ersons?" asked the quick-witted
reporter.

On that point Mr. McAllister was more reticent. But the reporter
obtained the list of those who were to be invited to the ball, and the
names were printed as those who constituted New York's "Four Hundred."

"Society," said my friend sagely, "needs to be managed just as a circus
is managed. Of good family, with an independent income large enough to
make him free from the necessity of work, and small enough to keep him
from the time-using diversions of extravagance, with a knowledge of
wines, and a bent for selecting the proper kind of buttons for the coat
in which to attend a cock-fight, he was the man for his circle and age.
A Brummel? Hardly that. There was nothing of the ill-starred Beau in his
appearance. His influence was good, as Brummel's was occasionally good.
You recall the saying of the Duchess of York to the effect that it
was Brummel's influence which more or less reformed the manners of
the smart young men who were notorious for their excesses, their
self-assertiveness, their want of courtesy. He was more akin to the
ill-favoured Richard Nash, whose wise autocracy helped so much in the
redeeming of the city of Bath."

After all, whether it was part pose, or whether the man was quite
sincere in his professed belief in the profound importance of what most
of the world is inclined to regard as trivialities, he was always
consistent. As a youth he went to live in the house of a relative, in
Tenth Street, New York, when that neighbourhood retained a flavour of
aristocracy. A legacy of one thousand dollars fell to him. It was his
first legacy. A cannier soul would have made the money go a long way. He
spent it all for the costume that he was to wear at the fancy dress ball
that was to be given by Mrs. John C. Stevens at her residence in College
Place. "I flattered myself that it was the handsomest and richest
costume at the ball." A little later, in 1850, he went to San Francisco,
to join his father in the practice of law. It was in the first days of
the gold rush, when the city was in the making, and fabulous prices were
paid for the commodities of life. In the make-up of a man there had to
be a certain amount of stern stuff if he was to survive in that struggle
for existence. Young McAllister prospered, and in the course of time
built himself a house. "My furniture," he recorded, "just from Paris,
was acajou and white and blue horse-hair. My bed quilt cost me $250. I