as forming himself into a society.

This is an age of societies, and, far from concealing from the left hand
the good which the right may be doing, we publish abroad our charities
on all hands. We publish in a stout volume our names and donations. We
even go so far as to cultivate an artificial charity by meat and drink
and speeches withal. When we have eaten and drunk, the plate is handed
round, and from the fulness of our heart we give abundantly. We are
cunning even in our well-doing. We do not pass round the plate until the
decanters have led the way. And thus we degrade that quality of the
human heart which is the best of all.

But Paul Howard Alexis had the good fortune to be rich out of England,
and that roaring lion of modern days, organized charity, passed him by.
He was thus left to evolve from his own mind a mistaken sense of his
duty toward his neighbor. That there were thousands of well-meaning
persons in black and other coats ready to prove to him that revenues
gathered from Russia should be spent in the East End or the East Indies,
goes without saying. There are always well-meaning persons among us
ready to direct the charity of others. We have all met those virtuous
persons who do good by proxy. But Paul had not. He had never come face
to face with the charity broker--the man who stands between the needy
and the giver, giving nothing himself, and living on his brokerage,
sitting in a comfortable chair, with his feet on a Turkey carpet in his
office on a main thoroughfare. Paul had met none of these, and the only
organized charity of which he was cognizant was the great Russian
Charity League, betrayed six months earlier to a government which has
ever turned its face against education and enlightenment. In this he had
taken no active part, but he had given largely of his great wealth. That
his name had figured on the list of families sold for a vast sum of