after the pickpocket had been removed from the car, his intended victim turned in his seat, and addressed julius.

“come and sit by me,” he said; “i want to speak with you.”

julius readily accepted the invitation.

“my boy,” said the stout gentleman, “you have done me a great service.”

“i am glad of it,” said julius.

“you must know that this watch and chain, which but for you i should have lost, were bought for me, in switzerland, by a son who has since died. they are valuable in themselves, but they are five times as valuable to me because they were a last gift from him.”

“i am glad ned didn’t get off with ’em,” said julius.

“you seem to know this man,” said the other, with some curiosity.

“oh, yes, sir, i know him like a brick.”

the common expression is “like a book”; but that would hardly have implied any close knowledge on the part of julius, for he knew next to nothing of books. probably the phrase he did use was suggested by the other.

“is he a professional pickpocket?”

“oh, yes, that’s the way he makes a livin’.”

“then how do you come to know him?”

“oh, he used to come and see jack.”

“who’s jack?”

“jack morgan—the man i used to live with.”

“jack didn’t have very respectable friends, then, i should judge.”

“ned and he was pretty thick. they used to do business together.”

“was jack a pickpocket, also?”

“he didn’t do much that way; he was too clumsy. he broke into houses.”

“what! was he a burglar?”

“yes.”

“do you mean to say that you lived with a burglar?” asked the stout gentleman, in surprise.

“yes,” said julius, unconcerned.

“and did you help him, too?” demanded the other, suspiciously.

“no, i didn’t,” said julius. “i didn’t like the business. besides, i didn’t want to be sent over to the island. i blacked boots, and such things.”

“that is a much better way of getting a living,” said his companion, approvingly.

“so i think,” said julius; “but it ain’t quite so easy.”

“i think you are mistaken. an honest life is the easiest in the end. where is jack now?”

“oh, he’s in the tombs. he was took up for burglary of a house in madison avenue. i guess he’ll be sent up for five or ten years.”

“that won’t be very easy, or pleasant.”

“no,” said julius. “i’m glad i ain’t in jack’s shoes.”

“i hope, my lad, you are in no danger of following the example of your evil associates.”

“no,” said julius. “i’m goin’ to be respectable.”

“an excellent determination. how do you happen to be traveling?”

“oh, i’m goin’ out west.”

“what made you think of that?”

“mr. o’connor—he’s the superintendent of the newsboys’ lodging house—was goin’ to take some boys out, and get ’em places; and he offered to take me.”

“are all these boys i see in the car going out too?”

“yes, sir, all of ’em, and there’s some more in the car behind.”

“where in the west do you expect to go?”

“i don’t know,” said julius. “is the west a big place?”

“i should say it was,” said the other, with a laugh. “it’s a very large place.”

“were you ever there?” asked julius, desiring to hear something about his place of destination.

“i live there—in wisconsin. did you ever hear of wisconsin?”

julius shook his head.

“i don’t know much about any places, except new york and jersey,” he added.

“i live in the city of milwaukee, in wisconsin. it is quite a flourishing city.”

“is it as big as new york?”

“oh, no; we can’t show any cities in the west as big as new york. i doubt if we ever shall, though we’ve some large cities, that are growing fast. do you think you are likely to come to milwaukee?”

“i don’t know,” said julius. “mr. o’connor could tell you.”

“where is he?”

“in the other car. will i speak to him?”

“not yet. i’ve got something more to say to you. i am under an obligation to you.”

“what’s that?” asked julius, puzzled.

“i mean that you have done me a favor.”

“that’s all right,” said julius. “i’m glad of it.”

“and in doing so, you have probably made an enemy,” added the other.

“you mean ned sanders?”

“yes; i am afraid, if he gets a chance, he will do you an injury.”

“i’ll be out of his way.”

“he might some time see you.”

“if he does, and i’m grown up, i won’t be afraid of him.”

“you seem to be a brave young man.”

“i ain’t a coward,” said julius, proudly.

“and yet there are some things i hope you will be afraid of.”

“what are them?” asked julius, somewhat puzzled.

“i hope you will be afraid to lie and steal, and do wrong generally.”

“i shan’t steal,” said julius; “i don’t know about lyin’, most boys lie sometimes.”

“i hope you will be one of the boys that do not lie at all.”

“maybe so,” said julius, dubiously. “a feller can’t always be good.”

“no, i suppose not. but there is no occasion for lying.”

“i’ll try not to, but i ain’t an angel.”

“angels are scare, as far as my observation goes,” said his companion, smiling, “and you appear to have too much human nature about you to be altogether angelic. but there’s one thing you can do. you can try to do right.”

“i mean to,” said julius, promptly. “i want to grow up respectable.”

“if you want to, you probably will. you’ll have a better chance at the west than you would in new york.”

“if i stayed there, i’d be a bootblack all my life,” said julius. “there ain’t no chance for a boy like me to rise. i wouldn’t want to be a bootblack,” he added reflectively, “when i got to be old and gray-headed.”

“no, it wouldn’t be an agreeable business for an old man to follow. but i’ve got off the track.”

“off the track!” repeated julius, looking out of the window.

“oh, i didn’t mean that. the cars are all right. but i meant to say, that i had got away from what i meant to say. i think i owe you something for your saving me from losing my watch.”

“oh, that’s nothing,” said julius.

“to me it is a great deal, and i want to show my sense of the favor. is there anything in particular you would like?”

“i don’t know,” said julius, thoughtfully. “i might like a jack-knife.”

“that isn’t enough. as i said, i have particular reason to value my watch and chain. did you ever have a watch yourself?”

“i never got so far along. i couldn’t save enough on shines for that.”

“well, it so happens that, in new york, i took a small silver watch and chain in the way of business from a traveler who owed me money. here it is.”

he drew from his pocket a neat, but inexpensive silver watch, with a chain of the same metal.

“what do you think of it?” he said.

“it’s tiptop,” said julius admiringly.

“i am glad you like it, for i am going to give it to you.”

“goin’ to give me a watch and chain!” repeated julius, in amazement.

“yes. would you like it?”

“it’ll make me feel like a swell,” said julius, elated. “ain’t it a beauty, teddy?” he continued, turning in his seat, and displaying it to his comrade.

“it ain’t yours, is it?” asked teddy, not without a slight feeling of envy.

“yes, it is. this gentleman says so.”

and julius proudly put the watch in his vest pocket, and attached the chain to one of the button-holes. the donor looked on with a benevolent smile, glad that he had been able to make so acceptable a gift to the boy who had done him such a service.

“now,” he said, smiling, “it will be your turn to look out for pickpockets. they may try to carry off your watch, as they did mine.”

“i d like to see ’em do it,” said julius, confidently. “it’ll take a smart pickpocket to hook my watch.”

“well, my young friend,” said the other, “as the time may come when i can do you a service, i will give you my card.”

“i can’t read writin’,” admitted julius, reluctantly, as he took the card, which was printed in script.

“my name is john taylor, of milwaukee. keep the card, and you will soon be able to read it.”

here the paper boy passed through the car, and mr. taylor, purchasing a copy of harper’s weekly, was soon immersed in its contents. finding that the interview was ended, julius returned to his former seat, and teddy and he spent some time in admiring it.