New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1885-04-12

| mental sympathy from one source, and pelted with
anmadversiOns from another, renamed maJesti-
| caly constant to his arlstocratlc s"eeihedi y.
| Popular feeling ran b gh; everybody took either
| one side or another. The entire Van Horn family
cut every member of the SCHENECTADY family one
| Sunday morning at the door OF Old TRINITY, Just
after church. ID consequence OF different Opinions
on this mighty and absorbing subject p;, ere was
and fiery young brother of poor Elizabeth Man
| haitian The duel was to take place somewhere
across the river report even named 'he pifgeiSe
| historic spot in which Burr had killed Hamilton
But believe there is no doubt that the duel Iaieu
| to take place.
something sadder took place. however: Elizabeth
| paled, faded and dropped III her captivity Her
parents continued relentless. She was great
heress-great, thar is. for those days; she woula
probably inherit. If she hved the massive sum "a
| $4,000. Her father was very rlch man ne nau
four children aud it was confidently expected that
they would receive fortune of at least %Zoo'ooo
But poor, love-lorn Elizabeth inherted nothing.
| IL Is stated that she died literally of broR ell
| heart. | an writing of generations ago; hearts
we're more brittle in NewYork society then than
| now. They broke. then sometimes Now they get
spraned little like wrist or an ahkie' anu
| ultimately recover +
/ his Elizabeth lie never married. lie went 10
Boston aud lived there for two or three years. ana
Mt ength returned to Now-York. AL the sianderous
stories about his beng money Iess adyentnrer
| were slowly and thoroughly refuted. lie haa DeGn
| in every respect what he had represented himself
Ills attachment to the young helress from whom ne
| was so mercessly torn. clad him with new
| charm melancholy and delicate a. years slipped on
His fealty TO her memory kent his popularity 10r-
ever fresh He still young, and stIll unusually
| handsome He wrote new verses for the albums OF
many devOut feminine friends. But they were all
tuged with the same hue OF sadness Inc ia hsr
and the lost" REQUIRED again and again alnld their
| funereal iambcs.
And here comes the real pathos of my history
| Beau Ellington gradually grew old. But he grew
| old in the most unskilful and injudicious way, III
| he had died at forty his fame as new Abeard OF
constancy might have been preserved intact u ne
tha vnrlH af fort Iii
might still have remained rich chance for his
| future poetic and legendary coronation as hero and
%o.d suf Ana have t s
renown untarnshed. But lie chose to linger IN
drawing rooms until every vestlge OF youth had
health and his undying love for the pomr and
glitter of fashion had ruined him as Q type of
| manly devotion. He became senlle bachelor
| whom everyone tolerated and laughed at
| Thus he stood on the evening met. The grand
| children and the great-grandchildren OF those who
Once made his name sort OF social war-cry. lazily
90 Elected his old prestige while they yawned at
| tns dreary fgments Of his wandering brain. He
| was like a theatre from which the audience have
| departed and in which the lights of the auditorium
| burn no longer while strangely enough the Der-
| Torrance the stage still continues. But win
what mockery of its old alertness. vigor and
| yiyacityi how tame and thin it looks and sounds
beside the energy and ring of the old entertain
| ment! 80 =. ,.,,
story OF the old Beaus past devotion app6a ed to
me at once. | don't pretend to declare why.
| suppose it was because one has grown to expect
nothing of this sort in our. blg, hard: cold CITY,
| ] have always had tenderness for Bowling Green.
too. and the Battery. Any affair of the heart which
occurred there good many years ago was ike
finding when heard It. a pretty picture TO fit
quaint frame long in my possession. tried to
forget that Bean Ellington had heen dsplumed as
a potential gallant of song and story that he had
PLAYED his beau role quiIe too cOntinuOusly-that
he ressmble6 tenor whose Genndro and DdRrico
have once drawn forth widest plaudits hut who
nas
wage of silence where golden enthusiasm cheered
him. tried to forget this. and very fairly sue
ceedCd. Instead of encouraging such disillusonment
/ dipped the brush of fancy, as one might saw
into Colonial coloring and saw tine lovers stroing
together on the breezy Battery, he %ith nj f9nsd
saw the rows Of prim houses near by, with their
plain black iron ratings and their white aIchei
doorYays aud their dorner windows standing forth
from their sloped roofs Beau Ellington and his
sweetheart were so much more agreeable to think OF
than if they had been two modern lovers promenad-
ing along the brownsione smartness of Fifth
Avenue, she with French heels that hurt her and
he with an English collar that hurt him
I was very kind to Bean Ellington for year
two after that And sometimes being kind 10 him
meant being talked to by him for perhaps twenty
good minutes in some such strain as this
Yes, that title thing over there IN blue lor IS 1t
pink 7-yes pink declare l forgot 10 call the
color by the right name-yes. really did Well.
ne% t te m @ Beau Bnsoe hated an inter
ruption as though it were troublesome insect
" for racollect perfectly we'll II was abont that
pink Who'd ever suppose she could he Margaret
Cartwrigh's great grandchild' IL do bGiieye
Marearet Cartwright as meiW why. bless my soul.
she married man old enough to he her father
Colonel Preston a southerner. who'd been oil
husband though Poor fellow, he died long before
she did. But not of old age-ded from one OF his
wounds-caught cold in 1t, going. one very cold
Fjremen's Balls IN those DAYS. and some of the
biggest folks in the city would 90 to EN-. too fou
s t2s whGf have nnT
hitched 10 the engines. you UNDERSTANDING horses
at all.-and
Perhaps would break in. inst here with polite
statement that | knew well how the old Fire De-
partment in New-York had been managed Tor
msnanaged. should have said u and then, back:
would leave Bean Ellington TO find some other
recipient of his garrulity. Yes. on the whole, being
kind 10 him was by no means snecurc.
AT length awoke. one evening. IT, the fact that |
had not seen the old gentleman for several weeks.
Learning his residence. | called there. found him
lying back in an armchair, quite alone The
and stiff in oil its appointments; IL needed the
evidence OF a womans touch. thought of the
dead and gone Elizabeth. How different everything
was I thinking' Elizabeth even If she had
married Bean Ellington, might have lived to good
old aye and still long ago have been IN her grave
Tie old invalid smiled when he saw me. hut
while sat down beside him and took his hand he
gave me no further sign of recognition His old
yOluble tongue was silent forever. Ills parllNBls
had affected him most of all in that way. Every
morning he would he dressed and 60 to his chair.
walking feebly. hut still walking And there he
would SIT all day, never speaking. yet smiling his
dim vacant. pathetic smile II the doctor or the
landlady or his valet addressed him.
He was quite deserted by all his friends No; l
should say that he bad friends left 10 desert him.
lie had liyed too long. There was no one 20 come
except me. Aud !. strangely enough. was Man
hattan-a kinsman OF his long-lOst Elizabeth, OF
course if he had had any kindred here it would
have been otherwise. But there not a soul to
whom one could say "Old Beau Bib ngtOn is
dying at last; the tie Of blood makes i your duty
TO seek him ont and watch beside him." As for his
kindred in other cities or States. no one knew
them. And if any had been found there. they would
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