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+**The Project Gutenberg Etext of Phil, the Fiddler, by Alger***
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+Phil, the Fiddler
+
+by Horatio Alger, Jr.
+
+September, 1996  [Etext #671]
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+
+PHIL, THE FIDDLER
+
+BY HORATIO ALGER, JR.
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+Among the most interesting and picturesque classes of street
+children in New York are the young Italian musicians, who wander
+about our streets with harps, violins, or tambourines, playing
+wherever they can secure an audience.  They become Americanized
+less easily than children of other nationalities, and both in
+dress and outward appearance retain their foreign look, while
+few, even after several years' residence, acquire even a passable
+knowledge of the English language.
+
+In undertaking, therefore, to describe this phase of street life,
+I found, at the outset, unusual difficulty on account of my
+inadequate information.  But I was fortunate enough to make the
+acquaintance of two prominent Italian gentlemen, long resident in
+New York--Mr. A. E. Cerqua, superintendent of the Italian school
+at the Five Points, and through his introduction, of Mr. G. F.
+Secchi de Casale, editor of the well-known Eco d'Italia--from
+whom I obtained full and trustworthy information.  A series of
+articles contributed by Mr. De Casale to his paper, on the
+Italian street children, in whom he has long felt a patriotic 
+and sympathetic interest, I have found of great service, and I
+freely acknowledge that, but for the information thus acquired, I
+should have been unable to write the present volume.
+
+My readers will learn with surprise, probably, of the hard life
+led by these children, and the inhuman treatment which they
+receive from the speculators who buy them from their parents in
+Italy.  It is not without reason that Mr. De Casale speaks of
+them as the "White Slaves" of New York.  I may add, in passing,
+that they are quite distinct from the Italian bootblacks and
+newsboys who are to be found in Chatham Street and the vicinity
+of the City Hall Park.  These last are the children of resident
+Italians of the poorer class, and are much better off than the
+musicians.  It is from their ranks that the Italian school,
+before referred to, draws its pupils.
+
+If the story of "Phil the Fiddler," in revealing for the first
+time to the American public the hardships and ill treatment of
+these wandering musicians shall excite an active sympathy in
+their behalf, the author will feel abundantly repaid for his
+labors.
+
+ NEW YORK, APRIL 2, 1872.
+
+CONTENTS 
+
+CHAPTER                                
+I.      PHIL THE FIDDLER 
+II.     PHIL AND HIS PROTECTOR
+III.    GIACOMO
+IV.     AN INVITATION TO SUPPER
+V.      ON THE FERRY BOAT
+VI.     THE BARROOM
+VII.    THE HOME OF THE BOYS
+VIII.   A COLD DAY
+IX.     PIETRO THE SPY
+X.      FRENCH'S HOTEL
+XI.     THE BOYS RECEPTION
+XII.    GIACOMO'S PRESENTIMENTS
+XIII.   PHIL FINDS A CAPITALIST
+XIV.    THE TAMBOURINE GIRL
+XV.     PHIL'S NEW PLANS
+XVI.    THE FASHIONABLE PARTY
+XVII.   THE PADRONE IS ANXIOUS  
+XVIII.  PHIL ELUDES HIS PURSUER
+XIX.    PIETRO'S PURSUIT
+XX.     PIETRO'S DISAPPOINTMENT
+XXI.    THE SIEGE
+XXII.   THE SIEGE IS RAISED
+XXIII.  A PITCHED BATTLE
+XXIV.   THE DEATH OF GIACOMO
+XXV.    PHIL FINDS A FRIEND
+XXVI.   CONCLUSION
+
+
+PHIL THE FIDDLER
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+PHIL THE FIDDLER
+
+"Viva Garibaldi!" sang a young Italian boy in an uptown street,
+accompanying himself on a violin which, from its battered
+appearance, seemed to have met with hard usage.
+
+As the young singer is to be the hero of my story, I will pause
+to describe him.  He was twelve years old, but small of his age. 
+His complexion was a brilliant olive, with the dark eyes peculiar
+to his race, and his hair black.  In spite of the dirt, his face
+was strikingly handsome, especially when lighted up by a smile,
+as was often the case, for in spite of the hardships of his lot,
+and these were neither few nor light, Filippo was naturally merry
+and light-hearted.
+
+He wore a velveteen jacket, and pantaloons which atoned, by their
+extra length, for the holes resulting from hard usage and
+antiquity.  His shoes, which appeared to be wholly unacquainted
+with blacking, were, like his pantaloons, two or three sizes too
+large for him, making it necessary for him to shuffle along
+ungracefully.
+
+It was now ten o'clock in the morning.  Two hours had elapsed
+since Filippo, or Phil, as I shall call him, for the benefit of
+my readers unfamiliar with Italian names, had left the miserable
+home in Crosby Street, where he and forty other boys lived in
+charge of a middle-aged Italian, known as the padrone.  Of this
+person, and the relations between him and the boys, I shall
+hereafter speak.  At present I propose to accompany Phil.
+
+Though he had wandered about, singing and playing, for two hours,
+Phil had not yet received a penny.  This made him somewhat
+uneasy, for he knew that at night he must carry home a
+satisfactory sum to the padrone, or he would be brutally beaten;
+and poor Phil knew from sad experience that this hard taskmaster
+had no mercy in such cases.
+
+The block in which he stood was adjacent to Fifth Avenue, and was
+lined on either side with brown-stone houses.  It was quiet, and
+but few passed through it during the busy hours of the day.  But
+Phil's hope was that some money might be thrown him from a window
+of some of the fine houses before which he played, but he seemed
+likely to be disappointed, for he played ten minutes without
+apparently attracting any attention.  He was about to change his
+position, when the basement door of one of the houses opened, and
+a servant came out, bareheaded, and approached him.  Phil
+regarded her with distrust, for he was often ordered away as a
+nuisance.  He stopped playing, and, hugging his violin closely,
+regarded her watchfully.
+
+"You're to come in," said the girl abruptly.
+
+"Che cosa volete?"[1] said Phil, suspiciously.
+
+[1] "What do you want?"
+
+
+"I don't understand your Italian rubbish," said the girl. 
+"You're to come into the house."
+
+In general, boys of Phil's class are slow in learning English. 
+After months, and even years sometimes, their knowledge is
+limited to a few words or phrases.  On the other hand, they pick
+up French readily, and as many of them, en route for America,
+spend some weeks, or months, in the French metropolis, it is
+common to find them able to speak the language somewhat.  Phil,
+however, was an exception, and could manage to speak English a
+little, though not as well as he could understand it.
+
+"What for I go?" he asked, a little distrustfully.
+
+"My young master wants to hear you play on your fiddle," said the
+servant.  "He's sick, and can't come out."
+
+"All right!"  said Phil, using one of the first English phrases
+he had caught.  "I will go."
+
+"Come along, then."
+
+Phil followed his guide into the basement, thence up two flight
+of stairs, and along a handsome hall into a chamber.  The little
+fiddler, who had never before been invited into a fine house,
+looked with admiration at the handsome furniture, and especially
+at the pictures upon the wall, for, like most of his nation, he
+had a love for whatever was beautiful, whether in nature or art.
+
+The chamber had two occupants.  One, a boy of twelve years, was
+lying in a bed, propped up by pillows.  His thin, pale face spoke
+of long sickness, and contrasted vividly with the brilliant brown
+face of the little Italian boy, who seemed the perfect picture of
+health.  Sitting beside the bed was a lady of middle age and
+pleasant expression.  It was easy to see by the resemblance that
+she was the mother of the sick boy.
+
+Phil looked from one to the other, uncertain what was required of
+him.
+
+"Can you speak English?"  asked Mrs. Leigh.
+
+"Si, signora, a little," answered our hero.
+
+"My son is sick, and would like to hear you play a little."
+
+"And sing, too," added the sick boy, from the bed.
+
+Phil struck up the song he had been singing in the street, a song
+well known to all who have stopped to listen to the boys of his
+class, with the refrain, "Viva Garibaldi."  His voice was clear
+and melodious, and in spite of the poor quality of his
+instrument, he sang with so much feeling that the effect was
+agreeable.
+
+The sick boy listened with evident pleasure, for he, too, had a
+taste for music.
+
+"I wish I could understand Italian," he said, "I think it must be
+a good song."
+
+"Perhaps he can sing some English song," suggested Mrs. Leigh.
+
+"Can you sing in English?" she asked.
+
+Phil hesitated a moment, and then broke into the common street
+ditty, "Shoe fly, don't bouder me," giving a quaint sound to the
+words by his Italian accent.
+
+"Do you know any more?" asked Henry Leigh, when our hero had
+finished.
+
+"Not English," said Phil, shaking his head.
+
+"You ought to learn more."
+
+"I can play more," said Phil, "but I know not the words."
+
+"Then play some tunes."
+
+Thereupon the little Italian struck up "Yankee Doodle," which he
+played with spirit and evident enjoyment.
+
+"Do you know the name of that?" asked Henry.
+
+Phil shook his head.
+
+"It is 'Yankee Doodle.' "
+
+Phil tried to pronounce it, but the words in his mouth had a
+droll sound, and made them laugh.
+
+"How old are you?" asked Henry.
+
+"Twelve years."
+
+"Then you are quite as old as I am."
+
+"I wish you were as well and strong as he seems to be," said Mrs.
+Leigh, sighing, as she looked at Henry's pale face. 
+
+That was little likely to be.  Always a delicate child, Henry had
+a year previous contracted a cold, which had attacked his lungs,
+and had gradually increased until there seemed little doubt that
+in the long struggle with disease nature must succumb, and early
+death ensue.
+
+"How long have you been in this country?"
+
+"Un anno."
+
+"How long is that?"
+
+"A year," said Henry.  "I know that, because 'annus' means a year
+in Latin."
+
+"Si, signor, a year," said Phil.
+
+"And where do you come from?"
+
+"Da Napoli."
+
+"That means from Naples, I suppose."
+
+"Si, signor."
+
+Most of the little Italian musicians to be found in our streets
+are brought from Calabria, the southern portion of Italy, where
+they are purchased from their parents, for a fixed sum, or rate
+of annual payment.  But it is usual for them when questioned, to
+say that they come from Naples, that being the principal city in
+that portion of Italy, or indeed in the entire kingdom.
+
+"Who do you live with," continued Henry.
+
+"With the padrone."
+
+"And who is the padrone?"
+
+"He take care of me--he bring me from Italy."
+
+"Is he kind to you?"
+
+Phil shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"He beat me sometimes," he answered.
+
+"Beats you?  What for?"
+
+"If I bring little money."
+
+"Does he beat you hard?"
+
+"Si, signor, with a stick."
+
+"He must be a bad man," said Henry, indignantly.
+
+"How much money must you carry home?"
+
+"Two dollars."
+
+"But it isn't your fault, if people will not give you money."
+
+"Non importa.  He beat me."
+
+"He ought to be beaten himself."
+
+Phil shrugged his shoulders.  Like most boys of his class, to him
+the padrone seemed all-powerful.  The idea that his oppressive
+taskmaster should be punished for his cruelty had never dawned
+upon him.  Knowing nothing of any law that would protect him, he
+submitted to it as a necessity, from which there was no escape
+except by running away.  He had not come to that yet, but some of
+his companions had done so, and he might some day.
+
+After this conversation he played another tune.  Mrs. Leigh drew
+out her purse, and gave him fifty cents.  Phil took his fiddle
+under his arm, and, following the servant, who now reappeared,
+emerged into the street, and moved onward.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+PHIL AND HIS PROTECTOR
+
+To a certain extent Phil was his own master; that is, he was at
+liberty to wander where he liked, provided he did not neglect his
+business, and returned to the lodging-house at night with the
+required sum of money.  But woe to him if he were caught holding
+back any of the money for his own use.  In that case, he would be
+beaten, and sent to bed without his supper, while the padrone,
+according to the terms of his contract with the distant parent
+would withhold from the amount due the latter ten times the sum
+kept by the boy.  In the middle of the day he was allowed to
+spend three cents for bread, which was the only dinner allowed
+him.  Of course, the boys were tempted to regale themselves more
+luxuriously, but they incurred a great risk in doing so. 
+Sometimes the padrone followed them secretly, or employed others
+to do so, and so was able to detect them.  Besides, they
+traveled, in general, by twos and threes, and the system of
+espionage was encouraged by the padrone.  So mutual distrust was
+inspired, and the fear of being reported made the boys honest.
+
+Phil left the house of Mr. Leigh in good spirits.  Though he had
+earned nothing before, the fifty cents he had just received made
+a good beginning, and inspired in him the hope of getting
+together enough to save him a beating, for one night at least.
+
+He walked down toward Sixth Avenue, and turning the corner walked
+down town.  At length he paused in front of a tobacconist's shop,
+and began to play.  But he had chosen an unfortunate time and
+place.  The tobacconist had just discovered a deficiency in his
+money account, which he suspected to be occasioned by the
+dishonesty of his assistant.  In addition to this he had risen
+with a headache, so that he was in a decidedly bad humor.  Music
+had no charms for him at that moment, and he no sooner heard the
+first strains of Phil's violin than he rushed from the shop
+bareheaded, and dashed impetuously at the young fiddler.
+
+"Get away from my shop, you little vagabond!" he cried.  "If I
+had my way, you should all be sent out of the country."
+
+Phil was quick to take a hint.  He saw the menace in the
+shopkeeper's eyes, and, stopping abruptly, ran farther down the
+street, hugging his fiddle, which he was afraid the angry
+tobacconist might seize and break.  This, to him, would be an
+irreparable misfortune and subject him to a severe punishment,
+though the fault would not be his.
+
+Next he strolled into a side street, and began to play in front
+of some dwelling-houses.  Two or three young children, who had
+been playing in the street, gathered about him, and one of them
+gave him a penny.  They were clamorous for another tune, but Phil
+could not afford to work for nothing, and, seeing no prospects of
+additional pay, took his violin, and walked away, much to the
+regret of his young auditors, who, though not rich, were
+appreciative.  They followed him to the end of the block, hoping
+that he would play again, but they were disappointed.
+
+Phil played two or three times more, managing to obtain in all
+twenty-five cents additional.  He reached the corner of
+Thirteenth Street just as the large public school, known as the
+Thirteenth Street School, was dismissed for its noon
+intermission.
+
+"Give us a tune, Johnny," cried Edward Eustis, one of the oldest
+boys.
+
+"Yes, a tune," joined in several others.
+
+This was an invitation to which Phil was always willing to
+respond.  Besides, he knew from experience that boys were more
+generous, in proportion to their means, than those of larger
+growth, and he hoped to get enough from the crowd around him to
+increase his store to a dollar.
+
+The boys gathered around the little minstrel, who struck up an
+Italian tune, but without the words.
+
+"Sing, sing!" cried the boys.
+
+Phil began to sing.  His clear, fresh voice produced a favorable
+impression upon the boys.
+
+"He's a bully singer," said one.  "I can't sing much better
+myself."
+
+"You sing!  Your singing would be enough to scare a dozen tom
+cats."
+
+"Then we should be well matched.  Look here, Johnny, can't you
+sing something in English?"
+
+Phil, in response to this request, played and sang "Shoo Fly!" 
+which suiting the boys' taste, he was called upon to repeat.
+
+The song being finished, Edward Eustis took off his cap, and went
+around the circle.
+
+"Now, boys, you have a chance to show your liberality," he said. 
+"I'll start the collection with five cents."
+
+"That's ahead of me," said James Marcus.  "Justice to a large and
+expensive family will prevent me contributing anything more than
+two cents."
+
+"The smallest favors thankfully received," said Edward.
+
+"Then take that, and be thankful," said Tom Lane, dropping in a
+penny.
+
+"I haven't got any money," said Frank Gaylord, "but here's an
+apple;" and he dropped a large red apple into the cap.
+
+Phil; watching with interest the various contributions, was best
+pleased with the last.  The money he must carry to the padrone. 
+The apple he might keep for himself, and it would vary agreeably
+his usual meager fare.
+
+"The biggest contribution yet," said Edward.
+
+"Here, Sprague, you are liberal.  What'll you give?"
+
+"My note at ninety days."
+
+"You might fail before it comes due."
+
+"Then take three cents.  'Tis all I have; 'I can no more, though
+poor the offering be.' "
+
+"Oh, don't quote Shakespeare."
+
+"It isn't Shakespeare; it's Milton."
+
+"Just as much one as the other."
+
+"Here, Johnny," said Edward, after going the rounds, "hold your
+hands, and I'll pour out the money.  You can retire from business
+now on a fortune."
+
+Phil was accustomed to be addressed as Johnny, that being the
+generic name for boy in New York.  He deposited the money in his
+pocket, and, taking his fiddle, played once more in
+acknowledgment of the donation.  The boys now dispersed, leaving
+Phil to go on his way.  He took out the apple with the intention
+of eating it, when a rude boy snatched it from his hand.
+
+"Give it back," said Phil, angrily.
+
+"Don't you wish you may get it?" said the other, holding it out
+of his reach.
+
+The young musician had little chance of redress.  his antagonist
+was a head taller than himself, and, besides, he would not have
+dared lay down his fiddle to fight, lest it might be broken.
+
+"Give it to me," he said, stamping his foot.
+
+"I mean to eat it myself," said the other, coolly.  "It's too
+good for the likes of you."
+
+"You're a thief."
+
+"Don't you call me names, you little Italian ragamuffin, or I'll
+hit you," said the other, menacingly.   
+
+"It is my apple."
+
+"I'm going to eat it."
+
+But the speaker was mistaken.  As he held the apple above his
+head, it was suddenly snatched from him.  He looked around
+angrily, and confronted Edward Eustis, who, seeing Phil's trouble
+from a little distance, had at once come to his rescue.
+
+"What did you do that for?" demanded the thief.
+
+"What did you take the boy's apple for?"
+
+"Because I felt like it."
+
+"Then I took it from you for the same reason."
+
+"Do you want to fight?" blustered the rowdy.
+
+"Not particularly."
+
+"Then hand me back that apple," returned the other.
+
+"Thank you; I shall only hand it to the rightful owner--that
+little Italian boy.  Are you not ashamed to rob him?"
+
+"Do you want to get hit?"
+
+"I wouldn't advise you to do it."
+
+The rowdy looked at the boy who confronted him.  Edward was
+slightly smaller, but there was a determined look in his eye
+which the bully, who, like those of his class generally, was a
+coward at heart, did not like.  He mentally decided that it would
+be safer not to provoke him.
+
+"Come here, Johnny, and take your apple," said Edward.
+
+Phil advanced, and received back his property with satisfaction.
+
+"You'd better eat it now.  I'll see that he doesn't disturb you."
+
+Phil followed the advice of his new friend promptly.  He had
+eaten nothing since seven o'clock, and then only a piece of dry
+bread and cheese, and the apple, a rare luxury, he did not fail
+to relish.  His would-be robber scowled at him meanwhile, for he
+had promised himself the pleasure of dispatching the fruit. 
+Edward stood by till the apple was eaten, and then turned away. 
+The rowdy made a movement as if to follow Phil, but Edward
+quickly detected him, and came back.
+
+"Don't you dare touch him," he said, significantly, "or you'll
+have to settle accounts with me.  Do you see that policeman?  I
+am going to ask him to have an eye on you.  You'd better look out
+for yourself."
+
+The other turned at the caution, and seeing the approach of one
+of the Metropolitan police quickly vanished.  He had a wholesome
+fear of these guardians of the public peace, and did not care to
+court their attention.
+
+Edward turned away, but in a moment felt a hand tugging at his
+coat.  Looking around, he saw that it was Phil.
+
+"Grazia, signore," said Phil, gratefully.
+
+"I suppose that means 'Thank you'?"
+
+Phil nodded.
+
+"All right, Johnny!  I am glad I was by to save you from that
+bully."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+GIACOMO
+
+After eating the apple Phil decided to buy his frugal dinner. 
+He, therefore, went into a baker's shop, and bought two penny
+rolls and a piece of cheese.  It was not a very luxurious repast,
+but with the apple it was better than usual.  A few steps from
+the shop door he met another Italian boy, who was bound to the
+same padrone.
+
+"How much money have you, Giacomo?" asked Phil, speaking, of
+course, in his native tongue.
+
+"Forty cents.  How much have you?"
+
+"A dollar and twenty cents."
+
+"You are very lucky, Filippo."
+
+"A rich signora gave me fifty cents for playing to her sick boy. 
+Then I sang for some schoolboys, and they gave me some money."
+
+"I am afraid the padrone will beat me to-night."
+
+"He has not beat me for a week."
+
+"Have you had dinner, Filippo?"
+
+"Yes, I had some bread and cheese, and an apple."
+
+"Did you buy the apple?"
+
+"No; one of the schoolboys gave it to me.  It was very good,"
+said Phil, in a tone of enjoyment.  "I had not eaten one for a
+long time."
+
+"Nor I.  Do you remember, Filippo, the oranges we had in Italy?"
+
+"I remember them well."
+
+"I was happy then," said Giacomo, sighing.  "There was no padrone
+to beat me, and I could run about and play.  Now I have to sing
+and play all day.  I am so tired sometimes,--so tired, Filippo."
+
+"You are not so strong as I, Giacomo," said Phil, looking with
+some complacency at his own stout limbs.
+
+"Don't you get tired, Filippo?"
+
+"Yes, often; but I don't care so much for that.  But I don't like
+the winter."
+
+"I thought I should die with cold sometimes last winter," said
+Giacomo, shuddering.  "Do you ever expect to go back to Italy,
+Filippo?"
+
+"Sometime."
+
+"I wish I could go now.  I should like to see my dear mother and
+my sisters."
+
+"And your father?"
+
+"I don't want to see him," said Giacomo, bitterly.  "He sold me
+to the padrone.  My mother wept bitterly when I went away, but my
+father only thought of the money."
+
+Filippo and Giacomo were from the same town in Calabria.  They
+were the sons of Italian peasants who had been unable to resist
+the offers of the padrone, and for less than a hundred dollars
+each had sold his son into the cruelest slavery.  The boys were
+torn from their native hills, from their families, and in a
+foreign land were doomed to walk the streets from fourteen to
+sixteen hours in every twenty-four, gathering money from which
+they received small benefit.  Many times, as they trudged through
+the streets, weary and hungry, sometimes cold, they thought with
+homesick sadness of the sunny fields in which their earliest
+years had been passed, but the hard realities of the life they
+were now leading soon demanded their attention.
+
+Naturally light-hearted, Filippo, or Phil, bore his hard lot more
+cheerfully than some of his comrades.  But Giacomo was more
+delicate, and less able to bear want and fatigue.  His livelier
+comrade cheered him up, and Giacomo always felt better after
+talking with Phil.
+
+As the two boys were walking together, a heavy hand was laid on
+the shoulder of each, and a harsh voice said:  "Is this the way
+you waste your time, little rascals?"
+
+Both boys started, and looking up, recognized the padrone.  He
+was a short man, very dark with fierce black eyes and a sinister
+countenance.  It was his habit to walk about the streets from
+time to time, and keep a watch, unobserved, upon his young
+apprentices, if they may be so called.  If he found them
+loitering about, or neglecting their work, they were liable to
+receive a sharp reminder.
+
+The boys were both startled at his sudden appearance, but after
+the first start, Phil, who was naturally courageous, recovered
+his self-possession.  Not so with Giacomo, who was the more
+afraid because he knew he had gained but little money thus far.
+
+"We are not wasting our time, padrone," said Phil, looking up
+fearlessly.
+
+"We will see about that.  How long have you been together?"
+
+"Only five minutes."
+
+"How much money have you, Filippo?"
+
+"A dollar and twenty cents."
+
+"Good; you have done well.  And how is it with you, Giacomo?"
+
+"I have forty cents."
+
+"Then you have been idle," said the padrone, frowning.
+
+"No, signore," said the boy, trembling.  "I have played, but they
+did not give me much money."
+
+"It is not his fault," said Phil, coming boldly to the defense of
+his friend.
+
+"Attend to your own affairs, little scrape-grace," said the
+padrone, roughly.  "He might have got as much as you."
+
+"No, padrone; I was lucky.  A kind lady gave me fifty cents."
+
+"That is not my affair.  I don't care where you get the money. 
+But if you don't bring home all I expect, you shall feel the
+stick."
+
+These last words were addressed to Giacomo, who understood their
+import only too well.  In the miserable lodging where he herded
+with thirty or forty others scarcely a night passed without the
+brutal punishment of one or more unfortunate boys, who had been
+unsuccessful in bringing home enough to satisfy the rapacity of
+the padrone.  But of this an account will hereafter be given.
+
+"Now, go to work, both of you," said the padrone, harshly.
+
+The two boys separated.  Giacomo went uptown, while Phil kept on
+his way toward the Astor House.  The padrone made his way to the
+nearest liquor shop, where he invested a portion of the money
+wrung from the hard earnings of his young apprentices.
+
+Toward the close of the afternoon Phil found himself in front of
+the Astor House.  He had played several times, but was not
+fortunate in finding liberal auditors.  He had secured but ten
+cents during this time, and it seemed doubtful whether he would
+reach the sum he wanted.  He crossed over to the City Hall Park,
+and, feeling tired, sat down on one of the benches.  Two
+bootblacks were already seated upon it.
+
+"Play us a tune, Johnny," said one.
+
+"Will you give me pennies?" asked Phil doubtfully, for he did
+not care, with such a severe taskmaster, to work for nothing.
+
+"Yes, we'll give you pennies."
+
+Upon this, Phil struck up a tune.
+
+"Where's your monkey?" asked one of the boys.
+
+"I have no monkey."
+
+"If you want a monkey, here's one for you," said Tim Rafferty,
+putting his hand on his companion's shoulder.
+
+"He's too big," said Phil, laughing.
+
+"Hould yer gab, Tim Rafferty," said the other.  "It's you that'll
+make a better monkey nor I.  Say, Johnny, do you pay your monkeys
+well?"
+
+"Give me my pennies," said Phil, with an eye to business.
+
+"Play another tune, then."
+
+Phil obeyed directions.  When he had finished, a contribution was
+taken up, but it only amounted to seven cents.  However,
+considering the character of the audience, this was as much as
+could be expected.
+
+"How much have you made to-day, Johnny?" asked Tim.
+
+"A dollar," said Phil. 
+
+"A dollar!  That's more nor I have made.  I tell you what, boys,
+I think I'll buy a fiddle myself.  I'll make more money that way
+than blackin' boots."
+
+"A great fiddler you'd make, Tim Rafferty."
+
+"Can't I play, then?  Lend me your fiddle, Johnny, till I try it
+a little."
+
+Phil shook his head.
+
+"Give it to me now; I won't be hurtin' it."
+
+"You'll break it."
+
+"Then I'll pay for it."
+
+"It isn't mine."
+
+"Whose is it, then?"
+
+"The padrone's."
+
+"And who's the padrone?"
+
+"The man I live with.  If the fiddle is broken, he will beat me."
+
+"Then he's an ould haythen, and you may tell him so, with Tim
+Rafferty's compliments.  But I won't hurt it."
+
+Phil, however, feared to trust the violin in unskillful hands. 
+He knew the penalty if any harm befell it, and he had no mind to
+run the risk.  So he rose from the seat, and withdrew to a little
+distance, Tim Rafferty following, for, though he cared little at
+first, he now felt determined to try the fiddle.
+
+"If you don't give it to me I'll put a head on you," he said.
+
+"You shall not have it," said Phil, firmly, for he, too, could be
+determined.
+
+"The little chap's showing fight," said Tim's companion.  "Look
+out, Tim; he'll mash you."
+
+"I can fight him wid one hand," said Tim.
+
+He advanced upon our young hero, who, being much smaller, would
+probably have been compelled to yield to superior force but for
+an interference entirely unexpected by Tim.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+AN INVITATION TO SUPPER
+
+Tim had raised his fist to strike the young fiddler, when he was
+suddenly pushed aside with considerable force, and came near
+measuring his length on the ground.
+
+"Who did that?" he cried, angrily, recovering his equilibrium.
+
+"I did it," said a calm voice.
+
+Tim recognized in the speaker Paul Hoffman, whom some of my
+readers will remember as "Paul the Peddler."  Paul was proprietor
+of a necktie stand below the Astor House, and was just returning
+home to supper.
+
+He was a brave and manly boy, and his sympathies were always in
+favor of the oppressed.  He had met Phil before, and talked with
+him, and seeing him in danger came to his assistance.
+
+"What made you push me?" demanded Tim, fiercely.
+
+"What were you going to do to him?" rejoined Paul, indicating
+the Italian boy.
+
+"I was only goin' to borrer his fiddle."
+
+"He would have broken it," said Phil.
+
+"You don't know how to play," said Paul.  "You would have broken
+his fiddle, and then he would be beaten."
+
+"I would pay for it if I did," said Tim.
+
+"You say so, but you wouldn't.  Even if you did, it would take
+time, and the boy would have suffered."
+
+"What business is that of yours?" demanded Tim, angrily.
+
+"It is always my business when I see a big boy teasing a little
+one."
+
+"You'll get hurt some day," said Tim, suddenly.
+
+"Not by you," returned Paul, not particularly alarmed.
+
+Tim would have gladly have punished Paul on the spot for his
+interference, but he did not consider it prudent to provoke
+hostilities.  Paul was as tall as himself, and considerably
+stronger.  He therefore wisely confined himself to threatening
+words.
+
+"Come along with me, Phil," said Paul, kindly, to the little
+fiddler.
+
+"Thank you for saving me," said Phil, gratefully.  "The padrone
+would beat me if the fiddle was broke."
+
+"Never mind about thanks, Phil.  Tim is a bully with small boys,
+but he is a coward among large ones.  Have you had any supper?"
+
+"No," said Phil.
+
+"Won't you come home and take supper with me?"
+
+Phil hesitated.
+
+"You are kind," he said, "but I fear the padrone."
+
+"What will he do to you?"
+
+"He will beat me if I don't bring home enough money."
+
+"How much more must you get?"
+
+"Sixty cents."
+
+"You can play better after a good supper.  Come along; I won't
+keep you long."
+
+Phil made no more objection.  He was a healthy boy, and his
+wanderings had given him a good appetite.  So he thanked Paul,
+and walked along by his side.  One object Paul had in inviting
+him was, the fear that Tim Rafferty might take advantage of his
+absence to renew his assault upon Phil, and with better success
+than before.
+
+"How old are you, Phil?" he asked.
+
+"Twelve years."
+
+"And who taught you to play?"
+
+"No one.  I heard the other boys play, and so I learned."
+
+"Do you like it?"
+
+"Sometimes; but I get tired of it."
+
+"I don't wonder.  I should think playing day after day might
+tire you.  What are you going to do when you become a man?"
+
+Phil shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I don't know," he said.  "I think I'll go back to Italy."
+
+"Have you any relations there?"
+
+"I have a mother and two sisters."
+
+"And a father?"
+
+"Yes, a father."
+
+"Why did they let you come away?"
+
+"The padrone gave my father money."
+
+"Don't you hear anything from home?"
+
+"No, signore."
+
+"I am not a signore," said Paul, smiling.  "You may call me Paul. 
+Is that an Italian name?"
+
+"Me call it Paolo."
+
+"That sounds queer to me.  What's James in Italian?"
+
+"Giacomo."
+
+"Then I have a little brother Giacomo."
+
+"How old is he?"
+
+"Eight years old."
+
+"My sister Bettina is eight years.  I wish I could see her."
+
+"You will see her again some day, Phil.  You will get rich in
+America, and go back to sunny Italy."
+
+"The padrone takes all my money."
+
+"You'll get away from the old rascal some day.  Keep up good
+courage, Phil, and all will come right.  But here we are.  Follow
+me upstairs, and I will introduce you to my mother and Giacomo,"
+said Paul, laughing at the Italian name he had given his little
+brother.
+
+Mrs. Hoffman and Jimmy looked with some surprise at the little
+fiddler as he entered with Paul.
+
+"Mother," said Paul, "this is one of my friends, whom I have
+invited to take supper with us."
+
+"He is welcome," said Mrs. Hoffman, kindly.  "Have you ever
+spoken to us of him?"
+
+"I am not sure.  His name is Phil--Phil the fiddler, we call
+him."
+
+"Filippo," said the young musician.
+
+"We will call you Phil; it is easier to speak," said Paul.  "This
+is my little brother Jimmy.  He is a great artist."
+
+"Now you are laughing at me, Paul," said the little boy.
+
+"Well, he is going to be a great artist some day, if he isn't one
+yet.  Do you think, Jimmy, you could draw Phil, here, with his
+fiddle?"
+
+"I think I could," said the little boy, slowly, looking carefully
+at their young guest; "but it would take some time."
+
+"Perhaps Phil will come some day, and give you a sitting."
+
+"Will you come?" asked Jimmy.
+
+"I will come some day."
+
+Meanwhile Mrs. Hoffman was preparing supper.  Since Paul had
+become proprietor of the necktie stand, as described in the last
+volume, they were able to live with less regard to economy than
+before.  So, when the table was spread, it presented quite a
+tempting appearance.  Beefsteak, rolls, fried potatoes, coffee,
+and preserves graced the board.
+
+"Supper is ready, Paul," said his mother, when all was finished.
+
+"Here, Phil, you may sit here at my right hand," said Paul.  "I
+will put your violin where it will not be injured."
+
+Phil sat down as directed, not without feeling a little awkward,
+yet with a sense of anticipated pleasure.  Accustomed to bread
+and cheese alone, the modest repast before him seemed like a
+royal feast.  The meat especially attracted him, for he had not
+tasted any for months, indeed seldom in his life, for in Italy it
+is seldom eaten by the class to which Phil's parents belonged.
+
+"Let me give you some meat, Phil," said Paul.  "Now, shall we
+drink the health of the padrone in coffee?"
+
+"I will not drink his health," said Phil.  "He is a bad man."
+
+"Who is the padrone?" asked Jimmy, curiously.
+
+"He is my master.  He sends me out to play for money."
+
+"And must you give all the money you make to him?"
+
+"Yes; if I do not bring much money, he will beat me."
+
+"Then he must be a bad man.  Why do you live with him?"
+
+"He bought me from my father."
+
+"He bought you?" repeated Jimmy, puzzled.
+
+"He hires him for so much money," explained Paul.
+
+"But why did your father let you go with a bad man?" asked
+Jimmy.
+
+"He wanted the money," said Phil.  "He cared more for money than
+for me."
+
+What wonder that the boys sold into such cruel slavery should be
+estranged from the fathers who for a few paltry ducats sell the
+liberty and happiness of their children.  Even where the contract
+is for a limited terms of years, the boys in five cases out of
+ten are not returned at the appointed time.  A part, unable to
+bear the hardships and privations of the life upon which they
+enter, are swept off by death, while of those that survive, a
+part are weaned from their homes, or are not permitted to go
+back.
+
+"You must not ask too many questions, Jimmy."  said Mrs. Hoffman,
+fearing that he might awaken sad thoughts in the little musician.
+
+She was glad to see that Phil ate with a good appetite.  In truth
+he relished the supper, which was the best he remembered to have
+tasted for many a long day.
+
+"Is Italy like America?" asked Jimmy, whose curiosity was
+excited to learn something of Phil's birthplace.
+
+"It is much nicer," said Phil, with a natural love of country. 
+"There are olive trees and orange trees, and grapes--very many."
+
+"Are there really orange trees?  Have you seen them grow?"
+
+"I have picked them from the trees many times."
+
+"I should like that, but I don't care for olives."
+
+"They are good, too."
+
+"I should like the grapes."
+
+"There are other things in Italy which you would like better,
+Jimmy," said Paul.
+
+"What do you mean, Paul?"
+
+"The galleries of fine paintings."
+
+"Yes, I should like to see them.  Have you seen them?"
+
+Phil shook his head.  The picture galleries are in the cities,
+and not in the country district where he was born.
+
+"Sometime, when I am rich, we will all go to Italy, Jimmy; then,
+if Phil is at home, we will go and see him."
+
+"I should like that, Paul."
+
+Though Jimmy was not yet eight years old, he had already
+exhibited a remarkable taste for drawing, and without having
+received any instruction, could copy any ordinary picture with
+great exactness.  It was the little boy's ambition to become an
+artist, and in this ambition he was encouraged by Paul, who
+intended, as soon as he could afford it, to engage an instructor
+for Jimmy.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+ON THE FERRY BOAT
+
+When supper was over, Phil bethought himself that his day's work
+was not yet over.  He had still a considerable sum to obtain
+before he dared go home, if such a name can be given to the
+miserable tenement in Crosby Street where he herded with his
+companions.  But before going he wished to show his gratitude to
+Paul for his protection and the supper which he had so much and
+so unexpectedly enjoyed.
+
+"Shall I play for you?" he asked, taking his violin from the top
+of the bureau, where Paul had placed it.
+
+"Will you?" asked Jimmy, his eyes lighting up with pleasure.
+
+"We should be very glad to hear you," said Mrs. Hoffman.
+
+Phil played his best, for he felt that he was playing for
+friends.  After a short prelude, he struck into an Italian song. 
+Though the words were unintelligible, the little party enjoyed
+the song.
+
+"Bravo, Phil!" said Paul.  "You sing almost as well as I do."
+
+Jimmy laughed.
+
+"You sing about as well as you draw," said the little boy.
+
+"There you go again with your envy and jealousy," said Paul, in
+an injured tone.  "Others appreciate me better."
+
+"Sing something, and we will judge of your merits," said his
+mother.
+
+"Not now," said Paul, shaking his head.  "My feelings are too
+deeply injured.  But if he has time, Phil will favor us with
+another song."
+
+So the little fiddler once more touched the strings of his
+violin, and sang the hymn of Garibaldi.
+
+"He has a beautiful voice," said Mrs. Hoffman to Paul.
+
+"Yes, Phil sings much better than most of his class.  Shall I
+bring him up here again?"
+
+"Any time, Paul.  We shall always be glad to see him."
+
+Here Phil took his cap and prepared to depart.
+
+"Good-by," he said in English.  "I thank you all for your
+kindness."
+
+"Will you come again?" said Mrs. Hoffman.  "We shall be glad to
+have you."
+
+"Do come," pleaded Jimmy, who had taken a fancy to the dark-eyed
+Italian boy, whose brilliant brown complexion contrasted strongly
+with his own pale face and blue eyes.
+
+These words gave Phil a strange pleasure.  Since his arrival in
+America he had become accustomed to harsh words and blows; but
+words of kindness were strangers to his ears.  For an hour he
+forgot the street and his uninviting home, and felt himself
+surrounded by a true home atmosphere.  He almost fancied himself
+in his Calabrian home, with his mother and sisters about him --in
+his home as it was before cupidity entered his father's heart and
+impelled him to sell his own flesh and blood into slavery in a
+foreign land.  Phil could not analyze his own emotions, but these
+were the feelings which rose in his heart, and filed it with
+transient sadness.
+
+"I thank you much," he said.  "I will come again some day."
+
+"Come soon, Phil," said Paul.  "You know where my necktie stand
+is.  Come there any afternoon between four and five, and I will
+take you home to supper.  Do you know the way out, or shall I go
+with you?"
+
+"I know the way," said Phil.
+
+He went downstairs and once more found himself on the sidewalk. 
+It was but six o'clock, and five or six hours were still before
+him before he could feel at liberty to go home.  Should he return
+too early, he would be punished for losing the possible gains of
+the hour he had lost, even if the sum he brought home were
+otherwise satisfactory.  So, whatever may be his fatigue, or
+however inclement the weather, the poor Italian boy is compelled
+to stay out till near midnight, before he is permitted to return
+to the hard pallet on which only he can sleep off his fatigues.
+
+Again in the street, Phil felt that he must make up for lost
+time.  Now six o'clock is not a very favorable time for street
+music; citizens who do business downtown have mostly gone home to
+dinner.  Those who have not started are in haste, and little
+disposed to heed the appeal of the young minstrel.  Later the
+saloons will be well frequented, and not seldom the young
+fiddlers may pick up a few, sometimes a considerable number of
+pennies, by playing at the doors of these places, or within, if
+they should be invited to enter; but at six there is not much to
+be done.
+
+After a little reflection, Phil determined to go down to Fulton
+Ferry and got on board the Brooklyn steamboat.  He might get a
+chance to play to the passengers, and some, no doubt, would give
+him something.  At any rate, the investment would be small, since
+for one fare, or two cents, he might ride back and forward
+several times, as long as he did not step off the boat.  He,
+therefore, directed his steps toward the ferry, and arrived just
+in time to go on board the boat.
+
+The boat was very full.  So large a number of the people in
+Brooklyn are drawn to New York by business and pleasure, that the
+boats, particularly in the morning from seven to nine, and in the
+afternoon, from five to seven, go loaded down with foot
+passengers and carriages.
+
+Phil entered the ladies' cabin.  Though ostensibly confined to
+ladies' use, it was largely occupied also by gentlemen who did
+not enjoy the smoke which usually affects disagreeably the
+atmosphere of the cabin appropriated to their own sex.  Our young
+musician knew that to children the hearts and purses of ladies
+are more likely to open than those of gentlemen, and this guided
+him.
+
+Entering, he found every seat taken.  He waited till the boat had
+started, and then, taking his position in the center of the rear
+cabin, he began to play and sing, fixing at once the attention of
+the passengers upon himself.
+
+"That boy's a nuisance; he ought not to be allowed to play on the
+boat," muttered an old gentleman, looking up from the columns of
+the Evening Post.
+
+"Now, papa," said a young lady at his side, "why need you object
+to the poor boy?  I am sure he sings very nicely.  I like to hear
+him."
+
+"I don't."
+
+"You know, papa, you have no taste for music.  Why, you went to
+sleep at the opera the other evening."
+
+"I tried to," said her father, in whom musical taste had a very
+limited development.  "It was all nonsense to me."
+
+"He is singing the Hymn of Garibaldi.  What a sweet voice he has! 
+Such a handsome little fellow, too!"
+
+"He has a dirty face, and his clothes are quite ragged."
+
+"But he has beautiful eyes; see how brilliant they are.  No
+wonder he is dirty and ragged; it isn't his fault, poor boy.  I
+have no doubt he has a miserable home.  I'm going to give him
+something."
+
+"Just as you like, Florence; as I am not a romantic young damsel,
+I shall not follow your example."'
+
+By this time the song was finished, and Phil, taking off his cap,
+went the rounds.  None of the contributions were larger than five
+cents, until he came to the young lady of whom we have spoken
+above.  She drew a twenty-five-cent piece from her portemonnaie,
+and put it into Phil's hand, with a gracious smile, which pleased
+the young fiddler as much as the gift, welcome though that
+undoubtedly was.
+
+"Thank you, lady," he said.
+
+"You sing very nicely," she replied.
+
+Phil smiled, and dirty though his face was, the smile lighted it
+up with rare beauty.
+
+"Do you often come on these boats?" asked the young lady.
+
+"Sometimes, but they do not always let me play," said Phil.
+
+"I hope I shall hear you again.  You have a good voice."
+
+"Thank you, signorina."
+
+"You can speak English.  I tried to speak with one of you the
+other day, but he could only speak Italian."
+
+"I know a few words, signorina."
+
+"I hope I shall see you again," and the young lady, prompted by a
+natural impulse of kindness, held out her hand to the little
+musician.  He took it respectfully, and bending over, touched it
+with his lips.
+
+The young lady, to whom this was quite unexpected, smiled and
+blushed, by no means offended, but she glanced round her to see
+whether it was observed by others.
+
+"Upon my word, Florence," said her father, as Phil moved away,
+"you have got up quite a scene with this little ragged musician. 
+I am rather glad he is not ten or twelve years older, or there
+might be a romantic elopement."
+
+"Now, papa, you are too bad," said Florence.  "Just because I
+choose to be kind to a poor, neglected child, you fancy all sorts
+of improbable things."
+
+"I don't know where you get all your foolish romance from--not
+from me, I am sure."
+
+"I should think not," said Florence, laughing merrily.  "Your
+worst enemy won't charge you with being romantic, papa."
+
+"I hope not," said her father, shrugging his shoulders.  "But the
+boat has touched the pier.  Shall we go on shore, or have you any
+further business with your young Italian friend?"
+
+"Not to-day, papa."
+
+The passengers vacated the boat, and were replaced by a smaller
+number, on their way from Brooklyn to New York.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE BARROOM
+
+Phil did not leave the boat.  He lingered in the cabin until the
+passengers were seated, and after the boat was again under way
+began to play.  This time, however, he was not as fortunate as
+before.  While in the midst of a tune one of the men employed on
+the boat entered the cabin.  At times he would not have
+interfered with him, but he happened to be in ill humor, and this
+proved unfortunate for Phil.
+
+"Stop your noise, boy," he said.
+
+Phil looked up.
+
+"May I not play?"
+
+"No; nobody wants to hear you."
+
+The young fiddler did not dare to disobey.  He saw that for the
+present his gains were at an end.  However, he had enough to
+satisfy the rapacity of the padrone, and could afford to stop. 
+He took a seat, and waited quietly till the boat landed.  One of
+the lady passengers, as she passed him on her way out of the
+cabin, placed ten cents in his hand.  This led him to count up
+his gains.  He found they amounted to precisely two dollars and
+fifty cents.
+
+"I need not play any more," he thought.  "I shall not be beaten
+to-night."
+
+He found his seat so comfortable, especially after wandering
+about the streets all day, that he remained on the boat for two
+more trips.  Then, taking his violin under his arm, he went out
+on the pier.
+
+It was half-past seven o'clock.  He would like to have gone to
+his lodging, but knew that it would not be permitted.  In this
+respect the Italian fiddler is not as well off as those who ply
+other street trades.  Newsboys and bootblacks are their own
+masters, and, whether their earnings are little or great, reap
+the benefit of them themselves.  They can stop work at six if
+they like, or earlier; but the little Italian musician must
+remain in the street till near midnight, and then, after a long
+and fatiguing day, he is liable to be beaten and sent to bed
+without his supper, unless he brings home a satisfactory sum of
+money.
+
+Phil walked about here and there in the lower part of the city. 
+As he was passing a barroom he was called in by the barkeeper.
+
+"Give us a tune, boy," he said.
+
+It was a low barroom, frequented by sailors and a rough set of
+customers of similar character.  The red face of the barkeeper
+showed that he drank very liberally, and the atmosphere was
+filled with the fumes of bad cigars and bad liquor.  The men were
+ready for a good time, as they called it, and it was at the
+suggestion of one of them that Phil had been invited in.
+
+"Play a tune on your fiddle, you little ragamuffin," said one.
+
+Phil cared little how he was addressed.  He was at the service of
+the public, and what he chiefly cared for was that he be paid for
+his services.
+
+"What shall I play?" he asked.
+
+"Anything," hiccoughed one.  "It's all the same to me.  I don't
+know one tune from another."
+
+The young fiddler played one of the popular airs of the day.  He
+did not undertake to sing, for the atmosphere was so bad that he
+could hardly avoid coughing.  He was anxious to get out into the
+street, but he did not wish to refuse playing.  When he had
+finished his tune, one of those present, a sailor, cried, "That's
+good.  Step up, boys, and have a drink."
+
+The invitation was readily accepted by all except Phil.  Noticing
+that the boy kept his place, the sailor said, "Step up, boy, and
+wet your whistle."
+
+Phil liked the weak wines of his native land, but he did not care
+for the poisonous decoctions of be found in such places.
+
+"I am not thirsty," he said.
+
+"Yes, you are; here, give this boy a glass of brandy."
+
+"I do not want it," said Phil.
+
+"You won't drink with us," exclaimed the sailor, who had then
+enough to be quarrelsome.  "Then I'll make you;" and he brought
+down his fist so heavily upon the counter as to make the glasses
+rattle.  "Then I'll make you.  Here, give me a glass, and I'll
+pour it down his throat.'
+
+The fiddler was frightened at his vehemence, and darted to the
+door.  But the sailor was too quick for him.  Overtaking Phil, he
+dragged him back with a rough grasp, and held out his hand for
+the glass.  But an unexpected friend now turned up.
+
+"Oh, let the boy go, Jack," said a fellow sailor.  "If he don't
+want to drink, don't force him."
+
+But his persecutor was made ugly by his potations, and swore that
+Phil should drink before he left the barroom.
+
+"That he shall not," said his new friend.
+
+"Who is to prevent it?" demanded Jack, fiercely.
+
+"I will."
+
+"Then I'll pour a glass down your throat, too," returned Jack,
+menacingly.
+
+"No need of that.  I am ready enough to drink.  But the boy
+shan't drink, if he don't want to."
+
+"He shall!" retorted the first sailor, with an oath.
+
+Still holding Phil by the shoulder with one hand, with the other
+he took a glass which had just been filled with brandy; he was
+about to pour it down his throat, when the glass was suddenly
+dashed from his hand and broke upon the floor.
+
+With a fresh oath Jack released his hold on Phil, and, maddened
+with rage, threw himself upon the other.  Instantly there was a
+general melee.  Phil did not wait to see the result.  He ran to
+the door, and, emerging into the street, ran away till he had
+placed a considerable distance between himself and the disorderly
+and drunken party in the barroom.  The fight there continued
+until the police, attracted by the noise, forced an entrance and
+carried away the whole party to the station-house, where they had
+a chance to sleep off their potations.
+
+Freed from immediate danger, the young fiddler kept on his way. 
+He had witnessed such scenes before, as he had often been into
+barrooms to play in the evening.  He had not been paid for his
+trouble, but he cared little for that, as the money would have
+done him no good.  He would only have been compelled to pass it
+over to the padrone.  These boys, even at a tender age, are
+necessarily made familiar with the darker side of metropolitan
+life.  Vice and crime are displayed before their young eyes, and
+if they do not themselves become vicious, it is not for the want
+of knowledge and example.
+
+It would be tedious to follow Phil in his wanderings.  We have
+already had a glimpse of the manner in which the days passed with
+him; only it is to be said that this was a favorable specimen. 
+He had been more fortunate in collecting money than usual. 
+Besides, he had had a better dinner than usual, thanks to the
+apple, and a supper such as he had not tasted for months.
+
+About ten o'clock, as he was walking on the Bowery, he met
+Giacomo, his companion of the morning.
+
+The little boy was dragging one foot after the other wearily. 
+There was a sad look on his young face, for he had not been
+successful, and he knew too well how he would be received by the
+padrone.  Yet his face lighted up as he saw Phil.  Often before
+Phil had encouraged him when he was despondent.  He looked upon
+our young hero as his only friend; for there was no other of the
+boys who seemed to care for him or able to help him.
+
+"Is it you, Filippo?" he said.
+
+"Yes, Giacomo.  What luck have you had?"
+
+"Not much.  I have only a little more than a dollar.  I am so
+tired; but I don't dare go back.  The padrone will beat me."
+
+An idea came to Phil.  He did not know how much money he had; but
+he was sure it must be considerably more than two dollars, Why
+should he not give some to his friend to make up his
+deficiencies, and so perhaps save him from punishment?
+
+"I have had better luck," he said.  "I have almost three
+dollars."
+
+"You are always luckier than I, Filippo."
+
+"I am stronger, Giacomo.  It does not tire me so much to walk
+about."
+
+"You can sing, too.  I cannot sing very much, and I do not get so
+much money."
+
+"Tell me just how much money you have, Giacomo."
+
+"I have a dollar and thirty cents," said Giacomo, after counting
+the contents of his pockets.
+
+Meanwhile Phil had been doing the same thing.  The result of his
+count was that he found he had two dollars and eighty cents.
+
+"Listen, Giacomo," he said.  "I will give you enough to make two
+dollars."
+
+"But then you will be beaten."
+
+"No; I shall have two dollars and five cents left.  Then neither
+of us will get beaten."
+
+"How kind you are, Filippo!"
+
+"Oh, it is nothing.  Besides, I do not want to carry too much. 
+or the padrone will expect me to bring as much every day, and
+that I cannot do.  So it will be better for us both."
+
+The transfer was quickly made, and the two boys kept together
+until they heard the clock strike eleven.  It was now so late
+that they determined to return to their miserable lodging, for
+both were tired and longed for sleep.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE HOME OF THE BOYS
+
+It was a quarter-past eleven when Phil and Giacomo entered the
+shabby brick house which they called home, for want of a better. 
+From fifteen to twenty of their companions had already arrived,
+and the padrone was occupied in receiving their several
+contributions.  The apartment was a mean one, miserably
+furnished, but seemed befitting the principal occupant, whose
+dark face was marked by an expression of greed, and alternately
+showed satisfaction or disappointment as the contents of the
+boys' pockets were satisfactory or otherwise.  Those who had done
+badly were set apart for punishment.
+
+He looked up as the two boys entered.
+
+"Well, Filippo," he said, harshly, "how much have you got?"
+
+Phil handed over his earnings.  They were up to the required
+limit, but the padrone looked only half satisfied.
+
+"Is that all you have?" he asked, suspiciously.
+
+"It is all, signore."
+
+"You have not done well this afternoon, then.  When I met you at
+twelve o'clock you had more than a dollar."
+
+"It was because a good signora gave me fifty cents."
+
+The padrone, still suspicious, plunging his hands into Phil's
+pockets, but in vain.  He could not find another penny.
+
+"Take off your shoes and stockings," he said, still unsatisfied.
+
+Phil obediently removed his shoes and stockings, but no money was
+found concealed, as the padrone half suspected.  Sometimes these
+poor boys, beset by a natural temptation, secrete a portion of
+their daily earnings.  Whenever they are detected, woe betide
+them.  The padrone makes an example of them, inflicting a cruel
+punishment, in order to deter other boys from imitating them.
+
+Having discovered nothing, he took Phil's violin, and proceeded
+to Giacomo.
+
+"Now for you," he said.
+
+Giacomo handed over his money.  The padrone was surprised in
+turn, but his surprise was of a different nature.  He had
+expected to find him deficient, knowing that he was less
+enterprising than Phil.  He was glad to get more money than he
+expected, but a little disappointed that he had no good excuse
+for beating him; for he had one of those hard, cruel natures that
+delight in inflicting pain and anguish upon others.
+
+"Take care that you do as well to-morrow," he said.  "Go and get
+your supper."
+
+One of the larger boys was distributing bread and cheese to the
+hungry boys.  Nearly all ate as if famished, plain and uninviting
+as was the supper, for they had been many hours without food. 
+But Phil, who, as we know, had eaten a good supper at Mrs.
+Hoffman's, felt very little appetite.  He slyly gave his bread to
+one of the boys, who, on account of the small sum he brought
+home, had been sentenced to go without.  But the sharp eyes of
+the padrone, which, despite his occupation, managed to see all
+that was going on, detected this action, and he became suspicious
+that Phil had bought supper out of his earnings.;
+
+"Why did you give your bread to Giuseppe?" he demanded.
+
+"Because I was not hungry," answered Phil.
+
+"Why were you not hungry?  Did you buy some supper?"
+
+"No, signore."
+
+"Then you should be hungry."
+
+"A kind lady gave me some supper."
+
+"How did it happen?"
+
+"I knew her son.  His name is Paolo.  He asked me to go home with
+him.  Then he gave me a good supper."
+
+"How long were you there?  You might have been playing and
+brought me some more money," said the padrone, who, with
+characteristic meanness, grudged the young fiddler time to eat
+the meal that cost him nothing.
+
+"It was not long, signore."
+
+"You can eat what is given you, but you must not waste too much
+time."
+
+A boy entered next, who showed by his hesitating manner that he
+did not anticipate a good reception.  The padrone, accustomed to
+judge by appearances, instantly divined this.
+
+"Well, Ludovico," he said, sharply, "what do you bring me?"
+
+"Pardon, padrone," said Ludovico, producing a small sum of money.
+
+"I could not help it."
+
+"Seventy-five cents," repeated the padrone, indignantly.  "You
+have been idle, you little wretch!"
+
+"No, padrone.  Indeed, I did my best.  The people would not give
+me money."
+
+"Where did you go?"
+
+"I was in Brooklyn."
+
+"You have spent some of the money."
+
+"No, padrone."
+
+"You have been idle, then.  No supper to-night.  Pietro, my
+stick!"
+
+Pietro was one of the older boys.  He was ugly physically, and
+his disposition corresponded with his appearance.  He could have
+few good traits, or he would not have possessed the confidence of
+the padrone.  He was an efficient assistant of the latter, and
+co-operated with him in oppressing the other boys.  Indeed, he
+was a nephew of the padrone's, and for this reason, as well as
+his similarity of disposition, he was treated with unusual
+indulgence.  Whenever the padrone felt suspicious of any of the
+boys, he usually sent them out in company with Pietro, who acted
+as a spy, faithfully reporting all that happened to his
+principal.
+
+Pietro responded with alacrity to the command of the padrone, and
+produced a stout stick, which he handed to his uncle.
+
+"Now strip off your jacket," said the padrone, harshly.
+
+"Spare me, padrone!  Do not beat me!  It was not my fault," said
+the unhappy Ludovico, imploringly.
+
+"Take off your jacket!" repeated the padrone, pitilessly.
+
+One look of that hard face might have taught Ludovico, even if he
+had not witnessed the punishment so often inflicted on other
+boys, that there was no hope for him.
+
+"Help him, Pietro," said the padrone.
+
+Pietro seized Ludovico's jacket, and pulled it off roughly.  Then
+he drew off the ragged shirt which the boy wore underneath, and
+his bare back was exposed to view.
+
+"Hold him, Pietro!"
+
+In Pietro's firm grasp, the boy was unable to stir.  The padrone
+whirled the stick aloft, and brought it down upon the naked
+flesh, leaving behind a fearful wheal.
+
+Ludovico shrieked aloud, and again implored mercy, but in vain,
+for the stick descended again and again.
+
+Meanwhile the other boys looked on, helpless to interfere.  The
+more selfish were glad that they had escaped, though not at all
+sure but it would be their turn next evening.  There were others
+who felt a passive sympathy for their unlucky comrade.  Others
+were filled with indignation at the padrone, knowing how cruel
+and unjust were his exactions.  Among these was Phil.  Possessed
+of a warm and sympathetic heart, he never witnessed these cruel
+punishments without feeling that he would like to see the padrone
+suffering such pain as he inflicted upon others.
+
+"If I were only a man," he often thought, "I would wrench the
+stick from his hand, and give him a chance to feel it."
+
+But he knew too well the danger of permitting his real sentiments
+to be reflected in his face.  It would only bring upon him a
+share of the same punishment, without benefiting those who were
+unfortunate enough to receive it.
+
+When Ludovico's punishment was ended, he was permitted to go to
+bed, but without his supper.  Nor was his the only case.  Five
+other boys were subjected to the same punishment.  The stick had
+no want of exercise on that evening.  Here were nearly forty
+boys, subjected to excessive fatigue, privation, and brutal
+treatment daily, on account of the greed of one man.  The hours
+that should been given in part to instruction, and partly to such
+recreation as the youthful heart craves, were devoted to a
+pursuit that did nothing to prepare them for the duties of life. 
+And this white slavery--for it merits no better name--is
+permitted by the law of two great nations.  Italy is in fault in
+suffering this traffic in her children of tender years, and
+America is guilty as well in not interfering, as she might, at
+all events, to abridge the long hours of labor required of these
+boys, and forcing their cruel guardians to give them some
+instruction.
+
+One by one the boys straggled in.  By midnight all had returned,
+and the boys were permitted to retire to their beds, which were
+poor enough.  This, however, was the least of their troubles. 
+Sound are the slumbers of young however hard the couch on which
+it rests, especially when, as with all the young Italian boys,
+the day has been one of fatigue.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A COLD DAY
+
+The events thus far recorded in the life of our young hero took
+place on a day toward the middle of October, when the temperature
+was sufficiently mild to produce no particular discomfort in
+those exposed to it.  We advance our story two months, and behold
+Phil setting out for his day's wandering on a morning in
+December, when the keen blasts swept through the streets, sending
+a shiver through the frames even of those who were well
+protected.  How much more, then, must it be felt by the young
+street musician, who, with the exception of a woolen tippet, wore
+nothing more or warmer than in the warmer months!  Yet, Phil,
+with his natural vigorous frame, was better able to bear the
+rigor of the winter weather than some of his comrades, as
+Giacomo, to whom the long hours spent in the streets were laden
+with suffering and misery.
+
+The two boys went about together when they dared to do so, though
+the padrone objected, but for what reason it did not seem
+manifest, unless because he suspected that two would plan
+something prejudicial to his interests.  Phil, who was generally
+more successful than Giacomo, often made up his smaller
+comrade's deficiencies by giving him a portion of his own gains.
+
+It was a raw day.  Only those who felt absolutely obliged to be
+out were to be seen in the streets; but among these were our two
+little fiddlers.  Whatever might be the weather, they were
+compelled to expose themselves to its severity.  However the boys
+might suffer, they must bring home the usual amount.  But at
+eleven o'clock the prospects seemed rather discouraging.  They
+had but twenty-five cents between them, nor would anyone stop to
+listen to their playing.
+
+"I wish it were night, Filippo," said Giacomo, shivering with
+cold.
+
+"So do I, Giacomo.  Are you very cold?"
+
+"Yes," said the little boy, his teeth chattering.  "I wish I were
+back in Italy.  It is never so cold there."
+
+"No, Giacomo; you are right.  But I would not mind the cold so
+much, if I had a warm overcoat like that boy," pointing out a boy
+clad in a thick overcoat, and a fur cap drawn over his ears,
+while his hands were snugly incased in warm gloves.
+
+He, too, looked at the two fiddlers, and he could not help
+noticing how cold they looked.
+
+"Look here, you little chaps, are you cold?  You look as if you
+had just come from Greenland."
+
+"Yes," said Phil.  "We are cold."
+
+"Your hands look red enough.  Here is an old pair of gloves for
+one of you.  I wish I had another pair.  They are not very thick,
+but they are better than none."
+
+He drew a pair of worsted gloves from his pocket, and handed them
+to Phil.
+
+"Thank you," said Phil; but having received them, he gave them to
+Giacomo.
+
+"You are colder than I am, Giacomo," he said.  "Take them."
+
+"But you are cold, too, Filippo."
+
+"I will put my hands in my pockets.  Don't mind me."
+
+Of course this conversation took place in Italian; for, though
+Phil had learned considerable English, Giacomo understood but a
+few words of it.
+
+The gloves afforded some protection, but still both boys were
+very cold.  They were in Brooklyn, having crossed the ferry in
+the morning.  They had wandered to a part not closely built up,
+where they were less sheltered, and experienced greater
+discomfort.
+
+"Can't we go in somewhere and get warm?  pleaded Giacomo.
+
+"Here is a grocery store.  We will go in there."
+
+Phil opened the door and entered.  The shopkeeper, a
+peevish-looking man, with lightish hair, stood behind the counter
+weighing out a pound of tea for a customer.
+
+"What do you want here, you little vagabonds?" he exclaimed,
+harshly, as he saw the two boys enter.
+
+"We are cold," said Phil.  "May we stand by your stove and get
+warm?"
+
+"Do you think I provide a fire for all the vagabonds in the
+city?" said the grocer, with a brutal disregard of their evident
+suffering.
+
+Phil hesitated, not knowing whether he was ordered out or not.
+
+"Clear out of my store, I say!" said the grocer, harshly.  "I
+don't want you in here.  Do you understand?"
+
+At this moment a gentleman of prepossessing appearance entered
+the store.  He heard the grocer's last words, and their
+inhumanity made him indignant.
+
+"What do these boys want, Mr. Perkins?" he said.
+
+"They want to spend their time in my shop.  I have no room for
+such vagabonds."
+
+"We are cold," said Phil.  "We only want to warm ourselves by the
+fire."
+
+"I don't want you here," said the grocer, irritably.
+
+"Mr. Perkins," said the gentleman, sharply, "have you no
+humanity?  What harm can it do you to let these poor boys get
+warm by your fire?  It will cost you nothing; it will not
+diminish your personal comfort; yet you drive them out into the
+cold."
+
+The grocer began to perceive that he was on the wrong tack.  The
+gentleman who addressed him was a regular and profitable
+customer, and he did not like to incur his ill will, which would
+entail loss.
+
+"They can stay, Mr. Pomeroy," he said, with an ill grace, "since
+you ask it."
+
+"I do not ask it.  I will not accept, as a personal favor, what
+you should have granted from a motive of humanity, more
+especially as, after this exhibition of your spirit, I shall not
+trade here any longer."
+
+By this time the grocer perceived that he had made a mistake.
+
+"I hope you will reconsider that, Mr. Pomeroy," he said,
+abjectly.  "The fact is, I had no objections to the boys warming
+themselves, but they are mostly thieves, and I could not keep my
+eyes on them all the time."
+
+"I think you are mistaken.  They don't look like thieves.  Did
+you ever have anything stolen by one of this class of boys?"
+
+"Not that I know of," said the grocer, hesitatingly; "but it is
+likely they would steal if they got a chance."
+
+"We have no right to say that of anyone without good cause." 
+
+"We never steal," said Phil, indignantly; for he understood what
+was said.
+
+"Of course he says so," sneered the grocer.  "Come and warm
+yourselves, if you want to."
+
+The boys accepted this grudging invitation, and drew near the
+stove.  They spread out their hands, and returning warmth proved
+very grateful to them.
+
+"Have you been out long?" asked the gentleman who had interceded
+in their behalf, also drawing near the stove.
+
+"Since eight, signore."
+
+"Do you live in Brooklyn?"
+
+"No; in New York."
+
+"And do you go out every day?"
+
+"Si, signore."
+
+"How long since you came from Italy?"
+
+"A year."
+
+"Would you like to go back?"
+
+"He would," said Phil, pointing to his companion.  "I would like
+to stay here, if I had a good home."
+
+"What kind of a home have you?  With whom do you live?"
+
+"With the padrone."
+
+"I suppose that means your guardian?"
+
+"Yes, sir," answered Phil.
+
+"Is he kind to you?"
+
+"He beats us if we do not bring home enough money."
+
+"Your lot is a hard one.  What makes you stay with him?  Don't
+the boys ever run away?"
+
+"Sometimes."
+
+"What does the padrone do in that case?"
+
+"He tries to find them."
+
+"And if he does--what then?"
+
+"He beats them for a long time."
+
+"Evidently your padrone is a brute.  Why don't you complain to
+the police?"
+
+Phil shrugged his shoulders, and did not answer.  He evidently
+thought the suggestion an impracticable one.  These boys are wont
+to regard the padrone as above all law.  His power seems to them
+absolute, and they never dream of any interference.  And, indeed,
+there is some reason for their cherishing this opinion.  However
+brutal his treatment, I know of no case where the law has stepped
+in to rescue the young victim.  This is partly, no doubt, because
+the boys, few of whom can speak the English language, do not know
+their rights, and seldom complain to outsiders--never to the
+authorities.  Probably, in some cases, the treatment is less
+brutal than I have depicted; but from the best information I can
+obtain from trustworthy sources, I fear that the reality, if
+anything, exceeds the picture I have drawn.
+
+"I think I should enjoy giving your padrone a horsewhipping,"
+said the gentleman, impetuously.  "Can such things be permitted
+in the nineteenth century?"
+
+"I have no doubt the little rascals deserve all they get," said
+the grocer, who would probably have found in the Italian padrone
+a congenial spirit.
+
+Mr. Pomeroy deigned no reply to this remark.
+
+"Well, boys," he said, consulting his watch, "I must leave you. 
+Here are twenty-five cents for each of you.  I have one piece of
+advice for you.  If your padrone beats you badly, run away from
+him.  I would if I were in your place."
+
+"Addio, signore," said the two boys.
+
+"I suppose that means 'good-by.' Well, good-by, and better luck."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+PIETRO THE SPY
+
+Though from motives of policy the grocer had permitted the boys
+to warm themselves by his fire, he felt only the more incensed
+against them on this account, and when Mr. Pomeroy had gone
+determined to get rid of them.
+
+"Haven't you got warm yet?" he asked.  "I can't have you in my
+way all day."
+
+"We will go," said Phil.  "Come, Giacomo."
+
+He did not thank the grocer, knowing how grudgingly permission
+had been given.
+
+So they went out again into the chill air, but they had got
+thoroughly warmed, and were better able to bear it.
+
+"Where shall we go, Filippo?" asked the younger boy.
+
+"We will go back to New York.  It is not so cold there."
+
+Giacomo unhesitatingly assented to whatever Phil proposed.  He
+was not self-reliant, like our hero, but always liked to have
+someone to lean upon.
+
+They made their way back to Fulton Ferry in a leisurely manner,
+stopping here and there to play; but it was a bad day for
+business.  The cold was such that no one stopped to give them
+anything, except that one young man dropped ten cents in Phil's
+hand as he hurried by, on his way home.
+
+At length they reached the ferry.  The passengers were not so
+many in number as usual.  The cabin was so warm and comfortable
+that they remained on board for two or three trips, playing each
+time.  In this way they obtained about thirty cents more.  They
+would have remained longer, but that one of the deck hands asked,
+"How many times are you going across for two cents?" and this
+made them think it prudent to go.
+
+When six o'clock came Giacomo asked Phil, who acted as treasurer,
+how much money they had
+
+"Two dollars," answered Phil.
+
+"That is only one dollar for each."
+
+"Yes, Giacomo."
+
+"Then we shall be beaten," said the little boy, with a sigh.
+
+"I am afraid so."
+
+"And get no supper."
+
+"Yes," said Phil; "unless," he added, "we get some supper now."
+
+"With this money?" asked Giacomo, startled at the boldness of
+the suggestion.
+
+"Yes; we shall be beaten at any rate.  It will be no worse for us
+if we get some supper."
+
+"Will you buy some bread?"
+
+"No," said Phil, daringly.  "I am going to buy some meat."
+
+"What will the padrone say?"
+
+"I shall not tell the padrone."
+
+"Do you think he will find out?"
+
+"No.  Besides, we ought to have some supper after walking about
+all day."
+
+Evidently Phil had begun to think, and the essential injustice of
+laboring without proper compensation had impressed his youthful
+mind.  Giacomo was more timid.  He had not advanced as far as
+Phil, nor was he as daring.  But I have already said that he was
+guided in a great measure by Phil, and so it proved in this case.
+
+Phil, having made up his mind, set about carrying his plan into
+execution.  Only a block distant was a cheap restaurant, where
+plates of meat were supplied to a poor class of customers at ten
+cents per plate.
+
+"Let us go in here," he said.
+
+Giacomo followed, but not without trepidation.  He knew that what
+they were about to do would be a heinous crime in the eyes of the
+padrone.  Even Phil had never ventured upon such direct rebellion
+before.  But Mr. Pomeroy's suggestion that he should run away was
+beginning to bear fruit in his mind.  He had not come to that
+yet, but he might.  Why should he not earn money for his own
+benefit, as well as for the padrone?  True, he was bound to the
+latter by a legal contract entered into by his father, but Phil,
+without knowing much about law, had an indistinct idea that the
+contract was a one-sided one, and was wholly for the advantage of
+the other party.  The tyrant is always in danger of losing his
+hold upon the victim when the latter begins to think.
+
+They entered the restaurant, and sat down at a table.
+
+The tables were greasy.  The floor was strewed with sawdust.  The
+waiters were dirty, and the entire establishment was neither neat
+nor inviting.  But it was democratic.  No customers were sent
+away because they were unfashionably attired.  The only requisite
+was money enough to defray their bills.  Nevertheless Giacomo
+felt a little in awe even of the dirty waiters.  His frugal meals
+were usually bought at the baker's shop, and eaten standing in
+the street.  Sitting down at a table, even though it was greasy,
+seemed a degree of luxury to which he was not entitled.  But Phil
+more easily adapted himself to circumstances.  He knew that he
+had as much right there as any other customer.
+
+Presently a waiter presented himself.
+
+"Have you ordered?" he asked.
+
+"Give me some roast beef," said Phil.  "What will you have,
+Giacomo?"
+
+"The same as you, Filippo," said Giacomo, in Italian.
+
+"What's that?" asked the waiter, thinking he had named some
+dish.
+
+"He will have some roast beef, too.  Will you have some coffee,
+Giacomo?"
+
+"If you have it," answered the smaller boy.
+
+So Phil gave the double order, and very soon the coffee and meat
+were placed before them.  I suspect that few of my readers would
+have regarded these articles with any relish.  One need not be
+fastidious to find fault with the dark-hued beverage, which was
+only a poor imitation of coffee, and the dark fragments of meat,
+which might have been horseflesh so far as appearance went.  But
+to the two Italian boys it was indeed a feast.  The coffee, which
+was hot, warmed their stomachs, and seemed to them like nectar,
+while the meat was as palatable as the epicure finds his choicest
+dishes.  While eating, even Giacomo forgot that he was engaged in
+something unlawful, and his face was lighted up with rare
+satisfaction.
+
+"It is good," said Phil, briefly, as he laid down his knife and
+fork, after disposing of the last morsel upon his plate.
+
+"I wish I could have such a supper every day," said Giacomo.
+
+"I will when I am a man," said Phil.
+
+"I don't think I shall ever be a man," said Giacomo, shaking his
+head.
+
+"Why not?" asked Phil, regarding him with surprise.
+
+"I do not think I shall live."
+
+"What makes you think so, Giacomo?" said Phil, startled.
+
+"I am not strong, Filippo," said the little boy, "I think I get
+weaker every day.  I long so much to go back to Italy.  If I
+could see my mother once more, I would be willing to die then."
+
+"You must not think of such things, Giacomo," said Phil, who,
+like most healthy boys, did not like to think of death.  "You
+will get strong when summer comes.  The weather is bad now, of
+course."
+
+"I don't think I shall, Filippo.  Do you remember Matteo?"
+
+"Yes, I remember him."
+
+Matteo was a comrade who had died six months before.  He was a
+young boy, about the size and age of Giacomo.
+
+"I dreamed of him last night, Filippo.  He held out his hand to
+me."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"I think I am going to die, like him."
+
+"Don't be foolish, Giacomo," said Phil.  But, though he said
+this, even he was startled by what Giacomo had told him.  He was
+ignorant, and the ignorant are prone to superstition; so he felt
+uncomfortable, but did not like to acknowledge it.
+
+"You must not think of this, Giacomo," he said.  "You will be an
+old man some day."
+
+"That's for you, Filippo.  It isn't for me," said the little boy.
+
+"Come, let us go," said Phil, desirous of dropping the subject.
+
+He went up to the desk, and paid for both, the sum of thirty
+cents.
+
+"Now, come," he said.
+
+Giacomo followed him out, and they turned down the street,
+feeling refreshed by the supper they had eaten.  But
+unfortunately they had been observed.  As they left the
+restaurant, they attracted the attention of Pietro, whom chance
+had brought thither at an unfortunate time.  His sinister face
+lighted up with joy as he realized the discovery he had made. 
+But he wished to make sure that it was as he supposed.  They
+might have gone in only to play and sing.
+
+He crossed the street, unobserved by Phil and Giacomo, and
+entered the restaurant.
+
+"Were my two brothers here?" he asked, assuming relationship.
+
+"Two boys with fiddles?"
+
+"Yes; they just went out."
+
+"Did they get supper?"
+
+"Yes; they had some roast beef and coffee."
+
+"Thank you," said Pietro, and he left the restaurant with his
+suspicions confirmed.
+
+"I shall tell the padrone," he said to himself.
+
+"They will feel the stick to-night."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+FRENCH'S HOTEL
+
+Pietro had one of those mean and malignant natures that are best
+pleased when they are instrumental in bringing others into
+trouble.  He looked forward to becoming a padrone himself some
+time, and seemed admirably fitted by nature to exercise the
+inhuman office.  He lost no time, on his return, in making known
+to his uncle what he had learned.
+
+For the boys to appropriate to their own use money which had been
+received for their services was, in the eyes of the padrone, a
+crime of the darkest shade.  In fact, if the example were
+generally followed, it would have made a large diminution of his
+income, though the boys might have been benefited.  He listened
+to Pietro with an ominous scowl, and decided to inflict condign
+punishment upon the young offenders.
+
+Meanwhile Phil and Giacomo resumed their wanderings.  They no
+longer hoped to make up the large difference between what they
+had and the sum they were expected by the padrone to bring.  As
+the evening advanced the cold increased, and penetrated through
+their thin clothing, chilling them through and through.  Giacomo
+felt it the most.  By and by he began to sob with the cold and
+fatigue.
+
+"What is the matter, Giacomo?" asked Phil, anxiously.
+
+"I feel so cold, Filippo--so cold and tired.  I wish I could
+rest."
+
+The boys were in Printing House Square, near the spot where now
+stands the Franklin statue.
+
+"If you want to rest, Giacomo," said Phil, pityingly, "we will go
+into French's Hotel a little while."
+
+"I should like to."
+
+They entered the hotel and sat down near the heater.  The
+grateful warmth diffused itself through their frames, and Giacomo
+sank back in his seat with a sigh of relief.
+
+"Do you feel better, Giacomo?" asked his comrade.
+
+"Yes, Filippo; I wish I could stay here till it is time to go
+home."
+
+"We will, then.  We shall get no more money outside."
+
+"The padrone----"
+
+"Will beat us at any rate.  It will be no worse for us.  Besides
+they may possibly ask us to play here."
+
+"I can play no more to-night, Filippo, I am so tired."
+
+Phil knew very little of sickness, or he might have seen that
+Giacomo was going to be ill.  Exposure, fatigue, and privation
+had been too much for his strength.  He had never been robust,
+and he had been subjected to trials that would have proved hard
+for one much stronger to bear.
+
+When he had once determined to remain in the comfortable hotel,
+Phil leaned back in his chair also, and decided to enjoy all the
+comfort attainable.  What though there was a beating in prospect?
+
+He had before him two or three hours of rest and relief from the
+outside cold.  He was something of a philosopher, and chose not
+to let future evil interfere with present good.
+
+Near the two boys sat two young men--merchants from the interior
+of New York State, who were making a business visit to the
+metropolis.
+
+"Well, Gardner," said the first, "where shall we go to-night?"
+
+"Why need we go anywhere?"
+
+"I thought you might like to go to some place of amusement."
+
+"So I would if the weather were less inclement.  The most
+comfortable place is by the fire."
+
+"You are right as to that, but the evening will be long and
+stupid."
+
+"Oh, we can worry it through.  Here, for instance, are two young
+musicians," indicating the little fiddlers.  "Suppose we get a
+tune out of them?"
+
+"Agreed.  Here, boy, can you play on that fiddle?"
+
+"Yes," said Phil.
+
+"Well, give us a tune, then.  Is that your brother?"
+
+"No, he is my comrade."
+
+"He can play, too."
+
+"Will you play, Giacomo?"
+
+The younger boy roused himself.  The two stood up, and played two
+or three tunes successfully.  A group of loungers gathered around
+them and listened approvingly.  When they had finished Phil took
+off his hat and went the rounds.  Some gave, the two first
+mentioned contributing most liberally.  The whole sum collected
+was about fifty cents.
+
+Phil and Giacomo now resumed their seats.  They felt now that
+they were entitled to rest for the remainder of the evening,
+since they had gained quite as much as they would have been
+likely to earn in wandering about the streets.  The group that
+had gathered about them dispersed, and they ceased to be objects
+of attention.  Fatigue and the warmth of the room gradually
+affected Giacomo until he leaned back and fell asleep.
+
+"I won't take him till it's time to go back," thought Phil.
+
+So Giacomo slept on, despite the noises in the street outside and
+the confusion incident to every large hotel.  As he sat asleep,
+he attracted the attention of a stout gentleman who was passing,
+leading by the hand a boy of ten.
+
+"Is that your brother?" he asked in a low tone of Phil.
+
+"No, signore; it is my comrade."
+
+"So you go about together?"
+
+"Yes, sir," answered Phil, bethinking himself to use English
+instead of Italian.
+
+"He seems tired."
+
+"Yes; he is not so strong as I am."
+
+"Do you play about the streets all day?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"How would you like that, Henry?" asked his father to the boy at
+his side.
+
+"I should like to play about the streets all day," said Henry,
+roguishly, misinterpreting the word "play."
+
+"I think you would get tired of it.  What is your name, my boy?"
+
+"Filippo."
+
+"And what is the name of your friend?"
+
+"Giacomo."
+
+"Did you never go to school?"
+
+Phil shook his head.
+
+"Would you like to go?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"You would like it better than wandering about the streets all
+day?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Why do you not ask your father to send you to school?"
+
+"My father is in Italy."
+
+"And his father, also?"
+
+"Si, signore," answered Phil, relapsing into Italian.
+
+"What do you think of that, Henry?" asked the gentleman.  "How
+should you like to leave me, and go to some Italian city to roam
+about all day, playing on the violin?"
+
+"I think I would rather go to school."
+
+"I think you would."
+
+"Are you often out so late, Filippo?  I think that is the name
+you gave me."
+
+Phil shrugged his shoulders
+
+"Always," he answered.
+
+"At what time do you go home?"
+
+"At eleven."
+
+"It is too late for a boy of your age to sit up.  Why do you not
+go home sooner?"
+
+"The padrone would beat me."
+
+"Who is the padrone?"
+
+"The man who brought me from Italy to America."
+
+"Poor boys!" said the gentleman, compassionately.  "Yours is a
+hard life.  I hope some time you will be in a better position." 
+
+Phil fixed his dark eyes upon the stranger, grateful for his
+words of sympathy.
+
+"Thank you," he said.
+
+"Good-night," said the stranger, kindly.
+
+"Good-night, signore."
+
+An hour passed.  The City Hall clock near by struck eleven.  The
+time had come for returning to their mercenary guardian.  Phil
+shook the sleeping form of Giacomo.  The little boy stirred in
+his sleep, and murmured, "Madre."  He had been dreaming of his
+mother and his far-off Italian home.  He woke to the harsh
+realities of life, four thousand miles away from that mother and
+home.
+
+"Have I slept, Filippo?" he asked, rubbing his eyes, and looking
+about him in momentary bewilderment.
+
+"Yes, Giacomo.  You have slept for two hours and more.  It is
+eleven o'clock."
+
+"Then we must go back."
+
+"Yes; take your violin, and we will go."
+
+They passed out into the cold street, which seemed yet colder by
+contrast with the warm hotel they just left, and, crossing to the
+sidewalk that skirts the park, walked up Centre street.
+
+Giacomo was seized with a fit of trembling.  His teeth chattered
+with the cold.  A fever was approaching, although neither he nor
+his companion knew it.
+
+"Are you cold, Giacomo?" asked Phil, noticing how he trembled.
+
+"I am very cold.  I feel sick, Filippo."
+
+"You will feel better to-morrow," said Phil; but the thought of
+the beating which his little comrade was sure to receive saddened
+him more than the prospect of being treated in the same way
+himself.
+
+They kept on their way, past the Tombs with its gloomy entrance,
+through the ill-lighted street, scarcely noticed by the policeman
+whom they passed--for he was accustomed to see boys of their
+class out late at night--until at last they reached the dwelling
+of the padrone, who was waiting their arrival with the eagerness
+of a brutal nature, impatient to inflict pain.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+THE BOYS RECEPTION
+
+Phil and Giacomo entered the lodging-house, wholly unconscious of
+the threatening storm, The padrone scowled at them as they
+entered but that was nothing unusual.  Had he greeted them
+kindly, they would have had reason to be surprised.
+
+"Well," he said, harshly, "how much do you bring?"
+
+The boys produced two dollars and a half which he pocketed.
+
+"Is this all?" he asked.
+
+"It was cold," said Phil, "and we could not get more."
+
+The padrone listened with an ominous frown.
+
+"Are you hungry?" he asked.  "Do you want your supper?"
+
+Phil was puzzled by his manner, for he expected to be deprived of
+his supper on account of bringing less money than usual.  Why
+should the padrone ask him if he wanted his supper?  Though he
+was not hungry, he thought it best to answer in the affirmative.
+
+"What would you like?" asked the padrone.
+
+Again Phil was puzzled, for the suppers supplied by the padrone
+never varied, always consisting of bread and cheese.
+
+"Perhaps," continued the padrone, meeting no answer, "you would
+like to have coffee and roast beef."
+
+All was clear now.  Phil understood that he had been seen going
+in or out of the restaurant, though he could not tell by whom. 
+He knew well enough what to expect, but a chivalrous feeling of
+friendship led him to try to shield his young companion, even at
+the risk of a more severe punishment to be inflicted upon
+himself.
+
+"It was my fault," he said, manfully.  "Giacomo would not have
+gone in but for me."
+
+"Wicked, ungrateful boy!" exclaimed the padrone, wrathfully. 
+"It was my money that you spent.  You are a thief!"
+
+Phil felt that this was a hard word, which he did not deserve. 
+The money was earned by himself, though claimed by the padrone. 
+But he did not venture to say this.  It would have been
+revolutionary.  He thought it prudent to be silent.
+
+"Why do you say nothing?" exclaimed the padrone, stamping his
+foot.  "Why did you spend my money?"
+
+"I was hungry."
+
+"So you must live like a nobleman!  Our supper is not good enough
+for you.  How much did you spend?"
+
+"Thirty cents."
+
+"For each?"
+
+"No, signore, for both."
+
+"Then you shall have each fifteen blows, one for each penny.  I
+will teach you to be a thief.  Pietro, the stick!  Now, strip!"
+
+"Padrone," said Phil, generously, "let me have all the blows.  It
+was my fault; Giacomo only went because I asked him."
+
+If the padrone had had a heart, this generous request would have
+touched it; but he was not troubled in that way.
+
+"He must be whipped, too," he said.  "He should not have gone
+with you."
+
+"He is sick, padrone," persisted Phil.  "Excuse him till he is
+better."
+
+"Not a word more," roared the padrone, irritated at his
+persistence.  "If he is sick, it is because he has eaten too
+much," he added, with a sneer.  "Pietro, my stick!"
+
+The two boys began to strip mechanically, knowing that there was
+no appeal.  Phil stood bare to the waist.  The padrone seized the
+stick and began to belabor him.  Phil's brown face showed by its
+contortions the pain he suffered, but he was too proud to cry
+out.  When the punishment was finished his back was streaked with
+red, and looked maimed and bruised.
+
+"Put on your shirt!" commanded the tyrant.
+
+Phil drew it on over his bleeding back and resumed his place
+among his comrades.
+
+"Now!" said the padrone, beckoning to Giacomo.
+
+The little boy approached shivering, not so much with cold as
+with the fever that had already begun to prey upon him.
+
+Phil turned pale and sick as he looked at the padrone preparing
+to inflict punishment.  He would gladly have left the room, but
+he knew that it would not be permitted.
+
+The first blow descended heavily upon the shrinking form of the
+little victim.  It was followed by a shriek of pain and terror.
+
+"What are you howling at?" muttered the padrone, between his
+teeth.  "I will whip you the harder."
+
+Giacomo would have been less able to bear the cruel punishment
+than Phil if he had been well, but being sick, it was all the
+more terrible to him.  The second blow likewise was followed by a
+shriek of anguish.  Phil looked on with pale face, set teeth, and
+blazing eyes, as he saw the barbarous punishment of his comrade. 
+He felt that he hated the padrone with a fierce hatred.  Had his
+strength been equal to the attempt, he would have flung himself
+upon the padrone.  As it was, he looked at his comrades, half
+wishing that they would combine with him against their joint
+oppressor.  But there was no hope of that.  Some congratulated
+themselves that they were not in Giacomo's place; others looked
+upon his punishment as a matter of course.  There was no dream of
+interference, save in the mind of Phil.
+
+The punishment continued amid the groans and prayers for mercy of
+the little sufferer.  But at the eighth stroke his pain and
+terror reached a climax, and nature succumbed.  He sank on the
+floor, fainting.  The padrone thought at first it was a pretense,
+and was about to repeat the strokes, when a look at the pallid,
+colorless face of the little sufferer alarmed him.  It did not
+excite his compassion, but kindled the fear that the boy might be
+dying, in which case the police might interfere and give him
+trouble; therefore he desisted, but unwillingly.
+
+"He is sick," said Phil, starting forward.
+
+"He is no more sick than I am," scowled the padrone.  "Pietro,
+some water!"
+
+Pietro brought a glass of water, which the padrone threw in the
+face of the fallen boy.  The shock brought him partially to.  He
+opened his eyes, and looked around vacantly.
+
+"What is the matter with you?" demanded the padrone, harshly.
+
+"Where am I?" asked Giacomo, bewildered.  But, as he asked this
+question, his eyes met the dark look of his tyrant, and he
+clasped his hands in terror.
+
+"Do not beat me!" he pleaded.  "I feel sick."
+
+"He is only shamming," said Pietro, who was worthy to be the
+servant and nephew of such a master.  But the padrone thought it
+would not be prudent to continue the punishment.
+
+"Help him put on his clothes, Pietro," he said.  "I will let you
+off this time, little rascal, but take heed that you never again
+steal a single cent of my money."
+
+Giacomo was allowed to seek his uncomfortable bed.  His back was
+so sore with the beating he had received that he was compelled to
+lie on his side.  During the night the feverish symptoms
+increased, and before morning he was very sick.  The padrone was
+forced to take some measures for his recovery, not from motives
+of humanity, but because Giacomo's death would cut off a source
+of daily revenue, and this, in the eyes of the mercenary padrone,
+was an important consideration.
+
+Phil went to bed in silence.  Though he was suffering from the
+brutal blows he had received, the thought of the punishment and
+suffering of Giacomo affected him more deeply than his own.  As I
+have said, the two boys came from the same town in southern
+Italy.  They had known each other almost from infancy, and
+something of a fraternal feeling had grown up between them.  In
+Phil's case, since he was the stronger, it was accompanied by the
+feeling that he should be a protector to the younger boy, who, on
+his side, looked up to Phil as stronger and wiser than himself. 
+Though only a boy of twelve, what had happened led Phil to think
+seriously of his position and prospects.  He did not know for how
+long his services had been sold to the padrone by his father, but
+he felt sure that the letter of the contract would be little
+regarded as long as his services were found profitable.
+
+What hope, then, had he of better treatment in the future?  There
+seemed no prospect except of continued oppression and long days
+of hardship, unless--and here the suggestion of Mr. Pomeroy
+occurred to him--unless he ran away.  He had known of boys doing
+this before.  Some had been brought back, and, of course, were
+punished severely for their temerity, but others had escaped, and
+had never returned.  What had become of them Phil did not know,
+but he rightly concluded that they could not be any worse off
+than in the service of the padrone.  Thinking of all this, Phil
+began to think it probable that he, too, would some day break his
+bonds and run away.  He did not fix upon any time.  He had not
+got as far as this.  But circumstances, as we shall find in our
+next chapter, hastened his determination, and this, though he
+knew it not, was the last night he would sleep in the house of
+the padrone.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+GIACOMO'S PRESENTIMENTS
+
+Phil woke up the next morning feeling lame and sore.  His back
+bore traces of the flogging he had received the night before.  As
+his eyes opened, they rested upon twenty boys lying about him,
+and also upon the dark, unsightly walls of the shabby room, and
+the prospect before him served to depress even his hopeful
+temperament.  But he was not permitted to meditate long.  Pietro
+opened the door, and called out in harsh tones: "Get up, all of
+you, or the padrone will be here with his stick!"
+
+The invitation was heard and obeyed.  The boys got up, yawning
+and rubbing their eyes, having a wholesome dread of their tyrant
+and his stick, which no tenderness of heart ever made him
+reluctant to use.  Their toilet did not require long to make. 
+The padrone was quite indifferent whether they were clean or not,
+and offered them no facilities for washing.
+
+When they were dressed they were supplied with a frugal
+breakfast--a piece of bread and cheese each; their instruments
+were given them, and they were started off for a long day of
+toil.
+
+Phil looked around for Giacomo, who had slept in a different
+room, but he was not to be seen.
+
+"Is Giacomo sick this morning, Pietro?" he asked of the
+padrone's nephew.
+
+"He pretends to be sick, little drone!" said Pietro,
+unfeelingly.  "If I were the padrone, I would let him taste the
+stick again."
+
+Phil felt that he would like to see the brutal speaker suffering
+the punishment he wanted inflicted on him; but he knew Pietro's
+power and malice too well to give utterance to the wish.  A
+longing came to him to see Giacomo before he went out.  He might
+have had a secret presentiment of what was coming.
+
+"Signor Pietro," he said, "may I see Giacomo before I go out?"
+
+This request would have been refused without doubt, but that
+Pietro felt flattered at being addressed as signor, to which his
+years did not yet entitle him.  Phil knew this, and therefore
+used the title. 
+
+"What do you want to see him for?" he asked, suspiciously.
+
+"I want to ask him how he feels."
+
+"Yes, you can go in.  Tell him he must get up to-morrow.  The
+padrone will not let him spend his time in idleness."
+
+So Phil, having already his fiddle under his arm, entered the
+room where Giacomo lay.  The other occupants of the room had
+risen, and the little boy was lying on a hard pallet in the
+corner.  His eyes lighted up with joy as he saw Phil enter.
+
+"I am glad it is you, Filippo," he said; "I thought it was the
+padrone, come to make me get up."
+
+"How do you feel this morning, Giacomo?"
+
+"I do not feel well, Filippo.  My back is sore, and I am so
+weak."
+
+His eyes were very bright with the fever that had now control,
+and his cheeks were hot and flushed.  Phil put his hand upon
+them.
+
+"Your cheeks are very hot, Giacomo," he said.  "You are going to
+be sick."
+
+"I know it, Filippo," said the little boy.  "I may be very sick."
+
+"I hope not, Giacomo."
+
+"Lean over, Filippo," said Giacomo.  "I want to tell you
+something."
+
+Phil leaned over until his ear was close to the mouth of his
+little comrade.
+
+"I think I am going to die, Filippo," whispered Giacomo.
+
+Phil started in dismay.
+
+"No, no, Giacomo," he said; "that is nonsense.  You will live a
+great many years."
+
+"I think you will, Filippo.  You are strong.  But I have always
+been weak, and lately I am tired all the time.  I don't care to
+live--very much.  It is hard to live;" and the little boy sighed
+as he spoke.
+
+"You are too young to die, Giacomo.  It is only because you are
+sick that you think of it.  You will soon be better."
+
+"I do not think so, Filippo.  I should like to live for one
+thing."
+
+"What is that?" asked Phil, gazing with strange wonder at the
+patient, sad face of the little sufferer, who seemed so ready to
+part with the life which, in spite of his privations and
+hardships, seemed so bright to him.
+
+"I should like to go back to my home in Italy, and see my mother
+again before I die.  She loved me."
+
+The almost unconscious emphasis which he laid on the word "she"
+showed that in his own mind he was comparing her with his father,
+who had sold him into such cruel slavery.
+
+"If you live, Giacomo, you will go back and see her some day."
+
+"I shall never see her again, Filippo," said the little boy,
+sadly.  "If you ever go back to Italy-- when you are older--will
+you go and see her, and tell her that--that I thought of her when
+I was sick, and wanted to see her?"
+
+"Yes, Giacomo," said Phil, affected by his little companion's
+manner.
+
+"Filippo!" called Pietro, in harsh tones.
+
+"I must go," said Phil, starting to his feet.
+
+"Kiss me before you go," said Giacomo.
+
+Phil bent over and kissed the feverish lips of the little boy,
+and then hurried out of the room.  He never saw Giacomo again;
+and this, though he knew it not, was his last farewell to his
+little comrade.
+
+So Phil commenced his wanderings.  He was free in one way--he
+could go where he pleased.  The padrone did not care where he
+picked up his money, as long as he brought home a satisfactory
+amount.  Phil turned to go up town, though he had no definite
+destination in view.  He missed Giacomo, who lately had wandered
+about in his company, and felt lonely without him.
+
+"Poor Giacomo!" he thought.  "I hope he will be well soon."
+
+"Avast there, boy!" someone called.  "Just come to anchor, and
+give us a tune."
+
+Phil looked up and saw two sailors bearing down upon him (to use
+a nautical phrase) with arms locked, and evidently with more
+liquor aboard than they could carry steadily.
+
+"Give us a tune, boy, and we'll pay you," said the second.
+
+Phil had met such customers before, and knew what would please
+them.  He began playing some lively dancing tunes, with so much
+effect that the sailors essayed to dance on the sidewalk, much to
+the amusement of a group of boys who collected around them.
+
+"Go it, bluejacket!  Go it, boots!" exclaimed the boys,
+designating them by certain prominent articles of dress.
+
+The applause appeared to stimulate them to further efforts, and
+they danced and jumped high in air, to the hilarious delight of
+their juvenile spectators.  After a time such a crowd collected
+that the attention of a passing policeman was attracted.
+
+"What's all this disturbance?" he demanded, in tones of
+authority.
+
+"We're stretching our legs a little, shipmate," said the first
+sailor.
+
+"Then you'd better stretch them somewhere else than in the
+street."
+
+"I thought this was a free country," hiccoughed the second.
+
+"You'll find it isn't if I get hold of you," said the officer.
+
+"Want to fight?" demanded the second sailor, belligerently.
+
+"Boy, stop playing," said the policeman.  "I don't want to arrest
+these men unless I am obliged to do it."
+
+Phil stopped playing, and this put a stop to the dance.  Finding
+there was no more to be seen, the crowd also dispersed.  With
+arms again interlocked, the sailors were about to resume their
+walk, forgetting to "pay the piper."  But Phil was not at all
+bashful about presenting his claims.  He took off his cap, and
+going up to the jolly pair said, "I want some pennies."
+
+Sailors are free with their money.  Parsimony is not one of their
+vices.  Both thrust their hands into their pockets, and each drew
+out a handful of scrip, which they put into Phil's hands, without
+looking to see how much it might be.
+
+"That's all right, boy, isn't it?" inquired the first.
+
+"All right," answered Phil, wondering at their munificence.  He
+only anticipated a few pennies, and here looked to be as much as
+he was generally able to secure in a day.  As soon as he got a
+good chance he counted it over, and found four half dollars,
+three quarters, and four tens--in all, three dollars and fifteen
+cents.  At this rate, probably, the sailors' money would not last
+long.  However this was none of Phil's business.  It was only
+nine o'clock in the forenoon, and he had already secured enough
+to purchase immunity from blows at night.  Still there was one
+thing unsatisfactory about it.  All this money was to go into the
+hands of the padrone.  Phil himself would reap none of the
+benefit, unless he bought his dinner, as he had purchased supper
+the evening before.  But for this he had been severely punished,
+though he could not feel that he had done very wrong in spending
+the money he himself earned.  However, it would be at least three
+hours before the question of dinner would come up.
+
+He put the money into the pocket of his ragged vest, and walked
+on.
+
+It was not so cold as the day before.  The thermometer had risen
+twenty-five degrees during the night--a great change, but not
+unusual in our variable climate.  Phil rather enjoyed this walk,
+notwithstanding his back was a little lame.
+
+He walked up the Bowery to the point where Third and Fourth
+avenues converge into it.  He kept on the left-hand side, and
+walked up Fourth Avenue, passing the Cooper Institute and the
+Bible House, and, a little further on, Stewart's magnificent
+marble store.  On the block just above stood a book and
+periodical store, kept, as the sign indicated, by Richard
+Burnton.  Phil paused a moment to look in at the windows, which
+were filled with a variety of attractive articles.  Suddenly he
+was conscious of his violin being forcibly snatched from under
+his arm.  He turned quickly, and thought he recognized Tim
+Rafferty, to whom the reader was introduced in the third chapter
+of this story.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+PHIL FINDS A CAPITALIST
+
+To account for Phil's unexpected loss, I must explain that Tim
+Rafferty, whose ordinary place of business was in or near the
+City Hall Park, had been sent uptown on an errand.  He was making
+his way back leisurely, when, just as he was passing Burnton's
+bookstore, he saw Phil looking in at the window.  He immediately
+recognized him as the little Italian fiddler who had refused to
+lend him his fiddle, as described in a previous chapter.  In his
+attempt he was frustrated by Paul Hoffman.  His defeat incensed
+him, and he determined, if he ever met Phil again, to "get even
+with him," as he expressed it.  It struck him that this was a
+good opportunity to borrow his fiddle without leave.
+
+When Phil discovered his loss, he determined to run after the
+thief.
+
+"Give me back my fiddle!" he cried.
+
+But this Tim was in no hurry to do.  As he had longer legs than
+Phil, the chances were that he would escape.  But some distance
+ahead he saw one of the blue-coated guardians of the public
+peace, or, in newsboy parlance, a cop, and saw that Phil could
+easily prove theft against him, as it would be impossible to pass
+himself off as a fiddler.  He must get rid of the violin in some
+way, and the sooner the better.  He threw it into the middle of
+the street, just as a heavy cart was coming along.  The wheels of
+the ponderous vehicle passed over the frail instrument, crushing
+it utterly.  Phil ran forward to rescue his instrument, but too
+late.  It was spoiled beyond recovery.  Phil picked up the pieces
+mechanically, and took them back with him, but he soon realized
+that he might as well cast them away again.  Meanwhile Tim,
+satisfied with the mischief he had done, and feeling revenged for
+his former mortification, walked up a side street, and escaped
+interference.
+
+Phil had come to one of those crises in human experience when it
+is necessary to pause and decide what to do next.  The fiddle was
+not a valuable one--in fact, it was a shabby little
+instrument--but it was Phil's stock in trade.  Moreover, it
+belonged to the padrone, and however innocent Phil might be as
+regarded its destruction, his tyrannical master was sure to call
+him to heavy account for it.  He was certain to be severely
+punished, more so than the evening before, and this was not a
+pleasant prospect to look forward to.  The padrone was sure not
+to forgive an offense like this.
+
+Thinking over these things, a bold suggestion came into Phil's
+mind.  Why need he go back at all?  Why should he not take this
+occasion for breaking his fetters, and starting out into life on
+his own account?  There was nothing alarming in that prospect. 
+He was not afraid but that he could earn his own living, and fare
+better than he did at present, when out of his earnings and those
+of his comrades the padrone was growing rich.  Other boys had run
+away, and though some had been brought back, others had managed
+to keep out of the cruel clutches of their despotic master.
+
+It did not take Phil long to come to a decision.  He felt that he
+should never have a better chance.  He had three dollars in his
+pocket thanks to the generosity of the sailors--and this would
+last him some time.  It would enable him to get out of the city,
+which would be absolutely necessary, since, if he remained, the
+padrone would send Pietro for him and get him back.
+
+There was only one regret he had at leaving the padrone.  It
+would part him from his little comrade, Giacomo.  Giacomo, at
+least, would miss him.  He wished the little boy could have gone
+with him, but this, under present circumstances, was impossible. 
+By staying he would only incur a severe punishment, without being
+able to help his comrade.
+
+It was still but nine o'clock.  He had plenty of time before him,
+as he would not be missed by the padrone until he failed to make
+his appearance at night.  Having no further occasion to go
+uptown, he decided to turn and walk down into the business
+portion of the city.  He accordingly made his way leisurely to
+the City Hall Park, when he suddenly bethought himself of Paul
+Hoffman, who had served as his friend on a former occasion. 
+Besides Giacomo, Paul was the only friend on whom he could rely
+in the city.  Paul was older and had more experience than he, and
+could, no doubt, give him good advice as to his future plans. 
+
+He crossed the Park and Broadway, and kept along on the west side
+of the street until he reached the necktie stand kept by Paul. 
+The young street merchant did not at first see him, being
+occupied with a customer, to whom he finally succeeded in selling
+two neckties; then looking up, he recognized the young fiddler.
+
+"How are you, Phil?" he said, in a friendly manner.  "Where have
+you kept yourself?  I have not seen you for a long time."
+
+"I have been fiddling," said Phil.
+
+"But I don't see your violin now.  What has become of it?"
+
+"It is broken--destroyed," said Phil.
+
+"How did that happen?"
+
+Phil described the manner in which his violin had been stolen.
+
+"Do you know who stole it?"
+
+"It was that boy who tried to take it once in the Park."
+
+"When I stopped him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I know him.  It is Tim Rafferty.  He is a mean boy; I will pay
+him up for it."
+
+"I do not care for it now," said Phil. 
+
+"But what will your padrone say when you come home without it?"
+
+"He would beat me, but I will not go home."
+
+"What will you do?"
+
+"I will run away."
+
+"Good for you, Phil!  I like your spunk," said Paul, heartily. 
+"I wouldn't go back to the old villain if I were you.  Where are
+you going?"
+
+"Away from New York.  If I stay here the padrone would catch me."
+
+"How much did you earn with your fiddle when you had it?"
+
+"Two dollars, if it was a good day."
+
+"That is excellent.  I'll tell you what, Phil, if you could stay
+in the city, I would invite you to come and live with us.  You
+could pay your share of the expense, say three or four dollars a
+week, and keep the rest of your money to buy clothes, and to
+save."
+
+"I should like it," said Phil; "but if I stay in the city the
+padrone would get hold of me."
+
+"Has he any legal right to your services?" asked Paul.
+
+Phil looked puzzled.  He did not understand the question.
+
+"I mean did your father sign any paper giving you to him?"
+
+"Yes," said Phil, comprehending now.
+
+"Then I suppose he could take you back.  You think you must go
+away from the city, then, Phil?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Where do you think of going?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"You might go to Jersey--to Newark, which is quite a large city,
+only ten miles from here."
+
+"I should like to go there."
+
+"I don't think the padrone would send there to find you.  But how
+are you going to make your living--you have lost your fiddle?"
+
+"I can sing."
+
+"But you would make more money with your fiddle."
+
+"Si, signore."
+
+"Don't talk to me in Italian, Phil; I no understand it."
+
+Phil laughed.
+
+"You can speak English much better than most Italian boys."
+
+"Some cannot speak at all.  Some speak french, because we all
+stayed in Paris sometime before we came to America."
+
+"Parlez-vous Francais?"
+
+"Oui, monsieur, un peu."
+
+"Well, I can't.  Those three words are all the French I know. 
+But, I say, Phil, you ought to have a fiddle."
+
+"I should like to have one.  I should make more money."
+
+"How much would one cost?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"I'll tell you what I will do, Phil," said Paul, after a moment's
+thought.  "I know a pawnbroker's shop on Chatham Street where
+there is a fiddle for sale.  I don't think it will cost very
+much; not more than five dollars.  You must buy it."
+
+"I have not five dollars," said Phil.
+
+"Then I will lend you the money.  You shall buy it, and when you
+have earned money enough you shall come back to New York some day
+and pay me."
+
+"Thank you," said Phil, gratefully.  "I will surely pay you."
+
+"Of course you will, Phil," said Paul, confidently.  "I can see
+by your face that you are honest.  I don't believe you would
+cheat your friend."
+
+"I would not cheat you, Signor Paul."
+
+"I see, Phil, you are bound to make an Italian of me.  You may
+just call me Paul, and don't mind about the signor.  Now I'll
+tell you what I propose.  I cannot leave my business for an hour
+and a half.  You can go where you please, but come back at that
+time, and I will take you home to dinner with me.  On the way
+back I will stop with you at the Chatham Street store and ask the
+price of the violin; then, if it doesn't cost too much, I will
+buy it."
+
+"All right," said Phil.
+
+"You must come back at twelve o'clock, Phil."
+
+"I will come."
+
+Phil strolled down to the Battery, feeling a little strange
+without his violin.  He was elated with the thought of his coming
+freedom, and for the first time since he landed in America the
+future looked bright to him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+THE TAMBOURINE GIRL
+
+Arriving at Trinity Church, Phil turned into Wall Street, looking
+about him in a desultory way, for he was at present out of
+business.  Men and boys were hurrying by in different directions,
+to and from banks and insurance offices, while here and there a
+lawyer or lawyer's clerk might be seen looking no less busy and
+preoccupied.  If Phil had had three thousand dollars instead of
+three, he, too, might have been interested in the price of gold
+and stocks; but his financial education had been neglected, and
+he could not have guessed within twenty the day's quotations for
+either.
+
+As he walked along his attention was suddenly drawn to a pair of
+Italians, a man and a girl of twelve, the former turning a
+hand-organ, the latter playing a tambourine.  There was nothing
+unusual in the group; but Phil's heart beat quick for in the girl
+he thought he recognized a playmate from the same village in
+which he was born and bred.
+
+"Lucia!" he called, eagerly approaching the pair.
+
+The girl turned quickly, and, seeing the young fiddler, let fall
+her tambourine in surprise.
+
+"Filippo!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with the joy with
+which we greet a friend's face in a strange land.
+
+"Why did you drop your tambourine, scelerata?" demanded the man,
+harshly.
+
+Lucia, a pretty, brown-faced girl, did not lose her joyful look
+even at this rebuke.  She stooped and picked up the tambourine,
+and began to play mechanically, but continued to speak to
+Filippo.
+
+"How long are you in the city?" asked Phil, speaking, of course,
+in his native language.
+
+"Only two weeks," answered Lucia.  "I am so glad to see you,
+Filippo."
+
+"When did you come from Italy?"
+
+"I cannot tell.  I think it is somewhere about two months."
+
+"And did you see my mother before you came away?" asked Phil,
+eagerly.
+
+"Yes, Filippo, I saw her.  She told me if I saw you to say that
+she longed for her dear boy to return; that she thought of him
+day and night."
+
+"Did she say that, Lucia?"
+
+"Yes, Filippo."
+
+"And is my mother well?" asked Phil, anxiously, for he had a
+strong love for his mother.
+
+"She is well, Filippo--she is not sick, but she is thin, and she
+looks sad."
+
+"I will go and see her some day," said Phil.  "I wish I could see
+her now."
+
+"When will you go?"
+
+"I don't know; when I am older."
+
+"But where is your fiddle, Filippo?" asked Lucia.  "Do you not
+play?"
+
+Filippo glanced at the organ-grinder, whom he did not dare to
+take into his confidence.  So he answered, evasively:
+
+"Another boy took it.  I shall get another this afternoon."
+
+"Are you with the padrone?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Come, Lucia," said the man, roughly, ceasing to play, "we must
+go on."
+
+Lucia followed her companion obediently, reluctant to leave Phil,
+with whom she desired to converse longer; but the latter saw that
+her guardian did not wish the conversation to continue, and so
+did not follow.
+
+This unexpected meeting with Lucia gave him much to think of.  It
+carried back his thoughts to his humble, but still dear, Italian
+home, and the mother from whom he had never met with anything but
+kindness, and a longing to see both made him for the moment
+almost sad.  But he was naturally of a joyous temperament, and
+hope soon returned.
+
+"I will save money enough to go home," he said to himself.  "It
+will not take very much-- not more than fifty dollars.  I can get
+it soon if I do not have to pay money to the padrone."
+
+As may be inferred, Phil did not expect to return home in style. 
+A first-class ticket on a Cunarder was far above his
+expectations.  He would be content to go by steerage all the way,
+and that could probably be done for the sum he named.  So his
+sadness was but brief, and be soon became hopeful again.
+
+He was aroused from his thoughts of home by a hand laid
+familiarly on his shoulder.  Turning, he saw a bootblack, whose
+adventures have been chronicled in the volume called "Ragged
+Dick."  They had become acquainted some three months before, Dick
+having acted as a protector to Phil against some rough boys of
+his own class.
+
+"Been buyin' stocks?" asked Dick.
+
+"I don't know what they are," said Phil, innocently.
+
+"You're a green one," said Dick.  "I shall have to take you into
+my bankin' house and give you some training in business."
+
+"Have you got a bankin' house?" asked Phil, in surprise.
+
+"In course I have.  Don't you see it?" pointing to an
+imposing-looking structure in front of which they were just
+passing.  "My clerks is all hard to work in there, while I go out
+to take the air for the benefit of my constitushun."
+
+Phil looked puzzled, not quite understanding Dick's chaffing, and
+looked rather inquiringly at the blacking box, finding it a
+little difficult to understand why a banker on so large a scale
+should be blacking boots in the street.
+
+"Shine your boots, sir?" said Dick to a gentleman just passing. 
+
+"Not now; I'm in a hurry."
+
+"Blackin' boots is good exercise," continued Dick, answering the
+doubt in Phil's face.  "I do it for the benefit of my health,
+thus combinin' profit with salubriousness."
+
+"I can't understand such long words," said Phil.  "I don't know
+much English."
+
+"I would talk to you in Italian," said Dick, "only it makes my
+head ache.  What's come of your fiddle?  You haven't sold it, and
+bought Erie shares, have you?"
+
+"A boy stole it from me, and broke it."
+
+"I'd like to lick him.  Who was it?"
+
+"I think his name was Tim Rafferty."
+
+"I know him," said Dick.  "I'll give him a lickin' next time I
+see him."
+
+"Can you?" asked Phil, doubtfully, for his enemy was as large as
+Dick.
+
+"In course I can.  My fists are like sledge-hammers.  Jest feel
+my muscle."
+
+Dick straightened out his arm, and Phil felt of the muscle, which
+was hard and firm.
+
+"It's as tough as a ten-year-old chicken," said Dick.  "It won't
+be healthy for Tim to come round my way.  What made him steal
+your fiddle?  He ain't goin' into the musical line, is he?"
+
+"He was angry because I didn't want to lend it to him."
+
+Just then Tim Rafferty himself turned the corner.  There was a
+lull in his business, and he was wandering along the street
+eating an apple.
+
+"There he is," said Phil, suddenly espying his enemy.
+
+Dick looked up, and saw with satisfaction that Phil was right. 
+Tim had not yet espied either, nor did he till Dick addressed
+him.
+
+"Are you round collectin' fiddles this mornin'?" he asked.
+
+Tim looked up, and, seeing that his victim had found an able
+champion, felt anxious to withdraw.  He was about to turn back,
+but Dick advanced with a determined air.
+
+"Jest stop a minute, Tim Rafferty," said he.  "I'm a-goin' to
+intervoo you for the Herald.  That's what they do with all the
+big rascals nowadays."
+
+"I'm in a hurry," said Tim.
+
+"That's what the pickpocket said when the cop was gently
+persuadin' him to go to the Tombs, but the cop didn't see it.  I
+want the pleasure of your society a minute or two.  I hear you're
+in the music business."
+
+"No, I'm not," said Tim, shortly.
+
+"What made you borrer this boy's fiddle, then?"
+
+"I don't know anything about it," said Tim, in a fright.
+
+"Some folks forgets easy," returned Dick.  "I know a man what
+went into Tiffany's and took up a watch to look at, and carried
+it off, forgettin' to pay for it.  That's what he told the judge
+the next day, and the judge sent him to the island for a few
+months to improve his memory.  The air over to the island is very
+good to improve the memory."
+
+"You ought to know," said Tim, sullenly; "you've been there times
+enough."
+
+"Have I?" said Dick.  "Maybe you saw me there.  Was it the ninth
+time you were there, or the tenth?"
+
+"I never was there," said Tim.
+
+"Maybe it was your twin brother."  suggested Dick.  "What made
+you break my friend's fiddle?  He wouldn't have minded it so
+much, only it belonged to his grandfather, a noble count, who
+made boots for a livin'."
+
+"I don't believe he had a fiddle at all," said Tim.
+
+"That's where your forgetfulness comes in," said Dick "Have you
+forgot the lickin' I gave you last summer for stealin' my
+blackin' box?"
+
+"You didn't lick me," said Tim.
+
+"Then I'll lick you harder next time," said Dick.
+
+"You ain't able," said Tim, who, glancing over his shoulder, saw
+the approach of a policeman, and felt secure.
+
+"I will be soon," said Dick, who also observed the approach of
+the policeman.  "I'd do it now, only I've got to buy some gold
+for a friend of mine.  Just let me know when it's perfectly
+convenient to take a lickin'."
+
+Tim shuffled off, glad to get away unharmed, and Dick turned to
+Phil.
+
+"I'll give him a lickin' the first time I catch him, when there
+isn't a cop around," he said.
+
+Phil left his friend at this point, for he saw by the clock on
+Trinity spire that it was time to go back to join Paul Hoffman,
+as he had agreed.  I  may here add that Phil's wrongs were
+avenged that same evening, his friend, Dick, administered to Tim
+the promised "lickin' " with such good effect that the latter
+carried a black eye for a week afterwards.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+PHIL'S NEW PLANS
+
+As the clock struck twelve Phil reached the necktie stand of his
+friend, Paul Hoffman.
+
+"Just in time," said Paul.  "Are you hungry?"
+
+"A little."
+
+"That's right.  You're going to dine with me; and I want you to
+bring a good appetite with you."
+
+"What will your mother say?" asked Phil, doubtfully.
+
+"Wait and see.  If you don't like what she says you can go off
+without eating.  Where have you been?"
+
+"I went down to Wall Street."
+
+"On business?" inquired Paul, with a smile.
+
+"No," said Phil, seriously.  "I saw Lucia."
+
+"Who is she?"
+
+"I forgot.  You don't know Lucia.  She lived in my home in Italy,
+and I used to play with her.  She told me of my mother."
+
+"That's lucky, Phil.  I hope your mother is well."
+
+"She is not sick, but she is thin.  She thinks of me," said Phil.
+
+"Of course she does.  You will go home and see her some day."
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"Of course you will," said Paul, confidently.
+
+"I saw the boy who stole my fiddle," continued Phil.
+
+"Tim Rafferty?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"I was with a bootblack--the one they call 'Ragged Dick.' Do you
+know him?"
+
+"Yes; I know Dick.  He is a bully fellow, always joking."
+
+"Dick wanted to lick him, but a policeman came, and he went
+away."
+
+"Does Dick know that he stole your fiddle?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then he will be sure to punish him.  It will save me the
+trouble." 
+
+The walk was not long.  Soon they were at Paul's door.
+
+"I have brought company to dinner, mother," said Paul, entering
+first.
+
+"I am glad to see you, Phil," said Mrs. Hoffman.  "Why have you
+not come before?"
+
+"How is that, Phil?  Will you stay now?" said Paul.
+
+Mrs. Hoffman looked at Paul inquiringly.
+
+"Phil was afraid he would not be welcome," he exclaimed.
+
+"He is always welcome," said Mrs. Hoffman.
+
+"Where is your fiddle?" asked Jimmy.
+
+"A boy took it," said Phil, "and threw it into the street, and a
+wagon went over it and broke it."
+
+Jimmy was quite indignant for his friend, when the story had been
+told.
+
+"It's lucky for Tim Rafferty that he is not here," said Paul, "or
+he might suffer."
+
+"If I was a big boy I'd lick him," said Jimmy, belligerently.
+
+"I never saw you so warlike before, Jimmy," said Paul.
+
+To Phil this sympathy seemed pleasant.  He felt that he was in
+the midst of friends, and friends were not so plentiful as not to
+be valued.
+
+"What are you going to have for dinner, mother?" asked Paul.
+
+"I am sorry, Paul, that I have no warm meat.  I have some cold
+roast beef, some hot potatoes, and an apple pudding."
+
+"You needn't apologize, mother.  That's good enough for anybody. 
+It's as good as Phil gets at his boarding house, I am sure.  He
+has got rather tired of it, and isn't going to stay."
+
+"Are you going to leave the padrone?" asked  Mrs. Hoffman, with
+interest.
+
+"Si, signora," said Phil.
+
+"Will he let you go?"
+
+"I shall run away," said Phil.
+
+"You see, mother, Phil would be sure of a beating if he went home
+without his fiddle.  Now he doesn't like to be beaten, and the
+padrone gives harder beatings than you do, mother."
+
+"I presume so," said Mrs. Hoffman, smiling.  "I do not think I am
+very severe."
+
+"No, you spoil the rod and spare the child."
+
+"Is Phil going to stay in the city?"
+
+"No; the padrone would get hold of him if he did.  He is going to
+New Jersey to make his fortune."
+
+"But he will need a fiddle."
+
+"I am going to lend him money enough to buy one.  I know a
+pawnbroker who has one for sale.  I think I can get it for three
+or four dollars.  When Phil gets it he is going around giving
+concerts.  How much can you make in a day, Phil?"
+
+"Sometimes I make two dollars," answered Phil.
+
+"That is excellent, especially when you are your own padrone. 
+You will be able to save up money.  You will have to buy a
+pocketbook, Phil."
+
+"Where will you sleep, Phil?" asked Jimmy, interested.
+
+Phil shrugged his shoulders.  He had not thought of that question
+particularly.
+
+"I don't know," he said.  "I can sleep anywhere."
+
+"Of course he will stop at the first-class hotels, Jimmy," said
+Paul, "like all men of distinction.  I shouldn't wonder if he
+married an heiress in six months, and went back to Italy on a
+bridal tour."
+
+"He is too young to be married," said Jimmy, who, it will be
+perceived, understood everything literally.
+
+"I don't know but he is," said Paul, "but he isn't too old to be
+hungry.  So, mother, whenever dinner is ready we shall be."
+
+"It is all ready except peeling the potatoes, Paul."
+
+"We can do that ourselves.  It is good exercise, and will sharpen
+our appetites.  You will have to eat fast or there won't be much
+left.  Jimmy is the most tremendous eater I ever saw, and won't
+leave much for the rest of us, if we give him the chance."
+
+"Now, Paul," expostulated Jimmy, feeling aggrieved at this
+charge, "you know I don't eat as much as you do."
+
+"Hear him talk, Phil.  I don't eat more than enough to keep a fly
+alive."
+
+"It must be a pretty large fly, Paul," said Jimmy, slyly.
+
+"Good joke, Jimmy.  Mother, you must give Jimmy twelve potatoes
+to-day instead of the ten he usually eats."
+
+"Oh, Paul, how can you tell such stories?" exclaimed Jimmy,
+shocked at such an extravagant assertion.  Phil laughed, for
+there was something ludicrous in the idea of Jimmy, who was a
+slight boy of seven, making away with such a large quantity, and
+the little boy began to see that it was a joke at his expense.
+
+The dinner went off well.  All had a good appetite, and did full
+justice to Mrs. Hoffman's cookery.  The pudding in particular was
+pronounced a success.  It was so flaky and well-seasoned, and the
+sauce, flavored with lemon, was so good, that everyone except
+Mrs. Hoffman took a second piece.  For the first time since he
+had left Italy, Phil felt the uncomfortable sensation of having
+eaten too much.  However, with the discomfort was the pleasant
+recollection of a good dinner, and to the mind of the little
+fiddler the future brightened, as it is very apt to do under such
+circumstances, and he felt ready to go out and achieve his
+fortune.
+
+"Why won't you stop with us to-night, Phil, and start on your
+journey to-morrow?" asked Mrs. Hoffman.  "I am sure Jimmy would
+be glad of your company."
+
+"Yes, Phil, stay," said Paul.
+
+Phil hesitated.  It was a tempting invitation, but, on the other
+hand, if he remained in the city till the next day he might be in
+danger from the padrone.
+
+He expressed this fear.
+
+"I am afraid the padrone would catch me," he said.
+
+"No, he won't.  You can go out with me and buy the fiddle now,
+and then come back and play to mother and Jimmy.  To-morrow
+morning I will go with you to the Jersey City Ferry myself, and
+if we meet the padrone, I'll give him a hint to be off."
+
+Phil still hesitated, but finally yielded to the united request. 
+But it was now one o'clock, and Paul must be back to his
+business.  Phil took his cap and went with him to purchase the
+fiddle, promising to come back directly.
+
+They went into Chatham Street, and soon halted before a small
+shop, in front of which were three gilt balls, indicating that it
+was a pawnbroker's shop.
+
+Entering, they found themselves in a small apartment, about
+twelve feet front by twenty in depth, completely filled with
+pawnable articles in great variety a large part, however,
+consisting of clothing; for when the poor have occasion to raise
+money at a pawnbroker's, they generally find little in their
+possession to pawn except their clothing.  Here was a shawls
+pawned for a few shillings by a poor woman whose intemperate
+husband threw the burden of supporting two young children upon
+her.  Next to it was a black coat belonging to a clerk, who had
+been out of employment for three months, and now was out of money
+also.  Here was a child's dress, pawned by the mother in dire
+necessity to save the child from starving.  There was a plain
+gold ring, snatched by a drunken husband from the finger of his
+poor wife, not to buy food, but to gratify his insatiable craving
+for drink.
+
+Over this scene of confusion presided a little old man with blear
+eyes and wrinkled face, but with a sharp glance, fully alive to
+his own interests.  He was an Englishman born, but he had been
+forty years in America.  He will be remembered by those who have
+read "Paul the Peddler."  Though nearly as poverty-stricken in
+appearance as his poorest customers, the old man was rich, if
+reports were true.  His business was a very profitable one,
+allowing the most exorbitant rates of interest, and, being a
+miser, he spent almost nothing on himself, so that his hoards had
+increased to a considerable amount.
+
+He looked up sharply, as Paul and Phil entered, and scanned them
+closely with his ferret-like eyes.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE FASHIONABLE PARTY
+
+Eliakim Henderson, for this was the pawnbroker's name, did not
+remember Paul, though on one occasion our hero had called upon
+him.  Nearly all his customers came to pawn articles, not to
+purchase, and Eliakim naturally supposed that the two boys had
+come on this errand.  Before entering, Paul said to Phil, "Don't
+say anything; leave me to manage."
+
+As they entered, Phil espied a fiddle hanging up behind the
+counter, and he saw at a glance that it was better than the one
+he had been accustomed to play upon.  But to his surprise, Paul
+did not refer to it at first.
+
+"What will you give me on this coat?" asked Paul, indicating the
+one he had on.
+
+He had no intention of selling it, but preferred to come to the
+fiddle gradually, that the pawnbroker might not think that was
+his main object, and so charge an extra price.
+
+Eliakim scanned the garment critically.  It was nearly new and in
+excellent condition, and he coveted it.
+
+"I will give you a dollar," said he, naming a price low enough to
+advance upon.
+
+"That is too little," said Paul, shaking his head.
+
+"I might give you fifty cents more, but I should lose if you
+didn't redeem it."
+
+"I don't think you would.  I paid ten dollars for it."
+
+"But it is old."
+
+"No, it isn't; I have only had it a few weeks."
+
+"How much do you want on it?" asked Eliakim, scanning Paul
+sharply, to see how much he seemed in want of money.
+
+"I don't want any to-day.  If I should want some next week, I
+will come in."
+
+"It will be older next week," said Eliakim, not wanting to lose
+the bargain, for he hoped it would not be redeemed.
+
+"Never mind; I can get along till then."
+
+"Can I do no business with you this morning?" asked Eliakim,
+disappointed.
+
+"I don't know," said Paul, looking carelessly around.  "My friend
+here would like a fiddle, if he can get one cheap.  What do you
+ask for that one up there?"
+
+Eliakim took down the fiddle with alacrity.  He had had it on
+hand for a year without securing a customer.  It had originally
+been pawned by a poor musician, for a dollar and a quarter, but
+the unfortunate owner had never been able to redeem it.  Among
+his customers, the pawnbroker had not found one sufficiently
+musical to take it off his hands.  Here was a slight chance, and
+he determined to effect a sale if he could.
+
+"It is a splendid instrument," he said, enthusiastically, 
+brushing off the dust with a dirty cotton handkerchief.  "I have
+had many chances to sell it."
+
+"Why didn't you sell it, then?" demanded Paul, who did not
+believe a word of this.
+
+"Because it was only pawned.  I kept it for the owner."
+
+"Oh, well; if you can't sell it, it doesn't matter."
+
+"It is for sale now," said Eliakim, quickly.  "He has not come
+for it, and I shall keep it no longer.  Just try it.  See what a
+sp-l-endid instrument it is!" said the pawnbroker, dwelling on
+the adjective to give emphasis to it.
+
+Paul tried it, but not knowing how to play, of course created
+only discord.  He did not offer it to Phil, because the young
+Italian boy would have made it sound too well and so enhanced the
+price.
+
+"It don't sound very well," said he, indifferently; "but I
+suppose it will do to learn on.  What do you want for it?"
+
+"Five dollars," said Eliakim, studying the face of Paul, to
+observe the effect of his announcement.
+
+"Five dollars," repeated Paul.  "Take it back, then, and wait
+till A. T. Stewart wants one.  I haven't got five dollars to
+throw away."
+
+But the pawnbroker did not expect to get his first price.  He
+named it, in order to have a chance to fall.
+
+"Stay," he said, as Paul made a motion to leave; "what will you
+give me for it?"
+
+"I'll give you a dollar and a half," said Paul, turning back.
+
+"A dollar and a half!" exclaimed Eliakim, holding up both hands
+in horror.  "Do you want to ruin me?"
+
+"No, I think you want to ruin me.  I am willing to pay a fair
+price."
+
+"You may have it for three dollars and a half."
+
+"No doubt you'd be glad to get that.  Come, Phil, we'll go."
+
+"Stay; you may have it for three dollars, though I shall lose by
+it."
+
+"So should I, if I paid you that price.  I can wait till some
+other time."
+
+But Eliakim did not intend to let this chance slip.  He had found
+the fiddle rather unsalable, and feared if he lost his chance of
+disposing of it, it might remain on his hands for a year more. 
+He was willing, therefore, to take less than the profit he
+usually calculated upon in the sale of articles which remained
+unredeemed.
+
+"You may have it for two dollars and a half," he said.
+
+As far as Paul could judge, though he did not know much about the
+price of violins, this was a reasonable price.  But he knew that
+Eliakim must have got it for considerably less, or he would not
+so soon have come down to this sum.  He did not hesitate,
+therefore, to try to get it a little cheaper.
+
+"I'll give you two dollars and a quarter," he said, "and not a
+penny more."
+
+Eliakim tried hard to get ten cents more, but Paul saw that he
+was sure of his purchase, and remained obdurate.  So, after a
+pretense of putting up the fiddle, the pawnbroker finally said,
+"You may have it, but I tell you that I shall lose money."
+
+"All right," said Paul; "hand it over."
+
+"Where is the money?" asked Eliakim, cautiously.
+
+Paul drew from his pocket a two-dollar bill and twenty-five cents
+in currency, and received the fiddle.  The pawnbroker scrutinized
+the money closely, fearing that it might be bad; but finally,
+making up his mind on that point, deposited it in his money
+drawer.
+
+"Well, Phil, we may as well go," said Paul.  "We've got through
+our business."
+
+The pawnbroker heard this, and a sudden suspicion entered his
+mind that Paul had been too sharp for him.
+
+"I might have got twenty-five cents more," he thought
+regretfully; and this thought disturbed the complacency he felt
+at first.
+
+"Well, Phil, how do you like it?" asked Paul, as they emerged
+into the street.
+
+"Let me try it," said Phil, eagerly.
+
+He struck up a tune, which he played through, his face expressing
+the satisfaction he felt.
+
+"Is it as good as your old one?"
+
+"It is much better," said Phil.  "I will pay you for it;" and he
+drew out the money the sailors had given him in the morning.
+
+"No, Phil," said his friend, "you may need that money.  Keep it,
+and pay me when you have more."
+
+"But I shall be away."
+
+"You will come to the city some day.  When you do you will know
+where to find me.  Now go and play a tune to Jimmy.  He is
+waiting for you.  If you remain in the streets, your old enemy,
+Tim Rafferty, may want to borrow your fiddle again."
+
+"You are very kind to me, Paolo," said Phil, raising his dark
+eyes with a sudden impulse of gratitude.
+
+"It's nothing, Phil," said Paul, modestly; "you would do the same
+for me if I needed it."
+
+"Yes, I would," said Phil; "but I am poor, and I cannot help
+you."
+
+"You won't be poor always, Phil," said Paul, cheerfully, "nor I
+either, I hope.  I mean to be a merchant some time on a bigger
+scale than now.  As for you, you will be a great player, and give
+concerts at the Academy of Music."
+
+Phil laughed, but still seemed pleased at the prophecy.
+
+"Well, Phil, I must bid you good-by for a little while, or my
+clerks will be cheating me.  I will see you at supper."
+
+"Addio, Paolo," said Phil.
+
+"Addio," said Paul, laughing.  "Wouldn't I make a good Italian?"
+
+Paul returned to his stand, and Phil took the direction of Mrs.
+Hoffman's rooms.  While on his way he heard the sound of a
+hand-organ, and, looking across the way, saw, with some
+uneasiness, his old enemy Pietro, playing to a crowd of boys.
+
+"I hope he won't see me," said Phil to himself.
+
+He was afraid Pietro would remember his old violin, and, seeing
+the difference in the instrument he now had, inquire how he got
+it.  He might, if not satisfied on this point, take Phil home
+with him, which would be fatal to his plans.  He thought it
+prudent, therefore, to turn down the next street, and get out of
+sight as soon as possible.  Fortunately for him Pietro had his
+back turned, so that he did not observe him.  Nothing would have
+pleased him better than to get the little fiddler into trouble,
+for, besides being naturally malicious, he felt that an
+exhibition of zeal in his master's service would entitle him to
+additional favors at the hands of the padrone, whom he hoped some
+day to succeed.
+
+"Oh, what a beautiful fiddle!" said Jimmy, in admiration, as
+Phil reappeared.  "Do you think I could play on it?"
+
+Phil shook his head, smiling.
+
+"Don't let Jimmy have it.  He would only spoil it," said Mrs.
+Hoffman.  "I don't think he would succeed as well in music as in
+drawing."
+
+"Will you play something?" asked Jimmy.
+
+Phil willingly complied, and for half an hour held Jimmy
+entranced with his playing.  The little boy then undertook to
+teach Phil how to draw, but at this Phil probably cut as poor a
+figure as his instructor would have done at playing on the
+violin.
+
+So the afternoon wore away, happily for all three, and at five
+Paul made his appearance.  When supper was over Phil played
+again, and this attracting the attention of the neighbors, Mrs.
+Hoffman's rooms were gradually filled with visitors, who finally
+requested Phil to play some dancing tunes.  Finding him able to
+do so, an impromptu dance was got up, and Mrs. Hoffman,
+considerably to her surprise, found that she was giving a
+dancing-party.  Paul, that nothing might be left out, took a
+companion with him and they soon reappeared with cake and ice
+cream, which were passed around amid great hilarity; and it was
+not until midnight that the last visitor went out, and the sound
+of music and laughter was hushed.
+
+"You are getting fashionable in your old age, mother," said Paul,
+gayly.  "I think I shall send an account of your party to the
+Home Journal."
+
+"I believe it is usual to describe the dresses of the ladies,"
+said Mrs. Hoffman, smiling.
+
+"Oh, yes, I won't forget that.  Just give me a piece of paper
+and see how I will do it."
+
+Paul, whose education, I repeat here, was considerably above that
+of most boys in his position, sat down and hastily wrote the
+following description, which was read to the great amusement of
+his auditors
+
+"Mrs. Hoffman, mother of the well-known artist, Jimmy Hoffman,
+Esq., gave a fashionable party last evening.  Her spacious and
+elegant apartments were crowded with finely dressed gentlemen and
+ladies from the lower part of the city.  Signor Filippo, the
+great Italian musician, furnished the music.  Mrs. Hoffman
+appeared in a costly calico dress, and had a valuable gold ring
+on one of her fingers.  Her son, the artist, was richly dressed
+in a gray suit, purchased a year since.  Miss Bridget Flaherty,
+of Mott Street, was the belle of the occasion, and danced with
+such grace and energy that the floor came near giving away
+beneath her fairy tread.  [Miss Flaherty, by the way, weighed one
+hundred and eighty pounds.]  Mr. Mike Donovan, newspaper
+merchant, handed round refreshments with his usual graceful and
+elegant deportment.  Miss Matilda Wiggins appeared in a
+magnificent print dress, imported from Paris by A. T. Stewart,
+and costing a shilling a yard.  No gloves were worn, as they are
+now dispensed with in the best society.  At a late hour the
+guests dispersed.  Mrs. Hoffman's party will long be remembered
+as the most brilliant of the season."
+
+"I did not know you had so much talent for reporting, Paul," said
+his mother.  "You forgot one thing, however."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"You said nothing of yourself."
+
+"I was too modest, mother.  However, if you insist upon it, I
+will do so.  Anything at all to please you."
+
+Paul resumed his writing and in a short time had the following:
+
+"Among those present we observed the handsome and accomplished
+Paul Hoffman, Esq., the oldest son of the hostess.  He was
+elegantly dressed in a pepper-and-salt coat and vest, blue
+necktie, and brown breeches, and wore a six-cent diamond
+breastpin in the bosom of his shirt.  His fifteen-cent
+handkerchief was perfumed with cologne which he imported himself
+at a cost of ten cents per bottle.  He attracted general
+admiration."
+
+"You seem to have got over your modesty, Paul," said his mother. 
+
+"I am sleepy," said Jimmy, drowsily rubbing his eyes.
+
+As this expressed the general feeling, they retired to bed at
+once, and in half an hour were wandering in the land of dreams.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE PADRONE IS ANXIOUS
+
+The next morning Paul and Phil rose later that usual.  They slept
+longer, in order to make up for the late hour at which they
+retired.  As they sat down to breakfast, at half-past eight, Paul
+said: "I wonder whether the padrone misses you, Phil?"
+
+"Yes," said Phil; "he will be very angry because I did not come
+back last night."
+
+"Will he think you have run away?"
+
+"I do not know.  Some of the boys stay away sometimes, because
+they are too far off to come home."
+
+"Then he may expect you to-night.  I suppose he will have a
+beating ready for you."
+
+"Yes, he would beat me very hard," said Phil, "if he thought I
+did not mean to come back."
+
+"I should like to go and tell him that he need not expect you.  I
+should like to see how he looks."
+
+"He might beat you, too, Paolo." 
+
+"I should like to see him try it," said Paul, straightening up
+with a consciousness of strength.  "He might find that rather
+hard."
+
+Phil looked admiringly at the boy who was not afraid of the
+padrone.  Like his comrades, he had been accustomed to think of
+the padrone as possessed of unlimited power, and never dreamed of
+anybody defying him, or resisting his threats.  Though he had
+determined to run away, his soul was not free from the tyranny of
+his late taskmaster, and he thought with uneasiness and dread of
+the possibility of his being conveyed back to him.
+
+"Well, mother," said Paul, glancing at the clock as he rose from
+the breakfast table, "it is almost nine o'clock--rather a late
+hour for a business man like me."
+
+"You are not often so late, Paul."
+
+"It is lucky that I am my own employer, or I might run the risk
+of being discharged.  I am afraid the excuse that I was at Mrs.
+Hoffman's fashionable party would not be thought sufficient.  I
+guess I won't have time to stop to shave this morning."
+
+"You haven't got anything to shave," said Jimmy.
+
+"Don't be envious, Jimmy.  I counted several hairs this morning. 
+Well, Phil, are you ready to go with me?  Don't forget your
+fiddle."
+
+"When shall we see you again, Philip?" said Mrs. Hoffman.
+
+"I do not know," said the little minstrel.
+
+"Shall you not come to the city sometimes?"
+
+"I am afraid the padrone would catch me," said Phil.
+
+"Whenever you do come, Phil," said Paul, "come right to me.  I
+will take care of you.  I don't think the padrone will carry us
+both off, and he would have to take me if he took you."
+
+"Good-by, Philip," said Mrs, Hoffman, offering her hand.  "I hope
+you will prosper."
+
+"So do I, Phil," said Jimmy.
+
+Phil thus took with him the farewells and good wishes of two
+friends who had been drawn to him by his attractive face and good
+qualities.  He could not help wishing that he might stay with
+them permanently, but he knew that this could not be.  To remain
+in the same city with the padrone was out of the question.
+
+Meanwhile we return to the house which Phil had forsaken, and
+inquire what effect was produced by his non-appearance.
+
+It was the rule of the establishment that all the boys should be
+back by midnight.  Phil had generally returned an hour before
+that time.  When, therefore, it was near midnight, the padrone
+looked uneasily at the clock.
+
+"Have you seen Filippo?" he asked, addressing his nephew.
+
+"No, signore," answered Pietro.  "Filippo has not come in."
+
+"Do you think he has run away?" asked the padrone, suspiciously.
+
+"I don't know," said Pietro.
+
+"Have you any reason to think he intended to run away?"
+
+"No," said Pietro.
+
+"I should not like to lose him.  He brings me more money than
+most of the boys."
+
+"He may come in yet."
+
+"When he does," said the padrone, frowning, "I will beat him for
+being so late.  Is there any boy that he would be likely to tell,
+if he meant to run away?"
+
+"Yes," said Pietro, with a sudden thought, "there is Giacomo."
+
+"The sick boy?"
+
+"Yes.  Filippo went in this morning to speak to him.  He might
+have told him then."
+
+"That is true.  I will go and ask him."
+
+Giacomo still lay upon his hard pallet, receiving very little
+attention.  His fever had increased, and he was quite sick.  He
+rolled from one side to the other in his restlessness.  He needed
+medical attention, but the padrone was indifferent, and none of
+the boys would have dared to call a doctor without his
+permission.  As he lay upon his bed, the padrone entered the room
+with a hurried step.
+
+"Where is Giacomo?" he demanded, harshly.
+
+"Here I am, signore padrone," answered the little boy, trembling,
+as he always did when addressed by the tyrant.
+
+"Did Filippo come and speak with you this morning, before he went
+out?"
+
+"Si, signore."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"He asked me how I felt."
+
+"What did you tell him?"
+
+"I told him I felt sick."
+
+"Nothing more?"
+
+"I told him I thought I should die.'
+
+"Nonsense!" said the padrone, harshly; "you are a coward.  You
+have a little cold, that is all.  Did he say anything about
+running away?"
+
+"No, signore."
+
+"Don't tell me a lie!" said the tyrant, frowning.
+
+"I tell you the truth, signore padrone.  Has not Filippo come
+home?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I do not think he has run away," said the little boy.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I think he would tell me."
+
+"So you two are friends, are you?"
+
+"Si, signore; I love Filippo," answered Giacomo, speaking the
+last words tenderly, and rather to himself than to the padrone. 
+He looked up to Phil, though little older than himself, with a
+mixture of respect and devotion, leaning upon him as the weak are
+prone to lean upon the strong.
+
+"Then you will be glad to hear," said the padrone, with a
+refinement of cruelty, "that I shall beat him worse than last
+night for staying out so late."
+
+"Don't beat him, padrone," pleaded Giacomo, bursting into tears. 
+"Perhaps he cannot come home."
+
+"Did he ever speak to you of running away?" asked the padrone,
+with a sudden thought.
+
+Giacomo hesitated.  He could not truthfully deny that Filippo had
+done so, but he did not want to get his friend into trouble.  He
+remained silent, looking up at the tyrant with troubled eyes.
+
+"Why do you not speak?  Did you hear my question?" asked the
+padrone, with a threatening gesture.
+
+Had the question been asked of some of the other boys present,
+they would not have scrupled to answer falsely; but Giacomo had a
+religious nature, and, neglected as he had been, he could not
+make up his mind to tell a falsehood.  So, after a pause, he
+faltered out a confession that Phil had spoken of flight.
+
+"Do you hear that, Pietro?" said the padrone, turning to his
+nephew.  "The little wretch has doubtless run away."
+
+"Shall I look for him to-morrow?" asked Pietro, with alacrity,
+for to him it would be a congenial task to drag Phil home, and
+witness the punishment.
+
+"Yes, Pietro.  I will tell you where to go in the morning.  We
+must have him back, and I will beat him so that he will not dare
+to run away again."
+
+The padrone would have been still more incensed could he have
+looked into Mrs. Hoffman's room and seen the little fiddler the
+center of a merry group, his brown face radiant with smiles as he
+swept the chords of his violin.  It was well for Phil that he
+could not see him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+PHIL ELUDES HIS PURSUER
+
+Phil had already made up his mind where to go.  Just across the
+river was New Jersey, with its flourishing towns and cities,
+settled to a large extent by men doing business in New York.  The
+largest of these cities was Newark, only ten miles distant. 
+There Phil decided to make his first stop.  If he found himself
+in danger of capture he could easily go farther.  This plan Paul
+approved, and it was to be carried into execution immediately.
+
+"I will go down to the Cortlandt Street Ferry with you, Phil,"
+said Paul.
+
+"I should like to have you, if it will not take you from your
+business, Paolo."
+
+"My business can wait," said Paul.  "I mean to see you safe out
+of the city.  The padrone may be in search of you already."
+
+"I think he will send Pietro to find me," said Phil.
+
+"Who is Pietro?"
+
+Phil explained that Pietro was the padrone's nephew and assisted
+in oppressing the boys.
+
+"I hope he will send him," said Paul.
+
+Phil looked up in surprise.
+
+"I should like to see this Pietro.  What would he do if he should
+find you?"
+
+"He would take me back."
+
+"If you did not want to go?"
+
+"I couldn't help it," said Phil, shrugging his shoulders.  "He is
+much bigger than I."
+
+"Is he bigger than I am?"
+
+"I think he is as big."
+
+"He isn't big enough to take you away if I am with you."
+
+Paul did not say this boastfully, but with a quiet confidence in
+his own powers in which he was justified.  Though by no means
+quarrelsome, he had on several occasions been forced in
+self-defense into a contest with boys of his own size, and in
+some instances larger, and in every case he had acquitted himself
+manfully, and come off victorious.
+
+"I should not be afraid if you were with me, Paolo," said Phil.
+
+"You are right, Phil," said Paul, approvingly.  "But here we are
+at the ferry."
+
+Cortlandt Street is a short distance below the Astor House, and
+leads to the ferry, connecting on the other side with trains
+bound for Philadelphia and intermediate places.
+
+Paul paid the regular toll, and passed through the portal with
+Phil.
+
+"Are you going with me?" asked the little fiddler, in surprise.
+
+"Only to Jersey City, Phil.  There might be some of your friends
+on board the boat.  I want to see you safe on the cars.  Then I
+must leave you."
+
+"You are very kind, Paolo."
+
+"You are a good little chap, Phil, and I mean to help you.  But
+the boat is about ready to start.  Let us go on board."
+
+They walked down the pier, and got on the boat a minute before it
+started.  They did not pass through to the other end, but,
+leaning against the side, kept their eyes fixed on the city they
+were about to leave.  They had not long to wait.  The signal was
+heard, and the boat started leisurely from the pier.  It was but
+ten feet distant, when the attention of Paul and Phil was drawn
+to a person running down the drop in great haste.  He evidently
+wanted to catch the boat, but was too late.
+
+Phil clutched at Paul's arm, and pointed to him in evident
+excitement.
+
+"It is Pietro," he said.
+
+At that moment Pietro, standing on the brink, caught sight of the
+boy he was pursuing, looking back at him from the deck of the
+ferry-boat.  A look of exultation and disappointment swept over
+his face as he saw Phil, but realized that he was out of his
+reach.  He had a hand-organ with him, and this had doubtless
+encumbered him, and prevented his running as fast as he might
+otherwise.
+
+"So that is Pietro, is it?" said Paul, regarding him attentively
+in order to fix his face in his memory.
+
+"Yes, Paolo," said Phil, his eyes fixed nervously upon his
+pursuer, who maintained his place, and was watching him with
+equal attention.
+
+"You are not frightened, Phil, are you?"
+
+Phil admitted that he was.
+
+"He will come over in the next boat," he said.
+
+"But he will not know where you are."
+
+"He will seek me."
+
+"Will he?  Then I think he will be disappointed.  The cars will
+start on the other side before the next boat arrives.  I found
+out about that before we started."
+
+Phil felt relieved by this intelligence, but still he was
+nervous.  Knowing well Pietro's malice, he dreaded the chances of
+his capturing him.
+
+"He stays there.  He does not go away," said Phil.
+
+"It will do him no good, Phil.  He is like a cat watching a
+canary bird beyond his reach.  I don't think he will catch you
+to-day."
+
+"He may go in the cars, too," suggested Phil.
+
+"That is true.  On the whole, Phil, when you get to Newark, I
+advise you to walk into the country.  Don't stay in the city.  He
+might find you there."
+
+"I will do what you say, Paolo.  It will be better."
+
+They soon reached the Jersey shore.  The railroad station was
+close by.  They went thither at once, and Phil bought a ticket
+for Newark.
+
+"How soon will the cars start?" inquired Paul of a railway
+official.
+
+"In five minutes," was the answer.
+
+"Then, Phil, I advise you to get into the cars at once.  Take a
+seat on the opposite side, though there is no chance of your
+being seen by Pietro, who will get here too late.  Still, it is
+best to be on the safe side.  I will stay near the ferry and
+watch Pietro when he lands.  Perhaps I will have a little
+conversation with him."
+
+"I will go, Paolo."
+
+"Well, good-by, Phil, and good luck," said Paul, cheerfully.  "If
+you ever come to New York, come to see me."
+
+"Yes, Paolo, I will be sure to come."
+
+"And, Phil, though I don't think you will ever fall into the
+power of that old brute again (I am sure you won't if you take
+good care of yourself), still, if he does get you back again,
+come to me the first chance you get, and I will see what I can do
+for you."
+
+"Thank you, Paolo.  I will remember your kindness always," said
+the little fiddler, gratefully
+
+"That is all right, Phil.  Good-by!"
+
+"Good-by!" said Phil, and, shaking the hand of his new friend,
+he ascended the steps, and took  a seat on the opposite side, as
+Paul had recommended.
+
+"I am sorry to part with Phil," said Paul to himself.  "He's a
+fine little chap, and I like him.  If ever that old brute gets
+hold of him again, he shan't keep him long.  Now, Signor Pietro,
+I'll go back and see you on your arrival."
+
+Phil was right in supposing that Pietro would take passage on the
+next boat.  He waited impatiently on the drop till it touched,
+and sprang on board.  He cursed the interval of delay, fearing
+that it would give Phil a chance to get away.  However, there was
+no help for this.  Time and tide wait for no man, but it often
+happens that we are compelled to wait for them.  But at length
+the boat touched the Jersey shore, and Pietro sprang out and
+hurried to the gates, looking eagerly on all sides for a possible
+glimpse of the boy he sought.  He did not see him, for the cars
+were already on their way, but his eyes lighted up with
+satisfaction as they lighted on Paul, whom he recognized as the
+companion of Phil.  He had seen him talking to the little
+fiddler.  Probably he would know where he had gone.  He walked up
+to Paul, who was standing near, and,  touching his cap, said:
+"Excuse me, signore, but have you seen my little brother?"
+
+"Your little brother?" repeated Paul, deliberately.
+
+"Si, signore, a little boy with a fiddle.  He was so high;" and
+Pietro indicated the height of Phil correctly by his hand.
+
+"There was a boy came over in the boat with me," said Paul.
+
+"Yes, yes; he is the one, signore," said Pietro, eagerly.
+
+"And he is your brother?"
+
+"Si, signore."
+
+"That's a lie," thought Paul, "I should know it even if Phil had
+not told me.  Phil is a handsome little chap.  He wouldn't have
+such a villainous-looking brother as you."
+
+"Can you tell me where he has gone?" asked Pietro, eagerly.
+
+"Didn't he tell you where he was going?" asked Paul, in turn.
+
+"I think he means to run away," said Pietro.  "Did you see where
+he went?"
+
+"Why should he want to run away?" asked Paul.  who enjoyed
+tantalizing Pietro, who he saw was chafing with impatience.  "Did
+you not treat him well?"
+
+"He is a little rascal," said Pietro.  "He is treated well, but
+he is a thief."
+
+"And you are his brother," repeated Paul, significantly.
+
+"Did you see where he went?" asked Pietro, getting angry.  "I
+want to take him back to his father."
+
+"How should I know?" returned Paul, coolly.  "Do you think I
+have nothing to do but to look after your brother?"
+
+"Why didn't you tell me that before?" said Pietro, incensed.
+
+"Don't get mad," said Paul, indifferently; "it won't do you any
+good.  Perhaps, if you look round, you will see your brother. 
+I'll tell him you want him if I see him."
+
+Pietro looked at Paul suspiciously.  It struck him that the
+latter might be making a fool of him, but Paul looked so utterly
+indifferent that he could judge nothing from his appearance.  He
+concluded that Phil was wandering about somewhere in Jersey City.
+
+It did not occur to him that he might have taken the cars for
+some more distant place.  At any rate, there seemed no chance of
+getting any information out of Paul.  So he adjusted his
+hand-organ and walked up the street leading from the ferry,
+looking sharply on either side, hoping to catch a glimpse of the
+runaway; but, of course, in vain.
+
+"I don't think you'll find Phil to-day, Signor Pietro," said Paul
+to himself, as he watched his receding form.  "Now, as there is
+nothing more to be done here, I will go back to business."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+PIETRO'S PURSUIT
+
+The distance from New York to Newark is but ten miles.  Phil had
+been there once before with an older boy.  He was at no loss,
+therefore, as to the proper place to get out.  He stepped from
+the cars and found himself in a large depot.  He went out of a
+side door, and began to wander about the streets of Newark.  Now,
+for the first time, he felt that he was working for himself, and
+the feeling was an agreeable one.  True, he did not yet feel
+wholly secure.  Pietro might possibly follow in the next train. 
+He inquired at the station when the next train would arrive.
+
+"In an hour," was the reply.
+
+It would be an hour, therefore, before Pietro could reach Newark.
+
+He decided to walk on without stopping till he reached the
+outskirts of the city, and not venture back till nightfall, when
+there would be little or no danger.
+
+Accordingly he plodded on for an hour and a half, till he came
+where the houses were few and scattered at intervals.  In a
+business point of view this was not good policy, but safety was
+to be consulted first of all.  He halted at length before a
+grocery store, in front of which he saw a small group of men
+standing.  His music was listened to with attention, but when he
+came to pass his cap round afterward the result was small.  In
+fact, to be precise, the collection amounted to but eight cents.
+
+"How's business, boy?" asked a young man who stood at the door
+in his shirt-sleeves, and was evidently employed in the grocery.
+
+"That is all I have taken," said Phil, showing the eight cents.
+
+"Did you come from New York this morning?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then you haven't got enough to pay for your ticket yet?"
+
+Phil shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I don't believe you'll make your fortune out here."
+
+Phil was of precisely the same opinion, but kept silent.
+
+"You would have done better to stay in New York."
+
+To this also Phil mentally assented, but there were imperative
+reasons, as we know, for leaving the great city.
+
+It was already half-past twelve, and Phil began, after his walk,
+to feel the cravings of appetite.  He accordingly went into the
+grocery and bought some crackers and cheese, which he sat down by
+the stove and ate.
+
+"Are you going farther?" asked the same young man who had
+questioned him before.
+
+"I shall go back to Newark to-night," said Phil.
+
+"Let me try your violin."
+
+"Can you play?" asked Phil, doubtfully, for he feared that an
+unpracticed player might injure the instrument.
+
+"Yes, I can play.  I've got a fiddle at home myself."
+
+Our hero surrendered his fiddle to the young man, who played
+passably.
+
+"You've got a pretty good fiddle," he said.  "I think it's better
+than mine.  Can you play any dancing tunes?"
+
+Phil knew one or two, and played them.
+
+"If you were not going back to Newark, I should like to have you
+play with me this evening.  I don't have anybody to practice
+with."
+
+"I would not know where to sleep," said Phil, hesitatingly.
+
+"Oh, we've got beds enough in our house.  Will you stay?"
+
+Phil reflected that he had no place to sleep in Newark except
+such as he might hire, and decided to accept the offer of his new
+friend.
+
+"This is my night off from the store," he said.  "I haven't got
+to come back after supper.  Just stay around here till six
+o'clock.  Then I'll take you home and give you some supper, and
+then we'll play this evening."
+
+Phil had no objection to this arrangement.  In fact, it promised
+to be an agreeable one for him.  As he was sure of a supper, a
+bed and breakfast, there was no particular necessity for him to
+earn anything more that day.  However, he went out for an hour or
+two, and succeeded in collecting twenty-five cents.  He realized,
+however, that it was not so easy to pick up pennies in the
+country as in the city--partly because population is sparser and
+partly because, though there is less privation in the country,
+there is also less money.
+
+A little before six Phil's new friend, whose name he ascertained
+was Edwin Grover, washed his hands, and, putting on his coat,
+said "Come along, Phil."
+
+Phil, who had been sitting near the stove, prepared to accompany
+him.
+
+"We haven't got far to go," said Edwin, who was eighteen.  "I am
+glad of that, for the sooner I get to the supper table the
+better."
+
+After five minutes' walk they stopped at a comfortable two-story
+house near the roadside.
+
+"That's where I put up," said Edwin.
+
+He opened the door and entered, followed by Phil, who felt a
+little bashful, knowing that he was not expected.
+
+"Have you got an extra plate, mother?" asked Edwin.  "This is a
+professor of the violin, who is going to help me make some music
+this evening."
+
+"He is welcome," said Mrs. Grover, cheerfully, "We can make room
+for him.  He is an Italian, I suppose.  What is your name?"
+
+"Filippo."
+
+"I will call you Philip.  I suppose that is the English name. 
+Will you lay down your violin and draw up to the fire?"
+
+"I am not cold," said Phil.
+
+"He is not cold, he is hungry, as Ollendorf says," said Edwin,
+who had written a few French exercises according to Ollendorf's
+system.  "Is supper almost ready?"
+
+"It will be ready at once.  There is your father coming in at the
+front gate, and Henry with him."
+
+Mr. Grover entered, and Phil made the acquaintance of the rest of
+the family.  He soon came to feel that he was a welcome guest,
+and shared in the family supper, which was well cooked and
+palatable.  Then Edwin brought out his fiddle, and the two played
+various tunes.  Phil caught one or two new dancing tunes from his
+new friend, and in return taught him an Italian air.  Three or
+four people from a neighboring family came in, and a little
+impromptu dance was got up.  So the evening passed pleasantly,
+and at half-past ten they went to bed, Phil sleeping in a little
+room adjoining that in which the brothers Edwin and Harry slept.
+
+After breakfast the next morning Phil left the house, with a
+cordial invitation to call again when he happened to be passing.
+
+Before proceeding with his adventures, we must go back to Pietro.
+
+He, as we know, failed to elicit any information from Paul likely
+to guide him in his pursuit of Phil.  He was disappointed. 
+Still, he reflected that Phil had but a quarter of an hour's
+start of him--scarcely that, indeed-- and if he stopped to play
+anywhere, he would doubtless easily find him.  There was danger,
+of course, that he would turn off somewhere, and Pietro judged it
+best to inquire whether such a boy had passed.
+
+Seeing two boys playing in the street, he inquired: "Have you
+seen anything of my little brother?"
+
+"What does he look like?" inquired one.
+
+"He is not quite so large as you.  He had a fiddle with him."
+
+"No, I haven't seen him.  Have you, Dick?"
+
+"Yes," said the other, "there was a boy went along with a
+fiddle."
+
+This was true, but, as we know, it was not Phil.
+
+"Did you see where he went?" demanded Pietro, eagerly.
+
+"Straight ahead," was the reply.
+
+Lured by the delusive hope these words awakened, Pietro went on. 
+He did not stop to play on his organ.  He was too intent on
+finding Phil.  At length, at a little distance before him, he saw
+a figure about the size of Phil, playing on the violin.  He
+hurried forward elated, but when within a few yards he discovered
+to his disappointment that it was not Phil, but a little fiddler
+of about his size.  He was in the employ of a different padrone. 
+He was doubtless the one the boy had seen.
+
+Disappointed, Pietro now turned back, and bent his steps to the
+ferry.  But he saw nothing of Phil on the way.
+
+"I would like to beat him, the little wretch!" he said to
+himself, angrily.  "If I had not been too late for the boat, I
+would have easily caught him."
+
+It never occurred to Pietro that Phil might have taken the cars
+for a more distant point, as he actually did.  The only thing he
+could think of, for he was not willing to give up the pursuit,
+was to go back.  He remained in Jersey City all day, wandering
+about the streets, peering here and there; but he did not find
+Phil, for a very good reason.
+
+The padrone awaited his report at night with some impatience. 
+Phil was one of the smartest boys he had, and he had no mind to
+lose him.
+
+"Did you find him, Pietro?" he asked as soon as his nephew
+entered his presence.
+
+"I saw him," said Pietro.
+
+"Then why did you not bring him back?"
+
+Pietro explained the reason.  His uncle listened attentively.
+
+"Pietro, you are a fool," he said, at length.
+
+"Why am I a fool?" asked Pietro, sullenly.
+
+"Because you sought Filippo where he is not."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"He did not stop in Jersey City.  He went farther.  He knew that
+you were on his track.  Did you ask at the station if such a boy
+bought a ticket?"
+
+"I did not think of it."
+
+"Then you were a fool."
+
+"What do you want me to do?"
+
+"To-morrow you must go to Newark.  That is the first large town. 
+I must have Filippo back."
+
+"I will go," said Pietro, briefly.
+
+He was mortified at the name applied to him by his uncle, as well
+as by the fact of Phil's having thus far outwitted him.  He
+secretly determined that when he did get him into his power he
+would revenge himself for all the trouble to which he had been
+put, and there was little doubt that he would keep his word.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+PIETRO'S DISAPPOINTMENT
+
+Though Phil had not taken in much money during the first day of
+independence, he had more than paid his expenses.  He started on
+the second day with a good breakfast, and good spirits.  He
+determined to walk back to Newark, where he might expect to
+collect more money than in the suburbs.  If he should meet Pietro
+he determined not to yield without a struggle.  But he felt
+better now than at first, and less afraid of the padrone.
+
+Nine o'clock found him again in Newark.  He soon came to a halt,
+and began to play.  A few paused to listen, but their interest in
+music did not extend so far as to affect their pockets.  Phil
+passed around his hat in vain.  He found himself likely to go
+unrewarded for his labors.  But just then he noticed a carriage
+with open door, waiting in front of a fashionable dry-goods
+store.  Two ladies had just come out and taken their seats
+preparatory to driving off, when Phil stepped up bareheaded and
+held his cap.  He was an unusually attractive boy, and as he
+smiled one of the ladies, who was particularly fond of children,
+noticed him.
+
+"What a handsome boy!" she said to her companion.
+
+"Some pennies for music," said Phil.
+
+"How old are you?" asked the lady.
+
+"Twelve years."
+
+"Just the age of my Johnny.  If I give you some money what will
+you do with it?"
+
+"I will buy dinner," said Phil.
+
+"I never give to vagrants," said the second lady, a spinster of
+uncertain age, who did not share her niece's partiality for
+children.
+
+"It isn't his fault if he is a vagrant, Aunt Maria," said the
+younger lady.
+
+"I have no doubt he is a thief," continued Aunt Maria, with
+acerbity.
+
+"I am not a thief," said Phil, indignantly, for he understood
+very well the imputation, and he replaced his cap on his head.
+
+"I don't believe you are," said the first lady; "here, take
+this," and she put in his hand twenty-five cents.
+
+"Thank you, signora," said Phil, with a grateful smile.
+
+"That money is thrown away," said the elderly lady; "you are very
+indiscriminate in your charity, Eleanor."
+
+"It is better to give too much than too little, Aunt Maria, isn't
+it?"
+
+"You shouldn't give to unworthy objects."  
+
+"How do you know this boy is an unworthy object?"
+
+"He is a young vagrant."
+
+"Can he help it?  It is the way he makes his living."
+
+The discussion continued, but Phil did not stop to hear it.  He
+had received more than he expected, and now felt ready to
+continue his business.  One thing was fortunate, and relieved him
+from the anxiety which he had formerly labored under.  He was not
+obliged to obtain a certain sum in order to escape a beating at
+night.  He had no master to account to.  He was his own employer,
+as long as he kept out of the clutches of the padrone.
+
+Phil continued to roam about the streets very much after the old
+fashion, playing here and there as he thought it expedient.  By
+noon he had picked up seventy-five cents, and felt very well
+satisfied with his success.  But if, as we are told, the hour
+that is darkest is just before day, it also happens sometimes
+that danger lies in wait for prosperity, and danger menaced our
+young hero, though he did not know it.  To explain this, we must
+go back a little.
+
+When Pietro prepared to leave the lodging-house in the morning,
+the padrone called loudly to him.
+
+"Pietro," said he, "you must find Filippo today."
+
+"Where shall I go?" asked Pietro.
+
+"Go to Newark.  Filippo went there, no doubt, while you, stupid
+that you are, went looking for him in Jersey City.  You have been
+in Newark before?"
+
+"Yes, signore padrone."
+
+"Very good; then you need no directions."
+
+"If I do not find him in Newark, where shall I go?"
+
+"He is in Newark," said the padrone, confidently.  "He will not
+leave it."
+
+He judged that Phil would consider himself safe there, and would
+prefer to remain in a city rather than go into the country.
+
+"I will do my best," said Pietro.
+
+"I expect you to bring him back to-night."
+
+"I should like to do so," said Pietro, and he spoke the truth. 
+Apart from his natural tendency to play the tyrant over smaller
+boys, he felt a personal grudge against Phil for eluding him the
+day before, and so subjecting him to the trouble of another day's
+pursuit, besides the mortification of incurring a reprimand from
+his uncle.  Never did agent accept a commission more readily than
+Pietro accepted that of catching and bringing Filippo to the
+padrone.
+
+Leaving the lodging-house he walked down to the ferry at the foot
+of Cortlandt Street, and took the first train for Newark.  It was
+ten o'clock before he reached the city.  He had nothing in
+particular to guide him, but made up his mind to wander about all
+day, inquiring from time to time if anyone had seen his little
+brother, describing Phil.  After a while his inquiries were
+answered in the affirmative, and he gradually got on the track of
+our hero.
+
+At twelve o'clock Phil went into a restaurant, and invested
+thirty cents in a dinner.  As the prices were low, he obtained
+for this sum all he desired.  Ten minutes afterward, as he was
+walking leisurely along with that feeling of tranquil enjoyment
+which a full stomach is apt to give, Pietro turned the corner
+behind him.  No sooner did the organ-grinder catch sight of his
+prey, than a fierce joy lighted up his eyes, and he quickened his
+pace.
+
+"Ah, scelerato, I have you now," he exclaimed to himself. 
+"To-night you shall feel the stick."
+
+But opportunely for himself Phil looked behind him.  When he saw
+Pietro at but a few rods' distance his heart stood still with
+sudden fright, and for an instant his feet were rooted to the
+ground.  Then the thought of escape came to him, and he began to
+run, not too soon.
+
+"Stop!" called out Pietro.  "Stop, or I will kill you!"
+
+But Phil did not comprehend the advantage of surrendering himself
+to Pietro.  He understood too well how he would be treated, if he
+returned a prisoner.  Instead of obeying the call, he only sped
+on the faster.  Now between the pursuer and the pursued there was
+a difference of six years, Pietro being eighteen, while Phil was
+but twelve.  This, of course, was in Pietro's favor.  On the
+other hand, the pursuer was encumbered by a hand-organ, which
+retarded his progress, while Phil had only a violin, which did
+not delay him at all.  This made their speed about equal, and
+gave Phil a chance to escape, unless he should meet with some
+interruption
+
+"Stop!" called Pietro, furiously, beginning to realize that the
+victory was not yet won.
+
+Phil looked over his shoulder, and, seeing that Pietro was no
+nearer, took fresh courage.  He darted round a corner, with his
+pursuer half a dozen rods behind him.  They were not in the most
+frequented parts of the city, but in a quarter occupied by
+two-story wooden houses.  Seeing a front door open, Phil, with a
+sudden impulse, ran hastily in, closing the door behind him.
+
+A woman with her sleeves rolled up, who appeared to have taken
+her arms from the tub, hearing his step, came out from the back
+room.
+
+"What do ye want?" she demanded, suspiciously.
+
+"Save me!" cried Phil, out of breath.  "Someone is chasing me. 
+He is bad.  He will beat me."
+
+The woman's sympathies were quickly enlisted.  She had a warm
+heart, and was always ready to give aid to the oppressed.
+
+"Whist, darlint, run upstairs, and hide under the bed.  I'll send
+him off wid a flea in his ear, whoever he is."
+
+Phil was quick to take the hint.  He ran upstairs, and concealed
+himself as directed.  While he was doing it, the lower door,
+which he had shut, was opened by Pietro.  He was about to rush
+into the house, but the muscular form of Phil's friend stood in
+his way.
+
+"Out wid ye!" said she, flourishing a broom, which she had
+snatched up.  "Is that the way you inter a dacint woman's house,
+ye spalpeen!"
+
+"I want my brother," said Pietro, drawing back a little before
+the amazon who disputed his passage.
+
+"Go and find him, thin!" said Bridget McGuire, "and kape out of
+my house."
+
+"But he is here," said Pietro, angrily; "I saw him come in."
+
+"Then, one of the family is enough," said Bridget.  "I don't want
+another.  Lave here wid you!"
+
+"Give me my brother, then!" said Pietro, provoked.
+
+"I don't know anything of your brother.  If he looks like you,
+he's a beauty, sure," returned Mrs. McGuire.
+
+"Will you let me look for him?"
+
+"Faith and I won't.  You may call him if you plase."
+
+Pietro knew that this would do very little good, but there seemed
+nothing else to do.
+
+"Filippo!" he called; "come here.  The padrone has sent for
+you."
+
+"What was ye sayin'?" demanded Bridget not comprehending the
+Italian.
+
+"I told my brother to come."
+
+"Then you can go out and wait for him," said she.  "I don't want
+you in the house."
+
+Pietro was very angry.  He suspected that Phil was in the rear
+room, and was anxious to search for him.  But Bridget McGuire was
+in the way--no light, delicate woman, but at least forty pounds
+heavier than Pietro.  Moreover, she was armed with a broom, and
+seemed quite ready to use it.  Phil was fortunate in obtaining so
+able a protector.  Pietro looked at her, and had a vague thought
+of running by her, and dragging Phil out if he found him.  But
+Bridget was planted so squarely in his path that this course did
+not seem very practicable.
+
+"Will you give me my brother?" demanded Pietro, forced to use
+words where he would willingly have used blows.
+
+"I haven't got your brother."
+
+"He is in this house."
+
+"Thin he may stay here, but you shan't," said Bridget, and she
+made a sudden demonstration with the broom, of so threatening a
+character that Pietro hastily backed out of the house, and the
+door was instantly bolted in his face.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE SIEGE
+
+When the enemy had fairly been driven out of the house Mrs.
+McGuire went upstairs in search of Phil.  Our hero had come out
+from his place of concealment, and stood at the window.
+
+"Where is Pietro?" he asked, as his hostess appeared in the
+chamber.
+
+"I druv him out of the house," said Bridget, triumphantly.
+
+"Then he won't come up here?" interrogated Phil.
+
+"It's I that would like to see him thry it," said Mrs. McGuire,
+shaking her head in a very positive manner, "I'd break my broom
+over his back first."
+
+Phil breathed freer.  He saw that he was rescued from immediate
+danger.
+
+"Where is he now?"
+
+"He's outside watching for you.  He'll have to wait till you come
+out."
+
+"May I stay here till he goes?"
+
+"Sure, and you may," said the warm-hearted Irishwoman.  "You're
+as welcome as flowers in May.  Are you hungry?"
+
+"No, thank you," said Phil.  "I have eaten my dinner."
+
+"Won't you try a bit of bread and cold mate now?" she asked,
+hospitably.
+
+"You are very kind," said Phil, gratefully, "but I am not hungry. 
+I only want to get away from Pietro."
+
+"Is that the haythen's name?  Sure I niver heard it before."
+
+"It is Peter in English."
+
+"And has he got the name of the blessed St. Peter, thin?  Sure,
+St. Peter would be mightily ashamed of him.  And is he your
+brother, do you say?"
+
+"No," said Phil.
+
+"He said he was; but I thought it was a wicked lie when he said
+it.  He's too bad, sure, to be a brother of yours.  But I must go
+down to my work.  My clothes are in the tub, and the water will
+get cold."
+
+"Will you be kind enough to tell me when he goes away?" asked
+Phil.
+
+"Sure I will.  Rest aisy, darlint.  He shan't get hold of you."
+
+Pietro's disappointment may be imagined when he found that the
+victim whom he had already considered in his grasp was snatched
+from him in the very moment of his triumph.  He felt nearly as
+much incensed at Mrs. McGuire as at Phil, but against the former
+he had no remedy.  Over the stalwart Irishwoman neither he nor
+the padrone had any jurisdiction, and he was compelled to own
+himself ignominiously repulsed and baffled.  Still all was not
+lost.  Phil must come out of the house some time, and when he did
+he would capture him.  When that happy moment arrived he resolved
+to inflict a little punishment on our hero on his own account, in
+anticipation of that which awaited him from his uncle, the
+padrone.  He therefore took his position in front of the house,
+and maintained a careful watch, that Phil might not escape
+unobserved.
+
+So half an hour passed.  He could hear no noise inside the house,
+nor did Phil show himself at any of the windows.  Pietro was
+disturbed by a sudden suspicion.  What if, while he was watching,
+Phil had escaped by the back door, and was already at a distance!
+
+This would be quite possible, for as he stood he could only watch
+the front of the house.  The rear was hidden from his view.  Made
+uneasy by this thought, he shifted his ground, and crept
+stealthily round on the side, in the hope of catching a view of
+Phil, or perhaps hearing some conversation between him and his
+Amazonian protector by which he might set at rest his suddenly
+formed suspicions.
+
+He was wrong, however.  Phil was still upstairs.  He was disposed
+to be cautious, and did not mean to leave his present place of
+security until he should be apprised by his hostess that Pietro
+had gone.
+
+Bridget McGuire kept on with her washing.  She had been once to
+the front room, and, looking through the blinds, had ascertained
+that Pietro was still there.
+
+"He'll have to wait long enough," she said to herself, "the
+haythen!  It's hard he'll find it to get the better of Bridget
+McGuire."
+
+She was still at her tub when through the opposite window on the
+side of the house she caught sight of Pietro creeping stealthily
+along, as we have described. 
+
+"I'll be even wid him," said Bridget to herself exultingly. 
+"I'll tache him to prowl around my house."
+
+She took from her sink near by a large, long-handled tin dipper,
+and filled it full of warm suds from the tub.  Then stealing to
+the window, she opened it suddenly, and as Pietro looked up,
+suddenly launched the contents in his face, calling forth a
+volley of imprecations, which I would rather not transfer to my
+page.  Being in Italian, Bridget did not exactly understand their
+meaning, but guessed it.
+
+"Is it there ye are?" she said, in affected surprise.
+
+"Why did you do that?" demanded Pietro, finding enough English
+to express his indignation.
+
+"Why did I do it?" repeated Bridget.  "How would I know that you
+were crapin' under my windy?  It serves ye right, anyhow.  I
+don't want you here."
+
+"Send out my brother, then," said Pietro.
+
+"There's no brother of yours inside," said Mrs. McGuire.
+
+"It's a lie!" said Pietro, angrily stamping his foot.
+
+"Do you want it ag'in?" asked Bridget, filling her dipper once
+more from the tub, causing Pietro to withdraw hastily to a
+greater distance.  "Don't you tell Bridget McGuire that she
+lies."
+
+"My brother is in the house," reiterated Pietro, doggedly.
+
+"He is no brother of yours--he says so."
+
+"He lies," said Pietro.
+
+"Shure and it's somebody else lies, I'm thinkin'," said Bridget.
+
+"Is he in the house?" demanded Pietro, finding it difficult to
+argue with Phil's protector.
+
+"I don't see him," said Bridget, shrewdly, turning and glancing
+round the room.
+
+"I'll call the police," said Pietro, trying to intimidate his
+adversary.
+
+"I wish you would," she answered, promptly.  "It would save me
+the trouble.  I'll make a charge against you for thryin' to break
+into my house; maybe you want to stale something."
+
+Pietro was getting disgusted.  Mrs. McGuire proved more
+unmanageable than he anticipated.  It was tantalizing to think
+that Phil was so near him, and yet out of his reach.  He
+anathematized Phil's protector in his heart, and I am afraid it
+would have gone hard with her if he could have had his wishes
+fulfilled.  He was not troubled to think what next to say, for
+Bridget suddenly terminated the interview by shutting down the
+window with the remark: "Go away from here!  I don't want you
+lookin' in at my windy."
+
+Pietro did not, however, go away immediately.  He moved a little
+further to the rear, having a suspicion that Phil might escape
+from the door at the back.  While he was watching here, he
+suddenly heard the front door open, and shut with a loud sound. 
+He ran to the front, thinking that Phil might be taking flight
+from the street door, but it was only a ruse of Mrs. McGuire, who
+rather enjoyed tantalizing Pietro.  He looked carefully up and
+down the street, but, seeing nothing of Phil, he concluded he
+must still be inside.  He therefore resumed his watch, but in
+some perplexity as to where he ought to stand, in order to watch
+both front and rear.  Phil occasionally looked guardedly from the
+window in the second story, and saw his enemy, but knew that as
+long as he remained indoors he was safe.  It was not very
+agreeable remaining in the chamber alone, but it was a great deal
+better than falling into the clutches of Pietro, and he felt
+fortunate to have found so secure a place of refuge.
+
+Pietro finally posted himself at the side of the house, where he
+could command a view of both front and rear, and there maintained
+his stand nearly underneath the window at which his intended
+prisoner was standing.
+
+As Phil was watching him, suddenly he heard steps, and Bridget
+McGuire entered the chamber.  She bore in her hand the same tin
+dipper before noticed, filled with steaming hot water.  Phil
+regarded her with some surprise.
+
+"Would you like to see some fun now?" she asked, her face
+covered by a broad smile.
+
+"Yes," said Phil.
+
+"Open the windy, aisy, so he won't hear."
+
+Phil obeyed directions, and managed not to attract the attention
+of his besieger below, who chanced at the moment to be looking
+toward the door in the rear.
+
+"Now," said Bridget, "take this dipper and give him the binifit
+of it."
+
+"Don't let him see you do it," cautioned his protector.
+
+Phil took the idea and the dipper at once.
+
+Phil, holding the dipper carefully, discharged the contents with
+such good aim that they drenched the watching Pietro.  The water
+being pretty hot, a howl of pain and rage rose from below, and
+Pietro danced about frantically.  Looking up, he saw no one, for
+Phil had followed directions and drawn his head in immediately. 
+But Mrs. McGuire, less cautious, looked out directly afterward.
+
+"Will ye go now, or will ye stand jist where I throw the hot
+water?"
+
+In reply, Pietro indulged in some rather emphatic language, but
+being in the Italian language, in which he was more fluent, it
+fell unregarded upon the ears of Mrs. McGuire.
+
+"I told you to go," she said.  "I've got some more wather
+inside."
+
+Pietro stepped back in alarm.  He had no disposition to take
+another warm shower bath, and he had found out to his cost that
+Bridget McGuire was not a timid woman, or easily frightened.
+
+But he had not yet abandoned the siege.  He shifted his ground to
+the front of the house, and took a position commanding a view of
+the front door.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE SIEGE IS RAISED
+
+Though Phil was the besieged party, his position was decidedly
+preferable to that of Pietro.  The afternoon was passing, and he
+was earning nothing.  He finally uncovered his organ and began to
+play.  A few gathered around him, but they were of that class
+with whom money is not plenty.  So after a while, finding no
+pennies forthcoming, he stopped suddenly, but did not move on, as
+his auditors expected him to.  He still kept his eyes fixed on
+Mrs. McGuire's dwelling.  He did this so long as to attract
+observation.
+
+"You'll know the house next time, mister," said a sharp boy.
+
+Pietro was about to answer angrily, when a thought struck him.
+
+"Will you do something for me?" he asked.
+
+"How much?" inquired the boy, suggestively.
+
+"Five cents," answered Pietro, understanding his meaning.
+
+"It isn't much," said the boy, reflectively.  "Tell me what you
+want."
+
+Though Pietro was not much of a master of English, he contrived
+to make the boy understand that he was to go round to the back
+door and tell Mrs. McGuire that he, Pietro, was gone.  He
+intended to hide close by, and when Phil came out, as he hoped,
+on the strength of his disappearance, he would descend upon him
+and bear him off triumphantly.
+
+Armed with these instructions, the boy went round to the back
+door and knocked.
+
+Thinking it might be Phil's enemy, Mrs. McGuire went to the door,
+holding in one hand a dipper of hot suds, ready to use in case of
+emergency.
+
+"Well, what do you want?" she asked, abruptly, seeing that it
+was a boy.
+
+"He's gone," said the boy.
+
+"Who's gone?"
+
+"The man with the hand-organ, ma'am."
+
+"And what for do I care?" demanded Bridget, suspiciously.
+
+This was a question the boy could not answer.  In fact, he
+wondered himself why such a message should have been sent.  He
+could only look at her in silence.
+
+"Who told you to tell the man was gone?" asked Bridget, with a
+shrewdness worthy of a practitioner at the bar.
+
+"The Italian told me,"
+
+"Did he?" repeated Bridget, who saw into the trick at once. 
+"He's very kind."
+
+"He didn't want you to know he told me," said the boy,
+remembering his instructions when it was too late.
+
+Mrs. McGuire nodded her head intelligently.
+
+"True for you," said she.  "What did he pay you for tellin' me?"
+
+"Five cents."
+
+"Thin it's five cints lost.  Do you want to earn another five
+cints?"
+
+"Yes," said the boy, promptly.
+
+"Thin do what I tell you."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Come in and I'll tell you."
+
+The boy having entered, Mrs. McGuire led him to the front door.
+
+"Now," said she, "when I open the door, run as fast as you can. 
+The man that sint you will think it is another boy, and will run
+after you.  Do ye mind?"
+
+The young messenger began to see the joke, and was quite willing
+to help carry it out.  But even the prospective fun did not make
+him forgetful of his promised recompense.
+
+"Where's the five cents?" he asked.
+
+"Here," said Bridget, and diving into the depths of a capacious
+pocket, she drew out five pennies.
+
+"That's all right," said the boy.  "Now, open the door."
+
+Bridget took care to make a noise in opening the door, and, as it
+opened, she said in a loud and exultant voice, "You're all safe
+now; the man's gone."
+
+"Now run," she said, in a lower voice.
+
+The boy dashed out of the doorway, but Mrs. McGuire remained
+standing there.  She was not much surprised to see Pietro run out
+from the other side of the house, and prepare to chase the
+runaway.  But quickly perceiving that he was mistaken, he checked
+his steps, and turning, saw Mrs. McGuire with a triumphant smile
+on her face.
+
+"Why don't you run?" she said.  "You can catch him."
+
+"It isn't my brother," he answered, sullenly.
+
+"I thought you was gone," she said.
+
+"I am waiting for my brother."
+
+"Thin you'll have to wait.  You wanted to chate me, you haythen! 
+But Bridget McGuire ain't to be took in by such as you.  You'd
+better lave before my man comes home from his work, or he'll give
+you lave of absence wid a kick."
+
+Without waiting for an answer, Bridget shut the door, and bolted
+it--leaving her enemy routed at all points.
+
+In fact Pietro began to lose courage.  He saw that he had a
+determined foe to contend with.  He had been foiled thus far in
+every effort to obtain possession of Phil.  But the more
+difficult the enterprise seemed, the more anxious he became to
+carry it out successfully.  He knew that the padrone would not
+give him a very cordial reception if he returned without Phil,
+especially as he would be compelled to admit that he had seen
+him, and had nevertheless failed to secure him.  His uncle would
+not be able to appreciate the obstacles he had encountered, but
+would consider him in fault.  For this reason he did not like to
+give up the siege, though he saw little hopes of accomplishing
+his object.  At length, however, he was obliged to raise the
+siege, but from a cause with which neither Phil nor his defender
+had anything to do.
+
+The sky, which had till this time been clear, suddenly darkened. 
+In ten minutes rain began to fall in large drops.  A sudden
+shower, unusual at this time of the year, came up, and
+pedestrians everywhere, caught without umbrellas, fled
+panic-stricken to the nearest shelter.  Twice before, as we know,
+Pietro had suffered from a shower of warm water.  This, though
+colder, was even more formidable.  Vanquished by the forces of
+nature, Pietro shouldered his instrument and fled incontinently. 
+Phil might come out now, if he chose.  His enemy had deserted his
+post, and the coast was clear.
+
+"That'll make the haythen lave," thought Mrs. McGuire, who,
+though sorry to see the rain on account of her washing, exulted
+in the fact that Pietro was caught out in it.
+
+She went to the front door and looked out.  Looking up the
+street, she just caught a glimpse of the organ in rapid retreat. 
+She now unbolted the door, the danger being at an end, and went
+up to acquaint Phil with the good news.
+
+"You may come down now," she said.
+
+"Is he gone?" inquired Phil.
+
+"Shure he's runnin' up the street as fast as his legs can carry
+him."
+
+"Thank you for saving me from him," said, Phil, with a great
+sense of relief at the flight of his enemy.
+
+"Whisht now; I don't nade any thanks.  Come down by the fire
+now."
+
+So Phil went down, and Bridget, on hospitable thoughts intent,
+drew her only rocking-chair near the stove, and forced Phil to
+sit down in it.  Then she told him, with evident enjoyment, of
+the trick which Pietro had tried to play on her, and how he had
+failed.
+
+"He couldn't chate me, the haythen!" she concluded.  "I was too
+smart for the likes of him, anyhow.  Where do you live when you
+are at home?"
+
+"I have no home now," said Phil, with tears in his eyes.
+
+"And have you no father and mother?" 
+
+"Yes," said Phil.  "They live in Italy."
+
+"And why did they let you go so far away?"
+
+"They were poor, and the padrone offered them money," answered
+Phil, forced to answer, though the subject was an unpleasant one.
+
+"And did they know he was a bad man and would bate you?"
+
+"I don't think they knew," said Phil, with hesitation.  "My
+mother did not know."
+
+"I've got three childer myself," said Bridget; "they'll get wet
+comin' home from school, the darlints--but I wouldn't let them go
+with any man to a far country, if he'd give me all the gowld in
+the world.  And where does that man live that trates you so bad?"
+
+"In New York."
+
+"And does Peter--or whatever the haythen's name is--live there
+too?"
+
+"Yes, Pietro lives there.  The padrone is his uncle, and treats
+him better than the rest of us.  He sent him after me to bring me
+back."
+
+"And what is your name?  Is it Peter, like his?"
+
+"No; my name is Filippo."
+
+"It's a quare name."
+
+"American boys call me Phil."
+
+"That's better.  It's a Christian name, and the other isn't. 
+Before I married my man I lived five years at Mrs. Robertson's,
+and she had a boy they called Phil.  His whole name was Philip."
+
+"That's my name in English."
+
+"Then why don't you call it so, instead of Philip-O?   What good
+is the O, anyhow?   In my country they put the O before the name,
+instead of to the tail-end of it.  My mother was an O'Connor. 
+But it's likely ivery country has its own ways."
+
+Phil knew very little of Ireland, and did not fully understand
+Mrs. McGuire's philosophical remarks.  Otherwise they might have
+amused him, as they may possibly amuse my readers.
+
+I cannot undertake to chronicle the conversation that took place
+between Phil and his hostess.  She made numerous inquiries, to
+some of which he was able to give satisfactory replies, to others
+not.  But in half an hour there was an interruption, and a noisy
+one.  Three stout, freckled-faced children ran in at the back
+door, dripping as if they had just emerged from a shower-bath. 
+Phil moved aside to let them approach the stove.
+
+Forthwith Mrs. McGuire was engaged in motherly care, removing a
+part of the wet clothing, and lamenting for the state in which
+her sturdy offspring had returned.  But presently order was
+restored, and the bustle was succeeded by quiet.
+
+"Play us a tune," said Pat, the oldest.
+
+Phil complied with the request, and played tune after tune, to
+the great delight of the children, as well as of Mrs. McGuire
+herself.  The result was that when, shortly after, on the storm
+subsiding, Phil proposed to go, the children clamored to have him
+stay, and he received such a cordial invitation to stop till the
+next morning that he accepted, nothing loath.  So till the next
+morning our young hero is provided for.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+A PITCHED BATTLE
+
+Has my youthful reader ever seen a dog slinking home with
+downcast look and tall between his legs?   It was with very much
+the same air that Pietro in the evening entered the presence of
+the padrone.  He had received a mortifying defeat, and now he had
+before him the difficult task of acknowledging it.
+
+"Well, Pietro," said the padrone, harshly, "where is Filippo?"
+
+"He is not with me" answered Pietro, in an embarrassed manner.
+
+"Didn't you see him then?" demanded his uncle, hastily.
+
+For an instant Pietro was inclined to reply in the negative,
+knowing that the censure he would incur would be less.  But Phil
+might yet be taken--he probably would be, sooner or later,
+Pietro thought--and then his falsehood would be found out, and he
+would in consequence lose the confidence of the padrone.  So,
+difficult though it was, he thought it politic to tell the truth.
+
+"Si, signore, I saw him," said he.
+
+"Then why didn't you drag him home?" demanded his uncle, with
+contracted brow.  "Didn't I tell you to bring him home?"
+
+"Si, signore, but I could not."
+
+"Are you not so strong as he, then?" asked the padrone, with a
+sneer.  "Is a boy of twelve more than a match for you, who are
+six years older?"
+
+"I could kill him with my little finger," said Pietro, stung by
+this taunt, and for the moment he looked as if he would like to
+do it.
+
+"Then you didn't want to bring him?   Come, you are not too old
+for the stick yet."
+
+Pietro glowed beneath his dark skin with anger and shame when
+these words were addressed to him.  He would not have cared so
+much had they been alone, but some of the younger boys were
+present, and it shamed him to be threatened in their presence.
+
+"I will tell you how it happened," he said, suppressing his anger
+as well as he could, "and you will see that I was not in fault."
+
+"Speak on, then," said his uncle; but his tone was cold and
+incredulous.
+
+Pietro told the story, as we know it.  It will not be necessary
+to repeat it.  When he had finished, his uncle said, with a
+sneer, "So you were afraid of a woman.  I am ashamed of you."
+
+"What could I do?" pleaded Pietro.
+
+"What could you do?" repeated the padrone, furiously; "you could
+push her aside, run into the house, and secure the boy.  You are
+a coward --afraid of a woman!"
+
+"It was her house," said Pietro.  "She would call the police."
+
+"So could you.  You could say it was your brother you sought. 
+There was no difficulty.  Do you think Filippo is there yet?"
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"To-morrow I will go with you myself," said the padrone.  "I see
+I cannot trust you alone.  You shall show me the house, and I
+will take the boy."
+
+Pietro was glad to hear this.  It shifted the responsibility from
+his shoulders, and he was privately convinced that Mrs. McGuire
+would prove a more formidable antagonist than the padrone
+imagined.  Whichever way it turned out, he would experience a
+feeling of satisfaction.  If the padrone got worsted, it would
+show that he, Pietro, need not be ashamed of his defeat.  If Mrs.
+McGuire had to surrender at discretion, he would rejoice in her
+discomfiture.  So, in spite of his reprimand, he went to bed with
+better spirits than he came home.
+
+The next morning Pietro and the padrone proceeded to Newark, as
+proposed.  Arrived there, the former led his uncle at once to the
+house of the redoubtable Mrs. McGuire.  It will be necessary for
+us to precede them.
+
+Patrick McGuire was a laborer, and for some months past had had
+steady work.  But, as luck would have it, work ceased for him on
+the day in which his wife had proved so powerful a protector to
+Phil.  When he came home at night he announced this.
+
+"Niver mind, Pat," said Mrs. McGuire, who was sanguine and
+hopeful, "we'll live somehow.  I've got a bit of money upstairs,
+and I'll earn something by washing.  We won't starve."
+
+"I'll get work ag'in soon, maybe," said Pat, encouraged.
+
+"Shure you will."
+
+"And if I don't, I'll help you wash," said her husband,
+humorously.
+
+"Shure you'd spoil the clothes," said Bridget, laughing.
+
+In the evening Phil played, and they had a merry time.  Mr.
+McGuire quite forgot that he was out of work, and, seizing his
+wife by the waist, danced around the kitchen, to the great
+delight of the children.
+
+The next morning Phil thanked Mrs. McGuire for her kindness, and
+prepared to go away.
+
+"Why will you go?" asked Bridget, hospitably.  "Shure we have
+room for you.  You can pay us a little for your atin', and sleep
+with the childer."
+
+"I should like it," said Phil, "but----"
+
+"But what?"
+
+"Pietro will come for me."
+
+"And if he does, my Pat will kick him out of doors."
+
+Mr. McGuire was six feet in height, and powerfully made.  There
+was no doubt he could do it if he had the opportunity.  But Phil
+knew that he must go out into the streets and then Pietro might
+waylay him when he had no protector at hand.  He explained his
+difficulty to Mrs. McGuire, and she proposed that he should
+remain close at hand all the forenoon; near enough to fly to the
+house as a refuge, if needful.  If Pietro did not appear in that
+time, he probably would not at all.
+
+Phil agreed to this plan, and accordingly began to play and sing
+in the neighborhood, keeping a watchful lookout for the enemy. 
+His earnings were small, for the neighborhood was poor.  Still,
+he picked up a few pennies, and his store was increased by a
+twenty-five cent gift from a passing gentleman.  He had just
+commenced a new tune, being at that time ten rods from the house,
+when his watchful eyes detected the approach of Pietro, and, more
+formidable still, the padrone.
+
+He did not stop to finish his tune, but took to his heels.  At
+that moment the padrone saw him.  With a cry of exultation, he
+started in pursuit, and Pietro with him.  He thought Phil already
+in his grasp.
+
+Phil dashed breathless into the kitchen, where Mrs. McGuire was
+ironing.
+
+"What's the matter?" she asked.
+
+"The padrone--Pietro and the padrone!" exclaimed Phil, pale with
+affright.
+
+Mrs. McGuire took in the situation at once.
+
+"Run upstairs," she said.  "Pat's up there on the bed.  He will
+see they won't take you."
+
+Phil sprang upstairs two steps at a time, and dashed into the
+chamber.  Mr. McGuire was lying on the outside of the bed,
+peacefully smoking a clay pipe.
+
+"What's the matther?" he asked, repeating his wife's question.
+
+"They have come for me," said Phil.
+
+"Have they?" said Pat.  "Then they'll go back, I'm thinkin'. 
+Where are they?"
+
+But there was no need of a reply, as their voices were already
+audible from below, talking with Mrs. McGuire.  The distance was
+so trifling that they had seen Phil enter the house, and the
+padrone, having a contempt for the physical powers of woman,
+followed boldly.
+
+They met Mrs. McGuire at the door.
+
+"What do you want?" she demanded.
+
+"The boy," said the padrone.  "I saw him come in here."
+
+"Did ye?  Your eyes is sharp thin."  
+
+She stood directly in the passage, so that neither could enter
+without brushing her aside.
+
+"Send him out," said the padrone.
+
+"Faith, and I won't," said Bridget.  "He shall stay here as long
+as he likes."
+
+"I will come in and take him," said the padrone, furiously.
+
+"I wouldn't advise ye to thry it," said Mrs. McGuire, coolly.
+
+"Move aside, woman, or I will make you," said the Italian,
+angrily.
+
+"I'll stay where I am.  Shure, it's my own house, and I have a
+right to do it."
+
+"Pietro," said the padrone, with sudden thought, "he may escape
+from the front door.  Go round and watch it."
+
+By his sign Bridget guessed what he said, though it was spoken in
+Italian.
+
+"He won't run away," she said.  "I'll tell you where he is, if
+you want to know."
+
+"Where?" asked the padrone, eagerly.
+
+"He's upstairs, thin."
+
+The padrone would not be restrained any longer.  He made a rush
+forward, and, pushing Mrs. McGuire aside, sprang up the stairs. 
+He would have found greater difficulty in doing this, but
+Bridget, knowing her husband was upstairs, made little
+resistance, and contented herself, after the padrone had passed,
+with intercepting Pietro, and clutching him vigorously by the
+hair, to his great discomfort, screaming "Murther!" at the top of
+her lungs.
+
+The padrone heard the cry, but in his impetuosity he did not heed
+it.  He expected to gain an easy victory over Phil, whom he
+supposed to be alone in the chamber.  He sprang toward him, but
+had barely seized him by the arm, when the gigantic form of the
+Irishman appeared, and the padrone found himself in his powerful
+grasp.
+
+"What business have ye here, you bloody villain?" demanded Pat;
+"breakin' into an honest man's house, without lave or license. 
+I'll teach you manners, you baste!"
+
+"Give me the boy!" gasped the padrone.
+
+"You can't have him, thin!" said Pat "You want to bate him, you
+murderin' ould villain!"
+
+"I'll have you arrested," said the padrone, furiously, writhing
+vainly to get himself free.  He was almost beside himself that
+Phil should be the witness of his humiliation.
+
+"Will you, thin?" demanded Pat.  "Thin the sooner you do it the
+betther.  Open the window, Phil!"
+
+Phil obeyed, not knowing why the request was made.  He was soon
+enlightened.  The Irishman seized the padrone, and, lifting him
+from the floor, carried him to the window, despite his struggles,
+and, thrusting him out, let him drop.  It was only the second
+story, and there was no danger of serious injury.  The padrone
+picked himself up, only to meet with another disaster.  A passing
+policeman had heard Mrs. McGuire's cries, and on hearing her
+account had arrested Pietro, and was just in time to arrest the
+padrone also, on the charge of forcibly entering the house.  As
+the guardian of the peace marched off with Pietro on one side and
+the padrone on the other, Mrs. McGuire sat down on a chair and
+laughed till she cried.
+
+"Shure, they won't come for you again in a hurry, Phil, darlint!" 
+she said.  "They've got all they want, I'm thinkin'."
+
+I may add that the pair were confined in the station-house over
+night, and the next day were brought before a justice,
+reprimanded and fined.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE DEATH OF GIACOMO
+
+Great was the astonishment at the Italian lodging-house that
+night when neither the padrone nor Pietro made his appearance. 
+Great was the joy, too, for the nightly punishments were also
+necessarily omitted, and the boys had no one to pay their money
+to.  There was another circumstance not so agreeable.  All the
+provisions were locked up, and there was no supper for the hungry
+children.  Finally, at half-past eleven, three boys, bolder than
+the rest, went out, and at last succeeded in obtaining some bread
+and crackers at an oyster saloon, in sufficient quantities to
+supply all their comrades.  After eating heartily they went to
+bed, and for one night the establishment ran itself much more
+satisfactorily to the boys than if the padrone had been present.
+
+The next morning the boys went out as usual, having again bought
+their breakfast and dispersed themselves about the city and
+vicinity, heartily hoping that this state of things might
+continue.  But it was too good to last.  When they returned at
+evening they found their old enemy in command.  He looked more
+ill-tempered and sour than ever, but gave no explanation of his
+and Pietro's absence, except to say that he had been out of the
+city on business.  He called for the boys' earnings of the day
+previous, but to their surprise made no inquiries about how they
+had supplied themselves with supper or breakfast.  He felt that
+his influence over the boys, and the terror which he delighted to
+inspire in them, would be lessened if they should learn that he
+had been arrested and punished.  The boys were accustomed to look
+upon him as possessed of absolute power over them, and almost
+regarded him as above law.
+
+Pietro, too, was silent, partly for the same reasons which
+influenced the padrone, partly because he was afraid of offending
+his uncle.
+
+Meanwhile poor Giacomo remained sick.  If he had been as robust
+and strong as Phil, he would have recovered, but he was naturally
+delicate, and exposure and insufficient food had done their work
+only too well.
+
+Four days afterward (to advance the story a little) one of the
+boys came to the padrone in the morning, saying: "Signore
+padrone, Giacomo is much worse.  I think he is going to die."
+
+"Nonsense!" said the padrone, angrily.  "He is only pretending
+to be sick, so that he need not work.  I have lost enough by him
+already."
+
+Nevertheless he went to the little boy's bedside.
+
+Giacomo was breathing faintly.  His face was painfully thin, his
+eyes preternaturally bright.  He spoke faintly, but his mind
+seemed to be wandering.
+
+"Where is Filippo?" he said.  "I want to see Filippo."
+
+In this wish the padrone heartily concurred.  He, too, would have
+been glad to see Filippo, but the pleasure would not have been
+mutual.
+
+"Why do you want to see Filippo?" he demanded, in his customary
+harsh tone.
+
+Giacomo heard and answered, though unconscious who spoke to him.
+
+"I want to kiss him before I die," he said.
+
+"What makes you think you are going to die?" said the tyrant,
+struck by the boy's appearance.
+
+"I am so weak," murmured Giacomo.  "Stoop down, Filippo.  I want
+to tell you something in your ear."
+
+Moved by curiosity rather than humanity, the padrone stooped
+over, and Giacomo whispered:
+
+"When you go back to Italy, dear Filippo, go and tell my mother
+how I died.  Tell her not to let my father sell my little brother
+to a padrone, or he may die far away, as I am dying.  Promise me,
+Filippo."
+
+There was no answer.  The padrone did indeed feel a slight
+emotion of pity, but it was, unhappily, transient.  Giacomo did
+not observe that the question was not answered.
+
+"Kiss me, Filippo," said the dying boy.
+
+One of the boys who stood nearby, with tears in his eyes, bent
+over and kissed him.
+
+Giacomo smiled.  He thought it was Filippo.  With that smile on
+his face, he gave one quick gasp and died--a victim of the
+padrone's tyranny and his father's cupidity.[1]
+
+[1] It is the testimony of an eminent Neapolitan physician 
+(I quote from Signor Casali, editor of L'Eco d'Italia) that 
+of one hundred Italian children who are sold by their parents 
+into this white slavery, but twenty ever return home; thirty grow
+up and adopt various occupations abroad, and fifty succumb to
+maladies produced by privation and exposure.  
+
+
+Death came to Giacomo as a friend.  No longer could he be forced
+out into the streets to suffer cold and fatigue, and at night
+inhuman treatment and abuse.  His slavery was at an end.
+
+We go back now to Phil.  Though he and his friends had again
+gained a victory over Pietro and the padrone, he thought it would
+not be prudent to remain in Newark any longer.  He knew the
+revengeful spirit of his tyrants, and dreaded the chance of again
+falling into their hands.  He must, of course, be exposed to the
+risk of capture while plying his vocation in the public streets. 
+Therefore he resisted the invitation of his warm-hearted
+protectors to make his home with them, and decided to wander
+farther away from New York.
+
+The next day, therefore, he went to the railway station and
+bought a ticket for a place ten miles further on.  This he
+decided would be far enough to be safe.
+
+Getting out of the train, he found himself in a village of
+moderate size.  Phil looked around him with interest.  He had the
+fondness, natural to his age, for seeing new places.  He soon
+came to a schoolhouse.  It was only a quarter of nine, and some
+of the boys were playing outside.  Phil leaned against a tree and
+looked on.
+
+Though he was at an age when boys enjoy play better than work or
+study, he had no opportunity to join in their games.
+
+One of the boys, observing him, came up and said frankly, "Do you
+want to play with us?"
+
+"Yes," said Phil, brightening up, "I should like to."
+
+"Come on, then."
+
+Phil looked at his fiddle and hesitated.
+
+"Oh, I'll take care of your fiddle for you.  Here, this tree is
+hollow; just put it inside, and nobody will touch it."
+
+Phil needed no second invitation.  Sure of the safety of his
+fiddle, which was all-important to him since it procured for him
+his livelihood, he joined in the game with zest.  It was so
+simple that he easily understood it.  His laugh was as loud and
+merry as any of the rest, and his face glowed with enjoyment.
+
+It does not take long for boys to become acquainted.  In the
+brief time before the teacher's arrival, Phil became on good
+terms with the schoolboys, and the one who had first invited him
+to join them said: "Come into school with us.  You shall sit in
+my seat."
+
+"Will he let me?" asked Phil, pointing to the teacher.
+
+"To be sure he will.  Come along."
+
+Phil took his fiddle from its hiding-place in the interior of the
+tree, and walked beside his companion into the schoolroom.
+
+It was the first time he had ever been in a schoolroom before,
+and he looked about him with curiosity at the desks, and the maps
+hanging on the walls.  The blackboards, too, he regarded with
+surprise, not understanding their use.
+
+After the opening exercises were concluded, the teacher, whose
+attention had been directed to the newcomer, walked up to the
+desk where he was seated.  Phil was a little alarmed, for,
+associating him with his recollections of the padrone, he did not
+know but that he would be punished for his temerity in entering
+without the teacher's invitation.
+
+But he was soon reassured by the pleasant tone in which he was
+addressed.
+
+"What is your name, my young friend?"
+
+"Filippo."
+
+"You are an Italian, I suppose."
+
+"Si, signore."
+
+"Does that mean 'Yes, sir'?"
+
+"Yes, sir," answered Phil, remembering to speak English.
+
+"Is that your violin?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Where do you live?"
+
+Phil hesitated.
+
+"I am traveling," he said at last.
+
+"You are young to travel alone.  How long have you been in this
+country?"
+
+"A year."
+
+"And have you been traveling about all that time?"
+
+"No, signore; I have lived in New York."
+
+"I suppose you have not gone to school?"
+
+"No, signore."
+
+"Well, I am glad to see you here; I shall be glad to have you
+stay and listen to our exercises."
+
+The teacher walked back to his desk, and the lessons began.  Phil
+listened with curiosity and attention.  For the first time in his
+life he felt ashamed of his own ignorance, and wished he, too,
+might have a chance to learn, as the children around him were
+doing.  But they had homes and parents to supply their wants,
+while he must work for his livelihood.
+
+After a time, recess came.  Then the boys gathered around, and
+asked Phil to play them a tune.
+
+"Will he let me?" asked the young fiddler, again referring to
+the teacher.
+
+The latter, being applied to, readily consented, and expressed
+his own wish to hear Phil.  So the young minstrel played and sang
+several tunes to the group of children who gathered around him. 
+Time passed rapidly, and the recess was over before the children
+anticipated it.
+
+"I am sorry to disturb your enjoyment," said the teacher; "but
+duty before pleasure, you know.  I will only suggest that, as our
+young friend here depends on his violin for support, we ought to
+collect a little money for him.  James Reynolds, suppose you pass
+around your hat for contributions.  Let me suggest that you come
+to me first."
+
+The united offerings, though small individually, amounted to a
+dollar, which Phil pocketed with much satisfaction.  He did not
+remain after recess, but resumed his wanderings, and about noon
+entered a grocery store, where he made a hearty lunch.  Thus far
+good fortune attended him, but the time was coming, and that
+before long, when life would wear a less sunny aspect.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+PHIL FINDS A FRIEND
+
+It was the evening before Christmas.  Until to-day the winter had
+been an open one, but about one o'clock in the afternoon the snow
+began to fall.  The flakes came thicker and faster, and it soon
+became evident that an old-fashioned snowstorm had set in.  By
+seven o'clock the snow lay a foot deep on the level, but in some
+places considerably deeper, for a brisk wind had piled it up in
+places.
+
+In a handsome house, some rods back from the village street,
+lived Dr. Drayton, a physician, whose skill was so well
+appreciated that he had already, though still in the prime of
+life, accumulated a handsome competence.
+
+He sat this evening in his library, in dressing-gown and
+slippers, his wife nearby engaged in some needlework.
+
+"I hope you won't be called out this evening, Joseph," said Mrs.
+Drayton, as a gust of wind tattled the window panes.
+
+"I echo that wish, my dear," said the doctor, looking up from the
+last number of the Atlantic Monthly.  "I find it much more
+comfortable here, reading Dr. Holmes' last article."
+
+"The snow must be quite deep."
+
+"It is.  I found my ride from the north village this afternoon
+bleak enough.  You know how the wind sweeps across the road near
+the Pond schoolhouse.  I believe there is to be a Christmas-eve
+celebration in the Town Hall this evening, is there not?"
+
+"No; it has been postponed till to-morrow evening."
+
+"That will be better.  The weather and walking will both be
+better.  Shall we go, Mary?"
+
+"If you wish it," she said, hesitatingly.
+
+Her husband understood her hesitation.  Christmas day was a sad
+anniversary for them.  Four years before, their only son, Walter,
+a boy of eight, had died just as the Christmas church bells were
+ringing out a summons to church.  Since then the house had been a
+silent one, the quiet unbroken by childish noise and merriment. 
+Much as the doctor and his wife were to each other, both felt the
+void which Walter's death had created, and especially as the
+anniversary came around which called to mind their great loss.
+
+"I think we had better go," said the doctor; "though God has
+bereft us of our own child, it will be pleasant for us to watch
+the happy faces of others."
+
+"Perhaps you are right, Joseph."
+
+Half an hour passed.  The doctor continued reading the Atlantic,
+while his wife, occupied with thoughts which the conversation had
+called up, kept on with her work.
+
+Just then the bell was heard to ring.
+
+"I hope it is not for you, Joseph," said his wife,
+apprehensively.
+
+"I am afraid it is," said the doctor, with a look of resignation.
+
+"I thought it would be too good luck for me to have the whole
+evening to myself."
+
+"I wish you were not a doctor," said Mrs. Drayton.
+
+"It is rather too late to change my profession, my dear," said
+her husband, good-humoredly.  "I shall be fifty next birthday. 
+To be sure, Ellen Jones tells me that in her class at the Normal
+School there is a maiden lady of sixty-two, who has just begun to
+prepare herself for the profession of a teacher.  I am not quite
+so old as that."
+
+Here the servant opened the door, ushering in a farm laborer.
+
+"Good-evening, Abner," said the doctor, recognizing him, as,
+indeed, he knew every face within half a dozen miles.  "Anything
+amiss at home?"
+
+"Mrs. Felton is took with spasms," said Abner.  "Can you come
+right over?"
+
+"What have you done for her?"
+
+"Put her feet in warm water, and put her to bed.  Can you come
+right over?"
+
+"Yes," said the doctor, rising and exchanging his dressing-gown
+for a coat, and drawing on his boots.  "I will go as soon as my
+horse is ready."
+
+Orders were sent out to put the horse to the sleigh.  This was
+quickly done, and the doctor, fully accoutered, walked to the
+door.
+
+"I shall be back as soon as I can, Mary," he said.
+
+"That won't be very soon.  It is a good two-miles' ride."
+
+"I shan't loiter on the way, you may be sure of that.  Abner, I
+am ready."
+
+The snow was still falling, but not quite so fast as early in the
+afternoon.  The wind, however, blew quite as hard, and the doctor
+found all his wrappings needful.
+
+At intervals on the road he came to deep drifts of snow through
+which the horse had some difficulty in drawing the sleigh, but at
+length he arrived at the door of his patient.  He found that the
+violence of her attack was over, and, satisfied of this, left a
+few simple directions, which he considered sufficient.  Nature
+would do the rest.
+
+"Now for home!" he said to himself.  "I hope this will be my
+last professional call this evening.  Mary will be impatient for
+my return."
+
+He gave the reins to his horse, who appeared to feel that he was
+bound homeward, and traveled with more alacrity than he had come.
+
+He, too, no doubt shared the doctor's hope that this was the last
+service required of him before the morrow.
+
+Doctor Drayton had completed rather more than half his journey,
+when, looking to the right, his attention was drawn to a small,
+dark object, nearly covered with snow.
+
+Instinctively he reined up his horse.
+
+"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "it must be a boy.  God grant he
+is not frozen!"
+
+He leaped from his sleigh, and lifted the insensible body.
+
+"It is an Italian boy, and here is his violin.  The poor child
+may be dead," he said to himself in a startled tone.  "I must
+carry him home, and see what I can do for him."
+
+So he took up tenderly our young hero--for our readers will have
+guessed that it was Phil--and put both him and his violin into
+the sleigh.  Then he drove home with a speed which astonished
+even his horse, who, though anxious to reach his comfortable
+stable, would not voluntarily have put forth so great an exertion
+as was now required of him.
+
+I must explain that Phil had for the last ten days been traveling
+about the country, getting on comfortably while the ground was
+bare of snow.  To-day, however, had proved very uncomfortable. 
+In the city the snow would have been cleared off, and would not
+have interfered so much with traveling.
+
+He had bought some supper at a grocery store, and, after spending
+an hour there, had set out again on his wanderings.  He found the
+walking so bad that he made up his mind to apply for a lodging at
+a house not far back; but a fierce dog, by his barking, had
+deterred him from the application.  The road was lonely, and he
+had seen no other house since.  Finally, exhausted by the effort
+of dragging himself through the deep snow, and, stiff with cold,
+he sank down by the side of the road, and would doubtless have
+frozen had not the doctor made his appearance opportunely.
+
+Mrs. Drayton was alarmed when her husband entered the
+sitting-room, bearing Phil's insensible form.
+
+She jumped to her feet in alarm.
+
+"Who is it, Joseph?" she asked.
+
+"A poor Italian boy, whom I found by the side of the road."
+
+"Is he dead?" asked the doctor's wife, quickly.
+
+"I think not.  I will restore him if there is any life left in
+him."
+
+It was fortunate for Phil that he had been discovered by a
+skillful physician, who knew the most effectual means of bringing
+him to.  The flame of life was burning low, and a little longer
+exposure would have closed the earthly career of our young hero. 
+But he was spared, as we hope, for a happy and useful career.
+
+By the application of powerful restoratives Phil was at length
+brought round.  His chilled limbs grew warm, and his heart began
+to beat more steadily and strongly.  A bed was brought down to
+the sitting-room, and he was placed in it.
+
+"Where am I?" he asked faintly, when he opened his eyes.
+
+"You are with friends, my boy.  Don't ask questions now.  In the
+morning, you may ask as many as you like."
+
+Phil closed his eyes languidly, and soon fell into a sound sleep.
+
+Nature was doing her work well and rapidly.
+
+In the morning Phil woke up almost wholly restored.
+
+As he opened his eyes, he met the kind glances of the doctor and
+his wife.
+
+"How do you feel this morning?" asked the doctor.
+
+"I feel well," said Phil, looking around him with curiosity.
+
+"Do you think you could eat some breakfast?" asked Dr. Drayton,
+with a smile.
+
+"Yes, sir," said Phil.
+
+"Then, my lad, I think I can promise you some as soon as you are
+dressed.  But I see from your looks you want to know where you
+are and how you came here.  Don't you remember the snow-storm
+yesterday?"
+
+Phil shuddered.  He remembered it only too well.
+
+"I found you lying by the side of the road about half-past eight
+in the evening.  I suppose you don't remember my picking you up?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"You were insensible.  I was afraid at first you were frozen. 
+But I brought you home, and, thanks to Providence, you are all
+right again."
+
+"Where is my fiddle?" asked Phil, anxiously.
+
+"It is safe.  There it is on the piano."
+
+Phil was relieved to see that his faithful companion was safe. 
+He looked upon it as his stock in trade, for without it he would
+not have known how to make his livelihood.
+
+He dressed quickly, and was soon seated at the doctor's
+well-spread table.  He soon showed that, in spite of his exposure
+and narrow escape from death, he had a hearty appetite.  Mrs.
+Drayton saw him eat with true motherly pleasure, and her natural
+love of children drew her toward our young hero, and would have
+done so even had he been less attractive.
+
+"Joseph," she said, addressing her husband, "I want to speak to
+you a moment."
+
+He followed her out of the room.
+
+"Well, my dear?" he said.
+
+"I want to ask a favor."
+
+"It is granted in advance."
+
+"Perhaps you will not say so when you know what it is."
+
+"I can guess it.  You want to keep this boy."
+
+"Are you willing?"
+
+"I would have proposed it, if you had not.  He is without friends
+and poor.  We have enough and to spare.  We will adopt him in
+place of our lost Walter."
+
+"Thank you, Joseph.  It will make me happy.  Whatever I do for
+him, I will do for my lost darling."
+
+They went back into the room.  They found Phil with his cap on
+and his fiddle under his arm.
+
+"Where are you going, Philip?" asked the doctor.
+
+"I am going into the street.  I thank you for your kindness."
+
+"Would you not rather stay with us?"
+
+Phil looked up, uncertain of his meaning.
+
+"We had a boy once, but he is dead.  Will you stay with us and be
+our boy?"
+
+Phil looked in the kind faces of the doctor and his wife, and his
+face lighted up with joy at the unexpected prospect of such a
+home, with people who would be kind to him.
+
+"I will stay," he said.  "You are very kind to me."
+
+So our little hero had drifted into a snug harbor.  His toils and
+privations were over.  And for the doctor and his wife it was a
+glad day also.  On Christmas Day four years before they had lost
+a child.  On this Christmas, God had sent them another to fill
+the void in their hearts.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+CONCLUSION
+
+It was a strange thing for the homeless fiddler to find himself
+the object of affectionate care and solicitude--to feel, when he
+woke up in the morning, no anxiety about the day's success.  He
+could not have found a better home.  Naturally attractive, and
+without serious faults, Phil soon won his way to the hearts of
+the good doctor and his wife.  The house seemed brighter for his
+presence, and the void in the heart of the bereaved mother was
+partially filled.  Her lost Walter would have been of the same
+age as Phil, had he lived.  For his sake she determined to treat
+the boy, who seemed cast by Providence upon her protection, as a
+son.
+
+To begin with, Phil was carried to the village tailor, where an
+ample wardrobe was ordered for him.  His old clothes were not
+cast aside, but kept in remembrance of his appearance at the time
+he came to them.  It was a novel sensation for Phil, when, in his
+new suit, with a satchel of books in his hand, he set out for the
+town school.  It is needless to say that his education was very
+defective, but he was far from deficient in natural ability, and
+the progress he made was so rapid that in a year he was on equal
+footing with the average of boys at his age.  He was able at that
+time to speak English as fluently as his companions, and, but for
+his dark eyes, and clear brown complexion, he might have been
+mistaken for an American boy.
+
+His popularity with his schoolfellows was instant and decided. 
+His good humor and lively disposition might readily account for
+that, even if his position as the adopted son of a prominent
+citizen had no effect.  But it was understood that the doctor,
+who had no near relatives, intended to treat Phil in all respects
+as a son, even to leaving him his heir.
+
+It may be asked whether the padrone gave up all efforts to
+recover the young fiddler.  He was too vindictive for this.  Boys
+had run away from him before, but none had subjected him to such
+ignominious failure in the effort for their recovery.  It would
+have fared ill with our young hero if he had fallen again into
+the hands of his unscrupulous enemy.  But the padrone was not
+destined to recover him.  Day after day Pietro explored the
+neighboring towns, but all to no purpose.  He only visited the
+principal towns, while Phil was in a small town, not likely to
+attract the attention of his pursuers.
+
+A week after his signal failure in Newark, the padrone inserted
+an advertisement in the New York Herald, offering a reward of
+twenty-five dollars for the recovery of Phil.  But our hero was
+at that time wandering about the country, and the advertisement
+did not fall under the eyes of those with whom he came in
+contact.  At length the padrone was compelled to own himself
+baffled and give up the search.  He was not without hopes,
+however, that sometime Phil would turn up.  He did hear of him
+again through Pietro, but not in a way to bring him any nearer
+his recovery.
+
+This is the way it happened:
+
+One Saturday morning in March, about three months after Phil had
+found a home, the doctor said to him: "Phil, I am going to New
+York this morning on a little business; would you like to come
+with me?"
+
+Phil's eyes brightened.  Though he was happy in his village home,
+he had longed at times to find himself in the city streets with
+which his old vagabond life had rendered him so familiar.
+
+"I should like it very much," he answered, eagerly.
+
+"Then run upstairs and get ready.  I shall start in fifteen
+minutes."
+
+Phil started, and then turned back.
+
+"I might meet Pietro, or the padrone," he said, hesitating.
+
+"No matter if you do, I shall be with you.  If they attempt to
+recover you, I will summon the police."
+
+The doctor spoke so confidently that Phil dismissed his momentary
+fear.  Two hours later they set foot in New York.
+
+"Now, Phil," said the doctor, "my business will not take long. 
+After that, if there are any friends you would like to see, I
+will go with you and find them."
+
+"I should like to see Paul Hoffman," said Phil.  "I owe him two
+dollars and a half for the fiddle."
+
+"He shall be paid," said the doctor.  "He shall lose nothing by
+trusting you."
+
+An hour afterward, while walking with the doctor in a side
+street, Phil's attention was attracted by the notes of a
+hand-organ.  Turning in the direction from which they came, he
+met the glance of his old enemy, Pietro.
+
+"It is Pietro," he said, quickly, touching the arm of his
+companion.
+
+Pietro had not been certain till then that it was Phil.  It
+looked like him, to be sure, but his new clothing and general
+appearance made such a difference between him and the Phil of
+former days that he would have supposed it only an accidental
+resemblance.  But Phil's evident recognition of him convinced him
+of his identity.  He instantly ceased playing, and, with eager
+exultation, advanced to capture him.  Phil would have been
+alarmed but for his confidence in the doctor's protection.
+
+"I have got you at last, scelerato," said Pietro, roughly,
+grasping Phil by the shoulder with a hostile glance.
+
+The doctor instantly seized him by the collar, and hurled him
+back.
+
+"What do you mean by assaulting my son?" he demanded, coolly.
+
+Pietro was rather astonished at this unexpected attack.
+
+"He is my brother," he said.  "He must go back with me."
+
+"He is not your brother.  If you touch him again, I will hand you
+to the police."
+
+"He ran away from my uncle," said Pietro.
+
+"Your uncle should have treated him better."
+
+"He stole a fiddle," said Pietro, doggedly.
+
+"He had paid for it over and over again," said the doctor. 
+"Phil, come along.  We have no further business with this young
+man."
+
+They walked on, but Pietro followed at a little distance.  Seeing
+this, Dr. Drayton turned back.
+
+"Young man," he said, "do you see that policeman across the
+street?"
+
+"Si, signore," answered Pietro.
+
+"Then I advise you to go in a different direction, or I shall
+request him to follow you."
+
+Pietro's sallow face was pale with rage.  He felt angry enough to
+tear Phil to pieces, but his rage was unavailing.  He had a
+wholesome fear of the police, and the doctor's threat was
+effectual.  He turned away, though with reluctance, and Phil
+breathed more freely.  Pietro communicated his information to the
+padrone, and the latter, finding that Phil had found a powerful
+protector, saw that it would be dangerous for him to carry the
+matter any further, and sensibly resolved to give up the chase.
+
+Of the padrone I have only further to say that some months later
+he got into trouble.  In a low drinking saloon an altercation
+arose between him and another ruffian one evening, when the
+padrone, in his rage, drew a knife, and stabbed his adversary. 
+He was arrested and is now serving out his sentence in Sing Sing.
+
+Pietro, by arrangement with him, took his place, stipulating to
+pay him a certain annual sum.  But he has taken advantage of his
+uncle's incarceration to defraud him, and after the first payment
+neglected to make any returns.  It may readily be imagined that
+this imbitters the padrone's imprisonment.  Knowing what I do of
+his fierce temper, I should not be surprised to hear of a
+murderous encounter between him and his nephew after his release
+from imprisonment, unless, as is probable, just before the
+release, Pietro should flee the country with the ill-gotten gains
+he may have acquired during his term of office.  Meanwhile the
+boys are treated with scarcely less rigor by him than by his
+uncle, and toil early and late, suffering hardships and
+privations, that Pietro may grow rich.
+
+Paul Hoffman had often thought of Phil, and how he had fared.  He
+was indeed surprised and pleased when the young fiddler walked up
+and called him by name.
+
+"Phil," he exclaimed, grasping his hand heartily, "I am very glad
+to see you.  Have you made a fortune?"
+
+"He has found a father," said Dr. Drayton, speaking for Phil,
+"who wants to thank you for your past kindness to his son."
+
+"It was nothing," said Paul, modestly.
+
+"It was a great deal to Phil, for, except your family, he had no
+friends."
+
+To this Paul made a suitable reply, and gave Phil and his new
+father an earnest invitation to dine with him.  This the doctor
+declined, but agreed to call at the rooms of Mrs. Hoffman, if
+Paul would agree to come and pass the next Sunday with Phil as
+his visitor.  Paul accepted the invitation with pleasure, and it
+is needless to say that he received a hearty welcome and agreed,
+in the approaching summer, to make another visit.
+
+And now we bid farewell to Phil, the young, street musician.  If
+his life henceforth shall be less crowded with adventures, and so
+less interesting, it is because he has been fortunate in securing
+a good home.  Some years hence the Doctor promises to give
+himself a vacation, and take Phil with him to Europe, where he
+will seek out his Italian home, and the mother with whom he has
+already opened communication by letter.  So we leave Phil in good
+hands, and with the prospect of a prosperous career.  But there
+are hundreds of young street musicians who have not met with his
+good fortune, but are compelled, by hard necessity, to submit to
+the same privations and hardships from which he is happily
+relieved.  May a brighter day dawn for them also!
+
+I hope my readers feel an interest in Paul Hoffman, the young
+street merchant, who proved so efficient a friend to our young
+hero.  His earlier adventures are chronicled in "Paul, the
+Peddler."  His later history will be chronicled in the next
+volume of this series, which will be entitled "Slow and Sure; or
+From the Sidewalk to the Shop."
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Phil, the Fiddler, by Alger
+