y 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 metropolitan press hitch their horses and stroll
around the grounds, or sit on the porch and converse with gentlemen from
various counties of the State who (as the Tribune would put it) have
been led by a star to Leith.

On the occasion of one of these gatherings, when Mr. Crewe had been
inaccessible for four hours, Mrs. Pomfret drove up in a victoria with
her daughter Alice.

"I'm sure I don't know when we're going to se