ce by which each soul is a person; the result of the
two so wholesome a product of young manhood that no one realized under
the frank and open manner a deep reticence, an intensity, a
sensitiveness to impressions, a tendency toward mysticism which made the
fibre of his being as delicate as it was strong.

Suddenly, in a turn of the wheel, all the externals of his life changed.
His rich father died penniless and he found himself on his own hands,
and within a month the boy who had owned five polo ponies was a
hard-working reporter on a great daily. The same quick-wittedness and
energy which had made him a good polo player made him a good reporter.
Promotion came fast and, as those who are busiest have most time to
spare, he fell to writing stories. When the editor of a large magazine
took one, Philip first lost respect for that dignified person, then felt
ashamed to have imposed on him, then rejoiced utterly over the check.
After that editors fell into the habit; the people he ran against knew
about his books; the checks grew better reading all the time; a point
came where it was more profitable to stay at home and imagine events
than to go out and report them. He had been too busy as the days
marched, to generalize, but suddenly he knew that he was a successful
writer; that if he kept his head and worked, a future was before him. So
he soberly put his own English by the side of that of a master or two
from his book-shelves, to keep his perspective clear, and then he worked
harder. And it came to be five years after his father's death.

At the end of those years three things happened at once. The young man
suddenly was very tired and knew that he needed the vacation he had gone
without; a check came in large enough to make a vacation easy--and he
had his old dream. His fagged brain had found it but another worry to
decide where he should go to rest, but the dream settled the vexed
question off-hand--he would go to Kentucky. The very thought of it
brought rest to him, for like a memory of childhood, like a bit of his
own soul, he knew the country--the "God's Country" of its people--which
he had never seen. He caught his breath as he thought of warm, sweet air
that held no hurry or nerve strain; of lingering sunny days whose hours
are longer than in other places; of the soft speech, the serene and
kindly ways of the people; of the royal welcome waiting for him as for
every one, heartfelt and heart-warming; he knew it all f