was
again a candidate. The platform was made and submitted to him. He
approved of it. It indorsed the Compromises. But again there was an old
soldier in the field, in the person of General Scott. He had fought the
British in 1812. He had made treaties with the Sauk, Fox, Winnebago, and
Sioux tribes after the Black Hawk War. Yes, he had made a brilliant
record in the Mexican War. In mental stature he was up to the knees of
Webster, and no more. But Webster had no imaginative appeal. He could
only pull twenty-nine votes on the first ballot, as against Scott's one
hundred and thirty-one votes. Webster never had more than thirty-two
votes. On the fifty-third ballot Scott was nominated. And in a few
months Webster died, and left the tangles of statecraft to other hands.

Who was Franklin Pierce? Pretty soon Hawthorne, whose romances I had
enjoyed so much, put forth a life of his long-time friend. "When a
friend dear to him almost from boyhood days stands up before his
country, misrepresented by indiscriminate abuse on the one hand, and by
aimless praise on the other, it is quite proper that he should be
sketched by one who has had opportunities of knowing him well and who is
certainly inclined to tell the truth." These were Hawthorne's words.
Pierce was a gentleman of truth and honor, devoted to his family and to
his country, accomplished, of fine appearance, and always Democratic.
But how could this man win against an old soldier? Webster and Douglas
had lost the nomination, how could a gentleman win the election?

I returned to Chicago and to my business. But Douglas' term for Senator
was about to expire, and he necessarily entered the campaign with vigor.
He traveled from Virginia to Arkansas, from New York to Illinois and all
over his own state. He mocked Scott's letter of acceptance, attributing
its composition to Seward. His physical endurance seemed exhaustless.
All the while he was living and confraternizing and drinking. Pierce was
elected. Douglas won the legislature for another Senatorial term. In the
midst of these excitements Mrs. Douglas died.

She had been to our house but recently. If I had prophesied between her
and Dorothy I should have believed the end would come to Dorothy first.
Dorothy was so frail, so incapable of effort. Already I was beginning to
think of a milder climate for her for the winter.

Douglas now seemed to lose heart. His temper became bitter. His dress
was slovenly, his manners famili