nacious, I confess, Mr. President."
The tears came into his eyes, and he said, grasping my hand
again: "I shall always love you, whatever you do."

I found we differed widely on this great subject. I denounced
with all the vigor of which I was capable the Treaty, and
the conduct of the war in the Philippine Islands, in the Senate,
on the platform, in many public letters, and in articles in
magazines and newspapers. But President McKinley never abated
one jot of his cordiality toward me. I did not, of course,
undertake to press upon him my advice in matters affecting
the Philippine Islands, about which we differed so much. But
he continued to seek it, and to take it in all other matters
as constantly as ever before.

In order that it may not be supposed that I deceived myself
in regard to President McKinley's kindly regard, I may perhaps
be pardoned for saying that his close friend, Senator Hanna,
has more than once assured me that McKinley's love for me
was never abated, and for citing a sentence from an article
by Charles Emory Smith, his trusted counsellor and able and
accomplished Postmaster-General, in this Cabinet. Mr. Smith
says:

"Senator Hoar was the earnest foe and critic of President
McKinley's policy. But President McKinley had the warmest
regard and consideration for him. Nothing, indeed, in public
life was sweeter than the sentiment of these different and
differing men toward each other. President McKinley was anxious
to commission Senator Hoar as Minister to England, and proffered
him the place. It was without any desire to remove him from
the arena of contention--apprehension of such a reflection
restrained the proffer for a time--though the contention had
not then been fully developed."

After President McKinley's death I expressed the public sorrow
and my own in an address to a vast audience of the people
of my own city of Worcester, in Mechanics' Hall; and again,
at the request of the Republican State Committee, at the Republican
State Convention shortly afterward.

I have reason to know that both the addresses gave pleasure
to many of the lamented President's closest and warmest friends
throughout the country. I was afterward invited by the City
Government of Worcester to deliver a historical eulogy on
President McKinley before them. That office, it seemed to
me, I ought to decline. It was not because I was behind any
other man in admiration or personal affection for that lofty