" According
to what are claimed to be authentic documents, the story is something
more than a nursery tale, and runs thus: Poor Dick Whittington was born
at Shropshire, of such very poor parents that the boy, being of an
ambitious nature, left home at fourteen, and walked to London, where he
was taken into the hospital of St. John at Clerkenwell, in a menial
capacity. The prior, noticing his good behavior and diligent conduct,
took a fancy to him, and obtained him a position in a Mr. Fitzwarren's
household on Tower Hill. For some time at this place his prospects did
not improve; he was nothing but a scullion, ridiculed and disliked by
the cook and other servants. Add to this the fact that an incredible
swarm of mice and rats infested the miserable room in which he slept,
and it would seem that he was indeed a "poor Richard." One fortunate
day, however, he conceived the idea of buying a cat, and as good luck
would have it, he was enabled within a few days to earn a penny or two
by blacking the boots of a guest at the house. That day he met a woman
with a cat for sale, and after some dickering (for she asked more money
for it than the boy possessed in the world), Dick Whittington carried
home his cat and put it in a cupboard or closet opening from his room.
That night when he retired he let the cat out of the cupboard, and she
evidently had "no end of fun"; for, according to these authentic
accounts, "she destroyed all the vermin which ventured to make their
appearance.
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