“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.