ction.

Here and there in the outline of great buildings a mammoth structure
raised its head above all others, losing itself in the foam of light
that floated mist-like over the city's towering majesty.

For more than two hours Selwyn remained motionless in the thrill of
patriotism. The burst of light challenging the reign of darkness was a
symbol to him. The Old World was crouching in darkness, fingering and
fearing the assassin's knife. . . . But America was the Spirit of
Light.

How many times, he thought, emigrants must have looked on just as he
was doing! How many times that sight must have brought hope to weary,
discouraged souls that never thought to hope again!

To the idealist returning to his own country, New York was not a
citadel guarding the entrance to a Nation, but a gateway opening to the
Continent of Opportunity.

CHAPTER XX.

THE GREAT NEUTRAL.

I.

One afternoon a tall, heavily built young man entered his house on
128th Street, New York, and after divesting himself of his coat and
hat, rubbed his hands in genial appreciation of his own hearth and the
exclusion of the raw outside air. He was dressed in a gray lounge
suit, a clerical collar alone denoting his vocation.

'There's a gentleman in your room, Mr. Forbes,' said his housekeeper,
appearing from the kitchen. 'He said he was an old friend, and would
wait.'

'What's his name?'

'Mr. Selwyn, sir.'

'Austin Selwyn? By George!' Taking the stairs three at a time, the
energetic clergyman burst into the library and advanced with both hands
outstretched. 'For the love of Pete!' he ejaculated most unclerically.
'How are you, my boy? Let me have a look at you. Still the same old
Sel, eh? A little thinner, I think, and not quite so much hair--humph!
Sit down; have that easy-chair; tell me all about yourself. Well,
well! this is an unexpected treat.'

The Rev. Edgerton Forbes, who had been looking Selwyn over after the
custom of tailors about to offer sartorial advice, ceased his
inspection, and shook hands all over again.

'Edge,' said Selwyn, speaking for the first time, 'you can't imagine
what your welcome means to me.'

'My dear boy, you never doubted its warmth?'

'Yes I did, old man--after what I've been writing.'

The athletic clergyman laughed uproariously. 'I suppose you're a
dyed-in-the-wool Englishman now, and want your cup of tea. Well, I'll
join you.--Mrs. Perkins.' Going to the door, he gave the n