"What do you know about him?" he asked. "I don't know him; I've seed him," said the boy. "Where have you seen him?" asked Paul, rather astonished. "Down in Baxter street." "Does he live there?" asked Paul. "Yes; he keeps a barber shop there." Evidently the young Arab supposed that Julius Caesar, colored barber, within the precincts of the Five Points, was the one referred to by his questioner. Paul did not explain to him his mistake. "Have you got any father or mother?" "No," said the boy. "Where do you live?" "In Centre street." "What do you do for a living?" "Sometimes I black boots; sometimes I beg." "Who do you live with?" "Jack Morgan." "Is he any relation to you?" "I dunno," answered the boy. The conversation was here interrupted. The stews were placed on the table, with a plate of crackers. The boy's eyes glistened. He seized the spoon, and attacked his share with evident appetite. "Poor little chap!" thought Paul, sympathetically; "he doesn't often get a good dinner. To-day he shall have all he can eat." When the boy had finished, he said: "Will you have some pudding, or would you like some more oysters?" "I'd like the oysters, if it's all the same to you," answered Julius. "Another stew and some apple dumpling," ordered Paul. Julius was in appearance about twelve years of age. In reality he was fourteen, being small of his age. He had black hair and a dark complexion; his face was thin and his figure slender. He had the expression of one who was used to privation and knew how to bear it without much hope of anything better. His clothes were soiled and ragged, but his face was clean. Water was cheap, and he was unfashionably neat for the quarter in which he lived. The stew was brought, and an extra plate of bread and butter. "Now go ahead," said Paul. "Eat all you want." Julius needed no other invitation. He proceeded vigorously to accomplish the work before him, and soon both bread and oysters were disposed of. "Have you got enough?" asked Paul, smiling. "Yes," said Julius; "I'm full." Have you ever seen the satisfied look of an alderman as he rose from a sumptuous civic banquet? The same expression was visible on the face of the young Arab as he leaned back in his chair, with his hands thrust into his pockets. "Then," said Paul, "we may as well be going." The boy seized his ragged cap and followed his benefactor from the eating-house. When they reached the sidewalk, he turned to Paul and said: "That was a bully dinner." Paul understood that he intended to thank him, though his gratitude was not directly expressed. "I'm glad you liked it," said he; "but I must be going now." Julius looked after him until he turned the corner. "He's been good to me," he said to himself; "maybe I can do something for him some day."