as came to
him with faithfulness and ability,--yet what had he really contributed
to the community or to the life in which he lived which made it better
because he had been a part of it? He had created nothing, nor even made
an effort to create. No painting bore his signature; no volume added
his contribution to the world's knowledge on any subject; no
philanthropic or business enterprise owed its inception to his
initiative; no child of his was growing up to bear its share in the
struggle of to-morrow or to bless his memory for parental sacrifice and
guidance. Hamlen at least had given himself to the world in the
wonderful volumes which would live after him, even though their
creator's identity never was disclosed. Hamlen at least had made the
flowers and the shrubs of his island estate bear witness to the power
within him which refused to be restrained; but Huntington's labors, if
he could dignify them by so serious a name, had been perfunctory at
best. He was rich in the world's goods and in human friendships, he was
respected by all who knew him. For what? he demanded: because his
grandfather and his father before him had created, and had played their
part so well in the developing life of the city of their birth that a
luster had been given to the family name. His virtues were wholly
negative; his was a reflected glory and undeserved. The position in the
community which Huntington knew himself to occupy, and the fact that
Hamlen, because of his exile, would be considered to have forfeited his
position, struck him as a commentary on the value of popular esteem and
the lack of proportion in accrediting to each individual what was his
proper due.

Hamlen had nothing to his credit in the columns where Huntington scored
heaviest: he was a poor citizen in his relations to those around him; he
took no part in making others happier for his companionship or stronger
by his example; his life had always been pointed inward, and yet, even
with the limitations needlessly imposed upon it, there had been
something within him, which Huntington had never felt within himself,
great enough and strong enough to rise superior to these limitations, to
burst the bonds by which Hamlen had sought to hold it back, and to force
the expression of its own individuality! There, at least, was something
positive; and yet the world would have called Huntington a success and
Hamlen a failure! "We have torn off the bandages too fast," Huntington
ha