He felt that the harvest time was come, to garner in the fruits of so
much planting and culture, and he was determined that nothing he might
do or say should be liable to the reproach of a personal interest. Let
us say frankly he was a party man; he believed the policies advocated by
him and his friends counted for much in the country's progress and
prosperity. He hoped in his second term to accomplish substantial
results in the development and affirmation of those policies. I spent a
day with him shortly before he started on his fateful journey to
Buffalo. Never had I seen him higher in hope and patriotic confidence.
He was gratified to the heart that we had arranged a treaty which gave
us a free hand in the Isthmus. In fancy he saw the canal already built
and the argosies of the world passing through it in peace and amity. He
saw in the immense evolution of American trade the fulfilment of all his
dreams, the reward of all his labors. He was, I need not say, an ardent
protectionist, never more sincere and devoted than during those last
days of his life. He regarded reciprocity as the bulwark of
protection--not a breach, but a fulfilment of the law. The treaties
which for four years had been preparing under his personal supervision
he regarded as ancillary to the general scheme. He was opposed to any
revolutionary plan of change in the existing legislation; he was careful
to point out that everything he had done was in faithful compliance with
the law itself.

In that mood of high hope, of generous expectation, he went to Buffalo,
and there, on the threshold of eternity, he delivered that memorable
speech, worthy for its loftiness of tone, its blameless morality, its
breadth of view, to be regarded as his testament to the nation. Through
all his pride of country and his joy of its success runs the note of
solemn warning, as in Kipling's noble hymn, "Lest We Forget."

The next day sped the bolt of doom, and for a week after--in an agony of
dread, broken by illusive glimpses of hope that our prayers might be
answered--the nation waited for the end. Nothing in the glorious life
we saw gradually waning was more admirable and exemplary than its close.
The gentle humanity of his words when he saw his assailant in danger of
summary vengeance, "Do not let them hurt him;" his chivalrous care that
the news should be broken gently to his wife; the fine courtesy with
which he apologized for the damage which his death would bring