And thus he did. At first, it went very hard with him. Some days he earned nothing; and a week of patient waiting brought but one shilling. But his broad face was so clean and honest, his manners so respectful, and his blacking so uncommonly good, that his customers gradually increased. One day, a gentleman who traded with him made a mistake, and gave him a shilling instead of a ten-cent piece. Fritz did not observe it at the moment; but the next day, when the gentleman passed to his counting-house, he followed him, and touched him on the arm. The merchant inquired what he wanted. Fritz showed the coin, saying, “Dat not mine.” “Neither is it mine,” rejoined the merchant; “what do you show it to me for?” The boy replied, in his imperfect English, “Dat too mooch.” A friend, who was with the merchant, addressed him in German; and the poor emigrant’s countenance lighted up, as if it had become suddenly transparent, and a lamp placed within it. Heaving a sigh, and blushing at his own emotion, he explained, in his native tongue, that he had accidently taken too much for his blacking, the day before. They looked at him with right friendly glances, and inquired into his history. He told them his name and parentage, and how Uncle Heinrich had attempted to bring him to America, and had been devoured by a shark on the way. He said he had not a single friend in this foreign land, but he meant to be honest and industrious, and he hoped he should do well. The gentlemen assured him that they should always remember him as Fritz Shilling, and that they would certainly speak of him to their friends. He did not understand the joke of his name, but he did understand that they bought all his blacking, and that customers increased more rapidly after that interview. It would be tedious to follow the emigrant through all the process of his gradually-improving fortune. As soon as he could spare anything from necessary food and clothing, he went to an evening school, where he learned to read, write, and cipher. He became first a shop-boy, then a clerk, and finally established a neat grocery-store for himself. Through all these changes, he continued to sell the blacking, which arrived at the honour of poetical advertisements in the newspapers, under the name of Schelling’s Best Boot Polisher.