The Governor smiled, and with the least perceptible sneer he asked:

"And how does Mr. Herbert Spencer differ with my ideas of business principles?"

"He differs in this, that he thinks that commercial honor, business morality, should be based on strict rectitude, on the purest equity.

That so soon as any one in the pursuit of riches knowingly and wilfully will injure any one else, that he then violates the principle upon which commerce should rest," Mr. Holman replied.

"But that is absurd. Would he stop competition?"

"Not at all. Competition generally has the effect of securing the preference to whomsoever deserves it. No, what Mr. Spencer maintains is that monopolies should not exist when they have become so powerful that they defy the law, and use their power to the injury of others. The fundamental principle of morality is then subverted," said Mr. Holman.

"Fundamental morality forbids us to injure any one because we would be benefited by that injury," said Don Mariano.

"The same old axiom of the French revolution, that 'the rights of one man end where those of another begin.' Danton and Marat sang that to the music of the guillotine," said the Governor, a little bit contemptuously.

"That is so; but you see, Governor, the devil might sing psalms, and it won't hurt the psalms," Don Mariano replied.

"We have made you waste your time talking to us, Governor," said Mr.

Holman; "can we not hope that you will reconsider this matter, and examine more carefully the advantages of making San Diego the direct outlet for all that country that needs a railroad so much? Believe me, sir, such road will bring you more millions than the Central and Southern Pacific Railroads. If you do not build it, and prevent Col.

Scott from building it, sooner or later some one else will, for it stands to reason that such a magnificent enterprise will not be left neglected after other less advantageous routes are tried. Then you will have the regret of having spurned this golden chance."

"And besides the chance of making millions for yourselves. Think of the blessings you will bring to so many hearts who are now sadly discouraged, and will be desolate if our hopes are frustrated," Mr.

Mechlin said.

"Corporations have no souls, gentlemen, and I am no Carlylean hero-philanthropist. I am only a most humble '_public carrier_.' I do not aspire to anything more than taking care of my business," Mr.

Stanford answered.

"But, Governor, you cannot be indifferent to the distress your action will cause?" insisted Mr. Mechlin, with sad earnestness.

"As for that," replied Mr. Stanford, smiling; "if I don't cause distress some one else will. Distress there must be, bound to be in this world, in spite of all that your philanthropists might do or say to prevent it."

"But do you not think that if all and every one of those who have it in their power to be beneficent were not so indifferent to human suffering, but were to be benevolent, that then the combined result would be great alleviation and diminution of human distress?"

"No; because those who have power to do good are very few, and the improvident, the vicious, the lazy are in myriads; and they and their folly and vices and improvidence will, forever, more than counterbalance the good that the beneficent might effect," Mr. Stanford asserted.

Mr. Mechlin arose and turned towards the door. Mr. Holman followed his example. Senor Alamar looked sadly at the floor, saying:

"Well, Governor, I am sorry we have failed in bringing you to our way of thinking. Time will show who is mistaken."

"Oh, yes! Time will show. We can't cast any astrological horoscope at the birth of a railroad. All we can do is to take care that it thrives."

"To clear away competition."

"Exactly. The country is not settled enough yet to divide profits.

Besides, we think that Eastern people ought not to build any roads to the Pacific Coast, when we of California are ready to do it. Let Tom Scott keep away. We don't build roads in Pennsylvania."

"But are you sure you will always be able to prevent a competing road?

Would it not be cheaper for yourself to build than to fight Tom Scott?"

"No indeed. For the present, it is cheaper to fight. It don't cost so much money to make friends," said he, smiling.

"You seem very confident of success."

"Money commands success, you know."

"Yes, money is everything! And it weighs not a feather, all the ruin and squalor and death you will bring to a people who never harmed you! Not a feather's weight, as against the accumulation of money for yourselves,"

said Mr. Mechlin, forgetting his usual consideration for others'

feelings.

"If I did not cause this misery you apprehend, some one would. Be sure of it, for there will always be misery in the world, no matter who causes it," the Governor replied, with an air of being satisfied with his philosophy, inasmuch as he was to be exempt from human suffering, no matter who went under.

Mr. Mechlin, still lingering sadly, and veiling his great disapprobation of Mr. Stanford's practical philosophy, said:

"Mr. Herbert Spencer also, in elucidating his principles, reminds us of the fact that 'Misery is the highway to _death_, while happiness is added life, and the giver of life.' Think of this, Governor. Surely, you do not wish to make us so miserable that you cause _death_! Yes, death from poverty and despair. Poverty, overwork and discouragement are the causes of sickness and death oftener than it is supposed, and this Mr.

Spencer also maintains unswervingly."

"You have a very vivid imagination; you color up things too dark," said the Governor, also rising.

"I hope you will not be sorry to have thought so. I hope you will not regret that you closed your heart and your mind against us, against justice, humanity and reason." So saying, Mr. Mechlin slowly walked off; then at the door he turned, and lifting his finger, said to Don Mariano: "I feel a prophetic warning that neither you nor I will ever see light in this world. These men-this deadly, soulless corporation, which, like a black cloud, has shut out the light from San Diego's horizon-will evermore cast the shadow that will be our funeral pall. But let them look to it, they might yet carry their heartless rapacity beyond limit.

The mighty monopoly, that has no soul to feel responsibility, no heart for human pity, no face for manly blush-that soulless, heartless, shameless monster-might yet fall of its own weight." So saying, Mr.

Mechlin walked away, as if he intended this prophecy to be a parting salutation to the men who had blighted his life and made him utterly hopeless.

CHAPTER XXXIV.-_The Sins of Our Legislators!_

"'_Assey de Bonaparte!_' cried France, in 1814. Men found that his absorbing egotism was deadly to all other men," says Mr. Emerson. "It was not Bonaparte's fault. He did all that in him lay to live and thrive without moral principle. It was the nature of things, the eternal law of the man and the world, which balked and ruined him; and the result in a million experiments would be the same. Every experiment by multitudes or by individuals, that has a sensual or selfish aim, will fail. The Pacific Fourier will be as inefficient as the pernicious Napoleon. As long as our civilization is essentially one of property, of exclusiveness, it will be mocked by delusions. Our riches will leave us sick; there will be bitterness in our laughter, and our wine will burn our mouth. Only that good profits which serves all men."

Yes, only that good profits which does not represent the misery of others; only that wine should be sweet which is not drunk when the tears of those we have rendered desolate are silently running over pale cheeks from eyes that have kept the vigil of want, mourning for the beloved to whom poverty brought death!

In heavenly-inspired words Emerson and Carlyle and Herbert Spencer have repeated those burning aphorisms, but our California "_Fire Pillars_"

differ with them-differ widely and differ proudly.

Mr. Stanford says that if _he_ did not cause misery some one else would, for "_misery there must always be in this world_!" Sound philosophy, truly! Why should he recoil from adding to the sum total of human misery when so many others do the same!

Mr. Huntington was about the same time writing from Washington that he _would_ "_see the grass grow over Tom Scott_" before he stopped his work of _convincing_ Congressmen. And he kept his word.

He carried _conviction_ to Washington, distress to the South and ruin to San Diego.

Mr. Crocker was answering, "_Anything to beat Tom Scott!_" The thing was to prevent the construction of San Diego's railroad, no matter to whom ruin came thereby. "No matter how many were sacrificed."

Nothing was more hopeless, therefore, than to suppose that any of those men would swerve one iota from their course of greedy acquisition, out of respect for equity or humanity.

Not a word was spoken until the three saddened friends reached Don Mariano's parlors at the hotel. They had walked silently out of the railroad building, silently taken the street car and silently walked out of it, as it happened to stop in front of their hotel.

"Well, we have failed sadly, but I am glad to have had the chance of studying that piece of humanity, or rather I should say inhumanity," Mr.

Mechlin exclaimed.