The speed with which the train was running at the time Tom Gordon was pushed off was such that he was thrown forward with great violence upon the hard earth, where he lay senseless, with his leg broken and a number of severe bruises about his body.

The only one who saw his fall was the miscreant that caused it; and it is not necessary to say he made no alarm, and the train went whirling on to its destination.

Tom's employers knew nothing of the accident; and putting on a temporary substitute, they were constrained to believe, after several days' silence, that he had left their service, some two or three boys coming forward to declare that they had heard Tom say that such was his intention, as he had received a good offer on the Erie road. The substitute was given to understand that his situation was permanent, and the ill-used Tom was thus thrown out of his situation.

After lying an hour or so on the ground he came to, and finding he was in a sad plight, he set up a series of yells, which soon brought assistance in the shape of a passing farmer, who lifted him into his wagon, carted him home, and played the good Samaritan.

A physician was summoned, the broken limb set, and the patient was told that all he had to do was to do nothing but lie still and get strong. The farmer agreed that he should stay there, especially as the patient gave him to understand that he would pay him for the service.

Here we leave Thomas Gordon for the time in good hands, while we turn our attention to his friend, James Travers, who has been waiting too long for notice.

The reader will recall that the morning succeeding the rescue of the little girl from the river the two boys started out to hunt up something to do in New York. The experience of both was quite similar through the greater portion of the day, and we have dwelt fully upon what befell Tom.

Jim, with no better success, and fully as discouraged, set out on his return, as the cold, wintry night was closing in, and he reached the long, open street along the river without any incident worth notice; but while walking wearily along, and when not far from his lodging-place, he was accosted by a well-dressed man, who placed his hand on his shoulder and said, in a pleasant voice,--

"I think you are looking for something to do, my son?"

"Yes, sir," was Jim's reply, his heart bounding with renewed hope at the prospect of employment.

"Are you willing to do anything?"

"Anything that's honest and right."

"I wouldn't ask you to do what was not right," added the stranger, as if he was hurt at the idea.

"What is it you want me to do?"

"How would you like to work on a vessel?"

"I was never on a ship in my life," said Jim, frightened at the thought of the perils of the sea.

"That don't make any difference: you wouldn't have to serve as a sailor, but as a sort of a cabin-boy; and not exactly that, either. I am the owner of the boat, and want a clerk--a boy who can write letters, keep my accounts, and make himself generally useful. I like your looks, and you impress me as a boy of education."

"I think I could do all you ask; but where does your vessel sail?"

"Oh, she ain't a foreign ship, only a small schooner, engaged in the coasting-trade down along the Jersey shore, sometimes going as far as the capes, and occasionally making a trip up the Hudson. As navigation has closed on the river, we sha'n't go up there before Spring."

"I think I would like the job," said Jim, who felt as if the vision shown by Aladdin's lamp was opening before him. "What pay will you give if I suit you?"

"I am willing to pay well for the boy. It will be twenty dollars a week and found"---

"What!" exclaimed the astounded Jim, "did you say twenty dollars a week?"

"That's just what I said. I'm one of those who are willing to pay well for what they want."

"I'll take the situation; when do you want me to go?"

"As soon as possible--what do you say for to-morrow?"

"That will suit, as I have nothing in the world to do; I only want to run down to the hotel and tell Tom."

"Who's Tom?"

"He's the boy that came with me from home; he'll be mightily pleased when he hears the news."

"Suppose you walk down with me, and take a look at the boat; it isn't far off."

As Jim could see no reason for refusing, and as he hadn't the slightest thought of wrong, he replied that he would be glad to accept the invitation; and the two started off toward the wharves.

The well-dressed gentleman, who gave his name as Mr. Hornblower, kept up a running chat of the most interesting nature to Jim, who was sure he was one of the finest persons he ever met. The walk was considerably longer than Jim expected, and the man acted as if he had lost his way. He finally recovered himself, and, pausing where a number of all kinds of boats were gathered, he said that his schooner, the Simoon, lay on the outside, and was to be reached by passing over the decks of several other boats.

These lay so close, that there was no difficulty or danger in traveling over them, and they soon reached the deck of a trim-looking schooner, which was as silent and apparently as deserted as the tomb. Reaching the cabin, a light was seen shining through the crevices, and Mr. Hornblower drew the small door aside, and invited his young companion to descend.

Jim did so, and found himself in an ordinary-looking cabin, quite well furnished, and supplied with a couple of hammocks.

A small stove was burning, and the temperature was exceedingly pleasant after the bleak air outside, where the raw wind blew strongly up the bay.

"I woul............