CONCLUSION
Felicie reflected over Harold's dishonest suggestion, and concluded to
adopt it. She meant to charge Harold with the second robbery, and to
brazen it out if necessary. Accordingly, one day she stole into Mrs.
Merton's sitting room, and with the keys supplied by Harold succeeded
in opening the drawer. Inside, greatly to her surprise, she saw the
identical pocketbook which it had been understood was taken at the
time of the first robbery. She was holding it in her hand, when a
slight noise led her to look up swiftly.
To her dismay she saw the old lady, whom she had supposed out of the
house, regarding her sternly.
"What does this mean, Felicie?" demanded Mrs. Merton.
"I--I found these keys and was trying them to see if any of them had
been used at the time your money was stolen."
"Do you know who took my money on that occasion?" continued the old
lady.
"Yes, I do," answered Felicie, swiftly deciding to tell the truth.
"Who was it?"
"Your nephew Harold," answered Felicie, glibly.
"You know this?"
"I saw him open the drawer. I was looking through a crack of the
door."
"And you never told me of this?"
"I didn't want to expose him. He begged me not to do so."
"That is singular. He warned me yesterday that he suspected you of
being the thief, and that he had reason to think you were planning a
second robbery."
"He did?" said Felicie, with flashing eyes.
"Yes; what have you to say to it?"
"That he put me up to it, and gave me these keys to help me in doing
it. Of course, he expected to share the money."
This last statement was untrue, but Felicie was determined to be
revenged upon her treacherous ally.
"And you accepted?"
"Yes," said Felicie, seeing no way of escape. "I am poor, and thought
you wouldn't miss the money."
"My nephew accused Luke Walton of being the thief."
"It is untrue. He wanted to divert suspicion from himself. Besides, he
hates Luke."
"Do you?"
"No; I think him much better than Harold."
"So do I. Where did my nephew get his gold watch?"
"It was bought with the money he stole from the drawer."
"So I supposed. Well, Felicie, you can go, but I think you had better
hand me that bunch of keys."
"Shall you report me to Mrs. Tracy?"
"I have not decided. For the present we will both keep this matter
secret."
Luke's absence was, of course, noticed by Mrs. Tracy.
"Have you discharged Luke Walton?" she asked, hopefully. "I observe he
has not come here for the last two or three days."
"He has gone out of the city--on business."
"I am surprised that you should trust that boy to such an extent."
At this moment a telegraph messenger rang the bell, and a telegram was
brought up to Mrs. Merton.
It ran thus:
To MRS. MERTON, ---- Prairie Avenue, Chicago:
I have recovered all my mother's money with interest. Mr. Powell is
also successful. Will return this evening.
LUKE WALTON,
"Read it if you like, Louisa," said the old lady, smiling with
satisfaction.
"What does it mean?"
"That Luke has recovered over ten thousand dollars, of which his
mother had been defrauded. It was Warner who put him on the track of
the man who wrongfully held the money."
"Indeed!" said Mrs. Tracy, spitefully. "Then the least he can do is to
return the money he took from you."
"He never took any, Louisa."
"Who did, then?"
"Your son, Harold."
"Who has been telling lies about my poor boy?" exclaimed Mrs. Tracy,
angrily.
"A person who saw him unlocking the drawer."
"Has Luke Walton been telling falsehoods about my son?"
"No; it was quite another person. I have other proof also, and have
known for some time who the real thief was. If Harold claims that I
have done him injustice, send him to me."
After an interview with Harold, Mrs. Tracy was obliged to believe,
much against her will, that he was the guilty one and not the boy she
so much detested. This did not prepossess her any more in favor of
Luke Walton, whom she regarded as the rival and enemy of her son.
It was a joyful coming home for Luke. He removed at once to a nice
neighborhood, and ceased to be a Chicago newsboy. He did not lose the
friendship of Mrs. Merton, who is understood to have put him down for
a large legacy in her will, and still employs him to transact much of
her business. Next year she proposes to establish her nephew, Warner
Powell, and Luke in a commission business, under the style of
POWELL & WALTON
she furnishing the capital.
The house on Prairie Avenue is closed. Mrs. Tracy is married again, to
a man whose intemperate habits promise her little happiness. Harold
seems unwilling to settle down to business, but has developed a taste
for dress and the amusements of a young man about town. He thinks he
will eventually be provided for by Mrs. Merton, but in this he will be
mistaken, as she has decided to leave much the larger part of her
wealth to charitable institutions after remembering her nephew, Warner
Powell, handsomely.
Ambrose Kean never repeated the mistake he had made. Still more, by
diligent economy he saved up the sum advanced him by Mrs. Merton, and
he offered it to her. She accepted it, but returned it many times over
to his mother. Her patronage brought him another advantage; it led his
employer to increase his salary, which is now double that which he
formerly received.
Felicie lost her position, but speedily secured another, where it is
to be hoped she will be more circumspect in her conduct.
Thomas Browning, after all, lost the nomination which he craved--and
much of his wealth is gone. He dabbled in foolish speculation, and is
now comparatively a poor man. Through the agency of Jack King, the
story of his breach of trust was whispered about, and the sham
philanthropist is better understood and less respected by his
fellow-citizens.
His nephew, Stephen Webb, has been obliged to buckle down to hard work
at ten dollars a week, and feels that his path is indeed thorny.
Luke Walton is not puffed up by his unexpected and remarkable success.
He never fails to recognize kindly, and help, if there is need, the
old associates of his humbler days, and never tries to conceal the
fact that he was once a Chicago newsboy.
THE END.
[Graphic decoration: Cherub with tethered birds (upside down)]
WHITE HOUSE INCIDENTS.
Trying the "Greens" on Jake.
A deputation of bankers were one day introduced to the President by
the Secretary of the Treasury. One of the party, Mr. P---- of Chelsea,
Mass., took occasion to refer to the severity of the tax laid by
Congress upon State Banks.
"Now," said Mr. Lincoln, "that reminds me of a circumstance that took
place in a neighborhood where I lived when I was a boy. In the spring
of the year the farmers were very fond of a dish which they called
greens, though the fashionable name for it now-a-days is spinach, I
believe. One day after dinner, a large family were taken very ill. The
doctor was called in, who attributed it to the greens, of which all
had frequently partaken. Living in the family was a half-witted boy
named Jake. On a subsequent occasion, when greens had been gathered
for dinner, the head of the house said:
"'Now, boys, before running any further risk in this thing, we will
first try them on Jake, If he stands it, we are all right.'
"And just so, I suppose," said Mr. Lincoln, "Congress thought it would
try this tax on State Banks!"
A Story Which Lincoln Told the Preachers.
A year or more before Mr. Lincoln's death, a delegation of clergymen
waited upon him in reference to the appointment of the army chaplains
The delegation consisted of a Presbyterian, a Baptist, and an
Episcopal clergyman. They stated that the character of many of the
chaplains was notoriously bad, and they had come to urge upon the
President the necessity of more discretion in these appointments.
"But, gentlemen," said the President, "that is a matter which the
Government has nothing to do with; the chaplains are chosen by the
regiments."
Not satisfied with this, the clergymen pressed, in turn, a change in
the system. Mr. Lincoln heard them through without remark, and then
said, "Without any disrespect, gentlemen, I will tell you a 'little
story.'
"Once, in Springfield, I was going off on a short journey, and reached
the depot a little ahead of time. Leaning against the fence just
outside the depot was a little darkey boy, whom I knew, named 'Dick,'
busily digging with his toe in a mud-puddle. As I came up, I said,
'Dick, what are you about?'
"'Making a church,' said he.
"'A church,' said I; 'what do you mean?'
"'Why, yes,' said Dick, pointing with his toe, 'don't you see there is
the shape of it; there's the steps and front door--here the pews,
where the folks set--and there's the pulpit.
"Yes, I see,' said I; 'but why don't you make a minister?
"'Laws,' answered Dick, with a grin, 'I hain't got mud enough.'"
How Lincoln Stood Up for the Word "Sugar-Coated."
Mr. Defrees, the Government printer, states, that, when one of the
President's message was being printed, he was a good deal disturbed by
the use of the term "sugar-coated," and finally went to Mr. Lincoln
about it. Their relations to each other being of the most intimate
character, he told the President frankly, that he ought to remember
that a message to Congress was a different affair from a speech at a
mass meeting in Illinois; that the messages became a part of history,
and should be written accordingly.
"What is the matter now?" inquired the President.
"Why," said Mr. Defrees, "you have used an undignified expression in
the message;" and then, reading the paragraph aloud, he added, I would
alter the structure of that if I were you."
"Defrees," replied Mr. Lincoln, "that word expresses exactly my idea,
and I am not going to change it. The time will never come in this
country when the people won't know exactly what 'sugar-coated' means."
On a subsequent occasion, Mr. Defrees states that a certain sentence
of another message was very awkwardly constructed. Calling the
President's attention to it in the proof-copy, the latter acknowledged
the force of the objection raised, and said, "Go home, Defrees, and
see if you can better it."
The next day Mr. Defrees took into him his amendment. Mr. Lincoln met
him by saying:
"Seward found the same fault that you did, and he has been rewriting
the paragraph, also." Then, reading Mr. Defrees' version, he said, "I
believe you have beaten Seward; but, 'I jings,' I think I can beat you
both." Then, taking up his pen, he wrote the sentence as it was
finally printed.
Lincoln's Advice to a Prominent Bachelor.
Upon the betrothal of the Prince of Wales to the Princess Alexandra,
Queen Victoria sent a letter to each of the European sovereigns, and
also to President Lincoln, announcing the fact. Lord Lyons, her
ambassador at Washington,--a "bachelor," by the way,--requested an
audience of Mr. Lincoln, that he might present this important document
in person. At the time appointed he was received at the White House,
in company with Mr. Seward.
"May it please your Excellency," said Lord Lyons, "I hold in my hand
an autograph letter from my royal mistress, Queen Victoria, which I
have been commanded to present to your Excellency. In it she informs
your Excellency that her son, his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales,
is about to contract a matrimonial alliance with her Royal Highness
the Princess Alexandra of Denmark."
After continuing in this strain for a few minutes, Lord Lyons tendered
the letter to the President and awaited his reply. It was short,
simple, and expressive, and consisted simply of the words:
"Lord Lyons, go thou and do likewise."
It is doubtful if an English ambassador was ever addressed in this
manner before, and it would be interesting to learn what success he
met with in putting the reply in diplomatic language when he reported
it to her Majesty.
[Illustration of carriage on forested road.]
Mr. Lincoln and the Bashful Boys.
The President and a friend were standing upon the threshold of the
door under the portico of the White House, awaiting the coachman, when
a letter was put into his hand. While he was reading this, people were
passing, as is customary, up and down the promenade, which leads
through the grounds of the War Department, crossing, of course, the
portico. Attention was attracted to an approaching party, apparently a
countryman, plainly dressed, with his wife and two little boys, who
had evidently been straying about, looking at the places of public
interest in the city. As they reached the portico the father, who was
in advance, caught sight of the tall figure of Mr. Lincoln, absorbed
in his letter. His wife and the little boys were ascending the steps.
The man stopped suddenly, put out his hand with a "hush" to his
family, and, after a moment's gaze, he bent down and whispered to
them, "There is the President!" Then leaving them, he slowly made a
circuit around Mr. Lincoln, watching him intently all the while.
At this point, having finished his letter, the President turned and
said: "Well, we will not wait any longer for the carriage; it won't
hurt you and me to walk down."
The countryman here approached very diffidently, and asked if he might
be allowed to take the President by the hand; after which, "Would he
extend the same privilege to his wife and little boys?"
Mr. Lincoln, good-naturedly, approached the latter, who had remained
where they were stopped, and, reaching down, said a kind word to the
bashful little fellows, who shrank close up to their mother, and did
not reply. This simple act filled the father's cup full.
"The Lord is with you, Mr. President," he said, reverently; and then,
hesitating a moment, he added, with strong emphasis, "and the people,
too, sir; and the people, too!"
A few moments later Mr. Lincoln remarked to his friend: "Great men
have various estimates. When Daniel Webster made his tour through the
West years ago, he visited Springfield among other places, where great
preparations had been made to receive him. As the procession was going
through the town, a barefooted little darkey boy pulled the sleeve of
a man named T., and asked:
"'What the folks were all doing down the street?'
"'Why, Jack,' was the reply, 'the biggest man in the world is
coming.'
"Now, there lived in Springfield a man by the name of G----, a very
corpulent man. Jack darted off down the street, but presently
returned, with a very disappointed air.
"'Well, did you see him?' inquired T.
"'Yees,' returned Jack; 'but laws, he ain't half as big as old G.'."
An Irish Soldier Who Wanted Something Stronger Than Soda Water.
Upon Mr. Lincoln's return to Washington, after the capture of
Richmond, a member of the Cabinet asked him if it would be proper to
permit Jacob Thompson to slip through Maine in disguise, and embark
from Portland. The President, as usual, was disposed to be merciful,
and to permit the arch-rebel to pass unmolested, but the Secretary
urged that he should be arrested as a traitor. "By permitting him to
escape the penalties of treason," persistently remarked the Secretary,
"you sanction it." "Well," replied Mr. Lincoln, "let me tell you a
story.
"There was an Irish soldier here last summer, who wanted something to
drink stronger than water, and stopped at a drug-shop, where he espied
a soda-fountain.
"'Mr. Doctor' said he, 'give me, plase, a glass of soda wather, an' if
yees can put in a few drops of whisky unbeknown to any one, I'll be
obleeged.'
"Now," said Mr. Lincoln, "if Jake Thompson is permitted to go through
Maine unbeknown to any one, what's the harm? So don't have him
arrested."
Looking Out for Breakers.
In a time of despondency, some visitors were telling the President of
the "breakers" so often seen ahead--"this time surely coming."
"That," said he, "suggests the story of the school-boy, who never
could pronounce the names 'Shadrach,' 'Meshach,' and 'Abednego.' He
had been repeatedly whipped for it without effect. Some times
afterwards he saw the names of the regular lesson for the day. Putting
his finger upon the place, he turned to his next neighbor, an older
boy, and whispered, 'Here comes those "tormented Hebrews" again!'"
A Story About Jack Chase.
A farmer from one of the border counties went to the President on a
certain occasion with the complaint that the Union soldiers in passing
his farm had helped themselves not only to hay but to his horse; and
he hoped the proper officer would be required to consider his claim
immediately.
"Why, my good sir," replied Mr. Lincoln, "if I should attempt to
consider every such individual case, I should find work enough for
twenty Presidents!
"In my early days I knew one Jack Chase who was a lumberman on the
Illinois, and when steady and sober the best raftsman on the river. It
was quite a trick twenty-five years ago to take the logs over the
rapids, but he was skillful with a raft, and always kept her straight
in the channel. Finally a steamer was put on, and Jack--he's dead now,
poor fellow!--was made captain of her. He always used to take the
wheel going through the rapids. One day when the boat was plunging and
wallowing along the boiling current, and Jack's utmost vigilance was
being exercised to keep her in the narrow channel, a boy pulled his
coat-tail and hailed him with: Say, Mister Captain! I wish you would
just stop your boat a minute--I've lost an apple overboard!"
Stories Illustrating Lincoln's Memory.
Mr. Lincoln's memory was very remarkable. At one of the afternoon
receptions at the White House a stranger shook hands with him, and as
he did so remarked, casually, that he was elected to Congress about
the time Mr. Lincoln's term as representative expired, which happened
many years before.
"Yes," said the President, "you are from," mentioning the state. "I
remember reading of your election in a newspaper one morning on a
steamboat going down to Mount Vernon."
At another time a gentleman addressed him, saying, "I presume, Mr.
President, you have forgotten me?"
"No," was the prompt reply; "your name is Flood. I saw you last,
twelve years ago at ----," naming the place and the occasion. "I am
glad to see," he continued, "that the Flood flows on,"
Subsequent to his re-election a deputation of bankers from various
sections were introduced one day by the Secretary of the Treasury.
After a few moments of general conversation, Mr. Lincoln turned to one
of them and said: "Your district did not give me so strong a vote at
the last election as it did in 1860."
"I think, sir, that you must be mistaken," replied the banker. "I
have the impression that your majority was considerably increased at
the last election,"
"No," rejoined the President, "you fell off about six hundred votes."
Then taking down from the bookcase the official canvass of 1860 and
1864 he referred to the vote or the district named and proved to be
quite right in his assertion.
Philosophy of Canes.
A gentleman calling at the White House one evening carried a cane
which in the course of conversation attracted the President's
attention. Taking it in his hand he said: "I always used a cane when I
was a boy. It was a freak of mine. My favorite one was a knotted beech
stick, and I carved the head myself. There's a mighty amount of
character in sticks. Don't you think so? You have seen these
fishing-polls that fit into a cane? Well, that was an old idea of
mine. Dogwood clubs were favorite ones with the boys. I suppose they
use them yet. Hickory is too heavy, unless you get it from a young
sapling. Have you ever noticed how a stick in one's hand will change
his appearance? Old women and witches wouldn't look so without sticks.
Meg Merrilies understands that."
Common Sense.
The Hon. Mr. Hubbard, of Connecticut, once called upon the President
in reference to a newly invented gun, concerning which a committee had
been appointed to make a report.
The "report" was sent for, and when it came in was found to be of the
most voluminous description. Mr. Lincoln glanced at it and said: "I
should want a new lease of life to read this through!" Throwing it
down upon the table he added: "Why can't a committee of this kind
occasionally exhibit a grain of common sense? If I send a man to buy a
horse for me, I expect him to tell me his points--not how many hairs
there are in his tail."
Lincoln's Confab with a Committee on "Grant's Whisky."
Just previous to the fall of Vicksburg a self-constituted committee,
solicitous for the _morale_ of our armies, took it upon themselves to
visit the President and urge the removal of General Grant.
In some surprise Mr. Lincoln inquired, "For what reason?"
"Why," replied the spokesman, "he drinks too much whisky."
"Ah!" rejoined Mr. Lincoln, dropping his lower lip. "By the way,
gentlemen, can either of you tell me where General Grant procures his
whisky? because, if I can find out, I will send every general in the
field a barrel of it!"
A "Pretty Tolerable Respectable Sort of a Clergyman."
Some one was discussing in the presence of Mr. Lincoln the character
of a time-serving Washington clergyman. Said Mr. Lincoln to his
visitor:
"I think you are rather hard upon Mr. ----. He reminds me of a man in
Illinois, who was tried for passing a counterfeit bill. It was in
evidence that before passing it he had taken it to the cashier of a
bank and asked his opinion of the bill, and he received a very prompt
reply that it was a counterfeit. His lawyer, who had heard the
evidence to be brought against his client, asked him just before going
into court, 'Did you take the bill to the cashier of the bank and ask
him if it was good?'
"'I did,' was the reply,
"'Well, what was the reply of the cashier?'
"The rascal was in a corner, but he got out of it in this fashion: 'He
said it was a pretty tolerable, respectable sort of a bill.'" Mr.
Lincoln thought the clergyman was "a pretty tolerable, respectable
sort of a clergyman."
Opened His Eyes.
Mr. Lincoln sometimes had a very effective way of dealing with men who
troubled him with questions. A visitor once asked him how many men the
Rebels had in the field.
The President replied, very seriously, "_Twelve hundred thousand,
according to the best authority._"
The interrogator blanched in the face, and ejaculated, "_Good
Heavens!_"
"Yes, sir, twelve hundred thousand--no doubt of it. You see, all of
our generals, when they get whipped, say the enemy outnumbers them
from three or five to one, and I must believe them. We have four
hundred thousand men in the field, and three times four makes twelve.
Don't you see it?"
Minnehaha and Minneboohoo!
Some gentlemen fresh from a Western tour, during a call at the White
House, referred in the course of conversation to a body of water in
Nebraska, which bore an Indian name signifying "weeping water." Mr.
Lincoln instantly responded: "As 'laughing water,' according to Mr.
Longfellow, is 'Minnehaha,' this evidently should be 'Minneboohoo.'"
Lincoln and the Artist.
F. B. Carpenter, the celebrated artist and author of the well-known
painting of Lincoln and his Cabinet issuing the Emancipation
Proclamation, describes his first meeting with the President, as
follows:
"Two o'clock found me one of the throng pressing toward the center of
attraction, the blue room. From the threshold of the crimson parlor as
I passed, I had a glimpse of the gaunt figure of Mr. Lincoln in the
distance, haggard-looking, dressed in black, relieved only by the
prescribed white gloves; standing, it seemed to me, solitary and
alone, though surrounded by the crowd, bending low now and then in the
process of hand-shaking, and responding half abstractedly to the
well-meant greetings of the miscellaneous assemblage.
"Never shall I forget the electric thrill which went through my whole
being at this instant. I seemed to see lines radiating from every part
of the globe, converging to a focus where that plain, awkward-looking
man stood, and to hear in spirit a million prayers, 'as the sound of
many waters,' ascending in his behalf.
"Mingled with supplication I could discern a clear symphony of triumph
and blessing, swelled with an ever-increasing volume. It was the voice
of those who had been bondmen and bondwomen, and the grand diapason
swept up from the coming ages.
"It was soon my privilege in the regular succession, to take that
honored hand. Accompanying the act, my name and profession were
announced to him in a low tone by one of the assistant secretaries,
who stood by his side.
"Retaining my hand, he looked at me inquiringly for an instant, and
said, Oh, yes; I know; this is the painter. Then straightening himself
to his full height, with a twinkle of the eye, he added, playfully,
'Do you think, Mr. C----, that you could make a handsome picture of
_me?_' emphasizing strongly the last word.
"Somewhat confused at this point-blank shot, uttered in a voice so
loud as to attract the attention of those in immediate proximity, I
made a random reply, and took the occasion to ask if I could see him
in his study at the close of the reception.
"To this he replied in the peculiar vernacular of the West, 'I
reckon,' resuming meanwhile the mechanical and traditional exercise of
the hand which no President has ever yet been able to avoid, and
which, severe as is the ordeal, is likely to attach to the position so
long as the Republic endures."
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