ilroad office, on
Broadway, and bought a through-ticket to Cincinnati. This was the city
where, according to Jacob's story, his father had been in business, and
he himself had been born. His inquiries for the uncle who had defrauded
him must commence here.

Having taken his seat in the cars, he was led to make an examination of
his pocket-book. He found it, by no means, well filled. A hundred
dollars had seemed to him a good deal of money, but he had expended
half of it for clothes. His railway ticket, and the money he left at
the hospital, consumed thirty dollars more, and he had, therefore, but
twenty dollars left.

"That ain't much to set up as a gentleman on," said Tom to himself. "I
didn't know it cost so much to get along; I'll have to go to work afore
long."

Tom was not in the least daunted, however; he had always been
accustomed to earn his living, and didn't doubt that he could do it
now.

He had little money, but he had his wits and two strong arms, and he
thought he could keep out of the poor-house. No anxious fears for the
future marred the pleasure which the journey afforded him. With an eye
of interest he regarded the rich and productive country through which
the train was speeding at the rate of twenty-five miles an hour.

There is more than one route from New York to Cincinnati, a fact of
which Tom knew nothing, and it was only by accident that he had
selected that which led through Buffalo. He stopped over a night at
this enterprising city, and at an early hour entered the cars to go on
to the chief city in Ohio. The passengers were nearly all seated. In
fact, every seat was occupied, except that beside Tom, when a stout,
elderly gentleman entered the car, followed by an attractive young girl
of fourteen.

"There don't seem to be any seats, Bessie," he said.

"Here's one, uncle," said the young lady, indicating the seat of which
our hero occupied half.

"Is this seat engaged, young man?" asked the old gentleman.

Tom looked up, and, seeing that a pretty girl was to sit beside him,
answered, with alacrity:

"No, sir."

"Then, Bessie, you may as well sit down here. I am very sorry you must
take this long journey alone. I thought, till the last moment, that Mr.
Armstrong was going."

"Oh! never mind, uncle; I can get along well enough."

"But it don't seem right; I am afraid your father will blame me."

"Perhaps," said Bessie, with a little coquettish glance at Tom, whom
she privately