To Joseph W. Allen, at whose suggestion this story was undertaken, it is inscribed with friendly regard....

Ragged Dick was contributed as a serial story to the pages of the Schoolmate, a well-known juvenile magazine, during the year 1867. While in course of publication, it was received with so many evidenc...

“Wake up there, youngster,” said a rough voice. Ragged Dick opened his eyes slowly, and stared stupidly in the face of the speaker, but did not offer to get up. “Wake up, you young vagabond!” said the...

After Dick had finished polishing Mr. Greyson’s boots he was fortunate enough to secure three other customers, two of them reporters in the Tribune establishment, which occupies the corner of Spruce S...

Though Dick was somewhat startled at discovering that the bill he had offered was counterfeit, he stood his ground bravely. “Clear out of this shop, you young vagabond,” repeated the clerk. “Then give...

“Now,” said Mr. Whitney to Dick, “my nephew here is on his way to a boarding school. He has a suit of clothes in his trunk about half worn. He is willing to give them to you. I think they will look be...

They were soon in Chatham Street, walking between rows of ready-made clothing shops, many of which had half their stock in trade exposed on the sidewalk. The proprietors of these establishments stood ...

As the boys pursued their way up Broadway, Dick pointed out the prominent hotels and places of amusement. Frank was particularly struck with the imposing fronts of the St. Nicholas and Metropolitan Ho...

They had reached the junction of Broadway and of Fifth Avenue. Before them was a beautiful park of ten acres. On the left-hand side was a large marble building, presenting a fine appearance with its e...

“Have you always lived in New York, Dick?” asked Frank, after a pause. “Ever since I can remember.” “I wish you’d tell me a little about yourself. Have you got any father or mother?” “I ain’t got no m...

The boys had turned into Third Avenue, a long street, which, commencing just below the Cooper Institute, runs out to Harlem. A man came out of a side street, uttering at intervals a monotonous cry whi...

“What a queer chap you are, Dick!” said Frank, laughing. “You always seem to be in good spirits.” “No, I ain’t always. Sometimes I have the blues.” “When?” “Well, once last winter it was awful cold, a...

Dick’s ready identification of the rogue who had cheated the countryman, surprised Frank. “What makes you think it is he?” he asked. “Because I’ve seen him before, and I know he’s up to them kind of t...

Going out into the fresh air Dick felt the pangs of hunger. He accordingly went to a restaurant and got a substantial supper. Perhaps it was the new clothes he wore, which made him feel a little more ...

About nine o’clock Dick sought his new lodgings. In his hands he carried his professional wardrobe, namely, the clothes which he had worn at the commencement of the day, and the implements of his busi...

“What’s that for?” demanded Dick, turning round to see who had struck him. “You’re gettin’ mighty fine!” said Micky Maguire, surveying Dick’s new clothes with a scornful air. There was something in hi...

The next morning Dick was unusually successful, having plenty to do, and receiving for one job twenty-five cents⁠—the gentleman refusing to take change. Then flashed upon Dick’s mind the thought that ...

Fortunately for Dick, his young tutor was well qualified to instruct him. Henry Fosdick, though only twelve years old, knew as much as many boys of fourteen. He had always been studious and ambitious ...

It was the hour for morning service. The boys followed Mr. Greyson into the handsome church, and were assigned seats in his own pew. There were two persons already seated in it⁠—a good-looking lady of...

Dick was no coward. Nor was he in the habit of submitting passively to an insult. When, therefore, he recognized Micky as his assailant, he instantly turned and gave chase. Micky anticipated pursuit, ...

Fosdick did not venture to wear his new clothes while engaged in his business. This he felt would have been wasteful extravagance. About ten o’clock in the morning, when business slackened, he went ho...

The next morning Fosdick rose early, put on his new suit, and, after getting breakfast, set out for the Broadway store in which he had obtained a position. He left his little blacking-box in the room....

It was hinted at the close of the last chapter that Dick was destined to be disagreeably surprised on reaching home. Having agreed to give further assistance to Tom Wilkins, he was naturally led to go...

Fosdick was right in supposing that Jim Travis had stolen the bankbook. He was also right in supposing that that worthy young man had come to the knowledge of Dick’s savings by what he had accidentall...

Jim Travis advanced into the bank with a doubtful step, knowing well that he was on a dishonest errand, and heartily wishing that he were well out of it. After a little hesitation, he approached the p...

It was about a week after Dick’s recovery of his bankbook, that Fosdick brought home with him in the evening a copy of the Daily Sun. “Would you like to see your name in print, Dick?” he asked. “Yes,”...

When Fosdick reached home in the evening, Dick displayed his letter with some pride. “It’s a nice letter,” said Fosdick, after reading it. “I should like to know Frank.” “I’ll bet you would,” said Dic...

Dick now began to look about for a position in a store or counting room. Until he should obtain one he determined to devote half the day to blacking boots, not being willing to break in upon his small...

When Dick was dressed in his new suit, he surveyed his figure with pardonable complacency. It was the best he had ever worn, and fitted him as well as if it had been made expressly for him. “He’s done...

A fact. ↩ Mr. Stewart’s Tenth Street store was not open at the time Dick spoke. ↩ Since destroyed by fire, and rebuilt farther up Broadway, and again burned down in February. ↩ Now the office of the M...