very clearness of the figure seems to Mr. Bryan to cast a corresponding light upon the problem involved. This is not demagoguery. It is but native simIt is but native simplicity of mind.

A demagogue, so the first master of politics has told us, is he who flatters the people, not for their own sake, but for his own. Of this Mr. Bryan is not guilty. When he tells the people they can understand finance, he recalls the childhood lessons in fiat money he learned at his father's knee.1 Surely these things are not difficult for the multitude to learn. The self-complacency of the crowd Mr. Bryan has not soothed. He has sought continuously to rouse them from their satisfaction, and he has not allowed his human wish for office to thwart a larger destiny.

Though Mr. Bryan is without intellectual power, he is far from lacking readiness of wit. To his surroundings he is delicately responsive. Those who have often heard him speak in public will readily remember how sensitive he is to the sympathies of his audience, and how swiftly he wins his way toward them. If oratory is Mr. Bryan's single talent, it is a supreme talent. His voice is an organ of a hundred stops, and its modulated music has in it that Celtic strain of human pathos which, rising from the heart, goes to the heart again. No one who has been through the heat and turmoil of a national convention can forget the weary hours of listening with hand to ear for the fragmentary words drifting from the speaker. I have seen twenty thousand men, when Mr. Bryan rose, sit comfortably back in their chairs, knowing that the irritating strain was over. If conversion be the test of oratory, the value of such a mental change in a vast audience can scarcely be over

1 The elder Mr. Bryan received the support of the Greenbackers in his unsuccessful campaign for Congress in 1872. -- THE AUTHOR.

estimated. Credulity ever keeps pace with comfort.

Mr. Bryan's oratory, however, is far more than the possession of the voice of Boanerges. He speaks from conviction, and he speaks with courage. Never has he more assurance, never is he more perfect master of himself, than when he faces a hostile audience. Often indignant, he is never angry; and in moments of emotional stress he hews his speech to the exact line of his meaning, with a precision which would do credit to a discourse in a college lecture-room. To his great speeches posterity will not do justice. Preachers, actors, journalists, orators -all are judged fairly by their contemporaries alone; and, in writing their epitaphs, historians must learn that of them at least it is Tradition that speaks the truth. The magic of voice and gesture, the passion of speech, the dramatic pause which drives the argument home, the captivating assurance of the speaker that the audience must believe in his integrity and in his cause these things lend words a deeper and a more eloquent meaning. These things men remember, but you cannot read them in books. Without a great occasion there can be no great speech. Place, hour, issue, audience, and orator make up one work of art.

I have spoken of Mr. Bryan's simplicity of mind. It is better to be simple in character than simple in mind, and to Mr. Bryan has been vouchsafed this compensation of his defect. The homely virtues which make up the sum of the world's happiness are his in ample measure. He is kind, direct, friendly, conscientious, enormously industrious. He has those natural good manners which Nature meant to bestow on all of us. No hint of humor colors his candid speech. The family virtues are his and the citizen's, and through his whole nature runs a win

ning ingenuousness to which thousands of his chance acquaintance can testify. Mrs. Bryan has somewhere recorded an instance of this naïve quality, which deserves to be repeated. In the year 1890, when Mr. Bryan entered his first race for Congress, he engaged in a joint debate with a certain Mr. Connell who then occupied the seat which Mr. Bryan coveted. Local excitement was intense, and the partisans of both sides packed the house nightly. At the conclusion of the debate Mr. Bryan turned toward his rival with these remarks, which I somewhat curtail:

'Mr. Connell, if I have in any way offended you in word or deed, I offer apology and regret and as freely forgive. I desire to present to you in remembrance of these pleasant meetings this little volume because it contains Gray's "Elegy," in perusing which I trust you will find as much pleasure and profit as I have found. It is one of the most beautiful and touching tributes to a humble life that literature contains. Grand in its sentiment and sublime in its simplicity, we may both find in it a solace in victory or defeat. If it should be your lot

Th' applause of list'ning senates to command, and I am left

A youth to fortune and to fame unknown, forget not us who in the common walks of life perform our part, but in the hour of your triumph recall the verse,

Let not ambition mock their useful toil.' Did ever hero of historic occasion appear in the light of a more engaging simplicity of heart?

Those critics who, in steadily decreasing numbers, ascribe inconsistency to Mr. Bryan's doctrines take small pains to study his record. Those who proclaim him a man of one idea blunder near the truth. He has not a logical mind, but he has logical sympathies, and he has never put forward

an important measure which was not designed to curb the control which the few exercise over the many. His mastery of himself has increased with years; experience has sharpened his political skill; but his ideas are the ideas of his youth. With him the Silver Question, the tariff, government ownership of railroads, control of the 'Money Power,' even the freedom of the Philippines, are but successive phases of a single purpose. No one of his 'issues,' indeed, is so much a distinctive measure of reform as a new voicing of the world-old protest of the sons of Ishmael against the sons of Jacob. From Mr. Bryan's point of view, nothing is more salient about Mr. Bryan's programme than its cohesiveness. To box the political compass a statesman must have either more mind or less character than Mr. Bryan has. An evolution analogous to that of Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Chamberlain, Mr. Roosevelt, or even of Mr. McKinley, is unthinkable for a man whose intelligence is static and whose heart is oak. Any discussion of Mr. Bryan's character leads irresistibly to a comparison with that of his famous antagonist. Not since Plutarch's time has there been a contrast more inviting to the observer who cares to speculate on the chiaroscuro of human nature. Appearing on the national stage within a year of each other, the destinies of both men have been continuously intertwisted. The ifs of history are a profitless speculation, but after the carnival of materialism of the late nineties the people cried aloud for a revivalist, and if the nation had not followed Roosevelt it would have followed Bryan. Both men have preached the same gospel. Bryan preached it first and sowed the seed. Roosevelt preached it afterwards and reaped the harvest. He that sows the good seed, though others reap, is the good husbandman.

And here it is that I come upon an essential difference between the two men, a difference which cuts through flesh and sinew to the heart of each. Mr. Roosevelt has taught the young men of this country to mix success with their ideals. He has made us believe that ideals can be successful, and for this we owe him much; but too often he has made success ideal, and in this he robs us of our birthright. There is success and there are ideals, but between the two there is nothing in common. Indeed, when the ideal is touched by success it ceases to be the ideal, for in that instant new heights are made to climb; and to the unscalable summit Mr. Roosevelt never points. With Mr. Bryan, defeat is but an incident. To press on with undampened ardor, that is success indeed. We can hardly imagine Mr. Roosevelt fighting without the magic of popular applause. We can scarcely think of Mr. Bryan unpurified by popular defeat.

The two men furnish a comparison as striking as their contrast. Both are optimists; both born preachers. Each has the body of an athlete and that Olympian digestion which nowadays the statesman's life demands. Both are fundamental democrats, instinctively reaching over the heads of the politicians to strike hands with the people. Mr. Roosevelt is enormously the more astute; Mr. Bryan the more tenacious. For law as law, Mr. Bryan has a sentiment which to Mr. Roosevelt cannot seem short of mawkish. Again, for Mr. Bryan's consistency Mr. Roosevelt is too practical. Mr. Bryan follows the wide, plain road; for Mr. Roosevelt no by-path is too devious if in the end it will save time and travel. Personal unselfishness has bestowed on Mr. Bryan a moral power which would have given his rival the strength of ten. Chicago and Baltimore are fresh in men's minds. Had Mr. Roosevelt

gone to Chicago to purchase principles at the sacrifice of his own leadership, the Republican party would be to-day united behind a Progressive candidate. The drama at Baltimore had a different ending.

The glamour of the gentleman in politics still plays about Mr. Roosevelt. In a democracy the blood of ancestors tells doubly. Mr. Bryan has never touched the imaginations of college youth, and the gallant doctrine of noblesse oblige has brought no volunteers to his standard. But throughout this country tens of thousands of young men are leading different lives because he lived before them.

I shall never forget Mr. Bryan as I saw him eight years ago. The convention at St. Louis was nearing its predestined close. The conservatives. were in control. The votes to nominate Judge Parker were in the pocket of David B. Hill as he sat at the head of the New York delegation, indulgently allowing the routine of the convention to proceed. In the great hall it was dizzily hot, and toward four in the morning my head fell forward on my desk. Suddenly the sound of music thrilled me. It was Mr. Bryan speaking. He was protesting against the seating of the boss-ridden delegation from Illinois through what he regarded as a fraudulent vote. And then, when his argument was finished, he spoke a few personal words. His career seemed over. The general had returned to the ranks, and this was an apologia pro vita sua. The printed record of that speech I never saw, but the sound of Mr. Bryan's words rings in my ears:

"There are some of you who will say that I have run my race. There are many of you who will maintain that I have fought my fight. But there is not one man here who can say that I have not kept the Faith.'

E. S.

ONE of the foremost figures in American life said a few days since, while addressing a great body of workingmen, that he was opposed to two shifts a day for seven days in the week, and in favor of a law requiring three shifts a day for six days in the week. He was not an employer of the men nor was he a co-employee. His language was calculated to implant firmly in their minds the idea that it was the law which was wrong, and not the employer. He led them to believe that a new law would rectify their grievances, regardless of a change of heart on the part of their employers. He left without telling those unfortunate men when or how they were going to get the law, or how his views, if crystallized into statutory enactment, could be enforced.

Last winter, while storm-bound in Kansas, I met an employer of labor who expressed the opinion that we should have a law to prevent the further continuance of labor unions. He recited at great length what he claimed were the evils arising from these organizations, but he did not tell me when or how he expected to obtain governmental regulation, or, if obtained, how he expected it to be enforced.

For three years, it has been the fortune of politics that I should serve the people of my native state in the office of governor. During that period scarcely a day has gone by without some one's pointing out to me what he claimed to be an evil or an injustice to the public at large or to himself. Invariably, the recital has wound up with

the phrase, 'We should have a law to prevent it.'

Indiana is, I take it, an average state among the forty-eight. Her General Assembly convenes biennially, and remains in session sixty-one days. At the session of 1911, nearly eleven hundred measures were proposed. In the sixty-one days, two hundred and ninetytwo proposals were enacted into statutory law, making a volume of more than seven hundred pages. Take fortyeight states in the Union with their legislative bodies meeting annually, or biennially, and the volume of printed laws becomes appalling. Critical examination of these enactments discloses that but little care is taken to repeal conflicting provisions. Expensive litigation is constantly in progress in every state of this Union to determine whether statutes have or have not been repealed by implication. An illustration of the ever-changing condition of the law because of legislative tamperings is furnished by the answer of a lawyer in Northern Indiana to an inquiry by a client as to the law: 'Do you mean what the law is this morning or what it was last night?' he asked the client. 'What it is this morning,' said the client. 'I don't know,' the lawyer made answer, 'but I'll telegraph to Indianapolis and find out.'

A legislator discovers what he believes to be an evil or an injustice; he suggests a statutory remedy, and succeeds in adding another enactment. It is put to the touchstone of enforcement, whereupon it is found to be a

sympïema..¤ AT HUI TSL. 7ment. Che si cur misases ʼn BIZTOSIS is na nang mi ne got 8 VWLY geed and tha: e vi a few m that the bus memlieny car and that from it be feed 8.

The history of man sine uscireses that this is not true. Beautiful and sweet was the Garden of Eden, but it had its apple tree. Dr. Jekyï is Mr. Hyde not only in fiction, but in history. Among all Protestants, the-two-seed-in-theone-spirit, predestinarian Baptist.hoiding as he does that life is a contest between the good and evil tendencies in man, is actually correct, however mis

e tare tercgically speakThe world is the er or her boy; but this rent maternal judgem as much harm var mode-school sysseneraly admirable, venever it teaches a

mes for mechanics

Alor ́s iste noracie. Great was de iscrter of heart of printing, but IT as been me the American Feesten, ini mdured a monster tons and with an outThat he average man is USE I ▲ Volemess of words and beTotes Tosessed of what he calls opinV ni iy mere prei radine in a newspaper is

an a man to fix a theory urse of conduct.

je ta these wrongs do not of these privileges and beneany mental eyesight is CAMALDAVUST (70 see istinetly. But zer de avi rows out of the good, -ws beside the good. I am quite at he werrine of evolution has evi appears synchron

via ged. Over Wendell Sumes ʼn ledning walking, gave a fur Ilustration of the average life.

e sad that walking was a series of His 177 pies-478. Man gets on in that war Tis definition is pleasing to an cic-asticned Calvinist who believes in the perseverance of the saints. I am convinced that Holland had a true vision when he wrote:

Heaven is not reached at a single bound;
But we build the ladder by which we rise
From the lowly earth to the vaulted skies,
And we mount to its summit, round by round.

But what has this theory of the evolution of evil out of good, or the evolution of evil beside good, to do with society as now constituted? Let me recall that Thomas Jefferson was responsible more than any one else for