The result of this dialogue was that Hogsden quit-claimed all his, "right, title and interest in a certain parcel of land, etc., etc., with a dwelling house and other improvements, etc., etc.," and the description of the property might have applied to a hundred others in the county. This transaction accomplished and recorded, they took the furniture that had been left in the house by the Mechlins and put it temporarily in the barn; Mrs. Hogsden taking only such articles as she wished to keep. She stole them brazenly, saying she had bought them.

It was further agreed that they would work the farm in partnership, dividing profits equally, and a contract in writing to this effect was signed by them.

Roper now being a property holder, besides being so influential with _the_ Judge, thought he could soar to higher altitudes. By the assistance of Gasbang and a few others, whom he said belonged to his _gang_, he managed to get himself nominated for Representative to Congress. Bursting with pride, puny Peter started on his way to glory, to _stump_ his district. He would begin at San Bernardino and carry the county by storm, with the force of his eloquence and personal magnetism, he said, with characteristic modesty.

He made speeches at San Pascual, and Poway, and San Bernardo, and Bear Valley, and Julian, but his greatest effort, the achievement that would crown his brow with laurels, that effort he reserved for Los Angeles.

Quite a big crowd was marshaled to hear him. He had paid a good deal of money in advertisements so as to collect an audience. He succeeded; a crowd was there ready to make up in quantity what it lacked in quality.

Roper came forward. His face was red as usual, but he seemed sober-he stood straight. He was as loquacious as ever, of course, and talked incessantly for quite a while, making the crowd laugh. After he had all his audience in a laughing mood with his coarse anecdotes and broad jokes, he thought he would capture their votes beyond a doubt if he then and there proved himself-by his own admissions-to be _low_, the lowest of the lowly-so very low, so very disreputable, that no one could be lower.

"You cannot doubt," said Peter, "that my sympathies as well as my interests, are with you, the working people, the poor who must work or starve. I have nothing in common with bloated bondholders or pampered monopolists who have enriched themselves with the earnings of the poor.

I don't know how I came to be a lawyer. I suppose it happened because I don't like to work. I would rather talk and let others work. [Laughter.]

I am a child of the people, and _for_ the people-the poor people I mean.

My mother was a cook, a poor cook-poor in pocket I mean. Her cookery may have been rich [laughter], but upon that point I couldn't enlighten you, for I have forgotten the flavor of her dishes. But she was a cook by profession, just as I am a lawyer by profession, and one is as good as the other. [Laughter.] As for my father, of him I know nothing to speak of-literally-[laughter], so the less said on that head, the sooner mended; for if the fact of my being here goes to prove _to you_ that I had a father, that is all the proof _I_ ever had myself."

Here Peter laughed, but he laughed alone. He thought that a burst of laughter and applause would follow this last shameless, revolting admission, but not a sound was heard. He had overstepped the bounds of decency so far, that even such a crowd as made his audience was silent as if unanimous disgust was beyond utterance. Roper was evidently disconcerted.

"We don't want to be represented in Washington by a fellow who exults in degradation and has no respect for the memory of his mother," said a loud voice, and the crowd began to disperse.

Soon Peter's native impudence came to his aid and he tried to recommence his discourse. "Look here," he cried, "where are you going? You ain't going to send my mother to Congress! Did you think I came to ask you to vote for her?" He went on in this coarse, bantering style which had taken so well at first, but in vain. Nobody wanted to hear him now. It seemed as if the ghost of the poor reviled cook had come, like that of Banquo, to frighten off the audience. In a few minutes only about half a dozen of his supporters had been left, and they remained to scold.

"Well," said one, looking back at the receding crowd, "that cake is all dough, Peter. I hope your mother would have made a better job of it."

"A delightful dough," said another; "and his goose is well cooked. I say, Peter, you cooked your goose brown, browner than your mother ever cooked hers, and I bet on it."

Peter answered with an oath.

"The worst of it is, that in cooking your goose, you burnt ours to a cinder. We haven't the ghost of a chance now, and the Republican candidate will have a walk-over to Congress," said a third supporter.

Alas for human delusions! This fiasco was the crowning glory of Roper's political campaign. Like the celebrated ambitious toad which cracked its sides by the force of its own inflation, Peter came to grief, ignominious grief; that is to say, it would have been ignominious to any one not thoroughly inoculated with disgrace as he, _according to his own version_, must have been from the day of his birth.

"Let me ask you a question, Roper," said a fourth friend. "Why did you bring out such a thing against your mother? It was your misfortune as long as you kept quiet about it, but now it is your shame. What was the good of telling against your own mother? Don't you know that people, even the humblest, must censure and despise you for it? Few, very few decent men, like to have anything to do with a man who reviles his dead mother, no matter if she was a poor cook. What pleasure can you find in proclaiming your shame?"

Roper laughed loud and derisively, saying:

"What will you bet that I'll have just as good and just as many friends in San Diego as I ever had before?"

"Do you mean to say that the people of San Diego _approve_ of language such as you used to-night? Approve your conduct?"

"Never mind about that, only will you take my bet?"

The henchman shrugged his shoulders and walked off, but if he had taken that bet, he would have lost.

When Colonel Hornblower received the news of Roper's fiasco, it occurred to him that he would take a trip to Europe. He had now made money enough out of the troubles and distress he and Roper brought upon others, to indulge in that luxury, the pleasure of saying he had been to Europe.

"My dear," said the Colonel to his wife, "I think now is the best time to take that trip to Europe we have had in our hearts for so long. Get ready; let us go."

"What has happened?" Mrs. Colonel Hornblower asked.

"Nothing, except that that partner of mine made a fiasco of his political campaign," and the Colonel related to his swarthy lady Roper's speech, and how it was received.

"How absurd! so unnecessary!" she exclaimed.

"Perfectly, but you see, for a man of _my_ dignity the thing is awkward.

What will the town say of _me_, *ME*?"

"The town will say nothing. As long as Roper has the friendship of Judge Lawlack he can have clients; and as long as he has clients the San Diego people will be indulgent to him, no matter how debased he says he is.

However, drop him, and let's go to Europe. I wish we could get letters to distinguished people abroad."

"What for? Our American ministers can present us to the best society, and besides, I am sure I am well known abroad. My name-the name of Colonel Hornblower-must be as familiar to Europeans as the names of other distinguished Americans. I am the most prominent man in San Diego.

All the world knows San Diego, all the world must know Colonel Hornblower."

"Still, I would like to get letters."

"Not at all necessary, I assure you. I'll tell our minister in England that Mrs. Colonel Hornblower wishes to be presented to Queen Victoria, and he'll present you. The Queen, no doubt, will wish to make our acquaintance."

"I would like to see other royal people. I would like to see the Pope, also."

"You shall see as many princes and princesses as you like. We Americans are princes, all of us. We are the equals of princes. As for the Pope, I would not take one step to make his acquaintance, unless he met me half way; but if you like to see him, we'll get an introduction easily.

Perhaps he might invite us to dinner. If he does, I hope it won't be on Friday, as fish don't agree with me."

"Does he ever invite people to dinner?"

"Distinguished people, of course."

The Hornblowers sailed for Europe before Roper returned from his stumping tour. He was detained at Los Angeles, where he had been beaten so badly in a bar-room brawl that he was obliged to keep in bed for several days. The Colonel then wisely slipped off for Europe, to hob-nob with royal people and take dinner with the Pope, perhaps.

Mrs. Hornblower conjectured rightly. Roper's disgrace was condoned by San Diego, because he was under the patronage of Judge Lawlack, and in San Diego everybody has a law suit.

But has the Judge no moral responsibility in this? _Has he the right to impose upon the community_ a man so self-debased and noxious? If the Judge were to withdraw his support Peter would collapse like a pricked gas-bag, to be swept off into the gutter. But the Judge is the genii, "_the Slave of the Ring_" and his power keeps the little gas-bag afloat, soaring as high as it is in the nature of little gas-bags to soar. The Judge keeping in his hand the check-string, kindly preventing him from going to destruction.

With characteristic coarseness, amounting to inhumanity, Peter Roper and Gasbang decided to throw down their masks, and reveal their fraud in "_jumping_" Mr. Mechlin's house. They came to this decision about ten days after Mr. Mechlin's death.

Gabriel had returned that same day from San Francisco, where he had accompanied the remains of his father-in-law, and deposited them in a vault to await until Mrs. Mechlin should be able to travel, when she, with all the family, would go East.

Mr. Lawrence Mechlin had also arrived. He started from New York on the day of his brother's death, two hours after receiving George's telegram conveying the terrible news. He reached San Francisco on the night before the steamer for San Diego sailed. Thus he and George came together.

The Deputy Sheriff presented himself to announce to Mrs. Mechlin that her furniture left at her country house had been taken out by order of Peter Roper, and put on the road about two miles from the house. As Mrs.

Mechlin was too ill to see any one, excepting the members of her family, the Sheriff made his statement to George, in the presence of his uncle and Gabriel, just arrived.

The proceedings seemed so atrocious that at first no one could understand the Sheriff.

"Do you mean to say that Peter Roper claims to own our house, and because he is the owner, has taken out the furniture and left it lying on the road?" asked George.

"Yes; that's what I was told to say," the Sheriff replied.

"But why? How is he the owner of our house?"