this man in that supreme moment was simply awful.

He had been betrayed by one who should have been bound to him by
every tie of gratitude. He had seen his political idol overthrown.
He had witnessed the defeat and humiliation of what he believed to
be the pure and patriotic spirit of American manhood. His highest
ambition had been foiled, his sweetest hopes frustrated. Yet he was
calm. Ever and anon the sky that arches the Neapolitan landscape
reaches down its lips, they say, and kisses the bald summit of
Vesuvius; as if it recognized the grand impressiveness of this
scene, the Mediterranean at such times hushes its voice and lies
tranquil as a slumbering child; all nature stands silent before the
communion of the clouds and the Titans. But this ineffable peace,
this majestic repose, is protentous. To rest succeeds activity;
after calm comes tempest; out of placid dream bursts reality.

Mr. Stone's calmness, like the whittler's stick, tapered up instead
down. He who had, at five o'clock on that never-to-be-forgotten day,
come upon us with the insinuating placidity of hunyadi janos--he who
had addressed us in the tone of prehistoric centuries--he who bade
us be calm, and at the same time gave us the finest tableau of human
calmness human eye ever contemplated--he it was whom we found at
eleven o'clock that very night, frothing at the mouth, biting chunks
out of the hard-wood furniture, and tearing the bowels out of
everything that came his way.

This singular madness has raged, unabated, for four years. It was so
infectious that his associates caught it--all but three. The men
about the Daily News office who clung to the Republican party
through thick and thin, who endured, therefore, every scoff, jibe,
and taunt which sin could devise, and who, preferring honorable
death to the rewards of treachery, proudly cast their votes for the
nominees of the grand old party,--these three men are entitled to
places in the foremost rank of Christian martyrs. Two of them were
Joe Bingham and Morgan Bates. Bingham is dead now; peace to his
dust. He never was his old hearty self after the defeat of Blaine;
and when, upon the heels of this calamity, he moved to Indianapolis,
Ind., he could stand it no longer and yielded up his life. He was a
stanch soldier in a holy cause; and there is consolation in the fact
that he is now at last enjoying the eternal rewards th