nature–
“Oh! Philip, come out here,” shouted young Eli, throwing the door wide
open.
And Ruth escaped away to her room, her heart singing again, and now as if
it would burst for joy, “Philip has come.”
That night Philip received a dispatch from Harry–“The trial begins
tomorrow.”
CHAPTER, LI
December 18–, found Washington Hawkins and Col. Sellers once more at the
capitol of the nation, standing guard over the University bill. The
former gentleman was despondent, the latter hopeful. Washington’s
distress of mind was chiefly on Laura’s account. The court would soon
sit to try her, case, he said, and consequently a great deal of ready
money would be needed in the engineering of it. The University bill was
sure to pass this, time, and that would make money plenty, but might not
the, help come too late? Congress had only just assembled, and delays
were to be feared.
“Well,” said the Colonel, “I don’t know but you are more or less right,
there. Now let’s figure up a little on, the preliminaries. I think
Congress always tries to do as near right as it can, according to its
lights. A man can’t ask any fairer, than that. The first preliminary it
always starts out on, is, to clean itself, so to speak. It will arraign
two or three dozen of its members, or maybe four or five dozen, for
taking bribes to vote for this and that and the other bill last winter.”
“It goes up into the dozens, does it?”
“Well, yes; in a free country likes ours, where any man can run for
Congress and anybody can vote for him, you can’t expect immortal purity
all the time–it ain’t in nature. Sixty or eighty or a hundred and fifty
people are bound to get in who are not angels in disguise, as young Hicks
the correspondent says; but still it is a very good average; very good
indeed. As long as it averages as well as that, I think we can feel very
well satisfied. Even in these days, when people growl so much and the
newspapers are so out of patience, there is still a very respectable
minority of honest men in Congress.”
“Why a respectable minority of honest men can’t do any good, Colonel.”
“Oh, yes it can, too”
“Why, how?”
“Oh, in many ways, many ways.”
“But what are the ways?”
“Well–I don’t know–it is a question that requires time; a body can’t
answer every question right off-hand. But it does do good. I am
satisfied of that.”
“All right, then; grant that it does good; go on with the preliminaries.”
“That is what I am coming to. First, as I said, they will try a lot of
members for taking money for votes. That will take four weeks.”
“Yes, that’s like last year; and it is a sheer waste of the time for
which the nation pays those men to work–that is what that is. And it
pinches when a body’s got a bill waiting.”
“A waste of time, to purify the fountain of public law? Well, I never
heard anybody express an idea like that before. But if it were, it would
still be the fault of the minority, for the majority don’t institute
these proceedings. There is where that minority becomes an obstruction–
but still one can’t say it is on the wrong side.–Well, after they have
finished the bribery cases, they will take up cases of members who have
bought their seats with money. That will take another four weeks.”
“Very good; go on. You have accounted for two-thirds of the session.”
“Next they will try each other for various smaller irregularities, like
the sale of appointments to West Point cadetships, and that sort of
thing–mere trifling pocket-money enterprises that might better, be
passed over in silence, perhaps, but then one of our Congresses can never
rest easy till it has thoroughly purified itself of all blemishes–and
that is a thing to be applauded.”
“How long does it take to disinfect itself of these minor impurities?”
“Well, about two weeks, generally.”
“So Congress always lies helpless in quarantine ten weeks of a session.
That’s encouraging. Colonel, poor Laura will never get any benefit from