Mr. Stephen Merrill was in the Throne Room that evening, and confidentially explained to the bewildered William Wetherell the exact situation in the Truro Franchise fight. Inasmuch as it has become our duty to describe this celebrated conflict,--in a popular and engaging manner, if possible,--we shall have to do so through Mr. Wetherell's eyes, and on his responsibility. The biographies of some of the gentlemen concerned have since been published, and for some unaccountable reason contain no mention of the Truro franchise. “All Gaul,” said Mr. Merrill--he was speaking to a literary man--“all Gaul is divided into five railroads. I am one, the Grand Gulf and Northern, the impecunious one. That is the reason I'm so nice to everybody, Mr. Wetherell. The other day a conductor on my road had a shock of paralysis when a man paid his fare. Then there's Batch, president of the 'Down East' road, as we call it. Batch and I are out of this fight,--we don't care whether Isaac D. Worthington gets his franchise or not, or I wouldn't be telling you this. The two railroads which don't want him to get it, because the Truro would eventually become a competitor with them, are the Central and the Northwestern. Alexander Duncan is president of the Central.” “Alexander Duncan!” exclaimed Wetherell. “He's the richest man in the state, isn't he?” “Yes,” said Mr. Merrill, “and he lives in a big square house right here in the capital. He ain't a bad fellow, Duncan. You'd like him. He loves books. I wish you could see his library.” “I'm afraid there's not much chance of that,” answered Wetherell. “Well, as I say, there's Duncan, of the Central, and the other is Lovejoy, of the Northwestern. Lovejoy's a bachelor and a skinflint. Those two, Duncan and Lovejoy, are using every means in their power to prevent Worthington from getting that franchise. Have I made myself clear?” “Do you think Mr. Worthington will get it?” asked Wetherell, who had in mind a certain nocturnal visit at his store. Mr. Merrill almost leaped out of his chair at the question. Then he mopped his face, and winked very deliberately at the storekeeper. Then Mr. Merrill laughed. “Well, well,” he said, “for a man who comes down here to stay with Jethro Bass to ask me that!” Whereupon Mr. Wetherell flushed, and began to perspire himself. “Didn't you hear Isaac D. Worthington's virtuous appeal to the people at Brampton?” said Mr. Merrill. “Yes,” replied Wetherell, getting redder.