knew that Ben was anxious to obtain a situation. It occurred to
him that it would be a splendid joke to write to Ben, in the name of
some Boston firm, offering him a situation. Ben would go up to the
city, of course, only to find that he had been "sold."

Of course, it would not do for Sam to write the letter himself, since
his writing was well known to Ben. Again, the letter must be posted
in Boston. However, where there is a will there is a way. Sam was
acquainted with a boy who lived in Boston--Frank Ferguson--and to
him he wrote, enclosing the draft of a letter, which he requested
Frank to copy and mail to Ben. "It is only a practical joke," Sam
explained in his letter, "in return for one Ben has played on me." But
for this explanation, Frank who was an honorable boy, would not have
lent himself to this scheme. As it was, it struck him only as a piece of
fun, and he followed Sam's instructions.

A few days later, Ben, in going to the post-office, received a letter
directed to himself. It read thus:

"BENJAMIN BRADFORD: We are in want of a boy in our store.
You can have the place if you wish. It will be necessary for you to
report for duty next Monday.

"Yours, in haste,
"JONES & PORTER"

Ben had heard of Jones & Porter. They were well-known
booksellers and publishers. A position with them was certainly
desirable.

"But how could they have heard of me," thought Ben.

He was not vain enough to suppose that his name was well known in
Boston, yet here was an important firm that had offered him
employment. Again, the manner in which the letter ended struck him
as rather singular. It didn't occur to Ben to doubt its genuineness.

As he was walking back, he met James Watson.

"What's the news, Ben?" asked James.

"I am offered a place in Boston," answered Ben.

"You don't say so! What sort of place is it?"

"It is a place in a bookstore. There is the letter."

James read it.

"How did they happen to write to you."

"I don't know, I am sure."

"Can't you think of any way in which they could have heard of you?"

"There is only one way I can think of. There was a gentleman in
Charleston who was quite kind to me when I was there last year.
He promised to be of service to me if I ever needed it. He may
have mentioned my name to Jones & Porter.

"Very likely," said James. "You are in luck."

"I wish I knew what wages they a