ABSTRACT
DONALD RUSSELL SANK BACK IN HIS comfortable armchair with a sigh that connoted deep content. He was in the bosom of his family, happy in its undercurrent of affectionate intimacy, his pipe was a glowing ember and drawing well, the night was mild yet tonic in its springtime fragrance, and around him spread the well-loved panorama of multicolored New York. What more could any reasonable human being desire, he queried silently, and forbore an answer in the sense of well-being that flooded him.
