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HUESTIS, Halifax. 1898 Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and ninety-eight, by William Briggs, at the Department of Agriculture. tfi' To those who have adopted the Motto, " For the wrong that needs resistance. For the right that needs assistance. For the future in the distance. And the good that I can do," I This book is gratefully «<^*«'fnttd. New York, 1898. CONTENTS. BOOK I.— Bread. Chapter Pane I. College Cronies 3 II. A Family Council 10 III. Sister and Brother 17 IV. Mark Brompton's Nephew 26 V. A Bohemian Outing 32 VI. A Reverend Radical 40 VII. Making Stones into Bread 50 VIII. The Dream and the Reality 58 IX. Angels of Flesh and Blood 64 X. An Evening at Dr. Disney's 72 XI. A Sunday on the East Side 82 XII. Why Elinor Became •• Sister Nora" 90 XIII. Hugh Dunbar Has a Revelation 99 XIV. A Tortoise and His Shell 107 XV. The Steamer and the Barge . . 1 16 XVI. A Social Science Congress 126 BOOK II.— Pride. XVII. The Brompton Household 141 XVIII. The Firm of Linsey & Woolsey 152 XIX. A Downtown Boarding House 162 XX. The Marriage Syndicate 170 XXI. Wee Jamie 182 V I VI CONTENTS. Chapter Page XXII. A Trades Union Meeting 193 XXIII. Mrs. Gubbins Asks Questions 206 XXIV. Broadway by Gaslight 215 XXV. Dick Whittington's Cat 227 XXVI. The Real Dr. Disney 236 XXVII. Madge is Worldly Wise 246 XXVIII. The Mysterious Consultation 254 BOOK III.—Ambition. XXIX. John Disney's Scheme 265 XXX. Madge Visits the Mission 275 XXXI. Dixon Faber : Boy and Man 284 XXXII. Ethel Brompton's Choice 296 XXXIII. John Disney Hits Hard 305 XXXIV. An Evening at Mr. Keen's 318 XXXV. A Black Eye 328 XXXVI. Concerning Mrs. Smithers 337 XXXVII. Ethel Brompton's Wedding 348 XXXVIII. Dr. Bland of St. Ezekiel's 360 XXXIX. Edward Vaughen's Sad Discovery 367 XL. Mr. Blinks and Mr. Winks 375 Epilogue 384 Pagt »93 206 215 227 236 246 254 BOOK I.-BREAD Dwellers in Gotham. CHAPTER I. College Cronies. (^ CT>HEIIE is nothing about books that to mc is I 80 dull, 80 dreary, and bo useless as a X preface. If an author has anything to say, why not say it in the book itself, and not weary one with prologues and announcements ? " and with an impatient gesture the speaker shut the book which he held in his hand; but, finding that this did not quite meet tlie necessities of the case, he began pacing up and down the room with considerable vigor. " What you say is true, but why waste so much energy upon such a trifle? Here you are striding around and consuming yourself generally, simply be- cause your author invited you to enter his house by a graceful, winding path instead of the common, pro- saic door," was the answer of a young man who was languidly smoking a "bull-dog" briar, and with the same languor was watching the tiny smoke rings floating over his head and beyond the couch upon which he was comfortably stretched. "I don't object to winding paths, or even drive- ways and avenues, if they are necessary, but when a man's house is on the street, and that street a public r' I I I \ >■ 4 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. thoroughfare, why the way iu should be through a series of vestibules all posters and placards is not quite clear to my mind;" and the eyes still glowed, tliough with less fire, and the striding was not quite so vehement. " Ah I my dear boy, the number of things which are not quite clear to your mind reach out beyond the limits of even my comprehension. It grieves me to ;hink that the cloudiness and general obscura- tion of which you complain are natural ; but you are young, and your case is by no means hopeless. * Don't give up the ship,' and remember I am your friend ;" and with an indolence worthy of an Oriental he allowed his eyes listlessly to follow the rings of smoke in the direction of the open window. " Well, if it pleases you to think that I am dense and sublimely stupid, you will be sufficiently just to make proper allowance for my associations. One thing, however, you have not done, and that is, made me as easy and indifferent as you are. I still take an interest in things and in people, and the concerns of this world are matters of concern to me ; but you look on and smile on, like a graven cherub in some cathedral ; " and the tone, though of good-humored banter, was edged with delicate reproof. " I thought it was coming ! Now bring on your * Macedonian cry,' also the * sad undertone of life,' and don't forget * the pitiful and pathetic struggle.' It is fully three days since you aired the * woes and wrongs ' and the * sacred rights trampled.' Meantime let me so arrange these pillows that the body of my flesh may not impede the high movement of your COLLEGE CRONIES. soul ; " and, so saying, he assumed an air of patient endurance. "O, thou well-fed, well-clad, well-formed Galliol Little dost thou care for the riot in the market place, or the angry mob shouting and struggling. For Gallio fares sumptuously every day. He has a handsome allowance from his father ; he can lit up his apart- ments as he pleases ; upon him no burden or obliga- tion rests. Then why should he trouble or vex his complacent soul with the * woes and wrongs ' which sit so lightly on his tongue, or with the * Macedonian cry ' which he has never heard ? " "Capital! You have struck a new lead, old fel- low. That Gallio idea is fine ; but now, as a worthy Roman who had the good sense to mind his own business, he commends hiniself most refreshingly. I am glad you brought him with you this afternoon. Bring liini again, and I would suggest him as some- thing of an example for yourself. As between Paul, the iconoclast, and Demetrius, the labor agitator, I would do just as Gallio did — drive the whole raft of wranglers away and let them settle their dispute else- where;" and the smoke rings curled as gracefully as ever, and were followed with the same languid in- terest. "Yes, but wasn't it cowardly — a mean evasion of responsibility ? It was his place to give judgment ; he was there to settle just such disputes, and for a man arbitrarily to dispose of the whole business as he did shows an utter indifference to the claims of jus- tice ; " and the eyes had now regained their former •'-*?5^ glow, and the face was full of earnestness. J"*: •I V If If f \ 6 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. " Now, Yaughen, as your * guide, philosopher, and friend,' let me give you some good advice. It is very evident that you don't understand Gallio ; this, Jiowever, is only natural, as he was before your time. It is a disadvantage to be either behind or before your age. David, Israel's favorite king, had the good sense to ' serve his own generation,' which accounts for his general success. These Utopian nien wno insist upon climbing the hills of futurity and plan- ning for the interests of unborn millions are exceed- ingly tiresome. It is true that Solomon did not say, * Make hay while the sun shines,' but he did say, * The churning of milk bringeth forth butter,' which means practically the same thing. Take my advice, and churn milk. Improve the breed and condition of the cows ; see that the pasturage is good ; get the latest and most improved churn ; let butter be your objective point. The world insists upon your making butter, and the more of it you can make and market the better for yourself and all concerned." The place was a New England college town ; the^ speakers were Edward Vaughen and John Disney; the time was the month of June, and the year was early in the nineties. The room was Disney's, but the close companionship of four years had given Yaughen a sense of ownership little less, if, indeed, anything, than that of the legal occupant. Entering college at the same time, both fairly studious and having many things in common, the young men be- came fast friends, and now that they were to separate within a few weeks much of their last days were spent together. COLLEGE CRONIES. When Yaughen spoke of Disney as a well-fed, well-clad, and well-formed Gallio he was justified in large measure, for tliere was in Disney's bearing and appearance every indication of ample means and luxurious tastes. His room was richly furnished, though the effect was thoroughly masculine. True, no imposing pugilists in warlike attitudes, with hands about the size of a huge dumpling and very much in the foreground, occupied the place of honor over the mantelpiece ; neither was there the usual group of celebrities whose fields of distinction varied all the way from dime museums to Metropolitan Opera Houses ; nor was there any pretentious display of Indian clubs and golf sticks and fishing rods so arranged as to suggest the athlete and the sportsman, an arrangement, by the way, often only a delusion and a snare. Still, despite its daintiness and color and the absence of anything suggestive of the " sport," the room had a virility distinctively its own, and whicli no one could call in question. The same was true of Disney himse]:^ ; for he could pull an oar, swing a bat, don the gloves — in short, do anything that was expected of a strong, active young fellow. Among certain of the college men he was very popular, for though he could say sharp things, yet he was never ungenerous nor hurtful, and his keen weapon rarely flashed save for amusement. Vaughen afforded him rare enjoyment, for Yaughen was ardent, full of sympathy, easily aroused, rather inclined, however, to heroics, and upon his favorite themes he would declaim and orate ,. k ^^. M DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. I ill 1(1 I <:\ "i in a dramatic but somewhat tragic way. Then Vaiighen had tendencies toward socialism which he aired with much freedom and fluency, but as he knew even less of socialism than of the xSoi'thwest Passage these tendencies were fairly vague and indefinite. But, like all young men of his temperament, he was shy of definitions, and as for cold, rigorous logic, he treated it nnich as the priest and the Levite did the poor fellow who lay on the roadside between Jeru- salem and Jericho. Nevertheless it was really pleas- ant to hear him so earnestly espouse the cause of the common people, and the fact that he knew nothing whatever concerning the real merits of the question added, if anything, to the satisfaction of listening to him. But orators have no right to be held down to the dead level of plain facts and common statistics. An imagination which was intended to fly at will in the upper heavens should not be treated as a barn- yard fowl. At least so John Disney reasoned, and, knowing that Edward Vaughen was not seriously embarrassed by either the extent or the accuracy of his information, he could not but enjoy his oratory. " You started in by saying something concerning i), preface," said Disney, " but with characteristic and becoming consistency you have wandered from your theme like the sheep from the fold, and unless some kind shepherd goes after you and brings you back you will be lost among the mountains." " I may have wandered from the preface, but I tell you, Disney, it is not the one sheep which ia hungry and homeless on the desolate hills; the ninety \ \ COLLEGE CRONIES. 1 3 7 Q k /• 8 e e i- 5- e n ;o s. n 1- 1, s and nine are there. Think of the want, the poverty, tlie hopeless misery — " " O, Vaiiglien I It is only a day or two since you went all over this, and with these same sheep too. Now, I don't like sheep. A sheep never had the same attraction for me that a goat has. There is something positively funny about a goat. A goat's eye has a twinkle as though there were mischief be- hind it, and the way in which a goat will stand up and face a frowning world is simply heroic. But a sheep is altogether too saintly. Don't, therefore, make such liarrowing and distressful appeals to me. I didn't make this world ; it was here before I came, and will be here when I am gone, and if you spend your time declaiming about *■ woes ' and * wrongs,' just remem- ber, my dear boy, that no butter will come from your cliurn, and as I have often urged upon you, butter, the right kind of butter, is a decided addition to bread. To get bread is comparatively easy, but to get bread and butter in harmonious and abundant re- lations is the problem of life. The bread board apart from the churn means barrenness, if not barbarism. Hobbs, who lives down in the town in a small tene- ment, and who can hardly make ends meet, he has bread, but no butter ; Dobbs, who lives up here on the hill in his big house and with every comfort, he has both bread and butter. See ? But my pipe has gone out ; let us do the same." 10 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. > i ii- CTIAPTER II. A Family Council. ^OIIN DISNEY was not provokingly and ag- \ grcssivcly rich, as Edward Vanghen might qJ seem to suggest, for while ho had a generous college allowance, still his father was neither a rail- road magnate nor a cotton king, and not even a com- mon millionaire. Dr. Disney, however, was on in- timate terms wuth many of these njagnates and kings, for he was a i)]iysician of extensive practice among some of the most wealthy and influential fam- ilies in New York, and enjoyed in consequence a very handsome revenue. When it is snid that Dr. Disney's services were in the most urgent demand by a certain class whoso ailments are not obtrusive nor alarming no reflection is intended, for Dr. Disney was skillful, and in some respects a master in his })r()fession ; but he had dis- covered that there were tliose who enjoyed the visits of a doctor, provided he maintained an irreproach- able brougham, and whose coming to a house con- duced to its importance and dignity. His brougham, therefore, was a model of its kind ; and seemed to partake of the bearing and character of its occupant. It was not somber, neither was it pretentious, yet it was essentially dfgnified and suggestive, and ^^(^ople instinctively looked from it to the house before which it stood, the one somehow reflecting upon the ^■ A FAMILY COUNCIL. n other. His horses, though full-hlooded aiul capable of good work wlicu required, behaved with a duo Kunse of the proprieties ; hence there was no jerky switching of tails, no imi)atient pawing and stamping of feet, no restless twitching and shaking of heads, such as other horses indulge in when the call has huen unreasonal'Iy prolonged. Y/ith a keen sense of tlie rank and dignity which they were required to nii'.mtaiii they pointedly refused to recognize any of their kin save thoiie who could claim j)orfect equality, and the contempt with which they received advances from a hired hack or a dry-goods wagon was in the liighest fonri of equine etiquette. As for the coachman, he was a Personage. His livery was sedate and impressive ; his face was l)oth proud and profound. With a bearing wliich nothing human could disturb he occupied his exalted position, scarcely dtiigning by a glance to notice the unhappy creatures who were comj)elled to use the .sid(3walk. But, while Dr. Disney's appointments met the de- mands of the most exacting, they were also in per- fect accord with liis own gracious and imposing per- sonality. Besides being dignified, Dr. Disney was of stalwart proportions, of handsome countenance, of stately figure, while, in addition, there was an air of conscious superiority which potently diffused itself, so that the very atmosphere in which he lived and moved and had his being seemed charged with mysterious suggestions of greatness and skill. Ko man in New York knew better the value of appearances, and no man knew better how to maintain them-^With seem- irr 12 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. M w I #►1 • ingly no intention of doing so. He was never af- fected, but always careful ; never excited, but always calm and deliberate ; and the quiet, digniJfied way in which he entered tiie home of a patient was a study in the art of deportment. "And how is our friend this morning?" was a favorite salutation, and by judicious use of emphasis and intonation he contrived to make " our friend " feel fairly comfortable, particularly if the sickness was largely imaginative — a circumstance by no means rare. Being a man, he could not well possess the " low, sweet voice " which is a woman's peculiar gift, but the masculinity of his tones was tempered with a nicety of shading that was simply exquisite. At the proper time many of his patients went to Newport, to the Berkshires, and to Europe for just that peculiar tonic or change of air which was essen- tial in each case, and, as a proof of his undoubted skill in diagnosis and interpretation of symptoms, in every instance the patient was sent to the very place which had been chosen before even the doctor gave his opinion ! His general methods were both popular and suc- cessful, and as his popularity gave him much per- sonal satisfaction, and his success yielded him a hand- some income, he had no special cause for complaint. Dr. Disney, however, was not a happy man. "No one looking at that face, which now at fifty was almost as ruddy and as free from the marks of care as in his early manhood, would suspect anything of mystery and sorrow, yet behind the open smile, the frank, blue eye, the cheery, cordial greeting, A FAMILY COUNCIL. 13 IS, in siic- per- Ihand- »laint. No was care ig of [mile, ^ting, there was something which now and then cast a deep shadow full upon his patli, causing an anxiety at times so intense as to banisli sleep, and to make him seem but the semblance of his former self. Even on the street, when driving to tlio homes of liis patients, something like a key would unlock the mystic doors ; a strained, anxious look would come upon him ; for the monr lit he seemed haunted, startled, but his strong will soon reasserted itself, so that when ho left the carriage and went up the steps of the house to which he had been summoned there was no trace of agitation wliatever, and ho was the same calm, suave physician as before. *' John's letters have given me some concern of late," he said to Mrs. Disney, as they sat in the library in the rare enjoyment of an evening free from any professional or social engagement, and when at such times family councils usually were held. " In what way ? " replied Mrs. Disney, though the reply was in the form of a question, and accom- panied by a look of seri inquiry. " Well, I hardly know, but somehow a feeling of uneasiness is associated with almost every letter of his, more especially during the past few months." " He has not been overexerting himself, I hope ? " and this time it was the mother voice which gave ac- cent and emphasis to the inquiry. '* 0, no I John has neither overworked himself in study nor abused himself in play, for he is too idle for the one and too lazy for the other ; " this, how- ever, in a tone which had more of approval than re- proof. Ill irr I I r ■'.!» ru I !■ M DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. "What, tlicn, gives you concern? Has Jolin fallen into bad habits or taken up with objectionable people?" and by this time Mrs. Disney had finished her coffee and was leaning over that she might see her husband's face. " No ; there is no trouble of that sort. John does not return heavily burdened with honors and medals, but his college life generally has been all right." " Then the only thing is money, and that need not astonish you, for John never was a brilliant econo- mist. Still" — giving a look around, taking in the luxurious library, with its big easy chairs, its rare old engravings, its book shelves filled with the choicest and richest literature, its varied and costly bric-a- brac — " we are really not so poor after all, and if John has been a little bit extravagant we must only put up with it." " It isn't exactly money, and yet it relates to money, for, if I understand the case, John has got hold of some socialistic notions and is beginning to pose as an advanced reformer." " What I John a socialist ! O, that is impossible ! " exclaimed Mrs. Disney, whose ideas of socialism were of the fierce, lurid type made familiar by Car- lyle's French Revolution^ and still more recently in the Paris Commune ; hence the possibility of her son being of that uncouth, unsavory multitude, with matted hair, ragged beard, generally unkempt and disreputable, was anything but pleasant to one so re- fined and sensitive. "That is Edward Vaughen's work," broke in Madge Disney, John's only sister and his junior by A FAMILY COUNCIL. H some three years, a yonrif^ lady with whom we are likely to have a more intimate acquaintance. " Last season at Newport Edward Vaughen, John's particu- lar crony, spent part of the vacation with us, and ho had all sorts of notions and fancies. I saw quite a little of him, and, indeed, I rather enjoyed his pet phrases about * the seriousness of life,' * the evasion of responsibility,* and all that kind of thing — a rather good-looking fellow, but perfectly harmless." " What do you mean by * harmless ? ' " said Dr. Disney, rising from his chair and going over to the mantelpiece, upon which he rested his hand, mean- while smiling pleasantly at his daughter. " Just this : the socialism that John will acquire from Mr. Vaughen is not at all dangerous. The fact is " — and here Madge allowed the bright laugh which had been accumulating for some minutes to ripple out in her speech until every word tinkled and chimed with girlish merriment — " Mr. Yaughen is merely a faddist ; he has taken this up as a means of gaining some little distinction which was not other- wise possible to him ; he likes to warm himself at the fire of his own eloquence. He has two or three pet theories which ho rubs together as Robinson Crusoe did his bits of wood, and the tiny flame seen through the eyes of his self-conceit appears a positive confla- gration." " Still he has inoculated John with some of the virus," said the doctor, lapsing for the moment into professional phrase. " Yes ; but the virus, as you call it, won't * take ' in any alarming way. * Take ' is the proper term, is ..'*.■ III , ( VI h i' w 1 ' ' '' 1 > 1 1 i 1 k [ ■ 1- ,; h 1 1 : ' ( \ 1 ' M 16 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. it not ? I have lieard Mr. Vauglien talk in the most deliciously bowildcring way of the * unearned incre- ment' and ^grinding monopolies,' but the poor fel- low hadn't the faintest idea of either the one or the other. Tiiero was no particular harm in my appear- ing to be interested, and so I asked him to tell me just what he meant, when he blushed and stam- mered and floundered around in the most delightful way. Mr. Vaughen is a social theosophist, a soap- bubble reformer, a cloud-dweller and substitute philanthropist, who will probably get some sense later on.'* " You seem to have made the most of your oppor- tunities," laughed Dr. Disney. *'IIe was genuinely interesting, I admit. He was both pathetic and bathetic. He brought in * the toil- ing millions' and 'life's sad undertone' most dra- matically ; but better than all, the young man took himself seriously, which added by so much to the occasion." " It would distress me exceedingly to have John take any part in such follies and theories," said Mrs. Disney, " for few young men have better prospects and opportunities." " There is no cause for anxiety," answered Madge. " "We all know John ; with him the horny-handed son of toil may be both a man and a brother, but John, as he says himself, * likes his bread well but- tered,' and unless all signs fail he will have his bread well buttered from now on." SiidlLR AND BROIHcR. W CHAPTER III. Sister and Brother. WHEN Madgo Disney in lier eager, character- istic way 8uid, " We all know John," eho used a common, everyday phrase, yet a more misleading or deceptive form of speech it wonld he difficult to imagine. There is an inscrutahle mystery surrounding every life, and into that mystery no one ever penetrates. Tliat mountain in yon distant wilderness, wrapped in smoke, hurning in flame, tremhling in thunder, and out of whose solemnity and grandeur a great voice sounds as of a mighty trumpet, is more than the snhlime vision of a Ilehrew seer ; it is a type of the mystery and awfulness of human life, a life that is so distinct and solitary as to invest it with a sacred- ness which must not be profaned. We know each other's names ; we have a general idea of each other's form and appearance ; occasion- ally we pick up a pebble on the beach of each other's character and disposition, but beyond this no one ever goes. Under the soft moss of gentle manner there are masses of granite of which we do not dream ; under the sloping hills with their vineyards purpling in the sun a volcano is hidden. The body which we have thought was a temple enshrining beauty and purity is often only a lair for a ravenous beast ; and the bosom which we imagined a holy altar 2 18 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. '.'J often flames with the most intense and degrading passion. The brilliant pupil of Gamaliel never nttered a more profound truth than when he said, " For what man knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man which is in him ? " Now here was John — easy, careless, with a vein of cynicism which gave color and vividness to his con- versation ; one whom no one suspected of strong con- viction or deep feeling ; not without principle, but seemingly without earnestness; outwardly content with himself and his surroundings ; and though by no means unfeeling or indifferent, yet so far his exer- tions for the well-being of mankind had been limited to the promotion of his own comfort. This John Madge knew ; but the real John, the John like some cathedral inclosed within planken walls and hidden behind staging and scaffoLl hig, was a being of whom she knew nothing whatever. For some time, however. Dr. Disney had sus- pected that John was not all on the surface, and that back of his languid, graceful indolence there was a strong, masterful spirit which in time would assert itself. It was the custom of the Disneys to leave town early in June, but this year as an affectionate com- pliment to John they remained at home until he had returned from college. Indeed, it was in the plans of the family to attend commencement, but the sudden and serious illness of Mrs. Disney's father summoned her to his bedside, and though Dr. Disney was anxious that Madge should share in the college SISTER AND BROTHER. 19 festivities, still under the circumstances she thought it best to remain at home. For a girl just turned twenty years of age, and who was supposed to be impulsive, Madge possessed her full share of worldly wisdom. Quick, bright, keen ; with speech as nimble and sure-footed as a chamois ; with a calm assurance which was as pro- nounced as it was ladylike ; with a serene confidence in herself which, though just a little imperious, was always attractive ; having, besides, a good, sound heart and a wholesome conscience, she was quite a fa- vorite in her immediate circle. Beyond that circle, however, Madge was not so definitely popular ; as, for instance, among the Fitz Noodles, the Van Boodles, the McSwoodles, and certain other members of New York's proud nobility whose ancestors came over on tlie Mayflower^ though, strange to say, their names are not found in the roll of that brave ship's pas- sengers. But what right has anyone to crawl under the ruins of the centuries looking for " logs " and " lists," and patting pages of faded handwriting be- neath a microscope ? Such a proceeding is positively cruel, for it permits no generous use of the imagina- tion. Why not allow Mrs. Fitz Noodle the rewards and benefits of her illustrious kinship? Anyone looking at her row of chins, three in number, descend- ing in elegant curves upon her antique but ample bosom ; her graceful nose, with broad foundations and celestial terminations ; her low, narrow forehead, sicklied over with the pale cast of a weak digestion, can see at once her high lineage, and if her great tr 20 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. it I VJ ! ' I i :i i: progenitor happened to be a foretopman on tbo May- flower are not lier claims to a lofty desceni, abun- dantly verified ? These things should not be laughed at, nor even spoken of lightly. It is true that some most unworthy and irreverent people sit on the benches in Central Park during the early summer afternoons, and when such distin- guished persons as the Yan Boodles and the Mc- Svvoodles in their stately and imposing carriages roll by nudge each other and say, " Soap," " Patent Medi- cine," " Spades and Shovels," " Beer," and other coarse and unfeeling expressions ; but who can tell liow much spite and envy have to do with this open contempt of pedigree ? The man on the bench may be just as much of a snob as the man in the carriage. Tliat supercilious smile from the benches is often but a flimsy disguise with which disappointment would fain hide itself. But while Madge affected a certain democracy of air and bearing there was something in the poise of her shapely head, in the set of her well-formed shoulders, in the look of her clear, gray eyes, which could not be mistaken, and which assured for her rec- ognition as of the Gotham aristocracy. She could, therefore, afford to make liglit of some things which others held in much esteem. Still she was full of tact, and seldom ran counter to the customs and de- crees of the august Gothamites. Slie declined, there- fore, to accept her father's proposition to attend the commencement festivities, though in all honesty this declination involved severe disappointment. " John," she said one morning, several days after SISTER AND BROTHER. 21 de- fter her brother had returned from college and the doctor had started on his round — for, though the season was well on, a number of his patients were yet in town — '' what are you going to do with your- self now that you are at home ? " "Do you mean your question for to-day or to- morrow or next day ? " " I think I can answer for to-day or to-morrow, but it is the next day and the day after to which I refer , '' going over to the piano, ostensibly to gather up and arrange some music which had been taken from the rack, but in reality to have John's face in a better light, for Madge meant this to be a serious conversation. John Disney had an open, frank countenance, and Madge was familiar with its every movement and expression ; hence her anxiety to note the effect of her words. " Frankly, Madge, I don't know," said John, play- ing idly with a birthday charm which hung on his watch chain, but it was evident that the subject was one of special interest. " But I thought you did know, for was it not un- derstood that you would continue in your studies and in due time take up some of papa's work, and eventually share his practice ? " "Yes, that was the plan, but my thoughts now take a different course." " Still, a professional life is one of recognized standing, in many respects to be preferred to any other;" and by this time Madge had gathered up the stray music, seated herself at the piano, and 1^ 1 ■ i i r I !f r t 1 iiti i'- ii ; ill 22 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. was touching the keys lightly yet perceptibly, thus relieving the conversation from overseriousness. "Yery true, my wise and venerable sister, but the matter with me is not altogether one of stand- mg. » "What is it then?" " I wish you could answer it for me, for I most assuredly cannot answer it for myself." "But what brought this change about? You know what papa expects and how disappointed he will be." " Of course I do, and I am sorry for him, but the fact remains that I have no inclination whatever for his profession, and, moreover, I am utterly un- fitted for it." " Why, how can that be ? It seems to me that you were * born in the purple,' and have only to assume your inheritance in due season ; " and now Madge had wheeled around from the piano and was looking ear- nestly at her brother. " You asked me a moment since, Madge, what I was going to do with myself, and the whole diffi- culty is just there. It is the ' myself ' which em- barrasses me. I can do something with my educa- tion, particularly if I complete the course which was originally intended. I can do something with my talents, for though I do not claim any remarkable gifts, still I have sense enough not to go into the napkin business, and dig a hole in the earth. I can do something with my opportunities, for there are openings possible to me which I fully appreciate ; still the question of * myself remains unanswered, and f'i SISTER AND BROTHER. m it I iffi- em- luca- was my lable tlie can are still and that is the question which troubles me. In other words, where can I put my life to the best use, so that it may tell upon the best life of others ? is the prob- lem that I am trying to solve, and I confess that so far I am baffled." Madge was startled. She had never seen John in any such mood as this. Usually he was light, easy, bantering, not exactly frivolous, still a good deal of a trifler, and disposed generally to put aside anything that was serious. But he was serious now ; she could see it in his face, hear it in his voice, and feel it in his soul. Still, there was a measure of im- patience in both her face and tone as she replied . " I am afraid Mr. Yaughen has had something to do with this. Last summer I wondered if his influence was jnst the right sort for yon, and a few weeks since, when papa was speaking of some notions of yours, I put the whole blame upon Mr. Yaughen." " Yaughen ! " and here John allowed the grave, serious look to pass away into a smile ; " the dear fel- low has his hobbies and theories, but there is nothing serious in either them or himself. Lots of college men take up with that sort of thing. Stubbs — his father is a banker, one of the most careful in the city — would divide up the whole business, giv- ing share and share alike, after the manner of a certain time with which the name of Ananias is un- pleasantly associated. But we take Stubbs with sun- dry grains of salt. Knobbs is anxious to be at the head of a ' community,' but Knobbs is at heart one of the most exclusive fellows you could imagine. He won't travel in the day coach of a common train, nor «F df DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ■11 » take a meal in a public restaurant, or do anything that will bring him near the average man ; neverthe- less he airs himself on the community scheme after the manner of an apostle. Jenks is full of cooperation ; tap him anywhere, and like maple trees in the season trickling with sap, so he trickles with cooperation. The fact that his father is at the head of a big trust, and that there have been any number of scandals connected with that trust, doesn't affect Jenks. Jenks is immense ; I don't mean in size, but in his own opinion, and for an hour now and then he is rare sport." By this time, John was the gay light-hearted youth of the morning, droll in his own inimitable way, while Madge was laughing heartily. " Madge," said John, a few minutes later, " what say you to a run to Coney Island ? "We can get a sniff of the sea, hear some music, see crowds of people, and generally enjoy ourselves." " Coney Island ! What would mamma say, or papa ? " " I have spoken to the pater, and it is all right. You needn't be afraid of meeting anyone. The people of our set are all away. "We can take the * Elevated ' to the Battery ; there get a boat which goes to the Iron Pier, and see something of a world which will be as new to you as the one discovered by Co- lumbus." " But, John, has papa really given his consent to my going ? " From the anxious way in which Madge repeated this question it was very evident that she greatly SISTER AND BROTHER. at desired the Bohemian outing winch John proposed. Yet she was not quite sure that Dr. Disney would fully approve of it. ^ " If you hurry, we can get the noon boat," was John 8 reply, consulting the time-table in the news- pflpGr. the^toaf '"'"''^*^' ""'' *^^^ "^^ ^ S^** *'«« fo"- or p^ DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. r\ h t CHAPTER ly. Mark Brompton's Nephew. ^OHN DISNEY liad no intention of being unjust \ to Edward Vaughen when lie spoke of his qJ "notions" in a light and satiric way, and even went so far as to suggest tliat Vaughen himself was not to be taken seriously. Nevertheless he was unjust, though unintentionally so. A hurt can be both severe and painful, whether through inadvert- ence or design. That ancient fable of a stone-throw- ing boy and an expostulating frog has applications of various kinds, and is likely to have for a long time to come. The way in which we misjudge each other is one f life's saddest mysteries. What blunderers we arc ! How coarse and dull and unfeeling ! With heavy, hob-nailed boots we trample upon the delicate threads and lines of each other's hopes and aspira- tions, and many a noble, beautiful life has been broken and crushed under our pitiless feet. The trouble with Edward Yaughen was not lack of seriousness. Like another young man whose name and history are not unknown, he was a dreamer ; he had a vision of the circling stars and the bending sheaves ; his imagination clothed itself with a coat of many colors, and he could easily see a future in which he would not only ride in a chariot, but also be hailed as the friend and champion of suffering mankind. Hence he was vague, deliciously, refresh . ( s MARK BROMPTON'S NEPHEW. 27 ijUBt : his and iiself J was in be Ivert- lirow- ^nsof me to her is rs "we •Witli plicate ispira- been ack of name ; he jndin or la coat lure in it also Eering jfresh ingly vagnc. Tlicorics as beautiful as dewdrops sparkled in the uioriiing sun of his eager, hopeful life. Tlie eastern sky of his ambitions wns flushing the dull, leaden gray and tinting the somber clouds with a glory all its own. Ah ! we who are older and wiser may have but scant sympathy with the dreams of youth. Yet there are times when some of us would gladly ex- change much of our worldly wisdom fur the daring, the eagerness, the enthusiasm of those triumphant days when all things were ours and when life, like clay in the hands of the potter, could be molded to our wish. Yaughcn's theories and notions were not, however, as Madge somewhat flippantly suggested, a mere fad taken up for the time being ; they Vvcre his by in- heritance ; he was born into them ; indeed, so conscious was he of this possession that long before full man- hood was attained he had entered upon this estate. The little town of Eastwich said that Thomas Yaughen, Edward's father, was a very singular man, and Eastwich knew what it was talking about, for Thomas Yaughen had not only been born and brought up there, but had lived there all his life, and was now buried in the little well-kept cemetery with which everyone in Eastwich was so familiar. " lie might have been one of the richest men in the county," remarked Mr. Hagsby, the owner of the Eastwich paper mill and a man of much local prominence, to Lawyer Salvage, as they rode together on the day of Thomas Yaughen's funerah " He was one of the kindest and most generous ^' 23 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. 1. H M m men I over knew," said Deacon Calvin to his neigh- bor, Squire Calendar, a vestryman of St. John's, as they followed in the next carriage. " lie was as brave as a lion and as tender as a woman," one Grand Army man said to another, ns the little company went to the funeral of their com- rade. It was a lovely afternoon, and all Eastwich had gathered in the cemetery, and under that sky which seemed as a dome of infinite depth arching into the uttermost heavens, never were words more impressive and thrilling — "And I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord." Mrs. Yaughen was a woman of much strength and quality of mind, and also of corresponding strength and quality of heart ; hence outwardly she bore her sorrow and bereavement wuth such quietness as to cause some surprise, for her married life had been one of rare sweetness and peace. Mrs. Paletot, the chief milliner and dressmaker of Eastwich, was almost grieved at the simple character of Mrs. Yaughen's mourning ; still it would be unfair to Mrs. Paletot to insinuate that this had anything to do with her remark to Mrs. Cutler, whose husband kept the grocery and hardware store : " Mrs. Yaughen may be in deep trouble, but she doesn't show much of it on either her gown or bon- net." Mrs. Marble, the wife of the tombstone and epitaph man, whispered around that it was only the very plainest tablet, with just the name cut upon it, that MARK BROMPTON'S NEPHEW. 29 's, as as a 3r, as coin- i had «rhich the essivo eaven which :h and rength re her as to en one iker of iracter 1 unfair thing Lsband lut she >r bon- [pitaph very it, that was ordered, "hardly enough to bo even respectful to such a man as Thomas Vaughen." These tender and sympathetic remarks, with others of equal sweetness and beauty, were repeated, passed on, and duly commented upon, but Mrs. Vaughcn's sad, sweet face gave no indication of the feelings 'of her neighbors and friends. The woman who can command herself in such times as these, who does not bring out her heart so as to exhibit its flutterings, its throbbings, its quiverings ; who does not make piteous appeals for sympathy, and with tear-shot voice and tear-stained eye call upon the emotions of her friends — she, poor soul, will be adjudged as lacking in tenderness, and will be harshly pronounced upon, chiefly, however, by those of her own sex. At the time suggested by the opening of our story Mrs. Vaughen received a letter, the contents of which may help us somewhat : " New York, June 20. " My Dear Mary : I was glad to learn through a note from Edward of the completion of his college course and Ins desire to enter upon a business life. " Let me suggest his coming to mo at as early a date as may be convenient. I wish I could persuade you to come at the same time. " Augusta and the girls are abroad. Pei'cy is with some friends on a yachting trip. Some things re- quire my attention in the city, and as I am alone your coming with Edward would really be a great favor, Your affectionate brother, " Mark Brompton," il :!| •1 t !''■ It J lit' ' w m !! 30 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. Mark was Mrs. Yauglicn's only brother, and hor senior by scvcnil years. When only a lad he had gone to New York, and by dint of the bardcst kind of hard work gradually made his way, so that now he was at the head of one of the largest houses in the city. lie was not one of the fortunate boys who find an Aladdin's lamp or a vizier's ring. lie had no unknown benefactor who secured for him posi- tions of honor and trust. lie was no youthful hero, who in peril uf his life sprang at tlic reins of the frightened horses who were tearing madly down the street and with the strength of a Hercules brought them to a standstill, tlii.s saving the life of the mil- lionaire and his lovely daughter, completing the romance by marrying thri aforesaid daughter in due time. There was nothing romantic about Mark Brompton. He just kept plodding along in the ordi- nary, common way — messenger boy, office boy, junior clerk, and so on step by step, always cool, always 8hrewd,carefully considering what was best, eminently practical, rigid in his Cv ...lomies, rendering good service but expecting full reward, and ever watchful of his own interests. With him business was busi- ness, business all the time, and business with a profit. He was honest, but he was hard ; he kept his word, but he insisted upon the other man keeping his; he paid promptly, but never more than was written in the bond, nor would he receive less. In his office he knew neither friendship nor sentiment, and to all seeming had no more heart than an automatic calcu- lator. At the proper time he married, and the proper time with him was not when his heart w£^8 MARK BROMPTON'S NEPHEW. 31 ^S . her had kind now ics in 3 who c had 1 posi- hcro, of the vn the rought le uiil- the in duo Mark le ovdl- junior always linently r good atchfnl as busi- profit. 8 word, his; he itten in fiice he to all c calcu- ,nd the art was young, but when he had attained such standing aw gave him access to liomcs of solidity and wealth ; hence when he asked Augusta Glenville to become his wife ho wiis fully aware that she would not be a portionless bride. And so ho went on from prosper- ing to prosper. When Thomas Vaughen died Mark Brompton went to Eastwich not only to attend the funeral and be present with his sister in her sorrow, but also to arrange her affairs and give her such assistance as was necessary. There was not much, however, to arrange, for Thomas Vaughen had spent his life in laying up treasure " where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt ; " still with characteristic unselfishness he had provided against his wife being dependent, so that with the sale of the business her income was enough for her simple needs. Nothing would induce licr to leave Eastwich ; that pathetic hillock in the little churchyard made the whole place sacred to her and claimed her presence and care. But while Mark Brompton could not quite under- stand the fine feeling which prompted the refusal of his sister to leave Eastwich, yet in a measure he was relieved, for her coming to New York would involve certain family embarrassments which he was anxious to avoid. He arranged, however, to send Edward to college, and promised to open his way in the city afterward. With his UR^^al faithfulness he carried out his part of the compact, and while Edward could not speak with enthusiasm of his uncle's generosity, still Mr. Brompton was fairly entitled to respect and consideration for what he had done. 'Jtrr 32 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. 1 f CHAPTER Y. A Bohemian Outing. THOSE who are not familiar with New York imagine that in the summer the heat is simply intolerable, and that no one remains in the city who can possibly get away. It is true that in certain sections uptown it world seem as if this idea was the correct one, for there are whole blocks of houses and almost blocks of streets where every shutter is closed, every blind is drawn, every door is boarded up, and where it is very evident that a general exodus has taken place. The favored resi- dents of these select and fashionable regions could not dream of exposing themselves to the horrors of a New York summer ; hence trunks are packed, boxes are strapj)ed, trains are laden, steamers are filled, and away go the " four hundred," leaving the city desolate and forsaken. Possibly the population of the city is not perceptibly affected, but people should be weighed as well as counted, and what are numbers as compared with quality? East Side Gothamites are not of much account except by cen- sus takers ; the real dwellers in Gotham are in the uptown regions. According to the standard of the chosen ones, in July New York is simply empty. Newspapers are published, but what do they chron- icle other than reports from the distant resorts — Mrs, McFlimsie's dinner party in honor of the A BOHEMIAN OUTING. 33 t is lainB true as if ^rhole dieve every t tbat i resi- I covild ors of acked, rs are ig the ilation people lat are Side y cen- in the of tlie ty. cliron- sorts — of the Marquis T( ie de Bois ; the engagement of Miss Naniby Pam to Count Spaghetti; the fancy ball under the direction of the Von der Plonks, Knd such other mighty and thrilling events? The great stores also keep open, but they sell only common things to the common people, of whom there seem as many as ever, which only proves how much plebeiiinism there is even in Gotham. It is true also that most of the churches observe regular service, but in the select neighborhoods the ministerial " understudy " nieets the full necessities of the case, for why should the eloquent sermons of the regular incumbent be spent upon the few unfor- tunate ones who cannot escape from the metropolis ? It is very probable that the fact of " everyone be- ing out of town " weighed in Madge Disney's mind when she consented to accompany her brother to Coney Island, for she was morally certain that none of her friends was within even a hundred miles of the city. Still she had certain qualms, though in strict truth they were not of conscience, but rather a fear of the proprieties. It is singular, but true "withal, that there are those with whom propriety is a stronger deterrent than conscience, if the Ten Commandments could only be adopted and accepted as part of the social code, the moral law might sc jure more generous recogni- tion. For the social code not only demands but in- sists upon obedience, and one must either be very ricli or very handsome who will defy its mandates. With a sway that is absolute it prescribes the length of a horse's tail, the cut of a w^oman's gown, the Tr—^ 34 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. , ^ if /M shape of a man's hat, and woe betide those who dis- obey! No wonder, therefore, that Madge felt anxious and uncomfortable, and if a telegram hud come from her mother, or her father unexpectedly returned, she would have gladly put aside her promise to John and inwardly rejoiced at her deliverance. But no relief came ; John was impatient to be off, and so Madge went, but her first sensations were any- thing but pleasant. After reaching the boat and being comfortably seated Madge looked cautiously around and discov- ered, very much to her satisfaction, that her fellow- travelers were not such barbarians as she had feared. Many of them were just as well dressed and as lady- like as she was, and some of the young men would compare favorably with even her own handsome brother. Among the younger groups there was pos- sibly a little more hilarity than some would approve of, and more than once a laugh that might be called boisterous, but when John suggested that to most of these people such an outing as this meant an escape from the stifling store, the cooped-up office, the noise, the din, the heat, and the general restraint under which so much of their lives was spent, she soon found herself not only framing excuses for their rather zealous pleasure-making, but even once or twice she could not forbear a smile at some bright repartee or quaint saying spoken loud enough for her to overhear. Others impressed her as belonging more particu- larly to the artisf.n class, for their clothes sat rather 11 I ' dis- and her she and 3 off, any- •tably iscov- ellow- ' eared. J lady- would dsome ,8 pos- prove called ost of escape the straint t, she fees for n once bright igh for )articu- rather A BOHEMIAN OUTING. 36 I consciously and indicated an nnfainiliarity with the daily life of the wearer. A certain swarthy neck undoubtedly resented a stiff collar ; the well-shaped, sturdy head felt the strain of a close-litting hat ; the brawny, rugged shoulders chafed under the restraints of a fairly made coat ; but the man was genuine; that Madge could see in the care which he took of his little children, and the affection with which ho re- garded their mother, a pale, sad-faced woman, who looked wistfully upon the sea, thinking, doubtless, of her early home far across the ocean. One group after the other came within the reach of Madge's clear gray but kindly eyes, and concern- ing each group she had many wonderings and imag- mmgs. But who can describe a boatload of passengers on the way to Coney Island ? For it surely includes all sorts and conditions of men, women, and children — children with tiny pails and shovels for service in the sand ; children with whips and balloons and mouths smeared with colored candy ; children who cry and scream until one sighs for the fog horn ; children who are sweet and pretty, sleeping most of the way through ; then the women with babies and the women without babies; the women with hus- bands and the women without husbands ; the women who have nice frocks and the women who have nice faces ; then the men who are out for a frolic and the men who are out with their families ; the men to whom the occasion is one which they enjoy with their wives and children ; the men who are reckless and selfish, wasting both the day and themselves. • 36 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. } $< Jl i ■ 1 i Jl i ! ■ ' i 1 People of varied language and of varied life — men from the mill, the shop, the foundry, the yard ; men who have just laid down the hammer, the trowel, the shears, the pen ; women from the store, the desk, the sewing machine, the typewriter ; women who have escaped from the burden, the toil, the care, the drudgery — what a comfort it is that once in a while they can get out and see God's sky, look upon God's sea, and feel something of the light and joy of life I A very world is a Coney Island steamer ; more of a world even than an ocean steamship, for it usually carries but two classes — the saloon and the steerage — whereas a Coney Island boat is a world in miniature. Down the harbor, with the Statue of Liberty stand- ing out in all its mighty proportions ; through the Narrows, with the hills of Staten Island on the ono hand and the less pretentious Bay Ridge on the other, the steamer made its way, and ere long the varied and nondescript architecture of the famous resort came in view. The pier was reached in due time, and the impatient passengers were soon a part of the great host who swarmed everywhere. The first feeling that possessed Madge was that of ntter bewilderment. Had she come from a distant planet she could hardly have been in a world with which she was less familiar. There were swings to right of her, swings to left ot her ; flying horses with calliope attachment, making noise enough to suit a Bedlamite ; toboggans where the heavy-laden cars made a rush and roar like a train passing over a trestle- work bridge, but neither rush nor roar could drown the screams and laughter of the tobogganers, bump- len A BOHEMIAN OUTING. 37 len i the i the Lave the » hile rod's life I of a 4 ually tge— iture. itand- i h the le OIU^ 1 1 n the ■* 2 the ( imons n due apart The ■ litter . ' planet which J . right m with Isuit a In cars Btrestle- Bdrown Bbump- ing and thumping on their way ; boats which hung on chains and iron rods, with motion enough to ter- rify the most hardened traveler, within which very uncomfortable-looking people tried to imagine that tliey really enjoyed it; shows in tents and shows in bootlis, where from tlie platform men with throats of boiler iron and lungs of extra leather were inviting the passing throngs to witness the marvelous exhibi- tions which were " just about to begin ; " shooting galleries, where every few minutes might be heard the ting of a bell, indicating that some fortunate youth had succeeded in hitting one of those elusive marks at which so many aim in vain. All these, and countless other things as well, mingled with the beat- ing of drums, the blowing of horns, the cries of vend- ers of ever^^thing imaginable, startled Madge so that finally she looked from one thing to the other with a helplcpsness that was simply pitiful. " Let us go down to the beach," said John, when he saw that Madge was a little weary ; " we can get chairs there, and you will have a chance to rest." " But, John, where did all these people come from ? " gasped Madge, with the look of wonder fill- ing her eyes and face, for the crowd had a peculiar influence upon h^. It was by no means a drunken, noisy, reckless crowd, but sober, orderly, respectable, and in bearing and appearance would compare most favorably, too, with the crowds of London or Paris or Berlin. Madge was very deeply impressed, for she was quick and sensitive, and the sight of these tens of thousands moved her most strangely. " My dear girl," replied John, " these are the • 38 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. I ' % • H,.fl bread makers of the city in which you live. All week they have been at work tending the ovens; their arms have been spattered witli flour, their hands covered with dough, and they are now enjoying the half holiday which makes life just bearable for many of them." " Bread makers I What do you mean ? " for Jolm's figurative form of speech was not quite clear always, even to his sister. " O ! I don't mean that all these people are pastry cooks or bakers ; they are the workers, the mechanics, the clerks, the real bread winners of New York. These are the common people of whom you read in books, the books written mostly by men who never saw the common people. These are the masses who are studied by our social economists as a geologist studies specimens — stratified and labeled in proper order." By this time they had come to the beach, which was crowded with men and women and children, en- joying to the full the delicious breeze which came in strongly from the open sea, while a goodly com- pany, much to the amusement of the onlookers, splashed and frolicked in the big breakers as they rolled in from the broad Atlantic. Madge now was quite at ease concerning the matter of recognition, for the more she studied the people the more con- fident she was that none of her friends were in such a place ; hence she gratefully accepted the chair which John secured, and with simple, girlish democ- racy was entering into the novelty and amusement of her surroundings, when all at once John said : All \ A BOHEMIAN OUTING. 30 " Wi>y, there is Dnnbar ! Excuse me for a mo- ment, disappearing as he spoke, returning, how- ever, almost :m.nediately, bringing with him a young man of perhaps twenty-five years of age, tall, fairly good-lookmg, and thongh not in the orthodox garb of aeler^man yet John introduced him to Madge as " the Kev. Hugh Dunbai-," 40 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. J J f 'i , |!(> M: •ill 1 CHAPTER YI. A Reverend Radical. (( W ELL ! I certainly did not expect to Bee yon down here," John sidd to Mr. Dunbar, after a few moments spent in the ordi- nary greetings. "Wliy not?" responded Mr. Dunbar, regarding John with a pleasant smile. "I thouglit that clergymen were not in sympathy with tlie pomps and vanities of such places as these," returned John. " But ' pomps and vanities,' as you call them, are not necessarily associated with ' such places as these,*^ " Mr. Dunbar replied. " People who have spent all their week in the hot city arc to be commended for coming here and getting a breath of the sea. O, how delicious it is ! " as just then a cool wave swept through the air, tempering the hot sun and causing almost everyone to turn gratefully to the open sea, from whence the life and vigor came so richly. " I had an impression," John went on, accompany- ing the words w^ith a look and smile which Mr. Dunbar seemed to perfectly understand, " that you ' brethren of the cloth ' were usuallv invisible on Saturdays, so as to be incomprehensible on Sundays." "I see you are the same Disney. Your sister here may not be aware that from the magnificent altitudes of my senior year I beheld in the valley of the fresh- li A REVEREND RADICAL. 41 ?9 arc rept Ising sea, IMr. [yon on ys." lere lides esli- man this youth of much verdancy and small promise, whose helplessness and innocence tonclied me very deeply," was Dunbar's rcf^ponse, meanwhile turning liis large, expressive eyes, full of genuine mirth, upon Madge, his earnest, almost sad-looking face lighted up with a rich smile. "All of which translated into the vernacular means that Mr. Dunbar was in his last year when I entered college and that we became good friends," replied John. The spot chosen by John for a few minutes* halt- ing place was quite a little distance from the crowd, and as the tide was now receding, carrying with it the heavy fringe of spectators, our friends were com- paratively alone. At John's suggestion Mr. Dunbar and himself sat down upon the sand, of which at Coney Island there is enough and to spare. The young men soon drifted into easy and familiar con- versation, though Madge was not altogether pleased at Mr. Dunbar's quiet acceptance of himself as a member of the Disney party. Her coolness, how- ever, in nowise affected Mr. Dunbar, except that now and then he looked at her with a quick, keen, curious glance ; for though his eyes, as a rule, were kindly, at times they gleamed sharply and searched deeply. " Then you have a parish ? " John said in response to a remark of Mr. Dunbar. " Yes, if you can call it so," answered Dunbar. " In the city ? " questioned Madge, who felt as if she ought, in courtesy to her brother, at any rate, to show some interest in his friend. I h • .a f^- 42 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. "Yes, in the city, but that is not very definite even to myself, for I have quite recently taken service in an East Side mission." An East Side clergyman suggested very h'ttle to Madge beyond a superior kind of tract distributer or superintendent of some charitable institution, and as she thought of Mr. Dunbar associated with sucli work she wondered at John's very evident regard for him. It may liave been the breeze, which was now blowing sti'onger and cooler every moment, but a distinct chill came upon her face, and there was something in the curl of her lips which, to say the least, was suggestive. Again Mr. Dunbar flashed upon her one of his keen, searching looks, a look of which she at the same moment she was conscious. though seemed to be absorbed in watching a vessel far out ai sea. '' Then you have entered upon your work ? " put in John, who knew nothing of the soul collisions w^hich v;ere taking place so near him, and w^hose only in- terest for the time centered in Dunbar. "I am experimenting before reaching definite conclusions." " Yoa don't mean by * experimenting ' hospital and dispensary work of the same type necessary to young doctors, preparatory to a church with a big steeple and a Vanity Fair congregation ? " laughed John. " Such pi'actice is doubtless necessary, but it is hard on those who have to endure it." " There is some truth, unfortunately, in your idea, but other things than those you suggest have influ- enced me ; " this very quietly, but earnestly. lite ,'ico J to r or 1 as ;ork iiiin. ving tinct hing , was lier ii slie she r out )ut in liicli y i"- Ifinite i\ and ronng [eeple [olin. hard idea, liniiu- A REVEREND RADICAL. 4J n " Let us get back to first principles," said John, " and ask, if I may, what are you doing down liero i for I assured my sister before leaving home that wo would not meet a solitary friend or even remote acquaintance tlie whole afternoon, and yet here in the midst of the throng we find you." " Before answering your question may I venture to hope that this accidental meeting will not interfere with Miss Disney's enjoyment," Mr. Dunbar cour- teously but gravely replied, for ho was fully aware of certain unpleasant movements in Madge's mind. "You will pardon rae, Mr. Dunbar, if I take ex- ception to your use of the word * enjoyment ' so far as it relates to me. Seeing you are a clergyman, perhaps it is only proper for mc to confess that it was simply a spirit of adventure which brought me here. My brother was anxious to have me coine, nor am I sorry that I did so ; still my enjoyments nre not altogether of this order." Here Madge pro- duced what John called her " shot-tower effect," so that when her words reached Mr. Dunbar they were hard and glittering like tiny bullets. Once more tlie sea^'ching eyes of Mr. Dunbar looked out from under tlieir heavy bro /s, and once more Madge watched with intense interest a trail of smoke as of some in- coming ocean steamer. "Your question, Disney, is easily answered. I came down here to see my brothers and sisters and enjoy part of the day with them." " Then you still remain an apostle of the Brother- hood ? " John said. " I thought those were mostly 44 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ii - college notions, and tliat wlien men got tliroiigh they left them as a legacy to the ineoniing class." " Not always." " Of course there are exceptions." *' Yes, and many exceptions." " But do not some men take these things up as fads and fancies ? " * " Undoubtedly, but they soon become much more unless th J men who take them up are fads and fancies themselves." "You evidently have taken them up in dead earnest." "No, they have taken me up in dead earnest." " I do not quite understand." " The fault is mine, but " — and with this he turned to Miss Disney, whose eyes were still upon the sea — but who liad heard every word of the conversation, " it is not fair of me to monopolize the afternoon with matters which are largely personal." "But these things are not personal," persisted John ; " they have a deep interest for me, and the problems in which I find myself are both serious and difficult." " That I am glad to hear. It is only the man who does not think, and who is selfishly content with things as they are, who is not troubled. How any man can face the conditions of this age and this country without feeling the burden and the mystery can hardly be reconciled with a sound mind, certainly not with a clear conscience." This time Mr. Dunbar did not look at Madge, though she certainly was a very attractive picture, « nA. I ;■. : A REVEREND RADICAL 45 tlicy 3 fads more incics dead nrned sea — ation, with rsisted Id the IS and who ,vith any this Istery Jainly idge, Iture, for tlio clear sky seemed to refloet itself in her eyes, tlio breeze Imd hroiight a tiiiyo of color into her fresh yoiin^ face, and if Mr. Dunbar had looked at her no ono would liavo blamed liini. iJut be looked along tho beach down to the Iron Tier, then turned the other way only to tec multitudes of those whom lie called his " brothers and sisters." ''lie is positively worse than Edward Vaugben," Madge said to lierself, " and he, goodne^^s knows, is bad enough." "No wonder John lias all sorts of notions," she went on with her unspoken tbout^dits; "what with Edward Yaughen and this IMr. Dunbar, they have tilled my brother's head with the most absurd fan- » cies. "John," she said, after a few minutes, when there was a lull in tho conversation, " is it not time that wo were going? " It was a simple and natural question, but there was that in tho tone which made it abrupt, if, indeed, not ungracioift. This time just the faintest gleam of amusement stole upon Mr. Dunbar's face, for he under- stood the question as a polite dismissal. Madge saw the shadow of the smile, and it provoked her, for she knew then that her intent was discovered. She tried to cover u]) her failure with an invitation for Mr. Dunbar to rectum with them, and when lie declined she was quite solicitous that he call upon Dr. Disney and give them opportunity of hearing further of his work. Nothing conld exceed the ease and graceful dignity of Mr. Dunbar's leave-taking, but somehow it seemed 46 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ' n < ■'♦. to Madge as though a spirit of mischief lurked in liis eyes and as if lie had come off the better in their silent contest. *' Your friend, whatever his notions may be, has the manners of a gentleman," she said to John, after Mr. Dunbar had gone. " That is not to be wondered at," was the reply, more curtly, too, than was John's wont with Madge. " You don't mean to insinuate that because he was favored with your graceful and dignified example for a year he must therefore be a geutleman all the rest of his life," she playfully responded ; for though she could not see any disturbance in her brother's mind she felt it, and it annoyed and, if anything, made her more provoked wdth Mr. Dunbar as the cause of it. *' Ko, but if you put it the other way, you will reach a more correct view of the case." "What do you mean? Mr. Dunbar is nothing but an East Side clergyman, probably one of those unfortunates for whom Dr. Bland pleads so earnestly on Mission Sunday." " You poor, misguided creature," John said, pity- ingly. " Dunbar is rich enough to endow Dr. Bland and a dozen others beside. He is also of one of the best families we have, while he himself is as true a man as lives." It must be conceded that though John was Madge's "own and only brother" he tcok evident satisfaction in making this reply, and even all the more when he saw its effect upon her. Poor Madge ! She now understood tha lurking \ %' 1 his their !, has after •eply, adge. le was »le for e rest r\i she mnid made cause )U will othing those ■nestly I, pity- I Bland lof the true a [adge's [action len he irking A REVEREND RADICAL. 47 mischief in Mr. l)unbar's eyes and the ghost of a smile with wliicL he had taken liis dismissal. " Why, I thought ho was a socialist," she hastily replied, anxious to find something by way of exten- uation. "Yes, but not the sort of socialist that you mean, nor the sort that a great many mean. I don't under- stand ;vhy he has taken up the work Jie is now in ; but one thing certain, ho is thoroughly in earnest." The afternoon was now well advanced, and Madge suggested that it was time to return home, when John said : " Father has a special engagement for t'lis evening, and when I spoke of our coming down here he pro- posed that we remain at Manhattan Beach for din- ner. This side trip of ours was not, however, on his program, and perhaps we had better ^ly noth- ing about it." They went over to Manhattan Beach by rail, mak- ing the run in a few minutes, and there found a crowd proportionately as great as the one which they had just left. Though not yet the fashionable hour for dining, the tables on the long, wide piazzas of the " Manhattan " were crowded, and the waiters were rushing here and there in response to the calls on every side. The benches on the plank walk facing the sea were all occupied, while hundreds of people were promenading up and down, enjoying the mag- nificent view and at the same time the refreshing breeze which came in from tlie ocean. The music from the '*' Pavilion " was too strong and clear to be confined within wooden walls, hence the strains of 48 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ,!i • ^ '■ H. ,i!l *,t Gilmore's famous band filled the great square with melody. Ladies in the daintiest of summer costumes gave color and vividness to the scene and rivaled in richness and variety the immense beds of flowers frontir/g the hotel in the ^iory of early July. On every hand there was evidence of wealth, and it may be questioned if in the days of imperial Rome a scene of more real splendor could be found. For here were jewels costly and gleaming, laces and silks finer and more exquisite than ever adorned Roman matron, rich attire and golden ornaments in lavish display, not barbaric as in the days of Nero, but deli- cate and elega^.t, of ricliest quality and finest work- manship. Madge was even more amazed than in the early afternoon, for she had accepted without question the statement that " there was positively no one in New York," while here were crowds of people of evident wealth, reveling, too, in the enjoyment of that wealth as she had never even dreamed of. She suggested something of this to John, who said: "Down yonder," pointing to that part of the island where they had met Mr. Dunbar, "are the bread makers, while here are tlie bread eaters." "But bread makers are usually bread eaters," laughed Madge, who was anxioue to avoid a return to the serious discussion of the early afternoon. " Not always," said John ; " they have the honor of mixing the flour, of making the batches, of shap- ing the loaves, and of tending the ovens, but the brend is not for them. Of course, if a loaf is over- A REVEREND RADICAL. 49 baked or the crust browned beyond the point which is attractive or palatable, the baker may have it for his own use ; but, Madge^ it is true the bread makers are yonder and the bread eaters are here." " If that is CO, let us belong to the bread eaters, ior I am Yery hungry. Only think how long it has bt 'm since luncli time, and one cannot well live on ocean breezes and band music." To this remark John gave an approving smile, and soon they were in the dining room of the " Oriental," where surely there is " bread " in all possible varie- ties and forms. k^' 50 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. J t! |i * J i: CHAPTER YII. Making Stones into Bread. FOR, the very same reason with which Mark Brompton urged his invitation Mrs. Yaughen steadily declined it, which shows that the man and the woman rarely, if ever, have the same point of view. We may discuss the question of sex equality as we please, but when everything is said it still remains the same sublime mvstery. One is tempted sometimes to wonder in what this equality consists. Those diamonds so gracefully, though not unconsciously, worn by the Marchioness of Tabasco at the state ball in honor of Prince Sapolio are car- bon ; that wagonload of coal of which Tim O'Healy is in charge is also carbon. Does it then follow that the Marchioness of Tabasco is on terms of equality with Tim O'Healy ? Kow here were Mark Brompton and Mrs. Yaughen, though of the same kith and kin, as far apart in their conclusions as their finite natures would allow. To the mind of Mr. Brompton there w^as no reason whatever wdiy his sister should not come to IS'ew York at this particular time ; to the mind of Mrs. Yaughen there w^as a most urgent reason why she should re- main at Eastwich. Mrs, Yaughen had an under- standing of more things than were dreamt of in the philosophy of her worldly-wise brother. She was perfectly certain that Mrs. Brompton, had she been % ' 1' .;:.■ il i It;; 1 MAKING STONES INTO BREAD. 51 h Mark raughen that the lie same m of sex is said it One is equality oiigh not Tabasco ) are car- O'Healy low that equality id Mrs. [far apart lid allow, io reason )W York ^^aughen ionld re- under- If in the )he was the been ■1 at home, would not have united in this invitation, and when she ret'irned would resent such a visit as an intrusion. Mrs. Vaughen sincerely pitied Mark. Though lie was older by several years, she remembered dis- tinctly his early ambitions and his determination to be rich and successful. She knew also that there was no romance in his marriage ; that no fine, tender feeling actuated him in the founding of his home ; and that from beginning to end the whole transac- tion was almost as definitely commercial as anything which took place in his office. She was further aware that he got just what he bargained for, noth- ing more or nothing less, Augusta Glenville understanding perfectly the nature of the arrange- ment. Miss Glenvillle was no lovelorn damsel or yearn- ing heroine, no boarding-scliool maiden with a heart crowded with dreams. In her way she was just as practical and matter-of-fact as Mr. Bromptoii was in his, and while there was the orthodox wed- ding, not even omitting the customary rice, neither one pretended to anything of sentiment. If the offi- ciating clergyman had said, " "Wilt thou. Half Million, take this Half Million, to have and to hold from this day forward ? " there would probably have been some indignation in the bridal party, yet in reality that was the inner meaning of the ceremony. But Mark Brompton long since had made the discovery — a sad, pitiable discovery by whomsoever made — that man shall not live by bread alone. Tlie loaf may be made of the finest flour, of the daintiest 52 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ( i ^H shape, baked most carefully, yet there is a hunger which it cannot meet. He, foolish man, had imap^ined that the heart was a sort of safe ; a receptacle for bonds and title deeds ; with a combination known only to himself, which he could open and close at will. Years ago he had found, but much to his surprise, that it was nof a cunning mechanism of steel springs and wrought iron, for it throbbed and ached with a pain all its own. But he kept on making money, and appar- ently was dead to all feeling ; still there were times when there was a sense of utter loneliness, when the world was barren, and his life one of bitter disap- pointment. " ' A little below par,' to use the terms of the ' Street,' " Dr. Disney would say, in that bland, gracious way of his; for sometimes Mr. Brompton wondered if physical conditions were not the cause of his depression, and would therefore send for Dr. Disney, in whoso skill he had much confidence. " You require toning up, my good friend. There is nothing, however, to cause alarm. The pulse is regular, though not as full as it might be. I think, however, we can take CPi*e of that without much diffi- culty." And so Mr. Brompton would remain at home for a few days, but the time was very heavy on his hands ; for Mrs. Brompton hac' no appreciation of his moods or feelings, and her attempts at sympathy were by no means grateful. At such times Mark Brompton went back over his life, with just the same hardness and honesty as f"! ' ■ '■: MAKING STONES INTO BREAD. id hunger cart was o deeds ; f, which ) he had as iiof a wrought in all its d appar- ere times when the er disap- he terms , in that mes Mr. were not therefore d much There pulse is I think, bch diffi- lome for on his tation of aiipathy Ick over Inesty as he did everything, but the retrospect was not pleas- ant. He heard voices from men who had come to him pleading for some little kindness which he had failed to grunt. lie saw men with pale, despairing faces leave his office, his stern refusal meaning for them utter ruin, lie could feel now that he had l)een hard, merciless, exacting, demanding inexorably his pound of flesh. But do we not read of a famous but nameless in- dividual who during a time of sickness expressed a strong desire to be a monk, but who when his health was restored was anvthin"' but a monk ? "Whatever tenderness came to Mark Brompton during these times was known only to himself, nor was he any less rigorous once he was back iu his office. " The trouble with your Uncle Mark," said Mrs. A'aughen to Edward, just a few days before he left Eastwich, and she was giving him come motherly counsel, " is that he has made stones ii.to bread." " In what way ? " asked Edward ; for while ho was ])oetic and imaginative, still there weve phases of Jiis nature eminently practical. " In this way," answered Mrs. Vaughen, " he has taken his youth, his ideals, bis generous impulses, and by tlie sheer force of his will made them the servants of his ambitions." " But had he not a right to his ambitions ? " ques- tioned Edward, drawing his chair closer to his mother's ; for the conversation was taking place under tlie veranda of their little Eastwich home, and the evening shadows were deepening rapidly. "Surely," was the quick response, "provided such M DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. i ! i''- 'If ;?!; ambitions are not miserably selfish. As an active, useful man your Uncle Mark is honestly entitled to the honest man's loaf, but he, unlike your father," looking softly in the direction of the little cemetery, which could be seen in the distance, and which she had visited that afternoon, "is not content with his lawful portion." " Then you think that Uncle Mark has more loaves than riglttfuPy belong to him ? " Edward plausibly suggested, for he knew that Mr. Brompton's honesty vras unquestioned. " Legally and according to the standards of busi- ness he has a right to all he now possesses, but mor- ally no man ic5 justiliod in using his superior strength and skill so as to enrich himself at the expense of others." They were both silent for a few minutes, Mrs. Yaughen's eyes turning again to the distant church- yard, where they remained, as tiiough searching among the shadows for the one who had made life so rich to her, Edward's eyes reaching into the heavens, following the movements of the clouds, upon which the moonbeams were now beginning to fall. Tliese two quiet figures represented memory and hope. The one was, therefore, busy with tho past, the other busy witli tlie future. "You will meet tlie same temptation as your Uncle Mark, arid you will hear the same mysterious voice, * Command that tliese stones be made bread,' " resumed Mrs. Yanghen. "But success does not always mean yielding to temptation," Edward urged, not so much in defense 1' ; 1 u ''V^. • ♦ "'V, ^:c^ MAKING STONES INTO BREAD. 55 n active, ititled to father," emetery, liich she mt with re loaves plausibly . honesty 1 of bnsi- biit mor- strength pense of es, Mrs. church- arcliing made nto the Is, npon to fall. )ry and h'^ past, is your terious rend,' " ing to nse of his Uncle Mark as in support of his own ambi- tions. "No, bat when one is in the wilderness which wo call life, and when certain stone."*, which it is dishon- est even to touch, are lying all around us, to take these stones up in our hands and turn them into bread is tiie temptation which assails almost every- one, nor are there many who successfully resist it. Remember, my darling boy," this with great tender- ness, but with equal solemnity, " the wilderness in Judea is the same as the one in New York, and .he temptation of the one is the temptation of the other." Within a few days they parted, she to maintain her loving watch over the quiet grave, he to enter upon that terrible battle in which so many are slain. To the very minute the train rolled into the Grand Central Depot, and Edward Yaughen was soon on tlie platform. There is nothing remarkable to the average New Yorker in the big station on Forty- second Street, but what is there or what could there be remarkable to a New Yorker ? lie might leave his home in the morning, passing some vacant lots on the corner, and on returning in the evening find the lots occupied by a huge apartment house, ten- anted from top to bottom by families all settled and everything to rights, yet he would hardly think it a matter of sufficient importance to mention at the dinner table ! He invariably reads the paper while riding over the Brooklyn Bridge, and it is only when some country friend is with him that he 56 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ! > ! even looks at that marvel of engineering skill, with its threads and lacework of iron ropes and gigantic cables ; as wondrous, yet as beautiful a structure as this world has ever seen. No concern of his that buildings lift themselves so high from the ground that elevators are run express ; for in this busy town men cannot spare the time for an elevator to stop at each floor on the way up ! But this was Edward Yaughen's Urst visit to New York, and before he was half way down the platform of the depot he was fairly bewildered. lie followed, however, the stream of passengers, a stream which, like the river Danube, has three mouths, for some turned to the right, in the direction of tlie waiting rooms, some to the left, where they could reach the *' Elevated," and some went straight ahead toward the street. The pe- culiar cry of the depot hackman, a cry which for pene- trating quality is like that of the Yenetian gondolier when about to make a sharp turning, attracted our young friend, and ere long he was being driven to his uncle's home on Fifth Avenue. Mr. Brompton received him with as much cor- diality as Edward had reason to expect, and for several days he enjoyed himself visiting about the city, and seeing such things as would naturally be of interest to him. " I have spoken to Keen & Sharp, and they can make room for you in their oflSce," said Mr. Bromp- ton one morning, as he and Edward were in the breakfast room. "And who are Keen & Sharp?'' said Edward, smiling gratefully at his uncle. ^1 '■"' MAKING STONES INTO BREAD. dll, Avitli gigantic icture as his that ground isy town stop at Edward 3fore he lepot he ver, the lie river 1 to the some to 3d," and The pe- or pene- )ndolier fced onr iven to " Friends of mine, with whom 1 have had business relations for some years. They do here what is known as a general brokerage business, but have in- terests in other things, and I think an opening with them will be to your advantage." *'It is exceedingly kind of you, Uncle Murk." " O, I have simply made an investment in you," interrupted Mr. Brompton. " Sometimes I put a little money in wheat, sometimes in cotton, somc- tinies in a railroad ; and sometimes I lose, and then again 1 don't. Just how my investment in you will turn out remains to be seen." " When am I expected to begin work? " Edward asked. " I told Mr. Keen you were in the city, and could begin any time." " Then I will start in next Monday," said Edward. " Very well. I will drop a line to Keen & Sharp to that effect." 3h cor- several ty, and iterest 3y can [•omp- |n the rard, '^^'S PROPERTY OF SCARBORO PUBLIC LIBRARY DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. CnArTER VITI. The Dream and the Reality. TO take a young man fresh from college, and within a few weeks after graduation have him at M'ork, was Mark Brompton's way of doing things. To him a business life meant prompt- ness ; a disregard of either convenience or personal desire, and an obedience to wliicli everything must give M'ay without excuse or liesitation. " JMr. Jones," ho would say to his confidential clerk, " I have a ' cable ' from our correspondents in London which requires immediate attention. You will therefore take the BritanmG. which sails to-dav at one o'clock, and as you are familiar with this mat- ter you can arrange it according to instructions," speaking as indifferently as if he had asked Mr. Jones to do some little errand in Brooklyn or Jer- sey City. The fact that Mr. Jones had a daughter who was to be married within the week, and that the invita- tions for the wedding were already out, would not weigh even as dust in the balances of his command. So in less than three hours Mr. Jones would be on the big steamer heading for Liverpool. "Mr. Smith, I wish you to represent *the house' at the creditors' meeting of Bang & Crash in Chi- cago the day after to-morrow. You will take the train this afternoon, as I have wired some gentlemen THE DREAM AND THE REALITY. 59 llcge, and ioii have 8 way of t prompt- personal ing must nfidential idents in )n. You ils to-dav this mat- nctions," ed Mr. or Jer- wlio was invita- nld not mm and. d be oil house ' n Chi- ike the tie men . "! lo meet you to-morrow evening, so as to have an un- tlcrstanding of ulTairs." Tlien ho would take up some other mutter from liis desk, this one being settled. Poor Mr. Smith ! And ho had a christening party ill his home this wvy evening! The baby was christened, and the pui'ty came off; meantime he was luilf way to Uuffalo. " Mr. Brown, there are some interests of ours in Nevada connected with that road which the T., C. iSz O. expect to lease. As you have this matter in your department be good enough to give it imme- diate personal attention. You had better start at once, and arrange to remain there till everything is settled." And Mr. Brown had just become engaged to Miss (Irey and was looking forward to a summer of out- ings and pleasures of the rarest kind. But be 'rent to Nevada. Was Mark Brompton, then, a hard master ? Not at iiU. AVith him business took precedence, and every- thing else had to fall behind in such order and place as it was able to secure in the procession. "Seek yc iirst the kingdom of success, and let all other things be added unto you," was his understanding of a cer- tain lamiliar Scripture. It is most assuredly true than if Edward Vaughen had not been the nephew of Mark Brompton, his first day in the office of Keen & Sharp would also have been his last. The simple fact is, he was in no way fitted for such a place. He wrote an execrable hand. He knew nothing of figures — that is, the kind of 60 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. figures which are used in trade. Business forms wei e all unfamiliar to him. In plain truth, any one of the office boys had a better equipment for his work than Edward had. Before he had been an hour in the office he felt all out of sorts, and wondered how he would get through the day. Just what to do with himself was a question. True, Mr. Keen had intro- duced him to Mr. Singleton, the head of a depart- ment, placing him under his care, but Mr. Single- ton seemed to be too busy to give him much attention, for there were two days' mail piled up on his desk. Then the click of the three or four typewriters ; the monotonous burr of the " ticker " grinding out its yards of tape ; the constant coming and going of people, so that the doors of the outer office hardly remained closed for a full minute at a time ; boys rushing in with telegrams, many of which required immediate reply ; the general air of restlessness which pervaded the whole place — all these things, with the many others of which these were only a part, so affected Edward that he became confused and even irritated, and his gratitude to Mr. Brompton for opening his way into this eminent firm was not so great as it hud been. Ah ! the reality of business life was a far different thing from his college dreams. Within a few hours most of the romance had gone. In the office of Keen & Sharp there was no place for poetry or visions. Already he was folding tip • his coat of many colors, and the hard, grim, ter- rible earnestness of the strife upon which he was entering forced itself upon his unwilling soul. " Mr. Yaughen, if you have not made other ar- \V, I THE DREAM AND THE REALITY. 61 forms were one of tlie work than 3ur in the d how he :> do with had intro- a depart- .r. Single- attention, his desk, iters; the ig out its going of 36 hardly tne; boys 1 required 3SS which with the part, so nd even )ton for i not so )usiness [dreams, gone, place |ing tip • 11, ter- |ie was er ar- rangements," said Mr. Singleton, when lunch time liad come, " I will be very glad if you will lunch to- day with me." " You are ver;: kind," Edward responded, grateful lor this mark of attention. " Then we will go to the * Equitable,' " Mr. Single- ton said. " Very well," replied Edward, without, however, the fainte&c idea of what Mr. Singleton meant, other than that he referred to some lunching place. To the " Equitable " they went, and such a jostling, pushing, busy crowd Edward had never imagined possible. It wcs men, men, nothing but men — young men in all the joy and glory of their strength; men whose youth was disappearing, whose hair was tinging, whose faces were fading, and who were beginning to show the marks of business care ; men of mature years, some of whom were evidently ])rosperous, while others looked worn and haggard. It was a crowd made up of men of all moods and pas- sions, of all hopes and ambitions. " Ah ! Singleton, wasn't that a surprise to-day? " a tall, eager-faced gentleman observed, just as our friends were seating themselves at a small table in the basement restaurant. Mr. Singleton merely nodded and took up the bill of fare. " By the way. Singleton, can you toll me if — ? " dropping the balance of the question into Mr. Single- ton's ear so that no one could hear it but himself. Mr. Singleton quietly listened, go ng on with his study of the menu. 62 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. i( ■ W " Hallo, Singleton ! Another of your plans likely to go through. Big plums for somebody," and with a knowing smile the third man went bv. " You know, Angelo, what I want," Mr. Singleton said to the waiter, "fix up something, and serve enough for two," an order which Angelo understood, for Mr. Singleton was one of his most regular guests. But the fr'ends and acquaintances of Mr. Single- ton would not desert him in those usually weary mo- ments which lie between the disappearance of the waiter with tlie order, and his reappearance with the heavy-laden tray. "That deal brought Old Slick a million." " Tight squeeze Drowsley got in that Sahara irri- gation affair." "Blinks (fe "VYinks have gone to the bow-bows." "Sad about Snooks, just after he got that presi- dency." And so they came and went, talking about life and death, fortune and bankruptcy, success and failure, as if they were matters of the least moment and had only a passing importance. It is true that Snooks had dropped unconscious in his ofiice, and was taken home to die, just when the dream of years had been attained. It is also true that Blinks & Winks, after having made an heroic fight, were crushed and broken in the struffojle. And it was true that Drowsley was caught in an enterprise which almost ruined him. These are the chances which men have to take. 1 1 '1 (I ^•: t*. THE DREAM AND THE REALITY. 63 plans likely '," and with r. Singleton and serve understood, ost regular '■m Mr. Single- J weary mo- mce of the ce with tlie 1 ■Ti 1." Sahara irri- :>ow-bows." that presi- '^m ut life and id failure, t and had iconscious ust when % T having :en in the ■•!1 ht in an to take. The game of life, as it is played in New York, is full of risks. Fortunes are made and unmade by the scratch of a pen or the flash of a wire. Nowhere in the whole world is the battle of the wilderness fought with such eagerness, such intensity, such cour- age, sucli audacit3^ Every quality in the man, whether bad or good, is brought into play. TJie spring of the panther, tlie swoop of the hawk, the patience of the ox, the strength of the lion, are hero made manifest. On this battle ground, almost every day, stones are made into bread and men are changed into stones. After lunch Mr. Singleton and Edward returned to the office, but many times during the afternoon Edward found himself anxiouslv wonderinc: concern- ing: the thing's which he had seen and heard. That night he wrote a long letter to his mother, giving her a minute and vivid description of the day, but not a word did he breathe of his anxieties or disappointments. Indeed, his letter was written in a liuuiorous strain, and very few would have imagined anything of the heart pain and loneliness which were behind it. Mrs. Yaughen, however, was not of that number, for when slie read his letter, though her lips now and then parted into a smile, yet it was a smile with a quiver in it. \l fl M * m ft I 'ill f : i If i f il 1 ! llif !lH ^ I 64 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. CHAPTER IX. Angels of Flesh and Blood. OYER on tlio East Side of the city, well down- town, between Second and Third Avenues, lived the Sanviers, the family consisting of Mrs. Sauvier, her daughter Obe *^", and her son Fred. Mrs. Sauvier had been very seriously ill ; indeed, for some time her life had been despaired of, and com- ing up out of much weakness and suffering her re- covery was anything but rapid. " Still you are a little better to-day," Oberta said, encouragingly, as she sat by her mother's bedside and gently smoothed the forehead which yet throbbed with the obstinate fever. " Yes, dear, I am better," but the voice was hollow and uncertain, and the eyes drooped in sheer weari- ness. Nothing more was said for a few moments, Oberta's hand moving lovingly over her mother's brow, now and then the tender fingers lightly lifting the gray hair in a cooling, grateful way. " I wish I could have held out just a little longer," Mrs. Sauvier said, with a pathetic quaver in her voice. " You held out too long — longer than you ever will again," answered Oberta, bending down to lier mother's pale, worn face, and kissing her most ten- derly. ANGELS OF FLESH AND BLOOD. 65 well down- l Avenues, nisistino; of r son Fred, indeed, for f, and com- ing her re- )berta said, bedside and t throbbed as hollow lieer weari- moments, mother's itly lifting le longer," ler in her ever will to her nost ten- The home in which the Sauviers lived was very different from that of Mark Brompton or Dr. Disney. At one time the neighborhood was fairly fashion- able, and their house hud been occupied by people of considerable pretensions, but that was before the up- town movement had become so general. As wealth- ier families moved out poorer families moved in. Houses were altered over into tenements. Certain forms of business made steady inroads upon the quiet and dignity which were once so essential. The street was noisy — in the summer particularly so. In the gray dawn of the morning milk wagons would clat- ter over the rough pavements, to be followed by trucks and carts on their way to the markets. Then would come brewers' drays, which, driven with a speed that was almost reckless, and being heavy laden, made a noise as of severe thunder. As the day wore on the lighter vehicles of the grocery store and the meat market clattered continuously. Ped- lars, too, with stentorian voices and lungs as those of an organ bellows, bawled out their wares. From the avenue on either side the " Elevated " trains were rushing up and down, the noise, however, being fully equaled by the unceasing din of the surface cars, with their jangling bells, and the heavy traffic of all kinds ever on these great thoroughfares. In the winter the noises are deadened somewhat by the closed windows, together with the softer condition of the streets, but in the summe:i* the roar and confusion in such a neighborhood were almost unbearable. Poor Mrs. Sauvier! Her girlhood home was in the suburbs of Boston, not iar from Milton Hill, 6 66 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. f I i ! i \. i :f t ! where from her chamber windows she conldlook out uj3on the harl)or, with the sun smiting the waves as they rolled in from the measureless sea, and the lijrhts Ihishinnr ont in the darkness. The house stood in the midst of ample grounds, and, wliile not pre- tentious, indicated both comfort and refinement. And now she is fighting with fever in New York, in the midst of noises and confusion impossible to describe and ahnost impossible to endure. How did all this come about ? But what need to ask, for do we not see this same thing almost every time we look fairly around us? In every great city there are multitudes of men and women who have met with reverses and misfortunes and are hiding their poverty as best they can. Many years ago Mrs. Sauvier with her little chil- dren came to New York. Though not entirely de- pendent on her needle, it was her main support. Through the long, weary hours, whether in summer or winter, she worked unceasingly. She made no complaints over her dull, cheerless life, but kept on working while strength held out. She guarded her secret, whatever it was, for she had learned the value of silence. She held herself apart from her neigh- bors, but not proudly, gaining in the end their quiet respect. "With a fidelity which never wavered she ffave herself without reserve to the one task of sav- ing her children from the penalty which her position had imposed upon them. A sad, bitter fate seemed inevitable, but if heroic devotion could avert that fate it would cheerfully be given. She could not do much for the world at large, but she determined that {it ANGELS OF FLESH AND BLOOD. 67 iild look out he waves as 3a, and the house stood ile not prc- cnncnt. New York, 1 possible to 'hat need to linost every y great city n who have are hiding iv little chil- entirely de- iii support. in summer le made no ut kept on narded her d the value her neigh- their quiet vered she bask of sav- jer position ite seemed [avert that luld not do lined that in her children there would be nothing of delilo- ment, and that she would efface everything of murk or stain which their surroundings miglit involve. It cost her sleepless nights, bitter tears, pain, weariness, but so far slie had succeeded, and if this sickness had ended as at one time was feared,, not even Elijah, in his chariot of mysterious splendor, would have been more worthy of a welcome to the eternal heavens. " Sister Nora called yesterday afternoon," Oberta caid a few minutes later, " but as you were resting at tlie time she would not allow you to bo disturbed, but hoped to call again, perhaps to-day." " She is connected in some way with Mr. Dunbar's mission?" Mrs. Sauvier asked. " I am not certain, but presume so." " How kind they have been to me ! " " Not only to you, mamma, but to all of us. Mr. Dunbar has been more than kind, and as for Sister Nora I never can forojet her." Oberta had good reason to speak so gratefully, for when she was utterly worn out with slee])les3 nights and anxious days, fighting for her mother's life with rare courage, these brave souls, hearing in some way of her distress, came to her help, just as angels came to One who, fighting the battle of the wilderness, was faint and in sore temptation. , The angels that we see in pictures are usually very ethereal-looking beings, with wings mysteriously ad- justed, and draperies that gracefully lose themselves in the encircling clouds. We cannot, of course, but admire the seraphic creatures, still their exact use has never been made quite clear to us. For in this 68 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. 1 r iJ.y. ': world tired people need rest, hungry people nc'd bread, tempted people need help; licnce, while ■. e picture angel may serve a useful piii-pose as a iiVAi o decoration, or make the chief tigure in a stained-gi. -^s window, yet as a practical, matter-of-f aci , everyday Port of I iing tho average angel 18 not a brilliant In u I oera an angel is almost a necessity, for a poet without a)> number of cherubs and seraphs is very badly oS. ; indeed, they are a positive necessity, for " sings " and " wings " rhyme with " things," and poems are usually things, nothing more. But most people have little time for poetry. We prefer angels with hands, who are able to minister to cur nc ds, who can help us in our poverty, and render us some deiinite, practical service. It was to this class Sister Nora and Mr. Dunbar belonged. Instead of a trumpet she carried a side- bag, with her pocketbook inside. Instead of a halo he wore a sensible, broad -brimmed hat. Instead of floating mysteriously in the sky they walked through the crowded streets. Probably no artist would have taken either of them for the foreground of some ora- torio in paint, yet for practical purposes they were worth far more than a whole gallery of mediiEval visitants. In that part of the wilderness to which Sister Nora and Hugh Dunbar had devoted themselves, while the fight for bread was no more intense or bitter than in the region where Edward Yaughen was at work, still the struggle was on a different plane. Here men were not battling for mastery, but against positive I h ..J ANGELS OF FLESH AND BLOOD. 69 people nc *d e, while \ e L' as a f I'iif « o Btaincd-<^i. ss Br, every ^ay t a brilliant ty, for a poet •aphs is very lecessity, for things," and . But most prefer angels ;o cur no ds, [ider us some Mr. Dunbar irried a side- ad of a halo Instead of iked through would have lof some ora- s they were •f mediaeval Sister INora }s, while the itter than in it work, still Here men Inst positive -M if:: /J hunger. It was not brain against b:*ain, but hand a^J-ainst hand. The question was not one of competi tion, but of , .urvation. And t}iere are storms here just as in other places, and the same temptation which assailed Mark Bromp- ton, to which he yielded so weakly, comes in all its terrible forms. Hence men at times forget that they are men ; women forget that they are women. In this part of Gotham the sins ma^ ' -^ coarser, more outwardly brutal, than in Wall iSUef ' or Fifth Ave- nue ; the sins, however, are the ^^iiu e. A ring at the street door cal'^i Oberta to the " tube," when, hearing the voi; '> of Sister Nora, she hastened to give her cordial welcome. Not very tall, nor remarkably beautiful ; nothing at all wonderful in bearing or appearance ; no nov- elist's heroine, with queenly air, exquisitely formed features, having the star-like eyes, the shell-like ears, the ruby lips, with which the romancers have made us all familiar. Sister Nora was only a woman, but sire was a real woman, a noble, brave, true woman ; not one of those artificial femininities whose lives are spent in milliners' shops and dressmakers' rooms, and whose highest ambitions are attained in achieving honors at the horse show or a charity ball. "I am glad indeed to see you continue to im- prove," she said to Mrs. Sauvier, going over to the bed and giving her strong, firm hand to the sick woman. " Yes, we think mamma is doing nicely," answered Oberta, sitting down on the bed near the foot, Sister Nora taking a chair not far from Mrs. Sauvier. .m .;*:, A* 70 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM ; I I r' They talked for some minutes, going from one topic to another, Sister Nora being ciireful, liowevcr, that the conversation was liglit and pleasant, for it ■was important to relieve Mrs. Sauvicr of any undue strain. " Before I leave," Sister Nora said, " I wish to ask a favor." "Anything you ask will be a favor to us," grate- fully responded Oberta, looking at her mother, to which Mrs. Sauvier assented by a quiet motion of her head. " I have spoken of you to some dear friends of mine," Sister Nora went on, " and one of them, the daughter of a physician, would like some time to call with me." A cloud, not very large nor deep, yet a cloud withal, gathered for an instant on Oberta's face, though she tried bravely to hide it. " O, you proud, sensitive creature ! " Sister Nora said, smilingly. " You think my friend is coming here on a charity errand. Well, you are mis- taken." " Poor people, you know, are proud people," Oberta managed to say, by way of reply, but she felt that Sister Nora was meeting wdth a poor return for her great kindness. " Yes, and it is better so, for, in my opinion, pov- erty has often good cause for pride." Sister Nora had both o|)inions and convictions, as her friends could truthfully testify, for she was wont to speak her mind at times with considerable freedom. "By the way," she said, rising from her chair. i , K ANGELS OF FLESH AND BLOOD. 7t J from one il, liowevcr, isant, for it any uiiduo wish to ask us," grato- motlicr, to motion of friends of I them, the time to call et a cloud erta's face, (( my friend's name is Disney, Madge Disney, daugh- ter of our family pliysieian, Dr. Disney." " Disney ! " ahnost screamed Mrs. Sauvier, raising her head from the pillows and looking earnestly at Sister Kora. " Yes, Disney," answered Sister Nora, amazed at the effect of the name upon Mrs. Sauvier. " And his daughter is coming to see me ! " Mrs. Sauvier almost gasped, her eyes now filled with what seemed a look of horror. " Yes, such is her wish, hut not unless you wish it," was the reply. " O, the ways of God, the ways of God ! " Mrs. Sauvier hoarsely whispered, falling back faint and exhausted. ister Nora is coming are mis- people," ut she felt return for nion, pov- ster Nora Br friends to speak m. her chair, ! i\ 'Hi DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ''I ij i;l ! I I Mi JV < ■1 illi i ii i ■ i CHAPTER X. An Evening at Dr. Disney's. yy JflSS DISNEY had a keen but uncomforta- ly\ bio memory of tliat meeting with Hugh JL Dunbar, and every time she thought of it, which was quite frequently, her discomfort only in- creased. Of course she had not been rude, not even in the most remote way, for such a tiling was impos- sible to one whose social adjustments were so perfect and whose motions and phrases were balanced in the highest form of art. Still there was the distinct impression of a failure on her part to meet the full requirements of the case. Very likely some of those introspective beings who enjoy mental analyses, and who are never quite so happy as when they are reducing motives and rea- sons in their crucibles, could discover certain un- worthy elements in these feelings of Miss Disney. Perhaps they might even go so far as to insinuate that her annoyance was not because of her tieatnient of Mr. Dunbar, but the result of a stupid blunder for which she alone was to blame. "Well, what of it ? Most of the people now in the world are human — very human — a fact which cannot well be controverted, and yet a fact which many serious moralists are apt to ignore. It should ever be borne in mind that, originally, men (and women too, strange as it may seem) w^ere made a little lower AN EVENING AT DR. DISNEY'S. 73 omforta- h Hugh r\lt of it, , only in- not even 18 impos- perfect sd in the distinct t the full ngs who quite so and rea- ain un- Disney. nsinuate eatnient der for in the cannot many ^Id ever women le lower than the angels, and bo far as can bo observed the order of creation yet obtains. The only way to have even a fair proportion of enjoyment in this world is to take things for just what they seem to be, and not bo too much con- cerned about what they really are. No sensible, in- dustrious, well-bred bee troubles itself with the roots of the flower upon which it luxuriates with such sat- isfaction to itself and profit to the community. Why should it? Honey is not found in roots, but in blos- soms. The man who would preserve his illusions must not go behind the scenes. It is a great mistake to question things too closely. You think that Mrs. Dent's smile is hollow and in- sincere ? You think that Mrs. Trcfousi is only acting a part, and that her sweet, winning ways have no reality whatever ? You think that Miss Jouvin is only pert and silly, and not witty and romantic as some claim she is ? Admitting that in each case your supposition is correct, what have you gained ? And then, if your supposition is not correct, only think how much in- justice you have done, besides the personal loss to yourself ! Queer old parable that is of the " Beam and the Mote." Queer old world this is, uny/iow. Of course Madge Disney felt mortified. WI / shouldn't she? Here was a young man to whom sue had barely condescended ; whose treatment at her hands was anything but gracious; who was practi- cally dismissed by her — though, of course, in a very n Dwellers in gotham. m i: polite way — and now she discovers that socially he actually has ilie advantage, while in other respects his the position is much superior to tne one sue occupies ! Human nature, with all its ductility and tensility, could not endure this strain without yielding some- where. And in order that nothing sliould be lacking to complete the measure of her annoyance, she now re- members that he was positively good-looking; that his eyes were not only bright, but expressive ; tliat his voice was pleasant and mellow, and that there was something singularly attractive about his smile. She even remembered that his exceedingly nnconven- tional tweed suit was well made, and fitted him per- fectly, and that as he stood there on the beach, talk- ing with John — his eyes full of earnestness, his face lit up with the eagerness of discussion — he presented an appearance by no means displeasing to the fem- inine eye. Would her memory have been so tenacious of these details if she had not learned from her brother of Mr, Dunbar's position and wealth ? Probably not ; this, however, proves nothing except that Madge was human, and consequently subject to infirmities and limitations. In a few days John Disney called upon Mr. Dun- bar to urge him to come over and spend an evening in the Disnev household. " Do some mission work with us," John said. "My mother is away — called out of town by the serious illness of her father; my father has two or three special cases which keep him busy, so that my sister AN EVENING AT DR. DISNEY'S. 75 ally lie ■espects cjupies ! ■nsility, 5 some- king to now re- g ; that e ; tliat it there 3 smile, conven- lim per- ;h, talk- his face esented le fem- )f these ther of Ay not ; dge was ;ies and r. Dnn- jvenmg . "My serious r three y sister and I are left very much to ourselves. O, it ia pitiful, in a whole city full, friends we have none ! You see I remember Hood." " Yes," answered Dunbar, " but you always had a remarkable memory for poetry, and what you failed to reiuember your own fancy supplied. By the way, where is that sad-faced youth with the voice into which he used to squeeze tears, fjid who put us throusch a coiirse of agonies with his 'Bridge of Sighsl ' " ■ " You mean Muggs ? " "Muggs was our name for him — and an appro- priate name too." " And yet I always liked Muggs ; he was a sincere, well-meaning fellow." " Yes," Dunbar answered, " but he had no future that I could see. He could recite a little and banjo a little, but the man who expects to make his way in life must have a more effective weapon than a banjo, noble and soulful instrument as it is." " ' Shake not thy gory locks at me,' " laughed John ; '"Rude am I in my speech, and little blessed with the soft phrase of peace,' but there are some sins which cannot in honesty be brought to my door." "That being the case," was the smiling response, "you may expect me on the evening you name." Madge Disney was one of those exceedingly for- tuna*\^, but (though the admission must be made with profoand sorrow) not very numerous, young ladies who look well however costumed. Still, a white gown of some soft materiul, simply made, but ex- quisitely fitting, in no wise lessened her attractive- 76 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. V i\ : ii M ness. She was fairly tall, of superb figure ; hair just dark enough to escape the auburn tint, but wliich had a trick of catching and holding the sunlight; eyes that were open and clear, yet ricli with mys- terious life, and, while her features taken separately may not have attained Grecian harmony, the general expression was undoubtedly one to be desired ; for Madge Disney was just about as winsome and at- tractive as any one woman has a right to be. As she came forward in the soft lio-ht of the summer evening to greet Hugh Dunbar she formed the chief figure in a very pleasing picture, and he thought — well, suppose we do not concern ourselves just now witli what Hugh Dunbar thought. Thought is a very elusive thing. It caimot be poured out like molten iron into molds prepared to receive it. Language is to thought as the beach is to the ocean — a place where we may stand at times and gaze out upon the formless and the infinite. The man who can say all he thinks has either a marvelous vocabu- lary or such limitations of thinking as commend him to our pity. " O, it is very simple," Mr. Dunbar said, in reply to John's question as to how he had entered upon his present work. " I have always been, just as you are now, interested in the social problem, and I was anxious to reach definite conclusions." " What are social problems ? " asked Madge„ " The more I hear of what people call socialism the less I understand it." " Your perplexity. Miss Disney, is very natural. In point of fact there is no such thing as socialism ; AN EVENING AT DR. DISNEY'S. 77 liim neither are there distinctively social problems," Mr. Dunbar answered. " And yet," interrupted John — for it was evident Mr. Dunbar had not completed his answer — " every- one is talking more or Iciss about ' socialism,' ' the emancipation of the working classes,' the ' crimes of monopoly,' and things of that sort." " Yery true," said Mr. Dunbar, " but there is probably no general matter concerning which there is so much said and so little understood. The social economist, as he calls himself, has his theory ; the labor agitator has one entirely different, while the philanthropist has yet another one." " But am I to understand that you deny the very existence of socialism and social problems ? " ques- tioned John. " As such, yes — and yes most decidedly ! " " I am afraid, Mr. Dunbar, that your very kindly efforts to enlighten me have taken us away from my brother's question — as to your reasons for the work in which you are now engaged," Madge suggested. " No," pleasantly remarked Mr. Dunbar, "your brother's question is still in the foreground." John, who in his way was partial to an argument, evidently had another question about ready, but Madge was too quick for him. "Now, John, please allow Mr. Dunbar to answer your first question before you propose anothei," she said, hastily, for she was anxious to know why Hugh Dunbar had put aside the life which was properly his and entered upon another so entirely different. " I said, a moment since," Mr. Dunbar remarked, L*;!'! II 'I I t 78 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. , f til '■■ ■,^!: [y ■■! Mm |i ?f I^Ki 1 '1 111 ! S!l evading most adroitly a question which was almost personal, and making the conversation more general, " that there was no such thing as socialism, and that the term ' social problems ' was quite misunderstood. We have just the same old prol)lems which the world luis ever had — the problems of poverty, of suffering, of distress, of drunkenness, of ruin, of waste — and these we must face and solve." " Still, the question of my brother remains, and, as you have said, in the foreground," Madge said, with a quiet smile, clearly discerning Mr. Dunbar's pur- pose to lead the conversation away from hitnself. " Well, there was nothing remarkable about it," he replied, seeing no way to avoid an explanation. " First I joined a mission band who went out from the seminary. Then I connected myself with one of the East Side churches, took a class in the Sunday school, visited in the liomes of my scholars, through them had access to other homes — so I gradually came to know something of the people." " And what sort of people did you find ? " asked Madge, very much as she would have asked Stanley concerning the people lie met in Central Africa. " The same kind of people I have known all my life," was the reply. " Not so well housed or as well clad, but the same people. In some cases the frame enhances the picture, but. Miss Disney, when one is lookinor at a Murillo or a Rubens the frame is not ( f liiuoh. consequence. There is no difference in the book' of life on the East Side or the West Side ex- cept in the bintiing. The story is the same." *' ^ lien it became known that you had a basket of AN EVENING AT DR. DISNEY'S. 79 as )f loaves and fishes your ministry doubtless became very popular," John good-lmmorcdly remarked. *' I liave kept the basket out of sight thus far," was the quiet reply. " How could you? You were driven over to your Sunday school ; you brought your friends at times to see what was going on. Besides, were there not ' out- ward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual grace ? ' Madge, my only and well-beloved but some- what unregenerate sister, it is for your benefit that I am quoting from tne Catechism." " My dc?.r friend, I do not go there as you sug- gest. "Where you found me the other day, there I live." Tliis was said without the least affectation or at- tempt at the heroic. *^ Live there ! " Madge and John exclaimed, in the same breath. "Why, of course. How else could I do the peo- ple any good ? This whole sch'-me of charity serv- ice — throwing things at the pc- •, like shells from a mortar — is of no use whatever. There must be direct personal contact between the ricli and the poor — any other service does more harm t'lan good." " This is hard on many of our charities and insti- tutions," said Dr. Disney, w lo had been called out immediately after dinner, and came into the room while Dunbar was speaking. "I do not mean to be hard on them," Mr. Dunbar answered, " only on the inet'iod of administration. The remedy for the present stale of things is not in soup kitchens or bread tickets. Often it seems to *l i\: 1 80 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. It n i T 1 ii ' ; i ''1 ifiy i me as if we tossed help to the poor as we do bones to a dog. We must adopt a very different course if we would really effect anything. But now, Miss Disney, may we not have a Httle music ? " There were two or three reasons why Madge was willing to accede to tliis very natural request: she had a nice liand ; slie sat gracefully ; she looked well at the piano, and she played with a fair measure of skill. There were about the same number of reasons why Mr. Dunbar rather abruptly asked for this favor : the conversation was more personal than he enjoyed ; the Disney atmosphere was not seriously sympathetic ; he could endure average music with a patience ac- quired througii much suffering, and he would have a chance to study Madge more closely. So they went over to the piano. Dr. Disney and John remaining within easy speaking distance of each other. " Singular sort of man," said Dr. Disney to John, under cover of ono of Madge's double-handed craslies. " Yery," answered John. « Married ? " « Ko." " Particular friend of yours ? " " Yes." Madge was now rippling along the upper register, with little bits of music dripping from her fingers — like a fountain playing in tlie courtyard of an Ital- ian villa. Then came another double-hander, and with it : X--- AN EVENING AT DR. DISNEY'S. •1 " He seems interested in Madge." " Hadn't noticed it." " Get him to come over ao-ain " "Yes, sir." More ripples at the piano, involving silence every- where else, but soon another crash. " I like liis appearance." "I like him." " Good family ? » "Very." " I hope we may see more of him " " So do I." 6 83 DWELLERS IN G0T14AM, PI h CHAPTER XI. A Sunday on the East Side, THOUGH Hugh Dunbar had spoken to the Disneys in a quiet, simple way concerning the opening of his work on the East Side, yet there were times when he was tempted to give up in utter despair. Everything seemed hopeless. The conditions were all discouraging. His first visit to the church with which he had resolved to connect himself was a bitter experience. The structure, though architecturally distinguished from the other buildings on the street was anything but imposing or impressive. An iron fence, sadly in need of paint and broken in several places, straggled along ' i;e front of the edifice, enclosing a narrow strip of ground intended presumably as a grass plot, but the grass, through years of neglect, had become discouraged, Jience only grew in rank, sprawling tufts, and at such distances as hardly to be on speak- ig terms. The spaces intervening were either bare or ornamented with scraps of dirty paper and the usual litter that accumulates, no one knows liow. Over the entrance was supposedly a stained-glass window, but so covered with a rusty netting of heavy wire as to hide it almost completely. Under this window, a little to one side, was a board of Gothic pretensions, which board was intended to s?^ forth the name of the church and the times when iiik- bare tlie low. flass of ider of den I A SUNDAY ON THE EAST SIDE. 89: services were held, but the years had so bleached it as to make it practically useless. The church doors were not altogether guiltless of paint, still not enough remained to establish the original color. On entering the vestibule Dunbar saw that the walls were dingy, the matting ragged, and every- thing just as cheerless as could well be imagined. He went down a short stairway of live or six steps leading to a basement, called by courtesy a Sunday school room. An ungainly, space-absorbing furnace stood in one corner, from which three or four rusty, dusty, hot-air pipes, reached out, traveling the en- tire length of the room. Some half dozen stiff, awkward gas lights hung from the ceiling, but the ceiling being low, and the lights not protected, the results were seen in broad sooty patches. A picture of a distressed young female, out somewliere in mid- ocean, holding a very woe-bogone face to the sky, yet supposed to be singing a Sunday school hymn, filled a space on one of the walls. A big linen map, detached half way across from the bottom roller, and curling up quite extensively, with heavy lines and angles, indicating the tours of the first apostles, occupied a space on the opposite wall. Here and there were some mottoes of the old time " sampler " order, to which the Sunday school children were supposed to look for help and inspiration in their moments of weariness. The whole place was damp, grewsome, cliilly, and Dunbar thought that the Board of Health should not permit children to be cooped up in such a place. Then he went up stairs, where he ^'i J: 84 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ,iti 1 ji' iri V Baw stiff, uncomfortable pews ; dusty, faded carpets ; cracked, discolored walls ; a wheezy old organ, from which the soul of music had long since departed ; a ])ulpit with draperies worn and ragged, and every- thing else to correspond. Hugh Dunbar did some serious thinking as ho went through this East Side church. He contrasted it with the churches on Madison and Fifth Avenues. He thought of the rich decorations, the soft carpets, the inviting pews, the blending of color, the lavish outlay to make the place attractive. Then ho tliought of the splendid organ, the carefully chosen choir, the imposing service, the fashionable congrega- tion. " These people over here," he said to himself, "are our brothers and sisters, sharers in the common lot, children of the same Father ; and yet we have deserted them. Anything more selfish or cowardly is hardly possible." But while Mr. Dunbar met with many serious discouragements, he was more than compensated in making the acquaintance of the Hev. Frank Sterling, tlie senior clergyman in charge of the Mission. Mr. Sterling's seniority, however, was not so much a matter of years, for he had barely turned thirty, as of experience ; he having been associated with Mr. Hartley in the Mission for some time, and now, ow- ing to Mr. Hartley's removal to a "Western city, was in full charge. Hugh Dunbar could not possibly have fallen into better hands, for Sterling was a genial, hearty, manly fellow, "with enough of the Old Adam remaining to keep his feet on the ground and have human blood in his veins. He was shrewd, but El ! S^v. A SUNDAY ON THE EAST SIDE. 85 not cynical ; keen, but not bitter; rcligiouB, but not obnoxiously pio.is. " Tlio children of this generation," ho said to Dunbar, as they stood on the street corner one even- ing, " arc wiser tlian the children of light. Look in there and contrast that with the church wo have just loft." Dunbar looked in and saw embossed ceilings, at- tractive though gaudy decorations, glittering brass work, and any quantity of light and color and warmth. "Look across the street," he said at anotlier time, pointing to where scores and hundreds of young people were crowding into a clieap theater. " Some of the wise men of Gotham should try to solve that problem." Hugh made some very proper remark about over- coming evil w'ith good, whereupon Sterling said : "Of course those of us who have boxes at the Carnegie and the Metropolitan ; who attend any number of fetes in the season ; who regard yachts and horses and country houses as among the neces- saries of life; who will spend on bonbons what w^ould support a family — we will think that those people," pointing again to the crowds who were still thronging in, " are very foolish and extravagant ; but, Dunbar, do you know that that poor, clieap, miser- able show, with its claptrap and tinsel, is about all the relaxation multitudes have. How so many of them live as they do goodness only knows ! " They walked out quite frequently, and within easy gunshot of the church Dunbar found almost I- IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) % ^^ /V ^^ 1.0 ItilM |Z5 - BIO i Ui lii 12.2 I.I m. 1.25 V"' i'-^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. MSSO (716) 872-4503 86 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ill. I I every form of amusement that could be devised — music halls, dance halls, cheap shows, and drinking places without number. " I was a good deal of a prig when I first came over here," said Sterling one evening, after a walk a little longer than usual, during which they had seen something of the seamy side of their parish, " a proper, prudish, pious prig ; but when I tried to put myself in the place of some of these people I found they were doing better than I would. No man knows himself until he' has been tried. You have no desire to steal, but what if you were hungry? You have no wish to drink, but suppose your life was utterly dreary and hopeless? You cherish honor and virtue, but how if you found dishonor and vice much more profitable, and without them would starve ? " Dunbar's first Sunday in his new parish was al- most as discouraging as his first visit to tlie Mission. As he made his way he could not but notice the swarms of people who crowded the streets. Children of all ages and conditions were playing in their usual noisy way. Women with babies in their arms were standing around doorways or sitting on the steps. Younger women leaned out of the open windows, many of them with frowsy heads, and generally un- kempt in their appearance. Elderly women carried baskets and bundles, as if they were coming from the grocery store or meat market. Men lounged around carelessly, most of them smoking short clay pipes, and holding such generous conversation as could be heard clear across the street. The younger (- ^ \i A SUNDAY ON THE EAST SIDE. 87 a men had donned their Sunday raiment, and as a further mark of Sabbath observance had exchanged the customary pipe for a pretentious cigar. Nominally the saloons at the corner and down the avenue were closed, but Mr. Dunbar saw numbers of men going in and coming out, no one seeming to mind them. In fact, none of the stores was closed, and people were making their purchases just as on other days. Hugh Dunbar was shocked at what he saw, and later when he came to know Mr. Sterling better he spoke of the reckless disregard of the Sab- bath. " And why not ? " was the startling reply of Mr. Sterling. " Many of these people were at work till midnight, and had no other time to do their market- ing- )) Hugh ventured on a remonstrance, but Sterling was prompt in his answer : " Dunbar, there is a whole pile of rubbish to be cleared away before we can build a wall of Sabbath observance in this city. The Saturday half holiday must apply to mills and factories as well as banks and gov^ernment offices. Workmen must be paid off earlier. Stores must close earlier. To talk, as many of us do, about the Fourth Commandment and the American Sabbath is utter folly. The old Jewish plan of beginning the day before needs to be revived." When Mr. Dunbar went to the Mission on that first Sunday morning a confused, mystiiiod expres- sion came into his face as, in glancing quickly over the congregation, he saw Sister Nora. Try as he would he could not quite reconcile her with either the 88 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. place or the congregation. She sat under the gallery, on the fiide, in such relations to the window as to be in the shade, her face also partially liidden, and yet the impression deepened upon Dunbar that he had met her before, but where he could not recall. He tried f aitlif ully to follow the order of service ; still his mind, and his eyes too, reverted unconsciously to the quiet figure in the pew under the gallery. One moment he was certain, the next he was uncertain. One time a name almost leaped to his lips, only to be dismissed as wildly improbable. Mnemonics is a great science ; so is metaphysics ; so is everything that relates to the movement of mind and spirit ; but when one is anxious to connect a face with a name or a name with a face it is sur- prising how little help science affords. At the close of the service Mr. Sterling said : " I am anxious for you to meet Sister Nora," and in a few moments Mr. Dunbar was introduced to the very person who had so deeply interested him. As the one looked at the other instantly there was a flash of recognition, though neither spoke, just gravely bowing. Mr. Sterling being called aside, Sister Nora quietly said : " Mr. Dunbar, as you are here on the same errand as I am let :iie be * Sister Nora,' which for the time being is sufficient for all purposes." " Then Mr. Sterling does not know ? " " He knows my name, and that I have come from the other side of the city, but not much more. At least I think not." " The same is true in my case," Mr. Dunbar said. tin A SUNDAY ON THE EAST SIDE. 39 " Then we understand each other ? " " I hope so." It is not to be expected that this chapter fully ex- plains itself; still, like the stern liglits of a ship, it may throw some gleams upon waters over which we have already sailed. i • I m 90 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. CHAPTER XII. ff Why Elinor Became "Sister Nora.' YTTLmOR ARLINGTON, known tons as " Sister Iff Nora," was the daughter and only child of a ^^ wealthy New York merchant, who died just before our story opens, leaving her a large fortune. Iler life had not been a happy one. Mr. Arlington, a man of the Mark Brompton type, had given him- self unreservedly to business ; hence the entire burden of social duties and obligations fell upon his wife. In the beginning Mrs. Arlington w^as a sweet, gentle, though somewhat romantic woman ; given a little to certain fancies and ambitions, but as life took on its more real phases the visions of girlhood gradually disappeared. She was rich, and according to the popular notion should have been happy, but she was not happy — far from it. She was the mis- tress of a large and elegant hoiijg, but there is a vast difference between a house Mi a home, and hers was only a house. She had that which is supposed to meet the full desire of a woman's hope — a rich and varied wardrobe, but she had an empty, desolate heart. For some time after Elinor was born Mrs. Arling- ton seemed much as in the more simple and joyous days, but her husband was ambitious, social demands were inexorable ; so her little daughter was given to the care of servants, and the old, monotonous life was resumed. Not possessing any particular strength WHY ELINOR BECAME "SISTER NORA." 91 of character, and not being fitted epecially for leader- ship, her position in the procession was not a very conspicuous one, still she had to keep inarching with the others. If one has any choice of position in the social parade, the best place, most assuredly, is up close to the band, for leadership, though attended with some embarrassment, has the compensation of prominence. The next best place is at the rear, as it affords op- j)ortunity of dropping out in a quiet, unobtrusive way. The most difficult and tiresome station in the procession is that of the main body ; for it does noth- ing except march under orders. Mrs. Arlington was in the main body, and just marched with the others. She went to the opera; she went to the liorse show ; she went to a prescribed number of entertainments; she went to the usual functions. For several seasons she kept her place in the ranks, then she slackened ; her uniform wasn't quite so jaunty, nor worn with such effect ; her step dragged a little at times, though she smiled and pre- tended it was a stumble, and her face, despite its " pipe clay," began to show the strain. At length she dropped, dropped right down ; so the ambulance was sent for, and she was carried out of the ranks. " Utter exhaustion," said Dr. Disney, as he laid his practiced fingers on her wrist, feeling, in that tender, delicate way of his, for the pulse which he knew was both feeble and irregular. " Tired out," he murmured, sympathetically, after he had found the pulse, for it was even weaker and more intermit- tent than he had feared. DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. " Mrs. Arlington must have a complete rest," lie said in the library to Mr. Arlington, when he had completed his examination. " She has been over- doing of late. Too much care ; too much respon- sibility ; too many burdens for one so sensitive and highly organized." "Too much care!" repeated Philip Arlington, after Dr. Disney had gone, and he was thinking over what tlie doctor had said. " She had no care what- ever, at least none that I knew of." " Too much responsibility I " he went on. " "What possible responsibility did she have ? " " Too many burdens ! " he continued. " But what woman had a lighter or easier life ? " He had taken her from a little parsonage, back among the Connecticut hills, where for years her father had ministered to a well-meaning but rather austere people. In this quiet country home her life, though limited in many ways, was as free from taint as the snow, which lay a heavenly white, gleaming in the winter's sun. No flower of the early summer was more deliciously sweet or innocent as she stood beside him on that June morning in her father's little church, and repeated the solemn words which fell so impressively from her father's lips. They had known each other from childhood. Phil Arlington had been her sturdy little champion when they both attended the district school. He fought her battles every time it was necessary, and a good many times when it was not necessary. He pulled her sled with his as they went to the top of the hill where the " coast " started, and woe betide WHY ELINOR BECAME "SISTER NORA." 93 lie Ho a He of ide the boy who " interfered " or attempted to " run her down." Once Bill Jukes, who was steering the " double runner " upon which she was a passenger, managed to tip over the whole load in a way which was too awkward to be accidental, but though Phil said nothing just then, yet next morning when Bill Jukes appeared in school his nose was demoralized, his upper lip was badly cut, and his face had various signals of distress. The fact that Phil could not hold either pen or pencil in his right hand for two or three days was never fully explained, but some- how there was an impression all through the school that the condition of Phirs hand accounted for Bill Jukes's nose. After Phil went to Dan Hubbard's grocery store as a sort of clerk it was noticed that Jennie Randall had a great many errands in that grocery store, and never complained no matter how often her mother sent her to make purchases. It was a sad day for both of them when Phil went to New York to enter upon business, but he went with her picture in his heart, her kiss upon his lips, and her father's promise to give her to him when he had a home ready. All these things went through Mr. Arlington's mind, as with sad, anxious face he sat in his library, pondering the words of Dr. Disney : " Too much care, too much responsibility, too many burdens." " And what care had she ? " he kept asking him- self. He forgot that she had self-care, self-interests, the most distressing of care, for a life which has no -*»* 94 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. interests but its own is self-absorbed, and having no centrifugal force to swing it out upon an orbit of usefulness, is soon drawn within tlie narrowest of circles, and becomes a poor, helpless thing. And the same was true of her burdens and respon- sibilities. They were all her own. There was noth- ing vicarious in them. She was not bearing or suf- fering for others. Her life had no great motive in it, which, like the fly wheel of an engine, holds and balances the power. The machine, therefore, went all to pieces, and though Dr. Disney knew that the case was a very serious one, yet it was even more serious than ho imagined. Perhaps if Philip ArHngton had been content with his fair proportion of " bread," all this would not have happened. While he was laboring for more than he ever could consume, his wife was dying of soul hunger. He had vowed most solemnly " to love and to cherish," and while in one way he had done both, in another way he had done neither. Mrs. Arlington would have been content with coarse, cheap " bread " if witli it she could have had the joy and companionship of the one whose presence made all of life for her. "Phil," slie said one day, as he sat beside her couch, for she was now unable to leave her room, " I wish you would send for Elinor." " I have sent for her," he answered. " She will be here to-morrow, though I meant it as a pleasant surprise for you." " Thank you," she gratefully responded. " I am WHY ELINOR BECAME "SISTER NORA." 95 am sorry to call her homo just now, but I feel very lonely at times. You sec you are away so much ; " and there was a catch in her voice which suggested the possibilities of a sob. On the morrow Elinor came. She had been away a great deal during the past few years, for Mr. Ar- lington preferred that both her preparatory and col- lege work should be done at some distance from the city, Elinor not being specially vigorous or robust. Mother and daughter soon began to understand each other, the inner life of the one being quick- ened by illness, and that of the other by sympathy ; and like flowers turning to the light, so they turned toward each other. Consequently out of a relation which in the beginning was almost formal there came up a holy affection which blossomed in exqui- site beauty, filling the whole house with its sweet and delicious fragrance. " My life, Elinor, has been a sad mistake," Mrs. Arlington said one morning, as Elinor sat beside her mother's bed, having just closed a book from which she had been reading. " I have lived only for my- self," she went on, " and it has been poor, pitiful liv- ing." Early that morning, long before Elinor was awake, Mrs. Arlington's memories had gone back to the little parsonage in the Connecticut hills. She had heard the birds sing in the rich, sweet notes of her girlhood, notes that lifted themselves into the bend- ing sky, and went on to join the chorus of the an- gels. She had heard the hum of the bees, as they came and went from the honeysuckle at the door of DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. the mansO) taking Bometliing of its wondrous sweet- ness, but leaving cnougli to fill the air with that dainty perfume. She had heard her father^s voice as in the little garden his song broke out : " Awako, my soul, and with the gun Thy daily stage of duty run." She had heard her mother calling her as was her wont, " Jennie ! " " Jennie I " a tender, loving em- phasis upon each word. The dear little parsonage is now occupied by strangera. Her father sleeps not far from the church in which he had ministered for so many years. Be- side his grave is that of her mother, while she is here, alone in this miglity city, looking sadly back upon days which never can return. "Elinor," she said, at another time when they were alone and were having one of their serious heart-to-heart talks, " I have heard the cry of the children and the moan of the poor, but I was so taken up with my own concerns that I gave them no heed. O, I am ashamed to die, for I have done nothing for anyone but myself I " " Disturbed sleep. Feverish conditions. Kestless nights," said Dr. Disney, even more tenderly and sympathetically, for he was now fully aware of the extreme gravity of Mrs. Arlington's illness. "Nora," she said one day, for that was her pet name for Elinor, " I am not going to exact a promise from you, but if yon have opportunity, will you do something for me after — after I am gone ? " looking wistfully into the tearful face of her daughter. WHY ELINOR BECAME "SISTER NORA." 97 |pet lise do ing Elinor could not speak, but Mrs. Arlington folt the silent pronii&o which was made. " Then do something for those to whom life is so hard, and for whom so little is being done. Per- haps in some way you can atone for ujy seliishness and sin," turning her poor, worn face to the window, and looking out with weary, anxious eyes upon the sky, from which the light was now fading. After a few moments she spoke again : " You can do what you think best. Perhaps you might put a bed in some hospital, or a room in a home for old people, or something else may seem even better, but whatever you do, remember me, dear, won't you ? " Then came the terrible days, when Philip Arling- ton would joyously have given his whole fortune if he could only have gone back and started life with lier once more. And how different the new life would be! But it was too late. The bread for which she had hungered so long was not now within reach, and she starved to death ! At first Mr. Arlington hardly realized the full force of the blow, but gradually there came upon him a feeling of utter desolation. For a time he tried to absorb himself even more fully in business, hoping in this way to deaden something of his pain, but when he returned in the evening the house seemed so lonely and deserted, more like a house in- habited by ghosts and shadows than by living, human creatures. Elinor did the best she could to comfort the stricken man, but his grief was too deep and his 7 98 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. MJ sorrow too heavy for even giicli sympathy as hers. And then came the bitter remembrance tliat he had neglected liis wife, that in his eager, determined pur- suit of wealth he had left her alone, and that had it not been for his selfishness she might still be with liim. At such times conscience was implacable. Sternly it diiected his horror-stricken eyes to scenes and events back in the distant years. Poor Philip Arlington ! Tiie world said that he was a rich man, but at heart he was poor and desolate. One morning the rising bell rang out as loudly as it ever did, but Philip Arlington did not hear it. He would never hear it airain ! Dr. Disney said it was angina pecto7'is, and so filled out the certificate ; but had he given the com- mon translation — breast pang — only allowing the pang to be of the spirit and not of the flesh, his return to the registrar would have been the exact truth. While yet in the very prime of life — vntli what should have been his best years still before him ; with strength and time and opportunity all spent upon pursuits that were purely selfish ; with no memorial of life or character save that which could be written on a balance sheet — Philip Arlington passed out from the world of men, leaving everything behind him, and going as poor as when he was born into the unseen and unknown. We understand now why it is that " Sister !N"ora " is present at the East Side church to give greetings and welcome to Hugh Dunbar on that Sunday morning spoken of in the preceding chapter. HUGH DUNBAR HAS A REVELATION. 99 com- the L, his exact with efore y all ithno could ngton thing born iora j> )tings inday CHAPTER XIII. Hugh Dunbar Has a Revelation. T ^TJGH DUNBAR was exceedingly fortunate in rn being the grandson of his grandfather. Any- \/ one can have a fatlier. The right to have a father is generally conceded, nor is there anything remarkable in having almost any kind of a father. But when a man has had a grandfather, an actual, definite, tangible grandfather, a grandfather of material substance and earthly possessions, such a man may well be envied. For most surely it is written in the laws of the Gothamites that without a grandfather none can enter the heaven of the elect, but must ever remain outside blue-blood paradise, an alien and a wanderer. Hugh Dunbar, therefore, had good cause for devout thanksgiving. Moreover, his grandfather was no ordinary mortal, for when certain parts of Gotham were under the control of the festive goat ; when sundry other parts gave pasturage to saintly looking sheep ; when City Hall Park was so far up- town as to be considered in the distant suburbs, the aforesaid grandfather invested his entire savings in Goatville and Sheeptown. Canny old Scot ! And not so very old, either, for before his head was whitened with the frosts of years (he was as bald as a door knob, but " frosts of years " sounds well) he had tlie assurance of great wealth. Originally his family 100 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ::| consisted of two sons and one daughter, but the sons, like good little boys in Sunday school books, refused to remain in this wicked world. The daughter tarried long enough to get married and present Hugh to the admiring gaze of his grandfather, but not even the possibilities of a residence in Sheeptown could detain her upon this sublunary sphere. A lonesome life Hugh had during his boyhood. Hip father, after a term of decorous mourning, married again, this time a Southern lady, and went South, where he remained till he died, a comparatively short period. Fortunately for Hugh, his mother's cousin, Mrs. Brooke, a sweet, motherly woman, was able to assume some care over him, so that he was not entirely alone. Having no parents, no brothers or sisters, forming no companionships with those of his own age, he was thrown almost entirely upon his own resources ; hence when but a lad he was grave and sober as a man of mature years. His grand- father, being quite content with Goatville and Sheep- town, had no desire to leave a world in which he was so deeply interested for one in which he had no in- terest whatever ; therefore he remained with Hugh just as long as it was possible. In due time Hugh went to college, this being his grandfather's special desire. At college he was not enough of a grind to call for special notice from the faculty, nor was he enough of a sport to arouse en- thusiasm among the athletes. He was a good, fair student, and that was all. During his senior year he became acquainted with John Disney, whose matter- of-fact philosophy and genial cynicism quickened him HUGH DUNBAR HAS A REVELATION. m his not the en- fair he bter- Ihim occasionally to the extent of a smile. When he an- nounced his intention of becoming a clergyman no one was surprised, though it was generally assumed that one so wealthy as he was would become the popular pastor of some chapel-at-ease rather than enter upon the duty of a regular parish. But our lives are influenced by the veriest trifles. Just as a pebble on a mountain height may divide a stream, causing a divergence which results in rivers flowing into opposite oceans, so some insignificant thing will affect all of human destiny. Mrs. Brooke, on her daughter Olive's birthday, gave a quiet dinner to a few friends (Mrs. Brooke now lived with Hugh in the Dunbar mansion, for the grandfather had been dead some time), and in the course of the evening there was a pleasant but animated discussion on the general theme of the rela- tions between the poor and the rich. In this discus- sion Hugh Dunbar was nmch interested, speaking as well as listening. " I don't quite see where rich people, as we call them, have any special duties to poor people, or any particular responsibilities in the case," young Mr. Brentwood said, in a loud, assertive sort of way, at the same moment helping himself to a peach, which peach, at that particular season, cost more than the whole din- ner of some of his father's workmen, for his father had a large interest in two or three of the big iron mills at Pittsburg. " They are paid their wages — many of them well paid — and they should look out for themselves," was his next renmrk, as he went on peeling the peach. 108 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. " So long as the machine does its work it has a right to the oil for its bearings or the belting for its pulleys, is then your theory ? " put in Fergus Finlay, a member of the same class in college with Hugh but who now dabbled a little in electrical engineering, which explains his figure of speech. " Yes, practically so," Brentwood replied. " Then how about repairs ? How about the time when the machine is worn out, when instead of being a producer it is nothing but old iron ? " " Why not have recourse to the smelting pot ? " suggested Tom Scranton, a bright, wide-awake young fellow, who already was something of an expert in mining matters, and who was supposed, with good reason too, to be considerably interested in some of Mark Brompton's schemes. The talk soon drifted into other channels, and the little wordy boats, after the manner of the paper playthings of our childhood, sailed about, bobbing and colliding very delightfully, though sometimes very nonsensically. But what would you? This gray old world of ours would be a dull place without the light hearts and the merry voices of young people. These ancient towers in all the mystery of the de- parted centuries need the fresh, green ivy to relieve them of their gauntness, while in the ivy young birds chatter and chirrup and even swoop and circle over the very churchyard. In this company was a Mr. Bramwell, a distant relative of Hugh Dunbar, who, after the more formal guests had gone, remained, going up to Hugh's den for a long, confidential chat. i HUGH DUNBAR HAS A REVELATION. 103 tant •mal den t\ "You noticed," Bramwell said, once they were fairly under way, "how easily Finlay disposed of Brentwood in the talk down stairs ? " Hugh nodded. " And yet from his standpoint Brentwood is per- fectly right." Again Hugh nodded, but this time the nod was not BO much in assent as in token of attention. " I see you don't fully subscribe to this, and yet on the principle that * business is business ' Brentwood could take no other position." " You think, then, that when a man has paid his workmen their wages they have no further claim on him ? " Hugh asked this question with a good deal of surprise, for he knew something of Bramwell and the opinions which he held. "It altogether depends upon what you call a * claim ' and the reasons with which it may be urged." " A claim is something to which one has an un- doubted right, and the grounds for that claim are common justice." "Then Brentwood was right, for when you pay Smithers or Hobbes or anyone else *a fair day's wages for a fair day's work ' you have done all that * right' is entitled to and all that * common justice' can honestly demand." " Then why all this strife, this terrible suffering, this fearful burden of poverty and wrong ? " " For the simple reason that there are higher obli- gations than those of mere business, and it is the failure on our part to realize these obligations which causes the trouble." 104 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. I ,1^ iii ■ " What do you mean ? " " Just this : business knows nothing of the law of kindness. It is an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth — so much for so much. The man is put in the scale and weighed against weights of iron. So much skill, so much strength, so much labor, so much wages. When his eye dims, his strength weakens, his skill declines, then the beam goes against him. Now that is business pure and simple. It matters nothing that for thirty years that man has given the best of his life to the firm in which he has been employed. Out he must go. The firm must have younger men, fresher blood, greater skill. This, my dear Dunbar, is what the world calls business, and most of the great enterprises of to-day are conducted on this principle." " Then what becomes of the man who has been unable to provide against this day of misfortune?" " Ah I now you are coming to Finlay's putting of it : when the machine needs repairs, or perhaps is too far gone for repairs. What a pity that we cannot work out Scranton's idea, and when people are worn and useless put them in the smelt pot and have them made over again I " " There is something wrong, but just what I don't know," said Hugh, in a baffled, helpless way, for he could not quite understand Mr. Bramwell's statement of the case. " Wrong ! " exclaimed Mr. Bramwell, and speaking with much feeling, " wrong is too paltry a word ; say ' sin,' * shame,'' * crime.' " ! ' ! Then neither of them spoke for a few minutes, HUGH DUNBAR HAS A REVELATION. m :. each busy with his own thoughts, and yet each wait- ing for the other to resume the conversation. " If, instead of discussing this theme as a matter of business, we take it up as a question of divine obliga- tion and common humanity, we shall then reach the plane where it properly belongs," Mr. Bramwell said, breaking the silence before it had become embarrass- ing. " Then your remedy is — " " No ! my remedy is not," interrupted Mr. Bram- well. " I have no remedy. No man has a remedy. This whole matter must be worked out upon lines and principles altogether different from those now in operation. But I want you to do as I have done — see these things for yourself. Go over among the poor of the East Side. You are a property owner in the lower parts of this city. See some of your own tenants. It may be that you indirectly are respon- sible for some of this misery." Barnwell had no wish to hurt Mr. Dunbar ; quite the opposite ; but he had a way of telling the truth in the plainest of terms, a way, though, which cost him many of his best friends, and a way which often- times is very foolish. Hugh, however, was too much in earnest to be offended easily ; still he offered such a defense as came to him. " Yes, I know all about the saloon, and agree with what you have said; your remarks concerning the waste and foolishness of our working people I also accept, but when all is said it yet remains that there are hundreds, thousands even, who cannot get bread m DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. enough to keep them alive, who cannot find employ- ment by which to earn bread, and who are positively starving." " But haven't we bureaus of charity and many other such organizations for the relief of these very people 2" answered Dunbar, and with considerable warmth, for the thought of men and women suffering actual hun- ger in his own city touched him deeply. " My dear Ilugli, the real poor hide their poverty as one would a family skeleton. Charity officers never ^ find tliem out. Perfunctory visitations are utterly valueless in their case. The terriMy poor are those who will die of hunger, and rather than tell their poverty will carry their secret to the grave." " Then, God helping me, I will share my life with them," Dunbar exclaimed. " I may not be able to build a cathedral or found a library, but I can do something for my poor brothers and sisters." They talked on for some time longer, and when the conversation ended Hugh Dunbar had his plans well in hand. Thus it came to pass that on that eventful Sunday morning he was in the East Side church to receive the greetings of Sister Nora. § ■ ,'«* iday jeive A TORTOISE AND HIS SHELL. 107 ! CHAPTER XIV. A Tortoise and His Shell. IN his home Dr. Disney was the same gracious, courteous gentleman as everywhere else, a fact which must be borne in mind when liis case goes to the jury. This circumstance in itself will entitle liim to much consideration, particularly if the jury is worthy and conscientious. For this is by no means a common rule with men, nor with women either, sad as it is to make the confession. Most of us at home are very different persons from what we are in society. In society we smile and bow; we make pretty speeches ; we are gracious even to those we cordially detest; we are nothing if we are not polite; but in the quiet of our homes we are . Bless- ings on the man who invented pauses I How much one can say at times and t not speak a word I But at home Dr. Disney was, if anything, even more gracious than when engaged in professional service, for with the charming suavity of his general bearing there was a refined humor which made him a delightful presence. " Madge," he said, some days after the evening of Hugh Dunbar's visit, as they were at breakfast, " John's friend seems to be a bright, pleasant sort of a fellow ; a little odd in his notions, perhaps, but then young clergymen are all the more popular on that account." / ./ lOd DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. There was no particular reason why Madge should flush just a little and for a inomont or two seem cmoarrassed. J*oor Madge had not (luito recovered from the Coney Island incident and her treatnient of a certain East Side clergyman. "You mean Dunbar?" asked John, dividing his attention between the question and a huge straw- berry whicli he was balancing on his fork prepara- tory to a more perfect study of its inward parts. " Yes, I mean Dunbar," answered the doctor, a mild twinkle in his eye, for he had noticed the ac- cession of color to Madge's face. *' His notions are peculiar, but then " — deftly drop- ping a slice of lemon into her cup of iced tea, and speaking in her usual easy waj', Madge went on — " he will probably outgrow most of them. When he is as old as Dr. Bland he may be just as sensible." There was no nec.'d for Madge to drop any of the sliced lemon into her voice, but she did nevertheless. Still that is a way we have. When we do a person one wrong we are wont to follow it up with another. Dr. Disney said nothing in reply ; John found his Btrawberiy all that he had hoped ; Madge, therefore, was in possession of the field. "John," she said, a moment later, " I met the * un- earned increment ' yesterday afternoon." " The what ? " asked John, glancing quickly at his sister, meantime harpooning another strawberry of goodly proportions and contemplating it with much satisfaction. "The * unearned increment,' the monopoly man, the champion of the downtrodden." A TORTOISE AND HIS SHELL 109 " You aro beyond me, Madge," responded Jolin ; " it may be the hot weather, or intelleetual feeble- ness, or a uiind unacciistouiud to your dizzy heights, but 80 fur I eannot quite grasfp your nieaiiing." " Have you already forgotten the *cvaKionof re- sponsibility,' the ' trampled sacred rights,' the — " " O, you mean Yaughen ! " laughed John. " You remember him ? " turning to Dr. Disney — " a eollego friend of mine, who spent part of the vacation last year with us at Newport. Ah, Madge ! and is this how you repay that earnest and devoted youth for his efforts to reach your misguided and untutored mind?" "I was on Broadway yesterday afternoon, at Lin- sey & Woolsey's, doing some shopping, and on com- ing out of the store, at the very door ahnost, there was the * unearned increment.' " " He saw you ? " " Certainly he saw me, and we chatted for quite a few minutes." " "Well I I wonder what he is doing in New York at this time ? I understood that he would remain in Eastwich at least through the vacation." " Yes, that was his intention, for ho spoke of it yesterday, but it seems his uncle wrote for him to come on at once, as he had found a business opening for him," Madge replied, with just the faintest tinge of satisfaction in the consciousness of knowing some- thing which John might fairly be expected to know, but for some reason didn't. " I wasn't aware that he had an uncle in the city," John rather sadly admitted. " Vaughen never said ,/ no DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. anything about his people. lie rarely even spoke of his mother, and, of course, I didn't ask him." "You dear innocent I Only think of your being all those years with the * unearned increment ' with- out knowing that ho not only had relatives in New York, but that his mother's brother was Mark Ih'ompton." "Mark Brompton I Our Mark Brompton?" Dr. Disney said, quite interestedly. "Yes, our JMark Brompton, and the * unearned increment' is the nephew of the stately Mrs. Bromp- ton, and cousin of her almost equally stately daugh- ters," Madge returned, complacently sipping her iced tea, now that she had contributed so largely to the general information. " What is the business opening you referred to ? Did Vaughcn say what it was ? " John asked. " lie said he was with Keen & Sharp, brokers or bankers, or something else I don't remember, away downtown." " With Keen & Sharp? " Dr. Disney repeated, and with an anxious tone. " Yes ; do you know them ? " asked Madge, who could not quite understand the anxiety in her father's voice. " Slightly," said Dr. Disney, but, evidently de- sirous that the conversation should take another turn, said: "John, your friend Vaughen seems to have got the start of you in this matter of * earning your bread,' as you sometimes say." " Yery true, sir, but I think there was more of an p « e*^. A TORTOISE AND HIS SHELL. Ill '8 I !>■ t in linmediato necessity in his case than mine. Though I never asked him concerning personal matters, still I knew ho was anxious to get started as soon as pos- sihle." ** Yet there is a decided necessity in your case," answered the doctor, who was moro dinturbed thafi lie cared to say over John's hesitation to enter the medical profession. *' If one means to do anything with himself, ho must begin early. The man who has not started on the ladder when he is twenty-five or six years of age stands a poor chance of doing much climbing." " Something depends on the ladder," said John. " No, the ladder is much the same, whatever the building may be." " But suppose one has no wish to climb. Besides, there are far more on ladders now than will ever reach the top. Better for a man to be on the ground, where the walking is good, than on a ladder just high enough to get an ugly fall, but not able to reach the top." "The question is, shall a man's life be a ladder upon which he may ascend, or mere flooring for other men to walk over ? " interposed Madge, nor without intent, as she had a vivid remembrance of her con- versation with John ^vhen this very matter was dis- cussed. "And yet the flooring of this house is fully as im- portant as its roof. A house without floors would be more picturesque than useful," John said, also re- membering the conversation which Madge undoubt- edly had in her mind. ^ 112 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. " Yes, but coarse, common timbers will answer for the flooring. Flooring can be carpeted, rugged, matted; it can be covered up in a dozen ways, whereas the roof occupies the place of honor 'twixt earth and sky, able to throw back the sun, keep out the rain, bear up under the snow, and, therefore, is far more valuable an * ■1 t < t./ il H 128 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. mur of the sea, with the sweet winds tempered by the trees blowing gently upon you, wondering if, after all, this is not the original paradise, all at once you will see one of these stakes, and in wondering how it ever came to be there you will have much food for reflection." The waiter having emerged from retirement with a tray of ample proportions, upon which platters and dishes were carefully arranged, conversation was suspended for the time being. The process of think- ing, however, went on. John's thoughts : " Dunbar talks well ; talks much better than he preaches. "Wonder why clergymen are so dull in the pulpit. What stupid things sermons are ! " Mrs. Disney's thoughts : " A pleasant^ well-spoken young man, but rather light and frivolous for a clergyman. I wonder why clergymen cannot be as serious in their conversation as when they are in the pulpit." Dr. Disney's thoughts : " Bright fellow. He may have all sorts of notions, but he is shrewd withal. I wonder why clergymen, as a rule, have so little common sense." Madge's thoughts — Some thoughts there are which, like the burning bush in the desert, are not to be approached without reverence. At this particular time Madge was doing some very serious thinking, nor was it concerning clergymen or sermons ; it related to Dunbar him- self. "We will not, therefore, intrude. " "What a glorious night ! '' said John, as he and A SOCIAL SCIENCE CONGRESS. mpered by odering if, all at once wondering lave much ment with jh platters 'sation was 3 of think- T than he 30 dull in re ! » but rather )nder why iversation f notions, ergymen, burning I without ^as doing ncerning ar him- he and u 4 \29 after- Madge took, on the promenade deck, "an dinner spin," to use an ocean steamer phrase. There was nothing of cloud or fog. The sky was wondroufely clear, such as it is sometimes in June, when no haze or shadow rests upon the deep, infinite blue, and the heavens reach back to distances which are eternal. The stars were coming out, though timidly, for the moon was just attaining its zenith ; and in that full, rich light the briglit^st stars almost lose themselves. As the night wore on, the moon, catching the glories of a hidden sun, cast them upon the sea in great sheets of silver, while the shores and distant hills served as polished reflectors, adding to the beauty and splendor of the scene. After the promenade had disposed of itself, and our friends were seated in about the same place as in the early evening, Madge asked Mr. Dunbar how long he intended to remain at Martha's Vineyard. " I hardly know," he answered ; " a few days, pos- sibly a week." " That is a short vacation." " But this is not a vacation." " If I may ask, what is it then ? " " I am going to attend a Social Science Congress." " What is a Social Science Congress? '' " I don't know." " Does anyone know ? " I think not. Has it an object ? j> " It has." " What is it ? " " I don't know." fi' r- I ^ !K ! \i-\ ;i , I 130 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. " Does anyone know ? " " I tliiik not." " It must be sonietliinf^ of excessive and absorbing interest," John remarked. " The amount of your information concerning a Social Science Congress is only equaled by your facility in communicating it." " Some men arc born to wisdom, some men achieve wisdom, while some men have wisdom thrust upon them. In order that you may enter at least one of these classes, I am going to insist upon you attend- ing this Social Science Congress," Dunbar replied. " In that case I will look up the ' forms of prayer to be used at sea,' for the unfortunate creatures who com})ose such gatherings are usually very much * at sea,' " John piously remarked. Mrs. Disney complained of the roundabout way involved in this journey, for it was not until the forenoon of the next day that they reached their destination. Even Dr. Disney was less patient than usual, and two or three times, when the party had to change from boat to train, then from train to boat, he said very plainly that better arrangements were easily possible. John, however, reminded him that railroads and boat comDanies were not intended to promote the public comfort, but were institutions whose sole purpose was to make money. " My honored father, the secret of all this consoli- dation business, this buying up of rivals and com- petitors, is simply dividends — Dividends with a big D — more Dividends — larger Dividends." " But there is less expense in management." A SOCIAL SCIENCE CONGRESS. 131 bsorbing of youi' igress is iiiicating achieve ist upon )t one of I attend- ' replied, f prayer ires who aucli * at out way til the d their 3nt than had to boat, s were lim that ided to itutions CO 11 soli- id com- 1 a big " Still the fares are not reduced." " There is less waste in the number of trains and boats which are run." " Consequently less accommodation to the public." " The system generally ie better." " The service generally is worse." " My son, you are becoming a rank socialist." " My father, you are becoming a rank capitalist." "Oak Bluffs Landing!" called out a voice, in which the fog-horn cadence blended with the sharp strains of the piccolo, hence it was heard from one end of the boat to the other. Then the usual scramble — the gathering up of bags, bundles, banjoes, bird cages, babies ; tlie usual rush for the gangway, the people crowding upon one another in the most foolish way ; the usual waiting company on the wharf, who stand in lines, compel- ling the passengers to run a sort of Indian gauntlet ; the usual trouble of settling down into rooms not much larger than a good-sized trunk, and the usual lamentations over the supreme folly of leaving home with its comforts and conveniences. But the Go- thamite who fails to join the great company of the vacationists, cost what it may in personal discomfort, is such a rarity that a good, healthy specimen, as a " freak," would be a startling attraction. The Social Science Congress was a great success. Some score or so, mostly dear old men who were too feeble for outdoor amusement, attended regu- larly, falling asleep with commendable promptness almost as soon as the sessions opened. A few severe, rather repellent-looking females were also very con- f ( ; 132 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. stant in their attendance, coming in with that stem, defiant air which reminds one of Alexander gazing angrily around for more worlds to dispose of. One distinguished brother presented a paper on "Matter: a Spirit Evolution," going back in his re- searches ten thousand billion years. John Disney could not quite see the bearing of this paper, nor how it related to the questions of to- day; but in making this remark to Hugh Dunbar he was unfortunate in raising his voice just above a whisper, whereupon one of the repellent-looking fe- males gave him a look, of which, speaking to Madge, and quoting a line of a hymn, he said, " Deep horror then my vitals froze.'* Another equally distinguished brother read an elaborate treatise on " The Drainage and Seweracre of the Antediluvians," in which he proved that Noah's flood was a scientific necessity, flushing the earth's arterial system, which for centuries had been neglected. The chairman declared that this was a most timely paper, and would mark a new era in the de- velopment of the world. "Timely it certainly was," John said, "nearly ninety minutes." This time a female not quite so sternly defiant as the one who had favored him with a glare turned around, but there was such a sad look in John's eye and such a weary, hopeless expression on his face that the defiant female gave him a glance which was al- most sympathetic. "Capital and Labor in the Days of the Great A SOCIAL SCIENCE CONGRESS. 133 hat stern, er gazing paper on in his re- earing of ons of to- i Dnnbar t above a oking fc- Madge, ep horror read an Sewerage )ved that hing the lad been a most n the de- " nearly mt as the 1 around, eye and ace that was al- le Great Iwameses" gave a little man in spectacles the oppor- tunity of his life. "Simply tlirilling," John de- clared when he got home ; " wouldn't have missed it for anything." " Tenement Life in Arabia Petrsea" was carefully discussed by a tall, benevolent-looking old gentle- man, who illustrated his paper with maps and charts of all conditions and colors. " Dunbar," said John, when the fiunily had gath- ered on the piazza of the cottage whicli Dr. Disney had taken for tlie season — a cottage which stood on a little bluff in full view of Vineyard Sound — and the Social Science Congress was being discussed, " for now some years I have been your friend. I have al- lowed you to carry my bag, to pay my bills- -in short, to make yourself generally useful. Every honorable demand of friendship I have met, even to borrowing of your superfluous lucre — loans which remain stead- fast to this day. But rather than again endure such agonies as those of this afternoon I would willingly give you up to the enemies of your country, that you might die an heroic death." " You excite my curiosity," said Dr. Disney ; " tell us of the Congress." " I am profoundly thankful that enough of me is left to excite anything," John replied, looking out dreamily upon the sea, where the evening shadows were now gathering. " Such humility in your case is so novel that I fear for the reaction," the doctor gravely but slyly re- marked. " My only hope of ever getting back to myself is f ! 134 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ,f ! ! .■; ■ i ^ in ' i *■ on the principle that action and reaction are equal," said John, still watching the shadows reaching out of the sky like dusky arms, gathering the tired earth within their embrace. " To get away from oneself, far, far away, is a decided improvement in some cases," suggested Madge. " Autobiography, my dear sister, is always inter- esting. Pray go on." Madge was about to reply, when Mr. Dunbar said: " So far as any discussion of present-day themes, the Congress was an utter failure." " What did you expect? " asked Dr. Disney. " Some suggestions bearing upon life in our grf»at cities — plans for tenements; hints along social lines generally." "Then you are dissatisfied with things as they now are ? " " Most assuredly." " Upon what do you base your conclusions ? " The doctor was becoming interested. Madge had been all along. John was yet sea-gazing, but listen- ing intently. Mrs. Disney gathered up an occasional word, as a bird does a crumb, flying off with it to her nest. " Partly upon general admission ; then upon some little reading ; but mostly upon personal investiga- tion," Mr. Dunbar answered. "Having diagnosed the case, can you locate the trouble ? " "To some extent, yes." A SOCIAL SCIENCE CONGRESS. 135 e equal," jhing out red earth way, is a suggested lys inter- Dunbar ^ themes, ley. [)ur great cial hues ) as they IS?" adge had ut listen- )ccasional ^ith it to Don some nvestiga- )cate the " In what part of the body politic do you find it?" " In the region of the licart." " Then it is dangerous ? " " I think so — very dangerous." " Have you thought of the remedy ? " " An entire readjustment of things." " Is that possible ? " asked John. " Yes, easily so." " You have no reference to communities or brotherhoods ? " was John's next question. " None whatever. Such things are the veriest dreams without the least shadow of foundation." " Then this readjustment does not relate to a gen- eral distribution of property ? " questioned the doctor. " Not at all. There are lines running through society which no scheme of Utopian communism can affect. All movements of that kind are not only senseless, but dangerous, and should be dealt with unsparingly." Upon hearing this, Mrs. Disney, who so far had taken no part in the conversation, said : " Then you are not a socialist, Mr. Dunbar ? " "If I only knew just what a socialist is I should be the proud possessor of the secret of this century," Mr. Dunbar answered. " Perhaps we are all socialists without being aware of it." '*But if I understand you," Dr. Disney rather abruptly remarked, "certain charges are made by the poor of New York against the rich, which charges you accept as true." " That is a fair statement of the case.'' ^fl I'l 'I I ill Hi! I 11! I if I 136 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. " Would you kindly put those charges in some definite form ? " There was the faintest suggcbtion of acerbity in Dr. Disney's voice. " Indilferencc, intolerance, neglect," Mr. Dunbar answered, calmly, but with evident conviction. "You mean, then, that New York docs nothing for its working people. I am connected with some of the hospitals ; I am a director in a half dozen insti- tutions, and have reason to know that our city is most generous." This was said with considerable emphasis. " But, Dr. Disney, this is not a question of charity or hospital service. There are scores of thousands in our city to whom charity as such would be degrading, and who, fortunately, have no need of hospital care, but who have claims, nevertheless, which are completely ignored." " Kindly be more explicit," the doctor said. " Then what are we doing for the tradesmen, the mechanics, the great masses of our sturdy working people, who have really made the city ? What are we doing for the industrious, hard-working women, who in their way are just as useful as the men ? What are we doing for the children and young peopie, so as to fit them for the duties of the after years ? There are half a million of people in New York to whom the proper kind of help should be given, but who receive no help whatever, not even from those whom they enrich by their toil." " We give them parks," answered John, " Not even parks, for what with driveways, bridle paths, police regulations, a profusion of notices to aem "^ A SOCIAL SCIENCE CONGRESS. 137 in 8omo uggestioii '. Dunbar :>n. nothing Itli soino zen insti- ir city is isiderublc istion of cores of cli would ► need of crtlicless, d. men, the working That are women, e men ? young le after in I^ew ould be ot even 3, bridle tices to i ' keep off the grass,' most of our parks are not of nnicli value to the common people." " Museums and picture galleries," put in John, not, however, by way of opposition, for at heart his sympathies were with Dunbar. " But how many of them, and under what con- ditions? We are far ri'^her than Paris, but in this regard Paris is away beyond us. Proportionately we arc as rich as London, but so far as these things are concerned London is infinitely in advance." " Heading rooms, free libraries, halls for whole- some recreation," suggested John, who had now turned from watching the shadows on the sea to note the perplexed look on the doctor's face. " One or two citizens have generously made pro- vision in the ways you name," Mr. Dunbar said, ad- dressing himself to John, *' but these are only a drop ii' the bucket." " Schools," was John's further response. *' Not school accommodation for much more than a good half of the children, while many of our school buildings are most miserable affairs." " Churches," was John's final word. " No, not even churches. The poor people have to build their own churches. In London the poor- est man in the city is welcome in St. Paul's or West- minster Abbey. I have attended services in St. Paul's specially arranged for workingmen, and have seen thousands of them there. In Paris the com- monest street laborer is free to attend the Madeleine or Notre Dame. In Rome the peasant worships with the prince in St. Peter's ; but it is not so in 138 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. New York. Wo bavo set tho people off by tbem- Helves. Reb'gion bas lost its democracy. One of these days — I hope before it is too late — we will find out our terrible mistake." A certain lightening in the sky indicated that the moon would soon come up out of the sea, where- upon Mr. Dunbar suggested a favorable place to wit- ness he moon rise. Neither Mrs. Disney nor the doctor cared just then to leave the piazza, which they found very comfortable ; John pleaded social science exhaustion ; Madge and Mr. Dunbar liad, therefore, the moon-gazing all to themselves. Such, however, is the resourcefulness of human nature that our young friends bore up under their disap- pointment with a resignation that was simply beau- tiful. i ic i ^. by them- One of —wo will '''^M id that the ;ea, where- ace to wit- ly nor the :za, which ded social nbar liad, Bs. Such, m nature leir disap- iply beau- BOOK II.-PRIDE H^^^^^^^B* r IT '! M 1 ' ■| r 1 1 ' 1 M ' 1 ■ i i i! Q^^^^^B^ II 1 i I* i ■ j I^HuH : I^^^^^^^^^^H i I' i 1 1 F '1 j i i , H[^Lt ^ii THE PROPERTY OF SCARBORO PUBLtC LIBRARY. THE BROMPTON HOUSEHOLD. 141 CHAPTER XYIL The Brompton Household. yy M RS. MARK BROMPTOK possessed in no I y I ordinary measure the qaality of stateliness. ^ J[ In feature she was not beautiful, in disposi- tion she was not charitable, in character she was not intellectual ; but in everything she was stately, and what more can be reasonably expected of any one person ? The old and familiar legend of a certain nobleman who generously distributed his wealth be- fore setting out on a long journey recalls the fact that to each servant was given just one pound, and for that pound he would be held responsible. N"ow, Mrs. Brompton 's pound was a high consciousness of her own merits — a consciousness which never deserted her, and from which she derived much personal satis- faction. Hence in her way she had a goodly propor- tion of inward peace, for she was on the best of tenns with herself. To sit down complacently and smile in the face of a frowning world is only possible to those who are in cordial relations with themselves. No man can bo really happy unless he can take him- self by the hand, give that hand a good, hearty grasp, invite himself to an easy chair, make himself perfectly at home, and prove to himself that he himself is one of the best fellows in the world. No woman can be at all happy unless she can look gratefully into her own eyes, smile sweetly at her own lif s, t ilk freely 142 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ' ii .. tt» 111 ii ! ? M\i Ml il to her own self, and prove to herself that she herself is one of the nicest women anywhere to be found. This Mrs. Broinpton could do, and do it with an ease, an assurance, a full-rounded completeness, which left nothing to be desired. Wc have said that she was not intellectual, but she was well gowned ; that she was not beautiful, but slie was rich ; that she was not charitable, but slio was stately ; and when a woman is stately, rich, and well gowned anything else is not of much conse- quence. Her do a^^hters, Ethel and Janet, in many particu- lars had followed her noble example, accepting this world as intended specially for them, which they were to use merely as a means of simple enjoyment. Such a sublime acceptance of " the earth, the sea, and all that in them is " invariably promotes agreeable sensations in the minds of the acceptors, while at the same time it obviates unpleasant discussion concern- ing the imaginary rights of others. Mrs. Brompton and her daughters quietly assumed that this world was made for them, that everything in it was meant to promote their pleasure, and that every other person in the world had no higher duty in life than to serve them, when such service was necessary. The Brompton household was not, therefore, agi- tated over such problems as troubled the mind of Sister !N^ora or Hugh Dunbar. Why should it? Mark Brompton was one of the largest taxpayers in thfc city. The man who pays his taxes meets the full demands of the law. Out of those taxes schools and 154 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ! i > iV > I'.i ¥ I 1 '!> ; !li 1 F . i Bill glow and color, her tired feet ached and burned, and sometimes she could have cried out in weariness and pain. At such times she thought of her mother working patiently at home, and of what this Christ- mas money would mean to her. Then a new light would flash into her drooping eyes, her weary limbs would take on fresh life, the spirit of a woman would enter the body of the child, and with renewed cour- age she went on. Often she found herself wondering as to the peo- ple who came in and went out, most of whom had for her only an impatient glance or an angry w^ord, all because she had feet instead of wings, and had to take her turn at the wrapping counter with the otlnrs. Often a whole day would pass without a pleasant word being spoken to her, except by the clerks at whose counters she served. Christmas shoppers may not intend to be brutal, but they are often thoughtless, and it is at the line where " one doesn't think " that brutality begins. Oberta shed a great many heart tears during these weary days, but she never complained at home. Once in a while questions came to her which caused her trouble. As, for instance, when she saw fathers buying all kinds of presents for their children she wondered why she had no father to buy presents for her. Or when she saw mothers who had money in abundance she won- dered why at that moment her mother should be sewing the commonest garments in order to have money to buy bread. Or when she looked on such an immense variety of toys — skates, drums, rocking horses, boats, bats, balls, everything that a boy could ii.;t THE FIRM OF LINSEY & WOOLSEY. 155 limed, and iriness and er mother his Christ- new light eary limbs nan would )wed coar- ;o the peo- vhom had gry word, md had to with the without a pt by the Christmas they are lere " one rta shed a days, but . a while ible. As, all kinds why she when she she won- hould be to have i on such I, rocking >oy could ask for — she wondered why Fred could not have some of them. One day a man, apparently of the superior type of \vorkman, came in accompanied by a sad-faced woman dressed in mourning. He looked at Oberta for a moment or two, and tiien whispored something to the woman. She turned to Oberta, who was at the next counter, and on seeing her a soft, tender mist came over her eyes and a quiver upon her lips. Poor thing ! Only a few weeks before their little girl of about the same age as Oberta, and whom Oberta ctrongly resembled, had been taken from them, and their home was now desolate. "VVatciiing his opportunity, the man slipped a piece of paper into Oberta's hand, whispering at the same moment, " God bless you, little one ! " Before Oberta recovered from her surprise the man and woman had gone, and when she opened the paper which had been put in her hand she found it was a two-dollar bill. That night she and Fred held a long council, and for the first time in their lives had a secret which their mother did not share. But on Christmas morning, when Mrs. Sauvier went to the little kitchen to prepare the breakfast, there on the table was a nice little shoulder shawl, done up with a pair of warm felt slippers, marked, " To our darling mamma, from Oberta and Fred." The dear woman had barely read the writing on the paper (it was Fred's writing, and not very clear) when two pairs of arms were around her neck, two bright, glad faces were looking happily into hers, and two joyous voices were wishing her a merry Christmas. t 156 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. :• 'J t 1 ! in h ill t! » But Mrs. Sanvier was not the only one who was surprised that morning, for when Fred sat down to breakfast he kicked something under ilie table which rattled in a strange way. In an instant the queer- looking parcel was opened, revealing a pair of skates, which he proceeded to try on before he had eaten a morsel. Gherta's chair was pushed in under the table as far rs it would go, and when she drew it out there was just the little hand muff which she had been secretly wishing for ever since the holiday sea- son began. So there was more hugging and more kissing, and though the breakfast was very simple, yet it was a glad Christmas for them all. The faithful little cash girl had not escaped the notice of the " floorwalker " in whose department she had served, so it was not long before a letter came addressed, " Miss Sauvier, 329 — th Street, City," which she opened with a feeling of awe, for it was the first letter she had ever received. It proved to be a request to call at the store of Linsey & Woolsey at nine o'clock on the following moniing. At the hour named she was there, and to her great joy was engaged for regular work. From cash girl she was promoted in usual order, so that now, at the time suggested by our story, she is in " cloaks and wraps," on the third floor, and is regarded by the firm as a most painstaking and reliable sales- woman. It was fortunate for Oberta that at the beginning of her working life she found an opening in the house of Linsey & Woolsey, for this firm was not only honorable in its dealings with the general pub- THE FIRM OF LINSEY & WOOLSEY. 157 e who was at down to table wliich the queer- ir of skates, lad eateu a under the irew it out ih she had ioHday sea- and more 3iy simple, scaped the lepartment re a letter th Street, awe, for it t proved insey & moiiiing. ler great cash girl ; now, at " cloaks egarded Aq sales- egmning in the was not 3ral pub- lic, but maintained the same high standard with all who were in its service. Both of the partners were humane, considerate, careful of the interest of their employees, and exer- cised over them the most healthful influence. They were strict men, insisting upon the rules of the estab- lishment, and demanded a recognition of their rights as employers, but they were also just men, recogniz- ing with the utmost impartiality the rights of others. Hence they allowed no miserable system of " fines," by which a clerk will be robbed of the wages which are supposed to be paid. Kor would they permit any peremptory dismiir^sal for mistakes — mistakes which in nine cases out of ten are caused by the care- lessness or stupidity of the customers themselves. Under no circumstances would they tolerate the , " premium " business, neither would they give a re- ward for working oil upon unsuspecting customers goods which were either unsalable or n(;t what they were represented to be. Their clerks were not paid for lying or promoted for conniving at fraud. Both honor and honesty had place in every department of the store. Men and women could have a conscience and yet not lose their situations. To make sales it was not necessary to lie and deceive. Most sternly Linsey & Woolsey refused to enter into that horrible strife which meant starvation to needlewomen and seamstresses. Such garments as were put upon their counters were not made by women who worked fifteen or sixteen hours every day, and even then not earning enough to keep away actual hunger ! [ i ij^ r || ni I 8! 158 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. " Are such things possible in New York ? " some one once asked Sister Nora. " Possible ! " she answered, lier eyes blazing with indignation. " Possible I Go over unto some of the side streets ; look out of tlie elevated trains even ; see the crowded workrooms where men and women are huddled ; look at tlie weary, despairing faces ; listen to the ceaseless hum of the sewing machines over which women are bending with aching backs, straining eyes, burning foreheads, "-id hopeless hearts. O, it is terrible ! And if you only knew the pitiful wages which these poor creatures receive, your soul would burn with holy shame, as mine does every time I think of it." But Linsey & "Woolsey had no part in this gross abomination. No typhoid-laden, death-containing, hunger-stricken bundles came to their "receiving entrance." No woman left their store with a " bar- gain" in which the germs of a fatal disease were mysteriously folded, hiding the ghastly outlines of sickness and death. The result of all tliis was that the store of Linsey & Woolsey was never packed and crowded as some other stores are. No lines of frantic, jostling women pushed and elbowed their way to bargain counters and mark-down sales. Tlie people who came here were of that type who expect no more than what they pay for, and who think that the principle of honesty should obtain just as much in the buying of a piece of ribbon or a pocket handkerchief as in the management of a cathedral. On that day when Sister Nora mentionecl the name ?" some ing with n© of the na even ; i women ig faces; machines ig backs, iss hearts, lie pitiful yonr soul very time :his gross mtaining, ireceivincj bar- 1 a (( ;ase were itlines of >f Linsey as some Ig women counters ,me here [lan what iciple of >uying of as in the the name i THE FIRM OF LINSEY & WOOLSEY. 159 of Dr. Disney to Mrs. Sauvier, so strange was tlie effect produced, and with such emphasis did Mrs. Sauvier repeat the name, that it made a very deep impression upon Oberta. Most vividly did she recall that scene, earnestly wondering what it all meant. One day a party of three young ladies came to her department "just to look around," as one of them said, witli pleasant frankness. But, like many others who go into stores " just to look around,'' tliey soon became quite incerested. As they seemed to have some time to spare they went from one rack to an- other, looking, examining, asking questions, and finally proceeded to " try on." It fell to Oberta's lot to wait upon them, which she did in her usual careful and painstaking way. One of these young ladies was cold, curt, abrupt, with a tincture of iron in her voice, and the sug- gestion of early persimmons in her general bear- mg. The second of the party was rather loud-voiced, needlessly frank, generously critical, and while even more imperious than the other one, whom Oberta imagined was her sister, yet she was not so distinctly offensive, and after a time settled down to a fair measure of agreeability. Both of them, however, were careful to give proper emphasis to the one serving and the one served, nor was there in either case tlic sliirhtest recoOTitio]! of any human relationshij). The idea that Oberta might possibly be a woman of like nature with themselves never once occurred to the>n ; so far, therefore, as any feeling of kinship was concerned, she meant no 160 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. |! hi- '■" I H i ::i! I! ^ I ? 1 I > Hi 'JB ^ -mm more to them than tlio padded, armless dummies upon whicli some of the costiiines were displayed. And why should they ? Was not their carriage at the door? Were they not the daughters of Mrs. Mark Brompton ? The third one of the group, as the other two were examining something which specially attracted them, spoke pleasantly to Oberta, and, finding that she re- eponded in the same way, entered into quite a little conversation with her. Ethel and Janet not return- ing for some time, the conversation went on, until in some way the name of Mr. Dunbar was mentioned. " You know Mr. Dunbar ? " said Madge Disney, for it was she, a glad light tilling her face. " He is a very dear friend of onrs. My brother was with him in college. My name is Disney. Dr. Disney is my father." In the hard school in which Oberta had spent most of her life she had learned to control herself under almost every circumstance, but just as a lightning flash breaking out of the black sky in darkest night reveals in that instant a whole expanse of heaven and earth, so in a moment she saw her mother lying on the bed, she heard Sister Nora mention the name of Dr. Disney, and then the mysterious cry of her mother, " The ways of God ! the ways of God ! " And now here was Madge Disney speaking with her, face to face ! " We are ready. Miss Disney, when you are," came like a steel lance from Ethel Brompton, who with her sister had returned from a general tour of inspec- tion, To the firm this was not a very profitable tour. THE FIRM OF LINSEY & WOOLSEY. 161 dummies played, jarriiige at s of Mrs. two were 5ted them, liat slie re- ite a little lot return- n, until in entioned. ^e Disney, " He is a 5 with him sney is my pent most self under lightning est night leaven and r lying on e name of y of her od!" ving with lare," came who with of inspoc- table tour. The visible results were seen in several heaps of tumbled garments and fabrics. They had kept two or three customers waiting while they leisurely called for one pattern after another, making comparisons and asking all manner of questions. As for thank- ing the clerks for their courtesy and bidding them a pleasaiit good morning, such a thing was not sup- posable in their case. Madgu, however, would allow no one to be her su- perior in good manners, going even so far as to shake hands with Oberta and express her pleasure at hav- ing made her acquaintance. That handshaking epi- sode was too much for the Bromptons; Janet was almost rude enough to larMi at this display of Jack- sonian simplicity, while Ethel's thin nose took on an edge which, wedgelike, cleaved the dusty air and cut an open way to her carriage. That evening while Oberta and her mother were enjoying their usual chat Oberta alluded to the visit at the store, gradually leading up to the mention of Miss Disney's name. Mrs. Sauvier listened eagerly, but made no reply. That night she moaned heavily in her sleep. In the morning, when she came to breakfast, her face was drawn and anxious, while deep, heavy lines were under her eyes. 11 ,f JP 'i t ,' I ■■ !, I '•II I'! ' ' i, ' i ■'.!' t 11 ; I 162 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. CIIAPTEK XIX. A. Downtown Boarding Hou^e l'] " 'aiifjjc from tlio Uroinptoii Mansion on l.ftli Avcimo to a downtown boarding house Ava nWy as decided as Edward Vuuglien was prepared for. But 3'outli is hopeful, l)uojant, adjust- able, and as a general thing fairly independent. Though Mrs. Ih-onipton Iiad not said anything, Edward was certain he understood wliat lier wishes were ; lience he determined to make himself as com- fortable as was possible nnder tho circumstances, lie wrote to his mother, going over the whole matter in the most frank and simple way, careful, however, not to blame anyone, but Mrs. Yaughen l.ad no dif- ficulty in discovering just where the trouble was. Her reply convinced Edward that he was not to bla.me for the wordless argument between Mrs. Brompton and himself. " Some quiet hour, my friend,^' John Disney had once said to him, " when you are in a reminiscent mood, and with softly slippered feet move down the aisles of the years, as a noiseless verger in a cathe- dral, two things will give you much satisfaction — the comfort you have derived from following your own advice, and the regret that your friends did not follow the advice you gave them." John went on, with just pause enough to give Edward time to think over his weighty words : ^IK 1 A DOWNTOWN BOARDING HOUSE. 163 ,nsion on iiiT house nrlicn was lit, ad just- lent. anything, or wishes I as com- im stances. qIo matter however, ad no dif- uble was. IS not to een Mrs. [isncy had jniiniscent down the h a cathe- jsfaction — [ving your is did not Ih to give ]rds : M Mi ■•m " Ilcro is a pnblislicr's annonnccment — *Ev -y man his own lawyer,' which really means, ^Fv^-.y man liit own adviser.' That is right. The . ;so man gives advice, but takes none. It is perfectly true that ' in the multitude of counselors there is safety,' for the simple reason that they never agree ; thus the man is free to follow his own judgment." Edward, however, would have attached great weight to his mother's opinio'^, whichever way she had decided. Still he was all ;'io aore satisfied now that she agreed with him. That "third floor, liall b , u. '' of his was not a bad little snuggery, after all. Tiue, it was furnished about as Mark Brompton 1 .1 Jescribed ; in addition, however, it contained an easy chair, or, rather, rocker, "with arms," as he wrote to his mother, from which letter we may quote : "... Yes, with arms, only think of it ! One of the arms is rather shy, and so sensitive that anything like undue familiarity is resented by a collapse, which for the time is serious. The other arm, however, is more accustomed to the ways of mankind, though there is nothing tenderly affectionate in it ; still it permits of a fair measure of attention without serious protest. " The back of this chair, with a spirit which one cannot but respect, covers up the ravages of time with a fretwork of rare handicraft. I regret, though, that it eludes all efforts at investigation, so that "whether it is a * tidy ' of the prehistoric period, or the remains of a Grand Yizier's towel of the time of Aladdin, cannot well be determined. One of the '^v '^: iV I i I m .ii: i * : I t64 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. rockers is eomewliat demonstrative. It has a way of responding with a * click, clack' which, while it docs not take away from the actual comfort of the chair, interferes with that sense of motion which is the peculiar charm of this article of furniture. But it is quite a chair, and as I sit in it smoking my evening pipe I am far from uncomfortable. " My one window commands an extensive view of my neighbors' backyards, with fences and clothes-lines in mathematic order. For utilization of space a back- yard in New York is a study. Hothouses, graperies, flowerbeds, lawns, shrubbery, beautifully laid out, within boundaries of about twenty feet square ! Sometime I must tell you of my neighbors, with whom I have formed an imaginary acquaintance, and in whom my interest steadily grows. " My landlady is not a bad sort ; indeed, she is dis- posed to be kind, at times almost motherly, but her name distresses me — Mrs. Jemima Gubbins. The * Jemima ' I can understand, for it was given by Job to one of his daughters (Jemima Job doesn't sound nice, though we are told the girl w\as), but Gubbins has an origin more mysterious than the sources of the Nile. " Mr. Gubbins so far lias not been presented nor even visible, but, then, he may have a milk route or a market stand, in which case he gets not only the early worm, but the early bird. Miss Gubbins, how- ever, is here — a blushing, gushing damsel of stalwart proportions and marked opulence of flesh. Miss Gubbins has mental limitations of a high order, but as most of her blushing and gushing is done when n\- A DOWNTOWN BOARDING HOUSE. 165 way of it docs chair, 1 is the But it is evening view of hes-lines c a back- raperics, laid out, square I ors, with :ince, and she is dis- but her ns. The by Job sound Gubbins ces of the nted nor : route or , only the )ins, how- If stalwart Ih. Miss |rder, but )ne when I't the grocery clerk is here in the morning taking the orders for tlie day, she is within the pule of forgive- ness. " I have already described Mr. Singleton, so you are fairly acquainted with him. " One of our family is a Mr. Eodncy "Wright, a . gentleman of theatrical proj)ensities, who has written two or three very fair plays which would he quite j successful only that he insists upon playing the star* part himself. To write or not to Wright? " Then, of course, we have our liumorist, the man of antique conundrums, of jokes unrolled from Egyptian mummies, of wit cobwebbed by centuries. The Immorist is grent sjiort, but as Miss Gubbins in- variably laughs at what he says, and we invariably laugh at hlui, all are accommodated. " We have also an artist. lie affects the Bohe- mian, comes down to breakfast in a velveteen jacket, wears loose, low collars d la Byron^ allows his necktie to divide in streamers, with picturesque results. IIo is a good-looking fellow, and so far as I can judge ho is a good fellow, which is of more importance. *' Then we have a newspaper man who is full of all sorts of public gossip, who has the names of nearly all the prominent people at his tongue's end, and who rattles along very pleasantly, lie is about my age. I am going to like him. " I must not forget Miss Pollok, whose course of time has run through at least forty annual editions. The light of hope, however, burns upon the altar of her maiden heart with undiminished ardor, and her eager, yearning eyes but faintly express the desire of 166 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. '1 «' ''i '. fly I her soul. Ilcr Christian name in Felicia; lior occu- pation is that of school-teacher. Slic indulges in love songs and ballads, the ballads usually of the tear- ful order. " 1 have not time just now to write you of our family life, but as th infra come to me I will share them with you. I am beginning to get hold of my work in the office, but, of course, everything is com- paratively new. " I had a letter this morning from John Disney in which he says that Mrs. Disney wishes mo to take dinner with them to-morrow evening. You would like Miss Disney ; she is a bright, nice girl. , . ." Good for you, Edward Yaughen ! Not a whimper in his letters, nor a sign of loneli- ness or homesickness. "Not a grumble at the hard, dull work in the office, nor a complaint at the barren- ness of his life. But did he deceive his mother? His letters were merely an open latticework through which she saw the brave figlit her boy was making. She could not forbear a smile occasionally at his pleasantries. Yet to her these were but tear drops through which Edward flashed arrows of licjht. He often wondered at her replies, for she without advising yet advised, and without restraining yet restrained, showing on her part a tact and delicacy of which only wise mothers are capable. Being yet in the shadow of recent bereavement, the Disneys could not give a regular dinner party, 60 only a few special friends were invited. John was most desirous that Edward Vaughen be included, A DOWNTOWN BOARDING HOUSE. 167 or occu- ulgcs ill tlio tcar- i of our •iU share i of my T is com- 1 Disney le to tako 3U would • • • of loneli- the liard, he barren- tcrs were I she saw could not rics. Yet gh which wondered |et advised, ins: on her be mothers Ireavement, iner party, bed. John le included, fi urging it strongly upon both Mrs. Ditsncy and Alatlgc. "Just tliink of lilm in such a city as tliis witliout a soul to speak to except tlie people in his boarding liousc or the clerks in the oflice." *' He lias the liromptons," said Mrs. Disney. " Be- sides, they are his own people." " In a sense they are his own people, but you see how quietly they have disposed of him." Jolm Hpuko with some heat, for thougli Edward had said nothing about his eviction from the Brompton man- sion, lio understood it ])erfectly. " But how cau we take up a young man wlien his own relatives, who are our friends, will not do it?" " Ilemember, my dear mother, that he was my close, intimate friend for four years, and a sti'aighter, manlier fellow is not in New York. I have no patience with such silly pride as that of the Bromp- tons. A real top-lofty, *come over with the Con- queror' aristocracy I can forgive, but heaven deliver us from shoddy ! " " But, John," put in Madge, '' it is not the Bromptons who trouble us, only how are we going to explain — " "Don't explain," John said, before Madge had fin- ished her sentence; "let things explain themselves. There is no need to say anything whatever. Ed- ward Yaughen is more than Mr. Brun,ptoi'.'s n.-^phew. He can get along without the I .ickground oi Mi-s. Brompton's tiresome, stately ahs. Gracious '. how that woman wearies me, and Elh..d is almost as bad. You mark my words — Edward Yani.^-licn will make his 1 fi 1 i r IbHb III illlj f I SI! 113 ' ^^ ii f-s :'i if j 168 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. way in xTe\y York, and unless I airi very mucli mis- taken tlie Br'^mptons will bo glad to own liiin one of these days." " You and your ' unearned increment' have played the Damon and Pythias act so long that I suppose it nuist continue to the end," Madge suggested with a pleasant smile, for in her heart she sided with J ohn. " I hope so," John answered, heartily. " I know the ' unearned increment,' as you call him. lie is as straight as a gun barrel, as true as steel, as open as the day, and simply incapable of meanness or trickery. Now, when a young, clean, bright fellow such as he is comes to New York, to have peo])le like the Bromptons treat him as tliey have done is enough to provoke a saint." " 1 have heard of St. John, and even read some of his writings," Madge quickly replied, '' but to behold him in the flesh was something for which I never ventured to hope." "It was your eyes which were holden, my dear sister. You can see men as trees walking, but when your own brother by his illustrious example reproves your frivolous life you are not able to recognize his saintly ways." " Is it catching, John ? " " You need huve no fears, Madge." " Have you had it for any length of time ? " *' I was born with it." " Strange I never noticed it before." "It is not in your line, which explains your lack of recognition." A DOWNTOWN BOARDING HOUSE. 169 icli mis- liiiu Olio G played suppose iio:ti;ested led witli ' I know He is as open tmess or it fellow e people J done is I some of o beliold I never my dear )ut when reproves tfiiize liis ""When does it trouble you most?" " AVlien I am reaching down to the level of your comprehension." '^ Wliat are you taking for it ? " "Qualms of conscience with grains of sense — a renicdy which might be of service to you." *' You poor thing, how you must have suffered ! And such a powerful antidote ! " " It would have killed you, !Madge." " Ves, but you see there was no need of my taking it, Jolin." With this Madijje turned to the writing; table to finish the letter upon which she was engaged when John came in to speak of Edward Yaughen. Ill the matter of argument Madge quite frequently had the advantage in her encounters with John, but in this particular instance he secured the desired in- vitation, which to him was the main thinir. A woman is iisuallv content if slie comes off first in a discussion ; a man generally prefers to gain the point wliich is under discussion. A debate, tlierefore, which closes with both parties perfectly satisfied is eminently pleasing, and when properly conducted ministers to the good of all concerned. Madge finished her letter ; John wrote his ; and it was to John's letter Edward referred in his epistle to Mrs. Yaughen. ?" I rour lack ..il •f ^ i » '' fin: i '(!• ;iT :i: l!i f ^^11 1 ij i 170 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. CHAPTER XX. The Marriage Syndicate. THE complications which Mrs. Disney and Madge so clearly foresaw, but which John distinctly refused to see, were not long in presenting themselves. Edward Yaughen had hardly arrived at the Disney home when Mr. and Miss Keen were announced, and on glancing across the room Edward saw the senior partner of the firm with a young lady, whom he suspected was his daughter. He went on chatting with Hugh Dunbar as easily and pleasantly as before the Keens came in, for it never once occurred to him that there was anything embarrassing in the situation. A moment or two later, however, when the Bromptons came, a feeling of discomfort presented itself, for he had not seen any of the T3romptons, ex- cept his Uncle Mark, since he had gone to live down- town. Mr. Brompton greeted him heartily. Mrs. Brompton evidently did not expect to meet him, still she did fairly well. Ethel, taking her cue from her mother, was moderately kind, while Janet was openly friendly. Percy, a youth of the elaborate and gilded order, who had just returned from a yachting cruise, at first was disposed to be con- descending, but behaved better as the evening wore on. Mr. Keen, knowing that Edward was Mark Brompton's nephew, was quite cordial in his greeting, while Miss Keen, having no knowledge of any rela- THE MARRIAGE SYNDICATE. 171 ^•^i ■:n% u\ Madge ■m distinctly resenting irrived at een were I Ed ware ling lady, went on Dleasantly occurred ig in the rer, when presented )tons, ex- ive down- i ly. Mrs. •i leet him, % cue from .'*" "anet "was elaborate d from a be con- ling wore ■/.' as Mark ■''^^■ greeting, "/'■ any rela- tionsliip, accepted him just as he was introduced — " Mr. Yaughen, a college friend of my son." The pairing arrangement Madge worked out most judiciously — Miss Bronipton under the care of Hugh Dunbar, Janet with her brother John, Miss Keen in charge of Percy Brompton, appropriating Edward to herself. The others her mother disposed of. A visiting friend from the South, Mrs. Austin, a quick- witted, nimble-tongued wonum, with snappy black eyes, enabled Mrs. Disney to avoid the dreaded thir- teen and also to give a Joan to each Darby. "To have the pleasure of inviting an lionored friend and then deny tliat friend an acceptance of such invitation," said Dr. Disney, looking at Mr. Keen, shortly after the company had sat down, " is rather an unusual proceeding, but I trust Mrs. Keen will forgive me. Still, professional honor should al- ways take precedence of personal friendship." "Mrs. Keen fully appreciates Mrs. Disney's kind- ness," turning to Mrs. Disney, " and also Dr. Disney's thoughtful courtesy," was Mr. Keen's fairly graceful acknowledii-ment. "You think, then, that a man's public duty is a stronger obligation than his private interests ? " ques- tioned John, who saw that conversation was sagging, as is not unusual at dinner parties. " On general principles I should say yes, though, of course, there are exceptions," the doctor replied? glancing around the table as though he w^ould like the discussion to become general. " It seems to me, though, that many of our most serious embarrassments come from this very matter 10 I ;'r' V 172 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. of * exceptions.' If no exceptions were allowable, the situation would be greatly simplified," said John, who had waited for some other one to take up the case. " But how dull a tiling you would make of life ! " Hugh Dunbar answered ; " everytliing on schedule time like a railroad, each train with a given number of cars, stopping at a given list of stations, the whole business simply a mechanical arrangement." " If your illustration is to apply generally, I most certainly accept Mr. Disney's position," Mr. Keen remarked. " To roll down an embankment, or crush through a bridge, or be run off by a broken rail, may be variations in the monotony of life, but I prefer the common, everyday roadbed." Mr. Keen smiled as he spoke, and enjoyod some- thing of that satisfaction which laymen generally experience when they have a clergyman at a disad- vantage. " Yes, but it is the constant travel over the road that causes these very troubles," Mr. Dunbar an- swered, without a moment's liesitation, much to the delight of Madge, for the laugh which had not quite died away was decidedly against him, neither could she see just how he would escape from the dilemma ; " embankments crumble, bridges weaken, rails wear out, all because of this ceaseless, monotonous going and coming." It v^as now Mr. Dunbar's turn to enjoy something of the satisfaction which Mr. Keen had experienced. "Moa? cime we are sidetracking the real question," baid John, *' which is, How far should the professional m. ^ THE MARRIAGE SYNDICATE. 173 ble, the [ John, up the : life ! " ichedule number e whole I most r. Keen 31' crusli ail, may efer the (i some- enerally a disad- le road 3ar an- te the ot qnite r could emma ; ils wear s going lethini^ CD ienced. 3stion," issional .i\'.''. •t'"'*,'' # control the individual ? Now under the law of the * excluded middle ' a thing nuist either be or not be ; the exceptions suggested by my illustrious father are therefore not adniissille." " Granting that this position is the correct one," said Edward Vaughen, speaking for the first time, " a doctor's first duty is to his patient?" To this there was general assent. "A lawyer's first duty is to his client?" This also was agreed to. " A clergyman's first duty is to his parish ? " This, too, was accepted without question. '' Then an employer's first duty is to his employees ? " was Edward's next question, a question to which there was no immediate reply, but which lay like an unexploded shell with a slowly burning fuse attached — an ugly, dangerous thing, full of unpleasant possi- bilities. " There is this diiference," said Mark Brompton, after allowing the fuse to smoke itself close to the shell : " the parish employs the clergyman, the client employs the lawyer, the pati t employs the phy- sician ; this ' first duty,' theref /e, of which you speak is simply in each case an 1 nest return for a fair equivalent; whereas it is jus die other way with re- gard to employers and enq \ved. Using these same illustrations, we can all see that the first duty of the employee is to the one who employs him." By this time Edward's shell, which had seemed so dangerous, was seen to be only n papier-mache sham, and the fuse had burned itse'f out. " Very true," said Hugh Dunbar, coming to the ^L 174 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ; ( il i M II » ■M relief of Edward Vauglien ; " but just as the parish needs the clergyman, the client the lawyer, the patient the physician, so the master needs the man. The question is more than wages and work ; it is rather one of mutual obligation." Mark Brompton made no reply other than that conveyed by an incredulous smile ; but Mrs. Austin, who had closely followed the discussion, broke in with : " It seems to me that we are forgetting the very plan upon which society was founded. "What about hewers of wood, drawers of water, the one serving, the other served? Even the patriarchs had servants and slaves." "I most cordially agree with you," said Mrs. Brompton, looking across the table at Mrs. Austin, " The woes and wrongs of the j^oor have become ex- ceedingly tiresome. If our workmen are not content with their wages, let them go somewhere else; if they are not pleased with their employers, let them find others. My own opinion, however, is that much of the agitation is caused by meddlesome reformers, who had better be minding their own business." " Thanks to agitation of one kind and another, the time has now come when a man must send for a walking delegate or a committee of some brother- hood and say, ^Please, sir, may I build a mill?' * Please, gentlemen, may I start a foundry ? ' ^ Kindly give me permission to put a ship on the stocks.' Before a person may venture to repair his house or put a new stove in his kitchen the consent of certain organizations has to be obtained. Talk about the THE MARRIAGE SYNDICATE 175 tic parish le patient au. The is rather than that 3. Austin, broke in the very iiat about ) serving, 1 servants said Mrs. 3. Austin. 2Come ex- >t content else; if let them lat much eformers, .ess." other, the nd for a brother- a mill?' ' Kindly ! stocks.' house or )f certain ibout tlie 1 ^ tyranny of capital ! ' It is not to be compared with the tyranny of labor." Mr. Keen spoko with some irritation, though this was not to be wondered at, for conipHcations in the labor market had affected him quite seriously in some business matters. " For my part," said Mr. Brompton, speaking in a very positive way, '* I never permit dictation from outside parties in matters that concern my business. I pay my men what I please. I dismiss them at my pleasure. It is my money that they earn, and they nnist earn it in my way or not at all. No man need work for me unless it suits him ; no man shall work for me unless it suits me. These worthless schemers who agitate strikes and cause trouble should be sum- marily dealt with. Th y are more dangerous to the community than thieve^ or firebugs." "I am right glad to hear you say so," Mrs. Austin eagerly said, her snappy black eyes full of Southern fire. " AVhat do such men T^now of your business or of any business ? And yet they order strikes; they persuade men to give up their places; they disturb the public peace, and all the while enrich themselves at the expense of the very ones whom they pretend to helj). I know you E'ortherners fought for ' freedom,' as you call it, but it seems now as if the hod man and the knight of the shovel had the upper hand." Mrs. Austin was " reconstructed " only in part. Her father had been an officer in the Confederate army, and was killed at Gettysburg. The proclama- tion of Lincoln had emancipated their slaves, leaving their plantations deserted and useless. Though only 176 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. Hi i; , I *i ■ ■M •'^ a girl, she remembered that terrible time ; there was, therefore, more than a tinge of bitterness in her voice when slie spoke of "Northerners " and " freedom." Madge saw by a certain light in Edward Vanghen's eyes, together with an eager expression on his face, that he was about to reply, so the instant Mrs. Austin had finished she put a quiet question to him wliich took his attention for the time. Janet, with equal adroitness, engaged the battalions of Hugh Dunbar's speech, holding them effectually in check. The two dangerous ones were thus disposed of, leaving Mrs. Austin in possession of the verbal heights. Telegraphic signals liaving been exchanged, Mrs. Disney made that mysterious motion which is so well understood, and in a few moments the party had ex- changed the diniiig room for the parlors. "When Dr. Disney suggested that in view of Mrs. Keen's very delicate health the utmost carefulness was necessary, and then pleasantly proposed that she send a substitute in the person of her daughter, he was speaking one word for Mrs. Keen and two for himself. Dr. Disney had his own reasons for hoping that in the near future John would see that Miss Keen was a very attractive young lady, whose fortune and connections were both highly desirable. When Mr. Keen accepted Dr. Disney's kindly sug- gestion he also was speaking one word for Mrs. Keen and two for himself. His hope, however, was not in John Disney, but in Percy Brompton, for he had his own reasons for desiring an alliance with the Bromp- ton household. We have all heard of matchmaking mothers, who ■' I'M THE MARRIAGE SYNDICATE. 177 there was, her voice •ecdom." ^anghen's 1 his face, rs. Austin lim which ath equal Dunbar's The two ving Mrs. iged, Mrs. is so well ty had ex- w of Mrs. arefulness d that she ighter, he d two for or hoping that Miss 3e fortune indly sug- yirs. Keen vas not in le had his e Bromp- lers, who i M in tlie most adroit way got their daughters " listed " on the matrimonial exchange, and then form a little syndicate of cousins and aunts to manage tlio market as AVall Street never dreams of. Dick Verdant, a good, simple-hearted fellow, had hardly been fairly introduced to Miss P-.uisay before he was taken possession of by the Pausay combine, and what with "dear, sweet girl," "so kind and devoted," "a perfect treasure," " worth her weight in gold," fol- lowed up with urgent invitations to all sort of func- tions at the homes of certain members of the " com- bine," Dick was bewildered, nor could he recoNcr himself before lie was being received as the accepted suitor of Miss Pausay. But she made him a capital wife, and he was much better off than if he had married some Dresden shep- herdess, with staring blue eyes and a lot of iluiTy flaxen hair. What delicate management was required with the rector of St. Veronica's ! The dear man was tall, gaunt, ascetic, with his head among the stars, and hardly a thouglit for the common things of earth. But Mrs. Wiseman had a daughter, in whose gentle bosom there throbbed more hopes than ])robabilitics. Miss AViseman was famous for her skill in working altar cloths. She had a genius for Dorcas meetings. IJcr fame as a zealous leader in church activities had gone abroad. AVhen the right time came Mrs. Wise- man formed a little syndicate ; St. Veronica's became the center of attraction ; the congregations increased ; broader plans of church work were devised ; Miss Wiseman had frequent consultations with the rector, 12 ' w t ill ii f , ii ! !i^ ft 178 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. 80 today slic is tlic rcctorcss, and Mrs. Wiseman has not lived in vain. Lord Piccadilly had hardly come down the gang- way before he was in a network against which nothing availed. lie was deluged with cards for everything in town and out of town. He had calls and callers at all times and seasons. The hospitalities that were crowded npon him — rides in the park, dinners at Tuxedo, trips to Newport, moonlight sails uj) the river, boxes at the opera, attentions of every im- aginable description — were more than he could num- ber. He wrote to his father, the Earl of Cheapside : " These Americans are the most hospitable people I ever met. Their kindness is really wonderful." He was not then aware that he was in the hands of the Shrewdly syndicate, whose one purpose was to have a daughter marry into the English nobility. Miss Shrewdly is now the Countess of Cheapside, her husband's noble father having quite recently de- parted this life in that full odor of sanctity which is the special privilege of the highly born. She carried a bagful of American securities to her British home, by which the Clieapside estates and baronial halls w-ere taken out of pawn, but she left behind her a man's broken, shadowed life, and mem- ories from which her heart would never be free. Still, she is a countess, is addressed as " my lady," visits at Marlborough House — enough, surely, to satisfy the pride of any woman. It was a pity that Dr. Disney and Mr. Keen should differ so widely in their plans. The one thought of his son, the other thought of his daughter, but in w m;I iseinan has I the ff.'uiir- icli iiothiiii; everjtiiing and cullers 3 that were dinners at lils up the every ini- jould nmn- ^lieapside : ble j3eople lerful" tlie hands )ose was to )bility. ^heapside, centlj de- ^ which is ies to her states and t she left md mem- bo free, nv lady," urely, to 3n should ought of THE MARRIAGE SYNDICATE. 179 ir, but m 1 t M T reality each man was tliinking of himself. In his way Dr. Disney had (juito an alleetiun for John, just as Mr. Keen had for Kliea, but often these affections of ours are only envelopes in which much of down- right selfishness is inclosed. Mrs. Shrewdlj would have been indignant if any- one had charged her with selfishness, but she was selfish — cruelly, heartlessly selfish — and to gratify that selfishness she sacrificed her (laughter's ha])piness, and was guilty of soul murder. " llather a pleasant yo'ing man Mr. Vaughen is," said Miss Keen to Mudge Disney, as they chatted together after the party had returned to the parlors. "Very," Madge answered, for though she had a way of speaking of him to John as the " unearned in- crement," and was disposed to regard him as somewhat visionary, still there was no denying the fact that ho was a most agreeable young fellow. "Ygu have known him some time?" was the very natural rpiestion, and the one next in order. " He was in college with my brother. They are classmates. He spent part of the vacation with us one year." " Of what family is he ? " came next. Madge was fully aware that the ice here was thin and the skating: dancerous. " I really don't know," which was literally true. " I think he is an only son. His mothc ? lives in Eastwich, a little place somewhere down East." " He seems intimate with the Bromptons." The ice was not quite so thin here. Madge could skate, therefore, in comparative comfort. N^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I U^IM 125 ■ 2.2 ■ 40 U8 ISi u 2.0 1.25 i 1.4 i 1.6 - 6" V] 71 /: $s 7 Photographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 f 180 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ** Tea ; he is Mr Brompton's nephew. His mother and Mr. Brompton are brother and sister.'' "01" not very loud, but significant. Then, as things will, changes took place in the groupings, so that in due time Edward found himself talking with Miss Keen, evidently finding something of interest to talk of, for they remained together for nearly the rest of the evening. Dr. Disney was too courteous to show any disap- pointment, yet he found himself wishing that John was in Edward's place, chatting so easily and pleas- antly with Miss Keen. Mr. Keen was too much a man of the world to betray the least annoyance, still at heart he was angry with Mark Brompton's nephew for taking the place which he had intended for Mark Brompton's son. As for John and Percy, itll unconscious of the plans which were in the minds of the two match- makers, they were discussing the possibilities of a yacht race, the one yacht with a hull of aluminum, the other one of celluloid. " Who is the Mr. Vaughen we met at dinner ? " said Miss Keen to her father, in the carriage on their way home. " A clerk in my ofiice," was the angry reply. Mr. Keen was thoroughly angry — angry with the Dis- neys for having invited Yaughen, but more angry with his daughter for wasting the evening as she did. " I understood Miss Disney to say that he was Mr. Brompton's nephew," said Miss Keen, very much surprised at her father's reply. nother in the limself ething ler for disap- Jolm pleas- uch a e, still Bphew Mark THE MARRIAGE SYNDICATE. 181 '' So he 18 ; bat he is a common clerk in my office, not much better than an office boy, and poor as a chorch moose." << O I " responded Bhea, but not in the same tone as earlier in the evening. Nothing more was said and very soon the carriage drew up at their door. )f the natch- ) of a inum, ler ? » their Mr. Dis- mgry 8 she 8 Mr. nuch li^p .1 '■,') 182 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ■ .'.'. p I r! .* K Ihi: CHAPTER XXL Wee Jamie. ITT we mnst not forget Ilngli Dunbar nor tlie work to "which lie had given liiniself — a work which he was finding exceedingly difficult and complicated. Though he was young, strong, eager for experiments, and still more eager for re- sults, yet already he had discovered that neither "fashionable slumming" nor spasmodic charity was of the least avail. The fashionable slummer he regarded as a vain, silly person, whose motives were chiefly sentimental, and who usually did far more harm than good. Spectacular charity excited his utter abhorrence, for it only mocked the awful misery which it failed to alleviate. In his parish were multitudes of people — thou- sands upon thousands — whose condition was not so much that of poverty as of dense, terrible ignorance, in many cases reaching to semi-barbarism. That a large proportion of these people were aliens, of for- eign language, with habits peculiar to themselves, entirelv unfamiliar with American life, in no wise lessened his sense of responsibility, but rather added to it. Many of these people — it might hardly be fair to say most of them — but very many of them had thrown aside almost everything by way of religious tradi- WEE JAMIE. 183 i.-4 tion, and despite earnest efforts refused to have any- tliing to do with churches or church people. When Sunday came, and the season would admit of it, manv went to the beaches, to the common sum- mer resorts, of which there are scores within an hour's ride from the city, and to places of public enter- tainment. Others were not able to afford these lux- uries, but had to content themselves with such inex- pensive enjoyments as Central Park could give. In the eveaing the beer gardens along the river front iilled up with their usual crowd, who patronized the swings, the dance rooms, contriving in various ways to put in the time till about midnight. Sunday had no religious significance whatever. It was simply a lioliday, just a day in which tliey were not compelled t<» work, though for that matter Hugh Dunbar found that hundreds of them plied the needle or run the sewing machine on Sundays the same as on other days. At an early age the children were taken from the day schools — many of them were never sent at all — for such money as they could earn was needed to support the home. They drifted into factories of one kind and another, of which there are hundreds in New York. They were crowded into workrooms of innumerable varieties, some so filthy, so foul, so illy ventilated, as to be little better than pesthouses. They took whatever employment was offered, com- ing into contact mostly with those of their own class, only, of course, more hardened, as well as more familiar with the coarse vulgarities of life. When the day's work was over there was nothing for them but return to the crowded tenement, ^ 184 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ; I ' 'J which in the summer was stifling, compelling many of them to remain out of doors all night rather than suffer the awful heat of their rooms. Not infrequently the small " flat," or even " side " of a flat, would be divided with another tenant, so that a score of families would sometimes be occupy- ing a building not much wider and only a story or two higher than an ordinary house ! The walls were usually so thin that the common conversation of the people across the hall could be heard easily, nor was this conversation always such as one wished to hear. At night the hallways and nar- row passages were dark, so that going up or down stairs was attended with considerable annoyance, if not danger. As Hugh Dunbar went through this parish of his he wondered if such a city as New York was doing all that it might do for these people. Speaking to John Disney, he said : " When the city puts a light on the street corner, stations a policeman with a club, arranges for the visits of a garbage man, has it done its whole duty in this matter ? " " Ask me not in sadful poetry. I am no alderman with a pocketful of franchises, listening eagerly for the voice of some street car company." At heart John Disney was just as serious as Hugh Dunbar, but he did not show it in the same way. " A grave pi'oblem is this of municipal govern- ment — one that must be solved, or trouble will come to us," Dunbar answered, putting aside John's pleas- antry. ■■m- ^ WEE JAMIE. 185 m II " A grave problem it is ; we are always burying something or other. One time it is wires, another time it is gas pipes, anotlier time it is water mains, and no sooner have we fairly buried them than we dig the poor things up again." Dunbar looked at John half reprovingly, but John went right on : " The graves we dig in the streets of New York are long enough, deep enough, broad enough, to bury everything and everybody four times a year. You are right, Dunbar ; municipal government is a grave problem." " And to these thousands we have given the bal- lot, men who are utterly incapable of an intelligent vote," Dunbar replied, as seriously as he could, for John's humor ^vas not without its effects. " And also the box," added John. " These friends of yours are not satisfied with the ballot, but take the box as well, stuffing it to their hearts' desire. No wonder some wards roll up such big majorities." Hugh Dunbar was proud of his native city. Its magnificent enterprise, its commercial supremacy, its genius for vast .undertakings, the ease with whicli it accepted tlie heaviest responsibilities, the earnest- ness of its life, the power which it exerted all over the nation, the broad, generous way in which it re- sponded to every appeal, together with its manifest desire to be worthy of its high rank among the great cities of the world, produced in the mind of Dunbar a feeling such as Dantd felt for Florence, or the ancient Hebrews for Jerusalem. But the first six months of earnest work in his % •**^. 186 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ^ new parish brought him face to face with conditions against wliich he dare not close his eyes, for he saw possibilities of danger on almost every side. It was well for him that he had the help and in- spiration of Sister Kora at this time, for often he was almost discouraged at the vastness of the work upon which he had entered. "Jamie Smithers is very sick," she said to him one morning, when with Mr. Sterling and some members of the sisterhood connected with the church they were planning the work for the day. They were all interested in Jamie, who was a dear, wee chap, growing up as a flower in a wilderness of sand. When about five years of age one day while l)laying on the street he was knocked down and run over by a brewer's wagon, jnst escaping with his life. He was taken to the hospital, where one of his legs was amputated, and, though he had the use of the otlier one, it was so bent and weakened as to be almost valueless. If Jamie had been the son of a rich man, who could have paid lawyers' fees and se- cured witnesses, the brewer would probably have been held responsible for the reckless driving of his drayman, but at the trial it was made out somehow that the boy had tried to run across the street almost under the horses' feet, and that the driver could not possibly have prevented the accident. The fact that most of those who gave testimony had been visited by the brewer's agent, while others of them were in the employment of the brewer, evidently did not affect the jury, for the case was dismissed. The brewer, however, was not utterly heartless, for when J- WEE JAMIE. 187 iditions he saw and in- liewas k upon nm one embers they a dear, ness of ^ while nd run lis life, u's legs of the to be n of a md Be- have of his lehow ilmost Id not t that isited Brain I not The when j; Mi Jamie came home from the hospital he sent him the price of a handsome pair of crutches 1 Of course the boy was deprived of the enjoyments and pursuits of the otlier children of his class, and his pale, sad face, as ho sat at the window looking out upon the street watching the boys and girls playing about in hecd- ioss glee, was most pathetic. Neither could he at- tend the public school, for the school was some blocks distant, and he could not walk so far. But Jamie did not give up in despair. Ko sooner did his little sister ElHe begin to learn her letters than he had her teach him. I>y degrees he took on spelling, then writing with the help of slate and pencil, then something of arithmetic, so that he not only kept up with Effic, but even went ahead of his brother Bob. His father being a carpenter, a first- class one, Jamie came naturally by a desire to work with tools, nor was it long before his chair at the window was exchanged for a seat at a bench which Mr. Smithers had put up for him. Here Jamie made all manner of things — salad sets, paper knives, nap- kin rings, and as he grew older he ventured on more ambitious work. At first his father only humored him in this carving pastime, thinking it would help the i^oor boy to get through the day. He soon found, however, that there was genuine merit in Jamie's work, so he cast about for some way to dispose of it, Kot far from where the Smithers lived, just down the avenue a little way, there was a curio store whose proprietor handled all sorts of wares, particularly rare old carvings, Flemish and Swiss. Jamie's work went in here, coming out again in a I 188 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. • ■ 1 s 1 11 few weeks with the marks of centuries upon it I Many a dear man proudly exhibited to his admiring family a bit of " genuine Flemish " which he had picked up in this curio store for a mere song. But Jamie knew nothing of this, neither did his father. Tlie curio man, who was shrewd enough to keep his own counsel, was the only one in the secret. Fur a time things went on pleasantly in the Smithers household, for Silas Smithers, being a good work- man, had steady employment in a shop not far from where he lived. But his employer (there was only one, Mr. "Wood having succeeded to the business, but keeping the old firm name) was not content with the way things were going, so he branched out quite extensively. He en- tered into some heavy building operations in Harlem and on the West Side, but all at once business be- came unsettled, money could not be had to meet his obligations, so that eventually the firm of Wood & Stone was forced to suspend. Silas Smithers was very sorry at the misfortune which had overtaken Mr. Wood, for he had been a kind, considerate employer; still there were other shops in New York where he would find work to his hand. But when he started out he learned that many other of the building firms were in the same plight as Wood & Stone. Steady work was nowhere to be had. He tramped mile after mile, inquiring everywhere, but to no pui-pose. Things began to look serious. Shops in which two or three hundred men were wont to work stood idle. Then Silae was glad to get short jobs, working a few days now and WEE JAMIE. 189 npon it! adiiiiriiif > interubt ia 1 at niucli ing to pay. ends iiiadu tlio UBiial inbar, with no insoiiio was ncrv- ]q liitnsclf ot over all difTorent lie went ions tools >w certain nearly an delighted ')' see my the little ar might the land- ^mething sometime ssing the " "We ain't nu'.ch on goin' to chnrch that I know, an' btill my hnsljand an' me wants to do what is right." With this they parted, Mrs. Smitliers holding the himp, while Mr. Diinhar eautioiihly made hid way down the flights of stairs. "The nicest-spoken gentleman I've ever met," she haid to Silas, when he came home that evening. "An' he talked to Jamie just as if he knew all a])ont earvin', an' he knows of a man who wants half a dozen of them Swins frames." " One of them minister chaps?" qnestioned 8ilas, hut not unkiiwlly. *' Yes, hut he's got no minister manners like as ye hear of. He's just plain an' scnsilile, like conmion folks. He talked about you an' what you worked at, an' s'posed times was dull. IFe invited Effie an' liob to go Bometime to the Mission, an' shook hands with me an* Jamie when he went out." All the time Mrs. Smithers was talking she was busy setting the table, lifting lids from sundry pots that were on the kitchen stove, and preparing gen- erally for the evening meal. "He's going to bring me some models which he wants copied," added Jamie, whoso pale cheeks were flushed with the excitement of Mr. Dunbar's visit. Silas Smithcrs said nothing, but went over to tlie " sink," where he washed his hard, rough hands ; then splashed some water on his face, which he wiped and dried ; then he combed out his dusty, matted liair before the little mirror, which hung on the side of the sink next the window. By this time Mrs. Smith* ers was ready to dish out the supper. i li: I ! *r ' ■' f li 1 ' k 192 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. After Slipper he liglited l>is pipe, a cheap brier, with a supposedly amber tip, which Mrs. Sinithera liiid once given him for a Christmas present. The amber tip was gone ; tlie bowl was considerably charred all around tlie top, but, withal, that was his favorite pipe. The fact that "Mollie," as he called her, gave hi n that pipe may have had something to do with his regard for it. The pipe was smoked half way before he said any- thing in reply to what he had heard about Hugh Dunbar. " An' so yon liked the minister," he said, looking at Jamie, who was finishing "one of them Swiss frames." " You'd like him," answered Jamie. " One sure thing, he knows about carvin'." "Ministers an' me don't see much of one another. I lets them go their way, and they mostly lets me go mine;" and Silas gave an extra tug or two at his pipe, which was threatening to go out. "Well, you'd like this minister," Jamie said, with confidence, holding out the Swiss frame and looking it over critically. " You think so, my son ? Then I must try an' be here next time he comes." AVith this Silas emptied the ashes out of his pipe, tapped it on his boot heel, and laid it down on the mantelpiece. Then he w^ent out to see the secretary of his " union " about a special meeting which was called for the following Sunday afternoon. Ql ••^tM 'ti t- m cheap brier, rs. Siiiithers % esent. The m [jonsiderably that was hia 1 as lie culled m ^mething to 1 ho said nuy- ibout Hugh J aid, looking 1 them Swiss m ii One sure no another, lets mo go at his pipe, said, with id looking try an' bo " his pipe, vvn on the secretary A'hich was -.1 A TRADES UNION MEETING. 193 u y CHAPTER XXII. A Trades Union Meeting. OU thiidc nothing can bo done for the Smithors people just now?" Hugh Dun- bar asked Mr. Sterling one morning, as they were talking the matter over. " That boy ap- peals to me most strongly, but I am afraid to sug- gest his going away, for now that Smithors is out of work Jamie is needed at home." " That is just where the trouble is," replied Mr. Sterling. "They cannot afford to send him an}^- where, and if we should undertake to do it Silas Smithors is so proud and high-spirited that he would resent it." ''What a pity that people have such foolish no- tions about receiving help I When a man is down why can't ho let some one give him a lift." Mr. Dunbar had a perplexed, anxious look, for he was troubled about these Smithors people. " You never were down, Dunbar, so you can't tell how it feels. Besides, a great deal depends on how the help is offered. Let me tell you that the real honest, utiserving poor are the very last to accept charity — at least such charity as is generally at- tempted. You go, for instance, to the dispensaries. Inquire of the doctors and those in charge, and they will tell you that most of those who come there for treatment do it to avoid the expense of medical serv- 13 194 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. V f ■ i-1 I U iff 5! 'ir i.- h' i ;!! ice, for which they are abundantly able to pay. The same is true of about everything else." Mr. Dunbar made some remark by way of reply, quoting Dr. Disney, who had spoken of the dispensary system as one of the finest charities in New York. " With all due deference to Dr. Disney," Mr. Ster- ling said, ^' he knows nothing about it. I do. I have gone to these dispensaries ; I have talked with the doctors in charge, and my opinion is that they are about the most abused charity in New York, for the very people whom they were intended for seldom re- ceive any service from them." "Of course there are opportunities for abuse; still I hardly see how your remark about our other char- ities applies." " "Well, I tried it once, and that once was enough for me. I went to a certain much-advertised insti- tution just to see, as some people say, * how it feels.' An elaborately dressed female, the daughter of an empress by her airs one would imagine, turned upon me a pair of glass eyes — not glasses or spectacles, but cold, unfeeling glass eyes — and in words which were shot from her mouth like bits of ice from a catapult she made inquiries of my general needs and condi- tion. Then I was passed along to the tender mercies of an official, who put me through such an exami- nation as a police captain gives to a man aiTested for murder. After this I had to interview some ' visit- witli the hope of discovering that I was a ors * rounder,' or some other equally estimable member of the community. Now, red tape and detectives are very well in their way, but every poor man is in I A TRADES UNION MEETING. 195 y. The if reply, spensaiy York, kir. Ster- I have ivith the they are for the Idom re- use; still ler char- enough ed insti- it feels.' 3r of an ed upon cles, but eh were 3atapult not a tramp or a drunkard, and should not be treated as such. When charity is administered out of a hand that is as hard and as cold as iron it is more of a punishment to receive than to starve or go to jail." Hugh Dunbar made no reply just then, though ho did not agree quite with Mr. Sterling. Shortly after, and having met Silas Smithers a few times, he invited him to come to the Mission and hear Mr. Sterling preach. " He is a good preacher, much better than I am, and short," he added, smiling. " I'm much obliged to you, I'm sure," said Silas, "an' sometime Mollie an' me will go, though wc hain't been much to church for a long while." " Mr. Sterling preaches next Sunday. Why not come then?" " Next Sunday we have a meetin' of our union." " What time does your meeting begin ? " Hugh was anxious to get a hold on Smithers, not only for his own sake, but that in some way he might find an opportunity of doing something for Jamie. "At two o'clock," said Silas; "but I belong to a committee which meets half an hour earlier, an' we have some special things to report on." "Suppose, then, you come to the Mission in the morning, remain with me to lunch, then I will go to your meeting in the afternoon." In view of Mr. Dunbar's kindness to Jamie, not only by his visits, but in disposing of a goodly num- ber of his carvings (indeed, between Sister Nora and Mr. Dunbar the boy was kept so busy that the curio man complained), it seemed an ungracious thing of 196 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. Silas Smithers to refuse. The fact is, Silas was well aware that at the meetings of the union ministers and churches were spoken of quite freely, not always, either, in very respectful terms, and he was afraid Mr. Dunbar might feel hurt if he heard some of these things. A compromise finally was agreed upon — Silas could not go with Mr. Dunbar on the next Sunday, but would take him to the union meeting in the after- noon. "An' then some other Sunday MoUie an' me will go to the Mission," was his last word, as Mr. Dunbar got np to leave. *' I'm kind of afeerd he won't like it," Silas said to Mrs. Smithers, after Mr. Dunbar had gone. " You see, times just now is bad, heaps of our men is out of work, an' there is considerable feelin'. I wish he hadn't wanted to come. Still, it ain't no fault of mine. » Silas consoled himself by bringing out his old brier pipe, which he proceeded to fill in his deliberate way. Then lighting it he sat down, and began to meditate upon the possibilities of the coming Sunday afternoon. There was not much of the clergyman in Mr. Dun- bar's appearance, at least so far as dress was concerned, when he presented himself at the time appointed, to go with Silas to the union meeting. " Just say I am a friend of yours," he said to Silas, as they went down the avenue. Silas was greatly relieved at the change in Mr. Dunbar's costume. He had not said much about it A TRADES UNION MEETING. W at home, for both Mrs. Smitliers and Jamie felt highly complimented at Mr. Dunbar's desire to at- tend the meeting in his company, and nothing would have pleased them better than for the young clergy- man to appear in regular church garb; but Silas knew more about these matters that they did. Mr. Dun- bar's tweed suit, with soft, broad-brimmed hat, had therefore his unqualified approval. It was expected that the meeting of the afternoon would be of special interest, for, as Silas explained to Mr. Dunbar on the way, delegates were coming from some of the other unions with proposals and resolu- tions. The hall where the meeting was held, though not large, could easily accommodate about five hundred people, but it was comparatively empty when Silas and Mr. Dunbar arrived. This, however, w^as not to be wondered at, for Silas had a committee to attend which met a full half hour before the regular meet- ing. Follow^ing the lead of Mr. Smitliers, Hugh Dunbar went up to the front seats in the hall, going over close to the wall on the side, to the right of the speaker's desk, as this would give him opportunity of seeing the people as well as hearing the speeches. Being alone, Silas now attending his committee, Mr. Dunbar watched the men as thev came in, in knots and groups, though occasionally one came in by him- self. They were mostly men in middle life, many of them with strong, resolute faces, good, square fore- heads, and frank, clear eyes looking out from under bushy eyebrows. There was quite a sprinkling of younger men, but they were not so serious as the t 193 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. .1 ,1 i ■. others, and by tlie way in whicli they addressed each otlier the meeting was evidently a social occasion. "How goes it, Bill?" " Put it there, Davy." "How's your fightin' weight, Tim?" " Sam, give us your paw." Many such expressions passed freely around, some of which were so quaint and so accon.|/anied with ges- ture as to cause a quiet smile on Dunbar's face at times. The usual tobacco fimoke impai'ted a fair degree of pungency to the air of tlie room, but the ventilation was tolerably good, for which Dunbar was grateful. By the time the chairman called the meeting to order the hall was full, and men were standing in the side aisles as well as back by the door. The usual routine business was got through in regular order, when the chairman amiounced that two special comnn'ttees were now prepared to report. Upon this there was a buzz of excitement, which broke out into vigorous applause as Silas Smithers stood up to read tlie first of the reports called for. It may have been that the presence of Mr. Dim- bar embarrassed the worthy Silas, or that he was afraid of the effect of the discussion upon him, but, be the cause what it may, he began reading in a nervous, timorous way. As he could not be heard, excej)t to those who wore quite near the platform, instantly there were cries of " Louder ! " " Platform ! " "Can't hear!" with the result that Silas had to get up on the platform and begin all over again. By this time he had recovered his nerve, and so read as to be heard all over the hall. A TRADES UNION MEETING. 199 The report set forth the work of a committee which had been appointed to confer with the firm of Mantel & Sill as to the employment of non-union men. Mantel & Sill, tlie committee reported, re- fused abbolutely to discharge the non-union men who were now at work for them. Tom Williams reported for the second committee, and gave the results of a conference with Locke tfe Barr, iron founders and manufacturers of builders' hardware. This firm declared its intention of selling goods to any man who would buy them, whether or not such njan complied with the conditions of the union. The reading of these reports was greeted with cries of " Shame I " " Scabs I " " Strike ! " the excite- ment increasing every moment. Hugh Dunbar vividly recalled the conversation in Dr. Disney's, when Mark Brompton defined his po- sition with such emphasis, though no more positively than M r. Keen had done. " By what right do we interfere with the business of these firms?" said one of the visiting delegates, who without wasting time upon preliminaries struck boldly at the very heart of tlie question. " Simply the right of self-preservation, which is the first law of nature. Unless we interfere, and unless we combine to interfere, we'll be crushed into ruin. All I have in the world is this pair of hands," holding them up 60 that everyone in the room could see them ; " upon these hands my family is dependin' for support. Deprive these hands of labor, an' you deprive my children of bread. But if these hands are not backed I ■• 200 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. up by other hands, an' if tliero is no unity among up, then the man wlio employs mc has mo at his merey. lie can pay me what he pleases. lie can make my hours as long as he likes. lie can discharge mo when it suits him an' for any reason, little or great. Ilavin' nothin' but my hands to depend on, I am helpless unless others unite with me. Your fight for us and our light for you is not against Mantel & Sill or Locke & Ban*. These firms simply repre- sent a combination of capital, an' unless there is on our part a combination of labor the workin'man is not much better than the slaves before the War of the Rebellion. In some respects not so well off, for it was the master's interest to feed an' clothe and shelter his slaves, but you know just as well as I do that there are thousands of horses in New York city who have better homes, better care, better food, than the same number of honest working people." At this point shouts of "True!" "Shame!" were heard all over the hall, and Hugh Dunbar, who knew something of uptown stables and downtown tenements, could not but admit that the speaker was right. " An' we must make this fight for ourselves," the delegate went on. " There is no one who will make it if we don't. The newspapers won't. Capital con- trols newspapers. These reporters at this table are even more at the beck and call of the capitalist than we are. They can be dismissed on the spot, an' if one word is put in the paper that is against capital, the whole lot of them editors will be bundled out instanter. It ain't no use to expect much from A TRADES UNION MEETING. 201 newspapers. The newspaper lives by its advertisin', an' it is not the workman who advertises. lie has nothing to advertise. But the capitalist is the ad- vertiser, and even if he hain't got any stock in the paper he controls it all the same." Here one of the reporters, a yonng man with long hair and a shirt collar of magnificent altitude, pushed back his chair from the table and looked at the speaker r^ superb disdain. The reporter was a green hand evidently. " Our young friend has stopped writin'," said the delegate, pointing to him, whicli secured for the reporter rather more attention than he desired. " An' why has he stopped writin' ? Just because he oare not put in his paper the things which I have said. He can get room for a whole pageful about a boat race. An' why? Because the crews arc the sons of rich men, who are takin' a college course in athletics. No fear of that bcin' crowded out. O, dear, no ! But you look to-morrow in his paper for a report of this meetin'. "Well, you needn't. It won't be there. Not that i' ' young man is to blame. Not at all. He simpi}' dursn't put it in. An' he couldn't put it in if he wanted to. The editor would have it taken out, if he stopped the press to do it. You are quite right, my young friend, in sittin' back an' en joy in' the meetin'. It shows you have good sense, for what's the use of scribblin' a whole lot of stuff an' get nothin' for it but the grand bounce ? " It should be said right here that ever after, when this reporter was sent to union meetings, he was 202 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. I" : » exceedingly careful to pay miimto attention to tlie proceedings, nor was he ever known to practice tho "lofty scorn'* air again in public. "But then tlie newspapers are no worse tlian the otliers," the speaker went on, leaving the reporter to enjoy himself as best ho could. " There's tho pol- itician, for exatnj)le. Will he help us in our light? Kot a bit of it. You can depend upon the politicians just about election time makin' all kinds of promises. An' how they love tho workin'men I They can't sleep nights just for thinkin' of them an' how much they respect them. An* then wo vote as wo aro wanted to, an' the politicians aro never seen or heard from till next election. " An' then there's the Church." Here Hugh Dunbar leaned forward with renewed interest, but Silas Smithers turned away his face so that he could not even see the speaker. Silas was very uncomfortable at this stage of the proceedings, " Docs the Church help us any?" asked the dele- gate. " They come over here with their soup kitch- ens, their coal yards, an' their bread tickets, niakin' a big parade of what is bein' done for the poor, an' yet in the church itself, in the broad aisles, on the best seats, are the very men who grind the faces of the poor. This mornin' most of us didn't go to church. Perhaps we ought. To stay away from church is not much to brag of. But in some of the churches there were men sittin' as pious as saints, owners of tenements, for which we have to pay such awful rents ; directors in corporations, which are the first to cut down wages and the last to raise them ; li!' A TRADES UNION MEETING. 203 men Bingin' about heaven and tlio New Jernsalem who are mean enough to do tilings we'd scorn t<> do. The preachers talk about the * Carpenter of Nazareth/ but I tell you. if he went to some of the churches in this city it's a poor welconje he'd find. S'poso this morniu' he'd gone to pome of them churches uptown, an' the marks of toil on his hands, an' his clothes plain an' commonlike, would he have been taken up the broad aisle an' sat down with all them corporations an' syndicates? Not likely. There isn't a preacher in New York who dares to say the things that the ' Carpenter of Nazareth' said. The men who makes corners on wheat an' cotton, on 'most everything, don't want any such preachin' as the Carpenter preuched. The Church nowadays is for rich people. The poor man is not wanted there. They siiy he is, but when one goes ho knows enough not to go again. We must just fight our own battle. We can't count on anyone but ourselves, but if we will only stand to- gether we are bound to win." Long-continued apphiuse was given the speaker as he concluded, and to the amazement of Silas Smithers, who stealthily glanced around, Mr. Dunbar was applauding as vigorously as anyone in the room. "Clappin' his hands, and stampin' his feet," was how Silas described it to Mrs. Smithers when he got home, Jamie's blue eyes lighting up with wonder as he listened to his father's description of Mr. Dun- bar's excitement at the meeting. The next speaker was of more refinement than the first onCj but no less honest or frank. ill 204 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. *' My friend who has just eut down very properly asked the question, Uy what right do wo intcrfero with the business of Mantel & 8111 or Locke tk l>arr? and he hus answered that question in a way which ad- mits of no further discussion. May I say but a word or two concerning this matter of interference? Our armies, under General Grant, interfered with the ])U8i- ness of the merchants in Vickshurg; not that tliero was any quarrel with the merchants theniHelvcs, but because a great principle was involved; hence indi- vidual rights had to bo sacrificed. "When Sherman undertook his march to the sea ho infringed upon individual rights in the sharpest way. Every great event in history is marked by the loss of individual rights. One of the oldest and most commonly ac- cepted laws in the world is that which gives a man rights in his own property, but there are times when even his ownership must be put aside. Wellington and Napoleon had no legal business on the fields at "Waterloo, and the notices, ** Trespassers prosecuted " and " Keep off the grass," bo far as actual law was con- cerned were entitled to recognition. But there were more matters in "Waterloo than the rights of the in- dividual. Now, Mantel & Sill or Locke & Barr have individual rights, and while these rights do not conflict with others of more importance they are to be respected. But just as in war, when the rights of the individual must give way before the higher laws of necessity, so the rights of the individual em- ployer must yield to the larger rights of the com- munity." Hugh Dunbar again recalled Mark Brompton's A TRADES UNION MEETING. 205 positive Btatcrncnts that no man liad a right to inter- foro in the afTairs of another, and that an employer liad no interests except his own to consider. Iln wondered how Mr. Brompton would meet the cool, meiisurcd words of the delegate. Continuing, lie said: "We say (piite often that a man has a right to do as he pleases with his own. That is not so. Even a man's house is not Ids to do with as he wishes. If he attempts to pull it down he must see that other houses are not endangered thereby. A man can bo indicted for setting liis house on fire if it adjoins other houses. A man cannot even take his own life 1 Wo see, then, that in every instance the riglits of the individual are subordinate toother rights. Hence Mantel & Sill or Locke & Barr, being only mem- bers of the community in which there are interests paramount to theirs, must abandon their claims in favor of that principle which i6 the basis of all true government — * the greatest good to the greatest num- ber.' " licre the speaker closed, and though the enthusiasm was not so great as when the otlier delegate had finished, yet the impression was even deeper. The meeting then adjourned, Mr. Dunbar leav- ing the hall with Silas Smithers. !• t I: I h 206 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ■^ii CHAPTEK XXIIL Mrs. Gubbins Asks Questions. IT so happened that one of the reporters at the iiieetinof of the union — not the callow youth to whom the delegate pa^d such generous attention — was the newspaper man referred to by Edward Yaughen in his letter to his mother. His name was Faber — Dixon Faber when it was written in full — and Edward was discovering him to be a first-rate fellow. Mrs. Gubbins, who really was a well-meaning woman, tried to exercise a sort of motlierly care over her boarders, and usually on Monday evening, when most of her household would be at dinner, took occasion to introduce topics which related more or less to the preceding day. In this he was seconded by Miss Pollok, for Miss Pollok disapproved most strongly of the way in which many of the boarders spent Sunday, particularly certain heathenish young men who went off in the morning on excursions of various kinds, seldom returning before night. Miss Pollok was a devoted member of the Church of St. Elijah — attended low celebration in the morn- ing, high celebration at noon, evensong late in the afternoon, and vespers in the early evening; so that, like a certain pious sparrow and an equally pious swallow, both of which are mentioned in holy psalm, she had found in the church a house and a nest for herself. 1 MRS. CUBBINS ASKS QUESTIONS. 207 of rch [•n- he m, There were those unkind enough to intimate that the incoming of a fresh, marriageable curate quickened her religious zeal ; but such remarks are unwortliy of any well-disposed person. There is no doubt but that she was considerably taken up with Chasuble, a round-faced, fair-haired divine, who so robed himself, even for street wear, as to suggest the Litany on lep"s, and wlien Chasuble, using certain mediaeval tones, spoke of "the holy altaws of the chauch," Miss Pollok listened in a rapt, ecstatic way. It is also true that when Chasuble allowed himself to become engaged to a brewer's widow, of voluminous person but of ample fortune, Miss Pollok experienced such a sense of grief as interfered for the time with her church-going pro- pensities. During such time her harp hung silent on the willows, and her sweet voice was not heard in quivering melody. She thought the artist was a heathen — a handsome heathen, she admitted to herself — one well worth reclaiming, but the artist refused point-blank to be reclaimed. Then she essayed the humorist, only to meet the same sad result. As a missionary to the heathen Miss Pollok was not a brilliant success. Her efforts might possibly have been more favorably received had she been twenty years younger and fairer to look upon. " I was not at church yesterday," said Mr. Faber, in reply to a question of Mrs. Gubbins, " yet I heard a good sermon." "Where were you?" asked Mr. "Wright. "I have been taught to believe that the sermon and ■X- ':'s ! \ s i I \li [ " it I! 11 208 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. the sanctuary sustained and supplemented the Sab- bath." Mr. Wright, let it be said, was an ardent believer in the power of alliteration. lie followed tliis order not only in the building of his plays, but in ordinary conversation. "Terrible truths tellingly told," he said, after Faber had spoken of the address of the first delegate, " But are they truths ? " Edward Yaughen ques- tioned. " Well, concerning the newspapers, I thought the only way to decide was to put the delegate's charge to a test. I therefore wrote a fair account of the proceedings, half a column, perhaps more, but the city editor, though he said the * stuff' wu good, run the blue pencil right through the very parts which I was anxious to keep. Then, as a matter of curiosity, I got the other papers which had reporters at the meeting, but not one of them gave the proceedings a full * stick.' Only one paper alluded to th'j visiting delegates, then merely mentioning their names." " You think the other charges equally true ? " Vaughen further questioned. " Not a doubt of it to my mind," Faber answered, " Perhaps our friend Singleton here, wlio is something of a politician, may not agree with me. Miss Pollok probably will defend the church. Still, I think the delegate was right." Mrs. Gubbins, having met the demands of her conscience, was satisfied with the results of her in- quiries, but seeing that the discussion was likely to reach beyond the limits of the usual dinner hour, MRS. GUBBINS ASKS QUESTIONS. 209 >» proposed that the company adjourn to the parlor, where the conversation would not be interrupted. But an easy, informal dinner-table talk, with its "Yes, I will, thank you;" "The olives, did you say ? " " May I trouble you ? " " Thanks, you are very kind," and all the other trifles which redeem the meal from being a mere feeding time and prevent tlie table from becoming a trough, cannot bo carried to the parlor without losing almost everything of in- terest. Especially was this true of Mrs. Gubbins's parlor, for it was a long, narrow, dark, and rather depresbing room, somewhat sparsely settled with furniture of the horse-hair persuasion. There was, of course, the inevitable piano, but it was closed, for this was one of the seasons referred to, when Miss Pollok's harp was on the willows, she being the only member of the household who had the courage to attack this treacherous and elusive instrument. The carpet had that strained, weary look which one sometimes sees in people, as though it had been so beaten and trampled on as to have lost almost everything of cheerfulness and color. A mysterious but pretentious set of steel engrav- ings, relating in some vague way to the " voyage of life," occupied prominent places on the walls. There were also some oil paintings, portraits — one of Mr. Gubbins at the time when he endowed Mrs. Gubbins with all his worldly goods ; one of Mrs. Gubbins in the robes of festal glory in which she received this endowment ; and one of Miss Gubbins when she was a cherub of about five years' growth. The cherub If 210 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. Il III 'ft' 1.1 ,;) ■:! 1 , 1 i!! T ■Il 4 i i' 1 i dl had wide white pantalettes coming down almost to lier shoes ; a light but ample dress, belted with a broad blue sash tied in a huge bowknot, with streamers nearly to tlie floor ; fat, puffy cheeks, be- tween which a nose lay somewhere, and a smile which must have cost the artist hours of inspired labor. A *' clock set " in black marble had the place of honor on the mantelpiece, but the clock preserved a rigid silence concerning all its movements, while the other pieces of the " set," being of the Egyptian urn order, added to the general solemnity. " As gloomy as a church," was the comment of the artist, but not said in the presence of Mrs. Gubbins, for the artist was a gentleman. " Silent and stately, chaste and charming," was the comment of Mr. Wright, but said in the presence of Mrs. Gubbins, for Mr. Wright was fond of an au- dience. " Third floor, hall back, chairs for two, bed for one, tobacco for three," said Edward Yaughen to Singleton and Faber, as they came up from the dining room. To Yaughen's room they went, Singleton taking the rocker, Faber the other chair, Edward sitting crosswise on the bed, with his back against the wall. "That must have been quite a meeting yesterday afternoon," Edward said. " I wish I might sometime attend such a gathering." " Then come with me," answered Faber. " You look almost intelligent enough to pass for a reporter. With a little coaching 3'ou might manage to sit at a table, scribble on some rough paper, and seem to be taking in the whole business." a e MRS. GUBBINS ASKS QUESTIONS ifEs, 60 as to get a 211 After a few quick puffs, so as to get a good "fire on," he said : " There was a chap there yesterday who greatly interested nie. He came in with one of the men who read a report ; but he was no mechanic, for his hands were white and smooth. Besides, he didn't have the * shop ' air." " One of the enemy," Mr. Singleton suggested. " A spy in the camp." "No. He was evidently in sympathy with the men. I sat where I could see him, and I confess to a curiosity as to who he is." " Young man ? " questioned Edward, with a certain eagerness. " Yes, somewhere between twenty-five and thirty." " Large gray eyes ? " " I should say ! Bright and quick as lightning." " Good-looking ? " " As good-looking as a man has any business to be." "Did you notice him when the delegate was speaking about the Church ? " " Yes." "Particularly?" " Yes." " How did he take it ? " " His eyes fairly burned. Once or twice he acted as if he wanted to say something. His face was very pale." " That young man was Hugh Dunbar," Edward said, in a tone which admitted of no doubt. "And who, may I ask, is Hugh Dunbar?" said ■j: f' ■m. w 212 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. Mr. Singleton, reaching for the tobacco jar, which stood on the bureau, and proceeding to refill his pipe. "I can tell you," answered Faber, "though I never saw him before yesterday. lie is a rich young clergyman, who, instead of settling down in some elegant parish, has gone to the East Side, and is doing all kinds of work in a Mission over there." " Then you know something of him, after all. I W'as afraid he was not being known," Edward said. " That is where you are mistaken, nor understand Dunbar's way," Faber replied. " True, he has not sent his picture to our office, which explains my not recognizing him yesterday. Neither does he deluge us with typewritten * pickings ' from his sermons, as some prominent divines are in the habit of doing. But we are keeping track of him, for he is going to make a stir one of these days." "Queer line, though, for that sort of man to take," Mr. Singleton said. " Just the right line," answered Faber. "How do you make that out ?" Singleton asked. " Easily. Here is the Church, which is sup^josed to stand for the enlightenment of the people, claim- ing, too, to have a special mission from heaven, and yet, instead of making common cause with the people, it has abandoned them, it has curried favor w^ith the rich, and when the delegate said that there was far more pride than piety in the Church he was saying the truth." " Why, Faber, for a newspaper man you are almost pious," Singleton said, good-humoredly. " 0, that's the way we get it from you Wall Street MRS. GUBBINS ASKS QUESTIONa 213 saints wlien we reporters talk about churches or religion," Faber answered, with a smile. " Still, when we see a gritty, plucky chap, like this Dunbar, trying, man fashion, to do some honest work, it is something to be proud of." This time it was Faber wlio rcachod for the tobacco jar, which Edward usually kept well stocked up. " Then you agree with the general charges of the delegate ? " Mr. Singleton asked. " As a broad statement of the facts, leaving a mar- gin, however, for exceptions, yes," Faber answered, without a moment's hesitation. "Kindly explain," asked Edward Vaughen. "Re- member I am a stranger, and not familiar as you are with the conditions of the city." " I will," responded Faber, tilting his chair back against the wall, at the same time working his head out from under the short, straight gas pipe, with which he was in some danger of colliding. " Speak- ing in a general way, the churches in this city have less interest in the masses of the common people than they have in the pagans of Central Africa. I am familiar with New York, for my work on the Trom- bone^ with which I have been connected for a number of years, has sent me to every part of the city. There is a lot of talk at public meetings now and then about tlie * masses,' but most of that talk is either rant or cant. To put it plainly, the Church has deserted the common people. It has no use for them. They are not wanted. The fact is, and we all know it, the lines between the rich and the poor are drawn more sharply in the churches than any. & ^ I ^ ■ 1 I il i: 214 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. where else. A man can go to tlie theater and not feel his poverty as ho will in a church." " Because he can go to the peanut gallery," inter- posed Mr. Singleton. "The other man can go to the boxes." "Exactly," replied Faber. "The theater is a financial matter from beginning to cud ; the Churcli is not. The Churcli is sujiposed to stand for brother- hood, for equality, for great principles of benevolence and love. Hence it should be the last place on earth to mark differences or set one class against another." " Evidently you have studied the situation," Mr. Singleton said, looking at Faber with more interest than at any time during the evening. " I have, experimentally as well as theoretically. But," looking at his watch, *- you must excuse me. I have an assignment at an uptown affair and must be off." " Bright fellow," said Singleton, after Faber had gone. " Good fellow, too," added Edward. As Mr. Singleton had now got up, and was pre- paring to go to his room, Edward pulled down the window so as to get rid of the tobacco smoke. Then, on Mr. Singleton leaving, ho put on an overcoat, closed the door, and started out for a walk in the cool night air. BROADWAY BY GASLIGHT. 215 ^ CHAPTER XXIV. Broadway by Gaslight. YTTDWARD YAUGnEN' was yet so much of a rjf Btraiiger in Kew York that when he went ^\^ out for a stroll in the evening he generally contented liiniself with a turn or two around tho square close to his boarding place, after which he would go back to his room, where he read or wrote until it was bedtime, lie tried to be neither lonely nor homesick, but often he was both. Sometimes lie was half angry with himself for leaving the Bromptons so abruptly, for lie was genuinely fond of his Uncle Mark. The conversation with Faber and Singleton had so excited him that his customary short walk was not quite satisfactory. He therefore went as far as Broadway, where he stood for a few moments unde- cided as to what he should do next. A cable car go- ing uptown, with a few scats to spare, looked invit- ing, and in an instant he had boarded the car, which, starting with the usual but always unexpected jerk, deposited him with some abruptness in a seat near the front door, but not before he had sprawled over the long legs of a young man, knocked an elderly lady's bonnet almost off her head, and excited a gen- eral smile among the other passengers. The young man with the long legs did not smile: neither did the elderly lady with the bonnet ; but there are some M^ 216 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ])L'oplo who liavo no Bensc of liuinor; tliougli, for that inattcr, Edward did not smile, at least not just then. Uut wlien the long-le<5ged young man, wlio evidently was going somewhere on Fourteenth Street, got up before the car had turned the curve, and played the game of "pillar to post" in a most reckless way, Edward smiled with a visibility that was almost cruel. lie tried, though, not to smile when the elderly lady with the bonnet, as she rose to go out, and the car stopping with characteris- tic abruptness, was carried as by some mysterious force into the unwilling arms of the conductor, the poor bonnet faring this time even worse than before. Edward had already discovered that while, in itself, to get on or off a New York cable car may not be a remarkable achievement, yet to do either without loss of dignity or grace of attitude is an accomplish- ment which attains the standard of the highest art. It was yet early in the evening, possibly not much after nine. Crowds of people were moving about ; L'ghts streamed from the shop windows, for this par- ticular part of Broadway has all sorts of things to sell, and it sells them by gaslight as well as day- light. There were displays of fruit, the richest and most tempting to be seen in tlie city. There were also some wonderful displaj^s of flowers; people gathering around the windows, admiring not only the flowers, but the artistic way in which they were arranged. Watching his opportunity, Edward got off the car, and walked along for a few blocks enjoying the novelty and excitement of the scene, when sud- denly he came upon a group of young men, some m- BROADWAY BY GASLIGHT. 217 half dozen or so, standing on tho steps of the main entrance to a hotel. They were all dressed in tho extreme of fashion, but talked loudly and under much excitement. " Come on, Brompton," one of them said, taking another one by the arm, as though he M'ould lead him to some place to which tho other did not care to go. " What's tho use ? " replied the one addressed as Brompton, speaking thickly. "You fellows have cleaned me out. Haven't a stiver. This isn't my night. Some other night. Must excuse me." The voice, though so thick and guttural as to bo almost indistinct, Edward recognized as that of his Cousin Percy. " O, come on ! What's that got to do with it? A quiet little game, with a chance for you to even things uj) is what you want," was the reply of the one who first spoke, still holding on to Percy, and making an attempt to lead him down the hotel stej^s. " Not to-night. I know when Pv^e had enough. Some other night, when 'twill be my night, PU have it out, but Pm going home." Percy's answer was not firm, merely stubborn, which angered the other. "Mamma's boy ! going home to his mammy," he sneered, letting Percy's arm go, that he might ac- company his mocking words with contemptuous gesture. Edward was now standing near the door of the hotel, where he could see and hear everything, though in the shadow, for he did not wish Percy to see him. He was anxious to help Percy, but hardly •2: f ft 218 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. know just liow to do it. IIo saw that liis cousin was in a Ktato of almost helpless intoxication, and if left to himself would be exposed to both danger and disgrace. IIo also saw that two or three of the group were determined in some way to take advan- tage of the young man's miserable plight, lure liim most likely to some gaming den, and there fleece liim to their hearts' content. Edward noticed that these two or three were perfectly sober, while the others were nearly as helplessly drunk as Percy was. lie was determined, therefore, not to let liis cousin fall into their hands any more than he was already, for with " I. O. U.'s" and notes of liand they would make it a costly night for hie cousin. Still he thought it best not to interfere vnlcss driven to it. But Percy's wine, or whatever drink it was, had not so dulled his wits as to allow him to ignore the sneer and scornful gesture of the one who had, as he thought, grossly insulted him. Indeed, the oppo- site was the case, for in his inflamed condition he at- tached to the mocking words a significance which was never intended. The speaker, Iherefore, had barely finished his taunting sentence, before Percy had struck him a stinging blow full in the face. Coming so suddenly, as well as with passionate force, and taking the young man by surprise, it caused him to stagger back and almost fall down the hotel steps. Instantly there was a great commotion. Men rushed out from the hotel. Passers-by assembled in scores. The sidewalk and hotel steps were jammed, and in a few moments the crowd was so great as to reach well-nigh across the street. But no sooner had BROADWAY BY GASLIGHT. 219 tlio blow been struck than Edward rushed forward and with the cry, " O I CouBin Percy," ho took hold of young Bronipton, and by Bheer strength forced him within the hotel. Percy struggled and resisted to the utmost, but Edward was a tall, j)owerfully built fellow, and as it was not a question of moral Buasion, but of physical force, Percy had to yield. The crowd, seeing that there was no innnediato prospect of renewal of hostilities, disa])peared almost as rapidly as it had formed, so that with the excep- tion of a few curious stragglers the hotel and street resumed their wonted condition. The friends of the man who was struck took hold of liim, as Edward liad taken hold of Percy, only instead of bringing liim into the hotel they led him off in another direc- tion. Great excitements and great shocks will soon sober the most drunken of men. It was not long, tliere- fore, before Percy began to realize something of what had taken ]>lace. "The cad!" he muttered ;" wasn't satisfied with winning my money, but must insult me on the street. Confound him ! I'll break his neck." After a few moments he broke out again : " I believe that hound is a regular sharper. Just look here," turning his pockets inside out ; " he hasn't left me a copper. But 'tisn't the money I care about. The miserable whelp ! " In a little while some of the young men who were with Percy on the 8tei)s of th'.? hotel at the time of the row came into the room where he was with Edward. The incident, however, had not sobered 'i I If' 5 ■■i 220 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. I 4, ■I "J i them; they were not principals, only onlookers; their reckless hilarity, if anything, was, therefore, in- creased. They complimented Percy on his courage. They agreed with him in his estimate of the one whom he had struck. They insisted upon having up a bottle of wine to drink Percy's health. They made silly speeches. They sang silly songs. They acted like a lot of young fools. Finally some of them, having worn themselves out with " For lie's a jolly good fellow, Which nobody can deny," had either sobered sufficiently to go home, or being known in the hotel were given rooms for the night. So Edward, when it was almost midnight, ordered a carriage and took Percy to the Brompton mansion. Some years before, Mark Brompton, seeing that Percy was not likely to make much headway in scholarship, and liad no taste whatever for any- thing in scientific lines, proposed that he go into some business. To this Mrs. Brompton made strenu- ous objection. In a voice that was as clear as a piccolo in Alpine air she declared tliat there should be " at least one gentleman in the family." Mr. Brompton intimated that it was possible for one to be a gentleman and still to be in business. " You know what I mean, Mark," said Mrs. Brompton, still using the piccolo, though the finger- ing was not skillful. "I probably know what you mean better than you know yourself," retorted Mr. Brompton, upon whom the piccolo had an irritating effect. "I hardly see how you could know very much I' $' BROADWAY BY GASLIGHT. 221 about either gentlemen or their ways," replied Mrs. Brompton, raising the last finger of her right hand on the piccolo. When a family matter is being discussed by a bassoon and a piccolo, though tlie bassoon has a range of three octaves, the piccolo invariably comes out ahead. Janet was the only one who favored the idea put forward by Mr. Brompton, but as Ethel said : " Janet has difficulty with herrelf. Naturally she is inclined to be vulgar.*' " You sweet saint ! What a gentle, kindly way you have I With wl lilt tender delicacy you convey your feelings I " and Janet flared up in her hot, impulsive way. " But why should Percy be tied down to a desk or slave in an office when there is no need of it ? " asked Mrs. Brompton, when they were discussing the matter among themselves. " Ko need of it so far as money is concerned, but other things have to be considered. Percy would be Ycry much better ofiE if he had something to do. For some time past, a whole year or so, he has not been doing welL His rooms and mine are on the same floor. I hear him when he comes in, and he nearly always comes in late. You know that he is rarely down to breakfast. Then, too, he . icver has any money. What he does with his allowance goodness knows. I don't like to say it, mamma, but I think Percy is in a bad way." "Janet, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, talking in. this, way about your brother.. He is no 222 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. I!i ti I' If f , 1^ If i ' I ! worse than hundreds of the young men of his class. What would you have him do ? Perhaps papa could get him into Linscy & Woolsey's as floorwalker, wliere he would have a chance to associate with that girl in the cloak department of whom Madge Disney is so fond." This little speech of Ethel's thoroughly angered Janet, and when she was angry she spoke right out, irrespective of consequences. Even her mother's statcliness had not the least effect. "Better for him to be a floorwalker, earning an honest living, than to be hanging around theaters, dangling after actresses, drinldng with all sorts of people, and spending money in the most reckless, foolish way. Perhaps he is no worse than the other young men of his class. But that is not saying much. Carl Yon der Plonk was so intoxicated the other evening at the Snipkins's reception that he had to be taken home. Young Fitz Noodle got himself into such a scrape with that variety actress that his people had to send him away. And we all know what happened to Charlie Blobbs. The sooner we do something for Percy the better for him and for US as well." " Now that you have shown such an intimate ac- quaintance with your bi-dther's habits and private affairs, perhaps you would kindly suggest just what you want him to do. The least hint of yours could not but be valuable." " Ethel, I love Percy just as much as you do, per- liaps more, if it comes to that, for you are not will- ing to sacrifice any of your pride so as to really help BROADWAY BY GASLIGHT. 223 elp lum. "Why should he waste himself as he is doing now ? " " He is not wasting himself," corrected Mrs. Brompton, again having recourse to the piccolo. " He is wasting himself," returned Janet, heed- less not only of the piccolo, but of the fifth com- mandment. " He plays golf ; ho plays tennis ; he plays polo; he goes about town with a set of fast young men. At night he plays cards and billiards, and comes home at all hours, and if you don't call that wasting himself, then I don't know anything about it." It was now Mrs. Brompton's turn to be angry. T^ot that she could dispute the truth of Janet's words ; indeed, it was their simple truth which made her so angry. " It seems to me, Janet, that you have been play- ing the spy upon Percy, which in my opinion is a mean, low, contemptible proceeding. Young men will be young men. Young sinners often make old saints. But it is just as Ethel says — you would like him to be some miserable countcrjumper or pettifogging clerk. Why didn't you suggest his going over to the iron works in which your father is interested ? A place might be found for him in the yard." With this Mrs. Brompton left the room, departing in high wrath, leaving the girls to iix up matters as best they could. "Janet, you sho.^ld not annoy mamma so," Ethel said, tightening up tiiC keys of her verbal fiddle, pre- paratory to a general attack on the strings. Janet made no reply. She had no piccolo at com- i ¥ I F ill P ^ 224 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. maud like her mother. She had no keen, delicate violin such as her sister handled so skillfully. Her weapon was only a trumpet which consumed more breath than she could usually spare. So Ethel went on, bowing on the highest register : " You know that mamma will not consent to any such arrangement as papa proposes. Besides, what would the Yon der Plonks say ? or the Fitz Noodles ? If you have no pride for yourself, Janet, you should have some for the family." All this, as has been said, took place some time ago. But Percy was not put at any business. On reaching the house, Percy, after he had fum- bled in all his pockets, gave Edward his night key, with which he opened the door, and then, taking Percy's arm, helped him up stairs to his room. No one was in the hall or parlors, for it was now after midnight. A light, however, was in the library, shewing that Mr. Brompton had not retired. " Pm much obliged to you," Percy said, when after a few minutes Edward rose and was preparing to leave. " I'm ashamed of that miserable row down there, but that fellow angered me more than I could stand.'' " Have you known him for any length of time ? " Edward asked. " Not so very long, but it lias been an expensive acquaintance." Edward said nothing, having a suspicion tliat Percy had been losing money at cards. " Why, it isn't more than a month since I first met that, fellow, and he has worked me for over a thou- ive bat let )U- BROADWAY BY GASLIGHT. 225 Band dollars," said Percy, answering the question which Edward did not ask. " But, confound it all, what can a fellow do ? Here I am all alone in this big barrack of a house. Mrs. B. is always out somewhere. The Misses B. are always out some- where. Mr. B. is everlastingly busy with papers and things in the library. The only one who takes any interest in me is Janet." Edward went down stairs as quietly as he could, but on reaching the hall Mr. Brompton came out of the library. " Why, Edward!" he said, "how is this?" look- ing at him keenly, though not unkindly. "I met Percy downtown and came home with him," was the reply. Whatever suspicions Mr. Brompton may have had he kept them to himself, for his next question was : " You still like your place with Keen & Sharp ? " " More than I did at first," Edward was able to say truthfully. " Are you in the inner office yet ? " "No, Keen & Sharp evidently do not intend that I shall know much of their private business, for I am still on an outside desk." " Who has charge of your department ? " "Mr. Singleton, who, by the way, lives in the house with me." " Is he treated as a confidant ? " " I think not. Indeed, I am sure of it, for it was only the other day that he was speaking of this same thing, and complaining that the firm was managing the business very differently from what they used to." 15 m 'It m 226 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. I:i riii ** Then there have been changes in the work of the office ? " " Yes, a good many ; particularly within the past six months." " Or, in other words, since you went there," said Mr. Brompton, with a meaning look. " Edward," he said, a moment later, " I don't want you to be a spy, or in any way act dishonorably to your employers. But let me tell you something which very few people know — you are in my employment when you are with Keen & Sharp, for I am a large though silent partner in the Urni. Now, I am afraid there is something wrong. You can, therefore, serve me by keeping your eyes open. I have confi- dence in you and am willing to trust you." So the uncle and nephew parted — the one to make his way to a downtown boarding house, the other to go back to his chair in the lonely library. DICK WHITTINGTON'S CAT. 227 CHAPTER XXV. Dick Whittington's Cat. WHEN Edward Vaughen left the house of his Uncle Mark it was his intention to walk down Fifth Avenue to Fifty-ninth Street, cross over to Third Avenue, where he could take the " Elevated " to Ninth Street, which would bring hiui within a few blocks of liis home. But walking briskly, and thinking intently of what Mr. Bronip- ton had said, he was at Fifty-ninth Street in what seemed only a few minutes. He determined, there- fore, to go on down Fifth Avenue, for though the night was cool it was pleasant — just the night for a brisk walk. Nor was it late — that is, in the New York sense of lateness — for while the New York clocks synchronize with all others of the Eastern sec- tion, still the hours on Manhattan Island do not mean the same as in some other places. Now, in Eastwich, until Edward went to college, " Curfew " meant for him, as for all others in the village, the solemn departure of another day. The little children were then supposed to be fast asleep, and the young people w^ere all expected home. The grocery store put up its shutters, put out its lights, and closed its door. The houses generally were dark and still, and to be on the street after this hour would either have to be explained or open the way to unpleasant criticism. A quiet place indeed was Eastwich once nine o'clock had rung. n\ 228 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ^ The broad cliurch steps, which run tho entire length of the church front, leading up to tho ample porch with its Corinthian columns, M'herc the chil- dren gathered almost as soon as school was over, were now deserted, and the church, so white and stately, lifted itself into the mysterious shadows of the night. The pump and horse trough, which stood right op- posite the forge of Andy Smith, usually one of tho most active and populous parts of the village, gave no sign of life whatever. Nor would anyone, except a resident of the place, ever have imagined the gos- siping, the chaffering, the disputing — equine, canine, and, of the human, masculine — on this very spot an hour or two before. Occasionally a light would bo seen in the back parlor of Mrs. Paletot, which sug- gested a funeral or a wedding somewhere in the neighborhood, for which she had special orders. But as a rule Mrs. Paletot kept regular Eastwich hours. The medical establishment of the village was fairly })riniitive; still it had certain advantages over many more pretentious concerns. It was all under one roof, for the doctor kept the drug store and the drug store kept the doctor. The doctor first wrote tho prescription and then proceeded to fill it up, careful never to prescribe anything which was not in the drug store ; thus much time and trouble were pleas- antly avoided. A light was always set in the drug store window, the doctor slept in the room overhead, but this was usually the only light on the street. By ten o'clock there would not be a sound any- I '^1 DICK WHITTINGTON'S CAT. 229 wlicro in Eastwic.li except the crying of a Bick child, the bark of Boine rcKtiess dug, or the step of a be- hitod traveler, lover niost likely, hastening to hid homo. The contrast was therefore very marked as Ed- ward stood on the Plaza at Fifty-nintli Street, for it was brilliantly illuminated, aiid the big hotels which l)order on the Plaza were full of life and gayety. (carriages were coming and going. Such of the hotels as kept public cafes had large companies of ladies and gentlemen enjoying after-theater 8Uj)pers, and the scene reminded Edward very distinctly of the few weeks wliich he had spent in Paris one va- cation with John Disney. No j)lacc in Kew York, l)erhaps no i)lace in the whole world, has a greater nggregation of wealtli than this Plaz;i and its inune- diate neighborhood. In the hotels themselves the dreams of the "Arabian Nights" arc njore than re- alized, for no prince or king could maintain such establishments as these. In them is everything that the most fabulous wealth can comnumd — porticoes, with carvings in the stone worthy of a cathedral altar; staircases and corridors in Sienna marble and bronze, in which are chiseled and traced the most exquisite designs; Pompoiian billiard rooms; First Empire drawing rooms ; Versailles bedrooms, parlors, and dining rooms, after some of the daintiest inEuro- ])ean palaces. No Monte Cristo, in whose hands mil- lions were but trifles, could have devised for himself anything more luxurious than these palatial Jibodes. Within these snperb buildings are hundreds of New York's wealthiest families, permanent residents, W 'm: 230 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. who maintain their suites of apartments all the year round, living in a way that is ahnost bewildering, so rich and extravagant it is. Everytliiiig that the brain of man can suggest ; every invention which in the least measure will promote comfort and ease ; every hint of science which miglit add to health and safety ; every tint of artist's brusli ; every cut of sculptor's chisel ; every dainty touch of decorator ; hangings of silk, of lace, of rich tapestry, are all here, and in such profusion as to reveal the possibili- ties of wealth illimitable. "Whence came these colossal fortunes ? This was the question Edward Yaughen was putting to him- self as he stood within stone's throw of the huge hotels. Some of them — not all of them — may be ac- counted for. " It can be bouirht for- M Mr. Trawleigh hesitated at naming the amount, though ho knew it perfectly. " Five millions," put in Mr. Keen. " And capitalized for — " Mr. Trawleigh again hesitated. " Thirty millions," said Mr. Keen, in a calm, mat- ter-of-fact tone, as if the sum named were a mere trifle. " Can the stock be placed at that figure ? " asked Mr. Albright, rising from his chair and going over to a table, upon which some maps were spread, through which certain red lines were drawn. " Not a doubt of it," answered Mr. Keen. " Hunt & Steele, who are iu this thing with us, have so far N •**-* DICK WHITTINGTON'S CAT. 231 arranged for about a quarter of it. Dealo, Dicker ct Smart, who are also in the eyndicate, report about the same figure. Our firm has not been idle, bo the stock will sell at par right off." " How long will it remain there ? " Mr. Albright asked, still looking at the maps, and following some of the tracings with a lead pencil which he held in his hand. "Until the syndicate has disposed of its holdings," answered Mr. Keen, in the same cool, matter-of-fact way. "Brompton in this ?" asked Mr. Robb, a member of the firm of Robb & Gouge. " No ; he didn't get the chance," Mr. Keen sjiid, who seemed to be in charge of the proceedings. "Any trouble with the city ? " questioned Mr. Albright, now looking up from the maps and facing Mr. Keen. " None whatever. Our Mr. Sharp has been doing some missionary work with a few of the more noisy ones. Everything is all right." " I am afraid of it," said Mr. Wise, a careful but reputedly wealthy banker. "Here is a proposition to take property wdiich is worth in actual value five millions and put it on the market at thirty millions. Now, to make divide/ids on this enormous increase of capital we must cut down the wages of every man on the road, and some of them hardly get enough to keep body and soul together. Gentlemen, this is not the kind of business I take stock in." " Neither do I," said Mr. Albright ; " there has been altogether too much of this sort of thing." It ' I I." ii i i i f u m 232 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. Was tlio syndicate fcvmed ? It was. • • t • • • • "You think it can be done?" " I know it can be done." " You speak confidently." " Because it is practically done now." " Explain." "There is now ia hand, and in easy reach, a con- trolling interest in the road. It hasn't met its fixed charges for some years. The stock has been going down and down. We can control things when we please." " And then ? " " Reorganize ; drop out the old stockholders ; float the new certificates ; officer the road ourselves ; nuiko the biggest strike this city has known for years." Was it done ? It was. " It is a great scheme," said Mr. Furroughs. "A scheme with money in it, which is more im- portant," said Mr. Granger. " It will excite the opposition of the newspapers." " What of that ? " " These reformers and radical preachers will de- nounce it." " Let them." " It will squeeze a good many people." " What odds ? " " It will mean an increase in the price of bread." " Suppose it does ? " I L-I. Yai DICK WHITTINCTON'S CAT. 233 "Tlio poor Lavo it hard enough now, goodnesa knows." " A penny in a loaf isn't mucli." "Not to you ; it is to tho poor n»an." " You needn't go in unless you want to. This thing is going. If you want to ride, better jump on." Was it done ? It was. At whoso cost? At tlio cost of tho man who liad to pay the extra penny on his loaf. "Edward Vaughen, give an account of yourself I An hour after midnight and you wandering around the streets of New i^ork ! " It was John Disney who spoke, laying at tho same moment his hand npon Edward's shoulder. "I am looking for Whittington's cat or Aladdin's lamp," Edward answered. " New York lias not, within my time at any rate, been troubled with a scarcity of cats ; the Whitting- ton brand, though, is rare. As for lamps, tho Alad- din make is hard to get hold of." John said this as they turned from the comer and were walking down the avenue. " Strange, isn't it," Edward said, " people nearly always associate good fortune with luck or magic, and seldom witli plodding and hard work ? " " Not strange at all, my philoso])hic friend. Many of the great fortunes right round ns were not attained by patient ' plodding.' Whittington's cat or Aladdin's lamp had something to do with most of them." If 'H. n % 234 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. pl! , " Then the man who contents himself with plain, hard work doesn't stand much chance of success?" " If that man but knew it lie has found Aladdin's lamp, only instead of ghouls and goblins and all manner of strange creatures from the specter world he has spirits of life and health and peace to wait upon him. The man who has a clear eye, a cle;^n h2art, a conscience which does not need to be drugged ; who can stand on his own feet and look the world in the face — he is the successful man. The tionble is, he seldom knows it. Now, here is Edward Vanglien, a friend of mine, my college classmate, fairly good-looking, with a reasonable measure of ability ; strong, hearty, healthy, a promising career opening before him ; but because he must for the present be content with a * third floor, hall back ' in tli'j house of the esteemed Mrs. Gubbins, and cannot have an uptown hotel all to himself, I find him wan- dering discontented and distressed through the streets of New York, as unhappy as a spring poet overtaken by a blizzard, or a park policeman in a rain storm." Edward knew John too well to attempt anything by way of protest, for that would only add fuel to the flame. John therefore went on : " Now, some of these people," with a wave of his hand in the direction of certain pretcntioas houses on the avenue, " may have, for all I know, the veritable AVhittington cat or the genuine Aladdin lamp. But the cat is eternally humping itself, and is a cross, spiteful, disagreeable old thing. The lamp, more- over, only calls forth little devils of pride, avarice, DiCK WHITTINGTON'S CAT. 235 his IBS on able But rose, nore- arice, jealousy, and all the rest of them, so that the owners of the lamp are to be pitied." "But these are the successful people," Edward managed to edge in, taking advantage of a slight pause in John's oratorio flow. " Successful in wlipt ? " John asked. " Success means achievement ; it means the overcoming of dif- ficulties ; but tell me, I praj thee, thou nivn of wis- dom, what mighty genius is re(juired in finding a stray cat which turns out to be a * Wliittington,' or in tumbling over an old lamp which proves to be an 'Aladdin ? ' » " What, then, is real success ? " Edward asked, for John's mood was one with which he was perfectly familiar. Hence he dropped a question now and then, like a nickel in the slot, just to keep the ma- chine going. " Success, my respected and venerable brother, is the art of life. The newsboy who sells his papers, the peanut man who sells his peanuts, the street ped- lar who sells his suspenders and shoe laces, equally with the merchant, the banker, or the senator, may attain the highest possible success. All that anyone has to do is to live up to the measure of his abilities. A brook trout doesn't require an ocean ; a daisy can grow in a patch of ground as well as in a prairie. But here we are down to Madison Square! All good, nice little boys should be in bed. Tiie anxious soul of your dear Mrs. Gubbins will be distressed." And so tliey parted, John Disney taking a Madi- son Avenue street car, Edward Yaughen continuirg his walk, for he was now within a few blocks of hone. n a ;l 236 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. hi if W '1 I.: ■ i: V i V: CHAPTER XXVI. The Real Dr. Disney. DIXON FABER, in an irreverent way not un- common with newspaper men, referred to Mr, Singleton as " something of a politician," but Mr. Singleton was much more than a politician ; he was a philosopher. Anyone can be a politician. All that a man has to do is simply to study his own interests, and then advance them in every possible way. But it is not everyone who can be a philosopher. This requires patience, large-mindedness, and mental aptitudes of no common order. Mr. Singleton (Benj.nmin he was called at baptism; Ben he was dubl)ed when a boy at school; but now that he was full forty years of age, was quite bald on the top of his head, and had charge of a departtnent in Keen & Sharp's, he was addressed usually as Mister) was a genuine philosopher, and in Edward Vaughcn's "third floor, hall back" he often dis- coursed in the wisest wav. The rocker was his favorite scat, and when Fabcr wasn't present Mr. Singleton added to his comfort by making a foot rest of the other chair., lie had a history as w^ell as romance, the romance accountinoj for his beins: at Mrs. Gubbins's and un- married. The history he kept to himself. There was u little packet of letters, yellow, faded, in a girl's handwriting, securely locked in a tin cash box which THE REAL DR. DISNEY. 237 dis- his Mr. rest mce un- liere krl's lich he kept in one of his bureau drawers ; but whatever was written in these letters only Mr. Sinp;leton knew. " You ask," he said one evening, turning to the bed, where Edward was sitting in his free and easy way, " why there are so many failures in business. The reason is simple. It is not the business that fails, it is the men." " As a remark, that sounds well, but I confess I don't understand it," Edward said, pleasantly, for by this time he was on quite familiar terms with Mr. Singleton. " Then let me illustrate. Some people, I am sadly aware, must have things made very simple so that they can understand them. Hence I i^roceed. There is a certain iisli which, because it has pectoral fins of unusual strength and size, assumes that it can fly. At times, chereforc, it leaps out of the water, just to show how superior it is to the other fishes not so endowed. But sooner or later that leap is a sad one, for the real birds of the sea are watching for it. The result is that before the poor, vain thing can fold its wings and drop back to its natural place it is caught. True, the fish becomes fowl ; only, however, after r process of mastication." " Now, if you will only illustrate your illustration or explain your explanation I shall be much obliged," said Edward, pulling up one of the pillows which had fallen down, and trying to make himself more comfortable. " Very good. Line upon line, precept upon pre- cept. There arc those to whom even the alph;i]>et has to be graduated. So I go on. The seal lives H It ^ i li 238 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. It J'! i i I' (! partly on land, but mostly in water. But the seal makes the mistake of its life in ever leaving the water. If it knew the first thing of grace of attitude or poetry of motion it would forever abandon all claim to feet and content itself with swimming. Now, the seal, in ivs silly desire to do something which it never was intended to do, had to exhibit itself on the rocks and ice as a champion walker. The consequence was that men saw what a fine coat it had ; so since then it has been skinned without mercy." " What on earth have seals and flying fish to do with my question ? I should have thought that — " Edward was saying. " Anything in nature that does two things equally well is a freak, and does both things badly," Mr. Sin- gleton said, calmly ignoring the interruption, then proceeding with : " What need was there of Melton & Tweed going into real estate operations ? None whatever. They had a first-rate clothing business and were making a good living. But the fish would fly, and in one of its leaps landed in the Bankrupt Court." Edward was now beginning to see the drift of Mr. Singleton's mind. He listened, therefore, all the more intently as the philosopher went on. "The same thing happened to Herring & Salt. As ship chandlers they stood well on Water Street. But the seals had to get on the rocks. So they dab- bled in Western lands and two or three other things ; hence their handsome skins now adorn other but shrewder men. Mr. Edward Vaughen, do you see ? " '=*; THE REAL DR. DISNEY. 239 jut At another time, as Mr. Singleton and Edward were having one of their uf^er-dinner chats, Mr. Sin- gleton asked : " Vaughen, how many of us are in this room ? " " Only ourselves," Edward answered, in an amused way, for Mr. Singleton had been discoursing of psychology, and, as is not unusual in such cases, had got out of sight of land. " Correct, my friend ; only just define what you mean by * ourselves.' " " I mean you, Mr. Singleton ; myself, Edward Yaughen." " * Mr. Singleton ' and * Mr. Vaughen ' are merely visiting cards. My body, which you are doing me the favor of accommodating with this chair, is only an envelope. You have not yet made my acquaint- ance. I don't know anything whatever of you. The man who is sitting in this chair is a man whom you have never met ; the man who is sitting on that bed is a total stranger to me." In an indirect way these conversations relate to Dr. Disney, though it may be noticed that his name was not mentioned, neither did either of the speakers have him in mind. Things were not going well with Dr. Disney. Some of his plans, plans upon which he had spent much care, were not working out as he had hoper'.. So far as actual money was concerned — that is, money for the general needs of life — Dr. Disney should have been one of the easiest men in New York. Mrs. Disney had a good income, for her father's in- vestments were all interest-bearing. Madge and \ "I I i\ 240 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. John were altjo well provided for under their grand- father's will. His own practice was large, and one of the best paying in the city. But Dr. Disney was not satisfied. To use Mr. Singleton's figures, it was another instance of the fiying fish or the walking seal. Hence he went into all sorts of schemes. He had almost a mania for speculation. He dabbled in nearly everything! Cotton, gram, railroads, gas, mines, quarries, wero taken up one after the other, and though the doctor w^ould have been terribly shocked had he heard it, yet he was spoken of by those who operated for him as a confirmed gambler. Some of his ventures turned out well, upon which he went into otliers which turned out badly. Then he became reckless. He increased his holdings. To carry all that he was doing required a good deal of money. So he was forced to borrow, and borrow largely. This meant accommodation notes, and as he could not ask certain men to indorse his paper without being willing to indorse in return, his liabili- ties one way and another were very heavy. He had hoped for relief when Mrs. Disney would inherit her portion of the Haddon estate, but Mr. Haddon for some reason so tied rp everything that the doctor could do nothing with it. Sometimes he was in the direst straits, resorting to all manner of expedients to keep himself afloat. Then he was troubled about John. The silly notions, as he thought, of Hugh Dunbar had sadly interfered with John's life and prospects. Why couldn't he give up this folly, settle down properly, marry Miss Keen, instead of throwing himself away ? THE REAL DR. DISNEY. 241 Even Madge disappointed him. She also had come under the Dunbar influence, whereas it had been his long-cherished wish for her to become a member of the Brompton family. But did Dr. Disney show anything of the anxieties and disappointments which came one after the other and, pressing the hidden spring of his secret life, passed through the mystic door to take up their abo(!e in his heart ? Most men would have given some sign of the in- ward unrest, but Dr. Disney was the same culm, suave gentleman that he ever was, with every indica- tion of a spirit at peace with all mankind. The Disney household, w4th the exception of the doctor, have retired for the night. Dr. Disney, who has had a very busy day, is in his own room sitting by the fire. The chair he occupies looks comfortable, for, in addition to its own thick cushions, Madge has provided pillows, the covers of which she embroi dered with her own dainty hands. The room is cheerful and bright, having not only the ruddy glow of the fire, but a lamp sending out a mellow light from under a rich shade. Soft, heavy draperies, oriental in pattern and material, hang from the windows. A massive but inviting-looking lounge, upon which an afghan of Mrs. Disney's handiwork is thrown, occu- pies a nook within reach of the bookcase. On the table at which the doctor is sitting are books, papers, magazines, reviews, all cut and ready to his hand. But surely this anxious, worn-looking man, sitting 80 dejectedly in the big chair, with drawn forehead, . \ m I 242 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. I \ I If' 1 it II '«! iw compressed lips, harassed face, is not our Dr. Disney ! Ah ! this is the real Dr. Disney. At other times lie was in stage costume ; he was before the footlights ; he was merely playing a part. Here we see him as he is, as he sees himself. To-night he is going back over the years. Memory, with mysterious mechanism, is moving slides before the calcium light of conscience, and the pictures are being thrown upon the outspread curtain of his soul. Sharp, vivid, intense, these pictures are, and the figures in them not only move, but speak, and their voices are awfully distinct. He sees a young woman of some twenty years of age standing in the moonl!2;]it, but almost in the shadow of her father's house. Her face is singularly winsome ; such a play of light ; so much of real womanhood. Then he sees tears gather in her eyes and hears sobs break in her voice. "No! It is f^^possible. Nor should you have spoken as you have. Walter Disney, I never thought that you would ask me to forswear myself. You knew that I was engaged to your cousin, Fred Sauvier, and that we are soon to be married. Have you no honor, no sense of manhood ? " With a proud, angry look she turned away, leaviiig him alone in the moonh'ght. The picture dies out, but another instantly takes its place. The scene now is in his own room, three years after the one of the moonlight. His Cousin Fred, a simple, honest, but easily influenced young man, enters, pnd with pale, anxious face cries out : "Waller, I'm in great trouble! Can't you help me?" '♦ . ' ^^^ •- , THE REAL DR. DISNEY. 243 O how he hated Fred Sauvier, and in his heart had registered a cruel vow of revenge I " You indorsed his note for two tliousand dollars. Well, what of it ? '* " But you know, Walter, when Grandfather Arlow started me in business I promised him that I would not indorse notes for anyone. Now, this note is due the day after to-morrow, and it will go to pro- test." " Why can't Howell meet it ? " " The people for whom he made the goods have failed. Howell will have to i:ro under too. If I had only another week I could manage, for Bertha has some little money in New York, but I can't get hold of it in time." " That money of Bertha's sure of being on hand next week ? " " Sure. She telegraphed the agent this morning." " Grandfather Arlow keeps his account in the same bank as you do ? " " Yes." *' They know you at the bank ? " " It was grandfather who introduced me." " Then why not use grandfather's name for a week ? There is no need for him to know. Bertha's money will be here in a few days, and the note could then be taken up." *^ But, Walter, that would be forgery ! " Fred said, in a frightened voice. " Yes, I know, but men do it. I wouldn't, though. There is some risk about it — not much, but some." Careful, cunning Walter Disney ! He pushes a ! i t'l I'- .*¥.;, 244 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. lip* plank over to a drowning man, but Biiggcflts that tlioro are nails in it which may tear \m lingoiHl lliH courtin gocH out of tiio picturo, and ho boos himself carry to a typewriter in a public otlico a letter : " Dkak 8iu : A noto with your indorfloment for two thousand dollars will bo presented at your bank for discount to-morrow. If you doubt this letter make inquiries." Onco more the slides dissolve. This time ho is in a court-room. His Cousin Fnul is witliin the i)ri8- oncr's bar, for Mr. Arlow had instantly telegraphed his bankers, with the result that Fred Sauvier was arrested for forgery. Now ho liears the sentence, *' Fifteen ycare I " also a woman's heart-broken cry ; then he knows that his cousin's wife has fainted in the court room. Another slide is noiselessly moved along the holder. A stern, pitiless woman, with a face set as iron and terrible as fate, looks implacably into his. " Walter Disney, you tempted my husband. You suggested the crime which has broken his heart, desolated our home, and ruined the lives of two infant children. You have the curse of the man you have murdered, for he is now dying of remorse and shame. You have the curse of the woman whose soul you have destroyed, for I shall hate you eternally. You have the curse of my children, for I will train them up to curse you. Walter Disney, if there is a God in the universe, and if there is justice with him, a judgment w^ill come to you." THE REAL DR. DISNEY. 24S Tho picture Blowly faded out, leaving liirii with a faco tiH tlio uhIich in tho grato iirid \n» forehead bcad(!,# w 246 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. 1 ;M CHAPTER XXVII. Madge is Worldly Wise.' 71 S tho noplicw of Mark Brompton, but per- f— I hapH Htill inoro us tho friend of John Disney, X '*' ^^*^" inevitable that Edward Vaii^hen should soon find place in the social life of ^'ew York. At first MrH. I3runi})ton was not over jjleased at meeting the young man so frequently; still he was such a nice, gentlemanly fellow, never in the least presuming u])(>n his relationship; so her resentment materially declined. Indeed, there were times when she was almost sorry that she had been so anxious in tho matter of liis downtown lodgings, once even hinting to Mr. Brompton that his nephew might re- enter their household, but Mr. Brompton did not accept the suggestion. The present arrangement suited Mark Brompton, for it gave Mr. Keen tho impression that Edward was simply a poor country relation who had to be provided for. So long, there- fore, as lie remained in the family of Mrs. Gubbins it was ample proof that the relationship between uncle and nephew was one of mere blood, and noth- ing more. If Edward had been awkward, gawky, unused to the ways of society, dull, stupid, everlastingly in people's way, possibly Mrs. Brompton might not have been so willing to give him a place in her fam- ily. But that is no concern of ours. To look too MADGE IS WORLDLY WISE. 247 closely into a kliidnuHB in 08 bud as to submit u gift lioi'HO to u dental iiiKpeetion. " Well, my young friend, you seem to bo going out quite a good deal tliene days," Mr. Singleton said ono evening, as he saw Edward take out his " claw ham- mer" and proceed to array himself in evening dress. Edward smiled and nodded, after which he went over to the mirror on the bureau to enter u[)(;n the BOul-distrcHHing concern of tying his necktie. "You have lieard Madame Screcchoni warble?" Edward confessed that he had heard Madame Screechoni make some extraordinary noises ; the warbling lie would not vouch for. " You have seen the performance of the eminent Digitaliski?" "Why do you say *8ccn?'" Edward asked, even- ing the ends of liis tie, so that it would not hang lop- sided, as it was disposed to do. " Because the hearing, in the case of Digitaliski, U of small moment compared with the seeing. People get up on the seats. They crowd around the instru- ment. The whole thing is an exhibition." Edward was now having trouble with his cuff but- tons. The cuffs were stiff as sheet iron. The but- tons were of the old-fashioned order, solid and good, but not amenable to kindness. " Then you have properly admired the work of Sigiior Paletto ? " Mr. Singleton questioned as with an amused but sympathetic smile he watched Ed- ward labor with the cuff buttons. " Hang Signor Paletto ! If he would only wash his face and comb his hair — " t 248 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. L<1 4' m . "In that case you would remove liis chief claims to distinction. Ah ! now that vou have those cuff buttons disposed of, you will be more kindly." The average man when he is working his way into evening dress prefers to have his room all to him- self, for there are certain gestures, not to speak of phrases and terms, which he enjoys most in solitude. But Mr. Singleton was not only a philosopher ; he was the head of a department in Keen & Sharp's. "The other evening you met the Winks, the Jinks, and the Blinks contingents. This evening you will meet the same people, only the order of the procession will be changod. Also some of the women's gowns. But that is all there is of it. When you are as old as I am you will have got through Winking and Blinking and Jinking. Still you are not a bad-looking fellov/. Going to Yon der Plonk's?" Mr. Singleton on gring to his room locked the door, opened the liLlie cash box, took out reverently the packet of faded letters, and read until after mid- night. In the office of Keen & Sharp he was one of their most capable managers ; in the house of Mrs. Gubbins ho was a genial, cynical philosopher ; but in his own room he was Ben Singleton, whose Bweetliear+ had died nearly twenty years ago, but to whose memory he was ever loyal. Being in the same set with the Keens, Edward quite often met Miss Keen, and after a time they began to look for each other at the different func- tions. On entering a room, as soon almost as he had paid his respects to the hostess (the host in these matters is not usually of much consequence) ^■* MADGE IS WORLDLY WISE. 249 Edward would glance quickly around, and though ho was wise enough not to show it, still a deeper, glad- der light would flash in his eyes if he saw Miss Keen anywhere in the company. And then there would pass between them some mysterious sign of recogni- tion, a smile of the broken sixpence order, divided about evenly. When they had opportunity to speak with each other it was not so nmch what was said which made their conversation interesting, but rather an under- tone of sympathetic relationship. Once in a crush at the Bromptons', when the young people were glad for a little while to sit on the stairs, Edward managed to get on the same step with Miss Keen. By ac- cident their hands touched, but somehow that touch made Edward's blood fairly tingle. Miss Keen pos- sibly had herself in more perfect control ; still there was a look on her face which was not there before. Knowing of the close business relations between Mr. Brom])ton and Mr. Keen, also that Edward Yaughen was Mark Brompton's nephew, the Go- tliamites generally allowed the young people a fair measure of latitude. Still there were those who studied the situation with much interest. " John," said Madge, after this gathering at the Yon der Plonks', for which we saw Edward array himself, when they were having one of their confiden- tial confabs, " iiave you observed how very devoted the * unearned increment ' is to Rhea Keen ? " "No," answered John, going over to t'le rack for his pipe, for this was John's snuggery. 1 , i 1 t II i III idll II If' 250 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. *' "Well, I have," said Madge, unfastening her gloves, and makixig herself very much at home in what John called " Madge's chair." " You must admit," replied John, going on v^ith the filling of his pipe, a work with him of some delib- eration, " that Edward Vaughcn has good taste, for Miss Keen is a very attractive girl." " The taste I am prepared 'o admit, for Hhea Keen, to my thinking, is one of the few really beautiful women in our set. The judgment, however, I am disposed to question." " In what way ? " asked John, now prepared to go into the question on its merits, for his pipe was well started, his chair was just at the right distance from the lire, and there were few things he more thor- oughly enjoyed than a bright, breezy chat with his lively sister. " Edward Yaughen has no money," Madge an- swered in a tone of profound conviction, emphasizing her statement of plain fact by a look of ahnost un- natural seriousness. " And what has that to do with it ? " John asked, with an air of genuine surprise, for Madge was usually free from mercenary motives. "A great deal. Mr. Keen has other plans for Rhea. He is one of the most ambitious men in the city. Mark my words," this with great impressive- ness, the emphasis strengthened by a fairly vigorous use of the right liand, in which Madge held her gloves, " when Mr. Keen begins to suspect anything he will put a stop to it in short order." "But Yaughen isn't going to marry Mr. Keen, MADGE IS WORLDLY WISE. 251 nor Miss Keen either, for that matter, for lie is only beginning, and probably hardly earns enongh to pay his way. But why Mr. Keen should interfere does not just occur to me." It must be confessed that John was a little bit dis- appointed at the worldly wisdom of his sister. " It will occur to jou before long, for I tell you, John Disney, that Mr. Keen will interfere, and that, too, in the most vigorous way." This time Madge brought down the gloves on the palm of her left hand with considerable energy. " And yet why should he ? " persisted Jolm after a few moments' silence, during which time he nursed his pipe into a state of more visible combustion. " Edward Yaughen is a clean, honest, manly fellow. He comes of a good family. lie is a thoroughbred. I know him through and through. Now, simply be- cause he hasn't yet ' made his pile,' why a man like Keen will throw him over and give his daughter to some man without honor or character to me is not merely incomprehensible, but — " " That may be, John, but Mr. Keen is no worse than other men. You remember how Mr. Blobbs interfered between Fanny and Sidney Davenant, so that finally everything was broken off, Fanny at length marrying Mr. Hyde, the rich leather man, who was old enough to be her grandfather." " Yes, I remember it, and Fanny Blobbs was a fool for doing it. There are times when a daughter owes something to herself. When a woman does what Fanny Blobbs did I am not certain that even * fool ' is strong enough to cover the case. I know 'ii i 252 . DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. 1^' Sidney Davenant, and if Fanny had married him she would have been a much happier woman than she is now. I met her the other day ; it was on Fifth Avenue near Madison Square. I hardly knew her, she was so pale and old-looking. But I have no sympathy to waste on her." Nevertheless in his heart John pitied Fanny Blobbs, though he was provoked with her. " That is all very well, John, but what else could Fanny do ? Sidney Davenant had nothing to o."'''^^ her, and, brought up as she had been, it would have been folly for her to think of making a home with him." " Nothing to offer her I A healtliy, wholesome, strap- ping fellow, with a heart full of love, a mind full of ambitions, and a future as certain as to-morrow's sun. Do these things count for nothing in the esteem of such women as Fanny Blobbs ? "What had old Hyde to offer her? A big warehouse full of leather, and when you have said that you have said all there is to say." " Meantime, what of Edward Yaughen and Rhea Keen ? " Madge asked, for they were more on her mind than Fanny Blobbs and her leather man. " The best thing is to let tliem manage this business themselves. It may not be as serious as you think. Vaughen is disposed to be romantic. He always was. As for Miss Keen, she knows what she is doing. You need have no anxiety on her account. But I hope Yaughen won't get in beyond his depth. You don't meet fellows of his type every day." "But, John, it seems to me you are prejudiced against Rhea Keen. Now, you stand up for Edward Yaughen, so I mean to do the same by Rhea." MADGE IS WORLDLY WISE. 253 "That is right, Madge, but Miss Keen can get along without any special help. She may do any amount of high thinking, but not much plain living ; and if it comes to a choice as between Edward Vaughen and shekels she will take the shekels." " John, you are mistaken." "Madge, I don't think I am." And so they separated, each convinced that the other was wrong. " Rhea," said Mr„ Keen that same evening, after their return from the Yon dcr Plonks, " that clerk of mine seems disposed to be quite friendly. I noticed him fairly attentive to you." " You refer to Mr. Yaughen ? " said Rhea. "I mean Mr. Yaughen, of course," Mr. Keen re- sponded, with an irritation which was very palpable. "You would not expect mo to be rude to Mr. Brompton's nephew?" Rhea answered, an answer which fully justified John Disney's remark that she was perfectly able to take care of herself. "There is a very great difference between rude- ness and encouragement," Mr. Keen replied, for he felt that his daughter had discovered the weak place in his armor. "Papa," said Rhea, "when Mr. Brompton's nephew is considerate enough to treat mo as a lady expects to be treated by a gentleman am I to reward him by intentional discourtesy ? " "You are altogether too provoking.," said Mr. Keen, now quite angry, for he saw that he was overmatched. " Kot provoking at all. Merely definite and prac- tical," answered Rhea, and the conversation ended, ■I 254 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. I I Hi i I .)!' CIIAPTEK XXVIII. The Mysterious Consultation. ^t NEW curate had come to St. Elijah's ; conse- f— I quently Miss PoUok's heart beat high with J[ hope, for though he was of a certain maturity of years he was unmarried. And now that the brewer's widow was no longer in the way, who knows what may happen ? Miss Pollok determined, there- fore, to resume some, if not all, of her former duties, and as a first step in this noble resolve she entered vig- orously into the work of the chapel Sunday school. It was, of course, a mere coincidence that the new curate was in charge at the chapel. But such enthusiasm as hers could not be restrained in any formal service. Ilen^'ie she attacked the piano in the parlor of Mrs. Gubb.ins, and with its help voiced her joy and hope in wondrous melody. It must be confessed that the effect on the house- hold was somewhat depressing, and Miss Pollok had the parlor all to herself. Her heroic attempts to reach the altitudinous tcn-mination of "The Maiden's Prayer " deserved recognition, and the pathos with which she gave " O Promise Me " was unmistakable. Still the parlor remained a sacred inclosure, across whose portals none would dare to step. The artist, ever the true gentleman, occupied the room overhead. Ko sooner did Miss Pollok begin *' Some Day, Somewhere " than he would move 11 1 THE MYSTERIOUS CONSULTATION. 255 e softly to and fro, lest he might disturb her, after which he would be seen on the stairs, stepping quietly down, then going out, not to return for some hours. Mr. Wright, who had the room next to that of the artist, was not so fine in his grain, for he would tramp about in the most reckless way, finally pound- ing down stairs, and pulling the door after him with an energy entirely unnecessary. Mr. Faber, being on the tioor higher up, could not hear with the same distinctness as either Mr. Wright or the artist ; and as there is nothing more tantalizing to a fine musical taste than to get only snatches and stray measures, he would close his door, preferring to shut the music out altogether when he could not have it in its completeness. Mr. Singleton was not musical at all — philosophers seldom are. He therefore spoke of the performance in the parlor in a way that was certainly irreverent, if not profane. As for Edward Yaughen, when he had a spare evening now and then he devoted most of it to writ- ing to his mother, but Miss Pollok's music was neither soothing nor inspiring. lie kept on bravely, but when he wrote, " the thing is horrible," right in the midst of a description of a dress which Madge Disney had worn the night before, one that he par- ticularly admired, and at another time put in, " will she never stop?" when he was referring to the gath- ering at the Yon der Plonks', he thought it wise to give up writing for that evening. Accordingly he put his papers aside, pulled on his overcoat, and went out, slowly and carefully, Ik .vever, for Edward was I / 256 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. \,i I M.I I! too considerate to disturb Miss Pollok, who just then was plaintively warbling " Left Blooming Alone." Having been uptown quite a' good deal in tho evenings, Edward thought that a walk through the business section would afford him the opportunity of contrastining from the Bridge falls in with the streams r uiing and go- ing from the Jersey ferries, what an aniu^ing number of people are going either onr way or the other way I But Edward could walk now as rapidly as he pleased, for the crowds had utterly disappeared. The only signs of active life were in Newspaper Row, where lights were streaming from the windows in the tall buildings and the papers were being prepared for the morrow. So deeply did Edward feel the contrast that he re- solved to go down to the street where Keen & Shar}) had their offices, so he turned off Broadway at Wall Street and walked through to the street where these offices were. How quiet everything was ! He could hardlv realize that these were the same streets through which he had walked only a few hours be- fore. They seemed uncanny. It was unnatural that they should be so empty and still. Edward felt as if he were in a dream. 17 <« 258 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. i: I I ! \' l\ The high buildings lifted themselves into the silent night like the walls of some mighty fortress, witli doors securely bolted and burred, lie looked for the erowds of eager, anxious men, but none could be seen, lie listened for the noises of the beating foot- steps, but none could be heard. The arena was de- serted. The gladiators had retired. The amphi- theater was empty. The hope, the eagerness, the ambition, the strife, which during the day were so manifest, had departed. Nothing remained but shadows. lie soon came to the building of which Keen ik Sharp occupied the first floor, intending to simply glance at it and pass on, but seeing a bright light in the inner office he went over and looked in. This he did not out of curiosity merely, for he remem- bered Mr. Singleton telling him that during excit- ing times on the " Street " the partners would remain in the office all night planning for the strife of the coming day. But to his surprise, on glancing through the window, he saw not only Mr. Keen and Mr. Sharp, but Dr. Disney. Dr. Disney evidently had just arrived, for, though his hat was on the table at which the stenographer usually sat, he had not re- moved his overcoat, and was standing, taking off his gloves in that graceful, deliberate way in which he did everything. What this visit meant Edward could not possibly imagine. Of all men Dr. Disney, and at this hour I He had never heard Dr. Disney's name mentioned in the office. So far as Edward knew, it was not on the books of the firm. He could not, therefore, connect M THE MYSTERIOUS CONSULTATION. 259 him with any moveinent or speculation in which Keen & Sliarp would be likely to engage. Surely iio wa8 not there on profesbional businebs. Edward was completely nonplused. The clock on old Trinity now struck ten, and as Edward was too much of a gentleman to wait or spy, he went back through Wall Street out to Broadway. He admitted that the circumstance was a strange one. Seeing Mr. Keen reminded him of lihea, thougli ho did not require such remembrance, and as he went up- town in a cable car it was Rhea he thought of. Still now and then he wondered at seeing L)r. Disney in the office at that hour. " The situation is critical, but the chances are in our favor," Mr. Keen said, in reply to a question of Dr. Disney. " I had hoped that by this time our chances would have become certainties," answered the doctor. "And they would," put in Mr. Sharp, " but there was some countermining on the part of the enemy." "You mean by this that some other parties are after the same combination ? " questioned the doctor, a shade of very perceptible anxiety crossing his face. " That is just what I mean," replied Mr. Sharp. "And the trouble is, we cannot find to what extent the countermining has been carried on." " Then the chances are not so distinctly in our favor as Mr. Keen seems to imply ? " was the doctor's next question, the anxiety deepening on his face and even sounding in his voice. " Mr. Keen is very hopeful ; more so, naturally, than I am. This is a big scheme. If it goes through I \\ h\ 'i k- 'iji I I 260 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. all right wo will iiiako a whole pot of money. But I havo had my doubtH all along." Mr. Sharp i)iilli3(l uiit a drawer in the desk close at Ids hand, took from it a cigar, hut did not light it, contenting hinjKelf with holding it in his munth and cliewing the end in a way that waa mure vigorous than pi(;turcsquc. " Have you any suspicions jjr to wlio the party or l)arties are who are in this ^countermining' busi- ness ^" The doctor had rcccained somothincc of his com- posurc, and asked this (question in his usual bland way. "We have," answered Mr. Keen, "and that is where the situation is unpleasant. JVIark Bromptou is the man who is making the trouble." "Mark Bromptou!" exclaimed Dr. Disney, rising from his chair in great excitement. " How did he ever get hold of it ? " " How does he get hold of everything ? " Mr. Keen said, almost savagely. " I confess that he beats me even at my own game." " There was nothing said in the office ? " the doctor asked. " Not a word. "We have kept the thing a dead secret. IIow Bromptou got wind of it is more than we can make out." Mr. Sharp spoke with consider- able emphasis, for he was plainly anxious as to the outcome of the affair. " You have young Vaughen in your office. He is Brompton's nephew. He may have heard some- thing." ' THE MYSTERIOUS CONSULTATION. 961 Dr. Disney liad the utmost confidence in Keen & Sharp doing their best to keep this thing a secret. Still some one had j)h»}'ed the spy. "Yes, Vanghen is >vith us. You know our rela- tions to Mr. Brompton. Well, he wanted a place for this nephew, so we made an opening and run hiii. in. Jiut he is not in Mark Uromptun's confidence, for ho boards somewhere downtown, while Mrs. ]]roinptou gives him shoulder a lafntjfju'. JJesides, lie is not in our confidence." " Is there anything we can do ? Mark Brompton is dangerous. If he knows we arc in this thing he will ruin us;" and as the doctor spoke his voice was husky, so great was his anxiety. "Can't you, as Bi'oinpton's physician, tell him that he is overdoing? Work some kind of a nervous gag. Advise him to take a trip to Europe. Get him to give up business for a time. Threaten him with heart failure, and all that sort of thing." Mr. Sharp made these suggestions in a light, flip- ])ant way, so that the doctor might regard them as ])leasantries. But in liis heart Mr. Sharp was neither light nor flippant. Dr. Disney nuide no reply. lie could not make tli<' reply which his professional honor denuuided. Til se men held his signature for an amount which he dare not lose. Virtually he was in their power, and 60 Mr. Sharp's words stung him almost' beyond en- durance. Quick as lightning his thoiiglus tlashed back to that time, now over twenty yea:;- ago, when he suggested an even greater crime to ciu? who carrd to him for help, and he could see the horror-stricken I ( l^'ii'l. 11''.* H VH 262 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. face of Fred Sauvier as lie answered, " But, Walter, that would be forgery ! " And now after all these years he is asked to per- jure himself, to break the sacred oath of his profes- sion, and for the sake of a false, wicked pride dis- honor liis position as the trusted adviser of Mark Brompton. In what way would such advice differ from the course of the midnight thief who holds the saturated sponge over the mouth and nostrils of the sleeper, drugging him into almost deathly uncon- sciousness, and then robbing Mm of his goods? And so it had come to this ! The very mention of such a thing was a crime. But his lips were sealed, for he dare not break with Keen & Sharp. Tliere was too much at stake. But wherever he looked around the office of Keen & Sharp lie saw the pale, anxious face of Fred Sauvier. He could see it look- ing from the map which hung ov^er one of the desks. He could trace it in the rug before the fireplace. And with the face he could hear, "But, Walter, that would be forgery ! " !N'othing more of any moment was said, and just as the Trinity Church clock was striking eleven Dr. Disney left the office and went uptown. ' , i ■ ,m JOHN DISNEY'S SCHEME. 265 CHAPTER XXIX. John Disney's Scheme. OIS'CE upon a time, a long, long time ago, there was a man "who was very much pleased with himself. He was also equally satisiied with the results of certain of his undertakings. He therefore resolved that when the right time came he would go in for a regular course of pleasure, and enjoy the good things with which he was so abun- dantly favored. Unfortunately, however, when the time arrived for this enjoyment the man's energies and vital forces had all been expended, so that while he retained the desire for ease and merriment he had no capacity for either. The consequence was that the man had no further reason for living, so he died with an abruptness that was startling. Kow, here was Mark Brompton, getting really nothing out of hfe, except the grim sense of satisfac- tion which comes from mastery. In a hand which was like iron he had taken the world bv the throat. With a strong, resolute voice he had demanded pay- ment even to the last farthing. And the world paid him in full, but it had ample revenge, for it took more out of him than he had taken out of it. He had made money, but he had unmade himself. Ho was what some people call rich, but what wiser people call poor. What he had was not his, strange as it may seem. He did not own his money ; his 1 1 266 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. money owned him. He could buy pictures, any number of them, and lie did ; but he had no soul with which to interpret them. By the simple writing of a check he could purchase a whole library, but the books had no message other than their bindings. IMusic was not even the least distressing of sounds, for when Ethel played or Janet sang, though the one played superbly and the other liad a rich, vibrant voice, to him it was only unmeaning noise. On Sunday mornings, with fair regularity, he went to church, but he got nothing from either service or sermon. And how could he, for he had no interest \A'hatever in the things for which churches are presumed to stand? lie was not a pagan, for he hired one of the best pews in Dr. Bland's church ; his name also appeared well up on the list of subscribers to missions in Patagonia and Timbuctoo. Such a thing, however, as personal re- sponsibility never once occurred to him. Move- ments like the one led by Mr. Dunbar excited his hardly disguised contempt. His home life was ab- solutely barren. All possibilities of love and tender- ness he had put aside. The romance, the poetry, the glad, sweet hopes which redeem life from utter sor- didness, he had crushed as flowers under the ruthless feet of his ambitions. He treated Mrs. Brompton with respect, of course, but in no way did she touch iii* lioart • • enter the mysterious depths of his being. For his children he entertained much the same fe<'!lnc; as a godiath':: is supposed to have. He ad- luirpd EtUel for h^r beauty. He was quite inter- eskd h: me :'rlea of her marrying young Yon der m ^ 1 JOHN DISNEY'S SCHEME. 267 Plonk. lie liked Janet. Sometimes lier frank, fear- less tongue did not please him. He did not trouble himself very much about Perc}'. Percy was fond of yachting; he cared nothing for yachts. Percy liked horses, and would often go to the races ; he had no in- terest in horses, and held races in contempt. Percy was disposed to play the role of the man about town ; this he thought only a slight remove from idiocy. Now, when you take a man who has no love in his heart, no uplifting, inspiring motives in l.'is 8oul, no interests outside those of his office, it is difficult to see just what life means to such a man, or what pos- sible good he gets out of it. " Mr. Brompton," said John Disney one evening in Mr. Brompton's library, '^ I have come to ask your advice and assistance." ''Your note suggested as much," replied Mr. Brompton, but without any special Chcouragement in his tone. lie liked John Disney, but there was a vein of romance in the young man with which he had small sympathy. " The special matter which prompter me to solicit this interview was that I miojht consul, vou concern- ing my own career," John answered, ^' ithmore hesi- tation than was usual with him. " In what way can I serve yoi ?'* Mr. Brom|> ton spoke just as he would in the office — direct, abrupt, curt. " I have concluded to go into some kind of busi- ness, and I thought you might help me." John was finding it hard work t-^ talk to Mark Brompton. He bad met him a number of times, || 268 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. I I i'M but always socially. Now that lie was talking busi- ness and asking a favor the footing was very ditler- ent. " Is not this contrary to your father's wishes ? My understanding was that you would enter his pro- fession." Still nut the least show of interest ; the voice exactly the san:ie as with Mr. Jones at his own desk. " My father was disappointed at first. Of late, liowever, when we have talked about this lie has rather favored my plan." "What is your plan ?" "I really haven't any, other than to get into something which will give me an idea of business, and at the same time come into contact with work- ing people." Mr. Brompton's face hardened. An unpleasant light gleamed in his eyes. Ilis lips curled in a way that was almost contemptuous. " You are asking something beyond my power to grant," he said, very curtly. " But I don't want any position of trust or respon- sibility ; just some common kind of work in one of your mills or shops." John spoke so earnestly and with such evident de- sire that Mr. Brompton looked at him sharply. "Some of Mr. Dunbar's notions?" he tartly sug- gested. "No. Mr. Dunbar has had nothing to do with this. AVe have not even spoken on the subject." "What, then, put such a notion into your head? Young men with your training and advantages usu- JOHN DISNEY'S SCHEME. 269 ally aspire to somothiiig higher than working in foundry yards or niuchine shops." " The notion has boon in my head for a long time," John answered, frankly. ^* You see, up there at col- lege we heard a great deal about wluit is called the * social problem.' Professors who never saw the in- side of a workshop, and who know nothing whatever of the real life of the peoj^le, used to talk in a very profound way of the new social conditions, and all the rest of it. Then the men in their rooms would take the matter up, talking what to me was non- sense. None of them, either professors or students, had any practical knowledge of the subject. I used to laugh at them, the professors r-ipt^cially, for tliey should have known better. It seamed a ridiculous thing for men who never did a day's work iii their lives, and who had no business ex])erience whatever, to go on discussing such a question as this. But I made up my mind, if I ever got a chance, to go into the matter for myself, as it would help me to decide upon my own future. My grandfatlier, as you know, left me a little money, not n'luch, still enough for present purposes. And now that I am free, and not cpiite clear as to what line of business I may take up, I thought this would be a good time to work out my experiment." Mr. Brompton listened with much interest, look- ing closely all the while at John. Though his face was always stern and set, there were times when an ex{)ression almost kindly came upon it, like sunlight on a rugged mountain. This statement (tf John's impressed him. It was not such a I'omantic under- 270 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. f: *; I t III y "^ taking, after all. As he saw it, this was eiinplj a close investigation such as any wise man of business would encourage. After a short pause he said : "This everlasting discus^sion of the * social ques- tion,' ji "«»|)le call it, by men who don't know what tliey are talking about is a serious injury to the business of the country. In college you say the pro- fessors talked about it. As most of the college pro- fessors are well-mean inir, iuulTensive men in them- selves, their talks would not do any harm. But newspapers get hold of these things. Then agitators take them up. The next thing the workmen them- selves are talking about them. After this come strikes of one kind and another, keeping business un- settled all the time. If men knew what thev were talking about it would not be so bad. One thing I like aboi.t Dr. Bland — he does not bore us every Sunday wli) I tiresome harangues on the 'Kesponsi- bilities of Wealth ' or the ^ Duties of Employers ' and such stuff. A few Sundays ago, when he was away somewdiere, an apostle of the new order held forth on the ' Wrongs of thri Poor,' making out that we were to blame for the present state of things. What did he know about it ? Nothing whatever. He re- minded me of a tonguefish floundering about in muddy water." This little speech seemed to relieve Mr. Brompton of much of the bad feeling which he had wlien the conversation opened, so much so that he even smiled upon John in quite a friendly way. But words are queer things. Sometimes they go JOHN DISNEY'S SCHEME. 271 lip like a rocket, coming down ngairi in showers of variegated light, while at otlicr times they will rii.-h Into the sky with a great noise, only to end in smuke and sound. When properly understood words iire only poles ni)on which to string the wires of our thought, not fla<'stalls for the disi)lav of mental Luntin<^ o It/ o Kow, all the time Mr. Broniptun was speaking John Disney, though listening to every word, was making applications very different from those whieli the speaker intended. lie thoi ght of the slrck, well-fed, complacent congregations who gathered every Sunday in the church where Dr. JJland nn'n- istered with such eminent favor. Then ho thoudit of the hundreds of plain, common people who attend- ed the Mission church of Hugh Dunbar. And then he thought of the great gulf which separated the one company from the other, a gulf wider and deeper than in any other city in tlic world. But John did not give Mr. Brompton any inkling of his thinkings. There arc times when a close blockade upon the mouth is scientiiic warfare, and when silence rises to the diii:nitv of statesmanshii). Mr. Brompton, looking at John from under his shaggy eyebrows, never once suspected that behind that quiet face of his there was going on a process of thinking just the very opposite of that which he de- sired. Such, liowevcr, was the case. Mr. Bromp- ton was now quite disposed to help John, and on the following Monday John Disney was installed as as- sistant timekeeper in the Hematite Holling Mills and Tubal-Cain Machine Shops, a concern in which Mark Brompton was a large stockholder. i I f 272 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. > ;1 li I I Tliat same Mondiiy evening when Fred Simvlcr returned to his liomc, and when he, with Oberta, as was their custom every evening, went over the af- fairs of the day, he spoke in glowing terms of his new assistant. "Handsome and unmarried," he said, glancing mischievously at Oberta. " IIow do } oil know ? " a very natural question of Oberta' s, seeing she was a woman. " First from my eyes, for lie is tall, well formed, not so fine in face as Mr. Dunbar, but more rugged and manly-looking, with a pair of eyes that can cut leather, and about as shapely a head as ever sat on a man's shoulders." '' Your description has my approval, and you say he is unmarried." The look which Oberta returned to Fred as she said this was brimful of mirth, sharing part of it with Mrs. Sauvier, who listened with nmch enjoyment to the lively chat. " I say it because he told me so himself, and I pre- sume he knows ; still these are the davs of the * new woman,' so that a man may bo married and not know it." " Speak for yourself, Fred Sauvier ! Wlio are you to talk of the ' new woman ? ' Kemember that I am in * suits and wraps ' in the well-known house of Linsey & "yVoolsey, where every day the *new woman' appears in state. But let the ^new woman' alone. It is the new man I am interested in." "He is a gentleman." " Handsome, unmarried, and a gentleman ! Then I JOHN DISNEY'S SCHEME. 273 why has lio becunio your assistant at the Hematite Kolling Mills? The plot thickens, the mystery deepens ; hurry up, Fred, with the rest of it ; there must be a romance somewhere." " Probably there is, but so far I haven't seen any- thing of it." " Fred, you are most unsatisfactory. ITerc are mother and I just dying to know all about this dis- tiuguislied stranger, and you just drop a word or two like a stingy farmer feeding corn to his chickens." "Some evening I may bring him down hereto see mother — an evening when you are actained at the store." "Fred Sauvier! if you do anything so mean I will disown you ; I will disinherit you ; I will leave my estates to an institution for Distressed and Afflict- ed Sisters. No, sir ! No store for me the evening when the * paragon' is here. And even if I take half of my department *liome on approval' I will be arrayed as Solomon never dreamed of. Mean- time won't you tell us his name?" " Tlis name is Disney, John Disney. He said his father was a doctor, uptown somewhere. But what ails mother? Oberta, quick ! " but without waiting for Oberta Fred sprang to his mother's side, only in time to save her from falling to the floor. In an instant he had carried her to the lounge, where Oberta bathed her forehead, also sprinkling her face with water. After a time she returned to conscious- ness, opening her eyes in a dazed, bewildered way. Fred knew notliing of the former attack when Sister Nora mentioned Dr. Disney's name, but Oberta 18 iif- IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I Hi 125 m m ■ 2.2 ^ lis. 12.0 I' i 1.8 — - ^% E^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 (716) 872-4503 274 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. remembered and wondered what it meant But slie was careful not to say anything to Fred, for natu- rally he was anxious about his mother. Oberta put him off with such replies as cariie to her, finally re- tiring earlier than usual, that she might keep closer watch over Mrs. Sauvier, who had fallen into a heavy but restless sleep. It was a dismal ending to an evening which started 80 well i! >1 MADGE VISITS THE MISSION. 275 CHAPTER XXX. Madge Visits the Mission. TOTAL depravity is the totality of nonsense. Because some men are lad, therefore all men are bad, is the insanity of logic. That a man who has weaknesses and failings is incapable of real good is more than a fallacy — it is a lie. Gold is not mined in chunks. The best of grain has wrappings of chaff. Apples grow on trees, and the trees are nearly always scraggy, scrawny, miserable affairs. Hugh Dunbar was finding out these very tilings, deriving, too, much hope and comfort in the discov- ery. Men whom he approached with the desire of securing their cooperation in his work did not all turn away with the indifference of Mark Brompton. Far from it. Some of them gave generously of their means; nor were they content with this, but gave something of much greater value — their sympathy and presence. Women who stood high in the social world were glad to have a share in the work of Sister Nora. There is something in nearly everyone which admires heroism and self-sacrifice. When it became known, then, that Hugh Dunbar, for the sake of the neglected thousands on the East Side, had voluntarily resigned a life of ease, actually making his homo among the people whom he served, there was a gen- erous recognition of his fidelity to duty. There were many who thouglit that the sacrifice was needless, 276 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. that his conscience was overstrained, and his sense of duty too sorious by far. Still, no one could question his motives or doubt the principles under which he acted. Sister Nora retained her elegant home on Fifth Avenue, for she had by no means withdrawn from society, but a great deal of her time was given to the Mission. Several of her intimate friends entered heartily into many of her plans, sharing sympathet- ically in her enthusiasm. The result of all this was quickly felt in the Mis- Bion itself, for while there was no parade or display of wealth there was an ability to meet the growing needs of the work. A large Mission house was built and fitted up with generous care. Quarters were provided for reading rooms, children's play rooms, drill rooms, gymnasiums, bathing rooms, halls for general entertainment, and the great building was occupied in every part. Hugh Dunbar had no use for mere temperance harangues — idle denunciations of the saloon, but pro- viding nothing by way of counter attraction. Once he said to John Disney, who was discussing the matter with him : " The rich man drinks in his club ; the poor man drinks in the saloon. The one gets drunk on wine ; the other gets drunk on whisky. The one makes a beast of himself where the floors are covered with carpet ; the other where the floor is cov- ered with sawdust. The only difference is that the club keeps open on Sunday, while the saloon is sup- posed to be closed." " But the evil of the one does not justify the evil of the other," John very properly replied. MADGE VISITS THE MISSION. 277 " Then remove the evil from both, leaving in each case tliat which is good. But let there be no dis- crimination in favor of the rich man's club as against the poor man's saloon." On this principle Dunbar proceeded, so that a part of the Mission building became in reality a working- men's club. The experiment amjily jnstiticd itself, for scores, even hundreds, of men of the Silas Smithers type spent many of their 6i)are evenings in this club. Dunbar was just as radical on the subject of amuse- ments, lie had too generous an appreciation of life to imagine that young peojile would content them- selves with twirling their thumbs all evening, after a hard, grinding day in some noisy shop or crowded workroom. Such puritanic notions were not to his mind. They might be safe, certainly they were silly ; anyhow they belonged to a past age. Hence he went ahead with his own plans. Of course he was criticised — sharply, bitterly, un- kindly. All manner of things were said about him. Dear little men, pious little men, even good little men, would condole with each other, every tim6 they met, over the daring irreligiousness of this frank revolutionist. But Mr. Dunbar went on just the same. When a clergyman is young, handsome, and rich — particularly rich — he can afford himself a large measure of independence. Hugh Dunbar could afford this luxury ; but, better still, he lived up to the utmost extent of his privilege. One bright Sunday morning — and when New York undertakes to furnish a bright Sunday mom- 273 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. iiig it Bupplies the genuine article. The air may not be quite so clear as at Eastwich. The blue in the sky may not be as deep, nor reach away so far be- fore the wandering eye. In Eastwich one can hear the lowing of the cattle in the meadows, the song of the birds in the trees, the hum of life which rises out of the ground, the rustle of the leaves as they arc played upon by the myriad-fingered wind, and yet amid all a Sabbath stillness rests upon everything. The stream which throws itself over the rocks down by the paper mill is less noisy than on other days. The horses in the mill stables stand in their stalls with the solemnity of a Scottish kirk elder of the olden time. The bell from the white-painted church with the Corinthian columns sends out its mellow notes far across the listening hills, only adding to the holy quiet of the place. The cemetery, so beautifully calm on other days, now seems to be resting under the hush of eternity. But while in "New York we cannot have this ex- pressive stillness, for there are too many of us to be all quiet at the same time, yet there are Sunday mornings when even this great city seems under a spell of rest and peace. It was on one of these mornings John Disney said to Madge : " Suppose this morning we go to the Mission, then after service take lunch with Dunbar. You know we have been promising this for a long time." By this time we have all discovered that Madge Disney was a fairly easy and self-possessed young lady ; not so stately as Ethel Brompton, not so ter* MADGE VISITS THE MISSION. 279 ribly frank as Janet, not so cold as Anita Yon dcr Plonk, but as well balanced as any of tliein. How, then, happened it that the simple mention of Hugh Dunbar's name affected her as it did ? Wo admit that the effect was felt more than seen, re- minding one of an inward and spiritual grace rather than an outward and visible sign. An onlooker, after John had made his suggestion, might have seen her eyes shine ; but it must be remembered that her eyes were always bright. A little bit of color might also be noticed ; but anyone's color may heighten at times. But there was something the onlooker could not see — a peculiar heart throb ; a quick, keen sense of delicious pain ; a soul tumult, as if the spirit, like a bird, was frightened in its cage and was fluttering helplessly against the imprisoning wires. Up to the time of her first meeting with Hugh Dunbar, on that eventful Saturday afternoon nearly a year ago, it was tacitly understood between the Brompton and the Disney households that Madge and Percy in due time would arrive at an understanding mutually agreeable. In many respects Percy Brompton would have been an admirable husband for Madge. Under her guidance and with her ambitions as an incentive Percy might have developed into something really worthy. But it is always unfortunate when a woman ca'mot look up to a man as a lover, for she rarely ever can look up to the same man as a husband. The woman who is conscious of her superiority at the start seldom loses that consciousness. Now this in 280 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. itself may be a pleasant feeling, but it is not love in anything like its highest form. Love is a passion, a splendid passion, honoring the one to whom it gives itself. It carries that one to the mountain heights of the soul ; the sky of the heart is flooded with trans- figuring light, and in that light the loved one lives with a glory almost divine. But Madge could not do this with Percy Brompton. And now that Hugh Dunbar had come into her life, to think of Percy as more than a mere friend was impossible, for there was something singularly attractive about Hugh Dunbar. He was unlike — altogether unlike — the other young men of her acquaintance. His un- selfishness, his devotion to his work, his fearlessness, his strength of character, she could not but recognize, so that he had come to be a very prominent figure in her thoughts. Still, though she admired him, confessing to her- self the extraordinary influence which he exercised over her, yet her mind was by no means clear. Madge was an ambitious young woman, with leanings to social prestige as well as social enjoyment. The life to which Hugh Dunbar had devoted himself was not the one she would have chosen for him. "With his conceded abilities and social rank he might easily attain the highest dignity in the Church. Had she expressed her real wish she would have preferred a ])olitical career for him, but now that the matter was decided she could see a vast difference between a clergyman in a wealthy city parish and one working over in the slums among all sorts of people. And already she was aware that this work of his was I V, (.|)le from those witii whom she was wont to meet on Sunday morn- ing. And yet that dilTerence was in raimant only, not in heart. They were the same people after all — the same sins, the same struggles, the same temptiu tioiis, the same sorrows. In liis way Silas Smithers was living the same life as Mark Urompbiii ; Mrs. Smithers the same as Mrs. Von der Plonk. But Madge this morning did not think much of either gowns or bonnets. Far more serious matters had taken possession of her. This service had other meanings than an aislo march, with a rivalry of tex- ture and color. '^^'■'£ PROPERTY OF PUBLIC LIBRARY 264 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. CHAPTER XXXI. Dixon Faber: Boy and Man. y\ X^^^ POLLOK yet remained in that Bplcndid I y I altitude of soul which enabled her to con- X tinuo her attentions to the piano of Mrs. Gubbins, making it her heart conlidant and friend. Nor could she have chosen a friend more ready or responsive. It is true that Miss I*ullok had deserted tho piano for months, ignoring its very existence, yet with that royalty of forgiveness for which all great natures are noted, pianos especially, it most gen- erously pardoned this unkind neglect. Yea, it went far beyond the limits of mere pardon, for in its intense desire to share the heart yearnings of Miss Pollok it strained even to breaking some of the most sensitive cords of its being. Hence there were notes in tho keyboard of its sympathies whose feelings were too deep for utterance. And then, as if to show how its whole nature was affected, the poor, broken wires lay prone and helpless across such other wires as yet remained in place, transmitting to them tones of vary- ing mystery and cadence. Under these sympathetic relations Miss Pollok could not but pour out of her strong, heroic soul chords and harmonies expressive of the profoundest emotions. The artist, going up stairs one evening, ventured to remark to Mr. Wright, who was also going up stairs, that the piano was " a little off color." As an artist, DIXON FABER: BOY AND MAN. his use of tliis expresfiion was quite natural. Tlio reply of Mr. Wright, however, cannot be so easily explained: '"A little off color' is good." Ho con- trived, tliougli, in some way, a stage trick most likely, to make his meaning clear, for Mr. Singleton, Mr. Faber, and Edward Vaughen, who heard both tho remark and the rej)ly, smiled in a large, opulent way. At that moment Miss Pollok warbled, " In the gloam- ing, O my darling,'' when another smile of even more ample dimensions was distributed among tho group, Edward's share occupying his undivided ener- gies all the way to his room. Edward had just received a letter from his mother. As ho reads it, with his permiosion, wo will peep over his shoulder : " Eastwich, Jan. 28, 189-. ..." You are a good boy to write eo regularly and at such length, but then you surely know how much your letters are to me. I am here all alone, but not alone in any morbid sense, for I have you even more constantly in my thought than when you were hero in the home. The miles may separate us in body, but spirit life knows no separations. " Then in you and through you I am having my part in the joy as well as the strife of the great world. My larger life is now o?Aug lived by you. When you are true I am true ; when you are worthy and upright I am the same. The life that you are living is my life, only in another form. The mother never dies so long as her children live. . . . " Coming so soon after your conversation with your Uncle Mark, it was singular that you should have Hi-,;! 236 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. gone to the office that night. These impressions of ours are strange things. Often I find myself wonder- ing how far we are influenced by forces which are purely spiritual. " Two things, however, occur to me as to Dr. Dispoy being in the office that night. It may be tliat ue was there in the interest of a patient who had intrusted some confidential matters to his care — not an uncommon thing ; or it may be {hat he had some business affairs of his own, for which he could not find any other time. Still, I confess — " ! |i I if i " May I come in ? " It was Mr. Faber who spoke, nor did he wait for any formal reply. The young men by this time had established the most friendly relations, coming in and going out of each other's rooms with scant ceremony. "Singleton gone out?" Faber queried, but not before he had filled his pipe out of Edward's jar, tilt- ing his chair back to a satisfactory angle, making himself as comfortable as timid, modest, unobtrusive reporters care to do. " Yes ; he said he had a ward meeting to attend." '•' Singleton has been going out a good deal this winter," Faber observed, in a contemplative sort of way. " Is he much in politics ? " " I think he is chairman or secretary of some com- mittee, though I don't know just what," " Anything in my line, I wonder 'i You know all is grist that comes to my mill." "Why don't you ask him? Singleton's a good fellow, and will help you if he can," DIXON FABER: BOY AND MAN. 287 " For that matter, all politicians are good fellows. Politics, though, is only a game, and the politician plays it — heads I win, tails you lose." Faber smiled softly, but not innocently, for he was a reporter on the Tromhmie^ which implies tliat ho knew better than to always come in wlicn it rained, but to stay out sometimes and hear what the rain- drops were saying. " But, my dear fellow, what has Singleton to gain ? So far as I can see, he is giving his service without recompense or even hope of reward." " Yaughen, there are times when I have wished for a lawnmower which could be applied to individ- uals. The superfluous verdancy with which some people are burdened is something remaikable. Ac- cording to your notions. Singleton is a patriot. lie is working solely in the interests of his country. His one thought is the welfare of this city. This is beautiful; it is noble. Singleton should have a monument. All of which proves t!iat if that lawn- mower was within reach I could use :t to advantage." " * Superfluous verdancy' in the vernacular is * un- commonly green,' " lauglied Edward. " Still, you must admit that luxurious, succulent grass is nmch better than wizened, dried-up herbage, for that is useless to either man or beast." " O, if you mean to consider yourself as pasturage for sheep to nibble or cows to munch, undoubtedly. Remember, though, that the nibbling and the munch- ing come out of you. Now, in New York a man who is green enough for pasturage is a good deal of a curiosity, but he never lasts longer than one season. ^ ! I 283 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. Your sentiments are worthy of that mighty city of Eastwich, with its vast population of nearly a thou- sand people, with its noble Board of Selectmen, who at times have the soul-absorbing problem of a new handle for the town pump or a larger lock for the pound gate. In this town the politician is simply a man with a scheme. That is all there is of it. But won't you please pass the jar? When a weary man undertakes the sublime task of enlightening such be- nighted creatures as you aro he might be asked to take a pipe of tobacco." Mr. Faber proceeded to renew his pipe in the inner man. lie liked Edward's tobacco, and said that "for a country coot Vaughen put up quite a mixture." Fabcr's father died when Dixon was a little bit of a fellow, leaving a heart-broken widow with three small children, Dixon being the eldest. It was a ead, desolate house to which Mrs. Faber returned on the afternoon of her husband's funeral. A few of the neighbors had thoughtfully prepared supper, remaining also a little while, so as to break up the evening ; but after they had gone the burden of Mrs. Faber's grief came upon her in all its force. Mr. Faber, a steady, industrious mechanic, had been sick for some time, so that the little savings were entirely exhausted. There was nothing left ; even the funeral expenses had yet to be met. Dixon did not say much that evening, but some- how there came to him the feeling that he was now, in part, at any rate, the head of the house. The very next day he was at the ferry, for the Fabers lived in DIXON FABLR; BOY AND MAN. 289 Brooklyn, uiid before supper time had sold two good- Bizcd bundles of papers. Early on the following irioming ho started out to build up a ])ap(T route, calling mostly upon those who knew his father and mother. lie was more successful than he had hoped, but then the poor are always the best friends of the ])oor. Every morning, from this time on, Dixon, tliough not cpiite ten years old, went around with his ])aper8, having a route that took fully two hours to cover. Then in the afternoon he had his stand at the ferry house, where his bright, cheery face soon became familiar. As people came to know him and something of what he was doing, lie acquired a line of steady patronage, so that he could almost depend upon a regular income. The men who distributed the papers took quite an interest in the little fellow, ])utting certain favors in his way, which helped him materially. At first his mother went out by the day, doing such work as she could find, but this vvas a most in- convenient arrangement, for it left Tim and Mab at home by themselves. The other people w^ho lived in the house, especially Hans Christian's wife, did what they could for the little ones, yet it was agreed on all sides that they w^ere too young to be left in this way. Dixon determined, therefore, to open a little store, with his mother in charge, adding to the store such things as might find a ready sale. The newspaper men, hearing of this, took the matter up, subscribing various amounts, so that one day the managing editor of the Bmsoon called the boy into the office, and in behalf of his staff presented 19 ■r II 290 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. liim with a cash capital of twenty dollars to start the concern. With this goodly sum in hand, as well as a lino of credit, whicli ho was careful not to abuse, the little Btore was opened under very favorable auspices. Tlie lad i)ro8pered, so that in due time he ])ut an extra boy on his morning paper route, then anotlier, finally having half a dozen of them. Busi- ness kept on increasing ; he therefore gave up his place at the ferry, though supplying it through anotlier boy, he finding it more profitable to remain at the store, where he prejoared the papers for the afternoon md evening delivery. By this time Tim had grown to be quite a boy, just as Mab had grown to be quite a girl, so he gradually worked them into the business, which they soon learned to manage very nicely. Then he went to the foreman of the Bassoon^ applying for a place in the printing department. Not long after he was chosen for the high and hon- orable position of " printer's devil," from which elevation he descended, however, to a place at case work. The store now supported the family, for Mrs. Faber was a most thrifty, j)rudent woman ; hence what Dixon earned, after paying his share of the home expenses, he laid aside for the purpose of a college course in the years to come. Meantime he took up a line of home studies, work- ing even harder than when he first started on his paper route. One of the reporters, a Columbia man, and a whole-hearted, noble fellow, took quite an in- terest in Dixon, coaching him most generously, so DIXON FABER: BOY AND MAN. 291 that when lio was about eighteen, pcrliaps nineteen, lie entered the Now York University. Wiiilo hero ho wrote two or three hright things for tiie Ttom- honey whereupon the city editor dropped liim a lino with a recpiest to call. This lie did, but not without a letter from his good friend, the niaiuiging editor of the Baaaoon. The interview was Futistjujtory, and Dixon ])ecanie not only college correspondent, but a regular contributor us well. As a further result of this interview he was brought into relations with some out-of-town papers, so that he was able substantially to pay his way in college. This allowed his savings to go to an increase of the business at the store, for that now had beeoine (piitc; a concern. lie retained his |)osition on the Tro)n- hone, and at the time of our first meeting him was one of the most trusted writers on the staff, lie boarded at the house of Mrs. (iubbins, as it was important for him to be in the city most of the time. Still he made regular and frecpient visits to his Brooklyn home, lie was a bright, wide-awake fellow, able to give "pointers" to even Wall Street men ; while he knew more in five minutes of city affairs tlian most of the politicians would know in five years. Having relighted as well as refilled his pipe, he proceeded : " Now, Singleton is doing one of two things — cither turning the grindstone for some one or having some one turn the grindstone for him. What men an; after in this town is not honor, but shekels. The average politician is ready to lie, cheat, bribe, make 2'>2 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ])romise8, sell out his friends, coinmifc almost any crime short of murder, so as to get whiit he wants. The more I know of politics the more I am reminded of that scene on the mountain where the tenjpter Hiiys to the Man, * All these will I give thee if thou wilt fall down and worship me.' !Now, that may be jioetry; some people think it is. It may be an oriental parable ; some people think it is ; but it is T^ew York life nevertheless. Wliy, I have known men for the sake of such kingdoms of the world as are represented by a seat in Congress or the Senate or an ambassadorship, all the way down to some petty office in the city, sell out everything tliat was good in themselves, and simply grovel at the feet of the one who had these prizes to dispose of." We would be doing Mr. Faber an injustice if we did not say that this lengthy speech of his was not given as it appears in print. Here it is in solid, unpicturesque type, whereas in speaking to Edward he puffed it out with mouthfuls of smoke. He jerked it out in oracular fragments. He pulled it out in lengths as parlor magicians do narrow strips of paper. Mr. Faber was not an orator. He was versatile, though. " By the way, Vaughen, Mr. Mark Brompton is your uncle ? " " He is." " Keen & Sharp, your employers, are bis agents and brokers?" " They are." " Well, they are now at work on a scheme to get control of a railroad in which Mr, Brompton is DIXON FABER: BOY AND MAN. 293 IS heavily interested. If they are successful they will make it lively for your wortliy uncle." " How did you hear of this ? " Edward asked, with an excitement which he made no attempt to conceal. " The question is not how did I hear of it, but has Mr. Bromjjton heard of it ? The best thing for you to do is to go right uptown, see Mr. Brompton, find out if he knows anything of it; if not, put him on his guard." It was not long before Edward was on his way to Mark Brompton's, taking the " Elevated " at Eighth Street station. To his great relief, when he arrived he learned that his uncle was at home and in the library. " And 60 they thought to catch me napping," he said, after Edward had told him what he had heard. " Tell Mr. Faber I am very much obliged to him. I have known of this, however, for some time." Edward thought this a favorable opportunity to speak of the evening when he went downtown and saw Dr. Disney in the office with Keen & Sharp. Mr. Brompton listened with the deepest interest, questioning Edward closely as to the date and his certainty that it was really Dr. Disney. No amount of questioning, however, could shake his statement, for he was so certain as to leave no room for doubt. "I am sorry if Keen & Sharp have led Dr. Disney into this affair, for he can't afford to lose much money, which Keen & Sharp know just as well as I do." Edward looked surprised. " Dr. Disney is by no means as well off as people M' I i 1 294 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. imagine. He has a largo practice, and he deserves it, for ho is a splendid physician ; but, poor fellow, he is dabbling in stocks all tlie time. "Within the last two years ho must have been all cleaned out. Two or three times tho market went dead against him. I don't really know hov; he pulled through." " Is he aware that you know of his speculations?" " O no ! lie will sometimes, after taking my pulse and putting his car down to my heart, tell me that Wall Street is too much for me, while at the same time ho is under a far heavier strain than I am. I cannot but admire his pluck. Fine fellow his son John is." Edward launched out, young man fashion, on the various good qualities of John Disney, a theme upon which he could always be eloquent. " What does he moan by clerking in the rolling mills ? " Mr. Brompton asked. "I think he intends to go into the business him- self. This will give him a chance to learn some- thing of it." "You believe, then, he is serious in this move?" " Most assuredly. He told me you were interested in the concern, one of tho directors." " That is true." " Well, my dear uncle, let mo just say that in three months' time John Disney will know more about tho Hematite Eolling Mills and Tubal-Cain Iron Works' than all the directors on the board, excepting your- self, of course." "You needn't except me, and even then he wouldn't know much. I attend a directors' meeting DIXON FABER: BOY AND MAN. 295 once a month. It lasts an hour. During that hour we listen to some reports, pass on some bills, transact some formal business, then adjourn. I know nothing about the concern, nor do I wish to know. All I care to have out of it is a good fat dividend." Mr. Brompton, as he spoke, went over to his desk, which gave Edward a chance to leave. Jul'. Brompton then renewed his thanks to Mr. Faber, which Edward promised to convey, and the young man was soon on his way to the home of Mrs. Gubbins. 1 i 4". 296 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ( 11 CHAPTER XXXII. Ethel Brompton's Choice. TTENDUIK VON DEIl PLOXK has not, so pn far, boon a prominent ii^^nrc in tlicbe pages. \J Indeed, his name has l>et'n mentioned only once, and then in but an incidental way. This, however, was not with the intent of keeping Mr. Von der Plonk within permanent shadow of the " wings," while others held the center of the stage. The fact is, the time had not yet come for him to take his place close up to the footlights, w-hcre he could be seen and heard by all in the house. Thus far, there- fore, he has been very much in the background, only a sort of stage dunnny, just to fill in what otherwise would be a blank space. Stage dunnnies, however, are useful in their way. "What chances, too, they have of seeing things and saying things as they stand in little knots and groups on different parts of the stage I For some time, even before the opening of our story, Ilendrik Von der Plonk had been quite marked in his attentions to Ethel Brompton. So definite and pointed were tlicse attentions that it was generally understood among the Gothamites that there would be a wedding in the course of time. lie had met her at a charity ball, where she looked uncommonly well in what was anything but a charity gown. She wore diamonds on her neck and in her JjiaSr, which were not bought at a churity bureau, and (1 'il ETHEL BROMPTON'S CHOICE. 297 bLo disported herself in a way which would not siii;- gcst a lieart breaking with sympatliy for tlie poor. Nevertheless it was a charity ball, for the proceeds, after certain expenses were paid, were given to some deserving cause. " Cause " in these instances should always be put either in capitals or italics. It would be a vulgar impertinence for anyone to ask what the net proceeds were, or what special fund was enriched by such offerings. The idea of making common, sordid, commercial inquiries in matters of this sort is simply preposterous. Rather let us think of the comfort that the mere fact in itself biings to the poor. Just to know that Ethel Brompton, with scores, j)erhaps hundreds, of her claf^s, spent a whole night dancing any number of times, eating any num- ber of ices, having supper somewhere between mid- night and morning, wearing a gown that cost a little fortune in itself, and doing all this for the sake of ■ sweet charity, is surely enough, without going into such vulgar details as to how much money was made or who got it. What if there is no money made ? — which is often the case. The charity ball has been given, and the upper-class Gothamites have met all the proper demands. Mr. Yon der Plonk was not an eminent success as a dancing man. Even his best friends said so ; but \vhat was still more singular, he said so himself. This simple circumstance in itself, not the fact that he could not dance well, but that he knew it and acknowledged it, at once gave him high rank. Indeed, there were those who spoke of him as an ex- traordinary man. r i ' k fi::/' M DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. Nor was he a special success as a society man. Here apjain his best friends siiid so, but liere he dif- fered with them out and out. Tlie difference of opin- ion, however, was merely one of standpoint. Some people tliink that to achieve social success one needs to be bright, witty, say sharp things, do smart things, thus compelling a certain measure of attention. This was not Mr. Von der Plonk's idea at all. He thought ■when he went to a dinner and ate heartily, hardly even speaking to his neighbors on either side, when he made the round of " afternoons " and " evenings," putting in just so much time in each place, that he liad done his whole duty. lie therefore regarded himself as a bright and shining light in the social world. But most assuredly ho was not a literary man. Once at Fitz Noodle's he took in to dinner a Boston girl. She was on familiar terms with Browning, knew Longfellow by heart, could quote Whittier in yard lengths, regarded the " Autocrat " of Holmes as another gospel, and simply reveled in Emerson. O the hopeless look on that girl's face long before Mrs. Fitz Noodle gave the retiring signal ! But we are not to infer that there was anything the matter with Von der Plonk. He ate well; he slept well ; he had a big, strong, healthy body ; his habits wore fairly good ; indeed, in many respects he was to be envied. Mammas having daughters on hand regarded him with favor. Daughters, old enough to get along without mammas, thought kindly of him. Widows, upon whose once sorrow-stricken hearts time had wrought its consoling miracle, looked ■•r* ETHEL BROMPTONS CHOICE. 299 5J upon him witli yearning approval. TIjo more inci- ciuiit that he was clay all tlio way from his feet to his liead — dull, heavy, opaque clay ; clay witliout any- thing of soul or spirit, absolutely void of real life — did not seem to affect his social prestige in the least. Of course he had money — much money, a great deal of money — wliich possibly had something to do with his general popularity. "Ethel," said Janet, one night, as they were lan- guidly laying aside the robes with which in the early evening they had gone forth from conquering to conquer, " what are you going to do with Von der Plonk ? " The disrobing process had reached that stage when Ethel might sit down in comparative case. Ethel possessed much of her mother's stateliness, for she was tall and of fine figure. Handsome gowns were becoming to her, which is not the case with every- one. Ethel liked handsome gowns just as well as they liked her. Still, when one has been on dress parade for several hours under inspection by staff ofiScers, both male and female, an easy chair in one's bedroom has much in its favor. So she sat down, and deliberately, Janet meantime waiting for an an- swer to her question. " I hardly know what you mean," she was begin- ning, fn her cold, distinct way, when Janet inter- rupted her with : "You know very well what I mean, Ethel, and there isn't any use in your fencing and quibbling." " Supposing I do ; is that any reason for either your asking such a question or ray answering it ?" 300 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. Ethel's face bad now tlio same sot, Btern look which iiiiglit often be seen on her father's. " Kow, Ethel, see liere. You and I are sisters, and wliile we often luive our little bickerings and diifcr- ences, jet we are very fond of each other. You know just as well as that you arc sitting in that clunr tliat Ilendrik Yon der Plonk means one of those days to ask you to marry him. My question is, what are you going to say in re])ly ?" " I wish, Janet, you would let my affairs alone; besides, it will be tinie enough when Mr. Von der Plonk has spoken." Ethel now turned her face to the fire, looking sadly and earnestly at some pictures which she saw in the blazing coals. " And I sliould like to know why I sliould not trouble myself with your affairs," was the quick le- ])ly of Janet, thougl without the least anger or ini- j)atience. *' Vou are my only sister. You are the closest and best friend I have in the world. I am in- terested in you, just as you arc in me, and in a mat- tor of this kind a nice sister I would be if I was not concerned." " Then if Mr. Yon der Plonk asks me the question you suggest there is but one answer which I can give," said Ethel, sj^eaking in a low, sad tone, still looking into the lire, but keeping her face pa$tly hid- den from Janet. Neither of the girls spoke for some time — Ethel busy with her fire pictures, Janet turning over the pages of a magazine which she had taken from the table. But though they sat opposite each other by ETHEL BROMPTONS CHOICE. 301 t'y the cheerful fire, their chairs but a few feet apart, iicitlicr one was really there. Through the blaze and glow, aB gateways of flame, Ethers thoughts had gone thousands of miles. Through the pictures on the page, as mysterious doors, Janet's thoughts had gone thousands of miles. Their thoughts, l.ovvevcr, had not gone in opposite directions, but like '* homing" pigeons set free from a ship in midocean, each had flown in line with the other, each coming to the same destination. " Won't yon wait for me, Ethel ? " pleaded David Staidey, as fine a young fellow as one would ask to see. In some way, tlirough Percy, Stanley had met Ethel, and at once fell in love with her. lie was a great-natured, generous fellow, not shrewd, perhaps, with less unscrupulous ambition, possibly, than many, but just the kind of a young man to whom a girl's pure heart would go out with all its wealth of affec- tion. Ethel became deeply interested in David, al- lowing matters to go so far that David finally asked her to wait for him, when he would be ready to offer her a home. There was no pledge, no form of en- gagement ; she would not allow him to speak to her father or even make a confidant of Percy. So far as either of them was concerned there was nothing but a vague understanding. David went to South Amer- ica to take charge of some matters in which the firm with which he was connected had important interests, where he expected to remain for two or three years. Nothing was said as to what might happen when he returned ; still, there were certain hopes ip his heart I- ■>■ t r- i HI mtt. mm 302 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. i! t^ which made the thought of coming back very pleas- ant to him. Mrs. Brompton saw more of what was going on tlian anyone imagined, but she was far too shrewd to attempt anything by way of opposition. Unless one is prepared by sheer strength of wind to blow a fire right out the best thing is not to blow it at all. At certain stages even a breath will fan the smoldering embers, kindling into new life that which was surely dying. Hence Mrs. Brompton spoke pleasantly of David Stanley. She even sympathized with the pov- erty of his prospects, regretting that there was so little chance of his ever getting on. After a time she went so far as to pity liim, intimating that Mr. Brompton had a poor opinion of his business ability ; that the probabilities were against him ever rising higher than a clerkship, and that he would most likely remain in South America. Mrs. Brompton's method of putting out the fire was to throw on a large quantity of hard coal, which weighted down the little life below so that it could not find any outlet. Then, when she was perfectly certain of the results, she raked and poked until even the hot ashes fell through, leaving nothing but the cold, shining coal to fill up the grate. Then in that delicate, motherly way of hers she spoke of young Yon der Plonk, but she was careful not to throw him at Ethel's head. Mrs. Brompton probably knew nothing of the mysteries of chess, or the importance of seeming to play the game on one part of the board when in reality the game is on another part. Bat this was ETHEL BROMPTON'S CHOICE. 303 the just what slie was doing. Using Yon der Plonk as the " king," she showed liow strong was the attack of certain of Ethel's friends : how Miss Fitz Noodle smirked and smiled when his name was linked with hers ; how Mrs. Harlem, a heartless widow, though not yet twenty-five, was making a dead set for him. In this way and in others she led Ethel to that side of the board, calling her off from the real point of the game. Chess, whether played with boxwood pieces or things of flesh and blood, is capable of fine strategy, though, after all, the game usually comes to the one who makes tlie fewest mistakes. Mrs. Brorapton may rot have been either brilliant or dar- ing in her play, but she seldom made mistakes. The result was that Ilendrik Yon der Plonk had been practically accepted by Ethel. Only the for- malities remained. "And what will you do witli David Stanley ? " Janet said, after a long pause. " What have I to do with David Stanley ? " Ethel questioned, in turn, now turning her face from the fire and looking almost angrily at Janet. "He may think that you have something to do with him. You know better far than I do that he has a right to think so." Janet answered with frank fearlessness ; perhaps indignation would be a better term, for she was angry with Ethel. The sisters soon parted for the night — Janet going to her room much troubled about her sister, still able to sleep a sweet, pure, healthy sleep, rising in the morning with clear eyes and light heart ; Ethel going r*', ',%i 3U4 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. . II '■ ' !i to her room not to sleep at all, only to spend the night in tearless agony. Mr. Faber, had he known as much of the Bromp- ton household as he did of politics, could easily have added to his chapter on " The Kingdoms of the World " and the crowds who worship at the altar of ambition. For here was Ethel Brompton deliber- ately putting aside the love of a good, true man to obtain simply a wealth upon which her soul was set. The next morning when Ethel came down to breakfast she was very pale and had heavy rings under her eyes. Her mouth, though, was firmly set, and the determined look was on her face. That evening Hendrik Yon der Plonk asked her to marry him, and she consented to do so. m I :#^':^ - *■ >.•■ JOHN DISNEY HITS HARD. 305 ;he LVO ;lie of er- to let. to igs let, ler t CHAPTER XXXIII. John Disney Hits Hard. rr OHN DISNEY'S scheme, though well meant, y was, after all, more romantic than practical. Qj "What could he really learn of the hard, narrow life of the average workman by the phm he pro- posed ? Suppose he did get up early in the morning, beins: at his office in time to see the men b' ..>:in the work of the day. Suppose he did remain a^ nis post until the last workman had left tlie premises and tlio place was put in charge of the night watcliman. Suppose he did try in every possible way to bring himself into close touch with all classes of the men and make his life almost a part of theirs. "What was gained? Nothing of any moment. John Disney was not required, when his day's work was done, to trudge wearily to some cheap tenement of two or three small rooms in some crowded, common neigh- borhood, where the evening and the night would be spent under the most barren conditions. Neither could he put liimself in the place of some of these men who would go home to a sick wife or a sick child, remaining all night at i^ie bedside of the poor sufferer, snatching now and then a few minutes of disjointed sleep, then on the morrow weary and jaded begin the work of another day. Nor was he compelled when Saturday came to distribute his wages over the wants of a household, 20 m 300 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. 80 much for rent, so much for coal, so much for food, so much for clothing, only to find that with tho utmost care many things were unprovided for. Kor did any inexorable law demand that he — in hot weather or cold weather, in dark winter's morn- ing or glare of summer noon, whether sick or well, whether glad or broken-hearted— should answer the merciless call of the steam whistle; then, having answered the call, work all day long, just as one of the machines in the mill. The monotony, the dull, wearisome routine, the drudgery, the sense of a labor from which there is no escape, the terrible hope- lessness of it all — these were the things John Dis- ney could not know. Still, in himself certain good was being done. He was acquiring a broader humanity. His sympathies were deepening as well as becoming more genuine. A truer sense of brotherhood was being developed. The hundreds of men who came in and out every day were creatures of flesh and blood, each the center of a little- world of his own. The first one to attract him especially was Fred Sauvier. This, however, was only natural, seeing they were in the same office, and their work brought them into familiar contact. Fred had charge of the " time " of the men — no small matter in an establish- ment so large as this one. The *' time " was taken from the books of the foremen in the several depart- ments, every hour on or off meaning just so much in the wages of the men. Evan Evans was a hard-working fellow, who could ill afford to lose that half day when he overslept him* JOHN DISNEY HITS HARD. 307 self because he had been up nearly all the iJght be- fore with his sick boy. But when Saturday came the half day was gone from his pay, leaving the little family with so much less to live on. Dennis Doolin must needs attend the funeral of Michael Muldoon, for was not the late Mr. Muldoon " the broth av a bhoy " as well as "all the way from Galway ? " Grief, though, is an expensive luxury, for when Dennis received his wages on the following pay day a whole day was gone, much to the regret of Mrs. Doolin. Pietro Farino is so eminently religions that quite frequently a saint's day demands liis pious recogni- tion. His absence, though regretted, is carefully re- membered. He therefore eats less onions and mac- aroni for some days to come. Tommy Jones thinks the sun rises but rarely sets on Belinda Smith. Ho is saving up his extra earnings with which to buy an imposing bracelet for her birthday. Tiie two hours overtime which he put in every evening for a w^eek is charged faithfully to his credit. His name, then, on the next pay dny, if written according to his feelings, would be Thomas Jones, Esq. To keep the " time " was a work of much respon- sibility. Such a man could easily bo dishonest. He might secure for himself favor with the men. To go shares would not be a difficult arranLreinent, mark- ing men " in " when they were " out ; " for such things have been done not only in mills and machine shops, but in other places as wxll. But Fred Sauvier was of the rigidly honest type. Ill ^1 (' I I ! I 'f»' 308 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. He would put a mark against himself with even less hesitation than against Dennis Doolin or Pietro Fa- rino. Consequently there was a little handful of men who looked upon him in the light of a mortal enemy ; fur there are some who hclieve that corpora- tions have no souls, and may bo robbed without breach of any known commandment. John Disney found Sauvier to be an active, intel- ligent, and fairly ambitious young fellow. Sauvier had no definite idea as to who John Disney really was, for though it was tli rough Mark Brompton his place in the oflice had been secured, yet that meant nothing, as it was always by the influence of some of the directors that the clerks were engaged. They were about closing up the work for the day, and had a few minutes of comparatively idle time. They chatted, therefore, as young men will. " I have been here several years," Sauvier said, in reply to a question of John. " I got in as an errand boy ; after some time I was put in the office, so grad- ually I have crept along." " You have seen a good many changes since you came in ? " " Yes, a good many." "For the better?" "Ko, I can't say that. "When I first came here this was an individual concern. Mr. Mailable was the owner — a fine, generous-hearted man who had worked his way up from Spuddling.' He knew every man in the place, could call them by name and was interested in them. They say that there wasn't a strike or any kind of a disagreement for the whole y <•> JOHN DISNEY HITS HARD. 309 thirty years tluit lie run the concern. His daughter, the only child ho had, married a Mr. Bessemer, who, at Mr. Mallahle's death, about live years ago, suc- ceeded to the business. Shortly after Mr. Bessemer turned the concern into a stock company. Since then things haven't been the same." " In what way ? I should liave thought that a stock company bringing in fresh capital would liavo built up the business." " One would think so at first, but you see Mr. Bessemer sold out at a very high valuation, so divi- dends had tlicn to be made on the whole amount." " I am afraid I don't quite get your meaning." "Then let me explain. Mr. Mailable regarded the concern — machinery, buildings, trade, good-will, the whole plant in short — as worth about lialf a mil- lion. When he made anything hke a fair profit on that amount he was perfectly satisfied. Now, Mr. Bessemer sold tlie concern to the new company for a million. Consequently it had to make twice as mucli as before so as to keep up the old rate of profits." " O, I see. If the old concern after paying ex- penses made, say, thirty thousand a year, the new concern had to make sixty thousand out of the same actual capital." "Exactly; w^hich meant all kinds of economies, scaling down wages, scrimping in work, using all sorts of odds and ends, and not turning out anything like tlie quality of stuff as in Mr. Mallable's time." " The concern, though, is running full time ? " " Yes, but it is not the kind of work that really pays." I .t I'll 'i h 310 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. 1' k ii 11 r. f 1; " You mean, tlion, that the outlook Tor this concern is not VL'vy <,^oo(l ? " " Well, I hardly know just how to put it. You see, now that the concern is a corporation, there is no individual responsibility one way or the other. What the directors care for is dividends. What the men care for is waij^es. Each is thinkini; of liimself; CD O / neither is thiidvinf^ of the others. When orders are coniini^ in with a I'ush the men strike for hi<;her waujes. When trade slacks off the directors cut the wages down. TliL're is no such thing in this estab- lishment as master and man. The master is simply a calculating machine, the man a working machine." " But in these days business has taken on such larger forms that we require the corporation." " I don't know about that," replied Sauvier, gath- ering up some books that were on liis desk, prepar- atory to putting them in the ofBce safe; "there is usually some one man at the head of every concern, whether it be a corporation or not. But the fact is when a man has a nice business he is not content with a fair living. He turns it into a stock company, lie makes himself president, his eldest son vice-presi- dent, and so on down the list on both sides of the house. The result is that the men's wages are cut down to meet the big salaries of a lot of officials." "Then you don't like the present condition of things," said John Disney, turning from the wash- bowl in the corner of the office where he had been washing his hands, and was now drying them off on a coarse towel. " Frankly, I do not," Sauvier responded. " The 1 JOHN DISNEY HITS HARD. 311 only people wlio do are the officials and their friends." The office which Fred Sauvier and John Disney occupied was, perhaps, as much of a gatehouse as an office, tlie main office being quite a pretentious affair. The chief clerks in the main office were very im- portant individuals. Mr. Falcon, the head book- keeper, condescended to appear every morning about ten o'clock, then remaining with more or less regular- ity until two or even three. This was very kind of Mr. Falcon, seeing that he was married to a sister of one of the directors. Mr. Stubbs, the cashier, was equally as gracious, and as he was the nephew of the president of the company the very fact that he came to the office at all was an act of the most extreme courtesy. Mr. Stafford, to whom was intrusted most of the general correspondence, and wliose sig- nature at the foot of a typewritten document was magnificently illegible, enjoyed the distinction of being the son-in-law of the vice-president. Mr. Stafford's duties were not arduous ; his salary, though, was based on the general principle in such cases — the less work the more pay. All told, there were ten of them in tlie main office. Under these was a little army of junior clerks, typewriters, down to office boys. " That Disney fellow is rather airy, is he not ? " said Mr. Stubbs to Mr. Falcon, as he somewhat languidly laid down the morning paper, though not before he had read the racing and theatrical news, for Mr. Stubbs had sporting tendencies. K > t i' I ;i';: III 312 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. " Yon mean the Till Box over there in tlio gate- house?" rejilicd Mr. Falcon, wlio Ijad lieard in an incidental way tliat Jolin Disney's father was a doctor. Ho assumed that the ])ractico was limited and tiiat tlio new clerk was eking out tlie family income. "For a ten-dollar craft he carries altogether too much sail." Mr. Falcon was the owner of a tenth in a cat- boat. His use of nautical terms was, therefore, quite natural, as well as proper. " I should say so I " said Mr. Stafford, looking up from a letter which lie was writing, said letter, how- ever, having no refen nee to tlio business of the firm, being a crushing ant! masterly reply to his tailor, who had the impudence to ask him for payment of a bill ■when it was only two years due. " I went in to that cubby -hole yesterday to get him to do an errand for me, and the fellow refused point-blank. Indeed, he even suggested in the most lordly way that lie was not hired to do that kind of work. A hint to the V. P. will—" Mr. Stafford did not say what the hint would bring forth, but resumed his writing. Mr. Stubbs once more took up tlie morning paper, this time giving his undivided energies to the baseball column. Mr. Falcon proceeded to draw a rough sketch of a proposed boathouse which he intended to submit to the Cutty Hunk Yaclit Club. Thus went on the hard, grinding work of these sons of toil, who were also sons-in-law of directors and shareholders. John Disney, remarkable as it may seem, was not affected by the haughty bearing of these august and JOHN DISNEY HITS HARD. 313 impofling personages, but went on with a serenity which they could not understand. On this particular evening after Fred Sauvier had set the safe ** combination," and tlie oftico generally liad been put to rights, it was about time for the night watchman to come. "How careful Wilkins is not to arrive a minute before his time I " John said, somewhat impatiently. lie had an engagement that evening to go out with Madge, so was anxious to get away. " No more careful than we are not to remain a minute after our time," was the smiling response of Sauvier. " You see how this illustrates our con- versation." *' You have had your innings so far," said John, who was a very Scotchman in his love of an argu- ment. " Every question has two sides. The other side has yet to bat." Just then Wilkins came in, and the two clerks were soon on their way home. Though the days liad lengthened quite perceptibly since that night, a few weeks before, when Edward Vaughen walked down Broadway, afterward seeing Dr. Disney in the office of Keen & Sharp, still it was comparatively dark as they made their way to the corner where they usually bade each other good night. Hence neither of them noticed a gang of rouo'h-lookine: men who had followed them all the way from the office, though at such a distance that even had they noticed them no suspicions would have been aroused. In this part of the city there is not much regard ,"t 314 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. 11 1 1' for the niceties of the law. The man whose "busi- ness takes him to tliig neighborhood, once niglit has set in, needs to be very careful. In the daytime there is usually so much traffic and travel of one kind and another that the streets are comparatively safe, Ijut at night the dark gateways, the deserted store- houses, the high buildings, in which there is no light whatever, easily make possible almost any form of crime. On reaching the comer, the young men parted. John starting out in his usual brisk way, walking across to where he would get a car, but he liad only gone a shoii; distance when he heard the noise of angry voices, then a loud cry for help, and then al- most instantly, " Disney ! Disney ! " It at once flashed upon him that the voice was that of Sauvier, Like a deer he ran to the place from where the cries came, to find Sauvier surrounded by some half dozen burly ruffians, against whom he was bravely defending himself. It was not long before John was at the side of Sauvier, dealing a tremen- dous blow at one fellow who had Fred by the throat, which caused him to let go his hold and stagger to the ground. But this only infuriated the others, who rushed at John like so many mad bulls. John, however, had his wits all about him, and already had backed up against the wall, so as not to be struck from behind. Now, in the very first chapter of these most accu- rate and trustworthy chronicles it is stated with great clearness that John Disney could " don the gloves," an accomplishment which some people regard with *^ ^ ' JOHN DISNEY HITS HARD. 315 disfavor. At tiiis particular time tlie skill thus ac- quired was of nioro value to him than all the rest of his college work, for ho was al)lc to parry and strike with an case and a force which under the cirr-nm- stances were highly desirable. Even in fighting, the scientific method has points of advantage which count very materially. The man who knows just where to hit and iiow tc liit is usually able to give a good account of himself. But two against six, for the first man had now resumed his place among the combatants, means that in the end the six are likely to prevail, unless tlie two in some way are reinforced, or special moans taken to dispose of the six. As there was no Blucher any- where in sight, and as Sauvier was not holding his own against his proportion of the enemy, John de- termined to assume the offensive, and that in a most vigorous way. "Watching his clianco, he threw him- self with all his might against the m^st vicious of In's opponents; then, before tl\e fellow l»ad recovered from the shock, quick as lightning lie had his arms around his waist, locked one hand over the other, and gave the ruffian a squeeze which caused him to leap almost a foot in the air, crying out for very pain, and fall helpless on the ground. John was now 'n a splendid rage, just in that mood when he would kill without mercy, for when he was angered to the full lie had the remorseless spirit of a gladiator. "Willi the same passion, therefore, he flung himself upon another man, performing the same feat as before, his strength only seeming to increase with his rage. ^1 r.i » 11 I ■ill i i w 316 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. The others, seeing the mighty wrath of this yonng Goliath, fell back a few paces, but John rushed upon them with terrible fury, hitting one fellow with such force that he fell crashing over some crates and empty boxes which littered that part of the street. The other three now slunk away, though not until one of them came behind Fred Sauvier, who for the moment was off his guard, and striking him on the head knocked him almost senseless. Just now a policeman came running up, wno at once whistled for help, when another officer soon ap- peared. The two men with whom John hud been so righteously unmerciful had crawled into the shadow of a gateway, but they were soon discovered. The other one was gathered out of the crates and boxes, and the precious trio were marched to the police station. Other policemen, meantime, had arrived, two of whom took Fred Sauvier, one by each arm, for poor Fred was pretty well used up. At the police sta- tion, however, he recovered sufficiently to give a gen- eral account of the proceedings: After the usual course in such cases — identification and lodging formal complaint against the prisoners — a carriage was called to take Fred and John Jionie. At that particular moment John Disney was, so far as appearance goes, a most disreputable-looking young man. His coat and vest were nearly torn to pieces. His face was all scratched and battered. Spatterings of blood and daubings of mud were plentifully dis- tributed all over him. The spick-span dapper fellow who left his home that morning would now not be recognized by even his own mother. Fred Sauvier JOHN DISNEY HITS HARD. 317 had not fared quite so badly by way of wounds and Bcratclies. His real injuries, Loweverj were more S*iriQUS. It was late when they reached the Sauviers', for some time had been spent in the police station. Mrs. Sauvier and Oberta were both beginning to think that something must have happened, when in Fred walked, closely followed by John. There was the usual little shrieking and " oh-lng," but the Sauviers were sensible people and soon recovered from their fright. X*^ 4 few minutes John got up to go home, when Fred took him by the arm and, turning to his mother, said: " Mother, you have Mr. Disney to thank for my being here at all. He saved my life at the risk of his own." Mrs. Sauvier looked at John in a dazed, bewildered way, sinking faint and belpless into a chair. John very naturally thought that the fright and excite- ment of the past half hour were too nnich for her. Even Oberta, quick-witted as s'le was, did not asso- ciate her mother's strange condition with the mention of the name of Disney. ^18 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. i(, H'^gt CHAPTEK XXXIV. An Evening at Mr. Keen's. WHAT story in all literature lias caused more heart tlirobbings or awakened such pro- found interest as that of a certain ancient dame whose progeny was so numerous as to disturb lier peace by day, wliile at night she pillowed her distracted head under a leathern roof? "What pa- thetic pictures have come to our minds when we have thought of this sorely troubled mother, whose off- spring gave her such painful anxiety ! It is possible that had she not chosen such a singular place of abode, but contented herself with a home of the reg- ular order, her children might not have been either so restless or unruly. But, be that as it may, the fact remained, embalmed even in poetry, that this woman "did not know what to do." In the thrilling but pathetic narrative we learn that she was forced finally to adopt a treatment which was at once both drastic and heroic. Tliere the story ends. To stop at the right time is more than art — it is genius. It would hardly be true to say that Mrs. Vaughen was in anything like the plight of the much-harassed female referred to. She was troubled, though, about Edward — troubled, too, in a way that gave her se- rious concern. Knowing that he was high-spirited to a degree which might be considered romantic, with a sort of honor of the ancient knighthood type ; fully AN EVENING AT MR. KEEN'S. 319 aware of his obligations to Mark Bronipton ; con- scious also of the duty which he owed to his employ- ers ; deeply in love with Rhea Keen — his position, when all these things are borne in mind, was one of much complexity. Like a wise young man, he wrote to his mother, fully stating the case. Like a wise mother, she wrote back almost at once, refusing anything in the way of positive advice. To refrain from giving advice shows great strength of mind. If people are ever to be worth their salt in this world— or any other — they must learn to work out their own salvation. Edward was now of age. He was on the ground. It was his life in which the battle had to be fought. Mrs. Vaughen therefore left with him the responsibility of deciding. At iirst he was tempted to give up his position in the office of Keen & Sharp. But this would surely offend his Uncle Mark. Then he thought of making a confidant of Mr. Singleton. But this would be treachery to Mr. Faber. And all the while there was his love for Miss Keen, only adding to the difficulty of the situation. What, then, could he do ? He was like a man flung into the sea, with a life-preserver fastened so around him that he could not drown, but with his hands and feet bound, making swimming impossible. All he could do was float and drift with the tide. The only thing which surprised Mark Brompton in his conversation with Edward Yaughen was to learn definitely that Keen & Sliarp were the parties who had charge of the "deal" by which he would bQ forced into a losing game. III lu il I'J 320 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. *t^ lit # ; For some years Mr. Brompton liad recognized the feasibility of a great railroad system in the West and South, connecting a number of roads which were now in opposition. Without acquainting anyone of his purpose he began buying up large blocks of these various stocks. This b^iying had been going on for some time, so that his holdings were enormous. Vir- tually he had the market in his hand. To perfect the system one short connection was necessary. It was therefore of the utmost importance that this bo secm'cd. For years that stock was practically value- less. It had not paid any dividends for a long time, and the cliances were that it would never pay any. Mr. Brompton had his agents on the lookout among the farmers and country people for such of this stock as could be found. Quiet, innocent-looking men these agents were. Some of them were so demure and pious-looking that they seemed more like Bible distributers or Tract Society visitors than anything else. " Ah calcurlate that er money is just as good as found," old Jake Ileymough said to his wife, after Mr. Brompton's agent had gone and he was counting over the roll of bills which the agent had given him in exchange for his stock. *' 'Tisn't quite writ in the Book about a fool an' his money bein' soon parted ; it's true, though," said Deacon Swingsyth, after he had disposed of what to him was only a useless piece of paper. Deacon Swingsyth did not make this remark in the presence of Mr. Brompton's agent, a mild, soft-voiced young man. AN EVENING AT MR. KEEN'S. 321 ion nee " For 'sperimentin', I s'pose ? " questioned Squire Bredstock. " Good, nice road ; well built — just the road for 'speriments." The squire could speuk feel- ingly with regard to " 'sporinients." llis stock in the X., Y. & Z. had not, though, been quite the suc- cess he so confidently expected. So the buying went on, every little while another certificate coming in to Mr. Brompton. One thing certain — he had enough ofi that stock quietly laid away to give him control. Keen & Sharp never dreamed of what Mark Brompton had done. They knew, however, that there was a " big deal" on hand. They knew also that the purpose of this deal was to give Mark Brompton a squeeze to which the hug of a Russian bear would be only a gentle embrace. " Young Brompton was in the office this morning. He seems quite intimate with Yaughen. They went out together at lunch time.'' Mr. Keen made these remarks to Khea one even- ing, not, however, looking up from the paper which he was scanning with some care. ** That is only natural, seeing they are cousins," Miss Keen answered, rising from her chair as she spoke, and going over to another part of the room where he^ face would be more in the shadow. " Now that your mother is so much better," he went on, after a short pause, still looking at the paper, " you ought to have a little gathering of your friends sometime soon." "Would it not l)e better to wait so that mamma can take her usual place? Two or three of her affairs have been postponed." 21 i :* 322 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. " O, I don't mean anything formal. Just a few of your own friends — the young people of the Bromp- tons, and the Disneys, and two or three othei's. Of course you will have to invite Von der Plonk, also that radical parson, Dunbar, who means to con- vert the East Side into a public park and have me- chanics ride about in carriages. When a parson sets out to be a fool he usually makes a big success of it. Vaughen, I suppose, had better come." Though Mr. Keen was very much absorbed in business, giving his entire time almost to the special matters which were now on hand, yet he had noticed that Rhea looked anxious and careworn. This he attributed to the illness of her mother ; for sickness, when long continued, always depresses and exhausts the household. Hence he proposed some little break in the monotony of Rhea's life, with the hope of arousing her to her former brightness and vigor. But there was another motive at work. Now that Madge Disney was accepting the evident attentions of Hugli Dunbar, there w^as no reason why Percy Brompton should not become in good time a member of the Keen household. If his present plans resulted successfully Mr. Keen would make considerable money. But what to him was of even more conse- quence than the money, he would have an assured po- sition as the leader of new and important movements. The fact that both the money and the leadership would be at Mark Brompton's expense had no weight with him. His understanding of life was simply every man for himself. Then, on the other hand, if by any means his plans AN EVENING AT MR. KEEN'S. 323 ht failed — though he could not imagine such a thing possible — the engagement, perhaps marriage, of liis daughter to Percy Brompton would be as an anchor to the windward, so that he could easily outride the storm. If anyone had told Mr. Keen that he was now on that awful mountain top where the most terrible temptations of life are experienced he would have turned away with an incredulous smile, or even laughed outright at the mediaeval suggestion. And yet he was on that mountain top. To gratify his ambitions he had cast aside almost everything of honesty. He was working treacherously against the man who had befriended him. Yea, he would ac- tually sell his daughter to that man's son, counting out as of no moment whatever the possibilities of her lifelong misery ! "O, you should have seen John!" said Madge Disney, in her lively, impetuous way — a way which not infrequently resulted in a certain colloquial foi'in of expression which, while it was vivid and pictur- esque, was not up to the high standard of her elegant father. " When I came home that evening from a musicale at the Savoy — you remember that musicaJe, Janet, where the^ew tenor, Gamutino, sang so di- vinely — I inquired the moment I got into the house for my illustrious brother. Going to his room, I found him anything but an ideal of manly beauty. He was plastered and bandaged like some old Pharisee, with a phylactery of vast proportions on his head, two or three smaller ones on his hands, and with wounds and bruises all over him." 324 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. "Are you not putting it rather strong, or is it that poetic gift of yours which confuses fact with fancy ? " John suggested, meantiine smiling at the picture which Madge had just sketched with tliat nimble tongue of hers, " Truth, my dear brother, is always stranger than fiction. Nor could any poet or romancer of this gen- eration do justice to the crushed, broken, helpless warrior who looked out despairingly from under his burden of bandages in response to my agonized ap- peal." John offered no further protest, so Madge went on with her fianiingo-colored account of her brother's condition as she found him on the night when he went to the rescue of Fred Sauvier. It will be seen that Miss Keen had accepted her father's suggestion, and it will also be seen that the young people were having a very lively time. Even Ilendrik Yon dor Plonk said " Gad " at least twice during Madge's recital, which showed a high condi- tion of mental activity on his part. Ethel Brompton could hardly believe her ears when she heard the second exclamation from Hendrik — turning to look at him with more interest than at any time since their engagement. ^ As for Hugh Dunbar, he gave full proof that even- ing of his membership in the Church militant, for when John, in sheer self-defense, was forced to tell the story from the beginning Dunbar rubbed his hands in a way which was not at all saintly. There was also a certain gleam in his eye, not to speak of a peculiar look on his face, which gave the distinct AN EVENING AT MR. KEEN'S. 325 iiripressioii that ho would have enjoyed being in tho light. There may be those who can cxphiin it — fur there are people who have an explanation for everything — still it is singular, to say the least, that when Madge caught Punbar unconsciously nuiking iisti- cuff gestures she actually liked him all tho better for it ! Janet Brompton asked in a kindly way about Fred Sauvier, for John was so modest as to be barely truthful. J hit the rarity of such a sin is so great as to make it self-forgiving. Madge recalled the day when Ethel, Janet, and herself went to the store of Linsey & Woolsey, there meeting Miss Sauvier, whereupon Janet declared that she would go to Linsey tfe Woolsey's the very next day to congratulate Miss Sauvier on having such an heroic brother. It should be said just here — though why it should be said either here or anywhere else is not quite clear — but from the day Madge made the acquaint- ance of Miss Sauvier, every time she was in the store of Linsey & Woolsey she went upstairs to " cloaks and wraps " and had a little chat with Oberta. And it should also be said here — though for what reason goodness only knows — in that little chat the name of Dunbar was sure of being mentioned. "Your mother lives in Eastwich, you say?" Miss Keen said to Edward Vauglien, as they sat some lit- tle distance from the general group, talking in low tones. " And are you her only son ? " " Only son, and, for that matter, only child. My i f j# 1/ MW 326 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. mother and I are very dear to ctich other. I liope Bometime to have lier with me in New York." " Then you expect to remain licre pennanently ? " " Yes. When I lirst came I was not quite certain. I am now." "Of course in the beginning you were lonely. Ever thing was so new and strange that you could not be expected to feel like * settling down,' as we call it. But after a time that feeling wears off." " Yes, that may be. The cause, though, is not what you think it is. The reason — " Here Ed- ward raised his eyes; at the same moment Miss Keen raised her eyes, with the result that their eyes met in one of those long, strange, mysterious looks when hearts reveal tliemselves to each other. Now both of tliese young people were very foolish. We might go so far as to say they were inexcusably foolish. Miss Keen knew that her father would angrily refuse any proposal wliich Edward Vaughen might make. Slie also knew that he was poor ; that he would be poor for many years to come, and that she would not consent to share a poor man's home. Edward knew that as matters now stood it was the veriest folly for him to even think of Miss Keen ; that he would not have a home worthy of her for years, if ever. And yet they had looked into each other's eyes, each hoping to find the secret of the other. But now that the secret had been revealed, each sat still and frightened, not knowing just what to do. Bhea was the first to recover herself, so with a few AN EVENING AT MR. KEEN'S. 327 commonplace words elm managed to turn tlic conver- fiation away from that nntiiuKhed sentence of Ed- ward's. In a few moments she joined the group in -ho other part of tlio room. Before Edward Iiad an opportunity to supply the missing words— in case ho BC desired— the company broke up for the evening. 328 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. CHAPTER XXXY. A Black Eye. OF course it was impossible to keep that affair of John Disney and Fred Sauvier out of the papers. Police news reporters, when they once get hold of such a sensational affair, attend to it in their own lurid and characteristic way. So there were startling headlines, heavy type summa- ries, any quantity of vivid description, interspersed with photographs and sketches. The photograj^hs were taken out of that marvelous collection which every city newspaper keeps on hand, answering equally well for preachers and pugilists, authors or anarchists, though usually with no more relation to what they are supposed to stand for than the man in the moon has to Angelo's " Moses." The sketches were made by " our own reporter," who was probably not within five miles of the place at the time of the struggle, but who gathered up all the news from the police. Then there were biographies of the principal characters going back not only to their childhood, but to their ancestors of remote generations. The name of " Sauvier " was proven to be dis- tinctly French, easily traced to the time of William of Normandy. The courage, therefore, which the young man showed was only natural to one whose ancestors had fought at the battle of Hastings. A BLACK EYE. 329 or to Of " Disney " it was established beyond all per- adventure as belonging to a branch of an old Border clan, which had made common cause with Sir Wil- liam Wallace. This easily explained his daring and unconquerable spirit. Every item in the history of each family was gathered up with greater care than ICuth gleaned in the fields of Boaz, so that by the time the reporters had got through with the case every uncle, aunt, cousin, and grandmother had been thoroughly exploited. For days, in type an inch long and correspond- ingly broad, one might read : " Murderous Attack ! " "The Son of a Distinguished Physician Proves Himself a Hero ! " *' Damon and Pythias in New York." As the men under arrest were identified as laborers and yard men in the Tubal-Cain Iron Works, whose wages were not attractively high, some of the papers worked off rampant editorials on " Labor Conditions in Xew York." Others hinted at " Startling Kevelations " to be made at the forth- coming trial. Though the work was not in the line of Mr. Faber'S wishes, yet it fell to his lot to report it for the Trombone. He called, therefore, on the Sauviers, getting from Fred a full account of the trouble from beginning to end. Mr. Faber never had a case to which he gave such close, direct, and personal attention. If Fred Sauvier, at the coming trial, was going to be the defendant, with Mr. Faber as his counsel in chief, Dixon could not have gone with more minuteness into every detail and circum- stance. And what was even mor^ singular, he ;30 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. i la seemed as fully satisfied with the information which he got from Oberta as that given him by Fred ! Even after the papers had gi"en up special mention of the affair — for there is no such thing as a nine-days' won- der in New York — he still continued liis attentions to the Sauvier home. Fred enjoyed Faber's bright, breezy way, and urged him to come in as often as he could spare the time. Just how he happened to know that Oberta was no longer at home in the early part of the day — for after the first week she had gone back to Linsey & Wool- seys' — wo cannot tell. Anyhow the "dropping in" was always in the evenings. And it was remark- able how much of his work brought him to that part of the city ! "When Fred Sauvier was able to go back to his place in the office Faber had to call to inquire if there was likely to be any more trouble with the men. Then he had to call an evening or two later to ask something about Jolin Disney. Another time he wanted special information on some matter con- nected with the iron interests, of which he knew more in his little finger than Fred did in his whole body. After this he had tickets, usually only two, to some specially fine entertainments. Fred couldn't go, Mrs. Sauvier had to remain at home with Fred. The burden of using the tickets therefore fell upon Oberta and himself. So it went on, " as it was m the beginning, is now, and ever shall be." John Disney, being partial to athletics and having played football on the college team, did not attach A BLACK EYE. 331 mucli importance to the cuts and scratches which he received on that eventful evening. Still, for some days he remained at horns in a seclusion whicli no one outside the immediate family was permitted to invade. For one thing he had a hlack eye ; not such a black eye as may be acquired by accident, but one whicli proves that the bearer thereof has been in a regular scrimmage. And what an obstinate, obdurate, obtrusive, ob- jectionable object a black optic is! It has an evil look. It glares at you in a way tliat is diabolical. It cuts off all relationship with the other eye. It re- fuses absolutely and positively to withdraw itself from publicity. A green patch doesn't help matters. Blue goggles only make things worse. For the time a black eye is monarch of all it surveys. It was surely one which suggested " great eye and little you." Not far from the black eye was a swollen nose. "Not far "is written advisedly, for while as a gen- eral thing the eye and the nose are seldom far apart, yet there is a recognized distance arranged for by nature. But in John's case the nose insisted upon humping itself most aggressively, occupying more facial territory than was ever written in the bond. And so the black eye glared down at the humped nose. The humped nose defiantly lifted itself before the black eye. Each, of course, had its friends, so John's face was in general warfare. Now, one would think when a poor fellow was in such plight as this that at least the members of his own household would pity him profoundly. ill if.M 332 DV,ELLERS IN GOTHAM. It is true Madge would begin, " You dear, poor boy ! " but then she would smile, the sraile ending off in a laugh, giggle and snicker, just half and half. Then she would apologize, but the apology usu- ally ended where the smile did. " Some people are very easily amused," John took occasion to say once by way of rebuke, but catching a glimpse of his face just then in a mirror opposite he laughed himself, much to the annoyance of his upper lip, upon which a piece of court-plaster was exercising squatters' rights. Even Mrs. Disney, gentle and motherly as she was, could not forbear a smile when the black eye would try to make an exception in her favor and not look quite so malignant. Dr. Disney, having had " accident ward " practice in his time, was accustomed to seeing young men very much in the condition of John. He was not, therefore, alarmed, and poked some fun at John now and then. One evening when they were by themselves John gave his father all of the particulars of the fight and what led up to it. Dr. Disney being a very bupy man, exceptionally so just then, had not troubled himself with newspaper reports, so that all he knew was that John and another clerk in the iron works had been attacked by some disappointed employees. John began at the beginning, going on without interruption until he mentioned the name of Sauvier, when the doctor started, but instantly checked him- self. His face, though, became deathly pale, and had that haunted, frightened look which at times came il ^ A BLACK EYE. 333 upon him. \8 the room was comparatively dark — for John's eye became more painful in the light — Dr. Disney's agitation was not noticed. Being a man of superb self-control, he soon mastered his feelings, so that by the time John had finished he was able to take his part in the conversation. " What sort of a young man is this Sauvier ? " he asked. "A first-rate fellow, though, of course, I don't know much about him except what I have seen in the office.'* " Are his people living in the city ? " John did not dream of the intense anxiety with which Dr. Disney waited for his reply. After all, the name, though uncommon, might be only a coinci- dence, or at most a remote connection of the Sauviers with whom he was related. " I have heard him speak of a mother and sister. I take it that the fatlier is dead." " You say there is a sister ? " the doctor went on, putting his hand to his face as though to smooth it down, a favorite gesture of his, but in this case to account for a palpable unevenness in his voice. " Yes, and once or twice when speaking of her he mentioned her name — Oberta, if I remember cor- rectly." Dr. Disney said no more just then, but sat with his hand so shading his face that even had the light been good John could not have seen how troubled and distressed it was. There was now hardly the possibility of a doubt but that Bertha Sauvier was in N'ew York. He had tried to find out where fehe had gone ; for when Fred Sauvier went to prison, an 4 Hi y '*t|; 334 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. !i . *■ V ; her home was broken up in disgrace, she went away, no one could tell where. He did not know that on every visiting day a sad- faced woman came to the prison, waiting at the door for the moment to arrive when she would be ad- mitted. Neither did he know that when fi'red Sauvier died broktn-hearted, years before his sen- tence was even half completed, she took the poor, emaciated body and gave it holy burial. He did not know either that the grave in which that body slept was lovingly cared for by the woman whom he had so foully wronged, not even the pitiless winter interfering with her pilgrimage to that little hillock, lying so pathetically under the snow. Still less did he know that when he had gone to the place of burial, but a few miles distant from his present home, with some of his friends who had entered the realm of mystery and silence, he had seen the poor, lone woman, standing pitifully at this very grave, sometimes bending over it as a mother over a sleeping child. " I know," said John, speaking after a long pause, for he had been waiting on his father to resume the conversation, " how your time is taken up. Still I wish you could manage to call on Fred Sauvier. He has been very kind to me in the office, and the poor fellow was pretty well used up before I got to him." " I hardly know just how I can manage it, for the present at any rate," the doctor replied, speaking as calmly as he could ; but his voice, at least to him- self, sounded strange and forced, almost as if it came from another man. A BLACK EYE. 335 John said no more, but his silence only added to the pain and distress of his father, for Dr. Disney knew tliat John was disappointed in the refusal of his very natural request. But how could he call upon the Sauvicrs ? How could he meet the woman whose life he had ruined and whose terrible curse was ever ringing in his ears. Of physical cowardice he knew nothi.ig whatever. He had faced death in almost every form. Without a moment's hesitation he had gone into homes laden with t]^ most malig- nant disease, where every breath was poison, and with a courage which would have made him a hero on the battlefield accepted the chances such as they were. He could face death without flinching, fighting with supreme daring for his patient amid the most reeking and dangerous conditions ; still he dare not meet Bertha Sauvier ! Yet of what crime had he been guilty ? "Where was the one who could point to a single law upon the statute book which he had broken? Who could show cause against him in any one particular, or produce the slightest shred of evidence upon which he might be condemned ? What if Mrs. Sauvier did denounce him ? Would not her charges be taken as the ravings of a demented woman, whose husband, while under sentence for forgery, had died in prison ? But, while Dr. Disney could dispose of the crimi- nal code, he could not dispose of conscience. For the code he cared very little, but for conscience he cared a great deal, because conscience was implaca- ble. With all the strength of his imperious will he ' 'i 336 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. liad tried to forget that sin of so many years ago, but it sternly refused to be forgotten. One tiling, however, he was determined on — he would not see the Sauviers. He would temporize with John, for appearance' sake make conditional promises, but he would so arrange his work as to make the visit an impossibility. As a last resort he would even leave the city for the time being. Meet Mrs. Sauvier he would not. Upon that he was fully resolved. " There is no immediate hurry," he said to John, as he rose up and was preparing to go out, " in this matter of cabling upon these people. Perhaps in a day or two I may be able to manage it." " No hurry at all," answered John, much grati- fied at his father's response. " But it would greatly please me, and I am sure it would gratify the Sauviers." That night Dr. Disney slept badly. Not even the drus: which we have seen him take once before was powerful enough to induce dreamless unconscious- ness. )■' ., r^ CONCERNING MRS. SMITHERS. 337 CHAPTER XXXYI. Concerning Mrs. Smithers. yV JTRS. SILAS SMITHERS was by no means ( y I an extraordinary woman, but there was one X, thing she could do, and do it . jU — make an attractive, winsome, comfortable home. The arm- chair in which Silas sat, when after liis day's work ho read the evening pit]3er and smoked his stubby brier- wood pipe, was an illustration of her genius and skill. This chair she had found in a secondhand furniture store on the avenue, a short distance from her home. The dealer was glad to sell it for almost anything slie would give, for it took up considerable room, and ho was afraid would have to be broken up for firewood. She saw possibilities in the chair, and bought it. Silas had work just then which took him out of town for a week, so she spent most of that week in fixing up the chair. A few yards of cheap cretonne of an agreeable pattern were used in making new cushions for the back and seat, as well as re-covering the arms. Then with Jamie's help she put in new casters and about a score of large-head brass nails to keep in place some braid which she used for binding. When Silas got home the chair was wheeled up beside a little table upon which a lamp was burning and where the paper was ready for his perusal. Silas could hardly take time that evening to eat; "'9 H^ tid . f" .k fj. ' I , .i' I i4!l^ 81 '"If i! 338 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. his Biippcr, he was so anxious to get into tho arm- chair. How conifortablo ho looked as lie sat in it 1 Wluit nice things he said about his Mollio I It wasn't every week that Mrs. Sniithers could in- dulge in such a luxury as this, though all told it did not cost as much as a pair of Madge Disney's street gloves. But she picked up sundry odds and ends, setting each off to the best advantage. There were two or three little ornaments on the mantelpiece ; one of them was more than an ornament, for it was a clock which kept excellent time. At Christmas she would allow Silas to make her a present of a picture of some kind, usually a chromo, for she was partial to colors. Her own attempts at fancywork were not either beautiful or fine, but they were effective, which, after all, is the main thing. She therefore worked a mat for the lamp and covers for the two little tables which stood in the windows. A few pennies judiciously expended in Japanese fans supplemented the chromes, so that the room — parlor, sitting room, and dining room, all in one — gave the appearance of being quite pleasantly furnished. So long as Silas had steady work Mrs. Smithers was able to keep her home in good running order, even adding a trifle almost every month to their account in the savings bank ; but when work fell off one third, then one half, then down to stray jobs of a day or two, with some weeks not even that, the Smithers house- hold felt the pinch very severely. And then — for misfortunes are never solitary things which, like milestones, we pass one at a time — little Jamie was forced to give up carving, as he could no ^ CONCERNING MRS. SMITHERS. 339 mg the two, use- Ill gs ittlo no longer do any work. The fight that boy made was worthy of the Victoria Cross. But there came a time when the poor, trail body was not able to sit even in his own chair, liiit was forced to lie helpless on the bed. And now it was ^Irs. Smithcrs's turn to earn the bread for the family. Silas could not find work any- where. Their little savings wcio entirely exhausted. No money whatever was coming in, and there were five of them to be provided for. l^frs. Smithers ac- cordingly went to the manufacturers of certain arti- cles of apparel, such as che;ip, common shirts for men and the rougher, coarser kind of boys' cloth- ing, who gave out work which might be done at home. By working at her sewing nuichine all day, sometimes well on into the night, she was able to earn hardly more than would pay the rent. "What could they do? AVhere would they go? The city had nothing for them but a ])()orhouse, and the poorhouse is the last refuge of honest poverty, for, after all, it is not much better than the conunon jail. In sheer despair Mrs. Smithcrs made application to a charity bureau, where she received about the same treatment as that described by Mr. Sterling to Hugh Dunbar. The next day, or possibly a few days after, an agent made his appearance in the Smithers home. He saw a little bit of carpet on the floor, two or three little pictures on the walls, the big armchair which had been rescued from tlio woodpile, the sewinsc machine at which Mrs. Smithers was able to earn three cents an hour, whereupon he turned 340 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. 'iff 1 i ■f S s i i, 1 1 1 i 1 on Ilia heel witli the remark, *' People with carpets oil their floors and pictures on their walls, and a house furnished with armchairs and sewing machines, have no business to make application for help." With this he went out, leaving them more hopeless than when he came in. lie did not see a boy ahnost dying for lack of proper nvuirishment and medical care; he did not sec a woman who had worked all day without hardly a morsel of food crossing her lips; ho did not see a man who was on the verge of des2)air through lack of work and anxiety for his family ; ho did not see a fire which was dying in the stove, WMtli not a handful of coal to keep it living ; he did not see a larder which was absolutely empty, and that these 2ieoi)le were a-ctually suffering with hunger — O, the number of things which that agent did not see! Now, if Silas Smithers, under the stress of hunger, or the still greater woe of seeing hunger in his house which he could not relieve, should become a phre- netic, and in a moment of wild, hopeless passion murderously attack the members of his family, in- stantly he will be taken care of by tlic State. His cell in the prison will be crowded with eager visitors; charitable women will vie with each other in their attentions to the distinguished criminal ; nothing will be left undone that would promote his peace and well- being ; the commonwealth will spend thousands of dollars upon his trial ; his name will appear in every newspaper in the country, making him as widely known as if he had been a hero or benefactor of national celebrity. But as an honest mechanic, out CONCERNING MRS. SMITHERS 341 ;oi's ; heir will i^ell- 8 of dely of out of work and hungry, Sihis Sniithera may starve to deatli ! Sister Nora liad been absent from tlio city for eomo weeks. When she returned almost her lirst inquiry was for Jamie Smitliers. ^Ir. Sterling gave her to understand that tilings were not going well with Jamie nor with the Smithers family. The very next day she went to see them. " "What I gone to bed ! " she said to Jamie, as she took the little fellow by tlie liand, feeling instantly the fever which was throbbing in his blood. "And 1 have a friend who must have a whole lot of your carvings. So anxious is he to get bis work done first that he insisted upon payment in advance." With tliat she took out two five-dollar bills, laying them down on the little table beside the bed. The boy's eyes sparkled with pleasure, and Ids poor, wasted face lit up at her sweet, grateful wci Js. Then she laid her cool, strong hand upon his hot forehead, giving him a strange sense of comfort and relief. And was there ever anything quite so delicious as that spoonful or two of jelly which she made him take, or those few sips of cooling drink ? Already Jamie felt better — at least lie thought so, and his face had a more grateful, contented look than for several days. " Do you think Mr. Smithers could find time to do some work in a house over on Fifth Avenue?" she asked Mrs. Smithers, not once intimating that Silas was out of employment. "I know of a house in which a carpenter is sadly needed, for there are a lot of things to be done." ii'» : 342 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. Tlie house was her own, but she did not say so; neither did she intend tliat Silas Smithers should know. Her one thought was to get him something to do, as it was work, and not charitjj which he was in need of. By this time Jamie was fast asleep, of which Sister Nora took advantage to slip out, but not until she had given Mrs. Smithers the address to which biias would go in the morning, where she would meet him and arrange for the work of which she had spoken. Poor Silas came in soon after utterly exhausted, having tramped about all day looking for work, only to meet with the same discouraging reply. But he had not even crossed the threshold before Mollie had her arms about his neck and with tears of joy stream- ing* down her face told him of the visit of Sister Nora and of the work which awaited him on the morrow. Then Silas broke dowm'and sobbed like a child. For weeks he had borne up as best he could. No man could have made a braver fight. But when he saw his patient " Mollie " working all day over the sewing machine, not eating enough to keep her alive ; when he saw his poor wee Jamie actually dying be- fore his eyes ; when he knew that Effie and Bob were hungry and that he had no means of buying bread, he was tempted to give up in despair. And so he went all to pieces. His big, rugged frame quivered, and he wept as a man weeps but few times in his life. "What an evening that was for all of them ! Mrs. Smithers, now that Silas was going to work on the CONCERNING MRS. SMITHERS. 343 so; ive; morrow, " borrowed " some of Jamie's carving money, going out to the store and coming in with a big bas- ketful of things. In a time so short as to be almost magical something was simmering on the kitchen stove which diffused a grateful odor all through the little apartment. Effie was busy helping her mother to set the table in a way not very common of late. Bob was going in and out on all kinds of errands, and doing it, too, with great cheerfulness. A iiro was kindled in the " sitting " room stove. The lamp was filled and set in its old place. The big armchair was wheeled over near to the lamp. Mrs. Sn)ithers (^* Bless her dear heart ! " Silas said), in the midst of the multitude of her cares that evening, had not forgot- ten her husband's one luxury ; so the old brierwood pipe came to the fore again, for she had bought him a paper of tobacco. Jamie was carried from his bed to the room where they all were, at first sitting with his father in the big chair ; then, when the table was cleared away and everything was put to rights, he crept into his mother's arms, where after a little while he fell asleep. That same evening Jolm Disney had been at the Mission to see the opening of another department, for Hugh Dunbar was constantly adding some- thing or other. After the more formal exercises John went in with Hugh to a little private room which Dunbar called his " snuggery." John dropped contentedly into a big oasy chair, while Dunbar took another of much the same ordf r. " O, I am making discoveries all the time ! " Dun- bar said, in reply to a question of John, " One of ,*■ I'' ii i! It :,i 1' ' ii1 It 1 i! 344 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. my latest is that the deepest poverty is not the result of strong drink." " Tliut would have surprised me a year ago," an- swered John, " but it does not surprise me now." " 1 used to accept as gospel the things that men said about pauperism and drink," Dunbar went on ; " but I know better now." " Suppose you let in a little of your superfluous light on me. In a chair so comfortable as this one could almost endure a sermon." " Then here goes. In my opinion, the crime of our city — that is, tlie common, coarse, brutal crime — is largely traceable to strong drink ; and so, also, is much of the poverty ; but it is a low, vulgar kind of poverty, which may be relieved by charity. Now, the real, deep poverty has causes of an altogether differ- ent nature." " So far the sermon is fairly interesting, but with more assertion than argument." " Then let me bring forward the proofs. You have heard me speak of Silas Smithers ? " John nodded. " Well, Smithers is a carpenter — a house carpen- ter, one of the most steady, industrious men in New York. Now, Smithers is out of work ; but what is far w^orse, he can't get work ; and there are thousands of men like him with nothing to do and with no prospect of anything to do." " You mean to tell me that there are thousands of house carpenters in this city out of work ? " John questioned, with an incredulous air. " It is very evident that you are yet * in the gall of .^^ CONCERNING MRS. SMITHERS. 345 ith of in lof bitterness and in the bond of iniquity ' so far as the in- dustrial problem is concerned. Do you not know that one trade is so related to another that no one can suf- fer without the others feeling it almost if not quite as much ? " " No, I do not know it ; and what is more, I doubt if you do either." " Then listen, you incorrigible doubter. Because the stone masons are not at work, the bricklayers are idle ; because the bricklayers are idle, the carpenters have nothing to do ; because the carpenters have nothing to do, the plasterers, slaters, painters, plumb- ers, paperhangers are all unemployed. Hence the furniture men close their factories, the carpet men shut down their mills, and the result is widespread poverty." " The sermon is interesting, but rather lengthy," John remarked. " The end is coming ; have patience. Now, when the question of poverty has come up I used to con- tent myself by saying, * The poor are themselves to blame ; they waste their wages in drink ; they are un- thrifty; they are careless and extravagant.' But 1 know better now. The question that troubles me is not concerning the poor, miserable wretch who wastes his money in a pothouse, but the problem of this great army of honest, sober men of whom Silas Smithers is a fair type." " The sermon nears the end. Now put in the ap- plication." John was far more serious than he pretended to be. Dunbar, however, knew tliis. w\ 346 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. 1 '1 4 1 i ■ '1 1 t ;■ i ■- " The application is this : These silly dreamers and * press-the-button ' philosophers, who think they can change things by petty legislation and cheap re- forms, are so far gone in their delusions that there is no hope for them. As for the working people, with their strikes and brotherhoods, they are as helpless as Canute at the incoming of the sea. The only cure is the development of a principle which has been in the world for nearly two thousand years That principle is simply the Christianization of lusiness. Any man, therefore, who will really solve the problem of the age must Christianize his business. He nmst apply the Golden Rule in his workshop and counting house. In time this spirit will prevail with the workmen, and the question will be settled for all time to come. But the sermon is ended. It is time you were going home." It was late that night, very late, when John got home, but Madge was waiting up for him. Know- ing that he had been at the Mission, she was anxious to hear how everything passed off. She was now quite interested in the Mission, though not, it must be admitted, to the same extent that she was in Hugh Dunbar. After John had lighted his pipe (he always smoked the last thing at night — a most reprehensible and un- healthy thing to do) he reached over to the chair where Madge was sitting and, laying his hand lov- ingly upon hers, said : " Madge, Hugh Dunbar is a noble fellow. Unless you mean * playing for keeps,' to use an expression of our childhood, you ought to give him a hint I am CONCERNING MRS. SMITHERS. 347 very fond of him and would feel badly if he m)t hurt." " It is all right, John," Madge answered, in a low tone. "This time it is Splaying for keeps/ and not much playing either." Whereupon John kissed her, and they parted lor the night. I IHj b- n t< t ;■. y i i T •m ■ 1 1 1 i 1 •i. 1 348 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. CHAPTER XXXVII. Ethel Brompton's Wedding. OF course Ethel Bronipton got married, and of course tliere was a wedding of becoming pomp and circumstance. For weeks preceding the august event the usual preparations had been going on, involving any num- ber of visits to dressmakers and milliners and drj^goods stores, for it was of the utmost importance that Ethel be not only handsomely gowned on the day when she became Mrs. Von der Plonk, but that she enter upon her new life with such an array of gowns as would entitle her to distinguished consideration. These were busy days in the Brompton mansion. The house was in a regular bustle. Every few tuin- utes a wagon of some kind stopped at the door with a bundle or a package. Messenger boys brought cardboard boxes of all shapes and dimensions. EthePs rooms, though carefully arranged every morning, were all littered up before night. Janet was having about the same experience. So w^as Mrs. Brompton. Even Mr. Brompton had to surrender the library for the time being. Later on the wedding presents began to come in, which only added to the confusion and excitement. On the principle which is never more fully illus- trated than at weddings — " to him that hath shall be given " — the presents were both numerous and costly. ,,.»; ETHEL BROMPTON'S WEDDING. 349 ly- — any quantity of fine cut glass, delicate china, ex- quisite bronze, bric-a-brac of every imaginable de- scription, dainty little water colors, paintings in oil, fans, clocks, silver by the bushel, dinner services, crates of Royal Worcester, of Limoges, of Dresden, of Beleek, rare old lace, shawls from Cashmere, rugs from Persia, furs from Russia, everything, in fact, that money could buy, with everything repeated over and over again. Meanwhile Mr. Coke, of the eminent legal firm Coke & Littleton, and Mr. Blackstone, of the equally eminent firm Erskine & Blackstone, the one repre- senting Mark Bromp^^on, the other representing Hendrik Von der Plonk, luid charge of the marriage settlements. What a singular thing it is that when a rich man's daughter is going to be married to a rich man's son a lawyer has to stand guard over the settle- ments lest the one in some way obtains an advantage over the other ! But the one person of all others who enjoyed these days was Mrs. Brompton. Never was she quite so stately as now, nor more thoroughly appreciated the honors of her situation. This marriage of Ethel with young Yon der Plonk was the realization of her most fondly cherished hopes. Unlike Hugh Dunbar, she did not possess a grandfather, either living or dead. Neither did her husband. He did not even possess a father, for it was known everyv/here that Mark Brompton came to New York as a poor boy, from which lowly condition he had worked himself up. Time and again she had gone over her family tree, hoping to find something of Norman blood, but try ^ki i m i] ' .1 I i:''^ i 350 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. as she would she could reach nothing more noble t'lan tailors or weavers or shoemakers. Finally when Jie ran out her branch on the tree to Jod Snipkiub, w ho married Nancy Ann Bilks, sIk^ gave up her g- ne- alogioal studies. Lut TOT, through Ethel'.s marriage, she will have kintiiip ,ith people who have any number of grand- fatli'Ts. for the Yon der Plonks were here long be- fore Coii. bus! If that worthy had only known enouejh to sail his caravels into New York harbor the Yon der Plonks would have met him at the wharf and extended the i?ospitalities of the city. In the various shopping expeditions which Ethel was required to make Mrs. Bromj)ton nearly ab ays accompanied her; giving her judgment on carpets, furniture, hangings, on all of therecpiisitesforthe new home, with the superb dignity of a duchess whose pedigre'3 was four yards long. But wliile she was so delightfully absorbed she did not forget the possibilities of a letter from South America. By this time David Stanley would probably have heard of what was going on. The young man had friends in New York who could not keep back an event of such impov'tance. If he wrote to Ethel, his letter, contnining reproaches and regrets, as it surely would, could do nothing but harm. She therefore left word with the footman to have all foreign letters put aside and given to her privately. Right glad was she of this arrangement, for one afternoon the dreaded letter came. For a few mo- ments she held it in her hand, not knowing just what to do with it. Mrs. Brompton knew that under the ETHEL BROMPTON'S WEDDING. 351 have have lately, one mo- I what [r the law that letter should have hecn given to ; .'thel. Etliel had a right to it, for slie was its lawful wiier. But Itirs. Brompton reasoned that she was Ethel's mother; that this letter was dangerous, and if given up might seriously alleet EthePs future. Mrs. Bromj)- ton was too honorable to read it, hut not too honorahle to steal it. She was too high-minded to open it, but her high-mindedness did not prevent her from bribing the footman to purloin it. And so she stood there ant' 'ided. What a pity that Mrs. Brompton liad iie».?r learned that honesty is the best policy ! The gi. ' ig of tliat letter to Ethel would most assuredly hu^^ broken off her approaching nuirriage to Yon der Plouiv, but Mrs. Brompton herself would have been the first to counsel this very thing. And Mrs. Brompton would have held her head higher than ever, glorying even in the broken en- gagement, for this is what the letter contained : " My Dear Ethel : The most extraordinary thing has happened. Through a succession of deaths, two of them accidental, and all of them entirely unex- pected, the estates and duchy of Paddington now fall to me. Last Saturday I heard from the lawyers who have the estates in charge, and with wliom I liave been in cable communication almost every hour since. There is now not a doubt as to the fact that I am the next of kin. I w^ould have telegraphed you, but I did not wish to say anything until I was certain. Be- sides, telegrams are not only unsatisfactory things, but they soon become ])ublic property. This I was anxious to avoid, preferring the matter to remain q^uiet for the present— our secret, yours and m:ne. #- C^ (?^' I % ,('• III 352 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. h' " I start to-day for England, sailing direct from liere. If you write within a day or two after receiv- ing this it will reach me as soon as I laud. Direct to me at Bank of England. " Now, my darling, I can offer you a home and a name which are worthy of you. Our weary waiting will soon end. Forgive me for not writing at greater length, but you can easily imagine how anxious and excited I am. (Another cable despatch delivered just this moment ; it is addressed to the Duke of Paddington !) Think of my Ethel as a duchess ! Ah ! she is more than a duchess to me. She is my queen ! God bless you and keep you till I come for you. Ever your David." Mrs. Brompton stood with the unopened letter in her hand. She turned it over, looking one time at the address, which seemed to be very plain and large, then at the postmarks, some of which were not distinct. She weighted it on her fingers, all the time wondering just what was best to do. Once she wished the footman had not given it to her, or that Ethel had seen it somehow. Then she lit a match, held the letter to the flame, and when it had burned more than half way down, she carried it to the grate, for she had been in her own sitting-room all this time, where she watched it char through in every part. Then she carefully washed her hands, and after a time began to dress for dinner. The embers crisped and crackled in the grate, as burnt letters always do, and with each crackle Mrs. Brompton's conscience troubled her. She now began to wish that she had not been so precipitate. Certainly she should not have » i ETHEL BROMPTON'S WEDDING. 353 burned it. So she went over to the grate with tlic hope that a part of the letter might have escaped. But nothing remained only the black, flaky embers which crumbled at her touch. It was a very brilliant wedding. The church was filled long before the time appointed for the cere- mony. Though there was something of a restraint upon converiation, because of a recognized church propriety, still there was a fair amount of decorous whispering. " I don't see what Hendrik Von der Plonk could find in Ethel Brompton," Miss McSwoodle said to Miss Bronx. " She always seemed to me a snippy, conceited thing, with airs enough, goodness knows." !Miss McSwoodle and Miss Bronx, having been school-girl friends of Ethel, were seated well up front among the special guests. " I have often wondered at that very same thing," Miss Bronx sweetly replied. " But then you know love is blind." " All the love that is in this affair would be lost in my thimble," Miss McSwoodle responded, in a very delicate whisper. This led Miss Bronx to smile a dim, religious smile, for she remembered that she was in a church where smiles only of Gothic architecture are permissible. Then they both gazed seraphically at a stained- glass window through which the noon sun was shining, making very vivid the inscription, "My little chil- dren, let us not love in word, neither in tongr * ; but in deed and in truth." " I hear that the settlements are very generous," 23 ■.y I 354 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. '■\ : '1% said Mrs. Gramercy, turning around in such a way that she was able to Hpcak to her friend, Mrs. Stuy- vcsant, wlio sat in the pew ininKHliutely beliind. *' More than «5cnerous," reHponded Mrs. Stny vcsant. " Von der Plunk has been liberal to a fault." Neither of tlieni knew the Hrst tiling about the settleinentfi. Outbide the lawyers and the principals concerned, not a soul in New Yuik had the faintest inkling of liow the marriage papers read. This, liow- ever, did nut prevent Mrs. (iraniercy and Mrs. Stuyvesant from having a whispered discussion on the subject, even going into sundry details. " I suppose Mrs. Ihompton will ])e more uppish than ever, now that her family is related to tlie Von der Plonks,'' said Mrs. Bayridge to Mrs. Stapleton, both out-of-towners, and both Tcry intimate friends of Mrs. Brompton. " She may feel a little more uppish, but just how she can act more uppish I cannot imagine," was the sweet response of Mrs. Stapleton, spoken, too, with such softness and tenderness that one would think she was repeating the Litany. And so it went on all over the church — whisper- ings in the gallery, whisperings under the gallery, whisperings in the front pews, whisperings in the back pews, whisperings everywhere. And still the people came flocking in, so that the ushers had much trouble to find places for them. Many a stout dowager who had settled down com- fortably was forced to move along in the pew to make room for some other stout dowager. Many a brave gown got badly crumpled. Many a dainty ETHEL BROMPTON'S WEDDING. 355 the iin. )in- to a 't.y costnmo had small chance to display itself. It is to he feared that, church though it was, angry frowns were exchanged more than once among thedo wed- ding guests. For some little time the organ had hceti giving the order of music customary on these occasions — part opera, part oratorio, ])art organist — when all at once the strains of the familiar march were heard. Every- one then knew that the bridal party had arrived. At this moment the liev. Dr. Uland, in full ca- nonicals, appeared in his place, while from a door near the chancel llendrik Yon der Plonk came tor- ward, attended by Percy Prompton. And now comes Ethel Promptou, leaning on the arm of her father, with her sister Janet and Wins Von der Plonk as bridesmaids. Ethel was pale, but cool and collected, responding in clear, distinct tones, while in kneeling to receive the nuptial benediction she was suiHciently conscious to droop gracefully, something which cannot be said of Hendrik, for he bumped down, evidently not liuving calculated the distance from his knees to the cushions. There was no need whatever for llendrik to locjk so flushed and hot as he went down the aisle with Ethel on his arm, or to nearly trip once or twice be- fore he reached the church door, or to give alnujst a gasp of relief when he got fairly inio iho cfl'^'iage. Ethel walked down that aisle with calm tnaceful- ness. Her face was neither hot nor flushed. When Hendrik handed her into the carriage she took time to so adjust her gown as that it would not be crushed or wrinkled. Q ■M , '; t'' - * 356 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. .'i t P'l li I And 60 ihej were married. With the breakfast j^rovided by the famous caterer Chaufrappi, to whicli he gave personal attention — a rare thing for liim to do ; with tlie toasts and re- sponses ; the dei3artnre of Ilendrik and Ethel ; the trip to Europe and the return, we have nothing now to say. It ouglit, though, to be mentioned that tlic notice of the marriage was cabled across the Atlantic for the benefit of the American colony in London, and the stil . larger colony in Paris, which notice aj:>- peared in tho Times of both cities. On the day after the wedding David Stanley, now Duke of Paddington, reached London, going imme- diately to the Bank of England with the hope of i-c- ceiving letters from Ethel. His steamer liad been longer making the run than he had planned for, so Ethel could easily reply to his hurried note, perhaps ,idd others on her own account. He was greatly dis- appointed at not hearing from her. He was also lonely and homesick, for, though he had come to en- ter upon the inheritance of his fathers, he was in a land of strangers. He had telegraphed his lawyers, Court & Deeds, from Liverpool, making an appointment for the fol- lowing day. So he went back to the hotel, wonder- ing how he would get through a long, dull, lonely evening. After dinner in the coffee room he picked up the Times with the hope of finding some Ameri- can news. By the merest chance he turned to the marriage column, and he smiled pleasantly when he thought that in a few months his name would be in that list. He therefore read on, going over one and ;crer Q — a i re- ; tlic now ,t the lantic ndon, je ap- ', now mmo- of ro- , been for, BO brhaps ;ly dis- also to en- in a >eeds, le f ol- mder- lonely )icked .nieri- to the len he lid be leand ETHEL BROMPTON'S WEDDING. 357 then another, but as he came to the end he saw some- tliing wliich struck him as with a deathly chill ; the paper trembled in his hand ; his eyes strained pain- fully in their sockets, and for the moment were cov- rred with a hot mist. But, instantly assuring himself that there must be a mistake, he compelled Lis eyes to steady themselves upon the page, when he read : *'YoN DER Pi.oNK — Brompton. Ou Wednesday, May 1, at the CLurch of St. Ezekiel's, New York, U. S., by the Rev. Horatio M. Bland, D.D., Ethel, daugliter of Mr. Mark Brompton, to Ilendrik Yon der JPlonk, son of the late llondrik Yon dcr Plonk." Poor David Stanley ! And he had called her his queen ! He had filled his heart all the way across the sea with pictures of her as Duchess of Padding- ton ! This, then, was the end of his dreams. " You remember that David Stanley wlio nsed to come here quite frequently ? " said IMark Brompton to Mrs. Brompton and Janet one evening about a week after the wedding, as they were sitting in the library. " Yes," was the eager reply of both women — one reply prompted by a vivid remembrance of a letter which had been stolen and burned, the other by an equally vivid remembrance of Ethel's tears and de«^>pair, but final surrender to pride and ambition. " Well, you know he was in South America acting as the agent of a New York house. I have a corre- spondent in the city where Stanley was, from whom I lieard this morninc:. He writes me that Stanley, in the most unexpected way, has come into possession ii I TO E?/" '< iii m ' m^ i. ..1 ' m 358 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. i ki ;■ in II If *■*,,, of a large estate in England, and the fellow is ac- tually a duke." " A duke ! " and again the two women answered in the same breath, looking at Mr. Brompton with an interest for which he could not account. " Yes, a dnkc ! The Duke of Paddington is now his title, one of the most honorable in the English ])eerage." With this Mr. Brompton resumed the reading of his paper. Neither Mrs. Brompton nor Janet made any reply, but they were both doing some unj)leasant thinking. " She might have been a duchess ! " thouglit Janet, going back rapidly to some of the times when Ethel M\as ahnost on the point of breaking with Yon der Plonk and taking her chances with David Stanley. " She mif]:ht have been a duchess ! " thousjht Mrs. Brompton, as she recalled tlie letter which she had kept back from Ethel, for in that letter David Stan- ley had undoubtedly written of his good fortune. In a few minutes Mrs. Brompton and Janet retired, each going to her own room to think over what Mr. Brompton had told them. No sooner was Janet alone than she burst into tears, and with the cry, *' My poor Ethel ! " shff threw herself upon the bed, sobbing as if her heart would break. No sooner was Mrs. Brompton alone than she locked her fingers together and walked to and fro in her room like one demented. Her face became livid with passion. Her eyes fairly blazed in anger. She bit her lips until they were stained with b^ od. She cursed herself when she remembered that it was her ETHEL BROMPTON'S WEDDING. 359 ac- into lirew doing that Ethel was not a duchess. The bitterness, the shame, tlie agony of that hour ! It was simply maddening, and she had only herself to blame. With lightning-like rapidity but awful vividness the events connected with David Stanley and his love for Ethel passed before her. She saw with what re- morselessness she had kept them apart. How im- placable she had been ! And now he w^as Duke of Paddington, and Ethel might have been a duchess 1 It was infuriating. It was more than flesh and blood could stand. So she stormed and raved, clenching her hands until her nails made deep, livid marks in the burning palm. And is this the stately Mrs. Brompton, the woman of superb self-control, whose ease and dignity we have so often admired ? To gratify her ambition Mrs. Brompton had stooped to dishonor. That dishonor had gained a Yon der Plonk, but lost a dukedom. There was no sleep for Mrs. Brompton that night. " She might have been a duchess ! " in letters of lire was written on her soul. m she '0 in llivid She She her ' ft -' m 360 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. \i ^h i ^ I j I'i T« CHAPTER XXXYIII. Dr. Bland of St. Ezekiel's. IT was not to be expected tliat tlic Eev. Dr. Bland would permit Madge and John Disney "to ab- sent themselves from their accustomed place in the sanctuary " (using here his own words) without at least ascertaining the reason. The Disney pew was a prominent one, and, though Dr. Disney was not often present, Mrs. Disney and Madge — John also when he was not away from home — had been quite regular in their attendance. But for some time past Mrs. Disney was the only member of the family upon whom any dependence could be placed. That pew, therefore, now compar- atively empty, gave the worthy clergyman much concern. There are those who might be disposed to think that if the Disney pew had been in a less conspicu- ous place, or the Disney family been of less prom- inence, the pastor would not have been so quick to notice their absence nor so prompt in his efforts to secure their return. But any such suggestion is un- just to Dr Bland. A more conscientious man could not be found anywhere, nor one who labored more earnestly for the people over whom he was placed. That he W8-^ exclusive, perhaps narrow, all who knew 'hilt,. wouM concede. Some went so far as to call him bigoted. This, though, was hardly just. His father DR. BLAND OF ST. EZEKIEL'S. 361 was a man of high scholarly attainments, a professor in a leading university. Nor was he altogether de- pendent upon his income from the university, having a fair property in his own right. Thus he was able to gratify many of his tastes, which were mainly m the line of the fine arts. lie bought some nice pictures at times. lie had a few rare bits of statuary. He was fond of books with dainty bind- ings. Ilis home had choice bric-a-brac which he had picked up when abroad. Then he had married into one of the oldest and most aristocratic families in Boston, his wife having no difficulty in tracing her pedigree to "William Bradford, one of tlio Maf/- flower passengers, afterw^ard the first governor of the Plymouth Colony. BroughL uj) in such a home as this, the only child too, what could Horatio know of the rough, brawling world ? Of that life in which men fight for mastery ; in which hunger and pride and ambition, like chisels of steel, cut their terrible marks upon human souls; ii which avarice and de- sire, as vultures, swoop dowi upon the helpless and the dying ; in which thousands trample upon each other in their mad strife fc )read — of such a life Dr. Bland knew nothing whatovjr. Of the world in whici common people live, the world of injustice, of tyranny, of fraud, of heartless, selfish cruelty, he did not even dream. It was not priestly sanctity w^hich allowed him to pass unheed- ing the poor fellow who lay crushed and bleeding on the Jericho road, but rather :lie rapt, ecstatic charac- ter of his faith. Utterly unworldly, gentle-hearted, pure-minded, his was more the life of a mediaeval 5 i>\ W i M i{Lk^l>;> mk } 1 I I^K J; ' , j t 'ifB^ I \ nS^vt' J 1 ■flBE K '! tSt i\ M f:s Hii r; 362 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. saint than of a man of this generation. He was far moi'c familiar with the life of Corinth or iVntioch or Ephcsus than with the city in which he lived. To his thought the Chnrch was a magnificent ideal of spiritual desire ; a sublime memorial of religious aspiration ; a venerable institution hallowed by the centuries out of which it had come. Never once had it occurred to him that the Church, like leaven enter- ing the meal, like salt arresting the process of decay, like light in the midst of darkness, was to take a part in the common affairs of life. With him the Church was a mighty edifice of steeples and towers reaching into the measureless sky, with no relations to the earth except as a mere resting place, from Avhich it would ascend heavenward. That the Church was to be a refp.ge for the tempted and tried ; that it was to be tho resolute, abiding friend of the downtrodden and the poor; that it was to stand as a mighty defense between the oppressor and the oppressed ; that in everything per- tainino; to tlie real Drog-ress of the world it was to be the stalwart loader, were all things of which this good man had not the faintest idea. But how could he ? He liad never met with poverty, nor with crime, nor with coarse, brutal sin in any form. " You will excuse me, Miss Disney, but, not having seen you at church for a Sunday or tw^o, may I ask if you have been ill or out of town? " The tone w^as grave, the look kindly, the inquiry sincere. Madge was just a little troubled as to what to say. ii DR. BLAND OF ST. EZEKIEL'S. 363 good avmoj 1 ask if [quiry say. She liad not been ill. She had not been out of town. These time-honored and most convenient excuses could not, tlierefore, be brought forward. To con- fess that she liad been jjjoini!: to the JVEission with John, and also that she had become deeply interested in the Mission, might possibly annoy Dr. Bland. This she did not Avish to do, as for years he had been an intimate friend in the Disney home. Mrs. Disney, however, came to her relief. " The fact is. Dr. Bland, a college friend of John's, and a very dear friend of the family a^ well" — here just the daintiest bit of color crept up in Ma(lg(i\s f;ice, and Dr. Bland, though lie was devoted to the Ante- Nicene fathers, thoi. .;!;t Madge was looking most sweet and winsome — " has gone over to the East Side to engage in some kind of mission work, and Madge and John have been doing duty as nssistants. I have told them that one of these days they must explain nuitters to you, as you would be Siire to notice their absence from church." Mrs. Disney smiled in a good-humored way at Madge. She did not altogether ap])rove of tins mission business, but she approved very thoroughly of Hugh Dunbar. Dunbar dropped in quite fre- quently now, not always to consult with John, nor even to have a friendly chat with Mrs. Disney. It is hardly worth while to mention that Madge w\as nearly always at home when he called. Mrs. Disney's frank statement of tlie case opened the way for a general discussion of the Mission. This, of course, led to the mention of Hugh Dunbar, when Dr. Bland said : Wii fi., 364 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ( ! 11 ! if ■ 1 1 ^' i ■ '■ "i § '1 1 '« i ■ ^ m ■* ; " I have heard something of this young man. lie must be a noble fellow." Again that dainty color stole in Madge's face, and again Dr. Bland forgot for a moment or two the Ante-Nicene fathers. The result of the conversation was that Dr. Bland remained to dinner, after dinner going over to the Mission with Madge and John. When the dear man got over to the East Side, into the swarming, liiving streets, where he saw such strangeness and variety of life, he was almost frightened. Ilis fears, however, were not for him- self, but for Madge ; but when he saw how fearlessly she walked at the side of John his anxiety gradually disappeared. After this he began to enjoy the nov- elty and excitement. Here was a life unlike anything he had ever seen. Here were all these thousands of people of w^iose existence he had never been really conscious — men, women, young, old, street Arabs, peddlers, fakirs, factory girls, newsboys, sweatshop workers, mechanics, laborers, stevedores, draymen, marketmen — united to him in bonds of human relationship, but as much strangers as if they had come from a distant planet. From one he heard Italian, from another Spanish. One jabbered in Polish, another in Russian. Here he listened to the gutturals of the German, there to the brogue of the Irish. One spoke Parisian, an- other cockney English. What an infinite distance lay between the parish occupied by the Mission ai)d tliat of St. EzekiePs ! For the third time that day he forgot about the DR. BLAND OF ST. EZEKIEL'S. 365 inited much >lanet. lanish. Here ;re to an- )arish liePs ! the Aute-Nicene fathers, but for the first time that day, or even in his whole life, he began to see the real mean- ing of the parable of the Good Samaritan. The Mission House was a revelation to him. Mr. Dunbar took him all through it. Ho saw sewing rooms, where girls — little girls some of them — were taught dressmaking, shirtmaking, garment-making of all kinds. He saw boys' tradesrooms, where instruc- tion was given to boys who otherwise would never bo anything but common laborers. He saw gymnasiums, where young men were taking courses in physical training, the value of which would make life stronger and better for all the years to come. He saw read- ing rooms, where scores of men were reading books — some on mechanics, some on chemistry, some lighter, such as history or fiction. He saw play rooms, where groups of liglit-hearted young people forgot about the drudgery of the shop and were enjoying them- selves wdiolesomely. He saw many things in that tour of inspection. Several times he coughed sus- piciously, as if there v/as a sob in his throat. More than once he wiped his eyes, as if the dust troubled him. But there wasn't any dust. Somehow there came upon him the feeling that he had thought too much about the Ante-Nicene fathers and not enough about the fathers of this generation. St. Ezekiel's seemed like a church in the sky, but this Mission was a church on the ground. His had been a Gospel of spires and minarets, where- as it should have been a Gospel of pavements and cobblestones. A remark of Hugh Dunbar wonder- fully impressed him : 1 , it 1 :) i M 366 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. '4 '1 I . "If wc will but allow Christianity to bo thor- oui^hly Christianized tho wliolo problem will bo Bulvcd." It was later than usual that nii»;ht when Dr. Bland returned to his home, ^'^or did lie retire even then, lato as it was. For hours he sat in his room ponder- ing over the things he had seen and heard. Tho crowds at length died away, the voiees ceased to beat upon his car, but somehow in his sleep there camo to him tho vis-ion of the Macedonian standing help- less and entreating, and ho could hear liis pitiful cry, " Como over and help us ! " On tho next Sunday Dr. Bland made no reforenco to the Antc-Nicono fathers, nor even to tho heresies of tho church at Colosso. lie preached on the " Good Samaritan," saying some plain things about tho priest and tho Levite. The sermon gave rise to considerable discussion. Mark Brompton didn't like it at all. Some of the Yon dor Plonks were indignant. Mr. Keen was angry. Madge and John, who wore at St. Ezekiel's that morning, could not but associate the sermon wnth Dr. Bland's visit to the Mission. Mr. Dunbar, when he heard of it, smiled in that grateful but sug- gestive way of his and said, " The leaven is at work." EDWARD VAUGHliN'S SAD DISCOVERY. 367 I tlior- ^ill bo Bland I then, )onder- Tlie to beat 3 canio r belp- ■ul cry, ferenco lercsics on the 8 about ussion. of the 311 was sekiel's ;ernion unbar, it sug- is at CIIAPTEU XXXIX. Edward Vaughen's Sad Discovery. IN tliat mysterious, elusive, but singularly elTective way whieh women have. Miss Keen gave Ed- ward Vaughen to understand that for the future their ways must be more auart than they had been. At first Edward was completely mystified, lie would look at her when they met (whieh, of course, they did quite often) in a pained, perplexed way, wondering what it all meant. Sometimes, when ho would take her by surprise, he found a sad, almost hopeless, expression on her face ; but the moment she saw that he had noticed her tlie expression would change, so that she would appear as when he first be- came acquainted with her. He was fully aware of the fact that for the present lie had nothing to offer her save the strong, honest love of his eager heart. But he was hopeful. He was ambitious. Other men had made their way; he would make his. He was resolved, though, that his way would be made honestly. But the world of business was a very different thing from what he had imagined in Lis college days. Most of his dreams and theories had been rudely dispelled. Long since he had parted with his hobby of the " unearned increment," though Madge, in her talks with John, still used that name for him. He no longer spoke of " the poor sheep huddlins: on the bleak mountain side." He saw the I I ■11 I ! ^^i^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 4E< ^ 1.0 I.I 11.25 128 •^ Bii 12.2 ^U4 Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716)872-4503 ■^^ 368 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ;' ,.i conduct of Gallio in a new light. His pet notions concerning the redistribution of property he had abandoned as fooh'sh to the last degree. The mean- ingless socialism which he once had held he now saw as a foolish dream. Gradually it had dawned upon him that capital and labor were merely relative terms. *' John," he said one night, as the two cronies were talking after the manner of their college days, " what arrant nonsense we used to get off in the old times ! " "Speak for yourself, Edward Vaughen," John answered, in his dry way. " Say * we ' at your peril. You evidently fail to remember the valuable advice which I wasted on you when you would fill my room with the bleating of your lost sheep, or make the air blue with angry denunciations of that Gallio who had the good sense to mind his own business and wanted other people to mind theirs. Was there any- thing ever so soul-distressing as that * sad undertone of the toiling millions ' which you used to wail out with such fervor ? Edward Yaughen, son of Thomas, if you say *we' again, my wrath will descend upon you with the force and precision of a pile driver. When I think of the stuff you used to throw at my defenseless head — the * unearned increment,' the * evasion of responsibility,' and all the rest of it — it makes me marvel at my patience. What a Job I would have made I The only drawback is Mrs. Job. I never could have got along with that woman. But this * we ' of yours is the coolest thing I ever heard of. Icebergs are burning volcanoes in comparison with it." EDWARD VAUCHEN'S SAD DISCOVERY. 369 ison There were few weeks in which the young men did not spend at least one evening with each other, one time Edward going np to the Disney home, an- other time John coming down to the Gubhins man- sion. "Slight rift in the hitc," John remarked one even- ing as Miss Toliok pathetically warbled, " When other hps and other hearts." " Her * tales of love ' have flounces, or nifflcs, by the way she lengthens them out," he said, as the next line, in (quivering installments, came up stairs. "Difeuey, the soul of music is not in you ; it never was. Miss Pollok shall no longer waste her dulcet strains on you." With this Edward closed the door. At the same moment the artist closed his. Likewise Mr. Wright. Likewise Mr. Singleton. Miss Dawdledom, a new l)oarder, did not close hers. Miss Dawdledom was almost totally deaf. The time came when Edward opened his lieart to John about Miss Keen, for he was in sore need of just such help as John could give. lie told him of iiis hopes, of the way in which they used to look for cacli other, of the tender, sympathetic relations they had sustained for now almost a year. lie alsf> spoke of that evening in Miss Keen's home, then adding in a brave but pathetic way : " Old fellow, I am hard hit, and I won't get over it for a good while." " You mustn't be too hard on Miss Keen," John said, sympathetically, for he was awfully H(jrry at the turn which allairs liad taken, lUit ho had r * • 370 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. n expected this to come sooner or later. " Mr. Keen is one of the moat ambitious men in the city, lie lias been anxious for u long time to get himself well placed with leading business men. His plan all along was to marry his daughter to Percy iJromp- ton." " Percy Brompton ! my cousin ! " Edward ex- claimed, incredulously. " Yes, Percy Brompton, your cousin. Your worthy uncle, however, saw through Mr. Keen's nice little plan. This may explain why Percy was sent South on some railroad matters at the time when Miss Keen's regard for you seemed to decline, and when Percy was quite a frequent guest at the Keen domicile. It was Madge who called my attention to this. Since she spoke of it I have been keeping track of things." Now that the matter was brought to Edward's mind, he recalled several circumstances which seemed to favor John's putting of the case. But with in- stinctive chivalry he refused to think that Miss Keen was a party to these proceedings. "An unwilling party, I grant, but a party, never- theless," John insisted. Now that the matter was up, the truest kindness to Edward would be to open his eyes to the facts just as they were. It was anything but a pleasant task. John was just as chivalrous as Ed- w^ard Vaughen. With such a mother and sister as he had he could not but have a high ideal of woman- hood. To reflect on Miss Keen, so as to lower her in the thought of Edward, seemed a cruel thing to do. So he began ; EDWARD VAUCHEN'S SAD DISCOVERY. 371 ex- "We must not be too severe with Miss Keen. She has not only her father's blood in her veins, but all her life has been under his inlluence. If you were Mark Bronijiton's bon instead of his nephew she would gladly share your lot. But she has the same ambitions as her father. Then she has been aecustomed all her lite to put everything on a money basis. Percy is rich ; you are poor. She is sorry that you are poor. 8 he doubtless wishes that you were rich and Percy poor. That, however, will not affect her. We have known the Keens a long time, and these things which 8ur])risc you are no sm'prise to me." What a night that was for Edward Vaughen ! The poor fellow sat in that old rocker by the window watching the clouds bank and mass themselves in the sky. The moon was hidden behind these sky mountains — Alpine ranges of cloud and darkness. Then the wind came np strong and fierce from the sea, blowing a very tempest which swept through the streets in mad passion. After weary hours of dark- ness and storm the pale stars came out from their hiding-place. The clouds gradually disappeared. Once again the moon broke upon the mystery of tlie night. And still Edward sat at the window, looking out upon tlie parable of passion and despair in the earth and in the sky. Then the morning came — gray, cheerless, barren ; after this the sun ; but the sun did not shine upon the same world as yesterday. The poetry was gone. The romance was gone. The very joy of life was gone. But, worst of all, his noble ideal of woman- liii 1 I Ji ) 1 I ' ■■■: t ; > ;> m ti 372 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. hood was gone. The woman to whose feet he would have gladly brought all the hopes and desires of his heart had only trifled with him. IS he was heai-tlesa and mercenary. To gratify a mere sentiment she had taken advantage of his iinfamiliarity with the world, but when it came to a test she put him utterly aside, lie watched the stars fade away, the gray light open out into morning radiance, the new day come u])on the city. lie was very quiet as he sat at the breakfast table that morning. Ilis face was pale, and there was a etricken look upon him which no one had ever seen there before. Fuber noticed it, but said nothing. Mr. Singleton also noticed it, but he said nothing either. The people who say nothing are the wisest and truest in their sympatliies. Any brook can babble. Mrs. Gubbins, being a very practical woman, ex- pressed her sympathy through a cup of most excellent coffee and the nicest chop she could find. She did not speak of the matter at the table, but afterward said to Jemima : " That poor, dear Mr. Yjiughen was in some kind of trouble, and looked real sick." In the numerous expeditions which Ethel Bromp- ton, now Mrs. Von der Plonk, was called upon to nnake in the weeks preceding her marriage, the dry- goods house of Linsey & Woolsey received due patronage. This led to a number of meetings with Oberta Sauvicr. Janet, who often accompanied her Bister on these very interesting pilgrimages, would EDWARD VAUCHEN'S SAD DISCOVERY. 373 7- ne th er Id eomctimcs remain in '* cloaks and wraps " while Ethel went to another j)art of the store to study carpets or furniture under the loadersliip of ]\Irs. Bronipton. Janet found Miss Sauvier very much of a lady. After a time they chatted quite pleasantly, and when Janet spoke of her sister's approaching marria«^o Ohcrta, of course, was mucli interested, for have wc not high authority for the statement that " the whole world loves a lover? " And does not tlie right kind of a lover usually mean a wedding!; Oberta having exquisite taste, as well as considerahle experience, was able to sui^ij^est certain arranjjenients and com- binations which met the ajjproval of the Brompton contingent. Indeed, Mrs. Brompton was once heard to remark that "that young person in Linsey &; Woolsey's was a most capable saleswoman." After the wedding there was quite a little interval when Janet did not go to the store ; but one day she went alone. She had no special need to visit Oberta's department; nevertheless she went np stairs to " cloaks and wraps." "When she saw ( )berta, in the most cordial, kindly way she held out her hand, greeting her as she would any of her friends. They talked for a few moments, Oberta asking about Mrs. Von der Plonk, and saying with what interest she had read of the wedding. Just then a young man came over from the elevator, but seeing Oljerta engaged with a lady, whoM he took to be a customer, he waited quietly, standing somewhat in the back- ground. As soon as Oberta saw him she impul- sively said, " Why, here is my brother ! " upon which Fred at once came forward. But in a moment the ' 1 374 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. M: situation became embarrassing. Obcrta could not in- troduce Fred to Miss Brompton. Without Miss Brompton's permission such a thing could not be done, and if done would be rudeness unpardonable. But when a keen-witted, good -hearted woman under- takes to lead anj'one out of a diliiculty she soon finds a way. '* Miss Sauvicr, will you kindly introduce me to your brother ? " said Janet, reaching out her hand at the same moment to Fred, for she never did anything by halves. "Mr. John Disney, a dear friend of ours, has spoken so often of Mr. Sauvier that we all feci acquainted with him." Then she remained for a couple of minutes, chat- ting in the most cordial way. " Miss Brompton," Fred repeated, after she had gone ; " any relation, I wonder, of Mr. Mark Bromp- ton, one of our directors?" " Ilis daughter," answered Obcrta, not, either, without pride, for it was a source of much gratifica- tion to her that people of the social rank of the Disneys and the Bromptons gave her a place in their regard. How the leaven of Hugh Dunbar's ministry was spreading ! And with what amazing energy it was doing its work ! The next day in the office Fred spoke to John Disney of having met Miss Brompton, upon which John declared that " Janet Brompton was one of the nicest girls in New York." To this remark Fred Sauvier took no exception, either then or ever after- ward. MR. BLINKS AND MR. WINKS 375 CHAPTErw XL. Mr. Blinks and Mr. Winks. n ^ERE we have a question in casuistry. Mr. rH Blinks and Mr. Winks at one time were most \J intimate friends. 80 cordial were their rela- tions that when they moved from the city to the sub- urbs they liad their houses built on adjoining lots, without any fence between. But for some reason Mr. Blinks changed in his feelings toward Mr. Winks. So complete was this change that he began to consider Mr. Winks as the personification of all villainies. Feeding his .anger with highly inflam- mable material, he soon had a heart which almost breathed out threatenings and slaughter. He deter- mined, therefore, to dispose of Mr. Winks. After thinking the matter over Mr. Blinks concluded that a bomb of the right size, properly located under the house of Mr. Winks, would answer his purpose. In short, to put it in the plainest terms, Mr. Blinks re- solved that Mr. Winks should be blown up "sky high." Accordingly he procured a bomb, connected it with an electric battery which he had concealed in his own room, watched his opportunity to carry the bomb to his neighbor's house, after which, Welling- ton-like, he wished for night. Mr. Winks, for some reason, came home earlier than usual that evening. Having never outgrown 376 DWELLER3 IN GOTHAM. ii ft iS Ills passionsito lovo fur a lawn mower, lie wont down to lii« cellar, that lie nii<^lit gaze with rapture uj)on a new <»ne which he Wfw aMxi<»us to use. While in the cellar he naw the hnnih. At first he did not know juHt what to do with it, for honih.s are (juick-tempered, and fly ofT on the least j)rovocatioii. fcseeiiig a wire attached to this l)oiid>, he traced that wire to the ixt house. ]j 1. .t he at onco decided tliat the honib belonged to tlie next house, and that it had ntrayed out from iU proper home. With all the tenderness of a slupherd with a poor, sick lamb he carried the bomb back to its fold. The strained relatiotis between these once good friends prevented Mr. Winks from informing Mr. Ulinks of what he had done;. ]]eside3 being honest, Mr. Winks was modest, for he even waited for the early night before carrying the bomb home. And bo no one saw the kindly thing which he had done. Sometime in the night he was aroused from his peaceful slumbers by a terrific explosion, upon which he rushed to the window, just in timo to sec Mr. Blinks taking a skyward excursion, moving upward with such rapidity that he must soon land some- where in the moon. Xow for the question : Of what crime was Mr. Blinks guilty? or of what crime was Mr. Winks guilty ? This affecting anecdote is explanatory of the rela- tions between Keen «fe Sharp and Mark Brompton. Keen & Sharp procured the bomb, set the battery, and arranged for the time when the button would be pressed. Mr. Brompton cautiously removed the bomb from his premises, carried it over to the prein- MR. BLINKS AND MR. WINKS. 377 1SC8 of Keen & Sharp, and vheii Mr. Keen gave tlio sij^ii for Mr. Sliarp to pUHli thu button Mr. Bronip- tun was Btandlngat tlio window to bcu them go %ing in the uir. That was a terrible day in "Wall Street It opened like the battle of Waterloo. Thure was firing all along the line. For hours it raged, fortunes going down, like the Old (iuard, into the terrible ravine. Men who were rich that morning when they left their homes went biiek bankrupt. Friends of Keen &> Sharp eharged upon the friends of Mark Bromp- ton, as the French upon the Ch&teau do llougo- mont ]3ut Mark Brompton knew how the battlo would end. In his strong box he held stock for which Keen &, Sharp would gladly have paid a hun- dred times its vahie. At the right moment ho gave the sign, and Keen & Sharp were hopelessly ruined. It meant utter bankruptcy for Mr. Keen. He was well aware that once his treachery became known on the *' Street " he might just as well leave New York forever. "Wall Street admires pluck, grit, gigantic schemes, combinations tliat reach all around the world. When a man is beaten down by misfortune, if he lias made a fair light. Wall Street will help him to his feet again. But when a man has acted dishonorably, when the broker goes back on his client. Wall Street rises in its wrath, and such a one is cast out of the financial synagogue. This was what Keen & Sharp had done, and when that terrible day closed they knew that the end liad come. It is impossible not to pity Mr. Keen. He Lad I 't i 1 '; n 378 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. played for liigli stiikca, and lie Imd lost. The ambi- tions of liiH wliolo life centered upon the results of this day. I*ut he was beaten. And the worst of it was that lie deserved to be beaten. He had phiyed liis game dlBJionestly. Ho has liHtened to the voice, *' AH these will I give thee," but the voice lied. That night he gathered up such things as he could, leaving the city on the midnight train. The next day, when the newspapers were announcing his fail- ure, lie was on his way to Rio Janeiro, where he re- mained for tlio rest of his life. Mrs. Keen was not left quite destitute, as some years before JSIr. Keen made over to her a little property intended just for "pin money," but now it was all she had. She and Eliea left Kcw York as soon as they could conveniently get away. They did not go to Rio Janeiro, but to some little place in Maine, where Mrs. Keen had distant relations. One thing here sliould be said of Rhea. Edward Vauglien wrote her in the most tender and sympa- thetic way, which, had she been disposed to take advan- tage of, miglit easily have led to a return of the con- ditions once existing between them. But she merely acknowledged his letter, taking care in her reply to obviate the necessity of his writing again. He then called, but a formal ** not at home " was the only result. Not content with this, he called again, but Mrs. Keen and Rhea had left town. On the evening of that eventful day when Keen & Sharp met with such an overwhelming defeat Dr. Disney looked anxious and troubled. As it was known in the family that he had two or three very MR. BLINKS AND MR. WINKS. 379 8eri(jn8 ciisch on liis list wliicli were unusnully severe, liiw anxiety ^iivo no speeiul concern. But he was, if anything, even more ^nicioiiH hikI conHidcrate than for weeks past. In tlie course of tlie evening Mr. J)iinhar eanie in and spent u little while with Mrs. Disney and Mad;;e, afterward ^oing to the doctor's sitting ro(nn, saying he wished to see liitn alone. After Mr. Dunbar had hdt the ])arlor ^Mrs. Disney looked inquiringly at Madge, upon vvhicli Madgo looked answeringly at ^Trs. Disney. Then Mrs. Disney got up from lier chair, Aladgc at the same instant getting up from liers. In another moment Mrs. Disney had jVFadge in her arms, and they were kissing and smiling and shedding tears all at once. Then Dr. Disney came in with Hugh Dunhar, and taking Madge by the liand, gave her to Dunhar, saying, " She is worthy of all the love that you can give her." As he spoke he tenderly kissed her on the lips and on the forehead, and stroked her head in that gentle, loving way of his. He shook hands cordially with Dunbar, and in Mrs. Disney's behalf as well as his own gave him hearty welcome to their household. But he was very grave, and his voice seemed full of tears. He soon went back to his sitting room, where he remained alone. Later on John came in, and he had quite a long talk with his fatlier, John going over some plans which he had partly formed about starting in busi- ness for himself. "That clerking of mine in the Tubal-Cain Iron Works has given me both information and experi- » iif^Ei I'! 380 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. ence," John said. " But now that I have decided upon jjjoing into regular business the sooner I get at it the better." To this Dr. Disney assented, at the same time asking Jolm if any definite plan had occurred to him. John then wfjiit on to speak of Mr. Bromp- ton, who, he said, hud a large interest in the Tubal- Cain Works, but who might be disposed to make some arrangement in the matter. Indeed, he had spoken of it himself, "not so much on my ac- count," John said, with a frank smile, " as to make an opening fur Percy. Mr. Brompton has made the discovery that Percy is nnicli better off when he has something to do. That was why he sent him South on that railroad business. You have seen the even- ing papers, of course ? Terrible affair that of Keen & Sharp ! But they should have known better than run up against Mark Brompton. Dad, you are not looking well. As you sometimes say, ' been rather overdoing of late.' "Why not let up on things ? " " I am going to write to Mr. Brompton perhaps to-night," the doctor said. " I have a matter upon which I desire h judgment. If you wish I will re- fer to what you i ve said." " O, thank you 1 A word from you will have great weight with Mr. Brompton," John answered. So they talked on for some little time longer. Then with, " Good night, my boy ! " " Good night, dad 1 " they parted. Mrs. Disney had retired when the doctor went to her room, but was not asleep, so he went over to the bed, kissed her, bade her good night, saying that he MR. BLINKS AND MR. WINKS. 381 Jht, had some letters to write wliich would detain him in his office for perhaps an hour. Then he turned down the light, arranged the shade so that even the faint glimmer would not disturb Mrs. Disney, looked about the room to see that everything was all right, after wliich he went out, closing the door gently behind him. On going to his office, he went to the little safe, taking from it a box in which he kept his private papers. He went over these papers carefully, select- ing first one, and then another, until he had per- haps a dozen, all told, which he put in a large, heavy envelope, securing it with rubber bands. The others he burned, careful even to stir up the light crisp re- mains, so that no one looking at the fireplace would suspect anything of what had been done. Then he wrote a long letter to Mark Brompton, inclosing with it the large, heavy envelope, the con- tents of wliich he had so carefully arranged. This he weighed on his " postal scale," affixing the neces- sary stamps. Everyone now being in bed, he took the letter himself to the mail box, which was on the corner of the next street, going out and coiriing in so quietly as not to disturb Mrs. Disney, who was a very light sleeper. When he came back he did not go up stairs to his room, but returned to the office, sitting down in a big chair, where he watched the fire slowly dying in the grate. And this was how they found him in the morning. But his eyes were closed never to be opened again, and his face was still in deatli ! That nii^ht when Fred Sauvier came home from 382 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. the office he told his mother and Oberta of the aw- fully sudden death of Dr. Disney. Oberta, glancing ewiftb^ at her mother, saw that her face was like marble. But Mrs. Saiivier said nothing. She soon, however, went to her room, where she remained for the rest of the evening. In response to the inquiries of Oberta she complained of not feeling well, but hoped to be better in the morning. In the morning she was at the breakfast table in her usual place, but her face was almost as gray and deathly as that of the d^d man who had been found in his office chair. Mark Brompton was at home when the morning mail brought him Dr. Disney's letter, but, seeing that it was marked " Personal," he did not open it at the breakfast table with his other letters. On going into the library, from the weight and size of the envelope he thought it must be a lengthy communication. He therefore sat down, but before he had read the letter half through he hastily rose from his chair, and, call- ing the footman, ordered the carriage to be brought immediately. While waiting for the carriage he finished reading the letter, which he then folded up, carefully replacing it in the envelope with the other papers, locking them all up in his private desk. A stern, pitiless face Mark Brompton had as he stepped into his carriage. As a man of iron he had gone through the battle of the previous day. With- out a quiver or an emotion of pity he had driven Keen & Sharp to a ruin from which escape was hope- less. Nor had even this contented him, but with a spirit that was remorseless he had brought ruin upon many who had taken sides with them. The taste of MR. BLINKS AND MR. WINKS. 383 blood was upon his lips. His face was therefore impla- cable as his carriage stopped at theDisney home. But on coming to the door, tu his amazement, he saw the fatal flowers against a background of dark ribbon, tied to the bell handle, lie knew then tliat death was in the liouse — most likely Mrs. Disney, he thought. When John gave him the terrible news his anger died within him, for who can be angry in the awful presence of death ? He remained for some time, comforting as best he could the sorely afflicted home, and before he left, when they took him to the room where the poor dead body lay, he coillff' not restrain the tears, and broke down helplessly. On going back to his home, which he did as soon as he left the Disneys, he took out Dr. Disney's let- ter once more, this time, however, not to read it, but to destroy it, as well as all the other papers with which it came. Twenty-five years before Dr. Disney had tempted Fred Sauvier to dishonor and crime, for it was at his suggestion that the forgery was committed. But now the same sins are upon his own soul, for he has forged, using Mark Brompton's name on notes given by him to Keen & Sharp. Discovery is now inevitable. The same horror and disgrace which fell upon Fred Sauvier will now fall upon him. "What- soever a man soweth, that sliall he also reap." But Mark Brompton never told. So the world never knew of the awful secret which was buried in Dr. Disney's grave. Hunger has slain its hundreds, pride its thousands, ambition its tens of thousands. ,^ 384 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. EPILOGUE. n < OWEVER strenuously Edward Vaughen might rj object to a preface, there is surely no reason ^ for him to question the propriety of an epi- logue, for one cannot leave a story as he would a play — with the stage full of people to go scampering off as they please when the curtain drops. Neither can we let go in this abrupt way the friends with whom we have enjoyed such a lengthy companion- ship. For instance, there is Jamie Smithers. We surely ought to know how it fared with him. Well, he recovered from that sickness of his, for all the boy required was rest and nourishment. These Sis- ter Nora took care of. He still carves, but he has gone far beyond salad sets, or " them Swiss frames." His work is now eagerly sought for. Indeed, there are decorating establishments, well known to wealthy Gothamites, who are glad to have Jamie do special carvings for them. His face is not so white nor so thin as it once was ; he has grown quite a little, still he is not too big for his mother to take him on her knee ; so she croons to him and sings to him as she ever did, and most likely ever will until he goes back to his home among the angels. As for Silas Smithers, his daj^s of trouble ended just as soon as he found steady work. This Sister Nora also took care of. Nor was it a very difficult matter, once he got a fair start ; hence through Sister % EPILOGUE. 3M Nora's influence his way opened from one place to another, so that his business steadily increased ; he has now a little»shop of his own and is doing nicely; lie enjoys liis armchair just as well as he ever did — also the old stubby pipe. Last Christmas "Mollie" M'as fairly extravagant, buying him a handsome brier with a genuine amber tip, but he only uses it on state occasions. Ethel Von der Plonk could not but hear in due time of David Stanley's good fortune ; but whatever regret she may have felt she was sufficiently wise to keep her own counsel. Once Janet alluded to it, then rather thoughtlessly, when she said : " Ethel, you came very near being a duchess." " Yes," answered Ethel, " but perhaps it is just ag well as it is." The reply was quiet, but so conclusive that the matter was not spoken of again. Mrs. Brompton did not realize all the happiness she had expected from her alliance with the Von der Plonks. Ethel was accepted as inevitable, but that acceptance did not include Mrs. Brompton. Then she had the bitter memory of the stolen letter, and with it the still more bitter reflection that but for her Ethel might now be a duchess, hobnobbing with roy- alty, in which exalted honors Mrs. Brompton herself would have had a share. As David Stanley, now Duke of Paddington, was too much of a gentleman to write or make any inquiries, Mrs. Brompton is the only one who knows just how near Ethel came to wearing a coronet. The Keens never came back to New York. Mr. 25 386 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. Keen died within a short time after reaching Rio Janeiro. It was rumored, though, that Rhea was going to marry a wealthy lumber merchant quite a little older than herself ; how much truth was in the rumor no one could say. Edward Vaughen, after some years of experience in office work, started in business for himself. Mr. Brompton was his backer to a substantial amount, all of which Edward repaid. Mr. Singleton has an inter- est in the new firm, besides being confidant and man- ager. Edward is not making money "hand over fist," but he is making a good income, one which would have enabled him to give a pleasant home to Rhea Keen, had she only waited for him. His mother lives with him the greater part of the year, but she spends her summers at Eastwich, keeping tender watch of that grave in the village church- yard. Mr. Faber in due time was promoted to one of the editorial desks on the Tronibone. Kot long after this promotion Oberta left " cloaks and wraps," much to the regret of Linsey & "Woolsey, Hugh Dunbar performing the ceremony which changed her name to Mrs. Dixon Faber. Janet Brompton, when she heard of this wedding possibility, actually asked, in just about so many words, to be Oberta's bridesmaid ! Mrs. Brompton was indignant, but Janet appealed to her father, who decidedly said : " Certainly, if Miss Sauvier wishes it." A great change had come over Mark Brompton since the death of Dr. Disney. He withdrew almost EPILOGUE. 387 entirely from speculation, giving his time to other interests. He carried out a number of Janet's no- tions in Bromptonville, where his mills and factories are. Comfortable dwellings are now provided for the operatives; the scale of wages has been care- fully revised ; a fund has been set apart to secure pensions for such as are no longer able to work; tlie principle of cooperation has been recognized, not formally, for that Mr. Brompton did not consider expedient, but in spirit, which, after all, is of more importance. When he goes to Bromptonville a regu- lar ovation is given him. As for Janet, the people simply worship her. John Disney had no difficulty in arranging with Mr. Brompton for control of the Tubal-Cain Iron "Works. Keither had Mr. Brompton any special trouble with the other stockholders, for when he made a thorough investigation he found that the con- cern had actually been losing money for some time, though paying dividends all the while ! Mr. Bromp- ton placed no reliance whatever upon the time-hon- ored remark, " Figures won't lie." He knew that when properly juggled figures are the biggest kind of liars. So these dividends had been taken out of the plant, out of the quality of the goods, out of every- thing there was. The concern was therefore virtually bankrupt. In his curt, decisive way he gave the other stockholders to understand that they must " either buy or sell," else he would ask for the appointment of a receiver. Being children of this generation, therefore wise as regards "the mammon of unrighteousness," they 388 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. 1 1,' •I I,* ir sold out to Mr. Bromptoii. He in turn sold out to liis son Percy and John Disney. Our (listinguished friends, Mr. Falcon, Mr. Stiibl)fi, and Mr. Stafford, were very much aggrieved at the turn of affairs, par- ticularly as it turned them out upon a cold, Inhospi- table world. Fred Sauvier is, at this writing, general manager. The concern is now Disney & Brompton, Mr. Brompton insisting that John's nanjo should have tlie first place. John Disney is no dreamer, no Arabian Nights reformer, no Utopian philosopher; on the contrary, he is one of the coolest, shrewdest business men in the city. But he recognizes that his men have riglits which he is bound to respect. He thinks then; isa"(iolden Tlule" sotnewliere which oujrht to be applied in business. Ilcjuce he tries to do as "he wouhi be done by." Once in a while he "strikes u snag" among the workmen, but they talk it over, finally adjusting it to mutual satisfaction. The removal of both Edward Vaughen and Dixon Faber from the fvindly care of Mrs. Gubbins was a great grief to that good-liearted woman. Their commendable ])romptness in paying their board bills, not to speak of certain other good qualities, had se- cured for them a deep ])laee in the affection of Mrs. Gu])bins. She therefore viewed their departure in the light not only of a personal bereavement, but also a household calamity. " Prompter pay I never had fi-om anyone," she said to Mr. Wright, an expression whieli served two purposes, for it was both an apj)reciation and a EPILOGUE. m reminder. It conld not truthfully bo said of Mr. Wright that he was enthusiastically prompt. ^Neither was the humorist. The artist was. So was Miss Tollok. It was with a feeling of downright regret that Edward loft his "third lloor, hall i)ack." Still, ho could not forbear a qr'iit Hiiiile when, on coming down the stairs, he heard Mi.ss Pullok warble, in tones that were distinctly trenmlous, '' No one to love, none to caress," the piano responding with all the power of which it was capable. Mrs. Sauvier now makes her homo with Oberta, for the time came when Fred had his home in tho suburbs. A sweet, pleasant home it is, presided over by our good friend Janet Hrompton ! This was about the last drop in Mrs. Brompton's cup of bitterness. When she saw the growing intimacy of the yourig people she appealed to Ethel. Ethel looked sternly at her mother out of those sharp eyes of hers — at times Ethel strongly resembled her fatk —and said: *' I should think that you ought to know by this time the sin of interfering in matters like these." It was not a sweet remark, hardly even a proper one, but there were some things which Ethel could not forget. Mrs. Brompton turned very pale when Ethel made this remark. For the moment she was almost certain that Ethel knew of the stolen letter. Mrs. Sauvier has lost not only from her face but from her heart the old bitterness. Indeed, so com- pletely is the past forgiven that she visits frequently at the Disney home. Madge she loves dearly. But then every one loves Madge. 390 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. At first tlio congregation of St. Ezekicl's listened with amazement as Dr. Bland discoursed on the problems of city life, taking them up one after the other in his dignified but earnest way. He made no reference whatever to the Nestorian theories, and the extremes to which they led in the Eutychian heresies. He even omitted to give his reasons for taking exception to the chronology of Archbishop Usher in some matter concerning the Ilittites. As for the Ante-Nicene fatliers, they were ignored altogether. But after a time St. EzekiePs entered into the spirit of Dr. Bland, so much so that if the labor delegate to whom Hugh Dunbar gave serious aicention one Sunday afternoon should ever visit St. Ezekiel's he will receive as cordial a welcome as he can desire. The death of Dr. Disney did not involve any marked change in the public life of the fiimily. Mrs. Disney's income, supplemented by that of Madge, enabled them to live very much as they had done. It was a matter of some surprise, though, that Dr. Disney left almost nothing in the way of money or personal property. " Dr. Disney made some very unfortunate invest- ments," Mark Brompton said to Mrs. Disney; for it was known that Dr. Disney had written Mr. Bromp- ton the night before he died. Indeed, Mr. Brompton had spoken of this himself. " He arranged with me, however, concerning an interest in the Tubal-Cain Iron Works, in case I could manage it for him. You will have an income from that one of these days." EPILOGUE. m The simplo fact was that Dr. Disney had appealed on behalf of John in that letter, earnestly pleading that for the sake of "his boy" Mr. Bronipton would not have recourse to the law. This was what Mark IBrompton called an "arrangement." But it gave him an opportunity to do a kindly, generous thing for both Mrs. Disney and John, and wbilo some people might question the truthfulness of his state- ment no one could question the purpose of his heart. Madge allowed nothing to inteifere with her work at the Mission. Though her heart was almost broken when her father died, yet she went on bravely in the divine service of comforting and helping others. Her bright face, her kindly ways, her quick, eager, earnest sympathy, have endeared her to scores and hundreds of the laboring and heavy laden. Hugh Dunbar is going on just as we saw him in the beginning. He startles people every little while, but that does not distress him. Men say that he is a " radical," which, he says, means " progressive." Others say that he is a " revolutionist," which, he says, means " turning things right side up." Some of his ministerial friends say that he preaches noth- ing but " humanity," upon which he smiles and re- plies : " So far I have met only human beings in my ministry. Please send on your angels." His one theory for everything is "the Christianization of Christianity." Of Sister Nora it need hardly be said that she re- members with the most tender fidelity her mother's holy legacy. Her wealth she administers as a sacred trust. Her womanhood she has consecrated to the 992 DWELLERS IN GOTHAM. cause of the poor and the forsaken. Her noble Hfe is a benediction to all who como within its reach. Wo read that after that terrible conflict in tho wilderness, when tho tempted One waa worn out with hunger and weakness, ungels camo and ministered unto Him. That mighty parable is repeated in tho life of to-day. Sister Nora may not have tho wings of an angel, but she has the heart of an angel. Among tho angels there may be fairer faces, but no more earnest or loving soul. But among all tho women of Gotham there is none more tender, more kind, or more pitiful than Sister Nora, < elife 1. 3 the with tered n the vings ingel. it no 1 tho more rs-