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strength.

There had been a time during my pastorate when Brooklyn promised to be
the greatest watering place in America. We were in a fair way of
becoming the summer capital of the United States. It was destroyed by
the loafers and the dissoluteness of Coney Island. In the autumn of
1886, Brooklyn was more indignant than I had ever seen it before, and I
knew it intimately for a quarter of a century. Our trade was damaged,
our residences were depreciated, because the gamblers and liquor dealers
were in power. Part of the summer people were too busy looking for a sea
serpent reported to be in the East River or up the Hudson to observe
that a Dragon of Evil was twining about the neck and waist and body of
the two great cities by the sea.

In contrast to all this political treachery in the North there developed
a peculiar symbol of political sincerity in Tennesee. Two brothers,
Robert and Alfred Taylor, were running for Governor of that State--one
on the Republican and the other on the Democratic ticket. At night they
occupied the same room together. On the same platform they uttered
sentiments directly opposite in meaning. And yet, Robert said to a crowd
about to hoot his brother Alfred, "When you insult my brother you insult
me." This was a symbol of political decency that we needed. One of the
great wants of the world, however, was a better example in "high life."
We were shocked by the moral downfall of Sir Charles Dilke in England,
by the dissolute conduct of an American official in Mexico, by the
dissipations of a Senator who attempted to address the United States
Senate in a state of intoxication.

Mr. Cleveland's frequent exercise of the President's right of veto was
a hopeful policy in national affairs. The habit of voting away thousands
of dollars of other people's money in Congress needed a check. The
popular means of accomplishing this out of the national treasury was in
bills introduced by Congressmen for public buildings. Each Congressman
wanted to favour the other. The President's veto was the only cure. This
prodigality of the National Legislature grew out of an enormous surplus
in the Treasury. It was too great a temptation to the law-makers.
$70,000,000 in a pile added to a reserve of $100,000,000 was an infamous
lure. I urged that this money should be turned back to the people to
whom it belonged. The Government had no more right to it than I had to
five dollars of overpay, and yet, by over-taxation