XIII.
PAUL REACHES THE CITY.
Towards evening they drew up before a small house with a neat yard infront.
"I guess we'll get out here," said Mr. Stubbs. "There's a gentlemanlives here that I feel pretty well acquainted with. Shouldn't wonder ifhe'd let us stop over Sunday. Whoa, Goliah, glad to get home, hey?" asthe horse pricked up his ears and showed manifest signs of satisfaction.
"Now, youngster, follow me, and I guess I can promise you some supper,if Mrs. Stubbs hasn't forgotten her old tricks."
They passed through the entry into the kitchen, where Mrs. Stubbs wasdiscovered before the fire toasting slices of bread.
"Lor, Jehoshaphat," said she, "I didn't expect you so soon," and shelooked inquiringly at his companion.
"A young friend who is going to stay with us till Monday," explained thepedler. "His name is Paul Prescott."
"I'm glad to see you, Paul," said Mrs. Stubbs with a friendly smile."You must be tired if you've been traveling far. Take a seat. Here's arocking-chair for you."
This friendly greeting made Paul feel quite at home. Having no children,the pedler and his wife exerted themselves to make the time passpleasantly to their young acquaintance. Paul could not help contrastingthem with Mr. and Mrs. Mudge, not very much to the advantage ofthe latter. On Sunday he went to church with them, and the peculiarcircumstances in which he was placed, made him listen to the sermon withunusual attention. It was an exposition of the text, "My help comethfrom the Lord," and Paul could not help feeling that it was particularlyapplicable to his own case. It encouraged him to hope, that, howeveruncertain his prospects appeared, God would help him if he put his trustin Him.
On Monday morning Paul resumed his journey, with an ample stock ofprovisions supplied by Mrs. Stubbs, in the list of which doughnutsoccupied a prominent place; this being at the particular suggestion ofMr. Stubbs.
Forty or fifty miles remained to be traversed before his destinationwould be reached. The road was not a difficult one to find, and he madeit out without much questioning. The first night, he sought permissionto sleep in a barn.
He met with a decided refusal.
He was about to turn away in disappointment, when he was called back.
"You are a little too fast, youngster. I said I wouldn't let you sleepin my barn, and I won't; but I've got a spare bed in the house, and ifyou choose you shall occupy it."
Under the guise of roughness, this man had a kind heart. He inquiredinto the particulars of Paul's story, and at the conclusion terrifiedhim by saying that he had been very foolish and ought to be sent back.Nevertheless, when Paul took leave of him the next morning, he did notgo away empty-handed.
"If you must be so foolish as to set up for yourself, take this," saidthe farmer, placing half a dollar in his hand. "You may reach the cityafter the banks are closed for the day, you know," he added, jocularly.
But it was in the morning that Paul came in sight of the city. Heclimbed up into a high tree, which, having the benefit of an elevatedsituation, afforded him an extensive prospect. Before him lay the greatcity of which he had so often heard, teeming with life and activity.
Half in eager anticipation, half in awe and wonder at its vastness, ouryoung pilgrim stood upon the threshold of this great Babel.
Everything looked new and strange. It had never entered Paul's mind,that there could be so many houses in the whole State as now rose upbefore him. He got into Broadway, and walked on and on thinking thatthe street must end somewhere. But the farther he walked the thicker thehouses seemed crowded together. Every few rods, too, he came to a crossstreet, which seemed quite as densely peopled as the one on which he waswalking. One part of the city was the same as another to Paul, sincehe was equally a stranger to all. He wandered listlessly along, whitherfancy led. His mind was constantly excited by the new and strangeobjects which met him at every step.
As he was looking in at a shop window, a boy of about his own age,stopped and inquired confidentially, "when did you come from thecountry?"
"This morning," said Paul, wondering how a stranger should know that hewas a country boy.
"Could you tell me what is the price of potatoes up your way?" asked theother boy, with perfect gravity.
"I don't know," said Paul, innocently.
"I'm sorry for that," said the other, "as I have got to buy some for mywife and family."
Paul stared in surprise for a moment, and then realizing that he wasbeing made game of, began to grow angry.
"You'd better go home to your wife and family," he said with spirit, "oryou may get hurt."
"Bully for you, country!" answered the other with a laugh. "You're notas green as you look."
"Thank you," said Paul, "I wish I could say as much for you."
Tired with walking, Paul at length sat down in a doorway, and watchedwith interest the hurrying crowds that passed before him. Everybodyseemed to be in a hurry, pressing forward as if life and death dependedon his haste. There were lawyers with their sharp, keen glances;merchants with calculating faces; speculators pondering on the chancesof a rise or fall in stocks; errand boys with bundles under their arms;business men hurrying to the slip to take the boat for Brooklyn orJersey City,--all seemed intent on business of some kind, even to theragged newsboys who had just obtained their supply of evening papers,and were now crying them at the top of their voices,--and verydiscordant ones at that, so Paul thought. Of the hundreds passing andrepassing before him, every one had something to do. Every one had ahome to go to. Perhaps it was not altogether strange that a feeling ofdesolation should come over Paul as he recollected that he stood alone,homeless, friendless, and, it might be, shelterless for the comingnight.
"Yet," thought he with something of hopefulness, "there must besomething for me to do as well as the rest."
Just then a boy some two years older than Paul paced slowly by, andin passing, chanced to fix his eyes upon our hero. He probably sawsomething in Paul which attracted him, for he stepped up and extendinghis hand, said, "why, Tom, how came you here?"
"My name isn't Tom," said Paul, feeling a little puzzled by thisaddress.
"Why, so it isn't. But you look just like my friend, Tom Crocker."
To this succeeded a few inquiries, which Paul unsuspiciously answered.
"Do you like oysters?" inquired the new-comer, after a while.
"Very much."
"Because I know of a tip top place to get some, just round the corner.Wouldn't you like some?"
Paul thanked his new acquaintance, and said he would.
Without more ado, his companion ushered him into a basement room nearby. He led the way into a curtained recess, and both boys took seats oneon each side of a small table.
"Just pull the bell, will you, and tell the waiter we'll have twostews."
Paul did so.
"I suppose," continued the other, "the governor wouldn't like it much ifhe knew where I was."
"The governor!" repeated Paul. "Why, it isn't against the laws, is it?"
"No," laughed the other. "I mean my father. How jolly queer you are!" Hemeant to say green, but had a purpose in not offending Paul.
"Are you the Governor's son?" asked Paul in amazement.
"To be sure," carelessly replied the other.
Paul's wonder had been excited many times in the course of the day, butthis was more surprising than anything which had yet befallen him. Thathe should have the luck to fall in with the son of the Governor, on hisfirst arrival in the city, and that the latter should prove so affableand condescending, was indeed surprising. Paul inwardly determinedto mention it in his first letter to Aunt Lucy. He could imagine herastonishment.
While he was busy with these thoughts, his companion had finished hisoysters.
"Most through?" he inquired nonchalantly.
"I've got to step out a minute; wait till I come back."
Paul unsuspectingly assented.
He heard his companion say a word to the barkeeper, and then go ou
t.
He waited patiently for fifteen minutes and he did not return; anotherquarter of an hour, and he was still absent. Thinking he might havebeen unexpectedly detained, he rose to go, but was called back by thebarkeeper.
"Hallo, youngster! are you going off without paying?"
"For what?" inquired Paul, in surprise.
"For the oysters, of course. You don't suppose I give 'em away, do you?"
"I thought," hesitated Paul, "that the one who was with me paid,--theGovernor's son," he added, conscious of a certain pride in his intimacywith one so nearly related to the chief magistrate of the Commonwealth.
"The Governor's son," laughed the barkeeper. "Why the Governor lives ahundred miles off and more. That wasn't the Governor's son any more thanI am."
"He called his father governor," said Paul, beginning to be afraid thathe had made some ridiculous blunder.
"Well, I wouldn't advise you to trust him again, even if he's thePresident's son. He only got you in here to pay for his oysters. He toldme when he went out that you would pay for them."
"And didn't he say he was coming back?" asked Paul, quite dumbfounded.
"He said you hadn't quite finished, but would pay for both when you cameout. It's two shillings."
Paul rather ruefully took out the half dollar which constituted hisentire stock of money, and tendered it to the barkeeper who returned himthe change.
So Paul went out into the streets, with his confidence in human naturesomewhat lessened.
Here, then, is our hero with twenty-five cents in his pocket, and hisfortune to make.
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