“Mr. Crosby,” said Ben, suddenly, addressing the postmaster, “you remember about Paul Prescott’s running away from the Poorhouse?”

“Yes, I didn’t blame the poor boy a bit.  I never liked Mudge, and they say his wife is worse than he.”

“Well, suppose the town should find out where he is, could they get him back again?”

“Bless you! no.  They ain’t so fond of supporting paupers.  If he’s able to earn his own living, they won’t want to interfere with him.”

“Well, this letter is from him,” said Ben.  “He’s found a pleasant family in New York, who have adopted him.”

“I’m glad of it,” said Mr. Crosby, heartily.  “I always liked him.  He was a fine fellow.”

“That’s just what I think.  I’ll read his letter to you, if you would like to hear it.”

“I should, very much.  Come in behind here, and sit down.”

Ben went inside the office, and sitting down on a stool, read Paul’s letter.  As our reader may be interested in the contents, we will take the liberty of looking over Ben’s shoulder while he reads.

New York, Oct. 10, 18—.

Dear Ben:—­

I have been intending to write to you before, knowing the kind interest which you take in me.  I got safely to New York a few days after I left Wrenville.  I didn’t have so hard a time as I expected, having fallen in with a pedler, who was very kind to me, with whom I rode thirty or forty miles.  I wish I had time to tell all the adventures I met with on the way, but I must wait till I see you.

When I got to the city, I was astonished to find how large it was.  The first day I got pretty tired wandering about, and strayed into a church in the evening, not knowing where else to go.  I was so tired I fell asleep there, and didn’t wake up till morning.  When I found myself locked up in a great church, I was frightened, I can tell you.  It was only Thursday morning, and I was afraid I should have to stay there till Sunday.  If I had, I am afraid I should have starved to death.  But, fortunately for me, the sexton came in the morning, and let me out.  That wasn’t all.  He very kindly took me home with him, and then told me I might live with him and go to school.  I like him very much, and his wife too.  I call them Uncle Hugh and Aunt Hester.  When you write to me, you must direct to the care of Mr. Hugh Cameron, 10 R——­ Street.  Then it will be sure to reach me.

I am going to one of the city schools.  At first, I was a good deal troubled because I was so far behind boys of my age.  You know I hadn’t been to school for a long time before I left Wrenville, on account of father’s sickness.  But I studied pretty hard, and now I stand very well.  I sometimes think, Ben, that you don’t care quite so much about study as you ought to.  I wish you would come to feel the importance of it.  You must excuse me saying this, as we have always been such good friends.