THE COLOSSUS.

Evening Star, Issue 10701, 13 August 1898, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE COLOSSUS.

[Bt Opib Rkad ] CHAPTER XII. The •Star' was printed in an old building where more than one newapaper had iafled. The interior of the plaoe waa ao 'Comfortless in arrangement, ao subject to «naoconntable draughta of cold air in winter «ad breaths of hot oppression in summer, that it must have been Jhuilt especially for a newspaper office. Henry found that the working force consisted 'mainly of a few young reporters and a large force of editorial writers. The weakness of nearly every newspaper is its editorial page, and especially ao when the paper is owned by a politician. The new manager straightway began a reorganisation. It was an easy matter to form an efficient staff, lor in every city some of the best newspaper men are out of employment—the bright and uncertain writers, who have been shoved •side by trustworthy plodders. He did not begin as one who knows it all, but he •ought the co-operation of practical men. The very man who knew that tho paper could not do without him was told that his services were no longer needed. In his day he had spread many an acre of platitudes ; he had hammered the tariff mummy", and at every lick he had knocked out the black dust; he had snorted loud in controversy, and waa arrogant in the certainty that his blowhard sentence was tho frosty air of satire. He was the representative of a class. To him all clearness of expression waa shallowness of thought, and brightness waa the easence of frivolity. He scon found another place, for some of the Chicago new*?pires atill set a [nmium upon windy Uulness.

Aneng the writers whom Henry decided to refokia waa Laura Drury. kSne wrote book reviews and scraps which were supposed to be of interest to women. Her room opened into Henry's, and through a door which was never shut he could see her at work. The brightness and the modesty cl her face attracted him. She could not have been more than twenty years of age. "Have you been long in newspaper "work ?'' he asked, when she had come in to submit somethiog to him. " Only a short time, : ' she answered, and returned at occe to her desk. Henry looked at her as she proceeded with her work. Her preseuce seemed to refine the entire office. He fancied that her hair made the room brighter. His curiosity was awakened by one touch of her presence. He sought to know more of her, and when Bho had come in again to consult him he said : " Wait a moment, please. How long have you been connected with this paper ?" " About three months regularly." " Had you worked on any other paper in the city ? " "No, sir, I havo never worked on any other paper." " Have you lived here long ?" " No, sir, I have been here only a short time. lam from Missouri." " You didn't come alone, did you ? " She glanced at him quickly and answered : *' I came alone, but I live with my aunt." She returned to her work, and she must have discovered that he was watching her, for the next day he saw that she had moved her desk. Henry had applied for membership in the Press Club, and one morning a reporter told him that be had been elected. " Waa there any opposition ?" the editor asked. " Not after the hoys learned that you had been a reporter. You can go over at any time and sign the constitution." "I'll go now. Suppose you come with me." The Press Club of Chicago i 3 a democracy. Money holds but little influence within its precinsts, for its ablest members are generally " broke." There are no rules hung on its walla, no cool ceremonies to be observed. Its atmosphere invites a man to be natural, and warns him to conceal hi? vanities. Among that body of men no pretence is ■acred. Here men of Puritan ancestry find it well to curb a puritanical instinct. A stranger may be shocked by a snort of profanity, but if he listen he will hear a bright and poetic blending of words rippling after it. A great preacher, whose sermons are read by the world, sat one day in the Club, uttering the slow and heavy sentences of an oracle. He touched his finger tips together. He was discoursing on some phase of life, and an old night police reporter listened for a moment and Baid " Rats ! " The great man was startled. Accustomed to deliver his theories to a silent congregation, he was astonished to find that his wisdom could so irreverently be questioned. The reporter meant no disrespect, but he could not restrain his contempt for so presuming a piece of ignorance. He turned to the preacher and snowed him where his theories were wrong. With a pin he touahed the bubble of the great man's presumption ; and it was done kindly, for when the sage arose to go he laid t " I must confeaa that I have learned something. I fear that a preacher*) library does not contain all that is worth knowing." And this, more than any of his sermons, proved his wisdom. In the Press Club the pulse of the town can be felt, and scandals that money and social influence have suppressed are known there. The characters of public meu are correctly estimated ; snobs are laughed at; and the society woman, who seeks to bribe the Press with the cajolery of a smile, is a familiar joke. Of course this is not wholly a harmonious body, for keen intelligence is never in smooth accord with itself. To the "kicker" is given the right to " kick,"and keen is the enjoyment of this privilege. Every directory is the worst; every officer neglects his duty. Literary societies know but little of this Club, for literary rocieties despise the affairs of the real worker—they are interested in the bladdery essay written by the tashionable ass.

Henry was Bhown into a large room, brightly carpeted and hung with portraits. On a leather lounge a man lay asleep ; at a round table a man sat, solemnly playing solitaire; and in one corner of the apartment sat several men, discussing an outrageous clause in the constitution that Henry had just signed. The new member was introduced to thorn. Among the number were John M'Glenn, John Richmond, and a shrewd little Yankee named Whittlesy. Of M Glenn's character a whole book might ba writ.en. An individual almost wholly distinct from his fellow-men ; a castigator of human weakness and yet a hero-worshipper—not the hero of burning powder and flattering flag*, but any humau being who le brain had blaz'd and" lighted the world. Art was to him the 9oul oi literature. H*d belived twothousaniyears ago, as the founder of a peculiar school of ?ihilosophy, he might still be alive. If ranknesa" be a virtu?, he was surely a reward unto himself. He would calmly look into the eyes of a poet and say : *• Yen, I read your po9m. Do you expect to keep on attempting to write poetry? But you may think better of it after a while. I wrote poems when I was of your age." H? did not hate men because they were wealthy, but he despised the methods that make them rich. His temperament invited a few people to a close friendship with him, and gently warned many to keep a respectful distance. Aggressive and cutting he was, and he often said that death was the best friend of a man who is compelled to write for a living He wrote a subscription book for a mere pittance, and one of the agents that sold it now lives in a mansion. He regard'-d present success a* nothing compared with an immortal nama in the ages to come. He was born in the country, and his refined nature revolted at his rude surroundings, and evtr afterwards he held tho country in coulempt. Iu liter years he had regarded himself simply as a man of talent, and when decision had beeu reached he thought leas of life. If his intellectual character lacked one touch, th.it touch would have made him a guni'is. When applied to him the term "gentleman" found its befitting place. Careless observers of m<m often passed Richmond without taking particular notice of him. He was rather undersized, and was bald, but his head was shapely. He was so sensitive that ha often a-sum ul a brusquaneas in order not to appear effeminate. His judgment of moo was aa swift as the sweep of a hawk, and sometimes it was as sura. He had taken so many chances, and had bo closely noted that something which we call luck, that he might have been touohed a little with superstition, bub his

■oul wm m broad aa a prairie and hit mind was aa penetrating aa a drill; and a faot must have seleoted a oloae hiding plaoe to esoape hit search. Sitting in his room, with hia plug of black tobiooo, he had explored the world. Stanley was amazed at his knowledge of Africa, and Blaine marvelled at his acquaintance with politioal history. " We welcome you to our Club," M'Glenn remarked when Henry had aat down, " but are you aure that this ia the Club you wanted to join?" Henry waa aurpriaed. "Of course, 1 am. Why do you ask that question ?" " Because you are a rich man, and this is the home of modeaty." . Henry reaohed over and ahook hands with him. " I like that," aaid he, " and let me assure you that you have in one sentence made, me feel that I really belong here, not because I am particularly modest, but because your sentiments are my own. lam not a rich man, but even if I were I should prefer this group to the hyphenated " " Fools," M'Glenn suggested. " Yes," Heury agreed ; " the hyphenated fools that lam oompellad to meet. George Witherspoon ia a rich man, but his money does not belong to me. I didu't help him earn any of it; I borrowed money from him, and, so soon as I oan, I shall return it with interest."

"John," said Richmond, "you were wrong—as you usually are—in asking Mr Witherapoon that question, but in view of the fact that you enablod him to put himself so agreeably on record we will excuse your lack of courtesy." " I don't permit any man who goes fishing with any sort of ignorant lout, and who spends a whole day in a boat with him, to tell me when I am lacking in courtesy." Richmond laughed, put his hand to his mouth, thnw bick his head, an.l replied : " I go fishing not for society, but for amusement ; and, by the way, I think it would do you good to go fishing, even with an iguorant lout. You might learn something." "Ah," M'Glenn rejoined, "you have disclosed tho source of much of your information. You learn from the ignorant that you may confound the wise." Richmond put his hand to his mouth, " At some playful time," said he, " I might seek to confound tho wise; but I should never so far forget myself as to mako an experiment on you." "Mi Witherspoon," remarked M'Glenn, " we will turn from this rude barbarian and give our attention to Mr Whittlesy, who knows all about dogs." "If ho knows all about dogs," Henry replied, "he must be well acquainted with some of the most prominent traits of man. "I am not talking much today," Baid Whittlesy, ducking his head. "I went fooliDg round the Board of Trade yesterday, and they got me, and they got me good." " How much did they catch you for, Whit?" M'Glenn asked.

" I won't Bay, but they got me, and got me good; but never mind, I'll go after 'em."

The man who had been asleep on the leather lounge got up, stretched himself, looked about for a moment, and then, coming over to the group, said: " What's all this rot?"' Seeing a stranger, he added by way of apology: "I thought this was the rogulir roasting lay-out." "Mr Witherspoon," said Richmond, "let me introduce Mr Mortimer, au old member of the Club"; and when tho introduction had beeu acknowledged Richmond added : " .Mortimer has just thought of something mean to say, and has come over to say it. Ho dosw himself full of venom, and then has to get rid of it." " Our friend Richmond is about as truthful as ho ia complimentary," Mortimer replied. " Yes," s:\id Richmond, " but if I were no more complimentary than you are truthful I should have a slam for everybody." "Oh, ho, ho, no," M'Glenn cried, and Richmond shouted: " Oh, I have been robbed."

ileury looked about for the cause of this commotion, and saw a smiling man, portly and impressive, coming toward them with a dignified mioca in his walk. And Mr Flummers was introduced with halfhumorous ceremony. He had rather a pleasant expression of countenance, and men who were well acquainted with him said that he had, though not so long of arm, an extensive reach for whfcky. He was of impressive a!* 3, with a sort of Napoleonic head ; and when hot on the trail of a drink, his voioe held a most unctuous solicitude. He was exceedingly annoyiDg to some people, and was a source of constant delight to others. At one time he had formed the habit of being robbed, and later on he was drugged ; but uo one could conjecture what he would next add to his ropertory. His troubles were amusing, his difficulties were humorous, his failures were laughable, and his sorrows were the cause for jest. He had a growing piunch, and when he stood he leaned back slightly, as though his rotund front found ease iu exhibition. As a law student he had aimed a levere blow at justice ; and, failing as an attorney, he had served hia country a good turu. As a reporter ho wrote with a torch, and wrote well. All his utteranoes were declamatory, and he had a set of scallopy gestures that were far beyond the successful mimicry of his fellows. The less he thought the more wisely he talked. Meditation hampered him, and, like a rabbit, he was generally at his best when he first "jumped up." He shook hands with Henry, looked at him a moment, and asked : " Are you going to run a newepiper with all those old geysers you've got over there ?" The new member winced. "Don't pay any attention to Flummers," John Richmond said.

"Oh, ye 3," Flummers insisted. "You see I know all these fellows. Some of them were worn out tea years ago—but say, are you paying anything over there ? " " Yes, payiug as much as any paper in the town."

" That's the stuff ; but say, you can afford it. Who raDg the bell? Did anybody ring? Boy" (speaking to a waiter), "we ought to have something to drink here." "Do you want to pay for it?" Richmond asked.

"Oh, ho, ho, no; I'm busted. I've set 'em up two or three times to-day." " Why, you stuffed buffalo robe you " "Oh, well, it was the other day, then. I'm all the time buying drinks. But if it weren't for me you gpyaers would dry up. Say, John, touch the bell." " Wait," said Henry. " Have somothing with me."

"Ah, now you command the respect of! the commonwealth !*' Flummers cried. "By one heroic act you prove that your life is not a failure. These fellows round here make me tired. Boy, bring me a little whisky. What are you fellows goiDg to take? What! vou want a cigar?" he added, speaking to Henry. "Oh, I had a great man on my staff yesterday—big railroad nun. Do you know that some cf these fellows like to have a man show them how to spend their money? I see I'm posted for dues. Thi3 municipality must thiuk I'm made of money." When he caught sight of the boy coming with tho tray a peculiar light, such as painters give the face of Hope, illumined his countenance, aud, elaspiug his handß, he unctuously greeted hiunelf. " Mr Flummer?," said M'Glenn, " we all love you." " Oli, no." " Yea; it is disreputable, but we love you. It was a long time before I discovered yuur beauties. I used to think that the men who lovod \oa were the enemies of a higher grado of lfio, and perhaps they were, but I love you. You are a great mau, Mr Flummers. Nature designed you to be the president of a life insurance company." " Well, say, I know that." "Yes," continued M'Glenn, "a life insurance company ought to employ you as a great josi, and charge people for the priviI lege of a mere glimpse of you." I "I shouldn't think," said Richmond, " that a nun who had committed murder in Nebraska would bo bo extreme as to pose as the president of a lif« insurance company." " Mr Flummers, did you commit a murder in Nebraska ?" M'Glenn asked.

"Oh, no." ■ " But didn't you confess that you killed a man there ?" Richmond urged. " Oh, well, that was a mistake." "What? The confession ?" " No, the killing. You see, I wai out of work, and I struck a doctor for a job in his drug store ; and once, when the doctor was away, an old fellow sent over to have a prescription filled, and I filled it. And when the doctor returned he saw the funeral pro-

oeation going past the store. Be aaked me what it meant, and I told him." "Then what did he Bay?" " He aaked me if I got pay for the preaoription. Oh, but he was a thrifty man I" Flummera olasped hia hands, threw himself baok and laughed with a jolting "he, he, he." "Well I've got to go. Did anybody ring! Say, John"—to Richmond—"why don't you buy something?" "What? Oil, you gulp, you aucoeaaion of swalbws, you human sink hole! Flummera, I have bought you whisky enough to overflow the Mississippi." J " Oh, ho, ho, but not to-day, John. Past I whisky ia a scandal; in present whisky there lies a virtue. Never tell a man what you have done, John, lest he may think you boastful, but show him what you will do now, ao that he may have the proof of your ability. Is it possible that I've got to shake you fellows? My time is too valuable to waste, even with a mere contemplation of your riotous living." He walked away with his mincing step. " There's a character," said Henry, looking after him. "He is positively restful." "Until he wants a "drink," Mortimer replied, "and then he is restless. Well, I must follow his example of withdrawal, if not his precept of appetite. lam pleased to have met you, Mr Witherspoon, and I hope to see you often." " I think you shall, as I intend to make this my resting-place." "There is another character," said M'Glenn, referring to Mortimer. "Heis a very learned man." "And he is charmed with the prospect of sayiug a mean thing," Richmond replied. " I tell him so," he a'lded, " though that is needless, for he kuowa it himself. His mind has travelled over a larga scope of intellectual territory, and he commands my respect while I object to his methods)." The conversation took a serious turn, and Richmond flooded it with his learning. Hia voice was low and his manner modest —a great man, who in the gamo of human affairs phyed below the limit of his abilities. M'Glenn roused himself. When emphatic he had a way of turning out his thumb and slowly hammering his knee with hia fist. In hia sky there was a cloud of pessimism, but the brightness of his speech threw a rainbow across it. He wa3 a poet in the garb of a Diogenes. Many of his theories were wrong, but all were striking. Sometimes his sentences flashed like a scythe swinging in the sunshine. Henry talked as he had never found occasion to talk before. Theße men inspired him, and, iu acknowledgment of this, he said : "We may for years carry in our minds a sort of mist that we cannot shape into an idea. Suddenly we meet a man, and he speaks the word of life unto that mist, and instantly it becomes a thought." Other members joined the group, and the conversation broke and flew into sharp fragments. M'Glenn and Richmond began to wrangle. " Your children may not read my books," said M'Glenn, replying to some assertion that Richmond had made, " but your greatgrandchildren will." " Oh, that's possible," Richmond rejoined. " I can defend my immediate offspring, while my descendants may be left without protection. If you would tear the didacticism out of your books and inject a little more of the justice of human interest—hold on !" Richmond threw up his arm, as though to ward off a blow. " When that double line comes between his eyes I always feel that he is going to hit me." "I wouldn't hit you. I have some pity left." " Or fear—which is it ?" " Not fear; pity." " Why don't you reserve some of it for your readers ?" M'Glenn frowned. " I don't expect you to like my books." "Oil, you have realised the fact that the characters are wooden?"

"No, but I have realised that they are beyoiKl your feeble grasp. I don't want you to like my books." He hammered his kuee. " The book that wins your regard is an exceedingly bad production. When you search for facts you may sometimes go to high scources, but when you read fiction you go to tho dogs. A consistent character in fiction is beyond you."

"There ate no consistent characters in life," said Richmond, " and a consistent character in fiction is merely a strained form of art. Iu life the most arrant coward will sometimes fight; the bravest man at times lacks nerve ; the generous man may sometimes show the spirit of tho niggard. But your character in fiction is different. He must be always bravo, or always generous, or always niggardly. He must be consistent, and consistency is not life." " "But inconsistency is life, and you are, therefore, not dead," M'Glenn replied. "If inconsistency were a jewel," he added, "you would be a cluster of brilliants. As it is, you are an intellectual fault-finder and a physical hypochondriac." "And you arc an intellectual cartoon and a physical mistake." " t won'c talk to you. Even the semblanoe of a gentleman commands my respect, but I oan'c respect you. I like truth, but—" " Is that the reason you seek me ?" " No, it is tho reason I avoid you. Brutal prejudice never held a truth." "Not when it shook hands with you," Richmond replied. M'Glenn got up, walked over to the piano, came back, looked at his watch, and addressing Richmond, asked : " Are you going home, John ?" " Yes, John. Suppose we walk." " I'll go with you ; come on." They bade Henry good evening and together walked off affectionately. t " What do you think of our new friend ?" Richmond asked as they strolled along. "John, he has suffered. He is a groat man."

" I don't know how he may turn out," Richmond said; "but I rather like him. Of course he hasn't fitted himself to his position—that is, he doesn't as yet feel the force of oil Witherspoon's money. His experience haß gone far towards making a man of him, but his changed condition may after a while throw his past struggles into contempt, and thereby corrode his manliness." " I don't think that he scrapped up his principles from the Witherepoon side of the house," M'Glenn declared. If he had we should at once have discovered in him the unmhtakeable trace of the hog. Oh.ldon'tthink he will stay in the club very loDg. His tendency will be to drift away. All rich men are the enemies of the democracy. If they pretend that they are not they are hjpocrites; if they believe theyarenot.it is because they haven't come to a correct underttanding of themselves. The meanest difference that can exist between men is the difference that money makes. There is some compassion in an intellectual difference, and evtn in a difference of birth there is Borne little atonement to be expected, but a moneyed difference is stiff with unyielding brutality." In this opinion they struck, a sort of agreement, but they soon fell apart, and they wrangled until thry reached a place where their pathway split. They halted for a moment; they had been fierce in argument. Now they were calm. " Can't you come over to-night, John ?" M'Glenn asked. " No, I can't possibly come to-night, John. I've got a piece of work on hand and must get it off. I've neglected it too long already.'' But he did go over that night, and he wrangled with M'Glenn until twelve o'clock. CHAPTER XIII. When wo have become familiar with an environment we sometimes wonder why at any time it should have appeared strange to us; and it was thus with Henry as the months moved along. The mansion in Prairie avenue was now home-like to him, and tho contrasts whioh its luxurious belongings, were wont to summons were now less sharp, and were dismissed with a growing easiness. Feeling the force which position urges, he worked without worry, and, conscious of a certain ability, he did not question the success of his plans. But how much of the future did he intend these plans to cover? He turned from this troublesome uncertainty and found satisfaction in that state of mind whioh permitß one day to forecast the day which is to follow, and on a futurity stretching further than this he resolutely turned his back. In his work and in his rest at the Press Club, whither he went every afternoon, he found his keenest pleasure. He was also fond of the theatre; not to sit with a box party,

bnt to loiter with RiofamonA—&>l enjoy the natural, to growl at the" tame,. aas to leave the ptsoe whenever a tiresome dialogue came on. Ellen eometimee drew him Into sooiety, and on Sundays he usually, went with Mrs Witherspoon to the Congregational Church, where a preaoher who had, taught his oountenanae the artifioe Of a severe solemnity denounced the money* ohaslng spirit of the age at about double the price that he had received in the K*st. The Witherspoons had much company and they entertained generously, though not wiih a showy lavisbness, for the old man had a quick eye for the appearance of waste. It was noticeable, too, that since Henry came yonng women who were counted as Ellen's friends were more frequent with their visits. Witherspoon rarely laughed at anything, but he laughed at this. His wife, however, discovered in it no cause for mirth. A mother may plan the marriage of her daughter, for that is romantic, but she looks with an anxious eye upon the marriage of her son, for that is Berious. One evening, when Witherspoon and Henry had gone into the library to smoke, the merchant remarked : " I want to talk to you about the course of your paper." " All right, sir." The merchant stood on the hearthrug. He lighted his cigar, turned it round and round, and then said :

"Brooks called my attention this afternoon to an article on working girls. Does it meet with your approval ?" " Why, yes. It was a special assignment, and I gave it out." "Hum!" Witherspoon grunted. He sat down in his leather-covered chair, crossed his legs, struck a match on the sole of his slipper, relighted his cigar, which he had suffered to go out, and for a timo smoked in silence.

"Is there anything wrong about it?" Henry asked. "I might ask you if there is anything right about it?" Witherspoon replied. " • The poor ye have with you always,' was uttered by the Son of God. It was not only a prophecy, but a truth for all ages. There arc grades in life, and who made tbem ? Man. Ah, but who made man ? God. Then who Is responsible for the grades? Nature sets the example of inequality- One tree is higher than another." His cigir had gone out. He lighted it again and continued : " Writers who seek to benefit the poor often injure them—teach them a dissatisfaction, whioh in its turn brings a sort of reprisal on the part of Capital." "I don't agree with you," said Henry. " Of course not." " I have cause to know that you are wrong, sir." "You think you have," the merchant replied. "It is true," Henry admitted, "that we shall always have the poor with us." " I thought so," said Witherspoon.

"But it iB not true that an attempt to aid them is harmful. Their condition has steadily improved since history " " You are a sentimentalist." " I am more than that," said Henry ; " I am a man."

" Hum ! And are you more than that ?" " How could I b3 more V" " Easily enough. You can be an anar chist."

"And is that a step higher ?" " Wolves think so." " Bnt I don't." "I hope not." They sat in silence. The young man was angry, but he controlled himself. "It is easy to scatter dangerous words in this town," said the merchant. "And, sir "—he broke off, rousing himself^—"look at tho inconsistency, the ridiculousness of your position. I employ more than a thousand people; my son says that I oppress them. I——•" " Hold on ; I didn't say that. I don't know of any injustice that you inflict upon your employes; but I do know of such wrougs committed by other men. But you have shown me that the condition of those creatures is hopeless."

" What creatureß ?" " Women who work for a living." " Aod do you know the cause of their hopelessness ?" " Yes, poverty and oppression." "Ah, but what is the cause of their poverty ?" "The greed of man." " Oh, no; the appetite of man—whisky. Nine out of ten of those so-called wretched creatures can trace their wretchedness to drink." " But it is not their fault." "Oh!"

Henry was stunned. He saw what a wall he was butting against. "And is this to go on for ever ?" he asked.

" Yes, for ever. ' The poor ye have with you always.'" " But present conditions may be overturned."

"Possibly, but other conditions juat as bad, or even worse, will build on the rulna. That is the history you spoke of just now." " But slavery was swept away. And let me affirm," he suddenly broke off, " that the oondition of the poorer people in this town is worse than the slavery that existed in the South. From that slavery the Government pointed towards freedom, and mill-owners in the North applauded—meu, too, mind you, who were the hardest of masters. I can bring up now a picture of a green lane. I can see an old negro woman sweeping the door yard of her cabin, and she Binga a song. Her husband is at work in the field, and her happy children are fishing in the bayou. That is the freedom which the Government pointed, out —the freedom which a Godinspired Lincoln proclaimed. But do you hsar any glad songs among the slaves in the North ? Lat me tell you, sir, that we are confronted with a problem that is more serioua than that which was Bolved by Lincoln."

Witherspoon looked at him as though ho could think of no reply. At one moment he seemed to be filling up with the gathering impulses of anger ; at another he appeared to be humiliated.

" Are you my son ?" he asked. " Presumably. An impostor would yield to your demands; he would win your confidence that he might steal your money." " Yea," said the merchant, and he sat in silence.

Henry was the first to speak. "If you were poor, and with the same intelligence you have now, what would you advise the poor man to do?" " I should advise him to do as I did, when I was poor, and as I do now—work. Now, let me tell you something; last year your mother and 1 gave away a great deal of money—we do so every year. Does that look as if I am grinding the poor? You have hurt me."

"I am sorry. But if I have hurt you with a truth, it should make you think." Witherspoon looked at him, and this time it was with resentment. " What! you talk about making me think ! Young man, you don't know what it is to think. You are confounded with the difference between sentimentalißm and thought. You go ahead and print your newspaper, and don't worry about the working woman. Her class will be larger and worse off, probably, a hundred years after you are dead."

" Yeß, but before that time her class may rise up and sweep everything before it. A democracy can't long permit a few men to hold all the wealth. But there's no good to come from a discussion with you." " You are right," said Witherspoon; "but hold on a moment. Don't go away believing that I have no sympathy for the poor. I have, but I haven't time to worry with it. There is no reason why any man should be poor in this country." Henry thought of a hundred things to say, but said nothing. He knew that it was useless; he knew that this man's strength had blinded him to the weakness of other men, and he felt that American arißtooraoy was the most grinding of all aristocracies, for the reason that a man's failure to reach its grade was attributable to himßelf alone. (To be continued.)