He looked at me, still ignorant that I was laughing at him. “You think it injudicious to have it done by Mather?” he questioned, naming a fellow who did special work for the paper at times. “Not at all,” I replied, “provided you label the address ‘hash,’ so that people who have some discrimination won’t suppose you ignorant that it is twice-cooked meat you are giving them,” and, turning, I went on with my work as if the matter were ended. But the next day he told me, “I have concluded to have you compose that oration, Dr. Hartzmann;” and from that moment of petty victory I have not feared my employer. I wrote the address, and it so pleased Mr. Whitely that, not content with delivering it, he had it handsomely printed, and sent copies to all his friends. The resulting praise he received clearly whetted his appetite for authorship, for not long after he said to me, “Dr. Hartzmann, you told me, when you sold me this library, that you were writing a history of the Turks. How nearly completed is it?” “I hope to have it ready for press within three months.” “For some time,” he remarked, “I have meditated the writing of a book, and possibly yours will serve my purpose.” I was so taken by surprise that for a moment I merely gazed at him, since it seemed impossible that even egotism so overwhelming as his could be capable of such blindness; but he was in earnest, and I could only revert to Mr. Blodgett’s idea that a business man comes to think in time that anything he can buy is his. I smiled, and answered, “My book is not petroleum, Mr. Whitely.” “If it is what I desire, I will amply remunerate you,” he offered. “It is not for sale.” “I presume,” he replied, “that you know what disposition of your book suits you best. I have, however, noticed in you a strong desire to obtain money, and I feel sure that we could arrange terms that will bring you more than you would otherwise receive.” Even before Mr. Whitely finished speaking, I realized that I was not a free agent. I owed a debt, and till it was paid I had no right to think of my own ambition or feelings. I caught my breath in anguish at the thought, and then, fearing that my courage would fail me, I spoke hastily: “What do you offer me?” He smiled blandly as he predicted: “It is hardly a work that will have a large sale. The Turkish nation has not played an important part in history.” “Only conquered the key of the Old World, caused the Crusades, forced the discovery of America and of the Cape passage, compelled Europe to develop its own civilization instead of adopting that of the East, and furnished a question to modern statesmen that they have yet found no Œdipus to answer,” I retorted. “Your special pleading does tend to magnify their position,” he assented. “I shall be happy to look the work over, leaving the terms to be decided later.”