" Can't we go down to the old market and jump on the 
cars?" Joseph used to ask. They were a great sight in 
those days—the railroad yards. The tracks came into 
Market Street, and many of the cars being locally switched 
about were hauled by horses. The boys were fond of 
riding, stealing as much as they could in this way; and 
Joseph and Edward were no exceptions. 
" Why not?" Edward might ask. 
"Because it isn't good for you, that's why. You keep 
off those things." 
" Aw, the Collinses go down there." 
" Well, we're not the Collinses. Don't you ever go 
down there alone." 
Having the parental confidence and backing as well as 
his own natural force, Frank's word was law; and yet he 
was a liberal interpreter of the law. He liked to play 
"one old cat," the new baseball game coming into vogue 
at that time, and he was fond of football as played by his 
Central High School team. He liked visiting the museums 
in Chestnut Street—there were several—a menagerie, a 
museum of anatomy, and another of curious fish and 
birds; and he liked the theater, and would gladly take his 
brothers to a minstrel show or a pirate melodrama, pay- 
ing the expense himself when he had the money. From 
the very first he was a good leader, but also a splendid 
second to those older than himself whom he sincerely 
admired. There was a certain "Red" Gilligan, a tall, 
shambling, and yet rather brilliant and pyrotechnic rowdy, 
who took a great fancy to young Cowperwood for a time. 
He used to see him at first, when he was a ten-year-old 
boy, passing the corner of Arch and Second, where 
Gilligan with the members of what was known as the 
"River gang" used to "hang out." Gilligan had another 
young protégé, " Spat " McGlathery, who received a ter- 
rible drubbing one afternoon from young Cowperwood 
a year or two later for spitting on his shoes. It came 
about in this way. He was passing innocently by, carry-