Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Phil, the Fiddler by Jr. Horatio Alger (top 10 books of all time TXT) 📖
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «Phil, the Fiddler by Jr. Horatio Alger (top 10 books of all time TXT) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
Freed from immediate danger, the young fiddler kept on his way. He had witnessed such scenes before, as he had often been into barrooms to play in the evening. He had not been paid for his trouble, but he cared little for that, as the money would have done him no good. He would only have been compelled to pass it over to the padrone. These boys, even at a tender age, are necessarily made familiar with the darker side of metropolitan life. Vice and crime are displayed before their young eyes, and if they do not themselves become vicious, it is not for the want of knowledge and example.
It would be tedious to follow Phil in his wanderings. We have already had a glimpse of the manner in which the days passed with him; only it is to be said that this was a favorable specimen. He had been more fortunate in collecting money than usual. Besides, he had had a better dinner than usual, thanks to the apple, and a supper such as he had not tasted for months.
About ten o’clock, as he was walking on the Bowery, he met Giacomo, his companion of the morning.
The little boy was dragging one foot after the other wearily. There was a sad look on his young face, for he had not been successful, and he knew too well how he would be received by the padrone. Yet his face lighted up as he saw Phil. Often before Phil had encouraged him when he was despondent. He looked upon our young hero as his only friend; for there was no other of the boys who seemed to care for him or able to help him.
“Is it you, Filippo?” he said.
“Yes, Giacomo. What luck have you had?”
“Not much. I have only a little more than a dollar. I am so tired; but I don’t dare go back. The padrone will beat me.”
An idea came to Phil. He did not know how much money he had; but he was sure it must be considerably more than two dollars, Why should he not give some to his friend to make up his deficiencies, and so perhaps save him from punishment?
“I have had better luck,” he said. “I have almost three dollars.”
“You are always luckier than I, Filippo.”
“I am stronger, Giacomo. It does not tire me so much to walk about.”
“You can sing, too. I cannot sing very much, and I do not get so much money.”
“Tell me just how much money you have, Giacomo.”
“I have a dollar and thirty cents,” said Giacomo, after counting the contents of his pockets.
Meanwhile Phil had been doing the same thing. The result of his count was that he found he had two dollars and eighty cents.
“Listen, Giacomo,” he said. “I will give you enough to make two dollars.”
“But then you will be beaten.”
“No; I shall have two dollars and five cents left. Then neither of us will get beaten.”
“How kind you are, Filippo!”
“Oh, it is nothing. Besides, I do not want to carry too much, or the padrone will expect me to bring as much every day, and that I cannot do. So it will be better for us both.”
The transfer was quickly made, and the two boys kept together until they heard the clock strike eleven. It was now so late that they determined to return to their miserable lodging, for both were tired and longed for sleep.
CHAPTER VII THE HOME OF THE BOYS
It was a quarter-past eleven when Phil and Giacomo entered the shabby brick house which they called home, for want of a better. From fifteen to twenty of their companions had already arrived, and the padrone was occupied in receiving their several contributions. The apartment was a mean one, miserably furnished, but seemed befitting the principal occupant, whose dark face was marked by an expression of greed, and alternately showed satisfaction or disappointment as the contents of the boys’ pockets were satisfactory or otherwise. Those who had done badly were set apart for punishment.
He looked up as the two boys entered.
“Well, Filippo,” he said, harshly, “how much have you got?”
Phil handed over his earnings. They were up to the required limit, but the padrone looked only half satisfied.
“Is that all you have?” he asked, suspiciously.
“It is all, signore.”
“You have not done well this afternoon, then. When I met you at twelve o’clock you had more than a dollar.”
“It was because a good signora gave me fifty cents.”
The padrone, still suspicious, plunging his hands into Phil’s pockets, but in vain. He could not find another penny.
“Take off your shoes and stockings,” he said, still unsatisfied.
Phil obediently removed his shoes and stockings, but no money was found concealed, as the padrone half suspected. Sometimes these poor boys, beset by a natural temptation, secrete a portion of their daily earnings. Whenever they are detected, woe betide them. The padrone makes an example of them, inflicting a cruel punishment, in order to deter other boys from imitating them.
Having discovered nothing, he took Phil’s violin, and proceeded to Giacomo.
“Now for you,” he said.
Giacomo handed over his money. The padrone was surprised in turn, but his surprise was of a different nature. He had expected to find him deficient, knowing that he was less enterprising than Phil. He was glad to get more money than he expected, but a little disappointed that he had no good excuse for beating him; for he had one of those hard, cruel natures that delight in inflicting pain and anguish upon others.
“Take care that you do as well to-morrow,” he said. “Go and get your supper.”
One of the larger boys was distributing bread and cheese to the hungry boys. Nearly all ate as if famished, plain and uninviting as was the supper, for they had been many hours without food. But Phil, who, as we know, had eaten a good supper at Mrs. Hoffman’s, felt very little appetite. He slyly gave his bread to one of the boys, who, on account of the small sum he brought home, had been sentenced to go without. But the sharp eyes of the padrone, which, despite his occupation, managed to see all that was going on, detected this action, and he became suspicious that Phil had bought supper out of his earnings.
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