CHAPTER XIV.

WADE BROOKS’S FRIEND.

Wade Brooks walked along the piers by the water, feeling like a young man with twenty dollars in his pocket. Presently he came to a steamer that was larger than any he had seen before; for he had never looked upon any thing larger than the tug-boat that sometimes came up the river. She was quite a curiosity to him, and he stopped to examine her. Then he saw a sign which indicated that the boat was bound to New York. This would exactly meet his views, for he was going to that great city. He would go in her if the fare was not so great as to ruin him.

On inquiry, he found that he could obtain a deck passage for a dollar; and this would be cheaper than to walk, for he would have to pay for his food on the way. But the boat did not start till late at night, and would reach her destination early in the morning. He had time, therefore, to explore the place, which he did very thoroughly. As he had never seen even a small city before, he was deeply interested in this one.

An noon he came across a restaurant where “meals at all hours” were served, and he went in. The bill of fare was rather perplexing; for, though he had twenty-one dollars in his pocket, he was not inclined to spend it any faster than it was necessary to do so. “Baked Beans, 10 cents,” seemed to fit his case best; and he made his dinner of this substantial diet. He wandered about all the rest of the day, and went on board of the steamer about dark. He was tired after the day’s work, and the mate told him he might make his bed upon some bales of wool. He went to sleep; and his slumbers were so sound that he did not even know when the boat started. He did not wake till the steamer was fast to the wharf in New York. The sun was shining brightly when he turned out, and he had no suspicion that the boat had stirred from the place where she was the night before.

“What time are we going to start?” asked Wade, when he saw the good-natured mate about his work.

“Start? where do you want to go now?” replied the mate, who saw how it was with the passenger.

“To New York. I thought you told me the boat would leave last night,” added Wade.

“Well, she won’t leave again till to-night,” said the man, with a laugh. “You must have slept very sound, my lad, for the boat did start last night: we have been in New York more than an hour.”

“Is that so?” exclaimed Wade, looking out at the forward part of the boat.

“That’s so, my boy; and you must look out sharper than that in New York, or the swindlers will skin you alive.”

“I guess I can take care of myself,” said Wade confidently. “I’m much obliged to you for looking out for me as you have, Mr. Mate.”

“Take care of yourself, my boy: there are a great many bad places in a big city like this.”

Wade Brooks went on shore. He was bewildered by the sights that met his gaze; and all he could do was to stare at the wonders that surrounded him. He walked till he thought it was about time for breakfast, and then he returned to a restaurant he had noticed near the steamboat-landing. The prices he saw posted at the door of the place suited him, and he went in. Fish-balls were only ten cents, with bread and butter: though he found the quantity was hardly up to his standard. He was not used to high living, and the quality was not so important to him. It was a good deal better than he had ever had at Obed Swikes’s.

Opposite to him at the table sat a very seedy-looking man. He wore black clothes, and had worn them about out. He looked at Wade several times: he even seemed to be taking his measure. Like Wade, he was eating fish-balls; but he did not seem to enjoy the meal as did the boy from the country.

“You are a stranger in the city,” said the man, after he had looked Wade over to his satisfaction.

“Yes, sir: I got here this morning in the steamboat from Bridgeport,” replied Wade, who did not think it at all strange that the gentleman should speak to him.

[Illustration: WADE AND THE “MISSIONARY.”--Page 113.]

“Do you live in Bridgeport?” continued the seedy individual, as though he intended to push his inquiries to some extent.

“No, sir: I never was there till yesterday; and I have always lived in the country, and worked on the farm,” replied Wade, perfectly willing to tell all about himself.

“I see: farmer’s boy; nice healthy occupation,” added the stranger. “Have you got tired of farming?”

“No, sir: but I got tired of the way I had to live. The folks where I worked were meaner than swill-pie; and, when I couldn’t stand it any longer, I came away.”

“What’s your name, my boy?” asked the man.

“Wade Brooks.”

“My name is Caleb Klucker; and I am one of the missionaries who go about this great city to look after the sick and the stranger,” replied the man very solemnly. “You may think my clothing is not very good for one engaged in such a responsible employment; but I cannot afford to spend any money on myself, when the sick and needy are so many. I wear these poor clothes, that more of the hungry may be fed.”

“Look after the sick and the stranger,” repeated Wade, who did not clearly understand Mr. Klucker’s business. “Do you find any?”

“Plenty of them. This very morning I found a poor woman who was sick in consumption; and I gave her all the money I had, except ten cents to pay for this miserable meal.”

“That was doing the handsome thing,” added Wade, who concluded he had come across one of the saints he had read about, but had never seen. “Do you find any strangers?”

“Hundreds who come to the great city with no friends to assist or advise them,” answered Mr. Klucker with enthusiasm; and Wade thought his whole soul was in his work. “I have found you, for one.”

“But I don’t want any help: I think I can take care of myself.”

“So all these simple-minded country boys think,” added the missionary, shaking his head. “The temptations of the great city will beset you behind and before.”

“Well, sir, I think I can take care of myself in the face of all of them.”

“Perhaps you can: you look like a bright, smart boy, who knows more about the world than most of those who come to the city.”

Wade thought Mr. Caleb Klucker was a knowing man, and knew what was what.

“What are you going to do in this city, Wade?” asked the missionary.

“I am going to find a place to go to work. If I can get something to do, I can take care of myself till the cows come home.”

“Will you let me look at your testimonials?” said Mr. Klucker, in an off-hand way.

“My what?”

“Your testimonials.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I haven’t got any thing of that sort about me, as I know of.”

“I mean your recommendations,--a paper from your minister, or some other good man, saying that you are a good boy,” Mr. Klucker explained.

“I haven’t got any. I left, as I told you, in something of a hurry. I came to Bridgeport in a sail-boat which was my father’s; and I hadn’t any time to go to the minister for the paper.”

“You will find it very hard to find a place to work without a recommendation,” added the missionary, shaking his head very sorrowfully, as though his heart was touched at the friendless condition of the youth. “But what did you do with the boat in which you came to Bridgeport?”

“I came across a man that wanted to buy her, and I thought she wasn’t of much use to me, so I sold her,” replied Wade frankly.

“I suppose you had to sell her for less than half her value,” said Klucker, who seemed to be much interested in the boat, as well as in her late owner.

“She was an old boat, and wasn’t worth much; but I got twenty dollars for her; and I thought that was doing pretty well with her.”

“Very well indeed, under the circumstances. I see that you are a wide-awake young man, and know what you are about,” said Mr. Klucker, with a patronizing smile. “But I am sorry you have no testimonials, for you will need them in order to get a place.”

“I can soon show anybody that wants to hire a hand what I can do,” replied Wade confidently.

“But people will not take strange boys into their houses and shops without testimonials: they are afraid such boys will steal. But I feel an interest in you, and it is part of my business to look up just such cases as yours,” added the benevolent Mr. Klucker.

“I am going to the rooms of our association; and, if you will go with me, I will see what can be done for you. I am afraid you will be robbed of your money, and then you will be a beggar about the streets till you find work.”

“I guess I can take care of my money,” replied Wade.

“Twenty dollars is a large sum of money for a boy to have; and there are a great many wicked people in this great city, who live by plundering the stranger within its gates. For aught you know, you may have lost your money now.”

It was a startling suggestion; and Wade thrust his hand deep down into his pocket, to see if the money was safe. He drew out an old wallet which had once belonged to his father, and showed it to his friend.

“It is all right, you see,” said Wade with a smile.

“I see the wallet is, but there may be no money in it,” added Mr. Klucker.

“Nobody could get the money out of the wallet while it was in my pocket,” added Wade.

“Such things are often done; and you had better see that the money is safe.”

Wade exhibited the bills with a look of triumph.

“It isn’t safe for a boy to carry so much money around with him,” continued the missionary. “There are plenty of sharpers who can get it away from you so adroitly that you will not know when it is taken. Don’t you think you had better let me take charge of it for you?”

“I think I can manage it for myself,” replied Wade, as he restored the wallet to his pocket.

“I think you had better put it in our savings bank: you can have a book, and draw it out as you want it.”

Wade knew about savings banks; and he liked the idea. Mr. Klucker conducted his young friend to such a bank, though it did not seem to be at “the rooms of our association.” A long string of depositors was at the window where the money was passed in; and they had to wait some time,--so long that Mr. Klucker’s patience was exhausted.