" for which Kennedy had arranged. His
ward went Democratic, as was a foregone conclusion, but by an unusually
large majority, and Peter found that he and Dennis were given the credit
for it, both in the ward, and at headquarters. Catlin was elected, and
the Assembly had been won. So Peter felt that his three months' work had
not been an entire failure. The proceeds of his speeches had added also
two hundred and fifty dollars to his savings bank account, and one
hundred more to the account of "Peter Stirling, Trustee."

CHAPTER XXV.

VARIOUS KINDS OF SOCIETY.

Peter spent Christmas with his mother, and found her very much worried
over his "salooning."

"It's first steps, Peter, that do the mischief," she told him.

"But, mother, I only go to talk with the men. Not to drink."

"You'll come to that later. The devil's paths always start straight, my
boy, but they end in wickedness. Promise me you won't go any more."

"I can't do that, mother. I am trying to help the men, and you ought not
ask me to stop doing what may aid others."

"Oh, my boy, my boy!" sobbed the mother.

"If you could only understand it, mother, as I have come to, you
wouldn't mind. Here, the saloon is chiefly a loafing place for the lazy
and shiftless, but in New York, it's very different. It's the poor man's
club. If you could see the dark, cold, foul-aired tenements where they
live, and then the bright, warm, cheerful saloons, that are open to all,
you would see that it isn't the drink that draws the men. I even wish
the women could come. The bulk of the men are temperate, and only take a
glass or two of beer or whisky, to pay for their welcome. They really go
for the social part, and sit and talk, or read the papers. Of course a
man gets drunk, sometimes, but usually it is not a regular customer, and
even such cases would be fewer, it we didn't tax whisky so outrageously
that the dishonest barkeepers are tempted to doctor their whisky with
drugs which drive men frantic if they drink. But most of the men are too
sensible, and too poor, to drink so as really to harm themselves."

"Peter, Peter! To think that three years in New York should bring you to
talk so! I knew New York was a sink-hole of iniquity, but I thought you
were too good a boy to be misled."

"Mother, New York has less evil in it than most places. Here, after the
mills shut down, there's no recreation for the men, and so they amuse
themselves with viciousness. But in a