270 
THE BED MOUNTAIN OF ALASKA. 
Tiny Tim, as well as cheered by the joyful notes with 
which the Carol ends. 
For some minutes he sat silently surveying the pattern 
on his slippers, and apparently working it out again on 
his own brow. Now, Mr. Broadstreet was not a man to 
act upon impulse. A lawyer in large and profitable prac- 
tice, and a shrewd man of business as well, he was never 
known to do, say, or perhaps even decide, anything with- 
out deliberation. 
"Hold on a bit," he would say to an eager client; 
" softly, softly, my friend, you're too fast for me. Now, 
what did you say was done with the property ? " and so 
on to the end of the story. If there was any money in 
the case, Mr. Broadstreet was pretty sure to draw it out 
for the benefit of his clients, and, remotely of course, 
himself. 
" When I put my hand doion,'' he was fond of remark- 
ing, with significant gesture upon the ofiice desk, 1 never 
take it up again without something in it." 
In the course of his long practice, aided by a series of 
fortunate speculations, he had amassed such a goodly sum 
that his name stood near the head of the list of " Our 
Prominent Tax-Payers." He drove a fine span of horses, 
and was free enough with his money, in a general way. 
That is, when some large philanthropic movement was on 
foot, Alonzo M. Broadstreet, Esq., was pretty sure to be 
down for a round sum. He paid his share in church and 
politics, and annually sent £i check to the Board of Foreign 
