A FAMOUS VICTORY
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 1 But what good came of it at last?" 
 
 Quoth little Peterkin. 
 'Why, that I cannot tell," said he: 
 " But 't was a famous victory." 
 
 CHICAGO : 
 
 JANSEN, McCLURG & COMPANY. ^ \* . 
 1880. 

 
 
 COPYRIGHT : 
 
 JANSEN, McCumG & COMPANY. 
 A. D. 1880. 
 
 
 7 
 
 a& :
 
 -PS 
 79 / 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I. A Short Journey ... 5 
 
 II. A Long Journey . . . .12 
 
 III. The Complete Letter-writer . 18 
 
 IY. The Major's Agricultural Tastes . 32 
 
 V. The Major at Home ... 39 
 
 VI. Agents Wanted Apply Within . 52 
 
 VII. The Net and The Bird . . 66 
 
 VIII. The Temptation . . . .78 
 
 IX. The Struggle .... 92 
 
 X. The Conquest .... 97 
 
 XL Winifred's Canvass ... 104 
 
 XII. On the Bridge . . . .115 
 
 XIII. Counting the Vote . . . 125 
 
 XIV. An Unaccountable Vote . . 136 
 XV. Keward of Merit ... 144 
 
 XVI. "A New Deal" . . . .155 
 
 XVII. Bunkery, the Statesman . . 161 
 
 XVIII. Enlightening the Public . . '176 
 (3) 
 
 753404
 
 4 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Fighting Monopolies 
 
 186 
 
 XX. 
 
 Perceval's Dream 
 
 195 
 
 XXL 
 
 A Fatal Illness 
 
 208 
 
 XXII. 
 
 An Interesting Dispatch . 
 
 217 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 A Mere Newspaper Sensation . 
 
 223 
 
 XXIY. 
 
 Detecting the Guilty . 
 
 227 
 
 XXY. 
 
 A Promising Artist 
 
 240 
 
 XXYI. 
 
 The Private Hospital . 
 
 252 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The Missing Link 
 
 261 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Doing Penance .... 
 
 270 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 A House of Kefuge . 
 
 277 
 
 XXX. 
 
 In the Presence .... 
 
 285 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 How Water Kan Up Hill 
 
 294 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Getting Even .... 
 
 299 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 A Long Friendship Ended 
 
 308 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Social Equality . 
 
 313 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Mr. Bunkery's Victory . 
 
 319 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Jephthah's Daughter . . 
 
 330 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Playing with Fire . 
 
 336 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 The Enemy Conquers . 
 
 348 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 The End '. 
 
 357
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 A SHORT JOURNEY. 
 
 IN the early summer of 18 a score of railway 
 trains between the Atlantic sea-board and the Mis- 
 sissippi, were hurrying along the threads of an iron 
 cobweb, and carrying to the center thereof crowds 
 of party politicians. The passengers aboard one of 
 them, might, through the glass sides of its " palace " 
 cars, have beheld an ever-changing panorama of forest, 
 rock, and distant mountains, blending their blue relief 
 with the tints of the sky. A midnight shower had 
 endowed the landscape with fresh charms and seemed 
 to have washed the firmament itself to a crystal clear- 
 ness. 
 
 As the train curved sharply round the mountains, 
 the morning sun blazed in, first on this side, now on 
 that, shattering its beams into myriad fragments 
 upon the mirrors and metallic ornaments within. 
 Those who trust their senses only, would have imag- 
 ined it a mighty pendulum swinging in the heavens, 
 or a comet playing hide-and-seek among the moun- 
 (5)
 
 6 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 tains. It whisked behind great heights casting shad- 
 ows broad as a German duchy athwart the dripping 
 forests. It stared down the sloping aisles of the 
 water gaps; then was hopelessly extinguished in the 
 rock-hewn railroad " cuts," whose sombre-tinted walls 
 oozed with the overflow of ice-cold fountains. 
 
 The invisible scene-shifters of this lordly theatre 
 were capricious beyond all reckoning. One minute 
 they rushed forward, a cluster of white houses, look- 
 ing, in the far-off "clearing" like a nestful of eggs; 
 the next they transformed it into a winding stream ; 
 into sloping fields green with young oats; into a red- 
 covered bridge, to the eye no bigger than a mouse- 
 trap, alluring the horses, which, no bigger than mice, 
 crawled along the yellow road. "Without warning, 
 they shot it all from sight behind a screen of forest; 
 or of boulders down which cascades leaped; or of 
 ragged precipices adorned with lonely evergreens, or 
 clinging birches. 
 
 But the patriots on the train barely glanced at " the 
 pictures painted mile on mile," partly because, like 
 Dr. Johnson, " they never heeded such nonsense," 
 chiefly because they were too seriously interested in 
 " the whole of our broad land " to waste attention on a 
 few paltry acres of scenery. For nearly all were dele- 
 gates or interested spectators, on their way to their party 
 convention, called at a self-important western city, 
 whose name is impartially omitted here. 
 
 Most of them were clad in the conventional dark 
 suit which lends individual dignity to public men, but 
 which, in conventions where, like insects, they break
 
 A SHORT JOURNEY. 
 
 groups and swarm again, increases that ravenous mien 
 common to small animals running to and fro in search 
 of sustenapce. 
 
 While the politicians affirmed, denied, begged, bul- 
 lied, until they yawned with fatigue, the morning grew 
 into noon, and the voice of hunger out-clamored even 
 the syren notes of the Goddess of Liberty ; for, in re- 
 lieving the people of the toil and vexation of select- 
 ing their rulers, the American party " worker " could 
 not, were he earning his honest living, labor harder or 
 more faithfully. 
 
 Two porters in uniform brought from the pantry at 
 the end of the car salad, sandwiches, oranges, bananas, 
 and champagne, and set them on the little tables. 
 
 This attracted the attention of an Irish doctor, whose 
 business was " politics," medicine his recreation, and 
 the fervent heat of whose energy, as if not finding full 
 vent below in voice and gesture, burst through above 
 in the blaze of his hair and beard. He was in the act 
 of committing verbal assault, with intent to persuade, 
 upon an equally fiery merchant of American nativity, 
 who knew which candidate "his folks wanted better 'n 
 any Castle Garden gradooate could tell 'em leastwise 
 one that did n't bring nothing into the country but 
 imppidence and a suit o' clothes." 
 
 "An' all ye brought was the ampudence, like ivery 
 one borrun here," retorted the doctor; whereat there 
 was a laugh, while the doctor dived into his seat at 
 the table, and the square under-jaw, always at the ser- 
 vice of his adopted country, wagged a stiff brush of 
 chin whiskers until his fierce hunger was abated.
 
 8 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 An ardent statesman, with blue-black hair and an 
 enormous bristling moustache, was laboring in great ex- 
 citement for his State's " favorite son." His big veins 
 swelled like hose at a fire, and, by moistening his hot 
 face with a flood of perspiration, perhaps prevented 
 spontaneous combustion. 
 
 " He'll go out of my State with fifty thousand ma- 
 jority," said this almost livid statesman to a Pennsyl- 
 vania giant whom he was trying to alarm, and who, 
 wrapped in a mainsail of linen " duster," displayed on 
 his broad shoulders two large maps of the water- 
 courses of a previous perspiration shed in behalf of 
 his own " favorite son." 
 
 " Do you believe it?" asked the giant. 
 
 "Believe it! No, I don't believe it," echoed the 
 swarthy statesman, and, with his forearm, violently 
 pumped the emphasis into his outstretched finger; "I 
 know it!" 
 
 He raised the handle again, but catching sight of the 
 luncheon, dropped into his seat, and drank off two or 
 three glasses of champagne. 
 
 Back of him sat a tall, thin delegate, with smoothly 
 shaven face, who never suffered his voice to rise above 
 or fall below the level of his dignity, but, when in- 
 terrupted with roaring protest, cut short his sentence, 
 and, tranquility being restored, calmly took up again 
 the thread of his discourse where the shears of impa- 
 tience had clipped it. 
 
 At the same table was a dapper little man, who, 
 through the apertures left by larger ones, always 
 squeezed to the center of every group; and a "boss"
 
 A SHORT JOURNEY. 
 
 whose bead, if there be truth in phrenology, might, 
 with its combative and acquisitive bumps have been 
 mistaken for a boy's pocket at the height of the "top" 
 season. 
 
 Opposite, was a graceful, self-regarding gentleman, 
 with smooth hands, English side- whiskers, an intelli- 
 gent forehead, and an aristocratic nose which disdained 
 caucuses and caucus mandates, though its proprietor 
 never refused obedience to either, and whose disgust 
 with the offensive table-manners near it, was just vis- 
 ible in the sensitive play of its nostrils. 
 
 Picturesque among them, with ruddy cheeks and 
 snow-white hair, sat Israel Stratton, who, traveling for 
 pleasure, took no part in the bustle, except when an ac- 
 quaintance accosted him. 
 
 "Well, Stratton, whom are you going to vote for this 
 time 2" asked an ex-governor, a grizzled, farmer-like 
 person, sitting in the chair next him and peeling a ba- 
 nana as he spoke. 
 
 " That depends upon whether yon people do what I 
 suppose you'll do next week." 
 
 " What do you think we'll do ? " 
 
 " Nominate my townsman, Brewster, declare war 
 on the banks, throw a sop to the inflationists, and stir 
 up every loafer against property and order. A man 
 of your brains must feel sick at the thought of it." 
 
 " O, yes, you know how I feel, for in that case you'll 
 have to stand by some old war horse." 
 
 " It's a choice of evils," remarked Stratton, "but 
 the}- always stick to us or we stick to them in this 
 country; and elsewhere, too, for that matter. People
 
 10 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 take it quite as a matter of course that a man who 
 Comes out strong in stormy weather is the man that is 
 wanted in peace ; that sea-captains make good archi- 
 tects, and cannon are the best cook-stoves. Twenty- 
 five years from now,' somebody in Iowa or Michigan 
 will still be voting for the Savior of His Country just 
 as in Pennsylvania they used to vote for that patriotic 
 rowdy, Andrew Jackson, long after he had 
 
 " Turned to Clay, so to speak," interrupted the dap- 
 per little man in the chair opposite, who always looked 
 around for a laugh as he spoke. 
 
 The ex-governor made no direct reply, but after ris- 
 ing, lighting a cigar and sitting down again, said, with 
 an almost imperceptible grimace, " Yes, I'm afraid 
 we'll have to take JBrewster, though he's a bitter dose; 
 But it's money we want, and he's rich as mud." 
 
 "Down my way," remarked Stratton, "they say 
 dirty water '11 fetch the pump when clean can't be had, 
 and I guess you 're all too thirsty to be particular." 
 
 " Well," said the ex-governor with a resigned air, 
 " after you 've got quite done abusing Brewster, he^a 
 the smartest man in the United States" 
 
 " O, yes, he'll admit that himself," said Stratton 
 shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 " But, seriously, other men are afraid of him. He 
 never wastes time in self-defense, but gives the other fel- 
 low all he wants picking the shot out of his own skin." 
 
 "He's shrewd enough to know," said Mr. Stratton, 
 " that a great many people will take the smart man 
 for an honest one, if he can make them believe the 
 other fellows are scamps."
 
 A SHORT JOURNEY. 11 
 
 ' " I take a good deal of stock in the Major," said the 
 dapper little man, spinning the stem of his glass in 
 his fingers; " if he goes to the bad place, as his enemies 
 say he will, first thing they'll know, he'll be starting 
 a skating rink, and ruining the business of the original 
 proprietor." 
 
 " Well, the country's made up of all sorts of people," 
 said the ex-governor, philosophically, " and you must 
 take them as you find them." 
 
 " You didn't treat your swamp farm in that way. 
 You improved it." 
 
 " There comes Carroll," said the ex-governor.
 
 12 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 
 
 THE door opened, admitting from the forward car a 
 gentleman, whose tall, well-outlined form and swing- 
 ing, firm-stepping gait, seemed to lay assured claim to 
 his full share of the planet. 
 
 Though past thirty years of age, his face was as 
 round and fresh as a child's. Wherever he went, his 
 genial social climate quickly melted a space about him. 
 He was the devoted adherent of Brewster's rival for 
 the nomination, Elliot Wharton, which, though not 
 his real name, will answer the purpose of identifying 
 him. Carroll was the acknowledged leader of that 
 gentleman's forces at the convention, such as they were, 
 and "his sanguine expectation as to the result, had 
 led him to prepare a witty and brilliant speech, not 
 only in nominating Wharton, but another quite as 
 eloquent in celebration of his triumph. 
 
 " Hullo, Carroll! we were just talking about Brews- 
 ter's chances," said the ex-governor. 
 
 "Well, if a man's time is of no value to him, I 
 suppose he might as well spend it talking about that 
 as any other creature of his imagination." 
 
 "If you could only dispose of him as easily as
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 13 
 
 that at the convention, he would n't come very near 
 to the nomination I admit," said the ex-governor. 
 
 " He'll come as near as the man came to making 
 twice two equal five, within one of it," replied Car- 
 roll. 
 
 " "Why, if you 've figured it down as close as that, it 
 makes a pretty good show for Brewster." 
 
 " Yes, if Wharton is n't the one, Brewster will be," 
 said Carroll. " It's all nonsense talking about Brews- 
 ter's chances. His noise has nothing to do with if." 
 
 "The steamboat that's tied up and blowing off 
 raises the racket, not the one making ^its trip," com- 
 mented the dapper little man. 
 
 " I must have a paper," said Mr. Stratton as the 
 newsboy came in. "Good Heavens!" he exclaimed 
 as his eye glanced down the financial columns, "gold 
 has gone up five per cent." 
 
 An exclamation of surprise went around the circle. 
 
 " It has more faith in Brewster's nomination than 
 you have," said Mr. Stratton. 
 
 " It's only a flurry," said Carroll with assumed care- 
 lessness. 
 
 "It is no wonder," continued Mr. Stratton, "with 
 millions of silver in the country, and constantly increas- 
 ing, Europe recovering from the hard times, and threats 
 to give Congress sole control over the issue of paper! 
 I sometimes think I 'd leave the country along with 
 the gold, if I could." 
 
 At this moment the sharp, short shrieks of the lo- 
 comotive, the sudden grinding of the air-brakes, and 
 the almost painful jerking of the fast-checked train
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 thrilled the passengers with alarm, as the cars pulled up 
 at a little station in the mountain solitudes, at which the 
 express trains never stopped. There was a slight stir 
 among three or four men in homespun on the little 
 platform, as the conductor came back from the tele- 
 graph room, and sprang on the train: 
 
 "Stopped for some Brewster delegates!" exclaimed 
 Carroll, nodding toward the group on the platform. 
 
 "A dispatch for Mr. Carroll," said the conductor, 
 excitedly. 
 
 Carroll opened the envelope in such haste that he 
 tore the message in two. Casting one glance at it, 
 he let it drop and fell back into his seat. 
 
 "Is there an answer?" asked the conductor. 
 
 Carroll shook his head, and, as the train moved on, 
 motioned to Mr. Stratton to pick up the telegram. 
 He did so and read aloud these words: 
 
 "Wharton died, in his library chair, just after 
 breakfast." 
 
 In spite of the increasing clatter of the train, one 
 perceived a solemn stillness in the car, and might 
 almost have heard the echo of Edmund Burke's 
 words concerning "the worthy gentleman who has 
 been snatched from us in the middle of the contest, 
 while his desires were as warm and his hopes as eager 
 as ours." 
 
 Much of Carroll's hope and ambition would be bur- 
 ied with the coffin of his chief, and with bowed head 
 he walked forward to his own car, saying, with an ac- 
 cent of sincerity: 
 
 " I would gladly have died for him "
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 15 
 
 " If Wharton bad been elected, be expected to be 
 in tbe cabinet or bave a foreign mission," said tbe ex- 
 governor. 
 
 "A very hopeful temperament that!" sniffed tbe 
 dapper little man; "he'd invite you to his champagne 
 supper while setting out his grape-vines." 
 
 Though knowing that this intervention had assured 
 them the victory, the partisans of Brewster were as 
 decorous as possible. Perhaps they felt that their op- 
 ponent had been swept away by a tide which even 
 their leader could not beat back, and from which at 
 some time he could not retreat. 
 
 "It's a national calamity," said Mr. Stratton; "but 
 then, he never would have been nominated. He was 
 
 too d fair, as somebody said, awhile ago. We've 
 
 not many such men, and they are esteemed much as a 
 missionary is in the Cannibal Islands excellent to 
 make game of." 
 
 " Well, now, do you know I 'd as soon be in the hot 
 place on a July day without a fan as to hear a grown 
 man go on in that style," said Congressman Bnnkery, 
 from the State of " Injanner." 
 
 From an aperture which, in a freak of indulgence, 
 Nature had bestowed for the double service of mouth 
 and tobacco-pouch, he dashed, as he spoke, an amber 
 sea upon the spotless concave of the porcelain spit- 
 toon. 
 
 " Wharton didn't believe his own party was born 
 without sin, and that all others are totally depraved," 
 continued Mr. Stratton. 
 
 " Yes, I've heard a good deal of that nonsense in
 
 16 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 my day," said Bunkery, taking down his legs from 
 the seat in front of him ; " it mostly comes from Sun- 
 day School teachers, and fellows that waste their time 
 playing on the piano, when there's po'ker and Cali- 
 forny Jack. Wharton was one of those namby-pam- 
 by chaps. As yon say, there's mighty few of them, 
 and that's lucky. Just when things are squally, and 
 you want to belay your best rope, they '11 let it slip 
 back on you by admitting that the party sometimes 
 does wrong and makes mistakes. Pd ship 'em along 
 with the heathen Chinee. 'Old Zach,' as they used to 
 call him, was my idee of a leader. No bread-and-milk 
 poultices for him. He always soothed the other fel- 
 lows with a curry comb. 'T was worth a trip to Wash- 
 ington, just to hear him say ' double-dyed traitor ' at 
 four o'clock in the morning. 'T would set you up for 
 six months. The boys fairly adored him. There 's 
 mighty few such men now-a-days; so the country 's 
 playing out. Yon never hear them admit, even if they 
 believe it, that the other party ever did a good thing 
 or that there are honest patriots in it. No sir, they 
 know better. They know your gov'ment could n't run 
 a one-horse town down in Arkansaw on any such prin- 
 cipull as that. No, sir. I b'leeve in the old doctrine 
 that a hoss-thief always belongs to the other party. 
 Then there 's that other nonsense of Wharton and his 
 kidney about runnin' the gov'ment on business prin- 
 ci-pulls, by keepin' the boys always in office, if they 
 behave themselves. 'T would ruin the country if it 
 could be put into operation. Lucky it's such cussed 
 nonsense, it '11 never get a foothold here. If we 've got
 
 RELEASED BY 
 PUBLIC 
 
 A LONG JOURNEY. 
 
 to go to Yew-rup for idees, we might as well shut up 
 shop, and be done with it." 
 
 " His bark 's worse 'n his bite," said the ex-governor, 
 and filling glasses afresh they drank to the success, 
 whichever party might be in power, of these funda- 
 mental principles of government. 
 
 Mr. Stratton made no reply, for just as Bunkery 
 finished, he got off at his destination. 
 
 Even though men's hearts stop beating, politics 
 and railroad trains must go on, and the next morning 
 the politicians arrived at the city of the convention. 
 In consequence of Wharton's death, the opposition to 
 Brewster, one of the nation's millionaires in full con- 
 trol of the party machine, broke down, and his nom- 
 ination lacked even the applause which conflict con- 
 fers on victory. The party " pointed with pride to its 
 past," and adjourned to the day of judgment in. the 
 following November.
 
 IS A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE COMPLETE LETTER- WRITER. 
 
 THOUGH a manufacturer in the small city of Rox- 
 bury, Conn.,where he usually spent the summer and fall, 
 Major Brewster, for political and other reasons, owned 
 a residence on the famous Bonanza Square, in the city 
 of New York. This opulent quadrangle is so suc- 
 cessfully secluded from the vulgar gaze that those who 
 have never dared peep into its precincts, currently be- 
 lieve it paved with something of the metallic luxury 
 that emblazons the streets of the New Jerusalem. Its 
 Eminent Respectability adds lustre to names oftener 
 seen or heard in the newspaper and on " the street " than 
 in the tax-lists, where, of all places, the wealth of Bo- 
 nanza Square is never vulgarly flaunted, nor the hum- 
 bler tax-payer abashed with rows of its swollen and 
 supercilious ciphers. Some of its residents, retiring 
 from the business by which in earlier days they ac- 
 quired their fortunes, basking in the gentle warmth of 
 life's Indian summer, contrived, by hobbies adapted 
 to their tastes and .habits, to divert their venerable 
 minds and still attract the public interest. 
 
 One amused his declining years by collecting rail- 
 road bric-a-brac lines that went nowhere in particu- 
 lar and brought nothing back stumps, splinters, and
 
 THE COMPLETE LETTER-WRITER. 19 
 
 other useless fragments of transportation, whose in- 
 genious dovetailings into the huge main systems filled 
 up the time of the virtuoso, and saved him from the cark 
 of idleness; while his neighbor, having a distaste for 
 railway curiosities, was engrossed in the cultivation of 
 telegraph posts, industriously setting them out along 
 the public highways, and watching, with tender solic- 
 itude, the increased budding of their green-glass bulbs 
 and the yearly growth of their vigorous cross-pieces. 
 
 Unless it were in the heavier stone balusters on the 
 front steps, the greater massiveness and depth of color 
 of the doors leading into the tiled and frescoed vesti- 
 bule, and in a business office in the rear, accessible by 
 a side entrance, Major Brewster's house did not great- 
 ly differ from his neighbors. So far as he was con- 
 cerned at the present time, this office was the princi- 
 pal part of the house, for it was here that he was per- 
 sonally conducting his presidential campaign. 
 
 It was a July morning, 18 , and the Major was at 
 his desk. His big, round head, well-covered with 
 long, thick locks of " sable silvered," was set on broad 
 shoulders, which readily wedged their way to the 
 front, and bore with ease the burdens of life. Though 
 tall and heavy, he so compactly disposed of two hun- 
 dred pounds about him, that a casual observer would 
 have much underestimated his weight. His face was 
 gnarly but massive, seamed with strong lines about 
 the eyes and across the forehead. His nose belonged 
 to no particular order of architecture, but, like him- 
 self, was mutinous and defiant of classification. His 
 jaws, like a rock on a dangerous coast, seemed to pro-
 
 20 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 ject their iron firmness toward those who, during his 
 stormy moods, ventured too near. His eyebrows 
 overhung, like window-caps, his large, keen eyes, 
 which in calm times were a handsome gray, but under 
 excitement grew dark with the enlargement of the 
 pupil. All these features, or rather, this combination 
 of features, which separately were far from comely, com- 
 posed a strong and attractive face. Many even thought 
 him a handsome man, though his vanity w r as not of a 
 sort to be wounded by calling him otherwise. 
 
 His dress was, designedly, so sober, unostentatious 
 and common- place as scarcely to warrant description. 
 Believing that he had thereby reinforced the strong and 
 aggressive temper, the audacity and the enterprise on 
 which he depended for success, he strove to repress, 
 rather than excite attention to his outward personality 
 and surroundings. 
 
 JEe was more than a clever man ; he was a work- 
 man-like man, never shirking the slavish drudgery of 
 details nor disdaining the most trivial assistance. 
 One vote, one man, was one vote or one man more 
 than he could with reasonable diligence afford to lose. 
 He was the most famous party organizer in the coun- 
 try. He put his hand on the vast "machine" and it 
 responded to his touch in Oregon as well as in Con- 
 necticut. He was strong and crafty, with a* faculty 
 for binding to his interests those who most disliked 
 him. When infused by the good humor and high 
 animal spirits of the man, his temper was attractive 
 and almost sunny. Men were drawn to him by an 
 amused interest in his buoyant and unoffending self.
 
 THE COMPLETE LETTER-WRITER. 21 - 
 
 complacency, in his readiness at repartee, in his fund 
 of anecdotes, in his happy dramatic knack at vigorous 
 portrayal of both personage and circumstance. 
 
 Especially diverting was his appearance in farce 
 after taking the principal part in a pretended tragedy. 
 During the heated dehate of Senate Chamber or Rep- 
 resentatives Hall, his voice would be the loudest and 
 hottest in " stirring up " his opponents to indiscre- 
 tion of speech and in denouncing them as state crim- 
 inals deserving of ignominious punishment. In half 
 an hour he would be the center of a roaring group, 
 many of whom, now convulsed with mirth, were the 
 recent victims of his imaginary guillotine and the 
 resuscitated traitors he had unceremoniously hung 
 upon his fictitious gallows. In his private moods 
 almost everybody liked him; in his public attitude 
 he was adored by un thoughtful partisans, careless of 
 all defects and immerging all scruples and criticisms 
 in their admiration for the versatility of his mind 
 and the brilliancy of his resources. He had some- 
 thing of that quality which, in "the bright lexicon" 
 of the American politician, is defined as "magnet- 
 ism," and which if it did not, like charity, cover a 
 multitude of sins, was with many deemed a charm- 
 ing and lively substitute for dull and sober virtues 
 like honesty and truth. 
 
 But for the rich desks and a tall Chinese screen, 
 gaily ornamented with birds, flowers and fishes, his 
 office would have been plainly furnished. 
 
 Half a dozen secretaries were answering letters. 
 Telegrams, some like burglars masked in cipher, some
 
 22 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 like honest men in no need of disguise, \vere flying 
 back and forth over the wires. Party leaders, depu- 
 ties from various leagues, unions, societies and other 
 ''Keely Motors" for making people rich, virtuous and 
 happy, by the turn of a crank or the passage of a law, 
 constantly came and went. Some of his visitors w r ere 
 aggressive and interrupted him; others were modest 
 and waited. His doors were always open, for he 
 believed, with Cicero, that nothing so helps a politi- 
 cian as keeping himself in constant contact with the 
 the crowd. 
 
 On one desk was placed, every morning, a huge 
 stack of circulars, which before night were dispatched 
 by the hundreds to the local representatives of Brew- 
 ster's party, who in turn, mailed them to such persons 
 as, in their judgment, might be influenced thereby. 
 They were lithographed imitations of his hand- writing 
 and read as follows: 
 
 "DEAR SIR : Regretting that circumstances will prevent my 
 having, as I would like to have with so intelligent a person, a per- 
 sonal interview, I can only urge you to activity and vigilance in 
 the promotion of our cause and to assure you that in case of my 
 election, your efforts will not go unrecognized. 
 Very truly, yours, 
 
 AAEON B. BREWSTER." 
 
 A stack of magazines and newspapers for which he 
 said he did n't care a sou-marque, lay upon his own 
 table. It was the duty of one of his secretaries to 
 open them and mark the articles which Brewster 
 would probably like to see. He took up the Western 
 Hemisphere Review and speedily found himself up to 
 his eyes in a sketch of his career.
 
 THE COMPLETE LETTER-WRITER-. 23 
 
 " This man," said the writer in conclusion. " repre- 
 sents the meanness and corruption of our politics, the 
 sordidnessin our national character, and the dishonesty 
 in our national disposition. He is the natural leader of 
 those who, by knavishness as a mob, like to compen- 
 sate themselves for the virtuous self-denial of their in- 
 dividual honesty." 
 
 Brewster slightly flushed as he glanced hastily over 
 it, but, on concluding, murmured: "Lawrence" in 
 a low voice. 
 
 A wing of the screen, which stood near the Major's 
 desk swung half way around, disclosing a small table, 
 on which lay a bunch of nicely sharpened lead pencils 
 and packages of red-lined blank paper for shorthand 
 writing. 
 
 A young man of medium height and somewhat 
 spare of body with keen bright eyes, and quick, ner- 
 vous motion, stepping from behind it came toward 
 Brews ter's desk. 
 
 "Find report between Tapton and me!" 
 
 " Do you remember what year? " 
 
 " Eighteen hundred and seventy-nine." 
 
 Going to the further end of the office, he opened the 
 door of a safe built into the wall, lit the gas inside, 
 and from a collection of bound manuscripts brought 
 away a volume, whose sheets were covered with the 
 odd quirks of a short-hand reporter. 
 
 After rummaging through the book he began read- 
 ing, when the Major stopped him. 
 
 " That is enough; I remember it." 
 
 The young man went back into his rudimentary
 
 24 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 closet, and at his table, of course, could hear all that 
 went on in the room. Moreover, visitors had to sit 
 next the screen, and the Major's desk was so broad 
 that they were obliged to speak loud, enabling the 
 reporter to hear them. But in these interviews he 
 never took down Major Brewster's words, unless that 
 gentleman began his sentence with a slight "Ahem!" 
 The Major dictated to his secretary, Lawrence Dan- 
 forth, the following letter as " points " for an editorial 
 in his party journal "The Orb of Day:" 
 
 "Sir: One Charles Tapton has seen fit in the ' Western Hemis- 
 phere Review ' to attack me with the grossest scurrility. It pre^ 
 tends to be the organ of the so-called cultured and respectable 
 people the high-toned, kid-gloved, and tea-table aristocrats who 
 fatten themselves on the interest of the debts which the people 
 have to pay. As you might expect, therefore, it is the receptacle in- 
 to which hired scribblers empty the sewerage of their minds when 
 disappointment or envy prompts them to attack decent people. 
 
 In an interview with me this man said : 
 
 " 'There's too much timidity in our politics. We need a man 
 who will pry into, shake down and tear up everything, no matter 
 how much dust it raises. We need a national house-cleaning from 
 garret to cellar. There are some departments so rotten that a vig- 
 orous kick will knock them all to pieces. You are not afraid to 
 give it. We need more red life-blood in our politics. The cares 
 and burdens of the multitude are neglected. You are their natural 
 champion. Go on bravely and you will win your reward.' 
 
 " Then he asked me for his, which was an appointment to St. Pe- 
 tersburg. I told him it was too early to make promises ; that it 
 was n't well to buy the tiger's skin until after you had killed the 
 tiger. I understand that he has since had an offer from the other 
 side. If he desires proof of all this, he shall be accommodated at 
 any time. 
 
 " Respectfully yours 
 
 " AARON B. BREWSTER.'' 
 
 All this was true in the main, and yet not exact- 
 ly true. For many years Tapton had been a warm
 
 THE COMPLETE LETTER- WRITER. 25 
 
 admirer of Brewster, and had written eulogistic books 
 and magazine articles about him. Having at last 
 lost faith in the Major, and done a good deal of harm 
 in his day by setting up such an idol for popular wor- 
 ship, he thought it was high time to change his demi- 
 god back into a demagogue. In quoting him, Brewster 
 had perverted his words. He did indeed say that the 
 country needed such a man, but he did not say that 
 Brewster was the man, though perhaps he meant it, and 
 on Brewster's asking him why he didn't get an appoint- 
 ment to the Berlin, Paris or London mission, he said 
 he wanted to go to St. Petersburg, if anywhere, for 
 the sake of studying the Russian people. 
 
 Lawrence, having copied the letter into ordinary 
 writing, 'put it into the mail box alongside of fifty more. 
 
 In the meantime Brewster ran his eye over several 
 newspapers which had been hostile to his nomination. 
 Their editors were sitting dow r n to that intellectual re- 
 past known in American politics as " eating crow," 
 which consists in either impudently ignoring what 
 you once solemnly pronounced the truth about a pub- 
 lic man; impudently explaining that you abused him 
 while laboring under a delusion about his real charac- 
 ter; or that the triumph of the party and its meas- 
 ures is of far more importance than the "mere char- 
 acter" of its leaders. 
 
 A griin smile played lightly over the face of the 
 veteran politician, as he read: 
 
 " When there are blows to give, the blow of the ' Daily Bugle' is 
 the clearest of the clarion notes which ring out for our ancient lib- 
 erties and the old Constitution. But we must face vital issues.
 
 26 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 On a careful examination of the charges we once felt compelled to 
 bring against our gallant standard-bearer, we find that we were 
 misled," etc. 
 
 Presently lie knit his brows at the " Eed Pine Bum- 
 ble-Bee," buzzing away in a thriving Colorado town, 
 and intimating, with charming Western candor and 
 Shakspearean wealth of scurrility, that no convention 
 could make its editor retract a word he had ever ut- 
 tered in regard to its candidate; he "would sooner be 
 kicked to the bottom of the deepest gulch in Colo- 
 rado by an army mule;" "that no sickly galoot of a 
 politician" could make him " bend the knee before 
 the ugly idol after which our party has gone astray." 
 
 " We speak only within bounds and with a full sense of our re- 
 sponsibility, when we call him a boil on his party's nose, a sty in 
 its eye, a rotten tooth in its jaw, a green-apple ache in its stomach 
 a hornet in its councils, and a pumpkin -Ian tern in its campaigns. 
 He infests the party as trichinae infest a ham, and undermines its 
 constitution like a blast of malaria from a morass," etc., etc. 
 
 Ordinarily, Brewster would have paid no attention 
 to an article of this sort; but it represented a western 
 politician of considerable influence who had been high 
 in the councils of his party, and had several times 
 come into collision with Brewster. Its " vigor" had 
 attracted notice also, and it was having a free run in the 
 newspapers. 
 
 " Lawrence," said the Major, handing a memoran- 
 dum, " look this man up! " 
 
 Lawrence went again to the safe, and picking out a 
 large blank book, turned to a check on a Chicago bank 
 signed " Maurice Tatem." Thereupon Brewster dic- 
 tated to Danforth the following:
 
 THE COMPLETE LETTER- WRITER. 27 
 
 "DEAR SIR: I see that a paper under your control continues 
 hostile to Major Brewster. The Major, as I happen to know, has 
 in his possession a check once signed by yourself in another man's 
 name. This harmless scribbling on a certain kind of paper creates 
 a good deal of prejudice in some quarters, and is punishable by 
 strict seclusion from the society of one's fellow creatures for a term 
 of years. Allow me, as a friend, to suggest that Brewster's prudence 
 in preventing this paper from falling into hostile hands, may per- 
 haps modify the views of his character and political career which 
 are attributed to your inspiration. If history is not at fault, short- 
 ly after this check was discovered and made good by your friends, 
 you went to Colorado to ' cure your asthma.'' 
 
 " To the Hon. THOMAS MC!NTYRE, 
 
 " Red Pine, Colorado." 
 
 "Sign your own name to that, Lawrence," said 
 Brewster. " That Bee will stop stinging and go to 
 making honey." 
 
 A succeeding issue justified Brewster's prophecy. 
 A copy of it was sent to him with the following arti- 
 cle marked at the top, the bottom, and along the sides, 
 so that it could by no manner of means be over- 
 looked: 
 
 " We have received information, from the very highest sources, 
 that compels us as an honest man to retract what we have hereto- 
 fore said about the eminent candidate of our glorious old party. 
 We are assured that he is entirely sound on the main question. In 
 critical times mere personal prejudices must give way to the good 
 of the party. We are glad to sacrifice our private feelings on its 
 altar," etc., etc. 
 
 Brewster's faint smile was almost constant as he 
 went over column after column of praise from old 
 friends and old foes. Suddenly a thunder-cloud over- 
 spread his face: 
 
 "By the Lord," said he, "that fellow doesn't
 
 28 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 know whom be 's dealing with. I have spared him 
 long enough. Lawrence," he cried, almost explosively. 
 
 Lawrence arose, afraid lest he had committed some 
 blunder, until Brewster's order re-assured him: 
 
 " Bring me the Tickler '! " 
 
 Danforth brought a tin-box, fastened by a trusty 
 lock, forBrewster allowed no one but himself to handle 
 " The Tickler." He took from the box a scrap-book, 
 filled with photographic copies of various documents 
 threads and webs of evidence, which, in this world 
 of sins and follies, get unsuspectedly woven into peo- 
 ple's lives, sometimes pushing them to despair and 
 suicide, or desperation and murder. 
 
 His anger was aroused by Congressman Rodney 
 from the 42nd district of New York, who, in a lively 
 speech/had been dissecting Brewster's political biog- 
 raphy, and making sport of his inconsistencies. It 
 was one of the sensations of the hour, and angered 
 Brewster all the more, because he understood that such 
 a speech was far more damaging than mere abuse. 
 
 "With the swiftness of an actor writing imaginary 
 letters in a play, he scratched oif a note to a friend of 
 Rodney's: 
 
 I see Rodney has undertaken to attack me in 
 public. I do not object to fair criticism, but when it coraes to 
 personalities, I propose to make it uncomfortable for anybody that 
 likes that style of controversy. There is a Turkish proverb ' He 
 who steals the Sultan's hen will return it to him a cow.' Tell him 
 for me that I have a photographic copy of a certain hotel register, 
 by which it appears, that Mr. R. S. Rodney and wife occupied 
 Room No. 33, Monster Hotel, New York, Dec. 30th, 1877. As
 
 THE COMPLETE LETTER-WRITER. 29 
 
 Mrs. Rodney was 500 miles from that city on that 30th of Decem- 
 ber, perhaps he may be less free with personalities if he reflects 
 how easily she might be agitated by a few words from 
 "Yours truly, 
 
 "AARON B. BREWSTER." 
 "To JAMES BIZMOTH, Esq." 
 
 Three days afterward Rodney repeated his caustic 
 speech almost within Brewsters hearing, and in the 
 meanwhile sent him the following reply: 
 
 " DEAR BREWSTER: I see you are taking a fatherly interest in 
 my domestic affairs. I have been an orphan for over thirty years, 
 and it is a comfort to feel there 's one willing to follow my foot- 
 steps with such vigilance and to guide them into the paths of 
 righteousness. I hope you will keep those documents and read 
 them whenever you want to relieve yourself of the wear and tear 
 of statesmanship. Let them remain as I do, 
 
 "Yours, 
 
 " RODNEY. 
 
 '' P. S. IVFrs. R. has been dead these three months." 
 
 " Rodney 's pretty sharp for a rattlehead," said Brew- 
 ster to himself. " It is useless to get into a rage with 
 him. ' Dost thou well to be angry with this gourd ?' " 
 
 Brewster had even more respect for him, when, after 
 the election, he heard that Rodney's wife was, after all, 
 alive and hearty, and that Rodney's postscript had 
 duped him. However, this was a rare experience, 
 and only added new variety to a much diversified life. 
 
 These matters disposed of, he again took up the 
 " Hemisphere Review," an dread the article more care- 
 fully : 
 
 " Major Aaron B. Brewster, the smartest man in the United 
 States, as his friends delight to call him, has fairly won this high- 
 est title to nobility which is conferred in the American Republic ;
 
 30 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 for, in order to attain that honor, it is necessary to gain success 
 rather than to deserve it. He is an excellent reformer out of office ; 
 a public-spirited patriot on the stump. 
 
 "What Tie does with impunity would hopelessly bury ordinary 
 men ; but he never winces at his failures. Proofs of his tamper- 
 ing with votes ; proofs of mercantile transactions in which his 
 partners nearly always end by denouncing him, in words more or 
 less carefully chosen, as a swindler, seem in no way to diminish his 
 popularity, or at least his control of the party machine. 
 
 "It has been charged that his deciding vote in a congressional 
 committee granted rich subsidies to a railroad running through an 
 Arizona desert, and that he was subsequently found possessed of 
 a large ' block ' of its bonds. The evidence, contained in certain 
 compromising letters, he wrested from the man who held them. 
 According to one story, Brewster choked him into insensibility; 
 according to others, he went down upon his knees, and, with tears 
 in his eyes, begged for their surrender. The favorite version de- 
 scribes him as resorting to strangulation when begging proved 
 useless. Escape from the mesh of testimony woven about him, be- 
 coming at last impossible, he adopted the device of Richelieu in 
 the play, and pretended that he was dying from the excessive 
 agony into which these unholy persecutions had thrown him. .It 
 was noticed, however, that soon after the public cried, ' let up on 
 him; do not harrass a dying man,' he grew as high-colored and 
 bumptious as ever. Whenever entangled in some of the difficul- 
 ties that embarrass smart men, he invariably rises to the occasion 
 and exposes the vile conspiracies of the other side. His worshipers 
 in the party press applaud him with Hindoo servility and Persian 
 extravagance. His very latest speech is always the most powerful 
 ever delivered by the illustrious orator; his arguments are always 
 'weighty;' his eloquence 'fiery;' his ' invective scathing;' his im- 
 pudence 'brilliant.' 
 
 " In Brewsters's opinion the righteousness of a cause depends 
 upon the number of votes it can secure. He believes in the omnis- 
 cience of his party's majority. If that majority can not touch truth 
 at the bottom of any conceivable well of human knowledge, ' who 
 can? That 's what he 'd like to know.' This nonsense about the 
 study of history, law, finance, and the science of government is
 
 THE COMPLETE LETTER-WRITER. 31 
 
 worthy of'a European despotism ! Votes can be tallied and counted. 
 that is plain. But this overhauling the records of the past and 
 digging up the experience of dead men, ' can you put that into a 
 ballot box. copy it on to a tally-sheet election night, and ascer- 
 tain eternal truth before sunrise? ' 
 
 "As the representative of an omniscient party majority, Brew- 
 ster can do no wrong, and needs no conscience. He has an infal- 
 lible spiritual director in the political almanacs. As it was useless 
 at Rome arguing with the master of forty legions, so a dis- 
 cussion with Brewster, if he has a thumping majority behind him, 
 is a pure waste of time. Like that celebrated Englishman, when 
 his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it. 
 An American philosopher once declared that one with the Almighty 
 is a majority, but in Brewster's scheme of the universe, one with 
 the majority is the Almighty, or at least the ' smartest man in the 
 United States,' which, in his opinion, is almighty near it," etc., etc. 
 
 How much truth there was in this brief biography 
 it is difficult to say. Its style and method are what, 
 the world over, is known as "politics;" and, as such, 
 it must stand for what it is worth. His opponents 
 believed every word of it or tried to. His friends 
 and supporters paid the homage which vice owes to 
 virtue, by declaring that it was a " campaign slander " 
 upon a man trying to do his duty and serve his coun- 
 try. And the most of them believed that or tried to. 
 
 Brewster disdained finishing the article, but tossed 
 the magazine contemptuously to one side. 
 
 " Pshaw! " said he, " I am a fool to call attention to 
 it. Most of those who see it, will vote against me 
 in any event. I can't afford to advertise it." 
 
 Going to the letter box, he picked out his communi- 
 cation to the " Orb of Day," and tore it into fragments. 
 
 "I. must run down to Roxbury," he said, and, 
 summoning Danforth, in a few minutes was whirling 
 out of the city.
 
 32 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE MAJOR'S AGRICULTURAL TASTES. 
 
 As they rattled along, the passengers from the 
 other cars came out at intervals upon the platform, 
 and, through the broad panes of the drawing-room 
 coach, stared at the celebrated candidate. The rumor 
 of his journey, as rumors will, mysteriously spread, 
 and, at each station, travelers and idlers, in hopes of 
 catching a glimpse of him, drifted toward the rear of 
 the train. The bolder attempted pushing into the car, 
 but found their patriotism thwarted by the conductor. 
 Major Brewster, always alert, observed it, and, step- 
 ping out npon the platform of the car, bowed, shook 
 hands, and, when time allowed, made brief speeches, 
 which were purposely full of sound and fury, signify- 
 ing nothing. 
 
 Ostensibly to chat with a legal acquaintance, really 
 to gratify the curiosity of his fellow travelers, lie 
 finally went forward; whereupon a procession be- 
 gan moving past him through the aisle, 'and an al- 
 most endless chain, the links consisting of a line of 
 eyes that, staring, emerged through one door, and, 
 staring, disappeared through the other, passed before 
 him, and of which the imperturbable Major did not 
 appear to be in the slightest degree conscious.
 
 THE MAJOR'S AGRICULTURAL TASTES. 33 
 
 Near the rear of the column, and with a partially 
 embarrassed and yet eager air, straggled an elderly 
 man, clad, notwithstanding the heat, in a new and ill- 
 fitting broadcloth suit, and an outer envelope of dark 
 drab "duster." On entering the car he awkwardly re- 
 moved his hat, displaying a distinct demarcation be- 
 tween his bald, bleached forehead and the russet hue 
 with which the wind and sun had stained him. 
 
 There was a perplexed hesitation in his walk, and 
 he looked at Major Brewster with anxiety and in- 
 quisitiveness which, though doubtful of recognition, 
 was tempered by an apparent consciousness of his 
 proper claims to the great man's notice. His doubts 
 were quickly dispelled ; for the Major, catching sight 
 of him, arose, extended his hand, and motioning him 
 to a seat by his side, exclaimed: 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Sampson! An unexpected pleasure. 
 You 're a good ways from home." 
 
 The tall, large-boned man, nervously shuffling his 
 chocolate-colored glazed straw hat from one hand to 
 another, dropped into the seat. 
 
 "And how are those peaches?" exclaimed Major 
 Brewster, in a hearty tone. " I haven't forgotten the 
 taste of them yet. You got your appropriation for 
 your horticultural society?" 
 
 Under this subtle flattery, the face of Mr. Sampson 
 who came from the " peach belt " of western Mich- 
 gan, and was believed to hold the " granger vote " of 
 that State in the hollow of his hand glowed like one 
 of his own pumpkins in an October sun. It was a mild 
 countenance enough, with its bronze and its wrinkles, 
 3
 
 34 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 and belonged to a man who, outside of politics, was as 
 mellow and juicy as the fruit he cultivated. But on the 
 former subject he was as amiable towards his opponents 
 as an " able editor" discussing the merits of an " es- 
 teemed co temporary." 
 
 " Well, well," he replied, flattered quite out of his 
 embarrassment, " who 'd'a' thought you'd remembered 
 so long? It must 'a' been eight or was it nine years 
 ago!" 
 
 " Nine years, next September," said Brews ter. " By 
 the way, I must send you some illustrations of Jap- 
 anese fruit culture; you '11 find them interesting if not 
 useful;" and he made a memorandum. 
 
 " Much obleeged, I'm sure. As to that 'propria- 
 tion " 
 
 " O, was n't it enough ! "Well, we '11 double it one 
 of these days, once we break down this national bank 
 monopoly." 
 
 " Yes, that's the fust thing to be done," said Mr. 
 Sampson. " Was read in' that last speech of your'n 
 comin' 'long on the cars. It's jes' chain-lightnin'. 
 Hain't been so warmed up these ten year. That 
 Joslyn's needed a good hetchelin' this many a day. 
 Ye sot him down hard/" 
 
 " Oh yes," said Brewster, "I was sent to the Senate 
 to look after him, and I tried to carry out my part of 
 the contract." 
 
 "Well, ye did! The ole rascal! Don't see why 
 't is the Lord 'lows such scoundrels to get into Con- 
 gress. S'pose they sneak in, when they think He 
 ain't lookin'. Joslyn and his party want to rush the
 
 THE MAJOR'S AGRICULTURAL TASTES. 35 
 
 country to the devil by express train and sen' the bill 
 in to us. They 're fuller o' cussedness than a piller o' 
 feathers, / b'leeve." 
 
 " Yes," assented Brewster, " they 'd change our form 
 of government, in the twinkling of an eye, if our 
 people should only shut theirs as long. We have to 
 keep wide awake." 
 
 " That ye have," said Mr. Sampson, " and .ye keep 
 them wide awake, too, I notice. You show 'em up in 
 their true colors." 
 
 " Thank you ! Mr. Sampson, I only try to do my 
 duty." 
 
 " 1 was jess tickled to death, where ye turned on 
 him and said if he carried out his infernal schemes, 
 he 'd be the fust to hang high'r'n Hamen. I swon, I 
 b'leeve I'd like to see him strung up, even if I am a 
 deakin. I don't see how you stan' it to sit there and 
 hear 'em talk such treason ; favorin' the bankers at 
 the expense of the agricultooral classes, and tryin' every 
 way they can think of to make it hard for poor folks 
 to get along." 
 
 " It 's as much as I can do to control myself, some- 
 times," said Brewster ; " but we must keep cool, you 
 know. Rashness might spoil everything." 
 
 ".It 's askin' a good deal o' human natur' not to 
 want to shut 'em up for good 'n all." 
 
 " Yes," assented Brewster, solemnly, " they 're dan- 
 gerous men. I tremble sometimes, when I think of 
 what would happen if they should carry the election." 
 
 " I hope ye '11 get in a lick at Joslyn, every time 
 there's a chance. He 's the boss rascal. Sometimes
 
 36 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 after readin' his abuse of our folks, I feel 'z if he 'd 
 stay in bed a month after I 'd got done with him," 
 said this peaceful and law-abiding citizen. 
 
 " You were coming to see me, of course," said Ma- 
 jor Brewster, getting tired of this. 
 
 " Well, yes, I had thought of it, but I s'pose you 
 don't have much time to spare," said Sampson, mod- 
 estly. 
 
 " Have all the time there is, as the saying goes. 
 Is Mrs. Sampson with you ?" he asked cordially. 
 
 " I left her over to Dilbury. She comes from about 
 here, p'raps ye reck'lect." 
 
 " Yes, yes she was a a liurlbut." 
 
 At this Sampson beamed once more. 
 
 " Why didn 't you bring her with you ?" added Brew- 
 ster, in such tones of regret that Sampson felt as if 
 his neglect had hurt Brewster's hospitable feelings. 
 " Miss Winifred would have been delighted to see her. 
 Can't you send for her now ?" 
 
 " Well, I dunno but I can." 
 
 "Of course you can! Bring her down to dinner to- 
 morrow ! She's one woman in a thousand for good 
 sense." 
 
 Mr. Sampson smiled almost aloud, and after some 
 further talk about the " chances " in Michigan, went 
 away, resolving that Brewster should have every 
 " granger vote " at his command. 
 
 This talent for remembering names and faces form- 
 ing so great an element of success in American poli- 
 tics was Brewster's natural gift carefully cultivated, 
 and never suffered to lie useless. His memory rarely
 
 THE MAJOR'S AGRICULTURAL TASTES. 37 
 
 balked at any reasonable chasm of time or space across 
 which he spurred it. Carroll once said he was as great 
 a human curiosity as those colored waiters at the ho- 
 tels who never blunder in handing the right hat to the 
 guests coming out of the dining-room. " I'm afraid," 
 he added, laughingly, " that if Brewster should ever 
 be so unlucky, he would commit suicide, as one of the 
 fellows with a hat-memory once did at Saratoga, for 
 having, in a moment of temporary aberration, handed 
 a soft broad-brim felt to the managing director of an 
 English railway, who never in his life wore anything 
 but a * stove-pipe.' " 
 
 Brewster came out especially strong also, in his deal- 
 ings with the agriculturists, lie had spent his youth 
 on a Vermont farm, from which, in detestation of the 
 drudgery, he escaped at the earliest practicable day. 
 As soon as his fortune permitted, however, he bought 
 and operated a hundred acres at a large annual loss in 
 money, but with much profit as a luxury and recrea- 
 tion. His general knowledge .of agriculture was of 
 great service to him on the "off years" of politics 
 his addresses at. State fairs and cattle-shows being, 
 next to the "hoss-trots," their most attractive feature. 
 
 The train drew up at the Roxbury station, and the 
 Major, quickly alighting, and followed by his private 
 secretary, made his way to the other side, where a dull- 
 looking, modest barouche with a shining pair of grays 
 attached, awaited his coming. An intelligent, sweet- 
 tempered young face, with tender brown eyes and 
 finely molded features, smiled at him a delighted 
 welcome.
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " You always telegraph at the very last moment, 
 papa. I had scarcely time to get here," said a low, well 
 modulated voice, to which people, charmed with its 
 sweetness, often listened for the mere pleasure of hear- 
 ing it. 
 
 " I never know I'm coming until the very last mo- 
 ment," he said, kissing her heartily and entering the 
 carriage, which, after Danforth had ensconced himself 
 on the front seat, went off at a rapid pace; the idle 
 crowd watching it until it had crossed the open space, 
 behind the station and disappeared around the corner. 
 
 " By the way, Winifred," said her father, " I have 
 invited a Michigan gentleman with his wife to dinner 
 to-morrow. He is engaged in the honorable but not 
 elegant pursuit of providing the Chicago markets with 
 Early Crawfords; I can't promise you a rare intellectual 
 feast,- but I should like to have you look especially to 
 the dinner, and see that it leaves an impression which 
 will last till next November, at least. Will you 
 remember?" 
 
 Winifred had laid other plans for the following day, 
 but at once renouncing them, replied, smiling, at the 
 double significance of her words: 
 
 u It sha'n't be forgotten."
 
 THE MAJOR AT HOME. 39 
 
 CHAPTEE Y. 
 THE MAJOR AT HOME. 
 
 BOXBDRY, where Brewster began his career, and still 
 supervised his business, had, within his own recollection 
 grown from a small Connecticut village, scattered 
 along the banks of a full and rapid stream, to a man- 
 ufacturing city of 15,000 inhabitants, the enterprise 
 of which had obliterated many of the old landmarks 
 in the streets through which he drove to his home. 
 
 His handsomely groomed gray span and the unpre- 
 tentious carriage turned, after a half-mile ride, into a 
 roadway laid out across a smooth, inclined lawn, and 
 halted at the steps of a red brick house with a modest 
 tower. A broad veranda, surrounding three sides, 
 long projecting windows on the western exposure, and 
 large clear plate-glass lights, gave it a luxurious yet 
 home-like aspect. It was divided by a hall running 
 the length of the house; a long parlor and a smaller 
 one on one side a library, dining-room, and sitting- 
 room on tne other. On the library side was a wing, 
 which he devoted to the transaction of business. The 
 well-shorn lawn sloped toward the main road, while 
 elms and locusts softened without obscuring the view 
 of river and street.
 
 40 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 In accordance with her promise, Winifred was at 
 home the next day, and, on their arrival, did her best 
 to make her father's guests feel so. The dinner-table, 
 with its glacial linen and glistening .service, was set 
 in a cool dark dining-room, as if it might have been 
 a caliph's feast in the depths of a grotto. In the 
 middle of the polished inlaid floor lay a rug of Ori- 
 ental lines and pattern. The walls were chastely tinted 
 of palest bird's egg blue, with tracery of gilt. Richly 
 carved chairs, covered with Russia leather, were placed 
 around the table. On the doors of the side-board 
 sculptured ducks and partridges shone rich in the 
 dark wood. The moisture of the sultry air had con- 
 verted the ice-cold tankard into a beaker of frosted 
 silver. Round silver trays stood, like shields, in a 
 row on the shelf above, and shone like mirrors under 
 the few scattered rays of sunlight which seemed to 
 seek, in this coolness, shelter from their own hot dis- 
 comfort. Two or three landscapes in oil hung upon 
 the walls a buffalo hunt; deers, feeding on the lily 
 pads in a mountain lake; and a busy scene of hay- 
 makers gathering the hay, while a storm loomed dark 
 in the west and already obscured the sun. This pic- 
 ture was regarded as special proof that the Major was 
 a friend of the laboring classes and the leader of the 
 toiling millions. He called Mr. Sampson's attention 
 to it, and asked him if it did not remind him of " St. 
 Joe " county. 
 
 But in the room and through the house there was a 
 studied moderation, which seemed to stand guard
 
 THE MAJOR AT HOME. 41 
 
 against the intrusion of any loud, unsubdued, and vul- 
 gar offspring of raw and sordid pride. 
 
 From the dining-room one caught, through a wide 
 archway, glimpses of the library, of its tiers of open 
 cases, and of the luxuriant mosaic of the books in 
 many-hued muslin and creamy leather. Their owner 
 was an enormous reader, with a memory like a pho- 
 nograph's. 
 
 He was not a glutton, or an epicure, but lived ra- 
 tionally; he liked nourishing soups, and nice white 
 bread, and well-chosen, well-cooked meats. He drank 
 delicate and expensive wines, but he drank sparingly. 
 He abstained from over-indulgence in tobacco and 
 from low vices. He was too busy and too eager in his 
 pursuit of great prizes for riotous excess. He knew 
 too well the value of a clear head. 
 
 Opposite him at the table, sat his daughter; the de- 
 light of her father's eyes, the pride of her father's heart. 
 Those who knew him only by his roughness and inso- 
 lence, little dreamed of the -well-spring of affection 
 which flowed for her in the depths of his rocky nature. 
 Her intelligent brown eyes looked softly out from 
 under her long eyelashes. Her dark brown waving hair 
 was rolled in great swaths about her well-shaped head 
 which crowned a tall and graceful figure; and when 
 her generally pale complexion grew rosy under excite- 
 ment, or the cold of a winter's day, she was the hand- 
 some type of a bright and well-endowed American 
 girl. But, being by no means robust, it was her father's 
 constant care to protect her from all that would harass 
 or expose her. Her mother having died when she was
 
 42 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 two years old, he had devoted to her nurture and edu- 
 cation his tenderest and most intelligent thought. 
 
 The only time this cast-iron man was ever known to 
 blush was at the flattery of an old woman who said, 
 u Winifred looks like her par." As a matter of fact, 
 they looked, when together, like a scraggy cactus with 
 one beautiful blossom, whose beauty, in contrast with 
 the harshness and prickliness of the plant, was all the 
 more striking. The poor blest her for her tender con- 
 sideration of them, the rich for her amiable generos- 
 ity, unspoiled by luxury and homage. 
 
 "There is nothing like farming, nothing in the 
 world," said Brewster to Mr. Sampson, as they sat at 
 dinner. " It is true independence. I'd give all I am 
 worth, if my son would take an axe in his hand and 
 clear up a farm as you did. It 's a hundred times bet- 
 ter than the best Government office going. If there's 
 anything makes me melancholy, it is to see the young 
 men throughout this land so anxious for an office and 
 so ambitious for these empty prizes in politics." 
 
 " I have n't heard so much square sense to the acre 
 since I left St. Joe," said Mr. Sampson. 
 
 " That 's what I keep telling our boys," said Mrs. 
 Sampson, simply, "but they turn 'round and say: 
 ' Pooh, ma! you don't know what you are talking 
 about. Do you suppose smart men like Mr. Brew- 
 ster and Senator Joslyn don't know what 's worth 
 having? Why did n't they stay farmers, if it 's as nice 
 as it 's cracked up to be?" 
 
 Mr. Sampson, horrified at his wife's boldness, prom- 
 ised himself, almost for the first time in his life, to
 
 THE MAJOR AT HOME. 43 
 
 call her to account. But Brewster only laughed, and 
 said: 
 
 "That's the way it looks to outsiders, of course; 
 but if they could only see the thing from the inside 
 they would agree with me." 
 
 " It 's 'cordin' to sukkumstances," said Mr. Sampson, 
 apologetically. 
 
 And Winifred came to the rescue of her father, by 
 saying, with a certain refined heartiness that always 
 conquered people: 
 
 " Mrs. Sampson does n't look as if she were greatly 
 troubled about her boys." 
 
 "No, they're very good boys," she replied; "but 
 father and I have always tried to make home attract- 
 ive, and let them have their own way on the farm a 
 good deal. They have horses and buggies, and we 
 take some of the magazines and buy books. I says 
 to father, years ago, ' times are changing, and we 
 must change with them.' " 
 
 " I should not think they viould want to go away," 
 said Winifred, very kindly and sincerely. 
 
 " Yes, that's the way," said Brewster; "keep the 
 boys on a farm, and if you have money, make it at- 
 tractive for them. There 's that ' Tally-ho' coaching 
 club in N*ew York, driving six horses and blowing a 
 brass bugle. They 're young men of wealth, culture 
 and college education, who have nothing in the world 
 to do, and do it every day. .They 're the worst kind 
 of tramps. They toil not, neither do they spin. If 
 any of them were my boys, or if I had the power in 
 New York, I would set that class of men to doing ex-
 
 44 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 actly what they have shown themselves fit for to drive 
 a Broadway coach from six in the morning until nine 
 in the evening, so they would have enough of playing 
 coachman ; or better yet, I would give them a turn at 
 plowing, mowing and threshing." 
 
 Mr. Sampson listened eagerly, drinking in every 
 word, and resolving to report this speech at the next 
 meeting of the "grange," and have it published in 
 the St. Joe " Fruit Basket." It would make hundreds 
 of votes for Brewster. 
 
 Dinner finished, they retired to the sitting-room, 
 which, on one side, opened upon the veranda, on the 
 other into the library. They were hardly seated before 
 a card bearing a visitor's name was brought in, and 
 the Major, excusing himself, withdrew to the library, 
 into which the visitor had been shown. 
 
 He carefully closed the door, as he supposed, but 
 the wind blew it slightly ajar, which, sitting with his 
 back to it, he did not notice. The talk between "Win- 
 ifred and Mrs. Sampson drifting into household mat- 
 ters, Sampson lost interest, and, being near the door, 
 had his attention diverted to the voices in the library, 
 so that almost before he knew it he found himself a 
 steady and interested listener. 
 
 The Major, greeting his guest with familiar cor- 
 diality, asked him if he had been to dinner. On the 
 score of never dining in the middle of the day, he de- 
 clined the invitation. 
 
 " Try a little champagne, then," said Brewster ; " I 
 had a Michigan granger to dinner, and they 're a little 
 risky on the liquor question. I '11 join you in a glass 
 now."
 
 THE MAJOR AT HOME. 45 
 
 " Thank you ! I don't want your champagne. If 
 you 've got some Bourbon handy, p'r'aps I can get 
 away with a little," he said with a chuckle. " I 'in 
 just over an attack of the { epizoot,' and it may be that 's 
 the very thing for me." 
 
 " You J re quite welcome," said Brewster, ringing 
 the bell ; " but I can put my digestive apparatus to 
 better use than burning it out with whiskey." 
 
 " O, nonsense! D' ye suppose the Almighty would 
 make whiskey and not make stomachs for it! How- 
 ever, I can 't stay long. I 'm down to see you about 
 those ' Pinafore' shares! They 've had bad luck out 
 there, I s'pose you know, and I 'm a good deal mixed 
 about it. Silver 's going to be skittish, especially if 
 you fellows get your innings. You may have my 
 check for a thousand for a choice of give or take, three 
 days from date." 
 
 " Well well well," said Brewster,'reflectively and 
 confidentially, " we 've stood by each other through all 
 kinds of rough weather in the ' Pinafore,' and it 's 
 quite unaccountable your present attitude. I feel as 
 uncertain as you do about the prospect, but that 's no 
 reason why I should try to throw it on to your shoul- 
 ders. I am disappointed in you. Robert, bring us 
 some cigars," he said, as the servant put the decanter 
 on the table. 
 
 " I know, and I 'm sorry," said the other, " but I 'm 
 carrying too much sail." 
 
 " O if it 's any accommodation," said Brewster, good- 
 naturedly, " I '11 take it off your hands. You 've done 
 me a good turn before now."
 
 46 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " Thank you! " replied Joslyn; " I '11 hold on a little 
 while longer; but if you hear of anybody that '11 buy, 
 I'll be pretty sure to sell. Another thing; Parsons 
 won't settle that claim without legal proceedings. 
 I 'm convinced of that. And I thought if we could 
 bring a joint suit, it would save time and expense." 
 
 There followed upon this a long conference, and then 
 Joslyn, dismissing business, asked: * 
 
 " Well, how are things? " 
 
 " O, lively, lively! " said Brewster. " Going to your 
 usual place this summer?" 
 
 " Family 's going. I 've got .to stand Bandy's antics 
 all summer. They 've made him secretary of the Na- 
 tional Committee again, you know, and he's always 
 fawnin' and pawin' over you, and actin' 's if he want- 
 ed to sit in your lap, like the donkey in JEsop's Fa- 
 bles." 
 
 " He 's better than he used to be years ago, when he 
 was my private secretary and clerk of my committee," 
 said Brewster. " But he was so useful and knew the 
 ropes, I could n't let him go." 
 
 " That 's the deuce of it," said Senator Joslyn. " The 
 infernal little fool knows, almost without looking, how 
 every county in the Union 's gone the last twenty-five 
 
 years. He's d indispensable; that's the worst 
 
 of it. He can figger so all-fired close, you 've got to 
 stand him. Bet you a hat I'll know your own State 
 canvass better 'n you will, two weeks before election." 
 
 " I never bet," said Brewster, turning the subject. 
 " Did I ever tell you how Bandy broke the bad news 
 to his uncle?"
 
 THE MAJOR AT HOME. 47 
 
 " Guess not," replied Joslyn, re-lighting his cigar. 
 
 u His uncle in Cincinnati had the heart disease, and 
 so had his son, Bandy's cousin. The son died in 
 Richmond, I believe, and Bandy was badly puzzled 
 how to let the old man know, so that the shock would n't 
 be fatal to him. After studying on it awhile, Bandy 
 telegraphed to his uncle : ' Be calm ! George is dead! ' " 
 
 Joslyn laughed one of his own laughs. He took 
 his fun as he did his liquor never sipping it slowly, 
 with a view to getting the full flawr of it and letting 
 it titillate him with a languid trickle; he gulped 
 it. His laugh was not so much a hearty laugh 
 as it was a pulmonary and a bronchial laugh, explod- 
 ing itself in great roars and tumults of gratifica- 
 tion. 
 
 Winifred heard him, and, recognizing the laugh, 
 exclaimed: 
 
 ".Why, that's Senator Joslyn. He and father 
 always have such jolly times together, joking and 
 telling stories. They do so enjoy each other. I must 
 ask him about Kitty and Mrs. Joslyn, she 's such a 
 sweet woman and Kitty is as sensible and kind as can 
 be. We 've been friends for years. I wonder if they 
 are going" to Deer Park this summer." 
 
 Mr. Sampson, with staring eyes and half-open 
 mouth, partially rose from his c'lair, exclaiming: 
 
 " Who who did you say 2" 
 
 " Senator Joslyn," replied Winifred. 
 
 But Sampson said no more, for the visitor, about 
 taking leave of Brews ter, remarked: 
 
 " O, you 're over-confident, as you always are.
 
 48 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 We '11 lay you out and put ice around you, and keep 
 you 's long 's possible, so 's people slia'n't forget you 
 ran for President." 
 
 And Joslyn laughed a laugh a horse might envy. 
 
 " He laughs best who laughs last," said Brewster. 
 
 " We '11 put you in the nine-holes, anyhow," said 
 Joslyn. "We 're going to do a land office business 
 this summer, let me tell you." 
 
 " Excuse me for not nattering you," replied Brew- 
 ster ; " but since old Zach went on to the retired list, 
 there 's nobody to take his place. He had a way of 
 taking the right bower with the left that was hard for 
 an honest man to beat." 
 
 " You'll be beat fair, or not at all," said his visitor, 
 wiping his mouth, brushing the biscuit-crumbs from 
 his lap, and rising to go. " By-the-bye, Kitty wanted 
 me to give a message to Miss Winifred." 
 
 " Step into the parlor and I'll send her," said Brew- 
 ster, entering the room and telling Winifred a gen- 
 tleman wished to see her. 
 
 " O yes," she exclaimed gaily, " Senator Joslyn ! I 
 vant to ask about Kitty and her mother," and excus- 
 ing herself a moment went off. 
 
 Major Brewster knew instinctively that her words 
 were doing mischief. A glance at Sampson's face 
 and the library door told the whole story. 
 
 " Yes, Senator Joslyn," said Brewster, echoing Win- 
 ifred, in a low tone to Sampson. " He 's cunning; as 
 I told you yesterday, you must watch every motion 
 or they '11 trip you up from behind. He came down 
 here under pretense of talking about a law suit and
 
 THE MAJOR AT HOME. 49 
 
 silver mine shares, but wliat he really wanted was to 
 worm out rny plans for the campaign. Luckily he 
 likes stories, and I put him off by telling him or 
 making him tell a lot of them." 
 
 Under the circumstances, this was the best Brew- 
 sted could do, but it was emphatically a case where 
 the best was none too good. A bigot in politics, Mr. 
 Sampson was wholly sincere. Sitting near the fatal 
 door, and hearing the visitor's name, as well as the 
 evidence of the family intimacy, he began, like people 
 during an earth-quake, to feel as if the foundation of 
 things were breaking up. His pas tor, the Rev. Mr. 
 Partington, could not have more astounded him, had 
 he risen of a Sunday to affirm that, after amusing him- 
 self with the composition of a cursing Psalm or two, 
 David went off to joke and hob-nob with the Philistines 
 whom he had denounced. 
 
 Brewster's vivid portraits of Joslyn in a long series 
 of public speeches, had made a profound impression 
 upon Sampson's imagination. He had come to regard 
 him and his coterie as the incarnation of the evils 
 from which only by perpetual and desperate vigilance 
 the country was saved. The mention of his name 
 always stirred Sampson's otherwise gentle heart to 
 anger and bitterness. He had never seen Joslyn, and 
 did not want to. Though in his presence the mild-man- 
 nered Sampson would have spoken with bated breath, 
 and moved with bashful agitation, yet he often in- 
 dulged his heated fancy in imaginary encounters with 
 the renowned and wicked Senator, in which, even if 
 no personal violence was done, he saw himself empty - 
 4
 
 50 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 ing upon that bad man's head the vials of wrath which 
 Brewster had filled to overflowing. 
 
 Scarcely twenty-four hours since, Brewster had pre- 
 tended to agree that, for the sake of the country's peace 
 and prosperit}^ the lawful hanging of Joslyn and his 
 " crew" was, if not practicable, pre-eminently desira- 
 ble; while just now he had given the miscreant a more 
 cordial reception than he had bestowed upon himself. 
 He had made him first a peace-offering of champagne, 
 and then a burnt-offering of whisky and cigars. He 
 had heard them enjoying stories at the expense of each 
 other's party friends, and making jokes about the re- 
 sult of the presidential election, which in Sampson's 
 eyes was the most critical the nation had ever entered 
 upon, and an altogether solemn and tragic act of fifty 
 millions of people. It was a sacrilege for men in their 
 position to treat it with such levity. How could 
 Brewster, standing thus on the brink of possible na- 
 tional ruin, joke with one of the men principally re- 
 sponsible for the deadly peril? offering to help him 
 him pecuniarily, and betraying close and confidential 
 business relations with him ? Moreover, their families 
 were on most excellent terms. What right had the 
 daughter of his party leader to be a fond and intimate 
 friend of the daughter of the party leader who was 
 trying to destroy the country? "Was this the way to 
 uphold the pure doctrines of the party? What was it 
 but a kind of unequal yoking of unbelievers which the 
 Bible forbade in religion, and which patriotism ought 
 to forbid in politics. The idea of any of Joslyn 's be- 
 longings his kith or his kin being sweet women
 
 THE MAJOR AT HOME. 51 
 
 and kind hearted and sensible persons, was simply im- 
 possible; and only a defect in moral vision could dis- 
 cover such virtues in such people. 
 
 Sampson felt rather than thought these tilings, and 
 being under the influence of his unusual and impres- 
 sive surroundings, very naturally thought rather than 
 uttered them. 
 
 Shortly after Brewster's explanation, he and Mrs. 
 Sampson took their leave; but these revelations, mar- 
 ring the bloom of earnestness on his political preju- 
 dices, made him a wiser but less enthusiastic partisan 
 than he had ever been before. 
 
 Brewster's remarks about the advantages of agricul- 
 ture and the education of boys, never appeared in the 
 St. Joe "Fruit Basket," and the grangers of Michigan 
 remained ignorant of his many virtues, which, but for 
 this contretemps, they would have learned from an 
 eye-witness. From that day on, Sampson allowed the 
 campaign in his section to " languish." 
 
 "Winifred had unintentionally fulfilled her promise 
 beyond anything she could possibly have dreamed. 
 Mr. Sampson never forgot this dinner.
 
 52 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 AGENTS WANTED-APPLY WITHIN. 
 
 AFTER the representatives of the western agricul- 
 tural interests had departed, her father, hastily scan- 
 ning his daughter's diamonds, bracelets, and pearl 
 necklace, as she sat in the library looking at an illus- 
 trated newspaper, said almost abruptly: 
 
 "Winifred, my dear, I wish you'd dress a little 
 more plainly for the present at least." 
 
 "Why, father!" she exclaimed, looking up sur- 
 prised. " What has 'come over you? You 're always 
 delighted with my toilettes." 
 
 "You shall lose nothing by it," he answered. 
 
 She made no reply. She was fond of her elegance, 
 and knew that it became her. She did not ask him 
 the reason of his suggestion; perhaps she guessed it; 
 perhaps imagined she would get only an evasive 
 or satirical response. Then she thought of his con- 
 stant kindness to her and that, from a father so uni- 
 formly indulgent, even an intrinsically unreasonable 
 request was not unreasonable. 
 
 " I am not afraid of losing anything by it," she said, 
 after a short pause; "and it 's no great sacrifice after 
 all; for it doesn't matter so much what I wear up
 
 AGENTS WANTED APPLY WITHIN. 53 
 
 here. I don't want to give up my ear-drops though ; 
 besides, it 's not safe leaving them around." 
 
 " You can have some gold globes made for them," 
 he said, rising. " It will be only until after election." 
 
 "Why not then?" 
 
 He did not answer directly, and she did not ask 
 again. He muttered something about its being of no 
 importance, then, and left the room for his office. 
 
 In passing through the dining-room he met his only 
 son, a second edition of himself, except that he was 
 short, round, bald, and only thirty years of age. Their 
 mutual likeness provoked a mutual dis-likeness and 
 an armed neutrality between them. 
 
 The young man, sitting down, rang the bell, and 
 ordered the waiter to bring him " some dinner." He 
 wished that, instead of leaning on the back of a chair 
 and watching his movements, " the old man " would 
 leave the room. 
 
 ""Well, Tom," said his father at last, " when are you 
 going to do something?" 
 
 " When I 've finished my dinner." 
 
 "And what are you going to do then?" 
 
 "Play a game of billiards." 
 
 " I want your help this summer." 
 
 "How can I help you?" he exclaimed, in apparent 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Prepare documents, keep me informed of Joslyn's 
 movements, and take charge of a part of the corres- 
 pondence. The boys in the office are overworked, 
 and I do not want to take in any strangers at this late 
 day. Then, too, I don't want these newspaper scrubs
 
 54 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 talking about the luxury and idleness of my family. 
 I want to have it said, ' Brewster practices what he 
 preaches.' " . 
 
 " Then let Brewster preach differently," sneered the 
 young man. 
 
 " That 's nonsense, and you know it. My request is 
 quite reasonable," said his father. 
 
 " Well, if I 'in a judge, it 's preposterous," he an- 
 swered. " What 's the use of wasting time and money 
 in this election flummery? You '11 be licked any way. 
 Why do you want to worry out the rest of your life in 
 this political slew? I would n't give the value of a 
 millionaire's will to be President. I want to enjoy 
 life not make one dem'd grind of it as you do." 
 
 His father was about to remonstrate further, but 
 perhaps realizing the uselessness of it, or not having 
 the time to spare, or recognizing in him some of his 
 own " smartness," took his departure. The young 
 man went_calmly on with his dinner, muttering: 
 
 " The reason I am not afraid of him is because I'm 
 him over again, except that I like champagne and an 
 Havana and a pretty waiter-girl, and he does n't any 
 more than I like his politics. There 's no accounting 
 for tastes. I wish I had his energy, though; I believe 
 I 'd take the stump for the other party. It would fur- 
 nish the newspapers with some mighty interesting 
 reading, and draw bigger crowds than he can. But 
 what 's the use of sweating to save the country, until 
 you 're fit for nothing but a coffin. It seems to me a 
 country that needs so much saving is n't worth it. I 
 never learned to save anything, except trouble, and I 
 sha'n 't beffin now."
 
 AGENTS WANTED APPLY WITHIN. 55 
 
 And lighting a cigar, he walked off, turning abruptly 
 from the library, on seeing his father there, and mak- 
 ing his way to his favorite billiard room down town. 
 
 The " old man's " face, as he paused at the library 
 window and looked at his mill property, grew more 
 cheerful. 
 
 The splendor of the gray stone building, six stories 
 high, a fraction of a mile long, with a dome-sur- 
 mounted tower in the center, recalled the shabby 
 little wooden mill in which, on the same site, his en- 
 terprise began; and, after the manner of a prosperous 
 man he rubbed his hands together. 
 
 The report of the Hoxbury Manufacturing Com- 
 pany, of which he was chief owner and director, had 
 declared its ordinary three per cent, quarterly divi- 
 dend. For many years, "panic" or no "panic" 
 " hard times " or otherwise, it had not failed to pay a 
 profit of from ten to twenty-five per cent, annually; 
 and, had contributed a large share to its owner's pros- 
 perity. 
 
 He had fairly earned it all; for that arduous work 
 of which he was enormously capable, had gone into 
 the improved and economical manufacture of the cel- 
 ebrated "army blue." Its superiority in color and 
 texture was largely due to the Major's twelve and 
 fourteen hours of daily labor, in earlier life; and his 
 patience, industry, and ingenuity, had well rewarded 
 him. 
 
 u By the Lord!" he soliloquized, "how few people 
 can handle a million of dollars! though there 's scarce- 
 ly a donkey but thinks he can. To hear them, one
 
 56 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 would suppose an eight-day puppy could play whist 
 if you only dealt him trumps enough. They seem to 
 think if a man 's worth a million he spends it all on 
 himself. They never imagine that he turns it over, 
 enlarging his business and giving employment to, more 
 people. I started with ten thousand dollars, and em- 
 ployed a dozen hands; now I've a million invested, 
 and hire a thousand. Yet there 's scarcely one of 
 them but think she could run the thing, or hand it over 
 to the government and go to a caucus and elect a man 
 who could run it, for one or two thousand dollars a 
 year, and then divide the surplus among themselves. 
 The days and nights I have spent cutting down here, 
 lopping off there, studying chemistry, and experimen- 
 ting with dyes and machinery ! Yet they 'd expect to 
 hire all that for about the wages they earn." 
 
 He brought his soliloquy to an abrupt close, and 
 wended his way to his office. On reaching it, he plunged 
 at once into work, dictating letters and telegrams to 
 Danforth, running over the accounts and memoranda, 
 and signing the checks which the agent of his mill 
 and two clerks were preparing for him. 
 
 His visit thither was already known both to the 
 prominent citizens of Roxbury, and to the scores of 
 people elsewhere who, every day, had occasion for an 
 interview with him ;but he improved a moment of com- 
 parative quiet to fall into a reverie, preparatory pen 
 in hand to writing a letter. 
 
 " It can hardly be true that Carroll 's coming out for 
 the other side," he said. " If I could be only half as 
 good as he thinks he is! His John-the-Baptist devo-
 
 AGENTS WANTED APPLY WITHIN. 57 
 
 tion to Wharton, I suppose, will make him think any 
 other man quite unworthy of his preaching. There 's 
 surely some way of quieting him! Can 't be lie 's con- 
 scientious. Perhaps I could get him up here. It 
 could be made known from Bangor to San Francisco in 
 twenty-four hours, and that would compromise him at 
 any rate. Perhaps " 
 
 He thought a moment longer, and then began his 
 letter. A shadow was suddenly cast upon his paper, 
 and looking up, he saw Hans Kaiser, the principal 
 brewer of Roxbury, fat, puffing, excited, wiping his 
 round coppery-red face with a wad of handkerchief. 
 
 His lithographed token of Major Brewster's personal 
 affection, which he took from the post-office that after- 
 noon, would scarcely have puzzled him more had it 
 come from Bismarck himself. Not clearly understand- 
 ing it, he applied to Mr. Stratton, who happened to 
 stand near. 
 
 " O yes," said Mr. Stratton, whose estimate of 
 Brewster was freely expressed in the talk with the pol- 
 iticians on their way to the convention; " that 's. _from 
 Major Brewster. He says he 's heard you know all 
 about these political questions, and he 'd like to talk 
 with you. He has n't time, he says, to come and see 
 you, so you had better go and see him. Perhaps 
 lie '11 give you a post-office." 
 
 Kaiser started and, pushing his eager way to Brews- 
 ter's presence, remarked, without further ceremony: 
 
 " I vonts der shpeak mit der Maitchur." 
 
 The Major nodded permission, and continued his 
 writing; he had a talent for doing two or three things 
 at once.
 
 58 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " I kom der tog mit you, Maitchur. I get dis led- 
 derby der bozd-mazder. Und dey doles me dot Mait- 
 cliur Proozdur vouts der tog mit mir von dose polly- 
 deeks. Ve vonts plendy of moneys; dot iss der fee- 
 nanze qtiezjohn." 
 
 "Do you speak English?" asked Major Brewster. 
 " I cannot talk German." 
 
 "Yah! sehr goot Eenglish; besser dan de Doitch. 
 Ye vants beek moneys, so high as dot ;" measuring 
 with his hand. " Dair 's anohder tings. Dey doles me 
 dot Maitchur Proozdur gif me zurntings ; if I vurks 
 hart, he gifs me der bozd-ovviz." 
 
 " That gentleman over there will tell you all about 
 that, 3 ' said the Major, pointing to Danforth. " He's 
 the man that gives those things to people." 
 
 Kaiser looked contemptuously at Danforth. His 
 " ledder " had come from " Proozdur," and only with 
 " Proozdur " would he deal. 
 
 "Nein. I not knows dot glerg. Ef Proozdur 
 doles me he gif me tings, I gets him ; ef dot glerg 
 dol^s/AG, dot ish no good." 
 
 "Well, he's the one," said the Major. " I'm too 
 busy. It 's just the same." 
 
 " Nein. Der peer makes kein moneys, and I vont 
 mem lozd-ov\iz, already." 
 
 " Talk with him! " said Brewster, with a gesture of 
 command, that left Kaiser no choice. 
 
 So, turning with distrust, he walked slowly over to 
 Danforth,- who explained to him that it was not until 
 after election that post-offices and other good things 
 would, like " chromos," be given " to every subscriber"
 
 AGENTS WANTED APPLY WITHIN. 59 
 
 to the party platform, or at least to the " getter-up " 
 of " clubs." 
 
 As Kaiser lumbered away, wondering why he 
 could not get his pay in advance, a man, escorted by 
 two others who introduced him to Brews ter, entered 
 the office. He was roughly dressed, and especially 
 conspicuous for his flannel shirt. Shaking hands 
 with the notorious labor agitator, the Major invited 
 him into a small interior room, where a conference 
 ensued. After his visitor had gone, Brewster, step- 
 ping to the marble basin in his closet, washed his 
 hands with finely scented soap. 
 
 He was hardly at his task again when a figure, 
 dressed in black from his gaiters to his crape-wound 
 hat, shuffled toward him. Every part of his cloth- 
 ing shone with the dull gloss of farmer's satin. One 
 would have said that by some mysterious skill he 
 had polished equally every square inch of surface. 
 His joints, like a prepared skeleton's, seemed hung on 
 wires, and as he shambled along his toes cracked pain- 
 fully. He was an aristocratic tramp, who, on the 
 strength of an alleged letter from a church dignitary, 
 had recently persuaded a rector's wife to clothe him 
 in a complete outfit of her husband's cast-off garb. 
 He stood in front of Brewster, pulling through alter- 
 nate hands his dark, gray-streaked whiskers. 
 
 The Major, merely nodding at him, began writing 
 
 "Colonel Brewster, I believe." 
 
 The Major did not decline his promotion, but said 
 curtly: 
 
 "Yes sir, but I must refer you to that gentleman."
 
 60 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 The intruder reluctantly retired, and asked Danforth: 
 
 " Can I have a private interview with you?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " When and where? if you please." 
 
 " Now and here." 
 
 The visitor, with some astonishment, glanced at the 
 clerks. 
 
 "They are deaf; we select them from the asylum on 
 purpose," said Danforth, coolly. 
 
 Getting no further satisfaction, the man proceeded: 
 
 " I called to propose a method for liquidating the 
 national debt, which shall enrich the public creditors 
 without oppressing the people." 
 
 "Every man with a plan for paying the national 
 debt wants something; I suppose it's supper, in your 
 case," said Danforth, handing him twenty-five cents. 
 
 "You greatly wrong me in hinting at these sordid 
 motives," replied his visitor, pocketing the quarter; 
 " but I have a process for doubling the wealth of the 
 country in six weeks." 
 
 " I'll talk with you about it after the election," said 
 Danforth, getting out of patience, for lie was wasting 
 time on a fellow who probably would not vote. 
 
 "Quite right; the President" he said, half turning 
 towards the Major "ah! excuse my sensitive imagi- 
 nation h But my invention can be made to serve the 
 cause of truth and justice before election. It 's paper 
 and ink. I will, at your expense, print the names of 
 those foes of our country, the candidates of the oppo- 
 site party, and see that they are supplied with such 
 ballots. Previously, however, I shall, with my invisi-
 
 AGENTS WANTED APPLY WITHIN. 61 
 
 ble ink, print on the same ballots the names of the 
 champions of truth and justice your party, you un- 
 derstand. The chemical reaction of my paper and 
 ink is such, that the names of our country's foes will, 
 after reposing an hour in the sacred darkness of the 
 ballot-box, wholly disappear, and the names of the 
 friends of truth and justice become visible." 
 
 He stopped for want of breath, and Danforth rising, 
 said: 
 
 "That's just what we want; but we must talk of it 
 more privately. Come this way ! " 
 
 He followed Danforth to the other end of the office, 
 thence to an outer room, through which they passed 
 to a side entrance. Opening the door, Danforth po- 
 litely motioned his visitor to go first, which he did. 
 Whereupon the secretary shut the door, locked it, and 
 returned to his work. 
 
 The man outside, smiling gently, tetered off to the 
 post office, on the front steps of which stood .a group 
 of men earnestly talking. 
 
 The loose-jointed man, walking as if his clothes, 
 and not his bones, held him together, came up to them 
 just as " Grandfather " Cleland, with his rheumatic 
 fore-finger, was emphasizing his words upon the elbow 
 of his neighbor. 
 
 " There 's mighty few politicull men know who to 
 talk to," said Cleland ; "but Brewster knows his man 
 every time. You see he 's sent me this here letter, 
 and tells me he 's as busy as a boy killing snakes, or 
 he 'd get me to- help him straighten things out. D'ye 
 ever see the beat on 't?"
 
 62 A FAMOUS riCTORY. 
 
 "Did I ever see a row of spindles or a peck o' 
 peas?" said Frank Harmon, from beneath a tangle of 
 whiskers and a shock of coarse, mahogany-hued hair, 
 unfolding another copy of Brewster's Lithographed 
 letter. " 1 'm the man he's grieving hisself thin 
 over, because he can 't see me." . 
 
 "The country 's chuck full o' statesmen," said Jay- 
 cox, a nephew of old Cleland's, whose intelligence, even 
 under the grime and stains of oil and dyes, announced 
 itself in a look of thoughtfulness and common sense, 
 and in the pleasant blue eyes that were gray, and the 
 shrewd gray eyes that were blue; "and Major Brew- 
 "ster's found 'em all out," he continued, pulling out 
 a third copy of the letter; " the fellow who has n't the 
 whole science of government about him, all folded up 
 and handy 's a pocket-rule, must feel as lonesome as a 
 cod-fish on the prairies." 
 
 " He 's a smart politicull leader; that 's what / say," 
 remarked Cleland, with an air of having classified 
 Brewster, and put him away for the use of future 
 historians. 
 
 "He leads a party as a locomotive head-light leads 
 a train," said Jaycox; "it shows where the train 's 
 a-going whenever the train goes that way." 
 
 " I do n't b'leeve Brewster 'd play such a trick as 
 that," said old Cleland. " 'T enny rate, if he '11 only 
 gin a poor feller a boost, I '11 gin him. one. Land o' 
 mercy! how a mortgage does stick, once't it gits a holt. 
 You 'd a think it had growed on." 
 
 "He'll help you," said Harmon, from behind the 
 hairy hedge which half covered his tace. "You can
 
 AGENTS WANTED APPLY WITHIN. 63 
 
 pay off jour mortgage as easy as you can take off your 
 coat, when he 's President." 
 
 " That 's what / think," said the old man. I only 
 want to git rid of that, for it pinches like a new shoe. 
 I 've had it on so many years now, you 'd think it 
 would git to fit me, like. On gen'ul princ'puls, I 
 b'leeve in hard money. Arter I git that paid I'll set 
 my face like a flint agin' enny more paper." 
 
 " By that time the fellow you sell to will think it 's 
 his turn," said Jay cox. "Ife 'II want more money so 
 as to stick some other chap, just as you do now; and 
 if he has n't paid you cash, you 'II be the chap. 
 There '11 be no end to it until the balloon bursts. I 
 do n't believe in going up higher just for the sake of 
 falling further." 
 
 " "What 1 've to do," replied the old man, is to look 
 out for myself, and they must look out for them- 
 selves." 
 
 " Yes, do n't cross a bridge till you come to it," said 
 Harmon. 
 
 " J T is n't for my interest to be paid in such money," 
 said Jaycox. 
 
 "Not your interest!" cried Harmon, "and you a 
 workingman ! If they knew that over there," nodding 
 toward Brewster's mill, " you 'd be looking for a 
 job." 
 
 " O, he do n't mean nothin'," said old Cleland, in 
 nervous alarm. "He thinks juss we do; it 's only his 
 way o' puttin' it, that 's all." 
 
 " It 's mighty unlucky for him it sounds so different. 
 It 's my notion you can allers tell a duck's quack,
 
 64 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 even though an old hen set on the eggs," said Har- 
 mon. 
 
 " Not always," said Jaycox. " Some folks, hearin' 
 your voice and not your words, might take you for a 
 rational creetur'." 
 
 '' They can hear your voice, and your words, too, over 
 there," said Harmon, nodding again at the mill. 
 
 " You 're a sneak! " said Jaycox, " to he worming a 
 man's opinion out of him. But, now I 'm in for it, 
 I '11 say the truth that 's in me. If Cleland's kind of 
 money is a good_thing to pay debts with, /do n't want 
 it. Those folks over there every month owe me sev- 
 enty-five dollars, and if trash is the thing to pay debts 
 with, it 's not the kind I want." 
 
 "Well, my friend," said Harmon, turning to the 
 man in black, " you want better times at any rate, 
 don't you? plenty of work at high wages?" 
 
 " O, I can get enough," said he, with an amused air, 
 "if it's nothing more'n keepin' my jaws a-goin' like 
 you. I 'm offered wood to saw, and dirt to haul, almost 
 everywhere, and I 'm always willing to listen to 'em, even 
 on holidays. I '11 grind their scy tlies for 'em Christmas, 
 or cut ice Fourth o' July. I '11 do anything that 's be- 
 comin' the pious son of a liquor-dealer, bounced 
 from home for wanting family prayers every morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "Are you going to hear Stratton?" asked Harmon 
 of Jaycox, as the group broke up. 
 
 " Yes, and you 'd better go too. He talks sense." 
 
 "Don't give him away!" pleaded Cleland, taking 
 Harmon aside, and nodding toward his nephew Jay-
 
 AGENTS WANTED-APPLY WITHIN. 65 
 
 cox; " you see, he gives me a lift now and then. He 's 
 a good fellow is Abner, but he do like to talk; 
 there's no use talkin' 'bout that. But he gives me 
 suthm' every little while for his cousin, my darter-in- 
 lor, an' her lame boy, an' it helps us along over the 
 rough places." 
 But Harmon would afford him no satisfaction.
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 THE NET AND THE BIRD. 
 
 "HE 's one of our best men," said Superintendent 
 Clegg, of the Roxbury Mill, to Brewster, three days 
 after this talk among the operatives. 
 
 " He is too high-priced a man," replied the other. 
 "You can probably get some one that will do his 
 work for less. He has too much leisure for talking 
 politics, and he does n't talk the right sort, either." 
 
 " O, if he was a postmaster or a collector I would n't 
 say a word," continued Clegg; "you expect them to 
 talk straight, of course; but this is a matter of busi- 
 ness, and I 'm afraid the work will suffer." 
 
 " The Almighty has probably made more than one 
 Jaycox. Besides, I intend to be consistent. Of course 
 a government employe, who did n't know how to keep 
 his thoughts to himself better than Jaycox does, 
 would have to go, and " 
 
 " But that 's the government, and this is business." 
 
 Brewster closed the discussion by breaking open a 
 letter which Danforthjhanded him, and Clegg dropped 
 the subject. Brewster would not have listened fur- 
 ther, for the letter brought a tingle, even to his weath- 
 er-beaten sensations. It was from a confidential friend, 
 in reply to the one which Brewster wrote with so
 
 THE NET AND THE BIRD. 67 
 
 many interruptions, and announced that lie had per- 
 suaded Carroll, as a personal favor, to accept Major 
 Brewsters invitation to make him a visit. He added, 
 however, that Carroll's pride in Wharton's friendship 
 and his own consistency, would render necessary a 
 more than ordinary temptation to induce him to 
 " work " for Brewster, or even to secure the approval 
 of his silence. 
 
 "He is a rash prophet," hummed Brewster. " You 
 can not tell till you have seen the play, whether or not 
 you '11 sit it out." 
 
 Carroll's triumphs as a "stump speaker" forbade 
 his being unduly underrated. He had a happy com- 
 bination of requisite gifts a full chest, a melodious 
 voice, robust health, great endurance; wit and epigram 
 at his tongue's end, together with a vein of poetry and 
 humor with which he could paint a dashing portrait 
 or boldly sketch a situation. He once practiced law, 
 but having inherited a email estate from his father, 
 found " lecturing" more profitable and- agreeable. He 
 was, both by inheritance and tradition, a party politi- 
 cian ; but being comparatively of an independent and ju- 
 dicial temper, he had grown disgusted with the intense 
 partisanship and groveling intrigues of current poli- 
 tics. Except in regard to financial questions, tradi- 
 tion and party discipline had, of course, forced him 
 to keep his discontent wholly to himself. With a few 
 other " malcontents," Carroll had hailed "Wharton as a 
 long-sought deliverer from the bondage which chafed 
 them. Though Wharton's frankness and indepenednce 
 were by many regarded as sincere but fantastic, and
 
 68 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 he was accused of lacking audacity and "magnetism," 
 yet his avowed faith in honest elections, honest money, 
 and non-partisanship in office, had, as they imagined, 
 at last lit up, with the novel brilliancy of an electric 
 light, the political fog in which they groped. 
 
 His sudden death narrowed the choice of such men 
 in both parties to Brewster and his rival on the other 
 "ticket," It perplexed Carroll sorely. While he 
 shrank from joining his opponents, his duty of in- 
 forming the mind and probing the conscience of the 
 country on the questions concerning which he had 
 strong convictions, seemed reasonably clear. Indeed, 
 he found it difficult to keep silence. "Wharton, he 
 thought, would have said: "Follow your instincts 
 preserve all you can [of your consistency! crook your 
 path around insurmountable hills, but see that it bends 
 the right way, and comes out at the right spot! " 
 
 Moreover, though Carroll was a disgusted party pol- 
 itician, he had been " a party man,' 4 and it was an odd 
 sensation the thought of cutting aloof from old asso- 
 ciates and aiding, even indirectly, the election of a 
 former opponent. It brought him that sense of dis- 
 comfort which one feels in a foreign country where his 
 smattering of the language barely enables him to make 
 his way; but gains for him no welcomes or confidences 
 in the hearts and homes of its people. They listen po- 
 litely while he speaks, and shrug their shoulders be- 
 hind his back. 
 
 Under these circumstances, Carroll learned that 
 Brewster wanted to see him "just to talk over mat- 
 ters," "very informally;" "he was not to feel com-
 
 THE NET AND THE BIRD. 69 
 
 mitted in the least;" "of course his convictions would 
 be respected;" and Brewster would be quite candid 
 with him. Miss Brewster, too, would be very glad to 
 renew the agreeable acquaintance she had already made 
 in Washington. 
 
 Carroll went to Brewster's to oblige his friend, as 
 he said to himself; but really because he was not un- 
 willing to be tempted. He was in that dubious state 
 of virtue, which, under pretense of defying tempta- 
 tion, anticipates, as a reward for one's greater boldness 
 in encountering it, the pleasure of finally yielding; as 
 he who in battle runs bravely at the enemy in order 
 to be captured. He said to himself that he only want- 
 ed to know Brewster's purpose, and belittled his own 
 suspicions of his real motives. Besides, silence was 
 perhaps best. Very likely he would be doing great 
 harm in aiding his opponents; these affairs are so com- 
 plicated. 
 
 To Carroll's surprise, Brewster did not introduce the 
 subject. He talked, without apparent reservation, of 
 his plans for the campaign and laughed heartily at his 
 opponents, who, having for years availed themselves 
 of the same means, now betrayed much virtuous in- 
 dignation at the use of government officials in aid of 
 a candidate's election. Carroll .felt a little piqued at 
 Brewster's implied contempt for his influence. There 
 was neither virtue nor happiness in resistance when 
 there was nothing to resist. His host .was invariably 
 cordial and attentive; and Winifred devoted herself 
 to their guest's entertainment. There were dinners, 
 picnics, parties, excursions; by the end of the week,
 
 70 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 Carroll found that in her absence, time was drugged 
 with the morphia of ennui. His previous acquain- 
 tance with her, had left a most pleasing impression, 
 and he had more than once wished for the opportunity 
 he now enjoyed. 
 
 One evening the two came out on the broad veranda, 
 and, saying that he smoked more than was good for 
 him, he supposed, he asked permission to light a cigar; 
 then seating himself in a comfortable lounging-chair, 
 he proceeded to enjoy what had been so bountifully 
 vouchsafed him. 
 
 All his conditions and surroundings put him in the 
 happiest mood. A luxurious dinner, a cigar of fine 
 flavor, an unconscious digestion, a cool breath from the 
 harbor, tempering to balminess the heat of the day, 
 contributed to a self-satisfaction at once so pervasive, 
 volatile and grateful, that he was quite unaware how 
 happy he was. A scent of honeysuckles, the sunlight 
 filtering through the leaves and revealing the delicate, 
 almost imperceptible, warmth of color in "Winifred's 
 dark brown hair, her graceful attitude of leisure and 
 repose in the luxurious curves of the chair she sat in, 
 her cameo profile against the screen of woodbine at the 
 end of the veranda, the flattering suggestion of a listen- 
 ing mood in the slight deflection toward him of her 
 head and shoulders, her refined animation and sympa- 
 thetic laugh, smothered his scruples and self-inquisi- 
 tion until they seemed like the grim and dreary storm 
 that yesterday beset the ship he now saw gliding 
 smoothly into the smiling harbor. 
 
 The orb of red gold visible to the last second, as it
 
 THE NET AND THE BIRD. 71 
 
 sank below the dark line of waters, gilded with pink, 
 crimson, and amethyst, the few stray clouds, not yet 
 driven with the rest of the herd of solemn white ones, 
 home to the eastern horizon, where they were cow 
 disappearing; the "wrinkled sea" beneath, shone like 
 purple jasper; and the gathering gloom re-lit the twi- 
 light with an after-glow of opal and pale blue, trans- 
 ferring a shell-like luster to the white sails, which were 
 sailing out into the darkness. 
 
 " Of course I have done something to deserve all 
 this," said Carroll gracefully and eloquently, including, 
 with a wave of his hand the luxury of his immediate 
 environment and' the splendid picture of earth and sky 
 in the distance. " I'm not so sure which of my many 
 virtues it is, though." 
 
 " Perhaps it is your humility," suggested "Winifred, 
 with a light laugh. 
 
 " Yery likely; I had not thought of that." 
 
 "Which only shows how unconscious and natural 
 it is." 
 
 " Second nature, if any, I presume. What a sun- 
 set it is," he went on. " I wonder why all, or nearly 
 all, of our American statesmen have neglected our sun- 
 sets. Something surely might be done by way of 
 contrasting them with the inferior foreign produc- 
 tions and advocating a protective tariff for their en- 
 couragement. An American poet has complimented 
 the skies for furnishing us with a national ensign, and 
 why should n't we develop this native industry until 
 we are as proud of our clouds as we are of our iron 
 and our crops?"
 
 72 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " Is that question addressed to me or the American 
 orator's audience? " she asked, laying down a bit of 
 embroidery in her lap and looking off. " If you ask 
 me, I shall refuse to commit myself. I used to be 
 a good deal disturbed about the crops, though. Every- 
 body talked as if something dreadful might happen 
 to them; but there never did, and so I concluded not 
 to waste my emotion, and ever after felt comfortable 
 and happy." 
 
 " Yes, I imagine it must have taken a great weight 
 from your mind," said Carroll, so cynical, from habit, 
 that he fell into it even with an artless young woman. 
 
 " Now, you are laughing at me, Mr. Carroll. But 
 I do not know why ray worrying won't do as much 
 good as anybody's." 
 
 " There is something to be said in favor of that, 
 but you should not worry at all." 
 
 " No, I 've often said so to myself, just as gentle- 
 men say they ought not to smoke so much, and keep 
 on doing it. But then I generally worry about trifles 
 the housekeeping, or father's bad colds, and whether 
 I can have the same dress-maker twice in succession ; 
 the very day I want her." 
 
 " Yet it's very nattering and comfortable to have 
 somebody worrying about you. That's one pleasure I 
 have managed to miss, at least since I was a youngster 
 and afforded my parents all the opportunities of that 
 kind they cared for. If you will persist in the bad 
 practice, I would like very much to be added to your 
 list." 
 
 " It wouldn't be very complimentary," she replied,
 
 THE NET AND THE BIRD. 73 
 
 " after saying that I either worried about trifles or 
 when it did no good." 
 
 " But it would do me a great deal of good," he said. 
 
 " I am afraid that 's the^way with you luxurious men 
 of the world; you'd like a new sensation at any cost 
 to a woman. Besides, how can one feel greatly troubled 
 for a prosperous and popular man." 
 
 " Well, perhaps he may need it the most. He cer- 
 tainly ought to crave something higher than worldly 
 success; don't you think so?" 
 
 She did not answer; for, there suddenly appeared in 
 the twilight a well-shaped young fellow, whose loung- 
 ing*air and gait contradicted his youthful elasticity 
 and vigor of body. He was dressed in a grayish suit, 
 and, as he bade Miss Winifred " good evening," 
 gracefully raised a light, narrow-brimmed hat, trimmed 
 with blue ribbon, and seated himself with familiar 
 demeanor, upon the upper step of the veranda. 
 
 " O, Dean, is it you ! I thought you would have been 
 at Orion II; 1 ^o-night at your father's meeting." 
 
 Then she presented Mr. Dean Stratton to Mr. Carroll. 
 
 "No" replied the young man, "I'm already ortho- 
 dox on the subject, and so I told the old gentleman 
 that, if it was all the same to him, some man who 
 needed his instruction might have my share of the 
 room. Mr. Carroll, I suppose, will say that there may 
 be two sides to this question." 
 
 " I think," said Carroll, " that most questions are 
 like the elephant which the blind men undertook to 
 describe. One who got hold of his leg, said an ele- 
 phant was like a tree; the man who grasped his tail,
 
 74 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 said lie was like a rope; the fellow who felt of his ear 
 said he was like a palm leaf, and the one whom the 
 beast took in his trunk and chucked into a tank said 
 he was a sea-serpent. I am not certain that that's an 
 entirely accurate report of the occurrence, but it is near 
 enough for the purpose." 
 
 The conversation drifted away to other topics. Car- 
 "roll's growing admiration of Miss Winifred and his 
 consequent jealousy soon detected in the manner of his 
 two companions something which disquieted him a 
 good deal. Dean's demeanor had a confidential flavor, 
 with a half-apparent sense of possession and security; 
 and Carroll imagined that he heard an added tender- 
 ness in her tones when she spoke to the young man. 
 
 Resenting ever so slight a hint of some one else's 
 possible claim to her, he grew unhappy, and almost 
 impatient of the politeness which forced him to sit 
 chatting with them about different and indifferent 
 subjects. Finally, disgusted with the interruptions 
 he had suffered at so interesting a point in his talk 
 with her, he joined Brewster in the library. 
 
 The latter looked up as if surprised at his entrance, 
 and in reply Carroll said: "Miss Winifred has com- 
 pany Mr. Dean Stratton and as three make a crowd, 
 I came away." 
 
 Brewster, frowning slightly, which, of course, was 
 not lost upon Carroll, said : " i r es, a neighbor's boy 
 I might almost call him. He and Winifred were in- 
 timate friends before either of them could speak." 
 
 "Their learning to speak does not seem to have 
 broken their friendship," said Carroll.
 
 THE NET AND THE BIBD. 75 
 
 He was sitting iii a strong light, where Brewster 
 could see every change in expression and narrowly 
 watch him. lie made no reply, and Carroll added : 
 "That is a very romantic sort of attachment; and your 
 knowing the young man from his youth up, must re- 
 lieve you from all anxiety." 
 
 Brewster again looked at him, as he answered: 
 
 " My knowing him well might work quite as much 
 to his disadvantage as otherwise." 
 
 "Perhaps; but a feeling that is the outgrowth of 
 years must have taken deep root in such a nature as 
 hers." 
 
 " Winifred is too affectionate and obedient not to 
 be greatly influenced by my preferences," said Brew- 
 ster, " so far at least as they are reasonable." 
 
 " She being the judge of their reasonableness," said 
 Carroll. 
 
 " Young Stratton is not capable of rendering me the 
 slightest service," Brewster went on. "His father, 
 who, you know, is on the other side, is a strong man; 
 but the boy is a good deal of a dawdler." 
 
 Nothing further was said on the subject; indeed, 
 there was no need or propriety in saying more; but 
 after Carroll reached his room that night, he sat down 
 by the window and communed with himself. All his 
 better instincts forbade his yielding to the bribe that 
 had just been offered him. He was not insincere; he 
 could be ardent and impetuous. He could love a wo- 
 man with great intensity and a man with honest loyal- 
 ty. But the latest emotiort, by whatsoever or whom- 
 soever excited, generally triumphed over previous ones,
 
 76 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 giving to his character a certain, or rather an uncer- 
 tain, instability, and to his moods a flavor of fickle- 
 ness. Winifred's loveliness had greatly taken posses- 
 sion of him, and, although he was not yet ready to 
 barter or compromise convictions which would be 
 perilously involved by these new relations to Brewster, 
 he was ready to risk them in the hazards of a men- 
 tal debate on the subject. 
 
 " It would pain Wharton, I suppose, if he knew," 
 he said to himself, " but then, if he knows at all he 
 knows the whole. I can't throw away this chance of 
 winning her; to throw away all that such an alliance 
 implies, is asking too much from &ny mortal man, 
 at least 1 'm not made of the stuff that can calmly re- 
 sist it. What did I come here for? I might have 
 known how it would end. I suppose I came because I 
 knew or hoped. I can no more get down to solid 
 ground again than if I were Mahomet's coffin. That is 
 the first hint the old man 's given of his caring about 
 my movements. Pshaw! the idea that he doesn't care. 
 He would n't be such a fool. It 's wretched business, 
 this letting a fellow-creature put a muzzle on you ; but 
 by Jove, what would n't a man be, do, or suffer, for the 
 sake of getting lier\ I 'd be as dumb as the sphinx, or 
 as noisy as that mill the rest of my life. What a 
 charming creature at a dinner or a reception ! A little 
 more color, perhaps, but she'd soon get that! though 
 just to have her at your own breakfast-table, would be 
 all a reasonable man could ask." 
 
 Then, like a sting of conscience, the familiar lines 
 smote him:
 
 THE NET AND THE BIRD. 77 
 
 "I could not love thee, dear, so much, 
 Loved I not honor more." 
 
 " That fellow was n't dead in love with her" he added, 
 after a pause, "or he could not have thought so. 
 Thunder, man ! it's twelve o'clock, and you 're spooning 
 here in the moonlight. Even her rustic swain who, it 
 seems, was in love with her before he cut his teeth is 
 snoring in bed by this time." 
 
 And, so saying, Carroll retired.
 
 78 A FAMOUS, VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER YIIL 
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 
 
 On coming down stairs, next morning, Carroll found 
 Brewster in the library, searching the congressional 
 debates, and with him a guest, who had arrived by the 
 early train ; but who, judging from Bre^vster's apparent 
 unconsciousness of his existence, should have found it 
 agreeable to depart by the next one. Next to his 
 white hair, black moustache arid imperial, which 
 were in pleasing contrast with a fresh complexion, his 
 most conspicuous feature was his shoulders, whose 
 height and breadth concealing his neck, suggested the 
 symmetry of a snow-man, or of the old-fashioned gate- 
 posts, surmounted by their globes at the entrance of 
 the lawn; but his face, except for its vanity, would 
 have been attractive, even in spite of strong marks of 
 self-indulgence, and of an artificial pomposity inflated 
 almost to the point of bursting. Brewster casually 
 introducing him as " Mr. Perceval," handed Carroll 
 the morning paper, and went on with his reading. 
 
 "Ah!" said Perceval; "very glad indeed, to make 
 Mr. Carroll's acquaintance. We ought to know each 
 other, for we are men of brains. Flatter myself, at 
 least, that I 'm worth knowing." 
 
 " No doubt about that," said Mr. Carroll, gravely.
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 79 
 
 "I have only been waiting for leisure, in order to know 
 you. To know such a man requires the time and at- 
 tention I have not yet been able to give to it." 
 
 Puzzled as to whether this was serious or satirical, 
 Perceval relapsed into silence. 
 
 "Another clergyman in hot water," said Carroll, 
 glancing at the news. 
 
 "Ah ! " said Brewster, with a chuckle so delicately 
 shaded as to be both dignified and effective. " Same 
 old trouble, I suppose? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Churches are about played out," broke in Perceval. 
 " They 're the worst humbugs going. But they 've 
 about given up trying to whitewash their rascals any 
 more. They are all tarred with the same stick, in my 
 opinion a lot of hypocrites everyone of them al- 
 ways on the jump to cover up their rottenness." 
 
 "You speak as if you had a personal grievance?'' 
 said Brewster. "I never knew them to do you any 
 harm or any good." 
 
 \ " They say it hurts religion to turn against a brother 
 and expose him," continued Perceval, not noticing 
 Brewster's commentary. " That is, they 're afraid 
 their church '11 go all to pieces. It must be bad all 
 through, or they wouldn't be so skittish. 'Tis n't any 
 of their business, they say, to turn against an. erring 
 brother. The world '11 do it, quick enough, without 
 any help from them. That's all nonsense in rny opin- 
 ion and they stick to their Bible, tough stories and 
 all, and try to believe it " 
 
 " Perceval," interrupted Brewster, " ' They say,'
 
 80 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 too, that there are two kinds of fools in this world 
 
 fools, and d fools. I wish you'd choose once for 
 
 all which kind you'll belong to, and stick to it; you 
 confuse people, shifting about so." 
 
 Perceval, looking up as surprised as if he had run a 
 steamboat upon a snag, gasped for more words, but 
 Brewster's puncture reduced his bulky vanity, and 
 making no answer, he shrank away somewhere. 
 
 " There is a fellow," said Brewster, after he had dis- 
 appeared, " who is always talking to hear himself talk." 
 
 " I can't quite agree with you," said Carroll, "for it 
 seems to me that if he but fairly heard himself once 
 he would stop it." 
 
 " He is a relative," said Brewster, in a confidential 
 tone, " and in my younger days, when I was more 
 easily deceived than I flatter myself I am now, he 
 won my confidence by pretending to a large influence 
 with ' wire-pullers ' and ' managers,' and retained theirs 
 by pretending to be on confidential terms with me. I 
 discovered the see-saw of imposition and threw him 
 overboard; but his father, my .mother's brother, was 
 very good to me when I was a lad, and so I have al- 
 ways taken care of him." 
 
 By " taking care of him " Brewster meant that by 
 inserting him into any vacant office he happened to 
 " control," he had managed to make the public sup- 
 port his relative. In his earlier life Perceval was self- 
 indulgent to excess, but age and grossness threatening 
 to end his folly, he had in later years, exercised more 
 prudence. Afraid to die, but not to lie, this immoral 
 Falstaflian courage had so destroyed his trustworthi-
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 81 
 
 ness, that wherever he was well known his natural tal- 
 ent for passing himself off for more than he was worth, 
 was no longer available. And so he had become a 
 mere pensioner on Brewster's share of the public 
 bounty. At the present time, and in order to keep 
 him out of mischief, Brewster employed him at low 
 wages to pick up various misinformation about men 
 and affairs. 
 
 Carroll nodded a recognition of Brewster's public 
 and vicarious benevolence toward his kinsman, and the 
 major proceeded: 
 
 " He is always badly swollen with what seems to him 
 valuable intelligence, and in as constant a state of col- 
 lapse when exploded by a sharp thrust of common 
 sense. He has a habit of looking over his shoulder as 
 if some body lurked there listening to his thoughts for 
 the purpose of anticipating him in their publication. 
 He calls, in almost blood-curdling tones, for his let- 
 ters, as if to impress the postmaster with the mysteri- 
 ous and probably dangerous state secrets contained in 
 them ; and when public questions are touched upon, he 
 will wrap himself in a solemnity truly appalling." 
 
 At this moment the original of this caricature was 
 heard on the veranda, addressing " cousin Winifred," 
 as he bade her an effusive "good morning." Brews- 
 ter, saying no more, glanced at the newspaper report 
 of Israel Stratton's speech of the previous evening, 
 in the course of which that gentleman had indulged 
 in some caustic comments upon the eminent candidate's 
 views and methods. Throwing it down, he said, with 
 real or assumed indignation: 
 6
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " I will have nothing more to do with him. He has 
 been making a gross personal assault upon me. I 
 shall give Winifred orders to discontinue her intimacy 
 with the family." 
 
 Carroll trembled; partly with the consciousness of 
 the allurement which gently put one enticing hand 
 upon him and with the other softly loosened his 
 armor, and slyly unbuckled his sword, caressing his 
 senses, and toying with his manhood thus enervated 
 by the joy that filled him. He gave himself up to 
 the enchantment, and in his exultation, cast all but 
 his darling wishes to the winds. 
 
 This feeling was heightened by her entrance, fresh 
 from an unbroken night's rest, and a short stroll up- 
 on the lawn. She was attired in a pale blue morning 
 dress, and with the grace of apparent unconscious- 
 ness, was inserting a blush rose bud into the luxuri- 
 ant folds of her hair, while a delicate cluster of mign- 
 onette begemmed her spray-like scarf of lace. Per- 
 ceval was rolling along by her side, and she seemed 
 much relieved when Carroll's coming forward inter- 
 rupted the commonplaces her cousin was droning into 
 her ears. 
 
 As Carroll walked and chatted by her side on the way 
 to the breakfast room, his questionings of the night 
 before seemed to him like the distorted sights and 
 sounds which the sleepless imagination creates in the 
 darkness. He wondered now where they came from, 
 and how they found room or welcome in his mind. 
 
 " I think you had better take a run of a week or two 
 off the coast," said Brewster to him. " I shall go to
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 83 
 
 the city this afternoon to be absent several days, but 
 Miss Winifred can invite her aunt and cousins, and 
 Tom will take charge of the expedition." 
 
 " Thank you ! ". replied Carroll, radiantly, as he 
 thought of the pleasant intimacy of such an excur- 
 sion. From day to day during the exhilirating and 
 tireless ride, from night to night under the moon and 
 stars, he would have her to talk to, to listen to, to 
 watch silently, to be conscious of perpetually, both in 
 the prolonged romance of the voyage and the novel- 
 ty of its many incidents. 
 
 " I did not know you owned a yacht," he added. 
 
 " Kot I," said Brewster. " I don't propose furnish- 
 ing these newspaper men with a month's talk about 
 my yacht. I know better than that. But my brother- 
 in-law owns one which is at our disposal. For myself, 
 I never go. I prefer the solid ground, whose worst 
 pranks are an earthquake away off somewhere else, or 
 a hole in the road, for which you can recover dam- 
 ages." ^ 
 
 " I wish you'd put me in charge of the yacht, papa," 
 said Winifred. " Tom's always wanting to go to the 
 place where he pulled up a twenty-pound blue fish at 
 one p. m., Thursday, Aug. 10, the summer of '70, or '74, 
 or '75, or whichever it may be; and he will steer for 
 it, or seem to, as if he had left a stone there fora land- 
 mark if that's correct to say and could see it as far 
 as you can see Bunker Hill monument. Then he al- 
 ways remembers where he shot a peculiar kind of 
 duck, on some afternoon of a certain month in a special 
 year of grace; and insists on anchoring till the anni-
 
 84 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 versary comes round, in the apparent belief that that 
 particular species of fowl is addicted to the annual 
 habits of Christmas or Fourth of July." 
 
 "And where would you go?" asked her father. 
 
 " I'd do as Tom and I used to in the carriage shut 
 our eyes as long as our patience held out and then open 
 them to see where we were." 
 
 "You have unusual qualifications for a skipper," 
 commented her father. 
 
 "She would make a good president," said Carroll, 
 with frank cynicism. 
 
 Brewster laughed, but the look in his eyes, if Carroll 
 had noticed, was not agreeable. 
 
 "0, I don't want ' to be skipper," said Winifred ; 
 " that implies responsibility, but I'd like to give gen- 
 eral directions at the start that we are not to have any 
 programme whatever, but to go where we like." 
 
 " O, no, if you'll excuse me, not even where we like," 
 interposed Carroll, " because that implies purpose 
 and forethought which in turn implies exertion, and 
 that by so much impairs the bliss of perfect indol- 
 ence." 
 
 " You are right," she said. " Papa shall do it for 
 us. He is to give sealed orders to Tom, not to be open- 
 ed until we are outside, and to be implicitly followed 
 on penalty of court martial for mutiny." 
 
 " That's a good plan," said Perceval, " I would like 
 that. You might intrust them to me, major, and I'll 
 see that their secrecy is respected." 
 
 Perceval's intimation that he expected to be of the 
 party naturally disgusted Carroll, while Winifred, too
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 85 
 
 kindhearted to say disagreeable things, even to Perce- 
 val, who, to put it mildly, she thought a dreadful bore, 
 looked imploringly at her father. 
 
 The latter, however, in the furtherance of his own 
 plans, had anticipated her. 
 
 " They will probably go half-way across the Atlantic 
 before they are done with it," said he. 
 
 Perceval grew a little pale. He had thought only 
 of a day's excursion within sight of land, where in case 
 of anything 's happening, he could be rescued or con- 
 trive to get ashore. He shrank from this prospect of 
 ocean perils to the precious casket of important public 
 information, labeled Augustus Perceval. He owed a 
 duty to his fellow citizens not to endanger it, and in a 
 self-sacrificing tone, replied: 
 
 "O, is that the programme? I am very sorry, but 
 my engagements will not permit me to be gone so long 
 as that." 
 
 " It is too bad," said Brewster, you would enjoy it 
 so much." 
 
 " It's not polite to urge him," said Tom, who had 
 just come down to breakfast. " He detests the sea, 
 and if we have any such weather as we had the middle 
 of July, 1869, and '73, most of you will wish you had n't 
 come." 
 
 "It's impossible for me even to think of- going/' 
 said Perceval, quite demoralized by these attacks. 
 
 " I '11 send a message to Aunt Josephine and the 
 girls immediately," said "Winifred rising from the 
 table, while the others strolled into the library. 
 
 " Bv the way," said Perceval, dropping into a chair
 
 86 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 after handing them a light for their cigars, and draw- 
 ing a sigh of contentment with the excel lent breakfast 
 he had just disposed of, " I had a talk with Congress- 
 man Bunkery, from the state of ' Injannen* lie spoke 
 at Norwich last night. You know him I suppose." 
 " O yes," said Carroll, " I 've seen him in his native 
 jungle." 
 
 " Well, do you know, he 's a man, I should say, that 
 can lay over most of our statesmen and give 'em odds. 
 I said to him, 'Bunkery, my dear fellow, how is it you 
 get such a powerful hold on these public questions. 1 
 wish I could do it.' ' O it 's mighty easy, my dear 
 boy,' said he. 'Study it out, study it out. These 
 shylocks and gold-bugs pretend it's a work for a life- 
 time, but that's all humbug. It 's because they don 't 
 want anybody else to look into it and expose em.' " 
 
 "Yes, I have talked with him," said Carroll, amused 
 at Perceval's assumption of familiarity with this em- 
 inent western statesman, " and he told me how he did 
 it. He said, to me: " One evening after I got 'the 
 boys ' all tucked up snug and warm in their little 
 post offices, I felt pretty well used up, as you can im- 
 agine. I was too tired for billiards and there was no 
 theater worth going to, so I thought 1 'd just sit down 
 and take a shy at this finance business they were talk- 
 ing so much about. I stepped up to Trottem's room 
 boarded in the same house with me, you know, and 
 claimed to be posted and I asked him for a book or 
 two. I sort 'o looked through 'em and got all the ideas 
 I could make any use of. It 's easy enough, said Bun- 
 kery, if you only know how. I should think somebody
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 87 
 
 might write a little tract and call it l Finance Before 
 Bed-Time,' I 'd guarantee it a big sale. There 'd be 
 three or four hundred congressmen to begin with, and 
 as many more candidates.' " 
 
 In spite of the sober way in which Carroll thus bur- 
 lesqued the politicians who (in 18 )affected to de- 
 spise the importance of studying politics and finance, 
 Perceval began to see that this visitor was ridiculing 
 his admiration of his new idol. 
 
 "What are you talking about?" asked Brewster, ab- 
 ruptly, laying down his book. 
 
 " I was telling about Bunkery," said Perceval, a 
 little abashed; "he's just from the west. It's de- 
 lightful to hear him talk." 
 
 " I wish he 'd fish on his own side of the stream," said 
 Brewster; "you can 't catch much with his bait down 
 this way." 
 
 " Bunkery 's the most sincere admirer of self-govern- 
 ment I know of," said Carroll; " he does n't even believe 
 that the verb should be governed by the nominative case ; 
 at least one would think he did n't, to hear him talk." 
 
 "Well," retorted Perceval, excited and irritated, 
 " I 'm a strict party man, and /do n't believe in criti- 
 cizing the fellows that pull with me, or in finding 
 fault with my party, or making a parade of my virtue, 
 by a great to-do about its badness. It 's a fouling of 
 one's own nest, in my opinion. I believe in my 
 party; it's my religion, my church, and my Bible, 
 and I swear by whatever it says. I go in for sticking 
 to it, and standing by it, and by the men in it 
 What's the use of holding them up to ridicule? You
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 can 't keep a party together in that way. It only 
 hurts the party when these nice miss-nancyish fel- 
 lows are allowed to turn up their delicate noses at 
 the men who do all the dirty I would say the work 
 and take all the hard knocks. Where '11 your party 
 be? No sir; I say, if there 's any hard talking to be 
 done about our folks, let the other fellows do it. 
 They '11 do it fast enough. It 's not my business to go 
 pokin' round for bad spots and calling on everybody 
 to come and see 'em." 
 
 " Yes," said Carroll, amused at Perceval's zeal, " it 's 
 almost as bad as it is for the churches." 
 
 " Well," said Perceval, after a long pause, " Bunkery 
 said one thing last night that gave me an idea." 
 
 " I'm glad to hear it," said Brewster, " that is the 
 most extraordinary thing I ever knew any one to say 
 of him." 
 
 But Perceval, not relishing any further encounters, 
 strolled oft' without repeating Bunkery's wisdom. 
 
 "I can 't be absent more than a week or ten days, 
 if you please," said Carroll. " I must be laying out 
 my work for the fall." 
 
 " If the question is not impertinent, what do you 
 intend doing?" asked Brewster, carelessly. 
 
 "Not in the least," replied Carroll, with affected 
 unconcern. " In truth, I do n't know. I think it 
 would take the wisdom of Solomon in re the two 
 women and the child to decide me." 
 
 "If I remember rightly, he proposed splitting the 
 difference," answered Brewster. " That is a good way 
 when you 're much in doubt."
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 89 
 
 Carroll made no reply but sat intently musing and 
 his face, a tolerably frank one, betrayed bis perplexity. 
 Brewster's quick eye noticed it, and he said quietly: 
 
 " Abuse plaintiff's attorney! " 
 
 Carroll, uncomfortable at having his thoughts read 
 so easily, pretended not to understand. 
 
 "Why," said Brewster, "attack their candidate!" 
 
 " Yes," replied Carroll, " that 's always safe;" " and 
 not so embarrassing," he thought. 
 
 Demoralization was setting in rapidly. Brewster's 
 domestic frankness, his confidential deference to Car- 
 roll's own ideas about the Western politician and his 
 private confession of the humbug he publicly honored, 
 nattered Carroll's vanity. He accepted, and was eager to 
 accept this attitude as proof of Brewster's being at least 
 only half as black as he was painted, and in case of his 
 election, of his disappointing both friends and foes. 
 He was eagerly looking for any signs of the virtues he 
 deemed cardinal in a public man; and, had Brewster 
 taken the trouble to array himself in the silk stock- 
 ings, knee-breeches and cocked-hat of the Fathers of 
 the Republic, Carroll, in his present temper, was al- 
 most capable of accepting him as one of them redolent 
 with their antique uprightness and haughty honesty. 
 
 But he was prevented from taking the final plunge 
 by the free audience he was still disposed to give his 
 conscience; or perhaps it was his pride which clam- 
 ored for a hearing. When he began to listen he was 
 not a little startled at his memory which stood up 
 in his miniature court and testified to his past career. 
 
 It recited his speech on the " silver craze " which he
 
 90 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 had described as one of those "gusts of folly" which 
 at times sweep away great masses of people level 
 heads among them, too. Many, he said, were innocent 
 victims of this delusion, but there were not lacking 
 those whose relish for dishonesty under some harmless 
 phrase, is like the craving for alcohol under the name 
 of " stomach bitters." Their love for the old silver 
 dollar was very touching and rose in fervor as the 
 value of the dollar fell. They baptized it, " the dollar 
 of the fathers," and like magi, from the west, instead 
 of the east, fell down and worshiped it. Gold, they 
 said, was a false and craven deity, which left its wor- 
 shipers in the lurch. Their deity could work mira- 
 cles, the chief of which, according to Carroll, was to 
 pay a hundred cents of debt with eighty cents of met- 
 al. The mint had been pouring out millions a year. 
 Other civilized nations had ceased coining it. Let 
 the Americans and Chinese keep at it! they said. 
 Attempts had been made to return to a gold basis, but 
 the old cry of contraction and the suffering it entailed 
 had frightened time-serving congressmen from drying 
 up the silver stream. It will drive gold from the 
 country, and the paper money, redeemable in silver, 
 will fall below par. Betting will take the place of 
 commerce; the values of everything, or rather the prices 
 of everything will advance all but wages, as usual 
 they will straggle in the rear. That J s what you said, 
 said memory, the witness. 
 
 " Yes," said Carroll, " that was putting it pretty 
 strong." 
 
 And then, continued his memory, there are your
 
 THE TEMPTATION. 91 
 
 remarks on the revival of the paper money mania. 
 You said that, vigorous and lusty, it will spring to 
 life again. "See," its advocates will say, that's the 
 way you put it, echoed his memory, " see what 
 has come from the so-called depreciation of silver! 
 Prices have advanced, and prosperity has flown in up- 
 on us as rich harvests follow the flood of the Nile. 
 The working classes have not yet felt it, because the 
 fields of speculation, near the source and first reached 
 by the flood, absorbed all its benefits. We want a del- 
 uge which will irrigate the whole community. By 
 skillful playing on these themes, you said, the Ameri- 
 can public will find itself plunged into another discus- 
 sion as to whether half a loaf is better than no bread. 
 He was hopelessly committed against all schemes 
 for issuing inflated paper and getting it into circula- 
 tion; as well as against Brewster's methods, and ma- 
 chinery. Yet now, he proposed putting this behind 
 him, and turning away from the duty to which his 
 honest foresight and his talents assigned him. His 
 objections to the opposition party did not release him 
 from a sense of his moral obligations to his other 
 principles. In his conscientious moods he had al- 
 ways felt that the duty of even a disgusted patriot was 
 to see that right principles had a champion, leaving 
 all other consequences to a power beyond his own. 
 Notwithstanding this it appeared to him just now, an 
 easy matter to keep silence when silence might buy so 
 much. Feeling Brewster's presence unfavorable to the 
 calm review which this crisis in his life called for, he 
 went out for a solitary walk.
 
 92 A FAMOUS' VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 THE STRUGGLE. 
 
 SOON after leaving Brewster's house, Carroll encoun- 
 tered two men in earnest conversation. On his com- 
 ing up, they separated, and Mr. Stratton's ruddy face, 
 with its snow-white drapery of hair and beard, was 
 smiling on Carroll, while his hearty grasp gave him 
 friendly greeting. 
 
 " You 're at Brewster's, I understand. I should 
 have been happy to have seen you, or to see you 'now, 
 at my house." 
 
 " The days have slipped away," replied Carroll, " and 
 I 've intended every morning to leave on the evening 
 train," and every night to be off in the morning." 
 
 " Brewster 's carrying things with a high hand," 
 continued Stratton. "There 's Jaycox, one of his 
 men, just left me: one of his best men too; who, 
 besides knowing his business, is reflective and has 
 unusual insight into affairs. He dares to speak 
 his mind, and is not led away by these will-o'-the- 
 wisps that cheat so many of his fellows. So Brew- 
 ster trumps up something about his being too expensive 
 a man, and kicks him out. The real reason is that the 
 man's conscience won't let him choke down the truth
 
 THE STRUGGLE. 93 
 
 that 's in him, and Brewster proposes to starve him. 
 Excuse me for rattling on about a person whose hos- 
 pitality you are enjoying,but I'm too indignant to keep 
 still." 
 
 "Perhaps I can do something for the man," said 
 Carroll. 
 
 " No, I think not. Brewster won't take him back 
 certainly not unless he promises to keep quiet." 
 
 " And won't he do that ?" asked Carroll, eagerly. 
 
 " Do it ? Why, it stirs all that 's good in a man to 
 hear him. He 's in much distress. His wife, whom 
 he loves and nurses with great tenderness, is absolutely 
 dependent on his earning a considerable income, and 
 as he stood there, just now, talking about his future, 
 I saw the moisture in his eyes. He wanted me to 
 lend him a small sum and take a mortgage on his 
 house. I refused any security, and then he refused 
 to borrow, except for his current expenses. He 's 
 heroic !" 
 
 " Yes," said Carroll, his eyes so intent upon the 
 ground that he suddenly felt guilty of rudeness; but 
 he had been quite engrossed both in listening and 
 thinking. 
 
 Here was a man who could starve, but could not 
 submit to a muzzle; who, even to buy his bread withal, 
 would not sell his birthright or his conscience. There 
 was such a reality then as heroism and moral courage; 
 and some men believed in it more than they believed 
 even in food and raiment, in the lust of the flesh and 
 the eye, and in the pride of life. He, too, had always 
 believed in it; but he had never before had to determine
 
 94 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 how much he believed in it. All these things had been 
 added unto him, to begin with, and he had not been 
 obliged to seek the kingdom of heaven before he got 
 them. 
 
 Apologizing for his abstracted manner to Mr. Strat- 
 ton, who stood wondering what had become of his 
 usual high and jovial spirits, and exchanging some 
 commonplace remarks, he took his leave, and turned 
 back to Brewster's house. He strode rapidly along 
 with that free swing of his apparently meaning 
 to acquire a momentum which would carry him 
 quite through the resisting atmosphere of enticement 
 now environing him. He would make some excuse 
 for instant departure, dismiss his dreams, and be a free 
 man once more. 
 
 But he was not over the threshold when this fine 
 temper began softening. He was greeted by the rural 
 ease and hospitality of the half-open front door, be- 
 stowing a happy independence of the draw-bridges 
 and port-cullises which life in a large city erects. 
 Open, too, was the wide door-way of the parlor. He 
 heard a sweet voice singing Burns' song " O ! wert thou 
 in the cauld blast," set to Mendlessohn's music. She 
 had nearly finished, and he stopped a moment 
 
 " The desert were a paradise, 
 If thou wert there, if thou wert there." 
 
 Down the long room in the recess near the window 
 where the grand piano stood, he saw the pale blue 
 dress against the background of lace curtains, which 
 the gentle breeze waved into alternate light and shad- 
 ow, and the. crown of warm brown hair in the liea-
 
 THE STRUGGLE. 95 
 
 yen's own light which surrounds fair women. All 
 this refinement and beauty of life swept into rough 
 oblivion the figure of the workingman. Its sturdy 
 crudeness, its valiant but uncouth outlines, were out 
 of place here; they jarred upon his taste, making him 
 impatient with the admiration they had just raised 
 within him. 
 
 " How warm it is growing!" she said, rising as he 
 entered; " though I don't dislike warm weather, I am 
 longing to get out on the water. There 's the fresh- 
 ness and the sense of knowing that you're going no- 
 where, and that it does n't make the slightest differ- 
 ence when you get there. I hope you like it as much 
 as I do." 
 
 "Yes," he said; "though I had not quite decided 
 I ought to go 
 
 u Of course you ought to go," said she, with an air 
 of sincerity; and then, changing from her breezy con- 
 fidence to gentle complaint, added: "Though to be 
 sure that 's not a very enthusiastic way of talking 
 about an intended pleasure excursion." 
 
 This was all so charming that, instead of finishing 
 his sentence, he was half ashamed of having begun it. 
 He had drawn near and was leaning on the piano 
 looking as if he wished this might go on forever; with 
 no torment of choice and duty; only an uninterrupted 
 delight really worth calling life. Winifred, noticing 
 his hesitation, said anxiously: 
 
 " I hope there's no question of ought or ought not, 
 in -the case, for that would make me a kind of Rhine 
 maiden tempting you " (they had been talking of
 
 96 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 the German legend the night before), "and that is far 
 from what I would like to be; but I have no doubt," 
 she added in a lighter mood, " you can well be trusted 
 against myself." 
 
 A thousand emotions were stirred within hirn ; 
 though he himself lacked the fine edge which only the 
 hardest metal can take, the strength of her conscience 
 made him the more anxious to win her. 
 
 " O, no," he replied, " there's nothing to prevent my 
 going," and so she turned and sat down to the piano 
 again, saying, " Tom went down by train this morn- 
 ing, to get everything ready, and we can follow when 
 we like." 
 
 Three hours afterward Jaycox was trudging up the 
 path to his house carrying a basket laden with house- 
 hold supplies and delicate medicinal preparations for 
 his wife. He felt depressed at the necessity of his 
 borrowing, and at the solemn prospect of further idle- 
 ness; but he grew calmer and stronger in resisting the 
 thought of surrendering what seemed to most men his 
 quixotic whims. The noise of wheels in the road at- 
 tracted him, and turning, he caught a glimpse of a 
 swiftly-rolling barouche; a pair of glossy, spirited gray 
 horses; Miss Winifred; and by her side a gentleman 
 of manly proportions and a bright, frank, still youth- 
 ful face. In a few seconds they were out of sight on 
 the cross-street which led to the railroad station.
 
 THE CONQUEST. 97 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 THE CONQUEST. 
 
 THE morning after the return of the yachting party 
 Carroll said, " I must go." 
 
 " Ah !" said Major Brewster, who had also returned 
 the night before, " we shall be sorry." 
 
 " Thank you, but I must begin my work." 
 
 " Every man knows his own business. So I never 
 urge anybody to stay, after he says he must go. Of all 
 bores your hospitable bore who undertakes to belittle 
 the importance of your movements is the worst." 
 
 " I must prepare myself for the campaign," said 
 Carroll. " I shall take your advice about attacking 
 the other side. I intend making continuous appoint- 
 ments until election." 
 
 " That is a pretty long pull," replied Brewster. 
 
 " I 'm quite equal to it," said Carroll; " I shall under- 
 take to serve as faithfully as if things had turned out 
 differently two months ago, only under the peculiar 
 circumstances, I must do it in my own way." 
 
 " Certainly," said Brewster approvingly ; " you can 
 shape your own course far better than I or any one 
 else can do it for you." 
 7
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 Miss Winifred, protected from the cool morning 
 breeze by a light, white knit shawl, was walking on the 
 veranda. The week on the water had added a shade 
 of healthful color to her delicate face, which with her 
 dignified and graceful figure, her pretty way of stop- 
 ping to greet the honeysuckles that, like Eomeo, had 
 clambered up to caress her, touched Carroll deeply, 
 and mingled with his delight at seeing her, a pang at 
 parting from her. 
 
 " I have come," he said, " to take what I wish I did 
 not have to take from you!" 
 
 What is that?" she asked. 
 
 " My leave." 
 
 " I 'm very sorry, indeed, Mr. Carroll; though I was 
 afraid it was my advice," she added laughingly. " But 
 you are not in earnest about going?" 
 
 " Yes," he said, " though I should be much more 
 in earnest about staying, if it were possible." 
 
 " It 's hardly complimentary, Mr. Carroll, to run 
 away the very moment you touch dry land. It looks 
 as if you had been a prisoner aboard the'yacht." 
 
 " On the contrary, one feels quite free on the water, 
 where business, public opinion, and conventionalities 
 can 't lay hands on you; on solid ground you area 
 slave again." 
 
 " Women feel those subtler kinds of oppression, but 
 it seems to me if I were a man, I would not submit to 
 them." 
 
 "O, men aren't half so free and independent as 
 they pretend. Between you and me, though we boast 
 a good deal, we are a set of impostors, and such skill-
 
 THE CONQUEST. 99 
 
 fnl and practical impostors that we often deceive our- 
 selves." 
 
 " Do you think that requires much skill? Men are 
 never free from vanity, at any rate." 
 
 " Well, we must be quite hopeless if we are not 
 sometimes emancipated from that weakness." 
 
 " I would really like to know when ; in the mil- 
 lennium, or the next world, perhaps." 
 
 " When a woman like yourself, says honestly what 
 she thinks of us." 
 
 " For one, I have n't vanity enough to believe it." 
 
 " Well," he said, holding out his hand, and retain- 
 ing hers until she withdrew it; " I am not free, and I 
 must go. I cannot tell you how much I am indebted 
 for the pleasure of the last two weeks." 
 
 " Thank you ! You are very good to say so. I hope 
 you won't try, because we owe you so much more, we 
 should be embarrassed for a reply." 
 
 She warded off his expressions of feeling so pleas- 
 antly, that he could not gain a foothold for his pur- 
 pose. He was almost tempted to break through her 
 delicate reserve and tell her of his love and his hopes, 
 but her very sweetness and refinement warned him 
 against any impetuosity likely to shock her. So, 
 hoping for a better opportunity, and, for the sake of 
 touching her hand, bidding her good-bye again, he 
 stepped into the carriage and was driven away. 
 
 " How pleasant he is !" she thought, as he disap- 
 peared, and she entered the house. " What a dismal 
 line of carriages!" she added, looking at the half-dozen 
 dark heavy vehicles drawn up at the side of the house,
 
 100 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 from which a score of men, in two separate squads, 
 had alighted, and were already holding conference 
 with her father. 
 
 The first was a deputation of the Northwest Labor 
 League, with several foolscap sheets of confidence in 
 their tried and trusted leader, as per resolution. 
 This "filled" him "with pride;" he had ever been 
 " on the side of down-trodden and tax-eaten labor," 
 and it should have relief, etc., etc. 
 
 At this point his secretary announced the honorable 
 Knights of Eastern Labor. 
 
 " Let them wait!" said the Major, impatiently; 
 " don't you see I am engaged on important business 
 with these honorable gentlemen from the West ?" 
 Whereupon the gentlemen of the Northwestern Labor 
 League flattered themselves that they knew a work- 
 ingman's friend when they saw him. 
 
 The secretary went into the ante-room and informed 
 the representative Knights of Eastern Labor that Major 
 Brewster would be with them the very moment he 
 could dismiss some visitors who, much to his regret, 
 were detaining him. The words of the well-trained 
 private secretary aroused in the breasts of the Eastern 
 Labor ^Representatives, no slight contempt for the 
 useless persons in the next room stupidly wasting the 
 great man's time. 
 
 They were soon admitted to his presence, and in a 
 brief space went away with the comfortable assurance 
 that Brewster's party had made no mistake in the 
 selection of a champion, and that his was the only es- 
 tablishment which even pretended to furnish the mar-
 
 THE CONQUEST. 101 
 
 ket with a pure article of reform, put up in the original 
 packages, with the genuine signature and trade-mark 
 on the wrapper. 
 
 "When a delegation from the spinners and other 
 operatives of the Roxbury Company was announced, 
 just before noon, the Major did not appear so anxious 
 to welcome these representatives of " the horny-hand- 
 ed sons of toil," for he suspected they had come on 
 different business. 
 
 Their leader was William Britton, a tall, massive 
 fellow of dark, but, -considering his indoor life, fresh 
 complexion, with curling black hair, and sharp black 
 eyes. The mental acuteness in his face was shaded 
 by a look of craft, as if one artist should superimpose 
 his own characteristic portraiture upon that of another. 
 Legends were extant of his almost colossal strength 
 of his feats in stopping machinery by main force, and 
 of holding men and bags of wool at arm's length ex- 
 aggerations, probably. 
 
 " The ' Rox ' people want an advance of ten per cent, 
 after the 15th," he said. 
 
 " Is that your discontent, or theirs? " asked Brewster, 
 almost haughtily. 
 
 " Let them say !" he replied, nodding his head 
 toward his comrades. One of them, a good deal in awe 
 of his employer, said with an air of timidity: 
 
 " Things are going up, sir, and we can't make 
 both ends meet at the end of the month." 
 
 "Sorry, sorry!" said Brewster, "but it will always 
 be so, as long as we have banker's money, instead of 
 workingman's money, and no reform in the Govern-
 
 102 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 ment. You'll Lave nothing to complain of as soon as 
 we have the power to help you. I am willing to raise 
 wages the very moment I can get the right kind of 
 money to do it with. I can not afford it now." 
 
 " We can't afford to wait," said Britton. 
 
 "But," Brewster continued, "in the present state 
 of affairs, I 'm scarcely getting anything out of it my- 
 self nothing to speak of." 
 
 "The mill is paying twelve per cent, clear," broke 
 in Britton. 
 
 "Oh! is it? "said the Major sarcastically. "I'm 
 glad to hear it. And since you know so much about 
 it, perhaps you will be so good as to tell where all the 
 money has gone to. Perhaps it's so profitable you 
 would like to take it and run it. I '11 sell any day cheap 
 for cash." 
 
 "Perhaps we would," muttered Britton, as he 
 walked away with his companions. " and we will 
 some day." And lie slightly lifted his shoulders as if 
 he were measuring his strength. 
 
 " I think it would be well to keep an eye on him," 
 suggested Lawrence Danforth. " They tell me he 's 
 the son of an English socialist, and has enormous ideas 
 of what he is to accomplish as the leader of the work- 
 men. He causes a good deal of discontent among 
 them, and has learned his trade, they say, only for the 
 advantage it gives of influencing them. lie is quite 
 looked up to by them, and looks a good deal higher 
 himself." 
 
 "He's not much to be feared," replied Brewster; 
 " at any rate he is too useful just now for me to afford
 
 THE CONQUEST. 103 
 
 to quarrel with him. I only wanted him to under- 
 stand that / would take none of his impertinence." So 
 saying he rang his table gong. 
 
 " Robert, tell Miss Winifred 1 would like to see her 
 a few minutes in the library! " 
 
 In a short time Robert reappeared. " Miss Wini- 
 fred has gone for a walk, sir."
 
 104: A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTEK XL 
 
 WINIFRED'S CANVASS. 
 
 DRESSED, according to her father's suggestion, in a 
 pretty blue cambric, thread gloves, and a leghorn hat 
 plainly trimmed, "Winifred was tripping daintily 
 along the elm and maple-lined street, when she saw 
 Dean Stratton opposite. The young man stared at 
 her new guise as if he failed to recognize her; then a 
 broad smile and a quick movement across the road 
 announced that he had solved the puzzle. 
 
 "Good morning! Sister Winifred," said he, holding 
 out his hand half-confidentially ; "do the rules of 
 the convent allow a worldly young man like me to 
 speak to you?" 
 
 He addressed her in a bantering mood, but his eyes 
 looked lovingly into hers; though he had never spo- 
 ken of love to her, she had, in the many years of 
 their common growth, become very dear to him. 
 Her maidenliness blushed at his glance, and she cast 
 down her eyes until he could scarcely see them glis- 
 tening through the fringe of her long eye-lashes, like 
 the gleam of water under the overhanging foliage of 
 the bank. Eecovering herself, she said: 
 
 "I did not know you were one of these insipid
 
 WINIFRED'S CANVASS. 105 
 
 ladies' men that always know what people have on, 
 and miss another person's ruffle or ribbon as they 'd 
 miss a button of their own." 
 
 " I see every change in you, "Winifred," he replied, 
 in tones that thrilled her. "But why this change?" 
 he went on, more lightly; "you look pretty in it, of 
 course. You could n't wear anything you would n't look 
 pretty in; but this excessive sobriety what is it, a 
 penance or a vow?" 
 
 Winifred, instinctively averse even to hinting at 
 the cause of the change in her toilet, mockingly re- 
 plied: 
 
 " Really now,, if you are getting to notice these 
 frivolous things, I shall have done with you. I don't 
 want any man-milliners or dress-makers about, I as- 
 sure you." 
 
 He laughed in turn, asking: 
 
 " May I walk with you?" 
 
 A look of pain came into her face and she said with, 
 effort: 
 
 "No, if you '11 excuse me;" then relenting, she 
 added, " at least only as far as the post-office." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that our fathers are no longer 
 friends," he said, " but of course that can 't touch our 
 friendship." 
 
 " Of course not," she replied, hesitating slightly. 
 " It 's only politics and will very soon pass away, but for 
 the present, father feels so strongly on the subject 
 that my walking with you much, would compromise 
 him and me." 
 
 His face was gloomy as he replied:
 
 106 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " It is all nonsense. What have we to do with 
 their rows? " 
 
 " Very little," she said, but he is my father, and 
 I cannot even seem to go contrary to his interests. 
 Don't think hard of me, Dean ! " 
 
 " I will never think hard of you, Winifred, but I 
 think it 's very hard luck," said the young man, rais- 
 ing his hat and bidding her good-bye. 
 
 On the platform in front of the post-office, stood a 
 stalwart fellow of Dean's own age. On seeing Strat- 
 ton take leave of her, and perceiving their evident in- 
 terest in each other, Britton muttered to himself: 
 
 "Wait a bit, you fine-haired monkey! There are 
 others as good as you will have their turn some day. 
 It would be the makin' of such a pup to knock the 
 stuifin' out of him." 
 
 Winifred's kind look and the word of thanks she 
 had once given Britton in the factory for opening the 
 heavy outside door which the wind held fast, had 
 roused daring hopes and bitter jealousy within him ; 
 even those who knew him, little dreamed of his ambi- 
 tions. 
 
 Winifred, somewhat saddened by her thoughts, 
 walked on. She felt assured that her father's in- 
 junction against having anything more to do with the 
 Strattons had special reference to her intimacy with 
 Dean, which began so early in their toddling lives she 
 could not remember its origin. She used to wait at the 
 gate for him in the morning and return from school 
 with him in the afternoon. The river, now a sullen 
 stream stained and murky with the refuse dye-stuffs
 
 WJNIFRED'S CANVASS. 107 
 
 from the factories, was then half brook, half torrent, 
 through which he paddled, barefoot, while she, hold- 
 ing his hand, leaped across from stone to stone. 
 
 Saturday afternoons they roamed the woods in search 
 of the trailing arbutus, violets, and spring beauties, or 
 the bitter-sweet, the clematis, the golden-rod and 
 fringed-gentian, " blue-eyed pet of blue-eyed lover. " 
 Her laugh was merry and free. She was by no means 
 a prirn little maiden in those days, yet always tender, 
 and compliant even in her romps. She went with the 
 boys to catch frogs, played " I spy " and " Hide-and- 
 seek, " or celebrated her cats ' funerals, at which she 
 was generally the only sincere mourner, Dean regard- 
 ing them as a good joke and a burlesque of what was 
 always too solemn and oppressive to him. Winifred's 
 aunt who, until her marriage, took the mother's place 
 in the household, frowned upon this wild life. But 
 the father frowned in turn at the aunt. 
 
 " Let her romp as much as she likes," lie said: 
 " her mother was not strong, and she needs all the 
 health she can store up. " 
 
 But this came to an end when Dean, going to col- 
 lege and Winifred to boarding-school, felt the re- 
 straints which their wider experiences put upon the 
 confidences of youth. 
 
 After passing the post office she went on to a little 
 settlement of cottages at the other end of the street. 
 One of them with its green blinds and a small portico 
 of green lattice-work at the front door, was " grand- 
 father " Cleland's. A path of white gravel, bordered 
 with many colored flowers, ran from the white picket
 
 108 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 * 
 
 gate to the door. An acre of ground attached was de- 
 voted largely to vegetables which the old gentleman 
 said he cultivated, for the " home market " principally, 
 meaning his own table. In the open window stood 
 boxes and pots of flowers, and at the portico hung iron 
 baskets of plants. The principal room was plainly 
 furnished. A few books, including a leathern -covered 
 bible, which the old man used for a razor-strop Sun- 
 day morning and nodded over in the afternoon, "Ele- 
 ments of Drawing " and a History of the Civil War lay 
 on a set of corded shelves. There was an engraving or 
 two on the walls, and a vilely colored p'rint though it's 
 value was priceless to young Mrs. Cleland depicting 
 in fire that was redder than the blood, with horses more 
 fiery than the fire, and men thicker than the smoke, 
 the battle at which her husband was, for his bravery, 
 promoted to a second lieutenancy. In one corner stood 
 a sewing-machine, in another an artist's easel and a 
 low pine-table belonging to her crippled son, who 
 though approaching manhood, seemed with his dwarfed 
 stature and crooked legs, to be waiting in protracted 
 youth, for a form befitting his manly years. To this 
 table he screwed the odd pieces of oak and black wal- 
 nut which he used in learning to carve. The support 
 of him and herself had always depended upon her 
 earnings. Young Cleland, her husband, had just 
 served his apprenticeship at clock-making when the 
 war broke out. He was killed in the very last skirm- 
 ish after nearly all the main bodies of the confederates 
 had surrendered. The boy was yet unborn, when, on 
 reading the telegram announcing her husband's death, 
 she fell in a dead faint upon the floor.
 
 WINIFRED'S CANVASS. 109 
 
 She loved this boy passionately, loved. him all the 
 more because he had been defrauded of the strength 
 and joy of boyhood. She took unalloyed pleasure in 
 looking at his intelligent gray eyes, his well-shaped 
 mouth, and his round forehead, on which his chestnut 
 curls thickly clustered. She listened with wonder at 
 what seemed to her, his quaint speeches; and her hard, 
 ill -paid work was rewarded by his confiding affection 
 and budding artistic talents. He was not nine years 
 old, when with a pair of scissors and a sheet of brown 
 paper he formed startlingly vivid figures of men and 
 trees, and animals, gymnasts, a funeral procession, 
 a rearing horse, deer chased by the hounds, whose 
 heads were sticking over the hill in hot pursuit. 
 
 Three or four years before, a clerkship in theTreasury 
 Department at Washington, had been procured for 
 his mother. She discharged its duties with fidelity and 
 capacity; but was, without warning removed one day, 
 because Congressman Pingree, of Ohio, wanted a re- 
 election. One of his " men," on whom he had greatly 
 relied to " work up " his district, suddenly " balked," 
 as Pingree remarked, demanding assurances of some- 
 thing more substantial than Pingree had yet given 
 him. So Mrs. Cleland had " to go " to make a place 
 for Pingree's man's sister-in-law. The head of her 
 bureau wrote her a letter of regret, testifying to her 
 faithfulness and ability, and entirely disclaiming re- 
 sponsibility for a change alike unjust to her and inju- 
 rious to the service. After her return to her home 
 in Roxbury, some further efforts had been made in 
 her behalf; but as yet vainly. On the expiration of
 
 110 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 Congressman Filigree's term, her restoration to the 
 place was hoped for, and in this expectancy, she had 
 refrained from undertaking any work indeed her 
 years of routine official life had seriously unfitted her 
 for other occupation and by means of her sewing- 
 machine she secured only a mere pittance. 
 
 It was with the greatest difficulty that old Cleland 
 kept up the payments of interest on the place they 
 began buying with the little money saved from the 
 young lieutenant's pay. While prices were rising 
 after the war, the old man had several chances to sell 
 it, but, imagining always that he could do better, he 
 was unwilling to let it go. The panic of 1873 dashed 
 the poor weak man to pieces, and, from that time, he 
 gave up hopes of eve* ridding himself of his burden. 
 He felt as if a growing tumor were destined, the rest 
 of his days, to weigh him to the earth. 
 
 "Winifred's mother had, during her young orphanage, 
 taken a warm interest in Mrs. Cleland. She had sent 
 her to school, and in the vacations given her a home. 
 Winifred was too young to know her, but, subse- 
 quently apprised of this intimacy, renewed the ac- 
 quaintance in Washington, and lately by occasional 
 visits to the cottage. 
 
 Mrs. Cleland sat plying her machine, a large pile 
 of blue " overalls " lying on the floor. Young Cleland, 
 in his low wheeled-chair, with pallette and brushes, 
 was filling in a sketch he had just been making. The 
 old man, tired of his hot morning's drudgery, had nod- 
 ded off to sleep at the window, lopping in an armed 
 rocking chair, whose hard wooden bottom was relieved
 
 WINIFRED'S CANVASS. Ill 
 
 by a feather cushion, the slippery corpulence of which 
 would have startled an unwonted sitter with the belief 
 that a maternal fowl had already established a squatter 
 sovereignty over the sedentary privileges of the chair. 
 The wind gently fanned his gray hair. It being the 
 last of the week, his face was covered with a thick, 
 white stubble, which increased the wan look of fatigue 
 and care, that did not slip off even in the oblivion of 
 sleep. 
 
 After greeting Adelaide and her son, "Winifred 
 turned to the old man, who had waked up, and asked 
 after his health. 
 
 "Tolable! tolable! only tolable, only tolable. 
 Squeezed een-a-most ter death by the hard times: 
 waitin ' for the major 's election ; then we '11 hev a let- 
 tie easin ' up, I guess. 
 
 "I hope so," said Winifred;"! hear everybody 
 saying so, and it frightens me. There may be some 
 mistake and disappointment, and then how they will 
 talk about him. I wish he were n't a politician." 
 
 " Robert always liked him," said Mrs. Cleland; " he 
 thought he took care of his men. If women voted, I 
 would vote for him, for Eobert's and your mother's 
 sake; but I don't understand these questions." 
 
 " I do n't think that ever hinders men from voting, 3 ' 
 said the youth. 
 
 "Have you enough work?" asked Winifred, kindly, 
 and her son replied: 
 
 " She 's enough work, but such little pay. Why is 
 it that hard work does n't bring more money ? Grand- 
 pa works from morning till night, and she seems to
 
 112 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 work from night till morning, for she 's at it when I 
 go to sleep and when I wake up." 
 
 "'T would be easy 'nuff," said the old man, in pip- 
 ing-voice, " if 't wa 'n't that the house is shingled from 
 the eaves to the ridge pole with a mortgage; but when 
 it takes all I can rake and scrape just to save it from 
 slippin' out o' my hands, and losin' nearly all I have 
 put into it the last fifteen year! It 's hard, it 's mighty 
 hard; an' that 's why 1 'm in favor o' plenty o' money. 
 After I 'm out of my trouble, I '11 go agin enny 
 more." 
 
 " I do n't know much about these things, Winifred," 
 said Mrs. Cleland, "but, if when he's president your 
 father can help us as he says he can, I look forward to 
 it as if I were coming into a fortune; if he can't, it 
 will be a bitter disappointment, and it 's very cruel of 
 him to pretend he can." 
 
 " Father never would do so cruel a thing," replied 
 Winifred, " you don 't know how kind he is. No girl 
 ever had a father like him. I can 't remember his 
 speaking a harsh word to me. I am almost afraid to 
 say I want anything it seems like taking advantage 
 of him. JJe hardly gives me a chance. He's not 
 capable of deceiving anybody; I 'm sure. Of course, 
 in politics they say all kinds of hard things about him, 
 but it 's because they do not know him as I do, or they 
 never would." 
 
 The young girl was so aglow with her candid and 
 unselfish enthusiasm that her father had not in all the 
 ranks of those who, actuated by hopes of reward, were 
 laboring for him, so effective a " canvasser."
 
 WINIFRED'S CANVASS. 113 
 
 " I always thought so," said Adelaide. " He was 
 always kind to your mother, always pleasant and at- 
 tentive." 
 
 " That 's not the only thing," interrupted the old 
 man, following the coarse of his thoughts instead of 
 the conversation. " He's helped us 'specially Ad'- 
 laide; he's allus been kind to Ad'laide; but he's lost 
 his place; been talkin' too much, talkin' too much; 
 some people are allus wan tin' to talk; it never does a 
 body any good, as I can make out." 
 
 " O, never mind that now, father," said Adelaide. 
 
 " I wonder if Arthur remembers how the brook and 
 old mill and the old bridge looked when he was a 
 boy?" asked Winifred, suddenly. 
 
 "Very well. I used to sketch it. I think I Ve got 
 some of them now, though they are pretty rude." 
 
 "I wish you would paint it for me," she said, slip- 
 ping the contents of her purse into Adelaide's hand, 
 and whispering, "That is all I have with me, and it's 
 only an installment. I would like it as a souvenir 
 very much indeed," she added, aloud. 
 
 The tears came into the mother's eyes at this deli- 
 cate expression of the young girl's sympathy, and at 
 her recognition of her son's talents. 
 
 "You are your mother's daughter, Miss Winifred. 
 She always seemed happier making other people happy- 
 than those she made so." 
 
 " I love to hear you say that. I 'd like nothing so 
 much in all the world as to be like her and leave so 
 sweet a memory; with so many to speak of me gently 
 and gratefully, as they all do even to this day. I will
 
 114: - A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 come again soon," she added, with, her charming smile, 
 and kissing, with almost sisterly affection, the poor 
 woman to whom the brief sunshine of her presence 
 was so warm and reviving. 
 
 The old man, rising as she went out, dropped a letter 
 he had forgotten to deliver to his daughter. Catching 
 sight of the Washington postmark, Adelaide seized it 
 and broke it open. It announced her reappointment 
 to her old place, dating from the middle of the suc- 
 ceeding month. The heavy burden of anxiety that 
 had for two long years rested heavily upon her seemed 
 to fly up the chimney or out of the window. She 
 burst into a little song of happiness, the color tinged 
 her cheeks, she threw her arms almost ecstatically 
 around her boy, and then kissed the old man's fore- 
 head. 
 
 " You shall have tools and models and teachers, my 
 darling! You shall make your mother happy and 
 proud of her boy! We will always live together, and 
 I will lay by enough to give poor grandfather his home 
 here as long as he " 
 
 She stopped suddenly, her look of joy recoiling into 
 her wonted anxiety. She thought, "Oh I oh! they'll 
 be sure not to let me have it long!"
 
 .y THE BRIDGE. .115 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ON THE BRIDGE. 
 
 ON her way home, Winifred stopped a moment in 
 the center of the bridge, to look over the parapet and 
 up the stream. There had been since her childhood 
 comparatively few changes in this neighborhood. The 
 old grist-mill, still standing, and, for that matter, still 
 " going," looked as if it were tumbling into the river. 
 The moss-edged flume and the stringers atop, recalled 
 Dean's falling into the mill race, while " bobbing for 
 eels," one moonlight night, and her brother Tom's 
 rescuing him. There were the three huge piles, shor- 
 ing up the old mill next the bank, capped with the 
 flour and the meal that sifted through the loose clap- 
 boards. Dean and Winifred used to call them the " dea- 
 cons," because they reminded them of the three gray- 
 haired church officials who sat in the same pew " Com- 
 munion Sunday," and passed the symbols of that 
 service. 
 
 The long poles, formerly stretching from one un- 
 hewn granite boulder to another, and forming the 
 guards of the old bridge, were displaced by a parapet 
 of masonry that adorned the handsome arched struc- 
 ture which now spanned the water. The little old
 
 116 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 bridge lay along close to the surface of tlie stream, 
 but its high-stepping successor leaped across at an 
 aristocratic height. The convenient stones in the bed 
 of the river had disappeared. 
 
 She stood there thinking of those old days, and the 
 sweet peace and delight of them, the innocence of 
 her affection for Dean, and the deeper but less 
 tranquil emotion which was now stirred at sight 
 and thought of him. It was the difference between 
 the light and happy babbling of the old brook, and 
 the sweeping current of the fuller flood that rolled 
 beneath her. 
 
 At this moment her attention was attracted by 
 the figure of a man who was coining toward her. 
 With the vague hope of seeing her again, William 
 Britton had hurried his dinner and gone out upon the 
 street. In addition to the promptings of his self- 
 esteem, and his confidence in his good looks, he was 
 only consistent with his creed in believing that he 
 was her equal and had a right to be treated as such. 
 He stood on the steps of the post-office, awaiting her 
 reappearance. As he descried her in the distance, he 
 began stroking his moustache and adjusting his hat. 
 As she came nearer he grew confused with his pur- 
 pose, and his inability to devise means of carrying it 
 out. Should he go boldly up and speak to her? She 
 would resent it. Should he make an excuse by asking 
 some trivial question? She would answer it and pass 
 on, perhaps pass on without answering. 
 
 " I think I '11 bow to her," he said to himself. It '11 
 make her stare, maybe, but that won 't hurt anybody.
 
 ON THE BRIDGE. 117 
 
 I 'm better looking than the whole batch o' swells 
 she 's used to." 
 
 At this moment she stopped, and Britton strolled 
 toward her, affecting an ease he did not feel. He 
 was just stepping on the bridge, and to her astonish- 
 ment, acting as if he were about speaking to her, 
 when a loud tumult arose among the crowd of opera- 
 tives behind him, on their way to their work. They 
 were looking intently up a side street which joined 
 the main one near the bridge. Then around the 
 corner, at frightful speed, plunged a pair of driver- 
 less horses, dragging with great leaps a farmer's 
 heavy wagon. ' They wheeled upon the bridge. 
 Winifred's hands slipped from the rounded coping of 
 the parapet which she vainly tried to climb, and sink- 
 ing helpless upon her knees, as if in supplication to 
 the insane brutes, she shut her eyes to her dreadful 
 fate, and whispered, "God take me!" 
 
 As in a dream or fog she saw a giant jump at 
 the heads of the plunging horses. They sheered from 
 him, and he caught one of their flying reins. It 
 whirled him around, threw him down, and dragged 
 him on the ground till it broke. It swerved the mad- 
 dened brutes toward "Winifred's side of the bridge. 
 The horse nearest her madly leaped upon the para- 
 pet, falling astride of it, and launching out his heels 
 furiously a few inches from her head. 
 
 "Get up, miss, get up!" cried Britton, running 
 toward her. 
 
 She opened her eyes and vainly tried to rise. Was 
 she paralyzed with fear?
 
 118 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 The forward wheel of the heavily-loaded wagon 
 resting upon her garments and just grazing her knee, 
 pinned her helplessly to the floor. 
 
 Britton ran and lifted the enormous weight, strain- 
 ing every cord in his body, until he felt as if the liga- 
 tures were breaking. 
 
 "Get away from it, miss! as quick as you can," he 
 muttered, for the muscular tension prevented his 
 speaking loud. 
 
 She crawled away, and Britton lowered his burden 
 to the ground. He held out his hand and lifted her 
 up. She looked gratefully up in his face and smiled 
 faintly as she rallied her strength and self-possession. 
 Great beads of perspiration stood on his forehead, 
 his powerful hands trembled with the strain to which 
 he had been put. 
 
 "Are you hurt?" she asked, in timid sympathetic 
 tones, which made him almost sorry he was not. 
 
 "No, miss, but I wonder you ain't." 
 
 By this time a crowd had gathered, and she shrank 
 from the stares and questions of which the two were 
 the center. She heard exclamations of pleasure and 
 surprise at her wonderful escape, and of admiration 
 and something like awe at Britton's strength. A 
 great hubbub too wfl,s raised by the attempt of every eye- 
 witness to testify to what he saw of the affair, which 
 in his opinion, was the most important part of it. 
 
 She had to say again and again that she was un- 
 hurt; that she owed her life to "this this gentle- 
 man," she called him, though she was not in the habit of 
 speaking of the operatives in those terms. In her
 
 ON THE BRIDGE. 119 
 
 gratitude for her deliverance she felt as if he must be one. 
 
 " What is your name?" she asked, as she moved 
 homeward. " My father will not forget you." 
 
 " Britton. I 'm a spinner at the l Rox.' " said lie, 
 half defiantly. " I would have saved the life of any 
 body, much more you." 
 
 Winifred blushed deeply at the compliment boldly 
 paid her in the hearing of a street crowd. However, 
 she could not very well insist that a man should be 
 qualified to risk his life for hers by first being delicate 
 and well-bred. She had really not had time, when the 
 horses came tearing down upon her, to select an en- 
 tirely suitable rescuer. 
 
 " Father will not allow you to be forgotten," she 
 repeated, bowing to him and walking off, he raising 
 his hat politely to her. 
 
 Hearing that her father was at the mill, and anx- 
 ious lest exaggerated rumors of her danger should 
 reach him, she went there at once. 
 
 He stood in the vestibule talking with the superin- 
 tendent about repairs. Near the door leading into the 
 weaving-room a huge shaft, pulley, and belt communi- 
 cated the power to the looms. As the women passed 
 in and out their dresses often swept dangerously near 
 the big wheel; why some of them had not been drawn 
 in and dashed to pieces, was a perpetual miracle. 
 
 " Something ought to be done about that, " said the 
 superintendent. "There '11 be an accident some day, 
 and an awful row made over our negligence. It can 't 
 be covered just where it is. It ought to be moved 
 ten feet to the right and boxed in. "
 
 120 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 "How much will it cost?" asked the major, 
 " Two or three hundred dollars and the loss froir 
 stopping, though I suppose it might be partly done or 
 Sunday. It 's an awkward job. I 'm 'fraid, we '11 
 have to shift the shafting all through the room. " 
 
 " Tell them to be careful ! There is going to be a 
 strike I think pretty soon. Then there '11 be leisure. " 
 
 SuperintendentClegg shook his head doubtfully, but 
 the major said no more about it, and at this moment 
 the operatives came pouring in. Just behind them, still 
 pale and trembling, but glad to see that her father was 
 not troubled about her, was Winifred. He greeted her, 
 as he always did, with a smile. 
 
 " O, father ! " she cried " I 'm so glad you didn 't 
 hear. It was perfectly awful, but I was in danger less 
 than half a minute, though it seemed like forever." 
 
 " What is it, dear ? What do you mean ? You in 
 danger! " he exclaimed almost as anxious for her as if 
 slie were not safe and alive before him. 
 
 She told him what had happened and was warm and 
 eager in her praise of Britton. 
 
 Her father frowned when his name was mentioned. 
 He disliked him. He could not tell exactly why ; per- 
 haps because he was a rival friend and champion of the 
 workingman's cause. 
 
 " I will reward him," said her father, smoothing her 
 hair, which had become disordered. 
 
 While ehe was talking, the machinery had been set 
 in motion. She stood directly in front of the big pul- 
 ley now revolving with great speed. The draft through 
 the mill raised and fluttered her dress, holding it tempt-
 
 ON THE BRIDGE. 121 
 
 ingly out toward the belted monster, daring him to 
 seize it, teasing him by lifting it almost within his 
 grasp, and then dropping it again. Her father, absorb- 
 ed in the story of her escape, did not at first notice this 
 frightful coquetry, sporting with his daughter's life. 
 Suddenly he grasped her and dragged her away. His 
 feelings were a mixture of love, terror, and that anger 
 which sometimes follows great fear, tempting the 
 mother to -chastise the infant she has just snatched 
 from under the hoofs of a horse or from the brink 
 of a well. 
 
 " Winifred! you reckless girl. Have you set out to 
 see how badly you can frighten us! You were within 
 an inch of being caught by that belting there! Shall 
 I shut you up in the house?" 
 
 Then he was sorry; for she was badly shaken by her 
 day's adventures. So he made her take his arm and 
 they walked home to dinner. The same afternoon he 
 ordered the place made absolutely safe without re- 
 gard to cost or loss. 
 
 Dean Stratton was tortured by hearing of her danger 
 and his inability to go and comfort her. He was even 
 jealous of Britton's exploits and resented the praise of 
 his strength which he had in common with oxen, and 
 his good looks, which, with his black moustache, curl- 
 ing dark hair and heavy eyebrows, probably did not 
 surpass those of Italian bandits. Combined with a flip- 
 pant scorn and an unruly temper these endowed him 
 with an attraction that fascinated chiefly by its sugges- 
 tion of strong and reckless passions. 
 
 In the afternoon the major enclosed to Britton a
 
 122 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 check for a hundred dollars with a well- written note of 
 thanks. Most of the money was spent for a dinner 
 with expensive wines to which he invited a score of 
 his comrades, where they talked of the wrongs of the 
 workingmen and the vices of the aristocrats. 
 
 " You 've got to bring 'em to terms," said Frank 
 Harmon. "Crowd 'em to their knees! Make 'em 
 feel what we feel ! Give 'em a turn at our rations and 
 our work! There's that beltin' that shows how it 
 works. I told the boss more 'n once somebody 'd get 
 their very innards tored inside out. My sister and 
 my eldest gal went by it every day. But he only said, 
 ' Pooh ! pooh ! ' The old man would n't hear to it. < Let 
 
 people be careful !' says he; but by , the minnit 
 
 that skim-milk, baby-faced young 'un came within a 
 rod of it, every thin' was tored up, a whole set of looms 
 stopped, and the devil to pay gen'ully. That 's what 
 fetches 'em! Give 'em a taste on't themselves an' 
 they '11 come to their milk, I tell you!" 
 
 Britton did not relish his comrade's description of 
 his employer's pretty daughter, but was not disposed 
 to quarrel with his views about capitalists and work- 
 ing-people. 
 
 In the middle of the week, the express brought a 
 package directed to Miss Winifred Brewster. At 
 the dinner-table she spread out a wide and elegant fan 
 on which was painted, by a French artist, an exquis- 
 ite marine view. Off a pleasant coast a graceful yacht 
 under full sail was dashing along in the bright sun- 
 shine of a summer day. A brief note begged her 
 acceptance, and hoped it would in a measure supply
 
 V THE BRIDGE. 123 
 
 the place of the delicious breezes that had wafted the 
 giver such pleasure on tliat notable week. She could 
 not repress her delight at the beauty and taste of the 
 gift. 
 
 " Carroll is prompt," said her father, slyly. " It's 
 less than three days since he went away. You muet 
 make suitable acknowledgment; though I suppose he 
 might attach some significance to your acceptance 
 of it." 
 
 "I should be very sorry to have him," she said, 
 seriously, and without the faintest shade of coquetry. 
 "You would not wish it, of course?" 
 
 "I? You know I have never uttered a syllable 
 intended to influence you in such matters but Mr. 
 Carroll's relations with me are important, and I should 
 not like to have you disturb them. I would be glad 
 to have you forward them, if" he added, seeing a 
 shadow flit across her face "it were quite voluntary 
 on your part." 
 
 " I want to stay with you, father," she exclaimed. 
 " You can not do without' me or at least you are to 
 think you can't; and I'll not open your eyes by going 
 away. When Mr. Carroll sends messages and presents 
 I want you to feel jealous, and think how lonely you 
 would be if I were to leave you to the tender mercies 
 of pious Mrs. Griggs, our housekeeper, and her * Daily 
 Food.' She would make you learu a verse of scripture 
 every morning for breakfast." 
 
 "It's a bargain," said her father; "You shall not 
 be besieged or besought, if you do not like. "We '11 
 never dissolve the partnership; business shall be con-
 
 124: A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 ducted at the old stand, under the firm of Brewster & 
 Daughter no other ' families supplied at short no- 
 tice.' " 
 
 He went on in a rollicking way quite unusual with 
 him, until she forgot what further she had intended 
 to say on the subject which, in fact, was the purpose 
 of his almost boisterous hilarity.
 
 COUNTING THE VOTE. 125 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 COUNTING THE VOTE. 
 
 v 
 
 WITH lights ablaze, Major Brewster stood in the 
 parlor of the Monster Hotel, New York, which for 
 several months had been the " headquarters " of the 
 National Committee of his party. Up to twelve 
 o'clock he had remained at his private house, whither 
 the dispatches had been sent from the " headquar- 
 ters;" but, growing impatient with this second-hand 
 method of procuring information, he had, after mid- 
 night, been driven to the rooms of the committee. 
 
 The carpet of the hotel was so covered with " cam- 
 paign documents " copies of speeches and party 
 "platforms" and with scraps of writing-paper and 
 envelopes, that its figure was nearly hidden under the 
 mimic snow-storm. Three or four tables were littered 
 with pens, ink-stands, pencils, telegraph-messages, 
 and sheets of paper covered with figures. The 
 grave, silent groups of men, and the irregular atti- 
 tude of the chairs, gave the whole apartment an air 
 of by-gone tumult. Through an atmosphere, more or 
 less clouded with tobacco smoke, one could see in an ad- 
 joining room a table, covered with relics of cold meat 
 and oysters, cups with stains of coffee, glasses with
 
 126 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 heel-taps of champaign, broken biscuit, salad, and 
 half-emptied dishes of fruit. 
 
 In the main room a tinge of wan daylight at length 
 dimmed the flaring lamps, and cast a grayish hue upon 
 the tired faces, suggestive of declining health, or ad- 
 vancing years. The hands of the clock pointed to a 
 quarter of six. The silence was almost awesome, as 
 each disappointed face looked solemnly into its neigh- 
 bor's. Major Brewster brought this to a close by say- 
 ing to the politicians, secretaries, and two newspaper 
 reporters, lingering for the latest news. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen, all roads lead to Rome, and wo 
 have tried but one. Let 's go to bed and start again 
 to-morrow, or rather this afternoon." 
 
 So saying, with bright eye, and firm, clear voice, lie 
 dismissed them, and ordering himself to be called at 
 midday, was sound asleep before the dawn had fairly 
 streaked the eastern sky. 
 
 It was the dawn of the morning after the election. 
 For twelve hours, half the North American continent 
 had been the scene of a concentrated mental activity 
 unequaled, perhaps, at any other time or place. Two 
 hundred thousand men, more or less, had, between 
 dark and sunrise, been finding out what eight millions 
 had already done between sunrise and dark. During 
 these vigils they counted, tallied, checked, copied, ran 
 to and fro, sent, received, corrected, added, subtracted, 
 percentaged, printed. Men on horseback, messengers 
 in vehicles, had, by the light of the stars, ridden over 
 lonely mountain roads, or along prairie tracks, bring- 
 ing the " returns" from excommunicated towns to the
 
 COUNTING THE VOTE. 127 
 
 nearest telegraph stations. In a thousand telegraph 
 offices, from dusk till dawn, the unresting instruments 
 had, in endless repetition, clicked off the names of the 
 candidates, and the million combinations of digits at- 
 tached thereto. A regiment of editors, sodden with 
 work and sleeplessness, ended a night of unusual toil 
 by throwing paper, pencils, almanacs, blanks, newspa- 
 per-files, and memoranda thankfully down ; while in- 
 numerable printers set the last type, and wended their 
 way to long-coveted beds; the glow of the horizon 
 flushing even their pale, leaden complexions, bleached 
 by years of sunlessness and hot, bad air. 
 
 O*n this bright, crisp November morning, the sun, 
 whose engagements elsewhere the night before forbade 
 his staying to overlook the counting at the polls and 
 perhaps prevent "mistakes," had made haste, as"if 
 anxious about the result, to return at break of day, 
 and receive, in all the larger places, the loud, shrill 
 welcome of those city chanticleers the newsboys. 
 Pie looked cheerfully in upon the breakfast tables and 
 saw innumerable cups of coffee growing cold, and the 
 temper of countless wives growing warm, as the hus- 
 band, unheedful of both, sat absorbing the telegraphic 
 columns of the morning paper. Its broad pages had 
 broken out with the numerals of Arabia; for even 
 Bunkery's ingenuity had failed to invent a native 
 American system of figures, and the humiliation of 
 resorting to foreign symbols was forced upon the un- 
 selfish patriot in common with the knavish " Shylock" 
 and the avaricious "gold-bug." 
 
 The essence 01 all tnis marvelous complexity of
 
 128 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 voluntary human agency working to a unity of pur- 
 pose and result, was summed up in one official dis- 
 patch from Senator Joslyn, commander-iii-chief of 
 the other party. His experienced glance, sweeping 
 the vast field which the telegraph had mapped out 
 before him, announced that the returns from all the 
 States showed an equal number of electoral votes for 
 each candidate, and a consequent failure of choice by 
 the people. This would throw the election into the 
 House of Representatives, where, if his opponents 
 counted the votes fairly, of which there was no assur- 
 ance, Brewster would be defeated. Joslyn had, as he 
 threatened, put Brewster in the " nineholes." 
 
 It was upon the receipt of this bulletin, that Brews- 
 ter, bidding his friends good-morning, went to his 
 sweet repose. 
 
 The same afternoon lie set out for Roxbury, arriving 
 in time for supper. Early in the morning he sent for 
 Clegg, the superintendent, and putting aside all that 
 gentleman's allusions to the election, said: 
 
 "What have you got for me? I 've done with the 
 past at least for the present." 
 
 Clegg, after exhibiting numerous inyoices, vouchers 
 and drafts, handed him the check-book with several 
 checks ready for his signature. After which he drew 
 out two or three broken letters. 
 
 "Here are some complaints," said Clegg; "all in 
 the same line. They want to know what 's the matter. 
 They hope it '11 be better after the election." 
 
 " What is the matter?" asked Brewster. 
 
 "The nnish isn't what it used to be. Paxton,
 
 COUNTING THE VOTE. 129 
 
 Brunswick and Company say we must be working up 
 the sheep whole, or we 'd get the mutton tallow out.- 
 I suppose it 's the oil. The scouring 's bad and the 
 fine-drawing is n't what it should be." 
 
 " Well, Clegg, it is pretty impudent in you to come 
 to me with these things. It 's your business to see to 
 the work. "Why do n't you get help that will do it 
 well?" 
 
 " I had a man one of the best I know of and you 
 made me dismiss him. I 'd like to take him back." 
 
 "Who is that?" 
 
 " Jaycox." 
 
 The major frowned. 
 
 " He did n't know enough to mind his own busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " Well, now the thing 's over, had n't we better get 
 him back?" asked Clegg. 
 
 " Take him back! " cried the major. " No, not if I 
 have to go to making cheese cloth. I don't care that, 
 on Ms account, but it would demoralize the men." 
 
 "But " 
 
 " But ! ' < but ! '" echoed Brewster. "Get a man to 
 attend to the business and stop these complaints! It is 
 my belief you 've been letting the thing run along in 
 the hopes of putting Jaycox back. I will not have any 
 more fooling, let me tell you." 
 
 There was a good deal of truth in this, for Jaycox 
 was so trustworthy that he relieved Clegg of anxiety 
 and trouble, and the superintendent had been trying 
 to do with make-shifts and force Brewster to reinstate 
 him. 
 
 9
 
 130 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 "Jaycox called on me to-day," continued Clegg, 
 " and he 's a good deal broken down. His voice was 
 husky, and he looked thin and pinched. Says he, 
 * Mr. Clegg, I 'm starved out. I owe more 'n I 'm 
 ashamed to say. I have n't been able to get any but 
 odd jobs, and if I go away there's no one to take care 
 of my sick wife and the children. If there 's any- 
 thing '11 break a man down it 's the thought o' the 
 little one's crying for a bit to eat, and nothing to give 
 'em ; or the wife's comfort and life depending on what 
 you can 't get for her. And so, seeing the fight 's 
 over, I came to say, if you 'd take me back, I 'd agree 
 to make no trouble after this.' " 
 
 "And what did you tell him?" asked Brewster, 
 sharply. 
 
 "I said I'm afraid we can't do anything for you, 
 but I '11 put your case before the major. He's not 
 the man to overlook a thing of the kind." 
 
 " Quite right," said the major, opening his check 
 book. " I will help him along, but I '11 not take him 
 back." 
 
 He had just finished writing out a check when a 
 telegram was put in his hands. Laying down his pen, 
 opening the dispatch, hastily reading it, muttering 
 an exclamation, taking out his watch, and turning to 
 Clegg, he said: 
 
 " Send my man to the station to drive back your horse 
 and buggy; I must catch the 10:30 express." 
 
 Putting on his overcoat as he walked rapidly to the 
 street where Clegg's horse stood, he jumped into the 
 wagon and drove at full speed to the station, stepping
 
 COUNTING THE VOTE. 131 
 
 on the train after it was in motion. The same even- 
 ing he was at his house in the city. 
 
 The whole country was in a state of intense excite- 
 ment over the announcement that one small State 
 casting three electoral votes was now in doubt. In 
 two days it was so full of "visiting statesmen " that 
 the original inhabitants were in danger of being 
 crowded out. This State Avas curiously divided be- 
 tween its "hard money" and Southern sympathies; 
 and although the first reports apparently threw it on 
 the former side, news from the remoter districts was 
 turning it over to Brewster. 
 
 Senator Joslyn was besieged from all quarters to 
 know the meaning of this new phase of affairs. 
 
 "Possess your souls in patience! " was his only an- 
 swer; " Joslyn has said that Brewster is defeated, and 
 you never knew Joslyn to go back on his word." 
 
 Each side accused the other of intimidating or brib- 
 ing the State officials in charge of the counting; at 
 any rate the returns under various pretexts were being 
 delayed until the approach of the day appointed for 
 counting them. 
 
 The evening before this day, Major Brewster was 
 sitting in the business room of his city house with 
 Danforth, Perceval, politicians and newspaper men, 
 when in came a cipher dispatch addressed to Danforth. 
 In the presence of all the company, the major asked 
 to see it, and knit his brows angrily at it. 
 
 "Bead that aloud in plain English, Danforth?" he 
 said, stamping his foot. " I will have none of this 
 sneaking, underhand cipher business; I'm not afraid
 
 132 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 to let daylight shine right through every square inch 
 of my doings." 
 
 The reporters jotted down his words as he spoke. 
 In a few minutes Danforth read the dispatch: 
 
 " I can buy the Board of State Canvassers for $50,- 
 000 cash; "VVill you consent?" 
 
 (Signed), " BRINDLE Cow." 
 
 " What do you think of that?" cried the major. 
 " Cattle! actually putting themselves up at auction. 
 Sounds like a fable from 2Esop. The other side has 
 offered forty thousand ! That is what that means. 
 Joslyn has looked after that. I want you, gentlemen," 
 he said, turning to the reporters, " to see my answer." 
 
 The next day the above telegram, together with the 
 major's comments upon it, and the following reply, 
 was published in all the newspapers: 
 
 "To THOMAS STARKEY: The sending- of another dispatch like 
 that just received will insure yonr immediate dismissal from my 
 employment. I will not be so insulted. I want and will hare 
 every legal vote to which I am entitled. If anybody has anything 
 to sell, let him apply to those who will buy, not to me." 
 
 Even the major's opponents were obliged to admit 
 that, with all his faults, they never knew him to be 
 caught in a corrupt act in politics. 
 
 After dictating the above reply, he said : 
 
 " The American people are fools to expose them- 
 selves to such dangers, and their candidate to such 
 temptations. This whole system of electing a presi- 
 dent ought to have been thrown overboard years 
 ago." 
 
 His visitors soon after departing, Brewster and Dan- 
 forth found themselves alone in the room. He mo-
 
 COUNTING THE VOTE. 133 
 
 tioned his secretary to a chair near him, and Danforth 
 sat down in a respectful and expectant attitude. For 
 more than ten years he had stood in the closest possi- 
 ble relations with his employer. Indeed, that term is 
 too formal and cool to describe the intimacy, faithful- 
 ness, and affection existing between them. It was even 
 closer and more confidential than that of father and 
 son, at least of most fathers and sons, for it was one 
 of entire independence on Danfortli's part, and, as a 
 natural consequence, of neither strained nor arbitrary 
 authority on Brewster's. He was the depository of 
 Brewster's plans, purposes, and ambitions, who had 
 never had occasion to regret or withdraw any trust he 
 had reposed in him. Danforth, in turn, perennially 
 admired the resources and adroitness of the veteran 
 politician; his readiness and versatility; his protean 
 adaptation to the hundreds of situations and the myr- 
 iads of people that often on the instant he had to en- 
 counter; his always interesting conversation, and the 
 suggestiveness and tartness of his phraseology. 
 
 Danforth now looked at him curiously, to see what, 
 if any, plan or purpose he still held in reserve; but 
 Brewster, carelessly throwing his leg over the arm of 
 the chair, seemed as little like a traditional leader or 
 conspirator as it is possible to imagine. 
 
 Suddenly, however, changing his attitude, he leaned 
 forward, and, in spite of the emptiness of the room, 
 talked for a long time in a voice scarcely raised above 
 a whisper. Once or twice he stopped, and both he 
 and Danforth listened intently, but the mouse, as they 
 finally adjudged the source of the noise to be, retired
 
 134 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 from their deliberations and left them to further con- 
 ference undisturbed. 
 
 But again Brewster stopped, and, rising, threw aside 
 the wing of the screen. 
 
 "What are yon doing here?" he thundered, gazing 
 at a human mound heaped upon Lawrence's table, and 
 crowned with a thick grayish vegetation. In response 
 to Brewster's question there was neither speech nor 
 motion. 
 
 "Perceval, get up!" said Brewster, shaking the 
 huge shoulders. " Can 't you choose a more comfort- 
 able bed than this? One would think he had been 
 educated as a policeman," he added, after a short pause, 
 in which Perceval did not move. 
 
 Alarmed, he shook the sleeper again, who, rolling 
 slowly from side to side, at last sat up, rubbing his 
 eyes and blinking. Inspecting him closely, Brewster 
 said, with some sharpness: 
 
 "Go to bed like a Christian! I don't think you 
 take to vigils very gracefully." 
 
 Perceval staggered sleepily out of the room, Brews- 
 ter watching him keenly. 
 
 " I thought he went out half an hour ago." 
 
 " So did I," said Danforth. " lie must have come 
 in again. However, he was so dead asleep he could 
 have heard nothing." 
 
 " I am not so sure about that. He was altogether 
 too sleepy, and he tried to gape so desperately." 
 
 " You '11 never know from his demeanor whether he 
 heard anything or not," said Danforth, " for he ex- 
 hausts his porteutious airs over such trifles that when
 
 COUNTING THE VOTE. 135 
 
 he really has something to cackle over he can 't do it 
 justice." 
 
 " I must watch him. I can easily manage him, if 
 it 's worth while," and the conversation was prolonged 
 far into the night. 
 
 The next day the country breathed free when the 
 vote of the doubtful State was cast for Brewster's op- 
 ponent. 
 
 " That settles it," everybody said. The " visitors," 
 including Starkey one of Brewster's secretaries and 
 the author of the obnoxious dispatch came home. 
 The major welcomed him very heartily, and seemed 
 to have forgotten as well as forgiven that deadly in- 
 sult.
 
 136 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AN UNACCOUNTABLE VOTE. 
 
 Brewster betrayed no disappointment, made no 
 laments. His opponents, as one of their leading 
 journals remarked, "rejoiced and were exceeding 
 glad. The people had, with the hot iron of their 
 wrath, branded upon him the stigma of defeat. It 
 proved that no man with tainted reputation or self- 
 advertised craving for office could be chosen president 
 of the United States. He who, with any hope of suc- 
 cess, aspired to this high honor, must stand in the 
 center of a wider horizon than that measured by his 
 own short-sighted selfishness and beneath a loftier 
 sphere than that spanned by his morbid and unscru- 
 pulous anxiety to seize the prize;" which, considering 
 how near Brewster came to getting it, and that the 
 disrepute and the craving of this editor's own candidate, 
 had not been hidden under a bushel exactly, was put- 
 ting it rather strong. 
 
 When, in a duel with Dickinson, Andrew Jackson 
 was hit, he concealed his hurt and killed his oppo- 
 nent, who, in consequence of Jackson's deliberately 
 denying him that last consolation, died ignorant of 
 this crowning triumph of his renowned marksmanshi p.
 
 AN UNACCOUNTABLE VOTE. 137 
 
 In like manner, Brewster allowed his opponents no 
 chance for exultation or pity. Calm and cheerful, he 
 took up the thread of his business life as if he were 
 always only a manufacturer and merchant. Bat what 
 a yawning chasm between the nomination and the 
 presidency, which he had vainly tried to fill with a 
 causeway of king's treasures! His foot was on the 
 hither brink; he slipped, fell, probably never to rise 
 again. Those who know not the fierce hunger of the 
 politician's heart know not its desolation and despair 
 when his years of cunning and pains -taking toil go 
 down into hopeless ruin. To hide such vital-gnawing 
 pain from the world required a courage and philosophy 
 of which Brewster had apparently made himself so 
 much a master, that even his enemies said, "He'd turn 
 lightning, if it struck him." 
 
 But when the electoral colleges met to elect a presi- 
 dent, on the first Wednesday of the following Decem- 
 ber, these enemies thought that he had turned light- 
 ning so that it struck them. 
 
 On the morning of that day Thaddeus O'Brien, 
 elected governor of the new-born State of Idaho by 
 Brewster's party, the previous year, was sitting in the 
 room adjoining that in which the "hard money" 
 electors met. A note from one of them, Wendell 
 Hawkins, was sent in, begging him if he heard a row 
 in the next room to come in, bringing his " army and 
 navy" with him. The voices presently growing loud 
 enough to justify his interpretation of "a row," the 
 governor rushed in, pistol in pocket. 
 
 Tom Lunt, an elector and one of the principal mine-
 
 138 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 owners in the State, was shaking his fist in Hawkins's 
 face, exclaiming, 
 
 " You 're a traitor! " 
 
 "We won 't stand any such nonsense if you 're fool- 
 ing, or any snch villainy if you mean it," said Andy 
 Mack, the other elector, land-surveyor, and engineer. 
 
 "What 'sail this?" asked the governor, coming 
 forward. 
 
 "None of your business!" said Lunt, savagely, 
 " when we want you we '11 send for you. It 's one of 
 your rascally tricks." 
 
 "Don't get excited!" said Governor O'Brien, I 
 have n't the slightest notion what it 's all about. Haw- 
 kins, you seem to be the only level-headed man; sup- 
 pose you tell." 
 
 Hawkins, who stood slowly stroking his long, black 
 beard, said with deliberation. 
 
 " I have cast my vote, according to the dictates of my 
 conscience, for Aaron B. Brewster, as President of the 
 United States." 
 
 The governor halted with a shock of surprise, and 
 then, on his realizing the tremendous consequence of 
 the act, his face brightened with triumph. 
 
 "That is right!" he exclaimed, almost jauntily. 
 " There 's nothing more consoling to a man than to do 
 what his conscience dictates." 
 
 " His conscience be . My conscience dictates to 
 
 me to throw the cuss out of the window," said Andy 
 Mack. 
 
 "Well," said the governor, taking out his pistol, 
 "we all have our peculiar scruples. Mine happen
 
 AN UNACCOUNTABLE VOTE. 139 
 
 to be in favor of fair play. Mr. Hawkins has a con- 
 stitutional right to vote, for any native-born citizen 
 of the United States. He has my certificate of election 
 and he will vote as he likes, or I '11 know the reason 
 why." 
 
 With many growls, threats, oaths, and hard names, 
 the proper lists were made out, and signed by the 
 electors. Whereupon Andy Mack started for the door. 
 The governor was there first, with his back against it. 
 
 " Not yet," said he. " Mr. Hawkins goes first." 
 
 He let him out, shut the door, and resumed his 
 position. 
 
 'We'll not have any interference with constitu- 
 tional liberty in this State, as long as I am governor; 
 no mobs, no lynching. In an hour from now the 
 door '11 be opened and then if any harm comes to him 
 we '11 know whom to hold responsible." 
 
 So saying, the governor, taking a chair, advised the 
 other two to do likewise and make themselves as com- 
 fortable as possible. 
 
 At the end of the hour, he opened the door and 
 walked out. Lunt and Mack lost no time in reveal- 
 ing this extraordinary proceeding, and in less than 
 fifteen minutes the main streat of the town was filled, 
 with citizens hurrying to and fro, talking, swearing, 
 and demanding to lay hands upon the apostate elec- 
 tor. But there were quite as many, anxious to baffle 
 these enraged partisans, and to provoke them by their 
 smiles and happiness at the sudden change in the po- 
 litical aspect. 
 
 There were cries of " Where is he ?" "Hang him!"
 
 IttO A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 "Kill the traitor!" "Throw him into tire canon!" 
 The governor and his party stood ready to defend 
 him; and, had he appeared, it would have been an 
 easy matter to have begun, in that Idaho wilderness, 
 a civil w r ar which might have spread like a forest fire. 
 They ran to Hawkins' store. His clerks, pale with 
 fear, knew nothing of him. They searched his hotel, 
 lie had not been there since breakfast. They ex- 
 plored the suburbs, watched the railroad station. 
 Only two men remembered seeing him after the hour 
 for the meeting of the electors. The woods, the mines 
 and an old quarry were vainly ransacked. About 
 sundown, Hawkins's large maltese cat, Hezekiah, a re- 
 nowned Jiabitue of his store, was found sitting on its 
 master's coat and vest, on the brink of a narrow 
 canon three miles from town. Below, at a depth of 
 four hundred feet, roared the whirling current. of the 
 river, lapping the steep, smooth walls with their 
 yeasty waves, and then plunging madly over a ledge 
 of rocks in a cataract of foam.- No human being 
 could leap into the flood and be swept over the fall 
 with any hope of life. Even the recovery of his bat- 
 tered body would be an impossibilit} 7 . 
 
 In an inside coat pocket was a manuscript which 
 appeared next- morning in the newspapers. 
 
 He claimed a legal and moral right to vote for any 
 eligible citizen of the United States. It was origin- 
 ally intended that electors should do so; for, during the 
 first fifty years the modern convention and its candi- 
 dates were unknown. He had discharged his duties as 
 a citizen, without fear or favor. He expected to suffer.
 
 AN UNACCOUNTABLE VOTE. 141 
 
 Men, true to their convictions, often did; but he would 
 rather take the consequences of doing his duty than 
 the responsibility of not doing it. 
 
 The Idaho Crystal said there were no evidences of 
 corruption; the man seemed to be the victim of amor- 
 bid conscience, and a perverted idea of duty. He had 
 fled, unable to endure the tempest of indignation which 
 swept down upon him like a snow-storm on the moun- 
 tain passes. 
 
 ~Now it was remembered that he had often praised 
 the " battle-born greenback," and cursed the leniency 
 of the government that allowed traitors to go unhung. 
 But he was a " straight party man ;" had always " voted 
 the ticket," was " unflinching," " stalwart," and " loy- 
 al." What more could you ask? 
 
 Mr. Bunkery, in a speech of congratulation to his 
 constituents in Injannerville, lauded Hawkins's con- 
 science as one of which Luther himself might have 
 been proud. His act, he said, was a revival of that 
 antique heroism which founded the republic and in- 
 vented the electoral system. It brought back those 
 days of purity, etc. Though he died by his own act 
 to escape outrage, Wendell Hawkins was a martyr to 
 his conscience, and his murderers must pass sleepless 
 nights if the ghost of their victim haunted their pil- 
 lows and accused them of his taking off. 
 
 Many conscientious men who had voted for Brews- 
 ter secretly disapproved the act, but not one in ten 
 thousand had the boldness to' say so. They were hon- 
 est, pious, God-fearing men, scrupulous in business 
 and truthful of speech. They taught their children not
 
 142 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 to lie or cheat, for they sincerely scorned lying and 
 cheating in private life. But in politics they were gov- 
 erned by another standard. The danger of ruin to the 
 country from the success of the other party reconciled 
 them to their own party's reaping the advantage of 
 conduct which in their hearts they severely condemned. 
 Therefore, they kept silence and awaited results. 
 
 On the other hand, Senator Joslyn declared it was 
 the rottenest deed since Judas betrayed his master. 
 Brewster, he said, was capable of acts for which his 
 fellow-citizens had to blush since he never blushed on 
 his own account but he did not believe that even he 
 would avail himself of this treachery. Certainly, no 
 man of the least self-respect would accept an office 
 obtained in so foul a fashion. 
 
 Of course Senator Joslyn's party believed this, and 
 sincerely believed it; but it is wonderful how much 
 easier it was to believe it of the other party and its 
 leader, than, tinder the same circumstances, it would 
 have been to believe it of their own. 
 
 But Brewster dreamed of refusing as he would of 
 refusing to live in a house because the builder had 
 cheated the workmen. 
 
 " Why should n't I accept it?" he said. " It is the 
 best service I can do my countrymen. It will pre- 
 vent the dreaded struggle in the House of Represen- 
 tatives that will plunge us into unhealthful and paralyz- 
 ing excitement. It will, I trust, put an end to the 
 awkward electoral system. The American people owe 
 a debt of gratitude to the departed Hawkins for show- 
 ing them the stupidity of adhering to it after it has
 
 AN UNACCOUNTABLE VOTE. U3 
 
 outlived its usefulness, and I should prove myself an 
 unworthy successor of the early presidents, by declin- 
 ing an office to which I have been duly chosen in 
 accordance with their own plan." 
 
 Brewster had in his composition many of the ele- 
 ments of " the strong man," and by many had been 
 admired and supported because of the assurance they 
 felt that, if he chose to regard himself elected, he 
 would take the office without scruple or hesitation. 
 
 And the tamed and torpid nation, its indignation 
 fatigued by repeated outrages from " returning boards " 
 South, and " councils " and " canvassers " North, acqui- 
 esced in this latest method of Mexicanising its politics.
 
 144 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 REWARD OF MERIT. 
 
 "WHEN Carroll yielded to Brewster's temptation he 
 had, as we know, hoped not only for the great man's 
 sanction to the dearest wish of .his heart, but for a 
 political recognition of his ability and fame a seat in 
 the Cabinet, perhaps at least a foreign mission. At 
 an early day, therefore, he reported himself at the hotis.e 
 in Bonanza Square. 
 
 " I congratulate you on yonr remarkable luck," said 
 he, after an exchange of greetings. 
 
 " Some people call it luck," said the President-elect. 
 
 " It was Frederick the Great's advice, %vasn't it? to 
 kill a Russian first, and knock him down afterwards. 
 People begin to think that that is the only way you '11 
 ever be disposed of." 
 
 " Yigilance and hard work," said Brewster, " that is 
 all; it's the secret of most success. Capitalists are 
 like children easily scared and easily soothed. The 
 very moment they succeeded in heading us off, they 
 began talking about the short-lived mania and the to- 
 tal collapse of our movement. For my part I was 
 quite willing to encourage that idea. It put them off 
 their guard and gave us a chance. However, Satan
 
 REWARD OF MERIT. 145 
 
 himself is more likely to behave in a handsome inaugu- 
 ration suit and a silk hat, and I may disappoint them 
 yet," 
 
 " Yes," said Carroll, seizing on these words for the 
 relief of his conscience; "with your intelligence and 
 executive talent, you might make your administration 
 illustrious. For," he added gingerly, " a man on as- 
 suming his responsibilities may take a very different 
 view of his duty from the one he held when soliciting 
 them." 
 
 " In plain English," said Brewster, " obtain an of- 
 fice under false pretenses and then betray his part} 7 ." 
 
 " Hawkins did, and made you president," said Car- 
 roll, bluntly. 
 
 " That is true," said the other gravely; " but on the 
 other hand, every man must be governed by his own 
 ideas of duty. Hawkins's might, or might not, be 
 mine." 
 
 " You '11 be in a position to check excesses, at any 
 rate," said Carroll, " and I was thinking that having 
 been made president by a vote which disregarded 
 party, you could afford to disobey the party law which 
 turns out every officeholder and pnts a new one in his 
 place." 
 
 " That would be a very severe test to apply to the 
 loyalty of my followers and friends," said Brewster, 
 looking keenly at the young man. "They would 
 curse me worse than if I went back on my principles." 
 
 "O," said Carroll," I don't mean the principal 
 offices cabinet positions and the like, I mean the 
 ' clean sweep ' every one is expecting you to make. 
 10
 
 14:6 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 Your opponents are already saying that it will be a 
 great outrage if you turn the civil service topsy- 
 turvy." 
 
 "Ah, indeed! that will be bad to shock them. 
 I 've heard before now of women in low-necked dresses 
 recoiling at an excess of immodest ankle. There's 
 nothing for sharpening a politician's eye-sight," con- 
 tinued Brewster, offering his visitor a cigar, which he 
 declined, " like thrusting him into the hold of the 
 Ship of State and fastening down the hatches on him. 
 When he gets used to the dark, he sees heaps of 
 offensive things which when he was in command on 
 deck, and the other fellows below, he never even 
 dreamed of." 
 
 "There's a good deal in that," said Carroll "and 
 yet the evils exist, whether you look or overlook." 
 
 " Well, to come down to practical matters," said 
 Brewster brusquely, " what can I do for you?" 
 
 "Is Miss Winifred at home?" asked Carroll. 
 
 " I believe so," said her father, ringing the bell and 
 ordering the servant to inquire. 
 
 She sent word that she would be down immediately. 
 
 Carroll had hardly seated himself in the drawing- 
 room when she entered. The sincerity of her welcome 
 both charmed and alarmed him. He was doubtful if 
 she would have received with such free-spoken kind- 
 ness one whom she recognized as a blossoming lover. 
 The dashing orator, the easy man of the world had 
 disappeared. Love had stripped him of these dis- 
 guises, and he stood like a timid youth taking her 
 offered hand.
 
 REWARD OF MERIT. 147 
 
 It was just what he had longed for through all the 
 busy months since the week on the yacht. When his 
 conscience rebelled at the insults done it, it was this 
 vision which consoled him. It charmed him in his 
 disgust at the ineffectiveness of his efforts. Indeed, 
 in his great successes previously, his oratory was never, 
 in any sense, an effort. But in this summer's work, 
 his intellect and his conscience had not been in tune. 
 Half his powers were wasted in silencing the discord, 
 until he was weary and sick with the task. Goading 
 his reluctant spirit to its drudgery, and hating both 
 himself and the irksome despotism of his half-hearted- 
 ness, he barely droned through his perfunctory duty. 
 Hence the audiences that gathered at the sight and 
 sound of his name went away disappointed. He but 
 rang the changes that had been dinned for a life-time 
 into their ears, and afforded them little of either nov- 
 elty or suggestiveness. It was generally conceded by 
 all of Brewster's party managers, who had watched 
 his pilgrimages, that Carroll was "a dead failure." 
 
 Even his delight at seeing her again, and this 
 atmosphere, fragrant with luxury, with love, and her 
 exclusive companionship, recalled the odious and mel- 
 ancholy summer. He remembered how at times the 
 hot and noisy crowds and the blatant politicians would 
 fade from sight; and in theii place would come the 
 sweet scene now realized, only to disgust him the 
 more when he was face to face again with populace 
 and politics. Now the ignorance and self-seeking had 
 vanished into t"he far-off past; the bad air and the 
 noise and the riot had gone quite out of the world^
 
 148 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 From the conservatory came the sweet breath of flow- 
 ers, and the little fountain in the midst of them 
 tinkled an accompaniment to Winifred's gracious chat- 
 ting. 
 
 They talked of Tom, the yacht, the passage of the 
 summer, and then he said abruptly. 
 
 " I have quite forgotten to congratulate you on being 
 such a rare woman." 
 
 His sudden compliment confused her a little and she 
 looked inquiringly. 
 
 " Yes; a president's daughter. They are rarer than 
 presidents. They have scarcely been seen of late years. 
 Perhaps they are becoming extinct." 
 
 " The rara avis ought to pipe a song of thanks to you ; 
 for there 's no telling how much your speeches and hard 
 work have done toward it." 
 
 " If she felt only a little grateful, I should be re- 
 warded even for the hardest part, which was staying 
 away so long as I have. Many a time, I have thought 
 of all this pleasantness, of you, Miss Winifred, and 
 have promised myself a holiday the very next week; 
 but the time went by and every day seemed busier 
 and more pressing than the one before. I don't 
 think, however," he added quickly, " that you would 
 have anything to thank me for, even if it could be 
 proved that I made you a president's daughter. I 
 cannot bear to think of you loaded down with cares 
 and social duties. I don 't like to think of so many 
 having a right to your smiles and kind words." 
 
 " It was very good of you when you were so busy," 
 she said, almost interrupting him, " to send me that
 
 REWARD OF MERIT. 149 
 
 box of lilies; the perfume hung around it for a week. 
 I made a little sketch of them." 
 
 She arose and brought from a wall-cabinet a water- 
 color drawing of them. He looked at it with a lov- 
 er's admiration. 
 
 "How much more it must be to your liking, to 
 indujge your tastes of this sort, than to be if you '11 
 excuse my saying it on exhibition. " 
 
 " Wljy," she said gaily, " you make me feel almost 
 like a great moral show in a tent, with a hand-organ, 
 and a monstrous picture outside." 
 
 " Yes, it is a good deal like that. The White House 
 answers the description very well." 
 
 " O, Mr. Carroll, I 'd be glad to keep out of it ex- 
 cept on father's account, at least I think I would. 
 I'm not much dazzled by it." 
 
 " O, I was sure of that," he said, so radiantly that she 
 regretted her speech on account of the construction 
 she saw he had put upon it. "A woman like you 
 naturally finds a private, quiet life far more to her 
 tastes." 
 
 He looked ardently at her, and she cast an almost 
 imploring glance at him, as if begging him riot to go, 
 or come, any further. Then she added gravely : 
 
 " Yes, but women have so little to say in the order- 
 ing of their lives. Mine is quite bound up with my 
 father's." 
 
 She said this with an earnest emphasis, and clasped 
 her hands together with a gesture of seriousness that 
 boded no good to him. He felt, rather than perceived, 
 that the tide of her feelings was against him.
 
 150 A FAMO US VIC TOR Y. 
 
 "But Le may release you. May I ask him ? Will 
 you let me ask him to release you, Miss Wini- 
 fred ? " he pleaded vehemently. 
 
 " I do not think he would. We made a compact he 
 and I to stand by each other; always to make a home 
 for one another; and he would need give me permis- 
 sion" to break it." 
 
 "Do not evade me, dear Miss Winifred," begged 
 Carroll, in a tone that touched her pity. " 1 love you; 
 love you dearly; Hove you with my whole heart. I 
 have a right to know if you will listen to me. Will 
 you not deal with me as frankly as I do with you ? " 
 
 " It would only pain you," she answered in a low 
 voice, as if that might not wound him so deeply. 
 " Please do not urge it! " 
 
 "Urge it! Miss Winifred! I can't do anything 
 but urge it. It is all I care for. I will not harrass you ; 
 I will not persecute you with my urgency; but I 
 love you; I love you dearly; you are all the world to 
 me. Won 't you accept my love and grant me yours ?" 
 
 She cast down her eyes, saying nothing, but patting 
 the carpet softly, nervously, with her foot. Her com- 
 passion kept back the denial that was on her lips. She 
 looked, she prayed, for an interruption. But nothing 
 or nobody intervened, and he sat inexorably waiting for 
 an answer. 
 
 " O, Mr. Carroll, you make me say, what, for your 
 sake, I would almost rather be dumb than say. I 
 cannot grant you what you ask." 
 
 " O, do not speak so resolutely," he said, contradict- 
 ing his urgency almost in the same breath, " wait! re-
 
 REWARD OF MERIT. 151 
 
 fleet! tell me to-morrow! next week; I have confused 
 and troubled you; forgive my thoughtlessness! Par- 
 don all to my love for you. If you only knew how 
 much it is to me, you would not refuse me so sternly." 
 
 She raised her eyes to his a moment, clear, truthful, 
 firm, and said in a tone against which, rather than 
 words, he felt it useless to plead. 
 
 " Forgive me if I have ever said or done anything 
 to make you think otherwise to mislead you. I 
 would not for all the world trifle with an honest love 
 like yours; but I know nothing, I feel nothing, Mr. 
 Carroll, that reflection can change or time ripen." 
 
 It sounded abrupt and cruel to her,' though she tried 
 her best to soften it; but on the whole it was best so. 
 He had demanded her inmost thought and she gave it 
 him. 
 
 He paused a moment, stunned by the blow he had 
 both feared and invited. 
 
 " Perhaps if you knew me better," he went on ; "if 
 you could but have time to appreciate the love which 
 your sweet presence and gentleness have stirred 
 within me; if you could understand how entirely I 
 would consecrate myself to your happiness; how no- 
 ble a life I would henceforth live for your sake, you 
 would see your way to return, perhaps, only a little, 
 but still a little, of the love you have made me feel 
 for you." 
 
 " O, do not add to what is all too painful, Mr. Car- 
 roll. I would gladly take, if I could, all the penalty 
 for the mistake, the misunderstanding, the unfortu- 
 nate construction have I been heedless? I did not
 
 152 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 mean to be. Forgive me! I pray you forgive me. I 
 will be your life-long friend; 1 will promote your wel- 
 fare in any way that lies in my power." 
 
 " O, there is but one way, only one way!" he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " I can give you no other answer neither now, or 
 hereafter," she said, with such compassionate tender- 
 ness that even her denial thrilled him. 
 
 Then, recalling his manhood, and humiliated at the 
 outcome of her father's cunning and his own weak- 
 ness, he arose, and, after saying: " Yes, let us be good 
 friends," he bade her good-night. 
 
 He sought her father in his library, resolved to ap- 
 peal to his promised intervention, if there were any 
 use in that. He still hoped that she might not be so 
 fixed in her resolve that her father's influence would 
 fail to turn the scale in his favor. 
 
 Brewster noticed his agitation, and readily guessed 
 the cause of it 
 
 " You were kind enough to ask what you could do 
 for me," said Carroll, in a steadier voice than he had 
 supposed or feared he could command; " I would like 
 to tell you, though perhaps I do not need to tell you 
 how much Miss Winifred has had to do with whatever 
 service I have been able to render you." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! " said Brewster, with an air of sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "Oh, yes, very much," said Carroll, warmly. 
 
 Brewster created an awkward silence by making no 
 reply, and Carroll hesitatingly continued: 
 
 "I ask your influence with her, not as a reward for
 
 REWARD OF MERIT. 153 
 
 any service I may have been to yon, but because I 
 know how precious she is to you, and that you have a 
 right to be jealous of the man who asks such a favor." 
 
 Brewster was listening with a mixture of deference 
 and indifference which chilled Carroll. He knew that 
 no exact words had ratified the bargain between him- 
 self and Winifred's father; yet their mutual under- 
 standing was quite clear. Brewster had told him that 
 Winifred would consult her father's wishes and that 
 he had. warned away a rival because he could make no 
 use of him. 
 
 " I cannot be anxious about anything which will 
 take her from me," said Brewster, coldly, after another 
 pause, " but you are at liberty to speak to her." 
 
 " I understood you ; I thought you said," urged 
 Carroll. 
 
 " I was provoked at the time by Stratton's criti- 
 cism. I believe that election quarrels like election 
 bets should be settled by the result. I shall leave her 
 quite free in her choice; but you had better speak to 
 her and quite satisfy yourself. If there 's anything 
 else I can do for yon, let me know." 
 
 " I am not now concerned with that," said Carroll, 
 " but I do not think you have redeemed your implied 
 pledge to me about this this which is far more to 
 me." 
 
 "I'm sorry I was tempted to any unwarranted 
 speech," said Brewster, "but when one is excited he is 
 liable to be misled by his tongue or his ears," he 
 added, significantly. 
 
 " I think not" replied Carroll, bidding him a curt
 
 154 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 good-night and departing, inwardly enraged. He was 
 chiefly angry at himself for the contemptible part he 
 had been gulled into playing. If before this moment 
 any one had portrayed such a simpleton and affixed 
 his name to it, he would have resented it as a gross 
 caricature. Now he could see only the shabby and 
 ridiculous figure he presented. He was a mask behind 
 which Brewster had spoken to the public, and which, 
 when the play was done, he threw, with his other 
 stage properties, indifferently aside. He was a torch- 
 light, a cheap banner, a flimsy transparency which, 
 after election, are destroyed like so much rubbish, or 
 put away in the lumber rooms until wanted for the 
 same purpose again. 
 
 He was not quite angry enough to imagine that the 
 sweetest girl in all the world was a party to the scheme 
 she was too noble, too single-minded for that. No, 
 Brewster had made use of her, as, to further his ends, 
 he did of all instrumentalities within reach. Carroll 
 very naturally concluded that he had had enough of 
 him, and only awaited an opportunity to make that fact 
 quite plain.
 
 'A NEW DEAL." . 155 
 
 CHAPTER XYL 
 
 "A NEW DEAL." 
 
 WHILE those who vote against a successful candidate 
 for the presidency always imagine his inauguration the 
 first step toward a paradise lost, his supporters think 
 it a paradise regained. Brewster's party expected him 
 to remove the flaming sword of fate which kept them 
 from living in a pleasure-garden, without work; his 
 opponents were equally sure that, after a taste of the 
 fruit of the tree of knowledge, the nation would learn 
 that men must still eat bread in the sweaj; of their 
 brows. On such occasions, however, the chief paradise, 
 and the first bread, and the first fruit, are the one hun- 
 dred thousand federal offices, and the sweat is to get 
 them. 
 
 What is known as " a new deal " now took place, 
 and the excitement in political circles was intense. 
 "A new deal" is a system of government not un- 
 known to the people of Burmah, where a recent king 
 began his reign by chopping off the heads of all his 
 predecessors' relations. It was a favorite device dur- 
 ing the civil wars in Rome, when the successful leader 
 placed all his active enemies on a proscription list, and 
 ' created vacancies " in their households or their places
 
 156 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 of business, by allowing any who met them to eject 
 them with a sword and without the formality of a 
 resignation. 
 
 Even those " queer French people," who are accused 
 of many failures in self-government, have not been al- 
 together backward in successfully working this part 
 of the "machine." They have a church in Paris, 
 called the Pantheon, where they operated it with 
 entire satisfaction. One set came into the government, 
 bundled the de.\d royalists out of their last resting- 
 places, and put in the corpses of the Yoltaires and 
 Mirabeaus. Then the royalists got the upper hand 
 and off came the epitaphs, and out went the bones of 
 the sceptics and revolutionists. When the Bonapartes 
 tumble off their thrones, their imperial " bees " and 
 Napoleonic " N's " are dug out or picked off of all con- 
 spicuous public spots, and. the avenues stripped of im- 
 perial names. Now the republic paints out the names 
 of royalty, and once more the Empire posts its bills 
 over its republican rivals. A witty woman has com- 
 pared it to that scene in the farce, where Box throws 
 Cox's bacon out of the window, and soon after Cox 
 does the same by Box's mutton-chop. 
 
 Brewster, however, did not bother himself with dead 
 men. He liked dealing with live ones much better. 
 He rid himself of incumbent office-holders with the 
 thoroughness of an oriental despot, the public looking 
 on in languid amusement, like the Roman populace 
 at the lions devouring Christians, sorry only when 
 some "poor little lion, away off in the corner, did n't 
 come in for his share."
 
 'A NEW DEAL." 157 
 
 This, it is to be remembered, happened in the year 
 18 , and its introduction as the chief end of govern- 
 ment seems to have been due to Brewster. For, ac- 
 cording to public documents of previous years, the 
 doctrine that the United States Government had "the 
 best civil service on the planet" was regularly included 
 in the instruction given to the marines; and all the 
 party "platforms" affirmed that the servants of the 
 government should not be dismissed from office so 
 long as they were honest and efficient. Unless this 
 had been the common practice these parties would 
 not have made it an annual profession of their faith. 
 To suppose otherwise would be to suppose that they 
 said things for effect and in order to "carry" the "doubt- 
 ful" districts. 
 
 His opponents were naturally wroth with Brewster 
 for disregarding their traditions and practice. They 
 never appointed a man to office for party reasons. 
 They never dismissed one solely to make room for 
 some congressman's favorite, or a senator's "worker," 
 or to reward a follower who had helped elect a presi- 
 dent. They never looked upon office as conquerors 
 used to look upon the gold and the silver, the wives 
 and the concubines, the pictures and the statuary of 
 those they conquered. They always regarded an office 
 as a place for the best and most competent men, who 
 would discharge its duties, as all other employes are 
 expected to do, in the interests of their employers of 
 the whole people without distinction of party. 
 
 But Brewster, as some may have already suspected, 
 did not care the snap of his finger for the opinion and
 
 153 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 example of the "grand old party" which he. had de- 
 feated by means no previous party or politician had so 
 much as thought of. At least, it is to be presumed 
 they had never thought of them, inasmuch as they had 
 never resorted to them. lie was an unscrupulous man. 
 He hated the very goodness and conscientiousness 
 of his predecessors. If he had so much as sus- 
 pected them of governing without scandal or dis- 
 missing from office for personal misconduct only, 
 it would have been enough to stir his depravity to the 
 very depths of his sinful old soul. To spurn their vir- 
 tues and spit upon their spotlessness was his meat and 
 his drink. And so in order to wholly free his admin- 
 istration from the purity and unselfishness which had 
 fairly saturated those preceding his, this bad man 
 expelled from garret and cellar every atom of the up- 
 rightness which from year to year had been packed 
 away there, and which he detested from the bottom of 
 his wicked heart. In place of these good men he put 
 in " minions " and " camp-followers " of his own, who, 
 unlike those they displaced, wanted an office for the 
 sake of its salary, or the influence of it, or to help 
 their party, not simply to do their duty and serve their 
 country. Even in those cities where a few officials had, 
 for their own convenience, introduced some sort of 
 test besides a man's ability to "run" the caucus and 
 his control of the primaries, Brewster's new broom 
 swept as clean as it did in other places where neglect 
 and abases undoubtedly needed the free use of his 
 besom. 
 
 Carroll awaited Brewster's offer of a position, for
 
 'A NEW DEAL." 159 
 
 the purpose not of accepting, but of ostentatiously 
 declining, a favor from an administration elected, as lie 
 meant to put it, in defiance of the popular vote, and 
 tainted with moral, if not with legal, fraud. 
 
 But the days went by, and the gossip over probable 
 appointments did not include his name. There was 
 an equally provoking silence in respect to the princi- 
 pal custom-houses, until he became quite convinced 
 that the shrewd president, perhaps suspecting Carroll's 
 mood and mind, avoided affording him the opportu- 
 nity of flinging the commission into the presidential 
 face. 
 
 Brewster had, in fact, never intended rewarding 
 him with anything he would have accepted. For, 
 although he valued his oratory and the temporary in- 
 fluence of his reputation upon the " campaign," he 
 had been disappointed in the results and had no use 
 for him in "practical" politics. His moral support 
 and his speeches before election, were, as he had imag- 
 ined, well worth having, but after it, he was about as 
 " available " as the ten commandments, or the ser- 
 mon on the mount. He knew little or nothing about 
 the management of the "machine." He was what is 
 called " an amiable theorist," more interested in the 
 merits of public questions than the "availability" of 
 candidates, or the " running " of caucuses and con- 
 ventions. His visionary qualities were eminently dis- 
 played in his sanguine belief that Wharton would 
 receive the nomination, solely on the strength of his 
 learning, his judicial temper, and his charitable non- 
 part'sanship, which among the " boys " were known
 
 1 60 A FAMO US VICTOR Y. 
 
 as " taffy " and " soothing-sy nip " ; whereas "Wharton 
 had not " a solid delegation " from any State, nor did 
 lie put a single "worker" into "the Held." So far as 
 they did not envy his abilities, Carroll was the laugh- 
 ing-stock of the politicians, and Brewster had no notion 
 of exalting him to a conspicuous place. 
 
 Thoroughly disgusted, therefore, he took passage 
 on a European steamer, resolved if he could not go 
 abroad as an American vassal, to go as an American 
 sovereign. Though " time is monej 7 ," even congress- 
 ional fiat is unequal to the creation of that universal 
 currency, and President Brewster had already spent, 
 beyond hope of reissue, more than two years of his 
 official term, before our traveler returned.
 
 VL'XKERY, THE STATESMAN. 161 
 
 CHAPTER XYIT. 
 
 BUNKERY, THE STATESMAN. 
 
 MK. THOMAS BULLION BUNKERY was walking down 
 the principal street of Injannerville, in the State of 
 " Injanner," of which he was a representative in Con- 
 gress, lie was a man of impressive presence; though 
 it was a presence of body rather than of mind; and was 
 endowed with a red-blooded vigor which served him well 
 in haranguing his fellow-citizens and raising the start- 
 ling war-cries of his party. His lungs were rated as 
 the strongest in the country, and his throat of the best 
 Sax-horn variety. Towering like a huge chimney 
 above his fellow Congressmen, he belched forth a vol- 
 ume of noise that seemed to roll away in a cloud and 
 spread itself over the galleries and ceiling of the hall. 
 
 Lofty, massive, he strode on, conscious of admirers 
 who nudged each other and of heads which turned 
 and looked after him. 
 
 Such was the statesman, who, according to the tes- 
 timony of Perceval and Carroll in their morning's 
 talk about him at Major Brewster's, could master any 
 branch of the science of government at a week's 
 notice, and who now, on the eve of his second Con- 
 gressional terra, was engrossed in those tasks of states- 
 11
 
 162 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 manship which exhaust the energies and tax the intel- 
 lects of so many public men in the United States. 
 
 Entering the sober-fashioned, smoky-tinted Govern- 
 ment building, he walked along the corridor; the post- 
 office clerks behind the glass partition half-timidly, 
 half-servilly glancing at him, knowing that in this 
 land of freedom and equal rights, bread and batter, 
 shelter and comfort for wives and babes depended on 
 his nod. 
 
 If any doubted Bnnkery's grandeur, it was because 
 they were not daily readers of his " organ," the " In- 
 janner Ledger," of which he was the principal stock- 
 holder. If its rivals were credible, its " paragraphs " 
 consisted mainly of tributes to his greatness scissored 
 from the country newspapers owned by Bunkery's post- 
 masters. Its continued story was a biography of Bunk- 
 ery, from his co-partnership in the country store of his 
 native village down to date of publication. Instead 
 of a "chromo " or a dictionary, its premium for the 
 largest list of subscribers was a volume of his thrill- 
 ing speeches upon the average depth of water in the 
 catfish creeks of " Injanner," and the piteous outcry 
 of commerce for their enlargement at the expense of 
 the National Treasury. 
 
 They said, too, that with all his public merits, Bunk- 
 ery had his private virtues, which, somehow, seldom, 
 if ever, became public. Nevertheless, he was generous 
 to a fault if it were one of his own and his charity 
 for human weakness began at home. If it never 
 got far abroad, it was because it found employment 
 enough indoors. At the sight of distress he would
 
 BUNKERY, THE STATESMAN. 163 
 
 put his hand in his pocket and rattle his keys with a 
 chink of benevolence that meant as much as other 
 people's handing out a five dollar note, but he was al- 
 ways ready with a bill for the relief of misery at the 
 expense of the Government. 
 
 As he proceeded down the street this morning, he 
 was stopped every few minutes by some acquaintance 
 or " camp-follower," for the purpose either of asking 
 him for an office, or of reporting the temperature, di- 
 rection of the wind, and other probabilities of party 
 weather in Old Banner, Bismarck, or Steubensky coun- 
 ties. 
 
 Crossing the area in the rear of the Government 
 building, he met, in the middle of this interior court, an 
 acquaintance who took him by the hand. 
 
 This person was as tall as himself; but his swarthy 
 leanness and long, straight black hair falling to his 
 shoulders, his bristling moustaches, his walnut-shaped 
 chin, and his parchment skin drawn tight over his 
 clearly-marked jaw, were in striking contrast with 
 Bunkery's own ruddiness and orange-colored whiskers. 
 
 The new-comer was " Colonel " Aiken, formerly of 
 Texas, whose acquaintance Bunkery, on his way to rep- 
 resent his native country as Minister to France, had 
 made aboard the ocean steamer. Though compara- 
 tively seedy now, he wore, when Bunkery first knew 
 him, a glaring bosom pin, gorgeous sleev.e-buttons and 
 a watch-chain with jingling seals. 
 
 The Colonel was lavish with champagne and cigars, 
 and prominent at u shuffle-board " and in "pool-sell- 
 ing" on the daily " run " of the steamer. He was the
 
 164 A FAMO US VICTOR Y. 
 
 retired editor and proprietor of the notorious " Bazook 
 Banner," which at one time apparently threatened to be 
 the occasion or provocation of another civil war. In 
 the quickly-growing confidences of an ocean voyage, 
 he imparted to Bnnkery what he was pleased to call the 
 secret of his success. 
 
 "Yes, sah!" said he, in a burst of chat one pleasant 
 afternoon on deck: "Advertise! Advertise! Adver- 
 tisin' 's the life of trade. I was always brought up to 
 that, and I always believed in it. I go for advertisin' 
 myself, and doin' it cheap. Anybody can spend a 
 fortune advertising the thing is to get it done for 
 nothin'. You want to startle folks; give 'em a shock; 
 make 'em look at you. There"'s all kinds o' ways 
 murder, scandal, and lecturin' afterwards; any of 
 those things may stand you in handsomely for a 
 while; but they ai n't apt to have stay in' powah. 
 You 've got to bring out something new, else the 
 public '11 get tired, an' go to the 'stablishment over 
 the way. Aftah the wah, I says to myself: ' Kunnel, 
 you 've lost your niggahs and you 've lost yonr cause; 
 you 've got to draw it strong, and be quick about it." 
 
 Until just before the war, the " Kunnel " had lived 
 in a Northern State and never in all his life owned a 
 slave. His "niggahs," therefore, were the equivalent 
 of those castles in Spain which people have once 
 owned and lost, and the severest labor to which those 
 imaginary serfs ever had been put was in carrying out 
 his scheme for advertising himself. 
 
 " Politics was rather hot," continued the " Kunnel," 
 " so I jumped in and published the first numbah of the
 
 BUNKERY, THE STATESMAN. 165 
 
 ' Bazook Banner.' I had n't many subscribers to start 
 with; but I sent a copy to all the principal Nawthun 
 papahs, and they printed my hurrah over the ' Capital 
 Captured by the Southun brigadiers.' That was a 
 ripper! I hud from it in three weeks, be gahd, sah. 
 Hundreds of letters askin' for specimens, an' the papahs 
 copyin' it right and left. Then I gave them a start- 
 ler that made 'em feel like the Czar of Russia a-goin : 
 tu his dinner. 'Twas that red hot article, proposing 
 to elect Jeff Davis President. Then came the 
 screecher that said Andersonville was too comf table 
 for the hell-hounds sent thah; and I mixed them all 
 up judiciously with advice to hang the bondholders 
 and burn the bonds. At last, when the gem, the little 
 beauty, appeared that sweet little poem which called 
 for the killing of Grant and a statchah to Wilkes 
 Booth, an' I had stirred up a Congressman on the nV 
 of Congress to give me a first-class notice with a dis- 
 play head, and lots o' editahs subscribin' so as to get 
 it regulah an' copy it to stir up the Nawtlmn folks 
 with; I had to buy a new press be gahd! and keep it 
 runnin' night an' day. I stood apowah of abuse from 
 everybody; sometimes I was a lunatic, sometimes an 
 idiot; but I soaked away the greenbacks all the same, 
 for I knew it would n't last. I sold out to a greeny, 
 and it wound him up in about three months. I tried 
 lecturin', but folks didn't seem to come where I was, 
 and I give it up; an' now I'm goin' to have the good 
 of it. So name your poison ; for its a long time 'tween 
 drinks on this infunnal old steamer." 
 
 This intimacy blossomed into a friendship that had
 
 1 66 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 its roots in a common fondness for poker, and resulted 
 in the "colonel's" taking a frequent Land with Bun- 
 kery, who thought of introducing the American game 
 into the Paris salons and publishing a little treatise 
 upon it for the benefit of a sister Republic not yet in 
 possession of all the institutions of a free government. 
 
 The " colonel " was endowed with a spasmodic, sur- 
 prising, but very agreeable, if not a very useful be- 
 nevolence. Hearing the third officer of the ship com- 
 plain of his poor pay, he ripped open a waist belt and 
 put ten gold eagles into the hand of the astonished 
 and delighted young man. In Paris, where his career 
 resembled a mountain brook, one hour a torrent, the 
 next, a boulder-paved gully, he gave $500 to a fel- 
 low-countryman, whose relations with his landlord and 
 shop-keepers had assumed so confidential a form that 
 he was in fear of their forcibly detaining him for an 
 indefinite period. At this rate the profits which the 
 "colonel "had derived from his volcanic treatment 
 of public questions, and which, in spite of his boast- 
 fulness, were only trifling, melted rapidly away, and 
 he came home with Mr. Bunkery, considerably in debt, 
 it was said, to that gentleman, for borrowed money, 
 as well as for what, in consequence of the latter's supe- 
 rior accomplishments in the national game, he had 
 managed to owe him. He was picking up a precarious 
 living at Injannerville and encountered Bunkery as 
 above described. 
 
 " I really must ask you to settle that little affair," 
 said Bunkery; "it's been running a long time now." 
 
 "Settle it! would n't I like to settle it. Oil my
 
 BUNKERY, THE STATESMAN. 167 
 
 honah, as a gentleman, sah; but it takes money to 
 settle things of that sort." 
 
 " Yes," said Bunkery, " I know it does, or at least 
 I 've always supposed it did. I 'm glad you think so 
 too." 
 
 " Well, I have n't got the money." 
 
 And the colonel expectorated in an emphatic and 
 final fashion, as if the discussion were thereby closed. 
 
 "However," he went on after a short pause, "if you 
 can put me in the way of getting anything, I '11 agree 
 to a percentage off, every week or month." 
 
 Bunker reflected a moment and then said: "Come 
 with me! " 
 
 Crossing the area, they turned into a dark hall-way 
 at one end of which a small sign protruded from the 
 lintel of a door, on which one read in the dim light: 
 "U. S. Pension Agency." Bunkery, entering and re- 
 marking to the agent, "I would like to do a little 
 writing," the materials were forthcoming at once. 
 
 At the official's desk leaned, in the weak attitude of 
 an invalid, a pale, crippled man, the cuff of whose left 
 sleeve, void of an arm, was pinned to the breast of his 
 coat. "With his remaining hand he was tugging at 
 some papers from an inside pocket. 
 
 Bunkery's comrade advanced so brusquely to the 
 desk, as almost to upset the ill-balanced pensioner. 
 
 "Hullo," said the disabled man, hobbling about to 
 recover his balance, " never knew the world to be so 
 crowded before. There seems to be one too many of 
 us." 
 
 " Are those remarks addressed to me," said " Col- 
 onel " Aiken.
 
 168 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " Well, I 'd only got so far as to subscribe my name 
 to 'em ; I '11 address 'em to you now." 
 
 " Do you know who I am, sah? " roared the " colo- 
 nel." " I 'm Jefferson Aiken, fommahly Kunnel 
 of the Texas Tigahs, and a Southun gentleman, be 
 gahd, sah?" 
 
 " O, no, you can't fool me in that way," said the 
 pensioner, " I 've seen the real article and you 're bo- 
 gus. You must show your certificate before I '11 take 
 you for one." 
 
 " Colonel " Aiken, thrusting his hand into his 
 pocket, produced his certificate and pointed it at the 
 pensioners head. 
 
 " Thah 's my papahs, blank your eyes," he said, 
 cocking his weapon. " I '11 put my certificate on 
 your blanked hide, so plain you '11 have no call to ask 
 for it again. 6 ' 
 
 " Stop that! " cried Bunkery advancing. " We 
 don't do business on that plan." 
 
 '' He 's a blanked lying scoundrel," said the " colo- 
 nel," again raising his weapon, which Bunkery caught 
 and took from him. " If I had you down to Bazook, 
 I 'd teach you to talk to a gentleman, be gahd! " 
 
 But the alleged colonel and ex-editor of the " Bazook 
 Banner" postponed his lesson to a more convenient 
 season; for the invalid soldier, balancing himself upon 
 his one stout leg, with a swift movement of his remain- 
 ing arm, brought, like a battle mace, his heavy brass- 
 tipped cane down upon the "colonel's " head, and 
 felled him to the ground. 
 
 " I '11 teach you the war is not over yet with such a
 
 BUNKERY, THE STATESMAN. 169 
 
 blackguard;" lie said, raising his weapon to strike 
 again, if necessary. " I do n't believe you were ever 
 in the war at all. For those who stood up like men, 
 and fought like men, and act like men now, I say al- 
 ways here 's a friendly hand, but I '11 stand nothing 
 from these noisy, bomb-proof, after-claps that thunder 
 away years after the lightning 's struck. There 's 
 too many of 'em on both sides. Pd try 'em by drum- 
 head court-martial every time, and shoot them on the 
 spot, and the right spot, too," he added, as Aiken 
 rubbed his head. 
 
 The latter stunned alike by the blow and this sud- 
 den resentment, arose and, brushing the dust from 
 his breeches, looked bewildered!}" around. He felt 
 in vain for his pistol. Then he glanced at the 
 pen and ink-stand on the pension-agent's table, as 
 much as to say: "I '11 run him down with a column of 
 hard names in the ' Bazook Banner,' " but having al- 
 ready been furled several months, the u Banner " was 
 no longer waved. 
 
 So he suffered himself to be led off by Bunkery, 
 who roared at him as he went: 
 
 " Stop it! Stop it right here! It 's gone far enough. 
 Don't you understand, you donkey," he continued as 
 lie marched him along, " that you 're several degrees 
 away from where you used to be. I '11 have to buy you 
 a map and show you the latitude of Injannerville. 
 What did you want to lie for, and pretend you were a 
 ' colonel,' when you know you never rose higher than 
 a sutler. I don 't see the use in your making yourself 
 unnecessarily odious. Besides, you came from here
 
 170 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 originally, and there 's no use in your pretending to be 
 a genuine Southerner. You overdo it, let me tell 
 you." 
 
 " Advertizin' 's the life of trade. Keep yourself be- 
 fore the public! Sure 's you sink, you 're gone," said 
 the " colonel." 
 
 " I do n't propose having you do it at my ex- 
 pense." 
 
 "It '11 be in the next edition of the papah, you '11 
 see," replied the "colonel"; "just in time for the 
 openin' of my cigar and sample store, to-morrow if 
 I open it. When it gets a little stale, sue the papah 
 for libel. That '11 give me another lift." 
 
 "With this and other ennobling conversation, Bunk- 
 cry and the " colonel," interrupted by a call at one or 
 two retired and fashionable bar-rooms, had made the 
 promenade of several blocks and come back again to 
 the vicinity of the Government building. 
 
 . At this point a lurch of the " colonel " nearly upset 
 a boy in the act of shouting. 
 
 " Evening paper! All about the " 
 
 But the lad, recoiling from the shock of the collision, 
 did not finish his proclamation. 
 
 "D it! Everybody's in my way," said the 
 
 "colonel," clinging to Bunkery and diving for the 
 boy whom he tried to set on end again " II 'yar give 
 us a papah! Thah git yer feet under yer, ye young 
 possum." 
 
 The boy still holding the paper, was waiting for his 
 pay; but the " colonel " though fumbling in his numer- 
 ous pockets for it, brought nothing up.
 
 BUNKERY, THE STATESMAN. 171 
 
 "Thahwasa nickle thah," he soliloquized, while 
 Bunkerj walked on. " What 's this, now? No, that 's 
 my cloak-room check. Hullo, thah's a Y!" 
 
 " Soon 's you ken, mister," urged the boy. " Ther 's 
 my pop a-waitin' for me." 
 
 "Whah's yer pop?" 
 
 The boy pointed to the crippled man, Aiken's recent 
 antagonist, coming out of the pension building. 
 
 " Is that yer pop, you whelp ? Then take that ; take 
 that, you unlicked cub!" cried the "colonel," empha- 
 sizing his remarks with a thrust of his fist, " and tell 
 your dad thah's Colonel Aiken's apologies." 
 
 Alarmed at his tone and words, Bunkery wheeled 
 around to interfere in this second difficulty of his pro- 
 tege's, exclaiming, 
 
 "Stop it, you idiot!" 
 
 But to his astonishment, instead of beating the boy, 
 Aiken was thrusting the five dollar note into the youth's 
 hand; then, clutching the newspaper, he resumed his 
 march down the street, muttering " can 't apol'gize 
 don't know how; nevah did it sah, on the honah of a 
 gentleman, nevah did it sah! Thah 't is now: third 
 edition. 'A Texas Gunnel gets more than he asks for.' 
 M-m-m. Further particulars in our next edition." 
 
 " Thought you had n't any money," growled Bunk- 
 ery. "I make it a rule not to be generous until after 
 I have paid my debts." 
 
 "Every man does what he kin do the easiest," re- 
 torted the Colonel. 
 
 Bunkery resented the Colonel's reference to his 
 tight-fistedness, but not choosing at this time to quar- 
 rel with him, asked:
 
 172 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " Are you ready to go to Washington?" 
 
 "To Washington! " exclaimed the other, turning 
 his 'pockets inside out. "I'd look pretty going to 
 "Washington. I 'd have to ride on the trucks or the 
 rear platform. I could n't get as fa's the next station." 
 
 " A h 1 of a philanthropist you are," said Bunk- 
 ery, "I s'pose I '11 have to pay your fare; I have n't 
 got a pass for myself yet"; and, after making an ap- 
 pointment with the "colonel," the Congressman sought 
 the collector of customs. 
 
 "Look here, Bunkery!" was the greeting he re- 
 ceived from a bluff and portly person with "battle- 
 door" side- whiskers, and otherwise conspicuous for 
 his perennial white neck- tie, and for a horse-shoe 
 bosom-pin with whip rampant, denoting that, in ad- 
 dition to his being collector of customs, he was Presi- 
 dent of the Injanner Trotting Association. "Look here, 
 Bunkery, you must do something for Cranage. He 's 
 got a cracked hoof and can 't get 'round the track as he 
 used to. First you knew he'll be working for Byles." 
 
 " I 've done my best," replied Bunkery ; " but I 
 can't make a place for him. Brewster's growing 
 worse every day; acts once in a while like he were 
 going to be pious and run the Government on the 
 Sunday School plan." 
 
 " Don't know how that is," said the collector; "but 
 the situation 's making Cranage desperate. He 's a 
 sister or niece or something he wants a place for, too; 
 and Byles is fairly smothering him with promises." 
 
 " Well, I can't command a single place for her just 
 now. I 've been going for one these six months a
 
 JBUNKERY, THE STATESMAN. 173 
 
 Mrs. Cleland's in it, but she's a protege of the Brew- 
 ster family, and was one of the few of the old set 
 left over. I '11 do my best, but it 's like trying to find 
 room for an extra hole in a musquito-net." 
 
 There was every reason for Bunkery's doing his 
 best; because Byles, a famous tobacconist, had deci- 
 ded that he was as much entitled to the seat in 
 the United States Senate Bunkery longed for, as 
 that eminent statesman himself; and Cranage, whose 
 u doleful dumps " had just been so feelingly portrayed, 
 enjoyed a large acquaintance, an organizing ability, 
 and a personal influence among the fellow members of 
 his religious sect, which were absolutely invaluable to 
 ambitious candidates. Bunkery had, as he admitted, 
 been unable to procure a position for him, and, on 
 learning that Byles was tampering with him, felt a no 
 common anxiety about it. 
 
 The door soon after opened, admitting a man with 
 stooping shoulders and long arms, arrayed in semi- 
 clerical costume, with a loose, black silk neck-tie about 
 his throat, a long-bodied vest, and a general air of 
 finding the burden of life a little heavier than he 
 wanted to carry. 
 
 " Hah! Cranage," said Bunkery; "I've been look- 
 ing for you." 
 
 " I 'm glad you were lucky enough to find me," said 
 Cranage, taking off his hat and rubbing his hand back 
 and forth over his thin hair; " for I was looking for 
 you, and it 's allers my luck not to get what I 'in look- 
 ing for." 
 
 " I 've been thinking about you," said Bunkery.
 
 174: A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " Same here; I've been thinking how much I 've 
 done for you and the party, and how little you and the 
 party have done for me. Spent money like water, let 
 my business go all to pieces two weeks at a time in 
 a hoss an' buggy all over the deestrick. talking up the 
 doubtful fellers. I saw more 'n three hundred on 'em, 
 an' your majority was only 280. A hundred dollars 
 at a clip that night, for the band and torch-lights to 
 give you a reception, an' next week at Richport the 
 same right out o' my balance at the bank, and a note 
 protested the nex' day." 
 
 " O, well it 's all right," said Bunkery, " I've about 
 fixed it now. I '11 have the papers sent you soon as I 
 get down there. I hear Byles is talking up his 
 aifairs to you. Better stick to old friends ; Byles 
 can 't do anything for you." 
 
 " Well, I dunno. He says he's receiving hundreds 
 of letters from all parts of the State urging him to be 
 a candidate." 
 
 " He 's always receiving hundreds of letters from all 
 parts of the State," said Bunkery. " He thinks a man 
 writing him from some cross-roads represents the 
 whole community. That 's flattering but 't ain't true, 
 and he'll be dreadfully disappointed. I shan't, be- 
 cause I 'm willing to take the chances, and ain't so 
 cock-sure as he is. You stick by your old friends, 
 Cranage, and you '11 be all right." 
 
 " I hope so," said Cranage; " then there's my step- 
 darter." 
 
 "O yes," said Bunkery, quickly, "I 've got a splen- 
 did place picked out for her. There's a widow
 
 BUNKERY, THE STATESMAN. 175 
 
 woman in it now, but it '11 be ready for her soon's 
 your's is." 
 
 And Cranage's loj^alty to Bunkery having been in- 
 spirited and reinforced, the company went its several 
 ways. Before reaching home, Bunkery, instead of 
 patronizing a rival establishment whose wooden Indi- 
 an was far bigger and handsomer, magnanimously 
 stopped and bought a week's supply of Byles's " Hon- 
 ey-dew fine-cut," which at his rate of consumption 
 was no mean token of a high-minded temper.
 
 176 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 ENLIGHTENING THE PUBLIC. 
 
 SUPPER was finished, and dusk was overshadowing 
 tne landscape, as Bunkery, sitting in his house and 
 preparing a speech for the evening, saw some one 
 hitching a cream-colored horse in front. Shortly af- 
 ter, the servant announced " Mrs. liackett." 
 
 " Evenin', Mr. Bunkery," said she with the bold- 
 ness, or rather with the matter-of-fact independence, 
 of a woman accustomed to looking after her own af- 
 fairs. 
 
 Eaismg his eyes, he saw a gaunt, upright figure, 
 sallow of complexion, past middle life, with bony but 
 executive hands, and a face pinched by her struggles to 
 keep out of poverty rather than by poverty itself. 
 
 " P'r'aps yuh 've furgotten me," she continued 
 " widder liackett; I live over to Pelham. I 've raised 
 some extra fine critters this las' two years. I wuz 
 talkin' to lanthy lanthy 's my darter, yuh know, by 
 Ashael Green, my fust husband; my second he 'd chil- 
 dern by his fust wife" 
 
 " Yes, yes, madam, but my time is precious " 
 
 "Well, lanthy an' I we lied awake las' week, talk- 
 in' an ' thinkin', an' thinkin' an' talkin' "
 
 EXLIGHTESIXG THE PUBLIC. 177 
 
 " I 'm afraid I can 't stay to hear any more, Mad- 
 am," said Mr. Bunkery. 
 
 " I was jest a comin' to it, ef yuh wa'n't in sech a 
 fret. She woke me right up in the middle of the night 
 with an awful dig in my ribs, an' I sez, ' Ian thy Green,' 
 sez I, ' hev you got the nightmare, or what is it, wa- 
 kin' me with snch a poke as that?' an' she sez, 'I 've 
 got it, mah.' ' Then I wish you 'd keep it to your- 
 self,' sez I. 'Ask Mr. Bunkery,' sez she. 'Twas as 
 if an angel from heaven hed up and spoke; an' I sez, 
 
 ' I '11 ' " 
 
 "But, Madam " 
 
 " An' so arter chores," continued Mrs. Hackett, un- 
 interruptedly, " I sez to lanthy, ' had Joshua or Gale 
 better go?' an' she sez, 'Josh ; Gale is all beat out.' 
 Caleb 's the oldest, but we allers call him ' Cale,' for 
 short." 
 
 Bunkery had risen ; but at this hint of the second 
 husband's sons by the first wife and one of them 
 with her he was prudent enough, for the sake of 
 these two voters, to hear her through. So he sat him- 
 self down to discover, if possible, the errand of this 
 mother in Israel, with her Joshua and Caleb. 
 
 " When you want a thing," she continued, " the 
 way 's ter cut right acrost lots an' ast for it, an' not 
 be sloshin' about a ten acre lot for what grows in one 
 corner on't."* 
 
 " Anything I can do for you ? " asked Mr. Bunk- 
 ery, " pension money, is it ? or a bill to collect ? " . 
 
 u Uhn, uhn ! " a half-guttural, half-nasal sound mean- 
 ing "no;" "I 'ten' to all them things myself. But 
 12
 
 178 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 Ian thy, she 's bin kinder shet up at home all her life, 
 an' she wants to see the world. She do n't hev a chance 
 at any fellers she'll look at; not even bnggy-ridin' ; 
 an' so I sez: ' Mr. Burikery he '11 git you an offis down 
 to "Wash 'n 'ton.' She wants ter learn ter sing, an' 
 p'r'aps play the pianny, an' we hain't got the money. 
 You put her in an offis with plenty o 7 pay an' little to 
 do, an' she '11 give her v'ice a lift that '11 cl'ar a ten- 
 rail fence." 
 
 "Has she a good voice?" asked Mr. Bunkery, cool- 
 ing his impatient profanity by thinking of the old 
 woman's two voters. 
 
 "TJhm, uhm!" she replied, a variation, with closed 
 lips, of the negative grunt, above referred to, and 
 meaning "yes." "Good v'ice! She oughter hev. Why, 
 her gran'mother she favors her gran'mother when 
 she was a gal, could call the cows from pastur' twq 
 mile off. What more could you ast of a v 'ice than 
 that?" 
 
 "Nothing, madame! I wo uldn 't think of asking 
 anything more." 
 
 "Jerushy!" cried Mrs. Hackett, looking out of the 
 window; "ef tharn't Josh, a-gnawin' the hide right 
 off your shade trees. Well, the harm 's all done now, 
 that's one comfut." 
 
 "The devil take the woman!" thought Mr. Bun- 
 kery; "a whole quarter of an hour wasted for the votes 
 of a pair of horses ! " He was rising again when her 
 next remark arrested him. 
 
 " Hain 't my husband said nothin' to you about this ? 
 He was to. But you can 't trust one on 'em. They
 
 ENLIGHTENING THE PUBLIC. 179 
 
 get to talkin' about sutlrin' else, an' fust thing yuh 
 know, they 're all in a ravel. Thar 's my husband 
 I've known him this fifteen year used to know his 
 fust wife; he's the wust hand to ravel, Mr. Bunkery, 
 yuh ever see. No matter where you take hold on him, 
 he'll ravel all out; an'' so I sez to myself, even ef he 
 don 't forgit it, he won 't git it straight." 
 
 "Your husband!" exclaimed Mr. Bunkery, after 
 several attempts to stop her, ""I thought you was a 
 widow widow Hackett !" 
 
 His words acted like an electric battery. She threw 
 her hands above her head, then crossed them on her 
 breast, and rocked in convulsions back and forth upon 
 her chair. Bunkery began inwardly to curse and to 
 swear, lest he had an epileptic or hysterical woman on 
 his hands. He was on the point of calling his wife, 
 when his visitor startled him again with screams of 
 laughter. 
 
 "Well! well! well! Ha! ha! ha! He! he! he! I 
 never see the beat on 't. I 'd forgot all about it. Yuh 
 see I was j'ined to my third, three days ago, an' I hed 
 forgotten all about it, that is, about my name; I'm 
 so used to the old one. I ain 't Widder Hackett any 
 longer. I 'm Mrs. Cranage. O, I 'm powerful weak 
 with the laughin'." 
 
 "Mrs. Cranage! Did Cranage marry you?" ex- 
 claimed Bunkery. 
 
 " Did Cranage marry me?" echoed the late relict 
 of the late Hackett, the laugh all out of her now. 
 " Yuh bet your life he married me when he said he 
 would. An' afore I said yes, he promised to git this 
 thing for Ian thy, too."
 
 180 A FAMOUS 'VICTORY. 
 
 " 0, yes, he spoke to me about it," said Mr. Bunk- 
 erj, " and I satisfied him on that point." 
 
 " Well, I want to be satisfied on that point," said 
 Mrs. Cranage. " Cranage can do what he likes with 
 the Methodis' vote, and I and lanthy can do what we 
 likes with Cranage." 
 
 "O, certainly, Mrs. Cranage," said Bunkery, anx- 
 ious to make amends for his mistake. " I have picked 
 out the place for your daughter. Good salary, short 
 hours. She '11 hear from it now in a very little 
 while." 
 
 "Well, we must, or Cranage will quit; I 've made 
 up my mind on that point; and when I do that, I '11 
 be durned if thar 's much of a show for anybodyelse's 
 mind, 't any rate if he 's married to me, and Cran- 
 age will tell you so." 
 
 " Byles has no chance, no chance at all. He can 't 
 do anything for you," said Mr. Bunkery. " Cranage 
 wants to stick by old friends, let me tell you. Had n't 
 you better stop in town and see the procession?" con- 
 tinued Bunkery, at the same time opening the door. 
 "It will be a very fine one bands, torch-lights and 
 speeches. I 'm going to make a speech myself. There 's 
 the marching, too; though I'm not so much im- 
 pressed with it as I was when I was younger. Still, 
 it 's necessary in this country, in order to set forth 
 political principulls properly." 
 
 " That's a good deal my fix," replied Mrs. Cranage. 
 
 " I do n't run to hear a brass band as I did once," 
 continued Bunkery, in a confidential way. 
 
 " I do n't go with you there, Mr. Bunkery," replied
 
 ENLIGHTENING THE PUBLIC. 181 
 
 Mrs. Cranage. " I must say a good team o' wind in- 
 struments stirs me up pretty considerable. But I 
 do n't git to go very often." 
 
 " Then you 'd better stop and hear them." 
 
 " What time does the meetin' take up? " she inquired. 
 
 "At eight o'clock; in about half an hour," was 
 the answer. 
 
 Leaving the house, the woman unhitched Joshua 
 who, judging from his rich cream color, had, like his 
 namesake, just come from a land overflowing with 
 milk and honey, and drove slowly down the street, 
 Joshua pricking up his yellow ears at the sound of 
 the music. As the darkness deepened, the red glare 
 reflected on the clouds, grew" brighter, and suddenly, 
 at the head of the sloping street, a river of fire, like a 
 volcanic eruption, appeared, rolling and streaming 
 down the road. 
 
 "How purty it is!" she said. "I wish Ian thy 
 could see it. It 's purtier 'n the Fourth o' July." 
 
 She was nearing the park where the bands were 
 playing, and the crowds were already assembling to 
 look at the procession and hear the music and speeches. 
 Joshua began dancing and edging toward the side- 
 walk, while his mistress cried "Whoa!" and tugged 
 and jerked, until she would have split his mouth up 
 to his ears, had it not been toughened by years of 
 feminine government in the wagon behind. As the 
 procession occupied the width of the road, and pre- 
 vented her further progress in that direction, she turned 
 into a side street, hitched her horse and decided, as she 
 said, " to see this thing out."
 
 182 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 She joined the crowd on the sidewalks, gazing with 
 open mouth at the transparencies, the torch-lights and 
 the mottoes. Not understanding exactly what they 
 meant, she thought them something wonderful. 
 
 "Down with the banker's money!" 
 
 " Down with the bloodsuckers of society ! " 
 
 "The people's dollar for all the people! " 
 
 " Bonfires for the bondholder! " 
 
 "A free ballot box!" 
 
 There were caricatures, too, designed and executed 
 by local artists with more prejudice than talent. 
 The procession countermarched along the wide street 
 forming a serpentine train of fire which swept in 
 gleaming circles around Mr. Bunkery on the stand. 
 From political opponents on the side- walks came cries 
 of derision, answered by cheers from the procession. 
 A stone or two thrown at a transparency was a more 
 serious argument than any previously advanced, and 
 provoked a logical rejoinder from a squad of torch- 
 bearers that charged with their burning torches upon 
 the gronp nearest the source of the projectile, severely 
 scorching the faces and singeing the hair and beards 
 of the spectators, who, however guilty of enjoying the 
 " hard hit " at the procession, were personally inno- 
 cent of the offense. But in carrying out broad and 
 general political principles, it is obviously impossible 
 to exercise nice discriminations in such matters, and 
 individual hardship must console itself with its self- 
 sacrifice to the public good. 
 
 The pageant was a long one, numbering by " actual 
 count" as Bun ke ry 's ." Ledger " announced next
 
 ENLIGHTENING THE PUBLIC. 183 
 
 morning, " 197 more than the ridiculous caricature of 
 a procession gotten up by our opponents last week, and 
 which consisted chiefly of small boys who ought to 
 have been in bed hours before." This arithmetical 
 superiority was considered as not only decisive of the 
 result of the vote-polling election day, but " an ample 
 vindication, at his home where he is known and loved, 
 of our much-slandered but estimable fellow-citizen." 
 
 Never having attended a political open air meeting 
 and "being in for it," as she said to herself, Mrs. 
 Cranage crowded toward the speaker determined on 
 " getting her money's wuth." 
 
 He began by thanking them for this unexpected 
 honor. It was the spontaneous uprising of the masses 
 (a voice, "you've paid for 'em out 'o your own 
 pocket"), who knew what they wanted and the right 
 place to come for it. It was high time to cure the 
 evils which afflicted the country. It was said that this 
 Government could not create money. He was Yankee 
 enough to want to know why. If there had been peo- 
 ple alive during chaos, some old fogy would have said, 
 you can't create light, and the next minute the poor 
 fool would have been blinded by the dazzle of the 
 light that was created. (Loud applause). It made 
 him boil over with patriotic rage when he heard a man 
 say, the Government of the United States, a govern- 
 ment of fifty millions of people, couldn 't create money, 
 just such money, and just as much or little money as 
 was wanted. A government that had crushed the 
 greatest rebellion in the world, and which had put a 
 million of men under arms not create money! It
 
 184 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 was a wild absurdity and a libel upon a free people. 
 Every patriot ought to resent it. They point us to 
 the experience of Europe, and to the experience of 
 China. But this country was not Europe, thank God ! 
 (Loud and uproarous applause) and the Chinese don 't 
 rule us not yet anyhow. What have we got to do 
 with abroad? (Cheers 'and yells of delight.) 
 
 " They used to say in Europe and they say so now, 
 that a country can't be governed without a king. 
 Well, we've shown them that a country can. (Ap- 
 plause.) They said gold is king and silver his prime 
 minister. Well, silver is king now, and we may de- 
 pose even him yet. There was once a set of folks 
 that said 'cotton is king.' Where are they now? 
 (a voice " in Congress " laughter.) The fact is, the 
 people is king in this country, an absolute monarch, a 
 king.that can do no wrong (applause),"and it can make 
 money out of nothing, or next to nothing. Laws good 
 for other countries don 't apply here. (Loud applause.) 
 We don't obey laws that the despots make for the 
 crushed masses in Europe." 
 
 (A voice " Can you make water run up hill in this 
 country?" Cries of "Put him out!" "Kill him!" 
 "He's a bloated aristocrat.") 
 
 " No, don't put him out," continued Bunkery, " let 
 him stay and learn something! He needs to. He 
 does n't put me out, I assure you. Can you make 
 water run up hill in this blood-bought land of liberty 1 
 he asks. I say, yes, sir. I say our fathers did not 
 fight and bleed for nothing. I say our husbands, 
 brothers, and sons did not lav down their lives in Synth-
 
 ENLIGHTENING THE PUBLIC. 185 
 
 era swamps in vain. They fought to make this the 
 most powerful country on the face of the earth. And 
 they did powerful enough to make water run up hill, 
 if necessary the grandest and most majestic govern- 
 ment the sun ever shone on. And if any man wants to 
 know how this glorious government can make water 
 run up hill, I will tell him. I will enlighten his 
 darkened intellect." (Laughter. " Give it to him ! ") 
 " It can put a steam-engine and a force pump at the 
 bottom of every hill and pump it up." 
 
 (Loud yells and cheers. Shouts of " Good for you !" 
 "Give it to the old scoundrel!" The tumult of ap- 
 plause lasted so long that Bunkery could only stand 
 and bow and smile his acknowledgments. He was un- 
 able to proceed for some little time.) 
 
 At this moment, some mischievous opponent giv- 
 ing a false signal, the band burst out with " Nancy 
 Lee." Bunkery called for silence, but his voice, ordi- 
 narily superior to brazen instruments, could not over- 
 come the blare of the brass and the din of the hide- 
 beaten harmony; so that many of his audience, in- 
 cluding Mrs. Cranage, thinking the ceremonies over, 
 took their departure. 
 
 Ian thy, long of limb and swarthy of feature, was 
 waiting for her mother, and on hearing the sound of 
 the wheels came out of the house, asking, 
 
 " Did ye git him to git it for me, mah? " 
 
 " Umh, umh," affirmed her mother; " a gallus place, 
 too; big wages, nuthin' to do. You kin hev all the 
 buggy ridin' you want." 
 
 " By gum, that 's bully, mah ! when kin I go f " 
 
 " O, nex' week, I reckon. He did n't say exac'ly."
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 FIGHTING MONOPOLIES. 
 
 A FEW mornings after, Bunkery, with his baggage 
 packed for Washington, stopped at the entrance of the 
 railroad station, and, making his way up the stairs in 
 one of the towers that flanked the front of the edifice, 
 marched through several sets of offices until he arrived 
 at the room of Mr. Ransom, superintendent of the I. 
 B. X. and Q. Trunk Railroad Co. 
 
 He found there a grim, sallow, slightly-built, posi- 
 tive-looking victim of dyspepsia, who was that morn- 
 ing suffering from an unusually severe attack of his 
 daily tormenter. He had recently been appointed to 
 his position, and the acquaintance between himself 
 and Bunkery was only casual. 
 
 " Mr. Ransom, I believe," said Bunkery. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "I am Thomas B. Bunkery." 
 
 "Are "you?" 
 
 This did not look very promising, but Bunkery pro- 
 ceeded : 
 
 " I am just starting for "Washington, and find it con- 
 venient to use a pass or two." 
 
 " Very likely. Everybody does. The pass system
 
 FIGHTING MONOPOLIES. 187 
 
 has been so badly abused on this road, that when I 
 came in I shut down on it." 
 
 " I don't wonder," said Bunkery, " you must be 
 plagued to death with people applying for them. It 's 
 a very wholesome reform indeed. If agreeable, please 
 make mine out for six months, as I shall be coming 
 home once or twice during the session. I suppose I 
 can get it extended beyond that time, if I wish it?" 
 
 But Mr. Hansom merely continued reading the in- 
 dorsements on a file of vouchers, picking out a few for 
 further examination. 
 
 u Business is lively," suggested Bunkery. 
 
 " Very much pressed indeed," replied Eansom. 
 
 " I '11 call again in a few minutes if it will be more 
 convenient." 
 
 "Very much more, very much more indeed," said Mr. 
 Kan so m. 
 
 " I shall take the nine-forty-five train, east," said 
 Bunkery, opening the door to retire. 
 
 " Ah, that is a curious coincidence," replied the 
 other,,"! am to take the nine-forty, west." 
 
 " Then I '11 take it now," said Bunkery coming back 
 and closing the door. 
 
 " But it does not go for twenty minutes yet." 
 
 " What does not go for twenty minutes?" asked Mr. 
 Bunkery. 
 
 " The nine-forty-five train." 
 
 "I'll take my pass now; you undoubtedly under- 
 stand, me," said Bunkery growing angry; "this is 
 mere trifling." 
 
 " What en titles you to a pass, if you '11 be so good?" 
 asked Mr. Eansom.
 
 183 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 l < What entitles me?" echoed Bunkery, bewildered 
 by the man's insolence. 
 
 "Why should we give you a pass? What reason is 
 there in it? " 
 
 "What reason? Do you know who I am, sir? Do 
 you know I 've been elected Mayor of Injannerville 
 twice; the second time by an increased majority, sir? 
 That I have been" 
 
 " O, yes, I know that, and a sight more, I hope; 
 
 but I don 't know why I should give you a pass." 
 
 Bunkery was almost speechless, not so much with 
 rage, though he was very angry, but with astonishment 
 at this unexpected refusal of what he supposed would 
 be as easy to get as a light for his cigar. 
 
 " Not give me a pass! " he cried, at length. " Why 
 I never heard of such a thing. I 've always had a 
 pass." 
 
 " If you can give me any good reason for giving you 
 a pass, you shall have it," said superintendent Hansom. 
 
 "I want it, that's reason enough," said Bunkery, 
 his temper, that is his good temper, quite gone. 
 
 Mr. Ransom, taking his book of blank passes, filled 
 one out, and, tearing it off, handed it to Bunkery. 
 
 The latter, glancing at it, grew red until the hue of 
 his face blended with that of his whiskers, and the 
 tide flooded his countenance to the very roots of his 
 hair. Tearing the pass into fragments, he flung 
 them into the superintendent's face and, muttering, 
 "the old scoundrel," stalked out of the room. 
 
 The mutilated paper read : " Pass Mr. Thos. B. 
 Bunkery from Injannerville to Washington and return.
 
 FIGHTING MONOPOLIES. 189 
 
 Time, ninety days. Given on account of charity. 
 Ransom, General Manager." 
 
 He made his way down stairs, almost blind with 
 chagrin, and, after paying for his ticket, took the 
 train, and an oath that he would sweep these grind- 
 ing monopolists from the face of the earth. In truth, 
 he employed most of his journey in thinking of the 
 best method for curbing the insolence of soulless cor- 
 porations. 
 
 The dyspeptic railroad superintendent had indeed, 
 cither ignorantly or consciously, insulted one of the 
 most distinguished party leaders, and to deny him the 
 prerogatives of his office was a piece of insolence not 
 often perpetrated in the United States. 
 
 As it has been hinted, Bunkery had been crowned 
 with diplomatic honors. He had " claims " to a high 
 position under Brewster's administration, and his 
 friends had undertaken to squeeze him by main force 
 into the cabinet. Brewster resisted, remarking to him- 
 self: 
 
 " The Lord knows I have crooked sticks enough 
 already. Hydraulic pressure can 't put him into my 
 cabinet." 
 
 According to the untrustworthy gossip that is 
 always flying about in political circles, Bunkery first 
 bought a German phrase-book, but after studying it 
 a few minutes, took u French without a Master A 
 Complete Guide to the French Language between Day- 
 light and Dark." He decided upon Paris, for, in the 
 other case, he would have had to begin by learning 
 tha German alphabet; whereas the French people had,
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 as he said, put their lingo into a white man's letters. 
 He improved his time and mind with patient study, 
 until everybody admitted that he spoke French like a 
 native a native of the United States that is to 
 say. President Brewster had a sovereign contempt 
 for foreigners, and sending Bimkery to Paris, and 
 another statesman in a gray homespun suit to London, 
 tickled him hugely. 
 
 In spite of Parisian attractions, Bunkery's time hung 
 heavy in those happy hunting-grounds of the native 
 American. He was more "at home" cutting out 
 work for the "boys;" "setting up the pins" for some- 
 body's appointment or nomination; and "working," 
 either for himself or for somebody pledged in turn to 
 "work" for him. For in 18 a great deal of this sort 
 of thing seems to have been introduced into Amer- 
 ] can politics. There was apparently no end to Brews- 
 ter's bad influence. 
 
 Bunkery took special delight in his membership of 
 the House of Representatives. lie loved to hear his 
 own voice rising above the din and tumult of three 
 hundred others, and to influence legislation by his 
 .superior shouting. In Paris all his arts rusted for 
 want of use; even his lordly gesture of tossing back 
 his mane grew clumsy from want of practice. Could 
 he, without exposure to arrest for a disturbance of the 
 peace, have found a secluded spot at Versailles or 
 Fontainbleau, it would have afforded him a little sat- 
 isfaction to roar "Mr. Speaker" to the woods and the 
 fountains, a.nd "hurl back the falsehood in the teeth" of 
 an echo. He enjoyed only a tantalizing pleasure in lis-
 
 FIGHTING MONOPOLIES. 191 
 
 tening to the debates in the French Chamber of 
 Deputies, as well as in the roaring, the riot, the calls 
 to order, and the compliments which were exchanged 
 among the members. On the whole, there was rather 
 more of it than he was used to in Washington, so that 
 at times it seemed something like a burlesque of what 
 is called debate in the American capital. For the 
 most part, however, his share as a mere spectator of 
 the fray, instead of "drinking delight of .battle with 
 his peers," made him homesick and forlorn. More 
 than once the cries and gestures, though the words 
 were meaningless, excited him almost to the point of 
 taking part in their "deliberations," as he did once at 
 home, by standing on the top of his desk and shriek- 
 ing, "Order! order! I call the strutting turkey-gob- 
 bler from Winnipeg to order!" 
 
 On these occasions he deeply regretted his ignor- 
 ance of French; particularly when an orator of the 
 Right awakened his party to huzzas and bravoes by a 
 reply to a member on the Left. " He mnst have called 
 him a 'court-jester' or a 'little fellow '" said Mr. 
 Bunkery to himself. The assaulted member "hurled 
 back" a "withering retort" which provoked the Left to 
 bravoes and huzzas. "I reckon he called him a ' mon- 
 key,' or a ' fat man, ' " thought Bunkery, knowing the 
 eifect of such brilliant satire at "Washington ; " nothing 
 else would have stirred 'em up like that." 
 
 "What's all this row about?" he asked of an Eng- 
 lishman next him. 
 
 "Well, one little blackguard called the other an as- 
 sassin, and the big one said the other cove was 'a Bis- 
 marck spy. ' "
 
 192 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 Then Bunkery grieved that he had not devoted at 
 least another week to the study of French, so as to 
 have entered more into the enjoj'ment of these "de- 
 bates." He had an idea he might have got a "wrinkle'' 
 or two which would have added to his usefulness in 
 "Washington. 
 
 For, wearied of this provoking pantomime this 
 mere spirit-photograph of persons and scenes which he 
 loved so well he had already sent in his resignation 
 and was on the eve of departing for his native land. 
 On his return, he was elected "Congressman at large" 
 from "Injanner;" though perhaps it might be difficult 
 to say how his being at large distinguished him from 
 some other members of his party. 
 
 Under these circumstances the contumely with 
 which this railroad superintendent had responded to 
 his reasonable request for a pass, harassed him sorely 
 as he rode along. His very name derived, on his 
 mother's side, from Colonel Thomas Bullion, whose 
 famous passion for metallic currency had, in success- 
 ive veins, been mixed with so much alloy that it had 
 disappeared altogether from Bunkery's circulation, 
 ought of itself to have protected him. 
 
 The first day of the session, Bunkery, smarting un- 
 der his wrongs, introduced a bill forbidding any rail- 
 road company in the United States to charge passen- 
 gers more than half a cent per mile, and another one 
 providing that all grain-producers and their families 
 should be furnished free transportation, according to 
 the area of land under cultivation in their respective. 
 Congressional districts. This, he claimed, would be
 
 FIGHTING MONOPOLIES. 193 
 
 both a premium on grain-raising, and a hint to the 
 " railroad magnates" that they were but the servants 
 of the people. 
 
 The president of the I. B. X. and Q., having had an 
 inkling of the trouble which spurred Bunkery to this 
 defense of the agricultural interests, called upon him, 
 and, after handing him an annual pass, apologized for 
 the conduct of his subordinate. 
 
 " I should n't think your road could afford to keep 
 such a man," said Bunkery, deeming it unworthy of 
 his dignity to seem as softened as he really was by 
 the corporate graciousness thus shown him. 
 
 "A little testy, I admit, but he's too valuable a 
 man to be dismissed for any trifling reason," said the 
 president of the road. 
 
 "Excuse me! I don't call his offense trivial at all. 
 If any of my men were to behave toward a member 
 of Congress in that way, he would go out of his office 
 as he would out of a gun." 
 
 " O, of course, in a government office it's different," 
 said the railroad president, slightingly; " One man 
 will do about as well as another there! But in the 
 railroad business, w T here there are great interests at 
 stake, you cannot find a man that '11 fill the bill, just 
 by advertising for him in the papers." 
 
 " Well, I don't think the government business is so 
 insignificant as you make out," said Bunkery, piqued 
 at the tone of contempt which the other used in speak- 
 ing of the civil service. " There 's the affairs of fifty 
 million people to be looked after, and anywhere from 
 two to three hundred millions of money to be dis- 
 13
 
 191 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 bursed and accounted for. That shows pretty well by 
 the side of a railroad." 
 
 " 0, yes, of course," said his visitor, with an inno- 
 cent air; " but we could n't afford to hire or dismiss 
 men for the same reason you do. We have to take 
 them because they can do the work we want done, and 
 we make sure of their doing it by keeping them in 
 their places as long as they do it well. It would soon 
 bankrupt a railroad company, if its employes knew 
 they 'd all be dismissed every leap-year, unless they 
 put in their time working up the stockholders to keep 
 in the same president and board of directors. But 
 the United States are rich, and can stand a good deal 
 of that racket. However, I must bid you good day. 
 "YVe hope you '11 not press your bills too far." 
 
 Bunkery intimated that nothing further should be 
 heard of them. Nevertheless, in order to remind his 
 constituents of his vigilance for their welfare, and to 
 maintain his popularity at home, he occasionally called 
 them up, pushing neither to a vote, but preferring to 
 hold them over the heads of the railroad companies, 
 rather than cut himself off from all favors by fulfill- 
 ing his threats. Besides, he was looking forward to 
 measures, which, if successful, would, in his judgment, 
 lift him quite out of reach of any man's contempt or 
 insolence.
 
 PERCEVAL'S DREAM. 195 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 PERCEVAL'S DREAM. 
 
 EARLY one morning, about this time, Augustus Per- 
 ceval called upon his relative, the President, whom, 
 with the omnipresent Dan forth, he found just rising 
 from the breakfast-table. 
 
 Brewster was possessed of a strong family feeling 
 that might have been affection, or that might have 
 been clannish pride. Perhaps it was to this weak ec- 
 centricity, perhaps to some other motive, that his kins- 
 man owed his place at the head of a bureau in one of 
 the departments. The promotion had, to say the 
 least, not reduced the cubic contents of Perceval's 
 conceit. Combined with his dark suit, his black silk 
 vest, and his gold chain attached to a silver watch and 
 ornamenting his portly person, it gave him, more 
 than ever, the mien of one of the pillars of the Con- 
 stitution. 
 
 "Everybody keeps asking me," he remarked, taking 
 a seat near the table, " if you are going to veto Bunk- 
 ery's bills for the issue of more greenbacks and the 
 increase of pensions, and I don't know what to tell 
 them." 
 
 "Tell them you do not know," replied Brewster 
 tersely.
 
 196 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " They say," continued Perceval, pulling out a 
 newspaper, " that a president so anxious for a brilliant 
 administration and who recommends steamship sub- 
 sidies, Mississippi levees, and magnificent government 
 railroad projects, must know that these schemes require 
 money, and he is bound to do all he can to supply it.'' 
 
 " Newspapers never affect me," replied Brews ter, 
 " I edited one myself for a short time, and I know, 
 how they are made and all about the men who make 
 them." 
 
 " A veto '11 split the party like a buzz-saw," contin- 
 ued Perceval, " and what 's more, it '11 put me in a 
 very embarrassing position, for I have denied the ru- 
 mors right along." 
 
 " You must not talk so much," remarked Brewster. 
 " A man who slops over, always stands in a puddle." 
 
 This hurt Perceval's feelings, but, having some fur- 
 ther business to attend to, he proceeded: 
 
 "Bunkery is bothering the life out of me about his 
 man, Cranage. It 's Cranage from morning till 
 night. Though he knows there 's not room enough 
 to stick in even a pin, he tells Cranage I 've got plen- 
 ty of places. His man Aiken is good for nothing, 
 and he has somebody he wants to put in, in Mrs. 
 Cleland's place." 
 
 " I cannot be bothered with it," said Brewster. 
 
 " Why not tell Cranage," suggested Danforth, 
 " that, if Bunkery will consent, he shall have Aiken's 
 place." 
 
 Perceval looked radiant. 
 
 "Capital! Capital! A capital idea!" he exclaimed.
 
 PERCEVAL'S DREAM. 197 
 
 " I was just on the point of thinking of it myself. 
 I '11 have tJiat fixed before night." 
 
 After a short conference further, he went away in 
 a most cheerful frame of mind, feeling equal to re- 
 sisting or circumventing a wilderness of Congress- 
 men. 
 
 Finishing his duties early, he strolled over to the 
 House of Representatives to hear Bunkery make the 
 closing speech in favor of the measure on which he 
 had staked the reputation of his career. It was his 
 bill for abolishing the national banks, and largely in- 
 creasing the greenback issue. 
 
 "When the chaplain of the House compared it to 
 the original fiat of the Almighty in the creation of 
 the world, and afterward when the bill was put on its 
 final passage and sent to the President for his signa- 
 ture, it may easily be conceived that it was a proud 
 day for Bunkery. Grandly tossing his mane and 
 looking around the House with a glance of leonine 
 triumph, he made his way to the street-car with an 
 exultation he had rarely known before. " "Where," he 
 asked himself, in a semi-conscious soliloquy, " would 
 this mighty current of success stop? "What limit 
 could any one set to the greatness and the power 
 which had at last found expression in this statesman's 
 measitre?" He began thinking of the "White House 
 and its next possible occupant; considering some 
 of the previous tenants, he was not perhaps without 
 justification for his presumptuous romance. 
 
 Suddenly he stumbled across Mordecai, though his 
 real name was Perceval, standing on the street corner.
 
 198 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 The latter was on tlie point of saying, " splendid 
 effort that of yours," but Bunkery burst out: 
 
 " I want to come to an understanding with you 
 now and here; and I don't want any of your insolent 
 messages telling me I can have one man put in, if 
 I'll consent to have another put out. I intend to 
 have Aiken kept there," 
 
 " O, I thought perhaps he had about paid up," re- 
 torted Perceval. 
 
 " I know perfectly well where the insolence comes 
 from, too," continued Bunkery. " Sooner or later I 
 intend to have .a settlement with that man at the 
 other end of the Avenue." 
 
 " That man at the other end of the Avenue, is going 
 to veto your bill," said Perceval, with his enjoyable 
 sense of imparting information enhanced in this case 
 by the consciousness that it would be unwelcome. 
 
 Bunkery was momentarily stunned, then, recollecting 
 the notorious untrustworthiness of his informant, re- 
 fused to believe it. 
 
 "If he does he'll be blowtf so high that that young 
 woman up yonder," he said, glancing at the Goddess 
 of Liberty on the apex of the capitol, "will come down 
 before he does, and you may tell him so," he added, 
 as he stepped upon the car. 
 
 In spite of the bold face he had put on, Perceval 
 was a little startled at the outcome of this interview. 
 He had intended accompanying the statesman to the 
 hotel which both of them patronized with their pres- 
 ence, and which, although already dedicated by name 
 to one of the Apostles, was, Perceval fancied, far more
 
 PERCEVAL'S DREAM. 199 
 
 distinguished by his casual sojourn within its saintly 
 precincts than by its own apostolic honors. 
 
 But Perceval's chagrin was of a sort to be easily 
 soothed by a good dinner, and he came out of the 
 dining-room without a trace on mind or face of the 
 mortification he had suffered at Mr. Bunkery's hands. 
 
 As he approached the desk in the office of the hotel 
 and procured a tooth-pick from the little crystal barrel 
 which held them, the proprietor on the other side beck- 
 oned him within. 
 
 " I 'd like it, Mr. Perceval, if you 'd settle your ac- 
 count. It has been running a long time now, and I 
 want the money." 
 
 " But I have n't money enough for myself, so it 's 
 absurd to suppose that I have any for anybody else," 
 replied Perceval jauntily, in hopes of having the affair 
 settled by a joke. 
 
 " Jokes pay no bills," said the landlord with slight 
 tartness. " I Ve not been in a hurry, but there 's rea- 
 son in all things, and I wish you 'd attend to it." 
 
 " I '11 attend to it to-morrow," said Perceval, walking 
 to the telephone and ordering a messenger. 
 
 After dispatching a note to an acquaintance, who 
 was directed to meet him later at a short distance 
 from the hotel, he ascended to his room. 
 
 In a few moments he was joined by an assistant 
 door-keeper of the Senate, the clerk of the Mississippi 
 Improvement Committee, and two or three other more 
 or less important parts of that mechanism called the 
 Government, who proposed relieving, by a rubber or 
 two of cards, their arduous discharge of the duties per-
 
 200 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 taining to that section of the universe assigned to their 
 care. 
 
 They were in the midst of their game, when Dan- 
 forth came in with some papers for Perceval. After 
 laying them down he opened the door to go out, but, get- 
 ting interested in the game, closed it again and stood 
 behind Perceval looking at the players. 
 
 " Yes " said Perceval, not perceiving him and con- 
 tinuing the remarks which his entrance had inter- 
 rupted, " the old man was seriously thinking of clap- 
 ping a veto on to the Bunkery bill. But I went up there 
 and says I, Aaron, you're all wrong; you're making 
 the greatest mistake of your life in my opinion ; if 
 you 've got very far along on that tack (I '11 play it 
 alone), you must get back on the right track, somehow. 
 He thanked me and said he guessed he was rather 
 hasty; that my advice was well put and worth think- 
 ing over; and he should probably follow it." 
 
 There was a subdued hush in the room, as if Perce- 
 val's familiarity with executive greatness had, for 
 their benefit, tinctured the atmosphere with a rarified 
 solution of it; but a close observer would have been 
 amused at Danforth's countenance. 
 
 *' Eight smart man, that Bunkery," said an appli- 
 cant for an " Injanner " post-office, who had come in 
 with the clerk of the Mississippi Eiver Improvement 
 Committee. 
 
 "Yes, he is," continued Perceval ;" but he meets 
 with his match now and then, in my opinion. He's 
 been sending a man named Cranage to me with an 
 open letter"
 
 PERCEVAL'S DREAM. 201 
 
 "Yes, I 've heard of him," said the embryonic post- 
 master of " Injanner; " " lie 's got a powerful hold on 
 the Methodists, they say." 
 
 "Don't know about that," said Perceval; "don't 
 allow any religion in my bureau. Well, this letter 
 says I must find a place for Cranage; that I could 
 just's well 's not; that he, Bunkery, had been put off 
 long enough, and he 'd be heard from unless some- 
 thing was done. Most people would have been grav- 
 eled by such a fix as that, but I saw through it in a 
 flash. Bunkery already has a man named Aiken in 
 one of the best places going (it 's my deal), and so 
 when this fellow comes again with his ' money-or- 
 your-life ' sort of a letter, I says: 'Tell Bunkery 
 tlioro 's nothing would suit me better than doing him 
 a favor, and to-morrow Aiken shall be bounced, and 
 you shall have his place.' The fellow's "eyes fairly 
 danced in his head as he went off, but I sha'n't see any 
 more of him in my opinion. (Count us two.)" 
 
 Again there was a brief pause of admiration at 
 the intellect capable of grappling with such difficul- 
 ties. 
 
 "I tell you, gentlemen," added Perceval looking 
 about him at his audience and patting his forehead 
 with his finger, " God Almighty did n't give me these 
 brains for nothing" 
 
 " What an old fraud you are, Perceval!" exclaimed 
 Danforth, unable longer to contain himself. " When 
 you talked about the veto, the old man said you were 
 slopping over as usual, and / suggested that way of 
 fixing Bunkery, because you said he was bothering the 
 life out of you."
 
 202 A FAMOUS, VICTORY. . 
 
 " O, perhaps that was the way," said Perceval, look- 
 ing up in astonishment. 
 
 " Of course, no one could expect you to remember 
 all the trifling details of an affair like that," said Dan- 
 forth sneeringly, between whom and Perceval no love 
 was ever lost. 
 
 " O, no," replied Perceval, " I 'm constantly making 
 these little suggestions to the President and I don't 
 pretend to set as much store by them as do some 
 others that are always around him." 
 
 " Neither does he," said Danforth retiring. 
 
 The game did not last long after this and Perceval's 
 guests retired with much less deference than they had 
 shown on entering. 
 
 The match which, at this interesting seance, Ban- 
 forth suddenly scratched, exposing the exceeding hum- 
 bug of the mysteries Perceval attempted to exhibit, 
 spoiled, at least with this audience, his business as a 
 political medium. 
 
 Perceval left the hotel and walked up the famous 
 avenue the length of a block, where he was joined by a 
 shambling but decently dressed man who followed him 
 a little ia the rear. 
 
 Proceeding to the White House, he mounted the 
 stairs, and, leaving his companion outside the door, 
 stood in Brewster's presence. lie noticed that the 
 President was reading Bunkery's inflation bill and 
 making memoranda as he read. 
 
 " I 'd like to introduce a friend of mine who, has an 
 invention for " 
 
 " I cannot see him now," said Brewster.
 
 PERCEVAL'S DBS AM. 203 
 
 " Well, the fact is, I brought him along with me." 
 
 He opened the door, and, in the loose-jointed man 
 who shambled forward, the President recognized the 
 inventor of the changeable inks, who had called on him 
 at Eoxbury. 
 
 " Show him the door!" said Brewster. 
 
 Perceval, in a snubbed and humiliated manner, let 
 him out, but came back and, in a few minutes, recover- 
 ing himself, proceeded. 
 
 " He 's an invention he 's let me into, without pay- 
 ing him a cent. I put a suit of clothes on him, but 
 they 're awfully cheap. I calculated they 'd only last 
 just long enough to get the thing agoin' and then I '11 
 shake him. It '11 be the makiii' of this administration, 
 in my opinion. You 're going to be very unpopular 
 in this veto business, but this '11 put you all right. It 's 
 a process for increasing the wealth of the country at 
 the expense of a few chemicals. I can use $25,000 to 
 advantage. He has two kinds of ink. One will fade 
 in three months so's you might as well look for the 
 printing as for hair on a gun-barrel. -The other takes 
 three months to come out. With the first ink, yon 
 print on one side of a bill, ' this is one thousand dol- 
 lars,' and on the other side, with the other ink, you 
 print, 'this is three thousand or ten thousand dollars.' In 
 three months, the thousand-dollar side will have gone to 
 glory, and the other heave in sight like a new moon. 
 You take your thousand dollar bill and just sit 'round 
 till the three months are up arid you '11 have from three 
 to ten times as much as you started with. It 's a big- 
 ger thing than the discovery of America; it beats
 
 20-i A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 striking oil as striking oil beat ordinary well-digging, 
 in my opinion. You '11 be elected long 's you live, or 
 can go across and board for nothing with those Kings. 
 And then you can hand over the fellows that '11 hatch 
 the three-pounders to your friends, don't you see? and 
 give the small fry to the common folks. A man 
 might as well be as blind as the fish in the Mammoth 
 Cave not to see he can make this nation the richest in 
 the world, in my opinion. It will be a grand lottery, 
 only everybody 'II draw a prize," said Perceval, com- 
 ing to a pause at last. 
 
 President Brewster, carefully wiping his pen and 
 laying it down in front of him, wheeled his chair about 
 and said without anger but with marked deliberation : 
 
 " You go around making both of us ridiculous. I am 
 constantly hearing of your speeches, and in a day or 
 two they get into the papers. I have always tried to do 
 my best by you, because your father was kind to me 
 when I was a boy ; but if you can't keep still, I will send 
 you adrift, so as not to be responsible for your idiocies." 
 
 It is popularly believed that worms and treadmills 
 will turn when stepped on. It is certain that some 
 persons, notorious for the ease with which they can be 
 snubbed and bullied, do, without warning, at last re- 
 sent an excess of the tyranny and humiliation to which 
 they have previously submitted with misleading meek- 
 ness. 
 
 Much to Brewster's astonishment, Perceval, instead, 
 of collapsing as he had always done before, came for- 
 ward. 
 
 "I am badly off, " said he. " This fellow's scheme
 
 PERCEVAL'S DREAM. 205 
 
 seems all right, in my opinion, and if you'll give me 
 a lift I '11 let things go along as they are." 
 
 "And if I don't, what then?" asked Brews ter puz- 
 zled. "It appears you are a spendthrift and want me 
 to pay your debts. I have done little else since I can re- 
 member. As there has got to be an end to it sometime, 
 I will end it now. " 
 
 Perceval was frightened, but his fright ' made him 
 desperate. By an exertion of what, in his case, was 
 almost superhuman courage, he drew his chair close 
 to Brewster's, and, for several minutes, talked with- 
 out interruption in a low and mysterious tone. Final- 
 ly, wondering just where the bolt would descend upon 
 him, he stopped, drew back, and prepared himself for 
 the worst. 
 
 " Well," said Brewster, in a mild and almost pater- 
 nal tone, taking up his pen, " I have something more 
 important on hand than listening to your queer 
 dreams. It seems you remember them a good while." 
 
 " It was n't a dream," said Perceval. 
 
 " O, yes it was, Perceval a devilish queer dream 
 a devilish bad one, too a dream a man had better 
 forget. What makes you want to remember it? " 
 
 " I can 't help remembering it," said Perceval. " It 
 \vas n't a dream at all, in my opinion. I thought you 'd 
 like to hear it. I thought other people would like to 
 hear it." 
 
 " If you should tell it to other people they would 
 think you were crazy; and would say why does not 
 Brewster put that pet of his into a lunatic asylum?" 
 
 At the words "lunatic asylum," Perceval grew
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 pale. He had a large confidence in Brewster's re- 
 sources and in his readiness to employ them. Brew- 
 ster, perceiving this change in his demeanor, added: 
 
 " Of course, I do not want to go to extremes in cur- 
 ing you of the hallucinations, but it is a case which re- 
 quires close looking after. I might have to put you 
 in charge of those who make these things a special 
 study. You see, you are the victim of two delusions 
 one about the paper money, the other about what you 
 thought you heard that night when you were so sound 
 asleep." 
 
 Perceval looked gloomy, but said nothing, and 
 Brewster continued: 
 
 " I can arrange to settle those little embarrassments 
 of yours, and if you'll not give way to these fits of 
 talkativeness you are subject to, and will live more 
 reputably, we '11 make a man of you yet. You are too 
 visionary. Perhaps you had better go off for awhile. 
 How would you like New Orleans? I do not know 
 anything better for a man in your disturbed condition 
 of mind than a course of Louisiana politics. They 
 have n't their equal for giving a man practical views.'' 
 
 " To New Orleans?" gasped Perceval. " Why I 'd 
 die of yellow fever in less than two weeks, in my 
 opinion." ' 
 
 "Do not get excited, Perceval! You speak as if it 
 would be a national calamity. What do you think of 
 the Sandwich Islands, then 3 They are healthy enough. 
 We send the broken-down workers to the Sandwich 
 Islands, to recruit." 
 
 " I don't want to think of them at all," said Perce-
 
 PERCEVAL'S DREAM. 207 
 
 val. " There 's the long week of railroading seven 
 times the risk of an ordinary journey; then the nasty 
 sea voyage it would be just my luck to be drowned, 
 in my opinion." 
 
 " You must think of it, or something like it. You 
 would be happier to die and have done with it, than to 
 be all the time afraid to die. I guess we '11 put you 
 clown for the Sandwich Islands, though if you had 
 rather go to Montreal and freeze to death I am not 
 particular." 
 
 " Well, the Sandwich Islands," said Perceval with 
 a little shudder at the sea, or rather at the thought of 
 the sea, for he had never trusted his precious self on 
 anything more dangerous than a ferry-boat. 
 
 " Go home now, and sleep soundly! " said Brewster, 
 as if talking to a chastised and subjugated child, "to- 
 morrow you will undoubtedly awake with your head 
 clear and all these illusions entirely gone." 
 
 And waving him away, he settled himself to his 
 work again.
 
 208 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 A FATAL ILLNESS. 
 
 IN the early part of the following forenoon, the 
 President was waited upon by a member of the House 
 of Representatives from " Injanuer," who was deeply 
 interested in the success of Mr. Byles, Mr. Bunkery's 
 rival for the Senatorship. He had evidently been 
 walking fast, and, though his face was solemn, and 
 he spoke in a low and sympathetic voice, he was eager 
 and excited. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear of your affliction, Mr. Presi- 
 dent, and I would not have called at such a time did 
 I not feel the imperative necessity of acting at once." 
 
 The President, bewildered by his words, looked at 
 him in surprise. 
 
 " My affliction," he murmured. 
 
 " Yes, sir; the sudden and providential removal of 
 your relative, Perceval." 
 
 The President muttered to himself, "He has been 
 talking already; nothing but death will silence him." 
 Then he said aloud : " I should hardly describe it as 
 an affliction." 
 
 The gentleman stared, and thought, " If I felt so, 
 I don't think I would admit it." Brewster's remark
 
 A FATAL ILLNESS. < 209 
 
 so embarrassed him that he was at a loss for further 
 words, and the President said : 
 
 " Please explain yourself! " 
 
 "Do you not know? Have you not heard that Mr. 
 Perceval is dead ? It was about the vacancy that I 
 called to speak to you in the interest of my friend, 
 Byles of Injanner." 
 
 " Perceval dead Augustus Perceval dead! " inter- 
 rupted Brewster, in tones so loud, that Danforth hear- 
 ing them, rose and came hurriedly forward. " When, 
 did he d ie ? Where ? What was the matter ? " 
 
 " Last night or .rather this morning, at his hotel. 
 Some of the hotel people said so. When the porter 
 went for the doctor in the middle of the night, he 
 was not 'expected to live the attack was so sudden." 
 
 " I have not heard a word of it. I must see to it 
 at once. Good morning! " said Brewster to the con- 
 gressman, ending the interview; but as the latter 
 moved away he said : 
 
 " Do not forget, Mr. President, the priority of my 
 application." 
 
 Brewster said nothing more, but turned to Law- 
 rence, who was reading a telegram which had that 
 moment arrived. His face expressed renewed aston- 
 ishment as he handed it to Brewster. It was an 
 application from a Philadelphia politician for the 
 vacancy which, as he was informed from trustworthy 
 sources in Washington, had just occurred by the death 
 of Mr. Perceval. 
 
 The president and Danforth looked at each other. 
 Their expression could not have been called so much a 
 -14
 
 210 . A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 look of joy as of relief. Brewster pressed liis hand 
 softly and confidentially upon Danforth's arm, as if 
 that were a sufficient commentary upon this strange 
 news. The danger of an explosion under his feet, by 
 the reckless or malicious gossip of his addle-pated 
 relative was gone. Every day during the whole of 
 his term this possible result had been present with 
 him had been a source of constant discomfort and 
 seriously impaired his satisfaction in his office. 
 
 His suspicion of Perceval's knowledge, which Per- 
 ceval's daring confession, the night before, changed 
 into a certainty, had, in the disposal of his uncomfort- 
 able relative, much perplexed him. But a wiser and 
 higher power than his had taken the matter out of his 
 hands, and he could now truly enjoy the fruits of his 
 long struggle and toil. Surely there was a providence 
 in human affairs after all. " It 's a very unusual way 
 of communicating news of that nature," he said after 
 a moment's reflection. " The instinct for discovering 
 dead men's shoes is the result of generations of train- 
 ing by our institutions. It is a distinct species of 
 retriever. Though, I think," he added after another 
 moment of thought, "we will wait and see if they 
 have not been misled in this case. It is not often 
 they get upon the wrong scent, but it is possible." 
 
 The keen night wind, which had suddenly arisen, 
 struck the perspiring Perceval with a chill that, by as 
 rapid walking as his portliness permitted, he tried to 
 shake off. But in spite of his efforts his teeth chat- 
 tered, as he took Brewster's advice and got quickly to 
 bed.
 
 A FATAL ILLNESS. 211 
 
 He bad been asleep two or three hours, when he 
 awoke with sensations of burning and suffocation. 
 His heart was pumping the hot blood at the rate of 
 over a hundred strokes the minute. From head to 
 foot he was on fire with fever. He felt that his last 
 hour, of which all his life he had lived in mortal 
 dread, had indeed come like a thief in the night. 
 He was surprised at the amount of strength still left 
 him, as, with swimming head and tottering limbs, he 
 touched the electric knob that rang the office gong. 
 He had to repeat the summons thrice before the 
 waiter appeared, getting a chill each time that he 
 
 " Come in!" he cried, in answer to the knock; but 
 the door was locked, and he dared not rise again. 
 Luckily the transom was open, and he shouted at the 
 top of his voice: 
 
 "Is that you, Tom?" 
 
 Yes,sah!" 
 
 "For God's sake, Tom, get a doctor 'here at once! 
 I'm dying, Tom. Tell him to come quick or it will 
 be too late!" 
 
 The frightened servant, anxious to divide the re- 
 sponsibility of so critical a case with some one more 
 capable of dealing with it, bethought him of Mr. 
 Bunkery, whose room was on an adjoining hall. 
 Knocking loudly on that statesman's door and waking 
 him from his dreams at the very climax in the deliv- 
 ery of his inaugural message, he called out: 
 
 "Fo' de Lawd, Mas' Bunkery, Mas' Perceval be a 
 dyin' fd> suah."
 
 212 A FAMOUS- VICTORY. 
 
 "Dying? nonsense!" said Bunkery; "who told 
 you so?" 
 
 " Mas' Perceval done tole me hisself; lie wants de 
 doctah." 
 
 "Why in don't you get him one, then?" 
 
 " I tort maybe you 'd like to see dat he did n't breve 
 his las' breff, while I was gwine fo' de doctah." 
 
 "I'll go see him," said Bunkery, stumbling gradu 
 ally into a few of his most accessible garments. By 
 that time he was vjide awake, and stood tapping at 
 Perceval's door. 
 
 The latter, who, as his fever went raging through 
 him, was growing worse and more excited, and filled 
 with dread reluctance of moving, arose and unlocked 
 the door. 
 
 " I hear you are sick," said Bunkery. 
 
 "Very sick! desperately sick ! Why doesn't the doc- 
 tor come? Every inch- of me is a fire. I 'in undergo- 
 ing cremation before death. My pulse beats like a- 
 trip-hammer. ' I don't feel 's if 1 'd got fifteen minutes 
 to live." 
 
 Bunkery felt of his pulse and was a good deal 
 alarmed at the heat and at the rapid blows of the surg- 
 ing blood on the vein of the wrist. 
 
 " Yes, you 're pretty sick," said he, " but the doc- 
 tor '11 be here soon, and then we '11 see what he says." 
 
 " O, he can 't do any good, I'm afraid," said the 
 sick man; "I am too ill for that; I am dying; I know 
 I am. I've read all about it, and it's just the way 
 people go off of a sudden." 
 
 Bunkery's knowledge of disease was not accurate
 
 A FATAL ILLNESS. 213 
 
 enough to warrant his denying Perceval's positive 
 opinion, and he was almost frightened by his earnest- 
 ness into believing all he said about it. 
 
 "Anything I can do for you?" he asked solemnly; 
 " any last words or wishes?" 
 
 Perceval was so impressed with Bunkery's confirm- 
 ation of his fears that he did not speak immediately, 
 but finally replied: 
 
 " I 've led a prett}^ bad life and I ain't fit to die. 
 I 've been a very wicked fellow in my time, and there 
 are some things I ought to say which ought not to die 
 with me." 
 
 " I s'pose a man likes to make a clean breast of it, 
 when he gets into this fix." said Bunkery, chiefly be- 
 ca*use he did not know what else to say. 
 
 'I 'd live a better life if I were to do it over again. 
 I 'd like to live and try it. O, I don't want to die. I 
 can 't die," he panted. 
 
 He rolled and tossed in the bed, frightening Bunk- 
 ery, and making him wish that the doctor would come 
 as much on his own account as on Perceval's. 
 
 "Do you think there's any chance?" asked Per- 
 ceval, vehemently. 
 
 " Seems to me you 're pretty sick," said Bunkery, 
 trying vainly to think of something consolatory, "but 
 I don't know anything about it, and perhaps I am 
 mistaken;" a form of confession unusual with Bunkery. 
 
 And still the fever raged until, at times, it seemed 
 to Perceval as if the very force of the throbs would 
 lift the top of his head off. He gasped and begged for 
 water and every moment grew more alarmed at the 
 tremendous pounding in his chest.
 
 214 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " There 's something I s 'pose I ought to say about 
 Brews ter's affairs before I die." 
 
 "Ah!" said Bunkery, all attention. 
 
 " Tes, I 'm knowing to a good deal of what 's been 
 going on. I s'pose I should die easier if I were to get 
 that off my mind." 
 
 " No doubt of it," said Bunkery, " a man in your 
 state ought to feel the solemnity of his duty." 
 
 "Tes," said Perceval, convinced by Bunkery's 
 manner that his case was critical, and influenced by 
 his ruling passion to disburden himself of the secret he 
 had painfully kept hidden so long, "Yes, I '11 tell you." 
 
 And with many starts, and frights, and gaspings, 
 he proceeded with his story until the doctor came in. 
 
 The latter went through the ritual common to such 
 cases, prescribing treatment and remedies. Bunkery 
 followed him into the hall, asking: 
 . "Is he very sick?" 
 
 " Pretty sick eaten too much, caught cold." 
 
 " In any danger?" 
 
 " Not in the least, unless he 's imprudent." 
 
 " No danger of dying?" 
 
 " Not a bit of it. There '11 be a change before morn- 
 ing. He'll be all right in a day or two," said the 
 doctor smiling and departing. 
 
 Bunkery lingered in thought a moment, then, sum- 
 moning the confidential clerk of his committee to 
 come to Perceval's room, he returned there himself. 
 
 " What does the doctor really think," asked Per- 
 ceval eagerly. 
 
 Bunkery shook his head ominously, which plunged 
 Perceval into another spasm of fright.
 
 A FATAL ILLNESS. 215 
 
 "I knew it! I knew it!" exclaimed the patient. 
 " Nobody can be as sick as I am and get well. How 
 long how long did he think I could live?" he asked 
 with some hesitation, as if he hardly dared face the 
 answer. 
 
 "He said you'd live till morning," replied Bun- 
 kery. 
 
 " So soon! So soon!" cried Perceval. " I 'd like to 
 see Brewster; he 's the only relative I 've got here." 
 
 " All right," said Bunkery, " I '11 drop him a 
 note." 
 
 So saying, he sat down to the table and wrote a 
 brief note to the President, telling him Perceval was 
 taken suddenly ill and wanted to see him, but it was 
 a sick man's whim and he would be all right in the 
 morning, so he need not trouble himself to come. He 
 thrust the note into his pocket, where he found it 
 about a week afterward. The note completed, he con-, 
 tinued writing, and brought to Perceval a page which 
 he read over to him. 
 
 "What are you going to do with it?" asked Perce- 
 val in an assumed feeble voice, for he was already 
 feeling some relief. 
 
 " O, it 's well to have it in a shape to use. You 
 want to sign your name to it in presence of a witness. 
 I've made an affidavit of it. Here's my clerk; lie's 
 a notary public;" and, before Perceval fairly realized 
 it, he had affixed his name to the paper. 
 
 "Perhaps you '11 be better in the morning," said 
 Bunkery, taking his departure. 
 
 Gradually comprehending what he had done, Per-
 
 216 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 ceval was terribly excited by the thought of the possi- 
 ble use which might be made of the paper and the 
 probable consequences to himself of Brewster's wrath. 
 But, luckily, this threw him into a perspiration, 
 and wrought so favorable a turn in his attack, that he 
 soon afterward dropped off to sleep, to wake so much 
 better that the second day he was on his feet again. 
 Leaving his credentials as minister to Honolulu to be 
 sent after him, he lost no time in getting away from 
 the capital.
 
 AN INTERESTING DISPATCH. 217 
 
 CHAPTEK XXII. 
 
 AN INTERESTING DISPATCH. 
 
 IT was just a week after Perceval's repentance, and 
 past ten o'clock at night, that President Brewster sat 
 writing with customary vigor and industry. The door 
 noiselessly opened and the signs of disturbance in the 
 usually disciplined face and well modulated voice of 
 Danforth, his private secretary, at once attracted his 
 attention. 
 
 " What is it, Lawrence? " asked he. 
 
 " It is all out," said Lawrence in a low and serious 
 tone, " it will be in the papers to-morrow." 
 
 " There must be something in the papers every day," 
 said Brewster, with the nonchalant air he always as- 
 sumed when much disturbed." 
 
 " It 's gone all to pieces," said Lawrence. '' The 
 Judiciary Committee are in possession of the story." 
 
 Straightening himself in his chair, Brewster said 
 calmly : 
 
 " Tell me about it." 
 
 " I. ran up stairs at the telegraph office this evening 
 to see Shaw an old chum of mine, we were operators 
 together at Cleveland and I heard them rattling off 
 a dispatch to the ' K Y. Planet.' While talking with 
 Shaw I quietly took off the dispatch."
 
 218 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 Lawrence, producing a scrap of short-hand manu- 
 script, proceeded to read to Brewster what purported 
 to be the substance of information that Mr. Bunkery 
 had laid before the committee. It was Perceval's af- 
 fidavit that, having gone to write a note at Lawrence's 
 table behind the screen in Brewster's office the night 
 the cipher dispatch was received, he suddenly found 
 himself overhearing portions of a conversation be- 
 tween Brewster and Danforth. The affidavit also re- 
 peated all of this conversation he was able to hear or 
 remember; but Mr. Bunkery, for the time being, with- 
 held this part of the evidence. Lawrence then recited 
 the remainder of the "Planet" dispatch, as follows: 
 
 " After presenting his documents, Mr. Bunkery fa- 
 vored immediate action. The President, he under- 
 stood, was about betraying his party, by defeating its 
 great national measure. He ' had gone over to the 
 other side.' ' He '11 make yon a Fourth of July oration 
 on the first of January, if there 's anything to be made 
 out of it,' said Mr. Bunkery. 
 
 "'Won't it hurt the party?' said a cautious mem- 
 ber from New York. 
 
 " ' It can 't hurt the party worse than he 's hurting 
 it,' said Mr. Bunkery, ' I 've been trying this six 
 months to get my man into the pension bureau, but 
 Brewster won't budge. Then there 's the postmaster 
 at Injannerville he 's sold out to Byles, and I 've 
 been going for him; but you 'd think he 'd been driven 
 in with a pile-driver. The party -in Injanner 's all 
 broken up with this fooling. I don't believe you could 
 carry a single district to-day ! J
 
 AN INTERESTING DISPATCH. 219 
 
 " Other members present had some complaint of 
 this sort to make, and it was agreed that so far from 
 hurting the party, it will ' brace it up.' One member, 
 just^appointed by the governor from the seventh Wis- 
 consin district, in place of Darth, deceased, and who 
 is only an amateur politician, innocently inquired: 
 
 " ' How will it affect the country especially busi- 
 ness?' 
 
 " Some members frowned, others smiled, at this ab- 
 surd speech, and Mr. Bunkery objected to going off on 
 to side issues. 'Let us stick to the main question,' 
 said he; so, after an agreement that the proceedings 
 should for the present be kept secret, the committee 
 adjourned." 
 
 Lawrence, having* finished his notes, looked up in- 
 quiringly at President Brewster. Drawing a long 
 breath, indicative of the interest he had taken in the 
 account, the latter replied, almost carelessly: 
 
 "JMighty interesting reading that! Enterprising 
 paper the ' Planet.' I wonder how much of it is 
 true." 
 
 " It comes pretty straight," replied Danforth. " I 
 stopped at Newspaper Row and saw Sidney. I told 
 him frankly I knew all about his dispatch to the ' Plan- 
 et,' and wanted him' to tell me if it was authentic. At 
 first he was not inclined to say anything; but he 's in- 
 debted to me for a good many favors, and he finally 
 admitted .that he had obtained his information directly 
 from a member of the committee, but declined saying 
 which one. ' It was a secret session, you understand,' 
 said he, and laughed.
 
 220 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " I 've been afraid it would come to this some time," 
 added Lawrence, after a pause. " He ought to have 
 been sent out of the country." 
 
 " I could not get him out of the country," replied 
 Brewster; "and by giving him a good position, for 
 which I 've been abused and ridiculed, I tried to make 
 it for his interest to keep his dreams and vagaries to 
 himself. As it was, I had to threaten him before he 
 would consent to put the ocean between us. Then he 
 was taken ill, and, I presume, frightened into this wild 
 talk. Sooner or later, it would have happened. Fools 
 of his sort are like a bad piece of plumbing, that is 
 sure to leak when the pressure is great enough. I have 
 done my best to prevent the pressure, but in this in- 
 stance, as luck would have it, it got beyond my con- 
 trol." 
 
 " I took Owen, the Associated Press man, to Bunk- 
 ery," continued Lawrence, " and told Bunkery there 
 were rumors of his having instigated the Judiciary 
 Committee to considering the propriety of investigat- 
 ing the President. Bunkery put on his superbest airs 
 and gave an extra toss to his hair and said it was 
 idle gossip; the committee had taken no action. 
 Thereupon Owen sent a dispatch denying the rumors. 
 I thought this would break the force of Sidney's dis- 
 patch and give us time to breathe." 
 
 "Quite right! quite right!" said Brewster warmly, 
 adding, " I feel more thankful than surprised, for I 
 always have a large confidence in your doing the 
 right thing at the right time, Lawrence." 
 
 Flushed with this praise and with a mixture of the
 
 AN INTERESTING DISPATCH. 
 
 admiration and gratitude he always had for Brewster, 
 the young secretary bade him good night. He had to 
 admit to himself that the prospect looked somewhat 
 dismal, but his faith in his chief's wits and resources 
 was almost fanatical, and he trusted that they would 
 be found equal to rescuing their proprietor from all 
 embarrassments. 
 
 Brewster did not return to his work, but sat medi- 
 tating for more than half an hour. Then he thrust 
 the sheets of his manuscript into his portfolio, and, 
 after writing and addressing a note, retired to his bed- 
 room. In spite of his apparent calmness he had 
 scarcely ever been so agitated, and he heard the 
 matins of the birds before he closed his eyes. 
 
 Of physical fear he knew little. Battles, mobs, as- 
 sassins, riots were only tempest and lightning very 
 disagreeable, but rarely harmful. But to be without 
 a party majority, to be abandoned of partisans, was to 
 be weak and miserable indeed. Having learned to 
 swim with the corks and life-preservers of success, he 
 was appalled at finding himself wallowing without 
 them in a soundless sea. Whatever the legal "weight 
 of the case and evidence against him, the vote of 
 guilty would probably command the party strength, 
 with enough votes from the other side, to depose him. 
 Once upon a time three senators dared to vote in 
 deference to the law and the testimony, and were de- 
 nounced as worse "traitors" than the President they 
 refused to remove. By loudly joining in the outcry 
 against them, Brewster had helped educate the people 
 down to this doctrine, and now, like Robespierre,
 
 222 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 faced the guillotine that had shed the blood of his 
 victims. Before he went to sleep, however, he had 
 determined upon his plan of action.
 
 A MERE NEWSPAPER SENSATION. 223 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A MERE NEWSPAPER SENSATION. 
 
 CONGRESSMAN BUNKEKY was not a little surprised 
 next morning at receiving a request to call on the 
 President at his earliest convenience. Like many an- 
 other politician he disliked coming to close quarters 
 with Brewster, who had an ugly way of carrying on a 
 personal conflict. The President bade him be seated, 
 and without preliminaries said: 
 
 " I see by the paper that your name is prominent- 
 ly associated with a scheme of investigation," based 
 chiefly on the report that I intended vetoing your bill, 
 and on a cock-and-bull story imposed on you by a man 
 in such a condition of mind and body as to be wholly 
 unaccountable." 
 
 Bunkery fidgeted, and said the rumor had been de- 
 nied. 
 
 " O, of course," said Brewster. " I knew it was 
 only a newspaper 'sensation, gotten up by fellows 
 whose pay depends on their furnishing their employ- 
 ers with saleable wares. The leader of the House of 
 Representatives would not, of course, take any steps of 
 the kind, without ascertaining the truth of such ru- 
 mors. There is my answer to them!"
 
 224 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 To Bunkery's astonishment the President showed 
 him his currency bill with the presidential signature 
 attached. 
 
 " I 'm very glad to see it," stammered Bunkery, " I 
 had heard the rumors, but did not credit them.'" 
 
 "That is false! "said Brewster to himself, adding 
 aloud: " As to personal matters, I am the most oblig- 
 ing of men. I hear you 're not satisfied with ap- 
 pointments in the Pension Bureau; it is only a mis- 
 understanding. There is no reason in the world why 
 satisfactory arrangements shouldn't be made. A 
 larger force is required, and anything wanted by our 
 people in Congress needs only to be spoken of, and 
 it is at their service. Perceval is not always responsi- 
 .ble for what he says, and besides, I have, as 3^011 know, 
 already removed him. I '11 put your man Cranage 
 that is the name I think in his place at the head of 
 the Bureau. He is competent, is he not? " 
 
 " O yes," said Bunkery, " he 's one of our best 
 workers." 
 
 " Failed in business two or three times, I under- 
 stand," said Brewster sympathetically. 
 
 " Yes," said Bunkery, " and the last was a very bad 
 one. He 's been very unfortunate and deserves a great 
 deal of sympathy and help. I do n't know of any- 
 body more deserving of a good snug berth than Cran- 
 age." 
 
 "Some squeamish people might object to such 
 claims for so responsible a position," said Brewster, 
 " but in great national emergencies you cannot con- 
 sult old maids' whims."
 
 A MERE NEWSPAPER SENSATION. 225 
 
 " Certainly not," said the Congressman, emphati- 
 cally. 
 
 " There is your man Aiken, in whom I hear you take 
 a great deal of interest. I suppose you'd consent to 
 having him advanced? though they tell a story about 
 him very likely it is not true, but it ought to be 
 looked into. They say he first appeared some time 
 after his appointment and asked the way to the Pension 
 Bureau. lie said he had come to draw his pay. You 
 had better speak to him, I think, and have him attend 
 to business. People have prejudices about such mat- 
 ters, and we must consult them." 
 
 " He 's not a man to be spoken to," said Bunkery. 
 "He can chip the shell off the end of an egg with a 
 pistol-ball ! He says he 's open to persuasion and* con- 
 ciliation, but you can 't coerce him a d cent's 
 
 worth! However, I '11 do my best! " 
 
 "Do so! As to the postmastership in Injanner- 
 ville, we '11 arrange that to suit you. If there is any- 
 thing else that can be done to accommodate you or 
 our friends in the Senate or House, let them know and 
 let me know." 
 
 "Thank you!" said Congressman Bunkery, "I 
 shall be very happy to give these assurances to our 
 friends. There 's nothing our people so much desire 
 as a restoration of harmony within the party. They 
 were feeling deeply grieved at even the mere rumor 
 of a collision with the administration." 
 
 " I should have been very sorry," said Brewster. 
 "Tell them to be more cautious about trusting ru- 
 mors, but come to headquarters, as you did, and find 
 15
 
 226 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 out for themselves! I suppose you will have to yield 
 to popular clamor and set up an investigation." 
 
 " It has gone so far now," said Bunkery, " I sup- 
 pose we must." 
 
 " Well," said Brewster, solemnly, " be sure you let 
 no guilty man escape!" 
 
 With difficulty Bunkery refrained from smiling, but 
 as Brewster never had the bad taste to laugh at his 
 own jokes, the congressman was forced to respect the 
 perfect gravity with which these time-honored words 
 were repeated. 
 
 They bade each other good-day, and after the con- 
 gressman had retired, Brewster, taking several pages 
 of manuscript from his portfolio and reading them 
 with apparent interest, threw them into the fire, say- 
 ing, with a sigh, " There goes one of the most effect- 
 ive pieces of work I ever turned out." 
 
 On further reflection, Bunkery saw and was eager 
 to undo his error in making public his interesting 
 budget, instead of coming to direct terms with the 
 President first. 
 
 The " Injanner " legislature was on the eve of a ses- 
 sion, at which a United States senator was to be chosen, 
 and, in order to win that prize, he was desperate to secure 
 every advantage and employ every resource. Cran- 
 age's influence was of supreme importance, and Cran- 
 age's influence could be had only by giving Cranage 
 an office; and Cranage's office hung upon Bunkery 's 
 success in checking the proposed investigation which, 
 in a moment of haste, he had set going. He, there- 
 fore, girded himself to the task of countermining his 
 own mine and circumventing his own strategy.
 
 DETECTING THE GUILTY. 227 
 
 CHAPTER XXIY. 
 
 DETECTING THE GUILTY. 
 
 UPON the strength of the hints which Bunkery had 
 thrown out, and which were published in the " New 
 York Planet," the celebrated Bunkery committee for 
 the investigation of " the Idaho fraud," was duly ap- 
 pointed and began its sessions. 
 
 To the surprise of everybody, Bnnkery's burning 
 zeal had cooled like hot sealing-wax. He not only re- 
 fused to offer his own evidence, but he afforded nobody 
 else an opportunity of offering any. The conjectures 
 as to this change in his mood failed to explain it, and 
 the whole investigation seemed on the point of break- 
 ing down, when suddenly Mr. Rodney the postscript 
 to whose letter, as we remember, once beguiled Brew- 
 ster sadly, and who represented the minority of the 
 committee requested that Mr. Leonard Carroll be 
 summoned as a witness. 
 
 " He 's in Europe, and it will cost too much," ob- 
 jected Mr. Bunkery. " What is the nature of his tes- 
 timony?" 
 
 " Call him and see ! " said Rodney. " He is in New 
 York. I will give you his address." 
 
 Much against his will Bunkery complied; and Car-
 
 228 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 roll appeared, flushed with health and balmy in de- 
 portment. Without preface, he began his testimony: 
 " On my arrival in New York, about a month ago," 
 said he, " I read a dispatch from this city which pre- 
 tended to hint at some revelations made by Mr. Augus- 
 tus Perceval in regard to certain important informa- 
 tion of which he claimed to be possessed, and which, 
 it was said, had been laid before the judiciary commit- 
 tee. I was at once reminded of a letter which, on 
 reaching this side a few clays before, I had found in 
 my trunk. It is addressed," he said, taking it out of 
 his pocket, " to one 'James Ashton,' and has on it the 
 imprint of the United States Consulate at London." 
 Then, handing it to Mr. Bunkery, he continued: 
 " The seal is still unbroken. I know nothing of its 
 contents, but I have reason to believe they are of great 
 interest and importance. The letter came accidentally 
 into my possession, though by what exact means I 
 can only conjecture. All I know about it can be briefly 
 told. About four months ago, as I was stepping 
 into my banker's in London Rosefield, Barton and 
 Company, No. 10 Bartholomew Lane, opposite the 
 Bank of England I met an Englishman coming out. 
 He was dressed in a baggy Tweed suit, had side- 
 whiskers, hair parted in the middle, and an eye-glass 
 screwed into his eye. His face seemed dimly famil- 
 iar, and, in answer to my inquiries, Mr. Rosefield said 
 he lived in Sussex; that Mr. Starkey, United States 
 consul-general formerly a confidential clerk of Pres- 
 ident Brewster had introduced him. There had been 
 a matter of several thousand pounds between the two
 
 DETECTING THE GUILTY. 229 
 
 in a Liverpool grain speculation, said Mr. Rosefield. 
 On their first visit to the bank, young Rosefield, the 
 cashier, happened to encounter them on the stairs, just 
 as Ashton was saying, ' The longest way 'round is the 
 shortest way home; for my part I like the San Fran- 
 cisco route best.' Then they both laughed, while Star- 
 key replied, 'An Englishman always gets badly mixed 
 on American geography;' at which they laughed 
 again. 
 
 "The next day," continued Carroll, "I called upon 
 Mr. Starkey at the American Consulate, and after a 
 few common-places, said suddenly: 
 
 " ' By the way, I met a friend of yours the other 
 day.' 
 
 " ' Ah! ' answered Mr. Starkey. 
 
 " ' Yes, Ashton.' 
 
 " 'Ashton, Ashton! ' said Starkey, ruminating. ' I 
 may have a bowing and scraping acquaintance with 
 some one of that name. Where did you meet him? ' 
 inquired Mr. Starkey. 
 
 '"At Rosefield's bank,' said I; ' I'm sorry to hear 
 you lost heavily in your grain speculation. It is like 
 all gambling. Better keep out of it.' 
 
 " Mr. Starkey turned slightly away, then, yawning, 
 rose and backed up in front of the fire. ' My uncle in 
 Kew York is a grain shipper,' he said, languidly. ' I 
 did some routine business with one or two of his cus- 
 tomers for him soon after I came over. But that was 
 three years ago, and I have forgotten their names. 
 United States consuls are forbidden by law to transact 
 business, you know.'
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " I left him," Carroll went on, " wondering what it 
 all meant. The familiarity of the Englishman's face 
 haunted me. I could not give up thinking about it 
 and trying to identify it. Suddenly I thought I had 
 recalled it, and cabled to New York for an illustrated 
 paper of a particular date, which I subsequently re- 
 ceived. Some time elapsed before I met Ashton again, 
 and the meeting occurred at the bank. Mr. Eosefieid 
 introduced us, saying to me, ' The gentleman you 
 were speaking of.' 
 
 "Ashton started a little at this, but, recovering 
 himself, sat down to write. Taking a chair near him, 
 I made a close study of his face. I noticed particu- 
 larly that the bluish tinge. of a closely shaven beard 
 ran high upon his cheek-bones, denoting a very heavy 
 growth of whiskers. Then taking from my pocket 
 the copy of the illustrated paper, I laid it down in 
 front of Ashton just as he was signing a check. On 
 the page in front of him he saw a cabinet-sized wood- 
 cut portrait of a man with short-cropped or ' sand- 
 papered ' hair, and a long, heavy black beard. Under- 
 neath the portrait were these words : ' "Wendell Hawkins, 
 the man who made Aaron B. Brewster President of 
 the United States.' Begging his pardon, I said that 
 I thought there was a curious resemblance be- 
 tween him and the portrait. Ashton, picking it up, 
 read the descriptive text accompanying the picture, 
 and tossed it over to Kosefield, asking if he saw any 
 likeness; for his part he couldn't. Then he had his 
 check cashed and went away; whereupon I asked to 
 see the check. Ashton's signature looked like that of
 
 DETECTING THE GUILTY. 231 
 
 ' Stephen Hopkins,' the palsied signer of the Declar- 
 ation of Independence. I showed it to Rosefield, who 
 said: 'The dickens! he must be getting shaky.' 
 Next morning Mr. Eosefield told me that Ashton had 
 taken out a heavy letter of credit, and probably in- 
 tended traveling on the continent. 
 
 " This," continued Carroll, " is all I know of James 
 Ashton. My surmise is that this letter contains 1 ' 
 
 Here Bunkery objected and the committee voted, 
 five to four, not to listen to the surmises of the wit- 
 ness; but allowed him to state his conjecture as to the 
 way the letter came into his possession. 
 
 "The post -mark is dated the day of my call 
 upon the consul-general, Mr. Starkey," said Carroll, 
 " and if, Ashton, were Hawkins, as I believe him to 
 be, he would immediately have disappeared, as he did, 
 on discovering my curiosity about him. I presume that 
 through an oversight at the bank, the note was put 
 with some letters of introduction which were consign- 
 ed to my care and which I placed in my trunk with- 
 out looking at them, until I took them out again on 
 this side of the Atlantic." 
 
 The minority of the committee called for the open- 
 ing of the letter which Carroll had delivered up. 
 Bunkery and the majority opposed it as a violation of 
 the freedom of correspondence, and the subject was 
 finally referred to the House of Representatives for 
 instructions. 
 
 Then ensued a fierce debate, in which Bunkery took 
 aloud and leading part. He opposed violating the 
 sacredness of correspondence. James Ashton, he
 
 232 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 said, was undoubtedly an Englishman, and the act 
 would lead to grave international difficulties. 
 
 At one time Bunkery would roar defiance; at an- 
 other, as gently as the sucking dove, or at least, what 
 passed for that. He was perpetually alert and vigorous 
 in his effort to block the proceedings and bring the 
 whole affair to a close. 
 
 During the debate, he was frequently taunted with 
 his inconsistency, but he replied that no sneers would 
 hinder his doing justice or opposing injustice. He 
 was now convinced that he had been deceived; in any 
 event, he would not, even to gain a righteous end, be 
 guilty of employing disreputable means like the break- 
 ing open of a letter. 
 
 But one day, after a prolonged conference with Dan- 
 forth, his tone suddenly changed, and he proposed as 
 an amendment to the resolution before the house, 
 that the minority should, under protest, and pro- 
 vided they would take the whole responsibility, be al- 
 lowed to open the letter. He said that the high of- 
 ficial whose honor and integrity were supposed to be 
 involved in the contents of the letter had requested 
 that his friends should not oppose this suggestion. He 
 was so conscious of his entire innocence, and so con- 
 fident that no conspiracy or combination of circum- 
 stances could possibly compromise him, that he chal- 
 lenged his enemies to bring any evidence in the letter 
 to light. 
 
 Thereupon, without further delay, the resolution was 
 passed and, after three weeks of intermission, the 
 Bunkery committee resumed its sessions.
 
 DETECTING THE GUILTY. 233 
 
 It was an exciting moment when the now famous 
 letter was placed in Mr. Rodney's hands. 
 
 The tearing of the envelope and the rustling of the 
 contents could be heard in every part of the crowded 
 room. The members of the committee, the reporters, 
 and the spectators bent eagerly forward, watching each 
 movement in the process. 
 
 Mr. Rodney unfolded the letter: gazed at it; looked 
 bewildered; turned it over; looked at the back and 
 then at the inside again. 
 
 It was a Uaiik sheet of paper. 
 
 The majority of the committee laughed. Some of 
 the spectators cheered, one of them in a paroxysm 
 of triumph throwing his hat to the ceiling. 
 
 "The chairman of the committee has had this let- 
 ter in his possession three weeks, " said Rodney, " and 
 this trick might have been played in three minutes. " 
 But Mr. Bunkery, who seemed as much astonished as 
 anybody at the turn which the affair had taken, arose 
 greatly excited and resented the imputation. "The 
 probabilities are," he said, " that the gentleman on 
 the other side have manufactured the alleged paper out 
 of whole cloth." 
 
 " Paper is made out of rags not of whole cloth," 
 said Rodney jocosely. 
 
 " I am in no mood for joking, sir," said Mr. Bunk- 
 ery in the full volume of his bass-tones. 
 
 " Nor am I," replied Rodney, " at least for practi- 
 cal jokes like this." 
 
 Then suddenly he lit the gas and held the paper in 
 front of the flame.
 
 234 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 Not a mark appeared upon its virgin surface. 
 
 " No sympathetic ink there!" laughed Bunker y, at 
 which the spectators cheered again. 
 
 "The blank paper may have had all the significance 
 of a written one," said Rodney. " It may have been 
 a pre-arranged signal and full of meaning." 
 
 " There is room for a thousand conjectures, but no 
 proof," said Bnnkery, who maintained that as a fun- 
 damental axiom of government a politician should 
 never be suspected, unless the proof against him were 
 adequate to his conviction of the crime of murder, be- 
 fore a jury ; or unless he belonged to the other party. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence Danforth was the next witness. 
 
 He testified that, his health being greatly broken 
 by the labors of the summer, he w r ent to Idaho after 
 the election, for rest and a change of air. After 
 a long and harassing examination, and, in spite of his 
 adroitness and quickness of wit, Lawrence had to ad- 
 mit that, while there, he made the acquaintance of 
 Wendell Hawkins, and that he found him not in sym- 
 pathy with the doctrines of the party which elected him. 
 He therefore suggested to Hawkins the propriety of 
 his voting in accordance with his convictions. 
 
 "Did you offer him any pecuniary inducement?" 
 asked Rodney". 
 
 " I might have said it would be for his advantage." 
 
 " What did you mean by that? " 
 
 "At this distance of time I cannot tell exactly." 
 
 "Did you offer him $50,000 or any other sum?" 
 
 " I may have mentioned such a sum." 
 
 "Did you expect to pay it out of your own pocket?"
 
 DETECTING THE GUILTY. 235 
 
 "No. If I offered him any money at all I 
 Lad no idea where it was to come from." 
 
 "You trusted in Providence, or in Elijah's ravens, 
 or to your finding it along the road, or under a tree," 
 blandly suggested Mr. Kodney. 
 
 Here Mr. Bunkery objected to anybody's insulting a 
 witness merely because he had it in his power to do so; 
 it was unmanly. 
 
 " Did President Brewster know anything of your 
 sublime and child-like faith in the fairies, or Aladdin's 
 wonderful lamp?" asked Kodney, heedless of Bimk- 
 ery's interruption. 
 
 " I do not understand your oriental metaphors," said 
 Lawrence. 
 
 " Then I '11 try the western dialect. Did President 
 Brewster know of your hint to Hawkins that, by cast- 
 ing his vote for Brewster, he would strike ' pay dirt ' 
 as soon as he had staked out his claim?" 
 
 "No," said Lawrence, emphatically. "Never! If 
 I had dared mention it, he -would have dismissed me 
 in disgrace from his service." 
 
 " Do you suppose when he sees your present testi- 
 mony he will dismiss you from his service ?" 
 
 Again Mr. Bunkery interposed. It was an improper 
 question, and the committee by a vote of five to four 
 declined to have the question answered, and Danforth 
 retired. * 
 
 Mr. Eodney had previously requested that Augus- 
 tus Perceval be summoned, but the committee by a 
 vote of five to four decided that his affidavit forwarded 
 from San Francisco would be sufficient, and the docu- 
 ment was accordingly read by Bunkery.
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 Perceval averred that, whereas, he had been quoted 
 as having, on a certain occasion, made statements in- 
 volving the integrity and honor of the President, he 
 now affirmed that to the best of his present knowledge 
 and belief his statements were untrue; that he was 
 the victim of hallucinations due to great mental ex- 
 citement which was caused by a sudden and severe ill- 
 ness; that his mind was wandering and he had nc 
 recollection of the preposterous assertions accredited 
 to him. 
 
 At this Rodney and his friends laughed ; whereupon 
 Bunkery solemnly observed that only a deplorable 
 lack of sensibility, he was going to say of common 
 humanity, would find sport or mirth in the saddest 
 calamity which could befall the human mind; and at 
 this, Rodney and his " gang," as Bunkery in his anger 
 called them, laughed again. 
 
 Brewster confided his own belief in his innocence 
 to young Sidney, the correspondent of " The Planet," 
 who " interviewed him for the purpose. " If he ever 
 did give anybody fifty thousand dollars, he made it 
 plain in this interview, that he could deny as well as 
 give. For he denied the whole of it. 
 
 He knew nothing of any schemes of the sort. Those 
 engaged in them knew better than to approach him. 
 His indignant refusal to sanction fraud by buying the 
 State offered him a few days after the election, proved 
 the kind of welcome he would have given to any cor- 
 rupt proposal. 
 
 But even if the charge were true, he said, the public 
 sensitiveness in regard to it was amusing. One would
 
 DETECTING THE GUILTY. 237 
 
 imagine that public offices in this country had never 
 been bartered before; that the practice of paying a 
 man for putting you in this office, by putting him in 
 that one, was a complete novelty. Even if the charge 
 were true, what had he done? Instead of rewarding 
 Hawkins, at the expense of the public, with the salary 
 of a foreign mission worth twelve or fifteen thousand 
 dollars a year, he had merely paid that sum to him out 
 of his own pocket; and these people, now so indignant at 
 this offense, would have submitted without a murmur to 
 the other scandal. Why set up such moonshine distinc- 
 tions between paying cash out of your own pocket, 
 and paying it out of the public treasury? He hated 
 these fine-spun" moralists and detested their hypocrisy. 
 
 " It was defense enough," he said, " merely to call 
 attention to the ' record ' of some of those loudest in 
 this crusade against him. Who were they ? Some of 
 them were men who, in the days of the country's 
 agony, either stood contemptuously aside refusing to 
 help her, or took up arms against her. Must a man 
 who stood by the flag in those dark days intrust his 
 reputation to rebels and rebel sympathizers? Are his 
 patriotism and loyality to count for nothing? When 
 men are being murdered for their political opinions 
 is it a time to divide party counsels, slander a public 
 functionary, and scandalize his administration in this 
 outrageous manner?" 
 
 "How shall we appear in the eyes of Europe?" he 
 continued. " What encouragement this will give to 
 the despotisms and monarchs of the old world ! What 
 a proclamation of our own disgrace to treat such foul
 
 238 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 accusations and such disloyal accusers with any seri- 
 ousness! If public servants are to be subjected to 
 persecutions like this, honorable men will no longer 
 seek office. He was alarmed at the rapid growth in 
 this country of a libelous and reviling spirit. One 
 would imagine the Government to be an absolute des- 
 potism tempered by slander. As for himself he was 
 safe from these shafts of malice. He was protected by 
 an armor of conscious innocence against these stings 
 of spite and hate. " 
 
 Bunkery's report, representing five of the commit- 
 tee, and by the other side briefly described as a " white- 
 washing document," also treated with due severity 
 the partisan malice which aspersed the purest charac- 
 ters. This upright executive was, at the worst, only 
 the victim of excessive zeal displayed in his behalf, etc. 
 
 The minority report, representing four of the com- 
 mittee, said that the proof of fraud was overwhelming 
 and the nation which permitted such a crime was past 
 saving, etc. 
 
 The public by this time took little interest in the 
 question. The next year was the year of the pres- 
 idential election and, both parties being engaged in 
 "skirmishing for position," these encounters were 
 looked upon as picket-firing, not battles. 
 
 "A licentious press," as Brewster called it, sug- 
 gested that Danforth's dismissal from the President's 
 service would adorn with at least one practical result 
 this absurd performance. 
 
 " After me is manners for him, " replied Brewster 
 sneeringly. "A curious notion of gratitude they
 
 DETECTING THE GUILTY. 239 
 
 must have ! Here is a young fellow who, with the idea 
 of doing me a service, exposed himself to an unpleas- 
 ant deluge from the windows of their garrets; and now 
 they insist that, instead of taking him in and drying 
 him, I shall close my doors to him and drive him away. 
 I learned, while I was in the army, to stand by my 
 soldiers when they were getting it hot and heavy; not 
 to ahandon them." And so, being "under fire,'' 
 Lawrence was allowed, if .not ordered, to stay ensconced 
 under the protection of the President. 
 
 Perceval, tired of exile, stayed in the Sandwich Is- 
 lands long enough to take the returning steamer, but 
 kept away from the capital until the investigation 
 had closed. On his arrival he joined the lobby, but 
 remained religiously at a distance from his distin- 
 guished relative " at the other end of the avenue." 
 
 Much to Mr. Bunkery's anxiety and disgust, he 
 heard rumors that the President had resolved to ap- 
 point to the place he had demanded for Cranage, a 
 thoroughly competent person. This unwillingness to 
 fulfill his bargain was confirmed by the dismissal of 
 " Colonel " Aiken on account of inefficiency and bad 
 habits. Bunkery, eager for the senatorship, fell into a 
 rage, the serious consequences whereof to one humble 
 person in this history may be worth relating.
 
 240 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXY. 
 
 A PROMISING ARTIST. 
 
 FKOM the day that Winifred Brewster called upon 
 her in Roxbury, Mrs. Cleland had kept her clerkship 
 in "Washington. She occupied a pretty cottage in the 
 suburbs, which in spite of the precariousness of her 
 position and income, she had been buying by install- 
 ments. 
 
 All sensible employers desire their employes to 
 thrust as many roots as possible into the soil; to hare 
 families dependent upon them and to be anchored to 
 the solid ground by its ownership in fee simple; for, 
 these are so many bonds and sureties of a steadfast 
 and trustworthy discharge of duty. 
 
 Except in its military and naval branches, the gov- 
 ernment of the United States is not a sensible em- 
 ployer. Over the heads of its employes it hangs a 
 sharp sword as by a single hair, which at any moment 
 may be cut by a fate which no fidelity or industry of 
 the employed can placate or withstand. For such is 
 the beneficence of J' the best government on which 
 the sun ever shone, " that the death or defeat of a pres- 
 ident, senator, or congressman, or a change in the popu- 
 lar sentiment, may be the signal for an undoing of the
 
 A PROMISING ARTIST. 241 
 
 fortunes of those in the Government service, akin to 
 that wrought by a plague or a famine. 
 
 Notwithstanding its imprudence, Mrs. Cleland had 
 been tempted into partaking of the fruit which, by an 
 unwritten law more potent than a statute, is forbidden 
 to the servants of the Government, and in which they 
 indulge at their peril. But prudence was overcome by 
 her love of natural beauty; by her feminine tenderness 
 for plants and flowers and their sweet dependence upon 
 us; by the charm of their growth, their perfume and 
 their color, with which they reward nurture and solici- 
 tude; more than all by her motherly and womanly 
 longing for a home. 
 
 Through Winifred's mediation, moreover, she had 
 been one of the few spared monuments of the tender 
 mercies shown by a victorious party when a " new 
 deal" calls for a " clean sweep." As the months went 
 by, leaving her, in spite of the clamors of a throng, 
 unmolested in her office, she had fallen into content 
 and comfort, intensified by her hopeful joy in her son's 
 artistic promise. For him she had already sacrificed 
 many of those adornments and gayeties which both 
 entice and befit pretty women, while her prospective 
 self-denials in order to send him, the coming winter, to 
 the Philadelphia art school were tinged only by her 
 sadness at their next week's parting. 
 
 " "Will my boy remember his mother now and then? " 
 she asked, laying down the winter's hat she was trim- 
 ming, one crisp sunny morning of late November. 
 Then reluctantly putting on her shawl, she stood 
 smoothing out his curly hair as he worked at his easel. 
 16
 
 242 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " How can J forget her?" he replied, looking up with 
 as much gratitude as his artist's interest in her face 
 would permit; for he was sketching it in his picture, 
 " how can I forget her when I owe my very absence 
 to her self-sacrifice;" then lie impatiently added, "It 
 makes me hot and desperate sometimes, thinking what 
 a helpless clod I am." 
 
 "No, no, dear boy, I'll not hear that; think of 
 what has been given, not of what has been denied you 
 the power to .create beauty, to touch men's hearts." 
 
 " I 'm glad to do that," he broke in, " but mere 
 smudging will quite as often touch their pockets, and 
 I would like to reach them at least by way of variety." 
 
 " You will, you will do both " she answered earn- 
 estly. " It 's irksome and slow, but it will come. Per- 
 fection is made up of little things perfectly done. Good- 
 bye, dear boy!" And, kissing him, she went out. 
 
 She passed along the streets with a satisfaction she 
 had rarely known since the brief happiness of her early 
 wedded life, and with a sense of the martyr's delight 
 women find in unreservedly offering themselves up for 
 those they love. In spite of toil and plain attire, in 
 spite of the ravages of a congh announcing the 
 scourge she had inherited, Adelaide was still comely. 
 The crisp air, her loving ambition, and the hectic tint 
 adorned her with a delicate color, which, with the re- 
 finement of her face, attracted a not unfrequent glance 
 as she walked almost gaily down the avenue. Nor was 
 it the first time she had been the object of looks and 
 remarks that, but for her loyalty to her husband's mem- 
 ory, and her absorption in her boy's career, might have 
 alarmed or imperiled her.
 
 A PROMISING ARTIST. 
 
 Her heart beat quickly as she caught sight of a 
 group staring into a broad-paned window in the mid- 
 dle of the next block. For the two days such groups 
 had already gathered there, she had thrilled and tor- 
 tured herself by stopping and listening to their talk. 
 As she came near this morning, she resolved to pass 
 on ; then, to stop, look, but close her ears to all com- 
 ments. She ended by joining them, eager to hear 
 every word in regard to the object which attracted their 
 attention. 
 
 It was an historical picture. An elderly man, long 
 and ungainly, lay half-stretched upon the grass, under 
 the trees which overshadowed the White House. He 
 was looking patiently through his spectacles at some 
 papers belonging to a wounded soldier, who, in shabby 
 blue overcoat and with an arm in a blood-stained 
 sling, sat near him, seeming to seek his aid in solving 
 the puzzle of his papers. The soft sunlight filtered 
 through the trees, flecking the grass, the papers, and 
 the garments. At a short distance, a lad, apparently 
 impatient with fche delay of the tall man in front, was 
 playing with a huge dog. Near by, and waiting for 
 an interview with the elderly man, were a stout, well- 
 known figure, in the uniform of a Major-general, and 
 the almost equally Tamous face and contour of the Sec- 
 retary of "War. 
 
 The drawing in the picture was undeniably bad. 
 The notorious awkwardness of the tall man on the 
 ground was exaggerated by the artist's unskillfulness; 
 the soldier was a little stiff, and the group in the back- 
 ground not well proportioned. Nevertheless there
 
 244 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 was life and power in it. It told its simple story; 
 it portrayed with directness and vigor the strongly- 
 marked and eminent forms and faces in it. In the 
 President's face was a look of gentleness, sadness, suf- 
 fering and sympathy, perhaps also of the monrnfulness 
 and despair, to which he gave expression one day, 
 when, bending under his burden and tormented by 
 petty fault-finding, he exclaimed: " I shall never be 
 gla'i any mor&" There was in the face, too, the 
 homely and simple benevolence which prompted him to 
 throw himself by the side of the wounded soldier upon 
 the grass, and help his perplexity over his discharge 
 papers. There was both the beauty and the grandeur 
 wrapped in the rough but hardy Imsk of frontier 
 rudeness, which was known to immortality as Abra- 
 ham Lincoln. 
 
 " The old thief that stole my niggahs, " exclaimed 
 a dark, lank man in a loud tone to the crowd that 
 was gazing into the window. 
 
 And then " Colonel " Aiken looked about him with 
 that mingled air of shrewdness and effrontery, where- 
 by chanticleer in the cock of his head during the 
 pause after his lustiest crow, estimates the effect of his 
 c-loquence upon his hearers. 
 
 " Rather than have you feel so bad about it, I '11 pay 
 you for them naow," said the proprietor of an unmis- 
 takable Yankee twang, displaying a silver quarter. 
 
 " How bad do you s'pose I feel about it, sah ? 
 Twenty -five cents' wuth ! That's a Yankee's notion 
 of a man's finer feelings. I feel bad enough for half a 
 column, sah, at regular local rates; an editorial notice
 
 A PROMISING ARTIST. 245 
 
 and a display head 'A confederate brigadier demands 
 his rights under the Old Flag with an Appropriation.' 
 That would be the making of me; " and with a further 
 remark about his projected high-toned restaurant to 
 be opened next week, he reeled away. 
 
 Adelaide remained listening to the comments of the 
 other spectators. 
 
 ".If he stretches out that foot 6' his, he'll make a 
 rise in* the Potomac," said a newspaper art-critic, 
 squinting through his eye-glass; at which several 
 giggled, and Mrs. Cleland grew hot with anger and 
 chagrin. 
 
 " Dat's him honey, dat's him, suah 's you'h bon. 
 I should a known him a mile from hyar. I seen him 
 offen an' offen in dese yere streets. One mo'nin' I 
 was a totin clams; I was sich a little gal I couldn't 
 keep de pail out ob de mud; 'twas afore dis yer 'fault 
 pavement an' sumbody kum along an' guv me a lift', 
 pail an' all, at dat very corner dar. I was skeert; my ! 
 but was n't I skeert ! I kicked, so I nearly kicked 
 out ob his a'ms; foh suah ! An' den you orter heercl 
 him laff. ' Golly, mas,' sez I, ' I tot it was one o' 
 dem critter soldiers a pickin' me up for to tote me 
 down to secesh.' An' den he laff agin, not a big 
 buck-laff, but a lafflike de tuttles; ye know all about 
 de v'ice ob de tuttles, honey? Dat was him; Mas' 
 Linkum." 
 
 "Mas' Linkum!" exclaimed her companion in a 
 tone of awe. 
 
 " Yes, Mas' Linkum ! honey. I seed him wid dese 
 yer eyes, an' I teched him wid dese yer han's ; an arter
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 dat, I seen him often an' offen. An' many 's de night 
 I Ve bressed him an' tanked de Lawd dat made him, 'an 
 sent him, to free de cullud folks. But dey done gone 
 kill him, honey; dey kum up behin' him an' kill him." 
 
 "I wished he'd a lived, " said her companion, the 
 younger of the two. " Say Phoeb, don 't you tink if 
 he 'd a lived, dey would n't robbed de poah cullud folks 
 in de Freedman's Sank? " 
 
 This evidently touched the first speaker in "a sensi- 
 tive point, for straightening herself up and putting 
 her hands upon her hips, she exclaimed " Bobbed 
 dem! not dey I I 'd 'a' had my money dis bressed 
 mini t, ten times as big, jess as dey done tole me; an' 
 if dey 'd stole dat dar money, he 'd a made 'em wish 
 de day ob judgment would kum and get froo wid 'em. 
 He would n't a teched a liar ob Jeff Davis nor any dose 
 folks; he was too soff a critter in his heart, too soff in 
 his heart for dat, honey ; if he 'd had his way, dem folks 
 dat kura up behin' an' shot him, would n't 'a' been hung, 
 I specs; he'd say 'go long dar now, ye poah white truck, 
 ye didn't know nuffin what ye was a doin' ; but I duniio 
 what he would n't V done to dem folks dat stole de 
 money ob de poah cullud people, dat work for it on 
 deir han's an' nees, like I did; an' didn't buy no 
 toggery 'pears like 'twas fo' years an' years, while 
 dey* all laif at me an' say Phreb's a gittin mean jess 
 like dem Yanks, foah de Lawd I 's a shame to be walk- 
 in' 'de streets wid 'er. It's all gone, honey, now, an' I 
 don't keer. I ain 't a gwine to be sech a fool agen. I 's 
 a gwine to spen' my money when I gits it, an' not be 
 foolin' roun' dem banks. Dey say dey '11 take ebry rag
 
 A PROMISING ARTIST. 247 
 
 off ob you suah's you guv'em a chance. Yes, dat 's him, 
 suah, " she continued, looking again at the picture. 
 " Foah de Lawd, I tink if I stans hyar long 'nuff he '11 
 look up when he gits froo \vid dat dar sojer, an' smile 
 jess like he did dat bright, shiny mornin when I was a 
 totin' de clams, an' he sez so kine an' sweet to de 
 gem'l'in he was walkin' wid, I'ze afeard dey'll need 
 many a lift from us, Gennul. " 
 
 In her gratitude for this genuine tribute to her 
 boy's picture, Adelaide would have liked to embrace 
 this patroness of the arts. But her girth forba'le; the 
 fond mother's arms would scarcely have gone half-way 
 round. 
 
 " There 's genius there," said, after a long study, an 
 intelligent, dignified gentleman. "It ought to be 
 encouraged. I wish," he thought, "I had what I once 
 wasted. I would give him a lift." 
 
 "Yes," said the bright and handsome woman on his 
 arm. " They say it 's a mere boy the artist." 
 
 " He lacks practice," replied the gentleman. 
 
 Pleased with the general verdict, Mrs. Cleland went 
 on her way, and, without further adventure, reached 
 her desk. On it she found a letter from the head of 
 the bureau probably a note of directions about her 
 work. She opened it and read: 
 
 Nov. 29, 18 
 
 DEAK MADAM: I am instructed to inform you that after the 
 first prox. your services will no longer be required, and to thank 
 you for your industry and faithfulness. 
 
 Yours truly, H. CLAY WITBECK. 
 
 It grew dark about her, and, instinctively putting 
 out her hand, she seized her chair or she would have
 
 248 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 fallen. Summoning all her strength she bent over 
 her desk and went mechanically on with her work. 
 Slowly the hours dragged. She had but one purpose, 
 one thought after the business day was done to fly to 
 Winifred. She alone could keep back the hungry poli- 
 iticians who, this woman felt, were crowding her to de- 
 spair, perhaps to death. At last the hours came round. 
 Putting on hat and shawl, and scarcely speaking to 
 any one, she hurried through the procession of em- 
 ployes that poured out of the building. She passed 
 a small cluster, one of whom was reading aloud the 
 gossip of the evening paper. What did he say? Did 
 she hear aright? Every word pierced her with a pang 
 of terror. 
 
 " Miss Winifred Brewster, the President's daugh- 
 ter, left last night on her way to Europe, where she 
 will probabty remain all winter, for the benefit of her 
 health. " 
 
 Gone! gone for months! and in one day more 
 her place, and her means of earning her daily bread 
 would be taken from her. 
 
 In utter desperation, she staggered on. Where 
 should she go? To whom could she appeal among 
 the hoarse and eager throng of politicians, whose am- 
 bition and self-seeking rose before her like a pitiless 
 wall of adamant, which she could not break, which 
 she could not scale? To whom, among the myriads 
 in the nation, her million-headed employer, whose very 
 monstrosity made it blind and deaf to the prayer of 
 one feeble woman? In her office she had had no op- 
 portunities for such acquaintance with the world as
 
 A PROMISING ARTIST. 249 
 
 would give her a foothold elsewhere; nor did she ac- 
 quire there the skill and experience useful for other 
 employments. She had no money. She had no 
 friends. Her golden dream of the morning was dis- 
 solved into the hard, bare, brutal fact which with stony 
 cruelty stared her in the face. 
 
 At this moment she saw approaching a gentleman 
 whom she knew by name and sight, and whose con- 
 nection with the Brewster family revived her hope. 
 Summoning her mother's love, thrusting down her 
 modest instinct which, like a faithful dog, tugged at 
 her and held her back, she went up to him, and said: 
 
 "This is Mr. Perceval, I believe. I am Mrs. Cle- 
 land. I came from Roxbury. I have just been dis- 
 missed from my place. I am helpless and friendless. 
 I was on my way to see Miss Winifred, who has stood 
 by me so long. She has gone away. I suppose they 
 knew it and took advantage of it. Can you not speak 
 to her father and tell him the circumstances? I have 
 scarcely seen him for years. He would hardly know 
 me. He is so busy he could not probably give me an 
 opportunity to tell him all. Winifred, I know, would 
 never suffer it, but they scarcely waited for her to get 
 out of town." 
 
 As Adelaide, almost breathless now pale with 
 fear, now flushed with excitement poured out her 
 supplication, Perceval began swelling like a pouter- 
 pigeon, and at the first opportunity said, with his wont- 
 ed pomposity: 
 
 "Ahem! yes, madam, certainly. The President 
 will be only too glad to do anything I ask, in my opin- 
 ion ; provided the case is as you state it."
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 "It is it is!" she cried. 
 
 " No doubt, madam, no doubt," he said grandly, lay- 
 ing his hand upon hers and slyly keeping it, while she 
 was so intent upon his words that she did not even 
 notice the affront. " It shall be attended to. I will 
 investigate it immediately, in order to assure myself 
 of all the points. That done, the President will abide 
 by my advice, and I shall certainly advise in your fa- 
 vor, madam." 
 
 The tears came into her e} 7 es; her bright color 
 bloomed again; she looked so sweet, so charming, that 
 Perceval was tempted to insult her with a kiss in the 
 open street. 
 
 "Thank you! bless you, sir!" she said, fervently; 
 " if you only knew all what I look for, what I am 
 working for. Will it be convenient for you to see at 
 once? The time is short, and once out, it is harder to 
 get back." 
 
 "These affairs must be conducted methodically, 
 madam," said Perceval with extra magnificence, " I 
 cannot let you know before to-night, in my opinion." 
 
 " To-night! " she echoed. 
 
 "Yes, it will take some time to get 'round." 
 
 " I did n't mean that. I was surprised that it would 
 be so soon. Can I know to-night before I sleep?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, certainly." 
 
 " Will you send word a messenger? I live at : 
 
 "No, I '11 not do that; I " 
 
 He was about to add, " I '11 come myself," but a 
 new suggestion checked him. 
 
 " I can arrange it. Can you come down town r.3 
 late as ten o'clock?"
 
 A PROMISING ARTIST. 251 
 
 " I Ve never been out so late as that. I would hard- 
 ly dare " 
 
 " Very well," said Perceval, coldly. 
 
 "0, I will come, sir; I must come; I cannot sleep 
 unless I know." 
 
 " Then meet me at ten o'clock at the Chesapeake Res- 
 taurant two blocks down the next street, to the left." 
 
 She fell back from him, violently pulling her hand 
 away. The hot blood ebbed and flowed from head to 
 foot within her. Her cheek burned now as if he had 
 smitten her with his open palm. Her womanly wrath, 
 gathering its strength like the rage of a wounded an- 
 imal, was about to descend upon him in scorn and ab- 
 horrence, when suddenly the consciousness of her sit- 
 uation burst upon her. She was severing the only 
 thread that bound her to hope and life. She stopped. 
 He watched her saw her glistening eyes and flush of 
 color, and waited in wantonness for her to speak. Did 
 she, he wondered, in that swift moment, assailed by 
 dread, tempted by hope, for the sake of food and rai- 
 ment, for the .sake of her own sustenance and her boy's 
 future, cast away all that makes life precious to woman ? 
 What strife and agony went on within her? What 
 subjugation of her finer self to the caitiff wants of clay ! 
 
 She dared not raise her eyes. She said, in a chok- 
 ing whisper, " I will be there," and turning swiftly, 
 fled in the opposite direction, leaving lum amazed and 
 flattered at the ease of his conquest.
 
 252 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXYI. 
 
 THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 
 
 PERCEVAL was waiting in one of the private rooms of 
 the restaurant. A table, set for two persons, and two 
 bottles of champagne on the ice, showed with what al- 
 lurements he meant to reinforce those necessities of the 
 poor woman, of which he had already tried to take a 
 base advantage. 
 
 He arose and began adjusting his tie, while silently 
 addressing himself in the glass. " Ha! you wicked 
 fellow! They give right up old boy, when they find 
 you 're in earnest. But you musn't shock her at first. 
 You 're a bad boy, Gus Perceval, a very bad boy, I 
 must say. A very bad young man now, ain't you?" 
 
 He caught himself smiling, and his reflections in 
 both senses of the word were interrupted by a knock 
 at the door. The clock was striking the hour as the 
 waiter announced: " The person you spoke of, sir." 
 
 " Show her up ! " said Perceval. 
 
 In a few seconds the waiter again opened the door 
 and, motioning him to retire, Perceval with something 
 of the rudeness of a Caffre bridegroom, rushed to 
 welcome her. Delicacy, even in intrigue, was not one 
 of his strong points.
 
 THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 253 
 
 But running against and nearly upsetting a de- 
 formed youth on crutches, lie recoiled with amazement 
 and disgust. 
 
 " What do you want?" asked Perceval, savagely. 
 
 " My mother is below, waiting the answer yon prom- 
 ised." 
 
 "O! that's her limping whelp," sneered the angry 
 Perceval to himself. " "Well, it 's a short answer," he 
 replied aloud. " Tell her I examined the case, and 
 there 's no call for my interference, and I shall so ad- 
 vise the President." 
 
 Arthur was a sensitive boy whose infirmity had de- 
 nied him knowledge of the world, shielded him from 
 contact with its roughness, and kept him a good 
 deal in ignorance of its wickedness. But, shrinking 
 almost like a woman from this coarse assault, he per- 
 ceived in Perceval's tone the lack of respect which lie 
 knew was due his mother. His love conquered his 
 timidity and, with a certain dignity of resentment, he 
 answered : 
 
 " She should not have demeaned herself by asking 
 3 r ou. 1 'm sure no gentleman would have made her 
 come to a public place like this. If we had not hoped 
 you might prove better than we thought you, we would 
 not have stirred a step." 
 
 " You may both stir several steps and get out* of 
 this," retorted Perceval ; "I might have known what 
 gratitude to expect." 
 
 Adelaide had waited tremulous below. She had 
 given apparent consent to Perceval's proposal because 
 at the same moment, she had conceived the device of
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 baffling his treachery by bringing Arthur to the ren- 
 dezvous with her. But she had hoped, against hope, 
 that Perceval might still set affairs in operation by 
 which she might profit; even trusted, as Arthur told 
 him, that he might not prove as evil as he seemed. 
 So that her disappointment at his answer was serious, 
 if not keen. 
 
 " There 's the picture, mother," said Arthur, as they 
 rode homeward, " that may have a customer soon." 
 
 " People are not spending money for pictures now, 
 not here certainly; at least for that sort of picture," 
 she answered with a bitterness not natural to her, 
 Yet on reflection his suggestion cheered her. 
 
 The belated car, driven at high speed, was approach- 
 ing the cross-street on which she lived and she had 
 arisen to pull the bell. 
 
 " Get away there! Get away there! " cried the driver 
 with an oath, applying his brake with such vigor as 
 to throw her upon the seat just as the wheels were 
 lifted from the track while passing over some soft and 
 sickening obstruction, from which, as the cruel tires 
 cut into it, came a groan of pain. 
 
 She and Arthur scrambled out. The driver, the 
 conductor, and a pedestrian from the side- walk were 
 stooping over some object tying on the track behind. 
 There was a dark stain on the thin snow which had 
 just fallen. 
 
 " He staggered on to me before I saw him," ex- 
 claimed the driver; "and when I hollered, instead of 
 starting back he tumbled forward." 
 
 " He '11 bleed to death," said the man from the side-
 
 THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 255 
 
 Her woman's heart was all compassion. " Bring 
 him to rny house!" she cried ; " two doors off. There 's 
 a doctor 'round the corner. Arthur, go call him, please." 
 
 They carried the limp hody to her cottage, and she 
 had the fainting man placed upon her bed. 
 
 " The doctor says he never goes out nights, unless 
 he knows the persons," said Arthur, coming in. 
 
 " He 's mighty particular," commented the stranger, 
 the conductor having gone on with his car. 
 
 " I don't think there 's another within several 
 blocks," she said. " He might die before we could 
 get another. If I should pay him in advance, don't 
 you think he would come? " 
 
 " I presume so. But I would not risk much on 
 him," he added, nodding towards the bed. " He 's 
 hardly worth saving." 
 
 "He is a human being," cried the womanly woman, 
 as he lay panting and groaning. " I cannot see him 
 suffer like that. Arthur," she continued, thrusting a 
 five-dollar note all she possessed in the world into 
 her son's hand, " take this, and tell the doctor if he 
 has a spark of humanity in him that he '11 come and 
 save a man's ^life!" 
 
 The doctor wore his smoothness as the chamois does 
 that of his skin shaggy side out. Arthur had not at 
 first clearly explained the facts, and, thinking it some 
 drunken spree, he had declined to come. The offer of 
 the money, which he refused, disarmed him, and he 
 presented himself in a very few minutes. 
 
 " A bad case," he said, after an examination. 
 u He has too much whiskey in him. However, I can 
 tell better in the morning."
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 He proceeded to wash and dress the limb, which was 
 badly crushed, Adelaide furnishing what she could 
 from her scanty stores. She could see that the doctor 
 was looking with suspicion or curiosity at the affair, 
 as if trying to defins the relations between herself and 
 the man. The increasing embarrassment grew op- 
 pressive. 
 
 " Have you any idea who it is?" she asked, in order 
 to apprise him of the situation. 
 
 " I never saw him before," said the doctor. 
 
 "Neither did I," she replied, so sincerely that he 
 believed her. 
 
 "How came lie here?" 
 
 " I was in the car. I had him brought here. What 
 else could I do?" 
 
 " You 're a good woman," said the doctor. " The 
 conductor should have taken him to the hospital. I '11 
 go and have some prescriptions put up, and come back 
 and sit up with him. Appearances were against me 
 at first, but I want you to understand you 're not the 
 only good Samaritan in this neighborhood." 
 
 It was long after midnight before the sufferings of 
 the injured man allowed her to sleep. So she arose 
 with a headache, and was half-sick from the excite- 
 ment and disappointment of the previous day. 
 
 She went into the bed-room. The patient lay breath- 
 ing heavily. His blood had dripped along the carpet 
 from the front door, and stained the bed-clothes. The 
 doctor, on the lounge, opened his eyes, got up, and felt 
 of his patient's pulse. 
 
 " A little more favorable," said he. " If he can be
 
 THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 257 
 
 kept perfectly quiet a few days he may come out all 
 right, and amputation not be necessary." 
 
 The loss of a limb always made Adelaide think pit- 
 ifully of her own boy, and she said: 
 
 " Yes yes. He shall not be disturbed." 
 
 "J3ut it's more of a burden upon you than any one 
 has a right to impose," he continued. 
 
 " If it will only save his life!" she answered, though 
 with a sinking heart; not having the least idea whence 
 the means for carrying the burden would come. 
 
 "I'll help you," said the doctor. "But only say 
 the word, and he shall be taken to the hospital; though 
 I'd rather not move him, "he added, speaking to him- 
 self rather than to her. 
 
 " Let him stay ! " she said firmly. 
 
 "Perhaps I can find out something about him. 
 Let us look for his name! " 
 
 His handkerchief did not betray his secret, if it 
 were one, and his garments faithfully hid it. His 
 pocket-book contained a few cents of change, one or 
 two "gambling chips" and a scrap or two of soiled 
 and folded paper. 
 
 " Perhaps he is a dismissed Government clerk," said 
 the doctor; " they are not apt to have many friends." 
 
 His innocent jest stung the distressed woman, but 
 she said nothing. 
 
 " He '11 probably lie in a stupor all day and will 
 only require attention to his doses. I will get a nurse 
 for to-night." 
 
 He returned to his office, and Adelaide prepared 
 herself for her last day's work. 
 17
 
 258 A FAMO US VICTOR Y. 
 
 "Don't despair, little mother !" exclaimed Arthur 
 from a side room he used as a studio, within sight and 
 hearing of the injured man. "Don't give up. I 
 dreamed last night I went by the art store and the 
 picture was gone. Some one had bought it and 
 taken it away." 
 
 She smiled a little at his hopefulness, and said she 
 liked superstitions of that sort. In spite of her incre- 
 dulity, his words soothed her. 
 
 On nearing the art store, she was startled at missing 
 the usual crowd in front. She could hardly realize at 
 once that it meant the picture was not there. She 
 stood still a moment. 
 
 It was not merely that this would bring "an imme- 
 diate relief of her necessities, but it opened up the 
 splendid possibilities which for years had been her daily 
 dream. Arthur, her Arthur, was recognized at last. 
 The talent she had watched with such delight would 
 be seen and known of all men. His name and fame 
 would be on people's lips and vivid far and near in 
 print. Forgotten would be those sad defects of body ; 
 critics would applaud ; admirers caress ; and wide op- 
 portunities be offered for study and improvement. 
 Could he but have created pictures as glowing as his 
 mother's love painted for him, his genius would have 
 won all the treasures of homage and renown which in 
 this brief and delicious enchantment, she imagined 
 were already gained. 
 
 u His dream has come true," she whispered almost 
 aloud. "It 's sold, it 's sold, I 'm sure it 's sold." 
 
 She laughed half hysterically. The joy seemed 
 greater than she could bear.
 
 THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 259 
 
 " I was wicked last night ; too hasty ; too bitter and 
 unforgiving. God forgive me and teach me to forgive 
 them that trespass against me! Teach me to trust 
 thee, O Heavenly Father!" she prayed, "only it's so 
 hard, it 's so hard at times." 
 
 By the time her humble silent litany was done she 
 had reached the window. It was empty ! She rushed 
 into the store. She could not see it anywhere. The 
 junior partner came slowly toward her. 
 
 " Have you sold it, sir ? Please tell me quick! " 
 
 One might have smiled at her want of commercial 
 tact in betraying so great an eagerness to sell. The 
 gentleman made no answer. He pointed toward a 
 case of drawers next the wall. Against them stood 
 an empty frame. Bewildered, she looked at him and 
 then at the frame again. 
 
 " I don't understand exactly. Didn't they like the 
 frame !" 
 
 I 'm very sorry madam," he stammered, " but the 
 truth is, the picture 's gone." 
 
 " Gone ! gone ! " she cried, half in ecstacy, half in 
 alarm. "Who has taken it? How much did they 
 give?" 
 
 " It was not stolen. I do not know who did it." 
 
 She continued staring at him in utter perplexity and 
 then burst out: 
 
 " Who did it ? did it ? My lay did it. Dares 
 any one say he did not do it." 
 
 Her indignation and excitement brought tm her 
 harassing cough. 
 
 "In feet," stammered the proprietor, after she was
 
 260 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 quieter, "some one last night broke into the store, cut 
 it out of its frame, and tore it into shreds. We found 
 them on the floor. You would not care to see them. 
 I am very sorry," he added with sincere sadness in his 
 tones, looking at her agonized face and hearing a con- 
 vulsive sob which she subdued into a convulsive laugh. 
 
 Six months, nine months of her boy's patient work 
 destroyed, almost as by the flash of a sword! She a 
 beggar, he robbed of his precious toil! 
 
 " Are you not responsible ? " she asked almost 
 sternly. 
 
 " Not at all Madam! We exhibited it only as a fa- 
 vor. In fact it annoyed us very much. There was 
 always a crowd and sometimes harsh remarks. But 
 we could not refuse you, and we would have sold it 
 without commission if we could. There were two or 
 three inquiries about it, and much interest manifested 
 by some. To-day a gentleman was to have come in to 
 talk about it, but I don't think, if you'll pardon me, that 
 the execution was quite what it should have been. He 
 can probably do much better the second time. Let him 
 try again, we will effect a sale for him hereafter." 
 
 " Hereafter!" Meanwhile who would feed and clothe 
 and shelter them? and what would she do with the 
 poor wretch whom the storms of fate had, the night 
 before, brought to her own forlorn and sinking craft? 
 
 She was dragging herself out of the store to her work 
 once more, when suddenly she thought : " Why not 
 see him yourself. He can do no more than refuse. 
 Probably he will, perhaps he may not," and, inspired 
 by this new hope, she set off at once.
 
 THE MISSING LINK. 261 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVII. 
 THE MISSING LINK. 
 
 HAYING sent in her card, she waited with a promis- 
 cuous crowd, representing nearly every part and class 
 in the nation, a whole hour in the ante-room for an 
 audience with President Brewster. Officials and con- 
 gressmen passed freely in and out, and it was not until 
 there was a lull in this procession that she was sum- 
 moned. 
 
 Her limbs almost failed her, as she approached him. 
 Even as a neighbor his aggressive temperament and 
 stalwart presence always made her timid, and his pres- 
 ent position only increased the tremor with which her 
 anxious errand filled her. 
 
 " Well madam," said he, abruptly but kindly. 
 
 " I would like to have seen Miss "Winifred, sir," 
 said the trembling woman. " They are going to take 
 my place from me." 
 
 "Who is? " asked Brewster. 
 
 " Mr. Perceval told you, I suppose." 
 
 " No, I have not seen him." 
 
 " I don 't know all the ins and outs of it. sir. Mr. 
 Bunkery wants it for some of his friends, and they 've 
 given me only two days' notice."
 
 262 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 "All!" said firewater, musingly. 
 
 " Can 't you keep it for me! It's all I have," she 
 cried. " The old man is so poor. My boy Robert's 
 boy Robert was a good soldier, a brave soldier, one 
 of your own men, Major Brewster Mr. President. 
 They killed him, you know he was acting under your 
 orders. His boy is so promising, so talented, so gentle. 
 I 've worked hard all his life to give him a chance, 
 and they want my place for a person who has had no 
 experience, and very little fitness." 
 
 Brewster could hardly help smiling at this ar- 
 gument. 
 
 " I 've tried to help the old man at home, too, but 
 expenses were greater here than I thought. I saved 
 a little now and then, but the assessments came along, 
 one after another; they ate it up as fast as I could put 
 it by. Maine, Ohio, New York, it seemed as if 
 there 'd never be an end. There never is an end, sir; 
 it takes one's very hope of saving, and now myall is 
 going. They say I do my work well. Nobody has 
 any fault to find. I seldom lose a day. I gave up my 
 vacation one year to do extra work. Can 't you save 
 it to me? You 've only to speak the word, Mr. Pres- 
 ident. Don't let them take it from me; I shan 't 
 know where, in all this wide world, to turn, when that 
 is gone. For Robert's sake, sir, I will pay some- 
 thing all I can afford to pay. Do not let them take 
 the bread from a helpless woman and starve his boy! " 
 
 She clasped her hands in despair at the prospect of 
 her misery. Her knees gave way, and she sank in- 
 voluntarily to the floor, unconscious of the curious,
 
 THE MISSING LINK. 263 
 
 but sympathetic glances of the secretaries, and the 
 stares of one or two persons who had opened the door 
 and looked into the room. 
 
 Danforth, coming forward, helped her to her feet, 
 gave her a glass of water, and seated her in a chair. 
 
 " Make yourself easy," said Brewster, after she was 
 a little restored ; " I will do what I can. I have many 
 things to consider; but if it be possible, I will see that 
 this goes no further. " 
 
 He waved her away, and she silently withdrew, 
 murmuring her unspeakable thanks for his few words 
 of assurance, whose force and import she had, in her 
 desperateness, greatly exaggerated. As she went out, 
 she met Mr. Bunkery. 
 
 That gentleman began almost peremptorily : 
 
 " It 's over a month, Mr. President, since a place 
 was promised me for my friend Cranage, and his 
 daughter. But I understand now that quite other ar- 
 rangements have been made, or are to be shortly 
 made. I had not expected anything of the kind, and 
 do not comprehend the cause of the delay. " 
 
 "I have been trying my best to make arrange- 
 ments that will be agreeable and practical," replied 
 Brewster, " and I have no doubt that you will be en- 
 tirely satisfied with the result. As I hinted when we 
 talked of it, there are serious objections to the fitness 
 of your friend Cranage for the place. I have pretty 
 much made up my mind about it; though, of course, 
 you are at liberty to make any suggestions that will 
 help to straighten out matters. " 
 
 "Thank you!" said Mr. Bunkery, ironically, "but
 
 264 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 if you could only persuade Byles to wait or to enter 
 into these arrangements you speak of, it would great- 
 ly simplify things. Unfortunately he is n't a party to 
 them, and is doing all in his power to weaken the ad- 
 ministration in " Injanner." He doesn't hesitate to 
 speak contemptuously of you and your cabinet. Al- 
 though I was once very solid myself with Cranage, 
 Byles has been working him ' round. Cranage swings 
 the Methodist vote and is n't to be fooled with. I can 
 hold him, provided I can get a place for him and his 
 daughter now, but it must be done at once or we '11 
 lose him, for Byles is fighting for keeps. There 's a 
 very good berth for the daughter a clerkship Mrs. 
 Cleland's in; and it would let me out nicely. I 
 would n't bother you with a little thing of this sort, 
 only they say you're interested in her of course, I 
 don't mean anything by that and that we 'd have to 
 look to you before the thing was fixed up. " 
 
 " As a rule I never interfere with these petty af- 
 fairs," replied Brewster, " but I am quite inclined to 
 say that so far as your plans concern the lady you 
 mention, she will not be disturbed. " 
 
 " I understood that would be your position, Mr. 
 President, and that 's why I 'rn here. The lady does n't 
 need the place and Cranage's young woman does. I 
 understand she owns a house somewhere either in 
 Washington or wherever she lives, and does n't de- 
 pend on her office for a living. " 
 
 " You are mistaken, " answered Brewster, " she 's 
 very poor; she has made only a small payment on her 
 house. She has a crippled son and one or two other 
 relatives to support. "
 
 THE MISSING LINK. 265 
 
 " I understand, too, " continued Bunkery, " that 
 she 's a little a little well, not quite what she ought 
 to be. I've heard of her making appointments with 
 gentlemen; if so, she ought to be removed. " 
 
 " Sir, it is a slander and a calumny, whoever re- 
 ports it;" replied Brewster. " I 've known, her from 
 girlhood. She is a pure, good woman, and I want to 
 hear no one assail her in that fashion. " 
 
 "O ! I don't accuse her," said Bunkery; "it was 
 one of your own family said so. Personally, I know 
 nothing against her. " 
 
 Then there came a pause, and Bunkery fidgeted at 
 some papers. Brewster turned from him and began 
 reading the endorsements on a file of documents held 
 by a rubber band. Finally Bunkery, drawing out an 
 envelope, took from it a legal paper. 
 
 " I have something here, Mr. President, you would 
 probably like to see." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " It 's an affidavit signed by Augustus Perceval, 
 affirming that on a certain night, about three years 
 since, he overheard a gentleman, by the name of 
 Brewster, arranging with another, by the name of 
 Danforth for a hunting expedition to the far west. 
 The game was to be taken, dead or alive, even if it 
 cost $50,000." 
 
 Brewster turned around so sharply that his visitor 
 involuntarily drew -back a little, but his tone proved 
 mild and satirical. 
 
 " It is not at all flattering on your part, Mr. Bunkery 
 to treat me as one void of understanding. Do you
 
 266 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 really think I am to be frightened bj pointing a weap- 
 on at me which has been already fired off so loud that 
 everybody heard it?" 
 
 "For the matter of that," said Bunkery, marveling 
 at his own boldness, "it's these guns that people think 
 ain't loaded which often do the most damage. How- 
 ever, my gun happens to be a double-barreled one, and 
 I '11 show you what 's in the other barrel." 
 
 So saying, he drew forth another paper, which he 
 laid upon the table, carefully keeping a firm hand like 
 a paper-weight upon it. Brewster had made no fur- 
 ther reply, but almost contemptuously began reading 
 a page of memoranda which Danforth had placed 
 before him. 
 
 Bunkery waited for his attention, and finally re- 
 marked : 
 
 " This is the missing link." 
 
 " If you have anything more to say on the subject 
 which brought you here, I shall be pleased to hear it; 
 but I have no time for comedy." 
 
 Bunkery hesitated again; his courage grew faint, 
 but he thought of Byles, and the bitterness of his win- 
 ning the prize he himself had longed for ever since, as 
 a young man and only a supervisor of Swayne county, 
 he had looked down from the gallery of the Senate and 
 vowed " I will be there myself some day." This ever- 
 present ambition nerved him once more, and he pro- 
 ceeded in a bolder tone than he had yet assumed: 
 
 " I will read this paper. It bears the letter-head of 
 the United States Consulate at London. It is ad- 
 dressed 'My dear Ashton,' and goes on as follows:
 
 THE MISSING LINK. 
 
 A shrewd, intelligent American, Jfr. Carroll, has run across 
 your tracks and was here yesterday morning making inquiries 
 about you and the grain speculation. He took me by surprise, but 
 I did as well a"s I could. You must get out of this at once. The 
 old man's orders were imperative on that point. There 's been 
 some imprudence somewhere. You have been draining him 
 steadily of late; but first thing you know, you will be killing the 
 goose that lays your golden eggs. So don't delay, for I am afraid 
 Carroll already knows too much of the inside of the affair. 
 
 Yours, THOMAS STAKKEY. 
 
 " You recollect, Mr. President," continued Bunkery, 
 " that tlie theory was that a blank piece of paper had 
 been substituted in the official envelope for the original 
 letter. Perhaps that was true, or perhaps the original 
 was preserved and a fac-simile consulate envelope 
 prepared not a very difficult affair in the vicinity 
 of a printing office and the blank paper placed in- 
 side. I am not prepared to say which method was 
 adopted, but I am prepared to say that this is the orig- 
 inal, and it would form a very interesting and essen- 
 tial part of the incompleted evidence. I had hoped 
 that harmony would be restored within the party, and 
 before going to extremities I hope so still." 
 
 Brews ter continued his work. He of course could 
 not afford to allow his preferences in regard to the 
 head of a bureau and a lemale clerk to provoke the 
 publication of further evidence in an affair which the 
 public had by this time forsaken if not forgotten; but 
 he was too shrewd and proud to retreat, showing any 
 signs of a panic. So, as was his frequent fashion 
 when he wished to be impressive, he did not look up 
 from his task, but replied, in mild and indifferent 
 tone:
 
 268 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " You have not begun to exhaust the possibilities of 
 the case. Since, as you suggest, printing is so cheap, 
 perhaps this envelope is not genuine, and its contents 
 are fictitious, instead of the other." 
 
 Bunkery was startled a little at the readiness of the 
 man, and was about to reaffirm the genuineness of his 
 documents, when Brewster continued: 
 
 " That bombshell of yours is filled with sawdust, 
 sir. Our business, I think is finished." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right, Mr. President, so far as the 
 present moment is concerned. But, in case of re- 
 nomination or a second term, the bomb might be found 
 filled with powder." 
 
 Brewster felt the force of this, better than Bunkery 
 could tell him, but he only replied: 
 
 " I think we understand each other, sir." 
 
 " I think so too, sir." 
 
 Bunkery may, or may not, have heard of Lord 
 Brougham's remark that " the \vhole machinery " of 
 the British Government " ends in simply bringing 
 twelve good men into the jury box;" but Bunkery, 
 and, for that matter, Brewster too, had a living faith 
 that the whole machinery of th United States Gov- 
 ernment best fulfilled its purpose, when it got or kept 
 his opponent's "man" or woman "out," and put 
 his own " man " or woman " in." So he took his de- 
 parture, feeling a reasonable assurance that his 
 morning's "work" had succeeded in starting that 
 ponderous engine to effect this sterling piece of states- 
 manship, stretching, in the process, a wretched woman 
 upon the rack of penury.
 
 THE MISSING LINK. 269 
 
 lie was confirmed in this view by a speedy visit 
 from Danforth, who gave him to understand that a 
 surrender of the " bombshell," the " torpedo," and all 
 other munitions of war in his possession, would be 
 absolutely essential to the granting of his request. 
 Bunkery, having a temperament which preferred pres- 
 ent advantages at the expense of future results a tem- 
 perament quite necessary to a sincere believer in the 
 magic potency of paper money consented to the con- 
 ditions.
 
 270 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 DOING PENANCE. 
 
 BEFORE she left her desk that evening, the following 
 letter was handed Mrs. Cleland: 
 
 DEAR MADAM: The President requests me to say that, much to 
 his regret, exigencies of the public service unforeseen this morning, 
 oblige him to abandon the hope he then entertained of his ability 
 to serve you. Please find enclosed a small token of his personal 
 regard and his desire to aid you. 
 
 . Very traly yours, 
 
 LAWRENCE DANFORTH. 
 
 The enclosure was a check for $100. It was a brief 
 reprieve, not a pardon, from the tyrant of a sordid 
 party corruption which condemned her for the crime 
 of blocking the path of a political baron, who, liko 
 many of his class in this " sw^eet land of liberty," and 
 this dawn of the twentieth century, kept alive the 
 essence of feudalism. 
 
 As she reached the little house which she had 
 already made home-like and dear, she bestowed upon 
 it a sad and tender glance in token of the speedy fare- 
 well she would soon have to pay it. Before turning 
 the handle of the door she stopped, her heart sinking 
 again, as it had many a time within the last two da} T s. 
 
 She must tell her boy of her own calamity, and, .
 
 DOING PENANCE. 271 
 
 worse than all, the dreadful story of his picture's fate 
 
 With what anodyne of soothing speech or soft 
 caress could she deaden the torture it was her part to 
 inflict? How could she bear to see the joyless dusk 
 of his bereavement creep over his dear face? How 
 could she tell him that the treasure into which he had 
 wrought a part of his young life, and which, in her 
 impoverishment, he could not replace, was now but 
 worthless litter. 
 
 As she stood thus in sore and troubled thought, 
 the door opened and Arthur appeared. 
 
 "O, Mother!" he exclaimed with his startled face; 
 " the queerest thing has happened. A few minutes 
 ago I picked up this piece of canvass under the chair 
 liis clothes are on; in fact, I saw it before, sticking 
 out of his coat-pocket. It is frayed at the edges and 
 on it are painted the tops of trees, some grass, and a 
 white handkerchief. AVhat seems so funny to me is, 
 that it looks as if it were a part of my picture. It 
 almost gave me a shock at first, and then I laughed at 
 the idea. I suppose it was because I've been wonder- 
 ing all day if they had sold 'The Friend indeed.' 
 "Why, what is the matter, little mother? You look 
 white and faint. Poor, dear mother, you're worn out 
 with fatigue and excitement. Lie down awhile!" 
 
 "It's nothing," she whispered. "Give me some 
 water. I am a little faint. I did not have any lunch 
 to-day." 
 
 The wretch who had played such havoc with her 
 boy's achievement and her own fabric of joy was in 
 her house, lying in her bed, partaking of her bounty,
 
 272 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 a pensioner upon her pity ! She had fed him from her 
 meagre larder, and passed a forlorn and restless night 
 that he might sleep. Weak, helpless, perhaps dying 
 though he were, she hated him with her whole heart 
 lifted him all the more that under false pretenses, it 
 almost seemed, he had defrauded her of her mercy, 
 and by her very kindness laid further claims to her 
 compassion now. The thought of another day, another 
 night, an indefinite succession of nights and days with 
 so cruel an enemy under her roof, was wholly intoler- 
 able. He must go, and go at once. She would not 
 even see him again. It would tempt her to she knew 
 not what scorn, what rancor, what railings, even though 
 his ears were hopelessly closed to her rage, and all his 
 senses, leaden with exhaustion and opiates, would heed 
 neither reproach nor wrath. His presence, heaped 
 upon the injury he had wrought, was an insult beyond 
 words. The doctor must take the miscreant away, 
 though it should change him to the clod, she wished he 
 had become, before he wreaked his idiot malice upon 
 the being who was the dearest of all the world to her. 
 
 And thus fchis harmless, pitiful heart had, by the 
 wanton injustice of paltry politicians, and the blind 
 stupidity of some wretched swashbuckler, been turned 
 to a heart of stone, and its sweet human current poi- 
 soned with the venom of Jezebels and of Borgias. 
 
 Arthur, with mingled curiosity and anxiety, was 
 waiting for her to speak. 
 
 " I '11 tell you about the picture by-and-by, dear 
 boy," she said, turning toward her little parlor. " I 
 want to talk with the doctor. I& he in?"
 
 DOING PENANCE. 273 
 
 " Pie said he would be back at five. It 's very near 
 that now." 
 
 " I '11 rest a while, and do you run out for a breath 
 of fresh air. You have been in all day." 
 
 "Yes, but it's not been so very dismal, after all. 
 I've been sketching, as well as nursing, the patient. 
 He is not very fascinating, though. "Would you like 
 to see it?" 
 
 She shook her head. Had it not been almost dark, 
 he could have seen her look of aversion. 
 
 He took her advice and went out. 
 
 "He is no better," said the doctor, entering, "and 
 I am afraid he will be much worse. He moans and 
 tosses, and is growing weaker." 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 " It is an imposition on you," he continued, notic- 
 ing this marked change in her mood. " I will send him 
 to the hospital.'" 
 
 " Will that be dangerous? " she asked, after a brief 
 pause, and with a strange, intense interest in his an- 
 swer. 
 
 " In his present state, yes; his fever rages and I 
 should fear the worst." 
 
 Another pause ensued. 
 
 "Suppose he had committed a terrible wrong upon 
 you, would you give him shelter," she asked, after a 
 long silence. 
 
 " I am a doctor of medicine, not of moral philoso- 
 philosophy," he evasively replied, wondering at this 
 unexpected interest in a man she had never seen be- 
 fore. 
 
 18
 
 274: A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " Do you think it would be very dangerous? " 
 
 " I think it would be very dangerous." 
 
 "It would probably probably kill him?" she 
 continued, rising and walking, in great agitation, up 
 and down the room. 
 
 " It would be almost certain to do so," he said, 
 more and more astonished. 
 
 " I want him taken away," she cried, in a voice, so 
 hard, so cold, so strident, that she scarcely recognized 
 it as her own, and stood interlacing her fingers with 
 insane nervousness. 
 
 Her tones affrighted her. The excitement of the 
 moment, her previous exhaustion, the mental tumult 
 of the day, had driven her wild, and the sentence she 
 had just pronounced upon a fellow-being suddenly 
 paralyzed her. 
 
 At her words, the doctor, who was standing in the 
 little hall, while she stood in the door-way, put on his 
 overcoat, took his hat, and was drawing on his gloves, 
 with the purpose of sending for an ambulance. He 
 was quite dumb-founded, but, having promised to be 
 governed by her wishes, nothing remained but com- 
 pliance. 
 
 She gazed at him with a steady stare and wanted to 
 detain him, but found herself speechless. 
 
 The horror of the crime she had wished to commit 
 had taken complete possession of her. The doctor's 
 compliant attitude, like the spectral dagger at Mac- 
 beth's hand, startled her from the paroxysm of hate 
 that had seized her. She saw herself standing on the 
 edge of a gulf from whose depth and darkness she 
 recoiled aghast.
 
 DOING PENANCE. 275 
 
 " No, no," she cried after night-mare struggles with 
 her speechless bondage. " I did not mean it. I did 
 not know what I was saying. God forgive my sinful 
 heart! I was maddened by wrongs which, through 
 no fault of mine, have been done me, and which were 
 crushing me* to dust. He shall stay. I will watch 
 and nurse him. I have nothing else to do now 
 nothing in the world to do. I owe him his life, for 
 I would have taken it. I do not know what evil 
 spirit possessed me. I pretend to be a Christian 
 woman, believing in the God of the widow and the 
 fatherless, and yet so weak and so wicked that in all 
 this bad city there is not one baser and wickeder than, 
 for a brief moment, I was in my heart. I cannot 
 tell you now, doctor; but all I have shall be his, and, 
 if that be possible, I will nurse him back to life." 
 
 Concealing his curiosity after the manner of his 
 profession, the doctor bowed in silence, and, before he 
 had taken off his outer garments again, she had gone 
 to the sick man's room. 
 
 And there she remained for days, doing penance for 
 the wrong she had committed against her own soul ; 
 listening to the ravings and the vulgar oaths which 
 the sick man's mind, ungeared by delirium, prodigally 
 reeled off; performing services that only love or relig- 
 ion makes possible to delicate and sensitive women; 
 holding herself with strained and high-strung nerves 
 to every duty and act necessary to save the life of one 
 she loathed; and, until the doctor pronounced him out 
 of danger, lulling her fevered conscience with cease- 
 less martyrdom.
 
 276 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 Then, withholding the story of her desperate situa- 
 tion, she told the doctor the cause of her fierce enmity 
 toward the patient which so suddenly flamed out that 
 fatal afternoon. He listened without a word until she 
 had finished. 
 
 " I do not blame you," he said, when she was done. 
 " If you had told me then, I would have taken the re- 
 sponsibility and would have removed him." 
 
 " Then I am glad I did not tell you. It would have 
 filled me with life-long remorse." 
 
 " Poor woman ! " he thought, looking at the hollow 
 eyes, the hectic flush, and noticing the frequent cough. 
 " It would not have troubled you long."
 
 A HOUSE OF REFUGE. 277. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 A HOUSE OF REFUGE. 
 
 THE patient was wan and weak; the swarthy parch- 
 ment, which served the purposes of a complexion, was 
 sallow and shriveled; the hands and limbs were scarce- 
 ly outlines of the human figure. But he could sit in 
 an easy chair the best in the house and, being on 
 the high road to recovery, the doctor determined to 
 send him away at once. 
 
 " See here, my man," said the physician suddenly: 
 " do you know who has been caring for you as only a 
 woman cares for a brother that scarcely ever speaks 
 a kind word to her, or for a drunken husband whose 
 life she saves that he may curse or beat her when 
 he gets strong again?" 
 
 " I didn't know, be Gahd, doc., " said the other in a 
 subdued voice, for he was physically weak and mor- 
 ally tame. 
 
 "I'll tell you, sir. She is the mother of the clever 
 young fellow who painted the picture which you cut 
 to pieces. And she knew yon did it, too I " 
 
 The patient opened wide his eyes and rubbed his 
 head, for during his illness, he had quite forgotten the 
 incident. It evidently came back to him at last, for 
 lie said :
 
 278 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 "Yes, I was right smart drunk that night, doc. 
 'Tain't a thing I'm 's proud of now, as I was then. 
 But as fo' that yeah yahn, you 'ah telling me, doc., I 
 don't b'leeve a word of it. No, no. No Yankee 
 woman would ever have done that, suah. She 'd a 
 tunned me out o' her house at midnight in the cold, to 
 let* me die, and chuckled at me through the winduh. " 
 
 " Yes, that 's your idea of women ; but the truth 's 
 very different, as it is from most of your ideas. She fed 
 and nursed you, and brought you through. The world 
 owes her a grudge for doing it, too. You owe her 
 more than you can ever pay; far more than you '11 
 ever try to pay. " 
 
 The bewildered man could make nothing of this 
 queer problem. Every side that he looked at was en- 
 tirely new to him. His mind, as if in search for some 
 familiar crevice affording him an insight into the pre- 
 ternatural contents of this experience, marched around 
 and around the subject up to which the doctor had led 
 him. 
 
 "Well, be Gahd! I nevah hud anything like that!" 
 he said; adding, after a long pause of astonishment, 
 "what a fool she was!" 
 
 " Now ypu are coining to your senses," commented 
 the doctor. 
 
 " You see how it was, doc. just ask that queer 
 woman to step in here, and I '11 tell you all about it." 
 
 The doctor did so, and Mrs. Cleland, at once curi- 
 ous and reluctant, entered and took a seat. 
 
 " I had taken too much, that 's a fact, doc.," he said, 
 addressing himself to the doctor rather than to the
 
 A HOUSE OF REFUGE. 279 
 
 woman whose benevolent eccentricity had almost led 
 him into assigning her to a different order of beings, 
 " I was marching a kind of lock-step along the street 
 at least it seemed 's though 't was locked and I 'd 
 lost the key when I saw the doah of the stoah open. 
 < Mighty kerless,' said I, ' and I'll ketch the burglah, 
 I reckon.' So I drop in and I see the pictchah; thinks 
 I, I '11 jist fix that, and it '11 be the best thing in the 
 free advertising line I ken git; and I needed advertis- 
 ing, if I needed anything. You heah me! Was n't it 
 in the papahs next day?" 
 
 " I saw a paragraph, I think," said the doctor. 
 
 "Only a paragraph !" said "Colonel" Aiken, contempt- 
 uously ; " 'twas wuth a colnm', and would have given 
 the word ' go' to my cornah grocery. I '11 start her next 
 week, anyhow. When I came out of the stoah, doc., I 
 sort o' felt mean all ovah, that 's a fact, though I had n't 
 any notion what 'twas all about. Thinks I, I '11 lie down 
 and sleep it off; then something seemed a-lmrting me 
 pretty bad, and next thing I knew I woke and saw you 
 and this curious lady looking at me. Madam ! " he 
 said, with a serious and unwonted dignity, " I want 
 to apologise; on my honah I do, madam! I owe you 
 a great deal more than an apology, and if his luck 
 won't keep dead against him, Jefferson Aiken will see 
 that you ah paid, madam ; be Gahd, 1 will. Excuse 
 me, madam ! That was a word from my native tongue 
 which I learned in infancy, madam. They say when 
 yon ah a little out of your head, the language you 
 learned when you were a child, even though you 've 
 forgotten it, 'will come back to you. In the meantime,
 
 280 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 madam," he added, fumbling in his vest-pocket and 
 handing her the few cents of change which constituted 
 his entire fortune, and a memorandum of the odd dol- 
 lars due him by a poker comrade as impecunious as 
 himself; "you need it more than I do, madam," he 
 added, almost plaintively, when she declined it, " and 
 Jefferson Aiken is not accustomed to have the tokens 
 of his regard refused in this fashion. All I have is 
 yours, and more too, if you want it." 
 
 In spite of the grotesqueness of his attempts at re- 
 pairing his mischief, the " colonel's" gratitude was 
 quite sincere, and he arose to press upon her his dime 
 or two and the worthless scrap of paper. In his weak- 
 ness he fell, and she ran to raise him to his chair again. 
 His helplessness appealed so keenly to her ever ready 
 pity, that for the time she forgot her wrongs and his 
 absurd effort to atone for them. 
 
 The doctor, in no wise sentimental, and having too 
 many engagements on hand, had, after intimating to 
 " Colonel" Aiken that this must be his last day, taken 
 his leave. 
 
 "Thank you, madam," said the "colonel," after 
 taking his seat. " I 've never known much kindness, 
 that 's a fact, madam. My folks were or'nary folks, 
 and used to kick me, and cuff me, and swear at me, a 
 good deal. Maybe it hardened my heart a little; but 
 though I 'm an ugly customah and I want everybody 
 to know it, and I like to have it put in thepapahs that 
 Gunnel Jefferson Aiken is an ugly customah, yet when 
 it comes to a poor woman or an unhappy child, I feel 
 as if there was never enough in my pockets for them;
 
 A HOUSE OF REFUGE. 281 
 
 and there ain't very apt to be, that 's a fact, madam." 
 
 And then the "colonel" with needless candor told the 
 story of the misfortunes which, if you were to believe 
 him, had dogged him all his life like a pack of hounds, 
 It was his luck that dug the pitfalls into which he was 
 constantly tumbling; it was his luck that kept him 
 poor; deprived him of employment; and had at last 
 driven him an outcast and a vagrant, into the streets. 
 He had always tried to live an honest, upright, useful 
 life, but his luck thwarted his highest purposes and 
 brought to naught his hardest struggles. 
 
 Of course this went straight to the compassionate 
 woman's heart and, for the time, obliterated the keen- 
 ness of the injuries which she had suffered. She saw 
 in him, as in herself, only a victim of a merciless and 
 capricious fate which threw her, and him, and other 
 poor weak creatures, into the arena of life, to be de- 
 voured by the wild beasts of poverty and hunger, in or- 
 der to make holiday for the rich and the strong 
 the emperors of fortune and the favorites of Provi- 
 dence. 
 
 " And you were not there to steal? " she asked. 
 
 "No madam. I have my faults and I 'm willing the 
 world shall know them, but I never yet was a thief." 
 
 " What possessed you then to enter the store and 
 to to ruin my dear boy's picture?" 
 
 " The devil, madam, that 's a fact. I didn't break in. 
 The devil left the door open. If I had known there 
 was a poor widow and a fatherless boy, I would have 
 cut my hand off, before I 'd hurt his pictchah; that 's a 
 fact, I would indeed, madam. It 's always my luck, 
 that 'sail."
 
 282 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 At this moment, the latch of the gate clinked and 
 Mrs. Cleland who was sitting near the window looked 
 out. Two strangers were entering the yard and ad- 
 vancing toward the front door. Alarmed at some 
 possible new calamity to her or hers, she exclaimed: 
 
 "What can they want here! " 
 
 "Who is it?" asked the colonel. 
 
 "Two policemen," she said, catching sight of his 
 badge as one of them passed to the rear of the house 
 and the other rang the bell, which she arose to answer. 
 
 In all her life she had never had occasion to come 
 in contact with the custodian element of the social 
 structure and, like most women, she had a natural ter- 
 ror of the official embodiment of law. As she opened 
 the door her heart fluttered and she could scarcely 
 speak. 
 
 " Good morning, ma'am!" said the policeman, push- 
 ing past her and taking possession of the parlor into 
 which she tremblingly followed him, only to find it 
 empty. 
 
 The "colonel" was gone! 
 
 "There's a man in this house we want," said he, 
 losing no time in ceremony; "where is he?" 
 
 Perhaps it was her compassion, perhaps a remnant 
 of the remorse for the leaven of crime seething in her 
 breast that eventful afternoon, that prompted her to 
 answer: 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 " Has there not been an injured man by the name 
 of Aiken hid in this house for two weeks?" 
 
 She hesitated a second. She had never in all her
 
 A HOUSE OF REFUGE. 283 
 
 life told a deliberate lie. The officer noticed her delay 
 and said sternly: 
 
 " You must answer!" 
 
 " He was here; but but he has gone." 
 
 "Then I shall arrest you for harboring him and let- 
 ting him escape," he said, approaching with a hand 
 extended toward her shoulder. 
 
 The room whirled around. The shame the dis- 
 grace of it marching through the streets and into 
 the building which she had always associated with re- 
 volting degradation! shut in a cell! arraigned with the 
 infamous and the vile! this horrible picture unrolled 
 itself before her terror-goaded imagination. 
 
 She heard a slight noise in the bedroom. She had 
 but to speak but to look that way, and save herself 
 from this last and greatest horror; and yet, with wom- 
 anly fidelity, she shrank from betraying even an en- 
 emy whcthad found a refuge in her house. 
 
 Again the noise, as of a window. He was escaping, 
 and even his betrayal might not save her, unless she 
 spoke at once. 
 
 This time, the officer heard it also, and strode across 
 the room to the bedroom door. Before he reached it, 
 it was flung open, and a dark, pallid face, and a lean, 
 almost decrepid body, greeted and halted him. 
 
 "I am the man you want, sah." 
 
 "You 're right, " said the officer. 
 
 "Don't lay your hands on that innocent woman, sah; 
 she's a saint, and it would well for you and me if there 
 were more of them in this disgusting world. Have 
 no fear about that lie you told, madam ! It was as
 
 284 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 white as your soul whiter even than your face is now. 
 It's forgiven already." 
 
 "I 've been looking for you for some time," replied 
 the officer, who was of a practical rather than an ethi- 
 cal turn of mind. 
 
 "And you came near not seeing me, as it was. I 
 was half out of the window when I hud what you 
 said to her. 'Gunnel', says I, 'this won't do. No wo- 
 man ever yet went to the. lock-up on your account, 
 and, be Gahd, its bad to begin with a woman like that. 
 So I pulled myself back and I '11 go along quietly. 
 If my cussed luck ever lets upon me, madam, I '11 have 
 it advertised in the papers, and by applyin' to the sub- 
 scribah you can hear of something to your advantage ! 
 Good-bye, madam, and don't forget that I owe you 
 something besides an apology." 
 
 The "colonel," again bidding her farewell, was led 
 off. A want of the slightest evidence tl*at he had 
 broken into the store ended in his speedy discharge, 
 and he had the pleasure of seeing an account of it in 
 the next morning's paper. His eccentric orbit never 
 again crossed that of the woman who had nursed and 
 sheltered him, for, in a few days, she departed for Rox- 
 bury as poor as when she left there more than three 
 years before; returning with no prospect but destitu- 
 tion, no hope but the grave; meanwhile, in Mr. Buu- 
 kery's words, the government continued to be " run " 
 independently of " business principulls."
 
 IN THE PRESENCE. 285 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 IN THE PRESENCE. 
 
 " A LETTER from Roxbury this morning," said Law- 
 rence Danforth to Brewster, about a year after these 
 events. "Britton gave up work about nine months 
 ago, and set up as a workingman's leader and agitator. 
 He gets a very comfortable income from the busi- 
 ness of making speeches, organizing leagues, and in- 
 citing strikes. There is no doubt about his being a 
 mischief-maker. That is what I made up my mind to 
 that morning he came to ask for an increase of wages. 
 Somebody lately overheard him saying that it was 
 time for the workingmen to strike for offices as well 
 as wages; that the offices belonged to the people, and 
 the bulk of the people was made up of workingmen. 
 He had saved your daughter's life, he said, and you 
 owed him a top-notch place, and he meant to have it. 
 He was to come again this morning, you remember, 
 sir." 
 
 " He shall have it," replied Brewster, somewhat in- 
 consequently. 
 
 " His answer, I suppose you mean," said Danforth. 
 
 " Yes," said Brewster, proceeding to dictate a letter. 
 
 Promptly at the appointed hour, Britton appeared
 
 286 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 in order to obtain the office that, in the name and 
 behalf of the workingmen of the country, he had de- 
 manded a few days before. 
 
 He walked into Brewster's presence with a jaunti- 
 ness and self-possession which, but for their evident 
 use as a mask for his embarrassment, might have been 
 very effective. His confusion, however, proceeded 
 quite as much from the novelty of his situation as 
 from any natural awe of the authority and power 
 wielded by his former employer. 
 
 Theoretically, in this land of equality, there is no 
 reason for feeling in the least abashed at a fellow-being 
 who, by an accident as much the product of his own 
 foresight as the wind or the weather of the month, 
 may have become the President of the United States. 
 
 Know him ! "Why he lived next door, and walked 
 to business in the morning with you, exchanging by 
 no means brilliant observations upon the temperature, 
 the paving-tax, or the debates in Congress ! In early 
 life his acquaintances may have spoken affectionately 
 of him as a " mutton-head." He may have been a by- 
 no-means renowned young army officer, or an obscure 
 business man whose name was closely scrutinized at 
 the bank, or a lively young editor, always holding out 
 a friendly hand or putting it confidentially upon your 
 shoulder. Even if you did not then personally know 
 him, the stereoscope and the microscope of the news- 
 paper reporter have since put you in full possession 
 of the solid image of the man, his home, his family, 
 and the minutest habits and structure of his life, in- 
 side and out; so that, by a fiction of the imagination?
 
 IN THE PRESENCE. 287 
 
 lie is, after all, but little more than Jones across the 
 way or Robinson in the next block. 
 
 Actually, however, to the citizen of ordinary vener- 
 ation, and a sense of the relation of things, the pres- 
 ence of the President of the United States is, if not 
 imposing, at least not trivial or beggarly. You and 
 I, of course, are above performing any sentimental 
 salaams to " the Lord's Anointed." We have an ex- 
 pert knowledge of the poorness of the clay that is in 
 him, and of the weaknesses which, from his conscience 
 to his liver, he possesses in common with ourselves. 
 Yet there are many of our fellow-citizens, less robust 
 and clear-sighted, who feel, in his presence, a mild and 
 involuntary sense of the powers with which the chief 
 executive of fifty millions of people is endowed 
 powers more direct and enormous than those of the 
 monarch of Great Britain, and, within constitutional 
 limits, akin to those of emperors and czars. 
 
 However, little caring for emperors and czars, ex- 
 cept as so many relics of barbarism and obstacles to 
 human happiness, especially, the happiness of work- 
 ingmen's leaders, Britton was chiefly embarrassed by 
 his unfamiliarity with the place and atmosphere. 
 
 The President bade him good morning with a deal 
 of unexpected cordiality and did not even add to ' his 
 embarrassment by waiting for him to introduce his ' 
 errand. 
 
 " Your application for a position has been duly con- 
 sidered, " he said. " Have you any place in view 
 any preference?" 
 
 " No sir, " said Britton, with considerable hesitation,
 
 288 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 now that he was called upon to put his vague demands 
 into exact words. 
 
 "For what do you think yourself best qualified?" 
 asked the President. 
 
 " I had n't thought of that particularly," said Brit- 
 ton, after a short pause. " The fact is, I did n't sup- 
 pose anybody was asked about that, " he innocently 
 added. " I thought all you had to do was to show 
 you had influence with voters ; and I can show that ; 
 I 'm chief of the Eastern "Workingmen 's League, 
 and " 
 
 "Yes," said the President, "that is very important, 
 but it does not exert much influence in politics as yet. 
 However, if that were otherwise, the 'prerogative of 
 the Senate ' stands in the way. " 
 
 "What in" began Britton, startled by this 
 high-sounding phrase, and then, checking himself, ad- 
 ded, "I don 't think I ever heard of that before." 
 
 " Then I will tell yon, " said Brewster quite gra- 
 ciously. " Senator Perry, of Connecticut, controls 
 nearly all of the offices which it would be possible to 
 give you, and you will have to see him, and obtain his 
 recommendation. " 
 
 "I thought the President had control of them," 
 said Britton, who saw that, inasmuch as he had no ac- 
 quaintance with Senator Perry, his chances were fast 
 slipping away from him. 
 
 "That is a popular error," said the President. 
 " Most of them belong to the Senators or the Repre- 
 sentatives. Do you know Senator Perry? No? Then 
 I will give you a letter of introduction, " and direct-
 
 IN THE PRESENCE. 280 
 
 ing Lawrence to write him one and send to his address, 
 the President turned to the next caller. 
 
 Furnished with a flattering note, which declared 
 that the President was under obligations to the bearer, 
 who was worthy of consideration, and that he would 
 be pleased to have the senator recommend him to a 
 position included in his senatorial patronage, Britton, 
 without delay, set out for Senator Perry's house. 
 
 It was a brown stone dwelling, situated on one of 
 those streets in "Washington, which, perhaps, as a 
 tribute to the intelligence of our national rulers, are 
 consecrated to the letters of the alphabet. 
 
 He was shown into the front room of the basement, 
 which was used as an office. Its furniture consisted 
 of a half-dozen plain oak chairs, a green, leather-cov- 
 ered lounge, a steel engraving of Lincoln on one wall 
 and of Grant on the other, and a square writing- 
 table, on which a half-opened mail showed that the 
 senator had been suddenly called away. 
 
 Britton, hastily glancing at it from his chair near 
 by, noticed a sheet ornamented with the same letter- 
 head and covered with the same handwriting as his 
 own. It lay partially foldedon the desk, as if, before 
 fairly opening it, the senator had dropped it and gone 
 off. Carefully listening, Britton, who ha'd few scru- 
 ples about such matters, softly turned down the fold, 
 and, without taking the letter from the table, spread 
 it out before him. To his astonishment he caught 
 sight of his own name. 
 
 Startled by approaching footsteps, he awkwardly 
 pushed it from the table, whence, fluttering and flying^ 
 19
 
 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 it fell at some distance upon the floor. He Lad only 
 time to seize it, not time to put it back upon the 
 table, before the door opened. Britton sank into the 
 nearest chair as the senator came in, and, slightly 
 nodding, took his seat at the table. 
 
 Rising and walking toward him, Britton thrust the 
 open letter into his pocket and took out his own. 
 
 The senator, having opened it and run his eye has- 
 tily over it, began poking carelessly through his papers 
 before him. But, being of an absent-minded and 
 unmethodical habit, he soon gave up the search, saying 
 with deliberation and- long pauses while overhauling 
 his mail: 
 
 "This is curious. Why doesn't he give you a 
 place himself and have done with it? There was a 
 letter about this, I think. I had just begun reading 
 it. I must have taken it upstairs, though I don't 
 recollect it." 
 
 Then he patted his pockets, and from the inside of 
 his coat took out a package of old letters, which he 
 shuffled, but without result. 
 
 "Well, it's no matter, I guess," he said finally, 
 taking up Britton's letter again, which, after another 
 hasty glance, he tossed back upon the table, adding 
 carelessly: * 
 
 "I have nothing at my disposal, and he knows it. 
 When there is anything I will let you know. What 
 is your address? It's of no consequence, for your 
 application is about fifty deep; but I'll take it as a 
 matter of form." 
 
 Britton in a surly and disappointed tone gave it to
 
 IN THE PRESENCE. 291 
 
 him. Tlis indifferent air with which the senator had 
 dismissed, the affair, both vexed and surprised him. 
 He found it difficult to conceive of such inability to 
 comprehend the importance of the subject which he 
 had the honor of presenting to the senator's atten- 
 tion, and was astounded at the stolid quickness with 
 which he and his letter had been dismissed. This 
 careless man surely did not know whom he was treat- 
 ing so contemptuously. The open letter which Brews- 
 ter had given him was evidently not strong or full 
 enough. The senator had become so calloused by the 
 ceaseless importunities of insignificant persons, that 
 he had treated him merely as one of the endless pro- 
 cession of political beggars and impostors which 
 haunted his doors. Brewster's private letter, which 
 unfortunately was now in Britton's pocket, undoubt- 
 edly supplied all these defects, and would have in- 
 sured a favorable answer. It was so flattering and 
 urgent, probably, that the President did not care to 
 have the representative of the workingmen know how 
 much he was respected and feared. He much regret- 
 ted having touched it, and began devising some scheme 
 for putting it into the senator's hand again, but he 
 was outside of the house before he could invent a plan 
 for undoing his mistake. Then he thought he would 
 ring and tell the colored man who would open the 
 door, that he had picked it up in the hall. No, he 
 would go back, and with that excuse, hand it to the 
 senator himself. But he might as well know what 
 was in it first. 
 
 So drawing it from his pocket, he stood in the area,
 
 292 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 under the front steps, and read.Brewster's private 
 opinion of him. 
 
 DEAR SIR: One Wm. Britton, from Koxbury, will shortly call 
 upon you. He is one of these pestilential fellows who make a 
 business of agitation, and he wants some sort of official recog- 
 nition, which, for various reasons, the President is disposed to 
 withhold. He is, however, not in a position to peremptorily de- 
 cline the man's request, and will send him to you with a formal 
 letter of introduction, which you are at liberty to treat as such. 
 Yours truly, LAWRENCE DANFORTH. 
 
 Puzzled though he was, by the official and indirect 
 language, Britton caught its purport easily enough, 
 and in his rage tore the letter into such small frag- 
 ments that the senator's steps and sidewalk looked as 
 if, in the language of the weather bureau, they had 
 been the victim of a " local snows. " Once or twice, 
 he swore aloud, attracting the attention of the passen- 
 gers. His first impulse was to betake himself to the 
 executive mansion and vent his wrath upon Brewster; 
 but, even if he really contemplated the wild scheme, 
 it was too late in the day to gain admission. 
 
 He raved all the more at this balking of his plans, 
 because, owing to his ignorance of the " machine, " he 
 was at the end of his resources. He did not know that, 
 like the spinning-machine with which he was- famil- 
 iar, the political "machine" has its laws and prin- 
 ciples, in accordance with which it is operated; that 
 only a long apprenticeship and service to it, can make 
 one the master of it; and that those who have learned 
 the trade of "running " it, object to sharing with out- 
 siders the profits thereof, even as the spinners and 
 weavers oppose the employment of those who do not
 
 IN THE PRESENCE. 293 
 
 belong to their unions, and do nothing to promote their 
 welfare. 
 
 Britton, with ambition out of all proportion to his 
 abilit t y and experience, was filled with rancor by 
 his failure as well as by his discovery of the con- 
 temptuous terms in which Brewster had described him 
 in the letter that was intended to throw upon Senator 
 Perry's shoulders the responsibility of refusing him. 
 He had boasted so loudly, too, of his influence and 
 its probable recognition from Brewster that he dread- 
 ed to go back to Eoxbury. However, revenge still 
 remained, and to some natures the gratification of this 
 passion is scarcely less agreeable than the accomplish- 
 ment of their plans.
 
 294 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 HOW WATER RAN UP HILL. 
 
 ON approaching Roxbury by the train one might 
 at this time have easily mistaken a week-day for a 
 holiday or a holy day. There was an oppressive and 
 supernatural silence peculiar to manufacturing towns 
 on days when the bells might well be nothing but 
 painted images of themselves, when the clashing 
 shuttles of the looms are dumb, and the spinning 
 jennies no longer clatter and sing. 
 
 About the cottages and tenement-houses of the op- 
 eratives as well as the saloons and the billiard halls, 
 hung groups of men, talking, whittling, and jesting. 
 Here and there they were engaged in wrestling or 
 horse-play, or amusing themselves with practical jokes 
 upon one another. In the streets one perceived that 
 leisurely bustle of an idle crowd so different in its as- 
 pects from the bustle of a busy one. 
 
 Such, during the past year, had been the situation 
 in Hoxbury for weeks at a time, and in this feverish 
 and boisterous state of affairs Britton had found both 
 materials for his activity and stimulants for his am- 
 bition. 
 
 The increase of the currency was followed by its in-
 
 HOW WATER BAN UP HILL. 295 
 
 evitable results. Prices began rising. Merchants and 
 speculators attended to that part of the affair. Wages, 
 as always, limped behind. The law acted with im- 
 partial indifference to all points of the compass ; 
 ]S"orth and South, East and "West; among the opera- 
 tives of Roxbury and the farmers on the prairie. 
 
 Even Mrs. Cranage, Bunkery's female disciple in 
 the science of political economy, received additional 
 enlightenment upon the subject, when, one morning 
 after she had scalded the milk pans and set them out 
 to dry, a stranger in a brightly varnished buggy drove 
 into the yard. 
 
 " What '11 you take for all the stock you can spare, 
 Mrs. Cranage? " he asked jumping out of his buggy. 
 
 Flattered at hearing an utter stranger call her by 
 name, she replied in easy good nature: 
 
 "I dunuo; how much 's t 'wuth? " 
 
 " I 'in giving fifteen cents a pound," said he. 
 
 "Fifteen cents!" cried Mrs. Cranage, in the aston- 
 ishment naturally arising from her neglect of prices 
 current. 
 
 The stranger was sorry that he had not offered twelve. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " cash down." 
 
 "Wai, wal!" she muttered, "ef thet ain't the beat 
 o' all creation." 
 
 "How many can you let me have? "asked the 
 stranger. 
 
 " Wal, I allow I ken let yuh hev three critters." 
 
 '" Yery well, I '11 take them*" ' 
 
 They were duly weighed and nearly four hundred 
 and fifty dollars put into her hand.
 
 296 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " Laws-a-mas', what 's a comin' to us ! " slie ex- 
 claimed, scarcely believing her senses as she sat 
 smoothing out and folding the new, crisp, pretty bills, 
 counting them over for the fourth or fifth time and 
 wondering what she should do with it all. 
 
 "Mr. Bunkery knew fur keeps what he was talkin' 
 about arter all," she soliloquized. " Thet 's my ideer 
 now of pretty good times. Itecl good times ud be 
 when critters is wuth twenty cents and caliker five 
 cents. But caliker uz raither up las' time I uz over 
 to Injannerville. P'raps its dumb down a peg. 1 '11 
 drive Josh over this arternoon and put this in the 
 bank, and then I '11 stock up." 
 
 In order not to be tempted into extravagances, she 
 went first to the bank and deposited nearly the whole 
 of her money. The cashier did not stare, as she ex- 
 expected he would, at the size of her deposit, but en- 
 tering the amount in her pass-book, handed it back to 
 her without any signs of emotion. With twenty-five 
 dollars she betook herself to Dunham's store resolved 
 upon a long, delightful afternoon's rummage among 
 the goods, and a taxing to the verge of rebellion the 
 patience of the clerk, distinguished for his red eyes, 
 paper collar, checked pantaloons, and alpaca coat. 
 
 " I want ten pounds of sugar," she said. "How 
 much is it?" 
 
 " Fifty cents," replied the young man. 
 
 Her eyes danced with the pleasure which every 
 woman feels at the consciousness of a good bargain. 
 Her "reel good times " had come. Sugar only five 
 cents a pound, "critters", fifteen.
 
 HOW WATER BAN UP HILL. 297 
 
 "I 'in afeard he's a blunderin'," she said to herself. 
 <k He looks stoopid." 
 
 " Be thet first-rate? " she asked, pointing to some 
 packages of coffee. 
 
 " Prime, we 're selling it fur a dollar." 
 
 " Coffee down too," she thought. " What 's Horn- 
 by the bar'l?" she continued. 
 
 " Fourteen dollars!" said he. 
 
 " You don't hear stret, I reckon; I said a bar'l, not 
 a waggin' load." 
 
 " Fourteen dollars a bar'l, mum." 
 
 At that moment Mr. Dunham, the proprietor, en- 
 tered. She did not stop even to return his civil " good 
 afternoon," but cried out: 
 
 " Deeken, ye don't mean fur ter tell me to iny face 
 that flour 's fourteen dollars a bar'l ?" 
 
 The deacon, frowning at the clerk, asked: 
 
 "Who said t'wuz? That lunk-head over thar? Hej 
 yuli ben atellin' her flour 's fourteen dollars a bar'l?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the young man. 
 
 " Yuh '11 be the ruination on me. Did n't I read it 
 out o' the paper this mornin' thet flour 's fifteen dol- 
 lars a bar'l. I '11 gin ynh fifty cents to let me off, 
 mum. Thet 's what a green un like him costs a 
 man." 
 
 "Fifteen dollars a bar'l!" she exclaimed; "Ef ynh 
 wa'n't a pillar o' the church, I sh'uld say, deaken, 
 ynh wuz acheatin' a poor widder outer her eye teeth." 
 
 " Thar 't is, mum," said the proprietor, showing her 
 the paper. 
 
 Putting on her glasses, she scrutinized it, as the re-
 
 298 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 nowned college pr fessor is said to have studied a 
 Greek manuscript, in a vain endeavor to distinguish 
 a comma from a fly-speck. 
 
 " Everything a kitin'," said the deacon; and Mrs. 
 Cranage slowly began to understand the situation. It 
 was not "critters" alone that were "up," everything 
 was " up." The calico she expected to get for at least 
 fifteen cents, was forty; the coffee was a dollar a pound, 
 not a package, and everything else in proportion. 
 
 " Let 's see," she said, the tears almost coming into 
 her eyes at her vexation, sense of loss, and general 
 anxiety; " How much d' I owe yuh now?" 
 
 " Twenty-six, twenty," answered the clerk, after fig- 
 uring the sum on a sheet of brown wrapping-paper. 
 One would have said the poor woman imagined her- 
 self in a den of thieves, and was looking about for a 
 way of escape. 
 
 "How 's thet?" she asked in desperation, and he 
 gave her the items, which were as forlorn as the totals. 
 " Goodness, gracious, deaken ! What are w r e comin' 
 to, when yuh grind us down like- thet?" 
 
 " I grind yuh down!" exclaimed Deacon Dunham, 
 " when i don't know from one day t' another how 
 much I shall be a pay in' for goods? p'raps more hull- 
 sale than I git now re-tail. Golly, mum! but you've 
 got to put on the prices to keep in sight on 'em, or 
 yuh '11 be lasted higher 'n Gilderoy's kite." 
 Mrs. Cranage went home a wiser woman. 
 And following all this was the collapse and a repe- 
 tition of the experience w r hich nations always go 
 through after periods of speculation and expansion.
 
 GETTING EVEN. 299 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXII. 
 
 GETTING EVEN. 
 
 IT was the middle of the afternoon that Britton, 
 alighting from the train at Rpxbnry, made his way 
 down the street to his lodgings at a small hotel situ- 
 ated in an obscure and not particularly agreeable 
 neighborhood, a short distance from the station. 
 
 After depositing his luggage he betook himself to 
 Kaiser's beer-hall, now the most flourishing place of 
 business in town and more than compensating its 
 owner for the loss of his " bozd-ovvis." 
 
 The atmosphere of the room was thick with smoke, 
 while stains of tobacco juice were dyeing the sawdust, 
 new and pure that morning, into a by -no means pleas- 
 ing imitation of tan-bark. The tabbs were covered 
 with dominoes and puddles of beer. Kaiser stood 
 with one hand constantly upon" the ebony handle of 
 his beer pump, while the thumb and finger of the 
 other swept from the punctured brass drainer in 
 front of him, six or eight glasses at once, plunged them 
 into the sink behind the counter, and, after their bath, 
 dexterously brought them under the faucet whence he 
 filled them once more. 
 
 A look of curiosity and interest, though scarcely of
 
 300 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 pleasure, greeted Britton from the score and odd of 
 faces which looked up to him on his entering. 
 
 "Well Britton! what luck?" asked Jay cox who, 
 shortly after Brewster's iinal refusal to take him into 
 his employment, had, through Mr. Stratton's inter- 
 vention, obtained a place elsewhere. 
 
 " Look 's if he 'uz going to go as a 'bas'dore to the 
 Heathen Chinee," said Harmon from behind his hedge 
 of tangled whiskers. " Got to eat pups with the washee- 
 washees, Britton ? " 
 
 The disappointed office-seeker scowled a little and 
 said with a slight irritation. 
 
 "You'd better ask me what I'm going to drink; 
 eatin 's gettin' too expensive." 
 
 "There's some truth in that" said Jaycox; "when 
 a man's spent his week's wages he's hardly enough 
 left in his house to feed a cat, let alone his wife and 
 children. Seem 's if every butcher and grocer in the 
 city just slapped on the prices when they see you com- 
 ing Saturday night. By the time we get what we're 
 striking for now, prices '11 be just 'as much above wages 
 as they were a month ago. I always said 'twould be 
 so, though I don 't know that there 's much consola- 
 tion in that." 
 
 " Tell us what come of it! " urged Harmon, return- 
 ing to the subject of Britten's visit to the capital. 
 
 " You '11 see what '11 come of it, before you 're 
 much older, " said Britton, declining further explana- 
 tion, except to add, "it's something that '11 help you 
 all." 
 
 a I wisk 'twould hurry up," said a faded, weak- voiced,
 
 GETTING EVEN. 301 
 
 little man with a tippet of sandy whiskers under his 
 chin. "I 've been lookin' for it every mornin' this 
 forty year, and hain't seen it yit." 
 
 "You '11 see it," said Britton with the assured tone 
 of an astronomer predicting an-eclipse, "but the more 
 we pull together the sooner it '11 come." 
 
 There was something pathetic in the gleam of hope 
 which illuminated the faces of some of these eager lis- 
 teners. There were a few indolent and worthless fel- 
 lows, in whose idea 1 society everybody but themselves 
 was to do the work ; but, for the most part, they were h on . 
 est men whose most diligent thought and labor in 
 adding up their gains, left them only a "naught" of cash 
 for this week's column and a " ten" of care to carry to the 
 next;'and who, as the result of this arithmetic, were al- 
 ways put on the wrong side of that decimal point 
 which divides the wealthy units from the needy frac- 
 tions. 
 
 "In the meanwhile," continued Jaycox, "there's 
 pale pinched faces, and thin lips, and eyes with tears 
 in them. I know what I shall find in one house some 
 morning it '11 be white and cold; just a mask of skin 
 over the bones; a poor wan body under the coverlid, 
 if there is one, and a deformed boy barely kept alive 
 by his mother's love." 
 
 He spoke so solemnly that for a moment there was 
 silence in the room, which, availing himself of the sym- 
 pathy and curiosity these words excited, Britton broke 
 by exclaiming: 
 
 "It 's these capitalists, always looking out for their 
 own interests."
 
 302 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 "Well, so far as I know, everybody looks out for his 
 own interest," replied Jay cox. 
 
 "Somebody 's got to look after mine, or I shall have to 
 chuck my wife and young uns into the river," said Har- 
 mon in a matter-of-fact tone as if it were a method for 
 solving such difficulties habitual with him. "It's all 
 along uv us workin' to fatten sommun else. ' T would 
 raise a rumpus, now wouldn't it, to fill up that iar eel- 
 hole with 'em? Those eight corpusses would make 
 more ov a racket than they gen'lly duz. Folks "d say 
 ' here, suthin 's wrong,' an' would begin to stomp 
 about a bit, and give poor critters a lift; that would n't 
 help the ole women and the little uns, with their ribs 
 a showin' through like the lath where the plasterin' 's 
 broke off, in the shanty we 're in this week, tho' where 
 we'll be next, onless 'tis in the eel-hole, I dunno. 
 'T would n't put any fat on their bones, would it?" 
 
 "Can't say's 'twould," said the faded little man. 
 
 "No," continued Harmon; "folks as was still high 
 and dry might be better for 't; but 'twould n't be any 
 water on our wheel. So I ain't quite ready fur to put 
 the old 'oman and the chicks to soak, just to help them 's 
 ain't no wusser off 'n I be. But there 's a way of mak- 
 in' folks ask about you without 's it costin' you a 
 cent." 
 
 What 's .that? " asked tne faded little man. 
 
 But Harmon contented himself with shaking his 
 head as if he were not yet quite ready to impart his. 
 portentous secret. 
 
 There was, however, a general murmur approving 
 his plan of relief, whatever it might be; for to them
 
 GETTING EVEN. 303 
 
 the relief seemed to be of far more importance than 
 the method. 
 
 Britton at once perceived this mood, and nothing 
 better suited his present purpose of avenging himself 
 on Brewster. 
 
 " "When they train men for a fight, I s ' pose you 
 know," he said, rising, putting his foot upon his chair, 
 and resting an elbow upon his knee, "they begin by 
 dietin' 'em takin' the flesh' right off of 'em. That's 
 what* your masters are doin' for you, I see. You're 
 gettin ' thinner and thinner, every day. " 
 
 He drew out his words with bitter distinctness and 
 smiled sarcastically. 
 
 "Thinner and thinner every day," he repeated, 
 "until you get down to the fighting point. Then 
 they '11 send for the police or the soldiers and shoot 
 you for wanting to put something into your empty 
 stomachs and the empty stomachs of your wives and 
 young uns. I s 'pose you '11 slink away those who 
 haven't bullets in their heads or their skulls cracked 
 and stick to the slavery in which they hold you. 
 And yet standing right over there is a big mill that 
 can turn out enough to support every man, woman, 
 and child of you all. And why don't it? Because it 
 has to build and warm the big house, and load the rich 
 table, and soften the easy beds of half a dozen people, 
 while you shiver in your shanties and eat your corn 
 meal if your stomachs can stand it, or go without 
 food if they can't." 
 
 These words, made still more bitter and emphatic 
 by the hatred which inspired them and which lit up his
 
 304: A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 face, aroused the passions slumbering in the breasts of 
 those who needed only a spark to explode the discon- 
 tent which hunger and want had rendered savage and 
 murderous within them. 
 
 "We'll stand by you," said Frank Harmon, the 
 broad-chested, deep-voiced operative, big and hairy, 
 with his round face and long upper jaw, against which 
 he snapped his lower one with an almost animal 
 ferocity. 
 
 "What can we dof" asked the faded little man, not 
 exactly with -timidity, but apparently for enlighten- 
 ment. 
 
 "Do! Do!" echoed Britton. "Stand square on 
 your feet and say, this earth is mine! I was born on 
 it. I have an equal right with every other man to all 
 that's on it. If they- won't give it to you, taJte it/" 
 Who is it tells you you shall have two or three dollars 
 a day, while he takes twenty, or thirty, or fifty? He 
 was born, and he will die, as naked as you." 
 
 " Be jabers, the divil will ketch him, ainy how," 
 said Irish Larry. 
 
 " I don't know nothing about that, and you don't," 
 said Britton. "But that reminds me. They like to 
 teach you that you 're laying up something here which 
 you can spend in the next world. We can't give you 
 what belongs to you here, they say ; we 're very sorry 
 and Oh ! awfully sorry they are, to be sure but the 
 law of supply and demand you know, forbids it. We 'd 
 like to repeal this law, but we can't. God Almighty 
 made it, and he won't abolish it. But he '11 square the 
 account with you in the next world. You '11 have
 
 GETTING EVEN. 305 
 
 your innings then. If you 're good and won 't make 
 a fnss, you 'tt have a good time then. But I notice 
 they 're mighty careful to take theirs now. They 'd 
 like to have you trust the Almighty, but they won't: 
 I don't blame them. I don't myself, and I don't 
 mean to. They 're too smart to wait. They like to 
 take things good things as they come along, and 
 for one, I'm going to do it too. Their Almighty, I 
 notice, is the Almighty who, according to their tell, 
 put you here, poor and hungry, and set you to work so 
 they may lie idle; and you're not to find fault, but if 
 it grinds you, and starves you, and freezes you, you 're 
 to go off to some hole and die, and not make them 
 feel uncomfortable with your sufferings. " 
 
 There was visible among some of them an evident 
 shock at the impiety thus boldly uttered. They 
 shrank away from him a little, as if they were fright- 
 ened, for they were staggered at his audacious chal- 
 lenge of all that they had been taught to regard as 
 sacred. Some remembered that the priests had 
 warned them against such men as this Britton. 
 
 "An' don't you belave in God?" asked one of tie 
 more devout among them. 
 
 "I don't believe in anything that I can't see, feel, 
 taste, touch, or smell, " he replied. " I believe in this 
 world. I believe in enjoying yourself while you have, 
 a chance. I don't know anything about another 
 world. I believe it's an invention of these people who 
 plunder us. They act just like folks that don't want 
 to be bothered with their children. You 're too young, 
 they say, to have this, or do that, as we do. When 
 20
 
 306 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 you are grown up, you can have a good time. And so 
 these folks put us off with these fables about how it is 
 going to be hereafter. I believe in cash down. Let 
 them wait for the fun. " 
 
 " But they 've got the cash, and we have n't," said 
 the faded man. 
 
 " No, and you never will till you show 'em you 're 
 going to have it. If they won't give you your share, 
 take theirs away from them. If their mills grind so 
 you get the bran and they get the flour, make 'em 
 build 'em so '& they'll grind even." 
 
 "That's the talk! " "That s the talk!" "We're in 
 for that!" "Let's do it to-night!" cried several 
 voices. 
 
 "No," said Britton, with a cunning look; " not to- 
 night; nor to-morrow night," he added, after a pause; 
 " we want to be sure of success. We must make it 
 warm for them everywhere at once." 
 
 " That 's impossible," said the faded man. 
 
 " Nothing 's impossible," said Britton " except one 
 end to a stick." 
 
 They laughed, and he added: 
 
 " They 're like a bully at school when I was a lad. 
 He 'd thump a bit of taffy out of one little chap, 
 snatch a raisin or two from summun else, pull some 
 chesnuts out of another feller's pocket, an' by the time 
 he got clear 'round he 'd a better luncheon than any- 
 body he 'd stole it from, an' it hadn't cost him a pen- 
 ny, neither. Capital 's the bully, and we 're the boys 
 a-fattenin' on him up." 
 
 " Then we '11 thump back," said Harmon, grimly;
 
 GETTING EVEN. 307 
 
 " an' I don't believe in everybody's waitin' for every- 
 body else. You have a sprinkle right here; an' afore 
 it 's through it '11 be rainin' hard everywhere." 
 
 Britton made no reply, but beckoning to Harmon, 
 walked out of the beer hall. 
 
 " Britton 's the first chap to be making trouble and 
 the last to stand up to the rack when it comes to the 
 pinch," said Jaycox, after the two had gone. " If you 're 
 fools enough to let him stir you up as he 's trying to, 
 you '11 see him slide right out from under, and say he 
 told you not to go so fast or so far." 
 
 But this caution was coolly greeted, and with his 
 uncle, Cleland, whom he brought along to hearten him 
 up with beer, Jaycox went home. 
 
 As he parted with the old man, he said to him: 
 
 " Be sure and tell Adelaide that Miss Winifred Brew- 
 ster came home from Europe this week, and I hear 
 she 's not going to stay in Roxbury many days, but 
 will be off for "Washington."
 
 308 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 A LONG FRIENDSHIP ENDED. 
 
 WINIFRED, of course, Lad not been in JRoxbury 
 three hours before Dean Stratton made his appearance 
 and was warmly welcomed. 
 
 " I am afraid you thought I was taking my time 
 about calling on you," he said jestingly after their 
 first greetings were over. 
 
 "Perhaps, rather, I "was afraid you might take my 
 time," she replied, smiling at him. 
 
 " "Well, as a matter of fact, I came the moment I 
 heard you had arrived. Business before pleasure, I 
 said to myself, and set off at once." 
 
 " How do you tell them apart?" she asked with the 
 delightful laugh which always recalled to him the sun- 
 ny memories of their young days. 
 
 Dean blushed a little at this,"perhaps unintentional, 
 jest at his unenergetic prosecution of his profession. 
 
 " Well," said he rallying, " it is a pleasure to come 
 and see you, and your business to entertain those who 
 do so." 
 
 " I retired from that business a year ago," 
 
 " And you are going back to it at once." 
 
 " O, yes, I have had a year's vacation ; and I am
 
 A LONG FRIENDSHIP ENDED. 309 
 
 anxious to see father again. I stopped only to make 
 sure that everything was in order here." 
 
 " It seems dull enough, I take it, after three years 
 of excitement," said Dean jealously. 
 
 " O yes," she answered, a trifle piqued but a 
 good deal amused, at his tone, " excitement is abso- 
 lutely necessary to a giddy girl like me, and these 
 common-place country folks bore me intolerably after 
 the brilliant people 1 have been accustomed to." 
 
 And thereupon she smiled at both his and her own 
 absurdity. 
 
 " It is hard I know," he continued, "but yen will 
 have to put up with me here; there's really nothing 
 better, I assure you." 
 
 " O, you will do very well here" said she; " of course 
 it would bother me to dispose of you in Washington." 
 
 " I believe you really mean it," said Dean, with a 
 pretended frown. " You would think me shabby tind 
 put me in a corner to entertain the Congressman's 
 daughter from the Pottawatomie district, while you 
 were flirting with some jack-a-napes in epaulettes, or 
 some ass with a lot of trinkets strung outside of him." 
 
 " I would be obliged to make it agreeable for my 
 guests, certainly. The Pottawatomie girl would en- 
 joy herself in your company, and the jack-a-napes, 
 as you are pleased to call my charming acquaintance, 
 would enjoy himself in mine." 
 
 " Well, he can 't come here, I want him to under- 
 stand that," said Dean, in his boyish, hearty manner 
 of old. " I will make it very disagreeable for him." 
 
 " O, I have no doubt of it," she responded. " But
 
 310 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 that will give me a refreshing variety, for I have 
 met only charming and interesting people lately." 
 
 " You flatter me, Winny," he said, calling her by 
 the familiar name of their youth. " I would not 
 wonder if you were sorry I can't speak broken 
 English." 
 
 " O yes, I am," she answered with a sober face, but 
 eyes full of merriment. " It is so much more fascinat- 
 ing. If you could only bend it a little, even, it would 
 be better than nothing. There is the secretary of the 
 I think I won't tell you which legation. I used to 
 smatter politics and science to him just to hear him 
 pronounce the hard words. It was a comedy of 
 itself to hear him say devil-ope-ment. He was at 
 dinner one day where old Senator Simondson hap- 
 pened to be present. People suspect the senator's 
 literary education began pretty late in life. Well, 
 my friend, the secretary, went away early, and after 
 he had left, I overheard the senator say to his neigh- 
 bor, 'Yes, raythur talkative; but don't you think 
 he's jest a leetle off in his pro-noun-ciatiou?' " 
 
 And "Winifred laughed at the recollection, Dean 
 joining her with great heartiness. 
 
 " Seriously, Winny," he said, " I was a donkey to 
 feel so; but I thought 'she 's too proud to care for her 
 old friends ' that week I was there and you had gone 
 away after knowing I was to be there." 
 
 " No, Dean, you don't do yourself any injustice, 
 calling yourself stupid names. The letter came the 
 very day I left, and I was disappointed enough when 
 I got it afterward and knew I had missed your visit.
 
 A LONG FRIENDSHIP ENDED. 311 
 
 But I was not at all strong, and father insisted on my 
 going. You must think meanly of me, Dean, if you 
 suppose that under any circumstances I could forget 
 old friends." 
 
 " I owned up I was a donkey, to begin with," said 
 Dean, penitently, "and I was; but you see it was a 
 good while since I had seen you, and " 
 
 He stopped, for he noticed that she looked hurt. As 
 he watched her, pensive in the fire-light, her face soft- 
 ened and illuminated in the glow of the dancing flames, 
 the memories of the many pleasures and the little 
 griefs which their common childhood had known, 
 his life-long care for her, and his tender interest in her, 
 suddenly ripened into a burst of passionate yearning. 
 
 They were silent for a moment, and then, out of the 
 fullness of his heart; he spoke: 
 
 " I can't think of anybody 's caring for you, or of 
 your wanting anybody to care for you except me, dear 
 Winifred!" 
 
 She wanted to look up to him with the frank and 
 affectionate face she had always been wont to show 
 him; but this revelation, answering to one in her own 
 heart, disarmed her of the protecting friendship and 
 confidence whereby their intimate and unconstrained 
 intercourse had hitherto been possible. 
 
 Her deepening blushes and her down -cast eyes that 
 both hid and betrayed the fond glances she could not 
 wholly restrain, filled him with unspeakable delight at 
 these silent, sweet avowals of her heart. 
 
 " It seems as if I had always loved you, my dar- 
 ling," he said suddenly; "loved you all the more when
 
 312 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 I was afraid you did not care for me, but had grown 
 quite away from me. Winifred, darling, I have never 
 loved any one but you. "When you were away, when 
 I have been away, the absence has always saddened me; 
 the thought of seeing you again has always made my 
 heart beat faster with the gladness. I want the right 
 to care for you always as I did years ago, dear "VVinny ; 
 may I not have that right, dear, dear Winifred? " 
 
 She could not or did not speak; but she let her hand 
 fall with tender unconsciousness into his. Sinking 
 beside her, he drew her gently toward himself, whis- 
 pering once more: 
 
 "Darling! " 
 
 She answered so softly that it was lil^e the good- 
 night twitter of a nestling bird. Folding her in his 
 arms he sealed their long, long friendship with a fer- 
 vent kiss of passion on the lips he had not touched, 
 since they went frolicking to school together, many a 
 year before. 
 
 And though he had little doubt of his welcome after 
 that, he used to go very often, sometimes twice or 
 thrice a day, probably to assure himself that in the 
 meanwhile she had not forgotten him.
 
 SOCIAL EQUALITY. 31! 
 
 CHAPTEK XXX1Y. 
 
 SOCIAL EQUALITY. 
 
 THE day after Britton's return and his harangue at 
 the beer hall, was Sunday, but only the greater num- 
 ber of people in the streets marked the difference in 
 the aspect of Roxbury. 
 
 Britton and Harmon, after holding a conference, 
 which they had adjourned from the previous evening, 
 were sauntering down the street, when they met a 
 dainty figure well set off in an artistically fitted dress, 
 and stepping fastidiously over the damp spots where 
 the morning sun had melted the frost-nipped earth. 
 
 At sight of Britton, Winifred recalled the scene on 
 the bridge and the peril from which he had rescued her. 
 She recognized him by a slight but gracious inclina- 
 tion of the head, to which he responded by raising his 
 hat. His loutish companion, fancying that Britton 
 meant it as an insolent mockery of the manners of her 
 class, laughed loudly. 
 
 "What are you roaring at, you stupid? " asked Brit- 
 ton. 
 
 " To see you duckin' and uncoverin' like the priest 
 before his gimcracks in the church over there. I leave 
 all those monkey-shines to the big-bugs. You don't 
 get me ketchin' a big cold in my head."
 
 314: A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 "Why, you donkey, don't you see when I take off 
 my hat to one of their pretty women it shows I know 
 as much as they do about their tricks and their man- 
 ners." 
 
 "I don't see it in that way; but if that's the game 
 you 're after," said Harmon, leering and grinning, 
 "you're aimin' high." 
 
 "What I'm doing's my business," replied the 
 other. " I 've as much right to bow to her, or speak 
 to her, as a fellow who cheats his fellow-creatures by 
 lending money to 'em, or picks their pockets while 
 they're a-quarreling in law-suits." 
 
 "Damn it, man! don't put on airs with me! You 
 would n't dare speak to the gal! That glib tongue o' 
 yourn 'd make about ez much racket ez that ere calf's 
 a-makin' by a-wigglin' of his tail, and your head 'd 
 feel like Kaiser's beer now-a-days, with five cents' 
 worth o' froth and two cents' worth o' body." 
 
 " I '11 bet you the beer, I '11 speak to her next time I 
 see her." 
 
 The only answer was another roar and the accept- 
 ance of the bet. In order to carry out his bravado, 
 Britton lingered in the vicinity of Brewster's house 
 until her return from church, when, to the unspeaka- 
 able amazement of his companion, he audaciously 
 crossed the street and joined her. To do him justice, 
 his tall, muscular figure, well set off in coarse but 
 fashionable clothing, a clean-shaven face and carefully - 
 arranged moustache, gave him a varnished gentility 
 that afforded him many striking advantages. 
 
 She was surprised at his accosting her; but her
 
 SOCIAL EQUALITY. 315 
 
 semi-public life, bringing her into contact with " all 
 sorts and conditions of men" and women, her good 
 sense, and her quick sympathies put her at ease with ev- 
 erybody. Her dignity was unconscious, unsuspicious 
 and not quickly offended. She put the best possible 
 construction on people's motives, and was not easily 
 disturbed by any disregard of social usages not ill 
 meant. Aside, too, from her natural kind-hearted- 
 ness, she felt that her obligations to him, not wholly 
 discharged by her father's bank check, forbade her 
 resenting anything short of downright rudeness. 
 
 Brittou little knew, as he confessed to himself af- 
 terwards, "what a contract he had taken on his 
 hands;" for, from the moment she bade him "good 
 day," in a low, pleasant, but gently superior tone, his 
 tongue and head treacherously put themselves at 
 Harmon's service in fulfilling that prophet's prophecy. 
 
 She relieved the embarrassment by saying: 
 
 " It must be a pleasant change for you to get out into 
 the open air on a beautiful day like this. " 
 
 "Yes," he answered; which was all he could mus- 
 ter by way of reply. 
 
 " I should think the factory people would enjoy 
 Sunday, and stand by it as their day. " 
 
 He had talked about this, and was more familiar 
 with it. 
 
 "They do," he said; "they believe in a rest day; 
 not to go to church in, though;" he. added after a 
 pause. "We ought to have part of a Sunday, every 
 day. " 
 
 "Everybody ought to go to church," said Wini-
 
 316 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 fred. " It is bad for people to get the notion they can 
 do without it; even if they do not believe much in 
 what they hear and see there, they will probably think 
 of something better than their hard work and their 
 money-getting." 
 
 " It 's little that money -getting troubles -ws," said 
 Britton, with something of his surly and revolutionary 
 tone, that frightened her a little; "it's the not get- 
 ting it." 
 
 " Everything seems going wrong," she said plaint- 
 ively, to herself quite as much as to him; "I wish I 
 knew what the trouble is." 
 
 " We know," said Britton, in the tone that alarmed 
 lier. 
 
 He was conscious this was not the usual style of con- 
 versation between young gentlemen and ladies, but, 
 feeling more at home in it, he clung, in desperation, 
 to it. She, for her part, was try ing to devise a method 
 of dismissing him without wounding his vanity. 
 
 " I suppose you are out for a stroll over the hills," 
 she said. 
 
 " No; I don't care for the hills. I like to be with 
 people." 
 
 " But when you have seen them all the week, it 
 is a relief to get by one's self, is it not?" 
 
 He felt more at ease as he walked and talked, and 
 some of his native boldness returned as he replied: 
 
 " If I could see people like you, during the week, it 
 wouldn't be." 
 
 Her heart fluttered with tremor at his rude speech, 
 but without noticing it, she replied quietly:
 
 SOCIAL EQUALITY. 317 
 
 " I think it would be better for people wlio are shut 
 up in the close factories to get all the open air possi- 
 ble. It is healthful." 
 
 " I 'm healthy enough," he answered, with an awk- 
 ward laugh, lifting his shoulders after his fashion of 
 feeling- of his strength, as if he were an engineer test- 
 ing the pressure of the steam in the boiler. 
 
 "I mean the working people generally. I must 
 stop here," she said, opening the gate of a neighbor's, 
 bowing, and saying "good-day " to him, before he fair- 
 ly realized that she had taken leave of him. 
 
 He walked on with a feeling of disappointment. 
 He cursed something a good deal, but whether it was 
 her, himself or the constitution of tilings, he could 
 not tell exactly. He did not know it at the time, but 
 now he saw that, throughout the entire walk, she had 
 spoken of him and his class as something different 
 from herself and hers. And he had admitted it as a 
 matter of course, and all his theories about social 
 equality had been dissipated to the winds in that few 
 minutes' walk. It showed itself in the tone, the mode 
 of speech, the ease, the dignity, in contrast with his 
 embarrassment and feeling of inferiority. He cursed 
 the laws, whether native or artificial, that made it so ; 
 for he did not for a moment think there was anything 
 personal in it. He was as good as she and all her be- 
 longings. But she, he argued, had been taught to 
 look down on such as he, and it goaded him. ISTor 
 was he much relieved, when, on turning about and 
 retracing his steps a few minutes after, he saw Dean 
 Stratton now as well established in the practice of
 
 318 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 medicine, as could be expected of a young man who 
 was to inherit a fortune walking home with her. 
 They were chatting and laughing, and went gliding 
 along at their ease, in utter contrast with the embar- 
 rassed and almost gloomy march he had taken with 
 her. 
 
 " There 's a fellow, now," he growled, " who does n't 
 do an honest hour's work, and never will. He '11 spend 
 his days stuffing poison into people's carcasses, as old 
 Stevens stuffs dead owls and squirrels, with his arsenic, 
 and things. And yet because the snob 's been learned 
 to kill people when they 're not like to die naturally, 
 he 's coddled and petted; but because I do something 
 useful I 'in kicked out." 
 
 Had you told Britton that medical men had done 
 their share in adding to the usefulness of the human 
 race, by increasing the length of human life, and re- 
 ducing the number of days lost in sickness, he, shar- 
 ing an idea held even by persons more intelligent than 
 himself, would have said, " You 're crazy;" for this idea 
 assumes that only that work is really " useful " which 
 produces coarse material products perceptible to touch 
 and taste; while the higher cultivation of the facul- 
 ties through eye and ear, through art, literature, mu- 
 sic is unworthy of a " practical man's " attention.
 
 MR. BUNKER Y'S VICTORY. 319 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXY. 
 
 MR. BUNKERY'S VICTORY. 
 
 " You look anxious and worried, dear," said Wini- 
 fred to her lover, as they walked up the path to the 
 house. 
 
 " Do I ? Perhaps I am a little tired." 
 
 " Is that all? Are you sure?" 
 
 " O yes," he said, lightly, but she did not feel as- 
 sured. 
 
 "Tell me what it is, dear! I have a right, now, to 
 know all that concerns you." 
 
 " Well," he said, " I am anxious. I hear a great 
 many rumors of coming disturbances. It 's in the air; 
 but perhaps that is all it will ever amount to." 
 
 " What is it? Where does it come from? " 
 
 "From the operatives; chiefly from the idle dema- 
 gogues. There is a great deal of threatening talk; 
 and a great deal of suffering; the misery is the pow- 
 der, the talk is the match. Don't look frightened, my 
 darling; it will not come immediately; perhaps not 
 at all. If you were not going away so soon I would 
 not have said a word." 
 
 " But you will be here." 
 
 " O, I shall not be molested. I am like the cat
 
 320 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 a harmless and necessary animal. In fact, I am rather 
 popular amongst them. That is the way I come to 
 hear these things. What little practice I have had is 
 what I have given them free." 
 
 " "What can be done? What can / do? " she asked. 
 "I wish I knew. I am so sorry for them, Dean. 
 They talk as if they were weary and heavy-laden, and 
 I don't see why it is n't our duty, if we are Christians, 
 to make their yoke as easy, and their burden as light 
 as. possible. Maybe I am self-righteous, but it seems 
 to me that all that keeps me from doing anything 
 for them is not knowing what to do. They don't 
 want to be looked down upon nor talked to with an 
 air of superiority, and I am afraid we all go at it in 
 that way. Just before I saw you, I was talking 
 with " 
 
 "Excuse me for interrupting," said Dean, "but I 
 may forget it unless I speak of it now; there is some- 
 thing you can do; indeed I am sure of it. I have just 
 been to see a woman whose patience and heroism are 
 a marvel to me. And yet I can't help her. She is 
 perishing from disease, it is true, but starvation has 
 already done its perfect work. I was thinking per- 
 haps you could make her few remaining hours more 
 comfortable." 
 
 ' O, Dean, how dreadful ! Tell me what I can do, 
 and I will do it with all my heart and soul. I cannot 
 believe it is too late. I cannot feel reconciled to that." 
 
 " Now I think of it," he went on, "I believe you or 
 your family used to know her." 
 
 "Know her! who is it, dear? Tell me who it is !"
 
 MR. BUNKERY'S VICTORY. 321 
 
 "Mrs. Cleland." 
 
 "Mrs. Cleland ! Adelaide Cleland! Here in Kox- 
 bury ! Starving here ! How came she here? Why 
 didn 't I know ? Why didn 't she tell me ? Why didn 't 
 somebody let me know?" cried Winifred in great dis- 
 tress. "I can't forgive myself," she added as the 
 tears came into her eyes, and Dean tried vainly to 
 check her self-reproaches. "I will do all I can all that 
 remains to be done," she added softly, as if in the 
 presence of death. 
 
 Bidding Dean good-bye, and ordering the cook to 
 prepare beef tea, while with her own hands she packed 
 a basket of fruit, jellies, and wines, she had Eudolph 
 drive her to old Cleland's house. 
 
 As she went up the little path to the white cottage 
 she saw a strange face in the window, and, in response 
 to her knock, a woman opened the newly-painted 
 brown door. 
 
 "The nurse, probably," said Winifred to herself, for- 
 getting that people dying of starvation do not employ 
 nurses to soothe their last hours. 
 
 "How is Mrs. Cleland? " 
 
 "Well enough, for all I know," said the woman. 
 
 Winifred stared at her. There must be some mistake. 
 
 "Can I see her?" asked Winifred. 
 
 "For all I know," replied the woman dryly. 
 
 "Then I '11 step in and you will tell her please, that 
 Winifred Brewster would like to see her." 
 
 The woman still stood staring at her. 
 
 " There's no such person lives here," said she after a 
 pause. 
 
 21
 
 322 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 "Not live here! Where does she live ? Has she 
 gone away ? " 
 
 "For all I know. Fact is," she consented to explain, 
 "I didn 't come to this town till yesterday, an' I 
 don't know nobody. My son he lives over to Mal- 
 vern and he bought the place of a man who had a 
 mortgage on it; an' he paid too much for it, to my 
 thinkin', but he wanted me to come over and settle 
 the house for him." 
 
 " She 's a sweet creetur, anyway," said the woman, 
 as Winifred walked away, charmed by her manner 
 and her low, kind voice. 
 
 " Perhaps Rudolph will know," thought Winifred ; 
 but Rudolph did not know. She saw Jaycox, sitting 
 on his doorstep in his shirt-sleeves, smoking his pipe. 
 As she tripped across the road he advanced to meet her. 
 " Yes," -he said, " I know. I 've seen them sink slowly 
 out of sight, and I 've held out my hand to 'em, as 
 you might say, but it was little I could do for 'em- 
 I 'm nearly exhausted myself. They 've gone down in 
 spite of anything. It makes my heart ache," he said, 
 moving a little, as if that would relieve the pain. 
 " They had to leave the cottage. The old man intend- 
 ed selling it, or, at least, clearing off the mortgage as 
 soon as prices went up. He had several good offers, 
 cash in hand, by people who wanted to put their 
 property into solid land before the deluge came. 
 He'd a-jumped at any one of them the year before, 
 but, like a dozen other people I know, he said to him- 
 self, ' It 's going higher, and I '11 hold on.' And so he 
 did; and kept holding on, until it was too late."
 
 MR. BUNKERY'S VICTORY. 
 
 Winifred did not follow Jaycox very closely. She 
 understood only that the old man, who expected to 
 clear off his debt by paying for his place in depreci- 
 ated paper, was tempted by the " high prices," as he 
 called them that is, by the quantity of poor money 
 he could get for it to wait until the chance was 
 gone. He had repeated the mistake which he had 
 made years before, when he first bought it at war 
 prices, thinking its value would advance indefinitely. 
 But it was never quite high enough to induce him to 
 sell, and this was the end. 
 
 "Where do they live?" asked Winifred. 
 
 Jay cox pointed to a hovel twenty rods away, on a 
 side street. 
 
 "Rudolph, drive down Maple street to the old 
 shanty on the left ! As quickly as you can !" she 
 added, thinking ruefully of what she had not done for 
 Adelaide. 
 
 She sprang out, and knocked nervously. The door 
 seemed very little higher than her head; there was no 
 knob, or fastening, or the appearance of any threshold. 
 The holes in the floor had been covered with a few 
 pieces of board, which were gradually being taken up 
 to feed the feeble fire. Great gaps in the ceiling and 
 walls, where the plaster had fallen off, added to the 
 squalor and wretchedness of the hovel. A quilt across 
 one corner of the room offered the only seclusion 
 which Mrs. Cleland could command, since she needed 
 the little warmth there was to be got from the one 
 stove and the scant fuel. Abandoned rat holes were 
 visible in the wainscot. There was not food enough
 
 324: A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 to attract the former occupants back to their haunts. 
 
 These details, or the instant in which they were 
 noticed, seemed to her like a photograph of the in- 
 terior. A feeble voice bade her enter. The feebleness 
 was of the sort from which one never recovers. It 
 was mere articulation in the pipes of the voice, no 
 volume of air from the bellows in the chest. 
 
 Winifred stepped in quietly and went close to the 
 fading picture of the soldier's widow. She sat in an 
 old wooden rocking-chair, over which a tattered " com- 
 fortable " was thrown. The eyes looked out unnatur- 
 ally large and dark, from a bluish, transparent face. 
 Winifred had never seen any one so near the great 
 change. She trembled even while she tried to be 
 calm. She took the poor bones of the once hard-work- 
 ing right hand in hers, the tears streaming from her 
 eyes. Besides the rocking-chair there was only one 
 poor stool in the room. A rude wooden box stood 
 near the widow's feet, and Winifred, sitting down, 
 tried resolutely not to show how moved she was, but 
 to be the comforter she came to be. One of the thin 
 hands rested on her beautiful brown hair and the faint 
 voice said: 
 
 "Don 't ! Winifred, don 't ! You will make your- 
 self ill and nothing can make me better here." 
 
 She spoke Vith calmness, and a great dignity en- 
 wrapped her like a garment. The soul seemed al- 
 ready free within the worn-out shell. Kesistance had 
 ended. 
 
 "I had hoped to see you, Winifred. I had even 
 thought of sending some word to you. But I knew you
 
 MR.BUNKERY'S VICTORY. 325 
 
 were away for rest and health, and I would not trou- 
 ble you. I hope you are better." 
 
 Winifred waived any question about herself, though 
 she could not trust her voice to ask, had there been 
 anything left to ask, of the sufferer before her. At 
 last she said : 
 
 "What you must have suffered, poor Adelaide ! 
 How did it come about ? I never heard or knew till 
 half an hour ago." 
 
 A distressing cough shook the frame, sending a 
 shiver through it, as the tempest sometimes shook the 
 hovel. The spasm was so long and violent that Wini- 
 fred began to fear it was the only answer that would 
 ever come. But, apparently making no account of the 
 interruption, the dying woman went on. 
 
 "Yes, I have suffered, but it has seldom been more 
 than I have strength to bear, and it is over now. I 
 rebelled at first, but I have learned to submit at last." 
 
 There had come that blessed benumbing, that re- 
 prieve of pain which often comes on the approach of 
 death. Through hidden channels of mercy this ten- 
 der anodyne had been administered to her. 
 
 Death was kind, and its blow, like the stroke of the 
 lion's paw, stupified its victim into unconsciousness 
 of suffering. 
 
 Winifred offered her some of the delicacies in her 
 basket, and she went on, as her feebleness let her speak. 
 
 "Had any one told me that I should come here, to die ; 
 that father and Arthur would have to sleep there " 
 
 The cough came again, and again she waited pa- 
 tiently for strength to go on.
 
 326 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 " And that I should have to leave them here, I 
 would have expected a fierce resistance and an agony 
 of struggle; but I have not felt sa; that is, not of late. 
 I am still hoping for a little light on their future. 
 Perhaps you have brought it, Winifred, and then - 1 
 can go. " 
 
 " I have brought it. I will bring it. I will do 
 whatever you wish to help them. Trust me, though I 
 have not deserved to be trusted. I ought to have seen ; 
 I ought to have known; but I will not fail again. " 
 
 The last spark of unrest seemed to go out, and, in 
 spite of the cough, perfect peace fell upon her. Above 
 it's painful noise, Winifred heard faint taps outside, 
 and Arthur came in with a few sticks in his hands. 
 His eyes were still bright; his face fresh with com- 
 parative health. His mother had starved herself to 
 save him, but with such ingenious love, that, daily ac- 
 customed to her self-sacrifice, he was quite uncon- 
 scious of it. He went out again, after putting the 
 wood which, with long and painful toil, his feeble 
 strokes had split, into the small, spiteful stove, that, 
 unlike the church at Laodicea, was either cold or hot, 
 and hastened the sick woman's disease by the alternate 
 extremes of temperature. 
 
 " No, " continued Adelaide, " if I had foreseen it, I 
 could not have endured it; but it came gradually. I 
 hoped, hoped every day for work; but there was little 
 I could do. What can any one, sitting at a desk for 
 months or years, and taught a business that fits one for 
 nothing else, find to do when she is suddenly deprived 
 of it ? 1 tried sewing, but the pay was so small.
 
 MR. BUNKERY'S VICTORY. 327 
 
 Father sold the cow. Then the furniture went, piece 
 by piece all but Arthur's easel and his tools. Mr. 
 Trafton gave us credit until pension day. When I 
 went with the money, he said : ' I can't let you 
 have credit any more. I lose on it every time.' 
 The tears came into my eyes. He saw them and said: 
 1 I know how it is, but if I did it for all, I am sorry 
 for, it would ruin me. ' I knew this was true, and I 
 went away. But how dark it was, Winifred ! I 
 thought of my helpless boy looking up to me as I had 
 looked at Mr. Trafton. I prayed that God would take 
 us before that time; but He did not hear me, and I 
 have prayed only for patience since. " 
 
 Here the cough, like an impatient fiend, tormented 
 her, and would not come out of her. 
 
 " My poor boy, " she went on at last, " his loving 
 eyes begged me for food, and he was shivering with 
 the cold. One day he went to the closet where his 
 father's uniform hung. I kept it since it came home 
 with the ragged hole in the breast where where the 
 bullet killed him after it was all over, you know, 
 and peace had come. Arthur looked at it. It was thick 
 and warm. It seemed as if only looking at it made 
 him feel more comfortable. He did not say anything, 
 but glanced once or twice at me. I could not refuse 
 what he asked, and I could not grant it not at first. 
 But one day I took it down and cut off the buttons. 
 I ripped it, and recut it, and made it over, with the 
 tears falling upon it. At last it was done, and nay 
 darling has not suffered in that way since. Father 
 has helped all he could. I hoped that at some time
 
 328 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 my boy's talents would be recognized. I could die 
 happy if I thought lie would have a chance. " 
 
 " He will! he shall! " said Winifred. I will give 
 him every opportunity. He shall have masters and 
 schools, and a" fair chance." 
 
 "Thank you, Winifred! I see your kind mother 
 looking at me through your eyes. I will tell her how 
 good a daughter she left behind her." 
 
 Winifred bowed her head reverently upon her 
 hands, shedding tears of sympathy and self-reproach 
 that she had not proved worthier of her mother in 
 saving this stricken woman from a premature grave. 
 
 "Don't reproach yourself like that, dear Winifred! 
 There are hundreds needing help as much as we. It 
 is folly to hope that one person rather than another 
 will be helped." 
 
 She had become so enfeebled that she spoke with 
 great difficulty. Winifred sprang up and tenderly 
 caressed her, holding her head upon her shoulder and 
 smoothing her forehead. Then she took the thin 
 white face in her hands and softly kissed her with 
 great awe, as in the presence of one who was about to 
 be welcomed where earthly rank and power and cult- 
 ure and fashion had no'standing or recognition. Ad- 
 elaide closed her eyes and sank back. Winifred 
 poured a glass of wine and held it to the dying 
 woman's lips. She drank a little, and gasped, trying 
 to speak again. She beckoned toward the outer door. 
 Winifred ran and called the boy. His mother, bend- 
 ing toward him, clasped him in her almost lifeless 
 arms. She fell back once more, and Winifred thought
 
 MR. BUNKERY'S VICTORY. 320 
 
 she had fainted; but the light never shone in her eyes 
 again. 
 
 The old man came in with an armful of broken 
 boughs. Gaunt and haggard, he stood in the door- 
 way a moment, gazing at the scene. He knew what 
 it meant. He had been expecting it at any moment 
 % for weeks. He, too, was failing in strength. He had 
 told his daughter he wanted to go away somewhere 
 and be at rest forever. He took the dead woman's 
 hand affectionately in his and kissed her forehead. 
 
 "She was a good woman," said he with simple, 
 hearty honesty. 
 
 The same day on which she was laid by the side of 
 her husband, Mr. Bunkery's rival was sworn in as a 
 member of the United States Senate. Mr. Bunkery's 
 sacrifice of her happiness and life to the deity of the 
 "machine" had been unacceptable and vain. In a 
 less devout worshiper than Mr. Bunkery, his failure 
 would have brought a harrowing scepticism as to the 
 beneficence and omnipotence of his god. Even he may 
 have temporarily doubted, and felt tempted to insult 
 it or chop it to pieces. But his faith abounded, and he 
 vowed, on the next occasion, if it were possible, to pile 
 its altar still higher with victims, and to cry aloud and 
 spare not, if haply it might hear and bless him.
 
 330 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYI. 
 
 JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 LATE in the evening of the day of the funeral, at 
 which his daughter was so sincere a mourner, Presi- 
 dent Brewster was reading a foreign letter to an Amer- 
 ican newspaper, which, rather for his instruction than 
 his entertainment, had been marked and laid before 
 him. 
 
 It was an account of the exploits of his son, who, 
 as a consular agent, was found, at a very early date, to 
 hold strikingly original views upon the method of con- 
 ducting a diplomatic mission; but, when, during a 
 periodical drunken frolic, they culminated in his pub- 
 licly unveiling the women on the streets of an oriental 
 city, the scandal became no longer tolerable. 
 
 Brewster's embarrassment at conduct which he had 
 always felt a comfortable assurance in regarding as 
 peculiar to the heirs-apparent of effete despotisms, 
 nettled him beyond his usual patience and good humor; 
 but, on reading the following telegram from Clegg, at 
 Eoxbury, his irritation gave place to a far profounder 
 emotion : 
 
 " Mill set on fire and totally destroyed. Mob attacked your 
 house, but driven off. Winifred in critical condition. Dean Strat- 
 ton badly, but not dangerously, hurt in defending her."
 
 JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER. 331 
 
 As if not quite comprehending it, he read it over 
 again. Then, summoning Danforth, he was in a 
 short time whirling homeward by special train. At 
 daylight, he was reading in the morning papers full 
 accounts of the catastrophe. 
 
 As the lightning's flash brings blackness even in the 
 darkness, one blasting sentence blotted out the whole 
 broad page of gloomy chronicle. 
 
 " The physician fears that Miss Brewster will not recover from 
 the shock." 
 
 Tears, slowly gathering in the eyes of the imperious 
 and insolent man, overflowed like springs from the 
 heart of mountain rocks. 
 
 Not Jephthah, recalling, as his daughter came forth 
 to meet him, the rash vow which he had vowed, could, 
 in his victorious pride, have known bitterer anguish. 
 
 In the crowded and furious events which formed 
 the glaring picture of his life, he saw only that beloved 
 and delicate figure standing out from the riotous back- 
 ground, and, like a never- wearied sister-of- mercy, hov- 
 ering upon the edge of his ceaseless battle. 
 
 He saw her on that somber afternoon when, from a 
 new-made grave, he came back to the deserted house; 
 folded to his heart the nestling hostage a mother's 
 love had left him; and answered only with caresses 
 the torturing questions of her childish awe. He saw 
 her as she grew in daily value to him, and "every 
 lovely organ of her life became appareled in more 
 precious habit." He saw her as he took leave of her, 
 scarcely a year before; when for her own rest and. 
 comfort he sentenced her to an exile, which, to her
 
 332 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 meant buoyant pleasure, youthful joy, entertainment 
 for her tastes, enrichment of her experience; but 
 which, even in the midst of his struggle to keep what 
 he had won, and to save from ruin himself and his 
 fortunes, to him meant loneliness and bereavement; 
 hunger to his one absorbing love; frost to the one deli- 
 cate flower of his affection which, on the cold and 
 sterile heights of his self-seeking, had bloomed so long. 
 
 Her existence and her love had been the sweet and 
 tender theme running all through the warlike sym 
 phony of his career, tempering with its pure, clear 
 melody the harshness and clangor of the drum and 
 trumpet tumult wherein most of his life was spent. 
 
 Had he like Jephthah sacrificed to his greed of vic- 
 tory the treasure jrf his hearth and heart? 
 
 Now, distracted by anxiety until the tardy wheels 
 of the flying train seemed staying instead of speed- 
 ing his impatience to reach her; now, forgetting in his 
 grievous revery the minutes and the miles which 
 rushed almost concurrently by, he arrived at Roxbury. 
 
 His horses carried him at furious rate from the sta- 
 tion to the house, plunged through the gateway and 
 up the winding road. 
 
 Barely looking at the blackened and steaming ru- 
 ins of his mill, the broken fence, the trampled lawn, 
 the veranda bearing .yet the marks of violence, he 
 opened the door and entered his forlorn home. The 
 special physician he had summoned by telegraph was 
 already awaiting him in the library, and with him her 
 father went at once to Winifred's darkened chamber. 
 
 A wise man has said that the things which are most
 
 JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER. 333 
 
 vital to a mart's happiness are the events of his do- 
 mestic life; and a still greater authority has declared 
 that a man's life consisteth not in the abundance of 
 the things which he possesseth 
 
 The millionaire President of the great republic, 
 knowing that wealth and honor were worthless there, 
 humbly and reverently entered the room where, with 
 wide-stretched eyes that saw nothing, lay his sweet, 
 unconscious daughter. 
 
 It mattered little now, that even in the subdued 
 light of this dainty maiden's bower, there came a ra- 
 diance of rich, harmonious color, and gleams from 
 glass and metal adornments on bracket, wall and dress- 
 ing table; that even the bed, scarcely billowed by the 
 slender form, was of precious amaranth wood, a won- 
 der of delicacy and beauty. The room might have 
 been dingy, barren, squalid, for all that her surround- 
 ings could do to relieve the blight which the wild 
 terror of the night before had laid upon her. 
 
 The nurse, shaking herself out of her nap, arose 
 and came forward. The father, bending gently over 
 his daughter, called her name. His affection seemed 
 to untwist his rough features into a hint of resem- 
 blance to his own youth, and to his daughter's face. 
 
 "Winny." 
 
 The only response was a cold stare. 
 
 " Winifred," he plead, in tones fit to break a heart 
 of stone. 
 
 She answered with a low moan, and a slow roll of 
 the head from side to side. 
 
 The tears flowed down his face, and with a burst
 
 334 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 of mingled love and anguish, lie exclaimed, as if he 
 had even now quite lost her in the rayless, pathless 
 wilderness of death: 
 
 u Oh, she was very precious !" 
 
 "With one sudden bound, she was on the floor, and 
 apparently lifting a burden. 
 
 "Dean! Dean!" she cried; "speak to me! speak to 
 me, my darling. They say it was my father's fault, 
 but don 't believe them, dear; do not believe them! 
 Come, Dean, come! Dearest, don 't lie there! You '11 
 break my heart. You '11 break my heart if } T OU do not 
 speak to me. O, they have killed him," she cried; 
 " he has killed him, and I loved him so." 
 
 She fell helpless along the floor, whence she was 
 lifted to the bed again, and once more lay still, with 
 fixed yet pleading eyes. 
 
 A great agony convulsed her father as he stood in the 
 corner of the room, and a tearless sob escaped him. 
 
 The physician's report afforded little encouragement. 
 He ordered them to shear her pretty brown hair, and 
 frankly told the poor father that he might as well 
 go back to Washington and his work, for he could do 
 nothing, nothing for his daughter. It was a ques- 
 tion of time, of tender nursing, and, after that, even 
 of her reason. Her father watched for hours, but 
 there was no change . Occasionally she moaned ; occa- 
 sionally started in terror. " They're coming," she cried, 
 and rehearsed the tragedy of the previous night. 
 
 An urgent telegram summoned President Brewster 
 to the capital. His bitterest enemy would have pitied 
 him, so wide-shouldered, so vigorous in mind and
 
 JEPHTIIAirS DAUGHTER. 335 
 
 body parting with his daughter; an Atlas, who, 
 though he fancied he could lift the world, could not 
 lift the weight that was too heavy for the beloved life 
 before him. He gently kissed her, and more than 
 once tried to take his leave of her, so helpless there. 
 Then, drawing his hand across his brow and eyes, with 
 a motion which seemed to say, " lu> weakness," he 
 went, with head erect, out of the room. 
 
 A special train again shot through one sleeping 
 town after another, that night. Poor, tired Barney 
 Scully, busy coupling cars, said, bitterly, as it sped 
 along : 
 
 "It's the crame that belongs to such as them; the 
 skim milk 's too good for us."
 
 336 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 PLAYING WITH FIRE. 
 
 THE sun was going down upon that mild December 
 day as Arthur lingered, after the burial of his mother, 
 to take leave of his only inheritance the lot in which 
 lay the remains of his parents in the cemetery at 
 Roxbury. The lot was situated next the fence, and 
 enclosed by a thick hedge of arbor-vitce. The other 
 side of ^the fence ran a gravel road, that led into the 
 conn fry beyond. 
 
 He was on the point of departure, when he heard 
 footsteps crunching the gravel outside; and, looking 
 through the crannies of the hedge, he saw three or 
 four men, loitering in step but eager in talk. 
 
 " I 'in gettin' tired of waitin'," said a deep but im- 
 patient voice. " It 's all very well for him to say, wait. 
 He hain 't no wife not yet, anyhow," he added, with 
 a dismal grin, " nor young 'uns leastwise he doesn't 
 own 'em. If he 'd a dozen mouths eatin' a hole in a 
 bag o' flour, lie wouldn't w r ait. I don 't care a split 
 bobbin for the things he's waitin' for, anyhow. All 
 I cares for is plenty o' grub and plenty o' time to eat 
 it in, all the beer I kin get away with, and a go at fishin' 
 now and then."
 
 PLAYING WITH FIRE. 337 
 
 " He 's too much a swell hisself for me," said an- 
 other. " I hate 'em too much to have any sort o' 
 deaiin' with 'em, 'cept to hold their noses to the grind- 
 stone. They 've held mine to it,-ever sence I had one." 
 
 " I saw sutthin' a Sunday I never thought to a 
 saw, " said the other. 
 
 " Harmon 's allers seein' things " said tlie piping 
 voice of the faded little man. " He seed daylight 'fore 
 he uz born, 'f you '11 b 'leeve him." 
 
 " 'An you ain't seen it yit, whether they b 1'eeve you 
 or not," retorted Harmon. 
 
 " Come, take in your slack," said a third, " and let's 
 have what you saw a Sunday." 
 
 " Well, I saw him sidle right up to Brewster's gal 
 while she uz a walkin' along, and shoot that hat 'a 
 
 his'n, an' by fall into line, an' go waltzin' down 
 
 street with her, 'z'if he'd been cut oft' the same 
 piece." 
 
 " He 's no good " said the other, "let 's get to busi- 
 ness ! They 're all ready for it. Just fire 'em up an' 
 the rest on 'em '11 come in." 
 
 "What time '11 we begin? " 
 
 " "NYhat time '11 Donavan be ready? " 
 "He '11 get a dozen together at eight o'clock, an' it '11 
 be a goiu' by half-pas'." 
 
 " How 's the watchman?" 
 
 " All right. He was growlin' bad t'other night. 
 He says things is got so you can light a candle with 
 a dollar bill easier 'n you can buy one." 
 
 The group moved on and separated, and Arthur 
 heard no more. Then leaving the only abiding-place 
 22
 
 338 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 his father and mother could afford him, he went to 
 the new home which Winifred had provided for him. 
 After supper he called by appointment upon her, 
 and she outlined the plans which she had hurriedly 
 formed for him. He thanked her very gratefully, and 
 the hope and enthusiasm her proposed kindness ex- 
 cited, in a measure soothed his grief. As he was 
 taking leave of her something prompted him to say: 
 " Do you know anybody named Donovan? " 
 " I do not, 1 am sure. Is he somebody in Roxbury ? " 
 " O yes, he was talked about this afternoon in a 
 very strange and alarming way," he said, and then 
 having told her what he had overheard, went away. 
 
 These echoes of Dean's words set her trembling. 
 She hoped she would see Dean that evening after he 
 had returned from visiting a country patient. 
 
 Resolving to inform him or his father at the 
 earliest possible moment, she sat down by the table and 
 took up an open book that by chance was lying there. 
 It was not to her mind and she was about laying it 
 down again, when, by a coincidence which some call 
 accident, some, omen, her eye fell upon a passage 
 describing the treatment visited by the Paris mob 
 upon the condemned prisoners of the French revo- 
 lution. In spite of its repulsiveness, a certain fasci- 
 nation forced her to read it to the end: 
 
 " The doomed man is conducted into a howling sea at the outer 
 gate, forth under an arch of wild sabers, axes, and pikes, and 
 sinks hewn asunder. And another sinks, and another, and there 
 forms a piled heap of corpses, and the kennels begin to run red. 
 Fancy the yells of these men ; their faces of sweat and blood ; the 
 crueller shrieks of these women for there are women too ; and a 
 fellow mortal hurled, naked, into all! "
 
 PLAYING WITH FIRE. 339 
 
 Shuddering, as though awaking from a horrid 
 dream, she cast the book aside and took up another, in 
 order to shut out the terrible vision. She started to 
 her feet at the words of the breathless housekeeper. 
 
 "Winifred, Winifred, the mill 's a-fire! " 
 
 Winifred ran to the window of the library. The 
 flames were bursting through the roof, the building 
 ablaze from end to end. The lower floors had been 
 saturated with petroleum before Donavan began a 
 mad harangue to a dozen operatives, made reckless by 
 the whiskey with which he had been plying them all 
 the afternoon. 
 
 The rumors of pending trouble had, by their myste- 
 rious telegraphy, circulated among the vicious tramps, 
 and for two or three days, hoping for plunder, they 
 had been gathering in the neighborhood. As soon as 
 the fire broke out, they began their depredations in 
 the houses left vacant by the households that rushed 
 off to see it. Going boldly into the saloons they 
 helped themselves to liquor and were soon half mad 
 with it, some of them dancing in a kind of frenzy 
 about the burning mill. 
 
 "It '11 learn 'em to let up on the poor working-men." 
 "Sorry ole Brewster ain't here to see." "Wish he 
 was in it." "Wish it 'd burn all winter savebuyin' 
 coal." "It '11 be like the small-pox mightyketchin'. " 
 
 Though few would have dared commit the act 
 none perhaps, had they not been partly starved, and 
 then made combustible with liquor, as the mill floors 
 had been with kerosene, the majority of them sympa- 
 thized with it.
 
 340 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 The fire-engine came, but was useless. Britton was 
 ostentatiously playing a game of billiards. " The d d 
 fools! " he exclaimed, and took only a spectator's part 
 in the proceedings. 
 
 Winifred gazed at the flames devouring the accu- 
 mulations of many years of her father's labor. She 
 wondered if it would ruin him. 
 
 The rising wind suddenly swept in gusts down the 
 valley, blowing the fire toward the row of tenements and 
 boarding-houses occupied by the operatives. She 
 could see them bringing out the furniture from one; 
 then another was in flames; and a third; soon the row 
 was a mass of fire. In less than an hour hundreds 
 of people were homel ess. 
 
 She heard hoarse shouts. A small group broke from 
 the mass like a piece of ice in a current, and floated oft' 
 toward the house, the remainder, like the floe in the 
 wake of a drift, turning slowly in the same direction . 
 
 They came pouring through the gate or jumped 
 over and broke down the fence. At sight of their 
 figures in relief against the light of the burn ing build- 
 ings, her face grew ashen. At one moment, her heart 
 stopped beating; the next, it throbbed as if its pulsa- 
 tions were the whole of her existence. But there 
 was in it the courage of her father's. He could meet 
 mobs and subdue them. She would. 
 
 Now she could see their forms. The broad bands 
 of light upon the lawn, whitened by the falling snow, 
 were broken with fast-moving shadows. With their 
 excited faces lit by the blaze, and their bodies im- 
 mersed in deep shade, they seemed riding upon a cloud 
 of darkness.
 
 PLAYING WITH FIRE. 341 
 
 From them she had never had act or look of disre- 
 spect. She would ask them what they wanted, and, 
 in her father's name promise them relief. 
 
 They came on, crushing the shrubs and tramping 
 the snow into mud. 
 
 Tow she could see their gaunt faces rising one above 
 another; and, desperate with loss and their own dar- 
 ing, surging up to the veranda, drunken men and 
 boys, and, scattered here and there, a woman. 
 
 " Come out o' there, or we '11 fetch you out," some 
 cried with oaths; and others, with oaths also, echoed 
 it in maudlin voices. 
 
 "What right's he to a house, an' us not a roof to 
 our heads?" screamed a woman. 
 
 " He 'greed to burn it his own self," said a former 
 listener to one of the major's speeches. 
 
 As in a dream, Winifred opened the door, the light 
 flooding her fair face and brown hair. 
 
 " Houly Yairgin ! " exclaimed a voice, almost rever- 
 ently, as if she were a saint in a shrine. 
 
 The cries ceased as sbe stood there, still and calm in 
 the flickering blaze. Curiosity, alarm, excitement, 
 rather than the mob spirit, moved the mass of them, 
 and at the sight of her they stopped irresolute. But 
 one of the bolder cried: 
 
 "You must git out o' that, miss; we've come on 
 business." 
 
 So saying, and encouraged by a laugh, he with two 
 others mounted the steps. 
 
 "Go back!" she cried, "you have no business here." 
 
 "Sof'ly now, miss," said the speaker, whose prop-
 
 34:2 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 erty consisted of sucli portion of the soil as adhered 
 to him after a walk in the dust or the mud; "we've 
 los' everythin' by the fire, an' we 've come for th' in- 
 surance. We sha 'n't hurt nobody; not if they don't 
 show fight," he added, advancing toward her with a 
 rascally grin. 
 
 If, peradventure, she might catch sight of a friendly 
 face, she cast a beseeching glance at the crowd. 
 Though she fancied that one or two responded with a 
 look of sympathy, no one spoke or moved. 
 
 Then her courage gave way. She felt deserted, 
 helpless, lost. She turned to fly to the shelter of the 
 house, but a rough hand drew her to a loathsome 
 embrace. Her brain reeled with horror. She uttered 
 a piercing shriek. Her shell-like ears were torn and 
 bleeding, whence the ruffian wrenched the diamond 
 drops whose glistening in the fire-light attracted his 
 greed. She was faint and sick with the pain. 
 
 Suddenly the three intruders were, like so many 
 vermin, swept down the steps by the swing of a pow- 
 erful arm, which, as her limbs gave way, she felt 
 supporting her. 
 
 Glancing upward, at a face aglow with anger and 
 passion, she saw William Britton. 
 
 At this moment another man, pressing through the 
 crowd, rushed up and struck him a blow, exclaiming: 
 
 "Take your hands from her, you ruffian!" 
 
 With a cry of joy, she recognized the new-comer; 
 but, before she could speak, Britton withdrew his arm, 
 and, lifting Dean Stratton aboye his head, dashed him 
 violently upon the flagstone walk. The crowd shud-
 
 PLAYING WITH FIEE. 343 
 
 dered at the sickening thud with which he struck the 
 ground. 
 
 Winifred started forward, but fell apparently life- 
 less upon the floor, and Britton, bending over, raised 
 her gently up. 
 
 In the meantime the ruffians, climbing up at the 
 end of the veranda, had got between him and the 
 door, and, encumbered with his burden, he knew it 
 was useless to fight them. Taking her up like a child, 
 he passed through the crowd on the lawn and safely 
 reached the sidewalk. 
 
 Even in the midst of the tumult, his heart was fall 
 of passionate exultation over his possession of the 
 President's daughter. Her silken hair, loosened in 
 the struggle, softly swept his face. His arm clasped 
 her to his breast. Her head lay in unconscious con- 
 fidence upon his shoulder. He had never even touched 
 such chaste loveliness before, and to be thus encircling 
 it, to have it dependent upon him for shelter and pro- 
 tection, quite intoxicated him. 
 
 He stood still. Whither should he carry her? To 
 take her to friends or neighbors would be surrendering 
 her to the stronghold of society, from which he had 
 captured her. Should he carry her to his lodgings? 
 That would be only a temporary expedient. The night 
 train was due. He might fly with her to the seclusion 
 of a large city a plan possible only in the disorder 
 of the town. The thought of forcing her into mar- 
 riage by compromising her maiden blamelessness whis- 
 pered its baseness in his ear. 
 
 Whatever he did needed auickly doing; for the air
 
 344 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 was keen, and she was destitute of head-dress and 
 over-garuients. 
 
 As he stood irresolute, a shadow came between him 
 and the glow of the. fire, and a voice said, sternly but 
 calmly : 
 
 " Take Miss Winifred to my house ! My wife will 
 care for her." 
 
 Britton cast an angry glance at the speaker. This 
 fellow was always interfering with him. Were he 
 free, he would serve him as he had that Stratton. 
 
 " Mind your own business !" he replied, with an 
 oath. 
 
 "Do you hear?" said Jaycox, unmoved by his 
 wrath. " Has there not been enough of this? Do 
 you want to add another crime to this bad night's 
 work?" 
 
 " None o' your d d preaching," said Britton, turn- 
 ing on his heel. 
 
 Jaycox put out his hand. 
 
 "No more of this. I can get help. They've lost 
 confidence in you, and it would be an easy matter to 
 set them upon you. Come with me !" 
 
 He had taken oif his coat and thrown it upon her. 
 
 Conscious of his failure, Britton, in a surly mood, 
 followed Jaycox to his house. He laid her upon 
 the lounge, and, while the other summoned his wife, 
 stooped and kissed her, as she lay impassive and help- 
 less. 
 
 " We must go and put a stop to this horrid busi- 
 ness," said Jaycox, coming in and glancing at the 
 pale and apparently lifeless girl.
 
 PLAYING WITH FIRE. 345 
 
 "It is none of my business," said Britton, in a sur- 
 ly tone. 
 
 "Your talk of Saturday is known all over town, 
 and will be used in evidence against you. The best 
 thing possible for you now, is to make amends by 
 preventing this from going any further." 
 
 Britton, either seeing the force of this, or satisfied 
 with the measure of ruin that had been already 
 wrought, after a moment of hesitation, slowly arose 
 and followed his companion out. 
 
 A large crowd, more curious to know what would 
 happen next, than desirous of being responsible for 
 anything more, was aimlessly wandering over Brews- 
 ter's lawn. 
 
 Jaycox and Britton came up to a group of them 
 and the former said: 
 
 " We must stop this right here, at any cost, or all 
 its wickedness will be laid to us and the workino-. 
 
 O 
 
 men's cause. We have our wrongs, and they shall be 
 heard; but they never will be in the noise which these 
 greater wrongs, done to others, are sure to make." 
 
 A dozen or more at once volunteered. They needed 
 only a leader to marshal their hostility to outrages 
 committed in their name. They were unfriendly to 
 owners of property, but they were not criminals, nor 
 utterly reckless. 
 
 Arming themselves with the palings of the broken 
 fence, they entered the house. About twenty of the 
 ruffianly mob only one or two operatives among 
 them had been stripping it of all portable articles. 
 
 The leader, tall, ragged, uncombed, unclean; the
 
 34:6 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 scar of a hatchet-cut on one side of his face balancing 
 a streak of dirt on the other, was bedecking himself 
 like a savage. About his huge person he had wound, 
 like a scotch plaid, the gold-embroidered crimson 
 piano cover. Into his thicket of hair he had stuck 
 the peacock feathers of a dustbrush which he had 
 plucked for the purpose. His long legs, like those of 
 a Highlander in his kilt, protruded beneath a black 
 velvet overskirt of Winifred's. The lace window cur- 
 tains floated from his shoulders like a bridal veil. 
 With unerring instinct the wine-cellar had been dis- 
 covered, and this grotesque combination of Rob Roy 
 and Sitting Bull had filled with champagne a hand- 
 some vase, and, with it under his arm, was capering 
 about the room, singing "Little Brown Jug," and 
 whacking now and then, the heads of his comrades 
 with the hassocks and the sofa-pillows. 
 
 They had stuffed vases, clocks, statuettes, candelabras, 
 and other knick-knacks into pillow cases, and had 
 filled their pockets with the luxurious toys and trifles 
 to be found in such a home. 
 
 Then began a hunt for the silver, and their lead- 
 er had just proposed piling up the bedding, the 
 pictures and the furniture in the center of the floor, 
 and setting them on fire. This called out an energetic 
 protest from two or three women who had come in, 
 and who were opposed to the destruction of anything 
 likely to prove exchangeable at the pawn-shop, or or- 
 namental in the squalor of their homes. 
 
 Jaycox and his retinue entered just as this chieftain, 
 in spite of feminine protests, had begun the prepara- 
 tion of his bonfire.
 
 PLAYING WITH FIRE. 347 
 
 At sight of them he stopped his laughter, his grim- 
 aces and his capers, and put his hand upon a pistol 
 in his side-pocket. It became tangled in his toggery, 
 and, before he could free it, he lay prone upon the 
 floor. 
 
 Britton, seizing two others, held them until one of 
 his party brought him a stout picture- wire, with which 
 he bound them, and which, cutting them at every mo- 
 tion, forced them to lie quiet. The rest, being nat- 
 ural cowards, jumped from the windows or ran out of 
 the doors, stampeding the crowd outside. In a few 
 minutes the disordered house, the trampled lawn, and 
 the self-constituted police were the only traces of the 
 riot.
 
 34:8 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXXVIII. 
 
 THE ENEMY CONQUERS. 
 
 ON Brewster's return to the capital, there was no trace, 
 in face, or demeanor, of the sorrow which had eaten in- 
 to that iron temper. He was the great actor, coining 
 from some struggle of real grief and passion in private 
 life, to feign upon the stage fictitious tragedy, and 
 portray the passions of dramatic phantoms. He had 
 his part to play in that national drama, upon which 
 the curtain never goes down, and in which, whether 
 he be prepared for it or not; whether he can speak the 
 speech which is set down for him or not; whether or 
 not loss and pain torture him at every step and in 
 every gesture, each member of the company that have 
 their exits and their entrances in that stupendous 
 play, must promptly appear in his appointed role and 
 pronounce it as trippingly as may be upon the tongue. 
 
 And as the audience in the theatre knows not that 
 he who, on the stage is racking and exhausting every 
 resource to amuse or interest, may be enacting an 
 actual tragedy within, to which this outward seeming 
 is, for him, but dumb show and a dull mockery of his 
 woe; so the multitude who daily came in contact with 
 Brewster, parading still that all-sufficient and all-ab-
 
 THE ENEMY CONQUERS. 349 
 
 sorbing figure on the scene, caught no glimpse of the 
 picture which was ever before his eyes of that lonely 
 bed-chamber and the beloved life that lay withering 
 there. 
 
 The days went on, and no news of change, either for 
 the better or the worse, came to relieve the suspense, 
 lie made flying visits to his home, but they only ex- 
 aggerated his anxiety. Meanwhile a change, like the 
 even ing twilight, was creeping over him, which in dis- 
 tinguishing his demeanor of to-day from that of yester- 
 day, no one noted; but suddenly, even as one should 
 say " night has come," and all should recognize the fact, 
 somebody said " he is getting queer," and many others 
 echoed it. 
 
 He would sit for minutes dazed. Sometimes he 
 greeted his acquaintances with much heartiness as if 
 he had not seen them in months; but, with all his 
 cordiality, feebly and half-consciously shaking their 
 hands He occasionally used the wrong word, as 
 when he talked of the executive " deportment. " He 
 no longer walked boldly and solidly, but put one foot 
 cautiously forward, as if he were not quite sure of his 
 ground. Somebody else said he would never be the 
 same man again. 
 
 On the receipt of certain foreign dispatches, he 
 proved this to be a mistake. He was, once more, the 
 vigorous, burly politician, and in favor of a foreign war. 
 He had brought to the cabinet meeting the minutes 
 of a message he proposed sending to Congress. His 
 paper bristled with his usual insolence in bold Saxon 
 speech. He urged, privately, the adoption of a war
 
 350 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 policy to rescue the country from its discontent, heat 
 its patriotism, stimulate its business, and destroy all 
 sectional prejudices. He proposed the immediate 
 seizure of Canada, the invasion of Mexico, and, before 
 the affair was finished, the stealing of Cuba. He 
 browbeat into silence one or two of his Cabinet, who 
 timidly questioned the wisdom of the plan, and, as- 
 suming that they had'unanimou sly assented, omitting, 
 indeed, to ask their individual opinions, he dismissed 
 the conference. In brief, as one of his Cabinet secre- 
 taries remarked, he was himself again. 
 
 The next morning, contrary to the punctual habits 
 whereby he accomplished so much, he did not, at ex- 
 actly half-past seven, appear in the breakfast-room. 
 Danforth waited a few minutes, and then sent a serv- 
 ant to arouse him. The servant knocked at his bed- 
 room door, and, returning, said : " He is not awake." 
 
 " His troubles are telling on him ; he must be lying 
 awake nights, to sleep so late," thought Danforth to 
 himself. 
 
 Eight o'clock came, and he was still asleep. At 
 half-past, fearing a rebuke for not awaking him, Dan- 
 forth himself went to the room, and, on getting no 
 response, turned the handle softly, and pushed open the 
 door. The President had gone out. 
 
 " He may be taking a walk," said Danforth to him- 
 self, finishing his breakfast, "though he generally de- 
 tests exercise before breakfast." 
 
 The President not appearing, he betook himself to 
 the office. The gas-light was still burning. In order 
 to have a quiet hour to himself, Brewster had arisen
 
 THE ENEMY CONQUERS. 351 
 
 before daylight, and was still in the midst of his writ- 
 ing; for he had just finished a sentence, and, pen in 
 hand, was sitting upright in his chair, mentally fram- 
 ing his next thought in appropriate words. His sec- 
 retary's intrusion, and his " Good morning ! Mr. 
 President," did not rouse him from the intense reflec- 
 tion he was giving to his message, urging upon Con- 
 gress a declaration of war. 
 
 Lawrence, on approaching him, discovered the reason 
 of his silence. Overcome by loss of sleep, and the 
 fatigue of his early work, he had fallen into slumber 
 as calm as an infant's. His face betrayed scarce a trace 
 of the anxieties and passions that had swept across it, 
 even as gales sweep across a mountain lake, and leave 
 it placid beneath the smiling skies. 
 
 Hesitating to disturb this profound and apparently 
 much-needed sleep, Danforth looked at him more 
 closely. Then he put his hand gently upon the broad, 
 full forehead. It was marble. He held a hand-glass 
 to the mouth. No breath dimmed the surface. He 
 was so fascinated by the finer look in-the countenance, 
 that he stood gazing at him with a kind of son-like 
 pride in the powerful head and face which death had 
 chastened and softened into antique sculpture. Even 
 while he despised his methods and himself for being 
 the tool of them, Danforth had truly loved the man 
 for his long and fatherly kindness to him; and stand- 
 ing there, thinking of their unbroken years of pleas- 
 ant intercourse, unmarred by serious reproof from 
 one, or disobedience and neglect on the part of the 
 other, he forgot all that he detested. He raised the
 
 352 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 cold hand to his lips and deferentially kissed it, his 
 eyes filling with tears as he realized that the end had 
 come. 
 
 Fascinated by his conscious possession of a secret 
 which, once published, would make the ears of all the 
 world to tingle, he felt tempted to remain. N^ow he 
 was its sole custodian. It was as if the confidence 
 which the old man had always placed in him was 
 maintained until this very latest moment, and to his 
 exclusive knowledge of his chieftain's daring methods 
 of startling mankind during his life, was committed 
 this equally important tidings of his sudden death. 
 When he should step to the door yonder, it would no 
 longer be all his own ; in less than an hour he would be 
 sharing it witk the whirling globe. It would be 
 known in kings' palaces, and buzzed about in every 
 market-place. Sneering slightly at the childish ex- 
 ultation which this imaginary importance had excited 
 in him, and then, walking softly and sadly out of the 
 room, he announced the President's death, and gave 
 the orders which the occasion required. 
 
 The body of the dead President, with eight or ten 
 car-loads of officials and acquaintances, arrived atRox- 
 bury on the midnight train. For hours, patient thou- 
 sands filled the streets leading to the railroad, and thou- 
 sands more, motionless, and, if not wholly dumb like 
 him they waited for, only murmuring their thoughts 
 to one another, were swallowed up in the chasm of 
 the dark, and packed so close into the open space about 
 the station, that the police and the military found it 
 difficult to open a path for the coffin and its escort.
 
 THE ENEMY CONQUERS. 353 
 
 For the first time, the still principal personage there 
 could not make a way for himself amongst the popu- 
 lace. 
 
 A solemn dirge smote the midnight air, and with 
 its wail, waked from their sleep, into troubled con- 
 sciousness, those who were not in the streets the chil- 
 dren, the aged, and the sick. A choir of German sing- 
 ers chanted a funeral hymn as the slow-paced throng 
 passed on to the town-hall, in the corridor of which, 
 awaiting the morrow's services, the remains were 
 placed; and then the plaintive song died away into a 
 faint refrain which seemed to sob itself to sleep and 
 silence in the congenial darkness. 
 
 Save for four sentinels in uniform, the ex-President 
 lay alone, distinguishable only by that last, rude, ill- 
 fitting garment which, even though it be of rosewood 
 and of satin, feeds not the wearer's vanity, nor, if of 
 pine and fustian, shames his pride. The dim lights 
 above painted, with their inky shadows, deeper tints 
 upon the rich black velvet of that somber tunic in 
 which custom arrays the retinue of captives who are 
 swept along in the ceasless triumph of Death, the 
 conquerer; while their feeble rays, unable to reach the 
 groined roof of the hall, seemed w r ith flickering fin- 
 gers to beckon to the gloom that crouched behind the 
 lofty arches, and to invite its mute and dusky presence 
 to share their solemn vigils around the catafalque be- 
 low. 
 
 Early with the morning sun came baskets and boxes 
 of floral decorations, crosses, crowns, stars, sickles, 
 and wreaths, of camelias and Marshal Neil rosebuds; of 
 - 23
 
 354 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 tuberoses, of wbeaten sheaves, and of evergreens; while 
 streamers of red, white, and blue, interwoven with ricli 
 crape, surrounded, surmounted, and overhung the 
 coffin. Its velvet richness was heightened by the 
 gleam of its silver ornaments. A glass plate partially 
 covered it, through which the dead could be seen by 
 the living, who, from sunrise until noon, marched by 
 in unbroken procession. 
 
 Then, accompanied by the military guard of honor 
 that in a hollow square had been drawn up about the 
 bier, the ex-President was borne to the handsome 
 stone Gothic church in whose erection he had liberally 
 aided; into whose treasury he annually and punctu- 
 ally paid a generous pew-rent for the spread of the 
 gospel; and two of whose illuminated windows he had 
 contributed as memorials of his beloved wife and de- 
 ceased brother. For Brewster had remembered his 
 Creator in the days of his youth, before the evil days 
 of business and politics had come to engross him in 
 the creation of his own little world of wealth and in- 
 fluence, and in the later years, it is to be feared, 
 had forgotten Him, so far, at least, as to think that He 
 had forgotten Brewster, and was taking no note of 
 his schemes and his conduct. " With pure heart and 
 humble voice," Winifred, however, had worshiped 
 there, and the coffin rested just opposite her pew. The 
 pew w r as draped in black, and, by her absence rather 
 than by his, spoke more eloquently of the desolation 
 that had come upon that household than the preacher 
 could possibly do, hard as he might strive. 
 
 The requiem was played, the funeral hymn was
 
 THE ENEMY CONQUERS. 355 
 
 sung, and the preacher, rising and reading a solemn 
 litany which he had specially compiled from the 
 Scriptures, began his discourse with a quotation from 
 one of the prophets, making, as he did so, a slight 
 change in the original text. 
 
 f'The dead from beneath are stirred up for thee, 
 even all the chief ones of the earth. All they shall 
 speak and say unto thee. Art thou also become weak 
 as we? Art thou become like unto us?" 
 
 O, impudent, sly, and mighty Death! to play so 
 sorry a trick upon the great and eminent man that 
 now lies helpless before us; creeping silently up be- 
 hind him, impolitely looking- over his shoulder, and 
 putting a full and final stop to his martial sentences 
 which, at the expense of two combatting nations 
 might have swollen the census of thy domain! have 
 added a new province to thy realm ! O, autocrat of an 
 empire " whose population below the surface*of the 
 earth far exceeds that of the nations above it. " 
 
 Dost thou take .this revenge upon " smart men, " be- 
 cause they act as if thou existed not in all this uni- 
 verse? Dost thou tire of their insolence at last, and, 
 with scarce a warning, set their ears to ringing and 
 their heads to whirling, glaze their eyes, snap their 
 thread of life, and lay them at thy feet a mass of 
 phosphates and of gases'? 
 
 It would thus appear. For until Death smites 
 them and hurries them beyond the bourne whence 
 they have never yet been " smart " enough to return, 
 do they abate a tittle of their pretensions, an atom of 
 their ambition, or a note of their defiance to all the 
 powers in the heavens above, or the earth beneath.
 
 356 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 What a stare of surprise and bewilderment he must 
 have cast about him, if he waked in a world where his 
 education in this one proved to be quite worthless! 
 Where he found that like an idle schoolboy he had 
 been wasting his time in stupid pranks or useless 
 study! Where none, except in the discharge of pub- 
 lic duty, cares for an office! Where no one " hurrahs 
 for the party " when its leaders misbehave; where no 
 one supports an unworthy man, because he is a " work- 
 er;" where there is nothing to "manage "and no 
 ' boys " ready to " make it hot" for the other side! 
 
 If there be such a land, which few politicians be- 
 lieve, he will have to sit away down at the foot of the 
 class and begin his new career by learning the very 
 alphabet of morals. 
 
 " God would think twice before damning a person 
 of your grace's rank," said the courtier to the French 
 nobleman, and doubtless those of our politicians who 
 believe in a God cannot imagine his ever humiliating 
 them by casting contempt upon their accomplishments 
 in the art of government. It is possible, indeed, that, 
 on their arrival there, they contemplate suggesting 
 some improvements in the divine administration 
 itself.
 
 THE END. 357 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXIX. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 SUBSTANTIALLY this, but clothed in brave and elo- 
 quent speech, the preacher might, could, or should 
 have said to the people gathered in that church. There 
 were present there some of the most distinguished 
 party leaders in the land many of them striving for 
 the success this dead man had striven for; and, ad- 
 miring his success, were more envious of his victory 
 than shocked at his means of winning it. 
 
 In the train, as they rode along, in the hotels, this 
 day, and on their way to the church, his most eminent 
 rivals or their representatives had already begun "fig- 
 uring " for the succession. They whispered in public 
 places, and talked in low tones in the corners, or in 
 their bedrooms at the hotels. The general sense of 
 relief which his departure occasioned to his numerous 
 heirs-presumptive, but not yet apparent, was summed 
 up in Mr. Bunkery's words: 
 
 " There '11 be no second or third term nonsense to 
 bother us, that 's one comfort." 
 
 " The old man managed to bring things about pret- 
 ty much as he calculated them," said Eodney; "but I 
 think this affair was not down on the bills."
 
 358 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 These discussions were temporarily interrupted by 
 the opening of the funeral services. 
 
 Seldom before had an occasion so rare and so full of 
 fruitful possibilities fallen to the prosperous lot of the 
 Rev. Dr. Underwood. 
 
 His down-sittings and his up-risings, his going-out 
 and his coming-in before the Lord, had been warmed 
 and softened by the luxuries of a city pastorate, a rich 
 congregation, and crowded and admiring audiences. 
 In spite of these temptations, however, he had never 
 faltered in rebuking the sins of the rich and the great, 
 who lived in other climes and other times. He felt 
 most keenly the iniquities of the Jews, of poor and 
 humble sinners, of the heathen denied the privileges 
 of the gospel. He did not spare even those of this 
 age and country, who accumulate unrighteous wealth, 
 and diffused throughout his congregation a comforta- 
 ble abhorrence of the trespasses of California nabobs 
 and Wall Street operators, who, as it happened, owned 
 no pews in his sanctuary, and lacked the benefit of his 
 teachings. He had his views, too, about the brutal 
 statesmanship of Bismark, the tricky politics of Bea- 
 consfield, and the stupid ambition of MacMahon ; but 
 the two chief 'perils he dreaded for his own country, 
 were the influence of the Pope and the undermining 
 of our institutions by slandering our public men; 
 meaning by "our public men," the leaders of his 
 party. 
 
 The Eev. Dr. Underwood had always felt an admira- 
 tion for Brewster, and had by several years anticipated 
 the National Convention in nominating him for the
 
 THE EXD. 359 
 
 presidency. When he himself was subsequently a 
 candidate for the chaplaincy in the House, Brewster 
 was his principal champion, and conspicuous in pro- 
 curing him that situation; but it was probably total 
 depravity which led Senator Joslyn to say that, when- 
 ever any of Brewster's bills were pending, Chaplain 
 Underwood always besieged the throne of grace with 
 additional fervor, praying the Almighty to open the 
 eyes of His servants, that they might do justice and 
 judgment, and so find favor in His sight; and that 
 whenever those bills passed, the reverend gentleman re-- 
 turned heartfelt thanks that their minds had been en- 
 lightened, and wisdom given them from on high to 
 decide aright. 
 
 In testifying his devotion to Brewster, Dr. Under- 
 wood was guilty of no hypocrisy. It was his misfortune, 
 not his fault, that one of his spiritual eyes was de- 
 fective and that when evil approached him on his 
 blind side, he, from the very necessity of the case, 
 could not perceive it. He was not a man to betray 
 his Master for a paltry and sordid handful of silver. 
 In order to touch hin>, the temptation needed to be 
 disguised in wrappings of patriotism, offeree of char- 
 acter, of success, of generosity, and half a dozen other 
 envelopes of worth and virtue. 
 
 Such, very briefly, were the Rev. Dr. Underwood's 
 qualifications for the office of orator and oracle at the 
 ex-President's funeral. 
 
 "This fallen giant," he began by saying, "once moved 
 erect amongst you. You have seen him in these streets, you have 
 spoken with him in his home, and he with you, in yours. You
 
 360 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 will carry hence that imige of himself which Death has left you, 
 and lay it by the side of his kindred. Though the nation was al- 
 ways bidding him come up higher until he reached the place of 
 honor which it reserves for those deemed worthy of its omnipotent 
 choice, yet he never forgot his home; and belonging, as he did, to 
 this congregation, it is peculiarly fitting here to crown him with a 
 wreath of remembrance. 11 
 
 It required skillful management on the part of those 
 who had scarcely seen Brewster in church for twenty 
 years, to control the feelings aroused by this tribute 
 to his piety. This, with the sensation caused by the 
 reference to Brewster as the choice of the people, ex- 
 cited an audible rustle all over the house. 
 
 "A life so crowded forbids me in the short time allotted, to do 
 him justice, and to furnish that key to his character which his 
 success calls for. It would require volumes to fully tell the bead- 
 roll of his achievments. Happily in this presence it is needless. 
 He has made a mark which will last forever. His foot-prints on 
 the sands of time are not likely soon to be washed away by the 
 waves of oblivion. Governor, Senator, President! What remain- 
 ed in tha*^ life so full of success but to be gathered like a shock of 
 corn fully ripe. 
 
 "He was a zealous party man; some have even said that he was 
 a partisan and he has been charged with violent and vindictive 
 feeling toward his political opponents.* 1 
 
 This mild suggestion that Brewster was by " some " 
 suspected of partisanship, and that others went so far 
 as to charge him with violence in the expression of his 
 political feelings, might, but for the scene and occa- 
 sion, have been mistaken for sarcasm; but the preach- 
 er gave no hint of it 
 
 "He fought opinions which warred against h'e convictions, and 
 raising the 'black flag 1 announced 'no quarter.' But this does 
 not prove that he was malicious or vindictive toward misguid- 
 ed men. ''
 
 THE END. 361 
 
 There were those who conld not help thinking it a 
 doubtful compliment to compare Brewsterto a pirate, 
 and his political conflicts to piracy; but canst thou 
 draw out leviathan with a hook, bind the sweet influ- 
 ences of the Pleiades, loose the bands of Orion, or set 
 metes and bounds to the funeral oration? 
 
 "Though he had no training but that afforded in the New En- 
 gland common school and academy, yet his faculty of mastering 
 his own vigorous Saxon tongue; of making those around him un- 
 derstand what he said, and know what he meant; of handling all 
 questions with his bare and sturdy hands; of talking with such 
 simplicity that every adjective, every image, every mode of thought, 
 perplexed nobody who heard him this was his art ; this was his 
 power. He never chilled or blunted the force of his style by pol- 
 ishing it to pleasing periods of soft, smooth words." 
 
 And those who heard or read the preacher's praise, and 
 recalled the hard names which, in the course of his long 
 and useful career, Brewster had lavished upon those 
 differing from him, freely assented to this part, of 
 the eulogy. They, at least, never had any difficulty 
 in understanding his " vigorous Saxon." 
 
 " Of course there are scribes on the press and Pharisees in the 
 parties, who ask and expect something like perfection in our pub- 
 lic men, and who, when they find spots and blemishes in them, 
 stand aloof and say with self-righteous scorn : ' I am holier than 
 thou.' To these flabby and fastidious temperaments the rugged 
 and shaggy manhood of this sfalwart masterpiece was a perpetual 
 irritation and offense. In their super-nice and fantastical micro- 
 scopes, they overlook the sterling fiber of such a nature as his, 
 and call him '.an unmannerly knave for bringing his slovenly and 
 unhandsome ' politics ' betwixt the wind ' and their sham nobility. 
 Consider this! that when greed has held out golden opportunity, 
 and asked conscience and moral sense to be 'dumb, and solicited 
 the loan of great names to schemes which would put money in 
 the purse, and that many came from the test smutched with the
 
 362 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 finger-marks of dishonest schemes, this man was one of the few 
 who never took ajjribe, nor put his name upon Satan's pay-roll." 
 
 And some of the audience thought: " Dear me ! 
 Why should he? He was already worth a million of 
 dollars!" 
 
 "This is no common occasion," he continued, "on which so 
 mighty a pillar of state has fallen. It is a calamity not to be 
 measured by ordinary events, and is as wide and as broad as the 
 land itself. In his disinterested work for his country he knew not 
 how to spare himself. When he was smitten, his every nerve was 
 tense with patriotism, every throb of his heart beat full and strong 
 for the land he loved so well. His country first, his party next, 
 himself last, this was the grand order and gradation of his loy- 
 alty. And though no assassin's bullet slew him in the flush of his 
 greatness, yet who shall say that, giving himself without reserve 
 to his country, he did not sacrifice life itself on the altar of his own 
 patriotism? It was in the discharge of public duty that death 
 found him, and took him from his work. But though he is gone, 
 let not your hearts be troubled ! God still lives, and he will raise 
 up another leader for this afflicted people.'' 
 
 With these words he ceased speaking. And while 
 each Senator, and Representative, and Governor, and 
 ex-Governor present calmed his troubled heart, and 
 mourned his sad loss, and wondered if Providence 
 would raise him up to comfort the bereaved nation, 
 and was " figuring " out the probabilities of such an in- 
 terposition in its behalf, another hymn was sung, the 
 coffin was borne to the hearse, and the long line of 
 carriages began wending its way to the grave. 
 
 As Mr. Israel Stratton passed out of the door, he 
 felt a slight pressure on his arm, and, looking around, 
 saw Leonard Carroll. 
 
 "Come in my carriage," said the old gentleman.
 
 THE END. 363 
 
 piloting him through the fresh, heavy- falling snow to 
 his coupe standing at a distant corner. 
 
 The procession formed slowly, as processions always 
 do, and while awaiting their turn to fall into line, the 
 two gentlemen sat talking. 
 
 " How death does sweep away all distinctions," said 
 Carroll; "it is a radical communist. It puts the good 
 man on a level with the bad one. Once they are 
 fairly in their coffins, you. can not tell them apart." 
 
 Mr. Stratton smiled briefly, and said : " Yes, there 's 
 a good deal more to be got out of the public obitu- 
 ary than is generally supposed. / kept thinking 
 how our clerical friend was disproving the definition 
 of gratitude a lively sense of favors yet to come." 
 
 " Perhaps he has faith that our old friend Brewster 
 is to have as much influence elsewhere as he did here," 
 replied Carroll; "however,! feel a certain consolation 
 for the loss of such statesmen, in the thought that they 
 are slowly, and at their appointed time, passing away; 
 though I suppose the race itself won't die out." 
 
 "Not immediately," said Mr. Stratton; " they are 
 ' battle-born,' as the saying is war-begotten, and will 
 last awhile longer. They belong to a past age. They 
 drive the party coach and crack the party whip, but 
 one day they will wake up to find their vehicles out 
 -of date, more scientific methods of government lo- 
 comotion in vogue, and their occupation gone." 
 
 " But I see no signs of a -new party or the disap- 
 pearance of the old parties," said Carroll. 
 
 " We want no new parties," said Mr. Stratton, em- 
 phatically, " the old ones supply every need. I believe
 
 364 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 in parties, and, to some extent, in the party machinery. 
 Parties are fire and water, bitter enemies, but making 
 the steam which keeps the nation moving. The mass 
 of people must belong to parties; they will belong to 
 parties, and go wherever they are led. What we need, 
 and what we are to have, is a body of independent 
 voters, owing nothing to either party, and, except as 
 they govern with moderation or with violence, fair- 
 ly or corruptly, caring nothing for them. These vo- 
 ters will be a strong, unobtrusive, judicial body, that 
 the party in power will be perfectly sure to hear from, 
 whenever it perverts the government into lottery priz- 
 es for a few of its lucky ticket-holders, or becomes 
 extravagant, or neglectful, or obnoxious to men who 
 think a wise and honest government superior to a par- 
 ty triumph. They will free their minds of cant, and 
 refuse to believe this government so much a failure 
 that either half of its voting millions is bent on its 
 destruction." 
 
 "I believe," said Carroll; "there is growing up just 
 such a body of men who are thinking of these things 
 and are crystalizing more and more every year." 
 
 " No doubt of it, no doubt of it at all," said Mr. 
 Stratton ; " what is the use of getting disgusted, unless 
 something practical comes of it? We are going to be 
 a strong, wise nation, before we consent to expire. 
 I believe in the country and its future. I am an old 
 man, and old men are apt to be over-impressed with 
 the comparative virtue of the days when they had the 
 direction of affairs; but I see improvement; especially 
 in this disposition on the part of a large class of men
 
 THE END. 365 
 
 to make their influence felt in politics, without weak- 
 ening themselves by asking or granting any favors. 
 Like all sovereigns, the sovereign people needs guid- 
 ance, and the men I speak of are destined to become 
 the power behind the throne, greater than the throne 
 itself. They, and they only, will introduce perma- 
 nent reforms. This revolt will call for eloquence, 
 enthusiasm and courage, though that will not be 
 afraid of sneers and abuse from party men who will 
 die hard. You can not, without a desperate strug- 
 gle, take away from a large body of men their means 
 of livelihood, whether it be an established church, or 
 an established system of seeking and holding office. 
 It will need the best intellect of the country, the wit, 
 the oratory, the keenness, the common sense, of our 
 best men. For instance," said Mr. Stratton, looking sly- 
 ly at Carroll; "if the same talent which points out 
 so acutely the Mistakes of the Patriarchs could be 
 got to point out our mistakes, which are probably 
 quite as serious as those the patriarchs made, " 
 
 " O I must beg of you," said Carroll, stammering and 
 laughing a little, " that is hardly fair. That was a 
 youthful folly. I have outgrown that sort of thing, 
 I hope. Besides," he added, by way of further apol- 
 ogy* " it was really very profitable." 
 
 " All I mean is," said Mr. Stratton, " that there is 
 enough intellect, in the pulpit and out of it, to provide 
 us with an entire new code of political morals, and to 
 make it impossible for men like him at the head of 
 this procession to furnish such a text for such a ser- 
 mon."
 
 366 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 They were now passing Brews ter's house, with the 
 ruins of the mill on the right. A long silence en- 
 sued. 
 
 " Poor girl!" said Carroll, with a pang of remem- 
 brance; "do you know she always seemed to me a 
 changeling. As his daughter, I could never fairly ac- 
 count for her." 
 
 " O, she was genuine in every sense of the word," 
 said Mr. S.tratton, softly; " I hope," he added, in kind, 
 paternal tones, " she will yet be as near as she is dear 
 to me." 
 
 "How is she?" asked Carroll, slowly, after another 
 silence, and an inner struggle which Mr. Stratton had 
 unconsciously incited. 
 
 Better." 
 
 " Does she know this last?" 
 
 " Yes, she guessed it. The strange thing is that the 
 shock seemed to revive her mental powers; she has 
 improved since, but she is not here; it was not deemed 
 prudent." 
 
 The storm did not abate. Low > heavy gray clouds 
 went sweeping majestically by, as if they too had been 
 summoned from afar to share in these ceremonies. 
 They, too, brought offerings for bedecking his bier and 
 grave. With nature's lavishness they cast their white 
 blossoms, not only upon the dead but upon the living, 
 upon the hearse and the carriages, upon the spectators 
 and the mourners. They scattered them as gently up- 
 on the stone pave and the granite factories as upon the 
 heavy black plumes on the hearse, where with chaste 
 witchery they transformed the swarth feathers as of the
 
 THE END. 367 
 
 death-croaking raven,waving above hira,to the plumage 
 of the death-singing swan. They bestrewed these deli- 
 cate tributes upon the bearskin caps of the soldiery, 
 changing into symbols of peace, those swaggering 
 but harmless ornaments of war. From their hoarded 
 treasures of the snow, they threw swirling garlands 
 upon cornice, spire, and tower, until the whole city 
 was shrouded in that^ white omnipresence. With 
 more than loyal bounty they laid along the way, where, 
 for the last time, this deposed and prostrate ruler was 
 to pass, a soft carpet upon which the horses stepped 
 with the silence of sculptured steeds, and the wheels 
 turned with the noiselessness of mimic vehicles. 
 
 In the calm, soft twilight which the snow had con- 
 jured from the murky clouds, common things were 
 changed into something rich and strange. The black 
 cloths of the hearse-horses were embroidered with 
 down; plebeian jades, caparisoned with the big, soft 
 flakes, were changed into milk-white barbs of noblest 
 breed, and the coarse garments of their drivers into 
 costly liveries of far. The sides of the carriages 
 gleamed with deeper ebony in contrast with the sheeted 
 crystals, with which, as in delicate mosaic, they were 
 interlaid ; and even the umbrellas and street lanterns, 
 fluffy with the softness, were held aloft like gigantic 
 lilies and camelias, in honor of his name and presence. 
 
 The bells from the church towers, hidden by the 
 storm, gave tongue, as from choirs invisible, to super- 
 natural requiems. In the atmosphere dense with the 
 feathery shower, neither end of the funeral train was 
 visible to the spectator. In deepest silence, broken only
 
 368 A FAMOUS VICTORY. 
 
 by the dirges of the bands, this endless column, emerg- 
 ing from the unseen and the unknown in the distance, 
 passed silently again into the veil of clouds and snow, 
 which wrapped it in garments of gray oblivion, and 
 withdrew it gently from eye and ear into the unseen 
 and unknown beyond. It was a drama in miniature of 
 the abounding and eager life, that " noise between two 
 silences," whose shard was carried in the whitened 
 hearse. 
 
 Its peace and calm were a benediction upon the 
 dead, and a sermon of diviner meaning than that which, 
 with its blare of indiscriminate praise, had fallen upon 
 dulled consciences in the church. It cast its ermine 
 upon the shoulders of injustice, in token that he who 
 wore it would, in this world, work injustice no more 
 forever; and upon his grave, and upon that of the lowly 
 woman, freshly heaped up near it, and upon the congre- 
 gation of the dead that had ceased to suffer wrong or 
 do it, it lay like a broad white mantle of charity, cov- 
 ering a multitude of sins.
 
 /.Z 
 
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