rious son into the world than there was that his
neighbour, Abraham Van Buren, should be the father of the eighth
President of the United States. Thirteen years divided the ages of Van
Buren and Butler; and, while the latter attended the district school
and aided his father about the store, Van Buren was practising law and
talking politics with Butler's father. Young Butler was not a dreamer.
He had no wild ambition to be great, and cherished no thought of
sitting in cabinets or controlling the policy of a great party; but
his quiet, respectful manners and remarkable acuteness of mind
attracted Van Buren. When Van Buren went to Hudson as surrogate of the
county, Butler entered the Hudson academy. There he distinguished
himself, as he had already distinguished himself in the little
district school, acquiring a decided fondness for the classics. His
teachers predicted for him a brilliant college career; but, whatever
his reasons, he gave up the college, and, at the age of sixteen,
entered Van Buren's law office and Van Buren's family. On his
admission to the bar, in 1817, he became Van Buren's partner at
Albany.

Though Talcott began life a Federalist, in the party breakup he joined
the Bucktails, with Butler and Van Buren. It seemed to be a love
match--the relations between Talcott and Butler. They were frequently
associated in the most important cases, the possession of scholarly
tastes being the powerful magnet that drew them together. Talcott, at
Williams College, had evidenced an astonishing facility for acquiring
knowledge; Butler, after leaving the academy, had continued the study
of the languages until he could read his favourite authors in the
original with great ease. This was their delight. Neither of them took
naturally to public service, though offices seemed to seek them at
every turn of the road--United States senator, judge of the Supreme
Court, and seats in the cabinets of three Presidents. Nevertheless,
with the exception of a brief service under Jackson and Van Buren,
Butler declined all the flattering offers that came to him.

It was Marcy who seemed born for a politician. A staid old Federalist
teacher sent him away from school at fourteen years of age, because of
his love for Jeffersonian principles and his fondness for argument.
The early years of this Massachusetts lad seem to have been strangely
varied and vexed. He was the leader of a band of noisy, roguish boys
who made the schoolroom uncomfor