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Preface
In presenting "Ben, the Luggage Boy," to the public, as the fifth of the Ragged Dick Series, the author desires to say that 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 different 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 appearance within two years. The writer cannot close without expressing anew his thanks for the large share of favor which has been accorded to the volumes of the present series, and takes this opportunity of saying that, in their preparation, invention has played but a subordinate part. For his delineations of character and choice of incidents, he 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 has sought to describe.
NEW YORK, April 5, 1876.
Chapter 1
INTRODUCES BEN, THE LUGGAGE BOY."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 yesterday. It's most time for the train to be in from Philadelphy. 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 constructed on the most approved system of ventilation. He appeared to be about twelve years old.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 evidently 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 needless 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 member 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, and it was frayed 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 his wardrobe. We shall learn in time what were his 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 questioner 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 stranger is liable to be taken in by assumed virtue, and waste sympathy on those who do not deserve it. But there are...
Chapter 2
HOW BEN COMMENCED HIS STREET LIFE.One pleasant morning, six years before the date at which this story commences, a small coasting-vessel drew up at a North River pier in the lower part of the city. It was loaded with freight, but there was 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."Well, bub, here we are," said the captain as he passed. "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.""Thank you, sir; good-by.""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 undertaken to support himself, leaving behind him a comfortable 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-tempered, 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. 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...
Chapter 3
STREET SCENES."Here's Broadway," said Jerry, suddenly.They emerged from the side street on which they had 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."That's Trinity Church.""Do you go to church there?""I don't go anywhere else," said Jerry, equivocally. "What's the use of going to church?""I thought everybody went to church," said Ben, speaking from his experience in a country village "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 I'd a good sight rather go to the old Bowery Theatre.""But you ought not to say that," said Ben, a little startled."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. I'd 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 had been standing still at the street corner."I'm goin' to Nassau Street," said Jerry. "If you want to go up Broadway, that's the way."Without waiting for an answer he darted across 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 have 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...
Chapter 4
A RESTAURANT ON FULTON STREET.Ben kept on his way, looking in at the shop windows 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 run 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 the truth here, for he was rather larger and stouter 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 was at first tempted to say yes, but decided to answer truthfully."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, reluctantly."Then I'm afraid you will not answer my purpose. We 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. 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, he 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 applying 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...
Chapter 5
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 considerable walk, he had not slept much the night before. 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 was sleeping soundly.Of course he could not sleep in so public a place 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 bundle," said the larger of the two boys.This was done."Now, let him down softly."So the bundle was removed, and poor Ben, wandering somewhere in the land of dreams, 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.""It'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....
Chapter 6
THE BURNING BALES."Where are you going to sleep to-night?" asked Ben, introducing a subject which had given him some anxiety."I don't know," said Jerry, carelessly. "I'll find a place somewhere.""I'll go with you, if you'll let me," said Ben."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 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, and followed that street down past Trinity Church, turning 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 is lined with wharves. Jerry, of course, did 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."I should think somebody would steal the bales," said Ben. "Are they left out here all night?""There's a watchman round here somewhere," said Jerry. "He stays here all night to guard the bales.""Will he let us sleep here?""I don't know," said Jerry. "We'll creep in, when he isn't looking."The watchman was sitting down, leaning his back against one of the bales. A short...
Chapter 7
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 was 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 quite as comfortable, if not more so, than their former bed, and both boys were soon asleep. How long he slept Ben did not know, but he was roused to consciousness by a rude shake."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 conscious 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, knowing 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 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...
Chapter 8
BEN COMMENCES HIS BUSINESS CAREER.Ben soon took his stand in the street, with a roll of papers under his arm, supplied by the generosity of 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 succeeded better than those who were older in the business.But his neat dress operated to his disadvantage in another quarter. His business rivals, who were, with scarcely an exception, dressed with no great pretensions 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 indignant 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, 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...
Chapter 9
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 experience 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 dollar 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 purpose. Of the remaining sixty-two, a part must be 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 unsatisfied, 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 time the two upper stories of the building at the corner of Nassau and Fulton Streets. On the first floor was the office of the "Daily...
Chapter 10
FURTHER EXPERIENCES.Ben had a comfortable night's rest, and when he awoke in the morning he felt that a bed at the Newsboys' Lodge was considerably better 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 his 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 companions, and found himself served with a bowl of coffee and a generous slice of bread. Sometimes, but not 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, nor 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 Lodging 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 of New York to maintain this and kindred institutions.Ben had, after breakfast, eighty-five cents to commence the day on. But of this sum, it will be remembered, he had reserved fifty cents to pay the friendly reporter for his loan. This left him a working capital of thirty-five cents. It was not a large sum to do business on, but it was enough, and with it Ben felt quite...
Chapter 11
BEN BECOMES A BAGGAGE-SMASHER.The restaurant was a small one, and not fashionable 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. "I don't care to take it."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 familiar page, and he felt a qualm of homesickness. The neat house in which he had lived since he was born, his mother's gentle face, rose up before him, compared with his present friendless condition, and the tears rose to his eyes. But he was in a public restaurant, 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.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...
Chapter 12
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 comfortable 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 severity, and more than once Ben had felt aggrieved by his treatment of him. Mrs. Brandon was quite different from her husband, being gentle and kind, and 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 preoccupation. 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 his age.""But think of a boy of ten going out in the world by himself!""There are many boys of ten who have to do it, mother.""What could the poor boy do?""He might suffer a little; but if he does, he will the sooner come home.""I wish he might," said Mrs. Brandon, with a sigh. "I think your 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...
Chapter 13
THE FIRST CIGAR.It was a week or more after Ben started in business as a baggage-smasher, that, in returning from carrying a carpet-bag to Lovejoy's Hotel, on Broadway, he fell in with his first city acquaintance, Jerry Collins. Jerry had just "polished up" a gentleman'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?""I'm 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 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."I'll 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 Jerry, coolly."Do you smoke?" inquired Ben."In course I do. Don't you?""No.""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 puff. Ben did not particularly enjoy it; but thought he might as well learn now as any other time. His 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 his head and his stomach got continually worse."I don't like it," gasped Ben, throwing down the cigar. "I'm going to stop.""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 home, for the first time since his arrival in the city."You do look rather green," said Jerry. "Maybe you're going to have the...
Chapter 14
THE PASSENGER FROM ALBANY.Ben did not confine himself to any particular pier 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 promising. 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 passengers with an attentive eye, fixing his attention upon those who were encumbered with carpet-bags, valises, or bundles. These he marked out as his possible patrons, and accosted them professionally."Smash yer baggage, sir?" he said to a gentleman carrying a valise.The latter stared hard at Ben, evidently misunderstanding 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 enjoyed 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 had listened to the conversation 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 'baggage-smasher,' and carrying it is called 'smashing.'""Indeed, that's a very singular expression to use. Well, my lad, I think I understand you now. You have no hostile intentions, then?""Nary a one," answered Ben."Then I may see fit to employ you. Of course you know the way everywhere?""Yes, sir.""You may take my valise as far as Broadway. There I shall take a stage."Ben took the valise, and raising it to his shoulders was about to precede his patron."You can walk along by my side," said the gentleman; "I want to talk to you.""All right, governor," said Ben. "I'm ready for an interview.""How do...
Chapter 15
THE ROOM UNDER THE WHARF.It was at a late hour when the boys left the theatre. 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 interchanged."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 sword shall drink thy foul heart's blood!'"Ben gave this with the stage emphasis, so far as he could 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 I'd 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.""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. It may be called a double wharf. As originally built, it was found too low for the class of vessels that used it, and another flooring was built over the first, leaving a considerable space between the two. Its capabilities for a private rendezvous occurred to a few boys, who forthwith proceeded to avail themselves of it. It was necessary to carry on their proceedings 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...
Chapter 16
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 gentleman 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, varying 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 the boy."No, I'll 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 like 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 knows the way all about the city. Don't you?" he asked, turning to Ben."Where do you want to go?" asked Ben."To No.--Madison Avenue.""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 services. 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...
Chapter 17
BEN FORMS A RESOLUTION."Does this car go up Madison Avenue?" asked Charles, after they had taken their seats."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."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 sister, 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. 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?""No," answered Ben, "I can't say as I have. He aint 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."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 have 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 display 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. His business had carried him to all parts of the...
Chapter 18
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 services. 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 had 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, he 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 knew 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 regarded his street life with different eyes, and felt ready to give it up, as soon as he could present himself to his parents without too great a sacrifice of his 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 was a handsome office on the lower floor. Two or 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?" inquired a clerk, in a tone which indicated that he...
Chapter 19
WHICH IS THE GUILTY PARTY?It was an exciting moment for Ben. He felt that his character for honesty was at stake. In case 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 as soon as possible. But one thing he did not anticipate, and this was Ben's immediate discovery of his loss. On this subject he was soon enlightened. He saw Ben jump from the horse-car, and his first impulse 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."I don't understand you," said the pickpocket loftily."Look here, 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 the "gentleman," affecting to be outraged by such a charge. "Do you dare to accuse a gentleman like me of robbing...
Chapter 20
HOW ALL CAME RIGHT IN THE MORNING.It is 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 the father of a family, was on the point of releasing him, when the first officer came up."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 the first, "if he tries another of his games. You didn't stop to say good-by, my man.""I told you I had an important engagement," said the pickpocket, sulkily,--"one that I cared more 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 policeman, 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 I did. If I guess right, he'll find it worth his while to 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. "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 voluntarily placed himself on the other...
Chapter 21
IN A NEW LINE."Ten dollars!" said Ben to himself, with exultation. "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 reserve to fall back upon in case of need. The ten 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 other forty dollars would no doubt take him a considerable time. The business of a "baggage-smasher," as Ben knew from experience, is precarious, 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 objection. 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 unsalable 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 consideration 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 frequently 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's ragged attire."No," said...
Chapter 22
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 moderate-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.""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 before 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 considerably heavier than would have been imagined from its size."I wonder what's in it," thought Ben, who found it tugging away at his arms. "If it's shirts they're cast-iron. Maybe they're just comin' in fashion."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...
Chapter 23
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 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. Gradually the number had increased, until from twenty to thirty boys made it a rendezvous nightly. By some means a stove had been procured, and what was more difficult, got safely down without observation, 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...
Chapter 24
BEN TRANSFORMED.Ben worked away steadily at his double occupation, saving money 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 forty when he had reached that sum, but he resisted the temptation."I aint goin' to do things by halves," he said to himself. "I can't do it for less'n fifty dollars. I must wait awhile."But the moment had arrived when he could accomplish his purpose. As Ben looked down at his ragged attire, which was in a considerably worse condition 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."I 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 his 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, "after I've got dressed decently.""That's a good resolution, my boy; I hope you'll stick to it.""It's what I've 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 Broadway, 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...
Chapter 25
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 stockings. The first he did not care to keep. He therefore 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 suggested that he should first of all go to a restaurant and get some dinner.On the way thither he met two of his street acquaintances, who passed him without the slightest 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 influenced 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 attracting his observation. He did not wish to be remembered 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 in the street together.He got on board an omnibus, and took his seat. A lady soon after entered, and sat down beside him She drew out some money from her purse, and, passing it to Ben, said, "Will you have the kindness to pass up my fare, sir?""Certainly," said Ben, politely.It was a small incident,...
Chapter 26
THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN.On Sunday evening, Ben, in company with his sister, 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 himself a new boy. But he enjoyed the change. It seemed a good deal pleasanter resting in the luxurious 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 his journey home.We will precede him.Mrs. Brandon sat in an arm-chair before the fire, 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 suffering 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 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 had 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."If I...
