present conducted, these places are more productive of evil than of good. Boys are thrust into a House of Refuge where they find many associates more hardened than themselves, and where they learn a good deal of wickedness which they did not know before. The more advanced in crime become the teachers of those who are just entering the broad path. Impure habits are terribly common among the boys confined in these Houses of Refuge. Even worse is the condition of many of the asylums and reformatories for women. If a woman has once fallen, she will not be apt to be reclaimed by entering one of these places. Better far if the mother or father of a girl who has gone astray should say to her, “You have done wrong, but I will not cast you off; try to redeem the past by making your life pure hereafter.” Such words as those would do more to restore Magdalene to true womanhood than all the philanthropic institutions which were ever erected. Ben Hogan bears testimony to the fact that he learned nothing good during his three months’ sojourn in the Rochester institution; and unless he had been a pretty clear-headed boy he would have come out a good deal worse than he did.

Upon returning home, Ben tried his hand at cabinet-making again; but he was no more contented than before. Opposite his father’s shop was a building with a chain running over a pulley, and this chain was a constant temptation to our hero. Whenever he could get the opportunity, he would slip out and climb up the chain to the top of the building, letting himself down head foremost with his feet. This performance excited considerable admiration from those who witnessed it, and the young athlete was called upon to repeat it frequently.

One day a dispute arose between Ben and the foreman of the shop, in which the latter undertook to tell the boy what he should, and what he should not do. Thinking that one “boss” was enough, and that his father rightfully held that position, the young cabinet-maker gave an exhibition of his skill in the manly art by planting a backhander square on the foreman’s nose. When he picked himself up, he was more of a hind man than a foreman. And he didn’t have any more to say to Ben.

Shortly after this episode, the desire to see the world again took possession of our hero, and with very little preparation he left Syracuse. He took with him Red Jacket, Joe Heizler, Nick Shearer, and as big a stock of crackers and cheese as could be purchased for a dollar and a half. It may be remarked incidentally that the crackers and cheese stood by Ben better than any of his companions. They traveled by the Erie canal as far as Schenectady, and there got a job at cutting broom-corn. Red Jacket and the others soon became homesick, and at the end of a couple of weeks disappeared; but Ben kept pluckily to his work, and at the end of five weeks he set out for Albany with a new suit of clothes and fifteen dollars in his pocket. I say “pocket,” although he really carried his money in his stocking. The conductor on the train was induced to let the boy ride free, Ben telling him that he hadn’t a cent of money, and that he would pay him some other time.

THE WAMBOLD.

Once in Albany, our hero lost no time in securing work, which he found on the tow-boat “Belle.” His idea was to get to New York, and then to strike out at whatever presented itself. The captain of the “Belle” evinced a good deal of interest in the boy, and proposed to take him to his home in the country when the boating season should end. Ben listened demurely to this proposition, and said he “would see.” After making a couple of trips or so, the captain wasn’t able to see his protege as much as formerly. In fact, Ben had no relish for the idea of a home in the country and so remained in New York.

It was at this period that he shipped as cabin-boy on the “Humboldt,” where he continued for two years. His readiness to do whatever was demanded of him, added to his indomitable pluck, enabled him to make a considerable sum in the way of extra wages; so that at the end of the two years he had saved up two hundred and seventy-five dollars in gold. This entire amount he sent to his father in Syracuse. The fact that he did not even let his parents know from whom the money came, furnishes an excellent illustration of his character. Throughout his life Ben Hogan has done a good many generous acts, but he has not troubled himself about advertising them to the world.

It was during the time that his ship was lying in port that Ben happened to be passing through Crosby street one night, when he saw, in blazing letters, the word “Gymnasium.” That was a staggerer for the young tar. He had heard of a good many curious things in this world, but he had never before heard of a gymnasium. Crossing the street, he stood looking eagerly at the entrance of the building, when the door opened, and he caught sight of ropes and chains and flying-rings. That proved too much for him to withstand, and so he made his way into the place. The apparatus filled him with wonder, but he took to it as naturally as a duck takes to water, or a Fourth Ward politician takes to whisky. Seeing others lifting the dumb-bells and swinging the clubs, he forthwith began to do the same himself. His fun was suddenly interrupted by the proprietor of the place, who came up and demanded what he was doing.

“Don’t you see?” answered Ben, raising first one hand and then the other.

“But you don’t belong here,” continued the proprietor.

“Oh, that don’t make any difference,” answered the young salt, vigorously working with the bells; “I’ll do this for nothing—you needn’t mind about paying me!”

The gymnasium proprietor stared in amazement, but Ben was too much in earnest to admit of the suspicion that he was “guying.” Finally he explained to the boy that a course of lessons would cost twenty-five dollars. Ben offered twenty-five cents for a part of a course, but the offer was not accepted. Then the teacher induced him to put on the gloves, and pitted him against a boy of about his own size. The other boy understood boxing and Ben didn’t. The result was that our hero, although he showed plenty of pluck and was game all through, came out second best. He resolved, then and there, that he would get somebody to show him how to use his hands, and take satisfaction out of that “other boy.”

This resolve he carried out. Upon the recommendation of the gymnasium keeper, he called upon Wood, and showed such aptness in the manly art, that in two weeks’ time he went back and polished off his former antagonist in the most approved style.

The fascination of the gloves proved so strong that Ben made up his mind to leave the “Humboldt,” which he accordingly did. Devoting pretty much all his time to the practice of boxing, he soon became wonderfully expert for one of his age, and was known in sporting circles as “The Sailor Boy.” Under the patronage of Billy Clark, he attended a sparring exhibition one night, and was matched against a boy considerably bigger than himself, but whom he disposed of in short order. Then the crowd found a second youth, who also put on the mittens, but finding that “The Sailor Boy” was too much for him, resorted to his feet, and dealt Ben a kick.

This was a style of boxing which our young hero had not been taught; nevertheless, he was prepared to pay back in the same coin. He had on, at that time, a pair of heavy brogans, such as are often seen upon German emigrants. Dropping at once to the little