“My political opponent was to have been here and we were to briefly address the people this afternoon, but, so far, he has failed to put in an appearance. The toiling folk have come here to-day, even laying aside important work in some instances, to hear a ‘speaking,’ and unless they hear some sort of an address (they are not particular about the subject) it will be hard to bring them together again when we need them more. “I, as a representative of the committee, request you to lend us a helping hand. It is generally desired that you be the orator upon this occasion.” “What! address this gathering offhand and wholly unprepared? It would blight my prospects forever with them,” laughed Elliott. “On the other hand, it would give you an opportunity for a wider acquaintance and perhaps elect you to the first office to which you may yet aspire. Come! I will take no excuse,” persisted Holmes, while his companions seconded his insistence. After considerable pressing, Elliott was escorted to the platform, from which the musicians had moved. Without delay Holmes stepped to the front and in a loud, clear voice which hushed the crowd, said: “Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honor of introducing Mr. Elliott Harding, who will speak in place of Mr. Feland, that gentleman, for some reason or other, having failed to put in an appearance.” Amid a storm of cheers, Elliott arose, straightening his eloquent shoulders as he came forward. His blonde face was full of eager life when he began. “Ladies and gentlemen: The unexpected compliment paid me by your committee has given me the pleasure of addressing you to-day. I accept the invitation the more gladly inasmuch as it gives me the opportunity of telling you that my heart, linked to the South by birth, has retained its old love in spite of absence and distance, and brings me back to my own place with a fonder and, if possible, a greater and nobler pride in this Southland of yours and mine. And, it _is_ a land to be proud of. More magnificent a country God has never made. It has seen the fierce harrowing of war. Gazing through the past years my fancy sees the ruin that has confronted the home-coming soldier--ashes instead of homes, burnt stubble instead of fences, the slaves on whose labor he had long depended for the cultivation of his fertile fields, with their bonds cast off, meeting him as freemen. Without money, provisions or even the ordinary implements of husbandry, he at once began the toilsome task of repairing his fallen fortunes. Having converted his sword into a plowshare, his spear into a pruning hook, he lost no time, but manfully set to work to restore his lost estate, and bring a measure of comfort to the dear ones deprived of their former luxuries.