and anarchists. Jeff's life was held up to public scorn as
dissolute and licentious. He had been expelled from college and
consorted only with companions of the lowest sort. A free thinker
and an atheist, he wanted to tear down the pillars which upheld
society. Unless Verden and the state repudiated him and his gang
of trouble breeders the poison of their opinions would infect the
healthy fabric of the community.

There was about Jeff a humility, a sort of careless generosity,
that could take with a laugh a hit at himself. But in the days
that followed he was often made to wince when good men drew away
from him as from a moral pervert. Twice he was hissed from the
stage when he attempted to talk, or would have been, if he had not
quietly waited until the indignant protesters were exhausted. It
amused him to see that his old college acquaintance "Sissie"
Thomas and Billy Gray, the ballot box stuffer of the Second Ward,
were among the most vehement of those who thus scorned him. So do
the extremes of virtue and vice find common ground when the
blasphemer raises his voice against intrenched capital.

The personal calumny of the enemy showed how hard hit the big
bosses were, how beneath their feet they felt the ground of public
opinion shift. It had been only a year since Big Tim O'Brien, boss
of the city by permission of the public utility corporations, had
read Jeff's first editorial against ballot box stuffing. In it the
editor of the _World_ had pledged that paper never to give up the
fight for the people until such crookedness was stamped out. Big
Tim had laughed until his paunch shook at the confidence of this
young upstart and in impudent defiance had sent him a check for
fifty dollars for the Honest Election League.