It was argued that if the gold supply of the world was to be increased forty per cent per annum by the yield of the Morning mine, that would diminish relatively the production of silver, and the ancient parity of the metals might be restored “without danger to our financial interests, Mr. Speaker.” Thus reasoned the Honorable Senile Jumbo, who represented a New England district in the House. Jumbo was a banker at home, and because he was a banker was supposed to know something about finance, and was, in consequence, accorded a leading position on the House Committee on Banking and Currency. In fact, Jumbo only knew a good discount from a poor one. His definition of a banker would have been that of the Indiana editor, who described such a functionary as “a gentleman who takes the money of one man without interest, and loans it to another upon interest, and places both depositor and borrower under obligations.” By his small shrewdness Jumbo had gained a large fortune, and secured a seat in Congress; but of the laws which govern finance in its politico-economic relations he had no more knowledge than has a locomotive fireman about the law of dynamics, or a drygoods clerk about the culture of the silkworm. Yet the Honorable Senile Jumbo looked wise, and talked from the pit of his stomach, and respected the views of other rich men, and as a congressman he averaged with his colleagues. What strange distortion of brain is it that causes men conspicuously unfit for public life, to seek elevations which can only expose their intellectual poverty? One who does not comprehend the French tongue or know anything about science, would be laughed at for seeking to be elected a member of the French Academy of Sciences, yet senatorial togas and congressional seats are constantly sought by gentlemen whose previous pursuits have unfitted them to “shine in the halls of high debate,” and who, indeed, would be puzzled to put together, while on their feet, ten sentences of grammatical English. The great and growing wealth of Morning caused his society to be courted, and many a managing mamma was not unmindful of the fact that the “Arizona Gold King,” as he began to be called, was a bachelor. This man did not “wear his heart upon his sleeve,” and did not proclaim that his bachelorhood was confirmed, or had any special reason for its existence, but all plotting against him was in vain, for the Ellen lost to him was the constant companion of his thoughts, and to all movements and plans and purposes of life he applied instinctively the test, “What would she think of it?” CHAPTER XIII. “Hopeless grief is passionless.” It was the anniversary of one of the great victories achieved by Germany in the war of 1870, and Berlin had scarcely known a day so filled with noise, and glitter, and color, and esprit as this day had been.