ch a tractable spirit, that he had been very
much encouraged about him. But if he meant to be wild again,--for it
was plain that the ride was only "the beginning of sorrows,"--it was
well that they should part.

By the afternoon stage our hero proceeded to Gardiner, passing through
several smaller towns, which did not promise a very abundant harvest.
His usual success attended him; for wherever he went, people seemed to
be pleased with him, as Squire Lee had declared they would be. His
pleasant, honest face was a capital recommendation, and his eloquence
seldom failed to achieve the result which eloquence has ever achieved
from Demosthenes down to the present day.

Our limits do not permit us to follow him in all his peregrinations
from town to town, and from house to house; so we pass over the next
fortnight, at the end of which time we find him at Augusta. He had
sold all his books but twenty, and had that day remitted eighty
dollars more to Mr. Bayard. It was Wednesday, and he hoped to sell out
so as to be able to take the next steamer for Boston, which was
advertised to sail on the following day.

He had heard nothing from Tom since their parting, and had given up
all expectation of meeting him again; but that bad penny maxim proved
true once more, for, as he was walking through one of the streets of
Augusta, he had the misfortune to meet him--and this time it was
indeed a misfortune.

"Hallo, Bobby!" shouted the runaway, as familiarly as though nothing
had happened to disturb the harmony of their relations.

"Ah, Tom, I didn't expect to see you again," replied Bobby, not very
much rejoiced to meet his late companion.

"I suppose not; but here I am, as good as new. Have you sold out?"

"No, not quite."

"How many have you left?"

"About twenty; but I thought, Tom, you would have returned to Boston
before this time."

"No;" and Tom did not seem to be in very good spirits.

"Where are you going now?"

"I don't know. I ought to have taken your advice, Bobby."

This was a concession, and our hero began to feel some sympathy for
his companion--as who does not when the erring confess their faults?

"I am sorry you did not."

"I got in with some pretty hard fellows down there to Brunswick,"
continued Tom, rather sheepishly.

"And spent all your money," added Bobby, who could readily understand
the reason why Tom had put on his humility again.

"Not all."

"How much have you left?"

"Not much," rep