Do and Dare: A Brave Boy's Fight for Fortune

A trip to Boston.

“To-morrow, Herbert,” said George Melville, as they parted for the day, “I shall propose a new excursion to you.”

Herbert regarded him inquiringly.

“I want to go to Boston to make a few purchases, but principally to consult my physician.”

“I hope you are not feeling any worse, Mr. Melville,” said Herbert, with genuine concern, for he had come to feel a regard for his employer, who was always kind and considerate to him.

“No, I am feeling as well as usual; but I wish to consult Dr. Davies about the coming winter—­whether he would advise me to spend it in Massachusetts.”

“If Mr. Melville goes away, I shall have to look for another place,” thought Herbert, soberly.  It was hardly likely, he knew, that he would obtain a position so desirable as the one he now filled.

“I hope he will be able to do so, Mr. Melville,” he said, earnestly.

“I hope so; but I shall not be surprised if the doctor ordered me away.”

“Then you won’t want me to come to-morrow?”

“Certainly, unless you object to going to Boston with me.”

“Object?” repeated Herbert, eagerly.  “I should like nothing better.”

In fact, our hero, though a well-grown boy of sixteen, had never been to Boston but three times, and the trip, commonplace as it may seem to my traveled young readers, promised him a large amount of novelty and pleasurable excitement.

“I shall be glad of your company, Herbert.  I hardly feel the strength or enterprise to travel alone, even for so trifling a trip as going to Boston.”

“At what hour will you go, Mr. Melville?”

“I will take the second train, at nine o’clock.  It will afford me time enough, and save my getting up before my usual time.”

Herbert would have preferred going by the first train, starting at half-past seven, as it would have given him a longer day in the city, but of course he felt that his employer had decided wisely.

“It will be quite a treat to me, going to Boston,” he said.  “I have only been there three times in my life.”

“You certainly have not been much of a traveler, Herbert,” said George Melville, smiling.  “However, you are young, and you may see a good deal of the world yet before you die.”

“I hope I will.  It must be delightful to travel.”

“Yes, when you are young and strong,” said Melville, thoughtfully.  “That makes a great deal of difference in the enjoyment.”

Herbert did not fail to put in an appearance at the hotel considerably before it was time to leave for the train.  George Melville smiled at his punctuality.

“I wish, Herbert,” he said, “that I could look forward with as much pleasure as you feel to our trip to-day.”

“I wish so, too, Mr. Melville.”

“At any rate, I shall enjoy it better for having a companion.”

The tickets were bought, and they took their places in one of the passenger cars.

Just as the train was ready to start, Herbert saw a young man with a ticket in his hand hurrying along the platform.

“Why, there’s Eben Graham!” he said, in surprise.

“Is he entering the cars?”

“Yes, he has just got into the car behind us.”

“I wonder if he is going to leave Wayneboro for good?”

“Probably he is only going to Boston for the day, perhaps to buy goods.”

Herbert thought it doubtful whether Ebenezer Graham would trust his son so far, but did not say so.  Eben, on his part, had not seen Herbert on board the train, and was not aware that he was a fellow passenger.

The journey was a tolerably long one—­forty miles—­and consumed an hour and a half.  At last they rolled into the depot, and before the train had fairly stopped the passengers began to crowd toward the doors of the car.

“Let us remain till the crowd has passed out,” said George Melville.  “It is disagreeable to me to get into the throng, and it saves very little time.”

“Very well, sir.”

Looking out of the car window, Herbert saw Eben Graham walking swiftly along the platform, and could not forbear wondering what had brought him to the city.

“My doctor’s office is on Tremont Street,” said Mr. Melville.  “I shall go there immediately, and may have to wait some time.  It will be tiresome to you, and I shall let you go where you please.  You can meet me at the Parker House, in School Street, at two o’clock.”

“Very well, sir.”

“Do you know where the hotel is?”

“No, but I can find it,” answered Herbert, confidently.

“I believe I will also get you to attend to a part of my business for me.”

“I shall be very glad to do so,” said Herbert, sincerely.  It made him feel more important to be transacting business in Boston.

“Here is a check for a hundred and fifty dollars on the Merchants’ Bank,” continued George Melville.  “It is payable to the bearer, and you will have no trouble in getting the money on it.  You may present it at the bank, and ask for fives and tens and a few small bills.”

“Very well, sir.”

Herbert felt rather proud to have so much confidence reposed in him, for to him a hundred and fifty dollars seemed a large sum of money, and he felt that George Melville was a rich man to draw so much at one time.

“Had I better go to the bank at once?” he asked.

“Yes, I think so; of course, I need not caution you to take good care of the money.”

“I’ll be sure to do that, sir.”

They walked together to Tremont Street, and Mr. Melville paused at a doorway opposite the Common.

“My doctor’s office is upstairs,” he said.  “We will part here and meet at the hotel.  If you are late, I may go into the dining room; so if you don’t see me in the reading room, go to the door of the dining room and look in.”

“Very well, sir; but I think I shall be on time.”

“The bank is open now, and you can cash the check if you go down there.”

Left to himself, Herbert walked slowly along, looking into shop windows and observing with interested attention the people whom he met.

“It must be very pleasant to live in the city,” he thought; “there is so much going on all the time.”

It is no wonder that country boys are drawn toward the city, and feel that their cup of happiness would be full if they could get a position in some city store.  They do not always find the reality equal to their anticipations.  The long hours and strict discipline of a city office or mercantile establishment are not much like the freedom they pictured to themselves, and after they have paid their board bill in some shabby boarding house they seldom find much left over, either for amusement or needful expenses.  The majority of boys would do better to remain in their country homes, where at least they can live comfortably and at small expense, and take such employment as may fall in their way.  They will stand a much better chance of reaching a competence in middle life than if they helped to crowd the ranks of city clerks and salesmen.  There is many a hard-working clerk of middle age, living poorly, and with nothing laid by, in the city, who, had he remained in his native village, might have reached a modest independence.  It was hardly to be expected, however, that Herbert would feel thus.  Upon him the show and glitter of the city shops and streets produced their natural effect, and he walked on buoyantly, seeing three times as much as a city boy would have done.

He turned down School Street, passing the Parker House, where he was to meet Mr. Melville.  Just before he reached it he saw Eben Graham emerge from the hotel and walk towards Washington Street.  Eben did not look behind him, and therefore did not see Herbert.

“I wonder where he is going?” thought our hero, as he followed a few steps behind Eben.