John Whopper / The Newsboy

by Thomas M. Clark

The next morning I awaited the usual arrival with great anxiety; and, as soon as the package came into my hands, I tore off the outer covering, and, to my great relief, found a letter in my mother's handwriting, addressed,—

"Master John Whopper,

Canton, Mass."

It read as follows:—

Roxbury, March, 1867.

My dearest John,—I was very much disappointed that you did not come home to pass the Sabbath. I had a nice dinner all ready for you; and your little sister cried hard when she found that you were not to sit down with us. We were all very glad, however, to get your letter; and I am thankful that you have been so prospered in your business. I had no idea that you would be able to make so much money by selling papers in Canton: they must be a great reading community. I hope, my dear son, that all is made honestly. There are some things in your letter which have puzzled me a little, and I do not know that I exactly understand all that you say. You also speak of visiting the Joss-house once or twice. I never knew any family of that name: only I happen to remember, that, up in Manchester, there were quite a large number of people by the name of Josslyn; and sometimes the boys used to call them, in sport, "the Josses." It is not a good habit to give nicknames to other persons, especially where you visit the family. You also speak of their burning a great deal of colored paper, and a great many scented sticks before an image. I asked Bob what he thought this meant: but he jumped right behind the closet-door, and made the most extraordinary noises with his mouth that I ever heard; and when he came out again his eyes were full of tears, and he looked as if he had had a fit. "Bob," said I, "what is the matter?" "I have had a high-strike,"—he should have said high-sterick,—"I do have 'em sometimes." "Robert," I said very seriously, "what do you think your brother means?"

"Well," said he, "I shouldn't wonder if the Josses had a bust of Daniel Webster or Henry Clay in their parlor, and perhaps they burn things round it to keep off the flies." Then he began to laugh again, and I could not tell whether he was in earnest or not. I am not very much pleased to hear you say that you go out in the afternoon to fly kites with a parcel of old mandarins. I think that you might find some better use for your time; and I am afraid from the way in which you speak of them, that these old mandarins are not very respectable characters. Your brother says that kite-flying means speculating, and that the mandarins are probably brokers. I trust, my dear boy, that you are not making any of your money in this way. Who is this Chim-jung-tsee, who is to be your teacher? It is a very strange name for a Christian to be called by, and I don't like the sound of it. And what do you mean, when you say you want to learn the language so that you may be able to talk with the natives? I never stopped in Canton but once, and that was when the axle-tree of the engine, or something else, broke down. There were a good many people from the village came up to the depot then; and I heard them talk for more than an hour, and I understood every word they said. I am almost afraid that your application to business, and selling your papers at such a profit, is turning your brain. You must not work too hard, and you must be careful about your diet. I shall try and send you a bundle of doughnuts next week, when I fry. There is something in your letter about eating rats and birds'-nests, and other horrible things. I suppose that you intend that for a joke. I wish that you would tell me where you pass your evenings, and what kind of books you are reading, and how many meeting-houses there are in Canton, and where you go to meeting. Whenever you have to stay there over the Sabbath, I would like to have you write out a full account of the sermons that you hear. We all hope that you will come to see us next Saturday night. Bob says that you are so busy that you will not be able to leave; and that you have to sit up all night, and then sleep in the day-time. Bob and Mamie send their best love. I will send a pair of socks with the doughnuts. Your little sister says, "Tell brother that I want him to bring me something pretty from Canton." I don't know but she thinks you are away off in the great city of Canton, in China. Write as often as you can to

Your very affectionate mother,

Deborah Whopper.

I did not know whether to laugh or cry when I had read the letter, and so I did a little of both. I could not bear to think that my mother should be so deceived, and so bewildered; but it would distress her sadly if she really knew where I had gone, and how I got there. I had some doubts, too, whether she would be able to keep the secret long, for they worm every thing out of her at the Dorcas Society. So I concluded that I would write her another letter, at the end of the week, which wouldn't give her any trouble. Week after week passed by without any interruption of my business; and I devoted three hours every day to the study of the Chinese language, under the direction of Chim-jung-tsee, a young Chinaman who spoke pigeon-English very well, and had been highly recommended by one of the waiters at the hotel. He was a very sleek, smooth-spoken fellow: the top of his shaved head shone like a billiard ball, and his tail hung four feet and a half from his shoulders. I didn't altogether like the expression of his eyes; for although they were usually turned up at the outside corners, like other Chinese eyes, sometimes I would catch him with one of them turned down at the corner, and then he seemed to be looking at me with one eye, and looking out of the window with the other. His nails were longer than any I had seen in Canton; and he usually wore stout leather cots on the ends of his fingers, to protect them from injury. I never knew him to lose his temper but once; and that was when, just for the fun of the thing, I managed to snip off an inch or two from one of his nails with my pen-knife. From that moment, I have reason to believe that he became my deadly foe. He couldn't have made more of an outcry, had he lost his arm.

One day, as I entered my room, I found the young man carefully studying a copy of "The New-York Times," which, contrary to my custom, I had thoughtlessly left exposed on the desk. After the hours of study were over, he asked, in an off-hand kind of way, how far New York was from Canton. I thought it likely that the fellow knew already, and therefore I did not hesitate to tell him. He then took up the New York paper again, and, looking with great care at the date, began to count his fingers, mumbling something to himself in Chinese which I could not understand. Nothing more passed between us on the subject; but I felt from that day that I had a spy upon me. I did not like to discharge him from my service, because that would only excite him to greater mischief, and I never thought for a moment of taking him into my confidence.