A NEW SPIRIT seems to have taken possession of Hickory Hill in
the fall of 1910, most clearly manifesting itself in the master of
the house. He confronted the critics who said that he was sink-
ing into a morbid and misanthropic dotage with a denial that
was disarming in its candor. If he were as bitter and vindictive
as they said, how was it that his writings enjoyed "such an enor-
mous circulation," or that there was "such a tremendous de-
mand" for him as a public speaker? He now spoke, he assured
them, "as easily as the birds sing--and there are no failures." As
usual, when his self-esteem was called in question, he thought of
Bryan. He was a better lawyer than Bryan, a better writer, a
legislator of more enduring works, he asserted. "I can now draw
larger crowds than Bryan can, and no man's gospel is more en-
thusiastically cheered. His sun is setting, and mine is rapidly ris-
ing." There had been a time when he bowed to discouragement.
"But of late a new spirit has taken possession of me," he wrote,
"and I have to obey it. Nothing tires me; nothing discourages;
nothing intimidates." He was convinced, he said, that the peo-
ple were "beginning to believe that I am one of the men whom
God Himself raises up and inspires." ¹ Thus everyone was reas-
sured--including himself.

The process begun with his break with the New York maga-

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