Having eaten his dinner, he returned to the depot, easily found his train, and in a very short time was being whirled along over the smooth road that leads to Albany. He had never been twenty miles from the city in his life, and as the train sped on, affording him continual glimpses of the broad Hudson, he wondered how much further the country extended, and whether the whole of the United States was like that part of it which he saw from his car window. The train was still many miles from Albany when the darkness succeeded the twilight, the moon and stars came out, and the little street boy looked down upon the great river that was bathed in moonlight and saw it at its best. After awhile he felt himself growing drowsy, then he stirred himself up on the red plush seat, closed his eyes, and did not open them again until the next morning. When he awoke the car was passing slowly through the street of a town, and Skinny wondered if it could be possible that they were back again in New York, after having completed the circuit of the earth. It was some minutes before he could collect his scattered senses, and then the train stopped, the passengers streamed out, and Skinny learned that they were in Syracuse, and that everybody was going out for breakfast. Thrusting his hand in his inner pocket he found that his money was still there, and as he entered the big dining-room in the railroad depot, he chuckled to think of the meal that he was going to enjoy at somebody else’s expense. It was an ordinary railroad restaurant, and a great many of the well-dressed passengers were turning up their nose at the coffee, which was served in thick china cups, and at the sandwiches, triangles of pie, bits of cold chicken that were displayed on the counter under glass cases, like curiosities in a museum, but the little street boy from New York thought it one of the finest places he had ever been in, and the breakfast which he consumed was certainly superior to anything that he had been accustomed to. Breakfast over, he strolled out on the platform, and, with his hands in his pockets and his sharp eyes noting everything and everybody that came within their range of vision, he walked up and down whistling in a shrill manner, and creating no small amount of amusement. Having entertained the depot loungers for a few moments, he sought out the Oswego train, climbed aboard it, and just as it was on the point of starting, waved his hand cheerfully to the group who were watching him from the depot. At Oswego he ate another breakfast, and then boarded the train for Rocky Point, a small village on the shore of Lake Ontario. CHAPTER XXVI.