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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 148 pages of information about The Adventures of a Boy Reporter.

When he had eaten his breakfast he started out again.  The woman told him that it was only about fifteen miles to New York, and that after he had walked about six of them he could take a trolley-car and ride the remainder of the distance for five cents.  So he thanked her for her kindness, and promised to let her know how he succeeded in the city, for the woman was much interested in his future.  He felt almost sorry to leave the home-like place, but the prospect of reaching the city this very day was enough to make him anxious to be off.  He covered the six miles to the trolley-car before eleven o’clock in the morning, and then in an hour and a quarter more the trolley landed him in lower New York.

His sensations as he was whirled along the smooth pavements, past beautiful buildings and handsome residences, may be better imagined than described.  After looking forward to this day for so long, he was almost overcome at the realisation of his hopes, and took the utmost delight in everything about him.  When the car stopped at the terminus of the line, he got out and walked up the busiest street in the neighbourhood.  He hardly knew what to do first, but continued walking until he came to the New York end of the great Brooklyn Bridge.  Then he couldn’t resist the desire to walk across the bridge, and he started out upon the journey.  Up the steps he walked, and soon he had climbed as far as the middle of the magnificent structure.  There he stood for some time, looking out over Governor’s Island, nestled like a green egg in a nest of red buildings, and past Staten Island to the open sea beyond It was all grander, more beautiful than anything he had ever seen before, and he felt glad that he had come.  Then in another direction he saw the never-ending succession of buildings, some tall, some low ones, but all inhabited with swarms of people.  “There are three million people in this great city,” he said to himself, “and over them in New Jersey, in those cities I see, there are a million more, and I am one of four million.”  The thought was too much for the boy, and he continued his walk across the bridge.  Once across, he came back again, for Brooklyn was a strange place to him.  In New York City he felt more at home, for he had at least spent two days within its limits.

Once back in the busy streets, he decided to look about for a cheap place to stay for the night.  It was the middle of the afternoon now, and he felt that he ought to make some preparation.  He knew better than to apply at the police station for lodging, for he knew they would probably turn him over to the famous Gerry Society, which would send him back home before a day had passed, and then where would his ambitions be?

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