Sam read one of the circulars rapidly.

This is the way it read:

"PIPKIN'S DINING-ROOMS.
Unsurpassed for the excellence of cookery, and the
cheapness of prices.
Call once,
And you will be sure to come again."

"I'm goin' to come once, and I'll call again if they'll let me," said
Sam to himself.

In about an hour he was called in. The customers had thinned out, but
there were a few at the tables. Sam was directed to sit down at a
table in the back part of the room.

"Now, then," said the waiter, "hurry up, young 'un, and tell us what
you want."

"Roast turkey and cranberry sauce," ordered Sam.

"All out. Try again," was the laconic reply.

"Roast chicken."

"That's all out too."

Sam looked disappointed.

"Oyster stew."

"All out."

"Is everything out?"

"No; there's some roast veal, unless you prefer hash."

"I don't like hash," said Sam, decidedly. "Bring on your veal, and
don't forget the potatoes, and some bread and butter."

"You've got a healthy appetite," said the waiter.

"You bet I have, and I've a right to it. I've earned my dinner, and I
want it."

The articles he had ordered were brought, and he attacked them with
vigor. Then he called for a second course.

"A piece of mince-pie."

"All out," said the waiter.

"Apple-pie."

"That's out."

"I guess your customers all had healthy appetites to-day," said Sam.
"Bring on something or other, and mind you bring enough of it."

A plate of rice-pudding was set before him, and speedily appropriated.
He tried to get a second plate, but his application was unsuccessful.
He was given to understand that he was entitled to only one plate, and
was forced to rise from the table not wholly satisfied.

CHAPTER XXVII.

CONCLUSION.

Sam did not retain his new position long. A week later he was
dismissed. Though no reason was assigned, the proprietor probably
thought it better to engage a boy with a smaller appetite. But Sam was
by no means discouraged. He was more self-reliant than when nearly a
year before he entered the city, and more confident of rubbing along
somehow. If he could not sell papers, he could black boots. If wholly
without capital, he could haunt the neighborhood of the piers, and
seek employment as a baggage-smasher.

For the next two years it will be unnecessary to detail Sam's
experiences. They did not differ materially from those of other
street-boys,--now a day of plenty, now of want, now a stroke of luck,