“Well, possibly I am,” replied the captain, “one thing is certain, however, I am not a politician, and I manage, on account of our banking interests, to keep my views pretty close at home. At the same time, Stanton, an old, grizzled veteran like myself, who fought for four years for the preservation of the Union, is liable to be rather set in his political opinions.” “While I do not agree with Major Hampton, politically,” observed Hugh, “yet otherwise I am very favorably impressed with him.” “That’s right,” said Captain Osborn, “so am I. He is an amiable gentleman, always dresses immaculately, as you saw him this morning, and is noted far and wide for his deeds of charity and his kindness among the poor. If any are sick within twenty miles of Meade, Major Hampton knows all about it. He visits them, and takes care that they are properly provided with medical aid. He is a warm supporter of the Ladies’ Aid Society, and contributes most liberally to the different churches, although he evinces no preference for any particular creed. Indeed, he is quite popular, and, between ourselves, Hugh, I should not be a bit surprised if he told the truth about snowing us under at the polls this fall. You see the ‘Barley Hullers’ is a secret organization, and, therefore, an unknown quantity, and I have no doubt that the major will control it at the coming election, to a man.” After banking hours that evening, Hugh called at the Patriot office. “Come in, Mr. Stanton,” cried the major, in most hospitable tones, as he ushered him into his own private “den.” Its moquette carpet, easy chairs, Turkish divan, beautiful pictures, and shelves well filled with books—all combined to make this little editorial “den” one of surprising elegance. The major had laid aside his Prince Albert coat for a smoking jacket. “These are Congressional Records and works on political economy,” said he, waving his hand toward the book shelves, as he noticed Hugh looking at them. He lounged negligently on the divan, and threw one arm back carelessly over his head. “You have quite an extensive library, Major,” observed Hugh, as he seated himself. “My library is at my home,” replied the major, “these are but a few statistical volumes which I find necessary in writing editorials for the Patriot. There is hardly a recent work of a political nature published that is not represented on these shelves. By the way, Stanton, there are some pretty fair cigars in that box—help yourself.” “Thank you,” said Hugh, as he lighted one. Presendy the major arose from the divan, and, after lighting a cigar, observed, “By the way, Mr. Stanton, are you fond of books?” “I certainly am,” replied Hugh, “they have been my best friends. Many hours of solitude have been beguiled by their pleasant and profitable companionship.” “Of course you read novels?” said the major, inquiringly. “I presume you regard it as a weakness,” replied Hugh, “but I must admit that a good novel has a great charm for me.”