the mail that awaited in that long-advertised list? Truly, Robert
Chalmers was strong enough to lay those letters aside without reading.
That, at least, was prudent.

Let us read these newspaper accounts. There is intense excitement at
Chicago. Lockwin is libeled. The election briberies are exposed.
David Lockwin had spent nearly $200,000 to go to Congress, it is stated.

"Infamous!" cries Robert Chalmers, and vows he is glad he is out of a
world so base. He puts forth for books.

Search as he may, he cannot find the editions that have grown dear to
David Lockwin. He cannot abstain from more purchases of Chicago
papers. They are familiar--like the books in David Lockwin's library
at Chicago.

This is a dreary life, without a friend. He dares not to seek
acquaintances. Not a soul, not even a restaurant keeper, has ventured
to be familiar. The man with a broken nose and missing teeth--the man
with a grotesque voice--is scarcely desired as a customer at select
places on the avenues and Broadway. Let him find better accommodations
among the Frenchmen and Italians on Sixth avenue.

"Probably," they say, "he has fallen in a duel."

But there are fits of melancholia. Return, Robert Chalmers, to your
handsome apartments. Draw down your folding-bed, turn on the heat,
study those Chicago papers. Live once again! What is this? A
reaction at Chicago. Why, here is a page of panegyric. Here is a
large portrait of the late Hon. David Lockwin, lost in Georgian Bay!