by far the ablest and profoundest lawyer
among our presidents. None of them equalled him as an orator.
His State papers were of a very high order. When history sums
up the men who have held the great place of president of the
United States, General Harrison will be among the foremost.

He retired from office, like many of our presidents, a comparatively
poor man. After retirement he entered at once upon the practice
of his profession of the law and almost immediately became
recognized as one of the leaders of the American bar.

XII. JAMES G. BLAINE

I have spoken in every national canvass, beginning with 1856.
It has been an interesting experience to be on the same platform
as an associate speaker with nearly every man in the country who
had a national reputation. Most of them had but one speech,
which was very long, elaborately prepared, and so divided into
sections, each complete in itself, that the orator was equipped
for an address of any length, from fifteen minutes to four hours,
by selection or consolidation of these sections. Few of them
would trust themselves to extemporaneous speaking. The most
versatile and capable of those who could was James G. Blaine.
He was always ready, courted interruptions, and was brilliantly
effective. In a few sentences he had captured his audience and
held them enthralled. No public man in our country, except,
perhaps, Henry Clay, had such devoted following.

Mr. Blaine had another extraordinary gift, which is said to belong
only to kings; he never forgot any one. Years after an introduction
he would recall where he had first met the stranger and remember
his name. This compliment made that man Blaine's devoted friend
for life.

I had an interesting experience of his readiness and versatility
when he ran for president in 1884. He asked me to introduce him
at the different stations, where he was to deliver long or short
addresses. After several of these occasions, he asked: "What's
the next station, Chauncey?" I answered: "Peekskill." "Well,"
he said, "what is there about Peekskill?" "I was born there,"
I answered. "Well," he said, rising, "I always thought that you
were born at Poughkeepsie." "No, Peekskill." Just then we were
running into the station, and, as the train stopped, I stepped
forward to introduce him to the great crowd which had gathered
there from a radius of fifty miles. He pushed me back in a very
dramatic way, and shouted: "Fellow