Horatio Alger

“ They did not remember that they were somebody's children, and that cold, and harshness, and want were as hard for them to bear as for those in a higher rank of life. But Mark was in that state of weakness when it seemed sweet to throw off all care or thought for the future, and to sink back upon the soft bale with the thought that he had nothing to do but to rest.
"That boy is going to be sick," thought Richard Hunter to himself. "I think he is going to have a fever." ”

“ Micky brought a glass of water, which was thrown in the face of Mark. The match boy gave a little shiver, and, opening his eyes, fixed them upon Richard Hunter.
"Where am I?" he asked, vacantly.
"You are with friends," said Richard, gently. "You were found at our door faint. Do you feel sick?"
"I feel weak," said Mark.
"Have you been well lately?"
"No, I've felt tired and weak."
"Are you a match boy?"
"Yes."
"Have you parents living?"
"No," said Mark.
"Poor fellow!" said Richard. "I know how to pity you. I have no parents either."
"But you have got money," said Mark. ”

“ In capacity and education he is far inferior to his old associate, Richard Hunter, who is destined to rise much higher than at present.
Richard Hunter went to the rear of the warehouse where Mark still lay on his bale.
"Come," he said; "we'll go home now."
Mark rose from his recumbent position, and walked to the door. He saw with surprise the carriage, the door of which Micky Maguire held open.
"Are we going to ride in that?" he asked.
"Yes," said Richard Hunter. "Let me help you in."
The little match boy sank back in the coft seat in vague surprise at his good luck. ”