QUE FAIRE?
Bay, and from the front a long avenue ran to the bay through a wood of forest trees. From there we crossed the Susquehanna to Principio, and through the lower part of Chester County to Avondale and Kennett Square. The last day's walk was from Kennett Square to Phœnixville. As we went down Main Street, on our way home, we met a rather stout, full-faced man with a sandy complexion and side whiskers who greeted our return with, “I shall put you in the paper.” He has had a career, and it is worth while to stop and look at him. I can well remember the healthy appearance, the cordial and attractive manner and the pleasing personality.
John Henry Puleston at that time was the editor of the Phœnixville Guardian, a weekly newspaper which had a brief and checkered existence. He came to Phœnixville from Scranton and in a few months he left the town, owing everybody in it who could be persuaded by affability to trust him, even the poor woman who did the family washing. No doubt he was absolutely without resources. Soon afterward Governor Curtin appointed him an agent for the State at Washington. He then became associated with Jay Cooke, who sent him to London, where he acquired an interest in the firm and became its representative in England. When Cooke went down under the weight of the Northern Pacific Railroad, in some way Puleston managed to hold up his end and became wealthy. Presently he was made a baronet and went to Parliament, and he died a few years ago in a castle in Wales which he had bought with his acquisitions. Many years after I had met him on Main Street. I was one of the managers of the Penn Club, an organization of note in Philadelphia. It was determined to tender the hospitalities of the club and give a reception to a distinguished member of the British Parliament about to visit America. The arrangements had progressed to a certain extent, but were revoked when it was bruited about that if he came he would fall
