us, and he sat down and gave his order. A plate of roast beef
and a cup of coffee were brought, according to his directions. Seated
opposite him at the table was a man who had nearly completed his dinner
as Ben commenced. He held in his hand a Philadelphia paper, which he
left behind when he rose to go.

"You have left your paper," said Ben.

"I have read it through," was the reply. "I don't care to take it."

Ben took it up, and found it to be a daily paper which his father had
been accustomed to take for years. It gave him a start, as he saw the
familiar page, and he felt a qualm of homesickness. The neat house in
which he had lived since he was born, his mother's gentle face, rose up
before him, compared with his present friendless condition, and the
tears rose to his eyes. But he was in a public restaurant, and his pride
came to the rescue. He pressed back the tears, and resumed his knife and
fork.

When he had finished his dinner, he took up the paper once more, reading
here and there. At last his eye rested on the following advertisement:--

"My son, Benjamin Brandon, having run away from home without any good
reason, I hereby caution the public against trusting him on my
account; but will pay the sum of one dollar and necessary expenses to
any person who will return him to me. He is ten years old, well grown
for his age, has dark eyes and a dark complexion. He was dressed in a
gray-mixed suit, and had on a blue cap when he left home.

"JAMES BRANDON."

Ben's face flushed when he read this advertisement. It was written by
his father, he knew well enough, and he judged from the language that it
was written in anger. _One dollar_ was offered for his restoration.

Ben felt somehow humiliated at the smallness of the sum, and at the
thought that this advertisement would be read by his friends and
school-companions. The softer thoughts, which but just now came to him,
were banished, and he determined, whatever hardships awaited him, to
remain in New York, and support himself as he had begun to do. But,
embittered as he felt against his father, he felt a pang when he thought
of his mother. He knew how anxious she would feel about him, and he
wished he might be able to write her privately that he was well, and
doing well. But he was afraid the letter would get into his father's
hands, and reveal his whereabouts; then the police might be set on his
track, and he might be forced home to endure the humi