this thing along and slide it through the Senate this afternoon, before
they got wind of it."

"He'll squeal, all right, until you smother him," Mr. Young observed.

"We'll smother him some day!" replied the Colonel, savagely.

Mr. Young laughed.

But as I made my way toward the State House I was conscious of a feeling
of relief. I had no sooner gained a front seat in the gallery of the
House of Representatives when the members rose, the Senate marched
gravely in, the Speaker stopped jesting with the Chaplain, and over the
Chaplain's face came suddenly an agonized expression. Folding his hands
across his stomach he began to call on God with terrific fervour, in an
intense and resounding voice. I was struck suddenly by the irony of it
all. Why have a legislature when Colonel Paul Varney was so efficient!
The legislature was a mere sop to democratic prejudice, to pray over it
heightened the travesty. Suppose there were a God after all? not
necessarily the magnified monarch to whom these pseudo-democrats prayed,
but an Intelligent Force that makes for righteousness. How did He, or It,
like to be trifled with in this way? And, if He existed, would not His
disgust be immeasurable as He contemplated that unctuous figure in the
"Prince Albert" coat, who pretended to represent Him?

As the routine business began I searched for Krebs, to find him presently
at a desk beside a window in the rear of the hall making notes on a
paper; there was, confessedly, little satisfaction in the thought that
the man whose gaunt features I contemplated was merely one of those
impractical idealists who beat themselves to pieces against the forces