Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1909-01-21
CHAPTER XIV-Continued.

speech, and l soon saw mat IL was WIFI
me. One who is In the habit of address,
ing crowds soon learns to feel the sym
pathy or hostility of those present-it is
like a breath of air or an aroma-and one
is rarely mistaken. The public is ter
rible master, but on occasion ii can be
kind as we'll as cruel, and that day IL was
knd.
In our state the sins of youth have al
ways been considered veuial. and while
/ hoped for nothing more than forgive
ness and forgetfulness, my explanation
and apology seemed to make capital for
me. / was suddenly, and not wholly to
my pleasure, invested with the glamour
of romance. was the lost sheep who had
returned to the fold. and hence there was
more joy over me than over those who
had never had occasion to repent.
My speech was thus, to me. morally a
boomerang. l had made capital out of
my past dissipated life. though not in
tending it, and L felt guilty because the
full truth, the real truth. the story Of the
convict stripes had not been told. The
newspapers took up the cry, they said 1
had made an ample reply to the Infamous
catchword of the opposition, "Where was
Harry when the light went out?" l had
done the manful thing, and since the vul-
lures of the opposition had insisted upon
knowing all about boys light sins, i
had stood uo like a hero and confessed
them. No one could say that l was not
honest. truthful and open.
The campaign presently brought me to
Lexington and there l had a call at the
hotel from Harrison. No one else was in
the room when he entered and he bowed
to me with gravity which was not
wholly without a trace of irony.
You are making a fine campaign. Mr..
Clarke he said: that speech of yours
at Shelbyville explaining the mystery of
your lost years was masterpiece
| regarded him suspiciously, and for a
moment my heart stood still. But man
in public life learns self control, and my
face did not change.
1 said.
ut has earned you at least five thou
sand"
l made no comment on his statement.
| noticed that he was scrupulously
dressed and the dark shade under his
eyes had disappeared.
Il thank you for the speeches you
made for me- / said.
"Oh, you're welcome he replied light
ly. I'm sorry you had to call upon me
something else. Isn't Grey. too. going to
speak for YOU
mot unless he does it of his own &C
cord. l don't want him.
He laughed with sincere spontaneous
mirth.
II don't blame you." he said George
Grey would injure any campaign that
he favored. / think the greatest tribute
to my own ability is the fact that I nearly
nominated him ior governor, despite what
he is
YOU are pretty frank about your late
chief l said.
why not? He probably uses much
rougher words about me. The fool blames
me for the loss of the nomination when
he wouldn't have had the ghost of a
chance alone. And-there are other
things that keep us now from being such
good friends.
1t was on the tip of my tongue to say
Pauline Harmon" but it was merely an
impulse and I restrained it. He spoke
again on my campaign. asking questions
about the feeling in different parts of the
state and volunteering further help. If it
was needed. but l felt all the while that
his talk wars merely perfunctory. 1t was
but the cloak for. a critical examination
of me that he was making, as if he were
seeking to classify me or to infer some
thing from my mental attitude. Harrison,
knew, was a man Of extremely acute
perception. and l felt the old shiver again
although l turned n calm face to him.
Il am going to New York tomorrow"
he said, but I shall return to Kentucky
in time to see you elected"
Il shall be elected. 1 have no doubt of
it, 1 said.
When he left the room my confidence
returned, and when a delegation to see
me entered the doubt was gone entirely.
the campaign was progressing splendidly.
The foolish cry, Where was Harry when
the light went out?'" was no longer raised
and it began to pass from my mind.
The autumn was one of great beauty
in the state of Kentucky. The forests
blazed with red and gold and the air had
all the crisp tonic of youth. The labOrs
of the campaign. which are never light,
had not hurt me, rather I thrived upon
them drawing strength and stimulation
from the excitement, and the alterations
of fear and hope.
Jimmy Warfield arrived at Carlton the
day before the election to bear me COM
pany through the ordeal, as the best man
goes with the bridegroom to the altar
and with perhaps the same uncertainty.
But he breathed only confidence. he was
optimistic, sanguine, irrepressible, the
best of comrades at such time. Sheaves
of kilograms wishing me success arrived
on the eve OF election, and Aunt Jane,
as she carefully stacked them on the
parlor table. watched the pile with pride as
it grew higher and higher. That night,
which was quite cold, we sat with sew
eral other friends who arrived during the
day, and talked of almost everything
except the election. 1t was a cheerful
group and Jimmy Warfield was the life
of 1t.
What office are you going to give me.
Harry he asked.
None 1 replied. You can't have any
except that for which you are chosen by
the people,
But he was the kind whom the people
would always choose. He knew it and
he knew that I knew it.
do not propose to describe election day
nor election night. because both were
uneventful. The returns began to come
early and they were favorable from the
beginning. Although many portions of
eastern Kentucky are far distant from the
railroad and their votes could not be sent
In for several days, the result was known
without the shadow of doubt by midnight
My majority would be at least fifty thou
sand. and Jimmy Warfield, raising, said
gravely:
Harry, you are now the governor
elect of Kentucky"
I was. for the moment, overpowered.
Although knowing that it would come l
could scarcely believe in my own eleva-
ton now that it had come.
Il have had many friends | said, land
now l hope that they will help me-
The words came from the bottom of my
heart