I remember an eminent New York physician, Dr. Wilkes (a great-nephew of the celebrated John Wilkes), telling me how his father had made a voyage to New York in one of the great sailing packets, which in those days were famous for their admirable accommodation. The captain was a pronounced British "tar" of the bull-dog breed, and a bit of a martinet. He used to be dreadfully wrath at "that dd dirty German, sir! a second-class passenger, who will persist in coming on the quarter-deck!" sacred to the tread of the saloon-passengers. Mr. Wilkes used to plead for the German and say, "Oh, we don't mind," &c. The German came to die America's wealthiest son, in the person of J. J. Astor, and in later days often laughingly reminded Dr. Wilkes of the incident. Mr. J. J. Astor left most of his wealth to his son, W. B. Astor, who was carefully educated, in part by Baron Bunsen, and died only a few years ago, leaving property valued at a time, too, of severe depreciation-at £8,000,000, and producing an income of not less than £400,000 at the lowest. About two-thirds of this he divided between his sons, John and William, who live in spacious but otherwise quite unostentatious abodes in Fifth Avenue. Their property continues to grow in value. It embraces land in all parts of the city.

There are many other families who have grown rich simply by the "unearned increment" arising from their New York properties. The Rhinelanders (the descendants of a successful German sugar-baker, who emigrated towards the close of the last century), who have amongst them about £120,000 a year, present a notable instance in point. It has been much noticed in the history of the United States that the descendants of the men who came to America for political reasons have distinguished themselves "in arms, in arts, in song," and statesmanship; whilst those who, like the Astors and Rhinelanders, came simply "on the make," have become conspicuous for their money, but for nothing else. The men, in fact, who really made and yet make the fame of their country are the descendants of the original English settlers.

At the corner of Thirty-fourth Street and Fifth Avenue stands a large white marble mansion, utterly devoid of architectural merit, built by a leading local celebrity, who died some ten years ago, A. T. Stewart. Mr. Stewart was an Ulster man, "hard as nails," who put his patrimony of about £1,000 into dry goods," and started a shop in New York. He was honest and able, but grasp

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ing, unsympathetic, and oppressive to those in his employ, out of whom, with the aid of a lieutenant even harder and harsher than himself, he squeezed a maximum of labour with a minimum of remuneration. He died unregretted and childless, leaving vast wealth, and his remains were stolen by body-snatchers in hopes of a ransom. Whether the body was recovered or not remains a mystery to this hour, but it is generally believed that it now rests beneath a sarcophagus in a church erected by his widow a few miles from New York. Stewart during the war cleared as much as from £600,000 to £800,000 a year. Towards the close of his life he built a "Home for Working Women." It proved an utter failure, as the women refused to live under the stringent conditions he imposed, and was speedily turned into a hotel. Mr. Stewart already had two hotels.

One of these establishments came into extraordinary prominence in 1879, in consequence of the administrator of his estate ordering that no Jews should be admitted, inasmuch as they were not desirable guests, and were generally obnoxious to those of other persuasions. It so happened that the Jew first presenting himself was Mr. Seligmann, head of a great banking firm, who naturally was highly indignant. Public opinion, curiously enough, sustained in a considerable degree the exclusion of Jews. The explanation is found in the fact of emigrant Jews of a very low class, who had acquired money but not manners, having invaded first-class hotels and made themselves highly obnoxious to the guests. In fact, a large number of hotel-keepers had practically, by extra high charges or pretending that they had no rooms, been already excluding objectionable Hebrews.

Farther up the Avenue, on the same side, we come to the celebrated abodes of the Vanderbilt family. The "cradle of the race" on American soil was Staten Island, in New York harbour, where the late Commodore Vanderbilt's father grew vegetables, which his son sold to vessels in harbour; and when the Commodore was worth millions he lived, and subsequently died, in a very unpretentious house near the centre of the city; but these grand mansions were nevertheless a scheme of his with a view to secure for his descendants a social position. This they have undoubtedly done. Prior to their erection the Vanderbilts, their enormous wealth notwithstanding, were not "in society." The late Mr. W. H. Vanderbilt's house-now his widow's-cost, with the furniture, about

£600,000. Its most attractive feature is the picture-gallery, containing an unrivalled collection of the modern French school, but (which has been, of course, much remarked) no pictures by American artists. In the dining-room is a magnificent window in stained glass, depicting the Field of the Cloth of Gold, by Oudinot, of Paris. Connected with the chief Vanderbilt mansion are two splendid houses, built by Mr. Vanderbilt for his daughters, who thus have their own separate homes, but practically under one roof with their mother.

The Roman Catholic cathedral is the most striking object in this part of Fifth Avenue. It stands out with the exceptional prominence Catholic churches so often have, when the city is viewed from a distance. Its style is Gothic, and the edifice bears a resemblance to the cathedral of Venice. It is completed, with the exception of the spires, which will, with the lantern upon them, rise to a total height of 330 feet. Archbishop McClosky, a native of Brooklyn and the first American cardinal, died two years ago, having lived to see the cathedral opened for worship.

Being so long and narrow, transit was a crucial difficulty on Manhattan Island until the elevated railroad, long established along the border of the western side of the island, was, about ten years ago, erected on two of the main arteries near the centre, and has gradually been extended beyond the northern boundary of the island into Westchester county. Rapid transit had become so allimportant a consideration as to override all other. The railroad is, of course, a great disfigurement to the streets it traverses, and

in some cases an insufferable nuisance to those whose houses it passes, whose comfort and pecuniary interest was, without compensation, ruthlessly sacrificed to the public convenience, or, rather, to the interests of the main promoters of the concern, amongst whom Mr. Cyrus Field was the most conspicuous. The fare is uniform, irrespective of distance. At one point the railroad is 63 feet in height.

In the last fifteen years clubs have increased and multiplied exceedingly in New York. The leading club, socially considered, is the Union; the entrance fee is £80 and the annual subscription £20. Nearly all the clubs of New York have very heavy entrance and subscription fees. The Union Club has a fine mansion on Fifth Avenue, with spacious rooms, handsomely appointed, and a very good cuisine. Kitchen and diningrooms are at the top of the house, to avoid

odours. Ascent is by a sumptuous lift, or elevator, as the Americans call it. The Union League Club, which occupies a most sumptuous edifice, though not in the best of taste, was established during the war. It is political, and by no means socially select. The Century, which is not a dining club, is a sort of mixture of the London Garrick, Savage, and Athenæum. With many merits, it does not commend itself to those who do not love to sit in clouds of tobacco smoke. None of these clubs have the fine libraries which Englishmen look for in similar resorts, and they are too much framed for the enjoyment of the long-pursed. This, however, does not apply to the Century.

There are two public libraries, both the gift of individuals, in the city: the Astor, founded and endowed by John Jacob Astor, has received considerable additional benefactions from his family, and is an admirable collection and on a very extensive scale; the Lennox, founded by another citizen, also wealthy through the enormously increased value of real estate, occupies a fine building opposite Central Park. It is, however, so much under the control of a superintendent, whose endeavour appears to be to keep people out of it, that its interior is a terra incognita to the general public.

The great library for hiring books is the Mercantile. It was originally instituted for clerks, but the general public has its advantages on a very moderate payment. It is a very large collection.

New York is a city of restaurants; no place offers a greater variety of food or liquor. The name of Delmonico, whose "uptown" house is in Madison Square, is now world-famous. The founder of this famous family of caterers was a young sea-captain from the Swiss-Italian canton of Ticino, who came to New York in 1825 in command of a Cuban vessel, and recognised the great future of the city. In 1827 he returned with his brother Peter (Ticino is a canton of cooks), and they presently started the establishment which was destined to become the greatest of its kind in the world. For many years the Delmonicos have had four restaurants in the city. One of them, "down town," at the junction of Beaver Street and William Street, was started so far back as 1837, and has had a considerable proportion of the celebrities of the world during the last fifty years beneath its roof. Here Louis Napoleon was wont to dine, and here, too, used to dine the Prince de Joinville, when in command of a frigate lying in New York harbour in 1840. In 1861 the

became the

A New York Window.

head centre for public banquets, balls, and entertainments of all kinds. But in 1876 the growth of New York had become so rapid that Delmonico moved nearly a mile farther up town, to Madison Square. "Delmonico's" is a leading institution of the Empire City; there is no establishment of its kind so prominent elsewhere. The prices are exceedingly high, but the accommodation is, on the whole, correspondingly superior. The profits of this firm during the war were fabulous; they had an immense stock of wines laid in prior to the heavy duties being imposed, and they subsequently sold at prices to correspond with the duties. It was in this way that Mr. Paran Stevens too, who "ran" the Fifth Avenue and many other hotels, made a colossal income. To give an idea of Delmonico's prices in 1866, just after the war, a breakfast cup of coffee and milk cost 1s. 8d., the contents of a pint bottle of Bass 2s. The Delmonicos made immense wealth out of their business; they have been a highly reputable and respected family. I do not think one now remains, but the business is still carried on. Within five minutes' walk of Union Square you may get a dinner cooked in the American, English, German, Italian, or Spanish style, with the wines and beers of all countries. In the great "beer gardens" which

on draught, and kept cool by ice. Several of these establishments (open summer and winter) have bands every evening. There is no charge for admission, and a visitor need merely call for a glass of beer. These places came into being about twelve years ago; they owe their existence to Germans, but Americans soon took very kindly to them, and it is much to be wished that Englishmen and Scotchmen had places on the same lines. There is no disorder or drunkenness (spirits are very rarely sold), simply pleasant sociability. Supper is to be had at these resorts; at some of them hot suppers are served up to midnight.

"The glory of the town" is Central Park, which, by the extraordinarily rapid growth of the city, really deserves its name. Thirty years ago it was a wilderness of swamp and rock, to-day it is a magnificent pleasureground, though somewhat too artificially ornate for English tastes. Its area is 843 acres, and it has been admirably laid out with a view to varied effects. The greatest drawback to its enjoyment is that, except on certain days, and then only in certain places, it is forbidden to walk on the grass. An exemption is made on occasion in favour of lawn tennis and cricket clubs. The total cost of Central Park to the city up to January, 1870, was over £2,000,000, and the valuation of the three wards surrounding the park rose from £7,200,000 in 1859 to over £30,000,000 in 1869. On the west side of Central Park, at a short distance, is Riverside Park, beautifully situated on a high bluff above the Hudson River. Here lie the remains of General Grant, under a most costly monument.

In the foregoing I have been prevented by the exigencies of space from doing more than sketch an outline of the greatest American city, yet I have, I hope, said enough to convey to the mind of a reader a sufficiently clear picture of a place which each year becomes of greater importance.

REGINALD WYNFORD.

IF

CHAPTER LXVIII.—THE JUDGMENT.

Alfred and Vera had ever cherished any illusions as to the issue of the suit, they cherished them no longer. They looked upon the fortune as absolutely gone, and felt that, as touching their future, they must trust to themselves alone. And they had no cause for discouragement. As yet Balmaine's part in the Day was almost a sinecure. The editor now and again asked him to write an article or review a book, and he once acted for a fortnight as the foreign sub-editor's substitute, but the salary he received was rather a retainer than a remuneration for services actually rendered. He had ample time, as well for editing the Guide as for other work, and was gradually forming an outside connection which produced an accept able addition to his income. One way and another he was earning from six to seven hundred a year; Vera half as much, and she was at work on a painting by which she expected to make something very nice indeed. In these circumstances there was no reason why they should not marry as soon as they had saved enough to furnish, and as they spent little they could look forward to an early consummation of their hopes.

Cora, practical as usual, counselled prudence, and advised the lovers not to be in too great a hurry. They could not tell what might happen; their incomes were precarious, and it would be well for them, before beginning housekeeping, to have a few hundred pounds to the good, in addition to the amount required for furnishing.

But prudence and young love do not often go together. Alfred called his cousin a Job's comforter, and inquired whether, if George and she were equally well off, they would not make haste to marry; a question which Cora thought it expedient to evade by saying something about the foolishness and impetuosity of men. As for Vera, judging by the Vaudois and not by the Grosvenor Square standard of comfort, she thought they would be rich beyond the dreams of avarice. For the rest, she left everything to mon cher ami, as she generally called Alfred, and he being thus constituted the arbiter of their destinies, decided that they should be married as soon as they could find and

furnish a house.

The house was found in the neighbourhood of Regent's Park, and was tastefully and artistically, though not luxuriously furnished, for Balmaine was determined that his wife should have a pleasant and cheerful home.

They had hardly returned from their short wedding trip to the English lakes, when Alfred received a letter from Artful and Higginbottom, headed "Hardy versus Hardy," asking him to be good enough to make an early call at the office in Lincoln's Inn Fields; a request with which he promptly complied, for although Cora, Vera, and himself had wisely resolved to discuss the question as little as might be, and were rather weary of it, they could not help taking a warm interest in the case, and wondering often, both mentally and audibly, how it would end.

Mr. Artful thought that judgment would be given in the course of a month.

"In what sense?" asked Alfred. "That I cannot say, though I have my opinion. But one point is settled--Saintly Sam won't get the fortune. We have knocked the wind out of his sails at any rate."

"I am very glad to hear it. How?"

"It was your friend Warton's doing. A sharp fellow, Warton. I sent him down to Calder to look up the antecedents of the John Hardy of that place, and pick a hole if he could in the evidence of that man Clutterbuck. He went several times, and in the end hit on a notable discovery. The morality of your native town, some seventy or eighty years ago, does not seem to have been absolutely irreproachable, Mr. Balmaine."

"Is that the notable discovery?" said Alfred, amused as much by the remark as by the gravity and pomposity with which it was made.

"So much so that if the Hardys had always been strictly moral our esteemed friend Samuel would in all probability have come into the Hardy fortune.'

"I am thankful they were not, then. But do you really mean that the judgment of the court will be influenced by the condition of Calder morality more than half a century since? You are joking, Mr. Artful."

"I never joke, Mr. Balmaine," returned the old gentleman with some asperity. And he never did intentionally. "What I mean is that

two or three generations ago it was no uncommon practice at Calder for even respectable people not to marry until they began to have a family, and Warton has discovered that John Hardy was christened on the day his father and mother were married."

And the lawyer, after taking a pinch of snuff and wrinklng his parchment-like face into a self-complacent smile, blew into his pocket-handkerchief a blast of triumph.

"An interesting fact in the history of the Hardy family, I daresay," said Alfred, who was both puzzled and amused by these demonstrations; "but I really don't see what bearing it has on the case of Hardy versus Hardy."

"You really don't?"

"I really don't," repeated Alfred, trying his very hardest to think what the old fellow was driving at.

"I am surprised. I thought everybody was aware-don't you perceive, my dear sir, that the testator being illegitimate-nulli filius sua filia-no Hardy except his own lawful issue could inherit a shilling of his money unless he had willed it to them, and of that there is no question. So let Saintly Samuel prove ever so conclusively that his John Hardy and our John Hardy are one and the same man he cannot touch a farthing of the fortune. He and the other members of the Company are claiming as next-of-kin, and in the eye of the law a person of illegitimate birth has no kin but his own parents and his own children."

"So the Fortune Company are quite out of the running?"

"Quite, and serve them quite right."

A few weeks later Balmaine went to the Vice-Chancellor's Court to hear the delivery of his judgment. It was a long rigmarole, as judgments generally are. There were many things set forth in it with which the reader is already acquainted, and some which it would not interest him to repeat. The general conclusion of the whole matter was that, in the opinion of the court, neither party to the suit was entitled to the fortune. Whether the testator and John Hardy of Calder were one and the same person was not germane to the issue, inasmuch as the John Hardy in question, being illegitimate, it was not in the nature of things that the Calder Hardys could be his next-of-kin or legal representatives. On the other hand, as the marriage of Philip Hardy and Vera Leonino had not been established to the satisfaction of the court, and as Philip Hardy not

He

only left no will, but pre-deceased his father, the elder Hardy died practically intestate and without any issue who could inherit his fortune. For these reasons the estate would escheat to the Crown. The Vice-Chancellor came to this conclusion with regret. regarded it as morally certain that Philip Hardy and Vera Leonino were legally married, a fact which he trusted that Mrs. Balmaine, with whom he expressed great sympathy, would, sooner or later, be able to establish to the satisfaction of that or some other court. He had no fault to find with the conduct of the testator's trustees; they had behaved admirably throughout, and their costs would be costs in the suit. As for the Calder Hardys, who, he understood, had formed a company for the prosecution of the claim, and with whom he had no sympathy whatever, he should decline to make an analogous order. As they had contested the proceedings, and failed to prove their case, they must themselves pay their costs.

"Is this what you expected?" asked Alfred of Artful as they left the court together.

"It was not possible to expect anything better. And you heard what the Vice Chancellor said, that he hoped your wife would be able to prove her father and mother's marriage."

"And in that case ?"

"The Crown would have to disgorge.

"A disappointment for us," put in Warton, "but a terribly dry wipe for Saintly Sam. He holds nearly all the shares, which are now of course utterly worthless, and they say it will cost him ten thousand pounds in addition."

"Serve him right, serve the rascal right!" said Artful vindictively. "I wish it had cost him twenty thousand! But I don't despair, Mr. Balmaine; we may find those witnesses even yet."

CHAPTER LXIX.-TROUBLES.

DESPITE the Vice Chancellor's sympathy, and the faint hope held out by the old lawyer, Alfred and Vera regarded the fortune as irrevocably gone. They were agreed that though they would far rather it should revert to the Crown than go to Saintly Sam, they could put it to better use than either one or the other. But they were too happy and too much' wrapped up in each other to let the loss trouble them. Vera laughingly declared that though she had lost her fortune she had found a perfect treasure of a husband, and so gained by the exchange; a com