The days which followed the astounding announcement of the Boss of the Independent party were days of strife and consternation. Chaos came out of comparative cosmos. The wheels of machine government were clogged and broken. The organizations were disorganized. Complete revolution had upset the careful planning of years, and the ward buzzard's wings flapped restlessly above the field of battle. The Reform party was shattered on the rock of its own treachery. Some joined the Talbot forces, while many flocked to the Hammond banner. A large contingent of the Francis element divorced itself from that following because of the lessening of future hopes, while other truly independent men, having long followed the hopeless choice of accepting the lesser of two evils, sided with Hammond. The papers now, save the "World" and the "Record," were with him from title to tailpiece, from diamond to pica, and their influence promised to make up for the loss of the vultures who had winged their way to the Talbot camp.

A new suite of offices had been secured by Hammond in one of the downtown skyscrapers and he had had but one occasion to go to the office of the Boss since the new slate had been made out. That was a brief visit after office hours and aside from that he had either used the telephone or sent a messenger. Moreover, when the Boss now wanted to talk with him he went to the office of Hammond, so that the young man had not seen Miss Marion since the night of the revela

tion. The Boss had once, with some degree of reluctance, Hammond thought, suggested that in case he needed the girl he would be glad to "lend" her to him, but Hammond declined with thanks.

By keeping his mind filled with work he tried to crowd out all thoughts of the girl who had hitherto nestled so close to his ambitions. He succeeded in convincing himself that he was a fool to permit himself to become interested in any woman at such a critical period of his career, particularly a woman in the employ of such a man as Francis was. Continual reminders of her came to him as he reviewed reports and files that she had written, and for a time the image conjured up by a tantalized mind troubled him. Gradually, however, by a forced process of reasoning he changed his opinion of her; altered the image that caused his mind unrest; corrected his mistake in believing her refined, cultured-innocent. Then, assured of the finality of his convictions, he worked on with unclouded mind, without another thought of her until one day he met her face to face and alone in the office of the Boss. There, like ice under a summer sun, his coldly constructed opinions were melted in the warmth of her pure smile; his cautiously compiled arguments were openly refuted by the innocence which radiated from every lineament of her person, and he stood before her, flushed, abashed, delighted.

"Why, Mr. Mayor, nee Assessor, where have you been?" she asked, as she exchanged a firm and friendly handclasp.

"Busy, very busy, Miss Goddess," he said, guiltily trying to hide his confusion.

"Too busy even to remember old friends?" she questioned, still smiling.

"No, busy trying not to remember them," he replied, and then as a swift, searching look momentarily checked her smile, he laughed in spite of his feeling and added, "but my attempts have been hopeless."

The smile returned.

"But during all this rush how could

you manage without the aid and suggestions of your private stenographer?" "Consideration compelled me to make up for previously having overworked that lady."

"Necessity knows not even the law of consideration. Now, if I needed you-" She stopped with an embarrassed blush while he looked at her steadily. "If you ever need me, really need me," he said, earnestly, "you can count on me without an instant's hesitation. I must go," he added, abruptly. "I've got to train my verbal artillery for tonight's bombardment," and leaving with her a package of papers for the Boss he went into the street, violently deprecating his weakness, weakly attributing it to her apparently innocent irresistibility.

Yet after seeing her his ambition seemed to have received its second wind. With sharpened wits he hewed his way through the arguments of his. opponents; with a new zest he threw himself into his work. Every hour was filled with making or carrying out plans. He was the commander and the commanded in one. He gave suggesHe gave suggestions to be acted upon, he acted upon suggestions that were given, until at last, late on the night of Tuesday, the third of November, he dropped wearily into a big chair in his apartments and laid aside his hat. A mild breeze sifted into his open window through the barelimbed trees in the park beyond where three year-long months before he had dejectedly sat on a lone bench and felt that all was lost. He had fought his good fight and won. The people had stamped their appreciative approval of him by electing him their mayor. From the opprobrious shafts of humorist and cartoonist he had at least partially vindicated the term, "an honest politician." His face was a bit more haggard and his form somewhat more attenuated than when he began his fight, but as he lighted a cigar and settled back in his chair there flowed through his being a placid physical contentment, the surface of which was ruffled by but one distracting thought, a thought which time and again he

tried to drown, but which ever and anon bobbed lightly to the surface for solution.

"Mr. Mayor." From the lips of half a hundred he had heard it in earnest to-night since the returns were indicant of his election. Restored friends and new acquaintances, patrician and plebian, had spoken it, but not even when the present mayor had thus addressed him while shaking his hand did it give him the thrill that it had on a previous occasion under other circumstances when his election was far less sure. Ah! if only he could convince himself otherwise. If only there were another solution. If instead of seeing it with his own eyes, somebody had but told it to him. What a wife for a politician She would make. What a great help She would be in the struggle that was coming. What an inspiring companion such a girl would be in He checked his thought with a shrug of displeasure, but even as he dreamily exhaled a blue cloud of smoke his thought seemed to complete itself in a suggestive wavering ring of vapor that slowly circled before him.

The jingle of the telephone on the table beside him interrupted his reverie and laying aside his cigar he reached for the instrument.

"Hello," he said.

"Who is this, please?" came the low voice of a woman.

"John Hammond," and his own voice trembled as he said it.

"Mr. Hammond, I need you-urgently," pleaded the voice, "can youwill you come up at once?" "Where are you?"

"At the Francis home."

"I'll be there at once," and dropping the receiver he reached for his hat.

Fifteen minutes later, as he sprang from a hansom, an auto cab rolled up before the Francis residence and a man carrying a small, black case followed him up the steps. They ascended to the second story where they were met by Miss Marion. She quietly opened the door of her employer's sleeping chamber and then stepping aside permitted the two men to pass within.

Before the bed in his shirt and trousers, Francis knelt, his pallid face beautified by an expression of great peace. The doctor motioned toward the door, and as Hammond closed it he loosened the man's shirt and placed his hand over his heart. Its beating had ceased. Rising he made a careful survey of the room and at last, beneath a newspaper on the table, he found an empty wineglass. Sniffing it gently he turned to Hammond. "Cyanide," he said quietly, and dropped the glass into his medicine case.

"I shall notify the papers of this,' said the physician as he stepped toward the door. "The cause of his death was heart failure due to the unusual excitement of this time. I think you understand," he added significantly.

"Perfectly," returned Hammond. As they passed through the hall Miss Marion approached the lawyer. "Will you come into the study a minute?" she asked.

He followed her into the room at the end of the hall where she took from the desk a long envelope which was addressed to Hammond, bearing the inscription: "In case of my death to be read in the presence of my private stenographer."

"I found this on the table beside his bed," she said.

Breaking the seal, Hammond read: "To John Hammond, Esq., I bequeath one hundred thousand dollars to be paid in cash out of my estate: my political power to be bettered by him with the strength that in him lies; also the care of my daughter, Marion Francis. The residue of my estate, including the body and soul of said John Hammond, purchased by me from him on September second, 19-, I bequeath to my daughter, Marion Francis.'

His daughter! Hammond stared wide-eyed at the revelation-the great solution which the will offered. Then, turning to the girl, who sat crying softly in her father's armchair, he handed her the bequest.

A flush crept into her white cheeks as she read it and then without look

ing up she buried her face in her hands.

"Marion," said Hammond quietly, as he stepped over to where she was sitting, "this wish of your father's is my dearest desire. Are you willing that I should take this care and you to keep for always?"

She looked at him through her tear wet eyes.

"Out of gratitude to him?"

"No, from a great love for his daughter."

For a while she sobbed in silence; then looking away from him, she said: "Mr. Hammond, I knew my father better than you did, and far, far better than he, himself, thought I did. knew what his career was; I know how he was estimated in the minds of rightthinking men of to-day; I know, too, that I bear the name that he dishonored. Knowing all these things I stood by him because I loved him dearly. Yet-yet, if you seek to—to—”

"To change your name for my own," he aided.

"Even then you share it," she continued, "and in many personal wayspeople who knew us both say it-I resemble my father."

"You do. I have seen that. What was best in him is a part of you, and there was much that was fine in your father. What he has done in this last election has proven that. He sent himself on the rocks to leave a clear chan

nel for me. He died hoping, praying that I might begin anew and retrieve whatever wrong he did. That with God's help I am going to do, but, dear, I want also the help that you can give."

He bent over the huddled, sobbing form and very gently raised her face to his.

"The body and soul that were mine are yours; won't you take, too, the heart that is yours as well?"

Again she bowed her face into her left hand, but with her right held out to him she nodded her head ever so slightly, and he taking the hand drew her to him and holding her close, buried his face in the fragrant depths of brown, wavy hair.

A

FEW entries from the diary, in which Richard Hudson is mentioned, follow:

"Jan. 4. And I sent Richard Hudson to Cochie to take notis of thinges left in our howses, and delivered them to Shinso Dono, greate Domingo's father, and weare as followeth, viz.:-817 long shething plankes, 136 shorte ditto, 005 square tymbers, 002 ladders, 006 dores for gedonges, and 1 dore lost out of littell howse, 006 windoes to shutt, 002 shipp boates or skiffs, without ores.

"Feb. 12.-I sent Ric. Hudson to fetch back my letter which I wrot to the Precedent at Bantam, dated the 10th present, and sent per James Littell, the Scotchman,

which letter I instantly, at recept thereof, shewed unto Mr. Eaton and Jno. Osterwick, etc.

"May 26.-The X Japon coates or kerremons, sent from the Emperours councell to Capt. Camps (of the Dutch factory) and my selfe for a present, came this day, and we tooke each of us 5. And I gave 3 of myne to Mr. Eaton, Mr. Osterwick, and Ric. Hudson.

"June 3.-As we sat at supper at night, there entred a Japon gentellman into our howse, with 30 or 40 men attending on hym, and came into our halle before we saw hym. Soe I desird hym to sitt downe and take parte of such fare as we had; which he did, and seemed to take it in very kind

parte. And sowne after he sent me a jarr of nipa, or rack of pi, for a present, per one of his gentelmen, per whome I understood his masters name was Ismo Dono, a greate man of Xaxma (Satsuma), whome the king of that place sendes up to Edo to kisse themperours handes and geve hym thankes for the greate presentes and good entertaynment themperour gave hym at his being at Edo. Soe, after his man was departed, I sent Ric. Hudson with Tome, our jurebasso (interpreter) abord his bark (for he passeth secretly, and lodgeth not ashore) to crave pardon of his Lordshipp, yf I had not geven hym such entertaynment as his worth deserved, being ignorant of his greatnesse and abashed at the honour he did me in sending me a present. And withall I sent hym a bottell of strong water which, as it seemed, he took in very kynde part. Ric. Hudson and the jurebasso said he had a very great bark with a faire cabben in it, hanged all about with ruch damask, and attended on with many men, both ould and yong, with greate reverence and silence, their heads bowed downe to the grownd, soe that they judged hym a man of greate qualletie; yet he seemed not to be above xxx yeares of adge."

On November 30th of this year Cocks started on his last recorded journey to Yedo, this time in company with the Dutch head-merchant, Leonard Camps. Before his departure Cocks wrote to the Company a letter, which