on't suppose you board there," said Ben, laughing; "but I
suppose there are cheaper boarding-places. Where do you sleep?"

"Sometimes in wagons, or in door-ways, on the docks, or anywhere where I
get a chance."

"Don't you get cold sleeping out-doors?" asked Ben.

"Oh, I'm used to it," said Jerry. "When it's cold I go to the Lodging
House."

"What's that?"

Jerry explained that there was a Newsboys' Lodging House, where a bed
could be obtained for six cents a night.

"That's cheap," said Ben.

"'Taint so cheap as sleepin' out-doors," returned the boot-black.

This was true; but Ben thought he would rather pay the six cents than
sleep out, if it were only for the damage likely to come to his clothes,
which were yet clean and neat. Looking at Jerry's suit, however, he saw
that this consideration would be likely to have less weight with him. He
began to understand that he had entered upon a very different life from
the one he had hitherto led. He was not easily daunted, however.

"If he can stand it, I can," he said to himself.

CHAPTER III.

STREET SCENES.

"Here's Broadway," said Jerry, suddenly.

They emerged from the side street on which they had been walking, and,
turning the corner, found themselves in the great thoroughfare, a block
or two above Trinity Church.

Ben surveyed the busy scenes that opened before him, with the eager
interest of a country boy who saw them for the first time.

"What church is that?" he asked, pointing to the tall spire of the
imposing church that faces Wall Street.

"That's Trinity Church."

"Do you go to church there?"

"I don't go anywhere else," said Jerry, equivocally. "What's the use of
going to church?"

"I thought everybody went to church," said Ben, speaking from his
experience in a country village "that is, most everybody," he corrected
himself, as several persons occurred to his mind who were more punctual
in their attendance at the liquor saloon than the church.

"If I'd got good clothes like you have I'd go once just to see what it's
like; but I'd a good sight rather go to the old Bowery Theatre."

"But you ought not to say that," said Ben, a little startled.

"Why not?"

"Because it's better to go to church than to the theatre."

"Is it?" said Jerry. "Well, you can go if you want to. I'd give more for
a stunnin' old play at the Bowery than fifty churches."

Ben began to suspect that Jerry was rather loose in his ideas on the
subject of