As Ben rode down town in the horse-cars, he thought of the six years which he had spent as a New York street boy; and he could not help feeling that the time had been wasted, so far as any progress or improvement was concerned. Of books he knew less than when he first came to the city. He knew more of life, indeed, but not the best side of life. He had formed some bad habits, from which he would probably have been saved if he had remained at home. Ben realized all at once how much he had lost by his hasty action in leaving home. He regarded his street life with different eyes, and felt ready to give it up, as soon as he could present himself to his parents without too great a sacrifice of his pride. At the end of half an hour, Ben found himself at the termination of the car route, opposite the lower end of the City Hall Park. As the letter which he had to deliver was to be carried to Wall Street, he kept on down Broadway till he reached Trinity Church, and then turned into the street opposite. He quickly found the number indicated, and entered Mr. Abercrombie's office. It was a handsome office on the lower floor. Two or three clerks were at work at their desks. "So this is my brother-in-law's office," thought Ben. "It's rather better than mine." "Well, young man, what can I do for you to-day?" inquired a clerk, in a tone which indicated that he thought Ben had got into the wrong shop. "You can tell me whether your name is Sampson," answered Ben, coolly. "No, it isn't." "That's what I thought." "Suppose I am not; what then?" "Then the letter I've got isn't for you, that's all." "So you've got a letter, have you?" "That's what I said." "It seems to me you're mighty independent," sneered the clerk, who felt aggrieved that Ben did not show him the respect which he conceived to be his due. "Thank you for the compliment," said Ben, bowing. "You can hand me the letter." "I thought your name wasn't Sampson." "I'll hand it to Mr. Sampson. He's gone out a moment. He'll be in directly." "Much obliged," said Ben; "but I'd rather hand it to Mr. Sampson myself. Business aint particularly pressin' this mornin', so, if you'll hand me the mornin' paper, I'll read till he comes." "Well, you've got cheek," ejaculated the clerk. "I've got two of 'em if I counted right when I got up," said Ben. Here there was a laugh from the other two clerks. "He's too smart for you, Granby," said one. "He's impudent enough," muttered the first, as he withdrew discomfited to his desk. The enemy having retreated, Ben sat down in an arm-chair, and, picking up a paper, began to read. He had not long to wait. Five minutes had scarcely passed when a man of middle age entered the office. His manner showed that he belonged there. "If you're Mr. Sampson," said Ben, approaching him, "here is a letter for you." "That is my name," said the gentleman, opening the note at once. "You come from Mrs. Abercrombie," he said, glancing at Ben, as he finished reading it.