His heart leaped for joy. Can't you take a passenger aboard? I'll help you to row. O yes, answered they, and bore up to receive him. With all his heart he would have run back to his good old hostess to bid her farewell, and to thank her for her kindness to him, but the boat could not wait; and carrying, tortoise-like, his all upon his back, in he stepped and went on with them to Philadelphia, where, after a whole night of hard rowing, they arrived about eight o'clock next morning, which happened to be Sunday. Soon as the boat struck the place of landing, which was Market-street wharf, Ben put his hand into his pocket, and asked, what was the damage. The boatmen shook their heads, and said, _oh no; he had nothing to pay. They could never take pay from a young fellow of his spirit, who had so cheerfully assisted them to row all the way._ As his own stock now consisted of but one Dutch dollar, and about a shilling's worth in coppers, he would have been well content to accept his passage on their own friendly terms; but seeing one of their crew who appeared to be old, and rather poorly dressed, he hauled out his coppers and gave them all to him. Having shaken hands with these honest-hearted fellows, he leaped ashore and walked up Market-street in search of something to appease his appetite, which was now abundantly keen from twenty miles' rowing and a cold night's air. He had gone but a short distance before he met a child bearing in his arms that most welcome of all sights to a hungry man, a fine loaf of bread. Ben eagerly asked him where he had got it. The child, turning around, lifted his little arm and pointing up the street, with great simplicity and sweetness said, _don't you see that little house--that little white house, way up yonder?_ Ben said, yes. _Well then_, continued the child, _that's the baker's house; there's where my mammy sends me every morning to get bread for all we children._ Ben blessed his sweet lips of innocence, and hastening to the house, boldly called for _three pence_ worth of bread. The baker threw him down three large rolls. What, all this for three pence! asked Ben with surprise. Yes, all that for three pence, replied the baker with a fine yankee snap of the eye, all that for _only_ three pence! Then measuring Ben from head to foot, he said with a sly quizzing sort of air, and pray now my little man where may you have come from? Here Ben felt his old panic, on the runaway servant score, returning strong upon him again. However, putting on a bold face, he promptly answered that he was from Boston.