garded as an escape from financial ruin, demonstrated their independence by receiving the news of McKinley's election with noisy satisfaction. Opposing interests, antagonistic political factions and parties, diverse business of all sorts, met on common ground. Amid these felicitations occurred the incident which caused Colonel Brown to leave the Club. On the night of the election, the Union League of New York City, the leading Republican Club of the country, headed by a military band, marched down Fifth Avenue from Thirtyninth to Thirty-fourth Street, and took possession of the Manhattan club-house amid a frenzy of rejoicing. On its return to its own club-house, the Union League was escorted by a large and hilarious majority of the members of the Manhattan Club. This proceeding being most offensive to Colonel Brown and many others, a number of resignations, his among the rest, quickly followed. Another clubman destined to live in memory was Captain Thomas Miller, affectionately called "dear old Uncle Tom," one of the most picturesque of the diversified and peculiar types for which the Manhattan Club has been noted and who make its history so interesting. During fifteen years "Uncle Tom" daily arrived at the Club promptly at five o'clock in the afternoon, and never left before 2 a.m., the closing hour. It was remarked of him that he drank nothing but tea before nine o'clock; from then onward, until he quitted the Club, drinking everything except tea. He was famous as a raconteur. He had been on intimate terms with most of the prominent and influential members of the Democratic Party of his time, and his knowledge of striking incidents, both political and social, was wide and universal. He had an effusive and altogether striking personality. His reminiscences were the joy of his associates. He was also famous for his clam and oyster stews, the recipes for which were handed over to Joe of the shell-fish counter, thenceforth bearing the brand of the Manhattan Club. "Dear old Uncle Tom" suggested the menu for many an important Club dinner. During twenty-five years he lived by himself in a hall bedroom not far from the club-house. One night, when the snow was falling heavily, he incautiously ventured forth. He should not have gone alone. He had grown, indeed, very old and feeble. It was two o'clock a.m., his usual hour. The storm was at its height. It proved too much for him. The next morning he was found lying unconscious in Madison Square, barely alive. Borne to his little hall room, "Uncle Tom" soon ceased to breathe. The "star boarder" of the Manhattan for twenty years, Mr. Rodie's colleague in the resuscitation of the Club's finances, was Sylvester J. O'Sullivan. Though often a member of the House Committee, he was better known as treasurer. He possessed a most interesting and lovable personality. He was six and a half feet in height, and of perfect symmetry. Very exact, minute, and methodical, never a day was he absent from his place at the dinner-table-always the same table in the same spot in the dining-room, with practically the same chums around it. Even on occasions when banquets were held, this table at the one locality was reserved for O'Sullivan-known as the "Widow"-and his friends. It was called the "Boarding-house." About it gathered men, but few of whom are still living, of widely different callings, held together by the sturdy character, cordial ways, and allaround attractiveness of Sylvester J. O'Sullivan. The very identity of the "Boarding-house" and its table has been lost since the death of this able, useful, and generous man. Mr. O'Sullivan could never be tempted to make a speech. If called upon, he invariably recited: "There was an old hen that had a wooden leg; She laid more eggs than any chicken on the farm- It was in those days that Judge Beach and Judge Allen, eminent members of both Bench and Bar, were conspicuous habitués of the Manhattan. Judge Miles Beach was a distinguished New York lawyer before he went on the Bench. On a certain occasion he and Judge Allen appeared with a guest of naval appearance, who turned out to be Admiral Dewey. Years later, in 1899,-for that was away back in the early eighties,―the hero of Manila was given a wondrous ovation in New York, following upon his recent victories. The Club gave him a notable reception. On this occasion the clubhouse was decorated with United States flags made into a variety of designs. There was much martial music and lusty cheering by three hundred members. Judge Truax presided, and Mr. Douglas Taylor, seconded by Mr. Jefferson M. Levy, proposed resolutions to the "brave and generous officers and gallant men," among whom was one Manhattan member-Flag-Lieutenant Bromley. The oration of the evening was delivered by James B. Eustis, recently ambassador to France. Dewey was a man who never forgot a person or thing once seen. On the edge of the crowd of that evening, so dense that the staircase leading to the dining-room-it was in the present club-house-had to be roped, the famous guest espied a certain figure. After gazing at the figure for a moment or two, he beckoned to him and extended his hand. "I have been watching you for some time," he said pleasantly; “and I want to tell you that I have not forgotten how well you served me at the old Manhattan club-house on Thirty-fourth Street, when I went there with Judge Beach and Judge Allen." It was Alfred Comyns, at that time head waiter of the Club for over fifteen years, now for thirty years, but for whose good memory the Club might have lost the tradition of many celebrated persons and doughty Democrats. CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH Club Proceedings in the Stewart House-A Round of Receptions to Gorman, Van Wyck, and Cleveland and Stevenson-Death of the distinguished Frederic R. Coudert. T was in December, 1890, that the Stewart house was pronounced ready for Club occupancy, and on the third, tenth, and seventeenth days of that month the famous mansion, at that time one of the wonders of New York, was thrown open for the inspection of the families and friends of the members. The Stewart house, erstwhile home of the merchant prince, A. T. Stewart, was, as one may learn from the newspapers of that day, considered not only the handsomest residence in the great metropolis, but the stateliest on the continent. Standing in its marble splendor, with its noble pillars and fine entranceways, at a conspicuous corner of Fifth Avenue, it long remained one of the sights of the town. The Manhattan Club, in taking possession, made no alterations in its exterior, and permitted only such changes within as were needful to convert a private dwelling into a clubhouse. The decorations were left untouched, and much of the furniture was purchased by the Club. The Gold, the Blue, and the White Room, all leading into each other; the Lace Room, in buff and blue; the capacious picture-gallery, the imposing entrance hall and stairway, won lively admiration from all those fortunate enough to be admitted, and it was the general verdict that the Manhattan Club had indeed a club-house in keeping with its position as the leading Democratic Club of America. The A. T. Stewart house, in the estimation of the architects of that day, was one of the noblest buildings in all the land. It was in Italian Renaissance style, weakened, however, by a French mansard roof, added by Mr. Stewart when he needed an upper story. The entrance steps were the talk of New York, each one quite thirty feet wide, the first platform being, it was claimed, the largest block of marble ever quarried here. A fine feature was the terrace on the Thirtyfourth Street side. The building of this palace consumed seven years. The marble railing around the house cost $50,000; the rotunda, $100,000. The entrance hall, giving an effect of imposing vastness, was twenty-five feet in height, six pillars, each carved, even to its overhanging capital, of one piece of Florentine marble, supporting elaborately ornamented beams. The white marble stairway, winding along the wall to a rotunda, was considered a marvel of architectural skill. The House Committee chose the great room with three windows-two overlooking Fifth Avenue and one Thirtyfourth Street-for the Club parlor. Its carpet, made to order, and woven, at the bidding of Mr. Stewart, in one piece, repeated the frescoing of the ceiling for a pattern,—as, in fact, did all the carpets in the large rooms of the mansion. The furnishing of this room consisted of rosewood furniture inlaid with gilt, plush-covered cabinets, mirrors and chandeliers. All the floors, including that of the basement, were of Italian marble. The dining-room extended across the whole Fifth Avenue front of the third story, in size forty by twenty feet. It was indeed the apartment designed by Mr. |