eign
ships passing Bedloe's Island, by that allegory, should ever understand
that in this country it is liberty according to law. Life, as we should
live it, is strong, according to our obedience of its statutes.

In my boyhood this was impressed upon me by association and example.
When in May, 1885, Frederick T. Frelinghuysen, ex-Secretary of State,
died, I was forcibly reminded of this fact. I grew up in a neighbourhood
where the name of Frelinghuysen was a synonym for purity of character
and integrity. There were Dominie Frelinghuysen, General John
Frelinghuysen, Senator Theodore Frelinghuysen--and Frederick
Frelinghuysen, the father of "Fred," as he was always called in his home
state. When I was a boy, "Fred" Frelinghuysen practised in the old
Somerville Courthouse in New Jersey, and I used to crowd in and listen
to his eloquence, and wonder how he could have composure enough to face
so many people. He was the king of the New Jersey bar. Never once in his
whole lifetime was his name associated with a moral disaster of any
kind. Amid the pomp and temptations of Washington he remained a
consistent Christian. All the Feloniousness were alike--grandfather,
grandson, and uncle. On one side of the sea was the Prime Minister of
England, Gladstone; on the other side was Secretary of State
Frelinghuysen; two men whom I associate in mutual friendship and
esteem.

Towards the end of June, 1885, we were tremendously excited. All one day
long the cheek of New York was flushed with excitement over the arrival
of the Bartholdi statue. Bunting and banners canopied the harbour,
fluttered up and down the streets, while minute guns boomed, and bands
of music paraded. We had miraculously escaped the national disgrace of
not having a place to put it on when it arrived. It was a gift that
meant European and American fraternity. The $100,000 contributed by the
masses for the pedestal on Bedloe's Island was an estimate of American
gratitude and courtesy to France. The statue itself would stand for ages
as the high-water mark of civilisation. From its top we expected to see
the bright tinge of the dawn of universal peace.

THE NINTH MILESTONE

1885-1886

As time kept whispering its hastening call into my ear I grew more and
more vigorous in my outlook. I was given strength to hurry faster
myself, with a certain energy to climb higher up, where the view was
wider, bigger, clearer. As I moved upward I had but one fear, and that