ieces phrase by
phrase. That was what I wanted. Some phrases I defended, some I conceded
might be altered to advantage, others I cheerfully agreed to discard
altogether. Presently he had a pencil in his hand and was going over the
crucial paragraphs, was making interlineations. And he grew more and
more reasonable. At last I suggested that he take the platform away
with him, make the changes agreed upon and such others as he might
think wise, and send it back for my criticism and suggestions. He
assented, and we parted on excellent terms--"harmony" in the convention
was assured.

When the amended platform came back late in the afternoon, I detained
Goodrich's messenger, the faithful Dufour again. It was still the
Burbank platform, with no changes we could not concede. I had a copy
made and gave it to Dufour, saying: "Tell the Senator I think this
admirable, a great improvement. But I'll try to see him to-night and
thank him."

I did not try to see him, however. I took no risk of lessening the
effect created by his having to come to me. He had entered through
groups of delegates from all parts of the country. He had passed out
through a crowd, so well did my men employ the time his long stay with
me gave them.

On the next day the platform was adopted. On the following day, amid
delirious enthusiasm in the packed galleries and not a little agitation
among the delegates--who, even to the "knowing ones," were as ignorant
of what was really going on as private soldiers are of the general's
plan of battle--amid waving of banners and crash of band and shriek of
crowd Burbank was nominated on the first ballot. Our press hailed the
nomination as a "splendid victory of the honest common sense of the
entire party over the ultra conservatism of a faction associated in the
popular mind with segregated wealth and undue enjoyment of the favors of
laws and law-makers."

When I saw Burbank he took me graciously by the hand. "I thank you,
Harvey," he said, "for your aid in this glorious victory of the people."

I did not realize then that his vanity was of the kind which can in an
instant spring into a Redwood colossus from the shriveled stalk to which
the last glare of truth has wilted it. Still his words and manner jarred
on me. As our eyes met, something in mine--perhaps something he imagined
he saw--made him frown in the majesty of offended pose. Then his
timidity took fright and he said apologetically, "How can I repay you?