"I haven't got any money," said Ben, a little ashamed of the confession. "Well, I have, and that'll do just as well." He took Ben by the arm, and they passed through a vestibule, and entered the main apartment, which was of large size. On one side, about half way down, was a large instrument some like an organ, from which the music proceeded. The tables were very well filled, Germans largely predominating among the guests. "Sit down here," said Jerry. They took seats at one of the tables. Opposite was a stout German and his wife, the latter holding a baby. Both had glasses of lager before them, and the baby was also offered a share by its mother; but, from the contortions of its face, did not appear to relish it. "_Zwei Glass Lager_," said Jerry, to a passing attendant. "Can you speak German?" asked Ben, surprised. "Yaw," said Jerry; "my father was an Irishman, and my mother was a Dutchman." Jerry's German, however, seemed to be limited, as he made no further attempts to converse in that language. The glasses were brought. Jerry drank his down at a draught, but Ben, who had never before tasted lager, could not at once become reconciled to its bitter taste. "Don't you like it?" asked Jerry. "Not very much," said Ben. "Then I'll finish it for you;" and he suited the action to the word. Besides the lager a few plain cakes were sold, but nothing more substantial. Evidently the beer was the great attraction. Ben could not help observing, with some surprise, that, though everybody was drinking, there was not the slightest disturbance, or want of decorum, or drunkenness. The music, which was furnished at intervals, was of very good quality, and was listened to with attention. "I was goin' to Tony Pastor's to-night," said Jerry, "if I hadn't met you." "What sort of a place is that?" asked Ben. "Oh, it's a bully place--lots of fun. You must go there some time." "I think I will," answered Ben, mentally adding, "if I ever have money enough." Here the music struck up, and they stopped to listen to it. When this was over, Jerry proposed to go out. Ben would have been willing to stay longer; but he saw that his companion did not care so much for the music as himself, and he did not wish to lose sight of him. To be alone in a great city, particularly under Ben's circumstances, is not very pleasant, and our young adventurer determined to stick to his new acquaintance, who, though rough in his manners, had yet seemed inclined to be friendly, and Ben felt sadly in need of a friend. CHAPTER VI. THE BURNING BALES. "Where are you going to sleep to-night?" asked Ben, introducing a subject which had given him some anxiety. "I don't know," said Jerry, carelessly. "I'll find a place somewhere." "I'll go with you, if you'll let me," said Ben. "In course I will." "I haven't got any money." "What's the odds? They don't charge nothin' at the hotel where I stop." "What time do you go to bed?" "Most any time. Do you feel sleepy?"