"I think I shall like the city better," said Sam. "There's a good deal more goin' on."

"I'd like to try the country. You don't live at the West, do you?"

"No."

"Lots of boys goes West. Maybe I'll go there, some time."

"Is it a good place?"

"That's what they say. The boys gets good homes out there on farms."

"Then I don't want to go," said Sam. "I'm tired of farmin'."

By this time the shoes were polished.

"Aint that a bully shine?" asked the boot-black, surveying his work with satisfaction.

"Yes," said Sam. "You know how to do it."

"Course I do. Now where's the stamps?"

Sam drew out ten cents, and handed to the boy.

"Now show me where I can get some dinner."

"All right. Come along!" and the boy, slinging his box over his shoulder, led the way to a small place on Chatham street. It was in a bas.e.m.e.nt, and did not look over-neat; but Sam was too hungry to be particular, and the odor of the cooking was very grateful to him.

"I guess I'll get a plate o' meat, too," said the boot-black. "I aint had anything since breakfast."

They sat down side by side at a table, and Sam looked over the bill of fare. He finally ordered a plate of roast beef, for ten cents, and his companion followed his example. The plates were brought, accompanied by a triangular wedge of bread, and a small amount of mashed potato.

It was not a feast for an epicure, but both Sam and his companion appeared to enjoy it.

Sam was still hungry.

"They didn't bring much," he said. "I guess I'll have another plate."

"I aint got stamps enough," said his companion.

"If you want another plate, I'll pay for it," said Sam, with a sudden impulse of generosity.

"Will you? You're a brick!" said the boot-black heartily. "Then I don't mind. I'll have another."

"Do they have any pie?" asked Sam.

"Course they do."

"Then I'll have a piece afterwards."

He did not offer to treat his companion to pie, for he realized that his stock of money was not inexhaustible. This did not appear to be expected, however, and the two parted on very good terms, when the dinner was over.

CHAPTER XII.

CLARENCE BROWN.

Sam continued to walk about in the neighborhood of the City Hall Park, first in one direction, then in another; but at last he became fatigued. It had been an unusually exciting day, and he had taken more exercise than usual, though he had not worked; for his morning walk, added to his rambles about the city streets, probably amounted to not less than twelve miles. Then, too, Sam began to realize what older and more extensive travellers know well, that nothing is more wearisome than sight-seeing.

So the problem forced itself upon his attention--where was he to sleep? The bed he slept in the night before was more than a hundred miles away. It struck Sam as strange, for we must remember how inexperienced he was, that he must pay for the use of a bed. How much, he had no idea, but felt that it was time to make some inquiries.

[Ill.u.s.tration of Sam speaking with the room-clerk,]

He went into a hotel on the European system, and asked a man who was standing at the cigar stand, "What do you charge for sleeping here?"

"Ask of that man at the desk," said the cigar-vender.

Sam followed directions, and, approaching the room-clerk, preferred the same inquiry.

"One dollar," was the answer.

"One dollar, just for sleeping?" inquired Sam, in surprise, for in his native village he knew that the school-teacher got boarded for three dollars a week, board and lodging complete for seven days.

"Those are our terms," said the clerk.

"I don't care about a nice room," said Sam, hoping to secure a reduction.

"We charge more for our nice rooms," said the clerk.

"Aint there any cheaper hotels?" asked our hero, rather dismayed at his sudden discovery of the great cost of living in New York.

"I suppose so," said the clerk, carelessly; but he did not volunteer any information as to their whereabouts.

Sam walked slowly out of the hotel, quite uncertain where to go, or what to do. He had money enough to pay for a night's lodging, even at this high price, but he judged wisely that he could not afford to spend so large a part of his small stock of money.

"I wonder where the boys sleep that black boots," he thought. "They can't pay a dollar a night for sleeping."

He looked around for the boy who had guided him to a restaurant, but could not find him.

It was now eight o'clock, and he begun to think he should have to go back to the hotel after all, when a shabby-looking man, with watery eyes and a red nose, accosted him.

"Are you a stranger in the city, my young friend?" he asked.

"Yes," said Sam, rather relieved at the opportunity of speaking to somebody.

"So I thought. Where are you boarding?"

"Nowhere," said Sam.