until Tuesday. It was Saturday, and his money would not hold out if he should get boarded at a hotel till then. What should he do? He was in great trouble about it for a short time, but finally concluded that he would return to the old lady of whom he bought the gingerbread, as he liked her appearance very well, and ask her advice. So back he went. "Ah! back again?" she said, as he entered her shop. "Want more gingerbread?"

"No. I was going to take a boat to Philadelphia, but it has gone, and there is not another to go until Tuesday."

66 "Lor', me!" exclaimed the kind-hearted woman; "if that ain't too bad! What kin ye du?"

"That is what I want to ask you. Is there any other conveyance to Philadelphia ?"

"Lor', no; and all ye has to du is to make the best on't." "And what is that? That is just what I want to know. How can I make the best on't?"

"What ye goin' to Philadelphy for?" she replied, instead of answering his question.

"I am going after work. I am a printer, and want to find work in a printing office."

"A printer, lor'! Dear me, yer fortin is made to set up business in this 'ere town. There's nothin' of the like here."

"I have nothing to set up the business with," said Benjamin. "I would as lief work here as in Philadelphia, if the way was open."

The, woman did not know what was necessary in establishing a printing house. That types and a press were indispensable articles in such business she did not dream. She thought, doubtless, that he carried all necessary fixtures with him in his pockets.

"Lor', then, I'll lodge ye till Tuesday for," naming the sum.

"I will stay with you, then, and make the best of it," he replied.

He found himself in very good quarters, and his hostess proved herself to be very kind and hospitable. He took dinner with her, and remained about the shop until towards night, when he walked forth to view the place. In his walk he came around to the river, and, as he approached it, he discovered a boat with several people in it, and he hailed them :

:

"Whither bound?”

"To Philadelphia."

"Can you take me in? I was too late for the boat to-day." "Just as well as not," and the boat was turned at once to receive the additional passenger.

There was no wind, so that they had to depend upon their oars for progress. Benjamin now had an opportunity to show his skill in rowing which he acquired in his boyhood in Boston. He was so elated with proceeding on his journey to Philadelphia that he thought neither of the fatigue of rowing nor of the wonder of the old lady in the shop at the unexpected disappearance of her boarder. did not mean to treat her disrespectfully, for he considered her a very clever woman; but the boat could not wait for him to return and pay the old lady his compliments. Whether she ever learned what became of him, or that he grew up to be Doctor Franklin, the philosopher and statesman, we have no means of knowing. Doubtless she concluded that she had not "entertained an angel unawares," but rather had aided an undeserving fellow in pursuing a vicious course, which was not true.

The boat moved on. Benjamin rowed with strong resolution, taking his turn with others, and impressing them by his tact and skill, until midnight, when one of the company said :

:

"We must have passed the city. It can't be that we have been so long getting to it."

66

"That is impossible," answered one of the men ; we must have seen it if we had passed it."

"Well, I shall row no more," said the first speaker. "I know that Philadelphia is not so far off as this."

"Then, let us put for the shore," said a third, "and find out where we are, if possible."

All agreed to the last proposition, and at once rowed. towards the shore, entering a small creek, where they landed near an old fence, the rails of which furnished them fuel for a fire. They were very chilly, it being a frosty night of October, and they found the fire very grateful. They remained there till daylight, when one of the company knew that the place was "Cooper's Creek," a few miles above Philadelphia. Immediately they made preparations to continue their journey, which had not been altogether unpleasant, and they were soon in full view of the city, where they arrived between eight and nine o'clock on Sunday morning. They landed at Market Street Wharf. Taking out his money, which consisted of one unbroken dollar and a shilling in copper coin, he offered the latter to the boatman for his passage.

"Not a cent, my good fellow! You worked your passage, and did it well, too. You row as if you were an old hand at it. Put your money back in your pocket."

"You are

"But you must take it," insisted Benjamin. quite welcome to all the rowing I have done. I am glad enough to get here by rowing and paying my passage, too. But for your coming along to take me in I should have been obliged to stay in Burlington until next Tuesday," and he fairly forced the money upon the boatman.

Bidding them good morning, he walked up Market Street.

XX.

THE WALKING COMEDY.

BENJAMIN was very hungry, and he was considering

how he could appease his hunger, when he met a

boy who was eating a piece of bread.

"That is what I want," he said to the boy; "where did you get that?"

"Over there, at the bakeshop," the boy replied, pointing to it.

"Thank you,” and Benjamin hurried on.

He had eaten nothing since he dined with the shopwoman in Burlington on the day before. Besides, bread was a staple article with him. He had made many a meal of plain bread in his brother's printing office in Boston. Although he knew well which side his bread was buttered, his appetite for unbuttered bread never failed him. Entering the bakeshop, he inquired :

"Have you

in Boston.

biscuit?" He was thinking of what he had

"We make nothing of the kind.”

"Give me a threepenny loaf, then."

"We have none."

Benjamin began to think he should have to go hungry still, for, evidently, he did not know the names used to designate the different sorts of bread in Philadelphia. But, soon recovering himself, he said :

"Then give me three pennyworth of any kind." To his surprise the baker passed three great puffy rolls to him, enough for three men to eat at one meal. At first he was

puzzled to know what to do with them, whether to take all three or not.

"What! All that ?" he said, scarcely knowing what he did say.

"Yes, there's three pennyworth: that is what you said, was it not?"

"It was," and Benjamin paid the money, and took the loaves, trying to conceal his surprise without exposing his ignorance of methods in the Quaker City. He was a boy of remarkable tact, as we have seen, so that he was never put to his wits long without finding a way out. It was so in this case. He put a roll under each arm, and taking the third one in his hand, he proceeded up the street, eating as he went.

Recollect that it was Sunday morning, and people were already swarming in the streets, arrayed in their best clothes. Benjamin was clad in his poorest clothes, and they were very shabby. His best suit was in the chest, and that was sent from New York by water. He was a sight to behold as he trudged up Market Street with his three loaves of bread, and his large pockets stuffed with shirts and stockings. He preferred pockets to the usual "bandanna bundle"; they were more convenient for storing away his wardrobe, but contributed largely to his comical appearance. He was a walking comedy. People gazed at him inquiringly and smiled. No doubt many of them wondered where he came from, and where he was going. He was seedy enough, but no one saw the seed of a philosopher or statesman about him. There was no promise in that direction. He was an embryo "Minister Plenipotentiary to the Court of France"; but his appearance was that of a shack, or modern tramp, to whom Sunday is like all other days, and whose self-respect was at a large discount.

On he went, however, regardless of opinions concerning the figure he cut, stowing away. in his stomach the baker's loaf in his hand. He passed by the residence of one