a portion of the evidence. At that time Webster was broken in
health. The most beautiful passage in his speech was his tribute to
woman, and at another point he indulged in a very ludicrous description
of the character of the first India rubber, which was offered as a
marketable article. He said: "When India rubber was first brought to
this country we had only the raw material, and they made overshoes and
hats of it. A present was sent to me of a complete suit of clothes made
of this India rubber, and on a cold winter day I found my rubber
overcoat was frozen as rigid as ice. I took it out on my lawn, set it
upright, put a broad brim hat on top of it, and there the figure stood
erect, and my neighbors, as they passed by thought they saw the old
farmer of Marshfield standing out under his trees." Some of his
sarcastic attacks upon Mr. Day were very bitter, and when he showed his
great, white teeth he looked like an enraged lion.

A few months after that Trenton speech in October, 1852, he went to his
Marshfield home to die. His spirits were broken and he was sore from
political disappointments. His last few days were spent in a fight by
his powerful constitution against the inevitable. The last time he
walked feebly from his bed to his window he called out to his servant
man: "I want you to moor my yacht down there where I can see it from my
window; then I want you to hoist the flag at the mast head, and every
night to hang the lamp up in the rigging; when I go down I want to go
down with my colors flying and my lamp burning." He told them to put on
his monument, "Lord, I believe; help Thou my unbelief." In the final
moment he started up from his pillow long enough to say: "I still live."
He does live, and will ever live in the grateful memories of his
countrymen.

While no one can deplore more than the writer the weaknesses and
mistakes of Daniel Webster, yet when I remember his intellectual
prowess and his magnificent services in defense of the Constitution, and
the integrity of our national union, I am ready to say: "Let us to all
his failings and faults be charitably kind and only remember the
glorious services he wrought to the country he loved."

During the summer of 1840, when I was a college student at Princeton, I
went with a friend to the office of the _Log Cabin_, a Whig campaign
newspaper then published in Nassau Street, New York. It was during the
famous Tippecanoe campaign, which resulted in the election