Smith, as I was saying, had refrained from participating in our talk on that August night where the saltless sea complained upon the beach and the pines took counsel of the stars. Then, as the party broke up, Smith flung his cigar into Lake Michigan and closed the discussion by remarking with a despairing sigh-- “Well, either way, the people lose!” I Smith prides himself on his ability to get what he wants when he wants it--in everything but politics. In all else that pertains to his welfare Smith is informed, capable, and efficient. In his own affairs he tells the other fellow where to get off, and if told he can’t do a thing he proceeds at once to do it and to do it well. It is only in politics that his efforts are futile and he takes what is “handed him.” Under strong provocation he will, in the manner of a dog in the highway, run barking after some vehicle that awakens his ire; but finding himself unequal to the race, he meekly trots back to his own front yard. If the steam roller runs over him and the self-respect is all but mashed out of him, he picks himself up and retires to consider it yet again. He has learned nothing, except that by interposing himself before a machine of superior size and weight he is very likely to get hurt; and this he knew before. Smith and I are in the north woods thirty-five miles from a telegraph instrument, where it is possible to ponder great questions with a degree of detachment. Loafing with Smith is one of the most profitable things I do; he is the best of fellows, and, as our lives have run parallel from school-days with an unbroken intimacy, we are thoroughly familiar with each other’s manner of thought. What I am setting down here is really a condensed report of our talks. Just where Smith leaves off and I begin doesn’t matter, for we speak the same language of the Ancient Brotherhood of the Average Man. Smith is a Republican; I am a Democrat. We have “gone to the mat” in many campaigns, each valiantly defending his party and its heroes. But, chumming together in August, 1920, the punch had gone out of us. We talked of men and issues, but not with our old fervor. At first we were both shy of present-day matters, and disposed to “sidle up” to the immediate situation--to reach it by reluctant, tangential approaches, as though we were strangers, wary of wounding each other’s feelings. We mean to keep smiling about this whole business. We Americans seem destined to rock dizzily on the brink of many precipices without ever quite toppling over. We have lived through wars and rumors of wars, and have escaped pestilence and famine, and we are deeply grateful that the present campaign lays so light a tax upon the emotions. The republic isn’t going to perish, no matter who’s elected. One thing is certain, however, and that is that this time we--that is, Smith and I--are not going to be jostled or pushed.