the Wilson forces, when interrogated by us, refused to answer. How
masterfully the Old Guard staged every act of the drama, and thus brought
about the nomination of the Princeton president. The Convention is at an
end. Wilson has been nominated by a narrow margin; the delegates, bitter
and resentful, are about to withdraw; the curtain is about to roll down on
the last scene. The chairman, Mr. John R. Hardin, the distinguished lawyer
of Essex, is about to announce the final vote, when the clerk of the
Convention, in a tone of voice that reached every part of the hall,
announces in a most dramatic fashion: "We have just received word that Mr.
Wilson, the candidate for the governorship, _and the next President of the
United States_, has received word of his nomination; has left Princeton,
and is now on his way to the Convention." Excellent stage work. The voice
of the secretary making this dramatic statement was the voice of Jacob,
but the deft hand behind this clever move was that of Colonel Harvey. This
announcement literally sets the Convention on fire. Bedlam breaks loose.
The only sullen and indifferent ones in the hall are those of us who met
defeat a few hours before. For us, at least, the mystery is about to be
solved. The Princeton professor has left the shades of the University to
enter the Elysian Fields of politics.

At the time the secretary's announcement was made I was in the rear of the
convention hall, trying to become reconciled to our defeat. I then wended
my weary way to the stage and stood close to the band, which was busy
entertaining the crowd until the arrival of Mr. Wilson. I wanted to obtain
what newspaper men call a "close-up" of this man of mystery.

What were my own feelings as I saw the candidate quietly walk to the
speakers' stand? I was now to see almost face to face for the first time
the man I had openly and bitterly denounced only a few hours before. What
reaction of regret or pleasure did I experience as I beheld the vigorous,