ndered eternally in the horses' hoofs
at Arbela and in the guns at Waterloo. Ideals were here at stake--the
dreams of one man as opposed perhaps to the ultimate dreams of a city
or state or nation--the grovelings and wallowings of a democracy
slowly, blindly trying to stagger to its feet. In this
conflict--taking place in an inland cottage-dotted state where men were
clowns and churls, dancing fiddlers at country fairs--were opposed, as
the governor saw it, the ideals of one man and the ideals of men.

Governor Swanson decided after mature deliberation to veto the bill.
Cowperwood, debonair as ever, faithful as ever to his logic and his
conception of individuality, was determined that no stone should be
left unturned that would permit him to triumph, that would carry him
finally to the gorgeous throne of his own construction. Having first
engineered the matter through the legislature by a tortuous process,
fired upon at every step by the press, he next sent various
individuals--state legislators, representatives of the C. W. & I.,
members of outside corporations to see the governor, but Swanson was
adamant. He did not see how he could conscientiously sanction the
bill. Finally, one day, as he was seated in his Chicago business
office--a fateful chamber located in the troublesome building which was
subsequently to wreck his fortune and which was the raison d'etre of a
present period of care and depression--enter the smug, comfortable
presence of Judge Nahum Dickensheets, at present senior counsel of the
North Chicago Street Railway. He was a very mountain of a man
physically--smooth-faced, agreeably clothed, hard and yet ingratiating
of eye, a thinker, a reasoner. Swanson knew much of him by reputation
and otherwise, although personally they were no more than speaking
acquaintances.

"How are you, Governor? I'm glad to see you again. I heard you were
back in Chicago. I see by the morning papers that you have that
Southack public-service bill up before you. I thought I would come
over and have a few words with you about it if you have no objection.
I've been trying to get down to Springfield for the last three weeks to
have a little chat with you before you reached a conclusion one way or
the other. Do you mind if I inquire whether you have decided to veto
it?"

The ex-judge, faintly perfumed, clean and agreeable, carried in his
hand a large-sized black hand-satchel which he put down beside him on
the floor.