eral of modern times, he bore himself as a
soldier without reproach. Neither in civil life nor in war had calumny
assaulted him. Such a man, entering here upon a new career, attracted
attention the moment he came into this Hall.

It soon appeared to those who watched him closely that he was singularly
modest. This modesty was not diffidence. He was at all times
self-poised. On this floor, addressing himself to a public question just
as in a private conversation among his friends, he always had the easy,
unpretentious manner of the thoroughbred gentleman, but his modesty was
easily apparent in an utter lack of self-assertion. He never put himself
forward except when duty prompted, and then he did nothing for display;
never a word did he speak for himself, but only for his cause.

He made indeed no pretensions to oratory; he had never been trained in
its arts; but his mind was broad and highly cultured, he had a vast fund
of vigorous common sense, and he expressed himself readily and
pointedly. With these faculties he would in time have taken rank as a
strong debater.

While broadly patriotic, he had at the same time a high sense of
obligation to his immediate constituency, and he was patient to a
remarkable degree. His district, you will remember, Mr. Speaker, lay
just beyond the Potomac.

It was an easy matter for his constituents to come to the Capitol, and
naturally many of them sought office at his hands. I sat near him in the
Fifty-first Congress. Often have I known him to be carded out a dozen
times a day; and if he ever expressed himself to me as worried by these
interruptions he never failed to show by what he said that his annoyance
arose not so much from the importunities of his friends as from his
inability to serve them.

In address he was remarkably pleasing. Indeed, his manner was so genial,
so pleasant, so hearty and sincere, that the memory of his kindly
greeting will not be forgotten until the whole generation of his friends
shall pass away. Who is there among his associates on this floor that
will ever cease to remember him as, morning after morning in the
springtime, he came into this Hall, bringing from his home a basket of
roses to distribute among his friends? He was not seeking popularity.
Such a thought had not occurred to him, nor did it enter into the mind
of anyone here. He simply loved his friends, and he loved flowers just
as he loved all things beautiful and true.

Such a man could no