And a Poor Rich One 9 



yond lard and discounts, he was an important 

 figure in the community. Books, art, music, 

 were nothing to him ; and if a man's name 

 was not a good one to have upon the back of 

 a note, that man was not much to him either. 

 The other day his coachman allowed the reins 

 to slip, the horses ran away, and the rich man, 

 in trying to get out, was killed. 



My personal acquaintance with my rich 

 neighbor was but slight, and of a business 

 character. One June morning, when all Na- 

 ture was rejoicing, it became my duty to look 

 into some complaints made by citizens as to 

 stenches supposed to come from the neighbor- 

 hood of the Hudson River at a point where 

 several slaughter- and rendering-houses were 

 situated in violation of public health and de- 

 cency. I remember particularly that it had 

 been hard work for me, young and strong, 

 fond of out-door work in the sunlight, to leave 

 my pretty Jersey home that morning, to tear 

 myself away from my garden, with its straw- 

 berries in bloom, from the river, upon which 

 my little boat nodded an invitation to sail; to 

 leave my children, clamorous for a day in the 



