While the city sleeps preparations must go on in the markets for
breakfast, and in printing rooms for that equal necessity in our day,
the latest news. Therefore all night long there are dusky figures
flitting hither and thither, seeing to it that when we come down in
gown and slippers, our steak and the world's gossip be ready.

The breakfast of the Gothamites was furnished abundantly with _sauce
piquante_ on the morning of the last day of February, for Hannibal
had shaken his head ominously, and wiped away a few honest tears,
before he could tremulously say to the eager reporter:

"Mr. Allen--hab--just--died."

Gathering what few particulars he could, and imagining many more, the
reporter was driven back even more rapidly, full of the elation of a
man who has found a good thing and means to make the most of it. Mr.
Allen himself was not of importance to him, but news about him was.
And this fact crowning the story of his violation of the revenue law
and his prospective loss of a million, would make a brisk breeze in
the paper to which he was attached, and might waft him a little
further on as an enterprising news-gatherer.

It certainly would be the topic of the day on all lips, and poor Mr.
Allen might have plumed himself on this if he had known it, for few
people, unless they commit a crime, are of sufficient importance to be
talked of all day In large, busy New York. In the world's eyes Mr.
Allen had committed a crime. Not that they regarded his stock gambling
as such. Multitudes of church members in good and regular standing
were openly engaged in this. Nor could the slight and unintentional