Then, again, they become accustomed to the street and its
varied scenes, and the daily excitement of life in a large city becomes
such a matter of necessity to them, that they find the country lonesome.
Yet, under the auspices of the Children's Aid Society, companies of boys
are continually being sent out to the great West with the happiest
results. After a while the first loneliness wears away, and they become
interested in the new scenes and labors to which they are introduced,
and a large number have already grown up to hold respectable, and, in
some cases, prominent places, in the communities which they have
joined. Others have pined for the city, until they could no longer
resist their yearning for it, and have found their way back to the old,
familiar scenes, to resume the former life of suffering and privation.
Such is the strange fascination which their lawless and irresponsible
mode of life oftentimes exerts upon the minds of these young Arabs of
the street.

When Ben parted from the passenger by the Albany boat, he did not
immediately seek another job. Accustomed as he was to live from "hand to
mouth," he had never troubled himself much about accumulating more than
would answer his immediate needs. Some boys in the Lodging House made
deposits in the bank of that institution; but frugality was not one of
Ben's virtues. As long as he came out even at the end of the day, he
felt very well satisfied. Generally he went penniless to bed; his
business not being one that required him to reserve money for capital to
carry it on. In the case of a newsboy it was different. He must keep
enough on hand to buy a supply of papers in the morning, even if he were
compelled to go to bed supperless.

With fifty cents in his pocket, Ben felt rich. It would buy him a good
supper, besides paying for his lodging at the Newsboys' Home, and a
ticket for the Old Bowery besides,--that is, a fifteen-cent ticket,
which, according to the arrangement of that day, would admit him to one
of the best-located seats in the house, that is, in the pit,
corresponding to what is known as the parquette in other theatres. This
arrangement has now been changed, so that the street boys find
themselves banished to the upper gallery of their favorite theatre. But
in the days of which I am speaking they made themselves conspicuous in
the front rows, and were by no means bashful in indicating their
approbation or disapprobation of the different actors who