Upon this particular afternoon he had the consciousness of having written a truly scorching editorial on William J. Bryan, as trenchant a thing--the Captain loved "trenchant"--as ever he wrote in his life, and when people began to speak to him about that week's issue of the _Star_, it pleased him greatly. It _was_ a great issue! Mr. Tole, the druggist, for example, who was secretly much gratified with the publication of his favourite poem, which he shrewdly considered excellent free advertising, remarked: "Had a great paper this week, Cap'n." The old Captain responded with dignity: "The _Star_, Mr. Tole, is looking up." How sweet was all this to the old Captain. For so long the current had been setting against him, there had been so little of the feeling of success and power, which he loved. We could distinguish the triumphant notes in the Captain's voice when he returned to the office. He sat down in the editorial chair with a special air of confidence. "Anthy," he said, clearing his throat. "Yes, Uncle Newt." "Anthy, I have hopes of Hempfield. Even in these days, when the people seem to be going off after false gods, the truth will prevail." He paused. "We are beginning to hear from our editorial on William J. Bryan." I recall yet Anthy's laugh--the amusement of it, and yet the deep sympathy. The Captain's eye fell upon Nort. He looked him over affectionately. "Nort, my boy," he said, "we're printing a newspaper." "We are, Cap'n," responded Nort heartily, but with a glint in his eyes. I saw the swift, grateful look that Anthy gave him. But the old Captain's mood suddenly changed. It is in the time of triumph that we sometimes find our sorrows most poignant. He began to shake his big shaggy head. "Ah, Nort," said he, "one thing only takes the heart out of me." "What's that, Cap'n?" asked Nort, though we all knew well enough. "If only the Colonel had not left us, I could put my very soul into the work. I could write wonderful editorials, Nort." If there was one subject besides flying machines and Democrats--and possibly woman suffrage--upon which the old Captain was irreconcilable, it was Colonel Roosevelt. He had never followed or loved any leader since Lincoln as he had followed and loved Roosevelt, and when the Colonel "went astray," as he expressed it, it affected him like some great personal sorrow. It went so deep with him that he had never yet been able to write an editorial upon the subject. "Why," he had said to Anthy, "I loved him like a brother!" "Never mind, Cap'n," said Nort. "Some of these days you'll tell us what you think about the Colonel." The Captain shook his head sadly. "No, Nort," said he, "it goes too deep, it goes too deep."