glar also brought him in as much as under ordinary
circumstances he would have earned in a week. In two days he was able to
lay aside fifteen dollars and a half towards his fund.

But of course such lucky adventures could not be expected every day. The
bulk of his money must be earned slowly, as the reward of persistent
labor and industry. But Ben was willing to work now that he had an
object before him. He kept up his double business of baggage-smasher and
vender of weekly papers. After a while the latter began to pay him
enough to prove quite a help, besides filling up his idle moments.
Another good result of his new business was, that, while waiting for
customers, he got into the habit of reading the papers he had for sale.
Now Ben had done very little reading since he came to New York, and, if
called upon to read aloud, would have shown the effects of want of
practice, in his frequent blunders. But the daily lessons in reading
which he now took began to remedy this deficiency, and give him
increased fluency and facility. It also had the effect of making him
wish that his education had not been interrupted, so that his Cousin
Charles might not be so far ahead of him.

Ben also gave up smoking,--not so much because he considered it
injurious, but because cigars cost money, and he was economizing in
every possible way. He continued to sleep in the room under the wharf,
which thus far the occupants had managed to keep from the knowledge of
the police. Gradually the number had increased, until from twenty to
thirty boys made it a rendezvous nightly. By some means a stove had been
procured, and what was more difficult, got safely down without
observation, so that, as the nights grew cooler, the boys managed to
make themselves comfortable. Here they talked and told stories, and had
a good time before going to sleep. One evening it was proposed by one of
the boys that each should tell his own story; for though they met
together daily they knew little of each other beyond this, that they
were all engaged in some street avocation. Some of the stories told were
real, some burlesque.

First Jim Bagley told his story.

"I aint got much to tell, boys," he said. "My father kept a cigar store
on Eighth Avenue, and my mother and sister and I lived behind the shop.
We got along pretty well, till father got run over by a street-car, and
pretty soon after he died. We kept the store along a little while, but
we couldn't make it go a