Having clearly made him out by
the light of our evening lamp, I went for him with might and main,
determined to leave no boarding-house through the length and breadth
of the land, or at least of South Brooklyn. "Ours," I cried, weekly
"to fulfil its destiny, must be a nation of homes. Down with the
boarding-house!" and the politicians applauded. They were glad
to be let alone. So were the beats who were behind in their bills,
and whose champion I had unexpectedly become. A doughty champion,
too, a walking advertisement of my own prescription; for I grew
fat and strong, whereas I had been lean and poor. I was happy, that
was it; very, very happy, and full of faith in our ability to fight
our way through, come what might. Nor did it require the gift of a
prophet to make out that trying days were coming; for my position,
again as the paid editor of my once "owners," the politicians,
was rapidly becoming untenable. It was an agreement entered into
temporarily. When it should lapse, what then? I had pledged myself
when I sold the paper not to start another for ten years in South
Brooklyn.
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