He learned that his uncle’s store was in the lower part of Broadway, while his house was in West Seventeenth Street, between Fifth and Sixth Avenues.

“I should like to see what sort of a house Uncle Benjamin lives in,” thought Herbert.

There was nothing to prevent his gratifying this wish, as he had plenty of time on his hands.  If he had had more money, he would have taken the horse cars, but in his present circumstances this would be imprudent.  He decided, as it was only five o’clock, to take a leisurely walk up Broadway, noticing his uncle’s place of business on the way.

A few minutes brought him in front of the latter—­an imposing-looking building, with all the appearance of belonging to a prosperous merchant.  Appearances are deceitful, to be sure, and no doubt there are some merchants, as outwardly prosperous, who might profitably change places with their head clerks.  But Herbert naturally judged from appearances, and he could not help contrasting in his mind his own condition with that of his uncle’s.  But he was too manly to be despondent on this account, and thought rather, “I am young and ready to work, Some time, if I am patient and work hard.  I may be as well off as Uncle Benjamin.”  The thought of applying to him for assistance was as far off as ever.

He pursued his way uptown, finding it a longer walk than he anticipated, arriving at half-past five at Union Square.  At the upper end he turned off, and went down Seventeenth Street.

Carefully noting the numbers, he at length found his uncle’s house.  It was a handsome, substantial city mansion, and seemed appropriate as the residence of a rich New York merchant.

“So my uncle lives here,” thought Herbert, and there rose involuntarily in his mind the memory of the humble Western home where he and his mother had struggled against poverty, while his uncle, who was evidently so amply provided with the world’s goods, coldly held aloof, and forbore to offer the assistance which he could so well afford.

“If I had a sister, I could never treat her like that,” thought Herbert, indignantly.  “He would not help my mother.  I will starve before I ask him to help me.”

He paused a moment on the opposite side of the street to look at his uncle’s house.  While he was standing there, a boy of about his own age, apparently, came down the street whistling, and ascended the steps of his uncle’s house.

“I wonder if that is my cousin Tom,” thought Herbert.  He knew the names of his cousins from his mother, though he had never seen them.

While he looked, he was struck by something familiar in the appearance of this boy.  Where had he seen him before?

All at once it flashed upon him.  It was the same boy he had seen in the counting-room of Godfrey He knew him by his dandified dress and his face, which he had noticed at the time.