as been trained in the love of country and the principles of
Democracy. In his veins he carries the blood of a race of patriots. From
his mother's breast he has imbibed the immortal milk of morality. He
has laboured for his people in a single-hearted service that seeketh not
its own. There is no man rich enough to buy the good-will of Dudley
Webb; there is none so poor--"

"That he hasn't a vote to sell him!" called a voice from the pit.

In an instant a chorus of yells rang out from stage to gallery. The man
who spoke was knocked down by a Webb partisan, and assailant and
assailed were hustled from the house.

When the uproar was subdued, the thin voice of Mr. Slate sounded from
the platform.

"What he doesn't sell he buys," he cried in his nervous, penetrant
tones. "Twelve years ago he was accused of lobbying with full hands in
the legislature. He was the lobbyist of the P.H. & C. railroad. The
charge was passed over, not disproved. What do you say to this, Major?"

In the effort to restore order the chairman grew purple, but the major
turned squarely upon his questioner.

"I say nothing, sir. It is unnecessary to assert that a gentleman is not
a criminal at large."

A burst of applause broke out.

"I repeat the charge," screamed Slate.

"It is false!" retorted the major.

"It's a damned lie!" called a dozen voices.

"Nick Burr knows it. Ask him!" answered Slate.

From a peaceable assemblage the convention had passed into pandemonium.
Two thousand throats made, in two thousand different keys, a single
gigantic discord. The pounding of the chairman was a faint
accompaniment to the clamour. In the first lull, a man's voice with a
dominant note was heard demanding recognition, and at the sight of his
towering figure upon the platform there was a short silence.

"It's Nick Burr!" called a man from Burr's district. "Let's hear Nick
Burr."

There was a protest on the part of the Webb faction. Burr and Webb were
looked upon as rivals. "He hates Webb like the devil!" cried a delegate,
and "It's pie for Burr!" sneered another. But as he moved slightly
forward and faced the chairman a sudden hush fell before him.

Among the men surrounding him his powerful figure towered like a
giant's. His abundant red hair, waving thickly from his bulging
forehead, redeemed by its single note of colour the rigidity of his
features. His eyes--small, keen, deeply set beneath heavy brows--flashed
from a dull opacity to an aler