Mrs. Stockton,
cordially. "Mr. Stockton will wish to thank you for your attention to
Julia."

Sam thanked her, and went out into the street. He had enjoyed a good
breakfast, and been cordially received by a lady who evidently stood
high socially; and these circumstances contributed to put him in good
spirits.

"I like Boston," he thought. "The people take more notice of a fellow
than they do in New York."

Sam was generalizing upon his very limited experience, and perhaps
might be led hereafter to change his views.

"Julia spoke of Parker's Hotel," he said to himself. "I guess I'll
inquire where it is, and take a look at it."

"Where is Parker's Hotel?" he asked of a boy who overtook him near the
State House.

"It's on School Street. I'm going as far as Tremont Street myself, and
you can come along with me," answered the boy.

"Thank you," said Sam. "I am a stranger in Boston, and don't know my
way."

"Are you going to stop at Parker's?"

"I don't think I shall; I am afraid they will charge too much."

"It's pretty high-priced," said his new acquaintance.

"Do you know what they charge for a room?"

"A dollar and a half and two dollars a day--that is, for the common
rooms."

"That's too much for me."

"Then you've got your meals to pay for besides."

"I shall try to find a boarding-house," said Sam. "Do you know of
any?"

"There's an acquaintance of mine, a clerk, who boards on Harrison
Avenue."

"Where is that?".

"Not far from Washington Street--up near the Boston and Albany
depot."

"Is it near the depot where I came in from New York?"

"How did you come?"

"By the Fall River line."

"Then it isn't far away. I'll give you the number if you want it."

"I wish you would."

"Here's Tremont Street," said the guide, "and that is the Parker
House."

"Thank you," said Sam.

He went into the hotel, and, ascending a short staircase, found
himself in the office. On one side was a writing-room, on the other a
reading-room.

"It looks like a good hotel," thought Sam. "I should like it if I
could afford to stay here."

Sam went into the reading-room, and saw lying on a chair a file of a
New York paper. It seemed in this strange place like a familiar
friend. He was reading the local news, when some one addressed him in
a nasal voice: "I say, yeou, do yeou live round here?"

CHAPTER XXIII.

SAM FINDS A ROOMMATE.

Looking up, Sam's glance rested on a young man, of rustic dress an