![Messenger No. 48](https://cos-enres.cdreader.com/site-322(new)/0/7778/coverbig.jpg?v=56e7d01e115b7bf397705b33ece9f071)
What can be said about Casanova? Writer, seducer, poet, socialite, philosopher, friend of royalty, Mozart and Voltaire, wit, playwright, lover of life, man on the run. His life was more colourful than the most far-fetched tale and he was a lover and seducer as well as loved and seduced himself. His memoires run to several volumes of gripping narrative, being considered to be the most authentic source of the European social customs of the Eighteenth Century. Enjoy this edition of his memoires, complete and unabridged in a single volume.
"What's your name?"
"Jethro Lewis."
"How old are you?"
"I don't know."
"Judging from the size I shouldn't say you were over ten."
"My size 's against me, that's a fact; but I can run a good deal faster than some fellers twice as big."
The manager of the District Messenger Station did not attempt to conceal a smile as the boy spoke thus earnestly, and continued the examination by asking:
"Where do you live?"
"Down on East Tenth Street."
"Mother and father alive?"
"Both dead. I'm boardin' with Mammy Showers."
"As a rule we do not employ boys who have no parents."
"Why not? Can't they shinney 'round, jest as well as other fellers?"
"There is no question about that, but we prefer to have some one to look out for them."
"So would I, but there's no use kickin' when a feller can't have all them luxuries," Jet said gravely. "It ain't so awful nice to hustle for yourself with a chance of bein' fired outer the house if the board ain't paid right up to the minute."
"How have you been earning a living?"
"Most any way that come handy. Sometimes I sell papers, an' then agin I black boots. I did think one spell of goin' into the theayter biz, but I couldn't git the right kind of a job. I can dance a good many of them perfessionals way out of sight, but the managers won't hire a performer what ain't got good clothes."
Jet spoke in a business-like tone which evidently pleased the manager, for the latter said, after a short pause:
"I will give you a trial, and--"
"You couldn't do better," Jet interrupted gravely, "for if I can't hump myself ahead of that fat chump over there I don't want a cent," and he pointed to a very fleshy boy who was half asleep on a bench which extended across the rear of the room.
"Here is a cap," the manager continued. "Your number is forty-eight. We'll find a coat which will answer until another is made, and you are to go to work at once. Can you read?"
"Why cert."
"Then study this book of distances so you may know how much to charge for service, and set on that bench until it is your turn to go out."
Jet took the articles and was about to turn away from the desk when a very important question came into his mind.
"How much money are you goin' to give me a week?"
"Four dollars is the regular price for beginners; but there are good chances to advance if you attend to business."
This was evidently satisfactory to new number forty-eight, for he did as directed, and was soon busily engaged studying the tariff of prices, seated beside the fat boy who was now slumbering calmly.
For a short time Jet thought more about financial matters than of his lesson. Mammy Showers charged him a dollar and a half per week for a small room hardly larger than a cupboard, and two meals each day. He would now, providing he did not indulge in too many luxuries while traveling around the city, be able to save two dollars and a half every seven days, and it seemed very much as if he had fairly started on the highway to fortune.
"Well, if they call this work I'd like to have two or three jobs of the same kind." Jet said aloud when he was tired of studying the printed instructions. "I've been here a little more'n an hour, an' haven't been called off the bench once."
This remark appeared to arouse the fat boy to the consciousness of being alive, and on making great effort to sit upright, he noticed Jet for the first time.
"Hello! You're a new feller; I s'pose," he said with a yawn.
"Do you think I look very new?"
"You've jest com here to work, haven't you?"
"The way things look now I've come to set around an' keep the flies offer them young gents as has ter sleep forenoons."
"You'll be glad to do that same thing before you've worked here a week. It's dull now, but wait awhile, an' then see how the fellers have to hump themselves."
"Say, do you ever do very much?" Jet asked gravely.
"I was out on a job yesterday that I didn't get through with till past midnight."
"Do the fellers have to work so late as that?"
"Once in a while. You have to go where the customers send you, an' some of the jobs are funny ones."
"How far have you ever been on an errand?"
"Up to Albany to bring down a dog for a man what was goin' huntin'."
"Did you get him here?"
"Of course I did."
"It must have been mighty rough on the dog."
"Why?"
"'Caus he'd be away from home so long if he wasn't allowed to walk any faster than you can."
"Think you're funny, don't you?" and the fat boy made ready to resume his interrupted nap.
Before Jet could turn his attention to the tariff again the boy at the desk called loudly: "Number forty-eight!" and he went forward quickly, well pleased that something had occurred to break the monotony.
A summons had come from one of the hotels near by, and on answering it he found nothing of more importance than to carry a letter to a certain house in the immediate vicinity, but to Jet it was particularly agreeable work, since he was given ten cents more than the regular fee.
"If all the messages turn out like this one I shall have a mighty good thing of it," he said to himself, in a tone of satisfaction as he returned to the station.
Jet was called upon only twice more during this first day of his new work, and when he went home it was with the pleasing knowledge that he had received as presents fifteen cents.
On the following morning he was at his post so early that some of the "night boys" made sport of him for appearing at such an hour, predicting that in less than a week he would have "sense enough to stay at home till he was wanted."
He was not allowed to remain idle very long, however.
"Number forty-eight!" the man at the desk called sharply, and Jet leaped to his feet.
"Go to No. - East Fourteenth Street. Here is your slip."
Jet took the bit of paper and hurried away at full speed, to find that he had been sent to a bar-room which was by no means noted for bearing a good reputation so far as the honesty of its patrons was concerned.
Seated at one of the tables were two men. The elder, tall and slim, and the other of medium height, but rather fleshy.
"Come here!" the thin man called as the messenger entered, and Jet fancied that the fellow's full beard looked suspiciously heavy and black.
"I wouldn't like to bet that all that hair grew on his face," Jet said to himself, as he approached the table, but he gave the matter no further thought, for it was his business to obey orders, and not criticize his patrons.
"How long will it take you to go to the corner of Sixth Avenue and Fifteenth Street?"
"Not more than ten minutes."
"Take this satchel and give it to a party with red hair who is standing on the northwest corner."
"Suppose there should be more than one?" Jet asked as he took the traveling-bag which was remarkably light in weight although it was apparently stuffed full to bursting.
"The right man will ask your number, and you are to tell him it is one hundred and ten."
"But he can see by my cap that I'm forty-eight."
"Do as I tell you, and never mind about your cap, do you hear?"
"Yes, sir."
"He will give you something to bring back, and you are not to stop on the way, no matter what happens."
"I'm not in the habit of loafing," Jet replied, just a trifle indignantly, and before he could say anything more the short man added impatiently:
"Then don't do it here. Get on about your business, for we want the answer in the ten minutes you promised."
Jet started at once, feeling decidedly hurt at the tone used by the men, and, walking as rapidly as the crowds on the sidewalk would permit, was soon at the appointed place.
A rough booking fellow with a shock of red hair which looked quite as false as the tall man's whiskers, was waiting for him.
"What is your number?" he asked nervously.
"I was told to say one hundred and ten, but that isn't right."
"Give me the bag, and take this back," the man said, as he literally tore Jet's burden from him, and thrust into the boy's hands a paper parcel so heavy that it required all his strength to hold it on one arm.
Jet was on the point of handing this odd acting fellow the slip of paper that it might be signed according to the rules of the office, but before he could so much as take it from his pocket the man had disappeared among the throng.
"I suppose it's all right," he said in a tone of perplexity, "but I wish people would let a fellow do as the boss insists upon."
There was no time for delay if he intended to return within the ten minutes as had been promised, and he hurried away, arriving at the saloon only to be told by the bartender that the gentlemen had left some time previous.
"What am I to do with this?" and Jet held up the paper parcel.
"They said you was to go to this number on the Bowery. I reckon it's one of them cheap lodging houses."
Jet took the card which was held toward him, and, stopping only long enough to read the written words and number, hurried off once more.
This last address was, as the barkeeper had suggested, a small hotel, and on ascending the stairs to the tiny apartment called by courtesy "the office," found the tall man awaiting his arrival.
"I thought you was a boy who didn't do any loafing," the gentleman said gruffly.
"I haven't stopped a minute."
"Who did you hang around chinning with?"
"Nobody."
"Haven't you been talking to that other messenger?"
"Which one?"
"The fellow you met."
"I haven't spoken to anybody except the red-haired man, and he didn't give me a chance to do much talking."
"What is your fee?"
"Twenty-five cents."
"Here's half a dollar. If anybody asks where you have been say that it was to the Stock Exchange. I don't care to have a lot of people talking about my business, and a quarter should be enough to make you hold your tongue."
"Will you sign this slip, sir? the manager wants the distance and time on there."
"Do it yourself, and put it down as I tell you."
Jet obeyed, writing as the stranger dictated, and when he presented himself at the station once more the manager had no reason to believe he had been anywhere except to the Exchange.
With the Swamp Fox By James Otis Like the Robin Hood of legend, Francis Marion--the "Swamp Fox"--and his men attacked from secret hideaways before melting back into the forest or swamp, confounding the British. Although Marion bore little resemblance to the fictionalized portrayals in television and film, his exploits were no less heroic, as he and his band of militia freedom fighters kept hopes alive for the patriot cause and helped win the American Revolution We are delighted to publish this classic book as part of our extensive Classic Library collection. Many of the books in our collection have been out of print for decades, and therefore have not been accessible to the general public. The aim of our publishing program is to facilitate rapid access to this vast reservoir of literature, and our view is that this is a significant literary work, which deserves to be brought back into print after many decades. The contents of the vast majority of titles in the Classic Library have been scanned from the original works. To ensure a high quality product, each title has been meticulously hand curated by our staff. Our philosophy has been guided by a desire to provide the reader with a book that is as close as possible to ownership of the original work. We hope that you will enjoy this wonderful classic work, and that for you it becomes an enriching experience.
Follows the adventures of a young boy who runs away to join the circus and discovers, contrary to his expectations, that circus life is not always carefree and happy.
To the public, she was the CEO's executive secretary. Behind closed doors, she was the wife he never officially acknowledged. Jenessa was elated when she learned that she was pregnant. But that joy was replaced with dread as her husband, Ryan, showered his affections on his first love. With a heavy heart, she chose to set him free and leave. When they met again, Ryan's attention was caught by Jenessa's protruding belly. "Whose child are you carrying?!" he demanded. But she only scoffed. "It's none of your business, my dear ex-husband!"
There was only one man in Raegan's heart, and it was Mitchel. In the second year of her marriage to him, she got pregnant. Raegan's joy knew no bounds. But before she could break the news to her husband, he served her divorce papers because he wanted to marry his first love. After an accident, Raegan lay in the pool of her own blood and called out to Mitchel for help. Unfortunately, he left with his first love in his arms. Raegan escaped death by the whiskers. Afterward, she decided to get her life back on track. Her name was everywhere years later. Mitchel became very uncomfortable. For some reason, he began to miss her. His heart ached when he saw her all smiles with another man. He crashed her wedding and fell to his knees while she was at the altar. With bloodshot eyes, he queried, "I thought you said your love for me is unbreakable? How come you are getting married to someone else? Come back to me!"
She was the notorious Alana Wilson, a shameful daughter of the Wilson family. Her reputation went downhill after she broke her engagement with her fiance, Albert Harris. They pointed finger at her, calling her a cheater. However, in truth, who was the cheater here? Alana would do anything she could to have her engagement with Albert broken, even if it meant sacrificing her own reputation. Ten years of abuse she endured in her last life was enough. She made sure that in this life, she would never marry that cheating bastard again. As her previous crush, as well as her brother's best friend, Lorenzo Miller is now back to the country, what would happen to her already messed up life? Especially when her ex-fiance also didn't want to leave her alone.
In order to fulfill her grandfather's last wish, Stella entered into a hasty marriage with an ordinary man she had never met before. However, even after becoming husband and wife on paper, they each led separate lives, barely crossing paths. A year later, Stella returned to Seamarsh City, hoping to finally meet her mysterious husband. To her astonishment, he sent her a text message, unexpectedly pleading for a divorce without ever having met her in person. Gritting her teeth, Stella replied, "So be it. Let’s get a divorce!" Following that, Stella made a bold move and joined the Prosperity Group, where she became a public relations officer that worked directly for the company’s CEO, Matthew. The handsome and enigmatic CEO was already bound in matrimony, and was known to be unwaveringly devoted to his wife in private. Unbeknownst to Stella, her mysterious husband was actually her boss, in his alternate identity! Determined to focus on her career, Stella deliberately kept her distance from the CEO, although she couldn't help but notice his deliberate attempts to get close to her. As time went on, her elusive husband had a change of heart. He suddenly refused to proceed with the divorce. When would his alternate identity be uncovered? Amidst a tumultuous blend of deception and profound love, what destiny awaited them?
Rumors said that Lucas married an unattractive woman with no background. In the three years they were together, he remained cold and distant to Belinda, who endured in silence. Her love for him forced her to sacrifice her self-worth and her dreams. When Lucas' true love reappeared, Belinda realized that their marriage was a sham from the start, a ploy to save another woman's life. She signed the divorce papers and left. Three years later, Belinda returned as a surgical prodigy and a maestro of the piano. Lost in regret, Lucas chased her in the rain and held her tightly. "You are mine, Belinda."
After five years of marriage, my husband is always absent on my birthday. No gifts, no blessings. He said, "I've given you the money, buy whatever you want." But he started preparing for Fiona's birthday half a month in advance. He said, "She's different, she only has me." As the sole survivor of a unexpected fire, he has been heartbroken for over a decade. Watching Fiona in Moments holding a cake and kissing his face. I slowly commented. 【Just this useless person, I'm giving him to you.】