"Yes, my lad, I was a poor boy once,—as poor as you are."
"Where did you live?" asked Ben, interested.
"In a country town in New England. My father died early, and I was left alone in the world. So I hired myself out to a farmer for a dollar a week and board. I had to be up at five every morning, and work all day. My wages, you see, amounted to only about sixteen cents a day and board for twelve hours' work."
"Why didn't you run away?" inquired Ben.
"I didn't know where to run to."
"I s'pose you aint workin' for that now?" said our hero.
"No, I've been promoted," said the gentleman, smiling. "Of course I got higher pay, as I grew older. Still, at twenty-one I found myself with only two hundred dollars. I worked a year longer till it became three hundred, and then I went out West,—to Ohio,—where I took up a quarter-section of land, and became a farmer on my own account. Since then I've dipped into several things, have bought more land, which has increased in value on my hands, till now I am probably worth fifty thousand dollars."
"I'm glad of it," said Ben.
"Why?"
"Because you can afford to pay me liberal for smashin' your baggage."