re troubling Kansas so
six-cent cotton was inflaming Georgia--and both were frankly sympathetic
with Montana and Colorado whose miners were suffering from a drop in the
price of silver. To express the meaning of this revolt a flying squadron
of radical orators had been commissioned and were in the field. Mary
Ellen Lease with Cassandra voice, and Jerry Simpson with shrewd humor
were voicing the demands of the plainsman, while "Coin" Harvey as
champion of the Free Silver theory had stirred the Mountaineer almost to
a frenzy. It was an era of fervent meetings and fulminating resolutions.
The Grange had been social, or at most commercially co-operative in its
activities, but The Farmers' Alliance came as a revolt.

The People's Party which was the natural outcome of this unrest involved
my father. He wrote me that he had joined "the Populists," and was one
of their County officers. I was not surprised at this action on his
part, for I had known how high in honor he held General Weaver who was
the chief advocate of a third party.

Naturally Flower sympathized with this movement, and kept the pages of
his magazine filled with impassioned defenses of it. One day, early in
'91, as I was calling upon him in his office, he suddenly said,
"Garland, why can't you write a serial story for us? One that shall deal
with this revolt of the farmers? It's perfectly legitimate material for
a novel, as picturesque in its way as _The Rise of the Vendee_--Can't
you make use of it?"

To this I replied, with some excitement--"Why yes, I think I can. I have
in my desk at this moment, several chapters of an unfinished story which
uses the early phases of the Grange movement as a background. If it
pleases you I can easily bring it down to date. It might be necessary
for me to go into the field, and make some fresh studies, but I believe
I can treat the two movements in the same story. Anyhow I should like to
try."

"Bring the manuscript in at once," replied Flower. "It may be just what
we are looking for. If it is we will print it as a serial this summer,
and bring it out in book form next winter."

In high excitement I hurried home to dig up and re-read the fragment
which I called at this time _Bradley Talcott_. It contained about thirty
thousand words and its hero was a hired man on an Iowa farm. Of course I
saw possibilities in this manuscript--I was in the mood to do that--and
sent it in.

Flower read it and reported almost by return m