A New Aristocracy

								

A NEW

                              ARISTOCRACY.

                                   BY

                            “BIRCH ARNOLD,”

                    Author of “Until the Daybreak.”

                      BARTLETT PUBLISHING COMPANY.

                NEW YORK: 30 AND 32 WEST THIRTEENTH ST.

                   DETROIT, MICH.: 44 WEST LARNED ST.



                                 1891.

                          COPYRIGHT BY AUTHOR.

                      ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED BY

                    THE PUBLISHERS’ PRINTING COMPANY

                        30 & 32 WEST 13TH STREET

                                NEW YORK

“Talk about questions of the day. There is but one question and that is
the Gospel. It can and will correct everything that needs correction....
My only hope for the world is in bringing the human mind into contact
with Divine Revelation.



                                                     “WM. E. GLADSTONE.”

                             INTRODUCTION.

               “Write ye for art,” the critics cry,

                 “And give your best endeavor,

               That down the aisles of length’ning time

                 Your fame may speed forever!”



               “Write ye for truth,” my heart replies,

                 “And prove that generous giving,

               May help some blinded eyes to find

                 The noblest way of living.”



               The simple story, plainly told,

                 May bear its own conviction,

               And words alive with buoyant hope

                 May supersede their diction.



               Give me the horny-handed clasp

                 Of some good honest neighbor,

               Who finds within the words I speak

                 A strength for earnest labor.



               Give me the lifted, grateful smile

                 Of some poor fainting woman,

               Who knows that I regard her soul

                 As something dear and human.



               Give me the fervent, heartfelt prayer

                 Of just the toiling masses;

               To be remembered with their love

                 Your boasted art surpasses.



               And this be mine, whate’er the fault

                 Of manner, not of matter,

               Along the rocky ways of life

                 Some living truths to scatter.

                                           BIRCH ARNOLD.

                           A NEW ARISTOCRACY.

                               CHAPTER I.

Mr. Murchison was dead. The villagers announced the fact to each other
with bated breath as they gazed with reverent awe at the crape on the
door.
“Poor man,” they sighed, vaguely sympathetic; “it’s well enough with him
now, but there’s the children.”
“Ay, there’s the children,” more than one responded feelingly.