Burned Bridges, Bertrand W. Sinclair [ready to read books .txt] 📗

Chapter 4 (A Slip Of The Axe) Pg 41

He Discovered In Himself A Disinclination To Talk About His Labors In

That Field.

 

Macleod Smiled And Forbore To Press The Subject. Tacob Astor Met Mine. He Bid Me Wait My Turn."

 

Despite The Assiduity With Which Mcallister Danced After The Figure Of

The Prince,  He Was Not Among Those Presented. That Honour He Sought The

Next Day,  On The Trip To West Point:

 

"As General Scott Was Presenting Colonel Delafield's Guests To The

Prince I Approached The General,  Asking Him To Present Me To His Royal

Highness. A Giant,  As He Was In Height,  He Bent Down His Head To Me,  And

Asked Sharply,  'What Name,  Sir?' I Gave Him My Name,  But At The Sound Of

'Mc,' Not Thinking It Distinguished Enough,  He Quietly Said,  'Pass On,

Sir,' And I Subsequently Was Presented By The Duke Of Newcastle."

 

Forty-Three Years After That Clamorous Greeting Of New York To The Young

Prince Of Wales The Present Writer Was To Witness In Paris The Visit Of

Edward Vii. For The Purpose Of Cementing The Entente Cordiale. The Tired

Face Told The Story Of The Hardest-Worked Public Servant In The World.

In 1860,  On Fifth Avenue,  He Had Already Begun To Pay The Price Of The

Royal Privilege Of His Exalted Birth To Bear The Arduous Burden Of Royal

Responsibility.

 

There Are Extant Many Old Wood-Cuts Showing The Prince At The Academy Of

Music Ball. But The Following Morning,  That Brought Repose To So Many,

Brought None To Him. There Were Visits To Be Paid To Brady's

Photographic Studios At The Corner Of Tenth Street And Broadway,  To

Barnum's Museum,  To General Scott At His Twelfth Street Residence,  And

The Broadway Store Of Ball,  Black & Company.

 

That Night A Great Torchlight Parade In Honour Of The Prince Was Given

By The New York Firemen. The Prince,  With His Suite And A Number Of City

Officials,  Stood On The Hotel Balcony,  While Five Thousand Men In

Uniform,  With Apparatus And Many Bands,  Marched By. Fireworks Were Set

Off,  The Brilliant Beams Of The Calcium Light--Then A Novelty--Were

Thrown Upon The Standing,  Boyish Figure Of The Prince,  Thousands Of

Flaring Torches Danced And Waved Against The Darkness Of The Opposite

Square.

 

The Next Day,  Sunday,  October 14th,  Brought Some Rest. In The Morning

There Were Services At Trinity,  Where Dr. Vinton Preached; Then A Quiet

Afternoon At The Hotel. With Monday Came The Prince's Departure. At

Half-Past Nine He Left The Fifth Avenue Hotel,  And In Company With The

Duke Of Newcastle,  The Earl Of St. Albans,  And Mayor Wood,  Was Driven

Down To The Harbour Where The "Harriet Lane" Was Waiting To Take Him To

West Point And Albany.

 

The Next Reception That The Chronicler Of Fifth Avenue Events Has Seen

Fit To Record Was That Given To General Grant After The Close Of The

Civil War. At The Fifth Avenue Hotel A Number Of The City's Leading

Business Men Met And Planned The Public Greeting,  And One Hundred And

Fifty Men Subscribed One Hundred Dollars Apiece. The Reception To The

Returning Soldier,  Which Took Place At The Fifth Avenue Hotel November

Chapter 4 (A Slip Of The Axe) Pg 42

20,  1865,  Was Hardly One Of Which The City Or The Street Had Reason To

Be Proud.

 

Loose Management Led To Disorder And Dissatisfaction. Twenty-Five

Hundred Jostling,  Pushing Persons Crowded The Halls,  Corridors,  And

Reception Rooms. The General Stood In One Of The Hotel Parlours

Surrounded By The Committee,  With Mrs. Grant And Other Ladies To His

Right,  And On His Left Generals Wool,  Cook,  And Hooker,  John Van Buren,

Ethan Allen,  And Others.

 

Little Judgment Seems To Have Been Used In Issuing The Invitations. The

Throng Was Indiscriminate. Farce Comedy Was In The Air. Religious

Fanatics,  Passing Before The Hero,  Offered Up Prayers For The Salvation

Of His Soul. Precocious Children Were Thrust Forward To His Attention.

Preposterous Questions Were Propounded By Preposterous People. To Add To

The Confusion The Names Of Those Persons Who Fought Their Way Through

The Throng To Be Presented To The General Were Announced To Him By A

Little Man Who Got Most Of Them Wrong.

 

In A Postscript To His "American Notes," Written Many Years Later,

Charles Dickens Told Of The Vast Changes He Found On The Occasion Of His

Second Visit To The United States--"Changese Knee. He Was Next

To Helpless Since Every Movement Produced The Most Acute Sort Of

Pain--Sufficiently So That When He Had Made Shift To Get Some Breakfast

He Could Scarcely Eat. In The Course Of His Experiments In Self-Aid He

Discovered That To Lie Flat On His Back With The Slashed Foot Raised

Higher Than His Body Gave A Measure Of Ease. So He Adopted This Position

And Stoically Set Out To Endure The Hurt. He Lay In That Position The

Better Part Of The Day--Until,  In Fact,  Four In The Afternoon Brought

Sam Carr,  Shotgun In Hand,  To His Door.

 

Carr Had Seldom Been In The Cabin. This Evening,  For Some Reason,  He Put

His Head In The Door,  And Whistled Softly At Sight Of Thompson's

Bandaged Foot Cocked Up On A Folded Overcoat.

 

"Well,  Well," He Said,  Standing His Gun Against The Door Casing And

Coming In. "What Have You Done To Yourself Now?"

 

"Oh,  I Cut My Foot With The Axe Last Night,  Worse Luck," Thompson

Responded Petulantly.

 

"Bad?" Carr Inquired.

 

"Bad Enough."

 

"Let Me See It," Carr Suggested. "It's A Long Way To A Sawbones,  And

Providence Never Seems Quite Able To Cope With Germs Of Infection. Have

You Any Sort Of Antiseptic Dressing On It?"

 

Thompson Shook His Head. He Would Not Confess That The Pain And Swelling

Had Caused Him Certain Misgivings,  Brought To His Mind Uneasily A Good

Deal That He Had Read And Heard Of Blood-Poisoning From Cuts And

Scratches. He Was Secretly Glad To Let Carr Undo The Rude Bandage And

Examine The Wound. A Man Who Had Spent Fifteen Years In The Wilderness

Must Have Had To Cope With Similar Cases.

 

Chapter 4 (A Slip Of The Axe) Pg 43

"You Did Give Yourself A Nasty Nick And No Mistake," Carr Observed. "You

Won't Walk On That Foot Comfortably For Two Or Three Weeks. Just Grazed

A Bone. No Carbolic,  No Peroxide,  Or Anything Like That,  I Suppose?"

 

Thompson Shook His Head. He Had Not Reckoned On Cuts And Bruises. Carr

Put Back The Wrapping And Sat Whittling Shavings Of Tobacco Off A Brown

Plug,  While Thompson Got Up,  Hopped On One Foot Across To The Stove And

Began To Lay A Fire. He Had Eaten Nothing Since Morning,  And Was

Correspondingly Hungry. In Addition,  A Certain Unministerial Pride

Stirred Him To Action. He Was Ashamed To Lie Supinely Enduring,  To Seem

Helpless Before Another Man's Eyes. But The Effort Showed In His Face.

 

Carr Lit His Pipe And Watched Silently. His Gaze Took In Every Detail

Of The Cabin's Interior,  Of Thompson's Painful Movements,  Of The Poorly

Cooked Remains Of Breakfast That He Was Warming Up.

 

"You'll Put That Foot In A Bad Way If You Try To Use It Much," He Said

At Last. "The Best Thing You Can Do Is To Come Home With Me And Lie

Around Till You Can Walk Again. I've Got Stuff To Dress It Properly.

Think You Can Hobble Across The Clearing If I Make You A Temporary

Crutch?"

 

Thompson At First Declined To Be Such A Source Of Trouble. He Was

Grateful Enough,  But Reluctant. Carr,  However,  Went About It In A Way

That Permitted Nothing Short Of A Boorish Refusal,  And Presently Mr.

Thompson Found Himself,  With A Crutch Made Of A Forked Willow,  Crossing

The Meadow To Sam Carr's House.

 

His Instincts Had More Or Less Subconsciously Warned Him That It Would

Not Be Well For His Peace Of Mind Or The Good Of His Soul To Be In

Intimate Daily Contact With Sophie Carr. But His General Inability To

Cope With Emergencies--Which Was Patent Enough To A Practical Man If Not

Wholly So To Himself--Culminating In This Misadventure With A Sharp Axe,

Had Brought About That Very Circumstance.

 

He Had Not Looked For Such A Kindly Office On The Part Of Sam Carr. That

Individual's Caustic Utterances And Critical Attitude Toward Theology

Had Not Forewarned Thompson That Sympathy And Kindliness Were

Fundamental Attributes With Sam Carr. If He Had An Acid Tongue His Heart

Was Tender Enough. But Carr Was No Sentimentalist. When He Had Bestowed

Thompson In A Comfortable Room And Painstakingly Dressed The Injured

Foot He Left His Patient Much To His Own Devices--And To The

Ministrations Of His Daughter.

 

As A Consequence,  While The Wound In His Foot Healedave Referred To America. And This I Will Do And Cause To Be

Done,  Not In Mere Love And Thankfulness,  But Because I Regard It As An

Act Of Plain Justice And Honour."

 

The Amende Honorable Was Not Less Welcome For Being Long Due And The

Distinguished Visitor Sat Down To Loud Applause And The Strains Of "God

Save The Queen." Mr. Raymond Responded To The Toast "The New York

Press," And Was Followed By George William Curtis,  William Henry

Hurlbert,  Charles Eliot Norton,  Joseph R. Hawley,  Murat Halstead,  Edwin

De Leon,  And E.L. Youmans.

 

Three And A Half Years After The Dinner To Dickens Fifth Avenue Greeted

Chapter 4 (A Slip Of The Axe) Pg 44

In A Similar Way A Distinguished Russian Guest. That Was The Grand Duke

Alexis Alexandrovitch,  Who Was Entertained By The New York Yacht Club At

Delmonico's December 2,  1871. James Gordon Bennett,  The Younger,  Was

Then Commodore Of The Club,  And Received The Grand Duke In The

Restaurant's Parlours At Seven O'clock. The Guests Included The Grand

Duke And His Suite,  The Russian Minister,  General Gorloff,  Admiral

Poisset,  Admiral Rowan,  Members Of The Russian Legation,  Russian

Officers,  And Members Of The Yacht Club. Against The Walls Of The

Banquet Hall The Stars And Stripes Blended With The Blue St. Andrew's

Cross. The Guests Were In Naval Uniform. The "Queen's Cup," Which Had

Been Won By The "America" In 1851,  Had The Place Of Honour Among The

Club Trophies. To