ich his father had shared. Later had come the brilliant crowded years
of the far-seeing conception and vigorous execution which had given him
his largely increased wealth. Then the war occupied him; it occupied
fifty millions of people as well. After it was over, and he had gone
abroad a second time, he had not been an idle traveller, though always a
tranquil one.

The truth was, he could not lead a purely contemplative life. It was not
that he desired to lead such a life, or that he admired it; it was
simply that he knew he should never be able to do it, even if he should
try, and the impossibility, as usual, tempted him. There must be
something very charming in it (that is, if one had no duties which
forbade it), this full, passive, receptive enjoyment of anything
delightful, a fine picture, for instance, or a beautiful view, the
sunshine, the sea; even the angler's contented quiescence on a green
bank was part of it. These pleasures he knew he could never have in
their full sweetness, though he could imagine them perfectly, even
acutely. It was not that he was restless; he was the reverse. It was not
that he liked violent exercise, violent action; he liked nothing
violent. But, instead of sitting in the sunshine, his instinct was to
get a good horse and ride in it; instead of lounging beside a blue sea,
he liked better to be sailing a yacht over it; instead of sitting
contemplatively on a green bank, holding a fishing-rod, he would be more
apt to shoulder a gun and walk, contemplatively too, perhaps, for long
miles, in pursuit of game. In all this he was thoroughly American.

He had a great love for art, and a strong love for beauty, which his
studies in mathematics and science had never in the least deadened. As
regarded determination, he was a very strong man; but he was so quiet
and calm that it was only when one came in conflict with him that his
strength was perceived; and there were not many occasions for coming in
conflict with him now, he was no longer directing large enterprises. In
private life, he was not in the habit of advancing opinions for the rest
of the world to accept; he left that to the people of one idea.

On the present occasion he rode over the pine barrens for miles, every
now and then enjoying a brisk gallop. After a while he saw a phaeton at
a distance, moving apparently at random over the green waste; but he had
learned enough of the barrens by this time to know that it was following
a ro