They were burghers. They had never shown
the least capacity for refinement--they ate and drank, and jostled
other people out of the way. The old ones had been boors, and the
new ones were cads.
And Mrs. Billy sat and puffed at her cigar. "Do you know the history
of the family?" she asked. "The founder was a rough old ferryman. He
fought his rivals so well that in the end he owned all the boats;
and then some one discovered the idea of buying legislatures and
building railroads, and he went into that. It was a time when they
simply grabbed things--if you ever look into it, you'll find they're
making fortunes to-day out of privileges that the old man simply sat
down on and held. There's a bridge at Albany, for instance, to which
they haven't the slightest right; my brother knows about it--they've
given themselves a contract with their railroad by which they're
paid for every passenger, and their profit every year is greater
than the cost of the bridge. The son was the head of the family when
I came in; and I found that he had it all arranged to leave thirty
million dollars to one of his sons, and only ten million to my
husband.
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