Jewel Weed

Mr. Early grew so excited by the strength of his new passion that he

sprang to his feet and walked up and down to luxuriate in the idea.

Proportionately great was his annoyance when a knock invaded his

self-communion, and his man's face appeared at the door to tell him that

Mr. Murdock would like to speak with him. While he was yet opening his

mouth to anathematize Mr. Murdock, that gentleman entered, familiar and

cheerful.

The man who came in was, in his way, a force almost as great and as

worthy of regard as Mr. Sebastian Early himself--in fact no less a

personage than the power behind the throne of that uncrowned king,

William Barry. Though he did not sit on Olympian heights and play with

the thunderbolts of jobs and contracts, as Barry did, yet he had an

occasional way of interfering in the game, just as in Greek legend Fate

loomed large behind the back of Zeus.

Mr. James Murdock was a business genius who dipped into politics, not

for office nor yet for glory, but only for gain. Originally a partner of

Mr. Early's, when, just as some one else invented a better hook-and-eye,

their business was sold out, Murdock let his many-sidedness run riot in

a dozen directions. While Mr. Early's abilities led him to "get all

there was in it" out of the public on its imaginative side, Murdock

worked out his fortune in more practical necessities. St. Etienne was a

western city, full of growth and therefore full of needs. There were

miles and miles of asphalt to be laid; there were wooden sidewalks

crying out to be replaced by stone; there were lighting and watering and

park-making; and it was astonishing in how many companies, doing these

things, Mr. Murdock had a share, and how frequently his companies

secured the contracts for doing them. When rival contractors attempted

these public works, there were apt to be strikes and complications which

seldom occurred when Murdock had the job. Then all went smoothly and

merrily. And this shows how friendship rules the world. For Murdock was

the friend of Barry; and Barry was the friend of the strike-ordering

walking-delegates. If these three elements, representing the city

fathers, the contractors and the laborers, were all satisfied with the

way the city's work was being done, who remained to cavil? Certainly not

the citizens. St. Etienne's wheels moved almost without friction.

But Murdock went further than this. His was a fine instinct for

organization. He used Barry like a fat pawn, moved down to the king row,

until the boss alderman was able to look abroad on his noble army of

small officeholders and contractors, who could be trusted, not only to

vote as directed (for to vote is a simple and ineffectual thing), but

also to bring up their hundreds and thousands of well-trained dogs to

vote, and, if need be, to vote again, and then to see that the votes

were properly counted.