h
the complacent smile crack his features as he sits listening to
Senator Myton: "Mr. Barclay, do you know, I sometimes think that
Providence manifests itself in minds like yours, even as in the days
of old it was manifest in the hearts of the prophets. In those days it
was piety that fitted the heart for higher things; to-day it is
business. You and a score of men like you in America are intrusted
with the destiny of this republic, as surely as the fate of the
children of Israel was in the hands of Moses and Aaron!"

Barclay closed his eyes a moment, in contemplation of the figure, and
then broke out in a roaring laugh, "Hanno is a god! Hanno is a
god!--get out of here, Henry Myton,--get out of here, I say--this
is my busy day," and he laughed the young senator out of the room. But
he sat alone in his office grinning, as over and over in his mind his
own words rang, "Hanno is a god!" And the foolish parrot of his other
self cackled the phrase in his soul for days and days!

It is our high privilege thus to stand close by and watch the wheels
of the world go around. In those days of the late nineties Barclay
travelled up and down the earth so much in his private car that Jane
used to tell Molly Brownwell that living with John was like being a
travelling man's wife. But Jane did not seem to appreciate her
privilege. She managed to stay at home as much as possible, and
sometimes he took the Masons along for company. Mrs. Mason gloried in
it, and lived at the great hotels and shopped at the highest-priced
antique stores to her heart's delight. Lycurgus' joy was in being
interviewed, and the Barclay secretaries got so that they could edit
the Mason interviews and keep out the poison, and let the old man
swell and swell until the people at home thought he must surely burst
with importance at the next town.

One day in the nineties Barclay appropriated a half-million dollars to
advertise "Barclay's Best" and a cracker that he was pushing. When the
man who placed the business in the newspaper had gone, Barclay sat
looking out of the window and said to his advertising manager: "I've
got an idea. Why should I pay a million dollars to irresponsible
newspapers? I won't do it."

"But we must advertise, Mr. Barclay--you've proved it pays."

"Yes," he returned, "you bet it pays, and I might just as well get
something out of it besides advertising. Take this; make five copies
of it; I'll give you the addresses later." Barclay sq