“Chappie,” after his late and dainty breakfast and stroll down Fifth Avenue (every city has its Fifth Avenue or something like it), enabling the daughters of the poor to gaze upon his charming proportions; delighting their fancy with the possibility in the shape of finery that might be theirs would he only condescend to beckon to them; with a few chosen spirits similar to himself--all of the “smart set,” y’ know!--seeks that most discriminating and select of saloons, Delmonico’s. (And every city has its Delmonico.) There, after tickling his palate and tempting his satiated appetite with delicacies so rare and difficult of procurement that the cost of each one of such dainties would feed some poor man’s family for a fortnight; forgetting that early grandfather, the fur trader, who considered pork a feast, leans back in his chair and lisps in affected imitation of the English, “Where shall we g-o, deah boys?” Now let us draw the veil over where “Chappie” spends his evenings. “Chappie’s” pleasures and “Chappie’s” unnatural amusements would cause a blush of shame to redden the face of the humblest horny-handed son of toil. “Chappie’s” exhausted nature has ceased to realize sensations natural to _men_ and sons of God. “Chappie” is much poorer than his progenitor, the old fur trader; for the old fur trader was rich in all the natural inclinations and appetites created by a natural and vigorous manhood. The old fur trader had no coat-of-arms; but, “Chappie,” that old fur trader would blush at the decadence of his own descendant! When the historian, “Chappie,” shall make up the records of this great nation, that old fur trader, though he swindled the Indians and debauched them with rum, had that which you, “Chappie,” lack--manliness, courage, and character, even though the character was of a peculiar kind. You have no character, “Chappie.” The Common People have found you a tumor, an excrescence upon the body politic. They have taken their knife to amputate, from wholesome Americanism, a foreign infliction. Be careful, “Chappie,” that the amputation does not include the severance of that semblance of a head that you carry on your sloping shoulders. Be warned in time; you and yours have wealth, luxury, influence, and obedience upon the part of those you dominate. You have all that wealth will buy--villas at Newport, yachts, palaces. You revel in banquets, balls, and glittering assemblages. The poor man’s home is illuminated alone by the light shed by honor. He who would steal or deprive him of that one light, takes all from him that makes his life worth the living. The poor man’s honor is the honor of his wife and children. Your immoralities have increased, like appetite, by what they fed upon. It is not after you, the deluge, but it is around you, the deluge. It is in the air, because it is in the hearts of the Common People.