“Then,” said the gentleman, “there _is_ a divinity that shapes our ends, rough hew them how we may.” “Yes,” said my mother; “and that divinity is in our own hearts--there's the wonderful thing about it.” CHAPTER X.--THE CONTINUATION OF THE BATTLE [Illustration: 9325] ATE in March the astute captain of the outlawed army established headquarters in Albany, and sought the help of the legislature to save him and his comrades from the doom that threatened him. The dogs of the law were on his trail and in full cry. Only his intimates saw him, for he had rooms in the Delevan with a secret passage to the street. He came and went under cover of darkness and the protection of his friends. He had millions of dollars at his command. He wanted that illegal issue of stock, which had been forced upon Commodore Vanderbilt, to be investigated and indorsed and sanctified by the legislature itself. Any man that required buying was to be bought. Then it was that the third house began its career of infamy, and the friendship of the gentleman and the Commodore came to its end. There were buying and rebuying on both sides. One day a senator made a fierce attack upon the bill. In the midst of his speech a note was passed to him. He glanced at it, and continued his attack. Soon he veered about, saying: “But, gentlemen, while this is one side of the subject, I am glad to say that there is another and a brighter one, to which in fairness I must invite your attention.” He went on with many and ingenious arguments in favor of the bill. It was in the midst of this struggle that Bony came to me one day, and said: “I want a frank talk with you. We have eaten and slept together, and you know me pretty well. I've always kept my word with you, haven't I?” “I've no complaint to make,” was my answer. “Now, I'm going to be frank with you,” he went on. “This Erie bill has got to go through. It's very important to me. If you can induce McCarthy to favor the bill, it will be worth a hundred thousand dollars to you.” “Oh, Bony! It's out of the question,” I said. “He's against it, and he's not for sale. You couldn't buy him with all the money in the land.” “But he'll do anything for you,” said the tempter. “He's a friend of yours, and they tell me he's stuck on your sister. All you've got to do is ask him and your fortune is made. Old Vanderbilt will drop him one of these days--there isn't a colder-blooded pirate in America. McCarthy would do better with us.” I was dazed by the calm assurance of the man who stood before me. It recalled the day when he waved the crowd out of our way as we were approaching the tent of the rope-walker. I laughed as I looked at him, and rather enjoyed his anxiety. “You're barking up the wrong tree,” I said. “There's nothing in it for you--not a thing.”