Wycliff sat alone some time after his visitor had gone, looking into the fire, and thinking of many things. One of his long-cherished idols had been gradually dethroned. He had been, before coming to Papyrus, a great admirer of Congressman Baldwin. It was hard for him to give up his political idol, but he had seen the workingmen of Papyrus defrauded of their votes, and Congressman Baldwin a silent and satisfied witness of the robbery. One word from Congressman Baldwin, who was the political boss of the State, would have blotted from the statute books of Massachusetts the damnable “Five-Thousand-Dollar Law;” but Congressman Baldwin never spoke the word. Instead, his puppets at Boston voted to retain the law, which shielded railroad and street railway corporations from just punishment for deaths caused by them, and robbed families of their victims. Wycliff himself, by David Baldwin’s orders, had been blacklisted in all the Baldwin industries. The spotless Deacon Surface had notified every concern controlled by the Baldwins not to give employment to John Wycliff. This was more than his idolatry would bear. A man will forgive many things, but ought he to forgive the man who tries to take the bread away from his family? John Wycliff looked up at the face of Congressman Baldwin, on the wall opposite. He arose and took down the portrait. “What on earth are you doing, John?” asked his wife, summoned from another room by the noise of breaking glass and splintering wood. Bare feet came pattering down the stairs from the chamber above. “Say, pop; what’s up?” “Robbie, what did the Israelites do every time they got a chance? What did the Lord have to punish them for, very often?” “Worshipping idols.” “And once in a while, after being punished enough, what would they do?” “Burn up their idols.” “That’s right. That’s what I’ve been doing. Now I’ll kiss you both if you’ll clear out, and leave me alone, to write.” He then wrote a letter to an old friend and schoolmate, now an editor in Charleston, South Carolina. From that letter the following is extract taken:-- “You have frequently requested me to write something for your paper, a request which I have been very slow to comply with. I do not suppose you wish me to write your editorials, and the enclosed article is only intended as a hint of the way in which I would use the facts referred to.” Within a week the whole country echoed with the first public attack ever made upon Congressman Baldwin. The attack was made by a Charleston, South Carolina, newspaper, and every political paper in the country was immediately drawn into the combat, either as an assailant or defender of the Congressman. Congressman Baldwin in a public speech, had commented bitterly upon the cheapness of human life in the South; and now every Southern newspaper, and many of their Northern sympathizers, were revenged upon him. The following paragraphs from the Charleston paper formed the key-note of their attack:--