Ben, the Luggage Boy; Or, Among the Wharves Part 27

"I don't know. I used to think so; but I have about given up hopes of it. It is six years now since he ran away."

"Maybe he's turned bad," said Ben. "S'posin' he was a ragged baggage-smasher like me, you wouldn't care about seein' him, would you?"

"Yes, I would," said Charles, warmly. "I'd be glad to see Ben again, no matter how he looked, or how poor he might be."

Ben looked at his cousin with a glance of wistful affection. Street boy as he was, old memories had been awakened, and his heart had been touched by the sight of the cousin whom he had most loved when a young boy.

"And I might be like him," thought Ben, looking askance at the rags in which he was dressed, "instead of a walkin' rag-bag. I wish I was;" and he suppressed a sigh.

It has been said that street boys are not accessible to the softer emotions; but Ben did long to throw his arm round his cousin's neck in the old, affectionate way of six years since. It touched him to think that Charlie held him in affectionate remembrance. But his thoughts were diverted by noticing that they had reached the Astor House.

"I guess we'd better cross the street, and take the Fourth Avenue cars,"

he said. "There's one over there."

"All right!" said Charles. "I suppose you know best."

There was a car just starting; they succeeded in getting aboard, and were speedily on their up town.

CHAPTER XVII.

BEN FORMS A RESOLUTION.

"Does this car go up Madison Avenue?" asked Charles, after they had taken their seats.

"No," said Ben, "it goes up Fourth Avenue; but that's only one block away from Madison. We'll get out at Thirtieth Street."

"I'm glad you're with me; I might have a hard time finding the place if I were alone."

"Are you going to stay in the city long?" asked Ben.

"Yes, I am going to school here. Father is going to move here soon.

Until he comes I shall stay with my Cousin Mary."

Ben felt quite sure that this must be his older sister, but did not like to ask.

"Is she married?"

"Yes, it is the sister of my Cousin Ben. About two years ago she married a New York gentleman. He is a broker, and has an office in Wall Street.

I suppose he's rich."

"What's his name?" asked Ben. "Maybe I've seen his office."

"It is Abercrombie,--James Abercrombie. Did you ever hear that name?"

"No," answered Ben, "I can't say as I have. He aint the broker that does my business."

"Have you much business for a broker?" asked Charles, laughing.

"I do a smas.h.i.+n' business in Erie and New York Central," answered Ben.

"You are in the same business as the railroads," said Charles.

"How is that?"

"You are both baggage-smashers."

"That's so; only I don't charge so much for smas.h.i.+n' baggage as they do."

They were on Centre Street now, and a stone building with ma.s.sive stone columns came in view on the west side of the street.

"What building is that?" asked Charles.

"That's a hotel, where they lodge people free gratis."

Charles looked at his companion for information.

"It's the Tombs," said Ben. "It aint so popular, though, as the hotels where they charge higher."

"No, I suppose not. It looks gloomy enough."

"It aint very cheerful," said Ben. "I never put up there, but that's what people say that have enjoyed that privilege."

"Where is the Bowery?"

"We'll soon be in it. We turn off Centre Street a little farther up."

Charles was interested in all that he saw. The broad avenue which is known as the Bowery, with its long line of shops on either side, and the liberal display of goods on the sidewalk, attracted his attention, and he had numerous questions to ask, most of which Ben was able to answer.

He had not knocked about the streets of New York six years for nothing.

His business had carried him to all parts of the city, and he had acquired a large amount of local information, a part of which he retailed now to his cousin as they rode side by side in the horse-cars.

At length they reached Thirtieth Street, and here they got out. At the distance of one block they found Madison Avenue. Examining the numbers, they readily found the house of which they were in search. It was a handsome four-story house, with a brown-stone front.

"This must be Mr. Abercrombie's house," said Charles. "I didn't think Cousin Mary lived in such a nice place."

Ben surveyed the house with mingled emotions. He could not help contrasting his own forlorn, neglected condition with the position of his sister. She lived in an elegant home, enjoying, no doubt, all the advantages which money could procure; while he, her only brother, walked about the streets in rags, sleeping in any out-of-the-way corner. But he could blame no one for it. It had been his own choice, and until this morning he had been well enough contented with it. But all at once a glimpse had been given him of what might have been his lot had he been less influenced by pride and waywardness, and by the light of this new prospect he saw how little hope there was of achieving any decent position in society if he remained in his present occupation. But what could he do? Should he declare himself at once to his cousin, and his sister? Pride would not permit him to do it. He was not willing to let them see him in his ragged and dirty state. He determined to work and save up money, until he could purchase a suit as handsome as that which his cousin wore. Then he would not be ashamed to present himself, so far as his outward appearance went. He knew very well that he was ignorant; but he must trust to the future to remedy that deficiency. It would be a work of time, as he well knew. Meanwhile he had his cousin's a.s.surance that he would be glad to meet him again, and renew the old, affectionate intimacy which formerly existed between them.

While these thoughts were pa.s.sing through Ben's mind, as I have said, they reached the house.

"Have you had any breakfast?" asked Charles as they ascended the steps.

"Not yet," answered Ben. "It isn't fas.h.i.+onable to take breakfast early."

"Then you must come in. My cousin will give you some breakfast."

Ben hesitated; but finally decided to accept the invitation. He had two reasons for this. Partly because it would give him an opportunity to see his sister; and, secondly, because it would save him the expense of buying his breakfast elsewhere, and that was a consideration, now that he had a special object for saving money.