CHAPTER XI.
FIRST EXPERIENCES IN THE CITY.
There are few boys who do not enjoy a trip on the railroad, especiallyfor the first time. The five hours which Sam spent on his journey gavehim unqualified delight. Occasionally his attention was called offfrom the scenery by an exclamation from the old lady, who at everyjolt thought the cars were off the track.
Sam liberally patronized the apple and peanut merchant, who about oncean hour walked through the cars. The crackers which he had purchasedat the grocery store had not spoiled his appetite, but rather appearedto sharpen it. The old lady apparently became hungry also, for shecalled the apple vender to her.
"What do you ask for them apples?" she inquired.
"The largest are three cents apiece, the smallest, two cents."
"That's an awful price. They aint worth half that."
"We can't sell 'em for less, and make any profit."
"I'll give you a cent for that one," she continued, pointing to thelargest in the basket.
"That! Why, that's a three-center. Can't take it nohow."
"I'll give you three cents for them two."
"No, ma'am, you may have 'em for five cents."
"Then I won't buy 'em. My darter will give me plenty for nothin'."
"She may, but I can't."
So the old lady heroically put away the temptation, and refused topurchase.
All things must have an end, and Sam's journey was at length over. Thecars entered the great depot. Sam hurried out of the cars, nevergiving a thought to the old lady, who expected his help in carryingout her bandboxes. He was eager to make his first acquaintance withthe streets of New York. There was a crowd of hackmen in waiting, allof whom appeared to Sam to be seeing which could talk fastest.
"Have a carriage, sir? Take you to any hotel."
One of them got hold of Sam by the arms, and attempted to lead him tohis carriage.
"Hold on a minute, mister," said Sam, drawing back. "Where are yougoin' to take me?"
"Anywhere you say. Astor House, St. Nicholas, or any other."
"Is it far?"
"About five miles," said the hackman, glibly.
"How much are you goin to charge?"
"Only three dollars."
"Three dollars!" repeated Sam, in amazement.
He had less than seven dollars now, and, though he was notparticularly provident, he knew that it would never do to spend almosthalf his slender stock of money for cab-hire.
"Never mind," said he. "I'll walk."
"You can't; it's too far," said the hackman, eager for a fare.
"I'll try."
So Sam walked out of the depot, and walked away. He didn't knowexactly where to go, and thought he would follow a man with acarpet-bag who appeared to know his way. This man unconsciously guidedhim to Broadway. Sam realized, from the stately character of thebuildings, that he was in an important street, and, cutting loose fromhis guide, walked down towards the City Hall Park. It seemed to himlike a dream; these beautiful warehouses, showy stores, and the movingthrong, which never seemed to grow less, surprised him also. Though heknew in advance that New York must be very different from the littlecountry town which, until now, had been his home, he was not preparedfor so great a difference, and wandered on, his mouth and eyes wideopen.
At last he reached the City Hall Park, and, catching sight of a benchon which one or two persons were already sitting, Sam, feeling tiredwith his walk, entered the Park, and sat down too.
"Black yer boots?" inquired a dirty-faced boy, with a box slung overhis shoulders.
Sam looked at his shoes, begrimed with a long country walk, andhesitated.
"What do you ask?" he said.
"It's worth a quarter to black them shoes," said the boy, swingingthem critically.
"Then I can't afford it,"
"Twenty cents."
"No," said Sam. "I've got to earn my own living, and I can't affordit. Is blackin' boots a good business?"
"Some days it is, but if it comes rainy, it isn't. I'll give you abully shine for ten cents."
"Will you show me afterwards where I can get some dinner cheap?" askedSam, who was still hungry.
"Yes," said the boot-black. "I know a tip-top place."
"Is it far off?"
"Right round in Chatham street--only a minute's walk."
"All right. Go ahead. I'll give you ten cents."
Sam felt that he was paying his money not only for the actual servicedone, but for valuable information besides. On the whole, though heknew he must be economical, it seemed to him a paying investment.
"Did you come from the country?" asked the young knight of theblacking-brush, while he was vigorously brushing the first shoe.
"Yes," said Sam. "I only got here just now."
"That's what I thought."
"Why?"
"Because you look like a greenhorn."
"Do you mean to insult me?" asked Sam, nettled.
"No," said the other; "only if you've never been here before of courseyou're green."
"I won't be long," said Sam, hastily.
"Course you won't, 'specially if you have me to show you round."
"Have you lived long in New York?" inquired Sam.
"I was born here," said the boy.
"Have you been long blackin' boots?"
"Ever since I was knee-high to a door-step."
"Then you make a living at it?"
"I don't starve. What made you leave the country?"
"I got tired of working on a farm."
"Did you have enough to eat?"
"Yes."
"And a good bed to sleep in?"
"Yes."
"Then you'd ought to have stayed there," said the boot-black.
"I think I shall like the city better," said Sam. "There's a good dealmore 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 workwith 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 hisshoulder, led the way to a small place on Chatham street. It was in abasement, and did not look over-neat; but Sam was too hungry to beparticular, 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 ainthad anything since breakfast."
They sat down side by side at a table, and Sam looked over the bill offare. He finally ordered a plate of roast beef, for ten cents, and hiscompanion followed his example. The plates were brought, accompaniedby 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 companionappeared 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 suddenimpulse of generosity.
"Will you? You're a brick!" said the boot-black heartily. "Then Idon'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 thathis stock of money was not inexhaustible. This did not appear to beexpected, however, and the two parted on very good terms, when thedinner was over.
The Young Outlaw; or, Adrift in the Streets Page 13