Ld Anthony Rockwall Analysis

Mammon and the Archer
LD ANTHONY ROCKWALL, WHO HAD MADE millions of dollars by making and selling Rockwall’s soap, stood at a window of his large Fifth Avenue house. He was looking out at his neighbor, G. Van Schuylight Suffolk-Jones. This neighbor was a proud member of a proud old New York family. He came out of his door and got into a cab. He looked once quickly, as usual, at Anthony Rockwall’s house. The look showed that Suffolk-Jones was a very important man, while a rich soapmaker was nothing.
“I will have this house painted red, white, and blue next summer,” said the Soap King to himself. “And we’ll see how he likes that.”
And then Anthony Rockwall turned around and shouted, “Mike!” in a loud voice. He never used a bell to call a servant.

“Richard,” said Anthony Rockwall,
“what do you pay for the soap that you use?”
Richard had finished college six months before, and he had come home to live. He had not yet learned to understand his father. He was always being surprised.
He said, “Six dollars for twelve pieces.”
“And your clothes?”
“About sixty dollars, usually.”
“You are a gentleman,” said his father. “I have heard of young men who pay twenty-four dollars for twelve pieces of soap, and more than a hundred for clothes. You have as much money to throw away as anyone else has. But what you do is reasonable. I myself use Rockwall Soap, because it is the best. When you pay more than ten cents for a piece of soap, you are paying for a sweet strong smell and a name.
“But fifty cents is good for a young man like you. You are a gentleman.
People say that if a man is not a gentleman, his son can’t be a gentleman; but perhaps his son’s son will be a gentleman. But they are wrong. Money does it faster than that. Money has made you a gentleman.
It has almost made me a gentleman. I have become very much

“Why don’t you drive further?” said Miss Lantry. “We’ll be late.”
Richard stood up in the cab and looked around. He saw a stream of cabs and wagons and everything else on wheels rolling toward the corner where Broadway, Sixth Avenue and Thirty-fourth Street meet.
They came from all directions. And more and more were rolling toward them. More and more were caught there. Drivers and cabbies shouted.
Everyone on wheels in New York City seemed to be hurrying to this place. “I’m very sorry,” said Richard. He sat down again. “We can’t move.
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O . H e n r y
They won’t get this straight in an hour. If I hadn’t dropped the ring, we—” “Let me see the ring,” said Miss Lantry. “Since we really can’t hurry, I don’t care. I didn’t want to go to the theater. I don’t like the theater.” At eleven that night someone stopped at the door of Anthony’s room. “Come in,” shouted Anthony. He had been reading and he put down his book.
It was Ellen. “They are going to be married Anthony,” she said.
“She has promised to marry our Richard. On their way to the theater their cab was stopped in the street. It was two hours before it could
move