et, sitting back luxuriously in an
elegant carriage drawn by a dashing span; such was what he regarded
himself most fit for. But, unfortunately, he was not very likely to
realize his wishes. The desire to enjoy wealth doesn't bring it, and the
tastes of a gentleman are not a very good stock to begin life with. So
Roswell sauntered along in rather a discontented frame of mind until he
reached Madison Park, where he sat down on a bench, and listlessly
watched some boys who were playing there.

"Hallo, Roswell!" said one of his acquaintances, coming up by chance.
"How do you happen to be here?"

"Why shouldn't I be here?"

"I thought you were in a store somewhere on Sixth Avenue."

"Well, I was, but I have left it."

"When did you leave it?"

"To-day."

"Got sacked, hey?"

"Sacked," in the New York vernacular, means discharged from a place. The
idea of having it supposed that he had been "sacked" was not pleasing to
Roswell's pride. He accordingly answered, "I never was 'sacked' in my
life. Besides, it's a low word, and I never use it."

"Well, you know what I mean. Did they turn you off?"

"No, they didn't. They would have been glad to have me stay."

"Why didn't you then?"

"I didn't like the business."

"Dry goods,--wasn't it?"

"Yes, a retail dry-goods store. If I ever go into that line again, it'll
be in a wholesale store. There's a chance there for a man to rise."

"You don't call yourself a man yet,--do you?"

"I call myself a gentleman," said Roswell, shortly.

"What are you going to do now?"

"I'm in no hurry about a new place. I shall look round a little."

"Well, success to you. I must be getting back to the shop."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm learning a trade."

"Oh!" said Roswell, turning up his nose slightly, which was quite easy
for him to do, as nature had given that organ an upward turn. He thought
all trades low, and resolved hereafter to hold as little communication
as possible with the boy who had so far demeaned himself as to be
learning one. That was worse than being in a dry-goods store, and
carrying around bundles.

Towards six o'clock Roswell rose from his seat, and sauntered towards
Clinton Place, which was nearly a mile distant. He entered the house a
little before dinner.

"Are you not earlier than usual, Roswell?" asked his mother.

"I've left the store," he said, abruptly.

"Left the store!" echoed his mother, in some dismay. "Why?"

"Because they don't know