“This coat once belonged to General Washington,” said Dick, comically. “He wore it all through the Revolution, and it got tore some, ’cause he fit so hard. When he died he told his widder to give it to some smart young fellow that hadn’t got none of his own: so she gave it to me. But if you’d like it, sir, to remember General Washington by, I’ll let you have it reasonable.”
“Thank you, but I wouldn’t like to deprive you of it. And did your pants come from General Washington, too?”
“No, they was a gift from Lewis Napoleon. Lewis had outgrown ’em and sent ’em to me; he’s bigger than me, and that’s why they don’t fit.
“It seems you have distinguished friends. Now, my lad, I suppose you would like your money.”
“I shouldn’t have any objection,” said Dick.
And now, having fairly introduced Ragged Dick to my young readers, I must refer them to the next chapter for his further adventures.
