n of "decay's effacing fingers," began again,
through the agency of the Hammersley wealth, to resemble the structure
once occupied by that tyrant of royalty, the imperious Sarah Jennings.

Very little seemed to be known about Louis Hammersley, as he lived a
retired life, and when seen in public was almost invariably accompanied
by his father, Gordon Hammersley. When the two appeared upon the street,
they were sometimes facetiously dubbed "Dombey and Son." They were
familiar figures on Broadway, where they invariably walked arm in arm.
John Hammersley, a brother of Gordon, was the aesthetic member of this
well-known family. One of his pet diversions was the giving of unusual,
and sometimes sensational, dinners. To celebrate the completion of the
trans-continental railroad, he planned what he called a Roman dinner.
His guests were furnished with togas and partook of the meal in a
reclining position, like the Romans of old. This unique entertainment
was, of course, thoroughly enjoyed, but did not become _a la mode_ as
the flowing toga could hardly compete with trim waistcoats and clinging
trousers, even on festive occasions.

Fifty years ago, more or less, a house was erected in New York on the
southwest corner of Fifth Avenue and Fifteenth Street by Mrs. Charles
Maverick Parker, and, to the astonishment of Gothamites, it was said to
have cost one hundred thousand dollars! Later it became the home of the
Manhattan Club. Many old residents visited it on its completion, as such
a costly structure was regarded with nothing short of amazement. I
remember it was an _on dit_ of the town that upon one occasion, when
Mrs. Parker was personally escorting some unusually prominent person
through the mansion, she pointed to a pretty little receptacle in her
bedroom and exclaimed as she passed: "That is where I keep my old shoes.
I wear old shoes just as other people do." The cost and pretentiousness
of her establishment caused her to be nicknamed "Mrs. House Parker." Her
residence was built of brown stone, which so strongly appealed to the
taste of New Yorkers that in time the same material was largely employed
in the erection of dwellings. High ceilings were then much in vogue and
were greatly admired. In our house in Houston Street, where I passed my
late childhood and early womanhood, the ceilings were unusually high,
while all of the doors were of massive mahogany set in ornamental white
frames. In subsequent years I met so many p