he enemy is about, when we have a Mr.
Tooting.

"They're stung!" he cried, as he ran rapidly through the bundle of
papers--Mr. Crewe having subscribed, with characteristic generosity, to
the entire press of the State. "Flint gave 'em out all this stuff about
the railroad bein' a sacred institution. You've got 'em on the run right
now, Mr. Crewe. You'll notice that, Democrats and Republicans, they've
dropped everybody else, that they've all been sicked on to you. They're
scared."

"I came to that conclusion some time ago," replied Mr. Crewe, who was
sorting over his letters.

"And look there!" exclaimed Mr. Tooting, tearing out a paragraph,
"there's the best campaign material we've had yet. Say, I'll bet Flint
taken that doddering idiot's pass away for writing that."

Mr. Crewe took the extract, and read:--

"A summer resident of Leith, who is said to be a millionaire
many times over, and who had a somewhat farcical career as a
legislator last winter, has announced himself as a candidate
for the Republican nomination on a platform attacking the
Northeastern Railroads. Mr. Humphrey Crewe declares that the
Northeastern Railroads govern us. What if they do? Every
sober-minded citizen, will agree that they give us a pretty
good government. More power to them."

Mr. Crewe permitted himself to smile.

"They are playing into our hands, sure enough. What?"

This is an example of the spirit in which the ridicule and abuse was met.

It was Senator Whitredge--only, last autumn so pleased to meet Mr. Crewe
at Mr. Flint's--who asked the hypocritical question, "Who is Humphrey
Crewe?" A biography (in pamphlet form, illustrated,--send your name and
address) is being prepared by the invaluable Mr. Tooting, who only sleeps
six hours these days. We shall see it presently, when it emerges from
that busy hive at Wedderburn.

Wedderburn was a hive, sure enough. Not having a balloon ourselves, it is
difficult to see all that is going on there; but there can be no mistake
(except by the Honourable Hilary's seismograph) that it has become the
centre of extraordinary activity. The outside world has paused to draw
breath at the spectacle, and members of the metropolitan press are
filling the rooms of the Ripton House and adding to the prosperity of its
livery-stable. Mr. Crewe is a difficult man to see these days--there are
so many visitors at Wedderburn, and the representatives of the
metropol