wyer, he was accused of
non-performance of duty; but he died, knowing nothing of the delays
complained of. He was blamed for what he could not help. Some stroke of
ill-health; some untoward worldly [_Transcriber's Note: original says
"wordly"_] circumstances, or something in domestic conditions will often
disqualify a man for service; and yet he is blamed for idleness, for
having possessions when the finances are cramped, for temper when the
nerves have given out, for misanthropy when he has had enough to disgust
him for ever with the human race. After we have exhausted the vocabulary
of our abuse, such men die, and there is no reparation we can make. In
spite of the abuse John McKean received, the courts adjourned in honour
of his death--but that was a belated honour. McKean was one of the
kindest of men; he was merciful and brave.

There was Henry Villard, whose bankruptcy of fortune killed him. He was
compelled to resign the presidency of the Northern Pacific Railroad
Company, to resign his fortune, to resign all but his integrity. That he
kept, though every dollar had gone. Only two years before his financial
collapse he was worth $30,000,000. In putting the great Northern Pacific
Railroad through he swamped everything he had. All through Minnesota and
the North-west I heard his praises. He was a man of great heart and
unbounded generosity, on which fed innumerable human leeches, enough of
them to drain the life of any fortune that was ever made. On a
magnificent train he once took, free of charge, to the Yellowstone Park,
a party of men, who denounced him because, while he provided them with
every luxury, they could not each have a separate drawing-room car to
themselves. I don't believe since the world began there went through
this country so many titled nonentities as travelled then, free of cost,
on the generous bounty of Mr. Villard. The most of these people went
home to the other side of the sea, and wrote magazine articles on the
conditions of American society, while Mr. Villard went into bankruptcy.
It was the last straw that broke the camel's back. It would not be so
bad if riches only had wings with which to fly away; but they have claws
with which they give a parting clutch that sometimes clips a man's
reason, or crushes his heart. It is the claw of riches we must look out
for.

Then there was Wendell Phillips! Not a man in this country was more
admired and more hated than he was. Many a time, addressing