of you in his inmost heart censure the pioneers for their
stratagem? I think not. They worked with what tools lay to their
hands, and the profit is their children's and their children's
children's."

He wisely left it to his listeners to point the parallel, and turned to
discuss the larger issues of the campaign. His canvass chanced among
one of the several battles waged over the national currency, a thorny
topic at best, but Shelby threw a life into the juiceless principles of
his theme which roused the dullest. At the last, referring to the
hardships a depreciated currency might entail on the nation's
pensioners, he turned to the Hon. Seneca Bowers as if his Grant-like
figure typified the great war's heroism, and delivered an impassioned
eulogy upon the soldier dead. It was naturally, convincingly done, and
the audience was loath to find it his peroration.

There was no doubt of his sweeping triumph. With its formal close the
meeting transformed itself spontaneously into a reception, and, under
the spell of his eloquence still, men prophesied that his brilliant
career would halt not short of the governorship. Mrs. Hilliard would
be satisfied with nothing less than the presidency.

"The world his oyster," said Bernard Graves. He had pocketed a sheaf
of stenographic notes, with which he had busied himself during the
latter part of Shelby's speech, and mounted a bench with Ruth, the
better to watch the crowd surge round the foot of the platform. "Shall
we go now?" he asked at length.

Ruth turned from the scene with shining eyes.

"I promised I would tell him what I thought," she answered.

"You promised Shelby!"

"He called the other day--after you had gone. He talks well of
politics. I was interested."

Bernard Graves swallowed something unpalatable.

"And the speech?" he said. "What do you think?"

"That it was remarkable--even brilliant, as they're saying."

"Great is buncombe."

"Don't," she begged. "Why spoil it for me? If nothing more, it proves
him a born orator, who can do what he will with men. I believe in him."

Shelby approached them presently, with the melting of the throng, and
Graves had to listen to an antiphony of praise, sung by Ruth and Mrs.
Hilliard. In a lull he asked Shelby if he admired the oratorical
methods of General Garfield.

"Eh!" said Shelby, abruptly.

"Your manner suggests his at times."

"Yes--oh, yes. I see. Powerful speaker, Garfield. No bad mode