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 A GREAT CITY, 1 
 
 (A Story of a Play of that Nanje.) 
 
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 By L. B. SHE WE LB. 
 
 ior of ' The Venetian Bridal,'" "Rose d'Atilnay," "Patriot Fugitiv 
 Mystic Bell, 11 "Widow's Husband,"' "Workmen of Paris,"' 
 "Cherries," "Rocambole," "Old Cockade, 1 ' ".Hilda,"' 
 "Valdberg," "Hidalgo's Spy," "How to Get a 
 Divorce," t: The Exiles," "The Debt of 
 Honor," "A Terrible Time," "Flot- 
 sam and Jetsam,"' "A Piece 
 
 of Lace," etc. ( "Jj I 384 
 
 m 
 
 IP 
 
 /«7 1 £ 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1884, by C . B. Jefferson, m| 
 
 L. R. Shewell, and T. Jefferson, as proprietors, in the Office g|| 
 
 of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. WM 
 
 mm 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 
 
 "WASHiiiTa-ToiNr: 
 
 1884. 
 
 ^•IP^MpMpiPl 
 
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SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY. 
 
 Founded on the Play of that Name, and Copyrighted accord- 
 ing to Act of Congress in the Year 1884, by C. B. Jef- 
 ferson, L. R. She well, and T. Jefferson, in 
 the Office of the Librarian of Con- 
 gress, at Washington. — All 
 Rights Reserved. 
 
 In the year of grace one thousand eight hundred and sixty five, 
 Thomas Benson, banker and millionaire, of the city of New York, 
 lay dying in the second story front room of the house which he had 
 dwelt in for years. The house was one of those old-fashioned man- 
 sions on Broadway, which are now rapidly disappearing before the 
 march of improvement. The progressive American character is rap- 
 idly eliminating all those landmarks of the past, so that the place 
 that "knew them once, now knows them no more," and their very 
 existence is forgotten, save by some old inhabitant who clings with 
 conservative fidelity to the traditions of the past, and will not admit 
 that the glitter and regal magnificence of the present day, produced by 
 the wild extravaganc of Wall St., can ever eclipse the solid grandeur 
 and sterling worth of those old Knickerbocker families, who held their 
 court in Bleecker and Bond Sts. The house with which we have the 
 most to do at present served Mr. Benson's father, as it had himself, 
 in the double capacity of a dwelling and a place of business; and 
 Benson's City Bank was noted far and near for its financial solidity, 
 and the sterling integrity of its founders. The unstained commer- 
 cial record of a century had not been tarnished in the hands of the 
 poor old man who lay gasping for breath in the same chamber in 
 which he first saw the light some seventy years before. Fortune had 
 been lavish of her favors and had showered wealth and honors on 
 him without stint; all the happiness of domestic life had been his — 
 a loving and devoted wife had brought sunshine to the old mansion, 
 and blessed his life with her sweet companionship, but she had been 
 dead for fifteen years at the period when our narrative begins. She 
 left him, however, a consolation and a comfort in his old age, in their 
 daughter Annie, to whom he was fondly attached, and who returned 
 his affection with interest. There were also two other inmates of 
 his family: George, a nephew, son of a younger brother, whose short 
 and dissipated career had speedily brought his existence to an end, 
 and relieved his brother Thomas of continually recurring sorrow and 
 shame. Tom Cooper, also an orphan, ^the son of an old and valued 
 attache of the bank, had also been taken into his household by the 
 
2 SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY. 
 
 kind-hearted banker. As they grew up and their characters devel- 
 oped, Annie became a sweet, confiding and affectionate girl. Tom 
 Cooper, a noble, manly young fellow, frank and open as the day; 
 whilst George Benson, inheriting, no doubt, his father's vices, in- 
 dulged secretly in all manner of dissipation, but artfully concealed 
 his irregularities from his guardian. The liberal allowance made 
 him by his UDcle soon became insufficient for his needs, and he bor- 
 rowed all he could from Cooper and his cousin Annie. When he had 
 exhausted their means as well as his own, he had recourse to theft to 
 supply the means to minister to his pleasures. Mr. Benson had im- 
 plicit confidence in those around him, and was plundered with ease, 
 whilst George, finding his peculations undiscovered, grew bolder 
 and more desperate. At length a pocket-book containing a consid- 
 erable sum was missed, and in the excitement attendant on its loss 
 George Benson found an opportunity to secrete the rifled pocket- 
 book in Cooper's room, and artfully directed suspicion in that quar- 
 ter. On its discovery Mr. Benson, grieved and indignant that one 
 on whom he had heaped benefits should be so ungrateful and un- 
 worthy, whilst he refused to prosecute, yet sternly ordered the offend- 
 ing youth to quit his house and never see his face again. The 
 circumstantial evidence was too strong against the poor lad, and find- 
 ing all his protestations of innocence received with incredulity, he 
 sadly turned away from his benefactor's house and went out into the 
 world to seek his fortune. Annie became deeply attached to a 
 worthy young fellow, whose only fault was his poverty, but George 
 managed to poison his uncle's mind against him; the result was, he 
 was forbidden the house and Annie commanded to think no more of 
 him. Trusting to her father's affection to forgive and re-instate 
 her in his heart, she consented to a clandestine marriage, which 
 deeply incensed her father, and George, by his lies and misrepre- 
 sentations, kept the old man's anger alive, so that he refused her for- 
 giveness and would not see her. Young Benson having artfully 
 disposed of the other rivals for his uncle's favor, soon had complete 
 control of affairs, and the doting old gentleman, believing that the 
 others had been ungrateful and disobedient, bestowed his entire con- 
 fidence and affection on his unprincipled nephew, and disinheriting 
 his daughter, left George Benson his sole heir. 
 
 Mr. Benson, broken-hearted at his daughter's desertion and in- 
 gratitude, exaggerated as it was by young Benson, fell sick, and 
 grew gradually worse and worse, until his death became a matter of 
 but a few days. George, who, taking advantage of his uncle's ill- 
 ness, and elated at his brilliant prospects, and the certainty of his 
 uncle's speedy death, had given free rein to his vicious propensities, 
 and had become desperately involved. The old man, surrounded by 
 servants, who were completely in the interest of his nephew, was 
 perfectly inaccessible to those who would have revealed the truth to 
 him, and brought about a reconciliation with his daughter, of whom 
 he raved continually in his delirium. She, poor girl, had become a 
 widow, and, with a child three years old, eked out a miserable sub- 
 sistence by the aid of her needle. George Benson, the expectant 
 heir to his uncle's millions, had already discounted the old man's 
 
SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY. 3 
 
 death, and by the aid of a Jew pawnbroker, Abe Nathans, was en- 
 abled to make his regular appearance at the gaming table, to which 
 he was a regular devotee. 'Tis an old and true saying, that it is 
 "tedious waiting for dead men's shoon," and Mr. Benson's strong 
 constitution, which his regular habits had never impaired, kept life 
 in his feeble frame with singular tenacity. The shrewd Hebrew, 
 finding that young Benson's drafts on his exchequer were becoming 
 more frequent and reckless, became alarmed, and positively refused 
 further advances without some collateral security, knowing that as 
 his client had access to all the valuables in the Benson mansion, he 
 could easily deposit something that would secure him against loss. 
 • Goaded to desperation, George had that evening taken advantage of 
 a moment of insensibility on the part of his uncle and purloined a 
 casket of valuable diamonds which had belonged to the late Mrs. 
 Benson, and had hurried to deposit them with his Shylock and re- 
 ceive a new supply for the needs of the night's debauch. He found 
 Nathans at his pawnbroking establishment near Catharine Market, 
 grudgingly doling out small sums to the denizens of tliat locality, 
 whose needs had driven them to his door with the few articles of 
 value their poverty still possessed. Abe Nathans was a pawnbroker 
 by inheritance as well as nature; as a baby he clutched at diamonds 
 and toyed with gold coins. As he reposed on the ample bosom of 
 his maternal parent, and drew his sustenance therefrom, the horizon 
 of his infant vision was bounded by the opposite side of the narrow 
 dirty street in which he was born, and the flutter of second-hand 
 garments that swayed to and fro in the wind, like so many corpses 
 dangling from the gallows, took the place in his infant imagination 
 of green fields and waving branches. He knew nothing but pawn- 
 broking — had never seen anything else; callous to human suffering 
 and deaf to the voice of misery, he grew up to manhood with a 
 splendid idea of that peculiar vocation. When his progenitor, Abra- 
 ham, Sr., "slept with his fathers," his widow Leah continued the 
 business with young Abe as her right hand man; and when, a few 
 years later, smothered by fat, around what she called her heart, she, 
 too, succumbed, and paid the debt of nature, her son laid her beside 
 his father, and on her lifeless clay dropped the first tears he was 
 ever known to shed, as he feelingly eulogized her as the "best woman 
 to run a pawnshop he ever knew." He found himself, at last,' sole 
 master of the shop, with a keen training and aptitude for business, 
 and speedily put in practice the lessons he had imbibed with his 
 worthy mother's milk and learned at her knee. * He throve apace, for 
 he was rapacious, and his victims helpless. He was gross and portly, 
 always flashily dressed with loud jewelry, heavy watch chains, and 
 diamonds; his manner was tyrannical and overbearing, and he was 
 harsh and even brutal to those whom misery or dissipation drove to 
 seek his aid. The house itself was an old tumble-down affair, and 
 being below the grade of the street was reached by a descent of four 
 steps; a large bulk window, level with the sidewalk, was filled with 
 the heterogeneous display of goods usually found in such establish- 
 ments — old china, musical instruments, books, watches, silverware, 
 planes, chisels, saws, guns and pistols; pictures of various degrees 
 
4 SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY. 
 
 of atrocity were hanging on the walls; shelves filled with bundles of 
 clothing, bedding, etc., with pawn tickets attached, surrounded the 
 room. A counter ran across in front of the door with three private 
 compartments in it on the left, for the accommodation of those who, 
 from sentiments of shame or fear of detection, desired to veil their 
 transactions from publicity; but the general public and that portion 
 of the regular clientele of the establishment, to whom habit had 
 made a visit to the pawnshop a second nature, the Common counter 
 was sufficient. The desk of the proprietor was located behind a 
 screen where, like a bloated human spider, he could sit unobserved 
 and watch the flies swarming to his net. A cosy grate with a cheer- 
 ful fire burning in it was the only thing in the apartment that had 
 the slightest semblance of comfort about it, and above it over the 
 mantle-piece hung a smoky painting appropriately depicting a ship- 
 wreck. The clerk, Simon Abeles, was busily engaged appraising 
 the goods offered for pawn at far below their value, and Nathans in- 
 terjected his remarks and commands, in his usual unamiable man- 
 ner. Just at this moment the prodigal Benson entered, and moodily 
 flinging the casket of diamonds down before his merciless creditor, 
 demanded further advances. He had been drinking heavily, and the 
 effects of his debauch were plainly visible in his unsteady gait and 
 unstrung nerves. The Jew's eyes glistened as he gloated greedily 
 over the diamonds, but noticing the condition of his client he handed 
 him a bottle of brandy, and counseled him to take a draught, and 
 steady his nerves. Benson, nothing loth, clutched it eagerly, and 
 tremblingly poured out a dram, the proportions of which filled Na- 
 thans with dismay. He then related the means by which he had ob- 
 tained the jewels, but cursed the Jew for forcing him to take such 
 an unnecessary risk, as he believed the old man was sinking fast 
 and could scarcely last the night through. He, however, insisted 
 that Nathans should advance him one thousand dollars more. The 
 pawnbroker pleaded poverty, but proffered $500, which Benson, 
 with a curse on the Jew's stinginess, agreed to accept. Just as Na- 
 thans was about to write the cheque a young sailor entered with a 
 bundle in his hand. He was a little the worse for liquor, and wished 
 to know if the Jew would advance him something on an ivory ship, 
 which he had carved himself, and which was at his lodgings. The 
 Jew desired him to bring it to him for valuation, and just as he 
 turned to fetch it Benson, who had been attracted by his voice, came 
 from behind the screen that had hitherto concealed him, and recog- 
 nized him as Tom Cooper, the young man who had been brought up 
 with him in his uncle's house, and whose expulsion he had procured by 
 secreting the pocket-book in his room. The recognition was mutual, 
 and a rather stormy scene of recrimination took place, and Tom fully 
 explained that he understood and appreciated how much he was in- 
 debted to George Benson for past disgrace and present poverty. 
 He had shipped for a voyage to the China seas on leaving Mr. Ben- 
 son, and had just returned from a three years' cruise; sailor like, he 
 had availed himself of his first liberty on shore to enjoy himself with 
 some shipmates, and consequently found himself without money to 
 pay his board. His ivory ship he thought might be of some value, 
 
SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY. 5 
 
 and he proposed to raise enough on that to extricate him from his 
 dilemma. He had another object in view, too, which was to seek 
 his old benefactor, and, if possible, convince him of the injustice he 
 had done him. He had also heard that Annie had been driven from 
 her father's home and heart, and he had resolved, if possible, to find her 
 out, and bring father and daughter once more together. This pur- 
 pose he commiAicated to Benson in the course of a somewhat ex- 
 cited discussion, and enraged him so much that it was only with 
 great difficulty that Nathans prevented a personal collision between 
 them, but as Tom left the shop immediately after uttering his defi- 
 ance, Nathans succeeded in pacifying Benson with the idea that 
 being forewarned he was forearmed. 
 
 Scarcely had the sailor departed, than by one of those strange 
 coincidences that brings parties separated for years suddenly to- 
 gether again, Annie Standish, George's cousin, entered, leading her 
 little child by the hand. She was wretchedly poor, sick, and in sore 
 need. She besought the Jew to lend her some money on a valuable 
 necklace, the last possession that remained to her, but he treated 
 her with such brutal insolence that the poor lady wept bitter tears 
 of shame and humiliation. He turned contemptuously from her to 
 address some remark to Benson, and incautiously called him by 
 name; — she started as she heard it, and, coming to the screen, recog- 
 nized her cousin. She implored him to give her some news of her 
 father, but he told her brutally that the old man was dying, and had 
 nothing but curses for her. Overcome by this news, she fainted, and 
 the Jew dispatched his clerk for a policeman to remove her. Just 
 then a good-heafted Irish girl of the neighborhood, named Biddy 
 Nolan, entered in search of a vagrant cousin of hers, a young jail 
 bird and sneak thief, Jim Farren, who had stolen his mother's wash- 
 board and flat-irons. And all her sympathies were excited by the 
 condition of Mrs. Standish, whom she recognized as living next door 
 in the alley, and who had been turned out of the house that day, for 
 inability to pay her rent. She insisted in accompanying her when 
 the policeman took her away to the station, but before Annie left 
 she solemnly addressed George Benson and charged him with being 
 the author of all her sorrows. Heartless as he was he could not 
 help being shaken by this incident, for his conscience was not en- 
 tirely dead within him, but consoled himself with another heavy 
 drink of brandy. Nathans, alarmed at the rapidity with which his 
 liquor had disappeared, but under pretence of saving his friend from 
 an attack of delirium tremens, secured the bottle and put it out of 
 Benson's way. Xhey were interrupted by the entrance of Jim Far- 
 ren, who brought the articles stolen from his mother, and easily ne- 
 gotiated a loan upon them. He recognized Benson as an old em- 
 ployer of his, on various delicate and doubtful missions, He was cut 
 short, however, in his remarks and curtly desired to leaves, but just 
 as he was about to do so, and the attention of the others was divert- 
 ed for a moment from him, he saw through the glass door Mr. Ark- 
 wright, a detective, who was about to enter, and as he had no desire 
 to meet him, for professional reasons, he hastily concealed himself in 
 one of the private compartments, unnoticed by the others. The de- 
 
6 SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY. 
 
 tective's business with Nathans was to notify him of the loss of 
 casket of valuable diamonds which had been stolen from Mr. Benson, 
 and of which he had just discovered the theft and notified the po- 
 lice. He warned the Jew not to advance anything on them, and to 
 call in an officer and arrest any one offering them for pawn. Ben- 
 son, who had concealed himself behind the screen, and was not seen 
 by the detective, was filled with consternation, &ad at his exit, 
 held an anxious consultation with Nathans as to the 
 best means of disposing of the diamonds and evading 
 detection. The shrewd cunning of the Jew proposed 
 a plan by which they could avert suspicion, and at 
 the same time Benson could rid himself of an active and relentless 
 enemy, which was in effect that they should conceal them in the 
 bundle of clothing inadvertently left behind him by Tom Cooper, 
 thus repeating the ruse by which Benson had once before made him 
 his scape-goat and driven from his uncle's house. The diamonds 
 being placed in the sailor's bundle, Benson slipped out by a rear 
 door and the Jew awaited Tom's return. When he did return, bring- 
 ing his ivory ship with him, Nathans, by insinuations against his 
 honesty, provoked Tom to a quarrel, and he assaulted the Jew. A 
 policeman was called in to arrest him, and as he was taking him in cus- 
 tody Arkwright, the detective, who had not yet left the neighborhood, 
 entered, attracted by the disturbance. He recognized Tom as the 
 person whom he had seen on the previous evening climbing the tele- 
 graph pole in front of Mr. Benson's house and peering in at the 
 second-story window. As Tom was about to leave in the custody 
 of the officer, he asked to be allowed to take his ship with him and 
 his bundle of duds. Nathans indignantly flung it to him, but it be- 
 ing intercepted by the detective and opened by him, the missing dia- 
 monds were found in it, and he was arrested and accused of having 
 stolen them. Paralyzed by this seemingly overwhelming proof of 
 his guilt, Tom can offer no explanation, and finds himself once more 
 hopelessly in the toils of his arch enemy, Benson. At this crisis Jim 
 Farren, unaware of what had transpired, returned in search of Benson 
 and ran into the detective's clutches. He had been accused of unlaw- 
 fully appropriating a countryman's watch and wallet, and Arkwright 
 had been on the look-out for him. He was hand-cuffed to Tom, and 
 thus coupled with a thief and charged with robbejy the poor sailor 
 was marched off to the station. Benson, who had been on the watch, 
 re-entered by the private door as they departed, and he and the Jew 
 exchanged congratulations on their narrow escape and the success of 
 their scheme. 
 
 The individual whom pleasure, inclination or business induces to 
 take a trip up the East River to Harlem cannot fail to be struck by 
 the various public institutions for the care of the city's wards — the 
 poor, the unfortunate and the vicious, and which are located on the 
 beautiful islands that lie between the Brooklyn Bridge and Harlem 
 River. Blackwell's, Ward's, and Randall's Islands are covered with 
 numerous massive buildings erected by the munificence of the great 
 metropolis. The situation has many natural advantages, for while 
 in convenient proximity to the city it is perfectly salubrious, and al- 
 
SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY. 7 
 
 though being in the midst of the great communities surrounding 
 them the dangerous classes are isolated from direct contact with the 
 body politic. The most important of these is Blackwell's Island, and 
 here the convict and the pauper form a small community of 
 their own, small only in comparison with the great city in 
 whose shadow it lies, but thickly peopled by those whom 
 vice, poverty or crime have compelled to a forced residence 
 therein. In the reception room, attached to the penal institution, a 
 gentleman in severe clerical costume, was inquiring of a turnkey, 
 concerning a convict by the name of James Farren, whom he wished 
 to see. He was accompanied by our old acquaintance, Nathans, who 
 seemed somewhat subdued in manner, at finding himself voluntarily 
 vithin the walls, in which he felt that he deserved to be an inmate, 
 nore than many who were incarcerated there. The reverend gentle- 
 nen, who seemed .to be armed with permission from one high in au- 
 thority, was treated with extreme deference by the obsequious offi- 
 cial, and his request was speedily complied with. As Jim Farren, 
 clad in prison garb stood before him, he appeared strangely suspi- 
 cious of his interrogator, until the turnkey leaving them alone, the 
 Reverend Mr. Plumgullion cast off his disguise, and appeared as Mr. 
 xeorge Benson. The object of his disguise and visit, was soon 
 nade apparent. He desired to assist Farren to escape from the 
 Island, and for that purpose had heavily bribed the officials to assist 
 his flight. He had provided a boat, which would be moored near 
 the gate, at which Farren was to escape, and in it, he would find a 
 nit of clothes to take the place of that provided by the State, as 
 bat was so peculiar in pattern and cut that it might excite attention 
 vhen he returned to civilization. But (as George Benson's selfish 
 nature never conceived any plan without a motive that should bene- 
 fit himself first, last and always), he imposed as a condition, that Jim 
 should steal the child of a poor woman who lay dying in the pauper 
 ward, and take it with him in his flight, disposing of it as he crossed 
 the river. The motive in this case will be understood, when the 
 reader learns that the dying woman is Annie Standish, and that her 
 child was the sole heiress to Thomas Benson's enormous wealth. In 
 a moment of remorse Mr. Benson had destroyed the will he had been 
 induced to make in favor of his nephew, and left him instead, the 
 guardianship of Annie's child, with the reversion of the estate in 
 event of her death. Although he could not forgive the daughter 
 who had so deeply wounded him, and broken his heart, he would not 
 disinherit her child. Farren eagerly agreed to abet young Benson 
 in his villainous scheme, and promised to make the attempt that 
 very night. Benson had provided him with the means to break out 
 of his cell, and once clear of that, the rest was comparatively easy. 
 All being settled to their satisfaction, the worthy trio parted, the ' 
 Rev'd Mr. Plumgullion and his Hebrew friend returning to the city 
 to await results, and young Mr. Farren rejoining his convict asso- 
 ciates, to mature his plans for escape. By a strange chance, Jim had 
 never been separated from Tom Cooper since the day they were ar- 
 rested together. Together they had been tried, sentenced on the 
 same day, consigned to the Island in the same batch of prisoners, 
 
SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY. 
 
 and placed in the same gang to work — their cells adjoined one an- 
 other, and jointly they had concocted a plan for escape, prior to the 
 opportunity now afforded. With this purpose they had partially 
 cut through the bars of Cooper's cell, which looked out upon the 
 jail yard, and Jim had burrowed a passage from his own cell into 
 that of his chum. He was unskilled in the use of a boat, whilst 
 Tom, as a sailor, knew all about it, besides, as he had to pass 
 through Tom's cell to gain the yard, he could not well avoid making 
 him a confidant, so he resolved to make him also the companion of 
 his flight. Liberty is sweet to all, and he had little trouble to per- 
 suade Tom to accompany him. He was, of course, ignorant of the 
 connection existing between Cooper and Benson, but it is extremely 
 doubtful if he had known it, if it would have altered his plans, for 
 he was as selfish as his employer. Their cells were located directly 
 under a portion of the pauper ward, which was used as a hospital, 
 and in the room directly over them, Annie Standish was breathing 
 her last, attended by the faithful friend Biddy, who took advantage 
 of every moment she could spare from her own laborious struggle 
 for existence, to comfort and nurse the lonely wretched woman. 
 She felt that the supreme moment was near at hand, and could not 
 desert her in her bitter hour of need. Annie lay dreamingly on her 
 pillow, and although physically weak, her mental vision was unob- 
 scured, and she was busy with memories of the past, and anxious 
 thoughts for the future of her child. Her mind reverted to the 
 home of her childhood ; again she heard the singing of the birds, and 
 watched the flowers blossom, while tall trees waved above her, and 
 merry voices floated out upon the fragrant air — again a mother's lov- 
 ing breast was her pillow, and a father's good night blessing soothed 
 her infant slumbers. Alas! the mother's lips that pressed her brow 
 so fondly, had long since mouldered to dust in the little church- 
 yard, and the neglected grave was overgrown and choked with 
 weeds, the father's heart had turned to icy hatred, and their un- 
 happy child was alone and unfriended in the world, save by the 
 kindly Irish girl, whom fate had made her only friend. With a ner- 
 vous start she awoke from her reverie, and calling Biddy to her, 
 begged her to bring the child, which was sleeping soundly in a 
 corner of the room. She brought the baby to its dying mother, who 
 solemnly commended it to her care, receiving a pledge from her 
 that she would never desert her. Overcome by this last effort, and 
 the excess of her emotions, she fell back in a swoon, which was only 
 the precursor of death. The doctor entered, and jointly they 
 watched in silence and sympathy the flickering light of life go out, 
 and the immortal soul escape in one long drawn sigh from the pallid 
 lips. The green shadow from the wing of the angel of death passed 
 over the face for but an instant, and then flashed away, leaving it 
 white, and marble like in its stillness, and they knew that all was 
 over, and the weary one was at rest. During this time, Jim and 
 Tom had not been idle, and had succeeded in cutting their way 
 out of their cells, and while the Doctor and Biddy were occupied 
 with Annie, Jim entered stealthily through a window at the back of 
 the room he had reached by the aid of a low shed, which he had 
 
SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY. 
 
 easily scaled. On tip toe he approached the sleeping child, and 
 placing over its face a sponge saturated with chloroform, carried it 
 noiselessly to the window, and departed as he came. Tom, who 
 had been made to believe that it was Jim's own child, whom he 
 wished to take with him, received it from him, and when Jim re- 
 joined him on the ground, they began cautiously to make their es- 
 cape, unchallenged by the corrupt officials. They found but little 
 interruption until they reached the last gate, where they barely es- 
 caped encountering a turnkey who had not been bribed. They were 
 yarned by one of the warders who was in the plot, and fortunately 
 had time to conceal themselves in an old tool house. The one faith- 
 ful custodian was piped off by his corrupt coadjutor, and as he left 
 the gate open for a moment, the convicts seized the opportunity to 
 get on the other side of it before his return. They concealed them- 
 selves behind the wall until he had locked the gate and departed, 
 and then entered the boat, which they found according to promise 
 aoored among the rocks. Under Tom's sturdy strokes the boat 
 oon bore them away from prison bars to life and freedom. In their 
 vay lay the rocks at Hell Gate; when they reached that place Jim 
 proposed that they should land in order to enable him to change his 
 convict suit for the one which had been provided for him. Once on 
 the rocks, and while Tom's back was turned Jim resolved to rid 
 himself of the child by tying it to the anchor and flinging it over- 
 board, but Tom turning quickly detected his purpose, and attempted 
 to prevent it. Jim dashed him to the ground, and before Tom could 
 regain his feet he flung the child into the river. Tom was about to 
 dive after it when Jim seized him by the collar, but Tom slipped 
 out of his jacket and plunged in. Jim lost his balance and fell 
 backward, but recovering himself seized a large rock, and poised it 
 above his head, waiting to strike Tom with it when he should re- 
 appear. As he was standing thus a shot was fired, and Jim fell into 
 the river, apparently wounded. A patrol boat came swiftly in sight, 
 and taking him in carried him on up the river. A baby's arm was 
 seen to waive above the water for a moment, and the next Tom rose, 
 clinging to the rock upon which he clambered with the baby's arms 
 convulsively clasped about his neck. Exhausted he fell upon the 
 rock, a heavy cloud drifted from before the face of the moon, the 
 shadows were dispelled and bathed in the pure effulgence of her light, 
 our hero, panting for breath, eveloped the little shivering orphan in 
 his jacket. 
 
 Fifteen years has elapsed since the incidents last related occurred, 
 and time had brought many changes to our old friends. We find 
 them in one of those low-roofed houses, part dwelling and part boat 
 house, which are to be found on the banks of the Harlem River and 
 extending even around the bend into the East River. They all have 
 the same general character, sails, oars, masts, nets and fishing tackle 
 are to be seen in every available corner; whilst across the entire 
 width of the house a broad porch extends, usually covered by an 
 awning, and with a flight of steps leading down to a landing stage 
 in the water around the house, which is generally built over the 
 water, lie at anchor a miniature fleet of small craft of all descrip- 
 
10 SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY. 
 
 tions. from the small batteau and racing shell to the sail boat of 
 two or three tons, which can accommodate a club for an excursion 
 down the harbor. There is excellent fishing, however, directly- 
 opposite, and many New York fishermen make piscatorial 
 excursions that do not take them out of sight of their loved 
 city, whilst affording them a fair degree of sport. It is the 
 early fall of 1881, and Pop Tobin, the proprietor of the boat 
 house, but from his age and infirmities, past all work, is seated near 
 the open fireplace in a large arm chair, and smokes his dhudeen as 
 he croons an old Irish ballad, and in imagination revisits once more the 
 " Ould sod." Biddy Ronan, buxom and cheerful, but grown a trifle 
 older and stouter, is his housekeeper. Tom Cooper, now a handsome 
 fellow, thirty-five years of age, is the bread-winner of the house, and 
 spends most of his time on the river in his boats. On the night of 
 his escape from BlackwelPs he landed at Pop Tobin's, and, confiding 
 all to him, found shelter and employment and a hearty welcome for 
 himself and the little orphan who was his companion. Biddy, who 
 had seen the child by accident about a year after she had disappeared, 
 recognized her by the necklace which the dying mother had elapsed 
 about her neck. She was readily persuaded to forego her special 
 claims and share the guardianship with Tom Cooper (who had as- 
 sumed the name of Hardy, for purposes of concealment) and Pop 
 Tobin. By a singular fatality no one knew anything about the 
 child's parentage. Tom, who had never met Annie since leaving her 
 father's house, and had never heard her married name, Had no": the 
 slightest suspicion that the child he was protecting was his old ben- 
 efactor's granddaughter, and Mrs. Standish had so jealously con- 
 cealed her identity, even from Biddy, that she, knew nothing more of 
 her than had come under her own observation. Therefore they sup- 
 posed the child an orphan, without kindred, or even friends save 
 themselves. Tom had grown a full beard, and was so changed in 
 appearance that he would not be recognized, and as so many years 
 had elapsed he felt secure from detection. But the child, Nellie, 
 who was the center of all their thoughts, as well as the object of 
 their fondest care, had not yet returned home, although she had been 
 anxiously expected. The occasion was one of great interest to them 
 all for it was the birthday of the child rescued from death by Tom 
 some fifteen years before, within sight of their doors. The members 
 of the little family had all provided gifts in "honor of the event, and 
 impatiently awaited the return of the one who was so dear to them 
 all. They had not long to wait, however, and Nellie, the sunbeam 
 of their home, soon danced joyously into their midst. She carried 
 a basket filled with autumn leaves, aad had grown to be a tall, well- 
 shaped, handsome girl of eighteen. She was glowing with health 
 and excitement, and affectionately greeted her friends. She received 
 their gifts and congratulations with childish pleasure, tempered by 
 womanly dignity. But that was not all. She had been promised by 
 Tom that he would relate the story of her life, to which she was yet 
 a stranger, and with eager impatience she urged the fulfillment of 
 his promise. He told her that in the evening she should know all. 
 Satisfied with this she carried her gifts to her own room, and Pop 
 
 
SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY. 11 
 
 Tobin retired to bed. As soon as Tom found himself alone with 
 Biddy, he confided to her the fears that disturbed him. He dreaded 
 the effect the disclosure might have on Nellie, and most of all he 
 shrank from confessing to her that he had ever been a convict, lest she 
 should shrink from him and he should forfeit her respect and esteem ; 
 and yet he did not see how he could avoid telling her the truth, and at 
 the same time explain their meeting at Hell Gate. Biddy encouraged 
 and advised him to avoid all reference to the convict question, and 
 explain their meeting on the river as purely accidental. In the 
 Durse of the interview Biddy discovered, with a woman's keen 
 perception in such matters, the true state of Tom's feelings toward 
 Nellie, for unconsciously to himself he had fallen in love with the 
 beautiful girl, and even now would not confess the secret to himself. 
 3ut Biddy revealed it to him, startling him with the discovery; at 
 first he would fain deny, but finally avowed it, and penitently made 
 confession. She urged this as an additional reason for him to avoid 
 all allusions to his convict life, and relate Nellie's story with that 
 exception, as it had no bearing upon the main story itself ; with this 
 understanding, they called Nellie, and, seated between her two 
 friends, she learned for the first time that they were no kin of hers, 
 but that she was an orphan waif whom chance had confided to their 
 care. All that Biddy knew or could tell her of her mother was, 
 that she was wretchedly poor, and had been sent to the pauper's 
 yard on Blackwell's Island, where she died. Nellie was much af- 
 fected when she learned the truth, and Tom delicately left her alone 
 vith Biddy to recover herself. Biddy sounded the young girl on the 
 subject nearest her heart, and finding that Tom's affection was recipro- 
 cated, as Nellie artlessly confessed it to her, in reciting her deep, ob- 
 ligations and gratitude to him; and she begged her to thank him in 
 her name, as she felt she could not adequately do so. Biddy urged 
 her to do it herself, and Tom, re-entering opportunely, she left them 
 together, and the consequence was, a mutual explanation, and Nel- 
 lie and Tom became engaged. They were- absorbed in their happi- 
 ness when a knock was heard at the door, and a broken-down tramp 
 entered and asked for food. Nellie hastened to the kitchen to pro- 
 cure it for him, and instantly returned, but in the brief moment of 
 her absence the two men had recognized each other. The tramp 
 was none other than Jim Farren, his former convict pal, whom Tom 
 had thought dead, but who had now risen as if from the grave and 
 confronted him, just as he had reached, as he thought, the very pin- 
 nacle of happiness. He knew that he had nothing to hope from Jim's 
 mercy, and, crushed by the fear of discovery, and of being shamed 
 before Nellie, he bowed his head upon his hands and was sorrow 
 stricken. As Nellie returned and handed the tramp the food she 
 had brought he fixed a steady gaze upon the necklace she wore 
 about her neck. He knew by it that he could not be mistaken, and 
 that he had found in the same moment his two companions of that 
 eventful night, and chuckled with satisfaction at the thought that he 
 could gratify revenge by exposing his former pal, and win a princely 
 reward for discovering Thomas Benson's lost heiress. Nellie, alarmed 
 at his earnest look, crossed quickly to Tom, whose despondent atti- 
 
12 SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY. 
 
 tude filled her with vague unrest, and stood in wondering bewilder- 
 ment as Jim bowed himself out, muttering his thanks, and chuckling 
 at the discovery he had made. . Cll~ I 
 
 After a night passed in restless anxiety, Tom, who had brooded 
 over the events of the last few hours until thought had almost be- 
 come a torture, was seated at the table, his head bowed upon his 
 folded arms. Biddy, who had entered unperceived, softly approached 
 him and rested her hand affectionately on his shoulder, but at her 
 touch he started up, and as he looked into her face she saw with 
 dismay the change that had come over him since she left him on the 
 previous night, and to her eager questioning he answered with the 
 relation of Jim's visit and recognition of him, — his fears for the re- 
 sult, and his resolve to depart at once before it was too late. She 
 agreed with him as to the wisdom of his course, and he began to 
 make hurried preparations for his departure, assisted by Biddy. Her 
 absence from the apartment for a brief moment afforded the oppor- 
 tunity to Jim for which he had been watching, and, boldly entering, 
 he demanded a full recognition of their former association. He de- 
 nounced Tom for having thwarted him in a scheme which would 
 have made his fortune, and demanded hush money. Tom, at first, 
 tried to deny his identity, but Jim persisted, and becoming louder 
 and more insolent, Tom, who feared that Nellie would overhear, ad- 
 mitted that he was the man whom Jim had sought so long. He 
 shared the small amount of money he had with Jim, hoping thereby 
 to purchase his silence, and urged him to leave him after having 
 promised to see and help him further; as he was about to depart, 
 Nellie entered the room and overheard the last words that passed 
 between them. They did not tend to reassure her, and clinging to 
 Tom, she implored him to tell her the meaning of the strange change 
 in his manner, and the singular influence that the tramp seemed to 
 exercise over him. He endeavored to reassure her, but his evasive 
 answers only alarmed her still further. At this juncture Jim re-ap- 
 peared at the back of the cottage accompanied by George Benson, 
 to whom he pointed out the couple and then retired. Benson 
 listened intently for a few moments, and then coming forward claimed 
 Nellie as his ward under the will of her grandfather, the late Thomas 
 Benson. Finding that Tom was determined not to part with Nellie, 
 Benson called to his assistance the detective, Arkwrighr, whom he 
 had kept in waiting outside for any emergency. Tom could not 
 and would not believe that Nellie was the person whom they sought, 
 but Biddy having entered, inadvertently confirms Benson's state- 
 ment, that the child was the daughter of Mrs. Standish, whom Ben- 
 son declares was Thomas Benson's daughter. He persisted in his 
 rights as a guardian, and urged, furthermore, that it was unjust to 
 the girl herself to keep her hidden in such obscurity, when wealth 
 and station were awaiting her. Convinced by this argument, and 
 shrinking before the insinuations of Benson, that his opposition pro- 
 ceeded from mercenary motives, Tom withdrew his opposition and 
 urged Nellie to follow her guardian. She refused point blank to 
 leave her good friends. Benson sneeringly re-echoed her words, 
 and calling in Jim, whom he introduced as a thief and ex-oonvict, 
 
SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY. 13 
 
 the latter claimed Biddy as his cousin. Although shocked, Nellie 
 was firm in her refusal, and clung to Tom. Stung by her opposition, 
 Benson denounced him as an escaped convict with an unfinished 
 sentence to serve, and his words are corroborated by Arkwright. 
 Nellie turned to Tom and demanded of him if this accusation was 
 true, refusing to believe it from any other lips but his. Tom with 
 bowed head confessed that it was true, but earnestly protested his 
 innocence. Nellie, broken-hearted at this revelation, fell weeping 
 into a chair, whilst Benson attempted to console her by picturing 
 her immense wealth and what she could accomplish with the un- 
 bounded power it conferred. She listened intently, and starting to 
 her feet declared her purpose to devote herself and fortune to the 
 vindication of Tom's good name and the proof of his innocence. At 
 this unexpected denouement Benson was filled with baffled rage. 
 The detective looked surprised, and Jim stared from one to the other 
 in open-mouthed wonder. Tom, falling on his knees with clasped 
 hands, thanked heaven that Nellie was true, and Biddy expressed 
 her satisfaction with true Milesian exuberance. 
 
 A year hatd passed since the events recorded in the last chapter, 
 and Nellie had been installed under the guardianship of her cousin, 
 George Benson, in her grandfather's old mansion on Broadway, 
 with no other companion than the faithful Biddy, whom she 
 had insisted should accompany her. Of her guardian she 
 saw but little, for he had taken to gambling heavily in stocks on 
 Wall Street, and had grown morose and gloomy under his losses. 
 His moody temper made little impression upon his ward, as she bad 
 grown heartily to dislike him; she avoided him even when be was in 
 the house, so that days sometimes passed without their meeting. She 
 was not idle, however, and had not forgotten her pledge of fidelity 
 to poor Tom, who was serving out his unexpired sentence at Black- 
 well's. His restoration to freedom, and the vindication of his name 
 had been her sole thought since they parted, and she and Biddy 
 talked of him incessantly. She had for some time been in negotia- 
 tion with Arkwright, the detective, who had become convinced that 
 wrong had been done in some way, and had enlisted all his energies 
 to assist Nellie in her task of clearing her lover. He had discovered 
 that Nathans could throw some light upon the subject, but the wary 
 Israelite was cunning and cautious. He demanded a large sum as the 
 price of his revelations, but would give no assurance that those disclos- 
 ures would fully exculpate Cooper. The detective had various clandes- 
 tine meetings with Nellie on the subject, while Biddy kept watch 
 that they might not be interrupted by Benson, whose suspicions they 
 did not wish to excite. Nellie ordered Arkwright to pay Nathans 
 whatever he demanded, but to obtain his evidence at any cost. 
 While engaged in this discussion, they were warned by Biddy that 
 Benson was returning, and Arkwright barely had time to conceal 
 himself on the kitchen stairs, while Nellie retired to her room. Ben- 
 son returned in a terribly ill humor, and the cause was soon per- 
 ceived, as he feverishly scanned the columns of the Evening Tele- 
 gram, and read therein an article announcing the second escape of 
 Cooper from Blackwell's. Whilst Cooper was at liberty, he knew 
 
14 SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY. 
 
 he had everything to fear. Harrassed by his losses on Wall Street and 
 at the gaming table, he saw ruin before him with Nellie's approach- 
 ing majority, when he would be compelled to render up an account 
 of his stewardship. He had endeavored to win her favor, in the hope 
 that if he could persuade her to a marriage and could thus balance 
 his accounts as her guardian, but he only succeeded in securing the 
 girPs aversion, for she repulsed all his advances with scorn. Baffled 
 in this hope, he gambled more desperately than ever, but fortune 
 refused to smile on him, and daily he became more deeply involved. 
 He found Biddy waiting for him to open the iron vault safe, which 
 was built in the wall, and which formerly served to protect the valu- 
 ables of the bank, but since the discontinuance of business had been 
 used as a receptacle for the family plate which was in daily use. 
 While thus engaged, she entertained him by relating a ghostly ex- 
 perience of the previous night, in which she declared that Nellie's 
 mother appeared to her and reminded her of her promise to watch 
 over and protect her child. Benson laughed at her superstitious' 
 fears, but was nevertheless troubled by them. Just at this moment 
 the door bell rang, and Biddy admitted Nathans, who by* his manner 
 clearly convinced Benson that he was on business of unusual impor- 
 tance. Not wishing to be overheard, Benson took him up to the 
 drawing-room, leaving Biddy still storing the plate away. Jim Far- 
 ren, who is Biddy's cousin, had called to see her, and she had been 
 giving him some supper in the kitchen, but he growing impatient at 
 her long absence sneaked up stairs, and peeping into the room saw 
 how she was occupied. His cupidity was excited by the sight of the 
 massive old plate, and he endeavored to get a further insight into the 
 contents of the vault. Biddy, who had no faith in his honor or hon- 
 esty, repulsed him, and he jestingly pretended to shut her in the vault, 
 to her great terror, as she knew it shut with a spring, and feared lest 
 she could not get out again. Jim seized the opportunity to purloin 
 the key, with an eye to future professional operations, and Biddy 
 succeeded in driving him back to the kitchen, just as Benson and 
 Nathans returned from the drawing-room and re-entered the .office. 
 Benson testily dismissed Biddy for the night and she disappeared 
 down the kitchen stairs, in order to get Jim out of the house. As 
 she departed a female figure, all in white, was seen noiselessly glid- 
 ing down the stairs, and going to the closed door of the office she 
 listened intently. It was Nellie, who had been on the watch above. 
 A stormy discussion took place between Benson and Nathans, in 
 which the former unsuccessfully attempted to resist the latter's extor- 
 tions, but finally submitted to them. Nathans announced that he 
 had been approached, to tell all he knew concerning Tom's incarcer- 
 ation and the causes that led to it, and intimated that pecuniarily he 
 could drive a much better bargain with the other party, but friend- 
 ship induced him to give the preference to Benson. Benson, seeing 
 that he was in the toils, drew a cheque for the amount demanded by 
 Nathans, and that worthy withdrew after bidding his host good-night. 
 As Benson returned to the room, after showing Nathans out and 
 locking the front door, he was confronted by Nellie, who told him 
 that she had heard all, and would denounce his villainy. Benson. 
 
SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY. 15 
 
 endeavored by persuasion and threats to dissuade her from giving 
 him up to justice. She refused, and her refusal exasperated him be- 
 yond all control. He attempted to seize her and she evaded him, 
 overturning the light in her endeavor to escape, and the room was 
 left in total darkness; she reached the door but Benson had already 
 locked it. She then groped her way by means of the wall to the 
 window, which was heavily curtained; as she pulled the curtains 
 aside the moonlight streamed in and revealed her to Benson, who, 
 rushing upon her, threw his overcoat over her head and forced her 
 back almost smothered into the vault, then closed the door, which 
 shut with the quick snap of a spring. He felt for the key, it was 
 gone; a cold perspiration broke out upon his forehead and he trem- 
 bled in every limb as he sought eagerly on the floor for it, thinking 
 it had fallen out. He had gone too far now to retreat, and in a short 
 time the unhappy girl would die of suffocation in the vault, which 
 was entirely without ventilation. But the key he must have for his 
 own protection, and he sought eagerly for it on the floor. While 
 thus engaged, Biddy was seen hurriedly descending the stair case. 
 She rapped impatiently at the closed door, and Benson starte d with 
 all the consciousness of detected guilt. He demanded her errand. 
 She was in great alarm, and came to announce to him that Nellie 
 was nowhere in the house. Benson, anxious to gain time and get her 
 out of the way, readily yields to her suggestion to go to the police 
 station and give the alarm that his ward has been abducted. Biddy 
 hastened on her mission, but ere she went cautioned Benson to look 
 after the fire which she had left burning in the kitchen. Her words 
 and caution suggested the idea to Benson to fire the house and thus 
 conceal his crime, and get rid of Nellie as well. The room below 
 the office was an old lumber room, which had been used to store the 
 archives of the bank in its prosperous days, and was filled with old 
 papers. Benson hastily improvised a torch with an old newspaper, 
 and throwing open the trap door descended into the room below. 
 After a moment's pause, a light appeared at the window at back of 
 room and Jim Farren appeared armed with a bull's eye lantern to 
 carry out his intention of burglarizing the safe. He applied the key, 
 the door swung open, and he was appalled to see standing in the 
 narrow door-way a figure all in white, the exact counterpart of the 
 ghost described by Biddy. To Jim's startled senses it seemed the 
 same, and he crawled under the table in abject terror. Helen 
 staggered forward a few steps and fell fainting on the floor, but after 
 a moment slowly recovered, and seeing the reflection of the fire from 
 the room below realized her peril, and rushed to the street door to 
 make her escape, crying help ! as she did so. The noise attracted 
 Benson's attention and he quickly came up the trap, and seeing that 
 she had escaped seized his revolver which he had left on the table 
 and fired at her as she stood at the door, which she vainly endeav- 
 ored to open, as he had locked it to prevent intrusion after Biddy's 
 exit. Startled at the shot, she turned and quickly fled up the stairs, 
 pursued hf Benson. Jim, who had seen and heard all, scrambled 
 from under the table and was making his way to the window, when 
 he, was confronted by Tom Cooper, who had made his way after his 
 
 r 
 
16 SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY. 
 
 escape to the house, in the hope of seeing Nellie. A hurried ex- 
 planation took place between them, and they too darted up the stairs 
 in pursuit. Nellie's cries were heard, and an occasional shot from the 
 revolver. She appeared at the second-story window for a moment, 
 but quickly continued her flight, still pursued by Benson, who, find- 
 ing himself in turn pursued, barricaded the door behind him with 
 heavy furniture. Tom and Jim being unable to remove the obstruc- 
 tion, or break down the door, Jim suggested that Tom should climb 
 the lightning rod on the outside of the house. He attempted to do 
 so, but as he reached the third story Benson looked out of the win- 
 dow and with a heavy blow from the butt end of his revolver nearly 
 felled him to the ground. Jim, however, caught and sustained him 
 until he recovered himself and resumed climbing. He reached the 
 top and climbed upon the roof, just as Helen came out of the scut- 
 tle and fell fainting. She was closely followed by Benson, but be- 
 fore he could harm her he was confronted by Tom, who grappled 
 with him in a death struggle. Tom finally succeeded in hurling 
 Benson upon the roof of the burning building below, through which 
 he crashed down, down to his fiery doom. Tom raised Nellie in his 
 arms as Biddy and Jim came up the scuttle in time to witness her 
 rescue. The dense black smoke from the burning building below 
 them hung like a pall over the scene, but as the flames roared and 
 crackled in that portion of the house which was burning, they lighted 
 up the central group with vivid brightness. No shadows now, but 
 all in startling relief, against the inky midnight sky. There was but 
 a brief moment, as Nellie clung to Tom in the bliss of their re-union 
 even amidst such terrible surroundings, when the necessity for fur- 
 ther efforts for safety became apparent as the flames increased. Their 
 escape by the way they came was impossible, but by this time the alarm 
 had been given, and the engines came thronging to the spot. A 
 ladder was quickly reared against the back wail and a fireman 
 mounted the roof, and Tom bearing Nellie in his strong arms carried 
 her in safety to the ground, while Jim and the gallant member of 
 the fire department assisted Biddy to descend in the same way. 
 There is but little more to add. Tom's innocence was easily estab- 
 lished, as Abe Nathans, after the death of his patron, and the knowl- 
 edge that Nellie already knew their secret, was suddenly seized with 
 a virtuous impulse to rerjair former injustice, and Tom was speedily 
 a free man, with name and fame re-established. Nellie having ful- 
 filled one pledge was not long in fulfilling the other, and made Tom 
 the happiest husband in New York. We will not say that no clouds 
 ever obscured their joint lives again, for 
 
 *' Iuto each life some rain must fall, 
 Some days be dark and dreary." 
 But they were singularly exempt, and passed a happy and honored 
 existence henceforward, even amidst the 
 
 Shadows of a Great City. 
 
TO B^ PRODUCED 
 
 The Following 1 Cast: 
 
 Tom Cooper Frederic Paulding. 
 
 George Benson O. H. Bar. 
 
 A. Nathans, (a pawn broker) W. W. Allen. 
 
 Abelis, (his clerk) . James Percy. * 
 
 Jim Fairen George Edson . 
 
 Arkwright, (a detective) W. Burton. 
 
 Dorney, (a policeman) W. A. Paul. 
 
 Hammond, " Geo. Lynch. 
 
 Grouch, " Walter Barry. 
 
 Biggs * Harry Ward. 
 
 Dr. Swift Williai; 
 
 Annie Standish Hiss Helen Tracy. 
 
 Helen Standish Miss Adel Belgard. 
 
 Biddy Nolan Miss Annie Yeamans 
 
 Mrs. Higgins V Miss Mary Cook. 
 
 Little Nellie Little Fannie. 
 
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