the contending parties in England, and he was marked as a great man by those astute French statesmen who were watching with delight the opening of this very promising rift in the British Empire. Anger, like water, subsides quickly after the tempest ceases. As each day in its flight carried the Stamp Act and the repeal more remotely into past history, the sanguine and peaceably minded began to hope that England and the colonies might yet live comfortably in union. It only seemed necessary that for a short time longer no fresh provocation should revive animosities which seemed composing themselves to slumber. The colonists tried to believe that England had learned wisdom; Englishmen were cautious about committing a second blunder. In such a time Franklin was the best man whom his countrymen could have had in England. His tranquil temperament, his warm regard for both sides, his wonderful capacity for living well with men who could by no means live well with each other, his social tact, and the respect which his abilities inspired, all combined to enable him now more than ever to fill admirably the position of colonial representative. The effect of such an influence is not to be seen in any single noteworthy occurrence, but is known by a thousand lesser indications, and it is unquestionable that no American representative even to this day has ever been held in Europe in such estimation as was accorded to Franklin at this time. He continued writing and instructing upon American topics, but to what has already been said concerning his services and opinions abroad, there is nothing of importance to be added occurring within two or three years after the repeal. While, however, he played the often thankless part of instructor to the English, he had the courage to assume the even less popular role of a moderator towards the colonists. He made it his task to soothe passion and to preach reason. He did not do this as a trimmer; never was one word of compromise uttered by him throughout all these alarming years. But he dreaded that weakness which is the inevitable reaction from excess; and he was supremely anxious to secure that trustworthy strength which is impossible without moderation. What he profoundly wished was that the "fatal period" of war and separation should be as much as possible "postponed, and that whenever this catastrophe shall happen it may appear to all mankind that the fault has not been ours." Yet he fell far short of the Christian principle of turning to the smiter the other cheek. He wished the colonists to keep a steady front face, and only besought them not to rush forward so foolishly fast as to topple over, of which ill-considered violence there was much danger. Of course the usual result of such efforts overtook him. He wrote somewhat sadly, in 1768: "Being born and bred in one of the countries, and having lived long and made many agreeable connections of friendship in the other, I wish all prosperity to both; but I have