"I cannot make them good," he said to Harlan. "But I can give them such a picture of their own iniquity that perhaps they'll realize it and make themselves good. You can't reform folks in this world on much of any basis except that!" It was late summer and they were in the garden of the brick house at Burnside. Harlan had been at his chief's side day after day, shielding him as much as possible from those who came to solicit, to threaten, to complain. In the opportunity given him to meet every man of importance in the State he had won respect, even regard. His personality removed him from the ranks of the radicals and relieved him from the imputation that attached to them. His sincerity was evident. He was frank to express his disappointment at the results of the legislation he had assisted in procuring. He listened attentively to the suggestions of others. He made it plain that he was not unalterably wedded to a law because he had been instrumental in adding it to the code. He made known to all his willingness to compromise on everything except honesty, and day by day he made men understand better the basis of the system advocated by his chief and himself. They had burnished the mirror of politics; they held its new and brighter surface up to the people that they might gaze on themselves. And in time the people came to realize what service had been done. And, as they realized it, the name of young Thornton went abroad in the State from mouth to mouth--men speaking of him as one who was entitled to the praise that attaches to honesty unsmirched by bigotry. His optimism softened the asperities which men found in the character of the Governor. He attracted to the grim old man the loyalty of the youth of the State, and at the same time won that loyalty for himself. He had come forward at a time when men were ready to accept new ideals, even if they were obliged to wade to them through such mire as now soiled the execution of the new laws. That proposed convention for the unprejudiced consideration of the liquor laws was taking form. The intemperate radicals were the only ones declaiming against "compromise with the devil." But the new conditions were revealing the real colors of those impractical zealots, and it was plain that their noisy minority would no longer be allowed to bluster down the truer and more equable spirit of "the best for all the people." The men and women of the State were taking time to analyze some of those high-sounding phrases with which so-called temperance had disguised vicious theories which left human nature out of the equation. The politicians of the old school remained aloof. They were pointing to "the wreck of the party."