ade his crossings without mishap. Undisturbed
by dogs, he landed at the _Post_ building, and in time blundered into a
room described as "Editorial" on the glass-door. A friendly young girl
sitting there, pounding away on a typewriter, referred him to the next
office, and the young man, opening the connecting door without knocking,
passed inside.

A full-bodied, gray-headed, gray-mustached man sat in his shirt-sleeves
behind a great table, writing with a very black pencil in a large
sprawling hand. He glanced up as the door opened.

"Colonel Cowles?"

"I am the man, sir. How may I serve you?"

Queed laid on the table the card West had given him with a pencilled
line of introduction.

"Oh--Mr. Queed! Certainly--certainly. Sit down, sir. I have been
expecting you.--Let me get those papers out of your way."

Colonel Cowles had a heavy jaw and rather too rubicund a complexion. He
looked as if apoplexy would get him some day. However, his head was like
a lion's of the tribe of Judah; his eye was kindly; his manner
dignified, courteous, and charming. Queed had decided not to set the
Colonel right in his views on taxation; it would mean only a useless
discussion which would take time. To the older gentleman's polite
inquiries relative to his impressions of the city and so forth, he for
the same reason gave the briefest possible replies. But the Colonel, no
apostle of the doctrine that time is far more than money, went off into
a long monologue, kindly designed to give the young stranger some idea
of his new surroundings and atmosphere.

"... Look out there, sir. It is like that all day long--a double stream
of people always pouring by. I have looked out of these windows for
twenty-five years, and it was very different in the old days. I remember
when the cows used to come tinkling down around that corner at
milking-time. A twelve-story office building will rise there before
another year. We have here the finest city and the finest State in the
Union. You come to them, sir, at a time of exceptional interest. We are
changing fast, leaping forward very fast. I do not hold with those who
take all change to be progress, but God grant that our feet are set in
the right path. No section of the country is moving more rapidly, or, as
I believe, with all our faults, to better ends than this. My own eyes
have seen from these windows a broken town, stagnant in trade and
population and rich only in memories, transform itself into th