Clarence Bolton
page: (TitlePage) [View Page (TitlePage) ]CLARENCE BOLTON: 'NEW YORK STORY WITH CITY SOCIETY IN ALL ITS PHASES. Br JOS. A,. SC OVILLE,1 EsQ. NEW YORK: GARRETT & CO., 22 AN4N S-T1 ET. 1852. ~i .~ I i I page: Table of Contents[View Page Table of Contents] CONTENTS OF CLARENCE BOLTON, CHAPTER I.-Introduction-New York, its early history-our Dutch ancestors-Plate, scene on the ferry, boat-Clarence Bolton and his dog Beppo-Mr. Goxild and family-Fanny Gould interested with Bppo-Aeident to Fanny-Clarence leaps in the water to her rescue-Con- versation in the water-TryingSdene-Plate, Beppo with Fanny-Clarence, with his charge, reaches the shore of Governor's IMland in safety-They cross to Castle Garden-Plate, scene on the bridge-Clarence indignant at conduct of Mr. Gould-Fanny affected. 1I.-The descendants of English and Huguenot families-The mongrel class-Early career of Mr. Gouljl-Poor-house-Sale of the Poor-Horsler-Going into business-Marriage. I.-Manhattan Island-Residence of Madame Clarin-Return home of'Clarence and Beppo- Relation of his adventures with Fanny-History of Madam Clarin's family-Their n- tance with Edward Bolton, Clarence's father-Courtship and Marriage of Edward lton aend Julie Clarin. IV.-HappinessofEdward and Julie Bolton-Accidents follow-Sickness and Imprisonment of Edward-His release-Edward killed-Julie's relation to her son Clarence of the past history of her family, .in which are sta ted the inAmous designs of Mr, Wolf-The means he used to accomplish them-Her indignation and repulsion of these attacks upon her honor- The efforts made to overcome trouble, and finally the finding of a friend. V.-Mrs. Bolton's relation to Clarence of past events continued-Tndignation of Clarence and his determination of avengping injuries received-His anticipation of -bright hopes, for the future-His course in Col u mbia Colie-is vindication of his rights by personal chastise- mentsto some of the purse-proud students-The president overlooks his conduct, and he be- comes a general favorite. VI.-FnnnyGould, the daughter of the rich broker-Clarence meets her for the first time since the accident on the ferry oat-Their conversation-Clarencemintroduced to Colonel Vander- hoost-His endeavors to show gratitude for past services-The dog Beppo-Col. Vanderhoost pleased with Clarence, and determines to give him his assistance. VI.CsonHouse officers -A brief history of Col. Vanderhoost, as a merchant? his'militar career, his travels in Eur p, &c.-The Walton House-Clarence filfils his appointment wig Col. Vanderhoost-They dine together, by which Clarence learns something. VIII.-The Dinner-Olarence accepts the invitation to dine with Mr. Gould-Col. Vander- hoost's description of the different kinds of blood, with an illustration-He ,visits the mother of Clarence-late, dog Beppo-Shows his interest in the welfare of, and his advice to, Clarence. IX.-All about foreigners with assumed titles, and the manner they gull the New York aris- tocracy. X.-Colonel Vanderhost still continues to devise ways and means to advance the interest of Clarence-His visit to Mr. Gould, to whom he makes disclosures of an astonishing character. II.-The dinner atMr. Gould's-Clarence Bolton, the lion, &c., &c. XII.-The dinner at Mr. Gould's concluded-The conversation on the way of getting rich-. Clarence's interview with Mrs. Gould-Col. Vanderhoost's. advice and his system of book- keeping-The Dutch grocery. XIII.-Clarenee at home-His meditations-Promises made to his mother-Meets Fanny, and visits Mrs. Gould, &c. XIV.-.-Clarence prevails upon his mother to visit Mrs. Gould-Note from Colonel Vanderhoost -The game of dominoes at Delmonico's-A poetic conversation, &c. XV.-Clarence and mother vi'it the Gould family-Clarence's prospects-Mrs. Gould and Fanny visit the mother of Clarence-A love scene-An interval of five years. XVI.-Colonel Vanderhoost becomes rich-Clarence takes the situation of clerk in a mercantile house-Fanny Gould married-Qlarence becomes a successful merchant, enters the arena of politics, and is nominated for the Legislature. XVIClarence elected to the Legislature-His career therein highly creditable-His partner' travels-Mr. Lee and family-His mother, &c. XVIII.-Merchants, what constitutes one-Transactions of the firm of Lee & Bolton, &e. XIX.-The firm of Lee & Bolton becomes prosperous-Mary Lee-Death of Mrs. Bolton, &0. XXI.-Departure of Clarence to Euro'e-His voyage, shipwreck, &c.-The Lee and Gould family-Letter from Clarence concerning bull fights. p XXIL-Clarenceas return and prosperity attends the firm-Death of Fanny-Clarence sent to Congreass-and the- fiai is the marriage of Clarence to Miss Lee, and young Lee to Miss A NEW YORK STOR?, (.4) BOUT two hundred and three years ago, old Pe- ter Stuyvesant, assisted by his trumpeter, An- 0 V thony Van Corlaer, reigned in this old town, which was'at that time a dependancy of Holland, ML l and called .JVieuwe Amsterdam. The good old Peter was Governor thereafter seventeen years, and then 'the place fell into the hands of the, purse-proud English. Peter resigned the sep- tre, Anthony flung away 4he trumpet, aud Gov- ernor Nichols .succeeded. We do not intend to writers history of New York, and therefore we shall say a very little about the details of the great and marvellous changes which have been wrought in its history during the interval of Pe- ter Stnyvesant and Ambrose Kingslan1d, a period C of just two centuries and three years. Piter had about,800 Low Dutch souls under h when he commenced, and as near as we can getat it, Ambrose has, about 800,000 f all inds of souls under his seal. These are a mixed breed. Some of the Dutch descendants are yetmo S; They are considered about as ancient a breed es we have, and their claims to gentili are pretty generally recognized. Their Book of Heraldry is Valentine's Manual, containing alist of the old Dutch settlers, aldermen, &c., during the Dutch regime. The Knickerbocker stock areproud of their ancestors, and clique it considerably on this account, though not one of the whole lot of the descendants can speak good honest Jhow Dutch, if it was to save one of the race from being hpg; Among these families there are still found the names of Stuyvesant, Beekman, Bleecker, Stky* ker, Anthony, Nevins Van Cowenhoven, Ruyter,'Roffman, Depeyster, Van Cortlandt; Schuylerj. c ipp, Verplanek, De KaDyckman, Vermilyca, Benson, Van Schaick -Van Zandt, De Forest, Vanlyff, Mprvins, Le Roy, Gouveneur, Backer, Stenwyok. _Vense, Crigier, Laurens, Van Brugger,Wyekoffi Van Waggener, Van Horn, Van Vleck, Van Rensselaer, atid some others we wot not of. This town never began to trael at all until the English got hold of it, and even then it did no move very rapidly, for in 1790, (one hundred years after,) it only had a populationof 10,000. After the Revolution, when the Americans got possession, and after our glorious Federal Union was consummated, and the seat of government was sent off to Washington, the Empire City began to walk. Untrammeled and independent, sustained only by her commerce, she sprang at once on the track, and in a very shortntime got ahead woPhiadelphia, and took her titleof the great em- porium of the United Statesj and one which she will retain so long,'as the Union hplds together., WITH CITY SOCIETY IN ALL ITS PHASES. CHAPTER- -. CONTENTS :-Introductiof-New York, its early history-our Dutch ancestors-eG Pte, enei n the ferynboat-Cl - ton and hi dog Beppo-Mr. Gould and family-Fanny Gould interested with BeppeA cident to Pan- iey!Clarence leaps in the water to her rescue-'Con versation in ths water-Trying scene-Plate, Beppo with Fanny- Cla rence, m ith itis charge, reaches the shore of Governor's Island in saf~ty-They cress to Castle Garden-Plate, scene on the bridge-Clarence indignant at conduct of Mr. Gould-canny affected. page: 4-5[View Page 4-5] 4 CLARENCE BOLTON. After-the war of the Revolutiou, we bad in addition to the old Dutch and English breed, other kinds, and at present New York-is iade up of citizens from every part of God's-earth. All races and all nations are represented here. The blood of the old aboriginies, the European, the Asiatic, &nd the African, flows in the veins of our citizens. The European and the African predominates. The latter is easily classified into black and yellow. The European is from the Dutch, English, French, German, Spanish, Irish; Welch, Scotch, and every other kind, and a large nUmber retain through years the traces off their distinctive origin. The Jews'are found here in large quantities, and from every European nation, but laying claim to the peculiarities of none, except the nation which closed its existence at the time of the cruci- fxion of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. The Asiatic and Indian races have no cliques or cir- cles in society, and we have nothing to say about them. We shall have more to say about these races and clique as our story progresses. We hasten now to commence it. Any event cce., cted with commerce or markets must necessarily affect New York in all its length and breadth, from the Battery to Harlem Bridge, from the North River and Jersey city to the East River, and Brooklyn and Williamsburgh. Our tale must open in the memorable year' *hen cotton rose from twelve cents for ordinary New Orleans to eighteen cents per pound. All of our commercial readers who read this history will remember that year of the cottoti rise, and con, sequent speculations, and it is very important that they should do so. On a beautiful summer afternoon, in the month of July, one of the ferry boats left the foot of Barclay street for Hoboken. The day had been unusually warm for even that month of the year; the thermometer at Lynch and Clark's, in Wall street, stood at 98, and the brokers, speculators, and moneyed men of the Street, the great men on 'Change, hurried out of that hot den of iniquity and wickedness a little before three, in order to breathe the pure air and the fresh, invigorating breeze which is found at the Elysian Fields, in company with their families, for a short time, and then be enabled to return to the city before evening set in, when all the loafers and rowdies would be crowding on to the ferry boat to return also. The ferry boat, on this occasion, had hardly cleared the long piles that protect the dock at that ferry, before a stranger on board of her would have had his attention riveted upon one particular family, although the boat was crowded with men, women, boys, girls, and even little' squalling brats of babies taken along to enliven the scene with their sweet voices, and (to their particular parents) most delightful music. There were a great many fashionable people on board, beside the family to Which we have alluded, which consisted 6f a father, mother, and two extremely lovely daughters. The gayest of the two was a very beautiful girl, just entering upon her teens, whose whole soul and attention seemed to be absorbed by a large, black, shaggy dog, of the Newfound- lad species, who was wandering about the deck of the ferry boat, apparently without any owner or master. The dog appeared to be ready for a regular built lark with anybody who would notice him, and was not at all shy of scraping an acquaintance when he discovered that -the little maid was desirous of cultivating a friendship with him. She, on her part, when she ascertained that he was good-natured, would bear patting, and didn't seem at all inclined to bite, commenced a series of caresses, which the intelligent animal received both gratefully and gracefully. After he had wag- gOthis tail a few times, rolled over once or twice, all the time keeping his eyes'steadily fixed upon her, he placed his'big, cold nose upon her lap, and they were friends at once. The introduction had taken place, and they felt that they were on speaking terms. The dog had about his big neck a brass collar. No sooner did thief attract the attention of the young girl than she began to examine it, and aftetsome spelling, she made out and pronounced the word " Beppo." The dog started, sad looked at her with some surprise, which said as plainly as words could have done, "How the dickens do you know my name ?" "His name is Beppo, mother," said the pleased girl. "Beppo, child ?-whose name. is Beppo ?" was asked by a fat, dowdy looking sort of female, whom the girl had addressed by the sweet name of mother. I-s," pointing to the dog. "May not he be my dog, mother ?" "COome away directly from that horrid beast ; he'll bite you." " Oh, no, mamna, he won't. See,- he wants to play with me. Beppo, Bep," continued the child, as the noble animal commenced a series of playful movements when he heard his name so famili-. arly spoken by the little lady, and she paid no further attention to mama. Master JBeppo had completely captivated her young affections. CLARENCE BOLTON. 6 There was another person who stood near the group we have been describing, and he was notan inattentive observer of what was passing. His dark eyes had not wandeiredfrom the beautiful features of the young girl; he had watched the progress of her acquaintance withthe animal, and it was quite evident to another spectator that he felt pleased at the result He was leaning against the rail, occasionally noticing the lady who was addressed as mafta, with another still younger girl than the first seated by her side, when he was startled from his reverie by the ques- tion, Is that your dogyoung man" He took a close look of the questioner. It was the father of the young l"dy-Iy stout, thick set man, short in stature, apparently about forty-five or fifty years of age, with large, bushy eyebrows, and features of a very ordinary kind. "It is, sir," replied the youth addressed, " and a very fine dog he is." ( / "I thought he was your dog," was the further remark of the father. 7ahe youface, was i- dently not over seventeen years of age. He was till, well made up a very pe f aker foi - lectual forehead, a keen, piercing eye, and hair as black as jet.d theregardedthe speke fota moment with a look expressive of the niost supreme contempt, an elat, ilehit his serious features, as though at that 'instant he remembered the relations -hieh this *i014S grained, pompous man stood to the lovely child who was romping withhsi frta he e rm h him in a subdued tome, "Indsed, I supposed you arrived at that conclusion'fom tltcuk"06c that I have been constantly watching his'movements." ell page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] 6 qLARENCE BOLTON.' "Perhaps so. However, I did kndw that he was your dog. Nobody but a Dale faced, melan- choly looking youth, like you, would own such an ugly dog as that." What reply such a brutal remark might have called forth, we will not venture to suppose. There was an angry flush passed rapidly over the brow of the young man; but before he could reply, a scream was heard, and the young girl was missing. The dog stood at the end of the boat alone, and was watching some object in the water, and hesitating, as if undecided what to do next, or waiting for his young master. 1le did not have to wait long. The youth no sooner heard the scream, than he comprehended it all in a moment. He cast off his coat, called to the dog, "Come, Beppo," and jumped off the end of the boat into the.river, and was soon seen making his way to- wards a spot in the river where the white dress of the girl was quite visible, and followed by the dog. All was confusion on board of the ferry boat, "Girl overboard !" was sung out by every- body. The mother fiainted, and was carried into the ladies' cabin, but the father and the younger sister, Lydia, continued to watch the parties in the water, but neither spoke. At last the cry rose from every one of the anxious spectators, "He has got her ;" but all this while the distance was increasing between the ferry boat and those in the water. The efforts made to get back to the spot where the girl went over only made matters worse. Ferry boats were even more unmanageable in those days than they are now. The parties overboard were in the middle of the river, the tide was ebbing, and they were drifting down the river. The alarm on board partially subsided, when they discovered that the young man was swimming, and sustaining, by the help of the dog, both himself and the girl above water. Then the master of the ferry boat headed her for the ferry house, on the New York side, as he found it useless to attempt to reach them with the clumsy old machine. We will leave the ferry boat and go to the drowning party. The young girl, in her gambols with Beppo, had approached to the stern end of the boat, but was too much occupied with him to observe that she was in any danger, and in avoiding his rather rough caresses she stepped back. ward and found herself in the water, and the boat rapidly leaving her. She screamesl as she fell, and it seemed but a moment ere the young man followed her, but even in that time the boat had got some distance from her, and he had to exert himself. He kicked off his shoes, and after a few vigorous strokes of his arm he was by her side, -and so was Beppo. She was half drowned, and completely frightened and bewildered. He sustained her head above water, with one arm about her, until she partially recovered, and could comprehend him when he said, "Don't get scared; you are in no danger." and when he had re-assured her, he added, "Now, let go'of me for a mo- ment, and then put your arm around my neck, and I will support and swim with you upon my back." This was soon arranged, and having both hands now free, he placed himself with his head to the north, and made no exertion to swim, but merely to keep above water, and then floated with the tide. He knew enough about tides to know that to .swim against it would soon exhaust and drown him. Instinct taught Beppo to do the same, and when the young man got one arm over the back of the powerful dog, while using the ether to keep above water, the party were qtiite easy and comfortable. He was perfectly calm alnd composed, and his conduct inspired her with confidence. "There will be lots of boats.out very quick to pick us up," said he. "Oh dear, I don't see any; I amafraid we will be drowned. What shall we do ?" "Nonsense, we are not going to be drowned. Boats will come out as soon as we are discovered in the water." "I hope so. What made you come in the water ?", "To save you from being drowned, which you would have been before this if I had not. Bless your darling little heart, I would rather be drowned with you, than to have stopped on board and seen you perish alone; but there is no danger now, Beppo and me will keep you and us up until we get help." "How come you to know that I was overboard ?" "I heard you scream; I had, been watching you play with Beppo, and missed you,"J " How very good of you. Is Beppo your 'dog ? Won't he get drowned ?" . " Oh no, he likes the fun ; he is used to it. He and me have swam three miles and more many a time-but look at that bungling ferry boat-the fools--why don't they get to the landing and -send out a small boat after us ? Hang me if I think anybody on shore sees us ; however, -it is ra.- ther pleasant. Beppo, old dog, how do you feel, ek ?" - Beppo wagged his tail and yelped; ho couldn't raise a respectable bark. His young master un.- derstood him, however. "Oh, it's all my fault-what is your name ?" *1 M"ly name? Clarence." Clarence-that is a pretty name; but that aint all your name, is it ?" "No, my family name is-Bolton. Now what is your name, my little fairy ?" "Fanny." "Fanny what ?" "Fanny Gould." "And that old gentleman on board the ferry boat was old Bob Gould, eh ?" "Who?" "Mr. Gould, the rich broker in Wall street." "Do you know my father ?" "Never saw him before to-day, but I've heard of him often. Bless my soul, but this is getting serious; I'm getting exhausted. Can you hold on to Beppo a few moments ?" Fanny did as she was de- V~ sired, and Clarence aided her 4 in keeping on the back of the dog; not a soul seemed to be astir, as they floated down with the tide ; they had pass - ed Castle Garden, and Clar- ence began to get seriously _ _ alarmed, and made up his -- mind that when they got a- - breast of Governor's Island it would be his last chance, and that he would then exert all his. remaining - strength to get ashore. He - knew that if she could hold on to Beppo, and keep her- hedd above water,.she was safe, for the dog would swim ZZI after himself wherever he - should go. Now, Fanny, this is the last chance to save our- selves from drowning, for there is no sign of help from the shore," said Clarence to the little maid, when they were opposite to Castle William, and the tide or current had carried them as near the Island as possible, and he knew they would be no nearer. "Hold tight td Beppo, and don't let go your hold, even if you should see me drown before your eyes.' We will make a swim in earnest now, and .as sure as we get out of the strong current we will be safe. Can yqu keep hold of the dog ?" "I'll try my best." And now Clarence, who was almost worn out by the exertions he unad used to keep hi own as well as Fanny's head above water, made a desperate effort to get out of the current and reach the island. . The dog perfectly understood vhat was to be done, and paddled away with both paws as if he was swimming for a wager. It was a hard struggle, but at last, when he felt that all was nearly over, they neared the land and Clarence just touched bottom. Then he swam back and aided Fanny, took her in his arms and wided up to dry ground, and lid down on the green grass completely overpowered. They were safe and he was grateful, and so was Fanny. They remained' but a short time on that spot, but as soon as they had rested a little from their fatigue, they walk- ed across the Island to the dock were the boats start from. The government barge was just leaving, and after some explanation, they were rowed across to.'the Castle Garden bridge. Mr. Gould was there, and so was his wife and Lydia. They had rushed from the ferry boat (after- sending out a row boat) to the barge office at Whitehall. There, by means *ef a spy-glass, t5ey saw them get ashore at Governor's Island and knew they were safe. 'When Mr. Gould sawr f N CLARENCE BOLTON. page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] 6 For a moment Clarence was stupified. Then he did take the coin, and indignantly threw it down upon the bridge, bade them good bye, and hurried across to the Battery. - "Mr. Gould followed with his family. Fanny was weeping. He merely said "Fan,,l think that young chap is crazy." Fanny didn't open her blessed lips, but she thought deeply upon the subject, and continued to think about it until she reached home. CLARENCE BOLTON. CLARENCE BOLTON. them enter tne barge, he proceeded with his wife and other daughter to the bridge, and Fanny was in her mother's arms. A nice business this, sir," was Mr. Gould first greeting, "and all on account of that dog of yours. Here-" (and Mr. Gould drew Fan- ny's arm within his own, and handed Clarence-- half a dollar,) "here," said he, "is something for your trouble, although you don't deserve it. Take this," 4S Ile 9 -5 I CHAPTER II. CONTENTS--The descendants of English and nuguenot families-the mongrel clase-early career of Mr. Gould-Poor*Uo4se -Sale of the Poor-floraler-Going into business-Marriage. EFORE the commencement of our story, or, rather, before presenting to our readers the characters already introduced, we should have said morerespecting the other principal classes of people that made up this city, or its population, after the Revolutionary war. We have spoken of the Dutch and their descendants, and we must now say a few words in reference to the English class. A great many of the leading families in this community claim a certain rank from being descended from old Englishfamilies, who emigrated to this country previous to the Revolution, and who, have some claims to the respect of the community from their antiquity. They remained here while the war was pending, and most of them, during that period, were to-* ries or neutral. When peace was declared, they then mixed up with all the other classes as American citizens-past political differences were forgotten-they engaged in the same kind of active business, and their descendants retain none of the original bitterness of the race, though most of .them still possess a respec- table quantity of English pride and prejudice. With this old tory class of the come munity, which existed in this city after the war of the Revolution, was found another class, equally descendants from the English stock, but they reached New York in a different way. These were the primitive race of English that came to this continent and origi- nally peopled New England, and afterwards were the pioneers in the events that led to the inde- pendence of these colonies, and their descendants found their way to New York, via New England, and became the pioneers of commerce. Of this English, but purita descent, we have still among us- of the same names-and directly descended from the true American breed, such families as Althorp, Alsop, Kent, Jay, Livingston, Laight,. Lawrence, Hicks, Bache, Phoenix, Milkey, Post, Perit, Thurston, Jones, Wetmore, Woodward, Haydock, Reese, Lott, Glover, Bard, Levison, Walton, Wolsey, Fleming, Delancey, Marshall, Preston, Gibbs, Deming, Clarkson, Fuller, Newbold, Beach, Aspinwall, Waddington, Brooks, Lenox, Barclay, Hutchings, Goodhue, Grinnell, Ogden, Davis, Macy, Dixon, King, Sands, Morton, Roy, Lester, Hudson, Whitloch, and hundreds of others. There were emigrants here from,France prior to the Revolution, who settled in this vicinity %fter the Edict of Nantz. They were Huguenots, and their descendants are found scattered through the city. Some of them are the Lorillards, Demaret, Seguines, Mesiers, Dela- laines, Latourettes, D la Montagnes, Jumels, Depaus, Devaus, De Rhams, Duers, and many others ; After the Revolution, thousands poured into this city from other States of the confederacy, as Ivell as from countries abroad, sprang into notice, and acquired fortunes after Peace was esta- blished, whose origin is not known or cared about. Their wealth has enabled them to overtop all claims of birth or talent. They have married into what are called the old families, and hold un- disputed sway in what is called the fashionable world, or the upper crust society of the dity. This class were, generally speaking, a hard working, industrious, economical, prudent,,money-making set of'merchants, mechanics, and shopkeepers, who arrived in the-great city from other States and nations, without a blessed copper in their pockets, and they have succeeded and become the rich or copper class of the community. Success has enabled them to pass as current as a more valuable coin, though of lesser size. It was to this class our rich broker, Mr. Gould, belonged, and as he is a gentleman that will figure pretty extensively in this wonk, which will be devoted to a faithful idscription of the page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] CLARENCE BOLTON. manners and habits of Irominent classes, of which his class 'includes a very large and imposing bpdy of individuals in this city, we will give his history, as a sample, of a great many others of the tribe. His class are not enumerated in what we have already written, either specifically or generally, as neither the old low Dutch, the English p "'tan, or tory breed, or any other, car1 lay claimywith any degree of certainty to the species. Its a mongre class that have no known or established origin.* The names of grand-parentsare c tainly notwritten in'the family bibles of but very few of this class. In fact, the imprint oft ir family bibles contain the names of the "Harpers" or other cotemporaneous book and bible publishers. This class grow well and flourish best when planted in city soil, and more particularly in a city that contains a Wall street. It is a a delightful hot-bed for the growth of hearty, though very common plants. To designate this species, we bill call them the mongrel class. It is composed of men who have acquired wealth and conse- quent distinction, from blundering stupidity and lucky circumstances, rather than from honest, legitimate business talent, industry, and comprehensive, extended mercantile combinations.hThis class cannot boast of family or personal qualities, or attainments. They have no claim by birth, cleverness, occupation, habits or manners, to the title of gentlemen, which they assume. Success -wealth-has stamped the word merit on their character and fortunes. The stamp is good, and passes -current all over the town, and no 'one pretends to dispute or contest the claims of this class to assume any position they desire. Wealth!' The man who possesses that in this commu- nity, has i4 his possession the one thing needful on this earth, no matter what Holy Writ says about it. It is a passport endorsed as good by public opinion, and enables the lucky possessor to travel every where among us. It opens the doors of every house-it purchases the best seats in the temple of God.'The minister at his altar comes more speedily, when summoned to a death. bed in the rich man's house, and the carriage of the man of medicine stands longer and oftener at its portals. The learned in law are ever at the beck and call of the rich-villian, though the rich may be-and though the poor and bereft of all, save right, be sueing for redress against him. The boxes and best seats at the opera, concert, or theatre, are open to him and his. The mind and the intellect of those to whom God has awarded the five talents, are at the command of him to whom le has not given one. 1Oh, how far distant is it from our intention in these forthcoming chapters to decry or hold up to levity or ridicule any man, or class of men, who have risen to either fortune, or position, or both, by a course of steady, persevering industry, and honesty in any pursuit or profession. Such de- serve, and- will-ever receive, from our pen the highest and most marked commendations; but when we find men of the mongrel class, of which we now write-men who have never traveled any of these legitimate avenues to fame, fortune, or position-men who can boast of no ancestry, no past services of their own or their progenitors, to the human race, the country, or to the city in which they reside-men who can only point to the piles of money they have hoarded up, or the real estate which they own as their only claim to position, and a commanding influence in our city- men that mere success has caused. to be proud, overbearing, and tyrannical to their superiors in - every respect, save money-despisers of the weak, the poor, and the humble-ay, of their own ori- gin. A class, who, instead of extending a friendly hand, or speaking a kind and gentle word to those around them, who are striving to get along, and earn their daily bread for themselves and their families, are the ones who strive by high rents, exorbitant interest, and in a thousand other ways, to crush, oppress, overburden them still more, and trample them under their feet..-'Again we apologize, and say, that it may not be without its uses to give somewhat in detail the early career of one of this class; to go back to his original position, trace his career rapidly through a series of years, until he bursts forth upon soeiety, the respected nabob the millionaire among us, to whom all bend and bow, and give place, from the humble, hungry, half-starved Lazarus, he orders kicked from his basement area, up to the minister of od's house, whom he allows to come and wine with himt occasionally, and to christen, marry, and bury his children, if he preaches accord- ing to what his (the rich man's) ideas of 'a god and religion may happen to be. We hav6 no doubt that it will prove very useful and instructive to this class o,f our citizens to hold up to their vision a fair and just sample of their own peculiar class. They may discover in the picture their owia matter lyorthlessness, deformity, and hideousness. As one of this class, we will now give a sketch of the birth, parentage, and early career of Robert Gould, the rich and respectable Wall street boker and operator, previous to his introduction to ou0 edr nbadteHbknfrybas inte preceding chapter. ur.aeso or heHbkt er ot CLARENOE BOLTON. There is still retained in many portions of our land a hortid custom clled "farming ot the Therens poo" resied ciytp of those who are aged and helpless, and who have no friends or means of existence, or of others who are destitute, and reduced to want by'sickness or any other cause. f eist mo uol ot ard yet it exists in our blessed land. On a certain day of every year all the poor of a town or village, having been previously catalogued, those helpless onies are op- lected together, by th select men to be farmed out by auction. It is stated in this catalogue what are their respective ages, their health, and what they are able to do. When the vendue is to come off, the townlercries out to the towns people, "The town of A is about to farm out the poor, how much will any one give to take the whole lot, consisting of nine men, women and children, as h c y be?" Then the bidding commences. One says $200, another $160, and another $the cand the last being the lowest, agreeing to take them the cheapest, is the successful bidder, adis announced byname as esh. Then begin thecomments of the unsuccessful bidders, and by- standers. Hard lot at that price," says one. "Must lose on 'em," says another, "No such thing-will make by the job, for thy will aldie." "No, they won't; all will live, and provisions are very high.'" That is nthig;, seven of these men cana earn day wages all the year rouud.". rvTom Brigs kows how to work em out. He will have two-thirds of 'em in white pine boxes, after haying and harvesting is over. Tom ain't a going to winter all them chaps." It was at a similar sale of the " towns poor" such as we have described, which took place in the village of B., in the year 179-, that there might have been seen, if any of our readers had have been there, an ignorant, silly, half-witted woman, about twenty-eight years of age. She was for Sale rmong the town's poor, as was also her son, a lad of nine about years of age, both of whom were standing in the group to be disposed of. In her teens, Nancy tould-for that was this poor woman s name-had evidently posseoed ome claims to beauty. She was simple, and ignorant,'never having received any kind offinfr- mation, but having een allowed to run uncultivated about the place. Her parents had long been dead. She had made-her home at the village tavern, from the time she was five years of age untij she was eighteen, earning a living by'her work. When she was about the last age, a traveling tin pedlar was passing through the town, and put up at the tavern for several days. During his '44 9 page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 'I 12 CLARENCE BOLTON. stay he became attracted by the pretty features of Nancy, and a present of a few articles of gilt jewelry, captured the poor girl's heart, she became his victim, and the result may be conjectured. Some months elapsed after'the pedlar had taken his departure, and poor N4ancy Gould became an object of scorn and contempt to all the good people of the town. There was but one house open to receive her, end that was the place for the " town poor." In that old rookery, kept by the poor.house keeper, Mr. Skinner, she gave birth to a son, who was named Robert, and for years he and his mother had been inntates of "Robert Skinner's poor-house." In the year of which we speak, when Robert had become nine years of age, and capable of -__ ~ --doing something, the man who bought the poor -___that year had, previously to doing so, or to the sale, sold Master Bob, or rather hired him out until he should reach twenty-one, to a well known New England horse jockey, who annu- ally made his appearance in that village to pur- chase up horses for the West India markets. A month after the poor-house auction that year we find Master Robert a stable boy in one of the Atlantic cities. Poor as he was he had found means to pay for going to the District School teacher at odd hours, and he could rcai and write, was active and industrious in his new vocation, and when he reached the age of seven- teen was the best hostler in the place. vy CLARENCE BOLTON. 18 his employer, in regard to his honesty, good moral character, and capabilities, as a coachman ; and with that and his little capital, he made his way to New York. Here was a field for the exercise of his peculiar talents. Here he was destined to shine. He got a situation, but not astcoachman. A grocery merchant hired him as a porter in his store. He learned that business amazingly quick, and by the time he was twenty-two, he had bought out his 'employer, (who was a small corner grocer,) and hoisted his own shingle as the successor. Money now began to pour in. Then there was money to be made in other transactions, and this decided his course. He had instinctive feelings for handling money, so he sold out his grocery--rented a basement cellar down town-it *as in Wall street, and two years after he was one of the most active little money brokers run- ning up and down the street. He was an object of some interest to a great many principals. His associates were many of them gentlemen-needy men will always associate with those who have wealth-and Bob Gould had it, or the way and means to get it for his friends, or th ' who could raise any kind of security. God help needy gentlemen who fell into his clutches. But he never lost by such'people. No-he was too keen and shrewd for that. After Mr. Gould had been in the brokerage business a few years, and had made thousands, he became acquainted with a young man, who was descended from the ancient Dutch stock we have alluded to. They were proud and poor. The, young man had a sister-Bob liked her. She was not handsome, not even good looking-short, thick, and stout, and she had no money; but there was a fair prospect that she would have some day, a very valuable property, if real estate should rise and her brother die, which seemed very probable, as he was one of the fastest young men of those days. But, tbove all, she was a blooded animal and had the best sort of family connections, and that was what Gould wanted, for he had none. the match was made, and Mr..Gould became the head of a family, and rented a dwelling house for them. Then followed one partnership after another, and rapid increase of business until he made afirm that every one knocked under to in Wall street. He was the great broker. Sons and daughters were growing up about him, and his family had become the leadingbne 'in fashionable circles-the fashionable class-of the citizens of this modern Babel. Bravo, Bob. Water will find its own level, and so will the genius of a money-mker! Stch is a rapid outline of the early career of Robert Gould up to the time when, we introduced him, and a portion of his family, to our readers, on board the Hoboken ferry boat, as we have described in a previous chapter. A few months afterward he purchased his time of the livery stable keeper and horse jockey, and at once entered into the service of a wealthy merchant, as coachman. At twenty, Bob had saved considerable money. He was grasping, greedy, and not at all squeamish as to how he got it. ' By a thOusand ways, only known to cunning boys, he had turned many an honest penny, and had stowed away in an old hair trunk, which he had bought for twenty-five cents, the little sum of two hundred and fifty dollars. His ambition longed for a new and more extensive field of opera- tions, where his genius would have fair play, so he procured a certificate of recommendation from I I I 0 :[ 0 page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] 15 CLARENCE BOLTON. CHAPTER III. CONTENTS-.anhattan Irsland-resideace of Madame Clarin-return home of Clarence and Beppb--relation of his adven- tures with Fanny-hidtoty of Madame Claria's family-their acquaintance with Edward iolton, Clarence's fakther-courts'hip and marriage of Edward Bolton and Julie loria. OMPARATIVELY speaking the Island on which our city is built has not changed in its location or outlines since its first discovery, when the red man, who roamed over it, called it Manhattan. Manhattan Island it is still called, but on what was once the whole island, there was a spot well remembered by many of our old citizens, which was locally known as 14,Manhattan Island" and is still called soby many who reside in that por- tion of the city. It was a little island in what is now the 11th Ward, though it has long since been filled up, and the 11th Ward is a dense portion of the city, now crowded with population, Such was not the fact at the time our story opens. ~____ At that time tkere were few houses in that por- tion of the city. The "Island" was standing, and, as a matter of course, surrounded by water. It is now hardly remembered, except by the old residents, but they invariably speak of tlat por- tion of the city, the 11th Ward. as Manhattin Island. This Ward contains many objects of in- terest. The large ship-yards, the great foundries, &c., are located in that Ward on the East river. It has within its limits a mdgnificent promenade ground known as Tompkins Square. Should any of our readers ever visit the old 11th, they will find just below the Union Market in Houston street, the commencement of Manhattan Alley, which. leads into Third street, almbst di- rectly opposite one end of that alley they may notice, if it is still standing, a small two story house with a heavy pitched roof, two large dormer windows, with rather a heavy dore cornice. On the 2d story, three windows resting on a piazza, supported by four small columns, which shelters the first story. Running the extent of the piazza is a wooden bench 'directly under the parlor win- dows. The door is protected by a Venetian outer door, the heavy shutters are painted green.' Underneath is an area, the entrance to which is by the side, consisting of a small flight of stone steps. There is a yard surrounding the house, but-in front, immediately covering the area, is a wooden platform and a covered way leading to an I arch gate way,and in front a row of palings. About the centre of the front is L a large elm tree. The house-that we have - described was situated on - the northern side of what was then denominated Manhattan Island, and within a stone's throw of it. In this identical house - Mrs:Blolton resided, and I , it was here Clarence was - born. Mark the house--- well reader, and as we proceed with our work you .V 'will learn the history of that quaint old. house. At the time of which we write, the house pre- seated a more striking appearance than it now does. Then it stood alone, there was no other house in the vicinity, The rest of the property about was unenclosed and apparently a common, covered with little puddles and overrun with Jamestown weed. Just as twilight commenced at the closing of that day, when the rich broker Mr. Gould and Clarence Bolton parted in anger on the bridge t Castle Garden, after having saved Fanny Gould from drowning, the latter entered the gate to his mother's residence, followed by tefaithful Beppo. The mother had no sooner perceived him, than she exclaimed, in alarm: "Why Clarence, where have you been ? you are wet through! H ave you fallen into the river ?" "Yes, dear mother, I have been in the river, although I did not fall in; and a precious time I have had of it. What an old .beast, to be sure !" "My son!" "Forgive me, dear mother; I was thinking of Fanny's father., He her father! What a shame it is that such a rough, surly old miser should be her father !" "Clarence, what are you talking about! Who is he, and who is Fanny ?" "The sweet little girl that fell off from the ferry boat, isother.' "My dear child, where are your wits gone ? Come inside and sit down by mother, and tell her all abott it. Bless me you have a fever! (and she placed her hand lovingly on his forehead.)- What has excited you in this manner. Now tell me all about it." The affectionate boy was soon calmed down by the gentle voice of his mother, and-then he nar- rated to her all that had occurred from the time heIhad left college that afternoon to go over to Hoboken to get fresh air, look upon green fields, have a stroll in the woods, and listen to the songs of the birds, until he parted with Mr. Gould and his family at the Castle Garden bridge. As he proc6eded with the simple story, the mother became more and more interested ; and, when she learned the full extent of the danger to which her gallant boy had exposed-'himsel' to save the life of a fellow creature, though'a stranger to him, she wept, and asked, "What would poor mother have done, Clarence, all alone in the world,'as she would'have been left, if my darling boy had been drowned ?" As the thought was expressed in words, she raised her eyes in thankfulness to God in silent gratitude that so awful a catastrophe had been spared her; and addressing Clarence, -she added: "Go at once, my son, to your own room, and change your wet clothes for dry ones; go n9w, for fear of catching a cold, and while you are absent, I will go into the kitchen and make you a cup of hot tea. Come, Beppo, will you go with your old mistress and get some supper, good old dog ?" Beppo didn't say whether ht would go or not; but wagged his great bushy tail, which spoke as plainly as language could have done, that he understood his kind mistress, and that her propo- sition met with his very decided approval. The tone of her voice was very pleasant to him, and he knew that he had done something. which sh approved; so he followed her into the kitchen, laid himself down by the ashes in the fire-place to dry hip hair, and waited patiently while his mistress drew out some live embers, and with the aid of some chips brought from the nearest ship-. yard, made a fire sufficient to boil some water in the little tin tea-kettle. After that was ari'anged, it was Beppo's turn to be served, and she gave him his allowance, which consisted of all the cold victuals abcut the premises. While-this little family-are engaged in disposing of their evening meal, we will give a sketch of their previous history. The mother of Clarence was a Creole of St. Domingo., Her parents were born in France, and had emigrated soon after their marriage to the West Indies, where Julie was born. She had reached her seventeenth year when the terrible negro revolution burst-forth, and she had seen her father murdered by his own slaves, With her mother she made her escape front the scene of danger, and found safety on board of an American brig which was lying in the harbor of Port au Prince, and about to sail for New York. In this vessel these two ladies came passen- gers to our city. On their arrival, they landed without .a friend or an acquaintance to greet them. They were completely destitute of means, and had nothing to aid in procuring their im- mediate wants, save a few articles of personal jewelry which they had about them at the time of the negro outbreak, and which they had saved from the wreck and ruin of everything at their home, when they'were so fortunate as to escape with their lives. The name of the father was Jules Clarin. - He' was a very extensive planter, owned a large sugar plantation, and a great many ne groes; He had ever been an overbearing and tyrannical master, and he was one of the first vie- 14 CLARENCE 'BOLTON. page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] CLARENCE BOLTON. CLARENCE BOLTON. time to his own slaves. His wife, M~adame Clarin, had been a kind and gentle mistress, and Julie her daughter was very much beloved; and it w'as this fact that made some of the slaves connive at their escape to the American vessel. At this period Jalie was about seventeen, as we have be- fore stated. She was very pale, but very beautiful, with long dark hair, and very regular features. Her form, though small, was the perfection of symmetry and grace. She was no less accomplished than lovely. On their arrival in the city, the two interesting refugees found shelter in a boarding house in the western portion of the city, which we have been describing. For some months the sale of their watches and jewelry, combined with the strictest economy, enabled them to live; but when the Jewels were parted with one by one, they were left completely destitute. Providence never deserts those who place trust and confidence in him. He raises up friends for the poor and distressed when they have the most need, but the least reason to expect it. It was so in the case of our two forlorn ones. At the boarding house where they first found a home in this city, they met with a young journeyman'ship.-carpenter, whose name was Edward Bolton. He was the only one in the house who seemed to care for or take the least interest in the unprotected foreigners. Girdually this interest increased on his part, and they became intimate; and after a few months, he had sue- ceeded in ingratiating himself entirely into their confidende. Watching, as he did, their every movement, the fact of their embarrassed situation could notbe long concealed from his observation. He knew they were poor, and no sooner did he become fully aware that they were utterly destitute both of means as well as friends, than he sought to relieve them, in so delicate and generous a manner as would have done credit to the higher classes of society. . He went to work at once to remedy their troubles. He was a most skillful and active workman, was constantly employed. and not a soul in New York had any olaim upon his earnings. He too was alone, and this fact bound him more strongly to his foreign acquaintances. He had saved from his earnings a few hun- dred dollars., He went to a very wealthy man, and rented a house of him at a moderate rate' After doing this, he furnished it with every article of furniture necessary to commence house- keeping; and then in the -most delicate manner spoke to Madame Clarin in regard to it. He told her that he was tired of life in a boarding house, and therefore had procured one for his own comfort; but that in order to have it complete, it would be necessary that he should have some one 17 to keep house for him and superintend his domestic arrangements. "Why will you net consent to do this, dear madam," he asked; "I am sure that you and Miss Julie would be much more comfortable thfn you possibly can be as you are now situated-then again it will cost you nothing, and me nothing either; for I shall not have to pay you anything for your trouble, while I should have to pay anybody else, as I have no near relationswin the city who would keep house for me. I should wish you and Julie to do just as if you were in your own house ; and, if it is not asking too much, I should wish you to regard me as a son, and Julie consider me in the light of a bro- ther."- Madame did not reply. She understood all that the generous hearted young carpenter wished, and fully appreciated his 'goodness and generosity, and so did Julie. They exhibited no false delicacy; but promptly accepted his proposition. A few weeks passed away, and-then they were all located in their new home, in the little two story house, and they were surrounded by all necessary household comforts. They had their-snug littleparlor which was in the front room, the windows of which opened upon the piazza. The back room was the place to take their meals. There was a clean kitchen; and up stairs was a large and pleasant room for the -mother and daughter;- and in the rear of that floor was another room, which was appropriated to Edward Boe- ton. How very kind he was! he worked early and late, and scarcely ever came home that he didn't fetch French books for them to read; and at last he hired a piano,. bought music, and what a pleasant. time they all had then! They hired no servants, and that gave Edward a thousand opportunities of obliging the lovely Julie, and of doing a hundred things to save the gentle'girl from fatigue. He brought the water from the pump for their daily use.; he made the fires, and when Sunday came, what a pleasant day it was for them! It was a day of rest, day of pleasure, and a day of worship. Early in the morning of that day the Widow Clarin and Julia, accompanied by Mr. Bolton, would go down town to the French Church, Du Saint Esprit, in Pine street, and listen to the service in that language from the lips of the worthy young pastor, the Reverend Mr. Verren. How well do we remember that old church which was located between Pine and Cedar. streets; we can see it now as we saw it in 1881i when they were digging up the bones and preparing to remove them and then tear down the ven- arable pile. When the morning service was L~J over they would return home, and the rest of the day was devoted to conversation and reading. Ed- F ward found a ready teacher in Ju- lie, and she found him an apt scholar. It was not a long time before Edward could converse -- freely with the mother of his in- tended, who knew very little Eng- lish and was not disposed to learn any more than she did know. Is it strange that under all these circumstances, 4dward Bolton should have become devotedly attached to Julie Clarin? It wouldhave been more surprising if he had not. He loved the beautiful Creol4 from the first day that they had met, and after they had become inmates of the same house, he learned to make her the dearest object of his existence, but he did not tell her of his love. He Would not have done so for all the world. She knew it, and then the gratitude and real admiration of his sterling manly virtues-his goodness of heart-his nople bearing, had made her love him and she told her mother of it. The health of the old lady was very poor, and she hardly ever left 8 16 I page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] 18 CLARENCE BOLTON. her house save to go to the French church, and recently she rarely left her own room, but no soon- er had her daughter informed her of the state of her affections, and what she believed those of Ed- ward to be, than she sent for him, and as soon as they were alone (for Julie found it convenient about that time to attend to some trifling affair in the kitchen) she asked him if he loved Julia. Poor Edward was thunderstrucki Had she accused him of sacrilege he could not have felt so guilty. He was guilty. He did love Julie. No, he worshipped her as some superior being, but yet he did not wish to speak of it. Certainly not to her mother. She would probably be angry- Julie would be offended, and they might leave the house. ife made no feply, but Madame Clarin had read his countenance, ,and understood perfectly the cause of his embarrassment as well as if he had told her all, and she continued: "My- pauvre, she tell me she love you-I am very sick-I sal not live long time. It please me very much if you marry my joli Julie ; den when I die and go to my maria in de ciel above, you will take good care of your wife, and love my Julie I sal leave wid you." It was now that Edward Bolton found words to give vent to his long pent up love. He grasped the shrivelled hands of the old dame in his own immense palms-covered them with kisses-told her how long and how devotedly he had loved Julie; but the old lady did not appear to enter into the spirit of his feelings, and she very coolly replied: "Ah, mon ami Edoard, it is all very good for you young people to talk of the love, but not me. Allez chez*Julie, dit to her what you will say. She will tell you what I have said is true." Edward Bolton made but.a few steps until he reached the kitchen, where he found Julie, clasped her in his powerful arms and held her until the pleased girl told him with her own pleasant voice and sweet smile that it was true, and moreover that she was ready and willing to become-his wife whenever it pleased him to make her so. A few weeks after this conversation, the Reverend Mr. Verren, pastor of the French Episcopal " Eglise du St. Esprit," in Pine street, made them one, and the belle of the Island of St. Domingo was metamorphasised into the loving wife of Edward Bol- ton, a New York journeyman ship carpenter. F , 6"i. 0 1 CLARENCE BOLTON. 19 CHAPTER IV. CONTENTS-Hapiness of Edward and Julie Bolton-Accidents follow-Sickiiess and imprisonment of Edward-his release -Ldward killed-Julie's relation to her son Clarence of the pat history of her family, in which are stated the infamous designs of Air. Wolf-the means he used to accomplish them-her indignation and repulsion of these attacks upon her honor-the efforts made.to overcome trouble, and finally the hiding of a friend. URING a period of several years following the marriage of Edward Bolton and Julie Clarin, we have little to relate They continued to reside in the cottage, and for some time there occurred in the calm routine of their household little which would interest our readers. They were happy-very happy, though they were poor and had nothing but Edward's daily earnings at the ship yard, to depend upon for their support. But small as was this amount it was amply sufficient for all of their necessities. What was wealth to tliem at the very threshhold of their marriage career? They had a happy home, health and hope. But- all these did not last" long. A train of accidents arrived First, Bolton met with an accident which confined him to the house for a month, and beforehe had got sufficiently well-to be enabled to go to his work again, the wife's mother died. Shortly after their rent be- came due, but owing to the heavy expenses of his own confinement, the funeral expenses of his mother, and his inability to save anything, he was'unable to pay his landlord. His household furniture was attached and he himself was arrested for debt and tagen to the old jail where debtors were confined at that day. It was not alone the amount of the debt which caused the hostility of the landlord. Mrs Belton was a most beautiful young woman, she had attracted his attention and he was determined to pos- sess her, even if he was obliged to blast the prospects of the husband, and to 41eprive him of his liberty to accomplish his designs. Mrs. Bolton visited her husband daily at that old jail.- How well do we remember it even now. It stood on the east side of the City Hall, where the Register's office now stands. It had 4 little cupola on the top of it. We often used to look at the poor pris- oners up there sunning themselves. Men confined as prisoners for no crime but for debt. We re- member as well how'they used to look, and how that old jail bell sounded as if it were merely yes- terday when we saw them and heard it. The detention of Edward Bolton in that old building was but for a few weeks, and then from an interference, which we shall have occasion to allude to hereafter, he was released and returned to the very house and home from which he had been taken by the landlord power of those times. Soon after his confinement Clarence was born, and they were restored to comfort once more. Work and prosperity followed the arrival of Clarence, and stayed about the old cottage for ten years, when an accident happened which destroyed both. Edward Bolton was'killed The first that his wife learned of the event was when the body of her husband was brought home by his fellow work. men a corpse. This event is too sad a one to dwell upon. It is enough to say that his death was caused by a sad accident in the ship yard of which he was forema'. He fell from off the scaffold- ing of a ship which was building, and the only words heard by those of his companions who first reached him were "wife! child !" and then he was dead. These was a large gathering at the cottage when his funeral took place, for he was known to many and all who knew him, loved and respected him. There was no useless pomp and heartless display on the occasion. He left a little property, but barely sufficie nt to give his widow and- her son a subsistence for a few years.- The widow had tasted poverty before, and the small amount left by her husband was treasured with the care of a miser. A fter her husband's death, Clarence continued but a year at the public school, and then he was transferred to the grammar school attached to Columbia College; when he was fully prepared to enter college she found many of the friends of her husband who were willing to " page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20 CLARENCE BOLTON. aid her in placing Clarence in that college. t the time our story opens Clarence was considered one of the best students in the class which was to graduate the coming fall. When the mother and son had finished their respective employments, they met in the little par- lor and partook of the scanty fare which the limited means of the mother enabled her to provide. The mother recommenced the conversation by referring to the ferry boat adventure. "And so my dear boy, you and Beppo have; by your joint efforts, saved a very pretty young girl from being drowned, even at the risk of being drowned yourself; and for all your trouble and the danger to which you exposed your own dear life, the father offered you a reward of fifty cents!. Well,-don't get angry about it, perhaps the father did not consider his daughter's life worth more than that small amount; if so, and she should live to reach womanhood, and have any gratitude herself, that father might be willing to dispose of her on very reasonable terms, even to a ship- carpenter's son. What do you think of that idea, Clarence?" "Oh, I don't think of that mother ; I was thinking of how ungentlemanly Mr.?Gould behaved to me. Who is he, mother? Did you'ever hear of him before ?" "Yes, and have met him in the company of another very rich man, whom I have cause to re- member; and I wish you to know and remember him also for the sake of your lamented father." "Who was the other rich man, mother, and what reason havs you for wishing that I should be acquainted with him ?" "His name, my son, is Peter Wolf. He was the man that caused your father to be placed in the jail." "In the jail? What! the prison in the Park? .My father ? . Mother, I am no longer a child though I am young. Hardships and the troubles we have had have given me the feelings and ex- perience of a man. I can now think and act for myself. There has always been some mystery connected with my early history, or rather of yours and father's, and I want to know all about it. This is not the first time I have heard you mention that man's name. I have almost unconsciously learned to hate the very sound of it; even- now it makes you look pale and shudder while we are talking of it. What did he do? Why did he cause father to be locked up in prison? What crime had he committed ?" "He? your father? crime! Bless your heart, child, he never committed a crime or did a wrong to a human being in his life. He was not confined for anything of that kind: he was arrested and placed in the old jail for debts which he owed, and was not able to pay. He was the kindest and best-" "But this Mr. Wolf, mother. What was the nature of the transactions between him and my father ? Did my father owe Wolf money ? I want to know all about it. What did Wolf do ?" "1Sit down, my 'hild, and don't get excited in that manner, and I will tell you what he did. When your father and myself were married, we occupied the same snug house that you and me now do, and it belonged then to Mr. Wolf, as well as the vacant land about it. He was in the habit of calling every quarter day to collect the rent and-" "Well he gotit, of course. Go on, mother." "Yes, at that time but, Clarence, mother 'was then what the world called pretty, and Mr. Wolf became a very great admirer of mine; and on one occasion, when he called to collect the rent, father was not at home, he was at his work in the ship yard, and-" "Mother! he did not dare to-" "Hush,,Clarence, don't get excited in that manner; why, how you frighten me! What is the matter? Mr. Wolf, my son, made a proposal to me: He offered to let me have the house rent free on certain conditions." "And did you, mother-?" "Me! It was sometime before I comprehended his real meaning, and then I drove him out of the house, and told him that if he dared to show his face inside of my honest husband's dwelling again, I, weak woman as I was, would beat out his brains," "Good! glorious, rny dear mother !" shouted the excited boy, as he flung his arms about his mother's neck and fondly kissed her ; " what did this Wolf say to thht ?" "I did not give him time to say anything. I instantly made him take his departure, and when he got outside of the door, I fastened him out. I heard him muttering something about revenge when he was. etanding on the stoop; but I cared very little about what he said then. He has had his revenge since. I did not say anything to your father when he came home of what had In that pile, which was under the charge of one of the most infamous of men, your father was closely- confined. He was not even allowed 'to go on'what was called the 'limits,' which comprised the lower part ef the city. I used to go to that old jail regularly every day, sit by his side for hours CLARENCE BOLTON. 21 transpired, for he was a very violent man when he was roused to anger. He loved me tenderly, and I dreaded telling him of the insulting proposal I had received, lest he should do something to Mr. Wolf and get himself into trouble. He wQuld probably have told the other ship carpenters, and they would have hewed Mr. Wolf into mince meat with their broad axes. Had they caught him in this neighborhood, they would have resented the insult offered to the wife' of one of their number, as if it had been to the wife of each individual; and as likely as not, Mr. Wolf would have been badly hurt." "It would have served him perfectly right, dear mother, and so every other rich villain ought to be served, who uses his wealth to corrupt and seduce the poor man's wife or daughter. Pro- ceed now, mother, and tell me all that happened afterwards. You don't know how much I shall love you after this !" " A few days after Mr. Wolf's visit, Edward out his knee very badly with an adze, and this accident confined him to the house for several weeks, during which period he was unable to do any work at the yard. He had never saved up his earnings; he spent all his money as fast as he made it, to surround me and my mother with every comfort which he thought we might need, and when this accident occurred, we very soon began to be very much cramped for money to procure even common necessaries, for your father.was very proud, and scorned to ask assistance from any one. Before he was able to leave the house, my mother, whose health had been bad for a long time, began to grow worse, and then she died. Her funeral expenses obliged us to get into debt very considerably. Finally we could not pay the quarter's rent when it became due; and without any explanation, and before my husband was well enough to go to work, Mr. Wolf's agent, acting un- der his orders, seized and sold every particle of our furniture, and our home was stripped of every- thing. But that was not all. Your father had some time previous endorsed a note for a friend to the amount of one hundred and fifty dollars. This the friend was unable to pay when it be- came due. Mr. Wolf purchased it, sued, got judgment against-the endorser, for your father knew nothing a ioat law, and somehow.or.other before we ever dreamed of anything of the kind, an officer came and my husband was taken off like a thief, and locked up in the debtor's prison in the Park. The old jail they called it. page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] / CLARENCE BOLTON. and try to cheer him, forbeing in such a place caused him to be very down hearted. 'All of our old neighbors were very kind; they would fill my basket every morning with nice things, pies, cakes, and fresh butter. It almost broke my heart to see him in that filthy place, On one occasion he said to me, 'Julie, I have got a plan in my head by which I think I can persuade Ir. Wolf to let me out of this.' 'What is it, love?' I asked, in surprise, and he continued: 'There can be no possible good in my staying locked up here. If I'was allowed to leave, I could go to work, and with a little economy I could earn, and we could soon save a sufficient amount to pay off the petty amount for which I am locked up. Now, when you go away from me to-day, suppose you go up to my employer's ship-yard, and get him to write a letter to Mr. Wolf. He can say in it that he will employ me again at two dollars a day, and that out of that sum he will retain one half, and pay is over to Mr. Wolf, until all I owe that man is paid off. He will do it, I know he will, and when you come to visit me to-morrow, you can bring the letter with you. Mr. Wolf is not a fool, and he will see at once how much better such a course would be for him, than let me lie and rot here.' I need not tell you, my son, how willingly I complied with your father's wish. It seemed to me so reasonable a proposal, that I had no doubt that it would prove successful, and that your father would soon have his liberty. I went up to the ship-yard, and I had no sooner told the pro- prietor what I desired, than he asked me to take a seat for a moment, and at once wrote the letter and handed it to me, with some kind words which cheered he -up, and the next day at a very early hour I was at the jail, and gave it to your father. When he had read it carefully, ho seemed very much pleased, and turning to me, he said: 'Now, Julie, this is all we want. Do you take it, and go at once to the residence of Mr. Wolf, and for fear of accident, don't deliver it to anybody else but Mr. Wolf himself. Add your entreaties to the letter, and he will arrange for my re- lease.'" "Did you go, my mother ?" "What could I do but go, Clarence. I couldn't bear the idea of then informing your father what an infamous man Mr. Wolf was. Mother could not tell him that all our troubles-and' at least, that his imprisonment was owing to my scornful rejection of his base overtures-and to the beauty which I then possessed and which he loved so much. The thought would have driven him mad. No! and so I went up to Mr. Wolf's house, trusting that heaven would guard and protect Ame while engaged in so holy a work, as endeavoring to procure a husband's liberty, and his retutn to his own house. I found Mr. Wolf at home. He lived in a magnificent dwelling in Broadway. I was shown up to his splendid library, as it was called, and there I found him, and without say- ing a, word I handed him Lfthe letter. He did not even appear to recognize me, at least he did not say a word or even ask me to a seat.- He opened and. read the let- ter very carefully,and with- out-taking his eyes from off the paper. At last he smil- ed, and turning his face to- wards me, he said, 'Ah, - _ _ _Mrs. Bolton, 'I see that I - ----/- /have acted rather too se- verely, but I will soon rem- edy that. By your-coming - __to see me, I find that you are disposed to have peace ....... between us. Your severe language on a certain oca- sion provoked me to resort ~, to more stringent measures - than I usually resort to with my non paying tenants, Now I will alter my determination. You have given me a great deal of .trouble, but now that you have made the first advances, I will meet you half way. I 22 2 CLARENCE BOLTON. FlK F , I 28 will release your husband-not only that, -I will give you a better house to reside in-nearer my own, rent free, and I will farnish it handsomely from top tolasement.' "I was about to bless and thank him for so much goodness, when he interrupted me by saying, 'Wait a moment, I have not yet named the conditions,' and he added, 'I will do this, and perhaps more, but if I do, I will reserve to myself the pleasure of calling and seeing you at your residence, whenever I please, or if it pleases you better-whenever your husband is absent at his work.'- Then I understood him fully, and I spurned him and his base proposal at once. I told him that rather than consent to his infamous wishes, I would starve in the jail with my beloved husband, and then when I saw his calm cold grey eyes fixed upon me, I thought of my poor husband in pris- on, and of you too, my child-for it was only a few days previous to your birth-I sank upon my knees, kissed his hands, and begged and prayed that if he had one human feeling left, that he would pity and give a husband liberty to go home to his wife, and be with her when our first infant should be born." "And what did Mr. Wolf say in reply to that, mother ?" "lie coldly said, 'rise, young woman, you have my -conditions, accept or reject them as you please '-and then I rose and cursed him to his face. I applied every epithet to him disgraceful to a man's name and nature, and then returned to your father in the jail and'told him all. Judge, my son, of my delight when he pressed me in his arms, and said, 'no matter now, love, I am free.' I then noticed that another person was with him, whom I had not before observed. He came for- ward, shook'me cordially by the hand, and your father introduced me to Colonel Vanderhoost.- That evening we were all in this cottage together. i page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] CLARENC9 BOLTON.' CHAPTER Ve CONTENTs-Nia Bolton's relation to Clarence of past events continued-Indignation of Clarence and his determination of avenging injuries received-his anticipation of bright hopes for the future-his course in Columbia Col. lege-his vindication of his rights by personal chastisement to some of the purse-proud students-the res- ident overlooks his conduct and lie becomes a general favorite. VERYTHING about us became pleasant, and for ~ a long time after the release of your father we were happy. Only a few days passed and you were born, and then we felt we had a more pow- erful incentive to exertion Colonel Vander- hoost became a steady friend to us, and was of great service to your father." "Mother, tell me all about Colonel Vander. hoost-who he was, or what was he ?" Il ,"He was a gentleman,. though nominally a merchant. His father was an old resident,' and also a shipping merchant. He had known your father some years previous to the, jail business, but in the interval had been traveling on the continent of Europe. Only a few days after his return he had learned of your father's imprison- ment, and the circumstancep connected with it, when he immediately went to work and obtained' his release by paying my husband's debts. That was not all, he had made arrangements for our continuance in the cottage, from which I had never been forced to leave although it hardly contained anything else but bare walls. Colonel Vanderhoost purchased several hundred dollars worth of furniture and gave it to us. He knew I loved the old place, for the reason that it had been my first home after I married your father, who 'wished me to leave the-spot and no longer re- side in a house owned by so base a proprietor. Colonel Vanderhoost went and hired the house in, his own name of Mr. Wolf, and paid him his rent when due. We had no more to do with Mr. Wolf." "But, mother, what became of Colonel Vanderhoost-is he dead ?" "No, my child, his father failed and. died about the time you was born, and his property was divided between his two children. The Colonel, I believe, spent the most of his, and his sister bet, came the wife of Mr. Robert Gould, consequently he is the uncle of the lady whose life you have saved, and I have no doubt he will be much pleased when he hears of the circumstance." "Indeed, dear mother, I am delighted to hear this' but go on and tell me all aboit him. " Well when the Colonel became reduced, your father, as soon as he heard of it, went and paid him all that he owed him, and then I heard very little about him, as his position in society was very different from ours, and we rarely met, and finally, I suppose, he has forgotten us, as he has never called. I know he is still in the city. He is a noble and kind hearted gentleman, but some- that singular and eccentric." "Did you ever see Mr. Wolf afterward, mother ?" "No, my child; I never have met, him since the interview in the library at his house, but I have frequently heard of him. He sold this house a few months after Colonel Vanderhoost rented it, and after its sale we paid our rent to the present owner. Mr. Wolf is a very wealthy man, and, is surrounded by a numerous family, and his riches are increasing. The good book says that "the ungodly shall flourish like a green bay tree," and therefore Mr. Wolf continues to prosper in this' life." "Mother, you said you wished me to remember Mr. Wolf, when we commenced the conversation ihis evening. You may rest assured I shall do so. I will never forget or forgive him. You have told me enough to show that I have cause to remember him until my dying day. Do you know what I will do, if God spares my life ?" . s- "No, child ; how should I know what you will do, or what reason there is for you doing any- tig. It's all over now--passed and forgotten. Mr. Wolf is not probably aware that we are in xsence-" TA CLARENCE BOLTON. 25, " He will find it out though, before I have done with him. He owes me a debt for all the trouble and anxiety he caused you and my father. God says the sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the children. I will make them feel me before I forgive what has passed. We have suffered,'and they shall suffer. Think, dear mother, that you should have knelt to such a man as you have described, and spurned too! I'll avenge it some day." "You, my son; nonsense! what can you do ?" "He shall kneel to me before he dies; if not him, his children shall! Mother do you remember that poetry which says 'For time at last sets all things even, And if we do but watch the hour, There never yet was human power, Which could evade, if unforgiven, The patient.search and vigil long Of him who treasures up a wrong Now, you will see how true it will prove in this case. I would like to see that Wolf and his young Wolves beggars; but they shall not be confined in the debtor's jail. No, mother, I will be one to qid in erasing that disgraceful law from out of oiur statute book." "(You, Clarence! why, are you going crazy ?" " No; but I have thought about the matter before to-night, and now my mind is made up, Time will show that I can do something. As for that Colonel Vanderhoost, I will seek him out and get acquainted with him. If he is poor, I will give him-" " My dear Clarence, you are getting out of your head! What are you talking about ? We have hardly means'sufficient to keep us from want until you graduate, and only 'so by 4he hardest economy." " That don't make any difference, mother. Then I shall be free, and can work in earnest. I'll make money and acquire power, and then I shall be able to pay off to my heart's content all out- standing debts, even those of gratitude as well as of hate. Now, give me one kiss, motherK, and I will go to my room and prepare myself for recitations to-morrow morning." The mother-kissed her son, bade him good night, and then she sat alone by the fireside and in- dulged in many pleasing as well as painful memories of her previous life, that had long lain asleep in her bosom; then came to cheer her bright, beautiful hopes and visions of happiness for her darling boy, and the comfort and satisfaction which he would call around her declining years; and before she laid down to sleep, she knelt by her bedside and poured forth to the friend of the widow and the orphan her thanks for past blessings, and made humble and fer-vent supplications that He would guide, direct and control, the wild and wayward spirit of her loved child-that he might become in the future a useful member of the human family, and ever prove worthy of the choicest benefits and blessings; and when she had finished her nightly offering, she lay down'to sleep, and dreamed of the husband that had gone before her to another world, leaving her, and his offspring and image, to struggle on unaided in this. The next morning Clarence was up at daybreak, and at the usual hour, in his usual cheerful spirits, took his way down town to the time honored old building where he was receiving his educa- tion. Columbia College appeared at that day different from what it now does. The value of property had not then offered such inducements as it has since done, to surround it and hedge it in with stores, houses and hotels, We hate in a previous chapter merely alluded to the fact that Clarence was a student at Colum- bia College, but there are pome circumstances connected with his entering that old building as a student that are so creditable to a certain class of this community, that we will mention them. In the Ward, where the widow and her son resided, their history, or rather, the history of Edward Bolton and his wife was as well known as their faces. All'his associates and the ship me- chanics in that part of the town were conversant with the details.. They respected and liked him; his sudden death caused them heartfelt sorrow, and they sympathized deeply witj his little family. There was a warm interest excited in their hearts for the two survivors, and more par- ticularly towards the son, and " Ned Bolton's son," as they designated him, had. as many sincere~ friends in the class he was born and brought up amongst, as ever his father had. By the assis- tance of these worthy men and their families, the limited resources of Mrs. Bolton and her son were made to last a long time. They aided them in a hundred delicate modes, and when Clarence arrived at the age when he could enter College, many of them got together and subscribed a certain amount towards paying the expenses of Clarence while in College, This amounted to several hun. page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] CLARENCE BOLTON. dred dollars. The subscribers would have given it to'her for the use of the boy, out and out, but the widow had an independent spirit, and she would not listen to so generous a proposition, and Ireftised to receive or use the sum unless they would give it to her as a loan, to be repaid with in.- terest at some future day. The parties consented that it should be so understood, and then the. widow received the money; but used it as sparingly and carefully as if she expected every day to be called upon to return it. With the boys of his own age--his companions and playmates in the Ward where he resided- young Bolton was a general favorite both before and after entering College. He was a leader in all their amusements, and frequently li their boyish battles. When he was placed in College, it took some time before he became at home or made much headway in getting into the good graces of the other students, his new associated. Many of the young hopefuls, who had rich parents or strong connexions, took it into their heads that he was a mere nobody, and fastened upon him as a most fit and.proper subject to become their butt and sport, and they were not long in -commen- cing operations upon him. Clarence bore with all their insults and petty annoyances for some time, and regarded one of their epithets 6f "the mechanic's boy" as rather complimentary than otherwise, and did not reply or take any notice of their ill manners. At last his patience became exhausted; he could stand it no longer, and determined to put an end at once to the business, as he found the more he submitted the more he was obliged to bear. Accordingly, the very first opportunity that offered, after he had made up his mind to settle the matter by defining his true position, he Availed himself' of it. The whole class were out on the green in front of the College during recess, amusing themselves in various ways. Clarence requested some of them to hear a few words he had to say. They complied with his request, thinking that he was going to afford them some additional sport. , He did; but very different sport from what they expected. He made his speech, and as it was his first public address we give it entire: " My fine fellows, I want to have a general understanding with you, as some particular indivi- duals, that I shall name, - don't seent to be very well acquainted with me. Now, this state of things shall not last any longer if I can help it, and I rather reckon I can. I have been most grossly insulted, and I will put up with it no longer. I should be ashamed of myself were I to do so. Now, I want some of the largest boys in the class to just step out. You, Ned Rutgers, Charley Mason and Fred. Jbnes, you have each ofyou ridiculed and made fun of me, and had it all your own way. Now I intend to enjoy a little fun myself. You are a great deal bigger than I am, and yet I am going to give each of you a sound thrashing, or get one myself. You are a low bred set of puppies, bullies, and I honestly believe cowards; and if you are not, now is tho 3F time to prove it. After I have finished you, if there is any other young gentleman who wants to take a round with me, I am his man and will accommodate him." No sooner did Clarence finish this pithy address, which rather astonished some of the bloods, than le was cheered by a dozen at least of the younger students, who had been tyrannized over by the three larger students whom Clarence had designated by name. They on their parts were taken aback, and for a few moments did not open their lips; at last the largest of the three, Charles Mason, advanced towards Clarence, and holding his fist near the face of his daring challenger, observed, "Why ypu unlicked cub, what are you'talking about ? Pll-" Mr. Mason did not' have time to say what he would do, for before he had finished his sentence a well directed blow from Clarence's mus- cular arm laid him out, he recovered his feet very ra- pidly, but only to befetch- ed again, and again. When the other two boys saw LZM how their companion was treated they interfered, but Clarence's blood was now up, and before five minutes had passed the - trio had received as sound and wholesome a thrash- ing from Clarence's cast iron fists as they needed and were perfectly satis- fied. The other boys cheer- ed, but Clarence did not wait to receive their con- gratulations. No sooner had victory declared in his ~ favor, than he left the groupe, went directly to the president of the College, told him what had occurred, and asked him if he should resign and quit college, or what punishment he would inflict upon him. The Presi- dent was much pleased at the bold, off-hand manner in which Clarence had acted, and he direct- ed him to go to his studies, and then made enquiry into the facts from other students. They con- firmed all that Clarence had stated, and he concluded that he would overlook the matter. Clar- ence became a lion, and was never afterward insulted, and never had another fight while in Col. lege. Even the large students discovered that he carried to many guns for any one of them singly, and were very glad to let him alone. As for Clarence he loved excitement, and if a part of his collegiate career had consisted in partaking of a regular built fight on the College green every day of his life, (except Sundays,) nothing would have suited him better-he would have been perfectly delighted, not that he wasof a quarrelsome disposition; on the contrary, he had a most .amiable temper and a kind heart, but he regarded the exercise as exceedingly healthy, and well calculated to develope his physical ability and relieve the effects of a too close attention to his studies. His preparatory for 'such an amusement had been finished in his earlier career, and the well fed sons of wealthy merchants and aristocratic fatnilies would have stood a small chance of coming off conquerors in a fight with a rough and tumble "go in and win" ship carpenter's son. Clarence was a good student, in fact' he had thus fa;r proved himself the best student in the College. He - had taken the lead from the commencement of his college career--had won!the gold medal, and was at the head of his class at the close of every college year up to the time when he is introduced into our story. In a few weeks he was to graduate. -He had become a general favorite with the professors and tutors, who saw in him every evidence of genius and ability. He had been enabled during the last year to earn some money by devoting a portion of his time each day to giving pri- vate lessons to other students, who had fears of 'not being able to pass creditably their examina- tions, unless they received assistance in their studies outside of the College walls. Clarence had also written many articles for the local newspaper press, and though he had not as yet written for pay, his articles always were published accompanied by flatter-ing notices from the editor. 26 2M7 CLARENCE BOLTONI page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 CLARENCE BOLTON. CHAPTER VI. CONTENXs-Fanny Gould the daughter of the rich broker-Clarence meets her for the first time since the accident on the ferry boat-their conversation-Clarence introduced to Colonel Vanderhoost-his endeavors to show grati- tude for past services-the dog Beppo-Col. Vanderhoost pleased with Clarence and determines to give him his assistance. ANNY GOULD, the daughter of the rich broker, has not been lost sight of, although we have had to leave her for a time, in order to say a few words in reference to some of the other principal characters of our story. On her return home, after the ferry boat adventure, she was very closely questioned by her parents in reference to what had passed between her and Clarence, but. she had very little to say, and was distressed at the manner in which the young lad who had saved her from drowning had been treated by her parents, particularly by her father. He wished to forget the whole affair. The result was less disagreeable to him than if his daugh- ter had been drowned. Then there would have been a coroner's verdict, and his name would have got in the newspapers in connection with an unpleasant transaction. As things had turned up, his daughter had been saved by some un- knowr. person, who probably would never be heard of again. Several days passed, and the subject was not alluded to in that family circle. Clarence meanwhile was 'closely pursuing his studies, and heard no more of Fanny or her pa- rents, and made his daily visits to the College as if nothing had transpired. He did not even mention the circumstance to any of his friends. He was returning from the college about a week after the rescue, and had just turned the corner of Park Place and Broadway when he met two young school girls. The thought had barely crossed his brain that he had seen them somewhere before, when one of them stopped and accosted him with the simple question "Ain't you Clarence?" Then he knew her at once, and as he took her hand he replied, "Indeed I am, and you are Fanny, with whom I had such a pleasant time in the North River last week. I am right glad to see you, and I hope the immersion has not caused you to be ill." "1Oh, no, indeed," she replied, "I am as well as I ever was, and right glad to see you, Do you know I thought I should never see you again? Don't you remember my sister Lydia? This is her." "I had not forgotten either yourself or her; but I was much surprised to meet you, in fact I did not know you at first. I remember very well seeing your sister on the ferry boat before you got overboard. Which way are you walking ?" "!We have just returned from school, gnd are going directly home. Which way are you going ?" "I am going home, too, and I have also just left school." "1Why do you go to school ?"" "1Something like it. I am a student at Columhia College, and sh'll be for afew weeks longer, and then I shall graduate." "I am very glad to hear it. How much you must know; but we girls don't have such a quan- tity of books, and such puzzling stuff to study as you do. Were you angry with my father? I am sure you were." Clarence gazed steadily at the little maid for a moment ere a isai le ally reply to her last obser- vation, and then he quietly observed, ' Men, like your father, Miss .anny, entertain some strange ideas of their fellow plan. I was not angry with him, although I felt hurt at his rudeness, when I had done nothing but render him most essential service, as I supposed. I excused him, thinking - that perhaps he was not desirous of having his daughter become aceuainted with a young person of whom he knew nothing. Your bright smile at meeting me to-day was quite sufficient to do sway with ill resentment towards him " CLARENCE BOLTON. Oh, I am so glad of that. Yod will be acquainted with me, will you not? I mean, you will come and see us at home, and get acquainted with my mother ?" "Really, Miss Fanny, you are very kind, but I don't see very well how I can comply with your invitation. Your father has not yet invited me to his house, and after what has occurred I can- not very well call there consistently with my own ideas of self.respect." " How sorry I am; but then wont I see you every day? I go to school every day in the week, except Saturday, and we shall assuredly meet in the street, and then you can take a long walk .with me and sister Lydia." "I suppose we shall meet occasionally, and whenever I do meet you and your sister, I shall stop and speak to you. You, at least, will not think me impudent ?" "Impudent ? Certainly not. I cannot forget that you saved my life, when nobody else seemed to care about me. I Want you to speak to me. I like you better than anybody else that I ever saw, besides, what a horrid ungratefulgirl I should be if I did not like you; but here comes ny uncle, Colonel Vanderhoost." "Colonel Vanderhoost !" exclaimed Clarence, and memory instantly recalled the story of his mother; whichh is him ?" "That gentleman coming towards us with the little cane in his hand. He almost always ineets and goes home with us. He is mother's brother and our beaux." The Colonel joined them, and Fanny introduced Clar- ence to him. "Now, dear uncle, you must like Mr.' Bolton; he saved my life when I fell overboard, which I told you,. all about," said little'Fan- ny, and added, "You know how my father has treated -him." "My dear, brave young. ster," exclaimed the Colonel, "I am perfectly delighted to meet with you; in fact, I have been looking for you ever since I heard of your gallant adventure, I am prepared to like you, if for no other reason than that my brother-in-law and the father of these darling little girls Jas behaved very shabby towards you. Never mind him. Ile is only a cop." "Colonel," replied Clarence, "'1 am very much obliged to you for your kliidness. Myname is Bolton. Do you not recollect the name ?" "Bolton? to be sure I do! but-let me take another look at you, young man. Is itpossible that you are the son of an old friend of mine-a most deserving man of that name ?" S"I am his son, and I have been very anxious for some days past to see and converse with you. It is only recently that I have learned front my mother's lips how deep are the obligations I owe to you." " Oh, never mind that. Is your mother still alive ? I have had such trouble of late years my- self that I hardly had time to look after anything else than my own immediate business, I must know all about you before we part." - . " When we have seen these young ladies home, I should like very mich to have-a few mo- ments conversation with you, if you have no objections ?" " None in the world. On the contrary, as I said before, I am delighted to meet you. By the way, when we reach the end of Broadway, as these young ladies live in the Bowling Green Row, you had better let me see them to their own door, and you can amuse yourself onwthe Battery uin- til I join you. .You understand the reason." Ilk I xx, page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 80 CLARENCE BOLTON. "Certainly," replied Clarence. Fanny was surprised at all this, and as Clarence was about leaving them, she said, "Why, you two"gentlemen seem to be very well acquainted, and to know all about each other and want to get rid of Sis. and me as speedily as possible. Well, never mind, Lam very glad you are acquainted." Clarence bade the party "good afternoon," and was about leaving, when Fanny remarked: "Remember, Mr. Clarence, we leave our home in the Row every morning at half-past eight, to go to school, and return at three. Don't fail to meet us as soon as you can. Good-bye." "I'll remember. Now, good-bye to both yourself and little sister." "You are a nice little puss for your age, Fan.," said Col. V., after Clarence was out of hearing. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Only thirteen years old, and-" "And what, uncle ?" Why, making an, appointment with that young fellow !" "I ?-it's no such thing. Papa won't let him come to our house, and I was only telling him when he could see me in the street, if he cares about seeing me." "You are a grateful and good little girl, Fan., and I will assist you. Before a month has pass- ed, your amiable father shall invite him to the house, or my name is not William Vanderhoost. He is a fine noble fellow. Sis., you are a great pet of mine, and I am very fond of you. That young Bolton is the son of an old friend; his father is dead, and I am bound in honor to see what I can make of him. He has commenced his acquaintance by saving your life, and-" "What, dear uncle, go on, and what ?' "And you are at home. Now run into thehouse, little girls, and when you see your Ma, tell her that Colonel Vanderhoost, her brother, called.- Bye bye."1 The sisters replied with "good-bye, dear uncle," and entered their father's-mansion. The Colonel passed out of the little iron gate of the grass plot in front of those Bowling Green resi- dences, and followed Clarence Bolton to the Battery. After walking a short'distance, he discovered the young student seated upon one of the benches, and immediately went to him. As the Colonel approached, Clarence rose, and with considerable emotion, began the conversation, very much to the surprise of the Colonel, in this fashion: "1Colonel Vanderhoost! there is no man living whom I have so much desired to see as yourself for several days. It was only a few days ago that my mother, when narrating to me some im- portant events in her history, made me aware of the debt of gratitude I owe you. I.will never forget. it while I live." " Bless your heart, my dear boy, you are making a mountain out of a molehill. I only did what every man placed aal was should have done. Your father was a noble-hearted man. I never have found a great many like him, and your mother too was a most estimable person. How is her health ?" "She does not enjoy good health; but is generally very comfortable. We live very retired. She told me, sir, all the details of the conduct of a Mr. Wolf." " Of old Wolf, did she? Well he is a bird! Lucky devil, although he is a precious old rascal- at heart. But never mind him, he is only a cop." "My mother informed me how kind and how generously you behaved in rescuing my 'father from that Wolf'sfangs." "Wolf'sfangs? Come, now, that ain't bad for a new beginner! I must tell that at the Club. Never mind what I did then, my boy. I was abundantly able to do it, and if it was a good action, so much the better for me : It-may serve to balance some of my foolish ones in days that are gone by. Let me take another look at.you. There is no mistake about it, you are Edward Bolton's living image. Genteel, black eyes and hair, white teeth, slim pale face-Clarence, you will do! [, Colonel Vanderhoost, say so. I'll make something out of you-time-time. How old are you ?" "About seventeen." " Seventeen now, and that will make you twenty one when you are four years older, according to Dabol1. What else have you got to say for yourself?" " Nothing, my dear sir, save to again reiterate my expressions of gratitude for what passed before I was born." "Not a word about that. Let-it all pass. Never look backward. Take care of the future." " I do Colonel, and it is to the future that I look for the means of showing you how I regard you." CLARENCE BOLTON. 31 "That you can easily do. I already feel interested in you. I did so when I heard of your ad- venture, for until to-day I was not aware who you really were. Now I feel an additional interest to what I felt before. How are you and your mother off for the mopusses?" " For what ?" " Money." " We are comfortable. That is, we don't want for anything." " I am glad to hear that, for when you do, you may rely on me. Now tell me something more about yourself." By a series of-well directed questions, which were promptly and faithfully replied to by Clar- ence, the Colonel obtained from that young gentleman every event of importance that had occur- red to him or his mother since the decease of his father. When he had finished, by saying that in a few days he should graduate from the College, the Colonel asked this question- " Well, and when you are fledged, what is to be your first fly ?" "I don't know yet," replied Clarence. "Our funds will be about used up then, and I shall have to do something by which I can gt a livelihood for myself and support my mother." "That's it; you must do something to earn money. That is the necessary earthly god of us poor devils on earth. What have you got to do to-morrow evening ?" 'Nothing very particular, except to study niy lessons." "That's all right. Do you know where Delmonico lives'?" "I do not." "It is in William street, near Beaver. Meet me there to-morrow afternoon to dine with me at five o'clock precisely. After dinner we will talk on matters and things in general and your own prospects in particular. By the way, what has become of that Newfoundland dog you had in the water with you when you fished out little Fanny Gould ?" "Beppo? He is at home." "What a queer old prig her papa is'! Never mind him; he is only a cop. The mother is some- body, for she is my sister. I am bringing up that child. We'will talk about that after dinner to- morrow. You will be here at the time, of course ?" 1 W jz e 13 P4 page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] CLARENCE BOLTON. " Certainly; I will, sir, if I am alive and nothing happens." " Can't you bring Beppo along too ? Will you sell that dog for a good round price ?" "Sell Beppo ? No, sir! Why should I sell him ?" That's your business.' If you would sell him, I will find you a purchaser who should pay you a good round price for the animal. Old Gould shall give you five hundred dollars for him." " And the old Buster shouldn't have him for five thousand!" " Old Buster! My brother-in-law ! I like that." "I beg your pardon, but he has- " "Nonsense. I like your spirit; he is a - old beast, if he is my relative by marriage. But suppose my niece, Fanny, became the real owner ?" "Fanny? If it was for her, I wouldn't sell Beppo, I might give him to her. But then, my moth- er *ould be left lonesome but for Bep." " Good boy; always think of your mother. Still, I'll make old Gould buy the dog to present to Fanny, and I'll make the arrangement so that the deg can spend most of his time with your moth er, if she likes, which he will very likely do. Willthat suit you? Now tell me when are you to graduate ?" "In about two moiiths." "Don't fail to be punctual at Delmonico's to-morrow. It will be for your interest to meet me' and then you will see a dinner, what I, Colonel Vanderhoost, call a dinner; until then, good bye.- Clarence left the Battery for his mother's home; and when the Colonel was alone he mused for a long time. " That young chap is game," thought lie to hingelf. "Got it from his mother. He will succeed eventually. It's in him. He wants a friend--somebody that can and will teach him. I will be that friend, and take him in hand, and if I am not greatly deceived, he will turn up a trump? I must polish him a little, and then introduce him favorably into my brother-in-law's set. Egad, I am in luck. I have got somebody to care for now. I shall have something else to think about besides that infernal Custom House." CHAPTER VII. CONTENTS-Custom House ofieers-a brief history of Colonel Vanderhoost, as a merchant, his military career, his travels in Eur ope carene oe-Clarncefulfils his appointment with Colonel Vanderhoost-they dine together, by wvhich Clarence learns something. OVERNMENT officers, or Cu tom House officers, __ - 'as they now generally denominate that class of our patriotic citizens who devote their attention to the revenue interests of the country, and.- ~ their own, were'more respected thirty years ago than they are now. These situations are now given as a reward for partizan service, but in those days they were bestowed for more patriotic service, or given to broken down merchants, or to men eminently qualified to perform the pecu- liar duties which were allotted to them. It was 1 a good rule, and the country would be benefitted N C if it were adhered to now. Elections would pos- sess less interest and excitement, qnd thousands of our good citizens who are eager for office, would be quietly minding their legitimate busi- ness, or the pursuits or professions they hafirst, adopted, for luckily ve have not yet arrived at that stage in 'orruption when children and youth are born and educated to be recipients of Custom House emoluments. Col. Vanderhoost, as we have before stated, held a situation in the Custom House. His salary was comfortable, being $1,500 per annum. He was a broken down man of fortune, and a fair sam- ple of that unfortunate class. His history was the history of hundreds in this community. . He was of the pure Knickerbocker breed. In early life he inherited the estate, but not the frugal, economical habits of, his forefathers. At the time he met with Clarence Bolton, he was about forty-five years of age. His father was an eminent merchant, and it was out of regard to him that the then Collector of the port gave to the Colonel an appointment. Old Mr. Vanderhoost, his father, commenced business -soon after the revolution, and had his counting house and store in Bridge street, near Whitehall. He was many years eminent as a merchant, stood at the head of that class, his credit was undoubted, and his standing-on 'Change was A No. 1 He gave his son a collegiate education, and when he was of age took him into his counting room to make a mer- chant of him. This was no easy matter, as the young Vanderhoost was very strongly inclined to shine as a man of fashion, and, did not exhibit the slightest satisfaction with the plodding course hisfather had chosen for him. The wealth of his father, and hie own fair prospects, gave him the en tr to every circle of society. He was a young man who had lots of money to spend, and as a very natural consequence, he found numberless friends among both sexes. This did not leave him much time to familiarize his mind with the details of counting house life, or to acquire the O experience necessary to conduct the business of his father with success. When war broke out be- tween this country and Great Britain, in 1812,.young Vanderhoost held a colonel's commission in that gallant body of soldiers then'(and now) known-as the New York Militia. He was a popular colonel, and had been a man of war from Itis youth upwards, and like many aspiring youths of the present day, he was ambitious of acquiring military renown and glory, but preferred to do so in the timeof peace, not that the Colonel was a coward. No, no, There is no doubt that he Would have led his regiment anywhere when war was declared, if it had been ordered there; but unfortunately his destiny was not to earn distinction in the-glory line, as his command was never ordered further out of town than Yorkville. However, there was no mistake about it, Colonel Vanderhoost was a legitimate Colonel, and-earned his distinction during ethe war, Of course, for the time being he belonged to the regular army, and in after years the government republicss are not always ungratefull) rewarded him, when he stood in need of ifeward, by giving him a plaoe as Inspector of the Cusf6ma.- When peace was proclaimed the Colonel resigned. Soon after, there was to be a gehieral meeting of European warriors in London. Napoleon had been whipped out at' 6 82 * 88 CLARENCE DOLTON. page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] V I, 84 'CLARENCE BOLTON. Waterloo, and shipped off to St. Helena. Peace was ensured, and the great warriors of the allied armies were shaking hands and hobnobbing in Paris and London, and our American Colonel deter. mined to go abroad and see some of the fun. Old Mr. Vanderhoost consented, and as a prepara- tory, took his son William into partnership, and when the Colonel took his departure for Europe,- he carried with him to his father's correspondents and bankers in London, Paris, and other places and ports, letters announcing the fact. He remained abroad just two years, when he returned home, having left the pleasing impression in every part of Europe which he had visited during his absence, that he was a noble hearted, generous, and liberal American gentleman, and so he was. His father was convinced of his liberality, for the Colonel's trip had cost him rising of $60,000, and the business he had procured was not worth sixty cents. The acquaintances the Colonel had cul-, tivated were not'of a commercial kind, and never consigned merchandise tq this country. But that didn't matter much, the Colonel returned a polished gentleman, and immediately took the lead in the highest circle of fashion, and kept it for years, even after he had become comparatively poor. 'He was kind-hearted, honorable and generous, and possessed many noble and redeeming qualities. It was immediately after his return that he redeemed Edward Bolton from prison, and rEstored him to his wife, and entitled himself to the lasting gratitude of Clarence, when he was old enough to be made acquainted with the circumstance. . Some few years after his lather's commer- cial firm became bankrupt, and he was a ruined.-man. The affairs were finally settled, and the old Vanderhoost retained a house and soine real estate, which when he died, he left to his two chil- dren. The Colonel had nearly run through his share; but his sister's, which consisted of the real estate, remained in her hands, and eventually became of much value. It was this fact, and the 'respectability of the family, that led the broker, Mr. Gould, to secure her for his wife. When the Colonel received an appointment in the Custom House, his financial embarrassments were at an end. This is a mere outline of the Colonel's career. He had become a philosopher, and lived like one. At the time Clarence became acquainted with him he had apartments in Franklin square, in what was known as the Old Walton House. What citizen or stranger has ever passed through Franklin Square, without gazing with interest on an " antiquated, large, three-story edi- fice, built in the English baronial style of the last century? It is called the "Walton House," be- WI cause it was erected by an aristo- N cratical Englishman of that name, Dearly a century ago, and has ever 5 since remained in the family. The entrance hall is in the centre of the M- building, with large, old.fashion- ed, parlors and drawing-rooms on each side. The portal is in fine a keeping with the style of architee- ture, which then distinguished-the English patricians from the ple- beians. The portico is supported by two ___ fluted columns, and surmounted with the armorial bearings of the Walton family, richly carved and ornamented ; but, like all insignia of nobility on this side the Atlantic, somewhat the worse for wear. Were we conversant with the technics of heraldry, these arms should be described, but being totally ignorant of the mysteries of that profound science, we are not competent to the task. In this house the Colonel retained a parlor and sleeping room, iAnd lived in the most orthodox bachelor style. An old negro servant, who had lived with him in his palmys days, attended 'to the boot-blacking department ; and a chambermaid, belonging to the family who occupied the man- sion, attended to the arranging of his rooms. The Colonel's meals he procured where it suited him, but generally they were obtained from the celebrated French Restaurant kept by Delmonico 'in CLARENCE BOLTON. 85 William street. The Colonel was a great hand at dining out, and as he had many wealthy friends who were always anxious for his society at dinner, he managed to economize to a great extent in his weekly expenses, by retaining merely rooms. He lived in every respect as an independent but reduced gentleman can always live in this town. His self-respect, the consciousness of who and what he was and -had been, both by birth, education and experience, never deserted him; he maintained his position in the fashionable world, took his drinks at Washington Hall, where Stew- arts great store now stands, and was one of the best players of that originally fashionable gam- bling house, where many of our most promising young men took their first lesson in an accomplish- ment which led to their ultimate ruin. That Washington.Hall sett was the parent of many other setts or clubs, that have since flourished in our town. His word, wherever he moved, was law and gospel. He was the dread of parvenues, whom he detested and hated with most unchristian. like devotion. The Colonel was really delighted with Clarence. He saw at a glance that he possessed uncom- mon cleverness and talent. He had been the friend of the father, and felt that this circumstance gave a sort of claim upon him to the young lad, which he wAs most ready to acknowledge, and take the young fellow by the hand and place him under his special protection. There was another and a very strong motive in the bosom of Colonel Vanderhoost, which prompted him to take such a step. It was this: he wanted. some reasonable being to love; some one that he could feel an in- terest in; some youth to excite him; in a word, one in whom he could live over his life again; and Clarence was precisely the one he wanted. Before he went to sleep on the night following his meeting with Clarence, his mind was made up, and he had determined what course. he would pur- sue in the matter. He wculd to a certain extent adopt that young man, and act towards him as if he was his own son. aI will.finish hiseducation for the world. I will bring him out, polish him, and as he goes along the every day road of life, I will point out to him where to make a hit, and where not to attempt it; and," reasoned the Colonel, "if his future career for a few years should justify my expectations, I will leave him my property." Laugh not, dear reader, for we must tell you that the friendship of a man, who has traveled for years on the various roads of the world, who is acquainted with them, who knows the distances the halting places, the turnings in and out, the gates, the bridges, the mile-stones, and the guide posts; and who has acquired this knowledge at a costly price, and from actual experience, can be of more service to a young and talented lad, just merging into early manhood and putting his foot into the great world, is worth a dozen fortunes, or a score of rich relations and friends. Colonel Vanderhoost was in earnest in the matter. He knew the world, its weak points,.and felt .perfectly confident that he would take that unlicked cub, (as he called Clarence,) and mould him into almost any shape he pleased; carve out for him just such a career as he wished ; guide him into the same avenue to fortune and power, as he himself would pursue, if he could drop a score and a half of years, and go back to early manhood. The Colonel did not sleep well that night; his mind was full of the new subject, and tormented with the fear that at the meeting the next dgy, something would turn up that would frustrate all his plans-that he might have formed too -0 high an estimate of the abilities of the youth, and that a few hours more of personal acquaintance, would prove him to be made of stuff not worth meddling with. Then he reasoned'that if he found Clarence to be worth trying his hand upon, he should have innumerable new things to do at once. He thought seriously over what he should say to Clarence when they would meet at dinner, and then, too, there was the mother of Clarence, what would she think or say of his plans? Strange as it may appear, Colonel Vanderhoost, a perfect man of the world, one that'could create a sensa- tion in a ball room by his entrance, or upset a fashionable party by laughing atthe jelly, sneering at the ice cream and pronouncing it "not the thing," was anxious about what he should say or do at a dinner, with a mere boy! But so it was, and it was some hours ere he decided what was to be done. He knew that the boy was kind and grateful; but the Colonel had his own Weak points. He felt the value of first impressions upon that lad's mind. He knew that unless at the fstserious interview, he could inspire Clarence with a full sense of his (the Colonel's) superiority no only to himself, but to everybody he had yet met with, that his labor would be lost. At last, he had it all arranged satisfactorily in his own mind as to what was to be done, and then ho put. on hs silk night cap, went to bed, slept, and dreamed of his own past and mistaken career, and tath was Clarence-that he had been born again. q page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 86 .CLARENCE BOLTON. In the afternoon when Clarence left Colonel Vanderhoost upon the Battery, he went home to the residence of his mother. After he had ate his bread and milk supper, he narrated to her the events of the day, and then sat himself-down to his books, and studied away at them until long after midnight. The ensuing day, after College hours had passed, he went down town to Delmonico's long before the'appointed hour of five, fearful lest he should disappoint the Colonel. It was the first time that he had ever been inside of that celebrated French Restaurant; and, when he had taken his seat inside of the drawing room, where he awaited the arrival of the Colonel, he watched the movements of the assorted congregation of diners, who were getting their dinners at the innumera- ble small tables, with undisguised astonishment. He was in his element too; for, with the lan- guage in which the orders were given, he was as familiar as with his own tongue. He had ac- quired a perfect knowledge of the French from his grandmother, who never conversed with him in any other language but that, and for the very excellent reason, that she did not understand any other. Precisely at five Colonel Vanderhoost arrived, and saluted Clarence in the most cordial and friendly manner, and made a decided impression at the sane time upon the mind of Clarence, by the dignified bearing which he assumed. "So, Clarence," said he, "you are watching the canaille take their feed? But come, let's leave these animals to their own pasture, and go up to a private room, where we can dine by our. selves. Gargon, show me my dining room," added the Colonel, addressing one of the numerous waiters. Clarence complied, and while they were following the waiter to another apartment, he did feel an increased respect for the Colonel, and the latter gentleman was not slow in perceiving it. InIthe-room-to which they were taken, there was a table spread and covers arranged for two persons, and only two: Clarence admiired the Colonel still more. He was not aware that he had been there before, and ordered 'everything arranged just as Clarence found- it. 'When they had taken their seats, Clarence began to feel nervous and fearful lest he should make some blunder, and astonish the Colonel by his awkwardness ; for he had never dined out before. The tColonel saw his ruse was operating, and was satisfied. He had dined young men before, but when lhe had done so inl former days, it was because they had money, and he had designs'of his own, .and the young men paid pretty dearly for the dinner and the honor of being on dining terms with CLARENCE BOLTON. so fashionable a man as Colonel Vanderhoost; but now, for the first time in many years, the * Colonel had a love dinner. He was training, or rather, he was about to prepare a young man to be trained, because he liked him, and wished to have him succeed in life, and be an honor to his own handiwork; and as they sat at the table, and he regarded the noble, bearing, the manly fea- tui'es, the piercing eyes, and marked character of his young friend, he began to feel a new sort of parental pride, and inwardly determined that it should be no fault of his, if the lad Clarence did not make a sensation in New York before he died. "Now, my boy," said the Colonel, " make yourself perfectly at home. Here comes the gareon with the soup. Always eat soup before you make your regular dinner. I learned that in Paris some years ago. . Every gentleman uses soup for his dinner when he can get it. Remember that." Clarence said he would try to do so. "That's all right. I have got good news for you, Master Clarence-keep on swallowing your soup-only listen. I have seen your friend, old Gould, Fanny's father. Do you know, master Clarence, that I think that little girl is rather fond of you ? Of course she is; you saved her life,' and she ought to be; but as for her father, coin him, he is only a cop. What do you think he said about you ?" Clarence was taken all aback, andmerely replied that he did not know. "Wants you to come and dine with him to-morrow." "Me, sir?" replied the bewildered lad. "Why, what on eArth has changed his opinion? It was only a few days ago that he treated me worse than he did my dog Beppo. What does he want now ?" "Wants you to come and dine with him. He changed his opinion of your merits whenI in- formed him that you was a friend of William Vaaderhoost's. Qargon, remove the potage and the dirty plates, and bring up the next course. Clarence,-what wine-do you prefer ?" "Me, sir! None at all; I never drink it. I'll take a glass,of milk." "Milk !" Milk, I think you said? Clarence, my dear boy, gentlemen never drink milk; it's the nourishment for babes and country people. Delmonico don't keep anything of that sort in his house. Try oome kind of wine. Garcon, bring me up a bottle of Chateau Margeau, the very best. You must try that, Clarence, with a little water. I must bring .you on, by degrees, and induct you gradually. I 87 I page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] CLARENCE BOLTON. CLARENCE BOLTON. 4 CHAPTER VIII, CONTENTS-The dinner-Clarence accepts the invitation to dine with Mr. Gould--Colonel 'Vandeiho6st's description of the different kiijdis of blood with an illustration -le visits tho mother of Clarence--plate, dog Beppo--shows his lntereot in the welfare of, and his advice to, Clarence. AVING been obliged to close the last chapter' abruptly, we left Colonel Vanderhoost and Clar- ence chatting very cosily while dining together in a room at Delmonicos. In reply to the obser- vation of the Colonel that he should order some claret, Clarence said he was contented to drink -Ol that or anything else the Colonel preferred, and asked with apparent interest, "Did Mr. Gould really ask me to come and dine with him ?" "To be sure he did. It was rather imperti- nent in him, was it not? But then he is only a b. -cop, and don't know what's what; but as I thought you rather liked my pretty niece, Itold - - - him I wonlg try to persuade you to accept the invite. I patronise him altogether on account of his wife, she being, as you are aware, my sis- ter. She has blood. By the way, do you under- stand perfectly what blood means ?" Clarence was struck dumb; the idea that it was a piece of impertinence on the part of the rich broker to ask him to dine with him was a novel one. The Colonel knew that he had made one of his points, and waited a moment for Clarence to reply, and as he did not do so, he continued: 4 Tell me first whether you will accept the invitation to dine with Mr. Gould? If you feel at all doubtful as to its compromising you to do so, have no scruples to tell me as your best friend of it, and I may as well tell you that there is no particular harm in it, The world understands these things properly. When a gentleman both by birth and education, who happens to be poor, asso- ciates with a cop, or a man who has merely money, dines with him, goes to his parties, and speaks to him in1thestreet, everybody knows that the object of the one is to add to his own stock of respec- tability and character by associating with a gentleman who has both, while the other in very wil- ling to extend his patronage for a good dinner, which his limited means perhaps don't often allow him to enjoy; and a rich broker will frequently loan money under these circumstances, Which of course it is understood he never expects to get back again. These are mere trifles, but it is well that you should know them." Clarence simply replied, "thank you, Colonel, for procuring me the invitation. I will accept it with the greatest pleasure, although I shall feel awkward, for I never have been to great men's houses often." Rich men! Cops, Clarence; don't call them gentlemen. There is a wide distinction. It is as hard in this country for z rich man to be a great man as it is supposed generally to be-that they should inherit the kingdom of heaven. Now then, answer my question, do you understan&,the meaning of blood as used in general society ?" "Candidly, Colonel, I do not suppose I do. I k'now what blood is, but probably.not the mean- ing you apply to the word. What is your explanation ? Are there different kinds of blood? "Most unquestionably. There are several kinds of blood. There is good and bad blood, and one can tell the class to which a man 'belongs, as certainly by one look at him, as he can at a horse. It runs in families. Some men will rise above their early position, no matter where you' place them. You can see it in their childhood or boyhood. Their eyes, the contour of their face, all betray the nobility of soul that is enshrined in the body, no matter whether it is covered with rags, or not. I can tell the probable fate of a ragged boy in the street, or one in the 'parlor of the richest merchant. They have the same characteristic marks ad a horse. You have heard of horse jockeys of course ? Well, let me tell you there are as good man jockeys in this town, and I profess to be one, and I flatter myself that I cannot often be deceived. Now, look into it yourself, Clarence. You have good blood: no one need look at you twice to see ,that. Your mother was 89 descended from an old foreign stock-French, but good; your father ws of the pilgrim breed.- 9 common, but good. He was only a carpenter, andyet you may be President of this country. You will succeed, and besomebody. You have got it in you, and it's in the blood. Now, I can go into families here who have wealth, I will pick out their children, and in nine cases out of ten, they will all be snobs, nobodys. They may have money, become rich, but. they will never make men of any calibre or great usefulness ; and the chances are, that when they have squandered what wealth their fathers leave 'when they die, that they will go into the gutter where they belong. They have got no blood to keep them up. I am as poor as Job's turkey, but I have got blood, I am Dutch. I can trace back my descent beyond the Revolution-back behind that to the days of old Peter Stuy vesent, and still mote remote, to the early emigre ation of my ancestors from Holland, when Nbw York was first discovered. I respect myself. Blood is blood, while its alive. Money is money, and it's nothing else: It ain't blood. Anybody can have money, but they can't have good blood. Brokers like Gould can have money, but they will always be mere cops. They have nothing running in their veins but colored water; it ain't blood; it's absolution of aqua and the root of all evil: but it'will keep a man alive in this town, and make him respected by the great majority of people, who merely look at the surface of things. Now, I will illustrate iit by giving you a design. Lend me your pencil. I've got an old letter about me, and I will draw you two horses and two men, and show you what I mean." The Colonel proceeded to draw a sketch, while Clarence remained silent. When it was finished, he passed it across the table to his young admirer. "There, Clarence, just look at the points of the two and the four footed animals. You see a young man inrags, and another one in fine clothes and dressed to the top of the fashions. One has the stamp of God about him; the other, the stamp of a tailor. Note that, and then look at the other group of the two horses. 'One is a spirited race horse; the other is a cart horse. You don't want to be told that, you see it in a glance. Treasure these points and study them well, and in your future career you will be able to make nice distinction between different species of men as. well as horses ; and now let's have a bottle of champagne, smoke a cigar, and then I want you to,' accompany me to your own home. I want to see that mother of yours." When the *ine had been drank, the mangof the world and th6 College boy took leave of Delmoni- co's, and started for the widow's cottage. It was nearly eight in the evening when the Colonel and Clarence reached the home of the latter. " You will hardly recognize my mother, Colonel, it is so long since you have seen her." "OY 388 page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] CLAREN BOLTON. CLARENCE BOLTON. "1Ishall, unless she has changed very much.". When the two entered, the widow heard the voice of Clarence, and opened the parlor door; as she did so, her son observed: "Here I am, dear mother, and with me is an old acquaintance of yours." "Dear lady, many years have passed since we last met, and I am moat glad to meet you again; and I am indebted to your gallant son for the opportunity. You are not much changed. One would hardly think that some seventeen years have passed over our heads since I last had this pleasure." The widow smiled, as she invited the Colonel to a seat, and remarked that she was pleased to renew the acquaintance, although it brought to her mind some painful memories. "You are a little older, Colonel, and yet it does not seem so. Clarence told me that he had seen you, and was to dine with you to day. I was glad to hear it, and to know that you have taken some interest in him, Colonel. It is a critical period of his life, and he is all that is left me in'this world." The widow had taken a seat by the side of Clarence on the sofa, and as she made the last re- mark, she put her arm aroun d his waist and kissed him. It was a holy scene, and as the man of the World looked at that mother and son, almost alone in the world, and all in all to each other, his good intentions towards the lad were doubly strengthened, and he replied : "iMy dear lady, I ought to have seen you and your boy before this, but I have-" ." Don't speak of what is past, Colonel. We have all had our troubles. Mine have been very severe, and I have heard that you have had much sorrow. I have ceased to look back. I only look forward now to the time when Clarence will be settled in the world, and will no longer need a mother's care and watchfulness, and I shall die in peace. "A widow with such a boy as that to lean upon? You have everything to hope for in the future, and I have no doubt that you will'live to see him a rich man, and spend many years of comfort with him when you become old." "Riches have very little charm for me. I wish to see him make a good and useful man, and so long as he has the necessaries of life, I care very little whether he is rich or poor." " That is all very well, widow; but riches, you must grant, are very comfortable and very use- ful. He will be rich before he dies; but no matter about that now. I have made him bring me up here to renew our old acquaintance, for I really feel very much interested in him, and we can talk over his prospects hereafter, now that I have found the way up here. He will find in me a sincere friend, and though I have not got quite as much money as I had when you first knew me, yet I have got a greatdeal more experience, and am acquainted with hundreds'of men who can serve the interest of Clarence. He graduates in a few days ?" "Yes, he will leave College in a few weeks." "And what do you design to do with him then ?" "I have not decided. Something will turn up I suppose; at any rate, I inust look out for some- thing whereby he can begin to earn a livelihood for himself." "Leave that to me. He shall be put in a way of earning that, and more to. But we will leave that matter until he graduates. Then it will be time enough to think of a profession for him." " I feel easier in my mind, Colonel Vanderhoost, since I have seen you, for I should tell an un-- truth, did I not say that I have unbounded confidence in your ability to direct his course, and lace him in the way of doing something for a living, far better than a poor widow can do; and when you hear of any opening for him, I trust you will advise him what to do, for his father's sake." "Yes, and for yours, too; not only that, I feel inclined to do all in my power to promote his future welfare, for his own sake. He is a bright and promising boy, and his devotion to his mo- -ther is not the least good trait in his character. A good son will make a good friend. _One can trust him. It will notIbe long, widow, before I see you again. I have a brother-in-law, a Mr. Gould, of whom Clarence has doubtless spoken to you. Clarence has rendered him a most essen.- tial service in saving the life of one of his children, and it has not yet been properly acknowledged; but in my hands, lady, all such matters will be put straight ,Mr. Gould has invited'Clarence to become acquainted with his family, and we are engaged to dine there to-morrow. I trust you will make no objection to his doing so. I have very good reasons that he should, for I think I can manage matters in such a way as to make him a most useful and willing friend to y our son; and Mr. Gould has the means to be of service-to any one situated as Clarence now is." " Do with my son as you please in this matter. I consent very cheerfully to his dining with Mr. Gould; but I will say one thing, Colonel: Do not do anything or give Clarence any acquaint- ances or associations that may withdraw his heart and love from his mother." "Have no fear of that; and now, Clarence, there is one meniber of youth family that I have not seen, and for reasons which I intend to keep to myself for the present. I am most anxious to see him." "Ah, Colonel, I know who it is you want to see, Beppo. Mother, where is Bep ?" " Out in the back yard, my son. Go for him" Clarence went out for a moment, and when he returned he was accompanied by noble dog of the Newfoundland breed. " There, Colonel, this is - Beppo ! " And a splendid animal it is, Clarence. ~Come here, Beppo ?" But Bep took no notice of the Colonel except -if to eye him rather -suspi- ciously, as if curious to know what sort of a stranger was occupying a position in the family circle, where he had - no business. "He is rather shy of ma- king new acquaintances, Co. lonel," said the widow; "but he will soon recognize you when'he notices that we treat you as a friend." "He is certainly worth the trouble of getting ac- quainted with. He would be a most serviceable animal in a case of danger." "Indeed, would he. The fact is, when Clarence is away, and Beppo is about, I feel quite as safe in the house, as if I had a dozen men servants at hand." "I must leave you now, Mrs. Bolton, for I have still an engagement to fulfil to-night. I shall call up before-long, and hope to have some pleasant information to communicate to you. Don't for- get your engagement to-morrow, Clarence. Good night." "I will be punctual," replied Clarence, and an hour afterwards found Colonel Vanderhoost i4 another part of the city, and surrounded by a far different association than the widow and her son. What those associations were will form material for a distinct chapter. Clarence had agreed to meet the Colonel the next day at three o'clock. When that hour arrived he was at the rendezvous appointed, which was in the smoking rooms of Delmonico. The Colonel was already there. As Clarence approached him, 'he rose and shook him cordially by the hand, and asked after his mother; and added, "Now, my dear boy, sit down; I did not finish with all that I had to say to you yesterday. I wanted to give you some advice about Mr. Gould, which may be of songe service to you." " Clarence, my innocent child, the parsons about this village-chaps that feed high, have all the good things of~this life-the finest women for wives, the fattest sheep, the best furnished houses, hickory wood for their fires, and magnificent churches in which to tell people that the world is all afieeting show for man's illusion given-all vexation, and there is nothing true but heaven, and so forth, are small cops. It ain't soi. We are placed in the world for fun. There is a general mixed up fight going on, and those who whip and come off conquerors are decidedly the cleverest people. Who are the lookers on or backers, I don't know. 'It may be.Old Scratch himself;: but it ain't of no consequence. Now I regard you in this light. You ar~e about to go into that great prize ring, the world. I hope you will win. I want you to do so. I am too old to onter again,, 40 CLARENCE BOLTON. d1 Ft page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] CLARENCE BOLTON. and in my early years I didn't have fair play. I can fight in person no longer. I must make up my losses on you, consequently I want to train you right. I will be your trainer, for I don't want you to make any foolish moves or strikes. When I discover a good chance for yott, I want you to make a hit., This' city is your ring. Men and women, generally speaking, are humbugs in the abstract, but not in the reality. Now I waxt you to advise with ie in every important mat! ter. We must now start for the residence'of Mr. Gould. You are right thus far in that quarter. Keep so. By the way, how is Beppo to-day ? I must introduce that fellow to my little Spaniel Rover. A most extraordinary dog mine is, to be sure. He knows a cop in a moment. Your dog is worth a large amount of money at any time you may feeli1nclined to dispose of him. Mr. Gould will pay a high price for him. When you are in need of funds, we can let the broker have the dog." "But I won't sell him, Colonel; it would break my mother's heart." "That is all right enough; still, if you want money' we will sell him to Mr. Gould. The dog knows his way home, don't he ?" "Yes, but then that wouldn't be fair ?" That has nothing to do with you-nothing whatever. You sell Gould the dog, and you get the money. That is your business. What the dog does is his. If he don't like to stay at Gould's house, if he is a sensible dog, he will put out of it, and go back to your mother. Of course he will. However, if Gould buys Beppo, it will be on Fanny's account, and if you have conscientious I scruples about the matter, or want the dog to travel with you, all you have to do is to travel with Fanny." 'I would give her Beppo." "Eh ? Where is your mother in that arrangement? Another thing, don't be foolish, Never give a cop's-daughter anything. Let her give you, and make it a general rule in all your future intercourse with the world, society and individuals, never to give away anything-never make a present under any circumstances, or if you do, make it a point to give away only what has been given to you. Never do that unless with a definite object. The Arabs are a very sensible people on that particular point. Adopt the Arab custom. When you make a present of any value, never do so until you have a dead sure thing in your eye. Then you may give away anything that you don't want for something that you really do require, particularly if the object you get in return' is far more precious and valuable than your gifts. This is important in society; remember and act up to it. Now it wants ten minutes to four. Gould is a very exact man, and dines precisely at four. I will leave you, and be there in time. Don't you follow me for half an hour. It will make an impression, and when you do arrive, as an excuse, tell an out and outer, and say that, the reason of your being so late was occasioned by your having entirely forgotten the engagement: Cops and low people always entertain a profound respect for people who exhibit the most perfect contempt for them and their arrangements. Now, good bye, for half an hour, when I expect to see you at Mr. Gould's in Bowling Green Row. CHAPTER IX. CONTENTS-All about foreigners with assumed titles jnd the inanner they gull the New York aristocracy. N the denouement of the plot of this story, our readers will find that we have no idea of jumping and skipping along, regardless of everything but kicking up an unhealthy excitement in the minds of those who are willing to follow Clarence Bolton to the end of.his career. Thatis the way modern writers get up an ephemeral reputation; we don't intend to be imitators: We have our own ideas of these matters, and intend to carry them out. We shall administer this story to our readers precisely as we would a well arranged meal of victuals-commence with the soup, then follows the solids, and finally the dessert. At the dinner given to Clarence by Colonel, Vanderhoost, that gentleman merely informed the lad that he had seen Mr. Gould, and that the latter had invited Clarence to dine.. Colonel V. was not a-man to waste words in explaining what Clarence would have found it very difficult to understand, vif: that the Colonel had been ob- liged to take a great deal of trouble and make a great many explanations and suggestions before he obtained from the rich broker the invitation which Clarence had accepted, without dreaming that the purse-proud inviter had supposed he was doing an uncommon, out of the way sort of matter. Clarence was surprised-and could not easily account for the sudden change in the broker's feelings. We shall drop the narrative style, and fill up the intermediate space between the dinner at Delmonico's and the dinner at the broke's, and give an insight into the manner in which the worldly wise Colonel operated upon the broiler, by appealing to the well known weakness of the wealthy but parvenu class of this community of Which Mr. Gould was a fair specimen. This will form the subject of this chapter. If it appears overdrawn or incredible, let the reader cast a look about him and he will perceive even this same weakness in a grosser guise than we dare pourtray it: It is the kneeling down of wealth and ignorance to mere pretention, or what it does not un. derstand. A wealthy shipping merchant will overlook the honest, deserving clerk who has been with him for years, and whose integrity and activity have been. one of the causes which have given 'the principal wealth; a man of unstained character, and of the purest habits and associations, one whom he has and would trust with untold gold, who is by birth, education and general intelli- gence, .superior to himself perhaps; and yet, the mere fact that he is nothing but a clerk - his own clerk, will cause that merchant to overlook his value and his services, and make him to be excluded from, a private social equality with himself or his (the merchant's) family. Ile regards that clerk and his family as his inferiors-as belonging to a different strata of society; in a word, he treats him exactly as a South Carolinian planter would conduct himself towards a good slave. He treats him kindly while he is at his daily task, gives him the provision for his support, but allows no intimacy or freedom off the p antation, or outside of the counting-room. Even if the clerk is unmarried, he seldom or never\ ask him to his house to a dinner or social party, or gives him an equality introduction to his mily, for he is nothing but a clerk, while at the same time a casual introduCtion to some individual whom he has never met before, but who has an imaginary or ,real' title, or self-made claims to position, will cause hhit to open wide the doors of his house, intro- ducerthe unknown stranger (of whose real private character he'is necessarily ignorant) into his household circle, at his dinner table, and to his wife's parties; and yetthis very man may be the veriest swindler out of Sing Sing. If he isentirely unknown, a man of good address and great pretensions, may ring into the- best (?) --wealthiest society in New York. It is the easiest thing' Imaginable, and when we hear of the peace of families destroyed, or rich men's daughters cor- 48 42 CLARENCE BOLTON page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] 44 CLARENCO BOLTON. rupted or run away with by somebody, Who is really unknown, we are only surprised that it is no-t an every hour occurrence. Fathers have only to blame their own foolish imprudence in the- result. Who is there among us that has not had his attention attracted to the fact, that, an unknown' foreigner, with a good pair of moustaches and the impudence of Lucifer, finds almost immediate entrance into our " upper circles," as the associations of the mongrel or more wealthy class of families arefalsely denominated? Is it all a matter of surprise or wonderment then, that adven- turers, impostors and humbugs, crowd our city, crowd our hotels and swindle the honest but mid- dling classes of society, when they are received, tolerated, caressed and endorsed by the wives and families of rich merchants and citizens? Is it at all a matter of astonishment, when this weakness is so widely known, that foreigners should flock to this town, and that when they arrive destitute and penniless, they should take immediate advantage of it, and of circumstance to favor their own views, promote their own interests, provide food for their mouths, and clothes for their persons ? They would be fools if they did not do it, and have plenty to eat and drink, wealthy acquaiht- ances, and be the best dressed men in town. What chance would a plain, honest shoemaker, tailor, cook, barber, or valet have in this town, to be caressed and distinguished by our richest citizens, if his only merit rested upon his real former position, and only claimed the rights of exercising his own legitimate profession ? His chances of starvation, after he had exhausted his own little capital, would be first rate, unless he fell in with people who would appreciate d pay hint for what he really could do to earn a livelihood. - We will relate an instance that came under our own observation some years ago, when we was a mere boy. In 1830, the brig Sabbattas, Captain Howard, arrived at this port from Marseilles, in France. Among her passengers was a very gentlemanly Frenchman and his family. Were we to mention his name, he would be recognized by -thousands who afterwards madehis acquaintance. Well, our foreign friend, the French gentleman, presented himself at the counting-room of a large shipping, house, hat in hand, and graceful as only a Frenchman can be, and was shown into the private office of the senior of the firm. Mutual bowings and salutations took place, and the polite Frenchman presented his letter. The merchant invited the gentlemanly stranger to a seat, while he carefnlly read his letter of introduction. It was an ordinary one, and signed by the celebrated firm of Pitch, Freres Cetie, of Marseilles. It stated that the bearer was an honest man, who had been gnilty of some republican freedom, (it was a short time previous to the expulr sion ol' Charles X. from France,) and requested the New York firm to exert their good offices in CLARENCE BOLTON. 45 his behalf, "and that any favors extended would be duly appreciated,when an opportunity would be afforded to reciprocate, &c." so far so good. When the merchant had finished reading the letter, he grasped the French gentleman's hand, gave him a cordial welcome, talked to him about dynasties kings, vines, wines and society, for nearly an hour At last, the French gentleman rose to take his departure, and then the merchant, after begging his new French friend to excuse any apparent want of etiquette, and to'" go up and take a quiet dinner with me at my house, and spend the evening with my family, who intend visiting the theatre, where we shall be happy to have you accompany us. By the way, my lady is learning French, and woild be delighted to meet and converse with an educated French gentleman in his own language." What could the French gentleman do but accept such a cordial.invitation, clothed in such grace- ful language, and given with such open heartfelt interest? He was charmed. He had no words to reply that could properly express his feelings. He had found social equality. He had found republicanism and democracy in glorious perfection. When the ecstacies of both had somewhat subsided, and the French gentleman accepted the invitation, the merchant added: " Now, my dear sir, as it will be half an hour before my carriage will be here to convey us up to my residence, you may as well confide to me any business or plans which you have in view. Speak freely." " Tank you. I wish to get one leetle place for my famille, and where I can do my vork," said France. "Oh, ah, I perceive. You are temporarily reduced-embarrassed,! should say-and are willing to submit gracefully to your misfortune, and make the best of them. Excellent man, I admire and honor you. What profession did you follow in France? Medical, legal-or perhaps you lived the life of a retired gentleisan on your vineyards?" " Oh, non," and then the excellent man informed his mercantile friend that his former occupn- tion had been that of a journeyman tailor, and that he was on the look out for a snug place with a cheap rent, where he could start business and elevate a shingle. "Boolk-keeper! Joseph! come here," shouted the merchant, "Are these bills of lading signed? have those 250 bales of cotton gone on board the Europe ydt ?--by the way, I must look after those matters myself, and out of his sanctum he marched without a word of apology to his guest. In the general counting room he spoke to the bookkeeper, and said he was going home--to tell the coach- man when he arrived with the carriage that he had gone, and meanwhile to go in his private office and talk to that Frenchman, see what he wanted, and tell him that he had an unexpected en- gagement, and should not return, and-he did not. The surprised Frenchman never understood the exact meaning of the sudden change in the mer- chant's manner until he had lived in New York some years, and become somewhat extensively ao- quainted among our weidthy men. He got a place, and was For some months a "tailleur" in the second floor of the old wooden building that used to stand next door to Masonic Hall, in Broadway. Then he started the Caf6 des Mille Colonnes opposite' made a moderate fortune, and went back to France. lie lived long enough to witness one of Fortune's sudden somersets, and to see the day when he could have bought his first merchant friend ten times over. When he was crilled upoi to give advice to any emigrating French friend, would he recommend him to go to New York And present' himself there as- an honest French tailor, when it was just as easy to perform the part of count? Certainly not. A man who has bedn through the mill, lived in this city, and made himself familiar with its customs and opinions, and-become acquainted with the foibles and aristocratic weaknesses of her prominent men, would give the best worldly advice in recommending his friends to take the highest position possible onarrival, no matterwhatlevel he found afterward. A foreigner may arrive here under precisely similar circumstances in which the French friend did, to whom we have made allusion,.belonging to either Spain, Germany, France, Italy, Hungary, or Poland, and if he is shrewd. cunning, intelligent, and. rightly advised, he will mal e his debut among us as a nobleman-who has been deeplyy compromised in some revolutionary movement, and has been exiled by a tyrannical and cruel government from the home of his youth, the associations of his childhood, and his noble companions and his princely domains. Of course he has This class of foreign gentlemen, instead of hailing from every nation known, should be classified as .Moonites, as their castles in fortunes and prospects are found nowhere else but in the land of thie moon. -'Tailors, coblers, hair-dressers, valets, and hotel servants from Europe, -can make their appearance page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] 46 CLARENCE BOLTON. in our Gotham unknown and without any danger of -ever being known. One of this class is not generally unknowing. He may be penniless, but he is perfectly aware of the mania of the upper class,,or mongrel classes, for foreigners, and therefore 'he lands as a distinguished foreigner either with or without a title. In his own country he was merely the plain valet or servant to some titled man, or a public hair-dresser and barber of a high cast and aristocratic tendencies, and was brought in constant contact and association with polished and refined gentlemen. To a certain extent he has acquired their ease of manner, modes of expression, tastes, and can ape and imitate them without being discovered by New, York novices,.or wealthy vulgarity. He has only to choose some aristocratic name, and his fortune is made by a pair of mustaches, and his assumed cogno- men. He has probably a few francs in his pocket, the economical savings of his former honest occupation. His whiskers curl beautifully; his mustaches are as fierce as an Arab's, and he wears a most aristocratic suit of clothes. What has he next to do ? Select a room at Delmonico's for three dollars a week, for he is aware that he will soon be invited to dine out, or can spunge a meal' when he gets a drink at luncheon time. He has in' his pocket a list of the names of our most wealthy merchants and brokers, and the age, number, and names-of their marriageable daughters. All that he hasnow to do is easy. A few dollars spent among a certain class of young men in this town, or even a dinner, will procure any stranger an introduction into any one of the upper crust families in .town. Money paid to the class we allude to is certain to fetch them. We allude to i broken down set of young men who are floating about town, livingupon their wits, or having a very small income frem the wieck of the estate of some old and respected family of other days. They have the entri to any society where they choose to go; they have spent fortunes in their day-been the darling young men of New York, lived high. and wasted their substance, and a foreigner who can afford to pay anyone individual of this class can go wherever he lists, and they all endorse him as anybody he chooses to be, from a count to a duke. These are the degenerate bloods to the manor born. As soon as the foreign -valet is introduced and made at home in one codfish family in New York, his way is clear before him, and his genius can have full and fair play. Mrs. Penny will make 'an easy time ofeit for him. She prides herself upon the quantity of distinguished foreigners that she can carry about with her. She is delighted to introduce Count Valet anywhere, and to be his confidential friend, and the ci-devant barber of course is delighted to go there. Mrs. Penny vouches for everything the Couht Valet chooses to assert or insinuate, and she presents him at the residence of Mrs. Halfpenny, and every other lady of the copper families with whom she is on inti- mate terms, and while under her wing Count Valet may assert that he owns half Europe, and Mrs. Penny will swear to it, and whisper quietly that she knows all about him, because he does business with her merchant husband, and has several thousands of dollars, and any quantity of letters of credit lying idle in the hands of her husband's commercial firm, and she can for the time being honestly believe any story the Count Valet may choose.to tell her, and repeats it verbatim to all her friends and neighbors. Baron, Count, or Prince, she supports and maintains his claims to any or all of them. Her husband may not exactly like such management, but what on earth has a business man got to do with his wife's private associations. Let him attend to his business. Her's is to provide suitable associations for her family, and proper husbands for her unmarried daughters. But the Count is not idle all this time. By no manner of means. He is about and makes the most of his time- "makes hay while the sun shines." He proves himself to be a gentleman in a variety of ways- has the air, the manner and the unsophisticated ease, the language and information which a refined and polished man of the world is supposed to possess. Wretched English covers and hides down. right ignorance and vulgarity. To be near him at the piano and be accompanied by him on the guitar, and with his sweet voice, is the highest ambition of some fair girl who has money, and that he has fastened upon. She forgets the fact, or never knew it, thatto sing divinely and play the guitar admirably, is tnore an accomplishment of an Italian barber, a German valet or French hairdresser, than it is of a well-bred real European nobleman. Many of thega adventurers are successful in their demonstrations upon the weak points of our wealthy class. They succeed in their designs and unfortunately to often become the husbands of some of our most lovely belles, ride in their carriages, or take ttieir brides abroad on papa's money, to see the castles (?) of their lords of husbands in foreign lands. Many are established in [2 -CLARENCE BOLTON. business by their wife's parents and the secret that their daughters have really made a moot wretched marriage is confined to but few. The plain practical common sense and loving father endeavors to make the best of what his wife's love of high sounding titles has led them into, and gives his mo - ney freely to remedy the evil that has been infficted upon the household, and the dis graceful fraud is hushed up, the foreign son-in-law is provided with an income, or perhaps started in some bu- siness for appearance sake, and the poor infatuated daughter, who, while in be- coming wife of adiotinguish- /7 ed aristocratic foreigner, has been the envr of all her / joung acqu intances, has the secret rankling at her heart, and which she is forced to confine to her own bosom, that her husband, chosen companion of her future life, the father of her children, is a swindler, a vulgar low bred foreign upstart and impostor, nothing more, and God knows he cannot be less. page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 A4 OLATUIC1IBOLTON. CHAPTER X CONTENTS--Colonel Vanderhoost otill-continues to devise ways and means to advance the interest of Clarence-His visib to Mr. Gould, to whom lhe makes eiclosures of an astonishing character. UST and generous hearted as Colonel Vander- hoost was known to be by all who were intimate- ly acquainted with him, yet he was in some respects a selfi-h man of the world. He had lived long in New York, and watched carefully the motives of human action. He had not confined his observations solely to one sphere of life. He had made them among all classes. He knew full well that the facts related in our last chapter -_ were matters of every day occurrence in fashion- -__~-~_ able, wealthy life; such as we have in New York. He knew the secret springs that operated on the minds of the men of this class, and he kne w when and hoVto touch those springs when he had any design of his own to accomplish. For reasons - that will be developed, as we carry our readers along, the colonel had determined to play upon and use his power in the case of the rich broker, Mr, Gould, for the especial benefit of our friend Clarence. He was well aware that wealth could always command genius and talent. The colonel knew it was wrong, and that such a state of things ought not to exist in a Christian community; yet it was, so, and therefore the colonel felt no conscientious scruples inadoting particular measures in some cases which would turn the tables and enable talent to use wealth. With him it was a legitimate business. He was poor. He felt that a man who posessed that wealth of which he had been deprived could be of the most essential service to his young friend Clarence, and he had willed that Mr. Gould should be the man. He had read Clarence at a glance, as if he had been an open printed book. He had learned from one act that he was brave,, generous, and unselfish; he saw at their first interview that he possessed, in an eminent degree, genius, ambition, commanding talent, and a lofty high toned mind, and that there was,nothing low or grovelling in his 'composition. These gifts, great and glorious as they were, he knew that they would never commend themselves to such a man as a 'Wall street broker, unless they were associated with other adjuncts which would fasten upon the leak points of that broker's character. He knew what motives would ~operate in that quarter to make a firm And lasting friend of Mr. Gould for Clarence ) He felt that they would be gross, but not too strangely so, for the greedy and ignorant Gould. How correct the colonel had estimated the character of the broker, we shall now proceed td show in the most satisfactory manner. Colonel Vanderhoost was one of those inen whose veracity could not be called in question with impunity. He never told a lie in his life, and any white man who ever insinuated anything of the kind, either directly or indirectly, would have picked.up a fighi, perhaps, to a dead certaint, for the colonel would fight, and he was a crack shot.'. Besides this, when tbe colonel did tell a story which bordered on,the improbable, he was too intelligent to leave any trail to such stories. Ile was of a class of fibbers that are never " caught in the act." Besides he had his position to fall back upon, and he made a bold stand upon his dignity and reputation whenever he asserted or intimated anything which he wished to be believed. He neyer made the blunder to be precise in regard to names, dates, or places. Previous to his dinner with Clarence at Delmonico's, and after he had left that young gentle- man upon the occasion of his first interview with him upon the Battery, he pursued his way to the residence of M.r. Gould. When he reached the door, rang the bell, and a servant had an- swered it, he gave him his card, and told the man to give it to Mr. Gould', whom he knew was at h( me ttt that hour, and the colonel walked into the parlor, Hie did not remain long there, when ho received a message to come o~p stairs. He complied, and found Mr. Gould in his library, which consisted of a largE number of splendidly bound volumes of books. As he entered, the broker rose from his seat, dropped the evening ne wspaper which he was reading, and expressed his gratiflation at seeing the colonel, and asked, "What is stirring on the outside ?" The colonel knew his man, and with a very dignified manner, replied, "Really, sir- I do not know what you call the outside. , If you mean one of your flash broker tvrms, what is doing in the street ? alit have to say is, that I don't know anything about street transactions, nor do I wish to. I should not have called on you to-day, had it not been that I have heard, and have good reason to believe that you have been making a most consummate ass of yourself on a recent oecasion, ard as I am somewhat interested in your reputation, you having, been honored by being permitted to marry my sister, I want to know what it's all about ?-to sty the least, you have committed, a most un- pardonable breach of etiquette-have made a gross mistake, and been doing a very foolish thing Now I have come to have a personal interview swith- you to talk over the matter, and unless I have been greatly deceived in your character, when I convince you.that you have been doing. wrong, you will make-an apology. to the party aggrieved, make it all right, and continue to be worthy of my fiendship , The grave manner in wnich the stazety Colohel pronounced all this, alarmed the broker, and he hastily broke out with- "Why, Colonel, what the deuce is the matter; what's dut? Has anything breke ? "Broke, indeed! you 'may well say that. By the bye, if you don't have a care, if there ain't anybody broke, there soon will be. Gould, you have a pair of daughters, that have the im- pudence sometimes to address me as their uncle, which by the way is also a very vulgar mode of. expression, as uncles in these days are generally supposed to be Ohatham street pawn- brokers." "Yes, yes, Colonel;. but about my daughters, surely no accident has happened to them ?" Not to them, but to one of them., You have one daughter." Yes, and one more which makes two." "Gould, don't be facetious, or attempt one of your arithmetical puns; they don't suit you. I speak of your oldest daughter; you have'one." "Yes, I have one olderthan the other, I suppose-" "Well, her name is Fanny; and if I am correctly informed, she-came very near being drowned .4uite recently." " That is so; but a miss is as good as a mile, you know, and the Miss wasn't drowned." PC Gould, did ydu intend that? t' not a miss. Rather good for a broker to perpetrate. Tz go on about Fasny." ULAREA Uh bV,61 U.N. page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50 CLARENCE BOLTON. "She fell in the water, but got out again, and is alive and kicking as usual." "And to whom, Mr. Gould, are you indebted for that happy circumstance, that she's alive and kicking now, as you elegantly express yourself ?" "Why, there was a young'chap that jumped off the ferry boat after her, and took a .wim to Governor's Island with her." "And pray what reward have you given him for saving little Fan 's life ?" "None at all. I offered him fifty cents for his trouble, and he insulted me by throwing it down on the Castle Gardei bridge."- , "Served you right; what business had you to insult him after he had rendered you such a ser- vice, by offering him such a paltry compensation. Upon my soul, I am ashamed for. you., But' Who is the chap as you call him?" "Oh, he is a noboly--a ship carpenter's son, or some other low person, "in one of the up town Wards. But don't look so alarmed, Colonel; I made her drop his acquaintance. Ile will probably never see her again." " That is not what is passing in my mind. Now, Gould, I'll tell you that you have made a great mistake in this business. Do you believe inlrewards and punishments? Do you ever go to church ?" "To be sure I do. I have a pew in Grace. ChurAh.". "Well, never mind that now. Have you the least idea of. who that young man really is that rescued your eldest daughter from a watery grave ?" "On my soul I haven't, except that he is-" "Don't swear, Gould It is a bad practice-a most ungentlemanly habit, and no man in pol- ished society, such as you are desirous to shine in, ever swears. You don't know who that young man is, and yet you treat him as though he was a dog. Speaking of dogs, are you aware that the young man's dog is one of the most extraordinary specimens of that sagacious animal ?" "No, I did not notice anything about the dog, except that he was a capital swimmer, and I wondered where he learned to swim." " Gould, did not that fact, that the dog could swim satisfy you that the dog was a very remark. able one ?" " Well, I must say it did. What's the dog's name ?" "Beppo. What a fortunate thing it is for you that I feel so deeply interested in your fate.as to have looked into the matter, and ascertained all about what you have overlooked. Are the doors ,closed ?- gan no one overhear us ?" "No, we are all alone. Go ahead; what is all this about ?" "Mum's the word, you have done wrong-committed a great oversight, to say the least of it- destroydd our-no, I won't say that yet. Now, Gould, I will tell you in confidence who that young lad really is that, in all human probability, saved your child's life. He is-" "Go on; who is he ?' "Are-you quite sure no one is listening ?" "Nobody, of course not. Who is he ?" "He is the son-" " Well ?" "Close that window ;, some one might be passing along the street and overhear me." "There now, say on The window is closed, and no one can overhear you. In the name of all the saints, whose son is he ?" " He is the son of his parents." "Of course he is. Who the - doubts that? Whose else's son should he be ?" "Gould, you are a blasphemer. Now listen quietly, and don't allow yourself to get so excited. The name of that boy is Boltofi, Clarence Bolton; have you ever heard of that name before ?" "Never, until Fanny mentioned it to me." ,V "Well, sir, Clarence has ancestors-old, ancient as the hills, castles, coats of mail, saddle$, bridles, harness, battle-axes, and all them old dodges, and there is noble blood in his veins." " Colonel, ain't you joking ? Do you know that fact ?" " Joke ? I never joke on family matters. His mothet-" " Yes ?" " Was a woman." " Yes, go on." "And her ancestors were-" "I am listening." "Gould, did you ever hear of Francois Premier ?" "Yes, I have. My old friend Depau named a ship after him. She isin the Havre line of pack- ets -good freights." "True, he did so. That shows he was somebody, for he was once a king of Frpnce.- Ask old Depau if h~e wasn't? Francois had a sister. She left France, went to St. Domingo, got married there. The mother of Clarence carpe from that island. She is a lineal descendant. - She' is one of the Premier family." "No, you don't tell me that! What a blamed shame she should have thrown herself away, and got married to a ship carpenter ?" " Hold on a minute. Not so fast. Who do you call a ship carpenter? Now, r emember, Gould, this conversation is to be strictly private, and never to be bientioned." ",Of course. I understand you. It shall be considered confidential." "You won't mention it to your wife ever ?" "Certainly not." "Now, Gould, are you at all posted up in English history ? Do you know the names of the leading English houses ?" 4 Of course I do. My firm are the banking agents for several leading English houses-, and I know all about them. If they ain't respectable, I'd like to be told who is, in the London market especially." " True, I see you.are up to what I am telling you. Do you recollect about what time William the Norman invaded England ?" * "No, not exactly. I suppose it must have been some time ago, for I don't remember the par- ticulars."- "I dare say you do not, If you want information on that point, I can give you the name of a nan that you believe in. You have a pew in that little building, up at the corner of Broadway and Rector street, known as Grace Church." " Yes, and it's the best church in this town." "That is to say, it's the most aristocra- tic and fashionable 'in town,. which suits your religious views remarkably well. However, it's Episcopal, has a very clever rector in the person of Dr. W., and I sup-e pose, before long, when property rises in. the lower part of the city it will be sold, the congregation remove up town and erect a a church, which shall take down old Trin- ity. " Colonel, I think you have hit the mark. It is a miserable little place for a wealthy and fash- ionable congregation, to meet in now, but wait until -we get a new one and tear down the present one. It will be a capital site for a store, but never mind Grace church, go on with what you were saying about Clarence Bolton." Let me see, where did I leave off; oh, I recollect, we were talking about the time William the, Conqueror invaded England. At that time, whenever it was, or soon afterwards' there was an Earl or Duke of the name of Bolton old as the hills. This Bolton is a liheal descendant from that family, which has became extinct in England." " Is it possible ! Why, Colonel, you astonish me. But then, how come he to be a ship carpenter ?" "I'll explain all that. One of the family left England after the discovery of America for some high crime or other, came over to this continent, landed at Plymouth rock or somewhere else, and had with him a green bag, in which was a horse shoe tied to a prophecy, which said chat one of the Boltons should be a ship carpenter, have a son, who should own a large Newfoundland dog, and that son should come to his own again. Now they are'a11 dead except this 1-ad, and even he don't CLARENCE BOLTONG page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] CLABENC BO2LTON. know what great prospects are in store for him. Don't you see it all now? The green-bag is still retained, And is theonly relic except the horse shoe and the prophecy left, and I know where they are, although the lad and his mother don't know anything about them, and I don't intend they shall at present." "You are right, Colonel. What a fool I. have been to be sure. But are you sure the boy or his mother don't kgow any thing about it ?" "Quite sur, I assure you. The income of that estate must be worth at least 100,000 pounds sterling per annum, and then the title ?" "True, true One hundred thousand pounds'sterling !" "'Yes, say, 444,444 44 dollars per annum, Mr. Gould, think of that."- "It's more than that, at the present rate of exchange. I'll give 9 1-2 per cent premium for good- sterling bills to-day." "Now, Gould, keep our secret. Don't lisp the matter, or people will laugh at us. Get young Bolton's confidence ; be his friend-marry him to Fanny one of those days; but keep mum. You understand ?" "4Don't I ? But I say, Colonel, I have treated him rather shabbily. What will he think of me after what has passed.?" "Kindness, a regular system of courtesy, and apparent interest and sympathy in all his pur- suits, will work thit. I'll bring him here any time you will say the word." "Do it at once, Colonel; say to-morrow, and do you tell iim__" "Stop, Gould; I will tell him nothing. Leave that to me. Have a good dinner on your table to-morrow." "Precisely at four, Colonel; don't forget." 'I won't. By the way, you must do something for that dog. Buy him." "Buy the dog Why, I don't want a dog, and perhaps he won't sell him." "I dare say not. I will arrange that, however; but it is a ticklish subject, and mustbe han- dled delicately., I will persuade him to give the dog to Fanny, and do you refuse do let her re- ceive him, unless the heir of the Boltons will accept a check for $500." "I'll do it. Get him to give Fan. the dog. I'll give him the money." ' Now, Gould, keep quiet and prudent. Take your own course, but don't breathe a word of what has passed to a living soul; and now good-bye." After this conversation, the Colonel felt easy. He had achieved his object. The end justified the means. Henceforth his clever protege would find a wealthy and influential friend, ready to aid him in any emergency. It was after this conference he met Clarence at Delmonico's, and our readers know what passed. CHAPTER X1. CONTENTS-The dinner at Mr. Gould'e--1lrence Boltonthe lion, &00, &o. - EEPING in view the object of Colonel Vander. hoost, Clarence sauntered leisurely along until lie reached the splendid residence of the rich broker, Mr. Gould. When he reached the door, it was exactly half -past four, by old Trinity clock, which was in full view from the steps of Mr. Gould's house. Clarence was in no pleasant state of mind when he rang the bell. He was not particularly calm or collected. It was the first time he had ever dined out with a family. Then again all the queer circumstances connected with his becoming acquainted with the Gould family, came rushing into his mind, and he felt excessively shy and uneasy. As the servant came to the door, Claren-edemanded if Mr. Gould was at home. He was answered in the affirmative, and shown into the parlor. - Mr. Gould rose to receive him, and in a style that made Clarence really like the man, introduced him to his wife, children, and some other persons present. "You are very late, Mr. Bolton," remarked the broker; "we have kept dinner waiting for you nearly an hour." " Really, I am annoyed at that; for to tell you the truth, I camevery near forgetting my en- gagement to Colonel Vanderhoost; but luckily I temelubered it in time to be here. By the wa, Colonel, how do you do? I had not noticed before that you were in the room. You see that I have kept my promise."- The Colonel had been partly concealed when Clarence entered, and was holding a talk with Fanny in a corner of the room. He' now rose, extended his hand in reply to the salutation of Clarence, and with a curious expression in his eyes, which was not-unnoticed by Clarence, said: "My-dear boy, I see you have, and well too. * How is that excellent'lady, your good mother ?" "She was well' Colonel, when I left home this morning." "A lady-sister mine," continued the Colonel, addressing Mrs. Gould, " to whom I should like very much to introduce you." "I should be most happy to become acquainted with her," replied Mrs. Gould. "My mother, madam, is some what singular in that respect. . She rarely makes any new ac- quaintances; and would scarcely consent to doing so, except under very pressing circumstances." Mr. Gould was a listener, dd was not at all surprised at the remark of Olarence. He expected it, and it had the effect Ufnfirming, to a certain extent, the story of Colonel Vanderhoost about the Premier family. Mrs. Bolton, the mother of Clarence, was somebody. He felt sure of it. His reflections were cut short by the Colonel, who exclaimed: "Well, Mr. Gould, I must try my power of persuasion with Mrs. Bolton, and get her permission to take my sister up there and get the two ladies acquainted. I amsure they will like each other very much,; but meanwhile your dinner must be getting cold. Come, Mrs. G., shall I escort you to the dining room ?" The invitation was-accepted, and the hostess and the. Colonel led the way. Clarence escorted Fanny, and the rest of the party paired off and followedsto the dining room, where a sumptuous dinner awaited them. When Clarence and Fanny reached the table, she took a seat on one side of her father, and Clarence took a seat next to her. Mr. Gould sat at one end of the table,. and his wife at the other; the Colonel was seated at her right, and next to him was his youngest niece. There was an old merchant with his wife and daughter present ; the latter was a very pretty girl, with long; auburn ringlets, and great blue eyes. She was about the same age as Clarence. Au officer in the navy sat by her dide ; and then there were a few ladies, mothers, aunts, &c., whom Clarence supposed to be family fixtures, for' they rarely spoke. .After the dinner party were Coin. 1 ' CtARENCE BOLTON, 68 52 * page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] CLARENCE BOLTON. A C fortably seated at the table, Clarence waited for Mr Gould to ask a blsssing. His mother always did it; but the broker was not the man to waste his time. He was not a grace saying man, though he owned a pew in Grace Church. Soup was served, and devoured without any talk; that finish- ed, the pnain dinner was served up, and then Mr. Gould began to talk to Clarence. He asked him several questions, and received suitable replies. The conversation soon became general, and Clar- once had an opportunity to hold a very low'talk with Fanny. "How glad, Clarence, I am to see you!" said Fanny. "And I," replied the youth, "am very glad to be here. But did you know I was to dine here to-day-?" "Yes, papa told me so this morning; and charged me to behave very pretty, and all that. I never was so much astonished in my life. What has made him change his mind? I did not think he liked you, or would ever invite you here." "I suppose, Fanny, I am indebted to your uncle for this privilege." "I am quite sure he has had something to do with it,; for he -was here the other day, and he and pa had a long conversation in the library about something in particular. I dare say it was about you; but I don't care what it was about.- I am glad to see you here. I am sure mother willlike you, and then we will have such nice times of it! I have got such a lot of nice things, to show you when dinner is over." Then Fanny rattled on about college studies; his books, and asked a hundred questions in respect to the difference between the studies of younggentlemen and young ladies,'until Mr. Gould inter- rupted her nudertone conversation with Clarence, by asking the latter if he should have the pleasure of taking glass of wine with him. Clarence was at fault; but others were included in the invitation, and he did as they did, replying-. "With pleasure, sir." -A- - - - ZN ---l When Clarence filled, his glass from a decanter near, him, he' filled Fanny's glass at the same time. Thsmd- iteenuin u twsso eeid an thnCaec okda h ooe veywsfly lea~n~~ oktehnadbea ostCarnea xml of h - hwa to d, b atingthehosessto tke glss f wne ithhim Clrec soo afe i h ae thnh se anan onatrh vnventrdt-s h bu-dgilwt the rnlt totk iewihhm hchsedd itotaymr notice o Clre-e thnasaea i f~r hs ime~tience assedee t nclighr.tz* Up to this time, not the most distant allusion had been made by any of the parties at the din- ner table to the ferry- boat scene. The Colonel had not said a word about it; but he was watching carefully for a favorable opportunity to introduce the subject, and to properly define the position of Clarence to all the party present. Clarence continued his chat with Fanny, and the conversa- tion wandered up into the old Eleventh Ward, when he gave her an invitation to pay his excellent mother a visit. Fanny replied that sh'e could not tell whether her mother would let her go. Mr. Gould overheard this part of the conversation, and settled the matter by saying that Fanny and her sister might go any day that Clarence would call for them. It is strange, but even this prompt concurrence in the wish of Clarence by Mr. Gould, convinced the former that the broker had a great many good points in his character, and that he had not estimated him at his true value when they first met. He thanked the broker most cordially for the permission he had given-to Fanny. Colonel Vanderhoost now discovered that the favorable opportunity y had arrived for di- recting the attention of the company to his protege, and he remarked in a Idud tone to Mr. Gould: "Who, my dear sir, wouldimagine on looking at these two young people, yonder, who are chat- ting so quietly and cosily, that only aew days since they were both exposed to the very shocking death of drowning, in the North River, and that the young lady would inevitably met that rate, but for the manly courage and gallantry of that youth, assisted by a famous Newfoundland dog ?" Clarence blushed, but conversed more earnestly-with Fanny. As several of the parties present had not heard of the transaction, the Colonel of course was called.upon for an explanation, which he gave in full, by relating the whole story, and he did it in such a manner, as to call forth from all parties present one voice of admiration and praise. It was decided at once that Clarence was an unheard of hero, and that no gratitude whatever could repay him for saving the life of Miss Fanny. Even the ringlets and blue eyes were turned admiringly upon the handsome, intellectual face of Clarence, the young lady that owned them immediately determined to cultivate the ac- quaintance of so good a swimmer, and regretted exceedingly. that she was not the rescued young lady: for it would have been the sort of romance she could have luxuriated in, and Clarence was just the sort of person that she could have fell desperately in love with and have enjoyed the fun of it amazingly. We have thus far said very little of Mrs. Gould, the sister of Colonel Vanderhoost, and we will do full justice to her character. She was a woman that possessed the warmest feelings of a kind hearted mother. She had never known what love really was. She married Mr. G6uld because he had money, and was a rising man in this community. She was comparatively poor, and so was her brother. All of her friends told her that it *ould be an excellent.match, so she followed theii advice and married the money, though she disliked the man. She had never possessed any extra- ordinary claims to beauty. As we have said before, she was of good blood. When she married she was short, plump, rather pretty features, and her ideas were not very extended. She was rather indifferent to her fate. When children began to gather around her, she became a very different being. She was still heartliss, proud and overbearing in general; but where they were concerned, she felt and acted as a mother. - No sooner had her brother finished his eulogy on the exploits of Clarence in the water and the guests had become quiet, than she took up the themoe, and addressed Clarence in language that went to his heart, astonished every one at the table, except her brother, and even he was surprised to find more of the mother in his sister, than he had ever given her credit of possessing. " Clarence, thisis the first opportunity I have had to tell you how very grateful I feel for your brave conduct, in going to the assistance of my darling little Fanny, the day she fell overboard from the ferry. boat. I am very grateful I can't call you Mr. Bolton; I must call you Clarence, and must regard you almost as dear as if you were one of my own children. T3ut for your timely aid, I should now have been mourning for one of mine. I hope you will ever retard my home as your home, feel that I am a mother, and will be one to you if I can. My brother has spoken to me of your mother. From what you have said, I am not certain that she will receive me if I visit her ; but to-morrow I shall call on her, and thank her for being the mother of a brave boy, who has saved the life of one of my children. -Comne, ladies, we will leave the gentlemen ; they want to finish their wine and smoke their cigars by themselves. Come, my daughters. Clarence, before. you leave for home, I want to speak with you." ,- The ladies followed the hostess from the dining room,; the gentlemen, who had risen when they took their departure, resumed their seats at the table. Mr. Gould was delighted at what his wife~ had said to Clarence. He had not let hei' into his secret, and he felt as though she could not hatr~* CLARENCE BOUON. 5 64 page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 66 CLARENCE BOLT01N. done the thing, vs he called it, in a more handsome style, even if she had known all that he sup. posed he himself knew about the young lad. "Capital,.1by Jove !" he exclaimed. "Well, Clarence, how do you like your new mother, eh? Come, gentlemen, fill your glasses all around; I have got a sentiment to propose on this occasion. Here is the health of Beppo, the Newfoundland dog, and his young master, Clareice." All of the party drank the toast except Clarence. He replied to it very briefly by stating that he felt highly honored, both on his own account, and on that of Beppo, who he regretted was not present to wag his tail and bark a reply in person. "As he is not," continued Clarence, "I thank you for doing justice to the absent; if you will permit me to offer a sentiment I will say no more." ".d Mother, first to love us, may the be the last toforget her." "(Bravo, excellent !" exclaimed Colonel Vanderhoost, and the noble sentiment was drank in bumpers. Mr. Gould's wine cellar was well stocked. He had the choicest of all the kinds tliat the vine ever produced, and for this he was solely indebted to.Colonel Vanderhoost, who, as a matter of course. knew every bottle that the broker had in his cellar. "Come, Gould, after that sentiment, proposed by Clarence, send down stairs for a bottle of that famous crusted old port that you procured at the sale of wines, and let's do honor to this occasion. I want to propose your own'health."' It is needless to say, that the broker sent for the wine, and, as a matter of course, it was pro. nounced excellent, as it would have been, even if it-had been the famous imitation port made in Marseilles, so little do even real judges of, wines know about the purity or quality of wines, after their taste has been destroyed by drinking of different kinds. While this was passing, the Colonel who had removed his seat to that part of the table where Clarence was seated, whispered in his. ear, "Keep quiet, now, don't drink any more wine, and listen. You will hear some things I wish you to know," and then raising his voice, he addressed the old merchant; "Mr. Brand, I learn that you have been purchasing some property in Broad street very recently. Do you think it will rise in that quarter of the city ?" "No doubt about it, sir," replied the merchant. "Property will increase in value on any part of the island, but in some parts more rapidly than in others. It is my opinion that Broad street, which is destined to be a commercialstreet, will in a few years be filled with warehouses, instead of as now, with dwelling houses, that are shortly to be pulled down to make room for stores. New York will want every inch of room down town for commercial purpo. ses. The dwelling houses will go first, and then will follow the pub- lie places. There are several of these that must come down. The street1 they are located in will all be business streets. The GArden Street Church will go first; then Doctor Phillips' church, in Wall street, will go, and I should not be surprised if the church where I and my family worship should be torn down next." __ __ " You attend the Presbyterian church in Cedar street, that was so long under the charge of the -- - __ Reverend, Dr. Romeyn, do you not ?" interrupted the Colonel. " Yes. It is now under the JJLJLScharge of the Rev. Cyrus Mason; 11 R nubut all that part of Cedar street, ________ between Nassau and Broadway, will be occupied as stores before *long. What is the reason, Mr. 'Gould, that you brokers don't go into real estate ? Other uses for your capital, I suppose." CLARENCE BOLTON. 57 " No, indeed, we can make a better interest by our own legitimate business It is all very well for men who have got no business in which to employ their capital usefully, to buy real estate and let it lie unproductive. I have no doubt it will pay a good interest in the end. I agree with you that Broad street property located this side of Beekman street must, will rise in value in a very few years, for it will be required for commerce, and it will pay a better interest than dwelling houses. Money invested in those will never pay over 6 per cent. on the market value of the property." " Really, gentleman ," remarked the Colonel, "what a very pleasant subject you have selected for conversation; upon my word, to a man situated like myself, who is without an extra copper, it is quite refreshing to hear you two wealthy men dilate learnedly upon the best method of in- vesting your surplus cash. Pray, can either of you rich people inform me how to make money ?" " It is very easy," replied old Brand, "but I must say, Gould, that I think you or any other rich man in this city very foolish to keep much of his capital in business. You ought always to invest a fair magin in real estate, and get rich in that way" " But, I tell you, Brand, real estate don't pay like a good business. When a man has acquired wealth by his business s, then let him retire and invest it in real estate, and not tillthen," said the broker "You are wrong, Gould, decidedly wrong, and so you will find. Now, just 1t me give you my own history. Many years ago, when I left clerking it, I had saved about.$800, and with that I engaged in the wholesale and retail grocery business. The very first year I cleared over $1,000 profit. It cost me to live about $300. I added to my stock in trade about '$200 more, and I in- vested $500 in a purchase of property-real estate, which cost me $8,000. $2,500 of this amount. I left on mortgage, and with a few months of the subsequent profits of my business Ieasily raised that mortgage. Every year Iadded to my stock or capital invested in trade, only sufficient for my increase of business, but I always invested the main share of my profits in real estate. What has been the result? This property has increased enormously in value and-still continues to do so, and is*actually giving me a greater income per annum than my business ever did. You will findt it the safest plan in the long run to do as I did. I bought it. for $5,000; it has paid on this amount from 6 to 80 per cent. income for 15 years, and I could sell it to-morrow for $76,000.- What do you think of that ?" "There is some truth in what you say; but let every man attend to his own business. I had no more money when I. started than yourself; but I commenced buying short paper, sometimes at three per cent, a month discount, and kept turning it over and over, speculating in stocks and in foreign bills of exchange, until I find myself pretty well off, Brand--not rich; but with a snug little sum, and Iknow where it is. I could employ to advantage five millions in my business, if I had it. Why, friend Brand, I have made the credit of my house so good, that I can purchase good A No.. 1-bills of exchange to the extent of one hundred thousand dollars worth every paoket,and re-sell them to importing merchants atone per cent. more than I gave. People pay this to have our bills, or our endorsements, as so much safer than any others. Would I not be silly in investing funds which I can turn over to an unlimited extent, in real estate or any land specula- 'tion ?" ",Yet, Gould, you will find out that I am right, and that you are wrong in the long run. Tell me of any very rich man in this city, who has become rich lky his legitimate business alone ? There are none. If a merchant keeps his profits in his business, he is as certain to die a beggar, as a gambler would be, who had for a time a run of luck, and continued to double his stakes as fast as he made them. There must come a t yrn of luck, and then be is swept 6leat. You may, perhaps, be so unfortunate as to find it come true in your own career. You keep all your money invested in-your business. Bye and bye you will have a turn of luck. Bank and insurance com- panics may fail, fire, panic, or something else may overturn the mercantile firms of the commer- cial world. Where will you be then? Y,ou will have nothing to fall back upon. It won't do, I tell you. If a man is prosperous, making money by his business, and wants to get rich, let him invest from year~ to year two -thirds at least of his profits, inu productive real estate. He is then guarded against accidents, and will as assuredly getrich as that two and two make four. I. 8 page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] CLARENCE, BOLTON - , CHAPTER-XII. CON TENTS-The dinner at Mr. Gould's conoluded-the conversation on the way of getting rlch-Clarenea's interview with Mrs. Gould-Colonel Vanderhoost's advice and his system of book-keoping-ha Dutch grocery. 00K at the money making philosopher," chimed in Colonel Vanderhoost, after he had heard the last remark from the excited Mr. Brand. "See how his eyes glisten ; but come, Mr. B., I will acknowledge that you have placed things before ~_ ~ my eyes in a different light from what I have been accustomed to regard them, When I re- - fleot a moment, I am clearly convinced that you are right. It is an unquestioned fact that the failures of our merchants are caused by their - grasping avarice, greediness, and their want of prudence in not investing a share of their profits in a safe property. The gradual but sure rise of -. ---real estate in this city during a very few y ears, - will make any man who is an owner of it, im- mensely rich. , This is the true secret of the great wealth acquired by Astor, and he ner no other man who is immensely rich, ever became so from the profits of their legitimate business alone. - But you have not yet answered my question, and informed me how a man without a capital can make money ?" "That is generally an impossibility. A man must have some capital, even if it is only a dollar; 'but if he has that dollar unincumbered, and places it right, it will grow and make him rich in twenty or even ten years." " What? one do lar, Mr. Brand ?" "Yes, Colonel Vanderhoost, and I can easily explain it to you. But I first wish you to under- stand me: any man living can become rich, if his health is good for ten years, with one dollar in cash, or even credit,.to begin with. . He has only to forget all other objects, disregard everything else, and fix his whole soul in that on'e thing-the determination to become rich. Now, don't let me offend you, although you are a very proud man. Suppose you were to take this dollar, and proceed from this table now to Fulton Market; when you reach it, purchase a basket which will cost you two shillings or thirty-one and, a quarter cents. Having done so, you place it on your arm, and then go across to a stationery store, buy quills, wafers and pencils, to the extent of five shillings and six pence more; place the articles-in your basket, and then proceed'to Niblo's ilank Coffee House, where men congregate with whom yo4 are well acquainted. Convince the people there that you are in earnest, and how long do you suppose it would take you to sell out the.,con- tents of your basket at a profit of fifty or over one hundred per cent.? It would not occupy Jou half a day to do this. Mind you, all pride is to be laid aside. Very well; you have made I'will say thirty-five cents, cleared your basket of its contents, and cleared the basket by the profit. v This basket is paid for by your profits, and becomes stock. Suppose you continue this traic, and clear fifty cents every day for a week ?" "Yes, yes, Brand; but my expenses, tney have got to be paid out of this money. 'Where are they to come from ?" Ah, Colonel, now you shall have the great secret of how to become a rich man. You must not let your daily expenses amount to one half of your profits. If you make but twenty-five cents, spend but a shilling. Water costs nothing ; bread would cost you but six and a quarter cents per day, and you live like a prince on those two articles. You don't really need any more. You can get a good place to sleep in-for six and a quarter cents more, or a shilling at the most." "Stop, stop; that won't do. Get a room for a shilling ?" "Yes. Haveyou never been into one of the numerous lodging houses in town, where you can get a good bed for a shilling ?" CLARENCE BOLTON. 59 "No I am happy to say that I have not. Do you pretend to say that there are any such places ;where a gentleman could go and sleep ?" "I don't know what a gentleman has got to do with it, There are quiet, respectable places in this town, where men-good, honest men-but who are poor, and obliged to economise; there, in a good sized room, with every comfort, and with perhaps two or three companions in the room, they can sleep as sound, if they have an easy conscience,) as if they were lodging at the best hotel in New York, and without losing their own self respect, or the respect of any one else. But to continue. At the end of a week, by adopting and acting up to the rule, you will find your capital increased by your increased business, purchases and sales, until at the end of a week you would have eight. or nine dollars. The same industry and compound increase for a month, would give you fifty dollars; and at the end of a year, you would find yourself in possession of a store with twelve hundred dollars stook in it. Now, all this is practical and easily demonstrated. The secret is in activity and economy. Your fortune is your savings at the start. You are to forget everihiMng else, do-nothing except to make money, and you must sacrifice every needless thing tthat. Do but this .for ten years, and you will find yourself worth fifty thousand dollars; so woul4a beggardthe carried out the idea, if he would be industrious, economical, and invest in productive property, only one half'would be able to beg. What'do you say, Mr. Gould, am I not right ?" "I have no doubt of it whatever ; for the moment any man, who made up his mind to adopt sich a course, had reaped the first fruits of it, he would naturally become the most perfect of misers, and be lost to every feeling of decency. But come, gentlemen, what say you, shall we adjourn to the ladies ? What do you say, Lieutenant ?" "Really, my dear sir,' I have listened with a great deal of attention to what Mr. Brand has said. Do you think, sir, that if I was to save half my pay and invest it as you say, that I aould make a fortune ?" '" Have no doubt about it," replied Mr. Brand. The Lieutenagt in after life followed the ad- vice, and now while we are writing this, he is a commander in the navy, a very rich man, and he got his-first lesson in the art of becoming so at that dinner table. He has since then made thou- sands by playing Shylock, advancing money to brytr offrsatnormo erest, secured some- times by personal jewelry. . Colonel Vanderhoost now rose from his seat and said be must be going. Clarence requested him to remain a moment, and he would then accompany him, at the same time he requested a waiter to inform Mrs. Gould that he was about leaving. The 'servant delivered his message, and then page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 60 *CLARENCE BOLTON. returned with a message desiring Clarence to follow him. He did so, and found Mrs. Gould alone with Fanny. He was absent so long, that Colonel Vanderhoost began to be angry. When Clarence returned,, tears were standing in his eyes. The Colonel pretended not to perceive his emotion, and soon after they both bid Mr. Gould and his guests adieu, and left the dining room for the street. ,The Colonel spoke first: "Well, my boy, what do you think of the dinner party ?" "I was very much pleased, really Mr. Gould behaved-" "Oh. pshaw! the cop is all right-in fact- everything went off in the best manner possible. You are now A No. 1, as the broker would say, with all the family. Pray tell me, if there is no particular reason for secrecy, why my very worthy sister sent for yog, and what she said to you when she got you into her apartments ?" "True. I was absent some time, but she had a great deal to say to me. She asked me a great many questions. First, in reference to my own prospects-what I was going to do, and then about my mother, and'gave me a'very kind message to deliver to her." "What was the message ?" "She told me-to tell her that she would call there during the course of the week, which I said.I would cheerfully do. Then she kissed me on the forehead, and said she felt as though I was al- most as dear to her as any of her own children-wished they were like me in some respects, and then I came away." "Of course, and when you came away, Master Clarence, I suppose you kissed Fanny, too." "Well, I did; for she asked her mother if 'she might not be mysister, and when her mother said yes, she, kissed me. How could I avoid kissing my sister in return ?" "Oh, certainly. Sister, indeed! She will get bravely over that when she gets a little older," said the Colonel, regarding Clarence in a very quizzical manner. "My boy, you are getting on rapidly, what did you do with yourself after I left you? By the way, don't you go to Delmonico's too often. Hundreds of young men are started on the road to ruin in just such fashionable places as that. However, we will go down there now; it's safe for you to do so if you go with me.. I want a glass of marachino and a cigar." When they reached Delmonico's and had seated them- selves at one of the little tables, the Colonel asked Clarence if he smoked? "No, sir, I do not." "Well, I don't know whether to advise you to learn or not. It is a very soothing recreation, and if a man has trouble, it aids him very materially to become a philosopher, that is, to take things coolly and as they come. Perhaps you had better learn to smoke, and quit the practice whenever you get married. -That is one of the indulgences of a bachelor, which he should part* with when he takes a wife. Clarence, I really feel for you, and as we have got a leisure hour, we will have another talk. It won't do you any harm. You are just on the eve of entering into the replities of a man's life. You want a pilot as badly as a good-sized ship that has to pass through Hellgate. I will take upon myself the responsibility of being your pilot. . You don't know your- self yet. You are like a young bear, all your troubles have yet to come. :You are blessed with a most excellent mother. You had a clever father, and I knew and liked him. You have got a col- legiate education. So had I. I had'money and rich connections. You have not got either. I missed the figure, and partly caved in., You shall not. Why? I had no pilot; I haa no expe-. rienced friend, who had been through the mill himself, to advise me in my boyish days. You are, more fortunate, and have got such an one. I am the man, or rather the gentleman, who will take charge of your education in the great school of the world. I have been all my life exchanging my diamonds for cops. I have got any quantity of cop acquaintances, but my diamonds, my trea- sures of sincerity, early ambition, my youth, my education, bright hopes, boyish dreams, love, in- nocence, ability, where are they? All gone; but no matter. It's a funny matter to think of, and when I do so, I despise the very means which were used to rob me of them. Clarence, you have diamonds-rich jewels thqy are, if you will only wear them rightly. Use the world, but don't permit the world to?.zse you; and then instead of being bankrupt in everything you have possessed or hoped for, when you reach fifty years of age, as I am, your ledger, as my worthy mercantile father used to say, will show a different and more profitable result than mine will exhibit to your balance sheet at the end of your fifty years. In your account with the great world, will exhibit the following state of affairs, and by the way I made it out last night," and here the Colonel took out - of his pocket-book, and handed to Clarence a piece of paper. " Read this," said he, " and impress it upon your memoryy" Clarence received the paper, and read as follows:- CLARENCE BOLTON. 61 Dn " To Honor, Position, "Fortune, "Respectabil Home, "Wife, Children, Friends, Cops, "Happiness. Clarence Bolton. aged fifty, in account current with the World. By Innocence, Truth "Energy, ity, . Patience, 1Perseverance, Ol. Honesty, Education, " Being the friend of Colonel Vanderhoost, and having the benefit of his dear bought experience. " Success tp Balance. To complete success brought down to fifty years of age. " There you have it, Clarence. Now you understand what your balance may be when you reach the age of fifty, that I now wear. You will have attained succes', and that means every- thing in this world. You will be indebted tothe world for honor, fame, and all the other good things in life, and the world will have paid you, which it would not have done but for me. In ex- change, the world will he'e only taken from you your youth, innocence, and a few other trifles composing your early stock in trade, as I did. It would have robbed you of your own possessions, as it did me, and given you nothing back but bitter experience." Clarence was very much astonished, and he replied, "Colonel, I feel very much honored by your kindness, and I begin to comprehend you. Let me add one word-if you act my friend-if you do all this for me, and give me the benefit of your experience, and I realize how valuable it will be to me, what can I do in return for it? Will not my attachment, my friendship, gratitude, love, if you make me succeed, be sone slight gratification, and some repayment of what you your- self have suffered ?" "Yes, my boy, it will, indeed. Clarence, did you ever hate anybody ?" Clarence hesitated a moment, and then striking his clenched fist on the table, and with a fierce loQk he exclaimed- " Yes, with my whole heart." Even the Colonel was startled for a moment at the look of that boy, and quietly observed: "Indeed, Clarence, I believe you have; but why and who ?" "Old Wolf; and I'll have revenge too! Let me once get the power, and I'll give him a taste of suffering such as he never dreamed of." "Who, Clarence ?- Wolf ?" said the amazed Colonel. "Why, when did you know that old animal? What has he ever done to y'ou ?" Clarence buried his head in his hands for a few moments, and then made a clean breast of it, told his friend the Colonel the story of Mr. Wolf's infamous and base conduct to his mother in her hour of need, and closed his simple story by expressing his solemn determination to do two things: one was, to get into the Legislature when he became of age, and aid in erasing that infernal statute relating to imprisonment for debt from off the statute book; and the other was, never to rest until he had made old Wolf crouch before him, " for," added Clarence, " he made me and my mother, 'before I was born, kneel to him to ask for the liberation of my father, and refused it." The Colonel was in ecostacies ; he was delighted; he could have hugged Clarence, but he didn't do anything of the kind; he simply remarked: " I bve partially heard of all that before. You are right-you can hate. You see now -that money, power and influence are worth fighting for in the world, for. it is through their means onty that we can accomplish the favorite object of our hearts. Keep your own counsel.,. Never tell any one else what you have this night-told me. Advise with me in everything. As soon as you are clear of that College, I must find something for you to do to support yourself until you are of age. Do you remember what was said about making money at Mr. Gould's ?" "I did and it impressed itself upon my memory. Where does Mas Brand live, or where is his place of business ?" " In Broad street-that wide street where we were the other day, when you asked me what kind of a house that was with it's gable end facing the street ?" "Oh yes, I remember-the old Dutch house you called it." page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 12 CLARENCE BOLTON "Yes, that is the only real Dufch house left standing in New York that, I know of, and I suppose that will not be allowed to stand long. It is a shame.; I wish I wasa a rich man to save that house. The corporation ------_ ought to buy and preserve -----.--.-_- it. It is one of the valuable -~~-_-_-_ relics of another age. There are plenty of modern houses in this town that are occu- pied as Dutch groceries, but that is the only Dutch house occupied by American gro- cers. My old friends, Fer- ris & Co., have occupied it as a grocery for a long time; I but it is getting late, Clar- ence, and we had better be qn the inove Let me see you as often as possible, and don't forget what I have told you, and treasure up, the good advice you have heard from others." The two friends walked up, the street some distance to- gether, and then Clarence bade the Colonel good night, and went home to his mo- ther. It took him a. long time to recount all the doings of the day, but as they were quite interesting he told her all and delivered the message of Mrs. Gould. The widow said but little. Then Clarefrce showed'her- the balance sheet of Colonel Vanderhoost, and told her what he had said. She was rejoiced to find" that her son had evidently formed a'sincere friendship with a man so iduch his senior, who under-' stood this wicked world so well, and estimated it and its population, particularly that portion in this city, at its real value. Ehe recommended Clarence to make an entry in his journal, before he went tQ bed, of all that he had gathered from the Colonel, then she left him to finish his college lessons went and to her own room. cHAPTER X III. CONTENTS-claronee at home-his m9ditation-promises made to his mother-meets Fanny and visits Mrs, Gould, &o ANY of our readers are in the habit of sending notes to the Editor in reference to this story, and most strongly recommend the writer not to fol- low the usual course of a thorough -bred novel writer, and drive ahead with the plot as fast as possible, but to make that a secondary matter, and to indulge more in that style of writing which has become popular in the editorials of this paper. We are inclined to pursue the same idea suggested; in fact, we have done so thus far, and may be forced to do so until we get more leisure and find time to devote a succession of days to the completion of our tale. As it is, the editorials of the Picayune and a page of the story are written at the same. hour and on the same sheet of paper, and it is a rare matter to find a minute to devote to this story more than is re- quired for the particular number for which we are writing. This state of things gives our ar- tist no time or chance to make such drawings as would be desirable to illustrate; for we take up the last chapter, see what it contained, and con- tinue it until we get enough written to make another chapter, when our labor in the story line is at an end, and we can ply our pen at another portion of the paper. In the last chapter we left Clarence Bolton at home with his mother, after having dined with the rich broker, Mr. Gould. Several days elapsed after that dinner, but no particular matter occurred to interrupt him in the quiet and regular manner in which he pursued his studies. A week passed, and he had not heard a word from the Colonel. From some unexplained cause, Mrs. Gould had not called on his mother, as she had promised she would do on the day of the dinner. Clarence did not like this state of things, and wondered what had happened that the lady and Fanny had not called, or why the Colonel had not sent him a line to ask him what he was doing. On one occasion, when he was brooding over this disappointment at not hearing from the new friends that he was just beginning to love and feel interested in, he made up his mind not to think of them any more at all, and if there was to be any further intimacy, they must make the advances. The night had far advanced, and he had been engaged for hours upon his daily duty and studies. When they were satisfactorily finished, he took his seat by the window, and looked out upon the open land which surrounded his mother's residence, and watched the moonbeams playing upon the rippling waters of the East River; he felt then like taking, in the still hours of the night, when every thing about him was hushed and still, a careful reviewal of the events of the past few days, and a searching survey into the new prospects by which he apparently was sur- rounded. Since he had entered College he had begun to think and to act for himself, until his ac- cidental acquaintance with the Gould4amily, and his introduction to Colonel Vanderhoost. Since that event, and particularly since the dinner, he felt assured that, for good or evil, the Colonel was henceforth to exercise a powerful influence over his future destiny. ' He had assumed the po- sition of a friend and adviser, and Clarence had no disposition to deny it to him. He was grate- ful for kindness, and would not for worlds have regarded the Colonel in any other mauner than an old trustworthy acquaintance and friend. He had been the friend of the father of -Clarence, and at'a critical period in the affairs of his parents-why should he not prove equally se to the son ? Clarence had often thought over in his own mind what he shojild do when he graduated from Col- lege, but ever since he had met with the Colonel, he had given himself less concern about that matter, and had partly abandoned a half formed plan of studying a profession : he had determined$ to be guided in a great measure by whatever plan the Colonel should suggest. Then he attempted to reason upon the very singular circumstance that a man so wealthy and prosperous as Mr. Gould, after having shown such a dislike to himself at the time he had saved the life of the rich 62 CLARENCE BOLTON. --' ca page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] e4 CLARENCE BOLTON. man's daughter, should so suddenly change, and without any apparent cause, save the regard of his brother-in-law, extend his hand to invite him to dine at his house and visit in his family! which various surmises were actively being caressed in the mind of the unsophisticated boy, when his attention was directed to a singular appearance in the sky, just above the high land back of the Wallabout, on the 6ther side of the East River. He was not long in perceiving the cause. It was daybreaking, and the wearied scholar closed the window, fhing himself down upon his cot bed, and slept soundly until his mother came to his room and woke him to say that their breakfast was ready, and that ahe only waited-for her son. Clarence got up, dressed himself, hurried down stairs, called for Beppo, and both went to the river and took their morning bathe, where he met lots of Eleventh Ward boys of his acquaintance. By- seven o'clock he was ba again at his mother's house, and partaking with her of her morn - ing meal. The widow noticed the jaded look of her son, guessed'that he had had but little rest, and chided him for working so hard, and the more particularly, for sitting up so late in the night. He replied that he could not help it, and added:I "Never you mind, dear mother, have a little patience, it will all come out right bye and bye, and then I shall have more time to be with you and plenty of time to sleep. Only wait until I get through with my studies, and graduate."1 "Ah, Clarence,I am very sorry that I ever permitted you to go to'College; it has been very expensive, and I do not know what you Will be able to do for a livelihood, after you leave it. We have got very little money left, and how we are to support ourselves until you get a profession; is a question that-t" csmeThincgt unpeted im lfur urria don ihyr , mollefr B adean beosath wnt ote singlyaad tok youi norin tate where that eet occurs, smevet verdys of is elasquantance.- yeed o'rtock ishe was fokoagain aut his mothes hIs anev feltang mmo erat of gornd andits hat hasn foroweding sodsatrou noew riuafor eventting do yo tin themnight.n He. Gold thth? ol"o el t n de: "Neve so toind, dar moetientsae trl motecen't lie new fried orgh new aqianbes -ofn then worll ave. on't ie thi Mr. wihGould adnt ofetieve tha slp acqu ai ntwil provet throutgowito myo nte nd; graute. tutma. CLARENCE BOLTON. " But you will like Mrs. Gould, I am sure; and Then Fanny, mother, what a nice little daugh- ter -in-law she would make, eh ?" Clarence was standing while addressing his mother this obsr- vation, and he had no sooner made it, than he noticed a look of anguish pass rapidly over her face, :nd he sidded "Why, my darling mother, what have I said to displease you ?" " Come and sit down by my side, Clarence; I have often wanted to talk to you on one particular subject, now that you are grown up to be almost a man." Clarence did as he was requested, held his mother's hand in his own, and looked enquiringly into her face, as if he would read what was passing there, while his mother continued: I have never, my dear son, asked an important favor of you. You are my all. I have nothing in the wide world to love but you, and when you cease to love mother, she would not want to live longer." But mother, why do you say this-how can-I ever cease to love you to whom I owe every- hing ?" " Hush, my Clarence, and listen. When your father died, he left me only you. - I never had loved but him, and never could or have loved again. Had I wished, I could have married again, and you perhaps would have found a more comfortable home; but I cherished and loved your fa- ther's memory too well for that, and all the love for earth in my heart has been bestowed upon you, and will be until death." " Why, mother, I have often thought of it, and felt proud that you never married a second time. I never could have loved you as I do, had you been married ever so well, as they say. I had rather live in our humble cottage than in-the handsomest house in town, and be a mere dependant upon a father that ain't mine, though he may be my mother's husband, and find your love divided among brothers and sisters, that are not mine. Tell me mother, what it is that you want me to do, and I will do it at any sacrifice." "There may be a temporary sacrifice, my dear boy, but it will be for your permanent good. We are now all in all to each other, my child, and I want it to always be so while mother lives. I am not healthy, Clarence, and though I have never told you so before, for the fear of alarming, yet I may as well tell yo,u now that this coughing and pain which I have is increasing; and your mother will not live a great many years longer;,but while I do live, love no other one but me." The affectionate boy flung his arms about his mother's neck, and kissed her again and again, while he begged her not to talk of dying, that she would be better of the cough,*and added, "Dear mother, who have I to love but you?" Why, my son, but a moment ago you was asking me how I would like little Fanny for a daugh- ter -in-law ?" said the mother smilingly. Why, mother, she is only fifteen years old, and when she gets older, and I get older, and you get older-" "No, Clarence. You would say then your mother will agree to your marrying Fanny. No, my son,.before your time to select agirl who would make a suitable wife for you arrives, Fanny will pro- bably be married, and perhaps the mother of half a dozen children, but never to you. Your dispo- sition is too sanguine to think of a wife for years. Your character may not be formed until you arrive at mature manhood, and with a mind so constituted as yours, were you to marry at an early period of your life your choice would be such a one as your more experienced years would disapprove, and were you not lucky enough to make choice of one whose tastes and.ideas were not like yours, God help you, my child, for with your impetuous disposition, yours and her future life would be a wretched one. No, no, love mother until you are thirty, and then if you see fit to look about for a companion, well and good. You will not be as old then for a man as Fanny is how for a girl; but I shall never live, my child, to see you reach the prime of your years ; but do not marry uitil then, and promise mother that you will never marry while she lives, or engage yourself to be married until she is dead. You have never told me a lie or deceived me, but pro- mise me this, and my mind will be easy, and then youmay make as many acquaintances as you Please omong young ladies, and I shall, perhaps, be disposed to like little Fanny Gould. Trust mother my child, in this matter, and you will never regret it." Clarence hesitated a moment, and then seeing the anxious expression about his mother's face, he placed his arm about her, drew her to his heart, and as he kissed her lips he whispered, " Dear mother, I will promise, and at all costs will keep it." Hie did keep it in after years, at a cost more dear than he bargained for. The relieved mother returned the kiss,-and a few moments after he yas on his way to old Columbia. When Clarence reached Park Place, the college bell was ringing. At three o'clodk he left the inttton; hedtermined te take s turn down Broadway, drop into Dplmionico's, and, if possible, page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] 1* 66 CLARENCE BOLTON. to find the Colonel. He was on his way there, ond had just passed the City Hotel, when who should he overtake on their way home from school but Fanny Gould and her sister Lydia. 4 Why, Clarence, how glad I am to see you. Why have you not been to see us? I really think you have neglected us since you were at our house, and I feel quite bad about it." "Bless your heart, Miss Fanny, I was expecting that you ind your mother would come up to our house to see my mother before this. Don't you remember your promise ?" " La, me! Have you not seen my uncle, and don't you know that-?" "Know what, Fanny?, I have not seen the Colonel." ' I " Mama has been very ill indeed, and unable to leave her room, and we thought, of course, you would have heard of it from the Colonel. Why sis. and I haven't been to school before to-day sino we last saw you." "But I hope your mother is not dangerously ill?" "Not now she ain't. The doctor says she will get well very fast, and ,then we will all go up to see your mama. Now let's walk along. Of course you will go home with us ?"1 Clarence consented, and the three young people had a sociable chat together down Broadway un- til they reached the home of the two young Iadies. They left Clarence and went directly to their mother's room, and shortly afterwards Fanny returned and told Clarence her mother wished to see him, and together they went up into her apartment.I The sick lady was sitting up in bed, and as Clarence approached her, she took hold of his hand, and drew him towards her, and impressed a kiss upon his -brow. "I am glad to see you, Clarence, and how is your mother? Did you tell her that I was very anxious to make her acquaintance, and that I would call ?" "I did, and she will be very happy to see you." "I have been very ill. Come, sit down by the side of the bed, and talk to me. Sickness makes a great change in people, does it not, Clarence ?" " Yes, indeed, madam; and you look very different. Why you are so thin that one could almost see through you." "And; dear Clarence, I think I can almost see through myself. I feel very different from what I did before this illness came on A sick bed is a sad monitor, Clarence. Tell me all about your mother. She has had a great many troubles, has she not?" Clak'ence said she had, and then went on to relate what his mother had said about her own increasing ill health, and when he had fin. ished, Mrs Gould asked.him if, in case he should lose his mother, he would not feel that he had met with a great loss? The idea was a new one, and Clarence was silent for some time. . He had nev- er thought of it before,.and then he quietly added :"INo, I sh ould not feel bad, for if my mother was to die and leave me I don't think I should live long after her. She is the only being on earth that ever loved me or that I ever loved.' " God bless you my son; continue to love her, and you will never have cause io regret it in after life. I hope she may be spared to you a great many years, for we never know the value of a mo- ther until we lose her. Other relations may be formed, but the tie that binds a widowed mother and her only son, when death severs it, can never be united again in this world. Clarence, it may be some days before I can leave my room to go and make the acquaintance of your mother, don't you think you could persuade her to' overlook all ceremony and come down and spend a day with me-say to morrow; I will send a carriage for her early in the morning, and you *could talk with her to-night ?" Clarence hesitated for some moments, and the thought flashed across his mind of how secluded a life his mother had ever led, and how closely she-had devoted her whole time to the comfort of their own home The idea' of his mother making any acquaintance with families, or of going out any where except to some neighboring church, (for she had long ceased to go down town to the French church in Pine street. thinking the pastor too much a m'an of the world and too devoted to the good things of it to add much to the religious comfort of the afflicted,) or to some place of public amusement. Mrs Gould noticed his hesitation and asked him if he did not think his mother would come? " Really," replied Clarence, " the request is so novel and so unusual a one, that I do not know what to say. It would be to hers like undertaking a long voyage. I wish she would I would like to have her go into company now that I think of it, and not live so secluded. If you will be so kind as to send up in the morning for her, I will do all that I can to persuade her to come and spend the dag with you." CLARENCE BOLTON. 7y " That's a good boy, and Clarence you must come here also as soon as you get through with ybur College duties, and I have a favor to ask of you." "What is it, dear lady? Anything that I can do I will do with pleasure." * "It is this. The saving of the life of my child is not an every day occurenee, and I want to obtain a certain something that I can- always have about me. I wish you to get your likeness taken and be dressed as you were the day that you were in the water. You will get older, and your features will change, and you will-not be so interesting." . "Well, lady, I am in luck, for I have a minia- ture of myself, which was only finished the day previous to the swimming excursion. It is an excellent likeness, so my mother says, and you shall have it to-morrow for I do not want it. "Z The artist is a friend of mine and I suppose, for want of something better to do, he insisted upon painting my likeness, and gave it to me after- wards. I intended to give it to my mother " "That was kind of you, and I wont deprive your mother of it, or at least a copy of it. Does N your friend, the artist, paint for a living ?" "Yes, he lives, and hasn't anything else to get a living by." "Then tell him to paint a duplicate and charge me the usual price, and a 'your mother has the original subject always with her, it will only be fair that she should give me the original likeness, and let her have the, copy." We give the likeness given to Mrs. Gould, which will no doubt please and gratify our rba- ders, as it is the only correct likeness yet In existence of Clarence, who was in his 18th year. Clarence remained until iea was brought up for him in the sick room, then, after having'really won the affection of the mother of Fanny by his kind hearted and frank conversation, he kissed her, bade the two sisters good night, and took his departure for his own home. a page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] CLARENCE BOLTON. CHAPTER XIV, CONTENTS-Clarence revails uponhis mother to visit, fr. ould-note from Colonel Vanderhoost-the game of Domi. noei at Dolmonioo's-a poetio conversation, &o. ,4IjEVER had Clarence returned home so elated in spirits, as on the evening after his afternoon visit fit 1 to Mrs. Gould in. her sick.chamber. He had learned to love her, sand he felt that she had from one cause or another bestowed a portion of her J I motherly affection upon him. Her anxiety to become personally acquainted with his mother had touched the tender chord in his bosom. To gain his confidence there was no way more sure than to be kind and affectionate to his mother. What will not a mother do for a child she idolizes. It weighed more in his estimation than any pos. 'sible kindness which could have been shown to himself. He was now all anxiety to see the two mothers personally intimate, for he felt that if they ever knew each other, they would love and 11be friends. But it was a delicate subject to manage. He knew his mother's determination never to go into any society, or to court any ac- quaintances, and least of all those, that were her superiors in the gifts of fortune and position. Clarence coxnmenced his attack by a simple nar- ration of every thing that had occurred, and added, "My dear mother, do precisely as it pleases you, and if you will not go down to-morrow and see Mrs. Gould, I will call, and I am sure that I can make such explanation as will satisfy her, if she Ehould feel that your non- compliance with her request was rather unkind." "No, Clarence, that will be unnecessary. For your sake, my son, I will do as the rich lady de- sires. . When she sends for me in the morning I will be ready to go." " Thanks, my darling mother; you have made me completely happy ," and the loving boy flung his arms about her neck and covered her face with kisses. "Now, Clarence, consider this matter all settled. Do you call at Mr. Gould's house towards the close of the afternoon and come home with me. There has been a letter sent here for you; I laid it on the mantel piece-go and get it." " Who is it from, mother?: Ah, I see it is-from Colonel Vanderhoost," and Clarence read aloud as follows. "RANIlLN SQUARE. " My DEAR Boy-Why have you not been to see me? . I have been under the weather for a few days, and am most anxious to take a look at you. I send this note to you this evening, and wish yoi to meet 'me at our old dining place to morrow afternoon after you get out of College. Wait for' me if you reach Del. 's first, and don't venture to order dinner until Fcome. Ytou have not yet experience enough to do it and suit my taste. To-morrow-Del.'s-5 o'clock-ydinner and talk. Yours, W. V. "Thursday afternoon." " There, mother, I knew there was some good reason for my not having heard from the Colonel. He has been sick. Why did he not let me know? Of course I will meet him to.-morrow, as he pro- poses; and then after we have dined I can go round to Mr. Gould's for you. Will that suit you, mother ?1. "1 Certainly, my son; perhaps the Colonel will accompany you." "I am sure he will, and now good bye, for I must go up stairs and go to work." The next afternoon Clarence left College, and soon after was at Delmonico's. He looked at the clock, and found that there was still left an hour at his own diRposal, before the time Colonel V. would get there. Determined to amuse himself the best way possible, he passed back into a long room filled with small tables, at which sat many gentlemen engaged in the game of dominoes, and * drinking at the same time strong cffee from out little white cups, and cordials from little wine glasses. It was a new scene to him, though a very common one at the present day. It is a luxury after dinner in the fashionable and mercantile circles of the community, and altogether an un- healthy foreign custom: its introduction has been the cause of sending many of the first literary men of our land to a premature grave, or the mad house. Some of the most gifted minds in the country have been destroyed by this pernicious custom. The disease known as delirium tremens, caused by the ordinary stimulants, may injure mind as well as body; but the upper crust-drunk- ard, who uses strong coffee, burnt brandy, kirschwasser, and other strong cordials, with regu- larity, and to such an extent as to produce a complete prostration of the nervous system, has to increase the quantity and frequency of his potations to re-establish his nervous system, until at last, its vigor is entirely gone, and the mind becomes a wreck, shattered and ruined. Madness fol- lows, and hope of restoration is gone also; for the poor cordial andcoffee drinking maniae rarely, if ever, recovers the use of his reason, and his future is a burdensome state of existence to himself and those who love him, and the sooner death takes the victim, the less is the sorrow. While Clarence was gazing at this motley group of gentlemen around the different tables, and listening to their excited conversation, which appeared to be called forth by the most trifling of all objects-a game of dominoes-a young gentleman, with a nice moustache and an imperial, enter- ed the room, and came and seated himself in a vacant chair at the opposite side of the table at which Clarence was seated. Upon the marble table between them was a set of dominoes, that were not in use.- The gentleman commenced shuffling and mixing them, at the same time addressed Clarence, to know if he was willing to play a game of dominoes. Thank you, sir," replied Clarence; "but I never played a game in my life, and do not under- stand it." "It is a very simple matter to learn it, if you are so disposed," replied the other. "You have but to match the spots or blanks of the different pieces withthe corresponding one, if yen hold it, and that is all. Suppose [ teach you the game ?" "But what is inirolved? Is there any expense or any betting ?" "Oh, no. The proprietor of-the house don't charge for using the dominoes ; but thosewho use them generally play for some trifle, although it's only for a little excitement. Sometimes it's for cigars, drinks, coffee, a dinner or bottle of wine. No gambling-is allowed. If you like, we will, play for a cup of cofee and cordial." "Very well. I would like to learn the game, if only to say that I know how to play it. As you seem at home here, will you call for the articles ?" "Gargon, bring us'two cups of coffee, and bring me one petite verre d' eau de vie. What will you have, sir: a glass of brandy, curacoa, or-kirschwassor ?" 68 CLARENCE BOLTON. 69 page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] CLARENCE BOLTON. The last name struck the fancy of Clarence, and he decided to try it, if only for experiment; but when it was brought to him, and he had sipped a few drops from the small-cordial glass, he placed, it hastily on the table, exclaiming: "Mother of mercy! why, that stuff, sir, is liquid fire. Do people ever drink it ?" "It is strong," replied the stranger;," but if you will notice the other tables, you will perceive that half the people in the room are at this moment partaking of it. Do you know what it is made of?" "How should I? I reckon, however, that it is made of melted iron; it has fairly burned my Inouth. What is it ?" " It is similar to prussic acid, only more reduced. It is formed from the same primitive mate. rials-the kernels of peach stones. Of course it is very much diluted and reduced, and don't kill instantly, as prussic acid would do. Kirschwasser takes a longer time to produce death; but, al- though its operation.is slow, it is equally fatal in the long run. I never drink it.". " Knowing what you have just told me, I should take you to be a precious fool if you did. Ex- Ouse me, sir, but who does drink it ?" " Most generally broken down merchants, who need high excitement; foreigners; sometimes young men, who are not acquainted with tle secret of its noxious and deadly qualities, but be- cause they see others use it, and see it on the .Ilist of wines, &c.,' at the principal hotels, coffee houses, and restaurants; literary young men drink it, when they wish to get into a state of mind bordering on frenzy. Heaven preserve you, my stranger friend; did you ever read poetry ?" " Certainly; I am passionately-fond of poetry that combines good sense and original ideas, with good rhyme." "I can tell you a secret worth knowing. But first, do you ever Write poetry ?" "No; I can't say that I do. At least, I never tried." "Wait a while, untilyou get in love: that will fetch out the poetry, which I am quite sure you have got in you. Do you know why great poets go mad and die early, come the comet dodge over the world, astonish it, and then go out and go off? It is drink, generally speaking; but the high- est flights-the most astonishing feats in poetry, are engendered by the most infernal concoctions of stimulants, which the world calls 'cordials,' and think they are harmless. Do you ever read Byron's poetry ?" "Yes; I have read samples of his poetry." "Samples ? at school or college, for your exercises, I suppose. Well, let me give you a sample, which you never have read or seen in either of those places, I'll be bound. It is from Byron's Cain. Lucky I have it in my pocket to read to you. Now listen: ENTER LUCIFER. Lucifer-Mortal! Cain-Spirit, who art thou ? Lucifer-Master of spirits. Cain-And being so, canst thou leave them, anawalk with dust? Lucifer-I know the thoughts of dust, and feel for it, and with you. Cain-How !'you know my thoughts? Lucfer-They are the thoughts of all worthy of thought: 'tis your immortal part which speaks, within you. I Cain-What immortal part? This has not been revealed: the tree of life was withheld from us by my father's folly, while that of knowledge, by my mother's haste, was plucked too soon ; and all the first is death! Lucifer-They have deceived thee; thou shalt live. Cain-I live, but live to die; and, living, see nothing to make death hateful save an innate clinging, a loathsome, and yet an invincible instinct of life, which I abhor, as I despise myself, yet caniot overcome, and so I live. Would that I had never lived! Luc~fer-Thou livest, and must live forever ; think not the earth, which is thine outward cover- ing, is existence. It will cease, and thou wilt be no less than thou art now. . Cain-No less ! and why no more ? Lueger-It may be thou shalt be as we Cain-And ye? Lucifer-Are everlasting. Cain-Are ye happy? Lucifer-No. Art thou? Cain-How should I be so ? Look on me Lucifer--Poor clay, and thou pretendest to be wretched! Thou! Cain--I am; and thou, with all thy might, what art thou? Lucifer-One who aspired to be what made thee, and mould not have made thee what thou art. Cain-Who! thou lookest almost a god; and- Lucifer-I am more: and having failed to be one, would be naught save what I am. He con- quered ; let him reign! Cain-Who ?' Now, my young friend, what do you think of that style of writing? Rather on the high key, ain't it ?" " I admire it very much. Byron was a great writer." "Exactly; but his shades were caused by drink. He drank all sorts: brandy, gig and kirosh- wasser. The above specimen was written under the influence of kirsch. "How? Lord Byron did not write it ?" "Of course he did; but he had been drinking kirschwasser until he felt like Lucifer himself, and his imagination excited by the drinks, took the turn you have heard. If he had been drinking gin instead, he never would have wrote Cain in the style he did. Do you understand me ?" "Not perfectly ; although I have a faint idea of what you would convey to my mind." "I will endeavor to explain more clearly. Suppose now that one of our New Yorkplay writers had been called upon towrite that portion of Cain, how do you suppose he would have rendered it? You must suppose him to have had the blues, like Byron, resulting from a high spree, only with this difference, that the American writer Iad been corned on plain three cent gin. Such pieces, mark you, are not written until after the spree, and when the writer has the shakes and incipient horrors upon him, feels smoky and snaky about the head, is writing, and at the same time drinking or steaming up to come round again. It is at such a time, the writer would produce a Cain, or some other wretched character. One of our modern geniuses, if called upon when drinking on dead liquor, would have produced the followiing Cain, under precisely the same circumstanoen ENTER LUCIFER. L ucifer-Hoss! Cain-Who the - are you? Lucifer-Me, myself, and nobody else Cain-Well, what of it? Don't be coming in here to kick up a muss. Why don't you keep company with your own fellows? What are you driving at, any way? Lucifer-Oh, shut up. I know exactly how you feel, and I am for and with you. Ivs- ain't it? Cain-How! You know how I feel? Lucifer-To be sure I do. Anybody what has got any brains tods too strong occasionally. It's the liquor that makes you so infernal smokey, and speaks within you. Cain-What! You don't tell me that? Blame my skin if I ever knew it before. The fact is, I must cut it. My old man has often told me not Io drink, but hang me, If he ever told me that I'd feel this way. My mother has cautioned me to taper off. Why in the end it will kill a fellow. Lucifer-Hold on a bit; you will get over it, and feel better, if you don't lush any more. Cain-I'll get over it? You don't say say so, for hang me if I hain't got the horrors; every. thing is hateful, nothing hopeful,- I'm blowed if I wouldn't kill myself, or do something horrible, but lam too used up. I abhor myself; blast meif I ain't loathsome to myself; I cannot cut liquor; I wish I had neverbeen born. Lucifer--Oh, go away with your nonsense. You have got to go ahead andget your living some way or another. It's no use knocking under; and even if you do die, you can't help it;you only/ get rid of your old clothes. You will still be shying about somewhere. You won't have any more or less tin than yoS've7got now. Cain-No-less, and why no more? Lucifer-Why ? You will be like me, that's why, and I haven't got' a mnag, and nio tick neither.. Can - And yet you get liquor ? Lucefer-Lots of it anywhere. Suck it through straws on the dopk Cain-Are you happy? I 70 CLARENCE BOLTON. 71 page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] 72 CLARENCE BOLTON. Lucifer--As a cricket, if I can get the liquor to fire up in the morning. No; I'm blamed if I am happy. Are yon? Cain-Me ? Just take a look at me, old fellow. Do I look as though I was? What should make me happy?I Lucifer-Poor devil! What's the matter with you? What have you got to make you unhappy about? Gammon! It won't do. You are only making yourself believe you are unhappy, or, that drink does it. You have got no chance to be wretched. Bah! Cain--I am. I feel like Julius Coesar Hannibal; but you are such an old sucker. Who in the are you, any way ? Lucifer-Me? I am one who aspired to be somebody; but, I took the liquor, and. it has given vme fits-aye, fits. It has fixed you too, or will do it. Cain-You are right. Go it while you are young; and yet you look, methinks, as though you might have succeeded to become somebody, and- Lucifer-'Taint no matter. I ain't nobody. I failed, and now I wouldn't give a straw to be anything else than what I am. I'm content, as they say in - row. He got the best of me, now let him shine out as much as he pleases. Cain--Who?' "What do you think of that, young gentleman ?" "Me, sir. I really yet don't comprehend it." "Then all I have to say is this. -Both of these productions are a fair sample of what different liquors would produce upon the minds of men of genius in any country, or in any age. Kirch- wasser, at a shilling a glass, would produce Cain No. 1, and kill the writer early, and thee cent gin would produce Cain No. 2, and eventually send the writer to the a'm's house I o die at his ease." -"Well, sir, I am very much obliged to you for the information I have derived, but, meanwhile, our dominoes have been lying idhe, but I will willingly pay the amount of our bill" "Could not permit it at all. Will you favor me with your name ? Hero is my, card." And as Clarence looked at it, he read the name of Frederick Dressy, whom he had often heard his College companions allude to as one of the most wealthy and accomplished bloods of the city. Clarence bowed and expressed his pleasure at having made the acquaintance of Mr. Dressy, at the same time modestly observed, "I have no card, but my name is Clarence Bolton. I am a student at Columbia College, and am here to meet Colonel Vanderhoost." " My dear fellow, do you know the Colonel? He is a friend of mine; here he comes. It was Colonel Vanderhoost, and as he approached the two sitters, he extended his hand to Clarence, and at the same time remarked, "Ah, my dear Clarence, I am glad to see you, and pre. cious company you have got into. How do you do, Fred? How came you acquainted with my protege ?"- " Why, Colonel, it's only a moment since I was aware that he was an.acquaintance of yours. I found a very nice looking youth alone here, and I scraped an acquaintance with -him, for the purpose of playing a game of dominoes. We have neglected the dominoes to talk of literature." "That is all, is it? Why, Clarence, I was startled. Do you know that this young gentle- man is one of the most accomplished rou's in town, and would corrupt i convent. Have care. I. don't think I shall permit you to continue his acquaintance." " Ah, Colonel, you do megreat injustice in speaking of me in this manner. I a roue? Why, Colonel, if one-half of the stories told about you and your younger days are true, I am a saint in the comparison. But never mind him, Mr. Bolton, I am proud to have made your acquaint- ance, and I dare say we shall meet often, and now I must bid you good bye." After the departure of the fashionable youth we have introduced to our readers as Mr. Dressy, -the Colonel merely remarked, "Clarence, I want to give you that young man's history before you associate with him, and I have no time now. Tell me all that has passed since I saw you ?" Clarence did so. " Bravo, my boy, and your mother and my sister have been spending the day with each other. I want to witness so pleasant a sight as seeing them together, and as I can say what I, wish to say to-day to you as we are walking, we may as well proceed at once to Mr. Gould's house." When they reached there the lamps were lighted, and they found all of the family, save Mr. Gould, in the room of his wife, and the mother of Clarence with them. CLARENCE BOLTON. 78 CHA PTER XV. CONTENTS-Clarence and mother visits the Gould family-Clarence's prospects-Mrs. Gould and Fannyvisits the mo- ther of Clarence-a love scene-an interval of five years. NE of the most happy hours that Clarence had ever known -was that at the residence of Mr. Gould, where he saw all those he sincerely loved grouped together about him, and his mother ap- parently enjoying herself, as well as any of the rest of the party. Clarence had a sociable chat with Fanny, and the fair girl seemed as much pleased as himself, and when the time arrived for his mother's departure, there was a cordial embracing and shaking of hands, as much so as if they had known each other all their lives. The Colonel volunteered his services, as the evening was a pleasant one, to form one of Mrs. Bolton's escort to her residence. As they walked homeward the Colonel conversed mostly about Clarence and his prospects, and detailed a plan he had formed in his own mind in respect to Clarence, with which the widow seemed pleased, but required time to think over it. When they reached the cottage the Colonel bade them both good night, and came down town again, perfectly satisfied that his protege was in a fair train to justify all the expectations he had formed of him. When the mother and son were alone, the former, ever evincing a mother's inte- rest, asked how he had spent the day? Clarence told her, with his usual frankness, and the fond mother cautioned him long and earnestly against drinking spirits, cordials, wines, or any drinks that would intoxicate. "It is a bad habit, Clarence; and by all means shun it. The habit grows upon a person as he increases in years, until finally the unhappy individual becomes a perfect sot, and worthless to society. We also had an abundance of wines at dinner to- day, and I was very glad to perceive that your interesting friend Fanny did not drink any." "She never touches a drop, mother; she told me so with her own sweet mouth the day I dined there." "My son, for an elderly lady to use wine or strong drink is bad enough ; but for a young and otherwise innocent girl to get/into the habit of drinking wine, is perfectly shocking. It leads in the end to ruin, for it is the parent of every indiscretion, and must overthrow all domestic happi- ness. I perceive clearly, Clarence, that.it will not be long before your friend Colonel Vander- hoost will insist upon introducing you into what is called the fashionable circle of our city so- ciety, and now I beg of you that if ever, in after years, you should think of forming a Trarriage connection, and it should be among that class, ascertain truly whether the young lady you may select has been accustomed to wine drinking in the home where she has been brought up, whether of parents or guardians. If you find that such is the case, break off at once, in your own mind, all hope or desire for such a union. unless you design to trifle with the honor and happiness of your and herself. No young lady is safe to become a wife who has acquired a habit of wine drinking in the days of her girlhood., You have been a witness of the sad effects which the habit produces upon young men of your, acquaintance. I assure you, Clarence, that it produces still more uncertain effects upon young girls, and under its infiuenee they are very much exposed to temptations which they have not the strength of mind to resist. I speak of the daughters of the wealthy class, such as your acquaintance, Mr. Gould, claims to belong to." " Why do you allude, dear mother, to danger in the habit with that class of young ladies from wine drinking more than to any other-the middling er poorer classes, for instance ?" "Because, my child, they are more exposed. They are more indolent and idle.- They have~ very little to do between the interval of leaving school and of getting married. They read novels,, play, dance, dress, eat and drink,-and receive company ; their minds are not occupied in a useful manner. That is bad enough, but added to it the stimulus of the richest viands, highly seasoned 10 page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] CLARENCE BOLTON. food, and wine drinking at dinner, these things, in connection with the false sentiments acquired by foolish novel reading, not unfrequently produce the most unhappy consequences. That is not the kind of education I wish for the young lady who will become my son's wife. Now lt's talk of something else. What do you think of the proposal made by the Colonel? I was really inter- ested in his plans for you, and as he proceeded to unfold them to me, I began to perceive clearly, for the first-time, his real views in placingyou on a good footing with the Gould set. Have done him wrong. -I thought he had somewhat different views, which did not please me so well. How truly I thank him for his kindness in interesting himself so deeply in your affairs my acquiescence in his views shall convince him. Until now, Clarence, I have never dared to look forward in your career beyond the approaching day when- you will graduate from College. We can safely reach that point, and aftei that my trust was solely in Providence, that he would open some new career for you. I know that I can now be of no further use to you, Clarence, except to watch over y ou at home, and provide for all your little comforts; but the means to do so must now come from my boy. I have learned from the conversation of Colonel Vanderhoost to night, that he has taken everything into consideration-is aware of our exact circumstances, and that his plan for your benefit for the next five years is a good one, and will succeed. But, five years, Clarence! what may not arise in five years? You will then be twenty three years old. I am satisfied the Colonel knows the feasibility of what he has proposed, and his plan has been fully considered" The mother was right. The Colonel had provided a plan fer,the first campaign of Clarence, and had been carefully maturing it, unknown to any one besitle himself, until he conversed with Mrs. Bolton about it that evening. "Well, mother, I like it; and if it meets your approval, let the Colonel act as he pleases, and I will do all that he wishes me to do. Now, mother, it is near your bed time, and I have two or three hours work to do before I go to sleep. How I do detest these College lessons, for I am now anxious to do something for myself. Never mind; a few days more, and they will be over with' Is Mrs. Gould coming up here, mother ?" "I believe so-at leist, she told me that she should do so, and bring her daughters with her, as soon as she was able to leave her sick room." "How I wish I knew when that would be, for I want to be at home, and would liketo take the girls to see the ship yards." "That is easily arranged, for they will spend the afternoon, and now good night, Clarence." 74 CLARENCE BOLTON. 75 Several days passed away, and Clarence was busily engaged in pursuing his studies, and had seen-no more of his friends, except'the Colonel, who had called to spend an evening at the cottage, and to talk more fully of his plans, with the mother of Clarence. About three week; after the widow had visited Mrs. Gould, a carriage drove up opposite the gate-way. Clarence had been gone over two hours his mother was occupied in one of the upper rooms, and her attention was attracted to the arrival of the carriage by the barking of Beppo. She raised the window, and looked out to discover the cause of the alarm from the dog. She perceived the carriage at the gate, and became certain to whom it belonged, when the carriage door was opened, the steps let down, and the lovely Fanny descended them. "It is only Beppo, mother; he don't' know me yet," was spoken in the sweet tones which had already become familiar to the ears of the widow. She descended and opened the door. Beppo's bark was no longer heard; the sagacious animal had already recognized the young girl, and was showing the fact in every possible way to the manifest delight of Fanny, who was returning his rough caresses very earnestly. "Don't be alarmed, Mrs. Gould," said the widow, as she saw'that the elder visitor hesitated, and hastened to the gate to meet her. Mutual salutations followed, and the widow asked after Lydia.,- "She was obliged to remain at home. I have only brought Fanny." As they were preparing to enter the house, Mrs. Gould remarked, "I have come to spend the day with you, as I promised," and turning to the coachman, she ordered him to drive home, and to return in the evening about dark. "Come here, Fanny," said the widow, and the lively girl was in her arms, and kissed her affec- tionately, and the party entered the house. After Mrs. Gould and Fanny were seated, the for- mer observed, "I suppose Clarence is at College ?" " Yes," replied the mother, "he has been gone some time, bpit he-will be back by three o'clock, and meanwhile I hope Fanny will make herself at home, anid I cheerfully give her permission, if she gets tired of hearing two mothers talk, of rummaging every nook and corner of the cottage for her amusement." After a while the two. ladies commenced 4 conversation in regard to their respective domestic matters, and Fanny quietly slipped out of- the room, and Beppo followed, and she seemed to take it for granted that the favorite dog was deputed to do all the honors during his master's absence. With him she proceeded to a general inspection of t'e premises. First, she visited the garden, and looked at the flowers, then the kitchen, and viewed all those arrangements, and finally she found herself in a room on the second floor, and took a seat by a window which overlooked the East River. There was a table covered with papers, and books lay scattered all about. She knew that she was in the room of Clarence, and somehow or the other she felt that she loved every ar- tiole in that old room better-a great deal better-than anything about the splendid mansion of her father. That old pine table possessed a charm about it, which she had never reoognised in mahogany elsewhere. For a long, long time she'leaned her head upon that table, and thought about Clarence, the singularity of their acquaintance, and a hundred other matters, until the truth burst upon her innocent mind that-she loved Clarence. Then tears glistened in her eyes, and fell upon poor Beppo's face, which was turned upwards to her own, 'as though he was en- deavoring to satisfy himself what it was all about. " Beppo-good dog, come here. Do you love me ?" and she placed her head lovingly on his. "I love your master dearly, and why should I not? He saved my life when nobody else would have done it but him, and I do and Will love him for it." Beppo did not make any objeotrons, and probably had none, to Miss Fanny's loving Clarence as' much as she pleased. Then she laid her back in the chair, and while thinking over the matter fell asleep. How long she slept, she knew not, but time flew, and when she awoke Clarence was seated in a chair close by her side, and watching her features with deep emotion. He had 'never seen anything before half so beautiful. " I have caught'you, fair Fanny, in my own den, and you must pay the penalty," and without more ado, he iblaced his arm around her waist, held her in the seat, and covered her, lips with kisses. " Don't dear Clarence,'' exclaimed the blushing girl, " It isnot fair ; I was asleep and dreaming." "PDreaming of What, Fanny ?" " Of you, Clarence, and the last I remember was, telling Beppo how dearly I loved you? It was Clarence's turn now to do a little blushing, and as he listened to the honest and innocent confession of the lovely girl, he gradually withdrew his arm, and looked earnestly into her face, page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 76 1LARENCE BOLTON. as if to read there what kind of love she meant. "You love me, dear Fenny, and so I do love you. You shall be my darling little sister, and I will-" "No, Clarence, I don't want to be your sister at all. I love you, and if you love me, I will be your darling little wife, when we are old enough to get married." Clarence was speechless.0 " Oh, Clarence, what have I said--what can you think of me ? " Everything that is kind, good, and lovely. But remain one moment where you are." Fanny was making preparations to leave. "I came in through the garden gate, and our mothers, who are very busy down stairs, don't know that I ain here. Now, have a little patience, and listen to me, and be a good little girl, and don't say a word. You are very young ; your father is very rich and very. proud, while I am very poor, and have nothing on earth but my self and my loved mother, and yet, Fanny, it will not be very many years before I shall have something else than- my mere self. I shall strive hard to win a name-to make money-to be somebody-and when I have done all this-when I have accomplished what is a fixed purpose of my life, then, dear Fan- ny, to hear just such words from your sweet lips as I have heard, would make me very happy; but now it is wrong-it is very wrong for me to listen, or to take advantage of your kind and generous sentiments towards me, or to say I love you. In a few years, you will see thousands that you will love better than Mne, and-" "No, Clarence, never-if I know what love-is." "Listen a moment longer You think so now; but time maires great changes, and infive years, what may not happen ? Until then, were I to breathe the word love to you, or until you are older, it would be base and wrong, and I must not do it; but, Fanny, you, child as you are, and boy as I am yet, you have made me feel towards you as I never felt before to any living being, and we are neither of us old enough to be hypocrites. Wait until you are five years older, and then, Fanny, if you do not change, I will talk to you as I cannot do now." "Clarence, are you angry with me ?" - "Very, very," replied the youth, as he pressed her in his arms, and kissed the tears from off her cheeks, "but now, Fanny, we must go down stairs; you go first, and I will follow presently. An- gry,? how could I be angry with you, but we are both too young to talk about love yet." Fanny was not pleased, yet she did as Clarence requested her to do, although she did not compre- hend the delicacy of his conduct and language. Clarence did not believe that she knew what real love was. He regarded her as too young to have ever dreamed of such as love. He was in error. She had read, heard, and seen love, and knew the'meaning of the word as well, aye, a great deal bet- ter than Clarence himself. He was the novice. When Clarence was left alone in his room, he muttered to himself, "Well, this is a queer business; but nonsense, she is hardly in her- teens; she don't know what she was talking about. Love! a nice business I shall make of it. What with my promise to my mother, and the views of her purse proud father upon that point, it is quite as well-as it is" After a few miuntes he left his room, passed through the garden, and came around and entered the gateway as though he had just returned from-College. He was greeted very cor- dially by his mother and Mrs. Gould, and he greeted Fanny equally cordially, who received it in silence, which caused her mother to exclaim, "Why, my daughter, what is the matter with you ? Have you not got a kind word for Clarence ?" "I am very glad to see Clarence, mother." " That is as it should be. Now Clarence, come and sitby me; I have got something to tell you." Clarence complied, and she continued: "Your mother and myself have held a very long conver- sation about matters and things in general, and as soon as I have gone, she will tell you all about it. When you graduate you must let me know. I shall take Fanny and Lydia to hear your ora- tion. I suppose you will make one of course. Then we shall see what can be done after you leave College." Clarence thanked the kind hearted lady, and expressed himself much pleased that she should so honor .im as to be present when his class graduated." " Clarence, will you give me Beppo to keep ?" interrupted Fanny. The party addressed looked at Fanny and then at his faithful dog, and thought of his conversation with Colonel Vanderhoost. There was a hard struggle; but after a moment, he replied: " Yes; Fanny, I will give him to you with pleasure ; for I am sure you will be kind to him. I hail miss him very much; but I suppose after I graduate I shall not need a dog, or if I do, I will oome and borrow Bep. Will he be content to remain with you, do you think ?" OLARENCE BOLTON. 77 " Oh, I am quite sure he will, unless you try and coax him from me. Now you won't do it, will you No.,if he remains contentedly with you, I will never use any exertions to get him from you." "That's a dear, Clarence; and now, mother, Beppo is really and truly my dog to (keep after to- day. May I take him with us in the carriage when we go ?" ",Yes, I will coax him into the carriage with you. See how he watches us. I honestly believe he fully comprehends every word we have been saying. You must be a kind -mistress to him, Fanny, for my sake as well as his own." "I will be, Clarence, for your sake as well as his own." After a few words more, the party took their departiire for home. Not long after, Clarence graduated with the highest honors of old Cojumbia. The plans formed for him by his friend Colonel Vanderhoost were carried into effect, and during a period of five years, Clarence pursued the even tenor of his way, and so did all those whose names have appeared in these chapters. Our next chapter will open as Clarence found himself at the expiration of this interval. page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] CLARENCE BOLTON. CHAPTER XVI, CONTET-Colonel waniderhoost 'becomes rich-Clarence takes the situation of clerk In a mercantile honse-.Fanny Gould v ,rr ed-Clarence becomes a succesefal merchant, enters the arena of polities, and is nominated for the Leislature. - 1 - RECISELY five years after the event related in the last chapter, where we left Clarence at the J close of his collegiate career, we find him at the LI present time under very different circumstances. It is the fall season of the year, and the prepara. tions are making for the primary elections, and the friends of Clarence in the old Eleventh have determined that he shall be a candidAte for the Legislature at Albany-a position which Clar- ence, for reasons which we have stated in a for- 1mer chapter, is most desirous to obtain ; but pre. X1, vious to our going into the details of the manner in which a young aspirant for legislative honors tily review the career of Clarence for the five years past. He still continued to reside at the cottage with his mother, who was living, though her health had become much worse, and her days were evi- dently numbered. The cottage was no longer in the open fields, but surrounded by modernbrick houses. The Widow Bolton was still a recluse, and only received visits'from a few friends, her old neighbors, and Mrs. Gould, the wife of the rich broker, whom she had learned to regard as a sister. Colonel Vanderhoost had left the Custom House By aid received from his brother -in- law, he had made extensive purchases in real estate on the islana,.which had risen in price during a year of speculation, that the Colonel found himself an independent man-comparatively speak- ing--at least he was worth fifty thousand dollars, which he had prudently invested in productive realestate, that gave him an income of three-thousand dollars a year-a sum quite sufficient, as the Colonel wisely observed, to support any gentleman in ease and affluence, particularly if he had been through the mill, and had learned the value of money and how to spend it judiciously. The Colonel now occupied a two story house, in one of the streets which run out of Broadway up near Fourth street, and attached to it was a small stable, where he kept a horse and light pleasure wagon His household arrangements were superintended by an old servant that had lived with his family in prosperous days, and with a boy to attend to the horse and carry notes for the Col- onel, made up his bachelor establishment. Hardly a day passed that he did not receive a visit from his grateful friend, Clarence, who had become as dear to the Colonel as if he had in reality .been his own son. The broker, Mr. Gould, continued to increase in wealth, and it was supposed that he was worth. nearly two millions. His whole soul had been bent on the acquisition of wealth, and his exertions had been blessed in that regard, for it seemed as though anything he touched turned to Gould. After graduating from College, Clarence, in compliance with the wishes of the Colonel accepted a situation in the counting-room of a wealthy merchant, who had become interested in him from the Colonel's representation, and the more particularly so from the fact, that he was strongly recommended by Mr. Gould-a recommendation easily procured by the Colonel, and which had great weight with Mr. Cottonship, the merchant, who had frequent occasions to ask favors of the banker. He agreed to give Clarence a salary from the commencement, to increase it every year, and to afford him an opportunity of acquiring a complete commercial education. This wus very satisfactory to Clarence and to his mother, and he entered the counting-room of bottonship & Co. under the most favorable auspices. He had his evenings to himself, and these he devoted to ac- quiring the French and Spanish languages. He visitedwegularly at the house of his friend Mr. Gould, who always treated him with uncommon courtesy. About two years were spent in this manner, and then Fanny made her entrance into society. Up to this time the intimacy of herself and Clarence had been of the most intimate kind : Clarence liked her, and but ,for his promise to his mother, would have loved her. Her going into society occasioned him no utseasiness; but after one winter of dissipation, Clarence learned to regard her with any other feelings than those of a love, consequently it was without the least emotion he listened to the following address from the Colonel: "Well, Clarence have you heard the news ?". "No; what news ?" "Your favorite Fanny is to be married." "To whom, pray ?" "Can't you guess. Who have you seen most wish her of late ?" "With most everybody." "Well, the happy man is that young Dresser, that I have so often talked to you about." "What! that notorious libertine and rou6 gambler, and I don't know what vice he does not possess Why, Colonel, you surprise me. Does she love him ?" "Yes, I suppose so, as well as a girl that is fond of society can love. As for his qualifloation, he is of good family. Has the reputation of wealth, which I know to be false ; that he is dead broke, and marries Fanny because she has money. He has taken care of that, for the settlements are all drawn, and old Gould gives him fifty thousand dollars to go into business with'one of his own clerks, and settles five thousand dollars a year upon Fanny as long as he lives, and then he is to leave her the principal." " But, Colonel, knowing the sort of person that this young man is, it) astonishes me that you don't interfere. Why not exert your influence with Mr. Gould, and break off the engagement ?" "Pooh, pooh, nonsense! I interfere? I like that! She has got to be married to somebody, and- Fred. Dresser may as well be the man as anybody else. I don't care a' pin who it is, so'long as it ain't you, Clarence. I think, by the way, you might have exercised some influence to break it off, Clarence ; but the fact is, you have treated her very carelessly. * She told me all about her. love talk with you when she visited the cottage, and I fancy she is pretty well aware that you don't in- tend to get married-at least to her." A few weeks after this event, Mr. Dresser and Fanny were married at the resi4ence of Mr. Gould. It was private, but Clarence and his mother were there, and so was the Colonel. Ih11T IIIi The effect of the'marriage of Fanny upon the mind of Clarence was rather favorable than oth4e Wise. It had taught him a lesson in the changeableness of women, and young ladies in partieul0r 78 79 CLARENCE BOLTOX6 page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] 80 CLARENCE BOLTON. and the Colonel did not fail to deepen in the young man's mind the impression. At the expira~ion of the first three years that Clarence was in'the counting-room, he found that he had made at least a very independent position. His employers gave him a liberal 'salary, and he was enabled to surround his mother witha thousand comforts that she had never before possessed. He had gain- ed the entire confidence of his employers, and had made himself so useful that they began to regard bim with r eal respect, and his tasks were such as pleased him much better than when he first en- tered upon a mercantile career. He was of age too, and then he found that all his ambition when a student, to gain fame from knowledge, had vanished, and in place of it he had acquired a fond- ness for trade and money getting. During this time, however, he was making a great many ac- quaintances among the young men of his ward. He had espoused the democratic side and attended the political meetings of that party in his own ward and at Tammany Hall; at the former he was found very useful, and he was not unfrequently called upon to act as secretary and appointed on committees, and he began to love the excitement of them. He was at last elected as a member of one of the Tammany Hall committees for his ward, and considered the honor no small one, and went into all the duties it involved with as much eagerness as those generally do who have an object to gain; but as yet Clarence had none.' His entering into the political field met with the Colonel's approval: that gentleman clearly saw what it would lead to-that Clarence would early form acquaintances that could push him forward into any position that his talents qualified him to fill, and that he would fill any position with credit, Colonel Vanderhoost well knew. When Clarence had finished his fourth year in a counting-room, and offer was made to him, so clearly to his advantage, that even his- employer consented and advised his acceptance of it. One of his classmates in College had also entered a counting-room to learn business at the same time that Clarence did, and their acquaintance was continued, and they had frequent opportunities of meeting. The name of this friend was Harry Lee. He was the son of a very wealthy man, who had formerly been a merchant, but who had retired from business with a large fortune. Clarence, had accompanied Harry ,frequently to his own house, had become acquainted with the old mer- chant, and was a favorite in his house. The son was very anxious to go into business on his own account, and was fully persuaded that he should succeed if he did so. At last he brought the father into his views and persuaded him to gratify his wish., and proposed that Clarence should be- come his partner,, and old Mr. Lee furnish the necessary capital for the new firm. The proposi. tion was accordingly made to Clarence, who, after some deliberation and a great deal of hesitation, concluded to accept, and these two young men became partners, entered into business, and be-' came one of the commercial firms of New York. it is astonishin' how anxious young men in this city, who have been but a short time clerks, are anxious to get into mercantile business on their own account. This ambition is almost uni- versal among American young men who are clerks in counting -rooms and stores. The apprentice is not more anxious to have become of age and have, his time expire, than is the clerk. This am- bition has ruinetl thousands of promising young men who, if they had prudently remained as clerks until they arrived at the age of thirty or thirty-five, would have acquired a solid know- ledge of business, and that experience so necessary to ensure success in mercantile affairs.' But these young men are not disposed to wait. , They are aware of the fact that a mere clerk is regard- ed as a nobody in New York; hence their anxiety to get into business on their own account-to stick up a shingle oftheir own, marry and settle down in life. Even this matter of marriage is a cause of more failures in New York, than any other. Instead of regarding a young man who has a'sure position and a certain and liberal income as a clerk, as an eligible match, most young ladies regard him and his prospects with careless indifference.. This well known fact has stimula- ted thousands to leave. a good position where they were getting twelve or fifteen hundred dollars a 'year, to 'go into business where they could not make the half of it. But their object was accom- plished; they married, spent three times their earnings, made a great display for a few months, and then failed and became bad bankrupts, and a reputation among their creditors of dishonest men-a reputation which clings to a man for a life time, and not only places a barrier in the way of his ever becoming a meroha nt again, but even prevents his getting a clerkship with any mer- chant ; for a character for honesty in a young man, is like that of chastity in a young woman-- once suspected, all hope is lost. JIn Europe there is no such false feeling in regard to going into business. A man who would succeed eventually as a merchant goes into a long course of train- ing, and his position in society is not at all- affected by the fact that he is a clerk. Those clerks of concerns that are doing a large business is regarded as a much more desirable connection ini 'I CLARENCE BOLTON. matrimonial matters, than the young merchant, whose success is doubtful. Public opinion is regulating that matter in this country. The fact, that out of every one hundred young men that goes into business at an early age in this city, ninety-five become hopeless bankrupts in the course of a few months or years, has made the community somewhat suspicious of merchants, and new beginners in that line rank at about the same grade as young doctors, without patients. Fif- teen years ago a young lady was very loth to unite her destiny with that of a clerk-nothing less than a merchant would serve her turn, But things are changed. . Most of those who were young merchants then, have gone to the dogs; while these who retained the more modest, but more cer- tain position of clerks, are now in existence and retain good incomes, or aTe merchants themselves Clarence had commenced business under the auspices we have noticed, and at the opening of this chapter he had been a year engaged in business on his own account, and with the sanguine disposition of youth, had extended it to an extent far beyond the capital of his firm. Still he had met with no losses, and everything had gone on prosperous thus far. His partner was not as active in business as he himself and did not devote his time so closely to it as Clarence did. He was a man fond of society, and more addicted'to pleasure and amusementI; so the principal ar- rangement fell upon Clarence. He was assisted in all his plans and operations with the advice of the Colonel, who rarely let a day pass.that he did not visit the counting-room of Lee & Bolton, in Broad street. Mrs. Bolton, the mother of Clarence, did not like the arrangement at all. Her son was so engrossed in business night and day, and so mixed up with politics, that she rarely had a chance to have those long and sociable conversations of the olden times. But still she made every allowance, and consoled herself with the reflection that it would not last long; that as busi- ness prospered with her son and his commercial firm, that he would-have more time to devote te .her. How little do mothers or any kind of other women know-about the cravingss of a bnan o* business! It increases with age, and the More business a merchant does, the more he is anx- ious to do. His ambition to do inlarge and successful business is more eager than that of the'states- man, or, the man-with a profession, to rise to the head of it. But with the merchant such an am- bition is destructive to all domestic comfort, and in almost every case, ruinous to his own financial prospects ; for success makes him more venturesome, and, like the successful gambler, he increases and doubled his steaks, until some sudden and unlocked for stroke of bad fortune destroys all his plans, and renders him at one blow a bankrupt and a beggar. Very few merchants at-e content to do a slow, sure and certain business. Nearly all are anxious to increase it and make as much money as they can, and even when they have far exceeded their opening desires, they find they have but commenced to do the business or made the fortune they desired to make. It was a pros- perous time when Clarence and the young Lee commenced their business, and with the influence of the Elder Lee, and with his advice to guide them, the first few months of their existence was extremely prosperous, and Clarence had made more money in the first six months that he was in business than he had ever dreapied he should be worth His ambition began to be excited, and he longed to extend his business connexions and to create as much of a sensation on 'change as some of his older mercantile friends created. He consulted his own views and those of his partner, who coincided with, him in everything, much more than he did in those of the elder Mr. Lee.- The latter r egarded Clarence almost as dearly as he did his own son, and frequently cautioned to him the danger of going ahead too fast; but Clarence possessed great logical powers, and after one of those cautionary fits of old Mr. Lee, he would explain to him so clearly the certainty of success in any new enterprise in which he was desirous the firm should embark, that the old gentleman would be forced to give hiS consent, and-the funds to carry out the mercantile idea; Thus were matters situal ed when Clarence first dreamed of accepting a nomination for the State Legislature, but when he spoke to old Mr. Lee about it, that shrewd old merchant was so horrified at it, that Clarence determined to say no more .until he was actually nominated, and then to tell his old friend he couldn't help it. 81 page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 CLARENCE BOLTON. CHAPTER XVII. COXrENTS-Ciarence elected to the Legislature--his career therein highly creditable-his partner travels-Mr. Lee and famly-his mother,. &e. UANTITY is one essential ingredient to make a good sized work, but quality is still more es- - sential to make a readable one-and the more particularly in a tale like this, which..is read . -__- chapter by chapter every week by thousands. ] Knowing this fact, it has been our aim as we have -~~__ progressed to throw into it portions that would ~n_ interest all and each individual reader, no matter to what class of society he or she might belong. We have brought our young friend Clarence to -- -- an interesting part in his history He is estab- lished as a merchant, and although this class generally speaking have very little ambition to be anything else but merchants, there are fre- quently found exceptions among theim, and some - shine as men of literature, and others rise to political eminence.' But the latter is rarely the case. It is a singular fact that since the days of the Revolution, there are few merchants who have ever distinguished themselves as legislators or statesmen. It would actually strike any one that our merchants would be the representatives to the Legislature and to Congress from our com- mercial seaboard cities ; yet it is rarely the case, and more particularly in the great commercial mart of this continent, and the reason here is obvious. The merchants, as a body, attend to their business and money making, and do not understand the first rudiments of political advancement Now and then it becomes the interest of a few politicians, who' do understand the ropes, to have a merchant nominated to Congress, and then the city of New York has a King or Grinnell in the Hall at Washington. There is not at this moment in the city of New York as much of any political party who has sufficient personal influence to procure a nomination to Congress from either party, or who would know how to go to work to get it, unless by depending upon a few political suckers, who would spend his money to secure a nomination, and if the party in the district where he lived was strong enough he would go in. A merchant knows very little about the complicg ted machinery of primary meetings, the source of all political power in this State, and therefore is at the mercy-of those who do, and they can make or unmake him -at their pleasure. In the days of which we write, the nominations of the democratic party were made at that great building known as Tammany Hall. It was not then managed as it is now. Committees met in that old building, and nominated the members of Congress from the whole city, and the members of the Legislature in a batch. Now each district elect a committee for each ward at a primary meeting, and they nominate the member to represent that Congressional, Legislative, or Senato- rial district. A young lawyer, who has determined to shine in the political sky, if he consults his eventual success, will commence his political career at the bottom of the ladder. He becomes in his own ward a member of the young men's vigilance committee, when he becomes somewhat extensively acquainted with those men, he is put forward as a member of the ward committee,; he then has a chance to work himself into most of the dominating committees, in favor of those who tire ahead of him, and finally goes down to Tammany as a member of the Young Men's General Committee, and after serving ihiis apprenticeship-for some time, he, as a matter of course, has become pretty extensively acquainted with all the active politicians ofhis own party in the town, and has ac- quired a sufliient capital to do a little trading on his own hook, and stand a chance of getting his name before the people for a vote for any office of emolumen t or honor that he may select-. Such was theposition of oui' friend Clarence. He had made himself useful to his political friends in all these capacities, and besides the leading active politician of his native ward, 'the old KEle- venth, knew him well personally, and had known the elder Bolton, and regarded his son with es- pecial 'favor, No sooner did it became tinown that Clarence would accept a nomination for the CLARENCE BOLTON. 88 Assembly, than an old rat of a wire puller came to him, and with the frankness of one of his class, thus addressed Wim "So Clarence you want to go to Albany this winter ?" "Well, I was thinking of it. Do y ou thit k there would be a chance of my being elected ?" 4 Elected ? that has got nothing to do with it. To get nominated youmean ?" "Well, nominated then." "Yes, there is a good chance. We have got no candidate from this ward, and it is a very easy thing to get a delegation that will go for you heart and soul; and now I -think of it, you would make a first rate member. I'll go on the nominating committee from this ward myself, and as, certain that all the rest of it will go their death for you." "But that will be only fiVe, and there are fifty odd members of the nominating committee from other wards." '' Oh,Aon't bother your head about that. There are several other members besides yourself to be nominated, and a great many other affairs, so that with your own delegation true and willing to stand fire, we can do a little log rolling, and you are nominated sure. By the way, be on hand at the next ward primary meeting, act'as secretary, and don't blab-don't talk-yeu don't want anything -wouldn't take it. That's the way to talk until you are nominated. A few of us understand all about that." Clarence promised to follow the advice ofhis old friend, and a few days after the nominating committees from thq old Eleventh were all elected; among them was the old friend Clarenge had talked with, and four others that he knew were friendly. He took the matter quietly after this, until the night of themeeting of the committee at Tammany Hall. At the first meeting at the committee room in the old wig-wam, only the names of the candidates were proposed, and what was his mortification at finding his name had not even been mentioned by any of his friends who were on the committe from the Eleventh! Soon after he met Mr. G., his friend who was on the committee, and told it to him. " Bah !" ,was the reply, " that don't make any difference : We did it purposely. You ill be one of the first four names nominated ; it is all arranged. Don't say any more about it." A few mornings after, when Clarence took up the morning paper, his name was stlte third on the list of candidates, nominated at Tammany Hall for the Assembly. Before twelve o'clock of the same day that this announcement appeared, Mr. Lee, the father of his partner, called at the cont ing-room, and in s. very grave and serious manner requested topiee Clarence alone. The latter page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] Ii II 84 took the old gentleman to the back part of the store, when the following conversation occurred: "Well, Clarence, I see that you have been nominated at old Tammany Hall as one of the can- didates for the Legislature. Of course it has been done without your consent, and you -will de- cline the nomination." "Really, Mr. Lee, I don't well see how I can do that, now that I am before the people for elec- tion." "True; but it hits not bepn done with your consent, and you can easily tell them so, and that you will not, under any circumstances, be a candidate."h There was a smile on the face of Clarence at the idea suggested by his venerable friend, of his being a candidate without his consent, as if such things were done at Tammany Hall as nomina- ting a man for any office whatever without his consent. He did not correct the etror, but merely observed: "I fear, sir, I must let the matter rest as it is. What objection can you possibly urge against * my becoming a member of the Legislature, if I am elected ?" "1What objection? Why, you surprise me, Clarence! What objection to a young merchant's neglecting his legitimate business, to embark in the sea of politics ? Why, your credit and stand- ing as a merchant would be ruined forever." "1I do not see any reason why such should be the case. The position is an honorable one, and I can easily spare a few weeks from my business without injuring it. Besides, sir, I want to do something in the Legislature. I have a special object in going there. I wish to see a law abol- Ished, and to aid in procuring its erasure from the statute books." "And pray what law is that which you feel so interested in ?" " The law which provides for the imprisonment of debtors, and which places 'a poor man who may owe a few dollars, in the power of the man to whom he may chance to owe the sum. That law I want to see repealed, and it would give me great satisfaction to give my personal aid and vote to have it repealed." "Worse'and worse, Clarence. It is a good law. What motive can you haye to get it repealed? Do you expect to be a poor man ? Why, it is a very just law, and a very useful one. How would I ever be able to collect money due me, but for that law ?" "1We will not discuss that matter now, sir. If you will convince me that any harm can arise to my firm in any way whatever from my accepting a seat in the Legislature, I will cause my name to be withdrawn." "Why, have I told you what harm'will arise; your credit will be ruined. It is a bad sign for a merchant to be a politician." "It may be so; but I think it would be better for the country at large if the merchants would devote more of their time to politics than they do. Every merchant should know his own busi- ness at least, and if he can leave it for a season, he ought to do so, and give some of his commer- cial sagacity and experience to his country. My mind is madeup, and I don't think I will with- draw my name." "1Clarence, I hope you will think better of it. You are very young. Wait a few years, and then if you see fit, why embark in politics; but don't do it now. You will regret it." "I think not, sir. Let me have my way this once. It can do no great harm, and if I find harm does arise from it, 1 have only a few weeks to be absent, and then I will be more devoted to busi- ness than ever before., . Mr. Lee partly assented, although not pleased, and left Clarence, hoping that his own good, sense and a little reflection would cause him to leave, the politics alone.. Colonel Vanderhoost, who knew the motives that actuated his young friend, did not oppose or second his design. He quietly observed thAt *ater would find its own level, and so would Clarence. The three days of election arrived, and when they were over Clarence and his party had carried all before them. He was elected by a handsome majority, The interval between the election and the first of January following, when hewould take his seat, was devoted to his business, and his partner, ypung Lee He made him aoquainted with all his business plans, and felt that he could safely entruct the operations of the house to his charge; but he little dreamed at the moment what cost it would be. Clarence had supposed that his mother would of course go with him to Albany, and remain there during the session. This she refused to do, much to his disappointment ; but she could not be persuaded to alter her siind. " I dlo note like to change, Clarence," said she. " You may desert the old c'atasge, but I will ncs& I CLARENCE BOLTON. 85 There I have dwelt for many years, of happiness as well as of sorrow, and there I intend to remain until I die." Her determination could not be altered, although Colonel Vanderhoost himself tried to change her mind. We will not go into the. details of the proceedings of the Legislature at Albany during that session., The subject in which Clarence felt so deep ansinterest had been agitated in the'previous Legislatures, and was discussed shcrtly after Clarence took his seat. He took the subject up at once, and in private and in public on every ,occasion, used his voice and influence to procure the passage of a b'll abolishing the' odious law. It succeeded, and before he returned to his native city the hill was passed, and there was no longer imprisonment for debt in his native State. . Du- ring ,he discussion, when asked (as he frequently was by members) why he felt so deeply, inter- ested in its fate, he made no direct reply, but simply narrated some of the events in his early career, and told the story of the incarcer nation of his father in the old jail in the city. That was enough. It made more converts to his cause than mere logical arguments could have done. Af- ter-the adjournment of the Legislature in the spring, he returned to New.York afnd devoted his whole energies to mercantile business. He found that his inexperienced partner had entered into a great many very large and extended-operations, and he for the first time began to be alarmed and to regret that he should have left th3 counting room, far a week even to enterZ the political field, and -he asked and obtained an interview with the elder Lee, and explained to him fully the extent of the mercantile combinations which the son had entered into while he himself had been legislating at Albany. The old merchant had been gratieid at the position which dlarence had achieved in the Legislature, and frahkly told him so; but added: "Now, Clarence, I am glad to perceive that you think my son has been somewhat imprudent. It only shows you how necessary it is for a man, a merchantpartieularly, . to devote his whole time aud attention wholly to his occupation. You are more to blame than my son. Had you been here he would not have increased the business as he has done, and very imprudently. How- ever, if you will only quit politics, all will go well. It was a great era in the life of young men like you and my son when you commenced business. You had got through your tedious clerk- ship-you more particularly had become a merchant, with a fair chance of succeeding as one. You, like a great many others, did not think that the pleasant position you found yourself in was and is fraught with danger and peril to your future prospects; for I assure you, Clarence, mer- cantile firms that have commenced business in New York for forty years that I can remember back, not one out of every ten have exis ted ten years, not one in thirty have lasted twenty years, not one in fifty have lasted thirty years, and not one in all have lasted forty years. The firms so started have failed, suspended. changed, or ceased to exist. Those that are started under the most auspicious circumstances, with a heavy capital and strong resources, have often ended nhost disastrously; while many that started with' nothing, have succeeded, made a fortune- and retired contented. I am one. No merchant who has continued in business has kept a fortune, and died leaving one. Now, I will go to your counting-room, arrange your affairs for you, assist you with money to conduct to a successful termination such operations as my son has put afloat which re- quires the aid of capital, and do you promise me to advise with me for the future and above all to leave politics. By the way, my son has suggested to me that by going abroad he could influ-, ence a large amount of commission business to the concern, and as Iregard that as a very safe business, I see no objections to his plan, and if you have none, I will arrange so that he can go out on the best footing," Clar en6e gladly availed himself of the kind offer of as sistance and advice from the old merchant, and everything was arranged pleasantly.. The son went abroad as had been proposed, and Clar- ence became more'intimate with the family of Mr. Lee than ever he had been before; for that family consisted of Mr. Lee, his wife, son, and a daughter who was in her fifteenth year, a very lovely giil, just verging into womanhood. Under the superintendence of Mr. Lee, the business of the firm became very prosperous and very successful, and the old gentleman was as regular in his attendance at the counting-room as if he had never left business, and so matters continued S for a year after Clarence returned from Albany. The health of his mothers no better,' and she was now confined solely to her own .residence; and the more helpless she became, the nmore constant and devoted was his attendance upon her, and when h~e was necessarily absent from her room, his presence was supplied by that of the gentle Mary Lee, who hardly let a day pass that she was niot at thie house of Mrs. Boltozz. CLARENCE BOLTON. It f / 84 page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] CLARENCE BOLTON. CLARENCE BOLTON. 86 .1HVHAPTRE XVIII. CONTENTS-Merchants, what constitutes one,-transactions of the frrm of Lee & Bolton, &0. JCOLLECTIONS of our own mercantile career will hover about us as we take up the pen to continue our story, and we will devote one chap- ter to merchants. What is a merchant? There are thousands so 'designated in our great cities, and the term is an indefinite one. In the country they call a merchant an individual who keeps a "store," buys and selI merchandise of all kinds, include. ing needles, crockery, calico, earthen pots,thread, sugar, jews-harps, and penknifes; and a New York merchant, in the eyes of rural people, is the men who buys and sells goods, no'matter whether it is a pound of tea and cotton-wick in a corner grocery in the Eleventh Ward, or the man in South street who owns a line of packets or imports a cargo of teas a month. A merchant, according to our ideas, is that man who operates on his owg account; who sends his ships to India or other ports, and im ports cargoes; who ships our great staples oz cotton, tobacco, &c., abroad; who imports foreign merchandise or sella it in large quantities, either on his or other people's account-in fact, who goes into operations that require experience, judicious management, foresight, or calculation. The firm of Lee & Bolton was nominally a "commission house ;" that is, they received consignments of merchandise which they sold on com- mission for a stated per contage foi their trouble. It was the wish of Mr. 'Lee that his son should confine the operations of the firm to this legitimate and (with ordinary prudence) a safe business. As the commission merchant who sells goods runs very little risk unless he charges a guarantee commission of two and one-half per cent. where he sells on time, and if he does this, even if he does lose a few dollars now and then, yet-at the end of the year he generally finds that he has received more on guarantee commissions charged to his correspondents than he has lost by bad failures; consequently he makes a profit, unless there should be some great mercantile convulsion, or unless he has.been very incautious in selling the merchandise consigned to him to people in bad credit. When Lee & Bolton commenced business it was their intention to do this sort of business, and to give our readers some idea how an extensive commercial firm commence their operations, or rather to show the beginning, we will go back to the time when the partnership was formed. Oh the first of January, 18-, the day and month when they started, they had abundance of capital and credit, and a list of correspondents in different ports of the world'and parts of the United States, and to many of these Mr. Lee, senior, wrote, soliciting their influence for his son To all of these correspondents the following circular, printed on a half sheet of letter paper, was forwarded by the sailing packets and transient vessels of those days: "NEW YORK, Jan'y 1, 1-, SiR-We have the pleasure of informing you that we have this day established ourselves in this city for the purpose of transacting a General Commiosion Business, and in making a tender of our services in this market, would crave reference to the following persons. We are, very respectfully, your obedient servants, LEE & &BOLToN. "Rrrn Tmcra-messrsO. Mason. Snookse & C,., New York; John Cotton & Co., New York; Peter Sugar. New York; Jesse Thornlike$ Jr., Boston; Biddle, Bank & CO., Philadelp hia; 1'oacao, Sterns & Co Baltimore; Huger, nice & Co., Charles- tn. S. C: Styw~ir Huian & Co, New Orleans; J Pe&boey ..Nephew. Mobile; Cheroots & Co., Calcutta: Bustamajee FUQJ.fAlESo, n P~hyL Junk & (Io., Canton,,, Hemp, Sugar &(C.., Msllat; Nutoneks, Mase 87 (1o., Batayis; Wealth & CO.., Peas; Waldle, Gree.& Co., Havre; Mnok, Freres & Fie, Marseilles; Petty, Violet & Co.. Bordeaux, Pounds, shillings Pence, London; Guinea & Co., Liverpool; W. S. Campbell & Co., Rotterdam, Boompjes & Co., Ant/erpj. There were references enough to have done busineEs sufficient to employ a capital for a few mil- lions, but the parties to whom these circulars solicited business was sent, did not avail themselves of the kind offer at once, and, in order to keep capital employed, young Lee built a ship, and in sixty days from the time the keel was laid, she was ready to be launched. Young Lee had.no par ticular trade to place her in, but he knew very well that a new ship could always get a freight somewhere when the ship was once built. He had some trouble to get his father's approval of the operation, but at last he succeeded by the exercise of some considerable ingenuity. He named her after his fatherand the old gentleman did not see any good reason why a ship should not be named after him, as well as after meaner men, and consented, and aided the son to carry out the idea, and he even sent an invitation to Clarence to come and see her launched. Clarence was sur- prised at his partner's boldness; but as his individual capital was not involved, he left the mat- ter entirely to the discretion of his partner and the elder Lee. A freight was found for the ship, and it was on'the occasion of her departure from this port on her first voyage to a foreign port, that Clarence came down from Albany, and with his Partner and their friends went down to Sandy Hook, and then returned to town in a steamboat. That day was a proud one for the two young merchants. They felt themselves to be ship-owners, and of'some account on 'change, and Clarence returned to Albany, more infected with the love of merchandise-than with politics. i There were several other extended operations, into which young Lee had rushed the new firm, besides the shipping business. He had soon, after the firm commenced, bought up all the eats that could be found in the market, with the idea that the North River would freeze over, and that oats would go up, and his father said he was mad, when the son told him what he had done. But young merchants are sometimes as shrewd as old ones, when they get a crotchet in their heads, and it proved so in this case, for the river did close; -oats advanced fifteen cents a bushel, and the new firm made a handsome sum of money, and that induced young Lee to embarlk in other operations without consulting his father, who had showed he didn't understand "oat." Not long after that speculation, some philanthropic broker suggested to the active partner that pepper was getting scarce in this market, and would probably advance in price tee immediately went into pepper, and invested $10,000 in that article, and it did rise, and before a month he sold out at an advance ot two cents per pound, leaving a profit of $3,500.- This was doing a pretty smart business for so. short a time, and a great many older firms gave the young house credit for extraordinary sagacity. But these operations were not all There were'others of a larg er amount that young Lee had en- tered into, which were not so profitable'; in fact, they were not closed up when Clarence returned. from Albany, and eten when they were-after the elder Mr. Lee began ta take an active part in the business-after his son had gone to Europe, they turned out to be very losing operations, ind' the firm sunk about as much as they had previously made. When Clarence had entirely regained the confidence of old Mr. Lee, the latter became less fre. quent in visiting the counting room of the-firm, and Clarence was obliged to act more on his o n air- page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] V responsibility, and h' became as anxious to do a larger business, as his partner had been nearly a year previous. and even Colonel Vanderhoost began to think of doing business, and turning his acquaintances into a useful channel The store of Lee and Bolton was a large one, and Clarence made an office for'the Colonel, and made an agreement with him to do a wine business. Clarence Was to import wines of all kinds, and the Colonel was to dispose of them to his fastidious acquaint- ai ces about town.- No sooner was Mr. Lee, who was in France, informed of this than he began .o make arrangements to carry it into effect, and the first operation was to make a contract with a house in Rheims to send to the New.York market a thousand baskets of champagne per month, but luckily only one thousand were shipped, and on this shipment alone the firm lost nearly three dollars-a basket, and the elder Lee then interfered, and no more was shipped. Among the enterprises in which Clarence engaged, was one which from its singularity we will speak of more at length, as it involved consequences most disastrous to his firm. By prudence they had succeeded during the first two years that the firm had been in existence, and by the efforts of the elder Lee at home, and of the younger one abroad, in getting up a good and reliable com- mission business. We have said before, that the object of young Lee's mission to Europe was to procure business. Previous to his departure, letters of instruction, letters of credit, and letters of introduction, were furnished him in abundance. The main object of hiq visit was to procure business, such as agen- cies for foreign houses, consignments of vessels and merohandize, and when it was necessary, he had power to use his letters of credit to make advances on any such consignments where advances were required by parties disposed to ship merchandize to the firms in New York. He was suc- cessful, and large consignments were made, and funds used on the London and Paris credits to make advonces. Notwithstanding Mr Lee had regained confidence after daily witnessing Clarence's manage- ment, he frequently offered advice, but when he found that it began to jar upon the young mer- chant's feelings,Jie ceased to do so, unless it was solicited, particularly by the latter, which rarely happened. When he saw the firm connecting themselves with Colonel Vanderhoost, he did not like it, and remonstrated, giving as a reason, that it was scattering the capital of the firm upon a com- plicated business. Still the kindest feelings existed, and Clarence daily visited the old merchant's family, and saw Mary once or twice every day. The ship, named after Mr. Lee, went her voyage to Europe, and returned to New York with a very small freight, and oh making up her accounts, Clarence found that she had invested a large amount of capital, which would be more profitably used in other purposes, and he found that he, was very much cramped. He had to remit money constantly for the drafts drawn by young Lee in Europe, to make advances, or run the risk of injuring their credit and standing with the Lon- don or Paris firms. Young Lee's expenses personally'had been very large, and Clarence wrote him constantly, urging him to make the most strenuous exertions, and to send the firm as much European business as could by any possibility be obtained. It was time now for a new voyage to be madecup for the ship, but Clarence had half a mind to sell her for what she would bring, rather than have her go again to sea with so much cash capital as she cost locked up. le was not even disposed to tell the exact state of his affairs to the elder Mr. Lee; that gentleman had his own, financial affairs to attend to, and from being well conversant with the general operations of the young firm, while he superintended them afterthe departure of his son for Europe, and the return of Clarence from Albany, he had no doubt but everything was going on prosperously and welt. He had signed Custom House bonds and endorsed notes for the firm without asking any questions when he did so. He knew that they were getting considerable West 1Idia business, consignments of sugars, &c., and that it was us1l for importing merchants to have an endorser on such paper as they signed for Custom House duties The extended-business of the firm and the separated and out up state of their bona ide capital required that they should have more, and Clarence regretted that he had ever invested a dollar in the business of ship owning. It was so much money looked up, and he consulted the elder Lee on one occasion, and told him that he thought of selling the ship while she was in port, and before she commenced another voyage. " What ? sell the ' Lee' ?" he exclaimed. " Why, my death Clarence, what are you thinking of? A new firm sell the first ship they. ever owned, and when she has only made one voyage ! Oh, no; that will never do at all. It would ruin your credit, and she would not sell for anything like what she cost. Oh, no ; that must not be. How much money do you want, Clarence, to carry jon through all your difficulties ?" "Well, I suppose we shall not have need of more than twenty thousand dollars. We can afford to lay out of the balance. She has cost us over that." "What is the amount of the bonds I have signed for you at the Custom House ?" "Oh, that is all right. I do not know the exact amount, but we shall take them all up when they become due." "I should hope so. But what is the amount of these bonds, as near as you can recollect ?" "I should think it was over nine thousand dollars." "1Well, Clarence, you may make out a bill of sale to me of the ship Lee, and let the register be taken out in my name. Insure her for twenty-four thousand dollars, aid with this understand- ing: You are to conduct all the operations of the ship precisely as if she were your own and still under yeur control I will sign all letters and orders in regard to her, and you may draw them as you please. I shall charge you seven per cent. interest, and will give you a letter of what I shall advance you with the interest on it, as paid by you or by the vessel's earniings, which must come into my hands, I will give you a bill of sale back again. But if you fail te do this, then I will sell her as if she was my own property" "I am agreed," replied Clarence, "and the amount you propose will answer every require- ment." "1Now, Clarence, listen to me still further. This and other operations have very much stag- gered my confidence in you as merchants. I am a careful, prudent man. I would not advance you a dollar on the ship, save for two reasons. One is, you have named her after me; and I don't want my name under the circumstances put up for sale. It has pleased my daughter. She feels very grateful that you and her brother named a shipafter me, and it would mortify her very much to see a favored object of interest to her put out of your hands ; and having become fully aware of the state of the case, I am willing to do what I propose. Therefore, say nothing to her in regard to this transaction. Let her suppose that the ship and your ether mercantile matters are going on as swimmingly as possible; but at the same time,'I wish you to understand me dis- inotly when Isay henceforth, business is business between us; and whenever I sign any note, or bond, or obligation, &c., and aid with cash or any manner whatever, I shall require the same collateral security from your firm as I would if my son was not one of your firm. Now pursue your own course. I will advise you whenever you solicit advice from me; but as for cash assist- ance, I shall not give it I have given my son a capital, and if it should belost, it is a matter between you and him. Now, do we distinctly understand each other ?" "4I understand you perfectly, dear sir, and will try dnd curtail our business, and not lo8k up our capital in the manner we have done We have not really made a loss since we commenced ; for we have made, as you are aware, a great deal of money by some operations, although we have lost money by others." "Yes, Clarence, I know you have made money by some of your operations; but still these same operations may prove of injury to you by leading you astray into an uncertain and very hazardous business, and-you may engage in similar operations which may turn out very differently. I hope not; but I again reiterate my advice to you to obtain a certain, reliable commission, business. If you make money, then invest it in any operation you please. Your building the ship may all have been very well planned and executed; still that is not the thing. You have looked up capi- tal that you now really require in other business which you have undertaken, and now I will bid you good night, but will add before we part, that .while I disapprove of your business transac- tions, ,1 am satisfied that a little prudence will remedy the evil. Call on me to-morrow for the money I have promised'you." Wheq Mr. Lee had gone, Clarence reflected very deeply upon the kind advice he had received. "le is right, and I am wrong. What wild spirit suggested my partner or myself the idea of building a ship? I already begin to feelthe effects of it, and to be very much cramped. However the promised loan will put me all snug, and I will be more careful in future." CLAENCEOLTON.LARENCE BOLTON. , 89 88 CLARENCE DOLTON. page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] OLARENOE BOLTON. CHAPTER XIX, CONTENTS-The Arm of Lee & Bolton teoomes prospetous-Mary Lee-death of Mrs.. Bolton, &0. T will naturally-occur to the reader how ne- cessary it is to have experience in' the counting rooms, and its dependencies, and how much may _ __be lost even unde propitious beginnings, if not assisted by the advice of those who havelong trav- eled through the mazy intricacies of mercantile affairs. The impetuosity of youth leads them too oftento rush heedlessly on a course, which, if not averted, only ends in disappointment and re- gret. Thus was it with Clarence and the younger Lee, while old Mr. Lee watched after their inter- ests, and, where it could be done, gave from time to time such advice as, if profited by, would heal up the mismanagement of the young mer- chants. Clarence, now ripening into years, saw the necessity of being better informed in his profes- 61 sional pursuits, and that the advice proffered by the elder Lee, instead of being, as formerly, a source of uneasiness, now proved like oil poured upon the troubled waters; and with that self de- nial of his own opinion, gave more heed to Mr. Lee's advice than formerly. The next interview was, indeed, an altered one.; and as Mr. Lee handed over the necessary funds to make all straight, Olarpnce thanked him not even so much for the pecuniary assistance, as for the treasured informa- -mation vhich accompanied the one thing needful. Clarence now saw that, as far as he was individually concerned, he had profited by experience, and resolved' at once to direct his energies in the only true course to obtain success. He immedi- ately wrote to his partner in Europe on the subject, giving him such a detail as astonished the ,younger Lee, entreating him not to be so wild in speculation, and offering advice to his partner, showing clearly that a change had "come o'er the spirit of his dream," and that he was now on the rteal road to wealth and fame. Our Hero was not without' reflecting on the time and opportunities lost, which could not be re- called, in his eagerness to become a public character; and now began to see, that althoughhe had achieved some celebrity in the legislature, still it was perfectly unstable, and that the multi- tad4 who cheered him on one day to the pinnacle of fame, were the next liable to turn round, and defame the'persen they so hitherto applauded; proving the absurdity, in one sense, however, 6f the " vog populi vox Dei." Accordingly, he now devoted his entire attention to lAs private af- fairs, and with some favorable remarks from his .partner in Europe, held out to himself some flattering assurances of his prosperity "in futuro." We must now leave him in his altered course for a short time, while we relieve our readers by giving them some information on Mr. Lee, seniorjand his household. He also had written a letter to his son, giving him the best possible advice; while Mary Lee was continuing to evolve froin the chrysalis, and become a belleof the first magnitude. Mr. Lee had spared no expense upon the education of his daughter, and after the real education in housekeeping, so characteris- tic of the American ladies, had been effected, had no objection that his daughter should acquire those refinements in education, which would enable her to appear in the best society without dis- advantage. She had now become a very tolerable musician, had learned those languages which are absolutely necessary for New York, where members of so nany different nations are min- gled in society; and altogether had made such improvements in every respect mentally, that her father, as well as her friends from without, had felt the influence she exercised over her com- peers in society, and 'would have gained notoriety, but for those modest ideas she had of her own qualifications and deserts. Mr. Lee w atched with anxiety every opening leaf in his daughter's 'progress, with a delight only understood by a fond and affectionate parent ; while thoughts would often occur to him. how lie could make sure that all things would uznite to make that lovely child escape the ills mortality is subject to; and these reflections he could'not entertain without a fervent hope in the future. It is not to be supposed that the amiable, lovely, and accomplished daughter of Mr. Lee would long appear in public, without'making impressions on the other sex, who had the goid fortune to be cast in her society, and every day brought new suitors to-her shrine ; nor is0it to be under- stood that even Clarence himself was a stoic on the occasion; while the circumstance of his being thrown so much into the society of the fascinating Mary Lee, only tended to enhance her value in his eyes. At the period we now write, New York was in the very height of the most fashionable season, and of course Mr. Lee's family was much sought after, from circumstances already detailed It was on one of those occasions when Mr. Lee and his household, accompanied by Clarence and Co- lonel Vanderhoof, had accepted an invitation to the dinner table of a friend They had all left home in spirits and delight; Mr. Lee happy in the idea that his son, then in foreign land, was likely to improve in his affairs: that he had occular demonstration that Clarence was on the real road to wealth and fame; and thet last, though not least, his darling child was every where so honored and approved of-the whole bringing satisfaction to his heart. It was with these feel- ings they left home to enjoy the evening. How true it is that such are the vicissitudes of life, that we know not momentarily what may be- fal us; that the sun that now shines forth In all its lustre, may in a moment be obscured, and black and thickening clouds take the place of smiling sunshine. Such was the case with the par- ties Dow under consideration. They had left home with buoyant spirits, little dreaming how soon their happiness was to be marred. Scarcely had the party described gained their friend's house, when a message reached them of the sudden illness of Mrs. Bolton. She had been, as bitherto stated, in a declining state of health, although not supposed to be by any means so ill as to threaten her life. Clarence was now summoned to the bedside of his devoted parent, and was but ill prepared for the blow that threatened to leave him an oiphan in the world. 01- If there be a time on earth when the wh6le faoulties of man are required to sustain him, itis oi 91 90 % ) CLARE NCE BOLTOX.' page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] CLARENCE BOLTON. an occasion like the present. A mother on the eve of eternity, calling for her darling chill, to impart her last words in feeble tones, directing him to the care of the God of, Heaven, ijto whose presence she is about to go, and ior the last time on earth whispering to him those words of ad. vice, for his. fuiur~e guidance, which she believes conducive to his prosperity here, and his welfare hereafter; while cn the other hand the child, become speechless at the.thoughts of losing his only earthly parent, stands aghast at the situation he is now placed in, and one thought, common to the lot of all fallen humanity, appears to him for the moment as an isolated case. Mrs. Bolton, contrary to the expectations of the faculty, now became extremely ill, and after an hour's consultation, the doctor's had decided that nothing could be done to save her life. She lay for a considerable time unconscious, except occasionally when she would rally, like the flick- ering light.' Clarence was now overcome He saw his only earthly parent about to leave him for ever; she who had loved and fostered him from his cradle : the thoughts of which overpowered, him, and he sank almost lifeless by her side. A few sighs,soon escaped from the lips of the dying lady, and her spirit departed to Him who gave it. "How true it is the good die first, whilst those whose hearts are dry as summer dust, burn to the socket.- Clarence was now gently removed from the rooa, ahd the doctor's, fearful of the consequences that might ensue to his health, had him removed to Mr. Lee's. It is hardly necessary to say what a mournfulhouse Mr. Lee's became. The eveiniing previously all was joy and hilarity-now it was the houseof mourning, The still hand of death had hovered over the devoted family, and is an unexpected moment left a blank in the circle, never again to befilled up. We wlll not harrow up the feelings of our readersby describing the paraphernalia of a funeral ceremony. Suffice it to say, that Mrs. Bolton had passed through that ordeal common to the children of earth, and had left devoted friends to mourn the loss of one, that some of the party, however, coull never forget during life. Three months had now elapsed, when the grief of the whole circle was in some measure as. suaged. Time has been provided by a wise Providence to alleviate, in some measure, at all events, our distresses; otherwise the world could not exist; and the necessities (if life oblige us to smo - ther grief, and prepare for the exigencies of our own destiny. Clarence now having in some measure recovered, commended in double earnest to prosecute his business It would almost seen that emerging from his trouble, he had received a new impetus, and followed it up with energy and perseverance. W hile matters remained as thus stated, letters were received from Europe from the younger Lee, who from the advice hitherto given freely by his partner, had undergone a complete change. The wild and uncertain management he had formerly pursued was given up, and like the Phonix from its ashes arose a course which by perseverance could not but be satisfactory to all persons' with whom the firm had transactions. Their credit now was fully established, in fact, those who at one time doubted were now more than eager to become acquaintod with the two young mer- chants, and everything had the appearance of ultimate prosperity. As the prosperity of Clarence advanced, the ties of friendship with t he Lees became more close. Indeed, Miss Lee, in the absence of her brother, looked upon Clarence in the light of a brother, which in Clarence's breast met an equal reciprocity, his evenings almost invariably being spent at Mr. Lee's, where'the accomplishment of Miss Lee made the little coterie both agreeable and instructing, serving as a delightful relief to Clarence, after the arduous duties of the day. kj CHAPTER XX. CONTENTS-The Gould and Lee family-their clroumstanees.-death of Fanny's husband-return of young Lee, &e. HILE Clarence daily improved in his circum- stances, the very contrary was the case with Mr. Gould, who hourly saw his wealth, a if. by mat /04M gic, disappearing, while his mean principles be- / ing so well known, no one felt uncomfortable at a recital of the fact. Another calamity bad also fallen on him. Dresser had plunged himself deeper in degradation, and in a fit of mania a potu deserted his truly unfortunate wife. The blow was overwhelming so as at first to threaten the life of Mr. Gould, who was from its effects unable for a considerable time to proceed in his business. His affairs, consequently, became more compli- cated, and ruin began to stare him in the face. It was evident, indeed, that Mr. Gould's days were about being numbered. Still he held on with all that tenacity whiah invariably accoinpa- nies the latter days of the abre loving commu- nity. The old Colonel might indeed be said to be a complete Patriarch, and naturally with his age came also no inconsiderable share of radotage, the evident simplicity in his manners renderiig constant attendance on him absolutely necessary. lMr. Gould had become, in one particular at last, an altered man. . His love for money, to be sure, seemed to increase as his wealth diminished, while the pridae, which naturally swelled within him, appeared now to give way.. In place of the overbearing manner and contumely originally attending all his observations on the struggling part of the community, he was w6nt to observe'occasionally that he'did not think them so hide- ous; in fact, the hauteur of former days began to diminish in the exact ratio of his decreasing wealth. Every day,.by some fortuitous circumstance, he became poorer, and it was evident that unless some wonderful change came o'er the spirit of his affairs, he would soon be reduced to pov- erty. Mr. Gould would now for days keep his room, to ruminate over the gold which he yet pos- sessed, but which was soon-to depart. He made calculation after calculation, on the score of re- ducing his expenses, still it was apparent to himself that all this did not seem to bring about a better state of things. It was on one of his moody days, when his absence from business had created some sensation, that old Colonel Vanderhoost called upon him, and was shown into his study. The old veteran at first thought the room empty on entering, and was some minutes before he became aware that Mr. Gould was actually present. In one corner of the room lay an old fashioned chest, apparently made as strong as-iron and wood could do so. It was open; old Gould was on his knees, his hands turning over carefully something at the bottom The Colonel advanced, but so intent was lould upon the object of his'search and admiration that he did not for a, considerable time notice the approach of his visitor, who calmly but intently viewed the wary miser, as he gloated over and worshipped the canker of men's souls. The Colonel's thoughts, even in this brief period, took a review of the life of the miserable old man, andof the certainty of his end being worse than any part of his life, At length ',r. Gould became conscious of his visitor, when they cordially greeted each other and became seated. The old miser now opened at'once in a paroxism of ill-temper at ,the course his eventful and miserable life was taking, almost arraigning the Providence of God for his misfortunes, while his attenuated visage only served to show how deeply his body had suffered from the effects of his mind. The Colonel, who waited patiently until Gould's excitement hadi in some measure subside d, no~w inquired into his affairs, but this only tended to make him more exasperated, and the Colonel found it necessary to change the subject, in order to lengthen his visit. It was perfectly evident at the same time to the visitor, that Gould's mind was by no means as stable as it formerly had been, and that his whole soul was absorbed in trying to increase his store, and that he had hid his tal- ent in a napkin in the earth, to give it to the austere Lord when he returned. 92 98 OLARENOR BOLTON. page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] 14 OLARENGE BOLTON. ,The furniture of the apartment also showed evident alienation of mind. The regularity in the arrangements visible hitherto had given way to a system which elucidated the definition of chance, and by the confusion in which all things were in, demonstrated that chance was a series of cir- eumstknces without order and regularity. The Colonel now saw ibat the time had gone by fox ever for gaining any asendency over the unfortunate victim of the dross of this world, andafter a short time spnut in reverie, rose to de- ,part. Gould now seemed to feel his unhappy situation, and appeared to be struggling against his fate; but, alas! the golden aker had gnawed too deeply into his soul, and he again gave- him- Oelf up, both body and soul, to the root of all evil, while the good old Colonel departed W,ben the young man addressed the Son of Man to settle a dispute about propertybetween him and his brother, he rejected the idea altogether, but wanted, at the same time, that he should go, sell all he had, give it to the poor, and follow him, but the young man went away very sorrowful, as he had much wealth, realizing the following beautiful description of all such persons, namely, "And Demas has forsake en Mne, having loved this present evil world." No sooner had the Colonel gone than old Gould again repaired to the phest, counting the spark- ling pieces from one side 'to the other, while every now and again, as a piece might slip through his fingers, he would make a spasmodic exertion to regain it, as if.he were over a precipice, and that the piece might fall down into tbe abyss. "4Can angels, In their heavenly flight. Look down on earzhwih pn e dtt At 1se'nestlkethese ? - .o' but the inborn.ende of hell Look on, and shout that 'All is wel e. 'Tis t e waneto oplease."'1 While matters stood thus with old, Gould and the Colonel, Fanny Gould was pining away in soli- tude. Her'-s was ia sad fate. From the day she' -was deserted by Dresser she could not hold up. hethead. Tobtsure, such-was his conduct that most persons would, under such circumstances, be rather glad than otherwise to be,rld of him; but then they had been man and wife, and it be- CLARENCE BOLTON. comes in the breast of a woman impossible 'to forget, without a sigh, the man she had given her- self to for better or for worse. Thus were her days spent in uncertainty, and it bore heavily on her Search was made in all likely places where there might have been a possibility of a discov- ery, but still no traces of the unfortunate man. Tnis circumstance naturally preyed also upon her father, and it was very evident that Mr. Goul's whole family prospects were fast wasting away. On the other hand, Clarence Bolton and the Lees became every day more and more successful, The younger Lee made several ship- ments which were altogether fortunate, and there was now no doubt of the young firm becoming finally successful. There was another whose prospects were. dinmed. Old Wolff was reduced to poverty, and momentarily appealed to Clarence for assistance. While young Miss Gould saw with sorrow her unfortunate sister wasting away day by day, and did all in her power to raise her from that lethafgy, which her sorrow had brought upon her. It was at the close of a summer eve, when the two sisters were brooding over their situation, it was, reported that a cloak and hat were found on a retired part of a canal, some fifty mileS from the city. This struck Fanny at once, who, after many misgivings, made a determination to spare no expense in enquiring into the matter. What if it could be the habiliaments belong- ing to her lost husband; and as it was necessary for her to prove it by occular demonstration, she left the city. Considerable difficulty was experienced in tracing the clothes to the possession of those who found them. An advertisement was at once put into the paper, which was answered, and 'a pro- mised interview given., It was with a trembling and fainting heart that Fanny, and the protector she had taken with her approached the appointed place. If she could recognise them as Dresser's, what but the deepest anguish would pierce her soul; and, on the other hand, were they belonging to some one else, still she would be under the uncertainty which had for so long a time preyed upon'her soul The door of a small cottage now opened, and in a few moments more Mr. Dresser's cloak and bat were presented to the view. A shriek from the devoted female now rent the house, and Fanny Gould was no longer a wife. The necessary drags were now procured by the neighbors, and after considerable time dragging the canal, the body of the ill-fated Dresser was recovered. It was evident that he hadin a fit of delirium tremens terminated his existence, and gone into the presence of an offended Maker un- prepared. The body was not removed, but was in a private way interred in a neighboring church yard; while no monument marks the spot where the guilty man was laid. The consternation among all parties, on the return of Fanny dnd her pro tectoi, can'be better understood than expressed. A gloom spread over the whole party, and which was only alleviated by the uncertainty which was set at rest as to the end of the unfortunate man. We shall not dwell longer on the painful subject than merely to say, that Fanny found somE relief in the consolations of 1%ligion, the only true source to apply to in calamity; and resign- ed herself, as far as possible, to the decrees of Him who gives, and who has a right to take away. The love that survives the tomb is one of the noblest attributes of the soul. If it has its woes, it has like wise its delights; and when the overwhelming'-burst of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of recollection, then the sudden anguish and convulsive agony over the ruins of all that we most loved, are softened away into meditations on all that it was in the day its oflove- liness. Who would root such asorrow from the heart, though it may sometimes throw a passing cloud over the bright hour ofgaiety,,or spread a deeper sadness over the hour ofglocm ; yet who would exchange it ?or the song of pleasure. Thus did philosophy apply itself to Clarence and Mr. Gould's~dughter. They had tasted of the bitter cup, and it required all the energy of their souls to bear up against the tide of -affiction 'which'at one time threatened to overwhelm them., The younger of Mr. Gould's daughters, though lovely in her life,:had griefsito-contenddilth'; but youth seemed to overcome all, attd she promised to be ase r of the first magnitude. While these circumstances were enacting in.New york, let ters were being c'nstantly receivedl from the younger Lee, who, having established his name, character, and business in Europe, dg- page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] 96 CLARENCE BOLTON. -termined to leave for America, at all events for a season, and his arrival was hourly expected. It was, perhaps, at this juncture a providential -circumstance, as it yould tend, in some mea- sure, to dispel the gloom which had held, empire over the families in New York. Preparations were accordingly made for the reception of the younger Lee, and the evident pleasure derived from the anticipation of his presence, raised the hopes, as well as the spirits, of the whole party. To describe the meeting of the parties, would be almost a-useless task, There are few in the world unacquainted with -the-pleasure of meeting a friend long absent, and therefore can enter into the feelings of all the parties we speak of, as if it were their own case. Young Lee arrived, however; and although there had been so many sorrowful letters written when abroad, still he could not but feel delighted at meeting his friends, more especially as his circumstances, as well as his partner's, had so iuch improved. Nothing could exceed the delight of the elder Lee on meeting his son. Indeed, 'what father who reads this simple narrative, but must fully enter into Mr. Lee's feeling. The young man who now stood before him had left him wild, inconsiderate, and only poorly conditioned in point of circumstances; while he now stood before his parent an altered person, indeed. Tall, and hand- some in figure, a young man of undoubted reputation; and 'though last, not least, wealthy to an esitreme. The female portion of the family were equally delighted, of course; and it seemed perfectly providential that his arrival was so opportune, assisting in a great measure to dispel the gloom that late casualties had cast on this devoted family. T No time was now lost by the Colonel to hasten to Mr. Lee's and assist in Welcoming his son. He accordingly visited the family, but -so numerous were the guests, and so besieged was the younger Lee by all the family, that-Colonel Yanderhoost did not stay long, satisfying himself with an appointment for'Clarence and young Lee to meet him the next day at Delmonico's. The day arrived when Clarence and young Lee set off at the appointed time to the Colonel's, from whence the tria juncta in uno proceeded to Delmonipo's. Dinner over, the Colonel now entered into a detail of all that'had occurred during young Lee's absence, and in return was treated by a description of his affairs while in Europe. The Colonel could not but be delighted, and although considerably older, yet this new feature in the drama of life seemed to resuscitate the old gentle- man, who could not repress a tear when he beheld the two young men before him, for whom he had at one time so many misgivings. - It was. wholly impossible in the midst of these stirring events for the unfortunate Fanny to be unmoved; indeed, since the loss of her husband she became quite a recluse. In vain did her sister recommend her to go'abroad into society, and try to dispel those thoughts which were preying on her soul. .Nothingi however, could rouse her; she still sought retirement, and in fact defied all entreaties from her friends on the subject-while hersister, now blooming into womanhood, was looked upon by all with admiration. In height she was rather about the middle stature, elegantly proportioned, rather inclined to the "en bon point " than to the sylph, though not so much so as to take away from the grace in a fascinating female figure. Her hair was light; her eyes clear, and azure blue; while a sunny smile ever and anon played ove* a countenance in which each feature appeared to vie with the other in producing a conformation that could not be scrutinized without producing admiration. - Her manners were indeed equally fascinatig -the "tout ensem- ble" producing no ordinary sensation in the minds of her corspeers of both sexes. Miss Lee was a charmer of another description; she,like the younger Miss Gould, was also a little above the standard height of the Grecian Medicis ; her raven tresses fell in luxuriant curls over a neck that might have put to the blush the summit of the snow-capped Chimboraz'o; her eyes, so indicative of the Andalusian ladies, were jet black, and full; while the long fringed eyelashes gave her face that dreamy influence so common to females of a Southern clime.. Her manners were also of the gentlest and tenderest kind, and to hurt a harmless insect purposely would make an inroad on her feelings that could not be easily forgotten. Thus were these two charming girls growing in beauty and elegance amidst the providential, -yet severe trials which others about them had been visited with, while we can with safety apply the jbflowinglanguage of the poet to them both- "Oh, voman, lovely womau! nature formed thee - To'temper man.-we had been brutes but for you," - a I I.I CLARENCE BOLTON. CHAPTIE R XXI. ONTEXTS-Depalnre of clarenee to Turope-his voyage, shipwreck, no.-the Lee and Sould family-letter from Clarence concerning bulltghits. UR readers will'recollect the position of parties - at the end of our last chapter, and while matters stood as related, letters arrived from Europe with information that a mercantile house in ~ - Cadiz, with whom the firm of Lee & Bolton had 0- done considerable business, had stopped payment; -, and the accounts being in a very complicated ~condition on the part of the foreign house, it be. became, after due deliberation, a matter of no. cessity that one or other of the partners should go to Europe. The younger Lee, having so lately arrived from there, threw this onerous duty, with -- evident propriety, on Clarence; accordingly all - - was got in readiness- for his departure, and a1 - -- though it was not without some secret misgivings and regret on the part of all that he went, there was one in the person of Miss Lee who could not - - ~ ~ - -look upon even the temporary absence of Clar- -__ence without feelings of the most aseute nature. The business, however, of the firm demanded it, and the ordeal should be passed. it was rather a dark and unfavorable day when Clarence (after bidding adieu to home, his lover, and his friends,) went on board a ship bound direct for the bay of Cadiz. The vessel dropped down with the tide, and was some time before she reached the lower anchorage in the bay, where the captain determined to wait for the next morning's ebb, to get olear of the land. To one who has never ]eft home, nor has ever been at sea, or unused in any way to the din -of a ship, its crew, - and the bustle of shipboard, it may be easily conceived what feelings came over the young merchant upon finding himself in so unique a situation. 'he necessity, however, of ex, ertion on his own part, in order to arrange a little preliminaries for his. own comfort during the voyage, took up his attention so much that the next morning the vessel was well clear of Sandy Hook before he had any suspicion he was at sea. To those who are unacquainted with -nautical terms, we shall try and explain his passage as well as circumstances will permit in order to griatify them with disasters, though not fatal, that was destined to befal our hero as well as the devoted ship. For the first day or two out the wind was tolerably favorable, blowing what the sailors:would call a topsail breeze. It was not destined, however, to last long; and on the ship reaching the edge of the Florida stream, the captain's voice could be heard "intop-gallpnt sails--reef topsails, ahoy ! "Aye, aye, sir," was the reply, and the whole rigging now became thickly spotted over with human beings, like a nest of frightened ants when their nests were tramped on by a bear. They had scarcely relieved the ship when the captain, whose eagle eye was now directed to wind. ward, was againheard through the rising gale-" Close reef topsails, ahoy !1" "hoist away the storm gib -" The laboring vessel was now close hauled and shaken in the breeze, while the eap. tain recommended Clarence to go below; indeed, it is the only refuge for those'unacquaintsd with the method-of walking the decks. The vessel now kept her course, laboring ofcourse considerably in the cross sea so usually met with in what sailors call the ." Stream." Clarence now found himself truly and for the first time an isolated being, and as far as theIp0.1- tion he was then in, might truly say that he possessed no friend, had no home, and wasCAplg~im on the angry and uncertain waters. Such is life, and it was with no unmneasuredatety that he watched from his berth every stir that was made on deck. Night coming on, and the weather relaxing nothing, the ship was made &ll snug, ad the cap- tam, who had for so many hours toiled hard above, now cheered up his only passenger by express. mng his opinon tat th next morning they would be likely& tebfrler otke le of the 8trean, Scrclyha te bell given out the hour of' mi }g igg: hnte ae he had hitherto kept pretty steady, now blew in uncertain puffs, and ith[redoggle& vl0ienc0 The captain, frgg re vious arrangement, was called, and with trumpet in-hand, seut forth the mandate.---AdhlMn page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] 98 CLARENCE BOLTON' deck-heave the ship to !" No sooner were the words spoken and the "hard down" repeated, than the devoted craft flew up into the wind; the storm gib was now hauled to windward, while the ship, after being eased of the fore and mizen topsail, lay to under the close reefed main top- #ail, storm gib and mizen spanker. The helm was lashed, and a guy rope run fore and aft amid- ships as security for the-men who traversed the unstable decks. Nothing can compare in sublimity to the scene on board a ship when matters are as just detail- od, as the writer can say from experience.- The sea appears one boiling cauldron, the devoted bark a shell, now lifted to the dark and angry clouds which appear to gather overhead for destruc- tion, and again lost between, the subtle mountains that threaten in their fall to hurl everything before them. The masts creak, while occasionally an unpropitious sea from the want of steadiness in the wind would sweep the decks, carrying off at one time perhaps a boat, and for certain every- thing not lashed to something that could only give way with universal destruction. All hands are abaft the binnacle, except when some casuality required an alteration in their positions. Thus did the night wear away, and it was not until half an hour after sunrise that the ship could be put on her course again. Towards that day, however, the weather moderated, and the joyous sounds once more reached all ears-" Loose the fore topsail!" "shake out a reef in the main!" and so on, until the ship again bounded safely on her course. Clarence now made hig appearance on deck, the captain sympathizing with him on the troubles which all landsmen must suffer under the circumstances of a first voyage. Nothing occurred for the next two weeks to mar the prospects of the voyage. Clarence's appe- tite recovered its wonted vigor, and coarse salt beef and a hard biscuit eat with more relish than any of the delicacies which the great markets of New York afforded. It was on a beautiful evening, after being at sea for nearly a month, that the captain gave or-S ders to swing anchors to the bows. This was the signal for the ship being near soundings. The bustle now on deck became more than ordinary, and every countenance gleamed with delight at. the thoughts of soon falling ia with the land; but how little did those think who were then con- gratulating themselves on escaping so well the storms already detailed, of the nature of the easu- ality about to befal them! The hilp uow lay about seventy siiles west and by south of Cape Trafalgar, while everything I CLARENCE BOLTON. 99 appeared propitious for the future The captain, whose eye almost constantly scanned the hori- son, perceived a small black cloud rise in the west, and on examining the barometer, discovered conclusive proofs that a tempest was at hand. The flattering and lagging sails " spoke," as the sailors say, against the masts, while the small cloud gradually extended, and finally overshadowed the whole sky. Every precaution was taken to rid the ship of her canvas; but before it could be accomplished, a white squall came down on her, and in less time than we take in narrating it, the ship was thrown on her beam ends. We shall not go into any detail of the cutting airay of the masts and other means resorted to, to right the vessel; but shall content ourselves with the fact, that in ten minutes from the accident the whole crew were afloat upon the ocean in two small boats, having succeeded in getting some provisions and water, a compass and some other necessaries, and were not a quarter of a mlle from the ill fated ship before they beheld her give a lurch and go to the bottom. As we are not writing a sea story, we shall not say more than that the two boats steered their course for Cape St. Mary, reached it without any casuality, and Clarence found himself the guest in the Hacienda of Don Cvosar de Bazan. We shall leave Clarence for the present under the roof of the hospitable Spaniard, while we take a review of the families in New York Fanny, whose melancholy did not, abate, began to snffer in health; so much, that it became necessary to call in medical Vpssistance. Some of the ablest of the faculty were at once resorted to, and by their unanimous vice their patient was recommended to go into the country. Accordingly under their advice, and accompanied by her sister and a proper retinue of female attendants, she proceeded to Saratoga, where it was hoped she might, with the assistance of the salubrity of the air, find variety to chase away in some measure the corroding influence of the mind. Mr. Lee's family continued the even tenor of their way, with the exception of Miss Lee, whose heart and thoughts had to "roam the ocean o'er," and find a solace-in the charmer Hope which' linge-red still behind. Young Lee carried on the business of the firm with success, while he paid an occasional visit, when opportunity offered, to Miss Gould at Saratoga. The Colonel moved about as usual, and all parties only wished the time to pass over quickly when they hoped to have a letter from Clarence. The Hacienda of the Spanish don and its rural situation, contrasted curiously in Clarences mind wivh the busy streets of the emporium of the Western World; however, the inmates did all in their power to restore the faculties of the stranger, who, after a week's rest, was promised a conveyance to Cadiz. Clarence now, for the first time in his life, found himself under the influence of the fair sex of another nation. Don Cesar had two beautiful daughters, and who that has seen the chiselled countenances of tl e Spanish fair, but must award them the greatest honors for the very highest state of beauty. Siill he never could lose the image of Miss Lee, and he could not but think how surprised all parties would be in New York when they received from himself an account.of his perigrinations. After a week spent under the influence of this delightful family, Clarence set off for Cadiz, which he reached in safety, immediately conferrin.g with the house his firm had so long transacted business with, and having rested a few days, sat down, and in a letter advised his frienderin New York of his safety after so many perils. The business he had gone .on turned out more favorably than he could have expected. The Spanish firm had wound up their accounts, and had fully satisfied all demands. There was nothing left now for Clarence, but previously to his return, to see all that was to be seen in a country he had little dreamed he was ever destined to see, and therefore made up his mind to remain until his curiosity wAs completely gratified. One week more and Clarence was to leave the country of love and romance, and there being nothing left of curiosity for him to see but one, he determined on going to its exhiy1tion.. We shall not describe his feelings, but allow him to speak for himself in the last letter he penned to New York, ere he embarked. It was a scene so novel to any one who never before witnessed it, and one which it appears had haunted him ever since he arrived. He had viewed it with such con- sternation, that be,could not withstand the temptation of giving soine account in the last letter he should write to his partner : " My DEAn L EE-I am happy to inform you, that the lagt act in thewnigpoftetn- action which I came here for, has been gone through, and all to my perfect satisfaction. Nothing page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] CLARENCE BOLTON. could exceed the honorable way in which it has been completed, and nothing now engages my attention but the prospect of being back in New York. The ship ir. which I shall embark will be ready to sail in about a week, so I am all prepared, and I have determined on sending this letter as the last, of course, from Cadiz; so that you and other friends may be on the look out for me in due course., " The last novelty of this curious country I witnessed yesterday; and as I have no better employment on my hands at the present moment, I will contrive to give you some faint iiea of it. "fHow little do people in the United States, who have not traveled, think what curious cus- toms prevail elsewhere; and what gave delight to thousands here yesterday, would cause there Auch abhorrence, that I am sure it would not be tolerated. I allude to an entertainment called BULL FIGHTS. . "Imagine a large amphitheatre, sufficient to hold some twelve thousand spectators, all dressed in the most picturesque costume imaginable. The governor of the province, and his ladie, suite, in the most prominent box; next the clergy, and others of the elite of the Spanish n. lity. A large door communicates with the amphitheatre, inside which is a stable, where. ta n mild bulls from Tarifa have previously been stalled; while men with spears from the loft above goad them to desperation. " The persons who are to mix in the bloody fray are divided into two assortments. First- the Piccadores. - These are mounted on horses; the latter blindfolded. Each Piccador has a lancO of wood, with a spike, about the length of a nail, at the end of it. Ten of these take their' places, one behind the other, around the circle of the arena; the first close to the door from which'the bull enters, the rest in succession. The Mattadores, who are on foot, and each pro- vided with a silk shawl, take up their stand in hiding places, made up of the stoutest material in the framework that encloses the amphitheatre. A Spanish regiment soon enters the arena, fbrms in line opposite the governor, and present arms; after this distributing themselves in the boxes, already detailed. " Every preparation being now ready, the gate opens, whea in rushes the bull A flaming red ribband is seen flying from his neck by an arrow, which has been inserted in his skin. The audience now rise, an'd give three tumultuous cheers; while the bull, in madness and astonish. tMt, BV eys the scene, and n another moment rushes on the nearest Piccador, who sends the spear into the back of his neck. The bull now thinks himself pursued from behind; turn round, hut finding no enemy, returns to the charge, in every attempt of which he is baffled, and in de- spair seeks other foes. The same scene goes through with all the Piccadores, -but, perhaps, for want of skill, with not the same success. The second Piccador meets a worse fate. The bull now gets his horns into the horse, and throws him and the rider almost into the air. The fall is awful, while the Mattadores run from their hiding places, cast their shawl$ into the bull's face, and rescue the rider. The conflict now goes on between the hongA and bull, in which the' latter proves victorious. The bull now goes in search of other foes, and being somewhat worn out the Mattadors, all come forward. 'fhe bull now chases them alternately over the ring, un- successful in eyery case, and finally from exhaustion stands, and paws the .ground in despair. Every device is now employed to raise the flagging energies of the unfortunate animal, but to little purpose. Fireworks, attached to arrows, are now flung at the bull indiscrinWritely, and you perceive him enveloped in flames; while the occasional shots that go off once more bring him again on the offensive Some now jump on his back ; others hold on by the tail, until the animal becomes completely broken down. To kill him now, a Mattador approaches with a long sword in one hand and a red shawl in the other; the latter he throws in his opponent's face. The bull, in his last desperate attempt, rushes onward, and the sword is buried to the hilt in his heart. "The scene for the moment is suspended, while a muleteer, with three gaily attired mules and -a drag chain, draw the carcass of the bull, and any other dead animal, from the arena, to prepare for a new victim., " I have thus been minutte, my dear Lee, and to describe the horror of my feelings, I shall not at tempt here. You will not fail to make all our friends acquainted with the p'eriod of my embark ation, saying everything possible for me, which I know you can do in your own way. Hoping that Imay have a~ more favorable voyage than heretofore, I am, my dear Lee, your's sincerely, " CLARNmcE BoLToO * CHAPTER XXII. CONTENTS-Gltanees. t urn and prosperity attends the flimo-death of ranny-Clarenee Bent to Congress-and the Snale.s he marriage of Clarence to Miss Leerand young Lee toeoeins Gould. XACTLY one month from the time Clarence wrote his last letter he landed in Now York, and the greetings of all parties may be more easily understood than described. The perils he had encountered were the theme of the first outbreak among all parties, and as to minor details there appeared to be no end. Miss Lee was not among the last to welcome one, whom every one well knew was dearer to her than herself; indeed, she did not attempt to disguise it any longer, and the short separation only tended to make her as well as Olarence, if possible, more attached. : z True love is warm awhile, Cannot groir cold; ",.*oenee.er bights the smile, E'er it growo li The two partners now exchanged business con- gratulations, and found themselves wealthy be- yond their possible anticipaions; while young Lee had no hesitation in informing Clarence that 'Fanny's sister had made such inroads on his heart, that he only viewed her in the light of a being destined to be more than a friend. Congratulating parties were. now interchanged among Clarence and his friends, and his tales of Spanish adventures listened to with the greatest pos- sible pleasure, while the old Colonel almost fancied himself young again; such was the joy that pervaded the breast of one who had watched over 'Clarence for sudh a length of time. There appeared to be only one thing to dim the entire face of their affairs: it was the health of that one whose vicissitudes had hardly known a parallel. Fanny's health had not improved; in fact; thn very rverae waa the ace Faery eeeuuu that reached the family made hem £el that if some decided improvement did not take place soon, her case was hopeless; and it was evi- dent, from the reserve on the part of the faculty, that they considered the matter in a serious light Matters were thus when an express arrived from Miss Guold, stating that Fanny's health still seemed to retrograde ; indeed, the doctors began to think it time to warn the family of the im- pending danger of their patient. Nothing, it appeared, could rouse her from a determined lethar- gic state It appeared like a thoughtless act on her part, tind the consequences had broken down her struggling spirit, and she appeared not the least anxious to overcome the sad and painful results. She seemed to think she was in the way-that destiny had turned her out of the course, her youthful days had pointed out, and the world had therefore no place or home for her; her father, too, so sordid in his nature, added still more to depress her, and she only longed to be away. Two months from the time we speak of, and the quiet spirit of that once bright girl, returned to him that g-.A it Of all the casualities that had taken place connected with the families in ques- tion, this seemed to be the most felt. When the old die we are not astonished, we are aware that the span of life is nearly measured, and that soon -very soon-the aged must lie down and sleep; but when we see a young and beautiful woman, whose hopes and fortunes have been shipwrecked on the false action of recurring circumstanceb-whose inexperience, and the want of judgment on the part of those intended by Providence to steer them in the path to comfort and respectability, but who, from love of gold, never attempt to direct the young and aspiring energies of their off- spring-when all this in after years rests upon the mind for the first time, and lays that mind prostrate in the dust-then, indeed, the subject becomes ode of the most painful to a contempla. tive being. The remains of the beautiful and the good were borne to their last resting ,place amidstbo greatest sorrow that ever pervaded either the immediate friends or acquaintances of the faithful and the lovely one, whose career was as short as it was mournful. A small tablet has been pieced in a neighboring country churchyard with the following lines engraved thereon, 'the comnosshion of a friends 100 CLARENCE BOLTON, 101. page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 102 CLAiRENC~I BOLTON. Stranger, whoe'er thou art, tread softly here; Nor strive to hide that gently filing tear. What once haa beauty, worth, and gruce combined, Loess here,.in peaceful slumbers now entwined. Be silent-markI while passing o'er th sod, The form atone is herea-sr spirit is with God. Twelve months had elapsed from the date of Fanny's decease when Clarence was called to the councils of the nation, and appeared in his place in Congress; indeed, so prosperous had been their course in mercantile affairs, tl at both him and his partner were now above the possibility, or rather liability,. of a retrograde movement, whilst their influence increased, as a matter of course, another ways The whole family now looked forward towards the meeting of Congress which was to witness the debut of Clarence, and who had latterly improved his mind so that every one considered that hewould one day become a great statesman; indeed he had, in society with old politicians exhibited a mind that, if directed with energy on any particular subject, would be sure to accomplish the end aimed at. There were several questions regarding the welfare of the country generally that were likely to be brought forward, and a better field or opportunity could not offer. Clarence now proceeded to Washington., The time came for his appearance in the House, and when the usual ceremonies were over and he hsd taken his seat, all eyes were upon the young numberr, Who was he ? What was his name? and many other similar questions reached his ears, while his manly figure and deportment rivetted all eyes upon him Some days elapsed, however, before he made any move or spdke at all, and many old hands thought he would be what is gener- ally termed a "silent member ;" but in this they were deceived. Clarence waited his time, and just as it was supposed the matter under consideration had been worn threadbare and the house began to flag, he rose. Every eye was now upon him, and the silence which pervaded the Assem- bly was only broken in on by the breathings of an anxious auditory. For two hours and a half did Clarence unravel the question bringing up new ideas, and chaining into complete silence and astonishment his attentive hearers; while every now and again a general burst of applause would follow some pointed observation, sont home with that tact and eloquence, that literally astonished the whole Assembly. It is almost needless to say that from that hour Clarence made numerous friends, and received the highest encomiums from persons whom he had never met before. When the papers arrived in New York with the report of his maiden speech, nothing could exceed the joy of Mr Lee's family, and the old Colonel, who now saw his most sanguine hopes brought to fri'tion, almost shed tears of joy. That his fame could pass over the mind of Miss Lee in a casual way was impossible- to' conceive, and she silently decreed that her love was unbounded for him. His business, however, being ardu- ous, and his anxiety to do justice to his constituents preventing him from leaving Washington, he proposed to Mr. Lee's family to come on to the seat of government, a request which they c, mplied with. The meeting of Clarence and the family, for whom he had provided a splendid house, was highly satisfactory to all parties, more especially for Clarence himself, who now found his leisure hours so well provided for in the presence of her, for whom he alone lived; and the whole household ,WMere scarcely settled, when visitors (the elit6 of the capital) poured in upon the family. Thus did Clarence's talent command all that was interesting and useful in the society which thronged Washington at that interesting period, while Miss Lee's beauty and accomplish-ments were the universal theme of all parties. In New York young Lee was carrying on the business still successfully, and enjoying the soci- ety of M4iss Gould, who had now somewhat-recovered from the effects of her sister's death, as well as other troubles hitherto detailed. The old Colonel sought the Washington papers eagerly, an gloated over the brilliant descriptions, that from time to time were published of his protegd .' ary feelingshtosgetirhemastery over him-not recollecting bthe fate of one, whose allegory has been left for our samonition and guidance.th mbrhaaled akn The session at Washington now began to wear out ; many of te memeshd.led tae thei daturn for ere rihomes, and Clarence, fnding that his servics were noloniger required, fusion; for what household can pack up and get under way without it ? The necessary arrange' mients for the journey being made, it was not long when all parties again met in the great city. CLARENCE BOLTON. We have now laid before our readers the life and chequered positions of our hero, and have no* only to prepare them for a favorable denouement. We are happy while we doso to be able to Wind up the account of his youthful days with pleasurable associations. - Our readers must ita. rally be prepared for the result, from previous hints to that effect, therefore we need' not recapi- tulate. Matrimony may truly be said to be the touchstone for good or evil to every one in exist- ence, and too much care and discretion cannot be used in its decision, more especially when such fatal results so often appear in public, as beacons to warn the youths of both sexes'to avoid the shoals and quicksands which, from a too hasty and ill-judged assortment on that important occa- sion, cause so many people to have their hopes and their fortunes shipwrecked. In the cases we are about to relate, however, everything that could be done has been between all the parties, andfrow experience through time, each one has been able to see whether the other was congenial to their tastes, in disposition, acquirements, and all the et ceteras which make up the character of our fallen nature. We must now, in drawing to a close, confine ourselves entirely to family matters. The Lees Were onee more established in the city, while the attachment hitherto supposed to exist between Clarence and Mr. Lee's daughter became no longer a secret ; indeed, they seemed to be made for each other, proving most completely the folly of a mere youth possessing -knowledge sufficient tobe really a judge in the matter in question so well as in after years. On the other hand, it was equally apparent that Miss Gould had for a length of time looked most favorably upon young Lee, and that a lasting attachment had been formed in that quarter. On the whole, the parties were looked upon favorably by every one connected with them, form- ing a strange juxta position to the generality of worldly transactions of the kind, as we see but few marriages where the universal consent of all parties are unconditionally given, or where some jealous 'person, perhaps in the form of an over fastidious maiden aunt, interposes her prosy ideas and authority, to mar the happiness in which she was never destined personally to be in- terested. Everything in Mr. Lee's household underwent examination, and all articles of furniture,"or other matter, not exactly according to the newest manufacture, were replaced by others; While Clarence had purchased a splendid mansion in the upper part of the city, in anticipation of coM- ing events. As soon as the situation of all parties became positively known, a series of entertainments were given in honor of the young men who had so perseveringly, and with such honor, worked their way up to the head of their profession --these complimentary usages meeting returns at the house of Mr. Lee, who now looked forward to that propitious moment when his darling child wa to leave him for ever. There is no parent but what must feel deeply on such an occasion; but in this case Mr. Lee had the full knowledge that he could not part with his daughter under more auspicious cirou stances, while he was also grateful to think that Miss Gould, who had passed through such an ordeal, and had yet a living parent whose days had been darkened by a thirst for th all evil, and who had also shut himself out from the world for that which' rust and mroth corrupt.'* The period has now arrived when we have to say, that a double matrimonial alliance had been agreed upon, and it but remained to appoint the day, when the hopes of all parties were to be e alised, by the celebration of the most solemn obligation that can be entered into by parties onthis earth. Accordingly the parties met, and it was deeded that one week alone was requisit9 et om- plete the necessary arrangements. The sun rose in its bright refulgence on the morning of that interesting day. MissLee ap-. Oeared, looking, indeed, like a bride; while Miss Gould, though beauty of another descriptlon,. was only a rivVi4n affection to Clarence's chosen friend. They mutually congratulated e as they appeared in the gorgeous and magnificently furnished apartment, that was te witness that day a change in their destinies, which could not be contemplated without some considerable UC ence and young Lee, and all the friends and relatives of both parties, now made their ap- pearance. The Ret. Thomas Brown, long known in Mr. Lee's familyaa divn ossigms godlike qualities, had been summoned to say those few words, which could not be eos dtb 103 page: 104[View Page 104] CLARENCE BOLTON. *ho parties without that seriousness accompanying the will of Him who said, that a "man shoMd. leae'his father and mother, and cleave unto his wife." All the parties being now assembled, and a contiguous apartment having been furnished with a dejeuner of the most research kindthe two loving couples took their stand, acc mpanied by the respective parties who custom invarisbly accords them on these occasions. Mr. Lee now came forward to give his daughter away, whil6 old Colonel Vanderhoost proffered his services to Miss Gould. ctwo. Mr. Brown now advanced, and opened the book, from which the responsibility of the whole bu- siness lay involved, and, witi an impressive voice, while he made a beautiful extemporaneous pre0 face, went through the ceremony. It is needless to comment on the congratulations of the whole party, and the tears of happi- ness that flowed from at least some of those deeply interested in the transactions that had now taken place. The whole company now repaired to the sumptuous breakfast table, while everything was put in order for the two happy couple, who were to leave the city that day on a tour to the Falis of Niagara. At eleven o'clock precisely, two tra veling carriages drew up to the door of Mr. Lee, when Clarence ad his lovely bride took their seats in one, and young Lee and his beautiful wife in the other, when, after mutual congratulations, they drove from the door. As they were " lov ly in their lives," it i's t6 be hoped that "in death they were not divided" We have now oly &few words 'of observation to make. We have given, as we professed io do, a faithful picture of the yogng mercantile aspirant from his earliest life. We have shown- what happy results arise from early attention to business, and a combination of energy and persever- ance, and the honorable issue resulting as the end, from a series of honorable means. We have shown society in various phases ; and we leave the subject, hoping it may, from its moral, tend t* ifuence these whose aspirations at the present moment may correspond with those as det sed -of Clarence Bolton. THE ENDI 404
