O she said to him: “Oh, darling, I fear that my wealth hath taught thee to love me, and if it were to take wings unto itself thou wouldst also do the same.”
“Nay, Gwendolin,” said Mr. Whisk, softly, as he drew her head down upon his shoulder and tickled the lobe of her little cunning ear with the end of his moustache, “I love not thy dollars, but thee alone. Also elsewhere. If thou doubtest me, give thy wealth to the poor. Give it to the World’s Fair. Give it to the Central Pacific Railroad. Give it to any one who is suffering.”
“No,” she unto him straightway did make answer, “I could not do that, honey.”
“Then give it to your daughter,” said Mr. Whisk, “if you think I am so low as to love alone your yellow dross.” He then drew himself up to his full height.
She flew to his arms like a frightened dove that has been hit on the head with a rock. Folding her warm round arms about his neck, she sobbed with joy and gave her entire fortune to her daughter.
Mr. Whisk then married the daughter, and went on about his business. I sometimes think that, at the best, man is a great coarse thing.
THE DISCOVERY OF NEW YORK.
FROM “BILL NYE’S HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES, 1894.”