dings and handsome residences, may be better imagined than
described. After looking forward to this day for so long, he was almost
overcome at the realisation of his hopes, and took the utmost delight in
everything about him. When the car stopped at the terminus of the line,
he got out and walked up the busiest street in the neighbourhood. He
hardly knew what to do first, but continued walking until he came to the
New York end of the great Brooklyn Bridge. Then he couldn't resist the
desire to walk across the bridge, and he started out upon the journey.
Up the steps he walked, and soon he had climbed as far as the middle
of the magnificent structure. There he stood for some time, looking
out over Governor's Island, nestled like a green egg in a nest of red
buildings, and past Staten Island to the open sea beyond It was all
grander, more beautiful than anything he had ever seen before, and
he felt glad that he had come. Then in another direction he saw the
never-ending succession of buildings, some tall, some low ones, but all
inhabited with swarms of people. "There are three million people in this
great city," he said to himself, "and over them in New Jersey, in those
cities I see, there are a million more, and I am one of four million."
The thought was too much for the boy, and he continued his walk across
the bridge. Once across, he came back again, for Brooklyn was a strange
place to him. In New York City he felt more at home, for he had at least
spent two days within its limits.

Once back in the busy streets, he decided to look about for a cheap
place to stay for the night. It was the middle of the afternoon now, and
he felt that he ought to make some preparation. He knew better than to
apply at the police station for lodging, for he knew they would probably
turn him over to the famous Gerry Society, which would send him back
home before a day had passed, and then where would his ambitions be?

He remembered the place where he had stayed with Uncle Henry, but
he knew that this would be too high-priced for his pocketbook, so he
started up the Bowery, where he expected to find some very cheap places.
He didn't like the looks of the people he met in the street, but
his experiences on the way to New York had taught him not to be too
particular about a little dirt. So when he came to a rickety building
with a sign up, "Beds, ten and fifteen cents," he immediately went up
the dark, filthy stairway, and found himself in a