lar
disfavor directed against Henry Clay was because he proposed the abolition
of slavery.

Those who knew him best loved him most, and this was true from the time he
began to practise law in Lexington, when scarcely twenty-one years old, to
his seventy-fifth year, when his worn-out body was brought home to rest.

On that occasion all business in Lexington, and in most of Kentucky,
ceased. Even the farmers quit work, and very many private residences were
draped in mourning. Memorial services were held in hundreds of churches,
the day was given over to mourning, and everywhere men said, "We shall
never look upon his like again."

* * * * *

Before I visited Lexington, my cousin, Little Emily, duly wrote me that on
no account, when I was in Kentucky, must I offer any criticisms on the
character of Henry Clay; for if I grew reckless and compared him with
another to his slightest disadvantage, I should have to fight.

That he was absolutely the greatest statesman America has produced is, to
all Kentuckians, a fact so sure that they doubt the honesty or the sanity
of any one who hints otherwise. He is their ideal, the perfect man, the
model for all youths to imitate, and the standard by which all other
statesmen are gauged. Clay to Kentucky scores one hundred. And as he was
at the last defeated for the highest office, which they say was his
God-given right, there is a flavor of martyrdom in his history that is the
needed crown for every hero.

Complete success alienates man from his fellows, but suffering makes
kinsmen of us all. So the South loves Henry Clay.

He is so well loved that he is apotheosized, and thus the real man to many
is lost in the clouds. With his name, song and legend have worked their
miracles, and to very many Southern people he is a being separate and
apart, like Hector or Achilles.

With my cousin, Little Emily, I am always very frank--and you can be
honest and frank with so few in this world of expediency, you know! We are
so frank in expression that we usually quarrel very shortly. And so I
explained to Emily just what I have written here, as to the real Henry
Clay being lost.

She contradicted me flatly and said, "To love a person is not to lose
him--you never lose except through indifference or hate!" I started to
explain and had gotten as far as, "It is just like this," when the
conversation was interrupted by the arrival of General Bellicose, who had
com