CHAPTER X.
FURTHER EXPERIENCES.
Ben had a comfortable night's rest, and when he awoke in the morning hefelt that a bed at the Newsboys' Lodge was considerably better than abale of cotton, or a hay-barge. At an early hour in the morning the boyswere called, and began to tumble out in all directions, interchanging,as they performed their hasty toilet, a running fire of "chaff" andgood-humored jesting, some of which consisted of personal allusions thereverse of complimentary.
Many of the boys stopped to breakfast, but not all. Some wanted to getto work earlier, and took breakfast at a later hour at some cheaprestaurant, earning it before they ate it. Ben, however, had paid forhis breakfast in advance, knowing that he could not get it so cheapelsewhere, and so waited to partake of it. He took his place at a longtable with his companions, and found himself served with a bowl ofcoffee and a generous slice of bread. Sometimes, but not always, alittle cold meat is supplied in addition. But even when there is breadonly, the coffee warms the stomach, and so strengthens the boys fortheir labors outside. The breakfast was not as varied, of course, as Benhad been accustomed to at home, nor as tempting as my young readers havespread before them every morning; but it was good of its kind, and Benate 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 boysis surprising, considering the large number who frequent the LodgingHouse in the course of a year, had invited him to come again. TheLodging House, though it cannot supply the place of a private home,steps between hundreds of boys and complete vagabondage, into which, butfor its existence, they would quickly lapse. Probably no money is morewisely expended than that which enables the Children's Aid Society ofNew York to maintain this and kindred institutions.
Ben had, after breakfast, eighty-five cents to commence the day on. Butof this sum, it will be remembered, he had reserved fifty cents to paythe friendly reporter for his loan. This left him a working capital ofthirty-five cents. It was not a large sum to do business on, but it wasenough, and with it Ben felt quite independent.
In front of the 'Times' office, Ben met Rough and Ready,--the newsboywho had taken his part the day before. He had got the start of Ben, andwas 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 motherand Rose. It's enough sight better than our room on Leonard Street. ButI can't leave my mother and sister."
"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 hisadvice, he purchased nearly to the amount of his entire capital, knowingthat it would come back to him again, so that his plan for paying thereporter could still be carried out.
"You can stand near me, if you want to, Ben," said Rough 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 ofbusiness."
Ben, while engaged in selling papers himself, had an opportunity towatch the ready tact with which Rough and Ready adapted himself to thedifferent persons whom he encountered. He succeeded in effecting a salein many cases where others would have failed. He had sold all his papersbefore Ben had disposed of two-thirds of his, though both began with anequal number.
"Here, Ben," he said, generously, "give me three of your papers, I'llsell 'em for you."
By this friendly help, Ben found himself shortly empty-handed.
"Shall I buy any more?" he inquired of his companion.
"It's gettin' late for mornin' papers," said Rough and Ready. "You'dbetter wait till the evenin' papers come out. How much money have youmade?"
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?" asked 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 mother," he said. "It's littleenough to support a family."
"Doesn't your father earn anything?"
"My _step_-father," repeated the other, emphasizing the first syllable."No, he doesn't earn much, and what he does earn, he spends for rum. Wecould do a great deal better without him," he continued.
Ben began to see that he had a much easier task before him in supportinghimself, than his new friend in supplying the wants of a family of four;for Mr. Martin, his step-father, did not scruple to live partially onthe earnings of his step-son, whose industry should have put him toshame.
"I guess I'll go home a little while," said Rough and Ready. "I'll seeyou again this afternoon."
Left to himself, Ben began to walk around with an entirely differentfeeling from that which he experienced the day before. He had one dollarand twenty cents in his pocket; not all of it his own, but the greaterpart of it his own earnings. Only twenty-four hours before his prospectsseemed very dark. Now he had found friends, and he had also learned howto help himself.
As he was walking down Nassau Street, he suddenly espied, a littledistance ahead, the reporter who had done him such an important servicethe day before.
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 yesterday," said Ben.
"Oh, you're the boy I set up in business yesterday. Well, how have youmade out?"
"Pretty well," said Ben, with satisfaction. "Here's the money you lentme;" 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, mentioning the amount.
"You've succeeded capitally. Where did you sleep last night?"
"At the Newsboys' Lodge."
"That's better than sleeping out. I begin to think, my young friend, youmust have a decided business talent. It isn't often a new boy succeedsso 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," said the reporter; "youmay need it."
"No," said Ben, "I've got enough to keep me along."
"You've got to get dinner."
"That won't cost me more than twenty-five cents; then I shall haveforty-five to buy papers this afternoon."
"Well," said the young man, "if you don't need it, I will take it; buton one condition."
"What is that?" asked Ben.
"That if you get hard up at any time, you will come to me, and I willhelp you out."
"Thank you," said Ben, gratefully. "You are very kind."
"I know that you boys are apt to have hard times; but if you workfaithfully and don't form any bad habits, I think you will get along.Here is my card, and directions for finding me, if you need anyassistance at any time."
Ben took the card, and went on his way, feeling more glad that he hadpaid his debt than if the money were still in his possession. He feltthat it was a partial atonement for the theft which he had nearlycommitted the day before.
As he walked along, thinking of what he had just done, he suddenly foundhimself shoved violently off the sidewalk. Looking angrily to see whowas the aggressor, he recognized Mike Rafferty, who had been detectedthe night before in wearin
g his stolen shirt.
"What's that for?" demanded Ben, angrily.
"It's to tache you better manners, ye spalpeen!" 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 while I was asleep in thePark."
Mike was about to retaliate with another blow, when the sight of anapproaching policeman warned him of peril, and he retreated in goodorder, sending back looks of defiance at our hero, whom he could notforgive for having proved him guilty of theft.
Ben's exploration of the city had thus far been very limited. He hadheard of the Battery, and he determined to go down there. The distancewas not great, and in a few minutes he found himself at the lower end ofthe Manhattan Island, looking with interest at the shores across theriver. Here was Castle Garden, a large structure, now used for recentlyarrived emigrants, but once the scene of one of Jenny Lind's triumphs.Now it would seem very strange to have a grand concert given in such abuilding and in such a locality. However, Ben knew nothing of thepurposes of the building, and looked at it ignorantly. The Battery hethought might once have been pretty; but now the grass has been worn offby pedestrians, and the once fashionable houses in the neighborhood havelong ago been deserted by their original proprietors, and been turnedinto warehouses, or cheap boarding-houses.
After looking about a little, Ben turned to go back. He began to feelhungry, and thought he might as well get some dinner. After that waseaten it would be time for the evening papers. He was intending to goback to Fulton Street; but his attention was drawn to a restaurant bythe bills of fare exposed outside. A brief examination satisfied himthat the prices were quite as moderate as in Fulton Street, and hedecided to enter, and take his dinner here.
Ben, the Luggage Boy; Or, Among the Wharves Page 10
