which made him feel rich as a millionnaire, now a season of bad
fortune. Day by day, and week by week, his recollections of his
country home became more vague, and he could hardly realize that he
had ever lived anywhere else than in the streets of New York. It was
at this time that the unexpected encounter with Deacon Hopkins brought
back the memories of his early life, and led him to contrast them
curiously with his present experiences. There did not seem much for
Sam to be proud of, ragged vagabond as he was; but for all that he
looked down upon his former self with ineffable contempt.

"What a greenhorn I was when I first came to the city!" he reflected.
"How easy I was took in! I didn't know nothin' about life then. How
sick I was when I smoked my first cigar! Now, I can smoke half a
dozen, one after the other, only I can't raise the stamps to buy 'em.
How I fooled the deacon, though!" and Sam laughed in hearty enjoyment
of the joke. "I wonder what'll he say of me when he gets back."

Sam plunged his hands deep down into his pockets. There was nothing to
hinder, for, as usual, they were empty. He had spent the small amount
obtained from the deacon, and he was just even with the world. He had
neither debts nor assets. He had only daily recurring wants, and these
he was not always able to supply.

It was in the afternoon of the day made memorable by his interview
with the deacon that another adventure befell Sam. As it exhibits him
in a more favorable light than usual, I am glad to chronicle it.

He was lounging about, waiting for something to turn up, when he felt
a little hand slipped into his, and heard a small voice pleading,
"Take me home. I'm lost."

Sam looked down in surprise to find his hand clasped by a little boy,
apparently about four years of age. What attracted him to Sam is
uncertain. Possibly his face seemed familiar to the little boy.

"What's your name, Johnny?" asked Sam, gently.

"My name aint Johnny; it's Bertie," said the little boy.

"What's your other name?"

"Dalton."

"Bertie Dalton?"

"Yes. I want to go home."

"So you shall," said Sam, good-naturedly, "if you'll tell me where you
live."

"Don't you know?" asked Bertie.

"No."

"I thought you did," said Bertie, disappointed. "I want to go home to
mamma."

Sam was puzzled.

"How did you come to be lost?" he asked.

"I went out with Marie--that's the nurse--and when she was talking
with another nurse I went to play. T