catch a light even from
Lorne Murchison.

"You keep your hair on, Lorne," he advised. "We ain't going to get such
big changes yet. An' if we do the blooming syndicates 'll spoil 'em for
us."

There were even dissentients among the farmers. The voice of one was
raised who had lived laborious years, and many of them in the hope of
seeing his butter and cheese go unimpeded across the American line. It
must be said, however, that still less attention was paid to him, and it
was generally conceded that he would die without the sight.

It was the great topic. The day Wallingham went his defiant furthest
in the House and every colonial newspaper set it up in acclaiming
headlines, Horace Williams, enterprising fellow, remembered that Lorne
had seen the great man under circumstances that would probably pan out,
and send round Rawlins. Rawlins was to get something that would do to
call "Wallingham in the Bosom of his Family," and as much as Lorne
cared to pour into him about his own view of the probable issue. Rawlins
failed to get the interview, came back to say that Lorne didn't seem
to think himself a big enough boy for that, but he did not return
empty-handed. Mr Murchison sent Mr Williams the promise of some
contributions upon the question of the hour, which he had no objection
to sign and which Horace should have for the good of the cause. Horace
duly had them, the Express duly published them, and they were copied in
full by the Dominion and several other leading journals, with an amount
of comment which everyone but Mrs Murchison thought remarkable.

"I don't pretend to understand it," she said, "but anybody can see
that he knows what he's talking about." John Murchison read them with a
critical eye and a pursed-out lip.

"He takes too much for granted."

"What does he take for granted?" asked Mrs Murchison.

"Other folks being like himself," said the father.

That, no doubt, was succinct and true; nevertheless, the articles
had competence as well as confidence. The writer treated facts with
restraint and conditions with sympathy. He summoned ideas from the
obscurity of men's minds, and marshalled them in the light, so that many
recognized what they had been trying to think. He wrote with homeliness
as well as force, wishing much more to make the issue recognizable than
to create fine phrases, with the result that one or two of his sentences
passed into the language of the discussion which, as any of its
standar