e keen morning air. The train service between Gresham, his home
place, and Alton was very bad, necessitating two changes and waits of
hours, and he had fretted at the prospect. When a young man is about to
begin his career, he does not wish to sit hours in dingy little railroad
stations on his way toward it. It was much easier, and pleasanter, to
walk, almost run to it, as he was doing now. His only baggage was his
little medicine-case; his trunk had gone by train the day before. He was
very well dressed, his clothes had the cut of a city tailor. He was
almost dandified. His father was well-to-do: a successful peach-grower
on a wholesale scale. His great farm was sprayed over every spring with
delicate rosy garlands of peach blossoms, and in the autumn the trees
were heavy with the almond-scented fruit. He had made a fortune, and
aside from that had achieved a certain local distinction. He was then
mayor of Gresham, which had a city government. James was very proud of
his father and fond of him. Indeed, he had reason to be. His father had
done everything in his power for him, given him a good education, and
supplied him liberally with money. James had always had a sense of
plenty of money, which had kept him from undue love of it. He was now
beginning the practice of his profession, in a small way, it is true,
but that he recognized as expedient. "You had better get acclimated,
become accustomed to your profession in a small place, before you launch
out in a city," his father had said, and the son had acquiesced. It was
the natural wing-trying process before large flights were attempted, and
the course commended itself to his reason. James, as well as his father,
had good reasoning power. He whistled to himself as he walked along. He
was very happy. He had a sensation as of one who has his goal in sight.
He thought of his father, his mother, and his two younger sisters, but
with no distress at absenting himself from them, although he lived in
accord with his family. Twenty-five miles to his joyous youth seemed but
as a step across the road. He had no sense of separation. "What is
twenty-five miles?" he had said laughingly to his mother, when she had
kissed him good-by. He had no conception of her state of mind with
regard to the break in the home circle. He who was the breaker did not
even see the break. Therefore he walked along, conscious of an immense
joy in his own soul, and wholly unconscious of anything except joy in