Although Paul could not help being vexed at having been so cleverly
taken in by his late companion, he felt the better for having eaten the
oysters. Carefully depositing his only remaining coin in his pocket, he
resumed his wanderings. It is said that a hearty meal is a good promoter
of cheerfulness. It was so in Paul's case, and although he had as yet
had no idea where he should find shelter for the night he did not allow
that consideration to trouble him.

So the day passed, and the evening came on. Paul's appetite returned to
him once more. He invested one-half of his money at an old woman's stall
for cakes and apples, and then he ate leisurely while leaning against
the iron railing which encircles the park.

He began to watch with interest the movements of those about him.
Already the lamplighter had started on his accustomed round, and with
ladder in hand was making his way from one lamp-post to another. Paul
quite marvelled at the celerity with which the lamps were lighted, never
before having witnessed the use of gas. He was so much interested in the
process that he sauntered along behind the lamplighter for some time. At
length his eye fell upon a group common enough in our cities, but new to
him.

An Italian, short and dark-featured, with a velvet cap, was grinding out
music from a hand-organ, while a woman with a complexion equally
dark, and black sorrowful-looking eyes, accompanied her husband on the
tambourine. They were playing a lively tune as Paul came up, but quickly
glided into "Home, Sweet Home."

Paul listened with pleased, yet sad interest, for him "home" was only a
sad remembrance.