Almost within a stone’s throw of the antique structure that for a full century has been known to New Yorkers as St. Mark’s Church stands a mansion that has had, like Eden, its glory and its fall. Once it was the home of aristocracy and wealth. To-day it is an eating-place for those whose lot is poverty and whose faith is democratic. At the moment at which our story opens, the rooms in which in the old days portly Knickerbockers indulged in stately feasts are crowded with picturesque waifs from the Old World, who have, for a variety of reasons, crossed the Atlantic to air their woes in a freer atmosphere than surrounded them at home. A _table-d’hôte_ dinner, greasy, cheap, and plentiful, is …
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