Read FICTION books online

Reading books fiction 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.



Fiction genre suitable for people of all ages. Everyone will find something interesting for themselves. Our electronic library is always at your service. Reading online free books without registration. Nowadays ebooks are convenient and efficient. After all, don’t forget: literature exists and develops largely thanks to readers.
The genre of fiction is interesting to read not only by the process of cognition and the desire to empathize with the fate of the hero, this genre is interesting for the ability to rethink one's own life. Of course the reader may accept the author's point of view or disagree with them, but the reader should understand that the author has done a great job and deserves respect. Take a closer look at genre fiction in all its manifestations in our elibrary.



Read books online » Fiction » Chester Rand; or, The New Path to Fortune by Jr. Horatio Alger (booksvooks txt) 📖

Book online «Chester Rand; or, The New Path to Fortune by Jr. Horatio Alger (booksvooks txt) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger



1 ... 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27
Go to page:
made his saloon their headquarters, and he did not wish to give them up, as he might have had to do if he had gone into another business.”

By this time supper was over, and the two walked to Broadway. Edward felt stronger, and his eye was brighter.

Suddenly he gripped Chester’s arm.

“Do you see that man?” he asked, pointing to a black-bearded man on the other side of the street.

“Yes; what of him?”

“It is a gentleman from Portland, a neighbor of ours. What can he be doing in New York?”

CHAPTER XXXIII.

A FRIEND FROM OREGON.

“Go over and speak to him,” suggested Chester.

“Come with me, then.”

The two boys crossed the street and intercepted the man from Portland. He was of medium height, with dark hair, and had a brisk, Western way with him.

“Don’t you remember me, Mr. Wilson?” said Edward.

“What! Edward Granger?” ejaculated the Oregonian. “Well, I am glad to see you. Didn’t know what had become of you. Are you living here?”

“Yes, sir. Let me introduce my friend, Chester Rand.”

“Glad to meet you, Mr. Rand,” said Wilson, heartily. “So you are a friend of Edward’s.”

“Indeed he is, an excellent friend!” exclaimed young Granger. “Have you—seen my mother lately?”

“Come over to my hotel and I’ll answer all your questions. I’m stopping at the Continental, on the next block.”

“All right! Will you come, Chester?”

“Yes; I shall be glad to.”

They were soon sitting in the office of the Continental Hotel, at the corner of Broadway and Twentieth Street.

“Now I’ll answer your questions,” said Nathaniel Wilson. “Yes, I saw your mother the day before I set out.”

“And is she well?” asked Edward, anxiously.

“She was looking somewhat careworn. She probably misses you.”

“She never writes to me,” said Edward, bitterly.

“It may be because she doesn’t know your address. Then your stepfather keeps her prejudiced against you.”

“I suppose there is no change in him?”

“No; except that he is drinking harder than ever. His business is against him, though he would drink even if he didn’t keep a saloon.”

“Does he treat my mother well?”

“I think he does. I have never heard anything to the contrary. You see, he wouldn’t dare to do otherwise, as your mother has the property, and he wants to keep in with her in order to get a share.”

“I have been afraid that she would give a part to him.”

“Thus far I am confident she hasn’t done it. She is Scotch, isn’t she?”

“Yes; her name was Downie, and she was born in Glasgow, but came to this country at an early age.”

“The Scotch are careful and conservative.”

“She probably gives most of her income to Trimble—indeed, he collects her rents—but the principal she keeps in her own hands. Once I heard your stepfather complaining bitterly of this. ‘My wife,’ he said, ‘treats me very badly. She’s rolling in wealth, and I am a poor man, obliged to work early and late for a poor living.’”

“He pays nothing toward the support of the house,” said Edward, indignantly. “Mother pays all bills, and gives him money for himself besides.”

“I don’t see how she could have married such a man!”

“Nor I. He seems coarse, and is half the time under the influence of drink.”

“I wonder whether he has induced your mother to make a will in his favor,” said Wilson, thoughtfully. “If he did, I think her life would be in danger.”

Edward turned pale at this suggestion.

“I don’t care so much for the property,” he said, “but I can’t bear to think of my mother’s life as being in danger.”

“Probably your mother’s caution will serve her a good turn here also,” said Wilson. “It isn’t best to borrow trouble. I will keep watch, and if I see or hear of anything alarming I will write you. But now tell me about yourself. Are you at work?”

“Not just at present,” replied Edward, embarrassed.

“But I think I can get him another place in a day or two,” said Chester, quickly.

“If you need a little money, call on me,” added the warm-hearted Westerner. “You know you used to call me your uncle Nathaniel.”

“I wouldn’t like to borrow,” said Edward, shyly.

“When was your birthday?”

“A month ago.”

“Then I must give you a birthday present You can’t object to that,” and Mr. Wilson took a ten-dollar gold piece from his pocket and pressed it upon Edward.

“Thank you very much. I can’t decline a birthday gift.”

“That’s what I thought. I am an old friend, and have a right to remember you. Was Mr. Rand in the same office with you?”

“No; Chester is an artist.”

“An artist! A boy like him!” ejaculated the Oregonian in surprise.

Chester smiled.

“I am getting older every day,” he said.

“That’s what’s the matter with me,” rejoined Mr. Wilson. “You haven’t any gray hair yet, while I have plenty.”

“Not quite yet,” smiled Chester.

“What kind of an artist are you?”

“I make drawings for an illustrated weekly. It is a comic paper.”

“And perhaps you put your friends in occasionally?”

“Not friends exactly, but sometimes I sketch a face I meet in the street.”

“You may use me whenever you want a representative of the wild and woolly West.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wilson.”

“But in that case you must send me a copy of the paper.”

“I won’t forget it.”

“How long are you staying in New York, Mr. Wilson?” asked Edward.

“I go away to-morrow. You must spend the evening with me.”

“I should like to do so. It seems good to see an old friend.”

“By and by we will go to Delmonico’s and have an ice cream. I suppose you have been there?”

“No; office boys don’t often patronize Delmonico. They are more likely to go to Beefsteak John’s.”

“I never heard that name. Is it a fashionable place?”

“Yes, with those of small pocketbooks. It is a perfectly respectable place, but people living on Fifth Avenue prefer the Brunswick or Delmonico’s.”

Edward brightened up so much owing to the presence of a friend from his distant home that Chester could hardly believe that it was the same boy whom he had found but a short time before in the depths of despondency.

About nine o’clock they adjourned to Delmonico’s and ordered ices and cake.

“This seems a tiptop place,” said the Oregonian, looking about him. “We haven’t got anything equal to it in Portland, but we may have sometime. The Western people are progressive. We don’t want to be at the tail end of the procession. Mr. Rand, you ought to come out and see something of the West, particularly of the Pacific coast. You may not feel an interest in it at present, but——”

“I have more interest in it than you imagine, Mr. Wilson. I have some property at Tacoma.”

“You don’t mean it! What kind of property?”

“I own five lots there.”

“Then you are in luck. Lots in Tacoma are rising every day.”

“But it wouldn’t be well to sell at present, would it?”

“No; the railroad has only recently been completed, and the growth of Tacoma has only just begun.”

“I hope to go West some day.”

“When you do you must call on me. Perhaps you will come, too, Edward?”

Edward Granger shook his head.

“It won’t be worth while for me to go back while Mr. Trimble is alive. He seems to have such an influence over my mother that it would not be pleasant for me to go there and have a cold reception from her.”

“I will call on her and mention your name. Then I can see how the land lays. How she can prefer such a man as Abner Trimble to her own son I can’t understand.”

About ten o’clock the two boys left Mr. Wilson, who had been going about all day and showed signs of fatigue.

“Shan’t I see you again, Mr. Wilson?” asked Edward.

“No; I must take an early start in the morning. You had better let me lend you a little money.”

“No, thank you, sir. Your generous gift will help me till I get a place.”

So the farewells were said, and the boys walked home.

“Now,” said Edward, “I must try to get a place. This money will last me two weeks, and in that time I ought to secure something.”

He went from place to place, answering advertisements the next day, but met with no luck. He was feeling rather depressed when Chester came into his room.

“I have found a place for you,” he said, brightly.

“You don’t mean it! Where is it?” asked young Granger.

“At the office of The Phœnix. You will be in the mailing department. The salary is small—only seven dollars a week—but——”

“I shall feel rich. It is two dollars more than I received at my last place. When am I to go to work?”

“To-morrow. The mailing clerk has got a better place, and that makes an opening for you.”

“And I owe this good fortune to you,” said Edward, gratefully. “How can I repay you?”

“By being my friend!”

“That I shall be—for life!” replied Edward, fervently.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

AFTER A YEAR.

A year passed. Chester remained in the service of The Phœnix, which had become an established success. His artistic work was so satisfactory that his salary had been raised from twenty-five to thirty dollars per week. Yet he had not increased his personal expenses, and now had nearly a thousand dollars deposited in different savings banks.

He had concealed the extent of his prosperity from his mother, meaning in time to surprise her agreeably.

About this period he received a letter from Wyncombe. It was from his mother. It ran thus:

Dear Chester: I am sorry to write you bad news. Miss Jane Dolby has decided to visit a sister in Chicago and remain a year. Of course this cuts off the liberal income I have received from her, and which has been adequate to meet my expenses. I may be able to earn something by sewing, but it will be only a little. I shall, therefore, have to accept the offer you made me sometime since to send me a weekly sum. I am sorry to be a burden to you, but it will only be for a year. At the end of that time Miss Dolby promises to come back and resume boarding with me.

“I think we have reason to feel grateful for your continued success in New York. Silas Tripp called a few evenings since. He has had a great deal of trouble with boys. He says he has not had anyone to suit him since you left. He asked me if I thought you would come back for four dollars a week. This he seemed to consider a very liberal offer, and it was—for him. I didn’t give him any encouragement, as I presume you prefer art to the grocery business.

“You need not begin to send me money, at once, as I have been able to save a little from Miss Dolby’s board.

“Your affectionate mother,

Sarah Rand.”

Chester answered at once:

Dear Mother: Don’t feel any anxiety about your loss of income through Miss Dolby’s departure, and don’t try to earn any money by sewing. My income is larger than you suppose, and I will send you weekly as much as you have been accustomed to receive from your boarder. Should it be more than you need, you can lay aside any surplus for future use.

“Tell Mr. Tripp I prefer New York to Wyncombe as a place of business, and I am obliged to decline his generous offer. I cannot help thinking sometimes how fortunate it was that he declined over a year since to increase my pay, as in that case I might still have been working for him instead of establishing a reputation as an artist here. Last week I received a larger offer from another publication, but as the publishers of The Phœnix have always treated me well, I didn’t think that I would be justified in making a change. I mean in a week or two to come home to pass Sunday. I shall feel delighted to see my friends in Wyncombe, and most of all, my mother.

“Your loving son, Chester.”

Mrs. Rand protested against Chester sending her eight dollars a week, but he insisted upon it, advising her to lay aside

1 ... 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27
Go to page:

Free ebook «Chester Rand; or, The New Path to Fortune by Jr. Horatio Alger (booksvooks txt) 📖» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment