take an intense interest in art. He talked as though 
Cowperwood would, of course, become a great collector 
of something. 
"I tell you, Mr. Cowperwood," he said, another night, 
during one of their friendly chats, "there is nothing 
like this business to me. I love it. There's money in it, 
I confess that, but there is so much more to me. The 
study of it never wearies me. I can't get down to my place 
too early nor stay too late. I know that I know nothing 
at all comparatively, but I know also that I know a little, 
at that." 
" You're in the right business," observed Cowperwood, 
sympathetically. " Any one can see that." 
" It's beautiful," the latter observed, and looked lovingly 
at a splendid Grecian amphora unearthed somewhere in 
Asia Minor, which he had brought to Cowperwood's home 
in order to induce him to buy it. It was of a unique form, 
full-bodied, wide-legged, wide-based, with one of its de- 
licious handles, that had been firmly baked to its side, 
gone, and the decorations done in a dull lead-blue wash 
against the original light umber of the burnt clay. He had 
the history of the excavated house in which it had been 
discovered, and meditated as to the art of the life that had 
passed. His love for its beauty was so genuine that it 
moved Cowperwood. 
"You'll make a convert of me yet," he said. "Art 
will be the ruin of me. I'm inclined that way tempera- 
mentally as it is, I think, and between you and Ellsworth 
and Gordon Strake "—he mentioned another young man 
who was intensely interested in the best examples of 
painting—" you'll complete my downfall. Strake has a 
splendid idea. He wants me to begin right now—I'm 
using that word 'right' in the sense of 'properly,' " he 
commented—" and get what examples I can of just the 
few rare things in each school or period of art which 
would illustrate each properly and fully. He says the 
great pictures are going to increase in value, and what I