“Jist about the time o’ day I smoke,” said Dan Spencer, as he threw an enormous quid of tobacco toward the cuspidor. Bill Kinneman expectorated a sounding pit-tew of tobacco juice at the receptacle just as Judge Lynn threw a burnt match in the same direction. “Waal, boys,” said Dan Spencer, when their cigars were going, “we’ve got toomultuous dooties to perform, an’ I guess we may as well move on. Jist drapped in fur a minit, yer know, Major.” “That’s right, boys,” replied Major Hampton, shaking hands most cordially with them as they started away, “come often and be in no hurry about going, is the standing invitation you each have.” They all shook hands with Hugh, and soon after crept out along the veranda and down the steps into the street. When they were gone, the major said: “They represent the masses. We cannot ignore them. Rightly guided, they are a power for good morals and good government; otherwise they are liable to menace the very foundations of our society.” Presently they heard some one singing. “Hello!” said the major, “Marie has returned. Well, Stanton, let us quit the library and our cigars. By the way, I am a student of men, and I am surprised that you are not a musician, for you certainly have a soul full of it. I want you to hear my daughter sing. I fancy,” he continued, hesitatingly, “that she has a fairly good voice.” They adjourned to an adjoining room. From a musician’s standpoint this room was a veritable dream. It was furnished with a “baby grand,” a complete musical library, containing some rare volumes; also with busts of Beethoven, Haydn, Bach, Handel, Mendelssohn, Chopin, Liszt, Schumann, Wagner, and other famous composers. On the walls were well-selected paintings, each in itself a study pertaining to music. “This, Mr. Stanton,” said the major, “is my daughter’s studio. You are the first stranger ever invited into this room.” “And who is her instructor, may I inquire?” “I direct my daughter’s education in all her studies,” modestly replied the major. “I am sure I feel highly honored,” returned Hugh. Marie glanced innocently at him over her shoulder. She was standing before a music-case, with one foot slightly advanced, and as she turned to look at Hugh her gracefully poised figure seemed to him a perfect model. “You are most welcome,” said the girl, smiling, “or we would not have asked you here.” Hugh was wondering why he had been invited into the sacredness of this musical retreat, from which others were excluded, but his reverie was interrupted by the major’s seating himself at the piano. He struck a few chords on the keys, and, after running through several modulations, he glided into Mendelssohn’s Symphony in C Minor. The major’s great body swayed back and forth as the music moved him with its entrancing power. Someway, the spirit of the melody stirred Hugh in a manner strangely new.