CHAPTER V.
A BEER-GARDEN IN THE BOWERY.
Ben sat down again in his old seat, and occupied himself once more inlooking about him. After a while he became sleepy. Besides having takena considerable walk, he had not slept much the night before. As no oneoccupied the bench but himself, he thought he might as well make himselfcomfortable. Accordingly he laid his bundle crosswise at one end, andlaid back, using it for a pillow. The visor of his cap he brought downover his eyes, so as to shield them from the afternoon sun. The seat washard, to be sure, but his recumbent position rested him. He did not meanto go to sleep, but gradually the sounds around him became an indistincthum; 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 attractingattention. Two ragged boys espied him, and held a low conferencetogether.
"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 wasfast asleep. The touch did not rouse him to consciousness.
"Just lift up his head, Mike, and I'll take the bundle," said the largerof the two boys.
This was done.
"Now, let him down softly."
So the bundle was removed, and poor Ben, wandering somewhere in the landof 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 tootired 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'shonesty was not very great. Considering the transaction in which theywere now engaged, it is not surprising that there should have been amutual distrust. Being unable to make any bargain, Jim decided to takehis share of the booty round to a second-hand clothes-dealer in ChathamStreet. Here, after considerable higgling, he succeeded in selling theshirt for sixteen cents, which was less than his companion had offered.However, it was cash down, and so was immediately available,--animportant consideration in the present state of Jim's finances. "A birdin the hand," as he considered, "was worth two in the bush."
Jim immediately purchased a cigar with a portion of his dishonest gains,and, procuring a light, walked about in a state of high enjoyment,puffing away as coolly as a man of twice his years.
Meanwhile Ben continued to sleep, happily unconscious of the loss of hisentire personal possessions. In his dreams he was at home once more,playing with his school companions. Let him sleep! He will waken soonenough 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. Inhis dreams he had been back again to his native village, and he couldnot at once recall his change of circumstances. But it all came back tohim soon enough. He realized with a slight pang that he had a home nolonger; that he was a penniless vagrant, for whom the hospitality of thestreets alone was open. He did wish that he could sit down at theplentiful home table, and eat the well-cooked supper which was alwaysprovided; that is, if he could blot out one remembrance: when he thoughtof the unjust punishment that had driven him forth, his pride rose, andhis determination became as stubborn as ever. I do not defend Ben inthis. He was clearly wrong. The best of parents may be unintentionallyunjust at times, and this is far from affording an adequate excuse for aboy to leave home. But Ben had a great deal of pride, and I am onlytelling you how he felt.
Our young adventurer did not at first realize the loss which he hadsustained. It was at least five minutes before he thought of his bundleat all. At length, chancing to look at the seat beside him, he missedit.
"Where can it be, I wonder?" he thought, perplexed.
He looked under the bench, thinking that perhaps it had rolled off. Butit need not be said that it was not to be seen.
Ben was rather disturbed. It was all he had brought from home, andconstituted his entire earthly possessions.
"It must have rolled off, and been picked up by somebody," he thought;but the explanation was not calculated to bring any satisfaction. "Idid not think I should fall asleep."
It occurred to him that some of the boys near by might have seen it. Sohe went up to a group of boot-blacks near by, one of whom was Jim, whohad actually been concerned in the robbery. The other boys knew nothingof 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.
"I had a small bundle tied up in a newspaper," said Ben. "I put it undermy head, and then fell asleep. Now I can't find it."
"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; "most likely it'sstole."
"Do you think so?" asked Ben, anxiously.
"In course, you might expect it would be."
"I didn't mean to go to sleep."
"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. Whenit 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 hesaw that no satisfaction was likely to be obtained in this quarter, sohe walked away rather depressed. It certainly hadn't been a luckyday,--this first day in the city. He had been rejected in half-a-dozenstores in his applications for employment, had spent nearly all hismoney, and been robbed of all his clothing except what he wore.
Again Ben began to feel an appetite. He had eaten his dinner late, butit had consisted of a plate of meat only. His funds being now reduced totwo cents, he was obliged to content himself with an apple, which didsomething 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 tosleep out of doors. It was warm weather, and plenty of street boys didit. But to Ben it would be a new experience, and he regarded it withsome dread. He wished he could meet with Jerry Collins, his acquaintanceof the morning. From him he might obtain some information that would beof 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 to pass them. He had become tired of thepark; besides, he had got over a part of his fatigue, and felt able towalk about and explore the city. He turned at a venture up ChathamStreet, and was soon interested in the sights of this peculiarthoroughfare,--the shops open to the street, with half their stock intrade exposed on the sidewalk, the importunities of the traders, and theappearance of the people whom he met. It seemed very lively andpicturesque to Ben, and drew away his attention from his own awkwardposition.
He was asked to buy by some of the traders, being promised wonderfulbargains; but his penniless condition put him out of the reach oftemptation.
So he wandered on until he came to the Bowery, a broad avenue, widerthan Broadway, and lined by shops of a great variety, but of a gradeinferior to those of its more aristocratic neighbor.
Here, also, the goods are liberally displayed on the sidewalk, and aregenerally labelled with low prices, which tempts many purchasers. Thepurchaser, however, must look carefully to the quality of the goodswhich he buys, or he will in many cases find the low price merely asnare and a delusion, and regret that he had not paid more liberally andbought a better article.
Later in the evening, on his return walk, Ben came to an establishmentbrilliant with light, from which proceeded strains of music. Lookingin, he saw that it was filled with small tables, around which wereseated men, women, and children. They had glasses before them from whichthey drank. This was a Lager Beer Hall or Garden,--an institutiontransplanted from Germany, and chiefly patronized by those of Germanbirth or extraction. It seemed bright and cheerful, and our youngadventurer thought it would be pleasant to go in, and spend an hour ortwo, listening to the music; but he was prevented by the consciousnessthat he had no money to spend, and might be considered an intruder.
While he was looking in wistfully, he was struck on the back; andturning, saw, to his surprise, the face of his only acquaintance in NewYork, Jerry Collins, the boot-black.
"I am glad to see you," he said, eagerly offering his hand, withoutconsidering that Jerry's hand, unwashed during the day, was stained withblacking. He felt so glad to meet an acquaintance, however, that hewould not have minded this, even if it had occurred to him.
"The same to you," said Jerry. "Are you going in?"
"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 enteredthe main apartment, which was of large size. On one side, about half waydown, was a large instrument some like an organ, from which the musicproceeded. The tables were very well filled, Germans largelypredominating among the guests.
"Sit down here," said Jerry.
They took seats at one of the tables. Opposite was a stout German andhis wife, the latter holding a baby. Both had glasses of lager beforethem, and the baby was also offered a share by its mother; but, from thecontortions 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.
"Yaw," said Jerry; "my father was an Irishman, and my mother was aDutchman."
Jerry's German, however, seemed to be limited, as he made no furtherattempts to converse in that language.
The glasses were brought. Jerry drank his down at a draught, but Ben,who had never before tasted lager, could not at once become reconciledto its bitter taste.
"Don't you like it?" asked Jerry.
"Not very much," said Ben.
"Then I'll finish it for you;" and he suited the action to the word.
Besides the lager a few plain cakes were sold, but nothing moresubstantial. Evidently the beer was the great attraction. Ben could nothelp observing, with some surprise, that, though everybody was drinking,there was not the slightest disturbance, or want of decorum, ordrunkenness. The music, which was furnished at intervals, was of verygood quality, and was listened to with attention.
"I was goin' to Tony Pastor's to-night," said Jerry, "if I hadn't metyou."
"What sort of a place is that?" asked Ben.
"Oh, it's a bully place--lots of fun. You must go there some time."
"I think I will," answered Ben, mentally adding, "if I ever have moneyenough."
Here the music struck up, and they stopped to listen to it. When thiswas over, Jerry proposed to go out. Ben would have been willing to staylonger; but he saw that his companion did not care so much for the musicas himself, and he did not wish to lose sight of him. To be alone in agreat city, particularly under Ben's circumstances, is not verypleasant, and our young adventurer determined to stick to his newacquaintance, who, though rough in his manners, had yet seemed inclinedto be friendly, and Ben felt sadly in need of a friend.
Ben, the Luggage Boy; Or, Among the Wharves Page 5