“There is no greater monster in being than a very ill man of great parts, he lives like a man in a palsy, with one side of him dead; while perhaps he enjoys the satisfaction of luxury, of wealth, of ambition, he has lost all the taste of good-will, of friendship, of innocence,” says Addison.

If this can be said of a man whose influence is of limited scope, how much more horrible the “palsy,” the moral stagnation, of the man whose power for good or evil extends to millions of people, to unlimited time; whose influence shall be felt, and shall be shaping the destinies of unborn generations, after he shall be only a ghastly skeleton, a bundle of crumbling bones!

Would that the power, the wisdom, the omniscience of God had not been repudiated, discarded, abolished, by modern thinkers, so that now but few feel any moral checks or dread of responsibility; for if there is to be no final accounting, morality ceases to be a factor, there being no fear of any hereafter; and as a natural sequence, there is no remedy left for the terrible “palsy.” For it is a well demonstrated fact that sense of justice, or pure philanthropy, alone, is but frail reliance. Fatally has man elevated his vanity to be his deity, with egotism for the high priest, and the sole aim and object of life the accumulation of money, with no thought of the never-ending to-morrow, the awakening on the limitless shore! no thought of his fellow-beings here, of himself in the hereafter!

“It is a high, solemn, almost awful thought,” says Carlyle, “for every individual man, that his earthly influence, which has had a commencement, will never, through all ages—were he the very meanest of us—have an end! What is done, is done; has already blended itself with the boundless, ever-living, ever-working universe, and will also work for good or for evil, openly or secretly, throughout all time. The life of every man is as a well-spring of a stream, whose small beginnings are indeed plain to all, but whose ulterior course and destination, as it winds through the expanses of infinite years, only the Omniscient can discern. Will it mingle with neighboring rivulets as a tributary, or receive them as their sovereign? Is it to be a nameless brook, and with its tiny waters, among millions of other brooks and rills, increase the current of some world's river? or is it to be itself a Rhine or a Danube, whose goings forth are to the uttermost lands, its floods an everlasting boundary-line on the globe itself, the bulwark and highway of whole kingdoms and continents? We know not, only, in either case, we know its path is to the great ocean; its waters, were they but a handful, are here, and cannot be annihilated or permanently held back.”

But how many of the influential of the earth think thus? If only the law-givers could be made to reflect more seriously, more conscientiously, upon the effect that their legislation must have on the lives, the destinies, of their fellow-beings forever, there would be much less misery and heart-rending wretchedness in this vale of tears. Now, the law-giver is a politician, who generally thinks more of his own political standing with other politicians than of the interests entrusted to his care. To speak of constituents sounds well, but who are the constituents? The men who govern them, who control votes, those who guide the majorities to the polls; the politicians, who make and unmake each other, they are the power—the rest of the people dream that they are—that's all. And if these law-givers see fit to sell themselves for money, what then? Who has the power to undo what is done? Not their constituents, surely. But the constituencies will be the sufferers, and feel all the effect of pernicious legislation.

These were George Mechlin's thoughts as he sat, with his uncle, in the gallery of the House of Representatives, listening to a debate, a few days after their arrival in Washington. The attention of George, however, was divided between the debate and some papers he held in his hands which a member of Congress had given him. These papers contained several arguments, speeches and petitions, praying Congress to aid in the construction of the Texas Pacific Railroad, thus to help the impoverished South to regain her strength wasted in the war. Among these papers there was one which more particularly arrested his attention. It read as follows:

January 12, 1874.—Referred to the Committee on the Pacific Railroad, and ordered to be printed, together with accompanying papers.

“Whereas, The Central Pacific Railroad Company was incorporated by the State of California on the 27th day of June, A.D. 1861, to construct a railroad to the eastern boundary of said State; and whereas, by Acts of Congress of the years 1862 and 1863, said company was authorized to extend said railroad eastward through the territory of the United States by an Act entitled ‘An Act to aid in the construction of a railroad and telegraph line from the Missouri River to the Pacific Ocean,’ and received from the United States, under said Act and the Acts supplemental thereto and amendatory thereof, and from the State of California and counties and corporations within said State, from the State of Nevada, and from the Territory of Utah, the following amounts, estimated in gold coin, to wit:

And, whereas, the directors of said Central Pacific Railroad Company made contracts with certain of their own members to construct said road, known as the ‘Contract and Finance Company,’ for consideration in lands, money, and bonds, far in excess of the actual cost of construction; and,

Whereas, said Central Pacific Railroad is, and has been, completed and in running order for, in part and in whole, over six years last past, and the profits accruing from same, amounting to over —— millions of dollars per annum, has been kept and appropriated to their own use, in violation of their duties and in fraud of the United States Government; and,

Whereas, said directors of the said Central Pacific Railroad Company issued to themselves, and for their personal profit and benefit, the second mortgage bonds of said Central Pacific Railroad Company, to the amount of $27,387,120, payable in United States gold coin, with interest at ten per cent. per annum, and have, with said profits accruing to the Central Pacific Railroad Company, from the sales of United States bonds, lands, and other subsidies, as aforesaid mentioned, and the issue to themselves of the bonds aforesaid, bought, in order to defraud the Government of the United States out of the interest now due from said Central Pacific Railroad Company, other roads in the State of California, and expended in doing the same, all the accruing profits of said Central Pacific Railroad for the benefit of the directors, failing and fraudulently refusing to pay the Government of the United States, the interest legally due on said mortgage bonds; therefore, be it

Resolved, That a select committee of seven members of this House be appointed by the Speaker, and such committee be and is hereby instructed to inquire whether or not any person connected with the organization or association commonly known as the ‘Contract and Finance Company’ of the Central Pacific Railroad Company, now holds any of the bonds, lands, or other subsidies granted said company, for the payment of which, or the interest thereon, the United States is in any way liable; and whether or not such holders, if any, or their assignees of such bonds, lands, or other subsidies, are holders in good faith, and for a valuable consideration, or procured the same illegally, or by fraud; * * * and to inquire into the character and purpose of such organization, and fully, of all the transactions of said Central Pacific Railroad Company, and all transactions had and contracted by and between the directors of the Central Pacific Railroad Company and Charles Crocker & Co.; and of all transactions and contracts made by said directors with the ‘Contract and Finance Company’ for the furnishing of material of every kind and character whatever, and the construction of the Central Pacific Railroad and other branch roads connected therewith; * * * and to report the facts to this House, together with such bill as may be necessary to protect the interests of the United States Government and the people, on account of any bonds, lands and subsidies of the class hereinbefore referred to, and against the combinations to defraud the Government and the people; and said committee is hereby authorized to send for persons and papers, and to report at any time.”

Here follows a long recital of frauds perpetrated by Messrs. Leland Stanford, Huntington, Crocker and Hopkins, under the name of “Central Pacific Railroad Company” and “Contract and Finance Company,” etc. Said frauds, Mr. Luttrell says, were against the Government and against the stockholders of the Central Pacific Company. A Mr. Brannan, in a long complaint, sets forth also how and when these gentlemen cheated the Government by presenting false statements of the cost of constructing the Central Pacific Railroad, and in other ways, and cheated the stockholders of said railroad by issuing to themselves the stock, and appropriating other subsidies, which should have been distributed pro rata among all the stockholders.

The entire statement is a shameful exposure of disgraceful acts, any one of which, were it to be perpetrated by a poor man, would send him to the penitentiary.

George was shocked to read Mr. Luttrell's “Preamble and Resolutions,” and Mr. Brannan's “complaint.” Mr. Lawrence Mechlin waited to read them in the evening, at his hotel.

“These two gentlemen ever since their arrival had heard strange rumors about Congressmen being ‘bribed with money,’ and in other ways improperly influenced by ‘a certain railroad man,’ who was organizing a powerful lobby to defeat the Texas Pacific Railroad.” In his endeavors to aid Tom Scott, Mr. Lawrence Mechlin had come across some startling facts regarding the manipulation of railroad bills, especially in the Congressional committees. Still, he was loth to believe that bribery would be so openly used. He was a man of strict probity, slow to think any man dishonorable. George, brought up in the same school, felt, also, a reluctance to believe that the Congress of these United States could be packed, bundled, and labeled, by a few of its treacherous members, who would sell themselves for money, in spite of their honest colleagues.

“Pshaw! the thing is too preposterous,” he had said to his uncle, who, with saddened voice, had answered.

“So it seems to me. Let us go to the Capitol again; I want to speak to some of the Representatives; I have only seen Senators; I must talk with the House a little.” And they had come, and were now listening to the House.

George's business with the Attorney General had been more satisfactory. The appeal was at last dismissed, and the joyful news had been telegraphed to Don Mariano. There was now no dispute about the validity of his title. The Government itself had said that the land belonged to him; would the squatters vacate now? We will see. Meantime, the remittitur had to be sent to the court below, and it was expected that Congress would soon make an appropriation to defray expenses of surveying lands in California. George wrote to Don Mariano not to engage any surveyor to survey his rancho, as there would be an appropriation made for lands to be surveyed by the Government.

Elvira and Mercedes were made very happy on hearing that the appeal was dismissed. They did not well understand what it all meant; but as they were told that now the Government of the United States had said that the rancho belonged to their father, they naturally concluded that the squatters would go away, and there would no longer be any trouble about the destruction of their cattle, and their father not be so worried and unhappy.

Thus, life seemed very sweet to those two innocents, and they enjoyed their visit to Washington to the fullest extent. The Gunthers and Seldens had stopped at the same hotel with the Mechlins, and the three families were constantly together. Their parlors in their evenings “at home” were filled with a crowd of distinguished visitors; other evenings were given to parties and receptions. One cloud only cast a shadow on Mercedes' brilliant surroundings, and this was the obvious misery she saw in Arthur Selden's dejected countenance, and a certain dread she felt at the silent coldness of Robert Gunther. His eyes seemed to her darker than they used to be, but perhaps they seemed so because he was so much paler. But what could she do? she asked herself, and wished very much that these two young gentlemen had remained in New York, for, surely, they couldn't expect that she would give up Clarence! No, indeed. Not for fifty thousand Gunthers, or two million Seldens.

There were times when the coldness of these two young gentlemen was very marked, and, amiable as she was, she felt it. But her Clarence was always near, and his superb eyes were watching, ready to come to her at the slightest indication. It was so sweet to be so quickly understood and so promptly obeyed by him.

There had been a brilliant ball at one of the legations, and on the following morning the Seldens and Gunthers were discussing the event in Mrs. Mechlin's parlor.

“You made two new conquests last night,” said the eldest Miss Selden to Mercedes. “Those two attachÉs are now your new slaves. They are awfully in love. I felt pity for them, to see them so completely captivated. You ought to be proud.”

“I don't think they are in love, but, admitting it is so, why should I be proud? I should be annoyed, that's all,” replied Mercedes.

“Do you expect us to believe that?” Miss Selden asked.

“You may believe it, for it is the truth.”

“You are a strange girl, then.”

“Why so? Why should I wish men to fall in love with me, when I cannot return their love?” said Mercedes, evidently vexed.

“You are the first girl I ever saw that did not want to have admirers; yes, loads of them.”

“Admirers and friends, yes; but you spoke of those young men being in love. Now, if I thought so, I would be very sorry, and, as I do not wish to be unhappy, I hope you are mistaken.”

The Misses Selden laughed incredulously.

“In my opinion, no kind-hearted girl ought to desire to be loved except by the one she loves. Else, she must be a very heartless creature, who enjoys the miseries of others,” added she, earnestly. “Now, I want you to know, I am not cruel; I am not heartless; so I do not wish any man (but one) to be in love with me.”

“You are right, my dear,” Mrs. Gunther interposed. “But the trouble is, you are too pretty, too sweet, to be let alone; you can't help being loved.”

“Then I am unlucky, that's all,” she said, with trembling lips, “and the sooner I go home, the better it will be for mutual comfort.”

Robert Gunther was talking with Elvira, but he had not lost one word of this conversation. In the evening they went to a Presidential reception. It happened that he was near Mercedes when Elvira proposed to go and see the flowers in the conservatory; he offered her his arm, and they followed Elvira. He had spoken very few words to her since they returned from Newport, but had watched her and feasted his eyes on her loveliness. Now, after walking in silence for some time, he said:

“It is a sad sort of consolation to know that you regret inspiring hopeless love. I heard your conversation with the Misses Selden this morning. I thank you for not enjoying my misery.”

“Oh! how could I do that? I wish I could make you happy; please forgive me if I have ever caused you pain?” said she in the sweetest of pleading tones. He looked at her sweet face, turned toward his, and his love for her seemed to rush upon him like an overwhelming wave—like a hot flame rising to his brain.

“Oh! Mercedes, it is frightful how much I love you! What shall I do to conquer this unfortunate infatuation?”

“Forget me; I shall soon be away—far away.”

“Oh! darling, I would rather suffer seeing you, than to have your sweet presence withdrawn from my sight. You see my unfortunate situation? I vow it is awful to love so hopelessly! But I shall never talk to you of my love again. I see I pain you,” he added, seeing that she trembled and looked pained. “Forgive me, for I am very wretched. My life will now be a blank.”

“I wish you could feel for me, as you do toward Elvira. How I envy her your friendship,” she said, in very low tones.

“Do you, truly?”

“Indeed I do. I would be so happy.”

“I shall try. But how can I, loving you so ardently?”

“As a proof of your love, try to be my friend—only a friend.”

“You ask of my love a suicide—to kill itself. Be it so. I shall try,” said he with a sad smile. “The request is rather novel, but perhaps it might be done. I doubt it. I suppose you will be my friend then?”

“I am that now—most sincerely,” said she, earnestly.

On leaving the conservatory, they saw Clarence coming to meet them. He joined Elvira and walked by her side.

“Thanks, Mr. Darrell. I am glad you have good sense,” said Gunther, addressing the back and broad shoulders of Clarence from the distance. Mercedes laughed and felt herself regaining her composure.

They had now been in Washington ten days, and the ladies of the party had only made one very hurried visit to the Capitol. This day Mrs. Mechlin had set apart “to devote to Congress,” she said, and it was arranged that they would go in the morning, would lunch at the Capitol, and remain part of the afternoon. A debate on the Texas Pacific Bill was expected that day, and the Mechlins, as well as Clarence and Mercedes, wished to hear it. The President of the Senate put his rooms at the service of Mrs. Mechlin and friends. Thus the ladies had a delightful time, taking a recess in the President's parlor when they liked, or strolling through the corridors, or sitting in the galleries.

After luncheon, the party, walking toward the public reception room, were met by five or six old men with very white beards. Two of them walked slowly as if weakened by sickness, one walked on crutches, and one had lost an arm, his coat-sleeve being pinned to his breast. Mr. Mechlin stopped to shake hands with them, saying to his wife to go on, that he wished to speak with these gentlemen. On rejoining the party, Mr. Mechlin was asked by Miss Gunther where these venerable old gentlemen came from.

“They looked like a little troop of patriarchs,” Miss Selden added. “What can they want at the Capitol?”

“They want bread,” Mr. Mechlin replied. “Those men should be pensioned by our Government, but it is not done because Congress has not seen fit to do it. The three oldest of those men are veterans of the Mexican War. For twenty-five years they have been asking the Government to grant them a pension, a little pittance to help them along in their old age, but it is not done. Year after year the same prayers and remonstrances are repeated in vain. Congress well knows how valuable were the services of those who went to Mexico to conquer a vast domain; but, now we have the domain, we don't care to be grateful or just. It would perhaps be a matter of perfect indifference to half of our Congress should they hear that all those poor veterans died of starvation.”