Sets and circles existed then, as now, in Co-opolitan society. Men and women always will choose their own companions and some common interest will always operate to form them into associations. If some of the potato diggers discover that potato digging is not all there is of life those will probably come to recognize in one another kindred spirits whose kinship is closer than that of the uninitiated and the circle is evolved. I was one of a circle or set and Miss Woodberry was a member of that circle, too. There were literary gatherings, card parties, socials and all sorts of meetings in winter, and lawn parties, dinners, dances and all sorts of pleasures in summer. It must be admitted that our social circle was generally regarded as somewhat select in a literary sense, because some of the brightest minds in Co-opolis were members. This did not exclude us from the pleasures which I have mentioned, but it gave our circle a somewhat sombre rather than gay reputation. We were just as popular, however, as any other set, and by no means assumed to be better than our neighbors. Miss Woodberry was not a member of the Industrial Army, and one of the great questions which we often discussed was whether she should become such. This question grew more than ever urgent when we decided that we were sufficiently attached to each other to become husband and wife. Attached to each other! That sounds and reads mechanical enough to describe the gluing together of two blocks of wood, and I have no doubt that because this is, in the main, an historical work and only incidentally biographical, it is all the warmth I am expected to express. I beg pardon! But this lady has been my wife now thirty years and a better wife no mortal man ever had. Attached to her! Why! I was so thoroughly and passionately devoted to her that I came very near incurring the censure of my department associates and being subjected to the operation of the Imperative Mandate on the charge of inattention to business, but escaped, because, as I suppose, “the whole world loves a lover,” and my attachment was not successfully concealed. Be that as it may, after we were engaged to be married, Miss Woodberry became curious to know what her fate would be; she had accepted me without much regard to consequences. Now, after the acceptance, when the consequences were close at hand, she became more solicitous to understand her position. She had only been a visitor in Co-opolis and had been a guest of the Prestons, whom I have already described as my near neighbors. During this visit she had been engaged in writing a novel, which she read as the chapters were completed to me. I was impressed with its merit and believed some of its passages breathed the spirit of genius. However, although I judged myself a dispassionate and unsparing critic, I would not trust my judgment upon the production of one who was prejudiced in her favor. I persuaded her to allow me to submit her manuscript to a