ans, Harvey now had before him an
opportunity which was not afforded by the sedate old North American
Review and he promptly took advantage of it. He had seen enough of
the union of finance and politics to place little faith in either
of the old parties. One was corrupt and powerful; the other was
weak and parasitical. In both organizations money was a compelling
consideration. Not being accustomed to think in terms of party
allegiance Harvey decided that the only remedy for a very bad
situation was a militant Democracy. He had the organ; next he
needed the leader.

About this time, quite accidentally, he was present at Woodrow
Wilson's inauguration as president of Princeton University. The
professor appealed to the editor,--why, one can only conjecture.
Perhaps it was a common abhorrence of machine politics, a passion
for phrase turning, for there is a similarity in the methods of the
two which separates them from the rank and file of ordinary
politicians. Harvey scrutinized Wilson more carefully, making a
political diagnosis by a careful examination of his works, and
decided that he was the man to turn the trick.

But the gap between the presidency of Princeton and the Presidency
of the United States was too wide to be taken at one leap. Harvey
concluded that the governorship of New Jersey must be the
intermediate step. The Democratic year of 1910 provided the
opportunity.

The New Jersey politicians did not care about the college
professor. They had already chosen a candidate, but Harvey induced
them to change their minds. How this was accomplished is an
absorbing political tale, too long to be narrated here. The New
Jersey political leaders of that period will tell you that if Mr.
Wilson's "forward-looking" men had controlled the convention he
never would have been nominated. They will also tell you how Joseph
Patrick Tumulty opposed the nomination. They will even whisper that
the contests were settled rather rapidly that memorable evening.
After the nomination was announced, Mr. Wilson's managers escorted
him to the convention hall where he addressed a group of delegates
who were none too enthusiastic.

As they motored back to the hotel Mr. Wilson is reported to have
asked: "By the way, gentleman, what was my majority?"

To which Mr. Nugent replied cryptically: "It was enough."

The question, at least in the presence of these gentlemen, it is
said was never asked again.

Much has been said about the brea