less, even if not positively useful. This attitude he planted and nourished in me, till it became itself a secondary instinct with me, a habit of thought and feeling deeply grounded. And then, when I first left the shelter of his roof and his daily example and counsel, he placed in my hands a paper, written by his hand, though the words were not his. That paper I have still. You could not read it now, so faded are the lines. I read the indellible lines of memory:

"You who are not yet married, . . . keep yourselves for your wives. As you would have them come to you, such ought they also to find you. . . . You look for one pure: be not yourself impure. For it is not true that she is able and you not able. If it were not possible, then she could not be so. But seeing that she can, let it teach you that it is possible. Yet it will be more to your credit if you shall be so. Why? Because the vigilance of parents is a check to her; the very modesty of the weaker sex is a bridle to her; and lastly, she is in fear of the laws, which you do not fear.'

"It was years," continued Dr. Gardner, “before I knew whence that admonition came. Then I chanced upon its source. I have read much and widely, but I have yet to read an appeal more eloquent, more persuasive, more reasonable, whether from the physical or from the moral standpoint, than these simple, homely words that fell, 1500 years ago, from the lips of that strange man in whose heart love and tenderness and sympathy-the sympathy of a man who had himself sounded the depths of vice-battled unceasingly with grotesque, repulsive religious bigotry and fanaticism--Augustine."

Again Dr. Gardner paused, and then returned to the narrative of his personal feelings.

"I still hope for the love of wife and children," he said, "even if it come not till I am fifty years old. And when, if ever, I do meet the woman for whom I am waiting and seeking, I shall be ready to offer her as warm and unclouded a heart and as stainless a life as I shall expect in her."

And I believe you will meet such a woman, Ned," exclaimed Paul impulsively. "I should lose faith in nature if such a life as yours must go unfulfilled and such longings unsatisfied."

"Thank you, Paul," replied Ned, "but I do not feel so sure about it myself. All things look possible at your time

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of life and to your inexperienced eyes. Ten years hence you may see it otherwise. But of one thing we can be sure: whatever befall, we can still be true to ourselves, to our human kind, though every hope wither in our bosoms. And life has many charms for me, even though the greatest charm, the deepest, purest, most ennobling joy and inspiration I have not. Nature does not always reward individual obedience to her highest laws; rather let me say, she does not always reward it as it seems to deserve. We must admit, however, that her failure in this regard is oftener due, as in my own case, to blameworthy interference of man than to the normal operation of her laws. And after all, she invariably bestows upon us the inner reward that comes to the man that does his duty. It is well for us to bear in mind that, rebel at the thought as we may, or calmly submit as we should, the words of the noble woman still hold true, now and for all time:

"No good is certain but the steadfast mind,
The undivided will to seek the good.""

CHAPTER 40

PAUL ENCOUNTERS PRACTICAL POLITICS AND FAILS TO REFORM IT

"REFORMERS are generally killed. And they ought to be killed. And mugwumps ought to be burned alive."

Colonel Rankin slapped his leg viciously as he spoke, as though he wouldn't mind killing a few of the meddlesome fellows himself. Mr. Gray said nothing; and presently the Colonel rose, grasped his hickory walking-stick and shook it in the face of an imaginary reformer, and stalked out.

Paul Granger had entered the Journal office just in time. to hear the Colonel's remark, and waited for Mr. Gray to reply or the Colonel to continue. As no reply or continuation was forthcoming, Granger was left, after Mr. Gray had given him the usual instructions for the day, to follow out for himself the train of thought that had been started. This wholesale denunciation of reformers was not such language as Granger had been accustomed to hear during his student life. What did it mean? That reformers had

often, even if not "generally," been killed, he knew to be a historical fact. But the Colonel's outburst suggested an inquiry, not as to whether reformers ought to be killed, but how far that sentiment of hatred pervaded the minds of men, and what was the general public feeling toward a man or woman who undertook to bring about radical changes in existing social or political conditions.

The inquiry was the more pointed from the fact that the Colonel's remark crystallized in Granger's mind the idea, vague and shadowy up to that time, that, in purpose at least, he was an incipient reformer himself. Nor could he, for the life of him, see why he should be ashamed of his intentions or shrink from trying to carry them out; and yet the bitter words of the hard-headed old Colonel somehow stunned the young man, and made him cringe in spite of himself at the thought of combatting such fierce and contemptuous oppo

sition.

Granger had entered upon his work in the Journal office with all the untamed, unbridled enthusiasm of the raw young man fresh from college, serenely confident that the millennium was about to dawn and that he was one of the Moseses called to lead the hosts forth ficm intellectual and moral bondage. He was fortunate on the whole in the training-school in which he took his first lessons in newspaper-making. The editorial and reportorial force of the Journal had as yet hardly entered upon the process of differentiation and segregation that characterize the metropolitan daily. Mr. Gray, with the simple and indefinite but all-embracing title of " editor," was the life of the Journal, and had been for ten years; indeed, he was the Journal. He fired everybody about him with his own spirit. He kept a firm though kind grasp on the reins of every department of the paper. Merciless and unsparing in his criticism of bad work, he nevertheless made the offender feel, even while smarting under the sting of the blue pencil, that the rebuke was not personal; that it was directed against the work and not the worker. Such was his manner as long as he believed the worker to be doing his best; but once he ceased to believe this, there was no more criticism: the shirker was dismissed forthwith.

Mr. Gray had need of charity and patience during the first months of Granger's apprenticeship. Not only was the

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young man totally ignorant of the duties and details of a newspaper office, but he was almost equally ignorant of men in the relations in which he had now to deal with them. He had lived mainly among books instead of among men. His early life and home influences, especially his father's attitude toward all earthly affairs, had left him, as his father had been, a grown-up child among men.

His habits up to this time had been solitary rather than social. He had had always a few intimate friends, but beyond these he had mingled but little with the people about him. When, therefore, he had to go among men with the express purpose of getting at what they thought, and with the constant necessity of weighing their words and taking their statements with due allowance for prejudice, for unwitting error and for willful deception, he found himself ill adapted to the task. And he was astonished, too, beyond measure to discover how little his university training had done to fit him for the immediate practical duties of his calling. At the end of the first month he was so discouraged as to be well nigh ready to give up the struggle and turn to something else. But Mr. Gray, recognizing the difficulties under which he labored, and appreciating his zeal and willingness, seasoned the severest criticism with some encouragement. Gradually, steadily Granger developed his powers and cultivated in himself the sympathetic spirit that enabled him to enter into the feelings of those who were to him sources of information, whether the persons themselves were high or low, best or worst.

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It was not many months till he had a chance to put his highly wrought theories and sublime assurance to the test. There was to be a city election; and, as sometimes happens, there were several candidates for the mayoralty nomination of the party to which the young would-be reformer and the Journal belonged. Here was the opening for a start in the work of public enlightenment. Granger looked up the "records" of the men who were mentioned," interviewed the men themselves, and gave the results to the public in the columns of the Journal-under the supervising eye and revising blue pencil of Mr. Gray, of course. To Granger it was all as clear as day. Mr. Brown was the man for mayor. His fitness for the office was beyond question. He was honest, broad-minded, level-headed, public-spirited, and had the experience in municipal affairs derived from two

terms of service as alderman from the most intelligent and reputable ward of the city. Granger remarked to Mr. Gray that the city and the party were to be congratulated on having such a man at disposal to administer the duties of chief executive of the city. Mr. Gray said nothing; and to the young man's surprise Mr. Gray and the other owners of the Journal showed no disposition to commit the paper to the fortunes of Mr. Brown in advance of his nomination.

The nominating convention was held. Mr. Brown was not nominated; indeed, he got but a handful of votes and was hardly looked upon as seriously "in the race." Mr. Jones, the incumbent of the office, was renominated, practically without opposition, notwithstanding that he was a man of small caliber and unclean reputation. Still, Mr. Jones was preferable to Mr. Smith, who had been nominated by the other party, not to mention the important differences between the parties themselves. Granger had no doubt about that. Had he not looked up the records of both men? And as it was now a question of "practical politics" and as one of the two would certainly be elected, the sensible and patriotic course was to vote for the better man-or rather the less bad man. There was no gainsaying that proposition. Granger was sure that the Journal had made the merits of the two men and the path of citizen duty so plain that the wayfaring man though a fool could. not honestly-vote for Mr. Smith.

But alas for human hopes built on the shifting sands of politics! The ballot boxes told hard against the honesty of the wayfaring man. Mr. Smith was elected; and not only that, but he received the largest majority that had been given to any mayor in eight years. The morning after the election the Observer, the Journal's rival, hoisted its rooster and under glaring headlines-Granger still had in his pocket the "copy for the headlines with which he had proposed to announce the election of Mr. Jones-declared that the city had been redeemed; that intelligence and patriotism had carried the Smithian banner to victory; that the election of Mr. Smith meant a wholesome reform of the city government. The Journal "bowed to the will of the majority as recorded in the returns, rather than invite civil contention, even though that majority had been secured by corrupt and venal methods."

Granger, never strong at best, was worn out physically