yron,

"'T is Greece, but living Greece no more!"

Soon after the nomination of Tilden for President, Mr. Cox was
invited to attend a political meeting at the State capital, and
address the Democracy of Vermont. When the scarcity of Democrats in
the Green Mountain State is taken into account, the significance
of Mr. Cox's reply will readily appear. His telegram was to the
effect that pressing engagements prevented his attending, but
"if the Democracy of Vermont _will drop into my library_ any
afternoon, about four o'clock, I will address them with great
pleasure."

In attempting to write something of a member so long and so favorably
known to the House as the Hon. J. Proctor Knott of Kentucky, I
am reminded of the opening sentences of the touching tribute of
Judge Baldwin to an honored associate:

"I nib my pen and impart to it a fine hair stroke in order that
I may give the more delicate touch which can alone show forth
the character of this distinguished gentleman. If I hold the pen in
hand in idle reverie, it is because my mind rests lovingly upon
a picture I feel incapable of transcribing with fidelity to the
original; and therefore I pause a moment to look once more at
the original, before it is obscured by the rude counterpart."

It was worth while to have known Proctor Knott, to have been his
cotemporary in public life, the sharer of his confidence, the guest
at his hearthstone. In the highest sense of the expression, he
was a gentleman of the old school. To him there was rare meaning in
the words, "Old wood to burn! Old wine to drink! Old friends
to trust!"

He was as familiar with the Bible, with Shakespeare, and Burns, as
though he had written them. His quotations, whether in private
conversation, or in public speech, were always timely. There
was little in the way of the best literature, ancient or modern,
that he had not read. As was truly said of the gifted Prentiss:

"His imagination was colored and imbued with the light of the
shadowy past. He lingered spell-bound among the scenes of mediaeval
chivalry. His spirit had dwelt until almost naturalized in the
mystic dreamland of the Paladins, Crusaders, and Knights Templars;
with Monmouth and Percy, with Bois-Guilbert and Ivanhoe and the
bold McGregor; with the Cavaliers of Rupert, and the iron enthusiasts
of Fairfax."

He was the inveterate hater of shams of all kinds, and of mere
pretenders of every description. He ever avoided th