"Charming picture, General! Charming! but my handkerchief is fresh, and I must save it. I may have a cold before night."
"Well, now, Toll, what's the thing to be done?"
"What do you say to soup-kitchens for the poor? They don't cost so very much, and you get your name in the papers."
"Soup-kitchens be hanged! That's Mrs. Belcher's job. Besides, I don't want to get up a reputation for helping the poor. They're a troublesome lot and full of bother; I don't believe in 'em. They don't associate you with anybody but themselves. What I want is to be in the right sort of a crowd."
"Have you thought of a hospital?"
"Yes, I've thought of a hospital, but I don't seem to hanker after it. To tell the truth, the hospitals are pretty well taken up already. I might work into a board of directors by paying enough, I suppose, but it is too much the regular thing. What I want is ministers—something religious, you know."
"You might run a church-choir," suggested Talbot, "or, better than that, buy a church, and turn the crank."
"Yes, but they are not quite large enough. I tell you what it is, Toll, I believe I'm pining for a theological seminary. Ah, my heart! my heart! If I could only tell you, Toll, how it yearns over the American people! Can't you see, my boy, that the hope of the nation is in educated and devoted young men? Don't you see that we are going to the devil with our thirst for filthy lucre? Don't you understand how noble a thing it would be for one of fortune's favorites to found an institution with his wealth, that would bear down its blessings to unborn millions? What if that institution should also bear his name? What if that name should be forever associated with that which is most hallowed in our national history? Wouldn't it pay? Eh, Toll?"
Mr. Talbot laughed.
"General, your imagination will be the death of you, but there is really nothing impracticable in your plan. All these fellows want is your money. They will give you everything you want for it in the way of glory."