settled, he made up the parcel of papers.

"There they are," he said. "If you're smart, you can sell 'em all before
night."

"I hope so," said Ben.

With the papers under his arm, Ben made his way westward to the
Cortlandt Street ferry, which was a favorite place of resort with him.

He did not have long to wait for his first customer. As he was walking
down Cortlandt Street, he met a gentleman, whose attention seemed
attracted by the papers he carried.

"What papers have you got there, my lad?" he inquired.

"'Harper's Weekly,' 'Frank Leslie,' 'Ledger,' 'Weekly,'" repeated Ben,
glibly, adding the names of the other papers in his parcel.

"Give me the two picture papers," said the gentleman. "Twenty cents, I
suppose."

"Yes," said Ben, "and as much more as you want to pay. I don't set no
limit to the generosity of my customers."

"You're sharp," said the gentleman, laughing. "That's worth something.
Here's twenty-five cents. You may keep the change."

"I'll do it cheerfully," said Ben. "Thank you, sir. I hope you'll buy
all your papers of me."

"I won't promise always to pay you more than the regular price, but you
may leave 'Harper's' and 'Leslie' at my office every week. Here is my
card."

Ben took the card, and put it in his pocket. He found the office to be
located in Trinity Building, Broadway.

"I'll call every week reg'lar," he said.

"That's right, my lad. Good-morning."

"Good-mornin'."

Ben felt that he had started well. He had cleared nine cents by his
sale, four representing his regular commission, while the other five
cents might be regarded as a donation. Nine cents was something. But for
his idea about the papers, he would have made nothing so far. It is a
very good thing to have two strings to your bow, so Ben thought, though
the thought did not take that precise form in his mind. He kept on his
way till he reached the ferry. There was no train in on the other side,
and would not be for some time, but passengers came over the ferry, and
Ben placed himself where he could be seen. It was some time before he
sold another paper however, although Ben, who improved some of his spare
time by looking over the pictures, was prepared to recommend them.

"What papers have you got, boy?" asked a tall, lank man, whose thin
lips and pinched expression gave him an outward appearance of meanness,
which, by the way, did not belie his real character.

Ben recited the list.

"What's the price of 'H