One evening about a week after the occurrences related in the last chapter, when Phonny’s foot had got entirely well, Mrs. Henry went to the door which led to the back yard with a letter in her hand. She was looking for Stuyvesant.

Presently she saw him and Phonny coming through the garden gate with tools in their hands. They had been down to build a bridge across a small brook in a field beyond the garden.

“Stuyvesant,” said Mrs. Henry, “I have just received a letter from your father.”

Stuyvesant’s eye brightened as Mrs. Henry said this, and he pressed eagerly forward to learn what the letter contained.

“It is about you,” said Mrs. Henry, “and it is a very important letter indeed.”

“What is it?” said Phonny eagerly. “Read it to us, mother.”

So Mrs. Henry opened the letter and read it as follows,—the boys standing before her all the time, with their tools in their hands.

“New York, June 20.

Here Mrs. Henry raised her eyes from the letter as if she had read all that related to the subject, and Phonny immediately exclaimed.

“Send me, mother; send me. I’ll go and take care of him. Let me go, Stivy, that will be the best plan.” As he said this Phonny, using his hoe for a vaulting pole, began to leap about the yard with delight at the idea.

Stuyvesant remained where he was, with a pleased though thoughtful expression of countenance, but saying nothing.

“I’ll give you two hours to think of it,” said Mrs. Henry, addressing Stuyvesant. “You must set off either alone or with Beechnut to-morrow morning.”

“Well,” said Stuyvesant, “I will think of it and come to tell you. And now, Phonny, let us go and put away the tools.”

In the course of the two hours which Stuyvesant was allowed for considering the question, he made a great many inquiries of Beechnut in respect to the journey, asking not only in relation to the course which he should pursue at the different points in the journey if every thing went prosperously and well, but also in regard to what he should do in the various contingencies which might occur on the way.

“Do you advise me to try it?” said Stuyvesant.

“Yes,” said Beechnut, “by all means; and that is very disinterested advice, for there is nothing that I should like better than to go with you.”

Mrs. Henry herself afterward asked Beechnut if he thought it would be safe for Stuyvesant to go alone.

“Just as safe,” said Beechnut, “as it would be for him to go under my charge. There is always danger of accidents, in traveling,” he added, “but there is no more danger for Stuyvesant alone than if he were in company.”

“But will he know what to do always,” said Mrs. Henry, “in order to get along?”

“I think he will,” said Beechnut. “I shall explain it all to him beforehand.”

“But there may be some accident,” said Mrs. Henry. “The train may run off the track, or there may be a collision.”

“That is true,” replied Beechnut, “but those things will be as likely to happen if I were with him as if he were alone. It seems to me that when a boy gets as old as Stuyvesant, the only advantage of having some one with him when he is traveling is to keep him from doing careless or foolish things,—and Stuyvesant can take care of himself in that respect.”

It was finally decided that Stuyvesant should go alone.

About eight o’clock, Mrs. Henry went up into Stuyvesant’s room to pack his trunk, but she found it packed already. Stuyvesant had put every thing in, and had arranged the various articles in a very systematic and orderly manner. The trunk was all ready to be locked and strapped; but it was left open in order that Mrs. Henry might see that all was right.

Besides his trunk, Stuyvesant had a small carpet-bag, which contained such things as he expected to have occasion to use on the way. In this carpet-bag was a night-dress, rolled up snugly, and also a change of clean linen. Besides these things there were two books which Stuyvesant had borrowed of Phonny to read in the cars, in case there should chance to be any detention by the way. Stuyvesant had a small morocco portfolio too, which shut with a clasp, and contained note and letter paper, and wafers and postage stamps. This portfolio he always carried with him on his journeys, so that he could, at any time, have writing materials at hand, in case he wished to write a letter. He carried the portfolio in his carpet-bag. There was a small square morocco-covered inkstand also in the carpet-bag. It shut with a spring and a catch, and kept the ink very securely.

Mrs. Henry calculated that it would cost Stuyvesant about ten dollars to go from Franconia to New York; so she put ten dollars, in small bills, in Stuyvesant’s wallet, and also a ten dollar bill besides, in the inner compartment of his wallet, to be used in case of emergency. When all these arrangements were made, she told Stuyvesant that he might go and find Beechnut, and get his directions.

Stuyvesant accordingly went in pursuit of Beechnut. He found him sitting on a bench, under a trellis covered with woodbine, at the kitchen door, enjoying the cool of the evening. Malleville was with him, and he was telling her a story. Stuyvesant and Phonny came and sat down upon the bench near to Beechnut.

“So then it is decided that you are to go alone,” said Beechnut.

“Yes,” said Stuyvesant, “and I have come to you to get my directions.”

“Well,” said Beechnut. “I am glad you are going. You will have a very pleasant journey, I have no doubt,—that is, if you have accidents enough.”

“Accidents!” said Stuyvesant. “So you wish me to meet with accidents?”

“Yes,” said Beechnut. “I don’t desire that you should meet with any very serious or dangerous accidents, but the more common accidents that you meet with, the more you will have to amuse and entertain you. If it were only winter now, there would be a prospect that you might be blocked up in a snow storm.”

“Hoh!” said Phonny, “that would be a dreadful thing.”

“No,” replied Beechnut, “not dreadful at all. For people who are on business, and who are in haste to get to the end of their journey, it is bad to meet with accidents and delays; but for boys, and for people who are traveling for pleasure, the more adventures they meet with the better.”

“Accidents are not adventures,” said Phonny.

“They lead to adventures,” replied Beechnut.

“But now for my directions,” said Stuyvesant.

“Well, as for your directions,” replied Beechnut, “I can either go over the whole ground with you, and tell you what to do in each particular case,—or I can give you one universal rule, which will guide you in traveling in all cases, wherever you go. Which would you prefer?”

“I should prefer the rule,” said Stuyvesant, “if that will be enough to guide me.”

“Yes,” said Beechnut, “it is enough to guide you, not only from here to New York, but all over the civilized world.”

“What is the rule?” asked Stuyvesant.

“I shall write it down for you,” replied Beechnut, “and you can read it in the stage, to-morrow morning, or in the cars.”

“Well,” said Stuyvesant,—“if you are sure that it will be enough for me.”

“Yes,” replied Beechnut, “I am sure it will be enough. It is the rule that I always travel by, and I find it will carry me safely anywhere. It is an excellent rule for ladies, who are traveling alone. If they would only trust themselves to it, it would be all the guidance that they would need.”

“Well,” said Stuyvesant, “I will decide to take the rule.”

Shortly after this, Beechnut and the children all went into the house, and Stuyvesant and Phonny went to bed. Stuyvesant was so much excited, however, at the thoughts of his journey, that it was a long time before he could get to sleep.

He woke at the earliest dawn. He rose and dressed himself, and took his breakfast at six o’clock. At seven the stage came for him. Beechnut carried his trunk out to the stage, and the driver strapped it on in its place, behind. Mrs. Henry and Malleville stood at the door to see. Stuyvesant went first to the kitchen, to bid Dorothy good-by, and then came out through the front door, and bade Mrs. Henry and Malleville good-by.

By this time the driver of the stage had finished strapping on the trunk, and had opened the door and was waiting for Stuyvesant to get in. Beechnut handed Stuyvesant a small note. He said that the Traveling Rule was inside of it, but that Stuyvesant must not open the note until he got into the car on the railroad. So Stuyvesant took the note and put it in his pocket, and then shaking hands with Beechnut and Phonny, and putting his carpet-bag in before him, he climbed up the steps and got into the stage. The driver shut the door, mounted upon the box, and drove away.

Stuyvesant had about twenty-five miles to go in the stage. He was then to take the cars upon a railroad and go about a hundred and fifty miles to Boston. From Boston he was to go to New York, either by the railroad all the way, or by one of the Sound boats, just as he pleased.

Stuyvesant had a great curiosity to know what the rule was which Beechnut had written for him as a universal direction for traveling. He had, however, been forbidden to open the note until he should reach the cars. So he waited patiently, wondering what the rule could be.

One reason in fact why Beechnut had directed Stuyvesant not to open his note until he should reach the cars, was to give him something to occupy his attention and amuse his thoughts on first going away from home. The feeling of loneliness and home-sickness to be apprehended in traveling under such circumstances, is always much greater when first setting out on the journey than afterward, and Beechnut being aware of this, thought it desirable to give Stuyvesant something to think of when he first drove away from the door.

When Stuyvesant first got into the stage he took a place on the middle of the front seat, which was not a very good place, for he could not see. Pretty soon, however, he had an opportunity to change to a place on the middle seat, near the window. Here he enjoyed the ride very much. He could look out and see the farms, and the farm-houses, and the people passing, as the stage drove along, and at intervals he amused himself with listening to the conversation of the people in the stage.

It was about ten o’clock when the stage arrived at the railroad station. As they drew near to the place, Stuyvesant began to consider what he should have to do in respect to getting his trunk transferred from the stage to the train of cars. He knew very well that he could ask the driver what to do, but he felt an ambition to find out himself, and he accordingly concluded to wait until after he had got out of the stage, and had had an opportunity to make his own observations before troubling the driver with his questions. As for his ticket, he was aware that he must buy that at the ticket-office, and he supposed that he could find the ticket-office very readily.

When the stage stopped, Stuyvesant and all the other passengers go out. The stage was standing near a platform which extended along the side of one of the buildings of the station. As soon as the passengers had got out, the driver began to take off the trunks from the rack behind the stage, and to put them on the platform.

There was a gentleman among the passengers who had said in the course of conversation in the stage, that he belonged in Boston, and was going there. It occurred to Stuyvesant that it would be a good plan to watch this man and see what he would do in respect to his trunk, and then do the same in respect to his own. So he stood on the platform while the driver was taking down the trunks, and said nothing.

The driver put the trunks and baggage down, in heaps of confusion all about the platform, and though the passengers were all standing around, none of them paid much attention to what he was doing; this led Stuyvesant to think that there was no urgent necessity for haste or anxiety about the business, but that in some way or other it would all come right in the end. So he stood quietly by, and said nothing.

The result was just as he had anticipated; for after he had been standing there a short time, a man with a band about his hat, on which were inscribed the words baggage-master, came out from a door in the station-house, and advancing toward the baggage with a business-like air, he said,

“Now then, gentlemen, tell me where all this baggage is going to?”

As the baggage-master said this, the people standing by began to point out their several trunks, and to say where they were to go. As fast as the baggage-master was informed of the destination of the trunks and carpet-bags, he would fasten a check upon each one by means of a small strap, and give the mate of the check to the owner of the baggage. Stuyvesant stood quietly by, watching this operation until it came to the turn of the gentleman who he had observed was going to Boston.

“That trunk is to go to Boston,” said the gentleman, pointing to his trunk.

So the baggage-master checked the trunk and gave the duplicate check to the gentleman.

“And that trunk is to go to Boston too,” said Stuyvesant, pointing to his own trunk.

So the baggage-master put a check upon Stuyvesant’s trunk and gave Stuyvesant the duplicate of it.

Stuyvesant observed that as soon as the baggage was checked, the owners of it appeared to go away at once, and to give themselves no farther concern about it, and he inferred that it would be safe for him to do so too. So he went into the station to find the ticket-office, in order to buy his ticket. He saw, in a corner of the room, a sort of window with a counter before it, and a sign, with the words Ticket Office above. Stuyvesant went to this window. The Boston gentleman was there, buying his ticket.

“One for Boston,” said the gentleman. As he said this, he laid down a bank-bill upon the counter just within the window. The ticket seller gave him two tickets and some change.

“He said one and he has got two,” said Stuyvesant to himself. “I wonder what that means.”

Stuyvesant then took the Boston gentleman’s place at the window, and laid down a bank bill upon the counter, saying:

“Half a one, for Boston.”

The ticket-seller looked at Stuyvesant a moment over his spectacles, with a very inquiring expression of countenance, and then said,

“How old are you, my boy?”

“I am between nine and ten,” said Stuyvesant.

“And are you going to Boston, all alone?” asked the man.

“Yes, sir,” said Stuyvesant.

So the man gave Stuyvesant two tickets and his change, and Stuyvesant put them, tickets, money and all, carefully in his wallet, and turned away. He observed that each of his tickets had one of the corners cut off. This was to show that they were for a boy who had only paid half-price.

As Stuyvesant turned to go away, he met the driver of the stage coming toward him.

“Ah, Stuyvesant,” said he, “I was looking for you. Have you got your tickets?”

“Yes,” said Stuyvesant.

“And is your trunk checked?” asked the driver.

“Yes,” said Stuyvesant.

“Very well, then; it’s all right. I was going to show you. I did not suppose that you knew how to take care of yourself so well.”

There were no cars at the station at this time. It was a way station, and the train was to pass there, and stop a few minutes to take up passengers, but it had not yet arrived. Stuyvesant went round to see what had been done with his trunk. It had been removed from the place where he had left it, but after a time he found it, with others, on another platform near the railroad track. He supposed that that was the place where the train was to come in.

He was right in this supposition, for in a few minutes the sound of the whistle was heard in the distance, and soon afterward the train came thundering in. It slackened its speed as it advanced, and finally stopped opposite to the platform on which Stuyvesant was standing. The baggage-master put the trunks into the baggage car, and the passengers got into the passenger cars, and in a very few minutes the bell rang, and the train began to move on again. Stuyvesant got an excellent seat near a window.

“Now,” said he, “for Beechnut’s rule.”

So Stuyvesant opened his note, and read as follows:—

“UNIVERSAL RULE FOR INEXPERIENCED TRAVELERS.
“Keep a quiet mind, and do as other people do. Beechnut.”

“That’s just what I have been doing all the time,” said Stuyvesant to himself, as soon as he had read the paper. “I found out Beechnut’s rule myself, before he told me.”

This was true; for Stuyvesant’s instinctive good sense and sagacity had taught him that when traveling with a multitude of other people, who were almost all perfectly familiar with the usages of the road, a stranger would always find sufficient means of guidance in his observation of those about him. It gave Stuyvesant pleasure to think that he had found out the way to travel himself, and he was very glad to have the wisdom of the method which he had adopted, confirmed by Beechnut’s testimony.

During the whole of the journey to Boston, Stuyvesant guided himself by observation of those about him. When the conductor came for the tickets Stuyvesant looked to see what the others did, and then did the same himself. At one time the cars stopped, and all the passengers rose from their seats and seemed to be going out. Stuyvesant accordingly rose and went with them. There was a man on the platform, who called out as the people stepped down from the cars, “Passengers for Boston will take the forward cars on the right.” Stuyvesant followed the crowd and entered with them into the cars of another train. In fact the travelers had arrived at what is called a junction, that is to a place where they come upon a railroad belonging to another company, and here of course they took another train. The fact that there were two railroads and two companies was the reason why each passenger had two tickets.

Stuyvesant wondered whether the baggage men would remember to transfer his trunk to the new train, without his attending to it, but as he observed that the other passengers did nothing about their trunks, but went at once into the new cars, he concluded that he had nothing to do but follow their example.

When he arrived at Boston it was very late. This was owing to a detention which took place on the road through a somewhat singular cause. It seems that there was in one part of the road a very narrow cut, through a rocky hill, and the company were attempting to widen it in order to make a double track. They had accordingly been blasting the rocks on one side of the cut, and having fired a very heavy charge just before the train that Stuyvesant was in came along, an immense mass of rocks had fallen down into the cut and covered the track so that the train could not get by. The workman had accordingly sent a man along with a red flag to stop the train when it should come, and in the mean time they went to work with an enormous crane, which was set up on the rocks above, to hoist the stones off from the track, and swing them out of the way. A great many of the passengers got out and went forward when the train stopped, in order to see this operation; and Stuyvesant felt himself authorized by Beechnut’s rule to go with them. It took more than half an hour to raise and remove the rocks so as to clear the track, and Stuyvesant had a very pleasant time in watching the operation, and in listening to the remarks of the men who were standing around.

On account of this delay, and of some subsequent delays which were caused by this one, it was quite late when the train arrived in Boston. When the cars at length reached the Boston station and the passengers began to get out, a great scene of noise and confusion ensued.

“Now,” said Stuyvesant to himself, “I must obey the first part of Beechnut’s direction, and keep a quiet mind.”

He accordingly rose from his seat, and taking his carpet-bag in his hand he went out with the rest of the passengers. There was a great crowd of hackmen on the platform, all clamorously shouting together to the passengers, offering their carriages and calling out the names of the several hotels. Stuyvesant observed that those before him who wished for a hack would quietly speak to one of these men, give him their baggage tickets and then ask him to show them his carriage. Stuyvesant accordingly did the same. He spoke to a man who was standing there with a whip in his hand and asking every body if they wanted a carriage.

“I want a carriage,” said Stuyvesant. “I want to go to the Marlboro’ Hotel.”

“Yes,” said the man, eagerly. “I’ll take you right there. Walk this way and I’ll show you the carriage.”

So Stuyvesant followed the man and got into his carriage. At the same time he gave him his check and said, “That’s for my trunk.” The man took the check and went away. In about ten minutes he returned with the trunk, and after fastening it upon the carriage behind, he got upon the box and drove away.

Stuyvesant had a very fine time at the Marlboro’ Hotel. He had a good bed-room to sleep in that night, and an excellent breakfast the next morning. He took a little walk in Washington-street after breakfast, and then wrote a short letter to Phonny to tell him how well he had got along on his journey. He wrote this letter in his room, having all the necessary materials in his portfolio. When his letter was finished, he brought it to the office of the hotel, and asked the clerk how he could get that letter to the post-office.

“Put it right in there,” said the clerk.

So saying, the clerk pointed to a letter-box on the counter, with an opening at the top, and Stuyvesant dropped the letter in. He then told the clerk that he wished to go to New York that day by the afternoon train. The clerk said that it was very well, and that he would have a carriage ready at the proper time to take him to the station. Stuyvesant had no idea where the station was, or what the arrangements would be there about checks and tickets; but he had no doubt that he should find plenty of people there who were going to New York that day, and that he could very easily find out, by observing them, what he would have to do.

And so it proved. He had no difficulty whatever. In fact, all that he had to do was to throw himself, as it were, into the current, and be floated along to New York without any care or concern. He arrived very safely there at last, and his father was quite proud of him when he found that he had come all the way home alone.

THE END.

Footnotes:

Transcriber’s Note:

Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters’ errors; otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author’s words and intent.