them to go through the process of a "thorough clean up," and the substitution of winter for summer furniture, their lodgings will be again filled, and this time by a class of tenant, rich, valetudinarian, and certain to remain for many weeks. This interval, however, though made much of by those who take advantage of it for the perform ance of necessary labour, is generally voted desperately dull by the better class of inhabitants, most of whom try to make their escape to more congenial places. Sir Geoffry, in particular, very much resented the state of affairs at this dull season of the year. Most of his club cronies were away; it was next to impossible to get up a rubber; and even the few friends admitted to the intimacy of Wheatcroft, were among the defaulters. Cleethorpe was shooting in Scotland, and Mr. Drage had gone over to attend a church congress, which was being held at Bircester. Sir Geoffry could have put up with all of this if Mrs. Pickering had been at home to talk with and read to him, but she had asked for a few days' holiday, and of course he had not dreamed of refusing her. The instant she was gone, the old general felt her loss. There was a letter from Irving a long letter-full of business, which he would have liked to submit to her consideration, and in which he would not stir without her advice. He had grown accustomed to consult his housekeeper in almost everything, and to place great reliance on her judgment. "A wonderful woman, sir!" Sir Geoffry said of Mrs. Pickering to his friend Cleethorpe, just before the gallant captain started for his shooting-box in the Highlands. "A wonderful woman! Most wo men have a knack of hitting the right nail on the head, but this they do by accident, by intuition, as it is called, and can never tell you why! Now, Mrs. Pickering is always right, and can always give you her reason for being so. You did me an immense service, sir, when you persuaded that lady to undertake the management of my household.” But Mrs. Pickering was gone, and had taken her judgment with her, and Sir Geoffry was left alone, to use strong language at his loneliness and the dreariness of his house, and to render the lives of his servants almost insupportable, by the variety of his orders and the caprices of his querulous temper. On the second night after Madge's departure, just at the time that she was entering the grounds at Hollycombe, Sir | Geoffry was seated at the window of the dining-room, looking out into the garden, and wondering what he should do if chance ever removed Mrs. Pickering from his service. The mere idea of such a contingency made him hot with vexation; it was not like the same place without her, and nothing seemed to go on rightly in her absence. "And yet," said the old general to himself, "and yet I'm likely to lose her at any moment. She's a young woman still, and a handsome woman, and attractive in every way, and is certain to be picked up sooner or later. If I were a younger man myself I should be too glad of such a wife; and of course there are hundreds who have the same idea. Perhaps at this very moment there is some confounded fellow talking to her, and making up his mind that he'll ask her to marry him. What's that?" He started, and, shading his eyes with his hand, peered out into the gloaming. "I could have sworn I saw a figure," he said, turning back into the room, "but there is nothing there. I'm nervous tonight, and shall set the doctor's warning at defiance, and take a glass or two of port. Absurd to think that a man of my figure, without any hereditary tendency to gout, should He stopped, attracted by the noise made by the opening of the door, and looked in that direction. He saw the door open, and a man's figure enter the room and advance quickly towards him. instant the old general thought he was attacked, and his hand closed upon the neck of the decanter he was lifting from the sideboard, as his handiest weapon of defence. The figure, however, stood upright and motionless before him. As far as he could make out in the dull uncertain light it was that of a tall, well-knit young man, with a full and flowing beard. Sir Geoffry eyed it for a moment in silence, then he said: "Who are you, and what is your business here, sir ?" "I want to see you,' was the reply; but no sooner did the old general hear the tones of the voice from which it was attered, than he relaxed his hold of the decanter, and stepping a pace forward, waved his hand toward the door. "I know you now!" he cried, in loud and angry tones; "I cannot discern your features, but I recognise your voice! How dare you insult me by your presence? Leave the house at once!" "Father," said the young man, submissively. "I have forbidden you ever to use that word to me,' cried Sir Geoffry. "To what am I indebted, sir, for the honour of this visit? The last time I saw you, you were full of your great career, and swaggered about not touching the money which was your due. I presume that delusion is at an end, and that you have come to claim your rights ?" "I have," said Gerald, "but not in the way that you imagine. I have come to claim my right to be regarded as your son; my mother's right to atonement for the grievous wrong you did to her while living, and which you have continued to her memory! Oh, sir, I told you I would make it the business of my life to discover the real story of Mr. Yeldham's acquaintmy mother, and to prove to you that your jealous fears of her were groundless. I can prove all this to you now; I ance with have come here to do so!" "It is a lie!" cried the old man, stretching out his hands, and trembling with passion. "You have come here because your funds are exhausted, and your creditors refuse to trust you further! You can have the money, sir; it is yours by right; there is no occasion for you to descend to such paltry subterfuge.' "Father, I implore" "I insist, sir, upon your discontinuing to address me in that manner," said the old man, ringing the bell. "Make your application to me in a business way, through a lawyer, and it shall be attended to. Riley!" he cried to the servant, who appeared at the door, "what were you doing to permit this person to make his way into my presence? Show him out instantly, and never give him admittance here again." Gerald looked as if he would have spoken, but the old servant touched him on the shoulder, and sorrowfully preceded him out of the room. TAMMANY CHIEFS. THE city of New York at this moment is the scene of a remarkable struggle between the people and what was a few short months ago the strongest, and most absolutely irresponsible government in the world. The great and sumptuous city, spreading its wealth over the heights of Brooklyn and the marshes of New Jersey, grasping in its rich embrace the opposite shores of the rivers which enclose the famous island of Manhattan, has been for years prostrate at the feet of a municipal government, despotic as the Venetian oligarchy, mysterious as the Vehmgericht, corrupt as the College of Cardinals in the worst days of papal misrule. Deriving its power from the immediate suffrages of the sovereign people, submitting every autumn at the elections either for the mayoralty, shrievalty, commissionerships, or judgeships, its party ticket to the approval of the public, invariably victorious over all its enemies by such overwhelming majorities as to render opposition almost ridiculous, the city government apparently contained all the elements of solidity and permanence. It is true that an intelligent minority existed, but the intelligence, wealth, and respectability of the great city has ever shown itself lamentably apathetic on municipal and, indeed, on all political questions. During a long residence in New York, the writer was often astonished at the constant and utter indifference to every subject of local administration displayed by the prominent citizens and great merchants. The answer invariably vouchsafed to all his queries was, "The whole thing was a dirty business-too filthy for a gentleman to touch; far better to let things alone, bad as they were!" "You see," continued a thoroughly representative New Yorker, "the rascals who are in power now are gorged with plunder; they have the most palatial residences, the most gorgeous furniture. They drive the fastest horses, smoke the largest cigars, drink the dearest brands of wine, wear the biggest diamonds on the dirtiest hands, and eat-with their knives-the best dinners in the city. They have every temptation (though I admit they very seldom yield to it) to act decently, and rob moderately, and we must admit that what they steal with one hand they scatter freely with the other. Now, suppose for one moment that we were rid of these, and a fresh lot came into power, the new men would all be like greedy cormorants. They would have everything to get, do you see? whereas our present scoundrels have got it all. I guess we should only change the whips of Tammany for the scorpions of a new and famished crowd." This gentleman by no means stood alone in his sentiments, and his remarks may be taken as a very fair expression of the prevailing opinion of what the Americans are pleased to call Uppertendom. The strong interest in local politics which forms so large a portion of every-day life in England, appeared to be utterly lost in a sensation of total and complete helplessness. "What is the use of my voting at all?" said a graduate of Harvard, "when the last wild Irishman-imported, perhaps, not more than a month ago, and duly invested with all the rights of citizenship by fraudulent naturalisation papers-can walk down to the polls and neutralise my vote? It is of no use, sir. The educated classes in this city do not stand a chance against the illiterate mass of adopted citizens; they just hang together and carry everything before them, so that a white man, unless he can boast an O or a Mac in front of his name, has no more chance of occupying the smallest position than a nigger." The wide prevalence of such doctrines as these, and the complete lapse of Uppertendom into pococurantism, bore the fruit that might have been expected, and the whole patronage of the city, and the entire administration of the city revenues, fell into the hands of the remarkable institution holding its head-quarters at Tammany Hall. The hall, a huge building surmounted by a stone effigy of a colossal Indian, is situate in Fourteenth-street, in the very centre of New York, and here the chiefs of Tammany were wont to meet and decide on the campaign tactics of the democratic party. It may, perhaps, be well to remind the English reader that the democratic is the conservative party in America, as opposed to the republican, black republican, or abolitionist party, now victorious so far as the central government of the United States is concerned. The democrats, however, have in many cases retained great local power, and are distinguished by their steady adherence to the old-fashioned doctrine of federalism, and the steady maintenance of the obsolete principle of states' rights, a theory propounding the absolute independence and separate sovereignty of each individual state. These doctrines were pretty well knocked on the head during the "late misunderstanding," as the great American war is sometimes designated, but they are still fondly cherished in the democratic bosom, and in few parts of America have the democrats so long held the reins of power as in the city of New York. gifted with a finer natural taste for drinking and fighting than for work, he, in course of time, becomes drafted into the ranks of the "shoulder-hitters" and "repeaters," or, in plain English, of those gentry who carry to a sublime point their obedience to the precept, "Vote early, and vote often," and, voting themselves in half a dozen different wards during the day, by their ruffianly demeanour very effectually deter more peaceful citizens from recording their votes at all. To these may be added the army of roughs, generally the keepers of low ginshops, gaming-houses, and the professional thieves, their friends, admirers, and accomplices. The latter, during the leisure hours they can spare from the exercise of their regular profession, devote themselves vigorously to the pursuit of politics and whisky, and many a rascal owes his escape from justice to the partial feeling of a judge, in whose election the thief or some of his friends had taken a prominent part. Inquiring one day of a worthy merchant, a man of substance, if he knew anything of a sprightly young fellow, who appeared to know everybody, this gentleman gave me the following astounding reply: "Don't know exactly-guess he is a gambler or a politician!" The order wherein the several professions were named, gives a correct idea of the public feeling towards the two classes of adventurers. A certain amount of chivalry is very absurdly supposed to attach to the "sport" or gambler by profession; his duties are arduous, his expenses enormous, he is frequently a large speculator in stocks and real estate, and from a hail-fellow-well-met point of view, is considered a better sort of fellow than a "one-horse" politician. The more fashionable dress and more polished manners of the "sport," also help to maintain his superiority; he often happens to have been, at some remote period, a gentleman, and, although often "broke," and very much "shattered" in health and reputation, he still retains some slight traces of his old mode of life; while the rising politician is often that most unhappy of wretches, a "cad," trying his best to appear This party is in no slight degree in- a gentleman, and finding the purple and fine debted for the continuance of its power to linen of newly acquired wealth and imthe ever-increasing element of Irish immi-portance sit as ill on him as did the mantle gration. Every Hibernian is almost, im- in the old ballad on the shoulders of those mediately on his arrival, pounced upon by dames whose reputation was not above "the boys," christened a good democrat, scandal. and made, by hook or by crock, a naturalised citizen at once. Should the youth be The low estimate accorded to their craft by the public, is not unfrequently a matter of jest among the politicians themselves. A short time since two of these worthies were dining together at the Hoffmann House, when, one wishing to "take a rise" out of his friend, began: "Say, Tom, what have you been doing to the press? These fellows are calling you more names than would fill a dictionary!" "Oh!" replied the other, "I don't mind; in fact, rather like it! Why only the other day one of the papers compared me to Judas Iscariot" (Eye-scariot he pronounced it), "but I didn't mind !" "No," rejoined his friend, kindly; "you didn't mind, of course, but-but how about Judas ?" The fashionable season of New York extends from November to Lent, and during this period a vast number of public balls on a huge scale are organised on various pretences. The Charity Ball, where two years ago Prince Arthur was the centre of attraction, is by far the most fashionable public ball of the season, and the élite of the city fail not to muster in great force; bright gems and brighter eyes may be counted, not in hundreds but in thousands. Next perhaps in importance is the ball of the Americus Club, an institution of the Tammany "stripe" of politics. At this monster gathering the display of diamonds is perfectly marvellous, the extravagant toilets provoke remark even in the city of extravagant expenditure, and among the most prominent guests are, or were, the chiefs of Tammany. At the outset of life a chair-maker on no very ambitious scale, nursed in the old volunteer fire department, an intensely political and slightly rowdy organisation, step by step from foreman of his engine onward and ever onward, higher and still higher, by ways straight or crooked, unaided except by his own quiet determination and iron will, has this man climbed to his present position. Ostensibly a mere commissioner of works, but really a civic Warwick—a municipal king-maker-he sets up and pulls down mayors, chamberlains, comptrollers, collectors. Ever near the great sun of the Tammany system is the quiet and unobtrusive man who enjoys the reputation of supplying intellect to the ruling body. This new Carnot, rejoicing in the initials of Peter B., is dubbed by his friends and foes-Peter Bismarck or Peter Brains Sweeny. He is the great initiator of the policy of pseudo-purity, bogus liberality, and judicious disinterestedness. He is ever preaching to his more voracious colleagues one invariable doctrine, "Gentleman, we must disgorge." Throwing a sop to Cerberus has ever been his leading idea, and when city chamberlain, he at once turned over to the city treasury a huge amount of interest invariably engulfed by preceding chamberlains. His policy was a sound one, and it redounds somewhat to his credit, that, having "got" enough, he was prepared to "run straight" if the rest of the Ring would have allowed him to do so. Chatting to to a bevy of fashionablydressed ladies stands Slippery Dick, one of the most popular and best-abused men in Gotham. Slippery or not, Dick has managed to accumulate a huge fortune, and knows right well how to enjoy it. Very late in arrival, and very early in departure; last in the battle, and first in the retreat; is a slender, dapper-looking gentleman, happy in the possession of an elegantly trimmed beard, and taking pride in the "nice conduct" of an eye-glass. His step is light and springy, his hand ever ready to greet his innumerable friends; he is admirably "fixed" in the bluest of blue "clawhammer” coats, the whitest of vests, and the brightest of all possible brass buttons. This buttons. With jaunty self-possession, with bright glance overflowing with genial good humour, he moves briskly among the throng, feeling quite at home, and why not? for he is, municipally speaking, the " biggest man" there, and rules, or rather seems to rule, the city according to his own good pleasure. Ŏriginally a smart lawyer, then Conspicuous among these is a largely framed man, "with brawny shoulders four foot square;" huge, heavy-looking, but muscular withal; of ungainly aspect as to his limbs, labouring under an unfortunate incapability of finding gloves large enough, or boots creaseless enough, to encompass his vast extremities, but exulting in a deep chest heaving beneath a snowy expanse of linen decorated with an immense diamond solitaire. Surmounting this ungainly body is a massive head crowned with grizzled locks. From beneath a pair of bushy eyebrows gleam bright but sunken eyes, while a heavy beard, streaked with silver, conceals the massive jaw and determined chin. This man is indeed a man of mark, the object of many greetings and hand- shakings, friendly and servile, for he is a leader of men; his word is law, his smile is wealth, his frown ruin; he is the great chief, the Grand Sachem of Tammany, the Boss of the Ring. combining that profession with the ardent pursuit of politics and occasional excursions into the realms of literature, pleading causes, addressing "fellow-citizens," and editing the New York Leader by turns, he has made his way with very tolerable rapidity to the highest municipal position attainable. Like Warren Hastings and other great men, the mayor of New York is addicted to the composition of feeble verses; but what is this one small speck upon the face of an "ancillary planet ?" The city judges, some of whom correspond in position with our stipendiary magistrates, are in great force. One genial gentleman is accused on all hands of being kept by the managers or mismanagers of the Erie Railway; near him, gossiping with the gayest group in the house, is the plucky little judge, "Gunny," who has earned immense renown by actually daring to inflict severe sentences on several prominent malefactors. The mere fact of a judge being praised to the skies for doing his simple duty, affords a singular comment on the general administration of justice. Imagine Sir Thomas Henry being complimented in the Times, and compared to Chief Justice Gascoigne, for daring to commit Mr. William Sikes for trial! Talking in a low tone, and earnestly, to the "Thunderbolt" of the Sixth Ward, a mountain of a man, resplendent in new broadcloth, broad smiles, and the inevitable diamonds, is a tall handsome man, not only better-looking, but more gentleman-like than most of the greater chiefs. He was formerly-but a few years ago-a clerk in the house of A. T. Stewart, but plunging into the sea of politics his talents have brought him to the top of the wave. Enthusiastic admirers predict his certain election at the next contest for the mayoralty. But there is a buzz of excitement. Mrs. Mushroom's diamonds have just arrived. Every one is excited to a violent pitch; all crowd to obtain a glimpse of the diamonds. Mrs. Mushroom arrives leaning on her husband's arm. She is a showy-looking lady, with a great deal of fair hair more or less authentic. Her toilet is a marvel; heavy satins and priceless laces struggle for preeminence; her panier is the biggest, her train the longest in the room. But the diamonds-oh, the diamonds! they blaze and glitter, twinkle and dazzle, raising, meanwhile, storms of envy, hatred, malice, and uncharitableness in the bosoms of fair spectators. One of these last whispers confidentially: "She is heavy on diamonds now, but Mushroom once kept a gambling-house in 'Frisco, and has committed, I guess, about every crime that wasn't out of his reach." Such is the rage of the celestial soul of woman at the sight of unattainable jewels. There is only one slight drawback to these gigantic balls; it is clearly impossible to dance, unless a waltz on the area of an ordinary chess-board can be denominated dancing. But many who come to dance remain to drink, and at one of these balls my evil star led me among a knot of wellknown politicians. These were men known to everybody in New York, men whom every one called by their Christian names. Of course the champagne flowed freely: it always is flowing freely on some pretence or other in Gotham. Equally as a matter of course, every man was formally introduced to all the rest, hands were very profusely shaken, and names went very much in at one ear and out at the other. It was a jolly, an excessively jolly party. Among the lively crowd was one gentleman conspicuous by the bravery of his apparel. Faultlessly, too faultlessly dressed, booted and gloved to perfection, oiled, curled, waxed, and gummed within an inch of his life, he was the very beau ideal of a New York dandy. The diamonds of this Adonis were enormous and his thirst prodigious. Suddenly this thing of beauty asserted his intention of depriving the assembly of the light of his presence. Addressing the little knot of revellers, and noticing some rather noisy proceedings in another corner of the room, Adonis opened his mouth and said with fine aristocratic disdain: "I guess this thing is getting rayther mixed-I shall go." And with many affectionate farewells the elegant hero was suffered to depart. An inquiry touching the identity of the exclusive gentleman elicited the following reply: "You don't know him? I guess you don't know enough to go in-doors when it rains. That's the eminent forger, S., just out on bail!" It may easily be imagined that a society striking its roots so deeply into the slough of the city, and not disdaining even the state prison as a nursery of voters, must be powerful indeed. Marshalled by old tacticians, veterans of many a meeting, men deeply learned in all the mysteries of axegrinding, log - rolling, and wire - pulling, electing the very judges themselves, it is not to be wondered at that the forces of Tammany have so long proved irresistible. As Napoleon held his artillery in his hand, comme un coup de pistolet," as Mr. Seward during the civil war boasted that the |