tion remained the essential
of life, whether I was sane or insane. I resolved then and there to
study out a new course. By toiling like a sailor at the pump of a
sinking ship, I had taken advantage to the uttermost of the respite
Galloway's help had given me. My property was no longer in more or
less insecure speculative "securities," but was, as I had told
Langdon, in forms that would withstand the worst shocks. The attacks
of my enemies, directed partly at my fortune, or, rather, at the
stocks in which they imagined it was still invested, and partly at my
personal character, were doing me good instead of harm. Hatred always
forgets that its venomous shafts, falling round its intended victim,
spring up as legions of supporters for him. My business was growing
rapidly; my daily letter to investors was read by hundreds of
thousands where tens of thousands had read it before the
Roebuck-Langdon clique began to make me famous by trying to make me
infamous.

"I am strong and secure," said I to myself as I strode through the
wonderful canyon of Broadway, whose walls are the mighty palaces of
finance and commerce from which business men have been ousted by the
cormorant "captains of industry." I must _use_ my strength. How could
I better use it than by fluttering these vultures on their roosts, and
perhaps bringing down a bird or two?

I decided, however, that it was better to wait until they had stopped
rattling their beaks and claws on my shell in futile attack.
"Meanwhile," I reasoned, "I can be getting good and ready."

TO BE CONTINUED.

A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM

By FRANCIS METCALFE

In the region of South Washington Square there are many ancient
dwellings which have fallen into uses which would make their original
owners, who were the solid men of old New York, turn over in their
narrow vaults in Trinity churchyard if they could know of them. Alien
peoples, swarthy of skin and picturesque of dress, occupy and surround
them, and strange industries are carried on under the roofs which once
sheltered the families of the dignified old Knickerbockers who formed
the aristocracy of the city.

In many of these transformed residences of the wealthy, after climbing
many flights of stairs, whose quaint old mahogany balustrades have
been marred by generations of careless movers, one comes to apartments
which are provided with skylights and northern windows, and these,
being classified as studios, command re