Chapter I

“Out of business, are you, Ned? Well, that is bad,” said Mr. Joseph Murdock, a stock broker, to his nephew.

“Decidedly bad.”

“But why did you leave Green & Smith? That is a good concern.”

“Salary was too small.”

“Better than you get now, at all events,” replied the worthy old gentleman, with a look of displeasure.

“Couldn’t pay my way on it.”

“Not on five hundred dollars!” and ‘uncle Joe,’ as he was commonly called, held up both hands in astonishment.

“I am in debt at this moment,” returned Ned, with a rueful glance at his uncle.

“And likely to be. Of course you don’t expect to pay your debts by wandering about the streets.”

“I expect to find business again.”

“You do not expect to get five hundred dollars the first year, do you?”

“I intend to strike for a thousand.”

“Strike! you won’t hit it.”

“Perhaps I shall.”

“Ned, you are going to the deuse as fast as high living and dissipation in general will carry you.”

“Why, uncle, I’m sure you don’t know me.”

“Sit down, Ned; let us talk it over. I want a young man in my office, and perhaps we can make a trade.”

“Thousand dollars, uncle Joseph;” and Ned Murdock attempted to look sly.

“Not out of me, Ned.”

“Can’t live on less.”

“Better die then. I want a young man to assist my bookkeeper, run of errands——”

“An errand boy, you mean;” and Ned felt hurt at the slight put upon his dignity.

“An errand boy, then. My clerk intends to go into business for himself one of these days, and if you are attentive to business, here is an opportunity to advance yourself;” and uncle Joe looked seriously into the face of his nephew.

“What is the salary?”

“Four hundred, for the present.”

“I should starve on it.”

“Live within your means. When I was of your age, I lived on two hundred.”

“Times have changed since then.”

“What do you pay for board, Ned?”

“Six dollars a week. I board at a hotel.”

“Six dollars a week! Ned, you are crazy;” and uncle Joe’s eyes stuck out “like two tallow candles.”

“Two of us room together in the attic, so that they board us low.”

“Should think they did—low for them, but high for you. Costs you a hundred for clothes, I suppose, don’t it?”

“About that,” replied Ned, evasively.

“Do you go to the ‘play’ often?”

“Not above once a week, except when there are ‘stars’ on.”

“Not above once a week! Ned, you are an extravagant dog; you will die in the poorhouse!”

“Pshaw! Uncle Joseph, you are old-fashioned!”

“If it is old-fashioned to live within one’s means, to pay one’s debts, and wear an honest face, then—thank God!—I am old-fashioned,” replied the worthy old gentleman, with considerable spirit.

“I mean to be honest, and practise all your old-fashioned virtues.”

“You can’t do it, Ned, on five hundred dollars a year with your habits.”

“Can’t be honest?”

“No; it is not honest to run up a bill at your tailor’s which you have not the ability to pay; it is not honest to get in debt to support extravagant habits.”

“You don’t mean to say that I am dishonest, uncle Joseph?” asked the young man, with a blush on his cheek.

“Well, well, we won’t talk about that, now. I want a young man, and if you have a mind to lay aside your extravagances, and go into my office determined to stick to your business, I will see to the rest.”

“What salary shall I have, uncle Joseph?”

“Four hundred the first year,” replied uncle Joseph, firmly.

“But I can’t live on that.”

“Yes, you can. Leave your hotel and board in a private family. Quit the theatre and the opera, and pay as you go.”

“But my debts?”

“How much do you owe?”

“About two hundred and fifty dollars.”

Uncle Joe scratched his head, contracted his eyebrows, and looked decidedly stormy.

“Bad business, Ned,” said he, after a few moments’ consideration. “I could easily get you out of the scrape, provided I saw any hope of amendment on your part. You don’t even say that you will reform.”

“To be serious, uncle Joseph, I can’t see how I can reform. I must live, you know.”

“And you must live within your means.”

At this moment the penny post deposited a letter on the table, by the side of the stock broker, the contents of which perfectly amazed him.