LITMIR.BIZ

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I know more about than Latin or Greek."

      "English?"

      "I mean French; I spent a year at a French boarding-school, three years since."

      "What! Have you been in France?"

      "Yes; an uncle of mine—in fact, the editor—was going over, and urged father to send me. I learned considerable French, but not much else. I can speak and understand it pretty well."

      "How I wish I had had your advantages," said Harry. "How did you like your French schoolmates?"

      "They wouldn't come near me at first. Because I was an American they thought I carried a revolver and a dirk-knife, and was dangerous. That is their idea of American boys. When they found I was tame, and carried no deadly weapons, they ventured to speak with me, and after that we got along pretty well."

      "How soon do you expect to go to college?"

      "A year from next summer. I suppose I shall be ready by that time.

      You are going to stay in town, I suppose?"

      "Yes, if I keep my place."

      "Oh, you'll do that. Then we can see something of each other. You must come up to my room, and see me. Come almost any evening."

      "I should like to. Do you live in Dr. Barton's family?"

      "No, I hope not."

      "Why not?"

      "Oh, the Doctor has a way of looking after the fellows that room in the house, and of keeping them at work all the time. That wouldn't suit me. I board at Mrs. Greyson's, at the south-east corner of the church common. Have you got anything to do this evening?"

      "Nothing in particular."

      "Then come round and take a look at my den, or sanctum I ought to call it; as I am talking to a member of the editorial profession."

      "Not quite yet," said Harry, smiling.

      "Oh, well that'll come in due time. Will you come?"

      "Sha'n't I be disturbing you?"

      "Not a bit. My Greek lesson is about finished, and that's all I've got to do this evening. Come round, and we will sit over the fire, and chat like old friends."

      "Thank you, Oscar," said Harry, irresistibly attracted by his bright and lively acquaintance, "I shall enjoy calling. I have made no acquaintances yet, and I feel lonely."

      "I have got over that," said Oscar. "I am used to being away from home and don't mind it."

      The two boys walked together to Oscar's boarding-place. It was a large house, of considerable pretension for a village, and Oscar's room was large and handsomely furnished. But what attracted Harry's attention was not the furniture, but a collection of over a hundred books, ranged on shelves at one end of the room. In his father's house it had always been so difficult to obtain the necessaries of life that books had necessarily been regarded as superfluities, and beyond a dozen volumes which Harry had read and re-read, he was compelled to depend on such as he could borrow. Here again his privileges were scanty, for most of the neighbors were as poorly supplied as his father.

      "What a fine library you have, Oscar!" he exclaimed.

      "I have a few books," said Oscar. "My father filled a couple of boxes, and sent me. He has a large library."

      "This seems a large library to me," said Harry. "My father likes reading, but he is poor, and cannot afford to buy books."

      He said that in a matter-of-fact tone, without the least attempt to conceal what many boys would have been tempted to hide. Oscar noted this, and liked his new friend the better for it.

      "Yes," he said, "books cost money, and one hasn't always the money to spare."

      "Have you read all these books?"

      "Not more than half of them. I like reading better than studying, I am afraid. I am reading the Waverley novels now. Have you read any of them?"

      "So; I never saw any of them before."

      "If you see anything you would like to read, I will lend it to you with pleasure," said Oscar, noticing the interest with which Harry regarded the books.

      "Will you?" said Harry, eagerly. "I can't tell you how much obliged I am. I will take good care of it."

      "Oh, I am sure of that. Here, try Ivanhoe. I've just read it, and it's tip-top."

      "Thank you; I will take it on your recommendation. What a nice room you have!"

      "Yes, it's pretty comfortable. Father told me to fix it up to suit me. He said he wouldn't mind the expense if I would only study."

      "I should think anybody might study in such a room as this, and with such a fine collection of books."

      "I'm rather lazy sometimes," said Oscar, "but I shall turn over a new leaf some of these days, and astonish everybody. To-night, as I have no studying to do, I'll tell you what we'll do. Did you ever pop corn?"

      "Sometimes."

      "I've got some corn here, and Ma'am Greyson has a popper. Stay here alone a minute, and I'll run down and get it."

      Oscar ran down stairs, and speedily returned with a corn-popper.

      "Now we'll have a jolly time," said he. "Draw up that arm-chair, and make yourself at home. If Xenophon, or Virgil, or any of those Greek and Latin chaps call, we'll tell 'em we are transacting important business and can't be disturbed. What do you say?"

      "They won't be apt to call on me," said Harry. I haven't the pleasure of knowing them."

      "It isn't always a pleasure, I can assure you, Harry. Pass over the corn-popper."

      CHAPTER V

A YOUNG F. F. B

      As the two boys sat in front of the fire, popping and eating the corn, and chatting of one thing and another, their acquaintance improved rapidly. Harry learned that Oscar's father was a Boston merchant, in the Calcutta trade, with a counting-room on Long Wharf. Oscar was a year older than himself, and the oldest child. He had a sister of thirteen, named Florence, and a younger brother, Charlie, now ten. They lived on Beacon Street, opposite the Common. Though Harry had never lived in Boston, be knew that this was a fashionable street, and he had no difficulty in inferring that Mr. Vincent was a rich man. He felt what a wide gulf there was socially between himself and Oscar; one the son of a very poor country farmer, the other the son of a merchant prince. But nothing in Oscar's manner indicated the faintest feeling of superiority, and this pleased Harry. I may as well say, however, that our hero was not one to show any foolish subserviency to a richer boy; he thought mainly of Oscar's superiority in knowledge; and although the latter was far ahead of Harry on this score, he was not one to boast of it.

      Harry, in return for Oscar's confidence, acquainted him with his own adventures since he had started out to earn his own living. Oscar was most interested in his apprenticeship to the ventriloquist.

      "It must have been jolly fun," he said. "I shouldn't mind travelling round with him myself. Can you perform any tricks?"

      "A few," said Harry.

      "Show me some, that's a good fellow."

      "If you won't show others. Professor Henderson wouldn't like to have his tricks generally known. I could show more if I had the articles he uses. But I can do some without."

      "Go ahead, Professor. I'm all attention."

      Not having served an apprenticeship to a magician, as Harry did, I will not undertake to describe the few simple tricks which he had picked up, and now exhibited for the entertainment of his companion. It is enough to say that they were quite satisfactory, and that Oscar professed his intention to puzzle his Boston friends with them, when his vacation arrived.

      About half-past eight, a knock was heard at the door.

      "Come in!" called out Oscar.

      The door was opened, and a boy about his own age entered. His name was Fitzgerald Fletcher. He was also a Boston boy, and the son of a retail merchant, doing business on Washington street. His father lived handsomely, and was supposed to be rich. At any rate Fitzgerald

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