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: