an; but he cast a backward glance which
said as plainly as a glance can speak, "I wish I were out of this!"

Meanwhile, with an absent but happy smile, the old Blaine man was
beating time to the vast waves of sound that rose and swelled above the
band, above the cheering, above the cries of anger and scorn, the
tremendous chorus that had stiffened men's hearts as they marched to
death and rung through streets filled with armies and thrilled the
waiting hearts at home:

"Three cheers for the red, white and blue!
Three cheers for the red, white and blue!
The army and navy for ever, three cheers for the red, white and
blue!"

But when the chairman had stilled the tumult and made his grim comment,
"There appear to be enough delegates left to transact business," the old
partisan cast his eyes down to the floor with a chuckle. "I can't see
the hole they made, it's so small. Say, ain't he a magnificent
chairman; you can hear every word he says!"

"Bully chairman," said a cheerful "rooter" in the rear, who had enjoyed
the episode more than words can say, and had cheered the passing of
Silver with such choice quotations from popular songs as "_Good-by, my
lover, good-by_," and "_Just mention that you saw me_," and plainly felt
that he, too, had adorned the moment. "I nearly missed coming this
morning, and I wouldn't have missed it for a tenner; they're going to
nominate now."

The old man caught his breath; then he smiled. "I'll help you shout
pretty soon," said he, while he sat down very carefully.

The "rooter," a good-looking young fellow with a Reed button and three
or four gaudy badges decking his crash coat, nodded and tapped his
temple furtively, still retaining his expression of radiant good-nature.
The Canton man nodded and frowned.

I felt that the Canton man need not be afraid. Somehow we were all
tacitly taking care that this poor, bewildered soul should not have its
little dream of loyal, unselfish satisfaction dispelled.

"Ah, my countrymen," I thought, "you do a hundred crazy things, you
crush _les convenances_ under foot, you can be fooled by frantic
visionaries, but how I love you!"

It was Baldwin of Iowa that made the first speech. He was one of the
very few men--I had almost said of the two men--that we in the galleries
had the pleasure of hearing; and we could hear every word.

He began with a glowing tribute to Blaine. At the first sentence our old
man flung his gray head in t