"You couldn't get along nohow." "I'd like to know why not?" said Sam, rather nettled at this depreciation. "Oh, you're a country greenhorn. You'd get taken in right and left." "I don't believe I would," said Sam. "I aint as green as you think." "You'd better stay with the deacon, and hoe potatoes," said Ben, disparagingly. "It takes a smart fellow to succeed in New York." "Is that the reason you had to come home?" retorted Sam. "I'm going back pretty soon," said Ben. "I shan't stay long in such a one-horse place as this." "Is it far to New York?" asked Sam, thoughtfully. "Over a hundred miles." "Does it cost much to go there?" "Three dollars by the cars." "That isn't so very much." "No, but you've got to pay your expenses when you get there." "I could work." "What could you do? You might, perhaps, black boots in the City Hall Park." "What pay do boys get for doing that?" asked Sam, seriously. "Sometimes five cents, sometimes ten." "I'd like it better than farmin'!" "It might do for you," said Ben, turning up his nose. "What were you doing when you were in New York, Ben?" "I was chief salesman in a dry goods store," said Ben, with an air of importance. "Was it a good place?" "Of course it was, or I wouldn't have stayed there." "What made you leave it?" "I had so much care and responsibility that the doctor told me I must have rest. When the boss was away, I run the store all alone." There was no one to contradict Ben's confident assertions, and though some doubt was entertained by his listener none was expressed. Considering Ben's large claims, it was surprising that his services were not sought by leading New York firms, but, then, merit is not always appreciated at once. That was Ben's way of accounting for it. Sam was never tired of asking Ben fresh questions about New York. His imagination had been inflamed by the glowing descriptions of the latter, and he was anxious to pass through a similar experience. In fact, he was slowly making up his mind to leave the deacon, and set out for the brilliant Paradise which so dazzled his youthful fancy. There was one drawback, however, and that a serious one,--the lack of funds. Though the deacon supplied him with board, and would doubtless keep him in wearing apparel, there was no hint or intimation of any further compensation for his services, and Sam's whole available money capital at this moment amounted to only three cents. Now three cents would purchase three sticks of candy, and Sam intended to appropriate them in this way, but they formed a slender fund for travelling expenses; and the worst of it was that Sam knew of no possible way of increasing them. If his journey depended upon that, it would be indefinitely postponed. But circumstances favored his bold design, as we shall see. One evening as Sam was returning from the store, a man from a neighboring town, who was driving by, reined up his horse, and said, "You live with Deacon Hopkins, don't you?" "Yes, sir."