I have never had the Presidential
fever--not even for a day; nor have I it to-night. I have no feeling of
elation in view of the position I am called upon to fill. I would thank
God were I to-day a free lance in the House or the Senate. But it is
not to be, and I will go forward to meet the responsibilities and
discharge the duties that are before me with all the firmness and
ability I can command. I hope you will be able conscientiously to
approve my conduct; and when I return to private life, I wish you to
give me another class-meeting."
This brief address exhibits the modesty with which Gen. Garfield viewed
his own qualifications for the high office for which twenty years of
public life had been gradually preparing him. While all are liable to
mistakes, it is hardly to be supposed that a man so prepared, and
inspired by a conscientious devotion to what he deemed to be right,
would have made many serious blunders. During his brief administration
he made, as the country knows, an admirable beginning in reforming
abuses and exacting the most rigid economy in the public service. There
was every probability of his being his own successor had his life been
spared.
The inaugural ceremonies were very imposing. Washington was thronged as
it had never been before on any similar occasion. Private citizens,
civic bodies, and military companies were present from every part of
the country. Prominent among the eminent citizens present was the
stately and imposing figure of Gen. Hancock, who had been the nominee of
the opposing party, and who, with admirable good feeling and good taste,
had accepted an invitation to be present at the inauguration of his
successful rival.
And there were others present whom we have met before. The wife and
mother of the new President, with flushed cheeks and proud hearts,
witnessed the ceremonies that made the one they loved the head of the
State. To him they were more than all the rest. When he had taken the
oath of office in the presence of the assembled tens of thousands,
Garfield turned to his aged mother and imprinted a kiss upon her cheek,
and afterward upon that of his wife. It was a touch of nature that
appealed to the hearts of all present.
In the White House, one of the best rooms was reserved for his aged
mother, for whom he cherished the same fond love and reverence as in his
boyish days. It was a change, and a great one, from the humble log-cabin
in which our story opens; it was
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