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■ f

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM

^ Homancc of Ncit) IJork

By ANNAN DALE

TOROxNTO:
WILLIAM BRIGGS

Wesi.ky Buildings.

C. W. COATES, Montreal. S. F. 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,"

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

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

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

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

^^.

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

ill

1(1

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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

/•

e
e
i-

e
n

s.
n
1-

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."

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

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.

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

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

#►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.

IS, in

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care

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[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 !■

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

, (

1 ' ' ''

1 > 1 1 i

1 k

[ ■ 1-

,; h

1 : '

( \

1 '

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.

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

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.

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

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

it I

! '

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.

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

■ i

I !f

r t 1

iiti i'-

ii ;

ill

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.

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

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.

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"-

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

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

. (

MARK BROMPTON'S NEPHEW.

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

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

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

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.

'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,"

:!|

•1

!''■ It J
lit' '

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.

. 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

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.

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—^

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

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.

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.

•

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

}

Jl i

■ 1 i

i ! ■

' i

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.

len

the

Lave

the

hile

rod's

life I
of a

ually

tge—
iture.

itand-

h the

le OIU^

n the

■*

2 the

(

imons

n due

apart
The

■

litter

. '

planet
which

. 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

•

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-,"

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

J f

'i ,

|!(>

•ill

CHAPTER YI.
A Reverend Radical.

((

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-

A REVEREND RADICAL.

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.

h • .a

f^-

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.

" 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

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

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

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

< ■'♦.

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

will

othing
those
■nestly

I, pity-

I Bland

lof the

true a

[adge's

[action

len he

irking

A REVEREND RADICAL.

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

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.

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^'

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;;

MAKING STONES INTO BREAD.

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

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

( i

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.

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

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

''V^. • ♦ "'V, ^:c^

MAKING STONES INTO BREAD.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

i( ■

" 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

^•:

t*.

THE DREAM AND THE REALITY.

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.

ft I

'ill

f :

i f

llif

!lH

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.

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

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

f I

i !

i \. i

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.

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

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.

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.

.;*:, A*

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM

; I I

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.

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,

'Hi

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

''I
ij

i;l !

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.

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

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.

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-

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

V i\

: ii

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.

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*;!'!

'I I

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

, f

til

'■■ ■,^!:

[y ■■!

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.

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

i\:

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

i T

ii '

; i
''1

ifiy

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

DWELLERS IN G0T14AM,

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

den

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

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

,iti 1

ji'

iri

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.

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

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WEBSTER, N.Y. MSSO

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DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

ill.

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

A SUNDAY ON THE EAST SIDE.

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

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.

" 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.

•

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

CHAPTER XII.

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."

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."

lie

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

-*»*

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."

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."

|pet

lise

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

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

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.

com-
the
L, his
exact
with
efore
y all
ithno
could
ngton
thing
born

iora

)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.

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.

HUGH DUNBAR HAS A REVELATION.

103

tant
•mal
den

"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.

,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.

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

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

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

!>■ t

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<l useful," was the quick reply of
Madge, for she was fully the equal of her keen, ready-
witted brother.

*'Eoof V8. Flooring," and John laughed as he
spoke ; " Miss Disney counsel for the plaintiff."

" But in this instance don't adopt the usual course,
which is, when you have no case, abuse the plaintiff's
attorney."

" Frightened already. A poor lawyer you would
make. Considering your high lineage," turning to
his father and bowing with an air of profound def-
erence, " and also the high ciiuracter of your associ-
ations," gently patting his own breast, " I looked for
better things from you."

" Nevertheless," said Dr. Disney, falling into the
humor of the situation, " as the judge in this case,
which I need hardly say is one of the most impor-
tant ever brought before this court, I must give judg-
ment for the plaintiff."

"Your honor will be good enough to note an ap-
peal," came from John with such forensic voice and
attitude as to break down all court solemnities and
fill the breakfast room with hearty laughter.

" A telegram, sir,''' said the neat waitress, a maiden
of African descent, who came in with the familiar
yellow envelope. The doctor opened it and read :

i»

^ '«.

A TORTOISE AND HIS SHELL-

" My dear father died very suddenly this morning.
Will expect you all to-morrow.

" Caroline Disney."

" O, my poor mamma," burst out Madge, the tears
rushing to her eyes.

" And from her letter received yesterday morning
we thought he was getting better," Dr. Disney said,
as he looked at the telegram which he still held in
his hand.

Mi's. Disney's father, not a bad sort of a man,
by any means, lived much as a tortoise lives — a
slow, heavy, ponderous life, with very little of the
man himself, almost everything going to shell. In
his case it was not the inward man which was re-
newed day by day, but the outward man, for the in-
ward man kept on shrinking and shriveling, so that
when he came to die there was hardly enough for a
proper funeral. But the seventy odd years which he
had spent upon his shell had not been in vain, for
there were railroad bonds, bank stock, first mort-
gages, several pieces of city property, together with
substantial interests in two or three manufacturing
concerns.

Mr. Kathan Haddon was not fitted by genius and
daring to enter upon such enterprises as Mark
Brompton ; neither had he the skill nor ability of
Philip Arlington ; hence his *'- scales " were not the
result of business energy or commercial life. But
he could live as the tortoise — close to the earth and
turning everything into shell. Hence he wore last
year's coat and last year's hat, a rule which was en-
forced upon every member of his household. His
8

- t

114

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

lasted him more than one year, or even two nor
could he see any reason why it should not be the
same with his entire family. His table and general
living arrangements came under this same order;
hence the scales steadily grew, so that by the time he
was fifty years of age his shell was well developed
and his rank among the tortoises was understood.
That one son went to the dogs completely ; that a
daughter ran away from home and made a most ill-
starred marriage ; that his poor wife gave yp in utter
despair ; that his neighbors considered him only a
miserly skinflint — in no way affected his course ; he
just went on, adding yearly to the substance and
weight of his shell.

After his death the several scales of his shell were
divided, Madge and John receiving their due propor-
tion, but for some reason Mrs. Disney's interest in
the scales which fell to her was restricted to their in-
come. The tortoise probably had its own reasons for
this. Dr. Disney was remembered only in an inci-
dental way, which in a " last will and testament " is
usually most aggravating. Of course there were
the usual disappointments, heartburnings, jealousies,
bickerings, for no matter how large the tortoise shell
may be, or how carefully proportioned its scales,
some get too much, some get too little, while some
get nothing at all. Those of this last class seldom
indulge in expensive mourning. If the tortoises
have any place of meeting in *' the great beyond,"
and if they have any knowledge of the squabblings
over their shells, what interesting and varied subjects
of conversation they must have !

I M

A TORTOISE AND HIS SHELL.

115

1* •

Under these new conditions the Disney family
could not spend the usual summer season at New-
port, for Newport is no place for garments of woe.
Besides, Mrs. Disney, though she was fully aware of
the narrowness and sordidness of her father's life,
mouiTicd for him most sincerely, for his going left
her the last one of the family. His will also gave
her some unpleasantness, not because of any failure
to provide for her, but it recalled certain suspicions
which her father had entertained regarding her hus-
band.

It was decided, therefore, to break away from all
associations and spend the vacation at Martha's Vine-
yard or Kantucket, places which would at least have
th^ charm of novelty, and where they would escape
the formal, heartless condolence with which society
afflicts the afflicted.

116

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

CHAPTER XV.

The Steamer and the Barge.

DR. DISNEY'S horses, which were treated with
marked consideration by the entire household,
most assuredly resented the insult which was
put upon them in having to take the family carriage
to the Fall River steamer. Every attempt at an
honorable compromise had been made — the trunks
and general baggage sent by express, tlie servants
taken to the pier in a hack, as far as possible all sign
of vacation travel was removed, but all in vain, and
the terrible strain upon their injured feelings evi-
denced itself in almost every movement.

As for the coachman, words cannot describe his
sense of deep, unpardonable wrong. Up to this hour
he had gloried in his high office, sharing most gen-
erously in the dignity of the fortunate man whom he
favored with his service. He was therefore shocked
beyond measure at the suggestion of going down on
the North River pier and taking his place in a line
with common hacks and express wagons. Nothing
but the tearful remonstrance of a pretty housemaid,
who lived on the same street just two doors below,
prevented him from laying down his whip and quit-
ting the household of which he was such a distin-
guished member. f

The horses behaved fairly well on Madison Avenue,
even though they were going downtown — for there

*^ I

THE STEAMER AND THE BARGE.

117

:in-

are certain sections of the city below a given line
which are still habitable to families of the Disney
class. With the exception, therefore, of a high-bred
contempt, which in justice to tliemselves they could
not but manifest, the horses were passively decorous.
But when they were taken from Madison Avenue,
compelled to go down Broadway as far as Canal
Street, they became furious, and once or twice were
on the point of bolting. And yet what they felt was
not as a dewdrop to the sea in comparison with the
shame of the august Michael when a cable car li ire-
ling had the audacity to stamp his bell right boiiind
him ; nor was the base gripman content with even
this, but actually called out, " Hey ! Get out of the
way ! " Could Michael's feelings have just then em-
bodied themselves that gripman would soon have
ceased to cumber the earth with his vile presence.
But, with a superb self-mastery, Michael held on his
way without so much as turning his head or seeming
to hear the repeated shouts from behind. At length
it suited his convenience to drive a little nearer to the
sidewalk, which enabled the cable car to pass ; but
the magnificent contempt with which he met the
threatening looks of the irate gripman was coachman
art in its noblest altitude.

Warren Street at length was reached, but the ap-
proach to the pier was a huddled, crowded mass of
all kinds of vehicles — hacks, wagons, trucks, drays —
some on their way from the ferries, others trying to
reach the ferries, each one in the way of some other
one, so that the street was hopelessly blocked. But
whatever Michael may have felt he allowed no si^n

i!!
Ihtl

, I

■Pi

*^v

113

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

to escape him, maintaining his cahn to the end.
Everything, however, comes to the man who waits —
hence in due season the carriage drew up within a
few feet of the gangway of the Pilgrhn^ the steamer
which w^as to sail that evening.

A very winsome and attractive picture Madge
made as she sat on the upper deck with John, watch-
ing the liat-raising, handkercliief-waving, tear-slied-
ding crowd on the pier, as the big sliip moved out
from tlie wharf on its nightly beat through the
familiar waters. New Yorkers are always interested
in the coming and going of the Sound steamers. No
other such fieet is anywhere in the world. And
though of immense size, how easily and gracefully
these steamers make their way ! The swing around
the Battery, where that wonderful curve is made —
and that too amid puffing tugs and crowded ferry-
boats ; the passage under the Brooklyn Bridge, with
the trains running overhead, and multitudes of peo-
ple on their way home from one city to the other ;
the sail up the East Eiver, with the metropolis of the
nation on either side — the towers and steeples, and
buildings over twenty stories high, standing out in
the light — these, though familiar to the average
Gothamite, never lose their freshness and charm.

It was a warm afternoon, warm even for New
York, and the breeze blowing along the ship's decks
was cool and refreshing. Madge and John were
seated on the side facing New York, both of them
deeply interested in watching the people who crowded
the piers — many of the children waving their hats or
handkerchiefs as the big steamer went by.

•'''

THE STEAMER AND THE BARGE.

119

Madge was very quiet, and at times a sad, pained
expression passed over her sensitive face. She was
thinking of the people on tlie piers — thinking of
them very earnestly. She rememhered some of the
things which Hugh Dunbar had said ; for he had
called several times, and each time had spoken of
these same people. Her sense of obligation was be-
ginning to deepen. It began to dawn upon her that
there were cliiims which she had steadily ignored.
This going away seemed selfish — like people fleeing
from a stricken city, leaving the sick to care for
themselves or die alone. Here was she going out
upon a several weeks' vacation, and yet had made
no provision whatever for those who were left be-
hind.

" Madge," said John, speaking in a low tone, for
the deck where they sat was crowded, and he de-
tested loud talking, anyway, " I think if my lot had
been cast with that crowd over there," pointing to
the piers, " I would have been a rank anarchist."

" Not an anarchist, John ? " answered Madge, whose
ideas of an anarchist involved dynamite, arson, mur-
der, and almost everything that was horrible.

" Yes, an anarchist. Just look on that pier. Take
these opera glasses. See those scores and hundreds
of women and children ! Can you see the faces of
the children ? See the poor little babies fairly gasp-
ing in their mothers' arms. Now, this breath of air
is about the only comfort that most of these people
have all through the burning heat. I have been over
here with Dunbar. Some of the tenements are hot-
ter than an oven. The days are fearful — the nights

II 1m
!

lk,ol

120

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

are intolerable. No wonder so many of the little
ones sicken and die."

Madge held the opera glasses to her eyes all the
time John was speaking, but there were moments
when she did not see much, for a tear would come
now and then. Somehow these things had never
impressed her as they did to-day. Formerly she had
either listened to the ship's band or promenaded
along the deck, never giving a thought to the people
on the piers except to be amused somewhat. Now
she was deeply moved by what she saw, for there was
a tragic side to it which she could not but feel.

" I tell you, Madge," John went on, " though some
of our set think Dunbar a mere enthusiast, I feel like
going in for just that sort of thing."

This, however, was more than Madge was quite pre-
pared for. She had got as far as a feeling of sympa-
thy — a proper womanly sentiment — but she was not
willing to embody that sympathy in actual, definite
service ; another proof tliat Madge was human, for
most of us have any quantity of sympathy. We have
sentiment in prodigious quantities; at times our emo-
tions are almost boundless, but they are mostly of the
priest and Levite order, nor do they materially help
the poor fellow who is in trouble by the roadside.

By this time the Pilgrim was nearing the islands
which the city uses for its criminal and insane poor.
Upon these islands the Department of Correction has
erected several handsome buildings, some of them of
impressive architecture, while the spacious grounds,
most carefully kept, add greatly to the effect.

" Look on this picture and then on that," said John,

m n

gjgggjBBW

\lf

THE STEAMER AND THE BARGE.

121

Q little

all the
omenta
1 come
I never
;lie had
3naded
people
]Vow
Te was

•

I some
el like

te pre-

vmpa-

is not

(finite

for

have

emo-

fthe

help

ands
)oor.
I has
n of
nds,

)hn,

glancing first to one side of the river and then to the
other. " See that honest man over there, trying as
best he can to get a breath of air. He comes down
to the river in the evening after working all day in
the hot shop, hoping for a chance to cool off on some
pier or wharf, and is thankful if the police do not
drive him away. Then see that miserable drunkard
over there on that beautiful island, living in a home
a thousand times healthier and sweeter than the man
who is trying to be lionest and sober."

" But what would you do with these weak and un-
fortunate classes ? " was Madge's very natural ques-
tion.

" One thing I would not do," John quickly an-
swered, " I would not house them on the most beau-
tiful islands we have — islands which have a money
value higher than any other property on this conti-
nent. It is both a shame and an outrage to have
these islands used as they are now. They ought to
be opened for parks, for pleasure grounds, for public
resorts, for breathing places, to which the people
should have free access."

" But could that be done?"

"Certainly, and it should be done soon. These
islands belong to the people, and ought not to be
desecrated as they are now."

*' But surely charity is not a desecration ? "

"This is not charity; this is simply putting a pre-
mium upon drunkenness, dishonesty, brutality, and
the common vices of all great cities."

" In what way ? "

" In this way : a man is guilty of any one of the

122

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

crimes named. He is sent over here, well fed, well
housed, with sea water all around him — in short,
spending the summer at a seaside resort, wliile the
wife whom he has brutally beaten or the children
whose bread ho has stolen are sweltering in some
stifling tenement. Hundreds of our common, low
drunkaids are having a glorious snmmer at the ex-
pense of honest, industrious people."

The breeze was now freshening, for the Pilgrim
was rapidly reaching the Sound, with its broad sweep
of waters, broken on the Long Island side with all
manner of little harbors and bays ; while on the New
York side thei'e were numberless inlets for yachts
and small craft of all kinds.

" How beautiful it is 1 " said Madge. " See how the
hills over there stand out ; and the trees, how fresh
and green they are ! "

Just then some children on the forward end of the
promenade deck were observed waving handker-
chiefs, and generally giving vent to their excitement.
Many of the older passengers shared the enthusiasm
of the yoimgsters, so that the scene was quite hila-
rious. On looking for the cause of these demonstra-
tions, a great barge was seen in tow of a good-sized
tug, the barge crowded with women and children
mostly, on their way home from a day's excursion.
The pilot on the Pilgrim saluted the excursionists
with sundry blowings of the fog horn, to which the
tug responded in its very shrill but appreciative way.
As the two strangely dissimilar craft swept past each
other the barge sent out a volume of cheers and
shouts, which the passengers of the Pilgrim returned

fed, well

in short,

rt'hile the

children

in some

inon, low

t the ex-

Pilgrim
ad sweep
with all
the Kew
)r yachts

how the
)w fresh

id of the

landker-

itement.

husiasm

ite hila-

fionstra-

3d-sized

shildren

3ursion.

sionists

lich the

^e way.

ist each

jrs and

turned

THE STEAMER AND THE BARGE.

123

with interest, John joining in with one or two notes
of his favorite college yell — a yell which, when prop-
erly given, frightens even a fog horn, and makes an
Indian war whoop only a lover's whisper.

" That is one of the noblest charities in New York,"
said a passenger to his friend, as they stood watching
the barge, which already was considerably astern.

"Who has charge of these excursions?" said the
otlier, moving over to the ship's side, but not so far
as to prevent Madge and John from hearing the
conversation.

" Some church usually."

" Doesn't the city do something ? "

*' O, dear, no ! The city can get up a junket for
some alderman or other distinguished foreigner ; pol-
iticians arrange such things for their workers and
friends, but these," pointing to the barge, which was
yet in easy sight, "are mostly the work of some
church."

" Of conrse the rich people pay the bills ? "

" Not at all. Our rich people go to Europe in the
spring, to Newport in the early summer, to Saratoga
later in the season, and to the mountains in the fall.
Of course there are exceptions, for some people have
at least a measure of conscience, but as a whole the
rich people of New York do nothing for the sum-
mer of the poor."

"But the newspapers are interested, and they en-
list outside help ? "

" Yes, the newspapers are interested, and only for
them poor people would have an awfnl time in New
York. But take the list of subscribers to the Fresh-

"f%

124

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

lyi

Air Fund, the Frce-Ico Fund, the People's Excur-
sion Fund, any of the Funds brought into promi-
nence by the newspapers, and what will you lind ?
Large subscriptions from rich men and women ? No,
indeed — the money is given mostly by poor people,
the rich do almost nothing.'*

"I wonder why?"

" Simply because they don't know of the terrible
conditions under which so many live. How could
they? I didn't know about these things myself un-
til recently. You know that my business as a con-
tractor brings me into touch with all sorts of people,
and the hard, terrible struggle which many have to
get even enough to eat ?8 simply awfuL"

By this time the barge had disappeared, and the
Pilgritn was moving through the waters like a huge
swan. The sun, released from the smoke and dust
of the great city was purpling the Connecticut hills,
while the sky — a vast, measureless dome, emptied of
cloud and mist — arched ovc • ^lill and sea in wondrous
beauty. Tlie night promised to be one of rare splen-
dor, when no storm would disturb the waters or fog
hide the glory of the stars.

" "Well ! this is indeed a pleasure," broke from
Hugh Dunbar, " and all the more because it was so
unexpected."

" A pleasure w^hich we fully appreciate," John an-
swered, heartily. Madge said nothing, but there was
something in her greeting which Mr. Dunbar seemed
to interpret satisfactorily, for he brought over a
steamer camp chair and sat down quite contentedly.

" On my way to this part of the boat," Mr. Dun-

THE STEAMER AND THE BARGE.

125

3*8 Excur-
o promi-
'ou find?
en? Ko,
r people,

I terrible
w could
^self un-
18 a con-
people,
have to

bar said, " I saw Dr. and Mrs. Disney at their state-
room door, and the doctor desired mo, if I saw yon,
to be the bearer of a most important communica-
tion."

" Which is that it is time for dinner," said John.

" Another proof of your wonderful wisdom, my
esteemed friend. Your college training has not been
all in vain."

"*The knell invites,'" John replied, rising as he
spoke. " Come, my venerable sister. Dunbar, as a
distinguished member of the clergy, please take your
place in the procession."

trid the
a huge
id dust
It hills,
tied of
ndrons
splen-
or fos

from
ivas so

man-
e was
emed
c^er a
dly.
Dun-

II ' i

i:i

! ^

If' •■ ^
Ml hi J

126

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

CHAPTER XVI.

A Social Science Congress.

I EING experienced travelers, and knowing just
how certain creature comforts can be most
easily obtained, our friends soon gathered in
tlie dining room, where a table had been reserved
for them. How many have wearily stood on the
stairway, leading down to this same dining room,
waiting for the distinguished son of Ham to call out
the number which would give them a place ! The
poet surely did not have these stairs in his thought
when he wrote that time was short and life was
fleeting. A more sad or solemn company could
not be found anywhere than that on these stairs,
especially during the rush of the summer travel.
Every step is the scene of an unwritten tragedy ;
plaints, far more dolorous than Job ever dreamed
of, are in the very nails and brass mountings. The
most wearisome moments that human endurance is
capable of have been realized on tliese stairs, and the
feelings with which we have seen people, like this
Disney party, go calmly down without waiting to be
called have made us almost long for another revolution.
"And now," said John, during one of those en-
forced pauses which are such a marked feature of
public dining rooms, "tell us something of this
place to which we are all hastening, for I under-
stand that you also are going to Martha's Vineyard,"

j..fr,,

A SOCIAL SCIENCE CONGRESS

127

wing just

be most

ihered in

reserved

1 on the

ig room,

) call out

le ! The

thought

life was

y could

e stairs,

• travel.

raged J ;

Ireamed

s. The

'ance is

and the

ike this

g to be

^lution.

ose en-

;ure of

this

under-

yard,"

Jolm looked at Dunbar as he spoke, who was seated
very comfortably at Mr? Disney's immediate right,
and just opposite Madge.

"Well, the place itself came into being at the time
of primeval man, and remains about as when created;
nor has there been much, change in the man."

" Then we ar; returning to primitive conditions,"
said John. " Some Boston man has declared that
the original Eden was at the Korth Pole. That I
never believed, just because so many expeditions
have been fitted out and sent to find it."

"If you liave imagination sufficient to make
scrub oaks into apple trees and Gay Head Indians
into Adam and Eve, you may have all of the ' primitive
conditions' you desire. But I regret to say that the
man of trolleys and electric lights has descended up-
on Martha's Vineyard bringing his wires with him."

" That I regret to hear," said Madge.

" Still, let me assure you. Miss Disney, that you
can find miles, sections, regions, where the only
traces of modern civilization are stakes, which must
have been driven by Abraham as tent posts when
he was a stranger and pilgrim on the earth."

"I have heard something of this,'* Dr. Disney
remarked., " but I understood that these stakes were
used by the Norsemen to stay their fishing nets,
which was half a millennium before we discovered
Columbus."

" A few hundred years, more or less, are a small
matter in the presence of these mysterious stakes.
Some day when you are in the woods listening to the
yong of the birds, hearing in the distance the mur-

r :

'Ml

li' '^

; :

> *

■1

t <

t./ il

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

\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 ?

" It has."

" What is it ? "

" I don't know."

fi'

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-

( ;

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.

! .■;

■ 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!

11! 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,

men, the
working
That are
women,
e men ?
young
le after
in I^ew
ould be
ot even

3, bridle
tices to

' 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

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

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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

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

<!)

THE BROMPTON HOUSEHOLD.

143

she herself

be found.

ith an ease,

, which left

lectnal, but
lautif ul, but
le, but she
y, rich, and
luch conse-

my particu-
septing this
which they
enjoyment,
the sea, and
8 agreeable
vhile at the
on concem-

tly assumed
everything
e, and that
igher duty
service was

refore, agi-
le mind of
should it ?
.xpayers in
ets the full
schools and

poorhouses are maintained. Why, then, be annoyed
with piteous appeals or stories of grief-stricken
homes ? Such things were simply preposterous,
containing demands which were senseless and absurd.
Mrs. Brompton had no patience with Hugh Dunbar.
The people of whom he talked were idle, shiftlcos,
lazy, wasteful ; they spent their earnings in drink ;
anything that was done for them only encouraged
dissipation, and Mr. Dunbar was doing harm instead
of good. These things and many others she said on
her return from Europe, where, with her daughters,
she had spent part of the season in the Riviera, not
content, either, with a hotel, but renting one of the
finest villas, and th^n afterward with the American
colony in Paris living in the most elegant way.

Twice, however, it has been remarked of her that
she was not a charitable woman.

" Mark," she said, a few days after her return from
Europe, early in October, " as your nephew intends
remaining in New York, would it not be well for
him to make some arrangements as to a permanent
home ? "

Mrs. Brompton invariably spoke of Edward
Vaughen as "Mr. Brompton's nephew," which
showed on her part a fine capacity for distinction be-
tween blood and legal relationship. It is not given to
every woman to have this nice sense of discrimination,

" Yes ? " answered Mr. Brompton, though he con-
trived by means of the rising inflection to suggest a
question.

" it was all right when you were alone to have
him with you, but, of course, it is different now."

144

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

I.I

i,:i

' '. f

"Yes," Mr. Brompton again answered, but tliis
time there was no rising inflection, which would in-
dicate that lie agreed with Mrs. Brompton that " it
is different now."

" You see the girls will be going out considerably
during the season. If your nephew were here, he
might expect to go with them, and that, of course, is
out of the question."

" Of course," said Mr. Brompton, but whether ho
had reference to the girls going out or Edward ex-
pecting to go with them remains a question.

" Then we must do some entertaining this fall and
winter, and it w^ould be unpleasant for him not to
have some part in it. Besides, it would be embar-
rassing for Percy and the girls to be introducing a
cousin, when he is only a clerk in Keen & Sharp's."

" That is true," assented Mr. Brompton, an assent
which may have meant only one or all of Mrs.
Brompton's propositions.

" Then Percy has his own set ; your nephew would
hardly enjoy them, and they certainly would not
enjoy him."

" Probably not," was Mr. Brompton's reply, which,
like a double-handled pitcher, could be taken either
way.

" When we are dining enfamille it will be pleas-
ant to have him drop in now and then."

" Very pleasant indeed," but Mr. Brompton did
not say if he meant their dining enfamillG or Edward
dropping in occasionally.

" Uncle Mark," said Edward, that same evening,
as he was with Mr. Brompton in the library, " now

U..

id, but tins
1 would ill-
ton that " it

5onsiderably
re here, he
of course, is

whether ho
Edward ex-
ion.

this fall and
him not to
i be embar-
itroducing a
& Sharp's."
n, an assent
all of Mrs.

phew would
would not

eply, which,
aken either

ill be pleas-

jmpton did
c or Edward

ne evening,
)rary, " now

THE BROMPTON HOUSEHOLD.

145

that Mrs. Brompton and my cousins have returned,
I cannot allow n.yself to trespass any longer on
your kindness."

" Suit your own convenience, my boy," Mr. Bromp-
ton answered, with more kindness than he was wont
to show. Then, too, he was honestly glad that Ed-
ward had spoken of this matter, and so soon after the
conversation of the morning.

" You are exceedingly kind to put it in that way,
Uncle ^[ark. I have greatly enjoyed my summer
liere with yon, l)ut a home nearer the office will be
more convenient."

"Have you any place in mind?"

"Yes. Mr. Singleton, the head of my department
in Keen ik; Sharp's, has made inquiries, and I can bo
accommodated in the same house with him."

" Pleasant house ? "

" Fairly so ; at least it looks so."

" AYhere is it ? "

" On a street leading from "Washington Square."

" Is it a hotel ? "

"No, a family boarding place."

" Expensive ? "

" O, dear, no ! "When I am a partner in the firm
or the president of some insurance company I may
then come uptown, where I can have a suite of apart-
ments, but for the present I must be content with a
hall bedroom and the run of the house."

" Yes, I remember. In the winter you warm the

room by leaving the door open, getting what heat

you can from the hall. Your room is just about as

narrow as this," drawing an imaginary line down the
10

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146

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

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library, "with a eiiiglo bed — wooden, of course — and
painted brown; one eliair, a sliaky little table, a wjush-
stnnd, a waslibowl conHiderably chipped on the edges,
tlie pitcher broken at the li^), a bureau over in one
corner, surmounted by a mirror neither useful nor
ornaniental."

"Evidently yorr memory has not failed you,"
Edward said, a pleasant smile overspreading his face.
" I looked into my room for a minute, and you have
reproduced it exactly."

Mr. Brompton said nothing for a moment or two.
Memories were crowding in upon liim of his early
struggles in New York. A pained, dissatisfied look
filled his eyes as ho glanced swiftly around the largo
but unhomelike library. Then he turned to Edward,
and in a voice which was almost lioarsc said :

" I was happier in just such a room than at any
time since."

" O, Uncle Mark," Edward was beginning, in the
thoughtless sympathy with which youth is so gener-
ous, when Mr. Brompton interrupted him by saying :

" Happier, a thousand times happier. Then I had
my dreams, my hopjs, my ambitions, but what have
I now ? Come in ! " for some one tapped on the
library door, w^hen a servant entered with the special
delivery mail, which gave tlie closing quotations from
the exchanges.

In an instant Mr. Brompton's face resumed its
usual expression ; rapidly he scanned the lines of fig-
ures; once he seemed as if he would make some
remark on the reports which he was holding in his
hand, but he went on with study of the lists, frown-

1 ''

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THE BROMPTON HOUSEHOLD.

147

course — and
able, a wash-
on the edgoR,
I over in one
I' useful nor

failed you,"
ing his face,
tid you liavo

ncnt or two.
of his early
5atisfied look
nd tlie large
I to Edward,
said:
than at any

ning, in the
is so gener-
Q by saying :
Then I had
t what have
ped on the
the special
ations from

esumed its
lines of fig-
make some
ding in his
ists, frown-

ing slightly once or twice ; then ho stepped over and
laid them on his desk.

" Did you tell Mr. Singleton when ho might expect
you 'i " was his next question.

" I thought, unless you had some objection, I might
go to-morrow."

" To-morrow is Saturda3\ Why not remain hero
over Sunday ? "

" Saturday being a half-holiday, I could spend part
of the day in getting to rights, and so be able to
begin the week in my new home."

And was that the only reason, Mr. Edward
Yaughen ? Had not some mysterious influence in-
formed him that the Brompton household would
prefer not to be embarrassed with his presence ? If
he remained over Sunday he could not but accom-
pany the family to church, for on this first Sunday
after returning from abroad Mrs. Erompton would
see to it that the family occupied the conspicuous pew
which had been comparatively vacant so long. If
Edward was in the family he must, of course, have a
place in this pew. That would give him recognition
at once, more especially when it is remembered that
many of Keen & Sharp's clientage were in that
congregation. With such contingencies as these it
was not to be expected that Mrs. Brompton could be
in love and charity with all men or enjoy the privi-
leges of the sanctuary in her usual devout way.

Had she said anything of this to Edward Yaughen ?
It is only men who f.re so clumsy and awkward as to
have recourse to words. To such a woman as Mrs.
Brompton words are almost superfluous. She could

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DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

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Bmile in italics. "With tlio twitching of a lip, the
movement of a nostril, the set of her chin, she could
deliver an oration and yet not open her mouth. A
flash of her ejc contained more matter than a printer
could set up in a whole day.

Hence not a woi'd was said to Edward Yaughen,
nor did Mrs. Brompton fail in anything of courtesy;
iioverthelet-3 before even slie had s])oken to lier
husband EdwarU had concluded his arrangements
with Mr. Singleton.

"Mark," Mrs. Brompton said tliat night, as she
came into licr hus'oand's room for a few moments be-
fore rct'rir-g, where she found him still examining
the papers which had come during his conversation
with Edward Yaughen, " have you had an oppor-
tunity of speaking to your nephew of the matter we
talked of this morning ? "

" Yes," was the replj'', looking up for a moment
from the exchange lists.

*' Of course you mentioned it to him ? " yet while
she assumed that he had, still there was a lingering
doubt.

" No," Mark answered, not without a sense of
enjoyment.

" No ? " she repeated, and this time the interroga-
tion point was very manifest. " I fully expected
tliat this ^'onld have been arranged before Sunday."

"So it will," Mr. Bromptcn said, reaGouringly.
" Edward mentioned the matter to me, not, however,
before he had made his own arrangements for leav-

mg.

" He mentioned it ? " Mrs. Brompton's (juestiou

) f"

THE BROMPTON HOUSEHOLD.

149

of a lip, tliO
iliiii, she could
sr inoutli. A
than a printer

rard Yaiiglicn,

ig of courtesy ;

ipoken to her

arrangements

night, as she
»v moments be-
itill examining
s conversation
liad an oppor-
the matter we

for a moment

n ? " vet wliile
as a lingering

ut a sense of

tilt! interroga-
ully expected
•ore Sunday."
reaGK^uriugly.
not, however,
lents for leav-

ton's q^uestion

waa set in a delicate tracery of doubt, like a diamond
pin in a bit of rare old lace.

"Yes. lie has engaged rooms downtown, and
will leave here to-morrow."

How many things will work out of themselves if
we only let them alone 1 If our patience were only
equal to our impatience, how much easier life would
be I But, instead of waiting for the tide to come up
and float the difficulty away, wo tug and pull and
strain, using up strength which we can ill afford.

If Mrs. Brompton had waited for but one more
day, how pleasantly Edward Yaughen's leave-taking
would have arranged itself! Only think of all the
pleasant things she could have said — chiding him for
leaving so abruptly, urging him to come in at any
time, hoping he would consider himself one of the
family, even regretting that he had thought of going
away at all !

Just about the time that Mr. and Mrs. Brompton
were discussing Edward Yaughen two other members
of the Brompton household had the same theme under
consideration.

" I think Cousin Edward might have remained
with us all winter," said Janet. " One more or less
would not make much difference in a house so large
as ours."

" Janet, I am surprised at you," Ethel said, with a
fair degree of sisterly asperity.

" I see no reason why you should be."

" What would people say ? "

" That we had given a home to our cousin, a young
man '^ ' o had recently come to the city."

150

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

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"It is the cousin part of tlio young man that
causes the trouble."'

" Ethel, tliat is downright nonsense."

" Janet, you arc positively rude."

" Suj)po8ing I am, what has that to do with the
cousin part of Edward Vaughcn ? "

" Everything. Can we have him tagging every-
where after us ? Must he be included in every
invitation that comes to the house? When our
friends are here is he to be presented as a member of
the family ? Think of introducing Mrs. Sharp to her
husband's clerk or Miss Keen to her father's office-
boy ; for he is not much, if anything, more I "

" Nevertheless, Ethel, it docs not seem the right
thing to have one's own cousin go off to a common
boarding house, while we have any number of empty
rooms."

" It is just as I said a moment since — the cousin
part is the cause of the embarrassment."

" Then let * Mr. Edward Yaughen, a visiting friend
from Eastwich,' remain here ; let the cousin part,
which so distresses you, remain in the office of Keen
& Sharp."

" Janet, you never have any difficulty in being
absurd."

" Nor you, Ethel, in being unkind."

" It is but a few moments since I said you were
positively rude."

" Yery likely ; you have a genius for saying hate-
ful things."

" Janet ! "

" Ethel ! "

"f I

THE BROMPTON HOUSEHOLD.

tit

; man tliat

3o with the

^ing every-
d in every
When our

member of
I harp to her
iher's office-
re!"
n the riglit

a common
er of empty

-the cousin

iting friend
ousin part,
ce of Keen

y in being

They were both angry by this time, and both char-
acteristically angry.

Ethel's anger was cold, deliberate, of the cog-pinion
order, the one part fitting into the other i)art with
terrible precision. Ethel never lost her temper,
hardly ever varied her tone, and among those who
were not favored witli her intimate friendship was
regarded as of a most patient disposition.

Janet's anger was hot, impulsive, galvanic, pas-
sionate ; sonietimci^ she would get into a towering
rage. Janet lost her temper, she raised her voice,
and was spoken of quite freely by certain of her
friends.

These sisters quarreled frequently, though never
in public, and such sisterly admonitions as each felt
called to bestow upon the other were given in the
sacred precincts of home.

Meantime Edward Vaughen's trunk, containing
most of his worldly possessions, was in his little hall
bedroom, so faithfully described by his Uncle Mark.
The next day he bade farewell — a farewell which
cannot truthfully be spoken of as " aggressively affec-
tionate " — to the Brompton household.

i you were
lying hate-

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DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

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S I I

The Firm

CHAPTER XVIIT.

f Linsey & Woolsey.

UT all this time wliiit of Mrs. 8;

uivicr ? When
recoveriiiir

wo Biiw lier lurit bIic was slowly
from a lon^, serious illness — a recovery which
was very much retarded by Sister Nora's unfortunate
mention of Dr. Disney's name, and its strange cfTect
upon the sick woman.

Sister Kora knew Dr. Disney very well, for he had
attended Iut mother in that lon<(, sad sickness, the
memory of which would cast its shadow upon all of
life. He had also been with her at the time of her
father's death, and had been exceedingly tender and
Bymi)athetic. No physician could have been more at-
tentive, no one more willing or thoughtful or kind, no
one more faithful in the discharge of every duty or
more watchful of those under his care. When
finally those dread moments came, in which science
and skill stand helpless, how gently ho led her from
the room; nor did his courteous attentions cease
when his duties as a physician ended, but as a friend
and adviser he was most helpful in every way.

All these things Sister Nora gratefully remem-
bered, for she was preeminently just ; and yet try as
she would there was a certain feeling of distrust, even
fear, associated with his name. Hence when she
recalled that scene in Mrs. Sauvier's she found
herself wondering as to its cause and meaning.

THE FIRM OF LINSEY & WOOLSEY.

153

!!• ? Wlien
rccoveriiii^
very wliicli
infortiinjito
aiigo effect

for he had
3kne8s, the
upon all of
ime of her
tender and
n more at-
orkind, no
ry duty or
e. When
ch science

her from

^ons cease

Is a friend

ray.

remem-

^et try as
Irust, even
Ivhen she

le found
Imeauing.

Ihit whatever tlio secret was Mrs. Suuvier kept it
to herself, not even referring' to it, merely requesting
tliat the visit of Madge Disney be postponed, for the
present at any rate.

As for Oberta, the sunnner had gone in much the
usual way, for just as soon as it was possible she re-
sumed her place in the store of Liusey tSc Woolsey as
saleswoman.

Oberta had hardly crossed the lino of childhood
.when she discovered that her mother's needle was the
chief source of the family supplies. She determined,
therefore, at the lirst opportunity to relieve her
mother of something of the burden which she had
borne so patiently all these years. The child waa
brave, independent, of high spirit, and though ut
lirst Mrs. Sauvier would not listen to Oberta's sug-
gestion, yet in the end the girl prevailed.

She began her public duties one Christma^- sea-
son, when the rush of trade was so great that the
ordinary service was not suflicient to meet the
throngs who crowd into the big stores to do their
sight-seeing and holiday shopping. For nearly two
weeks she edged her way through the blocked-up
aisles ; she dodged in and out among the cnstomers
at every counter ; she carried her little basket with
its tiny parcels to the nimble-fingered wrappers and
cashiers, hurrying back with all possible speed ; she
tried her best to respond to the calls of *' Cash I " or
the tapping of impatient clerks on the counters,
which calls and tapping hardly ceased for a moment.

As the days wore on, her eyes became larger, the
hollows in her cheeks deepened, her face lost all

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154

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

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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

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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.

156

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

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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 !

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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

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.

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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

t ,'

I ■■ !,
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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

" 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

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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

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,

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 i

r IbHb

III illlj

I SI!

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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.

rour

lack

..il

•f ^ i »

'' fin: i

'(!• ;iT

:i: l!i

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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-

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

;'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

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^

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

174

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

; (

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

^ 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.

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 '

ill

f ,

ii !

!i^

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

t
M

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.

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

U^IM 125
■ 2.2

■ 40

ISi

2.0

1.25 i 1.4

i
1.6

- 6"

Photographic

Sdences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716) 872-4503

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

" 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

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

188

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

• ■

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!
adiiiiriii<r
1 be liad

?•

r did his
nongh to
le secret.
Smitliers
►d work-
far from

r. "Wood
; the old
igs were
He en-
Ilarlem
ness be-
rieet bis
rood&

fortune
been a
J otlier
: to liis
d that
e same
)where
uiring
can to
ndred
IP was
w and

then. Mrs. Smithcrs made the very most out of
wliiit he earned, but when five people are to bo fed,
and the wa<;e8 of the breadwinner cut down more
than half, to keep actual hunger away was almost im-
])0S8ible. Then it was that Jamie came to the fore.
Like a little man he worked so as to make up, in
part, the shortage in tlio family income. Hardly
would he have finished his breakfast before he was
at his bench, where he remained the whole day. His
work was so line and delicate, involving the play of
long, slender fingers, that his father could not help him
very much. But he carved and rasped, he filed and
])olished just as merrily as ever. Poor little fellow I
Sometimes when he went to bed he couldn't sleep,
he was so tired, and there were pains in his back
and chest which distressed him greatly. Once in a
while he would get on his mother's knee, just as he
used to do when he was younger. She would gather
him up in her arms, sing to him, croon to him, talk
to him out of her mother heart, then he would hob-
ble over to his bench and take up his work again.
He never said anything about the j^ains in his chest,
or the hours that he lay awake in the night. His
face, always pale, grew whiter and thinner, but he
smiled just as bravely as ever, hiding even from his
mother every sign o( weakness. "When he heard his
father coming up the stairs he would begin to whistle
some little air which he had learned from Effie or
Rob, just as though he would greet with boyish glad-
ness the weary, discouraged man.

Sister Nora accidentally (Sister Nora's " accident-
ally" might be changed to intentionally in many

*'(

190

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

caacfi) made tlio acquaintanco of the Smithers family,
and it was not long before her visits were times of
great joy to little Jamie. She took a de(;|) interebt in
his eurvings, diHpoying of many of them at much
higher priceH than tlie curio man was willing to pay.
This bhe explained hy saying that her friends made
their purchases through her, thus saving the usual
charges of the dealer.

At the right time she mentioned Mr. Dunbar, with
theliope that he might be permitted tocomo in some
day and see Jamie at work.

"When Mr. Dunbar camo Mrs. Smithers was nerv-
ous and embarrassed, but Hugh soon nuidc himself
BO much at home that the good woman got over all
her fears. He talked with Jamie about the different
kinds of wood upon vvliich he was working. lie went
over to the bench and examined the various tools
that he used, lie got Jamie to explain liow certain
carvings were made, and, all told, spent nearly an
hour, talking mostly with the boy, who was delighted
with him.

" It is very kind of you, sir, to come an' see my
poor boy," said Mrs. Smithers, as she held the little
lamp over the stairway, so that Mr. Dunbar might
have the light on his way down.

Mr. Dunbar stood for a few moments on the land-
ing, for he saw that Mrs. Smithers had something
more to say.

" I hope, sir, it is not askin' too nmch if sometime
you might call again."

Mr. Dunbar promised to do so, also expressing the
pleasure which his visit had given him.

-W^

WEE JAMIE.

191

lers famil}',
•0 times c>f
> 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.

••^tM

'ti

t- m

cheap brier,
rs. Siiiithers

esent. The

[jonsiderably
that was hia

as lie culled

^mething to

ho said nuy-
ibout Hugh

aid, looking

them Swiss

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

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.

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.

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

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

■•

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.

: »

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 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.

MRS. CUBBINS ASKS QUESTIONS.

207

rch
[•n-
he

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 ! \

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

210

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

III

'ft' 1.1

,;)

■:!

, 1

i!!

■Il

i i'

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.

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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

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

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

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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

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220

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

■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

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

f ,

If
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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 F

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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

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226

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

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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.

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-

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

•**-*

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."

' I

I." ii i

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i

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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."

'H.

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

236

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

W '1

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■ 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

238

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

J'! 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

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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,

. \

242

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

\ I

If'

1 it

'«!

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

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(!<l
with soul tears. Tlieii ho roBo to his feet, ahnoHt
bta^gered a(T088 tho room, o|»ened a Hiiiall caHO, took
out a tiny bottle, poured into a ghiHH a few drops of
Bt)nio powerful dru«^, which ho dihited with water
beforu drinking, and soon aftur was fabt asleep.

'•*"

-H>,#

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 — "

248

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

L<1

"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.

, i

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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

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. 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,

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DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

.)!'

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

THE MYSTERIOUS CONSULTATION.

255

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

256

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

\,i

M.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
contrastin<r the" r^y i"! g' w ^th the iilent night, and at
the same time fu nieJ! c new experience.

It was abouL ni !•! oVl"ck. "With anything like
rapid walking he could ue at the Battery at ten.
There he had a choice of a cable car or the "Ele-
vated," returning in good season to finish his letter.

The night was fairly cold, though not rough and
blustering, as it sometimes is in New York about
midwinter. It was one of those still, quiet nights
when the stars hang low in the heavens and sparkle
wondrously in the frosty air.

With his fur cap prilled well down on his head,
his ulster buttoned up to his chin, his hands in
heavy gloves and swinging at his side, Edward strode
along most joyously. And why not ? Was he not
just crossing the threshold of young manhood and
entering upon the very fullness of life ? With a
magnificent physique worthy of a young Apollo ;
with blood throbbing and tingling in exuberant
health ; with hopes that stretched out before him as
clearly as the street upon which he w^alked, why
should he not stride along in all the vigor and daring
of youth ?

How quiet and almost deserted Broadway w^as as
Edward walked along I What a sharp contrast with
the earlier hours of the day ! In the forenoon the

"il

THE MYSTERIOUS CONSULTATION.

257

crowds keep growing, until one wonders where all
the p^iople caie from. How difHcult it is tc make
our wry, and how inucii more ditiicult to cross the
8t*oet I Tiic endless prueestiion of vehicles, or, ratlier,
the double procession — for there is a stream going up
as 've^' as one going down — causes some lively and
even daring movements on the part of those who
must pass from one side of the street to the other.
The wonder is not that so many people come to grief,
but how few ; for we are a reckless folk L?king all
manner of chances to save a minute's tinu.

And when we are in the region *A City Hall,
where the Brooklyn stream coming and ' >ing 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

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258

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

I !

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

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

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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''.*

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.

■ ,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

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'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.

272

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

li 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

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

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(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

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

(.</!
■*

MADGE VISITS THE MISSION.

281

not taken up for a time, but one to which he had
given his life. Madge was quite worldly in her way.
bhe was a thorough Gothainite. She enjoyed the
week of the Horse Show ; she was partial to smart
gowns and becoming hats; she liked going out to
balls and receptions and parties. It was an article in
her creed to see the best there was at the theaters
and hear the best there was of the operas. She was
by no means either romantic or sentimental. Slie ad-
mitted, of course, that poor people had claims, and
that it was beautiful of Mr. Dunbar to espouse their
cause as he did. Still, so far, no sense of personal
duty had come to her.

But as she stood there in the hall waiting for
John — she was ready fii'st, an unusual circumstance,
in all truth — she did not show any marks of inward
disturbance, looking rather like a picture of womanly
peace and feminine contentment.

With that instinctive sense of the proprieties which
is common to every genuine woman, her costume was
very unobtrusive. So far as apparel was concerned
no one would have taken her as belonging to tlio
smartest set in tliQ city. Still there was something
in her face and bearing which removed her quite *a
distance from Mrs. Silas Smithers. A brisk walk of
about ten minutes brought them over to Second Av-
enue, where they took the " Elevated," which rapidly
carried them downtown. Going to a mission church
in the lower part of the city on a Sunday morning was
a new experience with Madge. It was almost as novel
as that Coney Island trip. Indeed, the feeling was
very much the same. Looking out of the car window,

282

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

blio noticed the immense numbers of people on the
avenue and side streotH. She saw also that most of
tlie Binall stores were open and that Sunday had but
scant recognition. As tliey went farther down slie
could not fail but oi)scrvo conditions of Viih which
she had never inui;;incd in her native city.

With her Sunday was usually a very quiet day.
In the morning she went to church with lier mother.
In the afternoon slie read a little, but wrote more, as
this was a good chance to catch up with her coitc-
8j)ondence. In the evening a few friends dropped
in, so that the time was taken up some way. Sunday,
Ijowever, -was not a red-letter day in the Disney
household. Tt was therefore a great surprise for
IVIadge to see how the day was spent on the East
Side.

" John," she asked, with a more serious face than
she usually wore, " are tljcre no churches in this part
of the city ? "

" A few," answered John, " but very few."

" And yet tlie other evening Dr. Bland said there
were too many churches in New York."

" Too many in certain parts of New York, but cer-
tainly not too many over here."

" How, then, about libranes and schools, and things
of that sort?"

" They are no more numerous than the churches.
There are serious conditions over here. Dunbar is
on the right track. But what can one man do in
such multitudes as these ?"

Madge said nothing, but looked out of the car win-
dow with even deeper interest than before. John's

MADGE VISITS THE MISSION.

283

mention of Dunljar's name onco niuru lieiglitcncd hur
color anil gave a clearer li^lit to lii;r eves.

In duo season tliey rea(;lieil the Mission church,
where AIa<lge saw a very diflerent j)e(>|)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 — "

" 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

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

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

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.

(

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

'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.

fi::/'

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

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-

mtt.

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.

:#^':^

- *■ >.•■

JOHN DISNEY HITS HARD.

305

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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

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

I I

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'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

<•>

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'll

310

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

" 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

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 >

;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.

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.

r.i

■ill

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

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

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

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

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.

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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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

i
■f

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."

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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

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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

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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.

346

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

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■-

" 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.

IHj

b- n

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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

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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.

(?^'

,('•

III

352

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

" 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

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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.

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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

TO E?/"

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358

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

ki ;■

*■*,,,

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.

she
'0 in
llivid
She
She
her

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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>\

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I I^K J; '

, j

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\ nS^vt'

■flBE K

tSt i\

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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.

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 ^'

■ '■ "i

1 '«

■ ^

■* ;

" 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 :

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366

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

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-
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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

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WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716)872-4503

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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

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370

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

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-

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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

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

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374

DWELLERS IN GOTHAM.

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.

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

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

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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-

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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.

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,*

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.

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.

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,

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