"I am proud to say 'Yes,'" says I, a-bowing my best, in honor of the old
State.

"Then I have some claim on your acquaintance," says he. "My name is
----."

I reached out my hand. The fire flashed into my eyes. "Our United States
Senator?" says I.

"I believe the people have given me that honor," says he.

"And honored themselves in the doing of it," says I.

I declare the man blushed, showing that high parts and extraordinary
knowledge haven't made him conceited. But I hadn't said a word more than
the truth. Vermont, of all the States of the Union, I do think, has done
herself credit in her choice of Senators. There isn't in all the Senate
a man that either of 'em cannot hold his own with, and I don't believe a
rough or ungentlemanly word or action has ever been on record against
either of them."

Before he could answer, a gentleman came and spoke low to him. Then he
said, with a pleased look:

"This is Mr. ----, our other Senator, Miss Frost, who is, I am sure, as
glad to welcome you here as I am."

I turned, and saw a tall, spare man, with the kindest, mildest, and most
speaking face I ever set eyes on. His voice, too, when he spoke, was
just benign. I gave him my hand. If I looked half as glad as I felt, he
must have seen the warmest sort of a welcome in my eyes. I felt honored
by an introduction to these men. Not because they happened to be my own
Senators, but because they are men of heart and brains, capable of
understanding what the people want, and both honest and strong enough to
maintain what they understand. I write this without hesitation, knowing
that there isn't a society or household in Vermont that will not agree
with my way of thinking about them.

I don't think much of beauty in a man, but there's no dreadful harm in
being good-looking, and in that respect our Senators pull about an even
yoke with each other, and can't be overmatched by many States in the
Union.

Well, we walked about the room, and had a good deal to say concerning
the Old Mountain State, while the crowd went in and out down the east
room, through the parlors, and into a great, long greenhouse, blazing
out with flowers that grew so thick and smelled so sweet that I longed
to stay there forever. But by the time I was ready to leave, the company
had thinned off, and Cousin E. E. was waiting for me, a little out of
sorts, for somehow I had lost her in the crowd; but she soon came to,
and when I told her our Senators were