eached by rail and wire. I
care not its name or size. I'll make it the capital of the Nation.
There'll be poetic justice in setting up my establishment in a fallen
slaveholder's mansion."

The doctor looked intently at the old man:

"The study of men has become a sort of passion with me, but you are the
deepest mystery I've yet encountered in this land of surprises."

"And why?" asked the cynic.

"Because the secret of personality resides in motives, and I can't find
yours either in your actions or words."

Stoneman glanced at him sharply from beneath his wrinkled brows and
snapped.

"Keep on guessing."

"I will. In the meantime I'm going to send you to the village of Piedmont,
South Carolina. Your son and daughter both seem enthusiastic over this
spot."

"Good; that settles it. And now that mine own have been conspiring against
me," said Stoneman confidentially, "a little guile on my part. Not a word
of what has passed between us to my children. Tell them I agree with your
plans and give up my work. I'll give the same story to the press--I wish
nothing to mar their happiness while in the South. My secret burdens need
not cloud their young lives."

Dr. Barnes took the old man by the hand:

"I promise. My assistant has agreed to go with you. I'll say good-bye.
It's an inspiration to look into a face like yours, lit by the splendour
of an unconquerable will! But I want to say something to you before you
set out on this journey."

"Out with it," said the Commoner.

"The breed to which the Southern white man belongs has conquered every
foot of soil on this earth their feet have pressed for a thousand years. A
handful of them hold in subjection three hundred millions in India. Place
a dozen of them in the heart of Africa, and they will rule the continent
unless you kill them----"

"Wait," cried Stoneman, "until I put a ballot in the hand of every negro
and a bayonet at the breast of every white man from the James to the Rio
Grande!"

"I'll tell you a little story," said the doctor with a smile. "I once had
a half-grown eagle in a cage in my yard. The door was left open one day,
and a meddlesome rooster hopped in to pick a fight. The eagle had been
sick a week and seemed an easy mark. I watched. The rooster jumped and
wheeled and spurred and picked pieces out of his topknot. The young eagle
didn't know at first what he meant. He walked around dazed, with a hurt
expression. When at last it dawned on him what