mean to earn more than five dollars a week then."
"So do I; but if I were a street boy, picking up my living by blacking boots or selling papers, I shouldn't expect to. Now we have a chance to learn business, and improve."
"Were you ever a street boy?" asked Sam, becoming interested in his companion's history.
"No, that is, not over a month. I was born in the country."
"So was I," said Sam.
"My father and mother both died, leaving nothing, and the people wanted to send me to the poorhouse; but I didn't like that, so I borrowed five dollars and came to New York. When I got here I began to think I should have to go back again. I tried to get a place and couldn't. Finally, I bought some papers and earned a little money selling them. It was better than nothing; but all the while I was hoping to get a place. One day, as I was passing the store where I am now, I saw some boys round the door. I asked them what was going on. They told me that Hamilton & Co. had advertised for an errand boy, and they were going to try for the place. I thought I might as well try, too, so I went in and applied. I don't know how it was, but out of about forty boys they took me."
"Did they give you five dollars a week right off?"
"No; I only got three dollars the first year," answered Henry.
"You couldn't live on that, could you?"
"I had to."
"You didn't have the room you have now, did you?"
"I couldn't afford it. I lived at the 'Newsboys Lodge,' and took my breakfast and suppers there. That cost me eighteen cents a day, or about a dollar and a quarter a week. Out of the rest I bought my dinners and clothes. So I got along till the second year, when my wages were raised to four dollars. At the beginning of the third year I got a dollar more."
"I suppose you'll get six dollars next year?"
"I hope so. Mr. Hamilton has promised to put me in the counting-room then."
"It seems a long time to wait," said Sam.
"Yes, if you look ahead; but, after all, time goes fast. Next year I expect to lay up some money."
"Do you think you can?"
"I know I can, if I am well. I've got some money in the savings-bank now."
"You have!" exclaimed Sam, pricking up his ears.
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Thirty dollars."
"Thirty dollars!" ejaculated Sam. "I'd feel rich if I was worth thirty dollars."
Henry smiled.
"I don't feel rich, but I am glad I've got it."
"You ain't saving up money now, are you?"
"I mean to, now that I pay fifty cents a week less rent on account of your coming in with me. I am going to save all that."
"How can you?"
"I shall get along on two dollars and a half for meals. I always have, and I can do it now. You can do it, too, if you want to."
"I should starve to death," said Sam. "I've got a healthy appetite, and my stomach don't feel right if I don't eat enough."
"I don't like to stint myself any more than you, but if I am ever to be worth anything I must begin to save when I am a boy."
"Do you ever smoke?" asked Sam.
"Never, and I wouldn't if it didn't cost anything."
"Why not? It's jolly."
"It isn't good for a boy that is growing, and I don't believe it does men any good. Do you smoke?"
"When I get a chance," said Sam. "It warms a fellow up in cold weather."
"Well, it isn't cold weather now, and you'll find plenty of other ways to spend your money."
"I can't help it. If I don't go to the theater, I must have a cigar."
Sam stopped at a cigar store, and bought a cheap article for three cents, which he lighted and smoked with apparent enjoyment.
The conversation which has been reported will give a clew to the different characters of the two boys, who, after less than a day's acquaintance, have become roommates. Henry Martin was about Sam's age, but much more thoughtful and sedate. He had begun to think of the future, and to provide for it. This is always an encouraging sign, and an augury of success. Sam had not got so far yet. He had been in the habit of living from day to day without much thought of the morrow. Whether he would be favorably affected by Henry's example remains to be seen.
After a walk of an hour or more the boys went back to their room.
"Are you going to bed, Henry?" asked Sam.
"Not yet."
"What are you going to do?"
"Study a little."
"Study!" exclaimed Sam, in astonishment. "Who's goin' to hear your lessons?"
"Perhaps you will," said Henry, with a smile.
"I! Why, I'm a regular know-nothing! What are you going to study?"
"To begin with, I'm going to do some sums."
Henry drew from under the bed a tattered arithmetic and a slate and pencil. He opened the arithmetic at interest, and proceeded to set down a problem on the slate.
"Have you got away over there?" asked Sam.
"Yes; I've been at work ever since last October. I don't get on very fast, because I have only my evenings."
"What do you do when you come to a tough customer?"
"I try again. There are some sums I have tried a half a dozen times."
"You must have a lot of patience," said Sam.
"I don't know about that. I always feel paid when I get the right answer at last."
"It must be dull work studyin' every night. I couldn't do it. It would make my head ache."
"Your head is tougher than you think for," said Henry.
"Just let me see what sum you are tryin'." His roommate handed him the books, and he read the following example:
"John Smith borrowed $546.75 at 7 per cent., and repaid it at the end of two years, five months and six days. What amount was he required to pay?"
"Can you do that?" asked Sam.
"I think so; it isn't very hard."
"I never could do it; it's too hard."
"Oh, yes, you could, if you had gone over the earlier part of the arithmetic."
"What's the use of it, any way?"
"Don't you see it's business? If you are going to be a business man, you may need to understand interest. I shouldn't expect to be promoted if I didn't know something about arithmetic. I am only an errand boy, now, and don't need it."
"I wish I knew as much as you. What else do you study?"
"I practice writing every evening. Here is my writing-book."
Henry drew out, from under the bed, a writing-book, which was more than half written through. He had evidently taken great pains to imitate the copy, and with fair success.
Sam was quite impressed.
"You can write as well as the teacher I went to up in the country," he said.
"You can write, can't you, Sam?"
"Not much. I haven't tried lately."
"Everybody ought to know how to read, and write a decent hand."
"I s'pose so," said Sam; "but there's a lot of work in it."
He got into bed, and while he was watching Henry doing sums, he fell asleep. His roommate devoted an hour to arithmetic, and wrote a page in his copy-book. Then he, too, undressed, and went to bed.
CHAPTER V.
SAM'S FINANCES
Sam did not find it quite so pleasant being in a place as he had anticipated. He had been accustomed to roam about the streets subject only to his own control. Now he was no longer his own master. He must go and come at the will of his employer. To be sure, his earnings were greater than in his street life, and he had a regular home. He knew beforehand where he was going to sleep, and was tolerably sure of a meal. But before the end of the first week he got out of money. This was not strange, for he had begun without any reserve fund.
On the third day he applied to Henry Martin for a loan.
"If you don't lend me some stamps, I'll have to go without breakfast," he said.
"When shall you get your first week's pay?" asked Henry.
"Saturday night, the boss said, though I didn't go to work till Wednesday."
"Then you need money for your meals today and to-morrow?"
"Yes," said Sam.
"I'll lend you a dollar if you'll be sure to pay me up to-morrow night."
"I'll do it, sure."
"There it is, then. Now, Sam, I want to give you a little advice."
"What is it?"
"To-morrow, after paying me and putting by enough to pay the rent of the room, you'll have two dollars and seventy-five cents left."
"So I shall," said Sam, with satisfaction.
"You mustn't forget that this has got to last you for meals for the next week."
"How much is it a day?"
"About forty cents."
"I guess I can make it do."
"I shall get along for two fifty, and you ought to find what you will have left enough."
"I've had to live on ten cents a day more'n once," said Sam.
"That's too little."
"I should think it was. I went to bed hungry, you bet!"
"Well, there's no need of being so economical as that. You've got to eat enough, or you won't be fit for work. You'll have to be careful, though, if you want to come out even."
"Oh, I can manage it," said Sam, confidently.
But Sam was mistaken. He proved himself far from a good calculator. On Sunday he gratified an unusually healthy appetite, besides buying two five-cent cigars. This made necessary an outlay of seventy-five cents. The next day also he overran his allowance. The consequence was that on Wednesday night he went to bed without a cent. He did not say anything about the state of his finances to Henry, however, till the next morning.
"Henry," he said, "I guess I'll have to borrer a little more money."
"What for?" asked his companion.
"I haven't got anything to buy my breakfast with."
"How does that happen?"
"I don't know," said Sam. "I must have lost some out of my pocket."
"I don't think you have. You have been extravagant, that's what's the matter. How much did you spend on Sunday?"
"I don't know."
"I do, for I kept account. You spent seventy-five cents. That's twice as much as you could afford."
"It was only for one day."
"At any rate, you have used up in four days as much as ought to have lasted you the whole week."
"I don't get enough pay," grumbled Sam, who was unprepared with any other excuse.
"There are plenty of boys that have to live on as small pay. I am one of them."
"Will you lend me some money?"
"I'll tell you what I will do. I'll lend you twenty-five cents every morning, and you'll have to make it do all day."
"I can't live on that. You spend more yourself."
"I know I do; but if you spend twice as much as you ought one day, you've got to make it up another."
"Give me the money for three days all at once," said Sam.
"No, I won't."
"Why not?"
"You'd spend it all in one day, and want to borrow some more to-morrow."
"No, I wouldn't."
"Then, you don't need it all the first day."
"You're mean," grumbled Sam.
"No, I'm not. I'm acting like a friend. It's for your own good."
"What can I get for twenty-five cents?"
"That's your lookout. You wouldn't have had to live on it, if you hadn't been too free other days."
In spite of Sam's protestations, Henry remained firm, and Sam was compelled to restrain his appetite for the remainder of the week. I am ashamed to say that, when Saturday night came, Sam tried to evade paying his just debt. But this his roommate would not permit.
"That won't do, Sam," he said. "You must pay me what you owe me."
"You needn't be in such an awful hurry," muttered Sam.
"It's better for both of us that you pay it now," said Henry. "If you didn't, you'd spend it."
"I'll pay you next week. I want to go to hear the minstrels to-night."
"You can't go on borrowed money."
"If I pay you up, I don't have enough to last me till next pay day."
"That's your lookout. Do you know what I would do if I was in your place?"
"What would you do?"
"I'd live on four dollars a week till I'd got five dollars laid aside."
"I'd like the five dollars, but I don't want to starve myself."
"It would be rather inconvenient living on four dollars, I admit, but you would feel paid for it afterward. Besides, Sam, you need some shirts and stockings. I can't keep lending you mine, as I have been doing ever since you came here."
"I can't afford to buy any."
"I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll buy some for you, if you'll agree to pay me up at the rate of fifty cents a week."
"All right!" said Sam, who was very ready to make promises. "Give me the money, and I'll buy some to-night."
"I'd rather go with you, and see that you get them," said Henry, quietly. "You might forget what you were after, and spend the money for something else."
Perhaps Sam recognized the justice of his companion's caution. At any rate, he interposed no objection.
I hope my young readers, who are used to quite a different style of living, will not be shocked on being told that Sam purchased second-hand articles at a place recommended by his roommate. Considering the small sum at his command, he had no choice in the matter. Boys who have to pay their entire expenses out of five dollars a week cannot patronize fashionable tailors or shirt makers. So for three dollars Sam got a sufficient supply to get along with, though hardly enough to make a display at a fashionable watering place.
Sam put the bundle, containing this important addition to his wardrobe under his arm, not without a feeling of complacency.
"Now," said Henry, "it will take you six weeks to pay me for these, at half a dollar a week."
"All right!" said Sam, carelessly.
He was not one to be disturbed about a debt and his companion was shrewd enough to see that he must follow Sam up, if he wanted to get his money paid at the periods agreed upon.
Henry Martin continued to devote a part of every evening to study. He tried to prevail upon Sam to do the same, but without success.
"I get too tired to study," said Sam, and while his roommate was at home he was in the habit of strolling about the streets in search of amusement.
On the next Tuesday evening he met a boy of his acquaintance, who inquired where he was going.
"Nowhere in particular," said Sam.
"Come into French's Hotel, and see them play billiards."
Sam complied.
There was one vacant table, and presently the other proposed a game.
"I can't afford it," said Sam.
"Oh, it won't be much. If you beat me I'll have to pay."
Sam yielded, and they commenced playing, Both being novices, the game occupied an hour, and Sam, who was beaten, found to his dismay that he had to pay sixty cents.
"It don't seem more'n fifteen minutes," he said to himself. "It's awful dear."
"So it is," said his companion; "but if you had beaten me you would have got off for nothing."
"I don't see how I'm goin' to live on five dollars a week," thought Sam, uncomfortably, "I wonder when they'll raise me."
CHAPTER VI.
SAM'S LUCK
When towns and cities find their income insufficient to meet their expenditures, they raise money by selling bonds. Sam would gladly have resorted to this device, or any other likely to replenish his empty treasury; but his credit was not good. He felt rather bashful about applying to his roommate for money, being already his debtor, and, in his emergency, thought of the senior clerk, William Budd.
"Mr. Budd," he said, summoning up his courage, "will you lend me a dollar?"
"What for?" inquired the young man, regarding him attentively.
"I haven't got anything to pay for my meals the rest of the week," said Sam.
"How does that happen?"
"I can't live on five dollars a week."
"Then suppose I lend you a dollar, I don't see that you will be able to repay me."
"Oh, I'll pay you back," said Sam, glibly.
"Have you got any security to offer me?"
"Any security?" asked Sam, who was inexperienced in business.
"Yes. Have you got any houses or lands, any stocks or bonds, which you can put in my hands as collateral?"
"I guess not," said Sam, scratching his head. "If I had any houses, I'd sell 'em, and then I wouldn't have to borrer."
"So you can't get along on five dollars a week?"
"No."
"The boy that was here before you lived on that."
"I've had to pay a lot of money for clothes," Sam explained, brightening up with the idea.
"How much?"
"Well, I had to buy the suit I have on, and then I had to get some shirts the other day."
"How much does it cost you for billiards?" asked William Budd, quietly.
Sam started and looked embarrassed.
"Billiards?" he stammered.
"Yes, that's what I said."
"Who told you I played billiards?"
"No one."
"I guess you're mistaken, then," said Sam, more boldly, concluding that it was only a conjecture of his fellow clerk.
"I don't think I am. I had occasion to go into French's Hotel, to see a friend in the office, and I glanced into the billiard room. I saw you playing with another boy of about your age. Did he beat you?"
"Yes."
"And you had to pay for the game. Don't you think, as your income is so small, that you had better stop playing billiards till you get larger pay?"
"I don't play very often," said Sam, uneasily.
"I advise you not to let Mr. Dalton know that you play at all. He would be apt to think that you were receiving too high pay, since you could afford to pay for this amusement."
"I hope you won't tell him," said Sam, anxiously.
"No, I don't tell tales about my fellow clerks."
"Then won't you lend me a dollar?" inquired Sam, returning to the charge.
"I would rather not, under the circumstances."
Sam was disappointed. He had five cents left to buy lunch with, and his appetite was uncommonly healthy.
"Why wasn't I born rich?" thought Sam. "I guess I have a pretty hard time. I wish I could find a pocket-book or something."
Sam was a juvenile Micawber, and trusted too much to something turning up, instead of going to work and turning it up himself.
However, strangely enough, something did turn up that very afternoon.
Restricted to five cents, Sam decided to make his lunch of apples. For this sum an old woman at the corner would supply him with three, and they were very "filling" for the price. After eating his apples he took a walk, being allowed about forty minutes for lunch. He bent his steps toward Wall Street, and sauntered along, wishing he were not obliged to go back to the office.
All at once his eye rested on a gold ring lying on the sidewalk at his feet. He stooped hurriedly, and picked it up, putting it in his pocket without examination, lest it might attract the attention of the owner, or some one else who would contest its possession with him.
"That's almost as good as a pocket-book," thought Sam, elated. "It's gold – I could see that. I can get something for that at the pawnbroker's. I'll get some supper to-night, even if I can't borrer any money."
Some boys would have reflected that the ring was not theirs to pawn; but Sam, as the reader has found out by this time, was not a boy of high principles. He had a very easy code of morality, and determined to make the most of his good fortune.
When he got a chance he took a look at his treasure.
There was a solitary diamond, of considerable size, set in it. Sam did not know much about diamonds, and had no conception of the value of this stone. His attention was drawn chiefly to the gold, of which there was considerable. He thought very little of the piece of glass, as he considered it.
"I'd orter get five dollars for this," he thought, complacently. "Five dollars will be a great help to a poor chap like me. I'll go round to the pawnbroker's just as soon as I get out of the store."
William Budd was rather puzzled by Sam's evident good spirits. Considering that he was impecunious enough to require a loan which he had been unable to negotiate, it was rather remarkable.
"Have you succeeded in borrowing any money, Sam?" he asked, with some curiosity.
"No," answered Sam, with truth; "I haven't asked anybody but you."
"You don't seem to mind it much."
"What's the use of fretting?" said Sam. "I'm expecting a legacy from my uncle."
"How much?"
"Five dollars."
"That isn't very large. I hope you won't have to wait for it too long."
"No, I hope not. I guess I'll get along."
"Did you get any lunch?"
"Yes, I bought three apples."
"Did they fill you up?" asked Budd, with a smile.
"There's a little room left," answered Sam, "if you'd like to try the experiment."
"There's a peanut, then."
"Thankful for small favors. I'm afraid it'll be lonely if you don't give me another."
"Take that, then; it's the last one I have."
"He's a good-natured boy, after all," thought the young clerk. "Some boys would have been offended with me for having refused to lend."
He did not understand the cause of Sam's good spirits, but thought him unusually light hearted.
When the office closed, and Sam was released from duty, he took his way at once to a small pawn office with which he had become familiar in the course of his varied career, though he had not often possessed anything of sufficient value to pawn.
The pawnbroker, a small old man, a German by birth, scanned Sam attentively, regarding him as a possible customer.
"How do you do, my boy?" he said, politely.
"Oh, I'm tiptop. Have you got any money to give away?"
"What shall I give it for?" asked the old man.
"I've got a ring here," said Sam, "that I want to pawn."
"Show it to me."
The pawnbroker started in surprise and admiration when his eye fell on the sparkling brilliant.
"Where did you get it?" he asked.
"It was left by my grandmother," said Sam, promptly.
The pawnbroker shrugged his shoulders, not believing a word of the story.
"Isn't it a nice ring?" asked Sam.
"So so," answered the old man. "I have seen much better. How much do you want for it?"
"How much will you give me?"
"Two dollars," answered the old man.
"Then you won't get it," said Sam. "You won't get it for a cent under five."
"That is too much," said the old man, from force of habit. "I'll give you four."
"No, you won't. You'll give me five; and I won't sell it for that, neither. I may want to get it back, as it was my aunt's."
"You said your grandmother left it to you," said the old man, shrewdly.
"So she did," answered Sam, unabashed; "but she left it to my aunt first. When my aunt died it came to me."
Without dwelling upon the efforts which the pawnbroker made to get the ring cheaper, it is sufficient to say that Sam carried his point, and marched out of the store with five dollars and a pawn ticket in his pocket.
