“I shall have to wind up my letter now, as I have to hand in a composition tomorrow, on the life and character of Washington. I might say that I have a friend who wears a coat that once belonged to the general. But I suppose that coat must be worn out by this time. I don’t much like writing compositions. I would a good deal rather write letters.
“I have written a longer letter than I meant to. I hope you will get it, though I am afraid not. If you do, you must be sure to answer it, as soon as possible. You needn’t mind if your writing does look like ‘hens-tracks,’ as you told me once.
Dick read this letter with much satisfaction. It is always pleasant to be remembered, and Dick had so few friends that it was more to him than to boys who are better provided. Again, he felt a new sense of importance in having a letter addressed to him. It was the first letter he had ever received. If it had been sent to him a year before, he would not have been able to read it. But now, thanks to Fosdick’s instructions, he could not only read writing, but he could write a very good hand himself.
There was one passage in the letter which pleased Dick. It was where Frank said that if he had the money he would pay for his education himself.
“He’s a tip-top feller,” said Dick. “I wish I could see him ag’in.”
There were two reasons why Dick would like to have seen Frank. One was, the natural pleasure he would have in meeting a friend; but he felt also that he would like to have Frank witness the improvement he had made in his studies and mode of life.
“He’d find me a little more ’spectable than when he first saw me,” thought Dick.
Dick had by this time got up to Printing House Square. Standing on Spruce Street, near the Tribune office, was his old enemy, Micky Maguire.
It has already been said that Micky felt a natural enmity towards those in his own condition in life who wore better clothes than himself. For the last nine months, Dick’s neat appearance had excited the ire of the young Philistine. To appear in neat attire and with a clean face Micky felt was a piece of presumption, and an assumption of superiority on the part of our hero, and he termed it “tryin’ to be a swell.”
Now his astonished eyes rested on Dick in his ancient attire, which was very similar to his own. It was a moment of triumph to him. He felt that “pride had had a fall,” and he could not forbear reminding Dick of it.
“Them’s nice clo’es you’ve got on,” said he, sarcastically, as Dick came up.
“Yes,” said Dick, promptly. “I’ve been employin’ your tailor. If my face was only dirty we’d be taken for twin brothers.”
“So you’ve give up tryin’ to be a swell?”
“Only for this partic’lar occasion,” said Dick. “I wanted to make a fashionable call, so I put on my regimentals.”
“I don’t b’lieve you’ve got any better clo’es,” said Micky.
“All right,” said Dick, “I won’t charge you nothin’ for what you believe.”
Here a customer presented himself for Micky, and Dick went back to his room to change his clothes, before resuming business.
XXV
Dick Writes His First Letter
When Fosdick reached home in the evening, Dick displayed his letter with some pride.
“It’s a nice letter,” said Fosdick, after reading it. “I should like to know Frank.”
“I’ll bet you would,” said Dick. “He’s a trump.”
“When are you going to answer it?”
“I don’t know,” said Dick, dubiously. “I never writ a letter.”
“That’s no reason why you shouldn’t. There’s always a first time, you know.”
“I don’t know what to say,” said Dick.
“Get some paper and sit down to it, and you’ll find enough to say. You can do that this evening instead of studying.”
“If you’ll look it over afterwards, and shine it up a little.”
“Yes, if it needs it; but I rather think Frank would like it best just as you wrote it.”
Dick decided to adopt Fosdick’s suggestion. He had very serious doubts as to his ability to write a letter. Like a good many other boys, he looked upon it as a very serious job, not reflecting that, after all, letter-writing is nothing but talking upon paper. Still, in spite of his misgivings, he felt that the letter ought to be answered, and he wished Frank to hear from him. After various preparations, he at last got settled down to his task, and, before the evening was over, a letter was written. As the first letter which Dick had ever produced, and because it was characteristic of him, my readers may like to read it.
Here it is—
“Dear Frank—I got your letter this mornin’, and was very glad to hear you hadn’t forgotten Ragged Dick. I ain’t so ragged as I was. Openwork coats and trousers has gone out of fashion. I put on the Washington coat and Napoleon pants to go to the post-office, for fear they wouldn’t think I was the boy that was meant. On my way back I received the congratulations of my intimate friend, Micky Maguire, on my improved appearance.
“I’ve give up sleepin’ in boxes, and old wagons, findin’ it didn’t agree with my constitution. I’ve hired a room in Mott Street, and have got a private tooter, who rooms with me and looks after my studies in the evenin’. Mott Street ain’t very fashionable; but my manshun on Fifth Avenoo isn’t finished yet, and I’m afraid it won’t be till I’m a gray-haired veteran. I’ve got a hundred dollars towards it,
