possessed some mathematical method which enabled him to forecast stocks many months and years in advance. I have gone over his manipulations and the stocks he traded in, and found that they conform closely to the law of harmonic analysis. He certainly knew something about time and season because he bought at the right time and sold at the right time. He paid a great price for his success, because he neglected his health, sacrificed everything to make his railroads a success and died too young. Such men are the backbone of our country's prosperity. Constructive geniuses of this kind are few and far between and we need more of them. Man's greatest enemy in speculation is 'hope.' He refuses to face facts, and facts are stubborn things. Hope spurs us on. It may be an anchor to the soul, but a very slim anchor in speculation, when facts are against us." Mr. Watson told Robert that his friend Walter had related to him all about his love affair and the disappearance of Marie. He said, "My boy, the great love you have for her is now furnishing the hope which will carry you to success. When that hope is gone, you will have to find a new one or you cannot go on." Robert told him that Marie had said that anticipation was greater than realization. "Robert," he said, "I want to tell you the story of my love affair. I have made and lost many fortunes in Wall Street, and when things have gone wrong and I have reached the depths of despondency, have seen my last dollar fade away, been deserted by friends of my prosperous days, then when there seemed nothing else to live for, nothing to make me fight on, there would come a hope, the angel of memory would steal over me and I would again hope that some day, somewhere, I would find my Katie." Here the old man's eyes grew dim with tears. He drew an old wallet from his pocket, took out a package, slowly unwrapped it. In there was a picture in a little gold frame. The aged hands trembled, his voice grew weak as he handed the picture to Robert with some faded flowers which he had pressed out and kept and said: "These flowers were picked by her own little hands over forty years ago." He then broke down and wept bitterly. Robert was deeply moved by the old man's great devotion to his long-lost sweetheart and begged him to tell more of the story.