om reached new york about noon. it was a bright, pleasant day, and he was in excellent spirits, although he had just lost a fortune. this was partly due, no doubt, to the pleasure which he anticipated from his visit to the great city.

it was not his first visit, but he had not been in it for six years, and then he only stayed a day. to all intents and purposes it was new to him, for he remembered very little about it.

as tom left the cars with a small carpet-bag in his hand, he was accosted by the hackmen.

“have a carriage, sir?”

“how much do you charge?” asked our hero.

“two dollars.”

if tom had still been rich, he would probably have said yes, and got into the cab, but he felt the need of economy, and he declined.

a thin, sallow man of thirty-five heard the colloquy between tom and the hack-driver.

“you are right, my young friend,” said he, stepping to tom’s side, “not to take a carriage. these hackmen are extortionate.”

“two dollars seems rather a steep price,” said tom.

“it is. very likely they’d have charged you five at the end of the route. the city is full of sharpers.”

“is it?” asked tom, with interest.

“i regret to say it is. are you a stranger in new york?”

“yes, sir.”

“if i can be of any service to you—i am a merchant from buffalo, to be here a few days on business—i will with pleasure. i have a nephew of your age.”

“thank you,” said tom. “can you recommend a good hotel—not too dear?”

“up town or down?”

“down.”

“suppose you go to french’s. it’s on the european system. you pay for your room so much a day, and extra for meals.”

“i’ll try it,” said tom.

“then come with me, i’m going there myself. it isn’t far. we can walk.”

“i should like that. it will give me a chance to see something of the city.”

so the two walked together till they reached french’s hotel, at the corner of frankfort street, facing city hall park.

“i suppose we could get a better room if we took one together,” said the stranger.

tom hesitated. he didn’t altogether like the arrangement, but it seemed ungracious to refuse.

“very well,” he said.

“then put down your name in the books.”

tom with some pride, for he had never before stayed at a hotel, wrote in the hotel register, “thomas temple, centerville,” in a bold, round hand.

underneath his companion scrawled the name, “samuel livingston, buffalo.”

“give us a good double-room,” he said to the clerk.

“no. 157,” said the clerk, calling a servant. “show these gentlemen up to no. 157.”

they were shown into a room of good size, comfortably furnished. tom, who was dusty, refreshed himself by washing his face and hands.

“are you hungry?” asked mr. livingston.

“i’ve got rather a healthy appetite,” said tom.

“after you’ve washed we’ll go down into the refectory and have some dinner. it will be more social dining together.”

“just as you like.”

“you must be my guest at dinner.”

“thank you,” said tom, “but i would rather pay for my own dinner.”

“oh, don’t be squeamish.”

“i don’t like to accept favors from a stranger.”

“then to ease your scruples, i will take supper with you.”

tom would prefer to have paid his own way independently of mr. livingston, but as the latter said, it would amount to very much the same thing, so he made no further objections.

they adjourned to the refectory, and although it was not yet one o’clock, both exhibited a hearty appetite. but prices were reasonable, and the united tickets only came to one dollar and a half.

“give me the checks,” said livingston to the waiter.

he opened his pocket-book and examined its contents.

“on second thought,” he said, “my young friend, i will suggest a change in our arrangements. you may pay for the dinner and i will pay for the supper.”

tom looked surprised, and he explained:

“you see,” he continued, in an off-hand tone, “i’ve got a check here for six hundred dollars, which i am going to get cashed. besides this, i have only a little change.”

“will you show me the check?” asked tom, who had become rather suspicious.

“to be sure,” said his companion.

he exhibited a check on the park bank, which looked all right. it was payable to bearer, and was in the sum of six hundred dollars, as he alleged.

tom’s suspicions were allayed. he concluded that his new friend was all right, and settled the bill.

“where are you going this afternoon?” asked livingston.

“i shall walk around the city a little,” said tom.

“i’m sorry i can’t go with you. i have some goods to buy and some other business to attend to, but i’ll meet you in the reading-room at six o’clock and we’ll go down to supper.”

“very well,” said tom. “that will suit me well enough.”

“hope you’ll have a good time. i am glad i fell in with you. i don’t often take up with strangers, but i took a fancy to you at first sight.”

tom felt that he ought to be grateful for this compliment, though he could not reciprocate it. glancing critically at mr. livingston, he acknowledged to himself that he was not a man to whom he would have felt attracted. of course he answered politely, and they separated.

as he stepped outside of the hotel he looked about him a little, and thus attracted the attention of a boot black.

“shine your boots, boss?” asked johnny.

“go ahead,” said tom.

the job was accomplished, and tom thrust his hand into his pocket.

“what’s to pay?” he asked.

“a quarter.”

“what?”

“twenty-five cents.”

“do you think i’ll pay such a price as that?” asked tom indignantly.

“reg’lar price, mister,” said the unprincipled young rascal, who knew from tom’s appearance that he was a stranger. “reg’lar price, isn’t it, micky?”

“’course it is,” said the confederate. “you don’t live in the city, mister, or you’d know.”

but tom’s sharp eyes detected a gentleman near him paying ten cents for a similar service, and he quietly tendered the same amount to the boy.

“you ain’t so green as you look, mister,” said the latter, with a grin.

“thank you,” said tom. “you’ll have to try that game on somebody else. do you often succeed?”

“sometimes,” said the boy.

“if a quarter was the regular price, i’d go into the business myself,” said tom.

“maybe you couldn’t pay the license,” said the knight of the blacking-brush.

“how much is it?”

“five hundred dollars.”

“if that’s all, i’ll buy two,” said tom.

“i’ll sell you mine.”

“i don’t want one second-hand.”

“you’ll do,” said the street boy. “you’ve got your eye-teeth cut.”

“i think i shall need to learn in this city,” thought tom, “where even the boys in the street try to swindle me.”