There was something about Bolton both stimulating and winning, and I lay down less a stranger that night than I had been since I came to New York.
CHAPTER XIV.
HAPS AND MISHAPS.
I entered upon my new duties with enthusiasm, and produced some editorials, for which I was complimented by Mr. Goldstick.
"That's the kind of thing wanted!" he said; "a firm, moral tone, and steady religious convictions; that pleases the old standards."
Emboldened by this I proceeded to attack a specific abuse in New York administration, which had struck me as needing to be at once righted. If ever a moral trumpet ought to have its voice, it was on this subject. I read my article to Bolton; in fact I had gradually fallen into the habit of referring myself to his judgment.
"It is all perfectly true," he remarked, when I had finished, while he leaned back in his chair and stroked his cat, "but they never will put that into the paper, in the world."