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Then you can shoot the details durin' lunch and we'll save time. Oh, I'll charge it up to the firm, never fear." The Cap. don't seem anxious to have his information strained through a third party that way, but I finally convinces him it's the regular course for gettin' a hearing so he trails along to the chophouse. And, in spite of his flannel shirt, Rupert seems well table broken.

"Who knows?" says I. "Next thing we may be hearin' how he's tried to stab some Spaniard with a whisk broom." It was mostly my fault. I'd left the Physical Culture Studio and was swingin' east across 42d-st. absentminded, when I takes a sudden notion to have lunch at my favorite chophouse joint on Broadway, and it was the quick turn I made that causes the collision.

This is the Garraway's that became so famous at the time of the South Sea Bubble, and its fame continued down to the end of the wars of Napoleon. Then its glory departed as a centre of speculations, but its renown as an old-fashioned chophouse remained till 1873. Everywhere in contemporary English literature, from Swift and Addison to Goldsmith and Johnson, one meets references to Garraway's.

This was John Chamberlin. During two decades "Chamberlin's," half clubhouse and half chophouse, was all a rendezvous. "John" had been a gambler; first an underling and then a partner of the famous Morrissy-McGrath racing combination at Saratoga and Long Branch. There was a time when he was literally rolling in wealth. Then he went broke dead broke.

This was John Chamberlin. During two decades "Chamberlin's," half clubhouse and half chophouse, was all a rendezvous. "John" had been a gambler; first an underling and then a partner of the famous Morrissy-McGrath racing combination at Saratoga and Long Branch. There was a time when he was literally rolling in wealth. Then he went broke dead broke.

On the front pages of the papers with senators and governors and millionaires who had divorced their wives, appeared also the names of Ugly Brown Chophouse Sam and Carolina Kate with descriptions of their places, their hours of closing and the class and quantity of their patronage.

My favorite chophouse has ever been a hardwood floor, a loaf of Mills Seminary maiden, and a roof of flat piano. My father, as well as an ogre, was a California horse-thief. I am more reprehensible than my father. I have more teeth. My mother, as well as an ogress, was a Nevada book-canvasser. Let all her shame be told. She even solicited subscriptions for ladies' magazines.

"Yes, pretty much so, I think," was the response. "There were ever so many of them, you know, and each was frequented by a certain class of men. For instance, there was the 'British Coffee-house, where all the Scotch visitors went; there was 'Robin's, which was noted for its foreign bankers and ambassadors; and there was 'Dolly's Chophouse, where the wits congregated.

He stood smiling for a moment and for the moment in the courteous friendliness of his rheumy eyes, in the mannerly tilt of his head there was the picture of a sophisticated gentleman of the world nodding an adieu outside his favorite chophouse. Then he turned. The mannerly tilt vanished.

Of late his forehead had grown lined, and those business friends who had known him for a man of abstemious habits had observed in the City chophouse at which he lunched almost daily that whereas formerly he had been a noted trencherman, he now ate little but drank much. Suddenly the spaniel leapt up with that feverish, spider-like activity of the toy species and began to bark.