the call of his countrymen.

Mr. Giles Henderson was mild-mannered and blue-eyed, with a scanty beard
that was turning white; he was a deacon of the church, a member of the
school board, president of the Kingston National Bank; the main business
of his life had been in coal (which incidentally had had to be
transported over the Northeastern Railroads); and coal rates, for some
reason, were cheaper from Kingston than from many points out of the State
the distances of which were nearer. Mr. Henderson had been able to sell
his coal at a lower price than any other large dealer in the eastern part
of the State. Mr. Henderson was the holder of a large amount of stock in
the Northeastern, inherited from his father. Facts of no special
significance, and not printed in the weekly newspapers. Mr. Henderson
lived in a gloomy Gothic house on High Street, ate three very plain meals
a day, and drank iced water. He had been a good husband and a good
father, and had always voted the Republican ticket. He believed in the
gold standard, a high tariff, and eternal damnation. At last his
resistance was overcome, and he consented to allow his name to be used.

It was used, with a vengeance. Spontaneous praise of Mr. Giles Henderson
bubbled up all over the State, and editors who were for the Honourable
Adam B. Hunt suddenly developed a second choice. No man within the
borders of the commonwealth had so many good qualities as the new
candidate, and it must have been slightly annoying to one of that
gentleman's shrinking nature to read daily, on coming down to breakfast,
a list of virtues attributed to him as long as a rate schedule. How he
must have longed for the record of one wicked deed to make him human!

Who will pick a flaw in the character of the Honourable Giles Henderson?
Let that man now stand forth.