nce the crime and the criminals, and to
allow no one to become a delegate who had aided or in anywise profited
by the conspiracy, but it would not recognise a delegation which
desired to reorganise the party in the metropolis by humiliating a
great association whose regularity had been accepted for many years,
and which had finally turned the State over to the Democracy. This
view had the support of every office-holder and of every appointee of
the Executive, whose great desire to "save the party" had its
inspiration in a greater desire to save themselves. On the other hand,
the minority argued that allowing Tammany voluntarily to withdraw from
the convention was equivalent to its endorsement, thus giving its
nominations regularity. This would compel the Democratic masses, in
order to participate in the primaries, to vote its ticket. Tilden
sought to avoid this regularity just as Conkling had destroyed the
Greeley committee, and if office-holders had supported him as they did
the Senator he must have won as easily.

The convention's treatment of Horatio Seymour also exhibited its
dislike of the reformer. Seymour came to the convention to be its
president, and upon his entrance to the hall had been hailed, amidst
tumultuous cheers, as "Our future president in 1872." While waiting
the conclusion of the preliminary proceedings he observed Francis
Kernan sitting outside the rail with the rejected Reformers.
Hesitatingly, and in the hope, he said, of arousing no unpleasant
discussion, he moved the admission of the veteran Democrat, whom he
described as grown gray in the party harness, and whose very presence
was a sufficient credential to his title to a seat. Kernan, being in
sympathy with Tilden, was _non persona grata_ to Tammany, and Seymour
had scarcely resumed his seat when the ubiquitous delegate from Kings,
with a flourish of rhetoric, promptly substituted another, who, he
alleged, was the regularly elected delegate as well as "the friend of
that great Democrat, John T. Hoffman." The convention, frantic with
delight at the mention of the Governor's name, saw the Oneidan grow
lividly pale with chagrin at this exhibition of Tammany's manners.
Seymour had lived long in years, in fame, and in the esteem of his
party. He could hardly have had any personal enemies. He possessed no
capricious dislikes, and his kindly heart, in spite of a stateliness
of bearing, won all the people who came near him. To be thus opposed
and ba