CHAPTER I.

THE PROFESSOR OF RELIGION.

MONSON P. TRACY was a self-made man, and he had perfect confidence in himself. His own opinions, and his own judgment, were the only laws to which he succumbed. Those who honestly differed from him, he pronounced bigoted, self-willed. And where the difference referred to personal subjects, he called his opponents blind and prejudiced, treating them with a contempt intended to crush them.

Monson P. Tracy was, I am sorry to say, a man of not more than moderate abilities. He was addicted to hobbies, and some of these, to the relief of by-standers, he rode to death. He was a man of unbounded ambition. Believing himself entirely competent to fill any office his country had to offer, he was not backward in presenting his claims, and urging them on the unappreciating public.

Monson P. Tracy professed himself a Christian. He owned a slip in the popular church edifice near him, and might usually be seen in it on the morning of the Lord's day. He said a form of grace at table, and read a form of prayer afterward. By these means he intended to impress those about him with the fervor of his devotion, but in this he cheated few beside himself.

In an old-fashioned book which he seldom opened, there was a maxim: "By their fruits ye shall know them." This touchstone applied by others, rendered a verdict widely different from the one he so lovingly hugged to his own breast. But time will show us which verdict was correct.

If there was one thing which particularly pleased Mr. Tracy, it was to see his name in print. To give the man full justice, he was active, industrious, and energetic. Few men could work more skilfully to attain an end. And all his powers were brought into play to bring about so desirable a result, as seeing his name in capital letters at the head of a column in the newspaper.

Let me take advantage of an auspicious moment of this nature, to introduce him more fully to my readers.

He was sitting in a luxurious arm-chair, by far the most comfortable which the room contained, with the drop-light nicely shaded by a porcelain screen exactly the right distance from his eyes, a pleasant smile on his well-formed mouth, reading from the evening Journal.

His wife, a meek little woman, in a low chair on the other side of the table, had a stocking stretched over her hand, and was gazing rather dismally at a large hole in the toe, when he thus addressed her:

"There is an article here, Mrs. Tracy, which you will be interested to read."

"I seldom read the newspapers," was the indifferent reply. "I haven't time."

"But you will read this. I repeat, that it will interest you."

The tone was decisive, though a smile still curled his lips.

After an anxious search for thread of the right size, Mrs. Tracy realized that her husband had addressed her, and was awaiting a reply. She glanced in his face, and saw a heavy shade about to settle on his brow, so she quickly asked:

"What is it? Anything about you?"

"It is the report of my speech at the Convention. The editor does himself credit, in his way of printing those reports. See!"

He held the paper toward her, swinging the drop-light in her direction, while she read:

"Speech of Monson P. Tracy before the — Convention. Received by a crowded audience, with loud and repeated applause."

The small, hazel eyes of the lady glistened as she read; her ball of cotton fell from her lap unheeded.

"Oh, how nice! How pleasant! How proud I am to be the wife of a man whom every body praises!"

"Yes, Mrs. Tracy, it is pleasant, I acknowledge it. It is agreeable to feel that my efforts for the welfare of my fellow creatures are appreciated. In my pocket you will find a dozen copies of this report. I wish that you would see them folded and directed to the gentlemen whose names are on this list. It will be a pleasant work for you."

"Will it be necessary to direct them this evening, Mr. Tracy? My mending is sadly behind this week."

"An hour, after I have retired, will be sufficient for the business."

He was turning back to the paper with a smile, when thinking it would be a suitable opportunity, she touched on a new theme.

"I shall need a little money for family expenses."

The smile quickly vanished as he asked curtly:

"How much?"

"Ten dollars will do, though I ought to have more. Sarah Barrows has been here to-day with her bill. She says her mother is sick and needs medicine."

"Pshaw! That is only an excuse! She must wait my convenience. Here are ten dollars. Make them go as far as possible. Our expenses were never so heavy."

The next morning as Mrs. Tracy was pouring her husband a cup of coffee she asked:

"Did you notice in the paper the death of Mr. Edmond. I saw it as I was directing the Journals you left last night."

"No," he answered with a start of surprise. His face paled a little, for memories of the past came rushing over him. Without interrupting his breakfast, he exclaimed presently. "So he's gone! I wonder what he's done with all his property!"

A ring at the door-bell prevented an answer, if he expected any, and a boy from the telegram office was admitted by the servant.

"Please, sir, this came two days ago; and, on account of the direction not being distinct it was sent to Miles Tracy Esq., in the country; and now it's come back to us again."

The gentleman seized the narrow slip of paper and read eagerly:

"Father is dying. Wants to see you. Carriage at depot to meet you this evening.

"FRANCIS J. EDMOND."

Mr. Tracy turned upon the messenger with an angry scowl. "Your office ought to be fined heavily for such mistakes. Here is a dying man sends for me on business of the last importance; a carriage sent a mile to convoy me to his house; and I not there. It may be a loss to me of—well more than you can imagine."

"Will you please sign your name, sir?" ventured the boy, timidly extending the book.

"No, not I! You may tell your master I am exceedingly displeased."

"Here, boy, I'll sign it," said Mrs. Tracy following the messenger to the door, "only it's a terrible pity there was such a mistake."

"I wish you would pack my carpetbag," remarked the merchant. "I shall start for Maytown in the eleven train."

Mr. Tracy having finished his breakfast, and re-read the telegram, started up, and began to make preparations to go to his store as usual.

"Shall you have time to order the dinner from the stall?" asked his wife anxiously.

"Scarcely. I shall be away, you know. You had better get along with what you have in the house. I can't help wondering what Mr. Edmond wanted to see me for."

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