THE CANDIDATE

I

THE NOMINEE


The huge convention-hall still rang with the thunders of applause, and
most of the delegates were on their feet shouting or waving their hats,
when Harley slipped from his desk and made his way quietly to the little
side-door leading from the stage. It was all over now but the noise;
after a long and desperate fight Grayson, a young lawyer, with little
more than a local reputation, had been nominated by his party for the
Presidency of the United States, and Harley, alert, eager, and fond of
dramatic effects, intended to be the first who should tell him the
surprising fact.

He paused a moment, with his hand on the door, and, looking out upon the
hall with its multitude of hot, excited faces, ran quickly over the
events of the last three or four days. Ten thousand people had sat
there, hour after hour, waiting for the result, and now the result had
come. The rival parties had entered their conventions, full of doubt and
apprehension. There was a singular dearth of great men; the old ones
were all dead or disabled, and the new ones had not appeared; the nation
was conscious, too, of a new feeling, and all were bound to recognize
it; the sense of dependency upon the Old World in certain matters which
applied to the mental state rather than anything material was almost
gone; the democracy had grown more democratic and the republic was more
republican; within the nation itself the West was taking a greater
prominence, and the East did not begrudge it. It was felt by everybody
in either party that it would be wiser to nominate a Western man, and,
the first having done so, the second, as all knew it must, now followed
the good example.

Moreover, both conventions had nominated "dark horses," but the second
nominee was the "darker" of the two. James Madison Grayson,
affectionately called Jimmy Grayson by his neighbors and admirers, was
quite young, without a gray hair in his head, tall, powerfully built,
smooth-shaven, and with honest eyes that gazed straight into yours. He
was known as a brave man, with fine oratorical powers and a winning
personality, but he had come to the convention merely as a delegate, and
without any thought of securing the nomination for himself. Not a single
vote had been instructed for him, but in that lay his opportunity. All
the conspicuous candidates were weak; good men in themselves, a solid
political objection could be raised against every one of them, and for a
while the voting was scattered and desultory. Then Grayson began to
attract attention; as a delegate he had spoken two or three times,
always briefly, but with grace and to the point, and the people were
glad both to see him and to hear him.

At last a far-sighted old man from the same state knew that the moment
had come when the convention, staggering about in the dark, could be
led easily along any road that seemed the path of light. He mentioned
the name of Grayson, putting it forward mildly as a suggestion that he
would withdraw at the first opposition, but his very mildness warded off
attack. Received rather lightly at first, the suggestion soon made a
strong appeal to the delegates. Nothing could be urged against Grayson;
he was quite young, it was true, but youth was needed to make a great
campaign--the odds were heavily in favor of the other party. Nor were
there lacking those who, expecting defeat, said that a young man could
bear it better than an old one, and a beating now might train him for a
victory four years hence.