THE WAR DRUM CALLS "Well, dad," said Barry next evening as they were sitting in the garden after tea, "I feel something like Mohammed's coffin, detached from earth but not yet ascended into heaven.

It's unpleasant to be out of a job.
I confess I shall always cherish a more intelligent sympathy henceforth for the great unemployed.

But cheer up, dad! You are taking this thing much too seriously.

The world is wide, and there is something waiting me that I can do better than any one else." But the father had little to say.

He felt bitterly the humiliation to which his son had been subjected.
Barry refused to see the humiliation.
"Why should I not resign if I decide it is my duty so to do?
And why, on the other hand, should not they have the right to terminate my engagement with them when they so desire?
That's democratic government." "But good Lord, Barry!" burst out his father, with quite an unusual display of feeling; "to think that a gentleman should hold his position at the whim of such whippersnappers as Hayes, Boggs et hoc genus omne.
And more than that, that I should have to accept as my minister a man who would be the choice of cattle like that." "After all, dad, we are ruled by majorities in this age and in this country.