Herman Schuyler was the most liberal employer in the town of Papyrus. It was not unusual for him to pay a higher wage to a workman than had been agreed upon, if the workman earned it. But he was accustomed to giving orders, and having them obeyed promptly. He wanted a service from Wycliff, and he called for it very much as he would have ordered a roast or steak at the butcher’s. “I want to run for Assessor. I want you to write a letter to the _Star_ in my favor. I want you to write it, because there is nobody, not even Congressman Baldwin himself, who can put words together as you can. Understand, now, I am not asking you to vote for me. A man has got pretty low down, in my own opinion, when he will ask another man to vote for him. I want my name placed before the voters in the columns of the _Star_, and I ask you to do it, very much as I would ask a lawyer to make out a mortgage or a deed for me.” The speaker was a heavy, square-built man, clad to-night, as he usually was at this season, in a bearskin coat, which he did not remove. When he made a point, in speaking, the square jaws closed like a trap, and he brought a muscular fist down heavily upon the arm of the rocker in which he was seated. “Well, Mr. Schuyler,” Wycliff replied at length, “I will do my best for you, and it will be a congenial task. Everything that I know of you is in your favor; but I fear that your very honesty will be used against you. Our leading citizens do not want a thoroughly honest man in the office of Assessor. They want the property of the town assessed at only a fraction of its true value, so that the town will not have to bear its just share of state and county taxes. It is strange that men who are leaders in the church and in society, will argue the longest for a dishonest valuation.” “If I am elected Assessor,” exclaimed Schuyler, and he brought his fist down upon the rocker-arm so that everything about him shook, “I shall be true to my oath. It is strange, as you say, that Christian men will defend the violation of an oath. Every assessor swears that he will ‘neither overvalue nor undervalue’ property for taxation.” Then Schuyler presented to Wycliff certain facts which he wished embodied in the letter:--How he came to Papyrus forty years before, with only a dollar in his pocket, and had built up his present fine property by industry and fair dealing. “I tell you what,” he said, as his hearer excused himself to perform some service for the sick ones, “You write the letter to-morrow, when you have leisure. I’ll drive over in the evening and get it. By the way, how’s your coal-bin?” “Pretty low,” replied Wycliff. “Very well,” said Schuyler, “I’ll send a ton to-morrow and a receipt by the driver. Good night.” And out into the night went this last candidate for political honors. “A pretty good day financially, my dears,” said Wycliff, as he kissed his wife and son, and made everything secure for the night. CHAPTER III.