silence.”  The Forum and the Atlantic Monthly, when Page was editor, showed many traces of his interest in Wilson, who was one of his most frequent contributors.  When Wilson became President of Princeton, he occasionally called upon his old Atlantic friend for advice.  He writes to Page on various matters—­to ask for suggestions about filling a professorship or a lectureship; and there are also references to the difficulties Wilson is having with the Princeton trustees.

Page’s letters also portray the new hopes with which Wilson inspired him.  One of his best loved correspondents was Henry Wallace, editor of Wallace’s Farmer, a homely and genial Rooseveltian.  Page was one of those who immensely admired Roosevelt’s career; but he regarded him as a man who had finished his work, at least in domestic affairs, and whose great claim upon posterity would be as the stimulator of the American conscience.  “I see you are coming around to Wilson,” Page writes, “and in pretty rapid fashion.  I assure you that that is the solution of the problem.  I have known him since we were boys, and I have been studying him lately with a great deal of care.  I haven’t any doubt but that is the way out.  The old labels ‘Democrat’ and ‘Republican’ have ceased to have any meaning, not only in my mind and in yours, but I think in the minds of nearly all the people.  Don’t you feel that way?”

The campaign of 1912 was approaching its end when this letter was written; and no proceeding in American politics had so aroused Page’s energies.  He had himself played a part in Wilson’s nomination.  He was one of the first to urge the Princeton President to seize the great opportunity that was rising before him.  These suggestions were coming from many sources in the summer of 1910; Mr. Wilson was about to retire from the Presidency of Princeton; the movement had started to make him Governor of New Jersey, and it was well understood that this was merely intended as the first step to the White House.  But Mr. Wilson was himself undecided; to escape the excitement of the moment he had retired to a country house at Lyme, Connecticut.  In this place, in response to a letter, Page now sought him out.  His visit was a plea that Mr. Wilson should accept his proffered fate; the Governorship of New Jersey, then the Presidency, and the opportunity to promote the causes in which both men believed.

“But do you think I can do it, Page?” asked the hesitating Wilson.

“I am sure you can”:  and then Page again, with his customary gusto, launched into his persuasive argument.  His host at one moment would assent; at another present the difficulties; it was apparent that he was having trouble in reaching a decision.  To what extent Page’s conversation converted him the record does not disclose; it is apparent, however, that when, in the next two years, difficulties came, his mind seemed naturally to turn in Page’s direction.  Especially noticeable is it that he