aunts； the visitors entered stealthily； after the manner of burglars；
some of these were heavy…jowled； and all had an air of mystery that
raised my curiosity and excitement to the highest pitch。 I caught hold
of Ella as she came up the stairs； but she tore herself free； and
announced to my father that Mr。 Josiah Blackwood and other gentlemen had
asked to see him。 My father seemed puzzled as he went downstairs。。。。 A
long interval elapsed； during which I did not make even a pretence of
looking at my arithmetic。 At times the low hum of voices rose to what
was almost an uproar； and on occasions I distinguished a marked Irish
brogue。
〃I wonder what they want？〃 said my mother； nervously。
At last we heard the front door shut behind them； and my father came
upstairs； his usually serene face wearing a disturbed expression。
〃Who in the world was it； Mr。 Paret？〃 asked my mother。
My father sat down in the arm…chair。 He was clearly making an effort for
self…control。
〃Blackwood and Ogilvy and Watling and some city politicians；〃 he
exclaimed。
〃Politicians！〃 she repeated。 〃What did they want？ That is； if it's
anything you can tell me；〃 she added apologetically。
〃They wished me to be the Republican candidate for the mayor of this
city。〃
This tremendous news took me off my feet。 My father mayor！
〃Of course you didn't consider it； Mr。 Paret；〃 my mother was saying。
〃Consider it！〃 he echoed reprovingly。 〃I can't imagine what Ogilvy and
Watling and Josiah Blackwood were thinking of！ They are out of their
heads。 I as much as told them so。〃
This was more than I could bear； for I had already pictured myself
telling the news to envious schoolmates。
〃Oh； father； why didn't you take it？〃 I cried。
By this time； when he turned to me； he had regained his usual expression。
〃You don't know what you're talking about； Hugh；〃 he said。 〃Accept a
political office！ That sort of thing is left to politicians。〃
The tone in which he spoke warned me that a continuation of the
conversation would be unwise； and my mother also understood that the
discussion was closed。 He went back to his desk； and began writing again
as though nothing had happened。
As for me； I was left in a palpitating state of excitement which my
father's self…control or sang…froid only served to irritate and enhance；
and my head was fairly spinning as； covertly； I watched his pen steadily
covering the paper。
How could hehow could any man of flesh and blood sit down calmly after
having been offered the highest honour in the gift of his community！ And
he had spurned it as if Mr。 Blackwood and the others had gratuitously
insulted him！ And how was it； if my father so revered the Republican
Party that he would not suffer it to be mentioned slightingly in his
presence； that he had refused contemptuously to be its mayor？。。。
The next day at school； however； I managed to let it be known that the
offer had been made and declined。 After all； this seemed to make my
father a bigger man than if he had accepted it。 Naturally I was asked
why he had declined it。
〃He wouldn't take it；〃 I replied scornfully。 〃Office…holding should be
left to politicians。〃
Ralph Hambleton； with his precocious and cynical knowledge of the world；
minimized my triumph by declaring that he would rather be his
grandfather； Nathaniel Durrett； than the mayor of the biggest city in the
country。 Politicians； he said； were bloodsuckers and thieves； and the
only reason for holding office was that it enabled one to steal the
taxpayers' money。。。。
As I have intimated； my vision of a future literary career waxed and
waned； but a belief that I was going to be Somebody rarely deserted me。
If not a literary lion； what was that Somebody to be？ Such an
environment as mine was woefully lacking in heroic figures to satisfy the
romantic soul。 In view of the experience I have just related； it is not
surprising that the notion of becoming a statesman did not appeal to me；
nor is it to be wondered at； despite the somewhat exaggerated respect and
awe in which Ralph's grandfather was held by my father and other
influential persons； that I failed to be stirred by the elements of
greatness in the grim personality of our first citizen； the iron…master。
For he possessed such elements。 He lived alone in Ingrain Street in an
uncompromising mansion I always associated with the Sabbath； not only
because I used to be taken there on decorous Sunday visits by my father；
but because it was the very quintessence of Presbyterianism。 The moment
I entered its 〃portals〃as Mr。 Hawthorne appropriately would have called
themmy spirit was overwhelmed and suffocated by its formality and
orderliness。 Within its stern walls Nathaniel Durrett had made a model
universe of his own； such as the Deity of the Westminster Confession had
no doubt meant his greater one to be if man had not rebelled and foiled
him。。。。 It was a world from which I was determined to escape at any
cost。
My father and I were always ushered into the gloomy library； with its
high ceiling； with its long windows that reached almost to the rococo
cornice； with its cold marble mantelpiece that reminded me of a
tombstone； with its interminable book shelves filled with yellow
bindings。 On the centre table； in addition to a ponderous Bible； was one
of those old…fashioned carafes of red glass tipped with blue surmounted
by a tumbler of blue tipped with red。 Behind this table Mr。 Durrett sat
reading a volume of sermons； a really handsome old man in his black tie
and pleated shirt； tall and spare； straight as a ramrod； with a finely
moulded head and straight nose and sinewy hands the colour of mulberry
stain。 He called my father by his first name； an immense compliment；
considering how few dared to do so。
〃Well； Matthew；〃 the old man would remark； after they had discussed Dr。
Pound's latest flight on the nature of the Trinity or the depravity of
man； or horticulture； or the Republican Party； 〃do you have any better
news of Hugh at school？〃
〃I regret to say； Mr。 Durrett；〃 my father would reply； 〃that he does not
yet seem to be aroused to a sense of his opportunities。〃
Whereupon Mr。 Durrett would gimble me with a blue eye that lurked beneath
grizzled brows； quite as painful a proceeding as if he used an iron tool。
I almost pity myself when I think of what a forlorn stranger I was in
their company。 They two； indeed； were of one kind； and I of another sort
who could never understand them；nor they me。 To what depths of despair
they reduced me they never knew； and yet they were doing it all for my
good！ They only managed to convince me that my love of folly was
ineradicable； and that I was on my way head first for perdition。 I
always looked； during these excruciating and personal moments； at the
coloured glass bottle。
〃It grieves me to hear it； Hugh；〃 Mr。 Durrett invariably declared。
〃You'll never come to any good without study。 Now when I was your
age。。。〃
I knew his history by heart； a common one in this country； although he
made an honourable name instead of a dishonourable one。 And when I
contrast him with those of his successors whom I was to know later。。。！
But I shall not anticipate。 American genius had not then evolved the
false entry method of overcapitalization。 A thrilling history； Mr。
Durrett's； could I but have entered into it。 I did not reflect then that
this stern old man must have throbbed once； nay； fire and energy still
remained in his bowels； else he could not have continued to dominate a
city。 Nor did it occur to me that the great steel…works that lighted the
southern sky were the result of a passion； of dreams similar to those
possessing me； but which I could not express。 He had founded a family
whose position was virtually hereditary； gained riches which for those
days were great； compelled men to speak his name with a certain awe。 But
of what use were such riches as his when his religion and morality
compelled him to banish from him all the joys in the power of riches to
bring？
No； I didn't want to be an iron…master。 But it may have been about this
time that I began to be impressed with the power of wealth； the adulation
and reverence it commanded； the importance in which it clothed all who
shared in it。。。。
The private school I attended in the company of other boys with whom I
was brought up was called Densmore Academy； a large； square building of a
then hideous modernity； built of smooth； orange…red bricks with threads
of black mortar between them。 One reads of happy school days； yet I fail
to recall any really happy hours spent there； even in the yard； which was
covered with black cinders that cut you when you fell。 I think of it as
a penitentiary； and the memory of the barred lower windows gives
substance to this impression。
I suppose I learned something during the seven years of my incarceration。
All of value； had its teachers known anything of youthful psychology； of
natural bent； could have been put into me in three。 At least four
criminally wasted years； to say nothing of the benumbing and desiccating
effect of that old system of education！ Chalk and chalk…dust！ The
Mediterran