272 DAY ALLEN WILLEY 



sandth part of its weight. Its ponderous unwieldiness im- 

 presses you with a sort of awe as you think that here is the 

 monster gun of some battleship or a part of its protection. 

 You have a respect for it — you realize the strength, the future 

 power it typifies. But does the man beside it feel the same? 

 Far from it. There is no awe or respect in the deep lined 

 features, in the resolute gaze, which the greatest tragedian 

 might envy. He is its creator, its master. He can work it 

 to his will — thanks to this trust of power. 



