he election of Lincoln, in 1860, he was in
Massachusetts a powerful influence. He was a great advocate,
a great judge, a great counsellor. He was in my judgment
a greater intellectual force than any other man in his time,
Daniel Webster not excepted. It was a force before which
Webster himself more than once recoiled. I knew him intimately
and was, I believe, admitted to no inconsiderable share of
his confidence. But there is no space here to do justice
to my reverence for his noble character.

On the whole, the most successful of the Worcester Bar, in
my time, in the practice of his profession, was Emory Washburn.
He was a man of less intellectual power undoubtedly than either
of his great contemporaries and antagonists, Allen, Merrick,
or Thomas. Yet he probably won more cases, year in and year
out, than either of them. He was a man of immense industry.
He went to his office early in the morning, took a very short
time, indeed, for his meals, and often kept at work until
one or two o'clock in the morning of the next day. He suffered
severely at one time from dyspepsia brought on by constant
work and neglect of exercise; but generally he kept his vigorous
health until his death at the age of eighty. He was indefatigable
in his service to his clients. His mind was like a steel
spring pressing on every part of the other side's case. It
was ludicrous to see his sympathy and devotion to his clients,
and his belief in the cause of any man whom he undertook to
champion. It seemed as if a client no sooner put his head
on the handle of Washburn's office-door than his heart warmed
to him like that of a mother toward her first-born. No strength
of evidence to the contrary, no current of decisions settling
the law would prevent Washburn from believing that his man
was the victim of prejudice or persecution or injustice. But
his sincerity, his courtesy of manner and kindness of heart
made him very influential with juries, and it was rare that
a jury sat in Worcester county that had not half a dozen
of Washburn's clients among their number.

I was once in a very complicated real estate case as Washburn's
associate. Charles Allen and Mr. Bacon were on the other
side. Mr. Bacon and I, who were juniors, chatted about the
case just before the trial. Mr. Bacon said: "Why, Hoar, Emory
Washburn doesn't understand that case the least in the world."
I said, "No, Mr. Bacon, he doesn't understand the case the
least in t