culty, at least one of whom, Byles Gridley, A. M., had watched him with
no little interest as a man with a promising future, provided he were not
so astute as to outwit and overreach himself in his excess of
contrivance. His classmates could not help liking him; as to loving him,
none of them would have thought of that. He was so shrewd, so keen, so
full of practical sense, and so good-humored as long as things went on to
his liking, that few could resist his fascination. He had a way of
talking with people about what they were interested in, as if it were the
one matter in the world nearest to his heart. But he was commonly trying
to find out something, or to produce some impression, as a juggler is
working at his miracle while he keeps people's attention by his voluble
discourse and make-believe movements. In his lightest talk he was almost
always edging towards a practical object, and it was an interesting and
instructive amusement to watch for the moment at which he would ship the
belt of his colloquial machinery on to the tight pulley. It was done so
easily and naturally that there was hardly a sign of it. Master Gridley
could usually detect the shifting action, but the young man's features
and voice never betrayed him.

He was a favorite with the other sex, who love poetry and romance, as he
well knew, for which reason he often used the phrases of both, and in
such a way as to answer his purpose with most of those whom he wished to
please. He had one great advantage in the sweepstakes of life: he was
not handicapped with any burdensome ideals. He took everything at its
marked value. He accepted the standard of the street as a final fact for
to-day, like the broker's list of prices.

His whole plan of life was laid out. He knew that law was the best
introduction to political life, and he meant to use it for this end. He
chose to begin his career in the country, so as to feel his way more
surely and gradually to its ultimate aim; but he had no intention of
burning his shining talents in a grazing district, however tall its grass
might grow. His business was not with these stiff-jointed, slow-witted
graziers, but with the supple, dangerous, far-seeing men who sit scheming
by the gas-light in the great cities, after all the lamps and candles are
out from the Merrimac to the Housatonic. Every strong and every weak
point of those who might probably be his rivals were laid down on his
charts, as winds and cu