Joe's Luck

At the commercial hotel.

Joe had never been in New York and when he arrived the bustle and confusion at first bewildered him.

“Have a hack, young man?” inquired a jehu.

“What’ll you charge?”

“A dollar and a half, and half-a-dollar for your baggage.”

“This is all the baggage I have,” said Joe, indicating a bundle tied in a red cotton handkerchief.

“Then, I’ll only charge a dollar and a half,” said the hackman.

“I’ll walk,” said Joe.  “I can’t afford to pay a dollar and a half.”

“You can’t walk; it’s too far.”

“How far is it?”

“Ten miles, more or less,” answered the hackman.

“Then I shall save fifteen cents a mile,” said Joe, not much alarmed, for he did not believe the statement.

“If you lose your way, don’t blame me.”

Joe made his way out of the crowd, and paused at the corner of the next street for reflection.  Finally he stopped at an apple and peanut stand, and, as a matter of policy, purchased an apple.

“I am from the country,” he said, “and I want to find a cheap hotel.  Can you recommend one to me?”

“Yes,” said the peanut merchant.  “I know of one where they charge a dollar a day.”

“Is that cheap?  What do they charge at the St. Nicholas?”

“Two dollars a day.”

“A day?” asked Joe, in amazement.

It must be remembered that this was over fifty years ago.  Joe would have greater cause to be startled at the prices now asked at our fashionable hotels.

“Well, you can go to the cheap hotel.”

“Where is it?”

The requisite directions were given.  It was the Commercial Hotel, located in a down-town street.

The Commercial Hotel, now passed away, or doing business under a changed name, was not a stylish inn.

It was rather dark and rather dingy, but Joe did not notice that particularly.  He had never seen a fine hotel, and this structure, being four stories in height above the offices, seemed to him rather imposing than otherwise.

He walked up to the desk, on which was spread out, wide open, the hotel register.  Rather a dissipated-looking clerk stood behind the counter, picking his teeth.

“Good morning, sir,” said Joe politely.  “What do you charge to stay here?”

“A dollar a day,” answered the clerk.

“Can you give me a room?”

“I guess so, my son.  Where is your trunk?”

“I haven’t got any.”

“Haven’t you got any baggage?”

“Here it is.”

The clerk looked rather superciliously at the small bundle.

“Then you’ll have to pay in advance.”

“All right,” said Joe.  “I’ll pay a day in advance.”

A freckle-faced boy was summoned, provided with the key of No. 161, and Joe was directed to follow him.

“Shall I take your bundle?” he asked.

“No, thank you.  I can carry it myself.”

They went up-stairs, until Joe wondered when they were going to stop.  Finally the boy paused at the top floor, for the very good reason that he could get no higher, and opened the door of 161.

“There you are,” said the boy.  “Is there anything else you want?”

“No, thank you.”

“I’m sorry there ain’t a bureau to keep your clothes,” said the freckle-faced boy, glancing at Joe’s small bundle with a smile.

“It is inconvenient,” answered Joe, taking the joke.

“You wouldn’t like some hot water for shaving, would you?” asked the boy, with a grin.

“You can have some put on to heat and I’ll order it when my beard is grown,” said Joe good-naturedly.

“All right.  I’ll tell ’em to be sure and have it ready in two or three years.”

“That will be soon enough.  You’d better order some for yourself at the same time.”

“Oh, I get in hot water every day.”

The freckle-faced boy disappeared, and Joe sat down on the bed, to reflect a little on his position and plans.

So here he was in New York, and on the way to California, too—­that is, he hoped so.  How much can happen in a little while.  Three days before he had not dreamed of any change in his position.

“I hope I shan’t have to go back again to Oakville.  I won’t go unless I am obliged to,” he determined.

He washed his hands and face, and went down-stairs.  He found that dinner was just ready.  It was not a luxurious meal, but, compared with the major’s rather frugal table, there was great variety and luxury.  Joe did justice to it.

“Folks live better in the city than they do in the country,” he thought; “but, then, they have to pay for it.  A dollar a day!  Why, that would make three hundred and sixty-five dollars a year!”

This to Joe seemed a very extravagant sum to spend on one person’s board and lodging.

“Now,” thought Joe, after dinner was over, “the first thing for me to find out is when the California steamer starts and what is the lowest price I can go for.”

In the barroom Joe found a file of two of the New York daily papers, and began to search for the advertisement of the California steamers.

At last he found it.

The steamer was to start in three days.  Apply for passage and any information at the company’s offices.

“I’ll go right down there, and find out whether I’ve got money enough to take me,” Joe decided.