son he could
hardly explain.

When fairly equipped, Dick surveyed himself in the mirror,--if the
little seven-by-nine-inch looking-glass, with which the room was
furnished, deserved the name. The result of the survey was not on
the whole a pleasing one. To tell the truth, Dick was quite ashamed
of his appearance, and, on opening the chamber-door, looked around
to see that the coast was clear, not being willing to have any of
his fellow-boarders see him in his present attire.

He managed to slip out into the street unobserved, and, after
attending to two or three regular customers who came down-town
early in the morning, he made his way down Nassau Street to the
post-office. He passed along until he came to a compartment on
which he read ADVERTISED LETTERS, and, stepping up to the little
window, said,--

"There's a letter for me. I saw it advertised in the 'Sun'
yesterday."

"What name?" demanded the clerk.

"Ragged Dick," answered our hero.

"That's a queer name," said the clerk, surveying him a little
curiously. "Are you Ragged Dick?"

"If you don't believe me, look at my clo'es," said Dick.

"That's pretty good proof, certainly," said the clerk, laughing. "If
that isn't your name, it deserves to be."

"I believe in dressin' up to your name," said Dick.

"Do you know any one in Barnton, Connecticut?" asked the clerk, who
had by this time found the letter.

"Yes," said Dick. "I know a chap that's at boardin'-school there."

"It appears to be in a boy's hand. I think it must be yours."

The letter was handed to Dick through the window. He received it
eagerly, and drawing back so as not to be in the way of the throng
who were constantly applying for letters, or slipping them into the
boxes provided for them, hastily opened it, and began to read. As
the reader may be interested in the contents of the letter as well
as Dick, we transcribe it below.

It was dated Barnton, Conn., and commenced thus,--

"DEAR DICK,--You must excuse my addressing this letter to 'Ragged
Dick'; but the fact is, I don't know what your last name is, nor
where you live. I am afraid there is not much chance of your getting
this letter; but I hope you will. I have thought of you very often,
and wondered how you were getting along, and I should have written
to you before if I had known where to direct.

"Let me tell you a little about myself. Barnton is a very
pretty country town, only about six miles from Hartford. The
boardin