by stooping down in my study and
letting him spring over me as my children do.

Almost every autumn I see that old-time schoolboy feat repeated. Mr.
So-and-so says, "You make me governor and I will see that you get to be
senator. Make me mayor and I will see that you become assessor. Get me the
office of street-sweeper and you shall have one of the brooms. You stoop
down and let me jump over you, and then I will stoop down and let you jump
over me. Elect me deacon and you shall be trustee. You write a good thing
about me and I will write a good thing about you." The day of election in
Church or State arrives. A man once very upright in his principles and
policy begins to bend. You cannot understand it. He goes down lower and
lower, until he gets his hands away down on his knees. Then a spry
politician or ecclesiastic comes up behind him, puts his hand on the bowed
strategist and springs clear over into some great position. Good thing to
have so good a man in a prominent place. But after a while he himself
begins to bend. Everybody says, "What is the matter now? It cannot be
possible that he is going down too." Oh yes! Turn-about is fair play. Jack
Snyder holds it against me to this day, because, after he had stooped down
to let me leap over him, I would not stoop down to let him leap over me.
One half the strange things in Church and State may be accounted for by the
fact that, ever since Adam bowed down so low as to let the race, putting
its hands on him, fly over into ruin, there has been a universal and
perpetual tendency to political and ecclesiastical "leap-frog." In one
sense, life is a great "game of ball." We all choose sides and gather into
denominational and political parties. We take our places on the ball
ground. Some are to pitch; they are the radicals. Some are to catch; they
are the conservatives. Some are to strike; they are those fond of polemics
and battle. Some are to run; they are the candidates. There are four
hunks--youth, manhood, old age and death. Some one takes the bat, lifts it
and strikes for the prize and misses it, while the man who was behind
catches it and goes in. This man takes his turn at the bat, sees the flying
ball of success, takes good aim and strikes it high, amid the clapping of
all the spectators. We all have a chance at the ball. Some of us run to all
the four hunks, from youth to manhood, from manhood to old age, from old
age to death. At the first hunk we bound with uncontrol