oss as two sticks, but the
resemblance is acute, odd as it may appear. Those things are very
subtle, very subtle."

Gwynne had heard the keys of his secret weakness tinkle for a full bar,
but while it improved his humor it did not cloud his judgment, and he
applied himself to finding out the purpose of the man's visit.

"I regret very much that I have come too late to know any of my male
relatives," he said, affably. "Hiram Otis, from all I hear, was an able
man, if somewhat soured, and his unfortunate brother one of the most
brilliant lawyers of his day. Terrible thing, this reckless drinking in
San Francisco. I was told yesterday that when--a few years ago--an
editor was sent out from New York to assume charge of one of your most
flourishing dailies, he made the entire staff go down to Los Gatos and
take the Keeley cure. Then, for a time, he had _relays_ of sober men, at
least, but until then he had felt himself a lonely Philistine--besides
taking a hand in every department of the 'shop,' even setting type at
times. But it's a fascinating old town, all the same. Too fascinating, I
fear." And he managed to fetch a remorseful sigh.

The judge, who had laughed heartily at the anecdote, dismissed his
twinkle for a moment, and looked at the young man with concern.

"For God's sake," he said, softly, "don't tell me that you have
inherited that microbe."

"Oh no, indeed!" said Gwynne, cheerfully. "I never could take to drink
now--a man's character is pretty well formed at thirty-two, I fancy, and
I scarcely ever touch spirits when alone--prefer the lighter wines.
Only, as San Francisco is so convivial, one naturally imbibes a good
deal, especially with friends addicted to the 'cocktail route'--and I am
afraid I shall have to give up the city for the present and stick to
work."

"The judge tells me that your legal powers are really amazing--that you
have accumulated more law in four months--"

"Tut! Tut!" cried Gwynne, springing to his feet and reaching the table
in a stride. "Have some more whiskey, judge. And don't flatter me any
more. I am afraid that vanity is my besetting weakness--"

"Thank God it is not the other!" said the older man, fervently. "And
vanity keeps the heart younger than anything I know of. Lose the power
of being tickled by a compliment and inflated by success, and you lose
the salt of life. But I am delighted that you have taken to the law. I
know your English career like a book, and although