“They've gotten a beastly injunction, they have, really!” said he. “They say we're digging, don't y' know, among their pipes and mains. The hearing is put down for one week from to-day.” “The Gas Company goes vastly out of its way in this!” observed the reputable old gentleman indignantly. He had arrived in company with young Morton. When now the franchise was obtained, and those more devious steps for Mulberry advancement had been taken, the reputable old gentleman began to feel a vigorous interest in his son's enterprise. The reputable old gentleman had grown proud of his son, and it should be conceded that young Morton justified the paternal admiration. “Let us go over to Tammany Hall,” said I, “and talk with Big Kennedy.” We found Big Kennedy in cheerful converse with the Reverend Bronson, over the latter's Five Points Mission. He and the dominie were near Big Kennedy's desk; in a far corner lolled a drunken creature, tattered, unshorn, disreputable, asleep and snoring in his chair. As I entered the room, accompanied by the reputable old gentleman and young Morton, Big Kennedy was giving the Reverend Bronson certain hearty assurances of his good will. “I'll see to it to-day,” Big Kennedy was saying. “You go back an' deal your game. I'll have two cops detailed to every meetin', d'ye see, an' their orders will be to break their night-sticks over th' head of th' first duck that laughs or makes a row. You always come to me for what you want; you can hock your socks I'll back you up. What this town needs is religious teachin' of an elevated kind, an' no bunch of Bowery bums is goin' to give them exercises th' smother. An' that goes!” “I'm sure I'm much obliged,” murmured the Reverend Bronson, preparing to take himself away. Then, turning curious: “May I ask who that lost and abandoned man is?” and he indicated the drunkard, snoring in his chair. “You don't know him,” returned Big Kennedy, in a tone of confident, friendly patronage. “Just now he's steeped in bug juice to th' eyes, an' has been for a week. But I'm goin' to need him; so I had him brought in.” “Of what earthly use can one who has fallen so low be put to?” asked the Reverend Bronson. Then, with a shudder: “Look at him!” “An' that's where you go wrong!” replied Big Kennedy, who was in one of his philosophical humors. “Now if it was about morals, or virtue, or th' hereafter, I wouldn't hand you out a word. That's your game, d'ye see, an' when it's a question of heaven, you've got me beat. But there's other games, like Tammany Hall for instance, where I could give you cards an' spades. Now take that sot there: I know what he can do, an' what I want him for, an' inside of a week I'll be makin' him as useful as a corkscrew in Kentucky.” “He seems a most unpromising foundation upon which to build one's hope,” said the Reverend Bronson dubiously.