LUGGAGE 
 BOY 
 
 n 
 
 BY 
 HORATIO ALGERJfc 
 
LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OP 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; 
 
 OK, 
 
 AMONG THE WHAKVES. 
 
 BY 
 
 HORATIO ALGER, JR., 
 
 A.UTHOR OF " RAGGED DICK," " FAME AND FORTUNE," " MARK, THE MATCH 
 
 BOY," " ROUGH AND READY," " CAMPAIGN SERIES," 
 
 "LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES," ETC. 
 
 THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO., 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, 
 CHICAGO, TORONTO. 
 
IOAN STACK 
 
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 RAGGED DICK SERIES. By HORATIO ALGER, JE. 6 vols. 12mo. Cloth. 
 RAGGED DICK. ROUGH AND READY. 
 
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 NEW WORLD SERIES. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 3 vols. 12mo. Cloth. 
 DIGGING FOR GOLD. FACING THE WORLD. IN A NEW WORLD. 
 
 Other Volumes in Preparation. 
 
 COPYRIGHT BY A. K. LORING, 1870. 
 
 COPYRIGHT BY HORATIO ALGER, JR., 
 
77-1 
 
 A.1T3STID, 
 
 VOLUME 18 DBDIOATV9 
 
 Ctnfcer 
 
 237 
 
PBEFACE. 
 
 I* piesenting "Ben, the Luggage Boy," to the public, M 
 the fifth of the Ragged Dick Series, the author desires to 
 gay tnat it is in all essential points a true history; the 
 particulars of the story having been communicated to him, 
 by Ben himself, nearly two years since. In particular, 
 the circumstances attending the boy's running away from 
 home, and adopting the life of a street boy, are in strict 
 accordance with Ben's own statement. While some of 
 the street incidents are borrowed from the writer's own 
 observation, those who are really familiar with the dif- 
 ferent phases which street life assumes in New York, will 
 readily recognize their fidelity. The chapter entitled 
 " The Room under the Wharf " will recall to many readers 
 of the daily journals a paragraph which made its appear- 
 ance within two years. The writer cannot close without 
 expressing anew his thanks for the large share of favoi 
 
Tin PREFACE. 
 
 which has been accorded to the volumes of the present 
 series, and takes this opportunity of saying that, in their 
 preparation, invention has piayed but a subordinate part 
 For his delineations of character and choice of incidents, 
 be has been mainly indebted to his own observation, 
 aided by valuable communications and suggestions from 
 those who have been brought into familiar acquaintance 
 with the class whose mode of life he ha* soo&ht to 
 describe. 
 
 Vow YORK, April ft. MS* 
 
BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY ; 
 
 AMONG THE WHARVES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCES BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOT. 
 
 * How much yer made this mornin', Ben?" 
 
 " Nary red," answered Ben, composedly. 
 
 "Had yer breakfast?" 
 
 " Only an apple. That's all I've eaten since yeste* 
 day. It's most time for the train to be in from Phila 
 delphy. I'm layin* round for a job." 
 
 The first speaker was a short, freckled-faced boy, 
 whose box strapped to his back identified him at once 
 as a street boot-black. His hair was red, his fingers 
 defaced by stains of blacking, and his clothing con- 
 structed on the most approved system of ventilation. 
 He appeared to be about twelve years old. 
 
HO BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OJS, 
 
 The boy whom he addressed as Ben was taller, and 
 looked older. He was probably not far from sixteen. 
 His face and hands, though browned by exposure to 
 wind and weather, were several shades cleaner than 
 those of his companion. His face, too, was of a less 
 common type. It was easy to see that, if he had 
 been well dressed, he might readily have been taken 
 for a gentleman's son. But in his present attire there 
 was little chance of this mistake being made. His 
 pants, marked by a green stripe, small around the 
 waist and very broad at the hips, had evident^ once 
 belonged to a Bowery swell ; for the Bowery has its 
 swells as well as Broadway, its more aristocratic 
 neighbor. The vest had been discarded as a need- 
 less luxury, its place being partially supplied by a 
 shirt of thick red flannel. This was covered by a 
 frock-coat, which might once have belonged to a mem- 
 ber of the Fat Men's Association, being aldermanic 
 in its proportions. Now it was fallen from its high 
 estate, its nap and original gloss had long departed r 
 and it was *rayed and torn in many places. But 
 among the street-boys dress is not much regarded, and 
 Ben never thought of apologizing for the defects of 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES, 
 
 ills wardrobe. We shall learn in time what were hi8 
 faults and what his virtues, for I can assure my 
 readers that street boys do have virtues sometimes, 
 and when they are thoroughly convinced that a ques- 
 tioner feels an interest in them will drop the " chaff" 
 in which they commonly indulge, and talk seriously 
 and feelingly of their faults and hardships. Some 
 do this for a purpose, no doubt, and the verdant stran- 
 ger is liable to be taken in by assumed virtue, and 
 waste sympathy on those who do not deserve it. But 
 there are also many boys who have good tendencies 
 and aspirations, and only need to be encouraged and 
 placed under right influences to develop into worthy 
 and respectable men. 
 
 The conversation recorded above took place at the 
 foot of Contlandt Street, opposite the ferry wharf. It 
 was nearly time for the train, and there was the usual 
 scene of confusion. Express wagons, hacks, boys, 
 laborers, were gathering, presenting a confusing med- 
 ley to the eye of one unaccustomed to the spectacle. 
 
 Ben was a luggage boy, his occupation being to 
 wait at the piers for the arrival of steamboats, o^ at 
 the railway stations, on the chance of getting a carpeV 
 
12 BEN, THE LUGGAGE EOT; 0JS, 
 
 bag 01 valise to carry. His business was a prec* 
 rious one. Sometimes he was lucky, sometimes un- 
 lucky. When he was flush, he treated himself to a 
 " square meal," and finished up the day at Tony Pas- 
 tor's, or the Old Bowery, where from his seat in the 
 pit he indulged in independent criticism of the acting, 
 as he leaned back in his seat and munched peanuts, 
 throwing the shells about carelessly. 
 
 It is not surprising that the street-boys like the 
 Old Bowery, and are willing to stint their stomachs, 
 or run the risk of a night in the streets, for the sake 
 of the warm room and the glittering illusions of the 
 stage, introducing them for the time being to the soci- 
 ety of nobles and ladies of high birth, and enabling 
 them to forget for a time the hardships of their own 
 lot, while they follow with rapt interest the fortunes 
 of Lord Frederic Montressor or the Lady Imogene 
 Delacour. Strange as it may seem, the street Arab 
 nas a decided fancy for these pictures of aristocracy, 
 *iu never suspects their want of fidelity. When the 
 play ends, and Lord Frederic comes to his own, hav- 
 ing foiled all the schemes of his crafty and unprinci- 
 pled enemies, no one rejoices more than the ragged 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 13 
 
 boy who has sat through the evening an interested 
 spectator of the play, and in his pleasure at the suc- 
 cessful denouement, he almost forgets that he will 
 probably find the Newsboys' Lodging House closed 
 for the night, and be compelled to take up with such 
 sleeping accommodations as the street may provide. 
 
 Ben crossed the street, taking a straight coarse, 
 without paying especial attention to the mud, which 
 caused other pedestrians to pick their way. To the 
 condition of his shoes he was supremely indifferent. 
 Stockings he did not wear. They are luxuries in 
 which few street boys indulge. 
 
 He had not long to wait. The boat bumped against 
 the wharf, and directly a crowd of passengers poured 
 through the open gates in a continuous stream. 
 
 Ben looked sharply around him to judge who would 
 be likely to employ him. His attention was drawn 
 to an elderly lady, with a large carpet-bag swelled 
 almost to bursting. She was looking about her in a 
 bewildered manner. 
 
 44 Carry your bag, ma'am ? " he said, at the same 
 time motioning towards it. 
 
 " Who be you? " asked the old lady, suspiciously. 
 
14 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY ; OB, 
 
 " Tin a baggage-smasher," said Ben. 
 
 " Then I don't want you,'* answered the old lady, 
 clinging to her bag as if she feared it would be 
 wrested from her. " I'm surprised that the law 
 allows sich things. You might be in a better busi- 
 ness, young man, than smashing baggage." 
 
 " That's where you're right, old lady," said Ben. 
 
 " Bankin' would pay better, if I only had the money 
 to start on." 
 
 " Are you much acquainted in New York? " asked 
 the old lady. 
 
 " Yes," said Ben ; " I know the mayor 'n' alder- 
 men, 'n' all the principal men. A. T. Stooart's my 
 intimate friend, and I dine with Vanderbilt every 
 Sunday when I aint engaged at Astor's." 
 
 u Do you wear them clo'es when you visit your fine 
 friends ? " asked the old lady, shrewdly. 
 
 " No," said Ben. " Them are my every-day clo'es. 
 I've got some velvet clo'es to home, embroidered with 
 gold." 
 
 44 1 believe you are telling fibs," said the old lady. 
 " What I want to know 13, if you know my darter, 
 Mrs. John Jones ; her first name is Seraphiny. Sbe 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 1ft 
 
 fives on Bleecker Street, and her husband, who is a 
 nice man, though his head is bald on top, keeps a 
 grocery store." 
 
 " Of course I do," said Ben. " It was only yes 
 terday that she told me her mother was comin' to 
 ee her. I might have knowed you was she." 
 " How would you have knowed?" 
 " Cause she told me just how you looked." 
 " Did she ? How did she say I looked ? " 
 44 She said you was most ninety, and " 
 44 It isn't true," said the old lady, indignantly. 
 44 I'm only seventy-three, and everybody says I'm 
 wonderful young-lookin' for my years. I don't be- 
 lieve Seraphiny told you so." 
 
 44 She might have said you looked as if you was 
 most ninety." 
 
 44 You're a sassy boy ! M said the owner of the car- 
 pet-bag, indignantly. 44 1 don't see how I'm going to 
 get up to Seraphiny's," she continued, comp!ainingly. 
 44 They'd ought to have come down to meet me. How 
 much will you charge to carry my carpet-bag, and 
 how me the way to my darter's? " 
 44 Fifty cents," said Ben. 
 
16 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OJZ, 
 
 " Fifty cents ! " repeated the old lady, aghast. " 1 
 didn't think you'd charge more'n ten." 
 
 " I have to," said Ben. * 4 Board's high in New 
 York." 
 
 " How much would they charge me in a carriage? 
 Here you, sir," addressing a hackman, " what'll you 
 charge to carry me to my darter's house, Mrs. John 
 Jones, in Bleecker Street?" 
 
 "What's the number? " 
 
 " I think it's a hundred and sixty-three." 
 
 "A dollar and a half." 
 
 " A dollar V a half? Couldn't you do it for 
 less?" 
 
 " Carry your bag, sir?" asked Ben, of a gentleman 
 passing. 
 
 The gentleman shook his head. 
 
 He made one or two other proposals, which being 
 in like manner unsuccessful, he returned to the old 
 lady, who, having by this time got through her nego- 
 tiations with the hackman, whom she had vainly 
 striven to beat down to seventy-five cents, was in a 
 more favorable mood to accept Ben's services. 
 
 " Can't you take less than fifty cents? " she asked, 
 
AMONG TUB W1IA.RY&8* i7 
 
 " No," said Ben, decidedly. 
 
 " I'll give you forty." 
 
 u Couldn't dp it," said Ben, who felt sure of gain* 
 ing his point now. 
 
 " Well, I suppose I shall be obleeged to hire you, 1 * 
 said the old lady with a sigh. Seraphiny ought to 
 have sent down to meet me. I didn't tell her I waa 
 comin' to-day ; but she might have thought I'd come, 
 bein* so pleasant. Here, yoi. boy, you may take the 
 bag, and mind you don't run away with it. There 
 aint nothin' in it but some of my clo'es." 
 
 " I don't want none of your clo'es," said Ben. 
 " My wife's bigger*n you, and they wouldn't fit her." 
 
 " Massy sakes ! you aint married, be you?" 
 
 "Why shouldn't I be?" 
 
 "I don't believe it. You're not old enough. 
 But I'm glad you don't want the clo'es. They 
 wouldn't be of no use to you. Just you take the 
 bag, and I'll fbller on behind." 
 
 " I want my pay first." 
 
 44 1 aint got the change. My darter Seraphiny wfll 
 pay you when we get to her house." 
 9 
 
18 BBN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 " That don't go down," said Ben, decidedly* 
 " Payment in advance ; that's the way I do business." 
 
 " You'll get your pay ; don't you be afraid." 
 
 " I know I shall ; but I want it now." 
 
 "You won't run away after I've paid you, will 
 you?" 
 
 " In course not. That aint my style." 
 
 The old lady took out her purse, and drew there- 
 from forty-seven cents. She protested that she had 
 not a cent more. Ben pardoned the deficiency, 
 feeling that he would, notwithstanding, be well paid 
 for his time. 
 
 "All right," said he, magnanimously. "I don't 
 mind the three cents. It aint any object to a man of 
 my income. Take my hand, old lady, and we'll go 
 across the street." 
 
 "I'm afraid of bein' run over," said she, hesi- 
 tatingly. 
 
 " What's the odds if you be? " said Ben. " The 
 city'll have to pay you damages." 
 
 "Btf; if I got killed, that wouldn't do me any 
 good," remarked the old lady, sensibly. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 19 
 
 " Then the money'd go to your friends, ' said Ben, 
 consolingly. 
 
 " Do you think I will be run over ? " asked the old 
 lady, anxiously. 
 
 " In course you won't. I'll take care of you. 
 They wouldn't dare to run over me," said Ben, con- 
 fidently. 
 
 Somewhat reassured by this remark, the old lady 
 submitted to Ben's guidance, and was piloted across 
 the street in safety. 
 
 " I wouldn't live in New York for a heap of money. 
 It would be as much as my life is worth," she re- 
 marked. " How far is Bleecker Street? " 
 
 " About two miles." 
 
 " I almost wish I'd rid. But a dollar and a half 
 Is a sight to pay." 
 
 " You'd have to pay more than that." 
 
 " That's all the man asked." 
 
 " I know, " said Ben ; " but when he'd got yo* 
 there, he'd have charged you five dollars." 
 
 " I wouldn't have paid it." 
 
 u Yes, you would," said Ben. 
 
 " He couldn't make me," 
 
580 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 " If yuu didn't pay, he'd have locked you in, and 
 driven you off to the river, and dumped you in." 
 
 " Do they ever do such things?" asked the old 
 lady, startled. 
 
 " In course they do. Only last week a beautiful 
 young lady was served that way, 'cause she wouldn't 
 pay what the hackman wanted." 
 
 " And what was done to him ? " 
 
 " Nothin', " said Ben. " The police is in league 
 with 'em, and get their share of the money." 
 
 "Why, you don't say so! What a wicked 
 place New York is, to be sure I " 
 
 " Of course it is. It's so wicked I'm goin' to the 
 country myself as soon as I get money enough to 
 buy a farm." 
 
 "Have you got much money saved up?" asked 
 the old lady, interested. 
 
 "Four thousand six hundred and seventy-seven 
 dollars and fifty-five cents. I don't count this 
 money you give me, 'cause I'm goin' to spend it." 
 
 "You didn't make it all carryin' carpet-bags,* 
 aid the old lady, incredulously. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 21 
 
 44 No, I made most of it spekilatin' in reai estate,* 
 aid Ben. 
 
 " You don't say I " 
 
 44 Yes, I do." 
 
 44 You've got most enough to buy a farm a'ready.* 
 
 44 I aint goin' to buy till I can buy a good one." 
 
 44 What's the name of this street?" 
 
 44 West Broadway." 
 
 They were really upon West Broadway by thif 
 time, that being as direct a line as any to Bleecker 
 Street. 
 
 44 You see that store," said Ben. 
 
 44 Yes ; what's the matter of it? " 
 
 u I don't own it now" said Ben. 44 1 sold it, co* 
 the tenants didn't pay their rent reg'lar." 
 
 44 1 should think you'd dress better if you've got 
 so much money," said the old lady, not unnaturally. 
 
 " What's the use of wearin* nice clo'es round 
 among the wharves ? " said Ben. 
 
 44 There's suthin in that. I tell my darter Jane 
 she lives in the country that it's no use dressin* up 
 the chillren to go to school, they're sure to #* 
 their clo'es tore and dirty afore they get home." 
 
22 BEN, THE LUGGAGE EOT; OR, 
 
 So Ben beguiled the way with wonderful stories, 
 with which he played upon the old lady's credu- 
 lity. Of course it was wrong ; but a street education 
 is not very likely to inspire its pupils with a rev- 
 erence for truth ; and Ben had been knocking about 
 the streets of New York, most of the time among 
 the wharves, for six years. His street education 
 had commenced at the age of ten. He had adopted 
 it of his own free will. Even now there was a com- 
 fortable home waiting for him ; there were parents 
 who supposed him dead, and who would have found 
 a difficulty in recognizing him under his present 
 circumstances. In the next chapter a light will be 
 thrown upon his past history, and the reader will 
 learn how his street life began. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 28 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HOW BEN COMMENCED HIS STREET LIFE. 
 
 ONE pleasant morning, six years before the date 
 at which this story commences, a small coasting-ves- 
 ael drew up at a North River pier in the lower part of 
 the city. It was loaded with freight, but there wa 
 at least one passenger on board. A boy of ten, 
 dressed in a neat jacket and pants of gray-mixed 
 cloth, stood on deck, watching with interest the busy 
 city which they had just reached. 
 
 44 Well, bub, here we are," said the captain as he 
 passed. 4t I suppose you know your way home." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Are you going on shore now?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, good luck to you, my lad. If you are ever 
 down this way, when I'm in port, I shall be glad to 
 see you." 
 
 44 Thank you, sir ; good-by." 
 
24 BNj THE LUGGAGE BOY; OJS, 
 
 " Good-by." 
 
 Ben clambered over the side, and stepped upon the 
 wharf. In the great city he knew no one, and he 
 was an utter stranger to the streets, never before 
 having visited it. He was about to begin life for 
 himself at the age of ten. He had voluntarily under- 
 taken to support himself, leaving behind him a com- 
 fortable home, where he had been well cared for. I 
 must explain how this came about. 
 
 Ben had a pleasant face, and would be considered 
 good-looking. But there was a flash in his eye, when 
 aroused, which showed that he had a quick temper, 
 and there was an expression of firmness, unusual 
 to one so young, which might have been read by 
 an experienced physiognomist. He was quick-tem- 
 pered, proud, and probably obstinate. Yet with 
 these qualities he was pleasant in his manners, and 
 had a sense of humor, which made him a favorite 
 among his companions. 
 
 His father was a coal-dealer in a town a few miles 
 distant from Philadelphia, of a hasty temper like 
 Ben himself. A week before he had punished Ben 
 severely for a fault which he had not committed. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 25 
 
 The boy's pride revolted at the injustice, and, young 
 as he was, he resolved to run away. I suppose there 
 are few boys who do not form this resolution at some 
 time or other in their lives ; but as a general thing 
 it amounts to nothing. With Ben it was different. 
 His was a strong nature, whether for good or for evil, 
 and when he decided to do anything he was not 
 easily moved from his resolve. He forgot, in the 
 present case, that, though he had been unjustly pun- 
 ished, the injustice was not intentional on the part of 
 his father, who had been under a wrong impression 
 respecting him. But right or wrong, Ben made up 
 his mind to run away ; and he did so. It was too 
 or three days before a good opportunity presented 
 itself. Then, with a couple of shirts and collars 
 rolled up in a small bundle, he made his escape 
 to Philadelphia, and after roaming about the streets 
 for several hours he made his way to the wharves, 
 where he found a vessel bound for New York. Rep- 
 resenting to the captain that he lived in New York, 
 and had no money to pay his passage home, that offi* 
 cer, who was a good-natured man, agreed to carry 
 him for nothing. 
 
26 BJE..V, THE LUGGAGE EOT; OB, 
 
 The voyage was now over, and Ben landed, a 
 we have said, an utter stranger, with very indefinite 
 ideas as to how he was to make his living. He 
 had told the captain that he knew his way home, for 
 having falsely represented that he lived in New York, 
 he was in a manner compelled to this additional 
 falsehood. Still, in spite of his friendless condition, 
 his spirits were very good. The sun shone brightly ; 
 all looked animated and cheerful. Ben saw numbers 
 of men at work about him, and he thought, * * It will 
 be a pity if I cannot make a living." 
 
 He did not care to linger about the wharf, for the 
 captain might be led to doubt his story. Accord- 
 ingly he crossed the street, and at a venture turned 
 up a street facing the wharf. 
 
 Ben did not know much about New York, even by 
 report. But he had heard of Broadway, as who has 
 not? and this was about all he did know. When, 
 therefore, he had gone a short distance, he ventured 
 to ask a boot-black, whom he encountered at the 
 corner of the next block, " Can you tell me tht 
 shortest way to Broadway ? " 
 
 " Follow your nose, Johnny," was the reply. 
 
ASFONQ THE WHARVES. 27 
 
 * My name isn't Johnny," replied Ben, rather 
 indignant at the familiarity. He had not learned 
 that, in New York, Johnny is the generic name fct 
 boy, where the specific name is unknown. 
 
 44 Aint it though?" returned the boot-black 
 " What's the price of turnips out where you live? n 
 
 " I'll make your nose turn up if you aint careftd," 
 retorted Ben, wrathfully. 
 
 "You'll do," said the boot-black, favorably im- 
 pressed by Ben's pluck. " Just go straight ahead, 
 and you'll come to Broadway. I'm going that way, 
 and you can come along with me if you want to." 
 
 " Thank you," said Ben, appeased by the boy's 
 changed manner. 
 
 " Are you going to stay here? " inquired his ne*r 
 acquaintance. 
 
 " Yes," said Ben ; " I'm going to live here." 
 
 " Where do your friends live ? " 
 
 "I haven't got any friends in New York," said 
 Ben, with a little hesitation. 
 
 44 Over in Brooklyn, or Jersey, maybe? " 
 
 ** No, I don't know anybody this way.** 
 
28 MEN) THE LUGGAGE BOY; OB, 
 
 "Whew!" whistled the other. "How you goin 
 to live?" 
 
 ** I expect to earn my living," said Ben, in a tone 
 of importance. 
 
 " Father and mother dead?" 
 
 " No, they're alive." 
 
 " I s'pose they're poor ? " 
 
 " No, they're not ; they're well off." 
 
 The boot-black looked puzzled. 
 
 "Why didn't you stay at home then? Wouldn't 
 they let you?" 
 
 " Of course they would. The fact is, I've run 
 away." 
 
 " Maybe they'd adopt me instead of you." 
 
 " I don't think they would," said Ben, laughing. 
 
 " I wish somebody with lots of cash would adopt 
 me, and make a gentleman of me. It would be a 
 good sight better*n blackin' boots." 
 
 "Do you make much money that way?" inquired 
 Ben. 
 
 " Pleasant days like tLis, sometimes I make * 
 dollar , but when it rains there aint much doin'." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 29 
 
 ' How much have you made this morning ? " asked 
 Bon, with interest. 
 
 " Sixty cents." 
 
 " Sixty cents, and it isn't more than ten o'clock. 
 That's doing pretty well." 
 
 " 'Taint so good in the afternoon. Most every 
 body gets their boots blacked in the mornin'. What 
 are you goin' to do?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Ben. 
 
 "Goin' to black boots? I'll show you how," said 
 the other, generously overlooking all considerations 
 of possible rivalry. 
 
 " I don't think I should like that very well," said 
 Ben, slowly. 
 
 Having been brought up in a comfortable home, 
 he had a prejudice in favor of clean hands and un- 
 soiled clothes, a prejudice of which his street life 
 speedily cured him. 
 
 " I think I should rather sell papers, or go into a 
 store," said Ben. 
 
 " You can't make so i>uch money sellin' papers," 
 said his new acquaintance. "Then you might get 
 * stuck'" 
 
80 BEN) THE LUGGAGE BOY; O/Z, 
 
 "What's that?" inquired Ben, innocently. 
 
 " Don't you know? " asked the boot-black, wonder 
 Lngly. " Why, it's when you've got more papers than 
 you can sell. That's what takes off the profits. 1 
 was a newsboy once ; but it's too hard work for the 
 money. There aint no chance of gettin' stuck on my 
 business." 
 
 " It's rather a dirty business," said Ben, venturing 
 to state his main objection, at the risk of offending. 
 But Jerry Collins, for that was his name, was not 
 very sensitive on this score. 
 
 "What's the odds? "he said, indifferently. "A 
 feller gets used to it." 
 
 Ben looked at Jerry's begrimed hands, and clothes 
 liberally marked with spots of blacking, and he felt 
 that he was not quite ready to get used to appearing 
 in public in this way. He was yet young in his 
 street life. The time came when he ceased to be so 
 particular. 
 
 "Where do you board?" asked Ben, after a little 
 pause. 
 
 Jerry Collins stared at the questioner as if he sn*> 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 31 
 
 pected that a joke was intended. But Ben's serious 
 face assured him that he was in earnest^ 
 
 " You're jolly green," he remarked, sententiously. 
 
 " Look here," said Ben, with spirit, " I'll give 
 you a licking if you say that again." 
 
 It may be considered rather singular that Jerry, 
 Instead of resenting this threat, was led by it to regard 
 Ben with favor. 
 
 "I didn't mean anything," he said, by way of 
 apology. " You're a trump, and you'll get over it 
 when you've been in the city a week." 
 
 " What made you call me green? " asked Ben. 
 
 " Did you think I boarded up to the Fifth Av 
 enue ? " asked Jerry. ' 
 
 " What's that, a hotel ? " 
 
 " Yes, it's one of the big hotels, where they eat off 
 gold plates." 
 
 " No, I don't suppose you board there," said Ben, 
 laughing ; " but I suppose there are cheaper board- 
 ing-places. Where do you sleep ? " 
 
 41 Sometimes in wagons, or in door- ways, on th 
 docks, or anywhere where I get a chance." 
 
82 BEN, THE LUGQAUE SOT; OR. 
 
 "Don't you get cold sleeping out-doors?" asked 
 Ben. 
 
 " Oh, I'm used to it," said Jerry. " When it's cold 
 I go to the Lodging House/' 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 Jerry explained that there was a Newsboys' Lodg- 
 ing House, where a bed could be obtained for six 
 cents a night. 
 
 "That's cheap," said Ben. 
 
 " 'Taint so cheap as sleepin' out-doors," returned 
 he boot-black. 
 
 This was true ; but Ben thought he would rather 
 )ay the six cents than sleep out, if it were only for 
 the damage likely to come to his clothes, which were 
 yet clean and neat. Looking at Jerry's suit, how- 
 ever, he saw that this consideration would be likely 
 to have less weight with him. He began to under- 
 stand that he had entered upon a very different life 
 from the one he had hitherto led. He was not easily 
 daunted, however. 
 
 " If he can stand it, I can/' he said to himself, 
 
AMONG THB WHARVJC8. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 STREET SCENES* 
 
 I 
 
 " HEBE'S Broadway," said Jerry, suddenly. 
 
 They emerged from the side street on which thej 
 bad been walking, and, turning the corner, found 
 themselves in the great thoroughfare, a block or two 
 above Trinity Church. 
 
 Ben surveyed the busy scenes that opened before 
 him, with the eager interest of a country boy who 
 saw them for the first time. 
 
 " What church is that?" he asked, pointing to the 
 tall spire of the imposing church that faces Wall 
 Street. 
 
 44 That's Trinity Church." 
 
 " Do you go to church there?" 
 
 4 1 don't go anywhere else," said Jerry, equivo 
 calty " What's the use of going to church ? " 
 
 " I thought everybody went to church," said Ben, 
 speaking from his experience in a country village 
 
 3 
 
54 BEX, THK LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 41 that is, most everybody," he corrected himself, as 
 several persons occurred to his mind who were more 
 punctual in their attendance at the liquor saloon 
 than the church. 
 
 " If I'd got good clothes like you have I'd go once 
 just to see what it's like ; but Fd a good sight rather 
 go to the old Bowery Theatre." 
 
 " But you ought not to say that," said Ben, a little 
 startled. 
 
 i 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because it's better to go to church than to the 
 theatre." 
 
 "Is it?" said Jerry. "Well, you can go if you 
 want to. Fd give more for a stunnin* old play at the 
 Bowery than fifty churches." 
 
 Ben began to suspect that Jerry was rather loose 
 in his ideas on the subject of religion, but did not 
 think it best to say so, for fear of giving offence, 
 though in all probability Jerry's sensitiveness would 
 not have been at all disturbed by such a charge. 
 
 During the last portion of the conversation they 
 bad been standing still at the street corner. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 35 
 
 11 I'm g-oin' to Nassau Street," said Jerry " If you 
 want to go up Broadway, that's the way." 
 
 "Without waiting for an answer he darted acrosi 
 the street, threading his way among the numerous 
 vehicles with a coolness and a success which amazed 
 Ben, who momentarily expected to see him run over. 
 He drew a long breath when he saw him safe on the 
 other side, and bethought himself that he would not 
 like to take a similar risk. He felt sorry to hare 
 Jerry leave him so abruptly. The boot-black had 
 already imparted to him considerable information 
 about New York, which he saw was likely to be of 
 benefit to him. Besides, he felt that any society was 
 better than solitude, and a sudden feeling of loneli 
 ness overpowered him, as he felt that among the 
 crowd of persons that jostled him as he stood at the 
 corner, there was not one who felt an interest in him, 
 or even knew his name. It was very different in his 
 native village, where he knew everybody, and every- 
 body had a friendly word for him. The thought did 
 occur to him for a moment whether he had been wise 
 in running away from home ; but the thought of tb 
 
$6 BEN f THE LUGGAGE BOT; OJZ, 
 
 unjust punishment came with it, and his expression 
 became firmer and more resolute. 
 
 u I won't go home if I starve," he said proudly to 
 himself ; and armed with this new resolution he pro- 
 ceeded up Broadway. 
 
 His attention was soon drawn to the street mer- 
 chants doing business on the sidewalk. Here was a 
 vender of neckties, displaying a varied assortment of 
 different colors, for " only twenty-five cents each." 
 Next came a candy merchant with his stock in trade, 
 divided up into irregular lumps, and labelled a penny 
 apiece. They looked rather tempting, and Ben 
 would have purchased, but he knew very well that 
 his cash capital amounted to only twenty-five cents, 
 which, considering that be was as yet without an 
 income, was likely to be wanted for other purposes. 
 
 Next came a man with an assortment of knives, 
 all of them open, and sticking into a large board, 
 which was the only shop required by their proprietor. 
 Ben stopped a moment to look at them. He had 
 always had a fancy for knives, but was now without 
 one. In fact he had sold a handsome knife, which he 
 had received as a birthday present, for seventy- 
 
THE WHARVES. 39 
 
 He crossed to the foot of the Park, and walked up 
 on the Park Row side. Here again he saw a line of 
 street merchants. Most conspicuous were the deal- 
 ers in penny ballads, whose wares lined the railings, 
 and were various enough to suit every taste. Here 
 was an old woman, who might have gained a first 
 prize for ugliness, presiding over an apple-stand. 
 
 " Take one, honey ; it's only two tints," she said, 
 observing that Ben's attention was drawn to a rosy- 
 cheeked apple. 
 
 Ben was rather hungry, and reflecting that prob- 
 ably apples were as cheap as any other article of 
 diet, he responded to the appeal by purchasing. It 
 proved to be palatable, and he ate it with a good 
 relish. 
 
 " Ice-cream, only a penny a glass," was the next 
 announcement. The glasses, to be sure, were of very 
 small size. Still ice-cream in any quantity for a 
 penny seemed so ridiculously cheap that Ben, poor 
 as he was, could not resist the temptation. 
 
 " I'll take a glass," he said. 
 
 A dab of ice-cream was deposited in a glass 1 
 mi 1 with a pewter spcon handed to Ben. He raised 
 
40 BEN, THE LUGGAGE EOT; OR, 
 
 the spoon to his mouth, but alas ! the mixture waa 
 not quite so tempting to the taste as to the eye and 
 the pocket. It might be ice-cream, but there was 
 an indescribable flavor about it, only to be explained 
 on the supposition that the ice had been frozen 
 dish-water. Ben's taste had not been educated up 
 to that point which would enable him to relish it. He 
 laid it down with an involuntary contortion of the 
 face. 
 
 44 Give it to me, Johnny," he heard at his elbow. 
 
 Turning, he saw a small, dirty-faced boy of six, 
 with bare feet and tattered attire, who was gaz- 
 ing with a look of greedy desire at the delicious 
 mixture. 
 
 Ben handed him the glass and spoon, and stood 
 by, looking at him with some curiosity as he dis- 
 posed of the contents with a look of evident enjoy- 
 ment. 
 
 44 Do you like it ? " he asked. 
 
 44 It's bully," said the young epicure. 
 
 If Ben had not been restricted by his narrow 
 means, he would have purchased another glasi 
 for the urchin. It would have been a very cheap 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 41 
 
 " treat. ; * But our young adventurer reflected that 
 he had lut twenty-two cents left, and prudence 
 forbade. 
 
 " I don't see how he can like the nasty stuff," 
 he thought. 
 
 But the time was to come when Ben himself, grown 
 less fastidious, would be able to relish food quite 
 as uninviting. 
 
 Ben made his way across the Park to Broadway 
 again. He felt that it was high time for him to 
 be seeking employment. His ideas on this sub- 
 ject were not very well defined, but when he left 
 home he made up his mind that he would try to 
 get a place in a store on Broadway. He supposed 
 that, among the great number of stores, there would 
 be a chance for him to get into some one. He ex- 
 pected to make enough to live in a comfortable board- 
 ing-house, and buy his clothes, though he supposed 
 that would be about all. He expected to ha\e to econo- 
 mize on spending money the first year, but the second 
 year his wages would be raised, ana tl* n it would 
 cowe easier. All this shows how very /erdant and 
 
42 BEN) THE LUGGAGE EOT; O/J, 
 
 unpractical our young adventurer was, and what 
 disappointment he was preparing for himself. 
 
 However, Ben's knowledge was to come by experi- 
 ence, and that before long. 
 
 Reaching Broadway, he walked up slowly on the 
 west side, looking in at the shop-windows. In the 
 lower part of this busy street are many wholesale 
 houses, while the upper part is devoted principally to 
 retail shops. Coming to a large warehouse for the 
 sale of ready-made clothing, Ben thought he might 
 as well begin there. In such a large place there 
 must be a good deal to do. 
 
 He passed in and looked about him rather doubt- 
 fully. The counters, which wwe numerous, were 
 filled high with ready-made garments. Ben saw 
 no one as small as himself, and that led him to doubt 
 whether his size might not be an objection. 
 
 '' Well, sonny, what do you want?" asked a clerk. 
 
 " Don't you want to hire a boy?" asked our young 
 adventurer, plunging into his business. 
 
 " I suppose you have had ccu&iderable experience 
 in thfc business ? " said the cki-k inclined to bantei 
 him a little. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 43 
 
 * .No, I haven't," said Ben, frankly. 
 
 " Indeed, I judged from your looks that you were 
 a man of experience." 
 
 ^ If you don't want to hire me, I'll go," said Ben, 
 independently. 
 
 " Well, young man, I'm afraid you'll have to go. 
 The fact is, we should have to higher you before we 
 could hire you ; " and the clerk laughed at his witti- 
 cism. 
 
 Ben naturally saw nothing to laugh at, but felt 
 rather indignant. He stepped into the street, a little 
 depressed at the result of his first application. But 
 then, as he reflected, there were a great many other 
 stores besides this, and he might have better luck 
 next time. He walked on some distance, however, 
 before trying again. Indeed, he had got above 
 Bleecker Street, when his attention was arrested by a 
 paper pasted inside of a shop-window, bearing the 
 Inscription : 
 
 *' CASH-BOYS WANTED." 
 
 Ben did not clearly undei stand what were th 
 duties of a cash-boy, though he supposed they must 
 have something to do with receiving money. Look 
 
44 B*N, THE LUGGAGE EOT; OJZ, 
 
 ing in through the glass door he saw boys as small as 
 himself flitting about, and this gave him courage to 
 enter and make an application for a place. 
 
 He entered, therefore, and walked up boldly to the 
 first clerk he saw. 
 
 " Do you want a cash-boy ? " he asked. 
 
 "Go up to that desk, Johnny," said the clerk, 
 pointing to a desk about midway of the store- A 
 stout gentleman stood behind it, writing something 
 in a large book. 
 
 Ben went up, and repeated his inquiry. " Do you 
 want a cash-boy ? " 
 
 " How old are you?" asked the gentleman lookiDg 
 down at him. 
 
 " Ten years old.*' 
 
 " Have you ever been in a store?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Do you live in the city ? * 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "With your parents?" 
 
 " No, sir," said Ben, with hesitation. 
 
 " Who do you live with, then?" 
 
 " With nobody. I take care of myself," 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 43 
 
 M Humph ! " The gentleman looked a little sur- 
 prised, not at the idea of a boy of ten looking out for 
 himself, for such cases are common enough in New 
 York, but at the idea of such a well-dressed lad as 
 Ben being in that situation. 
 
 "How long have you been your own man?" ht 
 nquired. 
 
 44 I've only just begun," Ben admitted. 
 
 44 Are your parents dead ? " 
 
 44 No, sir ; they're alive." 
 
 44 Then I advise you to go back to them. We don't 
 receive any boys into our employment, who do not 
 live with their parents." 
 
 The gentleman returned to his writing, and Ben 
 saw that his case was hopeless. His disappointment 
 was greater than before, for he liked the looks of the 
 proprietor, if, as he judged, this was he. Besides, 
 boys were wanted, and his size would be no objection, 
 judging from the appearance of the other boys in the 
 store. So he had been sanguine of success. Now he 
 saw that there was an objection which he could not 
 remove, and which would be very likely to stand ip 
 his way in other places. 
 
46 BBN> THE LUGGAGE BOY; JJZ, 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A RESTAURANT ON FULTON STREET. 
 
 BEN kept on his way, looking in at the shop 
 dows as before. He had not yet given up the idea 
 of getting a place in a store, though he began to see 
 that his chances of success were rather small. 
 
 The next pause he came to was before a bookstore. 
 Here, too, there was posted on the window : 
 "BOY WANTED." 
 
 Ben entered. There were two or three persons 
 behind the counter. The oldest, a man of forty, Ben 
 decided to be the proprietor. He walked up to him, 
 and said, " Do you want a boy ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the gentleman. " We want a boy to 
 rm of errands, and deliver papers to customers. 
 How old are you ? " 
 
 * Ten years old." 
 
 " That is rather young." 
 
 " I'm pretty strong of my age," said Ben, speaking 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 47 
 
 tne truth here, for he was rather larger and stoutei 
 than most boys of ten. 
 
 " That is not important, as you will not have very 
 heavy parcels to carry. Are you well acquainted 
 with the streets in this part of the city ? " 
 
 This question was a poser, Ben thought. He waa 
 at first tempted to say yes, but decided to answer 
 trathfully. 
 
 " No, sir," he answered. 
 " Do you live in the lower part of the city ? " 
 " Yes, sir ; that is, I'm going to live there." 
 " How long have you lived in the city ? " 
 "I only arrived this morning," Ben confessed, 
 eluctantly. 
 
 " Then I'm afraid you will not answer my purpose, 
 f^e need a boy who is well acquainted with the city 
 streets." 
 
 He was another disqualification. Ben left the 
 store a little discouraged. He began to think that it 
 would be harder work making a living than he had 
 supposed. He would apply in two or three more 
 stores, and, if unsuccessful, he must sell papers or 
 black boots. Of the two he preferred selling papers. 
 
t8 BEN) THE LUGGAGE BOY; O/J, 
 
 Blacking boots would soil his hands and his clothes* 
 and, as it was possible that he might some day 
 encounter some one from his native village, tie did 
 not like to have the report carried home that he had 
 become a New York boot-black. He felt that his 
 education and bringing up fitted him for something 
 better than that. However, it was not necessary to 
 decide this question until he had got through apply- 
 ing for a situation in a store. 
 
 He tried his luck again, and once was on the point 
 of being engaged at three dollars per week, when a 
 question as to his parents revealed the fact that he 
 was without a guardian, and this decided the ques- 
 tion against him. 
 
 " It's of no use," said Ben, despondently. " I 
 might as well go back." 
 
 So he turned, and retraced his steps down Broad- 
 way. By the time he got to the City Hall Park he 
 was quite tired. Seeing some vacant seats inside, he 
 went in and sat down, resting his bundle on the seat 
 beside him. He saw quite a number of street boys 
 within the inclosure, most of them boot-blacks. A 
 a rule, they bore the marks of their occupation not 
 
1MONG THE WHARVES. 49 
 
 only on their clothes, but on their faces an hands as 
 well. Some, who were a little more careful than 
 the rest, were provided with a small square strip of 
 carpeting, on which they kneeled when engaged in 
 " shining up " a customer's boots. This formed a 
 very good protection for the knees of their pantaloons. 
 Two were even more luxurious, having chairs in 
 which they seated their customers. Where this extra 
 accommodation was supplied, however, a fee of ten 
 cents was demanded, while the boot-blacks in general 
 asked but five. 
 
 " Black your boots?" asked one boy of Ben, observ- 
 ing that our young adventurer's shoes were soiled. 
 "Yes," said Ben, " if you'll do it for nothing." 
 " Fll black your eye for nothing," said the other. 
 " Thank you," said Ben, " I won't trouble you." 
 Ben was rather interested in a scene which he wit- 
 nessed shortly afterwards. A young man, whose 
 appearance indicated that he was from the country, 
 was waylaid by the boys, and finally submitted hi* 
 boots to an operator. 
 " How much do you want? " 
 
 ** Twenty-five cents," was the reply. 
 4 
 
5C BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR* 
 
 " Twenty-five cents!" exclaimed the customer, 
 aghast. "You're jokin', aint you?" 
 
 " Reg'lar price, mister," was the reply. 
 
 " Why, I saw a boy blackin' boots down by the 
 museum for ten cents." 
 
 " Maybe you did ; but this is the City Hall Park. 
 We're employed by the city, and we have to charge 
 the reg'lar price." 
 
 " I wish I'd got my boots blacked down to the 
 museum," said the victim, in a tone of disappoint- 
 ment, producing twenty-five cents, which was eagerly 
 appropriated by the young extortioner. 
 
 " I say, Tommy, give us a treat, or we'll peach," 
 said one of the boys. 
 
 Tom led the way to the ice-cream vender's estab- 
 lishment, where with reckless extravagance he ordered 
 a penny ice-cream all round for the half-dozen boys 
 in his company, even then making a handsome thing 
 out of the extra pay he had obtained from his rustic 
 patron. 
 
 By this time it was half-past two o'clock. So Ben 
 learned from the City Hall clock. He was getting 
 decidedly hungry. There were apple and cake stands 
 
AMONG THE WBARVES. 51 
 
 just outside the railings, on which he could have re- 
 galed himself cheaply, but his appetite craved some- 
 thing more solid. There was a faint feeling, which 
 nothing but meat could satisfy. 
 
 Ben had no idea how much a plate of meat would 
 cost at a restaurant. He had but twenty-two cents* 
 and whatever he got must come within that limit. 
 Still he hoped that something could be obtained for 
 this sum. 
 
 Where to go, that was the question. 
 
 " Can you tell me a good place to get some din- 
 ner ? " he asked of a boy, standing near him. 
 
 " Down on Nassau Street or Fulton Street," was 
 the reply. 
 
 "Where is Fulton Street?" asked Ben, catching 
 the last name. 
 
 " I'm goin' that way. You can go with me if you 
 want to." 
 
 Ben readily accepted the companionship proffered, 
 and was led past the museum, the site of which, as I 
 have said, is now occupied by the Herald Building. 
 
 Turning down Fulton Street, Ber Boon saw a res- 
 taurant, with bills of fare displayed >utside. 
 
62 BEN* THE LUGGAGE BOY; OK, 
 
 " That's a good place," said his guide. 
 
 " Thank you," said Ben. 
 
 He scanned the bill in advance, ascertaining to his 
 satisfaction that he could obtain a plate of roast beef 
 for fifteen cents, and a cup of coffee for five. This 
 would make but twenty cents, leaving him a balance 
 of two cents. 
 
 He opened the door and entered. 
 
 There was a long table running through the centre 
 ol* the apartment, from the door to the rear. On each 
 side, against the sides of the room, were small tables 
 intended for four persons each. There were but few 
 eating, as the busy time at down-town restaurants 
 usually extends from twelve to half-past one, or two 
 o'clock, and it was now nearly three. 
 
 Ben entered and took a seat at one of the side 
 tables, laying his bundle on a chair beside him. 
 
 A colored waiter came up, and stood awaiting hi* 
 orders. 
 
 " Give me a plate of roast beef," said Ben 
 
 " Yes, sir. Coffee or tea? " 
 
 44 Coffee." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 53 
 
 The waiter went to the lower end of the dining- 
 room, and called out, " Eoast beef." 
 
 After a brief delay, he returned with the article 
 ordered, and a cup of coffee. 
 
 There were two potatoes with the meat, and a small 
 p^ece of bread on the side of the plate. The coffee 
 looked muddy, and not particularly inviting. 
 
 Ben was not accustomed to the ways of restaurants, 
 and supposed that, as in shops, immediate payment 
 was expected. 
 
 " Here's the money twenty cents," he said, pro- 
 ducing the sum named. 
 
 " Pay at the desk as you go out," said the waiter. 
 
 Ben looked up, and then for the first time noticed 
 a man behind a counter in the front part of the 
 room. 
 
 At the same time the waiter produced a green 
 ticket, bearing " 20 cents" printed upon it. 
 
 Ben now addressed himself with a hearty appetite 
 to the dinner. The plate was dingy, and the meat 
 neither very abundant nor very tender. Still it can 
 hardly be expected that for fifteen cents a large 
 plate of sirloin can be furnished. Ben was not m a 
 
54 BE .ar, TJT# z IOOAGE BOY; ojs, 
 
 mood to be critical. At home he would have turned 
 up his nose at such a repast, but hunger is very well 
 adapted to cure one of fastidiousness. He ate rap- 
 idly, and felt that he had seldom eaten anything so 
 good. He was sorry there was no more bread, the 
 supply being exceedingly limited. As for the coffee 
 he was able to drink it, though he did not enjoy it so 
 well. It tasted as if there was not more than a tea- 
 spoonful of milk in the infusion, while the flavor of 
 the beverage differed strangely from the coffee he had 
 been accustomed to get at home. 
 
 " It isn't very good," thought Ben ; and he could 
 not help wishing he had a cup of the good coffee 
 his mother used to make at home. 
 
 " Have anything more? " asked the waiter, comirg 
 up to the table. 
 
 Ben looked over the bill of fare, not that he ex- 
 pected to get anything for the two cents that still re- 
 mained to him, but because he wanted to notice the 
 prices of different articles. His eye, rested rather 
 longingly on " Apple Dumplings/' He was very fond 
 of this dish, and his appetite was so far from being 
 
 isfied that he felt that he could have easily dis- 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 55 
 
 posed of a plate. But the price was ten cents, and 
 of course it was entirely beyond his means. 
 
 " Nothiug more," said he, and rose from his seat. 
 
 He vent up to the counter and settled his bill, and 
 went out again into the street. He felt more com- 
 fortable than he had done, as ono is very apt to feel 
 after a good dinner, and Ben's dinner had been a 
 good one, his appetite making up for any deficiency 
 in the quality. 
 
 Where should he go now ? 
 
 He was still tired, and did not care to wander 
 about the streets. Besides, he had no particular 
 place to go to. He therefore decided to walk back to 
 the City Hall ?'*rk, and sit down on one of the 
 benches. Theie would be something to see, and he 
 was interested in watching the street boys, whose 
 ranks he felt that he should very soon be compelled 
 to join. His prospects did not look particularly 
 bright, as he was not provided with means sufficient 
 to pa} T for another meal. But the time had not yet 
 come to trouble himself about that. When he got 
 hungry again, he would probably realize his positioc 
 a little more keenly 
 
56 jBJBJV, THE LUGGAGE EOT; OJZ, 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A BEER-GARDEN IN THE BOWERY. 
 
 BEN sat down again in his old seat, and occupied 
 himself once more in looking about him. After a 
 while he became sleepy. Besides having taken a con* 
 siderable walk, he had not slept much the night be- 
 fore. As no one occupied the bench but himself, he 
 thought he might as well make himself comfortable. 
 Accordingly he laid his bundle crosswise at one end, 
 and laid back, using it for a pillow. The visor of his 
 cap he brought down over his eyes, so as to shield 
 them from the afternoon sun. The seat was hard, to 
 be sure, but his recumbent position rested him. He 
 did not mean to go to sleep, but gradually the sounds 
 around him became an indistinct hum ; even the noise 
 and bustle of busy Broadway, but a few feet distant, 
 failed to ward off sleep, and in a short time he waa 
 sleeping soundly. 
 
 Of course he could not sleep in so public a plac* 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 57 
 
 without attracting attention. Two ragged boys 
 espied him, and held a low conference together. 
 
 "What's he got in that bundle, Jim, do you 
 think ? " asked one. 
 
 " We'd better look and see." 
 
 They went up to the bench, and touched him, to 
 make sure that he was fast asleep. The touch did 
 not rouse him to consciousness. 
 
 " Just lift up his head, Mike, and I'll take the ban- 
 die," said the larger of the two boys. 
 
 This was done. 
 
 " Now, let him down softly." 
 
 So the bundle was removed, and poor Ben, wander- 
 ing somewhere in the land of dreains, was none the 
 wiser. His head, deprived of its former support, now 
 rested on the hard bench. It was not so comfortable, 
 but he was too tired to awake. So he slept on. 
 
 Meanwhile Jim and Mike opened the bundle. 
 
 " It's a couple of shirts," said Jim. 
 
 " Is that all ? " asked Mike, disappointed. 
 
 " Well, that's better than nothin'." 
 
 " Give me one of 'em " 
 
58 BEX, THIS LVGGAGE BOY / Off, 
 
 4 It y s just about your size. 'Taint big enough 
 for me." 
 
 *' Then give me the two of 'em." 
 
 "What'll you give?" 
 
 "I aint got no stamps. I'll pay you a quarter 
 when I get it." 
 
 " That don't go down," said Jim, whose confidence 
 in his confederate's honesty was not very great. 
 Considering the transaction in which they were now 
 engaged, it is not surprising that there should have 
 been a mutual distrust. Being unable to make any 
 bargain, Jim decided to take his share of the booty 
 round to a second-hand clothes-dealer in Chatham 
 Street. Here, after considerable higgling, he suc- 
 ceeded in selling the shirt for sixteen cents, which 
 was less than his companion had offered. However, 
 it was cash down, and so was ^immediately available, 
 an important consideration in the present state of 
 Jim's finances. " A bird in the hand," as he consid- 
 ered, "was worth two in the bush." 
 
 Jim immediately purchased a cigar with a portion 
 of his dishonest gains, and, procuring a light, walked 
 
AMONG TUB WHARVES. 58 
 
 about in a state of high enjoyment, puffing away as 
 coolly as a man of twice his years. 
 
 Meanwhile Ben continued to sleep, happily uncon- 
 scious of the loss of his entire personal possessions. 
 In his dreams he was at home once more, playing 
 with his school companions. Let him sleep ! He 
 will waken soon enough to the hard realities of a 
 street life, voluntarily undertaken, it is true, but 
 none the less likely to bear heavily upon him. 
 
 He slept a long time. When he awoke it was six 
 o'clock. 
 
 He sat upon his seat, and rubbed his eyes in 
 momentary bewilderment. In his dreams he had been 
 back again to his native village, and he could not at 
 once recall his change of circumstances. But it all 
 came back to him soon enough. He realized with a 
 slight pang that he had a home no longer ; that he 
 was a penniless vagrant, for whom the hospitality of 
 the streets alone was open. He did wish that he 
 could sit down at the plentiful home table, and eat 
 the well-cooked supper which was always provided ; 
 that is, if he could blot out one remembrance : 
 when he thought of the unjust punishment that had 
 
60 BEtf, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 driven him forth, his pride rose, and his determine 
 tion became as stubborn as ever. I do not defend 
 Ben in this. He was clearly wrong. The best of 
 parents may be unintentionally unjust at times, and 
 this is far from affording an adequate excuse for a 
 boy to leave home. But Ben had a great deal of 
 pride, and I am only telling you how he felt. 
 
 Our young adventurer did not at first realize the 
 loss which he had sustained. It was at least five 
 minutes before he thought of his bundle at all. At 
 length, chancing to look at the seat beside him, he 
 missed it. 
 
 "Where can it be, I wonder?" he thought, per- 
 plexed. 
 
 He looked under the bench, thinking that perhaps 
 it had rolled off. But it need not be said that it 
 was not to be seen. 
 
 Ben was rather disturbed. It was all he had 
 brought from home, and constituted his entire earthly 
 possessions. 
 
 " It must have rolled off, and been picked up by 
 BOmebody," he thought ; but the explanation was not 
 
A.MONQ THE WHARVES. 61 
 
 calculated to bring any satisfaction. " I did not 
 think I should fall asleep." 
 
 It occurred to him that some of the boys near by 
 uight have seen it. So he went up to a group of 
 boot-blacks near by, one of whom was Jim, who had 
 actually been concerned in the robbery. The other 
 boys knew nothing of the affair. 
 
 " I say, boys," said Ben, " have you seen anything 
 of my bundle?" 
 
 " What bundle, Johnny?" said Jim, who was now 
 smoking his second cigar. 
 
 41 1 had a small bundle tied up in a newspaper," 
 said Ben. " I put it under my head, and then fell 
 asleep. Now I can't find it." 
 
 14 Do you think we stole it? " said Jim, defiantly. 
 
 " Of course I don't," said Ben ; " but I thought it 
 might have slipped out, and you might have seen 
 somebody pick it up." 
 
 " Haven't seen it, Johnny," said one of the other 
 boys ; t: most likely it's stole." 
 
 " Do you think so ? " asked Ben, anxiously. 
 
 " In course, you might expect it would be.* 
 
 44 1 didn't mean to go to sleep." 
 
62 BEN, THE LUGGAGE LCT; OX* 
 
 "What was there in it ?" 
 
 " There was two shirts.'* 
 
 " You've got a shirt on, aint you?" 
 
 "Yes," said Ben. 
 
 " That's all right, then. What does a feller want 
 of a thousand shirts ? " 
 
 " There's some difference between two shirts and a 
 thousand," said Ben. 
 
 "What's the odds? I haven't got but one shirt. 
 That's all I want. When it is wore out I'll buy a 
 new one." 
 
 "What do you do when it gets dirty?" asked Ben, 
 in some curiosity. 
 
 " Oh, I wash it once in two or three weeks," was 
 the reply. 
 
 This was not exactly in accordance with Ben's 
 ideas of neatness ; but be saw that no satisfaction was 
 likely to be obtained in this quarter, so he walked 
 away rather depressed. It certainly hadn't been a 
 lucky day, this first day in the city. He had been 
 rejected in half-a-dozen stores in his applications for 
 employment, had spent nearly all his money, and 
 been robbed of all his clothing except what he wore 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 63 
 
 Again Ben began to feel an appetite He had 
 eaten his dinner late, but it had consisted of a plate 
 of meat only. His funds being now reduced to two 
 cents, he was obliged to content himself with an 
 apple, which did something towards appeasing his 
 appetite. 
 
 Next Ben began to consider anxiously how he was 
 to pass the night. Having no money to spend for 
 lodging, there seemed nothing to do but to sleep out 
 of doors. It was warm weather, and plenty of street 
 boys did it. But to Ben it would be a new experi- 
 ence, and he regarded it with some dread. He 
 wished he could meet with Jerry Collins, his ac- 
 quaintance of the morning. From him he might 
 obtain some information that would be of service 
 in his present strait. 
 
 Three or four hours must elapse before it would be 
 time to go to bed. Ben hardly knew how or where *x> 
 pass them. He had become tired of the park ; besides, 
 he had got over a part of his fatigue, and felt able to 
 "valk about and explore the city. He turned at a 
 venture up Chatham Street, and was soon interested 
 in the vsights of this peculiar thoroughfare, the 
 
64 BEN, THE LDGGAOE BOY; OJR, 
 
 shops open to the street, with half their stock in 
 trade exposed on the sidewalk, the importunities of 
 the traders, and the appearance of the people whom 
 he met. It seemed very lively and picturesque to 
 Ben, and drew away his attention from his own 
 awkward position. 
 
 He was asked to buy by some of the traders, being 
 promised wonderful bargains ; but his penniless con- 
 dition put him out of the reach of temptation. 
 
 So he wandered on until he came to the Bowery, 
 a broad avenue, wider than Broadway, and lined by 
 shops of a great variety, but of a grade inferior to 
 those of its more aristocratic neighbor. 
 
 Here, also, the goods are liberally displayed on the 
 sidewalk, and are generally labelled with low prices, 
 which tempts many purchasers. The purchaser, how- 
 ever, must look carefully to the quality of the goods 
 which he buys, or he will in many cases find the low 
 price merely a snare and a delusion, and regret that 
 he had not paid more liberally and bought a better 
 article. 
 
 Later in the evening, on his return walk, Ben 
 came to an establishment brilliant with light, from 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 6ft 
 
 which proceeded strains of music. Looking in, he 
 aw that it was filled with small tables, around 
 rbich were seated men, women, and children. 
 They had glasses before them from which they 
 drank. This was a Lager Beer Hall or Garden, 
 an institution transplanted from Germany, and 
 chiefly patronized by those of German birth or 
 extraction. It seemed bright and cheerful, and 
 our young adventurer thought it would be pleas- 
 ant to go in, and spend an hour or two, listening 
 to the music; but he was prevented by the con- 
 sciousness that he had no money to spend, and 
 might be considered an intruder. 
 
 While he was looking in wistfully, he was struck 
 on the back ; and turning, saw, to his surprise, the 
 face of his only acquaintance in New York, Jerry 
 Collins, the boot-black. 
 
 " I am glad to see you," he said, eagerly offering 
 his hand, without considering that Jerry's hand, un 
 washed during the day, was stained with blacking. 
 He felt so glad to meet an acquaintance, however, 
 that he would not have minded this, even if it had 
 
 occurred to him. 
 5 
 
66 BEN, THE LUGGAGE EOT; OR, 
 
 " The same to you," said Jerry. " Are you going 
 vn?" 
 
 " I haven't got any money," said Ben, a little 
 ashamed of the confession. 
 
 " Well, I have, and that'll do just as well." 
 
 He took Ben by the arm, and they passed through 
 a vestibule, and entered the main apartment, which 
 was of large size. On one side, about half way 
 down, was a large instrument some like an organ, 
 from which the music proceeded. The tables were 
 very well filled, Germans largely predominating 
 among the guests. 
 
 " Sit down here," said Jerry. 
 
 They took seats at one of the tables. Opposite 
 was a stout German and his wife, the latter holding 
 a baby. Both had glasses of lager before them, and 
 the baby was also offered a share by its mother ; but, 
 from the contortions of its face, did not appear to 
 relish it. 
 
 " Zwei Glass Lager" said Jerry, to a passing 
 attendant. 
 
 " Can you speak German? " asked Ben, surprised. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 67 
 
 l< Yaw." said Jerry ; " my father was an Irish- 
 man, and my mother was a Dutchman." 
 
 Jerry's German, however, seemed to be limited, as 
 lie made no further attempts to converse in that Ian 
 guage. 
 
 The glasses were brought. Jerry drank his down 
 at a draught, but Ben, who had never before tasted 
 lager, could not at once become reconciled to iU bit* 
 ter taste. 
 
 " Don't you like it? " asked Jerry. 
 
 * Not very much," said Ben. 
 
 " Then I'll finish it for you ;" and he suited tn 
 action to the word. 
 
 Besides the lager a few plain cakes were sold, but 
 nothing more substantial. Evidently the beer was 
 the great attraction. Ben could not help observing, 
 with some surprise, that, though everybody was drink 
 ing, there was not the slightest disturbance, or want 
 of decorum, or drunkenness. The music, which was 
 furnished at intervals, was of very good quality, and 
 was listened to with attention. 
 
 "I was goin' to Tony Pastor's to-aight," said 
 Jerry, " if I hadn't met you." 
 
68 BBN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 " What sort of a place is that?" asked Ben. 
 
 " Oh, it's a bully place lots of fun. You must 
 go there some time." 
 
 * fc I think I will," answered Ben, mentally adding, 
 " if I ever have money enough." 
 
 Here the music struck up, and they stopped to lis- 
 ten to it. When this was over, Jerry proposed to go 
 out. Ben would have been willing to stay longer ; 
 but he saw that his companion did not care so much 
 for the music as himself, and he did not wish to lose 
 sight of him. To be alone in a great city, partic- 
 ularly under Ben's circumstances, is not very pleas- 
 ant, and our young adventurer determined to stick to 
 his new acquaintance, who, though rough in his man- 
 ners, had yet seemed inclined to be friendly, and Ben 
 felt sadly in need of a friend. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES, 69 
 
 CHAPTER VI., 
 
 THE BURNING BALES. 
 
 " WHEHE are you going to sleep to night?" asked 
 Ben, introducing a subject which had given him some 
 anxiety. 
 
 " I dom't know," said Jerry, carelessly. " Til find 
 a place somewhere." 
 
 " I'll go with you, if you'll let me," said Ben. 
 
 u In course I will." 
 
 " I haven* t got any money." 
 
 "What's the odds? They don't charge nothin' 
 at the hotel where I stop." 
 
 " What time do you go to bed?" 
 
 " Most any time. Do you feel sleepy? " 
 
 " Rather. I didn't sleep much last night." 
 
 " Well, we'll go and find a place now. How*d you 
 like sleepin* on cotton-bales ? " 
 
 " I think that would be comfortable." 
 
 ' There's a pile of bales down on the pier, where 
 
70 BEN) THE LUGGAGE BOY, OJZ, 
 
 the New Orleans steamers come in. Maybe we 
 could get a chance there." 
 
 "All right. Where is it?" 
 
 "Pier 8, North River. It'll take us twenty 
 minutes, or maybe half an hour, to go there." 
 
 " Let us go," said Ben. 
 
 He felt relieved at the idea of so comfortable a bed 
 as a cotton-bale, and was anxious to get stowed 
 away for the night. 
 
 The two boys struck across to Broadway, ami 
 followed that street down past Trinity Church, tarn- 
 ing down the first street beyond. Rector Street, 
 notwithstanding its clerical name, is far from an 
 attractive street. Just in the rear of the great church, 
 and extending down to the wharves, is a collection 
 of miserable dwellings, occupied by tenants upon 
 whom the near presence of the sanctuary appears to 
 produce little impression of a salutary character. 
 Ben looked about him in ill-concealed disgust. He 
 neither fancied the neighborhood, nor the people 
 whom he met. But the Island is very narrow just 
 here, and he had not far to walk to West Street, 
 which runs along the edge of Manhattan Island, and 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 71 
 
 is lined with wharves. Jerry, of course, lid not 
 mind the surroundings. He was too well used to 
 them to care. 
 
 They brought out opposite the pier. 
 
 "There it is," said Jerry. 
 
 Ben saw a pile of cotton-bales heaped up on the 
 wharf in front. Just behind them was a gate, and 
 over it the sign of the New Orleans Company. 
 
 44 1 should think somebody would steal the bales," 
 said Ben. " Are they left out here all night? " 
 
 44 There's a watchman round here somewhere," said 
 Jerry. " He stays here all night to guard the bales." 
 
 44 Will he let us sleep here ? " 
 
 44 1 don't know," said Jerry. 44 We'll creep in, 
 when he isn't looking." 
 
 The watchman was sitting down, leaning his back 
 against one of the bales. A short pipe was in his 
 mouth, and he seemed to be enjoying his smoke. 
 This was contrary to orders, for the cotton being 
 combustible might easily catch fire ; but this man, 
 supposing that he would not be detected, indulged 
 bVself in the forbidden luxury. 
 
 Vow creep along softly," said Jerry. 
 
72 BEN, THE LUGGAGE SOT; OR, 
 
 * 
 
 The latter, being barefooted, had an ad\antage 
 over Ben, but our young adventurer crept after him 
 as softly as he could. Jerry found a bale screened 
 from observation by the higher piles on each side, 
 where he thought they could sleep unobserved. 
 Following his lead, Ben stretched himself out upon it. 
 
 The watchman was too busily occupied with his 
 pipe to detect any noise. 
 
 " Aint it comfortable ? " whispered Jerry. 
 
 Al Yes," said Ben, in the same low tone. 
 
 41 1 wouldn't ask for nothin' better," said Jerry. 
 
 Ben was not so sure about that ; but then he had 
 not slept out hundreds of nights, like Jerry, in old 
 wagons, or on door-steps, or wherever else he could j 
 so he had a different standard of comparison. 
 
 He could not immediately go to sleep. He was 
 tired, it was true, but his mind was busy. It waa 
 only twelve hours since he had landed in the city, 
 but it had been an eventful twelve hours. He under- 
 stood his position a little better now, and how much 
 he had undertaken, in boldly leaving home at ten 
 years of age, and taking upon himself the task of 
 earning his living. 
 
AMONG THE WHARTSS. 73 
 
 If he had known what was before him, would he 
 have left home at all? 
 
 Ben was not sure about this. He did own to him- 
 self, however, that he was disappointed. The city 
 had not proved the paradise he had expected. In- 
 stead of finding shopkeepers eager to secure his 
 services, he bad found himself uniformly rejected. 
 He began to suspect that it was rather early to begin 
 the world at ten years of age. Then again, though 
 he was angry with his father, he had no cause of 
 complaint against his mother. She had been uni- 
 formly kind and gentle, and he found it hard to keep 
 back the tears when he thought how she would be 
 distressed at his running away. He had not thought 
 of that in the heat of his first anger, but he thought 
 of it now. How would she feel if she knew where he 
 was at this moment, resting on a cotton-bale, on a 
 city wharf, penniless and without a friend in the 
 great city, except the ragged boy who was already 
 asleep at his side ? She would feel badly, Ben knew 
 that, and he half regretted having been so precipitate 
 in his action. He could remedy it all, and relieve hia 
 mother's heart by going back. But hers Ben's pride 
 
74 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OB, 
 
 came in. To go back would be to acknowledge him- 
 self wrong ; it would be a virtual confession of failure, 
 and, moreover, knowing his father's sternness, he 
 knew that he would be severely punished. Unfortu- 
 nately for Ben, his father had a stern, unforgiving 
 disposition, that never made allowances for the 
 impulses of boyhood. He had never condescended 
 to study his own son, and the method of training he 
 had adopted with him was in some respects very per- 
 nicious. His system hardened, instead of softening, 
 and prejudiced Ben against what was right, madden- 
 ing him with a sense of injustice, and so preventing 
 his being influenced towards good. Of course, all 
 this did not justify Ben in running away from home. 
 The thought of his mother ought to have been suffi- 
 cient to have kept him from any such step. But it 
 was necessary to be stated, in order that my readers 
 might better understand what sort of a boy Ben was. 
 So, in spite of his half relenting, Ben determined 
 that he would not go home at all events. Whatever 
 hardships lay before him in the new life which he had 
 adopted, he resolved to stand them as well as he 
 could. Indeed, however much he might desire to* 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 75 
 
 retiac his steps, he had no money to carry him back, 
 nor could he obtain any unless he should write home 
 for it, and this again would be humiliating. Ben's 
 last thought, then, as he sank to sleep, was, that he 
 would stick to New York, and get his living some- 
 how, even if he had to black boots for a living. 
 
 At the end of an hour, both boys were fast asleep. 
 The watchman, after smoking his pipe, got up, and 
 paced up and down the wharf drowsily. He did not 
 happen to observe the young sleepers. If he had 
 done so, he would undoubtedly have shaken them 
 roughly, and ordered them off. It was rather fortu- 
 nate that neither Ben nor his companion were in the 
 habit of snoring, as this would at once have betrayed 
 their presence, even to the negligent watchman. 
 
 After a while the watchman bethought himself 
 again of his pipe, and, filling the bowl with tobacco, 
 lighted it. Then, with the most culpable careless- 
 ness, he half reclined on one of the bales and " took 
 comfort." Not having prepared himself for the vigils 
 of the night by repose during the day $ he began to 
 feel uncommonly drowsy. The whiffs came less and 
 less frequently, until at last the pipe fell from bis lips, 
 
76 SEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OH, 
 
 and he fell back fast asleep. The burning contents 
 of the pipe fell on the bale, and gradually worked 
 their way down into the interior. Here the mischief 
 soon spread. What followed may easily be im- 
 agined. 
 
 Ben was aroused from his sleep by a confused out* 
 cry. He rubbed his eyes to see what was the matter 
 There was something stifling and suffocating in tho 
 atmosphere, which caused him to choke as he 
 breathed. A* he became more awake, he realized 
 that the cotton-bales, among which he had taken 
 refuge, were on fire. He became alarmed, and shook 
 Jerry energetically. 
 
 " What's up? " said Jerry, drowsily. " I aiat done 
 nothin'. You can't take me up." 
 
 " Jerry, wake up ; the bales are on fire," said Ben. 
 
 " I thought 'twas a eopV" said Jerry, rousing, and 
 at a glance understanding the position of affairs. 
 "Let's get out of this." 
 
 That was not quite so easy. There was fire on 
 all sides, and they must rush through it at some risk. 
 However, it was every moment getting worse, and 
 there was no chance for delay. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 77 
 
 *' Foller me." said Jerry, and he dashed through, 
 closely pursued by Ben. 
 
 By this time quite a crowd of men and boys had 
 gathered around the burning bales. 
 
 When the two boys rushed out, there was a general 
 exclamation of surprise. Then one burly man caught 
 Jerry by the arm, and said, " Here's the young villain 
 that set the bales on fire." 
 
 " Let me alone, will you ? " said Jerry. " Yet 
 grandmother set it on fire, more likely." 
 
 No sooner was Jerry seized, than another man 
 caught hold of Ben, and forcibly detained him. 
 
 " I've got the other," he said. 
 
 " Now, you young rascal, tell me how you did it," 
 said the first. " Was you smokin' ? " 
 
 " No, I wasn't," said Jerry, shortly. " I was 
 eleepin' along of this other boy." 
 
 " What made you come here to sleep? " 
 
 *' 'Cause we hadn't no other bed." 
 
 " Are you sure you wasn't smoking?" 
 
 " Look here," said Jerry, contemptuously, " you 
 must think I'm a fool, to go and set my own bed on 
 fire." 
 
78 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY, OR, 
 
 " That's true," said a bystander. "It wouldn't 
 be very likely." 
 
 "Who did it, then?" asked the stout man, sus- 
 piciously. 
 
 " It's the watchman. I seed him smokin* when I 
 turned in/* 
 
 "Where is he now?" 
 
 Search was made for the watchman, but he bad 
 disappeared. Awaking to a consciousness of what 
 mischief he had caused through his carelessness, he 
 had slipped away in the confusion, and was not 
 likely to return. 
 
 "The boy tells the truth," said one of the crowd. 
 "I saw the watchman smoking myself. No doubt 
 the fire caught from his pipe. The boys are innocent, 
 Better let them go." 
 
 The two custodians of Jerry and Ben released their 
 hold, and they gladly availed themselves of the op- 
 portunity to remove themselves to a safer distance 
 from their late bedchamber. 
 
 Two fire-engines came thundering up, and streams 
 of water were directed effectively at the burning 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES* 79 
 
 bales. The flames were extinguished, but not till 
 considerable damage had been done. 
 
 As the two boys watched the contest between the 
 flames and the engines, from a safe distance, they 
 heard the sonorous clang of the bell in the church* 
 tower, ringing out twelve o'clock. 
 
80 JJUIT, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OS, 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 BEN'S TEMPTATION. 
 
 "JEST my luck!" complained Jerry. "Why 
 couldn't the fire have waited till mornin' ? " 
 
 " We might have burned up," said Ben, who wa 
 considerably impressed by his narrow escape. 
 
 " Only we didn't," said Jerry. " We'll have to try 
 another hotel for the rest of the night." 
 
 "Where shall we go?" 
 
 " We may find a hay-barge down to the pier at the 
 foot of Franklin Street." 
 
 "Is it far?" 
 
 " Not very." 
 
 " Let us go then." 
 
 So the boys walked along the street until they 
 came to the pier referred to. There was a barge 
 loaded with hay, lying alongside the wharf. Jerry 
 speedily provided himself with a resting-place upon 
 it, and Ben followed his example. It proved to be 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 81 
 
 quite as comfortable, if not more so, than their for- 
 mer bed, and both boys were soon asleep. How long 
 he slept Ben did not know, but he was roused to con- 
 sciousness by a rude shake. 
 
 u Wake up there ! " said a voice. 
 
 Ben opened his eyes, and saw a laboring man 
 bending over him. 
 
 "Is it time to get up?" he inquired, hardly con- 
 scious where he was. 
 
 " I should think it was, particularly as you haven't 
 paid for your lodging." 
 
 "Where's Jerry?" asked Ben, missing the boot- 
 black. 
 
 The fact was, that Jerry, whose business required 
 him to be astir early, had been gone over an hour. 
 He had not felt it necessary to wake up Ben, know- 
 ing that the latter had nothing in particular to call 
 him up. 
 
 " I don't know anything about Jerry. You'd 
 better be going home, young 'un. Take my advice, 
 and don't stay out another night." 
 
 He evidently thought that Ben was a truant from 
 
 
 
62 BEN) THE LUGGAGE BOY,' O/Z, 
 
 home, as his dress would hardly class him among the 
 homeless boys who slept out from necessity. 
 
 Ben scrambled upon the pier, and took a cross 
 street up towards Broadway. He had slept off his 
 fatigue, and the natural appetite of a healthy boy 
 began to assert itself. It was rather uncomfortable 
 to reflect that he was penniless, and had no means 
 of buying a breakfast. He had meant to ask Jerry's 
 advice, as to some occupation by which he could 
 earn a little money, and felt disappointed that his 
 companion had gone away before he waked up. His 
 appetite was the greater because he had been limited 
 to a single apple for supper. 
 
 Where to go he did not know. One place was as 
 good as another. It was a strange sensation to Ben 
 to feel the cravings of appetite, with nothing to 
 satisfy it. All his life he had been accustomed to a 
 good home, where his wants were plentifully provided 
 for. He had never had any anxiety about the supply 
 of his daily wants. In the city there were hundreds 
 of boys younger than he, who, rising in the morning, 
 knew not where their meals were to come 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 8$ 
 
 or whether they were to have any ; but this had never 
 been his case. 
 
 " I am young and strong," thought Ben.- u Why 
 can't 1 find something to do? " 
 
 His greatest anxiety was to work, and earn hit 
 living somehow; but how did not seem clear. 
 Even if he were willing to turn boot-black, he had 
 no box nor brush, and had some doubts whether 
 he should at first possess the requisite skill. Selling 
 papers struck him more favorably ; but here again the 
 want of capital would be an objection 
 
 So, in a very perplexed frame of mind, our young 
 adventurer went on his way, and after a while caught 
 sight of the upper end of the City Hall Park. Here 
 he felt himself at home, and, entering, looked among 
 the dozens of boys who were plying their work to 
 see if he could not find his acquaintance Jerry. But 
 here he was unsuccessful. Jerry's business stand 
 was near the Cortlandt Street pier. 
 
 Hour after hour passed, and Ben became more and 
 more hungry and dispirited. He felt thoroughly 
 helpless. There seemed to be nothing that he conic 
 do. He began to be faint, and his head ached On 
 
84 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OK, 
 
 o'clock found him on Nassau Street, near the coruei 
 of Fulton. There was a stand for the sale of cakes 
 and 'pies located here, presided over by an old 
 woman, of somewhat ample dimensions. This stall 
 had a fascination for poor Ben. He had such a 
 craving for food that he could not take his eyes off 
 the tempting pile of cakes which were heaped up 
 before him. It seemed to him that he should be per- 
 fectly happy if he could be permitted to eat all 
 he wanted of them. 
 
 Ben knew that it was wrong to steal. He had 
 never in his life taken what did not belong to him, 
 which is more than many boys can say, who have 
 been brought up even more comfortably than he. 
 But the temptation now was very strong. He knew it 
 was not right ; but he was not without excuse. Watch- 
 ing his opportunity, he put his hand out quickly, and, 
 seizing a couple of pies, stowed them away hastily 
 in his pocket, and was about moving off to eat them 
 in some place where he would not be observed. But 
 though the owner of the stolen articles had not 
 observed the theft, there was a boy hanging about 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 83 
 
 the stall, possibly with the same object in new, who 
 did see it. 
 
 " He's got some of your pies, old lady," said She 
 voung detective. 
 
 The old woman looked round, and though the pies 
 were in Ben's pocket there was a telltale in his face 
 which betrayed him. 
 
 " Put back them pies, you young thafe I " said the 
 angry pie-merchant. " Aint you ashamed of yerself 
 to rob a poor widdy, that has hard work to support 
 herself and her childers, you that's dressed like a 
 gentleman, and ought to know better ? " 
 
 " Give it to him, old lady," said the hard-hearted 
 young vagabond, who had exposed Ben's iniquity. 
 
 As for Ben, he had not a word to say. In spite of 
 his hunger, he was overwhelmed with confusion at 
 having actually attempted to steal, and been caught 
 in the act. He was by no means a model boy ; but 
 apart from anything which he had been taught in the 
 Sunday school, he considered stealing mean and dis- 
 creditable, and yet he had been led into it. What 
 would his friends at home think* of it, if they should 
 ever hear of it? So, as T said, *ie stood without a 
 
#6 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; O-R, 
 
 word to say in his defence, mechanically replacing 
 the pies on the stall. 
 
 u I say, old lady, you'd orter give me a pie for 
 tellin' you," said the informer. 
 
 " You'd have done the same, you young imp, if 
 you'd had the chance," answered the pie-vender, with 
 more truth than gratitude. " Clear out, the whole on 
 ye. Fve had trouble enough with ye." 
 
 Ben moved off, thankful to get off so well. He 
 had feared that he might be handed over to the police, 
 and this would have been the crowning disgrace. 
 
 But the old woman seemed satisfied with the resto- 
 ration of her property, and the expression of her 
 indignation. The attempt upon her stock she 
 regarded with very little surprise, having suffered 
 more than once before in a similar way. 
 
 But there was another spectator of the scene, whose 
 attention had been drawn to the neat attire and 
 respectable appearance of Ben. He saw that he dif- 
 fered considerably from the ordinary run of street 
 boys. He noticed also the flush on the boy's cheek 
 when he was detected, and judged that this was his 
 first offence. Something out of the common way 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 87 
 
 mast have driven him to the act. He felt impelled 
 to follow Ben, and learn what that something was. 
 I may as well state here that he was a } r oung man of 
 twenty-five or thereabouts, a reporter on one or more 
 of the great morning papers. He, like Ben, had come 
 to the city in search of employment, and before he 
 secured it had suffered more hardships and privations 
 than he liked to remember. He was now earning a 
 modest income, sufficient to provide for his wants, 
 and leave a surplus over. He had seen much of 
 suffering and much of crime in his daily walks about 
 the city, but his heart had not become hardened, nor 
 his sympathies blunted. He gave more in proportion 
 to his means than many rich men who have a repu- 
 tation for benevolence. 
 
 Ben had walked but a few steps, when be felt a 
 hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 Looking round hastily, .he met the gaze of the 
 young man. He had thought at first it might be a 
 policeman, and he felt relieved when he saw his mis 
 take. 
 
 " You are the boy who just now took a couple of 
 pies from a stall ? " said the reporter. 
 
<88 BEN, THB LUGGAGE BOY; OR* 
 
 44 Yes," said Ben, hesitatingly, his face crimsoning 
 as he spoke. 
 
 " Do you mind telling me why you did so?" 
 
 There was something in his tone which reassured 
 Ben, and he determined to tell the truth frankly. 
 
 "I have eaten nothing to-day," he said. 
 
 "You never took anything before?" 
 
 " No," said Ben, quickly. 
 
 " I suppose you had no money to buy with?" 
 
 " No, I had not." 
 
 " How does it happen that a boy as well dreowd 
 as you are, are in such a position ? " 
 
 44 I would rather not tell," said Ben. 
 
 44 Have you run away from home? " 
 
 44 Yes ; I had a good reason," he added, quickly. 
 
 44 What do you propose to do? You must earn 
 your living in some way, or starve." 
 
 " I thought I might get a place in a store ; but I 
 have tried half a dozen, and they won't take me." 
 
 44 No, your chance will be small, unless you can 
 bring good references. But you must be hungry." 
 
 " I am," Ben admitted. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 
 
 " That can be remedied, at all events. I am just 
 going to get some dinner ; will you go with me ? " 
 
 " I have no money." 
 
 " I have, and that will answer the purpose for this 
 time. We will go back to Fulton Street." 
 
 Ben turned back thankfully, and with his comp*,, 
 ion entered the very restaurant in which he had 
 dined the day before. 
 
 " If you are faint, soup will be the best thing for 
 you to begin on," said the young man ; and he gave 
 an order to the waiter. 
 
 Nothing had ever seemed more delicious to Ben 
 than that soup. When he had done justice to it, a 
 plate of beefsteak awaited him, which also received 
 his attention. Then he was asked to select some 
 dessert. 
 
 " I am afraid you are spending too much for me," 
 ^e said. 
 
 " Don't be afraid of that ; I am glad that you have 
 a good appetite." 
 
 At length the dinner was over. Ben felt decidedly 
 better. His despondency had vanished, and the 
 world again seemed bright to him. It is hard to 
 
BEN, THE LUGQAGB BOY; OJJ, 
 
 be cheerful, or take bright views of life on an empty 
 stomach, as many have learned beside our young 
 adventurer. 
 
 kt Now," said his new-found friend, " I have a few 
 minutes to spare. Suppose we talk over your plans 
 and prospects, and see if we can find anything for 
 you to do." 
 
 " Thank you," said Ben ; " I wish you would giye 
 me your advice." 
 
 " My advice is that you return to your home, if 
 you have one," said the reporter. 
 
 Ben shook his head. 
 
 " I don't want to do that," he answered, 
 
 " I don't, of course, know what is your objection to 
 this, which seems to me the best course. Putting it 
 aside, however, we will consider what you can do 
 here to earn your living." 
 
 " That is what I want to do." 
 
 " How would you like selling papers?" 
 
 *' 1 think I should like it," said Ben ; " but I have 
 no money to buy any." 
 
 * It doesn't require a very large capital. I will lend 
 you* or give you, the small amount which will bo 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 91 
 
 necessary. However, you mustn't expect to make a 
 very large income." 
 
 " If I can make enough to live on, I won't care," 
 said Ben. 
 
 He had at first aimed higher ; but his short resi- 
 dence in the city taught him that he would be for- 
 tunate to meet his expenses. There are a good many 
 besides Ben who have found their early expectation* 
 of success considerably modified by experience. 
 
 " Let me see. It is half-past one o'clock," said 
 the reporter, drawing out his watch. " You had bet- 
 ter lay in a supply of ' Expresses ' and 4 Evening Posts,' 
 and take a good stand somewhere, and do your best 
 with them. As you are inexperienced in the business 
 it will be well to take a small supply at first, or you 
 might get * stuck.' " 
 
 -That's so." 
 
 " You must not lay in more than you can sell." 
 
 " Where can I get the papers ? " 
 
 " I will go with you to the newspaper offices, and 
 buy you half a dozen of each. If you succeed in sell- 
 ing them, you can buy more. To-morrow you can 
 lay in some of the morning papers, the * Herald, 
 
92 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OA, 
 
 4 World/ 4 Tribune/ or Times/ It will be well also 
 to have a few ' Suns ' for those who do not care to 
 pay for the higher-priced papers." 
 
 " Thank you," said Ben, who was eager to begin 
 his business career. 
 
 Tney rose from the table, and set out for the 
 offices of the two evening papers whose 
 have been mentioned. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 93 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BEN COMMENCES HIS BUSINESS CAREER. 
 
 x 
 
 BEN soon took his stand in the street, with a roll 
 of papers under his arm, supplied by the generosity 
 >f his new acquaintance. It was rather a trying 
 ordeal for a country boy, new to the city and its 
 ways. But Ben was not bashful. He was not a 
 timid boy, but was fully able to push his way. So, 
 glancing at the telegraphic headings, he began to call 
 out the news in a business-like way. He had already 
 taken notice of how the other newsboys acted, and 
 therefore was at no loss how to proceed. 
 
 He met with very fair success, selling out the 
 twelve papers which had been bought for him, in a 
 comparatively short time. It might have been that 
 the fact that he was neater and better dressed operated 
 in his favor. At any rate, though a new hand, he suc- 
 ceeded better than those who were older in the busi- 
 ness. 
 
9* BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 liut his neat dress operated to his disadvantage ia 
 another quarter. His business rivals, who were, with 
 scarcely an exception, dressed with no great preten- 
 sions to style or neatness, looked upon the interloper 
 with a jealous eye. They regarded him as " stuck 
 up," in virtue of his superior dress, and were indig- 
 nant to find their sales affected by his competition. 
 
 "Who's he? Ever seen him afore? "asked Tim 
 Banks of a newsboy at his side. 
 
 " No ; he's a new chap." 
 
 " What business has he got to come here and 
 steal away our trade, I'd like to know ? " continued 
 Tim, eying Ben with no friendly glance. 
 
 At that moment a gentleman, passing Tim, bought 
 an " Evening Post" of Ben. It was the third paper 
 that Ben had sold since Tim had effected a sale. 
 This naturally increased his indignation. 
 
 " He's puttin' on airs just because he's got good 
 clo'es," said the other newsboy, who shared Tim's 
 feelings on the subject. 
 
 " Let's shove him out," suggested Tim. 
 
 "All right." 
 
 Tim, who was a boy of twelve, with a shock head, 
 
AMONO THE WHARVES. 95 
 
 which looked as if it had never been combed, and a 
 suit of clothes which bore the marks of severe usage, 
 advanced to Ben, closely followed by his confederate, 
 who had agreed to back him. 
 
 Ben had just sold his last paper when the two 
 approached him. He did not understand their object 
 until Tim, swaggering up to him, said offensively, 
 " You'd better clear out ; you aint wanted here." 
 
 Ben turned and faced his ragged opponent with 
 intrepidity. 
 
 " Why aint I wanted here ? " he inquired, without 
 manifesting the least symptom of alarm. 
 
 Tim rather anticipated that Ben would show the 
 white feather, and was a little surprised at his calm 
 ness. 
 
 " Cause yer aint, that's why," he answered. 
 
 " If you don't like my company, you can go some- 
 where else," said Ben. 
 
 " This is my place," said Tim. " You aint got no 
 right to push in." 
 
 " If it's your place, how much did you pay for 
 it?" asked Ben. " I thought that the sidewalk waft 
 free to all." 
 
96 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; o*, 
 
 44 You aint got no right to interfere with my busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " I didn't know that I had interfered with it." 
 
 44 Well, you have. I aint sold more'n half as 
 many papers since you've been here." 
 
 " You've got the same chance as I have," said 
 Ben. " I didn't tell them not to buy of you." 
 
 "Well, you aint wanted here, and you'd better 
 make tracks," said Tim, who considered this the best 
 argument of all. 
 
 44 Suppose I don't," said Ben. 
 
 44 Then I'll give you a lickin'." 
 
 Ben surveyed the boy who uttered this threat, in 
 the same manner that a general would examine an 
 opposing force, with a view to ascertain his strength 
 and ability to cope with him. It was clear that Tim 
 was taller than himself, and doubtless older. As to 
 being stronger, Ben did not feel so positive. He was 
 himself well and compactly made, and strong of his 
 age. He did not relish the idea of being imposed 
 upon, and prepared to resist any encroachment upon 
 his rights. He did not believe that Tim had any 
 right to order him off. He felt that the sidewalk was 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 97 
 
 jusfc as free to him as to any other boy, and he made 
 up his mind to assert and maintain his right. 
 
 " If you want to give me a licking, just try it," 
 he said. " I've got just as much right to stand here 
 and sell papers as you have, and I'm going to do it." 
 
 " You needn't be so stuck up jest because you've 
 got good clo'es on." 
 
 "If they are good, I can't help it." said Ben. 
 " They're all I have, and they won't be good long." 
 
 " Maybe I could get good clo'es if I'd steal em," 
 *id Tim. 
 
 " Do you mean to say I stole these? " retorted Ben, 
 angrily. He had no sooner said it, however, than he 
 thought of the pies which he should have stolen if he 
 had not been detected, and his face flushed. Luck- 
 ily Tim did not know why his words produced an 
 effect upon Ben, or he would have followed up his 
 attack. 
 
 " Yes, I do," said Tim. 
 
 "Then you judge me by yourself," said Ben* 
 that's all I've got to say." 
 
 " Say that ag*in," said Tim, menacingly. 
 7 
 
> THE LU3GAGE BOY; ttB, 
 
 " So I will, if you want to hear it. You judge me 
 by yourself." 
 
 " I'll give you a lickin'." 
 
 " You've said that before." 
 
 Tim was not particularly brave. Still Ben was a 
 smaller boy, and besides he had a friend at hand to 
 back him, so he concluded that it would be safe to ven- 
 ture. Doubling up a dirty fist, he struck out, intend- 
 ing to hit Ben in the face ; but our young adventurer 
 was on his guard, and fended off the blow with his 
 arms. 
 
 " Will yer go now?" demanded Tim, pausing after 
 his attack. 
 
 "Why should I?" 
 
 " If you don't I'll give you another lick." 
 
 " I can stand it, if it isn't any worse than that." 
 
 Tim was spurred by this to renew the assault- 
 He tried to throw his arms around Ben, and lift him 
 from the ground, which would enable him to throw 
 him with greater ease. But Ben was wary, and 
 experienced in this mode of warfare, having often 
 had scuffles in fun with his school-fellows. He 
 evaded Tim's grasp, therefore, and dealt him a blow 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 93 
 
 IB tLc breast, which made Tim stagger back. He 
 began to realize that Ben, though a smaller boy, was 
 a formidable opponent, and regretted that he had 
 undertaken a contest with him. He was constrained 
 to appeal to his companion for assistance. 
 
 " Just lend a hand, Jack, and we'll give it to him." 
 
 " So you have to ask help," said Ben, scornfully, 
 " though you're bigger than I am." 
 
 " I could lick yer well enough alone," said Tim, 
 " but you've been interferin* with Jack's business, aa 
 well as mine." 
 
 Jack responded to his friend's appeal, and the two 
 advanced to the assault of Ben. Of course all this 
 took place much more quickly than it has taken to 
 describe it. The contest commenced, and our young 
 adventurer would have got the worst of it, if help 
 had not arrived. Though a match for either of the 
 boys singly, he could not be expected to cope with 
 both at a time, especially as he was smaller than 
 either. 
 
 Tim found himself seized forcibly by the arm, just 
 as he was about to level a blow at Ben. Looking up, 
 he met the glance of another newsboy, a boy of four 
 
tOO BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OJt, 
 
 teen, who was known among his comrades as " Rough 
 and Heady/' This boy was stout and strong, and 
 was generally liked by those of his class for his gen- 
 erous qualities, as well as respected for his physical 
 strength, which he was always ready to exert in 
 defence of a weaker boy. 
 
 " What's all this, Tim? " he demanded. " Aint you 
 Ashamed, the two of you, to pitch into a smaller 
 boy?" 
 
 " He aint got no business here," said Tim, doggedly. 
 
 " Why not? " 
 
 " He's takin* away all our trade." 
 
 "Hasn't he just as much right to sell papers aa 
 you?" 
 
 " He can go somewhere else." 
 
 " So can you." 
 
 " He's a new boy. This is the first day he's sold 
 papers." 
 
 " Then you ought to be able to keep up with him. 
 What's your name, young un ? " 
 
 This question, was of course, addressed to Ben. 
 
 "Ben," answered our young hero. He did not 
 think it necessary to mention his other name, espe- 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 101 
 
 cially as, having run away from home, he had a vague 
 idea that it might lead to his discovery. 
 
 " Well, Ben, go ahead and sell your papers. I'll 
 see that you have fair play." 
 
 " Thank you," said Ben. " I'm not afraid of either 
 of them." 
 
 " Both of them might be too much for you." 
 "I don't want to interfere with their business. 
 They've got just as good a chance to sell as I 
 have." 
 
 u Of course they have. Is this your first day?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " How many papers have you sold ? " 
 
 " Six ' Posts ' and six Expresses.' " 
 
 " That's pretty good for a beginning. Are you 
 going to get some more ? " 
 
 " "Yes, I was just going into the office when that 
 boy," pointing to Tim, " tried to drive me off." 
 
 " He won't do it again. Come in with me. I'm 
 going to buy some papers too." 
 
 " What's your name ? " asked Ben. " I like yon \ 
 you're not mean, like those fellows." 
 
102 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 ' t My name is Rufus, but the boys call me Rough 
 and Ready." 
 
 u Where do you live, at the Newsboys* Lodging 
 House?" 
 
 " No, I live in Leonard Street. I've got a mother 
 and a little sister. I live with them." 
 
 " Have you got a father? " 
 
 " No, that is, not a real father. I've got a step- 
 father ; but he's worse than none, for he is loafing 
 round most of the time, and spends all the money he 
 can get on drink. If it wasn't for me, he'd treat 
 mother worse than he does. How long have you 
 been in New York?" 
 
 " Only a day or two," said Ben. 
 
 " Where are you living? " 
 
 " Anywhere I can. I haven't got any place." 
 
 " Where did you sleep last night ? " 
 
 " In a hay-barge, at one of the piers, along with a 
 !x>ot-black named Jerry. That was the first night I 
 ver slept out." 
 
 4 How did you like it?" 
 
 " I think I'd prefer a bed," said Ben. 
 ' You can get one at the Lodge for six cents." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 103 
 
 " 1 didn't have six cents last night." 
 
 " They'll trust you there, and you can pay next 
 time." 
 
 u Where is the Lodging House?" 
 
 " It's on the corner of this street and Fulton," said 
 Rough and Beady. " I'll show it to you, if you 
 want ine too." 
 
 "I'd like to have you. I'd rather pay six cents 
 than sleep out again." 
 
 By this time they reached the office of the " Ex- 
 press," and, entering, purchased a supply of papers. 
 He was about to invest his whole capital, but, by the 
 advice of his companion, bought only eight copies, as 
 by the time these were disposed of a later edition 
 would be out, which of course would be more salable. 
 
104 BEN> THE LUGGAGE BOY; OJ8, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SCENES AT THE NEWSBOYS LODGING HOUSE. 
 
 IT will be unnecessary to give in detail the record 
 of Ben's sales. He succeeded, because he was in 
 earnest, and he was in earnest, because his own ex- 
 perience in the early part of the day had revealed to 
 him how uncomfortable it was to be without money 
 or friends in a large city. At seven o'clock, on 
 counting over his money, he found that he had a dol- 
 lar and twelve cents. Of this sum he had received 
 half a dollar from the friendly reporter, to start him 
 in business. This left sixty-two cents as his net 
 profits for the afternoon's work. Ben felt proud of 
 it, for it was the first money he had ever earned. 
 His confidence came back to him, and he thought he 
 saw his way clear to earning his own living. 
 
 Although the reporter had not exacted repayment, 
 Ben determined to lay aside fifty cents for that pur- 
 pose. Of the remaining sixty-two, a part must be 
 
AMONG THE W&AR7ES. 105 
 
 saved as a fund for the purchase of papers the next 
 morning. Probably thirty cents would be sufficient 
 for this, as, after selling out those first purchased, he 
 would have money for a new supply. This would 
 leave him thirty-two cents to pay for his supper, 
 lodging, and breakfast. Ben would not have seen his 
 way to accomplish all this for so small a sum, if he 
 had not been told that at the Newsboys' Lodge the 
 regular charge was six cents for each meal, and the 
 same for lodging. This would make but eighteen 
 cents, leaving him a surplus of fourteen. On inquiry, 
 however, he ascertained that it was already past the 
 hour for supper at the Lodge, and therefore went 
 into the restaurant, on Fulton Street, where he 
 ordered a cup of coffee, and a plate of tea-biscuit. 
 These cost ten cents. Finding his appetite still un- 
 satisfied, he ordered another plate of biscuit, which 
 carried up the expense of his supper to fifteen cents. 
 This left seventeen cents for lodging and breakfast. 
 
 After supper, he went out into the street once 
 more, and walked about for some time, until he began 
 to feel tired, when he turned his steps towards the 
 Newsboys' Lodge. This institution occupied at that 
 
106 BEN) THE LUGGAGE BOY; (XR, 
 
 time the two upper stories of the building at the cor 
 ner of Nassau and Fulton Streets. On the first floor 
 was the office of the " Daily Sun." The entrance to 
 the Lodge was on Fulton Street. Ben went up a 
 steep and narrow staircase, and kept mounting up 
 until he reached the sixth floor. Here to the left he 
 saw a door partially opened, through which he couU! 
 see a considerable number of boys, whose appearance 
 indicated that they belonged to the class known as 
 street boys. He pushed the door open and entered. 
 He found himself in a spacious, but low-studded 
 apartment, abundantly lighted by rows of windows 
 on two sides. At the end nearest the door was a 
 raised platform, on which stood a small melodeon, 
 which was used at the Sunday-evening meetings. 
 There were rows of benches in the centre of the 
 apartment for the boys. 
 
 A stout, pleasant-looking man, who proved to be 
 Mr. O'Connor, the superintendent, advanced to meet 
 Ben, whom he at once recognized as a new-comer. 
 
 "Is this the Newsboys' Lodge?" asked Ben. 
 
 " Yes," said the superintendent ; " do you wish to 
 r"v with us?" 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 107 
 
 " I should like to sleep here to-night," said Ben. 
 
 " You are quite welcome." 
 
 " How much do you charge? " 
 
 44 Our charge is six cents." 
 
 " Here is the money," said Ben, drawing it from 
 4is vest-pocket. 
 
 " What is your name ? H 
 
 " Benjamin." 
 
 M And your other name?" 
 
 " Brandon," answered Ben, with some hesitation. 
 
 " What do you do for a living? " 
 
 " I am selling papers." 
 
 " Well, we will assign you a bed." 
 
 " Where are the beds? " asked Ben, looking about 
 Turn. 
 
 11 They are on the floor below. Any of the boyt 
 will go down and show you when you get ready to 
 retire." 
 
 " Can I get breakfast here in the morning ? " 
 inquired Ben. 
 
 " Certainly. We charge the same as for Iddg- 
 ing." 
 
 Ben handed over six cents additional, and congrafe 
 
108 BEN, THK LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 ulated himself that he was not as badly off as the 
 night before, being sure of a comfortable bed, and a 
 breakfast in the morning. 
 
 "What are those for? "he asked, pointing to a 
 row of drawers or lockers on the sides of the apart- 
 ment near the floor. 
 
 "Boys who have any extra clothing, or any 
 articles which they value, are allowed to use them. 
 Here they are safe, as they can be locked. "We will 
 assign you one if you wish." 
 
 " I have nothing to put away," said Ben. " I had a 
 little bundle of clothes ; but they were stolen from me 
 while I was lying asleep on a bench in the City Hall 
 Park." 
 
 "I suppose you don't know who took them?" 
 
 " No," said Ben ; " but I think it was some of the 
 boys that were blacking boots near me. That boy's 
 got one of them on," he said, suddenly, in an excited 
 tone, pointing out Mike, the younger of the two 
 boys who had appropriated his bundle. Mike had 
 ,ocked up his own shirt, which was considerably the 
 worse for wear, and put on Ben's, which gave him a 
 decidedly neater appearance than before. He had 
 
AMONG THS WHARVES. 109 
 
 ^bought himself perfectly safe in doing so, not dream- 
 ing that he would be brought face to face with the 
 true owner in the Lodge. 
 
 " What makes you think it is yours?" asked Mr. 
 O'Connor. 
 
 u It is cut like mine," said Ben. " Besides I remem- 
 ber getting a large spot of ink on one of the sleeves, 
 which would not wash out. There it is, on the left 
 arm." 
 
 As Ben had said, there was a faint bluish spot on 
 the sleeve of the shirt. This made Ben's story a plau- 
 sible one, though not conclusive. The superinten- 
 dent decided to inquire of Mike about the matter, 
 and see what explanation he could give. 
 
 " Mike Rafferty," he said, in a tone of authority, 
 ' come here ; I want you." 
 
 Mike came forward, but when he saw Ben, whom 
 be recognized, he felt a little taken aback. But he 
 had not been brought up in the streets for nothing 
 His embarrassment was only momentary. He deter- 
 mined to brazen it out, and swear, if anything was 
 said about the shirt, that it was his own lawful prop- 
 erty. 
 
110 BEN, THE LUOQAOB BOY; OB, 
 
 " I see you've got a new shirt on, Mike," said Mr. 
 O'Connor. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Mike. 
 
 Where did you get it?" 
 
 " Where would I get it ? " said Mike. " I bought it 
 yesterday." 
 
 " Where did you buy it? ' 
 
 " Bound in Baxter Street," said Mike, confidently* 
 
 " It is a pretty good shirt for Baxter Street," 
 remarked Mr. O'Connor. " How much did you pay 
 for it?" 
 
 " Fifty cents," answered Mike, glibly. 
 
 " This may all be true, Mike," said the superin- 
 tendent ; " but I am not certain about it. This boy 
 here says it is his shirt, and he thinks that you stole 
 it from him while he was lying asleep in City Hall 
 Park yesterday." 
 
 " It's a lie he's tellin', sir," said Mike. " I never 
 seed nim afore." 
 
 Here seemed to be a conflict of evidence. Of the 
 two Ben seemed the more likely to tell the truth. 
 Still it was possible that he might be mistaken, and 
 Mike might be right after all. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. Ill 
 
 " Have you any other proof that the shirt is yours ? " 
 asked Mr. O'Connor, turning to Ben. 
 
 " Yes," said Ben, " my name is marked on the 
 fihirt, just below the waist." 
 
 "We can settle the matter quickly then. Mike, 
 pull out the shirt, so that we can see it." 
 
 Mike made some objection, which was quickly 
 overruled. The shirt, being examined, bore the name 
 of " Benj. Brandon," just as Ben had said. 
 
 " The shirt is yours," said the superintendent to 
 Ben. 
 
 " Now, Mike, what did you mean by telling me 
 that lie ? It was bad enough to steal, without adding 
 a lie besides." 
 
 " I bought the shirt in Baxter Street," persisted 
 Mike, unblushingly. 
 
 " Then how do you account for his name on it? M 
 
 " Maybe he sold it to the man I bought it of." 
 
 " I didn't sell it at all," said Ben. 
 
 " Was that all you had taken ? " 
 
 "No," said Ben. "There was another shirt 
 besides." 
 
 14 Do you know anything about it, Mike ? " 
 
112 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOJT j OA, 
 
 " No, I don't," said Mike. 
 
 " I don't know whether you are telling the truth or 
 not," said the superintendent ; " but at any rate you 
 must take this off, and give it to the right owner." 
 
 " And will he pay me the fifty cents ? " asked 
 Mike. 
 
 " I don't think you bought it at all ; but if you did, 
 you can prove it by the man you bought it of. If you 
 can do that, I will see that the money is refunded to 
 you." 
 
 There was one strong reason for discrediting 
 Mike's story. These Baxter-Street shops are often 
 the receptacles of stolen goods. As their identifi- 
 cation might bring the dealers into trouble, they are 
 very careful, as soon -as an article comes into their 
 possession, to obliterate all the marks of former own- 
 ership. It was hardly likely that they would suffer 
 a shirt to go out of their Lands so plainly marked as 
 was the case in the present instance. Mr. O' Connor, 
 of course, knew this, and accordingly had very little 
 fear that he was doing injustice to Mike in ordering 
 tim to make restitution to Ben. 
 
 Mike was forced, considerably against his will, to 
 
AMONO THE WHARVES. 115- 
 
 take off the new shirt, and put on his old ragged one 
 But the former was no longer as clean as formerly. 
 
 " Where can I get it washed? " asked Ben. 
 
 " You can wash it yourself, in the wash-room, 01 
 you can carry it to a laundry, as some of the boys 
 do, if you are willing to pay for it." 
 
 " I think I would rather carry it to a laundry," 
 said Ben, who doubted strongly his ability to waah 
 the shirt so as to improve its appearance. The 
 guperintendent accordingly gave him the direction ta 
 one of these establishments. 
 
 Opposite the room which he had entered was a 
 smaller room used by the boys as a gymnasium.. 
 Ben looked into it, and determined to use it on some 
 future occasion. He next went into the wash-room. 
 Here he saw two or three boys, stripped to the waist, 
 engaged in washing out their shirts. Being pro- 
 vided with but a single one each, they left them 
 to dry over night while they were in bed, and could 
 dispense with them. Ben wondered how they man- 
 aged about ironing them ; but he soon found that with 
 these amateur laundresses ironing was not consid- 
 ered necessary. They are put on rough-dry in the 
 
114 BEN, THS LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 morning, and so worn until they are considered dirty 
 enough for another purification. 
 
 Ben looked about him with interest. The boys 
 were chatting in an animated manner, detailing their 
 experiences during the day, or " chaffing " each other 
 in a style peculiar to themselves. 
 
 " Say, Jim," said one, " didn't I see you at the 
 Grand Opera last night?" 
 
 " Yes, of course you did," said Jim. " I was in 
 private box along with the mayor. I had a di'inond 
 pin in the bosom of my shirt." 
 
 " Yes, I seed you through my opera-glass. What 
 have you done with your diamond pin ? " 
 
 " Do you think Fd bring it here to be stole? No, 
 I keep it in my safe, along of my other valooables." 
 
 Ben listened in amusement, and thought that Jim 
 would have cut rather a singular figure in the may- 
 or's box. 
 
 Several boys, who had gone barefoot, were wash- 
 ing their feet, that being required previous to going 
 to bed. This is necessary ; otherwise the clean bed- 
 clothes would be so soiled as to require daily wash* 
 Ing 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 115 
 
 The boys seemed' to be having a good time, and 
 then, though he was unacquainted with any of them, 
 felt that it was much pleasanter to be here, in a social 
 atmosphere, than wandering around by himself 'in 
 the dark and lonely streets. He observed one thing 
 with surprise, that the boys refrained from profane or 
 vulgar speech, though they were by no means so par- 
 ticular IL the street during the day. This is, how- 
 ever, a rule strictly enforced by the superintendent, 
 and, if not complied with, the offender is denied the 
 privilege of the Lodging House. 
 
 After a while Ben expressed a desire to go to bed. 
 and in company with one of the boys descended to a 
 room equally large, in the story below, where over 
 a hundred single beds were arranged in tiers, in a 
 manner very similar to the berths of a steamboat. 
 Ben was agreeably surprised by the neat and com- 
 fortable appearance of these beds. He felt that he 
 should be nearly as well provided for as at home 4 
 Quickly undressing himself, he jumped into the bed 
 assigned him, and in a few minutes was fast asleep. 
 
4 16 BEN> THE LUGGAGE BOY; O3, 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 FURTHER EXPERIENCES. 
 
 BEN had a comfortable night's rest, and when hf 
 awoke in the morning he felt that a bed at the News- 
 boys' Lodge was considerably bettei than a bale of 
 cotton, or a hay-barge. At an early hour in the 
 morning the boys were called, and began to tumble 
 out in all directions, interchanging, as they performed 
 their hasty toilet, a running fire of " chaff" and good- 
 humored jesting, some of which consisted of personal 
 allusions the reverse of complimentary. 
 
 Many of the boys stopped to breakfast, but not all. 
 Some wanted to get to work earlier, and took breakfast 
 at a later hour at some cheap restaurant, earning it 
 before they ate it. Ben, however, had paid for hia 
 breakfast in advance, knowing that he could not get 
 it so cheap elsewhere, and so waited to partake of it. 
 He took his place at a long table with his compan- 
 ions, and found himself served with a bowl of coffee 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES 11"* 
 
 anJ a generous slice of bread. Sometimes, but no* 
 always, a little cold meat is supplied in addition. 
 But even when there is bread only, the coffee warms 
 the stomach, and so strengthens the boys for their 
 labors outside. The breakfast was not as varied, of 
 course, as Ben had been accustomed to at home, noi 
 as tempting as my young readers have spread before 
 them every morning ; but it was good of its kind, and 
 Ben ate it with unusual relish. 
 
 When he had finished his meal, he prepared to go 
 out to work ; not, however, till the superintendent, 
 whose recollection of individual boys is surprising, 
 considering the large number who frequent the Lodg- 
 ing House in the course of a year, had invited him to 
 come again. The Lodging House, though it cannot 
 supply the place of a private home, steps between 
 hundreds of boys and complete vagabondage, into 
 which, but for its existence, they would quickly lapse. 
 Probably no money is more wisely expended than 
 that which enables the Children's Aid Society oi New 
 York to maintain this and kindred institutions. 
 
 Ben had, after breakfast, eighty-five cents to com- 
 mence the day on. But of this sum, it wil] be remen> 
 
118 BEN, THE LUGGAGE EOT; Oft, 
 
 bered, he had reserved fifty cents to pay the friendly 
 reporter for his loan. This left him a working cap- 
 ital of thirty-five cents. It was not a large sum to 
 do business on, but it was enough, and with it Ben 
 felt quite independent. 
 
 In front of the ' Times ' office, Ben met Rough and 
 Ready, the newsboy who had taken his part the day 
 before. He had got the start of Ben, and was just 
 disposing of his only remaining paper. 
 
 " How are you?" asked Ben. 
 
 " So's to be around," answered the other. " What 
 are you up to?" 
 
 " I'm going to buy some papers." 
 
 " I have sold eight already. Where did you sleep 
 last night?" 
 
 " At the Lodging House." 
 
 "How do you like it?" 
 
 " It's a good place, and very cheap." 
 
 " Yes, it's a bully place. I'd go there myself, if 
 it wasn't for mother and Rose, It's enough sight 
 better than our room on Leonard Street. But I can't 
 leave my mother and sister." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 119 
 
 " If you're going to buy some more papers, I'd 
 like to go with you." 
 
 " All right. Come ahead." 
 
 Ben invested his money under the direction of his 
 companion. By his advice, he purchased nearly to 
 the amount of his entire capital, knowing that it would 
 come back to him again, so that his plan for paying 
 the reporter could still be carried out. 
 
 " You can stand near me, if you want to, Ben," 
 said Bough and Ready. 
 
 "I am afraid I shall interfere with your trade," 
 answered Ben. 
 
 " Don't be afraid of that. I don't ask no favors. 
 I can get my share of business." 
 
 Ben, while engaged in selling papers himself, 
 nad an opportunity to watch the ready tact with 
 which Rough and Ready adapted himself to the dif- 
 ferent persons whom he encountered. He succeeded 
 *n effecting a sale in many cases where others would 
 have failed. He had sold all his papers before Ben 
 had disposed of two-thirds of his, though both began 
 with an equal number. 
 
1JJO BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 * ; Here, Ben," he said, generously, "give me three 
 of your papers, I'll sell 'em for you." 
 
 By tins friendly help, Ben found himself shortly 
 ampty-handed. 
 
 " Shall I buy any more ? " he inquired of his com- 
 panion. 
 
 " It's gettin* late for mornin' papers," said Rough 
 and Ready. " You'd better wait ill the evenin* 
 papers come out. How much money have you 
 made?" 
 
 Ben counted over his money, and answered, 
 " I've made thirty-five cents." 
 
 " Well, that'll be more'n enough to buy your 
 -dinner." 
 
 " How much do you make in a day ? " a?Jwd Ben. 
 
 " Sometimes over a dollar." 
 
 " You ought to lay up money, then." 
 
 Rough and Ready shook his head. 
 
 "I have to pay everything over to my &sf]w tl n 
 he said. " It's little enough to support a family." 
 
 u Doesn't your father earn anything? " 
 
 " My step-father," repeated the other, emphasizing 
 the first syllable. " No, he doesn't earn much, and 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 121 
 
 what he does earn, he spends for rum. We could do 
 a great deal better without him," he continued. 
 
 Ben began to see that he had a much easier vask 
 before him in supporting himself, than his new friend 
 in supptying the wants of a family of four ; for Mr. 
 Martin, his step-father, did not scruple to live par- 
 tially on the earnings of his step-son, whose industry 
 should have put him to shame. 
 
 " I guess I'll go home a little while," said Bough 
 and Ready. " I'll see you again this afternoon." 
 
 Left to himself, Ben began to walk around with an 
 entirely different feeling from that which he experi- 
 enced the day before. He had one dollar and twenty 
 cents in his pocket ; not all of it his own, but the 
 greater part of it his own earnings. Only twenty- 
 four hours before his prospects seemed very dark. 
 Now he had found friends, and he had also learned 
 how to help himself. 
 
 As he was walking down Nassani Street, he sud- 
 denly espied, a little distance ahead, the reporter who 
 had done him such an important service the day 
 before. 
 
122 BEN, THE LUQGAOE BOY ; 0/2, 
 
 He quickened his pace, and speedily came up with 
 him 
 
 " Good-morning," said he, by way of calling the 
 reporter's attention. 
 
 " Good-morning," responded the reporter, not at 
 first recognizing him. 
 
 " I'm ready to pay the money you lent me yester- 
 day," said Ben. 
 
 " Oh, you're the boy I set up in business yester- 
 day. Well, how have you made out? " 
 
 " Pretty well," said Ben, with satisfaction. " Here's 
 the money you lent me ; " and he drew out fifty cents, 
 and offered it to the young man. 
 
 " But have you got any money left? " inquired the 
 reporter. 
 
 Ben displayed the remainder of his money, men- 
 tioning the amount. 
 
 "You've succeeded capitally. Where did yoti 
 sleep last night?" 
 
 " At the Newsboys' Lodge." 
 
 "That's better than sleeping out. I begin to 
 think, my young friend, you must have a decided 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 123 
 
 business talent. It isn't often a new boy succeeds 
 o well." 
 
 Ben was pleased with this compliment, and made 
 a new offer of the money, which the young man had 
 not yet taken. 
 
 " I don't know as I had better take this money," 
 aid the reporter ; " you may need it." 
 
 "No," said Ben, "I've got enough to keep me 
 long." 
 
 " You've got to get dinner." 
 
 "That won't cost me more than twenty-five cent* ; 
 then I shall have forty-five to buy papers this after- 
 noon." 
 
 " Well," said the young man, " if you doa't need 
 it, I will take it ; but on one condition." 
 
 What is that?" asked Ben. 
 
 " That if you get hard up at any time, you will 
 come to me, and I will help you out." 
 
 4 Thank you," said Ben, gratefully. " You are 
 *ery kind." 
 
 " I know that you boys are apt to have h*j*d times ; 
 but if you work faithfully and don't form any bad 
 habits, I think you will get along. Here is my card. 
 
124 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; O/f, 
 
 und directions for finding me, if you need any assist* 
 ance at any time." 
 
 Ben took the card, and went on his way, feeling 
 more glad that he had paid his debt than if the money 
 were still in his possession. He felt that it was a 
 partial atonement for the theft which he had nearly 
 committed the day before. 
 
 As he walked along, thinking of what he had just 
 done, he suddenly found himself shoved violently off 
 the sidewalk. Looking angrily to see who was the 
 aggressor, he recognized Mike Rafferty, who had 
 been detected the night before in wearing his stolen 
 ehirt. 
 
 " What's that for?" demanded Ben, angrily. 
 
 " It's to tache you better manners, ye spalpeen I " 
 said Mike. 
 
 Ben returned the blow with spirit. 
 
 " That's to teach you not to steal my shirt again," 
 he said, 
 
 " It's a lie," said Mike. " I bought it of the man 
 you sold it to." 
 
 " You know better," retorted Ben. " You took it 
 virile I was asleep in the Park." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 125 
 
 Mike was about to retaliate with another blow, 
 vhen the sight of an approaching policeman warned 
 him of peril, and he retreated in good order, sending 
 back looks of defiance at our hero, whom he could 
 not forgive for having proved him guilty of theft. 
 
 Ben's exploration of the city had thus far been very 
 limited. He had heard of the Battery, and he deter- 
 mined to go down there. The distance was not great, 
 and in a few minutes he found himself at the lower 
 end of the Manhattan Island, looking with interest at 
 the shores across the river. Here was Castle Garden, 
 a large structure, now used for recently arrived 
 emigrants, but once the scene of one of Jenny Lind'a 
 triumphs. Now it would seem very strange to have a 
 grand concert given in such a building and in such a lo- 
 cality. However, Ben knew nothing of the purposes of 
 the building, and looked at it ignorantly. The Battery 
 he thought might once harve been pretty ; but now the 
 grass has been worn off by pedestrians, and the once 
 fashionable houses in the neighborhood have long 
 ago been deserted by their original proprietors, and 
 been turned into warehouses, or cheap boarding* 
 houses, 
 
126 BJWV, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OB, 
 
 After looking about a little, Ben turned to go 
 back. He began to feel hungry, and thought he 
 might as well get some dinner. After that was eaten 
 it would be time for the evening papers. He was 
 intending to go back to Fulton Street ; but his atten- 
 tion was drawn to a restaurant by the bills of fare 
 exposed outside. A brief examination satisfied him 
 that the prices were quite as moderate as in Fulton 
 Street, and he decided to enter, and take his dinne; 
 
 tat*. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 127 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 BEN BECOMES A BAGGAGE-SMASHER. 
 
 THE restaurant was a small one, and not fashion* 
 able in appearance, having a shabby look. The floor 
 was sanded, and the tables were covered with soiled 
 cloths. However, Ben had learned already not to be 
 fastidious, and he sat down and gave his order. A 
 plate of roast beef and a cup of coffee were brought, 
 according to his directions. Seated opposite him at 
 the table was a man who had nearly completed his 
 dinner as Ben commenced. He held in his hand a 
 Philadelphia paper, which he left behind when he 
 rose to go. 
 
 " You have left your paper," said Ben. 
 
 " I have read it through," was the reply. " 1 don'* 
 care to take \y 
 
 Ben took it up, and found it to be a daily paper 
 which his father had been accustomed to take for 
 years, It gave him a start, as he saw the familial 
 
128 MEN) THS LUGGAGE HOY,' OR, 
 
 page, and he felt a qualm of homesickness. The 
 neat house in whivii he had lived since be was born, 
 his mother's gentle face, rose up before him, com- 
 pared with his present friendless condition, and the 
 tears rose to his eyes. But he was in a public res- 
 taurant, and his pride came to the rescue. He pressed 
 back the tears, and resumed his knife and fork. 
 
 When he had finished his dinner, he took up the 
 paper once more, reading here and there. At last 
 his eye rested on the following advertisement : 
 
 "My son, Benjamin Brandon, having run away from 
 home without any good reason, I hereby caution the public 
 against trusting him on my account ; but will pay the sum 
 of one dollar and necessary expenses to any person who 
 will return him to me. He is ten years old, well grown for 
 his age, has dark eyes and a dark complexion. He was 
 dressed in a gray-mixed suit, and had on a blue cap when 
 
 he left home. 
 
 " JAMES BRANDON." 
 
 Ben's face flushed when he read this advertisement. 
 It was written by his father, he knew well enough, 
 and he judged from the language that it was written 
 in anger. One dollar was offered for his restoration. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVE8. 129 
 
 Ben felt somehow humiliated at the smallness of 
 the sum, and at the thought that this advertisement 
 would be read by his friends and school-companions. 
 The softer thoughts, which but just now came to him, 
 were banished, and he determined, whatever hardships 
 awaited him, to remain in New York, and support 
 himself as he had begun to do. But, embittered as 
 he felt against his father, he felt a pang when he 
 thought of his mother. He knew how anxious she 
 would feel about him, and he wished he might be able 
 to write her privately that he was well, and doing 
 well. But he was afraid the letter would get into his 
 father's hands, and reveal his whereabouts ; then 
 the police might be set on his track, and he might be 
 forced home to endure the humiliation of a severe 
 punishment, and the jeers of his companions, who 
 would never let him hear the last of his abortive 
 attempt. 
 
 At last a way occurred to him. He would write 
 a letter, and place it in the hands of some one going 
 to Philadelphia, to be posted in the latter city. This 
 would give no clue to his present home, and would 
 answer the purpose of relieving his mother's anxiety. 
 
 9 
 
ISO BEN, TRS LUGGAGE BO* ; 0.R, 
 
 Late in the afternoon, Ben went into a stationery 
 store on Nassau Street. 
 
 " Will you give me a sheet of paper, and an enve- 
 lope ? " he asked, depositing two cents on the counter. 
 
 Tha articles called for were handed him, 
 
 " Can I write a letter here? " inquired Ben. 
 
 " You can go round to that desk," said the clerk ; 
 " you will find pen and ink there." 
 
 Ben, with some difficulty, composed and wrote the 
 following letter, for it was the first he had ever had 
 occasion to write : 
 
 " DEAR MOTHER, I hope you will not feel very 
 bad because I have left home. Father punished me 
 for what I did not do, and after that I was not will- 
 ing to stay ; but I wish I could see you. Don't feel 
 anxious about me, for I am getting along very well, 
 and earning my own living. I cannot tell you where 
 I am, for father might find out, and I do not want to 
 come back, especially after that advertisement. 1 
 don't think my going will make much difference to 
 father, as he has only offered one dollar reward for 
 me. You need not show this letter to him. I senJ 
 
AMONG THE WHAHVE8. 131 
 
 you my love, and I also send my love to Mary, though 
 she used to tease me sometimes. And now I must 
 bid you good-by. 
 
 " From your affectionate son, 
 
 "BEN." 
 
 After completing this letter Ben put it in the enve- 
 lope, and directed it to 
 
 "MBS. RUTH BRANDON, 
 
 " Cedarville, 
 
 " Pennsylvania" 
 
 It may be explained that the Mary referred to was 
 an elder sister, ten years older than Ben, againsV, 
 whom he felt somewhat aggrieved, on account ol nia 
 sister's having interfered with him more than he 
 thought she had any right to do. She and Ben were 
 the only children. 
 
 If I were to express my opinion of this letter of 
 Ben's, I should say that it was wanting in proper 
 feeling for the mother who had always been kind and 
 gentle to him, and whose heart, he must have known, 
 would be deeply grieved by his running away from 
 home. But Ben's besetting sin was pride, mingled 
 
132 BBN, THE LUGGAGE SOT; OJJ, 
 
 with obstinacy, and pride prevailed over his love for 
 Ms mother. If he could have known of the bitter 
 tears which his mother was even now shedding over 
 her lost boy, I think he would have found it difficult 
 to maintain his resolution. 
 
 When the letter was written, Ben went across to 
 'the post-office, and bought a three-cent stamp, which 
 he placed on the envelope. Then, learning that 
 there was an evening train for Philadelphia, he went 
 down to the Cortlandt Street Ferry, and watched 
 till he saw a gentleman, who had the air of a travel- 
 ler. Ben stepped up to him and inquired, " Are 
 you going to Philadelphia, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes, my la 1," was the answer ; " are you going 
 there also?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " I thought you might want somebody to take 
 charge of you. Is there anything I can do for you ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. If you would be so kind as to post this 
 letter in Philadelphia." 
 
 " I will do so ; but why don't you post it in New 
 York ? It will go just as well." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 183 
 
 " The person who wrote it," said Ben, " doesn't 
 want to have it known where it came from." 
 
 " Very well, give it to me, and I will see that it is 
 properly mailed." 
 
 The gentleman took the letter, and Ben felt glad 
 that it was written. He thought it would relieve hia 
 mother's anxiety, 
 
 As he was standing on the pier, a gentleman hay- 
 ing a carpet-bag in one hand, and a bundle of books 
 in the other, accosted him. 
 
 " Can you direct me to the Astor House, boy ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Ben. 
 
 Then, with a sudden thought, he added, " Shall I 
 carry your carpet-bag, sir ? " 
 
 " On the whole I think you may," said the gentle- 
 man. " Or stay, I think you may take this parcel of 
 books." 
 
 " I can carry both, sir." 
 
 " No matter about that. I will carry the bag, and 
 you shall be my guide." 
 
 Ben had not yet had time to get very well 
 acquainted with the city ; but the Astor House, which 
 is situated nearly opposite the lower end of the 
 
BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 Park, he had passed a dozen times, and knew 
 the way to it very well. He was glad that the gen- 
 tlem&n wished to go there, and not to one of the up- 
 town Hotels, of which he knew nothing. He went 
 straight up Cortlandt Street to Broadway, and then 
 turning north, soon arrived at the massive structure, 
 which, for over thirty years, has welcomed travellers 
 from all parts of the world. 
 
 '* This is the Astor House, sir," said Ben. 
 
 " I remember it now," said the gentleman ; " but it 
 is ten years since I have been in New York, and I 
 did not feel quite certain of finding my way. Do you 
 live in New York?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " You may give me the package now. How much 
 shall I pay you for your services ? " 
 
 " Whatever you please, sir," said Ben. 
 
 "Will that answer?" and the traveller placed 
 twenty-five cents in the hands of our young hero. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Ben, in a tone of satisfaction 
 " Thank you." 
 
 The traveller entered the hotel, and Ben remained 
 outside, congratulating himself upon his good luck. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 13ft- 
 
 " That's an easy way to earn twenty five cents,** 
 he thought. " It didn't take me more than fifteen 
 minutes to come up from the ferry, and I should* 
 have to sell twenty-five papers to make so much." 
 
 This sum, added to what he had made during the 
 day by selling papers, and including what he had on 
 hand originally, made one dollar and thirty cents. But 
 out of this he had spent twenty-five cents for dinner, 
 and for his letter, including postage, five cents. 
 Thus his expenses had been thirty cents, which, being 
 deducted, left him just one dollar. Out of this, how- 
 ever, it would be necessary to buy some supper, and 
 pay for his lodging and breakfast at the Newsboys* 
 Home. Fifteen cents, however, would do for the 
 first, while the regular charge for the second would be 
 but twelve cents. Ben estimated, therefore, that he 
 would have seventy-three cents to start on next day. 
 He felt that this was a satisfactory state of finan- 
 ces, and considered whether he could not afford to 
 spend a little more for supper. However, not feeling 
 very hungry, he concluded not to do so. 
 
 The next morning he bought papers as usual and 
 gold them. But it seemed considerably harder work, 
 
136 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; <XB, 
 
 for the money, than carrying bundles. However, Ben 
 foresaw that in order to become a " baggage-smasher " 
 (for this is the technical term by which the boys and 
 men are known, who wait around the ferries and 
 railway depots for a chance to carry baggage, though 
 I have preferred to use the term luggage boy), it 
 would be necessary to know more about localities in 
 the city than he did at present. Accordingly he 
 devoted the intervals of time between the selling of 
 papers, to seeking out and ascertaining the locality 
 of the principal hotels and streets in the city. 
 
 In the course of a fortnight he had obtained a very 
 fair knowledge of the city. He now commenced wait- 
 ing at the ferries and depots, though he did not im- 
 mediately give up entirely the newspaper trade. But 
 at length he gave it up altogether, and became a 
 44 baggage-smasher," by profession, or, as he is styled 
 in the title of this book, a luggage boy. 
 
 Thus commences a new page in his history. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 137 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 BEN'S HOME IN PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 THOUGH the story of " Ben, the Luggage Boy," 
 professes to treat of life in the city streets, I must 
 devote a single chapter to a very different place. I 
 must carry the reader to Ben's home in Pennsylvania, 
 and show what effect his running away had upon the 
 family circle. 
 
 There was a neat two-story house standing on the 
 principal street in Cedarville, with a pleasant lawn 
 in front, through which, from the gate, a gravelled 
 walk ran to the front door. Mr. Brandon, as I have 
 already said, was a coal-dealer, and in very comfort- 
 able circumstances ; so that Ben had never known 
 what it was to want anything which he really needed. 
 He was a man of great firmness, and at times sever- 
 ity, and more than once Ben had felt aggrieved by 
 his treatment of him. Mrs. Brandon was quite dif- 
 ferent from her husband, being gentle and kind, and 
 
138 BEN, THE LUQOAGJS BOY; OJ2, 
 
 it was to her that Ben always went for sympathy, in 
 any trouble or difficulty, whether at home or at 
 school. 
 
 Mrs. Brandon was sitting at the window with her 
 work in her hand ; but it had fallen listlessly in her 
 lap, and on her face was a look of painful preoccupa- 
 tion. Opposite her sat her daughter Mary, Ben's 
 only sister, already referred to. 
 
 " Don't worry so, mother," said Mary ; " you will 
 make yourself sick." 
 
 " I cannot help it, Mary," said Mrs. Brandon. " I 
 can't help worrying about Ben. He has been gone a 
 week now, and Heaven knows what he has suffered. 
 He may be dead." 
 
 "No, mother," said Mary, who had more of her 
 father's strength than her mother's gentleness. " He 
 is not dead, you may depend upon that." 
 
 "But he had no money, that I know of. How 
 could he live?" 
 
 "Ben can take care of himself better than most 
 boys of iris age." 
 
 " But think of a boy of ten going out in the world 
 by himself" 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 139 
 
 " There are many boys of ten who have to io it, 
 icther." 
 
 *- What could the poor bo^ dvi?" 
 
 *' He inight suffer a little ; but if he does, he will 
 Ihe sooner come home." 
 
 " I wish he might," said Mrs. Brandon, with a sigh. 
 *I think yom* father does very wrong not to go 
 after him." 
 
 " He wouldn't know where to go. Besides, he has 
 advertised." 
 
 " I hope Ben will not see the advertisement. Poor 
 boy ! he would feel hurt to think that we cared so 
 little for him as to offer only one dollar for his return." 
 
 " He will know you had nothing to do with the 
 advertisement, mother ; you may be sure of that." 
 
 "Yes, he knows me too well for that. I would 
 give all I have to have him back." 
 
 " I want him back too," said Mary. " He is my 
 only brother, and of course I love him ; but I don't 
 think it will do him any harm to suffer a little as a 
 punishment for going away." 
 
 " You were always hard upon the poor boy, Mary/ 
 said Mrs. Brandon. 
 
140 JttJSN, THE LUGGAGE SOT; OR, 
 
 " No, I am not hard ; but I see his faults, and I 
 want him to correct them. It is you who have been 
 too indulgent." 
 
 " If I have been, it is because you and your fathei 
 have been too much the other way." 
 
 There was a brief pause, then Mrs. Brandon said, 
 "Can you think of any place, Mary, where Ben 
 would be likely to go? " 
 
 " Yes, I suppose he went to Philadelphia, When 
 a boy runs away from home, he naturally goes to the 
 nearest city." 
 
 " I have a great mind to go up to-morrow." 
 
 " What good would it do, mother? " 
 
 " I might meet him in the street." 
 
 " There is not much chance of that. I shouldn't 
 wonder if by this time he had gone to sea." 
 
 " Gone to sea I " repeated Mrs. Brandon, turning 
 pale. "What makes you think so? Did he ever 
 speak of such a thing to you ? " 
 
 " Yes, he once threatened to run away to sea, 
 When I did something that did not suit him." 
 
 "Ob, I hope not. I have heard that boys are 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 141 
 
 treated very badly on board ship. Besides, ne might 
 get drowned." 
 
 " I am not sure whether a good sea- voyage might 
 not be the best thing for him," said strong-minded 
 Mary. 
 
 " But suppose he should be ill-treated ? " 
 
 " It might take the pride out of him, and make 
 him a better boy." 
 
 "I never get much satisfaction from you, Mary. 
 I don't see how you can be so harsh." 
 
 " I see we are not likely to agree, mother. But 
 there is a boy coming up the walk with a letter in 
 his hand." 
 
 "It may be from Ben," said his mother, rising 
 hastily, and going to the door. 
 
 The boy was William Gordon, a schoolmate of 
 Ben's, whose disappearance, long before this time, 
 had been reported throughout the village. 
 
 " I was passing the post-office, Mrs. Brandon," 
 he said, " when the postmaster called from the win- 
 dow, and asked me to bring you this letter. I think 
 it is from Ben. The handwriting looks like his." 
 
142 BEN) TELE LUGGAGE BO1 / OJB, 
 
 " Oh, thank you, William," said Mrs. Brandon, joy- 
 tolly. " Give it to me quick." 
 
 She tore it open and read the letter, which is given 
 t length in the last chapter. 
 
 " Is it from Ben? " asked William. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Is he in Philadelphia? I noticed it was mailed 
 there." 
 
 " Yes no he says he cannot tell us where he is." 
 
 " I think he must be in Philadelphia, or the letter 
 ^ould not be mailed there." 
 
 " Come in, William. I must go and tell Mary." 
 
 u No, thank you, Mrs. Brandon. I am on an 
 errand for my mother. I hope Ben is well ? " 
 
 " Yes, he says so." 
 
 Mrs. Brandon went in, and showed the letter to 
 her daughter. 
 
 ' s There, I told you, mother, you need not be 
 alarmed. He says he is earning his living." 
 
 " But it seems so hard for a boy of ten to have to 
 work for his living. What can he do? " 
 
 'Oh, there are various things he can do. He 
 might sell papers, for instance." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 148 
 
 "I think I shall go to Philadelphia to-morrow, 
 Mary." 
 
 " It won't be of any use, you may depend, mother, 
 He is not in Philadelphia." 
 
 " But this letter is posted there." 
 
 " That is a proof to me that he is not there. He 
 ays he don't want to come back." 
 
 Shortly after, Mr. Brandon entered the house. 
 
 "We have had a letter from Ben, father," said 
 Mary. 
 
 " Show it to me," he said, briefly. 
 
 He read the letter, and handed it back without a 
 word. 
 
 " What are you going to do about it, Mr. Bran- 
 don ? " asked his wife. 
 
 " What is there to be done? " he asked. 
 
 " I think I had better go up to Philadelphia to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " I might see him." 
 
 " You would be going on a wild-goose chase." 
 
 " Then why won't you go ? " 
 
 " It isn't worth while. If the boy doesn't want to 
 
144 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OJJ, 
 
 come home, he may take care of himself if he likes it 
 so well. I shan't run round after him." 
 
 " He says he did not do what you punished him 
 for," said Mrs. Brandon, rather deprecatingly, for 
 she was somewhat in awe of her bvisband. 
 
 " Of course he would say that. I have heard that 
 before." 
 
 " But I don't think he really did." 
 
 " I know you have always been foolishly indulgent 
 to him." 
 
 " At any rate that cannot be said of you," said his 
 wife, with some spirit. 
 
 "No," he answered, rather surprised at such an 
 unusual manifestation from his usually acquiescent 
 wife ; " you are right there, and you might add that 
 I don't mean to be, if he should return." 
 
 " I think he would have come home but for that 
 advertisement. You see what he says about it in 
 his letter." 
 
 " If I were to write it again, I should write it in 
 the same manner, though perhaps I might not offer 
 so large a sum." 
 
 Mrs. Brandon sighed, and ceased speaking. She 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 145 
 
 Knew her husband well enough to see that there was 
 little chance of changing his determination, or soft- 
 ening his anger towards Ben. 
 
 The next day, when Mr. Brandon returned home 
 to dinner from his coal-wharf, he found Mary seated 
 at the head of the table. 
 
 " Where is your mother?" he asked. 
 
 " She went to Philadelphia by the middle train, * 
 was the answer. 
 
 " She has gone on a fool's errand." 
 
 u I advised her not to go ; but she thought she 
 might meet Ben, and I could not dissuade her." 
 
 "Well, she will be better satisfied after she has 
 been up and failed to find him." 
 
 " Do you think he will ever come back, father?" 
 
 " Yes ; he will turn up again some daj^, like a bad 
 penny. He will find that earning his own living is 
 not quite so agreeable as being taken care of at 
 home." 
 
 " Suppose he shouldn't come back?" 
 
 ' So much the worse for him," said Mr. Brandon. 
 
 Mr. Brandon spoke after his way of speaking, for 
 he was not an affectionate man, nor given to the 
 
 10 
 
146 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 softer emotions. He had never given Ben anj? reason 
 to think he loved him, at least since he was a baby , 
 tmt appearances are sometimes deceptive, and he 
 thought more of his son's absence than any one 
 would have supposed. He thought, too, of that 
 sentence in Ben's letter, in which he spoke of being 
 punished for what he did not do, and he admitted to 
 himself, though he would not have done so to his 
 wife, that perhaps he had been unjust to the boy 
 after all. Every day when he turned from his office 
 to go home, it was with the unacknowledged hope 
 that he might find the prodigal returned. But in this 
 hope they were all doomed to be disappointed. Year 
 after year passed away, and still no tidings from Ben 
 beyond that single letter which we have mentioned. 
 
 Mrs. Brandon returned from Philadelphia, as 
 might have been anticipated, disappointed and 
 despondent. She was very tired, for she had wan- 
 dered about the streets, looking everywhere, during 
 the -four or five hours she was in the city. Once or 
 twice her heart beat high, as she saw in front of her 
 a boy of Ben's size, and dressed as he had been 
 dressed when he left home. But when, with hurry- 
 
THE WHARVES. 147 
 
 mg steps she came up with him, she was doomed, in 
 every case, to disappointment. 
 
 "I told you it would be no use, mother," said 
 Mary. 
 
 "I couldn't stay at home contented, if I did 
 nothing to find him, Mary." 
 
 " He'll turn up yet some day, mother, return in 
 rags most likely." 
 
 " Come when he may, or how he may, Mary, nqj 
 arms shall be open to receive him." 
 
 Bat the years passed, and Ben did not 
 
14S JUT, THE LUQQ4GX SOT; OB* 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE FIRST CIGAR. 
 
 IT ras a week or more after Ben started in barf- 
 as a baggage-smasher, that, in returning from 
 a carpet-bag to Lovejoy's Hotel, on Broad- 
 way, he fell in with his first city acquaintance, Jerry 
 Collins. Jerry had just "polished up" a gentle- 
 man's boots, and, having been unusually lucky this 
 morning in securing shines, felt disposed to be 
 lavish. 
 
 "How are you, Ben?" asked Jerry. " What are 
 you up to now?" 
 
 " Fm a baggage-smasher," answered Ben, who was 
 beginning to adopt the language of the streets. 
 
 "How does it pay?" 
 
 "Well," said Ben, "sometimes it, pays first rate, 
 when I'm lucky. Other days I don't get much to do. 
 I didn't make but fifteen cents this morning. I 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 14$ 
 
 carried a bag up to Lovejoy's, and that's all the man 
 would pay me." 
 
 " I've made fifty cents this mornin'. Look here, 
 Johnny." 
 
 The Johnny addressed was a boy who sold cigars, 
 four for ten cents. 
 
 " Fll take two," said Jerry, producing five cents. 
 
 " Six cents for two," said the cigar boy. 
 
 "All right, I'll owe you the other cent," said 
 Jrry, coolly. 
 
 " Do you smoke? " inquired Ben. 
 
 " In course I do. Don't you? " 
 
 "Why don't you?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Ben. " Do you like it?" 
 
 "It's bully. Here, take this cigar. I bought it 
 for you." 
 
 Ben hesitated; but finally, induced mainly by a 
 curiosity to see how it seemed, accepted the cigar. 
 and lighted it by Jerry's. The two boys sat down on 
 an empty box, and Jerry instructed Ben how to puffi, 
 Ben did not particularly enjoy it; but thought h 
 might as well learn now as any other time. Hit 
 
150 BBN* THE LUGGAGE BOlf ; Oft, 
 
 companion puffed away like a veteran smoker ; but 
 after a while Ben's head began to swim, and he felt 
 sick at his stomach. 
 
 " I don't feel well," he said. " I guess I'll stop 
 smoking." 
 
 " Oh, go ahead," said Jerry. " It's only because 
 it's the first time. You'll like it after a while." 
 
 Thus encouraged, Ben continued to smoke, though 
 Ms head and his stomach got continually worse. 
 
 ** I don't like it," gasped Ben, throwing down th 
 cigar. *' I'm going to stop." 
 
 u You've got a healthy color," said Jerry, slyly. 
 
 " I'm afraid I'm going to be awful sick," said Ben, 
 whose sensations were very far from comfortable. 
 Just at this moment, ignorant of the brief character 
 of his present feelings, he heartily wished himself at 
 nome, for the first time since his arrival in the city. 
 
 " You do look rather green," said Jerry. " May- 
 be you're going to have the cholera. I've heard that 
 there's some cases round." 
 
 This suggestion alarmed Ben, who laid his head 
 down between his knees, and began to feel worse than 
 ever. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 151 
 
 " Don't be scared," said Jerry, thinking it time to 
 relieve Ben's mind. " It's only the cigar. YouTI 
 feel all right in a jiffy." 
 
 While Ben was experiencing the disagreeable 
 effects of his first cigar, he resolved never to smoke 
 another. But, as might have been expected, he felt 
 differently on recovering. It was not long before he 
 could puff away with as much enjoyment and uncon- 
 cern as any of his street companions, and a part of 
 his earnings were consumed in this way. It may be 
 remarked here that the street boy does not always 
 indulge in the luxury of a whole cigar. Sometimes 
 he picks up a fragment which has been discarded by 
 the original smoker. There are some small dealers, 
 who make it a business to collect these " stubs," or 
 employ others to do so, and then sell them to the 
 street boys, at a penny apiece, or less, according to 
 size. Sometimes these stubs are bought in prefer- 
 ence to a cheap cigar, because they are apt to be 
 of a superior quality. Ben, however, never smoked 
 u stubs." In course of time he became very much 
 like other street boys ; but in some respects his taste 
 was more fastidious, and he preferred to indulge 
 
J52 BEN, THE LUGGAGE SOT; OJ8, 
 
 himself in a cheap cigar, which was not second- 
 hand. 
 
 We must now pass rapidly over the six years which 
 elapsed from the date of BCD'S first being set adrift 
 in the streets to the period at which our story prop- 
 erly begins. These years have been fruitful of 
 change to our young adventurer. They have changed 
 him from a country boy of ten, to a self-reliant 
 and independent street boy of sixteen. The impres- 
 sions left by his early and careful home-training have 
 been mostly effaced. Nothing in his garb now dis- 
 tinguishes him from the class of which he is a type. 
 He has long since ceased to care for neat or whole 
 attire, or carefully brushed hair. His straggling 
 locks, usually long, protrude from an aperture 
 in his hat. His shoes would make a very poor adver- 
 tisement for the shoemaker by whom they were orig- 
 inally manufactured. His face is not always free 
 from stains, and his street companions have long 
 since ceased to charge him with putting on airs, 
 on account of the superior neatness of his per- 
 sonal appearance. Indeed, he has become rathei 
 a favorite among them, in consequence of his 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 153 
 
 frankness, and his willingness at all times to lend 
 a helping hand to a comrade temporarily :< hard 
 up," He has adopted to a great extent the tastes 
 and habits of the class to which he belongs, and bears 
 with acquired philosophy the hardships and priva- 
 tions which fall to their lot. Like " Ragged Dick," 
 he has a sense of humor, which is apt to reveal itself 
 in grotesque phrases, or amusing exaggerations. 
 
 Of course his education, so far as education is 
 obtained from books, has not advanced at all. He 
 has not forgotten how to read, having occasion to 
 read the daily papers. Occasionally, too, he indulges 
 himself in a dime novel, the more sensational the 
 better, and is sometimes induced to read therefrom to 
 a group of companions whose attainments are even 
 iess than his own. 
 
 It may be asked whether he ever thinks of his 
 Pennsylvania home, of his parents and his sister. At 
 first he thought of them frequently ; but by degrees 
 he became so accustomed to the freedom and inde- 
 pendence of his street life, with its constant variety, 
 that he would have been unwilling to return, even if 
 the original cause of his leaving home were removed 
 
154 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR* 
 
 Life iii a Pennsylvania village seemed " slow " com- 
 pared with the excitement of his present life. 
 
 In the winter, when the weather was inclement, and 
 the lodging accommodations afforded by the street 
 were not particularly satisfactory, Ben found it conven- 
 *ent to avail himself of the cheap lodgings furnished 
 by the Newsboys' Lodging House ; but at other 
 times, particularly in the warm summer nights, he 
 eaved his six cents, and found a lodging for himself 
 among the wharves, or in some lane or alley. Of the 
 future he did not think much. Like street boys in 
 general, his horizon was limited by the present. 
 Sometimes, indeed, it did occur to him that ho 
 could not be a luggage boy all his lifetime. 
 Some time or other he must take up something else. 
 However, Ben carelessly concluded that he could 
 make a living somehow or other, and as to old age 
 that was too far ahead to disquiet himself about. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 155 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 i 
 
 THE PASSENGER FROM ALBANY. 
 
 BEN did not confine himself to any particular piei 
 or railway depot, but stationed himself now at one, 
 now at another, according as the whim seized him, or 
 as the prospect of profit appeared more or less prom- 
 ising. One afternoon he made his way to the pier at 
 which the Albany boats landed. He knew the hour 
 of arrival, not only for the river-boats, but for most 
 of the inward trains, for this was required by his 
 business. 
 
 He had just finished smoking a cheap cigar when 
 the boat arrived. The passengers poured out, and 
 the usual bustle ensued. Now was the time for Ben 
 to be on the alert. He scanned the outcoming pas- 
 sengers with an attentive eye, fixing his attention 
 upon those who were encumbered with carpet-bags, 
 valises, or bundles. These he marked out as his pos 
 eible patrons, and accosted them professionally. 
 
156 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; O.B, 
 
 " Smash yer baggage, sir ? " he said to a gentle- 
 man carrying a valise. 
 
 The latter stared hard at Ben, evidently misunder- 
 standing him, and answered irascibly, " Confound 
 your impudence, boy ; what do you mean ? " 
 
 " Smash yer baggage, sir? " 
 
 " If you smash my baggage, I'll smash your head." 
 
 " Thank you, sir, for your kind offer ; but my head 
 aint insured," said Ben, who saw the joke, and en- 
 Joyed it. 
 
 "Look here, boy," said the puzzled traveller, 
 " what possible good would it do you to smash my 
 baggage ? " 
 
 " That's the way I make a livin'," said Ben. 
 
 "Do you mean to say any persons are foolish 
 enough to pay you for destroying their baggage? 
 You must be crazy, or else you must think I am." 
 
 " Not destroying it, smashin' it." 
 
 " What's the difference? " 
 
 Here a person who tad listened to the conversa- 
 tion with some amusement interposed. 
 
 " If you will allow me to explain, sir, the boy only 
 proposes to carry your valise. He is what we call a 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 157 
 
 1 baggage-smasher,' and carrying it is called 4 smash- 
 ing.'" 
 
 44 Indeed, that's a very singular expression to use. 
 Well, my lad, I think I understand you now. You 
 have no hostile intentions, then ? " 
 
 44 Nary a one," answered Ben. 
 
 " Then I may see fit to employ you. Of conrM 
 you know the way everywhere ? " 
 
 44 Yes, sir." 
 
 44 You may take my valise as far as Broadwa) 
 There I shall take a stage." 
 
 Ben took the valise, and raising it to his shoulders 
 was about to precede his patron. 
 
 44 You can walk along by my side," said the gen- 
 tleman ; " I want to talk to you." 
 
 44 All right, governor," said Ben. " I'm ready for 
 an interview." 
 
 44 How do you like 4 baggage- smashing,' as you call 
 It?" 
 
 44 1 like it pretty well when I'm workin* for a lib* 
 eral gentleman like you," said Ben, shrewdly. 
 
 44 What makes you think I am liberal?" asked 
 the gentleman, smiling. 
 
158 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 *' I can tell by your face," answered our hero. 
 
 "But you get disappointed sometimes, don't you? * 
 
 " Yes, sometimes," Ben admitted. 
 
 " Tell me some of your experiences that way." 
 
 " Last week," said Ben, " I carried a bag, and a 
 thunderin* heavy one, from the Norwich boat to 
 French's Hotel, a mile and a half I guess it was, 
 and how much do you think the man paid me ? " 
 
 " Twenty-five cents." 
 
 " Yes, he did, but he didn't want to. All he offered 
 me first was ten cents." 
 
 " That's rather poor pay. I don't think I should 
 want to work for that myself." 
 
 " You couldn't live very high on such pay," said 
 Ben. 
 
 " I have worked as cheap, though." 
 
 " You have ! " said Ben, surprised. 
 
 "Yes, my lad, I was a poor boy once, as poor 
 as you are." 
 
 " Where did you live ? " asked Ben, interested. 
 
 " In a country town in New England. My father 
 died early, and I was left alone in the world. So 
 I hired myself out to a farmer for a dollar a week and 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 159 
 
 board. I had to be up at five every morning, and 
 work all day. My wages, you see, amounted to only 
 about sixteen cents a day and board for twelve hours' 
 work." 
 
 " Why didn't you run away?" inquired Ben. 
 
 " I didn't know where to run to." 
 
 "I s'pose you aint workin' for that now?" said 
 our hero. 
 
 "No, I've been promoted," said the gentleman, 
 smiling. " Of course I got higher pay, as I grew 
 older. Still, at twenty-one I found myself with only 
 two hundred dollars. I worked a year longer till 
 it became three hundred, and then I went out West, 
 to Ohio, where I took up a quarter-section of land, 
 and became a farmer on my own account. Since 
 then I've dipped into several things, have bougnt 
 nore land, which has increased in value on my hands, 
 till now I am probably worth fifty thousand dollars.*' 
 
 u I'm glad of it," said Ben. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 ** Because you can afford to pay me liberal far 
 waashin' your baggage." 
 
C60 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 " What do you call liberal?" inquired his patron, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Fifty cents," answered Ben, promptly. 
 
 " Then I will be liberal. Now, suppose you tell 
 me something about yourself. How long have you 
 been a * baggage-smasher,' as you call it?" 
 
 " Six years," said Ben. 
 
 " You must have begun young. How old are yon 
 now?" 
 
 " Sixteen." 
 
 " You'll soon be a man. What do you intend to 
 do then?" 
 
 "I haven't thought much about it," said Ben, with 
 truth. 
 
 " You don't mean to carry baggage all your life, 
 do you?" 
 
 " I guess not," answered Ben. " When I get to 
 be old and infirm, I'm goin' into some light, genteel 
 employment, such as keepin* a street stand." 
 
 "So that is your highest ambition, is it?" asked 
 the stranger. 
 
 " I don't think I've got any ambition," said Ben* 
 " A.S long as I make a livin', I don't mind." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 161 
 
 "When you see well-dressed gentlemen walking 
 down Broadway, or riding in then carriages, don't 
 you sometimes think it would be agreeable if you. 
 could be in their place?" 
 
 " I should like to have a lot of money," said Ben 
 " I wouldn't mind bein' the president of a bank, or t 
 railway-director, or somethin* of that kind." 
 
 "I am afraid you have never thought seriously 
 upon the subject of your future," said Ben's com- 
 panion, "or you wouldn't be satisfied with your 
 present business." 
 
 " What else can I do? I'd rather smash baggage 
 than sell papers or black boots." 
 
 " I would not advise either. I'll tell you what you 
 ought to do, my young friend. You should leave the 
 city, and come out West. I'll give you something to 
 c!o on one of my farms, and promote you as you are 
 fit for it." 
 
 "You're very kind," said Ben, more seriously; 
 * but I shouldn't like it." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "I don't want to leave the city. Here there'* 
 11 
 
162 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; Otf, 
 
 fiomethiu' goin' on. I'd miss the streets and the 
 crowds. I'd get awful lonesome in the country." 
 
 " Isn't it tetter to have a good home in the coun- 
 try than to live as you do in the city?" 
 
 "I like it well enough," said Ben. "We're a 
 jolly crowd, and we do as we please. There aint 
 nobody to order us round 'cept the copps, and they 
 let us alone unless we steal, or something of that 
 kind/' 
 
 " So you are wedded to your city life ? " 
 
 " Yes, I guess so ; though I don't remember when 
 the weddin' took place." 
 
 " And you prefer to live on in your old way ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; thank you all the same." 
 
 " You may change your mind some time, my lad 
 
 If you ever do, and will write to me at B , Ohio, 
 
 I will send for you to come out. Here is my card." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Ben. tc I'll keep the card> 
 and if ever I change my mind, I'll let you know." 
 
 Thev had been walking slowly, or they would have 
 reached Broadway sooner. They had now arrived 
 there, and the stranger bade Ben good-by, handing 
 him at the same time the fifty cents agreed upon. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 163 
 
 " He's a brick," Ben soliloquized, " even if he 
 did say he'd smash my head. I hope I'll meet some 
 more like him." 
 
 Ben's objection to leaving the city is felt in an 
 equal degree by many boys who are situated like him- 
 self. Street life has its privations and actual suffer 
 ings ; but for all that there is a wild independence 
 and freedom from restraint about it, which suits 
 those who follow it. To be at the beck and call of 
 no one ; to be responsible only to themselves, pro- 
 vided they keep from violating the law, has a charm 
 to these young outcasts. Then, again, they become 
 accustomed to the street and its varied scenes, and 
 the daily excitement of life in a large city becomes 
 such a matter of necessity to them, that they find 
 the country lonesome. Yet, under the auspices of 
 the Children's Aid Society, companies of boys are 
 continually being sent out to the great West with 
 the happiest results. After a while the first loneli- 
 ness wears away, and they become interested in the 
 new scenes and labors to which diey are introduced, 
 and a large number have already grown up to hold 
 respectable, and, in some cases, prominent places, in 
 
164 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY, OR, 
 
 the com inanities which they have joined. Others 
 have pined for the city, until they could no longer 
 resist their yearning for it, and have found their 
 way back to the old, familiar scenes, to resume the 
 former life of suffering and privation. Such is the 
 strange fascination which their lawless and irrespon- 
 sible mode of life oftentimes exerts upon the minda 
 of these young Arabs of the street. 
 
 When Ben parted from the passenger by the Albany 
 boat, he did not immediately seek another job. 
 Accustomed as he was to live from " hand to mouth," 
 he had never troubled himself much about accumu- 
 lating more than would answer his immediate needs. 
 Some boys in the Lodging House made deposits in 
 the bank of that institution ; but frugality was not one 
 of Ben's virtues. As long as he came out even at 
 the end of the day, he felt very well satisfied. Gen- 
 erally he went penniless to bed; his business not 
 being one that required him to reserve money for 
 capital to carry it on. In the case of a newsboy it 
 was different. He must keep enough on hand to buy 
 a supply of papers in the morning, even if he wew 
 compelled to go to bed supperless. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 165 
 
 With fifty cents in his pocket, Ben felt rich. It 
 would buy him a good supper, besides paying for his 
 lodging at the Newsboys' Home, and a ticket for the 
 Old Bowery besides, that is, a fifteen-cent ticket, 
 which, according to the arrangement of that day. 
 would admit him to one of the best-located seats ii* 
 the house, that is, in the pit, corresponding to what 
 is known as the parquette in other theatres. This 
 arrangement has now been changed, so that the street 
 boys find themselves banished to the upper gallery 
 of their favorite theatre. But in the days of which I 
 am speaking they made themselves conspicuous in 
 the front rows, and were by no means bashful in 
 indicating their approbation or disapprobation of the 
 different actors who appeared on the boards before 
 them. 
 
 Ben had not gone far when he fell in with an 
 acquaintance, Barney Ftynn. 
 
 " Where you goin', Ben ? " inquired Barney. 
 
 ' Goin' to get some grub," answered Ben. 
 
 " I'm with you, then. I haven't eat anythioff 
 mornin', and I'm awful hungry." 
 
 " Have you got any stamps?" 
 
166 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OB, 
 
 " Vve got a fifty." 
 
 " So have I." 
 
 " Where are you goin' for supper?" 
 
 '< To Pat's, I guess." 
 
 " All right ; Til go with you." 
 
 The establishment known as "Pat's" is located 
 in a basement in Nassau Street, as the reader of 
 " Mark, the Match Boy," will remember. It is, of 
 coarse, a cheap restaurant, and is considerably fre- 
 quented by the street boys, who here find themselves 
 more welcome guests than at some of the more pre- 
 tentious eating-houses. 
 
 Ben and Barney entered, and gave their orders for 
 a substantial repast. The style in which the meal 
 was served differed considerably from the service at 
 Delmonico's ; but it is doubtful whether any of the 
 guests at the famous up-town restaurant enjoyed their 
 meal any better than the two street boys, each of 
 whom was blest with a " healthy " appetite. Barney 
 had eaten nothing since morning, and Ben's fast had 
 only been broken by the eating of a two-cent apple, 
 which had not been sufficient to satisfy his hunger. 
 
 Notwithstanding the liberality of their orders, how 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 167 
 
 ever, each of the boys found himself, at the end of 
 the ineal, the possessor of twenty-five cents. This 
 was not Q, very large sum to sleep on, but it wais long 
 since either had waked up in the morning with so 
 large a capital to commence operations upon. 
 
 "What shall we do?" asked Ben. 
 
 44 Suppose we go to the Old Bowery," suggested 
 Barney, 
 
 44 Or Tony Pastor's," amended Ben. 
 
 44 1 like the Bowery best. There's a great fight, 
 and a feller gets killed on the stage. It's a stunnin' 
 old play." 
 
 4 ' Then let us go," said Ben, who, as well as hii 
 companion, liked the idea of witnessing a stage fight, 
 which was all the more attractive on account of hav- 
 ing a fatal termination. 
 
 As the theatre tickets would cost but fifteen cents 
 each, the boys felt justified in purchasing each a cheap 
 cigar t which they smoked as they walked leisurely 
 up Chatham Street 
 
168 BEN) THE LUGGAGE BOY} OX 9 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE ROOM UNDER THE WHARF. 
 
 IT was at a late hour when the boys left the the* 
 toe. The play had been of a highly sensational 
 character, and had been greeted with enthusiastic 
 applause on the part of the audience, particularly the 
 occupants of the " pit." Now, as they emerged from 
 the portals of the theatre, various characteristic 
 remarks of a commendatory character were inter- 
 changed. 
 
 " How'd you like it, Ben ? " asked Barney. 
 
 "Bully," said Ben. 
 
 "I liked the fight best," said Barney. "Jones 
 give it to him just about right." 
 
 " Yes, that was good," said Ben ; " but I liked it 
 best where Alphonso says to Montmorency, ' Caitiff, 
 beware, or, by the heavens above, my trusty 
 shall drink thy foul heart's blood 1 ' " 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 169 
 
 Ben gave this with the stage emphasis, so far as he 
 sould imitate it. Barney listened admiringly. 
 
 " I say, Ben," he replied, " you did that bully 
 You'd make a tip-top actor." 
 
 "Would I?" said Ben, complacently. "I think 
 Fd like to try it if I knew enough. How much 
 money have you got, Barney ?" 
 
 " Nary a red. I spent the last on peanuts." 
 
 " Just my case. We'll have to find some place to 
 turn in for the night." 
 
 " I know a place," said Barney, " if they'll let us in." 
 
 " Whereabouts is it? " 
 
 " Down to Dover Street wharf." 
 
 " What sort of a place is it? There aint any boxes 
 or old wagons, are there?" 
 
 " No, it's under the wharf, a bully place." 
 
 u Under the wharf! It's wet, isn't it? " 
 
 " No, you just come along. I'll show you." 
 
 Having no other place to suggest, Ben accepted 
 his companion's guidance, and the two made their 
 way by the shortest route to the wharf named. It is 
 situated not far from Fulton Ferry on the east side. 
 Tt may be called a double wharf. As originally built, 
 
170 BEN, THIS LUGGAGE BOY; OA, 
 
 it was found too low for the class of vessels that 
 it, and another flooring was built over the first, leav- 
 ing a considerable space between the two. Its 
 capabilities for a private rendezvous occurred to a 
 few boys, who forthwith proceeded to avail them- 
 selves of it. It was necessary to carry on their pro- 
 ceedings secretly ; otherwise there was danger of 
 interference from the city police. What steps they 
 took to make their quarters comfortable will shortly 
 be described. 
 
 When they reached the wharf, Barney looked about 
 him with an air of caution, which Ben observed. 
 
 " What are you scared of? " asked Ben. 
 
 " We mustn't let the ; copp ' see us," said Barney. 
 " Don't make no noise." 
 
 Thus admonished, Ben followed his companion 
 with as little noise as possible. 
 
 " How do you get down there? " he asked. 
 
 " I'll show you," said Barney. 
 
 He went to the end of the wharf, and, motioning 
 Ben to look over, showed him a kind of ladder 
 formed by nailing strips of wood, at regular intervals, 
 from the outer edge down to the water's edge. This 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 171 
 
 was not an arrangement of the boys, but was for the 
 accommodation of river-boats landing at the wharf. 
 
 " I'll go down first," whispered Barney. " If the 
 copp ' comes along, move off, so he won't notice 
 uothinY' 
 
 " All right ! " said Ben. 
 
 Barney got part way down the ladder, when a head 
 was protruded from below, and a voice demanded, 
 "Who's there?" 
 
 " It's I, Barney Flynn." 
 
 " Come along, then." 
 
 " I've got a fellow with me," continued Barney. 
 
 "Who is it?" 
 
 "It's Ben, the baggage-smasher. He wants to 
 stop here to-night." 
 
 " All right ; we can trust him." 
 
 " Come along, Ben," Barney called up the ladder. 
 
 Ben quickly commenced the descent. Barney was 
 waiting for him, and held out his hand to help him 
 off. Our hero stepped from the ladder upon the 
 lower flooring of the wharf, and looked about him 
 with some curiosity. It was certainly a singular 
 spectacle that met his view. About a dozen boys 
 
172 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OB, 
 
 were congregated in the room under the wharf, and 
 had evidently taken some pains to make themselves 
 comfortable. A carpet of good size was spread over 
 a portion of the flooring. Upon this three beds were 
 spread, each occupied by three boys. Those who 
 could not be accommodated in this way laid on tne 
 carpet. Some of the boys were already asleep ; iwo 
 were smoking, and conversing in a low voice. Look- 
 ing about him Ben recognized acquaintances in 
 several of them.* 
 
 "Is that you, Mike Sweeny?" he asked of a boy 
 stretched out on the nearest bed. 
 
 " Yes," said Mike ; " come and lay alongside of 
 me." 
 
 There was no room on the bed, but Ben found 
 space beside it on the carpet, and accordingly 
 stretched himself out. 
 
 * The description of the room under the wharf, and the circumstan- 
 eec of its occupation by a company of street boys, are not imaginary. 
 It was finally discovered, and broken up by the police, the details 
 being given, at the time, in the daily papers, as some of my New York 
 readers will remember. Discovery did not take place, however, until 
 it had been occupied some time. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 173 
 
 '* How do you like it ? " asked Mike. 
 
 "Tip-top," said Ben. "How'd you get the car- 
 pei and beds? Did you buy 'em?" 
 
 '* Fes," said Mike, with a wink ; " but the man 
 wasn't in, and we didn't pay for 'em." 
 
 " You stole them, then? " 
 
 "TV* took 'em," said Mike, who had an objection 
 to the \v*j.td stole. 
 
 did you get them down here without the 
 
 copp sGin' you?" 
 
 "We \id 'em away in the daytime, and didn't 
 bring 'e*a here till night. We came near gettin* 
 caught." 
 
 " How long have you been down here ? " 
 
 " Most a month." 
 
 " It's a good place." 
 
 " Yes," said Mike, " and the rent is very reason 
 able. We don't have to pay nothin' for lodgin'. It's 
 cheaper'n the Lodge." 
 
 "That's so," said Ben. "I'm sleepy," he said, 
 gaping. "I've been to the Old Bowery to-night 
 Good-night 1" 
 
174 BEN, THE LUGGAGE EOT; OJl, 
 
 " C^ood-night ! " 
 
 In five minutes Ben was fast asleep. Half an houi 
 ater, and not a sound was heard in the room under 
 the wharf except the occasional deep breathing of 
 some of the boys. The policeman who trod his beat 
 near by little suspected that just at hand, and almost 
 under his feet, was a rendezvous of street vagrants 
 and juvenile thieves, for such I am sorry to say was 
 the character of some of the boys who frequented 
 these cheap lodgings. 
 
 In addition to the articles already described there 
 were two or three chairs, which had been contributed 
 by different members of the organization. 
 
 Ben slept soundly through the night. When he 
 woke up, the gray morning light entering from the 
 open front towards the sea had already lighted up 
 indistinctly the space between the floors. Two or 
 three of the boys were already sitting up, yawning 
 and stretching themselves after their night's slumber. 
 Among these was Mike Sweeny. 
 
 " Are you awake, Ben ? " he asked. 
 
 * Yes/' said Ben ; " I didn't hardly know where 
 I was at first." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 175 
 
 " It's a bully place, isn't it?" 
 
 " That's so. How'd you come across it ? " 
 
 " Oh, some of us boys found it out. We've been 
 leepin' here a month." 
 
 " Won't you let a feller in? " 
 
 " We might let you in. I'll speak to the boys." 
 
 " Td like to sleep here," said Ben. " It's a good 
 deal better than sleepin* out round. Who runs th 
 hotel?" 
 
 " Well, I'm one of 'em." 
 
 44 You might call it Sweeny's Hotel," suggested 
 Ben, laughing. 
 
 " I aint the boss ; Jim Bagley's got most to do with 
 it." 
 
 "Which is he?" 
 
 " That's he, over on the next bed." 
 
 "What does he do?" 
 
 " He's a travellin' match merchant." 
 
 " That sounds big." 
 
 " Jim's smart, he is. He makes more money'n 
 any of us." 
 
 " Where does he travel? " 
 . " Once he went to Californy in the steamer. He 
 
176 BEN, THE LUGGAGE SOT; OR, 
 
 got a steerage ticket for seventy-five dollars ; but he 
 made more'n that blackin' boots for the other passen- 
 gers afore they got there. He stayed there three 
 months, and then came home." 
 
 " Does he travel now? " 
 
 " Yes, he buys a lot of matches, and goes up the 
 river or down into Jersey, and is gone a week. A 
 little while ago he went to Buffalo." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I know where that is." 
 
 " Blest if I d*." 
 
 " It's in the western part of York State, just 
 across from Canada." 
 
 "Who told you?" 
 
 " I learned it in school." 
 
 " I didn't know you was a scholar, Ben." 
 
 " I aint now. I've forgot most all I ever knew. I 
 haven't been to school since I was ten years old." 
 
 "Where was that?" 
 
 " In the country." 
 
 u Well, I never went to school more'n a few weeks. 
 I can read a little, but not much." 
 
 " It costs a good deal to go to Buffalo. How di 3 
 Jim make it while he was gone ? " 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 17T 
 
 " Oh, he came home with ten dollars in his nocket 
 besides payin' his expenses." 
 " What does Jim do with all his money? " 
 "He's got a mother and sister up in Bleeckei 
 Street, or somewheres round there. He pays hi* 
 mother five dollars a week, besides takin' care of 
 himself." 
 
 " Why don't he live with his mother ? " 
 " He'd rather be round with the boys." 
 I may remark here that Jim Bagley is a real char- 
 acter, and all that has been said about him is derived 
 from information given by himself, in a conversation 
 held with him at the Newsboys' Lodging House. He 
 figures here, however, under an assumed name, partly 
 because the record in which his real name is pre- 
 served has been mislaid. The impression made upon 
 the mind of the writer was, that Jim had unusual 
 business ability and self-reliance, and might possibly 
 develop into a successful and prosperous man of 
 business. 
 
 Jim by this time was awake. 
 " Jim Bagley," said Mike, " here'a * feller wouW 
 
 like to put up at our hotel." 
 12 
 
178 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; O1Z, 
 
 " Who is he?" asked Jim. 
 
 The travelling match merchant, as Mike had d& 
 ecribed him, was a boy of fifteen, rather small of his 
 age, with a keen black eye, and a quick, decided, busi- 
 ness-like way. 
 
 " It's this feller, he's a baggage-smasher," ex- 
 plained Mike. 
 
 " All right," said Jim ; " he can come if he'll pay 
 his share." 
 
 " How much is it? " asked Ben. 
 
 Mike explained that it was expected of each guest 
 to bring something that would add to the comforts of 
 the rendezvous. Two boys had contributed the car- 
 pet, for which probably they had paid nothing ; Jim 
 had supplied a bed, for which he did pay, as " taking 
 things without leave" was not in his line. Three 
 boys had each contribu ted a chair. Thus all the arti- 
 cles which had been accumulated were individual 
 contributions. Ben promised to pay his admission fee 
 in the same way, but expressed a doubt whether 
 he might not have to wait a few days, in order to 
 save money enough to make a purchase. He never 
 stole himself, though his association with street boys f 
 
AMONO THE WHARVES. 179 
 
 whose principles are not always very strict on this 
 point, had accustomed him to regard theft as a venial 
 fault, provided it was not found out. For his own 
 part, however, he did not care to run the v isk of 
 detection. Though he had cut himself off from his 
 old home, he still felt that he should not like to have 
 the report reach home that he had been convicted of 
 dishonesty. 
 
 At an early hour the boys shook off their slumbers, 
 and one by one left the wharf to enter upon their 
 daily work. The newsboys were the first to go, as 
 they must be on hand at the newspaper offices early 
 to get their supply of papers, and fold them in readi- 
 ness for early customers. The boot-blacks soon fol- 
 lowed, as most of them were under the necessity of 
 earning their breakfast before they ate it. Ben also 
 got up early, and made his way to the pier of the 
 Stoningtoii line of steamers from Boston. These 
 usually arrived at an early hour, and there wa<s a good 
 chance of a job in Ben's line when the passengers 
 landed. 
 
180 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; 0JT, 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 BEN, MEETS AN OLD FRIEND. 
 
 BEN had about half an hour to wait for the arrival 
 of the steamer. Among the passengers who crossed 
 the plank from the steamer to the pier was a gentle- 
 man of middle age, and a boy about a year younger 
 than Ben. The boy had a carpet-bag in his hand ; 
 the father, for such appeared to be the relationship, 
 carried a heavy valise, besides a small bundle. 
 
 " Want your baggage carried ? " asked Ben, vary- 
 ing his usual address. 
 
 The gentleman hesitated a moment. 
 
 " You'd better let him take it, father," said the 
 boy. 
 
 " Very well, you may take this ; '* and the valise 
 was passed over to Ben. 
 
 " Give me the bag too," said Ben, addressing tht 
 boy. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 181 
 
 " No, ril take that. You'll have all you want to 
 do, in carrying the valise." 
 
 They crossed the street, and here the gentleman 
 stood still, evidently undecided about something. 
 
 " What are you thinking about, father ? " 
 
 " I was thinking," the gentleman said, after a slight 
 pause, " what I had better do." 
 
 "About what?" 
 
 *' I have two or three errands in the lower part of 
 the city, which, as my time is limited, I should lik* 
 to attend to at once." 
 
 " You had better do it, then." 
 
 " What I was thinking was, that it would not be 
 worth while for you to go round with me, carrying 
 the baggage." 
 
 " Couldn't I go right up to Cousin Mary's?" asked 
 his son. 
 
 " I am afraid you might lose the way." 
 
 " This boy will go with me. I suppose he knowa 
 the way all about the city. Don't you?" he asked, 
 turning to Ben. 
 
 " Where do you want to go?" asked Ben, 
 
 44 To No. Madison Avenue." 
 
182 JBEff, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OJS, 
 
 " Yes, I can show you the way there well enough , 
 but it's a good way off." 
 
 " You can both take the cars or stage when you 
 get up to the Astor House." 
 
 " How will that do?" asked Charles, for this was 
 his name. 
 
 " I think that will be the best plan. This boy can 
 go with you, and you can settle with him for his ser- 
 vices. Have you got money enough ? " 
 
 "Yes, plenty." 
 
 " I will leave you here, then." 
 
 Left to themselves, it was natural that the two 
 boys should grow social. So far as clothing went, 
 there was certainly a wide difference between them. 
 Ben was attired as described in the first chapter. 
 Charles, on the other hand, wore a short sack of dark 
 cloth, a white vest, and gray pants. A gold chain, 
 depending from his watch-pocket, showed that he 
 was the possessor of a watch. His whole appearance 
 was marked by neatness and good taste. But, leav- 
 ing out this difference, a keen observer might detect 
 a considerable resemblance in the features of the two 
 boys. Both had dark hair, black eyes, and the con* 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 183 
 
 tour of the face was the same. I regret to add, how- 
 ever, that Ben's face was not so clean as it ought to 
 have been. Among the articles contributed by the 
 boys who lived in the room under the wharf, a wash- 
 stand had not been considered necessary, and it had 
 been long since Ben had regarded washing the face 
 and hands as the first preparation for the labors of 
 the day. 
 
 Charles Marston looked at his companion with 
 gome interest and curiosity. He had never lived in 
 New York, and there was a freshness and novelty 
 about life in the metropolis that was attractive to him. 
 
 "Is this your business?" he asked. 
 
 u What, smashin' baggage? " inquired Ben. 
 
 " Is that what you call it? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, is that what you do for a living? " 
 
 " Yes," said Ben. " It's my profession, when 1 
 aint attendin' to my duties as a member of the Com- 
 mon Council." 
 
 " So you're a member of th3 city government?" 
 asked Charles, amused. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
184 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OU, 
 
 " Do you have much to do that way ? " 
 
 "I'm one of the Committee on Wharves," said 
 Ben. " It's my business to see that they're right 
 side up with care ; likewise that nobody runs away 
 with them in the night." 
 
 " How do you get paid ? " 
 
 " Well, I earn my lodgin* that way just now," said 
 Ben. 
 
 " Have you always been in this business ? " 
 
 " No. Sometimes I've sold papers." 
 
 " How did you like that ? " 
 
 " I like baggage-smashin' best, when I get enough 
 to do. You don't live in the city, do you ? " 
 
 " No, I live just out of Boston, a few miles." 
 
 " Ever been in New York before? " 
 
 " Once, That was four years ago. I passed 
 through on the way from Pennsylvania, where I used 
 to live." 
 
 "Pennsylvania," repeated Ben, beginning to be 
 interested. " Whereabouts did you live there, in 
 Philadelphy?" 
 
 "No, a little way from there, in a small town 
 named Cedarville." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 183 
 
 Ben started, and he nearly let fall the valise from 
 his hand. 
 
 "What's the matter?" asked Charles. 
 
 u I came near fallin'," said Ben, a little confused 
 "What's your name?" he asked, rather abruptly. 
 
 " Charles Marston." 
 
 Ben scanned intently the face of his companion. 
 He had good reason to do so, for though Charles 
 little suspected that there was any relationship 
 between himself and the ragged and dirty boy who 
 carried his valise, the two were own cousins, 
 They had been schoolmates in Cedarville, and 
 passed many a merry hour together in boyish sport 
 In fact Charles had been Ben's favorite playmate, 
 as well as cousin, and man}'- a time, when he lay 
 awake in such chance lodgings as the street 
 provided, he had thought of his cousin, and wished 
 that he might meet him again. Now they had met 
 most strangely ; no longer on terms of equality, but 
 one with all the outward appearance of a young 
 gentleman, the other, a ragged and ignorant 
 street boy. Ben's heart throbbed prr.Mly when 
 he saw thftt his cousin regarded him *& * stranger, 
 
186 BEN, THJS LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 and fo:: the first time in a long while he felt ashamed 
 of his position. He would not for the world have 
 revealed himself to Charles in his present situation ; 
 yet he felt a strong desire to learn whether he was 
 still lemembered. How to effect this without 
 betraying his identity he hardly knew ; at length 
 he thought of a way that might lead to it. 
 
 " My name's shorter'n yours," he said. 
 
 " What is it? " asked Charles. 
 
 "It's Ben." 
 
 44 That stands for Benjamin ; so yours is- the 
 longest aftei all." 
 
 " That's so, I never thought of that. Everybody 
 calls me Ben." 
 
 u What's your other name?" 
 
 Ben hesitated. If he said "Brandon" he would 
 be discovered, and his pride stood in the way of 
 that. Finally he determined to give a false name ; 
 so he answered after a slight pause, which Charles 
 did not notice, "My other name is Hooper, Ben 
 Hooper. Didn't you ever know anybody of my 
 name?" 
 
 " What, Ben Hooper ? " 
 
AMCNQ THIS WHARVES. 187 
 
 " No, Ben." 
 
 44 Yes. I had a cousin named Ben." 
 
 "Is he as old as you?" asked Ben, striving to 
 speak carelessly. 
 
 " He is older if he is living ; but I don't think he 
 is living." 
 
 44 Why, don't you know? " 
 
 44 He ran away from home when he was ten yean 
 old, and we have never seen him since." 
 
 44 Didn't he write where he had gone?" 
 
 4 'He wrote one letter to his mother, but he 
 didn't say where he was. That is the last any of 
 us beard from him." 
 
 "What sort of a chap was he?" inquired Ben. 
 44 He was ft bad un, wasn't he ? " 
 
 44 No, Ben wasn't a bad boy. He had a quick 
 temper though ; but whenever he was angry he 
 soun got over it." 
 
 44 What made him run away from home ? " 
 
 44 His father punished him for something he 
 didn't do. He found it out afterwards ; but he is a 
 stern man, and he never says anything about him. 
 But I guess he feels bad sometimes. Fathfci says 
 
188 *>, uVtfc LUGGAGE OT ; OR, 
 
 he has ^iown eld very fast since my cousin ran 
 away." 
 
 a ls bis mother living, your aunt?" Ben in- 
 quired, drawn on by an impulse he could not 
 resist. 
 
 "Yes, but she is always sad; she has never 
 slopped mourning for Ben." 
 
 " Did you like your cousin ? " Ben asked, looking 
 wistfully in the face of his companion. 
 
 "Yes, he was my favorite cousin. Poor Ben 
 and I were always together. I wish I knew whether 
 he were alive or not." 
 
 " Perhaps you will see him again some time." 
 
 "I don't know. I used to think so; but I have 
 about given up hopes of it. Ib is six years now 
 since he ran away." 
 
 " Maybe he's turned bad," said Ben. " S'posin* 
 ie was a ragged baggage-smasher like me, you 
 wouldn't care about seein' him, would you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I would," said Charles, warmly. " I'd be 
 glad to see Ben again, no matter how he looked, or 
 how poor he might be." 
 
 Ben looked at his cousin with a glance of wistful 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 89 
 
 affection. Street boy as he was, old memories 
 had been awakened, and his heart had been 
 touched by the sight of the cousin whom he had 
 most loved when a young boy. 
 
 " And I might be like him," thought Ben, looking 
 askance at the rags in which he was dressed, 
 "instead of a walkin* rag-bag. I wish I was;" 
 und he suppressed a sigh. 
 
 It has been said that street boys are not acces- 
 sible to the softer emotions ; but Ben did long to 
 throw his arm round his cousin's neck in the old, 
 affectionate way of six years since. It touched 
 him to think that Charlie held him in affectionate 
 remembrance. But his thoughts were diverted by 
 noticing that they had reached the Astor House. 
 
 " I guess we'd better cross the street, and take 
 the Fourth Avenue cars," he said. " There's one 
 over there." 
 
 "All right I " said Charles. "I suppose you 
 know best." 
 
 There was a car just starting; they succeeded 
 in getting aboard, and were speedily on their 
 up town. 
 
190 BXN) THE LUGGAGE EOT; 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 BEN FOKMS A RESOLUTION. 
 
 "Doss this cargo up Madison Avenue?" asked 
 Charles, after they had taken their seats. 
 
 44 No," said Ben, " it goes up Fourth Avenue ; 
 but that's only one block away from Madison 
 We'll get out at Thirtieth Street." 
 
 " I'm glad you're with me ; I might have a hard 
 time finding the place if I were alone." 
 
 " Are you going to stay in the city long?" 
 asked Ben. 
 
 u Yes, I am going to school here. Father is 
 going to move here soon. Until he comes I shall 
 stay with my Cousin Mary." 
 
 Ben felt quite sure that this must be his older 
 Bister, but did not like to ask. 
 
 " Is she married?" 
 
 " Yes, it is the sister of my Cousin Ben. About 
 two years ago she married a New York gentleman, 
 
AMOXG THE WHARVES. I9l 
 
 He is a broker, and has an office in Wall Street. 
 I suppose he's rich." 
 
 "What's his name?" asked Ben. " Maybe I've 
 seen his office." 
 
 "It is Abercrombie, James Abercrombie. Did 
 you ever hear that name ? " 
 
 44 No," answered Ben, "I can't say as I have. He 
 ftint the broker that does my business." 
 
 "Have you much business for a broker?" asked 
 Charles, laughing. 
 
 " I do a smashin' business in Erie and New York 
 Central," answered Ben. 
 
 "You are in the same business as the railroads," 
 said Charles. 
 
 "How is that?" 
 
 " You are both baggage-smashers." 
 
 " That's so ; only I don't charge so much for 
 smashin' baggage as they do." 
 
 They were on Centre Street now, and a stone 
 building with massive stone columns came in view. 
 on the west side of the street. 
 
 " What building is that?" asked Charles. 
 
192 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 " That's a hotel, where they lodge people free 
 gratis." 
 
 Charles looked at his companion for information. 
 
 " It's the Tombs," said Ben. " It aint so popular, 
 though, as the hotels where they charge higher." 
 
 " No, I suppose not. It looks gloomy enough." 
 
 " It aint very cheerful," said Ben. " I never put 
 up there, but that's what people say that hy 
 enjoyed that privilege." 
 
 " Where is the Bowery?" 
 
 " We'll soon be in it. We turn off Centre Street 
 a little farther up." 
 
 Charles was interested in all that he saw. The 
 broad avenue which is known as the Bowery, with its 
 long line of shops on either side, and the liberal dis- 
 play of goods on the sidewalk, attracted his attention, 
 and he had numerous questions to ask, most of which 
 Ben was able to answer. He had not knocked about 
 the streets of New York six years for nothing. Hia 
 business had carried him to all parts of the city, and 
 he had acquired a large amouat of local information, 
 a part of which he retailed now to his cousin as tiuay 
 rode side by side in the horse-cars. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 193 
 
 At length they reached Thirtieth "Street, and here 
 they got out. At the distance of ons block they 
 found Madison Avenue. Examining the numbers, 
 they readily found the house of which they were in 
 Bearch. It was a handsome four-story house, with a 
 brown-stone front. 
 
 " This must be Mr. Abercrombie's house," said 
 Charles. " I didn't think Cousin Mary lived in sucb 
 a nice place." 
 
 Ben surveyed the house with mingled emotions. 
 He could not help contrasting his own forlorn, neg- 
 lected condition with the position of his sister. She 
 lived in an elegant home, enjoying, no doubt, all the 
 advantages which money could procure ; while he, 
 her only brother, walked about the streets in rags, 
 sleeping in any out-of-the-way corner. But he could 
 blame no one for it. It had been his own choice, 
 and until this morning he had been well enough con- 
 tented with it. But all at once a glimpse had been 
 given him of what might have been his lot had he 
 been lens influenced by pride and waywardness, anct 
 by the light of this new prospect he saw how little 
 
 hope there was of achieving any decent position ii 
 13 
 
"94 BEN) THE LUGGAGE BO1 ; OJJ, 
 
 society if he remained in his present occupation. 
 But what could he do ? Should he declare himself at 
 once to his cousin, and his sister ? Pride would not 
 permit him to do it. He was not willing to let them 
 see him in his ragged and dirty state. He deter- 
 mined to work and save up money, until he could 
 purchase a suit as handsome as that which his cousin 
 wore. Then he would not be ashamed to present 
 himself, so far as his outward appearance went. 
 He knew very well that he was ignorant ; but he mast 
 trust to the future to remedy that deficiency. It 
 would be a work of time, as he well knew. Mean- 
 while he had his cousin's assurance that he would be 
 glad to meet him again, and renew the old, affection- 
 ate intimacy which formerly existed between them. 
 
 While these thoughts were passing through Ben's 
 mind, as I have said, they reached the house. 
 
 "Have you had any breakfast?" asked Chariest 
 as they ascended the steps. 
 
 " Not yet," answered Ben. " It isn't fashionable 
 to take breakfast early." 
 
 ' Then you must come in. My cousin will 
 you some breakfast." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 195 
 
 Ben hesitated ; but finally decided to accept the in- 
 citation. He had two reasons for this. Partly 
 because it would give him an opportunity to see nis 
 sister ; and, secondly, because it would save him the 
 ixpense of buying his breakfast elsewhere, and that 
 was a consideration, now that he had a special object 
 for saving money. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Abercrombie at home ? " asked Charles of 
 the servant who answered his summons. 
 
 " Ye, sir ; who shall I say is here ? " 
 
 "Her cousin, Charles Montrose." 
 
 " Will you walk into the parlor ? " said the servant, 
 opening a door at the side of the hall. She looked 
 doubtfully at Ben, who had also entered the house. 
 
 " Sit down here, Ben," said Charles, indicating a 
 chair on one side of the hat-stand. " I'll stop here 
 till Mrs. Abercrombie comes down," he said. 
 
 Soon a light step was heard on the stairs, and Mrs. 
 Abercrombie descended the staircase. She is the 
 same that we last saw in the modest house in the 
 Pennsylvania village ; but the lapse of time has 
 softened her manners, and the influence of a husband 
 
196 ARY, THE LUGGAGE BOY ; O/Z, 
 
 and a home have improved her. But otherwise sh 
 has not greatly changed in her looks. 
 
 Ben, who examined her face eagerly, recognized 
 her at once. Yes, it was his sister Mary that stood 
 oefore him. He would have known her anywhere. 
 But there was a special mark by which he remem- 
 bered her. There was a dent in her cheek just below 
 tbe temple, the existence of which he could account 
 for. In a fit of boyish passion, occasioned by her 
 tensing him, he had flung a stick of wood at her head, 
 and this had led to the mark. 
 
 44 Where did you come from, Charles?" she said, 
 giving her hand cordially to her young cousin. 
 
 u From Boston, Cousin Mary." 
 
 u Have you just arrived, and where is your father? 
 Yod did not come on alone, did you ? " 
 
 " No, father is with me, or rather he came on with 
 me, but he had some errands down town, and stopped 
 to attend to them. He will be here soon." 
 
 " How did you find the way alone ? " 
 
 " I was not alone. There is my guide. By the 
 iray, I told him to stay, and you would give hia 
 ome breakfast." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 197 
 
 " Certainly, he can go down in the basement, and 
 the servants will give him something." 
 
 Mrs. Abercrombie looked at Ben as she spOKe ; but 
 on her part there was no sign of recognition. This 
 was not strange. A boy changes greatly between 
 ten and sixteen years of age, and when to this natu- 
 ral change is added the great change in Ben's dress, 
 it will not be wondered at that his sister saw in him 
 only an ordinary street boy. 
 
 Ben was relieved to find that he was not known. 
 He had felt afraid that something in his looks might 
 remind his sister of her lost brother ; but the indif- 
 ferent look which she turned upon him proved that 
 he had no ground for this fear. 
 
 " You have not breakfasted, I suppose, Charles/ 
 said his cousin. 
 
 " You wouldn't think so, if you knew what ai 
 appetite I have," he answered, laughing. 
 
 " We will do our best to spoil it," said Mrs. Aber- 
 crombie. 
 
 She rang the bell, and ordered breakfast to b 
 *erved. 
 
 " We are a little late this morning," she said 
 
198 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OA, 
 
 "Mr. Abercrombie is in Philadelphia on business ; 
 so you won't see him till to-morrow." 
 
 When the servant appeared, Mrs. Abercrombie 
 directed her to take Ben downstairs, and give him 
 something to eat. 
 
 " Don't go away till I see you, Ben," said Charles, 
 lingering a little. 
 
 " All right," said Ben. 
 
 He followed the servant down the stairs leading to 
 the basement. On the way, he had a glimpse 
 through the half-open door of the breakfast-table, 
 at which his sister and his cousin were shortly to sit 
 down. 
 
 " Some time, perhaps, I shall be invited in there," 
 he said to himself. 
 
 But at present he had no such wish. He knew 
 that in his ragged garb he would be out of place in 
 the handsome breakfast-room, and he preferred to 
 wait until his appearance was improved. He had no 
 fault to find with the servants, who brought him a 
 bountiful supply of oeefsteak and bread and butter, 
 and a cup of excellent coffee. Ben had been up long 
 nough to have quite an appetite. Besides, the 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 
 
 quality of the breakfast was considerably superior 
 to those which he was accustomed to take in the 
 cheap restaurants which he frequented, and he did 
 full justice to the food that was spread before him. 
 
 When he had satisfied his appetite, he had a few 
 minutes to wait before Charles came down to speak 
 to him. 
 
 " Well, Ben, I hope you had a good breakfast," he 
 said. 
 
 " Tip-top," answered Ben. 
 
 " And I hope also that you had an appetite equal 
 to mine." 
 
 "My appetite don't often give out," said Ben; 
 " but it aint so good now as it was when I came in." 
 
 "Now we have a little business to attend to. 
 How much shall I pay you for smashing my bag- 
 gage ? " Charles asked, with a laugh. 
 
 " Whatever you like." 
 
 " Well, here's fifty cents for your services, and six 
 cents for your car-fare back." 
 
 " Thank you," said Ben. 
 
 " Besides this, Mrs. Abercrombie has a note, which 
 she wants carried down town to her husband's offic 
 
200 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 in Wall Street. She will give you fifty cents more, 
 if you will agree to deliver it there at once, as it ia 
 of importance." 
 
 " All right," said Ben. " I'll do it." 
 
 " Here is the note. I suppose you had better start 
 with it at once. Good-morning." 
 
 " Good-morning," said Ben, as he held his cousin's 
 proffered hand a moment in his own. " Maybe I'll 
 eee you again some time." 
 
 " I hope so," said Charles, kindly. 
 
 A minute later Ben was on his way to t&ks a 
 Fourth Avenue car down town. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES* 201 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 LUCK AND ILL LUCK. 
 
 '* THAT will do very well for a beginning," thought 
 Ben, as he surveyed, with satisfaction, the two half 
 dollars which he had received for his morning's ser- 
 vices. He determined to save one of them towards 
 the fund which he hoped to accumulate for the object 
 which he had in view. How much he would need he 
 could not decide ; but thought that it would be safe 
 to> set the amount at fifty dollars. This would 
 doubtless require a considerable time to obtain. He 
 could not expect to be so fortunate every day as he 
 laad been this morning.- Some days, no doubt, he 
 would barely earn enough to pay expenses. Still he 
 had made a beginning, and this was something 
 gained. It was still more encouraging that he had 
 determined to save money, and had an inducement to 
 do so. 
 
 As Ben rode down town in the horse-cars, kit 
 
202 BEN, THE LUGGAGE OJ ; 07Z, 
 
 thought of the six years which he had spent as a 
 New York street boy ; and he could not help feeling 
 that the time had been wasted, so far as any progress 
 or improvement was concerned. Of books he knew 
 less than when he first came to the city. He kne^ 
 more of life, indeed, but not the best side of life. 
 He had formed some bad habits, from which he 
 would probably have been saved if he had remained 
 at home. Ben realized all at once how much he had 
 lost by his hasty action in leaving home. He re- 
 garded his street life with different eyes, and felt 
 ready to give it up, as soon as he could present him- 
 self to his parents without too great a sacrifice of hia 
 pride. 
 
 At the end of half an hour, Ben found himself at 
 the termination of the car route, opposite the lower 
 end of the City Hall Park. 
 
 As the letter which he had to deliver was to be 
 carried to Wall Street, he kept on down Broadway 
 till he reached Trinity Church, and then turned into 
 the street opposite. He quickly found the number 
 indicated, and entered Mr. Abercrombie's office. It 
 
AMONG THE WSARVES. 208 
 
 was a handsome office on the lower floor. Two 01 
 three clerks were at work at their desks. 
 
 " So this is my brother-in-law's office," thought 
 Ben. " It's rather better than mine." 
 
 "Well, young man, what can I do for you to- 
 day f" inquired a clerk, in a tone which indicated 
 that he thought Ben had got into the wrong shop. 
 
 u You can tell me whether your name is Samp- 
 son," answered Ben, coolly. 
 
 " No, it isn't." 
 
 " That's what I thought." 
 
 " Suppose I am not ; what then? " 
 
 "Then the letter I've got isn't for you, that'i 
 all." 
 
 " So you've got a letter, have you? " 
 
 "That's what I said." 
 
 "It seems to me you're mighty independent," 
 sneered the clerk, who felt aggrieved that Ben did 
 not show him the respect which he conceived to be 
 his due. 
 
 " Thank you for the compliment," said Ben, bow 
 ing 
 
 STou can hand me the letter." 
 
204 BEN, THE LUGGAGE SOY; UR, 
 
 " I thought your name wasn't Sampson." 
 
 " I'll hand it to Mr. Sampson. He's gone out a 
 moment. He'll be in directly." 
 
 " Much obliged," said Ben ; " but I'd rather hand 
 it to Mr. Sampson myself. Business aint particu- 
 larly pressin' this mornin', so, if you'll hand me the 
 mornin' paper, I'll read till he comes." 
 
 " Well, you've got cheek," ejaculated the clerk. 
 
 "I've got two of 'em if I counted right when I 
 got up," said Ben. 
 
 Here there was a laugh from the other two clerks. 
 
 " He's too smart for you, Granby," said one, 
 
 " He's impudent enough," muttered the first, as he 
 withdrew discomfited to his desk. 
 
 The enemy having retreated, Ben sat down in 
 an arm-chair, and, picking up a paper, began to read. 
 
 He had not long to wait. Five minutes had 
 scarcely passed when a man of middle age entered 
 the office. His manner showed that he belonged 
 there. 
 
 " If you're Mr. Sampson," said Ben, approaching 
 him, " here is a letter for you." 
 
AMONG THE WQAPVES. 205 
 
 " That is my name," said the gentleman, opening 
 the note at once. 
 
 " You come from Mrs. Abercrombie," he said, 
 glancing at Ben, as he finished reading it. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Ben. 
 
 "How did she happen to select you as her mes- 
 senger?" 
 
 *' I went up there this morning to carry a valise." 
 * I have a great mind to send you back to her with 
 s Answer ; but I hesitate on one account." 
 
 " What is that?" asked Ben. 
 
 " I don't know whether you can be trusted." 
 
 " Nor I," said Ben ; " but I'm willin' to run the risk." 
 
 " No doubt," said Mr. Sampson, smiling ; " but 
 it seems to me that I should run a greater risk 
 ttian you." 
 
 " I don't know about that," answered Ben. " If 
 it's money, and I keep it, you can send the copps after 
 me, and I'll be sent to the Island. That would be 
 worse than losing money." 
 
 " That's true ; but some of you boys don't mind 
 that. However, I am inclined to trust you. Mrs. 
 Abercrombie asks for a sum of money, and wishes 
 
206 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OB, 
 
 me to send it up by one of the clerks. That 1 
 cannot very well do, as we are particularly busy this 
 morning. I will put the money in an envelope, and 
 give it to you to deliver. I will tell you beforehand 
 that it is fifty dollars/' 
 
 " Very good," said Ben ; " Til give it to her." 
 
 " Wait a moment." 
 
 Mr. Sampson went behind the desk, and reap- 
 peared almost directly. 
 
 "Mrs. Abercrombie will give you a line to me, 
 stating that she has received the money. When you 
 return with this, I will pay you for your trouble." 
 
 " All right," said Ben. 
 
 As he left the office the young clerk first men- 
 tioned said, " I am afraid, Mr. Sampson, Mrs. Aber- 
 crombie will never see that money." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " The boy will keep it." 
 
 " What makes you think so?" 
 
 " He's one of the most impudent young rascals 
 I ever saw." 
 
 " I didn't form that opinion. He was respectful 
 cnougn to me." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 207 
 
 " lie wasn't to me." 
 
 Mr. Sampson smiled a little. He had observed 
 young Granby's assumption of importance, and partly 
 guessed how matters stood. 
 
 " It's too late to recall him," he said. " I must 
 run the risk. My own opinion is that he will prove 
 faithful." 
 
 Ben had accepted the commission gladly, not alone 
 because he would get extra pay for the additional 
 errand, but because he saw that there was some hesi 
 tation in the mind of Mr. Sampson about trusting 
 him, and he meant to show himself worthy of confl. 
 dence. There were fifty dollars in the envelope. He 
 had never before been trusted with that amount of 
 money, and now it was rather because no other 
 messenger could be conveniently sent that he found 
 himself so trusted. Not a thought of appropriating 
 the money came to Ben. True, it occurred to him 
 that this was precisely the sum which he needed to 
 fit him out respectably. But there would be greater 
 cause for shame if he appeared well dressed on stolen 
 TOoney, than if he should present himself in rags 
 to his sister. However, it is only just to Ben to 
 
208 Bay, THE LUGGAGE SOT; os r 
 
 say that had the party to whom he was sent been dif 
 fereut, he would have discharged his commission hon 
 orably. Not that he was a model boy, but his pride, 
 which was in some respects a fault with him, here 
 served him in good stead, as it made him ashamed to 
 do a dishonest act. 
 
 Ben rightly judged that the money would be 
 needed as soon as possible, and, as the distance 
 was great, he resolved to ride, trusting to Mr. 
 Sampson's liberality to pay him for the expense 
 which he would thus incur in addition to the com- 
 pensation allowed for his services. 
 
 He once more made his way to the station of 
 the Fourth Avenue cars, and jumped aboard one just 
 ready to start. 
 
 The car gradually filled, and they commenced their 
 progress up town. 
 
 Ben took a seat in the corner next to the door. 
 Next to him was a man with black hair and black 
 whiskers. He wore a tall felt hat with a bell crown, 
 and a long cloak. Ben took no particular notice 
 of him, being too much in the habit of seeing strange 
 fiwx;s to observe them minutely. The letter he put in 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 20$ 
 
 the side pocket of his coat, on the side nearest the 
 stranger. He took it out <>nce to look at it. It was 
 addressed to Mrs. Abercrombie, at her residence, 
 and in one corner Mr. Sampson had written " Money 
 enclosed." 
 
 Now it chanced, though Ben did not suspect it, 
 that the man at his side was a member of the swell 
 mob, and his main business was picking pockets. 
 He observed the two words, already quoted, on the 
 envelope when Ben took it in his hand, and he made 
 up his mind to get possession of it. This was com- 
 paratively easy, for Ben's pocket was on the side 
 towards him. Our hero was rather careless, it must 
 be owned, but it happened that the inside pocket 
 of his coat had been torn away, which left him no 
 other receptacle for the letter. Besides, Ben had never 
 been in a situation to have much fear of pick 
 pockets, and under ordinary circumstances he would 
 hardly have been selected as worth plundering. But 
 the discovery that the letter contained money altered 
 the case. 
 
 While Ben was looking out from the opposite win* 
 
 dow across the street, the stranger dexterously In- 
 H 
 
210 BEN) THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 serted Ms hand in his pocket, and withdrew the 
 letter. They were at that moment just opposite the 
 Tombs. 
 
 Having gained possession of the letter, of course 
 it was his interest to get out of the car as soon as 
 possible, since Ben was liable at any moment to dis- 
 cover his loss. 
 
 He touched the conductor, who was just returning 
 from the other end of the car, after collecting the 
 r ares. 
 
 " ril get out here," he said. 
 
 The conductor accordingly pulled the strap, and 
 the car stopped. 
 
 The stranger gathered his cloak about him, and, 
 stepping out on the platform, jumped from the car. 
 Just at that moment Ben put his hand into his 
 pocket, and instantly discovered the loss of the 
 letter. He immediately connected it with the de- 
 parture of his fellow-passenger, and, with a hasty 
 ejaculation, sprang from the car, and started in 
 pursuit of him. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 211 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 WHICH IS THE GUILTY PARTY! 
 
 IT was an exciting moment for Ben. H ttoft that 
 his character for honesty was at stake. In 6Ao the 
 pickpocket succeeded in getting off with the letter 
 and money, Mr. Sampson would no doubt come to 
 the conclusion that he had appropriated the fifty 
 dollars to his own use, while his story of the robbery 
 would be regarded as an impudent fabrication. He 
 might even be arrested, and sentenced to the Island 
 for theft. If this should happen, though he were 
 innocent, Ben felt that he should not be willing to 
 make himself known to his sister or his parents. 
 But there was a chance of getting back the money, 
 and he resolved to do his best. 
 
 The pickpocket turned down a side street, his 
 object being to get out of the range of observation aa 
 soon as possible. But one thing he did not antici- 
 pate, an/1 this was Ben's immediate discovery of hi 
 
212 BEN, THE LUGGAGE SOT; OR, 
 
 loss. On this subject he was soon enlightened. He 
 saw Ben jump from the horse-car, and his first im- 
 pulse was to run. He made a quick movement in 
 advance, and then paused. It occurred to him that 
 he occupied a position of advantage with regard to 
 his accuser, being respectably dressed, while Ben 
 was merely a ragged street boy, whose word probably 
 would not inspire much confidence. This vantage 
 ground he would give up by having recourse to 
 flight, as this would be a virtual acknowledgment 
 of guilt. He resolved instantaneously to assume an 
 attitude of conscious integrity, and frown down upon 
 Ben from the heights of assumed respectability. 
 There was one danger, however, that he was known 
 to some of the police force in his true character. 
 But he must take the risk of recognition. 
 
 On landing in the middle of the street, Ben lost no 
 time ; but, running up to the pickpocket, caught him 
 by the arm. 
 
 "What do you want, boy?" he demanded, in a 
 tone of indifference. 
 
 " I want my money," said Ben. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 213 
 
 " I don't understand you," said the pickpocket 
 loftily. 
 
 " Look aere, mister," said Ben, impatiently ; " you 
 know well enough what I mean. You took a letter 
 with money in it out of my pocket. Just hand it 
 back, and I won't say anything about it." 
 
 " You're an impudent young rascal," returned th 
 "gentleman," affecting to be outraged by such a 
 charge. " Do you dare to accuse a gentleman lik 
 me of robbing a ragmuffin like you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do," said Ben, boldly. 
 
 "Then you're either crazy or impudent, I don't 
 know which." 
 
 " Call me what you please ; but give me back my 
 money." 
 
 44 1 don't believe you ever had five dollars in your 
 possession. How much do you mean to say there 
 was in this letter?" 
 
 " Fifty dollars," answered Ben. 
 
 The pickpocket had an object in asking this quea 
 tion , He wanted to learn whether the sum of money 
 was sufficient to make it worth his while to keep it 
 Had :** been three or four dollars, he might have 
 
214 BEN) THE LUGGAGE EOT; OJS, 
 
 given it up, to avoid risk and trouble. But on find- 
 ing that it was fifty dollars he determined to hold on 
 to it at all hazards. 
 
 " Clear out, boy," he said, fiercely. " I shan't 
 stand any of your impudence." 
 
 " Give me my money, then." 
 
 " If you don't stop that, I'll knock you down," 
 repeated the pickpocket, shaking off Ben's grasp, 
 and moving forward rapidly. 
 
 If he expected to frighten our hero away thus 
 easily, he was very much mistaken. Ben had too 
 much at stake to give up the attempt to recover the 
 letter. He ran forward, and, seizing the man by the 
 arm, he reiterated, in a tone of firm determination, 
 *' Give me my money, or I'll call a copp." 
 
 " Take that, you young villain ! " exclaimed the 
 badgered thief, bringing his fist in contact with 
 Ben's face in such a manner as to cause the blood to 
 flow. 
 
 In a physical contest it was clear that Ben would 
 get the worst of it. He was but a boy of sixteen, 
 strong, indeed, of his age ; but still what could he 
 expect to accomplish against a tall man of mature 
 
AMONG THE WHAMVES. 215 
 
 ge ? He saw that he needed help, and he called out 
 4t the top of his lungs, " Help ! Police ! " 
 
 His antagonist was adroit, and a life spent in 
 eluding the law had made him quick-witted. He 
 turned the tables upon Ben by turning round, grasp- 
 ing him firmly by the arm, and repeating in a voice 
 louder than Ben's, " Help ! Police ! " 
 
 Contrary to the usual custom in such cases, a 
 policeman happened to be near, and hurried to th 
 pot where he was apparently wanted. 
 
 " What's the row? " he asked. 
 
 Before Ben had time to prefer his charge, th 
 pickpocket said glibly : 
 
 44 Policeman, I give this boy in charge." 
 
 " What's he been doing?" 
 
 "I caught him with his hand in my pocket," 
 said the man. " He's a thieving young vagabond." 
 
 " That's a lie I " exclaimed Ben, rather startled 
 at the unexpected turn which affairs had taken. 
 " He's A pickpocket." 
 
 The real culprit shrugged his shoulders. "You 
 tint quite smart enough, boy," he said. 
 
 * Has he taken anything of yours ? " asked the 
 
216 AJV, THE LUGGAGE SOT; OJt, 
 
 policeman, who supposed Ben to be what he wa 
 represented. 
 
 "No," said the pickpocket; "but he came near 
 taking a money letter which I have in my pocket." 
 
 Here, with astonishing effrontery, he displayed 
 the letter which he had stolen from Ben. 
 
 " That's my letter," said Ben. " He took it from 
 my pocket." 
 
 "A likely story," smiled the pickpocket, in 
 erene superiority. "The letter is for Mrs. Aber- 
 eronibie, a friend of mine, and contains fifty 
 dollars. I incautiously wrote upon the envelope 
 4 Money enclosed,' which attracted the attention 
 of this young vagabond, as I held it in my ha ad. 
 On replacing it in my pocket, he tried to get 
 possession of it." 
 
 " That's a lie from beginning to end," exclaimed 
 Ben, impetuously. "He's tryin* to make me out a 
 thief, when he's one himself." 
 
 " Well, what is your story ? " asked the policeman, 
 who, however, had already decided in his own 
 mind that Ben was the guilty party. 
 
 u 1 was ridin' in the Fourth Avenue cars along 
 
AMONG THE WHARYBS. 217 
 
 d<3 of this man," said Ben, u when he put his hand 
 in my pocket, and took out the letter that he's just 
 showed you. I jumped out after him, and asked 
 him to give it back, when he fetched me a lick in 
 the face." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that a ragamuffin like you 
 had fifty dollars? " demanded the thief. 
 
 " No," said Ben, " the money wasn't mine. 1 
 was carryin' it up to Mrs. Abercrombie, who liyei 
 on Madison Avenue." 
 
 "It's a likely story that a ragamuffin like yoq 
 would be trusted with so much money." 
 
 " If you don't believe it," said Ben, " go to Mr. 
 Abercrombie's office in Wall Street. Mr. Sampson 
 gave it to me only a few minutes ago. If he says 
 he didn't, just carry me to the station-house aa 
 quick as you want to." 
 
 This confident assertion of Ben's put matters in 
 rather a different light. It seemed straightforward, 
 and the reference might easily prove which was 
 the real culprit. The pickpocket saw that the 
 officer wavered, and rejoined hastily, "You must 
 
218 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY,' OJt, 
 
 expect the officer's a fool to believe your ridiculous 
 story." 
 
 "It's not so ridiculous," answered the policeman, 
 scrutinizing the speaker with sudden suspicion. " I 
 am not sure but the boy is right." 
 
 " I'm willing .to let the matter drop," said the 
 pickpocket, magnanimously; "as he didn't succeed 
 in getting my money, I will not prosecute. You 
 may let him go, Mr. Officer." 
 
 " Not so fast," said the policeman, his suspicions 
 of the other party getting stronger and more clearly 
 defined. "I haven't any authority to do as yon 
 say." 
 
 " Very well, take him along then. I suppose the 
 law must take its course." 
 
 " Yes, it must." 
 
 "Very well, boy, I'm sorry you've got into 
 such a scrape; but it's your own fault. Good 
 morning, officer." 
 
 " You're in too much of a hurry," said the police- 
 
 n, coolly ; " you must go along with me too." 
 
 'Really," said the thief, nervously, "I hope 
 you'll excuse me. I've got an important engage- 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES* 219 
 
 inent this morning, and I in fact it will bf 
 excessively inconvenient." 
 
 "I'm sorry to put you to inconvenience, but it 
 can't be helped." 
 
 " Really, Mr. Officer " 
 
 " It's no use. I shall need you. Oblige me bj 
 handing me that letter." 
 
 "Here it is," said the thief, unwillingly tor 
 rendering it. "Really, it's excessively provoking 
 I'd rather lose the money than break my engage* 
 ment. I'll promise to be on hand at the trial, 
 whenever it comes off; if you keep the money 
 it will be a guaranty of my appearance." 
 
 " I don't know about that," answered the officer 
 u As to being present at the trial, I mean that you 
 shall be." 
 
 " Of course, I promised that." 
 
 " There's one little matter you seem to forget,* 
 said the officer; "your appearance may be quit* 
 as necessary as the boy's. It may be youi trial 
 and not his." 
 
 " Do you mean to insult me ? " demanded th 
 pickpocket, haughtily. 
 
120 BEN) THE LUGGAGE BOY; OJR, 
 
 "Not by no manner of means. I aint the judge, 
 you know. If your story is all right, it'll appear 
 so." 
 
 " Of course ; but I shall have to break my en- 
 gagement." 
 
 "Well, that can't be helped as I see. Come 
 along, if you please." 
 
 He tucked one arm in that of the man, and the 
 other in Ben's, and moved towards the station- 
 house. Of the two Ben seemed to be much the 
 more unconcerned. He was confident that his 
 innocence would be proclaimed, while the other 
 was equally convinced that trouble awaited him. 
 
 " Well, boy, how do you like going to the 
 station-house ? " asked the policeman. 
 
 "I don't mind as long as he goes with me," 
 answered Ben. "What I was most afraid of was 
 that I'd lose the money, and then Mr. Sampson 
 would have taken me for a thief." 
 
 Meanwhile the other party was rapidly getting 
 more and more nervous. He felt that he was 
 marching to his fate, and that the only way of 
 escape was by flight, and that immediate ; for they 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 221 
 
 were very near the station-house. Just as Ben 
 pronounced the last words, the thief gathered all his 
 strength, and broke from the grasp of the officer, 
 whose hold was momentarily relaxed. Once free 
 he showed an astonishing rapidity. 
 
 The officer hesitated for an instant, for he had 
 another prisoner to guard. 
 
 44 Go after him," exclaimed Ben, eagerly. " Don't 
 let him escape. I'll stay where I am." 
 
 The conviction that the escaped party was the 
 real thief determined the policeman to follow Ber/a 
 advice. He let him go, and started in rapid pur- 
 suit of the fugitive. 
 
 Ben sat down on a doorstep, and awaited 
 ?ously the result of the chase. 
 
222 JJW, THE LUGGAGE SOT; OJJ, 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 HOW ALL CAME RIGHT IN THE MORNING. 
 
 IT ts quite possible that the pickpocket would 
 have made good his escape, if he had not, unluckily 
 for himself, run into another policeman. 
 
 " Beg your pardon," he said, hurriedly. 
 
 "Stop a minute," said the officer, detaining him 
 by the arm, for his appearance and haste inspired 
 suspicion. He was bare-headed, for his hat had 
 fallen off, and he had not deemed it prudent to stop 
 long enough to pick it up. 
 
 " I'm in a great hurry," panted the thief. " My 
 youngest child is in a fit, and I am running for a 
 physician." 
 
 This explanation seemed plausible, and the 
 policeman, who was himself *,he father of a family, 
 was on the point of releasing him, when the first 
 officer came up. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 223 
 
 "Hold on to him," he said; "he's just broken 
 away from me." 
 
 "That's it, is it?" said the second policeman. 
 " He told me he was after a doctor for his youngest 
 child." 
 
 " I think he'll need a doctor himself," said th 
 first, " if he tries another of his games. You didn't 
 atop to say good-by, my man." 
 
 "I told you I had an important engagement," 
 said the pickpocket, sulkily, " one that I cared mow 
 about than the money. Where's the boy ? " 
 
 " I had to leave him to go after you." 
 
 " That's a pretty way to manage ; you let the 
 thief go in order to chase his victim." 
 
 "You're an able-bodied victim," said the police- 
 man, laughing. 
 
 " Where are you taking me? " 
 
 " I'm going back for the boy. He said he'd wait 
 till I returned." 
 
 " Are you green enough to think you'll find him?" 
 sneered the man in charge. 
 
 " Perhaps not ; but I shouldn't be surprised if ] 
 
224 3&3T, THE LUGGAGE BOY / OJt, 
 
 did. If I guess right, he'll find it worth his whik 
 fco keep his promise." 
 
 When they returned to the place where the thief 
 had first effected his escape, our hero was found 
 quietly sitting on a wooden step. 
 
 " So you've got him," said Ben, advancing to 
 meet the officer with evident satisfaction. 
 
 "He's got you too," growled the pickpocket. 
 M Why didn't you run away, you little fool ? " 
 
 '* I didn't have anything to run for," answered 
 Ben. " Besides, I want my money back." 
 
 "Then you'll have to go with me to the station- 
 house," said the officer. 
 
 "I wish I could go to Mr. Abercrombie's office 
 first to tell Mr. Sampson what's happened." 
 
 "I can't let you do that; but you may write a 
 Letter from the station-house." 
 
 "All right," said Ben, cheerfully; and he vol- 
 untarily placed himself on the other side of the 
 officer, and accompanied him to the station-house. 
 
 "I thought you was guilty at first," said the 
 officer; "but I guess your story is correct. If it 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 225 
 
 isn't, you're about the coolest chap I ever saw, ami 
 I've seen some cool ones in my day.' 
 
 " It's just as I said," said Ben. " It'll all come 
 right in the morning." 
 
 They soon reached the station-house. Ben ob 
 tained the privilege of writing a letter to Mr. 
 Sampson, for which the officer undertook to procure 
 a messenger. In fact he began to feel quite 
 interested for our hero, feeling fully convinced 
 that the other party was the real offender. 
 
 Ben found some difficulty in writing his letter. 
 When he first came to the city, he could have 
 written one with considerable ease, but he had 
 scarcely touched a pen, or formed a letter, for six 
 years, and of course this made an important dif- 
 ference. However he finally managed to write 
 these few lines with a lead-pencil : 
 
 4t MR. SAMPSON: I am sory I can't cary that 
 leter til to-morrow ; but it was took from my pokit 
 by a thefe wen I was ridin' in the cars, and as he 
 aed I took it from him, the ' copp ' has brort 
 
 on both to the stashun-house, whare I hope you wil 
 11 
 
226 BEST, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 come and tel them how it was, and that you give 
 me the leter to cary, for the other man says it is Ms 
 
 The ' copp* took the leter 
 
 " BEN HOOPER." 
 
 It will be observed that Ben's spelling had 
 suffered ; but this will not excite surprise, consider- 
 ing how long it was since he had attended school. 
 It will also be noticed that he did not sign his real 
 name, but used the same which he had communi- 
 cated to Charles Marston. More than ever, till he 
 was out of his present difficulty, he desired to 
 conceal his identity from his relations. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mr. Sampson was busily engaged in 
 his office in Wall Street. It may as well be explained 
 here that he was the junior partner of Mr. Aber- 
 crombie. Occasionally he paused in his business to 
 wonder whether he had done well to expose a ragged 
 street boy to such a temptation ; but he was a large- 
 hearted man, inclined to think well of his fellow-men, 
 and though in his business life he had seen a good 
 deal that was mean and selfish in the conduct of 
 others, he had never lost his confidence in human 
 nature, and never would. It is better to have sucfc 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 227 
 
 A disposition, even if it does expose the possessor to 
 being imposed upon at times, than to regard every- 
 body with distrust and suspicion. At any rate it 
 promotes happiness, and conciliates good-will, and 
 these will offset an occasional deception. 
 
 An hour had passed, when a boy presented himself 
 at Mr. Abercrombie's office. It was a newsboy, who 
 had been intrusted with Ben's letter. 
 
 " This is for Mr. Sampson," he said, looking around 
 him on entering. 
 
 "Another of Mr. Sampson's friends," sneered 
 Granby, in a tone which he took care should be too 
 low to come to that gentleman's ears. 
 
 " My name is Sampson," said the owner of that 
 name. " Who is your letter from ? " 
 
 " It's from Ben." 
 
 " And who is Ben? " asked Mr. Sampson, not much 
 enlightened. 
 
 " It's Ben, the baggage-smasher." 
 
 " Give it to me," said the gentleman, conjecturing 
 rightly that it was his messenger who was meant. 
 
 He ran his eye rapidly over the paper, or, I should 
 
228 BEN) THE LUGGAGE BOY,' Oft, 
 
 say, as rapidly as the character of Ben's writing would 
 permit. 
 
 " Do you come from the station-house?" he asked, 
 looking up. 
 
 Yes, sir." 
 
 44 Which station-house is it?" 
 
 " In Leonard Street." 
 
 44 Very well. Go back and tell the boy that I will 
 call this afternoon. I will also give you a line to * 
 Louae on Madison Avenue. Can you go right up 
 there, calling at the station-house on the way?" 
 
 44 Yes, sir." 
 
 " Very well. Here is something for your trouble." 
 
 The bo} r pocketed with satisfaction the money 
 proffered him, and took the letter which Mr. Sampson 
 hastily wrote. It was to this effect : 
 
 "Mr DEAR MRS. ABERCROMBIE: I received your 
 note, and despatched the money which you desired by 
 a messenger ; but I have just learned that his pocket 
 was picked on the horse-cars. I cannot spare one of 
 my clerks just now, but at one o'clock will send one 
 up with the money, hoping that he may have better 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 229 
 
 toitune than the first messenger, and that you will 
 not be seriously inconvenienced by the delay. 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 "HENRY SAMPSON." 
 
 Then he dismissed the matter from his mind until 
 afternoon, when, the office having closed, he made hie 
 way to the Leonard Street station-house, where he 
 was speedily admitted to see Ben. 
 
 " I'm glad you've come, Mr. Sampson," said oar 
 hero, eagerly. "I hope you don't think I was to 
 blame about the letter." 
 
 " Tell me how it was, my lad," said Mr. Sampson, 
 kindly. " I dare say you can give me a satisfactory 
 explanation." 
 
 Ben felt grateful for the kindness of his tone. He 
 saw that he was not condemned unheard, but had a 
 chance of clearing himself. 
 
 He explained, briefly, how it occurred. Of course 
 it is unnecessary to give his account, for we know aft- 
 about it already. 
 
 " I believe you," said Mr. Sampson, in a friendly 
 tone. " The only fault I have to find with you i* 
 
230 BEN) THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 that jo u might have been more careful in guarding 
 your pockets." 
 
 "That's so, "said Ben; "but I don't often carry 
 anything that's worth stealing." 
 
 " No, I suppose not," said Mr. Sampson, smiling. 
 " Well, it appears that no serious loss has occurred. 
 The money will be recovered, as it is in the hands of 
 the authorities. As to the delay, that is merely an 
 inconvenience; but the most serious inconvenience 
 falls upon you, in your being brought here." 
 
 " I don't mind that as long as the money is safe," 
 said Ben. " It'll all be right in the morning." 
 
 " I see you are a philosopher. I see your face U 
 swelled. You must have got a blow." 
 
 " Yes," said Ben ; " the chap that took my letter 
 left me something to remember him by." 
 
 "I shall try to make it up to you," said Mr. 
 Sampson. " I can't stop any longer, but I will be 
 present at your trial, and my testimony will undoubt- 
 edly clear you." 
 
 He took his leave, leaving Ben considerably more 
 cheerful than before. A station-house is not a very 
 agreeable place of detention ; but then Ben was not 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 231 
 
 accustomed to luxury, and the absence of comfort 
 did not trouble him much. He cared more for the 
 loss of his liberty, finding the narrow cell somewhat 
 too restricted for enjoyment. However, he consoled 
 himself by reflecting, to use his favorite phrase, that 
 it would " all be right in the morning." 
 
 It will not be necessary to give a circumstantial 
 account of Ben's trial. Mr. Sampson was faithful 
 to his promise, and presented himself, somewhat to 
 his personal inconvenience, at the early hour assigned 
 for trial. His testimony was brief and explicit, and 
 cleared Ben. The real pickpocket, however, being 
 recognized by the judge as one who had been up 
 before him some months before, charged with a simi- 
 lar offence, was sentenced to a term of imprisonment, 
 considerably to his dissatisfaction. 
 
 Ben left the court-room well pleased with the 
 result. His innocence had been established, and he 
 had proved that he could be trusted, or rather, he 
 had not proved faithless to his trust, and he felt that 
 with his present plans and hopes he could not 
 afford to lose his character for honesty. He kneif 
 
232 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; 0J2, 
 
 that be Lad plenty of faults, but at any rate be was 
 not a thief. 
 
 While he stood on the steps of the Toinbs, in which 
 the trial had taken place, Mr. Sampson advanced 
 towards him, and touched him on the shoulder. 
 
 " Well, my lad," he said, in a friendly manner, 
 " so you're all right once more ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Ben ; " I knew it would all be right in 
 the morning." 
 
 " I owe you something for the inconvenience you 
 have suffered while in my employ. Here is a ten- 
 dollar bill. I hope you will save it till you need it, 
 and won't spend it foolishly." 
 
 " Thank you," said Ben, joyfully. " Til put it in 
 the bank." 
 
 " That will be a good plan. Good-morning ; when 
 you need a friend, you will know where to find me." 
 
 He shook Ben's hand in a friendly way and left 
 him. 
 
 " He's a trump," thought Ben. " If my fathead 
 treated me like that, I'd never have wanted to run 
 away from home." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 IN A NEW LINE. 
 
 " TEN dollars ! " said Ben to himself, with exulta* 
 tion. " That's pretty good pay for a few hours in 
 the station-house. I'd like to board there a week on 
 the same terms." 
 
 Ben's capital now amounted to eleven dollars ; but 
 of this sum he decided to retain one dollar as a re- 
 serve to fall back upon in case of need. The tec 
 dollars he determined to deposit at once in a savings- 
 bank. He accordingly bent his steps towards one 
 in the course of the forenoon. The business was 
 quickly transacted, and Ben left the building with a 
 bank-book containing an entry of his first deposit. 
 
 This was a very good beginning, so Ben thought. 
 Fifty dollars, as he had estimated, would enable him 
 to carry out the plan which he proposed, and he had 
 already one-fifth of the sum. But the accumulation 
 of the otlier forty dollars would no doubt take him a 
 
234 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 considerable time. The business of a " baggage 
 smasher," as Ben knew from experience, is precari- 
 ous, the amount of gains depending partly upon luck. 
 He had sometimes haunted the steamboat landings 
 for hours without obtaining a single job. Now that 
 he was anxious to get on, he felt this to be an objec- 
 tion. He began to consider whether there was any 
 way of adding to his income. 
 
 After considerable thought he decided to buy a 
 supply of weekly papers, which he could sell while 
 waiting for a job. One advantage in selecting weekly 
 papers rather than daily was this, that the latter 
 must be sold within a few hours, or they prove a 
 dead loss. A daily paper of yesterday is as unsala- 
 ble as a last year's almanac. As Ben was liable to 
 be interrupted in his paper business at any time by a 
 chance to carry luggage, it was an important consid- 
 eration to have a stock which would remain fresh for 
 a few days. 
 
 This idea impressed Ben so favorably that he 
 determined to act upon it at once. In considering 
 where he should go for his supply of papers, he 
 thought of a Broadway news-stand, which he fre* 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 235 
 
 quently had occasion to pass. On reaching it, he 
 said to the proprietor, " Where do you buy your 
 papers ? " 
 
 " What do you want to know for ? " 
 
 " I thought maybe I'd go into the business." 
 
 " You don't think of setting up a stand, do you?" 
 asked the man, with a significant glance at Ben* a 
 ragged attire. 
 
 44 No," said Ben. " I haven't got capital enough 
 for that, unless you'll sell out for fifty cents." 
 
 44 1 suppose you want a few to carry round aad 
 sell?" 
 
 44 Yes." 
 
 44 Where do you think of going with them? " 
 
 " Down to the wharves. I'm a baggage-smasher, 
 and I thought I might make somethin' by sellin* 
 papers, when I hadn't any baggage to carry." 
 
 44 I get my papers from the 4 American News 
 Company ' on Nassau Street." 
 
 " I know the place well enough." 
 
 " What papers do you think I could sell best?' 
 asked Ben. 
 
 44 The picture papers go off as fast as any," said 
 
236 BEN) THE LUGGAGE BOY / OJ2, 
 
 the stieet dealer. " But I'll tell you what, my lad, 
 maybe I can make an arrangement for you to sell 
 papers for me." 
 
 " I don't think I'd like to stand here all day," 
 said Ben, supposing the other to mean to engage 
 him to tend the stand. 
 
 " I don't mean that." 
 
 " Well/' said Ben, " I'm open to an offer, as the 
 old maid of sixty told a feller that called to see L^r." 
 
 " Fll tell you what I mean. I'll give you a bundle 
 of papers every morning to take with you. You 
 will sell what you can, and bring back the rest at 
 night." 
 
 "I like that," said Ben, with satisfaction. ''But 
 how much will I get?" 
 
 " It will depend on the price of the papers. ' Har- 
 per's Weekly ' and ' Frank Leslie ' sell for ten cents. I 
 will allow you two cents on each of these. On 
 the ' Ledger ' and ' Weekly,' and other papers of that 
 price, I will allow one cent. You'd make rather more 
 if you bought them yourself; but you might hav 
 them left on your hands." 
 
 " That's so," said Ben. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 257 
 
 " Did you ever sell papers? " 
 
 "I uiied to sell the mornin* and evenin' papers 
 before I went to baggage-smashin'." 
 
 " Then you know something about the business. 
 When do you want to begin?" 
 
 " Right off." 
 
 41 Very well ; I will make you up a bundle of a 
 dcsen papers to begin on. I'll put in three each 
 of the illustrated papers, and fill up with the story 
 papers." 
 
 " All right, mister, you know better than I what 
 people will buy." 
 
 The dealer began to collect the papers, but paused 
 in the middle of his task, and looked doubtfully at 
 our hero. 
 
 " Well, what's up? " asked Ben, observing his hesi- 
 tation. 
 
 " How do I know but you'll sell the papers, and 
 keep the money yourself? " said the dealer. 
 
 " That's so," said Ben. " I never thought of that." 
 
 " That wouldn't be very profitable for me, yoq 
 
238 BEN) THE LUGGAGE EOT; Olt> 
 
 * l I'll bring back the money or the papers,'* said 
 Ben. " You needn't be afraid." 
 
 " Very likely you would ; but how am I to know 
 that?" 
 
 " So you don't want to trust me," said Ben, rather 
 disappointed. 
 
 "Have you got any money?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Very well, you can leave enough with me to 
 secure me against loss, and I will give you the 
 papers." 
 
 " How much will that be?" 
 
 After a little thought, the dealer answered, " Sev- 
 enty-five cents." He had some doubt whether Ben 
 had so much; but our hero quickly set his doubts 
 at rest by drawing out his two half-dollars, and de- 
 manding a quarter in change. 
 
 The sight of this money reassured the dealer. 
 Ben's ragged clothes had led him to doubt his finan- 
 cial soundness ; but the discovery that he was a 
 capitalist to the extent of a dollar gave him consid- 
 erable more respect for him. A dollar may not be a 
 very large sum; I hope that to you, my young 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 289 
 
 reader, it is a very small one, and that you have 
 never been embarrassed for the want of it ; but it is 
 enough to lift a ragged street boy from the position 
 of a penniless vagabond to that of a thrifty capital- 
 ist. After seeing it, the dealer would almost have 
 felt safe in trusting Ben with the papers without 
 demanding a deposit of their value. Still it was 
 better and safer to require a deposit, and he there- 
 fore took the dollar from Ben, returning twenty- 
 five cents in change. 
 
 This preliminary matter settled, he made up the 
 parcel of papers. 
 
 " There they are," he said. " If you're smart, you 
 can sell 'em all before night." 
 
 " I hope so," said Ben. 
 
 With the papers under his arm, Ben made his way 
 westward to the Cortlandt Street ferry, which was 
 a favorite place of resort with him. 
 
 He did not have long to wait for his first customer. 
 As he was walking lown Cortlandt Street, he met a 
 gentleman, whose attention seemed attracted by thf 
 papers he carried 
 
240 EN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OM, 
 
 " What papers have you got there, my iad? " ha 
 inquired. 
 
 " ' Harper's Weekly, ' Frank Leslie,' < Ledger,' 
 4 Weekly/ " repeated Ben, glibly, adding the names of 
 the other papers in his parcel. 
 
 " Give me the two picture papers," said the gentle- 
 man. " Twenty cents, I suppose." 
 
 " Yes," said Ben," and as much more as you want 
 to pay. " I don't set no limit to the generosity 
 of my customers." 
 
 "You're sharp," said the gentleman, laughing. 
 " That's worth something. Here's twenty-five cents. 
 You may keep the change." 
 
 " I'll do it cheerfully," said Ben. " Thank you, sir. 
 1 hope you'll buy all your papers of me." 
 
 " I won't promise always to pay you more than the 
 regular price, but you may leave ' Harper's' and 
 4 Leslie ' at my office every week. Here is my card." 
 
 Ben took the card, and put it in his pocket. He 
 found the office to be located in Trinity Building, 
 Broadway. 
 
 " I'll call every week reg'lar," he said. 
 
 " That's right, my lad. Good-morning." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 241 
 
 " Good -mornm'." 
 
 Ben felt that he had started well. He nad cleared 
 nine cents by his sale, four representing his regular 
 commission, while the other five cents might be re- 
 garded as a donation. Nine cents was something. 
 But for his idea about the papers, he would have 
 made nothing so far. It is a very good thing to 
 have two strings to your bow, so Ben thought, 
 though the thought did not take that precise form in 
 his mind. He kept on his way till he reached the 
 ferry. There was no train in on the other side, and 
 would not be for some time, but passengers came 
 over the ferry, and Ben placed himself where he 
 could be seen. It was some time before he sold 
 another paper however, although Ben, who improved 
 some of his spare time by looking over the pic- 
 tures, was prepared to recommend them. 
 
 " What papers have you got, boy ? " asked a tall, 
 i&nk man, whose thin lips and pinched expression 
 ga ve him an outward appearance of meanness, which, 
 by the way, did not belie his real character. 
 
 Ben recited the list. 
 
 " What's the price of ' Harper's Weekly '? " 
 16 
 
242 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; Git, 
 
 'Ten cents." 
 
 " Ten cents is too much to pay for any paper. I 
 don't see how they have the face to ask it." 
 
 " Nor I," said Ben ; " but they don't consult me," 
 
 " I'll give you eight cents." 
 
 " No you won't, not if I know it. I'd rather keep 
 the paper for my private readin'," answered Ben. 
 
 " Then you are at liberty to do so," said the gen- 
 tleman, snappishly. "You'd make profit enough, 
 if you sold at eight cents." 
 
 " All the profit I'd make wouldn't pay for a fly's 
 breakfast," said Ben. 
 
 The gentleman deigned no response, but walked 
 across the street in a dignified manner. Here he 
 was accosted by a boot-black, who proposed to shine 
 his boots. 
 
 " He'll get 'em done at the wholesale price, see if 
 he don't," thought Ben. He kept an eye on the 
 boot-black and his patron until the job was finished. 
 Then he witnessed what appeared to be an angry 
 dispute between the two parties. It terminated by 
 the gentleman lifting his cane in a menacing manner, 
 Ben afterwards gained from the boy particulars of 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 243 
 
 the transaction, which may be given here in the third 
 person. 
 
 "Shine yer boots?" asked the boot-black, as the 
 gentleman reached his side of the street, just after 
 bis unsuccessful negotiations with Ben. 
 
 " What do you charge ? " he inquired. 
 
 " Ten cents." 
 
 " That's too much." 
 
 " It's the reg'lar price." 
 
 44 1 can get my boots blacked for five cents any- 
 where. If you'll do it for that, you can go to work." 
 
 The boy hesitated. It was half price, but he had 
 not yet obtained a* job, and he yielded. When the 
 task was finished, his generous patron drew four 
 cents from his pocket. 
 
 44 1 haven't got but four cents," he observed. " I 
 guess that'll do." 
 
 The boy was indignant, as was natural. To work 
 for half price, and then lose one-fifth of his reduced 
 pay, was aggravating. What made it worse was, 
 that his customer was carefully dressed, and bore 
 erery appearance of being a man of substance, 
 
 "I want another cent," he demanded. 
 
244 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; 0JJ, 
 
 " You're well enough paid," said the other, draw* 
 ing on a kid glove. " Four cents I consider very 
 handsome pay for ten minutes' work. Many men do 
 not make as much." 
 
 This reasoning did not strike the little boot-black as 
 sound. He was no logician ; but he felt that he had 
 been defrauded, and that in a very mean manner. 
 
 " Give me my money," he screamed, angrily. 
 
 41 I'll hand you over to the authorities," said th 
 gentleman, though I hardly feel justified in calling 
 him such, lifting his cane menacingly. 
 
 What could the boy do? Might was evidently on 
 the side of the man who had cheated him. But he 
 was quick-witted, and a characteristic mode of re- 
 venge suggested itself. The street was muddy 
 (New York streets are occasionally in that condi- 
 tion). The boot-black stooped down and clutched a 
 handful of mire in his hand, fortunately having no 
 kid gloves to soil, and, before his late customer 
 fathomed his intention, plentifully besprinkled one 
 of the boots which he had just carefully polished. 
 
 46 That's worth a cent," he remarked, with satisfy 
 tion, escaping from the wrath of the injured party. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 245 
 
 His victim, almost speechless with rage, seemed 
 disposed to pursue him ; but the boy, regardless of 
 the mire, had run across the street, and to follow 
 would only be to make matters worse. 
 
 " If I ever catch you, I'll break every bone in your 
 body, you little vagabond," he said, in a voice almost 
 choked by passion, shaking his cane energetically. 
 
 Ben, who had witnessed the whole, burst into a 
 hearty laugh, which drew upon his head a portion of 
 wrath. After a pause, the victim of his own mean- 
 ness turned up a side street. The reader will be 
 glad to learn that he had to employ a second boot 
 black ; so that he was not so much better off for his 
 economical management after all. It may be added 
 that he was actuated in all his dealings by the same 
 frugality, if we may dignify it by that name. He 
 was a large dealer in ready-made under-clothing, for 
 the making of which he paid starvation prices'; but> 
 unfortunately, the poor sewing-girls, whom he em- 
 ployed for a pittance, were not so well able to defend 
 themselves against imposition as the smart little 
 boot-black, who " knew his rights, and knowing, 
 dared maintain." 
 
BEN) THE LUGGAGE BOY; Oft, 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE HEAVY VALISE. 
 
 BEN had sold half his papers when the arrival of 
 the train from Philadelphia gave him an opportunity 
 to return to his legitimate calling. 
 
 " Smash your baggage, sir?" asked Ben of a dark- 
 complexioned man of thirty-five, who carried a mod- 
 erate-sized valise. 
 
 " Yes/' said the other. 
 
 " Where shall I carry it?" 
 
 "To " Here the man hesitated, and finally 
 
 answered, " There is no need of telling you. I 
 will take it from you when we have got along far 
 enough." 
 
 Ben was about to walk beside the owner of the 
 valise ; but the latter objected to this. 
 
 " You needn't walk beside me," he said. "Keep 
 about a block ahead." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 247 
 
 " But how will I know where to go?" asked Ben, 
 naturally. 
 
 "You know where Broome Street runs into the 
 Bowery?" 
 
 " Of course I do." 
 
 " Go there by the shortest route. Don't trouble 
 yourself about me. I'll follow along behind, and 
 take the valise from you there. If you get there be- 
 fore I do, wait for me." 
 
 " I suppose I'm too ragged to walk alongside of 
 him," thought Ben. 
 
 He could think of no other reason for the direction 
 given by the other. However, Ben's pride was not 
 very much hurt. Although he was ragged now, he 
 did not mean to be long. The time would come, he 
 was confident, when he could lay aside his rags, and 
 appear in a respectable dress. 
 
 The valise which he carried proved to be consider- 
 ably heavier than would have been imagined from ita 
 size. 
 
 " I wonder what's in it," thought Ben, who found 
 it tugging away at his arms. " If it's shirts they'rt 
 cast-iron. Maybe they're just comin' in fashion." 
 
248 BEN) THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 However, he did not perplex himself much about 
 this point. Beyond a momentary curiosity, he felt no 
 particular interest in the contents of the valise. The 
 way in which it affected him principally was, to make 
 him inwardly resolve to ask an extra price, on 
 account of the extra weight. 
 
 After walking a while he looked back for the owner 
 of the valise. But he was not in sight. 
 
 " I might carry off his baggage," thought Ben, 
 "without his knowin' it." 
 
 He kept on, however, never doubting that the 
 owner would sooner or later overtake him. If he 
 did not care enough for the valise to do this, Ben 
 would not be responsible. 
 
 He had just shifted the heavy burden from one 
 hand to the other, when he felt himself tapped on 
 the shoulder. Looking round, he saw that the one 
 who had done this was a quiet-looking man, of mid- 
 dle size, but with a keen, sharp eye. 
 
 "What's wanted?" asked Ben. 
 
 '* Where did you get that valise, my lad ? " asked 
 the new-comer. 
 
 " I don't know as that's any of your business," 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 249 
 
 answered Ben, who didn't perceive the other's right 
 to ask the question. 
 
 44 Is it yours?" 
 
 " Maybe it is." 
 
 " Let me lift it a moment." 
 
 "Hands off!" said Ben, suspiciously. "Don't 
 try none of your tricks on me." 
 
 The other did not appear to notice this. 
 
 " I take it for granted that the valise is not yours," 
 he said. " Now tell me where you got it from." 
 
 There was something of authority in his manner, 
 which led Ben to think that he had a warrant foi 
 asking the question, though he could not guess his 
 object in doing so. 
 
 " I'm a baggage-smasher," answered Ben. " I got 
 this from a man that came by the Philadelphia 
 train." 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 44 1 guess he's behind somewheres." 
 
 44 Where are you carrying the valise ? " 
 
 44 Seems to me you want to know a good deal," 
 gaid Ben, undecided as to the right of the other to 
 ask so many questions. 
 
50 JBJPJT, THE LUGO AGE BOY; OR> 
 
 " I'll let you into a secret, my lad ; but yon must 
 keep the secret. That valise is pretty heavy, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 " I'll bet it is." 
 
 " To the best of my information, the man who em- 
 ployed you is a noted burglar, and this valise con- 
 tains his tools. I am a detective, and am on his 
 track. I received a telegram an hour ago from Phil- 
 adelphia, informing me that he was on his way. I 
 got down to the wharf a little too late. Now tell me 
 where you are to carry this ; " and the detective 
 pointed to the valise. 
 
 "I am to meet the gentleman at the corner of 
 Broome Street and the Bowery," said Ben. 
 
 " Very well. Go ahead and meet him." 
 
 " Shall you be there? " asked Ben. 
 
 " Never mind. Go on just as if I had not met 
 you, and deliver up the valise." 
 
 " If you're goin* to nab him, just wait till I've got 
 m J P av - I don't want to smash such heavy baggage 
 for nothin'." 
 
 " I agree to that. Moreover, if I succeed in get- 
 ting hold of the fellow through your information, I 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 251 
 
 don't mind paying you five dollars out of my own 
 pocket." 
 
 "Very good," said Ben. "I shan't mind takin* 
 it, not by no means." 
 
 " Go on, and don't be in too much of a hurry. I 
 want time to lay my trap." 
 
 Ben walked along leisurely, in accordance with hia 
 instructions. At length he reached the rendezvous. 
 He found the owner of the valise already in waiting. 
 
 " Well, boy," he said, impatiently, " you took your 
 time." 
 
 " I generally do," said Ben. " It aint dishonest to 
 take my own time, is it ? " 
 
 " I've been waiting here for a quarter of an hour. 
 I didn't know but you'd gone to sleep somewhere on 
 the way. ' 
 
 "I don't sleep much in the daytime. It don't 
 agree with my constitution. Well, mister, I hope 
 you'll give me something handsome. Your baggage 
 here is thunderin' heavy." 
 
 " There's twenty-five cents," said the other. 
 
 " Twenty-five cents ! " exclaimed Ben, indignantly, 
 
252 BEN, THE LUGGAGE EOT; OJK, 
 
 " Twenty-five cents for walkin' two miles with such * 
 heavy load. It's worth fifty." 
 
 "Well, you won't get fifty," said the other, 
 roughly. 
 
 " Jus\; get somebody else to carry your baggage 
 next time," said Ben, angrily. 
 
 He looked round, and saw the quiet-looking man, 
 before, referred to, approaching. He felt some satis- 
 faction in knowing that his recent employer would 
 meet with a check which he was far from anticipating. 
 
 Without answering Ben, the latter took the valise, 
 and was about moving away, when the quiet-looking 
 man suddenly quickened his pace, and laid his hand 
 on his arm. 
 
 The burglar, for he was really one, started, and 
 turned pale. 
 
 " What do you want?" 
 
 "You know what I want," said the detective, 
 quietly. " I want you." 
 
 "What do you want me for?" demanded the 
 other ; but it was easy to see that he was nervous 
 and alarmed. 
 
 " You know that also," said the detective ; " but 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 253 
 
 I dou't mind telling you. You came from Philadel- 
 phia this morning, and your name is ' Sly Bill.' 
 You are a noted burglar, and I shall take you into 
 immediate custody." 
 
 " You're mistaken," said Bill. " You've got hold 
 of the wrong man." 
 
 " That will soon be seen. Have the kindness to 
 accompany me to the station-house, and I'll take a 
 look into that valise of yours." 
 
 Bill was physically a stronger man than the detec- 
 tive, but he succumbed at once to the tone of quiet 
 authority with which he spoke, and prepared to fol- 
 low, though by no means with alacrity. 
 
 " Here, my lad," said the detective, beckoning 
 Ben, who came up. " Come and see me at thia 
 place, to-morrow," he continued, producing a card, 
 u and I won't forget the promise I made you." 
 
 " All right," said Ben. 
 
 " I'm in luck ag'in," he said to himself. " At thi* 
 rate it won't take me long to make fifty dollars. 
 Smashin' baggage for burglars pays pretty well." 
 
 He bethought himself of his papers, of which half 
 remained unsold. He sold some on the way back t 
 
254 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OJB, 
 
 the wharf, where, after a while, he got another job, 
 for which, being at some distance, he was paid fifty 
 cents. 
 
 At five in the afternoon he reported himself at the 
 news-stand. 
 
 " I've sold all the papers you gave me," he said, 
 '* and here's the money. I guess I can sell more to- 
 morrow." 
 
 The news-dealer paid him the commission agreed 
 upon, amounting to eighteen cents, Ben, of course, 
 retaining besides the five cents which had been paid 
 him extra in the morning. This made his earnings 
 for the day ninety-eight cents, beside* the 
 dollars promised by the detective. 
 
AMONG THE WBARVE8. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE SURPRISE. 
 
 BEN had certainly met with good luck so far. 
 Even his temporary detention at the station-house 
 he regarded as a piece of good luck, since he was 
 paid handsomely for the confinement, while his bed 
 there was considerably more comfortable than he 
 often enjoyed. His adventure with the burglar 
 also brought him in as much as under ordinary 
 circumstances he would have earned in a week. In 
 two days he was able to lay aside fifteen dollars 
 and a half towards his fund. 
 
 But of course such lucky adventures could not 
 be expected every day. The bulk of his money 
 must be earned slowly, as the reward of persistent 
 labor and industry. But Ben was willing to work 
 now that he had an object before him. He kept up 
 his double business of baggage-smasher and vender 
 of weekly papers. After a while the latter began 
 
BEN, THS LUGGAGE 3OY / OS, 
 
 to pay him enough to prove quite a help, besides 
 filling up his idle moments. Another good result 
 of his new business was, that, while waiting for 
 customers, he got into the habit of reading the 
 papers he had for sale. Now Ben had done very 
 little reading since he came to New York, and, if 
 called upon to read aloud, would have shown the 
 effects of want of practice, in his frequent blunders. 
 But the daily lessons in reading which he now took 
 began to remedy this deficiency, and give him 
 increased fluency and facility. It also had the 
 effect of making him wish that his education had not 
 been interrupted, so that his Cousin Charles might 
 not be so far ahead of him. 
 
 Ben also gave up smoking, not so much because 
 he considered it injurious, but because cigars cost 
 money, and he was economizing in every possible 
 way. He continued to sleep in the room under the 
 wharf, which thus far the occupants had managed 
 to keep from the knowledge of the police. Grad- 
 ually the number had increased, until from twenty 
 to thirty boys made it a rendezvous nightly. By 
 some means a stove had been procured, and whal 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES 251 
 
 was more difficult, got safely down without obser* 
 ration, so that, as the nights grew cooler, the boys 
 managed to make themselves comfortable. Here 
 they talked and told stories, and had a good time 
 before going to sleep. One evening it was proposed 
 by one of the boys that each should tell his own 
 story; for though they met together daily they 
 knew little of each other beyond this, that they 
 were All engaged in some street avocation. Some 
 of the stories told were real, some burlesque. 
 
 First Jim Bagley told his story. 
 
 "I aint got much to tell, boys," he said. "My 
 father kept a cigar store on Eighth Avenue, and 
 my mother and sister and I lived behind the shop. 
 We got along pretty well, till father got run over 
 by a street-car, and pretty soon after he died. We 
 kept the store along a little while, but we couldn't 
 make it go and pay the rent ; so we sold out to a 
 man who paid half down, and promised to pay the 
 rest in a year. But before the year was up he shut 
 np the shop, and went off, and we never got the 
 rest of the money. The money we did get did not 
 
 last long. Mother got some sewin' to do, but h 
 17 
 
258 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OM> 
 
 soukin't earn much. I took to sellin' papers : but 
 after a while 1 went into the match business, which 
 pays pretty good. I pay mother five dollars a 
 week, and sometimes more ; so she gets along 
 well." 
 
 "I don't see how you make so much money. 
 Jim," said Phil Cranmer. "I've tried it, and I 
 didn't get nothin' much out of it." 
 
 " Jim knows how," said one of the boys. " He'i 
 got enterprise." 
 
 "I go off into the country a good deal," said 
 Jim. "There's plenty of match boys in the city. 
 Sometimes I hire another boy to come along and 
 help me. If he's smart I make money that way 
 loo. Last time I went out I didn't make so 
 much." 
 
 " How was that, Jim?" 
 
 u I went up to Albany on the boat. I was doin' 
 pretty well up there, when all to once they took me 
 up for sellin' without a license ; so I had to pay tjen 
 dollars afore they'd let me off." 
 
 " Did you have the money to pay, Jim ? " 
 
 "Yes, but it cleaned me out, so I didn't have 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 25$ 
 
 but two dollars left. But I travelled off into tba 
 country towns, and got it back in a week or two, 
 I f m glad they didn't get hold of Bill." 
 
 "Who was Bill?" 
 
 "The feller that sold for me. I couldn't have 
 paid his fine too. That's about all I have to tell " * 
 
 "Captain Jinks!" called out one of the boys; 
 " your turn next." 
 
 Attention was directed to a tall, overgrown boy 
 of sixteen, or possibly seventeen, to whom ton 
 some unknown reason the name of the famous 
 Captain Jinks had been given. 
 
 " That aint my name," he said. 
 
 " Oh, bother your name ! Go ahead." 
 
 *' I aint got nothing to say." 
 
 44 Go ahead and say it." 
 
 The captain was rather taciturn, but was finally 
 Induced to tell his story. 
 
 The main incidents of Jim Bagley's story are true, Laving been 
 ommonicated to the writer by Jim himself, a wide-awake boy 
 f, fifteen, who appeared to possess decUed business ability aaf 
 The name only is fictitious. 
 
260 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; 0*, 
 
 "My father and mother are dead," he said. "1 
 used to live with m} T sister and her husband. He 
 would get drunk off the money I brought home, and 
 if I didn't bring home as much as he expected, he'd 
 fling a chair at my head." 
 
 "He was a bully brother-in-law," said Jerry. 
 " Did it hurt the chair much?" 
 
 " If you want to know bad, I'll try it on you," 
 growled the narrator. 
 
 "Good for Captain Jinks!" exclaimed two or 
 three of the boys. 
 
 "When did you join the Hoss Marines?" asked 
 Jerry, with apparent interest. 
 
 " Shut ap your mouth ! " said the captain, who 
 did not fancy the joke. 
 
 44 Go ahead, Jinks." 
 
 " I would not stand that ; so I went off, and lived 
 at the Lodge till I got in here. That's all." 
 
 Captain Jinks relapsed into silence, and Tim 
 McQuade was called upon. He had a pair of 
 sparkling black eyes, that looked as if he were not 
 averse to fun. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 261 
 
 Maybe you don't know," he said, " that I'm 
 fast cousin to a Markis." 
 
 " The Markis of Cork," suggested oae of th 
 boys. 
 
 "And sometimes I expect to come in for a lot 
 of money, if I don't miss of it." 
 
 "When you do, just treat a feller, will you?" 
 aid Jerry. 
 
 " Course I will. I was born in a big castle made 
 of stone, and used to go round dressed in welvet, 
 and had no end of nice things, till one day a feller 
 that had a spite ag'in the Markis carried me off, and 
 brought me to America, where I had to go to work 
 and earn my own livin'." 
 
 "Why don't you write the Markis, and get 
 him to send for you?" asked Jerry. 
 
 "'Cause he can't read, you spalpeen I What 'ud 
 be the use of writin' to him? " 
 
 " Maybe it's the fault of your writin', Tim." 
 
 " Maybe it is," said Tim. " When the MarkU 
 dies I'm going back, an' I'll invite you all to eonM 
 an' pass a week at Castle McQuade " 
 
262 BEN, THE LUGGAGE EOT; Oft, 
 
 " Bully for you, Tim ! Now, Dutchey, tell us your 
 story." 
 
 Dutchey was a boy of ten, with a full face and 
 rotund figure, whose English, as he had been but two 
 years in the country, was highly flavored with Ma 
 native dialect. 
 
 " I cannot English sprechen," he said. 
 
 ** Never mind, Dutchey. Do as well as you can." 
 
 ** It is mine story you want ? He is not very long, 
 but I will tell him so goot as I can. Mine vater was 
 A shoemaker, what makes boots. He come from 
 Sharmany, on der Rhein, mit my moder, and five 
 childer. He take a little shop, and make some 
 money, till one day a house fall on his head mit a 
 brick, an he die. Then I go out into der street, and 
 blacl* boots so much as I get him to do, and the 
 money what I get I carry home to mine moder. I 
 cannot much English sprechen, or I could tell mine 
 Btory more goot." 
 
 " Bully for you, Dutchey ! You're a trump." 
 
 " What is one trump?" asked the boy, with a 
 expression. 
 
 " It is a good feller." 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 263 
 
 This explanation seemed to reconcile Dutchey to 
 toeing called a trump, and he lay back on the bed 
 with an expression of satisfaction. 
 
 " Now, Ben, tell us your story." 
 
 It was Ben, the luggage boy, who was addressed. 
 The question embarrassed him, for he preferred to 
 keep his story secret. He hoped ere long to leaye 
 his present haunts and associates, and he did not 
 care to give the latter a clue by which they might 
 trace him in his new character and position. Yet 
 he had no good reason to assign for silence. He was 
 considering what sort of a story he could manufac- 
 ture, that would pass muster, when he was relieved 
 from further consideration by an unexpected occur- 
 rence. 
 
 It appears that a boy had applied for admission to 
 the rendezvous ; but, on account of his unpopular 
 character, had been refused. This naturally incensed 
 him, and he determined to betray the boys to the 
 policeman on the beat. The sight that greeted Ben, 
 as he looked towards the entrance, was the face of 
 the policeman, peering into the apartment. He 
 
264 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; O, 
 
 Uttered a half exclamation, which attracted the 
 general attention. Instantly all was excitement. 
 
 " The copp ! the copp ! " passed from mouth to 
 mouth. 
 
 The officer saw that the odds were against him, 
 and he must summon help. He went up the ladder, 
 therefore, and went in search of assistance. The 
 boys scrambled up after him. Some were caught, 
 and ultimately sentenced to the Island, on a charge 
 of stealing the articles which were found; but 
 others escaped. Among these was Ben, who waa 
 lucky enough to glide off in the darkness. He took 
 the little German boy under his protection, and man- 
 aged to get him safely away also. In this case the 
 ends of justice were not interfered with, as neither of 
 the two had been guilty of dishonesty, or anything 
 else rendering them amenable to the law. 
 
 " Well, Dutchey, we're safe," said Ben, wken they 
 had got some blocks away from the wharf. " How 
 do you feel ? " 
 
 " I lose mine breath," said the little boy, 
 with the effort he had made. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 263 
 
 That's better than losin' your liberty," said Ben. 
 ** You'll get your breath back again. Now we must 
 look about and see where we can sleep. I wonder if 
 Jim Bagley's took." 
 
 Just then a boy came running up. 
 
 " Why, it's Ben and Dutchey," he said. 
 
 " Jerry, is it you ? I'm glad you're safe." 
 
 " The copp got a grip of me, but I left my jacket 
 in his hands. He can carry that to the station- 
 house if he wants to." 
 
 Jerry's appearance corresponded to his statement, 
 his jacket being gone, leaving a dilapidated vest and 
 ragged shirt alone to protect the upper part of his 
 body. He shivered with the cold, for it was now 
 November. 
 
 "Here, Jerry," said Ben, " just take my vest an* 
 put over yours. I'll button up my coat." 
 
 " If I was as fat as Dutchey, I wouldn't mind the 
 cold," said Jerry. 
 
 The three boys finally found an old wagon, in 
 which all three huddled up together, by thie means 
 keeping warmer than they otherwise could. Being 
 
266 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR> 
 
 turned out of their beds into the street might have 
 been considered a hardship by boys differently reared, 
 but it was not enough to disturb the philosophy <rf 
 our young vagrants. 
 
AMONG TRE WHARVES. 2S7 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 BEN TRANSFORMED. 
 
 away steadily at his double occupation, 
 *vmg ssoney as well as he could ; but he met with 
 no more profitable adventures. His earnings were 
 gradual. Some weeks he laid by as much as a dollar 
 and a half, or even two dollars, but other weeks he 
 barely reached a dollar. So the end of March came 
 before he was able to carry out the object which he 
 had in view. 
 
 One morning about this time Ben carefully counted 
 up his deposits, and found they amounted to fifty 
 dollars and thirty-seven cents. It was a joyful 
 moment, which he had long looked forward to. He 
 had been tempted to rest satisfied with fortj when 
 he had reached that sum, but he resisted the temp- 
 tation. 
 
 u I aint goin' to do things by halves," he said to 
 
268 BEN) THE LUGGAGE BOY; OA, 
 
 himself. " I can't do it for less'n fifty dollars. ! 
 must wait awhile." 
 
 But the moment had arrived when he could accom* 
 plish his purpose. As Ben looked down at his 
 ragged attire, which was in a considerably worse con- 
 dition then when he was first presented to the reader, 
 he felt that it was high time he got a new suit. 
 
 The first thing to be done was to get his money. 
 He made his way to the savings-bank, and presented 
 himself at the counter. 
 
 " I want all of my money," he said. 
 
 * 4 1 hope you're not going to spend it all," said the 
 bank officer, who by this time had come to feel 
 acquainted with Ben, from bis frequent calls to make 
 deposits. 
 
 " I'm goin' to buy some new clothes," said Ben. 
 *' Don't I look as if I needed some ? " 
 
 " Yes, you are rather out at elbows, I must admit. 
 But new clothes won't cost all the money you have in 
 the bank." 
 
 " I'm goin' home to my friends," said Ben, " aftei 
 Fve got dressed decently/* 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 269 
 
 * I hat's a good resolution, my boj ; I hope you'll 
 tick to it." 
 
 " It's what Fve been workin* for, for a long time," 
 said Ben. 
 
 He filled out the order for the money, and it was 
 delivered to him. 
 
 The next thing was to buy a new suit of clothes. 
 Usually Ben had procured his outfit in Chatham 
 Street, but he soared higher now. He made his way 
 to a large ready-made clothing warehouse on Broad 
 way, and entered. The main apartment was spacious, 
 the counters were heaped with articles of dress, and 
 numerous clerks were ready to wait upon customers. 
 
 "Well, what's wanted?" asked one, glancing 
 superciliously at the ragged boy entering. 
 
 44 Have you got any clothes that will fit me ? " 
 asked Ben. 
 
 44 1 guess you've lost your way, Johnny, haven't 
 pou?" 
 
 44 What makes you think so? " asked Ben. 
 
 44 This isn't Chatham Street." 
 
 44 Thank you for the information," said Ben. 4< I 
 thought it was when I saw you here." 
 
270 ABJyr, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OX, 
 
 There was a laugh, at the clerk's expense, among 
 those who heard the retort. 
 
 "What are you here for, any way?" demanded 
 the clerk, with an air of insulted majesty. 
 
 " To buy some clothes," said Ben ; " but you 
 needn't show 'em to me. I'll go to somebody else." 
 
 " Have you got any money ? " 
 
 44 You'll know soon enough." 
 
 He went to another part of the store, and applied 
 to a salesman whose appearance he liked better. 
 After some hesitation, Ben made choice of a suit of 
 substantial warm cloth, a dark mixed sack-coat, vest 
 of the same material, and a pair of pants of neat 
 pattern. 
 
 " I won't trouble you to send 'em," said Ben, " as 
 my house is closed for the season." 
 
 The bundle was made up, and handed to him. 
 The price of the entire suit was twenty dollars, 
 Miich was a good price for those days. Ben took 
 the bundle under his arm and went out. 
 
 His purchases were not yet all made. He went 
 next to a furnishing store, and bought three shirts, 
 three pairs of stockings, some collars, and a necktie^ 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 271 
 
 finishing up with a pair of gloves. These cost him 
 eight dollars. A neat felt hat and a pair of shoes, 
 which he procured elsewhere, completed his outfit. 
 On counting up, Ben found that he had expended 
 thirty-six dollars, leaving in his hands a balance of 
 fourteen dollars and thirty-seven cents. 
 
 Before putting on his new purchases, Ben felt that 
 he must go through a process of purification. H 
 went, therefore, to a barber's basement shop, with 
 which baths were connected, and, going down the 
 steps, said to the barber's assistant, who happened 
 to be alone at the time, " I want a warm bath." 
 
 " Pay in advance," said the young man, surveying 
 the ragged figure before him with some hesitation. 
 
 " All right," said Ben. " How much is it?" 
 
 " Twenty-five cents." 
 
 " Here it is," said Ben, producing the exact 
 amount from his vest-pocket. 
 
 Such ragged customers were not usual ; but there 
 seemed to be no good excuse for refusing Ben, as he 
 had the money to pay. In five minutes the bath was 
 declared to be ready, and Ben, entering the small 
 room assigned to him, joyfully divested himself of 
 
272 HEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; Olt, 
 
 the ragged garments which he was never again to put 
 on, and got into the tub. It probably will not excite 
 lurprise when I say that Ben stood in need of a bath 
 His street life had not been particularly favorable to 
 cleanliness, nor had he been provided with such 
 facilities for attending to his toilet as are usual in 
 well-regulated families. However, he was quite 
 aware of his deficiencies in this way, and spared 
 neither pains nor soap to remedy them. It was a 
 work of time ; but finally he felt satisfied with the 
 result of his efforts, and, after drying himself, pro- 
 ceeded to put on his new clothes. They proved to fit 
 excellently. Indeed, they wrought such a change in 
 our hero's appearance that he could hardly believe in 
 his own identity when he stood before the glass, and 
 saw reflected the form of a well-dressed boy, in place 
 of the ragged figure which he saw on entering. The 
 only thing which marred his good appearance was 
 his hair, which had grown to undue length. He 
 determined to have it cut before he left the barber's 
 shop. 
 
 He tied up the clothes he had taken off in the 
 paper which had contained his new suit, and, opening 
 
A.JUONQ TRB WHARVES 273 
 
 the door, went out into the main room with the 
 bundle under his arm. 
 
 Meanwhile the proprietor of the shop had re- 
 turned. 
 
 " Who is taking a bath?" he asked of his assist- 
 ant. 
 
 " A ragged street boy," said the latter. 
 
 "What did you let him in for?" 
 
 " He paid in advance." 
 
 " I don't oare about such customers any way," tsid 
 the barber. " Remember next time." 
 
 " All right." 
 
 At this moment Ben made his appearance; but 
 that appearance was so much altered that the young 
 man looked at him in astonishment. He looked 
 thoroughly well dressed, and might have passed 
 readily for the scion of a wealthy family. 
 
 " Were two bath-rooms occupied?" asked the pro- 
 prietor. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " I thought you said n 
 
 " I was never so surprised in my life," said iht 
 18 
 
BEN, THE LUGGAGE SOT; OR, 
 
 assistant. "Did you get changed in ;he bath?" ha 
 asked of Ben. 
 
 " Yes," said Ben. 
 
 "What made you wear such a ragged suit?" 
 
 "I was in disguise," said Ben; "but I've got 
 tired of it, and thrown it off. I think I'll have my 
 hair cut." 
 
 "Take a seat," said the proprietor. "I'll cut 
 your hair myself. How will you have it cut?" 
 
 "I want to be in the f^hion," said Ben. * Make 
 it look as well as you can." 
 
 He took his seat, and the task commenced. The 
 barber was skilful in his art, and he saw at once 
 what style would become Ben best. He exerted him- 
 self to the utmost, and when at the end of half an 
 hour he withdrew the cloth from around our hero* 9 
 neck, he had effected a change almost marvellous in 
 Ben's appearance. 
 
 I have already said that Ben was naturally good- 
 looking. But even good looks need fair play, and 
 rags and neglect are apt to obscure the gifts of 
 nature. So Ben had never looked his best till now. 
 But when his hair was cut and arranged, and he 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 275 
 
 looked in the mirror to observe the effect, he was 
 himself surprised. It was some like the change 
 that transformed Cinderella into a princess. 
 " I shan't be ashamed to tell my cousin who I un 
 /' he said. 
 
270 BEN* THE LUGGAGE BOY; O4, 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 BEN MAKES HIMSELF KNOWN. 
 
 BEN went out into the street with two bundles 
 under his arm. One contained the ragged clothes 
 which he had just taken off. The other, which was 
 much smaller, contained his extra shirts and stock- 
 ings. The first he did not care to keep. He there- 
 fore lost no time in throwing it into an alley- way. 
 
 " It'll be a lucky chap that finds it," thought Ben. 
 
 He next put on his gloves, and considered what he 
 should do next. It was half-past twelve o'clock 
 already, for he had not been able to get his money 
 from the bank till ten, and the purchases and bath, 
 as well as the hair-cutting, had taken up considerable 
 time. He began to feel hungry, and appetite sug- 
 gested that he should first of all go to a restaurant 
 and get some dinner. 
 
 On the way thither he met two of his street ac- 
 quaintances, who passed him without the slightest 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES 277 
 
 mark of recognition. This pleased Ben, for it 
 assured him that the change which he had effected 
 in his appearance was a considerable one 
 
 While eating dinner, he deliberated what he should 
 do. It was Saturday, and it would be almost too 
 late to start for his Pennsylvania home. He decided 
 to go to his sister's house on Madison Avenue, and 
 make himself known there first of all. He was influ- 
 enced to this partly by the desire he had to meet his 
 cousin, who, as he knew, was making his home, while 
 attending school, at the house of Mr. Abercrombie 
 He had more than once been up to that part of the 
 city in the hope of catching a glimpse of the cousin 
 for whom he retained his old, boyish love ; but he had 
 always shrunk, even when seeing him, from attract* 
 ing his observation. He did not wish to be remom 
 bered in his rags, and so denied himself the pleasure 
 for which he yearned. But now he was satisfied with 
 his appearance. He felt that he was as well dressed 
 as Charles himself, and would do no discredit to him 
 if they were seen m the street together. 
 
 He got on board an omnibus, and took bis seat 
 A lady soon after entered, and sat down beside him 
 
278 BEN, THE LUQGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 She drew out some money from her purse, and, pas* 
 Ing it to Ben, said, " Will you have the kindness to 
 pass up my fare, sir ? " 
 
 *' Certainly," said Ben, politely. 
 
 It was a small incident, but he felt, from the young 
 lady's manner of addressing him, that she looked upon 
 him as her equal socially, and this afforded him not 
 a little pleasure. He wondered how he could have 
 been content to drift about the streets so long, clothed 
 in rags. New hopes and a new ambition had been 
 awakened within him, and he felt that a new life lay 
 before him, much better worth living than the old 
 life. 
 
 These thoughts occupied him as he rode up Broad- 
 way. 
 
 At length he left the omnibus, and took the short- 
 est route to his sister's house. When he ascended 
 the steps, and rang the bell, he felt rather a queer 
 sensation come over him. He remembered very well 
 the last time he had ascended those same steps, 
 carrying his cousin's valise. His heart beat quick 
 with excitement, in the midst of which the door wag 
 opened by the set rant. 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 279 
 
 He had already decided to ask for his cousin, pre- 
 ferring to make himself known to him first. 
 
 "Is Charles Marston in?" he inquired. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the servant. " Won't you come 
 in?" 
 
 She threw open the door of the parlor, and Ben, 
 entering, seated himself in an arm-chair, holding hit 
 hat in his hand. 
 
 44 1 wonder if she'd asked me in here if I'd come in 
 my rags? " he asked himself, with a smile. 
 
 The servant went upstairs, where she found Charles 
 in his own room, writing a French exercise. 
 
 " Master Charles," she said, " one of your school- 
 mates is in the parlor. He wants to see you." 
 
 " All right. I'll go right down." 
 
 The mistake was quite a natural one, as boys who 
 attended the same private school frequently called for 
 Charles. 
 
 Charles went downstairs, and entered the parlor. 
 Ben rose as he entered. 
 
 "How are you, Charlie?" said Ben, rising, and 
 offering his hand. 
 
 Charles looked in his face with a puzzled expre* 
 
280 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; OR, 
 
 eion. It was not one of his school-mates, as he had 
 supposed ; but it must be some one that knew him 
 intimately, or he would not have addressed him so 
 familiarly. 
 
 " I ought to know you," he said, apologetically ; 
 " but I can't think who it is." 
 
 "Don't you remember your Cousin Ben, Charlie?** 
 asked our hero. 
 
 " Ben ! " exclaimed Charles, in the greatest aston- 
 ishment. He looked eagerly in our hero's face for a 
 moment, then impulsively threw his arms around 
 Ben's neck, and kissed him. 
 
 " I am so glad to see you, Ben," he said. " Where 
 have you been all the time ? " 
 
 "Then you didn't forget me, Charlie?" said Ben, 
 returning the embrace. 
 
 " No, Ben. I've thought of you many and many 
 a time. We used to be such good friends, you 
 know. We will be again, will we not?" 
 
 "I hope so, Charlie. That was one of my re* 
 sons for coming back." 
 
 "How did you know I was here?" 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 28l 
 
 " I will tell you some time, Charlie ; but not now. 
 Is my sister at home? " 
 
 "Yes. I will call her. She will be very much 
 surprised. We all thought you " 
 
 u Dead, I suppose." 
 
 " Yes ; but I always hoped you would come back 
 again." 
 
 " Don't tell Mary who it is. See if she recognize! 
 me." 
 
 Summoned by Charles, Mrs. Abercrombie came 
 down to the parlor. She was merely told that a gen- 
 tleman desired to see her. 
 
 When she entered the parlor, Ben rose from his 
 seat. 
 
 She looked at him for a moment, and her face 
 lighted up. 
 
 "It's Ben," she said. U O Ben, how could you 
 tay away so long?" 
 
 " What, do you remember me, Mary ? " asked our 
 hero, in surprise. 
 
 "Yes. I knew you by your resemblance to 
 Charles. We always remarked it when you wert 
 young boys together." 
 
f82 BEN, THE LUGGAGE EOT; OJT, 
 
 As the two boys were standing side by side, the 
 resemblance of which she spoke was quite striking. 
 Ben was the larger of the two ; but their features 
 were similar, as well as the color of the hair and 
 eyes, and the similarity of their dress completed the 
 illusion. Mrs. Abercrombie surveyed her brother 
 with satisfaction. She had been afraid he would be 
 coarse and vulgar after so many years of neglect, if 
 he should ever return ; but here he was, to all appear- 
 ance, a young gentleman of whom she need not feel 
 ashamed. 
 
 "Ben must share my room, Cousin Mary," said 
 Charles. "We've got so much to say to each 
 other." 
 
 " I didn't know I was to stay," said Ben, smiling. 
 
 " You mustn't leave us again, Ben," said his sister 
 "Monday you must start for home. Poor mother 
 has mourned for you so long. She will be overjoyed 
 to see you again." 
 
 When Mr. Abercrombie came home, his new 
 brother-in-law was introduced to him. He received 
 Ben cor4ially, and in a way to make him feel at 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 283 
 
 home. In the course ot the morning Mr. Sampson 
 called, and Ben was introduced to him. 
 
 " There's something in your brother's voice that 
 aounds familiar," he said to Mrs. Abercrombie. " 1 
 *ihink I must have met him before." 
 
 " He has not been with us for some years," said 
 Mrs. Abercrombie, who did not care to reveal that 
 Ben was a returned prodigal. 
 
 " Probably I am deceived," said Mr. Sampson. 
 
 Bea, however, knew that Mr. Sampson had good 
 cause to remember him. He was afraid the servant 
 who bad brought him his breakfast some months 
 before in the basement might remember him; but 
 there was no danger of that. She never dreamed of 
 associating the young gentleman, her mistress's 
 brother, with the ragged and dirty boy who had 
 brought the valise for Master Charles. 
 
284 BEN* THE LUGGAGE BOY ; OA, 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 ON Sunday evening, Ben, in company with his 
 ftister. her husband, and Charles, attended a sacred 
 concert in Steinway Hall. As he stepped within the 
 vestibule, he saw two street boys outside, whom he 
 knew well. Their attire was very similar to that 
 which he had himself worn until the day before. 
 They looked at Ben, but never thought of identifying 
 him with the baggage-smasher with whom they had 
 often bunked together. 
 
 " See what it is," thought Ben, " to be well dressed 
 and have fashionable friends." 
 
 As he sat in a reserved seat but a little distance 
 from the platform, surrounded by well-dressed people, 
 he was sometimes tempted to doubt whether he was 
 the same boy who a few days before was wandering 
 about the streets, a friendless outcast. The change 
 was so complete and wonderful that he seemed to 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 283 
 
 himself a ne*v boy. But he enjoyed the change. 14 
 seemed a good deal pleasanter resting in the luxuri 
 ous bedchamber, which he shared with Charles at his 
 sister's house, than the chance accommodations to 
 which he had been accustomed. 
 
 On Monday he started for Philadelphia, on hit 
 journey home. 
 
 We will precede him. 
 
 Mrs. Brandon sat in an arm-chair before the flre, 
 knitting. She was not old, but care and sorrow had 
 threaded her dark hair with silver, and on her brow 
 there were traces of a sorrow patiently borne, but 
 none the less deeply felt. She had never recovered 
 from the loss of her son. Her daughter Mary had 
 inherited something of her father's self-contained, 
 undemonstrative manner ; but Ben had been impulsive 
 and affectionate, and had always been very near 
 his mother's heart. To feel that he had passed from 
 her sight was a great sorrow ; but it was a greater 
 still not to know where he was. He might be suffer- 
 ing pain or privation ; he might have fallen into 
 bad and vicious habits for aught she knew. It would 
 have been a relief, though a sad one, to know that he 
 
286 BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY; Oft, 
 
 was dead. But nothing whatever had been heard of 
 him since the letter of which the reader is already 
 aware. 
 
 Since Mary's marriage Mrs. Brandon nad been 
 very much alone. Her husband was so taciturn and 
 reserved that he was not much company for her ; so 
 she was left very much to her own thoughts, and 
 these dwelt often upon Ben, though six years had 
 elapsed since he left home. 
 
 M If I could see him once more," she often said 
 to herself, " I could die in peace." 
 
 So Mrs. Brandon was busily thinking of Ben on 
 that Monday afternoon, as she sat knitting before the 
 fire ; little thinking that God had heard her prayer, 
 and that the son whom she so longed to see was close 
 at hand. He was even then coming up the gravelled 
 walk that led to the house. 
 
 It may be imagined that Ben's heart beat with 
 unwonted excitement, as the scenes of his early boy- 
 hood once more appeared before him. A thousand 
 boyish memories returned to him, as he trod the 
 familial street. He met persons whom he knew, but 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 28? 
 
 they showed no recognition of him. Six years had 
 wrought too great a change in him. 
 
 He rang the bell. 
 
 The summons was answered by the servant, the 
 only one employed in Mrs. Brandon's modest estab- 
 lishment. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Brandon at home ? " asked Ben. 
 
 " Yes," answered the girl. " Will you walk in ? " 
 
 Ben stepped into the entry, and the girl opened the 
 door of the room in which Mrs. Brandon was seated. 
 
 Mrs. Brandon looked up. 
 
 She saw standing at the door a well-grown lad 
 of sixteen, with a face browned by long exposure 
 to the sun and air. It was six years since she 
 had seen Ben ; but in spite of the changes which time 
 may have wrought, a mother's heart is Tiot easily 
 deceived. A wild hope sprang up in her heart, 
 She tried to rise from her chair, but hei excite 
 was so great that her limbs refused their office. 
 
 " Mother ! " exclaimed Ben, and, hurrying forward^ 
 be threw his arms around his mother's neck. 
 
 " God be thanked ! " she exclaimed, with heartfelt 
 gratitude. " I have missed you so much, Ben." 
 
188 BXN) THE LUGGAGE BOY; 
 
 Ben's heart reproached him as he saw the traces 
 of sorrow upon his mother's face, and felt that he had 
 been the cause. 
 
 44 Forgive me, mother ! " he said. 
 
 "It is all forgotten now. I am so happy 1 " she 
 answered, her eyes filled with joyful tears. 
 
 They sat down together, and Ben began to tell his 
 story. In the midst of it his father entered. He 
 stopped short when he saw Ben sitting beside hit 
 mother. 
 
 " It is Ben come back," said his mother, joyfully. 
 
 Mr. Brandon did not fall on his son's neck and kisa 
 him. That was not his way. He held out his hand, 
 and said, " Benjamin, I am very glad to see you." 
 
 In the evening they talked together over the new 
 plans which Ben's return suggested. 
 
 44 You must stay with us, Ben," said his mother. 
 44 1 cannot part with you now." 
 
 44 1 am getting old, Benjamin," said his father. " I 
 need help in my business. You must stay and 
 help me, and by and by you shall have the whole 
 charge of it." 
 
 44 1 am afraid I don't know enough," said Ben. w I 
 
AMONG THE WHARVES. 28 
 
 haven't studied any since I left home, i don't know 
 RS much as I did when I was ten." 
 
 " You shall study at home for a year," said his 
 father. " The teacher of the academy shall give 
 you private lessons. You can learn a great deal in a 
 year if you set about it." 
 
 To this arrangement Ben acceded. He is no* 
 studying at home, and his abilities being excellent, 
 and his ambition excited, is making remarkabh 
 progress. Next year he will assist his father. Mr 4 
 Brandon seeuis to have changed greatly. He 13 
 no longer stern and hard, but gentle and forbearing, 
 and is evidently proud of Ben, who would run a 
 chance of being spoiled by over-indulgence, if Mr 
 hard discipline as a street boy had not given him 
 a manliness and self-reliance above his years. He ia 
 gradually laying aside the injurious habits which 
 he acquired in his street life, and I confidently hop^ 
 for him a worthy and useful manhood. 
 
 From time to time Ben visits Xew York, and 1 
 renews his intimacy with his Cousin Charles, who 
 returns his warm affection. Charles, in turn, spends 
 19 
 
490 BJ5UV, THE LUGO AGE BOY. 
 
 the summer at Cedarville, where they ar3 insep- 
 arable. 
 
 So we bid farewell to Ben, the Luggage Boy, 
 hoping that he may be able to repay his mother 
 in part for the sorrow which his long absence 
 occasioned her, and that she may live long to 
 enjoy his society. To my young readers, who have 
 received my stories of street life with so much indul 
 gence, I bid a brief farewell, hoping to present them 
 ere long the sixth volume of the Ragged Dick Serio% 
 under the title of 
 
 RUFUS AND ROSE; 
 
 OR, 
 THE FORTUNES OF ROUGH AND RKADT. 
 
TKe FLo\indabo\it Library 
 
 For 
 
 Youi\g People 
 
 THIS WELL-KNOWN SERIES OF BOOKS 
 
 is recognized as the best library of Copyrigbt Books 
 for young people, sold at popular prices. 
 
 THE AUTHORS represented in tbe Roundabout 
 Library are not only tbe best well-known writers of 
 juvenile literature, but tbe titles listed comprise tbe 
 best writings of tbese authors, 
 
 OVER 100 TITLES are now in tbis Library and 
 all new titles will be selected witb tbe same care as 
 in tbe past, for stories tbat are not only entertaining 
 but equally instructive and elevating. Tbis respect 
 for wholesome juvenile literature is what has made 
 and kept tbe Roundabout Library better than any 
 other library of books for Boys and Girls. 
 
 OUR AIM is to maintain tbe supremacy of these 
 books over all others from every viewpoint, and to 
 make the superior features so apparent that those who 
 have once read one, will always return to the 
 Roundabout Library for more. 
 
 Bound In Extra Cloth, with gold title and ap- 
 propriate cover designs stamped in colors, 
 attractive and durable, printed on the best 
 paper from large clear type. Illustrated, 
 I2mo. 
 
 PRICE: PER. VOLUME, . $ .75 
 
 Catalogue mailed on application to the Publishers. 
 
 THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO., Publishers 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
ROUNDABOUT LIBRARY 
 
 FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 
 
 Selected from the works of Alger, Castlemon, Ellis, 
 Stephens, Henty, Mrs. Li I lie and other writers. 
 
 Price, per volume, $0.75 
 
 Across Texas. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 
 Adventures in Canada; or, Life in the Woods. By John 
 
 C. Geikie. 
 
 Alison's Adventures. By Lucy C. Lillie. 
 American Family Robinson, The; or, The Adventures 
 
 of a Family Lost in the Great Desert of the West. 
 
 By W. D. Belisle. 
 Bear Hunters of the Rocky Mountains, The. By Anne 
 
 Bowman. 
 Ben's Nugget; or, A Boy'? Search for a Fortune. By 
 
 Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 Bob Burton; or, the Young Ranchman of the Missouri. 
 
 By Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 Bonnie Prince Charlie; A Tale of Fontenoy and Cul- 
 
 loden. By G. A. Henty. 
 Brave Billy. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 Brave Tom; or, The Battle that Won. By Edward S. 
 
 Ellis. 
 By England's Aid; or? The Freeing of the Netherlands 
 
 (1585-1604). By C. A. Henty. 
 By Pike and Dyke; A Tale of the Rise of the Dutch 
 
 Republic. By G. A. Kenty. 
 By Right of Conquest; or, With Cortez in Mexico. By 
 
 G. A. Henty. 
 
 By Love's Sweet Rule. By Gabrielle Emelie Jackson. 
 Cabin in the Clearing, The. A Tale of the Frontier. 
 
 Bv Edward S. Ellis. 
 
 Camping Out, As Recorded by "Kit." By C. A. Stephens. 
 Camp in the Foothills, The. By Harry Castlemon. 
 
ROUNDABOUT LIBRARY (Continued) 
 Price, per volume, $0.75 
 
 Cornet of Horse, The. A Tale of Marlborough's Wars. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. 
 
 Cruise of the Firefly. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 Dear Days, A Story of Washington School Life. By 
 
 Ada Mickle. 
 Diccon the Bold. A Story of the Days of Columbus. 
 
 By John Russell Coryell. 
 Do and Dare; or, A Brave Boy's Fight for Fortune. By 
 
 Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 Dog Crusoe, The. A Tale of the Western Prairies. By 
 
 R. M. Ballantyne. 
 
 Dog of Cotopaxi, The. By Hezekiah Butterworth. 
 Doris and Theodora. By Margaret Vandegrift. 
 Dr. Gilbert's Daughters. By Margaret H. Matthews. 
 Dragon and the Raven, The; or, The Days of King 
 
 Alfred. By G. A. Henty. 
 Elam Storm, the Wolfer; or, The Lost Nugget. By, 
 
 Harry Castlemon. 
 
 Elinor Belden; or, The Step Brothers. By Lucy C. Lillie. 
 Esther's Fortune. By Lucy C. Lillie. 
 Floating Treasure. By Harry Castlemon. 
 Four Little Indians. By Ella Mary Coates. 
 Family Dilemma. By Lucy C. Lillie. 
 Floating Light of the Goodwin Sands, The. By R. M. 
 
 Ballantyne. 
 
 For Honor's Sake. By Lucy C. Lillie. 
 Four Boys; or, The Story of the Forest Fire. By Edv 
 
 ward S. Ellis. 
 Fox Hunting, As Recorded by "Raed." By C. A. 
 
 Stephens. 
 
 Freaks on the Fells. By R. M. Ballantyne. 
 Gascoyne, the San da I wood Trader. By R. M. Ballantyne^ 
 Girl's Ordeal, A. By Lucy C. Lillie. 
 Gorilla Hunters, The. By R. M. Ballantyne. 
 Great Cattle Trail, The. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 Hunt on Snow Shoes, A. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 Hartwell Farm, The. By Elizabeth B. Comins. 
 Hector's Inheritance; or, The Boys of Smith Institute. 
 
 By Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 
ROUNDABOUT LIBRARY (Continued) 
 Price, per volume, $0.75 
 
 Helen Glenn; or, My Mother's Enemy. By Lucy C. 
 
 Lillie. 
 Helping Himself; or, Grant Thornton's Ambition. By 
 
 Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 Honest Ned. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 Haunted Mine, The. By Harry Castlemon. 
 In Freedom's Cause. A Story of Wallace and Bruce. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. 
 
 In the Reign of Terror; The Adventures of a West- 
 minster Boy. By G. A. Henty. 
 Jack Midwood; or, Bread Cast Upon the Waters. By 
 
 Edward S. Ellis. 
 Joe Wayring at Home; or, The Adventures of a Fly 
 
 Rod. By Harry Castlemon. 
 Kangaroo Hunters, The; or, Adventures in the Bush. 
 
 By Anne Bowman. 
 
 King's Rubies, The. By Adelaide Fulaer Bell. 
 Lady Green Satin. By Baroness Deschesnez. 
 Left on Labrador; or, The Cruise of the Yacht "Curlew." 
 
 By C. A. Stephens. 
 
 Lena Wingo, the Mohawk. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 Lenny, the Orphan. By Margaret Hosmer. 
 Lion of the North. The. A Tale of the Times of Gus- 
 
 tavus Adolphus. By G. A. Henty. 
 Luke Walton; or, The Chicago Newsboy. By Horatio 
 
 Alger, Jr. 
 
 Lynx Hunting. By C. A. Stephens. 
 Limber Lew, the Circus King. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 Marion Berkley. By Elizabeth B. Comins. 
 Missing Pocket-Book, The. By Harry Castlemon. 
 Mysterious Andes, The. By Hezekiah Butterworth. 
 Northern Lights. Stories from Swedish and Finnish 
 
 Authors. 
 Off to the Geysers; or, The Young Yachters in Iceland. 
 
 By C. A. Stephens. 
 On the Amazon; or, The Cruise of the "Rambler." By 
 
 C. A. Stephens. 
 
 On the Trail of the Moose. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 Orange and Green; A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick. 
 
 By G. A. Henty. 
 
ROUNDABOUT LIBRARY (Continued) 
 
 Price, per volume, $0.75 
 
 Oscar In Africa. By Harry Castlemon. 
 
 Our Boys in Panama. By Hezekiah Butterworth. 
 
 Our Fellows; or, Skirmishes with the Swamp Dragoons. 
 
 By Harry Castlemon. 
 
 Path in the Ravine, The. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 Plucky Dick; or, Sowing and Reaping. By Edward S. 
 
 Ellis. 
 
 Queen's Body Guard, The. By Margaret Vandegrift. 
 Question of Honor. By Lynde Palmer. 
 Righting the Wrong. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 River Fugitives t The. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 Remain Kalbris. His Adventures by Sea and Shore. 
 
 Translated from the French of Hector Malot. 
 Rose Raymond's Wards. By Margaret Vandegrift. 
 Ruth Endicott's Way. By Lucy C. Lillie. 
 Shifting Winds; A Story of the Sea. By R. M. Bal- 
 
 lantyne. 
 Snagged and Sunk; or, The Adventures of a Canvas 
 
 Canoe. By Harry Castlemon. 
 Squire's Daughter, The. By Lucy C. Lillie. 
 Steel Horse, The; or, The Rambles of a Bicycle. By 
 
 Harry Castlemon. 
 Store Boy, The; or, The Fortunes of Ben Barclay. By 
 
 Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 
 Storm Mountain. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 Struggling Upward; or, Luke Larkin's Luck. By Horatio 
 
 Alger, Jr. 
 
 Tarn; or, Holding the Fort. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 Through Forest and Fire. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 True to the Old Flag; A Tale of the American War of 
 
 Independence. By G. A. Henty. 
 Two Bequests, The; or, Heavenward Led. By Jane R. 
 
 Sommers. 
 
 Two Ways of Becoming a Hunter. By Harry Castlemon. 
 Under Drake's Flag. A Tale of the Spanish Main. By 
 
 G. A. Henty. 
 
 Under the Holly. By Margaret Hosmer. 
 Under the Red Flag; or, The Adventures of Two Amer- 
 ican Boys in the Days of the Commune. By Edward 
 
 King. 
 
ROUNDABOUT LIBRARY (Continued) 
 Price, per volume, $0.75 
 
 Ways and Means. By Margaret Vandegrift. 
 
 Where Honor Leads. By Lynde Palmer. 
 
 Wilderness Fugitives, The. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 
 Wild Man of the West, The. By R. M. Ballantyne. 
 
 With Clive in India; or, The Beginning of an Empire. 
 By G. A. Henty. 
 
 With Wolfe in Canada; or, The Winning of a Continent. 
 By G. A. Henty. 
 
 Wyoming. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 
 Young Adventurer, The; Tom's Trip Across the Plains. 
 By Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 
 Young Circus Rider, The. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 
 Young Conductor, The; or, Winning His V/ay. By Ed- 
 ward S. Ellis. 
 
 Young Explorer, The; or, Among the Sierras. By Ho- 
 ratio Alger, Jr. 
 
 Young Miner, The; or, Tom Nelson in California. By 
 Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 
 Young Ranchers, The; or, Fighting the Sioux. By 
 Edward S. Ellis. 
 
 Young Wrecker, The. By Richard Meade Bache. 
 
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.'g~?OPUtX^ JUVENIUS. 
 
 HARRY CASTLEMON. 
 
 HOW I CAME TO WRITE MY FIRST BOOK. 
 
 I was sixteen years old I belonged to a composi- 
 tion class. It was our custom to go on the recitation seat 
 every day with clean slates, and we were allowed ten min- 
 utes to write seventy words on any subject the teacher 
 thought suited to our capacity. One day he gave out "What 
 a Man Would See if He Went to Greenland." My heart was 
 in the matter, and before the ten minutes were up I had one 
 side of my slate filled. The teacher listened to the reading 
 of our compositions, and when they were all over he simply 
 said: "Some of you will make your living by writing one 
 of these days." That gave me something to ponder upon. 
 I did not say *so out loud, but I knew that my composition 
 was as good as the best of them. By the way, there was 
 another thing that came in my way just then. I was read- 
 ing at that time one of Mayne Reid's works which I had 
 drawn from the library, and I pondered upon it as much as 
 I did upon what the teacher said to me. In introducing 
 Swartboy to his readers he made use of this expression : 
 "No visible change was observable in Swartboy 's counte- 
 nance. ' ' Now, it occurred to me that if a man of his educa- 
 tion could make such a blunder as that and still write a 
 book, I ought to be able to do it, too. I went home that very 
 day and began a story, "The Old Guide's Narrative," which 
 was sent to the New York Weekly ', and came back, respect- 
 tully declined. It was written on both sides of the sheets 
 but I didn't know that this was against the rules. Nothing 
 abashed, I began another, and receiving some instruction, 
 from a friend of mine who was a clerk in a book store, I 
 wrote it on only one side of the paper. But mind you, he 
 didn't know what I was doing. Nobody knew it ; bat one 
 
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO/S POPUtAl 
 
 day, after a hard Saturday's work the other boys had been, 
 out skating on the brick-pond I shyly broached the subject 
 to my mother. I felt the need of some sympathy. She 
 listened in amazement, and then said : "Why, do you think 
 you could write a book like that ?' ' That settled the matter, 
 and from that day no one knew what I was up to until I sent 
 the first four volumes of Gunboat Series to my father. Was 
 it work ? Well, yes ; it was hard work, but each week I had 
 the satisfaction of seeing the manuscript grow until the 
 "Young Naturalist" was all complete. 
 
 Harry Castlemon in the Writer. 
 
 GUNBOAT SERIES* 
 
 6 vols. BY HARRY CASTXEMON. $6.00- 
 
 I>rank the Young Naturalist. Frank before Vicksburg. 
 Frank on a Gunboat. Frank on the Lower Mississippi. 
 
 Frank in the Woods. Frank on the Prairie. 
 
 ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. BY HARRY CASTI,BMON. $3.00 
 
 Frank Among the Rancheros. Frank in the Mountains, 
 Frank at Don Carlos' Rancho. 
 
 SPORTSMAN'S CLUB SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. BY HARRY CASTI,EMON. $3.75 
 
 The Sportsman's Club in the Saddle. The Sportsman's Club 
 The Sportsman's Club Afloat. Among the TrappersJ] 
 
 FRANK NELSON SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. BY HARRY CASTLEMON. 13-75 
 
 Snowed up. Frank in the Forecastle. The Boy Traders. 
 
 COMPLETE CATALOG OF BEST BOOKS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS 
 MAILED ON APPLICATION TO THE PUBLISHERS 
 
 THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO., PHILADELPHIA 
 
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO/5 POPULAR 
 
 ROUGHING IT SERIES. 
 
 3 rob. BY HARRY CASTI,BMON. $3.00 
 
 George in Camp. George at the Fort 
 
 George at the Wheel. 
 
 ROD AND GUN SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. BY HARRY CASTLBMON. $3-oo 
 
 Don Gordon's Shooting Box. The Young Wild Fowlers. 
 
 Rod and Gun Club. 
 
 GO-AHEAD SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. BY HARRY CASTI,BMON. $3.00 
 
 Tom Newcombe. Go-Ahead. No Moss. 
 
 WAR SERIES. 
 
 6 vols. BY HARRY CASIXBMON. |6.oo 
 
 True to His Colors. Marcy the Blockade-Runner. 
 
 Rodney the Partisan. Marcy the Refugee. 
 
 Rodney the Overseer. Sailor Jack the Trader. 
 
 HOUSEBOAT SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. BY HARRY CASTXBMON. $3.00 
 
 The Houseboat Boys. The Mystery of Lost River Canon. 
 The Young Game Warden. 
 
 AFLOAT AND ASHORE SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. BY HARRY CASTI,BMON. $3-<*o 
 
 Rebellion in Dixie. A Sailor in Spite of Himself. 
 
 The Ten-Ton Cutter. 
 
 COMPLETE CATALOG OF BEST BOOKS FOR BOYS AND ulRUS 
 MAILED ON APPLICATION TO THE PUBLISHERS 
 
 THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO., PHILADELPHIA 
 
HORATIO ALGER, JR. 
 
 The enormous sales of the books of Horatio Algery 
 Jr., show the greatness of his popularity among the 
 boys, and prove that he is one of their most favored 
 writers. I am told that more than half a million copies 
 altogether have been sold, and that ail the large circu- 
 lating libraries in the country have several complete 
 Bets, of which only two or three volumes are ever 
 on the shelves at one time. If this is true, what thou- 
 sands and thousands of boys have read and are reading 
 Mr. Alger's books! His peculiar style of stories, often 
 imitated but never equaled, have taken a hold upon tha 
 young people, and, despite their similarity, are eagerly 
 read as soon as they appear. 
 
 Mr. Alger became famous with the publication of 
 that undying book, "Ragged Dick, or Street Life in New 
 York." It was his first bock for young people, and its 
 success was so great that he immediately devoted him- 
 self to that kind of writing. It was a new and fertile 
 field for a writer then, and Mr. Alger's treatment of it 
 at once caught the fancy of the boys. "Ragged Dick" 
 first appeared in 1868, and ever since then it has been 
 selling steadily, until now it is estimated that about 
 200,000 copies of the series have been sold. 
 
 "Pleasant Hours for Boys and Girls." 
 
 A writer for boys should have an abundant sym- 
 pathy with them. He should be able to enter into their 
 plans, hopes, and aspirations. He should learn to look 
 upon life as they do. Boys oblect to be written down to. 
 A boy's heart opens to the man or writer who under- 
 stands him. 
 From "Writing, Stories for Boys," by Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 
RAGGED DICK SERIES. 
 
 6 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $6.00 
 
 Ragged Dick. Rough and Ready. 
 
 Fame and Fortune. Ben the Luggage Boy. 
 
 Mark the Match Boy. Rufus and Rose. 
 
 TATTERED TOM SERIES First Series. 
 4 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $4.00 
 
 Tattered Tom. Phil the Fiddler. 
 
 Paul the Peddler. Slow and Sure. 
 
 TATTERED TOM SERIES Second Series. 
 4 vols. $4.00 
 
 Julius. Sam's Chance. 
 
 The Young Outlaw. The Telegraph Boy. 
 
 CAMPAIGN SERIES. 
 
 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 
 Frank's Campaign. Charlie Codman's Cruise. 
 
 Paul Prescott's Charge. 
 
 LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES First Series. 
 i vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $4.00 
 
 Luck and Pluck. Strong and Steady. 
 
 Sink or Swim. Strive and Succeed. 
 
 LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES Second Series. 
 
 4 vols. $4.00 
 Try and Trust. Risen from the Ranks. 
 Bound to Rise. Herbert Carter's Legacy. 
 
 BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES. 
 
 4 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $4.00 
 
 Brave and Bold. Shifting for Himself. 
 
 Jack's Ward. Wait and Hope. 
 
 COMPLETE CATALOG OF BEST BOOKS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS 
 MAILED ON APPLICATION TO THE PUBLISHERS 
 
 THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.. PHILADELPHIA 
 
VICTORY SERIES. 
 
 3 Tola. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.0 
 
 Only an Irish Boy. Adrift in the City. 
 
 Victor Vane, or the Young Secretary. 
 
 FRANK AND FEARLESS SERIES. 
 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 
 
 Frank Hunter's Peril. Frank and Fearless. 
 
 The Young Salesman. 
 
 GOOD FORTUNE LIBRARY. 
 
 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 
 
 Walter Sherwood's Probation. A Boy's Fortune. 
 The Young Bank Messenger. 
 
 HOW TO RISE LIBRARY. 
 
 3 vols. By Horatio Alger, Jr. $3.00 
 
 Jed, the Poorhouse Boy. Rupert's Ambition. 
 Lester's Luck. 
 
 COMPLETE CATALOG OF BEST BOOKS FOR BOYS AMD 
 MAILED ON APPLICATION TO THE PUBLISHERS 
 
 THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO., PHILADELPHIA 
 
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO/S POPULAR JUVENIWJS. 
 
 J. T. TROWBRIDGE. 
 
 NEITHER as a writer does he stand apart from the great 
 currents of life and select some exceptional phase or odd 
 combination of circumstances. He stands on the common, 
 level and appeals to the universal heart, and all that he sug- 
 gests or achieves is on the plane and in the line of march of 
 the great body of humanity. 
 
 The Jack Hazard series of stories, published in the late 
 Our Young Folks, and continued in the first volume of St. 
 Nicholas, under the title of "Fast Friends," is no doubt 
 destined to hold a high place in this class of literature. The 
 delight of the boys in them (and of their seniors, too) is 
 well founded. They go to the right spot every time. Trow- 
 bridge knows the heart of a boy like a book, and the heart 
 of a man, too, and he has laid them both open in these books 
 in a most successful manner. Apart from the qualities that 
 render the series so attractive to all young readers, they 
 lave great value on account of their portraitures of American 
 country life and character. The drawing is wonderfully 
 accurate, and as spirited as it is true. The constable, Sel- 
 lick, is an original character, and as minor figures where will 
 we find anything better than Miss Wansey, and Mr. P. Pip- 
 kin, Esq. The picture of Mr. Dink's school, too, is capital, 
 and where else in fiction is there a better nick-name than 
 that the boys gave to poor little Stephen Treadwell, "Step 
 Hen," as he himself pronounced his name in an unfortunate 
 moment when he saw it in print for the first time in his les- 
 son in school. 
 
 On the whole, these books are very satisfactory, and 
 afford the critical reader the rare pleasure of the works that 
 are just adequate, that easily fulfill themselves ard accom- 
 plish all they set out to do. Scribiier's MonJiiy. 
 
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.'S POPULAR JUVENILES. 
 
 JACK HAZARD SERIES. 
 
 6 vols. By J. T. TROWBRIDGE $7.25 
 
 Tack Hazard and His Fortunes Doing His Best. 
 The Young Surveyor. A Chance for Himself. 
 
 Fast Friends. Lawrence's Adventures. 
 
 CHARLES ASBURY STEPHENS. 
 
 "This author wrote his "Camping Out Series" at the very 
 height of his mental and physical powers. 
 
 "We do not wonder at the popularity of these books; there 
 Is a freshness and variety about them, and an enthusiasm in 
 the description of sport and adventure, which even the older 
 folk can hardly fail to share." Worcester Spy. 
 
 "The author of the Camping Out Series is entitled to rank 
 as decidedly at the head of what may be called boys' litera- 
 ture." Buffalo Courier. 
 
 CAMPING OUT SERIES. 
 
 By C. A. STEPHENS. 
 
 AH books in this series are 12 mo. with eight full page illustra- 
 tions. Cloth, extra, 75 cents. 
 
 CAMPING OUT. As Recorded by " Kit." 
 
 "This book is bright, breezy, wholesome, instructive, and 
 stands above the ordinary boys' books of the day by a whole 
 head and shoulders." The Christian Register, Boston. 
 
 LEFT ON LABRADOR; OR, THE CRUISE OF THE SCHOONER YACHT 
 
 "CURLEW." As Recorded by ''Wash." 
 "The perils of the voyagers, the narrow escapes, their 
 strange expedients, and the fun and jollity when danger had 
 passed, will make boys even unconscious of hunger." New 
 Bedford Mercury. 
 OFF TO THE GEYSERS; OR THE YOUNG YACHTERS IN ICELAND. A 
 
 Recorded by "Wade." 
 
 "It is difficult to believe that Wade and Read and Kit and 
 Wash were not live boys, sailng up Hudson Straits, and 
 reigning temporarily over an Esquimaux tribe." The Inde- 
 pendent, New York. 
 
 LYNJK HUNTING: From Notes by the Author of "Camping Out." 
 "Of first quality as a boys' book, and fit to take Its place 
 beside the best." Richmond Enguirer. 
 Fox HUNTING. As Recorded by "Raed." 
 
 "The most spirited and entertaining book that has as yet 
 appeared. It overflows with incident, and is characterized 
 by dash and brilliancy throughout." Boston Gazette. 
 ON THE AMAZON; OR, THE CRUISE OF THE "RAMBLER." As 
 
 Recorded by "Wash." 
 
 "Gives vivid pictures of Brazilian adventure and scenery." 
 - Buffalo Courier. 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 
 on the date to which renewed. 
 Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 
 
 * 
 
 .- "'v- 
 
 OCT 2 5 I 
 
 
 
 JAI 
 
 . 
 
 4 1993 
 
 ; 
 
 REC'D |1f ci'92 
 
 
 rctf 14 jgg 
 
 31? ! 
 
 KtCS. J/yi/22'83 
 
 
 OM a *>**' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 RECEIVED BY 
 
 
 QJC |JL1 
 
 
 riROli ATinNI DEPT 
 
 
 
 
 LD21-35m-8,'72 
 (Q4189810)476 A-32 
 
 General Library 
 
 University of California 
 
 Berkeley 
 
I