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Slow and Sure: The Story of Paul Hoffman the Young Street-Merchant
Slow and Sure: The Story of Paul Hoffman the Young Street-Merchant
PREFACE
"SLOW AND SURE" is a volume of the stories of New York street life inaugurated by Ragged Dick. While it chronicles the advancement of Paul, the young street merchant, from the sidewalk to the shop, a large portion of it is devoted to the experiences of a street waif, who has been brought up by burglars, and passed the greater part of his time among them, without being wholly spoiled by his corrupt surroundings. His struggles between gratitude and duty on the one hand, and loyalty to his vicious guardians on the other, will, it is hoped, excite the interest and sympathy of the reader. The author has sought to indicate some of the influences which make it difficult for the neglected street children to grow up virtuous and well-conducted members of society. Philanthropy is never more nobly employed than in redeeming them, and "giving them a chance" to rise to respectability.
CHAPTER I.
SIX MONTHS AFTER
"It's most time for Paul to come home," said Mrs. Hoffman. "I must be setting the table for supper."
"I wonder how he will like my new picture," said Jimmy, a delicate boy of eight, whose refined features, thoughtful look, and high brow showed that his mind by no means shared the weakness of his body. Though only eight years of age he already manifested a remarkable taste and talent for drawing, in which he had acquired surprising skill, considering that he had never taken lessons, but had learned all he knew from copying such pictures as fell in his way.
"Let me see your picture, Jimmy," said Mrs. Hoffman. "Have you finished it?"
She came up and looked over his shoulder. He had been engaged in copying a humorous picture from the last page of Harper's Weekly. It was an ambitious attempt on the part of so young a pupil, but he had succeeded remarkably well, reproducing with close fidelity the grotesque expressions of the figures introduced in the picture.
"That is excellent, Jimmy," said his mother in warm commendation.
The little boy looked gratified.
"Do you think I will be an artist some day?" he asked.
"I have no doubt of it," said his mother, "if you can only obtain suitable instruction. However, there is plenty of time for that. You are only seven years old."
"I shall be eight to-morrow," said Jimmy, straightening up his slender form with the pride which every boy feels in advancing age.
"So you will. I had forgotten it."