to his ragged companion.

"There, my boy, show me the way. I should think you might have done it
for nothing."

"That aint the way we do business in the city, gov'nor."

"Well, go ahead, I'm in a hurry."

"You needn't be, for _this_ is Canal Street," said the boy, edging off
a little.

"Then you've swindled me," said the deacon, wrathfully. "Give me back
that ten cents."

"Not if I know it," said the boy, mockingly. "That aint the way we do
business in the city. I'm goin to buy two five-cent cigars with that
money."

"You said you kept a cigar-store yourself," said the deacon, with
sudden recollection.

"You mustn't believe all you hear, gov'nor," said the boy, laughing
saucily.

"Well now, if you aint a bad boy," said the old man.

"What's the odds as long as you're happy?" said the young Arab,
carelessly.

Here was a good chance for a moral lesson, and the deacon felt that it
was his duty to point out to the young reprobate the error of his
ways.

"My young friend," he said, "how can you expect to be happy when you
lie and cheat? Such men are never happy."

"Aint they though? You bet I'll be happy when I'm smokin' the two
cigars I'm goin to buy."

"Keep the money, but don't buy the cigars," said the deacon, religion
getting the better of his love of money. "Buy yourself some clothes.
You appear to need them."

"Buy clo'es with ten cents!" repeated the boy, humorously.

"At any rate, devote the money to a useful purpose, and I shall not
mind being cheated out of it. If you keep on this way, you'll end in
the gallus."

"That's comin' it rather strong, gov'nor. Hangin's played out in New
York. I guess I'm all right."

"I'm afraid you're all wrong, my boy. You're travellin' to
destruction."

"Let's change the subject," said the street boy. "You're gittin'
personal, and I don't like personal remarks. What'll you bet I can't
tell your name?"

"Bet!" ejaculated the deacon, horrified.

"Yes, gov'nor. I'll bet you a quarter I kin tell your name."

"I never bet. It's wicked," said the old man, with emphasis.

"Well, we won't bet, then," said the boy. "Only, if I tell your name
right, you give me ten cents. If I don't get it right, I'll give back
this dime you gave me. Aint that fair?"

The deacon might have been led to suspect that there was not much
difference between the boy's proposal, and the iniquity of a bet, but
his mind was rather possessed by the thought that here was a good
chance t