th a
start and a smile.

"You've mistaken your calling, Mr. Vaughan," she said with emotion.

"Why do you say that?"

"You're a statesman--not an editor--you should be in the Cabinet."

"Much obliged, Miss Betty--but I'm not in this one, thank you. Besides,
you're mistaken. I'm only an intelligent observer and reporter of
events. I've never had the will to do creative things."

"Why?"

"The responsibility is too great. Fools rush in where angels fear to
tread. Only God Almighty can save this Nation to-day. It's too much to
expect of one man."

"Yet God must use man, mustn't He?"

"Yes. That's why my soul goes out in sympathy to the lonely figure who
steps out of obscurity and poverty to-day to do this impossible thing.
No such responsibility was ever before laid on the shoulders of one man.
In all the history of the world he has no precedent, no guide----"

Ned interrupted the flow of John's impassioned speech by suddenly
appearing with uplifted hand.

"Never such a crowd as this!"

"Why, they say it's smaller than usual!" Betty exclaimed.

"I don't mean size," Ned went on rapidly. "It's their temper that's
remarkable. An Inauguration crowd should support the administration. The
Lord help the Rail-splitter if that sullen dumb mob are his
constituents! Half of them are downright hostile----"

"Washington's a Southern town," John remarked.

"They are not Washington folks--not one in a hundred. And the only
honest backers old Abe seems to have are about a thousand serious young
fellows from the West, whom General Scott has armed as a special guard
to circle the crowd."

He paused and pointed to a group of a dozen Westerners standing beside a
bush in the outer rim of the throng.

"There's a bunch of them--and there's one stationed every ten yards. The
artillery in position, the infantry in line, the sharpshooters masked in
windows, the guard under the platform with muskets cocked, and a
thousand volunteers to threaten the crowd from without, I think the new
President should get a respectful hearing! The procession is coming up
the Avenue now with a guard of sappers and miners packed so closely
around the open carriage you can't even see the top of old Abe's
head----"

"Let's get our seats!" Betty cried.

They had scarcely taken them when a ripple of excitement swept the crowd
as every head was turned toward the aisle that led down the centre of
the platform.

"Oh, it's Mrs. Lincoln and the children