Just then Pat looked up in his face, and started in surprise. "You're Tom yourself," he said. "Where'd you get them clo'es?" "Do you dare to compare me to a bootblack?" said Tom. "My name is Gilbert." "You look like Tom's twin-brother, then," said Pat, bewildered. Tom didn't reply, but walked off in a dignified manner, after paying Pat, swinging his cane in the most approved style. "Don't he look like Tom, though?" soliloquized Pat, bewildered. Tom enjoyed the joke, but didn't venture to laugh till he was out of sight. "No wonder Pat didn't know," he thought. "I ain't sure I'd know myself, it I'd gone to sleep a bootblack and waked up as I am now." Tom made his purchases, took supper at a restaurant, and went to bed early. It was his last night in the city. On the next day he was to start for the West, in quest of fortune. CHAPTER IX. BESSIE BENTON. Tom called the next day at the hospital, and left ten dollars, finding this to be the right amount for Jacob's coffin. He took a last look at the old man, so long his companion, and then, feeling that he could do no more, went on his way. He next went to a railroad office, on Broadway, and bought a through-ticket to Cincinnati. This was the city where, according to Jacob's story, his father had been in business, and he himself had been born. His inquiries for the uncle who had defrauded him must commence here. Having taken his seat in the cars, he was led to make an examination of his pocket-book. He found it, by no means, well filled. A hundred dollars had seemed to him a good deal of money, but he had expended half of it for clothes. His railway ticket, and the money he left at the hospital, consumed thirty dollars more, and he had, therefore, but twenty dollars left. "That ain't much to set up as a gentleman on," said Tom to himself. "I didn't know it cost so much to get along; I'll have to go to work afore long." Tom was not in the least daunted, however; he had always been accustomed to earn his living, and didn't doubt that he could do it now. He had little money, but he had his wits and two strong arms, and he thought he could keep out of the poor-house. No anxious fears for the future marred the pleasure which the journey afforded him. With an eye of interest he regarded the rich and productive country through which the train was speeding at the rate of twenty-five miles an hour. There is more than one route from New York to Cincinnati, a fact of which Tom knew nothing, and it was only by accident that he had selected that which led through Buffalo. He stopped over a night at this enterprising city, and at an early hour entered the cars to go on to the chief city in Ohio. The passengers were nearly all seated. In fact, every seat was occupied, except that beside Tom, when a stout, elderly gentleman entered the car, followed by an attractive young girl of fourteen. "There don't seem to be any seats, Bessie," he said.