"O yes; I was expecting you. They all come to me. Father Gallagher, of
the Catholic Church, Dr. Wyatt, of the Episcopal Church, and all the
others, have been here. I feel friendly to the Churches, and I treat all
alike--it won't do for me to be partial--I don't give to any!"
That last clause was an anticlimax, dashing my hopes rudely; but I saw
he meant it, and left. I never heard of his departing from the rule of
strict impartiality he had laid down for himself.
We met at times at a restaurant on Clay street. He was a hearty feeder,
and it was amusing to see how skillfully in the choice of dishes and the
thoroughness with which he emptied them he could combine economy with
plenty. On several of these occasions, when we chanced to sit at the
same table, I proposed to pay for both of us, and he quickly assented,
his hard, heavy features lighting up with undisguised pleasure at the
suggestion, as he shambled out of the room amid the smiles of the
company present, most of whom knew him as a millionaire, and me as a
Methodist preacher.
He had one affair of the heart. Cupid played a prank on him that was the
occasion of much merriment in the San Francisco newspapers, and of much
grief to him.
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