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 large room
at the top which served as the "hotel" office. There were rows of