CHAPTER XII. — CLARENCE BROWN.
Sam continued to walk about in the neighborhood of the City Hall Park, first in one direction, then in another; but at last he became fatigued. It had been an unusually exciting day, and he had taken more exercise than usual, though he had not worked; for his morning walk, added to his rambles about the city streets, probably amounted to not less than twelve miles. Then, too, Sam began to realize what older and more extensive travellers know well, that nothing is more wearisome than sight-seeing.
So the problem forced itself upon his attention—where was he to sleep? The bed he slept in the night before was more than a hundred miles away. It struck Sam as strange, for we must remember how inexperienced he was, that he must pay for the use of a bed. How much, he had no idea, but felt that it was time to make some inquiries.
He went into a hotel on the European system, and asked a man who was standing at the cigar stand, "What do you charge for sleeping here?"
"Ask of that man at the desk," said the cigar-vender.
Sam followed directions, and, approaching the room-clerk, preferred the same inquiry.
"One dollar," was the answer.
"One dollar, just for sleeping?" inquired Sam, in surprise, for in his native village he knew that the school-teacher got boarded for three dollars a week, board and lodging complete for seven days.
"Those are our terms," said the clerk.
"I don't care about a nice room," said Sam, hoping to secure a reduction.