CHAPTER XI HERBERT IS AWED AND AMAZED BY HIS FIRST SIGHT OF A GREAT CITY

The train made good time, and in two hours arrived in Jersey City. From the shed to the two story ferry-boat which plied between the two shores was but a step. When the boat pulled out into the stream, Herbert was dazzled by the sight that met his eyes. Through force of circumstances over which he had no control, he had never visited New York, and so it came about that this was to be his first view of the wonderful city of the Western Continent. His gaze rested first on the magnificent Statue of Liberty enlightening the world--that colossal bit of statuary placed in New York harbor not only to typify the grandeur of American institutions, but also to emphasize the long friendship existing between America and France. Beyond this he beheld that great piece of engineering known as the Brooklyn Bridge, the girdle, the connecting link which is the visible bond uniting the two great cities of Greater New York.

In the harbor boats were coming and going in every direction, carrying people and merchandise from the four corners of the earth. A monster ocean steamer plowing its way majestically through the waves, its deck literally black with people eager for the first glimpse of land, was making towards the new Castle Garden, there to empty upon the shores of America more men and women than there were in the entire population of Cleverly. Another magnificent ocean greyhound just going down the bay was filled with rich Americans, millionaires and men made suddenly rich who were embarking for foreign shores to spend the money they had dug from the bowels of the earth, or cleverly obtained by ingenuity or trade from their fellow countrymen.

Herbert felt as he gazed out on this constantly moving panorama, as if the whole world had suddenly burst on his view. From the time he left the Jersey City shore until he reached the New York side, his mind was in a whirl trying to grasp and comprehend all the strange sights that were constantly coming within his view. No time was lost in landing, and in a minute or two the country-reared boy found himself in the midst of what seemed to be a hopeless confusion of trucks and drays and cursing drivers. A policeman with uplifted club soon straightened out this tangle, and Herbert proceeded on his way up Cortlandt Street. The rush and roar of the elevated trains, the shouts and protests of the wagon drivers, the yells of the cabmen and peddlers, and the never ceasing hum of talk from the hurrying pedestrians, made Herbert feel as if this were all some wonderful dream.

He spoke to a policeman, asking him the way to Broadway.

“Follow your nose, Johnny, for two blocks,” was the flippant rejoinder.

Herbert flushed up a little at this. He was not accustomed to being addressed in such a manner. In fact before he left Cleverly he was looked upon as one of the important persons of the town; but in New York, like many other persons of greater importance, Herbert was soon stripped of his dignity and self-esteem. He continued on his way up the hilly street until he finally found himself on a corner of that throbbing, pulsating, crowded and ever changing thoroughfare which is known by reputation all over the civilized world as Broadway. He walked along its diagonal length for some distance looking in the shop windows, gazing at the crowds, and greedily drinking in the sights that presented themselves on all sides. The noise and the hum and the din were continuous. It began to give him a headache. He wondered how the people were able to stand such a tumultuous existence. Still more, he wondered how soon he would become accustomed to this new condition of things, little thinking that most of that confused multitude had come to New York like himself, a stranger in a strange city, and many of them strangers in a strange land.

After he had partially satisfied his curiosity he determined to look for lodgings. He had the address of Mr. Anderson on a little card. He knew from a letter he had received that it was somewhere on upper Sixth Avenue, and after making one or two mistakes in the direction he took, he finally succeeded in boarding a Sixth Avenue elevated train and was whizzed along towards the up-town section of New York City. It was quite a sensation to ride so far up in the air and to be able to look into the open bedroom windows of the people who lived on either side of the elevated road. He thought he must have surely struck New York on wash-day, because every window and every areaway appeared to be filled with shirts and other articles of wearing apparel. Finally he reached the street that was nearest his destination, and getting out of the train, walked down the high steps towards that section of Sixth Avenue which had been described to him by his former teacher.

On the way, for the first time it dawned upon him that his appearance must be a little bit odd to the pedestrians who passed him on the street. He was twenty-one years old, tall, slender, pale and plain, with twenty-five dollars in his pocket--he had persisted in giving his mother the remainder of his money, claiming that with a position assured he had no need of a large surplus. Nearly all of the clothing he possessed was on his back, and in addition to that his total capital was a knowledge of so much of the art of printing and so much of the art of reporting and editing as a youth is enabled to learn in the office of an enterprising country newspaper. But the most acute feeling that came over him at this time was a sense of terrible loneliness. With the possible exception of Mr. Anderson, he knew no human being within two hundred miles, and his rustic manner and address, he felt satisfied, did not favor the immediate making of new friendships. His personal estate, which was neatly tied up in a little packet, did not encumber him, and he stepped along lightly in his search for Mr. Anderson’s boarding house. The landlady proved to be a very pleasant woman, and when he inquired for his friend, told him that he had been unexpectedly called out of the city and would be gone for a week. When he inquired about accommodations she showed him a nice, pleasant room which he could have with board for the sum of $8 a week. Herbert immediately rejected this proffer as being a little more expensive than he was able to undertake.

Somewhat disappointed, he boarded the elevated train once more and was soon whirled down-town. He wandered about aimlessly for some time, wondering where he should look for a boarding house. Passing one of the newspaper offices, he purchased an evening edition and looked in the columns marked “Boarding” and “Rooms to Rent.” There were hundreds of advertisements, but they gave no clue to the character of the houses, and very few of them announced their terms. He threw the paper away as useless and continued walking towards the North River. Finally he came to a rather respectable looking house with a brick front, containing the sign “Boarding.” He entered, introduced himself to the landlady, and was offered shelter and subsistence at $5 a week. The room that was offered for his inspection was comfortable, and the price seemed reasonable, so he closed the bargain at once.

After depositing his little package in his room and washing himself and ridding his clothing of the stains of travel, he left the house to make some purchases of little articles that were necessary for his attire. Once again he walked about in a rather aimless manner, and in the course of his travels finally reached the thoroughfare known as the Bowery. It proved to be quite a different place from the street that he had pictured in his mind. There were some few dance halls and concert rooms, it is true, but in addition to that he was surprised to see the unusually large number of bright looking retail stores and business houses. He was gazing in the window of one of these stores when someone tapped him on the arm and said in a whining voice:

“Say, boss, can’t you help a poor fellow out?”

He turned quickly, and to his great astonishment, beheld Harry Adler standing before him. He had not seen the man since he left Cleverly in company with Arthur Black. The appearance of Adler indicated that he had been a victim either of great misfortune, or of the persistent laziness which seemed to be part of his character. He was very thinly clad; in fact his coat seemed to be a mass of rags, and there were holes in the rough shoes that he wore on his feet. A hat with a torn brim covered his bushy hair, and he was entirely innocent of collar or necktie. A heavy beard suggested continuous neglect of the barber.

“Harry Adler!” exclaimed Herbert. “You are the last man in the world I expected to meet.”

“Yes, I guess that’s so,” said Adler, beginning to sniffle; “but you see, Herbert, I’ve been playing in very hard luck. I came to the city to get work, and after I had been at it for about a week I was taken sick and sent to the hospital. When I came out of that institution I was so weak that I was not able to hunt for employment, and I finally got in such a condition that I had to beg for a bit to eat.”

Herbert looked at the fellow in a skeptical manner. Then he gave a significant sniff of his nose.

“I guess you’ve been drinking,” he cried. “Probably that has prevented you from being a successful business man in New York.”

Adler pretended not to notice this bit of irony and continued:

“Herbert, you’ve got a chance to make a man out of me. I know we haven’t been very good friends; but if you will help to straighten me out you will never have cause to regret it.”

“Where is Arthur Black?” asked Herbert, disregarding the other’s appeal.

“He’s up at my boarding house,” replied Adler, with a whimper.

“Well, I would like to see him very much,” responded Herbert. “Will you promise to make an arrangement so that I can meet him somewhere to-night?”

“Yes, indeed I will,” replied the other, “if you will help me out a little bit I will do anything for you.”

“Well I don’t want you to do anything, except to have Arthur Black meet me.”

“All right; I’ll do that.”

“Where is your boarding house?” asked Herbert.

Adler looked a little bit scared at this question, and then said in a husky tone:

“Oh, it wouldn’t do for you to come to our boarding house. It’s too humble for the likes of you; but I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll arrange to have Arthur Black meet you in the corridor of the main post office building at eight o’clock to-night. I’ll do that sure if you help me out.”

The constant appeal for personal help finally impressed itself upon Herbert, and he said:

“What do you want?”

“Well,” said the other in a quavering voice, “I guess a coat and a shave and a pair of shoes wouldn’t be bad to start with.”

“All right, I’ll try to fit you out with them,” said Herbert, “if you don’t let it cost too much.”

So the queerly assorted pair entered a clothing house on the Bowery, where Adler succeeded in obtaining a coat and a pair of shoes for ten dollars. Following that he was taken into a barber shop and treated to a clean shave and haircut. The improvement in his appearance was remarkable.

“How do you feel now?” asked Herbert, looking at him approvingly.

“Pretty good, but mighty hungry.”

“Well, come with me, and I’ll get you something to eat.”

The two men repaired to a near-by restaurant and Adler was treated to what was probably the best meal he had enjoyed in many a long day.

Herbert settled the score, and once more telling him to be sure to have Arthur Black at the post office at eight o’clock, parted with him and went around to his own lodgings. He looked over his money and found that after paying his board and spending money for food and clothing on Adler and giving the lazy one a two dollar bill, he had only four dollars left to his credit. He was somewhat annoyed at this; but consoled himself with the thought that he would begin employment the next day and would soon have sufficient ready money to satisfy all of his needs. At times he felt angry with himself for having helped Adler, who after all that was said and done, was a very worthless sort of fellow. But on reflection he felt that he might have done the man some good, and that thought was sufficient to give him a feeling of pleasant self-satisfaction.

He left the house immediately after dinner, and after a short walk on Broadway, found himself in the corridor of the main post office at a quarter before eight. He stationed himself in such a position as to command a view of all of those who entered or left the building. It was irksome business waiting for anyone in that place. The hands of the clock gradually moved around and it finally struck eight, but there was no sign of Arthur Black. Herbert waited on, feeling that the expected visitor would be likely to come in at any minute; but time continued to pass, and finally the clock struck nine. Herbert turned and left the building, filled with great disgust:

“Buncoed!” he muttered to himself. “Buncoed, by gosh! My first day in New York and I permit myself to be buncoed by a man who was even without standing in Cleverly! That’s a pretty good lesson for my first day in the metropolis.”