"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."
"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."
"Because you can afford to pay me liberal for smashin' your baggage."
"What do you call liberal?" inquired his patron, smiling.
"Then I will be liberal. Now, suppose you tell me something about yourself. How long have you been a 'baggage-smasher,' as you call it?"
"You must have begun young. How old are you now?"
"You'll soon be a man. What do you intend to do then?"
"I haven't thought much about it," said Ben, with truth.
"You don't mean to carry baggage all your life, do you?"
"I guess not," answered Ben. "When I get to be old and infirm, I'm goin' into some light, genteel employment, such as keepin' a street stand."
"So that is your highest ambition, is it?" asked the stranger.
"I don't think I've got any ambition," said Ben. "As long as I make a livin', I don't mind."
"When you see well-dressed gentlemen walking down Broadway, or riding in their carriages, don't you sometimes think it would be agreeable if you could be in their place?"
"I should like to have a lot of money," said Ben. "I wouldn't mind bein' the president of a bank, or a railway-director, or somethin' of that kind."
"I am afraid you have never thought seriously upon the subject of your future," said Ben's companion, "or you wouldn't be satisfied with your present business."
"What else can I do? I'd rather smash baggage than sell papers or black boots."
"I would not advise either. I'll tell you what you ought to do, my young friend. You should leave the city, and come out West. I'll give you something to do on one of my farms, and promote you as you are fit for it."