It will be admitted that Tom Gordon and Jim Travers had met with a pretty stirring experience, as a result of the visit of the circus and menagerie to Briggsville. Tom had not been able to attend the performance; but it may be said he was favored with a little "circus" of his own, in which he played the part of star performer. But all's well that ends well, and he had the pleasure of walking into his humble home and turning over to his mother the handsome reward paid for the restoration of Tippo Sahib, comparatively unharmed, to the owner. He was so well liked by teacher and playmates that all congratulated him. There was no jealousy of his good fortune, for there was none more deserving, and, it may be added, no more in need of the material help given by that one hundred dollars.

But what has been told was but an incident in the life of the two boys, whose fortunes I have set out to tell. A remarkable train of circumstances in due course involved the lads in a series of incidents which had an important bearing on their future lives, and taught a lesson which young lads cannot learn too often in this world.

Tom and Jim devoted themselves more closely than ever to their school studies, and, as a result, became two of the best-informed pupils at that crude institution of learning. They grew to be strong, sturdy youths, as fond of athletic sports as they were of study, and with a promise of the right sort of success in life. Neither dreamed of what the immediate future had in store for them.

A year after the incident of the tiger, Tom's Aunt Cynthia peacefully died, and a few month later, to his almost inconsolable grief, his beloved mother passed away. Thus he was left an orphan, without brother or sister. The blow was a crushing one, and for weeks he wished to die and join the dear ones that had gone before. He grieved until his friends feared he was falling into a decline, and became seriously concerned for him.

It has been truly said, however, that no person in the enjoyment of health and vigor of body can long be crushed by affliction. He will rally sooner or later. Thus it proved in the case of Tom Gordon. His former strength and spirits gradually came back to him. There were moments and hours when he was weighed down by his great loss; but it was gradually softened by the passage of time, until the day came when his friends believed he had fully recovered from the sorrow that had nearly driven the life from his body and soul.

One sad feature of his affliction was that he was left almost penniless. With all the thrift, frugality, and self-denial of mother and aunt, they had been able to leave the youth hardly anything at all when they died. The humble home, with all its belongings, was sold for less than the mortgage, and Tom found himself with little besides the clothes he wore and a few precious mementoes of those that had passed away.

In a community where he was so favorably known, it was impossible that he should suffer actual want. More than one home was offered him, not only until he could find some situation or engage in some trade, but as long as he chose to avail himself of it.

Tom was forced to accept some one of these offers, and he went home with Jim Travers until he could decide what to do. He knew he was welcome there, and could stay as long as he wished, though he had no thought of becoming a burden upon the kind friends that had opened their doors to him.

Now, it was this change in the surroundings in the daily life of Tom Gordon that led to the singular incidents I have set out to tell.

Jim Travers lived alone with his father, who was in fair circumstances. His mother had died in his infancy; and his only sister, Maggie, was his playmate for a few years longer, when she departed to join the loved one that had preceded her. The husband and father became a lonely and bowed man, whose years were far less than they seemed. Although a farmer in a small way, he committed the sad error of engaging in stock speculations, more with a view of diverting his mind from his gnawing grief than with the hope of bettering his fortune. It is hardly necessary to relate what followed. He was successful for a time, and improved his financial standing. He gladly welcomed Tom Gordon beneath his roof, for he knew his own boy could not have a playmate whose company would be more improving to him. Then Mr. Travers dipped more deeply into speculation. With brighter prospects than ever, there came the fateful hour in Wall Street, when every penny was swept from him.

"I am a beggar!" he gasped, when the whole dreadful truth broke upon him; "and I am too old to begin life again. It is better that I should die."

And die he did in the great city of New York. The shock was fatal; and his body was brought back to Briggsville, and laid to rest beside the forms of his wife and little Maggie, that had died long before. Jim was dazed by the unexpected blow. It became the privilege of Tom Gordon to act as his comforter, but it was a long time before the little fellow came out from the valley of shadow into the life-giving sunlight again.

But here was the solemn situation: Tom Gordon and Jim Travers were orphans, with no near relatives, and with only their own hands to earn their daily bread. What was the best thing for them to do?

This was the grave question which the two boys sat down to answer in the gloom of a wintry evening, when they were about fourteen years of age. They had received plenty of counsel, and much of it was excellent. The teacher, the minister, and numerous good neighbors had been as kind as they could possibly be, and the youths knew no real hardship could come to them as long as they stayed in or near the place where they were born.

But they were not satisfied to do so. They felt they ought to strike out for themselves, and Briggsville was not the place to do it. The opportunities were too few.

They talked for a long time in an aimless way, discussing numerous schemes, but without agreeing upon any.

"Jim, let's go to New York."

Tom made the proposition as though it had come to him that moment, when in truth it had been in his mind from the first, as it was with Jim, who was on the point of uttering it, but was waiting for his friend, because he was a few months older and took the lead in all matters.

"I wonder if that wouldn't be the best thing to do," remarked Jim, like one to whom the idea was new.

"Neither of us has ever been in New York. It is a great place, full of dangers of all kinds, but there are chances for every one to get along, if he will do what's right and isn't afraid to work."

"If we should tell the people what we have in mind, they would advise us to stay here or to try Philadelphia."

"We must pass Philadelphia to get to New York, but I don't feel like staying there, do you, Jim?"

"No; I don't fancy the place. Father took me there once when I was a wee younker, and it struck me as being slow."

Tom laughed at the thought of a little fellow being impressed that way by one of the leading cities in the union. He, too, had been in the large and handsome town, but for some reason, which he could not explain, had formed a prejudice against it. He shook his head at the proposition of trying their fortunes there.

"Philadelphia isn't big enough for us," he remarked quizzically; "New York is the only place where we can spread and grow."

"Then I propose we go to New York to seek our fortune. What do you say?"

"We'll stick together."

And the young friends reached their hands toward each other and clasped them in the dim light of Jim Travers's room.

It was an important decision they had reached, and they talked over the matter for a long time. Each had quite a little sum of money, which they had saved with scrupulous care. They had good serviceable clothing, with something extra in the way of change. The executors of Mr. Travers had completed their duty and made their report to court. As in the case of the Widow Gordon, not a penny was left for the boy, and the house and everything it contained was to pass into the hands of strangers.

Jim Travers and Tom Gordon were occupying their single room on sufferance. The new-comers were to take possession on the first of the following month, and a hint had been given the boys which it was impossible for them to misunderstand. Their room was preferable to their company.

"Next Tuesday is the first," remarked Jim; "I suppose we can stay here the few days until then."

"That's less than a week. What's the use of waiting when we have made up our minds to go?" was the pertinent question of Tom. "I prefer not to meet those folks that are coming here."

"That's the way I feel," assented the younger, striving to repress his ardor over the prospect. "They will put on airs, turn up their noses at us, and make themselves at home. I can't bear," he added, his voice slightly trembling, "to see them parading through the house which father owned, and walking into his room as if no one else had the right to go there."

"Well, I'm glad, Jim, that we think alike. Tomorrow we'll bid our friends good-by and take the afternoon train to New York."

"That suits me. It would hardly be right to slip off without saying anything to the fellows. We'll call on them all."

"Yes; that is right. I promised Sam Harper to let him know about it."

"I suppose you did, and you won't forget to tell Nellie."

Jim laughed at his own sly remark, and the handsome Tom blushed at this reference to the pretty sister of his playmate.

The hour grew late, but they sat a long time talking of what they would do when they made their home in the great metropolis. Bridget, the old servant, warned them once or twice that it was past bedtime; but seeing her words were unnoticed, she withdrew and left them together.

Ah, when are the dreams of life so radiant as in early youth? What pictures are so glowing, so beautiful, so vivid, so real, as those which come to the boy when he stands with his feet on the threshold, and looks far out over the limitless fields which spread before his view? The air "lets finer sunlight through," and the skies are more golden than they can ever be again. It is the hour when to him nothing in the whole wide world is impossible. It is a sweet, soul-stirring vision which, alas, too often is darkened or swept away by storm and mists and darkness and death.

The programme of the two boys was carried out, with some modification, the next day. They found, when they came to go around among their friends to bid them good-by, that it took longer than they had counted on. They separated; and when night arrived, Tom was urged so cordially to stay and take supper with Sam Harper that he did not refuse.

Then he had to remain a while in the evening, which proved to be a most pleasant one to the visitor. The parents of his playmate were sensible people, who, finding the caller had made up his mind to go, did not attempt to dissuade him. On the contrary, they reminded him that under heaven he had every reason to hope for success.

"The instruction received from your good mother," said Mr. Harper, "I am sure can never be forgotten by you. You have a fair education for your age; and I say to you as I did to Jimmy Travers, when he stopped here a while ago, be honest, truthful, obliging always, and your reward is certain. You will meet with disappointments and all sorts of trials, but keep up your courage. Never let go; hang fast; take whatever comes in your way and do it with all your might, and success is sure, sooner or later."

"I have made up my mind to that," replied Tom modestly. "Jimmy and I don't imagine that half the merchants in New York will be waiting at the ferry for us, and will scramble over each other to see who shall have our services."

The gentleman smiled at the picture, and his wife added,--

"There are so many dangers and pitfalls that I tremble at the thought of two boys like Tom and Jim going into such a great city, where they do not know a living person."

"It is a matter for serious thought, but hundreds have done the same before them, and have achieved success."

"Have not some failed?"

"Doubtless the majority have failed to attain what they expected. But the same is true right here in Briggsville, and is true everywhere. I hold the doctrine, that to the boy who is strong, rugged, honest, willing, not only to work, but to wait, that success is bound to come sooner or later."

Tom was much encouraged by these wise words, and felt a strengthening of the resolve he had formed the night before.

It was bright, pretty Nellie who now spoke.

"Won't it be splendid when Tom becomes a rich merchant, able to live in his fine house and have his horse and carriages and servants?"

"I am afraid it will be a long time before I get that far," replied the lad with a blush; "but I shall do it if there is any way possible."

"Riches are not the highest object in this life, though they are well enough in their way. Don't think so much about them as about doing your duty. Be content to begin at the bottom of the ladder. It is an old saying, but there never was a truer one, that you will always find plenty of room at the top."

After some more pleasant conversation, Tom shook hands with his friends and bade them good-by. He ventured to give the delicate palm of Nellie a little warmer squeeze than he had ever dared to do before, and looked meaningly in her eyes. But she was diffident and did not return the pressure, and he was not certain of the precise meaning of the look she gave him at parting.

He felt a trifle uncomfortable, while walking homeward in the crisp moonlight.

"I suppose Nellie would feel quite proud of me if I ever become a rich man; but suppose I don't. She always was a proud girl, and likely enough will turn up her nose if I fail, which I won't!" he added, compressing his lips and walking faster.

Tom found Jim at home and waiting for him. They sat up late again talking over their grand scheme of seeking their fortune, and even after they retired the hum of their conversation continued until far into the night.

The following morning they turned their backs upon Briggsville forever. The ride to Philadelphia was not far. They had decided to stop there for a time, as there was no call for haste. Neither held a thought of making their stay permanent. They strolled down Chestnut Street, looking at the pleasing sights that are always to be met in that fashionable thoroughfare, viewed some of the fine structures, and stared until they were tired.

But they were eager to go on. The metropolis of the country was their destination, and they would never be satisfied until they reached it. Accordingly, when the afternoon was well along, they boarded the train and sped away to the northward. Everything thus far, even if interesting, had been dull and commonplace, but sooner than they anticipated, they entered upon the most stirring and momentous experience of their lives.