y. What train are you
making back to Philadelphia, by the way?"

"The four, if I can," replied Bok.

"Excuse me a moment," returned Mr. Blaine, and when he came back to the
room, he said: "Now let's talk over this interesting proposition that
the President has told me about."

The two discussed the matter and completed arrangements whereby Mr.
Blaine was to undertake the work. Toward the latter end of the talk, Bok
had covertly--as he thought--looked at his watch to keep track of his
train.

"It's all right about that train," came from Mr. Blaine, with his back
toward Bok, writing some data of the talk at his desk. "You'll make it
all right."

Bok wondered how he should, as it then lacked only seventeen minutes of
four. But as Mr. Blaine reached the front door, he said to the editor:
"My carriage is waiting at the curb to take you to the station, and the
coachman has your seat in the parlor car."

And with this knightly courtesy, Mr. Blaine shook hands with Bok, who
was never again to see him, nor was the contract ever to be fulfilled.
For early in 1893 Mr. Blaine passed away without having begun the work.

Again Bok turned to the President, and explained to him that, for some
reason or other, the way seemed to point to him to write the articles
himself. By that time President Harrison had decided that he would not
succeed himself. Accordingly he entered into an agreement with the
editor to begin to write the articles immediately upon his retirement
from office. And the day after Inauguration Day every newspaper
contained an Associated Press despatch announcing the former President's
contract with The Ladies' Home Journal.

Shortly afterward, Benjamin Harrison's articles on "This Country of
Ours" successfully appeared in the magazine.

During Bok's negotiations with President Harrison in connection with his
series of articles, he was called to the White House for a conference.
It was midsummer. Mrs. Harrison was away at the seashore, and the
President was taking advantage of her absence by working far into the
night.

The President, his secretary, and Bok sat down to dinner.

The Marine Band was giving its weekly concert on the green, and after
dinner the President suggested that Bok and he adjourn to the "back lot"
and enjoy the music.

"You have a coat?" asked the President.

"No, thank you," Bok answered. "I don't need one."

"Not in other places, perhaps," he said, "but here you do. The dampness
c