was
growing apace. Favoritism bred corruption and corruption grew more and
more flagrant. Succeeding scandals cast their shadows before. Chickens
of carpetbaggery let loose upon the South were coming home to roost
at the North. There appeared everywhere a noticeable subsidence of the
sectional spirit. Reform was needed alike in the State Governments and
the National Government, and the cry for reform proved something other
than an idle word. All things made for Democracy.

Yet there were many and serious handicaps. The light and leading of
the historic Democratic party which had issued from the South were
in obscurity and abeyance, while most of those surviving who had been
distinguished in the party conduct and counsels were disabled by act
of Congress. Of the few prominent Democrats left at the North many were
tainted by what was called Copperheadism--sympathy with the Confederacy.
To find a chieftain wholly free from this contamination, Democracy,
having failed of success in presidential campaigns, not only with
Greeley but with McClellan and Seymour, was turning to such Republicans
as Chase, Field and Davis. At last heaven seemed to smile from the
clouds upon the disordered ranks and to summon thence a man meeting the
requirements of the time. This was Samuel Jones Tilden.

To his familiars Mr. Tilden was a dear old bachelor who lived in a fine
old mansion in Gramercy Park. Though 60 years old he seemed in the prime
of his manhood; a genial and overflowing scholar; a trained and earnest
doctrinaire; a public-spirited, patriotic citizen, well known and highly
esteemed, who had made fame and fortune at the bar and had always
been interested in public affairs. He was a dreamer with a genius for
business, a philosopher yet an organizer. He pursued the tenor of his
life with measured tread.

His domestic fabric was disfigured by none of the isolation and squalor
which so often attend the confirmed celibate. His home life was a model
of order and decorum, his home as unchallenged as a bishopric, its
hospitality, though select, profuse and untiring. An elder sister
presided at his board, as simple, kindly and unostentatious, but as
methodical as himself. He was a lover of books rather than music and
art, but also of horses and dogs and out-of-door activity.

He was fond of young people, particularly of young girls; he drew them
about him, and was a veritable Sir Roger de Coverley in his gallantries
toward them and his