e the
cholera. I've heard that there's some cases round."

This suggestion alarmed Ben, who laid his head down between his knees,
and began to feel worse than ever.

"Don't be scared," said Jerry, thinking it time to relieve Ben's mind.
"It's only the cigar. You'll feel all right in a jiffy."

While Ben was experiencing the disagreeable effects of his first cigar,
he resolved never to smoke another. But, as might have been expected, he
felt differently on recovering. It was not long before he could puff
away with as much enjoyment and unconcern as any of his street
companions, and a part of his earnings were consumed in this way. It may
be remarked here that the street boy does not always indulge in the
luxury of a whole cigar. Sometimes he picks up a fragment which has been
discarded by the original smoker. There are some small dealers, who make
it a business to collect these "stubs," or employ others to do so, and
then sell them to the street boys, at a penny apiece, or less, according
to size. Sometimes these stubs are bought in preference to a cheap
cigar, because they are apt to be of a superior quality. Ben, however,
never smoked "stubs." In course of time he became very much like other
street boys; but in some respects his taste was more fastidious, and he
preferred to indulge himself in a cheap cigar, which was not
second-hand.

We must now pass rapidly over the six years which elapsed from the date
of Ben's first being set adrift in the streets to the period at which
our story properly begins. These years have been fruitful of change to
our young adventurer. They have changed him from a country boy of ten,
to a self-reliant and independent street boy of sixteen. The impressions
left by his early and careful home-training have been mostly effaced.
Nothing in his garb now distinguishes him from the class of which he is
a type. He has long since ceased to care for neat or whole attire, or
carefully brushed hair. His straggling locks, usually long, protrude
from an aperture in his hat. His shoes would make a very poor
advertisement for the shoemaker by whom they were originally
manufactured. His face is not always free from stains, and his street
companions have long since ceased to charge him with putting on airs, on
account of the superior neatness of his personal appearance. Indeed, he
has become rather a favorite among them, in consequence of his
frankness, and his willingness at all times to lend a helping