Strange to say, it was absolutely new to this high musical circle, but they went quite mad over it; and the beautiful melody got naturalized from that moment in Belgium and beyond, and Barty was proclaimed the primo tenore of Antwerp-although he was only a bary

tone!

A fortnight after this Barty heard "When other lips" played by the "Guides" band in the park at Brussels. Its first appearance out of England-and all through him.

Then he belonged to the Antwerp "Cercle Artistique," where he made many friends and was very popular, as I can well imagine.

Thus he was happier than he had ever been in his life; but for one thing that plagued him now and again: his oft-recurring desire to be conscious once more of the north, which he had not felt for four or five years.

The want of this sensation at certain periods-especially at night-would send a chill thrill of desolation through him like a wave; a wild panic, a quick agony, as though the true meaning of absolute loneliness were suddenly realized by a lightning flash of insight, and it were to last for ever and ever.

This would pass away in a second or two, but left a haunting recollection behind for many hours. And then all was again sunshine, and the world was made of many friends-and solitude was impossible evermore.

One memorable morning this happiness received a check and a great horror befell him. It was towards the end of summer--just before the vacation.

With a dozen others, he was painting the head of an old man from the life, when he became quite suddenly conscious of something strange in his sight. First he shut his left eye and saw with his right quite perfectly; then he shut the right, and lo! whatever he looked at with the left dwindled to a vanishing point and became invisible. No rubbing or bathing of his eye would alter the terrible fact, and he knew what great fear really means, for the first time.

Much kind concern was expressed, and Van Lerius told him to go at once to a Monsieur Noiret, a professor at the Cath

olic University of Louvain, who had attended him for the eyes, and had the reputation of being the first oculist in Belgium.

Barty wrote immediately and an appointment was made, and in three days he saw the great man, half professor, half priest, who took him into a dark chamber lighted by a lamp and dilated his pupil with atropine and looked into his eye with the newly discovered "ophthalmoscope."

Professor Noiret told him it was merely a congestion of the retina-for which no cause could be assigned; and that he would be cured in less than a month. That he was to have a seton let into the back of his neck, dry-cup himself on the chest and thighs night and morning, and take a preparation of mercury three times a day. Also that he must go to the seaside immediately-and he recommended Ostend.

Barty told him that he was an impecunious art student, and that Ostend was a very expensive place.

Noiret considerately recommended Blankenberghe, which was cheap; asked for and took his full fee, and said, with a courtly priestly bow:

"If you are not cured, come back in a month. Au revoir !"

So poor Barty had the seton put in by a kind of barber - surgeon, and was told how to dress it night and morning; got his medicines and his dry-cupping apparatus, and went off to Blankenberghe quite hopeful.

And there things happened to him which I really think are worth telling; in the first place, because, even if they did not concern Barty Josselin, they should be amusing for their own sake—that is, if I could only tell them as he told me afterwards; and I will do my best!

And then he was nearing the end of the time when he was to remain as other mortals are. His new life was soon to open, the great change to which we owe the Barty Josselin who has changed the world for us!

Besides, this is a biography-not a novel-not literature! So what does it matter how it's written, so long as it's all true!

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

ilton's ideas of government rest on two propositions that government is a device of checks and balances, created by a few thoughtful men, and, under their control, supported by many less thoughtful men, who are protected by the device, and prospered in their affairs as a compensation for their support; and secondly, that property is the basis of government. The New England formulation of the Hamiltonian idea is: Government shall be one of laws, not one of men."

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Jefferson's ideas of government rest also on two main propositions-that government is probably a necessary device, of which the more you have the worse you are off; and that government is founded on persons.

Between Hamilton and Jefferson is Franklin, whose concept of government is that "a general government is necessary for us, and there is no form of government but may be a blessing to the people if well administered."

The eighteenth century was the century of modern political theories. Their influence is seen in the language of all the American and French constitutions of that time. Voltaire set the pace for France, Jefferson for America; and Jefferson is commonly called, in this country, the father of American democracy. Hamilton's and Jefferson's theories of government have been subjected for a century to the severe test which, in Franklin's opinion, discloses whether a government is a blessing or a curse to its people-the test of administration. The nineteenth century has been spent in administering the political theories of the eighteenth. The process has been one of evolution, marked by the emergence of two administrative types-Daniel Webster and Abraham Lincoln.

When Webster died, Lincoln was in his forty-fourth year. These years were the years of Webster's influence and fame. His orations had become a part of the world's literature; his eloquence had become the glory of the nation.

Yet no

trace of Webster's influence on Lincoln exists. The man, the voice, the argument, seem never to have become part of Lincoln's world. Other public men of Lincoln's and of a later generation have made a study of Webster. It is not known that Lincoln ever read a line of his speeches. The obscure Lincoln was as unconscious of Webster as Webster

was unconscious of the plain lawyer of Sangamon County.

Had they known each other, it may be said, they would have remained strangers. It would have been impossible for them to know each other as now the world knows each of them. Each was a type in the administrative evolution of popular government. Webster was admired, but not loved or profoundly trusted by the people. Lincoln trusted the people, and therefore the people trusted him.

Webster's reply to Hayne, and Lincoln's Gettysburg address, the one the longest, the other the shortest, speech of its kind in our history, are also the most famed. Lincoln's is lofty in sentiment and faultless in form; Webster's, less perfect in form, is equally lofty in sentiment, and the sentiment of each, "dear to every American heart," is the liberty and union of the nation. Of all utterances in America during this century we would least willingly let these two utterances die. We cherish them because they embody the dominant cause of the century in America-"Whether the new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal, can long endure." This has been the administrative question of American democracy in the nineteenth century—a question that compelled answer just as the century had lost its youth and was entering upon its responsible manhood; a question which the America of Webster asked, and which, ten years later, the America of Lincoln answered.

So,

residence was necessary to enable the elector to understand communal interests. A religious qualification was necessary as a deterrent of crime. A property qualification was necessary as a safe anchor for the state.

These qualifications limited the electorate; similar qualifications, more exacting, limited candidature. Government was controlled and administered by the few. It was government of the few, by the few, for the many. On the return of America to a peace footing, in 1783, a counter-revolution began. A similar counter-revolution followed the second war with England, the Mexican, and the civil war. These counter-revolutions involved the franchise. By 1810 the first had nearly obliterated the religious qualification of the right to vote. It did not obliterate a quasi-religious test, as a "belief in a future state of rewards and punishments," before they could serve juries or be witnesses; or "a belief in the existence of a Supreme Being" before they could be eligible to office. These qualifications, peculiar to the Southern States from 1835 to 1868, awaited the counter-revolution that followed the civil war, when, save in three, they were abolished. Franklin, in a letter to Priestley, written from Passy in 1784, spoke of the quasi-religious test at that time required by the Constitution of Pennsylvania: "The evil of it is less, as no inhabitant nor officer of the government, except members of Assembly, are required to make the declaration."

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Jefferson had let loose the idea that was to change the state. "The error seems not sufficiently eradicated that the operations of the mind, as well as the acts of the body, are subject to the coercion of the laws. But our rulers can have authority over such natural rights only as we have submitted to them. The rights of conscience we never submitted; we could not submit. We are answerable for them to our God. The legitimate powers of government extend to such acts only as are injurious to others. But it does me no injury for my neighbor to say there are twenty gods or no god. It neither picks my pocket nor breaks my leg. If it be said his testimony in a court of justice cannot be relied on, reject it then, and be the stigma on him. Constraint may make him worse by making him a hypocrite, but it will never make him

a truer man. It may fix him obstinately in his errors, but will not cure them. Reason and free inquiry are the only effectual agents against error; the way to silence religious disputes is to take no notice of them." The application of these liberal ideas has abolished religious tests in this country, save in four commonwealths, and their Constitutions were made a generation ago.

By 1820 the struggle for the franchise was the chief issue before the country. In that year the political reformers in Massachusetts, led by Levi Lincoln, sought to change the basis of representation in the Senate from property to persons. Very distinguished were the men who in the Convention of that year opposed that innovation. Most venerable in years and service was John Adams, the author of the Constitution which they were called to amend. He asserted that the great object of government is to make property secure, and quoted freely from classic history to show that "by destroying the balance between property and numbers, and in consequence, a torrent of popular commotion broke in and desolated the republic of Athens." To change the basis of representation in Massachusetts would cause a like desolation. In these opinions Adams was supported by Justice Story, but by none so ably or successfully as by Webster, who spoke at length on "property the basis of government." So satisfactory was this speech to Webster that a week later he incorporated it in his Plymouth oration. The world has long been familiar with this classic. Its leading passages now seem to belong to the political concepts of ancient times. "If the nature of our institutions be to found government on property, and that it should look to those who hold property for its protection, it is entirely just that property should have its due weight and consideration in political arrangements. Life and personal liberty are no doubt to be protected by law; but property is also to be protected by law, and is the fund out of which the means for protecting life and liberty are usually furnished."

Against Adams and Story and Webster, Levi Lincoln and his political associates spoke in vain. Webster's speech was supposed to be unanswerable. answer slowly came, however, from many voices-not like his, commanding the ear

The

of the nation, but such as are called obscure and feeble. For sixteen years these voices gathered strength. In 1836 Webster was paying his respects, as a Senator of the United States, to the Legislature which had elected him. An amendment to the Constitution was under discussion as he took his seat by the side of the president of the House. A Democratic member was making a vigorous attack upon the idea that property is the basis of government. Had not Webster forever settled that controversy in the convention of 1820? Before he left the chamber the amendment was adopted by a two-thirds vote, and was ratified by the people at the following November election.

A year later, in New York, the struggle for the franchise involved the abolition of property qualifications, the shortening of the term of residence to become an elector, and the extension of the suffrage to persons of color. Tompkins, then just from two terms in the Vice Presidency, was president of the convention, and the leader of the party favoring the extension. There were Federalists and Democrats who opposed the innovation.

Such Federalists as Chancellor Kent and Rufus King, members of the convention, opposed what was then called universal suffrage-a suffrage stripped of a property qualification-and they were joined by Martin Van Buren, the famous lieutenant of the most famous Democrat of this century. These agreed that one branch of the Legislature should represent property; the other, persons. Opposition to the extension of the suffrage to persons of color was grounded on fear. It would endanger the State. Their loyalty could not be relied on. Rufus King pointed out an obstacle in the way of his exclusion. The Constitution of the United States declares that "the citizens of each State shall be entitled to all privileges and immunities of citizens in the several States." In Massachusetts, in New Hampshire, in Vermont, persons of color enjoyed the privilege of voting. If a citizen formerly of one of these States moved into New York, became a citizen, and obeyed the laws, how could he be excluded from the right to vote? The convention replied by inserting in the Constitution a clause enabling male persons of color, qualified by a three years' residence in the State and the possession of property of the value of $250, to vote. For a white

man no property qualification was required, and a residence of but one year. The race question had permanently entered American politics. Of course only free male persons of color were intended in this extension of the franchise. In Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Vermont slavery had been unlawful for nearly half a century. In other Northern States it was lawful in 1820.

Ten years later the struggle for the franchise was a forlorn hope in the Richmond convention. Eighty thousand white male inhabitants of Virginia were disfranchised by the property qualification in the Constitution of 1776. The ideas of these non-freeholders were expressed in a memorial from the nonfreeholders of Richmond. Chief-Justice Marshall presented it, but voted against its favorable consideration. Two ex-Presidents of the United States, James Madison and James Monroe, and a future President, John Tyler, also members of this convention, opposed the abolition of the freehold qualification. Like John Adams in the Massachusetts convention, like Kent and King in New York, like all American statesmen of the eighteenth century, Madison and Monroe drew their premises and political analogies from the history of the Greek and Italian republics. The separation of government from its true basis, property in land, would destroy the state.

Monroe, too feeble in health to continue as presiding officer, made his last public utterance an expostulation against the extension. The best evidence of attachment to the country, he thought, was "some hold in the territory itself; some interest in the soil; something that we own, not as passengers or voyagers, who have no property in the State, and nothing to bind them to it. The object is to give firmness and permanency to our attachment. And these (that is, property qualifications) are the best means by which it may be accomplished. These transient passengers may be foreigners. . . . Ours is a government of the people, .... but the whole system is as yet an experiment; it remains to be seen whether such a government can be maintained." And he thought the extension of the suffrage to non-freeholders too dangerous an innovation. The poor man should be induced to use exertions which would soon obtain for him the right of voting.