PHILIP'S WAY.

By HORATIO ALGER, Jr.

"I mean to have a jolly time to-morrow, Phil," said Tom Chester. "I expect it will cost me a cool fifty dollars."

"What are your plans, that require so much expense?" asked Philip Marden.

"Being New Year's Day, I must make calls on my friends, you know. I've got about fifty places chalked down for visits. I mean to go in style, and so, have engaged a carriage all to myself for the day. That'll cost ten dollars, and perhaps more. Then in the evening I'm going to give a little supper to half a dozen friends. Will you be one of the number?"

"Thank you, I have promised to spend the evening with my aunt and cousin."

"Oh, they'll let you off."

"No doubt, but they would be disappointed, and I would rather not disappoint them. So, with many thanks, I must decline your kind invitation."

"I am sorry," said Tom, but he didn't care much really. The truth was that Philip was a little too sober and sedate to suit his taste, and the supper was likely to be a convivial one.

"So Tom is going to spend fifty dollars in pleasure," thought Philip. "Well, he can afford it for once, so far as money goes, and so can I. I will do it, too, only it may be that our ideas of pleasure will differ somewhat. I shall have a few calls to make also."

The next morning Tom set out on his tour of calls. He had a "jolly" time, as he expected, and drank wine at so many different places that his head got a little confused by the middle of the afternoon.

About ten o'clock Philip set out also, but in a less stylish manner. He paid five cents for a ride in the horse cars, getting out in a locality very far from fashionable. He stopped before a shabby, three-story house, and ringing the bell, inquired for Mrs. Lucas.

"Third floor, front, right-hand side," was the direction.

The staircase was as shabby as the exterior of the house. Philip soon stood on the third landing, and after a little pause, knocked at the door. It was opened by a pale, sickly-looking woman, who looked at him inquiringly.

"Is this Mrs. Lucas?" asked the young man.

"Yes, sir," said she inquiringly.

"My name is Marden. You made me some shirts lately."

"Yes, sir. I hope they fitted."

"Excellently."

"I am glad of it. Perhaps he has some more work for me!" thought the poor woman.

"I am afraid you find it hard work to get along in these days of high prices," said Philip, surveying the scantily furnished apartment.

"I do, indeed, sir," said Mrs. Lucas, sighing. "Rent and provisions are very high, and I can't always get work. I have a little girl of ten—she is out just now—but she cannot do much. I try to keep her at school, but I find it hard to keep her in decent clothing. It was a great help to me, the money I received for making your shirts."

"I shall have some more work soon," said Philip kindly. "Meanwhile will you accept this note? I hope it will be of service."

"Ten dollars!" exclaimed Mrs. Lucas in surprise. "You have made a mistake, sir. Have you not?"

"Not at all."

"Ah, sir, you don't know how much good it will do me," said the poor woman, her face lighted up with pleasure. "Thank you many times for your great kindness."

"You are quite welcome, Mrs. Lucas. It is New Year's Day, you know—I wish you a Happy New Year."

"Indeed, sir, you have done much to make it so."

There was a warm glow at Philip's heart as he went out into the street. His call had been a pleasant one.

Two or three blocks brought him to another tenement house, more shabby and dilapidated than the one he had left.

"I think it is No. 17, rear house," he said.

He passed through a narrow passage, and emerged into a dark court about fifteen feet square, swarming with little children, and inquired of the first one that attracted his attention, "Does Mrs. Flaherty live here?"

"Yes, sir," said the little girl addressed, "she's my mother."

"Will you show me her room?"

Little Bridget Flaherty led the way upstairs, a little surprised at the appearance of her mother's visitor, and opened the door of a dirty room without a carpet.

Mrs. Flaherty rose in surprise, recognizing her visitor.

"It's Mr. Marden, shure," she said. "And how did you find the way, sir?"

"I happened to remember the street and number, Mrs. Flaherty."

"I hope there's nothing wrong about the clothes, sir?"

"Not at all; but I'm out making my New Year's calls."

"And it's an honor, indade, that you should call on me. Sit down, sir, if you please."

And she cleared off a chair, wiping it with her apron to insure cleanliness.

Philip chatted with her five minutes, inquiring about her family and circumstances. As he rose to go he took out ten dollars and handed it to her.

"Is it for me?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes, Mrs. Flaherty, a New Year's gift."

I should hardly venture to reproduce the grateful thanks which were showered upon Philip by the enthusiastic recipient of his gift, and how she invoked all the saints in the calendar to shield him from harm and fill his path with blessings.

Philip next went to a bookstore, and purchased a series of juveniles illustrated with bright, attractive pictures, and taking the horse cars again was landed near a quiet little street of no pretensions as regards fashion. He ascended the steps of a plain, wooden house of two stories, and rang the bell. It was the house of a widow, who made a scanty living by keeping boarders of an humble class. She had one boy of twelve, bright and athirst for knowledge, but an invalid, and not strong enough to go to school. There was nothing the lad loved like reading, but his mother could not afford to buy him books, and her friends were not many of them book owners. So he used to lie day after day on the old lounge, finding the hours weary and monotonous.

It was his mother who opened the door.

"Jimmy will be so glad to see you, Mr. Marden," she said. "You'll find him on the sofa, as usual."

"Does he get no better?"

"Not that I can see. Poor boy, he finds the time pass very heavily."

"I've brought him some books that will while away the hours."

"How kind you are! He will be beside himself with joy."

She led the way into a small room, with a faded carpet on the floor. A young boy with a merry look on his pale face lay on a lounge. He lifted his eyes, and they brightened as they met the gaze of the visitor.

"Oh, Mr. Marden, I'm so glad to see you!" he exclaimed.

"And I am glad to see you, Jimmy—a Happy New Year to you!"

"And you also, Mr. Marden."

"Thank you, Jimmy. Now, what do you think I have got in this big bundle?"

"Is it books?" asked the boy eagerly.

"Yes, Jimmy, you have guessed right. Six new books, and all for you."

"All for me. Oh, how kind you are! Do open them quick."

Smiling at the boy's impatience, Philip cut the string with his penknife, and displayed six handsomely bound volumes, over which Jimmy was soon poring with delight.

"Then you like them, Jimmy?"

"Oh, so much. There was nothing which I should have liked as well. What a good man you are, Mr. Marden. I don't deserve it."

"I like to make people happy, Jimmy, that is all."

"And you have made me very happy, sir," said the boy, his face lighting up with gratitude. "My life has been so dull sometimes."

"Let us hope it will be brighter in future."

"I think it will, Mr. Marden, thanks to you."

Philip called at three other places, where he dispensed timely and welcome gifts. We need not follow him. It is enough to say that each visit carried sunshine with it and left happiness behind it. When the last call had been made he found that he had expended just fifty dollars, but he felt richer without it.

The next morning the two young men met at their place of business, for both were employed in the same mercantile establishment. Tom Chester was heavy-eyed, and looked as if he had been up all night. Philip's eye was bright, and his nerves were as steady as usual.

"Did you have a good time, Tom?" asked Philip.

"Capital! I made all my calls, and had a jolly supper—to top off with. Didn't get into bed till four this morning. I feel rather seedy to-day, that's a fact. But New Year's Day only comes once a year."

"True; how much did it cost you?"

"Fifty dollars. I suppose you, like a prudent boy, saved your money?"

"There you are mistaken. I spent fifty dollars, also."

"You did!" exclaimed his friend in astonishment. "How was that?"

"In making people happy."

"I don't understand you."

Philip gave a brief outline of what he had done.

"You're a strange fellow," said Tom Chester. "Who'd ever have thought of spending New Year's Day in that way?"

"A great many, I hope. Depend upon it. Tom, the best way to secure happiness yourself is to promote the happiness of others. I wouldn't exchange my investment for yours."

Dear reader, I have sketched two ways of spending the day that ushers in the New Year. Tom Chester spent his time and money in selfish gratification. Philip devoted his to nobler uses. Which do you prefer?