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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.



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Read books online » Fiction » Try and Trust; Or, Abner Holden's Bound Boy by Jr. Horatio Alger (best romantic novels to read TXT) 📖

Book online «Try and Trust; Or, Abner Holden's Bound Boy by Jr. Horatio Alger (best romantic novels to read TXT) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger



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“Better have a cigar.”

“No; I guess not.”

“You'll come to it in time. I'll smoke it for you, then.”

After smoking, Greenleaf expressed his intention of going to the theater. Herbert preferred to go to bed early, feeling rather tired. He was kept awake at first by the noise of the horse-cars and the bustle of the street outside, as well as by the exciting thoughts that crowded upon him, suggested by his actual arrival in the city, where he hoped to make a place for himself by energy and industry. But at last he fell asleep.

He slept soundly through the night. But towards morning he had a dream in which Abner Holden figured. His old employer seemed to be approaching him with a smile of exultation, and was about to lay violent hands upon him, when he awoke. It was broad daylight, being already seven o'clock in the morning. Herbert remembered where he was, and looked across the room for Greenleaf. But he was not visible. The bed was disarranged, and evidently had been slept in, but the occupant had risen.

“I didn't think he was a fellow to rise early,” thought Herbert. “I suppose he is downstairs. I might as well get up, too.”

Herbert jumped out of bed, and, going to the wash-stand, washed his face and hands. He then proceeded to dress.

“I wonder Greenleaf didn't wake me up,” he thought.

But the reason was too soon made evident. Happening to put his hand in the pocket where he usually kept his pocketbook, he was startled at finding it empty. Somewhat alarmed, he began to hunt round upon the floor, thinking it possible that it might have dropped out. But his search was vain. It was not to be found. He then examined carefully the remaining pockets, still without success.

It was not until this moment that a suspicion entered his mind concerning his companion.

“Is it possible,” he thought, “that Greenleaf has been mean enough to strip me of my money?”

Herbert did not want to believe this. He disliked to think badly of anyone, and he still hoped it would prove otherwise. It was barely possible that Greenleaf had taken his money by way of playing a practical joke upon him, and he might now be downstairs, waiting to be amused at Herbert's look of dismay when he discovered that he was penniless. Drowning men will catch at straws, and Herbert, in his trouble, tried to think this was probably the way it had happened.

“Greenleaf is rather a hard case, according to his own account,” he said to himself, “but I can't believe he would be mean enough to rob me. I will go downstairs and see if I can find him.”

Accordingly, leaving his chamber, he descended the staircase, and made his way to the office.

Herbert went up and spoke to the clerk who chanced to be inside.

“Have you seen my roommate?” he asked.

“What is the number of your room?”

“No. ——.”

“I remember now. He has gone.”

“Gone!” echoed Herbert, in dismay.

“Yes; didn't you know of it?”

“He went away while I was asleep. How long since did he go?”

“He came to the office two hours since, and said he should not require the room any longer.”

“Did he leave any message for me?”

“No.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“No.”

Such an expression of dismay and perplexity overspread Herbert's face that the clerk could not help observing it.

“Is anything wrong?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Herbert. “He has robbed me of my pocketbook, containing all my money.”

“Whew!” whistled the clerk. “How much had you?”

“About sixty dollars.”

“You're unlucky, that's a fact. Have you nothing left?”

Just then it flashed across Herbert's mind that when he had paid for his supper he had changed a five-dollar bill, and placed the balance, about four dollars and a half in his vest pocket. He at once felt in that pocket, and found it still there. Greenleaf had contented himself with the pocketbook.

“I have a little left,” he said.

He paid for his room in advance for another day, and went down to breakfast.





CHAPTER XXIII A BUSINESS CALL

It was certainly a startling discovery for Herbert to make, that out of sixty dollars he had only four left, now that he had paid for another day at the hotel, and this small sum must be further diminished by the expense of a breakfast. Unfortunately, too, he was quite hungry, for his misfortune had not taken away his appetite.

“I will make a good breakfast, at any rate,” said Herbert, philosophically. “Afterwards, I will consider what to do.”

He ordered a substantial breakfast, which, even at the low prices of a dozen years ago, amounted to fifty cents, and did full justice to what was set before him.

After paying at the desk, he went outside.

It was a bright, sunshiny morning, and this, with the comfortable feeling produced by having eaten a good breakfast, gave him courage for the new career upon which he was about to enter.

While considering what he should do first, the thought of the letter given him by Mr. Carroll flashed upon him. He felt for it hastily, and was rejoiced to find that that was safe, at least. Greenleaf had not taken that away, fortunately.

He looked at the direction. It was addressed to

“Messrs. Godfrey & Lynn,

“No. —— Pearl St.”

It was not sealed, and was probably meant to be read by Herbert. At any rate, our hero so concluded, and opened the letter, not without curiosity as to what Mr. Carroll had written about him. He knew it must be favorable, of course, but found it even more so than he anticipated.

Here it is:

“MY DEAR MR. GODFREY: This letter will be handed you by a young friend of mine, by name Herbert Mason. My acquaintance with him has been brief, but he has been able, by his coolness and bravery, to do me a most important service, having saved me from being robbed of a large sum of

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