, the inferiority of his race to the English, traced
its miseries to its silly pride, opposed all schemes of progress until
his principle was accepted, and placed the salvation of his people in
that moment when they should have admitted the inferiority imposed by
nature, and laid aside their wretched conceit. This perverse nature had
a sociable, even humorous side, and in a sardonic way loved its own.

"I have often wondered," Arthur said, when they were discussing the
details of the mission to Livingstone, "how your tough fiber ever
generated beings so tender and beautiful as Mona, and Louis, and the
Trumps. And now I'm wondering why Sullivan associates you and me in this
business. Is it his plan to sink the Mayor deeper in his own mud?"

"Whatever his plan I'd like to know what he means in sending with me to
the noblest official in the city and the land, for that matter, the
notorious orator of a cheap banquet."

"I think it means that Quincy must apologize to the Irish, or nominate
himself," said Arthur slowly.

A lively emotion touched him when he first entered the room where the
Mayor sat stately and gracious. In him the Endicott features were
emphatic and beautiful. Tall, ruddy, perfectly dressed, with white hair
and moustache shining like silver, and dark blue eyes full of fire, the
aristocrat breathed from him like a perfume. His greeting both for
Everard and Dillon had a graciousness tinged with contempt; a contempt
never yet perceived by Everard, but perceived and promptly answered on
Arthur's part with equal scorn.

"Mr. Dillon comes from Sullivan," said Everard, "to ask you, as a
condition of renomination, that you take back your remarks on the Irish
last winter. You did them good. They are so soaked in flattery, the
flattery of budding orators, that your talk wakes them to the truth."

"I take nothing back," said the Mayor in a calm, sweet voice to which
feeling gave an edge.

"Then you do not desire the nomination of Tammany Hall?" Arthur said
with a placid drawl, which usually exasperated Everard and other people.

"But I do," the Mayor answered quickly, comprehending on the instant the
quality of this antagonist, feeling his own insolence in the tone. "I
merely decline the conditions."

"Then you must nominate yourself, for the Irish won't vote for you,"
cried Everard.

"The leaders would like to give you the nomination, Mr. Livingstone. You
may have it, if you can find the means to placate of