fool's
hand to block his progress, to thwart his vast projects. Slowly he
became rich, for every piece of steel that went out to the purchasers
was honest steel. Sagacity and loyalty overcame all obstacles. Many a
time he might have sold at a handsome profit. But selling wasn't his
idea; he had a son. Besides, this was his life-work, and he detested
the idle rich, which at that time were just coming into evidence.

He never speculated; but he bought government bonds, railroad bonds,
municipal bonds, for he had great faith in his country. He had the
same faith in his native city, too, for he secured all the bank stock
that came his way. Out of every ten dollars he earned he invested
five, saved three, and spent two. He lived well, but not
ostentatiously. He never gave directly to charities, but he gave work
to hundreds, and made men self-reliant and independent, which is a far
nobler charity. He never denied himself a vacation; he believed that
no man should live and die at his desk. There was plenty of time for
work and plenty for play; but neither interfered with the other. He
was an ardent fisherman, a keen hunter, and a lover of horses.

More than all these things, he was one of those rare individuals one
seldom meets--the born father. He made a man of his son and a woman of
his daughter. When he sent the boy to England, he knew that the boy
might change his clothes, but neither his character nor his
patriotism. He voted independently; he was never a party man; thus,
public office was never thrust in his way. Perhaps he was too frankly
honest. He never worried when his son reached the mating age. "Whoever
my boy marries will be the woman he loves, and he is too much his
father's son not to love among his equals." He was a college-bred man
besides, but few knew this. He had an eye for paintings, an ear for
music, and a heart for a good book. It is this kind of man whom nature
allows to be reproduced in his children.

He was gruff, but this gruffness was simply a mask to keep at arm's
length those persons whom he did not desire for friends.

When he died he left a will that was a model of its kind. There were
not a hundred lines in the document. He divided his fortune into three
parts, but he turned the shops over to his son John, without
stipulations, wholly and absolutely, to do with them as he pleased.
But he had written a letter in which he had set forth his desires. It
may be understood at once that these des