"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 City Hall Park, he had pa.s.sed a dozen times, and knew the way to it very well. He was glad that the gentleman 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 ma.s.sive 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.

"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, however, 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 finances, 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 sold them. But it seemed considerably harder work, 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 princ.i.p.al 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 waiting at the ferries and depots, though he did not immediately give up entirely the newspaper trade. But at length he gave it up altogether, and became a "baggage-smasher," by profession, or, as he is styled in the t.i.tle of this book, a luggage boy.

Thus commences a new page in his history.

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 princ.i.p.al 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 circ.u.mstances; 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 advertis.e.m.e.nt. 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 advertis.e.m.e.nt, 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.

"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 father 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!" 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."

"Oh, I hope not. I have heard that boys are treated very badly on board ship. Besides, he might get drowned."