The sight of this money reassured the dealer. Ben's ragged clothes had led him to doubt his financial soundness; but the discovery that he was a capitalist to the extent of a dollar gave him considerable more respect for him. A dollar may not be a very large sum; I hope that to you, my young reader, it is a very small one, and that you have never been embarrassed for the want of it; but it is enough to lift a ragged street boy from the position of a penniless vagabond to that of a thrifty capitalist. After seeing it, the dealer would almost have felt safe in trusting Ben with the papers without demanding a deposit of their value. Still it was better and safer to require a deposit, and he therefore took the dollar from Ben, returning twenty-five cents in change. This preliminary matter 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.