he one base thing in the universe, to
receive benefits and render none." He had a clear business
sense. He was the best adviser I knew of in Worcester, with
but one possible exception, for clients who were in financial
difficulties. He was a man of absolute integrity, of absolute
veracity, and of a tender and boundless compassion. One of
the most touching scenes I ever beheld was, when at his funeral,
among the men of high station and of honor, there came forward
a little group of Negroes and fugitive slaves who had been
attracted to Worcester by its reputation as the home of freedom.
They passed by the coffin with bowed heads and moistened eyes,
every one of them probably knowing him as the friend and benefactor
who had made life possible for them in this strange and unaccustomed
community. He did not get carried off his feet by any sentimentalities.

He was the best of company. You could not talk with him or
tackle him without a bright and entertaining answer. He was
no great respecter of persons in such an encounter. I remember
meeting him one day, when he said he had just been spending
Sunday in Canton. "Indeed!" said I, "my great-grandfather
used to live there, and is buried there." "Well, sir," he
answered, "it may be a very respectable town for all that."

A master of English fiction, who has won fame abroad, and
who dwelt for some little time in this country, has given
a most vivid and accurate description of Judge Thayer, his
speech and his style and eloquence and sense in a novel lately
published. One of the persons of the novel asks an English
friend to the club, which he calls the State Club. He goes
to the Club, and this is what happens:

"The State Club held its meeting in the parlor of the well-
known Warrener House. There were some fifty members present,
who received the Mayor with cheers, as he entered with his
two friends. A good deal of smoke was made, and a good many
speeches.

"Sir Hugh found interest in listening to some of the speakers,
and in looking at some of the members. Montaigne pointed
out all of the notables. One of the speakers* was a short
man, with a corpulent body and a large open face; but he was
a born orator of a certain type. Rounded and polished, mellow
and musical, his sentences rolled from his mouth in liquid
cadence and perfect balance. Sir Hugh put him down as his
ideal after-dinner speaker. He made his points clearly, neatly,
and with occasional vigo