Stoneleigh was a large man, one generation removed from England,
active, and noticeably of a nervous type. He was industrious,
practically economical, single-minded; these qualities stood him in
the stead of shrewdness. From their small start he became rapidly
wealthy as a dealer in real estate. Mr. Stoneleigh was a generous
eater; his foods were truly simple in variety but luxurious in their
quality and richness. Prime roast-beef, fried potatoes, waffles and
griddle-cakes supplied him with heat, energy and avoirdupois. He
suddenly quit eating at fifty-eight--there was a cerebral hemorrhage
one night. His remains weighed one hundred and ninety-five.

The wife was a comfortable mixture of Irish and English. Her people
were so thrifty that she had but a common-school education. She was
the only child, her industrious mother let her go the way of least
resistance, and were we tracing responsibility of the criminality
behind our tragedy, Mrs. Stoneleigh's mother would probably be cited
as the guilty one. The way of least resistance is usually pretty easy-
going, and keeps within the valley of indulgence. Therefore, Mrs.
Stoneleigh worked none, was a true helpmate to her husband, at the
table, and like him, grew fat, and from mid-life waddled on, with her
hundred and eighty pounds. She was superstitiously very religious,
with the kind of religion that shudders at the thought of missing
Sunday morning service or failing to be a passive attendant at the
regular meetings of the Church Aid Society. Practically, the heathen
were taught American civilization, and she herself was assured
sumptuous reservations in Glory by generous donations to the various
missionary societies.

The only real ordeal which this woman ever faced was the birth of
Henry, her first child; she was very ill and suffered severely. The