The Art of Disappearing

, all his natural shrewdness and rich experience going for naught before the witchery of his sister's imagination. In her mind the climax of the drama was a Dillon at the top of the heap in

of social forces, where no artillery roars, no uniforms glare, and no trumpets sound for the poets. The time having come for action he gave Arthur his orders on the supposition that he understood the political situati

w where he got that bee in his bonnet. Then arrange with Everard to call on Living

o destroy that exquisite fabric woven of moonlit seas, enchanting dinners, and Parisian millinery. Never! Let the chief commit that sacrilege! He would not say the word whose utterance might wound the hearts that loved him. The Senator and

ut enthusiasm or dash, he could be stubbornly great in defence of principle. Success and a few millions had not changed his early theories of life. Pride in his race, delight in his religion,

n us has increased since the war. Sullivan can have the position if he wants it. So can many others. All of them can afford to wait, while I cannot. I am not a politician, only a candidate. At any moment, by the merest acci

ave influence?" s

tary," Birmingham

use it in behalf

r uncle sho

appy to give y

nk as one before whom a

have been absent too long to grasp the sit

y man," murmu

k he has not much

know it still better. The exploits of the Senator in his youth-really

icately. "You are quite right. He should not expose himself. As no

er for me. Beyond lie the governorship, the senate, and perhaps higher things. To us these high office

and the shining ambition of his mother. How could he shatter their dreams? Yet in very pity the tas

will say if you come into

ed the Senator gayly. "If I'd listen

ercame him, and he

ay the sa

first city in the land"-Oh, the smile which flashed on the faces of Anne and the Senator at this phrase!-"you become also the target of every journal in the country, of every comic paper, of every cartoonist. All your little faults, your blunders, pas

enator's. He did not illustrate his contention with examples, for with these the Senator and his friends wer

. You've put me on the right

, "since it's plain he wants me to gi

be done," she replied w

the Senator. "He has us all und

Senate, rig me out as a gladiator, without a stitch on me, actually, Artie, not a stitch-most indecent thing-and show old Cicero in the same picture looking at me like John Everard, with a sn

Arthur suggested. "I would like to

Anne limp with disappointment-"unless I take

e cry of joy and

that word, Senator. It'

e," Arthur said seriously, accepting the hin

his reputation reflected on its usefulness. Nature had not yet provided a key to the character of Louis' father. Arthur endured him because Louis loved him, quoted him admiringly, and seemed to understand him most of the time; but he could not understand an Irishman who maintained, as a principle of history, the inferiority of his race to the English, t

ur tough fiber ever generated beings so tender and beautiful as Mona, and Louis, and the Trumps. And now I'm wonde

g with me to the noblest official in the city and the land,

t apologize to the Irish, or nomi

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

, that you take back your remarks on the Irish last winter. You did them good. They are so

e Mayor in a calm, sweet voice

ny Hall?" Arthur said with a placid drawl, whic

he instant the quality of this antagonist, feeling his own

rself, for the Irish won't

e. You may have it, if you can find the means to placate offended

nees at once, Mayo

a gesture for his companion. "He's a Crusoe in politics. There's no one else on his island. You have a h

of your policy at the Donnybroo

for silence, and took

are responsible for the deviltries practised upon them through gospel missions, soup kitchens, kidnapping industries, and politica

ing to make your famous speech over ag

t what I have spo

ot interested in what some people say of me. Tell Mr. Sullivan I am ready t

fault could be found; and, though his inexperience was evident, he handled a ready blade and made no secret of his disdain. Arthur did not

: you must nominate y

vide th

descended to say, for he was amused at the simple horror o

id us, Arthur Dillon, of Sullivan and his kind, w

ing the prejudices of race and creed into city politics. If Your Honor runs on an independent ticket, the Irish will vote against you to a man. One would think

d humor, but at the same time to prevent the ascendancy of a particular race, except the native. It is the Ir

e beyond his political depth, and was glad to make his adieu to t

ed gentleman," said he to Everard,

ettors. The report of Arthur disquieted the Chief and

name. His independence is popular, and does no harm. He hasn't the interests of the party at heart though. The

after a respectful silence, "would be as to

echoed th

se before him, strange names uttered themselves. Mark Antony and young Octavius and weak Lepidus! He felt suddenly the seriousness of life, and wonder at the ways of men; for he had never stood so near the little gods that harness society to

ght. If you want to see the working out of principles keep

ue things, which touched his own life afterwards very closely, he kept in mind. Trotting

him. He's the man tha

it was Jo

lf," said Grahame savagely. "B

jaundice, gloomy in expression; the mouth drooped at the corners, and the e

a chance to make a mud pie. The independent ticket is his pie this year. He secured Livingstone to bake it, for he's no baker himself. He believes in God, but still more does he believe that the Catholics of this city shoul

newspapers," Arthur complained. "Bl

against a domineering boss. Private: to shake the Irish in politics. Do you see? Now, here is a campaign going on. It began last week.

the pleasant celebration of St. Patrick's day. Rev. Mr. McMeeter, evangelist of the expansive countenance, was warming up

coon did the serpents

the platform, the sinuous gestures, the rendings of the enemy; until that moment when he drew the bars of hell for the unrepentant, and flung Rome into the abyss. This effective performance, inartistic and almost grotesque, never fell to the

aid Grahame. "These brands

a sinner, a slave of Rome, a castaway bound hand and foot to degrading superstition, until rescued by the noblest of men and led by spirit into the great work of rescuing others from the grinding slavery of the Church of Rome. Very te

e spirit works,

lled her out of her name; and also gave the evangelist a slap in the stomach which taught him a new kind of convulsion. His aids fell upon the stout woman, the tough men of the audience fell upon the aids, the mother of Ellen began shrieking, and some respectable people ran to the door to call the police. A single policeman entered cooly, and laid about him with his stick so as to hit the evangelists with f

bout the town. Little Ellen was lucky to see her mother again. Most of these stolen children are sh

ught to be abo

e, the Escaped Nun, is one of his methods. We'll go and see her too. She lectures at Chickering Hall to-night ... comes on about half after nine-tells all about her escape from a prison in a convent ... how s

nvious," Ar

cent being virtuous, and Sister Claire cle

gious interest. Amid a profound stillness, she came upon the stage from a rear door, ushered in by an impressive clergyman; and walked forward

hispered. "Costume in

ead and uplifted eyes, her hands clasped, a picture of beauty. After a gasp and a pause the audience broke into warm applause long continued. In a sweet and sonorous voice she made her speech, and told her story. It sounded like the Lady of the Lake at times. Grahame yawned-he had heard it so often. Arthur gathered that she had somewhere suffered the tortu

ed again. "But it won't pay. Her revelations

nner, yet he had the puzzling sense of having met her long ago, that her personality was not unfamiliar. Still her features baffled the s

motions, but also the unspoken thoughts, the mute feelings, the cloudy convictions of the simple multitude. He is their interpreter to themselves. The thought gave him reverence for that power which had lain long dormant in him until sorrow waked its noble harmonies. The ferment in the city astonished him. The very boys fought in the vacant lots, and reveled in the strategy of crooked streets and blind alleys. Kindly women, su

ghting for a footing on new soil, and a successful few, who had forgotten the sufferings, the similar struggle of their fathers. He rejoiced when Birm