e last
degree, and when he spoke all were thrilled while they listened. Fifteen
years ago, at Lynchburg, Va., I said to him: "The next time I see you, I
will see you in the United States Senate." "No, no," he replied, "I am
not on the winning side. I am too positive in my opinions." I greeted
him amid the marble walls of the Senate with the words "Didn't I tell
you so?" "Yes," he said, "I remember your prophecy." There also were
Senators Colquitt and Gordon of Georgia, at home whether in secular or
religious assemblages, pronounced Christian gentlemen, and both of them
tremendous in utterance. There was Senator Carey of Wyoming, who was a
boy in my church debating society at Philadelphia, his speech at
eighteen years demonstrating that nothing in the way of grand
achievement would be impossible. There was Senator Manderson of
Nebraska, his father and mother among my chief supporters in
Philadelphia, the Senator walking about as though he cared nothing about
the bullets which he had carried ever since the war, of which he was one
of the heroes. Brooklyn was proud of her Congressmen. I heard our
representative, Mr. Coombs, speak, and whether his hearers agreed or
disagreed with his sentiments on the tariff question, all realised that
he knew what he was talking about, and his easy delivery and point-blank
manner of statement were impressive. So, also, at the White House,
whether people liked the Administration or disliked it, all reasonable
persons agreed that good morals presided over the nation, and that
well-worn jest about the big hat of the grandfather, President William
Henry Harrison, being too ample for the grandson, President Benjamin
Harrison, was a witticism that would soon be folded up and put out of
sight. Anybody who had carefully read the 120 addresses delivered by
President Benjamin Harrison on his tour across the continent knew that
he had three times the brain ever shown by his grandfather. Great men, I
noticed at Washington, were great only a little while. The men I saw
there in high places fifteen years ago had nearly all gone. One
venerable man, seated in the Senate near the Vice-President's chair, had
been there since he was introduced as a page at 10 years of age by
Daniel Webster. But a few years change the most of the occupants of high
positions. How rapidly the wheel turns. Call the roll of Jefferson's
Cabinet? Dead! Call the roll of Madison's Cabinet? Dead! Call the roll
of Monroe's Cabinet? Dead