Grant’s face was glowing with emotion. “I tell you, the day of the Kingdom is here–only it isn’t a kingdom, it’s Democracy–the great Democracy. It’s coming. I must go out and meet it. In the dark down in the mines I saw the Holy Ghost rise into the lives of a score of men. And now I see the Holy Ghost coming into a great class. And I must go–go with neither purse nor script to meet it, to live for it, and maybe to die for it.” He shook his head and cried vehemently:
“What a saphead I’d be if I fell to that bait!” He turned to the store and called to Miss Calvin. “Ave–is there a telegraph blank in the desk?”
Mr. Brotherton threw it, skidding, across the long counter. Grant fumbled in his vest for a pen, held the sheet firmly with his claw and wrote:
“You are kindness itself. But the place doesn’t interest me. Moreover, no man should go to the Senate representing all of a State, whose job it is to preach class consciousness to a part of the State. Get a bigger man. I thank you, however, with all my heart.”
Grant watched the preacher read the telegram. He read it twice, then he said: “Well–of course, that’s right. That’s right–I can see that. But I don’t know–don’t you think–I mean aren’t you kind of–well, I can’t just express it; but–”
“Well, don’t try, then,” returned Grant.
However, Doctor Nesbit, having something rather more 467than the ethics of the case at stake, was aided by his emotions in expressing himself. He made his views clear, and as Grant sat at his desk that afternoon, he read this in a telegram from the Doctor:
“Well, of all the damn fools!”
That was one view of the situation. There was this other. It may be found in one of those stated communications from perhaps Ruskin or Kingsley, which the Peach Blow Philosopher sometimes vouchsafed to the earth and it read:
“A great life may be lived by any one who is strong enough to fail for an ideal.”