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 WALTER BARRETT, CLERK 
 
 AUTHOR O* 
 "THK OLD XBBCHANTB O7 MXW TORK CITT." 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 Carleton, Publisher, 413 Broadway. 
 MDCCCLXIV.
 
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, In the year 1883. 
 BT GEO. W. CARLETON, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
 District of New York.
 
 3 Ctebicate i\)is Book 
 
 TO 
 
 JAMES GORDON BENNETT, ESQ., 
 
 Proprietor and Editor of the New Tork Herald. 
 
 Who has carved for himself a record in Journalism that will last as long 
 as newspapers are published because he first told me that I had those 
 peculiar imaginative qualities that would enable me to write a success- 
 ful novel. This will test his sagacity. Long years ago, he asserted in 
 the most positive manner that I had qualifications that would give me 
 marked success as a novelist. I laughed at him because I did not 
 believe, him. He asked me if I had read many of the great novels^ 
 and when I replied in the negative, he gave me money to purchase 
 novels written by Scott, Bulwer and others. I read their works, but 
 I did not write a novel then, though I thought much of what Mr. Ben- 
 nett had said. Since then I have done more than write for the daily 
 bread and butter for my family, and have found leisure to write this 
 novel, which may or may not verify the predictions of Mr. Bennett. 
 
 WALTER BARRETT, CLBBK. 
 
 (TON'S BiKTH-DAT, 
 
 February 22, 1864. 
 
 1634330
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The Introduction. 
 
 HOLLAND has sent to our shores many of her best citizens. 
 She has the merit also of having commenced two hundred and 
 forty years ago, and some of the best families in New York 
 are of the Neder Duitch stock. The country is overstocked 
 with hock deuischers of more recent importation. 
 
 Not many years ago I made a visit to Holland. I resided 
 for some months in Delft, the capital of Delftland in the Prov- 
 ince of Holland. Having business at the Royal Academy, 
 where I was having various models made, I endeavored to pro- 
 cure a residence in a private family. Through the exertions 
 of Professor Lipkins I succeeded ; and the second day after 
 my arrival, found myself installed into a quiet country villa 
 about half a mile from the city. It was located upon the bank 
 of the canal that connects Delft with the Hague. My host, 
 whose name was Van Hagen, was a man of great age, and his 
 vrouw was. still younger. They had no children, but occupied 
 this beautiful villa alone. It had a large and well cultivated 
 garden attached to it, and its neatness and luxuries still leave 
 a pleasing impression upon my mind, x 
 
 Over the gate was a motto but whether it was indicative 
 of the mind of the owner, or his coat of arms, or indicated the 
 character of the place, I never inquired. It was in gold let- 
 ters, or made of brass, gilded LUST EN RUST or Hope and 
 Repose. 
 
 It was a pleasant morning's walk from my host's country 
 villa into the city of Delft, and the sudden transition, from the
 
 8 VIGOR. 
 
 tranquility of the country to the busy hum of men was very 
 striking. The canals, with their numerous drawbridges in 
 the heart of the city, lined with Treckschuiyts of all sorts and 
 sizes, gave a relief from country quietness. 
 
 The first meal of which I partook at my new home was a 
 solitary one. Every thing was neat, and the victuals well 
 cooked. I had a silver fork by my side, and the table cloth 
 was of snowy whiteness, and in the room in which I dined wag 
 a glass China cupboard, and every article within it bore shining 
 testimony of it's having received a due proportion of diurnal 
 care. After my meal was finished I was joined by my aged 
 host and his worthy lady. They had dined previous to my 
 arrival. He addressed me in English, somewhat to my sur- 
 prise, and remarked " You are an American." 
 
 I replied that I was, and he added, " Had you not been, I 
 should not have consented to entertain you even at the request 
 of my old friend the Professor of the Royal Academy." "You 
 seem to be partial to Americans, and I certainly feel thankful 
 that it'is so, for Delft is a gloomy place, while here I am alrea- 
 dy at home. But why are you so friendly to America ?" I 
 asked. He replied, " I once thought of going to America. 
 My brother went out there many years ago, with a young wife. 
 It was during the time that the French occupied Holland, and 
 our king was then Louis, the brother of Napoleon. He was 
 ambitious to restore the fallen fortunes of our house, for we 
 are one of the oldest families in Holland ; and some day when 
 we visit the city, I will show you a monument in the " ould 
 kirk " at Delft of one of our name, who was buried in 1562, 
 and was a famous scholar in his day. Now, my young friend 
 all of our old race are in America except myself. Had my 
 brother not died, I should have sold my property here, and 
 followed him over the sea. I am not rich, but in comfortable 
 circumstances, and as a Director appointed by the Government 
 to keep the dams and roads in repair I receive a handsome 
 fixed salary, and am content to live and die where my ances- 
 tors for five hundred years before me have lived and died." 
 
 I listened to the old gentleman's remarks with the very 
 deepest interest, and after he had concluded I asked, " What 
 part of America did your brother and his wife go to ?" 
 
 " To Charleston, in the Southern part of America," replied 
 the old gentleman with great simplicity. 
 
 " To Charleston in South Carolina, you probably mean." 
 
 " Yes, that was the place."
 
 VIGOR. ' 
 
 " You have heard from your brother frequently, I presume, 
 before he died ?" I asked. 
 
 " Yes, frequently, until somewhere about the time that Wa- 
 terloo was fought. Th&t was when ?" 
 
 " In 1815," I added. 
 
 "Yes. Soon after then I got a letter from him. He had 
 been very successful in business, and had acquired considera- 
 ble property as a merchant. He owned a plantation and ne- 
 groes, but he wrote me that his health was failing. He had 
 two children, both girls. Not long after I received the letter 
 in which he stated he was sick, I got another from my broth- 
 er's widow. She wrote that he was dead." 
 
 " Was that the last you heard from your relatives in 
 Charleston'?" I asked. 
 
 " No. I received a letter occasionally for several years, de- 
 scribing the growth of my two nieces, one of whose name was 
 Margaret, and the other Mary, who was some years younger 
 than her sister, and was not born until the year in which my 
 brother died. For twenty years I have not heard a word or 
 received a line from any of them. 1 wrote frequently, but no 
 reply came, and I suppose they are all dead." 
 
 When I parted with the venerable Van Hagen, I told him 
 that very probably I should at some future day, after my re- 
 turn to America, visit Charleston and in such an event I 
 would diligently seek out any of his race or name, and if I 
 ascertained that any were living, I agreed to write and inform 
 him fully in reference to what so nearly concerned his family 
 love. 
 
 Years passed away before I found myself in a position to re- 
 deem my promise. I had occasion to go to Charleston, and 
 while there had rooms at the Charleston Hotel, kept then, and 
 I believe now, by a most excellent landlord of the name of 
 Mixer. ^ 
 
 With his assistance I obtained a clue to the locality where 
 I would probably find the relatives of my ancient Dutch friend, 
 I was obliged to undertake a short journey into the country, 
 and to reside for some time in a spot that at certain periods 
 of the year is a modern G-arden of Eden. Fruits and flowers 
 flourish in the most luxuriant manner. Game is abundant, an(l 
 the rivers and creeks are stocked with fish ready to bite at the 
 most insignificant bait. 
 
 I returned to Charleston, and immediately devoted my time 
 for several days in writing a letter to the aged Vau Hagen in 
 Delft, Holland*.,! enclosed the letter to William S. Campbell,
 
 10 VIGOE. 
 
 Esq., the United States Consul at Rotterdam, a city only one 
 hour distant from Delft. 
 
 After dispatching my formidable document, I left for the 
 North. I had not been in New York a great while when I re- 
 ceived a private lette? from Consul Campbell, informing me 
 that old Adam Van Hagen was dead, and had not received my 
 letter. 
 
 Luckily I kept a copy of the letter I had sent to Holland. I 
 determined to re-write it in a book form. A faithful narrative 
 required me to embrace the adventures of One of the descend- 
 ants whose spirit of enterprise led him to New York. As a 
 consequence I had to bring in other names, and use many oth- 
 er matters of interest indirectly connected with one of the 
 family. 
 
 I will now relate in a regular manner what I have to say. 
 But in order to do so with spirit, I will commence a new 
 Chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 [This Chapter was written before the outbreak in 1861.] 
 
 South Carolina and her People Marriage of Henry Monck to Miss Van 
 Hagen Munck'n Comers Country Ftvcr Birth of Marion Monck. 
 
 SOUTH CAROLINA was the State in which the descendant of 
 the old Holland Van Hagen was born, and who is also the 
 principal hero of this narrative. The State, as her leading sons 
 affectionately designate her, in Congress and elsewhere, has 
 ever been regarded as the most aristocratic State in the Fede- 
 ral Confederacy, and her sons and daughters as the very elite 
 of the great American population. Even the P.F.V. or " first 
 families of Virginia" by general consent, back down gracefully 
 and give place to an old South Carolina family. In the North, 
 Southern travellers who can assert with truth that they are 
 South Carolinian, hold their heads at a more lofty elevation 
 Jlnd their right to do so is never disputed. Northern people 
 cave without a murmur to South Carolina pre-eminence. 
 
 The actual opinion of a genuine South Carolinian of his 
 State, and of him or herself, is not put on for show, while tra- 
 velling or while conversing upon the subject. They honestly 
 believe what has the appearance of being egotistically asserted
 
 VIGOR. 11 
 
 * 
 
 and the humiliating idea that South Carolina is not the gen- 
 teel and the most powerful State in the Union, if not the only 
 State of any account, and her population the most enlightened, 
 most wealthy, most happy, most prosperous, and the best edu- 
 cated, is never entertained for an instant in the breast or brain 
 of a genuine South Carolinian. 
 
 South Carolinans are a singular and an exclusive sort of 
 aristocracy. They believe in their own institutions of all 
 kinds, and have a holy horror of Northerners in general. It is 
 true that this Japanese sort of exclusiveness is not so intense 
 as it was a few years ago. Yankee pedlers, Northern mer- 
 chants and storekeepers have emigrated into South Carolina, 
 made fortunes, and in many instances made alliances by mar- 
 riage with some of the best blood in the State. Both parties 
 have gained by these marriages. Families of two or three 
 hundred years' standing, but broken down, sx> far as finances 
 were concerned, have been married into by men of business 
 habits, literary merit, or property qualifications, and the happy 
 result has been a much healthier progeny, intellectually and 
 physically, than when the descendants of the old families mar- 
 ried with each other exclusively. Such marriages have done a 
 great deal also to soften the prejudices of South Carolina 
 against the people of the more Northern States. 
 
 South Carolina may be said to be divided into three parts 
 the upper, the middle, and the lower division. In the latter 
 are to be found the largest planters, and those who own the 
 greatest quantity of slaves. These planters reside near the 
 banks of the Cooper and Ashley rivers, both of which pass 
 Charleston on each side, and then unite and pass onward to 
 the sea. 
 
 It was on the banks of the Cooper river that my principal 
 character was born. 
 
 I have already mentioned that in the early part of the cen- 
 tury, a Dutch gentleman and his wife emigrated from Delft, in 
 Holland, to Charleston, South Carolina. Delft, already alluded 
 to in the introductory chapter, was famous many years ago for 
 its crockery. The city is located about midway between the 
 Hague and the city of Rotterdam. Martin Van Hagen, as well 
 as his brother Adam, was born in an old house stretched upon 
 the mainland, and directly opposite to the old church in which 
 William, Prince of Orange, was assassinated. 
 
 When Martin and his wife decided to try the United States, 
 they took passage i-an American ship at Rotterdam, bound 
 directly for Charleston. They reached their destination in
 
 1 2 VIGOR. 
 
 safety. Ere they had been ashore a month, Mr. Van Hagen, 
 who had cash capital, had engaged in mercantile business, and 
 he had also secured a small wooden dwelling-house on the 
 corner of King and Warren streets. The building is still 
 standing. In this house the family resided several years, and 
 their affairs prospered. They were blessed with two daugh- 
 ters. One named Margaret and the other Mary. A consider- 
 able interval elapsed between the birth of the eldest and the 
 youngest. Shortly after the birth of Mary the father died, and 
 left a widow and two children. 
 
 They continued to reside in the old house long after the 
 father's death, but before the eldest reached the age of sixteen, 
 she married a young American of the name of Henry Monck, 
 and shortly after his marriage he conveyed his bride to his 
 own home on Cooper river, in the parish of St. John Berkley, 
 not far distant from the celebrated Monck's Corners, a name de- 
 rived from his ancestors, one of whom emigrated from England 
 at a very early period of the history of South Carolina. The 
 Henry Monck who emigrated to South Carolina was the second 
 son of that English Admiral Monck, who, in 1640, fought the 
 great battle that lasted three days with the Dutch Admiral 
 de Ruyter in the time of Charles the Second. It was under 
 permission of the Admiral Monck that Vandervelde, the great 
 inaine painter, plied between the fleets, so that he was enabled to 
 represent every movement of the ships, and every material cir- 
 cumstance of the action with astonishing minuteness and truth. 
 But to return to young Monck. When, he married Miss Van 
 Hagen he was not twenty-two years of age. His father died 
 when he was very young, and by some rascality of his guar- 
 dian, before he became of age he was robbed of nearly every 
 negro that he had inherited at his father's death. When he 
 married he was only the owner of two negroes, a dwelling- 
 house, and about three hundred and sixty acres of land. This 
 quantity of paternal acres would have been a great property if 
 located in some parts of the Union, but at Monck's Corners, 
 where land in those days was as reasonably cHeap as " seven 
 pence " an acre, the value of the land only amounted to about 
 forty-seven dollars. 
 
 The dwelling house was large and commodious, with a wide 
 hall through it, and a spacious piazza in front. All the out- 
 buildings were good. The store cpntained about five hundred 
 dollars'" worth of merchandise, of a suitable and assorted char- 
 acter for that region, so that the young ocuple started on their 
 marriage career under very favorable auspices. The lands
 
 VIGOR. 13 
 
 owned by Henry Monck bordered on Cooper river, and he had 
 only to seat himself in a boat, and it would float down with the 
 ebb tide to Charleston City, about thirty miles distant by wa- 
 ter, The State road passed his door, and a drive of twenty- 
 eight miles would take him to Charleston by land. It was 
 very easy, under such circumstances, to replenish the stock 
 of goods in his store whenever it was called for. The 
 young couple were also blessed with health, and though poor 
 white people, yet they had no reason to envy their more pros- 
 perous neighbors, the rich rice planters of Cooper river. It 
 frequently happens in the state of South Carolina that those 
 who appear to be most rich are in reality the most poor, while, 
 on the contrary, those who are comparatively poor, but out of 
 debt, are the most independent. Our agricultural readers will 
 be somewhat astonished with the information that rich lands, 
 teeming with luxuriant vegetation, located both by land and 
 water within thirty miles of the queen city of the south, should 
 ever have been at low a figure as twelve and a half cents the 
 acre. Yet such has been the fact, and even now, fifty-four 
 years later, rich lands, capable, by proper attention, of produ- 
 cing as valuable crop as are made on the best land on Long Is- 
 land, and valued at five hundred dollars the acre, can be 
 bought for one dollar and fifty cents to two dollars an acre, with 
 a dwelling-house upon them. But Northern farmers, although 
 well aware that rich lands are to be had in South Carolina at a 
 very low figure, refuse to emigrate to South Carolina as they 
 do to Virginia, because not slavery but the country fever. 
 It is worse than yellow fever, African fever, or any other fever 
 but itself. It is a scourge a terrible scourge, and wo to a 
 Northerner or Southerner who places himself in the way of 
 country fever. If he takes it, and escapes with his life, it 
 breaks his constitution forever. Our readers have got so fur 
 this tale as where Henry Monck carried his bride up to 
 Monck's Corners. They were married in December, and at 
 that season the country in the neighborhood of Charleston is a 
 paradise. The bride' was delighted with hef new home, and 
 all went on pleasantly and prosperously with the new couple 
 until the month of August of the year succeeding their mar- 
 riage. When May came, Kenry told his wife of the danger 
 that she would incur by residing on their place in the summer 
 months, and proposed that they should go into the Pine lands 
 some ten miles distant, and there erect a log cabin for their 
 residence in the summer nights. He told her that he did not 
 fear the country fever, and that she might escape it if she
 
 1 4 VIGOR. . 
 
 would go to the Pine region before sundown and spend the 
 night there, returning to the plantation and store in the morning, 
 after the dew had been driven off the grass by the rays of the 
 sun. So they arranged matters, and for weeks and months un- 
 til far into the summer they left their dwelling before sunset 
 to go to the log hut in the Pine region, and there escaped the 
 danger of the miasma worse than that of the pontine marshes. 
 Mrs. Monck enjoyed excellent health, and could Scarcely credit 
 the horrible but truthful stories she heard related of the im- 
 mediate effects of the country fever. When told of Mr. Smith, 
 who had accidentally been caught out at night, and slept in 
 the woods, only succeeded by the long sleep that knows no 
 waking it seemed to her a dream. When told that to sleep, 
 unless a large fire was kept burning all night, was certain 
 death, she could not credit it; and finally, as the -summer 
 passed into autumn, and it became necessary to use extra ex- 
 ertions to get in the crops of their small farm, which was cul- 
 tivated by her husband and the two old negroes Phillis and 
 Toney that remained out of the wreck of his property, she 
 found it so inconvenient to go to and fro night and morn- 
 ing between the two places, she told her husband that she did 
 not believe there was any danger, and refused to leave her 
 dwelling to go any more to their log cabin in the pine woods. 
 He begged her to wait until the " black frost " came, the only 
 sure remedy or preventative of South Carolina country fever. 
 No. Before September closed she had it, and though it ran 
 nine days before it was broken, yet she recovered, after 
 months of suffering. 
 
 On the second of December, 1814, a year after their mar- 
 riage, Mrs. Monck gave birth to a son. 
 
 She had visited with her husband the grave of General Ma- 
 rion, in St. Stephen's Parish, had been over the grounds where 
 he had fought his battles, and she insisted that her child should 
 be baptized in Biggin Church, famous in revolutionary history, 
 and that he should be named after the hero of whom she had 
 heard so much ;' and so the boy was baptized by the Rev. Mr. 
 Howe as 
 
 " MARION MONCK." 
 
 He was an only child, and father, mother and son vegetated 
 at Monck's Corners, with more or less prosperity every year } 
 until Marion had reached his eighth year.
 
 VIGOR. 15 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 Young Monde t Boyhood Jack Bird and Mr. \Negro Black Wild Turkey 
 Hunting and Finking. 
 
 WHEN Marion Monck was eight years old, like other south- 
 ern boys, he was capable of playing almost the game in life of 
 a man. He could hunt, fish, ride a horse, or drive a team, 
 and was a great favorite not only of his own relations, but of 
 many of their neighbors. Some of these became Marion's in- 
 structors in all manly arts. One of the names of these men 
 was Jack Bird. He was a fine specimen of a man. His age 
 was over 60, and he stood six feet and a half without boots, 
 and his frame was well proportioned. He could neither read 
 nor write, but he would secure more wild turkeys and deer in 
 twenty -four hours than any other man in South Carolina. Jack 
 was a fair specimen of many poor white people. His den or 
 cabin was in the Pine woods, some three miles from the Santee 
 canal, and there he kept his wife and eleven children, all grow- 
 ing up in the ways of old Jack. Jack Bird owned no cows, or 
 hogs, or poultry. Why should he ? His neighbors on Cooper 
 river owned large herds, and well, Jack could steal as many 
 as he needed for home consumption, or as he could safely sell. 
 
 Marion had always been an immense favorite of Jack's, and 
 although the position in life of Mr. Monck was several degrees 
 above that of Jack Bird, yet the latter did not envy or injure 
 him, and would have gone some distance out of his way to 
 have done Mr. Monck or his wife a service. The mother re- 
 paid Jack for all his kindness to her son, by giving him choice 
 bits of tobacco occasionally out of the store, and he frequently 
 returned the compliment by leaving her a fat wild turkey, a 
 brace of wild ducks, or when these were scarce, a dozen 
 pigeons, partridges, or robins. Whoever else Jack Bird plun- 
 dered was of no consequence lie left the denizens of Monck's 
 Corners unmolested, and they were grateful whenever occasion 
 offered. 
 
 Charleston people frequently visited Monck's Corners to 
 have a hunt, and Jack was always to pioneer on such occa- 
 sions ; but wo to any unlucky favorite pen-knife, .pencil-case, 
 or fish-hook that fell in his way ! It was sure to be missing if 
 it took the fancy of six-foot Jack.
 
 16 VIGOR. 
 
 Jack had trained Marion until he had become one of the 
 best wild turkey hunters in the parish. He could discover, 
 with little trouble, where the wild turkeys came to feed. He 
 would then prepare a hiding-place in the neighborhood, and 
 fix a gun loaded, so as to command a reach of ten or twenty 
 feet in a trench by the side of a log. This trench he would 
 bait with corn, and then trail the corn off in several directions 
 to places where the wild turkeys would be likely to see it. A 
 day or two only would pass when Marion would discover that 
 the turkeys had found the trench and had ate the corn. This 
 he would refill, and so do every morning for a week, until the 
 turkeys had made a regular business of crowding the trench. 
 Then Marion would select a particular morning, go early to his 
 hide, and conceal himself, with the barrels of his duck gun 
 loaded with buck-shot, bearing directly upon the track. Bye- 
 and-bye he hears a noise one, two, twelve, twenty, fifty wild 
 but unsuspecting turkeys arrive they jump over, and on, and 
 around each other, to get at the corn. Marion quietly pulls 
 one, and then the other trigger bang, bang ! Some turkeys 
 get off, but nearly all remain. Twenty-eight are dead, and 
 Marion goes home for a negro Toney and the one horse cart 
 to convey his spoils home. 
 
 Another especial friend of Marion Monck's was Negro 
 Black. His original name was John Black ; but besides being 
 a poor white man, a hunter and day laborer, he added to his 
 slender income by catching negroes. Hence his nick-name of 
 Negro Black, by which he was known not only throughout St. 
 John Berkeley, but by many planters in other sections who 
 had runaway negroes to catch. Like Dick Bird, he had a wife 
 and eight or ten white-headed children. Mr. Black had one 
 source of revenue, and it was always a sure and profitable one. 
 It arose from successfully hunting wild cats. When a prowl- 
 ing wild cat made the fact apparent that he was in the neigh- 
 borhood, by catching up chickens or small pigs, the planter 
 upou whose premises the animal had made a demonstration 
 was seen to dispatch a summons to Mr. Negro Black. 
 
 It is a very curious fact in respect to the habits of a wild 
 cat, that when he approaches a plantation, or rather the dwell- 
 ings on a plantation, where his designs lay, whether it be to 
 catch poultry, chickens or pigs, he goes to work in a regular, 
 scientific business manner. The cat exhibits no greediness. 
 If he lights upon an old sow that has a litter of eleven or more 
 nice little delicate pigs, wild kitty commences with using up 
 one a day, and no inducement of appetite can force him to in-
 
 VIGOR. 17 
 
 crease the quantity. If no discovery is made by the owner of 
 the poor old sow, at the end of the eleventh day she is pigless. 
 The instant the overseer discovered by the regularity of the 
 thefts that a wild cat was about, he sent for Negro Black. 
 Perhaps it took one, two or three da} r s, but Negro Black was 
 a sure coffin for the cat. He and his dog Victor never failed. 
 The cat was a doomed cat, and Mr. Negro Black received the 
 skin and $10 as his fee for the operation. Negro Black had a 
 jealousy of Jack Bird, and he maintained that the mode Jack 
 had of catching wild turkeys, by a hide, was deliberate mur- 
 der. It gave the turkeys no show ; and he taught Marion 
 another method. At a certain- season, when the wild turkeys 
 get scattered, he would go into the woods with Marion, and 
 pile up a lot of brush wood. 
 
 " Get behind that with your gun, pull the brush wood over 
 you, and use the whistle." 
 
 It was many days before Marion succeeded in shooting a 
 solitary wild turkey ; and even before that event took place, 
 Negro Black's patience became quite exhausted ; for while 
 Marion's gun was idle, and not a wild turkey would come nigh 
 him in answer to his whistle, Negro Black would be off in a 
 different part of the woods, and kill several. At last he broke 
 out 
 
 " Why you no whistle as I do, when you go for catch wild 
 turkey ? Take your whistle and blow leetle bit turkey hear 
 him wait no blow again until you hear turkey answer then 
 blow a leetle harder wait turkey answer again then blow 
 one soft, slow blow, and don't blow any more. Wait turkey 
 come bye-and-bye sure den pop him. Turkey like young 
 girl. If young man want take young girl for his wife, he give 
 one call little girl don't answer it no use. Young man hab 
 patience and wait. Bye-and-bye little girl make reply. Young 
 man call again wait until the young girl come, like tur- 
 key, and say, ' I'm yours.' ' 
 
 Another and a third mode of killing wild turkeys, taught 
 Marion by his hunter teachers, was to watch in the woods to 
 hear where they roosted. He would hear a turkey fly at sun- 
 down, apd very soon would trace a flock. If it was moonlight 
 Marion would go for his gun, and four or five turkeys would be 
 his reward. Or if it was very dark, he would wait patiently 
 for the first glimmering of daylight, and then pop off a few tur- 
 keys before they had left the " turkey roost." 
 
 Marion's two friends were both fishermen as well as hunters ; 
 and where in the world is there such sport with . the finny
 
 18 VIGOR. 
 
 tribes as at Monck's Corners ? Hours, day and night, Marion 
 used to spend on the banks of the Biggin creek, or on the side 
 of the old Santee canal. Sometimes with a small dip net he 
 would catch one, two or four shad, as they dashed up to the 
 waste way of the canal, and in the months of February, March, 
 April and May, with the hook and line, in Biggin creek, he 
 would catch trout of the size df eleven pounds, rock fish, perch, 
 brise, catfish, and mullet by the million. 0, such sport as he 
 had in these well-filled waters. Every fish that belongs to 
 salt or fresh water is caught in the Biggin creek, or Santee 
 canal, when the tide, is running in or out. Thousands of nights 
 coald Marion have been found with his dip net on the bank of 
 the Biggin creek, the whole scene made as light as day by the 
 " light wood " bonfires, and sometimes he and hjs companions 
 wohld be thus engaged, with more or less luck, until daybreak. 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 Marion's Education Death of Grandmother Aunt's arrival at Monck's Cor- 
 ners the Store Negro Customers. 
 
 WHILE Marion Monck, by violent exercise, was developing 
 his physical powers, his mental were neglected, so far as edu- 
 cation was concerned, during these years of child and boy- 
 hood, or until he was over ten years of age. At that time he 
 had not acquired the first letter of the alphabet. His grand- 
 mother came up from Charleston occasionally to spend a few 
 days, but our youth never returned to town with her. About 
 this period, the grandmother, who had came over from Hol- 
 land with her husband, died in the city of Charleston. Her 
 remains were taken to Monck's Corners for interment. So soon 
 as her affairs were settled, the eldest daughter left Charles- 
 ton and went to Monck's Corners to reside permanently with 
 her sister, Miss Monck. This event had a very important 
 bearing upon the education of Marion. She was a very intel- 
 ligent lady, had reading many books, and possessed* a very 
 general knowledge of what it was now highly important that 
 young Monck should know. 
 
 The Aunt found in her nephew, a well developed handsome 
 boy, capable of leading in any manly enterprise, and accom- 
 plished in all manly sports. In place of A B C, he knew the 
 number of every fish hook ; if he had no knowledge of grammar
 
 VIGOR. . 19 
 
 he could ride a horse, and join in a deer hunt. If he had no 
 knowledge of geography, he knew every spot where game 
 could be scared up, and for arithmetic he could catch fish and 
 game to an extent that even David could not have counted. 
 In a word, he could ride, drive, hunt, fish, or swim equal to 
 any man in St. John's Parish, if thrice his age. He was in- 
 telligent, could talk well on many and most subjects, his in- 
 formation having been derived from the conversation with 
 others. His aunt, who regarded a good education as every- 
 thing in life, became very much alarmed at finding a nephew 
 ten years of age who could neither read or write. She deter- 
 mined to remedy what she regarded as a degrading evil. 
 Marion felt that it would at least be convenient to read at 
 last, and willingly became a prompt pupil to his aunt. His 
 progress was very rapid, for he had an iron memory. The 
 A, B, C, was soon acquired, and night and day did he devote 
 to learning, until he could read anything, wrote a plain hand, 
 could " do " any sum in Daboll's arithmetic, and had Murray's 
 grammar by heart. Moore's geography was soon mastered, 
 and Marion had acquired at least as good a foundation in use- 
 ful and necessary learning, as is given in the District schools 
 of the North. It is needless to add that he had acquired 
 from his mother and aunt the Dutch language, and as his 
 teachings from the aunt were partly in that language, he could 
 read and speak it as well as he could English. His father 
 devoted most of his time to the plantation, and to raising 
 horses, cattle and hogs. His mother superintended the house- 
 hold matters, and also attended to the store. When Marion 
 was able write and reckon, he became of vast service to his 
 mother, and spent a great portion of his time in the store, and 
 when customers were rare, he had a book in his hand. He 
 literally learned it by heart, and what " he knew, he knew." 
 
 He continued until he was nearly fourteen years old. The 
 store was quite an affair. The stock of goods was limited, and 
 articles were bought in Charleston once a month, or ordered by 
 letter. The maze consisted of coarse dry goods, bacon, coffee, 
 sugar, rice, whiskey, tobacco, pipes, cigars, crockery, soap, 
 lead, butter, spices, tin buckets, and coarse wooden ware. 
 
 The customers were in part the poor white folks, and second 
 the negroes from the adjoining plantations. Fifteen thousand 
 negroes at least, looked to that store for their little luxuries, 
 and the happiness that this store conferred, can hardly be re- 
 alized. Here, sometimes, the slave would come at midnight, 
 having travelled ten miles, with ten more to go before he got
 
 20 VIGOR. 
 
 back again to his home, and perhaps he , would have walked 
 all the distance to get a " fourpence " worth of tobacco for his 
 little bag of corn. When he got it, he was a happy fellow. 
 Sometimes forty or fifty would come together, and then 
 some care and caution had to be exercised, for in such a force 
 in the store at one time, the temptation to steal was too great 
 to be resisted. Each took his turn, while the rest remained 
 outside. Marion became quite a favorite with those negroes, 
 and it was really a pleasure to him to get up and wait upon a 
 tired customer even for the most trivial article. The pay was 
 in corn. Sometimes the negro had received money for his 
 corn, and then he had cash. If it was a bill of five or ten 
 dollars, the slave asked it to be changed into silver, and when 
 that was done, he knew what he was about, and trade com- 
 menced. " How much for dat tin biggin ?" 
 
 " Seven pence." 
 
 " I tax urn," and the quarter would be handed in by the 
 purchaser, and then change given. Trade would then com- 
 mcnce again. 
 
 " How much you ax for dat spider ?" 
 
 " Quarter dollar." 
 
 " Quatah dollah. I gib ten pence for him." 
 
 " Take it." Pay and take change again. 
 
 " Gib me one and ninepence worth of tobacco." 
 
 And so trade goes on, paying for every article as he buys it, 
 from a dollar's worth of homespun to a cent cigar, and per- 
 haps he goes to the plantation where he belongs loaded with 
 small things and no father of a family, or patronesses of 
 Stewart in New York, ever enjoyed spending money so much 
 as these slaves. If it was corn he brought to trade with, then 
 he had it measured. Suppose it was two bushels. The price 
 has been seventy-five cents, and never varies in the negro 
 trade if corn is worth in Charleston only fifty cents or a dollar. 
 Then he pays for his goods with corn a peck, four quarts, two 
 quarts, as the case or price may be of the article bought, and 
 never makes a blunder. 
 
 Now and then two negroes are in partnership, or some negro 
 who could not come, has sent his corn by a friend. The bearer 
 of the corn for another gets what is wanted, and never mixes it 
 up with his own- transactions. How it is done, no bookkeeper 
 in a bank could tell. Sometimes in financial transactions the 
 red corncob is used as a matter of security. One negro owes 
 another. They deposit a red corncob in the hands of a third 
 party as an evidence of money loaned or a debt due. The per-
 
 VIGOR. 21 
 
 son who receives this corncob never gives it up until the debt 
 is paid or cancelled, and then it is done in the presence of the 
 two parties interested. It is a sort of red corncob bond and 
 mortgage, and the parties can't get over it. It is rarely set 
 aside, even by poor white people. 
 
 The attachment of the negroes to this store was wonderful. 
 It was what they looked forward to, when they had cash or 
 corn, as a great blessing in their existence. As an evidence 
 of this, when Marion was about twelve years old, the family 
 were woke up about two o'clock one morning, by a bright blaze. 
 The store was on fire and in less than two hours, being built 
 of pitch pine, it was in ashes. Five thousand negroes were on 
 the ground before it finished burning, and then came sympathy 
 and anxiety for it to be rebuilt. The negroes for two weeks 
 poured in from all quarters at odd hours which were their own. 
 Carpenters from all the plantations volunteered. Others went 
 into the woods with axes, and cut down trees, and hewed them 
 into their proper size. 
 
 Before two weeks had passed the store was rebuilt again, 
 twice its former size ; and when it would have cost, under ordi- 
 nary circumstances, four hundred dollars to rebuild it, it did 
 not cost Mr. Monck fifty dollars and then it was for nails, and 
 things the negroes could not furnish. When it was ready to 
 receive goods, Mr. Monck went to Charleston and bought them, 
 and when the store was re-opened again, there was as general 
 a rejoicing among fifteen thousand negroes and negresses, 
 young and old, as if each one had had an individual interest in 
 the affair. It was a " want." They missed it. It was their 
 place of resort for luxury and comfort, and they could not get 
 along without it. The dark lover, when he was about to wed 
 a darkey bride, could get the rings at the store, and a bottle of 
 cologne, a comb, papers of pins, or any little article, that, when 
 purchased, gave more real happiness than a thousand dollar 
 shawl in other circles of society. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 Parting from Home and from Parents His stay in Charhston Arrival 
 in Ntw York. 
 
 To leave a loved home, loved parents, loved friends, and 
 long-loved associations, at the age of fourteen, to wander forth 
 into the great world with the design of acquiring an education, 
 a livelihood, a profession, a fortune, or any other of the thou-
 
 22 VIGOR. 
 
 sand and one objects of human ambition, is a serious matter. 
 Long and earnestly had Marion Monck communed with him- 
 self, and dreamed by day as well as by night of his future. 
 His mind was made up to leave home. Young as he was, he 
 knew and felt that his father, his family and himself could only 
 hold a second rate position in white society. He could not 
 rank or associate on an equality with the rich planter, and he 
 was somewhat in advance of the poor white class. He was 
 occupying a sort of mongrel white rank, betwixt and between 
 the two white extremes. Marion felt within himself that he 
 had talent and genius, and it urged him on to seek a larger 
 field. 
 
 At last he gained the consent of his parents that he should 
 leave home, and seek an occupation elsewhere, where he could 
 see and learn more of the world. Worthy Mr. Monck wished 
 his son to seek employment with some merchant in Charleston, 
 as he honestly thought that Marion's experience in the store 
 at Monck's Corners would have been a good preparatory school 
 for a merchant's counting-room. Marion promised that in six 
 months he would come back and see them perhaps sooner. 
 The mother packed his trunk, placing a Bible in a flannel shirt 
 carefully, gave her son a few crying kisses, and Mr. Monck 
 drove off with him en route for Charleston. On their arrival 
 at their destination Mr. Monck found quarters for Marion with 
 a friend, and ttye same day started on his return home. 
 
 Charleston was then, is now, and will b fifty years hence 
 the same Charleston. The quicksand bar is still there, shift- 
 ing and changing about the old houses grow a little older 
 the mass of the old wooden tenements gets thicker and more 
 impervious every year the bell to call in the negroes rings 
 at a quarter to nine, and the drum beats at the guard-house at 
 a quarter to ten, to say that all negroes out after that hour 
 without a pass from their masters, if they are slaves, or from 
 their guardians, if they are free, will be locked up in the 
 guard-house for the night, and taken before the Mayor in the 
 morning. The yellow fever makes its appearance every two 
 or three years, just when the Charleston people, because it has 
 missed a year, have begun to indulge the hope that it will keep 
 away five years, and give their favorite city a chance to loom 
 up in the commercial world. But no it seems almost hope- 
 less ; and the dread of yellow fever is like an incubus upon 
 the city, and it is doubtful whether it will ever be taken off. 
 
 For more than a week Marion Monck roamed about Charles- 
 ton, seeking employment in some commercial business. Per-
 
 VIGOR. 23 
 
 baps it was lucky for him that he found no vacancy. No one 
 wanted a clerk of his size, shape or make. One beautiful 
 morning he wandered down about the wharves, and was admir- 
 ing a stately ship. She was loading for New York. The idea 
 flashed across his mind whether his chances would not be bet- 
 ter in New York than in Charleston. He answered it by 
 going on board and ascertaining the price of passage. It was 
 within his means, and would still leave him something in his 
 pocket to keep afloat a few days in New- York. The ship was 
 to sail the next day. Her name was the Saluda, and her com- 
 mander was the man who had traded so long between Charles- 
 ton and New York, that in the latter place he is known by no 
 other nahie than the Charleston " Berry." Long ago he left 
 the ship line, and has built and commanded every steamer that 
 has voyaged from Charleston to New York. May he command 
 steamers between the two cities for a thousand years more ! 
 
 Marion returned from Adger's wharf to the house where he 
 boarded, and announced to the worthy Mrs. Ferguson, the land- 
 lady, that he had half made up his mind to put out for New 
 York the next day. 
 
 " Wio do you know there, young Monck ?" was her imme- 
 diate question. 
 
 " Nobody." 
 
 " Indeed ! And pray how will you get along without being 
 acquainted with anybody or somebody ?" 
 
 Marion reflected, and replied, " Well, I have had no success 
 to my wishes in this town, where I do know a great maii.y peo- 
 ple, who knows but that I may find a situation among those 
 who don't know me or that I don't know ?" 
 
 And quick as lightning, the idea made him decide to go to 
 New York; and he told the worthy lady, in the most flat- 
 footed and decided manner that he should embark for New 
 York in the good ship Saluda, Captain Berry, the next day. 
 
 " Well, my brave boy, if you will go, I will give you one 
 letter that may be of service to you. I have a niece in New 
 York who is married to a merchant there. She is a Charles- 
 tonian, named Bessy Nordheim, and will give a helping hand, 
 if need be, to a South Carolina boy." 
 
 Marion expressed his thanks, and immediately returned to 
 the ship and paid his passage. That night his landlady wrote 
 the letter, and he placed it carefully in his trunk. The next 
 morning, bright and early, he and his trunk were on board the 
 Saluda, and before meridian the ship had passed over the bar, 
 bound to New York.
 
 24 VIGOR. 
 
 It is useless to give a description of a sea voyage of eight 
 days' duration. Marion was intensely sea- sick for two days, 
 and it did him more good than fifty boxes of Brandreth's pills 
 would have done. On the afternoon of the eighth day, the 
 ship Saluda was moored alongside the dock in Burling Slip, 
 and Marion hired a cartman, and with his trunk proceeded to 
 a boarding house in Liberty street near Greenwich, to which 
 he had been recommended by a fellow passenger. It was 
 nearly dark when he got fairly established in his room, and 
 after he had taken a boarding-house tea, he did the most sen- 
 sible thing a young stranger who made his first visit could do 
 at night, viz., he went to bed. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Marion Monck in New York fre'ents his Letter of Introduction Procures 
 a situation with Granvtlle and Nordheim Home of Air. Nordheim, in Bond 
 Street The Character of the Wife. 
 
 WHEN Marion arose from his bed on the morning qfter his 
 arrival, his head was so confused by the multiplicity of noises 
 which he had listened to from long before daybreak, that he 
 could with difficulty comprehend where he really was. But at 
 last his lonesome position, in a strange city, broke with full 
 force upon bis mind. He thought of his distant home and 
 loving parents, and cried. He could not help it. He was in 
 a great city, without one solitary friend. Bye-and-bye he 
 dressed himself, descended to the breakfast room, and after 
 drinking a cup of strong coffee, felt decidedly better, and much 
 more energetic than he had felt since he left Monck's Corners. 
 
 The landlady cautioned him against getting lost, as soon as 
 Marion told her that he had never been in the city before, and 
 he started out to try his fortune in New York. He wandered 
 about until dinner-time, staring at the million of novelties that 
 his eye encountered, and then he returned home, and went at 
 once to his trunk to get the letter of introduction that his 
 Charleston landlady had given him. He had hardly looked at 
 the address before, but now he regarded it as of some impor- 
 tance. It was directed to a house in Bond street, and he found 
 his way up there, and before five o'clock in the afternoon he 
 had presented the letter of introduction to the lady to whom 
 it was addressed. She received him in a very cordial man- 
 ner, insisted that he should stay to tea, and become acquainted
 
 VIGOR. 25 
 
 with her husband, Mr. Nordheim, who, she said, had resided 
 in Charleston some time, and who was engaged in a large busi- 
 ness in Broad street. Marion felt that there was a hope, and 
 so he did as Mrs. Nordheim wished. 
 
 It was nearly half-past seven before the husband came home, 
 and then the wife introduced Marion, and showed the letter 
 from her Charleston relative. Mr. Nordheim was very cor- 
 dial, and joined his wife when she insisted that Marion should 
 take tea with them and spend the evening. It was not long 
 before Marion discovered that Ferdinand Nordheim was an 
 Israelite. 
 
 Conversation turned upon Marion's prospects ; and when he 
 stated that he was anxious to get a situation in a counting-room 
 or store, Mr. Nordheim observed that the firm of Granville and 
 Nordheim, of which he was a partner, wanted a clerk. " I 
 leave these matters to my partner," said he ; " but in this 
 case, if you will meet me at my store at ten o'clock to-morrow 
 morning, I will make you acquainted with my partner, Mr. Gran- 
 ville, and I dare say some arrangement satisfactory to you 
 may be made. I will tell him how I became acquainted with 
 you, and your own rather prepossessing appearance must do 
 the rest. If he is willing to cngnge you in our service, I shall 
 make no objection ; on the contrary, I will willingly employ 
 you." 
 
 The heart of Marion beat quick and after the evening meal 
 was concluded, Mr. Nordheim, that there might be no mistake, 
 wrote down the address, " Granville and Nordheim, corner of 
 Broad and Garden street," and Marion took his leave. 
 
 At precisely ten o'clock he was in the counting-room of Mr. 
 Nordheim. That gentleman introduced him to Mr. Granville, 
 with such explanations as were necessary, and Mr. Granville 
 led the way into his private office. After cross-questioning 
 Marion for some time, he appeared to be quite satisfied as to 
 his capability, and observed " It will take some time before 
 you can be of much service, but you look as though you would 
 try and learn fast; and although it is not customary with 
 heavy houses to pay any salary for two or three years (Ma- 
 rion was all aghast) don't be alarmed ; in your case, under 
 the circumstances, we will vary from the custom, and give you 
 a salary the first year. What will it cost you to live here ?" 
 
 Marion had no idea. Supposed he could board fcr one or 
 two dollars a week. 
 
 Mr. Granville smiled. 
 
 " Probably four or five dollars will be nearer the mark. 
 
 2
 
 26 VIGOR. 
 
 However, we will make an engagement with you for four years, 
 and give you $250 the first year, $300 the second, $400 the 
 third, and $500 the fourth year. After that your services will 
 be worth whatever you choose to make them, if you get a 
 thorough knowledge of the business meanwhile. Are you 
 satisfied ?" 
 
 " Perfectly, and am very thankful," said poor Marion. 
 
 " Very well then come with me." And he left his private 
 office for the general counting-room, where seven or eight 
 clerks seemed to be very busy. He addressed an elderly 
 clerk : 
 
 " Mr. Wilson, this young gentleman will come into our office 
 to-morrow. His name is Marion Monck. You must try and 
 make something of him." 
 
 Mr. Wilson bowed, and after having given some instruction 
 to Marion as to the hour next day when he would be expected, 
 went on writing his books. Marion quietly took his departure, 
 and went at once to his room, and wrote a letter to his father 
 and mother. The next day he was regularly installed as a 
 clerk with Granville and Nordheim. 
 
 Mr. Wilson, the bookkeeper, explained to him his duties, 
 and stated that as he was the junior clerk, it would be neces- 
 sary for him to commence at the bottom of the ladder, and 
 work his way up. He was obliged to open the store, put the 
 books in the safe at night, lock it up, and give the key to the 
 bookkeeper, and stay and see the porter shut up the store at 
 night. He was also post-office clerk, had to ;o with letters to 
 the office, and bring all letters in Box 910 to the office of Gran- 
 ville and Nordheim. Marion went through the first day with 
 real satisfaction to himself and his employers. His modest 
 willingness to do anything that he was called upon to do, had 
 already secured to him the good feeling of the bookkeeper and 
 the other clerks. 
 
 The store was closed before dark the first day. In fact, such 
 was the usual habit, except on " packet nights," and then it 
 was kept open until ten or eleven o'clock. Marion received 
 the keys from the porter, and proceeded to his home, No. 119 
 Liberty street. He told his success to the landlady, Mrs. 
 Birch, and she congratulated him warmly, adding, " You owe 
 much to the lady who received you so kindly, and who was the 
 means of procuring you the place. I have known young lads 
 wait months to get a situation, and then not so good a one as 
 you have secured in two days. Have you been up town to 
 thank the kind lady in Bond street ?"
 
 VIGOR. 27 
 
 Marion replied that he had not. 
 
 " Then you ought to go at once. Gratitude costs but little 
 in your case." 
 
 These few words set Marion to thinking. He was merely a 
 clerk. Was it right to go and pay a visit at the private resi- 
 dence of his employer ? " Well," thought Marion, " she asked 
 me kindly to call when I got fixed in a place. I am fixed, and 
 through her kindness. I will go up and see and thank her to- 
 night." An hour afterwards he was on the steps of a large 
 three story brick house in Bond street, and had pulled the 
 bell-knob. A negro woman came to the door and opened it. 
 
 " Is Mr. Nordheim at home 1" 
 
 " No Massa hain't come in yet. Missis is in." 
 
 " Go and tell her Marion Monck would like to see her." 
 
 In a moment Mrs. Nordheim herself came out of the parlor, 
 and taking Marion by the hand, led him back into it, and 
 placed him by her side on a luxurious sofa. 
 
 "Well, what luck, Marion ?" 
 
 " Thanks to you, dear lady, I am engaged for four years by 
 your husband's firm but has he not told you ?" 
 
 " He my husband no. I have not seen him since morn- 
 ing. Sometimes I do not see him for two or three days and 
 nights together " and noticing Marion's look of astonishment, 
 she added, " He has so much to do at times, and frequently 
 has to visit neighboring cities on business but never mind 
 him. I ana so glad you have come up to-night. I want to 
 talk to you about Charleston about your home and parents, 
 and South Carolina matters generally. But you must have 
 some tea " and she jumped up, and pulled the bell. It was 
 answered by another negro girl, who took the order. 
 
 Marion again thanked her for being the means of getting 
 him a place, and told her that she did not knt>w how happy it 
 had made him that but for her he should have had a wretch- 
 ed, anxious time of it. " And you must tell me how to show 
 my gratitude," he added. 
 
 Again she took both of his hands in her own delicate white 
 ones, and pressed them closely. " Say no more about it. I 
 need just such a friend as you will be, and if you are grateful, 
 as you say, you will be able to do a thousand kindnesses for 
 me. You must come here as often as you can. I am sadly in 
 want of a beau ; and as you are so young, and from my own 
 State too, I am sure Mr. Nordheim will not be jealous of you, 
 and will let me go out with you for an escort whenever I 
 please. It is very rare now that he goes out with me himself."
 
 28 VIGOR. 
 
 The ice was broken, and before the tea was served they 
 were chatting as familiarly as a couple of children add, in 
 truth, they were both children. 
 
 " How old are you, Marion ?" she asked. 
 
 '' I was fourteen last second of December, and it is April 
 now, Mrs. Nordheim." 
 
 " There, stop don't call me Mrs. Nordheim say Bessy, 
 and I shall like it and you a great deal better." 
 
 Marion laughed, and added, "Well, Bessy, how old are you?" 
 
 " Guess." 
 
 " I cannot. You are married, and " 
 
 " Very well. I am just two years older than your most 
 venerable self, Master Marion. I am but sixteen now just 
 old enough to be your loving elder sister." And with one 
 hand pressed around Marion, with the other she parted the 
 dark brown hair on his white forehead, and pressed it with a 
 pure, loving kiss. " Now, that christens you my brother," she 
 playfully added. " And this," said Marion, throwing one arm 
 fondly about her neck, and putting his lips to hers, " makes 
 you my loved sister." 
 
 The blood rushed to the face of the young wife, and slowly 
 disengaging herself, she sprang up and said, " Now for tea ;" 
 and they sat down to the well-served table. 
 
 " Take Mr. Nordheim's seat, opposite me," said the lady. 
 
 Marion complied. 
 
 " Have you no sister, Marion ?" 
 
 " None and no brother either. I am an only child." 
 
 " And that is my case precisely, and now we will be brother 
 and sistor to each other. I will love you and you shall love 
 
 me, and Mr. Nordheim " She stopped. " Well, Mr. 
 
 Nordheim don't trouble me with any of his doings, and I don't 
 see why I should bother him with telling that I have adopted 
 a brother ; so, dear Marion, when Mr. Nordheim is at home, 
 you must call me ' Madam,' and be as respectful to my lady- 
 ship as if I were Queen of England. But you won't be much 
 troubled with this formality on his account. Now drink ano- 
 ther cup of tea. I suppose your clerkship is very anxious to 
 know how I came to marry Mr. Nordheim, and all about it ? ' 
 
 Marion smiled, and looked anxiously at the beautiful crea- 
 ture opposite to him. She took her hands, and flung back 
 from each side o,f her face the masses of 'dark, beautiful curls 
 that partly concealed her features, and completely covered her 
 snow-white neck and shoulders. 
 
 " I look more like a wild girl than a dignified wife, I sup-
 
 VIGOR. 29 
 
 pose. No matter. Mr. Nordheim was pleased with my cliit 
 of a face, and my long dark hair. I was very poor dependent 
 upon my aunt, and I was tired of it. True, Mr. Nordheim was 
 an Israelite, but my aunt, like a good prudent woman as she 
 is, before she consented no, before she sold me, that is the 
 right word made Mr. Nordheim settle $2000 a year upon uie 
 for life ; and I feel independent, at least, if I don't love him. 
 As he don't beat me, I ain as comfortably off or more so, than 
 I was when dependent upon my aunt. 1 believe he behaved 
 handsomely to my aunt that is, he gave her $1000 the day 
 we were married. Why, what are you looking at me so ear- 
 nestly for, Marion ? I married Mr. Nordheim, became his 
 wife, and he brought me on to this big house. The furniture 
 is elegant, is it not ? But you have not seen it all yet. Now, 
 have you finished your tea 1 Then let us go back to the sofa." 
 
 Marion went with her and took a seat by her side. 
 
 " What do you think of all I have told you ]" she pleasantly 
 inquired. 
 
 " Why, what should I think, except that you have done what 
 pleased you, and I hope you will be very happy." 
 
 Bessy Nordheim drew a long sigh, and then made Marion 
 tell- her all his history, his plans and prospects. 
 
 " I don't like your being iu that boarding-house. Why, it 
 
 would be much more We have plenty of room in this 
 
 house. Why should you not come herel I will speak to Mr. 
 Nordheim about it, but not just yet." 
 
 A key was heard turning in the door, and she jumped up 
 and flew towards the hall. It was her husband. 
 
 " Here is your new clerk, come to thank you and me for his 
 situation, Ferdinand." 
 
 Mr. Nordheim entered the parlor, and without further notice 
 of his wife, commenced talking to Marion. " I hope to find 
 you very attentive to business. I have a great many things of 
 my own to attend to, independent of the firm, and I hope I 
 shall find you ready to lend me a hand when I need it." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Marion. " Anything that I can do for 
 you it will give me great pleasure to do. I owe you my situa- 
 tion." 
 
 Mrs. Nordheim had taken a seat, and listened, bat said nothing. 
 
 " Where are you boarding ?" he asked. 
 
 " At 119 Liberty street." 
 
 Mr. N. made a note of it, and carefully placed it in his 
 pocket-book. " I may want to find you at night. Are you 
 busy evenings ?"
 
 30 VIGOR. 
 
 " No sir. I have nothing to do." 
 
 Very good. I will call at your boarding-house, and some 
 time it may be necessary for you to do some writing for me 
 up here at my house. In such cases Mrs. Nordheim will have 
 a room fixed up for you, and yon can stay all night. I will 
 explain the necessity to your landlady when I call at the house." 
 
 Marion rose to take his leave and as he approached Mrs. 
 Nordheim and took her hand, he felt a gentle detention and 
 pressure, and a glance of those beautiful soft eyes, which said 
 as plainly as if they could have talked, " Don't forget your sis- 
 ter Bessie." Mr. Nordheim did not extend his hand, but 
 accompanied Marion to the door, and kindly bade him good 
 night. He had made up his mind that the handsome intelli- 
 gent boy should be made useful to him in more ways than one. 
 
 When he returned to the parlor, he said somewhat surlily, 
 " That boy owes his place to me. I only hope he will be 
 grateful. He is a stranger here, and I must- go to his board- 
 ing-house and see if he is comfortable. It is my duty to do so, 
 Mrs. Nordheim." 
 
 " It is very kind of you ; but I suppose boarding-houses are 
 not very comfortable." 
 
 " You ought to know ;" and Mr. Nordheim sneered very 
 severely. " I believe your excellent, but somewhat sharp 
 aunt, Mrs. Ferguson, was engaged in keeping a house of that 
 kind, when I was so fortunate as to be struck with your silly 
 face." 
 
 Bessy's eyes were flashing fire under their long dark lashes. 
 
 "Now, madam, I do not expect that. my young friend will 
 be very comfortable at his present location. You heard me 
 say to him that I shall probably require his services up here 
 occasionally to do some private writing for me, and that I 
 should require you to fix a room for him. Now madam, let me 
 tell you, that it is my intention, if he is not comfortable where 
 he is, to ask him to come up here and make it his home alto- 
 gether ; and let me add decidedly, madam, that I expect you 
 will submit to my wishes in this respect, and make no oppo- 
 sition to them. You have objected to my bringing any of my 
 relatives to this house. He is not a relative, but a young boy 
 that will be useful to me, and I prefer to have him in the same 
 house with me. Don't say a word, madam T wi/l have it so." 
 And Mr. Nordheim, who had worked himself into quite a pas- 
 sion, in order to silence any objections that he took it for 
 granted his wife would make, bade her good night, went into 
 the hall, seized his hat, and then passed out into the street.
 
 VIGOR. 31 
 
 What a world ! Could Mr. Nwdheim have looked back into 
 the parlor, and have seen that elegant form, with one foot 
 pressed forward, her figure erect, her eyes sparkling with ex- 
 citement, as she flung back the long curling tresses which she 
 had allowed to cover and conceal her delighted face while he 
 was talking with her, he might have thought that his deter- 
 mined purpose was not so obnoxious to his girlish wife as he 
 imagined. She burst out into a merry, happy laugh as she 
 heard the street .door close, and exclaimed, " Dear, dear Ma- 
 rion ! I shall have a brother with me, after all. Who would 
 have thought that Mr. Nordheim himself would insist upon his 
 being here, when I hardly dared to ask it !" She was as in- 
 nocent and pure as an unborn babe, and it was a sister's love 
 she thought she felt for the handsome boy. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Mr. Monck moves to Bond Street, and resides wi/h Mr. Nordheim The Mcr- 
 ibrary Association JEfjw to learn Languages. 
 
 THE new clerk improved in his capacity for general use- 
 fulness every week, but he had been nearly a month at his 
 new place, before Mr. Nordheim carried out the idea expressed 
 to his wife. He then called on Mrs. Birch, in Liberty street, 
 and apparently was not satisfied with the place selected for 
 Marion. He informed the landlady that it would be more 
 convenient to have Marion at his own residence. He paid her 
 bill, and when he returned to the office of G-ranville & Nord- 
 heim, he informed Marion of what he had done, and told him 
 to hire a cart, and remove his baggage to Bond street that 
 night. It was Saturday. 
 
 " Here is a note, Marion, that I wish you to deliver to Mrs. 
 Nordheim. It informs her that I am obliged to go to Phila- 
 delphia this evening, and may not return until the middle of 
 next week. I wish you to take good care of matters at my 
 house. If any thing is needed, get the money from Mrs. 
 Nordheim and procure it. If she wishes to go any where 
 to church to any place of amusement, you will go with her. 
 In this note to her, I have written my wishes as I have ver- 
 bally stated them to you ; I hope you will be pleased with 
 your new home." 
 
 He bowed and left the office before Marion had any time to
 
 32 VIGOR. 
 
 make any comment. As soon as the store was closed that 
 evening-, he engaged a hack and went to Liberty street, hade 
 his landlady good bye, and with his trunk proceeded to Bond 
 street. 
 
 The hackman had carried his trunk into the hall before Mrs. 
 Nordheim made her appearance. She seemed a little sur- 
 prised at the trunk, but when Marion had shaken hands with 
 hed, and she had read her husband's note, her features as- 
 sumed a different apperrance, and were covered with rosy 
 blushes. 
 
 " How beautiful you do look, Bessy,'' was the involuntary 
 exclamation of Marion as he was led by her into the parlor. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Truant, give an account of yourself, why have 
 you kept away from here a long month ?" 
 
 Marion said he did not see how he could come with any 
 propriety, as Mr. Nordheim had told him weeks ago, that he 
 was to come until the latter directed him to do so, as definite- 
 ly as he had that day. 
 
 " And now that you have come, I am going to make the most 
 of you, brother dear. Mr. Nordheim writes that you are to 
 escort me wherever iTwant to go, and be my protector while 
 lie is gone. Good. I am very much obliged to my husband. 
 Next. I am to fix up your room in the most comfortable 
 manner, and not to fail to treat you with the utmost kindness 
 you see, sir, I quote from the note. In the first place, I 
 fancy that I have already made your room very cosy, as I had 
 a hint this morning from my lord and master, that you would 
 probably come, and as for treating you with kindness, why, 
 you ungrateful brother, after such a long absence, and such 
 sisterly kindness, have you no reward to offer me ?" and, as 
 she put her pretty pouting red lips in close proximity to Ma- 
 rion's, he could do no less than put his arms around her, draw 
 her close to his breast, and press the lips to his own. 
 
 " There, dear Marion, that will do, and now I will go and 
 superintend the making-tea department, and you shall have a 
 supper such as I dare say you need." 
 
 Had Marion Monck and Bessy Nordheim really been brother 
 and sister, it is not probable that they would have exhibited a 
 stronger attachment for each other. The next day was Sunday. 
 Marion accompanied her to church, and almost every night he 
 went with her to some place of amusement, or called withh :r 
 upon some of her extremely limited circle of acquaintances. 
 Mr. Nordheim did not come to his home for a week, and during 
 his absence Marion had made himself completely at home, and
 
 VIGOR. 33 
 
 his attention to the duties of the store were from very early in 
 the morning until sometimes a late hour at night. Mr,, Wilson 
 the book-keeper had promoted him to copying letters, and to 
 making duplicates of letters and invoices. As Marion wrote a 
 neat mercantile hand, it was no great hardship. Marion also 
 found work at the dwelling house of Mr. Nordheim. That gen- 
 tleman was, as I have stated, an Israelite, and had inherited a 
 large property from his father, who had died about two years 
 previously at Amsterdam in Holland. When he discovered 
 that Marion could read and write Dutch, he was overjoyed, and 
 Marion for months worked several hours at night in copying 
 important papers in that language of a private nature for Mr. 
 Nordheim The latter bought a nice desk, and had it placed 
 in Marion's room. Frequently Mrs. Nordheim would sit and 
 chat with him, while hard at his work. She was as fascinating 
 in her conversation as she was beautiful and attractive in her 
 appearance, although she did not seem to be aware of it. Ma- 
 rion regarded her as a sister, and treated her as he would a 
 sister. He would catch her and draw her upon his knees, and 
 make perfectly free with her balmy mouth and lips. Some- 
 times if her magnificent hair had been carefully arranged, he 
 would pull out the combs and fastenings, throw it loose over 
 her, and comb it with the finger of one hand, while he contin- 
 ued writing with the other. Bessy would call him her teasing 
 brother, and then select one of her combs, would carefully 
 comb his hair, without preventing his writing. Did a thought 
 of wrong cross their minds ? No. She had been isolated 
 first in her aunt's boarding-house, and secondly in the cold 
 home of her husband. She placed Marion on the footing of a 
 brother. He had brought the first sunshine to her cheerless 
 home. She had something to pet, fondle and caress. She 
 never thought it wrong, never analyzed her feelings, and hard- 
 ly took the trouble to control or conceal them before Mr. Nord- 
 heim. Marion was in a new home he who had been petted 
 all his life, and Bessy was the only one who brought love and 
 home or home love, back again to his mind. He appeared 
 to regard her affectionate kindness and caresses as he would 
 those of his aunt or his mother. He was too young to dream 
 or think of love. Both were happy, for both were innocent in 
 thought or word as well as deed. 
 
 Mr. Nordheim was a man whose age must have been nearly 
 forty years. He was of small stature, with dark, piercing, 
 oriental sort of eyes, and a nose that clearly told his Hebrew 
 origin. He spoke English with great purity, and one could
 
 34 VIGOR. 
 
 hardly have imagined that Dutch had been the language of his 
 boyhoocj. He was short-sighted, and wore a pair of gold spec- 
 tacles. His habits were very irregular, although it was many 
 months before Marion discovered that he was one of the worst 
 of libertines, and that his frequent journeyings to other places 
 for business purposes, and also his frequent absence for the 
 same reasons, were not so. On the contrary he was off in the 
 country, or anywhere else where he could carry on his nume- 
 rous intrigues without discovery. As he was the principal 
 capitalist, his partner, Granville, if he knew Nordheiui's weak- 
 ness, did not notice it in any manner. 
 
 Marion Monck had not been in the counting-room of Gran- 
 ville and Nordheim over two months, before Mr. Wilson, the 
 bookkeeper, asked him how he was off for books 1 
 
 " Books ?" replied Marion. " I have no book, save one, and 
 that is a Dutch Bible which my mother placed in my trunk 
 when I left home." Mr. Wilson smiled. He probably re- 
 membered his own mother having made for him, when a boy, 
 (perhaps fifty years before this) a similar provision. " That is 
 a valuable book, no question of that," said Mr. Wilson, " but, 
 Master Marion, what I meant is this, is there any one you 
 know who is the possessor of books who will lend them to you to 
 read, otherwise you will have many an idle hour hang heavy 
 upon your hands." Marion said he knew no one who would 
 lend him books such as he desired. " Mr. Nordheim has 
 books at home." " Then I propose that you should at once 
 join the Mercantile Library Association. It was established 
 for merchants' clerks, and when once a member you will have 
 access to any book or paper that you need." Marion asked the 
 expense of joining, and when told that it was only the small 
 sum of two dollars per annum, agreed to go with Mr. Wilson 
 and be made a member that very night. The counting-room 
 was closed before six o'clock, and Marion did not go home, 
 but went to get his tea with Mr. Wilson, at Clark & Brown's 
 eating : house, in Maiden Lane, where Mr. Wilson, with many 
 other Englishmen, boarded, and took his meals when and 
 where he pleased. They each had a cup of tea and hot muf. 
 fins, and after these were despatched, they proceeded to Cliff 
 street, where the Mercantile Library Association occupied the 
 first floor of number eighty-two. It was then poor and in its 
 infancy. Not long after, it was removed to a building in 
 Beekmau street, Clinton Hall. Since then, it has been re- 
 moved to the old Opera House iu Astor Place. 
 
 But to return to the visit to the Mercantile Library Associ-
 
 VIGOR. 35 
 
 ation. Mr. Wilson introduced Marion to the Treasurer, Li- 
 brarian, and one or two of the Directors, and after he had paid 
 the fees, received a certiGcate of membership. " Is there any 
 particular book you desire ?" asked the Librarian. " Yes," 
 replied Marion, and he named a French work by Voltaire. It 
 was given him with a catalogue and the last report of the As- 
 sociation. As Mr. Wilson and Marion went out into the street, 
 Wilson remarked, " Wh}^, Marion, the book you selected is 
 printed in the French language. Do you understand it ?" 
 " Not a word," was the reply. " You may think it queer, Mr. 
 Wilson, but I will read that book before I return it. The fact 
 is, Mr. Wilson, I will read French, Spanish and German before 
 I am two years older. I understand Netherland Dutch now as 
 well as English. I will learn a language after my own method, 
 or rafhcr one taught me by Aunt, who taught me low Dutch." 
 
 " What is the method ?" enquired Wilson. 
 
 " In the first place, I can repeat the New Testament almost 
 word for word from beginning to end. I have read it so often, 
 and got so many lessons from it in former years to oblige a 
 verv excellent mother. You comprehend that part." 
 
 ""Very well." 
 
 " Within three days I have been to the Bible Society, and 
 they gave me for a trifling sum a New Testament in French. I 
 shall read that in French until I have it almost by heart. By 
 the time I am through, or before I have been at it a few hours, 
 I shall understand perhaps a thousand French words, and the 
 mode of placing them without having to refer to a French 
 Grammar or Dictionary." 
 
 " That is very clear," remarked Wilson. 
 
 " Now I shall get a dictionary and grammar, read the work 
 by Voltaire, and what words I cannot acquire rapidly in the 
 New Testament, I shall get out of the dictionary. It will not 
 be long before I have mastered the French, and the Spanish 
 and German will follow." 
 
 "But how will you learn the pronunciation of the lan- 
 guage ?" 
 
 " By placing myself where I can hear one or the other spoken 
 incessantly. But we are up to Broadway, and I must bid you 
 good-night, and hurry up to Bond street."
 
 VIGOR. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The Easiness Excursion of Mr. Nor dheim Birth-place of Clara Norris 
 Her Advent into New York. 
 
 IT has already been mentioned that Mr. Nordheim made fre- 
 quent excursions to neighboring cities. He gave out that 
 these frequent trips were for commercial purposes. His part- 
 ner, Mr. Granville, did not contradict such announcements, 
 and his family were unable to do so. 
 
 October had arrived, and Marion Mouck had been living at 
 the residence of Mr. Nordheim more than four months, when 
 the latter informed him that the next morning he should leave 
 for a distant State, and would not probably return for some 
 weeks. Mrs. Nordheim was in the parlor engaged upon some 
 embroidery when her husband made this business sort of an- 
 nouncement, and, as usual, she made no comment upon it. 
 Turning to his wife, he said, " Of course, my love, if you want 
 money, you can send word to the office by Marion in the usual 
 manner, and he will bring it up to you." This was said in a 
 very sarcastic manner, and a slight bend of the magniflccnt 
 head of the young wife was the only reply. Soon after he left 
 the house to go to Pat Reams', or some other equally well 
 known " Hell," or a worse place. 
 
 The carrying out of our story requires that the reader 
 should be carried out of New York, and taken to one of the 
 most northern counties of the state of New Jersey. It is 
 again evening, and only two days later than when Mr. Nord- 
 heira told Marion that he was to make a business excursion the 
 next morning. It was night, the tallow candles were lit, and 
 in the bar-room of a country inn in Sussex county was the 
 well-dressed Nordheim. Several rough-looking countrymen 
 were loitering about the bar-room, and two were engaged in 
 playing dominoes at a pine table in the corner of the room. A 
 young and rather pretty girl was behind the bar, waiting upon 
 such customers as required a glass of cider, or the more potent 
 cider brandy. Mr. Nordheim was smoking a cigar, and seated 
 near the fire place, in which a wood fire was burning, for the 
 weather in October in a village two thousand feet above tho
 
 VIGOR. 37 
 
 level of the sea was intensely cold. The girl was evidently 
 about fifteen years of age, but fully developed. Every now 
 and then she cast an anxious glance towards Mr. Nordheim, 
 and as his eyes caught her own, she would suddenly drop 
 them and blush, scarcely conscious why. Mr. Nordheim was 
 evidently an object of curiosity to her, and the contrast be- 
 tween his elegance and the rough customers in the room made 
 her wonder what his business could be there. Presently an- 
 other person entered the room, and as he stepped into the 
 bar he said, sternly, " Susan, go into the kitchen and help 
 your mother get supper." 
 
 " Have you ordered a fire in my room ?" demanded Mr. 
 Nordheim of the new comer, who was evidently the landlord. 
 
 " I have just finished making it myself, and your supper 
 will be ready presently," was the reply. 
 
 "Thank you," was the reply of Nordheim. and he continued 
 to puff away at his cigar. Soon after Mr. Nordheim obtained 
 supper and then retired to his room. He found a good fire 
 blazing upon the hearth, and almost at once the girl called 
 Susan made her appearance with a candle, which she placed 
 upon the table. 
 
 " Any thing else, sir ?" she asked. 
 
 " No, my dear stay, yes there is T want to ask you a 
 few questions. Are you acquainted with a young lady in this 
 neighborhood whose name is Clara Norris ? &it down, Su- 
 san." 
 
 Susan took a seat before she replied, in a very low tone of 
 voice, " Oh, yes, sir ; I know her very well." 
 
 " Indeed. Here, Susan, is a little something to spend when 
 I am gone." He placed in her hands half a dollar, patted her 
 cheeks pleasantly " and now tell me all about Clara. Is she 
 very beautiful ? is she as pretty as you are ?'' 
 
 Susan simpered and replied, " Oh, yes ; a thousand times 
 prettier. Every body calls her the Sussex Lily, and indeed, 
 sir, she is the sweetest girl in this region." 
 
 " How old is Clara, should you think ?" asked Mr Nord- 
 heim. 
 
 " I know precisely. She is just one month younger than 
 me, and I shall be fifteen next month. Do you know her, 
 sir ?" and Susan paused to hear the answer. 
 
 " No, not exactly, that is to say, I have not yet seen her. I 
 became acquainted with her father last summer, and I have 
 heard him speak of Clara so frequently that I was almost 
 tempted to say I know her, but I do not."
 
 38 VIGOR. 
 
 " Oh, she is a charming girl. You will like her very much. 
 She is not at all like me. Her hair is light auburn, and very 
 long, and when she wears it in ringlets it is pretty. She has a 
 beautiful figure, and her cheeks are as red as roses, and her 
 skin is as white as snow." 
 
 " Why, Susan, you are quite eloquent in your description," 
 said Mr. Nordheim, and he continued, "Is Miss Clara com- 
 fortable in her home ?" 
 
 " Oh, no indeed, sir. Her father is a drunkard, and her 
 mother is not much better in fact worse, some say, but I 
 don't know any thing about it. I see poor Clara every Sunday 
 at church, and she looks very unhappy, I don't know how she 
 stands it. I wouldn't. If my father licked me as her'u does 
 her, I'd run off and go to York, but I must go and help get 
 supper for the other boarders." 
 
 " Stay one moment, Susan,'' and as the girl stopped he slid 
 his arm around her and gave her a long kiss upon her mouth. 
 " Oh, don't, sir what will " but a half dozen kisses in suc- 
 cession stifled her voice, and when Mr. Nordheim placed in 
 her hand another silver half dollar, Susan wiped her mouth, 
 smoothed her ruffled hair, and promised Mr. Nordheim that 
 she would come back as soon as supper was over to see if he 
 wanted any thing. Any of her country beaux might have fid- 
 dled around Susan six months before her lips would have given 
 one kiss. Girls like the man, be he old or young, that impu- 
 dently takes what he wants without trifling or beating around 
 the bush. She had left the room but an instant when her 
 father made his appearance. " Well, Van Ness, what is it ?" 
 asked Nordheim. 
 
 " Did you send a message by the stage-driver to old Bill 
 Norris, up the road, that you wished to see him ?" 
 
 " I did. Has he come ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. He is down in the bar-room." 
 
 " Van Ness, have you any really good liquor, any wine fit to 
 drink ? That cider brandy is vile stuff." 
 
 " Yes, sir, as good as any gentleman need have, I don't care 
 who or what he is. I have got the best French brandy, but it 
 comes at two dollars the bottle." 
 
 " Bring it along if it was five dollars, and here, by the way, 
 is a five dollar gold piece, and if you have a bottle of cham- 
 pagne, bring that up also, and never mind the change. Old 
 Norris may prefer some other drink besides brandy or wine." 
 
 " Not he, sir. He will never leave this room as long as 
 there is another drop of that French brandy in the bottle."
 
 VIGOR. 39 
 
 *' Show him up at once, and then put some more wood on the 
 fire." 
 
 A few moments more and the heavy boots of Bill Norris ap- 
 proached the door. " Come in," exclaimed Nordheim, and 
 the old drunkard entered. " Take a seat, Norris. I am glad 
 to see you. I told you at Dover last summer I would couie 
 and see you before Christinas day." 
 
 " So you have. I like to see a man who sticks to his word. 
 It looks like business." 
 
 " True, Mr. Norris : but here is some liquor I have ordered. 
 It is no use talking with dry tongues. Here is champagne, 
 and here is French brandy. Which will you try ?" 
 
 " Oh, give me the brandy. I don't want any new fangled 
 stuff down my throat," and he helped himself to a stiff glass of 
 raw brandy, and drank it off at a gulp. It did not even make 
 the old toper wink. " Prime !" he exclaimed. " Now I will 
 take another with a little water into it," and he helped him- 
 self while Mr Nordheim knocked off the neck of the bottle of 
 champagne, and as he poured it foaming into the glass tumbler 
 he said, " Now, Norris, I want you to drink with me to the 
 health of that young girl we talked so much about at Dover. 
 Here is Clara's health." Old Bill Norris again emptied his 
 glass and took a seat, and turning his face full upon Mr. Nord- 
 heim, said, " So, so, mister, yer hain't got off that notion, eh ?" 
 
 " No, indeed ; the more I hear of her the more anxious am I 
 to come to some understanding with you in regard to her fu- 
 ture welfare. Where is she now ?" 
 
 " At hum, or was there half an hour ago." 
 
 " Bill, can any one overhear our conversation?" 
 
 " No, I reckon not." Bill opened the door and looked into 
 the entry to see that the coast was clear. 
 
 " When you see my darter, if as how you likes her, and she 
 takes a kind of liking to you, what do you intend to do with 
 her ? Do ye mean to marry her 1 That's the pint." 
 
 " Mr. Norris, we will talk of that presently, meanwhile, I 
 want to enquire kindly of you whether five hundred dollars, if 
 given to you by some kind friend, would really be of any ser- 
 vice to you ?" remarked Mr. Nordheim in a whhper. 
 
 " What ? Just say that over again," and Bill was on his 
 feet. 
 
 " Keep perfectly calm, Mr. Norris. I have five hundred 
 dollars that I can get by driving up to the Sussex Bank after 
 nine o'clock to-morrow morning, and I could give it to you 
 without feeling the loss."
 
 40 VIGOR. 
 
 " Five hundred dollars. Sussex Bank bills ! and" 
 
 " Stop one moment more. I am anxious to do that for you 
 to-morrow. I am anxious to do more than that for Clara, if 
 you aid me in the matter. I want to take her away from here, 
 however, and you will lose her services. Of course I expect 
 to pay you for that loss." 
 
 " That's fair. Five hundred dollars. . Of course I'll let her 
 go for that. She will never bring me any thing like that. 
 Five hundred dollars ! Whew ! What a sum. Why, it will 
 buy a good sized house and farm, won't it? But you hain't 
 told me one thing. What do you want, to do with the girl ? 
 Marry her ?" 
 
 " Mr. Norris, you know it would be imprudent to do so now. 
 What I may do when I have sent her to school, I cannot tell. 
 I shall take her to New York, place her with a rich aunt, and 
 she will be taken good care of. What can I do more ?" 
 
 " That is all on the square. I don't see what you can do 
 fairer, Mister. What am I to do ?" 
 
 " Go home very soon. Talk the matter over quietly to 
 your wife. Get her consent. In the morning I will be up at 
 your house, and have a talk with Clara, if she consents to go 
 with me, and the matter is fairly understood among you. She 
 goes to Dover in the stage with me to-morrow evening, and I 
 will hand you and your wife five hundred dollars before we 
 leave." 
 
 " It's a bargain. Shake hands upon it. You are a gentle- 
 man, and do up your business brown. I will go now." 
 
 " Take some more brandy." 
 
 " Not a drop," and Mr. Norris left he was really sober ; 
 the five hundred dollar proposition had fairly neutralized the 
 effects of the strong potions of alcohol which he had drank. 
 
 He had hardly got down stairs before a light step came up 
 them, and Susan came in, shutting the door behind her. " I 
 came up to see if you needed any thing," she observed. 
 
 " Yes, Susv, come here," and he pulled her towards him. 
 
 " Don't don't I" 
 
 " All I want, Susy, is to hear more about your friend Clara. 
 Kiss me, now, and then tell me, has she any beaux?" 
 
 " You kiss me so hard I don't like it. No ; Clara hasn't got 
 any fellows. She is too proud for that. None up here are 
 good enough for her." 
 
 " Indeed. I am glad to hear that," here Susan began to 
 squirm in a very uneasy manner, for Mr. Nordheim was re- 
 sorting to all sorts of means to stir up the young girl's passions,
 
 VIGOR. 41 
 
 and probably he would have succeeded had not Susan said, 
 " If you are so anxious about Clara, what do you want to fool 
 with me for 1" It was enough. " I was wrong. Now kiss 
 me, to show that you are not angry." Susan complied, and lie 
 led her to the door. She had escaped that time, but the poor 
 chirping bird was marked for a shot, and only got away be- 
 cause a beautiful quail was to be looked after. 
 
 When Mr. Nordheim was alone, he lit another cigar and 
 then went down to the bar-room. Bill Norris had gone. The 
 room was crowded. Mr. Nordheim had an object it was to 
 make popularity. Time after time did he treat every man in 
 the room until all but himself were drunk roaring country 
 drunk, and then he went to bed. How little his elegant wife 
 dreamed of the nature of her husband's commercial negotia- 
 tions ! 
 
 The next day opened bright and beautiful. It was much 
 warmer, and Mr. Nordheim rose early. He had ordered a 
 horse and buggy to be ready for his use immediately after 
 breakfast. It came as he had drank his last cup of coffee. He 
 settled his bill, paid for a day's use of the horse and buggy, 
 observing that he might not return. The carpet bag was 
 placed in the buggy, and after a few enquiries as to his route 
 to the house of Mr. Norris, he bade his host " good morning." 
 and started on the main road. He had to drive a distance of 
 two miles. He occasionally stopped to gaze on the woods and 
 the water. The forests were covered with colors as varie- 
 gated as the rainbow, and he passed two long sheets of water 
 that he could not but stop to admire. Between the two first 
 lakes stood a cottage embowered in a grove of large drooping 
 willows, and^not far off was a long row of poplars. He en- 
 quired what place that was. " Poplar Farm,' 1 was the reply, 
 and he drove on. He had nearly reached the head of the sec- 
 ond lake, and was coming in sight of the third, when he no- 
 ticed a log-cabin that seemed hardly capable of holding up it- 
 self. It was large, but every thing about the spot looked 
 poverty-struck and desolate. He was passing on by it when 
 out started a man that he recognized as Bill Norris. 
 
 " Hallo. What, you was a-going by, eh ? That won't do." 
 " Have you a place to put my horse, Norris ?" 
 " Yes ; I got a little snuggery down under the hill. Drive 
 around the road a little way, and I will come and help you un- 
 hitch." 
 Mr. Nordheim complied, and when the horce was put in
 
 42 VIGOR. 
 
 the miserable apology for a stall, Nordheim asked if the moth- 
 er had been spoken with. 
 
 " Yes ; and she is willin'. She thinks it the best thing that 
 can be done." 
 
 " And Clara does she know any thing of what is pro- 
 posed ?" said Nordheim, anxiously. 
 
 " I rather think the old woman had something to say to her 
 about it, but I don't know. Women folks can't keep a secret, 
 you understand." 
 
 Nordheim felt relieved. Half his work was done. The two 
 now reached the log-cabin. Norris entered first, but no sooner 
 had Nordheim followed over the door-sill than he actually 
 started back with astonishment. Never had his eyes been 
 placed upon such a vision of female loveliness. He could not 
 speak. She was dressed in rags, but there was a form, a com- 
 plexion, a skin that rags could not hide. She had been trying 
 to do up her splendid hair, but lacking combs and material, it 
 had fallen like a golden cloud over her shoulders and reached 
 nearly to her knees. Nordheim jumped towards her, took her 
 hand, and observed, " This is Clara. I need no more of an 
 introduction don't be scared on my account," and then, with 
 the grace of a man of the world, he placed all at their ease by 
 talking of their future. There was a little boy and a little 
 girl, brother and sister of Clara. To one he gave a pearl- 
 handled knife, and to the other a gold pencil-case. " Now 
 then, Mrs. Norris, I am going to dine with you, and here is 
 some money to buy any article you need. I suppose Mr. Nor- 
 ris will go and get it for you." She took the money. "Miss 
 Clara, as I was riding up, I could not help admiring the mountain 
 in front of us. There must be a beautiful view of the lake 
 from the top of it. Suppose you accompany me, and point out 
 all that is to be seen," requested Mr. Nordheim, kindly. 
 
 " Get your bonnet and go with the gentleman," came from 
 the mother's mouth. 
 
 " I am in no hurry," observed Nordheim. " Take your own 
 time, Clara." This he said so kindly that the poor girl burst 
 into tears. A few moments after he was following her up the 
 Bide of the mountain. " Clara," called Mr. Nordheim. She 
 stopped, and he took her hand in his own. " Don't let us go 
 too far and get tired. Here seems to be a nice quiet place, 
 where we can take a seat and talk over certain matters." 
 Clara seated herself by his side. He still kept her hand. 
 " Clara, will you answer me a few questions honestly and 
 truly 1"
 
 VIGOR. 43 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " Are you happy here ? Do your parents treat yon kindly ?" 
 
 No I am miserable, and they treat me horribly." 
 
 " Would you like to leave here ?" he asked, kindly. 
 
 " With all my heart ! But my poor parents !" 
 
 " Clara, suppose I say that I will give your parents the sum 
 of $500 to-night, to make them comfortable. Will you then 
 place yourself under my charge ?" 
 
 " Will I ? Try me. But what am I to do ?" 
 
 " This is all, Clara, if you will make me your husband to- 
 nightthat is, you will treat me in every way as if I were 
 your husband." 
 
 " But will you marry me to-night ?" said the girl, who was 
 covered with blushes. " Speak plain," she continued. " I 
 know what you mean. You will not marry me, but you wish 
 me to become your mistress ; you have money, and you would 
 buy me ! Now repeat the offer," said Clara, determinedly. 
 
 " Yes, Clara, that is it. I will take you from here to New 
 York as speedily as possible. To-morrow morning we will 
 start. Then I will get you handsome clothes ! will procure 
 you a home I will get you teachers, and I will make a lady 
 of you." 
 
 Clara smiled, and said, " Listen to me, Mr. Nordheim. 
 There is no need of words. I am a decided girl. I am as 
 pure as ice but I can't lead such a life. I want to see my 
 lather comfortable. Do what you said, and the next night I 
 will return to my wretched room, remain in your arms until 
 morning, provided you then hurry me off to New York. If 
 you do what you promise then, you will have a mistress that 
 will be true to you till death. If you deceive me, or do not 
 make good your promises, woe be on your head ! Now let us 
 return to our humble home." 
 
 " Stay a moment, Clara. If you are anxious to go, why not 
 start to-day ?'" 
 
 " No I will not move until I see my mother and father in 
 possession of the price you have agreed to pay for me." 
 
 " And then " 
 
 " I am yours, body and soul, and I do not care what you do 
 with me." 
 
 " I have the money ready. See, here it is, in Sussex Bank 
 bills. Count it." 
 
 He handed her the money. Clara did count it, and then 
 glowly drawing her hand across her face, she asked, 
 . " And when you give that to niy parents "
 
 44 VIGOR. 
 
 " Then, Clara, I expect you to regard yourself as mino. Wo 
 will stay here to-night, or we will go to Dover, just as you 
 decide. Now shall we return home ?" 
 
 " Be it as you wish I have no choice," said Clara, mourn- 
 fully. 
 
 Nordheim attempted to kiss her lips. 
 
 " No, no," she exclaimed, while pushing him aside. " Not 
 now. Pay the sum to my parents, and then I ain yours alto- 
 gether." 
 
 Not a word was spoken until they reached the log house. 
 Clara took a seat. 
 
 " Well ?" said the father. 
 
 " Everything is pleasantly arranged, and Clara and myself 
 have decided to leave for New York city either to-night or to- 
 morrow morning. But I have something for you." 
 
 He took out of his pocket-book a roll of bills, and laid it 
 upon the table. Clara jumped up and seized the money. She 
 selected from the roll five fifty dollar bills, and placed them in 
 one pile. " Father, take the money ;" and then an equal 
 amount she handed to her other parent, adding, " Mother, take 
 this. God bless you both !" 
 
 They each took the money. Then she kissed her mother, and 
 afterwards her father, crying as if .her heart were broken. 
 When she had found voice, she said, " Now you have money, 
 spend it wisely. Father, don't drink any more ; and whon you 
 think of doing it, think of poor me, and perhaps at what an 
 awful cost I earned the money." Then turning to Mr. Nord- 
 heim, she added, almost hysterically, " Come sir, you have not 
 yet decided whether you will stay here to-night or go to Dover. 
 Follow me, and I will show you my delightful bed-room. Up 
 this ladder." 
 
 She was followed up by the exquisite New Yorker in aston- 
 ishment. As he reached the fluor of the open garret, he ex- 
 claimed, " Why, Clara, where do you sleep ?" 
 
 " There, she exclaimed, pointing to a pile of rags in a cor- 
 ner of the garret ; and she ran towards it, and loosing her hair 
 so as almost to cover her entire figure, she flung herself upon 
 the rags, and said, " Well, what do you think now ? This must 
 be our bridal bed if you stay here to-night. My parents have 
 no other." 
 
 He went to her, calmed her excitement, and kindly coaxed 
 her to descend the stairs. " We will start for Dover in a few 
 minutes. Fix up Clara the best you can," said he kindly to 
 her mother.
 
 VIGOR. 45 
 
 Clara did not cry any more. She spoke kindly to her mo- 
 ther, and helped her to spread the table with a few eatables. 
 An hour later she took her seat in the buggy beside Mr. Nord- 
 heim. That same evening they reached Dover, after a few 
 hours' drive. They were just in time to catch the mail stage 
 for New York via Newark. The next night at about ten 
 o'clock the two reached a private house in the upper part of 
 the city, where Mr. Nordheim seemed to be perfectly at home. 
 
 Such was one of the business transactions of Mr. Nordheim. 
 It was the opening history of a beautiful girl, who in after 
 years made a sensation as the haughtiest as well as most mag- 
 nificent courtezan that ever walked the streets of New York. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The first year over Dinner at Mr. Grnnville's The Family of Kir. 
 Granville Col. Mac Neil. 
 
 LIFE in a counting-room during the period of junior clerk 
 ship is without much of interest, The routine is about the 
 same from day to day. A year had now elapsed since Marion 
 arrived in New York, and he had become quite expert in his 
 clerical duties. He was a favorite with Mr. Granville, he con- 
 tinued to reside at the residence of Mr. Nordheim, in Bond 
 street, and oftentimes was of great service to that partner. 
 Young Monck was a hard student, and rarely retired to bed 
 before twelve o'clock at night. He could read French well, 
 and availed himself of every opportunity of speaking it. This 
 was the more easy, as the business of Granville and Nordhcim 
 was principally a foreign commission business. They received 
 consignments of vessels and cargoes from many ports in the 
 Mediterranean, and wine and assorted cargoes from Cette and 
 Marseilles were regular. By such means Marion became ac- 
 quainted with French captains and French passengers that 
 brought letters of introduction to the firm, and he used to show 
 them the hospitalities of the city. His progress in pronounc- 
 ing French was extremely rapid from these facilities, so that 
 at the expiration of his first year in New York he was a fair 
 French scholar. The foundation was laid, and by practice he 
 improved until he could write, read or speak French equal to 
 a Frenchman. Mrs. Nordheim was his fellow student in French, 
 and her progress was equally rapid with Marion ; for Mr. Nori
 
 46 VIGOR. 
 
 heim spoke French well, and when she expressed a wish to 
 that effect, he would converse with her in that language. Fre- 
 quently Marion would take part in their conversation. 
 
 It was a very curious fact, that for some months Mr. Nord- 
 heim had not found occasion to be absent from the city, and 
 he was much more kind and sociable at his home than before 
 M:irion came there. He was absent almost every night, but no 
 curiosity was ever expressed by his wife or Marion as to the 
 cause of such absence. 
 
 Marion had had very few opportunities of knowing much of 
 Mr. Granville or his family. The intercourse between them 
 was only at the counting-house ; and although Mr. Granville 
 appeared to be pleased with the attention which Marion showed 
 to his business, yet he rarely noticed him save to give orders 
 or instructions. Marion had observed to Mr. Nordheim that 
 Mr. Granville did not seem to be aware that he was in. exist- 
 ence, save in the office. 
 
 " Never mind, Marion," was the reply. " An old merchant 
 like Mr. Granville does not waste much time on the youngest 
 clerk in his employ. Wait." 
 
 He took his advice. Precisely one year from the day he 
 entered the office, Mr. Granville in the morning called him 
 into his private office, and somewhat, abruptly remarked, . 
 
 " It is a year that you have been with me." 
 
 Marion was astonished. He could not conceive that the 
 haughty merchant by any means should stop -to remember such 
 a fact. He did not know the man and he replied " Yes sir." 
 
 " Then to-morrow your salary will begin at three hundred 
 dollars." 
 
 Marion bowed and added, " I have not drawn my salary of 
 two hundred and fifty dollars. There is nearly one hundred 
 and fifty dollars due me now." 
 
 " How is that 1" 
 
 " I have been living with Mr. Nordheim, and he has not 
 said anything to me about what he should charge, and I did 
 not think it would be right to draw under such circumstances." 
 
 " Go and call in Mr. Wilson." 
 
 It was done. 
 
 " Wilson, fill up a check and bring it to me to sign for the 
 balance due on this young man's salary up to date. In the 
 coming year itwill be three hundred dollars. Now, Mr. Monck, 
 I have nothing to do with my partner taking you to his house. 
 I understand that you speak and write low Dutch, and he has 
 made you useful to him to a greater amount than any board he
 
 VIGOR. 47 
 
 would charge; Make your mind easy on that score. He will 
 make no charge against you or if he does, give the account to 
 me, and I will pay it out of my own pocket." 
 
 By this time Mr. Wilson had brought the check. It was for 
 one hundred and sixty-five dollars, and Mr. Granville signed 
 it. As he handed it to Marion, he laughingly saul, " You will 
 be quite rich. What will you do with so much money, eh?" 
 
 " Send it to my parents, sir," replied Marion. 
 
 " Very right and proper ; and now, sir, will you do me the 
 favor to come and dine with me to-day at five o'clock ? I wish 
 to make you acquainted with my family ; nnd you will meet at 
 my table one or more of my friends worth knowing. You know 
 where my residence is, I suppose ; and be before the hour ra- 
 ther than later, whenever you are invited out to dine." 
 
 " 1 shall be pleased to dine with you sir, and will not be 
 later than the hour." 
 
 Before we present Marion at this dinner with his senior em- 
 ployer, it will be interesting to the reader to learn something 
 of Mr. Granville. William Pitt Granville was the grandson 
 of a man who was once speaker of the English House of Com- 
 mons. He had been educated commercially in one of those 
 extensive commercial firms in England, whose business con- 
 nection extended over the world. The firm had sent Mr. Gran- 
 ville to New York to attend to some special business, and his 
 keen eye saw an opening in New York ; and he wrote home to 
 that effect. The London firm of Prcscott, Grote & Co. had a 
 correspondent named Nordheim, who had a son that he was 
 anxious to place in business in some American port. The 
 London firm saw that they could benefit these parties, besides 
 their own firm, and the result was that old Nordheim agreed 
 to put $50,000 in cash in the firm for his son, and young Nord- 
 heim in less than six months became the partner of Mr. Gran- 
 ville. Mr. Granville was the business man. His energy 
 was unceasing. Connexions and agencies were made in every 
 part of Europe ; and what with Mr. Nordheim's cash capital, 
 and the facilities extended by the Loo don firm and the. elder 
 Nordheim, business rolled in upon the New York' firm from 
 every quarter, and their profits in a short time were more than 
 double their original capital. 
 
 Mr. Nordheim, as we have before observed, was not much 
 of a business man, and Mr. Granville persuaded him to go to 
 Charleston, S. C., to procure shipments of rice and cotton to 
 New York and to his father's house in Amsterdam. As he 
 had money to advance on all such shipments, he was very sue-
 
 48 VIGOR. 
 
 cessful in procuring them, and Ins sojourn in Charleston was 
 of great benefit to all parties. It was while residing at Charles- 
 ton that he became fascinated with Elizabeth Ferguson, and 
 married her, as has been detailed in a former chapter. 
 
 To return to Mr. Granville. He was English in his appear- 
 ance, habits, mode of thinking, and in every other way. He 
 believed that this was a great country to make money in, but 
 that England was the only country worth belonging to ; and he 
 never would take out papers to become an American citizen 
 "British I was born, and a Briton I will die," was a favorite 
 expression. He was six feet in height, and well-proportioned. 
 His forehead was very high, and his head almost bald, lie 
 was fifty years of age when Marion joined him. His nose was 
 curved like the beak of an eagle, and he felt much flattered 
 when told that this feature very much resembled that of the 
 great Duke of Wellington. It was true, too. He had mar- 
 ried in England, and brought over with him, when he decided 
 to remove to America, a wife and two children, the one a girl 
 named Isabella, and the other a boy named Walter. His resi- 
 dence was in a house which is still standing in State street, 
 fronting the Battery. At that time it was the residence of 
 some of the most prominent merchants that New York has pro- 
 duced. It was a venerable double house, painted yellow, with 
 a door in the centre, and an old-fashioned stoop supported by 
 two wooden pillars, with red stone steps on each side, leading 
 up to the doorway. It had a large, spacious hall, four times 
 the size of a hall in a modern house. On the right was a large 
 reception room, or parlor, and on the left was another of equal 
 dimensions. In the rear of the hall was a dining-room, with 
 large bay windows, extending nearly the width of the house, 
 and overlooking a large yard, which was filled with plants and 
 shrubbery of every description. The view from the front par- 
 lors, or from any room in the front .part of the house, was mag- 
 nificent beyond comparison. The windows overlooked the 
 Battery and the bay, and the view in the summer season was 
 unsurpassed in the world. There was nothing to equal it in 
 New York. Mr. Granville had good taste. 
 
 Besides his wife and children, Mr. Granville had a younger 
 brother residing in the old English mansion. This brother 
 Thomas was as eccentric a being as ever drew breath ; and we 
 shall have much more to say of him as our story progresses. 
 
 Mrs. Granville and Thomas were the only persons in the din- 
 ing-room when Marion arrived. It was to them that Mr. Gran- 
 ville introduced Mr. Monck.
 
 VIGOR. 49 
 
 Mrs. Granville appeared to bo about forty years of age. She 
 was very small in size, and extremely pale. She looked as 
 though a good strong gust of wind from the Battery would 
 blow her away. She put out her hand to Marion, and kindly 
 greeted him, saying, 
 
 " I have heard of you often from my husband, and expected 
 you would have visited us before this ; I am glad to see you 
 now, and I trust you will come and see us as often as you have 
 leisure." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Granville, her days were numbered ! Marion 
 soon learned that her seclusion arose from the fact that she 
 was dying of consumption. 
 
 " I shall be most happy to continue the acquaintance, be- 
 lieve me, Mrs. Granville ; for I know very few families in the 
 city." 
 
 " Here comes Isa my daughter, this is Marion Monck." 
 
 And a beautiful girl sprang forward and gave her hand to 
 Marion. 
 
 " 0, I have seen Marion a hundred times when I have skip- 
 ped in and out of the office, but I am so glad Pa has brought 
 him here. I am sure we shull be excellent friends." 
 
 A moment after Walter, the son came in. He was a hand- 
 some lad, of about Marion's ago, but extremely reserved. He 
 had already become acquainted with Marion, having seen him 
 many times at the office. A gentleman came in just before the 
 family rose to go to the dining-room. Mr. Granville introduced 
 him to Marion as " Col. Mac Neil, a very old and valued friend." 
 
 The Colonel in a very gentlemanly manner expressed great 
 gratification at meeting Marion. Soon after the party that had 
 assembled in the parlor adjourned to the large dining-room. 
 Covers were placed for seven, and when all had taken their 
 seats a dinner was served in a very simple manner, and Ma- 
 rion felt completely at his ease. His seat was directly oppo- 
 site to Isabella Granville, and before he had received a dozen 
 of her laughing glance's, poor Marion began to feel that he was 
 getting in love. 
 
 " Bell," as her Pa called her, was a sweet little creature, 
 very girlish in form and figure. Her eyes were black, and she 
 had a profusion of soft black hair, which was partly taken up 
 on the back of her head, and the front portion was arranged in 
 curls. Her moulh was small and pretty. She was ready to 
 fall in love with anybody that there was a spark of romance 
 about. Although only fourteen, she had had two lovers since 
 she was twelve. One was a West Point cadet, and the other
 
 50 VIGOR. 
 
 an unfledged midshipman ; but her father, kind and gentle as 
 he appeared, was a stern, despotic man in his own house, and 
 most fully imbued with the English ideas of 'marriage. Ho 
 considered children as merely a means of extending " connec- 
 tions," and deemed it his duty to select a suitable husband for 
 his daughter, and a proper match for his son, \vhere settle- 
 ments could be made on both sides. He detested cadets and 
 midshipmen, lawyers, doctors and clergymen. He had his 
 own views for " Bell." Mr. Granville was a merchant, in the 
 true meaning of the word, and he looked upon every man out- 
 side of the commercial profession as not belonging to his world, 
 and as a nobody. He believed in the English nobility, noble 
 blood, and all that sort of thing. He also thought that there 
 might be a nobility in the United States ; but if there was any, 
 that no class could justly lay claim to it except the commer- 
 cial class. A great merchant was an object of profound re- 
 spect : the President of the United States he regarded as the 
 principal Custom House officer in the nation, and he had a 
 contempt for all Government officers, high or low. Ho deem- 
 ed them a pack of useless suckers. There was one class of 
 the world that he respected next to merchants they were ac- 
 tresses and actors. A celebrated English actress was a Mrs. 
 Grranville, a century ago. He was descended from her. This 
 was the clue to the secret, that fhere was no actor or actress, 
 from Kean the elder to Vandenhoff, and Ellen Tree to Mrs. 
 Wilson and Miss Sheriff, that he did not invite to his house. 
 James and Henry Wallack were his intimate friends. Hackett 
 found a banker in him when he needed one. In a word, no 
 actor or actress came to this country from England without a 
 letter of introduction to Mr. Granville. That was his weak- 
 ness, if he had any. 
 
 When the ladies retired from the dinner table Walter Gran- 
 ville went with them, and the conversation continued until a 
 late hour. Marion was delighted. Mr. Granville treated him 
 as if he had been the richest merchant in the city, conversed 
 with him, drew him out, made him at his ease, and yet not one 
 word was said about the store, his own position, or business. 
 The shop was sunk in the house of Mr. Granville. It was 
 nearly ten o'clock when Marion took his leave, and when he 
 reached Bond street Mrs. Nordheim made him tell her all the 
 events of the dinner, and particularly all that Colonel Mac Neil 
 had said. But Colonel Mac Neil is is too important a person 
 to bring in at the close of a chapter.
 
 VIGOR. 51 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 t 
 
 Colonel William Mac Neil Duel of Mr. Graham and Colonel Barton. 
 
 " BESSY, pray tell me something about Colonel Mac Neil, 
 whom I met at the dinner at Mr. Granville's yesterday," ex- 
 claimed Marion, at their early breakfast next morning to Mrs. 
 Nordheim. " I am sure you know something of his previous 
 history." 
 
 " Not so much, perhaps, as you may imagine. What I do 
 know, I obtained from Mr. Nordheim. The fact is, the Colo- 
 nel is a very gallant man, and regards himself as quite a lady- 
 killer. He made love to me before I had been in New York 
 three weeks. I rather astonished him by repeating some of 
 his love speeches before him at dinner, when Mr. Nordheim 
 was present. The gallant Colonel did not make any more 
 sweet speeches to me, I can assure you. Mr. Nordheim was 
 excessively pleased with my tact, as he called it, and in grati- 
 tude, I suppose, for its display, told me somewhat of my gal- 
 lant gentleman's antecedents. The Colonel is Scotch, and of 
 a very good family. He must have been born somewhere 
 about the year 1800, and I have heard him say he was only 
 fourteen years old when his father, who commanded a regi- 
 ment of Highlanders at Waterloo, was slain. The young Mac 
 afterwards emigrated to Canada with his mother, who married 
 a second husband, and ten years ago came to this city. He 
 was about twenty-one years of age, and had about ten thou- 
 sand pounds Sterling in money. By Mr. Granville's advice 
 he formed a partnership here and went into the wine business 
 with a Mr. Gillespie, who had no capital but great experience. 
 Colonel Mac Neil is a dashing, fashionable man about town. 
 He goes into the best society, boards at the City Hotel, is a 
 manager at the City Assembly balls, and, though he has made 
 some seductions, and one of his victims he keeps as a mistress 
 in very good style, and has had two children by her, yet he is 
 well received wherever he goes, and he is engaged to be mar- 
 ried to the wealthy and accomplished Miss Grasper." 
 
 "if he spends money in so princely a manner, I should think 
 he would need to marry an heiress unless his business is a 
 source of great profit," remarked Marion.
 
 52 VIGOR. 
 
 " Mr. Nordheim says unless the Colonel marries money, 
 that his high flown game will soon be up, that he gambles tre- 
 mendously at Washington Hall every night. He is a good 
 hand at cards, I dare say, and it may be that his luck and skill 
 as a gambler is the secret of his having so much money to 
 carry on the war with. You know what a noise he made some 
 years ago as the second in a duel." 
 
 " No ; I do not. Never heard of it." 
 
 " It was a sad affair. By the way, Marion, I do not wish to 
 prejudice you against Colonel Mac Neil. He is a great friend 
 of both Mr. Granville and of my husband. He is a perfect 
 man of the world, and when you are a few years older, it will 
 be in his power to be of great service to you. I recommend 
 you to cultivate an intimacy with him, and receive any advan- 
 ces of a friendly nature on his part with cordiality." 
 
 " Thank you. I will not forget your advice. Bat about the 
 duel ?" asked Marion. 
 
 " I had nearly forgot it. A Mr. Graham, connected with 
 the Daily Courier, bad some difficulty with Mr. Barton, who 
 is more famous as the husband of Cora Livingston, a daughter 
 of the great Edward Livingston, than any other act of his life. 
 It led to a demand for satisfaction on the part of Barton. 
 Graham accepted the challenge. Barton, who was intimate 
 with Col. Mac Neil, requested him to act as his second. The 
 principals met, and Mac Neil's advice to Barton saved his life 
 and killed Graham." 
 
 " What was the advice ? " 
 
 "Don't aim, Barton, but raise your pistol to a dead level 
 with your stomach, and fire at the word." 
 
 " Mac Neil must be a very cool sort of person on such occa- 
 sions ? " 
 
 " It is much easier for the seconds to be cool than it is for 
 the principals, I should suppose. ,This affair, and the noise 
 about it, made Mac Neil quite a hero among the girls and all 
 the young bloods about town, if they get into a quarrel when 
 drunk, go to consult Mac Neil about their honor when they are 
 sober. Kep on the right side of Colonel Mac Neil, Marion. I 
 feel that he will be of use to you some day. I did think that 
 Mr. Granville had an idea in his head to marry pretty Isa to 
 Mac Neil. I don't think so now. Why, Marion, how you 
 wince." 
 
 "I nonsense! What difference would it make to me? 
 But why would not Mr. Granville marry Bell to Mac ? " 
 
 " Because Mac is getting on too fast for Mr. Granville. He
 
 VIGOR. 5(5 
 
 'wants Bell to marry a man who has got money and a steady 
 business. Don't you begin life by falling in love with that lit- 
 tle face. She is the most arrant little coquette in existence, 
 and don't know her own mind ten minutes. Or if you do 
 choose to get up a flirtation with her, don't make it serious, 
 for she will marry^ at ten minutes' notice, any man ' Pa ' 
 chooses, and he will not choose you. Another prudent reason 
 for not falling in love with Isabella is this Mr. Granville 
 would make short work with your clerkship if it was to get to 
 his ears. Prcnez garde." 
 
 Marion laughed, and thanked Mrs. Nordheim for the inform- 
 tion she had given him, and then hurried down to the office. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Cows and Mocking Bird* in Soulh Carolina The French Cojfee House 
 in Warren st. t and its 
 
 NEARLY a year Ijad gone by since the close of the last 
 chapter, and two'years since the arrival of Marion in New 
 York. Not a week had passed without his writing a letter to 
 his parents, or receiving one from them, and every now and 
 then, he would get some present from home, to remind him that 
 he was not forgotten. He had remitted one hundred and sixty 
 dollars to his father. The latter acknowledged its receipt, 
 and while he thanked his son for sending it, declined to use it 
 for his own purpose. 
 
 "We have no need of it, my son, but I have placed it where 
 it will grow in other words cows are worth here at present 
 only eight dollars. I have bought and branded M M, twenty 
 cows, and have registered them in the parish as yours. Four 
 or five years hence my son will be quite a cattle proprietor. 
 I have taken to Charleston four cages, each containing a 
 valuable mocking bird ; they will be sent to you by the first 
 ship." 
 
 The ship arrived, and Marion gave one of the birds to 
 Wilson, the book-keeper, one to Mrs. Nordheim, one to 
 Isabella Granville, and the fourth Mr. Nordheim offered to 
 buy it. Marion refused to sell it, but begged Mr. Nordheim 
 to accept it, adding 
 
 " I have already given one to Mrs. Nordheim." 
 
 " I aware of that, Marion, but I wish you to procure the
 
 54 VIGOR. 
 
 handsomest cage you can find. Put my bird in it. I Trill 
 give you the address to which I wish it taken, and you shall 
 accompany it with a note from me. I have to ask an addition- 
 al favor. You need not mention the circumstance of the bird, 
 or any part of this conversation, or to whom I have given the 
 bird." 
 
 " Certainly not, if you do not wish it." 
 
 As the office was closing that night, Marion asked Mr. 
 Wilson if he would go and take a cup of coffee with him The 
 offer was accepted, and they strolled off to No. 9 Warren 
 street. At that time there was a French coffee-house there, 
 kept by a sleepy-looking Frenchman named Blinn. When Mr. 
 Wilson and Marion had taken their seats at one of the small 
 tables, Marion ordered coffee and omelettes for two from 
 Blinn himself, who attended to all orders. The order was 
 given in French. Mr. Wilson remarked it. 
 
 " Yes, I must confess that such is my anxiety to perfect my- 
 self in French, that T come here every chance I get to prac- 
 tice. There are some very remarkable men, Mr. Wilson, that 
 visit this place daily. Fitz Green Halleck, the poet, who has 
 rooms at 45 down the street ; Charles Fenno Hoffman, and 
 several others. T have become well acquainted with Mr. Hal- 
 leck, and have been to his rooms at Mr. Martine's, where he 
 has roomed for fifteen years. I like him very much. With 
 Mr. Hoffman I am not so well acquainted. He must be pre- 
 paring himself for death or the mad-house." 
 
 " Why do you think so ?" 
 
 "Because I have seen him drink at one sitting, and that 
 not once, but a hundred times, four or five cups of this French 
 coffee, as strong as lye ; but that is not all. He places a large 
 lump of sugar in a teaspoon, puts it across the top of his cup 
 over the coffee, then pours over it a wine glass of Kirchwas- 
 ser, and burns it, the sugar melting and running into the cof- 
 fee. It is a devil's dose, is it not?" 
 
 " Yes, I should think so, if old Lucifer ever stimulates. I 
 should think a few such cups of coffee, with the burnt sugar 
 and Kirchwasser, would waken the old chap up." 
 
 " While we are waiting for our omelette I propose to read 
 you a letter from my father," and Marion read the letter about 
 cows and mocking birds. 
 
 " Cows are cheap in South Carolina, are they not?" 
 
 " Extremely so. But it costs nothing to keep them. If my 
 father does as he says, (and I never knew him do otherwise,) I 
 may own a hundred cows before five years are over."
 
 VIGOR. 55 
 
 "It will cost some money and fodder to keep such a stock 
 in the winter," observed Mr. Wilson. 
 
 "Not a cent. Those cows will go off in the woods, and 
 perhaps not be seen until next spring. Then father will hunt 
 them up, for they will run with his stock. They will bo found 
 with calves ; all the bull calves will be selected, fattened, and 
 sent to Charleston, where they will bring seven dollars each. 
 The heifer calves will be branded M. M., and turned adrift 
 again with their mothers and the bulls." 
 
 " How do you manage to keep them out of your neighbor's 
 land ? Do they break down fences V 
 
 " Fences ! Fences are somewhat rare in the great swamps 
 and forests in South Carolina. Our neighbors do as we do 
 with 'heir cattle, and they feed themselves from one end of 
 the year to the other. We only keep up a few cows for milk- 
 ing purposes. Why, we raise hogs and colts in the same 
 manner. What do you think of Mr. Nordheim's asking me for 
 a mocking bird extra, eh ?" 
 
 " I think he intended to give it to his mistress." 
 
 " His mistress !" and Marion jumped up ; " mistress ! what, 
 does he keep a mistress ?" 
 
 " A mistress. By the Lord Harry I don't think he keeps a 
 mistress, I think it more likely that he keeps three or four. 
 You seem perfectly astonished." 
 
 " I am, and can hardly credit it. x His wife knows nothing 
 of it." 
 
 " I dare say not. At least I should presume it would not 
 be a very frequent or agreeable subject of conversation in the 
 family circle between man and wife. Don't you- remember 
 about four months ago asking me about a beautiful girl with 
 light hair that called to get some money ?" 
 
 " Very well. She was a beauty, I do remember." 
 
 " That was one of the mistresses of our worthy Mr. Nord- 
 heim, and she occupies a handsome two-story house in Broome 
 street, not far from Hudson. Nordheim has had her about a 
 year. He picked her up somewhere in the country, and pays 
 house rent, furniture bills, &c. for her." 
 
 " It is a shame and a sin," said Marion. 
 
 " Not at all. Nordheim is rich, and the firm is coining 
 money. He can afford it, and if a man can't do what he pleases 
 with his own money, what is the world coming to in a financial 
 point of view ? I dare say you will see the lady with your 
 own eyes, for I judge that the junior partner intends that you 
 shall carry the bird up to Miss Norris, for that is her name.
 
 56 VIGOR. 
 
 Don't those birds cost your father some money ? I would not 
 take twenty dollars for the bird you gave me. I have him hung 
 up in Clark & Brown's bar-room, and the chap goes it with a 
 perfect looseness." 
 
 " No, they are as thick at Monck's Corners as robins are 
 here in the Spring. They build nests all about our house, and 
 as soon as they are hatched, we take the nest and put it into a 
 cage. The old birds follow, and then they feed the young 
 birds in the cage until they are able to fly. Then we have to 
 be careful for the old birds, when they find their young old 
 enough to fly, and unable to get out, go into the woods and 
 select some poisonous berries, which they administer, and kill 
 the little birds, if not prevented." 
 
 " That is queer, and bad in a financial point of view. It ia 
 getting late, and I must go," said Wilson. 
 
 Marion was extremely embarrassed when he reached Bond 
 street. He had made a discovery in reference to Mr. Nord- 
 heim that he would prefer not to have made. He felt guilty 
 himself, and when Mrs. Nordheim asked him what the matter 
 was, or if anything unpleasant had happened, he tried to laugh 
 it off, and only made matters worse. Finally, he concluded 
 that come what would, he would keep the secret, and Mrs. 
 Nordheim remarked, " Very well, Marion, you have made a 
 discovery of some kind that affects me, and you will not tell 
 me what it is. That is not brotherly. I am the best friend 
 you have in the world, and you ought to trust me as such." 
 
 When each retired for the night, there was a certain degree 
 of coldness. Marion felt that he must regain her confidence 
 at any cost. 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 The. Hmi of the Ktpt Mistress The Opinion of a Wife of her Husband' s Follies. 
 
 TRUE to his word, the next morning Mr. Nordheim, who was 
 absent from breakfast at his own house, met Marion at the office, 
 and handed him a note. It was addressed to " Miss C. Norris, 
 No 591 Broome street." 
 
 " Did you get the cage' as I wished ?" he asked. 
 
 " I did, sir," replied Marion. 
 
 " Take the porter and go with it and the bird to the number 
 where this note is addressed. Send him off when you reach
 
 VIGOR. 57 
 
 there, and deliver the note yourself to the lady with the bird 
 and cage," said Mr. Nordheim. 
 
 Not many hours elapsed before Marion was at the resi- 
 dence designated. He inquired for the lady, and a negro 
 girl received the bird cage, and asked Marion into the 
 parlor. He handed the note to the girl, and bade her take 
 it up to her mistress with the cage and bird. While she was 
 doing this errand, he had time to look around the parlor. It was 
 luxuriously furnished, a double parlor, with mahogany doors 
 between, which were furnished precisely alike. The walls were 
 covered with paintings, that at a glance Marion knew to be by 
 the old masters. The carpets were so thick that you hardly 
 heard your own footstep. In both the front and back parlors 
 were centre tables of black Egyptian marble, and they were 
 covered with books, bound in the most costly stylo of binding. 
 Sofas, lounges and ottomans were in every part of the parlor, 
 and covered with the most costly blue velvet. Marion had no 
 time for further examination, for the girl returned and said, 
 " Missus wants you to come up stairs." Marion followed her, 
 and was shown into a sleeping room extending the whole 
 width of the house on the front part of the second story. His 
 eye rested upon the same beautiful face that he had seen once 
 before, and he recognized her at once. There was a splendid 
 bedstead in the room, but the lady was dressed in a rich silk 
 dressing-gown, and reclined upon a lounge near one of the 
 windows. She raised her head as Marion entered. In her hand 
 she held the note, and by her side upon the floor was the cage 
 and bird. 
 
 " Oh it is you, Mr. Marion, you do not know how very glad 
 I am to see you. Mr. Nordheim has often spoke of you, and 
 I have to thank you for for this charming present. There, 
 .don't say a word. I know all about it. Come and sit down by 
 me. Do you know that I had to threaten Mr. Nordheim before 
 he would consent that you should come up here ?" 
 
 Marion bowed and took the seat. 
 
 " I have not had my breakfast. Do ring that bell, and you 
 must take a cup of coffee with me." 
 
 Marion was about to decline, but the impetuous girl declared 
 he should. The negress came in, and she ordered a double 
 breakfast. She gazed at Marion. 
 
 " How old are you ?" 
 
 " I shall be seventeen before many months are over." 
 
 " You are handsome and good, and I shall like you very 
 much. There, don't blush and look foolish. Wait until you 
 
 3*
 
 58 VIGOR. 
 
 hear me through. You know my relations with Mr. Nordheim. 
 There don't say a word that is enough. Mr. Nordheim is 
 kind very kind yet he is very jealous. There are things 
 that I need must have I crave them. I will have them. I 
 crave knowledge. I read read read every thing that I can 
 get hold of. You see what a quantity of books 1 have got" 
 (the room was littered up with books.) " I have read them all. 
 Mr. Nordheim says that yon. are learning different languages. 
 Is that so ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam, I am. learning languages." 
 
 " How many have you acquired ?" 
 
 " Two Dutch and French. I am now learning German. I 
 mean to learn more before I have finished," observed Marion 
 in reply. 
 
 " That is capital. T am crazy to learn French, German, Spa- 
 nish, and Italian. Now tell me, how do you manage ?" 
 
 Marion related to her his mode of learning a language. 
 
 " You have given me a new idea, and I shall not lose it. 
 But now answer me another question. I cannot go about to 
 coffee houses and French places. How can I acquire the pro- 
 nunciation ? I know don't talk. I must have a teacher. 
 Now you can find me a proper person who can teach me 
 French, German, or Spanish. I know you can. Nordheira 
 says so, and he is willing that I shall have one of your selec- 
 tion. Why, Marion, you are handsome ! What a fool Nord- 
 heim is, to be sure. He might with reason be ten times more 
 jealous of you than any man he has ever brought here yet." 
 
 Marion looked confused. 
 
 " You need not be afraid of me, Marion. I know your posi- 
 tion at the home of Mr. Nordheim. I will not mention the 
 name of that lady it is too pure for my lips. I hope she is 
 happy. There don't say any thing. You can serve me in 
 many ways. Will you ? That is enough. I frequently need 
 money. Nordheim will always give it to you, or I will write 
 a note to you when I want any special favor. Now about the 
 teacher. Will you find one for me ? Some oldish man who 
 is poor.'' Marion promised that he would do so. " Find one, 
 if you can, who can teach me several languages -a German, 
 Pole, or Russian. I understand those people speak three or 
 four languages equally well. Did you notice my piano in the 
 rear parlor ? If I was dressed and down stairs I would play 
 and sing to you. Nordheim has had me taught me the piano, 
 and to sing also to play on the guitar an accompaniment to 
 myself when I sing. Oh what pleasure ! I should not have
 
 VIGOR. 59 
 
 been allowed to learn that, but I could have a woman lo teach 
 me those accomplishments. Pshaw ! what am I talking about. 
 You don't understand such restraints," said Miss Norris. Ma- 
 rion did, though. He was wiser than she thought. " What 
 delight that bird will give me ! What shall I call him ? Oh, 
 I know Marion. That's a good name. I want you to get me 
 a quantity of books will you ? You say ' Yes.' I will send 
 you a list in a note, and you must get the money from Mr. 
 Nordheim. Look, here is my hand-writing. What do you 
 think of it? 'Neat and lady-like,' you say? Will you be- 
 lieve me when I tell you that when Nordheim when I be- 
 came acquainted with him, I could not write my own name ? 
 I have cause to be grateful to him for some things, if not for 
 others. Now I know you are anxious to get off to that horri- 
 ble office. Here is the breakfast. Help me to devour that, 
 and then you may go. Not till then." She poured out a cup 
 of coffee, made him eat some nice toast, and when he had fin- 
 ished said, " Now you may go, Marion, but have mercy upon 
 my mania to learn French, and get me a teacher suitable to 
 my circumstances." Marion promised, and soon after took his 
 leave. The reader who remembers chapter eighth of this book 
 will not need to be reminded that the country girl Clara Nor- 
 ris, who eighteen months previous had been brought by Mr. 
 Nordheim to the city, and who was then innocent and igno- 
 rant, was now the luxuriously located, and the well read and 
 somewhat literary kept mistress. Nordheim had bestowed 
 upon her every accomplishment that he could, consistently 
 with his jealousy of male teachers. Miss Norris had led a life 
 of seclusion, and devoted herself to study and to reading. Her 
 mind was maturing for the most deadly purposes. She was 
 armed with beauty, and needed but the sharper weapons 
 which the mind's accomplishment would give her, to make her 
 vengeance felt whenever she should repay upon man the in- 
 jury she had received from his sex. Marion reflected well 
 upon his position as he walked from Bond street down Hud- 
 son, and when he reached St. John's Park one of the gates was 
 open, and he passed in and took a seat in an arbor. There he 
 remained over an hour, endeavoring to satisfy his own con- 
 science as to what was right and proper for him to do under 
 the peculiar circumstance in which he was placed. " I am 
 living in the house with the pure wife of uiy employer. She 
 is like a sister to me, and here I am forced by her husband 
 to be a sort of platonic friend .to his kept mistress ! Now 
 mind, Marion Monck. Do what is right. You are obliged to
 
 60 VIGOR. 
 
 do what your employer civilly asks 3-011 to do, but as the 
 only person affected is the wife and situated as I am, in the 
 house with her, I will not lose her confidence, come what will. 
 If she acts upon what I shall tell her, why then, there will bo 
 a pretty general smash up and breaking of things, and I must 
 take my chance." He found Mr. Nordhciiu sit the office. The 
 latter quietly enquired if he delivered the bird and note, and 
 when answered in the affirmative, made no farther comment. 
 
 Mr. Wilson, the book-keeper, nodded to Marion and whis- 
 pered, " Been up in Broome street, eh ? Expensive in a finan- 
 cial point of view, eh '(" Marion smiled and went at his work. 
 When evening came he hurried home, and although anxious, 
 yet as he opened the door of the tea-room in a cheerful man- 
 ner, he caught the attention of Mrs. Nordheira, who congratu- 
 lated him in being in so good spirits. "lam, dear Bessy, 
 and I will tell you why." 
 
 She gazed into his face a moment, and then said, " Tell me 
 why." 
 
 " Because I am placed in an awkward situation. I have 
 not shown that confidence in you that I ought to have done. 
 Come what will, after tea I want you to go up in my room. I 
 have some writing to do, and when we get up there you shall 
 know all." She smiled. Tea was soon over, and Marion went 
 to his room. He was soon followed by Mrs. Nordheim. 
 " Now be seated, Bessy, and I will tell you all that I have 
 kept from you. It may make trouble, but you shall never say I 
 concealed any thing from you, in any way or shape, or look 
 coldly upon me as you did last night." Marion took her hand 
 and told her all. Every thing that Nordheim her husband 
 had said and done, and all about the beautiful mistress and her 
 well furnished home. She never spoke a word. " Well, 
 Bessy, what is the matter ? Why don't you say something ? 
 Are you angry with me ?" 
 
 " No, no. God bless you, Marion. You have made me very, 
 very happy by what you have told me. I could not bear the 
 thought that my loved brother my Marion, my friend, that I 
 would trust with life, could be a traitor and keep back any se- 
 crets from me. No angry ? No. Why should I be with 
 you ? But I should have been outraged if you had not told 
 me. So they would get you into the meshes of that lady, 
 would they ?" 
 
 , Marion was astonished, and asked, " Well, Bessy ; it don't 
 seem to annoy you at all, what I have told you ?" 
 
 She smiled. " Brother mine, I have known it all along.
 
 VIGOR. 61 
 
 All I cared about was your learning what I already knew, and 
 keeping it a secret from me that y^u did know it. As for 
 that girl or Mr. Nordheim, I don't care the weight of a 
 feather what they do. Did I love him, I ivight feel different. 
 I married him to obtain two thousand dollars a year. It is 
 settled upon me, and as long as I act right it cannot be altered. 
 Let him do as he pleases. Keep as many women as he 
 pleases. Seduce as many girls as he chooses, or corrupt as 
 many married women as he sees fit. It is none of my business 
 so long as he don't sport them in my face, or bring them into 
 my house. No.w that perfect confidence is restored between 
 you and me, I rather like the idea that Mr. Nordheim should 
 have selected you to get books' and language teachers for Miss 
 Clara. It will be extremely funny for us to know how my moral 
 husband progresses. But Marion, mind you " what she was 
 going to say whether to caution Marion against being en- 
 trapped in the golden hair of Miss Clara, it is not our province 
 to reckon. " Marion, you may kiss rne to-night as long as you 
 please." Marion 'drew her upon his knees, unfastened her 
 hair, and availed himself of her offer, saying, as he almost 
 smothered her with his loving caresses, " Dear Bessy. I im- 
 agined you would be outrageously angry with Mr. Nordheim 
 and the lady, and that at least you would get a divorce or do 
 something very dreadful. I am agreeably disappointed." 
 
 " Marion, you need not have had any such fears. He is not 
 worth the trouble. Now stop kissing me. Go to work at your 
 desk. It is nearly twelve o'clock, and I must go to bed, for I 
 am weary and tired. Good night, Marion ; you have shown 
 that you are a dear good brother, and I will never be angry 
 again with you a moment. So she told you that you were very 
 handsome ? She is a fool, and ought to know that you are 
 merely a child." 
 
 She left the room, and he went to work with his pen. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The Marriage of Thomai Granville General Jackson The party from 
 Ntw York. 
 
 THERE was a gay party assembled in an old fashioned dwell- 
 ing in the city of Baltimore, on Christmas eve, 18 . The 
 building was in the old portion of the monumental city, and 
 was known as " the Castle." Few of our readers that have
 
 62 VIGOR. 
 
 visited that city, but what will remember it. The rooms were 
 spacious, and crowded wiMi guests, who comprised some of the 
 oldest and best families in Maryland. There was more beauty 
 in that assembly than had been gathered together for many 
 years. Washington, the capital, had sent down several guests, 
 among whom was the venerable President, whose slight figure 
 and stern military aspect made all who approached him pause 
 with respect and reverence. It was General Jackson. Several 
 senators and members of the House of Representatives had 
 come down with him. 
 
 There had been a wedding at five o'clock that afternoon in 
 the Cathedral, and Archbishop Eccleston had performed the 
 ceremony which made Thomas Granville the husband of Cathe- 
 rine Pinckney. The venerable edifice was crowded with spec- 
 tators, who had been invited to the wedding, for Granville had 
 troops of friends, and the beautiful and accomplished bride 
 had been the belle of Baltimore. She had refused scores of 
 offers, for she had long given her heart to Tom. To be refused 
 by Kate Pinckney was a part of a Baltimore young man's edu- 
 cation. His education was not deemed complete unless he 
 had offered his hand and been refused by Kate. The more 
 intimate friends had been invited to a" large evening parfy at 
 the Castle, given by the venerable grandmother of the bride, 
 whose age was nearly ninety, and yet she was as gay and as 
 lively as any one of the youngest in that gay party. She was 
 the widow of one of the signers of the Declaration of Indepen- 
 dence, but had outlived her worthy husband half a century. 
 She was rich, and although eccentric, and at times very penu- 
 rious, yet when a favorite grandchild married, she spared no 
 pains or expense to make a brilliant display. A daughter had 
 married one of the most gallant of our commodores in the last 
 war, and from this marriage came seven lovely girls and two 
 sons. It was one of those beautiful girls whose marriage had 
 taken place that day. 
 
 All the other sisters were present, and their names were 
 somewhat remarkable. The mother had named the younger 
 daughters after leading men. There was Miss Madison Piuck- 
 ney, next to Kate in years ; then came Miss Monroe Pinck- 
 ney, Clay Pinckney, and Calhoun Pinckney. The sisters, from 
 the eldest, Kate, to the youngest, Calhoun Pinckney, were not 
 less celebrated for their beauty than their superior education 
 and accomplishments. Their father, when alive, had been a 
 devoted friend of General Jackson, and the mother was not 
 less so after his death. Hence the presence of the President
 
 VIGOR. 63 
 
 on this occasion. He was in good spirits, and seemed as happy 
 as though no cares of State, no United States Bank, or no dis- 
 union troubles preyed upon his mind. He even danced a reel 
 with the venerable old dame, whose age lacked but five years 
 of reaching a century. The President offered his congratula- 
 tions to the bride and her husband with a hearty good-will, and 
 observed to the bridegroom, 
 
 " Tom, I understand that you are about to engage ill mer- 
 cantile business in New York. I hope you will be successful ; 
 but merchandizing is but a species of gambling, and should you 
 not succeed, come and see me." 
 
 Tom had visited Washington he had told stories and anec- 
 dotes, sung songs at the President's fireside, and made many 
 a gloomy, anxious hour pass merrily to the old hero, with whom 
 he became a great favorite. " Come and see me " meant 
 worlds when it came from Andrew Jackson's lips ; and when, 
 not many years after, Tom did go and see the old man at the 
 White House, he made him dine with him ; and when Tom 
 felt almost discouraged at his future prospects being so gloomy, 
 and was about leaving after the dinner, General Jackson told 
 him to wait a moment. Tom complied, and walked to one of 
 the windows that overlooked the Potomac. The President 
 touched his elbow. 
 
 " Tom, that recitation you gave after dinner, which you say 
 is from a play of our friend Howard Payne, was very good 
 very capital. Appropriate to you, Tom, eh ? Pronounce it 
 again here. I like it." 
 
 Tom repeated : 
 
 " I can believe that beauty such as thine 
 May possess a thousand fascinating snares to lure the 
 Wavering and confound the weak ; but, what is his 
 Honor, that a sigh can shake, or his virtue, that a 
 Tear can move ? Truth, valor, justice, constancy 
 Of soul, these are the attributes of manly natures. 
 Be woman e'er so beauteous, man waa born for 
 Nobler purposes than to be her slave." 
 
 " So he was, Tom so he was. You and Kate have parted. 
 
 Very bad d d bad. But, cheer up. What do you intend 
 
 to do 1 Brother won't help you, eh ?" 
 
 " No, General, he will not. I believe I am abandoned by 
 all. have got no friends. Don't know what I shall do, unless 
 I turn actor." 
 
 " You would make a first rate actor, Tom, but wait a while. 
 You are wild, Tom everybody says so I think so nryself. 
 But you must keep straight with me. Have you any money 2"
 
 64 VIGOR. 
 
 " No, General, not fifty cents." 
 
 " I will give you thirty dollars lend it to you. To-morrow 
 I will send your name into the Senate for confirmation as 
 consul to the second city in France. Here is the money to get 
 out of this place with. Come and see me before you go abroad. 
 You will have plenty of friends as soou as your appointment 
 is in the Globe. Good-bye." 
 
 But we are getting in advance of our narrative. Our read- 
 ers must return from this little digression to the wedding 
 party and supper. All the Granville family were there, ex- 
 cept Mrs. Pitt Granville. Mr. W. Pitt Granville, his son Wal- 
 ter, and his daughter Isabel, had come on from New York to 
 be present at the wedding. Isabel was one of the six brides- 
 maids of aunt Kate her sisters and Miss Benson making the 
 other five. Walter was making the best use of bis time with 
 Miss Madison Pinckney, with whom it may not be out of place 
 to mention that he was desperately in love and these young 
 people were actually engaged to be married. This was a secret 
 kept from the elder Granville, who would have murdered his 
 son in cold blood if he had suspected such a thing for an in- 
 stant. Miss Margaret Benson, a daughter of Colonel Benson, 
 had come on with the party from New York, as a friend of 
 Isabella and her aunt Kate. She acted as one of the brides- 
 maids, as before stated. 
 
 Tom had six chosen friends from New York who acted as 
 his groomsmen. The first was Colonel W. Mac Neil ; the oth- 
 ers were Doctor Carnochan, a young surgeon who at that pe- 
 riod had but little else to do than attend weddings, or any 
 other amusing affair, though now the leading surgeon of the 
 country, if not of the world. A third was an Englishman of 
 good family, a Mr. Sidney Herbert Cedar, who wrote tales for 
 magazines, and gained by ;< hook or crook a living." The fourth 
 was" Mr. Francis Popinjay, who lived oif his wits and his wife's 
 allowance from out of a bankrupt estate swindled out of the 
 Government by a notorious tea importer. The fifth was a cha- 
 racter well known in New York as Colonel Le Grand Peacock, 
 and the sixth was Walter Granville, Tom's nephew. 
 
 All the New York visitors were putting up at Barnum's 
 Hotel, and late at night, when the party at the Castle was 
 broken up, another elegant repast was spread by direction of 
 Mr. Granville, under Barnum's superintendence. Some of the 
 guests kept it up until daylight, in the long dining-room of the 
 hotel. 
 
 It was decided that immediately after the wedding, the
 
 VIGOR. 65 
 
 bridal party should return to New York, and then the bride 
 and groom should go to housekeeping ut once, in a house pre- 
 pared by Mr. W. P. Granville, and there spend their honey- 
 moon. We ought here to mention, that the engagement be- 
 tween Thomas Granville and Kate Pinckney had been of some 
 duration. It would have been still longer, had not Mr. Gran- 
 ville senior opened a negotiation with the venerable grandmo- 
 ther of the bride. Mr. W. Pitt Granville agreed that imme- 
 diately after the wedding he would take Tom into the firm of 
 Granville and Nordheim, and give him an interest in the busi- 
 ness ; and the relict of the signer of the Declaration, who was 
 a shrewd business woman in her way, agreed to place $25,000 
 in the concern for Tom, if he kept steady and devoted to busi- 
 ness one. year. This proved a prudent and safe clause. 
 
 The elder Granville was delighted with the wedding. He 
 saw hope for his favorite brother, " Master Tom," as he called 
 him, and he never dreamed that Tom would sport with such 
 brilliant prospects, or pursue a course that would dash his 
 hopes to the ground. The elder Granville confessed to Col- 
 onel Mac Neil that he had never witnessed a bridal that opened 
 with such brilliant prospects as that of his brother. Tom was 
 gifted, clever and amiable, and although somewhat eccentric 
 and extremely lazy, yet Mr. Granville concluded that when he 
 became the husband of the brilliant, beautiful, and well de- 
 scended Kate Pinckney one who brought money to him and 
 a powerful connexion one who actually worshipped the very 
 ground which Tom trod upon, and whom Tom professed to love 
 deeply and devotedly in return, they would be happy. These 
 were hopeful prospects for the new beginners in married life ; 
 and what would have been the fate of any one of the brilliant 
 crowd at that wedding, if he or she had prophesied that ere one 
 year had passed, Tom would have left business and his brother, 
 separated from his wife, so recently a bride, and that in that 
 space of time she would have applied for a divorce, and that 
 ere two years had passed, it would have been granted by the 
 Legislature of Maryland. Such is life, under the most happy 
 auspices. 
 
 The morning after the wedding, all of the party that had 
 come on from New York returned thither with the bride and 
 groom'; and as soon as they arrived in that city, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Tom Granville left for Niagara Falls.
 
 66 VIGOR. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 \ 
 
 The Supper at the City Hold The Count Falsechinski. 
 
 MARION did not go to Baltimore to attend the wedding of 
 Thomas Granville, although the latter gave him a cordial invi- 
 tation to do so. His opinion of Tom was not very flattering to 
 that gentleman in a business point of view. He thought that 
 Tom was gifted, could tell a good story and sing a song very 
 prettily ; but in all other respects he regarded him a's a very 
 light and silly fellow. He had a good excuse for not accepting 
 the invitation to the wedding. In the first place the elder 
 Granville would not have allowed Marion to leave the counting 
 room when he himself was absent. He was now seventeen 
 years of age almost fully developed in stature, and hia fea- 
 tures possessed a dignity that made him appear older than he 
 really was. Two years and a half in the counting-room had 
 made quite a change in the South Carolina boy. He had been 
 promoted step by step for his devotion to business, and now he 
 ranked next to Mr. Wilson, the head clerk or book-keeper. 
 Marion entered vessels and goods at the Custom House when 
 they came consigned to the firm ; he made sales of merchand- 
 ize, purchased produce for foreign orders, and chartered ves- 
 sels when needed. He also wrote most of the domestic busi- 
 ness letters of the firm, and not a few foreign ones. He had 
 assisted Mr. Wilson so often with his books, that he told Ma- 
 rion as a great mark of his esteem and respect, " Marion, if I 
 were to die, the best thing the firm could do in a financial 
 point of view, would be to put you in my place. You can 
 keep the books as welL.as I can.'' 
 
 Mr. Nordheim did not go to tho wedding. He was obliged 
 to remain and sign checks and papers during the absence of 
 Mr. Granville. Marion, since his interview with Miss Norris, 
 had received several notes from her, giving him commissions 
 to purchase books, papers, journals, and many other things. 
 He had frequently taken them up to her himself, and some- 
 times sent a note, with the article ordered, by the porter. Mr. 
 Nordheim had frequently given him money to pay for such or- 
 ders, and sometimes two hundred dollars were called for in 
 one sum. He never refused a demand from that quarter, and
 
 VIGOR. 67 
 
 thanked Marion for relieving him of trouble and bother. -He 
 was really grateful. 
 
 Marion had made several attempts to procure a proper per- 
 son as teacher of languages to Miss Norris, but the summer 
 and autumn had passed since the request was made, and he 
 had been unsuccessful. He almost despaired of finding one, 
 and he wrote an apologetic note to that effect. The reply was, 
 " Don't give it up. I will wait." 
 
 " After the return of Mr. G-ranville from the wedding at 
 Baltimore, Marion was relieved from many duties that became 
 his while Mr. Granville was absent, and he found more leisure 
 to attend to his own studies and amusements. About a month 
 after the marriage, he was invited by Colonel Mac Neil to pay 
 him a visit at his room in the City Hotel, and to meet a few 
 friends. Marion accepted the invitation, and at nine o'clock 
 was at the place designated. The Colonel had invited a dozen 
 people to a supper which was arranged to come off in his own 
 parlor, for he had a handsome suite of rooms in the City Ho- 
 tel, which was then kept by Chester Jennings, and was the 
 principal hotel in New York. It was here that all the great 
 balls and famous dinners came off, and it was at the City Hotel 
 that strangers of any note stopped when they came to the city. 
 
 The supper was truly a recherche affair, and did credit to 
 the Colonel's good taste in ordering it. It is a secret that few 
 men possess, but Col. Mac Neil was an old traveller. There 
 were present at it several bloods and fast young men of the 
 town, and they drank, sang, and seemed to' enjoy themselves 
 amazingly. Dr. Carnochan was at the table, and so was Mr. 
 Cedar, the story writer ; and to these gentlemen Marion was 
 formally presented. There was a Mr. Wolcott, a son of an 
 ex-Governor of Connecticut, a foreign count with an unpro- 
 nounceable name, and an Irish gentleman, that Mac introduced 
 to Marion as Mr. John O'Doemall. After the supper had been 
 disposed of, the Colonel introduced cards, and parties were 
 made up in different parts of the room. Marion was seated 
 near the foreign Count, and as he noticed that he did not seem 
 disposed to join himself to any of the parties at the oard tables, 
 he determined to form a more intimate acquaintance, and asked, 
 
 " Count, do you not intend to play ?" 
 
 " No sare." 
 
 " I believe I was introduced to you in a somewhat informal 
 manner by our host, but your name escaped me. May I ask 
 you to repeat it ?" 
 
 " The Count Adolphus Falsechinski, at your service, sare."
 
 68 VIGOR. 
 
 " Count, I am really pleased to make your acquaintance ;" 
 and Marion opened upon him in French. The Count spoke it 
 like a French native. Dutch low Dutch came next. That 
 the Count was at home in, and you could not doubt but that 
 he had lived in the Netherlands from boyhood. The Count 
 was e-qually pleased to find some one who could speak Nether- 
 land Dutch, as it was a somewhat rare accomplishment in New 
 York. 
 
 " Pray, sir Count, are you a Dutch Count 1" 
 
 " No sare I am a Polish nobleman. I left my own country 
 after the late revolution." 
 
 " Then you speak other languages perhaps better, if that 
 were possible, than you do Dutch, French, or English." 
 
 "Sare, I speak the English, the French, the German, the 
 Russian, the Danish, the Spanish, the Italian, the Portuguese, 
 the Holland Dutch, and of course the language of my own 
 beautiful loved country, which is Polish. I am also a good 
 Greek as well as Latin scholar, and having resided in Greece 
 some time, I speak the modern Greek." 
 
 Marion bowed to the Count with the most profound respect, 
 and the thought came to him that it was extremely unfortunate 
 that the Count was not poor, as he would be just the person to 
 engage as language teacher to Miss Norris. He took a good 
 look at the Count, and examined his dress. He wore white 
 pantaloons. It was January, and the night was bitter cold ; 
 but Counts and other distinguished foreigners are permitted 
 to do queer things. Still Marion would not have been much 
 less surprised had the Count wore no unmentionables at all. 
 The coat was a military arrangement, and buttoned close up to 
 the throat. Although it was warm in the room, yet the coat 
 clasped its owner closely, and showed no signs of unbuttoning. 
 Conversation commenced again, and Marion 4evoted himself to 
 the Count until the party broke up. Occasionally he watched 
 the luck of the players, and particularly the Colonel. He 
 could not exactly tell who was the winner, until he heard the 
 Count remark, 
 
 " Ah, what a happy dog ! The Colonel Mac Neil has wou 
 three thousand dollars tbis evening. It will pay for many 
 suppers." 
 
 As the guests of the Colonel were passing through the hall 
 of the hotel, Marion found himself svalking by the side of the 
 handsome Count. 
 
 " Do you go up or down town ?" he asked, 
 
 " Up," replied the Count.
 
 VIGOR. 69 
 
 " And as I am going the same way, suppose we keep each 
 other company ?" 
 
 " It will give me the very greatest of pleasure to do so," 
 said the Count ; and so they walked up Broadway. It was a 
 bitter cold night. Marion wore a thick overcoat, but before 
 the two pedestrians had got as far as Canal street, he was al- 
 most perished. The Count had no cloak or overcoat, but lie 
 did not seem to feel the cold. Marion chatted away about the 
 parties with whom they had spent the evening, and the Count 
 gave him a great quantity of very useful information. He was 
 quite indignant that the young blades who lost their money 
 should have been so green as to lose it to Colonel Mac Neil. 
 
 " I am sure, Count, from some of your remarks, that you 
 understand ' bluff' better or as well as any gentleman who was 
 in that parlor. How comes it then that you did not play and 
 win some money yourself?" 
 
 The Count replied that there were many reasons, and some 
 day perhaps Marion would be convinced that one reason alone 
 was enough to prevent his playing. 
 
 The wind blew down Broadway so cold and so piercing, and 
 withal so wild and fierce, that Marion remarked it could not 
 have long left the region of the frozen North, where icebergs 
 abounded. On, on they went up Broadway. Prince and 
 Houston streets were passed, and when they came to the cor- 
 ner of Bond street, Marion stopped, remarking, 
 
 " Well, Count, we must part here, for I turn up this street 
 to the Bowery." 
 
 " So do I," answered the Count. 
 
 The weather seemed to become more intensely cold. They 
 reached the residence of Mr. Nordheim. Again Marion stop- 
 ped so did the Count. "At last I am home," said the for- 
 mer. " How much farther are you going, Count ?" demanded 
 Marion. 
 
 " Me ? well, I really don't know. I shall walk down town 
 again, and if I do not find some place open that keeps open all 
 night, I shall have to keep walking, unless I get so very cold 
 as to make it necessary for me to warm my toes in the watch- 
 house." 
 
 Marion was thunderstruck. " Count, I wish you to come in. 
 I have a good fire in my room. It is too cold to talk out here." 
 
 The Count declined. 
 
 " Psha ! no nonsense with me you don't know me. You 
 can rest yourself a few moments, and then if you wish to go, 
 you shall. It is near two o'clock."
 
 70 VIGOR. 
 
 The Count followed Marion into the house, and with littlo 
 noise they ascended to his room. There was a cheerful fire iu 
 the grate. Candles were on the table ready to be lighted, and 
 in addition there was a light supper waiting for Marion. 
 
 " Seat .yourself, Count, and be at home." 
 
 The Count drew a chair to the fire, gave a slight shiver, and 
 remarked, as though he had just found it out, " It is quite cool 
 to-night." 
 
 " Decidedly," said Marion, who had got off his overcoat, and 
 had taken a seat in a cozy cushioned rocking-chair. " Now, 
 Count, I want you to deal frankly with me. 1 am of the opin- 
 ion that you have no room to go to to-night." 
 
 " You are perfectly correct. Such is the fact." 
 
 " Excuse me, Count, I do not wish to pry into your affairs ; 
 but when a gentlemanly person like yourself makes such an 
 admission, it is high time that some friend should find out what 
 it means." 
 
 " You are right. You noticed that I ate very heartily to- 
 night at the supper ?" 
 
 " I did and wondered at it.-" 
 
 " This night food passed my lips for the first time in three 
 days." 
 
 " Count, Count, this is too bad !" and Marion looked at the 
 supper. The Count understood i't. 
 
 " No, no. I have ate enough for three days more." 
 
 " How is it that I find you in such company, and without a 
 home to go to ?" 
 
 "Simply this, that I have kept up appearances to the last. 
 Col. Mac Neil knew me under other circumstances. He knows 
 that I can handle cards better than he can. He knows that I 
 am too poor to play. He invited me to-night, with the under- 
 standing that if he was beat by any of his rich opponents, I was 
 to take his place, he was to furnish me with means, and my 
 share of the plunder would have been whatever he chose to 
 give me. He was lucky all the evening, and my services were 
 not needed. I was too proud to even tell Ihe person whose 
 supper I had eaten, that I had not a cent, or a place to lay my 
 head to-night. Had I done so, I dare say he would have 
 handed me a five, as he would have done to a beggar, but 
 would never have met me as an equal again." 
 
 " Count, do you know that you cannot get out of this room 
 to-night ?" 
 
 The Count insisted that he would go that he was sure that 
 he should be a trouble, and made a thousand apologies.
 
 VIGOR. 71 
 
 " I would cheerfully let you have money to-night, Count, 
 but no hotel is open, and I really have business for you to do 
 in tEe morning." 
 
 " Business for me !" the Count repeated, as though anything 
 for him to do was an utter, and very absurd idea. Hohad lost 
 all hope. 
 
 " Yes. Business occupation. Something that will em- 
 ploy your time, and that will give you an income that will sup- 
 port you like a gentleman, as I believe you are. Yonder is a 
 large double bed you have got to occupy one side, I the 
 other." 
 
 The Count would not he would sit by the fire. But no 
 Marion would not consent to anything but that the Count should 
 immediately undress and go to bed. The Count was in de- 
 spair. He would not undress he would lie down upon the 
 carpet, but he would not trespass so much upon the kindness 
 of Mr. Monck. Marion became really angry, and the Count 
 saw that it was so. He rose from his seat, and with quiet dig- 
 nity, said, 
 
 " Be it so. But you might have spared me from showing 
 my disgrace." As he said this he slowly unbuttoned his coat 
 and removed it from his body, and burst into tears. 
 
 So did Marion. " My poor Count, is it possible !" 
 
 The Count was vestless and shirtless. Not a rag covered 
 him but that old military coat and the close-fitting military 
 stock. He quietly took off the pair of white pantaloons and 
 his boots. He had not even a pair of stockings. 
 
 " Do not be angry with me, Mr. Monck. This is not my 
 seeking you made me do it ;" and as Marion continued silent, 
 he added, " I ought not to have come here, and then I should 
 not have been exposed." 
 
 " Exposed !" repeated Marion. " Why, Count, you don't 
 know me. Thank God, you are not far from my size. Now 
 Count, I want you to oblige me ;" and he opened a bureau, and 
 took from it two pair of thick woolen under shirts. " Put 
 them on, Count." Two pair of woolen drawers. " Put them 
 on." A pair of thick socks, and last a fine linen shirt were 
 laid across the chair. " All must go on." 
 
 The Count consented. 
 
 " Xow these pantaloons this vest, Count. Last, not least, 
 this coat. Here is a new stock. Now Count, don't stop yet 
 I am master here. Put on this cloak I never wear it. Now 
 Count, you can take all these things off, and go to bed as soon 
 as you please, but all have to go on in the morning ; and to
 
 72 VIGOR. 
 
 relieve your mind of .all obligation, let me say this that be- 
 fore to-morrow night I mean that you shall have employment. 
 Then, if you choose, you can pay me." 
 
 The Count was leaning his head on a chair, crying. He 
 could bear up with the thermometer at twenty degrees below 
 zero, but the kindness of a heart that beat at ninety in the 
 shade melted him. He was like a child. " Don't laugh at 
 me, Count," continued Marion, who delicately wished to spare 
 the Count's feelings, " but I have done you the most gross in- 
 justice ; and I beg your pardon a million of times." 
 
 " You, Mr. Monck ? Why, in what manner ?" 
 
 " Tell me, Count, you really wore those white pants this 
 cold January night because you had no other ?'' 
 
 " Certainly : but they were respectable, and no one would 
 notice them at a party." 
 
 " Why, Count, I think a hundred thousand times more of 
 you than I did before I knew all this. I did you gross injus- 
 tice about those pants. I never for a moment dreamed of the 
 real state of the case. I supposed you were a stuck-up for- 
 eigner, that wanted to come some new dodge over us unsophis- 
 ticated Yankees, and out-do us ; and that you had put on those 
 white pants to astonish tin crowd. You did astonish me. 
 Some day, Count, you will tell me how all this has come about. 
 Not to-night. Now let's to bed, and get a good though short 
 night's sleep, for it is after throe o'clock." 
 
 Both slept better than usual the one with the sweet con- 
 sciousness that he had performed a good action ; the other, 
 that he had found a true friend and some comfort in his dreary 
 walk. What passed in the morning in that room must be left 
 to another chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XY. . 
 
 The Count gets a Place. 
 
 THE sun was pouring his most brilliant beams into the room 
 of Marion Monck when he awoke the morning after the supper 
 at the City Hotel. He heard breathing near him, and as he 
 turned his eyes to the spot from whence the curious noise pro- 
 ceeded, he saw the pale face of the Count. He was buried in 
 deep sleep. Marion then recalled all the circumstances of the 
 past night. He immediately arose, dressed himself without
 
 VIGOR. t 73 
 
 making any noise, and descended to the breakfast room. 
 There he found Mrs. Nordheim, who received him very cor- 
 dially, and then enquired, "Who in the world, Marion, did you 
 bring home with you last night ? You were out very late." 
 Marion took her hand and commenced an apology. She inter- 
 rupted him. " Stop all that. I do not need any explanation. I 
 have the most unbounded confidence in you, Marion, and am 
 perfectly satisfied that when you do any thing out of the usual 
 course of things, it is capable of being properly explained." 
 
 " But I must tell you the whole story." 
 
 Mrs. Nordheim listened with the most profound attention 
 until Marion came to the part where he had to tell of the 
 Count's real destitution, and then she cried in sympathy. 
 
 " Poor fellow ! and to bear up so bravely, too ! We must 
 do some thing for him. What can be done ?" 
 
 " Leave it to me, dear Bessy. I have a plan in my head, 
 but have no time to detail it to you now." 
 
 " Don't attempt it. Go up and call the Count down to 
 breakfast. I have a nice one all ready, and it needs but an 
 extra plate, or he can take Mr. Nordheim's place. He did not 
 come home last night, and I suppose he will breakfast down 
 town to-day, or in Broome street Never mind." 
 
 Half an hour later the Count was seated at the breakfast- 
 table. He was a fine-looking follow, about -Marion's size, and 
 the clothes he had received made him look much better than 
 he did the night previous in the white pants. His moustache 
 and imperial were properly, arranged, his hair carefully 
 combed, and he was altogether a different person. His con- 
 versation was amusing, and Bessy Nordheim was much 
 pleased with him. Breakfast was over. 
 
 " Now, Count, I expect you to go down with me, and as I am 
 late, I must hurry you.'' Marion sent the girl up for his cloak 
 as well as overcoat, and after the Count had flung the cloak 
 over his person, they left for Broad street. 
 
 Mr. Nordheim was already at the store, and alone in his 
 private office. Marion entered, passed the usual compliments 
 of the day, and, after closing the door, asked Mr. Nordheim if 
 he could have a few moments' private conversation with him. 
 
 " Unquestionably, Marion. Is there any thing the matter at 
 the house ?'' said he, somewhat startled. 
 
 " Nothing, except 'that I took a guest there last night, en- 
 tirely unauthorized." 
 
 " Is that all T' and Mr. Nordheim looked listlessly out of the 
 window. Marion continued, and did not stop until he had 
 
 4
 
 74 VIGOR. 
 
 given in detail all that couid operate favorably for the Count, 
 adding, " You know, sir, Miss Clara has been very anxious for 
 a person to teach her languages. I think this is the very man, 
 if it meets your approval." 
 
 Mr. Nordheim was wide awake. " You have said nothing 
 to the person about Miss Norris ?" 
 ' Not a word." 
 ' Nor to her about the Count ?" 
 
 ' How could 1 ? I have not seen her." 
 
 1 True, true. Where is the person ?" 
 
 ' Seated in the front office." 
 
 ' Stay where you are. I will go and have a look at him." 
 
 Marion remained. Mr. Nordheim was absent but an instant, 
 and then he returned and resumed his seat, and reflected a 
 moment. 
 
 11 What do you propose to do in the matter, Marion ? He 
 seems a very nice person. Is he capable, think you 1 ?" 
 
 " I have no doubt about that, and I think that he is in such 
 need that he will be very faithful to you, sir, if you pay him 
 pretty liberally for his services." 
 
 " Indeed. You may be right. Suppose you engage him, 
 then. Hire him for the office." 
 
 " For the office ?" repeated Marion, in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, sir. Engage his services at fifty dollars a month, to 
 copy, translate, or do any work required about the counting- 
 room, and make one of the conditions that he shall teach Miss 
 Norris any language that she wishes to learn. I suppose he 
 can support himself very well on six hundred dollars a 3 r car, 
 and I will have it charged to my private account. I will 
 speak to Mr. Granville about the matter, and you can tell Mr. 
 Wilson to give him a desk and find something for him to do. 
 Draw a check for fifty dollars, and give him in advance, and 
 take his receipt. When this is done, you had better take him 
 up to Miss Norris. No. Go up yourself, and see what she 
 thinks of it, and if she agrees, the Count can go to give her 
 the first lesson to-morrow." 
 
 Mr. Nordheim was a prudent man ; if he paid for teaching^ 
 he meant to make the most of the teacher. 
 
 " When you get things fixed, Marion, you can let me know." 
 
 What the junior partner said to the senior, rests with them. 
 Marion informed Mr. Wilson that the Count Falscchinskj was 
 to be a clerk from that date, and then introduced them to each 
 other, first telling Mr. Wilson all about the Count, and after 
 he had asked the Count if six hundred dollars a year would
 
 VIGOR. 75 
 
 keep bim afloat, the Count could not contain his joy. He wa8 
 almost annoying in his expressions of gratitude. " Keep calm, 
 Count, and wait here until I return." 
 
 Marion went at once to the residence of Miss Norris, in- 
 formed her of his success, and told her that now she could 
 learn ten languages, if it pleased her to do so. He informed 
 her of all that had passed. " Poor fellow. I know I shall 
 like him, and you may tell Mr. Nordheim that I thank him 
 very much. When will he come up ?" 
 
 " To-morrow." 
 
 " Oh, no. Send him up this afternoon." 
 
 Marion returned to the office, where he found the Count al- 
 ready at work translating some invoices. 
 
 " Count, I have some other work for you to do. The junior 
 partner, Mr. Nordheim, has a relative that he wishes to be 
 taught French and other languages, if she wishes it. You will 
 go there this afternoon. I will give you a note, and you can. 
 commence your instructions immediately." 
 
 " I like that very much, indeed." 
 
 " You will devote all the time necessary to the young lady, 
 and purchase such books as she may need. You will get the 
 money from me. Here is a receipt for you to sign for your 
 first month's wages, and here is fifty dollars ; and I also re- 
 commend you to get a boarding-house without any delay." 
 
 The Count promised to do any and every thing. Marion 
 gave him a letter to the lady at No. 591 Broome street, and he 
 delivered it that day, and then returned to the office. Mr. 
 Wilson did not like the new arrangement. He was intensely 
 English, and hated foreigners, particularly if they had mous- 
 taches. 
 
 " I will make that fellow do more work than he ever did be- 
 fore, but I am sorry he is coming into the office. I don't mind 
 his teaching the young woman, although that is very bad, in a 
 financial point of view." 
 
 The Count selected a boarding-place in John street before 
 night, and gave Marion a very pressing invitation to come and 
 see him. The latter promised to do so the very first oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 " Mr. Monck, I have no words that can express my gratitude 
 to you. Last night I was almost in despair. I meditated 
 suicide. I met you I found rest clothes food nn ' income 
 and a home, and a bright prospect of independence. What 
 can I do for you ? What can I say 1" 
 
 " Say nothing at all, Count. Go to work with a good will
 
 76 VIGOR. 
 
 Teach that young lady all that you know in languages. Be 
 faithful in that quarter, for your income of six hundred dollars 
 is more for what is expected of you there, than for office 
 work." 
 
 " I know that already, Mr. Monck, and rest assured I will 
 teach as no teacher ever taught pupil before, and I will do all 
 that can be found for me to do at the office. God bless you, 
 I say again and again." 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Tom G:'inville's Extravagance Washington Hall, aj.d an cv ni y 
 at a Faro Bank. 
 
 AGREEABLY to the engagement made between old Mrs. Chase 
 and Mr, Pitt Granville, Thomas became a partner of the firm 
 a month after ins marriage. Mr. Nordlieim agreed to it, on 
 one condition, that his share of the profits was to continue the 
 same, viz : one half. It was a generous act on Mr. Granville's 
 part, to relinquish his own half share or any portion of it to 
 his brother, but he did so to what extent was only known to 
 the brothers. The style of the firm remained unchanged. 
 We have already stated that Mr. Granville had rented a house 
 and furnished it previous to the marriage of his brother. To 
 this house, which was located in Chambers street, the new 
 married couple removed on their return from Baltimore. The 
 house was crowded with visitors, for Tom invited every body 
 that he had ever known, to come and see him, and he gave a 
 dinner party every day of the week, and before March had 
 given two large parties at night, and the doings got into the 
 newspapers. Mrs. Thomas Granville became the talk of the 
 town. Tom himself attended to business for about a month, 
 and then he neglected to come to the office until one or two 
 o'clock in the afternoon. His brother remonstrated, and 
 plainly told him that such neglect would be ruinous ; and Tom, 
 to show how he appreciated such brotherly advice, did not 
 come down at all, except it was to draw money. Luckily for 
 the house of Granville & Nordheim, the partnership, so far as 
 Tom was concerned, was a matter between him and his 
 brother. No notice was publicly made, nor was it intended to 
 be until the grandmother of Mr. Tom Granville paid the 
 twenty-five thousand dollars. The way that Tom was going 
 on spending money at the rate of ten thousand dollars a
 
 VIGOR. 77 
 
 year made it pretty certain that the old lady would back out 
 of her promise, for it was not probable that Tom's extrava- 
 gance could long be kept from her. Still the Senior Gran- 
 ville determined to keep his brother within bounds, and 
 agreed to allow him at the rate of two hundred dollars a 
 month, and no more. January and February passed, and Tom 
 rather increased than diminished his expenses, for he told 
 Mr. Granville on the first of March, only two months after his 
 marriage, that he required* a thousand dollars to pay off what 
 he already owed, and that if \V. Pitt Granville would let 
 him have that amount, he would solemnly promise after that 
 to live within two hundred dollars a mouth. Poor Tom. The 
 Elder Granviile gave him the one thousand dollars, but Tom 
 was incurable. He flung away the money by the handful, and 
 did not use the one thousand dollars to pay old claims, but 
 spent it in new extravagancies. 
 
 About a month after the one thousand dollars liad been ad- 
 vanced by one brother, and sqandered by -the oilier, Tom 
 called at the counting room to make a fresh demand. ' It was 
 evening. The next was packet day, and this was called packet 
 night. In these days of steamers, the word may not be under- 
 stood by the reader. In the days of sailing packets, nearly all 
 the foreign merchants kept their offices open the night before 
 a packet sailed for Liverpool, London or Havre, those be- 
 ing the ports to which regular foreign packet lines were 
 established. When Thomas Granville reached the of- 
 fice, he found his brother had left, and was not expected 
 to return. Mr. Nordheim was in the private offipe, 
 and as soon as he became aware that young Granville was 
 there, he came out, and invited him to go in the private room. 
 Tom accepted. When they were alone, Mr. XordHeim kindly 
 inquired after his handsome lady, adding 
 
 " I think you are a very lucky man, Mr. Granville, in secur- 
 ing as a life partner so charming a person." 
 
 Turn said he was satisfied with his choice. 
 
 " I understand, Mr. Granville, that my partner has given 
 you an interest in his partnership, and I was given to undei- 
 stand that you would take an active part in the management 
 of our business." 
 
 Tom replied : 
 
 " I believe something of the kind was talked about, but, I 
 don't like business. I think it a most infernal bore. . My 
 brother thinks I ought to be down here at ten o'clock, but I 
 find it utterly out of the question. I never get up until
 
 78 ' . ' VIGOR. 
 
 twelve, and it talces an hour before I get my breakfast down, 
 consequently it is after two o'clock before I could possibly 
 get to the office. My brother found fault, and I gave up com- 
 ing at all." 
 
 " You do not appear to be as fond of commercial business as 
 my partner. He is always at, his post before nine o'clock." 
 
 " He is, excuse me, a great fool for his pains. No, I don't 
 think business agrees with me, and. I shall cut it." 
 
 " You married a lady of some wealth, I believe." 
 
 " Not a red cent, as yet. She has an old witch of a grand- 
 mother who is as rich as black mud. She is ninety-five, and 
 ought to have died long ago, but really she is so dried up and 
 withered, that I think she may outlive me. When she dies, 
 if the old fool will ever oblige her grandchildren so much as 
 to die, she will cut up well, and my wife will get her slice." 
 
 " Meanwhile, Mr. Granville, how are you to live ? I sup- 
 pose my worthy partner allows you a pretty liberal sum, 
 eh ?" 
 
 " So, so, but I am spending more, much more than my allow- 
 ance of two thousand four hundred dollars, and I came here 
 to-night on a beg disagreeable, is it not ?" 
 
 " Very, Mr. Granville. People say you are one of the most 
 fascinating dogs alive. Is that so ?" t 
 
 " I am overrated, I fear. I never tried to be very fascinat- 
 ing." 
 
 " Now, Mr. Granville, if you were so disposed, you could 
 do me a great favor. I want to get rid of a woman, and if 
 you would exert your fascinations in my favor, with a very 
 beautiful creature, and take her off my hands get me clear 
 of her, I will not only be very grateful, bnt I will, as my 
 worthy man Wilson says, make it an object to you in a financial 
 point of view." 
 
 " Nothing will give me greater pleasure. Your wife, I sup- 
 pose ?" 
 
 " D it, no, man, not so bad as that comes to. No. It is 
 a very beautiful, but terrifically expensive mistress that I 
 have. In a word, I am tired of her. I want to get her off my 
 hands, and yet I will not cut the connexion myself, but if you 
 can gain her affection get her to leave me, and run off with 
 you in such a way that she can have no possible claim upon 
 me, I will give you, as soon as the work is finished, two thou- 
 sand dollars. More than that. If you consent to do what I 
 require, I will give you to-night five hundred dollars to com- 
 mence the war with."
 
 VIGOR. 70 
 
 " I will do it, as sure as my name is Thomas Granville." 
 
 " You will have hard work. She has an easy time of it 
 and every comfort and luxury, and and I think she really 
 loves me ;" and Mr. Nordheini stroked his whiskers with great 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " How am I to get acquainted with her ladyship?" 
 
 " She has a Count Falsechinski, who is a clerk in this office, 
 and who is 'also employed in teaching her French. You must 
 get him to take you there, or Marion Monck. Do it any way 
 you can, except through me. She is very honorable. Were 
 I to introduce you, and you were to make love demonstrations, 
 she would feel called upon to inform me. That will not do. 
 Is it a bargain 1 Will you undertake it 1" 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure ; bat I must have some money 
 immediately. I shall succeed. Have no fear of that. Three 
 months from this I will claim the other fifteen hundred dol- 
 lars perhaps sooner." 
 
 " I have not five hundred dollars with me ; but I will draw 
 a check for the amount, and go with you to the City Hotel, and 
 Jennings will cash it to-night. He has frequently accommo- 
 dated me in that manner after bank hours. 
 
 The check was drawn and signed, and then these two con- 
 spirators left the office in company for the City Hotel. Jen- 
 nings cashed the check. " I am walking up Broadway, and 
 will keep" you company, Granville, if you have no objection." 
 Tom agreed, and on they passed until they came to Chambers 
 street, when Tom invited his companion to go home with him. 
 This was what Mr. Nordheim anxiously desired, and they 
 walked down Chambers street to Tom's residence. When they 
 entered the parlor Mrs. Granville was alone. She bowed to 
 Mr. Nordheim, and then, in a very anxious manner, asked, 
 "Well, did you see your brother ? and with what success?" 
 
 Tom placed a roll in her hand, and replied, " No, Pitt was 
 out, but Mr. Nordheim advanced me what I needed, and jou 
 can thank him for relieving our pressing necessities." 
 
 Kate Granville was somewhat surprised, and she thanked 
 Mr. Nordheim, although somewhat coldly, for she had met 
 him on several occasions, and there was something in his 
 manner that did not please a virtuous wife.* She was afraid 
 of him, and almost wished that Tom could have procured the 
 money somewhere else. But the money must be had, and she 
 took it and used it. 
 
 Tom made no stay at home. Other guests came in, and he 
 left, apologizing to Mr. Nordheim, and saying he would return
 
 80 VIGOR. 
 
 soon. He called Kate out into the hall. As soon as they were 
 alone, she said, 
 
 " No, no, Tom. I know what you want, hut I need every 
 cent to pay what we must pay, or be turned out of house and 
 home, arid be disgraced." 
 
 " Only a hundred, Kate. I must have it. Why, woman, it 
 is mine. I earned it yes, earned it, 
 
 ." Tom, you will lose it at gambling. 1 know you will ; you 
 have no luck, and but here, take it and go ; I must get back 
 into the parlor." 
 
 Tom got into the street, and with a hundred dollars in his 
 pocket. He turned around into Warren street, and into No. 9. 
 
 " Blinn, give me a glass of brandy and water. Has the 
 Count Falsechinski been here yet ?" 
 
 " No, Monsieur Granville. The Count has not been here 
 yet." 
 
 While Tom was sipping his brandy the Count entered : " Ah, 
 Count, I am glad to meet you. What in the name of Lucifer 
 has come over you ? Have you discovered a gold mine, a new 
 tailor, or what is out ?" asked Tom Granville. 
 
 The Count smiled, and' took a seat. In a moment, an idea 
 seemed to flash across Tom's mind, for he asked, " Have you 
 got employment to teach French to a young lady- a Miss Clara 
 Norris^eh ?" 
 
 " And suppose I have, Mr. Tom Granville, have you any 
 objection to my making an honest living !" 
 
 " None in the world, Count, for I like you very much. I 
 knew that this coffee-house is one of your haunts, and that 
 you came here every evening. I had heard of a Count being 
 employed in my brother's office and that he taught French to 
 a very dear friend of my brother's partner, Mr Nordheim, but 
 I did not know that you were that Count. You remember 
 your promise some weeks ago ?' 
 
 " Name it, Mr. Granville." 
 
 " You promised that for a small sum you would teach me 
 how to play with the chances in my favor against a Faro 
 Bank." 
 
 " Excuse me, Mr. Granville with the chances not in 
 your favor. Teft weeks ago, when I made that promise, I was 
 very poor. I needed money, and I was aware that you were 
 losing money every night at a Faro Bank. I could have saved 
 you from losing, but you did not avail yourself of my offer. I am 
 in different circumstances to-night, and I might decline your 
 offer, but I will not. But I must do one thing. I assist you
 
 VIGOR. 81 
 
 to-night. I will dictate my terms. First answer me this 
 question : how much money have you in your pocket to lose 
 to-night? Precisely, tell meV 
 
 " That is a queer question, Count. But I will answer it. 
 One hundred dollars : no more, or no less." 
 
 " Now I will tell you what I will do. Give rae 
 that money in my own hand. You can come with me 
 to Washington Hall to the Faro Bank room. I will play for 
 you, with your money. If I lose it, you -are not to say a word. 
 If I win, you will follow me out, and I will pay you one-half of 
 the winnings." 
 
 " But, Count, that is rather severe. I put up the money, 
 lose it, if it is lost, and if it wins only get one-half. Oh, no." 
 
 " Very well. Then I will not play for you. I put up my 
 experiences against you with your money. It is worth more 
 than your money if I win, as you know. Say no more. Those 
 are my terms." 
 
 " There, Count, try it. Here, take the hundred dollars ; but 
 I will go with you, and if I say stop, or" 
 
 " If you say one word to me. I will knock you down." 
 
 " Why, Count, what is the matter with you ?" 
 
 " Nothing at all. Remember, not a word to me, for I will 
 not only strike you, but I will deny that I have received a 
 cent from you and call you a liar ; and, Mr. Tom Granville, 
 the word of the Count Adolph Falsecliinski with money in 
 his pocket, will outweigh the oaths of Mr. Tom Granville, 
 penniless as you are now. Trust me as a gentleman, and half 
 the winnings are yours. If wo miss each other when we leave 
 the gambling table, I will come directly here. Do you fol- 
 low." 
 
 The Count had the hundred dollars, and the conditions 
 were arranged. Then the Count ordered a strong cup of 
 coffee, and the pair left the French coffee-house for Washing- 
 ton Hall, then the headquarters of fashionable young New 
 York John Mariner kept it then. It has long ago been torn 
 down and its site occupied by Stewart's great dry-goods store. 
 The Count and Tom went into the bar-room. Several of their 
 acquaintances were there, and they all took a drink at the 
 Count's expense. As Tom Granville kept near the Count, the 
 latter whispered, " Don't come near me, or speak to me again, 
 until we meet at the French coffee-house. Don't go to the 
 Faro table with me. Keep by youself. 5 ' 
 
 The Count shortly afterward separated from the party who 
 had drank at his expense, and quietly slipped into the great
 
 82 VIGOR. 
 
 hall, and then passed to the third floor, and on the right hand 
 side, knocked at a green baize door. A question was asked by 
 some one inside. The Count replied, and his answer appeared 
 tp be satisfactory, for the door was opened just sufficiently 
 wide to admit him. When he had entered, the door was closed 
 and fastened. There were two large rooms, separated only by 
 large folding doors. In one of the rooms were several tables, 
 and surrounding them were parties of two or more engaged in 
 card-playing. In the other room was a long table. To this 
 the Count approached. Twenty more persons were seated 
 about it. One man, to whom the Count bowed, was dealing 
 from a small silver box. On the table before the dealer, cov- 
 ering nearly the whole table, was a suit of cards, commencing 
 with the ace and ending with the king. By the side of the 
 dealer was a man who acted as banker or treasurer. He had 
 a box filled with piles of white, red and purple chips. Each 
 white chip was worth one dollar. The reds were fives, and 
 the purples twenty dollars each. Another person sat close by 
 the cashier, with a little box filled with white and black checks 
 on wires. As a card was dealt, he moved a corresponding 
 check in the little box. This was the man who kept the game. 
 The play was running high, piles of red chips were upon the 
 cards, and the luck seemed to favor the bank, for the dealer 
 raked pile after pile of the red chips towards him, and then 
 deliberately restacked them in the mahogany box. Presently 
 Mr. Granville entered. The Couijt was still standing up. He 
 did not notice him. The play went on. One and then ano- 
 ther, left the room had lost all. Their faces were haggard 
 and despairing. The Count smiled. He was not ready to 
 play yet. He was noticing one man, behind whose seat he 
 stood. He seemed scarcely conscious of any thing. He placed 
 a pile of red chips upon the ace ; the cards were dealt. He 
 had lost. He rose from his seat, and with horrid curses and 
 imprecations upon himself, cards, and every thing else, left 
 the room. The Count took the seat left vacant by this person, 
 who had lost fifteen hundred dollars in half an hour. 
 
 " Hand me a hundred dollars' worth of red chips, if you 
 please," said the Count and as they were delivered to him he 
 deliberately counted twenty, and piled them up before him. A 
 new deal commenced. The Count placed a red chip on the ace 
 another on the seven-spot. It was some time before either 
 turned up. He was a winner. Meanwhile the Count had 
 watched other cards ; the king had been dealt out three times 
 and the deuce-spot twice. He placed ten red chips on the
 
 VIGOR. 83 
 
 king and five on the deuce. The king won. He had doubled 
 ten red chips. The deuce won. The Count then placed twen- 
 ty red chips upon the last deuce ; it was a bet, and won. He 
 looked at the game board there was but. one five spot in. All 
 the rest had won for the bank. The Count placed fifty red 
 chips upon it, and won. That deal was over, and the Count 
 piled up his winnings, but was perfectly cool. There was no 
 limit to the betting allowed at that faro bank. If it bet fifty 
 thousand dollars, it would be good. ' 
 
 Another deal began. The Count scattered one or two chips 
 on different cards and they won and lost, until he noticed that 
 but two aces one seven and one ten were left in the dealer's 
 box. He put down five piles each of twenty red chips on the 
 ace, and won. He was paid in purple chips. He left all the 
 purple chips on the ace again, and it won. There was but one 
 turn more, and the Count placed five hundred dollars on it. It 
 won. Another deal followed, and the Count played heavier 
 yet. When there was but one ace left in the box, he placed 
 fifteen hundred dollars upon it. 
 
 " That is my la^t play to-night," said the Count sternly. 
 
 The cards were dealt. 
 
 " He has won," said Samuel and so he had. 
 
 " Pay me," said the Count, and he received from the smil- 
 ing banker four thousand two hundred dollars, and it was paid 
 as pleasantly as though he would not have cared if it had been 
 four hundred and twenty thousand dollars. 
 
 The Count placed the money about his person, waited a few 
 moments, looked at >hose who continued to play, and then left 
 the room and descended to the bar-room. Several gentlemen 
 who were broke followed him, and begged a small loan. 
 
 " No, it is not my money," said the Count. 
 
 In the bar-room he asked several up to drink. Then Gran- 
 ville came up, expecting of course to be invited. 
 
 '" If you drink, let it be at your own expense, Mr. Gran- 
 ville," quietly observed the Count. 
 
 Tom took the hint and sheered off. After the drinks had 
 been settled for, the Count walked slowly to the French cof- 
 fee house in Warren street. As he entered, he saw Tom 
 Granville with a glass of brandy before him. The Count took 
 a seat opposite to him. 
 
 " You are lucky to-night, Count," remarked Tom Gran- 
 ville. 
 
 " I played my own game, sir," replied the Count. 
 
 " You must have won a couple of thousand dollars.^'
 
 84 VIGOR. 
 
 Tom had got so eseited before the last deal that he had de- 
 scended to the b;)r-roorn to get cool, and was not present when 
 the Count placed fifteen hundred dollars on on card. 
 
 The Count placed roll after roll of money on ihe table. 
 
 " Hands off!" he exclaimed, as Tom put out a hand to clutch 
 some. 
 
 The Count then counted it, for there were three bills of 
 one thousand dollars each. 
 
 " Four thousand two hundred," said the Count. 
 
 Tom Granville ordered another glass of brandy. 
 
 " Four thousand two hundred,'' repeated the Count " and 
 your share is twenty -one hundred dollars," and he handed him 
 the precise amount. 
 
 " Waiter, bring me a cup of coffee and a cigar." He lit the 
 latter, and turning his face to Tom, quietly asked, " What was 
 your meaning to-night, when you asked if I was the Count who 
 was teaching French to Miss Norris ?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing in particular. Count, how can I express my 
 gratitude for this sum of money ?" 
 
 " By saying no more about it. It is but a trifle, Tom 
 Granville." 
 
 " I suppose you will now play on your own hook and win 
 a good deal more." 
 
 " You never was more mistaken in your life. I never play 
 at faro when I have plenty of money. [ only play with my 
 last dollar, or when I have other people's money to lose or win 
 with. What do you want to know about Miss Norris ?" 
 
 " I hear she is very pretty. I shoulol.Jike amazingly to get 
 acquainted with her." 
 
 The Count laid down his cigar, and gazed into the face of 
 Tom for a minute ere he replied, 
 
 " I will take you there." 
 
 " When ?" asked Tom. 
 
 <; Now to-night. It is not late, and as you are a good mu- 
 sician, we will have music, and a gay time of it." 
 
 At twelve that night, if Mr. Nordheim had called upon Miss 
 Norris, he would have had the pleasure of listening to a deli- 
 cious concert. Clara played the piano, the Count accompanied 
 her with the guitar, and Tom Granville, who would have made 
 money as a tenor singer in opera, sang some of the sweetest 
 songs in the English language ; and in some few both the Count 
 and Clara joined. 
 
 The Count, from some hidden motive, told a little anecdote, 
 how Toin had lent him one hundred dollars, and how he had
 
 VIGOR. 85 
 
 employed it ; nnd added, " My share was twenty-one hundred 
 dollars, and Mr. Grauville has an equal amount in his pocket. 
 I think, Miss Clara, you ought to teach him how to spe;id it." 
 What was the object of the Count ? 
 
 Miss Norris regarded Tom as "a flat, and she determined to 
 take the Count's advico. She led Tom on s>o far as to promise 
 that he would take a private box and accompany her to the 
 Park Theatre the next evening. 
 
 The two gentlemen left the house together ; and as they 
 came down town, the Count told Tom that he had evidently 
 made an impression upon Miss Norris, and advised him to fol- 
 low it up. What was the Count driving at ? 
 
 The Count saw Tom safe at his own house, and saw him en- 
 ter ; then he walked down to his own rooms in John street, 
 and enjoyed a good night's repose. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Primr, Ward <J- King Teaching French The Thousand Dollar Bill 
 The Park Thutre. 
 
 THE morning following the successful gambling operation of 
 the Count at Washington Hall was a delicious April morning. 
 Eight o'clock found the Count Falsechinski at the counting- 
 house of his employers. Mr. Wilson had already arrived and 
 opened the safe. The Count volunteered to assist him in' 
 transferring the massive ledger and journal and other books of 
 a great commercial firm to the long mahogany desk occupied 
 by the book-keeper. When the work was done, Mr. Wilson 
 thanked the Count, who asked, " What shall I commence do- 
 ing ?" The Count wrote a hand that was almost like copy 
 right. Wilson had become aware of the fact. 
 
 " If you have no particular objection, Count, I will get you 
 to assist me in the books. You can copy my day entries into 
 the journal." 
 
 Mr. Wilson showed him how it was to be done, and the 
 Count cheerfully went to work. The stock of the Count ad- 
 vanced fifty per cent, that morning in Wilson's mind. After 
 some little time had elapsed while working, the Count asked 
 Mr. Wilson to name to him the most responsible private bank- 
 ers in the city. 
 
 " I have not much to deposit with them, but I have this 
 small amount that I should like to have placed iu safe hands,
 
 86 VIGOR. 
 
 where it would be drawing interest," and the Count laid down 
 on the desk two thousand dollars. He took out one hundred 
 dollars. " This 1 will keep. The two thousand dollars I wish 
 to keep at the bankers." 
 
 " Prime, Ward & Kins, No. 42 Wall street, are the firmest 
 bankers. I would recommend them, but I am not certain 
 that they will take your account. Who could you get to go and 
 introduce you to them ?" 
 
 " 1 know of no one," replied the Count. 
 
 " Then, Count, 1 will tell you what I will do. Their book- 
 keeper, Charles Christmas, is a particular friend of mine, and 
 I flatter myself that my introduction to him will be as good an 
 opening as you could have. I will vouch for you, Count. 
 About ten o'clock, if you will go with me to that banking 
 house, I will do the needful, and get an account opened with 
 you by that firm." 
 
 When Marion arrived, he was somewhat surprissd to see the 
 Count and Mr. Wilson on such familiar terms, and he was 
 rather pleased than otherwise. 
 
 The bankers alluded to, Prime, Ward & King, were at that 
 time regarded by the commercial community here, and, in fact, 
 in every city of the Union, as the most solid house on this con- 
 tinent. Their bills of exchange on London or Paris would 
 bring one per cent, higher han any commercial firm. The 
 partners of this celebrated house were men of originality. The 
 senior was old " Nat Prime," as he was familiarly designated. 
 He started life in a 'humble capacity, and rose to be the head 
 of a great banking house. His residence for many years was 
 at No. 1 Broadway, now occupied as a hotel. "Sam Ward," 
 the second partner, built a house on the corner of Fourth 
 street and Broadway, and added to it a gallery of paintings, 
 that was the wonder of the people in that day. James Gore 
 King, the junior partner, was born in England, where his fath- 
 er, Kufus King, was Ambassador from the United States to 
 Great Britain. He was named after James Gore, a celebrated 
 merchant. All these partners died long ago. The Count and 
 Mr. Wilson went to the banking office of this firm. Wilson in- 
 troduced the Count to the book-keeper with a request that he 
 willingly complied with. In a word, the Count was intro- 
 duced to Mr. Ward, one of the partners, his account was re- 
 ceived, and he deposited two thousand dollars, and wrote his 
 signature upon the signature book. He also received a bank 
 book, on the leather cover of which was printed Prime, Ward 
 & King in account with, and written underneath, the Count
 
 VIGOR. 87 
 
 Adolph Falsechinski, and inside he was credited April fourth 
 with two thousand dollars, bearing interest at four per cent, 
 per annum. When this was all done, the Count took his 
 leave, but not until he had made a very favorable impression 
 upon Mr. Ward, who begged to serve him in any manner. The 
 Count was a deep planner, and knew the world. In opening 
 an account with Prime, Ward & King, and getting one of their 
 bank books with the name of Count Adolph Falsechinski upon 
 it, and a sum to his credit, he had procured a credit, a conse- 
 quence, an endorsement, backers, position that would be val- 
 uable in any part of the Union. There was no disputing it. 
 It was worth more than a reference, for either of the partners 
 would have said they knew nothing of the Count. An author- 
 ized banking book, with a credit-of cash in with so respectable 
 a flrm, told its own story. It was the best kind of a reference. 
 The Count had his opinion of it. It was near twelve o'clock 
 when all this was completed, and the Count, instead of return- 
 ing to the counting house, parted from Mr. Wilson, and went 
 to Broome street to give a French lesson to Miss Norris. 
 
 He found Tom Granville already there. Miss Norris re- 
 ceived the lesson, which occupied nearly two hours. Tom re- 
 mained quiet until it was finished, and then insisted that Clara 
 should read French with him an hour. Tom was a good French 
 scholar, for he had in early life resided two years in France. 
 
 " By-and-by. I will not now. I want to scold the Count for 
 not coming earlier. I waited for you two hours this morning." 
 
 " I am sorry for that, Miss Clara. I will be more punctual 
 in future, but the fact is, I was obliged to visit my bankers, 
 Prime, Ward & King, this morning," here he displayed care- 
 lessly his bank book, " and I was detained talking with Mr. 
 Ward longer than I expected." 
 
 Tom opened his eyes, and even Miss Clara felt a greater re- 
 spect for her teacher. Here was more mystery. A count, and 
 a book account with Prime, Ward & King. 
 
 " Count, Mr. Granville has secured a private box at the Park 
 Theatre to-night. Shall we have the pleasure of your com- 
 pany ? You will be welcome." 
 
 " What is the novelty ? What is to be played 1" 
 
 " The Opera of La Somnambula. Mr. and Mrs. Wood and Mr. 
 Brough, with his magnificent bass, all appear in it." 
 
 " I shall accept your invitation with pleasure. I knew the 
 Woods in London." 
 
 " The deuce you did. Tell us all about them, Count. Is 
 Mrs. Wood his wife ?"
 
 88 VIGOR. 
 
 " To be sure she is, but she was divorced from her first 
 husband, who was Lord Lennox. Lady Lennox procured a 
 divorce, and then married the tenor Wood. Lord Lennox used 
 to beat her, it was said. I must go now, but will be here pre- 
 cisely at seven o'clock to accompany you to the theatre." 
 
 " Mr. Granville," said the fascinating Clara, after the Count 
 had gone, " how much have you left of the two thousand dollars 
 you won last night ? They say you are a terrible fellow to 
 spend money. I dare say you have spent it all." 
 
 " No, I have not. I have had no chance. See, here it is. 
 Count it." 
 
 Clara did as she was desired to do. She took a thousand 
 dollar bill. " Tom, I will be your banker, and keep this for 
 safety. You will squander it. It will do you no real good. 
 With me it will be quite safe." 
 
 Tom looked anxiously 
 
 " What, afraid of me ! Here, take your old trash. What I 
 proposed was for your own good, and you know it well," and 
 the fair girl pouted as though she was angry in earnest. 
 
 " My dear Miss Norris, you entirely mistook me. Keep it, 
 by all means. I have the most perfect confidence in you. In- 
 deed, I insist you shall be my banker." 
 
 In the struggle to force her to keep it, her face came near 
 Tom's, and he kissed her. 
 
 " You naughty man. That is the first time I have been 
 kissed, except by Mr. Nordheim, since I was a country girl. 
 I do not see how you dared to do it. I will take good care of 
 this money, if you wish it, but really, I had rather you 
 would take it back." 
 
 But no, Tom Granville would not consent to do any thing of 
 the kind. 
 
 " Very well, then, I will keep it safe, and you can have it 
 whenever you wish. I should serve you perfectly right if I nev- 
 er gave it back to you. It was very wrong for you to kiss mo. 
 What would Mr. Nordheim say, if he knew it ? But to show 
 you that I forgive you, I will read French with you an hour, 
 and then I must go, for I expect Mr. Nordheim, and he must 
 not see you here." 
 
 Clara procured a book of French plays, and lay down on the 
 lounge. Tom drew an ottoman near her head, and they read 
 together. Tom was completely lost. That reading finished 
 him. He was madly in love with Clara Norris. She saw it 
 her pride was gratified, and she allowed him more kisses, and 
 when he left he was perfectly insane about her. Wife, brother,
 
 VIGOR. 89 
 
 business, all were forgotten. No sooner Lad he passed into 
 the street than Clara took from her bosom the thousand dollar 
 bill. Then she walked to a black walnut bureau, unlocked a 
 small drawer, and took from it a bank book. Outside on the 
 cover was marked " The American Savings Bank in account 
 with Miss Clara Norris." She opened it, and read off various 
 sums. Five dollars, ten, fifty, eight, twelve, thirty-two, fifty, 
 seventy-five, one hundred, two hundred. 
 
 " Very good. This is a changing world. We do not know 
 what may happen. Mr. Nordheim thinks I am very extrava- 
 gant. So I am this book says I have already squandered in 
 that Savings Bank eleven hundred dollars ;" and she rang the 
 bell. The colored girl answered it. 
 
 " Cheeky, I am going out to be gone an hour. If Mr. Nord- 
 heim calls, say that if he will walk down Broadway to Slew- 
 art's dry goods store, he will meet me coming up." 
 
 The lady went out. In less than an hour she returned, and 
 took the same book from her bosom. Another one thousand 
 dollars .had been placed to her credit ; and she carefully locked 
 the book in the drawer, and placed the key around her neck. 
 
 " Now I must dress for the opera to-night. What will Nord- 
 heim say ? But Tom Granville is brother to his partner. 
 Surely he can't object to my going with him and if he does ? 
 What a fool Tom Granville is ! And yet I rather like him. 
 So I do my mocking bird Marion. But that Count heigho ! 
 I wish I knew his history it must be a strange one." 
 
 There was a curious grouping of people in the old Park 
 Theatre that night. Stephen Price was the manager, assisted 
 by quiet Simpson. The Woods were cramming the house every 
 night, and the treasury was overflowing. On this particular 
 day the Woods had dined with Mr. Granville at his residence 
 in State street, for he had been very kind to them, and was 
 their banker. Colonel Mac Neil was at the dinner, and one or 
 two more. Mr. Wood insisted upon placing a private box at 
 the disposal of Mr. Granville and his family, and the offer was 
 accepted. 
 
 Mr. Nordheim had also secured a front bench in the dress 
 circle. He had invited Mrs. Tom Granville and her sister Miss 
 Madison Pinckney to go with him He knew that Walter 
 Granville lo\vd the latter, and so to have Mrs. Tom all to him- 
 self, he invited Walter to go with him. 
 
 Mrs. Nordheim, the day previous, had expressed a wish to 
 hear the Woods, and Marion had been able to secure three 
 prominent seats and he invited his old friend Wilson to take
 
 90 VIGOR. 
 
 tea in Bond street, and then go with Mrs. Nordheim and him- 
 self to the theatre. This was agreed to. 
 
 When the curtain rose that night, the pit, the dress circle 
 and the galleries presented from the foot-lights one sea of hu- 
 man heads, and they were all in raptures with the perform- 
 ance. Brough sang " My Boyhood's Home " as it never has 
 been sung since, and Mrs. Wood enchanted the audience with 
 " False one, I love Thee Still." 
 
 When the curtain descended, people began to look about 
 them. Marion was the first to utter an exclamation of sur- 
 prise. The front seats occupied by his party were directly 
 opposite the centre of the stage. A little to the left was Mr. 
 Nordheim, Mrs. Kate Granville, Walter Granville, and Miss 
 Madison Pinckney. On the right hand stage private box was 
 Mr. Granville and his family, including Col. Mac Neil, and in 
 the opposite box was Mr. Thomas Granville, the Count False- 
 chinski, and Miss Clara Norris. Mr. Nordheim smiled, and 
 came around and spoke to his wife. Marion, when Mr. Nord- 
 heim had left, pointed out Miss Norris to Mrs. Nordheim. 
 The only person who felt particularly foolish was Tom Gran- 
 ville. Mr. Nordheim informed Mrs. Tom who the lady was 
 that Master Tom had chartered a private box to accommodate. 
 The eyes of the brilliant Kate flashed fire. She felt humili- 
 ated and disgraced, the more so, as Mr. 'Nordheim expressed 
 the deepest sympathy, and mentioned the fact that the senior 
 Granville and his party had been informed that Torn was in 
 company with a kept mistress, and that it must be very annoy- 
 ing to his brother ! Poor Kate ! Her love was fast changing 
 to contempt ; and Tom was more confirmed in his mad love for 
 the beautiful woman by his side, as he noticed the withering 
 glances that were bestowed upon her by those nearest and 
 dearest to him. Isabella Granville leaned on the front of the 
 box, and attracted universal admiration. Marion seemed par- 
 ticularly struck with her loveliness, and made some very en- 
 thusiastic remarks in her favor to Mrs. Nordheim. She sighed, 
 and in a tone of voice that was overheard by honest, tender- 
 hearted Wilson, remarked, 
 
 " Have a care, dear Marion ; don't fall in love with that 
 trifler, or you will feel more sorrow than you ever yet have 
 known." 
 
 Wilson seemed struck by the sigh and the remark with a 
 new idea, and he turned his eyes from the one to the other,.but 
 he did not say what he thought of it, even in " a financial point 
 of view."
 
 VIGOR. 91 
 
 Walter Granville did the worst thing he could have done. 
 He tried to escape the observation of his father, and yet not 
 actually neglect the fair Miss Pinckney by his side. It was of 
 no use, for the senior Granville had a pair of eagle eyes, and 
 his course was decided upon in his own mind. 
 
 At last the opera was finished. Tom and the Count went to 
 a supper party at a Broadway Saloon. The rest of those that 
 we have grouped together returned to their homes. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A Marriage Arranged Departure of Walter Granville Death of Mrs. 
 Pitt Granville. 
 
 IT is not our purpose to write a philosophical work; if that were 
 the case, we might philosophise upon the foolish but notorious 
 fact, that a majority of parents, especially those who are pos- 
 sessed of wealth and aristocratically descended, or in position, 
 deem it a parental right to interfere in the marriages of their 
 children, and if these children happen to form any attachment, 
 and the object of such attachment does not happen to come up 
 to the parents' standard of the husband or wife, they have ar- 
 ranged for their child, they or one of the parents goes to work 
 to break it off. 
 
 Walter Granville was an only son. His father was most 
 anxious that he should tread his own footprints, and be able to 
 succeed him in business, and to keep the name of Granville 
 in the commercial world for another century at least. The 
 father had given him a good education, and "Master Wal- 
 ter" had recently graduated at Columbia College, with consid- 
 erable credit to himself. It was now the purpose of the 
 father to place his son in the counting-room, and to have him 
 settle down in life, as he termed it. He had determined that 
 Walter should marry at once. True, he was not out of his 
 teens, but that fact was of no importance to the senior Grau- 
 ville. He had a horror of Walter falling in love with any 
 voung woman that he, the father, did not deem a suitable 
 connection. He had been driven almost to madness for 
 several months, by haying hints given him, that Walter was 
 in love, and engaged to Miss Madison Pinckne}-. True, she 
 was a very beautiful and a very accomplished girl. That is 
 all very well so far as it goes, but to a mind like old Gran-
 
 92 VIGOR. 
 
 ville's, there was nothing tangible c'ther in beauty or ac- 
 complishments. He wished for his son's wife., something more 
 reliable. He could give a business and settle money on his 
 son, and in choosing a wife for him, he wanted the other side of 
 the house to be able to do the same thing. He had other 
 objections to a marriage between Walter and Miss Madison 
 Pinckney. His brother had married oue of the sisters, and one 
 of the family was quite sufficient, as there was no money 
 and never might be any. It all depended upon the caprice 
 of a " mean, mad, woman" as Tom designated the grand- 
 mother of his wife. 
 
 " If Walter will marry, I have a girl in view, that he shall 
 marry, and I will make him do it at once, or know the reason 
 why." Thus spoke Pitt Granville to himself. The party that 
 he had fixed upon was Miss Margaret Benson, the daughter of 
 Colonel Benson, and one of the bridesmaids at the wedding of 
 Kate Pinckney. 
 
 Colonel Benson had served in the English army, but he had 
 married an American widow lady of wealth, who owned a 
 plantation and several hundred negroes on Ashley River, near 
 Charleston, South Carolina. He had resigned his commission 
 in the British service and settled in New York, where he be- 
 came a special partner in a ccxnmercial firm, largely engaged 
 in the English trade. Tlie Colonel held some sort of special 
 agancy for the British Government, which gave him no small 
 income. His wife had one son by her first husband, whose 
 name was Glen Hammond. The latter was a wild haruin 
 scarum fellow, who was travelling in Europe. By Colonel 
 Benson she had two children, a son and a daughter. 
 
 The name of the son was Middleton Benson. He was 
 nearly of age, and was devoted to business, being engaged 
 as a clerk where his father was a special partner. The daugh- 
 ter Margaret was a tall, dign'ified girl of eighteen years of age, 
 very haughty, and proud of her descent and her position. She 
 worshiped her father and was not likely to fall in love with any 
 man. except such a one as her father would approve. 
 
 Colonel Benson and Mr. Granville were on the most intimate 
 terms. If the latter had needed for any sudden emergency half 
 a hundred thousand dollars, the Colonel would let him have it 
 any day before three o'clock. They dined, supped arid made 
 excursions together, and almost every evening if one did not 
 come to the the house of the other, that other was sure to know 
 the reason. The marriage of Walter and Margaret, had often 
 been a topic of conversation between these two fathers. But
 
 VIGOR. I J 
 
 while Walter was at college, there was no need of being in a 
 hurry. But the public attentions of Walter to Miss Pinckney 
 at, the Park Theatre had brought matters to a climax, so far as 
 Mr. Granville was concerned, and the next morning he sent a 
 note to Colonel Benson, asking him to dine in State street that 
 day. The result of that dinner was, that Mr. Granville 
 agreed to place Walter in business as soon as he was of age to 
 settle immediately upon him, real estate that should produce 
 two thousand dollars clear income, and the Colonel agreed to 
 give his daughter a house, and furnish it, and settle upon her 
 and her children the income of thirty thousand dollars, two 
 thousand dollars a year addition, and these conditions were to 
 be complied with at once, and the marriage to take place 
 without any delay. Both parents shook hands cordially when 
 these preliminaries had been arranged, and then they agreed 
 to drink an extra bottle of choice old Madeira to the health 
 and prosperity of the ' to be' married couple. 
 
 The same evening Mr. Granville called Walter to his 
 room, and informed him of what he had done to settle him for 
 life. Walter listened, but did not say a word until his father 
 had amplified and explained all the advantages of the match ; 
 he concluded, " Now, Walter, I want to hear your opinion." 
 
 " My opinion or wishes seem to have been little consulted." 
 
 " You do not mean to say that you are not pleased with the 
 arrangement I have made for you ?" 
 
 "Has Margaret Benson been consulted? Is she aware of 
 the honor about to be conferred on her ?" 
 
 " What in the world has she got to do with the matter, so 
 far as we are concerned ? Her father will arrange with her. 
 It is my duty to attend to your welfare and happiness. Now, 
 Walter, speak out like a man. Don't have any foolish modes- 
 ty. Of course you authorize me to say to Colonel Benson that 
 you are delighted with the prospect, and all that sort of thing, 
 eh, Walter ?" 
 
 " Father, I believe you love me. I do not think you have 
 any thing nearer to your heart than my happiness. Is it not 
 BO ?'' 
 
 " Of course it is, my boy. I love you better than I do my- 
 self and I flatter myself that if any proof were wanting that 
 I love and care for you, this arrangement between Colonel 
 Benson and myself made this afternoon, is enough to convince 
 you of the f;ct." 
 
 " Father I cannot marry Margaret, Benson I do not love 
 her."
 
 94 VIGOR. 
 
 " Pooh, pooh, is that all ? You will soon learn to do so. 
 You must marry her I have given my word." 
 
 " There is still another reason. I love another, and I have 
 promised to marry that other." 
 
 "You have! I think, Master AValter, that I have one or' 
 two words to say about that. You mean Madison Pinckney. 
 She has not got a cent, and is very extravagant, or will be so, 
 if she ever gets a chance. No, no, Walter drop all such non- 
 sense. I will give you until to-morrow before I go to dine with 
 Colonel Benson to think it over, and then I think you will do 
 as I wish." 
 
 " Father, let it he settled now. I cannot give up Miss 
 Pinckney, and I will not. My word is given toher. and my 
 affections also. If you do not sanction my marriage with her, 
 I must do without it, or wait until you do. I will not marry 
 Miss Benson under any circumstances. I do not love her, nor 
 could I have done so, had my love to Miss Pinckney never ex- 
 isted." 
 
 " Now hear me, Walter Granville. From this moment I 
 disown you as entirely as if you had never been born. Go cut 
 of this house forever. Go and marry Miss Pinckney to-morrow 
 if you choose, or go to the devil. You have disobeyed your 
 father, and I will disinherit you. You have mortified me be- 
 yond measure. How can I look Colonel Benson in the face ? 
 You need not go penniless. Take this money." 
 
 Walter took it, and then flung it upon the floor. 
 
 *' Perish your money I want none of it, and I will get out 
 of the house before an hour. I merely wish to bid my mother 
 and my sister good-bye and farewell, Sir. The day may come 
 when you will regret this harsh treatment." 
 
 " Never, sir. If you should change your mind, and come 
 back obedient to my wishes, you will be my son once more. 
 Until that day comes, I care not to see you again. Begone !" 
 
 Walter Granville bowed and left the room. He was not long 
 in packing a trunk with clothing. That done, he went to his 
 mother, who was an invalid. What passed between mother 
 and son is only known to them. Isabella was not at home. .An 
 hour after a hack conveyed Walter and his trunks to the City 
 Hotel. He selected a room, and then hurried up to Chambers 
 street to his Aunt Kate's. Mudison Pinckney he felt could 
 sympathize with him. He found her alone. 
 
 Walter had yet to learn another lesson. Madison Piuckney 
 was perfectly cool and very calm, while Walter, whose mind
 
 VIGOR. 95 
 
 was frenzied, narrated all that had passed. At last Miss Madi-"' 
 son spoke. 
 
 " You are a silly boy, Walter. Quarrelled with your father, 
 and he has turned you out of doors." 
 
 " It was for your sake, dearest Madison. I could not marry 
 Margaret Benson and continue to love you." 
 
 " And pray, who wished that you should ] But, Walter, 
 you certainly have no idea that I am such an immense simple- 
 ton as to dream of marrying you, after "you have been cat 
 adrift by your father. I would do nothing of the kind. We 
 would starve ia six weeks. Love is very fine if you have 
 money or business enough to keep house and be comfortable. 
 Now I advise you to forget me as quick as possible, for if your 
 father has fairly made up his mind against me, and in favor of 
 another young lady as your wife, further words are useless. 
 He is not a man to change, and although as his son, you are of 
 some account in the world, yet cast off by him I don't know 
 what you will do." 
 
 " But, Madison," exclaimed poor Walter, who was com- 
 pletely heart-broken, "your letters your caresses your 
 promise your '' 
 
 " Do, for mercy's sake, stop repeating that lover's cata- 
 logue. I dare say I have been very foolish, but I did not 
 dream that your father would oppose your marriage with me. 
 Now be a good boy. My advice is to go to your papa. Tell 
 him you have been to see me, and that you have told me that 
 you cannot marry me, and promise your father that you will 
 marry Miss Benson any day that you are called upon to do 
 so." 
 
 " My dream is over," exclaimed Walter. " Past gone." 
 
 " That is right, Walter. Wake up and get over dreams as 
 soon as possible. They are extremely unhealthy, and make 
 people nervous. Come and see me as a friend any time that 
 you have leisure. I must say good-night, now," and she left 
 the room. Walter seized his hat and hurried back to the City 
 Hotel. He was enraged and mortified at himself. He did not 
 go home to State street again. That evening he met with a wild 
 young fellow that he had known for some years a regular 
 New York boy. 
 
 " I'm off to morrow," said Charley King. 
 
 " Where to ?" enquired Walter. 
 
 " On board a whaler bound round the Horn." 
 
 " Could I get any berth aboard ?"
 
 96 VIGOR. 
 
 " Certainly ; and the skipper would be glad to get you.' 
 Have you got any money ?" 
 
 "Plenty." 
 
 " Then let's have a regular night of it " 
 
 Walter agreed. They visited every drinking place as long 
 as any was open, and then returned to Walter's room. The 
 next day Walter had shipped for a whaling voyage. The ship 
 Dorothea went to sea the next day, and it was many months 
 before Mr. Grunville ascertained what had become of his 
 son. 
 
 Meanwhile Mrs. Granville became worse. The loss of Wal- 
 ter preyed upon her mind, and her strength failed daily. May 
 arrived, and one morning Mr. Granville did not come to the 
 office. It was whispered that Mrs. Granville was worse dy- 
 ing. Then a note came for Marion Monck to come at once to 
 State street. When he arrived, the servant said he had orders 
 to show him up to Mrs. Granville's sick room, where Mr. 
 Granville was. He entered the room. The proud merchant 
 was weeping and kneeling by the bed, with a hand of his wife 
 in his. Isabella, too, was sobbing as though her heart would 
 break. Marion was about to retire from so sacred a scene 
 when the eyes of the dying woman fell upon him. " Come 
 here, Marion," she whispered, " give me your hand, and prom- 
 ise me that you will be' a faithful friend to my two children, 
 and find the lost one, and tell him his mother blessed him be- 
 fore she died." Marion promised. " They will need a true 
 friend some day. BJ a brother to my poor Isabella. God 
 bless you." Marion left the room, but not the house. He re- 
 mained in the parlor. Some time elapsed, and then Mr. Gran- 
 ville came into the room, still sobbing. 
 
 " It is all over. She is dead. Close the office, and then 
 come back for further directions. Biing Mr. Wilson down with 
 you."
 
 VIGOR. 97 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The Cholera Summer Changes. 
 
 THE funeral of Mrs. Pitt Granville was plain and simple, 
 and according to the English mode. She was buried in a vault 
 belonging to Mr. Granville, in St. Thomas' Church Yard. The 
 office was closed the day she died and the day the funeral was 
 celebrated. All the connexions went into deep mourning, and 
 for a few days Mr. Granville forgot his usual gaiety. The 
 spring months passed away, and then came the summer, that 
 terrible summer when the Asiatic cholera made its first ap- 
 pearance in New York. What a scattering of people when 
 the facts became apparent that the long dreaded scourge was 
 here ! Mr. Granville took his daughter to the residence of 
 Colonel Benson after Mrs. Granville's death, and when the 
 cholera broke out she was with Colonel Benson and his 
 daughter at Niagara Falls. 
 
 Mr. Nordheim closed up his house in Bond street, and found 
 a refuge for his wife at the village cf Woodbury, some twenty 
 miles north of New Haven, Connecticut. He did not remain 
 but a week with his wife, and then started off on a tour of 
 pleasure. Mrs. Tom Granville and her .sister went to Saratoga, 
 while Tom accompanied Clara Norris to her early home in 
 Sussex County, New Jersey. 
 
 Mr. Granvilie concluded not to leave the city, and his ex- 
 ample was followed by Mr. Wilson, the Count Falsechinski, 
 and Marion Monck. Although the Count continued his lessons 
 daily to Miss Norris up to the day of her departure, yet he 
 had regarded them as a secondary affair. Save when absent 
 to give these lessons, he had devoted every hour to business. 
 He was at the office early and late. At last he became so 
 useful to the book-keeper, that he made him his assistant, and 
 Mr. Granville ordered his salary raised to eight, hundred dol- 
 lars per annum, and to be paid by the house, and not out of 
 Mr. Nordheim's private funds. Mr. Granville invited Mtirion 
 to take up his residence at his house in State street to keep 
 him company. 
 
 5
 
 98 VIGOR. 
 
 ft would be a melancholy chapter if I were to relate all that 
 occurred iu the city while the cholera raged here. It did not 
 make Marion falter or flinch. At that time there was scarcely 
 a store in Broad street except the one occupied by Granville 
 & Nordheim. The street was filled with private residences 
 and' boarding-houses. Opposite to Mr. Granville's store, at 
 No. 24, was a boarding-house. Marion counted in one day 
 Tinie coffins taken out of the one house, and that very evening 
 he felt convinced that he had the cholera. Mr. Granville was 
 alarmed, and made him go to bed, and sent for ftmny old Doc- 
 tor Francis. Pie was shown into Marion's room. There Ma- 
 rion lay groaning with the cholera. The Doctor felt his pulse, 
 asked some questions, and Marion related how many coffins he 
 had seen come out of No. 24 Broad street. The Doctor 
 smiled, and ordered up a slice of bread. When it came up, 
 he made up two or three small pills with it. Marion looked at 
 his proceedings with astonishment. 
 
 " Take these pills ; they will care you," said the Doctor. 
 
 " Why, they are nothing but bread," said Marion, and he 
 jumped up in a rage at the idea of the doctor making fun of 
 him. 
 
 " Why, the very sight of my pills has cured you," and the 
 Doctor laughed heartily. Marion commenced dressing, and he 
 could not help laughing also. It was catching. Mr. Granville 
 laughed, and so did the servant. " Nothing serious is the 
 matter with you. You have no cholera. You have see"n so 
 many coffins to-day that your nerves have become excited, and 
 you fancied you had the cholera. It's lucky for you, my boy, 
 that I discovered the fact, or you might have had it in earnest, 
 and perhaps died with it," said Doctor Francis, solemnly. 
 
 The Doctor descended to the parlor, accompanied by Marion 
 Monck and Mr. Granville. A glass of old Madeira made Marion 
 quite well, and when the Doctor departed, he went part way 
 home with him. Many persons in the hands of less sensible 
 doctors died that summer with the cholera who had no more 
 cholera at the commencement than did Marion. The doctors 
 treated such cases as cholera, and they died of cholera. 
 
 While the epidemic lasted, only once did Marion leave the 
 city, and then he obt-iined leave of absence for a week, and he 
 spent it at the village where Mrs. Nordheim had gone. 
 
 There are some lovely villages in the State of Connecticut, 
 and none more so than the beautiful town of Woodbury, in 
 the County of Litchfield. It is on the mail route between 
 New Haven and Litchfield, and about fifteen miles south of the
 
 VIGOR. 99 
 
 latter town. The town extends three miles, with houses pre 
 tily laid out along the whole line. There are three places of 
 public worship, and one, the Episcopal, is located in the corner 
 of a burying ground that has been used as such for over two 
 centuries. At the south end of the burying-ground is a neat, 
 well-kept inn, with a largo garden that adjoins the burying- 
 ground. It was at this inn, or hotel, that Mrs. Nordheim had 
 obtained quarters during the prevalence of the epidemic in 
 New York. When Marion obtained leave of absence for a 
 week, he hurried up to this town, and he was delighted with it. 
 It was such a contrast with a town in his own State of South 
 Carolina. In the village where he was born there was not a 
 school-house, and, in fact, not one within thirty miles. In this 
 Connecticut town there were no less than five district schools, 
 and one academy kept by one of the clergymen of the aforesaid 
 churches. Marion soon became acquainted with the principal 
 people. He attended singing schools, went on fishing excur- 
 cursions, clambered over rocks, bathed in the river, and al- 
 most every day accompanied Mrs. Nordheim to spend the af- 
 ternoon or evening with some one of the families with whom 
 she had become acquainted. 
 
 The week of absence soon passed away, and he returned to 
 the city. Mrs. Nordheim continued to reside at the village inn 
 until the cheering news reached there that the cholera had 
 abated in the great city. Arrangements were made for her 
 return, and one lovely October morning she left the quiet 
 country life to take her part again in the city of New York. 
 
 One by one, family after family, returned to New York, and 
 about the close of November the principal part of the ab- 
 sentees had returned, and were as gay and devoted to worldly 
 pleasures and pursuits as though the Almighty had not sent a 
 destroying angel into the city to remove by sudden and horrid 
 deaths a large portion of the unthinking population.
 
 100 VIGOR. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 The Commercial Success of Marion Monck The Count Falsechinsk* specu- 
 lates and makes money in Stocks The bargain of Mr Gri-nvdle with Mr. 
 Nordheim Mnrion is ninetten years old Mrs Nordheim prcpo es n party 
 Tr.e Irtish Adventurer, John O'Docmall Ant.ed'Ae rf h x Arrival in 
 New York. 
 
 A YEAR passed away from the time when the scattered and 
 scared persons alluded to in our story returned to the city after 
 the cholera summer. During that year few changes or occur- 
 rences took place worth noticing. The duties of the counting 
 house of Granville and Nordheim were carried on as usual, and 
 their business increased rapidly. Mr. Nordheim was absent 
 from the city, or engrossed with schemes of his own personal 
 pleasure. After the death of his wife, and the departure of 
 his son Walter, Mr. Granville seemed to lo.se a portion of that 
 business energy that so strongly characterized him. These 
 two facts flung a greater responsibility upon Marion Monck, 
 and Mr. Granville had already entrusted him with a power of 
 attorney to sign the name of the firm. It was a great trust for 
 so young a man, as Marion was not quite nineteen years old. 
 But he was of the right metal, and this confidence served as a 
 more powerful incentive to renewed activity and devotion to 
 the business of his employers. 
 
 The Count Falsechinski, during the eighteen months that 
 followed the cholera summer was not idle. He devoted his 
 time to the duties of the office, and by a careful economy had 
 increased his deposits with his bankers, Prime, Ward and King. 
 He had become acquainted with the different members of that 
 distinguished firm, and one of the partners made a suggestion 
 to the Count, in reference to taking an interest in a purchase 
 of stock, which was to be " cornered," which proved valuable ; 
 for the Count availed himself of it to quite a large amount, at 
 least to four times his capital,- his bankers making the pur- 
 chase, and retaining as a " margin " the funds of the Count in 
 their hands. One December morning, the Count received a 
 note from his bankers, requesting him to call at the banking
 
 VIGOR. 101 
 
 house, No. 42 Wall street, early in the morning, and Mr. Ward 
 surprized him by saying, 
 
 " Count, you are aware that our firm purchased for your 
 account ten thousand dollars' worth of Morris Canal stock. It 
 has advanced fifty per cent, on the price we paid. Shall we 
 sell it at the Board to-day ? I think it has reached a high 
 limit. It may go higher, but you will make a good thing of it 
 at yesterday's quotations. What do you say ?" 
 
 The Count had very little to say, except to authorize the 
 sale at the Board that day. His orders were complied with. 
 The stock had advanced still more, and when the Count's bank 
 book was wrote up and handed him next day, he found that he 
 had to his credit over eight thousand dollars. This did not 
 move him. He was the same quiet, smiling, unobtrusive 
 Count. He attended in Broome street, and gave his lessons 
 to Miss Norris regularly ; and that young lady was already an 
 excellent Spanish and German scholar, as well as French, 
 which was the first language he taught her. Frequently he 
 met Tom Granville at the residence of Miss Norris, but the 
 Count took very little notice of him on such occasions, nor did 
 the notorious fact that Tom was perfectly fascinated with the 
 beautiful and accomplished girl seem to disturb the usual pla- 
 cidity of the Count. Occasionally, when he called to give a 
 lesson, he met Mr. l^ordheim in the house of Miss Nurris, and 
 he seemed pleased with the progress that his protege had made^ 
 
 Our readers will remember that Tom Granville had made an 
 arrangement with Mr. Nordheim to take Miss Norris off his 
 hands in a specified time. He had signally failed ; for al- 
 though it was quite apparent that Clara liked Torn, yet her 
 ambition to learn, and the advantages she had in her present 
 relations with Mr. Nordheim, made her decline in the most 
 positive manner all overtures to change, or make any arrange- 
 ment with Master Tom. Now and then, when Tom became 
 clamorous for funds, Clara would give him a fe.w tens from the 
 amounts she received from Mr. Nordheim, but she never went 
 to draw money from the Savings Bank. She received Mr. Tom 
 CJrunville's attentions without the slightest objection. She 
 allowed him to escort her to public places on all occasions, and 
 it would almost seem that she was aware of the secret purpose 
 of Mr. Nordheim, but she kept her own counsel in this respect. 
 Tom occasionally spoke of his progress to Mr. Nordheim. The 
 latter merely smiled, with a few words, such as, " Well, Tom, 
 more money, I suppose." Tom would leave with a hundred 
 dollars in his pocket. He still kept house in Chambers street,
 
 102 VIGOR. 
 
 but left his wife to get on as well as she could ; but when she 
 needed advice, she found an adviser in Mr. Nordheim, who 
 was a regular visitor in Chambers street, and -escorted Mrs. 
 Tom Granville to nearly every private party which she at- 
 tended. Many who had met them frequently in public, thought 
 that they were Mr. and Mrs. Nordheim. 
 
 Meanwhile Marion Monck was residing in Bond street, 
 where he had removed when Mrs. Nordheim returned from 
 the country after the cholera. Marion and Bessy were like 
 brother and sister. 
 
 Another visitor now made his appearance in Bond street, 
 and not a Sunday passed that he did not dine at Mrs. Nord- 
 heim's. This was no less a personage than our serious, me- 
 thodical old bookkeeper, Mr. Wilson. His attachment to Ma- 
 rion, his sterling integrity and good sense, had rendered Mr. 
 Wilson a great favorite with Mrs. Nordheim, and a welcome 
 visitor. He was a safe man, and the lady felt that he was one 
 of those that could be relied upon in a case of emergency, 
 should such a case ercr approach her home. The Count False- 
 chinski was also a regular visitor at Bond street. He was ac- 
 complished, and helped to while away many an hour pleasantly 
 that without his music and animated conversation would have 
 been dull and cheerless. , 
 
 December had arrived, and it was near the anniversary of 
 Marion's birth-day. Mrs. Nordheim had determined to make 
 some preparations for the day when her " brother Marion " 
 would be nineteen years old. She had consulted with the 
 Count and with Mr. Wilson,, as to what she should do to make 
 the occasion an agreeable one, and to be remembered. They 
 advised a party in the evening, and this was decided upon. 
 
 " Marion," said the lady, a few days before the event was to 
 happen, " I am going to give a small party on the evening of 
 your birth-day. I hope the idea will please you." 
 
 " Most unqffestionabiy ; whatever you do, dear Bessy, 
 pleases me. I have a happy home, and I ought to be very 
 thankful to you. I wish you would tell me how I can be suffi- 
 ciently grateful for all your goodness and kindness to me." 
 
 " By telling me who to invite that you know, and that I do 
 not. See, here is the list of those I have already invited." 
 
 Marion took the list, and carefully read over the names. 
 
 " Why, you seem to be better acquainted with the names of 
 my friends, Bessy, than I am myself: and yet there is one 
 name that is not on the list, and I wish you would invite the 
 person. I have met him frequently, and he has behaved with
 
 VIGOR. 103 
 
 great civility to me. I know of no way to return it except by 
 inviting him here. I will take the invitation when you have 
 filled it up, and deliver it myself. Here is the name." And 
 Marion wrote in pencil upon a slip of paper, "John O'Doemall." 
 
 The name was transferred to an envelope, and in the course 
 of the day Marion delivered it to the party for whom it was 
 intended. He found Mr. O'Doemall in his room at the City 
 Hotel, for this Irish gentleman never stopped at any place ex- 
 cept it was tlic first-class hotel. 
 
 As Mr. O'Doemall will be frequently introduced into this 
 local history, it will perhaps be as well that I should give a 
 brief narrative of his career from the time he reached our hos- 
 pitable American shore, until he makes his appearance as one 
 of the leading characters in our story. 
 
 Ireland never sent to the United States a more perfect gen- 
 tleman than John O'Doemall. He claimed to be an Irish peer, 
 but in disguise. He sp'oke the Spanish language as well as 
 English, wa? really handsome, very aristocratic in his bearing, 
 dressed well, had the manners and used fluently the language 
 of an educated gentleman. He was a fascinating lady-killer. 
 He could discourse of beautiful scenery, Moorish palaces, the 
 Alhambra, Mount Zion, and the river Jordan, life in Spain, in 
 Germany, France, Holland, Greece and the East, including Je- 
 rusalem, Grand Cairo, and Mecca. There could be no doubt 
 but that Mr. O'Doemall had been a very great traveller. Ex- 
 claim suddenly " Jack. you Jack!" and Mr. O'Doemall would 
 jump up hastily and reply, " Ay, ay, my Lord !" This was 
 tried on frequently by doubtful people, who had heard of this 
 peculiar trait in this original Irish character. There seemed 
 no possible way of accounting for it, except by surmising that 
 gentlemanly Jack had been, at no very remote period, a valet 
 to some Irish or English peer, and had travelled with the said 
 peer in those countries which Mr. O'Doemall could talk so 
 learnedly about. This was probably the true secret of the for- 
 mer occupation of the Irish adventurer. Doubtless he had com- 
 mitted some rascality that had parted him from his noble 
 patron, and rendered it necessary that he should try the Ame- 
 rican continent. He landed from a Liverpool packet ship of 
 the Black Ball line, but as his name never appeared in the 
 list of cabin passengers, it was reasonably supposed that he 
 came in the steerage. Before he had been in New York a 
 week, he could have been found at the City Hotel, located in 
 a comfortable apartment, and perfectly at home. 
 
 One day at dinner his agreeable, gentlemanly language
 
 104 VIGOR. 
 
 made an impression upon a neighbor at tte table who formed 
 one of a group of gentlemen that were sipping their wine toge- 
 ther after most of the other diners had left the table. This 
 gentleman invited John to take a glass of wine with him, and 
 finally to draw his chair nearer and join the drinking party. 
 John cheerfully accepted the invite, and before another hour 
 had passed he had made a still more decided impression upon 
 the individual alluded to. The conversation became general, 
 and John was brilliant. One of the party having made a state- 
 ment that anybody could earn a living in this country, was 
 asked by John O'Doemall the following question : 
 
 " How can a reduced Irish gentleman earn an honorable 
 living ?" 
 
 " Easily enough ; provided he is not too proud to take any 
 situation that offers." 
 
 " What position could I get ?" asked John. 
 
 " I have but one that I could offer you," was the reply. " I 
 keep a hotel at West Point, and I need a bar-keeper." 
 
 " And if you think I would suit you I accept the situation," 
 said O'Doemall. 
 
 The bargain was concluded, and Mr. O'Doemall received a 
 sufficient sum to pay his hotel bill. The next day he left the 
 city in company with his new employer, and before the week 
 had passed he was concocting drinks for the pupils of Uncle 
 Samuel's great military establishnient'near the Highlands. 
 
 This worthy hotel proprietor had a young and very beautiful 
 sister. Of course it was not long before Mr. O'Doemall be- 
 came acquainted with this sister, and also with the fact that she 
 had the snug little sum of ten thousand dollars in her own 
 right, which sum would become hers the very day she married. 
 What arts so accomplished a traveller as Mr. O'Doemall used 
 with a simple country girl to fascinate her, it is needless to 
 mention. They can be easily guessed. How quietly and how 
 adroitly everything was managed was wonderful. Had a thun- 
 derbolt pitched into the brain of the worthy landlord, he could 
 not have been more astonished, than when one afternoon, just 
 as he was preparing to take a siesta after dinner, his barkeeper 
 requested a private interview. Somewhat astonished at the 
 request, the landlord complied. When they were alone, Mr. 
 O'Doemall remarked, 
 
 " I believe sir I have been with you three months ? Per- 
 fectly satisfied with my manner of performing my duties ?" 
 
 " I have no particular fault to find, Jack," said Mr. Cozzens.
 
 VIGOR. 105 
 
 " Well, sir, I shall leave you in the down boat this evening, 
 and shall take my wife with me." 
 
 " Your wife ! I didn't know you had a wife ! Where the 
 devil have you kept her ?" 
 
 " I have only been married about a week, sir. Perhaps you 
 will have the kindness to read this certificate. It slightly con- 
 cerns you, and when you are satisfied, I shall expect some sort 
 of arrangement in reference to the trifling sum of about ten 
 thousand dollars that you are trustee for, and I will henceforth 
 relieve you of the duties of trusteeship." 
 
 " Intriguing, d scoundrel !" was the only comment ut- 
 tered by the landlord, as he read the certificate. " Bring your 
 wife here immediately." 
 
 " With pleasure." 
 
 The girl came. But why prolong such a scene 1 The bro- 
 ther's horror a woman's faith. O'Doemall secured her pro- 
 perty had it placed in his wife's hands, and a few days after 
 the husband and wife came to New York. Before six month ., 
 O'Doemall had the whole sum in a bank in his own name. He 
 had wheedled his poor wife into giving him the money. He 
 took a store down town, and commenced business as a wine 
 merchant. Before a year had expired, the poor wife died in 
 giving birth to a child. O'Doemall was all right. He had 
 secured the money safe by proper deeds and gifts, and was 
 now a regular boarder at the City Hotel as more than a year 
 had elapsed since the death of his wife. 
 
 Had Marion Monck been aware of these interesting antece- 
 dents, I question whether Mr. O'Doemall would have been in- 
 vited to his quiet home. Marion knew nothing of them. He 
 had first met O'Doemall at the rooms of Colonel Mac Neil. He 
 had been introduced to him as a merchant of capital, and he 
 had perceived that he was an agreeable man of the world. Mr. 
 Nordheim also associated with and recognized him, and besides 
 Mr. O'Doemall had bought of the firm a large bill of wines, and 
 he had paid the cash for them. With such and other collateral 
 evidences of respectability, what occasion had Marion to hesi- 
 tate about introducing him to his home circle ? He had none. 
 
 6*
 
 106 VIGOR. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Mrs. Nordheim gives a Parti/ Marion Monck is nintteen years ofdJ'hn 
 O Doimall James G. Bennett nt <i p r "'ty Henry W. Ctdar Mrs. \\~o-.d- 
 rvff Marion and Is -bella Granville A n offf.r and an aeccplanct Secrtcy 
 enjoined An (.necdot* of the Author's "Jirst love '' 
 
 THE eventful day arrived. Marion Monck was nineteen 
 years old. He did not make his appearance that day at the 
 office of Granville & Nordheitn, except for an hour or two in 
 the morning, and he returned to Bond street to assist Bessy 
 Nordheim in the event of her needing such assistance. 
 
 " Bessy, I have invited more people without your permis- 
 sion." 
 
 " Pshaw. What do I care for that ? I have invited a few 
 more than I had on my list. But we have room plenty of 
 room, and I shall have a gay, happy time of it. Our party 
 will be a regular old fashioned party, Marion. I will not 
 have one uncomfortable if I can help it. But pray, Marion, 
 whom have you invited ?" 
 
 " First. Mr. John O'Doemall ; but you know all about that. 
 Next, a person connected with the press with one of the 
 daily papers. He is a young Scotchman, and used to live in 
 Charleston." 
 
 " That alone, to a Charleston girl, is almost a sufficient letter 
 of introduction, without any other. What is his name ?" 
 
 " Bennett James Gordon Bennett. I was introduced to 
 him at Mrs. Coffin's, the large bom-ding house on the corner of 
 Broadway and Wall street, opposite Trinity Church. I like 
 him very much. He is quiet very intelligent, and you will 
 be pleased with him, Bessy." 
 
 " Very likely. Who else have you invited ?" 
 
 " Then I frequent Ned Windust's Shakespere, near the 
 Park Theatre. I have invited two friends from that region, 
 although I had previously met them both at Colonel Mac Neil's 
 room at the City Hotel. They help fill up, and are perhaps 
 as much my friends as many other? that will be here. One is . 
 a literary man named Cedar. He writes for the Weekly 
 Mirror, and for some of the monthly journals, and he also
 
 VIGOR. , 107 
 
 writes novels. He promised me one, which I will give to you 
 when I get it. The other is a young doctor and surgeon 
 named Carnochan. He is also Southron like you, only born in 
 Florida instead of South Carolina. He has been quite a trav- 
 eller in getting surgical knowledge. He studied in Scotland 
 three years in Paris he walked the hospitals four years, and 
 was several years the favorite pupil of oue of the first surgeons 
 in this city Doctor Mott." 
 
 ' Then I suppose he has a large practice." 
 
 '' In playing billiards, I dare say yes, but as for private 
 practice, I do not, Bessy, believe he has a solitary patient in 
 New York. He is a gay man good looking rather careless 
 has a prospect of property, and well, "I think he lives off 
 those prospects, and a few dollars he gets now and then from, 
 a rich uncle." 
 
 " I like him already. He must be an original, and when 
 night comes, if your three friends come also, I will try and 
 make them at home, and that is all I can do. Have you no 
 curiosity to know who I have invited ?" 
 
 " To be sure I have. Do I know them ?" 
 
 " Yes and no. You have observed the wealthy widow lady 
 that lives next door to us." 
 
 " Certainly Mrs. Woodruff is the name on the silver door- 
 plate. I am glad she is to be here. Do you know I have a 
 great admiration for her ? She lives so quiet, no noise, sees 
 few friends, has her pet rabbits, parroquets and parrots, mock- 
 ing birds, canaries and dogs. Why, I have tried to steal her 
 beautiful fawn colored Italian greyhound half a dozen times, 
 but I did not like to be so uuneighborly." 
 
 "I am glad that you are pleased with my inviting her, for 
 you will share the responsibility of the act with me to Mr. 
 Nordheim. I do not know how it is, but on one or two occa- 
 sions when I have mentioned the name of our lady-like neigh- 
 bors in his hearing, he has turned up his nose 'one degree 
 more, and then followed such a curious expression upon his 
 face that I asked him once if he knew any harm of Mrs. 
 Woodruff." 
 
 " Pray, what reply did he make ?" 
 
 " Nordheim said he did not know any harm of her, on the 
 contrary, that he believed she was highly connected, and that 
 her husband was a man of great genius, and died wealthy, 
 leaving her a princely fortune and no children." 
 
 " She has some of the handsomest equipages in town call at 
 her door," observed Marion.
 
 10S VIGOR. 
 
 " That is true. We have occasionally spoken when we h;ive 
 met at the door, and this morning 1 boldly asked her to be 
 present this evening, and she accepted. In addition, I hare 
 invited Mr. and Mrs. Parker and their beautiful niece Julia. 
 They live up the street, and called upon me and Mr. Nordheim 
 yesterday. They are immensely rich, have retired from busi- 
 ness, and are very desirable people to know. Mrs. Parker 
 prides herself upon being one of the principal leaders of 
 fashion. She is only twenty-fire years old, while he is fifty if 
 he is a day. The niece is but serentoen. But who is ringing 
 away at that door-bell ? Is there nobody to .answer it? Go, 
 Marion, to the door yourself." 
 
 Marion .went and opened the door, and returned, leading by 
 the hand, Isabella Granville. The look of intense admiration 
 with which Marion gazed at the beautiful girl whose hair fell 
 over her face, her cheeks red with excitement, and her eyes 
 dancing with joy, was not lost upon Bessy Nordheim. She 
 was rather cool at first, but it did not last long. 
 
 ' : I have come to help you, dear Mrs. Nordheim. Papa said 
 I might come, and I will do all in my power to relieve you of 
 your care about the party," said Isabella. 
 
 " Thank you, Isa ; but I must be at work, so I will leave 
 you and Marion to amuse each other." 
 
 Mrs. Nordheim left the parlor to go and look after the ser- 
 vants. Poor Marion. Isabella Granville took off her bonnet, 
 then her shawl, and then Marion seated himself by her side. 
 They chatted and laughed, and finally Isabella adjourned to 
 the piano, played several favorite airs, and sang the words. 
 Marion stood by and drank in every note. Isabel looked up 
 at him, when she had finished. " Isa." It was all he said, 
 and then he took her hand in, his, and led her back to the sofa. 
 He put his arm around her waist, and again repeated, "Isa, I 
 love you." She did not make any reply, but leaned her head 
 over on his shoulder. The perfume of her hair almost took 
 away his breath. He kissed her forehead, and then, more 
 bold, he pressed her pouting, cherry-ripe lips not once, but 
 a dozen times, and she returned it. 
 
 Mrs. 'Bessy Nordheim, where were you all this while ? 
 Down in the kitchen the sweat pouring out of your face, as 
 you gave hurried directions about the baking and cooking 
 arrangements ; and he for whom you were making all these 
 extra preparations, was only over your head, giving away his 
 first, his puppy love, to a silly little coquette who did not 
 know her own inind five minutes.
 
 VIGOR. 109 
 
 " Isa, I love you. Do you love me in return ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ; very much indeed. I love you a great deal 
 more than I ever did Frank Clacksome, or that stupid William 
 Senless, although I did love them once, but I don't now. I 
 have loved you ever since let me see ever since my 
 mother died. But you must riot tell any body that I love 
 you," simpered Isabella. 
 
 " Of course, dear Isa, you will let me speak to your father 
 and" said Marion, earnestly. 
 
 " Oh, no. Certainly not. The idea of such a thing is per- 
 fectly frightful. Why, he would lock me up, beat me I don't 
 know what he wouldn't do. He would very likely make me 
 marry Middleton Benson at an hour's notice, as he tried to 
 make Walter marry his sister, and you know I could not run 
 away and go to sea, as Walter did. Now don't look so cross, 
 Marion. Kiss me again," was Isabella's reply. 
 
 Marion complied, and told Isabel that he thought she was 
 alarmed without cause. "Why should your father object to 
 me ? I am only nineteen, it is true, but you are very young. 
 We can wait, dear Isa. However, I will do as you wish ; but 
 will you promise to marry me when your father gives his con- 
 sent ?" 
 
 " To be sure I will. But then you are not to ask him 
 and not to say a word to a soul alive until I tell you that you 
 may. I will be very angry if you do," observed Isabella. 
 
 Marion promised. All further conversation was interrupted 
 by the entrance of Mrs. Nordheim, who was too much excited 
 by her culinary troubles to give any heed or even to notice 
 the sheepish looks of the two young friends. She called upon 
 Isabel to go up stairs with her, and Marion was alone. It was 
 his first love. There was a pretty face, his employer's daugh- 
 ter and imagination must do the rest. He thought Isabella 
 perfection itself; but he was only nineteen years old, and as 
 ignorant of the sort of partner he had been making love to as 
 though he had never seen her. Youth must love something. 
 If it is not a reality, it will be an ideality. I well remember 
 that my first love was a young girl that I first saw in St. 
 George's church. I attended that church in Beekman stre'et 
 two years for no other earthly or heavenly purpose except to 
 see her every Sunday. I did not know her name even. Then 
 I went to the East Indies to Canton was gone a year. Eight 
 months of that period I was at sea, and I walked the deck at 
 night and indulged thoughts of her. I dreamed of her. All 
 ray aspirations of future success in life were associated with
 
 110 VIGOR. 
 
 her. When I returned, I hurried to that church, for it was 
 Sunday morning when I landed from my Canton voyage. I 
 found her there. That Sunday I cultivated the sexton, and 
 ascertained her name and where her parents lived. It was 
 opposite St. John's Park. There for weeks after dark, I used 
 to go and sit on the stone foundation of the iron railing, and 
 look at the house that contained the object of my admiration, 
 and so four years passed. Then I commenced sending her 
 anonymous but costly presents ; I wrote her poetry, and used 
 up another year, but no hope dawned. I began to see daylight. 
 I had lent two hundred dollars to a wretched cousin of my fair 
 flame, and he agreed to introduce me to the family. " When ?" 
 I asked. " One of the daughters is to be married next week, 
 and I will get you an invitation." " Capital," I replied. " But 
 what is the name of the daughter that is to be married ?" I 
 asked, "with a shiver. " Susan," was the reply. The uni- 
 verse seemed to me to have capsized for about five minutes. 
 " Susan " was the name of the daughter th;it I had so long 
 loved, and that I had regarded as my wife. She was to marry, 
 and did marry a man named Wilson. I have hated that name 
 ever since. I contemplated having Susan arrested for spirit- 
 ual bigamy ; but was too much occupied to commence pro- 
 ceedings. Then, again, as I ha_d never spoken spoken a word 
 to her in my life, it made it so odd. That was my first love 
 my puppy love and it was deep in the heart. Susan has 
 children ay, grandchildren now, but I never see her in the 
 street, meet h^r in church, but soft, pleasant memories will 
 steal over me of my long-tried love. The only thing painful 
 about it is that I did not say something to Susan at "he time. 
 It was all one side. I ought to have let her know something 
 about it, and the chances are decidedly in favor of the supposi- 
 tion that the abominable, plodding Wilson that made my 
 Susan Mrs. W. would have been nowhere. 
 
 But to return to Marion Monck. He was obliged to full in 
 love with somebody or something. He was honest as the day 
 was long. He would not commit a wrong. He liked Bes.sy 
 Nordheim. He never dreamed of loving her, bcc:iu.se she 
 was his employer's wife ; and for want of a better real to his 
 ideal in soul, he fell in love with Isabella Granville. She 
 remained until afternoon in Bond street, and then Marion 
 accompanied her home in State street, where she went to dress 
 to return to the party that evening. That party must com- 
 mence another chapter.
 
 VIGOR. HI 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Th? Evening Party comes off" at Mrs. Nnrdh-im's -The guests Mr. Ben- 
 ne.tt's Convrsat on Mr. and Mrs Park-r and nitce Julia Old John 
 Gra*p>r. the million-lire Col. Mac Neil and Miss Irene Grasper Mr. 
 B-nnett's family and birth place in Scotland Col Mac Ndl offers Ai.1 
 hand to Miss Grasper, in acceptid bi/ h?r, and rfjectfd by h:r fathe.r "Ao 
 wan is rich enough to support two families" Mrs. Woodruff s Residence 
 Her horses and c-i ring s Her pic in Grace Church, and hfr pi'ty 
 The Count Falstchin kf. at the party He offers to go to church The party 
 brtaki up. 
 
 THERE was a vast difference between an evening party thir- 
 ty years ago, and now. In those days, the hour in the even- 
 ing when the guests assembled at the hospitable mansion was 
 much earlier, and the hour when the p'arty dissolved was not 
 later than midnight. The refreshmants were of a different 
 order. Then there were the solid, old-fashioned mahogany 
 sideboards, filled with good things, and covered with substan- 
 tial eatables and drinkables. There \^s choice old South- 
 side Madeira that had been in cask forty years. There was 
 old cider for old-fashioned people, and quantities of cut glass 
 dishes overloaded with cracked hickory nuts. Rhode Island 
 Greenings and Spitzbergen apples were piled up on famous 
 large crockery open-work dishes, and the young people could 
 eat nuts and do courting at the aforesaid sideboards. Then 
 the supper was a substantial supper, with oysters done in every 
 style, and cold turkey and chicken, and knives and forks and 
 plates, and above all, room for all the guests to partake of the 
 good cheer in comfort. There was a room for the supper. 
 There was room for those who danced, and room for those who 
 played whist, or who wished to converse. 
 
 Those were good old days, but they have changed for the 
 worse. Few of our readers but what know from personal ex- 
 perience the difference between such a party as we have des- 
 cribed, and one in the modern times, when all is heartlessness, 
 claptrap and show. 
 
 Before eight o'clock on the evening of Marion Monck's birth- 
 day, the two large parlors of Mr. Nordheim's spacious resi- 
 dence in P> nd street were partly but not uncomfortably filled
 
 112 VIGOR. 
 
 with the persons to whom invitations had been sent. There 
 was not one missing. 
 
 Mr. Nordheim could act the gentleman when he chose to do 
 so, and on this occasion he spared no pains to make every one 
 feel at home. His partner, William Pitfc Granville and Isa- 
 bella were among the first to arrive ; and soon after, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Tom Granville, accompanied by Miss Madison Pinckney, 
 were announced. Tom had no sooner entered than he was 
 hurried to the piano by Miss Benson, who knew how delight- 
 fully Tom played upon that instrument. Colonel Benson 
 joined Pitt Granville, a.nd with Colonel Mac Neil and Mr. Ce- 
 dar the author, a whist party was made up. 
 
 Marion did the honors to a certain extent, fur as fast as 
 those arrived to whom he had specially given invitations, and 
 who were personally unknown to Mrs. Nordheim, he presented 
 them by name to the latter lady. Mr. Bennett and Mr. Wilson 
 came in together, and after the former had been presented to 
 the hostess, he retired quietly to an ottoman in a corner of the 
 room, and there remained until Mr. Wilson wont and took a 
 seat by his side. 
 
 " I suppose you will join the dancers presently," said honest 
 Wilson. 
 
 " No indeed. I don't dance. I prefer looking on. It is 
 very rare that I go out to a party, and when I do I have my 
 own way of enjoying myself. As you seem to know most of 
 the people here, you will confer a great favor upon me if you 
 will tell me ajl about them. I am very fond of studying cha- 
 racters, and I am much deceived if you have not some origin- 
 als here to-night. Mrs. Nordheim is a beautiful woman 
 which is her husband ?" asked Mr. Bennett. 
 
 " That Jewish-looking man talking with Mr. Thomas Gran- 
 ville," replied Mr. Wilson. 
 
 " I've seen him before. I conversed with his lady a few 
 moments about Charleston ; I must have seen him at the 
 South," was Mr. Bennett's observation. 
 
 " Very likely : and Mr. Nordheim is a man, that if you see 
 him once, you are not likely to forget him. He is not re- 
 markable for his beauty, but he is clever in a financial point 
 of view," said Wilson. 
 
 Here Mr. and Mrs. Parker and Miss Julia Parker were an- 
 nounced, and soon after were cordially received by the host 
 and hostess. The latter introduced Marion, and he offered his 
 arm to conduct Miss Julia to a seat. Mrs. Parker and her 
 husband followed. Soon after, Mr. Nordheim, accompanied by
 
 VIGOR. 113 
 
 Mr. O'Doemall, introduced him to Mrs. Parker, and the hus- 
 band went off to find Mr. Granville, who was an old acquaint- 
 ance. These parties are disposed of, and we now return to 
 Mr. Bennett and Mr. Wilson. Mr. Bennett remarked, 
 
 " Thoso last arrivals seem to create quite a sensation ; who 
 are they, Mr. Wilson ?" 
 
 " Oh. Mr. Parker is as rich as Crcesus retired from all 
 sorts of business, married a handsome wife only one third as 
 old as he is, and they live up the street in princely style," was 
 the reply of Mr. Wilson. 
 
 " Their daughter is an elegant girl," said Mr. Bennett. 
 
 " She is only a niece, and the aunt is very jealous of her. 
 Do you see that nice young man who is paying such devoted 
 attention to Mrs. Parker ?" asked Mr. Wilson.' 
 
 " Yes ; who is he ?" asked Mr. Bennett. 
 
 Mr. Wilson rolled up his eyes as he replied, " Prom all ac- 
 counts, he is a hard case, in a financial point of view. I don't 
 know much about him. He is able to make the female sex be- 
 lieve black is white, and well, in a financial point of view, he 
 is said to be a regular Jeremy Didler. He goes on change, 
 and he gets into society somewhere or other, and no English- 
 man of any account comes to this town but what Mr. O'Doemall 
 gets into his good graces. Why, man, I don't believe but what 
 lie owes every hotel in town except the one where he resides. 
 He conies to our office occasionally, but I don't like him." 
 
 Mr. Bennett smiled and observed, " He seems to be making 
 himself very agreeable to Mrs. Parker." 
 
 " He make himself agreeable ! Why, sir, he has already ex- 
 plained to her all about our Savior's tomb at Jerusalem, and 
 promised her a fragment of the rock which covered 'our Sa- 
 vior's sepulchre, which he has at his hotel, and which he got 
 from a monk when he was last iu Holy Land. I'll bet two to 
 one that she has already invited him to call to morrow with it 
 at her residence," said Wilson. 
 
 " Do you suppose he has a piece of the rock?" 
 
 " Hock be hanged. No ; doubtful if he was ever nearer Je- 
 rusalem than I have been. As for the rock, he will smash a 
 piece off the curb-stone as he goes up to her house, and take it 
 along with him. He is a bad customer, in a financial point of 
 view, and if he once gets a foothold in the house of Mrs. Par- 
 ker, she will never get him out," said honest Wilson. 
 
 Mr. Bennett queried out of the book-keeper the name and 
 occupation of nearly every person in that room, and then they 
 left it together to join the dancers,- who were busily occupied
 
 114 VIGOR. 
 
 on the floor above. They had hardly procured seats befora 
 Mr. Bennett was much struck by the appearance of an elderly 
 person who was watching the dancers. He asked Wilson who 
 that was. 
 
 " Old Grasper, the millionaire," was the reply. 
 
 In those days, thirty years ago, millionaires were very few 
 and far between in the city of New York. Now they are as 
 plenty as pickpockets in a great assemblage. Old John Gras- 
 per was considered about as rich as any other man, with one, 
 or perhaps two exceptions. Astor could set several numerals 
 to the word millions. Old Nat Prims, of the firm of Prime, 
 Ward & King, was getting up rapidly towards a million, and 
 would have overreached it by the rise of city property had he 
 not died suddenly. Then there was Stephen Whitney, who 
 was running up on the hundreds of thousands, but did not 
 touch " million." Thirty years ago Bobby Lennox, who made 
 Lis first property while a clerk to the Commissioners of the 
 British prison ships, could count up to three or four hundred 
 thousand, and John Graspe.r was not far behind the richest of 
 them (save Astor) in those days. He had recently built him a 
 house out of town of granite, and people wondered at such ex- 
 travagance and folly as to put up so costly a building way up 
 Broadway, above Prince street. But old John finished it, 
 and in spite of opposition moved into it from his brick house 
 on the north-east corner, where the Astor House now stands, 
 and took a position as one of the aristocratic families in New 
 York. He had two children one a boy and the other a girl, 
 or rather, these children were a young man named Francis, 
 who sp5rted his money around town as one of the exclusives, 
 and a fair girl named Irene, who, with her pecuniary prospects 
 so flattering, was acknowledged as one of the elite and most 
 fashionable young ladies about town. Old Grasper had other 
 children, but they have no connection with this story, and need 
 not to be alluded to. Mr. Grasper was a man of strict business 
 habits. He had acquired property in the fur trade, and he 
 judiciously invested it in real estate and bank stock. After 
 he retired from active commercial life he was elected presi- 
 dent of a city bank. The position was a respectable one, and 
 the income from this office was well worth having by even one 
 of the richest citizens. 
 
 On the present occasion old Mr. Grasper was watching every 
 movement of his daughter Irene, whu was dancing with Colo- 
 nel Mac Neil. His eyes scarce wandered for a moment from 
 them. Mr. Bennett and Wilson took seats near him.
 
 VIGOR. 115 
 
 " So that is old Grasper, who is so rich the millionaire, as 
 you say, 31r Wilson, >: said Mr. Bennett. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Bennett, and judging by the way he is watching 
 the attentions of Colonel Mac Neil to his child, I should think 
 something was broke. He evidently don't like Colonel Mac 
 Neil's sweet demonstrations upon his daughter it is bad in a 
 financial point of view ; for my own opinion of Colonel Mac is 
 that he is not worth a cent." 
 
 " He may be a good man, for all that. Scotch is he not ?" 
 replied Mr. Bennett. 
 
 " Yes sir. He might be a good man, but he is not, in a 
 financial or any other point of view. He is a very immoral 
 man. Bat you are Scotch too, are you not ?'' asked Mr. Wilson. 
 
 " 1 certainly was born in Scotland, and lived there until I 
 was sixteen, when I came to this country, and have been here 
 ever sin'ce. I am from a different part of Scotland than where 
 this Mac Neil's race lived. My family were Catholic Scotch, 
 and believed in the Divine rights of the Stuarts down to 
 this day. My mother was as strongly in favor of the Stuart 
 dynasty as were her ancestors before her, although years had 
 passed since there was the remotest hope of any of that royal 
 race ever reigning again in Great Britain. But tell me more 
 about this Colonel Mac Neil. You say that he is immoral. 
 How so ? Gambles, I suppose?" asked Mr. Bennett. 
 
 " Worse than that. He seducod in Canada a virtuous young 
 lady named Jane McPherson. She was a soldier's daughter. 
 I have seen the poor old father, McPherson. He came down 
 to New York to try and persuade his child to return home. 
 But no she would not do it. She loves Mac Neil too well. 
 She lives very retired as his mistress, and has two children by 
 the Colonel. Poor thing ! She hopes some day that Mac Neil 
 will make an honest woman of her by marriage. There is no 
 hope of that the Colonel must marry for money, and he will 
 do it too, if he can." 
 
 While this conversation was being carried on, the object of 
 it was deeply engrossed with Miss Irene Grasper. They had 
 finished dancing, and Col. Mno Neil conducted his fair partner 
 to one of the side rooms. They were alone. Irene Grasper 
 was a magnificent girl, stately in appearance, with a profusion 
 of light auburn locks arranged with great taste. Her cheeks 
 were pale her eyes a mild blue. When she was seated where 
 few were likely to interrupt them, Mac Neil took one hand in 
 his own, and in deep impassioned tones observed, 
 
 " You know, dear Irene, how devotedly how madly I have
 
 116 VIGOR. 
 
 loved you. To-night I must know from your own lips my fafe. 
 You must have perceived how closely your father watched 
 every motion while we were dancing. Do you love me, Irene?" 
 
 " Colonel, how can you a?k me such a question ! You 
 know that I do. How could I help it, although I have tried to 
 do so," replied the lady. 
 
 " Tried to help loving me, Irene ? What do you mean by 
 that sentence 1 Why do you wish not to love me?" asked 
 Colonel Mac Neil. 
 
 " I do God knows I do. Colonel, there are so many 
 stories told about you so many lies, perhaps scandal and 
 yet I am afraid almost to dream of trusting my happiness in 
 your keeping." 
 
 " Do you confess that you love me, Irene ?" asked Col. Mac 
 Neil. 
 
 " I do," replied the fair girl, her eyes swimming in tears. 
 
 " And will you authorize me to make that statement to your 
 father, when I ask him for your hand, which I will do to- 
 night ?" said the Colonel. 
 
 " 0, do not ! He will not give his consent, and I shall be 
 more miserable than ever," said Irene. 
 
 " That, dear Irene, we shall see. There can be no great 
 harm in my asking. I owe it to myself to my own self-re- 
 spect. Why should he not give his consent ? I am his equal, 
 except perhaps in point of wealth, and of that he may have 
 more than I." 
 
 What reply the young lady might have made is not so cer- 
 tain, for just at that moment Mr. Grasper the millionaire made 
 his appearance upon the scene. Colonel Mac Neil arose. 
 
 " Be seated, sir ; and you, Miss Irene, go and join your mo- 
 ther. I would like to say a few words to you, sir," observed 
 Mr. Grasper. 
 
 Colonel Mac Neil rose and bowed to Miss Irene as she left 
 the room, and then re-seated himself. 
 
 " I am waiting patiently to hear the words you mentioned 
 that you wished to address to me," said Colonel Mac Neil. 
 
 " Colonel Mac Neil, you have been very pointed in your 
 attentions to my daughter of late, and especially to-night. I 
 am a plain man, sir, and should like to ask you what are your 
 intentions towards her ?" demanded old Mr Grasper. 
 
 " Honorable, of course, sir. I would like to see that person 
 who dared say or hint otherwise !" said Col. Mac Neil. . 
 
 " ah yes. That is all very well, sir. Honorable^ 
 that means marriage. That is just what I don't want. I had
 
 VIGOR. 117 
 
 just as lief your intentions were what you would call dis- 
 honorable. It would suit me as well," sternly observed Mr. 
 Grasper. 
 
 " Mr. Grasper, I thank you for opening the way to a propo- 
 sal I have to make. T love your daughter. You need not sneer, 
 sir. I love her for herself alone. You may think I seek her 
 hand in honorable marriage because she is the daughter of a 
 wealthy man. It is false, sir ! I care not for her money. She 
 loves me, sir, and will confess it with her own lips, if you will 
 ask her," said the Colonel. 
 
 " Shan't do anything of the kind. I will not consent to your 
 marrying her under any circumstances. If you take her, God 
 curse me if I ever give her, directly or indirectly, dead or alive, 
 a solitary cent to keep her or you from starving. Do I speak 
 plain ?" sternly observed Mr. Grasper. 
 
 " Perfectly ; but really, Mr. Grasper, some explanation is 
 necessary. I have a good business. I can support my wife. 
 My position in society is equal to yours. By birth, I am at 
 least your equal. Pray, Mr. Grasper, give me some reason for 
 so extraordinary a refusal to my proposition. I am no beggar !" 
 
 " Do you wish me to give you the reason my real reason 1" 
 asked Mr. Grasper. 
 
 " I do, most respectfully," replied Colonel Mac Neil. 
 
 " And, Mr. Mac Neil, if I do, and if it is satisfactory, will 
 you promise me, as a man of honor, that you will go to my 
 daughter, and say to her that you relinquish her affections, and 
 all claim to her hand ?" asked Mr. Grasper. 
 
 " I will, upon my honor. And now let me hear, if you please, 
 the reason," said the Colonel. 
 
 " Colonel Mac Neil, you may be doing a good business 
 you may be making money I care not. I do not believe you 
 or any other man is doing a business sufficient to justify him 
 in attempting to support two families." 
 
 Colonel Mac Neil was for a moment paralyzed. He was not 
 prepared for this. " Stop one moment, sir I am satisfied." 
 
 Mr. Grasper passed out of the room. 
 
 " What a fool I have been ! Who in the fiend's name could 
 have told him that I kept a mistress, and had two children by 
 her ? That is what he meant. Well, I am as proud as he is." 
 
 A moment after he joined Miss Grasper, and addressed her 
 as easily as though nothing had happened. Ere he left her 
 side, he said, 
 
 " Irene, we meet hereafter as strangers. Your father has 
 refused me your hand. I am satisfied, and shall never claim
 
 118 VIGOR. 
 
 it again. God bless you !" And soon after he took his leave 
 of Mrs. Nordheim, and left the house. 
 
 Mr. Bennett had noticed some of these proceedings, and 
 when Colonel Mac Neil took his hasty departure, he gently 
 nudged Mr. Wilson, remarking, " My Scotch friend, the Col- 
 onel, seems to have had a rebuff from some quarter." 
 
 " Indeed he has. I overheard a few high words between 
 him and old Grasper a short time ago, and I think the Colonel 
 will haul off in that quarter." 
 
 He communicated to Mr. Bennett the " two families to sup- 
 port " remark. The latter laughed, and said he had not thought 
 Air. Grasper had so much keen wit in his composition. 
 
 " It was not bad, was it 1 ?" said Mr. Wilson. 
 
 Marion Monck was not idle for a moment. He introduced 
 such people to each other as he thought would make agreeable 
 acquaintances. Such of his friends as were bashful, he led up 
 to the prettiest girls, and made them select partners for the 
 dance. At last he approached Mr. Bennett. 
 
 " Come, come, sir, this will not do. Why, you are destroj-- 
 ing Mr. Wilson's usefulness?, and it don't pay in a pecuniary 
 point of view eh, Mr. Wilson ? What can you two have to . 
 say to each other of so much interest ? Mr. Wilson, you must 
 take down Mrs. Nordheim to supper to-night, and as to Mr. 
 Bennett, I must trust him to take charge of my sweet Isabella 
 Granville. Consider yourselves engaged, both Monsieurs, 
 when the proper time comes," and he passed on and joined 
 Mrs. Woodruff, who was seated alone. 
 
 " That Marion Monck is a noble fellow, Mr. Bennett. What 
 do you think of him ? You have known him some time, he 
 informs me." 
 
 " For some months. He came up to the editorial rooms of 
 the Courier to see Colonel Webb one day, and I then had a 
 short conversation with him. I have since met him at my 
 boarding-house," was Mr. Bennett's reply. 
 
 " He will make a great merchant one of these days, I am 
 thinking," added Mr. Wil.son. 
 
 " 1 have my doubts about that. I do not think he will make 
 a great merchant, nor a small one, either. He has talent of a 
 high order, and fitted for a higher sphere, or I am/ much mis- 
 taken," observed Mr. Bennett. 
 
 " Higher sphere !" repeated the indignant Wilson ; " what 
 higher sphere is there in New York, I should like to know ?" 
 
 " I don't wish to be rude, but I think to be an editor re- 
 quires a higher order of talent than it does to make a success-
 
 VIGOR. 119 
 
 ful shop-keeper or, I beg your pardon a leading merchant. 
 Young Monck, I dare say, has never written a line in his life, 
 yet I think some day he will make a clever journalist. He 
 will if he can write as well as he talks but time makes strange 
 changes." . 
 
 Time proved it, for what that editor prophesied became true 
 in after years to a far greater extent than even he dreamed of 
 at that early period. 
 
 Marion was deeply engaged in conversation with Mrs. Wood- 
 ruff. She seemed grateful for his attention. " I feel almost 
 isolated here to-night, knowing so few, in fact none except the 
 inmates of this house, by seeing you pass in and out of the 
 doors," was her remark. 
 
 " Yoa have resided next door to us over a year, have you 
 not ? I have always admired that house it is at least one- 
 third deeper than our house, and the yard is larger, and very 
 beautifully arranged with trees, plants and flowers. You must 
 be fond of flowers, madam V 
 
 " Very, indeed. I love them. My husband has been dead 
 some years, and but for my pets, and my flowers, I should not 
 know what to do," replied Mrs. Woodruff. 
 
 " Have you no relatives living with you V asked Marion 
 " Not one. I have done with them, and they witli me. Not 
 a soul lives with me except my servants and my live stock. I 
 have many acquaintances who call upon me, but they are of 
 the highest character. Mr. Monck, I shall be most happy to 
 have you call and see me whenever it is convenient. 1 am 
 rarely out. If I have company, it need not discompose you. 
 I shall have a parlor for you, no matter how many may be in 
 the house. I never show one of my visitors into the same 
 parldr where there is another," remarked Mrs. Woodruff, 
 proudly. 
 
 Marion thought thi* was a queer sort of woman ; but as she 
 was rich, she had a right to be as eccentric as she pleased. 
 He answered, that he should avail himself of her kind invitation. 
 " One word more. When you wish to ride, I have a car- 
 riage and servants at your disposal. My stable and carriage- 
 house are in the rear of my house in Bond street. I hope you 
 go to church," was the word more of Mrs. W. 
 " Occasionally," replied Marion. 
 
 'You ought to go every Sunday. Religion is an excellent 
 thing for a young man or woman. It keeps the minds of both 
 occupied and out of mischief. Will you go to church with me 
 next Sunday 1"
 
 120 VIGOR. 
 
 " What church ?" asked Marion. 
 
 " I own a pew in Grace Church, down Broadway, corner of 
 Rector. We will ride down in my own carriage. Dr. Wain- 
 wright is my pastor," said Mrs. W. 
 
 " Nothing will give me more pleasure. Perhaps Mrs. Nord- 
 hcim" observed Marion Monck. 
 
 " Stop, stop. I never ask women to go with me anywhere. 
 I shall be happy to have you go. You will be obliged to re- 
 turn without me, as it is sacrament Sunday, and I always stop 
 to partake of the Lord's Supper. Who is that gentleman con- 
 versing with Mrs. Thomas Granville ?" said Mrs. Woodruff. 
 
 " That ? Why, that is the Count Falsechinski." 
 
 " Tell me all about him. I am anxious to know his history." 
 
 Marion complied with her request, and told her all he knew 
 of the Count, except one or two matters that he had no right 
 to tell. 
 
 "Thank you; thank you. Now will you do me one favor 
 more ? Bring the Count here and introduce him to me." 
 
 Marion stepped across the room, and, after talking a few 
 moments to the eager Count, telling him about the rich lady 
 next door, and so forth, he took his arm and brought him over. 
 " Madam Woodruff, allow me to present to you my noble friend 
 the Count Falsechinski. I will leave him with you." 
 
 The Count became almost excruciatingly polite. He bowed 
 almost to his knees, and placed one hand on his heart while he 
 declared that he was perfectly overwhelmed with bliss at be- 
 coming acquainted with so perfect a lady that she reminded 
 him of his siater (he was too polite to say mother,) the Princess 
 Sophinski, the most beautiful woman in Warsaw before the re- 
 cent revolution. All the extra touches were put on by the 
 Count. 
 
 " No more. No more, Count. I cannot bear it. There 
 stop and sit right down, or you will hurt yourself." The Count 
 took a seat by her side. " There, that is right. You are a 
 dear good Count, and we shall like each other much, when we 
 are better acquainted." 
 
 What passed after that between the two last-named persons 
 it is not necessary to recount. Suffice it to say here, that Mrs. 
 Woodruff showed the same anxiety about the piety of the 
 Count, and repeated the same invitation she had given to 
 Marion. She also spoke of remaining to the sacrament, and 
 the Count said he could not possibly permit that, unless he 
 also remained with her,
 
 VIGOR. . 121 
 
 " But do you wish to partake of the sacrament, Count ?" 
 she asked earnestly. 
 
 " Nothing, I assure my dear madam, would give me more 
 pleasure. Rather than part with your dear company, I would 
 partake of any thing." 
 
 Here supper was announced, and the Count offered his arm 
 and escort. The other quests were suitably arranged, and be- 
 fore ten o'clock all were at the supper-table, and ere midnight 
 the regular occupants of the house were left in it alone. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Aliss Norrix and her Teacher of Languages She Threatens Mr. Nordheim 
 Gives the Count a Fearful If>story of the Antecedents of Mrs. Woodruff 
 The Value of Mr. Ctdar's Note or Draft upon his Publishers Doctor 
 Carnochan2'he Dfftrence betwi.cn a Ge-inan at,d a Dutchman, 
 
 NOT many days after the party in Bond street, the Count 
 Falsechinski called in Broome street to give a lesson in Ger- 
 man to Miss Norris. lie found Tom Granville there. 
 
 " Tom," said Clara, "I wish to see the Count alone this 
 morning so be so obliging and take yourself somewhere else. 
 Money you cannot get from me to-day, nor to-morrow, either 
 it would do you no good. Go to your brother." 
 
 " But you have money of mine in " commenced poor Tom. 
 
 " Stop no more of that, or I wiil forbid you the house. I 
 do not owe you a dollar. You put some in my hands, but you 
 have drawn it all," said Clara. 
 
 " Surely I have not had " again commenced Tom. 
 
 " Never mind whether you have had it or not. I don't keep 
 accounts. I have not got any of it, and if you have not spent 
 it, I have, so there is no more to be said about it. Now go, 
 that is a good boy," and she rose and gently pushed him out 
 of the room and locked the door. " Now, Count, I have got 
 rid of that poor foolish youth, I wish to talk with you. You 
 are a man. I understand you perfectly, and I tell you can- 
 didly, I admire you very much. Hawks must not pick out 
 hawks' eyes. So you were at the party at Mrs. Nordheim's ? 
 Never say a word until I finish. Mr. Nordheim was all atten- 
 tion to Mrs. Tom Gra'.iville. Don't shake your head. I know 
 better. But what do I care ? As long as he allows me what 
 I need, and p^ys me regularly, he may do what else lie pleases, 
 
 6
 
 122 VIGOR. 
 
 but let the funds stop but a day, an hour, ay, a quarter of a 
 moment, and Mr. Nordheim and me part company forever. Toll 
 me all that you know about Mrs. Woodruff. ' 
 
 This was a subject upon which the Count willingly en- 
 larged, and he gave a glowing description of the rich widow, 
 her splendid mansion, coach, servants in livery, and pew in 
 Grace Church. 
 
 " Did Mr. Nordheim speak to her when she was at the party 
 of his wife ?" asked Miss Norris. 
 
 " I don't think he did. No. I am sure he did not." 
 
 " The arch hypocrite ! Did Mrs. Woodruff become person- 
 ally acquainted with other persons at the party beside you and 
 my friend Marion ?" asked Miss Norris. 
 
 " Oh, yes, to be sure ; with many," replied the Count. 
 
 " Name them, every one, male and female," said Clara. 
 
 " She talked with Miss Irene Grasper, with Mrs. Parker, 
 and her niece, Miss Julia, and she was also introduced to Mr. 
 Doemall, an Irish gentleman. Some say he is a peer," re- 
 plied the Count. 
 
 " Are those all ?" demanded Miss Norris. 
 
 "Upon my honor, Mademoiselle Norris, I think those I have 
 named are all," was the Count's reply. 
 
 " Count, I like you. I wish you to steer clear of the break- 
 ers. May I confide to you a secret for your own good, not 
 mine ?" asked Miss Norris. 
 
 " You may," replied the Count. 
 
 " You say Nordheim did not appear to know that woman. 
 He lied by his actions, and is worse than I dreamed him to be, 
 to introduce her to his home," said Clara. 
 
 "He did not invite her there. 'It was -done without the 
 knowledge of Mr. Nordheim. I know that to be a fact. I had 
 it from Marion, and he will not lie." 
 
 " That is true, and Nordheim is not quite so black as I 
 thought him to be. Count, listen to me, but never repeat it. 
 Use the knowledge for your own purposes, but do not. use it to 
 save others. Count, you know that I was bought by Nordheim 
 and brought to the city. You do not know, but now I will tell 
 you, the first week that I spent in New York, before this house 
 was ready for me, I spent in that luxurious mansion now, as 
 then, occupied by Mrs. Woodruff." 
 
 The Count did not trust himself to speak for several mo- 
 ments. His eyes were busily engaged upon the rich flowers 
 of the tapestry carpet that covered the floor.
 
 VIGOR. 123 
 
 " That carpet cost four dollars a yard, Count. You need 
 not examine its texture more closely." 
 
 The Count smiled. 
 
 " Mademoiselle, I am too astounded to say any thing. What 
 a game my lady Woodruff must be playing ?" 
 
 " She is a fearful a terrible female, Count. Tt is real 
 friendship for you that has made me open your eyes. She is 
 the more to be dreaded because she moves in the very highest 
 circles, and spreads devastation wholesale. Count, for some 
 purpose you are saving money with all a miser's eagerness. 
 Don't look so astonished. I know it. A little bird tells me 
 all that you do. I, too, am saving money. For what purpose 
 I know not, but this I do know, the power of money. I will 
 never be poor again while there are gulls and pigeons to bo 
 plucked. Use the information I have given you. Show this 
 pious lady that you at least know her, and make her pay pay 
 that's the word if she uses you. As you regard me, 
 breathe not a word if you were to see your best friend's wife 
 going into those double hall doors in Bond street," said Clara. 
 
 " I thank you, Mademoiselle Clara, a million of times. I 
 will make that lady pay before she has done with me. You 
 shall see what you shall see before the play is over. Now for 
 the German lesson. You will need but three or four more, 
 and then you will speak English, French, Spanish and Ger- 
 man. The next shall be the Italian, eh ?" 
 
 " Yes, Count. Italian next. Answer me one question. Tell 
 me what you think of the intrigue between Mr. Nordheim and 
 Mrs. Tom Granville. Tell me honestly and truly. You are a 
 man of the world. Will that lady succumb to the infamous 
 man ?" 
 
 "No. Upon my soul. She is too clever too spirituelle. 
 He pays her money largely, too. I know that. Five hundred 
 one thousand. But she takes it is civil goes with him 
 all about, but, lady that Mrs. Granville loves her husband. 
 It is true, and she is honest." 
 
 " A precious pup for a sensible man to love, and yet, poor 
 Tom, he is a delightful, harmless fellow. I do not think Tom 
 would hurt a chicken. No ; not a fly. But he does not know 
 the value of money. I gave him fifty dollars one morning last 
 week, and what do you think he did that evening 1 Came to 
 me for more. It is true, and when I asked what on earth he 
 had done with it, he pulled from it a note of that precious 
 scamp Cedar's for sixty dollars, and told me had made ten 
 dollars by cashing it," said Clara.
 
 124 VIGOR. 
 
 " Mr. Cedar's note is not, then, worth much ?" asked the 
 alarmed Count. 
 
 " Not worth so much as the paper was before he wrote his 
 name upon it. Beware of that English genius, Count," ob- 
 served Miss Norris. 
 
 " I will take care of him, and thank you, too, for had you not 
 told me this, I should have given him two hundred dollars for 
 his draft upon his publishers for two hundred and fifty," said 
 the Count. 
 
 " And you would have lost every cent. I .don't think his 
 publishers owe him a penny. Yet that man would challenge 
 you if you dared insinuate that he was any thing but au hon- 
 orable man. Count, is not this a very queer world ?'' sarcas- 
 tically observed Miss Norris. 
 
 " The people in it are very queer a very curious people. 
 Mademoiselle, tell me about Doctor Carnochan." 
 
 " lie is a young man of decided talent, and he will one day 
 rise to the very head of his profession, if he lives. He has it 
 in him. At present he is, from the force of circumstances, a 
 wild, dissipated, useless man, and his companions are of the 
 most worthless class. Does he want money of you, too, 
 Count ?" asked Miss Norris. 
 
 " No. But.it may be in my power to throw some practice in 
 his way/' kindly added the Count. 
 
 " Do so if you can, Count. He will earn more than the 
 usual fee as compared with other doctors. Tell me how Ma- 
 rion Monck gets on with his languages," asked the lady. 
 
 " He has already mastered several of the most difficult. His 
 parents were Dutch, so that it came natural to him to acquire 
 the German, which is a sort of first cousin to low Dutch." 
 
 " What is the difference between German and low Dutch ?" 
 asked Clara. 
 
 " The German, or Hoch Deutsch, is spoken all through Ger- 
 many. The Neder Detitch, or Low Dutch, is the language of 
 the Hollanders, or the Ncderlanders, which, in English, is low- 
 landers, in contradistinction to the Hoch Deutsch or high Ger- 
 mans or rather high-land Dutchmen. Now shall we proceed 
 with your German lesson ?" 
 
 " With pleasure, Count," was her reply. 
 
 An hour afterward the Count sent a note from th?\ office to 
 Mrs. Woodruff.
 
 VIGOR. 125 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Harrison Street Colonel Mac Neil's private Home M>ss McPherson and lif.r 
 two Children A Breakfast Scene with Wdly and Patsy The Colonel set- 
 tles a House on his Children, and places two thousand dollars in the Savings 
 Bank for them Redeeming traits in a Fashionable Bud Man's character. 
 
 SUCH of our readers as are familiar with New York, will re- 
 member a street in the lower part of the town, running from 
 Hudson street to the North river, named Harrison street. As 
 it was known a hundred years ago by the saiuo name, it could 
 not have been named after our General Harrison, or more re- 
 cently President Harrison, but must have honored some Eng- 
 lish family. Be this as it may, in this same street, at No. 27, 
 the first door from Greenwich street, stands or did stand a 
 small two story brick house. It rented for three hundred dol- 
 lars a year, and was occupied by two families. The lower part, 
 save a back kitchen, was rented by a worthy butcher and his 
 small family, while the upper or second story was occupied by 
 a lady and her two children, one a boy about five years of age, 
 that his mother called William, and a little girl three years 
 old, with the pretty cognomen of Patsy. The front room of the 
 second story was plainly but comfortably furnished as a parlor. 
 The rear room contained a bed, and between the two rooms 
 was a third small room in which was placed a trundle bed for 
 the children. It was a cold December morning, only a week 
 after the party at Mrs. Nordheim's house in Bond street, when 
 the bell rang at No. 27. The mother of the two children had 
 just placed their and her simple breakfast upon the table in the 
 small back kitchen in the basement, where she had a cooking 
 stove and a pantry. This also was a portion of her part of the 
 house, for which she paid an annual rent of one hundred and 
 twenty dollars. The bell rang a second time. 
 
 " Go to the door, Willie ; who knows but it is your papa 1 
 It sounds like his ring." 
 
 The little boy was off like a rocket, and in a moment after- 
 ward a heavy footstep was heard descending the kitchen stairs. 
 He entered the room with the boy in his arms, and placed him 
 on his feet ; and then the lady flung herself in the gentleman's
 
 12() VIGOR. 
 
 arms, uttering but one word, " William !" He gently displaced 
 the lady, and then took up the little girl, and kissed her fondly. 
 
 " I am just in time for breakfast, Jane, eh ?" and he took a 
 seat. 
 
 " William, if we had but known you were coming we 
 have not a breakfast'fit for you to eat," observed Jane. 
 
 " Don't you and the children eat that breakfast 1 ? and if so, 
 is it not good enough for me ?" asked Ool. Mac Neil. 
 
 " Don't be angry with me, William I did not mean any 
 thing. But you, who are so used to living at hotels, could 
 hardly expect to'enjoy such a breakfast as this. But why have 
 you kept away so long ?" she asked. 
 
 " Business, Jane. Business, pleasure, every thing. But 
 now let us have a nice breakfast. Here is money send out 
 and get any thing nice that you c;m find," observed the Colonel. 
 
 " I will go myself, if you will mind the children while I am 
 gone, Colonel," she replied. 
 
 " That I will do with pleasure ;" and he took a child upon 
 each knee, and kissed, caressed and played alternately with 
 them until the mother returned. It was not long before the 
 good mother had a very choice breakfast smoking on the table, 
 and all partook of it, while the father, for so he was, of those 
 two children exerted himself to the utmost to make a pleasant 
 time of it. An hour elapsed before the happy family had fin- 
 ished the meal. Then the gentleman, who was no other than 
 Colonel William Mac Neil, asked if there was a fire up stairs. 
 Receiving a reply in the affirmative, he continued : " Jane, 
 send Willy and Patsy up stairs we will follow presently ; but 
 I have a few words to say to you alone." 
 
 The children went up stairs, little Willy leading by the 
 hand the tottersome Patsy. When they were gone, the Colonel 
 drew out a segar from a rich shagreen segar case, and delibe- 
 rately lit it. 
 
 " Come and sit down by me, Jane." 
 
 She complied in silence, her looks expressing wonder as to 
 what was to come next. 
 
 " Jane, I idolize those children. I wish to God you were 
 my legal wife, for you are a true-hearted, loving woman. Don't 
 cry, darling, but listen to me. You think I could easily legal- 
 ize them, and marry you. No, no that is a dream ; it is too 
 late my cursed pride will not let roe do it. That is not all ; 
 I must marry a woman who has money, or be a disgraced bank- 
 rupt. Yet, you iior those two dear children shall ever want,
 
 VIGOR. 127 
 
 or be dependent even upon me. I am a rascal, Jane, so far as 
 you are concerned : I know it I feel it. But, thank God, I 
 Lave placed you and those dear ones so that you can never 
 want. Are you listening ?" said the Colonel, with emotion. 
 
 " Surely, Mac, I have not lost a word. Go on I hope you 
 have nothing worse to tell me," she observed. 
 
 " Jane, I have saved up and withdrawn from my business 
 seven thousand dollars, and with it I have purchased arouse 
 in Franklin street near Broadway. The lot is twenty-five feet 
 by one hundred, and sixteen years hence, when Willy is of 
 age, that property will be double or treble in value. I have 
 deeded it to you, Jane McPherson, in trust for Willy and 
 Patsy. The house is a good one, and now rents for six hun- 
 dred and fifty duliars per annum, and has a good tenant. That 
 rent you must draw and live on, in case I am unable to do any 
 thing more for you. That is not all. Here is two thousand 
 duliars that I won in gambling some time ago. It is but a par- 
 tial return of ten times that amount that I have lost at gam- 
 bling. It is yours take it to a Savings Bank, and place it 
 there at interest in your own or in Willy's name your own 
 is better, and then you will have two sources of income." 
 
 The poor young mother was weeping. " Mac dear Mac, 
 why do you do this ? Are you going away ? I don't want it ; 
 you allow us all we want !" she exclaimed. 
 
 " Listen, Jane. When I signed that deed, 1 had deter- 
 mined to offer myself that night to a very wealthy young lady. 
 I expected to be accepted, and I then determined to act hon- 
 orably by her ; and to do so I intended that deed as a pro- 
 vision for you and my dear children, and then to bid you fare- 
 well, and see you no more," said the Colonel. 
 
 " Mac, could you have the heart to do it 1 ? Could you 
 part with those two little precious ones, and never see them 
 more ? 0, it was a cruel thought !" said Jane. 
 
 " Be calm I am. I have not yet done. I offered myself 
 to the girl, and she accepted me. Don't start off in that man- 
 ner. Then I saw her father one of the wealthiest men in the 
 city. He refused to countenance the marriage, and what was 
 still more, situated as I am, he swore before God that if his 
 daughter married me, she should never receive a cent. He 
 had heard of our affairs of our children, Jane, and he said he 
 did not thick I could support two families. That was quite 
 enough for me, Jane. The affair is at an end, and I shall pro- 
 bably never marry."
 
 128 VIGOR. 
 
 The mother flung herself into his arras, and kissed the Col- 
 onel in the most fond manner. 
 
 " Hear me out, Jane, and know the worst. I have secured 
 you from want, and the deed is irrevocable ; but Heaven only 
 knows how soon I may be a beggar. The affairs of my firm are 
 in a terrible state. My partner thinks that he can carry the 
 concern through. He is buying produce on credit, and ship- 
 ping^t to Europe, or any where else where he can get cash 
 advances upon the shipments. If those shipments turn out 
 well, we are safe, and shall keep afloat. If not but I don't 
 dare to think of it. This thought though consoles me come 
 what will, you and Willy and Patsy are provided fur," contin- 
 ued the Colonel feelingly. 
 
 " But, dear Mac, if this would serve you, I will deed it back 
 to you, and you could sell it again, and also take the two thou- 
 sand dollars," observed Jane. 
 
 " You are an unselfish being, Jane but no, no. It would 
 not be a drop in the bucket. Do exactly as I have to d you, 
 and I will continue to give you what funds you need, just as 
 though the nine thousand dollar provision had not been made. 
 If I am fortunate and get through my own difiiculties, you will 
 have the interest every year to add to the principal, and in a 
 few years you will have quite a little sum. Now kiss me, and 
 then let us go up stairs and join Willy and Patsy. After all 
 there are some happy moments for the most miserable, and I 
 will come and breakfast with you soon again," said the Colonel. 
 
 " Dear Mac, it makes the children so happy." 
 
 The haughty Colonel Mac Neil played and romped with his 
 children until dinner was ready, and then he diaed with them 
 Before evening he was again at his hotel. 
 
 There are some redeeming traits in even the most worldly 
 of men. And this is a redeeming chapter, and shall stand by 
 itself.
 
 VIGOR. 129 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 The Italian Opera House in Churrh street The Character of the Subscribers 
 Mr. Nordheim a Director A Tragedy Night Mr. Nordheim insulin a la<ly 
 in the Dress Circle iJis Spectacles driven into tiis ey.s by a Brother His 
 removal 1o the City Hospital Francis G'tillaid of South Carolina Mr. 
 Granville dissolces the Jinn of Granville Is, Nordheim T>>e Notice Lint of 
 the Daily Newspapers Feelings of Mis* Norrix Her Proposition to Torn 
 Granville The Days that the \Vifc of Mr. Nordheim spent at the Hosjri- 
 tul with her dying husband Nordheim's Will Ilia Death and Funeral. 
 
 IN the year 183 , a company of persons who would be ex- 
 tremely exclusive, determined to put up a building and open 
 an Italian Opera House in this city. To carry out their de- 
 sign, they purchased sufficient ground on the corner of Church 
 and Leonard streets, and proceeded to put up a large and 
 handsome building. When this Opera House was finished, an 
 arrangement was made for a manager, and a regular stock 
 Italian Opera Company was established in New York city. It 
 was a mixod-up sort of concern. At first it was a regular 
 stock company. Then private boxes were disposed of to par- 
 ticular families for life, in order to raise money ; and then 
 commenced a system of begging, borrowing, and voluntary 
 contributions, until all hands became disgusted, and the build- 
 ing passed from the opera people to the mortgagee, and he 
 leased it for a regular theatrQ to James Wallack, who opened 
 it under the title of the National Theatre. 
 
 But to return to the Italian crowd. The parties who got 
 up the Italian opera were not the old Knickerbocker stock in- 
 habitants. They were a parvenu population people who had 
 been successful as brokers, merchants, stock gamblers, real 
 estate speculators, and other modes by which fortunes are sud- 
 denly accumulated in this great metropolis. Many of the 
 parties had travelled in Europe to acquire business, and form 
 commercial connexions. They had visited Paris and London, 
 and perceiving how aristocratic the Italian opera was in those 
 cities, they considered that to become interested in an Italian 
 opera in New York would give them an aristocratic position 
 These were the motives that actuated most of the patrons of
 
 '130 VIGOE. 
 
 the early Italian opera in New York. It is needless to say 
 that they paid dear for the Italian whistle, and it got broken 
 in a very short period of time. 
 
 Among those who took a very active part in the Italian ope- 
 ra was Mr. Nordheim. He spoke Italian fluently, and he was 
 not only allowed to spend his money in the enterprise without 
 stint, but he was also permitted to take a very active part in 
 the details. The Finance Committee knew no more about Ita- 
 lian than they did about Greek, and Mr. Nordheim translated 
 between the false Italian Prince and Princess actors, and their 
 Wall street financiers. 
 
 The Italian opera opened during the month of the party at 
 Mrs. Nordheim's, and Mr. Nordheim placed at his wife's dis- 
 posal a private box, and she filled it almost every night with 
 some of her friends. She was generally attended thither by 
 Mr. Wilson or Marion sometimes by both. The Count 
 Falsechinski received tickets frequently for Miss Norris and 
 himself, and occasionally Tom Granville made up a party for 
 one of the front seats in the dress circle. It was April. The 
 bill for that night was very attractive. Mrs. Nordheim was in 
 her private box with a party. Marion Monck was there also 
 and so was Isabella Granvile. On the right side of the dresa 
 circle, Miss Norris, with the Count and Tom Granville, occu- 
 pied three seats. 
 
 Shortly after the curtain rose, Mr. Nordheim was seen to 
 enter the dress circle by a door directly opposite the centre 
 of the building. He took a seat on the third bench. Directly 
 in front of him was a gentleman accompanied by a lady of 
 rare and surpassing beauty. It was noticed by those in the 
 neighborhood that Mr. Nordheim endeavored to attract the no- 
 tice of the beautiful woman who occupied the seat directly in 
 front of him. Once she turned Her head almost around, and 
 gazed at him with an expression that denoted the most violent 
 anger, and then seemed absorbed with what was passing on 
 the stage. 
 
 I may have omitted to mention that Mr. Nordheim was near- 
 sighted, and wore gold spectacles. He never was without 
 them. Hundreds who were present that eventful evening, 
 well remember the fearful scream of agony which rung 
 through that Opera House, although the extent of the tragedy 
 in the dress circle was not dreamed of that night. Again that 
 lady turned and looked indignantly at Mr. Nordheim, who 
 smiled and partly bowed. It was noticed that the lady whis- 
 pered to the gentleman with her. She quietly informed him
 
 VIGOR. 13 1 
 
 that the person on the rear seat had put his hand upon her per- 
 son in an improper manner. 
 
 " Can you point him out to me distinctly ?" whispered the 
 brother for so he proved to be. 
 
 " Yes, Frank, he is seated directly behind me, with his 
 knees upon the seat where I am sitting. Frank, he has 
 pinched me behind again !" . 
 
 " Keep perfectly quiet, Emily don*t move," and as he 
 said this he rose io his feet, turned his back to the stage so as 
 to face Nordheim, and rapidly drew back his arm, and with 
 all his force struck his fist directly in Nordheim's right eye. 
 There was one terrific scream. The glass had broken, and the 
 force of the blow had driven several of the particles into the 
 right eye of the unfortunate Nordheim. There was an instant 
 rush, and much confusion. The gentlemen remained perfectly 
 calm and did not move an inch. Nordheim had fainted with 
 the intense agony from the pierced eyeball. Shouts arose from 
 the parterre. " Turn him out !" The gallery re-echoed " Turn 
 him out !" Meanwhile Marion Monck, the Count, and some 
 others of the acquaintance of Mr. Nordheim, hurried to the 
 spot, just as he had been carried out of the boxes. They all 
 saw at once the nature of the wound. Then the gentleman 
 who had inflicted it came out and explained what had occurred 
 regretting that he had inflicted so terrible a punishment. A 
 carriage was procured. By this time Pitt Granville had 
 learned what had occurred. " Take him at once to the New 
 York Hospital," was his peremptory order. Mr. Nordheim 
 was with difficulty placed in the carriage. His agony was fear- 
 ful. 
 
 " Go and tell Mrs. Nordheim what has happened, and take 
 her home, Marion. I will be up there as soon as Nordheim is 
 better or worse. The hospital is the only place, for he needs 
 immediate surgical aid. Mr. Wilson, go with me." 
 
 These sensible orders of Pitt Granville were rapidly carried 
 into execution, and the carriage drove around to the hospital 
 gate. Mr. Roberts, the Superintendent, was an old friend of 
 Mr. Granville, and luckily happened to be in the office. A 
 proper room was instantly arranged, and Mr. Nordheim was 
 taken into it. Then the leading surgeons were sent for. They 
 tried to extract the broken pieces of glass, but only partially 
 succeeded. Mr. Nordheim was a raving maniac. 
 
 But I must carry back my readers to the Opera House. 
 When Mrs. Nordheim had learned tire particulars of the acci- 
 dent, she refused to go home, but left her party, and with
 
 132 VIGOR. 
 
 Marion went directly to the hospital inner gate, where the 
 little house of the gate-keeper is, and asked permission to go 
 in and see her husband. She was refused politely but posi- 
 tively and she at once got into a carriage and went home to 
 Bond street. Soon after, a gentleman appeared at the gate 
 and asked permission to see one of the officers of the hospital. 
 Be was shown inside to Mr. Koberts. 
 
 " Here is my card, 'sir. I am the person who struck the 
 blow at the opera." 
 
 Mr. Roberts took the card and read, " Francis Gaillard, at 
 Mrs. Mann's, No. 85 Broadway." 
 
 " The accident, sir, I fear will terminate seriously, and I 
 will uso this card, as you may be called upon to give some 
 explanation. How did it happen ?" inquired Mr. Roberts. 
 
 The stranger, whose name was Gaillard, replied, " I am a 
 South Carolinian, on a visit here with my mother and sister. I 
 took my sister to the Italian opera this evening. After the 
 performance had commenced, she told me that a person on the 
 seat behind her had insulted her, and I at once struck him." 
 
 " Served the d libertine right," was the only comment 
 
 made by the indignant but honest Mr. Roberts. 
 
 " I took my sister to Mrs. Mann's boarding-house, and 
 came at once to give myself up in case of need. Will it be 
 necessary for me to do any thing more ?" 
 
 " No. Go home as though nothing had happened. If he 
 dies to-night, or within a few days, a coroner's inquest will be 
 held, and you will have to be on hand ; but it is a disgraceful 
 affair, and unless Nordheim dies immediately it will be hushed 
 up. Good night." 
 
 " Thank you good night," and the stranger Gaillard passed 
 out of the hospital. 
 
 The Count conveyed the horrified Clara Norris to Broome 
 street, and then left her, promising to return as soon as he had 
 paid a visit to the hospital. He, too, was refused admission, 
 but as he was passing out of the gate he was overtaken by Mr. 
 Pitt Granville and Mr. Wilson. 
 
 " Count, go at once to Mr. Nordheim's, in Bond street, see 
 Marion Monck, get the keys of the store, and come directly to 
 the City Hotel." 
 
 The Count went on his errand, and when Pitt Granville and 
 his book-keeper were walking alone, the former said, abruptly, 
 " Wilson, this sort of thing has got to be stopped. I am tired 
 of it. Such proceedings by one of the members of a mercan- 
 tile firm are ruinous."
 
 VIGOR. 133 
 
 " I think so, sir. It will be known on change to-morrow, 
 and even if Mr. Nordheim gets well, I don't see how he can 
 explain it." 
 
 " Explain. There is no explanation needed. I can put up 
 with a great many things, but this is a beastly concern alto- 
 gether. Come what will, I am not going to associate with him 
 any more as a partner." 
 
 " But how are you to end the partnership ? You have no 
 right to " asked Mr. Wilson. 
 
 " I know what you mean ; but right or wrong, you will see 
 what course I shall pursue under the present painful circum- 
 stances. Wait until I get into the office.' 1 
 
 They reached the City Hotel, and Mr. Granville ordered 
 whiskey punch for himself and for Mr. Wilson. They finished 
 the first glass, and then Mr. Granville ordered one more for 
 himself, as Mr. Wilson refused, and he requested him to go 
 and find Colonel Benson, and meet him at the office as speedily 
 as -possible. Soon after the Count and Marion joined him, and 
 all proceeded to the counting-house in Broad street. It was 
 opened. Then Colonel Benson and Wilson arrived. Books 
 were got out of the safe. Accounts were examined. The con- 
 sultation was held, and finally Mr. Granville came out of his 
 private office with a paper in his hand. 
 
 " Marion, I want you to make several copies of this. Take 
 one to each of the following daily papers : 
 
 " The Daily Mercantile Advertiser, 
 " Gazette, 
 
 Courier and Enquirer, 
 " Journal of Commerce, 
 
 " Standard, 
 
 41 Post, 
 
 " Commercial, 
 " N. Y. American." 
 
 Marion complied. The next morning the following could 
 have been read in either of the five morning dailies : 
 
 "VTOTICE. The co-partnership heretofore existing under the firm of Granvilie * 
 J^( Nordheim is this day dissolved. The liquidation of the affairs of the latu firm 
 will be attended to by the undersigned, who will continue to carry on a General 
 Commission Business under his own name. 
 
 \V. PITT GRANVILLE, 
 
 At No. ol Broad street. 
 NEW YORK, April 10, 1S3-. 
 
 When Marion returned from the publishing offices of the 
 morning journals, he found Mr. Granville and Mr. Wilson in 
 the main office. The Count had left. So had Culonel Benson.
 
 13 i VIGOR. 
 
 11 Have you put those advertisements in the morning pa. 
 pers ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. I was in time with all of them." 
 
 " When you go home tell Mrs. Nordheim what I have found 
 it necessary to do, with promptness, to save the credit of this 
 concern. She can appoint you or Mr. Wilson to act for her in- 
 terest, should he die. He may recover his senses enough to 
 make a will. 'If he does not, Mrs. Nordheim has her settle- 
 ment of two thousand dollars a year to fall back upon, and one- 
 third interest in his property. He has been spending a fear- 
 ful amount of money lately, and Mr. Wilson 'thinks his share 
 of the profits is not only drawn out, but also a large portion of 
 his stock capital in the concern. -We shall know in a few 
 days." 
 
 The Count Falsechinski, when he left the office, although it 
 was nearly midnight, went up to Broome street. He found 
 Miss Norris waiting for him. Tom Granville was there. 
 
 " Nordheinr will die, or be insane for life," said the Count. 
 
 " Is that your opinion, Count ?" asked Tom, who seemed 
 pleased at the idea. 
 
 " It is. The firm is dissolved by Mr. Granville, and notices 
 to that effect will appear in all the daily papers to-morrow." 
 
 " Then good-bye, Ferdinand Nordheim. You have been a 
 source of good and a curse to me. Now I will fight my own 
 battles and play my own game in life, for you are dead so far 
 as I am concerned in any event. Shall we make up a card 
 party to-night ?" 
 
 " Thank you. No. I must get home, for I have much to 
 do to-morrow. Are you walking down town, Tom 1" 
 
 " No ; he is not going down town these two hours yet," spoke 
 Clara. 
 
 She showed the Count to the door, and then returned. 
 
 " This is a funny business, all round, ain't it, Clara ?" said 
 Tom. 
 
 " Tom Granville, answer me one question. You have stated 
 to me that you believe your wife and Nordheim were engaged 
 in a criminal intimacy. Answer me now, as God will be your 
 Judge. Do you, in your inmost soul, believe that ?" demanded 
 Clara. 
 
 " I do solemnly," replied the husband Tom. 
 
 " Why do you not take steps to get a divorce from your 
 wife, then, if you believe her guilty and faithless to your hon- 
 or 1" asked Miss Norris. 
 
 " Never. I have loved that woman. Perhaps love her yet,
 
 VIGOR. 135 
 
 but I will never take any steps to get divorced from her," re- 
 plied good-natured Tom Granville. 
 
 " Suppose she, however, should try to get divorced from you. 
 She could do it," said Miss Norris. 
 
 " Let her do so. I will make no objection." 
 
 " Tom, do you believe I have been true to my master to 
 Nordheim ?" asked Clara. 
 
 " I do. I know I can speak for myself, Clara," said Tom, 
 
 " Tom, it is true. I have been as faithful to that man as if , 
 I had been his wedded wife, but it is all over now. He is. no 
 more to me than if he was dead. His money is gone, even if 
 he lives. He has been fearfully extravagant. You say that 
 you will never live with your wife again ?" said Clara. 
 
 " Never," replied Tom Granville. 
 
 " Will you live here, Tom ? and devote yourself to my com- 
 fort ? Go with me when I go out ? I need a protector. I 
 will pay for one, but no nonsense with me. No jealousy, or 
 any thing of that sort. I will be as free as a bird, go and come 
 when I please, see Thom I please, dance, fliht, coquette, or 
 play the fool with whom I please, and you are not to open your 
 lips. I like you, but 1 don't love you. You are amusing a 
 gentleman and you shall have the means to carry on the war 
 as such. You don't keep me. I keep you. Do you agree to 
 these conditions ? and have you force of character enough to 
 stick to them ?" she asked. 
 
 " I have, Clara," was the reply. 
 
 " Very well. Our bargain is made, but mark me, the very 
 
 first moment you deviate from our understanding, or show any 
 
 jealousy, or any dislike to my being intimate with whom I 
 
 please, that moment we part. Now you may kiss me, and seal 
 
 . the bargain," she pleasantly remarked. 
 
 Poor easy, good-natured Tom Grauville. Little did you 
 dream, whem completing this arrangement, that you were sign- 
 ing the death-warrant for your future hopes of earthly domes- 
 tic happiness, and degrading yourself to the lowest of mankind 
 the kept man <_f a fancy woman ! Leaving these worldly 
 ones, our reader will go with us to the hospital. Nordheim be- 
 came worse and worse. The next day his wife spent several 
 hours by his bedside. He did not recognize her. Day after 
 day she visited him, until the inflammation, which had reached 
 his brain, became so certain of ending fatally, that a lawyer, 
 Charles S. Spencer, was employed to remain with him con- 
 stantly, under the hope that he might become sane for a few 
 moments ere he died. Two weeks after the accident, his wife
 
 136 VIGOR. 
 
 called, and found him, for the first time, perfectly conscious of 
 every thing around him. His partner was sent for. The law- 
 yer asked the Physician Surgeon how long he might live. 
 
 " Until evening." 
 
 Then occurred a painful scene a death-bed repentance. He 
 dictated a will. It was short. He left all to his wife. All 
 every thing. Except the furniture of the Jiouse in which 
 Clara Norris lived, that he gave to her, and also five hundred 
 dollars. He signed articles dissolving the firm, and authorizing 
 his wife to close up the affairs as best suited herself, and he 
 made Mr. Granville give a solemn promise that in case his half 
 interest in the concern should not leave a respectable sum for 
 his wife, that he would give her one-third interest in the future 
 business, or take into partnership any one she should desig- 
 nate. Frank Gaillard was sent for. When he reached the 
 bed of the dying man he was much agitated, and expressed the 
 deepest regret for what had occurred. 
 
 " Not a word more. You served me right. Tell your sis- 
 ter that a dying man begs her forgiveness^ for the outrage he 
 committed." 
 
 Mr. Nordheim lingered on through the day, but just after 
 sunset, when twilight was deepening into dark over the trees 
 and around the old hospital windows, Nordheim sank into what 
 appeared a gentle sleep. Mr. Granville first discovered that 
 he was dead. Mrs. Nordheim pressed her lips to the dead 
 man, and was then led out of the room That night the coffin 
 containing his body was conveyed to Bond street. The suc- 
 ceeding day it was transferred to a cemetery, and the trou- 
 bles, the pleasures, the rascalities, and the redeeming qualities 
 of the unfortunate Nordheim were over forever. 
 
 CHAPTER XXYI. 
 
 New Street thirty years ago The store of Mr John ODoemall His Business 
 The Debt of three hundred and j'onr dollars and seventy-two cents, and 
 how it was liquidated Mr. Granville's Instructions The Story of the Irish- 
 woman, and how O'Doemall victimized her out of seventy-two dollars' worth 
 of shirts, and ruined her sister and husband A Bad Character. 
 
 BETWEEN Broadway and Broad street, running from Wall 
 to Beaver, is a little narrow street called the New street, al- 
 though it is one of the oldest streets in the city. Thirty years 
 ago it seemed to be used for no other purpose than for an alley
 
 VIGOR. 137 
 
 to the two main streets of Broadway or Broad. A sort of 
 sewer ran through it. Some of the houses on Broadway had 
 stables in the rear, facing on New strep},. An occasional dwel- 
 ling house occupied by French dry goods importers on Broad 
 had a solid stone warehouse on New street. No. 20 New 
 street was used as a building of that description. The walls 
 were two feet thick, with small windows, closed by two straight 
 iron bars and an iron shutter. On this store was a large sign, 
 "John O'Doemall, Wine Merchant" There was an office in 
 the rear on the first floor. In it was one desk. The floor 
 contained eight, or perhaps ten gin pipes, whiskey puncheons, 
 and a pile of champagne baskets. All were empty. In the 
 office was a plain table, and upon it was a couple of wine 
 glasses, two glass tumblers, and some sample bottles. Mr. 
 O'Doemall is at his desk. He is seated in .a cushioned arm- 
 chair, with one leg cocked over the desk, and is engaged in 
 reading the Courier and Enquirer. 
 
 A customer enters. Mr. O'Doemall drops his leg and re- 
 moves the paper from his face. 
 
 " Oh, ah, my friend Marion Monck. Good morning. Real- 
 ly, I am quite happy to see you. Sit down. Take a seat. 
 Where is my clerk ? Here, Thomas." 
 
 But the aforesaid Thomas, the clerk, is an invisibility. 
 
 " I have called, Mr. O'Doemall, at the request of Mr. Gran- 
 ville, to obtain some sort of a settlement with you. Mr. 
 Nordheiui, unbeknown to his partner at the time, sold you 
 goods to the extent of three hundred and four dollars and 
 odd " said young Monck. 
 
 " Exactly. Three hundred and four dollars and seventy-two 
 cents. I know the precise amount. A mere trifle, which 
 ought to have been paid long ago, but I overlooked it. Surely, 
 Mr. Granville would nob send you to collect so small an amount 
 as that." 
 
 " He did so, and if it is not convenient for you to pay the 
 money, he would like to have you give your note, adding the 
 interest for ninety days, or even four months." 
 
 " I forgot to ask you how Mrs. Nordheim is poor lady 
 great misfortune. Nordheim was a good fellow. Queer. If 
 Nordheim had lived, he would never have been so mean as to 
 send for that pitiful sum. How do you know but what I have 
 a receipt for it ? In fact, I don't think Ljan pay that note. 
 Nordheim owes me, let me see, three hundred dollars at John 
 Florence's, two hundred and ten dollars one night in Broadway 
 ' and d - it, man, I could not think of paying it at present.
 
 138 TIGOR. 
 
 N 
 
 I must look up some of Nordheim's I Us. I dare say they 
 are in one of my cast off vest pockets," replied the impudent 
 O'Doemall. 
 
 " If you have any receipts from Mr. Nordheim, or any claim 
 against him note due bill, or positive evidence that Mr. 
 Nordheim owed you a dollar, Mr. Granville will allow it," 
 said Monck. 
 
 " Of course he will. I knew he was an honorable man. I 
 have them somewhere. That is a beautiful daughter of Gran- 
 ville's, Isabella. You are to marry her, I suppose ? Couldn't 
 do better, and I shall tell my friend Granville so," said O'Do- 
 emall. 
 
 " Really, Mr. O'Doemall, I trust you will do nothing so fool- 
 ish. I have no idea that is, I am not engaged to her, and " 
 said Monck, embarrassed. 
 
 " I will speak to Gran about it. You are a first rate match 
 for his daughter. She is pretty, and will have the rhino, eh ?" 
 said O'Doemall. 
 
 " Really, Mr. O'Doemall, I cannot converse with you upon 
 such a subject. I called to settle an account. If you will 
 not settle it, I will so say to Mr. Granville when I return to 
 the store." 
 
 " Very well, sir. I could pay, I believe, twenty such ac- 
 counts, if I owed them. I believe W. Pitt Granville is good, 
 and you can say to him that if he wants to borrow eight, or 
 even as high as twelve thousand, I can let him have it at ten 
 minutes' warning," said the audacious Irishman. 
 
 " I will mention the circumstance to Mr. Granville, and I 
 wish you good morning," coolly observed Monck. 
 
 " Bye-bye. Drop in any time and take a glass of wine," 
 said the indomitable O'Doemall. 
 
 " What an infernal scamp," was Mr. Granville's comment 
 upon Marion's report. " Never mind, Marion ; I want you to 
 call every day upon that impudent fellow until you shame him 
 into paying it. Nordheim owe him ! He never owed any 
 body in his life. He was uncommonly particular in that re- 
 gard," continued Mr. Granville. 
 
 " I think it will be a waste of my time, but as you wish it, I 
 will call until I see there is no hope. Shame him ! That will 
 be a tiresome job," was Marion's comment upon the business. 
 
 The next day Marion went again in No. 20 New street, but 
 at a later hour. The clerk, Thomas, was there, engaged play- 
 ing marbles on the store floor with another boy. 
 
 " Where is Mr. O'Doemall ?" demanded Marion.
 
 VIGOR. 139 
 
 " Gone to dinner," replied the boy. 
 
 " Coming back soon ?" asked Marion. 
 
 " Immediately. Going to wait 1 Please tell him, sir, when 
 he comes, that I've gone home," and before Marion could ex- 
 press the least dissent to a proposition that left the responsi- 
 bility of the store and its goods upon him, the boy was out of 
 sight as well as hearing. 
 
 " I am in a fix. Suppose O'Doemall don't come at all ? But 
 I will wait awhile, anyhow." 
 
 Presently a very respectable-looking, middle-aged woman 
 entered, and enquired for Mr. O'Doemall. 
 
 " He is not in, madam, and will not be for some time. I am 
 waiting to see him about some money." 
 
 " Oh ; do you owe him any money, sir ?" asked the woman. 
 
 " No, indeed. But he owes me, or rather the firm that I am 
 a clerk with," replied Marion. 
 
 " And do you think he will pay you ? Do you think he will 
 pay me, or any body else he owes ?" 
 
 Marion looked at the woman, who was in a state of violent 
 excitement. 
 
 " Does he owe you much ?" he asked. 
 
 " Only seventy-two dollars, but it has ruined me, and my 
 husband goes out now to work at days' work. But perhaps 
 you, sir, can tell me what I ought to do. Mr. O'Doemall 
 served us a dirty trick." 
 
 " If you will tell me how he incurred the debt, with all the 
 particulars, if I can give you good advice, I will do so," said 
 Marion, who began to be interested in the matter. 
 
 " It is a long story, but I will tell you all about it. Well, 
 sir, you must know that me and my sister Mary used to do fine 
 needle-work in the old country. I married, and came to this 
 country with my husband, and he got a good situation. Then 
 he says to me, ' Now, Bridget dear, I am making a little 
 money, and we have got a little saved up, and as you and Mary 
 can do fine work, I^think the best we can do is to take a little 
 store somewhere up"" town, and you can make and sill shirts 
 and sich like, and gentlemen's underclothing, and I shall 
 be able to send a good many hotel people to buy of you." Well, 
 we got a little store just big enough to hold us and a few goods 
 up in Broadway, near Broome street. We had not been open 
 a great many weeks, but was doing uncommon well, when one 
 evening, bad luck to him, who should come in but Mr. O'Do- 
 emall. ' Ah,' said he, ' fine nice store. Show me some of your 
 best shirts. I must patronise you, and I will buy a dozen. I
 
 140 VIGOR. 
 
 want the finest linen shirts.' I showed him our best, and 
 asked him two dollars a piece. They would not do, but he 
 said, ' You seem honest young women, and I will trust you to 
 make me a dozen of the finest linen shirts at six dollars each, 
 I must have them in a week ; and more than that, if you do 
 them well, and suit me, I will bring young Coster, Astor, Lord 
 Lennox, and some other fashionable young fellows, my 
 friends, and we will get you up a firsr-rate bus! Less.' 
 Oh, sir, that O'Doemall has a tongue in his head, and he 
 wagged it to some purpose. He set me and my sister Mary 
 almost crazy. We thought our fortunes were more than made. 
 We took our good cash, and went and purchased the very 
 finest linen to make this dozen shirts, and we both worked 
 night and day until they were finished. One Saturday evening 
 he called for the shirts. They were all packed up ever so 
 nice. He winked and looked at every one, and he talked all 
 the while about his magnificent room, and that he could not 
 bear to stop at a hotel, and I do not know what. I thought 
 he was a marquis at least. At last he says 
 
 " ' Seventy-two dollars, eh ? That is cheap enough. I have 
 paid, in London, twenty guineas for shirts not half as good. 
 But you must send them round to my house in Prince street, 
 it is only a few doors.' 
 
 "I called my husband's little brother, Felix, and he took the 
 bundle. Then Mr. O'Doemall began to feel in his pockets, 
 and he took an old wood cane and laid it upon a chair. He 
 felt felt. I asked him if he had lost any thing. He said no, 
 but that he had dressed for dinner, and left two hundred 
 dollars in his vest pocket. 
 
 " ' It will make no difference,' said he ; ' your little boy can 
 be trusted, I suppose, and if so, I will give the seve*nty-two 
 dollars to him.' 
 
 " We told him to trust the boy we did not like to refuse to 
 let the shirts go, but he went, and the boy too. Presently the 
 boy returned. 
 
 " ' I want to get the gentleman's cane.V* 
 
 " ' Where are the shirts 1' 
 
 " ' He is holding the shirts while I came back for his 
 cane.' 
 
 " The poor boy went away again, but it was a long time 
 before he came back, and then it was to tell us that he could 
 not find Mr. O'Doemall. We could not believe that so gentle- 
 manly a person would commit so cruel a wrong upon two 
 women just starting business in a new country. But next
 
 VIGOR. J 4 I 
 
 clay we found that he had never lived in the house in Prince 
 street. It broke us up at our little place. So great a loss 
 disheartened us ; we did not try to do any more. It was 
 long before I found out where he did business. I have been 
 several times, but Mr. O'Doemall laughs at me. Says he will 
 pay me, but that I ought to pay him for teaching me a lesson 
 in not trusting. Oh, I don't know what to do. I am afraid 
 we will never get paid ;" and here the poor woman relieved 
 herself by a flood of tears. 
 
 " What a rascal he must be, to be sure ?" 
 
 " But that ain't all, sir. He got acquainted with my poor 
 sister Mary. She was a very beautiful girl, sir, and she met 
 him and took walks in St. John's Park with Mr. O'Doemall, 
 and she has never been herself since, and I foar, sir, she is 
 bewitched after him." 
 
 " Is it possible such a man is allowed to walk the streets ?" 
 
 " But I am not not quite done yet. My husband went to 
 Mr. O'Doemall, and gave him a piece of his mind. The very 
 next day he was turned out of his situation at the hotel, and I 
 do believe that Mr. O'Doemall was the occasion of it. Now he 
 goes out to days' work, when he can get any thing to do. 
 But here he comes, Mr. O'Doemall." 
 
 " Aha, my sweetest plant from ould Ireland is it there you 
 are ?" laughingly exclaimed O'Doemall and then noticing 
 Marion, he added, " and the future husband of the delicious 
 Miss G-ranville." 
 
 "Mr. O'Doemall, good-bye," exclaimed the indignant Ma- 
 rion as he left the store. That evening he told Mr. Granville 
 the story of the shirts, and the claim of three hundred dollars 
 was placed in a lawyer's hands. Marion was told that he 
 need not call on the New street wine merchant any more. 
 
 CHAPTER XXTO. 
 
 Increased Businrss of Mr. Granville Mrs, Tom Granville becomes hit 
 Houseketper The latter discovers the eng igement btioetn Marion Monck 
 and her Niece Communicates it to Mrs. Nordlieim Disappointment and 
 stern Resolve. 
 
 THE dissolution of the firm of Granville and Nordheim ap- 
 parently had no effect upon their extensive business. It was 
 continued to the new house of W. Pitt Granville, who, if there 
 was any change, largely increased their business. Mr. Gran-
 
 142 VIGOR. 
 
 ville devoted much more of his attention to business than ever. 
 He was at his office early in the morning, and except to go to 
 his meals, never left until ten o'clock at night. Some changes 
 had taken place at his home. Tom Granville had some time 
 previously left his house and home in Chambers street, to de- 
 vote his whole time to Miss Norris. As soon as it became evi- 
 dent to Mrs. Thomas Granville that her husband had utterly 
 abandoned her, and had openly connected himself with Miss 
 Norris which he did immediately after the death of Mr. Nord- 
 heim she sent a note to her brother-in-law, Pitt Granville.' 
 He came at once to Chambers street. 
 
 " Tell me nothing, Kate, about Tom. I know all. "What do 
 you intend to do ?" 
 
 " It is useless my incurring the expense of keeping house 
 alone, I think. I have no one but my sister, and she can take 
 her departure for Baltimore at any moment." 
 
 " Then give up the house at once, sell off the furniture to 
 the best advantage, and come and take charge of my house. 
 Isabel is too young to be burdened with a housekeeper's cares 
 and anxieties, and besides she needs looking after. She is very 
 inexperienced, and as her aunt, you are the proper person to 
 take charge of her." 
 
 " This is really a proposition that I could not have expected. 
 I do not know how to thank you." 
 
 " There is no occasion for thanks I am the obliged party, 
 and if you say you will come, Kate, there is an end of it. Make 
 your arrangements, aud come as quick as you can." 
 
 The result of this conversation was, that Mrs. Kate Gran- 
 ville was installed as mistress in State street. Isabel liked 
 her aunt, and was delighted at her taking charge. To Mrs 
 Kate Granville it was the most acceptable thing that could have 
 occurred. The scandal afloat in reference to her, and the 
 separation between Tom and herself would be silenced, for 
 certainly the world would say there could be no blame attached 
 to Mrs. Tom Granville, if her husband's brother, a large and 
 extensive merchant, should receive her at his house ; not only 
 that, but take her to keep house, and take the charge of hid 
 daughter. 
 
 Mrs. Kate Granville had not resided with her brother-in-law 
 but a few weeks, when her keen eyes discovered that there 
 was some sort of a secret between her niece Isabel and Marion 
 Monck. She was satisfied that notes and letters passed between 
 the two young people. Marion was a regular visitor at the 
 house in State street, and was there a hundred times unsue-
 
 VIGOR. 1 13 
 
 pected, because he was now the confidential clerk of Mr. Gran- 
 ville, and it was necessary that he should see him frequently. 
 Sometimes Mr. Granville would be confined to the house for a 
 few days, by sickness. Then Marion would be there half a 
 dozen times a day. He never came but Isabel contrived to 
 see and speak with him, if it was only for a moment. 
 
 Aunt Kate determined to put an end to this in some manner, 
 for she was not certain her brother would like the idea of an 
 attachment between Marion and Isabel. The former was but 
 a clerk, and although Mr. Granville seemed to be very fond of 
 him, yet she knew that being fond of a youth as a clerk, and 
 approving of him for a son-in-law, was entirely a different mat- 
 ter. She took Isabel to task the first opportunity, and taxed 
 her with being in love or engaged to Marion Monk. The fair 
 girl could only reply to the charge on the instant with a flood 
 of tears. 
 
 " Don't deny it, Bella dear. There is no very great crime, 
 and you can tell Aunty all about it how it happened." 
 
 Thus coaxed, Isabel very soon took the advice, and made 
 Aunt Kate her confidant. At first the sister-in-law concluded 
 that it was her duty to inform her brother of circumstances 
 that so nearly concerned his domestic happiness ; but when 
 she listened to Bella's pleadings, her anxieties, and her confi- 
 dent assurances that if Aunt did tell Papa, that he would turn 
 her out of doors, as he had done her brother Walter, and not 
 only that, but that he would discharge poor Marion from his 
 employ, and probably ruin him and his prospects for life, and 
 all " for no good,'' Aunt Kate hesitated. Then Isabel told 
 her that Marion was not to blame, and that it was her persua- 
 sion that had made him conceal his attachment from her father. 
 Finally Aunt Kate was persuaded to keep silence so far as Mr. 
 Granville was concerned, provided Isabel would agree to sub- 
 mit the correspondence between her lover and herself to Aunt 
 Kate's inspection, and that no further letters should be sent or 
 received unless she inspected them. Again, it was understood 
 that Marion should be informed that Kate knew all about it, 
 and that she would converse freely with him upon the subject. 
 Isabel affectionately kissed her Aunt after all these prelimina- 
 ries had been settled upon, and she felt her mind much re- 
 lieved. She dreaded the anger of her father. With Aunt 
 Kate as her confidential adviser, there was somebody to share 
 with her the furious anger of her father, whenever he was in- 
 formed of the attachment, should it be displeasing to him, or 
 should he have other matrimonial views for her.
 
 144 VIGOR. 
 
 Mrs. Tom Granville, after Isabel left the parlor in which 
 this memorable explanation had occurred, did not feel at ease 
 in her mind. " I have consented to do wrong, but I have pro- 
 mised Isabel not to interfere, and I will not. If it comes to 
 Pitt Granville's ears, as Isabel says, the house would come 
 trembling down, and there would be a general smash up. Pitt 
 has a fearful temper when he gets a going. There is poor 
 Walter too driven off to sea never been heard from, and his 
 father never allows his name to be mentioned, and all because 
 he chose to fall in love with my sister Madison, and refused to 
 marry that proud, impudent hussy Mag Benson. No Isabel 
 may run off with this Marion Monck L certainly will not in- 
 terfere. But one thing I will do, without delay yes, this 
 very morning. This Marion has a warm friend in widow Nord- 
 heim. Of course she is aware of his attachment to Isabel, and 
 she has great influence with Granville. I will go and consult 
 her about the matter, and take her advice." She rang the bell. 
 The servant answered it. 
 
 " Go tell Thomas the coachman that I wish to go out in about 
 an hour." 
 
 Aunt Kate went up to Isabella's room, and informed her that 
 she was obliged to go out for a few hours, but would be home 
 by dinner-time. Isabel was surprised, but said nothing. She 
 little dreamed of the object that Aunt Kate had in view. If 
 she had done so, Aunt Kate would not have been permitted to 
 go on such an errand ; for with a keen instinct Isabel had 
 partly discovered a secret that Mrs. Nordheim supposed was 
 safe in her own bosom ; and on one occasion the young Miss 
 had almost allowed jealousy to get the better of her, and she 
 came very ne;ir charging Marion with loving Mrs. Nordheim 
 better than he did herself. 
 
 Mrs. Granville found Mrs. Nordheim at home. She was 
 dressed in deep mourning, and received Mrs. Tom Granville 
 with unusual courtesy. She felt a deep sympathy for her. 
 Both had lost husbands one by death, the other by the fasci- 
 nations of a beautiful but bad woman ; for Mrs. Nordheim was 
 not aware that there were two sides to the story of Tom's sepa- 
 ration from his wife. She had heard that Tom had left his 
 wife to go and live with Miss Norris. 
 
 " I am very happy to see you, Mrs. Granville, very indeed ; 
 and I cannot tell you how glad I was to hear that you had 
 found a refuge rrom your domestic difficulties in the house of 
 the elder Mr. Granville. It is an arrangement that must bo 
 very gratifying to all parties, for my beautiful friend Isabel is
 
 VIGOR. 1 15 
 
 too young and inexperienced to have charge of so extensive an 
 establishment as Mr. Granville's, and you can relieve her of 
 all care, and be a mother to her. Poor girl ! She needs a 
 mother, for I think Mr. Cranville has an extremely bad tem- 
 per, although he can be so pleased and smile so amiably in his 
 out-door intercourse." 
 
 Mrs. Nordheim spoke with animation, and from the heart. 
 
 " I really believe, Mrs. Nordheim, that you do feel what you 
 express ; and you have never joined in the lying scandal about 
 me, although ray name was connected with your husband's. He 
 was a good friend, and assisted me. What his ultimate mo- 
 tives may have been, he can only settle with his God. I could 
 not do less than be grateful for his kindness, which was be- 
 stowed upon many occasions when I assure you I needed kind- 
 ness. But don't let us talk, Mrs. Nordheim, of what gives me 
 the horrors. I came up this morning for an express purpose." 
 
 " Indeed ! Can I guess that purpose ?" 
 
 " I presume you are aware of the relations that exist between 
 Marion Monck and my niece, Isabel Granville ?" 
 
 Mrs. Nordheim sat rocking herself to and fro ic a well- 
 cushioned chair, and when she caught the last words, the chair 
 ceased its motion, and the occupant placed her band for a mo- 
 ment upon her heart, as if to discover that it beat. Her 
 breath caught for a moment, and her face was as pale as death. 
 It was but for a moment that she hesitated, and then she asked 
 
 " The relation between Marion and Isabella ?" 
 
 " Yes. I suppose Marion has told you that he has long been 
 attached to Isabel, that it is reciprocated on her part, and that 
 they are engaged to be married. They are both fearful that 
 their views may conflict with those of my stern brother, and 
 they arc both keeping the arrangement very quiet. I coaxed 
 it out of Isabel this morning, and knowing how warmly you are 
 attached to Marion, I presumed of course that he had at least 
 informed you of it. Is it possible that he has not done so ?" 
 
 Mrs. Nordheim broke out into a laugh that actually sur- 
 prised Mrs. Grauville. 
 
 " Told me me ! No, he did not tell me. Why, it is the 
 most comical thing I have heard of for a long time ! Marion 
 in love, and engaged to be married to that little girl, Isabel 
 Granville ! ha, ha, ha ! It is a good joke, is it not ?" 
 
 Mrs Tom Granville could not, or did not see the joke ; and 
 she replied that her niece was not so very little ; on the con- 
 trary that she was a fall grown young lady. 
 
 " 0, my dear Mrs. Granville, I meant no harm. To tell you
 
 14<] FIGOR. 
 
 the truth, your information has somewhat surprised me. Ma- 
 rion is not yet twenty years old, and it is rather young to think 
 of getting married." 
 
 " It is indeed. But what can be done? I thought I would 
 come up and have an explanation with you." 
 
 " You are very kind indeed, but I must decline having any 
 thing to do with the matter. Marion has not told. me of it, and 
 therefore I shall say nothing. Your conversation shall go no 
 further. I will keep it in my own breast;" and she placed 
 her hand there for a moment, as if to press the secret in, so 
 that it would be safe. 
 
 These two ladies continued in conversation for over an hour 
 upon almost every topic of the day. Mrs. Nordheim took the 
 lead, and Mrs. Tom Granville wondered at such a flow of good 
 spirits. At last the visitor left. No sooner had the door 
 closed, than Mrs. Nordheim fell at full length upon the floor, 
 and rolled in agony. 
 
 " 0, my God, preserve my reason ! I that have so long 
 loved him in secret ! I that now all obstacles to my dreams 
 for years is removed! He Marion our Marion my Ma- 
 rion to go and fall in love with that chit, simpleton, foolish, 
 nonsensical girl ! But I will not give way ! No, no, no! Cour- 
 age, courage ! It is better as it is. He nor no living Soul 
 shall know what I have suffered ! Bat it is over now, and if 
 Marion were to come home I could receive him as cahnly as if 
 he was my brother." 
 
 She rose and resumed her seat. The tears silently poured 
 down her cheeks, but after a few moments she descended to 
 the basement and gave orders to the servants as calmly as if 
 her heart had never known aught but the most peaceful pulsa- 
 tions. Such is life !
 
 VIGOR. 
 
 147 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 The Daily Life of a New York Merchant Haunts and Ideas of one rf the 
 Cl'iss Mr. (jranvtlle Coloi,el Benson, the British M-rch<int Merchants' 
 Ideas of child r n A plun cunr.octc.d tomarry Isah //a Grativ lit to Midille- 
 ton Benson oif th.fir par, nis Ifab-tla at (hi piano Arrival of th<: ship 
 Doruth a front Bo. aria A profitable voyage Minion Alonck informs Mr. 
 Gram-Hit th:t he his Ift th~ housr of Mrs. NordkeimThe City HotJ 
 Captain Watson Tlit Shades, in Thames street A pleasant night there. 
 
 THE daily life of a merchant in Xew York is one round of 
 routine. He rises in the morning, gets a hasty breakfast, 
 and before nine o'clock reaches his place of business. If he is 
 a shipping merchant he reads the list of' arrivals of that day, 
 and the clearances of vesssls the day previous. If he is any 
 other sort of merchant, he reads that portion of the journal 
 that affects his peculiar interest. Half an hour with the 
 newspaper in his hand, and then he puts it one side and goes 
 at his /work. The letters come from the pest-office these he 
 reads, and then transfers them to his bookkeeper to be read 
 and noted. An hour later he goes out into the street and 
 attends to his out-door business, and perhaps stops at a 
 refectory, an oyster cellar, or ])elmonico's, and gets a stiff 
 glass of brandy and a bite of something to eat, and then is back 
 to his counting-house or store. Business, business, business. 
 Business in his head, business in his actions, business in his 
 thoughts, business at heart. He is nothing more than a body 
 made up of business. He goes home to dine at five o'clock, 
 and reaches his commercial palace filled with thoughts of busi- 
 ness. He has left a loved wife been absent from her nine 
 hours. He has perfect confidence in her, and when he comes 
 home, he tells her how successful he has been in business. 
 He eats a hurried dinner, but delays longer to drink his wine. 
 He returns to his business again after dinner, or if not he 
 takes his hat and goes down to some place of amusement, or 
 to see some friend. At or before eleven o'clock he is found 
 at home, and after he gets his tod goes to bed. The next and 
 ten thousand succeeding days, perhaps as long as he lives, is 
 but a repetition of the one day that we have given as a sample.
 
 118 VIGOR. 
 
 He may acquire money, but even that is not all he desires. 
 He is never as happy as when he is admired as the most 
 extensive merchant of his class. He works for that ; he battles 
 for it night and day. As a politician he is a nobody. Empires 
 may be overthrown, kingdoms conquered, a republic cor- 
 rupted it is nothing to the merchant it has no connection 
 with his business. He cares not who rules the city, the state, 
 or the nation. He does not vote it would take too much time, 
 and he would be obliged to indirectly mix with people that 
 he considers beneath him. Sunday is not a working day. Ho 
 goes to church because it makes a man more respectable, and 
 helps pass away the time. His religion is a part of his regular 
 business. In early life he has married, has a family. They 
 become a part of his business. He leaves his wife, perhaps a 
 young charming woman to get along- the best way she can 
 with nothing to do. Most women find something to do, and 
 they have it all their own way, for from morning until night, 
 day in and day out, the wife of a New Yock merchant can tell 
 at any time where her husband is. But could the veil be 
 removed from the careless husband's eyes, he who is a worse 
 slave than the Jane or Tom of the South .could he imagine 
 for one moment in what manner his wife or the daughters, or 
 the sons occupy their time, his business would lose its charm. 
 
 An eminent statesman once remarked that it was a remarka- 
 ble fact that there should be a virtuous rich merchant's wife 
 in New York, and on being asked why he thought this, he 
 answered, 
 
 " Because, of all the male inhabitants of God's earth, the 
 merchant is the only known class that abandon their wives 
 and daughters without remorse or fear to be seduced, cor- 
 rupted and betrayed by the idle and the vile of the othes 
 sex." 
 
 It was once a good custom in New York for merchants to 
 have their dwellings in the same buildings with their stores. A 
 return to that habit would save from vice thouands of wives. 
 It is a good custom. The merchant can then look after his 
 business and his honor at the same time. 
 
 Mr. Granville was just exactly the business man we have de- 
 scribed. He ate his meals regularly. He went to church on 
 Sunday. He had a good stock of wines in his cellar, and 
 occasionally gave a dinner. It was a part of his business. 
 Most of those he invited were business men. If he invited 
 others who had genius, it was to make the dinner go off better by 
 having a few intellectual persons mixed in the business eatera.
 
 VIGOR. 149 
 
 He had lost all hopes of seeing his son Walter again that is 
 to say, as he wished to see him. He did not regard him as a 
 son but as a sailor, and as his confidence was lost by what 
 the senior Granville called a gross act of filial disobedience, 
 he determined that his remaining child should be the means 
 of carrying out his design. On one occasion Colonel Benson 
 called in State street. Mr. Granville was alone. Aunt Kate 
 and Isabel had gone out to spend the evening at Mr. Grasper's. 
 Between the Colonel and Mr. Granville, Walter's name had 
 been a forbidden subject by quiet consent. This evening Mr. 
 Granville alluded to him in the following manner : " Colonel, 
 are you aware that I have never been so crossed in any matter, 
 so completely disappointed, as at the overthrow of my plans, 
 or rather of onr mutual plans, in reference to our children, 
 Walter and Margaret?" 
 
 " Children are inexperienced and great fools. Granville. 
 I confess that I was annoyed for a short time, for Walter was a 
 great favorite of mine. I saw no reason why the match should 
 not have been a happy one. We could have started the young 
 couple fairly in life, and Qiir own minds would have been at 
 rest. I'll tell you, Mr. Granville, that one of the greatest 
 anxieties in a person's mind, if he has sons or daughters, is 
 that they will make an unfortunate match, especially so if you 
 have money. There are so many prowlers about in a city like 
 this chaps that have got nothing, but dress well and can keep 
 up appearances, and get into society. These fellows keep parents 
 constantly on the look-out. I am never easy in my mind. 
 There is my son Middleton he is rising rapidly as a business 
 young man. I am delighted with his conduct. He is not fool- 
 ing about the town at nights, and has formed no bad ac- 
 quaintances. He will be taken into the firm before he is much 
 older, and I shall give him the capital that I have invested in that 
 house, and withdraw my own name altogether. Now would it 
 not be enough to make a man curse his father, if that favorite 
 son should fall in love with some pretty shop-girl or some 
 angelic book-folder ? Yet I should not be surprised at it. 
 It would only be in keeping with the proceedings of sous 
 generally who have wealthy parents." 
 
 " I hope Middleton will never take any step, my dear Colonel, 
 that would be so utterly repugnant to you views for his future. 
 I have to keep a careful watch upon my daughter Isabella, but 
 thank God, sue is heart whole, anfl will never disobey or cross 
 my wishes ; but as double security, I have got Tom's wife here, 
 and she is a perfect woman of the world, and if there is any
 
 100 VIGOR. 
 
 young man comes to my house to make love to ray daughter, 
 it will not be long before I should be fully informed of it. If 
 your views, Colonel, are not changed, as we have been disap- 
 pointed in one match between my son and your daughter, 
 suppose we try again, with your son and my daughter." 
 
 " With all my heart, Granviile ; but we must manage somewhat 
 differently. I shall take a warning from your son. I don't like to 
 come directly in contact with mine, or he too 'might go off 
 a three years' voyage. Consider it a bargain, between us. I 
 will do for my son what you proposed to do for yours, and you 
 shall do the same for your daughter that I proposed to do for 
 mine. Now, if you agree to this, let us go to work and bring 
 about the match as originating with the two young people 
 themselves, and not witb us. Come often to my house and 
 bring your daughter with you. I will make it a point to bring 
 Middleton with me when I come here. Miss Isa must display 
 her fascinations to the best advantage and when we find there 
 is a liking, then we can carry out our views ; but don't let us 
 try to do in two months what may take two years and we shall 
 see if we don't have more success in this marriage plot, than 
 in the other one, which resulted, I am sorry to say, in losing 
 your son, at least temporarily." 
 
 " I agree with you, perfectly, Colonel. I already perceive 
 that your plan is a more feasible one than mine." 
 
 The return of Mrs. Tom Granville and Isabella interrupted 
 the conversation of these two worthies, who were a fair sample 
 of nine in ten of the parents of New York, who have marriageable 
 children. Business. Position. Money. These are regarded 
 as the materials for a suitable match. Honesty, talent, health, 
 on the one part beauty, virtue, amiability, intelligence, on 
 the other, are not counted in the game. If they were, "there 
 would be few matches made between rich men's sons and 
 daughters. 
 
 Colonel Benson was a man who had moved much in society, 
 and could be very fascinating when he chose to be so. When 
 Isabella had removed her bonnet and shawl, he gazed at her 
 for some time in silence. He was more struck than ever with 
 her extreme loveliness. He drew his chair near her, and 
 engaged her in a very animated conversation for some time. 
 He was delighted with intelligent conversation. Then he 
 asked her to play and sing some of his old favorite English 
 songs, and without a momeflt's hesitation, or any hypocritical 
 arts, which young ladies frequently use to enhance the value 
 of this performance, she arose and went to the piano, which
 
 VIGOR. 1-31 
 
 was an upright English piano, imported expressly from Eng- 
 land for his child'.-* use, by Mr. Granville. Isabella played all 
 the English airs that she had learned to play to please her 
 father. When she had finished, the colonel looked at Mr. 
 Granville. There was an expression in his eyes which the 
 father understood. He saw that the colonel was delighted with 
 the prospect of such a wife for his son, and he could not 
 control his feelings, but turned to Isabella and said : 
 
 " My dear Isabella, I am very glad I did not bring my son 
 Middle ton with me, for had he been in my place this evening, 
 you would have set him crazy. But I will venture him the 
 next time I come. 
 
 Isabella shuddered she hardly knew why, but at that 
 moment the bell rang, and shortly after, although it was late, 
 Marion Monck entered the parlor. He bowed politely to all 
 in the room, and then approached Mr. Grauville with some 
 letters. 
 
 " The ship Dorothea, Captain Watson, is below, sir. She is 
 just in from Batavia with a cargo of sugar, and is consigned 
 to the late firm. Captain Watson came to the oflace only a 
 few moments ago. I took him up to the City Ho-el. He will 
 go down to the ship early in the morning, and wishes some 
 directions ; but I will wait until you have read your letters." 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Granville was occupied in reading his let- 
 ters, and as he read he commented upon them. 
 
 " The Dorothea will make a glorious voyage. Her sugar 
 will bring eleven cents a pound from the ship, and they only 
 cost five Spanish dollars the pecul." 
 
 % " How much is a pecul, Mr. Granville ?" asked Col. Ben- 
 son. 
 
 " One hundred and thirty-three and one-third English 
 pounds. The ship will clear twenty-five thousand dollars in 
 her cargo, and pay a good round freight to her owner ;" re- 
 plied Mr. Granville. 
 
 " Is the cargo owned by you ?" asked Colonel Benson. 
 
 " It is owned one half by my late firm, and the other half 
 belongs to John McGreeu of Philadelphia, who also owns the 
 ship. I am his agent here," replied Mr. Granville. 
 
 Some general conversation occurred, and then Colonel Ben- 
 son remarked : 
 
 " Well, Granville, I see you have something to do to-night, 
 and I will take my departure." 
 
 " You need not be in a hurry, although I shall call on Cap-
 
 2 VIGOR. 
 
 tain Watson as soon as I have finished my letters," said Mr. 
 Granville. 
 
 Colonel Benson took leave of the two ladies, and soon after 
 they bade Mr. Granville and Marion a pleasant good-night, 
 and retired to their rooms. Mr. Granville and his clerk were 
 left alone. 
 
 " A capital voyage the Dorothea will make, eh ? How does 
 Captain Watson look ? I will go up and see the old sea dog 
 presently. You must send a note to Havemeyers and the 
 other sugar refiners early in the morning, and see if we can't 
 sell this cargo of sugar from the dock. It will save us a great 
 deal of expense. You were late at the office to-night. Lucky, 
 too, or you would have missed Captain Watson. How is Mrs. 
 Nordheim ?" demanded Mr. Granville. 
 
 " Quite well. I am going to leave there." 
 
 " Leave there ! Why, I thought it was almost a permanent 
 home ? What is out ? Have you and her quarrelled ?" de- 
 manded Mr. Granville. 
 
 " Not that I am aware of. She told me this afternoon that 
 she should probably give up the house soon, and although she 
 did not wish to incommode me, yet the sooner I procured a 
 home somewhere else, the better." 
 
 " Short and sweet. What are you going to do ?" asked Mr. 
 Granville. 
 
 " I have not made np my mind yet. This sudden notice 
 has taken me all aback. I must try and get a boarding-house 
 somewhere nearer the office," said Marion. 
 
 "You will do nothing of the kind. To-morrow do you come 
 here with your trunk. I will have a room fixed up for you, 
 and you will be perfectly at home. It will be very convenient 
 for me. I shall save for you and myself a large amount of 
 boot and shoe leather," said Mr. G. 
 
 " Really, you are very kind, but shall I not put you to in- 
 convenience ?" enquired Marion. 
 
 " What have you got to do with that? You are well ac- 
 quainted with my daughter, and with Mrs. Tom Granville. 
 Coming here will not be like going among strangers. But 
 come, let us go up and see Captain Tommy Watson," said Mr. 
 Granville. 
 
 The merchant and his clerk went up to the City Hotel. 
 Mr. Willard smilingly told them that Captain Watson had 
 left word that he had gone round to the Shades in Thames street, 
 directly in the rear of the hotel-. To " the Shades" they went, and 
 there tbry found the Captain with his mug of ale on the little
 
 VIGOR. 153 
 
 table before him, and enjoying a cigar M'lth great gusto. Mr. 
 Granville and Marion took seats at the same table, and soon 
 had their " mugs " before them. The main room was crowded 
 with small tables, and every table had four to six persons 
 about it. In the center of the room was a large round table 
 which accommodated twenty persons. These were drinking, 
 singing songs, telling stories, and enjoying themselves without 
 limit. 
 
 " I did not know that there was such a place as this in New 
 York," remarked Marion. 
 
 " I did," said Captain Tommy Watson. " It is the only 
 place where you can get a good glass of beer, and a ' Welsh 
 rabbit.' I always come here when I am in New York. Be- 
 sides the good drinks and eatables, there is always lots of fun 
 going on here, and every hour the character of the guesls 
 change.. In the morning you have one class that come here to 
 get their breakfast. Tea or coffee and a mutton-chop, or a 
 deliciously done beef steak. Towards eleven o'clock, a class 
 come here to get a mug of beer, some bread and cheese or u 
 cold cut. From twelve to three, merchants some of the best 
 in town, come to get a regular feed a downright dinner. 
 Then in the evening, all the leading literary men and wits 
 come here, and in addition, a lot of chaps who have a little 
 spare change, come anil spend it, and hear the geniuses sing 
 and talk ;" said Captain Watson 
 
 Captain -Watson's description of the Shades was good a 
 quarter of a century ago. But now, although the Shades is 
 still in existence, and kept in the same place, yet its custom 
 has sadly fallen off, and their character changed. Now and 
 then a stray English actor lodges and boards there, and some- 
 times one of the ancient guests drop in to see how his old 
 haunt looks. But the majority of the customers have gone up 
 town, or to their graves, and the Shades is desolate. 
 
 The Captain and his consignee, Mr. Granville and Marion, 
 remained until long after midnight listing to their songs, while 
 partaking of a nice little bird supper, garnished with cham- 
 pagne, which Mr. Granville had ordered. The Captain con- 
 tributed his quota of enjoyment by telling anecdotes of his 
 recent voyage to and from Java. 
 
 When they parted for the night, it was with the understand- 
 ing that the Captain would come up with the good ship Doro- 
 thea, and lay her along side the Rector street, as early in the 
 morning as was practicable. 
 
 7*
 
 154 VIGOR. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 Count Falsechinski Makrs a Leva upon Mrs Wood, tiff The Count cal/x in 
 Bond street A I'alace (fnfutpfttd of Evil -Its Gorqeousnfss The 
 Count gets a Check for a Thousand Down and Two Thousand Dollars a 
 Ytarfor Keep ny a Stcret Accompanies the Lndy to a Fashionable. P,irty 
 What the Count Saw at " The. Parki-m '' Mr. O Doemall and .//. 
 Parki-r A Scene of Ef.ntemc.nt luttrviiw betwte.n O wit and Mrs. Wuod- 
 ruffTen Thousand Dollars (ffirid for a Hush :nd for a Yo'ing Ijidy 
 of We-tlth and Be(ivty--The Litllt- B'lliy A UorrM- Outrog? in Uigh 
 Life The Count Falsf,< hii.ski L vi s I 1 ' ve Tho:s<tnd Dollars More His 
 Opinion of Morality i.nd Virtue in High l' laces. 
 
 WHEN Miss Norris communicated to the Count Falsechinski 
 the secret of Mrs. Woodruff, that noble gentleman forthwith, 
 sent a note to the Bond street lady, lie received a reply the 
 same day, requesting him to call so soon as he could make it 
 convenient. It was not long before the Count made his appear- 
 ance on the premises. He stood upon the steps and then rung 
 the bell, but noticing that the outer dor was partially opened, 
 he passed in, and found himself in a short hall. At the end was 
 a second mahogany door, which was fast, and another bell- 
 handle could be seen at the side door. 
 
 There was every sign of the residence of some wealthy per- 
 son, at the same time, it was evident that the arrangement of 
 two doors was very convenient for persons who did not wish to 
 be seen entering the house, as they would not be kept a mo- 
 ment on the outside of the street door. Ladies or gentlemen 
 could run up the marble steps, push open the door, enter, and 
 push the door to again. There they were safe from observa- 
 tion, and could leisurely ring the second bell. This the Count 
 did. A colored girl soon after made her appearance. 
 
 " I wish to see madam." 
 
 " Your name, sir ?" 
 
 41 The Count Falsechinski." 
 
 The inner door was carefully closed by the girl, who went to 
 seek her mistress. She returned, opened the door sufficient to 
 allow^the Count to enter, then carefully closed and locked it, 
 and led the way to the rear parlor. 
 
 " Take a seat, Mr. Count. Mksus will be down directly."
 
 VIGOR. X 
 
 The door was partially open which connected with the next 
 parlor. The Count entered it, and found that there was still a 
 front parlor. Three parlors, magnificently furnished, occupied 
 the floor. The walls were covered with paintings, and the fur- 
 niture was of the most costly description. The rear par Un- 
 opened upon a balcony, which was so c.jvered with creeping 
 vines as almost to exclude the light, and prevented any one 
 from looking into the yard. Between the two rear windows 
 stood a bronze stand with a marble top. Upon it was a mar- 
 ble bust of Daniel Webster. One side of the room, between 
 each recess of the fire-places, were large mahogany book-case;*, 
 with looking-glass doors. The Count tried to open some of 
 them, but found all carefully locked. She must have a largo 
 library, thought the Count, if these splendid cases are filled 
 with books. On the opposite side of the room was a small ta- 
 ble, covered with a fine white cloth. Upon it, was a large 
 quarto, bound with velvet. The Count opened the book It 
 was the Bible. " Queer female this," muttered the Count, and 
 tired with looking about the r,om, he partly reclined upon one 
 of the superb sofas that lined the room. ^Presently the lady of 
 the house entered, and walking rapidly across the room, took 
 the Count's hand, and bade him not rise. She seated herself 
 by his side. The lady, who was no other than Mrs. Woodruff, 
 was dressed in deep mourning, and also wore a widow's cap. 
 
 " Count, I received your note, and I presume you received 
 mine, or you would not be here." 
 
 The Count bowed politely, and said he had received the 
 note. 
 
 " Yours, Count, made me aware that you possessed a secret 
 of mine, and that it was in your power to do me injury or " 
 continued Mrs. Woodruff. 
 
 " Good, as you may decide," interrupted the Count. 
 
 " I will be very frank with you, Count. If you are not dis- 
 posed to injure me, you can be of essential service to me, and 
 at the same time benefit yourself most materially ; but it is 
 necessary that we should perfectly understand each other," 
 remarked Mrs. Woodruff. 
 
 The Count nodded his head in approbation. 
 
 " What, Count, do you require ? :> she asked 
 
 " Money, and I will earn it," replied the Count. 
 
 " Do you mean to have me infer that if I pay you a certain 
 sum of money, that you will not only keep my secret, but that 
 you will serve me in any way that I shall point out ?" asked 
 Mrs. Woodruff.
 
 J56 VIGOR. 
 
 " T do," replied the Count. 
 
 " Will you take a solemn oath upon that Bible yonder that 
 you will never, directly or indirectly, betray me or my inter- 
 ests ?" replied the hostess. 
 
 " I will." 
 
 The lady went and got the Bible, and as she resumed her 
 seat, placed it upon her knees, and again addressed the Count. 
 
 " What money will you require ?" 
 
 " I wish the sum of one thousand dollars in cash. I then 
 wish you to pay me five hundred dollars every three months, 
 so long as I serve you," said the cool Count. 
 
 " Swear upon this book what I require, and I will agree to 
 your proposition." The Count took the oath. 
 
 " Excuse me a moment." The lady left the room, but was 
 not absent over five minutes, when she again took a seat by the 
 Count, and placed in his hands two bank notes of five hu.ndred 
 dollars each. " Three months hence, Count, you will receive 
 another note of five hundred, and so on for the year at least, or 
 as long as our bargain holds good. Count, will you tell me by 
 what means you discovered the character of my establishment ? 
 I do not ask you save in this regard. Will the source of your 
 information be used again to others ?" asked the lady. 
 
 " I cannot give you the name of the person who informed me 
 as to your real pursuits, but I can and do guarantee that it 
 shall not be repeated by that party to your injury," replied the 
 Count. * 
 
 " I am satisfied ; and no\Met us understand each other. You 
 move, Count, in a certain circle. You will make many valua- 
 ble acquaintances. Such as you deem will be of value for me 
 to make, I wish you to be the means of bringing us together. I 
 want none but the highest those who are wealthy^-or hold 
 positions of political power, or foreigners who are titled, or 
 leading men in the professions. Do you understand me ?" 
 asked Mrs. Woodruff. 
 
 " Perfectly ; and I will carry out your views in that regard. 
 What else ?" asked the Count. 
 
 " I wish you to accompany me to church, to places of public 
 amusement, and to the select, fashionable parties among the 
 higher classes of society," was the reply 
 
 " What ? Do I understand you to say that you visit in the 
 highest circles ? ' asked the astonished Count. 
 
 " Did you not meet me at Mrs. Nordheim's 1" she asked. 
 
 " Oh, ah, lady, yes ; that was because you were a neighbor, 
 I suppose ; but there are higher classes," said the Count.
 
 . .. VIGOR. 157 
 
 ' ; Very well ; we sliall see. Read this note," replied Mrs. 
 Woodruff, and she handed him a note. 
 
 The Count read an invitation addressed to himself from Mr. 
 and Mrs; Parker, inviting him to a party at their house that 
 night. 
 
 " I see, my dear Count, that you are somewhat astonished, 
 but I have a note of invitation, and had no difficulty, I assure 
 you, in getting one fur you. Nothing will give me more 
 pleasure than to accompany you there," smilingly observed 
 Mrs. Woodruff. 
 
 " No. Not accompany me, but meet me there," she con- 
 tinued, correcting herself. 
 
 The Count soon after took his leave, but when the night 
 came, he was at the party, and was one of the favored ones. 
 Mrs. Woodruff was, as usual, quiet and retired, but made many 
 acquaintances, particularly among the young married ladies. 
 Mrs. Parker was the life and soul of her party, but the Count 
 could not help noticing that one of her guests seemed to be an 
 object of the deepest interest to the hostess. It was no other 
 than Mr. John O'DoemalL the wine merchant. He was dressed 
 superbly, and certainly far outshone the Count, who did not at- 
 tempt to rival him. 
 
 " What an impudent scoundrel that O'Doemall is !" said the 
 Count, to Mrs. Woodruff, as the carriage which contained them 
 drove off from the stately residence of the Parkers. "I had 
 half a mind to give Mrs. Parker a warning." 
 
 " It is well you did not, Count. Mrs. Parker is one of my 
 oldest friends and acquaintances." 
 
 The Count gave a prolonged " Whew " " And Mr. O'Do- 
 emall also ?" he'asked. 
 
 " Yes ; and some day I may tell you more," she replied. 
 
 The Count became a friend of Mrs. Woodruff, attended her 
 at church, theatres, and private parties, and his salary was 
 regularly paid, and as fast as he received it he deposited it 
 with his Wall street bankers, adding constantly to the amount 
 to his credit already in Prime, Ward & King's hands. So 
 weeks and months passed on, no one suspecting or dreaming 
 that Mrs. Woodruff was not the wealthy, pious lady that she 
 was supposed to be. The rector of . the fashionable church a,t 
 which she worshipped paid her a formal visit at least once a 
 month, and no other female member of his congregation con- 
 ducted herself so unexceptionably as Mrs. Woodruff. No other 
 made the worthy rector so many presents, and as she sent them 
 through the hands of the sexton of that fashionable church, no
 
 VIGOR. 
 
 one who held a seat in that church received a bow as she 
 passed into the church, or was shown to her pew with a greater 
 respect. 
 
 The Count had drawn his salary from Mrs. Woodruff almost 
 a year, when one afternoon, as he was about leaving the office 
 to go to Delmonico's to get his dinner, a note was placed iu 
 his hands by the coachman of Mrs. Woodruff. 
 
 " Carriage around the corner. Missis say you come right 
 up," observed the coachman. 
 
 The Count read the note, and then hastily followed the colored 
 coachman and took his seat in the carriage. It was driven 
 rapidly to Bond street. He entered the house, and found Mrs. 
 Woodruff in her private parlor, in a state of great excitement. 
 
 " Ah, Count, 1 a"hi so glad you are come ! I have had such 
 a scene !" she exclaimed, as he entered. 
 
 " Be calm, Mrs. Woodruff; seat yourself, and tell me all 
 about it. As I have had no dinner, will you order me some- 
 thing, and a bottle of champagne," remarked the Count. 
 
 The order was given, and Mrs. Woodruff resumed a seat 
 
 " Who was the scene with, my lady ?" asked the Count. 
 
 " 0, with those Parkers If it were not for me, their wealth 
 could not save them," replied ihe indignant Woodruff 
 
 " What is out now ? Tell me all about it, and then if you 
 want advice, I will give it," said the Count. 
 
 " Count, could you procure a husband for a yor.ng lady of 
 high fnmily, one of the first respectability, if ten thousand dol- 
 lars were placed in her husband's hands the moment she was 
 married ?" demanded Mrs. Woodruff. 
 
 " I dare say I could do so in fact I know I could Ten 
 thousand dollars ? Is the lady pretty ? I know fifty young 
 fellows that would marry ten thousand dollars and take the 
 Witch of Endor if she were alive, as the wife additional," re- 
 plied the Count. 
 
 " Do not joke I am perfectly serious ; and I will tell you 
 the young lady is Miss Julia Parker, the niece of Mr. Parker, 1 ' 
 observed Madame Woodruff. 
 
 " The devil she is ! Why, my lady, what is out now ? A 
 beautiful young and virtuous girl like Julia Parker need not 
 go begging for a husband. . She can take her pick in the mar- 
 ket," said the astonished Count. 
 
 " Yes, that is all very well ; but she must be married as a 
 widow with her child. She won't give up her child," said the 
 lady. 
 
 " Widow child Miss Parker ! Why, what the old Nick
 
 VIGOR. 159 
 
 
 
 is out now ! Tell me all, or don't ask my aid. Where is Miss 
 Parker ?" c*ntinued the Count. 
 
 " Up stairs, and her aunt has just left. But I made her pull 
 in her horns. I dared her to threaten me. The negro woman 
 tiiok away the child this morning, and the mother frets about 
 it ; but the old she devil Parker insists that she shall go to a 
 party on next Monday night, as though nothing had happened," 
 said Mrs. Woodruff. 
 
 " How long has Miss Parker been in this house ?" asked the 
 Count. 
 
 " About three weeks. She had a little baby about a week 
 ago,' ' replied Mrs. Woodruff. 
 
 " Miss Julia Parker leetle baby !" repeated the Count, 
 whose eyes actually stuck out with amazc'inent. 
 
 " No, indeed ; Madame Parker needn't put on any of her 
 airs with me. She is a communicant at the same church that 
 don't matter. She has done it all. That poor girl was as iu- 
 nocent as a babe unborn, until the outrage was committed upon 
 her, and why was it done ? Who did it ? what for 1 0, Count, 
 I could tell you such a story as would make your hair curl, 
 without putting curling tongs anywhere near it," said Mrs. 
 Woodruff in a very excifced manner. 
 
 " Now, my lady, you kve said too much, or not quite enough. 
 I want to know more," fiercely observed the Count. 
 
 " You shall know all ; and then advise me what to do. That 
 old wretch shan't make a cat's-paw of me- not she. You know 
 that O'Doemall of course you do. Mrs. Parker chooses to fall 
 in love with him. He of coutse agreed to it, and they met 
 here, in this house. She wanted a handseme lover he wanted 
 money. Well, he got a few hundreds out of her, and it was 
 more, more. One day, I told her not to come here any more. 
 So they met afterwards at her own house. They got pretty 
 bold and imprudent, and one morning Miss Julia happening to 
 go to her aunt's apartments, she caught the naughty O'Doemall 
 and her worthy aunt breaking Commandment No. Eight. Then 
 there was a scene ! but Mrs. Parker was equal to the emer- 
 gency. She sent a note to me at once, enclosing a hundred 
 dollar bill, and requesting a room ready in an hour. It was 
 ready. Mrs. Parker came, and her niece was with her. The 
 niece knew nothing of my business. She knew me as a vis- 
 itor and a friend. They both took a seat in one of my parlors. 
 Then the aunt complained of being sick, and asked me to let 
 her lie down. The niece went up to the room with her. Then 
 she ordered up a bottle of Madeira. The servant took it op.
 
 160 VIGOR. 
 
 O'Doemall came, and he went up of course. But really I can- 
 not tell the rest, Count it is too horrible," remarked the poor 
 Mrs. Woodruff. 
 
 " You must tell it all go on," said the Count sternly. 
 
 " Be it so. I had other matters to attend to, and my mind 
 was not called to what Mrs. Parker was doing. The three re- 
 mained in that room over two hours. Then the man O'Doe- 
 mall slid out of the house. Then I went up. Julia, j oor child, 
 was acting more like a maniac than anything else. Mrs. Par- 
 ker frowned, scowled, pinched her even. But still the girl 
 sobbed in uch a woeful manner that my suspicions were 
 aroused, but I could say nothing ; and shortly after Mrs. Par- 
 ker took her niece and they left the house, went up the street 
 a short distance and got into their carriage and drove home. 
 Count, in order to keep that little girl from exposing her aunt, 
 that fashionable lady and her lover had forced the poor girl to 
 lose her innocence. Is hot this horrible ? I suspected this at 
 the time, but it was only recently that Miss Julia told me the 
 facts. The outrage was repeated several times, .and she dared 
 not say a word. She became pregnant, and then the aunt in 
 alarm came to me, and to prevent disgrace I agreed to receive 
 and take care of her through her illness, and received a thou- 
 sand dollars for my trouble. She is nearly well, and 31fs. Par- 
 ker, who has made her husband believe that Miss Julia is in the 
 country, has hired a negro woman to take the child to nurse, 
 and wants that her niece shall now return home, and take her 
 place in the family circle. What do you think of it, Count ?" 
 asked Mrs. Woodruff. * * 
 
 "I think that it is in character with a good many other things. 
 This is a funny world. It is all right. Mrs. Parker is one of 
 the leading fashionable ladies in New York, but why dees she 
 wish to marry her niece in such a hurry ? As a widow, too ?" 
 asked the cautious Count. 
 
 " Because her niece has become very fond of the child. She 
 says she will keep the child, and that if she marries, it must 
 be to some one who knows the facts, that is to say, that she 
 is the mother of the child. If any one who is respectable will 
 marry her, the matter can be arranged, Count," observed Mrs. 
 Woodruff. 
 
 " My lady, you are deceived. It is only to pacify the young 
 lady that Mrs. Parker talks that way. I know better she is 
 not sincere. In a month, the shrewd heartless woman will 
 wean the young one from her offspring, and she will be as fash- 
 ionable a belle as ever. No one will be the wiser. So don't
 
 VIGOR. 161 
 
 fret yourself at all. You have done with Mrs. Parker. She 
 will never serve you more. You know too much. Now you 
 must make her pay pay," said the Count. 
 
 " But she has paid me," replied the lady. 
 
 " No, no. She told you she would pay ten thousand dollars 
 to marry, eh ? But it is a lie. Never mind. I will get five 
 thousand half for you, half for me," said the Count. 
 
 " But, my dear Count, she will not stand it. She "- 
 
 " Don't say any more. She will pay me. Write her a note, 
 and say that I am the person who will marry her niece, and that 
 you have told me all. Lea\e the rest to me." 
 
 The Count received the sort of note that he desired, and 
 with it he proceeded to the residence of Mrs. Parker. He saw 
 that lady, told her all that she had done, and gave her one day 
 to raise five thousand dollars, or that he would send her and 
 Mr. O'Doemall to the City Prison. .The next day the fright- 
 ened lady had raised the sum, but only about one half in cash ; 
 the rest was in jewelry at the Count's valuation, although it 
 had cost Mrs. Parker over six thousand dollars. 
 
 The Count made some pledges also to that lady. She con- 
 tinued at the head of fashion, and her niece eventually married 
 well the child having been disposed of in a most mysterious 
 manner. The Count was right in his predictions. Mrs. Parker 
 met Mrs. Woodruff at church, but their acquaintance, socially, 
 was ended. 
 
 The twenty-five hundred dollars the Count paid over to Mrs. 
 Woodruff, and the jewelry he made a special deposit of at his 
 bankers. It is needless to add that the Count's faith in the 
 genuine piety and morality of our most fashionable church 
 goers was not visibly increased. " I will levy a tax on sin," 
 said the honorable Count, " wherever I find it.' 5 He had done 
 so with the Parkers to a very heavy extent. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 The shock to Mrs Nordheim at Mis. Tom Granvillc's communication Finds 
 herself a rich widow and loving Marion Monck Mr. Wilson and the Widow 
 Nordheim His opinion of Monck A long conversation Marion Monck 
 quits the, house of Mrs. JSordheim The latter invites Mr Wilson to rexiiif 
 in Bond street, and to purchase another louse She offers to put him in busi- 
 ness A new world opened to the old bookkeeper. 
 
 THE communication which Mrs. Tom Granville made to Mrs. 
 Nordheim was as unexpected as it was shocking. She was a 
 true-hearted woman. She had married for reasons that have
 
 162 VIGOR. 
 
 been already alluded to ; but she had never loved Mr. Nord 
 Leira. The duties assumed by her were invariably faithfully 
 and fully performed, and she would have continued to perform 
 them until her dying day, but she was young, and of a loving 
 disposition. It was not until after the death of Mr. Nordheim 
 that she became aware of the nature of the feelings in her 
 bosom towards Marion Monck. She thought she loved him as 
 a sister. He had been something for her to love for lung 
 years. She had become bound up in all his aspirations and 
 his hopes, and his wishes. He had become a part of herself. 
 There was very little difference in their ages. She was a few 
 months older than him that was all. When Mr. Nordheim 
 died, the reflections that crossed her mind in reference to her 
 future were of a new and at first a startling character. Then 
 she began to canvass Marion's conduct, and she concluded in 
 her own mind, that he must love her or that it would soon 
 change to love. When Mrs." Grauville informed her that 
 Marion loved and was engaged to her niece, her eyes were 
 opened the veil was lifted from her most secret thoughts. 
 SLe knew herself, her weakness, and she determined to con- 
 quer it. She had no female friend or relative to consult but 
 there was one of the other sex that she respected, and felt that 
 she could trust. It wns our old friend the bookkeeper, Mr. 
 Wilson. To him, ever since Mr. Nordheim's death, had been 
 confided her views and wishes in reference to the settlement of 
 the affairs of her husband. Those affairs had turned out much 
 better than any one anticipated. It was true that Mr. Nord- 
 hcim had been very extravagant, but it was no less true that 
 the firm had been making every year a large amount. Mr. 
 Nordheim's original capital had never been touched. On the 
 contrary, every year when the accounts were made up, Mr. 
 Nordheim hud had a considerable sum to his credit upon the 
 books. As soon as this was ascertained, under Mr. Wilson's 
 advice, she had gradually withdrawn from the concern large 
 sums at intervals, and these had been judiciously invested in 
 real estate, and in bank stocks bought in her own name. She 
 was independently rich. She was aware of this fact long be- 
 fore she became aware of Marion's ill-fated attachment to 
 another, and it is not a cause of wonder that she sometimes 
 dreamed that Marion Monck would share it with her. Poor 
 Marion, little did he dream that his boyish love for Isabella 
 Granville was to be nipped in th*e bud, and also to deprive 
 him of a fund loving heart and an independent fortune. 
 
 Mrs. Nordheim had seen adversity in her early years. She
 
 VIGOR. 1^0 
 
 had been a wife without receiving any of those blessings of 
 domestic life which she had heard of, and now that the hopca 
 that were just budding in reference to Marion were so cruelly 
 withered, her heart seemed to be crushed. 
 
 Mr. Wilson came up that evening. She was alone. " Where 
 is Marion to-night?" he asked. 
 
 Mrs. Nordheim burst into tears, and made no reply. Honest, 
 true-hearted Wilson sat down- by her side, and tried all in his 
 power to console her, or al least to obtain from her lips the 
 secret of such hitler tears. As she became more composed, 
 she felt that to have the sympathy of this cold-hearted busi- 
 ness man was something, and her heart opened to him. 
 
 " Mr. Wilson, I am ashamed to tell yon why I have wept so 
 bitterly, but I am sure you will not betray my confidence. I 
 have had that youth living in the house with me as a brother 
 for so long a time. I thought I only loved him as a brother, 
 but when my husband, whom I never loved, died, I then 
 awoke to the real state of my feelings I loved Marion Monck." 
 And then she recounted to Mr. Wilson what Mrs. Tom Gran- 
 ville had told her. " Can it be possible that it is not so 
 that he does not love Miss Granville ? Tell me truly what 
 you think. I know you will speak the truth," she observed. 
 
 " Lady, I thank you much for this confidence. It has not 
 lessened you in my regard. On the contrary, I would do 
 more than ever to serve you. I, too, have become very muca. 
 attached to Marion. I have no body to love. I work hard for 
 a living. I am poor, for I have saved nothing from my salary, 
 for until within a few months I remitted all for the use of an 
 infirm mother and a sick sister in England, who had nothing to 
 support them except what I could send," said Mr. Wilson. 
 
 " You are a noble man, Mr. Wilson," interrupted Mrs. 
 Nordheim. 
 
 " Death has removed my mother, but I still have to aid 
 my sister, but having, as I said before, nothing to love, 
 I became warmly attached to Marion. I tried all in my power 
 to impart to him all the commercial information which I pos- 
 sessed. I succeeded, for he is an apt scholar. I have watched 
 him in the office and out of it, and the more I saw of him the 
 more I liked him. When I discovered that there was an 
 attachment to Miss Grauville, I became alarmed. He never 
 informed me of it. but I could not be deceived. I knew that 
 Mr. Granville would not listen a moment to it. He has otlu;r 
 views for his daughter. I know from himself what those views 
 are, and you may believe me, Mrs. Nordheim, that 1 have beea
 
 104 VIGOR. 
 
 for months expecting an explosion. It will come sooner or 
 later, for Mr. Granville, when he sets his mind upon any thing, 
 will carry it through or die in the attempt--. You know the 
 history of his son's unfortunate attachment. It was to a heart- 
 less girl, but still, Walter loved her, and refused to marry 
 Miss Benson, that his father had chosen for him. The conse- 
 quence was, that he became an outcast, and is somewhere in 
 the Pacific Ocean as a sailor before the mast, and I do not 
 think Mr. Granville ever gives him a thought," remarked Mr. 
 Wilson, quietly. 
 
 . " But, Mr. Wilson, could nothing be done to remove Mr, 
 Granville's objections ? I would do much for Marion's happi- 
 ness. Were I to agree to put a large sum at Marion's disposal 
 to start him in business, would not that remove some of Mr. 
 Granville's scruples? I would do any thing make any sacri- 
 fice for him," continued Mrs. Nordheim. 
 
 " You arc a loving, kind-hearted woman to say so, but it 
 would not add a feather to Marion's chances. Nothing that 
 you or I could do would prove of any use. Mr. Granville has 
 made up his mind, and there it ends. Marion might run away 
 with her, but if he did, he would have her for his pains. Gran- 
 ville would never forgive or see them again in life. On the 
 contrary, he would do all in his power to ruin Marion, and 
 plunge the married couple into deeper misery," replied Mr. 
 Wilson. 
 
 " What a character he must be ! I never heard of such a 
 man. He does not seem to be so iron-hearted and so stern," 
 remarked Mrs. Nordheim. 
 
 " He is even worse than I have pictured him to you. Oh, I 
 know him well. I have known him long years. Let me offend 
 him to-night, and although I have almost starved my life out, 
 yet he would turn me into the street penniless, and see me 
 starve with as little remorse as if I was a dog," said Mr. Wil- 
 son. 
 
 " My honest friend, I begin to understand you, and I like 
 you more and more Bear this in mind. I find friends are 
 few. You are a true friend to me, I do believe. If need be, 
 and you want a friend, Mr. Wilson, come to me at once," and 
 she gave him her hand, which he took, although his own trem- 
 bled. 
 
 " Nothing, then, can be done in favor of Marion in that quar- 
 ter ?" she continued. 
 
 " Nothing. He must take his chances, and they are fearfully 
 against him," replied Mr. Wilson.
 
 VIGOR. 1 65 
 
 " How is it that Mrs. Tom Granville seems to be in favor of 
 the match ? Is it not very queer?" asked Mrs. Nordheim. 
 
 " It will cost her a home ; but I believe if her heart was laid 
 bare, it would be found that she hates her proud brother-iu- 
 law so heartily that she would rather injure or thwart him in 
 any purpose that he holds near at heart, if she sacrificed home 
 and every thing else a woman holds dear," replied Mr. Wilson. 
 
 " Mr. Wilson, tell me what I ought to do. I cannot have 
 Marion Monck live longer in this house." 
 
 " Is he aware, dear lady, of your secret attachment to 
 him ?" asked Mr. Wilson. 
 
 " Great Grod, no ! I should die for shame could I think he 
 dared dream of such a thing ! No. No one but yourself 
 knows it, and I want you to forget it, as I shall endeavor to do. 
 I told you because I need advice. I do not know what to do. 
 He must leave the house, but it seems cruel to tell him to go. 
 What will he think of it? How can it be done ? Oh, do tell 
 me, Mr. Wilson, and I will be so grateful," continued the ex- 
 cited lady. 
 
 Mr. Wilson thought for several moments, but did not say a 
 word. At last, as he noticed that Mrs. Nordheim was waiting 
 for a reply with the greatest anxiety depicted in her face, he 
 asked, " l)o you wish him to leave immediately ?" 
 
 " Oh at once to-night if it were possible. I do not want 
 him to remain an hour longer than is absolutely necessary. I 
 am afraid of myself that is, I am afraid that something might 
 occur to Mr. Wilson that would betray my secret." 
 
 " Then you must resort to innocent deception. Do you 
 know any place where you could go and remain two or three 
 days ?" asked Mr. Wilson. 
 
 " Oh yes, at Woodbury. I was there during the summer 
 the cholera was here don't you remember 1 ?" 
 
 " Certainly I do. Well, we must send you up there. As 
 soon as Marion comes home this evening, say to him pleasant- 
 ly, ' Marion, you must move to-morrow, for I am going away, 
 and shall probably break up housekeeping.' If he asks when, 
 or where, tell him. If he asks when you are coming back 
 you don't know. Let him remove to-morrow with his things. 
 He will find some other place. Once out of the house, you 
 will have no further trouble," was the sound advice of Mr. 
 Wilson. 
 
 " I will take your advice, but it is hard. Still I feel my- 
 self it must be done." 
 
 " Be sure that you place his removing upon that ground
 
 1GG VIGOR. 
 
 alone, that, you are going away. Don't let him imagine for a 
 moment it is for anv other reason." 
 
 Soon sifter, Mr. Wilson took his leave. He had hardly got 
 away from the house before Marion, using his ni<rht key, en- 
 tered, and stood before Mrs. Nordheim. She received him as 
 cordially as though nothing had happened, and it would have 
 been hard work to have made the announcement that night. 
 She felt that she had not the heart to do it. Bat he said 
 " Bessy, I have got to go back to the office to-night for a short 
 time, and shall then spend the balance of the evening at Mr. 
 Granville's, in State street." 
 
 There was no more delicacy about telling him that she was 
 going into the country, and that he must find another home 
 " at least for a while," she added, as she saw his amazed look, 
 " although I do not think I shall keep house much longer in 
 the city. I mean to pay a visit to Charleston." 
 
 " Can I help you in getting ready to go in the country ?" 
 
 " No you will ha?e enough to do to get your own things 
 ready. If I need help I will send down to Mr. Wilson." 
 
 " That is very cold language to use to me." 
 
 " Not at all. You will have enough to do, as I said before, 
 and the sooner you. get removed with your things, the sooner 
 I shall be able to go and now good night. I have got work 
 to do," and she hastily left the room. 
 
 It was this communication, that he mentioned to Mr. Gran- 
 ville, who invited him to his house. The next day Marion 
 went up to Bond street, and before starting ordered a cartman 
 to meet him there, and to bring down his trunk. He found 
 Mrs. Nordheim in the parlor. She half regretted her deter- 
 mination. It appeared unkind on her part, and entirely un- 
 necessary. Probably she would have told Marion he need not 
 go; but when he arrived, unfortunately for him, he exclaimed, 
 " Well, Bessy, I have come for my things, and I am going 
 with them to Mr. Granville's, in State street." 
 
 V I am very plad you have found so pleasant a place. You 
 will find Miss Granville a much more agreeable hostess than 
 you have found me." 
 
 " No, that cannot be. You have been very kind to me, 
 Bessy." 
 
 " Well then, get your things in your trunk, for your cart- 
 man is at the door ready to receive them," and then she hur- 
 ried to her room and locked the door. 
 
 Marion, when he had packed his trunks, tried to see her, but
 
 VIGOR. 1GT 
 
 the girl told him her mistress had too bad a headache and could 
 see nobody. 
 
 Mr. Wilson called that evening. She saw him, but her pale 
 cheeks and tearful eyes betrayed that if it had not cost much 
 trouble to get Marion out of the house, it would cost her still 
 more to get him out of her heart. 
 
 " He has gone, has he ? I am glad of it ; and now will vou 
 visit the Connecticut village ?" 
 
 " No, I believe not. There is no occasion for it, and I am 
 not well." 
 
 " Should Marion call here, what then ?" 
 
 " I have ordered the servants not to let him into the house, 
 and to keep the door locked constantly so that he cannot come 
 in as of old with the night key, and to sav that I am not home, 
 or any thing else they choose. I will not see him under any 
 circumstances, at least for a month. By that, time I shall be- 
 come accustomed to his absence, and shall be able to see him 
 without any emotion. I am very glad that he ia gone. Now, 
 Mr. Wilson, will you do me a favor V 
 
 ' I will if I can/' 
 
 ' Let one month go by, and then I wish you to remove to 
 th s house ; will you do it ?" 
 
 ' If }'ou wish it, I will." 
 
 ' I do wish it." 
 
 ' What will people say "? I do not speak in reference to 
 myself, dear lady, but on your account." 
 
 " Mr. Wilson, I do not care, what people say. I intend to 
 act during the remainder of my life upon my own ideas of 
 what is right and what is wrong following the one and avoid- 
 ing the other. You have been the book-keeper of my deceased 
 husband many years you have acted as my agent in settling 
 up his affairs. I still need your assistance, and shall continue 
 to need it for a long time, perhaps. I am alone, with no male 
 person in my house ; you are living in a common lodging house. 
 If you are sick, you have no one to aee that you do not suffer. 
 Now why should you not come and take up your residence with 
 iue ? Who can or who dare object to it ?" 
 
 " True, that is very true, and I feol very much flattered by 
 your kind invitation. I will try and be of use. But I like in- 
 dependence, and if I come here I shall expect to pay some 
 share " 
 
 " Stop, sir, at once. I cannot repay you for your kindness 
 with any thing that I can do ; and if you come up here to live, 
 I wish you to relieve me of all responsibility or anxiety about
 
 1G8 VIGOR. 
 
 business matters. You will be made comfortable, but the 
 word pay must never be used. You become a member of my 
 family. Wby, do you suppose thai Marion ever paid for be- 
 ing with us ? No indeed." 
 
 " I really was not aware whether he did or not, but he ren- 
 dered himself very useful to Mr. Nordheim, did he not ?" 
 
 " Once he may have done so, but you will continue useful 
 to me. The mere fact that I have a middle-aged gentleman in 
 my house, is full payment. I need a protector and a friend, 
 and I shall find one. That is not all, Mr. Wilson. You have 
 done more for me in attending to my complicated business than 
 any paid merchant could have done. What I should have 
 done without you, I know not. Your suggestions have been 
 very valuable. That is not all. I do not suppose you intend 
 to remain the slave of Mr. Granville all your life, and when 
 you get too old to work be sent to the workhouse, if you can 
 help it. Very well you can help it. I say so to you now, 
 and what I say now I will say six months or a year hence. 
 The moment you see an opening to go into business on your 
 own account, and only need money, let me know, and you shall 
 have whatever you require. You are aware that Mr. Gran- 
 ville promised poor Nordheim that he would, take a partner 
 whenever I requested him to do so. You can talk to Mr. 
 Granville at your earliest convenience, and if he will take you 
 into partnership at my request, and in compliance with his 
 death-bed promise, then I name you, and I will furnish what- 
 ever capital he may require." / 
 
 " I have no words to express my gratitude for such a liber- 
 al offer. Oh, Mrs. Nordheim, what can I do ?" 
 
 " I will tell you one thing that you can do. I have to re- 
 ceive in cash a sum equivalent to about twelve thousand dol- 
 lars from Mr. Granville some time this mouth, have I not ?" 
 
 " About that amount." 
 
 " Look out for a house with a large garden in some quiet 
 street. Buy it for me. I detest this street, the house and all 
 its memories. As soon as you make the purchase I will re- 
 move into it with my furniture. Don't say a word more." 
 
 What curious thoughts that book-keeper had that night as 
 he walked down to Clark & Brown's in Maiden Lane, where he 
 had lodged for so many years. A new world was opened to 
 him. 

 
 VIGOR. ICO 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Struggle of Mfrchnnts to k ep up Tke. Failure of Mac A"7 $ Aspinwall 
 Loss of Friends The A'signmtnt by Mac N-.il Sf Co. Human Feel- 
 ing for those u'ho Fail O'Doemall's Interview with Colonel Mac Neil 
 7h". Latter b-gins to I dissipate Consolation in Harrison St'tet with his 
 Ch Idren Removes from the City Hotel to Fifty Dollars a year Lodgings 
 His Bureau in a Centre street Grog *hop~ Queer Doings A Gentetl 
 LoafersLifs Anhon'st Crtditor (fives the Colonel Eight hundred Dollars 
 due him The Value of a little J/I/TJ y. 
 
 MAC NEIL & ASPINWALL struggled bravely to keep on and 
 to recover their losses, but it was all in vain. Both partners 
 lived extravagantly, and Colonel Mac Neil wa? so kind-hearted 
 that he could not say no to any request or solicitation for pecu- 
 niary aid. For some time after he had made provision for his 
 mistress McPherson and their two children, both himself and 
 his business partner made every effort to keep from failing, 
 but as is usual in such cases, they made matters worse. They 
 paid two, three, and even five per cent, a month to get their 
 bills receivable cashed. They bought goods on time, shipped 
 them to different parts of Europe, and received cash advances 
 on the same, but it was of no use. Every day that this firm 
 continued to pay their notes, their affairs became more fear- 
 fully involved. At last the day of ruin came. Colonel Mao 
 Neil had been to his office in the morning, and although his 
 partner tried to keep up good spirits, and speak encouragingly, 
 Mac Neil asked him " How long is this state of things going to 
 last?" 
 
 " 0, we may get through yet. To-day will be a hard day, but 
 Mr. Grauville has promised us three thousand dollars as a loan, 
 and with that we can keep on a week at least, ; before that time 
 .something will occur in our favor. Keep up good heart, 
 Colonel." 
 
 With such consolation, the Colonel left his place of business, 
 visited a few haunts, and then went and took dinner with Miss 
 McPherson and his two little ones. He did not leave them 
 until nearly five o'clock, and then he started down Broadway 
 towards the City Hotel. He was opposite St. Paul's Church, 
 when he met an acquaintance, a merchant whom he knew very 
 
 8
 
 170 VIGOR. 
 
 well. He stopped, and \vliile shaking hands with the Colonel, 
 who was quite surprised at such an exhibition of warm feeling, 
 expressed his regret at what had occurred. 
 
 " These accidents we are all liable to, but I hope the mis- 
 fortune will be but temporary." 
 
 " Really, you must be more explicit ; what misfortune do 
 you allude to ?" 
 
 Colonel Mac Neil had not the remotest idea of what was coming. 
 
 " Why, to your failure suspension. It is talked of in the 
 street. The notes of your firm have been protested at the 
 Bank to-day. Were you not aware of it, Colonel ?" 
 
 " Indeed I was not. Great God ! This is awful ! Excuse 
 me, but I must hurry on ;" and the Colonel did hurry on. He 
 went to his store. There was a gloomy set of clerks there, but 
 hi's partner was absent. He called his chief clerk on one side. 
 
 " How is this ? Have our notes been protested to-day ?" 
 asked the Colonel. 
 
 " I am sorry to say that it is too true. Mr. Aspinwall was 
 to have received some money from Mr. Granville, but only a 
 few moments before the Banks closed, he declined lending us 
 the money. There was no time to remedy, and Mac Neil and 
 Aspinwall have failed." 
 
 " Thank you. It must have happened sooner or later, and 
 perhaps it is as well now as at a later period. Can you give 
 me a small sum of money ? ' demanded the Colonel. 
 
 " yes sir ; we are not so bad off as not to have some money 
 left. I drew five hundred dollars, and Mr. Aspinwall took half 
 and told me to hand yoa the other half. Here it is, sir," re- 
 plied the clerk. 
 
 The Colonel took the money, then proceeded to, the City 
 Hotel, and went to his room. He gave orders that he would 
 see no one except his partner, should he call. He laid down 
 upon his bed, but he could not sleep. He walked the room, 
 but it brought no relief to the deep agony of his mind. He 
 was cast down; his commercial name was blasted. "1- shall 
 never rise again." 
 
 The Colonel was an honorable man. He met his partner the 
 next day, and they agreed to give up every thing to assign 
 all the property that they held jointly or individually. " Leave 
 me only my clothes, and I shall feel happy in giving up every 
 thing else," said the Colonel. Some of the creditors proposed 
 giving him a release. The Colonel replied that it mattered 
 but little, but that he should be pleased if they gave a release 
 to his partner, who would probably endeavor to get into busi-
 
 VIGOR. 171 
 
 ness again, but as for himself it mattered .but little, as he 
 should never engage in commercial pursuits any more. To 
 his partner, Aspinwall. who asked him how he intended to get 
 along, the Colonel replied, 
 
 " For some time, at lezfist, I have a pretty sure source of in- 
 come. I have several thousand dollars due me debts of 
 honor, from personal friends, to whom I have frequently loaned 
 money. Those debts are not included or mentioned in our as- 
 signment, and the parties will only pay them to me." 
 
 "Why, Colonel," replied his more experienced partner, 
 " have you the least idea that those friends to whom you have 
 loaned money, now that you are a ruined man, will ever return 
 you the money they have borrowed ?" 
 
 " Of course they will, and be glad to do it, when they are 
 informed that I need it. I did not ask them while in pros- 
 perity," replied the unsuspicious Colonel. 
 
 " Ah, my worthy partner, you have got to learn- an awful 
 lesson. Mark my words you will never receive a dollar from 
 those friends, as you call them. They will avoid you as they 
 would poison." v 
 
 " I hope not, and I know to the contrary. You regard the 
 world as worse than it is, but we shall soon see. I hope, As- 
 pinwall, you will not suffer much from our failure. I mean, 
 that you will have money for your immediate wants." 
 
 " I shall, Colonel, because I shall go to work at once and 
 earn it. 1 have already secured a clerk's position, with a lib- 
 eral sTilary. Have you seen Mr. Granville since our failure, 
 and what excuse could he make for behaving so badly to us, at 
 the latest moment, too ?" inquired Mr. Aspinwall. 
 
 " I have not seen him, and I shall not endeavor to do so. 
 Do we owe him any thing?" asked Colonel Mac Neil. 
 
 " Not a dollar lie took good care of that. And now good- 
 bye, Mac. God bless you ! Keep a stout heart and a stiff 
 upper lip. If I can ever serve you, let me know how," was 
 the sincere parting words of Mr. Aspinwall. 
 
 The Colonel was deeply affected. Mr. Aspinwall had hardly 
 left the room before Mr. O'Doemall entered. 
 
 " Ah, Colonel, I am glad to see you indeed I am. Glad to 
 see you looking so well. Bad business, your having to fail, but 
 I hope you have kept back something snug, eh ?" remarked 
 O'Doemall. 
 
 " John, what do you take me for ? I have given up every 
 thing except a few debts owing to me individually by some of 
 my friends. You, for instance, have had several accommoda-
 
 172 VIGOR. 
 
 tions from me at different times, in all I believe amounting to 
 over five hundred dollars. Now is the time that I need it re- 
 funded, and I hope you will not be backward," observed Col- 
 onel Mac Neil. . 
 
 " My dear Colonel, if you knew how I was situated. I 
 haven't a dollar to keep myself with. I thought to get some 
 from you, knowing that you had failed, and had no more notes 
 to pay. I felt sure that you had plenty of money, and I was 
 going to ask you to lend me a hundred," said O'Doemall. 
 
 " O'Doemall, I believe you are a precious rascal, and I will 
 expose you unless you pay me some portion of what is so justly 
 my due." 
 
 " Expose me ? Why, Mac, you must be joking ! If I owe 
 anybody, it is your creditors. You say that you have not as- 
 signed in your schedule what I owe you, and therefore I think 
 if you make any stir about it, you are more likely to expose 
 yourself." 
 
 " Leave the room on the instant, or by . Go, go ! 
 
 Don't make me put my hands upon you, or it will be the worse 
 for both of us," exclaimed the Colonel. 
 
 " Why, Mac, you are as cross as a bear ; but I will leave 
 you now, and see you some time when you are better natured," 
 said O'Doemall. 
 
 " Scoundrel, if you ever dare to speak to me again, under 
 any circumstances, I will break your head! Begone !'' said 
 Colonel Mac Neil, sternly. . 
 
 Mr. O'Doemall was somewhat alarmed, and made a precipi- 
 tate retreat. 
 
 " Perhaps Aspinwall was right, and I, shall not be able to 
 collect a dollar from my fair weather friends," thought the 
 Colonel. Colonel Mac Neil was not to be an exception to the 
 general rule, that when one meets with misfortune, all hope 
 of fair weather friends is gone. He tried several of those who 
 owed him money honestly owed him borrowed money. Not 
 a dollar could he get from them, and from those friends who 
 did not owe him he was too proud to ask a favor. So days 
 passed on, and poor Mac Neil found his position changed. He 
 was still a gentleman still could be amusing, and when he 
 frequented old haunts, he met with some who at least could 
 afford to stand a treat. There was one source of consolation 
 yet to the broken down man, for he was completely broken 
 down. After his failure, he began to drink to excess. His 
 eye-sight, never good, partially gave way. This source of com- 
 fort was in the quiet two story house in Harrison street. He
 
 VIGOR. 173 
 
 had provided for those three dear ones, and they could not 
 want. 
 
 Miss McPherson tried to make the Colonel tab 3 up his home 
 there. It was in vain. She urged her deep and tender love, 
 and offered to place at his disposal the income which was com- 
 ing in quarterly with regularity. No he was too proud to 
 accept that ; or perhaps it was a better a still higher motive. 
 
 " Urge me not, Jane, to any meanness of the kind. I have 
 found by bitter experience what it is to bo without money. 
 You nor the children shall not have such experience. Come 
 what will, even if I die in the alms-house, I will not break for 
 an instant upon yours and the children's means. If I thought 
 that I could be persuaded to do so I would go to my room and 
 blow out my brains. No, no. Let me come and see you occa- 
 sionally, see the little ones happy, and that is all I wish I 
 shall get along somehow or other," was his reply. 
 
 His mistress knew his determined character, and that it 
 would be useless to attempt to interfere with his determina- 
 tion. She was a woman of sound sense also, and loved her 
 children. She looked to the future for them alone, and know- 
 ing that the provision the Colonel had secured to her and them 
 would be but a drop to him with his extravagant habits, she 
 forbore to urge his taking the income. So Colonel Mac Neil 
 travelled the world almost alone. He was no longer invited 
 to parties or dinners, and he withdrew from fashiorable socie- 
 ty. At last he found he could not keep a room, or board at 
 the City Hotel. He paid his bill and removed: he told no one 
 where he was going. He had an old-fashioned bureau that 
 had belonged to his father that and his trunk were all his 
 baggage. The cartman that he employed was a strange one, 
 and could not be found after he 'had removed the Colonel's 
 things. Could one of those fashionable associates have followed 
 Mac, or found him within a week after he left the City Hotel, 
 it would have been in a small, badly-furnished room in a little 
 tenement in Cross, near Pearl street. There was he and his 
 trunks, and he had made an arrangement with the proprietor 
 that he could have that room for a dollar a week, or fifty dol- 
 lars per annum. The bureau was too large for the room, but 
 the landlord had also a store only a few doors from his house. 
 It was in Centre street, and extended through from Centre to 
 Cross, only a few doors from Pearl. He had been a porter in 
 the Colonel's store in former days, and had got up to be pro- 
 prietor of a three cent grog shop. It was in the rear of this 
 store that Mac had his bureau. Harry Mercer, the propri-
 
 174 VIGOR. 
 
 etor. was much grieved when Mac told him his situation, but 
 Mac would accept no favors. He was grateful for a home 
 where his poverty would not he exposed, and where it came 
 within his means. Harry Mercer was glad to have Mac there. 
 The bureau took up but little room, and was placed near the 
 rear door. The store was always open at daylight, and Colo- 
 nel Mac Neil soon after came, opened his bureau, proceeded to 
 shave himself, and after half an hour would be ready to go to 
 take his morning draught. Jemmy the clerk had a bottle of 
 rather choice brandy which was kept exclusively for Mac's own 
 use. Then he would deliberately read the paper with as much 
 satisfaction as when he was spending twenty thousand dollars 
 a year. His old porter respected him and his dignified ap- 
 pearance, for he was scrupulously neat, and his intelligent con- 
 versation made him respected by the regular customers of the 
 store, who it is needless to say, were a uew set of' acquaint- 
 ances. 
 
 Colonel Mac Neil was a king-pin among these new people. 
 When he had read the morning papers, he went and procured 
 breakfast somewhere, and then returned. At about eleven 
 o'clock, the same hour that he used to show himself to his 
 fashionable frfends, the Colonel would go up to Washington 
 Hall, down in Barclay street, or some other well known resort, 
 where he could mix freely but independently with the old set. 
 He would generally be asked to dine by some of the young 
 bucks, who felt honored by his acceptance of the invitation. 
 The afternoon would be spent in dining and finishing some 
 wine. Then the Colonel would return to the store, and sit and 
 chat with his Centre street acquaintances more sociably than 
 with the Broadway set. They were delighted with him, and 
 there were no end of drinks. About once a week, as it reached 
 nine o'clock, the. Colonel would say, 
 
 " Harry, let me have ten dollars." 
 
 " Certainly," would be the smiling reply of the one called 
 Harry. 
 
 With this money placed in his pocket book he would go to 
 some of his old gambling haunts. He rarely lost. Fortune 
 favored him on almost every occasion. He would not abuse or 
 tire her ladyship. He bought his chips, and calmly played 
 them until his earnings reached twenty or sometimes fifty 
 dollars. Then he stopped and would play no more, partake of 
 a light supper, and go to his solitary room. 
 
 In the morning, when Mercer opened his store, Mac would 
 hand him all, reserving ten dollars perhaps. This sum was to
 
 VIGOR. 175 
 
 be used to give the Colonel the very luxury of happiness. He 
 would forget his usual routine when such a white day chanced, 
 and be off for a large grocery on the corner of Church and 
 Canal streets. There he would order an old cheese, a few 
 pounds of the best tea, a loaf of sugar, and a few choice 
 thing% as many as he could carry, and these he would carry 
 himself to No. 27 Harrison street, and there would be a merry 
 time of it. 
 
 How queer it is that when rich, or with plenty of money, 
 the most sensible men have no idea how far and how much 
 happiness a very small sum will sometimes confer. Colonel 
 Mac Neil never spent ten thousand dollars with half the per- 
 ponal satisfaction to himself that these ten dollars would give. 
 He always took care that there should be some silver left to 
 purchase whatever the children used most to desire. 
 
 These were happy days to the Colonel. He was independent 
 too. He was not drawing upon their little source of income. 
 
 He did not frequent the gambling saloons with any regular- 
 ity. He went there for a purpose. He had lost large sums 
 there. He went to win back enough, as he said, to keep him 
 afloat He played coolly and with skill. If the game was faro, 
 he played small until all the cards were out but one. Then it 
 was a fair bet, and his chance of winning was upon a par with 
 the bank. If Ije lost his capital of ten dollars which he invari- 
 ably took with him from Mercer, he played no more. Some- 
 times a person who had known him would give him fifty dollars 
 to pley on shares. Then the Colonel would generally win, but 
 as soon as his share reached fifty dollars, he would play no 
 more, but go to his little lodgings in Cross street, and the next 
 morning add it to his pile in Wilson's hands. 
 
 There was another curious trait in Mac Neil's character. 
 Whenever he got a considerable sum, say a hundred dollars, 
 in Mercer's hands, he would say, 
 
 " Harry, give me a receipt for fifty dollars for one year's 
 lodgings." 
 
 Mercer would give it without comment, and take the fifty. 
 
 " Now thJt leaves fifty dollars" or sixty, as the case might 
 be " in your hands ; is it not so ?" asked the Colonel. 
 
 " Yes, Colonel ; but are you aware that you have already 
 paid me for three years' lodging at fifty dollars a year, as we 
 agreed ?" replied Mr. Mercer. 
 
 " Oh yes, I am perfectly aware of it, and I mean to be on 
 the safe side and be ahead for some years. You are rising in
 
 176 VIGOR. 
 
 the world ; money is of use to you now. I look ahead, and 
 am trying to provide good lodgings, eh ?" added the Colonel. 
 
 On other occasions when his luck would be good and he had 
 a surplus in Mr. Wilson's hands, he would go and pay for a 
 suit of clothes ahead. Again, he would pay for quite a bill of 
 useful articles which he knew Mrs. McPhcrson or her children 
 needed. She, poor honest woman, asked no questions, but 
 made up her mind, that from some cause or other, the Colonel 
 spent more, money on her and her children, without an in- 
 come, than he had ever done while he was rich. But Colonel 
 Mac Neil in poverty days never got entirely broke. He always 
 had something to fall back upon. He dressed better, seemed 
 happier, and was more so, than in his proudest days. Some- 
 times a gentleman, who had means restored him, would pay 
 back the Colonel what he owed him. On one occasion he re- 
 ceived from such a source eight hundred dollars. He laughed 
 in his sleeve I don't want it now. He made Jane McPherson 
 add it to the sum already in the Savings Bank. 
 
 Mac Neil began to feel the value of money. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXII. 
 
 The Parents of Marion MoncJc in South Carolina The Count Fahechinskfs 
 Gratitude The Count with hie Bunkers, Prime. Ward ty King Old Nat 
 Prime His Views of Real Estate on New York IslandThe Count buys 
 One Thousand Lots Realizes $'250.000 by the operation Miss If orris %ne& to 
 Sussex and buys a Farm for her I'aients, and sends her Brother and Sister 
 to School. 
 
 OUR readers may deem that we have neglected the family 
 of Marion Monck, as rarely has an allusion been made to them. 
 Not so, however. He was the all of his parents, and not a 
 week passed but that he both wrote and heard from them. He 
 was very careful to remit them all his surplus money, from 
 month to quarter and as he received a very liberal salary, 
 amounting to eight hundred dollars, and his expenses being 
 very light, his remittances during the year amounted to a 
 considerable sum. He was devotedly attached to his parents, 
 and he had very correct views of his relations to them. He 
 felt that until he was of age, they had a right to what he 
 could earn above paying his own personal expenses. These 
 were rendered very light in consequence of the liberality of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Nordheim, while he lived with them.
 
 VIGOR. 177 
 
 The Count Falscchinski on one occasion asked him what he 
 did with all his money " You can't possibly spend your mo- 
 ney." Marion replied, 
 
 " I do not, Count, but I send it home to my parents. 1 do 
 not want more than I can use." 
 
 " That is all very fine, but if you saved up your salary you 
 could speculate a little, and add to it. What are you going to 
 do for capital by and bye, when you want to go into business? 
 Now I have got a pretty considerable capital in the hands of 
 my bankers, Prime, Ward & King, and it is growing." 
 
 Marion said he was very glad to hear it, and added, 
 
 " But why, Count, are you so anxious to get money ?" 
 
 " Ah, Marion, you have seen me when I was very, very 
 poor. It is bad to be poor. You have been my good angel. 
 You brought me luck you have made a new man of me. I 
 ^vyll never forget you, Marion. I would die for you. I will 
 prove my gratitude to you some day. You don't need my aid 
 now. You will some day. I am making money\ I work for 
 it night and day. I have a fixed purpose ; never mind what 
 it is ; and that reminds me that I have got a note from my 
 bankers to come around there so good bye. M 
 
 The Count went to Wall street to his bankers ; when he 
 reached there he was ushered into one of the inner offices, 
 where he found the head of the firm. 
 
 " Count, good morning. I have sent for you to tell you 
 that if you choose to place your money out under my direction 
 it will pay you better than the five per cent which is all we 
 can allow you," said old Mr. Prime, the head of the house. 
 
 " Really, Mr. Prime, you are very good. Will you point 
 out to me a mode, and 1 shall follow your advice. 1 have found 
 it of great service heretofore," said the Count. 
 
 " Buy real estate up town it will advance very rapidly. It 
 is the only certain way to make and keep money in New York. 
 Real estate don't run away. It will always rise. It will keep 
 going up as long as there is an acre of unoccupied ground on 
 Manhattan island. Every dollar that a man don't require he 
 should invest in real estate. If he does so, he will be im- 
 mensely rich some day. I have heard you say that you shall 
 not require your money in some years ; is it so ?" asked the 
 old banker. 
 
 " You are right it is so," replied the Count. 
 
 " Then take my advice and buy real estate. I know of some 
 property up town that can be bought for a hundred thousand
 
 178 VIGOR. 
 
 dollars. I advise you to let me order it for you," said Mr. 
 Prime. 
 
 " But, my dear Mr. Prime, I have no such sum of money 
 nothing like it," replied the Count. 
 
 The banker smiled as he replied, "Nor need you to have. 
 It only requires about twenty per cent to be paid in cash, and 
 the rest can remain on bond and mortgage for five years. Be- 
 fore that time expires it may do to sell, or hold still longer 
 it will double in value, I have no doubt." 
 
 The Count did not hesitate a moment. He knew nothing of 
 what he was doing, but his confidence in the stout solid old 
 gentleman was unbounded. He requested him to order the 
 purchase made. Mr. Prime replied, . 
 
 " I will do so. You need not trouble your head. My firm 
 "will employ a lawyer to examine titles, draw up papers, and 
 fix it all up. We will pay the twenty per cent, and charge it 
 to your account. You will do well, Count." 
 
 The old banker was flattered by the confidence shown in 
 him, and the promptness with which the Count agreed to take 
 his advice and that old man was a shrewd, wise old man in 
 every way. He never led anybody astray. It was the time 
 when real estate began to take that great rise which has been 
 the means of making many immense fortunes. It was just at 
 the commencement of that rise when nearly a thousand lots of 
 25X100 feet each were bought for the Count at a price inside 
 one hundred dollars a lot. 
 
 It was but a few days after this conversation that this heavy 
 purchase was made by order of Mr. Prime. The Count said 
 not a word to any one except one. He had no sooner got out 
 of the banker's office than he hurried up to Broome street to 
 the residence of Miss Norris. She was at home, and for a 
 wonde* was alone. Tom Granville was not to be seen. 
 
 She appeared glad to see the Count, and asked him a varie- 
 ty of questions, to all of which he replied promptly. Then he 
 said, 
 
 " Now Clara, I owe you a good turn. You have once placed 
 me in the way of making money. I can.e up this morning to 
 do the same for you. I can tell you how you can more than 
 double your money, and be safe too. I know that you have 
 saved up at least three thousand dollars." 
 
 " Four thousand, Count four. But I have not a cent left ; 
 if is all gone," replied Miss Norris. 
 
 " Great God ! Clara, I am amazed. That Tom Granville, 
 I suppose," observed the Count.
 
 VIGOR. 179 
 
 " Why, Count Falsecliinski, bow perfectly horrified you do 
 look. But I have not told you all. I have not only spent the 
 four thousand dollars, which includes the legacy of five hun- 
 dred left me by Mr. Nordheim, my lately respected friend, but 
 I have run in debt two thousand more, which I must go to 
 work and earn money to pay off. Tom Granville, I assure you, 
 my dear Count, had no more to do with my wilful extravagance 
 than you had," said Miss Norris. 
 
 " Wilful extravagance ! Really, Miss Norris, I am sur- 
 prised. I feel some interest in your future, and I grieve to 
 say that I am distressed to hear you confess you have acted so 
 imprudently. I gave you credit for a stronger mind but it 
 can't be helped," said the vexed Count. 
 
 ""Count, you have never given me more credit than I de- 
 serve, and don't let me have your contempt for a moment. 
 Hear me. I have parted with my money, that you know I 
 placed in bank for safe keeping, and where it was drawing in- 
 terest. Count, you know that I was sold, or sold myself to 
 Nordheim for the sum of five hundred dollars, and that the 
 money went to my parents. I have also a brother and sister. 
 That money probably saved my father from a drunkard's fate, 
 and my mother and her children from degradation or a county 
 poorhouse. If there is any place we love it is the place where 
 we were born if there is any ambition in the world, it is to 
 stand well with those among whom we are born. It don't 
 matter where we go what we do how great our success may 
 be in the wide world, we do not value our good fortune fully, 
 unless it raises us with those in our little village, among those 
 where we were born. Now, Count, have patience. I have 
 not squandered my money, but I will tell you what I have 
 done with it. For years I have bean of service to my parents 
 since I am in New York I have helped them all I could. 
 Last summer I was up in Sussex county, and spent a week 
 with them in their somewhat comfortable home. I then learned 
 that a very valuable farm, containing some three hundred 
 acres, with good dwelling, barn, out-houses, &c. was for sale. 
 It almost adjoined my old homestead, and was considered a 
 great dairy farm. Luckily I met with a lawyer in that region 
 who was always partial to me. I told him I wished to buy 
 that farm for my father and mother to live upon. I informed 
 Lira also that I had four thousand dollars in cash. The price 
 asked was eight thousand dollars, but it was to be sold at auc- 
 tion in the course of a few weeks, and the terms were half 
 cash and half in five years. I returned to New York, made
 
 1 80 VIGOR. 
 
 my arrangements, got my niouey out of the Savings Bank, and 
 took it up to Sussex, and deposited it in the Sussex Bank, and 
 waited patiently for the day of sale. I said nothing to my pa- 
 rents. I instructed my lawyer what to do. The sale day came, 
 and my lawyer, Mr. Thompson, bought the farm for six thousand 
 dollars. I paid more than half cash, and have five years to 
 pay the other two thousand, and an interest which only amounts 
 to one hundred and twenty dollars. You may imagine how my 
 parents felt. You cannot conceive my happiness, Count. It 
 was happiness." 
 
 " You have raised yourself much in my opinion. You hold 
 the titles of this farm in your own name ?" inquired the Count. 
 
 " Entirely. My father has enough to stock it pretty well. I 
 don't expect it to pay me an interest until it is paid for, but it 
 will be a home for them for life, and it may be of great value 
 to me some day. Now I shall sleep easy. The farm had been 
 allowed to run down. It is well worth fifty dollars an acre, 
 and can be made worth that. My father is a good farmer. In 
 his hands he will make its value increase," replied Miss Nor- 
 ris. 
 
 " I hope you will succeed in all you undertake, Miss Clara ; 
 and perhaps in this matter you have done more for your inter- 
 est than what I had to propose. At any rate you have shown 
 yourself a good, amiable child, and you have made yourself 
 happy by doing a good action. How is Master Torn 1" asked 
 the Count. 
 
 " I have not seen him, Count, since morning," replied Clara. 
 
 " Are you aware that his wife has been on to Baltimore and 
 employed a distinguished lawyer to get a divorce for her from 
 her husband ?" 
 
 " I was not aware of it, and I do not think Tom knew any 
 thing about it. Well, she will get the divorce without any 
 trouble, for I believe Tom will not contest the matter. How 
 did you hear of it ?" inquired Miss Norris. 
 
 " From her brother-in-law," replied the Count. 
 
 " Why, Count, perhaps she is anxious to get a divorce from 
 Tom to set her cap for you ?" laughingly observed Miss Norris. 
 
 " My good Clara, she has got no money, and I cannot marry 
 anybody who has not got plenty of money money that brings 
 in an income property that gives such a sum every year. 
 Then a man is a man, and can be a gentleman even in this 
 country, if he has a fixed allowance. I want at least an income 
 of twelve thousand dollars a year. Then I shall feel easy
 
 VIGOR. . 181 
 
 not until then. I will have it some day, Miss Clara. Nous 
 verrons," observed the excited Count. 
 
 " Ah, Count, you have some secret that I cannot fathom ; 
 but perhaps you will tell me some day g what it is," observed 
 Miss Norris. 
 
 " I must leave you now, and I wish you a good day. The 
 more I think of it, the more I am pleased with your purchase 
 of that farm," said the Count. 
 
 The Count returned to his humble lodgings in John street. 
 
 It is not exactly in place to tell here the result of the real 
 estate operations made by the Count Falsechinski, at the sug- 
 gestion of old Mr. Prime, but it may be as well told here as 
 any where else. For the moment the purchase was made, real 
 estate began to rise rapidly. Lots sold one day at a certain 
 price, were re-sold again the next day almost for double, and a 
 third, fourth and fifth sales were made within a very few days 
 at the most extravagant prices. The lots purchased by the 
 Count Falsechinski were in about what would be now the lower 
 part of the city. They comprised a large vegetable garden. 
 
 Not many weeks after the papers were all duly signed and 
 the money paid, the Count was again sent for by old Mr. 
 Prime. He went to the old banker's office. Mr. Prime said, 
 " Count, you can get two hundred dollars a lot for your lots. 
 Do you wish to sell ?" 
 
 The Count was amazed, and he replied, perfectly cool 
 " What do you advise, Mr. Prime ?" 
 
 " Wait. The fever has not yet got full headway." 
 
 " I will do as you advise," and the Count went back to his 
 clerkly duties in the office of Mr. Granville, who knew no more 
 of the Count's transaction with the banker than he did of the 
 world of spirits. Not many weeks more elapsed before the 
 Count received a note asking him to dine with the great banker 
 at his country seat near Hurlgate. The Count accepted the 
 invitation, and a-t three o'clock took a seat in the carriage of 
 the banker. When they were on the way up, old Mr. Prime 
 ordered his coachman to drive to the garden, which was, in 
 reality, the property of the Count. He pointed out its advan- 
 tages, and prophesied that ere many years it would be cov- 
 ered with palatial residences. The ride was a delightful one. 
 The dinner was excellent, the Count was introduced to the 
 banker's family, and he in his turn made himself uncommonly 
 agreeable. That night he slept in the house of his hospitable 
 entertainer, as it was too late to go into the city. After the 
 breakfast was concluded the next morning, the old banker re-
 
 182 VIGOR. 
 
 marked, as though it was not of much consequence, " Count, 
 your lots have gone up to three hundred dollars. You can get 
 that for every one of them. I think the fever has reached a 
 crisis. I advise you to sell. You can get one half cash. That 
 is one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. You owe eighty 
 thousand dollars mortgage. Take eighty thousand dollars out 
 of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and buy the mort- 
 gage, Count. Then you will have a first mortgage for one hun- 
 dred and fifty thousand dollars, bringing seven per cent, in- 
 terest and seventy thousand dollars in cash. The mortgage 
 has to run five years. Perhaps at that time it will be down, 
 and you can foreclose and get your property back again." 
 
 It all happened as the old financie/ prophesied. The Count 
 sold out his real estate, the thousand lots, paid the mortgage 
 of eighty thousand dollars, had seventy thousand dollars in his 
 banker's hands, and a mortgage of one hundred and fifty thou- 
 sand dollars drawing seven per cent interest, and one of the 
 best possible investments. We now return to the regular nar- 
 rative and to the moment when the Count returned to his John, 
 street humble quarters. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 The " Battery" a Quarter of a Century Since Marion Monck Isabella Gra :- 
 villf and Miss Benson The Man tVho Killed Mr. NordheimF. GailLrl 
 He Accompanies Miss Benson Home from the Buttery The Accomjil'.alied 
 Seducer A Career oj Villainy T/ie Due -~-An Anecdote of Rascality The 
 World's Opinion 
 
 THE old citizens of New York must well recollect what a 
 place of resort the Battery was twenty-five years ago. Then, 
 most of the adjoining blocks were made up of handsome dwell- 
 ing-houses, and they were occupied by our wealthiest mer- 
 chants and most respectable people. The hotel now on the 
 corner of Broadway and Battery Place at that time was the 
 city residence of old Mr. Prime, of whom we have spoken. Of 
 an afternoon the Battery was crowded with children accom- 
 panied by their parents, or sometimes only by their nurses. 
 Young ladies of the first respectability took their morning or 
 afternoon walks unattended. No outrage was ever known or 
 dreamed of. What a contrast with the dirty, filthy Battery of 
 the present day, when it is almost as much as a man's life 18 
 worth to go upon the Battery, and a female could not walk 
 across it without being grossly insulted. In losing the bat-
 
 VIGOR. 183 
 
 tery, New Yorkers lost one of the most invigorating and health- 
 ful promenades in the city. No uptown park or square can be- 
 gin to compare with it. 
 
 It was a custom of Marion Monck, after he removed to Mr. 
 Granville's house, to rise early in the morning and go out upon 
 the Battery for a stroll. He was generally accompanied by 
 Isabella Granville, and these occasions were seized upon to 
 converse with all the sincerity of a young attachment upon 
 their future hopes of happiness. It was a very difficult matter 
 for Isabella to persuade Marion, who detested concealment, 
 to keep from her parent the real state of matters. But she did 
 succeed in doing so, and although Mr. Granville could see 
 them walking upon the Battery from his windows, yet it never 
 crossed his mind for a moment that there was the slightest 
 danger to the peace of mind of his daughter from such an in- 
 tercourse. One beautiful morning, while Marion and Isabella 
 were promenading what is called the lovers' walk, they were 
 met by Miss Benson. Isabella and the latter lady embraced 
 each other affectionately, and Bell insisted that Margaret 
 should join them, and then go ad take a breakfast. Miss Ben- 
 son agreed to promenade with them, but positively refused to 
 go to the house afterwards. " I don't like Aunt Kate, Isabella, 
 and my feelings are fully reciprocated, I am well aware." 
 They then had been walking up and down several times, and 
 finally took the outer walk nearest the water. The young la- 
 dies noticed some boat off in the river, and stopped, watching 
 its motion ; while doing so, both leaned over the wooden fence 
 or railing. Marion stopped in his walk, and was waiting for 
 his two companions to proceed, when a gentleman walked up 
 to him and asked him if he was not Mr. Monck. 
 
 " I am," was the reply. 
 
 " My name, sir, is Gaillard." 
 
 In an instant Marion recognized him, for he had seen him 
 twice at the time Mr. Nordheim was injured at the Opera 
 House. 
 
 " I am glad to meet you, sir You have been absent from 
 town since since " 
 
 " I know what you would, say. Yes, sir. I have been home 
 to South Carolina. By the way, you are from my own State. 
 I heard of you frequently in Charleston." Marion bowed and 
 replied, 
 
 * Yes, sir ; I am also from that State." 
 
 Here the two young ladies seemed ready to walk again. Ma-
 
 184 VIGOR. 
 
 rion wished to ask Mr. Gaillard some further questions, and he 
 at once preaented him to both ladies. 
 
 " Will you walk with us, sir ?" inquired Marion. 
 
 Mr. Gaillard consented willingly, and each took the outside 
 of the two ladies, Mr. Gaillard on the side of Miss Benson. 
 The conversation became general and very interesting. Mr. 
 Gaillard told of many matters that had occurred in South Car- 
 olina, (for it was when nullification had a foothold in that 
 State) \vhich were entirely new to Marion. Finally Miss Ben- 
 son, who had been looking at Mr. Gaillard very earestly p 
 ceased walking and said. " I am sure 'I am not mistaken. Why, 
 you are the gentleman that kil that injured Mr. Nordheim." 
 
 " Mr. Gaillard bowed and said, " I am that unfortunate per- 
 son." 
 
 " Unfortunate," repeated the lady. "I do not know why 
 you should call yourself untortunate. You acted bravely, and 
 protected your sister from insult as a gallant gentleman should 
 do. I like you all the better for that affair, and I assure you 
 that I consider myself highly honored by forming your ac- 
 quaintance ; Marion, I am really much obliged to you. What 
 do you say, Miss Isabella ?" 
 
 " I am pleased to make Mr. Gaillard's acquaintance. I 
 thought I bad seen him before, but I could not remember 
 when and where. You were pointed out to me that dreadful 
 night. I almost hear the scream that Mr. Nordheim gave. But 
 I never blamed you. Even my father, sir, said you did per- 
 fectly right." 
 
 Mr. Gaillard bowed again, and made some inquiries after Mr. 
 Granville, whom he said he met at the hospital the day Mr. 
 Nordheim died. 
 
 " It is about time, Miss Isabel, for us to go home to our 
 breakfast. I see the girl is waving a handkerchief on the steps 
 as a signal. Will you go with us, sir ?" 
 
 " I must decline. I am placed rather delicately. Remem- 
 ber Mr. Nordheim was Mr. Granville's partner, and my pres- 
 ence may bring unpleasant memories to him," answered Mr. 
 Gaillard. 
 
 " Oh," exclaimed Miss Benson ; " don't decline on that ac- 
 count. Mr. Granville is not so excruciatingly sensitive as all 
 that comes to. So long as you had not killed him, he don't 
 care. I rather think he was very much obliged to you for giv- 
 ing Nordheim that blow." 
 
 " Miss Benson, how can you apeak in that manner of my 
 father ? It is very unkind of you. Well, if you will not ac-
 
 VIGOR. 1 55 
 
 company us, Miss Benson, nor you, Mr. Gailard, we must go 
 home without you." 
 
 " If Miss Benson will permit me to continue to be her es- 
 cort, I shall be quite happy," said Mr. Gaillard. 
 
 " Very happy, indeed ; and if you will escort me as far as my 
 home, I shall be happy to have you take breakfast with my 
 good folks. My worthy papa is rather disposed to like you, 
 and as you are from the next State to the one in which my 
 mother was born, she will be charmed to meet you. So good- 
 bye, Bell. Good morning, Marion." 
 
 Mutual good-byes were exchanged, and while Marion re- 
 turned to No. 9 State street with Isabella, Mr. Graillard and 
 Miss Benson continued on up Broadway. 
 
 " Miss Benson, I consider myself one of the most fortunate 
 of individuals, in becoming personally acquainted with you this 
 morni ig. I have desired to know you for a longer period than 
 you are aware of. I first noticed you that night at the Opera. 
 I have since frequently met you, and I hope you will excuse 
 my frankness when I say that it had not been with the hope 
 of being introduced to you, I should not have made myself 
 known to Mr. Monck." 
 
 " Indeed," replied Miss Benson, " I feel extremely flattered. 
 I certainly could not have supposed for a moment that Mr. 
 Gaillard was aware such a person as Margaret Benson was in 
 existence until this morning " 
 
 The couple continued the conversation until they reached 
 the residence of Colonel Benson. It was with some difficulty 
 that Miss Benson persuaded the young South Carolinian to 
 enter her father's residence at so'unusual an hour, but she suc- 
 ceeded, and her happy manner of making him acquainted with 
 her parents and her brother, soon made him perfectly at his 
 ease. Mr. Benson was glad of an opportunity to talk about 
 the South, and the Colonel, it would almost appear, was de- 
 lighted at meeting the gentleman who had so opportunely rid 
 the world of Nordlieim. 
 
 " It was really quite a godsend to Mr. Granville, I assure 
 you. It could not have happened better, for Mr. Nordheim 
 was a bold, bad man. He certainly cared neither for God nor 
 the devil. If he had not died when he did, I am quite sure 
 Mr. Granville would have been obliged to have dissolved his 
 commercial connexion with him, and these dissolutions are 
 always troublesome affairs. Nordheim got killed, and all diffi- 
 culty was at an end. I am really quite pleased to meet with
 
 1S6 VIGOR. 
 
 you, and I hope you will frequently visit us. We shall always 
 be happy to see you." 
 
 The Colonel's invitation was warmly seconded by his amia- 
 ble partner, and when the breakfast was over, and it was time 
 for Mr. Gaillard to leave, he was obliged to give his address, 
 and promise that he would call very soon again. It will be 
 easily supposed that Prank Gaillard gave a willing promise to 
 comply with such a pressing ipvitation. Mr. Gaillard gave his 
 address as at the City Hotel. Such was not the fact however. 
 A year previous, this gay youth had taken a house in Wooster 
 street, not far from Canal. !he rent was five hundred dollars. 
 He had furnished it handsomely, and employed a very intelli- 
 gent colored woman to keep house for him. He had arranged 
 that his letters should be sent to the City Hotel, and every day 
 he called there for them. 
 
 Probably one of the most accomplished seducers, and one of 
 the most successful ones that ever visited New York, was this 
 same Frank Gaillard. He was an only son. His father died 
 when he was quite young, and left him a large property ; but 
 in addition to this, he inherited from an aunt a large plantation 
 in St. John Berkley Parish, on Cooper river, a large rice plan- 
 tation, and about three hundred slaves. This, when he became 
 of age, he left under the charge of an overseer named Frede- 
 ricks, who was both honest and capable of planting successfully. 
 The young Gaillard, when in the South, resided mostly with 
 his mother, who lived on a plantation some twenty miles dis- 
 tant from his own. He also owned a magnificent residence in 
 Charleston, where his mother and sister resided a portion of 
 the year, when the country fever prevailed on the plantations. 
 The family also owned an upland cotton plantation near Green- 
 ville, and frequently the mother and sister passed the summer 
 season in the up country. Not so Frank. He had been edu- 
 cated at the North, and graduated at Yale College, New Ha- 
 ven, with a fair standing. While pursuing his studies at Yale, 
 he had frequent opportunities of visiting New York, and it 
 was there that he acquired habits of dissipation, and a love for 
 illicit and animal pleasures. He could gamble, but he was too 
 cool-blooded to ever be injured by it. He could not have be- 
 come a professional gambler. He was a splendid specimen of 
 a man. Added to this, was a power of conversation beyond 
 that of almost any man we ever met. He was perfectly irre- 
 sistible when he chose to be so, and could fascinate any one, 
 man or woman, who came within his circle. This latter power, 
 when combined with a total want of principle, a perfect reck-
 
 VIGOR. 1 87 
 
 lecsness of consequences, and a courage that was unquestioned, 
 made him, where females were concerned, a most dangerous 
 acquaintance. He spared no pains, no money, no labor, no 
 patience, when he undertook to ruin and seduce a young and 
 lovely girl. Her rank or her position in society was no bar or 
 safety guard against his designs. The poor working girl with- 
 o.ut a dollar or a friend, or the daughter of the wealthiest mer- 
 chant or most powerful statesman, were equally insecure against 
 his lustful passions. He regarded them as fair game, and 
 while he would have scorned to have his honor questioned, or 
 his veracity doubted, and would have fought knee deep in J)iood 
 with any one who questioned either, yet when the ruin of a 
 female was to be effected, truth, honor, all was forgotten. The 
 basest falsehoods, the most solemn promises, the most sacred 
 influences were brought to bear. He kept house for no other 
 purpose than to get virtuous and respectable girls or married 
 women to visit there. He went so far as to invite them to call 
 and visit his mother, who, it is needless to add, never saw the 
 inside of his residence. When once the poor victim was en- 
 snared inside those parlors, her ruin was effected ; for then, 
 when she was startled at not meeting his mother, he would tell 
 the poor girl that it was all a farce that his mother was not 
 there, but that it was a house of the worst kind, and then 
 threaten her with 'exposure if she did not submit to his base 
 purposes. After all this coaxing and threats, he laid aside all 
 further mild measures, and resorted to force, and generally 
 succeeded. He used wines and if these failed he resorted to 
 drugged wines. He boasted that no girl or married woman 
 ever left his house in Wooster street except she left him a full 
 conqueror. 
 
 The very intelligent reader may say that such a character 
 could not exist in New York a day or a month, and pursue un- 
 punished so high-handed a game. His power seemed almost 
 miraculous in this regard ; his oily tongue, when once his ob- 
 ject had been accomplished, would seem capable of extenuating 
 and procuring forgiveness from injured victims for the most 
 atrocious rape ; and this horrid crime, which not once, but iu 
 dozens of cases, seemed to fix permanently the attachment of 
 the wronged one. Then he was liberal with his money, and 
 had an abundance of it to be liberal with. Never in any one 
 instance was the notice of the authorities called to his villain- 
 ous acts. Even had it been otherwise, his money and his 
 power of persuasion would have been placed in requisition 
 and he would have gone scot free. Of these acts, vile as thej
 
 188 VIGOR. 
 
 were, he was never ashamed ; but in company with male friends 
 he would openly boast of his having seduced that young lady, 
 or of having debauched such a married woman ; would give 
 names and dates, and all the attending circumstances. 
 
 On one occasion, at a dinner, he made use of a lady's name 
 in such a connection. A gentleman arose, and said, " If Mr. 
 Gaillard has told the truth, he is a scoundrel. If he has not, 
 he is not only a scoundrel, but a vile liar to boot." Gaillard 
 knocked him down. A challenge was the consequence, and the 
 opponent of the renowned seducer was made a cripple for the 
 rest of his life, for his free speech. 
 
 M*. Gaillard made the acquaintance of Mac Neil. It was 
 he who was relieved of some financial difficulty by the Colonel, 
 and he repaid him when Mac needed it. He continued to meet 
 the Colonel frequently, invited him to dine, gave him a scat 
 in a box at the theatre often, and would have loaned the Col- 
 onel money. It was a custom of Gaillard's, when he met Col- 
 onel Mac Neil at any of the gambling saloons, to furnish him 
 with funds to try his luck on their joint account. 
 
 This same Francis Gaillard was the Southern gentleman who 
 had been introduced on the morning to Miss Isabella Benson, 
 and was so cordially received by her parents. Young Benson 
 knew nothing of his character or his antecedents. Frank 
 Gaillard's position in society was unquestioned. He was in- 
 vited to the most select parties, and associated with the high- 
 est. You may know what sort of a character he bore. On a 
 particular occasion he was introduced to a family where tliere 
 was a lovely daughter. She had a lover who knew Gaillard. 
 With much frankness he informed Gaillard that he had told the 
 girl in question and her parents exactly his character. 
 
 " I told them, Gaillard, that you had ruined many girls, and 
 was the greatest libertine alive." 
 
 " Had I a design to ruin your fair flower, my dear sir, I 
 snould feel much obliged for your paving the way by giving 
 me such a character." 
 
 " How so 1 What do you mean, Mr. Gaillard ?" 
 
 " Simply this. Your intended is a simple-hearted, innocent 
 girl. She believes you to be a moral and a safe man. She 
 never thinks of you in any other light, or in connection with 
 any unusual feeling connected with her own passions. You 
 give me an immoral character. I meet her, for the moment ; 
 she sees me ; her head is occupied with funny ideas. She is 
 agitated. She is canvassing over the subject, wondering who 
 the victims are whether she knows them what would be her
 
 VIGOR. ISO 
 
 fate if she too were a victim. The ico is broKen if she has 
 one naughty thought, it will grow into fruit. Time and oppor- 
 tunity only is needed. She don't need me to break down the 
 barriers by a free and unrestrained conversation upon forbid- 
 den subjects. She expects it as a matter of course, if she puts 
 herself within my reach. I have no design upon your fair 
 fiance, but I tell you, if I had, you have paved the way for 
 me. It is a bad policy for a young fellow to -ever try to injure 
 a rival, by telling the girl that a rival suitor is immoral and a 
 libertine. Much better tell her that the rival is secretly a 
 saint, and says his prayers three times a day, and reads a chap- 
 ter in the New Testament when he goes to bed, and one of 
 David's Psalms when he gets up at daylight." 
 
 Frank Gaillard in this very case forgot, his resolution, for in 
 less than three weeks he did seduce the intended bride of his 
 friend, and she eventually became a poor miserable girl of the 
 town. 
 
 We leave the career of this gay Southerner for a time, to 
 begin a more interesting chapter. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXIY. 
 
 Thf twenty-first birth day of Marion Mwck Mr. Granville gives a grand 
 Dinntr in State street James Gordon Bennett and the Herald Boarding- 
 house life in New York A capital Story Guillard relates a Southern Story 
 in reference to a Siave, wh') whipped his Mnter hy his own orders, to see 
 " how it felt" Mr. Bennett relates an Anecdote of his first Arriwil in the 
 United States Songs and Stories Breaking up of the Dinner Party. 
 
 MR. GRANV:LLE was so well pleased with the conduct of his 
 chief clerk, Marion Monck, that he determined to show his ap- 
 preciation of his character by giving a magnificent dinner in his 
 honor, on his twenty-first birth-day. He announced his inten- 
 tion to our hero. 
 
 " Well, I really feel grateful, Mr. Granville, the more so 
 as it is en^rely unexpected on my part, and I cannot realize 
 that I have deserved so much honor at your hands," remarked 
 Marion in reply. 
 
 Mr. Granville gave a short happy laugh, and said, " Ah, 
 Marion, all my dinners in your favor cannot recompense you 
 as you deserve, but I wish to know how many friends you will 
 invite ? I have but very few to come, but I want you to make 
 out a good long list. I am satisfied that you will invite no man
 
 190 VIGOR. 
 
 to place his feet under my mahogany unless he is entitled to 
 be there as your friend ; and I am quite sure you have no 
 friends who have not recommended themselves to your friend- 
 ship or acquaintance by being in some way English clover at 
 least." 
 
 "I believe my circle of acquaintances, Mr. G-ranville, although 
 somewhat limited, are rather clever, and at least original. I 
 have no particular friends except at the counting house, and 
 from that list I shall invite but one Mr. Wilson," Marion re- 
 plied. 
 
 " Excellent Wilson is an original in his way, and one of my 
 oldest friends in London. I am glad you have invited him 
 without a suggestion from me." 
 
 While Mr. Granville was speaking, Marion took a pencil 
 from his pocket, and wrote on a piece of paper a few names. 
 Handing it to Mr. Granville, he remarked, " Here is a full 
 list only a baker's dozen including Mr. Wilson, of whom 
 we have spoken/' 
 
 " Very good. I will have invitations written in my own name, 
 and state that the dinner is given in honor of your birth-day," 
 said Mr. Granville. 
 
 ' " Thank you, Mr. Granville ; and when they are ready, will 
 you be so good as to hand them to me. Some of them it will 
 be difficult to find without my aid ;" and Marion laughed as the 
 idea crossed his mind of what a hunt the porter of Mr. Gran- 
 ville would have to find some of the names on the list. 
 
 " I will do so, Marion, with pleasure. I have but four 
 friends that I shall invite on my own account. One is Cap- 
 tain Marryatt, who is stopping down Broadway at Blancard's, 
 another is an old London acquaintance who resides with his 
 family at Staten Island, and has lately gone into business in 
 this city, Mr. Cubson, and Colonel Benson and his daughter. 
 The Colonel is, as you are aware, connected officially with the 
 British Government. Besides these four and your list, my 
 daughter and my sister-in-law will be the only ladies at the 
 table, and they will run away early. I shall order a dinner 
 for twenty persons, and if I am not mistaken it will be rather 
 a choice affair," observed Mr. Granville. ^ 
 
 " I hope it will, and be pleasant for you and agreeable to all 
 those invited, >; said Marion ; and with these words they parted, 
 Marion to attend to his duties, and Mr. Granville to carry out 
 his ideas in reference to the dinner party. 
 
 At six o'clock on the evening of December 2, 183-, the din- 
 ner given by Mr. Granville came off at his residence in State
 
 VIGOR. v 191 
 
 street. It was a dinner such as few could get up ; for Mr. Gran- 
 ville was an epicure himself, had traveled extensively, and his 
 wines were of the very choicest quality. 
 
 The guests began to arrive before six, and were shown into 
 the south front parlor, which overlooked the Battery. The 
 walls were covered with really choice paintings, selected with 
 great care by Mr. Granville, who had seen some of the best 
 paintings'in the galleries of Europe, and was not likely to be 
 deceived in purchasing on his own account. Isabella was 
 seated at the piano, playing " The Last Rose of Summer," very 
 much to the enjoyment of Mr. Cubson, whose jolly red face and 
 happy laugh made a picture of itself. Miss Benson was near 
 the piano, listening to soft nonsense from young Gaillard of 
 South Carolina. In a recess of the window overlooking the 
 Battery was the brilliant Mrs. Tom Granville, and seated near 
 her, apparently engaged in earnest but low-toned conversation, 
 was a short thick set man, w ; th very dark hair, and very coarse 
 looking. It was the celebrated Captain Marryatt. Colonel 
 Benson stood near them, watching some object upon the Bat- 
 tery. He was tall, slim, pale-faced, very intellectual, and a 
 perfect gentleman in appearance, but English from top to toe. 
 These were the friends that Mr. Granville had invited, as he 
 remarked, " on his own hook." Scattered around the room 
 were others, invited by Mr. Granville at the request of Marion. 
 As they arrived, Marion introduced them to Mr. Granville, 
 who in turn presented them to Isabella his daughter. 
 
 Distinct couples were formed all over the room. Some ad- 
 mired the paintings, others listened to the music, while others, 
 who were previously acquainted, conversed together upon the 
 various matters of the day. 
 
 The party assembled numbered twenty-one. Marion passed 
 from one to the other, endeavoring to make each one of his 
 own friends at home, and perfectly at his ease. He came near 
 Mrs. Kate Granville, and she exclaimed, 
 
 " Marion, where upon this earth did you manage to pick up 
 such a lot of funny acquaintances ? Who, in the name of all 
 that is good-looking, are they T" 
 
 " Frietids of mine clever people in their way, and all are 
 men worth knowing," replied Marion. 
 
 " Do introduce me to that modest, bashful person, dressed 
 in black, who seems afraid of his own shadow," said Mrs. 
 Granville. 
 
 " Not now, Aunt Kate, but I will do so before dinner is
 
 192 VIGOR. 
 
 over ;" and he bent over and whispered something in her ear. 
 She actually jumped off her chair with astonishment. 
 
 " Marion, are you in earnest ? Is that so ? Mr. Bennett of 
 the Herald ?" she asked earnestly. 
 
 " Precisely so," was the reply. 
 
 " And is he going to dine here ?" asked Mrs. Tom Granville. 
 
 " Unquestionably he will," was the reply. 
 
 Kate Granville looked long and earnestly at him, and then 
 remarked, " Marion, I am sure you are quizzing me. That 
 gentlemanly, quiet person the notorious Bennett ! I don't be- 
 lieve a word of it." 
 
 Reader, in 1834, when the Herald first started, the other 
 papers made such unfair onslaughts on the new comer, as were 
 perfectly terrific. It seemed as though the old sixpenny sheets 
 had a presentiment, that unless they crushed out the Herald 
 and Bennett, that it would be his destiny to crush them out. 
 Some of the most worthy people in the city had made up their 
 minds, from these attacks, that Mr. Bennett was a perfect ruf- 
 fian a blackguard in looks and actions a man who attended 
 balls, and sneaked into houses of ill-fame to get names of indi- 
 viduals to attack in his paper. They could not conceive of a 
 more base* character than he was supposed to be ; and the idea 
 of inviting Mr. Bennett to a dinner among gentlemen and ladies, 
 was considered a species of atrocity. But to resume our writ- 
 ing. It was now half past six, dinner was announced, and the 
 entire party passed into the dining room. Mr. Granville took 
 the seat at the head of the table, and requested Marion to do 
 the honors at the other end. The ladies had seats near Mr. 
 Grranville, and Marion had so'.ne choice spirits of the other sex 
 to flank him. 
 
 We have no taste for describing a dinner. Suffice it to say, 
 that the good things were numerous, and served up in excel- 
 lent style. The wines were delicious, and several healths 
 were drank before the ladies took their departure. Then Mr. 
 Granville opened : 
 
 " Now, gentlemen, I want every one to be at home and be 
 happy. Get acquainted with each other the best way you can. 
 And now let me propose a toast. It is the birth-dr.y of that 
 young gent at the other end of the table. He is twenty-one to- 
 day. Here is his health and may he and his friends be as 
 well satisfied with him on his three-score and tenth birth day 
 as we are on his twenty-first." 
 
 All joined, and drank bumpers. Marion made a reply, ra-
 
 VIGOR. .193 
 
 ther confused, for he was somewhat bashful before so many, 
 but he was let off easy. 
 
 " Mr. Bennett, shall I have the pleasure of a glass of wine 
 with you '?" asked Mr. Granville. Every eye was instantly 
 directed to Mr. Bennett, for with the exception of Marion, he 
 did not know a soul in the room, and not one even knew him 
 by sight before this dinner. 
 
 " With pleasure," said Mr. Bennett, and he drank his wine 
 and bowed to Mr. Granviile. 
 
 " We all know the Herald," continued Mr. Granville, " al- 
 though to most of us this is the first time we have had the 
 pleasure of your personal acquaintance." 
 
 Mr. Bennett made a quiet reply, and conversation became 
 general again until Mr. Cubson was called upon for a song, and 
 he gave in the most exquisite manner, " My pretty Jane " to 
 the great delight of all the company. 
 
 Some one else was asked, but refused, and then Mr. Gran- 
 ville sang a pretty air. On its conclusion he observed, " Now 
 I have sung a song, and therefore it is perfectly proper that I 
 should offer a resolution that every one at this table shall, in 
 regular order, contribute some thing toward our spending a 
 merry evening ; if he cannot sing a song, he must give us a 
 good sentiment or toast, or tell a good story. No one shall be 
 let off." This proposal was acceded to at once by all, and as 
 Captain Maryatt sat next to Mr. Granville, it was his turn 
 next. He complied, and sang a song called " Artichokes and 
 Cauliflowers," and his song and health being drunk, the next 
 in order was Marion Monck. 
 
 Marion had never sang a song in his life. Speech-making^ 
 was not his forte, and he had never written a line, and did not 
 know that he had it in him, but he told a story. " I have been 
 very lucky," said Marion, " since I came to New York to find 
 a home, never having been but for a few days in a boarding- 
 house, and have lived in the family of one of my employers 
 formerly with one now dead, and more recently with the kind 
 friend, as well as employer, who now presides at the head of 
 this table," and he bowed to Mr. Granville, and then con- 
 tinued, " but I had a friend who arrived in New York about 
 the same time I did. He is dead now, poor fellow. Board- 
 ing-houses were too much for him. When he was on his 
 deuth-bed he said to me, ' Marion, beware of boarding-houses, 
 pious boarding-houses especially,' and he told me the fearful 
 tale which I shall repeat as nearly as I can remember it, in his 
 words. ' My mother was a pious woman. I was an only child. 
 
 9
 
 194 VIGOR. 
 
 When I left home, at the tender age of fourteen, to come and 
 try my fortune in this great metropolis of sin and commerce, 
 she was fearful. I was born and brought up in a beautiful 
 New England town, that contained about four hundred inhab- 
 itants and four churches or places of worship one Episcopal, 
 one Baptist, one Methodist, one New, and one Old School Pres- 
 byterian, and one Roman Catholic. It was a pious place. 
 Every church had a bell, and on Sunday morning was a jing- 
 ling that would astonish a small crowd. My mother was an 
 Episcopalian, and I was brought up in that faith, but she was 
 a good woman, and was herself inclined to think that there 
 might be pious people even among other de'nomimitions beside 
 her own, but she was not certain upon that point. Religion, as 
 you see, coming from a small village with six churches, was a 
 starting point with me in life. My mother was all anxiety to 
 get me in a pious boarding-house. Well, I reached New York 
 safely, and got with a pious landlady, a Mrs. Bacon. She was 
 a sister of the Tappans. She commenced on me in a regular 
 course. I had to be at prayers in the morning, and prayers at 
 night, and we had to stand grace over a miserable piece of half 
 done beef at dinner, and bean soup. Grace at tea, over dish- 
 water, a slice of stale bread, rancid butter, and ginger-nuts of 
 the commonest kind. The old lady bought her provisions by 
 the cent's worth at a Dutch grocer's. I remonstrated with 
 great benevolence told her that by buying wholesale she 
 could get good articles and at a low figure. She was grateful, 
 said she didn't know any wholesale grocers, begged me to buy 
 her by the quantity and she would pay me. Did so bought 
 ^eighty dollars' worth. Never got paid to this day. Insisted 
 that I was hard-hearted ; wanted me to go and hear Burchard 
 at the Chatham street Theatre ; went with old lady ; cousin 
 went with old lady's pretty daughter ; Burchard went it strong ; 
 old lady got excited ; rose in her seat ; audience paused ; 
 begged Burchard to pray for a handsome young sinner by her 
 side ; called me by name, Harvey Foot ; got up angry ; begged 
 Burchard on my own hook to pray for a swindling old lady, 
 who had stuck me eighty-five dollars in groceries, and wouldn't 
 pay up ; audience excited ; expelled by saint members, and 
 obliged to quit pious boarding r houses. That was boarding- 
 house No. 1.' " When Marion had reached thus far, the quaint 
 manner in which he narrated the story not a smile upon his 
 countenance, not a muscle moved, the effect was richly lu- 
 dicrous, and the small audience actually screamed as he con- 
 tinued on with Pious Boarding-House No. 2, No. 3, No. 4 and
 
 VIGOR. 195 
 
 so. No one was more pleased than Mr. Bennett. He turned 
 to a neighbor and remarked, " A man who can talk that way 
 can write. He will make a clever editor one of these days, 
 that Marion Mouck." When Marion had finished, he proposed 
 a toast. " Health and long life to all pious boarding-house 
 keepers, and may they never lack stale bread or ginger cake 
 nuts for their teas." The toast was drank with shouts of 
 laughter. " As it is my turn, gentlemen, I call upon my 
 neighbor here neighbor in a double sense, as he was born in 
 the same parish in the South as myself Mr. Francis Gaillard." 
 Mr. Gaillard arose, and was excusing himself from a song, 
 when he was interrupted by Colonel Benson. " Pardon, gen- 
 tlemen ; I beg to ask Mr. Gaillard to tell us some story about 
 the South something about the slaves ; these are exciting 
 times. Horrid stories are told about the cruelty of Southern 
 masters. Mr. Gaillard is a large slave-holder. I hope he will 
 give us an anecdote of a different kind." 
 
 "Thank you, sir, for the suggestion. I am not certain that 
 a little story I can tell will contain any thing interesting, or 
 possess any especial merit. It shall have one advantage over 
 those horrid tales of tortured and murdered slaves ; it shall be 
 true. My father, when a young man, had a favorite slave 
 named Billy. He was coachman, and frequently travelled with 
 my father, with or without the carriage. On one occasion they 
 were in a boat crossing Cooper river, and it upset. My father 
 had no more idea of swimming than he had of flying, and death 
 by drowning seemed inevitable, but Billy was not only a splen- 
 did swimmer, but a most powerful man. He seized hold of 
 my father, and although the tide was ebbing, yet, after almost 
 superhuman exertions, he succeeded in getting his master and 
 himself safe on shore. It was some time before my father 
 came to, and he and Billy footed it to the plantation. My 
 respected parent and Billy were nearly of the same age. The 
 fact became known that Billy had saved my governor's life, 
 and although it secured him a great many praises and favors 
 from other members of our family, yet it never seemed to alter 
 my father's course. He seemed to have forgot it, and though 
 Billy did pretty much as he had a mind to do, I do not remem- 
 ber that Billy got severely whipped by my father's orders ex- 
 cept on one occasion." 
 
 " Whip a poor negro who had saved his master's life ! That 
 is gratitude with a vengeance," muttered the jolly Englishman 
 Mr. Cubson. 
 
 " Let me finish, sir, if you please," continued Mr. Gaillard.
 
 196 TIGOR. 
 
 " The occasion was this. My father was somewhat eccentric, 
 but I ever found him a very just man. He had an overseer 
 on one of his rice plantations, a Mr. Maice, who was a great 
 hand for whipping. My father did not exactly like it, but 
 whn he spoke to Maice, the overseer would say, very deci- 
 dedly, ' It's no use to try to get along, sir, with niggers unless 
 you give them a lashing. I never order more than twenty 
 lashes, and it does the niggers good.' Maice took his leave, 
 my father pondered over the matter for some time, and then 
 called Billy. 
 
 " Billy came. 
 
 ' How d'y, Billy.' 
 
 " ' How d'y, Massa Frank.' 
 
 " ' Billy, go and get the overseer's whip.' Billy went and 
 got it. ' Now help me take off all my clothes,' said my father. 
 
 " ' Gor a mity, Massa Frank, what you giwine to do now ?' 
 said Billy, 
 
 " ' I want you to give me twenty lashes, as hard as you can 
 put it on, as haid as Maice whips the niggers," said my father. 
 
 " ' Why, Massa Frank, wat de debbil you want for do now ? 
 Get dis nigger hung ?' replied Billy, who was very much 
 scared. 
 
 - " I want you to do as I say. If you dou't, I'll send for Sam, 
 and have you whipped,' said my father. 
 
 "' No ; I swear God I can't lick you, Massa,' replied Billy. 
 
 " My father got in a rage, and called in Sam, who was a sort 
 of second negro chief in the house. Sam came. ' Sam, I 
 want you to whip Billy,' said my father. 
 
 " ' Eli, Billy ? "What you do Massa now ? Take off your 
 coat.' 
 
 " Billy did so at once, and Sam gave him two or three good 
 cuts, when Billy says, ' If dat is all you want, I gib dem cuts 
 myself.' 
 
 " ' Will yon lick me now, Billy ?' said my father. 
 
 " ' 0, yes, Massa. I'll lick you. Gib me de whip' and 
 Billy took it and gave his master two rather hard cuts. 
 
 " ' Lick me harder, you rascal, or I'll have Sam lick you 
 again,' said my father. Thus admonished, Billy put in ' de 
 big licks,' as Sam, who was a spectator remarked, until the 
 quantity was reached, his master counting at, every stroke, 
 one, two, up to twenty. ' There, Billy. I don't like it, and 
 I'll be damned to hell if I'll ever have another nigger whipped 
 on my plantation.' And he never did. He never afterwards 
 had an overseer ; and if a negro deserved punishment, he gave
 
 VIGOR. 197 
 
 the very worst that can ever be given in the South it was to 
 transfer him from one plantation to another, 
 
 " But to return to Billy. My father died. When his will 
 was opened, it was found to contain a clause stating that many 
 years ago Billy Gaillard saved his life, and that he bequeathed 
 to him, first, his freedom, second, the sum of five hundred dol- 
 lars per annum, to paid quarterly at the Bank of Charleston, a 
 house onahe plantation, a horse every year, and, as he wished 
 Billy to continue to work on the plantation, he was to receive 
 pay for whatever he did from my father's successor, myself. 
 There is not a more independent gentleman in the South, sir, 
 than Billy Gaillard. When I am at home, he is always near 
 me lectures and scolds me as if I were a child. Ifus mar- 
 ried off his family, has lots of children, and is more re- 
 spected than ever was a patriarch in Bible times. He 
 has but one weakness when he goes to Charleston to get 
 his. quarterly dues, he generally manages to get moderately 
 drunk. He frequently speculates, and makes more money 
 than his income. He makes all his sons and daughters com- 
 fortable, and gives them many presents, but has never been 
 know to even dream of buying any of them their freedom, 
 although he has the means to do it ; for he has saved and in- 
 vested money for a great many years, and owns hnlf-a-dozen 
 valuable houses in Charleston that lie rents out and receives 
 quite an income from. Gentlemen, I hope I have contributed 
 a little to passing away a pleasant time. I will conclude with 
 a toast. I give 
 
 " ' The health of every Northern Abolitionist who will go 
 South and see the Institution of Slavery as it really exists ' ' 
 . The story was warmly received, and the comical idea of the 
 toast made all laugh. Even old Cubson growled out that he 
 was afraid the healths of any northern gentlemen who mncle 
 such an excursion would not be greatly benefitted. Mr. 
 Gaillard called upon Mr. Bennett for his quota. Mr. Bennett 
 very quietly remarked, 
 
 " Gentlemen, I am not much of a hand to tell a stor3 r , but I 
 would rather be guilty of telling a stupid one than to lack the 
 courtesy of trying to contribute my share to the general mirth 
 and amusement. The story told about pious boarding-house 
 keepers, but the more especially the description of the New 
 England village of lour hundred inhabitants and six distinct 
 houses of worship, reminds me of an adventure in one of the 
 game sort of towns, and I will try and narrate it. Some time 
 after I had arrived in this country I found myself in Boston,
 
 198 VIGOR. 
 
 and with but little to do. I determined to travel into the in- 
 terior and see if I could not pick up something. I had a good 
 education, and I had heard that school teachers were in re- 
 quest. I will make my story as concise as possible, and with- 
 out going into details, will mention simply that I found myself 
 in some such place in Connecticut as Mr. Monck has des- 
 cribed. The to\yn was divided into three school districts, as 
 they call them. The middle district required a " sohool mas- 
 ter," that is the designation in Yankee land, and not school 
 teacher. I offered my services to become the school master. 
 It was necessary to see the Committee, and I applied to them 
 for the situation. They consisted of a Presbyterian clergy- 
 man, acquire Phelps, and Deacon Botsford. After some con- 
 siderable bother, an hour was appointed when the School Com- 
 mittee met. I was there punctually at the time. The school- 
 house was a little one-story building, painted red outside, and 
 the inside was covered with all sorts of drawings and orna- 
 ments made by ambitious scholars. Presently the important 
 Committee arrived one by one. At last the solemn business 
 was opened. Squire Phelps asked if I was the ' young man ' 
 who was anxious to take charge of that district school. I re- 
 plied in the most amiable and seductive manner that I was the 
 person. ' Deacon, we must examine whether he is capable of 
 taking charge of our school.' The deacon grunted an affirma- 
 tive and then commenced such an examination as was never 
 heard of before. I was asked how cheap T would act whether 
 I would board round among the parents of the scholars and 
 whether I could measure wood. I got along very well and 
 quite satisfactorily until the clergyman asked me, ' What is 
 your religion, Mr. Bennett ?' I replied that I was a Catholic. 
 Then the three committee men took a general stare at me, and 
 afterwards at each other. 'Where are you from?' was the 
 next question. I did not think, but replied simply, ' From 
 Scotland.' ' yes I know where that is. It is up near Mid- 
 dletown, in Windham County.' There is, I have since learned, 
 a town called New Scotland somewhere in that region. I was 
 requested to retire. I did so, but was soon called back. ' Mr. 
 Bennett, we have consulted together in reference to your ap- 
 plication, and after examination, very impartially conducted, 
 we are obliged to decline your offer, as we do not consider you 
 competent to teach this district school.' 
 
 " Gentlemen," continued Mr. Bennett, " you may form some 
 idea of my mortification. I assure you, I never applied since 
 for a school teacher's berth. Yet I believe I am possessed of
 
 VIGOR. 199 
 
 some ability, but it has taken a new direction. I have, as most 
 of you are aware, started a new enterprise, and in the Herald 
 I have had great success. I can assure you, that by the regis- 
 ter I now circulate up in Connecticut over twenty-five hundred 
 copies of iny paper daily, and I believe I may say that that day 
 will come, improbable as it may seem, when I will issue ten 
 thousand co-pies of the daily Herald. I will give you a senti- 
 ment, ' A new era in Journalism.' " 
 
 It was drank with enthusiasm ; and the idea of a man of Mr. 
 Bennett's acknowledged cleverness to have been rejected as a 
 Yankee schoolmaster, was perfectly rich and refreshing. Mr. 
 Bennett hoped that Colonel Mac Neil would take his turn at 
 the oar. The Colonel said he should not trespass long upon 
 their time that he was happy to meet with Mr. Bennett that 
 the Herald was giving new life to the community, and was 
 making itself felt, and he hoped it would reach a circulation 
 of ten thousand daily, but that he supposed was an utter 
 impossibility, an extravagant idea, that Mr. Bennett could 
 hardly expect would be realized in many years, if ever. " I 
 cannot sing you but one song, gentlemen I will try that ;" 
 and Mac Neil sang with good taste and feeling, " My Heart's 
 in the Highlands/' 
 
 The company had by this time become quite excited. Songs, 
 stories and toasts followed each other in quick succession, un- 
 til nearly midnight, when it was proposed that all should join 
 in the good old song of " Good night, and God be with us all." 
 All were in good spirits, but no one was quite intoxicated, at 
 least to such an extent as not to be able to find his way home. 
 When the party broke up, Marion retired to his room. A new 
 life was before him he was twenty-one years old. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Of age "/ am twenty-one " Anxuty to get into Business Monck's salary 
 raised Mr. Granville's Promists Mr. Wilson to be taken as a Partner 
 Mrs. Torn Granville's advice to Marion Monck respecting her Xiece Ma- 
 rion is astonished Concludes to make a Corifidant of the Count False- 
 chinski. 
 
 " I AM of age." " I am twenty-one years old." " I am a 
 man legally." "I am a citizen." What important sentences 
 in the career of every male what an epoch in the life of every 
 man ! Americans are not like Europeans, content to slave on
 
 200 VIGOR. 
 
 for a period of years in clerkship, until the seasons of youth 
 and middle age are passed, and old age reached without a hope 
 or desire of bettering their condition, or of taking the chance 
 of bettering it, by going into business upon their own account, 
 becoming principals and employers themselves. It is a strong 
 characteristic of the general American mind. He docs not con- 
 sider himself settled in life until he is in business on his own 
 hook. He never dreams oT getting married until he is his own 
 employer. A young clerk's highest ambition is to get into 
 business upon his own account, so soon as' he is twenty one 
 years old. From this cause spring a thousand fearful evils in 
 a commercial community. Half the failures that occur to per- 
 sons engaged in mercantile pursuits can be traced to this 
 going into business at an early age, before experience justifies 
 it. Could all the young men who have gone into business 
 upon their own account in New York city before they reached 
 twenty-five years, be traced out, it would be found that they 
 have failed where, had they been content to gain experience as 
 clerks until they were thirty years of age, their after success 
 would probably have been certain. The Jews are a se-nsible 
 people in this regard. Their children don't take upon them- 
 selves the responsibilities of men until they reach thirty. Our 
 blessed Lord and Saviour did not separate himself from paren- 
 tal control until he was thirty. 
 
 Marion Monck was not destined to be an exception to the 
 general rule. He had reached twenty-one, and he began to 
 think that it was high time to get into business. The next 
 morning after the dinner, Mr. Granville informed him that his 
 salary in future would be one thousand dollars per annum. 
 " As you will continue to reside at my house without any ex- 
 pense to yourself, you ought to be able to lay aside some 
 money every year, Marion. Are your parents in a situation to 
 give you any capital to start in business, when your experi- 
 ence justifies such a step ?" 
 
 " Indeed they arc not. They might raise a small sum, but 
 I would never consent to it. I must depend upon my own ex- 
 ertions," replied Marion. 
 
 " And a better reliance no man can want in this country, 
 my boy. If you go on gaining commercial information, it will 
 be of use to you some day. Water will find its own level, and 
 so will business experience, capability, honesty, and activity. 
 You possess all of the qualifications, and all you have to do is 
 to pursue a straightforward course* and you will gain a foot- 
 hold in the commercial world sooner or later. I ain not jusli-
 
 VIGOR. 201 
 
 fied in saying what my intentions are towards you eventually, 
 but if you should remain with me a few years longer, and 
 should then wish to go into business, I shall take great, pleas- 
 ure in forwarding your views. Very likely I shall hear of 
 some person who has capital who would be willing to form a 
 partnership with you, because you have such good business 
 qualifications." 
 
 Marion had not lost a word of all this speech, which was an 
 unusually long one for Mr. Granville to make. He was pleased 
 with it, and yet displeased. It was cold, and strictly mercan- 
 tile. It gave him no hope of the future, so far as becoming 
 interested in the business of Mr. Granville was concerned. It 
 seemed to remove Isabella to an immeasurable distance from 
 his reach, but still he thanked his employer for his good inten- 
 tions. 
 
 " I shall soon make a change in the style of the firm ; and 
 as I regard you as my confidential clerk, I will communicate 
 rny intentions to you. On the first of January next Mr. 'Wil- 
 son will be taken into the firm, which will then be Granville & 
 Wilson." 
 
 Marion now expressed his sincere satisfaction, and asked if 
 he might congratulate Mr. Wilson upon his good fortune, when 
 he met him at the office. " He said nothing to me about it at 
 dinner yesterday. In fact he never opened his lips about any 
 thing." 
 
 " No Wilson is not very talkative. A very excellent qual- 
 ity too in a man. But as he has said nothing to you, I don't 
 think you had better say any thing to him. I suppose that you 
 know he is living at Mrs. Nordheim's house ?" observed Mr. 
 Granville. 
 
 " I really did not know it. When did he go up there 1" 
 asked Marion. 
 
 " Very recently. I may as well inform you that I did not 
 agree to take Mr. Wilson into the house because of his ser- 
 vices, or of his personal importance to me. I have known him 
 a great many years. He is a reliable, excellent man, and a 
 most accomplished bookkeeper. He will owe his becoming my 
 partner solely to Mrs. Nordheim. I made a promise to Mr. 
 Nordheim that i would take into partnership any one that his 
 wife should recommend. She has expressed her wishes de- 
 cidedly in favor of Mr. Richard Wilson. She also furnishes 
 him with a capital of fifty thousand dollars to put in the new 
 firm. Under these circumstances Mr. Wilson will be admitted 
 a partner. If Mrs. Nordheim had expressed the wish that you 
 
 9*
 
 202 VIGOR. 
 
 should have been associated with me, it would have given me 
 pleasure to have taken you into partnership. I am a little sur- 
 prised that she did not do so. It has appeared to me that you 
 were a great favorite in that quarter. Had you any disagree- 
 ment with her ?" demanded Mr. Granville. 
 
 " None that I am aware of. She seemed anxious that I 
 should leave her house, and appeared to act somewhat abruptly 
 in requesting me to do so,'* said Marion. 
 
 " Women are very fantastic in their way of doing things, 
 and Mrs. Nordheim does not seem to me to be an exception. 
 What has made her take such an interest in Mr. Wilson is be- 
 yond my comprehension, but I suppose they have a secret un- 
 derstanding that Mr. Wilson pays her a portion of the profits 
 he will be pretty certain to make as my partner in business," 
 observed Mr. Granville. 
 
 This conversation made a very deep impression upon Ma- 
 rion's mind, in more ways than one. It set him to thinking of 
 Mrs. Nordheim and Wilson. He wondered what could be her 
 motive. He was not long in doubt. That same day Mrs. Tom 
 Granville found him alone in the parlor. 
 
 " Marion, it is high time that you and me should have some 
 understanding about Isabella. She has confided to me the 
 secret of your mutual attachment, and I very foolishly con- 
 sented to keep it from Mr. Granville ; but I must tell you very 
 candidly I think you are both young, and both particularly 
 foolish. Mr. Granville will never consent to your marrying 
 Isabella under present circumstances. He might do so, were 
 you in successful business and making money. What are your 
 future plans ?" she asked. 
 
 Poor Marion, this was the extra pound that was to break his 
 back. He did not know what to say, but he made a sort of 
 answer, and informed Aunt Kate that he really had no definite 
 plans for the future. " I will let things take their regular 
 course. I am going with the current, and I cannot get out of 
 the stream to get ashore," said he. 
 
 " I am afraid you will have to get out of the stream very 
 soon, or you will be helped out. Have you not noticed that 
 Colonel Benson is very regular in coming here and are you 
 not aware that his hopeful son generally comes with his pa 
 and also that Mr. Granville takes Isabella and myself to the 
 residence of Colonel Benson, and contrives that young Benson 
 shall see Isabella home ?" remarked Aunt Kate. 
 
 Marion replied that he was aware of all these facts, but re-
 
 VIGOR. 205 
 
 quested Aunt Kate to inform him more plainly what impres- 
 sion she meant to convey by mentioning these circumstances. 
 
 " Why, my worthy Marion, if you don't see what it all means, 
 I do. Middleton Benson is in love with Isabella as much as 
 that thick-headed plodding young man can be in love with any 
 thing, and it will not be long before he will propose for Bella, 
 and be accepted," replied Mrs. Tom Granville. 
 
 "Accepted, Mrs. Granville ! By whom, pray? Not by 
 Isabel she perfectly detests him, to say nothing about her 
 affections being given to me. Pooh ! pooh ! You cannot fright- 
 en me with any such notion," observed Marion with some 
 temper. 
 
 "Marion, I do not want to alarm you, nor is there the least 
 necessity for showing to me any temper. It is all but a waste 
 of words. I cannot alter things, but I have endeavored to 
 kindly put you on your guard. Take it in that light," replied 
 Mrs. Granville, with calm dignity. 
 
 " Mrs. Granville, will you answer me one question. Suppose 
 Mr. Benson, Jr. should propose to Bella, would he be accept- 
 ed ?" demanded Marion. 
 
 " By Mr. Granville, do you mean ? Unquestionably he 
 would be. In fact, I think the two old heads have already 
 arranged the matter," replied Mrs. Granville. 
 
 " No I mean by Isabella ?" anxiously inquired Marion. 
 
 " Isabel would not dare refuse him under such circumstances. 
 She would refer him to papa, and although she would cry and 
 take on about it in her room, yet to Mr. Granville she would 
 appear pleased, and when the time came would marry Middle- 
 ton Benson without saying a word," replied Mrs. Tom Gran- 
 ville. 
 
 " Great God ! I can't believe it. She would never be so 
 false to me," said poor Marion. 
 
 " False is a hard word. She is a mere child, and when you 
 consented to being engaged to her, you have penetration enough 
 to have formed some idea of her character. I .think, Master 
 Marion, you have behaved excessively foolish. There is no 
 body whose advice is so good as a woman's. Before you got 
 trammelled with such an attachment, why did you not consult 
 Mrs. Nordheim 1 She always appeared to be a great friend of 
 yours," asked Mrs. Granville. 
 
 " Because Isabella requested me not to say a word to any 
 one about the matter," said Marion. 
 
 " When Isabel told me about it, Mr. Monck, I was extremely 
 curprised, and I supposed, as a matter of course, that Mrs.
 
 204 VIGOR. 
 
 Nordheim knew all about it. When I told her, she was per- 
 fectly paralyzed," observed Mrs. Gran vi lie. 
 
 "In God's name, Mrs. Granvjlle, tell me what you mean. 
 Did you tell her ? and when was it that you told her ?" said 
 Marion, excitedly. 
 
 " I did tell Mrs. Nordheim, of course, and the time was the 
 day before you moved here. In fact, she must have requested 
 you to move the very evening of the day that I saw her," re- 
 plied Aunt Kate. 
 
 "And what, Mrs. Granville, could have been her motive for 
 BO abrupt ay, so unkind a proceeding 1 Why should she be 
 so angry at my becoming attached to Miss Graaville," inquired 
 Marion. 
 
 " You are really silly. The very best reason in the world. 
 She did not wish to quarrel with Granville. She knew that 
 he would not consent to your marriage with Isabel, and sensi- 
 ble woman that she ia, determined not to be mixed up with it, 
 by countenancing you so she requested you to move as quick 
 as possible, and told some foolish story about wanting to go 
 into the country. She never did go into the country, and that 
 is proof that it was but an excuse to get you out of the house," 
 said Mrs. Granville. 
 
 " I see it all now," replied Marion. " My eyes are opened. 
 What an infatuated fool I have been. She was vexed at my 
 apparent want of confidence, and that is the secret of her cool 
 treatment." Marion was as far from the real reason as ever. 
 
 Aunt Kate continued to pour oil upon the fire that she had 
 kindled. " I dare say that if you had told her all about your 
 love for Belle, she would have advised with you about it, and 
 as she was very fond of you, it is likely that she would have 
 backed her own advice by acts. Granville is about to take 
 Wilson into partnership It is all Mrs. Nordheim 's doings. Had 
 you acted right with so good a friend as that lady, she would 
 have requested that partnership for you, and Belle's hand into 
 the bargain. .Had she done so, Mr. Granville would have con- 
 sented at once. But it is too late now," was the remark of the 
 lady. 
 
 Marion covered his face with his hands. His heart was too 
 full to speak. At last he managed to inform Mrs. Granville 
 that he would like to see Isabel, and have a full and complete 
 understanding with her. Mrs. Grauville replied, " It will be 
 of no use, Marion. She will say yes to all you say. But she 
 will not run away with you, or get married without the consent 
 of her parent. When he puts his foot down, she will obey
 
 VIGOR. 205 
 
 him, and marry the man she has chosen, and that will be tho 
 end of it. Take my advice, you would at once tell Isabel that 
 you both have been foolish, that both had better give up all 
 hope of the future, and forget each othor,'' said Mrs. Granville. 
 
 " But Isabel, my dear Mrs. Granville, will not consent to 
 any such thing. She loves me truly. Did I not think so, I 
 would never give her another thought. She will never con- 
 sent to breaking off our engagement while she is alive," said 
 the confident Marion Monck. 
 
 " Nonsense. Try the experiment at least. It will be for 
 your own happiness to do so, I assure you. Under different 
 circumstances, I dare say you and Isabel might have been very 
 happy, but not now. Good-bye. Think over what I have 
 said, and act precisely as you deem best," said Mrs. Tom 
 Granville. 
 
 Marion was completely paralyzed at such advice as this. He 
 did not know which way to turn for relief. He attended to his 
 duties the remainder of the day, and when evening came and 
 it was about time to close the store, his mind was made up to 
 take the advice of a third and a disinterested party. He told 
 the Count Falsechinski that he desired particularly to see him, 
 and asked to meet him that evening at tiie French coffee house 
 in Warren street. 
 
 " I will meet you, Marion, but not there. Make it at Del- 
 monico's, in William street. There we can have a room to 
 ourselves, and a quiet nice dinner, or supper, if you call it so. 
 I have an idea that I could guess the nature of your seeking a 
 private conversation with me, but I will not do so. Be punc- 
 tual to the time, which I wish you would make eight o'clock ; 
 do not be later. It is a bitter cold night, and a good cozy 
 room with a fire, and the nice edibles and drinkables that Del- 
 monico can get up, will enable us to pass a delightful evening," 
 replied the Count, and the parties separated. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYI. 
 
 The Night of the Great Fire in Ntw Ytrk City The Count Folser.h'.ntki nnd 
 Marion Monck at D,imonico's The Coun' a Opinions of Mr. GnmiiJc s 
 Views Marion savts the Portfol o and rujifrs (>/' Mr. Granville The 
 Great Fire, 
 
 IT was a dreadful nigtt, that night in December, 1835, 
 when the Great Fire occurred in New York. Marion left the 
 store early in the evening, and as usual took the keys of the
 
 206 VIGOR. 
 
 store from the porter, as he had previously taken the keys of 
 an immense iron safe or vault, built into the solid walls of the 
 store. He went home to tea, and after he had finished, Mr. 
 Granville expressed a desire to have a policy of insurance, or 
 to know if one had been taken out on property in a store on 
 the North River side of the town. 
 
 " I shall he over in the neighborhood of our store, and it 
 will cost me but little trouble to go in and ascertain for you," 
 was Marion's reply. 
 
 " I wish you would do so," was the answer, and Marion left 
 for Delmonico's, still keeping all the keys with him. 
 
 The store of Mr. Granville was on the corner of Broad and 
 Garden street, and its rear overlooked the graveyard attached 
 to the Reformed Church in Garden street, of which Dr. Mat- 
 thews was the pastor. 
 
 Delmonico's at that time was almost as celebrated as it now 
 is perhaps more so, as it then had no rivals and no establish- 
 ment of a similar kind could have been found in the city. It 
 was located in William street, on the west side, about midway 
 between Garden and Beaver streets. The eldest brother of 
 the Delmonico Brothers was then alive. He was a fine-looking 
 man of middle age, and his first name was John. He had an- 
 other brother named Peter. Since then, several others have 
 come to this country, while John is long since dead. He was 
 accidentally killed while shooting over on Long Island. 
 
 When Marion reached Delmonico's it wanted but little of 
 the hour appointed. He found the Count waiting, and soon 
 after a servant showed them up to a nice little dining-room on 
 the second floor, and facing the street. Soon after the dinner 
 was served, and a bottle of wine also. 
 
 " Don't talk about any unpleasant matter until we have had 
 our dinner," said the Count and Marion scrupulously re- 
 frained from the least allusion to his troubles. Over an hour 
 passed away while the Count was enjoying the meal, and then 
 he ordered coifee and cigars. 
 
 " Now, Marion, I am ready for you. Tell me how I can 
 serve you, and I will do so to an extent that you little dream 
 of. Tell me all, from the beginning to the end." 
 
 Marion then related what has already been made familiar to 
 our readers. When he had concluded, the Count remarked, 
 
 " I dare say, Marion, that you consider this unfortunate at- 
 tachment as one of serious importance. Pah ! if you could 
 view such things as I do ! Minds change young men's espe- 
 cially. Could you jump over five years of your existence, yott
 
 VIGOR. 207 
 
 would laugh heartily at this boyish attachment to a pretty 
 simpleton, for that is all that Miss Isabel amounts to under 
 the most favorable circumstances. But I will not laugh at 
 you, for I have been over the same road, and know just how 
 you feel upon this occasion. Mr. Granville will not consent 
 to your marrying Miss Isabel under any circumstances and I 
 would not either, if Fwas he. And if I was your parent, I 
 would cut your throat before you should marry such a useless, 
 insignificant piece of furniture. Pah again ! Don't look an- 
 gry, nor don't get angry with what I am going to say. You 
 have the world before you, with health and good looks. Yes, 
 Marion, you are a devilish good looking fellow, and when you 
 get a trifle more manly, you will be a splendid specimen of a 
 man. You speak several languages you have a thorough 
 mercantile education and now you would throw all these ad- 
 vantages away, and tie yourself up with a little silly girl who 
 has not done eating bread and butter. For shame, man ! I 
 thought you had a high ambition. If Mr. Granville would 
 plank down a hundred thousand dollars with the young lady, it 
 might do, but to marry her without his consent and not get a 
 cent Oh no, it's perfect nonsense. Don't think of such a 
 thing it is sheer madness," was the advice given by the expe- 
 rienced Count. 
 
 " But, my dear Count, although I am half persuaded that 
 you are right, yet how can I help myself ? We love each 
 other, and we are engaged. It would not be honorable in me 
 to break off, and I could not do it. What would she net suf- 
 fer. ?" replied Marion. 
 
 " Not a pin's-head worth not a particle. Try it. Go to 
 Miss Isabel to-morrow the first thing. Tell her you are satis- 
 fied her father will never consent to your engagement, and that 
 you cannot support a wife, and beg her to give up all thoughts 
 of such an arrangement. Tell her that your parents won't 
 consent to it. Tell her you have made a promise to me that 
 you won't marry until you are thirty years old, and see how 
 kindly she will take it. She won't make the slightest objec- 
 tion. Or if she does, your skirts are clear, and $ere is no 
 occasion for you to trouble your head any further about the 
 affair. I advise you to move out of the house of Mr. Gran- 
 ville also. Get some other place to live it is more indepen- 
 dent," continued the Count, when the alarm of fire occurred. 
 
 "Fire! Fire! Fire!" rang through the streets. The 
 Count jumped up, and so did Marion. They flung open the 
 blinds, and could see by the illuminated sky that it raged near
 
 208 YJGOR. 
 
 them. Down stairs they rushed. The Count paid the bill, 
 and they were soon in the street. It was nearly ten o'clock, 
 the cold was intense, and there was a high wind. They passed 
 rapidly into Exchange street now Beaver, east of William 
 and kept on to Pearl. There were few people assemhled, but 
 one of the large dry-goods stores a few doors from Wall was in 
 a blaze. They stopped and watched the tire for a short time, 
 and saw it extend westward towards the Merchants' Exchange. 
 " Count, it is very cold to be standing here. I have the keys 
 of the store, and I am sure good coal fires are burning in both 
 offices if not, we can soon make one. We shall freeze if we 
 stop here," observed Marion. 
 
 The Count agreed to the proposition, and they walked rapidly 
 to the store of Mr. Granville. Sure enough, they found a 
 good coal fire burning, and they lit a couple of caudles and 
 their cigars, and took sea's by the fire. Soiue short time 
 elapsed when they heard an unusual noise in the street, and 
 Marion said he would go and see how the fire was getting on. 
 He had been out but a moment, as it seemed to the Count, 
 when he returned, his face aghast. " Count, several blocks 
 are on fire, and so is the Merchants' Exchange. Why, our 
 store may be in danger ! " said Marion. 
 
 " Nonsense ! To get at us the fire has got to burn a good 
 sized church, and a pretty large grave-yard. However, we 
 had better stay and sec the business over or the fire out. I 
 shall not go to look at it myself, for I am very comfortable 
 her. Suppose j^ou go to Dclmonico's and get some cigars." 
 
 Marion started on his errand, but speedily returned : " Dl- 
 monico's is all on fire ; there is no getting near the place." 
 
 " But there are no bells ringing. It is a fire without much 
 noise," remarked the Count. 
 
 " People have too much to do to save their things. Let's 
 both go and look at the fire," said Marion. 
 
 It was a very remarkable fact that on the occasion of the 
 Great Fire in New York, the city bells rang but for a few 
 moments, and while block after block was being burned, there 
 was a fearful stillness, only interrupted by the roar of the 
 flames The Count and Marion got separated, and Marion 
 wa.s alone watching the progress of the fire. It came down 
 Garden street like a summer whirlwind, and Marion for the 
 first time became fully conscious that the store of Mr. Gran- 
 ville could not escape. He then went to work to get the books 
 of the firm at least to a place of safety. He felt sure that the 
 fire would not cross Broad street. Luckily, a store was open
 
 VIGOR. 209 
 
 on the opposite side, and he was well acquainted with the peo- 
 ple. He carried thither every book and paper that he regarded 
 as of any value. When this was accomplished, he took the 
 portfolio, which contained bills of exchange, notes, stock cer- 
 tificates, and olher papers of value to the amount of half a mil- 
 lion of dollars. This he carried about his person knowing that 
 its loss could never be replaced. No on arrived to aid him. 
 He went once more into the street : the church in the rear of 
 Mr. Granville's store was on fire, and Marion then knew that 
 the store was doomed. By this time the authorities had de- 
 termined to blow up buildings and prevent the fire from 
 spreading in Broad street. A store selected to be blown up 
 was at No. 42 Garden, only opposite the corner store of Mr. 
 Granville. From the opposite side of Broad Marion saw that 
 blown up, and fall in one solid mass of ruins not a brick or 
 stone fell into the street the store rose up and fell on tho 
 ground upon which it was built. 
 
 Shortly afterward the store of Mr. Granville caught, and 
 Marion remained on th-e opposite side of the street and saw it 
 burn and fall a mass of fire ; such was the intense heat that 
 not a brick was left standing. While watching this result, he 
 was startled by hearing some one exclaim, " My God, I am a 
 ruined man !" lie knew the voice. It was Mr. Granville. 
 
 Marion approached him and placed his hand on his shoulder. 
 " It is not so bad as you suppose, Mr. Granville." 
 
 " The portfolio where is the portfolio ?" inquired the mer- 
 chant. 
 
 " I have it, sir, all safe. Here it is," replied Marion. 
 
 " Thank God for that. All the rest may go," was the re- 
 sponse of the merchant. 
 
 Marion then conducted him to the spot where he had placed 
 the books and papers. " Nothing is lost, sir, except the mer- 
 chandise, and that is fully insured." 
 
 " You have done all this yourself?" asked Mr. Granville. 
 
 " Yes, sir. In a time like this aid was impossible to be 
 had," was the modest reply of Marion. 
 
 " I owe you a debt of gratitude, my dear boy, that I cnu 
 never repay. But come, let us get home," said Mr. Granville. 
 
 It was nearly daybreak when they reached State street, but 
 the fire was burning as madly as ever, and did not stop until it 
 had levelled every house between Broad and Wall street to the 
 East river.
 
 210 VIGOR. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 Hiss Norris Rouses the A motion of Thomas Granvillf, Esq. He Goes to 
 Washington General Jackson Appoints Him Consul to a Port in France 
 Returns to Ntw York Brother Advance* Money Renew* Intimacy 
 with Hiss Norris Consul Granville sails for Europe, and Mits Norris 
 Accompanies Him Queer Scenes in England and France The President 
 Removes Tom Granville from his Consulate His Return to America, fol- 
 lowed ui/ Miss Norris, who h'is made Five Thousand Dollars by Her Euro- 
 pean Tour The Ruin and Distress of the Ex-Consul. 
 
 THOMAS GRANVILLE seemed to have lost the esteem not only 
 of those with whom he was connected by relationship, but 
 also of the young woman with whom he had formed a depen- 
 dent connexion. She, too, got sick of Tom, and became 
 anxious to terminate their engagement. She was more anxious 
 to do this, as Tom displayed no energy and no manliness of 
 character. He was contented to remain by the side of Miss 
 Norris at her comfortable quarters from one meal to another. 
 At last she came to the conclusion that she would, for the wel- 
 fare of Tom, rouse him out of his unmanly lethargy at any 
 cost. About the time of the Great Fire she took Tom Granville 
 to task. 
 
 " Is it possible that you expect to be tied to my apron-strings 
 for ever ? Have you no idea of doing anything for yourself] 
 For shame !" she asked. 
 
 Tom replied, " I do not know what I can do. What do you 
 wish me to do ?" 
 
 " Oh, man, man, have you no energy no self-respect left ? 
 Do ? Why, rather than lead such a miserable life as you are 
 leading, Master Tom, I would go and hire myself out as a 
 street sweeper, carry in coal, go from house to house and offer 
 to clear off the snow from the sidewalks, do any thing to earn 
 my bread, were I a man, or, if like you, I pretended to be 
 one," said the handsome Miss Norris. 
 
 Such language was calculated to arouse a new spirit in poor 
 Tom, and it succeeded admirably. 
 
 " Do you wish to get up a quarrel with me ? Is that what 
 you are trying to do ? or do you wish to separate from me ? I 
 can accommodate you in any way," replied Tom, with some 
 spirit.
 
 VIGOR. 211 
 
 " Bravo, bravo, Tom. That is excellent. I have not seen 
 you look so becoming in a ftng while. I will tell you what I 
 want. Be a man ; make yourself respected. God forgive me 
 for ever letting you come here. Do you know that all your 
 friends charge me with leading you astray ? seducing your 'af- 
 fections from a beloved wife ? destroying her peace of mind ? 
 ruining her domestic happiness, and all such sort of stuff, 
 which you, Tom Granville, know is as false as falsehood it- 
 self," continued Miss Norris. * 
 
 9 And who dares say such a thing ? It is not true, and you 
 know it all well as I do. Why, then, should you care what 
 people say falsely ? Tell me who makes those charges against 
 you. Give me names, and if my brother or my wife even have 
 dared to assert such atrocious slanders, I will make them con- 
 tradict them," replied Tom, very bravely. 
 
 " Ah, Tom, if you would only show as much spirit in your 
 actions as you do in your language, I should respect you 
 much more than I do now. I do not want to make enemies, 
 and yet I am making them every day on your account. Your 
 wife has applied for a divorce, and she will succeed in getting 
 it, if you do not mind, Tom," observed Miss Norris. 
 
 " I don't care a straw whether she does or not. What will 
 it matter me ?" inquired Tom. 
 
 " It matters this much, that if she succeeds in getting a di- 
 vorce, it permits her to marry again, while it debars you from 
 that privilege," remarked Miss Norris. 
 
 Tom answered that he did not care for a divorce, that he 
 should never marry again under any circumstance, that he had 
 had quite sufficient of married life, and wished for no more. 
 But he continued, " I see that you wish to get rid of me. Your 
 wishes, Clara, shall be gratified. I will leave you this very 
 day. You shall see me no more." 
 
 " Nay, Tom," continued Miss Norris, with some feeling. " I 
 wish to see you do something. You have cleverness, use it to 
 some purpose, in some way, I care not how. I have no wish 
 to get rid of you, except for your own good." 
 
 " No matter what the motive is, Clara. We won't speak of 
 that. You do wish it, arid it shall be done. But I have a fa- 
 vor to ask. I need some money for a short time. Lend it to 
 me, and I will return it inside of a month. I am man enough 
 for that, at any rate." said Tom. 
 
 Miss Norris went to a little portable desk, opened it, and 
 took out a pocket-book. 
 
 " How much do you want, Tom ?" she asked.
 
 212 VIGOR. 
 
 " Fifty dollars will answer iny purpose," was the reply, and 
 she at ouce handed him that amount. 
 
 " If it is not sufficient, tell me so, and you shall have more," 
 added Clara, as she held out the purse. 
 
 "No. It is quite enough ; and now, Clara, good-bye," said 
 Tom. 
 
 Miss Norria wished to arouse Tom Granville to make some 
 effort to do some thing for himself, but as she saw determina- 
 tion in every lineament of Tom's expressive face, she became 
 fearful that she had overdone the matter. Perhaps Tom was 
 going to jump off the dock, or commit suicide in some other 
 shape. She felt that the melancholy fate of poor Nordheim, 
 her first friend, had been tragedy enough for her lifetime, and 
 she was not anxious to have Tom get killed, or kill himself. 
 So she changed her battery. " Come, Tom, you need not say 
 good-bye ; or if you will do so, give me some reason for it. 
 Tell me where are you going. What are you going to do ? and 
 if it is not an impertinent question, when am I to see your in- 
 dignant lordship again ?" 
 
 Not a smile appeared upon the face of Tom. He was as 
 calm as apparent insensibility could make him. He felt indig- 
 nant, but he had sense, and he had pride, and these told him 
 that Miss Norris was acting right It was a bitter pill to 
 swallow, but he got it down. 
 
 " Clara, I will try and reply to your questions, or I would 
 do so if I could, but I do not really know what I am going to 
 do. I am going to leave New York this very evening, that I 
 have" decided upon firmly. So that my good-bye means some- 
 thing. I shall go to Philadelphia this afternoon. I have 
 friends there. If nothing opens, I shall keep on to Baltimore, 
 where I married my wife, and from thence I may go still farther 
 south. That fa all I can tell you, and once more I say good- 
 bye." 
 
 Tom, as he said this, rose and took his hat, and walked 
 partly to the door. Miss Norris followed him. 
 
 " Tom, I shall not say one word to prevent your going. It 
 is necessary for your own sake. May God grant that you may 
 find some thing to do get into business, or get some position 
 that will be creditable to you and to those connected with you. 
 If you do, perhaps your wife will withdraw her application. 
 Your brother will receive you as a brother again. I wish you 
 well from the bottom of my heart. I am not selfish when I 
 propose our separation. It is for your good," said Clara. 
 
 Tom replied, " So you have said, Clara, and I believe you.
 
 VIGOR. 213 
 
 Ono more cood-bye. You shall hear from me favorably, and T 
 thank you for having roused me from my lazy, unmanly sleep." 
 
 Miss Norris bade him an affectionate farewell, and Tom Gran- 
 ville left the house determined to turn over a new leaf. He 
 did not wait for his resolves, which he felt were good ones, to 
 cool. It was about noon when he left the residence of Miss 
 Norris. He went from there to a quiet eating-house down in 
 Nassau street, and got dinner. That, afternoon he started for 
 Philadelphia, and he did not halt for any time until he had gone 
 as far south as the city of Washington. 
 
 In the chapter where we gave an account of Tom's marrying, 
 we mentioned the conduct of General Jackson in after years, 
 when Thomas Granville came to him in distress and in trou- 
 ble. It was the present trip to which we then alluded. Pres- 
 ident Jackson took the matter in his own hands, and sent the 
 name of Thomas Granville to the Senate for confirmation as 
 Consul to one of the principal cities of France. He furnished 
 Tom Granville with funds to proceed immediately to New 
 York. Tom was delayed in Baltimore for a few days. Before 
 he reached New York, his appointment and confirmation had 
 been published in all the New York papers. It took all his 
 acquaintances by surprise. " Ah, that brother of mine. He 
 will never be taken alive," exclaimed Pitt Granville, who had 
 a great admiration of official people, and his brother was now 
 one, thanks to General Jackson's friendship. No sooner did 
 Thomas Granville reach New York, than he proceeded to his 
 brother's office. W. Pitt Granville received him kindly, and 
 conducted him into the inner office. Before Tom left, Gran- 
 ville had promised to let him have all the money he needed for 
 an outfit, and wait for it when Tom Granville should have 
 reached France, and began to pocket the emoluments of the 
 Consulate. It is needless to say that the mere fact of his 
 brother's getting so honorable an appointment abroad was very 
 gratifying to the senior Granville. A thousand or two thou- 
 sand dollars to send out his brother to France, was nothing, in 
 comparison to the gratification of his own feelings, even if Tom 
 had never remitted back a cent. 
 
 No sooner had Tom received money from his brother, than 
 he at once went to a hotel. There he sat down and wrote a 
 grateful letter to General Jackson, and inclosed the thirty dol- 
 lars the President had loaned him. 
 
 " Your act, General, has made me ascertain that I have more 
 friends than I dreamed of. As you foretold, I have any quan- 
 tity of friends since my appointment became public. I had no
 
 VIGOR. 
 
 difficulty in raising money, and have sufficient not only to re- 
 turn you the thirty dollars which you were so good as to make 
 me take at Washington, but enough left to procure me a hand- 
 some outfit and pay my expense to the port where I am ap- 
 pointed." 
 
 General Jackson was much gratified with the letter of Tho- 
 mas Granville, and wrote him in reply a short but expressive 
 letter, urging him to leave New York at the earliest moment, 
 and giving him some good advice as to his conduct while iu 
 office. 
 
 Thomas Granville, after he had dispatched his letter to the 
 President, found his way up to Broome street. Miss Norris 
 was in ecstacies at his success. " I knew it was in your line, 
 if you only exerted yourself." She then inquired what the 
 income would be, and into various other matters. Tom said 
 he should engage passage to Liverpool, and from thence go to 
 Birmingham, Manchester, Leeds, and other places in England 
 where he had relations and connexions. 
 
 " You know my wife has some very aristocratic connexions 
 
 in London. One of her great aunts is the Duchess of Leeds, 
 
 another is the Marchioness of Carmarthen. They were both 
 
 Baltimore girls, and married well," said Tom. 
 
 " They know all about your wife, of course ?" inquired Clara. 
 
 " Certainly. They know of our marriage, and both ladies 
 wrote on letters congratulating us at the time the unfortunate 
 affair came off," said Tom. 
 
 " Probably they have heard of your separation from your 
 wife ?" inquired Clara, anxiously. 
 
 " Not a syllable. You may bet your life that I have never 
 uttered a word about it to those grand dames. Nothing has 
 been said about it in the papers or in any public manner, and 
 I am quite sure that my wife and her relations are too cur- 
 sedly mortified about the affair to have written such unpleasant 
 news," said Tom Granville. 
 
 " Thomas Granville," repeated Miss Norris, coming close to 
 him, laying her hands upon his shoulder, and looking him full 
 in the face, " Tom," she continued, " you have said that you 
 loved me. Did you mean it, when you used to say it ?" 
 
 " Upon my soul I did, Clara ; I do love you," answered Tom 
 Granville, returning her look. 
 
 The lady did not alter her position. " Thomas, will you 
 prove it ? Will you take me with you to France ?" 
 
 " You, Clara ! You 1 But will you go ? No, no ! I were 
 mad to think of such a thing. It would d n all icy prospects
 
 VIGOR. 215 
 
 forever. Great God, what a regular row it would kick up ! 
 No, Clara, it would not do. It wouldn't pay. What would 
 Granville say ?" 
 
 " Listen to me, Tom Granville. Your brother, the Presi- 
 dent, none of your friends need to know any thing of the mat- 
 ter. You go to work, get your outfit uniform, letters, com- 
 mission, letters of introduction. Engage passage, and do every 
 thing that you have got to do, as though I were not going. I 
 will secure my passage in the same ship, but under another 
 name. When we reach Liverpool, we can then travel toge- 
 ther, and then what a chance of your paying off your wife old 
 scores ! Take me as your wife introduce me to the haughty 
 dames who are her connexions, and see what glorious times we 
 shall have. After leaving England, I can go with you to Paris 
 then follow you to your post take a little cottage in the 
 suburbs of the city. Tom, it will be so nice so quiet, and 
 we can be so happy," said Miss Norris. 
 
 Ah, Tom Granville, where was your better angel when this 
 artful syren was pouring such ideas into your confused brain ? 
 Consul Granville agreed to the entire programme as marked 
 out by the artful Clara, and it was eventually carried out in all 
 its details. Clara sold off all her furniture and everything of 
 value, and placed the money in the Sussex Bank. She went 
 up and bade her parents good-bye. 
 
 When the day for sailing came, Thomas Granville had an 
 abundance of friends to see him off. His brother Pitt Gran- 
 ville and a large party went on board the ship, and came up in 
 the steamboat. Little did any one dream that Miss Norris 
 was on board, under an assumed name. Yet so it was, and the 
 ship left the hook with a fair breeze for her destination. 
 
 It is not in our power to give an account of all that befell 
 Thomas Granville during the period he was absent from the 
 United States. He reached England, and so did Miss Norris. 
 She travelled with him far and wide as his wife. His family 
 received her as such, and the haughty relations, the two per- 
 sons to whom we have alluded, made much of their American 
 rela^ons. Tom and his supposed wife were feted in the most 
 sumptuous manner. The relatives of Mrs. Tom Granville 
 were very much delighted with their relation, as represented 
 by Miss Norris. But at last her intrigues became noticed, 
 and Tom hurried her over to Paris. There they became worse, 
 and although she kept a purse separate from Tom, before he 
 had resided at his post a year she had coined money iu abun- 
 dance, while he was imDoverishcd. She left him for London,
 
 216 VIGOR. 
 
 and there her position enabled her to carry on several liasons, 
 that brought her in enormous sums of money. She played a 
 high game, and she won. Ere a year elapsed, she was back 
 again in New York. She had been missed, but no one kuew 
 where she had gone. 
 
 There came letters to the Pinckney family in Baltimore from 
 the English princesses. They had met Mrs. Tom Granville, 
 and were delighted with her. This produced an explosion, 
 but who was playing so impudent a part became the next ques- 
 tion. Pitt Granville's relations also wrote to him about Mrs. 
 Tom Granville. An explanation followed. The American 
 minister in Paris wrote the President all about it. Tom Gran- 
 ville was recalled or removed just one year from the day he 
 left New York. Miss Norris preceded him only a month. But 
 she had a great lark, with lots of fun and fmlic. She had 
 moved in the highest circles in England and France. She had 
 travelled all over the continent, and practiced the languages 
 she had learned from the Count Falsechinski, and made her- 
 self perfect in all of them. During her sojourn in England, 
 and while upon the continent of Europe, she never forgot for 
 a single moment one purpose. As we have before stated, she 
 was engaged in intrigues constantly, but they were not of a low 
 character. She passed along as the beautiful and gifted wife 
 of an American official, and she took care that under that as- 
 sumed position, all those nobles and gallants who followed in 
 her train, or who succeeded in their designs, were men that 
 had an unlimited control of money. The costly jewelry and 
 presents which she received were enormous. She carried over 
 from London to Paris a sum equivalent to twenty-five hundred 
 dollars in cash, and she had not been in Paris a week before 
 she opened a bank account with the American Banking House 
 of Welles & Co., and before the expiration of another week 
 she purchased from that house a bill on New York for twenty- 
 two hundred dollars. This she remitted to her lawyer in New 
 Jersey, with directions to pay off the mortgage of two thousand 
 dollars and the interest and other expenses. Then she com- 
 menced flirtation in Paris, until she made her supposed^ hus- 
 band, Consul Granville, the laughing stock of all his friends in 
 Paris. She then formed an intimacy with a Russian nobleman 
 of unbounded wealth, and under his protection visited the prin- 
 cipal capitals of Europe. She wheedled her Russian admirer 
 out of a large sum. Soon after her return to Paris she gave 
 him the slip, converted all her funds into a good draft on New 
 York, went down to Havre, and took passage in the ship Erie.
 
 VIGOR. 217 
 
 On her arrival she passed from the ship to New Jersey, and at 
 Newton deposited her money in the Bank. She stayed but a 
 few weeks with her parents. The mortgage 'of two thousand 
 dollars had been paid off, and she was the owner of a fine farm. 
 Her father was a sober, industrious man. Her brother and 
 sister she sent to a neighboring town to school. These duties 
 accomplished, she soon after started for New York. Here she 
 found Tom Granville, irretrievably ruined and disgraced. His 
 brother Pitt Granville had had his feelings outraged, and he 
 would no louger recognize Tom as a brother. 
 
 Poor Tom. He managed to get the address of Clara Norris, 
 who had become more beautiful and more accomplished, but at 
 the same time more heartless than ever. She gave him a few 
 dollars, and at the same time announced to him that all inti- 
 macy was at an end, except she should be pleased to have him 
 call upon her occasionally. She was residing with Mrs. Wood- 
 ruff, in Bond Street. Thomas Grauville asked her if she in- 
 tended to keep him in money any longer ? 
 
 " Xo Tom not again. I am going to lead a life after my 
 own fancy. I shall be in this house but a few days, and then I 
 am going to follow the bent of my own inclinations. I hope 
 you are satisfied ?" she asked, in a cruel manner. 
 
 This was all the information Tom could get, except she pro- 
 mised that when she got settled, she would write a note to him, 
 and she told him not to call ayain at Mrs. Woodruff's, but that 
 if he wished to see or communicate with her, to send a letter 
 addressed to her, care of Mrs. Woodruff ; and he then took his 
 leave. 
 
 We have digressed in this chapter, and brought the doings 
 of the two principal characters in the chapter in advance of the 
 period of our main narrative. We return to that in another 
 chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 D f /ruction q/" Prop rty hij tie Gnat Fire Its amount Mr. Granville a 
 k <iry Sufferer Mr Wilson kcotiie.i a Partner -The new House o/" Airs. 
 Sordh'im Marion Monrlc a Visitor An intei eating Courtship The 
 Widow A'ordkeini tnanits Rcha^d \Yil.on. 
 
 THE great fire in New York was a terrific blow to its com- 
 mercial prosperity, although it was not sensibly felt at the 
 moment or for sjine mouths subsequent. Millions of property 
 were destroyed in one night. Almost every fire insurance 
 
 10
 
 218 VIGOR. 
 
 company was irretrievably ruined, and the merchant whose 
 goods were fully insured, soon found that the companies where 
 he had insured would not pay ten cents upon the dollar. The 
 loss of Mr. Granville was very heavy. His warehouse in Broad 
 street was filled with valuable merchandise, and he had ano- 
 ther large store in the burnt district with an amount of almost 
 equal value. He felt this loss very acutely. Had the fire 
 occurred a few weeks later, it would have found Mr. Wilson a 
 partner, and also a severe sufferer. The arrangement of hav- 
 ing Mr. Wilson come into the firm, with a considerable cash 
 capital, was now a matter of extensive moment to Mr. Granville. 
 He stated frankly to the former that his losses were very 
 heavy, and added, " I shall not insist upon your complying 
 with the agreement we had concluded, unless you are perfectly 
 satisfied that my losses have in no way impaired my solvency." 
 
 Mr. Wilson advised fully with Mrs. Nordheim, and then in- 
 formed Mr. Granville that he should become a partner accord- 
 ing to agreement, on the approaching first of January. Whea 
 that day came, the announcements were made in the duily 
 journals, and the firm was changed to " Granville & Wilson." 
 
 Mr. Wilson had resided some time with Mrs Nordheim be- 
 fore he discovered a suitable house. He did find one, how- 
 ever, for sale, and it was purchased, and Mrs. Nordheim gave 
 up her house in Bond street, and moved into her own resi- 
 dence, it was a three story house, not in a fashionable part 
 of the town, but in a street running from the west end of the 
 Military Parade Ground, now known as Washington Square. 
 Shortly after their removal Mr. Wilson invited Marion Monck 
 to call upon them He did so, and was pleasantly scolded by 
 Mrs. Nordheim for his long absence ; and she pleasantly in- 
 quired after the health of his fascinating friend, Miss Isabella 
 Granville. This was a sore subject to Marion, and he skillfully 
 avoided it by saying that he saw so little of Isabella that he 
 did not really know whether she was well or ill. Mrs. Nord- 
 beim then inquired particularly about old friends and acquain- 
 tances, the Count Falsechinski, Thomas Granville and Miss 
 Norris. Marion told her that Tom had received a foreign ap- 
 pointment, and of Miss Norris he knew nothing. He congra- 
 tulated Mrs. Nordheim upon her new residence, and with a, 
 promise to call often, took his leave. After he was gone, the 
 beautiful widow sat and mused for a long time. 
 
 " What curious beings we are ! There is that lad, Marion 
 I thought I loved him. Perhaps I did so why, I cannot tell 
 myself. Now I would no more think of making him my hus-
 
 VIGOR. 219 
 
 band, than I would of marrying a child. I want some one that 
 I can lean upon some one that I can trust. This youth is as 
 changeable and unstable as water. Had I not discovered that 
 he loved Isabella Granville well, it is all for the best, and I 
 am fortunate in getting rid of niy attachment, or what I thought 
 was such, so easily ;'' and here the lady drew a long sigh. At 
 this moment Mr. Wilson entered the sitting-room. 
 
 " Good evening, my old* friend. I have had a visitor. I 
 wish you could have arrived a little sooner. You would have 
 seen how perfectly calm I received a visit from Marion Monck. 
 Pshaw ! what dupes we are to our own imaginings ! I really 
 fancied that I had a strong regard for that youth. I find Ire is 
 no more to pie than a hundred others," said the widow Nord- 
 heim. 
 
 -" I am very happy that you are able to meet him w'th such 
 composure. I feared it would be otherwise. But you have a 
 brave heart," replied Mr. \Vilson. 
 
 "And a good one, too, I hope. Have you just left the 
 office ?" 
 
 " About half an hour ago. All was going on well in that 
 quarter. Mr. Granville bus been terribly scared, and is a 
 much more sociable sort of partner than I ever thought he 
 would make. He consults or advises with me in reference to 
 every matter of importance. Such a change in the tenor of 
 any one man's life I have never heard of. From the neglected 
 bookkeeper I am become a prominent merchant, and treated 
 with the utmost respect by all with whom I come in contact. 
 It is you, dear lady, that has done all this, and how can I ever 
 repay you ?'' demanded Mr. Wilson. " But one thing you 
 shall know I fear that my residence with you exposes me to- 
 be talked about, and 1 would rather go and live somewhere 
 else on your account, lady, not on mine," continued honest 
 Wilson. 
 
 " Who dare talk about me, Mr. Wilson, or what can any one 
 say in reference to ray conduct ? Surely I am doing no harm," 
 said the widow, with great spirit. 
 
 " 1 ought not to have said anything about it to worry you, 
 but I could not help it. People joke me. Even Mr. Gran- 
 ville said with a sneer this morning, that as you had behaved 
 very kind to me, that I ought to be very careful of your repu- 
 tation, and that I ought not to reside iu the house wiih you," 
 stammered out poor Wilson. 
 
 " I begin to think they are all right, Mr. Wilson. It is curi- 
 ous. It must appear singular that a merchant who has been a
 
 220 VIGOR. 
 
 clerk should reside alone in the house of one of his late em- 
 plojers. It must be remedied, Mr. Wilson we must give no 
 occasion to people to make severe remarks, or to talk scandal 
 about us. What can bo done, Mr. Wilson ? You are older 
 and wiser than me, and I look to you for correct advice. You 
 are twice my own age. I am but a little girl in years," said 
 the lively widow. 
 
 Mr. Wilson reflected a moment before he attempted to make 
 any reply. Then he answered quietly, " Although it may put 
 you to some inconvenience, yet I think it would be better that 
 I should move back to my old quarters at Clarke & Brown's in 
 Maiden Lane. 1 could come up here every day. Then I am 
 sure the world could see no impropriety in you." 
 
 " That is your candid opinion, is if, Mr. Wilson ? Now it is 
 not mine. I have a better plan, and not half so troublesome. 
 Come and sit down by me on the sofa, and I will tell you what 
 my plan is," said the widow. 
 
 Mr. Wilson seated himself as requested. She reached her 
 hand out and gently took hold of his, and contiuued : " I have 
 told you that I needed a protector. Suppose, Mr. Wilson, I 
 could find a nice, amiable, kind-hearted, middle-aged man, who 
 would be willing to marry me. What would you think of that 
 plan ?" 
 
 Poor Wilson was aghast. " Really, Mrs. Nordheim, I 
 yes, perhaps it would be best. But could you love such a man 
 as you describe ? He must be a wretch if he did not love you 
 and make you happy. It would be better. I know you have 
 selected the man, or you would not talk so decidedly. Do I 
 know him ? You must confide in me, and tell me his name. I 
 will then tell you honestly what I think of him." 
 
 Poor Wilson had made* a terrible long speech, but it was an 
 honest one. He was much too humble in his own eyes to 
 dream for a moment of the real person that the widow had in 
 view, and he was fearful that it was Colonel Mac Neil, or per- 
 haps the Count Falsechinski. Had a thunderbolt fallen at his 
 feet, he could not have been more startled than when Mrs. 
 Nordheim replied, 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Wilson, it IA right and proper that I should tell 
 you the name of the man I intend to ask to become my hus- 
 band. It is Richard Wilson," said the widow firmly. 
 
 " Me !" he exclaimed. " My God ! can you be in earnest, 
 or is this a dream ? This is too much honor, too much happi- 
 ness for a poor old devil like me." 
 
 " It is you, Mr. Wilson that is if you will have me. I will
 
 VIGOR. 221 
 
 try and be a good, loving wife. I will try to make you hap- 
 py ;" and she gazed fondly into his face with those clear, beau- 
 tiful eyes, as she said this. 
 
 " Mrs. Nordheim !" was all Wilson could say. 
 
 " Don't call nie Mrs. Nordheim call me Bessy ; for you 
 shall have that right, and no one living but you." 
 
 " I really don't know what to say. I do love you. If you 
 wish it I will marry you but it is not right. You are very 
 young gifted, beautiful, rich, and can marry any one you 
 choose the very pick of the land ; and I am a poor old fel- 
 low, double your age, and old enough to.be your father. Don't 
 think of it don't make such a sacrifice !" earnestly exclaimed 
 Wilson. 
 
 " It is no sacrifice at all, Mr. Wilson. If you are old enough 
 to be my father, then you can act father as well as husband, 
 and I will be a dutiful daughter as well as wife. It shall be 
 so, unless you refuse me altogether," she said smilingly. 
 
 " () no, dear Bessy ! I would die for you, and would be as 
 devoted to your interest if you had selected some one else ; 
 but if you will marry me, why you will make me the happiest 
 man alive," said Mr. Wilson. 
 
 " Then, my dear Richard, you are satisfied. So am I. Let 
 our marriage be as soon as you please. We will have no fuss 
 or noise. Send for a clergyman and witnesses to-morrow 
 next week or any time you choose : we will be married, and 
 then all the notice that we will give about it to our dear friends 
 will be when they will see the announcement in the papers. 
 Are you satisfied, Richard ]" 
 
 Poor Dick Wilson was overcome. He seized the fair widow, 
 and pressed her to his mauly bosom as though he would never 
 release her. Then he kissed her rosy lips, but she offered no 
 resistance to either demonstration, but returned his caresses 
 fondly but gently. 
 
 " Bessy, I am forty years old !" he exclaimed. 
 
 " Richard, I am twenty-two years old >" and she laughed 
 heartily. " I would not have you a year younger for anything. 
 I respect, esteem, trust you ; and, dear Richard, don't feur 
 but that I shall learn to love you as fondly as if you were ouly 
 twenty. I need one that I can rely upon in my love, and you 
 are that one ; and I shall give you all the wealth that I possess 
 of worldly goods, but I shall give you what you will value 
 more all the wealth of the most devoted affection," said the 
 widow. 
 
 Wilson embraced her again and again. His heart was too
 
 222 VIGOR. 
 
 full to speak, but he murmured, " Dear lady, you shall never 
 regret your choice." 
 
 " I don't believe I ever shall, Richard. I will trust you 
 with my future happiness without a doubt. Now let us talk 
 quietly over the future." 
 
 They did so, until a late hour. Mr. Wilson urged delay in 
 ;the marriage. He was anxious that she should have time to 
 think it over. Perhaps she would change her mind. The 
 lady was resolved. 
 
 A few days elapsed after the conversation, and then Richard 
 Wilson and Elizabeth Nordheim went together in a carriage, 
 one beautiful morning, to the residence of the Rev. Dr. Milnor, 
 in Beekman street. There they met Mr. Pitt Granville, Mrs. 
 Tom and Isabella. Marion had not been invited. Mr. Wilsi n 
 had two friends there. These parties were witnesses, and the 
 venerable clergyman performed the ceremony of marriage. 
 From the clergy man's residence the small bridal party drove 
 directly to the house of Mr Wilson. A table had been spread 
 with refreshments, and all partook of them. Mr. Granville 
 then began to make excuses, and said he must go to the office. 
 
 " Take Mr. Wilson with you. Mr. Granville. I do not want 
 him to vary his usual habits. He has not been absent from his 
 post for years, and I do not want to kill him on our marriage 
 day by making him give up one of his old habits," said the fair 
 bride. 
 
 A laugh was the consequence of this playful sally, and Mr. 
 Wilson, after kissing iiis wife, joined Mr. Granville and went 
 to the office. 
 
 The rest of the bridal party took leave of the bride, and she 
 was left alone. " Poor dear Wilson !" she murmured, " how 
 perfectly astonished he appears to be. I dare say he thinks 
 it all a dream. Never mind it shall be a happy dream, and 
 I will begin by making him completely at his ease, and act as 
 though nothing remarkable had happened. What a lucky 
 thought to send him down to the store ! How delighted he 
 was to get off! I do love him. But now for dinner. I must 
 begin to see about tha*. for he will be back here to dinner as 
 punctual as the clock." 
 
 Thus commenced the wedded life of Mr. and Mrs. Wilson.
 
 VIGOR. 223 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 The Marriage of Mrs. Kordhiim opens the eyes of Mr. MonckHe Condoles 
 with the Count Falsechinski Ilr. walks upon ths Battery with Isabella 
 Granville A very funny Love Di loguf Appeals to Mr. Granville for his 
 Consent to mirry Isabella T/it latter denies loving Marion Mr. Gran- 
 ville sends Mr<. Tom Grfinvdl* to Maryland Discharges Marion Monck 
 from his ting/ay Tu nx hm out of his huttse S-ndsfor Colonel Benson 
 Mirriage of you g Btnsoii to Is^b.lla (fianville. 
 
 WHE<N Mr. Granville, accompanied by Mr. Wilson, reached 
 the counting-room, (which was now 1 seated, after the fire, lower 
 down Broad street, on the opposite side to where the old store 
 stood) he announced to the Count Falsechinski and to Marion 
 Monck and the other clerks, the event that had occurred that 
 morning. All immediately pressed around the new married 
 man, and offered him their sincere congratulations and good 
 wishes. None were more sincere than the Count. Marion, 
 without exactly knowing why, ivas embarrassed. He felt hurt 
 that he had not been asked to the wedding. He was not con- 
 scious of feeling deeper upon the subject than this. In the 
 course of the day he found himself alone with the Count, and 
 he remarked to him, " Count, don't you think it very queer 
 that Mrs. Nordheim, let alone Wilson, did not invite me to the 
 wedding T' 
 
 " Marion," replied the Count, " allow me to say that I can- 
 didly think you are a perfect ninny a blind male mole an 
 ignoramus a jackass and if I knew any other term to express 
 the most consummate stupidity, I would apply it to you." 
 
 Marion sprung ofi'his office stool. 
 
 " Count, what do you mean ? Do you wish to insult me ?'' 
 
 " Not at all, my dear boy ; but you are so queer, so ex- 
 tremely so, that I cannot put up with you any longer. Invite 
 you ? That, would have been cool. No, no, my dear child : 
 you were not wanted at that wedding. Marion, while yot : 
 were making an infernal fool of yourself, and falling in lov; 
 with that silly fool, Isabella Granville, Mrs. Bessy Nordheiut 
 was deeply attached to you. Mrs. Tom Granville went up and 
 told Mrs. Nordheim that you were engaged to her niece. Mrs.
 
 224 VIGOR. 
 
 Nordheim sent you away from her house that day, for it was 
 only on being told that you loved another, that the lovely lady 
 discovered the nature of her feelings to you. 'She acted 
 wisely, and got rid of you, determined to forget you. She is 
 an affectionate disposition. She found sympathy in Wilson. 
 He is a devilish good fellow. She wanted some body that she 
 could love and respect at the same time. She put Wilson in 
 business took him to her home, and to-day she has married 
 him. She has done well, and mark my words, there will not 
 be a happier married couple in New York than t\\vse two. I 
 know them both. 'Now, are you not an idiot ? Such chances 
 and you let them slip ! Now get rid of that other affair. Get 
 off with Miss Isabella, as I advised you the night of the fire, or 
 you will regret that, for the moment Mr. Granville suspects 
 that, he will start you out of his house and out of his employ. 
 The girl is a heartless coquette, arid she would not cross the 
 street to pick you out of the gutter, if you. happened to fall into 
 it. What ! not a word in reply ?" demanded the Count. 
 
 " No, Count ; I have nothing to say. I see through it all 
 now. My eyes are opened. Why did you not tell ue about 
 Mrs. Nordheim before ?" asked Marion. 
 
 " I tell you ! That is cool. Why, my dear boy, it would 
 have done no good. Salt could not have saved you. The mo- 
 ment Kate Granville informed Mrs. Nordheim about your affair 
 with Isabella, your cake was dough. A woman that loves, 
 when she hears that the one she loves is also in love with 
 another woman. Uah. It is no use talking thus. The affair 
 is all over ; but cheer up, man, the world has not come to an 
 end, and although Mrs. Nordheim has become Mrs. Wilson, and 
 Miss Granville will shortly become Mrs. Benson, yet there is 
 still as good fish in the sea as ever were caught, and will be 
 many more by the time you are thirty years old, and if you 
 think of getting married before that period of your age, you 
 are perfectly insane," exclaimed the Count. 
 
 Marion was in no humor to combat the Count's remarks. IIo 
 felt convinced, and wanted time to think. He only .replied 
 with a few words. 
 
 " Count, if I do not say much, it is because I feel just as 
 though I should like to go and stretch myself. That will do 
 me good. I am going to walk for an hour with a gentleman on 
 the Battery. Not a very agreeable companion at this moment. 
 It is myself." 
 
 " Go along, my boy ; and whatever may chance to turn up,
 
 VIGOR. "225 
 
 do not forgot that Adolph Falsechinski is your friend," cheer- 
 ingly said the Count. 
 
 Marion sauntered down to the Battery, and he had not 
 walked there many minutes before he was joined by Isabella 
 Granville. 
 
 " Why, Isabella, I thought you were tip at the wedding 
 which came off this morning," said Marion. 
 
 ''So I was, dear Marion ; but I have been back some time. 
 I saw you on the Battery, and I ventured to come and take a 
 walk with you. Was Pa at the store when you came away V 
 she asked. 
 
 " He was," replied Marion ; " and I have no reason to sup- 
 pose he will leave there until late." 
 
 " A curious wedding this morning. Were you not sur- 
 prised at it, Marion ? and how did it happen that you were not 
 present ?" she asked. 
 
 " I was not invited. In fact, I knew nothing about it." 
 
 " Were you not surprised at it '(" asked Isabella. 
 
 " Nothing surprises me now. I should not be surprised 
 were you to get married to some person that I never heard of 
 before," said Marion. 
 
 " You appear quite vexed this morning. I hope you are not 
 angry with me," softly whispered the young lady. 
 
 " No, Isabella ; not with you. I am vexed with myself. I 
 could tell you a very singular story, if I chose to do so. Isa- 
 bella, you know that Mrs. Nordheirn was once a friend of mine 
 a warm friend." 
 
 " T very much suspect, Marion, that she was once very much 
 in love with you," replied Isabella. 
 
 " She certainly treated me with kindness until the day your 
 Aunt Kate went up to her house, and under pretence of con- 
 sulting with her, contrived to let her into our secrets, and told 
 her that you and me were engaged. That night, Isabella, Mrs. 
 Nordheim gave me a hint to go no not a hint ; she told me 
 she wished me to leave her house as speedily as possible. I 
 did so, and since then she has exhibited no kindness to me. 
 On the contrary, not inviting me to her wedding this morning, 
 was in perfect keeping with her other acts," said Marion. 
 
 " And poor me is the cause of this ill-treatment, which you 
 seem to take so much at heart. What need you care for Mrs. 
 Nordheim, or for Mrs. Wilson as she now is 1 She can be 
 nothing more to you," said Isabella. 
 
 " Indeed she cannot be. But say no more of her, but let us 
 
 10*
 
 226 ' VIGOR. 
 
 speak of our own future. You love me, Isabella, do you not ?" 
 asked Marion.- 
 
 " How can you doubt it, dear Marion ? I have told you so a 
 hundred times," replied Isabella. 
 
 " I did a very wrong thing, Isabella, when I consented to be 
 engaged to you, to agree not to mention it to your father. I 
 have felt mean ever since. I have lost my own manliness of 
 character. I wish, dearest Isabella, you would tell me this 
 morning, ' Go to my father. Tell him all, and when he asks 
 me if I love you, I will say yes, and leave the consequence to 
 Providence. We shall both feel easier. We shall have done 
 right, and our minds will be relieved.' What do you say, Isa- 
 bella 1 Say yes," said Marion. 
 
 The fair, but treacherous young coquette held down her 
 head, and walked some distance before she opened her lips. 
 Then it was to say, " But, Marion, it is perfectly useless. Pa 
 would dismiss you from the store and from the house." 
 
 " But," pleaded Marion, " I could bear that even, provided 
 you assure me solemnly that you will still be constant and true, 
 and continue to love me until I am in a different situation, and 
 that if the worst comes to the worst, that if your father cannot 
 be persuaded to give his consent to our marrying, that you 
 will be mine without his consent. Assure me of this, and ere 
 I sleep to-night, your father shall know all," said Marion. 
 
 " You will do nothing of the kind if you really love me, as 
 you say you do. Pa would kill me outright. He made me 
 consent to marry Middleton Benson, although you know I per- 
 fectly detest that young man. But what could I do ? Don't 
 stare at me in that furious manner ; you quite frighten me," 
 exclaimed poor Isabella. 
 
 Marion had stopped suddenly in his walk when Isabella 
 made this queer statement, and gazed fixedly into her facr>. At 
 last he spoke, and it was with such concentrated bitterness 
 that die young lady began to weep. 
 
 " Isabel, how deeply, devotedly I have loved you, God alone 
 knows ; but what are you 1 A. trifling, silly, noncensical dull 
 baby, or are you a young girl of principle, character and firm- 
 ness ? Tell me at once, and truly,, all the facts you have hint- 
 ed at. Has young Benson offered his hand to you, and when ?" 
 
 " Oh, some days ago. Pa told me he would do so, and that 
 he and old Colonel Benson had arranged it all. What could I 
 do ? The young man called. He told me he loved me and all 
 that sort of thing, and asked me if I would marry him," re- 
 plied poor Isabel, crying.
 
 VIGOR. 227 
 
 " And you, Isabel," exclaimed Marion in tones somewhat 
 agitated and rather sternly " what did you reply ?" 
 
 He took her hand in Ms, and led her to one of the benches. 
 " I am very calm, Isa. Sit down quietly now, and tell me all 
 about it. Of course you appealed to his honor you told him 
 that you had long loved me that we were engaged, and 
 and " said Marion. 
 
 " No, I did not do any thing of the sort," said Isabel. 
 
 " What did you say then when he asked you if you would 
 marry him ?" nervously inquired Marion. 
 
 ' Why, I had to tell him yes, of course what else could I 
 say ?" pleaded Isabella. 
 
 Marion dropped the pretty little hand which he had held in 
 his, and in the most indignant manner addressed the poor 
 silly girl 
 
 " I am ashamed that I should ever have lost my heart to 
 you. You profess to love me, and say yes to a proposal of 
 marriage from another ! Oh Isabel, had any one else told me 
 this of you, I would have crammed the words down his throat. 
 Do you love that young man ?" asked Marion calmly. 
 
 " No, I don't," was the reply of Miss Granville. 
 
 " And yet you agree to marry him when he asks you !" 
 
 " I had to do it," said Isabella. 
 
 " And do you intend to marry him ?" asked Marion. 
 
 " I suppose so : what else can I do ?" replied Isabella. 
 
 " Do you mean, dear Isabel, that you would do ajiy thing 
 else to avoid this proposed marriage ?" 
 
 " Yes, I will. I don't like young Benson, and I do love 
 you," was her reply. 
 
 " Then, Isabel, let us walk up to the Bowling Green. There 
 are cairiages always standing there. We will enter one of 
 them, and proceed to the same clergyman's residence who mar- 
 ried Mrs. Nordheim this morning. He will marry us. As soon 
 as the ceremony is performed 1 will go and tell the whole to 
 your father; he will forgive us. Only reflect how gratefully 
 he has expressed himself at my saving his portfolio and books 
 from the fire. Come, Isabel, say you will consent, and I w'ill 
 make you the happiest little wife that ever drew breath," and 
 again the little hand was clasped in hers, and he seated him- 
 self at her side. 
 
 " Why, Marion, what are you thinking of ! I would not go 
 in this dress, and if I was to go home and change it, Aunt 
 Kate would smell a rat, and then there would be such a to-do. 
 Oh no, don't think of it any more," said Isabel.
 
 228 VIGOR. 
 
 " Really, Isabel, you would tire out the patience of a saint. 
 The dress is nothing ; if you love me you will marry me, and 
 then all will be soon settled. Your father will consent. But 
 if you will not go now, will you make your arrangements, and 
 run away with ine the first good chance you get say this eve- 
 ning ?" earnestly demanded Marion. 
 
 " I can't this evening. I am going to a party at Colonel 
 Benson's, and I would not miss going there for all the world. 
 Why need we go and get married ? Pa will kill us both if we 
 do. Let him have his own way. It will be a great deal bet- 
 ter," replied Isabel Granville. 
 
 " Isabel, is this trifling upon so serious a subject right ? 
 Say that you will not marry me, and then I shall know what to 
 do,'' said Marion. 
 
 " I will marry you that is, I like you better than that stu- 
 pid Benson, if Pa will consent ; but there it is again, he will 
 not consent, and what can I do ?" observed Isabella. 
 
 " If your father was to ask you, Isabel, if you loved me, 
 what would you say, Daisy?" 
 
 " If Pp appeared to be angry when he asked me, I should 
 say ' No.' If he appeared pleased I would say / Yes.' It 
 would depend altogether upon circumstances. What else 
 could I do ?" replied the fair girl. 
 
 " My poor Isabel, I pity you from the bottom of my heart, 
 but I will not be in suspense longer. I will know my fate 
 to-night. Come, let us walk towards the house. Take my 
 arm," said the angry young man. 
 
 They walked to the house, and Marion bade the young lady 
 good-bye. From the house he went directly to the office. Mr. 
 Wilson had gone home and Mr. Granville was alone in his pri- 
 vate office. When Marion entered the counting-room, the 
 Count looked at him for a moment, and observed in a low tone, 
 
 " Marion, what is the matter ? You seem to be very ner- 
 vous and excited, Don't-be rash, whatever you do." 
 
 Marion was in no humor to be pacified. At that moment it 
 appeared to him as though the world had but one object. His 
 marriage with Isabella Granville, his clerkship, his property, 
 all were forgotten. He stepped hastily into Mr. Granville's 
 private office. The old merchant raised his eyes from the 
 letter he was writing, and without laying down his pen, asked 
 mildly, 
 
 " Any thing particular, Marion ?" 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Granville, it is very particular. I regret that I
 
 VIGOR. 229 
 
 have not told you before. I will tell you now, if you -will 
 listen to me." 
 
 The merchant quietly laid down his pen and listened to a 
 narrative which seemed to paralyze him for a moment. Marion 
 informed him of his long attachment their engagement of 
 Isabel's anxiety to conceal it of her repentance in reference 
 to her promise to marry Benson, and concluded with inform- 
 ing Mr. Granville that he was satisfied that Isabel loved him, 
 and that she would boldly declare it if he would not scare his 
 daughter when he asked her the question. Mr. Granville did 
 not interrupt the narrative except when in the relating of it 
 Marion mentioned the name of Airs. Tom Granville. He then 
 simply inquired the extent of her knowledge of what was 
 passing. It was too late for Marion to equivocate or excuse 
 any one. He told the truth. 
 
 " Wait for a moment here," Mr. Granville coldly remarked, 
 and then went to the cashier and received from him a roll of 
 money. " Now, Mr. Monck, will you go with me ?" politely 
 asked Mr. Granville. 
 
 " Certainly, sir," answered Marion. 
 
 There was not another word spoken until both were inside 
 Mr. Granville's house. The parlor was empty. He rang the 
 bell. The servant answered it. 
 
 " Tell Miss Isabel I wish to see her," said- the father. 
 
 A moment only elapsed ere the fair girl entered the room. 
 She blushed deeply when she saw who was with her father 
 
 " Come here, my child. This young gentleman has informed 
 me that he has long been attached to you, and believes that 
 you are attached to him; is it sol" kindly asked Mr. Gran- 
 ville. 
 
 She made no reply. 
 
 " Did you not tell young Mr. Benson that you loved him, 
 and that you would marry him ?" asked Mr. Granville. 
 
 " I did, Pa," was the child's reply. 
 
 " Have you altered your mind, my darling ?" 
 
 " No, Pa," was the response, plainly spoken. 
 
 " Do you wish to marry Mr. Marion Monck ?" 
 
 " No, Pa, if you do not wish me to do so." 
 
 " You can go to your room. Send down your Aunt Kate to 
 me. Now, Mr. Monck, I presume you are satisfied," said 
 Mr. Granville. 
 
 " I am, air. I have been most grossly deceived, and I would 
 not marry her, sir, if she were Queen of England," said the 
 indigndht Marion.
 
 230 VIGOR. 
 
 " I dare say you would not, nor as Miss Isabella Granville. 
 But enough of this." 
 
 Here entered Mrs. Tom Granville. 
 
 " Did you send for me, brother Granville ?" she asked. 
 
 " I did, madam, and it was to place in your hands this mo- 
 ney," handing her a roll. " I have had evidence of how care- 
 fully you have guarded my daughter, and I wish to relievo 
 you from all farther responsibility- in the matter. Please use 
 that money to go to Baltimore this afternoon, or so soon as 
 you see fit. I hope to have my house relieved of your pres- 
 ence before night," coldly remarked the exasperated Mr. 
 Granville. 
 
 " I shall not be here an hour longer, I can assure you, 
 brother of mine" and, turning to Marion " I hope some day 
 to thank you for your manliness in revealing secrets to Mr. 
 Granville which, as a gentleman, you had no right to reveal. 
 I wish you both farewell." 
 
 Aunt Kate left the room. Meanwhile Mr. Granville seized 
 a pen and wrote a note, carefully sealing it. It was directed 
 to the cashier of his concern. " Take this, sir," he said, ad- 
 dressing Marion, " and go to the office. The cashier to whom 
 it is addressed will make up your account and give you a check 
 for what salary is due you. I will remain here until you re- 
 turn. If there is not money in the office, tell him to till up a 
 check, and I will sign it here. Bring the cartman with you 
 when you return. I wish you to remove from my house as 
 speedily as possible. It is unnecessary for me to add that I 
 shall have no further need of you in my business ; in fact, I 
 wish our acquaintance to end to-night in all ways and shapes, 1 ' 
 sternly observed the merchant.. 
 
 " I can assure you that in this matter, Mr. Granville, I will 
 be as obedient as I have ever been to your wishes," was 
 Marion's response. 
 
 " Thank you. I regret what has occurred, but it cannot be 
 helped. After what has passed, your own good sense will 
 point out to you that our acquaintance is at an end," said Mr. 
 Granville. 
 
 Marion bowed, but did not venture to reply. He carried the 
 note to the office. The cashier made up his account, and 
 drew a check for the balance. The Count had left the office. 
 
 " Are you going to leave us ?" asked the kind-hearted 
 cashier. 
 
 " I believe 30," was the reply.
 
 VIGOR. 231 
 
 " Take the check to Mr. Granville to be signed. Here is 
 your account, on which I have placed my initials." 
 
 Marion then found the cnrtman and proceeded to State 
 street. The check was signed by Mr. Granville without a 
 word of comment. Marion went up to his room, packed his 
 things, and one of the servants of Mr. Granville who had gone 
 up with him helped him to bring his trunks down stairs, and 
 they were placed upon the cart. " Where shall I go ?" asked 
 the cartman. For a moment, Marion appeared confused. He 
 did not know where to go. He thought of Mr. Wilson's old 
 place, and then he told the cartman to drive to Clark & Brown's, 
 in Maiden lane. There he went and there we will leave him. 
 
 After Marion's departure, Mr. Granville despatched a note 
 to Col. Benson. That gentleman replied to it by calling in 
 person. The two gentlemen were alone for a long time. Mrs. 
 Kate Granville had been taken with her baggage to the Phila- 
 delphia train before Colonel Benson arrived. She did not bid 
 her brother-in-law good-bye a second time, but pressed Isa- 
 bella to her heart when she lefc her in her own room. We 
 will not go into any unnecessary details, but will come at once 
 to results. That evening a small party was assembled at Mr. 
 Granville's residence. Colonel Benson, his wife, his daughter, 
 and his son were there. A venerable clergyman was also 
 present, and before he left, Mr. Middleton Benson became the 
 husband of Isabella Granville. 
 
 The simple girl was very pale, but she made the responses 
 during the ceremony with a firm voice, and it would have been, 
 difficult for a stranger to have noticed that she was dissatised 
 in the least with her share in the proceedings. Mr. Granville 
 appeared satisfied that he was doing a good deed, and provid- 
 ing well for a favorite child. Colonel Benson, also, was not 
 displeased. His son had made what is called a good match. 
 The settlements made by Mr. Granville were unexceptionable, 
 and of the most liberal character. He was entirely ignorant 
 that Isabella had any previous attachment, for Mr. Granville 
 had considered it unnecessary to mention what he deemed a 
 childish attachment. Middletou acted like a child who had 
 become possessed of a pretty toy that he had admired for a 
 long time. 
 
 It had been decided by the old people that the new married 
 couple should continue to reside in State street, at the old 
 mansion, and Mr. Granville was to live with them at least for 
 a time. So closed the day, eventful by the fact of the two 
 marriages.
 
 232 VIGOR. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 Clark fr Brown t Coffee JTous" in Maiden Lane Marion Monrk in his nne 
 Qu triers The Count Pnlstch nski calls upon him with on offer of money 
 Meets Mr. Binnet in Nassau x/reet, and acC'>mp(ini<.s hi'ii home Pome cu- 
 rious facts in rffertnce to the Editor of the Herald Its Early Hi tory, anl 
 the real secret character of Mr. Bennett. 
 
 MARION removed with his baggage to the coffee-house in 
 Maiden Lane. It was a lodging house and a restaurant com- 
 bined. It furnished rooms at the moderate sum of two and a 
 half dollars a week, and the occupant had it optional with him- 
 self where to get his meals. He had to pay x for what he or- 
 dered, and if he chose to live expensively and consume the 
 choicest bits in the larder, he could do so, or he could live on 
 a more simple fare, or he could, in case of stern necessity, 
 live on bread and water. 
 
 When the room had been selected, his baggage carried into 
 it, and he felt located, Marion came down into the bar-room, 
 and ordered a glass of hot whiskey punch and a cigar. He 
 had already learned the way to drown sorrow. He had not 
 long been seated in the bar-room ere the Count Falsechinski 
 entered. 
 
 " Aha, Monsieur Marion. I am seeking for you," was his 
 first address, as he took a chair and seated himself by the side 
 of our hero. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Count, particularly to-night. I sup- 
 pose you have heard that I am no longer one of the white 
 slaves of Mr. Granville," observed Marion with a good deal of 
 bitterness. 
 
 " It was the merest accident in the world. I was at the 
 office towards night, and the cashier told me that you had been 
 paid off, and while he was relating this to me, the cart man, 
 Billy Christie, entered, and from him I learned that he had 
 carted you and your baggage to this place. What led to the 
 explosion, and your sudden dismissal, is beyond my present 
 knowledge, and if you will favor me with all the particulars I 
 shall feel very much obliged, and my mind will be very much 
 relieved,'' replied the Count.
 
 VIGOR. 233 
 
 * 
 
 Marion cheerfully complied with this reasonable request., 
 and commenced as follows : 
 
 " Count, I deemed your advice good, and I followed it to 
 the letter. I determined to know my fate to know the 
 worst." 
 
 Then Marion continued, and told the Count all that our 
 readers have been informed respecting the events of the day. 
 The Count replied, 
 
 " Nothing but what I expected, my dear boy. I suppose 
 you are satisfied now that what I told you is true, that you 
 have nothing to hope for in the case of Miss Granville." 
 
 " I am satisfied that Mr. Granville is a hard-hearted, un- 
 grateful man, and all my services to him go for nothing," said 
 Marion. 
 
 " Of course they do. He is like all the rest of mankind 
 no more nor less. As long as you were of service to him, ho 
 was your friend. You cross his purpose, and you are kicked 
 out without a word. Have you any money ?" asked the Count 
 very kindly. 
 
 " Plenty ; he paid the balance of my salary, and I have a 
 couple of hundred dollars in my pocket," said Marion. 
 
 " Two hundred dollars judiciously spent will enable you to 
 carry on the war for some time. I was afraid you had no mo- 
 ney, and came to request that you would make me your bank- 
 er. I am a rich man, and you need but to ask me for money 
 to obtain it in any quantity. I have had an idea of leaving 
 the employ of Mr. Granville for some time. I shall do so at 
 once. He has treated you so badly that it will no longer be a 
 pleasure to remain with or be connected with him," remarked 
 the amiable Count. 
 
 " I thank you, Count, for your generous offer and I will 
 add, that did I need assistance I would at once go to you for 
 it," replied Marion. 
 
 " That is right ; and now I wish to give you some advice. 
 Don't take any situation for the present. These changes make 
 a more sensible man. You, I dare say, Marion, think that 
 losing your situation with Mr. Granville will be^a great injury 
 to you. No such thing. It will be of service. ' A young man 
 who is in one position too long g3ts stereotyped. You had no- 
 thing to expect more from him. You have learned all that is 
 to be learned in that shop. Now you must try something 
 else. But don't be in a hurry. I have something in view 
 for you, but my plans are not quite matured yet. As soon as 
 they are, I shall need ypur services, and you will find your
 
 234 VIGOR. 
 
 * 
 
 situation much bettered from what it was yesterday. One 
 thing I must insist upon ; don't fall in love again with the 
 next pretty face you meet," said the Count good-humoredly. 
 
 Here they were surprised by the entrance of a young clerk 
 of Mr. Grranville, who had been a warm friend of Marion. His 
 eyes were sparkling with excitement, and he hastily observed, 
 
 " Well, Marion', I have got some news that I thought you 
 would like to hear, and so 1 came around to tell you. I have 
 just been to all the morning papers with an advertisement." 
 
 " What was it about, Benny ?" demanded Marion. 
 
 " It was a notice of the marriage of Miss Bell with Mr. 
 Benson this evening ; Mr. Grranville sent me with it," replied 
 the boy named Benny. 
 
 " Oh," exclaimed the Count, I like that. That is- caging 
 the pretty bird with a vengeance. So, it is all over at last. 
 Marion, my boy, allow me to congratulate you with all my 
 heart. I hope you are cured now, eh ?" 
 
 Marion did not speak ; he was very pale and very angry. 
 He walked across the room rapidly several times, ordered more 
 punch, and then reseated himself. 
 
 " It is a bitter medicine, Count, but it is all for the best ; 
 and as you say, I am satisfied. Thank you, Benny, for the 
 news. Come and see me when you have a spare moment." 
 
 Bennj took his leave, and soon after the Count followed his 
 example. When Marion retired to his room that night, it was 
 not to sleep ; his mind was too excited for that. He lay 
 awake thinking over plans for the future ; but before any par- 
 ticular one to suit him had been presented to his mind's eye, 
 he fell asleep, and it was at a late hour the next morning 
 when he awoke. It all seemed like a dream. He hastily 
 dressed himself, hurried down to the bar-room,. snatched up a 
 morning paper, and in it found the marriage notice alluded to 
 by the boy Benny. 
 
 " No, no," he exclaimed, " it ie no dream ; it is all true." ' 
 
 He read no more, but went into the dining room and ordered 
 a cup of coffee and a light breakfast, and when he had finished 
 this slight i^past, feeling much better, he smoked a cigar, 
 and took his way up Nassau street. Once or twice he turned 
 about with his face towards the store. How odd it is to 
 change onr habits, and refrain from frequenting old haunts ! 
 For years Mariou's footsteps had taken him in the direction of 
 Mr. Granville's counting room. Suddenly he found himself 
 cut off from going there any more. He could hardly realize it, 
 and he felt an isolation that can only be understood by those
 
 VIGOR. 235 
 
 who have experienced it. He wended his way xip to the 
 Clinton Hall, in which building was the Mercantile Library 
 Association. He had never omitted to pay his dues at that 
 knowledge-fountain for young clerks, and had never discon- 
 nected himself from it, although for a long time he had not 
 availed himself fully of its privileges. This morning he saun- 
 tered in, was accosted cheerfully by the librarian, and for an 
 hour or more he amused himself by reading one of the Euro- 
 pean publications found upon its tables. Tired of this, Marion 
 again sought the street, and passed out of the Hall by the Nas- 
 sau street entrance. He halted for a moment on the step, and 
 was accosted by a person who was passing, with a " Good 
 morning, sir." 
 
 " Good morning," replied Marion, but at that instant he 
 recognized the speaker, and added, " Ah, Mr. Bennett, I did 
 not at first recognize you ; how do you do, sir ?" 
 
 " Very well ; and what are you doing up near little Wall 
 street ? I thought your researches did not extend above the 
 lower Wall street," said Mr. Bennett, laughing, for he had 
 already nicknamed Ann street, in which the Herald office was 
 located, as ' Little Wall street.' 
 
 " I cannot say that I am connected with Wall street or 
 Broad street any more ; I am out of mercantile business," said 
 Marion. 
 
 " Indeed ! How long since ?" asked Mr. Bennett. 
 
 " Twenty-four hours," replied Marion. 
 
 Mr. Bennett added, " Then your time cannot be much occu- 
 pied, and you will have leisure to go over the way to my 
 room. Come along with me." 
 
 Marion did as Mr. Bennett desired, and went over to the 
 editor's room. At that time, directly opposite Clinton Hall in 
 Nassau street, there stood five brick three-story buildings, 
 about twenty feet wide each. The lower floors were occupied 
 as stores and Ihe upper part as boarding houses. It was in 
 the third building from the corner of Beekman that Mr. Ben- 
 nett had his quarters Marion followed his conductor up flie 
 narrow stairs to the third floor, and into the froBt room over- 
 looking Nassau street. 
 
 " This is .my sanctum," =aid the editor, "and now take a 
 seat and make yourself at home. I have a Hue to write, and 
 then I will talk to you." 
 
 Marion glanced his eyes about the sleeping apartment of the 
 man who was even then making himself felt in journalism. 
 There was a maple single bedstead in one corner of the room,
 
 236 VIGOR. 
 
 and between the windows was a table with but very few papers 
 upon it ; for it is a very extraordinary fact that this remarka- 
 ble editor, even in after years, when an accumulation of letters ' 
 and masses of manuscript read and received would have been 
 on his hands, never appeared to have many papers about him ; 
 all were disposed of summarily and systematically, and but 
 few papers covered his table. There were one or two books 
 recently published, sent in to be noticed. On one .corner of 
 the table was a small pocket edition of Shakespeare, with leaves 
 innumerable turned down as an index, and many little slips of 
 paper markers between the leaves. The imprint was " Glasgow : 
 1814." The editor had now finished what he was writing, and 
 noticing that Marion had examined the little volume, he 
 observed, " That volume is a great favorite of mine. I value 
 it not only as ' Shakespeare,' but as an old familiar friend. I 
 brought it with me from Scotland. It was my only companion 
 from Charleston here, and in many of my wanderings it has 
 l)^3ii the only book I owned, as it is now the only book I own. 
 I would not part with it for its weight in gold. You told nie 
 you had left commerce. How is that ?" 
 
 Marion then informed him of what had passed to the extent 
 that he had parted from Mr. Granville. 
 
 " And what do you intend to do now ?" asked the editor. 
 
 " I don't exactly know. I presume I shall find some open- 
 ing for me. I have served an apprenticeship of over seven 
 years, and it would seem like folly to throw all the information 
 I have acquired in that time away, and seek some other em- 
 ployment," said Marion. 
 
 " How would you like to connect yourself with newspaper 
 life ? I think you would succeed very well," observed the 
 editor. 
 
 " Me ! I never wrote a line in my life to be printed," was 
 Marion's reply. 
 
 " It don't follow that you could not do it. On the contrary, 
 I think you would write well with a little practice. Do you 
 remember that boarding-house story you told at the dinner the 
 day you became of age ? That was very amusing. If I had it 
 now I would publish it,. If you could write that, precisely as 
 you told it, it would make a qapital article," suid the editor. 
 
 " You flatter me, Mr. Bennett ; but I ain afraid I should 
 make a poor hand at a newspaper article. I must stick to 
 business, and I suppose I shall find something to do ere long," 
 answered Marion. 
 
 " If you do not, come and see me," Mr. Bennett replied.
 
 VIGOR. . 237 
 
 " I am rarely mistaken in my estimate of a person's ability, 
 and I will give you a trial whenever you are so disposed. So 
 Miss Granville is married 1 ?" 
 
 " Yes sir. She was married last night. You must have 
 noticed it in the morning papers ?" said Marion. 
 
 " I did. What passes among my friends, or my enemies, 
 for that matter, rarely escapes my attention. I generally get 
 hold of it early. And my white-cravated friend Wilson has 
 also married ? Why, marriage seems to be the order of the 
 day in your quarter of the city. Bye-and-bye I suppose you 
 will be following the example of some of these people. What 
 has become of the Count Falsechiuski 1 ? He is a very curious 
 fellow, that," said the editor. 
 
 Marion made a reply, not noticing the marriage allusion. It 
 was a sore subject to him ; and soon after he remarked that 
 he knew the value of an editor's time, anr. would not trespass 
 longer upon it, and he took his leave. Before doing .so, the 
 editor gave him a cordial invitation to call upon him at any 
 time he found convenient, that he should always be happy to 
 see him. This was an invitation that Mr. Bennett gave to very 
 few people of the tens of thousands that he came in contact 
 with then and in after years. 
 
 That scene in a Nassau street boarding-house occurred a 
 quarter of a century ago. That editor was as conscious of 
 power at that time as he is now. He cared nothing for money 
 then, save to serve the great purpose of his life, the establish- 
 ment of a great independent daily journal, modelled after his" 
 own ideas of what a daily journal should be. He worked then 
 with brain and hands mentally and physically, to achieve suc- 
 cess, and he succeeded. He had commenced with a partner, 
 a stupid jackass, in Ann street. After the fire, which had 
 burned out his establishment, Mr. Bennett started again, alone, 
 with a solemn determination that for his natural life he would 
 have no more to do with partners. He planted upon the He.- 
 rald its imprint, " James Gordon Bennett, Editor and Propri- 
 etor," and it has never been changed to this day. His old 
 partner started an opposition paper, another Herald, but that 
 soon died out, and Mr. Bennett was in the field alone. lie 
 was not inexperienced in journalism in the city of New York, 
 for as early as 1827 he started in Chatham Square a small 
 daily, which he sold for one cent. It did not last long. Later 
 he started a Sunday paper. He was for a long time connected 
 with a paper that the celebrated Henry Eckford owned, called 
 the National Advocate. His connection with Webb and Noah
 
 238 . VIGOR. 
 
 
 
 is well known. He made these men famous, and when he left 
 the Courier and Enquirer, it was to connect himself with a 
 daily journal in Philadelphia. From thence he came to New 
 York, and soon after the Herald sprang into existence. Mr. 
 Bennett was then what he has been in more mature age, quiet, 
 reserved and thoughtful. Words may escape his memory, but 
 never an idea, or a new idea. Few men can distinguish so 
 readily the difference between mere words, however prettily 
 expressed, and words that convey ideas. He has ever used a 
 small memorandum book. In it he writes a catch word to a 
 thought or an idea. This book is the key to the editorials in 
 his paper of that or the ensuing day, or used to recall an idea, 
 a fact, or the heading fur an article weeks or months after it 
 was noted, and eventually became the subject matter for a 
 " leader," or a series of editorials of a thundering or startling 
 character. 
 
 He is both shy and extremely sensitive. He admits few to 
 any degree of intimacy with him. Those that he so selects 
 must be original men, who are able to suggest new ideas, or 
 strike out nev aod startling subjects men who have travelled, 
 and who can give him information upon subjects that he did 
 not know before. All is fish that comes to his net. He values 
 men as they contribute to the success of his journal. Person. 
 ally he is as cold as an icicle. With a man of information, he 
 will talk out an editorial in the very presence of the man who 
 has originated the ideas or facts upon which it is based. He 
 will enlarge upon the emanations of the minds of others so 
 that when they read the very editorial a few days afterwards, 
 and recognize its groundwork or base, they will be perfectly 
 astounded at the beauty and symmetry of its appearance, its 
 ornaments, and the genius of the entire editorial structure. If 
 a statesman calls upon him, and he possesses genius, original- 
 ity, or information of any kind, past, present or future, that is 
 unknown to Mr. Bennett, the eyes of the latter sparkle he 
 moves uneasily in his chair, or rouses himself up if reclining 
 on a sofa, and leads off in conversation until he draws his man 
 out, and has drained him dry. Then perhaps he will talk ou 
 for his own practice, or to impress the subject more fully upon 
 his own memory, or to shape it for an editorial. Some editors 
 write out their thoughts 3Fr. Bennett thinks them out, in his 
 solitary hours, and is as ready to dictate a complete editorial 
 from his tongue, as others were to write one. Some days a 
 gentleman will see in the next day's Herald an analysis of his 
 own conversation with the editor the evening previous. What
 
 VIGOR. 239 
 
 he acquires from anybody goes into the editorial mind and 
 mill, and the editorial miller grinds it and adopts it as his own, 
 and forgets where it came from ; and so completely does it bo- 
 come a part of himself, that he will use the identical idea or 
 fact to the very man who gave it to him, unless perhaps he has 
 previously used it in the Herald editorials. 
 
 Many men, or rather the vast majority of mankind who read 
 the Herald, have no real idea of the character, mind or habits 
 of the editor and proprietor. They regard him as a lucky in- 
 dividual, who as an editor has prospered in life in a financial 
 point of view, and is enabled to cluster around him men of 
 talent, and that these writers make the great newspaper that 
 the Herald unquestionably is. This is true but to a very lim- 
 ited extent. Those men carry out ideas that originate with the 
 proprietor. His mind is unceasing in its activity. It is never 
 idle. He comes to his office charged with matter for his edi- 
 torials. He calls in one reporter to his private sanctum. Dic- 
 tating a column perhaps upon one subject, the reporter takes 
 it down in short hand in five or ten minutes, and goes out to 
 his desk to write it out. Another reporter succeeds him. Mr. 
 Bennett is perhaps ten minutes more in dictating another col- 
 umn, upon another subject. So it goes on for an hour, until 
 editorial articles of the highest importance are dictated. The 
 reporters write out these articles. They are sent up to the 
 printing office, and all the force is put on them. Mr. Bennett, 
 if he chooses, can read the corrected proof, and yef, not be de 
 tained more than an hour at the office from the time he arrived. 
 Such are the inner workings of the Herald office. 
 
 Money, this singular man regards as dross, except so far as 
 it contributes to the increase of his paper. Show Mr. Bennett 
 a mode by which he could make a million certain in a specula- 
 tion, and he would laugh at the proposal but decline to have 
 anything to do with the affair. This can be said of him with 
 truth, that he never speculated to the extent of a dollar in his 
 life, and never prostituted or used the columns of his paper 
 to forward the speculations or private objects of others know- 
 ingly. Show him a working plan of type and press that would 
 strike off a million of copies an hour, and he would buy it, if 
 it cost a million, nnd would not give a penny more for it, were 
 he guaranteed the exclusive use of it. He wants the best of 
 everything that increases the power of the Herald, but he 
 cares not a fig if the rival papers have the same facilities. He 
 wants the machinery of the Herald equal to any other paper. 
 He don't want any to exceed hijn, but he cares not how near
 
 240 ^ VIGOR. 
 
 they approach him, if they have the genius and means to do so 
 The Herald is himself lie knows no other joy or pleasure 
 compared with it. It is his god his idol his all ; and every 
 thing else falls below it in his mind. His is a terrible power, 
 and he knbws it. He is conscious that every line tells upon 
 thousands of the human race. 
 
 He has the giant's power, but does not use it like a giant. 
 If Mr. Bennett had malice, he could dictate an editorial that 
 would set New York by the ears, and have mobs and riots 
 every week of his life. But no that he does not regard as 
 the proper vocation of a great newspaper conductor. 
 
 We are somewhat in advance of our story, but the author 
 has written of a man who twenty-five years ago was what he is 
 now, save success which be had not then reached. People 
 have an idea that the Herald twenty-five years ago was a hor- 
 rible paper. It was not so, and would not appear so if the old 
 files were re-published to-day. When Mr. Bennett started 
 the Herald he published every thing that occurred or that was 
 talked about in the street. At that time it was an innovation 
 upon the old established newspaper custom, and the Herald 
 was regarded as an immoral publication. Now the same things 
 are published daily, only a hundred times worse, by every 
 daily paper, but nothing is thought of it. 
 
 CHAPTER XLL 
 
 Mr. Wilson demands explanations of Mr Granmlle, his Partner, in respert to 
 the discharn". of Marion Monck Mr. Granvil e gives them Wilson invites 
 Marion to his house to dine Cordial reception by Mrs. Wilson Thebad.inc- 
 cess of M'irion's friends in procuring him another clerkship Marion becomes 
 dissipated Gets acquainted with Theatrical Managers and Actors Gives 
 suppers and dines in restaurants The Count Falsechinski wakes him up to a 
 higher cuurse. 
 
 THE sensation created upon the minds of Mr and Mrs. Wil- 
 son at their breakfast the morning after their o.vn marriage, 
 when they read in the morning papers of_ another marriage, 
 that of young Benson with Isabella Granville, can be better 
 imagined than described. 
 
 " Impossible ! What can it mean, Richard !'" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 Each offered half a dozen supposable cases, but none were 
 satisfactory. At last Mr. Wilson remarked, " It is beyond my 
 ability to solve the riddle. I know of but one way to ascertain
 
 VIGOR. 241 
 
 the facts, and, my dear, as you appear to be so anxious about 
 the matter, I will go at once and find out all about it. When 
 I come home to dinner you shall know all." 
 
 With this understanding Mr. Wilson left home, and pro- 
 ceeded down town. At the head of Wall street, opposite 
 Trinity Church, he met the Count Falsechinski. The Count 
 immediately told Mr. Wilson all he knew about the matter. 
 Mr, Wilson asked, " Do you mean to say that Marion Monck 
 has been discharged from our employ by Mr. Granville ?" 
 
 " In the most peremptory manner. Paid off, too. I met 
 him at his new lodging place, for he left the house of Mr. Gran- 
 ville last night, bag and baggage, and took up his quarters at 
 your old place in Maiden Lane. I think he has the identical 
 room that you occupied when you boarded in that house," re- 
 marked the Count. 
 
 " I must see about this. It is rather a high-handed proceed- 
 ing, I think, on the part of Mr. Granville, to discharge that 
 young man and not say a word to me. I thank you, Count, for 
 your information. We shall meet goon at the office. In the 
 meantime, goud-byc," said Mr. Wilson, and passed onward to 
 the counting-room. 
 
 Mr. Granville had just arrived. When Mr. Wilson entered 
 the office, he walked up to his partner and congratulated him 
 upon the marriage of his daughter, adding, " It seems to have 
 happened in a hurry, or I presume you would have informed 
 me that so important an event was to take place in your 
 family. " 
 
 Mr. Granville replied, " Yes, Wilson, it was a marriage got 
 up somewhat hastily, but I had my reasons. Walk in the pri- 
 vate office, and I will tell you all about it." 
 
 Both partners remained closeted together for some time, and 
 when Mr. Wilson re-appeared, he seemed worried, and not at 
 all satisfied. He took his hat, and left the office for Maiden 
 Lane. At the coffee-house of Clark & Brown he found Marion, 
 who had just returned from his visit to Mr. Bennett. He put 
 out his hand in the most cordial manner, and observed, " I 
 hope, Marion, you do not think that I have had any hand in 
 your abrupt dismissal from our employment." 
 
 " No indeed, sir," replied Marion. " I know to whom I am 
 indebted, and it could not well have happened otherwise. I 
 blame no one. Not even Mr. Granville. He has acted in the 
 matter as he deemed would most conduce to his own happiness, 
 and I have not a word to say. I trust it will prove for the 
 best." 
 
 11 

 
 242 VIGOR. 
 
 " I am rejoiced to find you take it so coolly, and like a 
 philosopher. But what are you going to do now ? You must 
 not remain idle," said Mr. Wilson. 
 
 " I have not settled upon any definite plan. I shall be 
 forced to remain idle for a short time at least, although I hope 
 it will not be long, for mine is not a disposition to keep quiet. 
 I must find some thing to do, or I shall die," replied Marion. 
 
 Mr. Wilson rejoined, " Come with me this afternoon to din- 
 ner. I will take no excuse. Mrs. Nordheim I mean my 
 wife will be pleased to see you. I will not take ' No ' for an 
 answer. Go you must." 
 
 Thus invited, Marion, accompanied by Mr. Wilson, walked 
 up town to the residence of that gentleman. Mrs. Wilson 
 welcomed Marion cordially. Dinner was not quite ready, and 
 Mr. Wilson unfolded his budget of news. He informed his 
 wife of all the reasons that Mr. Granville had given for his 
 urging on the marriage of his daughter, and for discharging 
 Marion. 
 
 " Well, Marion, you must not let it break down your spirits. 
 There is no remedy for you that I see. Isabella has married, 
 Mr. Granville has discharged you from his employ, and now we 
 must put our heads together and see if we cannot do some thing 
 to remedy your loss of a situation. What do you say, Mr. 
 Wilson ?" asked his wife, as she made these practical observa- 
 tions to the discharged clerk. 
 
 Mr. Wilson replied that undoubtedly a better situation even 
 could be obtained for Marion, but that it would, take time, that 
 he would use his utmost exertions to get him as good a situa- 
 tion as he had lost. 
 
 Here the servant came in to say that dinner was served, and 
 the parties went to the table. Dinner occupied a long hour, 
 and Mrs. Wilson did all in her power to cheer up Marion's 
 spirits. She so far succeeded that when Marion left the house, 
 towards evening, he promised to return again soon, and walked 
 to his lodgings with a higher ambition to succeed in New York 
 than he had felt for a long time. 
 
 " This trouble is only a trial of my strength of mind, per- 
 haps, and now I can show that I am as capable of bearing ad- 
 versity as prosperity," was his thought, and when he reached 
 his lodgings he had reasoned himself into the belief that his 
 discharge and the marriage of Isabella were two things that 
 had occurred for his particular benefit, instead of to his injury. 
 
 Marion continued to look about him for a situation for some 
 weeks, but without any success. He was aided by Mr. Wilson,
 
 VIGOR. 243 
 
 and also by the Count Falsechinski, but the efforts of the three 
 amounted to nothing. Marion seemed destined to remain idle. 
 For the first time in his life, he indulged freely in all the 
 pleasures to be derived from visiting places of amusement in 
 New York. The place in which he lodged was frequently 
 visited by English actors and their friends, who could there 
 order an English beefsteak. One of those visitors, whose 
 name was Adam Close, although an American, was an intimate 
 friend of Brough, the English singer, who was then engaged at 
 the Park Theatre in connection with the Woods, singing in the 
 operas of " La Sonambula" and " Amelia." Mr. Close w is 
 also a friend of Mr. Simpson and Mr. Barry, and he introduced 
 Marion into the interior of the old Park Theatre. In the green 
 room he made many acquaintances. Mrs. Vernon w^s then in 
 her prime. John Kemble Mason, who afterwards married the 
 daughter of worthy old Cram, the distiller, was one of the stock 
 actors, and an intimacy sprang up between him and Marion 
 which continued many years afterward. Not a night passed 
 that Marion did not attend the Theatre, both before and behind 
 the curtain, and hardly a night passed that he did not invite 
 some of his new species of acquaintances to a supper with him, 
 either at " Windust's " cellar, near the Theatre, or at Saluin 
 & Suscoinbe's famous restaurant, which many of our readers 
 will well remember. 
 
 Not alone did he limit his patronage to the Park Theatre. 
 The Bowery was just then in its glory, under the regime of 
 the renowned Hamblim. Miss Waring was the star of that 
 establishment, and the gorgeous plays enacted at that popular 
 haunt were a source of great attraction. Marion became well 
 acquainted with all the popular actors and actresses on those 
 boards, and even with the immortal Hamblin himself. 
 
 The Franklin Theatre in Chatham square was then in full 
 blast, with William Seften as the Golden Farmer and John 
 Seften as Jemmy Twitcher. The Olympic, with Mitchell as 
 manager, had just commenced its career of success. A very 
 few months of idleness made Marion well posted in the theat- 
 rical business of the town. He had acquired, in addition, an- 
 other habit, that seemed to grow with what it fed on. Marion 
 had always been abstemious in his habits so far as drinking 
 spiritous liquors or wines was concerned. A few glasses of 
 wine- at most, would, at an earlier period, have completely 
 upset his equilibrium, but after a few months had been spent 
 in giving suppers and drinking parties, a few bottles would 
 hardly disturb his nerves ; and a habit of drinking was grow-
 
 244 VIGOR. 
 
 ing upon him every day. He seemed to have forgotten his old 
 associations, or his business hopes. But this was not to last 
 forever. He had not been forgotten by others, and one morn- 
 ing he was astonished by the entrance of the Count False- 
 ch'mski. 
 
 " Come, Marion, rouse up. I have work for you to do. A 
 new chapter in life for you to open." 
 
 But before we continue this narrative, we must preface it 
 by a history of the Count's personal operations during a period 
 of some months. To do this, we will commence a new chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 Thf Count Fa.lsechin.ikfs Fortunes An Interview with old Nat Prime The 
 Russian Minister, Mr. Bodisco The Count a real Count His Narrative of 
 Family Affairs in Poland and Russia Confides to Mr. Prime that fie lur.i's 
 Miss Grasper The old banker negotiates t'ie matter with ol'i Mr. Grus/>fr 
 succfS.tfully Astonishment of Mr. Granville whfn the Count leaves his cm- 
 ploy Draws his balance of salary and gives it to Marion Munck The lai- 
 trr hires a loom in ike house where Mr. Bennett lodges Visits Colonel Mac 
 Neil at 46 Centre street A bird's eye of the characters found there. 
 
 WE must now return to the Count Falsechinski and his suc- 
 cess in real estate speculators. The Count had fairly gained 
 the entire confidence of the old Wall street broker, Nat Prime. 
 He called upon him frequently, and was always well received. 
 Some time previous to the resu! t of the real estate operation being 
 known the Count asked to see Mr. Prime alone. The former had 
 in his hands a bundle of papers and letters. When he was 
 closeted with old Nat, and when they were not likely to be 
 interrupted, the Count asked, " Mr. Prime, do you believe 
 that I am a Count ?" 
 
 Mr. Prime gave a sort of laugh, and answered the question 
 by saying, " I never troubled my head much about the mat- 
 ter, Count, for T did not care whether you were or not. It 
 made no difference to me." 
 
 " For that reastm, my dear sir, and because you have not 
 seemed to care, but have treated me in the most cordial man- 
 ner as a man, without knowing any thing of my antecedents, I 
 feel happy to be able to show you authentic documents prov- 
 ing who and what 1 am. I could not do so until this morning, 
 when the mail brought me a letter from Mr. Bodisco, the 
 Russian Minister at Washington-. Will you read this letter ?" 
 asked the Count, as he passed a letter to the old man.
 
 VIGOR. 245 
 
 Mr. Prime received it into his hands, looked it over a 
 moment, and observed, "Count, this is all Greek to me. I 
 can't read Russian, Polish, or whatever language this letter is 
 written in. You must translate it for me." 
 
 ' I forgot, Mr. Prime. The letter from Mr. Bodisco is 
 written in the French language. I will translate it for you." 
 
 " Do so, and it will answer all necessary purposes," was the 
 reply of Mr. Prime. 
 
 The Count continued : " Before I do this, Mr. Prime, I must 
 mention some facts connected with my family interest. I am a 
 younger brother of one of the oldest families in poor Poland. 
 My brother Stanislaus took an active part in a rising against 
 Russia some years ago. He was seized, and exiled to Siberia. 
 I was a mere lad at the time, and perhaps might have shared 
 his fate, had not a friend of my father at some risk to himself 
 protected and educated me. I was forgotten until I had grown 
 to be a young man, when accident revealed to the authorities 
 at Warsaw who I really was. I barely escaped with my life, 
 and reached England safely. I sobn after came to this country, 
 and .then I swore a solemn oath that I would not eat, drink, or 
 do any thing that involved expense, except to barely keep life 
 in my body until I acquired sufficient funds to pay whatever 
 fines the Russian government might inflict upon me, in order 
 that I might then be restored to my position in society, and be 
 enabled to return to my own country without danger to my life 
 or to my liberty. My brother had no children ; but as there 
 was no pardon for him, no hope of clemency from the emperor 
 in his behalf, it perhaps was lucky for me that his death, which 
 became known at St. Petersburg about eighteen months ago, 
 placed me at the head of my family, and enabled me to treat 
 for restoration to my own rights. A powerful friend of mine 
 in the Russian capital went to work faithfully for my interest. 
 Letters upon letters have passed. I have given the most 
 solemn assurance to the Russian government of my devotion. 
 The result of all this is that I am fully restored to my true 
 rank, or the rank that my brother held before his unfortunate 
 patriotic failure, and without any conditions except the pay- 
 ment of a fine which amounts to about twenty-two thousand 
 dollars of your money, which has been imposed upon me. The 
 matter is now in the hands of the Russian Minister at Wash- 
 ington. I have to arrange the financial part with him, and he 
 will send the same to the European Government. In less than 
 a year all obstacles will be removed. I shall be once more 
 upon a good footing with the Government the head of my own.
 
 246 VIGOR. 
 
 family, and be the manager of the family estate in Poland of 
 the Falsechinski's This is the purport of tire Ambassador's 
 letter, dated at, Washington." 
 
 " What is the income of the estates of your family, Count?" 
 asked the banker. 
 
 The Count replied, " Before they were confiscated and my 
 brother exiled, the revenue was almost princely I believe as 
 high as twenty-five thousand pounds sterling. But I have no 
 idea that they can now be anything like that amount, even under 
 the most favorable circumstances. Be these revenues small 
 or great, is not the question. I want to be a man once more 
 in the land of my birth, instead of a wanderer ; I wish to hold 
 my true rank and position, even if the revenue were not one 
 cent," said the Count. 
 
 " Right, perfectly righl^ Count ; you are a man, every inch 
 of you, and I am glad you have told me this. What can I do 
 to aid you ?" asked Mr. Prime. 
 
 " You can draw a check to the order of M. Bodisco, and I 
 will remit it to him. Thiij check will be returned to you 
 after it has been paid at the bank, will it not ?" asked the 
 Count. 
 
 " Aha ! my Count. I see what you are driving at. It will 
 be evidence that you have paid the money, in case the Russian 
 Minister proves tricky, eh V said Mr. Prime. 
 
 " He may not acknowledge receipt of the money, and as you 
 say, Mr. Prime, the check with his endorsement would be 
 pretty conclusive evidence that he had got it, but I hope there 
 will never be any necessity to use it against him," was the 
 remark of the Count. 
 
 " There is nothing like being oh the safe side with those 
 diplomatic chaps. They are an uncertain set. More so than 
 common counts and humbugs. Excuse me, Count ; I did not 
 mean you. But to tell you the truth, Count, I have always 
 regarded you as a sharp, shrewd, intelligent man. I always 
 liked you, but until this morning I fancied that so far as your 
 Countship was concerned, that it was all humbug. But J did 
 not like you the worse for it, and I can't say that I shall like 
 you any better for knowing that you are a real, instead of a 
 sham Count," said Mr. Prime. 
 
 The Count bowed, but did not make a reply. He knew that 
 he had raised himself full one hundred per cent, in the banker's 
 estimation by what he had stated, for the old gentleman was a 
 real admirer of aristocracy, let it belong to what country it 
 might. The Count had not done yet.
 
 VIGOR. 247 
 
 " Mr. Prime," he asked, " how does my account stand with 
 you since the sale of the real estate ?" 
 
 The banker made no reply, but rose and walked to the door. 
 He opened it and called " Mr. Christmas," and then reseated 
 himself. A moment elapsed, and the employee answeting to 
 the name of Christmas made his appearance. 
 
 " What balance has the Count in our hands in cash, and 
 what securities also ?" asked the banker. 
 
 " Shall I make out his account with the interest added to 
 his credit ?" asked the bookkeeper. 
 
 " No, no. Simply the balance, without interest. That can 
 be made up at any time, and, by the way, draw a check for 
 twenty-two thousand dollars to the order of Mr. Bodisco, the 
 Russian Minister at Washington," ordered the banker. 
 
 " Make it twenty-five thousand dollars," remarked the Count, 
 and turning to Mr. Prime, he added, " It is better to make it 
 somewhat larger than the exact amount. It will do no harm. 
 Although a minister cannot be bribed, yet it don't do any 
 harm to have two or three thousand dollars in his hands. He 
 may have expenses to incur, eh, Mr. Prime ?" quietly observed 
 the Count. 
 
 Both laughed heartily, and the expression of their faces 
 would seem to imply that they had no idea that the Russian 
 Minister would ever return any change on the twenty-five 
 thousand dollar check. Presently the bookkeeper returned 
 and stated, " The Count has a cash balance to his cre'dit on our 
 books of one hundred and six thousand dollars ; less this check 
 of twenty-five thousand dollars, it is eighty-one thousand dol- 
 lars. We also hold bond a mortgage for one hundred and 
 fifty thousand dollars,. bearing interest at seven per cent., pay- 
 able semi-annually." 
 
 " Thank you. That is all, Mr. Christmas," said Mr. Prime, 
 and the bookkeeper returned, and the old banker turned to the 
 Count. " Pretty snug, that, Count. Eighty-one thousand at 
 four per cent, is three thousand two hundred and forty dollars, 
 and sevlfn per cent, on one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, 
 is ten thousand five hundred dollars. Total, thirteen thousand 
 seven hundred and forty dollars. Nearly fourteen thousand 
 per annum, Count, is a nice little income for any single man, 
 and can be increased still more. Count, when you go back tc 
 Europe, I suppose you will be marrying some of those blooded 
 dames, eh ?" 
 
 " Really, Mr. Prime, I cannot say ; but you will laugh at 
 me if I confide a little secret to you," replied the Count.
 
 248 VIGOR. 
 
 ' Not a bit not a bit of it. Tell me your secret. Some 
 love scrape, eh ? Some pretty girl in your eye, eh ?" and the 
 old banker rubbed his hands with delight. 
 
 The Count saw his advantage at once, and he had a plan 
 fully matured in his own mind. He needed the assistance of 
 Mr. Prime to carry it out to a successful conclusion. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Prime, you have guessed my secret. I am in love 
 with a beautiful young lady, but I have no hopes. She is not 
 within my reach," said the Count, in a very humble tone. 
 
 " Not within your reach 1 How the d 1 is that ? You 
 have a capital of nearly two hundred and fifty thousand dol- 
 lars, that I know. You are a Count. You are very good look- 
 ing. You are intelligent, and how is she not within your 
 reach ? Perhaps the lady is already married," said the banker. * 
 
 " Oh, no, sir. She is single, and her father is a particular 
 friend of yours," replied the Count. 
 
 " Indeed. Who is she ? Tell me her father's name. Per- 
 haps I can give you a helping hand in the matter, eh ? Do 
 you know her well ? How long have you been acquainted with 
 her ?" hurriedly asked the banker, who was now fully inter- 
 ested in the affair. 
 
 " I am not even acquainted with the lady to speak to her. I 
 have met her on one occasion, but she was so far above me 
 that I did not dream of ever being able to aspire to her hand. 
 With your aid, Mr. Prime, the case is different. Her name is 
 Irene Grasper, and she is the daughter of your friend Mr. 
 Grasper. There, the secret is out, and I hope safe in your 
 .keeping," said the Count. 
 
 " Safe, my dear boy, as a rat in a trap. Above you, man 
 alivo ! No such thing. She shall be yours. I will make it 
 my business to see her father. You are no humbug. You 
 have got the tin, the solid rocks, and he must pint, too, if you 
 marry his daughter," said the banker. 
 
 " My dear sir, I do not mean to marry for money. Never 
 dreamed of such a thing," and the Count could hardly keep 
 his countenance, for it was the money that the Count had in 
 view. He had a list of all the young ladies of property in 
 New York. He had corrected and altered it for three years 
 according to circumstances. He had made up his mind lo 
 marry a fortune, and to go through with the entire list, one by 
 oue, until he married the richest that he could get out of the 
 lot. Miss Grasper was A No. 1 on the list. The old man 
 was reputed to be worth a million, and this was an only daugh- 
 ter. To tho Count's reply that he never dreamed of such a
 
 VIGOR. 249 
 
 thing as marrying for money, the old banker remarked that he 
 was a fool if he did not. 
 
 " I'll tell you what it is, Count that is all very fine on 
 your part, but you have consulted me in this matter, and I am 
 your banker. I will not permit you to be imposed on. You 
 have, as I said before, a title and the hard stuff. If you marry 
 my old friend's daughter, he shall come down handsomely. lie 
 shall put up the solid. I think he ought to give his daughter 
 as much as you can show. Leave that all to me. Do you 
 secure the girl, I will arrange the matter with my old crony. 
 You have got nearly two hundred and fifty thousand dollars 
 that I can vouch for, Count. Suppose old John don't or won't 
 agree to plank down for his daughter that sum. What shall I 
 do then ?" asked Mr. Prime. 
 
 "Excuse me, Mr. Prime, but the idea of mixing up money 
 matters in an affair of the heart really shocks me, but if you 
 insist upon my saying some thing, I will only say I leave it 
 entirely in your hands. I think if he gives any thing to his 
 daughter, he ought to secure her one hundred and fifty thou- 
 sand dollars in your hands the moment she is married to me. 
 You arrange it for her secretly. I don't want the money 
 don't need it," said the Count. 
 
 " Say no more, Count He shall do it. You are as liberal 
 as a prince, and I will see tliat you are not imposed upon, and 
 now I am going to bid you good-morning, Count, come down 
 to No. 1 Broadway to-morrow and dine with me. I don't say, 
 but I think you will find some body there that you will be 
 pleased to see/' said the banker. 
 
 The Count Falsechinski took his hat, and left the banker's 
 office, after having politely accepted the invitation to dine. 
 When he was clear of the premises, he walked down to Del- 
 monico's and ordered a cup of coffee and a cigar, and while 
 sipping the one and puffing the other, his reflections were of a 
 very pleasant character. Occasionally he rubbed his hands 
 and shrugged his shoulders as he counted up the success of his 
 plans. " The remittance to the Minister will place my affair 
 right in Russia. So much for that business. 1 will make love 
 to Miss Grasper. Her papa, under Mr. Prime's tuition, will 
 settle one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, or about ten 
 thousand dollars a year on her. My own income will make it 
 up to twenty -five thousand dollars. With that and my affair 
 all arranged, I will return to Poland, and there I will live like 
 a prince, I will be somebody. The income of my own heredi- 
 tary property bah ! I am afraid that my titles would be a 
 
 11*
 
 250 VIGOR. 
 
 poor concern, if they depended upon the income of my Polish 
 property, without other sources of income. But now I must 
 finish up my career mercantile at once bring it to an end to- 
 day. It may excite wonder in old European minds why I am 
 a clerk ; and until my object is achieved in that quarter, I will 
 end it '' These were the unspoken thoughts of the worthy 
 Count. When he had finished his coffee and cigar, he went 
 around to the office of Granville & Wilson, in Broad street. 
 The two partners were conversing together when the Count 
 approached them. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said he, " I have to thank you for all your 
 kindness to me while in your employ : and I am grieved to say 
 thai I must leave your employment to-day." 
 
 Both partners stood in amazement. The Count continued : 
 
 " I am restored to my rauk and position in Poland by the 
 act of His Imperial Majesty, who imposes upon me a small 
 fine of twenty-five thousand dollars, which 1 have just received 
 from my bankers, Prime, Ward & King, and which I must to- 
 day send to the Russian Ambassador at Washington." 
 
 Here the Count carelessly displayed the check, and Mr. 
 Granville took it into his hands ; and after gazing at it in stu- 
 pid silence, passed it over to Mr. Wilson. 
 
 " I have in my banker's hands, in cash and good securities, 
 about two hundred and fifty thousand dollars so you see that 
 I can get along very well. I would remain with you longer, 
 but I must make my preparations to go to Russia and take my 
 place my real position and manage my estates, which have 
 been very long neglected. Will you give me a check for what 
 may be due me it is not much," added the Count. 
 
 The conversation of the Count was like the shock of an elec- 
 tric battery. Mr. Granville was astonished ; Mr. Wilson was 
 less so, and coolly made up the account of the Count, and 
 drew a check for three hundred and twenty dollars. 
 
 " That is the amount due you, Count," remarked Mr. Wil- 
 son ; " will you sign a receipt fur it ?" 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Granville recovered his speech, and listened 
 to further explanations about the Count's affairs. When the 
 receipt was signed, the Count again thanked the two partners, 
 and took his departure. They looked at each other for some 
 time in silence. 
 
 " That is a rum chicken, that Count, but I can hardly believe 
 that he is humbugging us. That check at least was genuine. 
 Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in Prime & Co.'s
 
 VIGOR. 251 
 
 hands ! Impossible ! Good God, if I had but known that !" 
 exclaimed Mr. Granville. 
 
 Mr. Wilson did not seem at all surprised, and when Mr 
 Granville observed that he meant to see one of the firm that 
 day, and ask if what the Count had stated was true, Mr. Wil- 
 son remarked that it was useless that he knew he had money 
 there. This did not discourage Mr. Granville, for ere two 
 hours had passed, he had ascertained from Mr. King that the 
 Count Falsechinski had kept an account there for years, and 
 that he had over two hundred thousand dollars in their hands ; 
 and Mr. King added, that if Mr. Granville thought of having 
 any financial transactions with the Count, he would find him 
 perfectly safe to an unlimited amount. 
 
 Mr. Granville returned to his own office mortified to a degree 
 that he could hardly have believed. " I did not believe, Wil- 
 son, that the man had five hundred cents ;" and then he mut- 
 tered something about locking the stable door after the horse 
 was stolen, implying that he had had it in his power to have 
 made a warm friend of the Count, but had neglected to do so, 
 nntil the time had arrived when the Count was in such a plea- 
 sant position that he needed no friends. " What a most con- 
 summate ass I have been," was the only consolation that Mr. 
 Granville could find for what he deemed the most stupid stu- 
 pidity. It was too late, however, to mend matters fully, but 
 Mr. Granville resolved to do the best that he could under the 
 circumstances, which was to be extremely civil to the Count, 
 and trust to chance for the result. 
 
 The Count, when he left the office of Mr. Granville, pro- 
 ceeded directly to Clark & Brown's, in Maiden Lane. As we 
 have related, there he found Marion, somewhat depressed in 
 spirits, and he addressed him in a cheerful manner. 
 
 " Cheer up, my boy, and open a new chapter. Have you a 
 pen and ink handy ?" 
 
 Marion procured him one from a little desk in one corner of 
 the room. The Count seated himself at the table, and took out 
 the check for three hundred and twenty dollars that he had 
 received from Granville & Wilson. He indorsed it, for it was 
 drawn to order, and passed it over to Marion, saying pleasantly, 
 
 " Will you go and get that money, Marion 1" 
 
 " Certainly. Shall I bring it back to you ? Will you 
 wait 1" replied Marion. 
 
 " No 1 have not time," said the Count. 
 
 " What shall I do with the money, then ?" 
 
 " Put it in your pocket, my dear boy, for it is yours. Don't
 
 252 VIGOR. 
 
 bother me. Spend it, and when you want more, let me know. 
 I have got work for you to do, but not quite yet. You must 
 get out of this hole. I don't like it. Can't you find no other 
 place to live in except this ]" asked the Count. 
 
 Marion replied that he could and would that day. " Count, 
 you do not know how you have relieved iny mind. I have no 
 money left. I could not have paid the very trifling amount E 
 owe here, but for your kindness. How shall I repay it ?" 
 asked Marion, feelingly. 
 
 " It has already been paid to me in advance, Marion, by 
 you. Now I will repay you some part of the large debt which 
 I owe you. I am not quite ready yet. When you have se- 
 lected a new place, write me a line to that effect, and leave it 
 at Prime, Ward & King's. I have left Granville & Co. That 
 check was for a balance due me, and closed my account there 
 forever. God bless you, my boy take care of yourself ! You 
 will be all right before long ;" and with these hopeful words, 
 the Count left 
 
 " I have one friend left, and I will do at once what he re- 
 commends but first to draw the money," said Marion to him- 
 self. He went at once, and received the money for the check. 
 Then it occurred to him, that when long previous he had called 
 upon Mr. Bennett at his room in Nassau street, he had noticed 
 a bill upon the house, with " Rooms to let." He hurried up 
 there. First, he inquired for Mr. Bennett. He was still re- 
 siding in the house, but was at his office. Then he engaged 
 the back room on the same floor, and paid a month's board in 
 advance. This done, he proceeded to Clark & Brown's, paid 
 his bill, got a cartman, and took his baggage to his new quar- 
 ters. The next step was to write a note to the Count, inform- 
 ing him of his new location, and this he took to Prime & Co.'s 
 oih'ce, and left it. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon before Marion had concluded his 
 work. He went at once to No. 46 Centre street. There ho 
 found Colonel Mac Neil, with whom he had retained an inti- 
 macy during all this period. Mac Neil had been a true friend; 
 and the young clerk had the good sense to respect him more in 
 his fallen fortunes, than when he knew him prosperous and 
 successful. A man of the world like Colonel Mac Neil had it 
 in his power to give many instructive examples to a youth like 
 Marion, and he had noU failed to do so upon every occasion. At 
 this visit, however, Marion seemed possessed of the attributes 
 of manhood. He shook hands with the Colonel. There were 
 many in that room, for it was the holiday season, and Marion
 
 VIGOR. 253 
 
 asked all hands up to drink, and then he sat down by Mac 
 Neil 
 
 " Colonel, this is a funny world, is it not ? Queer changes 
 occur ;" he remarked. 
 
 " Just found it out?" abruptly asked the Colonel. 
 
 " This morning I was dead broke not a red. Owed Clark 
 & Brown nineteen dollars. Look here ;" and Marion, as he 
 spoke, exhibited a roll of money. 
 
 " Put that up at once," said Mac Neil, sternly. " You do 
 not know who may notice it. Never show money no gentle- 
 man does so. Besides, in such a place as this it is dangerous. 
 It might cost you the loss of the money and a broken skull. 
 There are men in this room at this moment who would not hes- 
 itate to give you a clip over the head for the sake of a five dol- 
 lar gold piece ; but tell me all about this sudden change of 
 fortune." 
 
 Marion related all to him. He only replied, " That Count 
 is a deep one. I never could make him out satisfactorily to 
 myself. I ever believed him to be a sharper and a sham. I 
 may be mistaken. That three hundred and twenty dollar check 
 would lead me to a diiferent conclusion." 
 
 " Colonel, will you not be. angry with me if I presume to do 
 something ?" asked Marion, in a very apologetic voice. 
 
 " I am not apt to get angry with you, my boy," replied Col- 
 onel Mac Neil. 
 
 " I want you to take fifty dollars of this money. I counted 
 it out before I came in here, and I have placed it in my side 
 pocket here it is ;" and as he spoke he poured the money into 
 the hands of the Colonel. The tears started in the old man of 
 the world's eyes as he received the money. 
 
 " What do you wish me to do with it ?'' he asked. 
 
 " Keep it, to be sure. I thought it might serve you, and I 
 might throw it away. If I should need it, 1 will come to you," 
 observed Marion, delicately. 
 
 " Upon such conditions then I accept it. Wait a moment." 
 The Colonel passed to the bar, and spoke a few words to Hen- 
 ry, the proprietor, and handed him the money. Then he re- 
 turned to the side of Marion. The latter remarked, 
 
 " Colonel, you seem to know this crowd, or they all know 
 you. Who are they ?" 
 
 " I will ask them all up to take another drink, and then I 
 will tell you," replied the Colonel. 
 
 This was accordingly done, and the Colonel continued : 
 
 " Notice that stout man who is seated upon a barrel, talking
 
 254 VIGOR. 
 
 so loudly. That is fighting Charley one of the worst men in 
 the Sixth Ward. He has been engaged in several prize fights. 
 The one talking to him is Parson Charley. He is so nicknamed 
 because his brother is one of the most famous assistant rectors 
 of Trinity Church in this city. That red-faced seedy-looking 
 young man is Theodore Van Ness one of the richest young 
 men at twenty-one years old in Dutchess county. He is now 
 a beggar. That crazy, wild-looking genius, who has a torn 
 blue coat with brass buttons, was in the Tombs all last night. 
 His father once commanded a ship out of this port. She was 
 chartered to take out provisions to the Greek patriots in 1828. 
 His uncle owns the Waverley House down Broadway, and is 
 one of the richest men in town. He has a firm called Fitch 
 Brothers & Co. in Marseilles, France. The uncle's name, is 
 Asa Fitch." 
 
 " Who is the venerable old man with gray hair who is talk- 
 ing to him, Colonel ?" asked Marion. 
 
 " That is Pop Junk. He keeps a junk shop down near the 
 Five Points. He has been in the State Prison for ten years, 
 but is now rich. Curious characters come here," continued 
 Mac Neil, " but they are hardly worth knowing, except to one 
 who is old and experienced enough not to be injured by com- 
 ing in contact with such people." 
 
 Marion remained with the Colonel until evening, and then 
 bade him good night and went to his new boarding-house. 
 
 CHAPTER XL1II. 
 
 Old Mr. Prime and Mr. Gra<per The Count to marry Irene. G 'rasper The 
 Dinner at Air. Prime's Satisfaction all around. 
 
 No sooner had the Count Falsechinki left the banking house 
 of Prime, Ward & King, than the senior partner of that great 
 firm took his hat, and soon after could have been found in the 
 directors' room of one of the principal city banks. He was 
 one of the directors of the institution, and Mr. John Grasper 
 was another. Soon after the latter arrived, and the two old 
 millionaires were engaged in a very earnest conversation. Now 
 and then a sudden but very emphatic exclamation could have 
 been heard from Grasper. 
 
 " What ! a real Count ? None of those impostors ! are you 
 sure of it 1"
 
 VIGOR. 255 
 
 Then Mr. Prime's low tones assured his friend that of this 
 there was not a shadow of a doubt. Again Grasper would 
 open his lips 
 
 " lucoine of his estate twenty-five thousand pounds sterling 
 impossible !" 
 
 But when he was again assured that whatever might be the 
 income of the Count's estates in Poland, there was no mistake 
 in the fact that the firm held cash and securities to the extent 
 of a quarter of million of dollars, his astonishment seemed to 
 have reached a climax, for he was perfectly silent. There was 
 no occasion for expressing incredulity in a financial matter, 
 when Mr. Nafc Prime stood ready to guarantee it. 
 
 It was some moments before the parties opened their mouths 
 again, when the celebrated banker continued the conversa- 
 tion 
 
 " Yes, Grasper, my old friend, the best you can do. You 
 say jour daughter has no previous attachment." 
 
 " None that I know of. In fact I am quite sure not, and I 
 have no particular objection that it shall be a match if all that 
 you say of this Count proves true," said Grasper, in a very 
 quiet manner. 
 
 " If !" exclaimed Mr. Prime with some spirit " do you 
 doubt my word, old friend ?" 
 
 " Not in the least, but it is a large sum, a very large sum. 
 A quarter of a million ! And suppose these two young people 
 bhould become attached, what would I be expected to do ? 
 that is, what sum would I have to settle on my daughter ?" 
 asked his companion. 
 
 " Now you begin to talk up to the mark ; why, I suppose 
 the advantage of noble blood and all that sort of thing, you 
 ought to put down as much cash on the nail as your Juturo 
 son-in-law can show, eh ?" said the banker. 
 
 " I shall do nothing of the kind, but I will do this ; if you 
 will satisfy me that this Count has all you say, is all you say, 
 I will put down as the portion of my daughter one hundred 
 and fifty thousand dollars when the parties are married," said 
 the other. 
 
 " Do I understand you to mean that you will give it to her, 
 out and out ?" demanded the banker. 
 
 " Not exactly. I will place that sum in the hands of your 
 house to be invested in a manner most satisfactory to the 
 Count. The property or the income to be used by the married 
 couple, and to go to any children that my daughter may have 
 by the Count," said Mr. Grasper
 
 256 VIGOR. 
 
 " No, no, that won't do. It is not fair for the Count ; give 
 it out and out to your daughter when she marries him : I will 
 see that it is properly invested. Don't tie them up. If the 
 Count Mere, a beggar it would be different, but he is not. He 
 is amply provided for, worth all or more than I tell you, and 
 the amount that you give to your daughter under the existing 
 circumstances should not be encumbered with conditions. You 
 are not going to live forever, and you will have a nice sum to 
 leave somebody when you die. Use your judgment when you 
 coine to making your will. Then you can settle upon your 
 daughter what you thiuk fit," shrewdly observed the banker. 
 
 " Right, old friend. I am satisfied that your advice is 
 good. Now when shall I see my future son-in-law ?" asked 
 the old man. 
 
 " I will have him on the course to-morrow, and you can trot 
 out your filly at the same time that is to say, come and dine 
 with me to-morrow, and bring Irene with you ; I will have 
 the Count there," was the answer. 
 
 " I will come ; and now let us shake hands upon our agree- 
 ment ; I am much obliged to you for proposing it,'' observed 
 Air Grasper. 
 
 " Wait a while until you see how the new team work in har- 
 ness. Then thank me if you are satisfied with the match." 
 
 The two worthies parted mutually satisfied. Mr. Prime 
 sometimes talked " stable." Some people made the assertion 
 that before he entered into the brokerage and banking busi- 
 ness, that he had been hostler to old Billy Grey, a quiet mer- 
 chant in Boston ; whether true or not is no affair of ours. He 
 did frequently use language that smacked of the stable ; and 
 upon one occasion, when a friend asked kindly after one of his 
 own family who had been sick, Mr. Prime replied, " She is 
 better, thank you, but she has not come to her feed yet." Mr. 
 Prime also prided himself upon his knowledge of horse-flesh, 
 but he did .not boast of it much after a terrific sell was perpe- 
 trated upon him. He was shown a white horse, beautifully 
 variegated with coal-black spots, and his owner called him the 
 " leopard horse." He sold him to the old gentleman at an 
 enormous price some say two thousand dollars. After a 
 while Mr. Prime began to believe that the Bible, when it 
 asked if the leopard could change his spots, implying that he 
 could not do it, was sadly mistaken for his leopard horse did 
 change his spots, or rather all the beautiful spots washed off, 
 and the horse was nothing more nor less than a plain white 
 une. But the banker was a good old soul after all, and did
 
 VIGOR. 257 
 
 many a kind act equal in benevolence to his friendship for 
 the Count. 
 
 The succeeding day the Count Falsechinski met at the din- 
 ner table of the old banker, Mr. Grasper and his daughter. The 
 fair Irene was even more stately beautiful than when we des- 
 cribed her appearance at a party given by Mrs. Nordheim. 
 She was accomplished in almost every variety of the so-called 
 female accomplishments. She spoke Italian and French equal- 
 ly well, and much to the delight of her parent, she maintained 
 a long and animated conversation with the Count in both of 
 these languages. After dinner was finished, while the two old 
 fogies remained at their wine, the Count excused himself and 
 joined Miss Irene at the piano. There -was a guitar by the 
 side of the piano, which the Count took in charge, .and played 
 with exquisite taste and feeling, while he sang several charm- 
 ing odes. The} 7 were much pleased with each other, and the 
 old people noticed this fact with great pleasure. 
 
 When Mr. Grasper and his daughter got ready to leave, the 
 Count asked permission to accompany them, and it was readily 
 granted, and on the arrival of the party at the father's splen- 
 did residence, the Count received an invitation to enter, and 
 spend the remainder of the evening. The Count wondered 
 whether his intentions were known to the fair damsel. Mr. 
 Prime had taken him aside at \\\s residence and informed him 
 that he had come to an understanding with Mr. Grasper, and 
 that if. the Count succeeded in obtaining the consent of the 
 daughter, that the father would give his child one hundred and 
 fifty thousand dollars. This was very gratifying news to the 
 Count, and it gave an impetus to his attentions to Miss Irene 
 Irene Grasper, which bid fair to win success. The Count need 
 have had no fear that old Mr. Grasper had communicated any 
 part of what he had heard from Mr. Prime to any member of 
 his family. He was too much a man of the world, and knew 
 human character too well to be guilty of any such gross act. 
 He knew his child possessed an independent spirit, and be 
 left the Count to conquer it, and to win the young lady's affec- 
 tions by his own merits. 
 
 When the Count left that evening he was well pleased with 
 his day's work, but he added, " 1 am really in love myself. 
 She is just the tall, stately woman I have always had in view 
 as my Countess whenever I married. What a sensation she 
 will create in Parts, Warsaw, or even St. Petersburgh. I am 
 a lucky dog if I win her, even had I not the assurance of the
 
 258 VIGOR. 
 
 trifling sum that will become hers whenever our nuptials are 
 celebrated." 
 
 He dreamed of Irene Grasper that night when he went to 
 sleep. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 Mrs. Woodruff Her House Her great Game in New York Life Modes 
 of Capture Miss Norris a great Card Jane Graham Weston A Hor- 
 rid Story Her heath, leaving Sixty Thousand Dollars Mrs. Miller, the 
 Mother of Miss Josephine Clifton The study of Character and Life, by 
 Mi*s Norris. 
 
 MRS. WOODRUFF pursued the even tenor of her way in Bond 
 street, respected by all in her church, and all those with whom 
 she came in contact who did not- know her real character, or 
 that she was a " whited sepulchre." She had long since quar- 
 relled with the Count Falsechinski, or rather that noble indi- 
 vidual, after the Parker affair, consulted his prudence and cut 
 the good lady's acquaintance. Such sort of proceedings as 
 those connected with Mrs. Parker and her daughter, assisted 
 by Mr. O'Doemall, the Count deemed extremely dangerous ; 
 and after levying what he thought a fair tax upon such fair sin- 
 ners, he withdrew from the connexion. 
 
 But the business of Mrs Woodruff did not diminish. Her 
 horses pranced more proudly than ever as they whirled her 
 carriage down Broadway, or out upon the avenues. No grand- 
 er equipage rested for its mistress at the portals of God's 
 fashionable sanctuary, Grace Church, than the widow's. A 
 coat-of-arms was neatly emblazoned upon the panels of the 
 carriage, and her coachman and footman both wore costly liv- 
 eries. 
 
 Her visitors increased. Ladies from the South, accompa- 
 nied by their husbands, and who stopped at the leading hotels, 
 left their cards at Mrs. Woodruff's, and frequently called. 
 Such ladies as were disposed to criminal indulgence, either to 
 gratify their passions or to increase their pecuniary resources, 
 found a friend in Mrs. Woodruff. Her correspondence was 
 extensive. Her acquaintance with the old roues and men of 
 wealth seemed almost incredible. 
 
 One of the most gifted, beautiful and fascinating ladies on 
 Mrs. Woodruff's list was Clara Norris. To her gentlemen cus- 
 tomers pious Mrs. Woodruff represented Clara as one of the
 
 VIGOR. - 259 
 
 most fashionable and virtuous young married ladies in the city. 
 She was the beautiful " Mrs. Sinclair," the accomplished "Mrs. 
 Percy," or the wealthy " Mrs. Jones,", as occasion served. 
 When Mrs. Woodruff wished to make a deep impression, and 
 had a wealthy man in tow, she would promise to introduce 
 " Mrs. Sinclair " to the party. " But you had better see her 
 first. I will get her to take a seat in my pew at Grace Church 
 next Sunday." Then the rich fool who was to be victimized 
 would watch the descent of the widow and Clara at the church 
 door next Sunday. He would see a young, and as he supposed 
 married lady, glowing with beauty, meekly entering a church 
 to pay her morning devotions. He could hardly believe it pos- 
 sible that his good fortune was so great as to be able to secure 
 so much beauty ; and when he went to Mrs Woodruff to make 
 his financial arrangements, the worthy would name as the price 
 of the interview, in consequence of the great risk, or the diffi- 
 culty of approaching the lady, who had plenty of money, or 
 some other cause, the sum of five hundred dollars for an inter- 
 view of an hour. She never named less than one hundred 
 dollars and whether the sum was the larger or the smaller 
 amount, or an intervening sum, the honest woman divided it 
 fairly with Clara Norris. * - 
 
 Clara was a great card for the widow, and the game between 
 them was played for a long time with such success, that Clara 
 would have been a constant visitor at the house, had not the 
 parties limited her acquaintance within bounds. Some of those 
 gentlemen who made her acquaintance wished it continued 
 from day to day, at even such enormous prices, but the prudent 
 and pious widow was made of sterner stuff her rule was made, 
 and it was as unalterable as the laws of the Medes and Per- 
 sians, which her minister read about and even the five hun- 
 dred dollar customer considered himself fortunate if he suc- 
 ceeded in seeing the fascinating syren more than once in a 
 fortnight. This game would have continued for years, had not 
 Clara herself finished it, by becoming a frequenter of houses 
 of ill-fame of the first class down towa. 
 
 In Duane street, No. 106, resided for a great many years a 
 most extraordinary female, of the name of Jane Graham, alias 
 Jane Graham West. It was the misfortune of Miss Norris to 
 become acquainted with this lady, whose memoirs would till a 
 book. At that time, her house was the first in New York. It 
 was visited by the most aristocratic, old and young, citizen or 
 stranger. The house is still standing a three story house, not 
 far from Broadway, on the North river side. In this den, in
 
 2 GO VIGOR. 
 
 one of the largest and most splendidly furnished apartments 
 in the house, was Clara Norris induced to take up her abode 
 for a long time. Her fame soon spread, and hundreds, yea 
 thousands visited the house for the purpose of seeing the ac- 
 complished and widely talked of Clara Norris. 
 
 The keeper of the house could play no tricks upon Clara 
 she was as shrewd as Jane Graham herself. She paid for her 
 board twenty-five dollars per week and the harvest left to 
 Mrs. Graham was the immense quantities of wines sold to the 
 visitors brought to the house to see Clara and the sums she 
 herself received were enormous. It was a gay life, and she 
 liked it ; and although she remained at the head of the first- 
 class ladies of Mrs. Woodruff's house, she did not like that 
 mode of life as well as the one she led with Mrs. Graham. 
 Clara Norris liked the society of the house where she lived. 
 She reigned a queen, and all bowed to her supremacy. She 
 thought that such a life would last forever but after six 
 months' residence in that establishment, she had a quarrel 
 with Mrs. Graham and left her. She then visited for a few 
 days her parents' home, and carried up with her savings bank 
 credits for a very large sum of money, obtained in the resi- 
 dence of Mrs. Graham, and from her occasional visits to Mrs. 
 Woodruff. She clearec? in this business in the space of nine 
 months over ten thousand dollars, and presents of jewelry that 
 almost equalled that amount She never varied from one pur- 
 pose. However careless or dissipated, she did not neglect 
 visits to the savings bank once a week, and the sums she de- 
 posited were never equalled by any woman of her class. She 
 invariably visited the bank alone, and kept her bankbook front 
 all eyes but her own. When she visited her father she showed 
 it to him, and sometimes would say, " Father, if ever I should 
 die, look out for this bank book, and claim it on call at the 
 bank, and claim it as my heir." Her prudent lawyer in New- 
 ton was informed of the amount she had in bank. He ex- 
 plained to her how much better it was to have it in a safer 
 way. She paid his expenses, and he came to New York. Un- 
 der his direction, she became the owner of two small brick 
 houses in one of the cross streets below Canal, that ran from 
 Broadway to the North river. 
 
 When the purchase of the houses had been completed, and 
 the deeds taken out in her name had been recorded, he took 
 them with him to Sussex, and deposited them in his iron safe. 
 The rents from these two houses was nine hundred dollars. 
 
 The worthy Jane Graham was very loth to part with Miss
 
 VIGOR. 2G1 
 
 Norris. " Better stay, Clara ; you are the best card I ever 
 bad in my house. I am rich I will leave you ray business, 
 and if I die, as I have no heirs, you shall be my heiress." 
 
 Clara turned a deaf ear to these proposals. Yet Jane Gra- 
 ham West could have made all good. She owned at that time 
 fifty thousand dollars in United States Bank stiick, and was 
 worth an equal sum in other property. She made it in lhat 
 business, and although she held on to her United States Bank 
 stock until it was worthless, yet she seemed no poorer. She 
 fell in love with a young mate of one of the Havre packet ships, 
 named Frederick Hewitt. He promised the old dame marriage, 
 and she bought him one-half of the ship Manhattan, and made 
 him captain of her. He refused to marry her after he became 
 a commander, and married a young lady in Mobile. Jane 
 Graham sued him for a breach of promise of marriage, and ono 
 of the most ridiculous law trials took place between these par- 
 ties that ever occurred in any country. The lady recovered 
 six cents damages, and the captain a ridiculous notoriety that 
 followed him to the grave. He did not live long afterwards, 
 and the lady, Jane Graham, after the loss of her United States 
 Bank stock, took it into her head that she was beggared, and 
 never held up her head more. She was abandoned by all of 
 her girls, and left alone in that large house, her only compan- 
 ion being a negro hag. 
 
 Jenny Graham was found strangled one morning. It was a 
 question whether the deed was done by the negro womun or by 
 Jenny herself ; but as the latter had frequently threatened to 
 put an end to her own life, the negress got the benefit of it. 
 Her two nephews turned up, and although they came into pos- 
 session of over sixty thousand dollars each, from Jenny's death, 
 and were miserably poor before it happened, yet the ungrateful 
 wretches boxed her up in a wooden coffin, and sent her with- 
 out expense to Potter's Field. Such was the end of a remark- 
 able woman, who for many years was a warm friend and a great 
 admirer of Clara Norris. 
 
 When Miss Norris returned from her home, after her quar- 
 rel w ; th Jane Graham, she made a short stay at the palace of 
 Mrs. Woodruff. But it was too gloomy for her more espe- 
 cially as she had now got a taste for a free and easy life. 
 
 " I must follow the bent of my inclinations, and I cannot 
 help it, good woman," was her reply to Mrs. Woodruff, who in 
 vain remonstrated with Clara Norris against her becoming a 
 public character. 
 
 " You will ruin yourself, body and soul. You will spoil
 
 262 VIGOR. 
 
 your market, iny beauty, and that will be the upshot of this 
 business," observed Mrs. Woodruff. 
 
 " Can't help it can't help it, if I die for it. 
 
 " ' There is a destiny that shapes our ends, 
 Rough hew them as we will,' 
 
 as Shakespeare says, and mine is fixed, Mrs. Woodruff. I 
 must pursue my own career." 
 
 And true enough, a few days after this conversation Miss 
 Norris was a resident in a house of a lower grade than that of 
 Jane Graham. She went to reside with Mrs. Miller, one of 
 the most extraordinaay women of her class in New York. 
 When Miss Norris went with her, the age of the old lady was 
 fast verging upon seventy years. 
 
 About this time Clara met the Count Falsechinski in the 
 street. He stopped, and politely accosted her. She gave him 
 her address " Mrs. Miller, No. 114 Church street." The 
 Count looked at it a moment. 
 
 " Good God, Miss Norris ! Are you in that house from ne- 
 cessity, or to please yourself?'' he asked. 
 
 " To gratify my own, curiosity, Count," she replied. " I 
 want to get acquainted with this woman. She is a study to 
 me. Do you know, Count, that she is the mother of Josephine 
 Clifton, the great actress? Do you know, also, that she is the 
 mother of Miss Missouri, that Hamlin is just bringing out, and 
 who promises to be equal in genius and talent to her splendid 
 sister, Josephine 1" 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Clara, I did not know it. But I must say 
 good-bye I will call and see you ere long ;" and the Count 
 passed on. 
 
 " Afraid to be seen speaking to me in the street," remarked 
 Miss Norris, after the Count's sudden departure. " Well, it 
 i.s the way of the world. I ought not to have expected differ- 
 ent treatment." 
 
 For some months Miss Norris was a resident of Mrs. Miller's, 
 but she found the old lady a miserly old woman, without one 
 redeeming feature. She became acquainted with one of her 
 sons named Nelson Miller, on whom the old woman lavished 
 her affections and her money. Clara became disgusted with 
 the old woman, and again made a removal, but this time it was 
 back to Mrs. Woodruff's, where we shall for the present leave 
 her.
 
 VIGOR. 263 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 Home tif Mr. Granville H'ippiness of the Young Cuupte. Mr. and Mrs, 
 BensonYoung B-nson Go<s into JBusiness Depressed State of Mind of 
 Miss Margaret Benson. 
 
 THE marriage of Middleton Benson to Isabella Granville, 
 although a very sudden affair, seemed to give the fathers of the 
 young couple the most unbounded satisfaction. Mr. Granville 
 gave up his house to the young people, and even went so far as 
 to deed to them all the costly furniture that it contained. 
 Colonel Benson was not behind hand. He made the bride the 
 most costly presents, and so far as household furniture was 
 concerned, he purchased a sufficient quantity to have started a 
 dozen new married couples in all necessary articles for house- 
 keeping. Spacious and roomy as was the old State street man- 
 sion, yet every room was crowded with furniture, and pre- 
 sented an odd mixture of old and new fashions. 
 
 The young couple appeared very happy. Isabella did not 
 seem to have lost any portion of her gaiety, and her laugh was 
 as merry and cheering as of old. Their appearance seemed to 
 confirm the father in his belief that all he had done had been 
 for the best. Middleton Benson, his son-in-law, had been ad- 
 mitted a partner into the commercial firm where he had been 
 so long a clerk, and his father retired from it, giving to his son 
 the interest and the capital that belonged to him as a partner. 
 Every few evenings the two fathers would meet, and over a 
 bottle or two of choice wine would congratulate themselves 
 upon the happy results of their proceedings. From Mrs. 
 Thomas Granville they had not heard except indirectly. She 
 was living with her aged grandmother, and long since had suc- 
 ceeded in obtaining from the Maryland Legislature an act 
 T/hich divorced her from her husband, but the departure of 
 Mrs. Granville had not altered Mr. Pitt Granville's domestic 
 arrangements. He never spoke of her to his daughter never 
 missed her. She had attempted to interfere with his domestic 
 purposes, and to use his own expressive sentence to Colonel 
 Benson, " I kicked her out of the house, and that is the end of 
 her so far as I am concerned."
 
 264 * VIGOR. 
 
 There was cue chosen old friend that Mr. Granville missed 
 sadly. It was Colonel Mac Neil. He even went so far as to 
 send a note to the Colonel, inviting him to renew his inti- 
 macy. The Colonel was poor, but he was a proud man. He 
 could not get over the fact that in the dire extremity to which 
 his .firm was reduced, Granville, his friend, had refused relief, 
 and at a moment so late that his failure was the consequence. 
 
 " It might have happened later," would the .Colonel reason, 
 " but then, that probability ought not to weigh in favor of 
 Granville's course. He did refuse me a small loan which he 
 had promised, and even if he had lost it all, what was that to 
 him ?" 
 
 The Colonel sternly resisted all overtures, and took no no- 
 tice of Mr. Granville's note, except to exhibit it to every mu- 
 tual friend that he met. Not only did Colonel Mac Neil refuse 
 to associate with Mr. Granville, but he also dropped all ac- 
 quaintance with Colonel Benson and his family, where he had 
 been a great favorite. His place, however, as a visitor at the 
 residence of Colonel Benson, was fully {supplied by Frank 
 Gaillard. He was a regular and a constant visitor, and Miss 
 Margaret rarely went out without being accompanied by her 
 lover, as he styled himself. The poor girl was completely 
 fascinated with this arch deceiver. She loved him with her 
 whole soul, and it was noticed by her mother, that from being 
 a lively and gay girl, she was frequently much depressed in 
 spirits and often found in tears. In vain did her mother seek 
 her confidence, and endeavor to fathom the cause of her wo. 
 Did she ask if Mr. Gaillard had told her that he loved her? 
 Margaret replied with the simple word " Yes." 
 
 "Has he proposed to marry you ?'" 
 
 The reply of the poor girl, with a deep drawn sigh, was 
 " No." 
 
 That was all that could be obtained from Margaret. The 
 mother felt that there was some thing wrong, and mentioned the 
 facts to her husband. The Colonel laughed at her. Called her 
 a silly, anxious old woman, and then forgot all about it. That 
 Frank Gaillard or any other white man alive, dared to dream 
 of doing him or any member of his family a deep wrong, never 
 entered into his brain. He conceived such a thing impossible. 
 Meanwhile, time passed along, and while poor Margaret Benson 
 drooped more and more, the young Southerner, Francis Gail- 
 lard, became less and less devoted to the sweet girl. From 
 being a daily visitor, he ceased to call but once a week. Then 
 once in two weeks, and at last his visits suddenly ceased, and
 
 VIGOR. - 265 
 
 the poor but proud spirited girl bent to the rod when she 
 learned that Mr. Gaillard had left New York for his home in 
 the South. She read his name among the passengers by a ves- 
 sel that had sailed for Charleston. Still, she spoke not to her 
 parents of the intense agony that his departure had caused. 
 She seemed stupified, and a few days after his departure she 
 called at the office of Mr. Granville, and asked to see him 
 alone. 
 
 " Certainly, my dear young lady, come at once in my private 
 office, and tell me what I can do for you. Some thing is on 
 your mind," kindly remarked Mr. GranTille. 
 
 Miss Benson followed him into the inner office, and when 
 she was seated she asked if he would confer a favor upon her 
 for a few days. 
 
 " And not mention it to my father, or any one of the fam- 
 ily ?" she imploringly inquired. 
 
 " If you do not wish me to do so," was the reply of her 
 father's friend Granville. 
 
 " I wish to borrow of you fifty dollars," said Miss Benson. 
 
 Mr. Granville replied, " With pleasure, immediately," and 
 walked into the front office and procured the money from the 
 cashier. He was frightened, and yet he did not know what to 
 say or what to do. Some thing was wrong. What could it 
 be ? Why did she not go to her father, mother, brother ? 
 Why come to him ? As he handed her the money, he pleas- 
 antly observed, " Really " but she shook her finger. 
 
 " No questions arc to be asked, and more than that, not a 
 word is to be said to my parents or any of my relations. I 
 shall see you this evening at our house, shall I not ?" 
 
 Mr. Granville bowed, and followed her to the door. When 
 she had left him, he sat down for several minutes to try and 
 fathom the mystery. The young lady went directly from Mr. 
 Granville's office to that of George Sutton, the agent of the 
 packet line. that plied between New York and Charleston, 
 There she inquired when the first vessel sailed for Charleston. 
 She was told that a ship would sail the next day, and she in- 
 stantly paid for the passage of a lady, and this accomplished, 
 and obtaining the exact hour when the ship would sail, she 
 wended her way home. That evening she was the gayest of 
 the gay. Early the next morning she sent a carpet bag to a 
 store in Broadway by a servant, saying that it was goods she 
 had purchased, but wished to return. About noon she dressed 
 herself as if for a walk went to the store, and took the carpet 
 bag. In the street she hired a porter, who took it on board 
 
 12
 
 266 VIGOR. 
 
 the ship, and she went on hoard and retired to her state-room. 
 That afternoon the vessel went down with the tide and a fair 
 hreeze and passed the Narrows. 
 
 When dinner time came Miss Benson was missed, but no 
 alarm was exerted in the minds of any of her relations. The 
 tea hour came, but no Margaret, and then the mother became 
 somewhat alarmed, but not seriously. So she sent a message 
 to Mr. Granville's house to have Miss Margaret come home. 
 Then her brother, Middleton Benson, came, and when he said 
 his sister had not been there that day, the whole house wa3 
 alarmed, and the utmost confusion prevailed. The male mem- 
 bers of the family started in different directions, but up to a 
 late hour that night no clue could be obtained of the missing 
 one. The next day the search was renewed, but with no more 
 success than had been obtained the previous day. When 
 Margaret was first missed, suspicion was attached to Francis 
 Gaillard, but his having departed for Charleston cleared him 
 in their minds. Mr. Granville did not mention for some time 
 the circumstance of her borrowing the fifty dollars. No sooner 
 had he mentioned this than the mother exclaimed, " Is it pos- 
 sible that she can have used that money to follow Gaillard to 
 Charleston ?" This started the pursuit on a new track. At 
 the office they found that a young lady had taken a passage in 
 the ship that had sailed for Charleston three days previous 
 The description answered to Margaret. " I will follow my 
 child in the next ship," exclaimed the agonized father and he 
 did so. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 The Riscalitif.s of Mr. O'Dowill- Hi* Experiinces among Boarding 
 Uov.se Keepers. 
 
 SOON after the Count Falsecninski had quarrelled with Ma- 
 dame Woodruff, that worthy lady turned her attentions toward 
 Mr. O'Doemall. fthe had seen that gentleman frequently in 
 company with Mrs. Parker, and admired his unparalleled im- 
 pudence. She invited him to escort her to church on Sunday 
 morning, and used him occasionally as a decoy. But the fact 
 was, she was afraid of him, for O'Doemall was boisterous a 
 loud talker and a great boaster. Mrs. Woodruff, on the contra- 
 ry, was as secret as the grave in all her transactions and if
 
 VIGOR. 267 
 
 she could have prevented her right hand from knowing what 
 the left hand was doing, would have done it. It can easily be 
 imagined that an alliance between two such opposite eharac- 
 .'ers would not last long. 
 
 Mr. O'Doernall was a great spendthrift, and when he could 
 no longer obtain funds from Mrs. Parker, and was thrown up- 
 on his own resources, he became very short of cash. Mrs. 
 Woodruff furnished him with an outfit, and Mr. O'Doemall 
 could again promenade Broadway the well-dressed gentleman, 
 and the observed of all Broadway observers. Mr. O'Doemall 
 was one of the most accomplished scamps that ever floated on 
 the fashionable scum in New York. A large portion of his 
 time was occupied in prowling about New York, seeking fe- 
 male victims. He had a keen eye, and could tell at a glance 
 such as would suit his purpose. He watched for them early 
 in the morning, and half the afternoon. Sometimes upon the 
 Battery, and oftener in St. John's Park, and the parks and 
 squares and places up town. 
 
 On one occasion he met a young and pretty girl in St. John's 
 Park. O'Doemall had procured a key that would open the 
 gates. He made bold to accost her, and discovered that she 
 was of English stock and while he apologized in the most 
 humble manner for his boldness in addressing her, yet he ma- 
 naged to throw in the announcement that he was an English 
 Captain, nephew to some English Peer, and that he was pass- 
 ing through the city on his way to join his regiment in Cana- 
 da. The young lady allowed him to escort her home, and then 
 introduced him to her father, who really was a half-pay officer 
 in the English service. Luckily for O'Doemall he was well 
 posted in the locality of the English regiments, and the names 
 of their officers, and for a long time was not detected. He 
 even went so far as to borrow a hundred dollars from the fa- 
 ther. 
 
 He made rapid advances in the affections of the young lady, 
 and the night rambles in St. John's Park, (one of the worst 
 assignation places and where more loveliness has been wrecked 
 than in any house of ill-fame in the city.) soon completed her 
 ruin. He then promised to marry her if she would leave home 
 and go with him to a small town on the New Jersey coast. She 
 consented, and the father became a broken-hearted man. He 
 followed the seducer to Canada, where he supposed he had 
 gone, and there met the real officer, whose name O'Doemall 
 had taken, and whose rank he had assumed, and learned how 
 grossly he had been deceived. But he could get no clue to
 
 268 VIGOR. 
 
 O'Doemall, xnd he went back to England. The instant 'Do- 
 ornail became aware of the fact, he brought his victim to New 
 York, placed her in a brothel, and then abandoned her forever. 
 She of course became a girl of the town at once, for she had 
 no other resource left. 
 
 It was not unfrequently that Mr. O'Doeiqall was turned out 
 of his hotel. He had used himself up in every prominent on 3 
 in the city. There was not one that he had not swindled. 
 Blancard once said that it was really a pleasure to be victim- 
 ized by him, as his explanation and apologies were " so very 
 funny and interesting." He managed to pay the rent of his 
 office in New street, so that if he was turned out of a hotel, 
 he could rally at his office. He would go there when thus 
 turned out, pack up two or more large trunks with bricks, 
 boards, and rubbish, hire a cartman, and tell him to drive to 
 some private boarding house. He had a list, and would select 
 one where it was not probable that he could be known. Once 
 in the bouse, he would select the most extravagant apart- 
 ments to be had, find fault with every thing, and play the rich 
 Southerner, or any other character which he had adopted. 
 
 A glance at the parties assembled around the dining-room 
 table would serve to convey to O'Doemall the peculiarities of 
 any person present. His conversation, dress, and impudence, 
 w.ould sweep down all opposition. Then he would, before 
 twenty-four hours had passed, ingratiate himself fully with 
 the landlady, and if she had one or two daughters his game 
 was secure. He would notice that one daughter was receiving 
 the attentions of a young man boarding in the house. O'Do- 
 emall would boldly say to the young lady, " Miss, I am aston- 
 ished that you associate with or permit the attentions of that 
 young man. I tell you this in confidence, for I am a warm 
 friend of your mother ; but this young man (he must have 
 been drunk, I think) told me in confidence last night that he 
 had no idea of marrying you, because he slept with you fre- 
 quently, without any such ceremony." To the youth in ques- 
 tion, O'Doemall hud previously told him that the landlady saw 
 through him, and had said that he " was trying to marry her 
 daughter in order to sponge out his board bill." 
 
 These barefaced assertions would quickly make Pandemoni- 
 um of the most pious boarding houses in the city and if Mr. 
 O'Doemall was ever called upon for any explanation, he would 
 face the music, and declare the assertions had been made to 
 him by the parties themselves. If he accidentally met the 
 wife of any rather weak-minded boarder in the street alone,
 
 VIGOR. 269 
 
 O'Doemall would hurry down to the gentleman's place of 
 business, beg him not to get angry, as he only wished to say 
 that he saw his wife entering such a house with such a cler- 
 gyman, (if there was one boarding in the house,) and that he 
 the husband had better look into the matter. The house would 
 be some private assignation house, and O'Doemall knew every 
 one in the city. 
 
 A month would generally raise particular Ned in the board- 
 ing house, if it had not nearly ruined it, and the mischief-ma- 
 ker would be the powerful adviser of all the belligerents, and 
 the particular friend of the landlady. If he was called upon 
 for money, he had a hundred excuses ready, but he generally 
 contrived to make such a scene of confusion in the house, that 
 money was unthought of. When his game was nearly played 
 out, after living on the fat of the land for four or six months, 
 and landlady and boarders were loud in their execrations, and 
 anxious to get rid of him at any price, Doeinall would deter- 
 mine to leave a sting behind which should prove a deadly one. 
 If it was at dinner, he would rise and say, " Ladies and gen- 
 tlemen, I am forced to leave this house. It is extremely un- 
 pleasant for me to remain here longer. The pious landlady 
 has made a statement that I am in arrears for board. What 
 will you think when I tell you that I have let her have ten, 
 twenty, and fifty dollars at a time ? She has come to my bed 
 night after night for months, and now she says that she is in a 
 delicate situation that I am the author, of her misfortune, 
 and wants me to marry her. Of course I shall do nothing of 
 the kind I will leave the house first." 
 
 The landlady would generally faint at such an infamous 
 charge, and the daughters would scream. The boarders would 
 be perfectly aghast, and some believe it, and the lying scoun- 
 drel would walk out in triumph. No one would take it up. 
 The very enormity of the charge would make the innocent ob- 
 jects of it quail, and exhibit all the terror of real guilt. Or 
 perhaps it would be a landlady who in a moment of weakness 
 had become a victim to this arch deceiver ; he would then live 
 on her for weeks and months, borrow all her earnings, and not 
 leave until he had ruined and broken up her establishment. 
 
 Mr. O'Doemall in a quiet boarding house could only be re- 
 presented by a fierce, unrelenting hawk, quartered in a barn- 
 yard surrounded by a peaceful lot of roosters, hens, and differ- 
 ent sized chickens. It was all one side ; the poor domestic 
 fowls stood no sort of chance. 
 
 In his business, no one could get any hold of him. His of-
 
 270 VIGOR. 
 
 fice or store rent was cheap, and that he paid promptly. He 
 had a handsome business card, and he paid two dollars and a 
 half a thousand for them. These alone gave him respectabili- 
 ty and position with strangers, for who could gainsay it 1 He 
 could be found at his store ; and many a tailor, shoemaker, dry 
 goods dealer, and tradesman, was victimized to a greater or 
 less extent. He owed all. But those who sued, made costs 
 for themselves. His very furniture in the office could not, be 
 disturbed, for it was mortgaged to the landlord. The only 
 way for his victim was to laugh, for O'Doemall did find associ- 
 ates with gentlemen, and particularly among English noble- 
 men or gentry, and he would take these persons to shops that 
 he knew, and owed money to. 
 
 His malice was intense and fearful. He made a purchase of 
 some wine of one of the most sturdy merchants in the city. 
 This man was a member of Dr. Spring's church. He refused 
 to let him have the wine until he paid for it. The swindler 
 swore vengeance. Unluckily the merchant left New York on 
 a visit of some weeks' duration. O'Doemall managed to put 
 himself in the way of all this merchant's acquaintance, and as 
 if by Accident, mentioned his regret that so fine an old mer- 
 chant should be so sorely afflicted that he visited him once a 
 month in the Bloomingdale asylum, where he was confined as 
 a madman. 
 
 No matter who starts such a story as this, where there is a 
 shadow of foundation, it runs like Greek fire, and is very 
 speedily so extensively spread, that in a large city it cannot 
 be traced to the real author. O'Doemall was revenged the 
 story flew among the business acquaintances of the merchant, 
 and he was ruined. When he returned, he did not know what 
 had hurt him, for few like to tell a supposed madman that they 
 are aware of his having been in a mad-house. 
 
 This bad man, as bold as he was wicked, had, as our readers 
 will remember, formed an early intimacy with most of those 
 who were connected with the firm of Granville and Nordheim. 
 He knew Marion Monck, but that young man had cut his ac- 
 quaintance after the shirt story affair. But O'Doemall was 
 not one to be easily cut, and no insult could prevent his recog- 
 nizing one he had once known. 
 
 He ascertained that Marion was sick and confined to his 
 room in Nassau street where Mr. Bennett lodged ; he called, 
 was admitted, and presented himself in Marion's room, where 
 he was Iving upon a sick mat 's bed.
 
 VIGOR. 271 
 
 How d'ye do ? heard you were ilj. Come to see you, 
 and if I can be of any service to you," said he. 
 
 Marion replied that he was glad to see him. So he was, and 
 so he would have been to have seeu any one who could relieve 
 and pass away the weary sick hours. O'Doeruall continued to 
 be a frequent visitor at the sick room. Once or twice he 
 watched all night. Other friends called Colonel Mac Neil 
 was among the number, and when he learned that O'Doemall 
 had been so kind, even he was disposed to overlook his owing 
 him money, and renewed the acquaintance. 
 
 No one knew the extent of O'Doetnall's rascality. All be- 
 lieved him a bad fellow, but perhaps not worse than many oth- 
 ers : and when he himself related some of his most villanous 
 stories, his hearers had the charity to believe he was lying, 
 and only told such tales to please the company. Such was 
 not the fact. 
 
 The effect of renewing his acquaintance with O'Doemall, 
 both upon Marion and Mac Neil, will form matter for another 
 chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 J/t.* Bfnson arrives KT/ ' ly in Charleston Calls n n Madame Gaillard, the 
 Mother if Frank, It-r Loner- Tills her S ory Th MotLe.r conveys Aliss 
 Btnson to her Plantation at St. John's Yotiny Gail lard in Sick Hit 
 Marriage with Aliss B n-on -The Arrival of Col nel Benson His Satis- 
 faction, and Departure Birth of a Son JJeath of Francis Gaillard. 
 
 THE passage of the ship that; conveyed Miss Benson to 
 Charleston was a remarkably short and pleasant one. To say 
 that the fair traveller did not undergo the usual tax of sea- 
 sickness, would be untrue. She suffered greatly, but her stern 
 and determined purpose kept up her spirits, and when she 
 reached port, she was ready to go on shore the moment the 
 vessel in which she had been a passenger reached the dock or 
 wharf. She was astonished at her own coolness and courage, 
 for she was not aware that she possessed these qualities. Her 
 baggage was easily carried, and she hired one of the sailors to 
 carry her carpet bag, and to conduct her to the Planters' Hotel. 
 As soon as she found herself settled, she sent for the landlord, 
 and begged him to ascertain whether Mrs. Gaillard was in 
 town, and if not, whether she was at one of her plantations, 
 and which one. The answer was favorable. Mrs. Gaillard
 
 272 VIGOR. 
 
 was in town. Miss Benson at once ordered a carriage, and in 
 it proceeded to the town residence of the mother of her lover. 
 
 Her visit occasioned some surprise ; but when she stated 
 her parentage, the circumstances under which she left New 
 York, her attachment to young Gaillard, and at last informed 
 her of the deep wrong her son had done her, and that she was 
 soon to become a mother, and that her long journey had been 
 undertaken in order to save the honor of her unborn child 
 his child, all the good in that mother's nature was thoroughly 
 roused. She placed her in a room sent to the hotel, paid the 
 bill, and had the carpet bag brought to her own house. 
 
 " I believe all that you have stated every word of it. My 
 son shall do you justice, and that too immediately, or I am no 
 longer his mother. We will start for the plantation this very 
 afternoon. Frank is sick, and I feel alarmed about him. Now 
 lie down, and make yourself perfectly at ease. You require 
 rest and quiet, and I will soon send my daughter to you," said 
 the mother. 
 
 Miss Benson was overcome, and she flung herself upon her 
 knees by the bedside, and poured forth sincere thanks to God 
 for his kindness and care. Then she laid down upon the bed, 
 and soon fell asleep. 
 
 In the mean time, Mrs. Gaillard had informed her daughter 
 who the visitor was, and her purpose in coining to Charleston. 
 The young lady was prepared to receive her as a si.ster. 
 
 " What a cruel wrong Frank has done to her ! mother, 
 who could have thought that my brother would have been 
 guilty of such an infamous thing ? I never will forgive him 
 until he makes wrong right, by marrying this sweet girl. Will 
 he do it, Mamma, dear, do you think ?" 
 
 There was a stern contraction of the haughty brow of that 
 stately mother, and a quivering of the lips, as she replied, 
 
 " He will, darling, or " but the threat remained un- 
 spoken, and she continued. " Go, my child, to the apartment 
 of Miss Benson. If she is asleep do not wake her to misery, 
 liemain by her bedside, and comfort her when she awakes." 
 
 The Southern beauty did as her mother directed, and when 
 Margaret Benson WOKC from a short sleep, and exclaimed 
 " Where am I ?" her bands were seized by the affectionate 
 Miss Gaillard, and she pressed her lips, as she exclaimed, 
 
 " With those who will love you for your own sake, and who 
 will try and make that naughty brother of mine give you a legal 
 title to our love. Now try and sleep again." 
 
 The nest day after Miss Benson found a loine in the resi-
 
 VIGOR. 273 
 
 dence of Mrs. Gaillard, that lady, her daughter, and the New 
 York arrival were packed in a travelling carriage and on their 
 way to the plantation. They arrived about the middle of the 
 afternoon, and as the carriage turned off from the State road 
 into a long avenue, each side of which was ornamented by a 
 row of stately live oaks, Miss Benson almost fainted. How 
 was she to be received by her lover ? At last the carriage 
 drove up in front of the old stone mansion. Troops of negroes 
 of all sizes and ages poured out to meet " Ole Missus." 
 
 " Where is your master, Tommy 1" demanded Mrs. Gaillard 
 of an aged gray-headed negro. 
 
 " Massa Frank gone down to de creek fishin'," was the reply. 
 
 " That is all. I am very glad of that," said Mrs. Gaillard, 
 addressing those in the carriage. " I shall have time to con- 
 verse with him before he is aware of the arrival of Miss Ben- 
 son." 
 
 The occupants of the carriage entered the mansion, and Miss 
 Benson was speedily shown to a room Miss Gaillard accom- 
 panied her thither, and as she assisted her to change her 
 dress, she endeavored to soothe the agitation of the stranger, 
 and to give her every encouragement. 
 
 " You must not leave your room, dear Miss Margaret, until 
 Mamma has had a serious talk with our gay deceiver of a bro- 
 ther. I have never seen Mamma so decided and so angry,'' 
 said Miss Gaillard. 
 
 "0,1 hope, dear Miss Gaillard, that my arrival will not be 
 the means of causing discord in your peaceful family. If I 
 thought so, I should wish I had never left New York/' replied 
 Miss Benson. 
 
 " Give yourself no uneasiness. If there is a storm it will 
 soon be over, and a clear sky will follow. I pray God that my 
 brether will be convinced by Mamma of the necessity of doing 
 what is right in this unhappy affair," replied Miss Gaillard. 
 
 " Amen," was all the reply that Miss Benson could make. 
 
 A few moments only elapsed, when Mr. Francis Gaillard 
 was seen coming up the long avenue through which the car- 
 riage had just passed. He was extremely pale, walked very 
 slow, and had every appearance of suffering from severe ill- 
 ness. His mother went out upon the piazza, and when he en- 
 tered, cordially embraced him. 
 
 " Are you better, my son ?" 
 
 " I really do not know. I think I am stronger, but at times, 
 Mother, I get discouraged, and feel that i shall never be any 
 
 12*
 
 274 VIGOR. 
 
 better. But what has brought you back from Charleston in 
 such a hurry ?" he asked. 
 
 " That, my dear son, I will tell you presently. Meanwhile, 
 come into the sitting-room," she said kindly. 
 
 Young Graillard followed his mother, and they were alone. 
 Mrs. Graillard spoke. 
 
 " Francis, will you come and sit down by me ]" 
 
 He complied. 
 
 11 Now inform me, my son, of every fact connected with your 
 acquaintance and conduct to a young lady in New York, whose 
 name is Margaret Benson/' 
 
 " Mother, what do you know about her,,. and why do you ask 
 me for information ?" asked Francis, excitedly. 
 
 " My son, answer my questions as if you were in the pre- 
 sence of your Grod. But for her attachment to you, was this 
 young lady a virtuous girl ?" 
 
 " As the fallen snow. I only led her into sin," was the 
 honest reply. 
 
 " Are her parents of respectability ?" asked the mother. 
 
 " Unquestioned. Equal to my parents in every regard," 
 replied the son. 
 
 " Then how could you be so base as to ruin her ?" 
 
 " I, Mother 1 But why should I deceive you, Mother ? I 
 have acted like a rascal. How you came to know anything 
 about the matter I will not stop to ask. I feel the deepest 
 remorse in reference to that young lady. If ever woman loved 
 man, she loved me," was the truthful reply of the son. 
 
 " And yet you could deliberately abandon her in the deli- 
 cate situation to which you had brought her 1" 
 
 " I, my mother ? What do you mean ?" he asked. 
 
 " She is shortly to become a mother a mother to your child ! 
 
 Frank, Frank !" said the mother. 
 
 " Mother, I will return to New York, and do her full justice. 
 
 1 will marry her, if she will consent to marry such a wretch 
 as me," said Francis. 
 
 " My son, she is here in this house. She has alone fol- 
 lowed you on from New York, for the sake of her child." 
 
 " Not a word more, mother. I will see her at once ;" and 
 before Mrs. Graillard could arrest his speech, Francis Gaillard 
 found his way to the apartment of Miss Benson. The meeting 
 between the two young persons was affecting in the highest 
 degree. Poor Margaret, when she listened to the first bursts 
 of repentant words from Frank, was overwhelmed with happi- 
 neas. It was long ere she could find words to reply to his
 
 VIGOR. 275 
 
 extravagant fondness. " Thank God tbat you had the nervo 
 to come South, dear Margaret ! You shall not regret it. I 
 will marry you without any delay, and at least the little one 
 promised to us shall make its advent under more auspicious 
 circumstances than I deserve. Cheer up ! I go to hold coun- 
 sel with my good-hearted old mother," exclaimed the lover. 
 
 Frank Gailiard went to the mother, and told her all his plans. 
 She listened quietly, .and finally replied, 
 
 " My son, I ain rejoiced at discovering a disposition on your 
 part to repair the wrong that you have committed against the 
 peace of a young lady of such respectability ; but the matter 
 must be settled quietly, and without any noise. I can arrange 
 yoar marriage so that no question will ever be raised in regard 
 to the legitimacy of your child." 
 
 The old lady sent a note to Dr. Wallace, the rector of tho 
 Episcopal Church, within a few miles of their residence. The 
 ceremony of the marriage was performed that evening. A 
 certificate of the marriage was given, and a corresponding en- 
 try made in the record book of the Parish Church. What mat- 
 tered that it was dated six months earlier than the day when 
 the marriage rites were celebrated ? It ought to have been 
 celebrated six mouths earlier, and who should ever study for 
 proof to the contrary 1 The good doctor believed he was do- 
 ing right, and when asked for a duplicate certificate, he wil- 
 lingly gave it. 
 
 This duplicate Francis Graillard intended to send to Colonel 
 Benson with an explanatory letter, but he delayed writing it 
 until he himself should go to Charleston. Meanwhile, the fair 
 Miss Benson was presented to all as Mrs. Francis Gaillard. 
 The marriage was kept a profound secret ; no one of the do- 
 mestics dreamed of such a thing. The only witnesses to tho 
 ceremony were the mother and the sister. 
 
 Before a week elapsed, the family was startled by another 
 arrival. They were just sitting down to dinner when a car- 
 riage drove up the Live Oak Avenue. It contained Colonel 
 Benson. He sprang out of the carriage, and had reached the 
 top of the steps leading to the mansion, when his daughter 
 flung herself into his arms. 
 
 " Oh, dear Papa, how glad I am to see you, and so will my 
 husband be." 
 
 " Husband !" and he held her at arm's length while he re- 
 peated that single word " Husband !" 
 
 " Yes, dear Papa. Husband ; for Mr. Gaillurd is my hus-
 
 27 () VIGOR. 
 
 band, and I will tell you all about it, Papa, but not now. Here 
 is Frank." 
 
 Mr. Gaillard offered his hand to Colonel Benson. It was 
 barely touched by the latter. 
 
 " When I hear all, perhaps I shall be more cordial," he ob- 
 served, coldly. 
 
 He followed his daughter and her husband, and then was in- 
 troduced to Madame Gaillard. If the latter was pleased at 
 meeting the stately and gentlemanly father of her daughter-in- 
 law, the Colonel was no less pleased with the magnificent old 
 lady, the mother of his daughter's husband. 
 
 " You have arrived just in time for dinner, Colonel Benson. 
 I need not add how welcome you are," she observed. 
 
 " Many thanks, dear madam, but I am afraid that my pres- 
 ence here has occasioned you some surprise. I confess that I 
 arrived here with far different purposes than to eat a friendly 
 dinner," said Colonel Benson. 
 
 " No o*ne could be more welcome than the father of my son's 
 wife. I hope we shall be able to make your visit a most 
 agreeable one," said Mr. Gaillard. 
 
 " The first words spoken by my child have relieved my mind 
 of a load of agony and anxiety," replied the Colonel. 
 
 An excellent dinner was partaken of, and when it was fin- 
 ished Madame Gaillard advised the young couple to go and 
 walk. Then she dismissed the servants in attendance. When 
 she was alone with the Colonel, she deliberately requested him 
 to listen to her explanations. She informed him of the arrival 
 of his daughter in Charleston, and her surprise and anxiety of 
 her bringing his daughter home and the marriage. When she 
 spoke of the maternal situation of his daughter, the Colonel was 
 dumbfounded. Then he told him of the delicate manner in 
 which the marriage had been managed, and handed him the 
 marriage certificate. 
 
 " It will probably be some two or three months before my 
 daughter-in-law's confinement. Then if God wills that no acci- 
 dent happens, there never can arise cavil or flaw in the pro- 
 ceedings. Bear in mind, Colonel Benson, that we had to 
 make a wrong right, and out of evil to get good. I, too, am 
 more interested in having our large possessions go to an un- 
 questioned legal descendant, than you possibly can be. Now, 
 are you satisfied ?" 
 
 " Madam, I have no words to express my gratitude. If I 
 had a hundred lives, they should all be yours. You have in-
 
 VIGOR. 277 
 
 deed acted nobly, generously, and how can I repay it ?" said 
 Colonel Benson, warmly. 
 
 " Simply, Colonel, by treating your son-in-law and your 
 daughter as though nothing irregular had happened make no 
 allusion to it. The parish record and the marriage certificate, 
 and the entry of the birth of the first born child will tell all the 
 story in future times, should it ever need to be told. Intro- 
 duce the bride as an old married lady, or at least as having 
 been married so many months ago as to have ceased being a 
 novelty to talk about, and the world, that is so fond of scandal, 
 need have nothing to say. We have only to keep our own 
 counsel. The members of my family will keep theirs. When 
 you get to New -York, an equally prudent course on your part 
 will be productive of equally happy results," replied Madame 
 Gaillard. 
 
 " You arc a lady of a thousand. I agree with every word 
 you have uttered. As soon as I reach New York, I will give 
 out that your son was privately married to my daughter before 
 her family knew any thing about it, and that the young lady 
 followed her husband to the South, where she now is." 
 
 " And where, Colonel Benson, she must remain for one or 
 two years. I say this for the sake of the child that I hope will 
 prove a grandson, and be a blessing to my old age. When the 
 babe reaches a few months old, then my daughter-in-law can 
 visit the North with safety, so far as important questions arc 
 concerned." 
 
 " Again you are right, lady," observed Colonel Benson. 
 " And I must add that few parents will enjoy a sounder and 
 more refreshing sleep than I shall to-night. My mind is com- 
 pletely at ease. I have been extremely worried for many 
 days." 
 
 " I can readily understand that, sir, but you will have no 
 further cause of embarrassment. My son is rich, and Margaret 
 has made a good match, so far as wealth is concerned. My 
 son has been wild, but I hope that will pass away, and that he 
 will be a good, kind husband. I regret to say that his health 
 is far from good since his return from the North, and there are 
 moments when my fears get the better of me. We must hope 
 for the best," said the mother. 
 
 This was news to Colonel Benson, but when he closely exam- 
 ined the countenance of his son-in-law, and contrasted his 
 present feeble appearance with what he had know him in New 
 York, he, too, partook of the alarm, and suggested to the elder 
 Mrs. Gaillard, as his opinion, that medical advice of a high
 
 278 VIGOR. 
 
 character be resorted to at once. Colonel Benson wrote that 
 evening to his wife in New York. He simply informed her 
 thut he was well, and that Magaret had been secretly married 
 to Mr. Gaillard, and that she was quite an old married dame 
 when he reached her. He cautioned his wife against saying 
 much about the matter until his return to New York. After 
 despatching this, the Colonel felt completely happy, and gave 
 himself up fully to his enjoyment. He fished, hunted, and rode 
 about the neighborhood, making the acquaintance of the princi- 
 pal planters in that vicinity. After a fortnight spent in this 
 manner, he could not be contented to remain longer, but took 
 his departure for Charleston, and from thence sailed for New 
 York. 
 
 After the departure of her father, the young wife devoted 
 herself to her husband. His health failed daily, but still, he 
 was not regarded as in great danger. It was resolved that he 
 should take a voyage to the West Indies, but the interesting 
 situation of his lovely wife prevented. Weeks passed away, 
 and then she gave birth to a child. It was a boy, and was 
 christened Francis Benson Gaillard. When Mrs. Gaillard had 
 recovered sufficient strength, after her confinement, to travel, 
 it was discovered that Francis could not make a journey, and 
 he made up his mind to remain at home and abide the fate, 
 which was now evident 
 
 He lived but a few weeks after the birth of his son, and then 
 his spirit went to another world, and his wife was a young 
 widow. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI1I. 
 
 Editor Bennett of the. Herald -Marion filonckfalls in loi'e A boat upsets 
 lie Kives his own life, and the /*> of hix rotitfxinions by swi/iiminy ashore 
 Tim Herald's account of the affair Mr. Jo/us, the father, dtclin-s all 
 further acquaintance with Mr. Mt^nclc. 
 
 IT would seem almost an impossibility for Marion Monck to 
 be on the same floor with the editor of the Herald, and in the 
 habit of meeting and conversing with him every day, without 
 imbibing a certain quantity of the spirit that animated the 
 editor in a new era in journalism 
 
 On one occasion he had been traversing an upper street of 
 the city when he found himself in the midst of a riot. He saw 
 the whole of it. A man was killed. Marion went home, and,
 
 VIGOR. 279 
 
 as it was a matter of news of some moment, he went into Mr 
 Bennett's room and narrated the whole ot it to him. " Excel- 
 lent," said the editor. " I am really much obliged to you. 
 Add to the favor by writing down what you have already told 
 me, and I will publish it in the morning's issue. It will make 
 a capital article, and you have related it in excellent style." 
 
 Marion took a pen, and after some hesitation wrote an account 
 of the affair. Mr. Bennett read it and then exclaimed, " Bah, 
 what trash !" fc 
 
 " Why, what is the matter with it, Mr. Bennett ?" 
 
 " The matter is that you have not written it at all as you 
 told it. You have attempted to improve upon it, and bungled 
 it all up. You have got the cart before the horse. As you 
 related it to me it was excellent. This writing of yours is 
 nonsense. I shall have to write it all over again from my own 
 recollection of what you have told me, in ordej to make a 
 readable article. There is not one person in five hundred of 
 those who claim to be editors or writers, that can write an 
 editorial as it should be written. An editorial, Master Marion, 
 should have a beginning, a middle, and an end. An editorial 
 should have an object. a point. If a man happened to fall 
 into a sink because there was no cover to it, and an editor 
 wanted to call the attention of the authorities to the neglect, 
 and consequent injury, the occurrence of the man falling should 
 be related plainly, and as it occurred ; then state the danger to 
 others from this neglect ; and lastly, point out the way to mend 
 all further accidents by covering the hole up with a stone or a 
 piece of marble or an iron top. It is a common simile, but it 
 answers as well as a better one. You write what a shame it is 
 that rows are allowed to occur, and then tell that a row has 
 occurred, and a man has been killed. But don't get discour- 
 aged ; you may not think so, but one day you will be able to 
 write a clever editorial, which is the highest style of composition 
 known," said Mr. Bennett, encouragingly. 
 
 Such conversations frequently occurred between the editor 
 and Marion Monck. But such was the low estimate that Marion 
 had at that time of the destiny of the Herald, that though ho 
 had not a cent, if Mr. Bennett had offered him an equal part- 
 nership, he would have declined the offer. Marion, however, 
 did not underrate the ability of the editor. He discovered 
 then that clear-headed ability, that careful thought, vivid 
 imagination and ready wit which has since been developed, but 
 which great body of his readers have never given Mr. Bennett 
 credit for. He possessed a winning way with young people,
 
 280 VIGOR. 
 
 and had a happy faculty of drawing them out. Marion was 
 somewhat susceptible in love matters. He had not suffered 
 quite enough with the affair of Miss Isabella Granville, but 
 some months after became violently in love with a rich bank- 
 er's daughter. The name of the father was Jones. Marion got 
 introduced to her, and accompanied her to church on one or 
 two occasions. The father was excessively pious, and so was 
 the daughter. The old Jones abominated theatres, and con- 
 sidered a Sabbath-breaker as out of the pale of any sort of sal- 
 vation. Marion was on the free list of almost every theatre, 
 and was cheek by jowl with every actor and actress of any note 
 upon the New York boards. In regard to the Sabbath, after 
 the acquaintance commenced with Miss Euphenia Jones, he 
 was very regular in his attendance at the same church where 
 she worshipped. Unfortunately, on one occasion three young 
 gentlemen persuaded him to accompany them in a White Hail 
 boat to a place in the lower bay. It was Sunday. All went 
 on very well until they attempted to return to the city in the 
 afternoon. The wind came out from the north-west, and blew 
 a stiff breeze. It was night before they beat up to within some 
 distance of the Narrows. The tide was at ebb. A sudden fl.w 
 of wind capsized their frail boat, and they were all immersed 
 into the water. All succeeded in getting upon the keel of the 
 boat, and their united weights sunk down the boat so low that 
 the water nearly reached the necks of these young men. Upon 
 comparing notes it was found that but one could swim. That 
 one was Marion. They were a mile or two from the shore, and 
 floating out rapidly to sea. There was but little chance of be- 
 ing picked up by inward bound vessels, for the wind was 
 ahead, and all such, of course, would come to an anchor. Un- 
 der these appalling circumstances, Marion, with great gal- 
 lantry, offered to swim ashore and get aid. One of the young 
 men was an acquaintance of Marion's new flame. His name 
 was Robert Knight, and his uncle was governor of the little 
 State of Rhode Island. Marion stripped off every rag of 
 clothes, and after he had bade all good bye, he said to young 
 Knight, " Bob, dear Bob, should I be drowned, remember me, 
 for God's sake, to Phecney Jones." 
 
 After a terrible time, Marion succeeded in reaching the 
 Long Island shore. He ran up directly to a private residence 
 situated high up on the shore. He forgot his nude state, and 
 rushed into the parlor, where the family were congregated, and 
 among them a number of young ladies. Their screams were 
 fearful, but nothing daunted, Marion seized a caudle-stick and
 
 VIGOR. 2S1 
 
 rushed back to the shore. He had told his story, and luckily 
 a negro overheard and understood it. He asked Marion for 
 particulars, and without a word went down to a boat belonging 
 to the house, and rowed off to rescue the sufferers. He was 
 just in time, and he succeeded in getting all into the boat, 
 bringing them ashore and conveying them to his own humble 
 cottage. Then commenced a search for Marion. They found 
 him senseless at the foot of a cliff, with the candle and caudle- 
 stick beside him. He had fallen through a tree which grew at 
 the foot of the rock, and this had saved his life. The negro 
 furnished the party with old clothes, and at midnight they left 
 htm and walked to New York. It was near daylight when 
 they crossed the Fulton ferry. That day three of the party 
 took a carriage and went down to the spot. They fuund the 
 negro, and made him a present of a hundred dollars in silver. 
 Marion contributed his share, but he was too ill to go with his 
 companions. He lay upon his bed, and a medical man was 
 called in. The affair got wind, and the afternoon papers of 
 that day had a long article upon the matter. They gave credit 
 to Marion for his gallantry in saving the lives of his compan- 
 ions, but one of the Journals, the ' Commercial Advertiser," 
 stated that it was " Sunday," and that God would have acted 
 perfectly right if he had drowned the whole party. That even- 
 ing Mr. Bennett called in to see his sick friend Marion, and 
 he, too, congratulated him upon the gallant act. 
 
 " Curse that commercial newspaper. They take that paper. 
 Sunday. My cake is all dough now," exclaimed Marion, very 
 petulantly. 
 
 " What is the matter ? Tell me all about it. I will put it 
 straight in my paper in the morning. Let ine have all the 
 facts," said the editor. 
 
 Marion narrated them, and added, " Of course it was very 
 natural, that with a good show for being drowned, I sent a 
 message by Bob, in case he got picked up, to Miss Jones." 
 
 " She ought to be obliged to you, very much so," said the 
 editor. 
 
 The next morning Marion sent out early to get a Herald. 
 When he opened it, there was the article headed " Narrow Es- 
 eape from Drowning. Gallant, Behavior of Marion Monck." 
 Marion read on all pleasant praised him up told the whole 
 thing pretty fairly, but. all at once his face became a foot and a 
 half long, and he rushed into Mr. Bennett's room. 
 
 " Why, what is the matter 1" exclaimed the editor. 
 
 14 You have ruined me. I am a dead man. Look here :"
 
 282 VIGOR. 
 
 and he read, " ' Bob, dear Bob, should I be drowned, remember 
 me, for God's sake, to Phecney Jones." 1 That is my death-war- 
 rant." 
 
 " But Marion, you don't mean to say that Jones, Pheeney 
 Jones, is the real name of your flame ?" 
 
 " Of course it is. Old Jones the banker's daughter. One 
 of the vestry of Trinity Church. Sunday, too ! You also say 
 that I was ' engaged and shortly t> be married to that young 
 female to whom he sent a dying message.' It is no such thing. 
 O, it will play Ned with me !" 
 
 " On the contrary, my dear boy, you are not responsible for 
 what appears in the Herald. You don't say that you were 
 engaged, it is the Herald that says so. Throw the blame upon 
 the Herald. As for Miss Jones, I will print another edition, 
 and say it was Miss Smith, and you can send her a copy ; al- 
 though I think she ought to be extremely flattered that a tal- 
 ented fellow, a gallant chap like you should think of her, when 
 he expects to be drowned shortly, eh ? Look at it in that way." 
 
 " 0, that is all very fine, Mr. Bennett, to talk. No matter 
 what she thinks. If it had been any other day than Sunday, 
 it would have been all right. But her lather Jehu ! Sunday, 
 eh ! I'll go up to the house of Mr. Jones this evening, and 
 know the worst." 
 
 Evening came, and Marion did as he stated he would do. 
 He went around to Ann street to the Herald office. When he 
 saw Mr. Bennett, the latter observed, 
 
 " Well, Marion, what success ?" 
 
 " I could not get in. The servant, a grinning negro, handed 
 me this note. Just read it." 
 
 " Taefday Even ng. 
 
 " SIR I have to beg that you will no longer consider yourself an ac- 
 quaintance of mine or of my family, and I have given orders that you 
 never be admitted inside my doors. My daughter Euphenia joins me in 
 these sentiments. We both'regard you as a Sabbath-breaker of the worst 
 kind. The Lord evidently kept you from being drowned in order that 
 you may repent. Hoping you may do so 
 
 I am, respectfully, PETER JONES." 
 
 " Of course you will publish it. Give him as good as he 
 sends. Let me write an article about it. He will regret the 
 longest day he lives that he ever sent you that note," ex- 
 claimed Mr. Bennett, reaching out his haiyl for the note. 
 
 " O Lord, no ! I could not think of such a thing. It would 
 ruin me with the girl." 
 
 " You have notliing more to hope for in that quarter, if you 
 put up with such a thing. It is a shame but never mind if
 
 VIGOR. 283 
 
 you don't choose to take my advice, you are no worse off for 
 my having offered it," said Mr. Bennett. 
 
 It was in those days actually considered a horrible matter to 
 get into a newspaper. Marion so regarded it. Not so Mr. 
 Bennett. He regarded those matters which became talked of 
 among a set or circle, as legitimate articles for a newspaper. 
 So they were ; and now, that the ice is broken, half the people 
 in the land are only too anxious to get their names into the 
 newspapers, attached to anything. All seek notoriety. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 Mrs. Wil*on has a Son Wal'er Granvilli re turr s from Pea as a Sailor 
 
 Visit* a House of Bad It-put- 1 .. 'anJ. metis Mis< Nnrr>s Walter h'is a 
 
 friend, a Sa-/or. son rf a Bank Pits>d n', in hi.t Com^iny -Hem-ets Ros>. 
 
 J3'irlcer A Kick Scene Roliin^on takes her out of the ILuse Walter and 
 
 Clara aid in their escape. 
 
 MR. and Mrs. Wilson after their marriage continued to re- 
 side in the house purchased fur Mrs. Nordheiin in West Wash- 
 ington Place. Mr. Wilson was a kind, careful, parental sort 
 of husband, and every day's experience convinced the wife 
 that she had acted most wisely and well when she gave her 
 hand to the worthy book-keeper. Nearly a year elapsed after 
 the marriage, when Mrs. Wilson presented her husband with a 
 charming boy. The birth of this little fellow opened a new 
 source of happiness to the parents he was a new bond of at- 
 tachment, and bound their hearts together closer than ever. 
 When the little fellow was about two months old, and the 
 strength and health of the mother was fully restored, Mr. Wil- 
 son asked his beautiful wife if she would be pleased if he gave 
 up business altogether. She laid her babe in the wicker cra- 
 dle, and gazing at her husband a moment, said, 
 
 " Ah, Wilson, you cannot deceive me. You have a motive 
 for asking that question, but I will answer it plainly. I wish 
 you would give up business, or if you wish to do business to 
 employ your time, do it in a prudent manner and in your own 
 name." 
 
 " That, wife, is precisely what I am coming at. But it 
 will be necessary to get off with the old love before I get on 
 with the new. Things are prosperous now. The house of 
 Granville & Wilson have made money, and I have contrived 
 under various pretences to withdraw from the concern a con-
 
 2S4 VIGOR. 
 
 siderable amount and invest it in securities in my own name. 
 I think there will be a crash in the commercial world before 
 long, but by submitting to some extortion I think I can gel 
 out of the concern now, with the capital which you placed in 
 it and about half as much more as 1 am entitled to for my 
 share of the profits. I can also make Granville cancel or se 
 cure me for all outstanding liabilities/' observed the prudent 
 "Wilson. 
 
 " Then, my dear, do so as speedily as possible. I am a 
 great believer in luck, and there is none where Mr. Granville 
 is concerned," said the wife. 
 
 In pursuance of this understanding between the husband 
 and wife, Mr. Wilson proposed to Mr. Granville a dissolution. 
 He made it in such a way, and it appeared so much to the ad- 
 vantage of Mr. Granville, that he instantly acceded to it and 
 thanks to the good financial management of Mr. Wilson, the 
 firm were in a situation to give him back in cash all that he 
 had put in, and twenty-five thousand dollars for his share of the 
 profits. 
 
 Granville knew that the apparent profits were four times 
 that amount. Mr. Wilson calculated that the losses for the 
 next year, under more unfavorable circumstances, would eat 
 up all the profits. Mr. Granville also was able to give securi- 
 ty for the outstanding liabilities of the concern, and Mr. Wil- 
 son signed the dissolution, giving the closing up of the affairs 
 to Mr. Granville. 
 
 Thirty days made Mr. Wilson free from all further respon- 
 sibilities, and he retired on his laurels, and devoted his whole 
 time to the wife and child. The cash that he received he in- 
 vested in real estate, and placed it in the name of his wife. 
 She was a woman who could appreciate a delicacy like this, 
 but she made no comment upon it. 
 
 From the very day that Mr. Wilson withdrew from the con- 
 cern it seemed as though the prosperity of Mr. Granville de- 
 clined. He met all his liabilities and engagements promptly, 
 both for the old house and the new, and every month Mr. Wil- 
 son re-transferred to his old partner stocks and -other securi- 
 ties. 
 
 Then a commercial crisis followed. Mr. Granville seemed 
 to lose money by every operation. He had done a very heavy 
 commission business, and held a large amount of business pa- 
 per, a large portion of which was protested as it become due. 
 His losses were tremendous, but he bore up stoutly under 
 them ; and although he lived higher, drank a great deal more
 
 VIGOR. 285 
 
 than usual, and relaxed much in his strict business habits, yet 
 he appeared to hold his own, and his commercial credit stooC 
 unimpaired, although it had a terrible shaking. He felt that 
 he had consented to a dissolution too hastily. But he kept a 
 brave heart, and was not a man to be moved by trifles. He 
 became a grandfather too of a fine boy about the time that Mr. 
 Wilson had a son. This son of his daughter Isabel was a new 
 source of pride to the old merchant. 
 
 He regretted that the grandson was not Walter's child*, so 
 that it could bear his own honored name of Granville. Then 
 the proud father wondered what had become of his son whe- 
 ther he was dead, or would ever turn up again. His wonder- 
 ment was destined to be solved, but in a manner that was al- 
 most a deathblow to the aristocratic parent. The events that 
 led to this discovery we will narrate as briefly as possible. 
 
 It was at a late hour one Saturday night that two young men 
 applied for admittance to a celebrated house of ill-fame in 
 Church street. In the centre of the door were some iron blinds 
 about the size of an ordinary window glass. Through these 
 blinds the person who came to the inside surveyed the appli- 
 cants for admission. 
 
 " Who do you wish to see ?" was the query of the female 
 doorkeeper. 
 
 " Some of the young ladies," was the reply, in a manly tone 
 of voice. 
 
 " Are you acquainted with any of them ?" was asked. 
 
 " No, madam, we are strangers ; we know no one in the 
 house, and have just arrived," was the reply. 
 
 " You are not rowdies anyhow, and I will let you in." 
 
 The parties entered, and the door was again closed, locked, 
 bolted, and securely chained, as is the ordinary but prudent 
 custom of such houses. 
 
 The girl took a good look at the two persons she admitted. 
 They were both draped in the garb of the better class of sail- 
 ors, yet they appeared to be gentlemen. Probably they had 
 disguised themselves in this manner for a lark, thought the 
 girl and her survey being satisfactory, she observed, 
 
 " Both of the parlors are occupied. I shall be obliged to 
 show you into Miss Clara's parlor, and then I will send some 
 of the young ladies into you." 
 
 " Thank you," replied one of the persons. He was much 
 stouter than his companion, who addressed him as " Walt." 
 His countenance was large and open ; his teeth when he 
 laughed were exposed, and white as ivory. His laugh was
 
 286 VIGOR. 
 
 merry and hearty, and the smile which accompanied it would 
 have won any woman's heart. He appeared to have been a 
 sailor. His face was bronzed, evidently from exposure, and 
 his dark hair, which hung long about his face, appeared not to 
 have been cut in a long while. He was very stoutly built, 
 broad across the shoulders and chest, and he looked like a 
 youth that it would not be safe to trifle with. The younger of 
 the two was called Harry Robinson ; he was not so stout as 
 his companion, but evidently was not a common sailor ; his 
 language was equally correct as his friend Walter. 
 
 The girl conducted the new comers into a small but exquis- 
 itely furnished parlor. There was a piano in it, and also a 
 guitar. Several choice paintings adorned the walls, and an 
 elegant sofa was in one corner ; there was a door which opened 
 to a room in the rear. Harry, as he was called, tried to open 
 it, to see where it led to ; it was fast. Both persons took oiF 
 their hats, placed them upon the centre table near a superb 
 astral, when they entered the room. 
 
 The guitar seemed to attract the attention of the one called 
 " Walt." 
 
 He took it up and struck a few notes. 
 
 " The best guitar I have touched in a long while I wonder 
 who plays it," he asked as the girl who opened the door to ad- 
 mit them entered the room. 
 
 " That belongs to Miss Clara," replied the girl. 
 
 " Shall we have the pleasure of seeing Miss Clara ?" asked 
 Walter. 
 
 " No, sir, Miss Clara does not see company. She has this 
 parlor and the sleeping room attached, and is a private board- 
 er," said the girl. 
 
 Walter had commenced playing while the girl wr.s talking 
 and when she had finished he sung a Spanish love song, ac- 
 companied by the guitar. 
 
 The girl stopped and listened. Walter finished, and then 
 ordered a bottle of champagne, adding, 
 
 " Where is this Miss Clara, into whose parlor we have 
 been intruding ?" 
 
 The girl replied that Miss Clara was in one of the main par- 
 lors, amusing herself. 
 
 She was interrupted by a sweet musical voice 
 
 " Miss Clara is here to speak for herself, and to ask who is 
 playing her guitar with such unusual good taste," and at the 
 same time one of the most beautiful visions burst into the par- 
 lor that Walter had seen in many months. Her long auburn
 
 VIGOR. 287 
 
 
 
 tresses fell in ringlets that reached behind her waist. Sho 
 was dressed in white, and not a single ornament of jewelry 
 was about her. Her face was beautiful, and her figure per- 
 fect. Both of the young men arose and uttered exclamations 
 of delight. She noticed but one of them. From the momeut 
 she entered the room her gaze was fixed upon Walter. 
 
 " Fair lady," he observed, " we owe you an apology for thus 
 intruding into your apartments, and I for touching this pri- 
 vate property but the girl is to blame for showing us in here, 
 and I must apologize for touching the guitar," observed Wal- 
 ter respectfully. 
 
 The lady gazed at him, but for some moments did not reply 
 a word, but took a seat on the sofa. Walter then resumed his 
 seat, and she took his hand, and still continued to examine his 
 features. At last she appeared to be satisfied with her close 
 examination, and a peculiar smile played for a moment upon 
 her fascinating mouth. 
 
 " Miss Clara, I hope you will know, me again when you see 
 me," said Walter. 
 
 " I know you now, if T am not mistaken," said Clara. 
 
 " Indeed I do not remember having ever had the pleasure 
 of seeing you before," replied Walter " in fact I have been 
 away from New York some years," he continued. 
 
 At this moment the girl entered and announced that one of 
 the parlors was empty, and that Miss .Brown wished the party 
 to adjourn to the principal parlor. 
 
 " I have taken the wine there," paid the girl. 
 
 " That is perfectly right," Clara replied. " Show that gen- 
 tleman (pointing to Harry) into the parlor. I will follow with 
 one who plays the guitar. I want to ask him one or two ques- 
 tions at once." 
 
 The girl left the room with the young man, and as soon as 
 they were gone and she was alone with Walter, she locked the 
 door of the parlor, then passed to the other door, and took a 
 key from the pocket of her dress, and opened it. 
 
 " Look in here, Master Sailor," she added. 
 
 Walter came to her side as she stood in the open door, and 
 there he discovered a sleeping apartment fitted up equal to 
 any room in- a palace. The bed was a lofty one, with fine 
 carved posts, and was one that a king would have been satis- 
 fied with 
 
 Walter glanced .over the apartment, remarking as he did so, 
 
 " I have never seen an apartment for sleeping more exquis- 
 itely furnished."
 
 288 VIGOR. 
 
 
 
 He looked for a moment at the loveliness by his side, and 
 sighed. 
 
 " What is that sigh for, and what is your name ?" 
 
 " Walter and I drew a sigh thinking what a happy man he 
 would be who could occupy that apartment, and have as a com- 
 panion its beautiful owner," was the gallant answer. 
 
 " Indeed ! Do you know, Mr. Walter, that I am not one of 
 the girls belonging to this house ?" asked Clara. 
 
 " I am perfectly aware of it and don't suppose that I, a 
 poor devil of a sailor just off from four years' cruising at sea, 
 had formed any idea that I could have so much happiness," 
 said Walter. 
 
 " Answer me some questions. You came here to-night, you 
 and your friend, to see each a young fady 1" 
 
 " I confess we did," was the reply. 
 
 " This is a somewhat expensive establishment are you 
 aware of it ?" asked Miss Norris. 
 
 " I am ; but we are not without some funds. We were paid 
 off to-day, and what we order we can pay for," said Walter, 
 with some pride. 
 
 " Now, Master Walter, let me say to you that your friend, or 
 you, if you had a thousand dollars, could not enter these pri- 
 vate apartments of mine, but >r , 
 
 " I am aware of it perfectly aware of it. Let us go iutc 
 the parlor," said Walter. 
 
 " In one moment. Look at me, Walter. We will go into 
 /he parlor. You shall see all the young ladies in the house 
 some are exquisitely beautiful. If you do not see any that you 
 can admire or desire for a companion until to-morrow morning, 
 then, on one condition, I, my poor humble self, will be your 
 slave. You shall be lord and master of the apartments and 
 my person at your disposal on one condition," and as she said 
 this, she, like a true Oriental, flung herself upon her knees, 
 and took Walter's hand and kissed it reverently. 
 
 " Why, I should be the happiest, luckiest dog in existence. 
 But you can't mean it, and what is the condition ?" asked Wal- 
 ter. 
 
 " That the word money is not used between us. You shall 
 not even pay for the bottle of wine that you have ordered, nor 
 for others that I shall order. You shall go into the parlor, see 
 all the beauties of the establishment play sing dance, and 
 amuse yourself until you are tired ; then, when you whisper 
 that to me, I will leave the room and have you conducted in 
 here. We will pass the night as pleasantly as we can. We
 
 VIGOR. 289 
 
 will have a choice breakfast ready in my parlor when we get 
 up, and after you have partaken of that with me, then you 
 shall go wherever you please ; but the word money or pay 
 or compensation, is not to be used by you. If you forget your 
 promise, I will leave you in an instant," said Clara Norris. 
 
 " Am I awake 1 or do I dream ? Lady, I accept the condi- 
 tion," said Walter. 
 
 Clara flung herself upon his manly breast, and he was not 
 backward in holding her tightly in his powerful embrace, while 
 he feasted upon her soft, dewy lips. He was losing all control 
 of himself, when she, with her face crimsoned with blushes, 
 broke away from him laughing, and as she unlocked and flung 
 open her parlor door, said, ' Come, my lord and master, I can- 
 not permit you to be naughty. You have a long night before 
 you, and you must see all the beauties of this house before you 
 will be able to decide whether you will accept my offer. Not 
 a word more." 
 
 They entered one of the main parlors arm in arm, and Clara 
 crossed the room and presented Blaster Walter to Mrs. Julia 
 Urowu, the proprietor of the establishment. Walter bowed to 
 a magnificent woman, who was " fair, fat and forty." He then 
 seated himself, and for a moment was lost in amazement. In 
 different parts of the room were eight or more of 1 the most ex- 
 quisitely beautiful girls he had ever laid his eyes upon. Some 
 were not over fifteen, or at most seventeen years of age. One 
 was presiding at the piano, playing a waltz, while two others 
 were waltzing with grace and elegance. All were dressed 
 costly, but with exquisite taste. Walter had read of Turkish 
 harems and voluptuous Circassian and Georgian beauties, but 
 here he fancied that it was realized. The wine was passing 
 freely, and Walter noticed that his friend had made no special 
 acquaintance. He went up and spoke a few words to him. 
 Henry made no reply except " Is is possible V and then looked 
 at Clara, who, amid all this galaxy of beauty, was partly re- 
 clining upon the sofa, the most beautiful among the beautiful. 
 Her eye met Walter's and it seemed to say, " Are you satisfied 
 that I am peerless here ?" 
 
 Henry asked Walter a question, and directed his attention 
 to a young and lovely creature that scarcely seemed to be 
 twelve years old. Her cheeks were like roses, and her hair, 
 which was in long clustering curls, seemed to cover her little 
 figure as a black cloud. Walter went and spoke to Clara, who, 
 aughing, said, " Oh, that is my sweet rose. I am very glad 
 
 13
 
 290 VIGOR. 
 
 that your friend has made so good a choice. I will introduce 
 him." 
 
 She went across the room to the young girl, brushed away 
 the dark masses of hair from her face, talked with her a little 
 while, and then beckoned to Henry Robinson. He crossed the 
 room directly. " Henry, this is Rose, a little rose that was 
 plucked away down in the State of Maine, at a place called 
 Bangor, not many months ago. She has a loving heart, and is 
 not very well suited for this house. She is very low spirited 
 to-night. You must be responsible for her cheerfulness," and 
 addressing Rose, " In the morning, you and Mr. Henry come 
 and get breakfast in my parlor. Then the two friends can 
 leave together." 
 
 Rose raised her beautiful gazelle eyes. " You, Miss Clara 
 you you his friend why, I thought you never " 
 
 Clara placed her finger on the Maine girl's lips. " Yea 
 Rose, I am in love with his friend. I, the haughty Clara. 
 Now don't say any more. Grood-night, both of you," and she 
 crossed to the sofa, and Walter took a seat by her side. 
 
 " Don't you think that Rose is exquisitely beautiful, Wal- 
 ter ?" asked Clara. 
 
 " I don't think look or care for but one in this room. I 
 believe I am getting crazy. That is you, Clara," and as he 
 pressed his arm around her small waist, her exquisitely shaped 
 head fell upon his breast. For some time they sat and listened 
 to the music. Meanwhile, Rose and Henry had left the par- 
 lor, the former crossing and wishing his companion good-ni^ht. 
 When they reached the sleeping-room of Rose, Heoj-y found a 
 large room, luxuriously furnished, and a sofa, upon which Rose 
 flung herself. 
 
 " Lock the door and come and tell me all about yourself 
 where you have been, who you are, what brought you here to- 
 night. What magic your friend Walter has, to be accepted by 
 Clara, who never sees company, except it be some very rich, 
 private friend, although she frequently goes into the parlor. 
 Tell me every thing, and perhaps I will love you, if you will," 
 exclaimed Rose, in almost the accents of a little school-girl. 
 
 Henry took her up in his arms as if she had been a child, 
 and then related to her that he and Walter had been sent off on 
 a whaling voyage, that both their fathers were gentlemen, that 
 flung together in this way they had become very fondly at- 
 tached, and that four years had elapsed since they went away. 
 
 " How Walter has fascinated Clara, I don't know. We only
 
 VIGOR. 291 
 
 landed to-day, and after getting some thing to eat, we came 
 here. That is all, my little rose-bud, that I can tell you." 
 
 " Harry is not a pretty name. Henry is better. How I do 
 hate this house ! I wish I never had entered it. But heigho 
 it can't be helped. You are the first person that has ever 
 entered my room that I did not detest in five minutes," said 
 Rose. 
 
 " Why, how is that 7" asked Harry. 
 
 " You have treated me as if I were a young lady. You held 
 me in your arms as my brothers once used to do, and you have 
 not once taken advantage of my position. I feel very different 
 to you from what I ever have done to visitors at this house." 
 
 Rose had met one who had sisters of his own equally beau- 
 tiful as she. The next morning, when she and Harry Robin- 
 son entered the parlor to take breakfast, she blushed like a 
 young bride who receives congratulations the morning after her 
 wedding night. She attracted the attention of Clara, who ex- 
 claimed, " Why, you little silly chit. Take care you and Mas- 
 ter Harry don't get in love, or you will have Mistress Brown 
 about your ears. She has no objection to her girls making 
 money, but she don't like to have them fall in love. Take 
 care," and she shook her head menacingly. 
 
 Harry Robinson then observed, " Miss Clara, we wish you 
 to be our friend. 1 want to take Rose out of this sort of busi- 
 ness. She wants to leave it, too." 
 
 " Treason, treason to good Julia Brown. Why, you foolish 
 child, where will you go ?" 
 
 " I will fix that somehow, if I can only get her out of this. 
 I have got a pocket-book pretty well lined, ain't it, Walter ? 
 She says she owes Julia Brown some money," remarked Rob- 
 inson. 
 
 " How much, Rose dear ?" demanded Clara. 
 
 " She told me thirty dollars last night, when I refused to 
 talk with that drunken gambler, and she scolded me until I 
 cried," replied Rose. 
 
 " She shall go with you if I have to have a quarrel with her. 
 Take the poor child out of the house, Harry, und you will never 
 regret so good a deed. Ask her out to walk when you go. 
 Then take her to a hotel in the Bowery, called the North 
 American. Go boldly in, and enter your names as man and 
 wife. Walter will go and see you to-morrow night, and when 
 Mrs. Brown finds that you have escaped her clutches, she will 
 be very glad to give me your wearing apparel and trunks, and 
 I will pay her all of her demands. Now eat your breakfasts,
 
 292 VIGOR. 
 
 and then you, Rose, go and get on such clothe-! as will answer 
 your purpose until to-morrow. Make up a small bundle of 
 your night-clothes, and carry them in your hind Mrs. Brown 
 will not be up for two hours. I will let you out of the house, 
 and Robinson, may God curse you if you ever desert that little 
 thing, or allow her ever to get into a house of this kind again," 
 exclaimed Clara Norris, earnestly. 
 
 " She never shall, if I can help it," and the young sailor 
 meant what he said. 
 
 The breakfast was finished somewhat hurriedly, for Rose 
 was somewhat anxious. Then she got ready. Clara walked 
 to the door, and quietly undid the fastenings. Henry Robin- 
 son and Rose Banker followed, and in a moment were outside 
 free in the street. Clara carefully fastened the street door, 
 and returned to her own apartments. 
 
 "Who knows, Walter, but that a human soul is saved? 
 What a time I shall have with Madume Julia! Now, dear 
 Walter, have you thought over what I have proposed ? And 
 have you made up your mind, sfter the most mature delibera- 
 tion, to accept my proposition ?" exclaimed Clara. 
 
 Before I "give the replies of Walter to those questions, I 
 must make a few explanations. Clara Norris had often seen 
 Walter Granville, and knew his features well at the time she 
 was the mistress of Mr. Nordheitn. She had seen him at the 
 theatre, had seen him with Miss Madison Pinckney ; and al- 
 though he had grown older and more inanly in appearance, yet 
 there was no very great change in the young boy she had 
 known, and the young man she found in her parlor on the night 
 that Walter came off from the ship. She knew him at once. 
 Walter did hot know her did not know her name even. Of 
 course, his female relations never allowed it to pass their lips, 
 and his father or his father's friends and clerks were not likely 
 to talk with him upon such a subject one which affected the 
 moral character of his father's partner. Consequently when 
 he met Clara Norris in her parlor, he was ignorant of her per- 
 son or of her name and antecedents. He was extremely flat- 
 tered to find in an expensive house of its kind a beautiful wo- 
 man, evidently flattered with his appearance the more flat- 
 tered, as she was of a higher grade than the regular residents 
 of the mansion, and not dependent upon prostituting her per- 
 son for a livelihood. She was beautiful far more charming 
 than any of the others, and placed herself at his disposal for 
 love certainly it was not for money, for she made it a condition 
 of her love and favor that money should not be offered her.
 
 VIGOR. 293 
 
 Walter was vain at heart, and not supposing Clara knew any- 
 thing about him or his family-friends, ha came to the conclu- 
 sion that she loved him, and he entered the luxurious trap 
 without a thought of danger, and supposed that when break- 
 fast was over in the morning he would probably never see her 
 again. 
 
 But what were the thoughts of the gifted syren, who had so 
 adroitly flung her auburn meshes around young Walter ? Love ! 
 She had no more love, than would naturally arise towards a 
 handsome, vigorous youth, who had been absent on a long 
 voyage, and who had found in her the first female who was to 
 respond to his caresses. But she had deeper and more dan- 
 gerous designs ; and she no sooner was satisfied that the run- 
 away son of Pitt Granville was before her, than her mind was 
 decided to have him at all costs and at all sacrifices. The first 
 step was to place him under obligations to her. 
 
 When Henry Robinson and Hose had left the parlor, Clara 
 waited a short timo, and then whispered to Walter, 
 
 " Do you see any that you can love better than me ?'' 
 
 A loving kiss, and a whispered " No," was the reply. 
 
 " Follow me then ;" and she sprang up and went to her par- 
 lor. Walter entered with her, and fastened the door. 
 
 " O, what will become of mo, dear Walter ? I am madly in 
 love with you ! I feared that you might see some ona that you 
 would like better than me, and I have been dreadfully alarm- 
 ed ;" and she flung her arms around him. " I am fainting 
 undress me and lay me on the sofa ! What can you think of 
 me ?" 
 
 Walf-3r was flattered in the worst manner. He did help her 
 to undress, and there was revealed to him charm? that would 
 have tempted Saint Anthony. He was frenzied ; but the art- 
 ful girl was perfectly herself. She had her purpose. 
 
 " How dare you attempt such liberties !" and she assumed a 
 sterner air. " I do love you, but I know nothing of you. I 
 am a fool ! Here you are, a strange sailor in my room, and I 
 almost naked ! What is there about you that has so fascinated 
 me ] Don't dare to take a liberty with nu ! Now tell mo all 
 about yourself. Who are you ? Where do you belong ? If 
 you will tell me the truth, that moment I will let you carry ino 
 in yonder ;" and she pointed to the sleeping apartment, the 
 door of which was opened. " If you do not, you shall go. 
 You are dressed, and I will opon th it door and call help, but 
 you shall leave me. Now kneel dowu by in?, and tell me all." 
 Walter was nearly mad frantic with the arts of this syren.
 
 294 VIGOR. 
 
 He commenced and gave her his name, his history, the name 
 of his father, in fact everything that he knew. Clara listened 
 attentively. She knew it all before. She knew more than 
 Walter did, for there were many things about his own family 
 that he did not know. She did not offer to tell him these, but 
 said, 
 
 " Dear Walter, I am not such a mad fool as I thought I was. 
 You are a gentleman, and that is why I loved you from the 
 first. Now I am yours do what you please with me." 
 
 Her object was achieved, and she gave way to all her fiery 
 and fierce passions, which had been so thoroughly aroused by 
 the young sailor. As he lay clasped in her arms, could he have 
 known her secret thoughts her feelings of gratified revenge ! 
 There was a light in her sleeping apartment.. 
 
 " 0," thought Clara Norris, " could old Granville only know 
 this ! His son my partner ! It is a sweet revenge ! Tom, 
 too, who has abused me so where is his loved nephew ? 
 Here in my arms the abused, neglected, insulted Clara Nor- 
 ris whom I am binding to me by chains stronger than those 
 of father, sister, uncle or friend. Beautiful Isabel, that has 
 insulted me wherever we have met, where is that manly, lov- 
 ing brother, that you would give almost your life to see once 
 more ! Where is he ? here in my arms pillowed on the 
 bosoin of Clara Norris ! 0, this is delicious, exquisite re- 
 venge !" And with such feelings in her bosom her worst 
 passions, lust, hate and revenge all being gratified, she passed 
 a sleepless night. 
 
 The next morning she met, as we have related, Henry and 
 Rose. She had done apparently a good act, but it was to bind 
 the friend of Walter to her more closely, that she had assisted 
 in his running off Rose. 
 
 When they had departed, Walter spoke of leaving. 
 
 " Indeed, sir, you shall do no such thing. You are my 
 prisoner. You shall not leave this house nor this room this 
 day of our Lord. It is Sunday, and you shall worship here. 
 Besides, you have told me your history, and now you shall fol- 
 low my advice before you see any of your friends or your 
 parent. I have no doubt I can help you to be reconciled with 
 your father. You are independent. You need ask no favors. 
 See here." 
 
 She showed him a large amount of gold, and bank bills of a 
 large denomination. 
 
 " That is all yours, my dear Walter, if you need it. I don't 
 love by halves, and I don't know but that I shall invite you to
 
 VIGOR. 295 
 
 go up in the country, where I own a farm, and spend a week 
 there. What do you think of it, dear Walter ?" 
 
 " I will go anywhere with you to the devil, if you say the 
 word," replied Walter. 
 
 " We will see your friend and Rose settled, and then we will 
 go," observed Clara. 
 
 " Will you see Harry all snug with his woman?" 
 
 " What is his name ?" asked Clara. 
 
 " Henry Robinson," was the reply. 
 
 " Is his father the rich judge of that name ?" 
 
 The same. That is his father is Chancellor of the State," 
 replied Walter. 
 
 Walter remained all day in that house. 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 Pledging a, Watch Simpson of Chatham street Colonel Mac Neil pledge* 
 Ais duelling pistols A scene at 43 Centre street Mirion grti gcar<d 
 Finds the Count Fa/sfcfiinski Ue gives the Colonel onf hundred dollars 
 Dotnull watches thi loan, andfjllows tlie Colonel to Harrison street. 
 
 MARION had a beautiful gold watch, which he had purchased 
 of Allen in Wall street. It was a good watch solid gold, lots 
 of jewels and cost one hundred dollars. The chain and other 
 outrigging cost thirty dollars more. About once a month some 
 stern necessity would compel him to part with this costly affair 
 temporarily. He detested borrowing when he was short. It 
 is a horrible degradation to an independent mind. When Mr. 
 Monck had occasion for a small sum he would go openly to 
 Mr. Simpson, in Chatham street, who ought to be regarded as 
 an institution of New York. He is supposed to work for a 
 large per centage. Grant it. He ought to get a much larger 
 one. Who earns it so dearly ? Simpson ought to charge 
 more he would do so, did he not find a large reward 
 
 In his calm and manly breast, 
 In his blessed daily task 
 Of pledging the distressed, 
 Raising up the broken ones, 
 Short as pie-crust now ; 
 Bleeding drops of deep remorse 
 From an anguished brow. 
 
 His frequent visits attracted the attention of the elder 
 Simpson, and on one occasion he observed to Marion Monck, 
 " Do you give your real name when you pledge your watch ?"
 
 296 VIGOR. 
 
 " I do, sir. I am not ashamed of it. "VVhy do you ask ?" 
 
 " Mere curiosity. Nothing more, I assure you," replied the 
 pawnbroker. " Most people sneak in here as though they had 
 been robbing a hen-roost, and felt mean. I am not ashamed 
 of my business ; and I like a customer who conies openly to me 
 and says what he wants ; and if I can let him what he needs I 
 do it without any chaffing. Now I've given you twenty-five 
 dollars on that watch. If you had wanted fifty dollars you 
 should have had it," said the pawnbroker. 
 
 " You are a man of business, Mr. Simpson. Egad, you must 
 see a good deal of the under-current of life. I would- like to be 
 hired by you for six months, just for the sake of studying 
 human character. But don't you get taken in sometimes ?" 
 asked Marion. 
 
 " Indeed we do. It requires one to keep his eyes open to 
 do this business and make any thing by it. We have so many 
 rogues to deal with that we regard every man as a rogue until 
 we are taught better by experience. We hear some sad stories 
 some heart-rending stories. We don't know whether they 
 are true or not. Some doubtless are, but ' we have no time to 
 examine,' " replied the pawnbroker. 
 
 " Those who love to relieve suffering would find lots of 
 opportunities, Mr. Simpson, if they would watch those who 
 came in here for relief," said Marion. 
 
 " Indeed you never spoke a truer word. Did you notice a 
 very beautiful girl, who went out just as you came in ? Neatly 
 but poorly dressed ? She pledged two sheets for twenty-five 
 cents. She wanted fifty. Said it was to get food for a sick 
 mother until she got her pay next Saturday night, when she 
 would return the money. She is a book-folder. Her mother 
 and she can sleep between blankets do without sheets can't 
 do without food. I am a blessing to that girl. But for me, 
 where would she go to keep her mother from starving ? On 
 the town ! where else 1" emphatically demanded Mr. Simpson. 
 
 " You are a philosopher. I wish I had known how she was 
 situated. She should not have wanted a few dollars to help 
 her along in her dreary walk," said Marion, kindly. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I dare say and you would have wanted some 
 thing else before you finished with her. Young men are young 
 men. I make it a point never to speak of what I know iu 
 reference to young females who come to my shop. Were I' to 
 do so, I should be the cause of the ruin of a great many. Now 
 I know that young girl's address. She gave it true. It is on 
 the duplicate ticket for the two sheets. You seem to be a
 
 VIGOR. 297 
 
 little better than these seducers about town ; but do you 
 suppose I would put you in the way of temptation, and, having 
 told you how destitute that girl is, tell you also where you 
 could find her ? No, sir. You would go, relieve her, get her 
 gratitude, talk marriage and honor, and all that sort of lying 
 nonsense, and probably I should not see her again until byc- 
 and-bye, after the lapse of a year, she would come here, rouged 
 like the red sides of a peach, to make a raise on a gold watch 
 or a silk dress to pay room rent to some boss prostitute. No, 
 sir. I don't do business that way. I don't trust such secrets 
 to any body," said the conscientious broker. 
 
 " But, my dear sir, you don't suppose I am such a sort of 
 person, or that I would use information so obtained to debauch 
 a young and beautiful girl ?'' replied Marion, a little angered 
 and mortified. 
 
 " I do not know what you might do. I do know that you 
 will not get any information from me about it. Poverty to a 
 young and attractive girl is a fearful thing any how ; but it is 
 her defensive armor only so long as prowlers don't know it. 
 When a bad man is aware that a girl and her poor mother are 
 in a state of starvation, he has the game in his own hands, if he 
 chooses to run it down," said the pawnbroker. 
 
 In the pawnbroker's shop of the worthy Simpson there is a 
 long counter, but at the extreme end there are some three or 
 four cubby -houses, opened to the counter, but with high sides ; 
 and when the door of this little pigeon-house is closed, it can 
 be locked inside, and the party occupying it can keep partially 
 concealed. Just as the pawnbroker had finished about the 
 girl, a person entered hurriedly, and passed into one of the 
 boxes. Marion was startled he thought he had recognized 
 the person, although he had but a glimpse of him as he passed. 
 The party handed to the pawnbroker a dark-colored mahogany 
 box, saying, 
 
 " How much can you let me have on these ?" 
 
 Simpson opened the box, for the key was in it. 
 
 " They are hair-trigger duelling pistols," said the applicant. 
 
 " Old-fashioned affairs out of date. Wouldn't sell for 
 much/' replied the pawnbroker. 
 
 They have been used on two melancholy occasions with 
 deadly effect," observed the applicant. 
 
 " Have a sort of historical value, have they ? But it don't 
 count much with us," said Mr. Simpson. 
 
 " That identical pair of pistols, sir, was used in the duel be-
 
 298 VIGOR. 
 
 tween Burr and Hamilton, and more recently in a duel between 
 Colonel Graham and Mr. Barton," observed the applicant. 
 
 " You are Mr. Barton, I suppose," asked the pawnbroker. 
 
 " I am not, sir, but I was a second to that gentleman when 
 his opponent was killed," replied the applicant. 
 
 " Indeed ! How much do you want on them ? If they had 
 been used to murder all creation, it wouldn't make 'em worth 
 a mite more in this shop," said Simpson, very coolly. 
 
 " I dare say it would not ; but those pistols must have cost 
 over eighty guineas," urged the applicant, and added, " I want 
 twenty dollars upon them." 
 
 " Can't do it will give you ten, if that will do ;" and the 
 pawnbroker turned to another customer. 
 
 " Give it to me, then, and take them," said the applicant. 
 
 " Your name and residence, sir," asked the pawnbroker. 
 
 " Smith 43 Centre street," was the reply. 
 
 " P^irst name ?" asked the pawnbroker. 
 
 " William," was the reply. 
 
 The tickets were arranged, and the applicant took his de- 
 parture. 
 
 " Good-bye, Mr. Simpson," said Marion Monck. 
 
 " Good-bye, sir. Come in again glad to see you," replied 
 Mr. Simpson. 
 
 No sooner was Marion Monck out in the street, than he ad- 
 dressed himself thus : " Poor Mac ! This will never do. I 
 am hard up, but he is worse off, or he would never have 
 pledged those redoubtable duelling-pistols of his, which he 
 exhibits with so much reverence. What can have happened ?" 
 
 He hurried up to Centre street, and there he found the 
 Colonel sipping a glass of liquor, as though nothing had hap- 
 pened. 
 
 " Egad, I will not mortify him so much as to tell him I am 
 aware of his visit to the pawnbroker's," thought Marion ; and 
 as he approached Colonel Mac Neil, who was so short-sighted 
 that he could not distinguish a face before he heard the voice, 
 he exclaimed, " Good morning, Colonel ; how do you feel this 
 morning 1 Anything new ? I will join you in a drink. I col- 
 lected some money this morning, and am quite flush." 
 
 Saying this, he pulled out a roll, and without waiting for a 
 reply to his first salutation, gaily remarked, " If you want some, 
 Colonel, help yourself but I know you never want money." 
 
 " My dear boy, you were never more mistaken in your life. 
 I do want money I want just twenty dollars. I have ten
 
 VIGOR. 299 
 
 see it and I will help myself to a ten from your pile if you 
 can spare it, that is ?" 
 
 " Easily, my dear Colonel, and as long as you want it," 
 added Marion. 
 
 " No, I don't want it very long. The fact is, Marion," and 
 here the Colonel lowered his voice to a whisper, " I have had 
 a bard time of it lately. Things have all gone wrong. I am 
 getting quite discouraged. I have a home with the proprietor 
 of this store old porter of mine when I was rich, you know. 
 Always kept some cash in his hands, and I hate to borrow 
 without being able to repay, eh ? Safe rule that, eh ? Keep 
 one horse saddled and one in the stable, eh 1" said the poor 
 Colonel. 
 
 There was an unusual wildness about Colonel Mac Neil as 
 he said this, which Marion was very sorry to perceive. He 
 discovered that the Colonel had been drinking very freely the 
 day before, and he was so nervous that he was obliged to take 
 three stiff drinks while Marion was with him, to steady his 
 nerves. Marion felt inclined to give the Colonel a few worda 
 of friendly advice, and to caution him against excessive drink; 
 but he had hardly spoken a word respecting it, when Mac Neil 
 uttered the sentence, " Boy, stop ! Not a word more, or never 
 dare speak to me again !" 
 
 Marion was silenced. He was awed by this wreck of hu- 
 manity, who was so much older, and who had seen so many 
 vicissitudes in life ; and he mentally resolved never to open 
 his lips again upon the subject, no matter what occurred. He 
 felt it to be useless. For a proud man, who has become ad- 
 dicted to drink, and continues it to excess, is the last man in the 
 world to permit old friends to discuss such a subject, of to 
 give him any advice. He regards it as a wanton insult, and 
 would affront the only remaining friend he had on earth to re- 
 bent such interference. 
 
 There were in that place other persons well known to Colonel 
 Mac Neil, and also to Marion. One of these, whom we hav<5 
 alluded to as Charley, the clergyman's brother, was a very sen- 
 sible and a very practical man. Loss of business, of property, 
 and utter hopelessness, had led him to abandon himself to 
 drink to drown sorrow, but he had a limit which he never ex- 
 ceeded. He never went to bed sober, but he managed to eat 
 his meals regularly, and this gave the rum he drank something 
 to feed on. Mr. Charles addressed Marion, and requested to 
 speak' with him alone. Marion retired to the back of the store, 
 and both took seats upon a pipe of mixed gin.
 
 300 VIGOR. 
 
 " Mr. Monck, I want to tell you that our friend the Colonel 
 is going it too strong. He can'-t stand it. If he don't let up 
 a little he is a croaker. His constitution is cracked." 
 
 Marion asked in some alarm if anything of importance had 
 recently happened. 
 
 " O no, except the Colonel has been keeping up a tremen- 
 dous head of steam, and until a very late hour. I heard him 
 say this morning, when he came down, that he had had no sleep 
 for forty-eight hours. When he took his first drink this morn- 
 ing, I had to help him steady his glass to get it to his lips. 
 He was very shaky, I assure you. It can't last long," ob- 
 served the good-natured Mr. Charles. 
 
 " G-ood God, I should think not ! But what can be done 1 
 I don't like to say anything. I did speak to him just now, and 
 he gave me a reprimand that I shall not forget in a hurry. I 
 will do anything that I can do. Tell me what I can do ?" said 
 Marion. 
 
 ' He ought to be placed under some restraint, sir. He can't 
 control himself. Has he no friends that would pay for placing 
 him in the Hospital ? It is only twelve dollars. They cure 
 him for that, and keep him from drink while he is there. If 
 he is fool enough to drink when he comes out, and rush it again, 
 why he must take the consequences," observed the prudent 
 Charles. 
 
 " The money," replied Marion, " is of no consequence. That 
 is easily raised. But who will broach the subject to the Col- 
 onel ? If he don't see the necessity of going to the hospital 
 he will not go, and there is an end of it." 
 
 "True, very true. But he is getting worse every day. If 
 he don't see the necessity to-day, he may to-morrow. I will 
 try and see what I can do. He may listen to me, as I am 
 nearly of his age. He will not to you that is certain. I will 
 talk to you again to-morrow ;" and with this benevolent senti- 
 ment Mr. Charles put an end to the conversation by reporting 
 himself in person to an invitation to take a drink. 
 
 Marion began to sicken of the scene. He saw Colonel Mac 
 Neil again going up to the bar for another drink. He saw even 
 the proprietor shake his head reprovingly to the Colonel. 
 Then Marion made his escape from the premises by a rear 
 door. He was very anxious about the Colonel. He had re- 
 ceived twenty-five dollars, and he had let the Colonel have ten. 
 He went at once to his landlady, and gave her the remaining fif- 
 teen dollars. He now determined to see the Count Falsechin- 
 ski. He knew that at that hour the Count would be at Del-
 
 VIGOR. 301 
 
 monico's in Beaver street. He hurried down there, and luck- 
 ily found him. The Count received him very cordially, but 
 scolded him for not coming oftener to see him. 
 
 " I have sought you this morning, Count, to tell you about 
 poor Colonel Mac Neil. You know I like him. I this morn- 
 ing gave him ten dollars.'' 
 
 " Where did you get the money to spend on him ?" 
 
 Marion's blood rushed to his cheeks, and he took out his 
 pawn ticket. 
 
 " There, sir. I pledged my watch to get twenty-five dollars, 
 and ten dollars I gave poor Mac, and fifteen dollars I paid iny 
 landlady," said Marion. 
 
 " Pshaw, my boy don't get vexed with me ! I have a fixed 
 purpose for you. It is only fair that I should pay your ex- 
 penses until my plans are ripe. Here is money. Don't turn 
 an angry look at me I will not see it. Here are two bills of 
 one Ifundred dollars each make them go as far as they will. 
 This money is for yourself not for Colonel Mac Neil. Still, 
 Marion, as the Colonel was the means of making you and I ac- 
 quainted, I will do anything for him that you desire. Where 
 can I find him ? I will go with you now," said the Count. 
 
 Marion was surprised at the alacrity of the Count. He re- 
 ceived and pocketed the two hundred dollars without any 
 remark. The two started for Centre street. While on the 
 way the Count was pleasant and communicative, and talked 
 upon a variety of topics. At last he said, 
 
 " Upon second thoughts, I do not wish you to go with me to 
 see Colonel Mac Neil. Tell me where he is to be found, and 
 I will find him. Now go and get your watch and join me at 
 the Colonel's." 
 
 Marion complied with the wish of the Count's. As he en- 
 tered Simpson's the second time that day, he handed him the 
 ticket and a hundred dollar bill. Mr. Simpson received it, 
 gave the change, and ordered a boy to go get the watch. He 
 made no comment. Most men would have said something, as, 
 " 0, you are in luck ;" " Have you been robbing anybody ?" 
 or " Found a gold mine ?" but such a man was not Mr. Simpson. 
 Commenting was not in his line. There was some little delay 
 attending the delivery of the watch, and when Marion reached 
 No. 43 Centre street, where he was to meet Count Falsechin- 
 ski, he found that gentleman engaged in earnest conversation 
 with Colonel Mac Neil. Marion did not interrupt their con- 
 versation, but he was surprised. He had never noticed the 
 Colonel in such glorious spirits. He seetned to be a new man,
 
 302 VIGOR. 
 
 and perfectly sober. He remarked this fact to Mr. Charles. 
 The latter was an old soldier. He observed in reply, 
 
 " That is all false. He is drinking upon dead liquor in his 
 system. A gallon of rum would not have made him drunk this 
 morning. But to-morrow wait until to-morrow ! See him in 
 the morning! It will be dreadful, and it will be worse every 
 succeeding day, until the Colonel has the delirium tremons. 
 I know just how it works- you can't tell me anything about 
 that matter. Colonel Mac Neil don't eat anything he don't 
 sleep, and he drinks like a fish. Of course such a bad state 
 of things cannot last long. There will be a pull up some time 
 or another." 
 
 Having delivered these brief philosophical observations, the 
 brother of the Trinity Church clergyman went to take another 
 drink to his own cheek. 
 
 Marion approached the Count and Colonel Mac Neil. The 
 latter spoke in a stern voice, '' No, sir. No, sir. Not as a 
 favor. Not as a loan from you, sir. I am a gentleman, sir. I 
 am of the race of Mac Neil. I accept the hundred dollars you 
 are so kind as to loan me, provided you, sir, accept this ridic- 
 ulous pawn-ticket for a petty ten dollars for pistols that have 
 killed a Hamilton and a Graham." 
 
 The Count took the ticket at once, for he was afraid of a 
 scene. " That is right, sir. We are now equals. It is a reg- 
 ular business transaction. You have collateral security of at 
 least two hundred and fifty dollars for a loan of one hundred 
 dollars. Now let us take a drink. What will you have, Count 
 Falsechinski ?" Colonel Mac Neil continued. 
 
 Tbe Count pleasantly named his drink to the bar-tender. 
 
 " Count," continued the Colonel, " did you ever see in me, 
 sir, any thing incompatible with the character of a gentleman ? 
 One of the race of Mac Neil. The best blood in the High- 
 lands in olden times, and I am proud of it, sir. You are a 
 blooded masculine, if Poles can have blood, Count, eh ? Ex- 
 cuse the pun, but you are a Pole, are you not ? A noble Pole. 
 Well, success to you. Here is your very good health." 
 
 The Count replied in courteous terms, and began to look at 
 the door, and seemed uneasy. Just at that moment Marion 
 noticed Mr. O'Doemall seated near the chairs recently occu- 
 pied by the Colonel and the Count. O'Doemall had evidently 
 been a witness to the money scene between the two parties. 
 As soon as he perceived that he was noticed by Marion, he 
 came forward in his bold, daring way, said " How d'y ?" to 
 Marion, and addressed both the Count and Colonel. The
 
 VIGOR. 303 
 
 former bowed, but the latter treated Mr. O'Doemall with cold- 
 ness, and made an excuse to leave. O'Doemall then ordered a 
 drink for himself, and began to converse with the Colonel. 
 Marion no sooner observed the departure of the Count than he 
 followed him into the street, but he lost him, and concluded 
 not to return to the drinking saloon. 
 
 The artful O'Doemall had it all hig own way with Colonel 
 Mac Neil after the departure of the Count Falsechinski and 
 Marion Monck. He flattered his vanity, and the Colonel was 
 fast getting too intoxicated to notice the hollowness of praise 
 coming from such foul lips, and he also forgot the character of 
 the man with whom he was associating. 
 
 Finally, the Colonel expressed his intention of going and 
 spending an evening with his family. 
 
 " Family !" interrupted O'Doemall, " I did not know that 
 jou had a family. Where do they live ?" 
 
 This question for a moment sobered the Colonel, who felt 
 that he had said too much, and with a scowl at his impudent 
 companion, remarked, " You are a rascal. Clear out at once, 
 or I will order you to be put out." 
 
 Mr. O'Doemall went out at once, but his departure was not 
 noticed by the Colonel. Unluckily for him that this artful 
 scamp had again been permitted to renew an acquaintance 
 which had ended for ever, but for his kindness to Marion 
 Monck when sick- Mr. O'Doemall had seen the Count hand 
 Colonel Mac Neil money. He had tried to get into Mac Neil's 
 good graces, but had failed. He now determined to watch 
 him. Shortly after Colonel Mac Neil left 43 Centre street, 
 and passed over to the west side of Broadway. At several 
 stores he stopped and made purchases. Some of the smaller 
 articles so purchased he carried on himself. The others he or- 
 dered sent to the address he left with the different store keep- 
 ers. When he had satisfied himself, he continued on his way 
 to 27 Harrison street, and entered the house. No sooner had 
 the door closed than O'Doemall, who had been following him, 
 crossed the street to the house, and after having carefully no- 
 ticed the number, he passed down the street to the dock. 
 
 "I have housed my game, and J will try and amuse myself 
 for a short time, or until he comes out," was his soliloquy.
 
 304 VIGOR. 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 The Plans of Walter Granvilltand Miss Nrris - Julia BrownThe De- 
 parture of Rote Miss Norris leaves Jtliss Brown's Residence, 
 
 IF Walter Granville had returned like the Prodigal Son in 
 the year 18 orthereabouts.no doubt old Granville would 
 have bid him welcome, got up a great dinner, and celebrated 
 the event with considerable rejoicings : but young Granville 
 came back after years of absence with no repentant feelings. 
 His father had kicked him out, and Walter felt much obliged 
 to him that he had done so. It had made a man of him made 
 a free man. He had returned to this city because the vessel 
 in which he had been cruising was ordered to New York. He 
 had landed without intending to call upon his father, friends, 
 or any body else. As a rover he had called at No. 100 Church 
 street, because he had known in earlier years that the house at 
 that number was kept for pleasure purposes. He had money 
 to spend, and he intended to spend some of.it there, and the 
 meeting with Miss Norris was entirely accidental. He regard- 
 ed it as a piece of good fortune. Her curious conduct had 
 saved him money, and he felt obliged. 
 
 When Clara proposed to Walter Granville to remain there 
 that Sunday, and to go up in the country with her, he con- 
 sented at once, becau.se he had nothing to do on board the ves/ 
 sel, and nothing in town that he was aware of. His sea chest 
 was where he could get it at any moment, and he had no alarm 
 about that. 
 
 Neither Clara Norris nor Walter Granville had any idea of 
 what a storm was brewing in Church street, to be shortly 
 poured out upon their devoted heads by the worthy Mrs. Ju- 
 lia Brown. That lady was npt a woman to be robbed of one 
 of her most beautiful night birds without fluttering her moth- 
 erly wiogs. 
 
 This lady, deserves more than a passing notice. Previous to 
 the date of our Chapter, Julia Brown kept a two-story house 
 of ill-fame in Leonard street. It was pulled down in 1837 to 
 make room for the new Italian.Opera House. Thence Madam
 
 VIGOR. 305 
 
 moved to 100 Church street, an<J after residing there for some 
 years, she returned to Leonard street, and in one of the most 
 magnificent Palaces of Sin ever built in New York, continued 
 business for a long time. This house was next door to the 
 Italian Opera House. When that edifice was burnt, Julia's 
 house was consumed also. It was in this fire that the celebra- 
 ted Mr. (T., who was sleeping with the noted courtesan Mary 
 Moore, the female partner in London of Colonel Monroe Ed- 
 wards. G. barely escaped in his shirt from being burned to 
 death. 
 
 Miss Julia Brown made a large fortune in this business. 
 She was a beautiful woman, but not immoral herself. She was 
 married to a fancy man named Jack Harris!. For a long time 
 he was her fancy man, but when a daughter was born, he be- 
 came her husband. 
 
 This Jack Harris was also a character in his day. He was a 
 sporting man, drank hard, lived high, made bets on every 
 thing and in a word was a thorough-bred gambler. He was 
 also a great politician, and in those days ruled the Fifth Ward 
 Democratic politics, and presided at the primary meeting that 
 first elected Fernando Wood to a seat as a member of the 
 Young Men's Committee at Tammany Hall. 
 
 Jack Harris had a friend named Allen who would lend him 
 a thousand dollars whenever he needed it, and for a week's 
 use of this sum would charge Jack one hundred. Miss Julia 
 Brown, though conducting a business for the public down town, 
 had her own magnificent residence in Fourth street, up town. 
 At this house lived her daughter, who probably never was in- . 
 side of her mother's " place of business." The daughter was 
 not pretty, b'lt intelligent and virtuous. While living in 
 Fourth street, which house she owned, Julia came down in 
 her carriage to her business in the morning, and retired at 
 night, leaving in charge for the later hours, a housekeeper. 
 
 All of a sudden, from being a pretty sinner, Miss Julia 
 Brown became a violent saint. Her first appearance in this 
 character was at a sale of pews in a Universalist church in her 
 neighborhood. She bought a pew half way up the middle 
 aisle, and paid for it one hundred and seventy dollars She at- 
 tended this church, occupying her own seat, for several Sun- 
 days, accompanied by her daughter. No one knew her but 
 on the sixth Sunday, a gentleman in the adjoining seat became 
 aware of the proximity of his old acquaintance Julia Brown, 
 and he mentioned the circumstance to his wife, who was a 
 member of the church. She told it to a dozen other female
 
 306 VIGOR. 
 
 members, and it kicked up a delight for the devil in that con- 
 gregation. A large majority were for putting Julia out of the 
 synagogue without a word of explanation. More peaceable 
 measures were recommended by the clergyman, and it was de- 
 cided that he should call upon the frail but somewhat notorious 
 einner at her own domicile. 
 
 He did so. Julia was a good actor. She spread herself at 
 once : confessed that she had been bad very bad, but that 
 she had repented, was living in private had married Jack 
 was bringing up her daughter right, and had hopes that she 
 should be enabled to convert Jack Harris, and get him all 
 straight. The clergyman felt bad. It was a mighty hard 
 case. He preached a sermon about Mary Magdalen the con- 
 gregation sympathized and the upshot was that Julia contin- 
 ued in favor, and eventually became a religious lioness in that 
 church, and visited freely with the different families of that 
 congregation and among others, that of Mr. Allen. 
 
 Meanwhile Julia did sell out her establishment down town 
 or pretended that she had done 'so. Her daughter had 
 grown up to be a fine young girl. She was courted by several 
 young men. One of them was Mr. F. E., one of the hand- 
 somest men in the City, or that could be found in the State. 
 Mr. E. was accepted, and the parties were married, with the 
 full consent and approval of both Julia Brown and Mr. Harris. 
 
 Not long after the marriage was solemnized, Julia, who was 
 posted in all the wickedness of the world in general, and of 
 mankind in particular, discovered that her son-in-law had 
 become the fancy man of one Ellen McVean, a handsome 
 courtezan that resided with Cinderella Marshall in Leonard 
 street, opposite Julia's old house. The mother went to work 
 and procured a divorce for her daughter. Not long after, 
 another suitor appeared. He was a lawyer, named McM. He 
 married the divorced Mrs. E. Then Julia Brown died, 
 leaving a very large property to this daughter, and left Allen 
 (Jack's friend) executor. Then Jack died, and he also left his 
 property to this daughter, and also made Allen his executor. 
 The daughter of Julia was now rich in her own right. She 
 owned a large tract on the Fifth avenue. Then she built a 
 house and moved into it with her husband. The lady believed 
 that money was the sesame that opened all doors. She had 
 money, and she desired to shine in the Fifth avenue. But 
 powerful as is money, it failed to place Mrs. McM. at the head 
 of the sett about her. One's grandmother may have been a 
 washerwoman, or never have had any existence. But when
 
 VIGOR. 307 
 
 one's mother is notorious for having made the money we are in- 
 clined to spend off the souls and bodies of human beings by 
 keeping a house of ill-fame, it brings things too near home. If 
 is coming it too strong. So thought some of Mrs. AlcM.'s 
 neighbors, and they " cut her." 
 
 Disappointed as was Mrs. McM. in such a result, she was 
 not dispirited or disheartened. She determined to command 
 success to shine as a star somewhere. Her mother was a 
 woman whose fame was a public one, why should not the 
 daughter appeal to the public for favor, although in a different 
 way, and under somewhat different auspices 1 This decided 
 her, so she took to Shakespeare and the stage, and made her 
 first appearance in Buffalo. She came to New York, and hired 
 the Academy of Music for one night. Not satisfied with these 
 appearances, she determined to try another feat. She became 
 manager of a theatre in Chambers street, and we hope she will 
 carve her way to a niche in the temple of fame. 
 
 This digression is not out of place. It is an episode that 
 could not be left out ; and having followed in brief the for- 
 tunes of the mother to her death, and the daughter to her be- 
 coming a public character, we now return to Julia Brown when 
 she was in her glory at No. 100 Church street, coining money 
 as if she were owner of a mint. 
 
 We left Walter Grranville and Clara waiting in the parlor 
 appropriated to Clara. It was near midday before Mrs. Brown 
 made her appearance. It was then reported to her that Rose 
 had not been down. Mrs. Brown sent at once to Clara Norris 
 to ask if she knew anything about Rose. Clara made no reply, 
 but went to Mrs. Brown herself. 
 
 " Rose is not in my room, Mrs. Brown," said Clara. 
 
 " Did not she and her companion of last night get breakfast 
 with you ?" asked Mrs. Brown, who was getting warm. 
 
 " They did," replied Miss Norris. 
 
 " Then where is Rose ?'' again demanded Mrs. Brown. 
 
 " To tell you the truth, Mrs. Julia Brown, I think Rose has 
 gone for good. She was but a child, and the person who was 
 with her last night took her off," was the reply of Miss Norris. 
 
 " Why in h 11 did you not stop it 1 Why did you not rouse 
 the house rouse me ? I had rather have lost five hundred 
 dollars than that girl !" exclaimed Julia. 
 
 " I was not aware of that. I let her out myself," innocently 
 observed Miss Norris. 
 
 " You, Clara Norris ! Do you dare to tell me this !" and
 
 308 VIGOR. 
 
 she seized an iron bar that fastened one of the windows, and 
 approached her as if to strike. 
 
 " Have a care, Mrs. Brown. One step nearer, and you will 
 go to h 11 before your time ;" and Clara drew from her bo- 
 som a small dagger. She held it so close to Mrs. Julia, that 
 the latter dropped the bar, and putting on one of her sweetest 
 smiles, exclaimed, 
 
 " Why, Clara, dear, what is the matter ? I was only joking." 
 
 CJara replied, calmly, " Take care, Julia, that you don't try 
 such jokes .on me once too often. Have a care." 
 
 It was now Julia's turn to be calm. She asked who was to 
 pay a debt that Rose owed her ? 
 
 "Come, Julia," said Clara. "If you will send all Rose's 
 things to my room, I will pay you out of my own purse. You 
 shall not lose by my carelessness. Really, had I known that 
 Rose was such a valuable little package, I should -have been 
 more careful. Now be a good woman, and go get Rose's things 
 packed. How much is her debt ?" 
 
 " Forty dollars," replied the somewhat mollified Brown. 
 
 " I will pay it when I have her trunks ; and now I think of 
 it, I will go and see Rose's things picked up and packed, and 
 have her trunks placed in my room ;" and she tripped out of 
 the room. Could she have heard the curses hurled at her by 
 Julia when she had left the room, she would have hugged her 
 small dagger more closely. 
 
 The trunks of Rose were packed and placed in Clara's par- 
 lor. Then she sent for a carriage to be at No. 100 after din- 
 ner. She and Walter dined together, and then had the trunks 
 of Rose placed in the carriage. The driver had his instruc- 
 tions, and the couple entered and were driven to the North 
 American Hotel, in the Bowery. 
 
 They found Mr. and Mrs. Robinson's names on the book, 
 and were shown to their room. Rose was very grateful, and 
 ordered up her trunks. Walter and Henry Robinson left the 
 ladies together, and went down into the sitting-room, and had 
 a cosy chat about matters. 
 
 " I hope, Robinson," said Henry, " that I shall soon see 
 some opening in New York. I will never go to sea any more " 
 
 " Indeed, and by the way, what are you going to do with 
 that little girl Rose," asked Walter. 
 
 " Save her from destruction, if I can, and become steady 
 myself. And you, Walter, what are you going to do with 
 Clara ?'' replied Henry. 
 
 " Probably she will send me to destruction. I do not know.
 
 VIGOR. 309 
 
 I shall take my cbances. Where will I find you if you leave 
 her ?" asked Walter. 
 
 " I will always leave my address at the hotel for you," re- 
 plied Robinson. 
 
 Soon after Clara and Walter returned to Julia Brown's. 
 That lady was ripe for a row. She had heard of Clara's pro- 
 ceedings, and the course she had pursued with the sailor Wal- 
 ter was perfectly disgusting to the landlady. 
 
 " I wish you to quit these premises, Miss Clara, as soon as 
 you find it convenient. I won't have such carrying* on. You 
 put yourself up you make out yourself a lady, and put on 
 airs. Hoity-toity, what a long tail our pussy cat has got ! Get 
 out !" exclaimed Airs. Brown, choking with indignation. 
 
 " Leave my room, madam, instantly I" said Clara, for it was 
 in her parlor that this scene occurred. 
 
 " I will leave your parlor my parlor, that is. I don't as- 
 sociate with picked up common sailors, I don't," replied the 
 indignant Brown. 
 
 A decanter hurled by Walter at the head of the saucy land- 
 lady, and which dashed to pieces against the wall, brought the 
 dialogue to an end, and Mrs. Brown made good her retreat, 
 threatening police, and all sorts of vengeance. 
 
 Clara rang the bell. It was answered, and she a second time 
 ordered a carriage, and then told the messenger to say to Mrs. 
 Brown that Miss Norris would leave as soon as the carriage 
 was ready. Again Mrs. Brown came, and this time it was to 
 try to make up. 
 
 " Be it so I have nothing against you. Hand me fifty, 
 Julia, and we are quits." 
 
 The money was paid. It took some time to pack up all the 
 articles of apparel belonging to Miss Clara, but at last it was 
 completed, with Walter's assistance. The baggage almost 
 loaded down the coach, and when Clara and Walter entered it, 
 they had barely room to seat themselves. 
 
 " Where now ?" asked the driver. 
 
 Clara replied " Bond street," and gave him a card. 
 
 Walter made no observation until the carriage stopped at an 
 elegant house in Bond street. 
 
 " We will not go into the country for some days, Walter, 
 and I have brought you to a friend's residence, where we will 
 stay a short time," said Clara. 
 
 " Is she one of the other sort ?" asked Walter. 
 
 " No. She is a pious lady keeps her own carriage," re- 
 plied Clara.
 
 3 10 VIGOR. 
 
 Mrs. Woodruff was really glad to see Clara, and when she 
 introduced Walter Granville by his own name, she regarded 
 Clara with astonishment. 
 
 " la he the son of Pitt Granville ?" 
 
 " Yes, Mrs.* Woodruff ; -and you must make him at home for 
 his father's sake," replied Miss Norris. 
 
 Tea was soon after served, and Walter was more amazed 
 and more mystified than ever. The pious Mrs. Woodruff and 
 her palace and its solitude he could not pretend to fathom, and 
 did not try to do it. 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 Colonel Mae Neil's Last Night with His Family He ha* a Presentiment of 
 His Fate, and Prepares for it He is Knocked Down, Robbed, and Badly 
 Hurt in Franklin street Gets to 40 Centre street About Daybreak He 
 Dreads Delirium Tremens, and is Persuaded to go to the City Hospita' 
 Marion Monck goes up with him. 
 
 COLONEL MAC NEIL'S appearance in 27 Harrison street, under 
 any circumstances, was a welcome apparition. He carried 
 thither sunshine and happiness. His two children were de- 
 lighted, and a calm peace diffused itself through the bosom of 
 that mother. Miss Jane McPherson was an extraordinary 
 woman. She was Scotch, had many of the prejudices and opin- 
 ions of the Scotch people; she worshipped Mac Neil, and re- 
 garded his proud family and his descent as some thing so su- 
 perior to her own, that she never blamed him for not marrying 
 her, but framed excuses in her own heart fur his conduct. Her 
 soul was given to him and his children. If she sometimes 
 prayed that he might marry her, it was not from selfish con- 
 siderations, or from the thought that her position would be 
 more respectable. It was because, in her simple way of think- 
 ing, if the Colonel was her husband, he would live in the house 
 with her and the children, and she would be able to nurse, 
 tend, and care for him in sickness. 
 
 To the children he was affectionate and tender, and showed 
 more marked kindness than if they had been legitimate. Both 
 were attending the free .school in North Moore street, and were 
 making rapid progress in their studies. In these studies the 
 Colonel took a deep interest, and encouraged them to be pur- 
 sued on every visit. He never failed to bring them presents 
 of any thing that he thought they would like, and scarcely a
 
 VIGOR. 311 
 
 week passed that he did not send thorn a sufficiency of the best 
 of provisions for their maintenance. He would not suffer Jane to 
 broach the subject of money. He had not drawn a dollar from 
 their little fund since he made the settlement upon her. On 
 the contrary, he had added to it, at one time eight hundred 
 dollars, and in small sums to the extent of two hundred dol- 
 lars more. On the occasion of this visit, Colonel Mac Neil 
 was unusually kind and affectionate. He kissed the young 
 people fondly, and to Miss Jane he seemed perfectly devoted. 
 The good woman set out the table, and prepared a pleasant 
 spread for him. Soon after the Colonel made his appearance, 
 different porters arrived with things he had bought that he was 
 unable to bring himself. All seemed happy, but Miss Jane 
 felt a gloom that she could not account for. She had a pre- 
 sentiment of evil, and it was increased when the tea was over, 
 and the Colonel handed her a package. 
 
 " Jane," said the Colonel, " we are all liable to die, and I 
 have thought it best to write out an order for my few things in 
 case of any accident ever happening to me. I have a valuable 
 bureau old family papers in it that some day I want my son 
 to have. It is in the rear of No. 46 Centre street. The ownci- 
 of that store has rooms in his house to rent. I occupy a small 
 one, and in it are personal matters that I want to become my 
 son's. I have written all about these matters in the letter I 
 now give you. Should I die, I think it would be better that 
 you move out of New York. It is a bad place. You do not 
 know who to trust, and a lone, unprotected woman has a hard 
 time of it or if you do not choose to do that, send for your 
 father to come to New York. The old man would not refuse 
 to do so when I am dead and out of the way. But mind, I do 
 not wish to advise you against your own good common sense." 
 
 While the Colonel was delivering this melancholy address, 
 Miss Jane placed both hands to her face and wept. 
 , The Colonel kindly observed, " Don't be so foolish, Jane. 
 I have got. to die some day, and I say these unpleasant things 
 now, for they have got to be said some day, and it may as well 
 be done first as last. With my letter to you and to the chil- 
 dren in your possession, I feel relieved. I am rid of an un- 
 pleasant duty," and as if to confirm his words, the Colonel be- 
 gan to be quite merry. He told anecdotes, sang a few songs, 
 and when he said he must go, it seemed as though the children 
 would not let him do so. Poor Colonel Mac Neil. He kissed 
 them all affectionately, and left the house. It was near eleven 
 o'clock, and he hurried onward as fast as possible, hoping to
 
 312 VIGOR. 
 
 get as far as 46 Centre street before Harry closed up for the 
 night. He knew what time it was, for at tho moment of leav- 
 ing his children he took a gold repeater from his pocket and 
 looked at the hour. Then he looked at the massive chain and 
 the seal. He had frequently explained to his son that the seal 
 bore upon it the coat of arms of his family. He gave the watch 
 to his son, telling him he might wear it if he would be care- 
 ful of it. Then he added, playfully, " As you are going to 
 sport a gold watch, you ought to have corresponding clothes. 
 Let me see if I have got any money about me." He took from 
 his vest pocket a roll of money, and counted out fifty dollars. 
 "There, sir, that must do for you ; and you, Sissy," for so he 
 called his daughter, " you must have some, too," and he 
 handed her an equal sum. 
 
 " But Popsy, you have none left for yourself," exclaimed 
 Willy. 
 
 " Yes, I have over twenty dollars, and that is all I need to- 
 day, and if I get short to-morrow I will come and borrow of you 
 rich folks, eh ?" replied the father 
 
 This had occurred before he left 27 Harrison street, and as 
 we mentioned before, when he got into the street, the Colonel 
 knew that it was nearly eleven o'clock. He walked up to 
 Franklin street, and stopped for a moment to get a glass of 
 brandy in at Thomas Riley's Fifth Ward Hotel. Then he 
 passed across to Centre street, walking on the north side of 
 Franklin. Little tiid poor Mac fear that there was an enemy 
 on his track, watching every movement, and all fof the purpose 
 of securing his watch and the money he was supposed to have 
 about his person. But the Colonel's thoughts were of the 
 scene he had left, of the dear .spot where he had spent the 
 evening. He passed Elm street, and was opposite the 
 Tombs, on the side where the arsenal yard then stood. He 
 felt a blow, and stars sparkled in his eyes, and he remembered 
 no more. Tha first recollection after this was of partly lying 
 on a wet sidewalk close to the board fence. The rain was 
 pouring in torrents. It was pitch dark. The Tombs loomed 
 up opposite to him, and he only recognized that massive 
 Egyptian architecture by the light of the lamp over the Frank- 
 lin street entrance. The Colonel was amazed. He remained 
 still for some time, and tried to recollect what had happened. 
 " I must have fallen down ; but it did not rain when I was 
 walking. It is very queer. I certainly was not drunk ; and 
 where is my hat 7 It must be after eleven o'clock. I will 
 hurry on to Harry's place. He may not have shut up yet."
 
 VIGOR. 313 
 
 These were his thoughts. With great difficulty he stood upon 
 his feet. He could not find his hat. This annoyed him. The 
 idea of Colonel Mac Neil doing such a shocking Ahing as to 
 walk through the street without his hat worried him extremely, 
 lie had never had such a disrespectable affair occur during a 
 long life. He felt confident of one thing; he had not been so 
 drunk as not to know what he was about. Then he kept on to 
 Centre street. He walked walked and turned and looked 
 about him. Not a store was open, not a light visible, save the 
 lamps of the street. His head felt queeY, but he kept on. 
 Again and again did he stop and look about him. Not a place, 
 or corner, or house could he recognize. At last he came to an 
 open spot. It still rained, but as it poured upon his head, tho 
 Colonel seemed relieved. Then he found himself close to an 
 iron railing, and he sat down upon the stone foundation. "I 
 ought to know this spot," he exclaimed, aloud. Just then, di- 
 rectly over his head, pealed out the deep tones of a bell. 
 " One," " two," " three," " four," " five," he counted, and the 
 bell ceased to strike, and its dying notes vibrated off into the 
 upper air. " As I live, that is St. John's Church. This is 
 the park, and it is five o'clock. Great God ! what is the matter 
 with me ? This is the most singular thing that ever happened 
 to me in my life. I wi41 go to some hotel, for I feel weak." 
 He arose with difficulty, and tottered towards Hudson street. 
 Here he recognized his whereabouts, and he turned down town. 
 When he reached Harrison street, he recognized that street 
 " Ah ! there are my loved ones. I will go there ; but no, I 
 won't do it, either, poor things." Even in that hour of dis- 
 tress, sick, wet to the skin, without a hat, he preferred to suf- 
 fer himself rather than discompose Jane or disturb the rest of 
 his children. He turned up Chambers street, and walked 
 slowly across to Centre street. It was becoming lighter every 
 moment, and as he reached the store No. 46 Centre street, 
 Jemmy, the clerk, was opening the front door. The Colonel 
 got inside and grasped a chair. 
 
 " What do you want ]" exclaimed Jemmy. 
 
 " My God, Jemmy, it is me, Colonel Mac Neil." 
 
 In a moment Jemmy closed the door and lit one of the gas- 
 lights, and then as he gazed at the hatless Colonel, he ex- 
 claimed, " Gracious Heaven, Colonol, what has happened ?" 
 
 " Really, Jemmy, nothing particular. I've lost my hat some- 
 how," replied the Colonel. 
 
 " Why, you are covered with blood. You lip is cut open, 
 and your hair, Colonel, is filled with blood." 
 
 14
 
 314 VIGOR. 
 
 " I am faint, Jemmy. Give me a glass of spirits any thing,*' 
 said the exhausted man. 
 
 In a moment it wag procured and drank. 
 
 " Examine me, Jemmy, and see what is the matter." 
 
 Jemmy examined his head. In the back were two deep cuts, 
 from which the Colonel must have bled freely. Three front 
 teeth had been knocked out, and the under lip was laid open, 
 and fell down almost to the chin. Jemmy told him all this, 
 and went and procured a glass, in which the Colonel could see 
 reflected his ghastly, bloody appearance. 
 
 " I have had a severe fall." 
 
 " Fall, Colonel ! You have been knocked down. Where is 
 your money ?" 
 
 The Colonel attempted to put his hands in his vest pockets. 
 They were turned inside out. Not a cent was about him. 
 
 " I have been robbed," he exclaimed. " Knocked down and 
 robbed. That is it, is it not, Jemmy ? Well, I am thankful 
 that I have not brought myself into such a disrespectable po- 
 sition by being drunk." 
 
 " Had you much money atiout you, Colonel ?" asked Jemmy, 
 who exhibited the deepest sympathy for the Colonel's misfor- 
 tunes, and who had ever treated him with the greatest res 
 pect. 
 
 " I had, Jemmy, over a hundred and twenty dollars and my 
 gold watch and chain last night." 
 
 " And all is gone, Colonel ?" exclaimed Jemmy. 
 
 " No. Hang the rascal or rascals, they got bit, Jemmy. 
 I left my watch with some dear friends, and a hundred dollars 
 of my money also, so that I have only been robbed of about 
 twenty dollars. Curse them," said the Colonel, who seemt'i 
 pleased that he had done the pickpockets out of some plunde . 
 Do you suspect any one, Colonel ?" asked Jemmy. 
 I ? not one. No body that I know would rob me." 
 Who was with yolt last yesterday, in this place ?" 
 The Count Falsechinski, Monck and O'Doemall." 
 Did any one of them know that you had money, Colonel ? 
 asked Jemmy. 
 
 " To be sure they did. Two of them gave me what I had 
 and they certainly would not rob me of it," said Mac Neil. 
 
 " Not likely ; and the third one, Colonel, was Mr. O'Doemall 
 You yourself called him a scamp yesterday, and ordered him 
 out of the store. He saw that Count hand you the money. I 
 will bet all the money I have in the world, that Mr. O'Doemall
 
 VIGOR. SI 5 
 
 was the man who knocked you down and robbed you," ex- 
 claimed Jemmy. 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! Jemmy. That can't be. John O'Doemall is 
 a hard case, but he would not commit a robbery. Besides, how 
 could he know where I was to be found last night at eleven 
 o'clock ?" exclaimed Colonel Mac Neil. 
 
 " Well, Colonel, there is no proof of it, but my opinion can- 
 not be easily shaken, that the fellow O'Doemall robbed you 
 last night ; but I must open and put the store to rights," said 
 Jemmy. 
 
 " And I, Jemmy, will go and change my dirty linen and 
 wash up." 
 
 When the Colonel got bnck to his bureau and the glass, he 
 discovered that he was severely hurt, and the wounds pained 
 him extremely. He washed, changed his linen, arranged his 
 hair, and even while performing these operations, he called to 
 Jemmy to bring him a glass of brandy and sugar. 
 
 It had now become broad daylight. The rain had cleared 
 off, and the sun was up. It was a beautiful day. Presently 
 Harry, the proprietor, entered the store. He was the Colonel's 
 old porter, and he was much attached to him. He heard the 
 Colonel relate what had happened, and his sympathy was so 
 much excited that he went at once to a physician and brought 
 him to the store. The doctor sewed up the lip with a single 
 stitch. He dressed the wounds in the back of the Colonel's 
 head, but the Colonel continued to grow worse, and he felt 
 very weak. He drank again, and then Harry called his atten- 
 tion to the fact in this manner. 
 
 " Colonel, we are old friends, and I advise you to let up a 
 little. You have received two or three very ugly wounds, 
 you have a great deal of liquor in your system, and I afraid 
 that you will bring on inflammation of the brain or some other 
 thing, unless you give way a little." 
 
 The Colonel for once was cowed. He was not himself, and 
 was frightened. 
 
 " I know, Harry, all you would say. I feel as though I shall 
 have a fit of the horrors. I want to stop drinking, God knows, 
 but I can't. I must drink this morning. See how my very 
 hand shakes, and yet I have drank four glasses of brandy this 
 morning. Try and get me some thing that will lie on my 
 stomach. Make me an egg nogg, and put three raw eggs in it. 
 Don't be alarmed, Harry. I have drank so much recently, 
 that all I can get down now will not make me intoxicated. It 
 only brings me up to an even keel. I am drinking up on dead
 
 316 VIGOR. 
 
 liquor. If I were to knock off suddenly, I should die," said 
 the Colonel. 
 
 Harry went and procured the egg nogg, and Mac Neil got 
 it down. 
 
 " Now Mac Neil," said the good-natured rumseller, " don't 
 drink any more for some time." 
 
 " I will not indeed I will not ; I will keep quiet," said the 
 Colonel and he honestly intended to do so. 
 
 It was nearly nine o'clock before Marior Monck arrived. He 
 too had drank to excess the evening previous, and went at 
 once to the bar to procure ' a hair of the dog that had bitten 
 him' in other words, to get a mint julep. He had just finished 
 drinking it when Jemmy pointed out the Colonel in the rear 
 of the store, and told him what had happened. Marion was 
 shocked, and went at ! once to the Colonel, who appeared very 
 glad to see him. 
 
 " I am very ill, Marion," said he, in a low tone of voice. " I 
 feel I am getting worse every hour." 
 
 " Any thiog that I can do to relieve you, Colonel Mac Neil, 
 I will do cheerfully and willingly. Here comes Mr. Charles." 
 
 The latter approached, and after expressing his sympathy, 
 exclaimed, 
 
 " Colonel, you must be attended to without delay. You are 
 in a bad state ; why not allow us to take you to the hospital 1" 
 
 "The hospital! "why, my dear fellow, I have a horror 
 of that place ; but perhaps you are right. Can I have a 
 room there ?" asked the Colonel. 
 
 " Certingly. Good physician, good nurse, and all that sort 
 of thing. It will only cost twelve dollars to enter, and I don't 
 think you will be there a week. A few days' nursing will 
 bring you around all right," replied Charley. 
 
 " But the money, man ! I was robbed last night, and have 
 none left." 
 
 " Not a word about that. I have plenty, and will go at once 
 to the hospital and make arrangements for your reception. I 
 know them all up there, and it will be all right," exclaimed 
 Marion. 
 
 ".Good boy fine boy. Do as you please ; and Charley, you 
 will remain with me ; don't leave me till I go up there, eh ?" 
 was the Colonel's request. 
 
 " No, old fellow, I will stay by you ; never say die. You 
 are worth a dozen dead men yet," said Charles. 
 
 " Charles, you are experienced. I have a dread of having 
 the delirium tremens a horrible dread of it Now if I go to
 
 VIGOR. 317 
 
 the hospital, and they cut me off short with tod, God knows 
 what will become of me. If they let me taper off give me a 
 little now and then, to keep the nerves braced, I think I shall 
 get over it, eh ?" pleadingly put in poor Mac, woo was awfully 
 scared, and well he might be. 
 
 " They know just what to do up at the hospital ; have no 
 fear, Colonel. But here comes Marion. Well, what suc- 
 cess ?" asked Charles. 
 
 ' I have paid the twelve dollars, informed Mr. Roberts 
 about you, 'and at any moment when you are ready to go, we 
 will accompany you. You need not take any things, for I will 
 come and see you every day," replied Marion. 
 
 The Colonel drew a long sigh, then cast a look at the bu- 
 reau, and exclaimed, " Good bye, old mahogany. I don't 
 know that I am doing right. I feel bad, and sadly perplexed. 
 I have an idea that 1 shall never see this place or my old bu- 
 reau again. I will die game, though, if I am to die but I 
 must have a drink before 1 start. Jemmy, make a stiff glass 
 of old brandy and sugar.* Suppose you all join uic who knows 
 but it may be my last drink ?" 
 
 The drinks were taken all round. Harry the proprietor ap- 
 proved highly of the course that the-Colonel had determined 
 to pursue. He was afraid that he should have trouble, and he 
 had no idea but that the hospital was the best place for the 
 Colonel under the circumstances. All hands talked cheeringly 
 to the desponding Colonel, until at last he felt cheered up him- 
 self. He shook hands with all except Marion and Mr. Charles, 
 who were to accompany him to the hospital, see him safe in- 
 side his room, and then return. 
 
 They reached the open gate on Broadway, and the Colonel 
 halted for a moment, and looked up* and down the street as 
 though he expected to see some one. Then as he passed the 
 inner gate where the gate-keeper's house is, Mac observed, "I 
 hope my case in entering this gate is not like one of those 
 where ' he who enters here leaves hope behind,' eh ? . I hope 
 1 am not in that category, Marion ?" 
 
 Marion replied soothingly and yet he felt embarrassed. He 
 did not know that he was doing right, and he could not make 
 up his mind that he was doing wrong. If, for a moment, the 
 least idea had flashed across his mind, he would have faced 
 about and taken the Colonel back to 46 Centre street. The 
 party rcaqhed the office, and directions were given to conduct 
 Colonel Mac Neil to a certain ward. A nurse was sent for, 
 and he led the way, followed by the three persons. Wheu
 
 318 VIGOR. 
 
 they reached the right ward the nurse opened the door, and all 
 entered. The door closed, and Marion noticed that it locked 
 itself. 
 
 The Colonel, as soon as he saw where he was, exclaimed, 
 " Why, this is not a single room ! I am not going to remain 
 here !" 
 
 The nurse replied readily, " Oh, certainly not. We will 
 have a room ready for the gentleman presently. He can 
 remain here for the present, and he had better lie down for a 
 moment." This was said kindly, and the Colonel; who was 
 completely exhausted, observed, 
 
 " Well, 1 will lay down a moment. Marion, Charles, you 
 need not remain. I may sleep a moment. Come back to-mor- 
 row, Marion hear ?" 
 
 Marion said he would do so. The nurse applied a key to the 
 door, opened it, and as the two passed into the hall the door 
 closed and locked again. " I am not exactly pleased with all 
 this business. Why is not the Colonel's room ready ?" asked 
 Marion. 
 
 " Nonsense. He will have no room except that or the inner 
 lock-up. Why, that is the delirium tremens ward, and there 
 Mac will be kept until he* dies or gets over it," coolly replied 
 Mr. Charles. 
 
 " Good God. You don't mean to say there is any danger of 
 his dying of delirium 1 ?" asked Marion. 
 
 " He is pretty near it. He will have the delirium tremens 
 most certainly. He may die. He may not. But he may as well 
 die in that room as in the street. Besides, with all the rum 
 he has got in his blood, and the bad cuts upon his head, he 
 will have a bad time of it," said Mr. Charles. 
 
 When the two reached Broadway, they separated. 
 
 CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 Thomas Granville A Genttel Loafer's Daily Record Chfap Lodging 
 Houses The Liberal Sti anger .Tom in Funds or,ctt more The Strung* r 
 Walter (rranville places Him at the llottl d*i jParw Dialogue Heltveen 
 Walter drai.ville and Alias A/orris About Tim. 
 
 AFTER the return of Thomas Granville from Europe, his for- 
 tunes became desperate. He seemed past hope. He had 
 been down upon the ground. The human car was off the track. 
 The President of the United State! stern old Hickory had
 
 VIGOR. 319 
 
 picked him up, placed him on solid ground, and started him a 
 new man. He went out Consul to a city in Prance, and could 
 have restored himself to position, wealth and influence. Un- 
 der the sad guidance of Clara Norris, he had ruined his repu- 
 tation, squandered his property, and completely used up those 
 friends who had re-rallied about him. He had not been in the 
 city of New York many days before he fully realized the con- 
 trast between holding an official position, having plenty of 
 money, and recognized by respectable relatives, and the loss 
 of all these advantages. How he lived, no man but himself 
 ever knew. He managed sometimes to make a few shillings 
 by singing at a garden concert, or a free concert in some by 
 street. He went to such places and performed under an as- 
 sumed name. He might have used his real one ; no one would 
 have troubled his head about him. Sometimes Tom was almost 
 in despair, for he really suffered. He went to "haunts fre- 
 quented by old friends aird acquaintances. There he could 
 always obtain a drink, and nibble a cracker and cheese. As 
 days passed on, matters grew worse, instead of better. It was 
 rare that Tom Granville had over a quarter. He had no regu- 
 lar place to sleep, but found a bed in some lodging. If he had 
 three shillings, he went to Tammany JEIall. If only a quarter, 
 to a neat lodging-house in Pearl street, near Broadway. If 
 only a shilling, Tom went to a lodging-house in Chatham street, 
 near Duane. There he got a bed in a room where several oth- 
 ers slept, and Tom had to be satisfied. It was better than 
 sleeping in the Park, or walking the streets in a cold winter 
 night. Sometimes Tom would be the delight of an audience 
 in a low bar-room where liquor was sold for three cents a glass, 
 and his droll stories in a dark room in a lodging-house to the 
 other queer lodgers in the various beds, would make the occu- 
 pants scream with laughter, and their first questions at day- 
 break would be for the funny man who had told stories or sang 
 songs in the dark the night previous. What a happy disposi- 
 tion, that amid scenes like these, and hardships even worse 
 than we have narrated, could keep up and lose none of its elas- 
 ticity. 
 
 There was scarcely a low priced lodging-house in the lower 
 part of New York that had not had the honor of having, as a 
 lodger, Thomas Granville. Occasionally, there would be ad- 
 ventures connected with them of a very ludicrous character. 
 
 Late at night, on one occasion, Tom found that he had a sol- 
 itary shilling left. He wanted a drink badly. The place in 
 which he found himself was a three cent shop in Cross street,
 
 320 TIG OK. 
 
 kept by Peter Melville. There were several loafers around 
 the stove, for it was a bitter cold night. Tom knew them all, 
 but not one had a cent, and business was at a dead stand. The 
 excellent Melville showed symptoms of closing up. Tom was 
 dry. He was as dry as a pump is said to be when there is not 
 a drop of water in it. He determined to have one more drink, 
 anyhow. The landlord looked untrusling. Tom drew near the 
 bar. 
 
 " My lord Melville, will you give me a glass of your most 
 excellent, I might say exquisite whiskey V 
 
 " Have you got the money to pay for it, Tom ?" asked the 
 proprietor. 
 
 " Excellent Melville, I regret to say I have not, but assur- 
 edly, if you will trust me until this hour to-morrow, by Her- 
 cules, the three cents shall be in your hands," said Tom. 
 
 " I won't do it," replied Melville^ 
 
 " Inexorable Melville, say not so. Remember, worthy sou 
 of the land where Wallace bled, that ' 'Tis a little thing to give 
 a glass of Scotch whiskey. But its draught of warm refresh- 
 ment, drained by chilled lips, will give a shock of pleasure to 
 the frame more exquisite than when wine its nectarine riches 
 pours.' Ah, stern man, pour out one glass, for poor Tom's 
 a-cold." 
 
 The comic look which Tom gave the keeper, as he pro- 
 nounced these words, upset the Scotchman's gravity. He 
 handed over the decanter to Tom, and told him to help himself. 
 " But no more, Tom, to-night," he added. Tom drank off. the 
 wine, and then continued, " ' 'Tis a little thing to speak a word 
 of kindness, but falling upon the ear of him who thought to die 
 unmourned, it sounds like gentlest music.' You have spoken 
 that word to me, my Melville, and I thank you. Good night," 
 and Tom felt in his pocket to see that his shilling was safe 
 to pay for his lodging, and then hurried out into the cold air to 
 go and seek his lodging-house. He paid his shilling and hast- 
 ened up to the room, where he found a dozen men in different 
 beds. He selected one that was unoccupied, and was soon fast 
 asleep. In the morning, he was up by daylight, for he was 
 almost crazy to get a drink of water grog any thing. Ho 
 hastened down stairs. There was a bar in the room, and pie 
 was kept upon a plate at one end of it. The boy was dressing 
 when Tom came down. 
 
 " I'll let you out in a moment, Mister," he said. 
 
 " Hurry, then," replied Tom, and he put his hand in his coat 
 pocket.
 
 VIGOR. 321 
 
 The boy had his eye upon him. 
 
 " None of that. I saw you. Put that back again," said the 
 boy, as he approached Tom, angrily. 
 
 " What do you mean ? What are you talking about ?" said 
 the unconscious Tom. 
 
 " You just put that piece of mince pie back on the t plate, or 
 pay me two cents for it," said the boy, in a very determined 
 manner." 
 
 Tom began to understand. " Why, you impudent son of a 
 gun, do you mean to insinuate that I have taken any of your 
 uasty pie ?" exclaimed Tom, indignantly. 
 
 " I know you put it in your pocket. I saw you whan you 
 did it. Fork over," said the boy, or rather the young man, for 
 he was full grown. 
 
 This was too much for our philosopher Tom. The young 
 man seized him, and Tom then gave him a blow which sent him 
 reeling. In a moment he had unlocked and opened the door, 
 and was in Chatham street, and he ran as if for life. He felt 
 how ridiculous it would be to be arrested for knocking the fel- 
 low down, and to be charged, too, .with stealing two cents' 
 worth of mince pice. He Thomas Grranville ex-Consul to 
 a city in France ! He ran the faster as he thought of all these 
 things, and never stopped until he was near Melville's, where 
 he had spent the previous evening. Melville's place was not 
 open, but a few doors below there was a grog-shop opened. In 
 his emergency, Tom entered that, approached the stove, and 
 took a seat. How the slightest circumstance will sometimes 
 etfect a change in one's whole life. Jemmy, the bar-keeper of 
 Harry, hud just opened and fixed up the place. He made an 
 observation to Tom that it was a cold morning. Tom replied, 
 and then roared with laughter. Jemmy was not exactly 
 pleased, and Tom good-naturedly related the pie story and his 
 narrow escape. The comic manner in which Tom related it 
 was inimitable, and Jemmy joined in as chorus. Jemmy then 
 invited Tom Granville to take a drink. The invitation was 
 .most cheerfully accepted. Jemmy was pleased. He also took 
 a djink. It was cold outside, and they were seated by a warm 
 fire. Its genial influence warmed out Tom, and in less than au 
 hour he had Jemmy so completely fascinated that Tom could 
 have been treated with the whole shop. 
 
 Tom had no coat, and his clothes were seedy. His boots 
 were nearly gone, and his shirt, it had not been changed for a 
 month or more. His hat shone bright, but it was napless, and 
 yet Tom was as merry this cold morning as if he had the wealth
 
 322 VIGOR. 
 
 of Astor. Later that morning customers began to arrive, aud 
 Jemmy had to go behind the bar, leaving Tom puffing a cigar 
 at the stove, and seemingly quite happy. Just then a customer 
 of a different character entered the place, approached the bar, 
 and ordered a drink. He wore a fur cap and a bearskin over- 
 coat. He had partly finished the drink he had ordered when 
 his eyes rested upon the pleasant face of Tom. 
 
 " Great God ! it cannot be possible !" he exclaimed, and then, 
 with the glass in bis hand, went and sat himself in a chair next 
 to Tom Granville. " Excuse me, sir, but is not your name 
 Thomas Granville ?" asked the stranger. 
 
 " I was once Sir Thomas Granville, Esquire. I am- now 
 Tom Granville, or plain Tom, at your service," and a comic 
 smile played over his expressive features. 
 
 " When have you seen your brother Pitt Granville T" the 
 stranger asked. 
 
 " Pitt yes my brother Pitt. Oh, it is a long time since I 
 have seen Pitt, but it is much longer since he has seen me," 
 said Tom, with feeling. 
 
 " Then you and your brother have quarrelled, eh ?" 
 
 " No, sir. I never quarrel with my brother. He has, for 
 good reasons, I dare say, done with me. That is his business ; 
 not ours, sir," said Tom. 
 
 " Suppose you join me in a drink, Mr. Granville." 
 
 " Mr. Granville ! Certingly, with pleasure. Jemmy a 
 glass of hot toddy my private bottle, you understand. I am 
 much obliged to you, sir," said Tom. 
 
 " You once had a nephew, Walter Granville, what has be- 
 come of him ?" the stranger continued. 
 
 " Ah, there you touch me. A fine boy a noble boy gone 
 to sea. Unheard of for years. Dead probably. The good 
 aye die young. A family affair, sir. Here is to your very 
 good health," said Tom. Had he noticed the stranger, he 
 would have observed that -he appeare'd to be very much af- 
 fected. 
 
 " Your own wife, Mr. Granville, where is she ?" asked the 
 stranger. 
 
 " In Baltimore, living with her grandmother. She is di- 
 vorced from me," replied Tom. 
 
 " So I have heard. What ever became of one of her sis- 
 ters '(" asked the stranger. 
 
 " Which one ? She had several," asked Tom. 
 
 " Madison Pinckney," said the stranger, with feeling. 
 
 " Oh ; she married a young fellow named Charles Wharton,
 
 VIGOR. 323 
 
 and has moved to Columbus, Ohio. A very good match, I am 
 told. Have you got any more questions to ask ? If you have, 
 propel ahead. I am ready to answer to the best of my ability," 
 observed Tom. 
 
 " No ; I have no more to ask about your family. I have one 
 to ask about yourself. Suppose, Mr. Granville, that I, a stran- 
 ger, should say to you, ' Mr. Granville, go with me to different 
 stores. Buy an overcoat, a coat, a vest a pair of pantaloons, a 
 pair of boots, a new hat, shirts, underclothes, socks, a necktie, 
 and any thing else that a gentleman needs, and I will pay for 
 them,' what would you reply ? and what would you think of me 
 when I, as I do now, make you such an offer ?" said the 
 stranger. 
 
 " I should say yes, and I should think that you were a par- 
 ticular d d fool," replied honest Tom. 
 
 " Perhaps I should be ; but why do you think so, Mr. Gran- 
 ville ?" pleasantly asked the stranger. 
 
 " Because, sir, I am poor. I am dead broke. I don't have 
 food half of the time. How long do you think, under such cir- 
 cumstances, I should keep my good clothes ? Why sir, in less 
 than a week, or a month at most, those articles would all go to 
 a pawnbroker, and I should fall back upon the old rags, sir. 
 That is truth don't you think it is, Jemmy ?'' said Tom, as he 
 aprealed to Jem, who had been an attentive listener for some 
 moments. 
 
 " It may be, but if the gentleman makes you the offer I 
 would accept it. It won't do you any harm to do so," said 
 Jemmy. 
 
 The stranger rose. " Come, Mr. Granville, and go with me. 
 When you have all these things I have named, then we must 
 try and get some money, or food, or a place to board. One 
 thing at a time. Will you go ?" he asked. 
 
 " I will but first let me ask who you are V said Tom. 
 
 ' Call me Smith, until we are better acquainted," replied 
 the stranger. 
 
 " Well Smith, you are a devilish gnod-looking young fellow, 
 but decidedly mad. I will go with you." 
 
 The parties left the place, and left a wondering set of people 
 in it. Jemmy the bar-keeper was the most astonished of all. 
 He could not make it out. 
 
 It was near midday before Tom Granville and hi^ friend 
 Smith returned to 46 Centre street Thomas Granville was a 
 different person. He was dressed like a gentleman, and his 
 actions did not belie his dress. Every article was new, and of
 
 324 VIGOR. 
 
 the finest quality. The stranger evidently did not do tilings 
 by halves. He ordered drinks for all in the room. When 
 they had been taken, he said to Thomas Granville, " Now sir, 
 I will bid you good-bye ; but I will meet you at your hotel 
 this evening at precisely seven o'clock, Remember what you 
 have promised, and don't break it. Good-bye." 
 
 Tom shook his head, and after he had left, he observed to 
 Jemmy, " That chap is mad quite mad." 
 
 " What did he mean by your hotel, eh ?" asked Jemmy. 
 
 " Mean ? Why I am stopping at a hotel. It is Vigin's 
 French Hotel de Paris, corner of Reade street and Broadway, 
 No. 34 best room in the house. Paid my board one month 
 in advance, thirty-two dollars eight dollars a week, eh ? See 
 the receipt. What do you think of that, Jemmy ?" said the 
 delighted Tom. 
 
 " Who can he be ? What was the promise ?" asked Jemmy. 
 
 " Smith is his name I promised not to get very drunk, but 
 to be sober at seven o'clock this evening. Bless your heart, 
 I will be as sober as a judge !" exclaimed the enthusiastic Tom. 
 
 " He is a good friend," observed Jemmy. 
 
 " He gave me ten dollars, and advised me to pay what I 
 owed here, or any where else in a small way. How much do 
 I owe you, Jemmy ?" asked Tom. 
 
 " Not a red cent, Mr. Granville. You are perfectly welcome 
 to what you have had," replied Jemmy. 
 
 " Thank you, Jemmy. But what a breakfast we had at that 
 French hotel ! O my ! That Smith understands good living. 
 He is, a perfect prince," exclaimed Tom. 
 
 We must now follow the stranger. He had no sooner parted 
 from Thomas Granville, than he turned his course to Bond 
 street, and entered the house of Mrs. Woodruff. He walked 
 up stairs, and entered the front room on the second floor. 
 There was a lady in the room, who rose as he entered. He 
 gave her an affectionate kiss, and observed, 
 
 " A thousand thanks, dear Clara, for enabling me to do a 
 good deed. 0, if you knew how fur that hundred dollars haa 
 gone ! But sit down, and let me tell you all about poor Tom." 
 
 She listened, and he related the particulars of the interview 
 which our readers are aware of. She wept, and at last observed, 
 " If it will only do any good, I shall be glad. I do it and 
 will <ft more but mind me, Walter, it is for you, not for Tom. 
 I have come to hate him to luite him," she repeated, em- 
 phatically. 
 
 " Never mind your motive, dear Clara. You have enabled
 
 VIGOR. 325 
 
 me to benefit my uncle, and I thank you for so doing," said 
 Walter Granville, for he was the stranger that had so electri- 
 fied the crowd at No. 46 Centre street. 
 
 " And will Tom come up here to-night with you?" she asked. 
 
 " He will, and then I will tell him who I am, and that I 
 should not have been able to do what I have but for you. Now 
 let us go and walk. Are you ready ?'' said Walter. 
 
 " I will be in half an hour remain quiet until then." And 
 she left the room. 
 
 CHAPTER LIT. 
 
 The New York City Ho^italA sad Chapter &l,nt I Mac Nel in tht 
 Jhlirium TremeriS Ward Stern Tnatm-nt of Patients in th it Ward 
 The attack of th-- Mnniac vpon the Jt-fidtnt Physician The Colonfl 
 chained 7/i* De-i'h Th-body in the Dt.d House The horro- of AJtirivn 
 Monclc Distress in Ilarihon street Tht BMy <f tlie Colonel taken to his 
 
 Home. 
 
 
 
 THOSE who pass up and down Broadway in the great city, 
 must have noticed on its west side the dark, gloomy building 
 known as the " New York Hospital." Seen from the street, 
 it looks like some gloomy old castle, with its iron railing, the 
 green lawn, tue venerable elms, and the gate-keeper's lodge. 
 It is a pleasant place to look at from the outside, and but few 
 are aware of the horrors that are daily witnessed inside. The 
 stabbed, the accidentally injured, the suicide who has only 
 partly done his work, the almost maniac, on the eve of deiirium 
 treinens, pass inside those iron gates without notice or com- 
 ment. Sailors who have paid United States Hospital moncv, 
 no matter what may be their disease, are entitled to be received 
 into that hospital free of charge, to the extent of one hundred 
 at a time. The sick or wounded man who can raise twelve 
 dollars to pay the admission foe, can find a home and medical 
 attendance until he is cured by medicine or death. In either 
 case he pays no more than the twelve dollars. 
 
 In the basement floor of what is called the North building 
 is one large room, capable of holding five or six small iron 
 bedsteads^ The door has a strong spring lock, and fastens of 
 itself. IThe large window to this room is strongly barred with 
 great stout iron bars, that no human strength can wrench or 
 tear asunder. There are three doors that lead out of this room. 
 One opens into a ceil, where there is no window. Nothing
 
 326 VIGOR. 
 
 but four solid walls, and an iron bedstead. Not an article of 
 furniture else is in this room. Another door leads to a bath 
 room. Here too the windows are barred with iron staunch- 
 ions. Another opens into the nurse's room, and this door also 
 closes with a spring lock, and like the main door, has to be 
 opened with a key. This room or ward is called the delirium 
 tremens ward of the Hospital. Into this are thrust those pa- 
 tients who are brought to the hospital laboring under this fear- 
 ful malady, or when it is suspected that it will break out, from 
 the fact that the patient has been drinking freely, and has suf- 
 fered or is suffering from want of sleep. This is the most 
 fearful ward in the Hospital, and the nurse, as a matter of 
 self-preservation for his own life, and the lives of those en- 
 trusted to his care, is a man of experience, and perfectly hard- 
 hearted. He knows no feeling, until actual observation has 
 convinced him of the danger or absence of it, in a new patient. 
 No mildness, no manner or language of a perfect gentleman, 
 no money can disarm for a moment the fear of the nurse for a 
 new comer. The moment a patient, is committed to his ward, 
 he is aivare tkat madness is the main complaint, and he is on 
 the watch for its appearance in any shape or at any moment. 
 His doors are locked. His eyes are as watchful as a cat's. 
 He orders a new patient to undress and go to bed. Frequently 
 the patient refuses. Force is at once used, and he is placed 
 on the iron bedstead, and every particle of clothing is removed 
 to the nurse's own room. If the patient becomes more obstre- 
 perous, he is at once pinioned to the bed, or a straight jacket 
 put upon him, and a hand chained to each side of the bed. This 
 confinement of itself would almost drive a sane man mad. If 
 the patient becomes raving, then the scene is changed. He 
 is passed into the dark cell, where the solitary iron bedstead 
 is, and where no article of furniture can be found to aid him in 
 self-destruction. Then the patient may yell with horror, or 
 utter screams that thrill the stoutest nerves, or die in madness. 
 The door is strong the walls are thick, and but little is heard 
 by others, however fearful the agony. Sometimes the patient 
 tires out the patience "of the nurse, and then he forgets the 
 rules, and beats his patient into submission until death takes 
 up the cudgels, and finishes what the indignant nurse had only 
 begun. 
 
 The regular house physician, or the visiting surgeon, never 
 enter this ward without fear, and a full appreciation of the dan- 
 ger. As a consequence, when a patient is placed in this ward, 
 the very circumstances attending his being there, or the mere
 
 VIGOR. 327 
 
 fact that he is there, shuts him out from all human sympathy 
 and kindness. The poor inebriate who is suffering the horrors 
 of abstinence from drink, who needs kind words, and encour- 
 agement, and soothing, gets none in this ward. He sees others 
 chained down to the iron beds he hears the horrid screams 
 of the one in the dungeon he sees them die in beds alongside 
 of his own he hears the fearful screams until death seals the 
 lips. If he had not the seeds of delirium already in his blood, 
 all these things, and such horrid surroundings would make 
 him mad. Many hundreds of worthy men, who have died un- 
 lamented in the delirium tremens ward of the Hospital, might 
 now have been alive and well, had the friends or relations who 
 placed them there have exercised a little forbearance and a 
 little kindness. That treatment of a man who has been drink- 
 ing until his nerves are burning wires, who cannot sleep, which 
 suddenly cuts off the spirit which has caused the difficulty and 
 the danger, and leaves the shattered nerves to sustain the 
 additional horrors of confinement among madmen, is murder 
 and such is the practice hourly in the delirium tremens ward 
 of the New York Hospital. 
 
 Blessed be those gallant, glorious men who have inaugurated 
 a new era in this matter who have started into existence the 
 " Inebriate Asylum." 
 
 When Colonel Mac Neil was placed in the ward we have 
 been describing, and left there by Marion Monck and Mr. 
 Charles, he laid down upon one of the iron bedsteads. He 
 dozed for a few moments, and then rose up. 
 
 " Lie down," said the nurse Patrick. 
 
 " Who are you addressing me ? Where is my room, sir ? 
 I will not remain here any longer," said the indignant Colonel; 
 and he marched proudly to the door. Of course he found it 
 fastened. " Open the door, sir," he continued. 
 
 Nurse Patrick went to another door, and called to a sort of 
 assistant. The other man came. 
 
 " Look here, Colonel, you must take off your clothes and go 
 to bed. We are not going to have none of your nonsense 
 here," said Patrick. 
 
 " Where is my room, sir ?" asked the Colonel. 
 
 " 0, blast you and your room ! This is all the room you wiil 
 have iu this building. Come, strip, or I'll do it for you," said 
 the nurse, and he approached the Colonel, who stood near the 
 door. 
 
 " Stand off, I say ! or if you touch me I will make you suffer 
 for it. I have never heard of such impudence !"
 
 328 VIGOR. 
 
 The Colonel, as he said this, placed himself in an attitude of 
 defence. 
 
 "Help me, Bill," exclaimed Nurse Patrick; and at the 
 same moment he suddenly jumped upon the astonished Col- 
 onel. He was overpowered in a twinkling, and the nurse and 
 his assistant flung him on his back upon the vacant bed. 
 
 " This is outrageous ! infamous ! where is the Superin- 
 tendent? I am a gentleman ; what do you mean? Are you 
 going to kill me ?" muttered poor Mac Neil. But it was of no 
 use ; in a moment he was stripped to his shirt ; and then his 
 clothes, hat, boots, and all of his apparel was taken to another 
 room. 
 
 " Now get into bed and keep quiet, or it will be worse for 
 you," said the nurse Patrick. 
 
 The Colonel saw that resistance was useless ; he made no 
 further efforts, but determined to complain to the doctor when 
 he saw him. There were other patients in the room, but Mac 
 Neil did not notice them. He lay awake, and moments seemed 
 hours, but at last the visiting doctors came one old man and 
 two young ones. They sat by the bed, and the eldest kept 
 examining Mac's wounds. The Colonel began to tell who he 
 was, and to complain of the treatment. 
 
 " You have been drinking, sir, and you are placed here to 
 be cured, and we will try and cure you ; when that is done we 
 shall listen to your complaints. Meantime you must try and 
 get some sleep. Your condition, without you get sleep, will 
 be a critical one," said the elder doctor. 
 
 The Colonel began to realize his position : he asked the 
 doctor if he thought he was really very unwell. 
 
 " Yes ; you will probably be delirious unless you get sleep. 
 I will order some medicine that will give you sleep probably. 
 It may not. How long since you have had any sleep ?" 
 
 The Colonel replied that he had nut slept well for several 
 nights. 
 
 " I am very nervous now. Could I not have a glass of 
 brandy and water ?'' 
 
 The old doctor smiled, and so did his two assistants, and 
 they passed on to the next patient. Soon after they left the 
 ward ; and the nurse, who had received some directions, came 
 to the bedside of the Colonel. 
 
 " How do you feel now ?" he asked in a kinder' tone than 
 usual. 
 
 " Very bad indeed. I am really sick. I would like to get 
 up #nd put on my clothes," said the Colonel.
 
 VIGOR. 329 
 
 " Can't he allowed. You must get some sleep before you 
 are allowed to sit up," replied the nurse. 
 
 " Then I will try and get some sleep," said poor Mac Neil. 
 
 He did try, but there was a fire in his veins that would not 
 let him sleep. Tea came ; he tried to swallow it, but his 
 nerves were so unstrung that he could not hold the cup to his 
 mouth, and he fell back upon the bed. Then came the long 
 hours of that night. Moments only passed, and yet the Colonel 
 dreamed of horrid matters and doings that would have taken 
 hours to perform. He would start up in his bed, and a cold 
 sweat poured from his brow. The building seemed to totter ; 
 the room turned round; the sickly lamp seemed to be glowing 
 meteors. He would satisfy his mind that all was imagination, 
 and then the horrid thought would cross his mind that he was 
 going mad. In a moment more he would doze, and then he 
 would be with his darling children. Oh what happiness ! the 
 loved mother was there. Then snakes would come among them 
 hateful, venomous reptiles, with unheard of forms, and his 
 children would be snatched away, and he would raise himself 
 in bed. " Lie down," the nurse would sing out. All his 
 dreams had been but a moment transpiring. 
 
 By and bye the nurse would come again. " Take this the 
 doctor ordered it." The Colonel hesisated, but took the tea- 
 spoon in his hand, and swallowed the contents. " Two hours 
 hence you are to take another one," said the nurse. " Now lie 
 down and try to sleep it is all that you can do, or that any 
 body can do for you ; it is sleep or die." The Colonel would 
 lie down again. In a moment he saw the doctor slyly enter, 
 and pass to the nurse's room ; he heard them whisper softly 
 to each other. One said, " Yes, I have given him the dose. 
 It will kill him ; then we will take his body up stairs, and no- 
 body will know it; he will make a good subject." The other 
 replied, " I must not be known in the matter. He is Colonel 
 Mac Neil. His friends don't care about him while he is alive, 
 but when he is dead they may ask about him." 
 
 Mac heard all this dreadful conspiracy. He sat up in the 
 bed, but there was no one in the room. " Aha ! kill me, will 
 they ?" He jumped out of bed and seized a wooden bench. 
 ' I will not die without a struggle." 
 
 The doctor had passed through the room, but it was to take 
 a bath ; the nurse was in his own room, occupied with some 
 business, but the poor victim, (for Mac was now delirious,) 
 thought he had heard all this talk, and he was ready. 
 
 The doctor came out of the bath room. No sooner did Mao
 
 330 VIGOR. 
 
 see him, than elevating the stool he exclaimed,*" Poison me, 
 you d d doctor, will you ?'' and made a blow with the bench 
 at his head. Had it hit him, he never would have prescribed 
 for any more patients. The doctor dodged it, but fell. In a 
 moment the Colonel was upon him. The nurse, hearing the 
 struggle, came in, and at once fastened upon the Colonel, and 
 choked him until he released the doctor. Then more help 
 came, and at last, they got the raving man upon the bed, and 
 then passing a chain over him, fastened his hands and legs so 
 that he could not move. " He is safe now, doctor," said the 
 nurse. " You had a narrow escape, doctor : lucky I came in. 
 I thought we should have trouble with him ; he has been a 
 hard drinker." 
 
 " Yes, Patrick, don't let him loose again until I see you ; he 
 is very dangerous. I don't think he will get over it, though 
 he may if he gets sleep to-night," and with these remarks the 
 doctor passed out and got a good night's sleep, leaving orders 
 to keep poor Mac chained until morning. 
 
 The struggles of the Colonel when he found himself made 
 fast, were foarful. Sometimes it seemed as though he would 
 either break the chain and fastenings, or wrench off his wrists. 
 His torrents of curses and reproaches were horrible. The other 
 patients who had gone through the ordeal and were getting 
 well, could not sleep, but they sat up in their beds and watched 
 the rum maniac. " For the love of God, take those snakes off 
 my hand!" " Oh Graham, you deserved a better fate." " Poor 
 Will ! my bright, beautiful boy." " There ! there ! what a 
 horrid snake !" " Water ! give me water !" these expressions 
 and a thousand others, gave a key to the thoughts which were 
 passing in the poor maniac's mind. Sometimes he would utter 
 scream after scream of agonized horror ; then he would weep 
 as though his heart would break : and so he continued all that 
 night. Towards morning he seemed to be getting quiet. 
 
 " I am glad of that," said the nurse to his companion. 
 
 " I thought, Bill, we would have to lock him up. But he is 
 pretty quiet now, and I am going to have a snooze." 
 
 " Day broko, and soon after the light came through the large 
 window, and fell upon the chained man's countenance. The 
 patient in the next bed appeared to notice something unusual. 
 lie observed to another patient, " I believe that man is dying. 
 It is enough to kill any one to be treated so chained down all 
 night. What a perfect gentleman he is, too !" 
 
 The other patient added, " He don't make no noise now. Is 
 he asleep ? Take a look."
 
 VIGOR. 331 
 
 The other cftd look, and placed his hand upon the forehead 
 of Colonel Mac Neil. " My God, he is dead. Let us call tlie 
 nurse." 
 
 " Don't call him let him find it out. He knows he will 
 get the gentleman's clothes, and that is all he cares about," 
 said the other patient. 
 
 The Colonel lay thus cold and unconscious, and the other 
 patients soon went to sleep. Later the nurse Patrick entered, 
 and went to the bedside of Mac Neil. " Dead, eh ?" and then 
 he opened the door and went to the office to report. Such 
 things are very common in that old building. The nurse was 
 gone a few moments. When he returned, he was followed by 
 two other men. They all then assisted to place the body upon 
 a sort of bier, and carried it out of the ward down to the dead 
 house, and then placed it upon the table to await further orders. 
 There was no noise and no fuss at such a melancholy termina- 
 tion to a man's life in the hospital, as there would have been 
 in a private mansion. No message was sent out to any body, 
 for that is not the business of people in the hospital. People 
 go to the hospital with one of two objects to accomplish to 
 get well or to die. Colonel Mac Neil was dead, and if his 
 fripnds discovered it well and good ; if not, his body would be 
 taken from the dead house in the hospital yard to the Potter's 
 Field. About ten o'clock that same day, Marion Monck, 
 agreeably to the promise he had made to the Colonel the day 
 previous went from 46 Centre street to see him. He passed 
 through the gate, and went directly to the ward in the North 
 building. The door was not fast, but stood partly open. The 
 nurse was not there. Marion gazed around the room, expect- 
 ing to see the Colonel but he was not there. He turned 
 towards a patient who occupied a bed near the door : " I came 
 here with. a friend yesterday. He was placed upon that bed. 
 Can you tell me where he has gone to ?" 
 
 The man looked at Marion a moment : " Yes, I remember 
 you. They have removed your friend Colonel you called 
 him to the dead house." 
 
 " Dead house ! Why, what should he be removed there 
 for ?" asked Marion, horrified. 
 
 " What for ? Why, because he is dead," replied the man. 
 
 " Dead. Colonel Mac Neil dead. Impossible. Why, I left 
 him here yesterday. Dead!" Marion exclaimed, and seemed 
 to be paralyzed at the information. Another patient joined 
 him, who seemed to be a little more human. He related all 
 that had occurred, and that the Colonel had died soon after
 
 332 VIGOR. 
 
 daylight. Marion cried like a child. The nurlfe came in, and 
 Marion heard what he had to say. He then went to the office 
 and obtained permission to go to the dead house and see the 
 body. The dead house man opened the door. There was DO 
 mistake now. There lay Colonel Mac Neil, cold, stiff and 
 insensible to all affairs of earth. Marion was too shocked to 
 opod his mouth. He hurried out of the building out of tho 
 grounds, and never halted until he reached No. 46 Centre 
 street. Mr. Charles was reading the newspaper. M:\rion 
 hastily told the story, namely, that Colonel Mac Neil was dead. 
 Mr. Charles said he expected as much. Harry, the proprietor, 
 at once took an interest in the matter, and advised Marion to 
 go to No. 27 Harrison street and communicate the awful intel- 
 ligence to Miss Jane. He went over at once. He found that 
 lady just sitting down to dinner with her children. He asked 
 to see her alone. Half reluctantly she came out into the hall. 
 He told her what had happened. One shriek rang out, and 
 he fell senseless on the floor. But thare was no time for delay. 
 " You are Marion Monck, I am certain. Go and make arrange- 
 ments that his body shall be brought here. Poor William, he 
 shall have no burial from a public hospital." The parties in 
 house were spoken to, and they advised Miss MePhcrson to 
 pursue that course. The children of the Colonel were very 
 much affected. When the mother told them what had hap- 
 pened, they sobbed as if their little hearts would break. They 
 did love that poor father who loved them so truly. 
 
 Marion left them to weep at their great loss, and went to an 
 undertaker and gave orders to him to take a shell and convey 
 the body of the Colonel to Harrison street, and then to take 
 measures for a handsome coffin and a respectable private burial. 
 He accompanied the undertaker to the hospital. Permission 
 to remove the body was at once obtained, and the unconscious 
 Colonel was vvith-those who loved him that same evening of 
 the day he died. The notice of the death of Colonel M;ic 
 Neil appeared in the papers next morning, and the funeral was 
 announced to take place that afternoon.
 
 VIGOR. 333 
 
 CHAPTER LY. 
 
 The House of John Grasper, in Broadway The Wedding Count Falsf chin- 
 ski is Married to the Rich Irene Grayer A Staitling Contrast The 
 Brilliant Marriage of vne Lover, and the Mtlancholy Funeral of the Other. 
 
 IN that brown granite building up Broadway, the residence 
 of John Grasper, Esq., there was a grand gathering of all the 
 elite of New York city one night late in the month of Septem- 
 ber. The Count Falsechinski had that day led to the altar* 
 Irene, the handsome daughter of the rich old banker. She was 
 now a Countess. The bride and the bridegroom were both 
 present at this party given by the parents of the bride to cele- 
 brate the nuptials. Music, the rarest and best that could be 
 procured, added liveliness to the scene. What a contrast to 
 the scene that same night in the humble dwelling-house in 
 Harrison street ! Could the fair bride, whose brow was un- 
 dimmed by even a passing sorrow cloud, have realized that her 
 admirer her lover, and the one she loved in other days the 
 gay and fashionable Colonel Mac Neil, had died that morning 
 in a public ward in the hospital, manacled, uncared for, and 
 unknown, and that at that moment, when her father's mansion 
 was illuminated with light and with beauty, and crowds were 
 offering incense at her shrine, he, the poor 'lover, was lying 
 dead in a small room, and by his lifeless body knelt a woman 
 and his two children ? What would hav been the bride's 
 sensations ? We will not stop to inquire. Such was the fact, 
 however, and it was known to the Count that Colonel Mac Neil 
 was dead, for he had met Marion Monck, who informed him of 
 it as an excuse why he should be absent from the wedding 
 party, to which the Count had given him a cordial invitation. 
 To the credit of the Count, we will say that he not only bade 
 Marion God speed in his work of kindness in assisting the 
 widow and the fatherless, but he insisted that he should receive 
 from him, the Count, a sufficient sum of money to liquidate all 
 expenses connected with the funeral of Colonel Mac Neil. 
 
 Old Mr. Prime, the banker and the friend of the Count, was 
 at the wedding party, and as merry as every old gentleman
 
 334 VIGOR. 
 
 ought to be. He considered this wedding as partly got up by 
 his individual action. He had satisfied Mr. Grasper, and Mr. 
 Grasper had paid into the banking house of Prim3, Ward & 
 King the dower agreed upon, namely, one hundred and fifty 
 thousand dollars. The settlements had been made to the en- 
 tire satisfaction of all parties. 
 
 Among the guests was the Russian Ambassador, who had 
 undertaken to arrange the Count's affairs at the Court of St. 
 Petersburg. He had succeeded, and his presence was a full 
 indorsement of the Count's claim to his title, had any one 
 chosen to dispute or to doubt the matter. Mr and Mrs. Wil- 
 son were invited, and were present. So were Colonel Benson, 
 his son and Isabella Benson, his son's wife, and her father, 
 Pitt Granville. The latter was an unhappy, miserable man. 
 He had made a grand mistake in the Count. He had always 
 supposed he was a nobody an adventurer. He had had him 
 as a clerk, and had treated him as a clerk, and now to find that 
 this ci devant clerk was a real count a nobleman, with a 
 princely income and a large cash capital, and about to carry off 
 a bride with a hundred and fifty thousand dollars more, was too 
 bad. He might have had the Count for his own daughter, if 
 he had awoke a little sooner, and then, as he contrasted the 
 elegant, well-dressed, accomplished Count, passing from one to 
 another of the guests, an object of universal admiration, and 
 winning smiles from the most beautiful by his wit and bril- 
 liant conversation, and then turned his eyes to his own son-in- 
 law, who sat in one corner, looking sheepish and stupid, no one 
 appearing to be aware that such a person was in existence, he 
 felt mortified and vexed at his own past folly and stupidity. 
 
 All the friends and connexions of the Graspers were present 
 in full force. The bride radiated among them, dressed in 
 spotless white and sparkling with jewels. She was proud of 
 her husband, and well she might be, for the Count could shine 
 any where, and he appeared devoted to his wife. 
 
 It had been arranged that the bridal pair should start the 
 next morning on an excursion, which was expected to occupy 
 some weeks. 
 
 The Count approached Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, who were 
 quietly enjoying the gay scene. He shook hands with them 
 cordially, and they congratulated him upon his brilliant mar- 
 riage. The Count replied with deep fervor to Mrs. Wilson, 
 " Ah, dear madam ; I can never forget you. That first niyht, 
 when I was so poor, and when Marion, God bless him, carried 
 me to his room. Oh, you have brought me good luck. It
 
 VIGOR. 335 
 
 started me anew, and you, Mr. Wilson, how kind you ever were 
 to me, I shall never forget." 
 
 Mrs. Wilson replied, " Poor Marion. I am told that he is 
 not doing very well, Don't forget him, Count, for if you do 
 owe any one for your success, it was Marion." 
 
 " May my head perish when I forget it.- No, Mrs. Wilson, 
 I have a place on my hands for the good of Marion. He shall 
 be in business before I leave this land for my own country, 
 and with plenty of means. You have heard of that dreadful 
 event this morning, Wilson ?" he inquired, in a low voice. 
 Both husband and wife started, and asked to what he alluded. 
 
 " Don't mention it here to-night, but Colonel Mac Neil died 
 of delirium tremens in one of the wards of the hospital this 
 morning about daybreak. Marion Monck has removed the 
 dead body to residence of Miss McPherson and Mac's children. 
 Is it not shocking ? I must leave you now. Do not forget 
 me," and with these words the Count passed on to greet other 
 guests. 
 
 Wilson gazed into the face of his wife. Neither could speak 
 for some moments. Both knew the history of Colonel Mac 
 Neil. Both knew that he was once a favored lover of her who 
 was now the Countess Falsechinski. At last Mr. Wilson 
 spoke. 
 
 " Darling, I am sick of stopping here. Can't we contrive to 
 go ? Poor Mac Neil ; what a sad fate. I shall go to his fu- 
 neral, wife. I wish I could have done more. What a blow it 
 would be to the gay bride, if the truth could reach her to-night, 
 eh?" 
 
 " I hope it may not, Richard. She could not have helped 
 the matter and only think of that poor woman and her two 
 children. Well well as people sow, so must they reap. 
 What a contrast between the melancholy death of one lover 
 and the gay bridal of another, and yet the one who has died a 
 horrid 'death, I first met the courted and caressed by all the 
 wealth and fashion of the city. The other, who is now sur- 
 rouded by wealth, admiring friends, a title, a rich bride, came 
 to my house in the dead of winter, and without food or scarcely 
 any clothes. But for the kindness of Marion Monck might 
 have perished in the streets that night. Does it not make you 
 shudder to think of such changes in life, husband ?" asked the 
 wife. 
 
 " Thank God, and you, my darling Bessy, I am too comfort- 
 able to dread them. We must stay until supper is over. I 
 will go and tell Mr. Granville about Mac Neil's death."
 
 336 VIGOR. 
 
 He left his wife to do as He stated. He was absent but a 
 moment, and when he returned he observed, " I have done a 
 very foolish thing. I never saw a man so horrified as Gran- 
 ville appears to be. I am sorry I told him any thing about the 
 matter." 
 
 Mrs. Isabella Benson was at this wedding party, and her 
 beauty attracted a great deal of admiration. Many solicited 
 an introduction to her, but her conversational powers were nof 
 sufficient to retain by her side those that her pretty features 
 attracted thither. 
 
 The supper was a superb affair, and no pains or expense 
 were spared to make it excel all suppers that ever came off be- 
 fore in a private bouse. Old Mr. Prime declared that he had 
 never been at such a supper, and his indorsement was always a 
 good one for a note or a supper. 
 
 It \\as at a very late hour when the party broke up. All the 
 guests were pleased, and went to their homes envying both 
 bride and bridegroom. Such is life. 
 
 The next morning all the gay guests at that wedding read 
 the notice of Colonel Mac Neil's death, and that his funeral 
 would take place that afternoon from 27 Harrison street. 
 
 When the appointed hour arrived, there was a large crowd 
 gathered. It hardly seemed possible that the Colonel had so 
 many friends, or even acquaintances. Mr. Granville was there. 
 So was Colonel Benson and Mr. Wilson and many others. Tlio 
 body was to be conveyed to Greenwood Cemetery. The widow 
 and the children were in a carriage by themselves, where they 
 followed the corpse until it was placed beneath the sod. Then 
 Marion Monck got into the carriage, and returned with the 
 three weepers. As the little party crossed the ferry, Miss 
 McPherson spoke. " Mr. Monck, you have been a true friend 
 to us in our need, and God will bless you for it. Out of all 
 the Colonel's friends, you alone seem to have been a true one. 
 I want you to do one thing more. Get all his things from tho 
 place that he frequented, and bring them to me. I will give 
 you his own authority for their removal." She then told Ma- 
 rion about the last day he had spent with his little family. 
 " He had a presentiment that he was to die, and it came true." 
 
 The day following that of the funeral, Marion caused the 
 bureau and other effects of the late Colonel to be removed to 
 the residence of his widow, as he called her, and by which title 
 she was ever after recognized by those who valued Mac Neil's 
 memory. 
 
 Soon after the Colonel's death, the widow wrote to her father
 
 TIGOR. 837 
 
 in Canada. He came to New York. Mrs. Mac Neil appointed 
 a trusting agent to manage her property in the city, and as 
 soon as those matters were arranged, she and her two children 
 returned to Canada with their relative. 
 
 CHAPTER LYI. 
 
 Waller GranvtlU and Clara Norris I'Tieir Marriage The Hotel de Paris, 
 and Totn Grdnville (Ju'ious Speech of Clara, Norris to Henry &>}inson 
 The latter' s Marriage with JKo.ie Barker at Mrs. Woodruff's residrnre 
 Mar on Alonctc His Poem, "The, Outcast"- -Tom Grunvdlts deyradi- 
 tion, and Rfl-ctions at Clara's Wedding with his Nephew. 
 
 SOME weeks had passed after the arrival in the city of young 
 Walter Granville before he made himself known to his uncle 
 Tom. The time had been devoted to Miss Norri.s, who had 
 continued to reside at Mrs. Woodruff's, and where she had a 
 full opportunity to exert her extraordinary powers of fascina- 
 tion upon the young sailor. Never hud she appeared so young 
 and so lovely. She accompanied him to every place of public - 
 amusement, rode out with him, walked with him, delicately 
 furnished him with a stream of money, and bestowed upon him 
 presents of value and of utility. She had a purpose in all this. 
 She made up her mind to succeed, and success seemed almost 
 within her grasp. She determined to injure the elder Gran- 
 ville, and she saw no surer method than by plunging his only 
 son into a vortex from which there was no escape. 
 
 She had proposed to Walter that he should marry her. She 
 explained to him that she was comparatively independent 
 satisfied him that he had gained her affections, and that her 
 whole soul was his. He certainly was leading a pleasant life. 
 He had no idea but that his father had closed his heart and his 
 doors upon him forever. Clara had behaved nobly to him, as 
 he thought, for she had not only made him comfortable, but she 
 had advanced Henry Rob.inson a considerable sum, to enable 
 him to support the expense of Rose and himself at a second- 
 rate hotel. Yet Walter hesitated. He had not made up his 
 mind fully in the matter until the morning of his interview 
 with his uncle Tom. The night previous he and Clara bad 
 conversed together upon the subject of marriage. He had 
 asked means to give a helping hand to his relative, and she 
 had agreed to it at once. At the same time she told Walter 
 that they were both doing very wrong in living together in the
 
 338 VIGOR. 
 
 manner they were doing without being married, and that much 
 as she loved him, it should not continue another day. 
 
 " It will break iny heart, Walter, to part with you, but it 
 must be done. You have one advantage over me, Walter. 
 When we are married, if you do not continue to love me, or 
 get tired, you can run away and go to sea again." 
 
 The hint was not lost upon Walter, and that morning, when 
 he went out to find Thomas Granville, he said, " Clara, I will 
 marry you as soon as you please, but let it all be done quietly." 
 
 " Then suppose it be this evening, in presence of only one 
 or two witnesses. You promise to bring up your uncle, and I 
 will go out and invite your friend Robinson," said Clara. 
 
 " The clergyman who will you get to perform that cere- 
 mony ?" asked Walter. 
 
 "Leave all that to me, dear Walter, and don't worry your- 
 self about the matter. It shall all be regular, and with no 
 noise," replied Clara. 
 
 With this understanding the parties separated. Walter 
 went in search of his uncle Tom, and Clara Norris to make 
 her arrangements. 
 
 Walter found his relative in the destitute state we have de- 
 scribed. He left him well provided for, and it did Walter's 
 heart good, for with all his faults he loved his uncle Tom, and 
 sympathized with his misfortune. After leaving Mr. Thomas 
 Granville in the manner we have described, he returned to 
 Bond street. There he found his friend Henry Robinson and 
 the lovely little Rose. He was still more gratified when he 
 found that the two friends were invited to stay and dine. 
 
 " So, Walter, you are going to marry Miss Norris," ex- 
 claimed Henry Robinson. 
 
 " Yes that is my intention. Have you any thing to say 
 against it ?" replied Walter. 
 
 " Not a word, my dear boy. I am not so certain but that I 
 shall follow your example one of these days. I shall if I ever 
 see my way clear to support my little Rose but hang it, man, 
 I am afraid that had it not been for your intended, Rose and 
 me would have had to part company before this. Money was 
 getting very scarce when Miss Clara came to our relief," re- 
 marked Robinson. 
 
 The opinion of his friend and companion for years, had its 
 weight with Walter Granville, and confirmed him in his inten- 
 tions. Rose timidly asked if his father, meaning the elder 
 Granville, was pleased with the proposed match. Walter gave
 
 VIGOR. 330 
 
 her a stern look, and then perceiving that she did not notice 
 it, added, 
 
 " My pretty Rose, my father troubles his head very little 
 about my affairs, and I presume does not care whom I marry, 
 lie must have heard that I am in the city, but not a word of 
 kindness or a message of any kind have I received from him 
 or any other of my family. They may go to the old Harry for 
 nil that I care. But come, dinner is ready, and we ought to 
 Le thankful that we can get a good dinner. We have not al- 
 ways been so lucky, have we, Harry ?" 
 
 The dinner was a choice affair, and the hostess, Mrs. Wood- 
 ruff, graced the head of the table and did the honors. 
 
 " My beautiful landlady," exclaimed Walter, " you are the 
 prettiest of the three ladies now at this table. You actually 
 look younger than any of them, and if my hand was not already 
 disposed of, I would certainly offer a share of my hard for- 
 tunes to you." 
 
 " Thank you, sir. I am exceedingly flattered, but Miss 
 Norris has taken the matter in band, and I am too late. I 
 must say, however, that if I envied any lady it would be Clara. 
 1 think you are one of a thousand, and she is an extremely for- 
 tunate young lady." 
 
 " Thank you, madam, for both of us," replied Clara. 
 
 Dinner was over, and evening approached, when Miss Nor- 
 ris went to her room to commence dressing for the important 
 ceremony, which it was arranged should come off in the front 
 parlor Rose accompanied Clara, and Harry joined Walter, 
 who left Bond street to walk as far as the Hotel de Paris, 
 where he had agreed to meet Thomas Grranville. They found 
 Tom deeply engrossed in a game of dominoes with old James 
 Genimel, the Broadway watchmaker, who owned the building 
 occupied as the Hotel de Paris. 
 
 " Excuse me one moment," exclaimed Tom, when he saw 
 Walter, " I have only got twelve to go to beat this gentleman, 
 and then I am at your service." 
 
 Walter took a seat at one of the small marble-top tables, and 
 motioning Henry to a seat opposite, he ordered two cups of 
 coffee. The garcon brought the cups, and Walter lit a cigar. 
 
 " Harry, did you notice that gentleman that I spoke to ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " I did. Pray who is he ?" asked Henry. 
 
 " He is mine uncle Tom, that you have so often heard me 
 chat about, during our watches at sea in the good old whale 
 ship," replied Walter.
 
 340 VIGOR. 
 
 "The deuce be is ! Well, I like his looks very much. 
 Will he be at your wedding ?" asked Robinson. 
 
 " Yes. But I don't exactly kno\v how ha will take it. He 
 must know Clara. But I will find out presently," said Walter. 
 
 At this moment they were joined by Thomas Granvillo. He 
 rubbed his hands, and exclaimed with delight, " Aha! I am 
 conqueror. I have beat old Mr. Gemmel, and he is considered 
 the crack player in this house." 
 
 " Sit down, sir. One would think you had won a second 
 battle of Waterloo, or some other equally important affair. 
 Allow me to introduce to you my friend Henry Robinson, 1 ' 
 said Walter. 
 
 " I am most happy to meet Mr. Robinson, or any other 
 friend of yours, my excellent Smith. Gents, will you join me 
 iu a drink ?" inquired Tom. 
 
 It was quite evident to Walter that his worthy uncle had 
 already drank quite sufficient, and he suggested in place of a 
 drink, that he should join them in a cup of coffee. 
 
 " Very .well I think I will do as you suggest. I have been 
 drinking considerable wine to-day," said Tom. 
 
 " I should judge so. The coffee will sober you, and I want 
 you to be perfectly cool to-night, for I am to be married this 
 evening, and you are to be at the wedding,'' said Walter. 
 
 " The devil I am ! And- is that what all these new clothes 
 are for hem I beg your pardon, sir." And Tom addressed 
 Robinson. He had forgot himself. 
 
 " Never mind, Mr. Granville. You will be welcome to my 
 wedding in any dress. And now I perceive that you have 
 been getting a new rig out of compliment to me, I presume. 
 Really, I am under obligations to you. Come, suppose, we 
 pay our shot, and then leave what say you, gentlemen ?" asked 
 Walter. 
 
 All agreed, and soon after the trio left the Flotel de Paris, 
 and proceeded up Broadway to Bond street. When the party 
 reached the house of Mrs. Woodruff, Tom remarked that his 
 brother's old partner, Mr. Nordheim, used to reside next door. 
 
 " t am well aware of that," quietly observed Walter. 
 " Come in, gentlemen," he continued ; and then led the way 
 into the front parlor. No one was there. "Excuse me, Mr. 
 Granville. Come, Harry," said Walter Granville, and with 
 his companion he passed up to the room occupied by Clara. 
 
 " May I come in with my friend Harry ?" demanded Walter. 
 
 " Yes, come in, we are almost dressed but we don't mind 
 you. Look at Rose, Harry. How do you like her ?"
 
 VIGOR. 341 
 
 Harry did look. The beautiful girl-was dressed in a robe 
 of white satin, and her dark hair, parted upon her forehead, 
 and divided to the back of her head, fell in two distinct masses 
 down her back, and the end of each was tied with a white rib- 
 bon. Her lover flung his arms about her, and said, 
 
 " Thank you, dear Miss Norris. Rose was always lovely, 
 but I have never seen her look so superb as she does to-day. 
 What do we not owe you ?" 
 
 " Harry Robinson, let me tell you one thing, and God knows 
 it is true. The talk of men, when it concerns women, is as 
 light and evanescent as a summer cloud. Under certain in- 
 fluences men agree to do any and every thing for a woman a 
 young and pretty woman. They will marry do this, or do 
 that, or the other. In an hour a week a month, all this is 
 changed. They will see the Magdalen they have made de- 
 spised, trampled upon, stoned even and that same deceiving 
 man will cast the additional stone that crushes the poor out- 
 cast. She who has believed these promises dies a slow death 
 from poisonous disease in the almshouse, and finds an unknown 
 grave in the Potter's Field. Young man, you have a proud, 
 rich father. He would see you wed with wealth and respecta- 
 bility, with a girl who has read all sorts of vile trash who 
 has never known sorrow, who has drank wine daily at her 
 father's table, and nursedlier luscious imagination with a thou- 
 sand corrupting thoughts until her soul was polluted. But she 
 is virtuous ! Nay, the very girl your father would wish you 
 to marry, from the rich, the fashionable, and the pious circles 
 of high society, ninety-nine chances in one hundred, is a pros- 
 titute at heart, and when once your wife, as the fountain is 
 already poisoned, so the rivulet will be, and she will become a 
 prostitute in body the first chance she gets. Now look at that 
 vision of loveliness, gazing with her big black eyes at me while 
 I speak. She was made a prostitute in body while her mind 
 was as pure from stain as the white satin that now adorns her 
 person. Her body was polluted, but her soul never entered 
 into the act. She loved you with her mind the first time she 
 saw you. She loved you with her soul. You are her god. 
 V'ith you she leaves the den of infamy as gladly as the wild 
 bird leaves the wiry cage where it was confined Take her 
 now to the altar, and let her become your wife, and she, that 
 little one, so beautiful, would cling to you till death, true as 
 steel, and as impervious to vice or vicious influences as the 
 flint stone. She would never be unfaithful never untrue. 
 She would guard your honor as her life, as the very jewel of
 
 342 VIGOR. 
 
 her existence ; for her virtue lies in that particle of Deity 
 her soul. That has never been polluted or soiled. The world 
 judges differently, but I speak what I know. Marry Rose, 
 dear Harry, and if you live on bread and water, sweep streets 
 for a living, while she acts as washerwoman for your mutual 
 livelihood, as long as you are true to each other, you will know 
 a happiness that wealth cannot give." 
 
 While Clara Norris was giving vent to these expressions, 
 Walter Granville was looking at her in amazement. While she 
 was speaking a pin falling would have been heard. 
 
 He then added, " Oara, have you spoken for yourself?" 
 
 " God knows I have spoken for Rose, for she has a pure, 
 loving, innocent heart, that a few weeks' residence in a brothel 
 has not soiled or tarnished. As for me, I have been a world- 
 ling deeply perhaps damnably. The Great Judge only 
 knows. I do not know my own heart, Walter. Did you bring 
 up Thomas Granville with you ?" she asked. 
 
 " I did. Left him down stairs. Clara," said Walter. 
 
 " Go down at once and apologize. Tell him you will be back 
 presently," said Clara. 
 
 Walter descended to the parlor, but returned almost in- 
 stantly, and addressing Clara, said, " Uncle Torn is fast asleep 
 upon one of Mrs. Woodruff's exquiske sofas." 
 
 " Well, let him sleep there until we are ready to descend 
 and now what was I saying 1 Oh, about the vice of the body 
 and the vice of the mind, so far as us poor women are con- 
 cerned. Never mind. I don't think, Walter, that my heart 
 is corrupted, and I am sure that of Rose is not. To-night I 
 become your wife, and wild and wayward as has been my ca- 
 reer, dear Walter, I will be true to you while I live. So help 
 me, Heaven. Henry, you do not need to be told what Rose 
 will do. You can read all that is passing in her heart in her 
 sweet, heavenly face. Walter, will you forgive me for one act 
 I have done to-day ?" asked Miss Norris. 
 
 " Tell me what it is, Clara. If it is not the unpardonable 
 sin, I think I can forgive you," replied Walter. 
 
 " I have invited Marion Monck, once a favorite clerk of your 
 father's once a favored suitor of your sister Isabella, to be 
 present to-night," said Miss Norris. 
 
 ' " You are a strange creature, Clara. Why invite him ? 
 What have I, or you, for that matter in common, with him ? 
 What is he to us now ?" haughtily demanded Walter. 
 
 " More than ever he was in what the world calls his pros- 
 perous days. He was once kind to me, but he is now writing
 
 VIGOR. 343 
 
 for a living depending upon his brains for his bread and wa- 
 ter. Mr. Bennett, of the Herald, has taken him up, and 
 don't laugh he writes poetry. He has not spoken to me for 
 some time, but last St. Valentine's Day I received from him 
 this precious valentine." Here Clara went to a small desk and 
 took an envelope from it, and the enclosure she handed to Wal- 
 ter. '' Read that." 
 
 AValter drew near the lamp. He looked at the hand-writing 
 a moment. " How well I remember that writing," he ex- 
 claimed. " It is indeed written by Marion, but no signature is 
 attached. How did you recognize it, Olara ?" 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! I have seen his hand-writing a hundred 
 times in the days of Mr. Nordheim. I knew it at once, but 
 read it." Walter read the poetry. It was as follows : 
 
 THE OUTCAST. 
 
 I look upon that face, bnt while 
 
 It seems so passing fair, 
 .1 ask me it' that sunny smile 
 
 Is wont to linger there ; 
 I ask me if that bosom's heave 
 
 Hides not a heart that's doomed to grieve 
 And wither in despair; 
 I ask if joy or peace can be 
 With oue'so desolate as thee. 
 
 I knew thee not, thou fallen flower, 
 
 When virtue marked thy growth. 
 I knew thee not in 'thy bright hour 
 
 Of purity and truth. 
 I knew thee not till treacherous waya 
 
 Had dimmed the sunshine of thy daya, 
 The freshness of thy youth ; 
 And then I knew thee in thy shame 
 Without a friend without a name. 
 
 An outcast from thy father's home, 
 
 A blighted, joyless thing ; 
 Thy journey onward to the tomb, 
 
 A rayless wandering. 
 Uncheered by hope thy bosom heavea 
 
 Yet like the rose's scattered leaves, 
 Some sweets yet round thee cling ; 
 And dimfy round thy ruin shine 
 Like ivy on th shattered pine. 
 
 There's beauty still upon thy brow, 
 
 And kindness' in thy heart, 
 A smile is with thee eVen now, 
 
 All hopeless as thou art. 
 But sorrow's wave too soon will chase 
 
 The light of beauty from thy face,
 
 344 VIGOR. 
 
 And thou wilt then depart; 
 As bends the lily to the blast 
 Unknown, unloved, thou'll sink at last 
 
 God cheer thee on that awful day. 
 
 For none will watch thy bed, 
 None'sigh to see thee pass away, 
 
 Or grieve for thee when dead ; 
 None seek the silent, lonely spot, 
 
 Where, cold, forsaken and forgot, 
 Reclines thy lovely head : 
 The turf, alas, will soon be green. 
 And few will know that thou hast been. 
 
 " Yes, dear Walter, I want that young man who could ad- 
 dress me such lines, to see me married yes, married. I 
 should die were he not here to-night, for that poetry has 
 weighed like lead upon my heart. But as your wife, the spell 
 will he removed," exclaimed the excited Miss Norris. 
 
 " I am very glad, then, Clara, that you have invited 
 him. But come, you are all dressed. Holloa, what is the 
 matter with you, my beautiful Rose ?" 
 
 Eose was weeping as though her heart would hreak. The 
 few lines, as read by Walter in his deep-toned voice, touched 
 a chord that had vibrated through her hosom. She made no 
 reply to Walter, but fell upon her knees before Henry Robin- 
 son. 
 
 " Oh, dear Henry, save me from such a fate as that of the 
 poor outcast," she exclaimed. 
 
 " It shall be, Rose it shall be. My mind is made up. Dear 
 Miss Norris, may I ask one favor ? After the clergyman has 
 made you and Walter one, let him do the same for us two make 
 Rose my wife. Come what will, I will be her legal protector ; 
 her husband." 
 
 " God bless you, Harry," was all the reply that Rose could 
 make. 
 
 " I will see to it," said the majestic Clara. 
 
 A slight tap at the door interrupted the conversation. 
 
 " Who is there ?" asked Walter. 
 
 " Me Mrs. Woodruff. There are some guests in the parlor. 
 Are you not most ready ?" she asked 1 . 
 
 The reply was in the affirmative, and in a moment the door 
 was opened and the party followed Mrs. Woodruff down stairs. 
 As they entered the parlor a singular sight was presented 
 Thomas Granville lay asleep, and was snoring upon the sofa. 
 There was a clergyman in his robes, evidently of the Episco-
 
 VIGOR. 345 
 
 pal order, for he wore a white surplice, and held in his hand 
 the Book of Common Prayer of the Church of England. 
 
 In one corner of the room was Marion Monck. It was the 
 lady-like duty of Miss Norris to place these people at their 
 ease. She walked to Marion. 
 
 " Old friend, have you forgotten one known to you many 
 years ago ? This is Walter Granvillc. 
 
 Simple as the words were, they electrified Marion. Walter 
 was his old employer's son the brother of her he remembered 
 with such tender recollections. 
 
 " Walter, why when did you come ? I am glad to see you," 
 was all Marion could say, and it was enough. 
 
 Walter raid some kind words, and sat down by him. Clara 
 proceeded to the clergyman. 
 
 " Venerable sir, in a moment we will be ready for you to 
 proceed. When you have married me to Mr. Granville, will 
 you marry these two to each other ?" and she pointed to Hen- 
 ry and Rose. 
 
 The clergyman bowed, and replied, " Most certainly, if there 
 are no objections." 
 
 " None in the wide world," said Clara, and she passed to 
 the sofa where Thomas Granville was lying. She placed her 
 hand heavily upon him, and in a deep voice pronounced the 
 single word " TOM !" 
 
 In a moment he aroused himself, rubbed his eyes, looked up 
 in her face, and replied, 
 
 " Holloa! what's out now ? Clara, is that you ? Where did 
 you come from 1" 
 
 She made no reply. Then he sat up and looked about the 
 room, recognizing Marion, and also the man he knew as Smith. 
 He repeated, " Marion and Smith here 1 That is all right." 
 
 "ToM '."Clara repeated again. 
 
 " Well, what is it ?" asked Tom. 
 
 " You are invited here to be present at a wedding. Are 
 you sufficiently awake to be a witness ?" 
 
 " Certainly. Of course. Go ahead. I am all right," said 
 Tom. 
 
 Clara turned about and walked to the clergyman. 
 
 " We are ready now, sir. Please proceed with the solemn 
 ceremony." 
 
 She was joined by Walter, and the clergyman opened his 
 book and performed the ceremony of marriage according to the 
 Ritual. When it was Gnished, and the reverend man of God 
 pronounced them man and wife, Walter kissed Clara affection- 
 
 16*
 
 346 ' VIGOR. 
 
 ately, and then Henry Robinson and Rose were made " one 
 flesh." Clara then approached the clergyman and placed a bill 
 in his hand. 
 
 " Allow me," said she, " to settle the fees for myself and 
 for the other couple." 
 
 The clergyman, perhaps without meaning to do so, glanced 
 at the denomination of the bill. 
 
 " Really, madam," he suddenly exclaimed, " there is some 
 mistake ; this note is for one hundred dollars." 
 
 " So I supposed. Keep it. If it is unusual, use it to make 
 others as happy as I trust you have made several in the room 
 this evening," quietly observed Mrs. Walter Granville. 
 
 " Where can [ find pen and paper ?" asked the clergyman. 
 
 " That lady," pointing to Mrs. Woodruff, " will show you," 
 and she whispered to the clergyman, " May I ask that you will 
 give them certificates for each marriage, if not too much trou- 
 ble ? You have the names." 
 
 " Certainly," said the minister, and he left the room. 
 
 Marion Monck had seen so many astonishing things in an 
 experience of some years, that he had long ago arrived at the 
 conclusion that he would never more be astonished at any 
 thing which might occur in New York ; still be was surprised, 
 to say the least of it, at the marriage of the somewhat celebra- 
 ted Miss Norris to the runaway son of his old employer. He 
 offered his congratulations to the lady now Mrs. Granville and 
 to her husband. The former requested to speak with Marion 
 for a moment alone. 
 
 When she found herself thus with him, she observed, " Ma- 
 rion, we have known each- other a long time, through some 
 strange vicissitudes, eh ? Is it not a strange world ?" 
 
 " Rather so," replied Marion in a very laconic manner. 
 
 " Will you take back your poetry about ' the OUTCAST ?' I 
 am now a married woman married to a man whose father is 
 an eminent merchant, eh ?" 
 
 " Exactly, dear lady ; I understand perfectly well your sar- 
 casm, but it don't apply ; I don't take it. I wrote ' the Out- 
 cast ' when it did apply. You were at old Mother Miller's, 
 you know. Pon't be angry ; I will write another piece which 
 you will like better wheu I have leisure, and call it ' The 
 Wife,' eh ?" 
 
 " Now stop all foolishness. Here is five dollars : take it," 
 said Clara Granville. 
 
 " What is out now 1 Do you mean to insult me ?" 
 
 " No, Marion, far from it ; but I want this notice copied,
 
 VIGOR. 347 
 
 and to appear in all the daily papers to-morrow morning : will 
 you attend to it ? I know you will. Say nothing. I must 
 speak to Mr. Thomas Granville," said Mrs. Granville. 
 
 Marion read the note. It was as follows : 
 
 " Married On Tuesday evening, the 29th instant, by the 
 Rev. Samuel Fuller, Walter Granville, Esq., son of W. Pitt 
 Granville, of this city, to Miss (Clara Norris, formerly of New 
 Jersey." 
 
 It is needless to say that this notice appeared in all the 
 journals the next day. 
 
 Clara approached Tom Granville. She seated herself by 
 his side. This gentleman had listened to all that was going 
 on. He was perfectly conscious that people had been married 
 he knew that Clara Norris had married his friend Smith, 
 and he had made up his mind that Smith was " sold," accord- 
 ing to his ideas of how the world ought to wag on ; but he had 
 caught no other name, or if he had, it had not fastened itself 
 upon his mind. But he was soon to be enlightened. Clara 
 had him alone, and she commenced. 
 
 " Tom Granville, do you remember how you treated me in 
 France ? Your heartlessness, your villany selling me to 
 make an income for you to spend upon other women ? Hear 
 me, and don't say a word. You know this is true. Grant that 
 I in many things did wrong. Does that justify what you have 
 done ?" 
 
 " Oh Clara, don't let us bring up old sores. Let bycgones 
 be byegones. You have married Smith. Nice man, I dare 
 say. .Respectable man, evidently. I'm mum. I'll not say a 
 word. Do you understand ?" 
 
 " Tom, do you recollect how your brother humbled me when 
 I was kept by Nordheim ? Do you know the. exertions that he 
 used to deprive me of what I received from Mr. Nordheim ? 
 He called me harlot, prostitute, vile wretch, and a few other 
 names that a woman never forgives nor forgets," said Clara. 
 
 " Well, what of it ? It don't amount to anything now," re- 
 plied Tom. 
 
 " Your wife, your niece how did they treat me ?" asked 
 the now excited Clara. 
 
 " Oh, what matters all such stuff what is the use of bring- 
 ing it up now ? This is your wedding night, old gal. You 
 have married Smith, let's all be jolly, ehl" said Tom, who 
 was still under the influence of liquor although he had had a 
 good nap upon the sofa.
 
 348 VIGOR. 
 
 " Tom, now listen to me k I want to give you an introduc- 
 tion to my husband. Walter, come here," said Clara. 
 
 Walter approached the sofa. 
 
 " Mr. Thomas Granville, allow me to introduce to you my 
 husband, Mr. Walter Granville. Jf I am not mistaken, he is 
 also your nephew ;" and when she had said this, she gave one 
 loud scream of hysterical laughter, and then sat down. Tom 
 could not join in it ; he was sobered, and asked, 
 
 " Walter, is this so ?" 
 
 " It is, uncle Tom. Did you not know me ?" 
 
 " And are you the husband of this lady ?" pointing to Clara, 
 who was watching this conversation. 
 
 " I believe that there is no mistake about that," replied 
 the other. 
 
 " Then may God have mercy upon the Granville family ; we 
 are a doomed race," said Toin solemnly. 
 
 " Why, uncle Tom, cheer up ; don't you get down-hearted. 
 You at least know how I am situated a cast-off. I found a 
 true friend in Miss Clara when I had no other friends," ob- 
 served Walter.* 
 
 " I am a broken-hearted man, nephew crushed. I have no 
 hope except to get a bed at night, an occasional meal of vic- 
 tuals, and drink and clothes. You have helped me along on 
 my rough bye path, and I thank you for it. I do not know 
 how you came by the means to do so. But what matters it, 
 Clara ? God bless you. You are my niece now. What you 
 are driving at is beyond my ken. Never mind ; play out the 
 game your own way. You hold ace, king, queen and jack of 
 the Granville family in your own hands, and your suit is 
 trumps. It is the winning hand. Heaven send queen to Pitt 
 Granville. ' When will he hear the news ?" continued Tom. 
 
 Clara and Walter had listened attentively to the abrupt lan- 
 guage of uncle Tom. Both knew that in other days, when his 
 proud spirit was dominant, such a marriage would have been 
 repudiated on the instant if it had cost him his life blood. But 
 they knew that stern poverty will humble the haughtiest heart. 
 He who lacks food for months, he who stoops to almost beg 
 from friends a shilling for a night's lodging ; he who is ragged, 
 shirtless, and wants the ordinary comforts of even a wash-bowl 
 and towel, soon comes down to that low level, that were hia 
 wife, sister, or even mother, placed in affluenc.e at the price 
 of her virtue, would receive a portion of the wages of vice, 
 and be thankful for it. Pride of birth or anything else van-
 
 VIGOR. 349 
 
 ishes into thin air, when placed in contact with the silent deg- 
 radation of poverty. Marion had left for down town. 
 
 Mrs. Woodruff had left for her apartments, and Henry, with 
 the happy Mrs. Robinson, had gone to the nuptial couch. The 
 clergyman had also taken his leave, and man and wife, with 
 that worldly uncle, were alone. At last he bade them good 
 night. Walter did not rise. Clara followed him out of the 
 room. As they stood in the hall, she'said : 
 
 "Tom Granville, I know what you would say. Thi? will be 
 a fearful thing for Pitt. He will see it in the morning papers. 
 Will he die r 
 
 " No. It will make him mad stark, raving mad." 
 
 " Tom, you may need money. Take this roll take it kindly. 
 I don't know how much there is two or three hundred. You 
 are a man of the world use it wisely, Tom. Good night." 
 
 Thomas Granville, late United States Consul in the second 
 city of France, was in the street. The moon was shining 
 brightly over his head, and he had more money in his pocket 
 than had been there for many long months. As he passed 
 down Broadway, he soliloquized, 
 
 " Last night I had no bread I had no money. I had barely 
 a few dirty coppers to keep me from sleeping in the streets 
 no clothes no decent boots no hat no cravat- no nothing. 
 To-night I have as much as I need. A hotel a room to go to, 
 and money in my pocket. How did I get it all 1 Least said 
 is soonest mended. From this day forth I will never be with- 
 out money. Gold is all. 
 
 ' That yellow slave 
 
 Will knit and break religions ; bless the accursed ; 
 Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves, 
 And give them title, knee and approbation 
 With senators on the bench.' 
 
 "Whatever else I lose, I will never be again without gold." 
 
 Thomas Granville reached his hotel. A silver shilling am- 
 ply rewarded the porter for opening the door, and he went to 
 his room.
 
 350 VIGOR. 
 
 CHAPTER LYII. 
 
 Perils of Youth in ACM; York Tammany Hall. Committee Marion Monck's 
 first Article in the Herald The Spanish Boarding House, and the two 
 Peruvian Girls. 
 
 THERE are few situations of more intense peril in human 
 life than to be in a large city, needing money for the ordinary 
 necessaries of existence, or without any regular source of in- 
 come. The man who works from six in the morning until dark 
 at night, even if he only gets a dollar a day, is comparatively 
 independent, and is not exposed to temptation. His wages are 
 small, but he makes his expenses bear a fair proportion to his 
 income. If he earns but six dollars a week, his board costs 
 him but two his clothes do not cost him fifty cents a week, 
 and his other expenses, for pipes and tobacco, and his glass of 
 beer or gin, may make a dollar more per week, and he actually 
 can lay up two and a half dollars per week. Women, wine and 
 cards are beyond his wishes. His income would go but a lit- 
 tle way for the indulgence of either, and he never gives them 
 even a passing thought. If he gets out of employ as a day 
 laborer, it is not a source of much anxiety, fur as he has no 
 pride to get over, but is content to take up with whatever 
 turns up, he soon finds something to do, and he is at his ease 
 once more. 
 
 This is not the case with the young man who has been a clerk 
 in a store. He considers a clerkship an honorable employ. 
 ment. He engages in it, hoping one day to become an em- 
 ployer, a merchant on his own hook. From a hundred dollars 
 a year his salary is increased to a thousand, but extravagant 
 habits have increased with it. His board alone costs him two 
 hundred to four hundred dollars a year. His clothes are two 
 hundred more. He visits bad houses two or three times a 
 week, adding two hundred dollars for this tax ; and he smokes 
 cigars, drinks occasionally, goes to the theatre and other places 
 of amusement and these last inconsiderable expenses count 
 up easily two dollars a day ; the sum per year is about seven 
 hundred dollars. Add it to the eight hundred dollars already 
 enumerated, and our clerk is living at the rate of fifteen hun-
 
 VIGOR. 351 
 
 dred dollars, when he only gets one thousand. This discre- 
 pancy of five hundred dollars must come out of somebody. As 
 a general rule, a portion falls on the place where he boards 
 his tailor, his bootmaker, and a few others who have trusted 
 him, share the deficiency among them. It is bad enough when 
 the salary continues steady; but when a young man who has 
 been living at this rate, gets out of a situation, and out of 
 money, in a place like New York, the chances are fearfully 
 against him. Temptations surround him on all sides. If he 
 stays in New York, his fall is certaio his degradation sure. 
 He begs and borrows to the full extent of his tether. These 
 sources used up, he has nothing left but to steal. If he is an 
 American, he will not turn to manual labor, and he will not 
 take menial service. Who ever heard of an American servant, 
 and how far will one travel in New York before he finds an 
 American day laborer ? 
 
 Marion Monck was out of a situation, yet he had hopes ahead. 
 Hopes, however, although very flattering stock in one's imagi- 
 nation, will not pay a board bill, obtain a decent suit of clothes, 
 a pair of boots or a hat. The young fellow had a proud spirit. 
 He would not beg if he could help it he would not have writ- 
 ten home to his parents for aid. He would have cut his right 1 
 hand off first. The Count occasionally let him have money, 
 and had made Marion promise that he would come to him (the 
 Count,) before he borrowed money, or before he took any new 
 situation. Consequently Marion was resting upon his oars. 
 The Count Falsechinski had married, and was spending several 
 weeks out. of town with his .bride. Marion did not know where 
 he was. 
 
 He had boarded in the house in Nassau street for many 
 months. As we have said before, his room was the rear one on 
 the third floor, that of the editor was in the front. Sometimes 
 they talked together, but Marion was very shy of any over- 
 tures. He had no confidence in his own ability to write, and 
 even if he had succeeded as a writer, his prejudices were alto- 
 gether in favor of success as a merchant he considered it 
 more reputable than success as an editor. In after life his 
 views underwent a great change. He learned to do full justice 
 to the power and the respectability of the pen. 
 
 Soon after the marriage of the Count Falsechinski with Miss 
 Grasper, Marion Monck settled his bill with the landlady in 
 Nassau street, and removed to a Spanish boarding-house in 
 Fulton street near Cliff. It was kept by a Spaniard named 
 Alfayez, who agreed to give Marion a good room and a seat at
 
 352 VIGOR, 
 
 the table for a moderate sum per week. Marion was a good 
 Spanish scholar, but he wanted practice in speaking it. This 
 was a good opportunity, and he availed himself of it. We have 
 somewhere mentioned that Marion Monck had a great inkling 
 for politics. His sympathies were with the Democratic party, 
 owing probably to the fact that when a clerk with Mr. Gran- 
 ville, who was a Whig, he became a Democrat from the mere 
 love of opposition. At that time there were two Committees 
 that regulated Tammany Hall ; one was called the " Old Men's 
 General Committee," and, the other the " Young Men's General 
 Democratic Committee." These Committees were elected 
 once a year. Marion had always been elected to the latter 
 Committee from the ward in which he lived, and as he was 
 ready with the pen, extremely willing to work, and had no 
 game to play, or spoils to seek after, he was generally selected 
 as one of the secretaries* of the " Young Men's Committee," 
 and the work fell upon him, as it always does upon the free 
 horse, his colleague being contented to sign anything that Ma- 
 rion had drawn up or engrossed. 
 
 On one occasion the Committee had a very exciting debate. 
 A procession was to be got up in reference to a political vie- 
 'tory in Maine or some other State. In this victorious proces- 
 sion several very distinguished military men had volunteered 
 to act as Marshals, but they refused to do so unless all the 
 other marshals, were military men. 
 
 " Very well," said the chairman of the Committee. " That 
 matter can be easily arranged. There are to be three mar- 
 shals from each ward make 'em all military men ;" and as 
 each name of a marshal was proposed and accepted, the chair- 
 man observed, " Make ' Bill Gage ' a general." 
 
 " Enoch Camp." " Make him a major.'' 
 
 "Nick Dimoud, first ward." " Make Nick a general." 
 
 " Bill Dennis," said the Secretary. 
 
 " Make Bill a major," said the chairman. 
 
 " Joe Sweet," called out the Secretary. 
 
 " Make Joe Sweet a Colonel," dictated the chairman. 
 
 " Thomas McSpeddou," said the Secretary. 
 
 " Put General to Tom's name." 
 
 * William Shaler, sixth ward." 
 
 " Make Bill Shaler a Colonel he has been in the wars ;" 
 and in this ludicrous way the list, which was to be published, 
 was made out, amidst the screams and shouts of the Tam- 
 many Hall Committee. When the list was fairly completed, 
 word was sent to the real Generals, Morris, Ward, Stryker.
 
 VIGOR. 353 
 
 Arcularius, and others, that the Committee had placed none 
 but military men on the list of marshals from the different 
 wards. 
 
 It was late when the Committee adjourned. It was also 
 Saturday evening. Marion passed down Nassau street, and 
 into the Herald publication office. Somewhat unusual it would 
 be now, but at that hour in those days Mr. Bennett was still 
 in the office. The two commenced a conversation, and in the 
 course of it Marion Monck related the ludicrous debate that 
 had occurred that evening in the committee room in Tammany 
 Hall. It appeared very droll to the editor, and irresistibly 
 comic. He actually held his sides while he roared with laugh- 
 ter. Marion did not laugh at all. 
 
 " I am going home good night," said the editor. 
 
 Marion returned his " Good night," and passed to his Span- 
 ish boarding-house. 
 
 On his way down, it occurred to him that his month was up, 
 and that he owed the Spaniard twenty dollars that very day. 
 
 " I am dead broke ! Suppose he was to ask me for it ? I 
 have not got five dollars in the world, and the Count is off 
 somewhere. When he will be back, Heaven only knows !" 
 
 These were the thoughts of Marion Mouck as he reached the 
 door in Fulton street. He rang the bell. Alfayez, the pro- 
 prietor, opened it himself. It was an unusual thing for him to 
 do, and Marion expected to be dunned for his bill. 
 
 He was not doomed to be disappointed. " You no pay me 
 my money to-day 1" exclaimed the Spaniard in English. " I 
 want him. You got him now, eh ?" 
 
 lf Sorry to say I have not, Senor Alfayez, but I suppose a 
 few days hence will answer all purposes," asked Marion 
 Monck. 
 
 " No, Senor, he no do two tree days bym-bye. I want de 
 money. Ahora, what you call now ? No do two three days. 
 Hab got him ?" demanded the Spaniard, who had admitted 
 Marion into the hotel, but seemed disposed to bar his progress 
 to his room. 
 
 " Really, Mr. Alfayez, I have not got the money to-night. 
 You are in no danger of losing the amount, although I am com- 
 paratively a stranger to you. My trunks are worth more than ten 
 times your bill. However, to satisfy you, to-morrow you shall 
 have the twenty dollars," said Marion. 
 
 " Bueno. Manana, Senor. Buenos noches," and after 
 this parting salutation, which means " Good. To-morrow 
 morning. Good night," Marion went up to his room. Where
 
 354 VIGOR. 
 
 to get the money on Sunday morning was not so clear, and it 
 was a long time before he could get asleep. The next morn- 
 ing Marion Monck rose very early. At the breakfast table he 
 met two sisters, very sweet girls, who spoke Spanish to him 
 upon every occasion. They were lovely creatures from the 
 city of Lima, in Peru, and their father, a grey bearded old 
 Peruvian, was their protector. He, of course, was stopping in 
 the house. These pretty senoritas were aged thirteen and fif- 
 teen, extremely anxious to learn English. Marion Monck had 
 already made a bargain with them that he should teach them 
 English while they kept him in practice with his Spanish. 
 Very probably Marion felt anxiety to end the financial war be- 
 tween the Spanish proprietor Alfayez and himself as much, on 
 account of these two extremely beautiful pupils as for any other 
 reason. At any rate, no sooner had he finished his breakfast 
 and smoked a cigar, than he hurried up to the office of the 
 New York Herald. He inquired for Mr. Bennett. 
 
 " In his private office," was the reply, and thither went Ma- 
 rion Monck. 
 
 " Good morning," said the editor, and then continued mak- 
 ing some memorandum in a small book. One of the most 
 prominent traits in the character of Mr. Bennett, and which is 
 only known to those who know him as well as he knows him- 
 self, is his perfect editorial closeness. He does not let his 
 left hand know what his right hand writes. He will appear to 
 be communicative and frank, and yet what he says is the very 
 frankness of hypocrisy. His hearer gains nothing, obtains 
 nothing from him. He will listen unmoved to what he ^new 
 before, but the teller will not discover any sign of impatience 
 or any indication that Mr. Bennett is already aware of what he 
 is telling him. 
 
 No man in the city of New York is better posted in refer- 
 ence to the affairs of the city, the prominent men in it, or in its 
 various wards than Mr. Bennett. Consequently, when Marion 
 Monck related to him the scene at Tammany Hall, which to a 
 man not familiar with the prominent military and political men 
 of the day, it would have been dry and uninteresting, to Mr. 
 Bennett, who knew the name and character of every man, it 
 was uncontrollably comic and ludicrous. 
 
 When he had finished his work, he turned to Marion Monck. 
 
 " Well, Marion, what have you got new this morning ?" 
 
 " Nothing, sir. I have called here this morning for a very 
 particular purpose," said Marion.
 
 VIGOR. 355 
 
 " Indeed. It is raining in torrents, is it not ? What can I 
 do for you ?" Mr Bennett asked kindly. 
 
 Marion hesitated a moment. He had never, since he had 
 known Mr. Bennett, asked him for a loan of money in any 
 shape, but this morning he felt that he had no other resource, 
 and so he repliejj, " Yes, sir, it is indeed raining very hard, 
 but the fact is, I am in a tight place. You know I am down 
 at that Spanish boarding-house. My month was up yesterday, 
 and unless I get twenty dollars this morning I do believe the 
 old Spaniard will turn me out of his house to-day. I could 
 get the money if it was any other day but Sunday. As it is, 
 if you will lend me the twenty to-day, I will return it to you 
 to-morrow," and Marion felt relieved, that the application was 
 made, whatever might be its fate. 
 
 " No ; I never lend money," was the abrupt reply. 
 
 " Oh, well, never mind. There has been no harm done by 
 my asking you. I hated to do it, but I must have money, and 
 stand up to the rack, fodder or no fodder. As it is ' no fodder,' 
 I must try somewhere else," said Marion Monck. 
 
 " There is no harm in your applying to me," observed Mr. 
 Bennett, who wrote some thing on a small piece of paper. 
 Marion rose to go. Mr. Bennett held up the paper and ob- 
 served, " Wait a moment. Here is an order for the exact sum 
 you wish to borrow. I will not lend it to you. You must 
 earn it." 
 
 "Earn it! Earn twenty dollars. How in the world am I 
 to do that ?" demanded Marion. 
 
 " Last night you told me a very interesting story of some 
 doings in Tammany Hall in reference to a Democratic victori- 
 ous procession that is soon to come off. You made me almost 
 go into convulsions with laughter by the funny way in which 
 you told it," continued the editor. 
 
 " Well," said Marion. 
 
 " Now, here is my order, for which you can get twenty dol- 
 lars when you go down stairs. There, on that table, is fools- 
 cap paper, and pen, and ink. Write out what you told me, 
 and the order is yours," coolly remarked the editor. 
 
 " It will take me all day to do it, and I don't think it will be 
 fit to read then/'^said Marion 
 
 " Never mind that. Do as I say, and do it as near as possi- 
 ble to what you told me, and 1 shall be satisfied," said the 
 editor. 
 
 Marion took a seat and went to work. In less than two 
 hours he had filled ten sides of foolscap paper. He handed it
 
 356 VIGOR. 
 
 to Mr. Bennett, who did not even pay him the compliment of 
 reading it, but laid it aside, at the same time handing Marion 
 the- order for twenty. He took his leave, and down stairs he 
 received the money. 
 
 " I suppose he made me write out all that stuff for the pur- 
 pose of affording him an excuse to lend me twenty," thought 
 Marion. 
 
 The next morning, however, when he opened the Herald, he 
 found his article. "It made two and a half columns on the out- 
 side of the Herald. It was extremely ludicrous. It was a 
 point. One of Mr. Bennett's frequent great points, and when 
 his sagacity as an editor was never at fault, either in the sub- 
 ject or manner of handling it, no matter how incapable the pen 
 he made use of. There were tens of thousands of military 
 men in New York. There were an equal number of Demo- 
 crats. Such an article, naming the principal leaders in both 
 the political and military ranks, and making them figure in a 
 ludicrous manner, would soon find its way through the streets. 
 At ten o'clock that day as high as a dollar was paid for a 
 Herald. There were none to be had at any price. It was one 
 of those millions of original articles that in a great many years 
 had made the Herald talked about. Mr. Bennett is the most 
 suggestive mind in the United State.?. He could keep a hun- 
 dred papers filled with original matter if he had the mechani- 
 cal minds and hands to work under him in a ifficient force. 
 
 The appearance of this article was a matter of astonishment 
 to Marion Monck. It was the first newspaper article he ever 
 wrote. He did not believe that he could write one. Mr. 
 Bennett had told him that he could. He had made him do it. 
 The article was written. It appeared in the Herald. Marion 
 read it and could not doubt that he had written it. " It wa* 
 an accident," he said to himself. " I succeeded by Mr. Ben- 
 nett telling rne how to do it. I doubt whether I could do it 
 again." With the twenty dollars he hurried from the Herald 
 office out into the rain and down to the Spanish boarding- 
 house. He called for Alfayez, handed him the twenty, the 
 Spaniard gave him a receipt, and a friendship commenced 
 which lasted many years. After paying his bill, Marion passed 
 up stairs to the parlor occupied by the family of the Peruvian. 
 He found the two senoritas pouting because.he had not arrived 
 sooner to give them their lesson. The father was in his own 
 room, and the old duenna was in another part of the house. 
 The charming pupils, with their long dark locks floating loose 
 over their white and almost naked shoulders and bosoms, sat
 
 VIGOR. 357 
 
 upon the sofa with Marion between them. For some time the 
 stuJies went on very smoothly. Marion had procured a book 
 with Spanish and English conversation upon each page. From 
 this be taught his pupils and they taught him to pronounce 
 Spanish. Marion finally passed an arm around each of their 
 waists. The youngest, Inez, sprang up and locked the door, 
 saying, "What would the senora say, if she came in and caught 
 us ?" and then resumed her seat. Marion tried the lips of the 
 sister who had fastened the door, and she returned kiss for 
 kiss with an ardor that surprised him. Then the elder sister, 
 Isabel, got up and poutingly observed that Marion did not care, 
 for her, or he would kiss her as well as Inez. This invitation 
 was not lot, and the book was soon laid aside, while Marion 
 gave way to the loving kisses and caresses of the two beautiful 
 sisters. They were innocent, and so was he. What a strange 
 contrast between American and Spanish girls. Two Americans 
 mifht be alone with a young man, and their conduct would be 
 the same-as if their pare.its were present they are accustomed 
 to depend on their own self-respect they are to be trusted, 
 and their conduct would be modest and prudent, without being 
 afraid of the opinion of their parents. Not so Spanish girls. 
 They are watched. They are shown early that they cannot bo 
 trusted. They are not allowed to associate with the young of 
 the other sex. Hence, when a chance occurs like that with 
 Marion, they only regard the danger of being found out. They 
 fondled their teacher as if he had been a young kitten, and he 
 returned their innocent embraces and kisses. Then they fin- 
 ished their lessons, and he retired to his own room. 
 
 CHAPTER LVII1. 
 
 Pitt Granville reads the no'.ice of his sons marriige Seeks out his Brothtr 
 Tom at 43 Centre street Thomas Granville believti in luck Buys a Lot- 
 tery Ticket. 
 
 WHEN Pitt Granville opened his morning paper, and his 
 eye fell upon the few lines which informed him that his son 
 his only son, had married ' Clara Norris,' the paper fell from 
 his hands, and a few moments after, when one of his clerks en- 
 tered the office, he found him lying senseless upon the floor. A 
 physician was sent for at once : he bled the old gentleman, 
 and then recommended that a carriage should be sent for, and 
 that he should be conveyed to his home as speedily as ppssi-
 
 358 VIGOR. 
 
 ble, and there be kept perfectly quiet. No one present had 
 the slightest idea of the real cause of this sudden illness ; the 
 doctor pronounced it a fit of apoplexy. 
 
 When the unhappy father reached home he refused to go to 
 bed, but sent every one out of the room except his daughter. 
 He informed Isabella of what had occurred. 
 
 " Bell, my heart is broken ; I shall never hold up my head 
 more. If he had died I should have mourned for him, for he 
 was my son, although a disobedient one ; but to bring dis- 
 grace upon us all, to marry one of the most notorious courte- 
 zans in New York, the very one that ruined my poor brother 
 Tom Oh, this is dreadful, and I feel as if my senses were 
 leaving me." 
 
 Isabella was deeply affected, and endeavored to soothe her 
 father, and prevent if possible another fit, for she had been 
 told by the physician that any violent agitation would induce 
 a relapse. She sent a note to Colonel Benson, and ere an hour 
 the cool old Englishman was with them. He was more shocked 
 at what he called Walter's mad infatuation than even the fath- 
 er, whom he advised to break it up. " Get the parties di- 
 vorced, or buy the lady off with a sum of money." To all of 
 these suggestions the humbled father turned a deaf ear. " No, 
 Colonel ; as he has made his bed, let him lie on it ; I will not 
 interfere no, net to save his life ; it is too late now. He 
 must have been in New York sometime without my know- 
 ledge ; had he come to me at once had he but what am I 
 talking about? He is ruined, body and soul, and our name is 
 the laughing stock of all the good and the respectable in New 
 York. If my business was only closed up, I would sell every 
 thing and go back to England," said poor Mr. Granville. 
 
 Colonel Benson urged it upon Mr. Granville that he must 
 not take the matter too much to heart. " Bear in mind," he 
 added, " that you have another child and a grandchild a glo- 
 rious fellow too, who must take your son Walter's place. For 
 their sakes, don't give up." 
 
 " I will not. I will try not to do so. I will try and forget 
 my unworthy son. But, Colonel, where is my brother Tho- 
 mas ? I must try and find him out. He too is unworthy of a 
 thought but, poor devil, he is a fool. He does the best he 
 can, but he is half imbecile, and don't know wrong from right. 
 He must not starve. That affair of our old friend Mac Neil 
 was it not dreadful, to die all alone in the hospital ! Poor 
 Tom, I am afraid he is following in the same direction. I have 
 not heard from him for a long time. He must be seen before
 
 VIGOR. 359 
 
 it is too late. I have heard that he can be found at a place 
 No. 46 Centre street. I will go there at once. I feel much 
 better : will you go with me, Colonel ?" asked Granville. 
 
 It was in vain that Colonel Benson remonstrated, and tried 
 to persuade his friend that such a course would be worse than 
 useless. He was not to be persuaded, and when the Colonel, 
 hoping that his refusal to go would prevent Mr. Granville from 
 doing so foolish a thing, refused to accompany him, Mr. Gran- 
 ville rose and said, 
 
 " Well then, Colonel, I will go alone, and perhaps it is 
 better that you should not go." 
 
 Isabel tried to dissuade her father from going out, but his 
 mind was fully made up. Colonel Benson accompanied him 
 as far as the corner of Broadway and Chambers street, and 
 there they shook hands and parted, the haughty British Colo- 
 nel wishing his friend success in his present attempt. 
 
 When the latter reached Centre street, he commenced ex- 
 amining the numbers in order to ascertain whereabouts No. 
 46 was located. He was in a quarter of the city with which 
 he was no more acquainted than with the localities in the 
 neighborhood of the North Pole. He kept up Centre street 
 on the right hand side. At last he found the right number, 
 and entered. His striking appearance attracted Jernmy's at- 
 tention the moment he entered the door. There was indeed a 
 strong resemblance between the brothers. There were in the 
 store the usual quantity of loafers, and the visitor, after pass- 
 ing his eyes over them, took a seat. Jemmy the bar-keeper 
 had not had his eyes off the new-comer for a moment. As he 
 entered he was serving a customer, but when he had finished 
 that duty and placed the money in the drawer, he crossed to- 
 wards where the merchant had seated himself. 
 
 " Can I serve to you anything, sir ?" asked Jemmy. 
 
 The merchant laid down the paper. 
 
 " Yes, if you have any good brandy I would like some in 
 water. I want good no trash ; here is a dollar. If you have 
 no good brandy here, send out for some " 
 
 " I have some in a demijohn of the very choicest kind. It 
 was selected by Colonel Mac Neil, and kept exclusively for his 
 use : he was a judge of that article, but since his death, no 
 one has used any of it." 
 
 How long Jemmy would have gone on it is impossible to 
 say, but no sooner had the name of Colonel Mac Neil caught 
 the ear of the old gentleman than he interrupted him. 
 
 " Who did you say Colonel Mac Neil ? what did he do
 
 360 VIGOR. 
 
 here, or what do you know about him ?" asked Mr. Granville, 
 hastily. 
 
 Jemmy was now on his hobby. He informed his listener 
 that Colonel Mac Neil kept a room for fifty dollars a year ; that 
 his old bureau had stood in the rear of that very store until 
 recently, when it was removed to his widow's house. He' told 
 him how the Colonel got hurt, and of the money which the 
 Count Falsechinski had given him ; of Mr. O'Doemall, who 
 was last seen to converse with the Colonel of Marion Monck 
 -of the pledging of the pistols, and of his opening the store 
 the next morning, and of finding Mac Neil all bloody ; of his 
 being taken to the hospital by young Marion Monck, and how 
 surprised every body about the place was to hear next day that 
 the Colonel was dead. 
 
 " Not a word more ; I cannot bear it, it is too frightful. I 
 knew the Colonel well. Here, my lad. I know you were very 
 kind to poor Mac ; he was a friend of mine, and a hard fate 
 he had ! Take this and put it in your pocket. I give it to 
 you out of regard to his memory,'' and at the same time he 
 took from from his pocket a roll of money, from which he se- 
 lected a ten dollar bill. Presenting it to Jemmy, who thanked 
 him very warmly, the young man resumed attending to the 
 customers who were cursing at his absence. 
 
 Mr. Granville continued buried in deep thought. Occasion- 
 ally his eyes would glance over the casks and barrels of liquor, 
 but his thoughts were of a most melancholy character. A thou- 
 sand traits of the amiable disposition of his friend flashed 
 across his memory, and he soliloquized " Here he kept out of 
 the gay world and his former associates for years ; he too, the 
 gallant, wealthy, successful and envied favorite of fashionable 
 society, was reduced to this haunt, and to a room at a dollar 
 a week in the neighborhood. Good God! what may we not* 
 all expect ? what may not the most powerful and wealthy be 
 reduced to ! Perhaps it will be my fate : who knows ? Here 
 too is a favorite haunt of my poor brother Thomas ; well, I am 
 glad I have come here. I see things as they are and as they 
 have been. I am learning a lesson in life which I should be 
 long in learning in my own handsome mansion in State street." 
 He looked at the different persons in the place. " All of them 
 I suppose have seen better days." While he was thus re- 
 flecting, a hand was quietly placed upon his shoulder it was 
 his brother. 
 
 He could not speak. Not so, however, Tom ; he took a seat 
 and commenced,
 
 VIGOR. 361 
 
 " Well, Pitt, how goes the world with you ?" 
 
 " So-so, Tom : but you are looking better than I expected. 
 I had heard but no matter. You are looking well." 
 
 Torn replied, 
 
 " Indeed ! No thanks to you, though, brother Pitt. I should 
 have looked bad enough had I been dependent on you ; but I 
 am glad to see you heard of your son's marriage ?" asked 
 Tom. 
 
 Pitt Grranville winced as he replied, 
 
 " Yes, I have heard ^it, and it pained me much ; it is a very 
 disgraceful affair." 
 
 " Could he do any thing else ? he had no money, and I sup- 
 pose he might have starved if that girl had not taken him up. 
 It is to him I owe my present respectable appearance ; had I 
 applied to you, I presume I might have starved, eh 1" said 
 Tom. 
 
 " No, Tom, no ; I came here to-day on purpose to afford 
 you relief if you needed it." 
 
 " Needed it ? I do need it need money.'' 
 
 Tom said this, for he had become heartless, and had deter- 
 mined to adhere to his plan of getting gold whenever he could 
 r-he felt that something had shaken or softened his brother's 
 feelings, and he was now anxious to know to what extent he 
 could venture a financial demand. 
 
 " How much do you want, Tom, to make you comfortable ?" 
 asked the brother. % 
 
 " All that you can spare. I want a home, with some money 
 in my pocket besides that which I want to return to Miss Nor- 
 ris, which I borrowed of her." 
 
 Tom lied when he added this last. 
 
 " How much do you owe Miss Norris ?" asked the merchant 
 anxiously and quickly. 
 
 " What is the use of asking such a foolish question ? Let 
 me have some money, if you intend to do so, and I will then go 
 and pay her," said Tom. 
 
 The elder Grranville took out his pocket book, and handed 
 his brother two hundred and fifty dollars. 
 
 " Take that, Tom. Make it go as far as you can. Above 
 all, pay Miss Norris what you owe her. When you need more 
 you can send to me or call upon me. Find some respectable 
 boarding-house, and get settled in it," said Pitt Granville. 
 
 Thomas Granville placed the money in his pocket, and then 
 his mouth was opened. He informed his brother that he had 
 been present at the wedding of his nephew without being
 
 362 VIGOR. 
 
 aware of it, until the clergyman had made the parties man and 
 wife. Pitt Granville groaned in agony as he listened to the 
 narrative. Tom did not spare his brother from reproaches. He 
 told him that he had driven Walter from his home, and how 
 severely he had been punished for it. He then related his 
 own hardships, his want of food, of sleep, of ordinary comforts. 
 But he added, " I thank you, brother, that even now your 
 heart has relented. It has done me good to see and feel some 
 of the hardships of life, and if I live, they shall not have hap- 
 pened to me in vain. I will never be in such desperate want 
 again." The elder Granville listened, But could say nothing 
 in reply but to beg his brother to come and see him at his 
 house in State street as though nothing unpleasant had ever 
 occurred. He shook him cordially by the hand, and remon- 
 strated kindly at his not having a more respectable haunt. 
 When he had gone Tom exclaimed, " Well, I am in luck. 
 Who would have dreamed that I, a poor, devil two days since, 
 that lacked a meal of victuals, wanted a shilling to get a night's 
 lodging, charged with prigging two cents' worth of pie, should 
 now be worth let me count my fortune. My gold, my yellow 
 slave five hundred and odd dollars. Well 
 
 " ' There is a tide in the pffairs of men, 
 
 Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.' 
 
 " It is ebb with me. Maybe, whatever I do will turn out 
 lucky. What are my lucky numbers? This is 46. I came 
 here, met my nephw, got clothes, home and board. Good 46 
 is a lucky number. Then I went up to that she devil's ia 
 Bond street, No. 32. I came away with a pocket full of money. 
 Two hundred and sixty dollars in good city bills. 32 is a 
 lueky number. Now, to-day my brother Pitt wakes up, and 
 comes from a sick bed in No. 9 State street to give me two 
 hundred and fifty dolhars. No. 9 is a lucky number. 9, 32, 
 46. If I could get a ticket with those three numbers upon it, 
 wouldn't it win 1 Of course it would. I'll go and try. If I 
 can't get a ticket with those numbers upon it in the very next 
 lottery, I will go for once into the policy business, and gig 
 those numbers for five hundred dollars. ' Jemmy, give me a 
 mild drink. Make it merciful. 
 
 " ' The quality of mercy is not strained ; 
 It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven 
 Upon the place beneath : it is twice blessed ; 
 It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.' 
 
 " James, take a drink with me. It will do you good. I am 
 going to seek for money. James, when you are poor, never
 
 VIGOR. 353 
 
 try to borrow. No one will lend a poor man. Get ten dol- 
 lars, and if you want to borrow a ten, go to your friend and 
 show him that teu, and tell him you have to make up twenty 
 dollars. He will lend you ten. With the twenty dollars go to 
 a second friend, show him the twenty dollars, and repeat the 
 story, but make the amount you have to make up fifty, and 
 borrow thirty dollars. No. 2 will lend you it. With a fifty 
 you can raise up fast. Show it to your No. 3 friend. ' Char- 
 ley, I have to lend Bill Astor's nephew a hundred this morn- 
 ing. Count that pile and rfee how much I lack, and then lend 
 it to me like a good fellow.' Ah ! Jemmy, you find Charley 
 counts it, and lends you the lacking fifty with pleasure. He 
 would have seen you damned before he would have lent you 
 fifty cents, if he thought you really needed it and had not got 
 it. Jemmy, you have now a hundred. Get it all in small 
 bills, except one of fifty, and put that on top. Now go to No. 
 4 friend. Tell him you have to buy a draft to remit three 
 hundred dollars to your brother in Philadelphia, and only need 
 a hundred. ' Hand over, old fellow.' No. 4 is not going to 
 count your pile. He sees the fifty dollar bill and a pile. He 
 lends you the money with*out a word. You have now got two 
 hundred. Take an old bank book and go to some friend who has 
 plenty of money, but who is always on the borrow. Put in your 
 two hundred dollars, and then say to him that you are short to 
 make up a thousand; and if he will let you have three hundred 
 dollars he will oblige you, and you will do as much for him 
 next week. With the three hundred you* can travel. Then re- 
 turn the one hundred and ninety dollars that you have bor- 
 rowed respectively from No. 1, ten dollars ; No. 2, thirty dol- 
 lars ; No. 3, fifty dollars ; and No. 4, one hundred dollars. 
 Return all these loans, exhibiting your full stock as you do so. 
 With the three hundred dollars in hand, you can borrow three 
 times that amount from your Nos. 1 to 4 friends, with whom 
 you have established a credit. You can travel on this credit. 
 You can victimize one of them occasionally, or increase your 
 list to ten or twenty friends, of whom, at any time, you cun 
 borrow easily three hundreds, but of whom you could never 
 borrow three cents if you needed it. Jemmy, I am going to 
 try my luek. I have five hundred dollars. I will double my 
 money to-night. I am in luck. See if it is not so. Your very 
 good health." Thomas Granville finished his glass and left 
 No. 46 Centre street. 
 
 At that, time, and until within a very few years, there was a 
 young man named Clark who kept an exchange office on tho
 
 364 VIGOR. 
 
 north-west corner of Duane and Chatham streets, where Swee- 
 ney's hotel now stands. In the front office Mr. Clark did an 
 exchange business. In the rear, partly divided by a low 
 wooden partition, he kept and sold lottery tickets. There was 
 an entrance to this rear office from Duane street. Into this 
 little cubby place came Tom Granville. He asked to see some 
 tickets, and they were shown him. He examined wholes, 
 halves, quarters, eighths, in the Pokomoke Lottery, but upon 
 no lieket could he find his combination of 9, 32, and 46. He 
 was then shown the Delaware Lottery. Upon a half ticket, 
 true enough, he found 9, 32, 46. He bought the half ticket at 
 once, and paid for it five dollars, aiid left the place. For -luck, 
 he placed his half ticket among his roll of bills, and then went 
 up to the " Hotel de Paris," entered his room, and laid down 
 to take a nap. When he awoke the light from a street lamp 
 was streaming into his room. He descended to take a cup of 
 coffee, and then carelessly approached Madame Vigne, the 
 landlady. 
 
 " Madam, I have more money about me than I care to carry. 
 Will you keep it for me ?" asked Tom. 
 
 " Certainly, with pleasure. How much have you ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " About five hundred dollars, I believe," and Tom handed 
 her the roll. 
 
 " Five hundred !" repeated the landlady, who, from Tom's 
 looks, supposed his deposite might reach about twenty. She 
 counted it, and it overran about twenty dollars. 
 
 " Give me that for spending money," said Tom, and he re- 
 ceived and placed it in his pocket. 
 
 Thomas Granville had travelled. He knew that there was 
 no safer banker in the world than a careful, prudent French 
 landlady. His money he knew was as safe in Mrs. Vigne's 
 hands as in those of thu wealthiest banker of New York. Tom 
 drank his coffee. 
 
 " It is a long time since I have played. I will go and try 
 my luck to-night," and so saying he buttoned up his over- 
 coat and went out into Broadway. He soon found himself in a 
 large gambling establishment in Barclay street. Tom was in 
 luck. When he entered the room the deal was almost out. 
 Without looking at the state of the game, he put all his money 
 in a roll. He placed it upon the " queen." " My luck is in a 
 lady," was his only observation. The queen won. The amount 
 was counted and paid. Tom left it lyipg on the queen. The 
 queen won aguin. The su:n was paid.
 
 VIGOR. 3C5 
 
 " There is another ' queen ' in the box jet," said some one. 
 
 "Then I will leave it all upon my friend the queen," said 
 Tom, dryly. The queen won a third time, and Tom placed in 
 his pocket a hundred and sixty dollars, adding, " Now I will 
 get me some supper." He drank sparingly of a bottle of wine, 
 tasted a choice bit of game, and returned to the taMe, and 
 bought a hundred dollars' worth of red chips. Then he 
 played cautiously, and only one or two, until of some particu- 
 lar card, three had been dealt out, and one remained in the 
 box. Then Tom played fifty dollars on a " bet." He won un- 
 til he had two hundred and fifty dollars bet on different cards. 
 When the deal was over, he was a winner of over four hun- 
 dred and fifty dollars. He had sixty in his pocket. He re- 
 turned to the hotel, and handing another roll to Madame Vigne, 
 he said, " Here, madam, add this to my sum in your hands." 
 She took the money, but made no comment, -and Turn joined 
 old Mr. Gemmel in a game of dominoes. He was perfectly 
 self-possessed not elated and when midnight came went 
 quietly to bed. 
 
 Towards evening the next day he went to Clark's exchange 
 office. , Mr. Clark recognized him. 
 
 " You had 9, 32 and 40 half ticket in the Delaware, had 
 you not ?" he asked. 
 
 " 1 believe I have that ticket," replied Tom. 
 
 " Allow me to congratulate you, sir," said the broker. " It 
 has drawn two thousand five hundred dollars. The half is one 
 thousand two hundred and fifty dollars, gross. Discount off 
 will be one thousand and thirty-one dollars and twenty-five 
 cents. Call here to-morrow, and I will cash the prize and pay 
 you one thousand and thirty-one dollars and twenty-five cents." 
 
 Thomas Granville went around to 46 Centre street. Jemmy 
 asked him what his luck had been. " I made over a thousand, 
 Jemmy," and he told him the particulars. Tom did not 
 drink as freely as usual. The next day he received the money 
 from the ticket. He went to Madame Vigne, showed it to her, 
 and received the sum she had on deposit, amounting to over 
 a thousand dollars. Then Tom took two thousand dollars and 
 went down to the savings bank and deposited it to his own 
 credit and received a bank book.
 
 ' 
 366 VIGOR. 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 Marion Monrk and the Harpers Publishes a Book Virgil Maxcy and 
 . John C. Calhoun James Harpe.r and the Ttmp'Tunce Societies Tom 
 Flynn as a Lecturer Mr. Monck writ's him a. Lei-tare on Temperancf Its 
 deHvtry at the Tabernacle Ton a Dilinqufnl The Dinn r ordered by Mr. 
 Flynn and pjidfor by Mr. MunclcEnd<if Thomas Flynn, Comedian, ' 
 the Alnithou.se. 
 
 MARION MONCK felt quite elated with the first money he 
 earned with his pen, and it was hut the commencement of ano- 
 ther task. Marion had a friend in Maryland whose name was 
 Virgil Maxcy. This gentleman was a statesman and a scholar. 
 His melancholy fate a few years after the date of this chapter 
 is fresh in the memory of thousands. He was an invited guest 
 on board the steamship Princeton, when a cannon burst, and 
 killed Mr. Maxcy and several others. 
 
 This gentleman had prepared a work for the press. It was 
 the life of a friend the great southern statesman, Calhoun ; 
 and he wrote to Marion Monck, requesting him to publish it at 
 the establishment of Harper & Brothers, and to superintend 
 the publication. Marion accepted the trust, and forthwith 
 made an agreement with the Harpers to publish this Life at a 
 stipulated price, the copyright to belong to Marion Monck. 
 This was the wish of Mr. Maxcy, and it was his desire that the 
 profits of the publication should accrue to Marion, for the 
 trouble it would occasion him to attend to the business, read 
 the proofs, etc. 
 
 Not long after he commenced the work, he received a pack- 
 age of speeches from Mr. Calhoun himself, with a request that 
 he would also superintend the publication of a volume of 
 speeches. This Marion readily undertook ; and in the per- 
 formance of the duties, it required him to be a frequent, in 
 fact an almost daily visitor at the establishment of the Messrs. 
 Harpers. One afternoon, as he was about to leave for his 
 boarding-house, he was stopped by one of the brothers. 
 
 " Have you an engagement to-night ?" he asked 
 
 It was James Harper. 
 
 " None in particular," was the reply. " Why do you ask 
 me?"
 
 VIGOR. 367 
 
 " Because if you have not, I should like to have you spend 
 the evening with me," said James Harper. 
 
 " Nothing that 3 r o-.i could propose would give me greater 
 pleasure," replied Marion. 
 
 "Then come with me, for I am going home," said Mr. Harper. 
 
 The two started for Mr. Harper's residence, which was at no 
 great distance from the publishing building. He then resided 
 in Rose street, next door to the Quaker Church. Marion knew 
 the house well, for in the abolition riots, some years before, he 
 had seen the mob enter that identical two story brick house, 
 then occupied by Lewis Tappan, and plunder it of its furniture, 
 which they burned in the street before the door. When they 
 were insjgle the house, Mr. Harper ordered tea, remarking that 
 Mrs. Harper would not be present, as she was very ill in 
 fact, dangerously so. She died not many days after. After 
 tea was finished, Mr. Harper remarked, 
 
 " A carriage will bo here presently, to take me where I can 
 fulfil an engagement. I want you to go with me." 
 
 The carriage came'. Both entered it, and continued talking 
 until it stopped before the doors of a church in Forsyth street. 
 
 " We get out hoiv, ? ' said James Harper. " Follow me." 
 
 Marion did so, into the church, up to the pulpit. Mr. Har- 
 per opened a pew dour near the altar, and when Marion had 
 passed in and taken a seat, he shut the door and passed to the 
 pulpit, and took the principal seat. Marion then noticed that 
 the church was crowded with people, called together for some 
 sort of purpose, and that Mr. Harper was to be the chairman 
 of the meeting. 
 
 The exercises soon commenced, and then Marion discovered 
 that it was the anniversary of a Temperance Society. Prayer 
 was made, a hymn was sung, then a clergyman made a speech, 
 another hymn, another address and another hymn. Then there 
 was a pause. The chairman then arose, and with great seri- 
 ousness announced that the Rev. Doctor Tvng was expected to 
 make an address that evening, and added, ' ; But illness in his 
 family will prevent "him. This would be a great disappoint- 
 ment under ordinary circumstances, but 1 am happy to inform 
 the meeting, that I have secured the services of a young gen- 
 tlemau, who 1 am sure will favor us with a nhort address, that 
 can fill up the gap caused by the non-appearance of Dr. Tyng. 
 He is extremely clever, and has written a book that my firm 
 have published. I am not aware that he has ever joined any 
 temperance society very likely he may do so to-night. Allow 
 ine to introduce to this audience Marion Monck."
 
 368 VIGOR. 
 
 Marion had followed Mr. Harper's language, wondering what 
 he was driving at ; but when he pounced down upon him by 
 name, and pointed at the scat where he was sitting, he was 
 completely thunderstruck. Had the steeple tumbled in upon 
 the crowd, it would not have astonished him half so much. 
 He was so vexed with James Harper, that it gave him the con- 
 fidence necessary to make an address, and he did astonish that 
 crowd for half an hour. He was really eloquent upon the tem- 
 perance topic, and his address was received with great ap- 
 plause. The services were soon after over, and he again got 
 into the carriage with James Harper, intending to blow him up 
 for placing him in such a false position. It was of no use. Mr. 
 Harper laughed at him, and when they parted that night, Ma- 
 rion observed, " Have a care, Mr. Harper ; this is the last time 
 you will ever bring me in for a temperance address." 
 
 The next day, when Marion made his appearance in Cliff 
 street, the other brothers had a hearty laugh at his expense, 
 and at the " sell " so successfully made by " Brother James." 
 Marion received it all in good part, and enjoyed the joke as 
 well as any of them. 
 
 The Harpers were always interested in the Temperance re- 
 formation. They upheld the " Washingtonian Parent Society " 
 in the good old times, when that Society counted upon its 
 books the names of over ten thousand reformed drunkards, and 
 were not sparing in their aid to the Society and its various 
 branches, or to individual members. 
 
 When the excitement that this Society caused, and which 
 would crowd their weekly meetings with two and three thou- 
 sand people, had died away, it was followed and replaced by a 
 new order of things, called the Sons of Temperance. Then 
 the Daughters of Temperance. In these movements the Har 
 pers engaged earnestly, and none more so than Brother James. 
 He was active in all of them, and presided frequently at the 
 annual meetings of these societies. Then came the Rechab- 
 ites. In the latter James Harper was a principal leader. 
 
 To his credit be it said, he was extremely liberal to those 
 who were without means, but who were willing to aid in the 
 Temperance movement. Gough, Wallace, and many others 
 were indebted for means to be useful to Mr. Harper. When 
 Brother James found a person in any particular profession who 
 was likely to be useful in making converts from that profes- 
 sion, he encouraged him to become a speaker and leader in the 
 great Temperance movement. 
 
 Not long after the appearance of Marion Monck in the
 
 VIGOR. 369 
 
 Chrystie street church, he was engaged in reading some proofs 
 at his own room, when a visitor was announced. He was 
 shown up. This visitor was a stout, thick-set, full-faced indi- 
 vidual, and he brought a no.te from Mr. James Harper, intro- 
 ducing him to Marion Monek. 
 
 " Sit down, sir,'' said Marion. 
 
 " Certainly with pleasure. That note is from Mr. Harper 
 my very particular friend, James Harper. He is to assist 
 me in giving a lecture at the Tabernacle, and he told me to 
 come and see you," said the fussy individual. 
 
 " I do not see how I can aid you in the matter," replied 
 Marion. 
 
 " Indeed, but I do. I told Mrs. Flynn this morning, and 
 she is extremely well aware of the fact, that I could and should 
 deliver an extremely interesting lecture, if I had it written 
 for me. There is money to be made in it. Thousands, sir, 
 will crowd to hear Tom Flynn deliver a lecture at the Tubor- 
 nacle. The house will be a perfect jam, sir. Mr. Harper ad- 
 vances the money. I shall be a great card, sir an immense 
 card to the cause of Temperance," said Mr. Flynn. 
 
 " How long siuce you joined the movement ?" inquired 
 Marion. 
 
 " Over a week, sir nearly two. Now, sir, I am an actor. 
 I am not good at an off-hand speech or lecture, unless I have 
 it all pat beforehand. Now you write out the lecture for me 
 that's a dear good fellow. Mr. Harper said you were just the 
 chap to do it, and i know you will. I can learn it by heart in 
 a very short time after it is written that is in my line. I 
 shall reform the whole theatrical profession make em all join. 
 My lecture will be perfectly overwhelming. When will you 
 go to work ? I want it doue at once," said Flynn. 
 
 Marion took a good look at his customer. There was some- 
 thing so jolly about Torn Flynn, that no one could help admir- 
 ing him, until they had become well acquainted with the man. 
 Then admiration generally ceased. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Flynn, suppose I write this lecture. You will 
 make money by it. What am I to get for writing it ?" asked 
 Marion. 
 
 " 0, anything you please we won't stand upon trifles. 
 Money to be paid over after the lecture," said Tom Flynn. 
 
 " I would like to have it understood now how much I am to 
 get. Will twenty dollars be too much ?" 
 
 " Not half enough, my dear boy. It will be a magnificent 
 hit. I'll bring down the house. Bless your heart ! I shall 
 
 1C*
 
 370 VIGOR. 
 
 want you to write fifty a hundred lectures. Harper says I 
 must visit every city in the United States, and deliver my lec- 
 tures, and then go to Europe. Star it on Temperance all 
 through England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales. I will keep 
 you with me, my boy eh ? How do you like that ?" 
 
 Marion was in a hearty good humor with the illustrious Tom, 
 and agreed to go at once into the matter. To do this, it was 
 necessary that he should go to Tom's apartments. These, Tom 
 said, were at the Shakespeare Hotel, corner of Duane and Wil- 
 liam street. Accompanied by Marion, Tom wended his way 
 from Fulton street to the Shakespeare. This was kept at that 
 time by a man named Pierrers, now steward of the St. Nicholas 
 Hotel. Tom Flynn's apartment was on the fourth floor ; and 
 into his room, for he had but one, he ushered Marion Monck. 
 There was a lady seated there, and the new comer was intro- 
 duced with much ceremony to the celebrated and extremely 
 clever Mrs. Flynn. 
 
 She received Marion with much amiability, and listened to 
 her husband's extravagant ideas of his success in temperance 
 matters with a smile of incredulity. At that time Mrs. Flynn 
 was a woman of great beauty, and her success as an actress 
 had been long gained. Tom Flynn was doing nothing at all, 
 and the means of support were earned by Mrs. Flynn at the 
 theatre in Chatham street. 
 
 It was a long time before Marion could get Tom down to 
 common affairs, or the practical business in hand. He had no 
 more idea of a temperance lecture, than he had of Mahomet s 
 Koran ; and would relate theatrical anecdotes, and his own ex- 
 perience, that had no more connection with temperance than 
 with algebra ; and Marion, with a powerful imagination, could 
 not torture or twist any of Tom's stories into the skeleton 
 ideas for a lecture. At last he gave up in despair, and went 
 to his room. There the thought crossed him to write a lecture 
 without the slightest reference to Tom Flynn. He did so. All 
 the experience in it, and thrilling scenes, were purely imagi- 
 native none of Tom's, at least. When it was finished, Ma- 
 rion carried the lecture to Tom's quarters at the Shakespeare. 
 It was read in presence of both Mr. and Mrs. Tom Flynn. The 
 latter approved it, and flattered Marion by telling him that his 
 performance was a most creditable one. Tom undertook to 
 learn it at once. 
 
 Some days passed, and the eventful night came, when the 
 Tabernacle doors were opened to admit the celebrated Thomas 
 Flynn to deliver a temperance lecture " tickets twenty-five
 
 VIGOR. 371 
 
 cents." There teas a crowd, and notwithstanding an enormous 
 quantity of " dead-heads," the lecture was a money-making 
 affair. Tom hired some person to act as treasurer, and when 
 the lecture was finished, he grabbed the proceeds. 
 
 Marion Monck went into the gallery to hear his own original 
 lecture delivered. It certainly made a sensation, and was 
 cheered "tremendously. There was no humbug about that. 
 Marion felt convinced of one thing. The lecture had some 
 points in it that told well on an audience. Tom delivered ifc 
 well. He had learned it by heart, as though it had been a part 
 of a farce, and it appeared to the audience as though it was 
 extemporized. So far so good, 
 
 Marion tried to get a sight of Tom Flynn after the lecture 
 was delivered, but Thomas, with seventy or eighty dollars in 
 his pocket, was not to be seen. The next day the chase con- 
 tinued, and he found the lecturer about three o'clock in a 
 drinking saloon. Thomas was not exactly sober, nor was he 
 very drunk. It was a sort of maudlin medium. 
 
 " My dear boy, where have you kept yourself ? I have been 
 hunting for you all day. Ask Thomas Shortland if I have not. 
 (Tome now, let us go and have a nice, quiet, old-fashioned din- 
 ner. I have ordered one for us both, and let us go to the place 
 at once," said Tom Flynn, and he appeared extremely anxious 
 to get to the dinner. It was an enormous fib, but never" mind 
 that. The author and the actor wended their way over into a 
 33roadway restaurant. The proprietor placed them in a small 
 room by themselves. When they were fairly seated, and the 
 dinner had been ordered, Mr. Monck boned Tom about the 
 twenty dollars. 
 
 "Bless your heart, my dear boy, I- had to payout every 
 cent. You have no idea what a time I have had ! Wasn't it 
 a capital house ? How they did cheer ! My fortune is made. 
 I've struck a vein. Harper says he never saw anything like 
 it. Mr. Harper advanced the rent of the building, but I had 
 so many demands made upon me for money to-day, that I can- 
 not refund him his advance.' It is a hard case, ain't it ? But 
 those Harpers are rich he won't feel it. When will you com- 
 mence another lecture for me, Mr. Monck 1" said Tom. 
 
 Marion Monck was really indignant ; and he replied angrily, 
 
 " I'll tell you what it is, Mr. Fiynn, I don't consider this fair 
 
 treatmeirt. I wrote your lecture for you. You have made 
 
 money, and I expected to have received the twenty dollars at 
 
 ' once." 
 
 " You are perfectly right, my boy. I don't blame you not
 
 372 VIGOR. 
 
 a bit of it. I'd feel just the same, if a man had used me as 
 shabbily as I have you. I know it is outrageous. You ought 
 to have had the money. But what am I to do ? You see liow 
 I am placed. Dead broke but never mind, we will have a 
 good dinner, any how. I expect it will be a magnificent din- 
 ner. -Do you know I like good dinners ? What do you say to 
 a bottle of Champagne, eh ?" 
 
 " I am agreed," replied Marion ; " but what would your 
 temperance friends say if they were to drop in upon you 
 James Harper, for instance ?" 
 
 " 0, he be blamed. It will not do for me to break off so 
 sudden from all stimulants. It must be done by degrees," 
 replied the actor. 
 
 The wine was ordered not one bottle but two was placed 
 upon the table. A splendid dinner was served up, for Tom 
 Flynn knew how to order a good dinner. It was well cooked. 
 It was a dinner that any gentleman in the land might have been 
 proud to have partaken of. Under its genial influence Marion 
 became reconciled to the disappointment connected with the 
 twenty dollars. Tom promised faithfully that he should have 
 it in less than twenty-four hours. Still Marion refused to 
 write a second lecture until he received pay for number one, 
 and he added, " Flynn, you can make money as a temperance 
 lecturer, if you will deliver twenty lectures written by me, and 
 do as you have done this one, by each new one. Learn it by 
 heart. By the time you have committed twenty lectures to 
 heart and can deliver one on cull, you can then practice on all, 
 and really you will have matter enough to deliver an extempore 
 lecture apparently, merely throwing in a few local facts or 
 matters whenever you-deliver a lecture at a new place. You 
 will succeed, and you will be a popular lecturer, but you must 
 pay me honest, every time I write you a lecture. It was very 
 wrong in you to ' do ' Mr. Harper out of the Tabernacle rent," 
 said Marion. 
 
 " It was bad very bad a d shamo. But it can't be 
 
 helped now, and I dare say Mr. Harper won't mind it. What 
 a glorious dinner we have made, eh ? Is there any thing else 
 you will have ? Order whatever you have a fancy for wines, 
 
 cigars, coffee d the expense. One may as well be in for 
 
 a sheep as a lamb," said Tom. 
 
 Here the landlord came in, and was very polite o Marion. 
 He asked if there was any thing else he could put upon the 
 table. " Nothing more," was the joint reply. When the- 
 proprietor of the restaurant passed out from the little room
 
 VIGOR. 373 
 
 i 
 
 where the author and actor had dined, Tom Flynn followed 
 him, and, after an absence of a quarter of an hour (during 
 which time Marion was extremely anxious, for he had no mon- 
 ey, and he feared Tom had departed, leaving him in a strange 
 place to foot the bill), he returned rubbing his hands in great 
 glee, and exclaimed, " Lord love your soul, my boy. It is all 
 right. I told him who you were, and he said you could pay 
 the bill whenever it suited your convenience. It takes me, 
 don't it ?" 
 
 Marion was indignant, and at first could not comprehend 
 what Tom Flynn was driving at. "I! Satisfied with me ? 
 What the devil have I got to do with it ? It is your dinner. 
 You ordered it," said Marion. 
 
 " That ia true. But keep perfectly calm what difference 
 does it make ? I have no money not a dollar. The bill is 
 twelve dollars twenty-five cents. He wouldn't trust me twelve 
 cents. I have satisfied him that you are as good as the Bank 
 of France ; that James Harper, or all the Harpers, would be 
 responsible for fifty dinners ; and that you were short to-day 
 for a wonder, but would call back to-morrow and order a dozen 
 dinners. He is perfectly satisfied, and will let us go out without 
 the money. Don't be afraid, "continued Tom Flynn, consolingly. 
 
 " Hang your infernal impudence ! You told him the Harpers 
 
 would pay my bill ! that I was short that that 0. tho 
 
 devil ! You have played Ned with me. It is bad enough to 
 stick me for the lecture, but then to stick me for a dinner 
 that I never ordered, and tell a parcel of lies in order to induce 
 the proprietor not to have us arrested, or kick us out of doors, 
 is too bad. Tom Flynn, I will never forgive you never," 
 said Marion. 
 
 " Nonsense, my boy. We are all right. I've fixed it with 
 the proprietor. Says you can pay it any time you like. Wh;it 
 else can I do ?" asked Tom. 
 
 " Else can you do ? You had no business to come here, or 
 induce me to come here, unless you could pay for what you 
 ordered. But I have done with you mark that !" M:irion 
 indignantly left the room, and went to the proprietor and told 
 him how he had been stuck for the dinner. The landlord 
 enjoyed the joke, and the next day Marion paid the bill. 
 
 To return to Tom Flynn. He delivered his lecture several 
 times. once in Jersey City. He did well, but he could not 
 keep from drink. It eventually fetclicd him, as it has millions 
 of good fellows, and Thomas Flynu died in the Almshouse of 
 New York city.
 
 374 VIGOR. 
 
 CHAPTER LX. 
 
 R formation of Thomas Granvillt The Hotel de Paris The Domino Cl<ib 
 Bruce Trinity C hurch Antedate The. Beautiful French Girl Clotilda 
 Tom's Second Marriage His Death at the Stattn Island Small Pox 
 ILspital. 
 
 ALAS, alas ! poor Tom Granville ! gifted with genius, with 
 kindness of heart, with every thing which could make thee a 
 worthy member of society, what a melancholy fate was thine ! 
 Why was this ? He had thoroughly reformed, and changed 
 his habits from being a careless spendthrift into becoming a 
 miser, and he counted every cent he expended, and incurred 
 no outlay that he could do without. 
 
 In a former Chapter we have related the manner in which 
 he had accumulated the sum of two thousand dollars. This 
 was deposited in the Savings Bank, and the bank-book, as evi- 
 dence of its being his property, he carried about with him at 
 all times, and not a day passed that he did not take it out and 
 gaze earnestly at the items inside of it. He dressed neatly, 
 and continued to board at the ' Hotel de Paris,' in Broadway. 
 Unexceptionable in his conduct, he foreswore houses of ill- 
 fame, gambling, and excessive drinking ; he had his bottle of 
 claret daily at dinner, and drank sparingly even of that. As 
 he dined with his brother every Sunday, during the week he 
 would occasionally call in State street and invite his niece to 
 promenade with him upon the Battery. If she did not go her- 
 self, she permitted one of her children, for she had now three 
 fine boys to go with ' Uncle Torn.' Such conduct won upon 
 Pitt Granville, and he no longer hesitated about giving Toui 
 money, nor even wait to be asked, but would frequently say, 
 
 " Wei) Tom, how do you fight your men ? Have you any 
 ammunition left ?" 
 
 Tom never replied in the affirmative ; but always laughed 
 and plead poverty. 
 
 " I am about broke, but luckily my expenses are not much." 
 
 To such a hint there was but one reply 
 
 " Take this, Tom ; perhaps you can spend it," and Tom 
 would get a twenty or fifty dollar bill. After such financial
 
 VIGOR. 375 
 
 successes, Tom would go to his hotel, and make a special de- 
 posite with his landlady, keeping in his own pocket a few shil- 
 lings for his wants. 
 
 Thomas Granville visited almost every place of amusement, 
 but he was on the free list, and did so without expense. He 
 neither courted nor avoided the society of those with whom he 
 had been formerly intimate in his prosperous days, and con- 
 sequently they once more sought his society for he dressed 
 with care and taste, and his social habits made him always an 
 agreeable companion. But on such occasions he never spent 
 a fraction upon them ; if he dined or drank with them, it was 
 at their expense, not his own. 
 
 After being present at the wedding of his nephew with 
 Jliss Norris, he avoided them as he would poison. He howev- 
 er changed his deportment toward Marion Monck he not only 
 treated him kindly, but sought his society, and many an hour 
 the two passed together in playing dominoes at the ' Hotel de 
 Paris,' where Tom originated a Dominoe Club. Besides them- 
 selves, there were men of some note that belonged to that club. 
 Mr. Bruce, for many years the confidential clerk of old John 
 Jacob Astor, and after his death holding the same position 
 with his son, William B., was of this club. 
 
 Mr. Bruce was a character in his way. No man knew New 
 York for forty years better than he did he knew every house 
 and building below Houston street, and was a man who solved 
 a difficulty in an unequalled manner. Upon one very extra- 
 ordinary emergency, Mr. Bruce was called upon by a vestry- 
 man of Trinity Church. 
 
 " Bruce, the Corporation intend to open Pine street through 
 to Albany street, and it will cut through our graveyard ; what 
 can be done to prevent it ? Suggest something." 
 
 Mr. Bruce thought for a few moments, and then replied, 
 
 " Trinity is rich, and don't mind spending money. Go to 
 work at once and put up in the graveyard opposite Pine street 
 where the proposed cut will go through, a costly monument to 
 the memory of the American Patriots who fell or died at Wall- 
 about Bay. Give out that the bones of these Revolutionary 
 heroes were buried under the monument. Do that, and you 
 will have no further bother. The Corporation are not bold 
 enough to dig up the bones of Revolutionary heroes." 
 
 The vestrymen of old Trinity saw the wisdom of the hint. 
 At their next meeting the monument was decided upon, and 
 workmen commenced their labors at the head of Pine street. 
 Bruce was right there stands the monument, and no street
 
 376 VIGOR. 
 
 has yet disturbed it, or the bones of the Wallabout heroes, 
 which probably repose some four miles off. 
 
 But to return to Mr. Bruce. He was posted upon every 
 subject, and to an editor of a daily paper would have made a 
 valuable assistant as a suggestive editor. 
 
 Another member of this club was Aaron Turner, one of the 
 most remarkable men in New York. He was nicknamed " the 
 Doctor," from his unvarying attention to any of his friends who 
 became sick. One of the club was once confined to his room 
 for thirty days the " Doc" never left him. When the regular 
 physician had given the patient over to death, Doctor Turner 
 interfered, and by feeding the dying man upon rare, half-raw 
 beefsteak and old port wine, brought him around again, and he 
 is still a member of the Dominoe Club. 
 
 The Doctor had an income of two thousand dollars a year. 
 Half he spent on himself, and religiously devoted the other 
 half to the relief of suffering humanit}'. No man knows how 
 the Doctor lives, nor where he lives, and no man ever saw him 
 do any regular business and yet he is a master of all trades 
 and all sciences. He can paint a picture, or he can set up 
 thirty thousand ems of type a week with ease. He once navi- 
 gated a schooner from Cbagres to New York, and not many 
 months afterwards, when a passenger on the Erie railroad, and 
 the engineer and fireman were both killed, he mounted the en- 
 gine and ran her and the train eighteen miles to Port Jervis. 
 
 Old James Geinmel, the rich watchmaker in Broadway, was 
 a member of the club for many years. He is dead now, and 
 has gone to a better world, where dominoes are not permitted. 
 There were others of the Dominoe Club. Some are now living, 
 and some are dead, but we omit mention of the former because 
 they are cashiers in bank or Judges upon the bench, and those 
 who are dead are of no account in the ' game.' 
 
 Tom Granville was a great admirer of the game of dominoes 
 and of the society which it brought nightly around him 
 
 One evening he came into the room where his friends were 
 playing, and there he found Marion Monck ; he seated himself 
 at the centre table and called for a cup of coffee, observing, 
 
 " Gentlemen, I will take a hand in the next game with you. 
 I have seen a leper to-day." 
 
 " A leper !" was repeated by a dozen members of the club. 
 
 " Yes, gentlemen, I have seen and conversed with a genu- 
 ine leper to-day no mistake about it. I myself had doubts 
 about there being any lepers in this country, but I was mista- 
 ken. Listen to me, incredulous ones, and believe me. I was
 
 VIGOR. 377 
 
 turning up into the Bowery from Chatham Square, on the left 
 hand side as you go up, and at Pell street a little bit of a 
 street which empties into the Bowery near Chatham, I was de- 
 tained a moment. I there saw a man surrounded by a lot ot 
 curious boys ; he wa^ seated upon the ground, and his face was 
 like a leper. I started the boys off, and then cross-questioned 
 the individual. I gave him a quarter, and suggested that his 
 face was covered with leprosy. He confessed it at once 
 what do you think of it, eh ?" asked Tom triumphantly. 
 
 " Is leprosy catching ?'" inquired Mr. Gemmel. 
 
 " Pooh, pooh, no. It is nasty, but not catching, replied 
 Tom. 
 
 Marion Monck had listened attentively, and when the story 
 about the leprosy was finished, said, 
 
 " Mr. Granville, did you ever see a man with the small 
 pox?" 
 
 " No, I never did and what is more, I never wish to, for I 
 have never had it myself; but what the devil do you ask such 
 a disagreeable question for who is talking about small pox, 
 and what has that got to do with my leper that I was telling 
 you about ?" 
 
 All the company shuddered at the suggestion. Marion re- 
 plied calmly, 
 
 " I asked if you had ever seen a case of the small pox, be- 
 cause I have been informed that before it breaks out, the ap- 
 pearance of the face of the person who is infected bears very 
 much the appearance of him who in Eastern climes is affected 
 with the leprosy that is all." 
 
 " Indeed ! Come, don't let us say anything more about 
 small pox or leprosy, it makes me nervous," replied Tom. 
 So the subject was dropped, and just at that moment Madame 
 Vigne came to the table and requested Tom to accompany her 
 to the supper room. Supper was on the table, but there were 
 no guests partaking of it, and Ma-lame and Tom were engaged 
 in earnest conversation. Of the nAure of that conversation we 
 will give an idea before finishing this chapter. 
 
 Not a week had passed after Tom became a permanent oc- 
 cupant of this hotel, before a creature made hor appearance 
 behind the bar whose beauty was of a kind that startled as 
 well as captivated at first sight. Granville had risen very 
 early that morning and descended the stairs ; he went to the 
 bar to address Madame Vigne, but the face tbat beamed upoa 
 him made him excluim, " Good heavens, who are you ?" The 
 person thus addressed was a girl evidently not over fifteen
 
 378 VIGOR. 
 
 years old, and girlish in every action. Her hair was jet black, 
 and combed back from a large alabaster forehead and gathered 
 up in a close knot that was as large as one third of the girl's 
 magnificent head. Her skin was perfectly transparent, and 
 the clear white and red were only visible* She had a Grecian 
 cast of features and her smile exhibiting a pair of delicate red 
 lips and snow white teeth, was irresistible. Her form was 
 beautifully proportioned a full bosom and small waist, and her 
 movements were grace itself. She walked with that lithe and 
 limping air, which in a young and beautiful girl has a powerful 
 charm. She did not understand a word of English, but Tom 
 spoke French as well as English. 
 
 They were alone in the roum, and when Tom questioned her 
 closely, she informed him that she had come from France not 
 many months previous with her mother. She was from the 
 very province in France of which Lyons is the capital. She 
 had been frequently a visitor to that city. Tom could de- 
 scribe every building in it, and this at once was an interesting 
 topic of conversation between them. Her name was Clotilde. 
 She informed Tom Granvilie that her mother had recently died, 
 and tliat " Madame," so she called Mrs. Vigne, had agreed to 
 support her, and she, in return, was to tend the bar and wait 
 on such customers as called for coffee. Tom became really 
 eloquent to the beautiful Clotilde. He told her of the "dangers 
 of the attractions of her beauty of the insults she would re- 
 ceive, and finally asked her if he, Tom, would get Mrs. Vigne 
 to give up the idea of her tending bar, whether she would agree 
 to it. 
 
 " I have money, and I will pay Madame Vigne your board, 
 rather than you should be exposed to be gazed at and in- 
 sulted," said Tom. 
 
 The honest, heart-felt interest Tom expressed had its effect. 
 The poor girl's eyes opened to the widest extent as she re- 
 garded Tom's speaking features. She was interested, and 
 months of ordinary intercrorse could not have made Clotilde 
 so deeply grateful as that morning's conversation. Tom told 
 her where his room was, and added, " For your own sake, I 
 shall avoid conversing much with you while you are behind 
 the bar. When you receive a signal from me, make your es- 
 cape and come to my room." The girl agreed to do so. That 
 day Tom remonstrated with the Madame against employing the 
 girl in the bar-room, but it made no impression upon her mind. 
 He offered to pay her board. That Madame listened to. The 
 beautiful girl was employed as bar-tender for several days, but
 
 VIGOR. 379 
 
 her ignorance of money and the trouble her presence occasioned 
 among the boarders, who all became in love with her, made the 
 M.-idame anxious to withdraw her from such services. She 
 talked with Tom Granville about it, and he again repeated his 
 offer to pay her board. 
 
 " Very well, Mr. Granville, I agree to it on one condition. 
 You shall tell me why you do this why you care about hor 
 and what are your intentions. I have a right to ask these 
 questions, for the leetle girl is under my charge." 
 
 " Certainly you have, and as my intentions are not wrong, I 
 will tell you. You know that I have money. Very well. If 
 you will keep this girl in the house, and let her go to school, I 
 will pay all her expenses. When I find" that she likes me, I 
 will marry her. Is that enough ?" asked Tom. 
 
 It was more than enough. Madame at once summoned the 
 fair object of so much trouble, and informed her of what Tom 
 had proposed. 
 
 " I love Monsieur Granville now with all my heart and 
 soul," was the frank respose of the girl. In fact, not a day 
 had passed that she had not been to Tom's room and held a 
 conversation with him. Not a hand or a finger had Tom placed 
 upon her. Not a single caress at their interviews, and the 
 young French girl who had expected, and was prepared to re- 
 pel them, was agreeably disappointed, and these facts combined 
 with Tom's fascinating manners, had won her heart. When 
 other boarders had been civil to her, or made love to her, she 
 had repelled them with as much scorn as if some great wrong 
 had been proposed to Tom. Whon Tom had the conversation 
 with Madame, and she agreed to his proposition, Clotilde was 
 at onca taken out of the bar. She became a sort of companion 
 to the Madame, and Tom, with her sanction, went out with Clo- 
 tilde about every night, and visited some place of amusement. 
 She was- delighted. Tom told her to regard herself as his 
 wife, and to ask for money, and he proffered all she needed 
 from week to week. One night he had been with her at the 
 opera, where her extreme beauty had attracted the attention 
 Off all in the vicinity. As they were returning home, linked 
 arm in arm, Tom asked her if she would marry him. Clotilde 
 replied at once. She would do so then or at any time. Tom 
 Grauville pressed the white hand that reposed in his own, and 
 begged her to listen to his story. He then told her of his wife 
 gave the entire history, and again asked the sweet French 
 girl if she would marry him.
 
 380 VIGOR. 
 
 " I love you more than ever, because you have been so badly 
 treated by that proud woman," replied Clotilde. 
 
 Tom was delighted, but honest. He then informed Clotilde 
 that, his wife had procured the divorce, that she could marry 
 again, but that he could not, and explained the di-vorce laws to 
 the best of hie ability. He told her that were he to go and 
 marry her, he would be liable to be punished for bigamy. The 
 wild girl replied, 
 
 " Then, Monsieur Thomas, do not marry me, but I will be 
 your wife, and you shall be my husband. I love you. I am 
 yours, and death only shall separate us." 
 
 When they reached the hotel, Tom proposed that they should 
 confide in Madam, and to her Tom told his history. 
 
 " Then I will marry you,' 1 said the sympathising landlady. 
 " Do you write a paper solemnly promising that you will take 
 Clotilde, support, live with, and be a father to her children, if 
 she has any, and that your will give her all your money if you 
 die, and swear to it on the Holy Evangile, and put in it that 
 you would marry her in church but for the reasons you have 
 told me you cannot ? Clotilde shall write another paper, and 
 sign it, and promise to be your faithful, good wife. You also 
 make a will before a lawyer, that if you die you leave nil you 
 have to Clotilde, and when you have both done this, then y>u 
 shall leave these papers in my hands, and I will pronounce you 
 to be man and wife, and then you and she can do what you like 
 and amuse yourselves as you please." 
 
 All went to bed that night pleased. The next day Tom re- 
 ligiously executed the papers, and so did Clotilde. Madame 
 changed Clotilde from her old room to one that adjoined Tom's, 
 and which communicated by a door, the two rooms having been 
 occupied formerly as a parlor and a bed-room. No noise was 
 made. All was done quietly, and not a soul was the wiser of 
 these matters but Madame herself, and Tom Granvi.'Ie found 
 himself the actual possessor of one of the loveliest girls that 
 France had ever sent to these shores. Tom admired his new 
 wife. He found her as charming in mind as she was in person, 
 and she returned his love with ardor, for it was her first love, 
 and she worshipped him. A few days after their occupying 
 the same apartments, Tom playfully told her that she was a 
 perfect copy, made by Nature of the " Venus de Medicis," and 
 added, " I want to see your hair full as Nature made it." She 
 undid the fastening, flung it loose, and the dark masses, when 
 she leaned slightly backward when standing, swept the flour. 
 Tom caressed her, and while playing aud tangling it, observed,
 
 VIGOR. 3S1 
 
 " Dear Clotilde, I was not deceived. The first time I mefc 
 you, I was attached to you by your hair." 
 
 " But, Tom, it was all done up in a tight knot. How coufd 
 you tell whether it was long or short, thick or thin?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " My eyes could net deceive me in the beautiful ornament, 
 my dear Clotilde," replied Tom. 
 
 Tom became really happy. He had some thing to love, and 
 some thing to love him. His stern economy can now be ac- 
 counted for. The extra expense incurred by his beautiful com- 
 panion was nothing. The Madame merely added a few dollars to 
 his monthly board, and Clotilde Granville was her companion 
 when Tom was out, or when engaged in the dominoe-room. At 
 the table she ate her meals with Madame and her husband, and 
 Tom continued to take his at the same time. Thomas Gran- 
 ville had been thus pleasantly situated for some weeks when 
 the occurrence took place in reference to the lesson which we. 
 have narrated at the beginning of this chapter. The pleasant 
 arrangement between Thomas Granville and Clotilde had some 
 drawbacks. Tom accompanied her whenever she went out, 
 and her beauty attracted great attention. Tom's friends made 
 many inquiries as to who she was. His roue" acquaintances 
 tried hard to get an introduction. It was all in vain. 
 
 Early one morning Tom, accompanied by Clotilde, was saun- 
 tering upon the Battery. He had pointed out to his companion 
 the house occupied by his brother, when that same brother 
 stood suddenly before them. Tom was not often taken by sur- 
 prise, and without a moment's hesitation he introduced Clotilde 
 as Madame Michel. Never did a more perfect lady stand upon 
 the Battery, and Pitt Granville was sensibly aware of it He 
 was a gentleman when he chose to be so, and immediately of- 
 fered his arm. Tom explained that Madame Michel had but 
 recently arrived to look after some property of her husband, 
 who had died in Martinique, where the widow was bound ; that 
 he knew her in France, and was agreeably surprised to meet 
 her here at the Hotel de Paris, where she was stopping. Clo- 
 tilde had lenrned English from Tom to an extent that enabled 
 her to express a few words very prettily in English, and Pitt 
 Granville talked on as though she understood all he was say- 
 ing. At last he invited them over to breakfast This Tom ex- 
 plained to the lady, but prudently declined, giving a satisfac- 
 tory excuse. Before Pitt Granville parted from them, he 
 placed some money in Tom's hands, and after his departure 
 Tom -handed it to Clotilde, and then returned up Broadway to
 
 382 VIGOR. 
 
 the hotel. Clotilde could not conceal her satisfaction at having 
 met with Tom's brother. 
 
 " What shall I do with so much money as you give me ? 
 Every week it is a great deal. All you have given to Madame 
 she has given to me. I pay all our bills. I pay for nice 
 dresses for myself, and yet we have plenty left. I have more 
 than four hundred dollars in my pocket-book." 
 
 Tom found that his brother Pitt had given him a hundred ; 
 and the next day he took Clotilde to the Savings Bank, and 
 had four hundred more passed to his credit. The teller also, 
 at Tom's request, gave a new book, placing all Tom's money, 
 amounting to about twenty-four 'hundred dollars, in such a 
 manner that Clotilde Michel or himself could either of them 
 draw the money on presenting the book. He explained the 
 matter fully to Clotilde after they left the bank. She was 
 amazed. 
 
 " Do you mean to say that in case I should take that little 
 book, and go to that bank without you, that they would pay me 
 all that money twenty-four hundred dollars ?" asked Clotilde 
 
 " Every cent of it, pet, and ask you no questions. It has 
 been placed to your credit as well as to mine. So we must, 
 take good care of the book," said Tom. 
 
 The French girl was very much affected. Such generosity 
 surprised her. " Why have you done this ?" she asked. 
 
 . " To make you comfortable in case of my death. I know 
 you would never rob me of it, or abuse my confidence in your 
 integrity and virtue. Clotilde, I want~to see you placed above 
 want, in case of accident to me. You love me, and you make 
 me very happy. What is a few hundred dollars with what 
 you are to me a fond, loving friend ?" said Tom, earnestly. 
 
 The French girl wept. She fully comprehended Tom, and 
 she determined that she would make him happy as long as she 
 lived, and she did. 
 
 There are many of the then boarders at the Hotel de Paris 
 who are now living, and who will well remember a tragedy 
 that occurred in that hotel, and which originated with this fair 
 French girl. A young Frenchman came out from France, and 
 stopped at the Hotel de Paris. He had a room on the same 
 floor with Tom, and directly opposite Tom's room. He had 
 seen this young girl, as he supposed, and fell madly in love 
 with her regular French frenzy love. He offered money to 
 Clotilde to marry him. Of course, her mind was filled with 
 Tom Granville, and she rejected all overtures from the young 
 Frenchman with scorn. He knew nothing of Tom Grauville,
 
 VIGOR. 385 
 
 and he consulted Madame Vigne. She told young Paris to 
 keep quiet, and assured him that he had not a show to gain the 
 affections of her young countrywoman. 
 
 On Sunday morning the young Frenchman wrote a letter to 
 Clotilde. She at once handed it to Tom. The letter was re- 
 turned to young France. Soon after Tom descended to the 
 bar-room, and was in the act of lighting his cigar, when one of 
 the waiters rushed down stairs and said that young France had 
 blown his brains out. Tom and Madame Vigne hurried up 
 stairs to the suicide's room. He had strength enough to say 
 that he had been despised by Clotilde, and life was no longer 
 valuable. 
 
 " Poor devil, what a melancholy fool !" quietly observed 
 Tom, as he went to Clotilde's and his own room, and they 
 locked themselves in, while he explained the tragedy. A 
 coroner's jury was called ~ T and as the young man had in his 
 trunk over a thousand francs in gold pieces, he had a superb 
 funeral. The jury rendered a verdict in accordance with the 
 circumstances, without the slightest idea of the real state of 
 the case. Thomas reflected upon the matter like a philosopher, 
 but Clotilde scouted the idea of such foolishness as any mau 
 killing himself on her account. 
 
 This tragedy decided Tom to move his quarters,- and to take 
 Clotilde with him. The very day he met the " Leper " man 
 he had been looking for a part of a house in the eastern part 
 of the town. Some days passed, and meanwhile Clotilde went 
 with him to look at the house he proposed renting, when an 
 event occurred that destroyed all housekeeping projects. 
 
 Tom complained of being ill, and kept himself in his room 
 for a day or more. Marion Monck called, and Tom ordered the 
 servant to bring him up stairs to his apartment. Clotilde was 
 with him, and refused to leave the room. When Marion en- 
 tered, Tom received him cordially, and after a short conversa- 
 tion, made him take a seat closer to him. 
 
 " Marion, do you know that I have fretted myself about that 
 ' Leper ' I told you of. i am satisfied that the man has the 
 email pox." 
 
 The last words he whispered in Marion's ear. 
 
 " Good G-od ! You don't think so, really 1" 
 
 " I do and what is more, I have caught it." 
 
 " Nonsense ;" replied Marion. " But I will go and bring 
 you a doctor." 
 
 " That yoil may do ; and mind, if I have it, will you see me 
 conveyed to the Staten Island Small Pox Hospital ? I don't
 
 384 VIGOR. x 
 
 want to go to the Almshouse, and I know I must leave this 
 hotel. Not a word to a soul, remember." 
 
 Marion promised, and then left the room, and immediately 
 went for Doctor Carnochan, a physician as well known to Tom 
 as himself. The doctor came, and pronounced upon the case 
 at once. It was the small pox. And now shone out the worth 
 and the devotion of a true-hearted woman. It was decided 
 that Tom should be taken at once to Staten Island. Clotilde 
 refused to leave him. Marion went down to the Island and 
 made all the necessary arrangements, and that very afternoon 
 Tom was conveyed to the Staten Island Hospital, and Clotilde 
 was by his side as his nurse. She did not leave him for a 
 moment. 
 
 Marion returned to the city, and informed Madame Vigne of 
 the real state of the case. She was alarmed, but kept the mat- 
 ter secret. Tom's apartments were 'fumigated, and no other 
 case occurred. Mr. Monck visited the Island and made daily 
 inquiries after Tom, but did not see him. A week told the 
 story. Thomas Granville was dead. 
 
 While ho was ill, Clotilde never slept but for an instant or 
 two at a time. He was raving and did not know her; but just 
 before he died, he became perfectly sensible. He knew her. 
 
 " God bless you, my own dear Clotilde. It is hard to part 
 with you, bard to part with life, just as I have learned how to 
 live and to enjoy it ; and you, of all the world that I have known, 
 are the only one by my side in this awful crisis. Don't weep 
 don't quiver. Bear up as well as you can. When I am 
 dead, go and draw the money in the bank for your own pur- 
 poses. It is yours. If there is any objection, the will I made 
 and gave Madame Vigne is good. That is not all. When a 
 week has elapsed, go to my brother, and tell him all. Tell 
 him how you have been devoted to me to the bitter end of my 
 useless life, and he will be softened he will O, my flod ! 
 it's dark get a light Jesu " 
 
 Clotilde had lifted his head up, but with the partly uttered 
 word of our Saviour's name, he fell back upon the pillow a 
 corpse, aud his nurse the beautiful Clotilde, faithful to the 
 last, fell senseless upon his body. 
 
 She witnessed the burial of Thomas Granville, which was 
 solemn and immediate. Then she left the hospital where he 
 had died, and came up to the city, a stern, beautiful woman. 
 She was no longer the passionate, loving, laughing girl. She 
 went directly to the Hotel do Paris, and the Madame gave her 
 the old apartments, which had not been rented. She waited a
 
 VIGOR. 385 
 
 week, and then called on Pitt Granville. He was bowed down, 
 and took poor Tom's death much to heart. She narrated all 
 that had passed, and showed Tom's bank book and his will, and 
 the other papers. Mr. Granville rang the bell, and then or- 
 dered the carriage. 
 
 " I will go with you to the Savings Bank," he added ; and 
 when the carriage was ready, they entered it together, and pro- 
 ceeded to the bank. Mr. Granville was well known there. He 
 asked if there would be any difficulty in Clotilde receiving the 
 money the twenty-four hundred dollars ? 
 
 " None whatever. Whenever she wishes she can draw it 
 out," replied the official. 
 
 " Then add this to her credit in the book," said Mr. Gran- 
 ville ; and when Clotilde saw the entry in the book, she dis- 
 covered that Tom's brother had given her twenty-five hun- 
 dred dollars. He begged her to use his name, and to call upon 
 him whenever he could be of service to her ; and he conveyed 
 her to the Hotel de Paris in his own carriage, and there left 
 her. He never saw her agnin. Neither did Clotilde remain 
 but a few days longer at the Hotel de Paris. She then left, 
 and what her fate was did not transpire for many years. 
 
 Our readers may be anxious to know what that fate was. 
 
 Twelve years after the event of Tom Granville's death, a 
 beautiful woman called upon Marion Monck. She had just re- 
 turned from California, where she had amassed a large pro- 
 perty. She called herself Mrs. Granville, and she went with 
 Marion to a French banking-house and bought bills of exchange 
 on Paris to the extent of eight hundred thousand francs. She 
 was older, and more majestic than formerly. She went to 
 France, but what became of her is a mystery ; and what had 
 been the manner of her .earning so large a property in Califor- 
 nia was a still greater mystery. 
 
 Tom Granville was soon forgotten, and our narrative will now 
 -eturn to its regular course. 
 
 17
 
 386 VIGOR. 
 
 CHAPTER LXL 
 
 The Globe TJot-l and Blanfard.Tohn O'Doemall The Colonel Cloirfo^t 
 and Lady Clairfoot A Horrible Seduction and Robbery of 3000 The 
 Jjloominydale Asylum and an Inmate. 
 
 FOR many years a large hotel called the " Globe Hotel " 
 was maintained in the lower part of Broadway. .It was located 
 a few doors below Wall street, extended from Broadway to 
 New street, and the name of the proprietor was " Blancard." 
 
 At this hotel Mr. O'Doemall was sometimes a boarder, but 
 at all times a visitor. The " Globe " was the home of many 
 distinguished Englishmen, who came to this country to travel, 
 or of English officers on their way to Canada, or on their 
 return from Canada to England. 
 
 To this hotel came an English lieutenant-colonel, with his 
 wife. He was on his way to Canada, and had arrived in the 
 city in the month of January. It was bitter cold weather. 
 His name was Clairfoot. Among the first acquaintances ho 
 made was Mr. O'Doemall. The latter gentleman in the most 
 disinterested manner informed Colonel Clairfoot that the 
 weather was so cold in Canada that he stood in danger of 
 freezing to death. This had no effect, so far as the colonel 
 was concerned, but it alarmed him on account of his wife, and 
 he became anxious that she should not accompany him ; and 
 the more so as his stay in Canada was not positively determined. 
 He might be able to get through the military business with 
 which he was intrusted in a few weeks, and he might be de- 
 tained months. In the latter case, he knew that he could 
 speedily send to his wife to join him in Canada, whenever he 
 might be located for any length of time. When Colonel 
 Clairfoot had decided upon this course, he consulted with his 
 friend O'Doemall in reference to procuring handsome apart- 
 ments in a private house. He did not like the idea of leaving 
 his w^fe at a public hotel. Mr. O'Doemall soon procured the 
 desired quarters for the lady, and to them the colonel removed. 
 The house was a boarding-house in Chambers street, and the 
 colonel had taken the whole of the second floor for his lady. 
 She was a peer's daughter, and, of course, a lady in her own 
 right. She was a very fine showy Englishwoman not over 
 
 * 
 
 j
 
 VIGOR. 387 
 
 twenty-five years of age, while the colonel was a man who had 
 nearly reached fifty. In the course of the proceedings, O'Do- 
 emall had been introduced to Lady Clairfoot, and when the 
 colonel left for Canada he partly entrusted her to the care of 
 his friend O'Doemall, who on his part promised to do all and 
 every thing that could possibly conduce to the comfort of the 
 lady. The colonel started for Canada quite satisfied with hi 
 arrangements. His wife had money in her own right when he 
 married her, besides ample funds left with her by the colonel 
 for her own use. She had brought a letter of credit upon the 
 agents of the Rothschilds^ for three thousand pounds sterling. 
 A knowledge of these facts had been picked up by O'Doemall, 
 and no sooner had his friend the colonel started for the North 
 than O'Doemall went adroitly to work to carry out his plans and 
 purposes, whatever they may have been. He found out the 
 weak points of Lady Clairfoot in a very short space of time. 
 He soon managed to get up a quarrel between her ladyship 
 and the family in whose house she had rooms, while he appar- 
 ently was the pacificator and friend of the landlady. The lady 
 was induced to have her meals in her own apartments, and Mr. 
 O'Doemall continued to be a regular visitor both at the dinner 
 hour and at tea, for hardly an evening passed that he did not 
 escort her to a place of public amusement. After the play was 
 over, Lady Clairfoot who was extravagantly fond of a good 
 hearty supper, which she could not get in her boarding-house 
 would accompany O'Doemall to " Taylor's," " Thompson's,'' 
 or some other well-known restaurant. She was gay and lively, 
 perfectly innocent, *nd somewhat independent, and just the 
 person with whom a gentlemanly unprincipled rascal like 
 O'Doemall could make rapid headway. 
 
 Fortunately, for the success of Mr. O'Doemall's efforts to 
 victimize the worthy lady, her husband was detained in Canada 
 from day to day, and as he was not a great letter writer, and 
 expected to return speedily, he did not write his lady at all. 
 
 It is useless to conjecture the arts used by such a man as 
 O'Doemall to destroy a woman. He could resort to the very 
 basest in the seducer's calendar, and there is no doubt but 
 that some vile drug was used to accomplish his designs upon 
 Lady Clairfoot. She had accompanied him to the theatre, 
 then to a supper, and from thence to her home. At her home 
 he persuaded her to join him in a glass of bottled ale, of which 
 he had sent to her room a dozen bottles, with a story that he 
 had imported it himself from London. She drank one or more 
 glasses, and then remembered nothing more until she awoke
 
 388 VIGOR. 
 
 the next morning in her sleeping apartment, and Mr. O'Doera- 
 all was by her side. The lady was indignant, and the man wag 
 impudent. She threatened, and he coaxed until she became 
 aware that further efforts against him were futile. She was in 
 his power, and she submitted. He had obtained, under vari- 
 ous pretences, all the ready money she had with her, and when 
 she asked from O'Doemall sufficient to pay her board at the 
 house, he made frivolous, lying excuses about his having used 
 her money until his own remittances came. She believed him, 
 and (hen he suggested that she should draw on her letter of 
 credit. 
 
 He accompanied her to the agent of the Rothschilds, and she 
 took up a hundred pounds. Mr. O'Doemall had now the lady 
 under his control. He persuaded her to leave the house where 
 she had been placed by her husband, and he engaged rooms 
 for her in a distant part of the city. There they lived as man 
 and wife. 
 
 Mr. O'Doemall had had an understanding with the bankers 
 that the'y would cash her drafts, if brought by him, without re- 
 quiring her presence. Again she signed a draft for a hundred 
 pounds. She did not read the draft, and with perfect reckless- 
 ness she plunged into every species of dissipation. He intro- 
 duced to her a man named John James (since in the Illinois 
 State Prison for forgery), also an Englishman by some distin- 
 guished name, and then O'Doemall introduced cards, and the 
 lady lost. In giving a draft to O'Doemall for the usual amount 
 of a hundred pounds, as she supposed, she actually signed a 
 draft for one thousand pounds. This money O'Doemall placed 
 with a respectable commercial firm as his own. 
 
 Not a night passed 'that all hands were not engaged in some 
 revelry. Lady Clairfoot was hardly ever sober, and she drank 
 apparently to drown remorse. Again was she induced to draw 
 for money. Again did she sign a draft for a very large amount, 
 supposing it a small one, and this game was played success- 
 fully until all the money, excepting two hundred pounds, had 
 been drawn out by O'Doemall, and secured over two thousand 
 pounds, or about ten thousand dollars to his own credit in the 
 hands of this responsible commercial firm, with whom he had 
 never been known to have had .any dealings. 
 
 O'Doemall was hardly sober a moment, except when it was 
 necessary to accomplish his plans. His partner, John James, 
 had no knowledge of the extent of the villainy which was being 
 perpetrated upon Lady Clairfoot. Mr. James supposed that 
 O'Doemall was victimizing her to the extent of a few hundred
 
 VIGOR. 389 
 
 pounds, and he was satisfied with a small share of it. Had he 
 known the game was thousands, he would have claimed more. 
 Mr. O'Doemall was not asleep in reference to Colonel C lair- 
 foot. He felt guilty, and knew there would be a terrible reck- 
 oning when the Colonel made his appearance in New York, 
 and was informed of the facts. He kept Mr. James constantly 
 employed in seeking news of the Colonel's movements. He 
 himself changed his haunts, and wnen he had obtained and se- 
 cured two thousand pounds, and had, besides, seven hundred 
 dollars in cash, he made up his mind to abandon the lady to 
 her fate, and quit the city until the storm blew over. 
 
 One of his haunts was the Shakespeare Restaurant, then 
 kept by Windust. Here he was found by Mr. James one 
 morning quite intoxicated, and utterly incapable of taking care 
 of himself. Mr. James informed him that Colonel Clairfoot 
 had reached New York, and was at the " Globe Hotel." This 
 alarming news produced no effect upon the hearer, except to 
 make him extremely pugnacious. He was at once desirous to 
 go and fight Colonel Clairfoot, and avenge his wrongs and pro- 
 tect Lady Clairfoot. Luckily, he was too drunk to get off his 
 chair or to walk across the bar-room without assistance. 
 
 Mr. James was in a quandary. He dreaded an explosion or 
 an explanation, for he was fearful that he should be called up- 
 on to disgorge, or perhaps explain before a magistrate his share 
 in the infamous seduction and plunder of the English lady. 
 
 Under these circumstances he passed into the street, hoping 
 to find assistance. He had not proceeded more than a block 
 before he encountered Marion Monck. O'Doemall had once 
 introduced Mr. James to Marion, and now he renewed the ac- 
 quaintance. Marion received his advance somewhat coldly. 
 He knew nothing of Mr. James, except as a friend of Mr. 
 O'Doemall, and since the robbery of Colonel William Mac 
 Neil he had been unable to free his mind from an impression 
 that O'D'oemall was the robber, and indirectly the assassin of 
 the Colonel. Mr. James asked Marion if he was disposed to 
 do an act of kindness for one who had been friendly to him 
 when sick. 
 
 " Most certainly. Who is he ? and where is he ?" inquired 
 Marion. 
 
 " It is Mr. O'Doemall. He is down in Windust's cellar, ex- 
 tremely drunk. And that is not all ; he has been drinking for 
 several weeks, and unless he is placed under immediate re- 
 straint, I fear he will injure himself or some one else. He is
 
 390 VIGOR. 
 
 now so drunk he cannot stand. He has plenty of money about 
 him," observed Mr. James. 
 
 Marion was about to say " Send him to the hospital," when 
 poor Mac Neil's hasty fate crossed his mind, and he hesitated. 
 " Has he nobody to look after him ?" he asked. 
 
 " Not a soul but me," replied James. 
 
 Marion thought that Mr. James was not a very trustworthy 
 friend, and he at once offered his services. " Take me to 
 O'Doemall," he said. The two descended to the cellar where 
 O'Doemall was seated, his head lying upon the table. 
 
 " Hullo, old fellow, what is wrong with you ? Wake up, and 
 speak to your friends. Mr. O'Doemall, I say," said Marion. 
 
 Tlie drunken man roused up. " I tell you I have not got the 
 lad}-'s money," said O'Doemall, and then recognizing Marion, 
 who had spoken to him, and who was shaking him, he added, 
 " Why, Marion, is that you ] I have not seen you for ages. 
 What is out?" 
 
 " Nothing out, O'Doemall, except yourself. You are all 
 out. You are drunk. You must go with me," added Marion. 
 
 " Mr. James, will you clear out, and leave me with my fiiend 
 Monck," said O'Doemall. 
 
 Mr. James went to the extreme end of the room 
 
 " That is a most infernal rascal, Marion Monck Have a 
 care of him. I am sober quite sober. You don't believe it. 
 Very well. I have got a great deal of money with me. Count 
 that," and as Mr. O'Doemall said this he pulled out bill after 
 bill, and when one pocket was emptied he tried another, and 
 when Marion finished counting the money so placed upon the 
 table, he observed, " Why, O'Doemall, you have over six hun- 
 dred dollars with you. It is not safe to carry such a large 
 amount with you." 
 
 "1 know it. I wish you to take it, and keep it for me. Will 
 you oblige me 1 You are as safe as the Bank of England. 
 That's a good fellow. I am not sober, and I am not drunk. I 
 have not slept for many nights. I have beeu worried very 
 much," said O'Doemall. 
 
 Marion took all the money except the surplus over the six 
 hundred, which he handed to O'Doemall. " I will keep it, 
 O'Doemall, but some thing must be done for you. You are 
 very ill. The fact is., you require good nursing, or you will 
 die," said Marion. 
 
 " I am perfectly aware of it," replied O'Doemall. " Can't 
 you take me to some nice place in the country, for instance,
 
 VIGOR. 
 
 where I can be out of the way until I get well 1 You can pay 
 the shot out of my money." 
 
 Marion agreed to the proposal. He went at once to Mr. 
 James, and told him his' plans. Mr. James was delighted. 
 " Nothing could be better," he exclaimed with delight. 
 
 Marion did not see what there was to be delighted about, 
 but he told Mr. James to go and engage a carriage to go out a 
 few miles into the country. The carriage came, and O'Doemall 
 and his two friends entered it. Marion handed the driver a 
 ten dollar bill, and told him where to drive and what to do, 
 and shortly after the carriage and its contents were on their 
 way to Bloomingdale. When they reached the gates of the 
 asylum, Mr. O'Doemall was asleep. Marion got out, and went 
 up to the building. There he paid sixty dollars, or three 
 months' board for theirpatient, whose name was duly entered. 
 Marion Monck fully explained the case, and satisfied the chief 
 physician that it was all right. He then returned to. the car- 
 riage, and almost immediately it was driven inside and up the 
 main entrance. Servants came out of this country hotel to as- 
 sist the guest to his quarters. Mr. O'Doemall was woke up. 
 He gazed at Marion, then at the hotel. Memory recalled a part 
 of his previous conversation, and he exclaimed with glee, " Ah, 
 you have done as I requested. Got me a country hotel. Where 
 is it ? What's the name of the place ? Let's go in and get a 
 drink, and then I will go to bed.'' 
 
 They entered the hall. O'Doemall began to notice some 
 things. It was too late. " Good-bye," said Marion ; " I will 
 come and see you in a few days." 
 
 " I say. Stop. What does this mean ? Keep your hands 
 off me," and with a hundred oaths and protestations and re- 
 quests to be let loose, Mr. O'Doemall was sent, or rather 
 dragged to his apartments. He was a patient in the " Bloom- 
 ingdale Asylum," vulgarly called a mad-house. 
 
 Marion Monck and Mr. James returned to the city. Had 
 the former dreamed that his humane intentions were to be the 
 means of letting a villain escape from the punishment he so 
 richly merited from a wronged husband, he ttould have cut off 
 his own hands for the act. 
 
 It was so. Colonel Clairfoot made every effort to discover 
 O'Doemall. Mr. James went over to Jersey and staid three 
 months, to keep out of the way. There was no clue to O'Do- 
 emall's retreat. The husband found his wife almost a maniac. 
 He learned how deeply he had been wronged, and how largely 
 she had been robbed of honor and of money. But time was
 
 392 VIGOR. 
 
 precious. He waited a month to catch the rascal O'Docmall. 
 He was not to be found anywhere. Satisfied that he had es- 
 caped his vengeance, the Colonel and his lady returned to 
 England. What became of her was never known by any one 
 on this side of the water. He was heard of some years after, 
 for he committed suicide in the city of Dublin without any ap- 
 parent cause (so the papers stated that gave an account of the 
 melancholy transaction). 
 
 Marion Monck was, of course, ignorant of any transaction of 
 a guilty nature in which O'Doemull had been engaged. He 
 supposed he had drank to excess, and placed him where he 
 was safe. 
 
 A week elapsed before he visited him, and then he hired a 
 carriage, and taking with him the balance of the money left in 
 his hands by O'Doemall, he went out to the Bloomingdale 
 Asylum. That visit and the finale of our history of Mr. O'Do- 
 emall must be left for another chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIL 
 
 Mr. and Mn. Wilson Mr. Bennett sends Marion M'Mck to South Carolina 
 ai Correspondent of ih>. Herald Two Months with Air. Calhoun JJe- 
 parturefrom Cktrl&ston for Ntw York, and Safe Arrival with Mrs. Fer- 
 guson. 
 
 RARE and unfrequent were the visits that Marion Monck 
 paid to the comfortable residence of Mr. and Mrs. Wilson. He 
 was ever welcomed there by both husband and wife, and it 
 would be dimcult to decide why so old a friend did not visit 
 them oftener. There was one reason, however, which Mariou 
 hardly understood himself. He was not at home in the pres- 
 ence of Mrs. Wilson. He remembered the young wife of Mr. 
 Nordheim, and there was something he could not forget and 
 yet he could hardly understand what that something was. The 
 Count Falsechinski, who was a perfect man of the world, had 
 on one occasion enlightened him as to the past feelings of Mrs. 
 Nordheim, but yet he could not reconcile the opinion with the 
 fact, that the widow NordliGim had married Mr. Wilson. 
 
 It was a happy marriage. They had become parents to two 
 children, both boys, and the second one was named " Marion." 
 
 Marion Monck had called up one evening, and Mrs. Wilson 
 announced the fact to him in the presence of her husband. 
 " We have named our second darling after you, Marion, and
 
 VIGOR. 393 
 
 the young gentleman's name is Marion Monck Wilson. We are 
 not unmindful that we owe our happiness to you. Had it not 
 been through your instrumentality I had never known my pre- 
 sent lord, and I am grateful, Marion. We only wish that you 
 could point out to us some way in which we could really be 
 useful to you. We desire anxiously to see you settle down in 
 life. You have sown all your wild oats. You have a marked 
 capacity for business ; and let me beg of you, dear Marion, to 
 think seriously of what I say. You have not two truer friends 
 in this wide and wicked world, than Mr. Wilson and myself." 
 There was feeling expressed in these few words from the lips 
 of the graceful woman, which reminded Marion of old times, 
 and he was affected deeply. He replied, 
 
 " If it would give you any pleasure to see me settled, I can 
 only wish that I was in a regular business. I hope soon to be. 
 The Count Falsechinski has hinted to me an arrangement, by 
 which I shall soon have a partner, with plenty of cash capital. 
 Lam under a promise not to mention any names, or I would 
 tell you more." 
 
 " That is good news. The Count is in a situation to make 
 good any promise that he gives," said Wilson. 
 
 " Are you aware, Marion, that we are going to move into 
 the country ?" asked Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 " Indeed I was not. To what part of the country are you 
 going ?" 
 
 " To the Connecticut village where I staid during the chole- 
 ra year. We are not going to break up in town. You remem- 
 ber my aunt, Mrs. Ferguson, in Charleston of course you do ; 
 we have written her to come on and make a permanent home 
 with us. She will keep the house in the city, and we shall 
 only be absent during the hot summer months. It is better 
 for the children. Poor boys, I cannot bear to have them 
 cooped up in town, when there is fresh and pure air to be had 
 by a short journey." 
 
 When Murion made these visits he was asked all sorts of 
 questions about those persons they had mutually known, and 
 in this manner an evening passed very quickly and happily to 
 all parties. 
 
 " Come oftener, Marion," would be added by the lady in the 
 kindest manner when he was leaving, and he would make up 
 his mind that his visits to this delightful family should hence- 
 forth be more frequent. But something always turned up to 
 prevent it. He was literally very busy doing nothing. He 
 wrote occasionally, and he idled still more, but his mind was 
 
 17*
 
 394 VIGOR. 
 
 constantly employed. He would sometimes go to an old haunt 
 and remain there for hours, drinking a solitary glass, and then 
 he would dream out a thousand beautiful thoughts and fancies. 
 He thought much, and though he had no definite plan but to 
 pass away the time, and the stimulus he drank helped out his 
 ideas and thoughts, yet he never wrote them down. He thought 
 them, and they pleased him, and were stowed away for use in 
 after years. In these places he saw life. He listened to the 
 conversation of others without mixing in it, and whether these 
 conversations related to a dog fight or a rise in cotton, he 
 gleaned information. 
 
 Sometimes he visited drinking places where the worst of 
 the male sex congregated, and often had he volunteered to 
 keep the slate when a lot of thieves were raming for the first 
 chances in the fruits of joint robberies. He was thanked, ne- 
 ver molested, and often invited to drink. The slang language 
 of these people, and their motives of conduct, amused him. 
 When he had a few spare dollars he would go to a new spot, 
 where poor broken-down drunkards congregated, men who had 
 not a copper towards paying for a three cent drink. Here he 
 would pick up and stow away in his iron memory any quantity 
 of useful information. He would treat, and treat, the strange 
 crew until his funds were exhausted, and the men themselves 
 wondered at such folly and extravagance. But he gained his 
 point. He was deeper into the mysteries of life after all such 
 night expeditions. 
 
 One lovely April morning, Marion Monck was passing up 
 Nassau street, when he was met by the editor of the Herald. 
 The latter asked in his hasty manner, 
 
 " Well, are you doing any thing ?" 
 
 " Nothing in particular." 
 
 " Will you go South for me ?" asked the editor. 
 
 " What to do ?" asked Marion. 
 
 " I wish you to travel through the Southern States, or at 
 least to spend the summer months in your native State, South 
 Carolina, and write me a series of letters giving me all sorts 
 of information its agriculture, manufactures, society, scenery, 
 great men and little men ; in fact, about every thing ; will 
 you go ?" 
 
 " I will : when do you wish me to start?" asked Marion. 
 
 " At once. Come up to the office and I will give you funds. 
 Leave to day if you can, and go by the land route to Charles- 
 ton. From that point I wish you to commence writing me 
 letters," said the editor.
 
 VIGOR. 395 
 
 " I will be ready in an hour, and will then come to your of- 
 fice," replied Marion. 
 
 " Good morning that will do," and they parted. 
 
 Marion went at once to his boarding house, packed his 
 trunk, paid his bill, and made arrangements that his trunk 
 should be sent to the Philadelphia depot at five o'clock. 
 
 An hour after he was at the Herald office, received the ne- 
 cessary funds from Mr. Bennett for his journey, and general 
 instructions as to what he was to do, and then bade him fare- 
 well. 
 
 Marion Monck was delighted with the prospect of leaving 
 New York ; he was sick of the city, and beside the prospect of 
 several months to be passed away in pleasant travel, he was 
 to see his parents onoe more, after an absence of many years. 
 He did not bid any one good bye, but wrote a note to Count 
 Falsechinski, and another 'to Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, informing 
 them of his purpose. 
 
 The journey was a pleasant one, passing through Philadel- 
 phia, Baltimore, Washington, Richmond, and Wilmington, 
 North Carolina, by land, and thence to Charleston by steamboat. 
 He reached Charleston the fourth day after leaving New York. 
 The next day he went up to the residence of his parents at 
 Monck's Corners. To give any idea of the reception he met 
 with there would vastly exceed our limits. He found his pa- 
 rents and aunty older, but still hale and hearty, and in the 
 most independent circumstances. He did not leave his home 
 for two weeks, and then he returned to Charleston, and com- 
 menced writing letters to the Herald. These letters made a 
 sensation at the time. They were all signed " Commissioner," 
 and dated Charleston, Augusta, Columbia, Camden, Green- 
 ville, Sparta, Glen Springs, Unionville, Wiusboro', Caesar's 
 Head, Flat Rock, and other points of interest in the State, not 
 excepting Fort Hill, near Pendleton, the residence and home 
 of the great Calhoun. There Marion spent two months, for he 
 was an especial favorite of the great statesman. These letters 
 can all be found in old files of the Herald. There were six 
 published in the London Herald, written by " Commissioner," 
 who was Marion Monck, and who wrote these letters as flyers. 
 The series, if collected and bound in a volume, would have a 
 great run, for it is now no secret, that in writing these letters 
 Marion had assistance from the highest source in the State. 
 Mr. Calhoun himself furnished most of the ideas, (and some 
 were brilliant.) for these Southern letters. 
 
 While a resident at Mr. Calhoun's mansion, Marion Monck
 
 396 VIGOR. 
 
 became acquainted with a lady and her daughter who were up 
 on a visit to the great statesman's family, in fact were dis- 
 tantly related. The young girl was not twelve years of age, 
 and a regular wild one. She would ride with ease the most 
 skittish horse on Mr. Calhoun's plantation, and would drive 
 into Pendleton and back again in a buggy, with perfect safety. 
 When she rode about the place, or visited any of the neigh- 
 bors, she rarely troubled the negroes to open gates for her, 
 but made her horse leap the various fences. 
 
 " That torn-boy will break her neck," exclaimed Mrs. Cal- 
 houn, on one occasion, as " Cara " came full tilt with her horse 
 over the fence of the door yard. Mr. Calhoun was also on the 
 piazza of his residence, standing by the side of his wife, and 
 was a witness to the feat. 
 
 " Don't call her torn-boy. It is not a proper title. I like to 
 see it. Cara by such exercises is developing her physical 
 powers, and one day will be able to become such a wife and 
 mother as God intended women to be. There is no weak, 
 sickly effeminacy about her, engendered by being shut up in 
 a parlor, without pure air or healthy exercise. I like to see 
 a girl educated in that manner. It is an education worth more 
 to her and to society than it is even to be able to read and 
 write, if she could not have both physical and mental educa- 
 tion." 
 
 Marion listened with interest to these remarks about a little 
 girl that he escorted to various places, leading her by the 
 hand. These remarks probably led him in after years, when 
 Mr. Calhoun had descended to the tomb, to make this ci-devant 
 little girl " Cara " Mrs. Mouck. But we are getting on too 
 fast with our story. 
 
 It was late in October before Marion Monck had finished the 
 tour of South Carolina. Then he returned to Monck's Cor- 
 ners, and spent another happy month svith his parents. His 
 father was extremely anxious that he should give up New York 
 and remain at home. 
 
 " You have seen the world, my son. Why not now settle 
 down and live at home ? We are not rich, but we have every 
 comfort that a reasonable young man can desire. Where else 
 can you find more substantial happiness ?" 
 
 It was all in vain. Marion's mind was made up, and no in- 
 ducement held out by his father could persuade him to give 
 up for a moment his long dream of ambition, which was to suc- 
 ceed as a merchant in New York.
 
 VIGOR. 397 
 
 " I will make a spoon or spoil a horn in that city," was Ma- 
 rion's quiet rejoinder, quoting a favorite axiom of his father. 
 
 " You say, Marion, that you* desire to go into business in 
 New York. Let mother and I make up what capital you need. 
 By selling cattle and stock of various kinds, and adding to it 
 some bank stock that we have put by, we could give you some 
 seven or eight thousand dollars, and not miss it much if you 
 were to lose it all," said his father. 
 
 " God bless you, dear father. I would not touch your hard 
 earnings if it was to be the means of making me as rich as all 
 the Ravenels and old Wade Hamptons to boot. No don't say 
 a word about it. I shall not starve in New York, and I may 
 succeed," said Marion. 
 
 " And if you do succeed, my son, what does it all amount 
 to ? You can't eat any more you can't drink any more you 
 can't sleep any more, if you succeed, as you call it, and get to 
 be worth millions, than you can up here at Monck's Corners 
 in our own comfortable homestead, which will be all yours 
 when we die. Besides, there is no such hunting in New York 
 city as here. There are no such deer there are no such wild 
 turkeys ; and you can catch more fish in the Santee Canal and 
 Biggin Creek in half an hour than you can catch in the New 
 York waters in a week," exclaimed the honest old father. 
 
 Marion laughed and replied, " True as gospel, my dear fa- 
 ther ; and you might have added, there are no such live oaks 
 in any New York door-yard as there are about this house no 
 such magnificent forests, and all that. Still I must try my 
 luck in the city for a while longer. I should stagnate here 
 die from actual want of something to do." 
 
 " A wilful man will have his way," replied the elder Monck, 
 and left Marion, while he went to look after his horses. 
 
 The mother, who loved her son devotedly, was equally un- 
 successful in her endeavors to persuade him to give up New 
 .York, and settle at Monck's Corners. When the time came for 
 his departure, both parents accompanied him to Charleston, 
 and did not return to Monck's Corners until Marion had sailed 
 for New York. 
 
 While in Charleston, Marion called ou his early friend Mrs. 
 Ferguson. She was delighted to soe him once more, and he 
 expressed his gratitude for the success which her letter of in- 
 troduction many years previous had brought to him. The 
 good lady said, 
 
 " I have sold out everything, and am ready to go to New 
 York to live with Bessy. She has written for me>"
 
 398 VIGOR. 
 
 " So she told me before I left New York. In fact, I had no 
 idea that I should find you here. Why not go on to New York 
 with me ?" said Marion. 
 
 " I certainly will do so if you will take charge of me," was 
 the reply of the worthy landlady. 
 
 It was so arranged, and Marion secured a passage for Mrs. 
 Ferguson on board the ship Saluda. They had a pleasant pas- 
 sage to New York, and when the ship reached the dock Marion 
 hired a carriage, and conveyed the lady to the residence of 
 Mrs. Wilson, her niece. He remained only long enough to 
 shake hands, and then went to the Herald office, where he 
 found Mr. Bennett. He was cordially received. 
 
 " Capital letters you sent me. 1 published every one of 
 them. They were very interesting," observed the editor. 
 
 " I am very glad that they pleased you. I should have sent 
 you more, but I was detained several weeks at Mr. Calhoun's 
 residence," added Marion. 
 
 " I am not disappointed. What money have you received 
 while you were absent ?" 
 
 " Just enough to pay my current expenses. I have not 
 been very extravagant," replied Marion. 
 
 Mr. Bennett took a slip of paper, wrote a few words upon 
 it, and handed it to Marion, observing, at the same time, "How 
 would you like to go to Washington ?" 
 
 " I don't know at present. I have to see a person, and then 
 I will tell you," replied Marion. 
 
 " Very well. Call upon me when your mind is made up," 
 said Mr. Bennett, and Marion left him to go with the slip of 
 paper to the cashier. It was for three hundred and fifty dol- 
 lars. When Marion had pocketed the money, he said to him- 
 self, " Well, that is not bad, considering that I have had some 
 fun. In fact, I did not expect to receive a cent, and am rather 
 surprised at the liberal amount. The fifty must answer my 
 needs, and so I will invest the three hundred in a check on 
 Charleston." 
 
 He went at once to the office of Spofford & Tileston, large 
 merchants engaged in the cotton trade. There he bought a 
 draft on Charleston for three hundred dollars, made payable 
 to "Henry Monck," or ^>rder. When Mr. Tileston saw the 
 name, he asked Marion if he was not the author of the letters 
 from the South signed " Commissioner ?" Marion hesitated 
 before he gave a reply. 
 
 " Mr. Bennett told me so," added Mr. Tileston.
 
 VIGOR. 399 
 
 " Then I shall not deny it, if that is the case. I did write 
 the letters," said Marion. 
 
 " And extremely interesting they were. I am glad to meet 
 with you," said the merchant. 
 
 When Marion took his leave he went up to his old Spanish 
 boarding-house, and re-took his room. His prelty senorita 
 friends Inez and Isabella were delighted to see him, and he 
 was glad to see them. He at once wrote a letter to his father, 
 after the following fashion : 
 
 " NEW YORK, Dec. 1, 18. 
 
 ' My Dear Father 
 
 " I am safe bf>ck in the great city that you so honestly detest. I was 
 agreeably surprised on my arrival to find that my Southern letters have 
 proved to be worth three nundred and fifty dollars. The fifty dollars I 
 shall spend the three hundred dollars I do not need. When I was last 
 with vou, I noticed that you were very anxious to own the magnificent 
 stallion " Santee." belonging to your friend Schopman. The price asked 
 was three hundred dollars. The enclosed order will just pay for that 
 horse, and I beg you will consider it a gift from your affectionate son. 
 Give my love to mother and to aunt Mary, and give a pound of tobacco to 
 Mann, Phillis. and Daddy Jemmy respectively. They will appreciate to- 
 bacco more than a love message. iour affectionate son, 
 
 " MARIOX MONCK." 
 
 When Marion had finished this document, he inclosed the 
 draft in it, and then mailed it himself at the post-office. Then 
 he went up town, where he met a friend whs told him that he 
 had been earnestly -sought after by the Count Falsechinski. 
 So Marion left a card at the residence of Mr. Grasper, for the 
 Count was not at home when he called. Then he went around 
 town to places where he was known, and at a late hour returned 
 to his boarding-house. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIII. 
 
 TJ>f Count Falsechinskft Position Scenp at Breakfast Meets Walter Gran- 
 ville Scene with Clara Norris Pitt Granville becomes insane, and is taken 
 to the Bloomingdale Asylum. 
 
 FEW persons could be found who appeared to enjoy life and 
 his position with more satisfaction than the Count Adolph 
 Falsechinski. Every thing that he had meddled with had 
 turned out successfully from the moment he met Marion 
 Monck. If he gambled, he became a heavy winner. He 
 sought a clerkship, and it gave him habits of business, and a 
 position ; he taught languages, and he made money and valuable
 
 400 VIGOR. 
 
 acquaintances; lie speculated in stocks and doubled his mo- 
 ney in real estate, and it brought him a fortune. He mar- 
 ried, and obtained beauty, dignity, rich relations, and a large 
 amount of cash ; and even while these successes were being 
 achieved by his own diligence and exertions, his patriotic bro- 
 ther died, leaving hiijj the head of an old noble family in Po- 
 land ; and a slight fine restored to him his title of Count, and 
 the estates unincumbered. 
 
 After his marriage with Miss Grasper, the Count travelled 
 with his bride for several weeks. .On their return to the city 
 they made their residence at the granite palace of Mr. Grasper. 
 The Count had won the heart of the old gentleman, who be- 
 came more pleased with the match as he became better ac- 
 quainted with the sterling qualities of his son-in-law. The 
 Countess became devotedly attached to her husband ; he was 
 kind and attentive, and his devotion did not end with the ho- 
 neymoon he commanded respect wherever he went, and every 
 hour's intimacy taught the bride to respect more and more her 
 lord and master. 
 
 Over the mind of Francis Grasper, his brother-in-law, the 
 Count was not long in obtaining a complete mastery. The 
 former admired thfe latter as much as one man could possibly 
 admire another, and was pleased to have him for his relative. 
 He made his sister happy, and what more could be desired ? 
 
 " Frank, I wish you to go and dine with me to-day where we 
 can be alone by ourselves," said the Count one morning, when 
 all were assembled at breakfast. 
 
 " Nothing would give me more pleasure ; when and where 
 shall it be ?" 
 
 " At Delmonico's, time three o'clock," and turning to the 
 old gentleman, he added, " The fact is, Mr. Grasper, I have a 
 place for Frank which I think he will like, and after I have 
 made sure of it by a private conversation with him, I will ex- 
 plain the matter to you. I detest seeing a fine young fellow 
 like Frank, although he may come into a fortune some day, 
 without any visible means of exertion. I should like to see 
 him employed useful, doing something." 
 
 ' Count, you have hit my ideas precisely. To tell you the 
 truth, I would like to have Frank do something for himself he 
 is quite old enough to settle down. If you can arrange it, you 
 will oblige me very much." 
 
 " Then do not forget your own appointment, Frank ; and 
 now I must leave you." 
 
 With this sudden closing, the Count passed into the street
 
 VIGOR. 401 
 
 and wended his way down town, stopping at Centre street, in 
 the hope of meeting Marion or of learning his whereabouts. 
 Although he did not find Marion, he discovered a person whom 
 he remembered very well, notwithstanding his features were 
 altered. It was Walter Granville, smoking a cigar and drink- 
 ing a glass of hot toddy. Somewhat fiercely he addressed the 
 Count. 
 
 " Well, Count, you have got up a little higher in the world 
 than when I first knew you. Then I believe you taught lan- 
 guages ?" 
 
 " I have no reason to be ashamed of my profession, when I 
 had the honor to teach a lady who is now I believe Mrs. Wal- 
 ter Granville," and the Count bowed. 
 
 " Yes, you did teach my wife, and I am much obliged to 
 you. A good many of our old friends have stepped out since 
 I first met you." 
 
 " Colonel Mac Neil is dead Mr. Nordheim is dead your 
 uncle Thomas is dead. Yes, we all have to die. Have you 
 seen your father ?" 
 
 " No, I have not ; he does not trouble his head about me, 
 and I see no reason why I should fret about him. They say 
 you are rich, Count. Is it so ?" a?ked the young man. 
 
 " I am not poor, and I am not ashamed under my altered 
 circumstances, to say I -gas once very poor. Can I be of any 
 service to you, Mr. VValter ?" 
 
 " Not a bit, not a particle- I can steer my own canoe : will 
 you take a drink ?" 
 
 " Excuse me, I rarely drink in the morning, and I must 
 hurry down town ; good morning, sir," and with these few 
 words the Count took his departure. 
 
 " That is a proud, haughty cuss ; he was once humble 
 enough, but he has pluck and I like him. I wish my old gov- 
 ernor would kick the bucket, and then I would hold up my 
 head as high as any of them," muttered the son to himself after 
 the Count's departure. " Jemmy, give me another drink. I 
 wonder what the devil keeps Harry away so long. Sure he 
 has not been here, eh ?" 
 
 " I am certain he has not been here, and he will probably be 
 along soon. Who was your friend that just went out 1" asked 
 the bar tender. 
 
 " That is a real live Count the Count Falsechinski and he 
 has got the brads, too," was the reply. 
 
 " I saw him give Colonel Mac Neil a hundred dollars one 
 day it was just before the Colonel died,'' said Jemmy.
 
 402 VIGOR. 
 
 " The deuce you did why, what claim had the Colonel on 
 the Count ?" 
 
 " I do not know, but the fact is as I tell you. There is your 
 friend Robinson." 
 
 At this moment Henry Robinson entered the store from the 
 rear, and without a word took a chair and seated himself by 
 Walter Granville. 
 
 " What the old Nick makes you look so moody any thing 
 gone wrong ?" inquired Walter. 
 
 " Yes, every thing seems to me wrong. I have just called 
 on your wife. I am getting too much in her debt. It is a 
 shame, but I can't help it. Rose, poor thing, is an awful 
 expense, but she can't help it. I was obliged to get funds 
 from Mrs. Granville this morning." 
 
 " Well, that is all right. Did she shell out freely, or hesi- 
 tate ?" asked Walter. 
 
 " Not in the least, and I do not like riding a free horse to 
 death, when I have rich relatives of my own. I told Mrs. 
 Granville so this morning, and asked her advice. She gave 
 me a plan to work upon, and curse me if I don't try it on. I 
 am going to have an interview with my parents what do you 
 think of that?" 
 
 " If Clara my wife, I mean has suggested a plan, it is a 
 good one. She is clever. What a* infernal shame that such 
 
 a woman should ever have been a Blame il, I cannot 
 
 pronounce the word when I am speaking of my own wife. But 
 she is honest now, and the old devil we live with ! a'nt she a 
 .sanctified old sinner ? don't mention it," said Walter. 
 
 " I shall try the plan, and if it succeeds you shall know all 
 about it. If it does not, there is no harm done. Answer me 
 one question. Do you think Rose would pass for a Spanish 
 girl ?" 
 
 " Blame me if I don't think she would. If she only spoke 
 Spanish you could not tell her from a genuine pretty senorita 
 black hair and eyes, and all that sort of thing." 
 
 These two young men continued together for some hours, 
 drinking and smoking, until Walter was " pretty tight." 
 
 " Harry, I shall not see you very often after this. I think 
 you will get all right with your parents if so, the less you 
 see of me the better, and the less Rose has to do with Clara 
 the better. In fact, old fellow, don't think hard of me if I 
 should soon be among the missing. This getting money from 
 a woman as I do, is not the thing for me. i shall cut it before 

 
 VIGOR. 403 
 
 
 . 
 
 a great while, and then I am off to sea again. I like indepen- 
 dence." 
 
 " But your wife what will she do ?" 
 
 " She be blamed. She has always taken care of herself 
 without me, and can do it again. Not a word about what I 
 have said to you, to her," observed Walter Gran ville. 
 
 He parted with Robinson at the door of. the grog-shop, and 
 went at once to his wife's apartment in Bond street. When 
 he entered the room, he flung himself upon the sofa, saying, 
 " How are you, <Clara ? All alone, eh ? That is right." 
 
 " Beast," was hissed through the lady's teeth, and then she 
 continued, " Walter Granville, you are drunk again. In fact, 
 it is nothing but drunk from morning until night. I will put 
 up with it no longer. Either stop it or quit," said Clara, 
 firmly. 
 
 " Quit that's the word, is it ?" Walter raised himself upon 
 the sofa. Then he sat up. " Quit is it to be ? You infer- 
 nal wicked prostitute. Your acts have inveigled me into a 
 marriage, and now because I don't please you because I try 
 to drown my degradation in drink, you want to cry ' quit,' " 
 and as he said this he sprung at her, and closing his Rands 
 about her neck, he choked her until he himself got scared, for 
 when he removed his hands she sank down upon the sofa with- 
 out sense or motion. He stepped to the washstand, seized a 
 jug of water, and threw the entire contents ove"r her person, 
 drenching her completely. " Now live or die, curse you. I 
 don't care which. I ought to kill you, and rid the world of a 
 female devil. Would to God I had never seen you, and I 
 hope that to-night is the last that I shall spend within a thou- 
 sand miles of you. You are getting around again, eh ?" ex- 
 claimed Walter. 
 
 Clara opened her eyes and gazed at him. " Walter, I did 
 not expect this from you. You hurt me cruelly," she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " Did I ? It will do you good teach you to keep a civil 
 tongue in your head, for it is a bit of a foretaste of what I will 
 do with you if ever I put my hands about you again in real 
 anger. I would choke you as I would a bad hen. You spoke 
 of parting. I am ready. What have you got to say to it ?" 
 asked Walter. 
 
 " I was only vexed for a moment, dear Walter. I did not 
 mean to hurt your feelings. You know I love you, and have 
 tried to be a good faithful wife to you," said Clara, weeping. 
 
 " Oh, fol-de-rol, I say. I am going in earnest, old gal, and
 
 404 VIGOR. 
 
 it's no use talking. If you have got any spare change, give it 
 to me, for I shall never ask you again. I am going to be in- 
 dependent, if I ain't any thing else," continued Walter. 
 
 It was in vain that Mrs. Granville remonstrated, begged, and 
 even prayed Walter to remain. Threaten him, she dare not 
 do, after the experience she had Lad of his choking propensi- 
 ties. She handed him her purse. He took from it a few dol- 
 lars, and handed the rest back to her. 
 
 " I want a rig and enough to carry me to Alexandria. Them 
 I am going to ship before the mast in a vessel bound round the 
 Horn. That is between you and me. The fact is, you will 
 hear of my death in about a fortnight. Then you can play the 
 gay widow, and no fear of my ever turning up again. I will 
 do you that justice, for ever I do come this way, it will be 
 years hence, and under some assumed name. Keep up a stout 
 heart. It's no use talking, Clara. It has got to be as I have 
 said. You are tired of me. I am tired of you. That is hon- 
 est. If I stay here, all your money won't keep me from a 
 drunkard's death. It will force it on me. Now let us part 
 friends," said Walter. 
 
 CJara Norris was, for once in her life, affected. She knew 
 the determined will of Walter Granville. She knew that she 
 should see him no more that he was going to sea on a long 
 voyage. She burst into tears. 
 
 " Oh, Walter, I cannot bear this. Do not go, or take me 
 with you." 
 
 " Nonsense. Now mark my words. You will see my death 
 in the papers before long. I w;>nt to be dead to all here. But 
 I tell you there will not be a word of truth in it. I shall con- 
 tinue to live under some assumed name. Now good-bye. No 
 nonsense." Saying this he kissed her, and was about to leave 
 when he seemed to remember something. He then said, 
 " Clara, if you have one tender spot for poor Walter, and want 
 to do me a kindness, lend a helping hand to Harry Robinson 
 and Rose," and before she could reply he was out of the 
 room, down the stairs, and in the street. Wha,t direction he 
 took after leaving her, she never heard. 
 
 More than a fortnight elapsed before she heard any more of 
 him. Then a ( notice appeared in the morning paper, copied 
 from a Philadelphia paper. It was as follows : 
 
 " Walter Granville, a sailor on board the ship Liberty, was lost over- 
 ooard on the 17th inst. The ship was dropping down the river, and had 
 anchored near Wilmington. The body was not recovered. The young 
 sailor was a son of Mr. Pitt Granville, an eminent New York merchant." 
 
 *
 
 VIGOR. 405 
 
 Clara read and re-read the article. " He has complied with 
 a part of his promise. I suppose he went ashore at Wilming- 
 ton, and then proceeded on to Alexandria by railroad," slie 
 thought aloud. But there was one house in which that article 
 was read where its effects were fearful. It reached No. 9 
 State street, and was read by W. Pitt Granville. He at once 
 screamed with laughter. Then he called the rest of the fam- 
 ily. Read the announcement of his son's death, making, at the 
 same time, the most ludicrous grimaces. He said it was " fun- 
 ny," " rare sport," " Walter was always fond of swimming," 
 " better to be drowned than married." He was not violent, 
 but his mind had failed or, at least, had temporarily given 
 way. 
 
 Colonel Benson came, and his son also. Mr. Granville was 
 insane. There was no question about it. Physicians were 
 called in. A person was appointed to take temporary charge 
 of him, until some permanent provision could be made to euro 
 him if possible, or, at least, for his safety, should his madness 
 assume a violent form. 
 
 It was found that Mr. Granville was, at times, quite insane, 
 and on one of his sane days he himself proposed that his friends 
 should take him to the Bloomingdale Asylum. This was event- 
 ually done. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIY. 
 
 Marion Monck pays a second visit to Mr Doemall, in the Bloomingdale 
 Asylum Curious Pun among Mad People Surprising number of He- 
 sped'ible rich Ptople in that Asylum - Arrival of Pitt Granville at the 
 Institution Mr. O'JJoewall coi/tes out Invests Ms ten thousand dollars, 
 and leaves New York His Villainies. 
 
 WHEN Marion Monck paid a second visit to the Bloomingdale 
 Asylum, he found the patient, Mr. O'Doemall, quite convales- 
 cent. As soon as he saw Marion approach, he shook his head 
 pleasantly, and exclaimed, " Ah, you precious fellow, are you 
 not ashamed of yourself to have trapped me into a mad house 
 so nicely. Country hotel, eh ?" 
 
 " I do not think I could have acted better for your own good 
 than I did. You were in a shocking state, perfectly incompe- 
 tent to take care of yourself, and I did precisely as I would 
 have wished a real friend to act for me. Are you under any 
 restraint now ?" asked Marion.
 
 406 VIGOR. 
 
 " None whatever. I needed sleep, and I obtained it the 
 second night. What a horrible thing this drink is ! The 
 medical genius has had to keep me under lock and key for two 
 days. Now tell me the circumstances under which you brought 
 me here. I have a faint recollection of them, but am not clear," 
 replied O'Doemall. 
 
 Marion related the manner in which he met O'Doemall at 
 Windust's cellar, his interview with Mr. James, and the re- 
 ceipt of money ; and added, " You seemed perfectly cool. You 
 counted your money. Bye-the-by, I wish you to relieve me of 
 further charge in the matter. I received six hundred dollars. 
 I paid out hack hire ten, and three months' board here for you 
 is sixty dollars more, and here is five hundred and thirty." 
 
 Here he handed O'Doemall that sum, who counted it delib- 
 erately, and observed, 
 
 " All as right as a twist. It is not every man that would 
 have acted in this manner, but I flatter myself, Mr. Monck, 
 that I understand human character pretty well. That Mr. 
 James would have robbed me of every cent and cleared out. 
 By-the-by, where is that precious chap ? I wish you to answer 
 me another question. Does anybody beside you and James 
 know that I am here ?" 
 
 " Not a soul. James has left New York from some cause 
 or another, and has gone over to Jersey He left his address 
 in case you wished to write him, and told me to tell you that 
 there was an English mad dog in New York, and that you had 
 better keep from being bit by keeping out of the way," said 
 Marion. 
 
 " Ah yes, I understand the mad dog I suppose is liquor. 
 It has bit me, and I will keep out of the way. I rather like 
 this place, and as my board is paid, I shall stay some weeks, 
 or until my nerves get so strong that I can resist the tempta- 
 tion to drink. What do you think of it? It is rather discred- 
 itable to be in a mad house, but as no one of my city friends 
 is aware that I am here, my character is safe, eh ?" said Mr. 
 O'Doemall, who had very powerful reasons for keeping shady. 
 He deceived Marion completely, and the latter replied to him, 
 
 " The very best thing that you can do. Your business will 
 not suffer, and your health will be really benefitted. I will do 
 anything that 1 can for you in the city." 
 
 " Thank you. There is but one thing you can do. I wish 
 you to call at Blancard's Globe Hotel, and ascertain if Colonel 
 Clairfoot is stopping there. If you find that he is, or that he 
 is in New York, I want you to ascertain when he leaves the
 
 VIGOR. 407 
 
 city for Eugland or Canada. I will do as much for you if I 
 ever have the chance. In making inquiries about the Colonel, 
 do not let any one know why you ask about him, and promise 
 me that you will not cover me with eternal disgrace by letting 
 a soul know that I am in this mad-pen, or in existence. Will 
 you promi.se me that much ?" asked O'Doemall. 
 
 " With all my heart. Not a living soul shall be aware that 
 you are alive, from my lips," replied the good-natured and un- 
 suspicious Marion, who had no idea that placing O'Doemall in 
 the Asylum had saved his life perhaps in more ways than one. 
 It certainly was a secure and unsuspected refuge for the guilty 
 man ; for Colonel Clairfoot had applied to the police for aid to 
 discover O'Doemall, and the city had been searched from one 
 end to the other. 
 
 " What sort of a time have you had here ? Do the keepers 
 treat you well?" asked Marion. 
 
 " Like a prince ; and it is the funniest institution on Man- 
 hattan Island. Of course I am not mad, but all these people 
 are as mad as March hares, and yet are unconscious of it. Now 
 we have all sorts of amusements a billiard table, a ninepin 
 alley, and these mad chaps go and have a game. Fancy my 
 going to play ninepins with one of them ! I made a match to 
 play a ' pony game.' It all went on very well for some time 
 until I noticed that my opponent hesitated. He held in his 
 hand a good sized pony ball, and his eyes began to flash fire. 
 ' I am Jupiter, the Thunderer. Look out for my thunder, 
 mortal! and he fixed his frenzied eyes upon me, and lifted up 
 the pony menacingly. You can bet high that the mortal 
 sloped, and I ran out the back way as fas-t as my legs would 
 carry me ; but I was chased for some distance by Jupiter the 
 Thunderer, who let fly a pony ball that whizzed with an inch 
 of my head. If it had hit me, my brains would have been 
 scattered. One of the alarm-keepers heard the noise, and 
 Jupiter was seized, made fast, and carried to a private apart- 
 inentj where he might thunder as much as he pleased, but 
 where his thunder could not take the shape of an iron-wood 
 pony ball. 
 
 " I frequently walk about these beautiful grounds, and en- 
 joy the pure air. I meet on such occasions both ladies and 
 gentlemen ; Of course they are mad, or they would not be here. 
 You are apt, however, to forget the fact. Yesterday a gentle- 
 man met me in one of my walks, and as he came opposite to 
 me, he raised his hat in the most respectful manner, observed 
 that it was a fine day, arfd wished to know if he could serve
 
 408 VIGOR. 
 
 me. Upon my soul I took him' to be one of the physicians or 
 Board of Directors, as the latter frequently come here, and I 
 turned to join him in his walk. I asked him many questions, 
 and he answered them all with marked politeness. He was an 
 amiable follow. Finally he asked me to come and take a seat 
 in an arbor. I complied ; andliad no sooner done so, than he 
 placed himself in the open doorway, and asked, ' Do you know 
 me ?' ' I suppose I do. You are doubtless one of the Mana- 
 gers or Board of Directors.' He began to regard me rather 
 more savagely than I liked, and replied, ' Wrong, sir. I am 
 one of the Board of Directors of Heaven. I am the archangel 
 Gabriel, and I will scorch you up like a feather with one of my 
 wings, if you move ;' and with this he began to use one of his 
 flippers like a wing. I started to get out, but he sprang upon 
 me like a wild-cat, uttering, with a most fearful yell, ' Wretch 
 you murdered my brother angel !' I did get out how, I 
 don't exactly know ; but I left the archaugel Gabriel with the 
 claret flowing down his face pretty freely. I am somewhat 
 given to pugilism, and the poor maniac got a sample of it. But 
 the cases I have mentioned, Mr. Monck, are the quiet, gentle 
 mad people. 0, if you want to see the bad ones, go up where 
 they chain them, and lock them up in cells. You can see 
 frightful cases enough there, if you wish," continued Mr. 
 O'Doemall. 
 
 " I have seen quite enough I have no wish to make a more 
 intimate acquaintance with any of the species of madness ; but 
 can you go out when you please ?" asked Marion. 
 
 " Certainly, if you are once pronounced sane. I could go 
 out with you in five minutes, if you wished. How do you do, 
 Mr. Foster ?" 
 
 This was addressed to a very gentlemanly looking man, 
 nearly sixty years old, who approached them. O'Doemall in- 
 troduced Marion. The three conversed for some time, and 
 then Mr. Foster left them. 
 
 " Good God 1" said Marion, " I know him well. Why, he is 
 a large merchant in South street. Is it possible that he is 
 mad ? Why, he has a family keeps a carriage, and has a 
 pew in Dr. Spring's church !" 
 
 " The very same man, Mr. Monck ; and if he were to give 
 you a check at this moment for twenty thousand ^dollars, it 
 would be paid like winking. He is perfectly sane now," said 
 O'Doemall. 
 
 " Then how in the arch fiend's nama does he happen to be 
 here ?" asked Marion.
 
 VIGOR. 409 
 
 " Because he has drank his wine at dinner for years. He 
 haa drank his brandy and water of an evening, and he is liable 
 to the same tumble as meaner men. ^Feather beds won't give 
 him sleep when his blood is half alcohol. As soon as his 
 family perceive what is coming on, they send him up here for 
 a week or a fortnight, and give out in the city that he is sick. 
 When he gets well, he remains up here several days longer 
 than is necessary. He is a little ashamed of it, but will soon 
 get over that. If he was to kick the bucket up here, nothing 
 would be said about it, and his corpse would be sent down to 
 his owa house. At this moment there are thirty cases of de- 
 lirium tremens in the Bloomingdale Asylum of men of wealth 
 and standing in society professors, merchants, lawyers, judge*, 
 and even drinking physicians, are cured temporarily here. It 
 costs but sixty dollars, and a ride in a hack. Men frequently 
 come here in their owa carriages, brought by their wives, sons 
 or brothers," said O'Doemall. 
 
 " I am somewhat surprised, I assure you. Can it be true ?'' 
 asked Marion. 
 
 " Don't trust to me. Get in with the officials of the esta- 
 blishment, or watch with your own eyes, and you will meet 
 men here that it would be an honor to know elsewhere. Poor 
 devils that drink and get delirious go to the Tombs, Alms- 
 house and Hospital. The rich and respected in society, who 
 can pay sixty dollars and not feel it, come here to get cured, 
 and silence is the watchword for all such cases." 
 
 The two persons had now approached near the wain en- 
 trance, and Marion asked Mr. O'Doemall if ho had any com- 
 mands in town. The reply was in the negative. 
 
 " I do not want anybody living to know that I am here. I 
 am not quite well, and I shall remain here until my general 
 health is completely restored. Come and see me as often as 
 you can, but do not be surprised if I am not out of this for 
 some weeks." 
 
 While they were conversing, a carriage, or rather two car- 
 riages, drove up to the main gate. 
 
 " Some new customer for the mad-house," observed O'Do- 
 emall. 
 
 Neither spoke for some time, until Colonel Benson and his 
 son Middleton came out of .the first carriage. 
 
 " As I live, there is Colonel Benson," said Marion, and 
 added, " I will wait, and see who those people are." 
 
 A moment after a well known physician came from the car. 
 riage,. leading another man. In a moment he was visible. 
 
 18 "
 
 410 VIGOR. 
 
 " The mad chap is Mr. Grnnville, as I am a sinner. There 
 is no mistake about it," said O'Doemall. 
 
 From the second carriage came Mrs. Benson and Isabella 
 Benson and Mrs. Wilson. The group entered the gate, and 
 proceeded to the asylum. 
 
 " A regular family party," said O'Doemall. 
 
 " Walter Granville's death has done the work for his poor 
 old father," added Marion. 
 
 " Is Walter Granville dead ? That is news to me. When 
 did he die ?" asked O'Doemall. 
 
 " He was drowned from a ship in the Delaware river," re- 
 plied Marion. 
 
 The two followed the procession up to the asylum, and after 
 Mr. Granville had been disposed of, and his friends had re- 
 turned to New York, Marion made inquiries of the superinten- 
 dent He ascertained that the physicians had pronounced the 
 case of Mr. Granville to be a melancholy species of insanity, 
 and that being uncertain what form it might take, it had been 
 deemed advisable to place him under a mild restraint, and 
 where he could have the best of mad medical advice. 
 
 It may be as well here to state that Mr. Granville continued 
 to reside at the asylum for months, and then -for years. Ho 
 confided the closing up of his affairs to his son-in-law and Col. 
 Benson. He signed his own papers in liquidation, and even 
 the checks with which he paid his quarterly dues of sixty dol- 
 lars were signed by himself. When he wishes to leave the 
 asylum, he docs so, and not unfrequently, after a visit of two 
 or three days to the city, his own carriage conveys him back 
 to the asylum. He is never violent, but for days is quietly in- 
 sane. He is still wealthy, fur his business was closed up, and 
 his capital invested in real estate and stocks in his own name. 
 His daughter treats him the same as in his palmiest days. His 
 grandchildren are objects of his deepest love, and he never 
 speaks of his son but in a sentence of two words " Poor Wal- 
 ter." 
 
 To return to Mr. O'Doemall and Marion. They commented 
 freely as they walked about the grounds after Mr. Granville 
 had been received upon his insanity. Marion was unable to 
 realize the fact. He was so many years with that merchant, 
 and respected him so highly, it seemed impossible he could 
 fall from his lofty position. He was abruptly startled from his 
 reflection by the voice of O'Doemall. 
 
 " That sweetheart of yours. Miss Isabel, is quite a little ugly 
 old woman. I suppose seeing her has touched a soft spot, eh ?"
 
 VIGOR. -ill 
 
 "Not at all. I am pained to see the hoad of the family in- 
 side of these walls, and I am sorry that his daughter should be 
 a witness of her father's incarceration. But she hns shown 
 that she has filial feeling in her heart by coming here with 
 him, and I respect her the more for so doing," observed Ma- 
 rion, quietly. 
 
 " I have no wish to hurry you, but it is time for you to go. 
 The hour of visitors is passed," said O'Doemall. 
 
 Marion bade him good-bye, left the asylum, and returned to 
 town. 
 
 It was some days before he could execute the commission of 
 Mr. O'Doemall in reference to Colonel Clairfoot. When he 
 returned to the asjlum, he carried with him a newspaper in 
 which, among the list of passengers by a packet ship that had 
 sailed for Liverpool, were found the names of thv Colonel and 
 Lady Clairfoot. When O'Doemall read this, be asked Marion 
 if he came out in a carriage. The reply was in the affirmative. 
 
 " Then I will return to the city with you. I am quite well." 
 
 Marion had no objection to offer, and the two came to the 
 city in the same carriage. O'Doemall ordered the eeacliman 
 to drop him at the " Waverly," a hotel on the corner of Broad- 
 way and Exchange street. 
 
 With Mr. O'Doemall our story will soon finish. New York 
 got too hot for him. He had committed acts that, fairly inves- 
 tigated, would have sent him to the State Prison. He had es- 
 caped the immediate danger from his wrongs to Lady Clair- 
 foot, but how soon an avenger might return and hold him to a 
 stern account, was not to be calculated upon. With such dan- 
 gers staring him in the face, he made up his mind to leavo 
 New York for a time, if not forever. He called upon the re- 
 spectable firm with whom he had deposited ten thousand dol- 
 lars, being a portion of the money he had robbed from Lady 
 Clairfoot. He requested the firm to obtain for him ten certifi- 
 cates of deposit in the Hank of New York, payable to his order, 
 for one thousand dollars each, and he called and left his signa- 
 ture at the bank and received the ten certificates. Armed with 
 this sum and the ready ca^h he had about him, he left New 
 York without a word to a living man or woman as to his des- 
 tination. 
 
 He was seen not many months afterwards in tha streets of 
 New Orleans by one who had known him in New York, and 
 still later, when the California excitement broke out, a vessel 
 said to be owned by him left New Orleans for San Francisco 
 
 in California. He arrived there iu safety, and sold the ship. 
 
 . -
 
 412 VIGOR. 
 
 His adventures in that gold region were of a spirited char- 
 acter, and if ever they are published, if his character did not 
 change from what it was in New York, they will be a chapter 
 of rogueries, rascalities and villainies unequalled in any annals 
 save the volumes of the English Newgate Calendar. 
 
 CHAPTER LXY. 
 
 IJf.nry Robinson introduces Rose to Ai'.f Parent! as a Spanish Gtrl Clara 
 Nvrix Grunvillt R-tu>nx to her Farm in Sussa Her I 1 .rents, Brother^ 
 and Si-ter Reflections upon the Care r of Cl^rit. 
 
 HENRY ROBINSON did not rest long after her conversation 
 with Walter Granville before he put the plan he had proposed 
 into operation. He called upon his parents. They were 
 delighted to once more behold their truant son. The mother 
 gave wap at once, and clasped him in her arms. All was for- 
 gotten and forgiven. The father hesitated, but as he looked 
 at his son, more manly than ever, and bronzed by exposure 
 and hardships, he too forgave, and all was vrnll. 
 
 " Now, Harry, will you give up all your follies, stay at home, 
 and be a good boy ?" 
 
 " Father, I will ; but I am no hypocrite. Mother, join with 
 me in asking forgiveness for one act more. I have concealed 
 it, bat I will do so no longer. In my travels in South Amer- 
 ica at one of the ports of Peru I met with a lovely girl. She 
 loved me. She was an orphan. She abandoned home, and 
 came with me to America. I have married her. I could not 
 do less. Will you forgive me ? Say but this. Receive my 
 Rosa, and I will do all that you wish me to do. She is at a 
 hotel waiting for your decision. Forgive me this act, for it 
 brings you a lovely daughter, as well as a repentant son." 
 
 Long and painful was the suspense. Then Mr. Robinson 
 inquired if .she was of good family ? 
 
 " The best ; v but all her relations are dead. She has now no 
 one but her husband to love, and if you forgive me, then she 
 will have two good parents to love and respect, as I do," said 
 Harry, and he knelt to his parents and bowed his head almost 
 to the carpet. 
 
 " Does she speak English ?" asked the father. 
 
 " Sho does. I have taught it to her, and made her pledge 
 her solemn word that she will not speak a word of Spanish for
 
 VIGOR. 413 
 
 two years. This will make your son forget that she is a Span- 
 ish girl." 
 
 " Harry, we forgive you. Go at once and bring your wife 
 here. We will receive her with open arms. Mother, you 
 agree to this, eh ?" 
 
 Of course the mother, agreed to it, and Harry hurried off for 
 his wife. When he reached her and informed her of all that 
 had occurred. She shrank from the task. " Oh, if they 
 should find me out. I cannot speak Spanish," pleaded Rose. 
 
 " I have told them that you have promised not to do so for 
 two year.s, so that you will have to keep from Spanish for that 
 length of time," laughingly observed Harry. 
 
 At last poor Rose was equipped properly for the expedition. 
 Her baggage was packed, and she entered the carriage (hat 
 was to convey her to the house of her husband's parents with a 
 shrinking, palpitating heart. She was beautiful, and Harry, 
 as he clasped her to his heart, whispered words of encourage- 
 ment and endearment at the same moment. 
 
 Again he entered his father's doors; and leaning on his arm 
 was the pretty but confused trembler. They entered the par- 
 lor, and the fair girl was kissed and embraced by both parents. 
 It was a happy day. That night, before the family retired, 
 Henry was called into a room by his father : " You have sown 
 your wild oats, I hope, Harry. You have married a charming 
 wife, and, you dog, if you don't make her happy, I will never 
 forgive you. You must go into business. I know a large 
 broker who needs a partner and capital. I will furnish you as 
 his partner, and the necessary capital. Do you agree to it, 
 my son ]" 
 
 " I agree, dear father, to any thing you propose.. I can only 
 regret that I ever disobeyed you iu aiiy thing," said Henry, 
 with real feeling. 
 
 " Let all that pass. Your wife is a lady if she is Spanish. 
 I can see that she has got the old Hidalgo blood in hjr veins ; 
 make her happy, you dog," said the father. 
 
 Tue happy husband was once more upon his feet. His fa- 
 ther placed him in business, and rented and furnished a house 
 for him. The son devoted himself to business, became in due 
 time a parent, and in a sweet domestic home found happiness 
 und respect. He made money in business ; his wii'e becoming 
 an ornament to society ; and few who witnessed the Spanish 
 beauty, dressed in wiiite, with hc;r long dark hair, and covered 
 with diamond* as she appeared in the parlors at a ^arg^.* party, 
 .that she had ever been an ' outcast ' in New Yoik. No oue
 
 414 VIGOR. 
 
 know it but Clara Norris and Mrs. Woodruff. The latter 
 knew very little about Rose or her husband and though sh<; 
 once met the beautiful and fashionable Mrs. Robinson, she 
 never dreamed that she had known her as Clara's friend Rose. 
 
 The change in her position in life never leaked out, and if it 
 had, it could never have been proved. As years rolled on 
 Robinson felt more at ease, and when his father died, leaving 
 him a splendid fortune, he feared no longer. 
 
 This ends his connection or that of Rose with our story. We 
 must now return to Clara Granville. Her advice had led to 
 this happy result. 
 
 The melancholy intelligence that Walter Granville had been 
 drowned was no sooner communicated to his wife Clara Norris 
 than she prepared to make the most of it. 
 
 Properly handled, it would add to her respectability in one 
 quarter, and that was at her home in Sussex County, New Jer- 
 sey. She caused his death to be noticed in all the Jersey 
 newspapers, as she had on the occasion of her marriage had a 
 notice to that effect widely circulated. The widow Clara 
 Granville hud a large quantity of the most suitable mourning 
 dresses made, and in that regard her conduct was unexception- 
 able. When the dresses were finished, she took her departure 
 from New York for Sussex County. 
 
 She did not for one instant believe that Walter was dead. 
 She knew better, but it suited her plans and purposes to act 
 as if he were. 
 
 This woman was still gloriously beautiful. She had not lost 
 one charm. Age seemed in her case to improve all that she 
 originally possessed. She had taken the greatest care of her 
 person and her health : she dressed with elegance, and aimed 
 at the simplicity and innocence of a girl of sixteen. 
 
 It has been mentioned to her credit, 'that one of her first 
 acts, so soon as she had the means, was to elevate and place in 
 an independent position, her parents. This she had accom- 
 plished. She had purchased a large and valuable farm, and 
 stocked it well with cattle and agricultural implements. Her 
 father had proved an excellent farmer, and iu nine years he 
 had almost doubled its value. 
 
 Clara had a brother and sister named James and Augusta. 
 These children when she left home were respectively six and 
 eight years old. Tie boy James was the eldest. Clara her- 
 self was but fifteen when Mr. Nordheini removed her from her 
 home ; she was twenty-five when she returned thither a widow 
 but oh, to what a different home ! Aud the ucw home wan
 
 VIGOR. 415 
 
 of her own creating. She had sent both brother and sister 
 away from home the one to a Female Academy at Newark, 
 and the other was now a student in Princeton College. James 
 was a handsome, intelligent young fellow, and Augusta was a 
 full grown girl of sixteen, and as handsome as Clara was at 
 that age, and they strongly resembled each other. 
 
 The home to which Clara resorted when she became a widow 
 we will attempt to describe. It was a large mansion, with 
 plenty of out-buildings, many of them erected by Clara's or- 
 ders. In front of the residence was a level lawn, consisting of 
 about twelve asres, and at the edge of this lawn was a fresh 
 water lake of fifty acres, filled with fish of every kind. There 
 was a bridge at the outlet of this lake, and crossing this bridge 
 you drove tor some distance on the main road, passing through 
 fields of corn, grain, clover, and pasture grounds, the latter 
 filled with cows of the b-^st stock. You descended a hill, and 
 then camo to another valley. At the side of the main road at 
 the foot of the hill was a gate which opened into a side private 
 road. This hid to the mansion, which was located about a 
 quarter of a mile from the main road. As you drove to the 
 house by this private road, you passed barns, and carriage, 
 tool, chicken, and cow houses, and then came to two artificial 
 fish ponds. A little farther on was a large spring, ten feet 
 do<-p, surrounded by willows whoso roots helped to strengthen 
 the dam of the spring, over which poured the pure cold water, 
 making a fall of several feet. This water glistening in the 
 sun's rays, was a sight worth seeing. It formed a little brook 
 which meandered through the meadow we have described, and 
 emptied into the lake. 
 
 To the north of the dwelling were large orchards, and in all 
 directions were fruit trees of every description. A hundred 
 white ducks were swimming on the lake, and as many geese 
 sporting in the brook. The garden was well laid out and tilled 
 with rare flowers. The poultry was of choice breeds, and had 
 been selected by Clara in New York. She had also made her 
 purchases of wagons, bridles, harnesses and saddles, and sent 
 them up. In the stables or in the fields were several valuable 
 horses. Nothing was wanting and when the widow reached 
 her home and looked abroad over the beautiful scene from the 
 piazza, and felt that she had created all this, she said to her- 
 self, " Well, well, it' I have been what the world calls bad, I 
 have not lived in vain I have made others happy." Then she 
 tripled d^wri to the large dairy house, which was built of 
 stone, and stood upon one corner of the spring, and drank
 
 416 VIGOR. 
 
 buttermilk, while she looked at the revolving water wheel 
 which was turned by the water from the spring, and churned 
 all the butter made in that dairy. 
 
 She was listening to the music of (he falling water when her 
 lovely sister came down the road with a pail of milk. As she 
 left the dairy, Augusta came and stood by her sister upon the 
 large flat stone by the brook. 
 
 " Dear, darling Clara, how beautiful you look. But what 
 makes you cry do you miss brother ? Oh, he will be here 
 in a few days, and then we will all be so happy. How I should 
 have liked to have seen my brother-in-law Mr. Granville. But 
 he is dead and I, a foolish girl, ask you why you weep. Come, 
 dearest, the spray froui the water will wet you through ; come 
 and. take a stroll down to the lake, and I will unfasten the boat 
 and row you out. I can row the boat as well as brother." 
 
 Clara threw her arms around the waist of the fair speaker, 
 and accompanied her to the lake. There was on it a beautiful 
 boat, which Clara had sent up the year previous ; she entered 
 it, and her sister rowed her into the middle of the lake. Not 
 a wavelet disturbed that mirror of glassy water, so calm and 
 still. Not a sound was heard except the chirping of some 
 bird, or the lowing of some cow. 
 
 The sun had ju.st set. Clara Fat motionless in the boat, and 
 at last she spoke. 
 
 " Dear sister, here ought to be happiness, as there is peace. 
 Oh, I will never leave this pla;e again. I have been in the 
 world seen its hypocrisy, frivolity and heartlessness. Here 
 is home, and true, fond, loving hearts No, I will never leave 
 you more. Now, darling, row the boat ashore, and we will go 
 up to the house. The dew is fulling fast, and I am not yet 
 used to it." 
 
 The fair young sister complied, and they landed, and walked 
 linked in each other's embrace up to the house. There tin; 
 evening meal was ready, and Clara partook of it with a silent 
 happiness she had never known before. 
 
 Few fair girls who have beeu forced into the life that Clara 
 Granville had led for ten years, ever retired from it so success- 
 ful. She was purchased willingly sold herself to better the 
 condition of her parents. She succeeded. There was no phase 
 of the life she adopred that she did not experience. She was 
 the kept mistress. She had her costly appointments in the 
 highest class of assignations, and she lived respectively in 
 brothels No. 1, No. 2. and No. 3, where she was accessible at 
 the regular prices of tho.se establishments. From one of these
 
 YIGOR. 417 
 
 ehe emerged to entrap a young man of good family into mar- 
 riage. From that hour she became virtuous, and when ho left 
 her to roam upon the ocean, and hud his death announced in 
 the public prints, she retired to her home in the country to 
 the bosom of her family, to the respect of her parents, and the 
 love of sister and brother. She owned a beautiful house. She 
 owned property in New York that was rapidly rising in value. 
 She had money in stocks, and she had cash in bank Her 
 beauty was unimpaired. She had acquired accomplishments 
 by hard labor. She could play upon the guitar and the piano, 
 spoke several modern languages, and an ordinary education in 
 other respects. She had read every thing. When she left 
 home she was ignorant of all education. She had educated 
 herself, her brother and her sister. She had redeemed a father 
 and a mother who both drank. 
 
 There is a moral in such a tale as this. We may condemn 
 the means she used to accomplish such great results in her 
 limited circle, but we cannot withhold praise from them. 
 
 Contrast her position with the thousands who sink every year 
 into the gutter and the grave in the great city of New York. 
 Many enter upon the life of a harlot under as favorable aus- 
 pices as Clara Norris did. They are kept by men of wealth, 
 but the foolish, unthinking girl spends what she could save 
 with a lavish hand, and when the lover or keeper becomes cold 
 she has no resource but to take a step down. Again she is the 
 idolized, petted, caressed, and money-making girl in the most 
 aristocratic house of ill-fame. But prudence deserts her here. 
 Money is flung into her lap by handt'uis, and she tosses it out 
 again for dresses and jewelry, and becomes indebted to the 
 principal of the house or landlady until disease or accident 
 sends her down another grade. Here she is equally improvi- 
 dent, and drinks like a fish. There is a lower and a lo\ver 
 deep until she reaches Water street, the Hook, or the Points, 
 and there she has but one step more to take, that is to the 
 alms-house, and from there she is eventually carried in a white 
 pine box to an unknown grave. 
 
 There is hope for the prostitute, but it rests with herself. 
 She is the arbitress of her own destiny. She wields a power 
 she little dreams of. She commences her career with money, 
 She earns it in quantities. Did she but know enough to save 
 it, she could fight the world with its own powerful weapon, 
 tnotiey. The unfortunate girl wiio is forced into such a life for 
 any cause is too apt to be cut oil by her own connexions, UUICMJ 
 
 18*
 
 418 VIGOR. 
 
 her parents or relatives are very poor, so poor that money, 
 earned in any manner, is a balm for disgrace. 
 
 Clara Norris owed her salvation and success to one fact. She 
 went into a life of infamy armed with a holy love for her pa- 
 rents and her brother and sister. She earned and she saved. 
 It was for them, and as money accumulated she became more 
 and more anxious. She bought and paid part she had a mo- 
 tive to pay the rest until sh.e owned property that paid an in- 
 come of itself. Her sin was great, but it was redeeming. She 
 did good to others, and first to her own household. 
 
 When she returned to reside in her parents' home did the 
 finger of scorn point at her from any quarter ? No. She 
 would have shot that man with looks alone that had dared to 
 approach her in her own home with infamous thoughts or pro- 
 posals. Neither was she a hypocrite. To her young and beau- 
 tiful sister she unfolded the secrets of her past life, her mo- 
 tives, and by her conversation, impressed her with the awful 
 sanctity of virtue, and the happiness of a fair girl, whose posi- 
 tion was such, that she need not deviate from its paths, and 
 after the conversation, that younger sister, in her robe of pur- 
 ity and beauty, walked forth Into the green fields and into the 
 wild forests with a character as stern and proud as if contam- 
 ination had never approached the sister she loved, who had 
 sacrificed all she had done for the good of the drunken parents 
 and the poverty struck, uninspected children. Augusta, as she 
 listened to her sister's exposure, loved her dearer than ever. 
 So when James came home, a glorious educated boy, she was 
 his companion, talked freely with him, instructed him against 
 the wiles' of the sex, told him of the power of money, what it 
 had done for all of them, and how it was powerful enough to 
 beat down the darts of scorn from the most respected and re- 
 spectable in society. Mrs. Granviile, at her home, was the 
 perfect lady. She devoted herself to making her sister as ac- 
 complished as herself. She souglitno society ; and slie treated 
 with kindness all those who approached her home with feelings 
 of respect. 
 
 Her brother was armed against the false opinion of the 
 world. The sister installed into his mind the highest ambi- 
 tion. She led him to think that success in the world was noth- 
 ing, and that with books and a home and healthful work he 
 could be far happier than in any other sphere of life. 
 
 " When your father dies the place shall bo yours, and you 
 can make it a paradise. The world may blame me for my own
 
 VIGOR. 419 
 
 life. Conduct yourself properly, and blame will never attach 
 itself to you." 
 
 Such was sister Clara, and she commanded the respect of all 
 in her vicinity. We shall leave her in her country home with 
 every material for future happiness, and nothing to mar it, 
 save it be some unpleasant memories of the past. 
 
 CHAPTER LXYI. 
 
 The Count Falsschins^i dines at Iteltnoiico's with his B other-in-law Pro~ 
 j>ox a that he should be a Merchant -and go into anoint ss with Marion Monck 
 The Count seeks out Morion Tea at Mr. Grasper sTk?. affair or- 
 ranged Marion Mnnrk culls upon Mr. Btnn^t at the A (tor ffottue Air. 
 B-.nntit's opinion of the London Times and Journalism generally. 
 
 DELMONICO'S establishment was at the corner of Beaver and 
 William street, and the Count Ftilsechinski met his brother-in- 
 law Francis Grrasper at the appointed hour, as agreed upon at 
 breakfast. The Count was there in advance of young Grasper, 
 and he occupied his time until the latter arrived in the coffee- 
 room of that famed and still famous establishment. A dinner 
 had been ordered in a private room. When Francis arrived, 
 they both repaired to the room, and soup was soon placed be- 
 fore them. 
 
 " Brother of mine, I don't feel much like dining, and I did 
 not fix upon a dinner as a means of very great enjoyment, but 
 rather as a means of securing your time and attention, while I 
 open to you a plan that I think you will be pleased with," ob- 
 served the Count. 
 
 " I am quite sure, Count, that I shall be pleased with any 
 project you should suggest for my advantage. I know you 
 have my good at heart, and I know you would propose nothing 
 that would not be pleasant to me," said young Grasper. 
 
 " Do not be too sure of that, my amiable brother, but listen 
 to me. The American people must have something to do, if 
 they would be respected. You may be as rich as Croesus, or 
 your father it won't answer for respectable purposes, unless 
 you do something in this country, where people all work. 
 People ask. ' Who is that young man r" They also ask, ' What 
 docs he do ?' To the first question, the reply, ' He is the son 
 of the President of the United States, or of John Smith,' is 
 a; ike unsatisfactory, unless the second is properly answered 
 If the reply to the second should happen to be, ' 0, he does
 
 420 VIGOR. 
 
 nothing,' it is tantamount to saying, ' O, he is a natural born 
 fool, and has got nothing to do, for he is incompetent to do 
 anything.' A man, particularly a young tmin, has no position 
 if he is idle, no matter what his means may be. He had bet- 
 ter open an oyster saloon, a cigar shop, or a penn# milk depot. 
 He must do something. What do you say to that, Francis ? 
 Am 1 not correct ?" asked the Count. 
 
 " You are not only correct, but I have already experienced 
 its truth. Many a time have I been asked, ' What business are 
 you in ?' and when I have replied, 'I am in no business," the 
 question has been repeated in a different form : ' Clerking it 
 yet ?' and when I have said, ' No, I am not a clerk ;' there has 
 been a pause, as though I had insinuated that I lived by petty 
 larceny, or something that was criminal. You are right, 
 Count, I need something to do. What is it you have to pro- 
 pose ?" asked young Grasper. 
 
 " My dear Francis, are you willing to become a lawyer ?" 
 asked the Count. 
 
 " No," replied Francis. 
 
 " A doctor 1" asked the Count. 
 
 " No, no," replied Francis. 
 
 " A parson ?" asked the Count. 
 
 " No, no, no. Worse and worse," replied Francis. 
 
 " Then, my dear fellow, there is only one decent employ- 
 ment left. Will you consent to be a merchant ?" 
 
 " What sort of a merchant a dry goods, shoe store, silks, 
 groceries ?" asked the youth. 
 
 " No none of these. They arc mere shopkeepers, not mer- 
 chants. I mean a merchant in the largest and most extensive 
 meaning of the word. To do a business with foreign ports 
 to export and import cargoes. To sell cargoes, and foreign or 
 domestic produce on commission. To own ships, and send 
 them laden to the ports of the world, and bring back return 
 cargoes. That is the kind of merchant I mean,' 1 said the Count. 
 
 " And that sort of business, Count, would suit me to a 
 nicety. But how am I to get into any such large concern ?" 
 asked young Grasper. 
 
 " You need a partner. Now I have in view a young man 
 like yourself, only several years older. He has no capital, but 
 he has business capacity of the highest order. He is capable 
 of conducting just such a business as I have described," said 
 the Count. 
 
 " What is his name ? Do I know him ?" asked Gasper, Jr. 
 
 44 His name is Marion Monek. He wns for many years in tho
 
 VIGOR. 421 
 
 counting-rooms of Granville & Nordheira. There are very few 
 young men more capable of successfully carrying on a large 
 business than my young friend. He has no capital, but if you 
 think you and he could get along as partners, I will give aim 
 a capital, and there will be no trouble in getting your father to 
 give you a still larger capital," observed the Count. 
 
 Young Grasper reflected a few moments, and then replied, 
 
 " I am perfectly willing to go into such a partnership for 
 the purpose of doing the commercial business you have de- 
 scribed, but I am not at all acquainted with it. Would Mr. 
 Monck be content with such a commercial ignoramus as I 
 should prove to be for a partner," asked Francis Grasper. 
 
 " I have no doubt of it. He would of course understand 
 that you could not regulate business, or conduct it as he could 
 now do. But you would learn in time to do that. I know 
 you possess perseverance, and have nothing to interfere with a 
 devotion to your new business. I thought I would have a free 
 and frank conversation with you before [ said anything definite 
 to my young friend Monck, or to your father. Now if you will 
 say that you would like to try the experiment, I will go to 
 work and complete all the necessary arrangements," said the 
 Count. 
 
 " Then I say at once, go ahead. I am willing to place my- 
 self in your hands, and am really quite anxious to see my part- 
 ner that is to be," said Francis Grasper. 
 
 " Let us finish our dinner, then and go and find Mr. Moack. 
 He has been absent in the South for some time, or I should 
 have proposed this matter to you long ago. He has been back 
 a few weeks. 1 have seen him but two or- three times since," 
 observed the Count. 
 
 The brothers-in-law finished their dinner at Delmonico's, and 
 then went to look after Marion Monck. They went to his 
 boarding-house and to several of his haunts, but did not suc- 
 ceed in finding him while they were in company. At last the 
 Count proposed that young Grasper should leave him, and that 
 Le would seek Marion Monck alone. As soon as Francis had 
 gone home, the Count turned down town, and went to 46 Cen- 
 tre street, and not finding Marion there, he took a seat, and 
 waited. He had not to wait long. The young man he was 
 seeking soon entered, and frankly extending his hand to the 
 Count, observed, 
 
 " Well, Count, I am glad to see you ; for it affords me an 
 opportunity for thanking you for past kindness, and to say, at 
 the same time, that I am obliged to ask you to be more defiuito
 
 422 * VIGOR. 
 
 * 
 
 in the proposal that you have hinted to me. I know you have 
 my interest at heart. I have received a proposal to leave the 
 city and to write letters to a leading newspaper this winter ; 
 so if you have not some thing for me to do, I shall accept it." 
 
 Marion hesitated as he made this communication, but the 
 Count relieved his mind at once. 
 
 " Well, Marion, hear what I have to say, and then decide. 
 I owe you a debt of gratitude that money cannot repay. I 
 know that you are ambitious to get into mercantile business. 
 I have had a plan for this a long time, but I was unable to 
 carry it out until last spring, and then you were gone South 
 before I knew it. I would furnish you with money freely, but 
 I know also that you accept it reluctantly, and I doubt whether 
 you would have done that had you not supposed I was paying 
 to keep you along for purposes of ray own. So I was. N->w 
 let me explain my design. I have a brother-in-law, a fine 
 young fellow his name is Francis Grasper. Did you ever 
 see him," said the Count. 
 
 " Very frequently. I know him by sight, although I have 
 no particular acquaintance with him," replied Marion. 
 
 " I wish to put this young man in business with you. He 
 is intelligent, but inexperienced. What do you say to it ?" 
 asked the Count. 
 
 " How can I go into business ? I have no capital and he 
 would not go into partnership with a young man penniless, 
 like me," said Marion. 
 
 " I am not so sure of that, my young friend, but be that as it 
 may be, I am not going to let you go into business without 
 capital. How much capital would it require to do a safe and 
 successful commission business have you any idea ?" asked 
 the Count. 
 
 " 1 have sir, because it is a subject I have thought deeply 
 about. If I was to go into business, and hud thirty thousand 
 dollars, we could do a smashing business," replied Marion. 
 
 " I hope you will not do a swishing business that would 
 be bad. But seriously. You shall have thirty thousand dol- 
 lars. I will give you ten thousand dollars, and this sum, with 
 your superior business abilities, shall be deemed equal to 
 twenty thousand dollars, which Frank shall put in the concern, 
 or rather his father shall put in for him. Now, sir, consider 
 this matter as arranged. Does it meet your views ?" asked 
 the Count. 
 
 " I can hardly speak, Count I do not know what to say. 
 Yet if you think I shall uot disappoint your expectations, I
 
 VIGOR. 423 
 
 will cheerfully enter into a partnership so much to my benefit, 
 and I will do the best I can. My whole soul shall be in the 
 work," observed Marion Monk, very earnestly. 
 
 " My dear boy, I do not doubt it for a moment. You will 
 succeed, I am sure ; but if you do not, it will not be a great 
 loss to any one but yourself. I can afford to lose ten times ten 
 thousand dollars, and not feel it ; and even if you do not suc- 
 ceed, old Mr. Grasper would pay willingly that sum to see his 
 eon in business with a good partner. Is it a bargain ?" asked 
 the Count. 
 
 " Decidedly, so far as I am concerned," said Marion. 
 
 " Then you must go up with me to Mr. Grasper's. Francis 
 has been hunting with me for you for several hours, and went 
 home expecting you would come up as soon as I found you." 
 
 " But, my dear Count, I am not exactly fit for a visit," said 
 Marion. 
 
 " Bah ! Come with me and make no apologies. You will 
 be welcome. We go to talk business, and not to a dress ball. 
 Come along." 
 
 Thus urged by the Count, Marion made no further refusal, 
 but walked up to the grand palace of the Count's father-in-law. 
 
 " Is Mr Francis Grasper in ?" was his first inquiry, after 
 they reached the house. 
 
 " He is sir," replied the servant ; and followed by Marion, 
 the Count passed into the parlor, where the object of their 
 search was seated by one of the windows. He received Ma- 
 rion in the most cordial manner. 
 
 " I will leave you two young gpntlemen to get acquainted. 
 Francis, I have agreed to give Marion Monck ten thousand dol- 
 lars. You don't know quite as much about business as he does, 
 and so your worthy father must make it up by giving you twice 
 that amount. I will go and see him. Make Marion remain to 
 tea. I wish to introduce him to the senior Mr. Grasper." 
 
 With these words the Count passed out of the apartment to 
 an office, where he found his father-in-law. To him the Count 
 explained his plans. They were at once cordially embraced 
 by the old financier. At the tea-table, Marion Monck was in- 
 troduced to the old gentleman, and to the rest of the family. 
 All were pleased, and ere he left, he had made an appointment 
 to meet young Grasper early in the morning, to arrange fur- 
 ther matters in reference to the new commercial establishment. 
 
 When he left the house of Mr. Grasper it seemed to Marion 
 that all must be a dream. He could hardly realize the fact 
 that from being almost without a dollar in a few days he would
 
 424 VIGOR. 
 
 be a partner of a "firm" worth thirty thousand dollars. " But 
 I must not forget old friends while I am making new ones, and 
 I will call upon Mr. Bennett on my way down and decline hi 3" 
 kind offer." With this intention he stopped at the " Astor." 
 The editor of the Herald had recently married, and with his 
 young bride was stopping at the Astor House. Marion Monclc 
 called to pay his respects and express his good wishes for the 
 happiness of the new-married pair, and to decline the offer of 
 going to Washington. He was introduced to Mrs. Bennett, 
 and enjoyed a pleasant chat with the fair dame. Other visitors 
 entered and 'Occupied the attention of the lady, and Marion had 
 Mr. Bennett to himself. He thanked the editor for his kind- 
 ness, and for his fair offers for the future, but added : " I have 
 been so long an apprentice to commerce that I have no ainbition 
 to succeed as a writer. I have had an offer to go into partner- 
 ship under very favorable auspices. My partner has capital 
 and connexions, and is a very amiable young man." 
 
 "I certainly wish you success; but I have my fears. I 
 think that there is a great uncertainty about a merchant's suc- 
 cess, and the day may come when you will regret not having 
 made up your mind to connect yourself permanently with the 
 business of journalism," said Mr. Bennett. 
 
 " It may be so ; but the position of a merchant is much more 
 creditable than even that of a newspaper writer," was Marion's 
 reply. 
 
 11 Simply because the position and power of the pen is not 
 yet properly appreciated. What is his power in the world 
 who can merely count that two and two are four, and that twice 
 four are eight, and goes on to make or lose money on that 
 basis who knows how to eat, drink and sleep, and carry on a 
 routine business when placed in comparison with the man 
 who writes articles that are read and will tell upon the minds 
 of thousands ? of a man who can make public opinion, or who 
 can direct it, where it does exis-t, into healthful channels ? 
 Such a man in reality should hold a far higher position than 
 the so-called merchant or successful shop-keeper. Look at the 
 circulation of the Herald. It issues over ten thousand copies, 
 and is read by at least one hundred thousand persons. Yet it 
 has,only commenced its existence. I will increase its circu- 
 lation to ten times what it now is, before many years are 
 passed; and it will command an influence upon this continent 
 equal, if uot superior to what the London Times iiow dyes in 
 Europe. Few people understand the true theory of journal- 
 ism. J ain but a pupil in it. When I started the Herald I
 
 VIGOR. 425 
 
 thought I had no more to learn. Every day convinces me 
 that I do not even now know anything. Not a day passes but 
 I acquire some new knowledge of my profession, and I suppose 
 I shall continue to learn as long as I live." 
 
 Marion made no reply for some time to a prophecy uttered 
 by the editor, for he did not then appreciate its force. He 
 asked a question : " How can you make the Herald as success- 
 ful as the London Times 1 That paper is a stock concern, and 
 is very rich." 
 
 " It was started and placed on its present footing by the 
 mind of one man John Walters. He stocked it that is true 
 but he divided the stock among his own family, and the 
 income is enormous. The family, or the stock-holders, rarclv 
 interfere with the course of the Times. It is edited by a man 
 who never writes a line for its columns, while he superintends 
 the matter for the paper, and rejects or admits the editorials 
 written by the most powerful writers in England," said Mr. 
 Bennett. 
 
 " Why does not the powerful editor write himself?" asked 
 Marion, with some curiosity. 
 
 " Simply that it is human nature for a writer to harp upon 
 one subject too long. He runs it.into the ground. An editor 
 who is a clever, judicious man, and who docs not write him- 
 self, becomes impatient with the writings of others. He has 
 no hobby of his own, and his rejections of articles from the 
 pens of the principal writers give no offence and excite no dis- 
 affection, because there is evidently no jealousy on the part of 
 the chief editor. His decisions are wise and prudent ones. 
 Before I leave the Herald, it shall be equally well and firmly 
 established, so that when I die it can walk along alone to fulfil 
 its destiny. Now you try merchandising, Marion, but mark 
 my words, you will not succeed, and when you get sick of your 
 mercantile ambition come back to me. You have talent, and 
 will succeed as a newspaper writer. It has been my opinion 
 for years. I have tried to develope the genius you possess, 
 and I have at least made you aware of the fact that you do pos- 
 sess it. Some day it will come out, and I hold it to be a great 
 pity that you do not commence at once, instead of wasting 
 your lime in the shipping or any other commercial business. 
 See who is right in the long run." Thus spoke Mr. Bennett, 
 and his words sown there produced fruit in after years, but not 
 until a long scries of mercantile losses and disasters had mide 
 Marion Monek sensible that the editor was right. 
 
 Marion left ''m that evening with feelings of the truest re-
 
 426 VIGOR. 
 
 spect and esteem, and wa almost convinced that the best 
 course he could pursue would be to refuse the kind offer of the 
 Count Falsechinski. But 
 
 " There is a destiny that shapes our ends, 
 Rough hew them as we may." 
 
 Marion's destiny seemed to be a merchant's life. 
 
 CHAPTER LXYII. 
 
 The Conclusion. 
 
 THE lady who has figured in these pages as Mrs. Woodruff, 
 continued in her business, respected by those who did not 
 know her well, and retained her standing in society, and in 
 the religious community into which her unparalleled impu- 
 dence had forced her. 
 
 Her establishment was the most choice and the most distin- 
 guished of any in the city of New York. It had no equal. Her 
 management was such that she never came in contact with the 
 authorities, and she had among her acquaintances and friends, 
 many persons high in official power and influence, who would 
 have protected her from harm had complaints ever been made 
 against her. Such was never the case, however and now 
 that years have passed, she is still as flourishing as ever. 
 
 We must now return to Marion and the Count. The meet- 
 ing between Marion and Francis Grayper was satisfactory to 
 both and after several days, the basis of their partnership 
 had been arranged to their mutual satisfaction. Of course it 
 was equally satisfactory to their respective friends. Mr. Wil- 
 son had been consulted by Marion, and his advice was of 
 great service to the new beginners as merchants on their own 
 hook. 
 
 The Count Falsechinski paid in a cash capital often thous- 
 and dollars for Marion Monck, and Mr. Grasper paid in the 
 sum of twenty thousand dollars for his son. This was the cash 
 capital of ' Monck & Grasper," and on the first day of January, 
 18 , they commenced a general commission and commercial 
 business. Their office and counting-room was in Broad, near 
 Beaver street. 
 
 No young House ever started under more favorable auspi- 
 ces they had a sufficient cash capital, and thanks to the elder 
 Grasper, who wrote to all his business correspondents in dif-
 
 VIGOR. 427 
 
 ferent pnrts of the Slates and in Europe, they formed commer- 
 cial connections of the strongest kind. 
 
 The Count had determined to leave New York with his wife 
 immediately after Francis and Marion had commenced busi- 
 ness. It was further decided that young Grasper should ac- 
 company them, and after his arrival that he should visit the 
 principal ports in Europe, and endeavor to secure business to 
 the New York firm of Monck & Grasper. This plan fully met 
 the views of his partner, and also was approved by the senior 
 Grasper. Old Mr. Prime was consulted, and consented to 
 become one of the references of the firm. 
 
 Our history will now leave Marion Monck settled firmly in 
 his seat as a merchant in New York He had been through a 
 great variety of good and evil fortune, and had withstood the 
 temptation of both. He was twenty-five years old ambitious, 
 energetic, and determined. He had a good share of commer- 
 cial experience enough to justify his taking the charge of a 
 commercial house. One of his most valuable counsellors was 
 Mr. Wilson, who came daily to the counting-room of his young 
 friend Marion. 
 
 After the departure of the Count Falsechinski, his wife, and 
 Francis Grnsper, the old Mr. Grasper never failed to call and 
 see how the young Marion Monck, his son's partner, was suc- 
 ceeding. 
 
 We shall not continue the history of our hero beyond this 
 point ; he had succeeded in establishing himself as a mer- 
 chant, and that is the second of the four great epochs of every 
 man's life. 
 
 The other characters in this work have all been fairly dis- 
 posed of and in tracing out their various careers, a deeply 
 impressive moral may be drawn in each case. 
 
 Colonel Benson and his lady were in the enjoyment of all 
 those blessings which wealth confers, induced by a fair and 
 easy conscience. 
 
 Middleton Benson was a steady, prosperous 1 , and prudent 
 merchant. His wife, Isabella Granville that was, became de- 
 voted to him, an excellent mother to the children, and quite a 
 domestic woman in her way. No tidings had ever reached 
 ner of her brother, since his death had been announced in 
 tiie newspapers. 
 
 The old gentleman Pitt Granville continued to be busy about 
 his affairs, and an inmate of the Asylum at 'Bloomingdaie, 
 where he could receive medical treatment when hia quiet fits 
 of insanity made their appearance.
 
 428 VIGOR. 
 
 From his parents Mai ion Monck hoard frequently. They 
 lived on in their quiet Southern home, glad to hear of his 
 success in getting into business, but profoundly ignorant of its 
 advantages. His aunt Mary had'become a very scientific wo- 
 man, and frequently wrote to her nephew on such subjects 
 although he would have valued her letters more had they quo- 
 ted the price of Sea Island or upland cotton. 
 
 Mrs. Tom Granville resided in Baltimore, and rarely troub-' 
 led her head about the Granville relations. She was divorced 
 from Tom by a double divorce the Maryland Legislature was 
 the author of one, and grim Death of the second. She called 
 herself a widow, and spent a great portion of her time in the 
 city of Washington, where she was one of the most influential 
 politicians. A bill could be got through both houses of Con- 
 gress with more ease with her aid than without it consequently 
 she became a very popular and a very useful woman in legis- 
 lative affairs. 
 
 Old Josiah Cubson, the laughing Englishman, settled on 
 Staten Island, and became the father of a baker's dozen of 
 daughters. 
 
 The widow Gaillard, after her husband's death remained in 
 South Carolina with her mother-in-law, devoting her*lf to the 
 education of her son. Her father, Colonel Benson, visited 
 her occasionally. 
 
 The two Peruvian girls, with whom Marion Monck was a 
 great favorite, returned to Peru, where they married revolu- 
 tionary generals and as their husbands were shot within a 
 year after their respective marriages, they became widows. 
 
 Forty-six Centre street was broken up by the death of its 
 proprietor, and is now a second-hand furniture store. Jemmy 
 the bar-keeper got a situation on the Police. 
 
 Of the descendant of the old Dutchman Van Hagen we havo 
 given a full narrative up to the hour when we leave him a 
 merchant in New York, where he must " do or die." 
 
 Their subsequent career must be the subject of a future 
 volume, should it ever be written* 
 
 THE END
 
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