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In Memory of
JOY CURTIS BOURNIQUE
Yale 1918
from the fund established in 1924
by his father
EUGENE A. BOURNIQUE

ECHOES FROM NIAGARA:

HISTORICAL, POLITICAL, PERSONAL

BY

MRS. RICHARD CROWLEY.

Echo, lift thy drowsy head,
And repeat each charmed word
Thou must needs have overheard.
Echo! Echo! — Thomas Bailey Aldrich.

BUFFALO:
Charles Wells Moulton.
1890.

Copyright 1890,
By Charles Wells Moulton.

Q.A\2.G^0

CONTENTS.

Preface. CHAPTER I.
Page.
Niagara:  i
The Great Cataract. — The League of the Iroquois. — Seneca Tribe. —
The Jesuit Fathers. — European Adventurers. — Pioneers of Western
New York. — The Holland Purchase. — Erie Canal. — Lockport.
CHAPTER II.
Erin:  19
Niagara County Once More. — Early Hopes and Return Home. — Maud's
Wish. — Treatment by Native City. — Ancestry of the Emerald Isle. —
Epitome of Irish History. — ' ' Let Erin Remember the Days of Old. ' '
CHAPTER III.
Lockport and Auld Lang Syne: ... 89
Youthful Struggles of Richard Crowley. — Early Partnerships. — Friends
of Old, Friends of To-day. — Edward I. Chase, Judge and George
Bowen, William Keep, Silas H. Marks, Hon. Sullivan Caverno,
Hon. Alfred Holmes and many others. — Teachers and School-mates.^
— Enters the Republican Party.
CHAPTER IV.
Senate at Albany:  146
Becomes New York State Senator. — RoU-Call of the Past. — Reminis
cences of Charles J. Folger, Chester A. Arthur, Thomas Murphy,
A. B. Cornell, Chauncey M. Depew, Gen. George H. Sharpe, Isaac
Bailey, Thomas C. Acton, George Bliss, Rufus Andrews, A. T. Stew
art, Charles G. Halpine, Palmer the Sculptor, Elliott the Artist,
Alfred B. Street and John G. Saxe.

CONTENTS.
CHAPTER V.
United States Attorneyship: .... i68
First Visit to Washington. — Grant Regime. — The Wife of Roscoe
Conkling. — Friends at Utica. — Famous Central Railroad Tax Case. —
Murphy, Collector of the Port. — Resigns in Favor of Arthur. — First
Meeting with General Sherman. — Senator John Laughlin, of Erie,
and his Partner, Mr. Joseph Ewell.— Burning of the Hodge Opera
House at Lockport.
CHAPTER VL
House of Representatives: .... iS6
Elected to Congress. — Hayes Regime — General Grant and his Family.
— Mrs. Kate Chase Sprague. — First Meeting with Blaine. — Election
of Garfield. — Cabinet Slate-Making. — Political Intrigues. — Sena
torial Struggle Between Crowley and Piatt. — Resignation of the
New York Senators. — Death of Garfield.
CHAPTER VIL
Columbia's Capital: ...... 208
Washington Society. — The White House. — Presidents and their
Wives. — Mrs. Cleveland. — Mrs. Belknap. — Mrs. Morton." — The
Shermans. — Hill, of Colorado. — The Paradise of Old Age. — The
Theater of Human Selfishness and Ambition.

CHAPTER VIIL
The Arlington: ....... 220
Second Term of Congress. — New York's Proud Array of Members. —
Richard Crowley, Anson G. McCook, Levi P. Morton, Warner
Miller, Frank Hiscock, John Camp and others. — Chester A. Arthur,
President. — Conversations of Senator Jones. — Album Episode. —
Roscoe Conkling says, " Oblivion of Friends, Forgiveness of Ene
mies." — Birth of my Son Donald. — Letter of Sunset Cox. — Present
from the New York Delegation of the House. — Doctor Bliss. —
Estrangement of Arthur and Crowley. — Maud's Illness. — Roessle, of
the Arlington.

CONTENTS.
CHAPTER IX.
Senator Roscoe Conkling: ..... 249
Love for the Bards. — Memorable Talks on Napoleon, Byron and Mary
Stuart. — A Great Life Ended all too Soon.
CHAPTER X.
Santa Fe and Sierra Madre Villa: . . 266
General and Mrs. Logan. — The Esprit du Corps of the Army. — Jour
ney Through the Desert. — Governor Sheldon and the Friends of the
Ancient City. — The Good Old Bishop of Lamy. — Onward to the
Golden Gate.
CHAPTER XI.
San Francisco: ....... 282
Eden Once More. — Justice Field and His Wife. — Jones, of Nevada. —
" Duke Gwin." — Ex-Senator Sharon. — The Bonanza Kings. — John
W. Mackay, Senator James G. Fair and James Flood. — Madame
Max, the Great Artiste. — Rose Coghlan. — Chinatown. — Loving
Friends. — Farewell Forever to the Enchanted City.
CHAPTER XII.
General Grant:  309
General Sturgis and His Family at the Soldiers' Home. — The Mahones,
of Virginia. — Emory Storrs, of Chicago. — Mrs. Hartshorn, of New
port. — Mrs. Ogden Doremus, of New York. — Old Friends of Cali
fornia Met Again. — Mr. Saurin, of H. B. M.'s Legation. — Doctor
Lamborne. — Mamie Sturgis Comes to Lockport to Stay with Maud.
CHAPTER Xin.
Fifth Avenue Hotel, New York City: . . 337
Miller, of California. — Colts, of Rhode Island. — Pitcairns, of Pitts
burgh. — Funeral of Ex-President Arthur. — Meeting of Many Friends.
— Great Assembling of Celebrities, Many Appearing for the Last
Time.

CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XIV.
General Logan: ....... 348
His Great Battles in Senate and Field. — His Perfect Home. — Grandeur
of the Character of Mrs. Logan. — Mournful Memories of Calumet
Place. — The Hero and the Husband. — The Father and the Friend. —
The Idol of the Grand Army of the Republic .
CHAPTER XV.
A Glimpse of the New Regime: . . , 377
Indiana's Senator the Leader Now. — Our Great Premier, James G.
Blaine. — The Distinguished Corps of First- Assistant Secretaries. —
General Clarkson, of Iowa. — General Batcheller. — General Bussey. —
General Jackson, of New York City. — What Will the Record Be? —
Alcyone.

PREFACE.

During the past year my soul, like some ^olian harp,
has been wakened by the winds of Memory. And it is the
echoes of these strains, now wildly sweet, now sadly sighing,
that I have tried to collect in a sort of mental graphophone,
to which the world's ear might kindly listen for a moment,
in the midst of the grand diapason of sounds forever arising
around us all, soaring, sobbing, exulting, despairing and
unceasing. Though we cannot grasp the anthem of the
spheres, yet we can hear the myriad murmuring voices in
our own orb. The majestic, mysterious monotone of the
sea — the solemn whisperings of the mighty trees in the
forest — the merry laughter of the dancing streams — the
joyous birds' songs — and deeper than all, ever felt and heard,
the eternal wail of humanity, the undying requiem ascend
ing to the skies. In all this, shall one small voice be heard?
The glorious nightingale will surely hold the listener
entranced, yet sometimes the weary wayfarer on life's
journey will pause to hear the humbler melody of the
meadow-lark. And in the glowing picture-galleries, where are gems of
art that hold in small compass imprisoned the skies and
scenes of storied lands; and bright palaces where are
mirrored the mighty forms long since departed — the mon-
archs, the beauties, the sparkle and the splendor of distant
days — the eye will turn from all this blaze of vanished
glory to rest upon some lowly cottage set in the daisy-
starred grass, beside a rippling brook, where some unwritten,
and therefore happy, life glides gently on to eternal rest.

PREFACE.
And I have observed in those beautiful Florentine mosaics,
where the cunning hand of the artist has in the miniature
form embodied in tiniest fragments the picture of a great
cathedral or a historic landscape, that when these are fortu
nate enough to catch the eye of beauty and help to adorn
her loveliness, the favored subject will often be some repro
duction of a peasant's life, or some flower that grew by the
Caesars' walls, instead of the semblance of the stately pile
itself. Indeed, my present work is a veritable bit of mosaic,
and if my unskilled hand has blended, perhaps not harmoni
ously, the different fragments, it is because equall}- in my
heart dwell thoughts and memories of places and events and
people in themselves widely contrasting. I have entwined
the wild rose of Niagara with the shamrock of Erin in
accord with my own fancy, and I humbly hope the little
bouquet I offer will not be 'altogether without color and
sweetness. We have in our own broad, glorious country
manj- a laurel tree growing high and grand. I have plucked
a few branches to place on the brows of those I love and
venerate. And I believe the shade of the gentle Daphne,
hovering around Parnassus' classic groves, would approve
my choice and assure me that not one leaf was misplaced or
wrongfully bestowed.
My husband's life and mine are but the frame of the
mosaic — the cord which binds the blossoms of my simple
wreath together. And with this inevitably is woven the
cypress for grief, and the rosemary for remembrance, which
speak of the early death of our beautiful Maud, who was
born here, who lies buried here, and whose brief existence
was here so rarely blessed and so fondly remembered.
." An anthem for the queenliest dead
That ever died so young,
A dirge for her, the doubly dead
In that she died so young."
I have begun a story of politics called " The Romance of
a Senator's Wife." But though the masque of the opera

PREFACE.
or the drama is on the faces of those whose story I shall tell,
yet I am afraid that some well-known gesture or expression
would betray my characters to the world, and I have been
advised, though the tale is strictly true, not to tell it yet
awhile. Yet so many notable heroes and heroines are
stepping over that boundary line which separates us from
the unseen world that it seems as though soon the time would
come when I could speak with safety. Like the Emperor
Adrian, who dipped a bay leaf into the Castalian Fountain and
anxiously watched the omen it bore — if dark and faded, or
freshly green and glistening with the magic drops, so I will
watch, with hope and fears contending, to see if I may ven
ture another leaf upon the stream of life and destiny.
In the meantime I trust the few faint echoes of mine —
echoes of what I have read and dreamed — echoes of words
and deeds of friends — echoes of political movements — will
please ever so little the many dear, kind friends for whose
sake I have collected them, the friends who loved me long
ago, who sustained me in sorrow, and whose names I revere —
the friends of Old Niagara.
All who know me will understand and forgive my con
stant quoting of the bards :
" Those souls of song,
With whom my spirit hath communed so long,
That, quick as light, their rarest gems of thought
By Memory's magic to my lip are brought."

ECHOES FROM RIAGARA.

CHAPTER I.
NIAGARA.
"There's nothing great or bright, thou glorious Fall,
Thou may'st not to the fancy's sense recall:
The thunder-riven cloud, the lightning's leap,
The stirring of the chambers of the deep,
The tread of armies, thickening as they come,
The blast of trumpet, and the beat of drum!
Oh! may the wars, that madden in thy deeps,
There spend their rage, nor climb the encircling steeps,
And, till the conflict of thy surges cease,
The Nations on thy banks repose in peace."
— Impromptu by Lord Morpeth, of Ireland.
Niagara! Gem of the Earth! Though glorious harps
thy praise have sung, yet would I add my voice to the roar
of thy mighty waters, and, though it were but as a drop to-
thy rainbow-tinted spray, offer from a heart full of grateful
memories, both sad and sweet, a tribute to thy eternal
beauty. 'Tis but the story of a life begun within the hear
ing of thy torrent, and though, when told, it may as quickly
be forgotten as the leaf that rolls adown thy rapid stream,
yet it has been as full of light and shade, of awful storm and
radiant sunshine, as thou, in all thy majesty, hast shown, and,
like thee, beneath the smiling it hath secrets deeper than
aught that may be revealed. For thou dost not tell all!
Even the color of thy river is a mystery.
'Tis an old legend that thou, like the ancient gods, dost
yearly demand victims offered to thy shrine, that since the
first Indian chief sped o'er thy chasm in his frail bark, chant
ing his own death-song the while, before _the waning of
twelve moons at least three lives are sacrificed. But I do
not w>rong thee thus, and only think that in thy mournful
surging is the sweet invitation to eternal rest. Perhaps thou
art the true Stygian river, and couldst tell us all about the
Elysium beyond. At all events, even within our own mem
ory, thou hast witnessed many shifting, changing scenes.

3 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Fancy, glancing backward, sees the red man darting
through thy strangely tinted waters in his swift canoe, or
making thy green forests ring with his hunting shouts and
war-cries. But long before, in the times of which we have
no record, what hast thou seen! Thou wilt not reply!
Thou art as unyielding as the Sphinx, though not as silent,
for thy terrible voice thunders on through the centuries.
Fain would we knovY if some god-like race flourished and
decayed, if some empire here rose to that height of luxury
that ever precedes its fall, if this were once the scene of val
orous deeds and high renown, but we must accept as the
first description of the Great Cataract the one written by
Father Hennepin, a Jesuit Missionary. All beautiful things
must have deeply impressed the mind of such a man. In
one of his letters, to friends at his home in France, he tells
in the humblest way that, in all his travels, he carried the
material for constructing a chapel on his shoulders, thus be
ing prepared to erect a wayside shrine at any spot in his pil
grimage and pour forth, from the heart of the wilderness,
and surrounded only by wondering savages, the incense and
sacrifice of the Mass.
Surely, angels' wings must have replaced that pious bur
den when the good Father was called from his labors here
on earth! The scenery all along the Niagara River is very
beautiful, and I should think some American poet would
sing of it as the Germans do of their beloved Rhine. For
my part, I could say, with Byron, of that romantic stream,
"The river nobly foams and flows;
The charm of this enchanted ground
And all its thousand turns disclose
Some fresher beauty varying round ;
The haughtiest breast its wish might bound
Through life to dwell delighted here;
Nor could on earth a spot be found
To nature and to me so dear,"
especially of the seven miles between Lewiston and Youngs-
town. The Lilies of France, the Red Cross of St. George and
the Star Spangled Banner have in turn waved over the his
toric walls of Fort Niagara. Around it in deadly combat
have raged the red man of the woods and the titled for
eigner from afar. Many a sturdy Englishman, many a gal
lant Frenchman, here joined the great army of the dead.

NIAGARA. 3
The polished Jesuit, in his mission to woo the savage soul
to the court of Heaven, here lived in humility and died in
sanctity. The lives of heroes and adventurers are woven in
the story of the Fort, and could its walls speak, they would
tell many a wondrous tale of human destiny.
The spot was first occupied by the immortal La Salle,
and close by, at Cayuga Creek, he built his pioneer ship,
"Le Griffon." However, the Marquis De Nonville first
began the building of the Fort in 1687. If, also, these old
walls had ears, to what a strange contrast of sounds have
they listened! Firing of cannons and rattling of bullets,
groans of the wounded and dying, and anon the sounds of
gayest revelry ! Strains of sweet music floating afar, while
Youth and Valor dream the golden hours away, and then
the sudden drum-beat, which aroused the dreaming soldier
and terrified the peaceful citizens dwelling in and around the
Fort. The dark shadow of a mystery, on which the Freemasons
alone can throw the light of truth, hangs over Fort Niagara
in the fate of Morgan. He was for a brief space a captive
there, and disappeared Whether he departed to some far
distant land, or to that " undiscovered country from whose
bourne no traveler returns," is not known to the outside
world. As in Venice, when the dread Council of Ten de
creed the doom of any member faithless to their laws, so
this order may have found some bravo to quiet forever the
tongue that had betrayed their secrets. From time to time
thrilling accounts, purporting to be confessions of those im
plicated, have appeared in the press, but all is vague and un
reliable, and the truth is really known only to those most
deeply concerned. But, though there is a natural shrinking
from dark deeds and cruel punishment, there is also in every
noble breast a contempt for the traitor,
"The slave whose treason like a deadly blight
Comes o'er the councils of the brave
And blasts them in their hour of might."
The fate of Andre always inspires *pity, yet I believe no one
has ever blamed Washington for his Spartan sternness in
the affair. Daniel O'Connell, the great Liberator, always
said Ireland would have been free centuries ago, were it not
for traitors.
The naming of Lockport from the twelve combined

4 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
locks of the Erie Canal is one of the memories I most viv
idly recall of my childish days. To my youthful fancy the
stories afterward told of the disputes and friendships formed
by the little colony, who then encamped here to engage in
this arduous task, destined to be so celebrated, are as full of
interest as the tales told of the Battle of the Boyne, or of
any historic spot in Ireland's fields, and I am sure there was
then more rivalry of counties and religion than Erin's Isle
ever dreamed of. And when I think of works like these,
where the brave Irish race have toiled so well, I feel my
blood thrill with indignation at those who would deny then
a voice or a place in the Nation's Government. Who set
tled this country, I would ask, and how long since.? And
this brings me to a retrospect of our own standing-ground,
our home.
This space of the rolling globe now called Western New-
York has been the theater for some of the most magnificent
and awful pageantry of human history. Vanished races,
unknown, dimly mysterious! Savages, with their brilliantly
painted faces, their glittering belts of beads and shining
feathers! Friars with the cross and rosaries, and foreign
adventurers of noble lineage! And thus the way was
opened for the brave band of pioneers, who dared the perils
of the wilderness and endured so many hardships, that we,
their successors, might enjoy undisturbed our peaceful and
prosperous homes. Many high authorities agree in saying
that there are to be found in this region powerful proofs
that it was once peopled by a highly cultured race, who ap
peared and disappeared before the Indians came. And the
early missionaries believe that the relics here can not be
traced to European origin, but that they speak of a more
remote past, perhaps when the Pharaohs reigned in Egypt,
long before Christopher Columbus started on his inspired
and immortal voyage.
It may be that from a still fairer shore than that which ipet
his enraptured gaze when he beheld his vision realized the
martyred explorer may look down and feel repaid for the
ingratitude, poverty and chains which were his reward here.
Only in the strains of poets is this great land called Columbia,
which it should ever be. As genius always feel its own
great mission, what hopes beyond this world must have
consoled him, even in the melancholy spirit with which he
once requested that his chains might be buried with him!

NIAGARA. 5
And, knowing that his achievement would surely immortalize
him, his heart may have swelled with the feeling akin to
that of Shakespeare when he wrote:
"Nor marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme."
At the advent of the Spanish, who were the first explorers,
there dwelt in America a vast number of tribes, all having
different customs and different modes of government, and
speaking different languages. Their history, though very
interesting, is hard to disentangle, being handed down from
one chief to another, breathed and whispered into the belts
of wampum which were their only mnemonic records. His
tory tells us that they were called Indians from the belief
that they came from Asia.
It is of the Iroquois, the Great Confederacy of the Six
Nations, that we, in this region, care most to hear, for not
two-hundred years have rolled away since the Senecas held
undisputed sway over these lovely lands and shining rivers.
The word "Seneca" means "Great Hill People," in their
language, Sonnontowanas, or Mountaineers. Some writers
attempt to trace its origin from the Roman philosopher,
Seneca, while others claim that it is from the Dutch word
signifying red paint, as the Senecas were said to decorate
themselves more profusely with this gay and sanguine color
than any other tribe. The tradition among their people is
that they first burst forth from a great hill near Canandaigua,
which they look upon with reverence as the place of their
birth. They were the fifth nation of the Iroquois. The
tribes comprising this great confederacy were the Mohawks,
the Gneidas, the Onondagas, the Cayugas, the Senecas and
the Tuscaroras.
Though the white man has driven them away, though in
the language of one of their native historians, David Cusick,
" they, have been stripped so entirely of their possessions as
to have retained scarcely sufficient for a sepulcher," yet they
have forever left their names on our rivers, cities and villages.
The Mohawks gave their name to that lovely valley of
which Tom Moore, on his visit to America, sung so sweetly:
" From rise of morn till set of sun
I've seen the mighty Mohawk run.
And, as I marked the woods of pine
Along its mirror darkly shine.

6 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Oft have I thought and, thinking, sighed,
How like to thee, thou restless tide.
May be the lot, the life of him .
Who roams along thy water's brim!"
The Oneidas, the Cayugas and the Senecas gave their
names to lakes and towns. From one end of our land to the
other once ascended the smoke of their wigwams and the
light of their council fires, which, reduced to a dying flame,
have been transferred of late years from the once famous
head-quarters at Onondaga to our neighboring Reservation.
The Tuscaroras live in the town of Lewiston, and from their
home on the mountain ridge, overlooking the blue waters of
Lake Ontario, in their own language, "Beautiful Lake," they
can still enjoy the matchless prospect spread before them,
though they may sadly feel, as some of their race expressed,
that their path will soon lead towards the setting sun.
The Tonawanda Reservation lies on the banks of the
Tonawanda Creek, between the counties of Niagara, Erie
and Genesee. A recent report states that, in all the Reser
vations of New York State, there are now about five-thou
sand Indians. Of these we have in these two places nearly
one-thousand. At Cattaraugus and Alleghany are the rem
nants of Seminole, Cherokee, Catawba and many other
tribes. The Tuscaroras were the sixth nation of the Con
federacy, having joined in 171 2. They were adopted by the
Senecas, whom in addressing they called " Father." There
is still a deed, in the Niagara County Clerk's Office, from the
Senecas to the Tuscaroras, dated September 22, 1810, Book
of Deeds 151, page 168. Old settlers tell of a legend of the
Tuscaroras, which resembles somewhat in outline the history
of our Savior, and this is by some historians thought to lend
color to the tradition that the Indians are descended from the
Lost Tribes of Israel.
Colonel Ely Parker, the hereditary chief of the Senecas,
was on the staff of General Grant from- the battle of Shiloh
until the close of the war. He was deposed from his native
authority for having married a white woman, but it is to be
supposed that, like Antony, he considered the world well
lost. He was a school-mate of Mr. Crowley, and has been
for some years in the Police Department of New York City,
with Police Commissioner Stephen B. French. His sister
became the wife of Chief John Mount Pleasant, who was
for many years the reigning Chief of the Tuscarora Reser-

NIAGARA. 7
vation, and who but recently passed to the happy hunting-
grounds of his fathers.
At our time-honored anniversary, called the Pioneers'
Picnic, the remnant of the once powerful Tuscaroras, Sene
cas, and in fact all the surviving Iroquois revive in some
degree their ancient rites and ceremonies, the corn-dance and
the war-dance of their early lives. Thus they perchance
recall a fleeting memory of the days described by their aged
chiefs, when they roamed with light feet through the forest
glades, with only the bright-eyed snake or the bounding
deer to cross their paths. The howling of the wolves,
which brought such terror to the hearts of the white pioneers,
was but as music to their savage ears. Far wilder was their
own war-cry, as, gayly decorated and armed with deadly
tomahawk, with brilliant quivers full of barbed arrows, they
rushed forth on their destroying path. In all this they
difl'ered from their civilized conquerors, in the fact that they
thus announced their approach. Once on the war-path, no
quarter was given or expected. The wild beast roars before
he springs, the serpent hisses its deadly warning, but to the
highly-cultivated European, often to the professed Christian
alone, is the honor due of striking the defenseless, in whose
ears no battle-note is sounded. He always carries his quiver
full of arrows, but they are poisoned, and he smiles as they
spring from his bow, for they strike to the heart of a friend.
There is also a noted trait in the Indian character which
we might well imitate, and that is, they never forget a
favor. If they also frankly boast that they never forgive an
injury, in this they are again contrasted with the white man,
for they do not pray to the Great Spirit for the welfare of
their enemies, and immediately proceed to stab them in the
back. The Iroquois were a brave and war-like race and had
subdued nearly all the others to their conquering will. Well
might Volney call them the " Romans of the West."
The origin of their Confederacy is traced to Hiawatha,
the legends of whom are mythical and contradictory.
Mythology was with them, as with all people, an attempt to
explain all that seems mysterious in nature, the sighing of
the winds, the moaning of the ocean waves, the dark storm-
cloud and the dazzling sunbeam. In the thunder's loud roar
they heard the wrath of the Great Spirit, and in the smiling
flowers of the forest and the bounteous corn and maple they
read the proofs of His love and care for them. Animals

8 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
were turned into idols as they gazed with wonder at the
birds building their nests, or soaring aloft on free wings into
the boundless blue. The fish swimming through the crystal
waters, the deer bounding with fleet foot from crag to crag,
the glittering serpent winding its deadly way, all seemed to
them something fearful and marvelous. How much more
then would a lofty nature and amiable qualities, combined
with the fierceness of a great chieftan, have led them to look
with reverential love upon Hiawatha, the " wise man." The
literal translation of the word is " he who wishes to wear the
wampum." Elias Johnson, a Chief of the Tuscaroras, gives a different
version from the one embodied in verse by Longfellow. He
states that Hiawatha was a Chief of the Onondagas, and,
being weary of the horrors of war, was anxious for the
blessings of peace. He called a council of his people, but
they were overawed by the terrible appearance of the
mighty Atotarho, who was the head sachem of the Onon
dagas and was greatly feared by all. Their traditions tell of
his prowess in battle and his cruelty to enemies, and in their
native sketches his head is represented as crowned with.
living snakes. This warrior decided the people against
peace, and Hiawatha, wounded and sorrowing, went floating
down the Mohawk in his w^onderful white canoe. Marvel
ous tales are told of his voyage, connected with both friends
and enemies. The legend of Hiawatha's flight is treasured
by the Iroquois as the Mohammedans cherish the story of
their prophet's pilgrimage. He wore necklaces of the white
wampum, which was a well-known token of peace. He had
a favorite daughter, who was ver}' beautiful, with a heavenly
beauty, and one day, when he felt deeply oppressed by the
fear that the Great Spirit was about to send upon him some
great calamity, an enorinous bird flew down from the sky
and snatched his lovely child away. The soul of Hiawatha
was dark in his bosom. His heart was crushed, and for a
long time all efforts to rouse him from despair were in vain.
But, at last, he summoned all his fortitude and, calling his
people together, he appealed to them once more. He told
them they would never be happy while they continued to
war with one another, while, united, they would form a solid
wall against their enemies. Thus came the great alliance of
the Iroquois. He then bade farewell to his people, and,

NIAGARA. 9
while the air was filled with angelic music, he floated slowly
upward in his white canoe.
"Thus departed Hiawatha,
In the glory of the sunset,
In the purple mists of evening.
To the islands of the Blessed,
To the land of the hereafter ! "
This league was formed one-hundred-and-fifty years
before Champlain started on his exploration, and Cusick
thinks at least one thousand years before Columbus. Their
policy was always, if possible, to convert enemies into
friends. Though terrible in war, yet, when their worst
tortures are compared with those of other, and even civilized
nations, the rack, the dungeon, the wheel, the Siberian exile,
the recital might blanch the cheek of the savage beneath the
vermilion war-paint. In archery they rivaled the famous
Robin Hood and his band, and they were also very skillful
as boatmen and in constructing canoes. They wore gorgeous
head-dresses, the very crown of which was an eagle's plume.
This was the badge of the Iroquois, and in their legends the
eagle figures largely, as he was their most venerated bird.
The late Lewis H. Morgan, formerly State Senator of New
York and a colleague of Mr. Crowley in 1867, has given a
vast amount of study and research to Indian Jives and cus
toms. We are indebted to him for the preservation of many
valuable mementoes of their early history. He published
some lovely engraved specimens of the work of the Indian
women of the Seneca Tribe.
I have always thought they possessed marvelous ingenuity
in needle-work. I agree with Mr. Morgan that the moc
casin is in reality one of the most suitable coverings for the
foot ever made by any race. It is superior to the Roman
sandal, and even to some of the modern shoes. It is often
exquisitely embroidered with- beads, and one must feel sur
prised to know that the needle with which this skillful work
is performed is made from the small bone found in the ankle
of the deer, of which the sinews are used for thread. Won
derfully artistic designs are seen in the bead-work of the
Indian women, with an eye for the delicate blending of
colors, and great skill and patience in executing.
Wampum is made of sea-shells, and the small and rare
specimens, perforated and carefully strung, formed their cel
ebrated wampum belts and necklaces. They are used, not

ID ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
only for ornaments, but to commemorate treaties and to
hand down the sayings of the wise men. The Onondagas
have a famous belt, which is said to contain three-thousand
beads. Wampum was also used as money. After the ad
vent of the Jesuits, their necklaces were adorned with a sil
ver cross. Though the figure of a cross was traced on some
of the objects buried by the Mound-builders, yet it was said
not to be the emblem of Christians, but intended to repre
sent a star. Snow-shoes are an Indian invention, and the
Indian baskets are beautifully and most wonderfully made,
often with poor materials.
Their kindness and devotion to their children are well
known, also to the captives whom tliey adopted into their
tribes. But Indians never could be slaves, and they died of
wounded pride when taken prisoners. Chateaubriand says:
"The veneration of mankind for the tomb is a proof of the
immortality of the soul. There, by an invisible charm, life
is attached to death ; there the human race declares itself su
perior to t:he rest of creation and proclaims aloud its lofty
destinies." The devoted attention paid by the Indians to all
their modes of burial, the affection they manifest for the
graves of their ancestors, prove that they, no less than
Christian and cultivated races, deeply feel this sentiment.
Cremation js preferred by many tribes, and the customs
connected with it are similar to those of the ancient Romans
and other nations. The Senecas - Iroquois place with
their dead a cup, candles, pipe and tobacco, the latter being
especially associated with their ideas of bliss on earth. The
Romans prepared a mixture of flour and honey to pacify the
dog Cerberus, who awaited the coming of the shades qf the
departed ones, and guarded alike the entrance to Hades and
the Elysian Fields. They threw spices and perfume upon
the funeral pyre, and the Indians also placed with their dead
many precious things dear to them in life, with the hunter
his bow and arrows, with the warrior his hatchet and his
tomahawk, -with the lovely young princess her necklace of
wampum and all her silver ornaments. The Romans placed
a coin on the lips of the dead, wherewith to pay the pale
boatman Charon to row them across the Styx, the River of
Death. Cremation in history dates back to the Theban
War. The Hindoos, Greeks, Jews and Chinese have prac
ticed it, as well as the Romans and Indians. Now in our
modern times it has again found favor in the eyes of those

NIAGARA. II
who wish to forestall the inevitable decay of the frail shell
that wraps for a brief time the undying spirit.
Embalming was also practiced by some tribes of Indians,
but principally for their great Sachems. Their ideas in this
were similar to those of the Egyptians, who believed, as
they were taught by their priests, that after thousands of
years the soul would return to the body, if unchanged. But
no ponderous tomb that ever yet was reared by human skill
could outlast the ceaseless march, t\\^ gnawing tooth of time.
The mighty monument of Cheops, -when rolled away,
revealed but a handful of dust, all that was mortal of the
mighty monarch who vainly sought to avoid the universal
doom, Byron, speaking of the vanity of human ambition,
says apropos to this:
"Let not a monument give you or me hopes,
When but a pinch of dust remains of Cheops!"
Aquatic burial was a favored custom with a few of the
North American Indians. Some of the tribes of New-York
used canoes for coffins. They were then consigned to the
waves. This custom we also find in ancient history, for
Balder the Beautiful, a Scandinavian demi-god, was placed
in a magnificent ship, and his attendants set fire to it, with
all its costly offerings, and then allowed it to float into the
sea. Longfellow says:
' ' They laid him on his ship,
With horse and harness,
As on a funeral pyre.
Odin placed
A ring upon his finger
And whispered in his ear.
They launched the burning ship!
It floated far away
Over the misty sea.
Sinking beneath the waves.
Balder returned no more."
Alaric, the Visigoth, was buried in the river Busentinus.
His followers forced their captives to turn the river aside
from its course and make his grave in its vacant bed. Many
of the magnificent trophies of his conquests were buried
with him. Then they turned the waters back again, and
the spot was forever hidden from the knowledge of men by
the cruel execution of those who had performed the funeral

12 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
services. Only the river, rippling on forever, sings for him
an eternal requiem. The strange barbaric splendor of tins
burial thus' inspired our own Edward Everett:
"But ye the mountain stream shall turn,
And lay its secret channel bare,
And hollow, for your sovereign's urn,
A resting-place forever there;
Then bid its everlasting springs
Flow back upon the king of kings ;
And never be the secret said
Until the deep gives up its dead.
My course was like a river deep,
And from the Northern hills I burst.
Across the world in wrath to sweep.
And where I went the spot was cursed;
Nor blade of grass again was seen
Where Alaric and his hosts had been."

Ferdinand De Soto, the gallant discoverer of the Missis
sippi, the Father of Waters, found his eternal rest beneath
its waves. Sad was the ending to a life of fevered search
for gold and fame. At midnight, to the mournful chanting
of the priests, they laid him. in his lonely grave. The famous
navigator, Henry Hudson, who first sailed on our majestic
river, for aught we know, rests beneath the waters of Hud
son's Bay, After great endeavors and disappointments he
perished miserably and mysteriously. Bancroft says: "The
gloomy waste of waters which bears his name is his tomb
and his monument."
Tree burial also dates back to past ages, as well .ts crema
tion. It was said to originate in the idea that the soul was
in the form of a bird, and could fly back to its home on
earth more easily than if imprisoned in the cold, dark ground.
Morgan says one mode of burial practiced by the Iroquois
was to place their dead on high trees or scaffolds until
wasted to skeletons, then to take them back to their homes,
and thus they kept them from one generation to another.
After long years, or in war times, they placed them all to
gether, and this is probably the origin of some of the Indian
mounds. Great mystery, however, always surrounded these
mounds, for explorers tell that in the South some have been
discovered which indicate a knowledge of Masonic rites.
The custom of the Iroquois in decking their dead friends
for the tomb is well described by Schiller:

NIAGARA. 13
' ' See on his mat, as if of yore.
How lifelike sits he here;
With the same aspect that he wore
When life to him was dear.
Here bring the last gifts ; loud and shrill
Wail death-dirge of the brave!
What pleased him most in life may still
Give pleasure in the grave.
The paints that decked the dead bestow.
Aye, place them in his hand,
That red the kingly shade may glow
Amid the spirit band."
The Mohawks buried their dead in an upright position,
and Black Hawk, though an Illinois Chieftain, was interred
in this way, with everything placed in his grave to make
easy his journey to the happy hunting-grounds. The Sene
cas built a fire on the grave at night, for a time, to light the
spirit on its journey. In times long ago they captured a
bird and loosed it at the grave on the burial day to carry
away the spirit to the regions of heavenly rest. After a cer
tain number of moons they ceased to mourn and lament, be
lieving that it had entered the place of eternal happiness.
They can not endure to hear the names of their dead, some
of them believing that the body writhes in the grave at
every mention of the word.
The gradual vanishing of the Indian race before the
march of the white men has often been pathetically told by
the chiefs of their tribes in a style of grand and touching
simplicity. I was always deeply impressed with the elo
quence of Black Hawk, Logan and Red Jacket. Said the
last : " Brothers, our seats were once large, and yours
very small. You have now became a great people, and we
have scarcely a place left to spread our blankets."
And the aged Pushmataha, when he felt that he might
not live to return from the council at Washington, said:
"My children will walk through the forests, and the Great
Spirit will whisper in the tree-tops, and the flowers will
spring up in the trails, but Pushmataha will hear not. He
will s-ee the flowers no more. He will be gone. His people
will know that he is dead. The news will come to their
ears as the sound of the fall of a mighty oak in the stillness
of the -woods." We can well imagine the few surviving
ones, when they reflect on the contrast of their past with
their present state, feeling all the more deeply "what they

14 ECHOES FROM NIAG'ARA.
can ne'er express, yet can not all conceal," the sentiment
Mrs. Hemans describes in " The Aged Indian's Lament":
" Sons of the brave, delay no more,
The spirits of thy kindred call;
'T is but one pang, and all is o'er!
O! bid the aged cedar fall,
To join the brethren of his prime.
The mighty of departed time! "
Silent, like a benediction from Heaven, softly descend
ing on the forest wilds of America, was the coming of the
Jesuit Missionaries from the Old World. All along the
Indian trails the banner of Jesus was unfurled, and the
standard of the Holy Cross was raised in the deep forest's
shade and met the eye of the savage, in whose breast it
raised gentle thoughts of suffering and immortality. Travel
ers in foreign countries, like Spain and Italy, where on the
trees of the wayside the crucifix is nailed, tell how the passer
by pauses in his path to kneel, and at the sweet sounds of the
vesper bell heads are reverently uncovered. Is there not in
these silent things a greater eloquence than the most learned
can speak ? And if so, what pen can estimate the beauty
and the worth of the works of the Jesuit Missionaries? The
¦world must give homage to the heroic devotion which
inspired these men of high descent to leave their homes, to
renounce their fortunes and all the joys of life, for suffering
and death, in exile to an unknown land. With what aston
ishment the native savages must have gazed upon the mys
terious ceremonies of the Mass! And about this very time, in
1620, the Pilgrim Fathers landed at Plymouth Rock.
Singularly contrasted in all ways with the cultured and
courtly Jesuits were this rigid and unbending sect. Madame
Roland exclaimed on her way to the scaffold: "Oh, Liberty I
What crimes are committed in thy name!" And how truly
may this be said of religion, for, if the prejudiced Protest
ants can quote against Catholic zeal the tortures of the
Spanish Inquisition, what can they say in defense of the
burning of witches and other cruelties practiced by the men
who came here, not only to worship God in their own way^
but to deprive, as far as lay in their power, all others of the
same glorious privilege? In the annals of every country are
enrolled the bright names of heroes, soldiers and statesmen,
poets and philosophers, and sometimes, when a great man

NIAGARA. 15
passes from this mortal sphere, more than one place claims
the honor of his birth, as
' ' Seven cities now contend for Homer dead.
Through which the living Homer begged his bread."
More dazzling than all military glory, more splendid than
any achievement of genius, is the immortal record of such
names as Loyola, Marquette, Joliet, and hosts of others who
sacrificed their lives in the eternal warfare against evil
forces. The mighty founder of the Jesuit Order, Don Inigo
Lopez de Recalde, known to the world as Ignatius Loyola,
was the son of a Spanish nobleman, Don Beltran of Ognez.
He was born in 1491, and in boyhood was a page in the
Court of Ferdinand and Isabella. Always of a romantic,
chivalric and ardent character, he was for some years a
brilliant and adventurous soldier. But, after receiving severe
wounds in battle, the solitude of long illness led him to
meditate on the next world, and he is said to have had special
visions and grace accorded by the heavenly spirit. After a
life spent in arduous toil and most wonderful self-sacrifice, he
joined in 1556 the great company of saints and martyrs
to which he rightfully belonged.
The tremendous power wielded by the Order of Jesus was
devoted to the greatest good and happiness of mankind. Its
leaders were not only the instructors of youth, but the refuge
of the disconsolate of all persuasions and all ages. The lead
ing Jesuits, in order to carry out their schemes, were often
conspicuous figures in the social life of the European
capitals. Some brilliant novelists of the last century have
frequently introduced a fascinating and accomplished Catholic
Priest as one of the principal characters. It is well known
that the Catesby of Disraeli's " Lothair " is Monsignor Capel,
who -was so popular here in America a few years since, both
in the pulpit and the beau-monde. The life of Marquette
has a very pathetic interest, and his lonely death before a
wayside altar forever hallows the spot which now bears his
name. «
Robert Cavelier De La Salle, of Normandie, was one of
the most heroic of the nobly-born adventurers who ever
came to this region. He gave up wealth assured and high
position at home to place himself under the guidance of the
Jesuit Fathers, and at the early age of twenty-three he
encountered in the New World privations and trials which

1 6 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
would in a short time have crushed any but the bravest
heart. He won great renown for having been the first to
launch a ship upon our western lakes, on the 7th of August,
1679. Great must have been the wonder of the Indians as
they saw this marvelous creation of man's skill and patience,
proudly bearing aloft the banner of France and sweeping
gracefully over those waters which had hitherto known only
the light impress of the swift canoe. This famous and ill-
starred ship was called " Le Griffon," and though, like many
another gallant bark, it was wrecked and lost, yet the name
of the dauntless hero who built it will be imperishable.
Assassinated by one of his companions, in whose breast he
had inspired the malignant envy that superiority ever must
expect, he did not in this world attain the slightest reward
for the martyr-like courage displayed. But since
" Nothing walks with aimless feet.
And not one life shall be destroyed.
Or cast as rubbish to the void,
Wlien God hath made the pile complete,"
what recompense beyond our frail powers to dream must
await such spirits as the Sieur De La Salle!
Strange scenes were witnessed some years later in this
vicinity, and what was then known as New France, now
Canada, when the traders, clad in their richest furs, guided
by the voyageurs who, like the gondoliers of Venice, caroled
gaily as they rowed, and the Indians with their bright
moccasins, their plumes and beads, all held revels together,
on those occasions when the barbarous and civilized wished
to barter and exchange their products. The settlement of
Western New York began soon after Washington caused
the overthrow of the Six Nations, and peace was declared.
The land we live on is familiarly known, to all law students
especially, as the Holland Purchase. Eleven merchants of
Amsterdam in Batavia bought in the New World lands,
which they had never seen, of Robert Morris, a i»an famous
in the early annals of our country. He was at the helm in
all financial affairs during the Revolution of the Colonies,
and was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independ
ence. His life well illustrates the fickleness of the Goddess
of Fortune, whom the ancients always painted as turning a
wheel, showing that all who were up would surely go down

NIAGARA. 17
in its ceaseless revolution. Our modern poets, too, still refer
to the mythical dame, for Tennyson says:
" Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud,
Turn thy wild wheel in sunshine, storm and cloud! "
Owning at one time almost the whole of Western New
York, this great and benevolent man found himself not long
before his death in such altered circumstances that he found
it difficult to pay the postage on a letter to a friend.
Charles the Second of England, the man " who never said
a foolish thing, and never did a wise one," granted to his
brother, the Duke of York, in 1664, along with other lands,
the province which is now our Empire State. This unhappy
prince, afterwards James the Second, thus gave to us his early
name. In London may still be seen the original Charter,
with the royal signature, conveying from one brother to the
other the most valuable grant then in the power of England's
King. Long after one pageant after another has passed
away, the savage -with his first possession, the royal assump
tion of ownership, the pioneer's struggle for the soil, a faded
paper still outlasts them all, with its proud bestowal of a vast
tract of that earth of which monarch and savage can now
but own a grave. All else remains, man alone must perish.
As the title to the land rested in the monarch whose subjects
first discovered it, the rulers of Europe vied with each other
in sending their most daring spirits to explore the country
which they expected would realize their burning dreams of
wealth and fame, Spain first, then England, Portugal,
France and Holland. More of romance and poetry are
associated with the Spanish adventurers than all others. The
story of Ponce De Leon and his search for the Fountain of
Youth will forever be remembered :
' ' A voyager withered and old,
Who came to the sunny Antilles in quest of a country of gold."
The legend tells how the Indian sages told De Leon of a
bright country, where from crystal -waters rose fairy islands
laden with gold and gems, of which one, called Bimini, -was
filled with the most enchanting grottoes, and in the midst of
a most beautiful bower of undying roses sprang a fountain,
the waters of which bestowed the gift of eternal youth on
whoever quaffed of their sparkling flow. They told him the
aged would become young again, and the dying would
revive and arise in eternal strength and beauty. De Leon

1 8 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
was old and the world was receding from his grasp; he
longed with a fever unutterable for one goblet of that
enchanted water from the Fountain of Youth. So on sailed
the Spanish bark, past Spice Islands and by forests where
gorgeous birds gaily flitted and sung, ever in search of the
fabled waters. In dreams he tasted them, in dreams he saw
the sparkle of the Golden Islands. At last, in death, his eyes
saw clearer, and he knew that in Heaven alone was the
Fountain of Eternal Youth.
Robert Morris bought this land from Massachusetts, for
there had been a contest between that State and New York
for proprietorship, owing to a grant, in 1620, by James the
First of England to the Plymouth Council. He afterwards
purchased the Indian title of the Senecas in 1792. The
Holland Purchase is now divided into eight counties:
Allegany, Wyoming, Genesee, Orleans, Cattaraugus, Erie,
Chautauqua and Niagara. The word "Niagara" Avas, after
thirty-nine different modes of spelling, at last pronounced as
now in the time of Marquis De Nonville. It means
" Thunder of Waters."
Courage and hope must have burned brightly in the
breasts of our first settlers, for, when we pause to look back
on the perils that environed them, the obstacles they encoun
tered, their magnitude over-whelms us from the vantage
ground where we calmly survey the scene, as it now lies be
fore us, and contrast it with that early time. There were
almost impenetrable forests, through which a way must be
hewn with the woodman's axe. There were the jealous
and sometimes treacherous Indians, who, though generally
good neighbors, must have felt the superior race to be in
truders on their domain. There were the wild beasts
prowling near those lonely dwellings in the wilderness.
There were the chills and fever which lurk in the earth's
recesses to fasten their insidious grasp upon the toiler's
frame. When all these were but half conquered, then the
terrors of war overwhelmed them. As the settlement of the
Holland Purchase began about ten years after the Revolu
tion, there was an interregnum of but twenty years from
their first struggle with the great forces of Nature for exist
ence to the time when they were compelled to
" Lay down the axe ; fling by the spade ;
Leave in its track the toiling plow ;
To grasp the rifle and the bayonet blade."

ERIN. 19
When the smoke of battle had rolled away, there were
still great labors to perform, chief of which in this section
-was the building of the Erie Canal, of which we are still so
justly proud. The locks, from -which our city takes its name
of Lockport, are a wonderful exhibition of human skill, pa
tience and endurance. I believe they were fairly begun in
1 81 7, and that the first boat, called the "Seneca Chief,"
created a tremendous excitement. They were not finished
until some years later, however. The name of Governor
De Witt Clinton is inseparably connected with this step in
the great onward march of improvement. Many other illus
trious names are also associated with this monument of in
dustry, among them that of Jesse Hawley, who is said to
have first proposed it, and who now sleeps in the old bury
ing ground of Cold Springs. The joyous jubilee which
marked the first navigation in 1825 is one of the bright
memories of the fast vanishing pioneers.

CHAPTER IL

"Breathes there the man with soul so dead.
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land?
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned
As home his footsteps he hath turned
From wandering on a foreign strand ? "
Fair county of Niagara! Place of m"y birth and scene of
my happy youthful days, if in earlier years I vainly dreamed
that beyond thy green fields and bright waters some higher
destiny awaited me and mine, if I restlessly longed to escape
from my native City of the Locks and enjoy the glories of
the great world beyond, hear me now, when I declare that
the experience of a quarter of a century, with its smiles and
tears, its storms, its battles and its disappointments, has
proved to me the worth and devotion of my childhood's
friends! Heart-sick and world-weary, I found in my old
home the truest and best sympathy. When, like Rachel, I
wept and would not be comforted, because my first-born,
¦ the idol of my life, was snatched away, the responsive tear
in the eye of a school-mate was more to me than all the

20 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
gracious words of condolence I received from the highest in
the land. Here, at her own wish, my beautiful Maud was
brought when she knew that her early doom was sealed.
Here my darling sleeps, and here we now hope to stay until,
" Our labors done, securely laid
In this our last retreat.
Unheeded o'er our silent dust
The storms of life shall beat."
' ' Through Sorrow's night, and Danger's path.
Amid the deepening gloom.
We soldiers of an injured King
Are marching to the tomb."
Thus wrote the melancholy young poet, Henry Kirke
White; and all reflecting minds must feel, not only how
brief is the longest period of life allotted here, but how dark
and uncertain is the way. This lesson was early learned by
me, for I come of a short-lived race, having already sur
vived all but two of a once large family. In the older coun
tries it is deemed a proud boast to be the descendant of
lineage of high degree, to wear the coronet, to be a belted
Earl. Yet one of England's novelists has well defined the
meaning of rank. He says, if rank consists of being proud
of the achievements of one's grandfather, or distant ancestor,
thereby having it at second-hand or twenty-second-hand, why
not be still prouder to have it at first-hand, to make one's
own rank and name? As Robert Burns says:
" The rank is but the guinea's stamp.
The man's th gowd for a' that."
Lord Lytton, too, .gives as his opinion, in one of his later
novels, that " the grandest of all patents of nobility is the
one which nature confers." How unmistakably the proud
signet of genius is set upon the brow of some who spring
from the humblest origin! And, alas! how often is its pos
sessor doomed to a life of misery and disappointment, while
the longed-for laurels are only brought to fade upon the
silent tomb! Johnson, Goldsmith and Dryden, no chill pen
ury, no dreaded to-morrow haunts them now. Sheridan, in
his narrow house, dreads no sheriff's writ. Chatterton has
forgotten those hours of despair in his lonely garret, and the
sweet poet of the Scottish people, Robert Burns, may look
down from his bright home above the stars and smile to see
his lowly thatched roof become a pilgrim's shrine, and the

ERIN. 21
goblet on which he one day inscribed a careless rhyme, thus
incurring the wrath of the ignorant Lord who owned it, now
treasured as a precious relic by the remnant of the family,
who, were it not for this incident, would now be totally for
gotten. Here in the New World we carve our own names
on the tablets of time, and though no court enslaves, and no
titles allure us, yet we love to keep those names bright and
unspotted. Perchance, after all, with a feeling somewhat
akin to this described in the song from Don Cffisar:
" I only ask of this proud race
Which ends its blaze in me,
That I, the last, may not disgrace
Its ancient chivalry."
I have always thought myself rarely blessed in my par
ents. They came from Ireland, in early youth, and settled
in the village of Lockport when it -was a comparative wil
derness. I believe the Irish race to be possessed of the high
est mental and moral attributes of any people on earth. Ire
land has been well called the land of deathless friendship
and immortal love. Under the most cruel conditions of
slavery and wrong ever endured by any nation urider
Heaven, she has yet produced the sweetest songs, the bright
est wit, the grandest eloquence in all the world. The
greatest genius England ever knew. Lord Byron, felt in his
boyhood a noble and generous sympathy for the suffering
country so wrongfully oppressed by his own. The only
speech he made in Parliament, before he sailed for sunnier
lands, was an appeal to right her wrongs. I believe Byron
deplored England's treatment of the unfortunate in all times,
for his matchless poem of Childe Harold rings with scorn of
Wellington and the cruel jailors of the caged eagle,
Bonaparte. My very earliest remembrances are of Ireland's chiefs and
kings, and the wondrous tales of their valor, as I eagerly
listened on long winter evenings to my father's glowing re
citals, are blended in my mind with Napoleon's battles, and
I remember gazing on a picture of an Irish Chieftain,
wrapped in a green velvet cloak, and sitting on an impos
sible bank, with the harp of Erin beside him, fully believing
him to be quite equal to the great Napoleon. His name,
famous in the annals of his country, was Brian Borroigme,
Monarch of Ireland, and Hero of Clontarf. Moore has im
mortalized him in the song, " Remember the glories of the

22 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Brave." My father was a hero in the battle of life, as a
friend of later years expressed it, an every-day hero, -who
marched to victory without the sound of the bugle. My
mother w^as a -woman of remarkable intellect. For her
family she felt the devotion of an angel and the courage of
a martyr. She left a home of luxury to share her husband's
lowly fortunes, and never did she have cause to regret her
fate. For many years, apparently forgotten by her own
family, she found hope and consolation in her children.
And of those who grew up- in the influence of this loving
home, at least one would have done honor to the sublime
self-sacrifices made there, and the ardent ambition that
burned like the fire at some ancient altar, pure and undying.
I refer to my brother, James Horace Corbitt, who was gen
erally admitted to be a superb specimen of physical and
mental perfection. Possessed of classic beauty of face and
form, his rare scholarship and his genial and courteous
manners made him the idol of his brief day. He passed
away at the early age of twenty-six, in the year 1865, a most
memorable year to me, for it -was then, only a month before
his death, that my angel Maud came,
" Maud, the beloved of my mother.
The moon-faced darling of all.''
It is proverbial that grandparents are even more tender
and patient with their grandchildren than with their own
offspring, and Maud seemed, with her unconscious charm,
to sooth the awful anguish of that time. They are all happy
together in Heaven now, and I am still in the very thick of
the battle, but little then did they dream that one day I, too,
would drain that same bitter cup. The year 1865 was in
other ways an eventful one to me, for my husband's political
career may be said to date from that time, as he was then
elected to the State Senate of New York. Before I attempt
to describe the people whom we afterwards met, and who
became associated and identified with our lives and the his
tory of those years, let Memory, like the fabled magic
mirror of the necromancer, produce at will the forms and
scenes of the far distant past, not only of my native village,
but of the " old country " whose storj' of sorrow saddened
my childish mind, whose fabled Banshees I heard in every
wailing wind, and whose sprites and fairies I dreamed of on
midsummer nights.

ERIN. 23
Though the Lockport of to-day would be considered as
greatly advanced from the village of my first recollections,
yet we all, on growing old, are apt to fancy that our sur
roundings in youth possessed a certain glamour, and often
remark " It was not so when I was young! "
" When I was young !
Ah, woeful when, that I should say when I was young;
Life went a-Maying with Nature, Hope and Poesy, when I was young.''
In all human destiny, however humble, there is some
romance, and truth is stranger than fiction, as the old proverb
says; but some lives are more.darkly mingled with storm
and tragedy than others, and I believe that superiority, or
distinction of any kind, must be paid for in a corresponding
degree of suffering. Not only that highly-wrought natures
feel more keenly the extremes of joy and sorrow, but one
must pay an inevitable penalty for glory ; and more espe
cially is this true of political success. I have often wondered
-why the most colossal fortunes, with all their gorgeous en
vironments, should not arouse the serpents of envy and
hatred that forever hiss around the statesman's path. I also
think that certain people have a strange magnetism or atmos
phere of attraction about them, owing to the fact that they
are, or have been, destined to great trials. This fancy,
which has often occurred to me, I have recently seen very
well described in a novel called the " Right Honorable." It
speaks of the heroine as being marked by the Cross of Des
tiny. Such people have a charm beyond youth, beyond
beauty; it is the mystic power of the soul.
I suppose I must have inherited from my ancestors of the
Emerald Isle my ardent love of poetry and romance. From
childhood's days the queens and heroes of Walter Scott's
novels were as real to me as the people by whom I was sur
rounded; I mourned the sad fortunes of the beautiful Mary
Stuart; in fancy I saw her in those sunny youthful days,
when life -was a shining pageant, in -which she was the most
dazzling figure, and -which, even now, across the centuries,
her very name illumines; or again, as a cruel fate bore her
far from those happy shores, and she gazed through tears at
the dear France, whose fast receding hills she would never
more behold; or at cold and dismal Holyrood as, in some
dark hour, overcome by the remembrance of youth's brief
dreams and blasted hopes, she bade the minstrel Rizzio touch.

24 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
the lute, and with the songs of early days, the bright days at
Navarre, charm her into a blissful reverie and oblivion of
the dreary surroundings in Scotland. In dreams I heard the
dying cry of Rizzio and saw the false and treacherous face
of Darnley, when she turned upon him in the majesty of
beauty and outraged pride, and, crushing back the tears,
vowed she would no longer weep, but think of revenge; or,
with a few loyal knights around her, as she made one last
desperate struggle fsr deliverance from foes within and foes
without, only to see her royal banner stricken down, her
brave troops routed, and herself a fugitive, thrown for pro
tection on England's hostile shores, and falling into the mur
derous grasp of her direst foe, Elizabeth.
And the last terrible scene at Fotheringay, when the long
captivity was ended, and the treachery of the infamous Eliz
abeth came to its climax in the murder of her lovely and
defenseless victim! Imagination, so powerful in youth, pic
tured to me the scaffold, the headsman with his awful axe,
as the beautiful Queen of Scots, with the inspired courage
that befitted one about to step beyond all the thrones of this
world, passed on to her doom. Decked in sable robes was
the fair form, and a white veil fell softly over her, and the
cross she loved so well, the emblem of her religion, hung
from her neck. She died for two reasons, perhaps, but I
think Elizabeth would have forgiven her claim to the triple
crown, and even her Catholicity, sooner than her beauty.
That loveliness, which wove a spell on all the world, which
holds it yet, even though three-hundred years have past, was
not a thing an ugly woman could endure to look upon.
" The fatal gift of beauty !" said Byron while in Italy. In
these few words lies embodied the wisdom of all the sages.
As the world seldom tolerates genius until after the death of
its possessor, so rare beauty is a thing people do not like to
see. If it meets an early grave, it is well, but woe be unto
the few who survive, for their roads are over burning plow
shares, and they shall never know justice or mercy.
I watched with Rebecca at the window of the castle
where the wounded Ivanhoe lay, listening to the news of
the battle. 1 saw the raven plume of Richard Cceur De
Leon, as he swept on to victory. " The Black Knight's
thundering blows are heard above all the din and shouts of
the battle; stones and beams are hurled down on the bold
champion; he regards them no more than if they were

ERIN. 25
thistle-down or feathers!" said Rebecca. "By Saint John
of Acre," said Ivanhoe, " methought there was" but one man
in England that might do such a deed!" The story and
character of Richard the Lion-Hearted have not failed in my
mind, but still flash to my remembrance, when I see one
man defend himself against many foes. Greatness and
valor always arouse traitors and ingrates to opposition, but
all history shows that, after long exile and heroic suffering,
the leader comes to his own again. And who then 'are so
ready to fawn and flatter as the wretches who have
attempted the role of assassins?
With Byron, in his immortal Pilgrimage of Childe Har
old, I seemed to see every historic spot, and thought him
then as now, " the grand Napoleon of the realms of rhyme."
Of all the myriads who have viewed the scenes he so mag
nificently describes, who could portray them in any way to
rival him? He had, and has, no peer. What he wrote of
Sheridan may be well applied to himself: "Nature made
but one such man and broke the die." Our native poet,
Longfellow, has beautifully said:
" We have two worlds about us, within us and without us ;
Without the somber real;
Within our heart of hearts the beautiful ideal."
Who, that can roam at pleasure in the land of the ideal,
even though it prove at times a worldly disadvantage, would
ever resign the blissful privilege? Who that has drank at
the Castalian water would ever slake his thirst at common
founts again? Steep are the slippery heights of Parnassus,
but blest are they who can bring from the fabled mount even
" one leaf of Daphne's deathless plant." Having in my
cradle heard the humming of the Attic bees, although they
never alighted near enough for inspiration, it is not strange
that the remembrance of every incident of my early life, and
of every friend of those days, should be tinged with the ra
diant hues of romance. Time but enhances the charm, and
my heart thrills with grateful tenderness as I recall those
vanished years.
Nothing that I have ever read in novels or witnessed in
dramas has ever impressed me more than the following
occurrence of my childhood. As I have already said, my
mother's family were estranged from her for years after her
marriage, and in the cares and struggles of life in a new

26 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
country she could not always still the longing to see once
more some one of her own kindred. She had often told us
of her brother Bernard, who had been educated at Maynooth
College for the priesthood, and whom she had not seen in
many long years. In some indirect -way it was rumored that
he had come to this country and settled in New-Orleans, and
this aroused in her mind a hope that they would meet again,
and all would be forgiven. So one day I opened the door
for a stranger, who inquired for my mother, and so en
chanted was I at first sight that, if I had been told he was a
wandering emperor in disguise, I should have deemed it
quite fitting and probable. Since that day of long ago I
have met many of the world's distinguished men. But never
one whose address was so charming, -whose manners were
so absolutely faultless. With all the polished grace of a
Chesterfield, he possessed an indefinable personal fascina
tion, which I now think was always associated with a deep
sentiment of melancholy. For a Roman Catholic Priest it
is a misfortune to possess a genial nature and a warm and
generous heart. For the born anchorite the path is easy,
but, alas! what thorns await him who is allured to touch the
fe-w roses -which blossom in life's dreary desert! When I
presented him to my mother, she did not recognize him at
all, and he, fearing the shock of excitement which might be
caused by the sudden revival of ties long severed, the vibra
tion of strings in the harp of life so long silent, at first spoke
gently and cautiously to her of her brother, saying he had
met him in the South. He then said adieu for a few hours,
promising to come later in the evening, as he was stopping
with a party of travelers at the " Eagle Tavern," which
many old settlers of Lockport will remember. It was
burned down not long afterwards, in what was then consid
ered a great fire. The name became fixed in my mind, as I
often chanced to hear allusions made to it, in later times, by
people who had visited Lockport in those early days of its
history. No sooner had he departed than some look or
tone, not fully seen or felt at the moment, flashed over the
mind of my mother. She exclaimed, " I believe it is Ber
nard himself! " And how we all watched for his return!
"No lovelorn swain in ladies' bower
E'er panted for the appointed hour "
as we to meet the dear kinsman of whom we had heard so
much.

ERIN. 27
When at last he appeared, he was attired in the long black
soutane, the distinctive robe of the priesthood, and looked
more distingufi than ever, being completely transformed from
the elegant man of the world he appeared before. He was
pale with emotion, and his musical voice faltered, as he
turned to my mother and said, " Well, Anne, do you know
me now? " She threw herself into his arms, and in the tears
which followed the estrangement of years was blotted out
forever. The melody of his voice I can never forget.
Indeed it is a great charm. As Byron says:
" The Devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice.
An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.''
So might it be when dangerously used, but when it has
issued from the lips of those we love, and when we hear
those tones no more on earth, we can only hope they will
fall unchanged on our listening ears in that home where
farewells are never uttered. After a life such as the gods of
old were said to favor, that is, evenly checkered with good
and evil fortune, a life full of adventure and romance, now
quaffing the nectar of joy, and anon draining the gall and
wormwood of penance, after all the brilliant social triumphs
in his loved home in Ireland, and all the gay world of New
Orleans and the West, he died, in the very prime of life, at
Keene, New Hampshire. He is buried here in Lockport,
beside my mother, though all the others of his family are
resting beyond the blue ocean. But that matters not now,
for, "Asleep in Jesus, far from thee
Thy kindred and their graves may be;
But there is still a blessed sleep,
From which none ever wake to weep."
As the sound of some dear familiar air, heard on a foreign
shore, is said to awaken memories of distant home, so to me
the very mention of Erin's green banner, so tear-stained and
trampled, the sight of the shamrock's sacred leaf, or the sad,
sweet wail of the Irish harp, recalls the days of long ago
when I sat, a child, at my dear father's knee, and listened
entranced to the stories of the chieftains, bards and kings of
ancient times. The love of the land of our ancestors burns
deeper with the memory of her wrongs. So the children of
the Green Isle -will forever keep as fresh as her emerald
verdure the hope of final vengeance.

28 ECHOES FROM NIAi^ARA.
" Let Erin remember the days of old.
Ere her faithless sons betrayed her;
When Malachi wore the collar of gold,
Which he won from the proud invader;
When her kings, with standard of green unfurled.
Led the Red-Branch knights to danger,
Ere the emerald gem of the western world
Was set in the crown of a stranger."
This verse is the epitome of Irish history and might be the
nucleus of a volume. The name Erin, or Eire, is said to
have signified western. But the Island has been called by
so many names, fanciful and poetic, as well as those founded
on ancient history, that it is difficult to give a reason for
them. By some the first syllable, the Runic term for a bow,
is thought to mean that it was to be designated as the land
of the bow, as the Irish were famous experts in archery.
Again, it is supposed to mean in the English tongue
the land of Ire, or anger, as there was so much discord.
And, surely, the English, from the sad hour in which they
first set foot there, gave them little chance for harmony.
Milesius, ancestor of the ancient Irish, had a son called Ir,
which may account for this name. The origin of Hibernia,
the name so often given in song, is unknown, though some
trace it to Hebor, another son of Milesius. And others trace
it to the name of Iberia, for the Scythians, a wandering race,
were also called Iberians. And as the Spaniards are
descended directly from the Iberians, and as some of them
settled in France also, it is thus that the connection is traced
between the shamrock of Erin, the olive of Spain and the
fleur-de-lis of France.
The mists of fable and antiquity now hang thickly over
those ancient days. But the records of the bards, who dwelt
in every chieftain's hall, have been handed down and pre
served carefully by their posterity. "A tale of the times of
old. The deeds of days of other years," said Ossian. Ac
cording to him, the bards were believed to be inspired, and
their harps were said to give forth a prophetic sound before
the death of a person worthy of renown.
" The lone blast touched their trembling strings,
The sound was sad and low."
And before a battle " The awful faces of other times looked
down from the clouds of Crona." The deep regret of my
childhood was that I was not born in that lovely and sorrow-

ERIN. 29
ful land, with its ruined castles, its wild hills and romantic
streams. And never can I forget the pathos of my mother's
voice, singing one of the Irish melodies which so sweetly
expressed the feelings of the exiles at their departure for
that free land they had heard described in such flowery
terms : " As slow our ship her foamy track
Against the wind was cleaving,
Her trembhng pennant still looked back
To that dear isle 't was leaving.
So loath we part from all we love,
From all the links that bind us;
So turn our hearts as on we rove
To those we left behind us."
My protest against the cruelty and treachery of the Eng
lish Government is, I know too well, as powerless as the
moanings of the sea on the shore of the afflicted Green Isle,
but [ am proud to know that the harp of Erin was awakened
to strains immortal by the genius of Moore; that the laurels
he won are unfading, and that no country can boast of
brighter names than those of the sons of Ireland. Though
I yield to no one in the pride I feel in my native land of
America, the most glorious government the world has ever
seen, yet, while life lasts, I shall sadly dream of the beautiful
Island of my ancestors and her mournful story of woes.
In rehearsing briefly here the drama of her wrongs, I
hope to stir some chord in the breasts of those who have
judged harshly of her destiny, and blamed the impulsive
character of her people for so much of her disaster. The
reasons for her forlorn condition all seem so clear to me,
from first to last, and I have been deeply pained to feel that
some of the friends, who loved me fondly and truly, yet
despised the race from which I sprung. But I glory in the
thought that in the veins of my children flows what I feel to
be the best blood on earth. Saints, heroes, kings, chieftains
and bards have shone like bright stars in the sad history of
Erin, and I hope that, if I do not live to see her sun of free
dom rise, my children will feel somewhat of the inspiration
the noble Byron felt, expressed in these lines, written a few
days before he laid down his life for Greece:
"Awake, my spirit! Think through whom
Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake,
And then strike home ! "

30 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Since the History of England is familiar to all, young and
old, and the story of Henry the Eighth, with his divorced
and murdered wives, is spoken of as the herald of religious
improvement; since his infamous daughter, Elizabeth, is
lauded by able writers as a model sovereign, though really a
woman steeped in the foulest crimes; since the daughters of
James the Second, the Lear of later days, are styled good
and pious, though they drove their own father to end his
davs in exile, dependent on the charity of the French King,
it seems but just that the story of Ireland should be heard.
Certainly the children who trace their ancestry to her should
at least be familiar -with her true history, and know to whom
they were indebted for her glory, and whose brave young
blood was shed in vain for her defense. Yes! dear to me is
Niagara's glorious flow, and dear the memory of my childish
days in our Lockport home, but blended with all this is a
deep, though perhaps vain, desire to see the people of
Ireland freed from the curse of. oppression, to feel that the
Shannon and the Boyne and the bright w^aters of Killarney
reflect scenes of contentment, prosperity and peace, like
those we enjoy under our own loved Star Spangled Banner.
I would love to see the Sun-Burst of Erin torn from the
Dragon and St. George of England. I -would love to hear
from her harp a joyous strain at last, instead of the perpetual
lament of slavery! Gladstone, though thy days incline
towards the setting of thy sun! Parnell, though care and
pain have worn upon thee! live to see the rew^ard Jof your
labors, to know that Fame never yet wrote upon her tablets
names so bright and blest as yours, if Home Rule should
triumph once more, and o'er the deserted Parliament Hall in
Dublin the shades of O'Connell, and Grattan, and Curran
should smile again!
When our forefathers sailed from Spain, it had been fore
told to them that in the western seas they should find an
island called Innisfail, the " Island of Destiny."
"And, lo ! where afar o'er ocean shines
A sparkle of radiant green.
As though in that deep lay emerald mines,
Whose light through the wave was seen."
A tribe of Norwegians, who went to Ireland in early pagan
times, brought with them the stone which gave the name of
Innisfail. It was called the Stone of Destiny, and was

ERIN.

31

always used at the crowning of kings. The old superstition
was that, if the stone was preserved, the same race would
continue in power. In the thirteenth century it was stolen
by Edward of England, and has ever since been used at the
coronation of their kings, and is now in Westminster Abbey.
The island is also called Insula Sacra, or Sacred Island,
because there are no poisonous reptiles there, and sometimes
"The Island of the Betrayed;" since the conquest of Lim
erick by the cruel William of Orange, the "City of the
Broken Treaty."
The allusion to Malachi, a valiant king of the tenth cen
tury, illustrates the wearing of the collar of gold, and it is
also told in ballads and legends that the Irish princes wore
many pearls, which -were found in great abundance on the
shores. Why the chosen color of their banner was green,
unless it be suggested by the emerald hue of the sod, has not
been said. The banner on land was the Harp on the Green,
probably to indicate the national love of music, and the
ancient name for the sea-flag was the " Sun-Burst of Erin,"
sung by many a faithful bard, and in our times glorified by
the verse of Father Ryan, the poet-priest of the South.
The history of Knights of the Red Branch dates back to
pagan days, long before good Saint Patrick the patron saint
of Ireland, came to tell the story of our Savior. This was
in the fifth century A. D. Around this figure, familiar to
the whole civilized world and emblazoned on countless
church windows in so many lands, hovers a halo of romance
which seems to idealize the lovely story of his life on earth.
As he is always represented with the serpent crushed be
neath his feet, this is thought by some historians to be alle
gorical of the triumph of good over evil. But as it was the
serpent who destroyed the purity and bliss of Eden, it would
seem as though Ireland, more than any spot on earth, was
destined to be happy and innocent until the fatal day when
the English came, and the banished reptile triumphed once
more. Saint Patrick, or Patricius, as Pope Celestine called him,
baptized the kings and converted all Ireland to Christianity.
Patricius, from the Roman " jDatrician," signifying a mem
ber of the Roman nobility, has been strangely metamor
phosed here in America as a term of reproach and contempt,
with no apparent reason. The precise spot of his birth is
unknown, but he was of Roman origin, of the family of

32 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Calphurnius, and was first taken captive to Ireland at the
age of sixteen. Oliver Cromwell, of accursed memory,
caused his soldiers to scatter and destroy the relics and bones
of this patron saint. Saint Patrick used the leaf of the
shamrock to illustrate the Trinity, and so it became the em
blem of Ireland. " The chosen leaf of bard and chief.
Old Erin's native shamrock."
And from this mystic emerald trefoil the serpent's enven
omed head forever shrinks.
The famous Wars of the Roses, though they kept Eng
land involved in bloodshed, yet had a sweet and fragrant
mission, worthy of the name, in that they delayed for a time
the fastening of Ireland's chains. Flowers are beautiful and
typical of love and hope, or of despair and death ; but, when
the rose is used, as it was in England, to distinguish the
rival adherents of a civil war, it seems strangely inappro
priate. The ancient Greeks and Romans entwined roses
and myrtle for the brows of the revelers at joyous banquets,
but they never bore them to scenes of blood and carnage,
though they crowned the victors with them on their tri
umphal return. It was always very difliicult for me to
remember to whom the red rose or the white rose belonged,
and I could only properly assign the red rose to the House
of Lancaster, and the white rose to the House of York, by
the recollection of a charming little verse sent by a Cayalier
of the York faction to his sweetheart at Lancaster:
" If this fair rose offend thy sight,
Placed in thy bosom bare,
'Twill blush to find itself less white,
And turn Lancastrian there.
But if thy ruby lips it spy.
As kiss it thou may'st deign,
With envy pale 'twill lose its dye
And Yorkish turn again."
The succession of Henry the Fourth of England, who was
Duke of Lancaster, begun the Wars of the Roses, the first
battle being fought against him by Richard Plantagenet,
Duke of York, A. D. 1455, and these feuds, which inter
rupted for many years the complete conquest of Ireland, did
not end till the reign of Henry the Seventh, who married
Elizabeth of York.

ERIN. 33
Good, an English priest of the sixteenth century, haying
lived many years in Ireland, said: "They are a nation to
be prized for their strength, and particularly for the activity
of their bodies; for a greatness of soul; they are witty and
warlike, prodigal of life, hardy in bearing fatigue, cold and
hunger; courteous and kind to strangers, constant in their
love, hating also, seldom forgiving, too credulous, greedy of
glory, and quick to resent injuries and insults." Another
historian says: " The Irish are the most patient in fatigue,
the most warlike; rarely do they suffer themselves to be cast
down, even in their heaviest afflictions."
Sir Jonah Barrington says in his " Rise and Fall of the
Irish Nation": " The Irish peasant has, at all periods, been
peculiarly distinguished for unbounded but indiscriminate
hospitality, which, though actually devoted to the neces
sities of a friend, is never denied by him even to the distresses
of an enemy. To be in want or misery is the best recom
mendation to his disinterested protection ; his food, his bed,
his raiment are equally the stranger's and his own; and the
deeper the distress the more welcome is the sufferer to the
peasant's cottage. His attachments to his kindred are of the
strongest nature. The social duties are intimately blended
with the natural disposition of an Irish peasant; though cov
ered with rags, oppressed with poverty and perhaps with
hunger, the finest specimens of generosity and heroism are
to be found in his unequaled character." Indeed, hospitality,
often carried to excess and ruin, is a characteristic of the
entire people.
The Milesians, or ancient Irish, trace by chronicle and
tradition their descent to the sixth generation of Noah.
They claim that their chief, Gaodhal, was cured of a ser
pent's bite by the touch of the wand of the prophet Moses,
who had foretold that the land destined to be inhabited by
his posterity would be forever free from reptiles. This
accords with the prediction of the Druids. This people were
driven from Egypt, went to Spain for many years, and it
was not until the eighth generation that Milesius settled in
Ireland. Magog, the son of Noah, once occupied Scythia,
now Tartary, and from him were descended both the Gade-
Hans and Milesians. The Gaelic or Celtic race, of Asiatic
origin, are now found in Ireland, France, Wales and Scot
land, and many points of similarity can be traced to this day
in their descendants, especially in the Irish and the French.

34 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
The ceremonies of the Druids, those priests and prophets of
ancient days, are now noted only by the poet and scarcely
touched even by the historian. It is said that the traces of
their mystic circles can be found now in only one place in
England and in tlie Isle of Wight. They always selected
oak trees for the theater of their rites. The Milesians
thought the word "Druid" meant "oak." At all events,
they have given to those trees an interest similar to that
felt by the Greeks, who thought them sacred to Jupiter, and
that the mistletoe which grew from them was sacred also,
being considered an antidote to disease. In Ireland, in the
early times, the Druids were like the Magi to the Persians,
the Chaldeans to the Assyrians. They had great faith in
their predictions and held them in the highest reverence.
And, later, convents were built near oak trees in the time
after Ireland was converted to Christianity, as though some
divine protection dwelt in the sturdy and enduring branches
and leaves of the mystic tree, sacred to the gods of old.
After the Milesians went from Spain into Ireland, there
was only one king reigning for many years; then they
changed to the custom of having four, and sometimes five,
kings to rule over the provinces. However, these were all
subject to one, and the provincial kings submitted all disputes
to him. All this was in pagan times. Finally the revolt of
the plebeians against the nobility causing internal factions,
the attacks of the Normans rent the kingdom and so
depleted its unity and strength that the way was made easy
for the great innovations of the twelfth century. That
was a woeful time for Ireland! Never since then has she
known real tranquillity, for, though often deluded by hope,
'twas but to be again crushed by dark despair. Like a vic
tim on the rack, enough cordial has been pressed to her lips
to keep her from perishing, and she has been kept alive to
endure and suffer more than all other nations on the earth.
Will her star of liberty ever dawn? Will the hateful Eng
lish chains ever be unbound? This early time, sung in the
wandering minstrel's lay, the time of the chiefs and clans
men, of the bards who chanted the praises of great men and
their families and perpetuated the record of their heroic
deeds, of the Psalter of Tara, where the chronicles were
held, and the coats of arms were given to each lord or chief
to distinguish him from all others; and where those brave
mottoes were first adopted, of which the finest and most

ERIN.

35

beautiful are still found among the old nobility of Ireland,
was destined to pass away for a strange combination of
events, in which light and shade were blended, that is, re
ligion, crime and treachery.
The Druids had foretold the birth and death of Jesus
Christ, and when St. Patrick came, the warlike strains of
the bards and minstrels were changed into praises of His
goodness. They left the earthly for the heavenly glory.
But well and nobly had they sung, and the story of their
heroes shall not fade in the minds of the children of the
Green Isle. Many a time, in the bitter later years, -would
thoughts of such strains as this arise, " Con of the hundred
fights, sleep in thy grass-grown tomb, and upbraid not our
defeats with the memory of thy victories!" Thus sung
O'Gnive, the Bard of Shane O'Neill, on whose head
Elizabeth set a price in the days when severe penalties were
enforced against w^andering bards and minstrels. Eocha the
Ninth, who reigned just before these changes took place,
was surnamed The Melancholy, perhaps from some faint
presentiment of the impending ruin of his country. In the
twelfth century there was an English Pope in Rome for the
first time and, it is to be hoped, for the last time. His name
was Nicholas Brakespeare, and he was called Pope Adrian.
He had the cool assurance to advise the Irish to submit to
English rule and to give permission to the latter to invade
Ireland. This w^as in the reign of Roderick O'Connor, the
last of the Irish kings. It was the fatal hour in which were
riveted the first links of tyranny's chain. It was then that
the conflict of the two races, the Celt and the Saxon, began,
which has lasted to this day, for an unfortunate affair
occurred in Ireland which paved the way for usurpation and
overthrow. It was the old story, and one only needs to say,
with the venerable Pope, " Cherchez la femme!" Derfor-
'guill, daughter of the Prince of Meath, was forced into a
hated marriage with the Prince of Bref ny. She was in love
with Dermod, son of the old king of Leinster, and fled with
him during her husband's absence. This false fair one
brought destruction to Erin, as Helen did to Troy, as
Cleopatra did to the Roman Empire. Dermod fled to Eng
land and threw himself on the protection of Henry the
Second, the father of Coeur de Lion, while the betrayed
Lord of Brefny was defended by Roderick, Ireland's king.
It was this disastrous adventure of love, coupled with

36 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
the fact that the island was torn by internal dissensions,
which caused a French historian to say : " The source of the
destruction of Ireland can be discovered within her own
bosom." Moore, in a touching ballad, tells the husband's
feelings as he finds himself forsaken :
" I flew to her chamber, 'twas lonely,
As if the loved tenant lay dead ;
Ah, would it were death, and death only !
But no, the young false one had fled."
Earl Strongbow, an English outlaw, was sent over to
Ireland to live, and he married the king of Leinster's daugh
ter, in order to strengthen the unholy alliance of jealousy.
King Henry visited Ireland in 1 173, and Roderick, compelled
to yield, met him on the banks of the Shannon. Finally a
treaty was signed, by which the English king received
tribute as lord of Ireland, though Roderick retained the title
of monarch as before, with the control of the four pro
vincial kings. However, the rebellion of Henry's sons and
the martyrdom of Thomas a Becket arrested his contem
plated tyranny, and it was not until Henry the Eighth
ascended the throne that the title of King of Ireland -was
assumed by England's king. Roderick O'Connor retired,
wearied with wars and trials, to an Abbey, where he died at
an advanced age. Thus ended more than two-thousand
years of absolute monarchy in Ireland, and thus began the
despotism which was her doom. Begun in crime, continued
in crime, steeped in innocent blood, has been the chain which
bound the Harp of Erin to the Dragon of St. George.
The Church of England has certainly no reason to be
proud of the founder of the so-called Reformation. Henry
the Eighth of England but wished to change his religion in
order to change his wives. But from that time to the
present, through all persecutions and trials, no race has been
more loyal to their religious faith than the Catholics of
Ireland. After he had announced allegiance to the Church
of Rome, Henry became cruel alike to Catholics and
Protestants. The great house of Kildare, being powerful
in Parliament, was almost exterminated, five of the Earls of
the family being executed at the tower on a mere pretense.
They were of the ancient English of Ireland, who had
settled there in the time of Henry the Second, and had, as
their enemies said, become " more Irish than the Irish them-

ERIN. 37
selves." In time they, too, were rooted out from the noble
estates they had once confiscated. No one who had Ire
land's interests at heart could be allowed to live. The
daughter of the cruel Henry and the false Anne Boleyn, who
usurped the place of the rightful queen, the good Catharine
of Arragon, could scarcely be other than totally depraved.
Elizabeth, the great Virgin Queen, had no true title to the
throne. Mary Queen of Scots was the rightful heir, as her
grandmother, Margaret of Scotland, was the sister of King
Henry the Eighth. However, in the forty-five years of her
despotic sway, she put many a good Catholic to the rack,
and the best historian said: "It was enough to be an Irish
man to be persecuted, and a Catholic to be crucified" during
her reign.
While her evil star ruled in England, a bright and
dazzling one arose in Ireland. It was that of Hugh O'Neill,
Earl of Tyrone, who waged a fifteen years' war for his
country and his religion, which only ceased with the life of
the Queen. He is one of Erin's favorite heroes, but he
sleeps under Italian skies, far from the dear land for which
he so nobly fought. He went to England at once on the
accession of James the First, who gave hiih back the
rank and estate taken when Elizabeth had proclaimed
him a rebel. Ireland willingly proffered allegiance to
this prince, as the ancient Irish called him their king on
account of his Milesian descent; and the modern Irish,
that is, the English colony in Ireland, know that he was
the true heir to the English crown, as his mother had been.
Therefore, Ireland was then for the first time thoroughly
and generally under English rule. Never was trust more
contemptibly betrayed. James the First was a weak tyrant
of most detestable memory. He continued the oppression
and refused to Catholics education and the protection of the
laws. All these things were, fast reducing the Irish to a
state of barbarism, and any other race in the world but this
courageous and indomitable one would have sunk forever.
But ever and anon arose some bright Hght to gild for a
while tyranny's night. The Earl of Tyrone soon felt the
falsehood of the iing, for his estates were again taken from
him, to be given to some of the English who wished to
settle in Ireland, and he was forced to spend his last days in
France and Rome.

38 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Thus did England make it impossible for the great men
to stay in their own dearly beloved country. In vain it was
to fight, to hope, to spend their fortunes and their lives.
There was left no alternative but exile, or starvation, or
ignominious death. In the reign of Charles the First the
religious wars in England were felt in Ireland; and the
Protestants, wishing to get possession of the best estates, as
there was no law to protect Catholics in their rights, kept up
the struggle which ended in the murder of the sovereign.
A kingdom calmly looked on at this regicide, and the mur
derers swept and owned the country. One of the many
dark pages in England's chronicles is the story of King
Charles, of the ill-starred Stuart race. He was a martyr to
his kindness, or, rather, to his lack of ferocity, for monsters
suited those terrible times. The rule of the fearful Crom
well, even yet spoken of in whispers of terror, for he was
justly deemed a veritable demon, now devastated the stricken
country. " The Curse of Cromwell be upon you " was the
most terrible malediction the poor Irish could utter to their
foes. The axe fell alike on the ancient Irish and the ancietit
English of Ireland, called the " English of the Pale," mean
ing those who lived in a certain part of the island appropri
ated in the time of Henry the Second; but, as they -were
principally Catholics, they were now under the ban of
extermination. The Cromwellian Settlement was planned with the object
of forcing away from Ireland all those of noble birth, high
station, or land-owners of all degrees. They wished to
keep only the peasantry to toil for them. The first move
was to banish the brave soldiers. The fame of Irish fighting
had gone abroad, and forty-thousand gallant men, officers
and all, were sent to Spain. If they had families, they could
not take them with them, as their property was seized. The
cruelty was unspeakable, Many orphaned children were
sent to serve the English planters in the West Indies. The
very poor, the aged and the broken-hearted were trans
planted to the bleak wilds of Connaught, while the homes
and lands of both ancient Irish and ancient English were
seized by the new English conquerors. Desolation inde
scribable reigned in the poor, distracted, unhappy isle. The
courage and the genius were sent to benefit strangers. Well
did their enemies appreciate that Ireland's loss was their
gain, for even the Prince of Orange said that the Irish were

ERIN. . 39
born soldiers, and Henry the Fourth of France, Henry of
Navarre, said that " Hugh O'Neill, Earl of Tyrone, was the
third soldier of his age," meaning himself to be the first, and
the illustrious Count de Fuentes the second.
Mournful it is, even now, to fancy the bitter thoughts of
those brave men as they marched away from the beloved
shores they were destined nevermore to see, while the pipes
played the heart-breaking air « Ha til. Ha til. Ha til, mi
tulidh," " We return, we return, we return no more." And
twice again the English trumpet blew to warn the people
that death awaited those who lingered on the Shannon's
banks beyond the allotted day. The reasons for banishing
the nobility and gentry and allowing the peasantry to stay
are given in the English chronicles of the time: "First,
they are useful to the English as earth-tillers and herdsmen;
secondly, deprived of their priests and gentry, and living
among the English, it is hoped they will become Protestants;
and, thirdly, the gentry without their aid must work for
themselves and their families, or, if they don't, must die, and
if they do, will in time turn into common peasants." Does
not this clearly show the determination to reduce the Irish to
barbarians ?
In the meantime, while during the winter season the poor
people were being moved from their homes, it mattered not
whether ill or dying, the feeble babe and the aged grandsire,
prevented from even reaping -what they had sown, without
food or shelter, the pious commoners of Cromwell prayed
daily to God, with strong crying and tears, that they might
receive divine strength and aid in their work of destruction.
By the new laws they were required to drop the " Mac "
and " O," which told in the Irish language that they were
the children of somebody, and to take only English names.
They must, if they were allowed to read at all, give up their
religion and their very names, and thank God for the priv
ilege! Is it strange that, when America opened her gates,
they fled from such " privilege" ? Or, rather, is it not strange
that a spark of the fire of genius remains in the descendants
of a people so oppressed ? But this, though fearful, was the
beginning only, for long years of duplicity and tyranny were
to follow. It was in the dreadful Cromwell's day that a
reward was offered for three things. Here is the proclama
tion : " We have three beasts to destroy, that lay burthens
upon us. The first is the wolf, on whom we lay five pounds.

40 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
The second beast is a priest, on whose head we lay ten
pounds; if he be eminent, more. The third beast is a Tory,
on whose head, if he be a public Tory, we lay twenty
pounds; and forty shillings on a private Tory."
Says Prendcrgast: "The wolves had indeed become so
numerous that the bodies of wandering orphans, whose
fathers had been banished to Spain, and whose mothers had
perished of famine, were devoured by them in the streets."
On the desolate fields nor fire, nor light, was seen at night,
and the wolf shared with his English brothers, the
fiercer wolves, the sole possession of the ruined country. It
is well known that Ireland is celebrated for her -wolf-dogs
and hunting-dogs of all degrees; her hawks and hounds are
prized by kings and have been presented to noted monarchs
of later time. From the days of Elizabeth it was against the
law to say Mass. The penalty thereof was death. Crom
well issued a manifesto of the same kind. But the Catholic
priesthood of Ireland, those noble soldiers enlisted under the
banner of a crucified King, in order to give the people the
benefits of their loved religion, dearer than ever in the sight
of death and danger, fled to caves and mountain wilds to offer
the sacrifice of the Mass. Often a ruined chapel, or the dis
tant cabin of a lowly friend, was the scene of this devotion.
The wave- worn coast of Arran was the retreat of many in
the last days of the Cromwellian Settlement. The law of
revenge or compensation was now illustrated, for the Eng
lish of Ireland, those of the Pale, were no-w forced to suffer
the same injuries they had dealt out to the ancient Irish in the
time of Henry the Eighth. And it was from their own race,
too. Charles the Second succeeded this " Scourge of God."
His exile had only made him too ready to accept any terms
by which he could keep his life and his crown. He be
trayed nearly all the trusts and promises of both his father
and himself, and actually rewarded the regicides. He
allowed the constant and bitter persecution of the Irish royal
ists, and truly seemed to live for pleasure alone, and
her siren song seemed to lull his better nature to sleep.
His reign illustrates the old truth that to be too sure -
of one's friends and to reward enemies is contrary to justice
•ind fatal to success. His brother, James the Second, who
succeeded him, was a martyr to religion and a victim to
ingrfititude. Vainly did he attempt to be the champion of

ERIN. 41
freedom of conscience, as his pathetic farewell attests, the
paper he signed when the Prince of Orange and his wife,
the false daughter, sent him into exile from the kingdom he
would have ruled without bloodshed.
During the reign of the detestable Prince of Orange no
Irish Catholic was allowed to be educated for any profes
sion, or to vote, not even if married to a Papist. So the best
and brightest were forced to fly to other lands, preferring
exile to slavery at home. When the aristocrats were thus
compelled to depart, of course that left principally the peas
antry. Hence the absurd and ignorant objections of those
who, for some yet undiscovered reason, styled themselves the
" only Americans," or perhaps the title they once proudly
assumed, that of Know-Nothings, would be better, to the
Irish and their descendants even, forgetting, or mayhap not
even knowing, in their dense ignorance of history, that the
flower of the Irish race went to France and Spain, and did
not come here to America to enter domestic service. 'Twas
from slavery they fled! Of course there were occasionally
offshoots of some noble stock who came, by fate or circum
stances, to this kind and hospitable land, but, when seen, they
were felt, and known, and admired, more than any other race
in the world. For who shall eclipse in eloquence or bravery
an O'Connell or a Burke? Who should claim or hope more
than the son of an Emmet or a Grattan?
Not only did William the Third persecute the Irish be
cause of their religion, but he was further embittered towards
them by the fact that they did 'not recognize him as their
king, but remained loyal to King James. The beginning of
his supremacy dated from the day "when vanquished Erin
wept beside the Boyne's ill-fated river." The two anniver
saries of the first and twelfth of July, celebrating the vic
tories of Boyne and Aughrim, are held by the Orangemen
still everywhere with all the venom and cruelty of old. Had
James, who, to use his own words, was the very sport of
fortune, but listened to the advice of the great General Sars-
field, one of Ireland's noblest heroes, on the day of the Battle
of the Boyne, the usurper would never have triumphed.
But history and individual lives are full of the " ifs." "God
help me ! " cried the unhappy king, as he embarked from
that fated shore, "My own children have forsaken me!"
Those who criticize his course in flying to the protection of
King Louis of France should remember that he had reason

42 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
to fear the fate of his father, who had said with much good
cause : " There is little distance between the prison and the
grave of a prince." Sarsfield did not wholly yield to despair,
but made some further efforts to serve his country after the
departure of the king. In this he was aided by the Raf-
farees, the last of the Tories, who had been driven over the
quaking bogs into the mountains. Strange apparitions they
must have seemed, as they emerged at some signal from the
lone caves, wild, wan, and yet defiant!
At this time the awful desolation caused by Cromwell still
reigned supreme. There was silence over all, saveihe scream
of the sea-gull, and the raven's cry, and the plaintive voice of
the water-fall in some lonely glen. Mournful must have
looked the wild, beautiful scenery of the Emerald Isle.
These were the last days of some of the old customs of the
persecuted people. One by one all the charms of life were
broken and torn from them. " The harper, with his rhymes
and chimes of times long past away," must go with all the
rest that made home charming and life sweet to the doomed
race. Prendergast, in his Cromwellian Settlement, says:
"The harp was silenced in Britain by the Saxons; heard only
in Wales; it retires with the advance of English power in
Ireland, and after the Battle of the Boyne is heard only in
Connaught." All these historic characters, who figured in
that day, are finely delineated by the Irish novelist, John
Banim, one of the O'Hara's, in his romance of " The Boyne
Water." He makes you feel as though yoM really saw and
talked with the banished king, around whose form he throws
a mournful luster, and with brave Sarsfield, and the -wdld
Raffarees, and the wicked Prince of Orange, too, from whom
that hateful color and emblem came ever since that unhappy
day! You can see in fancy's e3'e the ruined Abbeys, the
castles, the streams, the wild mountains and the slippery bog,
unsafe to all but the reckless and the hunted; you can even
hear the murmur of the river or the sullen roar of the sea as
it thunders on the shores of the heart-broken " Island of the
Betrayed." The faithful priest, the Soggarth Aroon, risking
life to administer the sacred rites of the Church, the long
buried patriots, heroes, harpers and bards all throng fast
through Memory's halls, and recall to their children their
deathless devotion to the cause of their lovely, wild, romantic
land. Carolan, the famous blind bard of Erin, was living
then, and sung in lament of the lost cause. But passing

ERIN. 43
away were the times when harps were in every hall, and the
minstrel was the honored guest. No more should they sing
of Ireland's Golden Age, the reign of Brian Boru, who
perished at Clontarf. ' ' No more to lords and ladies bright
The Harp of Tara swells.
The chord alone that breaks at night
The tale of ruin tells."
" The Harp that Once Through Tara's Hall " commemo
rates one of the most terrible and far-reaching curses that
was ever pronounced. The curse was laid in 554, 1,335
years ago, and Irish politics has felt the influence of it ever
since. It was done in the reign of Dermid, who ^vas lapsing
back to active sympathy with the Druids, and who, unlike
his predecessors since St. Patrick's constitution had been
instituted, violated with impunity the immunities that instru
ment had patented to the tlergy. At last he committed a
most flagrant act by seizing a prisoner at the altar of Temple
Ruadan, county of Tipperarj-, dragging him from the pro
tection of the sacred precincts and putting the victim to death.
" St. Ruadan, the patron priest, was exasperated, and, gather
ing his immediate clergymen, journeyed to Tara. Marching
slowly three times around the royal rath, or king's palace,
-with awful solemnity, thev excommunicated the aggressive
monarch and chanted a malediction against the rath so terrible
that, -when, two years after, Dermid w^as slain by Black Hugh
of Ulster, the place was deserted and has never been occupied
since. It is said that his favorite bard clung to the halls for
years, and that, so thoroughly ostracised was the place that
his skeleton was found beside his faithful but broken harp by
a wandering bard, who visited the spot years after, having
fled from it in terror." This beautiful song of Moore:
" The harp, that once through Tara's halls
The soul of music shed.
Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls
As if that soul were fled.
So sleeps the pride of former days.
So glory's thrill is o'er.
And hearts, that once beat high for praise,
Now feel that pulse no more,"
was considered by Senator Roscoe Conkling to be the finest
of his Irish Melodies, and he repeated the verse I have

44 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
just quoted to me, in response to a remark of mine that the
Senate Chamber at Washington had echoed to no such voice
as his since he departed, and to the question I asked him, if
he cared to return to public life. Since then the harp is
mute, indeed, for Death its silver strings has broken, and thus
far no chords have sounded there to awake even a passing
thrill of romance or of interest. The tribute of genius has
been withheld, because undeserved. With Conkling and
Logan the picturesque, the romantic have passed away!
Money and chance success will never command the homage
of a people!
Following the Cromwellian Settlement there had been
what was called a Restoration Settlement, wherein some of
the ancient English, who had been then transplanted into
Connaught, received back their lands. Now after the Treaty
of Limerick came the Revolution Settlement. As most of
Ireland's troubles came through the disputed ownership of
lands, the story of these settlements, as well as the story of
the Penal Laws, is the story of the country. This treaty
was ruthlessly and cruelly broken, and the Forfeited Estates
Act, which followed it, ushered in the Penal Laws, which
made Irishmen slaves. Never were la-ws so execrable passed
or executed in any other land! Once more the lands were
wrested away and given to the new conquerors. Every kind
of oppression was resorted to in order to exterminate the
Irish Catholics. Bishops, priests and friars were banished
under penalty of death. Roman Catholics were prohibited
from education, from the practice of the bar oi* medicine, and
they were not allowed to vote, or to hold land, or even to
learn or practice trades. King William's broken treaty is a
matter of history, for he bound himself by Act of Parliament,
with his royal signature, to restore to the Catholics their
privileges and their lands, and there is not much to boast of
on the part of the Orangemen in their devotion to the
memory of such a chief. And yet, in this year, 1889, thirty-
thousand Orangemen assembled to witness the unveiling of
the statute of William the Usurper at Dublin. While this
homage to one of the worst oppressors of their country con
tinues, what can loyal hearts accomplish ?
Fletcher of Saltoun said that, if he could write the songs
of a nation, he cared not -who made the laws; and ballads,
so much the history of all countries, are especially so of
Ireland. So I will, as often as possible, let the bards speak

ERIN. 45
for themselves, "Loose the bards," said Cathmor, "they are
the sons of other times. Their voice shall be heard in other
ages, when the kings of Temora have failed." Thomas
Davis, who wrote such stirring poems for "The Nation" in
one of Ireland's saddest epochs, 1S44, just before the death of
Daniel O'Connell, and the awful shadows that followed, well
described the cruel "Penal Days":
" They bribed the flock, they bribed the son,
To sell the priest and rob the sire;
Their dogs were taught alike to run
IFpon the scent of wolf and friar.
Among the poor.
Or on the moor.
Were hid the pious and the true.
While traitor knave
And recreant slave
Had riches, rank and retinue ;
And, exiled in those penal days,
Our banners over Europe blaze.
Let all atone
For blood and groan,
For dark revenge and open wrong !
Let all unite
For Ireland's right,
And drown our griefs in freedom's song ! "
The Irish Brigade of France were called the Flower of
Chivalry. At Fontenoy they remembered Limerick. There
Sarsfield shone, and at Landen he fell. William of Orange
and his men were flying, but the heart's blood of the noble
Patrick Sarsfield, Earl of Lucan, was shed. As he beheld it
gushing on a foreign field, his last words were: "Oh, that
this were for Ireland!" But it was decreed that in Spanish,
Austrian and French legions our best should be.
" Sarsfield is dead, but no tears shed we.
For he died in the arms of Victory,
And his dying words shall edge the brand.
When we chase the foe from our native land ! ' '
A heroic nobleman, famous in Irish song and story, was
the O'Sullivan Beare, Earl of Bantry. His portrait might be
taken for that of a Spanish Hidalgo, the eyes and hair are of
such midnight blackness. And he, like O'Connell, wore the
Irish cloak, fastened with a jeweled clasp, which is one of the
articles in Irish costume similar to the unchanging fashion
which prevails in Spain, whose cavaliers are always repre
sented as wrapped in its graceful folds. He was banished to

46 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Spain by Queen Elizabeth, and his descendants are counts
there to this day. But, wherever they went, these men felt
always the sorrow that they were exiles from Erin.
Queen Anne's reign was a cruel one for Ireland. Not
satisfied with the then existing Penal Laws, she passed at
once an Act of Parliament to prevent the further increase of
Popery, which intensified the horrors of those already in
force. This was the day of Sir Robert Walpole as Prime
Minister, who is celebrated for saying " Every man has his
price," Queen Anne was the last and, perhaps, the worst of
the Stuarts, All through her time the Protestants were
terribly afraid of the restoration of her brother, "the Pre
tender," as he was called, though of course the true heir to
the throne. But he was a Papist, the worst objection in the
world, Thackeray introduces him in a romantic, though
scarcely flattering way, in his superb novel of "Esmond,"
This great novelist seemed indeed to see kings divested of
that divinity so long suffered to hedge them. But in the
Georges the most abject of royalists could have seen nothing
to admire. Idiots though they were, they still knew how to
oppress and persecute. From the time of Ireland's first
invasion by Henry the Second, it was not the Irish who -were
treacherous to the English, it was the English themselves
who followed every one of their coronations with plots or
regicide. It was civil war. The murderers of princes and
kings were Englishmen, and not Irishmen. From that date
the English colonists brought over by Strongbow were said
to be " more Irish than the Irish themselves," and certainly
they were quite as bitter in their hatred of the English of
England, who were sent over to "transplant" them, even. as
they had once invaded the possessions of others. They were
then called "the degenerate English of the Pale," that being
the name of the special province in Ireland where they were
supposed to keep by themselves, and always forbidden, under
horrible penalties, to love or marry the Irish women, pr
imitate them in any of their national customs. But love
smiles at laws and fears not the wrath of kings. The lovely
maids of Erin proved then, as ever, too enticing for even
cold English hearts to resist, and to love of home and fair
lands were soon added the ties of wife and child. The Irish
harp was soon found in every English hall, and its s-weet,
though long forbidden, strains melted the ice forever from
the hearts of the once stern invaders. The rude hands of

ERIN. 47
Henry the Eighth and his cruel daughter would fain have
silenced the minstrel's strain ; they would not allow gold to
be coined in Ireland, as it was stamped with the harp, so
hated. The greatest of the Irish-English were the Earls of
Kildare and Desmond, who sprang from the noble Saxon
family of the Geralds or Geraldines. Gerald, Earl of Des
mond, was beheaded by the order of Elizabeth, and his head
was sent to London at her special request and impaled on
London Bridge, for no other reason than the fact that he
shrank from the cruelty of torturing the Irish people among
whom his lot was cast. Their lives were praised in song, as
they had married daughters of the Emerald Isle, and had
become as one -with them in all ways and customs. Their
names are still a standard for all that is brave and true.
" The Geraldines! the Geraldines ! 'Tis true, in Strongbow's van
By lawless force, as conquerors, their Irish race began;
But noble was the cheer within the halls so rudely won.
And generous was the steel-gloved hand that had such slaughter done !
How gay their laugh, how proud their mien ! You'd ask no herald's sign.
Among a thousand you had known the princely Geraldine !
The English monarchs strove in vain, by law, and force, and bribe,
To win from Irish thoughts and ways this "more than Irish " tribe,
F"or still they cling to fosterage, to brehon cloak and bard !
What king dare say to Geraldine, " Your Irish wife discard " ?
The foregoing is an extract from one of the stirring poems
written by Thomas Davis, who seemed inspired for these
national songs, and the following is from a ballad sung by a
young Irish Chieftain to the fair English girl he wooed and
won:
" But sure, I see her in my dreams,
With eyes where love's first dawning beams;
And tones, like Irish music, say :
' You ask to love me, and you may.'
And so I know she will be mine.
That rose of princely Geraldine.
With all the raging Pale behind.
So sweet, so strange a foe to find !
Soft love to plant where terror sprung.
With honey speech of Irish tongue !
She's proud Clan Connell's Queen, and mine.
Young Geraldine of Geraldine."
The year 1782 was a great year in Irish history, for then
she achieved, through the efforts of Grattan, Flood, Burgh
and others, a Free Parliament. The sublime achievement of

48 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
American Independence had aroused the spirit of poor do^^'n-
trodden Ireland, and thus came the association of the brave
and glorious Volunteers. This heroic band, without pa}-,
and almost ^vithout means, inspired In- the hope of their
countrv's freedom, met at the since historic church of Dun-
gannon and formed those resolutions which forced the British
Parliament to repeal the hated Poyning's law, and other still
more despotic ones added by the Georges, making Irish
Parliament useless, and to mitigate somewhat the horrors of
the Penal Laws. But England, while she gave with one
hand, ever took away with the other, and in the bud of hope
offered to a despairing people she had dropped the poison of
deceit. Brief, though bright, was Erin's dream of liberty.
Even these slight concessions caused in London the No-
Popery Riots, described by Charles Dickens in his story of
Barnaby Rudge The Protestants, "Wreckers" and"Peep-
of-day boys" of those times are the Orangemen of to-day,
and it is well known that they have raised riots and burned
churches and convents in the United States. The brilliant
men of that epoch in Irish history -were possessed of strangely
different minds and temperaments. The Earl of Charlemont,
to whom had been entrusted the command of Volunteers,
was too cautious, too cold and too bigoted to serve his country
well. Hussey Burgh was one of the best and truest of her
champions. The life of Henry Grattan, though brilliant, was
full of sorrow, for his day of glory was followed by calumny
and illness, and his final appearance in the halls of Parliament
was but that of a deep mourner over the grave of his
country. In order to escape English oppression, some Presbyterians
from Ulster, the north of Ireland, went to America and
struggled with the Colonies for independence. The fathers
of Andrew Jackson, of John C. Calhoun and of James
Buchanan helped to destroy in the new land that tyranny
which forced them to leave their Irish home. Yet how
strange that, even there in exile, they could not unite and
make a common cause with the Roman Catholics who had
suffered so much more bitterly from the same cause! But
the Protestants hated the Papists, as they do still ; if this had
not been so, they could, if united, have beaten the common
foe, and Ireland would have been independent. In the new
country they, in their turn, persecuted the Papists as cruelly
as they had ever been persecuted, and the progress of civiliza-

ERIN. 49
tion has not eveiT yef wiped out the stupid prejudice, the
wicked malice of the heretic towards the Romanist. Yet
the day will dawn when the people will blush for this
bigotry, as they now do for the memory of slavery.
Sir Jonah Barrington, in his "Rise and Fall of the Irish
Nation," meaning the Free Parliament to be the " Rise," and
the Union of 1800 to be the "Fall," says that the two able
English Ministers of the day, Pitt and Fox, were "men who
simply wished to rise and rule. Irish woes and rights were
to them an abstract consideration." And both he and
Mitchel agree that Pitt caused by his duplicity the great
insurrection of '98. The object was to destroy the power of
the people by forcing them to act prematurely, goaded on by
tortures and tyranny. Some poet has said of Ireland, in
prophetic spirit:
" Woe worth the day when to falsehood or fears
She surrenders the guns of her brave Volunteers."
Alas! Through the dissensions of leaders, that day did come,
for jealousy -will overthrow the fairest fabric of human
designing. The Volunteers faded from the scene, but their
memory, like a vision of heroic devotion and undying
courage, can not fade, and the spirit of that gallant army but
entered into a new form, after all, the famous "United
Irishmen." This would soon have embraced both Catholic
and Protestant, but England always wrought against Union
in Ireland, and set loose, by plots of the worst description.
Anarchy instead! Many names of undying luster meet us
on the historic annals of those sad days. Lord Edward
Fitzgerald, Curran and Grattan, and, clearer and lovelier
than all, the immortal one of Theobald Wolfe Tone, founder
and leader of the "United Irishmen." A Protestant without
prejudice, a patriot without selfishness, a martyr to the land
he loved, Ireland can boast no prouder name than his, and
England can have no stain of infamy on her cruel record
darker than that of his dastardly murder. He had early
made up his mind that Ireland must have help from some
friendly outside power. Naturally, his eyes turned towards
France, which was called "The Champion of Liberty," as
England was of Slavery. He received aid and sympathy
there, but the very elements seemed to conspire against him,
and the great Bantry Bay expedition, of which the gallant
General Hoche was commander, was driven away by the

50 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
hostile winds. Byron, in his letters, after visiting the tomb
of Hoche, says: "He was the destined commander of the
invading Army of Ireland. He was esteemed among the
first of France's earlier Generals before Bonaparte monopo
lized her triumphs." His monument is at Andernach.
Tone, on his return to Ireland, was basely betrayed by an
Englishman, a former college companion, Sir George Hill,
while dining with friends of both. He was put in chains
and dragged ignominiously away. This base treatment was
given to the best and brightest of that time. When he
appeared in court his parting speech, so beautiful that it
melted even the stern hearts of some of his enemies, was only
allowed to be partially heard. All that proved the pro
ceedings against him to be unwarranted was carefully
suppressed. While seeking the aid of the French for Ire
land, he had for some time been an officer in the French
Army, and was not at all under English rule. Moreover,
he was, from his French commission and uniform, entitled
to the consideration of a foe. When he had enumerated the
sacrifices of a life and the trials so willingly undergone for
his beloved and unfortunate country, he said : " After a
combat nobly maintained, a combat which -would have ex
acted the respect and sympathy of a generous enemy, my
fate was to become a prisoner. To the eternal disgrace of
those who gave the order, I am brought hither in irons, like
a felon. I mention this for the sake of others; for me, I am
indifferent to it. I am aware of the fate which awaits me,
and scorn equally the tone of complaint and that of supplica
tion. From my earliest youth I have regarded the connec
tion between Ireland and Great Britain as the curse of the
Irish Nation, and felt convinced that, while it lasted, this
country could never be free and happy. In consequence, I
determined to apply all the powers which my individual
efforts could move, in order to separate the two countries. I
repeat that all that has been imputed to me, words, writings
and actions, I here deliberately avow. I have spoken and
acted with refiection, and am ready to meet the conse
quences. Whatever be the sentence of this Court, I am
prepared for it. But I wish to offer a few words relative to
one single point, to the mode of punishment. In France,
our emigres, who stand nearly in the same situation in which
I suppose I now stand before you, are condemned to be shot.
I ask that the Court should adjudge me the death of a sol-

ERIN.

51

dier, and let me be shot by a platoon of grenadiers. I
request this indulgence, rather in consideration of the uni
form which I wear, the uniform of a Chef de Brigade in the
French Army, than from any personal regard to myself."
Lord Cornwallis refused the last demand of the prisoner,
and he was sentenced to die the death of a traitor, in forty-
eight hours, on the 12th of November. This cruelty he had
foreseen, for England, from the days of Llewellyn of
Wales and Wallace of Scotland to those of Tone and Napo
leon, has never shown mercy or generosity to a fallen enemy.
He then, in perfect coolness and self-possession, determined
to execute his purpose and anticipated their sentence. Every
one knew the sentence to be an unlawful one, but fear
seemed to have paralyzed the people. One friend came to
the rescue, John Curran, and vainly tried to stay the cruel
procee.dings. But the noble young hero, after a most touch
ing adieu to his adored wife and children, disappointed his
murderers by taking his life into his own hands. In the sol
itude of the dungeon this pure spirit took its flight.
' ' There is a world where souls are free,
Where tyrants taint not nature's bliss ;
If death that world's bright opening be,
Oh ! who would live a slave in this ? "
It was the younger Pitt who planned the persecutions
which were intended to result in the union of Ireland with
England. His great mind might have been employed to
nobler purpose than to plot the ruin of a suffering nation.
It is said that he possessed even more ability than his father,
the celebrated Earl of Chatham, and certainly he evinced
marvelous duplicity, and all the finesse of a Richelieu in
feigning illness at times to evade the storms he had invoked.
Napoleon was too overpowering for him, however, and his
somewhat premature death, at the age of forty-six, is attrib
uted to grief at the victory of Austerlitz. He was not so
fine an orator as his father, the Earl of Chatham, whose
brilliant orations on the subject of unjust taxation in the
American Colonies are familiar to every school-boy. But
the voice which uttered the ringing words, " If I were an
American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop
remained in my country, I never would lay down my
arms! Never! Never! Never!" was not, in the long years
in which he presided over England's councils, once heard in
defense of the rights of Ireland! For them the cruel Penal

52 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Laws, when, after all rights of manhood and of religion
were taken away, they were deprived of arms for necessary
defense, or even for the chase; disabled from being so much as
game-keepers, lest any of them should learn the use of fire
arms. While it is plainly to be seen that indifference to Ire
land's sufferings and a consuming desire for England's glory
marked the era of Chatham, the elder Pitt, it is but fair to
state that there is a great difference of opinion in regard to
the character and motives of the still more illustrious son of
the illustrious father. English historians, as a matter of
course, credit him with the highest honor. Macaulay, in his
matchless essays, seems positively to believe that William
Pitt was so sincere in the promise he made to the Roman
Catholics, that, on his failure to obtain the consent of the
imbecile king to redeem the pledges by which the union had
been brought about, he resigned from the Ministry. The
friends of Ireland are not able to read this, in the light of
events past or present, and it seems only clear in regard to
these great men, that they wrought for their own country,
regardless of the tyranny practiced on others. The Right
Honorable William Pitt had three able coadjutors in tramp
ling on the Irish. They were the notorious " three C's,"
Camden, Clare and Castlereagh. Byron, in his scathing
sarcasm on the latter, has given him to eternal infamy ; for
this betrayer of his country was an Irishman born in the
lovely land he sold:
" Without one single ray of her genius, without
The fancy, the manhood, the fire of her race.
The miscreant, who well might plunge Erin in doubt
If she ever gave birth to a being so base !
" If she did, let her long-boasted proverb be hush'd.
Which proclaims that from Erin no reptile can spring !
See the cold-blooded serpent, with venom full flushed.
Still warming its folds in the breast of a king ! "
To my mind, at least, one strong proof that the younger
Pitt was a cruel man was the way he treated the poets of
his time. He allowed Gibbon to leave the country, and in
bitter penury to write his glorious histor}' in a kindlier clime.
Poor Johnson begged in vain from the Government, which
Pitt then controlled, a paltry pittance to enable him to pass
his last days without suffering; And even the gentle Cow-
per, who has given us the most pleasing eulogy on the Earl
of Chatham, the Premier's own father, was, for aught he

ERIN. 53
cared, left to starve or to go mad under the persecutions of
creditors. Artists and sculptors fared just as badly. In the
meantime, while genius pleaded for bread, even in England,
and famine reigned in Ireland, the Prime Minister himself
lived in a state of more than regal splendor. Like his
father, he disdained all thought of economy, and no writer,
even the most partial, claims that either of them possessed
the slightest financial ability. The grateful Government
paid their enormous debt and settled a handsome income on
the descendants of the elder, the younger never having mar
ried. England was his only love. His last words are said
to have been " Oh, my country!" For his last days were
embittered by a power greater than his own, greater than
any that had. arisen in Europe. The overwhelming star of
Napoleon caused all lesser ones to sink into eclipse. Wil-
berforce, the intimate friend of Pitt, said that a few weeks
before his death he had " the Austerlitz look." It was the
impress of death. However, it is a well-known fact that his
death -was caused by the excessive use of stimulants. He had
begun in childhood to take port wine under the advice of his
physician, and the habit increased with years. It seems strange
that this is never brought against him, nor ever was at any
time used by his enemies, while in the case of Byron the
same thing was one of the causes which ostracised him from
his native land. Byron's debts, too, were used against him,
as though he was the only debtor in the world, and personal
immorality, passed over in the princes and in many others
high in Church and State, became in him the blackest of
crimes. No youthful error was forgiven to him who had
but the day before been the idol of London society. I re
member Senator Conkling's saying that why one man could
do things with impunity that another was killed for doing,
was one of the mysteries he had never been able to fathom.
People do not object to the fault or weakness in itself, but
only to the person who commits it, if he happens to arouse
their jealousy.
Macaulay, the best biographer of the two Pitts, says of the
father that he was "the idol of England, the terror of
France, and the admiration of the whole civilized world,"
and of the son that he was " the greatest master of the whole
art of parliamentary government that has ever existed."
But to me, all this grandeur of lofty names, uncorrupted by
bribery in their own persons, dying in debt, though handling

54 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
millions, is now sadly dimmed by the reflection that they
might have spared Ireland her brave sons' blood, her or
phans' tears, her ruined cottages and her desecrated altars.
Their names may shine, but one can not see them when one
weeps. For only five years Ireland had enjoyed her own
Parliament, and now " her faithless sons " listened to the
false promises made by Castlereagh, that all oppressions of
the Roman Catholics would cease forever when the union
of Ireland with England should be consummated. Far bet
ter that the " Emerald Gem " had sunk beneath Atlantic's
waves than to be "set in the crown of a stranger." On the
Black List given by Sir Jonah Barrington can be found the
names of the false ones. Mitchel says: "The expenses of
provoking the insurrection, then in crushing it, the cost of
the English soldiers in Ireland, the bribes to informers, the
purchase money of members of Parliament, all were charged
to Irish account."
Daniel O'Connell said it was strange that Ireland was not
afterwards made to pay for the knife with which Lord
Castlereagh, twenty years later, cut his own throat. Grattan
and Curran had seceded three years before, in 1797, in de
spair of ever accomplishing their design, but, strangely
enough, Grattan, though almost dying, was re-elected and
brought back at midnight, as if to hear the dirge of Free
dom. As, heart-broken, he listened to the funeral tones, he
still hoped. His last words then were: " Yet do I not give
up my country. I see her in a swoon, but she is not dead.
Though in her tomb she lies helpless and motionless, still
there is on her lips a spirit of life, and on her cheek a glow
of beauty! Thou art not conquered; beauty's ensign yet is
crimson on thy lips and in thy cheek, and death's pale flag is
not advanced there!" It is strange that William Pitt, the
great Premier, as he calmly looked on at the vanquishing of
the sister isle, should have forgotten that it was the native
land of his mother, for Lady Harriet Villiers, Countess of
Chatham, was an Irish woman.
If Home Rule should now be accomplished through the
efforts of the uncrowned king, Parnell, and the greatest
premier England ever has known, Gladstone, then would
the sad words of the glorious Grattan be recalled, and the
mournful form of Erin arise in all her beauty, which tears
and wars have still not dimmed, and shine again resplendent
and free! This sad time, in which the chains were riveted

ERIN. 55
more firmly than ever on a doomed and bleeding country,
was, after all, memorable and glorious, in some things, as we
look backward o'er the troubled tide of the years. The
spirit of liberty was abroad, albeit she did but mock poor Ire
land with bright hopes destined to wither. Ere long she
spoke in the voice of her great son, Daniel O'Connell, the
Liberator, in tones which shall re-echo through all the ages
for the repeal of the hated union. When I think that this
great man then trod the earth, and I picture his imperial form
robed in the Irish cloak, proudly wearing the emblem of the
green, even having his coach and the livery of his people of
the national color, when I think of the eloquence that sum
moned thousands to the magic sound of his voice, until the
halls of Tara and the ancient castles shook with the thunders
of applause, I do not wonder that the vanished dreams re
turned of peace and glory to the proud race who would
gladly have hailed him as their king. And Napoleon lived
then, and Byron, and Moore! Strange coincidence, that
such gems on Erin's crown should shine together, O'Connell
to spend years of toil to snap the chains of slavery, and
Moore to wake those thrilling strains that will never die
away, but echo sweetly and sadly in every heart through
which courses one drop of Irish blood ! Then rose, too, the
melancholy star of young Robert Emmet, so soon to set
in despair. His last speech, just before his execution, in Sep
tember, 1805, has never been and will never be excelled in
pathos and bravery. No country on earth ever held a purer
patriot, a more courageous martyr. Though I have read it
many times since early childhood, I can never hear or see it
without burning indignation and horror of the fearful tyrants
of England who were his cruel executioners. What can
wash away this blot on the escutcheon of England? What
proud success on land or sea could efface its execrable mem
ory? Cold indeed must be the being who can bear to think
¦without rage on the brutality of the judges who continually
interrupted those inspired parting words because they thirsted
for his innocent blood. I here give a few favorite sentences,
and I hope and believe the whole speech is as sacred to Irish
men as the lives of any other of their saints, though the ora
tor wore no cowl or priestly robe:
" A man in my situation, my lords, has not only .to encoun
ter the difficulties of fortune and the force of power over
minds which it has corrupted or subjugated, but the difficul-

56 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
ties of established prejudice. The man dies, but his memory
lives. That mine may not,perish, that it may live in the re
spect of my countrymen, I seize upon this opportunity to
vindicate myself from some of the charges alleged against
me. When my spirit shall be wafted to a more friendly
port, when my shade shall have joined the bands of those
ma*Tyred heroes who have shed their blood on the scaffold
and in the field, in defense of their country and of virtue, this
is my hope. I wish that my memory and name may ani
mate those who survive me, while I look down w^ith com
placency on the destruction of that perfidious government
which upholds its domination by blasphemy of the Most
High; which displays its power over man as over the beasts
of the forest; which sets man upon his brother and lifts his
hand in the name of God against the throat of his fellow,
who believes or doubts a little more or a little less than the
government standard ; a government which is steeled to bar
barity by the cries of the orphans and the tears of the
widows which it has made."
At this point he was interrupted by Lord Norbury.
The closing words of this sorrowful speech inspired one of
Moore's saddest melodies, " O, breathe not his name." They
are at once a dirge and a farewell, and, I think and hope,
also a prophecy. To the cruel judges who thirsted for his
blood and longed to silence his eloquent tongue, he said:
" Be yet patient! I have but a few words more to say! I am
going to my cold and silent grave; my lamp of life is nearly
extinguished; my race is run; the grave opens to receive me,
and I sink into its bosom ; I have but one request to ask at my
departure from this world, it is the charity of its silence!
* * * Let no man write my epitaph ; for, as no man
who knows my motives dare now vindicate them, let not prej
udice nor ignorance asperse them. Let them and me repose
in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed
until other times and other men can do justice to my charac
ter; when my country takes her place among the nations of
the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written.
I have done!"
The French Revolution, which took place a few years
before, in 1789, had always been called the "Reign of 'Ter
ror " for France, and surely the events succeeding the forced
and hated " Union " made a Reign of Terror for Ireland,
only in their case it was caused by the English tyrants and

ERIN. 57
not by the people. The Irish race, loving splendor and gay-
ety, proud of their nobility, their fine castles and their lovely
parks, saw with a mournful feeling their palaces deserted,
while the beauty and the wit once shining there went to
grace other scenes. All writers agree in saying that the
" absentee " lords, spending their wealth in foreign lands and
allowing their unfortunate peasantry to be oppressed at
home, have helped in no small degree to enchain their coun
try. The palace of the Duke of Leinster, which was the
model for our White House at Washington, is no-w a mu
seum of natural history. The noblest men of England, in
point of intellect, always blushed for her treatment of Ire
land. Samuel Johnson said: "Do not unite with us, we
shall rob you." Junius, the mysterious letter-writer, whose
words blighted those on whom they fell, said: "Ireland has
been uniformly plundered and oppressed." The Rev. Sid
ney Smith, speaking in favor of the Catholic Emancipation
Bill, said: " I should not think a man brave, but mad, who
did not fear the treasons and rebellions in Ireland in time of
war. I should think him not dastardly, but consummately
wise, -who provided against them in time of peace. We
preach to our congregations, sir, that a tree is known by its
fruits. By the fruits it produces I will judge your system.
What has it done for Ireland? New Zealand is emerging.
Ireland is not emerging; she is still veiled in darkness; her
children, safe under no law, live in the very shadow of
death. Has your system of exclusion made Ireland rich?
Has it made Ireland loyal ? Has it made Ireland happy ?
How is the wealth of Ireland proved? Is it by the naked,
idle, suffering savages, who are slumbering on the mud floors
of their cabins? In what does the loyalty of Ireland con
sist? Is it in the eagerness with which they -would range
themselves under the hostile banner of an invader for your
destruction and for your distress? Is it liberty when men
breathe and move among the bayonets of English soldiers?
Is their happiness and their history anything but such a tis
sue of murders, burnings, hanging, famine and disease as
never existed in the annals of the world? Of the Catholic
Emancipation Bill I shall say that it will be the foundation-
stone of a lasting religious peace."
Yet the crippled and restricted way in which it was
passed, and the clauses added and the cruel acts passed,
afterwards worked in just the opposite direction hoped for

58 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
by the learned and benevolent divine. And "the greatest
Englishman of his time," according to Macaulay, and in fact,
not to be disputed by the entire world. Lord Byron, ^had
still earlier raised his voice in the House of Lords for the re
lief of a country he loved, and whose sons were his bosom
friends. I consider this speech of the noble poet made in
the pride of his young genius, for he was only twenty-four
years of age, though on the topmost height of earthly fame,
as the grandest offering ever yet presented to Erin, as the
rarest jewel ever placed on her mournful bro-w. Nothing
can dim the splendor of its shining, nor wars, nor blood,
nor tears. The voice of Childe Harold has long been silent,
and early the tomb closed over that peerless one, but dear to
Irish hearts forever is the proud consciousness that for Erin's
honor and Erin's fame the noblest voice of England rose in
heroic defense. How many who look through the pages of
the immortal bard for songs of love ever stop to read this
record of his great and sympathetic heart?
Debate on the Earl of Donoughmore's Motion
for a
CoMMiTTE on Roman Catholic Claims,
April 21, i8i3.
LoKD Byron: "My Lords: The question before the House
has been so frequently, fully and ably discussed, and never,
perhaps, more ably than on this night, that it would be
difficult to adduce new argument for or against it. But with
each discussion difficulties have been removed, objections have
been canvassed and refuted, and some of the former opponents
of Catholic emancipation have at length conceded the expe
diency of relieving the petitioners. In conceding thus much,
however, a new objection is started ; it is not the time, they
say, or it is an improper time, or there is time enough yet.
In some degree I concur with those who say it is not the
time exactly ; that time has passed ; better had it been for
the country that the Catholics possessed at this moment their
portion of our privileges, that their nobles held their due
weight in our councils, than that we should be assembled to
discuss their claims. It had indeed been better
' Non tempore tali
Cogere concillium cum muros obsidit hostis.'
The enemy is without, and distress within. It is too late to

ERIN. 59
cavil on doctrinal points, when we must unite in defense of
things more important than the mere ceremonies of religion.
It is, indeed, singular that we are called together to deliber
ate, not on the God we adore, for in that we are agreed ; not
about the King we obey, for to him we are loyal ; but how
for a difference in the ceremonials of worship, how for
believing not too little, but too much (the worst that can be
imputed to the Catholics), how far too much devotion to
their God may incapacitate our fellow-subjects from effect
ually serving their King. Much has been said, within and
without doors, of Church and of State, and although those
venerable -words have been often prostituted to the most
despicable of party purposes, we can not hear them too often ;
all, I presume, are the advocates of Church and State, the
Church of Christ, and the State of Great Britain ; but not a
state of exclusion and despotism ; not an intolerant church ;
not a church milit.ant ; -which renders itself liable to the very
objection urged against the Romish communion, and in a
greater degree, for the Catholic merely withholds its spiritual
benediction (and even that is doubtful), but our church, or
rather churchmen, not only refuse to the Catholic their
spiritual grace, but all tem^Joral blessings whatsoever. It
was an observation of the great Lord Peterborough, made
within these walls, or within the walls where the Lords then
assembled, thatiie was for a 'parliamentary king and a par
liamentary constitution, but not a parliamentary God and a
parliamentary religion.' The interval of a cientury has not
weakened the force of the remark. It is, indeed, time that
we should leave off these petty cavils on frivolous points,
these Lilliputian sophistries whether our ' eggs are best
broken at the broad or narrow end.' The opponents of the
Catholics may be divided into two classes : those who assert
that the Catholics have too much already, and those who
allege that the lower orders, at least, have nothing more to
require. We are told by the former that the Catholics never
will be contented ; by the latter that they are already too
happy. The last paradox is sufficiently refuted by the
present, as by all past, petitions. It might as well be said
that the negroes did not desire to be emancipated, but this is
an unfortunate comparison, for you have already delivered
them out of the house of bondage without any petition on
their part, but many from their taskmasters to a contrary
effect ; and for myself, when I consider this, I pity the

6o ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Catholic peasantry for not having the good fortune to be
born black. But the Catholics are contented, or at least
ought to be, as we are told. I shall therefore proceed to
touch on a few of those circumstances -which so marvelously
contribute to their exceeding contentment. They are not
allowed the free exercise of their religion in the regular
army. The Catholic soldier can not absent him.self from the
service of the Protestant clergyman, and unless he is quartered
in Ireland or in Spain, where can he find eligible opportu
nities of attending his own ? The permission of Catholic
chaplains to the Irish militia regiments was conceded as a
special favor, and not till after years of remonstrance, although
an act passed in 1793 established it as a right. But are the
Catholics properly protected in Ireland ? Can the church
purchase a rod of land whereon to erect a chapel? No; all
the places of worship are built on leases of trust or sufferance
from the laity, easily broken and often betrayed. The
moment any irregular -wish or casual caprice of the benevo
lent landlord meets with opposition, the doors are barred
against the congregation. This has happened continually,
but in no instance more glaringly than at the town of New
town-Barry in the County of Wexford. The Catholics,
enjoying no regular chapel, as a temporary expedient, hired
two barns, which, being thrown into one, served for public
worship. At this time there was quartered opposite to the
spot an officer, whose mind appears to have been deeply
imbued with those prejudices -which the Protestant petitions,
now on the table, prove to have been fortunately eradicated
from the more rational portion of the people, and when the
Catholics were assembled on the Sabbath as usual, in peace
and good-will towards men, for the worship of their God and
yours, they found the chapel door closed and were told that
if they did not immediately retire (and they -were told this
by a yeoman officer and a magistrate) the riot act should be
read, and the assembly dispersed at the point of the bayonet!
This was complained of to the middle-man of government,
the Secretary at the Castle in 1806, and the answer was (in
lieu of redress) that he would cause a letter to be written to
the colonel to prevent, if possible, the recurrence of similar
disturbances. Upon this fact no very great stress need be
laid, but it tends to prove that, while the Catholic Church has
not power to purchase land for its chapels to stand upon, the
laws for its protection are of no avail. In the meantime, the

ERIN. 6 1
Catholics are at the mercy of every 'pelting, petty officer,'
who may choose to play his ' fantastic tricks before high
heaven,' to insult his God and injure his fellow-creatures.
Every school-boy, any foot-boy (such have held commissions
in our service), any foot-boy, who can exchange his shoulder-
knot for an epaulet, may perform all this and more against
the Catholic by virtue of that very authority delegated to him
by his sovereign, for the express purpose of defending his
fellow-subjects to the last drop of his blood, without discrimi
nation or distinction between Catholic and Protestant. Have
the Irish Catholics the full benefit of trial by jury? They
have not ; they never can have until they are permitted to
share the privilege of serving as sheriffs and under-sheriffs.
Of this a striking example occurred at the last Enniskillen
assizes. A yeoman was arraigned for the murder of a Cath
olic named MacVournagh. Three respectable, uncontra
dicted witnesses deposed that they saw the prisoner load, take
aim, fire at and kill the said MacVournagh. This was
properly commented on by the judge, but, to the astonish
ment of the bar and the indignation of the Court, the
Protestant jury acquitted the accused. So glaring was the
partiality that Mr. Justice Osborne felt it his duty to bind
over the acquitted, but not absolved, assassin in large recogni
zances, thus for a time taking away his license to kill Catholics.
Are the very laws passed in their favor observed ? They
are rendered nugatory in trivial as in serious cases. By a late
act Catholic chaplains are permitted in jails, but in Fer
managh county the grand jury lately persisted in presenting a
suspended clergyman for the office, thereby evading the
statute, notwithstanding the most pressing remonstrances of
a most respectable magistrate, named Fletcher, to the con
trary. Such is law, such is justice, for the happy, free,
contented Catholics ! It has been asked in another place, why
do not rich Catholics endow foundations for the education of
the priesthood ? Why do you not permit their, to do so ?
Why are all such bequests subject to the interference, the
vexatious, arbitrary, peculating interference of the Orange
commissioners for charitable donations ? As to Maynooth
College, in no instance, except at the time of its foundation,
when a noble Lord (Camden) at the head of the Irish
administration did appear to interest himself in its advance
ment; and during the government of a noble Duke (Bedford)
who, like his ancestors, has ever been the friend of freedom

62 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
and mankind, and who has not so far adopted the selfish
policy of the day as to exclude the Catholics from the num
ber of his fellow -creatures ; with these exceptions, in no
instance has that institution been properly encouraged.
There was, indeed, a time when the Catholic clergy was
conciliated, while the Union was pending, that union which
could not be carried without them, while their assistance was
requisite in procuring addresses from the Catholic counties ;
then they were cajoled and caressed, feared and flatteredj
and given to understand that 'the Union would do every
thing'; but the moment it -was passed they were driven back
with contempt into their former obscurity. In the contempt
pursued towards Maynooth College, everything is done to
irritate and perplex, everything is done to efface the slightest
impression of gratitude from the Catholic mind ; the very
hay made upon the lawn, the fat and tallow of the beef and
mutton allowed, must be paid for and accounted upon oath.
It is true this economy in miniature can not be sufficiently
commended, particularly at the time when only the insect
defaulters of the treasury, your Hunts and your Chinnerys,
when only these ' gilded bugs ' can escape the microscopic
eye of ministers. But when you come forward session after
session, as your paltry pittance is wrung from you with
wrangling and reluctance, to boast of your liberality, v/ell
might the Catholic exclaim, in the words of Prior :
' To John I owe some obligation.
But John unluckily thinks fit
To publish it to all the nation.
So John and I are more than quit. '
"Some persons have compared the Catholics to the beggar
in Gil Bias. Who made them beggars? Who are enriched
with the spoils of their ancestors? And can not you relieve
the beggar when your father's have made him such? If
you are disposed to relieve him at all, can not you do it
without flinging your farthings in his face? As a contrast,
however, to this beggarly benevolence, let us look at the
Protestant Charter Schools ; to them you have lately granted
.£41,000; thus they are supported, and how are they
recruited? Montesquieu observes on the English consti
tution, that the model may be found in Tacitus, where the
historian describes the policy of the Germans and adds,
' This beautiful system was taken from the woods.' So, in
speaking of the Charter Schools, it may be observed that

ERIN. 63
this beautiful system was taken from the Gypsies. These
schools are recruited in the same manner as the Janizaries at
the time of their enrollment under Amurath, and the Gyp
sies of the present day, with stolen children, with children
decoyed and kidnapped from their Catholic connections by
their rich and powerful Protestant neighbors ; this is noto
rious, and one instance may suffice to show in what manner.
The sister of a Mr. Carthy, a Catholic gentleman of con
siderable property, died, leaving two girls, who were imme
diately marked out as proselytes and conveyed to the Charter
Schools of Coolgreny. Their uncle, ©n being apprised of
the fact, which took place during his absence, applied for the
restitution of his nieces, offering to settle an independence on
these relations ; his request was refused, and not till after
five years' struggle, and the interference of very high author
ity, could this Catholic gentleman obtain back his nearest
kindred from a charity Charter School ! In this manner are
proselytes obtained and. mingled with the offspring of such
Protestants as may avail themselves of the institution. And
how are they taught? A catechism is put into their hands,
consisting of, I believe, forty-five pages, in which are three
questions relative to the Protestant religion. One of these
queries is, ' Where was the Protestant religion before Luther?'
Answer, 'In the Gospel.' The remaining forty-four pages
and a half regard the damnable idolatry of Papists!
" Allow me to ask our spiritual pastors and masters, is this
training up a child in the way he should go? Is this the
religion of the Gospel before the time of Luther, that religion
which preaches ' peace on earth and glory to God ' ? Is it
bringing up infants to be men, or devils? Better would it be
to send them anywhere than teach them such doctrines; better
send them to those islands in the South Seas, where they
might humanely learn to become cannibals; it woiild be less
disgusting that they were brought up to devour the dead
than persecute the living! But are these the doctrines of the
Church of England, or of churchmen? No; the most en
lightened churchmen are of different opinion. What says
Paley? 'I perceive no reason why men of different religious
persuasions should not sit upon the same bench, deliberate in
the same council, or fight in the same ranks, as well as men
of various religious opinions, upon any controverted topic of
natural history, philosophy or ethics.' It may be answered
that Paley was not strictly orthodox. I know nothing of his

64 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
orthodoxy, but who will deny that he was an ornament to
the church, to human nature, to Christianity ? I shall not
dwell upon the grievances of tithes, so severely felt by the
peasantry, but it may be proper to observe that there is an
addition to the burden, a percentage to the gatherer, whose
interest it thus becomes to rate them as highly as possible,
and we know that in many large livings in Ireland the only
resident Protestants are the tithe-proctor and his family.
Among many causes of irritation, too numerous for recapit
ulation, there is one in the militia not to be passed over. I
mean the existence of Orange Lodges amongst the privates.
Can the officers deny this? And if such lodges do exist, do
they, can they, tend to promote harmony amongst the men,
who are thus individually separated in society, although
mingled in the ranks? And is this general system of perse
cution to be permitted, or is it to be believed that with such
a system the Catholics can or ought to be contented? If
they are they belie human nature ; they are then, indeed,
unworthy to be anything but the slaves you have made them !
The facts stated are from a most respectable authority, or I
should not have dared, in this place, or any place, to hazard
this avowal. If exaggerated, there are plenty as willing, as
I believe them to be unable, to disprove them. Should it be
objected that I never was in Ireland, I beg leave to observe
that it is as easy to know something of Ireland without having
been there, as it appears with some to have been born, bred
and cherished there, and yet remain ignorant of its best
interests. " But there are those who assert that the Catholics have
already been too much indulged. See, cry they, what has
been done; we have given them one entire college, -we allow
them food and raiment and full enjoyment of the elements,
and leave to fight for us as long as they have limbs and lives
to offer ; and yet they are never satisfied! Generous and
just declaimers! To this, and to this only, amount the whole
of our arguments when stripped of their sophistry. These
personages remind me of the story of a certain drummer,
who, being called upon in the course of duty to administer
punishment to a friend tied to the halberts, was requested to
flog high, he did; to flog low, he did; to flog in the middle,
he did ; high, low, down the middle and up again, but all in
vain ; the patient continued his complaints with the most
provoking pertinacity, until the drummer, exhausted and

ERIN. 6s
angry, flung down the scourge, exclaiming, ' The devil burn
you! There's no pleasing you, flog where one will!' Thus
it is ; you have flogged the Catholic, high, low, here, there
and everywhere, and then you wonder he is not pleased. It
is true that time, experience and that weariness which attends
even the exercise of barbarity, have taught you to flog a little
more gently, but still you continue to lay on the lash, and
will so continue till, perhaps, the rod may be wrested from
your hands and applied to the backs of yourselves and your
posterity. It was said by somebody in a former debate (I
forget by whom, and am not very anxious to remember),
if the Catholics are emancipated, why not the Jews? If this
sentiment was dictated by compassion for the Jews, it might
deserve attention, but, as a sneer against the Catholic, what
is it but the language of Shylock transferred from his daugh
ter's marriage to Catholic emancipation:
' Would any of the tribe of Barabbas
Should have it rather than a Christian.'
"I presume a Catholic is a Christian, even in the opinion
of him whose taste only can be called in question for his
preference of the Jews. It is a remark often quoted of Dr.
Johnson (whom I take to be almost as good authority as the
gentle apostle of intolerance. Dr. Duigenan), that he who
could entertain serious apprehensions of danger to the Church
in these times, would have ' cried fire in the deluge.' This
is more than a metaphor, for a remnant of these antediluvians
appear actually to have come down to us, with fire in their
mouths and water in their brains, to disturb and perplex man
kind with their whimsical outcries. And it is an infallible
symptom of that distressing malady with which I conceive
them to be afflicted (so any doctor will inform your lord
ships), for the unhappy invalids to perceive a flame per
petually flashing before their eyes, particularly when their
eyes are shut (as those of the persons to whom I allude have
long been); it is impossible to convince these poor creatures
that the fire, against which they are perpetually warning us
and themselves, is nothing but an ignis-fatuus of their own
driveling imaginations. What rhubarb, senna, or 'what
purgative drug can scour that fancy thence'? It is impos
sible, they are given over, theirs is the true
' Caput insanabile tribus Anticyris.'
These are your true Protestants. Like Bayle, who protested

66 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
against all sects whatsoever, so do they protest against
Catholic petitions, Protestant petitions, all redress, all that
reason, humanity, policy, justice and common-sense can urge
against the delusions of their absurd delirium. These are
the persons who reverse the fable of the mountain that
brought forth a mouse; they are the mice who conceive
themselves in labor with mountains.
"To return to the Catholics, suppose the Irish were
actually contented under their disabilities, suppose them
capable of such a bull as not to desire deliverance, ought we
not to wish it for ourselves? Have we nothing to gain by
their emancipation? What resources have been wasted,
what talents have been lost, by the selfish system of ex
clusion! You already know the value of Irish aid; at this
moment, while the starving people are rising in the fierceness
of despair, the Irish are faithful to their trust. But, till
equal energy is imparted throughout by the extension of
freedom, you can not enjoy the full benefit of the strength
which you are glad to interpose between you and destruc
tion. Ireland has done much, but will do more. At this
moment the only triumph obtained through long years of
continental disaster has been achieved by an Irish general; it
is true he is not a Catholic; had he been so., we should have
been deprived of his exertions ; but I presume no one will
assert that his religion would have impaired his talents or
diminished his patriotism, though in that case he must have
conquered in the ranks, for he never could have commanded
an army. But, while he is fighting the battles of the Catho
lics abroad, his noble brother has this night advocated their
cause, with an eloquence which I shall not depreciate by the
humble tribute of my panegyric, whilst a third of his
kindred, as unlike as unequal, has been combating against his
Catholic brethren in Dublin, with circular letters, edicts,.
proclamations, arrests and dispersions, all the vexatious im
plements of petty warfare that could be wielded by the mer
cenary guerrillas of government, clad in the rusty armor of
their obsolete statute. Your Lordships will, doubtless,.
divide new honors between the savior of Portugal and the
dispenser of delegates. It is singular, indeed, to observe the
difference between our foreign and domestic policy; if
Catholic Spain, faithful Portugal, or the no less Catholic and
faithful King of the one Sicily (of which, by the bye, yoa
have lately deprived him), stand in need of succor, away

ERIN. 67
go a fleet and an army, an ambassador and a subsidy, some
times to fight pretty hardly, generally to negotiate very
badly, and sometimes to pay very dearly for our Popish
allies. But let four millions of fellow subjects pray for relief ,
who fight, and pay, and labor in your behalf, they must be
treated as aliens, and although their "' father's house has many
mansions,' there is no resting place for them. Allow me to
ask, are you not fighting for the emancipation of Ferdinand
the Seventh, who certainl}' is a fool and, consequently, in all
probability a bigot? And have you more regard for a
foreign sovereign than for your own fellow-subjects, who
are not fools, for they know your interests better than you
know your own; who are not bigots, for they return you
good for evil; but who are in worse durance than the prison
of an usurper, inasmuch as the fetters of the mind are more
galling than those of the body ?
" Upon the consequences of your not acceding to the claim
of the petitioners I shall not expatiate; you know them; you
will feel them, and your children's children when you have
passed away. Adieu to that Union, so-called, as ' Lucus a
non lucendo,' a Union from never uniting, which in its first
operation gave a death-blow to the independence of Ireland,
and in its last may be the cause of her eternal separation
from this country. If it must be called a Union, it is the
Unioti of the shark with his prey ; the spoiler swallows up
his victim, and thus they become one and indivisible. Thus
has Great Britain swallowed up the parliament, the constitu
tion, the independence of Ireland, and refuses to disgorge
even a single privilege, although for the relief of her swollen
and distempered body politic. And, now, my lords, before I
sit down, will his Majesty's ministers permit me to say a few
words, not on their merits, for that would be superfluous, but
oh the degree of estimation in which they are held by the
people of these realms? The esteem in which they are held
has been boasted of in a triumphant tone on a late occasion
within these walls, and a comparison instituted between their
conduct and that of noble lords on this side of the house.
What portion of popularity may have fallen to the share of
my noble friends (if such I may presume to call them), I
shall not pretend to ascertain, but that of his Majesty's min
isters it were vain to deny. It is, to be sure, a little like the
wind, ' no one knows whence it cometh or whither it goeth,'
but they feel it, they enjoy it, they boast of it. Indeed, modest

68 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
and unostentatious as they are, to what part of the kingdom,
even the most remote, can they flee to avoid the triumph
which pursues them ? If they plunge into the midland counties,
there they will be greeted by the manufacturers, with
spurned petitions in their hands, and those halters round their
necks recently voted in their behalf, imploring blessings on
the heads of those who so simply, yet ingeniously, contrived
to remove them from their miseries in this to a better world.
If they journey on to Scotland, from Glasgow to Johnny
Groat's, everywhere will they receive similar marks of
approbation. If they take a trip from Portpatrick to
Donaghadee, there will they rush at once into the embraces of
four Catholic millions, to whom their vote of this night is
about to endear them forever. When they return to the
metropolis, if they can pass under Temple Bar -without un
pleasant sensations at the sight of the greedy niches over
that ominous gateway, they can not escape the ominous ac^
clamations of the livery and the more tremulous, but not less
sincere, applause, the blessings ' not loud but deep,' of bank
rupt merchants and doubting stockholders. If they look to
the army, what wreaths, not of laurel, but of nightshade, are
preparing for the heroes of Walcheren! It is true there are
few living deponents left to testify to their merits on that
occasion, but a 'cloud of witnesses' are gone from the gal
lant army which they so generously and piously despatched,
to recruit the 'noble army of martyrs.'
" What if, in the course of this triumphal career, in which
they will gather as many pebbles as Caligula's army did
on a similar triumph, the prototype of their own, they do not
perceive any of those memorials which a grateful people
erect in honor of their benefactors; what although not even
a sign-post will condescend to depose the Saracen's head in
favor of the likeness of the conquerors of Walcheren, they
will not want a picture who can always have a caricature, or
regret the omission of a statue who will so often see them
selves exalted in effigy. But their popularity is not limited
to the narrow bounds of an island ; there are other countries
where their measures and, above all, their conduct to the
Catholics must render them pre-eminently popular. If they
are beloved here, in France they must be adored. There is
no measure more repugnant to the designs and feelings of
Bonaparte than Catholic emancipation, no Hne of conduct
more propitious to his project than that which has been pur-

ERIN. 69
sued, is pursuing, and, I fear, will be pursued towards
Ireland. What is England without Ireland, and what is
Ireland without the Catholics? It is on the basis of your
tyranny Napoleon hopes to build his own. So grateful
must oppression of the Catholics be to his mind that, doubt
less (as he has lately permitted some renewal of intercourse),
the next cartel will convey to this country cargoes of Sevres
china and blue ribands (things in great request, and of equal
value at this moment!), blue ribands of the Legion of Honor
for Dr. Duigenan and his ministerial disciples. Such is that
well-earned popularity, the result of those extraordinary
expeditions, so expensive to ourselves and so useless to our
allies; of those singular inquiries, so exculpatory to the
accused and so dissatisfactory to the people; of those para
doxical victories, so honorable, as we are told, to the British
name and so destructive to the best interests of a conduct
pursued by ministers towards Catholics. I have to apologize
to the House, who will, I trust, pardon one, not often in the
habit of intruding upon their indulgence, for so long attempt
ing to engage their attention. My most decided opinion is,
as my vote will be, in favor of the motion."
If thus an Englishman could feel and speak, what must
the ancient Irish have endured, andstill endure, that they
forever seek on foreign shores the blessings denied them at
home, the blessings embodied in our glorious Constitution,
Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness! It is a source
of deep gratification to me that the most beautiful tribute
ever paid to the poetry and memory of Byron was from the
pen of a young Irish poet, not, perhaps, as well known as he
should be, J, J, Callanan, They occur in the "Recluse of
Inchidony," of which I give a few stanzas:
" Too short he dwelt amongst us, and too long ;
Where is the bard of earth will now aspire
To soar so high upon the wing of song ?
Who shall inherit now his soul of fire,
His spirits' dazzling light? Vain man, retire
"Mid the wild heath of Albyn's loneliest glen;
Leave to the winds that now forsaken lyre.
Until some angel-bard come down again
And wake once more those strains, too high, too sweet for men.
You who delight to censure feeble man.
Wrapt in self-love, to your own failings blind.
Presume not with your narrow view to scan
The aberrations of a mighty mind.
His course was not the path of human-kind,

70 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
His destinies below were not the same;
With passions headlong as the tempest-wind.
His spirit wasted in its own strong flame;
A wandering star of heaven, he's gone from whence he came.
Bard of my boyhood's love, farewell to thee !
I little dream'd that e'er my feeble lay
Should wait thy doom, these eyes so soon should see
The clouding of thy spirit's glorious ray.
Fountain of beauty on life's desert way.
Too soon thy voice is hush'd, thy waters dried !
Eagle of song, too short thy pinion's sway
Career'd in its high element of pride !
Weep, blue-eyed Albyn, weep ! With him thy glory died !
Mourner, I rest awhile to weep with thee
O'er him who loved our land, whose voice would make her free."
The Irish poets and novelists rank with the highest, but,
owing to the wretchedly stupid prejudice that so widely
obtains, even among cultured people, they are not half
appreciated, I think Thackeray is as fine a story-writer as
ever lived, but I think Lever, and Gerald Griffin, and Banim,
and Lover write equally well, and worthy to shine in the
immortal company of the English Bards are Moore, cela va
sans dire., and Thomas Furlong, Jonathan Swift, Rev, Fran
cis Mahony (Father Prout), Denis F, McCarthy, James C,
Mangan, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, OHver Goldsmith,
Aubrey DeVere, Thomas Parnell, Thomas Davis, J. J.
Callanan, William Allingham, Samuel Ferguson, Charles
Gavin Duffy, William Carleton and Edward Walsh; and the
orator Curran wrote some fine verses. The " Burial of
Sir John Moore," written by a young Irish clergyman, the
Rev. Charles Wolfe, was pronounced by the authors and
critics of that day to be the most perfect ode in the lan
guage. It was first published anonymously and was
attributed in turn to Byron,' to Campbell, to Rogers and
others. But, though the narrow minds refuse to listen and
the cold hearts fail to respond, the noblest and the warmest
ones of all nations thrill with pity and love for Ireland and
feel a fond admiration for her bards. Along with Byron's
tributes I proudly place the laurel leaf on the tomb of Moore
by our gem of American authors, Oliver Wendell Holmes.
It was written after he had attended a banquet given in
honor of Moore's birth day, and, in gratitude for its beauty
and tenderness there should be placed in the bay-wreath of
Holmes a branch of the "immortal Shamrock." It is all

ERIN. 71
exquisite and worthy of its subject, but I will quote here my
favorite verses only :
" Shine soft, ye trembling tears of li^ght
That strew the mourning skies ;
Hushed in the silent dews of night
The harp of Erin lies.
What though her thousand years have past
Of poets, saints and kings.
Her echoes only hear the last
That swept those golden strings.
Wake, then, in happier realms above
The songs of bygone years,
Till angels learn those airs of love
That ravished mortal ears ! "
It was in the Grenville-Fox Ministry that the repeal of
the Union was first proposed by O'Connell, Charles James
Fox is said to have been amiably disposed towards Ireland.
The King, George the Third, was insane or idiotic most of
the time, but there w^as always enough method in his mad
ness to keep him from signing any bill favorable to Roman
Catholics. He was forever prating about his coronation
oath, and dreading that thus he would lose the Crown.
Many a brilliant mind, friend and foe, had vanished ere
then — Emmet in 1S03, Pitt in 1S06, Curran in i8i7, Grat
tan in 1820, and in 1829 the long-hoped-for Emancipation
Bill -was passed. But it was like the apples of the Dead
Sea, enchanting to look upon when they hang above our
reach, but fading as they touch our longing lips. By finesse
and treachery the promised gift was rendered valueless, and
those who had secured it were doomed to die disconsolate.
On the accession of George the Fourth, who, as Prince of
Wales, had repeatedly said that, when he came to the throne,
he would be in favor of Catholic emancipation, the people
found themselves duped once more. He visited Ireland in
1821. In hopes that this meant friendship, the people hid
their -woes and faced him with welcoming smiles. Famine
was raging, priests were administering the last sacraments to
whole families, while the food was sent to England. This
year the demon Castlereagh cut his throat, and the last deed
of his evil life was to have an act passed to oppress still fur
ther the people. France and America, then both free, were
interested in the Catholic Association headed by the great
Liberator, and sent help in various ways, and their sympathy

72 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
is always remembered and constantly repaid. O'Connell s
election to Parliament in 1S28 was a time of the wildest
enthusiasm; green flags were flying; the shamrock reared
its emerald leaves; hope never smiled so brightly. But the
Catholic Emancipation Act, wrested from the King and
Parliament by him, was so crippled with clauses and restric
tions that the imbecile King need not have so furiously
trampled on the pen with which he signed it, nor the sword
of the bronze statue of the famous Walker have dropped
from the scabbard on the luckless walls of Derry, in horror
at the deed.
In the reign of Victoria, who succeeded William, brother
of "the fourth of the fools and oppressors called George,"
I have been able to find nothing less cruel than the rest.
New laws were steeped ever in deceit, rendering them pow
erless, or worse than powerless. People say she has no real
power, or that she is a good woman and a good mother.
But her voice has never been heard in behalf of the poor
Irish mothers, who love their children fondly, and who were
forced to see them hungry and homeless, exposed to the fury
of the storms, dying on the roadside. Her reign on earth
has been long and prosperous. But life is short, and eter
nity is long. " I would rather be the poor Catholic mother,
perishing in despair, than wear her crown and take her
record to Almighty God. For he has heard the wail of the
oppressed that rang louder than the triumphal shouts of her
jubilee. "And in her anniversary of glory and of gain
Could she not have eased a little weeping Ireland's heavy chain?
Sent a respite from the tyranny and penalty that's there?
Torn a worn and wretched country from its genius of despair?"
In 1843 what a glorious sight it must have been to gaze
on the Great Agitator as he addressed the longing multitude
who turned to him for hope of liberty ! The crowd marched
by the Boyne Water, with green boughs waving, on to Tara.
There, at the historic spot called " Temora of the Kings,""
where once stood the " Stone of Destiny " of the ancient
pagans, O'Connell spoke. It was a fitting place, for, some
three-hundred years before, the English of the Pale, the
first invaders, invited the Irish Chiefs of Kildare to a ban
quet, and silent assassins crept around the board and cut the
throats of the unsuspecting revelers. One might fancy the
shades of vanished chieftains and ancient kings to mingle in

ERIN. 73
the throng, to hover over the inspired orator, as they did in
the days of which Ossian tells. Shall these words and these
hopes die away? Ah, never! We hear their echoes still
from Tara's walls. But, before they could meet on Clon-
tarf's romantic shore, where Brian of old had fought and
died, the British hand had been raised again in deadly men
ace. William Smith O'Brien expresses very clearly how
entirely all laws were in English control. He says that
packed juries were as much a means of oppression as were
informers or troops of soldiers. O'Connell's letters were
opened and read, and he was soon, under a mere pretext,
taken prisoner. After this the vigor of his life seems to
have departed. On leaving prison, surrounded, as ever, by
hosts of followers, he paused and pointed to the Irish Parlia
ment House in Dublin, looking sadly at the people. It was
the last attempt to kindle from the ashes of despair the flame
of the hopes once lighted by his genius, for never did he
hear those halls re-echo to the voices of Irish Senators, His
sun was setting, and soon in Rome would rest his broken
heart. The surplus population of Ireland began, by cruel treat
ment, to be driven over to America, After the " monster
meetings," the English were afraid to have the people, whom
O'Connell's voice could call from every hill and dale in the
poor distracted country, remain longer; therefore emigration
was not only encouraged, but enforced. Never was Eng
land's subtle power more clearly shown than in the policy of
her Minister, Sir Robert Peel, when, to break up the Soci
ety for the Repeal of the Union, he sent, as though famine,
disfranchisement and a renewal of the old penal laws were
not doing their work fast enough, a secret messenger to the
Pope to induce him, by threats of assisting Italy in a revo
lution, to intimidate the Catholic clergy of Ireland and sep
arate them from the people's cause. Also, it was a powerful
move for the evil ascendency to create a discord between the
hosts of O'Connell and the party styled "Young Ireland,"
the new, or later members of the old Repeal Association,
headed by Mitchel, O'Brien, Meagher, Davis and others,
Daniel O'Connell was so vehemently opposed to American
slavery that he returned, with bitter contempt, money sent
from one of the Southern States to aid the cause of the
Repealers, and it is said that, on one occasion, he refused to
take the proffered hand of a slave-holder. These disputes

74 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
about slavery checked for a time American help for Ireland,
Artfully given funds for colleges and churches provoked
religious quarrels, and Protestants began to withdraw their
allegiance from the cause. Sir Robert took Famine for his
sister and Oppression for his brother. Starvation, fever
and murderous riot held carnival. Queen Victoria called all
these things the blessings of Divine Providence. It was
England who begged for Ireland and kept the money and
provisions herself in the awful famine of 1845.
All this terrible time of the famine enough food was raised
in Ireland to feed more than twice the number starved, but
it was all sent to England, for extermination -was the plan
of Parliament, which continually passed laws of the crudest
description to add to the sufferings and goad the people to
desperation and revolt. And of course the acts against arms
for Catholics left the people entirely at the mercy of the
soldiers. In the meantime absentee landlords enforced their
rents from starving tenants, knowing little and caring less, if
only they could obtain money to pay for their pleasures in
London. One of the laws passed at this time was that any
Irish Catholic tenant out of doors at sunset was arrested and
banished. When one realizes that previously the peasant's
poor hut was torn down or burnt over his head, thus driving
him out on the road to die, in a way far crueler than beasts
-were ever treated, the meaning of this law is very plain: To
banish, if possible; if not, to murder. It was strange that
the Green Flag was not forever drowned and dimmed by
the tears and the agonies of the people — the English thought
a pauper could not be a patriot, — all things were done with
this one object. The pathetic song, " Give me three grains
of corn, mother, only three grains of corn," was a true pic
ture of the fearful time. In the lonely villages on the sea
shore might be found by the traveler skeletons by cold
hearths. " A Sunday dinner in England means a coroner's
inquest in Ireland," said John Mitchel. The good Queen
Victoria sent word to all her canting ministers to give thanks
in their churches for the " abundant harvests " drained and
stolen from famishing Ireland. The verdicts on the corpses
was of course willful murder against John Russell, who hap
pened to be Prime Minister, but a long array of names could
be added to his, and we hope there is a record somewhere.
For in some brighter home those driven by English cruelty
must have found the shelter and rest denied them here.

ERIN.

75

The country mourned when the poet-patriot, Thomas
Davis, laid down his lyre forever in 1845, and on the 15th
of May, 1847, in Ireland's darkest hour, O'Connell died.
Then indeed was lost the people's friend ! The career of the
Liberator was the one redeeming ray of light in the sur
rounding gloom. He was the star of hope to the most
unhappy and oppressed land the world has ever known.
His family were among the proudest of the ancient Irish, or
Celtic race, and -were foes to the treacherous Saxon through
all generations. The cruel penal laws forced the young
genius to France to be educated, and, as he passed his youth
there all through all the terrible Revolution, it is not strange
that, though the darling child of Liberty, he yet abhorred
bloodshed, and ever sought to gain his ends by peaceful
means. Son of the bright goddess, indeed, was he, for he
was born in a year great in Freedom's record, 1775. Then
America arose in her might, and then did Henry Grattan
begin his seven years' war with tyranny in Parliament, which
brought, at least, a brief triumph. Though the house in the
little village of Cahirceveen is falling to ruin, "with all its
garden flowers growing wild," yet, while one fragment re
mains, the traveler will look with interest on the birth place
of Daniel O'Connell. Having beheld the horrors of anarchy,
he was forever able to curb his fiery Celtic blood, and his
patience, through the long years of hope deferred, seems
more than mortal. He returned from France just after the
rebellion of '98. He had seen the gallows and the convict-
ship swallow up the young heroes of Ireland, simply for
daring to claim their rights as men, still another reason for
biding his time and trying other methods. A biographer,
whose name I can not give, writes thus of him on his return
to his native country :
"The Irish Bar was still in the glory of its independence;
there was buoyancy in the national heart, and a generous
emulation ran through the Senate, the bar and the Press.
The voice of Curran was heard in the four Courts, drying
the tears his pathos had caused. The sonorous and terrible
energies of Plunkett, 'the Wellington of the Senate,' still
shook the accuser, the criminal, the jury, and even the
bench, at will. The silver tones and gorgeous figures of
Bushe were then in meridian brilliancy, ' charming a verdict
by the silent witchery of his manner,' The morose, yet
unfathomable, mind of Saurin, rich alike in logic and in learn-

76 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
ing, made another giant figure in that group of colossal
jurists; while pressing hard after them in the career of fame
came a younger and scarcely less noble race. Holmes, Thomas,
Addis, Emmet, Louis Perrin and O'Connell, Such was the
school to which the pupil of St, Omer's came," And after
following him through all his wonderful life, calm, though
the billows surged around him, the writer closes his fine
sketch, which, strangely enough, was written only a year or
so before the death of O'Connell, by saying: "There is
hardly a crowned head in Europe with whom he has not
been personally at war. Although but a subject, he has
reached with his strong voice the tenants of thrones and
maddened the wearers of crowns by the keenness of his
attacks. Cloth of gold and marble walls have been unable
to keep out his hostility, and more than one monarch has
trembled beneath the infliction of his lash. He has been well
styled ' one of the greatest powers in Europe,' and assuredly
he has given his brother sovereigns some unfriendly tokens
of his supremacy. Untitled, unpensioned and unpatronized
b}- his own or any other government, simply as Daniel
O'Connell, he exerts more influence on European affairs
than any single man, piremier or prince, of the present age.
A hundred years from now his name and fame will be even
better known, and his actions more favorably interpreted.
Ireland will recall his memory, as the Greeks of old deified
their departed great; and, while his few faults will be for
gotten and blotted out, only his sufferings, his genius and his
courage will be remembered. It will then be recalled, with
wonder, how for half a century he battled against the
wealthiest of nations and the most wily of governments; how
they assailed him with gold, and he yielded not; laid
coronets and ermine at his feet, and he trod over them ; how,
in an era of darkness doubly desolate, he emerged from the
grave of his country's murdered independence and smote
down, with his single arm, all the legions of the land of the
destroyer; how before his voice chains were burst, and
dungeon walls impregnable were sundered, and altars were
relighted, and monopolies broken like reeds; and how he
taught the people to secure all the fruits of revolution with
out risking any of its calamities and horrors. When these
truths are unfolded to an unprejudiced world, in what position
will Ireland be? Will she be free or enslaved, elevated to
the pinnacle of prosperity, or sent to the lowest depths of

ERIN.

77

pauperism? This is a consideration which we will enter into
presently. It will here suffice to say that, when all O'Con
nell's triumphs are rehearsed, and his moral victories
recounted by posterity, may the list contain, and we doubt
not for a moment that it will, as one of the most glorious of
his achievements. The Repeal of the Union!"
Alas! O'Connell died with this hope all unfulfilled. Not
half of the hundred years spoken of here have rolled awav
since he departed, broken-hearted. The record since has
been written, as of old, with tears, sometimes with blood.
We hear and read of great leagues forming, of generous aid,
of sons of Erin pledged to her rescue. The ancient Irish
race are fast vanishing. Has that brave and fiery blood,
which inspired the deeds sung bv the bards of old, grown
cold and tame at last? Will the "chain of silence" fall on
the sweet harp forever, and the hand which woke its thrilling
strains lie cold and forgotten in oblivion's tomb? Why
should we let the Green Banner fade, even though we love
and honor the Stars and Stripes of this new and glorious
country of our birth? We, the descendants of the Celtic
race, as noble as any that ever lived, must forever execrate
the memory of William of Orange and his fatal usurpation of
the throne of a good monarch. For from that time, and a
little farther back, to Cromwell's accursed day, the posterity
of many a brave chieftain is now performing the hardest
labor in America, Though the land of the free offered an
asylum for the oppressed, yet we have repaid her over and
over again. Her finest works are our imperishable monu
ments. When I think of the great canals and railways dug
by the descendants of the former land-owners of Ireland, I
aril unable to express my admiration for that wonderful,
brave and patient race -whose native impetuosity has been so
long and cruelly suppressed and tried. When one considers
how young this great Republic is, and how the Irish race
have helped so nobly to build it up, it is indeed maddening to
hear people talk of native Americans, If they do not mean
the Aborigines, then all races and their descendants stand
equal here! When the American Colony shook off the
British yoke, it was to be a free country ; then, after they
had for some years burned at the stake those persons who
differed with them in religious beliefs, a mild and Christian

78 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
form of manifesting their dissent! there was the African
dragged from his home in chains. Rivers of blood were
needed to wash away this dark and cruel stain, and we might
now hope to call ourselves free at last, but never, so long as
narrow minds are allowed to talk against Romanism and the
Irish blood as barriers to office and distinction, will this great
Nation be really and truly free, after all!
Only five years ago an American Protestant clergyman,
who may have received some education, but who is grossly
ignorant notwithstanding, marred by his brutal insolence the
bright promise of Mr, Blaine for the Presidency, Thus a
bigot blighted a country's hope! That other minds agree
with me in this can be proved by reading the eloquent
oration by the Hon, Daniel Dougherty at the recent Catholic
Convention at Baltimore. Said he, with absolute truth:
"The highest honors of the Republic are denied to us
American Roman Catholics by a prejudice that has all the
force of a constitutional enactment." This intolerable
bigotry was begun by the English, and those in this country
who feel it still are but servile imitators of the most cruel
and treacherous nation the Lord ever allowed to dwell on the
earth! The eloquent Irish advocate, Charles Phillips, whose
speeches are a model of perfect diction, spoke in the strain of
an angel or a prophet on this exciting theme. In allusion to
the repeated excuses of those who were opposing the eman
cipation of the Catholics, and even of some who were in a
very cold way friendly, that "it was not the time," and that
after centuries of wrong they were too "precipitate," he says,
"Oh! there never will be a time with Bigotry! She has no
head, and can not think! She has no heart, and can not feel;
when she moves, it is in wrath; when she pauses, it is
amid ruin; her prayers are curses; her communion is death;
her vengeance is eternity; her decalogue is written in the
blood of her victims; and if she stoops for a moment from
her infernal fiight, it is upon some kindred rock to whet her
vulture fang for keener rapine, and replume her wing for a
more sanguinary desolation!" In answe!r to those members
of Parliament who would not "trust" Catholics, he says:
" Yet England, enlightened England, who sees them in every
field of the Old World and the New, defending the various-
flags of every faith, supports the injustice of her exclusive
constitution, by branding upon them the ungenerous accusa
tion of an exclusive creed! England, the ally of Catholic

ERIN.

79

Portugal, the ally of Catholic Spain, the ally of Catholic
France, the friend of the Pope! England, who seated a
Catholic bigot in Madrid, who convoyed a Catholic
Braganza to the Brazils, who enthroned a Catholic Bourbon
in Paris, who guaranteed a Catholic establishment in Canada,
who gave a constitution to Catholic Hanover! England, who
searches the globe for Catholic grievances to redress and
Catholic Princes to restore, will not trust the Catholic at
home, who spends his blood and treasure in her service! Is
this generous? Is this consistent? Is it just? Is it even politic?
Is it the act of a Christian country to do it in the name of
God? Is it politic in a government to degrade part of the
body by which it is supported, or pious to make Providence
a party to their degradation?"
Do not these words, uttered many years ago in England,
apply with equal force to-day in America? Of course the
Irish or the American Roman Catholic may succeed in busi
ness, or in any scheme of accumulating wealth, but it is a
far different thing when honors are in question, especially in
the Republican party. That one may be of no religion at
all is never considered as the least obstacle, but to be a Cath
olic is an insurmountable one. The question of policy al
luded to by Phillips will soon be felt, however, if only unity
and harmony can be obtained among the Catholics and
Irishmen of America. Does not the following extract from
this noble speech agree fully with the statement of ]Mr.
Daniel Dougherty? As a soldier, "though first in the
charge, and the last in the retreat; with a hand to achieve,
and a head to guide, and a temper to conciliate; he com
bines the skill of a Wellington with the clemency of Caesar
and the courage of Turenne; yet he can never rise, he is a
Catholic ! Suppose him at the Bar. He has spent his nights
at the lamp and his days in the forum ; the rose has with
ered from his cheek mid the drudgery of form ; the spirit
has fainted in his heart mid the analysis of crime; he has
foregone the pleasures of his youth and the associates of his.
heart, and all the fairy enchantments in which fancy may
have wrapped him. Alas, for what? Though genius
flashed from his eye and eloquence rolled from his lips;
though he spoke with the tongue of a Tully, and argued
with the learning of Coke, and thought with the purity of
Fletcher, he can never rise ; he is a Catholic! "

8o ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
I do not believe that any other nation but Ireland could
give birth to the eloquence of this defense of the Catholic
Church against English tyranny, by the same great orator,
Charles Phillips: "What right has she to suspect your
church? When her thousand sects were brandishing the
fragments of their faith against each other, and Christ saw
his garment without a seam a piece of patchwork for every
mountebank who figured in the pantomime; when her Babel
temple rocked at every breath of her Priestleys and her
Paynes, Ireland, proof against the menace of her power, was
proof also against the perilous impiety of her example. But,
if as Catholics you should guard it, the palladium of your
creed, not less as Irishmen should you prize it, the relic of
your country. Deluge after deluge has desolated her prov
inces. The msnuments of art, which escaped the barbarism
of one invader, fell beneath the still more savage civilization
of another. Alone, amid the solitude, your temple stood
like some majestic monument amid the desert of antiquity,
just in its proportions, sublime in its associations, rich in the
virtue of its saints, cemented by the blood of its martyrs.
pouring forth for ages the unbroken series of its venerable
hierarchy, and only the more magnificent from the ruins bv
which it was surrounded!"
I have said that the Republican party in the United States
of America is not generous with its rewards to the sons of
Irishmen and of Catholics. I do not believe it would to-day
place its laurels on the head of a Burke or a Grattan. If the
peerless Sheridan or any of his friends should be re-incar
nated, they would be quite probably distanced by the stupid
descendant of somebody who "came over in the Mayflower"
from England. The fact that England would have kept
America under her heel if she had been as near as Ireland,
does not count with them at all, nor interfere in the least with
the profound admiration so many feel for her. Yet, some
times, a brave soul speaks, as in the case of Senator Ingalls,
of Kansas, one of the brightest men who, of late years at
least, ever sat in the Senate of the United States,
As I like to know that some of the most distinguished of
my countrymen agree with me in my estimate of the Eng
lish Government, I will refer again to the writings of John
Russell Young, where, in his travels with General Grant to
the land of the Orient, he speaks of the infamous treatment
of the East India Company to the natives, of the cruel Mr.

ERIN. 8 1
Cooper's execution of the Sepoys, and the plunder and dese
cration everywhere. The reign of Warren Hastings as
(Governor of India was, in my opinion, like a series of scenes
from the Inferno of Dante; but then, what pen should essay
to touch upon a theme which Burke painted in such immor
tal colors? Macaulay in vain, with his magic art, seeks to
palliate and excuse, and his essay on this singular being is in
deed beautiful, but Burke has fixed in lurid light forever the
hideousness of this demon incarnate, who, with more than
barbaric cruelty, tortured the innocent and the defenseless
and robbed the people committed to his protection. In their
ravages of the holy city of Benares, on the banks of the
Ganges, or Sacred River, they evinced their usual disregard
of the religion of a people, and proved that their own was
worthy of its founder, Henry the Eighth of England. The
one redeeming feature of the relations of the British with
India is the rule of Owen Meredith, the poet, as Viceroy,
His life at Calcutta is everywhere extolled as being kind and
free from the revolting barbarism of his predecessors.
Though all the jewels of the Orient were blazing on the
brow of England's Queen, yet to me her title of Empress of
India but crowns the cruelty of a most cruel reign. She is
lacking in the great ability of Elizabeth, and fortunately in
the unbridled power; otherwise the qualities are not want
ing. Nor can the present Parliament, with the exception of
those who are fighting for Home Rule in Ireland, be said to
have improved on the days of Pitt and Castlereagh, Dis
raeli, with all his varied abilities, was quite a worthy succes
sor of Peel and Russell, Yet there is every reason why men
of Irish descent should belong to the Republican party. It
is the party of freedom. It struck the shackles from the
slave and offered many precious lives in this glorious cause.
Where, then, should go the children of those who had felt
the oppressor's chain? Under what banner should they en
list? Should they, by voice, or deed, or vote, do aught to
perpetuate or countenance the continuation in power of those
who had committed the crime they should most abhor?
Never! When Liberty calls, all true Irishmen should reply,
and should then demand aryl receive equal lights with others.
But, as yet, they seldom receive them, and though their
lives and fortunes, their labors and their eloquence are freely
used in all political campaigns, one seldom hears of an Irish
name hio-h in the country's annals. It is true that Arthur

82 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
was elected Vice-President, and that his father was an Irish
man and without the slightest claim to fine blood. But,
then, his name did not betray his origin. An "O" or a
"Mac" would have imperiled his chances. Daniel O'Con
nell was certainly quite as great a man as Washington.
That he was more brilliant goes without saying, and he was
more consistent, for Washington kept slaves, though he did
not relish kneeling to British power himself, and O'Connell
was a foe to slavery in any form, or in any clime. He was
the champion of Universal Emancipation. " Were those
who have been benefited by the labors of his life to assemble
in congress at the call of gratitude, an assembly would be
formed without a parallel in all past history. The Asiatic of
the Indian Peninsula would leave his rice crops by the banks
of the sacred Ganges; Africa would send forth her dusky
deputies; the West Indies their emancipated dark men; Can
ada her grateful reformers, and Europe the noblest of her
free and of her fallen races. It would be a testimonial equal
to its cause, if all the world were represented, and not other
wise," There have been a few great actors in this tragedy called
Life of whom I would dearly love to have some precious
sduvenir. First, I would prize as the saintliest relic the cru
cifix which Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland, carried with her
on her way to martyrdom. It is now at Abbotsford, in the
possession of Sir Walter Scott's descendants. The great Ma
gician of Romance, though not himself a Catholic, shows in
his lovely story of "The Abbot" his profound admiration
for the loveliest and most persecuted woman in all history.
Next, I wish I could possess, if it is still in existence, which
is quite improbable, the cap reserhbling the ancient Irish
crown, which was placed on the head of O'Connell at Tara,
as the green banners of old Erin waved in the wind, and all
her cliffs and peaks re-echoed with the shouts of the people.
Then I would like a pen with which Byron wrote, believing
that there would be more genius in its point than the world
can now produce, in the way of poesy, at least. Or, perhaps,
one of his letters to Tom Moore, for the friendship between
the two greatest bards of the -wjorld was so beautiful and
rare. And I can not help breaking that special command
ment \\'hich warns us not to covet our neighbor's goods, when
I think of the harp on which Moore himself played, and to
the strains of which he sung his angelic melodies, now said

ERIN. 83
to be in the possession of Mr. George W. Childs, of Philadel
phia. I admire and reverence the great philanthropist, and
rejoice that he cherishes the memory of Ireland's finest poet,
but he is not of Irish blood himself, and can not feel the fer
vor of soul that one who belonged to the race would know
at touching those strings, sacred to the Muse's inspired and
favorite child. Of the great Napoleon, the blaze of whose
triumphant star paled forever the light of mere monarchs of
single thrones, I should be proud to possess one of the many
snuff-boxes he so lavishly bestowed on the fortunate ones he
numbered among his friends. If wealth were mine, I would
gi\e the price that some would bestow on a rare jewel for an
autograph letter of Theobald Wolfe Tone, or Robert Em
met, or The O'Neill, or Patrick Sarsfield. Perhaps some
sprite or fairy, of which Irish legends tell, will grant my
wish some day, so9n or late.
Of the desperate attempts for freedom just after O'Con
nell's death, made by William Smith O'Brien, John Mitchel,
Thomas Francis Meagher and others, leaders of the " Irish
Confederates," and of their cruel and unlawful banishment
to Van. Diemen's Land, in 1848, much has been written and
deeply felt in this country, and their names should be dear
and honored forever. These noble exiles were condemned
to associate with felons, and e.xpelled from the land they
loved so well for fourteen years. Fortunately, they escaped
before their term. expired. O'Brien, having been pardoned,
returned to Ireland in 1856. He died in 1864, having proved
himself to be a worthy descendant of the great Brian Boru.
On the 9th of June, 1855, Mitchel escaped from Hobart
Town. He was welconied with a public banquet and great
honors in Brooklyn. He went to Ireland and was elected to
Parliament in 1874, but died before taking his seat.
Meagher arrived in New York in 1852, and his life from
that time is a part of the history of our country. No more
gallant men went to the late war, and fought and died in the
northern ranks for the Union than Meagher's Brigade.
The well-known green badge was seen where " the thickest
of war's tempest lowered." To those who had made their
homes and cast their fortunes with the southern people, the
praise of Beauregard, Hood and Buckner attests.
This projected rebellion was more easily checked than the
others, because the famine caused by Queen Victoria and her
Minister and Parliament had crushed the people into the sub-

84 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
mission of mortal weakness. The whole country swarmed
with the soldiers, and the cruelties perpetrated in the wa}- of
causeless arrests will always be remembered when the word
" Peelers" is heard, the name then given to the brutal con
stables of Sir Robert Peel, and, indeed, this is the only fame
this wicked man deserves. Naturally, all who could possibly
escape from the horrors that encompassed them fled to
Columbia's Promised Land, yet could earth hold a sadder
picture ? And it touched many a noble heart there which
could feel with Lord Byron:
" True, the chains of the Catholic clank o'er his rags.
The castle still stands, and the Senate's no more.
And the famine which dwelt on her freedomless crags
Is extending its steps to her desolate shore.
To her desolate shore, where the emigrant stands
For a moment to gaze 'ere he flies froq^ his hearth;
Tears fall on his chain, though it drops from his hands,
For the dungeon he quits is the place of his birth."
Next to the famine, summoned by the wand of power,
the Orangemen were a great source of help in the destruc
tion of the Catholics. Senator Conkling used to say that he
always believed in a hell when he thought of Queen Eliza
beth, and if I am ever inclined to doubt the doctrine of eter
nal punishment, I think there must be such a place, well regu
lated by the same laws they applied to the Irish Catholics,
where English tyrants will dwell forever in torment, and
the Orangemen of Ireland, whom they protected through all
their outrages, must be their inseparable companions there.
What madness must have fired the soul of the persecuted
Catholic as he heard, on the celebration of the hated anni
versaries of the Boyne and Aughrim, the tune of "Croppies
lie low," which was the prelude to the wrecking of his
humble home ! The flaunting of the Orange emblems was
always the signal of death, and a price was set upon the
head of one who dared to sing or even publish the ballad
of '98. " Who fears to speak of Ninety-Eight ?
Who blushes at the name ?
When cowards mock the patriot's fate,
Who hangs his head for shame ?
He's all a knave, or half a slave.
Who slights his country thus ;
But a true man, like you, man.
Will fill your glass with us.

ERIN. 85
" We drink the memory of the brave.
The faithful and the few ;
Some lie far off' beyond the wave,
Some sleep in Ireland, too ;
All, all are gone, but still lives on
The fame of those who died ;
All true men, like you, men.
Remember them with pride."
It is, indeed, delightful to hear those old songs in this free
country. On last Saint Patrick's day I was in New York
City, and, in company with some dear friends, I enjoyed
hearing them beautifully rendered by the Ludwig Concert
Company. My cousin. Senator John Laughlin, of Erie, and
myself were horrified to think that we had donned the hated
British red, in the shape of some carnations presented to us
in the morning, and, as the concert was on Sunday evening,
we did not find our shamrock till the following day. The
Hon. John Francis Maguire, an Irish member of Par
liament, gives such an admirable and true description of the
"Irish in America" as effectually contradicts the cruel slan
der that they are good for nothing in their own country.
How is it possible for them to accomplish anything there
when all their labor goes to England's profit, and they are
not even allowed to keep enough for food ? The object of
refusing them the chance to be educated is very plain, for
as Homer says, "Jove makes it certain, that whatever day
makes man a slave, takes half his worth away." Yet the
emigrant, ardent, loving and ambitious, in consequence of
the fact that he was deprived of the privilege of education
at home, satisfies the life-long hunger of his soul b}- giving,
through the most heroic self-sacrifice, a princely education to
his dear children. The inspired labor of the poor Exile from
Erin was the most glorious capital he could possibly bring to
the New World. Without such labor, of what use would
be the buried wealth of the mines or the towering trees of
the forests ? Like the fabled genii of the Arabian Nights,
they, the modern miracle-workers, hewed through trackless
wilds and drilled patiently through rocks of ages, that an
easy pathway might be made for commerce and travel ! Yet
some people think they should have no voice in the law,';
under which they live! Dearly do they prize and appreci
ate the reward of their toil and hardship, through summer's
heat and winter's snows. Oh, the contrast between the Irish
land-owners in America and the poor racked and evicted

86 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
tenant of Ireland ! Though true and grateful to their adopt
ed country, yet still do they remember the glory and the
woes of Erin, and in the cabin on the western prairie, or the
shed hastily put up, gypsy-like, on the side of the canals and
the railroads, are always to be found the few volumes of the
stirring ballads of the bards, the portraits of their saints and
heroes. I believe all this is kept alive for some great pur
pose, like a sacred fire on Freedom's altar, and that some time
its blaze will astonish the world.
The trials they undergo in coming here no pen can por
tray. The young girls, who braved the horrors of emigrant
ships and the loneliness of a strange land in order to send
their slender savings to bring out their parents, their brothers
and sisters from home, surpass in courage and devotion many
a saint of ancient history, and when to this are added the
tyranny and abuse to which they often were subjected, the
sneers at their religion, the performing of menial tasks for
persons in maiw cases far inferior to them, mentally, morally
and physically, what must the effort be to curb the hot Celtic
blood, which was not born for slavery ! It is continually
thrown into the face of Ireland that she is enslaved, but why
not taunt Greeks that they are under the Moslem heel, or
any other- country which has the misfortune to be conquered
and trodden upon ? It is always the mark of a contemptible
spirit to triumph over the fallen, either in nations or individ
uals. The most noble heroes of ancient times, in Greece
and Rome, showed their true greatness b}' their treatment of
the vanquished. It is the small minds who always gloat
over the misery of others. From the invasion of Henry the
Second, down to the present day, I can not see that the
government of Ireland has shown anything like great states
manship on the part of the English rulers and their ministers
and Parliament. Even the stupid George the Second cursed
at Fontenoy " the laws that deprived him of such subjects."
Nor can I understand how intelligent "Americans," who
happened to settle in the New World, as foreigners them
selves, only a short time before, could view and treat with
coldness and prejudice another foreigner, because he wor
shiped the Deity in a different manner and had been op
pressed by tyranny. It could never have been from mere
outward superiority, for the Irishmen here, who came over
from the old country, even those who were deprived of the
privilege of learning to read, have manners and natural intel-

ERIN. 87
ligence superior to all nations. If the sons and descendants
of Irishmen have not the right to the highest glories of the
Republic, providing they are fitted for them, then the Re
public is false to the teachings of its founder.
Washington said, in reply to the address of the Roman
Catholics of Baltimore in 1790: "As mankind become more
liberal, they will be more apt to allow that all those who con
duct themselves as worthy members of the community are
equally entitled to the protection of the civil government. I
hope ever to see America among the foremost nations, in
examples of justice and liberality. And I presume that your
fellow- citizens will not forget the patriotic part which you
took in the accomplishment of their revolution and the estab
lishment of their government, or the important assistance
they received from a nation in which the Roman Catholic
religion is professed." Baltimore, where the great meeting
of Catholic Archbishops, Bishops and Priests was recently
held, has been justly styled the " Rome of America." Ban
croft, our great historian, said of the rule of Lord'Baltimore:
" The persecuted and the unhappy thronged to the domains
of the benevolent prince." The Know-Nothing party of
America, rampant in 1854, selected a strangely appropriate
name. What man of common intelligence, to say nothing
of heart or Christianity, could belong to so infamous a band ?
The base attempt to revive, in this free land, the vile Penal
Laws was a traitorous blow at the Constitution itself, and
in direct opposition to the principles and belief of George
Washington. No man of Irish descent or Roman Catholic
faith should ever vote for one who has been a member of
this party. We are a power which it is "impossible to
ignore, and madness to despise." We have a pen to write, a
voice to be heard in every newspaper in the land and on
every rostrum in the country. The limit to Irish eloquence
has not yet been reached, the superior to Irish genius and
Irish ambition has not yet been found ! The power of Irish
love and Irish hate are as deep as the sea and as powerful as
her storms !
If all that had been written and told could not convince
the "Native Americans" that Ireland had been cruelly
treated, and that the English wished to exterminate them,
then, more eloquent than language are marks like the rude
monument at Grosse Isle, on the St. Lawrence, which re
cords that thousands of Irish emigrants perished as they

88 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
touched the Promised Land. The ravings of the dying in
their delirium, the orphaned children, the martj-red priests
and physicians who watched over the murdered people, are
all witnesses above of England's wickedness; of England, too
cowardly to let those who struggled against her tyranny die
a soldier's death, who attained her ends by famine, and fever,
and banishment ! Thus, I believe that the foreigners, who
helped to maintain Americans in their brave struggle for in
dependence, are forever entitled to the privilege and the hon
ors of the great Republic. The Fenian uprising, so far suc
ceeded, perhaps, in nothing save to prove that
" Freedom now so seldom wakes.
The only throb she gives
Is when some heart indignant breaks
To show that still she lives."
Yet this is much, for there is no doubt in my mind that
there are a great many here in America, of Irish descent,
who are only waiting for a chance to spring on the terrible
foe of their ancient race. I do not know whence the
Fenians derive their name, unless it be from the Finians, or
Fenii, the old Militia of Ireland, of whom Fin MacCumhal,
or Fin McCool, sung by Ossian, was the Chief. The revels
held at his palace of Almhin, in Kildare, in the province of
Leinster, suggested this war-song of Moore:
"The wine cup is circling in Almhin's hall.
And its Chief, mid his heroes reclining.
Looks up, with a sigh, to the trophied wall.
Where his sword hangs idly shining,
' Oh for liberty, for liberty,' the Finians cried."
Under what name will victory come at last ? The Land
League, in which some of our best and brightest are en
rolled, has been in existance nearly twenty years. Will they
succeed in giving to the Irishman the right to own a part,
however humble, of his native land ? It is truly the fate of
Tantalus to be born and reared amid such scenes of loveli
ness, and be deprived of the power to feel a claim in the
smallest portion of them, to be in the midst of plenty, and yet
to starve, to be surrounded with beauty, and yet to perish of
despair, I have alluded to American prejudice and bigotry,
but it is only the shade of the picture. In the radiant fore
ground stand in immortal beauty the forms and names of

LOCKPORT. 89
those who helped the suffering country, whose hearts re
sponded to the wail over the ocean. One at least of these is,
happily, now receiving soine earthly reward, Levi P. Mor
ton, our Vice-President, blessed with wealth and power,
would, if Irish hearts could have their prayers, live on with
out a cloud to dim the splendor of his day, for he sent gener
ous aid to Erin in her distress, and many a charitable deed
done, of which the -world kno-weth not, swells the anthem of
his praise beyond the stars. As we are all so soon to pass
away, why does he shine out, the ov\y real Christian among
so many rich men, one of the few who \ve know is sure to
enter the Kingdom ? To such undying names as his, to the
brave, generous hearts of America, did Lover dedicate this
grateful song: "Sweet Land oi Song ! Thy harp doth hang
Upon the willows now,
While famine's blight and fever's pang
Stamp misery on thy brow;
Yet take thy harp, and raise thy voice,
Though faint and low it be,
/ And let,thy sinking heart rejoice
In friends still left to thee !
" Thy wasted hand can scarcely strike
The chords of grateful praise;
The plaintive tone is now unlike
Thy voice of former days;
Yet, even in sorrow tuneful still,
Let Erin's voice proclaim
In bardic praise, on every hill,
COLUMBIA'S GLORIOUS NAME!"

CHAPTER III.
Lockport and "Auld Lang .Syne."
"Oft in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chains have bound me,
Fond Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
The smiles, the tears of early years,
The words of love then spoken,
The eyes that shone now dimmed and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken."

90 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
In bright days and dark days, through success and mis
fortune, I have never lost the proud consciousness that of all
the children born in Lockport, not one has been more favored
than I with ardent and brilliant friends. From my very
childhood they have surrounded, and cherished, and defended
me. They have wept and rejoiced with me, for, if we have
shared together the joyous midnight revels of youth, we have
also joined in man)' sad and sorrowful vigils. Some have
dropped by the wayside, but many are with me still, and
their affection is now as sparkling and refreshing as the
desert spring to the weary traveler, when, his long march
nearly over, he prays for strength to reach the end of his
pilgrimage. My husband, Richard Crowley, was also born
here, but his boyhood was spent on a farm outside the village.
Like me, he feels that his native city has been kind, and we
never realized it more than now, for, in the recent Con
gressional contest here, though fraud and treachery seemed
temponarily to win the day against him, high above the clouds
of slander and detraction that rose around him, the steadfast
devotion of his lifelong friends shone like a star. Ctesar,
too, was assassinated by his dearest friends, but the eloquence
of Mark Antony roused the populace of Rome to vengeance.
The belief in retribution is as old as the human race, and in
this modern instance one exclaims as Byron did, when stand
ing in the classic haunts of old, and moved by the memory of
his enemies, he sang:
"Thou, who never yet of human wrong
Left the unbalanced scale, great Nemesis !
From out thy former realm, I call thee from the dust !
Dost thou not hear my heart ? Awake thou shall and must ! "
Some, who through long lives wore the garb and outward
seeming of Christians, went far astray from the beautiful
lessons of Jesus Christ and wholly ignored in their deeds that
book they profess to follow. ISIr. Crowley, after a youth
spent in struggles and hardships, found himself at last in con
genial surroundings. In 1S57 he began the studv of law
with Gardner & Lamont, continuing a year later in the
office of L, F. & G. VV. Bo\ven. These gentlemen were
all men of the highest standing, of profound learning and of
lofty character. The friendship inspired by Judge Levi
Bowen and his nephew, George Bowen, has burned in his
heart, a pure flame, through all these years. It shines now

LOCKPORT. 91
with an added luster, for, in the cruel and bitter struggle
through which he has just passed, they nobly came to the
rescue of their proteg^, bravely expressing their contempt of
those whom he had made rich and strong in his days of
power, and who waited until he was changed in fortune and,
as they hoped, broken in spirit, to turn viper-like upon him
who had loved and befriended them. Fortune still smiled
when, in 1 861, he was admitted to the Bar of Lockport and
commenced the practice of law with Mr. Edward I. Chase
as partner. Mr. Chase was a brother of the Chief Justice,
Salmon P. Chase, Mr. Lincoln's first Secretary of the Treas
ury, and, like him, a superbly handsome man, and possessed
also of great attainments. Ah, generous friend! Alas!
that but one short year was permitted of the charm and
benefit of this companionship! In the noontide of life came
the dreadful messenger, and the noble heart of Edward
Chase was stilled. Tw^enty-seven years have elapsed since
his sudden death in 1862, and since then Mr. Crowley has
found many friends of many degrees, but never one he so
loved and admired as Edward Ithamar Chase. With some
others, time has brought change. Some have regulated their
regard according to fortune's caprice. Some have proved
false and ungrateful, but the one to whom the confiding
affection of his early life was given still lives in memory's
most sacred shrine, stainless, changeless, noble and true as of
old. " The love where Death has set his seal
Nor age can chill, nor rival steal,
Nor falsehood disavow,"
How many times, in all these years, I have heard him
exclaim: "Edward Chase was a king among men!" Amid
the many little traits one observes in a dear friend in the
close companionship of every-day life, I remember one he
noticed, that Mr, Chase would turn aside from the cares of
business to watch the falling of the snow, which seemed to
give him a special delight. How soon after this did it weave
for him a spotless covering in his last bed ! Had he lived
longer, Mr, Crowley might have been spared many struggles,
but the veil of mystery which hangs over these awful sor
rows can not here be lifted. Sometime we shall know why
we seem so constantlv to lose what we prize most, and what
makes life most full of hope and light. He seemed and

93 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
looked to be in perfect health of body and mind, and was
just beginning to enjoy the reward of his life's labors. He
had built, only a few years before, a beautiful hoirie on a
spot of ground long selected by him, on which he had planted
many a stately tree, under whose shade he hoped to spend
his declining vears. The sturdy oak flourishes in beauty, and
the evergreen smiles through snows and suns, and for many
a long year the gentle hand of him who placed them there
lies still and cold. But he is not forgotten by us, and few
sons cherish a father's memory more fondly than does Richard
Crowley that of Edward Chase. As the house seemed large
and lonely to the sorrowing widow, who, in losing her hus
band, had lost her all on earth, she grew restless in the place
which sadly reminded her of the blasted plans of her life and
the happy past. And as Mr. Crowle}' had shared always
with Mr. Chase the attachment to the spot, and it was doubly
attractive to him on account of the owner, he purchased it in
1870, and we have lived there ever since. Thus, though we
have spent some time in other places for brief periods only,
this has been our home for almost twenty years. Now, for
us also it is hallowed by a great sorro-w. " Home," said Meg
Merrilies, the Gypsy queen, as she turned her failing eyes to
the bonnie woods of EUangowan, "you will know what that
means when you come to die."
Mrs. Chase's name -was Mary Eliza Colburn, and they
were married in 1843. She is one of the most devoted
wives I ever saw, and everything in any wa.\ connected with
his life still interests her more than aught else in this world.
I am indebted to her kindness for many interesting facts in
the lives of Mr. Chase and his brothers, particularly his
brother Salmon, between w^hom and himself always existed
the tenderest affection. He frequently visited Lockport, and
at one time his celebrated daughter, Kate, spent a year here
in the care of Edward's wife, and under a regimen prescribed
by a cousin of her father. Dr. Ralston Chase. It was then
feared that she might develop consumption, as her mother
had died quite young of that insidious disease. It was very
interesting to me to trace in the ancient family Bible, brought
from the old home iii Keene, New Hampshire, the time-
worn characters on the yellow parchment, which tells that
the parents of Salmon and Edward Chase were married on
the 26th day of June, 1792: Ithamar Chase and Janette
Ralston. Ithamar Chase was the son of Dudley Chase, and

LOCKPORT. 93
was born in Sutton, Massachusetts. Janette Ralston was the
daughter of Alexander Ralston, and was born in Charles-
town, Massachusetts. The record tells that Ithamar Chase
died on the 8th day of August, 1817, aged 55 years. The
record of his wife's death is so faded that I c(juld not
decipher it. They had a family of ten children, and Salmon
and Edward came close together on the list, Salmon the
seventh and Edward the eighth, which may partly account
for the close intimacy which lasted all through the lives of
the two brothers. The eldest sister, Hannah Ralston Chase,
married Mr. John Whipple, of Concord, Massachusetts, at
which place she died. Next to her was Alexander Ralston
Chase, who died at Cincinnati. This name seems to have
been frequently repeated in the family history. Then there
was Abigail Corbitt Chase, who married Mr. Isaac Colby,
and died in Ohio. The fourth child was Dudley Heber
Chase, who died at the early age of twenty, at Margaretta,
South America. Then come Janette Logan Chase, who
married Josiah R. Skinner, and who died at Toledo, Ohio ;
Alice Jones Chase, who died at Columbus, Ohio, then
Salmon Portland Chase, born the 13th of January, 1808;
Edward Ithamar Chase, our friend, born on the 2d of
March, 1810; William Fredric Chase, who died at St. Louis,
and Helen Maria Chase, of whose life and death the records
are too faint to trace.
For all these brothers and sisters and their children, their
wives and their husbands, Salmon Chase seems by his letters
to have felt the fondest interest. It is very plain to see in
their family records that, beneath the cold and dignified
exterior of the great statesman, was the warm heart of the
brother, and of the husband and the father as well, for his
love and pride in his beautiful daughter Kate was well
known, and in his family sorrows he speaks with much
tenderness. He was thrice married, and Mrs. Sprague was
the daughter of the second wife. I believe that she and her
sister Janette, Mrs. Hoyt, of New York, are now the only
ones left, and that he had four other daughters who died in
infancy. It is delightful to me to hear Mrs. Edward Chase
tell the stories and traits of the family in whom I feel so
great an interest. I have often told her there must be some
powerful motive for this, and that there might be something
in the coincidence of their having in their genealogy the
name of Corbitt, that being my own father's name. The

94 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
maiden name of the grandmother of Salmon and Edward
Chase was Alice Corbitt, the wife of Dudley Chase. The
name of Chase shines out as one of the beacon lights in the
dark history of slaveiy, and an anecdote of the sister, Abigail
Corbitt Chase, well illustrates "the ruling passion strong in
death." She was attended in her last illness by a Baptist
clergyman, who was a strong pro-slavery man, and on his
asking her if she would like to have him pray for her, she
replied that she would if, at the same time, he would pray for
the abolition of slaver}-. He did so with great fervor,
probably overpowered by the strong will of the dying
woman. The genealogy of the Chase family was much
discussed in connection with the settling of the vast estate of
Lord Townlc}', of England, in 1846 or thereabouts. Mr.
John Whipple, who married the eldest sister, thus traces it
out in a letter to Edward. Aquila Chase, the English ancestor
of the family in America, was a brother-in-law to Lord
Townley : Concord, N. H., Dec. 11, 1846.
My Dear Brother: — Your letter was received some time since, and I
ought to have answered it before this; but I have been waiting to get some
further information on the subject which you alluded to in your letter,
" The Townley estate. " ***** Now if anything of
the kind exists, there probably can be no doubt that the affinity of your
family can be traced with as much certainty back to Aquila Chase as any
other Chase family in this country, for papers which are in the hands of
Aunt Baruch Chase, which your uncle procured while living, show clearly
that your late father stood in the fifth generation from Aquila, and Bishop
Chase's reminiscences show the same facts, which I presume you have ; lest
you may not have them, I will give you the genealogy which appears from
papers in the hands of Aunt Chase, which will show you in what light your
family stands to the great Townley estate, if there be such : Moses was the
youngest son of Aquila Chase. He married Ann Folansbee Nov. 10, 1684.
His first son was Daniel, and he married Sarah March and moved to Sutton,
Massachusetts. They had children, and their first was Samuel, who married
Mary Dudley; tjieir second son, Dudley, married Alice Corbitt, and they
had many children, of which your late father was one. The papers state
that Aquila Chase was one of four brothers, and he, with two of his
brothers, came into this country, and Aquila settled in Newbury, Massa
chusetts. So much for the great estate. Yours truly, JNO. Whipple.
The following letter from Salmon to Edward is somewhat
interesting in regard to the politics of those days:
Cincinnati, June 10, 1835.
My Dear Brother: — I believe you are indebted to me for a letter, but
I am not disposed to hold you to a very rigid account, so I will just write

LOCKPORT. 95
as if I owed you one. I suppose you are celebrating the triumph lately
achieved by your party in procuring the nomination of Mr. VanBuren at
the Baltimore convention. I congratulate you upon the happy event, and
on the prospect that the great State of New York will at length give a
President to the Union. But what are we poor Whigs to do ? We are
likely to be so cut up and divided between our great men that we shall be
able to show no front at all in the contest. While our army is engaging in
little questions of precedence among its generals, yours will have marched
into the disputed territory and taken quiet possession. I congratulate you
upon having so opportunely disposed of the pretensions of Calhoun, and all
others who might have been in any way troublesome. How I wished that
some half dozen, whpm I could name, who occupy conspicuous positions in
the opposition, might be disposed of in a like manner. Can you not make
room for me in ' The Republican Party '? Is there no process by which I
may be transformed into an ' Original Democrat '? I have become tired of
defeat after defeat. I don't like this fashion of being cut up in divisions.
I don't care about belonging to a party which is imbued so thoroughly with
the Bobadil tactics, only reversing their applications, but think of this and
advise me. I am getting on slowly with the third volume of my Statutes,
and I shall send you a copy whenever a suitable opportunity presents itself.
My business generally has rather fallen oif than increased ; for the last two
months it is, however, tolerably good. I have been buying some property
lately, which I hope will yield a profit in addition to my business. I did
intend to visit you this summer; I thought nothing could prevent me ; my
wife's health, however, will not permit her to travel so far. Dr. Colby
said it would be dangerous, and I can not leave her. It was my intention
to proceed to Lockport from Columbus, where I must go to attend the
Circuit Court in July next. What is the reason you can not come to see
us ? You are yet a bachelor and have nobody to consult as to your move
ments except yourself. You ought to come and see us, if not us, yet the
Great West where we live. I anticipate the day is not distant when an
excursion from any part of New York to Cincinnati will be a mere matter
of moonshine. The Mad River and Lake Erie Railroad is to be put under
contract immediately ; when that is completed it will be extended at once
to Cincinnati, right alongside of the Miami Canal and along the shore of
the lake ; then some morning you may come along and take breakfast with
me and return home to tea. What preposterous folly ballooning is ! As if
the wings of the wind could carry us faster than the wings of steam !
Your affectionate brother, S. P. Chase.
The first great grief is well expressed in this letter of long
ago, which tells of the death of his first wife:
Cincinnati, April 26, 1836.
My Dear Brother:— \ did feel, and I felt deeply, your neglect to write
me on the occasion which deprived me of all that made life to me most
desirable. It is true no sympathy on such an occasion can reach the evil
itself. That can not be repaired. The wound can not be healed. Still to
know that our friends do sympathize with us, that they share our sorrows
and would, if possible, relieve them, is in itself consoling. I could not
believe that your silence was a consequence of indifference. You could not
be indiff'erent, for I am your brother; you could not, for she was your

96 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
sister, not only in law, but in affection. How often have I heard her say:
'How much I like that brother Edward! How much I wish he would pay
us a visit.' Your kind attentions when we were at Lockport won much
upon her heart, lor she was all alive to kindness; and could you have known
her belter, you would have esteemed her, and she would have esteemed
you more. Do not understand me as reproaching you; I am only candidly
saying that you acted on mistaken views, and that you ought to have
written to me. I can not pa'nt to you how much I feel my loss. You could
not understand my feelings, even if I could describe them. It is as if sud
den night had descended upon the prospect when fairest and most smihng.
At the very hour when the difficulties under which I labored were giving
way, when prosperity was mine, when we had been blest with a little one,
in loving whom our mutual affections would have found a new and intense
life, at that very moment she was cut off. I bow to the mysterious sword
of Divine Providence. I mourn that my sin has brought this terrible blow
upon me. But my heart bleeds at the remembrance of her, and that she is
not. Oh ! that I could but once recall the past ! But the past is beyond
hope of recall. ******* My little babe is also very
well. She is a sweet-tempered little child, happy and contented in her un
consciousness from morning until night. She is very strong. She can
already, though only five months old, support herself standing by holding
onto a chair or my fingers. ***** And the babe has been
healthy from the first. For this and all my remaining blessings I ought to
be, I hope I am, thankful, but, Alas ! what are they all to the blessing
which I have lost ? Ever your affectionate brother, Salmon P. Cha.se.
Another letter contains a theory, relating to politics, which
he found it afterwards impossible to practice, and at the
same time shows how profound his religious convictions
were: Cincinnati, March 8, 1842.
My Dear Brother Edward: — ****** I am glad you
like the address of our Liberty Convention. I think it contains true Demo
cratic doctrines, and that it will gain public favor in time. I mean to keep
out of politics, however, myself. I am glad that you do, too. Unless a
man is independent or means to make his living by politics, and a poor
living that always is, » » * * » he had better keep off.
****** I don't, however, have entire confidence in
any reformation unless it is based on religious convictions. If I could only
see you and our other dear friends cherishing a well-grounded hope in
Christ and enjoying the happiness and content which religion inspires,
could rejoice in tribulation. Your affectionate brother, S. P. Chase.
Here is another letter on "Democracy" :
Washington, August 3, 1852
My Dear Brothey:—\ am very glad to receive your letter showing
your action in Niagara County; it is indeed cheering. I was

LOCKPORT. 97
absent when your letter arrived, attending a meeting of my class at Dart
mouth; otherwise I would have taken care that your letter, or rather the
facts stated in it, should have appeared in the Era. It is very important
to keep the encouraging facts before our friends and the country. Barney,
in a letter received to-day, says he has sent you a list of names in different
parts of the state; make the best use of it you can I rejoice to learn that
so true and good a man as Bradford R. Wood, of Albany, is all right. Do
you know him? He would make a good candidate for the Presidency if
attention had been directed to him early enough. You see my position de
fined in the Era in the article on the P. Convention and its nominees. I
don't mean to be a candidate, and have taken such steps as will secure me
from the nomination without formally declining. I hope you will go to
Pittsburgh. It is very important to get the convention to take a right
platform, and the name Independent Democracy. It will cost very little
from Lockport, and the benefit is worth the cost. Go there, and stand firm
for a reasonable platform, free from ultraism, but comprehensive in scope
and taking the name "Independent Democracy" boldly and distinctly.
Give my love to Eliza and my dear little Kate.
Very affectionately yours, S. P. Chase.
This gentleman referred to in this letter was Mr. Hiram
Barney, who was made Collector of the Port of New York
eight years later, when Mr. Chase was Secretary of the
Treasury. The "dear little Kate" was his idolized daughter,
afterwards Mrs. Chase Sprague. The next letter was
written on the death of his second wife, the mother of "dear
little Kate": Cincinnati, Nov. 3. 1845.
My Dear Brother Edward:—! received yours of the 27 th ult. this morn -
ing. It is, indeed, a heavy affliction that has fallen upon me, and, though
not unexpected, not on that account the less distressing. I have watched
over Lizzie for years, and it was my chief comfort to contribute to her hap
piness; and the approaches of death were so slow that I did not realize that
the hour of departure must at length ariive. I am truly thankful that she
was so calm, so submissive, so trustful. She expressed repeatedly her con
fidence in Christ, and seemed like a child led through an unknown path in
darkness by a father's hand. This is the only consolation I can appreciate.
With love for your dear wife and all friends, I remain affectionately and
faithfully. Your brother, S. P. Chase.
Salmon Chase's life was so often shadowed by berea\'e-
ment that he might well have applied to himself the poet's
¦words :
" Oh, Love ! what is it in this world of ours
Which makes it fatal to be loved ? Ah, why
With cypress branches hast thou wreathed thy bowers.
And made thy best interpreter a sigh 1

98 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
As those who dote on odors pluck the flowers.
And place them on their breast, but place to die.
Thus the frail beings we would fondly cherish
Are laid within our bosoms but to perish."
I do not know how soon after he married the third wife,
but in 1S52 he writes of her death also; she -was the mother
of "Nettie," Mrs. Hoyt. Ten years later the dear "brother
Edward " had passed into the better land, and he writes to
his widow thus: Washington, October 25, 1862:
My Dear Eliza : — The world is dark, but God is light and love. Oh,
that we trusted Him more completely ! Then even the world would be
brightness ! I wrote Mr. Bush about the office ; both the President and
Governor Seward have assured me that it shall not be disturbed until at
least after the November Term, and I hope not before the end of the year.
Mr. Bush says all is right, and he expects to be here next week 
. . . . Mr. Dickinson is now in Nicaraugua and will not return probably
for a month or two, and perhaps not before spring. This will be settled
when Mr. Clay, who is to be his successor, shall arrive. My heart's
sympathies are with you, dear Eliza, in your present affliction, and all I can
do for you shall be done. Kate will write. She would send her warm
love if she knew of my writing; she loves you and loved her uncle dearly.
Your affectionate brother, S. P, Chase.
The office to which Secretary Chase refers in this last
letter is that of United States Marshal of the Northern Dis
trict of New York, which Edward Chase held during the
war and up to the period of his death, Mrs. Chase then
assumed it and attended to all the duties with ability and
fidelity until the summer of 1863. Mr. John T. Bush, of
Niagara, whose recent death was so much deplored, was an
intimate friend of the family. He was well known all
through western New York in political, financial and
social life. He owned the "Clifton House" on the Canada
side of the falls, and a most superb residence close by.
Many people think the view from there the best one to be
obtained of the Great Cataract. It seems to have been
about four years after the death of the first wife that Salmon
Chase married the second; and between her death and his
marriage to the last wife but one year intervened. His
periods of wedded bliss were brief, indeed, his first lasting
only eighteen months, and, singularly enough, the two others
were each of six years' duration merely. Thus Fate ever

LOCKPORT. 99
robs of something dear, even when appearing to give with a
lavish hand. I think it was a very sweet and romantic idea
to name Mrs. Kate Chase Sprague, the child of the second
marriage, after the wife and daughter of the first one. It
evidenced two sentiments, one that he wished to renew in
beauty the love of his youth, and the other the most perfect
confidence in the heart of the second love. For it was a
graceful concession on her part, and one which a narrow-
minded woman would have refused. What a small and evil
nature it would show to be jealous of the dead ! Yet I have
known such. This lady, Mrs. "Lizzie" Chase, once visited
Lockport, so Edward's wife, "Aunt Eliza," has told me.
She describes her as being very lovely, of a slight figure and
exquisite complexion, with fine light brown hair and mar
velously bright eyes, which the daughter. Miss Kate Chase,
inherited ; for hers are rarely beautiful, of that indescribable
color, one hardly knows whether to call hazel or brown.
She also describes her as having had a charming gayety of
disposition, full of frolic and fond of playing capital jokes
upon her stately husband, and withal very affectionate. All
this life and loveliness passed away at the early age of
twenty-three. What a loss such a mother was, and how
much the girlhood of her daughter missed! When we think
of this, it seems wonderful that she could have grown up so
finely and become possessed of so many accomplishments
without a mother's fostering care. Of course her father took
the deepest interest in her and watched over her health and
improvement tenderly, but she must have relied principally
on herself after all, for he was necessarily very greatly occu
pied with law and politics. Her life, though brilliant,
never knew the sweet careless freedom of a happy girlhood.
In later years I have heard her tell that, when at a ball, at
the very hour when the gayety was at its height, she would
be forced to depart, like Cinderella, at the fatal hour of mid
night. The stroke of twelve was the signal for flight.
It really appeared as though in her life the Fairy Prince
was Governor Sprague, for he seemed then to possess every
thing which renders life delightful, but he was only another
instance of the eternal truth the world's history is forever
telling, that, when one's star is at its very brightest, the
danger and the downfall are at hand. In other words, when
the radiance blinds, then the shadow is already stealing
behind us, to snatch away our joys, to crush the smiling

loo ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
brow into the dust it lately spurned. I have also heard her
attribute to the care of her father the erect carriage so often
observed in her. He always insisted that it -v\-as a matter of
culture, and if he saw her inclined to stoop in the least, she
would at once feel his warning thumb in her back. Aquila
Chase, the ancestor of the American Chases, came from
Cornwall, in England, which is always associated with the
ancient ballad of Trelawney :
" And shall Trelawney die ? And must Trelawney die ?
Then thirty thousand Cornish boys shall know the reason why."
The grandparents of Salmon and Edward Ithamar, Dud
ley Chase and his wife Alice, were the first white settlers in
the town of Cornish, New Hampshire, -which -was granted to
them by Governor Bpwdoin in 1765, and which they named
in honor of the English town of their forefathers. All these
members of the Chase family of whom I speak were born in
this town of Cornish, although at times some of them after-
-wards lived at Keene. But there were Irish Chases, of
whom one, Mr. Newby Chase, of Black Rock County,
Dublin, wrote to the Chief Justice in 1767, regarding the
coat of arms used by the Chases of Ireland. Their motto.
Pro Christo et Patria, For Christ and my Country, the
descendant, the Chief Justice, seems to have nobly kept.
This letter gives a story told by the writer's father years
before: "A vessel arrived from England in the Port of
Dublin, a great many years ago, commanded by a Captain
Chase. One of the name, who resided at that time in
Dublin, hearing of the arrival of a namesake, called to see
him and told him what brought him. 'Oh,' says the captain,
'I am an English Chase, and don't know you.' 'Well,' says
the other, 'I am an Irish Chase, and don't knowjoa,' and
was turning to go away, when the captain seized him and
said he should not leave him in that way, for he was surely a
Chase. He made him go on board the vessel, and ever
after they -were intimate friends."
I have never heard whether the Irish Chases were among
the English Colonists who went over with Strongbow in the
time of Henry the Second, but I think that was probably too
early a date for them. Nor have I heard it stated whether
Alice Corbitt, the grandmother of Salmon and Edward was
Irish or English. The name Corbitt is found in both

LOCKPORT. loi
countries, with a slight variation in the spelling. There was
a Corbitt Chase, an uncle of the Chief Justice, and the
names are just at present mingled again after more than a
hundred years, as one of my sons is named after Edward
Chase, and is called Chase Crowley. The greatness and
beauty of the mind of Salmon Chase are well shown in the
following extract from a daily journal, which also proves
that those destined to fame feel a warning voice bidding
them not to loiter on the way: "January 13, 1829: My
birthday, and I have no guardian save Him whose wards we
are through life. I am twenty-one. ' To-morrow, and to
morrow, and to-morrow creeps in this petty pace from day to
day,' yet at length the most distant imaginable point of time
will be reached. How precious a treasure is time, and how
have I lavishly squandered it! Oh, that I could recall some
of it from the abyss! Vain is the wish. Time lost can never
be recalled or redeemed. Yet even now there is time, if I
will but resolve and act, to do much. Knowledge may yet
be gained, and golden reputation. I may yet enjoy the con
sciousness of having lived not in vain. Future scenes of
triumph may yet be mine. Let me awaken, then, to a just
sense of my great deficiencies. Let me struggle earnestly
for the prize of well-doing and leave the event to the great
Arbiter of all destinies!" This little fragment from one of
his letters coincides with what his daughter so often told me,
that he wished to treat every one kindly : " Act as though
you cared for them," said he, "and the good feeling will
come." He always disliked to be at variance with any one,
and had that distinguishing characteristic of great men, a
lack of the spirit of retaliation. "Say what you please
kindly of your friends, but keep a bridle on the lips when
you tell of those you do not like so well." I am glad to find
this Hnk in the chain of his life which connects his spirit with
that of the great Daniel O'Connell. Both ardently desired
the universal emancipation of mankind. One strove in
Erin's blood-stained land, and the other toiled in the Repub
lic that the word "Freedom" might be a mockery no more,
and thus both names are immortalized !
At a meeting of the Royal National Repeal Association of
Ireland, held May 10, 1S43, Daniel O'Connell said some
things in his fashion far from favorable to the Irish- Ameri
can supporters of the then "peculiar institution of the South."
Such eminet Irish-American repealers as David T. Disney

102 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
were greatly concerned about that utterance of the great
Irish leader. They responded to the liberator. Mr. Disney
was thought to have surpassed himself in that response.
But Mr. O'Connell, in a letter dated October ii, 1843,
replied 7nore suo, -whereupon such eminent Irish-Americans
as Salmon Portland Chase took up the tale. "The Friends
of Liberty, Ireland and Repeal," assembled in Cincinnati,
and Mr. Chase, as one of a committee, prepared an address,
reviewing the relations of the Federal Government to
slavery at the period of its organization, setting forth the
original anti-slavery policy and the subsequent growth of the
opposite policy, and vindicating the Liberty Party. It was
surprising to find how much Irish blood and Irish extraction
showed themselves in born Americans at that time. Chief
Justice Chase presided when Mr. Crowley was admitted to
practice in the Supreme Court of the United States, in 1865.
Far back to childish days date my recollection and friend
ship for the other Chase family of Lockport, the cousins of
the Chief Justice. Their paternal grandfather was General
Chase, an Officer in the Revolution, and his son Jonathan's
children came here from the Green Mountains of Vermont.
They also -were a large family, ten children in all, the same
number of those of Ithamar and Janette. There were two
physicians. Dr. Jonathan and Dr. Alexander Ralston; a
dentist. Dr. Samuel Logan, a very handsome and popular
gentleman, whose wife, the good "Aunt Sarah," is one of
the angels who help to redeem this world and whose life,
though full of sorrow, is a shining example of unselfish
devotion to others. It did seem too hard that, after all her
other trials and losses, George, her beautiful one, should be
taken ! Beautiful he was to look upon, beautiful in his life,
beautiful in his death in the Christian Mission to which he
was so early called ! As his later years of manhood were
passed far away in the West, and I did not see him for many
years, the portrait in my memory now is of a glorious youth,
whose dark eyes shone with the light of genius, and kindness,
and, all high and holy aspirations. The first time I saw him
he was ascending the steps of his uncle's school-house with
my brother, James Corbitt, whom I have before mentioned,
and when I think of those two in their magnificent prime, of
the promise held out to their fond parents of a brilliant
future, of all their adoring friends, I wonder still, through all
the philosophy )ears have brought, why such bright beings

LOCKPORT. 103
were created to dazzle and charm for awhile, and then plume
their radiant wings for flight and leave us in a darkness
doubly drear by contrast! But on the other hand, what
awaits those who stay? To find opposition where once was
encouragement, treachery where once was trust, and at last
to grow so weary in the race that we look back with regret
that we too did not share the early grave so wept over and
so deplored!
That morning I speak of was one of those which seem
like a dream of our lost Eden ; the garden of the school-house
-was blazing in color and rapturous with the song of birds;
my brother introduced me to his young friend. I was then a
child of seven, and the scene remained imprinted forever on
my mind. The simple words, " It is a very fine morning,"
which he first spoke, I hear still even to the very tone.
Shall I listen to those voices again in scenes which will not
vanish? If finite mind could create a phonograph where
tones are caught and imprisoned, what can not infinite
intelligence do? This famous school, where fine men
taught, and whence many a bright scholar issued, had been
in former days the old "Coffee-House," a sort of combination
of hostelry and post-office. There the winding of the stage-
driver's horn had been heard long before the Latin conjuga
tions. The teacher, Mr, Chase, was a man of much ability,
and there were in his family itour brothers, David, Nathan
and William, who did not reside here, and George, who is
still living, a hale old man of eighty, and has always been
somewhat of a recluse. The sisters Mary and Eliza I do
not remember. Not far off stood the " Old Seminary,"
originally a Presbyterian Meeting-House, where so many
matrons will remember having spent some girlish years.
When I went there, we had for our teacher Miss Hemiup, a
lovely woman, who is now, I believe, living somewhere in
the West.
We were married in the autumn of 1862, and commenced
housekeeping in a little cottage opposite the home of Judge
Gardner, in whose office my husband was first a student. I
have the fondest recollections of that old neighborhood. All
the brio-ht hours of my childhood and early girihood were
passed there. To retrace those lost paths, to revisit those
old spots is, indeed, to gaze on the tomb of vanished joys.
lust around the corner, not far from the old " Coffee-House
on New Main Street, my father and mother lived for some

104 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
years after my marriage. Oh, happy days ! when in the
soft summer evenings I could trip lightly back to my old
home, and feel no sense of separation. When I think of the
bright bevy of school-mates who surrounded me at that time,
I pause to wonder where their wandering feet have led them
since those careless days. There was Cornelia Spooner, a
literary genius, a girl of great nobility of soul. She passed
years ago to "where beyond these voices there is peace.'*
There was Mary Fassett, who never seemed worldly enough
for the terrible conflict here, and who entered the higher life
before her dear friend Cornelia. Their souls did not need a
long discipline on earth, and I love to think of them as
treading together through amaranthine bowers, enjoying the
splendors of the immortals. Early they listened to the voice
of Jesus. " The Master's voice was sweet;
' I gave my life for thee;
Bear thou this cross through pain and loss,
Arise and follow me,' "
They obeyed and meekly trod the appointed* way, though it
led through the desert, and the flowers were left behind,
though the cross was heavy, and the pathway dreary. Long-
have they seen the lilies bloom on Canaan's shore. There
were Sue Baker, my loved and inseparable companion, still
here, though now so seldom seen ; and the little beauty. Belle
Smith; and her bright cousin, Helen, the niece and daughter
of the Methodist ministpr here at that time, and the fascinat
ing young doctor, Simeon Tucker Clarke, the child of the
Muses, who had just then strayed from Parnassus and elected
to fold his radiant wings and dwell in this region. How all
this little band of friends, including my husband and my
brother James, flocked nightly to burn incense at the shrine
of the dazzling Eliza Prentice, our favorite heroine of
romance. She was the light around which all these moths
fluttered in those happy days. Could any love-lorn seiiorita,
listening behind lattice-bars to the magic tones of her lover
outside as he tuned his guitar for her ear alone, ever thrill as
we did to Eliza's voice singing:
' ' Oh, cast that shadow from thy brow !
My dark-eyed love, be glad awhile !
Has Leila's voice no music now ?
Is there no spell in Leila's sniile ?"

LOCKPORT. 105
And what Spanish cavalier, ever feared by duennas, could
weave a sweeter spell of youthful romance than Dr. Clarke,
as he swiftly caroled: ' ' Meet me by the running brook
Where the silver waters flow.
Meet me in the shady nook
Where the drooping violets grow !"
The poet-physician has well fulfilled the fair promise of his
spring-time. Though the works of ' his later years are
worthy to rank with those of our greatest writers, yet all the
first blossoms of his genius have even now a greater interest
for me. More than a quarter of a century ago he wrote for
me the following acrostic, which, though admired at the
time, seems lovelier than ever now, for it much better suited
my angel daughter Maud, whose name was the same as
my own:
' ' Joyfully waken the harp-string,
Utter thy voices, ye Muses !
Love, to the altar thy torch bring !
Is there aught vocal refuses ?
Angels are waiting to bless thee,
Maud, the delight of the angels !
Angels themselves would caress thee,
Up in their home where pure love dwells.
Do not deny them their birthright ;
Call them thy sisters then ; love them ;
Open thy heart to the heaven-light
Radiantly shining above them,
Beaming from Jesus, thy brother;
Into thy heart, O, receive him !
Trust him, and trust in none other ;
Think how thy coldness would grieve him ! "
—S. T. Clarke.
\
The spirit of beauty leads him in her footsteps everywhere
in Nature, In conchology, one of his favorite sciences, he
seems to prize most the fairy-like shells, such as might have
been left after Titania's revels by the sea-shore, and in his
long country drives he will often be inspired by the tiniest
wild flower, blooming almost unseen, to pen some charming
bit of verse, quite as much as by the lily's spotless chalice or
the rose's heart of fire. Thus he immortalized the asters and
golden-rods, raising them forever from their lowly station.
The passing years have left so little of impression on him
that one might imagine him to have found, in his botanical

io6 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
and alchemical researches, the magic waters for which Ponce
de Leon sought in vain. In the sick-room his tender
sympathy is cherished as a blessing, and his memory
endeared to all with whom he thus comes in contact.
As glowing visions, undimmed by the mists of years, come
back to me the faces of the, beautiful Spencer girls, who
might have been houris straying by chance from some
Persian paradise, and the gifted and lovely Lounsburys, Ida
and Imogene. How the strange mystery of some human
destinies overwhelms us! Even as we wonder why such
skill should be shown in the building of the ocean world,
-where the light never comes, why the gem should be hidden
in the dark mine, why the consummate flower of genius
should so often burst into bloom under the saddest environ
ments, so we wonder that the best and brightest of our
friends should pine away in the dark shades of gloom, -while
the petty natures, without heart, without grace or attraction
of any kind, often devoid of beauty or intelligence, should
be forever in the sunshine and walk through life to the sound
of a perpetual triumphant march! If we did not hope that
the Master's hand -would attune these tangled chords again
into harmony in the life eternal, who could endure?
" And now I ask with throbs and pain.
Ah ! when shall we all meet again
As in the days long since gone by ?"
The day, the brief days, when my dear brother James was
with me, and on moonlight nights we drove out to the
Lounsburys' delightful home, where we were always
received with the true southern hospitality ! Mr. Lounsbury
was a remarkable man, and he possessed the faculty of
describing in a thrilling -way the experiences of a varied life.
Ida Lounsbury possesses all the esprit which made the
leaders of Parisian society famous in the days of the Emphe.
Fortune could not place her too high to please the friends
who knew her best, or .to reward her sufferings and her
lovely and heroic qualities. The late Doctor Bishop was at
that time a great favorite in this special circle, and when he
brought his beautiful 30ung bride. Miss Leah Howes, from
some eastern city, we instantly, with youth's poetic fervor,
pronounced her to be the perfect type of Byron's Gulnare in
his story of the Corsair. Doctor Bishop was a very hand
some man, and his death, just in the height of usefulness and

LOCKPORT. ,07
success, was greatly deplored. He was for many years
associated with Dr, Evans, one of the most ardent and
devoted of the disciples of Esculapius, The two daughters
of the mythological god of medicine, Hygeia and Panacea,
must have attended him in his professional path, for not only
is he personally blessed with radiant health, but he brings
consolation as well as healing in his train. Though he has
many friends, it is still a great privilege to count for one, as
I feel that I do, through his kindness to some dear to me
who have "Gone before to that unknown and silent shore,"
But after all my observation, I must express, as the result of
comparison, that Lockport has been and is still rarely
fortunate in its physicians. However, they are in all places
the very noblest and kindest of men. It is only fitting that
the grandest of all professions should be recruited from
Nature's noblemen. Before their achievements the fame of
earth's greatest warriors, the story of the most brilliant
victories, must pass away like a mist and a dream.
"The drying up a single tear has more
Of honest fame than shedding seas of gore,"
Written in characters of unfading light should be the
histories of the pioneer doctors who, to relieve suffering in
the -wilderness, took long rides at the peril of their own lives,
guided only by the trails of animals or Indians, and carried
the medicines in their saddle-bags, thus greatly impeding
their toilsome progress on these errands of mercj-. If the
badge of knighthood -were conferred on all who had thus
come to the rescue, though not sung in minstrel's lays, or
emblazoned on the historic pages of our country, a new book
of heraldry would be devised, and we should read there
many a dear familiar name, and the Grand Cross of the
Legion of Honor would decorate many a faithful breast. I
would rank among the foremost heroes Dr. William M.
McCollum, Dr. William B. Gould and Dr. M. S. Kittinger.
Perhaps they prefer the records they have, in the hearts of
the living and the sacred memories of the dead, whose
farewells to friends on earth they have so often sadly
witnessed. A more skillful physician, a truer gentleman, a
friend of finer feelings, a more sincere Christian than Dr.
William Gould I have never known. Early in my life I
had occasion to feel his generous kindness, and the changing

io8 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
years can never wear the memory away. I have often said
that, if he had not chosen the medical profession, he would
have made a great actor, for his powers of mimicry are
simply marvelous. His fine memory enables him always to
use his knowledge for the pleasure and benefit of others, so
that socially his presence as a visitor adorns, and enlivens,
and helps to dispel the shadows that gather around the couch
of suffering. He must be very lonely now, having recently
lost the accomplished and devoted companion of his life,
who entered into all his hopes and trials. Alas, in these
sorrows we can only give our sympathy, for the assuaging
must come from a mightier Hand. And Dr. McCollum!
All the older inhabitants must recall his boundless charities,
his profound scholarship, his unique peculiarities. Early
troubles, though they made him somewhat cynical, did not
in the least harden that great and sympathetic heart.
•• After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well."
Dr. Kittinger, when I first kne-w him, was a member of
Dr. Fassett's household, and in the companionship of this
great-hearted man he enjoyed special advantages. Besides
the daughter, Mary Fassett, there was the brilliant and erratic
Henry, who also, " loved of the gods, died young." He
was in boyhood my husband's most intimate friend and com
rade. His mind was like a flashing meteor, suddenly light
ing up the sky and then sinking into impenetrable darkness.
Had he lived, he might have won many a laurel, for a lofty
mind was expressed in every flash of his changing eyes,
which were of the hue of the ocean, now darkly gray, now
softly blue. But he rests with many another noble youth in
the Cold Springs Grounds. For him life's " gaudy, bab
bling and remorseful day has passed." One of the most
magnificent specimens of humanity the Almighty ever pre
sented to the world is Dr. M. S. Kittinger, of Lockport. He
possesses a physique of marble, such as the Wandering Jew
might have possessed in his centuries of travel, on which the
flight of years could trace nothing; a nobility of soul greater
than any diadem could crown ; a constancy in friendship like
that of General Grant, whose name means fidelity. Dr. Kit
tinger went in 1856 to Europe and spent several-years in the
hospitals of the principal cities of the Old World, in Austria,
France and England. In 1861 he became surgeon of a vol-

LOCKPORT. 109
unteer corps and gained thereby much of the valuable ex
perience which has brought him such celebrity. His skill as
a surgeon, his devotion to his profession, would have enabled
him to gain vast wealth had he gone in his youth to some
larger field, but then, perhaps, Caesar was wise when he
said he would rather be king in a little Liberian village than
second in Rome. He has a very attractive family. His first
wife was a lovely, gentle woman, dear to all who knew her.
She was a Miss Laura Day, of Albion, and I first met her at
the house of Dr. Fassett, where we all greatly admired her
brilliant musical attainments. She died at an early age and
left four children, who have been most tenderly cared for.
In addition to the ministry of their devoted grandparents,
Mr. and Mrs. Ferdinand Day, of Albion, they had a double
share of paternal watchfulness.
To this fine array of physicians has in recent years been
added Dr. Rice, who came here from Niagara Falls, and he
makes a formidable recruit to the stalwart band of warriors
in their crusade against disease and pain. Stalwart he is
indeed in all ways, for in politics he is a powerful force and
always for the right. His two pretty daughters, the quiet
Mary and the dashing Anne, are greatly admired and respect
ed. Dr. Rice and Dr. Kittinger were a striking and distin
guished looking pair as they entered the Court House on the
day Mr. Crowley received the nomination for Congress in
June, 1888. I am told those old walls witnessed a memor
able scene that day. It gave the young men, who especially
liked and admired Mr. Crowley, a chance to exhibit their de
votion to him in their contempt for treachery and ingrati
tude. The heroic young blood of the Pomroys, the Keeps,
the Kittingers, the Nicholls, the Westermans, and many
others of our friends, was stirred in a way that will find ex
pression in the future. Nothing arouses latent chivalry like
the base attacks upon true greatness. Foremost in the ranks
of those who fought for the right on that day was Wallace
Dempsey. Like Henry of Navarre, his white plume tow
ered amid the throng. No man could be insensible to the
flattery of the devotion of men like these, and I trust their
own futures will be as bright as they nobly tried to make
ours And, since no brave effort is wasted, perhaps their
triumph is but deferred for a short space, to shine all the
brighter for its brief eclipse. What laurel could be proudly
worn without the struggle for its possession ?

no ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Among the groups of men who congregrated in Mr.
Crowley's office during the campaign, I noticed especially
one pale, thoughful and interesting face. This was Herbert
Harrington, and he was one of my husband's best support
ers. I think some spiritual magnetism drew me to regard
him at that time, for I afterwards learned that his wife w^as
Rosa Levi, one of the dear companions of Maud's childish
days. Rosa, like all her family, was gifted in music, and
Maud from childhood had in that way seemed inspired, and
they played duets together at school, so surely it is not
strange that our lives should be harmonious now. I do not
believe the pretty dark-eyed wife of Herbert Harrington,
though happy now in husband, home and children, will ever
forget the golden-haired angel friend of her school-days,
Maud Crowley. One feature of that struggle was very
marked, and is especially' gratifying to me. It was the ar
dent sympathy of young Irish- Americans with Mr. Crowley,
for, strange to relate, Niagara County has not kept pace
with the rest of the United States in progress of liberality in
regard to race and religion'. From Maine to California,
from the rocky coast of the Atlantic to the smiling shores of
the Pacific, through the rolling prairie, and over the tower
ing mountains, in every district in which a great man dwells,
the people delight to honor him. Ohio sent Garfield for
over seventeen years to speak for her in the House of Rep
resentatives at Washington. But here public opinion seems
to resemble the definition of bigotry -which Fitz-James
O'Brien gave: " The mind of a bigot is like the pupil of the
eye, the more light it receives, the more it contracts."
Both the school-mates and the neighbors and friends, -who
are associated with that period of my life, during my early
housekeeping on Niagara Street, are enshrined in my heart
so deeply that here, in these pages, I wish to pay more than
a passing homage to their names, and if this humble trib
ute should perchance meet the eye of any of their kindred
now surviving them, let these w^ords speak my affection, like
the flowers laid on graves where love and hope lie buried.
The great particular star of those days was Mrs. William
Keep. Beautiful and gifted, with marvelous intellectual en-
downments, she was to me a companion no after years re
placed. The deep interest she always took in my life, the
tender sympathy she felt for me when the Death Angel en
tered into my family, the consolation, the inspiration she was

LOCKPORT. Ill
to me, words are faint and weak to tell. For ten years she
has dwelt in the abode of spirits blest, and when I reach
those gates, which the weariest must find opened to them at
last, beyond those shining portals shall I not find her once
more, and renew the sweet intercourse so cruelly broken
here ? How^ we read and talked together ! In the frost-
bound days, by her fireside, with the outer world shut out,
¦what discourses we held upon history, upon the ceaseless
changes of humanity ! How we reveled in romance and
poetry, in the long summer days in the old-fashioned garden,
among the gorgeous flowers ! Surely no butterflies are seen
now with such brilliant plumage as the ones that fluttered
there from blossom to blossom. In the land of fadeless
flowers, where the Tree of Life is blooming, shall we not
meet again, O, beautiful and steadfast friend ? I never met
any one in whom the ideal and the real, the poetic and the
practical, were so perfectly blended and shaded as in the
character of Mrs. Keep. She seemed to comprehend intui
tively all sides of life, though only the bright one had been
presented to her own gaze. As a wife and mother she was
a marvel of devotion, and the success and happiness of her
children are largely due to her training. Seldom is a fond
mother so worshiped and appreciated! Children are so apt
to take self-sacrificing love as a matter of course, and this is,
to a great extent, natural, t)ut with her family respect and
warmest affection went hand in hand. One and all of them
realized that in her they possessed a treasure more pre
cious than all other good fortune. She was familiar with all
subjects, history, romance and poetry, yet was always inter
ested in the little details which made up the sum of life. Her
presence was in itself so potent a charm that often, after en
trancing hours spent in her society, I have felt that the only
excuse for monopolizing so much of her time would be best
expressed by the poet's apology:
" Ah ! who to sober measurement
Time's happy swiftness brings.
When birds of paradise have lent
Their swiftness to his wings ?"
She left five children, one having died in infancy. Her hus
band, William Keep, had died some years before in 1865.
Her eldest daughter, Sarah R. Keep, now Mrs. Edward P
Beach of New York City, was from childhood just what

1 1 2 ECHOES FROM NIA GAR A.
one might expect the daughter of such a mother to be. If
among her school-mates there was one less fortunate than
the others, poor, or ill, or unhappy, to that one her sweetest
attentions were given. Reared in luxury herself, she had
that sympathy with misfortune which only exquisitely fine
feeling combined with intelligence can bestow. As time
glides on she resembles her mother more and more, and she
so adored that mother that I know this is the very finest com
pliment I can pay her now. And to the other members of
the family I know she has, so far as possible, assumed the
mother's duties. Her husband, Mr. Edward P. Beach, of
New York, is connected with the Canada Southern Rail
road. He is not only a most elegant gentleman in every
sense of the word, but also he is one of the noblest charac
ters I have ever met. I, myself, have seen it put to the test,
and I can but wish the world had many more of the same
stainp. But nature does not give us such' fine specimens of
her craft every day.
He has one son, Mr. Frederic Beach, and if to be popular
makes one happy, then this favorite of fortune should never
know a sad moment. Idolized by his young friends, eagerly
sought after in the very highest circles, both in this country
and abroad, there must, indeed, be about him a most po-wer-
ful personal magnetism. At his birth good fairies must have
attended, and over his fate f orev^ hovers a bright and auspi
cious star. Having early lost two other children, the father
sees his own youth restored and his hopes fulfilled in this
handsome son, in -whose superb figure and remarkable athletic
powers he reads a long life promised. May his shado-w
never grow less ! As the Arabs say, Bismillah ! Frances,
the second daughter, is one of the most delightful compan
ions in the world. She is the typical Frenchwoman of the
salon in her vivacity, her charming esprit and her sympa
thetic qualities. Like her iriother, she is tender at the men
tion of sorrows she can never know by experience. She is
one of the few people one always feels a thrill of the heart at
meeting, whose very name suggests the memories of joyous
hours. To be with her is an exhilaration ! Ah, Frances,
cold indeed would be that heart which would not melt be
neath your smile ! Alice, the youngest daughter, is very
happily married to Mr, Watson Blair, of Chicago, whom his
friends declare to be the prince of good fellows, and in every
way worthy of his lovely wife. But a short time ago I saw

LOCKPORT. 1,3
her, one who had but " fed on the roses, and lain in the liHes
of life" ; two cherub infants, little Beatrix and Rose, lent the
last and most perfect touch to her happy life. But, ah !
that Silent Reaper, whose eye is ever on our fairest blos
soms, plucked them from the young mother's arms, and now
"They bloom in fields of light,
Transplanted by his care.
And saints upon their garments white
The sacred blossoms wear."
A dark-eyed son, the image of his grandsire, now embod
ies her dearest hopes. May he live to be worthy, of the
race to which he belongs, as the very youngest representa
tive. Of Mrs. Keep's own fainily, the Rhoadeses, of Syra
cuse, there is but one surviving, Mr. Joseph Rhoades, of
Lockport, an artist of high culture and one of nature's nobil-
-ity. If one believes in the doctrine of the soul's transmigra
tion, one would surely think him to have been an Oriental
prince, or a Roman patrician in the days when the seven-
hilled city ruled the world, when highest art and luxury pre
vailed. The dreamy life he leads always seemed to me like
the echo of a past life so ordered that care, disease and death
were almost unknown. Generous and kind, and devoted to
his friends, his society is always eagerly sought by young
and old.. Ambition, that quenchless fire, has never disturbed
his enjoyment. I believe the only account he will have
to render at the final settlement will be to answer the ques
tion, "Joseph, what hast thou done with the talents I gave
thee ? " But, if the penalty should prove too harsh, there
would be so many just inside the pearly gates, whose happi
ness would not be complete without him. Saint Peter would
say, " Pass in, your loved ones are watching for you." I
fancy that Raphael and Michael Angelo would take him by
the hand and say, " Brother, at last, after long years of visions
and hopes, behold your dreams ! " The Keep family will be
celebrated in America's annals for their magnificent success
in business, their unimpeachable integrity and their tremen
dous industry. What a country we would have if such men
were more numerous ! William Keep was the eldest of the
brothers who settled here in Lockport. There were seven
in all, two of whom, Albert and Henry, became residents of
Chicago. They are famous in the western world of finance.
Chauncey, Charles, Augustus and George have been prominent

1X4 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
here for many years. George has recently transferred his
business to Chicago, but keeps his home here. He would
be very much missed, should he detach himself from us alto
gether, for he is exceedingly popular and is a most loyal man
in friendship, and a valued member of his church. He is an
active and earnest Republican. When he came to his old
home to ^•ote, he did not join the ranks of the traitors, who,
for personal jealousy alone, united with the Democrats to de
feat a man towards whom they felt the sentiments Shake
speare ascribes to Cassius: " Such men as these be never at
heart's ease while they behold a greater than themselves."
The 'Keep brothers came here in 1834, from Homer, in
this state, a place to which our town owes several of its
bright particular stars who will shine in the records of its
posterity, William Keep was a magnificent looking man.
His face had somewhat of the cast of the great Napoleon.
In its massive features could be read the determined will and
the strong intelligence which produced such great results in
his life and those of his descendants. Yet in his home he
yvas devoted and indulgent, and his sudden death, which
occurred in 1865, was a terrible calamity to his family, which
consisted of the wife and three daughters I have mentioned,
and two sons, William and Frederic. They have inherited
many of his best characteristics, and have been for many
years living in Chicago, where they occupy a most "enviable
place in both the commercial and social world. On their
visits to their native town, for which they still cherish a fond
and flattering esteem, they are always warmly welcomed by
troops of relatives and friends of their happy childhood's
days. And 'tis here their honored parents sleep, and though,
since the sad day they gently laid their dear mother to rest,
they have roamed over many a distant land, nor time, nor
change, nor newer loves, can turn their thoughts from that
mother's grave. " 'Twas the earliest link in love's warm chain;
'Tis the only one that will long remain."
How well I remember the joyous hospitality of their home !
As the fabled waters of Lethe were said to bestow forget-
fulness, so, standing on that familiar doorstep, even before
crossing the threshold, I have felt my cares folding their
wings and leaving me to revel in the sunny hours of perfect
love, in a blissful companionship that was at once soothing

LOCKPORT. 115
to the heart and inspiring to the intellect. When these
children come to gaze, in the intervals of the passing years,
upon those old walls, they must feel that
" There's a rift in lifers heautiiul music,
A shadow across its bright sun.
And a dirge in the tremulous zephyrs
' That girdle their boyhood's home;
There's a pall o'er the dear old homestead.
The light of its altar hath fled;
The mother, its ministering angel.
Lies sleeping the sleep of the dead."
William resembles his father in feature, and Frederic in
figure. They are both such fine, manl}- characters! Such
firm friends, and such genial companions! The industry and
self-denial they have practiced would furnish a worthy model
for many a young man not born in the purple. For,
although they were perfectly well aware that they inherited
a competence, they commenced in just as unassuming a way
as though their lives were dependent on their own exertions,
and they were compelled to take for a motto:
" Perseverantia omnia vincit,"
From their mother's poetic nature was transmitted to them
the power to adorn the practical side of life with the bright
leaves of sentiment. I know that every little verse dear to
her has been carefully treasured by them in a way that
evinces the finest depth of feeling. Fancy's golden rays thus
cast a gracious halo over the beautiful past, gently illumine
the busy days of the present, and point to a still fairer future
in the Ufe eternal ! Chauncey Keep, a remarkably fine-look
ing man, also, like his brother William, passed away in the
very prime of life. He left a charming family, which con
sisted, besides his wife, of two lovely daughters, and a very
promising son. The two sisters have always seemed to me
a lovely contrast, Gertrude so dreamy, so pensive and
poetic, and Sal lie so bright and captivating. Their types of
beauty, too, are different. Gertrude has the Greek head and
profile, and Sallie the dark sparkling eyes and clustering
curls of the Italian women. In character they are a happy
combination of the romantic temperament of the mother,
with the fine judgment and discretion for which their
father's familv are renowned, Sallie married Mr, William

II 6 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Harrison Brown, of Philadelphia, a man whom his associates
always describe as generous and noble in all ways, in
business and in social life. Of late they have spent most of
their time in Paris, owing to the foreign investments of the
firm in New York which he represents. Edward Kirke
Keep is a most interesting compound of the best qualities of
the two families from whom he traces his descent. He has
the Keep caution, judgment and prudence, and he has a
heritaige of the ideal from the mother's side.
Mrs. Chauncey Keep is a very handsome woman, pos
sessed of marvelous health and superb physique, and en
dowed by nature with all the qualities to make her a leader
in society. She is a type of which we can not have too
many, and who confer a grace and elegance upon the place
in which they live. A delightful hostess and a sincere
friend, she fulfills well the mission of a charming woman.
Her mother, Mrs. Center, retains at a very advanced age the
brilliant qualities of her mind. Her brother, the Rev.
Mr. Kirke, of Boston, an eloquent divine, probably trans
mitted his higher qualities with his name to Edward Kirke
Keep. Perhaps, too, the spirit of the youthful Sarah
Voorhees, the aunt who died long ago, may have inspired
him with that love of the Muses of whose influence over her
own brief life she has left such a lovely record. At all
events, he is well equipped for the changing scenes of life's
theater, the capacity of joy for its carnival, as evinced by his
impassioned love of music, the power to deny himself for
some special object, the philosophy to sum up its various
chances and choose the best, and, above all, the soul and
courage to stand by the right, to defend his friends from
base attacks, and win for himself, with their gratitude, some
thing higher and nobler, the sanction of his own conscience
and the approving smile of Heaven! Charles Keep, who
has steadily resided here since 1834, would be a distinguished
man in any field he might choose to take. He has also
mixed with the prosaic details of an every-day business life
a pronounced taste for literature. Familiar with all the
standard writers of fiction and poetry, he has developed in
his sons a taste for classic learning that their high records at
college have well illustrated. His wife is a very fascinating
woman, and comes of a fine Boston family, the Crocketts.
There were ten of them in all, brothers and sisters, and
I was always deeply interested in their special histories.

LOCKPORT. 117
several of which would have formed little romances of them
selves. One sister, Mrs. Gr^laud, always possessed for me a
most peculiar and mystic charm. Her pretty daughters,
Marie and Aurora, are well remembered here, also the
daughter of another sister. Hartley Dana, whose early death
was deeply regretted. Mrs. Charles Keep has been noted
for her amiable role of reconciling rival factions, in which
she has specially excelled. " Blessed are the peace-makers !"
Augustus Keep is the only unmarried brother, and is
therefore claimed by all the nephews and nieces as their
especial and favorite uncle on the father's side. I remember,
when I was a child, that I thought he resembled the pictures
of the Caesars copied from Roman coins and shown in the
pages of the School History, and the ver}- unassuming life
he lives now may be in contrast with some former incarna
tion of lavish splendor. His manner, reserved to strangers,
is very friendly and kind to those whom he knows well, and
his charities are numerous and unheralded. He has all the
integrity of his race, and is capable of the most steadfast
friendship. Noblesse oblige. Mrs. William Keep and the
wife of Judge Hiram Gardner were like fond sisters, and her
memory is still, and will ever be, tenderly cherished in that
family. This is one of several reasons why I hold them in
admiring recollection. When I was their near neighbor so
long ago, the aged father of Mrs. Gardner, Deacon Scoville,
lived with them, and it was lovely to see the eldest daughter,
Anna, now Mrs. Ashley Smith, supporting the failing foot
steps of the good grandsire. He often came to see me and
tried to chain my wandering thoughts to the future state,
and sometimes I would say, in alluding to the suffering
caused by the death of loved ones, "Why does God allow
all this ?" He would shake his head slowly and reply, "_My
dear child, our finite minds can not comprehend the infinite."
As the leaves in the book of life unfold, some bright, some
darkly shaded, how we come to feel the truth of this !
Judge Gardner came to Lockport in 1822, and can therefore
be counted as one of the eminent pioneers of the city. He
could remember the log cabins, where now stand stately
dwelUngs; the flourishing places of business, where he saw
the bear, the wolf and the deer driven from their haunts by
the first settlers; the great Erie Canal coursing through the

tiS ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
path hewn out by human genius and energy through the
solid rock and dense forest, and the advent of our illustrious
guest, the Marquis de Lafayette, the very thought of whose
visit sheds a glory over the waters which bore him on his
journey through the land he had helped to deliver from
tyranny's chain. He was constantly honored with important
offices, having been successively Assemblyman, Surrogate,
County Judge and Canal Commissioner. He was a success
ful lawyer for a great many years, and one of the most
highly respected members of the Presbyterian Church.
Judge Gardner possessed in a marked degree the fine chival
ric manner of the old school. He was most courteous to the
plain, the feeble and the aged. A true Christian spirit
accounted for this, I believe. Somebody says "Christ was
the first true gentleman that ever breathed." Without 'a
pure and lofty soul, the finest chivalry is impossible. Lord
Chesterfield, though the model of elegance in his time, was
yet not truly a gentleman, because through all the polished
suavity of his famous letters there breathes the spirit of
heartlessness and licentiousness. Though a sort of Puritan
firmness pervaded the happy household of the Gardner*, yet
in their blooming garden the peonies and hollyhocks flaunted
their blood-red silken banners to the wanton breeze and
nodded temptingly through the hedges to the passers-by.
The first thrilling poem I ever learned to repeat was given
to me by Mrs. Gardner, and I still think it beatiful. It is now
quite widely known, and it is called "Mona's Waters."
" Oh, Mona's waves are blue and bright.
When the sun shines out like a gay young lover,
But Mona's waves are dark as night
When the face of heaven is clouded over."
Thus begins the sad little melody, which tells in touching
verse of the drowning of a widow's only son. And when
gold is offered to her in recompense for the life of her child
she replies: " Can gold bring back my darling boy ?
Go back and seek your mountain home.
And when you kiss your fair-haired daughter.
Remember him who sleeps to-night
Beneath the waves of- Mona's water."
Her gentle and kindly heart keeps her almost unchanged
by time, and she is now in her old age as fondly sheltered as

LOCKPORT. 119
in youth from the storms of life by her devoted daughters
and her sons-in-law, one of whom, the popular and manly
Mr. Carl Jackson, is really the staff of her declining vears.
He practices charmingly and faithfully the fourth 'com
mandment: "Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy
days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God
hath given thee." His own father, the genial Mr.
James Jackson, is also well worthy of filial devotion.
I always think of him as the kind friend of my brother
James, whom all the prominent Democrats of that time
regarded as one of their most promising young orators,
and many of them believed him to be destined to a brilliant
leadership in the future. But the bright star of the morning
.sunk early here to rise upon a fairer land. The name of the
Hon. James Jackson is well known in the Democratic party
throughout the state. Had he not been so absorbed in
business, he might often have led them on to victory in his
own city. All the fine qualities which attract men, the
cordial manner, the benevolent disposition, the broad mind
so free from bigotry, are combined in this attractive and
popular gentleman. His wife was one of Niagara's beauties,
and shares with him the affection of a large band of devoted
friends. Another dear friend of James Corbitt was Mr.
Solon Pomroy, the editor of the Democratic paper here, a
man of culture, broad mind, and depth of feeling. He was
so close to that brother that his name and life will ever be
held gratefully in his sister's memory. The gifted lawyer,
Mr. William Farnell, was James' partner at the time just
preceding his death. Not all the vicissitudes of time have
caused me to forget the pleasures I felt when, soon after we
were installed in our little cottage on Niagara Street, we
received a visit one evening from Judge Levi F. Bowen, and
his beautiful and stately wife. It was under his guidance
and supervision that my husband and brother had both first
tasted of the spring of legal learning, and it is still his sage
counsel and his kind sympathy we seek in times of war or
sorrow. We are indebted to the town of Homer for this
eminent gentleman, for he came from there in 1832. He
has adorned many positions of trust and honor; no title could
decorate him now. His nephew, Mr. George W. Bowen,
has been in business partnership with hiin for many years,
and the honored Judge must feel that in him he has a worthy
successor to his fame and the judicial ermine. Should the

I20 ECftOES FROM NIAGARA.
mantle of his uncle fall uporl him, its spotless folds would be
as faithfully and proudly worn as now. George Bowen is
incapable of any action that is not noble and true. He
rejoices in the success of his friends, and is especially
delighted when one of the Judge's "boys " makes a name in
the world. The serpents of malice may hiss and threaten,
but they are utterly powerless to fasten one fang on lives so
spotless and so guarded by love and reverence. The wife
and daughters of George Bowen have done much to brighten
the society of Lockport. They are noted for their charming
entertainments and their unchanging courtesy to their friends
through all circumstances, be they clouded or bright with
hope's rosy hues. Kind attentions, though sweet in
youth's golden hours, are sweeter still in the mournful time
when the fair buds of life's promise seem blighted, and we
find persecution where we looked for consolation.
George Washington says in his Social Maxims: "True
friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and
withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the
appellation." Among my earliest friends now brightly
shines in memory's light the name of Marks. Mr. and Mrs.
Silas H. Marks and their children have always held a high
and honored place in Niagara's annals. They came here
from Connecticut in 1836, and were always most acti\e in
church, business and social life. In the first organization of
any company likely to benefit the village of that day, Silas
H.. Marks stood foremost, and it is to such men as he that we
are indebted for the first impetus given to our most important
movements. Fine-looking, dignified and affable, of great
intelligence combined with kindness of heart, he commanded
the esteem of every one and the warm attachment of many.
Charles Marks, the only son, perished on the threshold of
manhood. The two daughters, Emma and Abbie, remained
to console the parents and reflect luster on their early training
and example. Emma's path has been cloudless and prosper
ous, but who could have foretold that Abbie's lovely dark
eyes would be doomed to shed such bitter tears? Emma's
husband is the son of Luman H. Nicholls, who was a native
of Albany County, in this state, and a successful lawyer
here. Mark Nicholls is capable of heroic and steadfast
friendship, and has a most unmitigated contempt for all
that is base and mean. He agrees with the man who said :
" Ingratitude is the basest of crimes," and, like Augustus

LOCKPORT. 121
Caesar, he can not " commend traitors." Only a few days
since I attended the funeral of his lovely sister, Mrs. Robert
Lewis, of Rochester. Greatly was she beloved and long
will she be mourned. Yet we might have known she could
not stay longer in this cold world, for, as Gertrude Keep,
one of her dearest friends, observed, " she belonged to 3'outh."
" She was not made
Through years or moons the inner weight to bear.
Which colder hearts endure till they are laid
By age in earth ; her days and pleasures were
Brief, but delightful, such as had not staid
Long with her destiny ; but she sleeps well."
Fred, the bright and fascinating younger brother, died in
life's morning, and there are now left, besides Mark, Carrie
the pretty sister, so early widowed, and Burr, the gifted
artist brother, who has of late years lived mostly in Europe,
and whom I always thought to resemble strongly the por
traits of Edgar Allan Poe.
Close beside me on Niagara Street lived dear Mrs. Emeline
Webber, on the one side, and the Pullmans on the other.
When I was trying mj- newly-fledged wings in housekeep
ing and facing the trials of life generally, I wonder what I
should have done without the cheerful Christian counsel of
Mrs. Webber and Mrs, Luce, the daughter of the Pullmans.
Lovely spirits they were and are, accepting all things without
a murmur, and breathing in every act of life the belief of
Him who doeth all things well. General Watson Webber,
the eldest son of his widowed mother, was a rarely gifted
man. With fine taste in literature and pleasing manners, he
was an ornament to his nati\-e city. It was his mother's fate
to see him depart before her into eternal life, as well as the
two younger brothers, Alfred and Luman, Only one,
'Edward, is left to cheer her last days, and he dwells afar in
the prairies of the great West, Mrs. Luman Webber mar
ried some years ago a young gentleman of whom Lockport
was especially proud, and justly so, William Bruce Douglass.
I remember telling him once that his chosen flower should be
the edelweiss, as it represented noble purity. So courteous
and so affable was he that no one would have suspected, on
first meeting him, that he was the idol of a fond father and
indulged in e^¦erv wish. To that father he was deeply in
debted for more "than mere wealth could bestow, for the same

1 2 2 ECHOES FROM NIA GAR A.
knightly air might be observed in both. Asa Dtjuglass,
George H. Boughton and John Jackson represented in their
time fine qualities, which their descendants inherited and of
which they are entitled to boast, if the pride of ancestry
should be allowed here, and so far as it relates to noble traits
like these, I think it should be honored everywhere. Mrs.
Webber and Mrs. Luce were so fond of my darling Maud,
and hence they will ever be remembered by me in the fondest
and most grateful way. Sweet were these blossoms of affec
tion that clustered around my early path. And there was
Mrs. Ensign, with her flashing black eyes, her wit and
gayety, with beauty and mind enough to gain attention any
where. Where is she now ? How strangely our ways di
verge, sometimes to be so strangely re-united.
How often, in describing friends, or recounting the stories
of their lives, one feels how far short of the reality all paint
ings of pictures in language must necessarily be. This
strikes me as I now attempt to portray the Hon. Sullivan
Caverno and his family. The artist, if he succeed well, not
only gives us the outward semblance, but can catch the fleet
ing expression of the immortal mind, and stamp forever on
the canvas the impress of the soul. The sculptor, though
his statue bears the fixed repose of death, can yet recall in its
mold the familiar Hnes, and suggest thought imprisoned in
its marble brow, but a description in words can never repro
duce the departed glory of those we would fain make live
again in our story. Mr. Caverno was the pioneer of classic
learning in this place. It was his hand that first offered the
waters of the Pierian Spring to the eager lips of many, who
might have lived on without the most priceless blessing of
this world, education. It was largely through his arduous
efforts, and contending against much prejudice, that we ob
tained our Union School, which has sent out so many bright
and successful people to life's larger school. Before this the
log school-houses were almost the only ones here, and teachers
as well as pupils labored under great disadvantages, though
many brilliant stars shone then in both capacities. The last
of these picturesque landmarks I remember is the one which
stood, until quite recently, near the Maloney farm, some few
miles out on East Avenue, and located near a pleasant bit of
woods. It has vanished with many another memento of
those days connected with the family, who -were among the
earliest and kindest friends of my parents. How true it is

LOCKPORT. 123
that, as the shadows on life's dial point towards the ending of
our day, our thoughts turn to our first impressions and the
people connected with them. Who, that has stood mourn
fully by the death-bed of kindred, has not observed that on
the threshold of immortality the mind constantly sees pictured
the scenes of early days? Though my father was but a
youth of one-and-twenty when he crossed the ocean to
America, in his last illness he talked all the while of his boy
hood in Ireland and described scenery and events with a
wondrous and vivid power. To my mother the brief bright
days passed in her native village of Kilfenora were fresher in
her dying eyes than all the long years in America, which
seemed to have been but a forgotten dream. I was at these
times reminded of an expression which occurs in a famous
drama, uttered at the sad death of the heroine: " She speaks
of things long past, a fatal, fatal sign!"
In addition to his great learning, Mr. Caverno possessed
the most genial qualities as a friend and host. Not alone do
I judge now of the entire family by my early love and ad
miration for them, for then my natural enthusiasm might
have swayed my judgment, but a wider knowledge of the
world, and comparisons -with many who have attained
celebrity have endorsed my first opinion and given it the seal
of a truthful homage. The whole family sparkled with wit
and gayety. The diamonds of their discourses formed a per
petual libation, which did not need the actual dissolving of a
jewel, like Cleopatra's famous pearl, which she drank to the
health of Antony. Ah! Mr. Caverno:
" In Attica thy birthplace should have been ;
Homer had been thy friend, or Socrates,
And Plato welcomed thee to his demesne."
Always associated with the thoughts of old days at the
Union School is Mr. Atwater, the teacher of mathematics.
He was beloved by all the pupils for his unfaiHng kindness
and patience. As I meet him occasionally now, I observe
that Time, as if to reward him, scarcely leaves upon him the
shadow of the swiftly revolving years.
Among the most distinguished of the old regime were the
two daughters of Judge Holmes, Helen and Fanny. Helen
is a brilliant woman and would adorn the most exalted
position, but I have no doubt she is perfectly contented as the
wife of the cultivated and noble gentleman, Edwin A.

124 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Charlton, at that time Principal of the Union. On Fanny
the Muses had smiled, and her lovely verses will never be
forgotten by her cotemporaries. Their surpassing ability
can be readily traced to. their father, the Hon, Alfred
Holmes, the oldest living practitioner of the law in Niagara
County. He belongs to a type we see passing away with
great regret. Ardent and true in politics, utterly free from
the trickery and meanness of too many of the modern would-
be politicians, he stands, a spotless record behind him, at the
advanced age of eighty-five years, close to the sunset of life,
close to the sunrise of eternity. We could wish that such
noble souls might linger far beyond the span of human days,
for their influence is precious, their help in times of need is
glorious, and sustains the despairing, and comforts the
persecuted. Fortunate in spite of everything is he who can
count among his friends the Hon. Alfred Holmes, To
cheer his declining days are left here his faithful daughter,
Lizzie, and the talented and noble Kate, who married Mr,
Calvin Haines, a man who has the courage to stand by his
friends when they are, as the soldiers say, under fire.
Another Principal of the old Union, whom I remember
with grateful friendship, is Prof. B. M. Reynolds. He
was blessed with a reinarkably gifted wife. Still an
other, since more widely known in woman's fast advancing
field, is Mrs. Belva Lockwood. She was for some time the
Preceptress, a position she filled most admirably. Perfectly
just in her judgment, kind and encouraging to her pupils,
she parted from them as friends for her lifetime. Miss
Sarah Ransom was one of the favorite teachers at that time.
I remember, when she married and went to the West, how
the pupils grieved, and it really was a parting forever in this
world, for her useful and lovely life was soon cut short by
the shears of the fatal sisters:
"Clotho, and Lachesis, whose boundless sway.
With Atropos, both men and gods obey. ' '
Mercilessly do they continue to snap the threads of this
family's lives. For of late, within a short space of time,
three have gone, the lovely Cherrill, the father, and the
handsome and genial Frank. The one who was my school
mate still survives, Washington H. Ransom, and I can truth
fully say that time and sorrow have dealt gently with him.

LOCKPOR T. 1 25
and that he has well kept the promise of his bright and
studious youth. No one could have a higher sense of duty,
and no one could despise cant and hypocrisy more than
" Wash." Ransom. His wife. Miss Kate Stickney, was one
of the many charming girls who went to the " Old Union "
at that time, i860, 1861 and 1862; and there was also the
handsome Nell Keith, whose chestnut braids and rosy cheeks
were the admiration of all. How, to this day, I remember
the facility with which she worked out the problems in
algebra, over which I struggled long and vainly. Still an
other, whose cheek was like ripe peaches, was Maria Rogers,
who married handsome Charlie Brown. These two were
among the first to show their deep sympathy for me when
Maud was taken. And, alas! since then the same sorrow has
stricken them. It was well we could not know in those care
less school-days. Full soon are the mystic pages unrolled,
and yet the solvingof the problem lies far beyond. Charlie
did not take all the beauty of the Brown family, for his two
sisters, Julia and Fanny, were perfect little pictures.
How many times have I said that, among all those early
friends, not one was more amiable than Annie Aiken, now
Mrs. Moses Brady. She is the same sweet, gentle soul still,
and her husband is in every way worthy of the trust and
friendship in which he is held. Another school-mate with
whom friendship's tie has never been broken i^ Sarah Rey
nolds, now Mrs. Matthew Witbeck, of the Commercial.
The Witbecks are one of the oldest and most respected fam
ilies in Niagara. John Witbeck was one of the popular
pioneer landlords, and those who were for any length of time
his guests always felt a strong regard for him and for his
family. One daughter married Mr. William Jenney, and
they have for many years been our nearest neighbors. I
do not beHeve that Mr. Jenney has an enemy in the world.
Even religion and politics, those subjects on which like rocks
in the ocean, which cause ships to sink, many a friendship
has been shattered, have never caused him to lose a friend.
As a family they are generally beloved, and as they have al
ways been ready with their kind ministrations in times of
trial, so in their dark hours the whole city felt shadowed.
What a different world we would have if all people were
thus true to the Golden Rule! But for this we must wait
till the Millennium. _ ^ i: , 1 r.
In an old album, in handwriting somewhat faded after a

126 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
lapse of more than a quarter of a century, I have the names
of those who left the •' Old Union" with me. The Graduat
ing Class of 1862. Of these 'names two at least are now
traced upon the silent tomb, those of John B. Heroy and
Helen M. Bouck. Ella Williams and Mary Squires have
staid on within those classic walls and watched other classes
come and go, other forms take the places of the scattered
and departed ones. Their lives are, indeed, worthily spent,
for I think there is no higher earthly mission than that of
the teacher! None which demands nobler minds. Prof.
Ashur B. Evans, the present Principal of the school, has
occupied the position for many years. He is celebrated as a
mathematician as well as a classic scholar, and the constant
improvement of the school is greatly due to his wise and
careful supervision. The scientific bent of his mind reaches
in many directions, for he is one of the oracles concerning
geology and botany in' this region. Nature has given to him
many of her rarest secrets, hidden from the ordinarj' gaze.
To the eye of genius alone she discloses the open sesame to
her mysteries! As a friend he is staunch and true, as a
Christian, free from bigotry. He is fearless in expressing
his opinion in the cause of the right, and, like Lord Nelson,
when once his colors are nailed to the mast, there they stay,
and no»fear of storms or unjust criticism ever tempts him to
tear them down. His charming wife is a descendant of
Lockport's first surveyor, Jesse P. Haines, and the sweet
Quaker virtues inherited from that good line are still reflected
in her bright face. Like her husband, she loves to see merit
in others, and, as the gold-seeker digs into the ground and
the diver goes to the depths for pearls, so these people search
for the gold and gems of the mind and find beauty where
others are blind. But there are none so blind as those who
do not choose to see.
The first school I attended after the primary was one pre
sided over by Mr. Fitts, the father of Major James Fitts.
The time is fixed in my mind as being associated with my
first knowledge of dates and years, which he impressed in a
peculiar way. I noticed in a New Year's address the poetic
license of the expression :
"And down the hill sped '53."
I asked him what this meant, and he explaind to me the
legend of the flying years. Many a one has since flown fty.

LOCKPORT. 127
yet I do not forget thee, gentle guide! I think he possessed
the very genius of teaching, and he led me through the
mazes of grammar as though it were a path of flowers, and
the goal were some enchanted land. It has been said there
is no royal road to learning, but I know there is, for I
walked there witb my first feeble childish footsteps under
the inspiration of my dear friend and teacher, Mr. Fitts. He
soon after departed for other fields, and so I have always
missed something I might have achieved had he st^'ed
longer. Of late, they tell me, he had lived long in the sun
lit lands of the Pacific. Perhaps in that magical atmosphere
he found Youth's Elixir and tasted in advance the jo\ s of
Paradise, for he lived happily and in the perfect possession
of all his rare qualities of heart and head to a xerv advanced
age, and very shortly before his death sent to his son, in fine',
clear handwriting, a copy of his favorite po^m, Mrs. Bar-
bauld's Life: " Life, we have been long together
Through pleasant and through stormy weather ;
'Tis hard to part when friends are dear ;
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear.
Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time ;
Say not Good Night, but in some brighter clime
Bid me Good Morning."
And, says the son in his biographical sketch, " The lines that
he so d'early loved were strangely prophetic of his own quiet
and peaceful end." His son, James Franklin Fitts, is one of
the best of our modern writers of fiction. In some of his
later stories one feels absolutely acquainted with the principal
characters. Whence comes the wondrous power to evoke,
as by the wand of a magician, such creations, living, suffer
ing, dying, leaving a positive sense of loss? To one gifted
with this strange spell the surroundings of every-day life are
as nothing; they are the dream; in the mind dwells the reality.
They are but shadows, the substance is elsewhere. Slaves
of the lamp, as the literati are sometimes called ; they have the
power, like Aladdin, to rear around them the palaces, not of
earthly splendors, but of thought, where the soul can revel,
free from the galling chains which often fetter their lives.
There no earthly cares can enter, no boding fears disturb
them. Is it not somewhat symbolic of the houses not built
with hands promised to us by the inspired writers of old?

128 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
" In my Father's house are many mansions ; if it were not
so, I would have told you." His wife is the lovely and
amiable Harriet Gooding, whose sister Mary, Mrs. Edward
Williamson, was one of the dearest and most attractive of my
school-mates. Ed. Williamson is one of the finest and
most loyal souls God ever sent to this vaje of tears. I have
often observed that great affliction is sure to have one of these
two effects: either it will embitter the disposition, and cause
one to look with an utter absence of charity on all people, or
it will sweeten and broaden the character. And this is the
result of Ed. Williamson's illness. To a heart naturally warm
and tender, and a soul incapable of petty jealousy, has been
added the perfecting touch. Fit now for the company of
angels is he who never had an unkind thought or word for
any of his fellow-pilgrims on the way to the final rest.
Then, later, there was Mrs. Ralston's school, designed
more to enshrine the rosebuds of society until the hour arrived
for their proper and brilliant blooming. She might have
been appropriately styled the lapidary, for the gems sent to
her gained a polish and a luster no other hand could bestow.
Certainly I feel eternally indebted to her for the impressions
she made on my life and character, and for the gracious in
terest she ever took in me. Her sweet words of praise and
encouragement have never ceased to help and inspire me.
" And from those days serene and far,
Her voice falls like a falling star.
Excelsior. ' '
How often in the storms of these later years have I w^ished
that these school friendships could all have remained un
broken ! Alas, that aught should ever have been permitted
to cloud the dazzling rays with which they shone on life's
gay morning.
Of those who have carefully studied the Geological His
tory of Niagara County are prominent the names of Othniel
Marsh, Professor Evans, Doctor Grosvenor, Doctor Clark and
Doctor Tryon. Othniel Marsh and my husband were boys to
gether, and in their school-day experiences there was little to
denote the great extent of research in this special direction
which Mr. Marsh has since achieved. He is now Professor of
Palaeontology in Yale College, a place created for him, thus
standing at the very head of this great branch of science,
which, speaking with its huge monuments of the silent con-

LOCKPORT. 129
cretion of countless ages, tells of myriad lives before our own.
His uncle, the great English philantropist, George Peabody,
was deeply interested in the life-work of his distinguished
nephew. I remember, when Dr. Grosvenor came here from
New England as teacher of the natural sciences at the
Union School, how we all wondered at his profound interest
in plants, and bugs, and stones. How eager he was to search
into the secrets of the universe! Mary Fassett, the daughter
of the Doctor, was his first wife, and his present wife was
once the charming Maria Van Horn. She also has a beauti
ful sister, Mrs. Hugh Rose, of Buffalo. Their father, Mr.
John Van Horn, was one of the foremost politicians here
many years ago. Dr. Walter A. Tryon, too, always had an
innate love of the beautiful, and Nature spoke to him in all
her various languages. He concludes his fine essay on " The
Fossils of the Niagara Epoch " with these words, alluding to
the time when the land we tread on was a vast sea, as
evinced by the unerring prints of the successive epochs:
" Though this ancient ocean teemed with a curious life, yet
it was a silent, lonely waste of waters. No bird sported over
its bosom, or dipped its crest in its slumbering surface. No
animal haunted its lonely barren shores. Yet in these mj's-
terious waters the processes of laying the foundations of a
vast continent were going on. Slowly beneath that wide
spread sea corals, crinoids and molluscs were elaborating the
rocky material of a vast tract that, after the lapse of an al
most infinite period of time was to teem with a life and an
activity immensel}- superior to the creatures v\'hich laid the
stepping-stones on which we tread to-day. Yet such are the
ways of the Infinite Creator. More than 2,500 feet of solid
rock, deposited out of the sea teeming with lower forms of
life, and preserving in its rocky strata the petrified forms of
their existence, contain God's record of what has been, and
which lies beneath the feet, and the line of ascent of him
"who proudly treads above them now." Geologists prove that
N iagara Falls have gradually moved from Lewiston to their
present position.
In the picturesque road which winds into lower Lockport
is pointed out to the traveler the ancient site of what in early
days was called Rattlesnake Hill. That such a place could
have existed so long, and the deadly denizens crawled around
the streets of the village to the wild alarm of the first settlers,
proves that Lockport really needed the ministrations of Saint

130 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Patrick, who freed the Emerald Isle forever from this foe to
Eden's bowers. Baleful creatures, whose permitted exist
ence is a mystery ! Symbols of all that is most detestable
and deplorable in human nature! Would that I could say
that from my native village all things emblematic of these
pioneer marauders were also eradicated. But as long as jeal
ousy and malice flourish and combine against true greatness,
so long will Rattlesnake Hill be morethan a hideous mem
ory of the past, with the difference that now, as in the days
when Eve walked unsuspecting in the radiant groves of Par
adise, the serpents wore the guise of angels of light and dis
guised the native hiss under the honeyed words of love.
Burke, the peerless Irish orator, was once the subject of *a
witty impromptu, in allusion to Saint Patrick's banishing of
the snakes: " Oft is it wondered that on Irish ground
No poisonous reptile has as yet been found;
Revealed the secret stands of Nature's work:
She saved her venom to create a Burke."
Pleasant recollections of the early taverns and their genial
hosts are connected closely with our childish days, and prin
cipally the old Pavilion, where I played in those happy
hours with Ella Tenbrook. To me it then seemed like the
Moorish palace of the Alhambra, and I never now pass its
still familiar walls without the reflection that all things in
this transitory world are as we view them for the time, and
are but the reflection of our own minds. If -we have been
happy at any particular place, as I was with the Tenbrook
family at the Pavilion, there is always a charm around it,
even in decay ; but if we have been miserable, an air of gloom
will always pervade the spot associated with our unhappi-
ness, perhaps through no fault of its own. There Andrew,
the eldest son, is now the proprietor, with his wife, the pretty
Barbara, and on a visit I paid to them last summer I could
hear the " leaves of memory " rustling with ghostly whispers
as I thought of the many vanished forms that had once gaily
passed through those doors. There was the old Coffee-
House near my own home, where, as I have heard my par
ents tell, in pioneer times the stage-coaches stopped with the
mail, before we could boast of a post-office. We had not
advanced to the possession of a John Hubbard in those days,
the most perfect of postmasters. Sears Dickerson was in

LOCKPORT. 131
his native town of Dickersonville, and the mazes of politics
were an unknown quantity of the future in his untroubled
dreams. To those two men the words loyal, brave and true
inseparably cling in my mind. The Old Coffee-House is
now occupied by the family of William Wicker, one of the
purest and best of our first citizens. Colonel Frank Wicker,
the eldest son, has had, perhaps, the most eventful life of any
of the family, having passed many years in travel and army
life. He married the beautiful Miss Harriet Spalding in
early youth, and she is still very handsome.
The Washington House was renowned as having been
once honored with the presence of the Marquis de Lafayette.
It was burned in 1865, the year Lockport became a city, and
also the year of the assassination of our heroic Lincoln. It
was certainly according to the fitness of things that the illus
trious Frenchman should have come to the house named for
his noble friend. The host and hostess of that memorable
time were Mr. and Mrs. Ezekiel Colburn, the adopted
parents of Mrs. Edward I. Chase, whose own name was
Metcalf. The hotel itself was built by her father, Mr.
Henry H. Metcalf, in the year 1823, and her grandfather,
Mr. William M. Bond, gave the land for the old Court-
House, and the tract donated also embraced the land on
which the new Court-House now stands. Surely from the
archives of the past his name should be recalled with
gratitude !
When the French hero came to this town, the canal was
not quite completed, though some portions of it were navi
gable; still the solid walls of stone on either side were being
severed by the undermining blast. It was as though Nature
spoke with a mighty voice in response to the resistless march
of mankind. We had no cannon then, for the war was
ended, and Lafayette came to observe the effect of peace
and liberty on the land for which he fought so well. But
some salute must be given besides the welcoming shouts of
the people. The workmen, more in sympathy than all
others with this disciple of Liberty, arranged that a tremen
dous blast should shake the skies at the appearance of the
honored guest. "Ah!" exclaimed the Marquis, as he heard
it in surprise, "the very rocks rend to salute me!" Thus in
thunder tones spoke the laborers on the Erie Canal to the
man who had helped to make a refuge for the down-trodden,
the victims of tyrants everywhere! Thus yet will rend the
last monument of oppression, and the liberator, not the op-

132 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
pressor, be served and defended. Not only did they have no
cannons at that early period, but they also had not arrived
generally at the luxury of possessing carpets. The only one
in the place was owned by Morris H. Tucker, the father-in-
law of our distinguished townsman, Mr. John Hodge. This
was brought out and laid on the street at the point where the
visitor was to alight. The horses were driven up to it, and
thus the renowned Lafayette first pressed his foot on a
carpet in the possession of a man destined to be nearly con
nected with him, who since has crowned our city with glory.
For no one can say this is not true of Mr. John Hodge. It
needs no glamour of childish romance now to see great and
beautiful changes here in Lockport, wrought principally by
his magic skill. There is the superb Opera-House, the pride
of the city, which was once burned down in all its splendor,
blazing like the palace of Sardanapalus with a gorgeous
light that carried dismay to the people's hearts; but soon it
rose in all its former beauty, to show that man's genius and
courage can trample on the elements, and from the nettle
defeat still pluck the flower of victory. With princely
munificence he recently offered the beautiful country-seat,
built and occupied by Governor Hunt, to the Society of Free
Masons for an Asylum. Mr. John Hodge is one of Mr.
Crowley's earliest and truest friends. His life is a strange
instance of a bright star presiding, but also of the reward of
almost unparalleled industry and integrity. He' is one of the
few wealthy and successful men who has placed to his
eternal account a shining arra}' of good and charitable deeds,
which will make his now brilliant earthly record pale!
Faultless in all points as a gentleman, and honored and
revered in the many societies of which he is a most con
spicuous member, I believe that none of the Knights Tem
plar, whose fame is cherished from Solomon's Temple down
to the present day, can present a record more closely resem
bling that of Chevalier Bayard, "Sans peurct sans reproche /"
He entered as a student the law office of Edward I. Chase at
the same time with Mr. Crowley, but his tastes seemed to
incline more towards active business pursuits, which he has
ever since followed with ardor and wonderful results. If the
shade of the great Lafayette could revisit now the place
which proudly welcomed him in its infancy, thougji he would
not hear the crashing of the great rocks, he would hear many
a church bell and the jingle of the street-car, and the prattle

LOCKPORT 133
of children on their way to our great schools would greet the
ear of him who smiled upon our pioneers! For these great
blessings we are indebted to the heroic deeds and the patri-.
otic spirit of John Hodge. His name will be perpetuated in
the imperishable record of the works he has performed for
our city, and the gratitude of a loving people will be his
monument. Another building that, like the Pavilion, was gilded with
the rays of youthful fancy and magnified into palatial pro
portions, was the residence of Mr. George W. Hildreth, in
whose employ my father was for twenty-five years, during
which time the strongest friendship existed between the two
men. The fountain in the once bright garden is silent now,
and when I pass there I notice how it is all changed from
long ago, when the many children came gaily trooping in
and out; there were eight of them in all, four sons and four
daughters, and they are all li^¦ing still. Henry was my
father's special favorite, but he was very fond of them all,
and seemed almost as much interested in their progress and
welfare as that of his own children. Mrs. Hildreth was a
lovely woman, and I remember her kind sympathy for my
father and for his people in their sorrow at the loss of their
brilliant son, James Corbitt. Both this gentle lady and her
husband have long since gone to rest, but their children and
friends fondly cherish the remembrance of their useful and
lovely lives, and the name of Hildreth is a part of Niagara's
history. Mr. Hildreth contributed by his valuable inventions
and machines very largely to the improvement and comfort
of the people of his city. He was celebrated for his skill in
all the mechanical arrangements pertaining to schools, and
also in making agricultural implements. The many mem
bers of his then happy and prosperous family have, as is
usual, drifted afar, and I believe there are but two residing
here, Mrs. Louis Viedt and Mr. Charles Hildreth, the able
and popular secretary of the Holly Manufacturing Company.
We can no-w very fairly boast of our manufacturing indus
tries. Here are the headquarters of the celebrated Holly
Water Works, whose machinery is now in such extensive use
all over the United States, supplying cities and villages with
water. Here the inventor, Mr. Birdsall Holly, lives. Here
also are the Holly Steam Works for heating buildings, resi
dences, shops and stores from one common source, the steam
being conveyed, like gas, in pipes under ground.

134 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
There is Mr. William Richmond, the head of our princi
pal institution connected with flouring-mills. One can see
at a single glance the indications of power in his face, the
expression of marked ability he has shown. His wife is the
daughter of an old friend of my father, Mr. William McGill,
and is not only a very pretty, but also a very amiable, woman.
Her brother, named for his father, possesses the family
integrity and noble qualities of heart. We can also speak
with pride of our fine glass-work done under the superin
tendence of Mr. Alonzo J. Mansfield, a man who worthily
holds the respect of the best element of the people, a man
true to the right and not to be swerved from his honorable
course. I must not omit the Cowles Aluminum Works, to
which -we are indebted also for the sojourn of the elegant
and interesting Doctor Waldo and his charming family.
These, -with Mr. Charles Keep's flourishing paper-mills, the
Westerman Rolling-Mills, the Lockport Pulp Manufacturing
Company, the Boston and Lockport Block Factory, and the
cider-mills of the Oliver Brothers, which sent an enormous
amount of cider to France last year, and the Jackson and
Sons Lumber Mills, constitute a powerful array of industries.
Our Niagara County is famous for its fruit-growing, and
chief among those who can claim the reward of merit in
this direction is Mr. Claudius L. Hoag. I think the Niagara
grape, which is now found in the markets of all our large
cities, is the most delicious grape in America, with possibly
the exception of the Tokay grape of California.
Governor Hunt, who resided here for many years, and is now
buried at Glenwood, was very highly appreciated through
out the state. I remember, on my first visit to Albany, on
being presented to a famous litterateur, that he instantly, on
learning I came from Lockport, proceeded to lament the un
timely end of Washington Hunt. "Madame,".saidhe,"Lock-
port is about to lose her brightest ornament." Many a time, in
response to a most welcome invitation, have I rushed away,
if but for a day, from pressing business, to join a dinner
party at his Lockport country seat, and I was always well
repaid for the journey in the pleasant time and the cherished
memories. Robert Hunt, his only son, the fairest gem in all
his brilliant life, the crown of his proudest hopes, perished
from the fever caught in some fatal hour in the fair and
sometimes deadly Roman Campagna, and the widowed
mother, like Eugenie, the sorrowing Empress of France,

LOCKPORT. 135
lives on alone, brooding over mournful memories of past
grandeur, and of joys departed, to return here nevermore.
Among the many old friends who have passed away from
earth, there is one whose name I fondly cherish; it is that of
James G. Porter. His friendship for me began with my
infancy and continued through life. Of his large and
brilliant family but three survive, the two daughters. Mrs.
Cornelius Roosevelt, of New York, and Mrs. Adolph
Mensing, of Germany, and one son. Laura Porter was a
great belle here long ago, and I have often heard an artist
friend say that her face was absolutely faultless. The beauty
and grace of Marie Mensing attracted the attention of the
Empress Eugenie in her palmy days of splendor, the
gorgeous glitter of the Empire, when the days of doom and
exile were far distant. Capt. Grove Porter is the onl}-
son left of six gallant sons. The brave boys, Stanley and
Ben, died for their country's glory, and the others were all
cut off in the flower of their lives. And thus it was with
the Moss boys. Who does not remember those awful days
when the whole city wept and implored for the precious lives
of those glorious fellows? First the noble Charley, then
Ed, a superb specimen of young manhood ; then the gay,
the gifted, Fred, all went down before the pitiless scythe
of the fatal Reaper! The vision of Fred Moss, as I saw
him last, is the one I always recall when his name is men
tioned. What a glorious picture is left on the minds of
friends of those who are called away in early youth! He
stands before me with his waving brown hair, his bright
blue eyes so full of fire and feeling, the stamp of rare intel
ligence upon his brow, and in his whole manner and bearing
the gentleman, and better still, the true and tender friend.
Every one loved Fred Moss, and he is not, and never can
be, forgotten, for
" 'Tis not the tear at the moment shed.
When the cold turf has just been laid o'er him.
That can tell how beloved was the friend that's dead.
Or how deep in our hearts we deplore him.
Had he lived, he might have written the name of Moss upon
the temple of our country's fame, for his talents were great
and promising. But it would have been at best but brief,
and the struggle is so hard that the game is not worth
the hunter's perils and persecutions. George Moss alone

1.36 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
remains, the last of that remarkable band of brothers. He
was left for the conflict and the trials, and he has kept and
transmitted the honorable name untarnished, and when, on
the resurrection morning, he meets his brothers once more,
then, and not till then, will the mystery be solved, -why they
were snatched away with " Life's enchanting cup still spark
ling near the brim." For many a year they have lain in
their graves at Cold Springs, where many a gallant comrade
sleeps beside them.
Capt. William Stahl, handsome and gifted, stricken
down just when fame beckoned most alluringly, he, too, lies
there. We, who have so long remained behind, might
almost envy them their dreamless rest, when the shots of
traitors ring madly about our ears, and we grow weary of
the perpetual smoke and din of battle.
" Who dreads to the dust returning?
Who shrinks from the sable shore,
Where the high and haughty yearning
Of the soul shall sting no more? ' '
One of my husband's pleasantest youthful experiences was
when he taught school at Chestnut Ridge, in the winters of
1857 and 1858. His most intimate friends were the family
of Nathan G. Stebbins, the Flaglers, who lived opposite
them, and the Terrys. Of course the " boys" have scattered
widely since then, but the friendship with the Stebbins
family he never will allow to grow cold, no matter what
intervenes. Mrs. Stebbins is a perfect type of lovely Chris
tian character. I always thought Eugenie, the one who
married Frank Terry, one of the prettiest girls I ever saw,
and the second sister, Mary, now the wife of Mr. Norman
Allen, is very graceful and fascinating. How sweet is
true friendship when it holds firm through the changes of
the years, and how bitter it is to be deserted by those who
were kind only when fortune smiled, and -waited till we were
wounded with the sorrow they should have felt and under
stood to attempt to strike us down. And still further back
in my own life I can see a charming picture, never to lose its
place on Memory's walls. A little vine-covered cottage,
near where once stood the Baptist Church, was occupied by
Mrs. Thomas Wall and her family. She was a lovely old
lady and my mother's very dearest friend, who used to say
that, soon after her arrival in Lockport, they constantly met

LOCKPORT. 137
on the way to mass on Sunday mornings. Finally, she
greeted her with saying : " Well, surely we will meet in
Heaven ! " And so, at last, after doleful and dreary years,
they have, I trust and believe, met once more in Heaven.
Her children have all prospered. Her grandson, Mr. Will
iam Spalding, was, in Mr. Crowley's opinion, one of the
best Mayors our city has ever known. The clustering grapes
which drooped over Mrs. Wall's windows, framed, as in a
portrait, one of her daughters, the handsome Elizabeth, with -
her flashing black eyes and long glittering ear-rings. I have
always been specially partial to these barbaric ornaments.
They have been well described as " the golden lamps that
light up the shadowy dimples on the cheeks of young beauty,"
The love of jewels has existed in all ages and races, from
the Indian girl, with her necklace of wampum, to the modern
belle, for whose sake the deep mine and the ocean cave are
penetrated to their most dangerous depths,
" To make the mighty magnet set
In woman's form more powerful yet."
Many of the old familiar landmarks of my childish days
have disappeared, but one, I notice, still stands where I often
went in those days. It is a very narrow building, just hang
ing over the canal, near the bridge, and in early tiines it was
a village store, kept by a man named Doyle, At the back,
actually over a precipice, clambered the flowering-currant in
sweet and wild profusion. With what reckless delight I
climbed for the loveliest branches, which would persist in
growing on the very top, where danger menaced the daring
hand that plucked them. But is it not always so? Later on
in life do not the blossoms seem brightest which grow at the
highest summit, and does not the fruit of success gleam with
a richer bloom from the topmost boughs, which can only be
reached by deadly peril and conflict with mortal foes? But
the sages of all the ages will tell you, in all their different
languages, that the coveted blossom fades quite as quickly
in your grasp as if you plucked it near the lowly ground, and
that the fruits which glowed with such tempting luster
strongly resemble in flavor those fabled ones painted as
luscious to the sight, but as ashes to the taste. About where
the Erie depot now stands I watched with wonder and awe
the flaming forge of Thomas Kennedy's blacksmith shop.
What a marvel to see the iron turn from ruby to white, and

138 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
then to dull black again. And the flashing sparks from the
anvil, I can see them still, so strongly is the spot impressed
upon my memory. I remember, too, how kind and patient
he was in answering my thousand childish questions, which
often afforded him intense amusement. Around the walls of
the shop hung marvelous pictures of gallant steeds, whose
matchless symmetry was due to the use of the famous Gar
gling Oil, one of Lockport's panaceas, patented by a Mr.
Merchant, and now made under the supervision of Mr. John
Hodge. As long back as I can possibly remember, I listened
with eager delight to the talks of Joshua Giddings, a vener
able neighbor, whom the old residents can not have since for
gotten. He was a Spiritualist, and the first stances in Lock-
port were held at his house. How the table-tappings fright
ened people, and how agitated they became over the possibility
of holding converse with departed friends! Since then what
an advance this exciting science has known. The famous
stances held at the White House in Lincoln's time are well
told in the " Rebellion Records," and his interest dated from
the death of " Little Tad," whose spirit he often fancied
hovered near to inspire and console him. I could name, if I
wished, two other Presidents who were investigators, if not
believers, and also many another distinguished name of
which strange experiences could be narrated, but I shall -wait
until these personages have assumed the masque and domino
of my " Romance," for their incognito must, for the present
at least, be kept.
Mr. Giddings also talked a great deal on the subject of
Free Masonry, and especially of Morgan's fate, whose story
he recounted eloquently to his awe-struck hearers on certain
evenings. In appearance and manner he was like the Bible
seers, and his words -were listened to with deep attention.
Mrs. Baker was Mr. Giddings's daughter, and I think our
place never knew a nobler, lovelier character than hers.
She was a superb looking woman, and as good as an angel
could be, and to those who loved her, as I did, her memory
will ever be dear.
In that neighborhood there was a great excitement among
those who caught the gold fever of '49, and rushed to Cali
fornia, making a hurried disposal of their household, goods.
I remember well those parting scenes among old friends
who had started out in life together. But I presume this
was nothing to the commotion, which occurred just before

LOCKPORT. 139
my recollection, of the Millerites preparing for ascension to
the skies. They were the believers in the second advent of
Christ, and I have heard my mother tell how they actually
had their ascension robes prepared, and even went so far as
to go upon the roofs of their houses at the predicted hour.
But in vain they waited, no wings were sent, no heavenly
message was proclaimed. There is to me something
profoundly pathetic in these people, who are always hoping
that the end of the world is at hand. They are so fervent in
their trust, and so indifferent to earthly things! But hath it
not been written that the children of this world are wiser
in their generation than the children of light? What deep
and broad rivers of meaning are pent up in this sentence !
In the twelve towns which comprise our County of Niag
ara there'is an interesting field for historical and biographical
research. The descendants of the heroic pioneers may well
be proud of the record, considering the formidable difficulties
and dangers encountered before the present comfort and
beauty resulted. In each town to-day dwells some leader,
who seems to concentrate within himself and his chosen band
of friends the strength, the courage, the fidelity of yore, when
the war-cry of the savage sounded the alarm, or when their
country issue.d, not in vain, the bugle call to arms in her
defense! There is the town of Royalton, where the family
of Philip Freeman holds regal sway, where grand and fear
less men like James Compton, George Judson, George Eddy,
Frank Terry, George Hoyer, Archibald Kinney and hosts of
others stand forth ready to defend the right, to espouse the
cause of justice and rally round peerless intellect, the only
royalty we recognize in this free land, the only allegiance we
acknowledge. I think the people of Middleport are as fine a representa
tion as one could find in America of everything worthj^ to
admire in our people. This deeply impressed me on the
occasion of a banquet given by the leading citizens in honor
of Mr. Crowley, in order to express their indignation at the
manner in which the election to Congress last year was
bought, betrayed and perjured away. Some who assisted in
this act of treachery must feel a profound sympathy with
Lady "Macbeth, when she exclaims: "Out damned spot!"
Verily, not all the "perfumes of Arabia" can for them wash
this stain away.

I40 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
In the town of Porter there is the family of Peter Tower,
who came here from Massachusetts in 1815. During his
long life, of more than ninety years, he was constantly de
voted to the improvement of the place and the people by
whom he was surrounded. In his house was held the first
town-meeting, and he presented the ground for the first log
school-house erected in his village, thus laying the most valu
able foundation possible for its future. He was celebrated as a
foe to Free Masonry, having been a warm, personal friend of
William Morgan, whose secret removal caused such wild
excitement. The same strong, fine traits of character which
made him dear to his friends and neighbors are plainly to be
traced in his children and grandchildren, notably in Mr.
Harmon B. Tower, whose personal integrity and manly
worth are widely felt and respected.
Ransomville was the scene of joyous youthful days, when
I used to go in vacation time to visit Sue Baker, whose
father, Mr. Dilman Baker, lived on one of its pleasant farms.
There I met many kind friends — the Ransoms, from whom
the place takes its name, and others, who have long since
passed away. How sweet the June roses were in Ransom
ville! What a romantic charm there was in the moonlight
nights! How jolly were our rides in the stagcrcoach which
took us on our enchanted way !
" Oh, for one of those hours of gladness,
Gone, alas ! like our youth, too soon ! "
In the lovely village called Niagara Falls, which holds as
its proudest possession the famous cataract, that jewel to
which " all Nature is the setting," live and have lived many
illustrious people. The Hon. William Poole, editor of
the Niagara Courier., has long been noted for his political
and literary ability. A loyal Republican, a true friend, his
life is unshadowed by any act of selfishness or treachery.
He was in the Assembly in 1866, and there began the deep
friendship between himself and Mr. Crowley, which time
has but increased and trials but brightened. How of late the
barbed point of his pen pricks through the bubbles of false
hood perpetrated by the feeble minds who vainly dream that
they can cope with him in bitter irony and stinging sarcasm !
The famous Porter family, who were among the very earliest
settlers, have shed a luster over the history of this place.
Foremost in all things, war, politics, or the elegant hospi-

LOCKPORT. 141
tality which is always associated with their illustrious name,
they have countless friends and admirers, both in this country
• and in Europe. The present representatives of the family
are the Hon. Peter A. Porter and his brothers. And
there are the Delanos, the Pettibones, and many others whose
lives should be part of the history, of the place, Charies
Young, of Cambria, George M. Swain, of Somerset, and
Ralph Stockwell, of Wilson, are men cast in that heroic
mold which seems to be born and inspired for great
purposes — men who leave deep impressions on their time,
whose friendship and alliance decorate the brows of those in
whom they place their trust.
Closely connected with our later years, dear to us and to
our children, will ever be the memory of the gifted, the
genial, and the noble Will Chaffin, Too lofty to be capable
of envy, rejoicing in the success of his friends, he was a
type of all that is best and chivalric in young manhood. He
was summoned from this world in the very freshness of life's
morning, -while yet the dew lay upon the flowers of hope and
love by which his path was strewn. And, ah ! he was his
mother's only son, and she a widow. Yet proud even in her
sorrow is the mother of such a glorious child. And forever
she will feel: " Thy voice is far, thy face is hid from me.
But day and night are full of dreams of thee."
Lockport has always been pre-eminently a church-going
town, and it has many belivers in almost every sect, but the
spires all point heavenward after all ! There is the first
Roman Catholic Church built here, St. John the Baptist's,
Thither did our childish footsteps tend, and as the first deep
impressions are said to be the ones we carry with us to
eternity, I am sure mine will be the odors of the incense, the
devout old women telling their beads over and over again,
the solemn chanting of the mass. I believe that at last all
other creeds will once more be absorbed in this, the first and
truest, and that Rome, in spirit at least, will resume her
vanished sway ! The Episcopal Church draws nearer to us
every day ; they have now their sisterhoods, and many of
their observances, especially of Lenten devotions, are be
coming more and more similar to those of the once abhorred
. Papists. The brightest star the Episcopal Church ever
knew in Lockport was the Rev. Foster Ely. Gifted,

142 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
sympathetic, without bigotry, and full of charity, he treads
as closely in the path marked out by Christ as any one I ever
met in this world. He resembles Edwin Booth very much,
and his face bears the imperial signet ot genius and nobility.
If he had not chosen the "holy vocation of divine ministry,
he might have found fame and fortune at the Bar or in the
field of belles-lettres. Another most perfect Christian
gentleman was the Rev. Charles Gilliatt, a profound
scholar and a very brilliant conversationalist. I am told he is
greatly admired and appreciated at Newport, where he now
presides. The Methodist Church, so pleasantly connected
with my youth, owing to the fact that the Rev. Mr.
Smiths' families, both Griffin's and Ryan's, were among my
dearest friends, is now presided over in both parishes by two
eminently able men, the Rev. Mr. Sanborn in the upper,
and the Rev. Mr. Stratton in the lower town. Mr. San
born - is a very highly cultured man and a great student
of history and the sciences. His elegant appearance might
be accounted for by the fact that he is a lineal descendant of
the royal house of the Stuarts. And there is certainly a
much greater charm attached to the stories and reminiscences
of the Cavaliers than to the grim followers of the hideous
Cromwell and the cruel Knox. His researches on the subject
of Indian history and customs have endeared him to that
singular race of beings. They have given him a name
which, translated from their language, means " Clearer of the
Skies," which is a very poetical way of describing the power
of the minister to console. To his pretty wife they have
given an appellation signifying a pendant flower. The ill-
starred family from whom he traces his descent had many
noble qualities, which now shine in this scion of their blood
here in the New World. The Rev. Mr. Stratton has
enshrined in his frail body the courage and hope which
sustained the martyrs of old, when they fearlessly mounted
the scaffold, or watched unfaltering the flames curl around
them as they died for the sacred cause. Like St. Stephens
he would be stoned to death before he would waver for an
instant, and the growling of the wild beasts in the arena
could strike no fear in his breast. Torture could never make
him surrender, nor death itself cause him to be false to the
right! 'Mr. Stratton served as a soldier all through the war,
and for this reason, as well as his eloquence, was selected as
one of the orators on Memorial Day at the reunion at

LOCKPORT. 143
Gettysburg. He accompanied Mr. Crowley there on the
1 8th of June last. He gives unsparingly his time and
strength to the Republican party, and has always been an
ardent admirer of Mr. Blaine. His devotion to Mr. Crowley's
interests in the Congressional contest arose from the highest
and purest qualities of his mind. Daniel Webster once said:
" Though I have little of that spirit which would lift a mortal
to the skies, I thank, my God that I have none of that which
would drag an angel down." Such men as our friends, the
Rev. Mr. Stratton and the Rev. Mr. Furbish, of the
Congregational Church, (who is always a warm and
valued friend of Mr. Crowley,) soar higher than the great
statesman, Daniel Webster, in their efforts to uphold a
struggling spirit; they would gladly "lift a mortal to the
skies," and during the continuance of trials here would agree
with the poet that " He merits best a knightly crest
Who slays the demons that infest
The soul within.
A victor here,
He well may seek a wider sphere."
Of the Catholic priests of St. John's, my memory dates
back to the third. Father McMullen. The ones I knew best
were Father Creedon, Father Bede and Father Gleason.
Father Creedon was one of the most brilliant and fascinating
of men. Though I was but a child during his pastorate here,
I knew him well, as I frequently visited his little niece, Julia
Grogan. The changes of recent years have transformed the
old house close by the church, where he lived, but in memory's
eye I see him still, with his black velvet beretta, so infinitely
becoming to his handsome face, as he sauntered through the
garden, conning his breviary, now and then sitting with us
children in the old fashioned grape arbor. Flowers grew on
both sides of the long -walk leading up to the door, and ivy
clung to the ancient walls. All have vanished now, flowers
and friends of long ago. Father Creedon removed from here
to Auburn, where he became the intimate and trusted friend
of William H. Seward, a man he always wished to see
President. He was devoted to the interests of the Republi
can party, and was deeply versed in politics as well as
literature. This gifted man died quite young, as so many
Catholic priests do, for the exposures and fatigues of their

144 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
lives must inevitably shorten them. Father Bede was a very
quiet and good man, and very much beloved. He, too, has
long since passed away. Father Edward Gleason performed
for us the marriage ceremony. He is a fine scholar, and
speaks French and several other languages. When he was
promoted from this parish to be the Vicar-General of Buffalo
he was very deeply missed and regretted, having been much
loved by the people. For my part, I think the red hat of
the Cardinal would suit him to perfection, and none of those
I have met are half so distinguished looking as he. What a
part they have played in history! Wolsey in England, and
Richelieu and Mazarin in France, in the time of Louis XIV,
or as he was justly styled, Louis Le Grande Monarque!
Father Hugh Mulholland Avas sent here in his place. His
kind and gentle mission will never be forgotten, though at
first his plain, unvarnished simplicity seemed a great contrast
to the elegant manners and polished sermons of the adored
Father Edward Gleason, He sleeps his last sleep among the
dead lambs of the flock he tended so well and faithfully.
Father Mulholland was succeeded by the Rev. Edward
Kelley, a man who in a very short time endeared himself
forever here, and whose recent death deprived his friends of
a wise and faithful counselor, incapable of being swayed by
sordid motives, and he in turn was followed by the present
priest, our good friend, Father Darcy, whose unfaltering
labors in the church he loves so well, have almost caused him
to be transplanted untimely to meet the rewards of a life of
self-denial and devotion here in this world of sorrow. The
beautiful new Church of St. Patrick, which is in the parish
where my parents lived, and in the place where the last rites
were performed for them, owes its beauty and its flourishing
condition to the untiring zeal of Father Cannon. I believe
him to be a sincere and earnest laborer for the good of the
flock committed so many years to his care, both to their tem
poral and spiritual advantage. The fine Stations of the
Cross, which he has recently imported from Europe at great
expense, are so artistic and lifelike that they speak far more
eloquently than the finest sermon of the passion and anguish
of our Saviour. " Behold Me ! " they seem to say, " and com
plain not of your brief sorrows here, for if you bear them
patiently some day you shall be with me in Paradise!" A
very brilliant young priest was lately called to assist Father
Cannon in his too arduous labors, the Rev. Mr. Barrett,

LOCKPORT. 145
whose eloquence proved a magnet for the young lambs of
the fold. He is deeply interested in literature, and has
written some very able articles, biographical and critical.
He has a mind capable of grappling with and properly con
sidering the great questions of the times. In the smaller
outlying towns of Niagara County have been, and are, some
remarkably accomplished and educated priests. There is
Father O'Donohue, whose stock of classic and poetic lore is
inexhaustible, and in whose company one can sip delight
fully of the Castalian fountain, and the ardent and eloquent
Father Malloy, and the young disciple. Father Noonan,
whose beginning of the priestly life is so noble and honor
able in all ways. " Bells of the past, whose long-forgotten music
Still fills the wide expanse,
Tinging the sober twilight of the present
With color of romance. "
So softly stole the gentle music of the Angelus over this
hitherto practical town, and cast about it the spell of ancient
story and the lovely picture of innocence and rest. Among
the plainer churches of the more modern sects, the Old World
buildings of our Convent of St. Joseph stands out like the
structure of a dream, or a page from antique history. The
good Sisters, who left their native countries, France and
Belgium, to offer their lives and services in their purifying
and holy mission, are entitled to our warmest love and grati
tude. Some of them have found their graves on this foreign
shore, among them the wise and lovely Mother Superior,
who died two years ago. I can never forget good Father
Ulrich, of St. Mary's, from the fair province of Alsace, who
seemed surrounded with such a halo of forgiveness that one
would fain have him beside the death-bed. When quitting
this vale of tears, may I find some such gentle, saintly usher
into eternity! And so, with the mention of these holy men,
I take my leave for awhile of home and early friends, to de
scribe other scenes and people, but to return once more, au
premiers amours!

146 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
CHAPTER IV.
Senate at Albany.
" Come back, ye friends whose lives are ended,
Come back with all that light attended
Which seemed fo darken and decay,
When ye arose and went away ! "
Niagara sent my husband, Richard Crowley, then
twenty-nine 3-ears of age, to Albany as State Senator, in
1865, a position he held for four years. Then began my
serious observations and experiences of life and character.
Looking backward through the mists of years and judging
now by comparison, I think the New York Senate of that
time was a remarkable body of men. Harken to the roll-
call. Many will not answer, having long since appeared before
the great Governor of all. Some day we shall hear again
those now silent voices. May they greet us with the sweet
welcome of old, before time, or change, or estrangement had
dimmed the radiance of those early smiles. First and best,
" Here's a health to thee," Tom Murphy, at that time
Fortune's favorite son. Who could have foreseen that she
would one day cease to smile, and that the friends to whom
thou wast so royally generous would, after mounting the
ladder of success, the lowest round of which their feet had
never pressed but for thee, prove false, and cold, and un
grateful ? Mr. Murphy's house on 39th Street was then the
headquarters of the most famous New York politicians.
Fortunes and careers were planned and made in his draw
ing-room, and over his hospitable dinner-table the brightest
bon-mots of the day were uttered, while the wine sparkled
freely, and fashion and beauty listened to eloquence and
learning, to reminiscences of the War of the Rebellion from
Grant, Sheridan, Porter and others, to lovely poetry from
the lips of Roscoe Conkling, to Miles O'Reilly and many
another brilliant form now vanished. There the wires were
pulled which overthrew Reuben E. Fenton, which drew
Roscoe Conkling into prominence, which made Alonzo B.
Cornell Governor, which made Chester A. Arthur Collector,
the stepping-stone for him to the Presidency. For Thomas
Murphy all these advantages and blessings were crowned
with the companionship of a noble wife, one of the best and

SENA TE AT ALBANY. 1 47
truest women in America. This is not alone the opinion of
my partiality for her, and the strong friendship of many
years, through sunshine and storm, but it is echoed by all who
had the pleasure of her society at that time, and I never meet
one of those old habitues of her once celebrated home with
out hearing the most devoted affection and admiration still
expressed with all the eagerness of yore. The large family
of children and many other relatives who surrounded them
then are somewhat scattered now. To many not at all con
nected with them they are fondly alluded to as " Uncle
Tom" and " Aunt Ma'ry." Nellie]^ the beautiful daughter,
whose life began so brilliantly, married a young Cuban, Mr.
Manuel de Rivas, but, as often happens to the fairest desti
nies, the clouds came all at once, and even her devoted hus
band was taken from her. Manuel de Rivas possessed the
faultless and elegant manners which are only seen in their
perfection when accompanied by a truly amiable disposition.
Alas, that such spirits should be so rare, and when found,
that they should, be allowed to dwell with us on earth so
briefly. She has two lovely children, in whose dark Spanish
eyes the adored father is recalled. The sons have grown up
fine, manly fellows. The elder, Richard G, Murphy, is ex
ceedingly popular. He married a very lovely girl. Miss Ella
Jameson, whose father is one of the most agreeable and best-,
informed men in New York, He was named for his uncle,
Mr, Richard Gibbs,a highly accomplished gentleman, whose
life was varied enough in its stirring vicissitudes to furnish
material for a thrilling romance, having been spent mostly in
Cuba and South America in times of great political excite
ment. He had a pretty wife named Caridad, the Spanish
word for charity. And there was another in that bright
coterie, whose memory sadly and sweetly shines from her
early tomb. Dear Lizzie Murphy! Never will she be for
gotten by those who knew her and loved her. From the
happy circle she was taken first, but since then how many
have gone to join her.
True to the unerring law that
' ' Great souls by instinct to each other turn.
Demand alliance, and in friendship burn,"
Charles J. Folger and Richard Crowley at once became
friends. Mr. Folger was a singularly interesting character,
and those who met him at that time may be said to have

148 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
known him in his prime, for in latter years, as a member of
Arthur's Cabinet, he was one of the most sadly degenerated
men I ever saw. He was always subject to terrible fits of
despondency, during which the thought of suicide assumed a
most alluring aspect. Like Seneca, he would wonder why
one should endure the ills of life when, on the crest of every
wave, and at the point of every dagger, death sits smiling
and beckoning. Like many persons of poetical taste, he was
extremely fond of hymns, and often repeated in sad hours
the well-known one:
" Why should we mourn departed friends,
Why shake at death's alarms? "
His affectionate nature may be seen from his letters, which
we have always carefully treasured. Here is part of one:
Geneva, N. Y. , Dec. 31, 1867,
Dear Richard : — I think that, though the Governor says that he is about
to retire from politics, he means to die like the dolphin exhibiting his
brightest hues as a politician , that is, showing how much he can be a poli
tician. For, notwithstanding what he may have told Ben Field, he said to
Hugh Hastings that, if the committees of the Senate were not such as were
proper and to suit the public, it would be for the reason that /, /. Folger,
was in fault. So Terwilliger writes to me. However, the programme you
give is not much, if any, different from what he talked witb me, only he is
decided as to municipial affairs as far as you are concerned, when he was
non-committal to me. Who knows but the word 1 spake may have taken
root and sprung up to fruitage ? Whether or not, I am glad, dear Richard,
that you are like to have what you coveted. It is not an easy place, but I
know that you can fill it with credit and usefulness. You need the spur it
will give you, and I trust that the next two years may lay the foundation
for you of a future all that you deserve, and all that you and your friends
may desire. I wish that I was younger, so that I might live to see you at
your zenith. It is the dying night, almost the dying hour, of the old year.
Sixty-eight comes in with a burden of events, the catastrophe of which
none can foretell. But this I know, that it shall not be my fault, or it shall
be my fault, if the blows his hammer daily strikes shall not rivet firmer the
bonds of friendship and mutual esteem of Richard Crowley and Charles J.
Folger. Give my warmest happy New Year to Mrs. Crowley and Maud,
and the little innocent, whom to have christened Charley would have glori
fied me. Folger.
We have very pleasant memories of Mrs. Folger, who,
though in delicate health for many years, always treated her
husband's friends in the most cordial manner. Their country-
house on Seneca Lake, near Geneva, was noted for its genial
and informal hospitality. There were two men, though not
in the Senate, yet well-known habitues of Albany in those

SENA TE AT ALBANY. 1 49
days, George Bliss and Chester A. Arthur. It is often in
teresting to note the development of men in the lapse of time
and the never-ceasing change in human affairs. We shall
meet these two twenty years later, when one of them had
arisen to a height which, if then foretold, would have
awakened general surprise. Mr. Folger always joined the
band who accompanied Mr. Murphy to his home in New
York City to spend the interval from the Friday adjourn
ment to the ne.xt meeting of the Senate on Monday. Then
would gather around the festive board the choicest spirits of
the day : Mr. Rufus F. Andrews, a very brilliant gentle
man, at that time engaged in editing a paper; Mr. Isaac H.
Bailey, whose conversational powers are celebrated, and
whose very presence seemed to stimulate the brilliancy of
others; Mr. Thomas C. Acton, whose genial manners en
deared him to us all; Mr. Alonzo B. Cornell, with his
attractive wife, and her charming sister, Mrs. Ljman Hast
ings, of Albany; General George H. Sharpe, a man whose
versatility of mind I have never seen excelled, and who
always received the most enthusiastic welcome. Beauty
resorted there as well as genius, and thus in that famous
banquet-hall the symposium of the gods was often realized.
One of the most beautiful women I ever saw was Mrs,
Louis Pettee, a little more than twenty years ago. She is a
blonde of the striking coloring, with light hair, and eyes and
brows much darker. Her handsome features are of the type
one sees represented in the flower of the French nobility, and
in the full splendor of evening dress, glittering with jewels, one
might fancy that she had stepped out of the frame and was a
portrait come to life of some belle Marquise of the old
regime, the magnificent Empire whose blazing sun set in a
sea of avenging blood. Her story is a startling illustration
of life's changes. Fortunate it is indeed that we can not look
beyond the veil which hides the future from our eager eyes!
With an only daughter of superb beauty, with a fond hus
band, whose greatest pleasure it was to strew her path with
proofs of love, with all that wealth, health and beauty could
dream of with no earthly wish ungratified, what would
she, what could her loving friends, have thought, could
they in prophetic vision have seen her as she is now, a soli
tary figure, the very personification of Niobe, shrouded in
sable weeds of woe, no smile lighting up the lovely face
which once beamed with happiness, alas, too bright to last!

ISO ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Husband gone, child gone, and but little left of a once large
fortune; summer friends gone too, though the few who
^l-ways knew the noble woman's heart beneath the jewels
and laces cling to her more fondly than ever in her desola
tion. Beautiful Josephine! In thy immeasurable grief thou
hast shown more than the heroism and patience of thy name
sake at the sad palace of Malmaison; thy sorrows have en
nobled thee, and when the welcome summons comes -which
calls thee to thy adored ones, thou will come to them as a
spirit far transcending in beauty the earthly loveliness they
left behind. Lulu Pettee was one of those children of whom
people say, looking back: "We might have known she
would not stay." Sunny and bright, with her faultless love
liness and all her gifts of fortune, she -was always tender and
kind to others. She went before, clouds appeared in her
youthful sky, and entered Paradise but a short time before
my Maud, and I love to fancy them there together.
" Beyond this vale of tears
"There is a life above,
Unmeasured by the flight of years ;
And all that life is love, "
As I stood by the grave of Louis Pettee, on a sad mid-sum
mer day, and saw him laid beside his loved daughter, I felt
how well might be applied the lament of Halleck over his
friend : ' ' Green be the turf above thee,
Friend of my better days;
None knew thee but to love thee,
None named thee but to praise ! "
How many a time since he left us have we missed the con
solation of his friendship ! How his kind and noble face
comes back to our dreams ! Friend of our " better days "
indeed. Sooner or later, but always unfailing, was the well-known
ring and footstep of General Arthur, as we used to call him.
Always smiling and affectionate in his manner towards his
friends, and apparently as attached to Mr. Murphy's family
as though they were his nearest and dearest relatives, what a
desperate stretch of the imagination would have been required
to picture him seated on some lofty height, giving orders to
his attendants to close the doors against the very men whose
fortunes were squandered and whose own plans were broken

SENA TE AT A LB AN Y. 151
in order that his pathway might be smoothed. Walter Scott,
in his matchless romances, tells of the wizards of old who
showed in mirrors or clear water the images of events to
come. Nobles of high degree, and even crowned monarchs,
were not too wise to consult these weird oracles with the
spirit that impelled Mark Antony to ask the ancient sooth
sayer: "Say, does the star of Caesar rise or mine?" At these
gay and convivial times, could some prophet of the past have
arisen and shown us what a few short years would bring
forth, Conkling in his grave after comparative oblivion,
Arthur first triumphant-, then stricken down, Folger ,ind
many others gone, and most of those left estranged from each
other, how the smiles would have faded from rosy lips, and
the hearts which then throbbed with hope have been chilled
with deadly fear. But we did not know, we did not even
dream. We went on blindly trusting, and, looking back, it
seems to me that the cold and selfish alone met their reward
here. I have never seen generosity appreciated. I have
never seen goodness receive gratitude. I have never seen
charity bring a blessing — here. But I turn from all these
reflections to the story of Jesus Christ, when the Jews reviled
and derided him for not rewarding them with worldly goods
and appointing them to high places, and he replied unto
them, saying: "My kingdom is not of this world." If this
did not teach us to wait for a higher court to decide, and that
beyond this brief and stormy probation called Life, we shall
see justice, how then should we account for the fact that mis
fortune could ever touch such men as Thomas Murphy, who
could not sit in peace at his prosperous table if he was told
there was a beggar at the door, or who could not leave an
opera or a theater without stopping in the coldest winter's
night, before entering his carriage, to give to the little chil
dren who sold flowers and matches on the streets of New
York City. Dear old friend, I believe that every penny has
gained interest for thee in an account thou canst draw on for
eternity. I believe that, in the dread time to come, when the
Goulds and the Sages, and their class will be sharing the fate
of Dives, thou wilt be living in royal splendor in that Eternal
City, whose gates are of pearl anjl gold.
Chauncey M. Depew, then a young man, was at Albany
a great deal during those four years, and from the opinion
I formed then of his talents, nothing in- his subsequent career
has surprised me. I really believe, though I never heard him

152 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
say so, that he had that premonition of future greatness which
successful men are said to feel. He seemed to have such
settled principles and maxims in regard to life in general. I
remember his saying once that he thought reserve was neces
sary to a man's success in life, but it was a very unattractive
quality in woman. I have often thought of it since, and the
more I see of the world the more I think he was right. A
man can not afford to disclose his plans, and I observe that
great men never do, but a woman who asserts herself in that
way would lose all her charm. At all events, none of the
most fascinating women I have seen were at all what w^e
would call reserved, though of course a gay and affable
manner does not imph' indiscretion, and certainly a good
woman, who is a good conversationalist, is not necessarily in
any more danger of betraying a secret or a friend than a dull,
cold, stupid woman would be. On the contrary, fine qualities
and attractions are more apt than otherwise to be associated
with a high sense of honor. We were always delighted to
have Mr. Depew sit at the table with us at the hotel, for
then, as now, a perpetual flow of wit and eloquence fell from
his lips. And no one enjoys all his bright thoughts or reads
them more eagerly than my children do, for, aside from his
present renown and his high example of what an American
can achieve, they are interested in the fact that we knew him,
as the psalmist says, in the days of our youth.
Rufus Andrews used to say to me : " Why don't you write
a book and call it ' The Romance of a Young Politician's
Wife'?" I reply to him now that he, of all the men I
know, should write one and call it " Memories of a Veteran
Politician." But, alas! There is so much that we can not
say! Was the true history of any time ever told, I wonder,
even in the fiercest of lights that ever beat upon a throne?
What a story he could tell of Lincoln and his time, and of
the inside life of the great men of that day, editors, states
men and all! What intrigues of love and politics he could
unravel, what names of spotless integrity he could cloud, and
also what clouded names he could clear without a stain, if he
only dared ! But reser\-e, as Mr. Depew said, so essential to
man's success, and higher^ than reserve, honor, honor to
friends dead and living, seals the lips and stays the pen
against criticising aught besides public acts. I maintain that
in these the dead as well as the living should be judged, else
to what purpose should history be read and volumes of

SENA TE AT ALB AN Y. 153
antiquity be searched? The glittering pageantry of the past
does not shine alone on saints and martyrs, but on men and
women who struggled and were tempted in the battle, even
as we are of to-day. No true record can be written which
can say aught but good of Rufus Andrews, a friend warm
and true, a fine intellect, a powerful influence in his party, a
man incapable of anything approaching falsehood or betrayal.
One of my dearest friends in Albany was Mr. Bogart, a
correspondent who wrote for the New York World under
the nom de plume of " Sentinel." He was enthusiastic on the
subjects of poetry and art, and flitted constantly either to the
library, presided over by Mr. Alfred B. Street, or to the
studios of Palmer, the sculptor, and Elliott, the artist, I
always deemed it a pleasant pri\-ilege to accompany him, as
there was much to charm and interest in both places, I felt
a special interest in Mr. Elliott, for he had painted fine por
traits of several of my friends, notably one of Mrs. William
Keep, which is very lovely and life-like, and is now in the
possession of her only brother, Mr. Joseph Rhoades, who is
himself an artist; therefore the picture possesses for him a
double value, not only as an image of the sister he adored,
but as the work of so great a painter as Mr. Elliott. This
famous artist died some years since, I believe Mr, Palmer
is still living. In his most perfect statues he took his chil
dren for models, and I recall one, especially lovely, of a child
with a butterfly on her shoulder that had just escaped the
chrysalis, which led to a most interesting discourse among
the statesmen and writers present in regard to immortality.
All agreed that the butterfly was the best possible emblem,
and was given to us for this special lesson. How inspiring
to imagine the spiritual body rising from its discarded tene
ment of clay, glorious and dazzling in its immortal and
angelic form ! Still there must be some indefinable some
thing by which we retain our identity and are recognized in
the transformation. It was a pagan belief of long ages ago
that there was one single divine spark in this earthly taber
nacle which defied decay and rose resplendent from the
ruined shrine of the soul.
One day, visiting the poet Mr, Street at the Library, we
had the pleasure of meeting John G, Saxe, whose poetry I
had long admired. We also claimed at Lockport a special
interest in him, for he was a law student there at one time
in the office of the Hon, Sullivan Caverno, This day was

154 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
also one to be remembered, for the reason that it was then
that N, P. Willis died, one of the sweetest of our American
poets. In the matchless beauty of his " Sacred Poems " the
spirit seems to see the Jerusalem of old, Jesus was there
but yesterday. The prints of His departing feet were at the
door. Mr. Bogart repeated for us the lament of David for
Absalom, In the vividness of this wondrous word painting
how we can almost see beneath the pall " the matchless sym
metry of Absalom, his banner, soiled with trailing through
Jerusalem, was laid, reversed, beside him." Strangly enough,
on the very day I thus recalled my old friend Mr. Bogart to
mind, I received the news of his death; but a few moments
before I had expressed a wish to meet him again, and this
was the answer, at least for the present, but in a higher
existence I trust that pleasure will again be mine.
Mr. Thomas C. Acton, then President of the Metropolitan
Police Board of the City of New York, was one of the most
active and popular men-of the time. Always gay and full
of animation, even when, as at one time, death seemed to
have sent his imperial summons to call him from a world he
found so bright, he had not only the charm of winning
friends, but of avoiding enemies. This I consider especially
remarkable, for usually a favorite is pursued by a trail of
jealousy. Every one is familiar with the ancient proverb of
Courts: "A favorite has no friends." One may still see him,
pleasant and cheery as of old, in the Bank of New Amster
dam, where it is sometimes interesting to watch the curious
looking foreigners, the dark Italian or the blond Teuton
opera singers, as they come to deposit there the American
gold they left their native shores to win. He is one of the
few friends now easy to find in the bustling city which has
no time to spare in reveries over vanished greatness, or
beauty, or fortune. The most distinguished personage upon
its streets may disappear, and after a day will be remembered
no more than one of the million drops of the ocean, or the
countless sands upon its shore.
There is another, loyal to old friendships, loyal to all things
great and true, Isaac H. Bailey. For eloquent discourse he
might be styled the American Mirabeau, and for brilliant
repartee no one could surpass him. To show that " age
does not wither" or change his powers, I will quote a charm
ing reply he made to me not long since. I had a very im
portant errand to perform, and requested him to accompaay

SENATE AT ALBANY. 155
me, as it happened to be one of those things which could
only be accomplished if under quite a favorable combination
of circumstances. I told him I would take the one chance,
out of many which I knew were against me, to succeed. In
obedience to his wise suggestions the much-desired result
was obtained, I said to him on the way back: "You see,
you were my guardian angel." "Ah, no!" he quickly
responded, " I was guardian to an angel!" This little inci
dent impressed me, because the affair was one of grave im
portance, and it serves to illustrate a truth most people have
experienced, that some of our friends are associated with our
blessings and others with our trials. Who has not known
those -who always fush to one with evil tidings, and often
with a gusto that would lead us to suspect there was consid
erable truth after all, in maxims of the great cynic, Roche
foucauld, who said that our friends found something pleasant
in our worst misfortunes ?
Mr. George H. Andrews was in the Senate of 1866, and
he had been there for two years just previous. He was a highly
cultured and amiable man, and our whole circle of acquaint
ances were attached to him. His family all died early, and
about three years since he was called upon to join them. Just
at the close of his term in the Senate there was a very strongly
expressed wish on his part and on the part of all the other
New York Senators, that Mr. Crowley should go to New
York City to live. In order to add to the already brilliant
allurements, an office was specially created for him, that of
Counsel to the Tax Commissioners' office, at ten thousand
dollars a year. Mr. Crowley made, perhaps, one of the
greatest mistakes of his life in declining, for fortune seldom
raps twice at one's door, and, instead of accepting the kind
offer, he presented the office to his then dear and trusted
friend, Chester A. Arthur. This continued long enough to
enable Mr. Arthur to extricate himself from the pecuniary
embarrassments which then troubled him, but which he so
despised in others when he became prosperous. It was not
alone the coat-of-arms, which spoke of long and spotless
pedigree, that he desired in his associates in the White
House, but also great fortunes, the Astors, the Vanderbilts
and many others with whom he never had the very slightest
acquaintance when living in New York. He demanded
money or blood. Genius he did not wish to be contrasted
with, and even beauty was never represented in the circle

156 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
that surrounded him. All this goes to prove that he must
have estimated himself at his proper value, after all. For
instance, he knew that Conkling would attract all eyes from
him in any assemblage, though he should wear a triple
crown. An unintentional compliment is always conveyed by
such people when they show their greatest favors to the
most ordinary. The object is at once apparent, it is the vain
endeavoring to make themselves appear great by being sur
rounded by those who are pygmies intellectually, and almost
repulsive physically. Then, their brief day over, they sink
into the ignominious oblivion they richly merit, for prosterity,
which turns for ages to pay homage at the tomb of genius,
were it only marked by the modest cross or tablet to tell of
the sacred ashes buried there, will never even pause to look
at the most stupendous mausoleum ever built which covers
the forgotten dust of gross men notorious by chance alone.
Gen. George. H. Sharpe, whom we constantly met at
Albany, has been for many years a power in the Republican
party in this state. He is more deeply interested in general
literature than most public men, and has the advantage of
being familiar with several languages, so that he can enjoy
the best works in the original. We are constantly told that
we miss the best of Goethe and Heine, of Racine and
Lamartine, and the rest, I remember the profound regret
expressed by some Germans, after attending a performance
of Schiller's " Mary Stuart," that we could not have heard it
in the native tongue. But, then, I do not think that Schiller has
all the proper conception of the character of the lovely and
most unfortunate Queen of Scots, The Union League Club
then, as now, gave superb receptions, but they were in the
old place, so full of joyous memories. I suppose the young
people who attend them to-day find them equally enchanting,
but " The mind will in its worst despair
Still ponder o'er the past,
On moments of delight that were
Too beautiful to last.
To long departed scenes extend
Its visions with them flown.
For Memory is the only friend
That Grief can call its own."
Sometimes, in a crowd, the very ones we wish to meet
are overlooked, or in hearing a great many names we fail

SENA TE AT ALB AN Y. 157
distinctly to catch them all, this being said to be the attribute
of royalty alone. At one of these balls I remember being
introduced to a gentleman who talked with great fluency and
eloquence, and I said to him that there was one man whom I
had a great desire to meet, as I had enjoyed his poems so ex
tremely. It was General Halpine, known in literature as
Miles O'Reilly, and it proved to be the very man with whom
I was conversing. I was much surprised, on meeting Mr.
A. T, Stewart, to find him a very plain, unassuming person,
with not the slightest aureole about him to prove him the
modern King Midas, Andrew Johnson then occupied the
Presidential chair, Abraham Lincoln, one of our greatest
men, having fallen by the assassin's hand only the summer
before, and Reuben E, Fenton was Governor during the first
two years of Mr, Cro-wlev's Senatorial career, being then
succeeded by Hoffman, On leaving Albany, Mr, Fenton
was elected United States Senator in the place of Edwin D,
Morgan, -who had filled the position with great dignity and
ability, Fenton's star was soon eclipsed by the brilliantly
rising one of Roscoe Conkling. This, ho-wever, was largely
due, in the first instance, to the fact that General Grant was
firm in his preference for Conkling, Thomas G. Alvord
was Lieutenant-Governor. The Senator from the First Dis
trict was Nicholas LaBau, afterwards a member of the
Assembly, and now dead. From the Second came Henry
R. Pierson, who is living in Albany, and is the Chancellor
of the Regents of the University. He was a general
favorite. Mr. Folger and Mr. Crowley were both very fond
of him, and, though it is some years since we have had the
pleasure of meeting him, his attractive personality is one
which can not be forgotten. From the Third came Mr.
Henry C. Murphy, of Brooklyn, a very prominent Demo
crat, who was, in Buchanan's administration, the Air.erican
Minister to the Hague. It was said of him that no man was
more conversant with the history of the Netherlands and our
relations to that power than he, inasmuch as he was perfectly
familiar with the Dutch language. His wife, who was a
very pleasant lady, spent a great deal of time with me in
Albany. Both Mr. and Mrs. Murphy passed away some
years ago. The Senator from the Fourth District was Ben
jamin Wood, a brother of the well-known Fernando Wood.
Both of these brothers were in Congress with Mr. Crowley
in the terms from 1879 to 1883. Charies G. Cornell repre-

IS8 ECHOES FRO-M NIAGARA.
sented the Fifth District, and Abraham Lent the Sixth. The
latter, I believe, died long ago.
The Seventh District sent Thomas Murphy, our esteemed
friend, to Represent it, and the Eighth sent Edrnund G,
.Sutherland, since dead, Henry R, Low, who came from the
Ninth, is also dead, and whether George Chambers, of the
Tenth, is living or not, I do not know, but I have been told
that Edward G. Wilbor, of the Eleventh, and James Gibson,
of the Twelfth, are both dead. Lorenzo D, Collins, of the
Thirteenth, is still living at Troy. Charles Stanford, of the
Fourteenth, died at Locust Grove, Niskayuna, August 24,
1885. What unspeakable sorrow this sad notice conveyed to
many hearts! Charles Stanford dead! That warm heart
stilled, that hand never again to be elapsed in the friendship
of old days, when he was one of the rare, bright spirits of
the Senate! Beautiful Locust Grove! What scenes of
merriment and mourning thy stately walls and grounds have
known! The joyous laugh of childhood, the greetings to
the bride, the tears falling over the face of the dead — called
from all thy loveliness and the fond and clinging affections
which made thee so dear! Soon after the election of Charles
Stanford to the Senate, the two children, Maude and Victor,
were born on Christmas Eve, These were the youngest
children, Victor died in his nineteenth year, only a few
months before his father. Before this sad event the eldest
daughter had married Mr, Williaih T, Wells, and since then
Maude has married Dr. H. S. Kinmouth. I believe there are
six children now living, three daughters and three sons.
Another son, Josiah, had died in 1873, being at that time a
student at Fort Edward Institute, as Victor had also just en
tered the Hudson River Institute the year before his death.
Senator Charles Stanford was not only a great man in
politics, but in business as well. He came of a very energetic
race. Two of his brothers are now ranked among the famous
millionaries of the world. One is United States Senator
Leland Stanford, formerly Governor of California, and the
other is Thomas Welton Stanford, of Melbourne, Australia,
His wife must have precious volumes of noble and tender
recollections to console her in his departure to a higher
destiny than the greatest of his earthly successors could ever
prophesy. And in her children she must see his shining
qualities of mind renewed, for in the writings of more than
one of them can be observed a high order of literary merit.

SENATE AT ALBANY. 159
The descriptions of a trip made by the family to California
in 1877 were beautifully written by the eldest daughter,
Nora, Mrs, Charles Stanford's life has been made up of
dazzling sunshine and darkest shadows, but yet it is a most
beautitul picture, after all !
Adam W, Kline, of the Fifteenth, is, I believe, living, and
Moss K, Piatt, of the Sixteenth, is dead, Abel Goddard, of
the Seventeenth, is still living, also John O'Donnell, of the
Eighteenth, Sarnuel Campbell, a native of Scotland, was
the Senator of the Nineteenth, which includes Oneida County,
the City of Utica and tiie town of York Mills, where he
lived, A fin? brand of cotton is produced there, I recall
him as a most picturesque and striking figure, with his
massive frame and his powerful head crowned with snow-
white hair. He also has gone over to the great majority,
George H. Andrews, of the Twentieth, died three years
since. John J. Wolcott, of the Twenty-First, has passed
from our knowledge, of late, and is still living, for aught I
know to the contrary. The Senator from the Twenty-
Second, Andrew D. White, is a distinguished scholar, and has
been American Minister to Berlin and President of Cornell
University, The following letter, written several years after,
when Mr, Crowley was in Congress, gives an idea of the
broad and patriotic mind of Senator White, It is on a theme
interesting to every American heart:
President's Rooms,
Cornell University,
Ithaca, New York, April 15, 1882,
Dear Mr. Crowley: — I have been requested to call your attention to
House Bill No. 4,347, in regard to monuments upon Revolutionary battle
fields. I can merely say that it seems to me a wise and patriotic measure,
calculated to relieve the country from the stigma of neglecting our most im
portant centers of patriotic inspirations. I am a firm believer, not only in
the justice of such monuments to the dead, but in their great value to the
living. I can assure you that there is no greater incentive to the sort of
effort which has made Germany so successful in war than the fact that, not
only on every great battle-field, but in towns, public places, and churches,
monuments, tablets and slabs in enduring marble bear the names and glorify
the deeds of those who fell in battle. It is unfortunate, in my judgment,
for any country to get into the habit of neglecting the sacrifice of those who
give their fives upon the field of battle. No one can tell how soon such
sacrifice may be needed. No nation has ever yet been relieved frgm them.
If any country in the world can afford to commemorate noble deeds of this

(6o ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
kind, ours can. Asking your favorable consideration in the matter, I re
main, Very truly yours. And. D. White.
The Hon. Richard Crowley,
House of Representatives, Washington, D. C.
I do not know whether James Barnett, of the Twenty-
Third, is living or dead. Ezra Cornell, the Senator from the
Twenty-Fourth, was the founder of the Cornell University
and the father of the Ex-Governor. He died some time ago.
Stephen K. Williams, of the Twenty-Fifth, is dead, and
Charles J. Folger, of the Twenty-Sixth, died at Geneva just
before the close of Arthur's administration. As I write
these words, I recall a saying frequent with him in his
melancholy moods: "Would that these words were written,
'Died at Geneva, Charles J. Folger'." And they were
written at last, written as, so soon they must be for all of his
contemporaries. Sad, indeed, it is to chronicle the death of
a dear friend, but sadder still to count the hearts grown cold
as years roll by, to miss the once cordial greeting, to m.ark
the change which success on the one side and misfortune on
the other brings about in lives which once blended in perfect
harmony. " They stand aloof, the scars remaining.
Like cliffs which have been rent assunder. "
Stephen Hayt, of the Twenty-Seventh, is still living, and
Thomas Parsons, of the Twenty-Eighth, is dead. Ex-Mayor
Parsons, of Rochester, is his son. Richard Crowley then
represented as Senator the Twenty-Ninth District. The
late Senator Wolcott J. Humphrey was a warm per
sonal friend of Mr. Crowley. He was in later years
engaged in the banking business at Warsaw. Always
deeply interested in politics, he was first a Whig, and after
wards a strong Republican. Daniel S. Bennett, of the
Thirt)'-First, is now living in Buffalo. Walter L. Sessions
represented the Thirty-Second. His brother, well known as
"Lo" Sessions, and himself, have long been active and suc
cessful in New York State politics. In this Senate of 1866
and 1S67 there was an immense Republican majority, only
five out of the thirty-two Senators being Democrats. Those
were the Senators representing the third, fourth, fifth, eighth,
and tenth districts. Gen. George S. Batcheller was on
Governor Fenton's staff while Mr. Crowley was in the

SENATE AT ALBANY. i6i
Senate. He was Brigadier-General Inspector-General. The
warm friendship then begun has never known a change or
wavering through all these succeeding years. The Hon.
Edmund L. Pitts, of Medina, Orleans County, was in
the Assembly all through that time, and has since been a
member of the Senate. I can pay Mr. Pitts three, at least,
very sincere compliments. He is a loyal friend, a staunch
Republican and a very fine speaker. Such men are by no
means so numerous as one would wish to have them. In
1868, the second term of Mr. Crowley's Senate life. Gen.
Stewart L. Woodford was Lieutenant-Governor. I have
always considered him an elegant scholar and a polished
gentleman. He was at one time most interested in the his
tory of ancient Greece, and wrote some veiy fine essays upon
it. This must be a theme to fire the poetic mind as well as the
patriotic, for there Lord Byron met his death, soon after his
prophetic poem written on completing his thirty-sixth year.
" Seek out, less often sought than found,
A soldier's grave, for thee the best ;
Then look around, and choose thy ground.
And take thy rest."
General Woodford was a delegate to the convention which
nominated Lincoln, and ever since has been a faithful and
efficient speaker in the Presidential campaigns. He also
figured prominently in the War of the Rebellion.
The First District, which then consisted of the Counties
of Suffolk, Queens and Richmond, was represented by
Lewis A. Edwards, a pronounced Democrat, since dead.
James F. Pierce, of Brooklyn, Democrat, was then Senator
from the Second, which included eleven wards of the city.
He is still in the Senate and is, I am told, as popular to-day
as of yore. I believe he is the only one left of the old
regime. I was interested to notice that, at the recent as
semblage of Indians at the Iroquois Hotel, Buffalo, our old
friend. Senator Pierce, was adopted into the Cayuge tribe,
under the name of Hah-yah-neh-sho-nis, which, translated,
means " The Island Law Maker." The Totem of the tribe
is • the Heron. In olden times this ceremony would
positively have made an Indian of the Senator, but now it
simply means brotherhood or comradeship. Having been
once the regent for the St. Regis Indians, the Senator felt a
special friendship for this much-abused race. He replied in

i62 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
his usual graceful style, assuring them that, while " on this
side of the river," he should be true and faithful. The
sympathy I feel for the Indians prompts me to a warm ap
preciation of this affair.
Henry C. Murphy was still Senator from the Third Dis
trict, which was made up of eleven wards of the City of
Brooklyn and five towns of the County of Kings. The
Fourth District, which comprised nine wards of New York
City, was represented by William M. Tweed, the noted
leader of Tammany Hall. There was then nothing to in
dicate the terrible experiences of his latter days. Senator
Michael Norton then represented District Number Five,
which comprised four wards of the City of New York. He
died about a year ago. He -was also a member of
Tammany Hall. Thomas J. Creamer was Senator from the
Sixth District of New York City, which was three wards.
He is a strong Democrat and is now Member of Assembly.
He has also been a Member of Congress, John J, Bradley,
the Democratic Senator from the Seventh District, which
comprised three wards of New York City, was a special
friend of Mr. Crowley and was very much liked by all the
other Senators, irrespective of party. He is still living in
New York, Henry Webb Genet was Senator from the
Eighth District, which consisted of three wards in New
York City. He was a genial and attractive man and a
Tammany Democrat. He died quite recently. The Ninth
District, represented by Senator William Cauldwell,
embraced the Counties of Westchester, Putnam and Rock
land. The Ex-Senator is now the editor of the New York
Mercury. In politics he is a Democrat. William M. Graham
was the Senator of the Tenth, composed of the Counties
of Orange and Sullivan. He was a Democrat also, and is now
dead. Abiah W. Palmer, the Republican Senator from the
Eleventh District, the Counties of Duchess and Columbia,
was an intimate friend of Mr. Crowley, and dear to all the
Senators. I have not been able to ascertain whether he is
still living, as he traveled a great deal for his health, which
was then not at all firm, but I would be delighted to hear from
him or some of his near friends once more. District Twelve,
the Counties of Rensselaer and Washington, was represented
by an able Republican Senator, Francis S. Thayer, now dead.
Senator A, Bleecker Banks was from the County of Albany,
the Thirteenth, He was very popular in the Senate in the

SENA TE AT ALBANY. 1 63
time of which I speak. He is a Democrat, and still lives in his
old home at Albany. He is widely known as the head of the
great house of Banks & Brothers, publishers of law-books.
A Democrat Senator, George Beech, represented the Four
teenth District, composed of the Counties of Greene and
Ulster. He died some time ago.
Senator Charles Stanford represented the Fifteenth Dis
trict, which included the Counties of Montgomery, Fulton,
Hamilton, Saratoga and Schenectady. Senator Matthew
Hale, a very able lawyer and a prominent Republican, still
living in Albany, represented the Sixteenth District, embrac
ing the Counties of Warren, Essex and Clinton. I have often
heard Mr. Crowley say that few men could equal Senator
Hale, either in delightful conversation or great reflective
power. He was one of a family of eighteen children.
Though we have not met him now for some years, I have been
told by his relatives here in Lockport that time only adds to
his genial charm of manner, and this proves to me that nature
constructed him out of her best material. If the juice and
spirit of the vine can only come to its rare perfection after
long years, then why should not the best minds ripen in the
process as well? Why should youth be the only season in
which blossom hope and kindness, these roses of the desert?
Such spirits as Matthew Hale's prove that the true El Dorado
is in the path before us, could we but see the sparkle of its
dazzling -wave. One observes in friendships formed early in
life that some, though delightful, are like the flowers in their
briefness. They exhale a sweet perfume, whose aroma returns
long afterwards, but the strands, which bound them to us
and once promised to be enduring, in the corroding of time
snap apart. Others, perhaps, from which at first we did not
dare to hope so much, sometimes prove to us in later years
that their chords were far-reaching and had grappled round
other lives, fast bound to our own. Of these is now the
name of Senator Matthew Hale, of Albany, whose brother,
Mr. Henry Hale, of St, Paul, Minnesota, we have since had
the pleasure to count among our friends, Mrs, Henry Hale
is a sister of Mrs, John Buck, of Lockport, whose children
are the dearest friends of my daughter, Alice, Thus now so
many bright links reach back to old Albany diiys that I am
willing to say with the poet:
" And on Fame-leaf and Angel-leaf
The name of Hale shall burn,"

1 64 ECHOES FROM NIA GAR A.
Still further the circle of interest is widened by the fact that
one of Mrs. Buck's daughters married Mr. Spalding Evans,
who is one of those beings we meet occasionally, though not
often, in these prosaic days, a veritable hero of romance. By
this I mean a young man who combines within himself all
the fascinations which make life charming, and yet possesses
the heroism to renounce them all, if by so doing he can make
the happiness of those dear to him. In ancient times such
men wore knightly armor and boasted of an escutcheon un
stained. We have changed all that, and it is harder to dis
cern them now in our monotonous garb of the Nineteenth
Century, Yet by the magic thrill, the indescribable glance,
we do knov/ them when we met them, after all, I often
think how his mother, the fair Alice Spalding, though her
life has known much sorrow, must appreciate this noble son.
When I was a school-girl, I remember how Austin Spalding
and his sister Kate were admired, not alone for beauty of
face and form, but of mind and heart as well. In elegant
manner and distinguished appearance, in fine accomplish
ments and amiable traits, Austin Spalding was the Admirable
Crichton of his native town, and strangely enough he mar
ried a beautiful woman, which is a thing handsome men
rarely do. She is also highly accomplished and educated, and
they have three fine sons. I always said they would adorn
a court, and my prediction has come as near being verified
as things ever are in this world. They have now at Brunswick
an opportunity to study those scenes of which they have read
and thought so much, the lovely Rhine, and all those alluring
spots, " Where all unite in one enchanting maze
The brilliant, fair and soft, the glories of old days."
The famous library of Mr. Ellicott Evans found its proper
place in the hands of his scholarly nephew, and as Mrs.
Evans shares her husband's literary tastes, their charming
home is really classic in its atmosphere. They are generally
admired, as, indeed, are all Mrs. Buck's attractive family. 1
told Mr. Hale, "Uncle Harry," as they call him, that it was
very easy for him to be a philosopher and rail at the ills of
life, for, like the possessor of the magical carpet in the
Arabian Nights, he could wander at will, accompanied by a
lovely wife and sparkling nieces, all over the globe, from the
sunny hills of Spain to the Egyptian pyramids, from the

SENA TE AT ALBANY. 165
lakes of Killarney to the Land of the Midnight Sun, and
back again, when the mood seized him to repose under the
Star Spangled Banner once more. To a mind as richly
stored as is that of Mr. Hale, with the vivid recollection of
the brightest sayings of the brightest authors, and always
ready with his choice collection of bon-mots wherewith to re
gale his friends, thus giving them a perpetual feast of reason
and flow of soul, philosophy is the natural result of culture
and reflection. What glorious company the profound reader
and scholar can always summon at will, and independently
of all surroundings, too! For Shakespeare will come with
all his retinue of kings and courtiers to visit the lonely garret
of the poor student, and Byron will weave his witching spell
of genius over the longing heart, weary with common life.
Scott, and Bulwer, and Lever, and Dickens, and Thackeray,
enchanters all! Upon the magic pages we glide into a higher
and better world beyond the cruel power of the low, the
sordid and the vile to follow, or to persecute!
The Counties of St, Lawrence and Franklin comprised the
Seventeenth District, of which Senator Abraham X. Parker
was the representative. He is a prominent Republican and
has served with distinction three terms in Congress. We
have pleasant associations connected with him in Washington,
as he is a particular friend, and generally much liked. The
Republican Senator, John O'Donnell, then represented the
Eighteenth, which was composed of the Counties of Jefferson
and Lewis. Senator Samuel Campbell's District was the
Nineteenth, Oneida County. He was a loyal Republican.
James B. Van Petten, the Republican Senator from the
Twentieth, Counties of Herkimer and Otsego, had a varied
career as clergyman, teacher, soldier and statesman. He is
now dead. Abner C. Mattoon was the Republican Senator
from the Twenty-First District, the Counties of Oswego and
Madison. He has been dead some years. Senator George
N. Kennedy, of the Twenty-Second, comprising the Counties
of Onondaga and Cortland, is now Justice of the Supreme
Court at Syracuse. Mr. Crowley always felt for him the
highest regard, and he was a popular and able Republican
Senator. John F. Hubbard, Jr., Senator from the Twenty-
Third, which consisted of the Counties of Delaware, Chenango
and Schoharie, is remembered as a very able and pleasant
gentleman. He was a decided Democrat. Whether he is
here to answer this roll-call I can not say — so many have

1 66 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
passed on. Senator Orlow W. Chapman, of the Twenty-
Fourth District, Broome, Tioga and Tomkins Counties, was
one of the finest members of the Senate. President Harrison
has just appointed him to be the Solicitor-General of the De
partment of Justice at Washington. Mr. Crowley considered
it one of the most fitting of all the honors conferred by the
new Administration. Senator Stephen K. Williams, Re
publican, represented the Twenty-Fifth District, the Counties
of Cayuga and Wayne, and Charles J. Folger the Twenty-
Sixth, Ontario, Yates and Seneca. The Republican Senator
of the Twenty-Seventh, Chemung, Schuyler and Steuben,
was John J. Nicks. His friendship was highly prized by
Mr. Crowley. He still lives, one of the few of the best of
that old band. The Twenty-Eighth District, County of
Monroe, was represented by the late Lewis H. Morgan, so
renowned as an authority on Indian historj'. He has given
us the most valuable account of these interesting people. He
belonged to the Republican party. Richard Crowley still
represented the Twenty-Ninth. Niagara, Orleans and
Genesee were at that time the counties embraced, though a
change has since been made in the district. Wolcott J.
Humphrey was from the Thirtieth, Wyoming, Livingston
and Allegany. Ashur P. Nichols, the Democratic Senator
from the Thirty-First, Erie County, died some years ago.
Senator Lorenzo Morris, of the Thirty-Second, Chautauqua
and Cattaraugus, still lives at his old home. He belongs to
the Democratic party, but is very much esteemed by friends
of both parties. During the term of Senator Nichols of Erie
County, Mr. and Mrs. John Ganson, of Buffalo, went to
Albany for a visit. We had often heard Mr. Folger speak
of them, for he had studied in the law-office of Mrs. Ganson's
father, Mr. Mark Sibley, of Canandaigua. We found them
all to be the most delightful company, both the Nichols and
the Gansons. Many years have passed away since those
days, but John Ganson's memory can never fade from the
minds of those who met and appreciated him.
James Terwilliger was the Clerk of the Senate and he
endeared himself to the entire body of men, not only by the
faithful performance of his duty, but by his untiring thought-
fulness and kindness to his friends. He has a very interest
ing family and an agreeable wife. They are now living in
New York City. Daniel Manning was reporter forthe
Albany Argus when Mr. Crowley first went to the Senate.

SENA TE AT ALBANY. 167
He was a powerful man in the Democratic party, and his
life seemed to rise step by step to a brilliant climax. He was
chairman of the Democratic State Committee, and head of
the New York delegation to Chicago in 1884. Grover
Cleveland owed to him his nomination and election to the
Presidency. He therefore quite properly presented him with
the portfolio of the Treasury Department. jVIr. Manning
did not long survive his well-earned glory, but died in the
full fruition of his hopes. That, at least, was better than to
depart with longings all unfulfilled, as many brave men do..
But somewhere, somehow, there must for these be a recom
pense! Mr. Grover Cleveland, when a citizen of Buffalo,
was often engaged with !Mr. Crowley in the trial of causes
in court, and, knowing him well for more than a quarter of
a century, he has never expressed the surprise felt by many
of the opposite party at his tremendous successes. His
career may be said to be a contrast to his friend Manning's,
for, while the one died just as the height was gained, the
other, having ascended the topmost pinnacle, must once more
join the dwellers in the valley. We hear much said of two
terms, or one longer term, but I think four years is quite long
enough for most men to occupy such a place of power.
General Grant was the only man I ever saw with a head
quite level enough to bear it for long. The tyrant in man
kind is so soon awakened, and justice is so easily lulled to
sleep !
I cannot write or think of Albany without tender remin
iscences of some dear friends I visited there, in the very first
days of Mr. Crowley's term in the Senate. They were a
branch of the McGraws, of Ithaca. We first met them many
years ago on a trip on the St. Lawrence River to Quebec and
Montreal. At that time the Thousand Islands were un
tenanted, and, where now flash forth over the waters the
brilliant lights of the hotels, and floats the merry sounds of
many voices of gay guests, naught then was heard save the
murmuring of the river or the boatman's song so sweetly
rendered by Moore, who once passed "through those rapids:
" Saint of this green isle, hear our prayers !
O, grant us cool heavens and favoring airs ;
Blow breezes, blow, and the stream run fast.
The Rapids are near and the daylight 's past ! "
That was a joyous time, but since then these dear friends

i68 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
have been engulfed in the Rapids of Life. They were not
tossed upon the stream long enough to grow weary, but
were snatched away in their early prime. So many lost, and
gone and scattered of the old Albany list of 1866, and yet
none are forgotten ! Other Senates may assemble and pass
away, but never one in the Empire State can excel in fire,
and eloquence, and glory that one of long ago!

CHAPTER V.
United States Attorneyship of the Northern
District of New York,
" We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge
us by what we have already done." — Longfellow.
My first visit to Washington was in 1871. A pleasant
party went with us from New York City, where we were,
as usual, visiting Mrs. Thomas Murphy. Mr. Folger and
Mr. Bliss were then in their happiest moods. Mr. Bliss is
one of the wittiest of men and the best raconteur I have ever
met. At that time his epigrammatic retorts were famous.
Owing to the fact that Mrs. Murphy was in mourning for
her beloved niece, Lizzie, and could not go to the gay recep
tions, Mrs. Roscoe Conkling kindly undertook the task of
introducing me to the celebrities of the day. What she told
me then I afterwards observed for myself, that the glory of
popular idolatry is a brief one. She first introduced me to
General Sherman, at whose house we paid a visit. The hero
was then, as now, surrounded by friends and admirers, al
though the pathetic interest of to-day was of course absent,
for he stands alone, the last of a brilliant band. Through all
these years I have enjoyed meeting him in Washington or
New York, and since so many of our great chieftains have
been called to the unknown shore, I dread the voice of the
Death Angel who shall summon to the Grand Reunion,
William Tecumseh Sherman,
At a dinner-party at Senator Conkling's, during this visit,
I was much amused at hearing for the first time, and from
the hostess herself, the story of how the beautiful Mrs,
Margaret Eaton broke up the Cabinet of General Jackson.
It seems she was the dear friend of the wife he so fondly

UNITED STATES ATTORNEYSHIP. 169
loved, and when, at the suggestion of General Eaton being
offered a Cabinet position, the wives of the other members
immediately declared their intention of socially ignoring Mrs.
Eaton, the President replied : " Let them do so at their peril ! "
The result was that Jackson compelled the husbands of those
ladies to resign their positions, and a new Cabinet was
formed. It is said that he first appealed to John C. Calhoun
to induce his wife to visit Mrs, Eaton, but the aristocratic
southerner declined, saying he left Mrs, Calhoun to judge
alone for herself in these matters. Then Martin Van Buren
came to the rescue of persecuted beauty, giving some very
gorgeous fetes in honor of the fair dame who proved such an
apple of discord, thereby gaining forever the warm friend
ship and championship of the President. This was a grand
trait in the character of Andrev^- Jackson, constancy to wife
and friends. Some of the relentlessly severe women of this
world would do well to ponder on the story of Christ and
the penitent Magdalen, especiallj- when He tells those with
out sin to cast the first stone.
" Thou that hast slept in error's sleep.
Oh, wouldst thou wake in Heaven,
Like Mary kneel, like Mary weep,
Love much, and be forgiven ! "
It is a fact, which every observing mind must note, that the
purest women are the most charitable towards others. There
is no one so unmerciful to the erring as those whose own lives
would not bear inspection, and who in their censures are
more moved by envy than religion.
Mr. Boutwell was then Secretary of the Treasury, and
his charming familv were the intimate friends of both the
Grants and the Conklings, On my first visit to the White
House, under the wing of Mrs, Conkling, I was escorted
through the rooms by Governor Morgan, then Senator from
the State of New York, one's beau-ideal of a stately gentle
man. Clarkson N. Potter was also with us on that day. I
believe he died some time before Governor Morgan, In
March, 1871, Mr. Crowley received the appointment of
United States District Attorney from General Grant, an
oflSce he continued to hold for eight years, during which time
new friendships were formed and old ones renewed. This
Northern District of New York extends from Albany to
Buffalo, including those two cities, a distance of three bun-

I70 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
dred miles, and from the Pennsylvania line to the Canada
line. The March term of the United States Court being
held in Utica each year, the home of the Conklings, that
blustering month seemed in those days to wear for me the
charm of the later spring. I always, if possible, accom
panied my husband there in the hope of meeting them. In
the storms of the past few years our paths have drifted some
what apart, but never, while life and reason last, shall I for
get my early friendship for .the wife of Roscoe Conkling.
We never had in America a woman more deserving of
esteem, and she has proved herself worthy of the race from
which she sprung, the Seymours, of whom her brother,
the celebrated Horatio, ranks among our greatest and best
statesmen. We met at Utica Judge Mason and his wife, a
truly magnificent pair. The Judge was a highly gifted
man, and so upright and conscientious that this earth held no
bribe high or rich enough to tempt him for a single instant
from the path to the Paradise he now enjoys. His accom
plished and devoted wife sadly survives him, and, whenever
I think of her, I recall the lines of Bishop Heber on the
death of his beloved spouse :
" Wait for me there, I shall not fail
To meet thee in that narrow vale,
For, hark ! my heart, like a soft drum.
Beats my approach, tells thee I come ! "
I never knew people more completely in unison than this
couple, and I attribute it to the fact that Mrs. Mason was
such an intelligent and lofty-minded woman. If only such
men as Judge Mason wore the ermine of this world, "of
fense's gilded hand" would never "shove by Justice."
Close by the Conklings' beautiful home at Utica lived the
family of Nicholas Devereux. I believe Mrs. Devereux was
a sister of Senator Francis Kernan. Though one would
have predicted for them a long life, it seemed but a short
time afterwards I learned of the death of both.
In this, my early glimpse of Washington, I was much sur
prised to find that the people of whom I had heard and read
most were the ones in whom I felt least interested. Beauty
in -women, I saw at once, was only a fictitious thing, depend
ent upon the whims of the newspaper reporters or the word
of those whose interest it was to praise the people who were
in power. In the glamour that surrounds a throne people

UNITED S TA TES A TTORNE YSHIP. 1 7 1
outside do not see clearly, people inside do not hear clearly;
thus they are both continually deceived, until the awakening
comes and the dream is past. It is not, therefore, strange
that those who have held high places feel dazed on entering
the real world again, and that they always try desperately,
in spite of former promises, to hold the reins of power. At
the time Mr. Crowley was United States Attorney for this
Northern District, Mr. Thomas Murphy was Collector of the
Port in New York City.
" All this was in the golden prime
Of good Haroun-al-raschid ! "
In Other words, it was in the Grant regime, one of the most
glorious our country can ever know. Even if Grant had not
been, as he was one of the greatest men that ever lived on
earth, it would have been a noted period in our history as a
nation, and especially in our New York State politics. Men
of large hearts and great brains were at the front then, and
when one observes those who have since crawled to the sur
face, and now attempt to take the places of the great leaders
forever and ever gone, the contrast is most painful and dis
heartening. Sic transit gloria mundi ! It is true that Mr.
Murphy resigned his office, but the rare privilege was given
him of naming his own successor. He thereupon chose
Chester A. Arthur, this being the sole reason, as all the
world knew, why Grant appointed him. The clamor
which caused the resignation never moved the dauntless soul
of General Grant. As President he was as brave as when
the waves of rebellion dashed over him in vain. One of
his most superb traits was his eternal and well-known fidel
ity to his friends. "Never desert a friend under fire," was
one of his favorite sayings. This alone would prove him
truly great. In all history, as in daily life, it is observed
that the small characters, on being suddenly elevated to some
high station, at once proceed to ignore their friends of for
mer days, especially those who contributed most to their
success. Great minds and noble hearts can never be crushed
by adversity nor hardened by prosperity. A bright volume
could be written of the beautiful stories of Grant's gratitude.
One of the greatest pleasures, and, alas! one that we can
not hope to have much, longer, is to hear these delightful
reminiscences from the eloquent fips of General Sherman

172 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
himself. He told me that an old French woman of St.
Louis, who was a staunch friend in early days, was the first
to whom the great man paid the tribute of a visit when he
returned from the war covered with glory. When the dy
ing hero was looking into the face of that foe before whom
the bravest warrior must bow, he singled out among the
names of those who should be his pall-bearers, that of Simon
Bollivar Buckner! They had been on opposite sides in the
great conflict, but long before, in the days when they were
young together and no shadow of the awful future was be
fore them, this man had been a friend in the hour of need.
Not until its last pulse-beat could the impulse of grateful
fidelity be stilled in the heart of Ulysses S. Grant. I am
still proud to trace upon the state document, conferring this
office upon my husband, the hero's name. I am also justly
proud of the grand array of names on the paper -which was
submitted to the President by Senator Roscoe Conkling.
Of course many of these bright names are now carved upon
the silent toml), but they will forever shine in the records of
the Empire State. At least let me inscribe them here:
To the President of the United States :
Richard Crowley, of Lockport, New York, desires to be appointed to the
office of United States Attorney for the Northern District of New York,
and presents endorsements, asking such appointment, from the following
persons residing in said district and State of New York :
Hon. C. J. Folger, Judge of N. Y. State Court of Appeals.
Hon. Ward Hunt, Judge of N. Y, State, Commissioner of Appeals.
Hon. I. L. Talcott, Justice of Supreme Court of New York.
Hon. Chas. Daniels, Justice Supreme Court of New York.
Hon R. P. Marvin, Justice Supreme Court of New York.
Hon. Thos A. Johnson, Justice Supreme Court of New York.
Hon. George Barker, Justice Supreme Court of New York.
Hon. E. Darwin Smith, Justice Supreme Court of New York,
Hon. Noah Davis, U. S. Attorney, Southern District of New York.
Hon. L. N. Bangs, County Judge, Genesee County, N. Y.
Hon. J. G. Sawyer, County Judge, Orleans County, N. Y.
H. A. Childs, District Attorney, Orleans County, N. Y.
Hon. S. G. Headley, Register in Bankruptcy, Seneca County, N, Y.
Hon. E. G. Lapham, and others, Ontario County, N. Y.
Hon. D. Rumsey, Steuben County, N. Y.
Hon. Stewart L. Woodford.
Hon Thomas Hillhouse, Sub. Treasurer, New York City.
Hon. Roswell Hart, Ex-Member of Congress, Rochester, N. Y.
Wm. Tyrell, Chairman Republican Genesee County Committee.
Hon. E. L. Pitts, Ex-Speaker New Ymk Assembly, Orleans County.
Hon. G. G. Hoskins, Ex-Speaker N. Y. Assembly, Wyoming County.

UNITED STATES ATTORNEYSHIP. -173
W. H. Merrill, Editor Western New Yorker, Wyoming County.
Hon. W. J. Humphrey, Chairman Rep. Committee, W^yoming County.
Hon. John A. Griswold, Troy N. Y.
Hon. Thomas C. Acton, New York City.
Hon. Wm. Pool, editor Niagara Falls Gazette.
Hon. lohn O'Donnell, Supervisor Internal Revenue, N. Y.
Hon. J. H. Selkreg, Member of Assembly, Tompkins County, N. Y.
T. E. Ellsworth, Collector of Customs, Suspension Bridge, N. Y.
Hon. G. D. Lamont, Ex- Justice Sup. Court, N. Y., Lockport, N. Y.
Hon. C. H. Holmes, Ex-Member Congress, Orleans County, N. Y.
Hon. John Fisher, Ex-Member Congress, Genesee County, N. V.
Hon. Matthew Hale, Ex-State Senator, Albany, N. Y.
George Dawson, editor Albany Evening Journal, N. Y.
Hon. J. M. Francis, editor Troy Daily limes, N. Y.
Hon. F. A. Alberger, Member Assembly, Buffalo, N. Y.
lion. J. E. Pound, Member of Assembly, Lockport, N. Y.
Hon. L. R. Sanborn, Member of Assembly, 2d District, Niagara Co.
Hon. John Berry, Member of Assembly, Orleans County, N. Y.
Hon. V. G. Knapp, Member of Assembly, Genesee County, N. Y.
Ex-Senator and Governor E. D. Morgan.
Hon. Richard Franchot, Ex-Member of Congress, Schenectady, N. Y.
Hon. J, I. Nicks, Ex-State Senator, Elmira, N. Y.
CONCURRED IN BY
Hon. H. Boardman Smith, Member Cong., 27th Dist., Elmira, N. Y.
Hon. W. L. Sessions, Member Congress, 31st Dist., Panama, N. Y.
Hon. C. L. Merriam, Member Congress, 20th Dist., Lewis Co., N. Y.
Hon. John H. Ketcham, Member Cong., nth Dist., Dutchess Co., N. Y
Hon. S. Wakeman, Member Cong., 29th Dist , Genesee, Co., N. Y.
Hon. Ellis H. Roberts, Member Congress, 21st Dist., Utica, N. Y.
Hon. Andrew D. White, Ex-State Senator, Commissioner San Domin
go, Syracuse, N. Y.
Hon. T. T. Flagler, Ex-Member Congress, Lockport, N. Y.
REPUBLICAN MEMBERS OF THE NE^VV YORK STATE SENATE.
LETTERS AND PETITION.
Hon. Francis S. Thayer, 12th District.
Hon. James Wood, 30th District.
Hon. A. D. Scott, 32d District.
Hon. A. R. Elwood, 20th District.
Hon. W. B. Woodin, 25th District.
Hon. T. L. Winier, 27th District.
Hon. A. V. Harpending, 26th District.
Hon. O. W Chapman, 24th District.
Hon. George Bowen, 29th District.
Hon. W. H Brand, 21st District.
Hon. N. Winslow, l8th District.
Petition of all the Members of the Niagara County Republican County
Committee.

174- ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
PETITION OF THE FOLLOWING MEMBERS OF THE REPUBLICAN
STATE COMMITTEE.
A. B. Cornell, Chairman, Surveyor, N. Y.
L. L. Doty, Secretary.
George Opdyke, Treasurer.
C. B. Martin, editor Newburgh Daily Journal.
C. A. Arthur.
S. T. Maddox.
R. W Daniels, Collector of Customs, Buff'alo, N. Y.
C. S. Cole, Assessor Internal Revenue, 27th District.
H. Gardner.
H. S. Brown.
J. Hammond.
Levi Blakeslee, Collector Internal Revenue, Utica.
E. Blakeley.
H. S. Vande Carr.
S. B. French.
E. D. Webster.
George H. Sharpe, U. S. Marshall, Southern District, N. Y.
Ben. Field.
W. H Robertson, Ex-Member Congress, lOth District, N. Y.
T. J. Chatfield.
Albert Jewett. LETTERS.
John A. Place, Oswego Commercial Advertiser.
J. T. Williams.
Hon. S. B. Dutcher, Supervisor Internal Revenue.
S. C. Hutchins, editor Democrat and Chronicle, Rochester, N. Y.
M. C. Richardson, editor Lockport Daily Journal.
Hon. Chas. Stanford, Ex-Senator, Schenectady, N. Y.
George Bliss, Jr.
Tmair, Smith & Co. , editors Syracuse Daily Journal.
Hon. Thomas Murphy, Collector of Port of New York City.
Hon. William Orton, Ex-Commissioner Internal Revenue and Presi
dent Western Union Telegraph Company.
Petition of Hon. John H. Reynolds and twenty-two others, members
of the Albany bar.
Letter, Hon. Wm. H. Lamport, Member Congress, 2Sth Dist., N. Y.
Hon. John E. Seeley, Member Congress, 24th Dist., N. Y.
Hon. Chas. St. Johns, Member Congress, nth Dist., Port Jervis, N. Y,
I have carefully treasured the commissions, bearing dates
of March 23rd 187 1, and March 3rd, 1875, respectively.
Here is a cop}' of the first:
ULYSSES S, GRANT.
president of THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA,
To all who shall see these presents., greeting :
Know ye. That, reposing special trust and confidence in
the integrity, ability and learning of Richard Crowley, I

UNITED S TA TES A TTORNE YSHIP. 175
have nominated, and, by and with the advice and consent of
the Senate, do appoint him attorney of the United States, in
and for the Northern District of New York, and do author
ize and empower him to execute and fulfill the duties of that
office according to law, and to have and to hold the said office,
with all the powers, privileges and einoluments to the same
of right appertaining unto him, the said Richard Crowley,
for the term of four 3-ears from the date of the date hereof,
subject to the conditions prescribed by law. In testimony
whereof, I have caused these letters to be made patent, and
the seals of the United States to be hereunto affi.xed. Given
under my hand, at the City of Washington, the twenty-
third day of March, in the year of our Lord one thousand
and eight-hundred -and-seventy-one, and of the Independ
ence of the United States of America, the ninety -fifth.
By the President,
[l, S.J U. S. Grant.
Hamilton Fish, Secretary of State.
The young and gifted nephew of the great New York
Senator, Judge Alfred Conkling Coxe, of Utica, said to Mr.
Crowley once, in a graceful note of thanks for some slight
service rendered when in Congress: "I believe there is some
special magic in the letters R. C." They were certainly
favorable to the star of his destiny, for the two R. C's to
whom he referred in his letter, Roscoe Conkling and Richard
Crowley, the one his distinguished kinsman and the other
his devoted friend, were always sincerely rejoiced to be in
strumental in promoting his well-deserved success. These
initials were not the only points of resemblance that can be
traced, though in temperament Mr. Crowley and Mr. Conk
ling are as opposite as the antipodes. But to both the exper
ience came that those from whom they suffered most, in the
way of calumny, were those whose lives were made successful
by their efforts. I do not hesitate to aver that Mr. Crowley's
bitterest enemies at this moment are the ones who really rest
under deepest obligations to him, and Mr. Conkling said to
me, not long before his death, that, though he had benefitted
many to the utmost stretch of his ability to do so, if he
accidentally met one of those men and he did not prove
malignantlv hostile, it was a pleasant surprise. Senator
Conkling, who, through General Grant, possessed a power

176 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
in New York State which no President has since granted to
any Senator, ardently endorsed Mr. Crowley's name for the
office of United States Attorney. The press spoke in the
kindest and most approving terms of both the first and the
second appointments. Said one: "Mr. Crowley is to-day
among the first Republicans of the State in influence, official
and social standing." In the trial of the famous Central
Railroad tax case, in 1874, the Press of the State were almost
unanimous in their commendations. This great case was first
tried at Canandaigua against Conkling, Fairchild and El
more, and afterwards against Choate and Fairchild. Mr.
Fairchild was the father of Cleveland's Secretary of the Treas
ury, succeeding Secretary Manning, and was for many years
general counsel for the New York Central Railroad. Judge
Wallace, whose appointment was recommended by Senator
Conkling, was the presiding Judge. Said the Albany Jour
nal: " The Central Railroad Tax case has been on trial
before the United States Court at Canandaigua during the
past week. District Attorney Crowley conducts it in a very
able and thorough manner on the part of the Government,
and Senator Conkling and Mr. Fairchild represent the other
side, making a trial which in its forensic displays, as -well as
in the magnitude of its issue involved, is one of great interest."
Day by day, as the celebrated case drew near its close, public
opinion seemed to be unanimous that Mr. Crowley had won
the victory over his formidable array of opponents. Much
to the surprise of every one, the trial was postponed from
Saturday to Monday, when it was supposed that an hour
longer would have settled it. Judge Wallace then directed
the jury to bring a verdict for the Central Railroad people.
I remember how all the jurymen came to Mr. Crowley and
expressed their disappointment at this unexpected change in
affairs, and assured him that every one of them would have
been on his side in the matter if allowed to act. I wish right
here to throw down the gauntlet of defiance to those who
once dared to assert that Mr. Crowley made an unjust crit
icism on the professional action of Mr. Conkling on this or
any other occasion. Because, at one time later on, in Wash
ington, he made the assertion, on being attacked for attending
to a law-suit during his Congressional term, that it was per
fectly proper and customary, that Mr. Conkling and many
others did the same thing, he was publicly accused of assert
ing an untruth about the Senator. I believe no one will

UNITED STATES ATTORNEYSHIP. 177
venture to dispute that Conkling was in the .Senate when
this Railroad Tax case was tried. The fact is indisputable
that, in the brilliant and now ended career of Roscoe Conk
ling, he had no friend more loyal than Richard Crowley.
The Buffalo Commercial, then edited by the late James
D. Warren, said : " We learn from the Lockport Journal
that, immediately after the decision of Judge Wallace, a stay
of proceedings was granted, and Mr. Crowley, as the prose
cuting counsel, took measures to carry the case to the highest
tribunal. At the same time he telegraphed his action to
the department and requested its endorsement, which was
promptly given. If ever there was a case 'that had to be
decided purely upon questions of law, we suppose that this
is one. If ever a trial was contested on its legal merits, this
was. The company was represented by the Hon, Roscoe
Conkling, and of course he made the best possible presenta
tion of their case. But his argument, as it has been described
to us, was simply a calm and unvarnished statement of the
legal points in his favor. There was no occasion for a dis
play of eloquence. The department was represented by the
Hon. Richard Crowley, LTnited States District Attornej',
and it is no disparagement to the great ability of his dis
tinguished opponent to say that the points against the railroad
were quite as ably presented as were those in its favor. The
only unprejudiced conclusion, therefore, is that the company
had the best of the case in the estimation of the Court." The
result of Mr. Crowley's appeals to the Supreme Court is
given in the extract from an article in the Buffalo Com
mercial Advertiser., April 10, 1875: "In our telegraphic
despatches of the 7th inst. it was announced that, in the case
of the New York Central & Hudson River Railroad Com
pany vs. John Bailey, the Supreme Court of the United
States had reversed the judgment of the United States Cir
cuit Court for this District. Mr. Crowley, the able District
Attorney of the Northern District of New York, has fairly
earned his laurels in this sharply contested case." Many
other papers also noted the fact that the Supreme Court, in
deciding, took the same ground and reasons used by Mr.
Crowley, thereby endorsing him in the highest possible way.
I think the best history of the case is given in the Lockport
Jour?ial, April 8, 1S75, which is as follows :

178 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA
IMPORTANT DECISION.
THE NEW YORK CENTRAL AND HUDSON RI^¦ER RAILROAD
TA.X CASE PASSED UPON BY TIIE UNITED
STATES SUPREME COURT.
"It will be remembered that some time since we published
an account of the case of the N. Y. C. & H. R. Railroad
Company against John M. Bailey, late Collector of Internal
Revenue at Albany, N. Y. The suit was brought in the
Supreme Court of this state in May, 1873, to recover the
sum of $550,173.60 and interest, which the company claimed
had been illegallj- collected from them as tax on interest
certificates issued by them in December, 1868. The defend
ant was the collector, who enforced payment of the tax,
but the United States was the real party in interest, and the
action was to decide whether or not the sum sued for should
be taken from the treasury of the United States and paid
over to the company. By direction of the Commissioner of
Internal Revenue, Hon. Richard Crowley, United States
District Attorney, appeared for the defendant and caused the
case to be removed from the State Court into the United
States Circuit Court of this district, where it was tried
before Judge Wallace, holding the Circuit Court, and a jury
at Canandaigua in the last days of June and the first days of
July, 1874. Hon. Roscoe Conkling and S. T. Fairchild,
E'q., of Albany, appeared for the companj-, and Mi".
Crowley conducted the case on the part of the defense.
The trial occupied several days and consisted mainly in the
argument by counsel of various questions of law. The
arguments of counsel on both sides were able and exhaustive.
After the interest certificates of December, 186S, had been
issued by the New York Central Railroad Company, that
company, in November, 1869, consolidated with the
Hudson River Railroad Company, under authority of an
act of the Legislature of the State of New York, passed in
May, 1S69, authorizing the consolidation of railroad com
panies, taking the name of the New York Central and
Hudson River Railroad Company, The assessment under
the Internal Revenue Law was in March, 1870, and after
such consolidation, and in form was against the New York
Central and Hudson River Railroad Company, Three
legal propositions were presented by this assessment. First,
was the assessment regular upon its face? Second, was

UNITED S TA TES A TTORNE YSHIP 179
it valid, being against the New York Central and Hudson
River Railroad Company, the interest certificates having
been issued by the New York Central Railroad Company?
Third, were the interest certificates taxable under the
Internal Revenue Laws, they being made payable in the
future at the option of the company and out of its future
earnings? Upon the trial of the case the Court held: First,
that the assessment was regular upon its face. Second,
that the assessment was proper and valid against the New
York Central and Hudson River Railroad Company, under
the provisions of the Act of the Legislature of the State of
New York, May, 1869. But held: Thirdly, that the in
terest certificates in question were not taxable under the
provisions of the Internal Revenue Acts, and directed the jury
to render a verdict for the company for the full amount
involved, with interest, to wit: $600,891.13. Mr, Crowley
took an exception to this ruling and direction of the Court,
and a stay of proceedings for sixty days was granted to enable
him to prepare a bill of exceptions and remove the case to
the Supreme Court of the United States by writ of error.
Within the sixty days thus -granted Mr, Crowley had pre
pared and settled a proper bill of exceptions, sued out a writ
of error and removed the case into the Supreme Court of
the United States, In the Supreme Court of the United
States the case was argued in March last, and that Court has
just announced its decision in the case, as will be seen by the
following telegraphic dispatch from Washington: Washing
ton, April 6, The following decision has been rendered by
the Supreme Court: No. 538, Bailey, Collector, versus the
New York Central and Hudson River Railroad Company.
Error to the Circuit Court for the Northern District of New
York. The Court decides this case against the Company,
holding that the interest certificates issued by the Central
road before the consolidation with the Hudson Ri\er road,
payable at the pleasure of the company, are properly taxable
under the act of 1866, which provides that dividends declared
by a railroad company, in scrip or money, due and payable to
their stockholders as part of the earnings, profits, income or
. gains of such company, and all the profits of such company
carried to the amount of any fund, or used for construction,
are proper objects of taxation. By the terms of the act a
dividend in scrip declared by such a company as a part of its
earnings, is subject to the tax whenever or whatever or to

i8o ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
whatsoever party or person the same shall be payable. What
is required to be due is the scrip, and not the funds, money
or proceeds which it represents. Beyond doubt such scrip
becomes operative and due within the meaning of the
Revenue Act when it is unconditionally declared, without
containing any provision postponing its effect. Mr. Justice
Clifford delivered the opinion.
' In the Circuit, before Judge Wallace, it was maintained
by Mr. Crowley, among other things, that there was no
reasonable doubt but that the interest certificates in question
were taxable under the provisions of the Internal Revenue
Law, and it will be seen from the decision of the Supreme
Court that his views have been sustained upon this as well
as upon all other legal propositions involved in the case, and
the result may be justly regarded as a brilliant and important
legal triumph for Mr. Crowley. The decision also saves to
the Government, not only the amount of this controversay,
but hundreds of thousands of dollars yet uncollected and
awaiting the decision of this case. Many of our cotempo
raries have been intemperate and unjust in their criticisms
to-wards Mr. Conkling for acting as counsel against the
Government in this case. The result has shown the charge
that the courts and public officials were influenced in their
action towards the case by Mr. Conkling's political position
was absurd, if not malicious.
A correspondent from Washington, alluding to the repeated
postponement of the later or second trial of the case, after
the Supreme Court decision, said: Washington, Jan. i6th.
" Some years ago the New York Central and Hudson River
Railroad Company increased its capital stock from $60,-
000,000 to $130,000,000 by the issue of a stock dividend of
(oo per cent., on the ground that the property of the road
had doubled in value and that its earnings were sufficient to
pay the maximum legal dividends upon such increased
amount. The Internal Revenue officers promptly assessed
such stock dividend as a division of the accumulated profits
upon which railroads were bound, under the law, to pay an
internal tax. The railroad company refused to pay, and
their property was restrained. The tax, amounting to ,
$400,000 was then paid under protest, and the railroad
company immediately brought suit for recovery. Judgment
was given against the United States. The Government
appealed the case to the Supreme Court of the United States,

UNITED S TA TES A TTORNE YSHIP. 1 8 1
and this tribunal unanimously declared that the tax was prop
erly due, reversed the decision of the Court below and
ordered a new trial before the Circuit Court of the
United States at Albany. The railroad company, for reasons
of its own, has caused the new trial of the case to be post- ¦
poned from term to term, and the United States has been
unable to prevent such repeated postponements. At last, in
the summer of 1877, a stipulation was entered into and made
a part of the record of the court, assigning a certain day,
January i6th, 1878, for the trial of the cause, and agreeing that
there should be no further postponement. Notwithstanding
this agreement of record, the railroad company sought by
various pretexts to secure further delay. Natm-ally it would
be presumed that the government having the money already,
would be indifferent to the postponement of a suit to recover,
and that the company would be anxious for an early decision.
In this instance, however, the United States is anxious for a
speedy termination of the suit, because it has another claim
against the same company for three-quarters of a million
more, which stands in abeyance until the present case shall be
finally disposed of. There are other reasons, known only to
the law officers of the Government, why the public interests
require speedy action. For the same reason, and others, the
railroad seeks delay. Among those other reasons is the
possible one that the present District Attorney of the Northern
District of New York, who is familiar with the case, and
whose fidelity to the Government has been tried and proved,
even against the New York Central and Hudson River
Railroad Company, is expected to retire on the 4th of March,
next, and that a friend of Mr. William M. Evarts is to be
appointed to the position. Evarts, Southmayd and Choate
are the attorneys for the railroad company in this suit. It
appears that, on Saturday last, an order was issued by
Attorney- General Devens, at the request of Mr. Evarts,
directing District Attorney Crowley to assent to a further
postponement of the trial of the suit of the New York
Central and Hudson River Railroad Company against the
United States heretofore assigned for to-day. Inquiry
further develops the fact that Mr. Evarts had likewise made
a request to the Secretary of the Treasury to consent to such
order, and that the Secretary partially promised Mr. South
mayd that he would consider the subject, while the Attorney
General fully promised Mr. Choate that the request should

i82 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
be complied with. It further appears that neither the
Internal Revenue Bureau, which, under the law, has exclusive
charge of suits of this character, nor the District Attorney
immediately in charge of the case, was consulted in the
matter, or even informed of the fact of the postponement
of the trial until rumor of such action reached them
through the counsel for the other side, and that the District
Attorney, upon such rumor and prior to the receipt of his
instructions, telegraphed to the department his earnest pro
test against postponement, upon the ground that the public
interests would be injured thereby, and that such protest was
reiterated by the Commissioner of Internal Revenue, but
without avail."
Said an Albany paper: "We happen to know that Dis
trict Attorney Crowley made unusual and most complete
preparations for this trial, equipping himself with every
weapon of law, authority and reason to make the strongest
possible fight. He did make a most able, brilliant and resolute
fight, all the more vigorous and determined because Mr.
Conkling was his antagonist." In the second trial of this
celebrated case, at Utica, I was present myself, and I shall
never forget the intense and most flattering interest of all the
young lawyers of the city, and their kind hopes and wishes
for Mr. Crowley. And dear, kind. Judge Mason was utterly
amazed at the decision of the Court, and did not hesitate to
say that, if he had been on the Bench, he should have decided
directly to the contrary.
A great fire, which occurred at Lockport in 1881, a mem
orable one because it was then that Mr. John Hodge's beauti
ful Opera-House was destroyed, and Mr. Crowley's office
connected with his Government office being situated in the
same building, burned up, unfortunatel}-, all the papers con
nected with the other great trials in which Mr. Crowley was
engaged, the Fort Niagara murder case, the Susan B. Anthony
case, and the Ballard Counterfeiting case. Almost the only
thing I remember about the Women's Voting Case is that I
was very much fascinated by the fine address and preposess-
ing appearance of Mrs. Elizabeth Cady Stanton, who was
the only one of the ladies I had the pleasure of meeting. A
coincident in regard to this great and disastrous fire at Lock-
port was that it occurred at the time of the Senatorial Contest
at Albany, in which Mr, Crowley, Mr, Piatt and others were
engaged, Shakespeare wisely said, " Our troubles come not

UNITED STATES ATTORNEYSHIP. 183
in single spies, hut in battalions." Mr. Hodge could, with
his wealth and enterprise, bid a new 02Dera- House to rise.
Phoenix-like, from the ashes of the one of which his city \Vas
so proud, but from the ashes of the buried hopes and friend
ships, which were the result of that fiercer political fire, there
arose no new structure to take the place of the old! No
palace of trust and hope sprung in beauty from the ruins there.
It was the beginning of the end, as all who have impartially
studied New York State politics will admit, for if men like
these could deceive and betray, where then could we look
with confidence again? Alas! to how many, in whom we
once trusted, have I since applied these words:
"Their friendship is a lurking snare.
Their honor but an idle breath.
Their smile the smile that traitors wear.
Their love is hate, their life is death."
The following letter from Mr. George Bliss was written in
the beginning of Mr. Crowley's second term as United States
Attorney, and refers to an effort on the part of his friends to
prevail upon him to accept the office of Solicitor-General at
Washington: United States District Attorney's Office,
New York, June 12, 1874,
Dear Richard: — You have been receiving suggestions about becoming
Solicitor of the Treasury. Many have been made here to get up a pressure
on you to take it, but our friends here, who are compelled in form to favor
it, feel that you ought not to do it. I write with their knowledge. Don't
let any one ever know of this, however Sharpe, especially, says we "can't
afford to have you do it under any circumstances." I suppose he means we
can't spare you here. I confess that, if you want to take the place and can
afford it, I don't quite see why you should not, but such does not seem to
be the view of our friends. Perhaps I am affected by the fact that it would
be a great thing for me personally to have you take it. I don't see, besides,
how you can afford it, and if you are of that opinion, write a strong letter to
some one as if in reply to his urging you to take the place, showing why
you can not, giving what I presume would be the strong argument, the
reason that you can't afford it, just getting out of debt, present office worth
double what the Solicitorship can be, expenses in Washington greater than
in Lockport, etc. The fact is. Porter has got this very much on the brain
and is pressing all here to urge you. Conkling will probably be made to do
it also. I tell you the situation, and you can act. We, Folger and I, are
going in pursuit of Montauk in the Cutter the week beginning 22d. Could
you go along? We can't postpone, because Arthur goes Salmon fishing on
July I, and the Cutter is to lay up for repairs. Arthur, Blatchford and I go
to south side. Long Island, for Sunday and Monday fishing, sailing, eating
and D. P, I wish you could be along. Yours truly,
Hon. Richard Crowley. Georgf Bliss.

i84 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Mr, Crowley had, in his ofiice of United States District
Attornev, in addition to the two Assistant District A.ttorneys
allowed bv the Government, one of the most efficient and
valued clerks in the country. His name is James A. Murray,
and his home is now in Buffalo. He was fully equipped for
the place through his experience with Mr. Crowley's prede
cessor, Mr. Dorsheimer, and his fidelity and ability were
remarkable. He possesses a very penetrating mind and is,
through his position, aware of many important facts concern
ing cases and people which perhaps they little suspect, or
they might feel more than one Damoclesian sword above
their heads. 'Tis said that all successful people have at least
one of these foes to peace, suspended over them by a single
hair. Our young kinsman, John Laughlin, now State Sena
tor from Erie County, then entered the office as a student.
He possesses a marvelous faculty of winning friends, in
addition to his great mental gifts. I believe he is really pre
destined to a brilliant future. He is capable of the most
ardent and self-sacrificing friendship. Wherever he goes,
the best people, the highest natures are always attracted to
him at once. There is no magnet equal to that of a noble
soul and a warm and generous heart like John's, and even the
colder and lesser natures feel its powerful sway, though they
sometimes show their consciousness of it by a spiteful and
useless opposition. He is universally acknowledged to be a
very handsome man, with an elegant address, an amount of
savoir-faire that many an older diplomat might envy, and
thus far his fortune keeps an upward course, and he is graced
with wreaths of victory. But they will ever be wisely worn,
and his best impulses, like the compass that steers the ship
through storm and sun, guide him in the path of honor. He
would renounce the crown of empire sooner than wound or
betray one faithful friend. Therefore I believe his path will
be onward, for no success founded on ingratitude or treachery
ever yet was lasting. No matter how brightly might gleam
the starry jewels of renown, if beneath pierce the thorns of
conscious treachery. Better, a thousand times, one leaf of
laurel nobly won, as John Laughlin's will ever be. He is
very fortunate in his business connections. Mr, Joseph Ewell
is,withoutdoubt, one of the best and ablest men in Erie County,
His mind is of a different order from that of John, and he thus
presents a perfect counterpart. He is the ver}- soul of truth
and honor. Wise and gentle, dignified and yet affable, he is
a fine and rare combination of the sterling qualities which

UNI TED S TA TES A TTORNE YSHIP 1 85
make a noble man. The younger partner, Mr. Wilber
Houpt, gives every indication of most promising future, if
industry, integrity and ambition can count in the race.
Then we had with us William J. Bulger, one of Lock-
port's most brilliant and promising young men. His bright
record began at school, where he carried off nearly every
prize, and on entering the arena of life he was equally suc
cessful. He is very fine looking, and his face trulj- is the
inde.x of his mind and heart. He resigned the office of Sur
rogate of Niagara County to accept a more flattering prospect
in Chicago, having recently married a very estimable lady
from the West. He is a very candid and fearless character,
quite incapable of deceit, and is either your steadfast friend or
openly and squarely your foe. Such men are, and deserve
to be, more successful then those who fight from ambush.
The Assistant United States Attorneys were Gen. A. W.
Brazee and the Hon; John E. Pound, of Lockport. The constant
and familiar association of eight years generally binds friends
closer together. General Brazee has, so far as I know, never
changed in his friendliness to us, and I shall never forget his
wit and his cordial manner. Mr. Crowley and all the friends
they met were especially fond of him. He was a brave
soldier and a true gentleman. He afterwards held the oflice
of United States Territorial Judge for Colorado, and was
United States Attorney for that state during the latter part
of Arthur's administration. I know that some of the most
delightful memories of my husband's life are associated with
those days and friends. The gentlemen whom we met at
the different cities where his duties called him were in every
way congenial, and now he recalls with pleasure the joyous
hours spent with bright spirits like General McDougall, of
Auburn, Mr. Robbins, General Quinby, of Rochester, and
Judge Nathan K. Hall, who had been Postmaster-General
in the Cabinet of President Fillmore. The son of the latter,
Millard Powers Fillmore, was connected with the courts,
and was a great favorite. Mr. Crowley recently heard with
deep regret of his death.
" Alas! our memories may retrace
Each circumstance of time and place.
Season and scene come back, again,
And outward things unchanged remain ;
The rest we can not reinstate ;
Ourselves we can not re-create ;
Nor set our souls to the same key
Of the remembered harmony ! "

1 86 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
CHAPTER VI.
House of Representatives at Washington.
" 'Twere idle to remember now.
Had I the heart, my thwarted schemes ;
I bear beneath this altered brow
The ashes of a thousand dreams ;
Some wrought with wild Ambition's fingers.
Some colored of Love's pencil well,
But none of which a shadow lingers.
And none whose story I could tell."
Mr. Crowley was first elected to Congress in November,
1878. He resigned the office of United States District
Attorney in February, 1879, to take his seat in the Extra
Session of the Forty-Sixth Congress, commencing March
18, 1879. This was an interesting year, as it was just on the
eve of the nomination for President. Blaine, Grant, Sher
man and others were discussed, but no one then spoke of
Garfield. Far less did any one speak, or even think, of
General Arthur as a possible candidate for the Vice-Presi
dency, for he then fully expected to be the next United
States Senator, having been so assured by Mr. Conkling at
the time of Cornell's nomination for Governor, to soothe his
keen disappointment at not being made Governor himself in
stead of Mr. Cornell. By a most unexpected turn of fate,
Garfield's name came uppermost in that exciting lottery, the
National Convention, and to secure the aid of the New York
leaders, Chester A. Arthur's name was placed on the ticket
also. Here is one of Arthur's letters, written just' before Mr.
Crowley went to Washington. It is merely a sample of
many, which were always full of little schemes, a wire
pulling which did not seem great at the time, but which pro
duced great results. In vain do brilliant statesmen plan !
Just when the goal is reached, lo! Mediocrity is already there,
and the plaudits of the populace tell that jealousy has won
the day ! New York, November 24, 1879,
Dear Crowley: — I suppose you will be here the latter part of this week,
on your way to Washington. I wish you could manage to bring Mr.
Hoskins down with you. I have been talking with A. B. C, and we think
it very important that we sh'ould see Hoskins here and have some talk with
him about matters as soon as possible. Can you not manage with him to
come down with you without letting him know that the request' comes from
here ? Will you, please, try to manage this and let me know the result by

HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. 187
telegraph? I will explain the importance of this matter when I see you,
which I wish very much to do before you go to Washington.
Very faithfully yours, C. A. Arthur.
The Hon. Richard Crowley.
Rutherford B. Hayes was then President, having been
elected in 1876 to succeed the Nation's hero. General Grant.
The time when Mr, Hayes received the nomination is im
pressed upon my mind, because it was my first great political
disappointment. We had ardently desired to see Roscoe
Conkling and his lovely wife in the White House, and it
seemed at the time a thing too grevious to be borne. But,
as far as my own observation is concerned, I will say un
qualifiedly that Mr, and Mrs, Hayes did their duty well and
gracefully in the high station to which they were called.
My first visit to them in the White House was in company
with Representative Van Voorhis and wife, of Rochester.
Mrs. Van Voorhis resembled Mrs. Hayes very much. They
were both very handsome women, and always reminded me
of the lovely portrait of Longfellow's Evangeline. Presi
dent Hayesimpressed me very favorably, and I have no doubt
Mrs. Hayes will go down to history as a fine type of
American womanhood. There is a handsome portrait of her
now in the White House, the frame of which, with its
clustering grapes, will remind future visitors of her com
mendable devotion to the great cause of temperance. Her
useful and lovely life came somewhat suddenly to an end,
and the whole country seemed to feel her loss, particularly
the noble bands of women everywhere working in the same
great cause, the removal of the most awful curse that still
infests the earth, the trail of the serpent still in Eden. Alas!
that man ever should ''put an enemy in his mouth to steal
away his brains!" Here, where foes lurk in ambush on
every side, where treachery lies hidden in the smiles over
the wine-cup, where the countless descendants of Judas still
wait to betray with a kiss, the brightest mind should be
ever on the alert. The price of safety as well as success is
indeed eternal vigilance.
At this time Roscoe Conkling and Francis Kernan were in
the Senate, and the following members of the House of
Representatives were from the State of New York : James
W. Covert, of Flushing ; Daniel O'Reilly, of Brooklyn ;
Simeon B. Chittenden, of Brooklyn ; Archibald M. Bliss, of

i88 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Brooklyn ; Nicholas MuUer, of New York City ; Samuel
Sullivan Cox, of New York City; PMwin Einstein, of
New York City; Anson G. McCook, of New York
City; Fernando Wood, of New York City; Levi Par
sons Morton, of New York City; Waldo Hutchins, of
Kingsbridge; John H. Ketcham, of Dover Plains; John
W. Ferdon, of Piermont ; William Lounsbery, of Kingston ;
John M. Bailey, of Albany ; Walter A. Wood, of Hoosick
Falls; John Hammond, of Crown Point ; Amaziah P.
James, of Ogdensburg; John B. Starin, of Fultonville;
David Wilber, of Milford; Warner Miller, of Herkimer;
Cyrus D. Prescott, of Rome; Joseph Mason, of Hamilton;
Frank Hiscock, of Syracuse; John H. Camp, of Lyons;
Elbridge G. Lapham, of Canandaigua ; Jeremiah W,
Dwight, of Dryden; David P, Richardson, of Angelica;
John Van Voorhis, of Rochester; Richard Crowley, of
Lockport; Jonathan Scoville, of Buffalo; and Henry Van
Aernam, of Franklinville,
The care of a large family of young children deprived me, to
a great extent, of the privilege and pleasure of meeting all these
representatives and their immediate relatives and friends, my
two younger children having been born during our four years'
stay in Washington, For the first term of two years we
lived in a house on Iowa Circle, which belonged to General
Brice, the Paymaster-General of the Army, and certainly
one of the esprit du corps. I consider him one of the most
agreeable and cultivated gentlemen I ever met. His esti-
m^able wife also manifested to us in all ways the most
thoughtful courtesy. The house was very charming and
comfortable, but the Circle was not so thickly populated then
as now, and we were somewhat cut off from our most
intimate friends. It was then that we first met Mrs, Kate
Chase Sprague, whose name for years had been very famil
iar to us in our associations with her relatives in Lockport,
She was then in the darkest shadow of the clouds which
seemed to gather over her life, as if to show that Fortune
had turned spiteful at last, and would send trouble enough to
balance the scale which till then had been weighted with
bright gifts alone, I fully believe that the bitter attacks
made upon her at that time, and the coldness of the women
in Washington arose from political jealousy of Mr, Conkling
and personal jealousy of her charms. Byron says, in speak
ing of one who had aroused a great deal of envy: "The

HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. 189
women pardoned all except her face." Later on, in Wash
ington, I had more than one occasion to observe that in most
palpable amours the heroine was saved from ostracism by
the fact that she possessed neither beauty nor esprit. Mrs.
Kate Chase is unquestionably a very handsome and distingu^
looking woman still. I always found her a very interesting
companion, as she is so thoroughly conversant with any topic
one cares to discuss. It is well known that she was of great
assistance to her father in his political plans. His life was a bril
liant and triumphant one, though the great desideratum, the
Presidency, was never reached. Edgewood, the favorite coun
try seat of the Chief-Justice, is her present home. It is about
two miles outside of the City of Washington and is beauti
fully situated. The view of the Capitol from one of its
piazzas is very distinct. The grounds which surround it are
wild and densely wooded. The interior is what one would
expect from the taste of the family who occupy it. Rare
books and pictures,- old tapestries, lovely china and ancient
ornaments gave it a charm peculiarly' its own, and when one
gazes at the cold, marble bust of Salmon P. Chase, the
wonder of the mind strongly asserts itself in the unspoken
question, where has that proud and noble spirit gone? But
he still lives in the grand impression he gave to his time, in
the memory of the brave blows he dealt to slavery, in the
und3Tng record of his pure, high statesmanship. His mag
nificent personality still greets the countless passing throngs
at the Capitol he once adorned.
In the following year occurred the election of James A.
Garfield for President. Mr. Crowley was always one of
the most ardent of the Grant adherents, and, though he loved
and admired General Garfield, felt keenly the defeat of the
idol of his manhood, Ulysses S. Grant. As for me, my
admiration for his true greatness was such that I should have
liked to see him President while he lived. Not long was he
destined to stay with us, for this strife was but eight years
ago, and for two years our hero lies sleeping in his tomb in
that proud city, whose proudest boast is that she holds his
ashes. "The lightning may flash, and the loud thunder rattle,
He heeds not, he hears not, he's free from all pain;
He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle;
No sound can awake him to glory again."
It has been to me a marvel that a family so fortunate and so

190 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
flattered as that of General Grant should be so utterly un
spoiled by the world's adulation. His wife has the priceless
consolation of knowing that she possessed the life-long con
stancy and devotion of one of earth's greatest men. Yet, to
the humblest one of the myriad friends she meets, she is the
same sweet, gracious woman, whom to see once is to wish
for that privilege again, and fondly to remember. Of his
sons the only one I know is Col, Frederick D, Grant, the
image of his father, as every one says, I believe that, under
the same circumstances, he would develop just his father's
qualities also. He is so fortunately married that, when one
reflects upon the saying that fate bestows her choicest gifts
in solitaries and never in clusters, one might fear that his
beautiful wife would be all that he is entitled* to in this dis
appointing world, where the best things seldom come to the
most deserving. But I have long hoped, for her sake as well
as his, since she would shine as so peerless a gem in the
diadem of historic worth and loveliness, that I some day
might see her where she shotild be, with cro-wds waiting for
a smile. At last the sunbeams gleam once more, as they will
often do, brightest after clouds ! He now represents us at
Vienna's Court, and in this Austrian capital no one will out
shine him in true manly and heroic qualities, and no princess
of the House of Hapsburg will preside with a more charm
ing grace than Ida, the wife of Frederick Grant. Ill-fated
Rudolph, would that thou hadst lingered here a little longer,
that no shadow might rest upon the imperial city when the
son of America's hero came to thee as her ambassador! If
thou hadst been as free as our happy young Minister to fol
low the dictates of thy heart, instead of obeying the rules of
state and wedding at a cold and merciless decree, perhaps
thou wouldst still be here to welcome the children of the
Warrior-President! Fred Grant is a good son and a devoted
husband. I remember when he visited Lockport with his
wife during one of the late electioneering campaigns that the
horses attached to the carriage in which we were driving
took freiglit at the fire-works on the road. There were
present in the carriage Mrs. Grant, Miss Alice Pomroy, of
Lockport, my daughter, Alice, and myself. Colonel Grant
and Senator Hiscock were riding just ahead of us. There
was a moment of great peril, in which we sprang from the
carriage, but quicker than a flash of lightning Colonel Grant
stood beside us. How he got there seemed a marvel. He

HO USE OF REP RES EN TA TI VES. 1 9 1
was inspired by the courage of love, which is always one of
the greatest incentives to heroism. The fondest wishes of
thousands of friends go with them to Austria. The hope is
general that their mission may, indeed, be blest. A sadly
sweet memory of the vanished hero is one I cherish con
nected with the great sorrow of my own life.
With Garfield's nomination began a series of political
intrigues, the true history of which is perhaps not publicly
known. Just then the Republican factions of the Half-
Breeds and Stalwarts were sharply defined and opposed.
Senator Conkling, then leader of the Stalwarts, was of course
bitterly disappointed in the nomination of General Garfield,
Mr, Crowlej-, though for years acting with the Conkling
forces, was warmly attached to Garfield, as, indeed, were all
who were near to him in the House of Representatives. He
had a rare jjersonal magnetism, a boyish way of showing his
fondness for his friends that was very fascinating. My own
opinion of General Garfield is that he was a most wonderful
man. Possessed of a great mind, not only by nature, but by
a long and patient training, he had all the resources of rhet
oric at command. Yet his wit never wounded. As Charles
Lever says, " he never willingly trenched on the slightest
prejudice of his greatest enemy." In this he was a noted con
trast to Roscoe Conkling, whose powers of sarcasm never
soared so high as when feeling that his antagonist was
wounded in some vital spot. Could some prophet, in the
brief summer before, when the eloquence of Conkling, united
with the magic name and presence of Grant, rallied thou
sands to the support of Garfield, have predicted that, in a
few short months orator, warrior and victor-statesman should
wage a death conflict, and that the head of Garfield, with the
dew of the morning yet fresh upon the laurels which bound
it, would be hidden forever from the sight of the vast multi
tude who had placed him at their head, Garfield himself
would have received such a warning with less credulity than
Caesar, when told to "Beware the Ides of March!" The
Stalwart leaders, feeling that through the administration of
Hayes thej- had not been sufficiently recognized in the distri
bution of the Federal offices, were very anxious to understand
thoroughly what course General Garfield intended to pursue
with regard to them, in case he was elected, which at that
time looked very doubtful. The nomination of General
Hancock was such a brilliant and popular one, that it carried

192 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
dismay' at once into the Republican ranks. Mr. Stephen W.
Dorsey said at the time that Conkling and Garfield must be
brought together for a conference. Indeed, many of the
leaders believed that thus alone could the flower of safety
be plucked from the nettle of danger that threatened them.
But this was much easier planned than executed. They
proposed, but Conkling disposed. He utterly refused to see
Garfield, alleging as the reason that he did not believe he
would keep any promise he might make, but at the same
time agreeing to the wisdom of the plan that several other
friends should talk with him, and promising that he should
act with them faithfully, and not in any way risk the success
of the ticket. Accordingly, in the following August, about
two months after the nomination, Mr. Crowley met General
Garfield by appointment at Dunkirk, New York, and ac
companied him to New York City. There a conference
was held at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, at which were present,
besides General Garfield and Mr. Crowley, General Arthur,
the candidate for Vice-President, the Hon. Thomas C, Piatt,
member of the National Republican Committee for our
state, the Hon, Levi P, Morton, and Gen, George H,
Sharpe. General Garfield then declared that, in event of his election,
he would most assuredly select one of his Cabinet officers
from New York State, and that, in making Federal appoint
ments, he would be guided by the judgement and wishes of
the party, meaning thereby the Republican Senators, the
Vice-President, the Govenor of the state, the State Committee,
and the Representatives in Congress, The offices specially
mentioned at this time were the United States District
Attorneyships and ]Marshalships, and the office of Collector
of the Port of New York. He also prornised that, in all
appointments within Congressional Districts, he would in each
case consult with the Republican Member of Congress
from the district, and that, if any special case assumed
political importance, reaching in its effects beyond its
own district, further consultation would then be held
by the party leaders in regard to it. That this confer
ence was satisfactory to the gentlemen who jDarticipated in it,
the brilliant and exciting campaign which resulted in the
election of Garfield and Arthur attests. In June of that year,
the month of the nomination, Mrs, Sprague visited me at our
Lockport home. Also later, in the autumn, just when the

HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. 193
excitement preceding election was at its height, she came
again, and because, in the following winter, my husband was
a candidate for United States Senator, I was credited
with a deep-laid scheme to win her influence. The
truth is that we never spoke of the .Senatorship to her
at all, and I afterwards had reason to think that she knew
Mr. Conkling had promised Mr. Piatt long before that he
should be the next Senator from New York if Arthur should
not be a candidate. The placing of the latter's name on the
ticket for the Vice-Presidency gave the desired opportunity
for redeeming this promise, if it were made, as we have reason
to suppose. Furthermore, subsequent events have proved
that neither Mrs. Sprague, nor indeed any one, ever had the
slightest power to turn Roscoe Conkling aside from a fixed
purpose. It would, indeed, have been a strange thing, if she
had influence, that it should have been used against a stead
fast and life-long friend of herself and her family to the
elevation of those who were not only entire strangers to her
personally, but well-known to be hostile to her in feeling.
The world is full of treachery and ingratitude, but there are
extremes to which one hesitates to believe a high minded
person could ever stoop. It was then that Senator Conkling,
who had, according to the management of the committee,
been speaking in Buffalo, came to Lockport, at our earnest
request, and made a very brilliant speech. We invited our
local political lights to dine with him, among whom was the
Hon. Burt Van Horn, formerly Member of Congress from
this district. We knew that he and Senator Conkling had
not agreed for some time, but thought it a favorable chance
to bury the hatchet. Much to our regret, this amicable plan
proved a failure, for which we have alvvays been very unjustly
blamed. So it is that deeds prompted by the best motives
often injure us as much as evil ones could possibly do. Mr.
Van Horn and his friends, though they knew that the Sena
tor's imperious temper alone was to blame in this matter, have
used it ever since as a weapon against Mr. Crowley on all
possible occasions, notably in the recent contest for Congress,
when they worked and voted for John M, Wiley, a Demo
crat and a noted lobbyist, giving this affair as a reason. It
has been a convenient cloak for personal jealously for some
time with that faction. Such flimsy pretexts do not deceive
real politicians, and in the meantime, the mills of the god
keep on with their eternal grinding.

194 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
In December of that year, just after the election, Mr,
Crowley, accompanied by Governor Cornell, the Hon, Louis
F. Payn, United States Marshal for the Southern District of
New York, went on a visit to Mentor, to urge upon the
President-elect the advisability of selecting Secretary of the
Treasury from TSTew York State, and also to express the
ardent wish of most of the leading politicians that this position
should be awarded to the Hon, Levi P. Morton. Before
election General Garfield had promised Mr. Morton and
other friends that he should be appointed to this position as a
reward for his faithful and self-sacrificing devotion to the
party. It was certainly just that Senator Conkling should
endeavor to the utmost stretch of his influence to reward Mr.
Morton, for, were it not for his vehemently expressed dis
approval at the Chicago Convention, Mr. Morton -would
have been nominated Vice-President instead of General
Arthur. Would to heaven that he had ! For in the wake
of the tragedy which was destined to follow, the friends
and countrymen of Levi P. Morton would have found in
him a sure refuge, a man whom no pomp and power could
estrange, a true gentleman, who, though beamed upon by
Fortune's most dazzling smiles, would ne^er forget the un
fortunate, and would surely remember to reward those who
had served him long and well. As I -write these words he is
Vice-President! And I, who through my husband's long
friendship for him have come to feel that I know him well,
can say with heart-felt sincerity that never, since the days of
Washington, nor even then, did a nobler, truer man ever
honor the position by holding it! In addition to the devotion
of thousands of friends, he has a beautiful and highly accom
plished wife, perfectly capable of assuming the most queenly
role that could be assigned to her in this Republican country.
.She will help him to win and keep his friends. Mais
revenons a nos nioutons. General Garfield, in this December
conference, repeated in regard to Federal appointments
what he had before stated in the August preceding election.
As regarded the position of Secretary of the Treasury, he
seemed averse to granting it to New York, offering as one
reason that the Collector of the Port would necessaril}' be
from New York, and promising that the latter appointment
would be made with special reference to the approval of
those who most ardently desired the appointment of Mr,
Morton as Secretary of the Treasury, He expressed the

HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. 195
fear that Mr. Morton was ineligible under the statute, being
so deeply interested in banking business. He did not, how
ever, state positively that he would not assign the Treasury to
New York, and promised at all events to consult with the party
leaders still further in regard to it. I find on looking over
some letters of Senator Conkling that at this point. General
Garfield referred to a conversation held between himself and
Mr. Morton during the canvass, in which Mr. Morton un-
¦ derstood that General Garfield had agreed to appoint him
Secretary of the Treasury. General Garfield said that he
did not so recollect the agreement, that he had promised to
give him either the English or the French mission, with the
understanding that he, Garfield, and not Mr. Morton, should
have the choice between them. He added that his recollec
tion of the understanding was confirmed by a letter he had
received from Mr. Morton, in which he alluded to the two
other positions, but did not claim the promise of the Secretary
ship of the Treasury; that he stood ready to do as agreed,
reserving to himself to say which one of these positions it
should be; that he felt very friendly towards Mr. Morton
and recognized his service during the canvass, and intended
to make suitable recognition by appointing him to one of the
positions named in his letter. And so matters stood in this
uncertainty, and in the meantime another event occurred in
which all these men were very deeply interested, although
the strongest currents, as usual, did not come to the surface,
for "'tis with feelings as with waters, the shallow murmur,
but the deep are dumb!" In January, 1881, in the second
winter of his first term of Congress, Mr. Crowlej- was a can
didate for the office of United States Senator before the
Legislature of the State of New York. The rivals in the
field were Thomas C. Piatt, Levi P. Morton and Chauncey
M. Depew. The latter withdrew in favor of Mr, Piatt, who
received the majority of the votes of the Republican mem
bers in the controlling caucus. The contest had been a very
earnest one, and had covered a period of about three weeks.
General Arthur, at that time Vice-President elect, went to
Albany in the interest of Mr. Crowley, and remained until
the conflict was ended. The attitude of Mr, Conkling in the
affair has never been clearly understood. At first he was
said to declare that, as the three Stalwarts were all his friends —
that is Crowley, Morton and Piatt — he would, in political
parlance, "keep hands off" and in no way take an active

196 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
part. Many, however, have belived that he really favored
Piatt, and I have been informed by several politicians, who
were in the confidence of Mr, Conkling, that he had settled
on him as the man for the position long before. This, also, is
strenuously denied by others, who claim that the Senatorship
\rAS promised to General Arthur, Whatever the truth may
have been in regard to this matter, ruin and death have resulted
in more than one instance from the action then taken by
certain men. Never were dishonor and deceit more quickly
fatal! As in the game of chess certain mo^'es soon cause the
sweeping of prominent figures from the board, so the political
moves of that time not only changed the fortunes, but cut off
the lives, of some of those most_ deeply concerned therein.
Ah, if people could but foresee the consequences to them
selves when they ruthlessly mar the destinies of others!
Warner Miller assisted in securing the election of Mr, Piatt,
and was destined in the strange and then unexpected revolu
tion of Fortune's wheel to occupy Mr. Piatt's seat himself, a
fe\v months later. The newly elected Senator, arriving in
Washington under the regime of Garfield, was doomed to a
brief and stormy term of office. He became for the time
being the victim of the Half-Breed and Stalwart strife. Both
before and during the contest the newspapers were full of
the most animated comments. The Albany Morning Ex
press thus kindly predicted for Mr. Cro-wley in the preceding
November:
Western New York and the Senatorship,
" There does not seem to be any concentration of sentiment,
as yet, in the matter of United States Senator, with either of
the two great forces which it is supposed will come in con
flict in the caucuses in January next. Just at present the
members upon each side appear to be looking among their
own immediate neighbors and friends for some one to repre
sent them, and whom they hope to see elected. The tendency
in this direction is apparently quite strong in w^estern New
York, at least among those who are recognized as the friends
of Senator Conkling, especially among the younger members
of the party. Our information is to the effect that there is
among them a decided movement in favor of Hon. Richard
Crowley, whose great strength of character is widely known
throughout the state, and universally recognized 'beyond

HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. 197
Cayuga bridge,' as they used to say in the olden times.
Western New York is our Western Reserve. It breeds
stalwart and resolute Republicans, and among them all there
is none more intrepid than brave and heroic Richard Crowley.
He may or may not be the representative of this class in the
caucuses for LTnited States Senator, but, if he is, he will have
a support as enthusiastic, earnest and determined as that
which he always gives to anv cause he espouses. As
his manly shoulders always press close to those of his friends
and associates in any contest, so they will press closely to
him, if they shall now seek to place him in the Senate of the
United States as Roscoe Conkling's colleague. The two
R. C's — for how much of brains and worth and untiring and
unselfish devotion to principle and to part}- these names will
stand — Roscoe Conkling and Richard Crowley. We do not
say that Richard Crowley is our choice for United States
Senator, or Senator Conkling's choice, or the choice of any
other men or set of men, or an}- influence or machine what
ever, but we are entirely justified in saying that he is worthy
to be the choice of the Repubhcans of western New York,
and of the Empire State as well. In the first place, Richard
Crowley is a Republican of staunch devotion to principle,
of unsullied purity of character, of commanding talents and
manly worth. He is an orator and a thinker, a statesman
and a gentleman of true culture. He is young and talented,
not with the mere flashing brilliancy which bursts upon us
with so many of our youth, and then expires forever, but he
is talented in the sense of intellectual endowment, of breadth
and strength of reasoning faculties, of intuitive sagacity,
organizing ability, versatility of resources, and force and
energy of will. We speak not unadvisedly, nor with terms
merely of rhetoric. Our words are written in his political
record. He justified all we have said, and more than we are
able to say, during the four years he was a member of the
Senate of the state. He was first elected to that body in
1865, having previously been City Attorney of Lockport,
where he was born. He was but twenty-nine years of age
when he first came to Albany as Senator, and yet he at once
took front rank among the able and distinguished members
of that body, and when he left it, four years later, he was an
admitted leader, as prudent in counsel as he was fearless in
action. He has since that time been United States District
Attorney and Representative in Congress, and has the entire

198 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
respect of friend and ¦foe alike. He will be forty-four years
of age on the 14th of next month. We are not surprised
that the younger members of the Republican party are dis
posed to make him their leader and champion now. He will
never falter, never fail them. But not alone do young men
.idmire him. All who have watched his course honor and
confide in him. New York will have added luster shed upon
its name if Richard Crowley represents it in the Senate of
the United States. Mr. Crowley is not mentioned in the
interest of a faction. He is urged by his friends on the
ground that he knows intimately the Republicans of western
New York, and will represent their wishes intelligently in
the Senate, and without any narrowness or prejudice. With
malice toward none, he will favor those most warmly who
carry the standard farthest in the face of the foe, and who
never turn upon a friend. He is favored in the interest of
harmony, of the recognition of all who are deserving, of the
unification and consolidation of the Republican party. He
antagonizes no element in the party, but would help to solid
ify and cement all in one invincible organization."
Of all the variety of comments that -were written after
this memorable strife, perhaps none throws more light on
some of the hidden wires that were pulled, some of the bar
gains that were made to insure success, than the following:
BALLAD OF THE SENATORSHIP.
Richard C. was a first rate lawyer,
And a better Congressman none could desire,
But a man riz up to 'oe the destroyer
Of Richard's ambition to go up higher ;
For Tom C.
Piatt, he
Remarked : " That Senatorship's coming to me."
Richard had plenty of Stalwart backing.
He charged with Chester, the national Vice,
And John F. Smyth he was not lacking
who'd desundayschoolize politics in a trice ;
For Tom C.
Piatt, he
Remarked : " That Senatorship's coming to me."
Besides such workers as these strong two,
These pullers of wires with elequent lips,
Sharpe practice was used to pull Dick through,
A navy composed of chairman-ships ;
But Tom C.
Piatt, he
Remarked : "That Senatorship's coming to me, "

HO USE OF REPRESENTA TI VES. 1 99
Confident Tom he laughed defiance
At his rival's efforts to work his will,
And said : "To win one's best reliance
Must be oil splendid Executive skill ;
And A. B.
Cornell, he
WiU win this battle for T. C. P."
And Cornell worked like the pick of the bees ;
He called to his aid his Capitol coterie.
And he added to them all his appointees
With just the exception of one sick notary ;
And Tom C.
PlaU, he
Remarked : " That Senatorship's coming to me. "
So the canvass was waged by day and by night ;
' Twas as pretty a quarrel as one need seek ;
Each faction fought with its main and its might ;
O, such is the war-tug when Greek meets Greek !
And Tom C.
Piatt, he
Remarked : "That Senatorship's coming to me."
But still o'er his hopes defeat did lower,
And Piatt couldn't cause it away to fade,
Till Robertson, holding the balance of power.
Summoned his forces to Tom C's aid ;
Then Tom C.
Piatt, he
Remarked : " The Judge has elected me."
As the Robertson votes to his score were conveyed.
What said Tom C. ? Does any one know ?
What was the pledge and promise he made ?
Did he mention a quid in return for a quo ?
TomC.
Piatt, he
Has the floor to answer full and free.
This is the ballad of that great fight ;
It ends right here ; down goes the curtain ;
But is the Owego man that is white
Just what might be called a bit "uncertain" ?
When Tom C.
Piatt, he
Votes on Robertson, we all shall see.
The leading Half-Breeds had all previously gone to ^Ix.
Crowley and offered to elect him Senator, if he would
promise to vote confirming their appointments. But Vice-
President Arthur, as well as the other Stalwarts, would not
listen to this proposition for a moment, vowing that they

200 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA
had no confidence in any of these men, and would, under nO
circumstance, deal with them then or thereafter. But things
must have looked very differently to Arthur after he became
President, for then, as is perfectly well known, he was
wholly surrounded and influenced by the faction he at this
time professed to despise. Mr. George Bliss was at that
time warmly interested in Mr. Crowley's success in this
Senatorial contest, as will be seen by the following letters.
The Hon. L. P. Morton was, after he had withdrawn,
very anxious for Mr. Crowley to be elected, openly prefer
ring him to all the other candidates. That Judge Folger
was for "Dear Richard" goes without saying:
Albany, December 13, 1880.
Dear Richard: — I write to you of two things, perhaps somewhat con
nected. I had, a few days ago, a letterfrom Wm. Robinson, whom you know,
asking me to say to him confidentially who I was for for U. S. Senator, and
especially whether I was for you. Before I'had time to answer, he came
up here. By the way, his letter was before the late Mayoralty appoint
ments in New York City. His visit was after. He says that, though he is
a personal friend of Woodin, he is not with him for Depew nor in indis
criminate opposition to every friend of Conkling ; that he thinks that he
can get Tuthill, the Member of Assembly from the Northern District of
Cayuga, to work for you, but can not or will not get him to work for Piatt,
nor try hard for Morton. I have written that to Arthur, not with so much
particularity, but as a fact for Arthur to remember and use, if it can be
made of use. The other matter is this. He fears that there will be a great
cleaning out in the Tax Commissioner's office, and, as a friend of Woodin,
that he is in danger from Lawson, and he wishes help to be retained. He
wishes me to write to Arthur. I have not yet done so (R. was here but
yesterday.) I write also to you If you think best, write, or otherwise use
your influence to keep him in his place. Hearing that Cornell came here
on Saturday, I take it that you did not go to Mentor with Lew Payn. I
know nothing of what may have taken place in the inner circle the past
week. Let me hear from you. Yours, C. J. F.
New York, January 8, 1881.
My Dear Crowley: — Morton arrived this P. M., and is to decide to
morrow whether he goes to Albany. Count for yourself Hamilton and
Astor. No bogus about him. Yours truly.
To Richard Crowley George Bliss.
These two gentlemen to whom Mr, Bliss refers are Mr,
Robert Ray Hamilton and William Waldorf Astor, I
cherish gratefully through the stormy years the compliment
they paid Mr, Crowley in voting for'him as a Senator of the

HO USE OF REPRESEN TA TI VES. 2 o i
United States, and I trust it has proved to them as bread cast
upon the waters, Robert Hamilton is the grandson of the
great Secretary of the Treasury, Alexander Hamilton, whose
tragic and untimely death is one of the darkest shadows in
American history. He has always been one of Mr. Crow-
le}-'s favorite heroes, and I remember at the Centennial he
turned away from foreign scenes and creations of the old
masters to search for the portrait of the famous financier of
Washington's Administration. William Waldorf Astor has
proved that, despite the assertion of Avon's Bard, gold can
be gilded, for the memory of his genius and nobility will
shine when the Astor millions are forgotten. \\''hile Min
ister to Italy, he traced from antique records the story of the
Borgias and other celebrated families of the ancient Italians,
around whom he threw the spell of story. Romance must
have seemed a natural element, in that land of beauty and
song, to a }-oung and gifted American, with a bride whose
beauty rivaled that of the Colonnas or the Falieros, or any
sung in liquid Tuscan verse. Ne-w York, January 10, 1881.
My Dear Richard: — I have "gunned " Husted, so that I think he won't
injure you, and have written Astor. I can be at Albany so little that I
want to put my time in where it will do the most good. My idea is I had
better not go up till the caucus is fixed. Post me by wire.
Yours truly,
Hon. Richard Crowley. George Bliss.
1501 H Street,
Private. Washington, January 3, 1881.
Dear Mr. Crowley : — I suppose you saw the Times of yesterday and no
ticed the statement, on my authority, that Mr. Hayes would not make the
New York appointments until after the election of Senator, and perhaps
not during his term of office. I saw Amos Townsend to-day. He was at
Mentor with McKinley and says Garfield is very favorably disposed to act
upon the suggestion made with reference to yourself. Townsend is in
favor of the appointment and believes G. is quite ready to make it, if left
for his action, as Townsend believes it will be. Townsend asked : " Why
not ask Hayes to make it as soon as the Senatorial contest is over and
agree to it before ? " I fancy it would suit you better to receive it from
Garfield. Please let me hear from you. I believe this appointment
can be secured. Please post me as to the state of affairs at Albany.
Had I better go there? Cordially yours, L. P. Morton.
Mr. Morton was always so lofty in his way of dealing
with political affairs. A lady in New York said to me, on

202 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
observing a very fine campaign portrait of him, that he re
sembled strongly the pictures of the Stuarts, especially
Charles the First. I replied that I hoped not, in evil fortune,
though I would admit the royalty, not only in the outward
air and garb, but in the exquisite courtesy and tact of the
thoroughbred gentleman. New York, March 8, 1881.
My Dear Richard : — I have decided to " hold my cup up " for the Dis
trict Attorneyship. That is, to let it be known I will take it, and to
say so to half a dozen friends, yourself among them. It may be
mortgaged, or may be out of my reach. This I am seeking to find out.
Meantime I do not want to be publicly mentioned. I think Shepard will
get so black an eye in a few days that he will cease to be formidable.
Yours truly, —
George Bliss.
Hon. Richard Crowley.
The gentleman here spoken of is Mr. Elliott F. Shepard,
now Editor of the New York Mail and Express, and a
son-in-law of the late William H. Vanderbilt. The failure
of Mr. Bliss to receive this office was directly due to Mr.
Conkling, who became thoroughly estranged from him, and
who said to me shortly before his death that he had never
really liked or trusted him. In response to my assertion that
I had once thought him to be Mr. Crowley's friend, he
replied : " Did you believe George Bliss could ever be any-
body''s friend?" Of the persons mentioned here, three at
least, John G. Smyth, Chester A. Arthur and Charles J.
Folger, have passed out of the conflict. But the feelings
which then warmed their hearts have not more utterly per
ished than in those of most, if not all, of those surviving. It
is quite safe to predict that Alonzo B. Cornell will not now,
as he did nearly ten years ago, rally all his forces to the sup
port of Mr. Piatt. Nor will Chauncey M. Depew in 1890
efface himself, as he did so gracefully and effectually in
1880. "Twice hath he sought Clan- Alpine's glen
In peace ; but when he comes again
He comes with banner, brand and bow,
As leader seeks his mortal foe."
And what will be the attitude of Robertson, the modern
" W.irwick," the king-maker? Will he, as Fate's chosen
messenger, bear the crown again to those who wore it so
briefly before, or will he proudly set it on the head of some

HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. 203
masked hero in the fight, on whose fidelity he can rely when
the struggle is over? It is hoped that the goddess of justice
may select him this time as her champion, and that he may
enter the lists with her colors next his heart, a brave knight
in the tournament as of old. A little later, much to the
surprise of Senator Conkling and his friends, the portfolio of
the Navy Department was tendered to Mr. Morton by the
President-elect. After repeated consultations this was de
clined, principally at the request of Senator Conkling. I
remember that Mr. Morton came to talk the matter over
with Mr. Crowley, and that I was personally disappointed
to find that Mr. Crowley agreed with Mr. Conkling. The
finale of the whole affair was the departure of Mr. Morton
as Minister to France. Though he filled the position with
great fidelity and 6clat, yet I thought then, and still think,
that to have kept the Secretaryship of the Navy would have
been wiser for him, and certainly much more agreeable to
his friends, for they would not then have been forced to part
with himself and his charming wife for four years. I know
Mr. Crowley's idea was to continue the fight for the Treasury,
hoping it would eventually come to Morton, notwithstanding
the vacillating conduct of the President. To me a wheel
within a wheel was the assertion of Mrs. Sprague, that
Mr. Conkling all the -while knew it was impossible for
General Garfield to place Mr. Morton at the head of the
Treasury, owing to the fact that he was positively ineligible
under the statute. But why should he have made such
desperate efforts, and even paid a visit to Garfield for this
especial purpose? It was a very tangled chain, indeed, and,
like the famous Gordian knot, was destined to be severed,
and never unraveled. Talleyrand said language was given
us to conceal our thoughts. In such affairs as this it would
seem as though not only words, but deeds, concealed real
purposes, and the deepest motives were never wholly appar
ent, even to the close observer. To ask for a thing, knowing
it could not be granted, would seem like an attempt to weave
a dangerous web, destined to imprison more than one in its
fatal meshes! :Mentor, the faithful guide and counselor of
Ulysses, ought surely, at this time, to have presided over the
little western town which bears his name, and which, by the
presence of Garfield, awoke to find itself historic. Many a
wise man wended his way thither, and many and confusing
were the reports that came thence, wafted to the impatient
ears of the listening statesmen at Washington and elsewhere.

204 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
General Arthur, Ex-Senator Stephen W. Dorsey, and
others were very anxious to assert the claims of Judge
Charles J. Folger, then on the Bench of the Court of
Appeals, to a Cabinet position. Senator ConkHng, though
never at any time professing a great friendship or liking for
Folger, seemed to assent to the request that he should be
brought forward as a candidate for the Secretaryship of the
Treasury, should General Garfield adhere to his reason
previously assigned for not appointing Mr. Morton, viz. : his
financial position. Senator Conkling was prevailed upon,
after much urging on the part of his friends, to visit Mentor
himself. On his return from what then seemed to be a most
agreeable and satisfactory visit, he announced that New York
would surely have the Treasury, but that it might be given to
Judge Folger, instead of Mr Morton, who would in that
case be sent as Minister to England. Fglger himself was
then summoned to the council-fire of the great chief, and was
offered, not the Treasury, but the Attorney-Generalship.
This surprise, coupled with the offer of the office of Secretary
of the Navy to Mr. Morton, was a great blow to Mr. Conk
ling's hopes, and revived his ancient and smouldering distrust
of Garfield. I suppose he never could make proper allow
ance for a nature that hesitated to give pain to others, and
naturally came to shipwreck in the vain endeavor to please
every one, and to requite all who had assisted in his elevation.
However, Senator Conkling certainly did not then, as he
more than once declared, wish to quarrel with the new Ad-
ministraiton. His attitude towards Hayes had been one of
open and unrelenting hostility, and he did not care to incur the
suspicion which might rest on a continuance of such a frame
of mind; and he did not in his wrath lose sight of the fact that
the loss of patronage might become somewhat monotonous in
the opinion of his constituents. Judge Folger wrote as
follows to Mr. Crowley on his return from Mentor:
Albany, February 27, 1881.
Dear Richard:— \ presume that you have heard from Arthur what my
visit to Mentor amounted to. I have not quite made up my mind what it
all means. I would like to spend an hour with you and talk it over. I
regret all this newspaper gossip, and am sometimes inclined to be inter
viewed and tell the whole story ! When the whole is told, it will not be to
my discredit, and will show that I stood for my State, my party, and the
friends I have in the party. General Garfield spoke well of you, and I
advise you to see him soon after his arrival in Washington, and to keep up
the good impression he has of you. He is not to have an easy time of it,

HO USE OF REPRESEN TA TIVES. 205
and will need friends ; and there is no reason why you should not be one.
Let me say to you, also, that, from what Arthur says. Senator Conkling is
desirous of being friendly with you. You have some reason to be sore, I
doubt not, but don't let that operate upon you to your own disadvantage.
If you think of coming to New York at any time, let me know, and if it is
at the end of a week I will try and meet you. If you have time, and feel
like it, let me know what is going on in Washington, what are the intrigues
and probable results. I send you a letter that Judge Andrews wrote to
Hiscock, if you should wish to ask his aid in my son's behalf.
Yours, Charles J. Folger.
This letter plainly indicates that our friend Folger thought
Conkling had thrown his weight of power into the Piatt
scales in the Senatorial fight. He himself had gone to Albany
in Mr. Crowley's behalf. If so, it was a little strange that
it should have been the last throw of the dice, the last flourish
of the scepter, 0^ving to all these misunderstandings and
cross-purposes, the announcement of the arrangement and
selection of the Cabinet -was quite unprecedentedly delayed.
Finally, William Windom, of Minnesota, was appointed to
the Treasury. There were conflicting rumors just previous
to this concerning Senator Allison, of Iowa. Some were to
the effect that he had been offered and declined the post of
Secretary of the Treasury, others maintaining that the Presi
dent wished to give it to him, but was pre\ ented by the
determined opposition of Mr. Stephen W. Dorsey and others.
Thomas L. James, of New York, was made Postmaster-Gen
eral. This also, was in direct defiance of Senator Conkling's
openlv expressed wishes, although Mr. Piatt was \ery
strongly in favor of Mr. James' appointment. In connection
with this fact I will mention that, only this last year, Mr.
James told me it was at his request that Mr. Warner Miller
took such an active part against Mr. Crowley in the contest
for the Senate, a fact which at the time surprised me, as, had
the situation then been reversed, and had Mr. Miller been the
candidate, he would have received the cordial support of Mr.
Crowley. General Garfield had contemplated the choice of
Mr. Crowley for Postmaster-General or Attorney-General,
but the pressure for Judge Folger was so strong that he did
not deem it prudent to resist that, as he had in the case of
Mr. Morton, and in the selection of Mr. James he succeeded
in pleasing as well as possible both of the New' York fac
tions. Mr. Crowley at the time did not "demand " or expect
a place in the Cabinet of his friend. General Garfield, although
it was supposed in some quaiters that he did, as the editorial

2o6 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
I here quote from the New York Sun, of Sunday, February
6th, 1 88 1, would indicate. I always thought it to proceed
from the pen of the eloquent Charles A. Dana, whose
brilliant articles have been for many years so extensively
admired : SOCIAL INFLUENCES IN POLITICS.
The world is governed as much by passion as by reason. The caprices
of women, as all history teaches, have often been the secret source of gov
ernmental policy. It is well known that the violent quarrel between General
Jackson and John C. Calhoun had its origin in Mr. Calhoun's slighting
Mrs General Eaton, whose cause President Jackson had zealously espoused.
As it was then, so it is now, and shall ever be. He is not a gallant knight
who, once having come forward as the champion of a fair lady's interest,
ever blanches before any opposition or leaves anything undone in her
behalf. An able and eloquent member of Congress from thjs State is
universally underetood to have recently rendered a most chivalric social
service to the distinguished head of the imperial wing of the Republican
party. This gentleman now desires and demands to be made the Attorney-
General of the United states. What other candidate for the Cabinet from
the State of New York has had the fortune to render the famous Senator any
such service ? It can not be doubted that Mr. Conkling's tall plume will
wave foremost in the front rank of those who press the appointment of his
eminent, social and political friend.
I agree with the writer perfectly, for at that time it
required no small amount of moral courage to stand by Sena
tor Conkling socially, for they who flattered him most were
the bitterest in their private censure, and as for their wives,
those of Jackson's Cabinet were positively mild in compari
son. As there is no special evidence that Senator Conkling
exerted himself in our behalf at that time, the logical deduc
tion is that he did not allo-w the element of romance to inter
fere with politics at all. This is what I now believe, in the
light of revelations just before and since his death. To sup
pose that the lady in question used her influence against the
man who had been her uncle's trusted friend, and whose voice
was always heard in her defense when she was attacked by
false acquaintances, would be to think Cleopatra had been
changed into an asp, instead of being poisoned by one. The
old fable of the viper is not at all a pretty one, as illus
trated by a lovely woman. To tell what was said and
^vritten to me on this subject would be to anticipate the sur
prise of some of the letters I hope to publish next year, in
which are quoted the opinions of many who believe they
were uttered for one ear alone, in addition to remarks made
to me personally by some whose actions were in direct con-

HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. 207
tradiction to their words. I have selected for publication only
those which criticised my own part in affairs. A Roland for
an Oliver! Immediately after Mr, Piatt arrived in Wash
ington to take his seat in the Senate, Judge William H, Rob
ertson was nominated by President Garfield for Collector of
the Port of New York City, and this announcement to the
Senate proved a veritable bomb-shell, Mr, Conkling was
terribly enraged, as he had not so soon forgotten, and prob
ably never would ha-\-e forgiven, Mr, Robertson's action at
the National Convention. He always claimed that the New
York delegates went to Chicago pledged solemnly for Gen
eral Grant, and that Robertson and some others made an
unexpected new departure on their arrival, first for Blaine,
and later in the triumphant nomination of Garfield, The
President on his side claimed truthfully that he was greatly
indebted to Mr. Robertson for his nomination, and everv one
knows that stratagems have in all ages been considered fair
in war. Mr. Conkling went to see the President at the
White House on Sundav evening, just before the name had
been sent to the Senate. He stated that he had received a
positive assurance that Judge Robertson would not be
appointed collector. But there were the friends on the other
side, urging, and pressing, and insisting on the appointment,
so the choice lay between Scylla and Charybdis. At all
events, the President recommended, and the Senate confirmed
the nomination ; the fated thunderbolt fell, and was quickly
followed by the resignation of the tvvo Ne\v York Senators,
Piatt and Conkfing.
I place Piatt's name first, because there has been quite
generally an erroneous impression in regard to the matter.
People seemed to think it must be the fact that Senator
Conkling resigned first. On the contrary, it was from Mr.
Piatt the suggestion of resignation came, and Senator Conk
ling requested that his name might be sent in first to the
Senate, to which his colleague agreed. Thus arose the
stigma of " Me Too," by which he was for some time so un
justly characterized and lampooned. It was also said at the
time that General Garfield's personal dislike of Piatt made a
great difference in the amicable adjustment of the sad affair,
and I have the authority of a member of President Arthur's
own family that he said, on the occasion of his first meal at
the White House : " I would not now be here had I suc
ceeded in electing my friend Dick Crowley to the Senate, as

2o8 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
I wished to do at the time, for Garfield was very fond of
him, and he could have made peace, while he cordially dis
liked Tom Piatt." So out of slight causes great events and
great tragedies spring.
CHAPTER 'VII.
Columbia's Capital.
" Society is as ancient as the world." Voltaire.
" Society is now one polished horde,
Formed of two mighty tribes, the bores and bored. ' '
Byron.
In regard to my impression of the social life in Washing
ton, of which so much has been written, I must say that I
did not then, nor do I now, agree with the most widely dif
fused statements concerning it. Washington society differs
from that of most other cities in its rules of etiquette. The
new-comer must make the first calls, unless she is of very
high rank socially— the wife of a Cabinet Minister, or some
thing of the kind. Monday is the day to visit the wives of
the Justices, Tuesday for the wives of the Members of the
House of Representatives, Wednesday for the ladies of the
Cabinet, Thursdays for the Senators' wives, Friday for the
Foreign Ministers' families, and Saturday has generally
been the day reserved for the receptions at the White
House. These receptions are for the general public. In
addition to this afternoon, when the wife of the President
receives with some of the Cabinet ladies, and indeed any one
she chooses to invite to assist her, there is generally one
evening in the week set apart for the President and his fam
ily to meet those who call informally. These are always
the most enjoyable occasions, for there is not, as a rule, so
great a crowd, and the visitor has a much better opportunity
to become acquainted with the Chief Magistrate and his
family and intimate friends. The "Nation's Dwelling " now
plainly shows the marks of time, and the trampling feet of
the millions who make this great Republic have left their
impressions there, even as the steps to famous tombs and
shrines are said to be worn away by the hurrying rush of
pilgrims. The White House is the shrine of the expression
of their liberty, so well and dearly bought, first from the

COLUMBIA'S CAPITAL. 209
tyranny of despotic England, next from the frightftd sway
and stain of slavery. As contrasted with the luxury of mod
ern houses now surrounding it on all sides, it presents, in the
interior at least, quite a shabby and forlorn appearance, but
to most people the old associations, the memory of the great
figures now famous in history who have trodden its floors,
throw over its old walls a glamour which no palace could ever
boast. The exterior and the grounds are always charming.
It is said to be an exact copy of the Ducal House of Leins
ter, in Ireland. As you pass beyond the hall, with its
screens of gayly stained glass, the rooms on the first floor
are known as the East Room, the Red Room, the Green
Room and the Blue Room. The East Room is the largest
®f all. There are not so many portraits of the former occu
pants as one might expect, but in this room are fine portraits
of the first President and his stately wife, of Mrs. Hayes,
and the grim and sturdy face of General Jackson. Presi
dent Arthur's portrait is in the Red Room now, very hand
some and life-like, and in the Green Room are the portraits
of Mrs. Polk and Mrs. Tyler. The latter was considered a
beauty, but Mrs. Polk's face is to me much more interesting.
She is a wonderfully fine looking lady, even now, and must
have been very lovely and distinguished in the days when
she so gracefully dispensed the hospitalities of this historic
home. In the hall are the portraits of Grant, Garfield,
Tyler, Pierce and Buchanan.
On this floor are also the state and private dining-rooms
and the conservatory. All these rooms, of different colors, are
really state drawing-rooms and are always thrown open for
receptions, and generally are free for the inspection of the
people. In the day of President Adams the great East
Room was unfurnished, and it is said that the President's
wife used it as a room in which to dry the family washing.
When I first saw it, in Grant's time, there was a very rich but
ugly Turkey carpet upon the floor, presented by the Sultan,
but now it is replaced by one of the lovely light modern
shades. On the floor above are the Cabinet Room, library
and bedrooms. The Cabinet is, of course, very formal
looking, with its long table and its stiff row of chairs, and it
is much used by those waiting to see the President. I re
member the first time I went there with a party of friends to
see General Arthur. There were present Judge Bowen, of
Lockport, Mr. and Mrs. Frank De Long, of San Francisco,

2IO ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
formerly of Lockport, and our old friend General Sharpe, of
Xingston, who sat in the chair of the Secretary of State. I
told him to take it for an omen that he would one day pre
side there, and I now add the hope that, if my prediction
should be true, he will not prove so false and ungrateful as
the friend of other days whom we were then waiting to greet
in his new r6le of President. The library is perhaps the
most charming room of all, not alone because of the silent
companionship of the books, but the beautiful outlook from
the windows, the distant hills of Virginia, and, nearer, the
winding Potomac and the spotless towering monument of
Washington. There is the oak desk presented by Queen
Victoria to President Grant, made from the timbers of a ship.
General Grant did not, however, sit there to receive visitors,
as Arthur and Cleveland later did, and as now President
Harrison does; but instead he used the Cabinet Room, as also
did Hayes and Garfield. In the library are the portraits of
seven Presidents, William Henry Harrison, John Adams,
Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Johnson and Taylor. The
Jackson room is the most interesting of the bedrooms, with "
its quaint canopied bedstead of old mahogany. I have often
heard it said that Arthur did more in the way of refurnishing
and renovating the White House than any other of its oc
cupants. I can readily believe this, for one evening, when I
called there with one of my children, soon after his install
ment, he seemed to be terribly oppressed and disheartened
by the fact that some vandal visitor had, with a reckless pen
knife, ruthlessly cut a slit in a brand-new leather couch. I felt
quite sure, from the outpourings of his wrath and despair,
that the prospect of a war -with any of the foreign powers
would not have distressed him half as much. He seemed
thoroughly imbued with the idea that he owned the place
and all the belongings and appurtenances thereof. An
upholstering record is a glorious one to leave to posterity, to
be sure! The pity is, it could be so easil}- eclipsed, by one
of the noted New York houses, for instance! Why should
not they go down to history, too? Let us have justice,
though the heavens fall! It was also frequently proclaimed,
then and since, that Arthur was a gentleman. Pray, I would
ask, when was there an American President who was not a
gentleman? From George Washington down to the present,
I never heard of one, except the same Chester A. Arthur,
who was rude to visitors. Cavanagh and Sandford, of New

COLUMBIA'S CAPITAL. 211
York City, the irreproachable tailors, could make fine clothes,
but they could not make a gentleman. "Madam," said
James the First, " I can make your son a lord, but I can not
make him a gentleman." The only lovely memor}- of
Arthur's administration is the one connected with his sweet
niece. May McElroy, of Albany. That her course in life
may be as bright as it is given to mortals here on this earth, so
full of heartlessness and bitterness, is my earnest wish! Yes,
all blessings attend thee, gentle May.
I believe each hostess of the White House made a \exy
favorable impression on the time in which she lived, and,
from all that I have been able to hear, from both Republi
cans and Democrats, the wife of President Cleveland will go
down on history's record as a bright and shining star. I have
not met her myself, but I considered it absolutely marvelous
that one so young and beautiful should preserve her self-
poise through the tremendous pressure of most flattering
homage from all the world. She must be gifted with
wondrous tact. More exquisite than the bloom of her youth
and loveliness was the remarkable kindness and constancy
she evinced towards all her early friends and school-mates,
irrespective of wealth and position. If only such spirits as
her's always held the power in this world, envy and jealousy
would perish from lack of reason to exist, for in the presence
of true worth and nobility they are said sometimes to turn
aside, " Blinded like serpents when they gaze
Upon the emerald's virgin blaze."
Mrs. Costan, a very attractive lady, one of the old resi
dents of Washington, whom we met at the Arlington Hotel,
first initiated me into some of the mysteries of society. She
took a very rose-colored view of everything, however, being
blessed with one of those sunny natures prone to forget
quickly the shadows. Our acquaintance began in rather a
funny way. We had been sitting at the same table for some
days, and, as the official people had not yet arrived in large
numbers, there was a disposition on the part of the few
guests to be sociable. No one had yet broken the ice, so to
speak, when, one day, I chanced to remark to my daughter,
in glancing over the menu: "Eve's pudding! I wonder
what that can be? I shall order some out of curiosity."
When it appeared, on inspecting it, I exclaimed: "Oh, I

212 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
might have known it was an apple!" This ancient illustra
tion proved the prelude to a charming companionship. The
fascinating Mrs. Howard Coit, of San Francisco, was one of
the very first ladies I met. Beneath her vivacious manner
there was a very tragic history, the husband for whom she
had sacrificed much, having proved wholly unworthy of her.
I am told she is now free from the chains which bound her
to him then. We soon after met one of the most remarkable
and interesting men in Washington, Dr. Gustavus W. Pope,
who often attended our children later. Besides being a great
savant, he is a fine musician and is possessed of the noblest
qualities of the heart. The sorrow of his life was the
untimely death of his only son, who was drowned in the
Hudson River. Since then, though life has "crept on a
broken wing," he has been the means of doing much good
to others in affliction. How fully he appreciated the angelic
beauty and the genius of my Maud! She was always very
fond of him and spoke of him a great deal everywhere we
went. Our nearest neighbors in Iowa Circle were the fam
ilies of General Ricketts, Colonel Rockwell and Colonel
Febiger. Mrs. Ricketts has, for many years, been celebrated
as one of the leaders in the brilliant society of the Capital,
and the Rockwells were all delightful. Mrs. Rockwell was
an extremely pretty woman. They were the most intimate
friends of the Garfield family, whose sons were at one time
being educated at their house with their son, Don Rockwell.
The Garfield boys were frank, manly fellows, not in the
least unduly elated at their father's elevation Such sterling
qualities, so early shown, would indicate for them a brilliant
future. Mrs. Johnson was a very lovely widow, with a pretty
daughter, Leila, and interesting sons, Harry and Paul. Mrs.
Johnson later married Rear- Admiral Febiger, and her recent
death, like all the events of her strange life, was sudden and
tragic. If her story were published as fiction, most people on
reading it would say " how improbable ! " Married at sixteen
to a naval officer, Capt. William Reilly, she was left a widow
in a few -weeks, the ship on which her young husband was
forced to sail having sunk with all on board, never to be
heard of more. The only son of this marriage, a very hand
some and promising follow, named for his father Willy
Reilly, was one of the young soldiers killed in the Custer
massacre. Her second husband. Colonel Johnson, died at a

COLUMBIA'S CAPITAL. 213
dinner-party, surrounded by friends, and now the lady her
self, having married again, and on the very eve of her only
daughter's wedding, is thrown from her carriage, never to
regain consciousness in this world. Though always smiling
and happy, yet she constantly mourned her lost son, the
superb young soldier, and often told me his death was the
"blow of her life."
The ladies of the Cabinet circle certainly receive the
most attention from the people. Their receptions are always
thronged, and one would suppose it to be an impossibility
that they should return all these calls in person, which they
do, though the task must be more than herculean. The
wife of General Belknap, who was the beauty and the belle
of the Cabinet during the Grant regime, told me that, at
dinners and receptions, the Secretary of State came first, then
the Secretary of the Treasury, the Secretary of War, the
Secretary of the Navy, the Postmaster-General, the At
torney-General, and last the Secretary of the Interior. So
it will be perceived that their social rank is in the order of
their creation as officials by the Government. A great deal
of jealousy and bitterness is often created by the precedence
in these matters, especially at White House receptions.
Though the ladies of the Cabinet are surrounded by the
greatest crowds, yet they are really compelled to make first
calls on the ladies of the Supreme Court and Senate. The
position of the Senators' families is one not easily de
fined. In fact, like that of the wives and daughters of the
Representatives in Congress, I observed that it was largely
determined by the possession of wealth enough to entertain
lavishly. I failed to see an instance of the most able and
distinguished Senator 'or Member obtaining any social prom
inence for himself or his friends on his or their own merits,
while there are all the while noted examples, which could be
quoted, where the lavish expenditure of money alone
brought celebrity. To be sure, it is of the most fleeting
kind in the world, and not worth one hour of the homage
accorded to ability or genius, for the very day these people
vanish they are as totally forgotten as those insects called
Ephemera, which idly hover for a few sunny hours over the
bosom of some forest stream. During our first term the
Starins, the Mortons, the Shermans, and the Hills, perhaps,
excelled all others in the gorgeousness of their entertainments.
Congressman John H. Starin was one of the New York

214 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
members, and was then quite influential in the politics of the
State. He seems to have disappeared from the political
surface in late years. His son-in-law, Mr. Howard Carroll,
I always thought a very bright man, not to be intimidated
by those in power against the defense of those he considered
unjustly treated. He was noted at one time as a brilliant
correspondent of the Times., and is a man much liked by the
brightest element of the Republican party. Senator John
Sherman's career I consider to have been a very great one, a
stepping from one high position to another. His mind seems
to be of the order that burns like a steady flame through the
years, unlike the flashing meteors that blaze sometimes
around him, to dazzle, to disappear, to be sunk in forgetful-
ness. Mrs. Sherman, also, possesses some rare qualities, and
in my opinion is most admirably fitted to be the wife of a
great man like her husband. She has the royal gift of
remembering faces and names, and is totally unassuming in
manner. Their evening receptions, though among the most
beautiful and lavish in the Capital, never strike one as so
incongruous as many others do, for they are so well suited to
them and to their long-standing position. Senator Sherman
is a remarkably young-looking man for one whose life has
been such an active one. Yet, perhaps, that is the reason such
men as he defy time's traces. Incessant thought endues
them with immortal youth. Though he resembles in
appearance his brother, the great General, I fancy they are
totally dissimilar in temperament. At all events, they are a
remarkable pair, of whom we all feel very proud. Senator
Hill, of Colorado, one of the wealthiest men in the Senate,
was also one of the most popular. His wife was wonderfully
agreeable and charming, and made "many warm friends.
Her manners were cordial to all without distinction, which
is a very wise thing to cultivate in this Republican country.
This fortunate man found gold in the crucible, like the
fabled alchemist of old, for it is said that he owes his wealth
to a valuable discovery he made in the process of melting
ores from the mines to convert them into the material which
opens the gates to everything in this world.
"Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold!
Bright and yellow, hard and cold,
Molten, graven, hammered and rolled ;
Heavy to get, and light to hold;
Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old,
To the very verge of the churchyard mold."

COLUMBIA'S CAPITAL. 215
Levi P. Morton and his handsome wife, though at that
time noted for their elegant hospitality^ were in the chrysalis
as compared with the blaze of auriferous glory which sur
rounds them now. The New York members at that time
lost for a while one of their brightest stars, that ro}-al good
fellow, John M. Bailey, of Albany. Hiswife was "acknowb
edged to be one of the most attractive women in the Capital.
We became very much attached to them, and their absence
was deeply regreted when Mr. Bailey accepted the German
Consulate, which took him away from his home for a period
of years. One look into the face of John Bailey, one grasp
of his honest hand, would convince the most cynical student
of our poor human nature that here was one in whom
boundless trust might be placed, one who could not falter in
his friendship, though the storm of misfortune prevailed and
weaker natures turned coldly away. It is certainly an
enigma difficult to solve, the reason of social success in
Washington. I have placed wealth as the first reason, and
it is one which grows stronger as time rolls on; for now
the rich people from a'l the States, quite irrespective of
politics or the holding of oilicial positions, are building costly
dwellings there, filling them with treasures of art, and
bidding the multitude to come and enjoy them. Strangely
enough, I do not think that personal attraction has anything
whatever to do with it; rather, in women, it would prove a
detriment, for no excessively plain and disagreeable woman
is going to surround herself with members of her own sex
to point the contrast. I was often secretly amused to notice
the ladies selected by the wives of some of the most promi
nent men to receive with them. The object was palpable;
they might as well have declared that for their favor none
but ugly women need apply. Social affairs are so purely a
matter of business in Washington that all the nonesense,
written and believed, about the beautiful syrens who flock
around the halls of legislature to captivate the solons there
assembled, I believe to be utterly absurd, false and absolutely
groundless. On the contrary, there is no city in the world
where men are so little the slaves of women, no place where
the intrigues of love are so rare. In the few affairs which
are discussed, or even suspected, the rule is very simple. If
the lady in the case is beautiful, she is simply ignored or
exterminated. If she is very commonplace, with no claims
to attraction, her position remains unassailed, or, possibly,

2i6 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
improved. An ugly woman never lacks for defenders, for
she is sure of her own sex; whereas a pretty woman is
deserted by both. The women will not stand by her, and
the men dare not, for what despotism is equal to that exer
cised by a plain woman over her husband, especially if she
holds the purse?
A better illustration could not be given of the cold fact
that mind and culture count for nothing, in themselves, in
the race, than the story of Garfield For seventeen long
years, under many trials and always under great pecuniary
embarrassments, he toiled on in the House of Representa
tives. He made brilliant speeches, and in all his genial con
versations he revealed the patient scholar and the many-sided
mind. His wife, though a woman of very quiet manner,
was also highly educated, like her husband. Their children
were trained to follow in the parents' footsteps. Yet the
people who then never paused to consider them as the years
rolled by, were the same people who afterwards, in their
frantic desire to gaze upon him as President of the United
States, almost risked their lives to press nearer to him in the
crowds that marked his progress through the country, which
now forever mourns the sadness of his tragic death. With
the exception of the large evening receptions, men and
women have their entertainments apart from each other.
There are the ladies' luncheons and the gentlemen's dinners.
These last are always with some special object in view, and
it would appear that they are at least somewhat effectual, for
Chauncey Depew, who is an authoritv on these things, has
of late laid great stress on a dinner-party given in Chicago,
in the interest of Harrison's nomination, ^'et, even thus
early, I discovered oases in the desert of selfish interest in
receptions like Mrs. John A. Logan's, who extended her
smiles to all, and whom to look at was a positive delight, so
sunny, so radiant, and yet so thoughtful she always was. I
was charmed with the home of Mrs. Jean Da-venport Lander,
once a famous actress, and afterwards the wife of General
Lander. There one is sure to meet any of the literati stray
ing about, one of whom the celebrated authoress, Mrs.
Burnett, I recall most distinctly. She is a fascinating talker,
and it is a rare treat to discuss her own writings with her,
as the creations seem so life-like. Washington is assuredly
a Paradise for elderly people, and I think this is a commend
able thing. For why should not human beings who have

COLUMBIA'S CAPITAL. 217
live 1, loved, reflected and suffered be interesting, more and
more as they grow older? It is a most barbarous idea that
life is for the very young only. As well say that in nature
there is simply the tender beauty of the spring-time, and to
deny the rosy summer and the mellow, golden autumn, and
the crystal white winter their own special charms, as to assert
that the sunset of life can not attract as well as its sunrise.
Surely the skies at sunset are as bright, though they tell of the
dying of the day. Some thoughtful poet delicately says:
" Nor spring nor summer beauty hath the grace
That I have seen in an autumnal face."
When Cleopatra wove her fatal spell around Mark Antony she
was at least forty years old, the old historians say, and her
name has come down through the ages with the idea of
resplendent beauty, and the most subtly alluring fascinations.
William Winter, the poet, says in his magnificent criticism
on a recent rendering of Shakespeare's play, wherein she is
heroine: "Antony and Cleopatra are in middle life, and the
only possible or admissible ideal of them is that which sepa
rates them at once and forever from the gentle, puny, experi
mental emotions of youth, and invests them with the developed
powers and fearless exultant passions of men and women to
whom the world and life are a fact and not a dream. Here
is no Orsino, sighing for the music that is the food of love;
no Romeo, taking the measure for an unmade grave; no
Hamlet-lover, bidding his mistress to go to a nunnery. You
may, indeed, if you possess the subtle poetic sense, discern,
all through this voluptuous story, the faint far-off rustle of
the garments of the coming Nemesis, the low moan of the
funeral music that will sing these imperial lexers to their
rest; for nothing is more inevitably doomed than mortal
delight in mortal love, and no moralist ever taught his
lesson of truth with more inexorable purpose than Shakes
peare uses here. The theme is the ruin of a demi-god. The
adjuncts are Empires." " Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch
Of the ranged empire fall!"
Byron did not take this view, however, for he says of Mark
Antony : ' ' He died at fifty, for a queen of forty ;
I would their years had been fifteen and twenty."

2i8 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Mrs. Conkling had told me some time before how much
older people enjoyed Washington life, and I was often after
wards reminded of her words. I never thought it a specially
fine prospect for young ladies to spend a season there. So
few of the official people bring their sons with them, as they
are generally either at school or in business, that the dearth
of eligible beaux is equal to that of a fashionable watering
place. I note the fact also that young girls are not introduced
into the world of society at an early age, as compared with
other places. For instance, if you inquire into the ages of
some of the prominent Senators' daughters, you will find
that though twenty, or even older, they are still in seclusion.
The reason why I neyer could ascertain, as eighteen is sup
posed to be the suitable time, both here and abroad, for
debutantes. The ladies of the families of the Justices of the Supreme
Court hold a very high and secure position, which has the
advantage of time to perfect and maintain it. The wives
and daughters of the Senators and Representatives, as they
are so very numerous, can not hope to be specially distin
guished, unless through some fortunate previous acquaintance
with the powers that be, or, as I said before, through the
possession of a fortune which enables them to buy a notice
from the gay world of pleasure-seekers, in which case they
give a fair price for every smile. When Mr. Crowley en
tered Congress, his old friends were there in full force, and,
as he was a great favorite, he was constantly dining out, and
had, perhaps, as great facilities as any man ever had to meet
the gifted and celebrated men of his time. As I have before
said, these state and political dinners were given in order to
discuss important questions, and had nothing whatever to do
with social life, and if I then judged some of those in high
places as being cold and selfish, and said to myself there was
no such thing as friendship in political life, I must confess
that Fate was arranging for me a surprise, through most sad
circumstances, in the near future, when I should find, beneath
the surface of all this outward seeming, some of the noblest
hearts in the world.
The following summer was almost completely occupied by
the struggle in Albany to return the two Senators, Conkling
and Piatt, who had abdicated in their rage and disappoint
ment from the places they struggled so hard to reach. I
presume one of the chief reasons why their hitherto warm

COLUMBIA'S CAPITAL. 219
supporters deserted them was, that many of them wished to
advance their own fortunes through the new Administration
and did not make any allowance for wounded dignity in the
matter. Vice-President Arthur and some other friends, feel
ing that Mr. Conkling had not treated them all quite fairly
in the previous election, that of Mr. Piatt, proposed that, in
the event of the impossibility of returning himself and Piatt
to the Senate, they should elect Mr. Crowley to succeed Mr.
Conkling, and decide upon some one else to succeed Mr.
Piatt. This proposal, as far as regarded Mr. Crowley, Sen
ator Conkling seemed readily to accept, and some of the
leaders, for a time, tried to arrange matters in that way. But
later, as the contest waxed hotter, and as Mr. Conkling saw, .
one by one, men fall away from him who once seemed so
staunch, he withdrew from all promises to aid any one in the
matter, and when it seemed possible at one time to compro
mise with Mr. Crowley and Mr. Depew, he violently
opposed it, and the result quickly followed in the election of
Lapham and Miller. Mr. Crowley favored ardently the
election of Depew, and said to me just before the close of
the contest that he believed that, united with him, both fac
tions would have been pleased, but Arthur would not then
displease Conkling, though he did not hesitate to do so a
little later, when he held the reins of a mighty power within
his grasp. Fortune, wearied with the unworthy jealousies
and weakness of those who had long been friends and fought
many a battle together, flew off with the prize and awarded
it to those who had hot entered the lists at all. Since then
the party in this state has been torn by factional strife, and
the strength of New York in the Senate and, in fact, every
where else, has been vastly impaired.
" Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they
grind exceeding small;
Though with patience he stands waiting, with
exactness grinds he all."

220 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
CHAPTER VIII.
The Arlington.
" We are puppets, Man in his pride, and Beauty fair in her flower ;
Do we move ourselves, or are moved by an unseen hand at a game
That pushes us off from the board, and others ever succeed?
Ah, yet, we can not be kind to each other here for an hour! "
Tennyson' s Maud.
Mr. Crowley was re-elected to Congress in 1880. We
then took up our abode at the " Arlington." This hotel is
famous for its historic location, its magical management, the
• distinction of its guests and, more than all, for its prince of
landlords. Theophilus Roessle is one of nature's master
pieces. A believer in the Karma of the Buddhists might
fancy him Alcibiades restored to life in the Nineteenth Cen
tury. No patrician of any age was ever a more thorough
gentleman. " Who'er has traveled life's dull round,
Whate'er its stages may have been.
May sigh to think he still has found
His warmest welcome at an inn. "
But sighs will be exchanged for smiles by the one who is
so fortunate as to be entertained by this gentleman, for, once
to be his guest is forever to be his friend. We have known
him well and intimately for many years, and one trait in him
is especially remarkable. Though he has lived long in
Washington, and has seen numerous Administrations flour
ish and fade away, and has seen those who were once glad
to receive favors from him elevated by some sudden change
of fortune, yet he keeps on the even tenor of his -way, cour
teous to all alike. No fawning to the powerful, no coldness
to the unfortunate, has ever been laid to his charge. When we
were under the shadow of a great sorrow, his generous help,
his unfailing sympathy, his charming gayety of manner, the
expression of his noble heart, were all as a staff for us to
lean upon. To meet thee again as of yore, dear " The.,"
would be as a lovely oasis in this life's sad desert; but, if
fate decrees otherwise, then, beyond the sable shore, among
the bright immortals, scarcely more radiant there than thou
art here, may we hope once more to receive thy voice and
smile of welcome! The "Arlington" was then, as now.

THE ARLINGTON. 221
noted as being the headquarters of the New York delega
tion to Congress. They were a very brilliant company of
men, and many of them haye since become celebrated. Mr.
Crowley at this time seemed surrounded by flattering au
spices. His old friends of the Senate at Albany in 1866 had
arisen to greatness. Chester A. Arthur, who at that time
was known principally as Mr. Murphy's lawyer, had, in the
marvelous changes of time, become President of the United
States. Charles J. Folger, my husband's bosom friend, was
Secretary of the Treasury. Mr. Thomas Murphy himself
in the interval had lost his once princely fortune, and he
went to Washington, naturally hoping that the man who
owed all to him would be only too happy to bestow upon
him some mark of friendship.
Air. Crowley, having through several previous Adminis
trations entirely controlled the patronage of his own district,
was supposed now to possess a much wider influence. We
shall see how these hopes were fulfilled. The French prov
erb, a favorite saying with President Garfield, " It is the
unexpected that happens," was never better illustrated. I
remember about this time one of the greatest actors the
world ever produced, John McCullough, played Richard the
Third to a large and admiring audience in Washington. In
his wonderful portraiture of this monster of ingratitude was
plainly suggested the living drama about to be enacted on
this stage of life, where " men and women are the players,
and one man in his time plays many parts." " De mortuis nil
nisi bonutn^'' said the ancient Romans, but, were this axiom
carried out in history, the record would be of little value.
" Since the silent shore awaits at last even those whom longest
miss the old archer's shafts," why should there be such a vast
difference between describing the dead and the living? We
are shocked to read of kings and princes who fail to reward
those who solaced and sheltered them in exile, who risked
their lives and fortunes to place them upon the coveted
throne. We exclaim with horror at the barbarity of Rich
ard when he cries " Off with his head ! So much for Buck
ingham ! " that nobleman having served his purpose. But, in
the present day and in this Republican country, when a man
is literally lifted up to high places on the shoulders of infat
uated friends, and, on reaching his proud eminence, in
stantly proceeds to ignore and disown those who placed him
there, the surrounding world not only flatters this embodied •

222 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
despotism and selfishness, but, when the person dies, he is
eulogized and canonized. If they absolutely know him to
ha\e been grossly dissipated, they say he perished from over
work in the service of his country. If he is flagrantly and
recklessly immoral, they not only decorously shut their eyes
to his deeds, but court most obsequiously the companions of
his revels.
Mv own private opinion has always been that Arthur made
a great mistake in changing or interfering with the Cabinet
selected by General Garfield. Not only because the tragic
death of the President made it seem somewhat in the light
of a sacred legacy that his chosen advisers should be retained,
but that they were all such eminently fit and proper men for
the place. First, James G. Blaine! He would have shed a
glory around the administration of Arthur, which it certainly
never possessed after his withdrawal from the scene. First
impressions are not always true, but the one I formed of
James G. Blaine on the instant of 'meeting him I have never
had reason to change, I had been spending the evening
with Miss Dodge, which is to say I was happy and almost
forgot that life held cares, and in addition to her delightful
company, I enjoyed that of her guests, Mr, and Mrs, William
Bishop, of Bridgeport, Connecticut, I was so charmed with
them that it has often been a matter of great regret to me
not to have met them again, Mr, and Mrs. Blaine were
dining out, and as I had so often told Miss Dodge that I
would like to hear Mr. Blaine talk, she asked me to wait
until their return. I did so, and the time, the scene, the
words will never be forgotten. Mr. Blaine is fascinating and
winning to the utmost possible degree. He is courteous to
every one. I have never heard that he was ever cold in his
manner to the humblest suppliant for his influence. To de
scribe the magnetic power for which he is so famous would
be as difficult as to paint the rainbow's fairy tints, or the
burning and changing dyes of the sunset, so much depends
on expression, on the infinite variety of graces embodied in
the word " Address." It is all irresistible but indescribable.
When the rude and crusty Johnson finally obtained an inter
view with Lord Chesterfield, after waiting until his patience
was almost exhausted, he confessed that, in coinmon with all
the rest of the world, he was overpowered with the enchant
ment of his address. This was the tribute of intellect to
m.itchless grace of manner, of talent to tact. Mr. Blaine

THE ARLINGTON. 223
combines both, and the result is the flower of statesmen!
The late Emery Storrs, himself a brilliant man, as all who
knew him will testify, said of Adelina Patti that she was the
" Empress of Song, past, present and future," So I say of
James G, Blaine of Maine, he is the Napoleon of American
Statesmen! In that word Napoleon, which once shook
empires and will forever thrill the hearts of mankind, is ex
pressed the ne plus ultra of imperial power and personal
magnetism. Men died happy knowing their lives vvere
sacrificed for him, and in the campaign where Mr. Blaine
was the standard bearer many a man said he would have
died to elect him ! I heard a venerable man say a few days
ago that he had wept like a child at the defeat of Henry
Clay. As this magic name "Harry of the West" still stirs
the aged breast, so in the years to come will the name of
Blaine be heard from faded lips, now ros}- with the flush of
youth. It will be sung in verse and engraved on the pages
of history. As the great Cardinal said of France, " Cest tnoi,
Richelieu!'''' so our great Premier might say of his counti}-,
and many an ardent admirer would echo the sentiment.
If one is prevented by the cruel treachery of enemies from
reaching the coveted goal, then some sweet consolation must
be derived from the proud consciousness that one can at least
bar their progress, can snatch the cup from their eager lips.
Warwick must have found king-making a very enjoyable
pastime, perhaps more to be envied than any of the
pleasures tasted by the veritable wearers of the crown.
The Blaine family, too, were perfectly adapted in all
ways to a lofty position. Mrs. Blaine is a majestic
and extremely dignified woman, and would hold her
own royally. On my first meeting with her I could see
at once that she possessed a very fine mind. I also found
her very kind and sympathetic, though in general her man
ner might be said to be undemonstrative. Walker Blaine
has the priceless heritage of his father's courtly air and
sympathetic heart. The great man will have in this son a
most worthy successor. The name of his friends is already
legion. With a marvelous memory of faces, he has the most
delightful way of giving confidence to the timid ones who
approach him in the hope of his intercession. When one has
observed the sons of men of mushroom growth become intoxi
cated with the glare of a brief reflected light, it is a fine and
glorious thing to see this young man, who has all his life in-

224 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
haled the incense forever poured before his father's footsteps,
so perfectly free from conceit or superciliousness. So many
people in this world seem to forget, in their prosperity, that
the iron hand of circumstances, or the fierce heat of tempta
tion might have wholly changed their lots. The good
author of Pilgrim's Progress, when he sa-w a poor drunken
wretch go reeling past, sadly exclaimed: " There, but for
the grace of God, goes John Bunyan." In Miss Dodge,
more familiarly known as Gail Hamilton, a mine of brilliancy
lies stored, whose sparkling gems are never to be exhausted,
for it is in communing with minds like hers that one feels
certain of immortality. I remember, in one of her early
essays, speaking of progression as the best happiness, and
alluding to the commonly expressed wish of weary people
to return once more to the careless life of childhood, she
replies: "It is better to be a man or -woman than a child,
and better to be an angel than either." Though I always
admired this saying, yet deep waves of sorrow were destined
to roll above my head before I fully realized its truth and
beauty. An admirer once said of Lady Mary Walpole that
to have loved her was a liberal education. Many friends
must have thought thus of Gail Hamilton. Once I heard a
beautiful compliment for her which I thought might be
compared to one of the crown jewels famous in great
empires. But then, they are transferred from one brow to
another, and this could never be, for it would suit no other.
It was praise from the "Sir Hubert" of the American Press,
Charles Emory Smith. I cannot quote precisely the spark
ling and honeyed words from lips sweetened by Attic bees
and touched by Promethean fire, but the sentiment was that,
for inspiration of sarcasm or of laudation, he sought the
fountain of her writings. From this modern Pierian Spring
he refreshed his mind. Perhaps to continue my words after
his would be to endeavor to hold a feeble taper to a portrait
already lighted by a star. I always felt, after a talk with
her, that the Elixir of Life was no fabled dream, but that,
instead of roaming about in forests to find it in some hidden
stream, or seeking it in the crucible of the alchemist, one
should look for it in natures such as hers, for there alone in
this dull world can it be found. All sensitive souls feel a
sort of consciousness when in the presence of envy or malice,
or any of the vices, that infest small minds. How delightful,
then, to be with one whose intelligence is so radiant, whose

THE ARLINGTON. 225
heart is so truly in sympathy with all suffering humanity
that a most powerful support is at once given to the fainting
spirit. This partly describes the effect Miss Dodge always
had upon me in the memorable talks I enjoyed with her.
But to paint those spells woven by the magic power of
Genius, how pale the word colors are. A glance, a tone,
conveys so much more! The home of the Blaine's was
always one of the most attractive ever known in Washington.
Their entertainments were remarkable for their brilliancy,
and it was always esteemed a great privilege to know them
well. Judge William H. Hunt, of Louisiana, was selected by
President Garfield for Secretary of the Navy. I first met
him at one of the charming receptions given at his home in
Washington, and I believe no diplomat at the Russian
Court, to which he was subsequently an Ambassador, ever
possessed more knightly manners or more fascinating conver
sational powers. His accomplished and popular wife was
greatly missed during their mission abroad, and her friends
fully realized the great loss sustained by her in the sad death
of her husband. I am told she has found consolation in the
bosom of the Roman Catholic Church, that refuge on earth
for the broken-hearted. It seems to be the natural resting-
place for all greatand poetic souls. In Hawthorne's "Marble
Faun," when Hilda, the young New England heroine, be
comes by chance the possessor of a guilty secret too weighty
for her innocent soul to bear, she wanders into Saint Peter's
and, at the sight 6f the confessionals open to every language,
extending as it were an invitation to over-burdened hearts to
pour out their sorrows there, she feels an irresistible impulse
to seek the priestly help, to throw herself upon the mighty
protection of the Church of Rome. Undying as the incense
upon her altars is the ceaseless tribute rendered unto her by
genius in every form. Painters and sculptors speak an
immortal language from her walls. Music forever pours
forth its sweetest and most heavenly strains in her Te Deums
and Ave Marias. The deathless creations of Beethoven, of
Mozart and countless others ring through her vaulted cathe
drals, and the divine singers Italy sends forth to gladden
the world, as they are mostly children of the Church, lend
their angelic voices to tell us, as we are borne aloft on the
wings of ecstasy far from the cares and sorrows of earth,
that there is a home where our dearly beloved will meet us

226 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
once more, radiantly happy, never to be torn from our arms
again ! Where flowers never fade in our grasp! Where
bright hopes do not wither as well, where, "released from all
our hurtful foes, we safe arrive on Canaan's shore." Poets,
too, will sing sweetest hymns to the Virgin Mary, for the
Muses refuse to turn from the classic haunts of romance, and
the shrines of old, where king and peasant bent the knee, to
the cold and untrodden paths of every new ideal of mankind.
Byron, in his most wayward moods, pauses at the soft sound
of the vesper bell:
" Ave Maria ! 'tis the hour of prayer !
Ave Maria ! 'tis the hour of love !
Ave Maria ! may our spirits dare
Look up to thine and to thy Son's above !
Ave Maria ! Oh that face so fair !
Those downcast eyes beneath the Almighty Dove !"
Longfellow, though born in a Puritan land, lingers lov-
inglv over Catholicr legends, gilding them anew with his
gentle touch, and he has framed in his most beautiful poems
some exquisite portraits of the inspired band of Jesuit Fathers,
who first consecrated Columbia's shores.
The removal of Mr. Thomas L.James from the Postmaster-
Generalship was a double loss. He has a very agreeable,
sympathetic manner, and readily makes friends. As for Mrs.
James, her departure from Washington I always regarded as
a positive calamity. Lovely in all ways, a sincere friend, an
ornament to her husband's position, she w^as not only admired
by all, but loved by many. The young people adored her,
and none so fondly as my daughter Maud. Therefore she is
enshrined in my fondest remembrance as one of the sweetest
and noblest of women. Maud was then only fifteen and had
enjoyed but a fleeting glimpse of the world she was so soon
destined to leave. Mrs. James -was drawn to her, first by her
marvelous beauty, and then by her winning graces of mind
and manner. One of her brightest experiences in Washing
ton was on the New Year's day she received with Mrs.
James, and I never recall the incident without blessing her
for her kindness to my angel child. Alas! how soon all these
tender ties were rudely severed. The wounds made thereby
will never be healed in this world !

THE ARLINGTON. 227
"What deep wound ever closed without a scar ?
The heart's bleed longest, and but heal to -wear
That which disfigures it; and they who war
With their own hopes and have been vanquished, bear
Silence but not submission ; in his lair
Fix'd passion holds his breath, until the hour
Which shall atone for years; none need despair;
It came, it cometh, and will come, the power
To punish or forgive, in one we shall be slower."
John F. Smyth, of Albany, once said of President Arthur
that " no one who had ever arisen to great power in this
country ever caused so many wrecks to be scattered on the
shore." They were the wrecks of friends whose hopes and
lives he had blighted He left ruin in his track in the hope,
through this colossal ingratitude, to rise to still greater
eminence by proving himself the choice of the people, as
doubtless he was weary of the cognomen, "His Accidency,"
said to be conferred on him by Senator Conkling in the first
assumption of his imperial manner to the man whose slightest
notice had once bgen prized by him. The other members of
Garfield's Cabinet, Mr. William Windom, of Minnesota, who
was Secretary of the Treasury; Mr. Wayne McVeagh, of
Philadelphia, Attorney- General, and Mr. Samuel J. Kirk-
wood, of Iowa, Secretary of the Interior, I had seldom met,
and can not therefore criticise from personal knowledge and
observation ; but Mr. Crowley knew, esteemed and admired
them all, and I believe they were all very able and- distin
guished men. Mr. Windom, I was told later, on being com
pelled to renounce his seat in the ill-starred Cabinet, found it
impossible to recover his place in the Senate because he had
built a new house in Washington. I have always since then
hoped to see him back again in position, were it only to dis
appoint such petty malice. It is really a pity that such pusillan
imous people should bave the privilege of voting against brains.
In Europe this prying into a man's private life and affairs is
never tolerated. A statesman should be judged by his public
deeds alone. But one gem was retained of all this famous
coterie, one star of those who surrounded the then blazing sun
of Garfield, so soon to be sunk in eternal night. This was
Robert T. Lincoln, the son of our immortal Abraham ! Did
some mysterious power warn Arthur not to displace the son
of one martyr from the Cabinet of another ? General Arthur,
during the illness of the President, was the guest of Senator
Jones, of Nevada, who lived at that time in the gray stone

2 28 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
house opposite the Capitol, formerly occupied by Benjamin
Butler. I havfe since been informed, by those who were con
stantly in the company of Arthur in those days, that he
assumed a totally different manner to his friends and former
advisers when he was assured that the days of Garfield were
numbered, and that impending greatness cast its shadow
before and transformed him completely before he entered
the White House. I remember, one evening in par
ticular, he was driving out with Mr. Crowley, and
he said, in discussing the contemplated breaking up of
Garfield's Cabinet, that he would construct one such as no
one ever had before, and that the whole country would be
astonished when the names were announced. Perhaps they
were, but not with the mingled awe and admiration he antici
pated. I know it to be a fact that Mr. Conkling, although
he did not, at any period of his life, especially value a place
in the Cabinet, fully expected and desired to be invited to
take the position of Secretary of State when Arthur became
President. He felt that it would be a s.acrifice he would
willingly make for the friend he had already served so well.
But Arthur would not listen to the proposition for a moment,
when it was broached to him by mutual friends without the
knowledge of Conkling, who, of course, would never dream
of asking it himself. As a matter of fact, Arthur was
indebted almost wholly to Conkling for his nomination to
the Vice-Presidency, for, although he was opposed to New
York's acceptance of the second place on the ticket at
Chicago, yet Garfield's expressed suggestion to the party
leaders was to offer the place to Arthur to placate the wrath
and disappointment of Conkling and assure his support in
the election. And frequently, in explaining his extreme
sensitiveness and anger in regard to the Custom House, he
would say that it was because his friend Arthur had been
once so ignominiously dismissed from the same position. He
stood, therefore, in the attitude of one who had laid down his
political life for his friend. " Greater love hath no man than
this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." Thus, even
at that early period, it was understood that he was to have no
voice in the new Administration, although, of course, the outside
world did not realize this until some months later, and in the
meantime friends were hoping and enemies fearing that he
would be the power behind the throne, the Richelieu to this
modern Louis, who proved far more ungrateful than his pro-

THE ARLINGTON. 229
totype. I have always thought Senator Conkling showed
more wisdom than the rest of the Stalwart coterie in under
standing at once how little hope there was of accomplishing
any good results with a nature so infinitesimal that a chance
elevation deprived it of all manly qualities.
Senator Conkling never afterwards went to Washington
except on business, and he called at the White House but
once during the occupancy of Arthur. But some of those
who knew the latter well in other days still hovered around
him in the vain hope of favor, and even tried to ingratiate
themselves by regaling him with idle gossip on the rare
occasions when they were admitted in the presence of " His
Accidency." I know that every criticism of him that I made
during that time was repeated, with additions largely magni
fied, by persons whom I had hitherto considered gentlemen.
One thing, however, is certain in regard to mischief-makers,
and that is, if they so succeed in working ill to those whom
they betray, they never accomplish any good for themselves.
This instance was no exception to that rule, for Mr. Arthur
said, alluding to these people who carried tales to him, that
he expected, as a matter of course, they would treat him in
the same way, and he should not place the slightest confi
dence in any of them; and his subsequent treatment of the
noble and high-minded band proves the truth of this asser
tion. He chose in Mr, Blaine's place, as Secretary of State,
Frederick T, Frelinghuysen, of New Jersey. This gentle
man must have been quite as much surprised to find himself
once more in the Capital of his country, as the sleeping beauty
when awakened by the kiss of the fairy prince, or Rip Van
Winkle when he awoke from his sleep of twenty years. I
believe his retirement from active political life had been at
least that long. His family were quite popular in Washing
ton society, one in particular. Miss Tillie, being a marked
favorite. Their wealth gave them a decided social advan
tage, and they entertained very handsomely. It was amus
ing' to those who had known Arthur all his life to hear him
talk about good blood, and heraldry, and all that sort of
thing, after he became duly installed in the White House.
He was not of aristocratic lineage himself, and none of his
Presidential family, as the Cabinet is sometimes termed, bore
any outward evidence of royalty, though they were all, of
course, estimable people. He selected from all his old friends
one, as a member of this chosen band, which he fondly hoped

230 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
was destined to astonish the world. Charles J. Folger was
made Secretary of the Treasury. He had previously offered
the position to Ex-Governor Morgan, who at once declined
it on the score of fast advancing years. His death, vvhich
occurred not long after, proved the wisdom of his decision.
The Stalwarts were delighted at the selection of Folger, and
it seemed an auspicious beginning, though the shadow of the
sad death of Garfield hung over all things that first year, and,
indeed, long after, for those who especially loved and remem
bered him. Mr. Crowley sent the following despatch to
Judge Folger, on learning that he had been chosen :
Accept my hearty congratulations upon your appointment. It is a
deserved and well- placed tribute, and creditable to the President's head
and heart. Richard Crowley.
To which Judge Folger replied thus:
Geneva, N. Y., October, iS8i.
Dear Richard: — You have the audacity to congratulate me ! Instead of
saying to me: "You infernal old short-sighted fool; why didn't you stay
where you were, floating along quietly, where what you did or did not do
disturbed no man's affairs except the writer's, where you drew a handsome
salary quarterly, were at the head of the Bench of the greatest state in the
Union, and after six short years of service, if your battered old carcass held
together so long, you could retire with honor and dignity, and still keep on
the arduous labor of drawing your salary quarterly ?" But it is over now,
I am no more Chief Judge, I am " Mr. Secretary." We will meet in Wash
ington in December and renew the old times. I hope Mrs. Crowley is
going to Washington this winter I expect to take a house, and my daugh
ter will go. Yours, Charles J. Folger.
His family then consisted of himself and three children,
his wife having died many years before. His daughter,
Susie, the youngest of all, was then at boarding school in
Connecticut. She is now the only surviving one, for in these
few years father, brother and sister have passed away. She
has, doubtless, many kind friends, but nothing can compen
sate for the loss of kindred so near and dear. Judge Folger
was tender and devoted to his family. I remember that for
some time after the death of his yvife he could not hear the
hymn, "Jerusalem the Golden," without being affected to
tears. Many a time did he have occasion to regret the call
of destiny, which snatched him away from his peaceful and
honorable place on the Bench to the stormier one which

THE ARLINGTON. 231
proved to be wholly unsuited to him. In a word, he never
was the same Folger in Washington that he had been in
Albany. There were several reasons for this, chief of which
was that Arthur soon repented of the one good impulse that
had actuated him from his accession to the Presidency. He
never treated Folger with any of the kindness one would
expect from an old friend, who was now closely associated
with him in the high office he held. He always spoke to us
very frankly of this coolness on the part of the President.
He first alluded to it on the occasion of some one asking him
to convey to Arthur some little message. Said he: "I wish
you to understand that I am not an habitue of the White
House. In fact, I am treated in such a manner by the Presi
dent that I bitterly regret the sacrifice I made in leaving my
place on the Bench." Frequently, later on, when he com
plained in the same way, I said to him that, if he had a spark
of that spirit which animated the Folger of old, he would
not, for an instant, endure such treatment at the hands of a
man he well knew to be vastly beneath him in ability. But
he seemed determined to endure the galling chain to the
bitter end. Arthur, growing more and more dissatisfied, at
last finding it impossible to freeze him out, caused him to
be nominated for Governor with the avowed intention of
getting him out of the Way in that manner. Mr. Folger told
us that after that nomination he never could succeed in
obtaining an interview with Arthur, who did not in the
slightest way help to elect him. This was the setting of his
star, and he died not long after at the age of sixty-six. Many
attribute his death to this defeat, but I never believed this,
for countless multitudes would die, if disappointment were so
fatal to life. I only know it embittered his last days, and
that he was cruelly wounded by the attitude of Arthur
towards him. About the time it was being whispered abroad
that he was not contented in the Treasury, I chanced to meet
Ex-Senator Conkling in the Fifth Avenue Hotel in New
York City. He remarked that it was a great surprise to him
that our friend, Mr. Folger, would keep the Portfolio under
the circumstances. He also said the cowardice of Arthur in
failing to remove Robertson from the position of Collector
had disgusted him almost more than anything else. I told
him I did not agree with him in this, for the terrible quarrel
about Robertson had led to the cruel tragedy of Garfield's
death, by inflaming the mind of the assassin; that I should

232 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
think Arthur would hesitate very much to remove him at all,
for that reason, and also from the fact that Garfield appointed
Robertson from the rarest of motives, that of gratitude;
that, if Arthur had shown half the kind remembrance to his
friends that Garfield had manifested towards mere acquaint
ances, we should not then be all in exile undeserved. In all
this he partially agreed with me, and said some very amusing
and sarcastic things about Arthur. One was: "I am told
one is not allowed to sit now in the presence of His High
ness." I frankly told Mr. Conkling what I thought regarding his
attitude in the Senatorial contest between Mr. Crowley and
Mr. Piatt, but he always insisted to me that he did not
interfere in the matter at all, and I came to think that, even
if he did, his offense against the unwritten laws of friendship
was light compared with that of others under the same cir
cumstances. I have since observed that, in some recent
elections, the greatest intimacy counted as nothing, and the
active hostility of boon companions was not even resented in
the very smallest degree. I have also noted that neithei
slights nor treachery are revenged upon the perpetrators, if
they are in high standing or possess much wealth. To be
false, heartless and ungrateful are luxuries which money
controls along with other things. Resentment never holds
out against the potent charms of gold or power. I believe
dispositions are not so different in Republican countries from
those in despotic ones as people imagine. Among the would-be
courtiers, who surrounded Arthur, it was a very common thing
to hear the word "treason" employed in the sense in which
it was used in old Venetian days, or in France, when the
voice which uttered a protest against the deeds of royalty
was quickly hushed, "where the shadows fell darkest in the
dungeons of the old Bastile." Power has a baleful effect
upon some natures. It seems to bring to the surface all that
is dark, cruel, cold and malignant. There was Frederick the
Great, of Prussia, who suffered in his youth from the
tyranny of his father; yet, no sooner did he wear the crown
than he inflicted still greater misery on his own family and
others than he himself had ever been compelled to undergo.
Elizabeth, of England, long herself a captive, imprisoned
the flower of her country on the slightest pretext all through
her reign, and generally ended their sad lives by murdering
them. Of course the only inference to be drawn, when one

THE ARLINGTON. 233
sees a man suddenly assume an austere and pompous manner
after sudden elevation, when he has hitherto been overflowing
with bonhommie, is that he is too small for the position.
History and experience both promise that he will again find
his proper level. The belief in destiny, though often treated
with derision, has been shared by earth's greatest minds. It
is certainly a great sustaining power in the bitterness of
undeserved trials. When the heart is bleeding from wounds
inflicted by the cruelty of those who, drunk with the wine
of success, look down with scorn on the unfortunate, sweet
is the whisper from some immortal source that tells us, just
as surely as the hand on the dial points its unerring and
unfaltering finger, will the hour at last arrive when they,
not we, shall be trampled under the pitiless Juggernaut of
Fate. Nothing in all the Bible is so striking as the story of
Dives and Lazarus. Yet the rich man goes devoutly to
church, and hears how it is easier for a camel to pass through
the eye of a needle than for him to enter the kingdom,
without the slightest impression on his marble heart, for
getting that the shroud has no pockets, and ignoring such
examples as that of Vanderbilt, who was recently so uncere
moniously ushered into a country where his check possesses
not the slightest value. But the careful observer of history,
both old and new, finds evidence enough that we see retri
bution follow swiftly on the track of evil in this world.
The Nemesis of the ancients and the modern belief of the
Universalists have certainly abundant proof that "Time at
last sets all things even." Napoleon believed in Fate, hence
he was called the Man of Destiny. It was foretold to
Josephine in youth that one day she should be Empress of
France, and Napoleon in his memoirs confessed a thrill of
superstitious fear, when, on announcing his decree of divorce,
she pointed to a bright star which shone down on this
memorable interview, and said, "Sire, that star was mine, not
yours." And certainly it was not long ere his power to play
the mighty game of kingdoms departed, and the empire he
hoped to found faded like the memory of a vanished dream.
Victor Hugo in his matchless description of the hero's last
battle, says that Fate in the guise of Waterloo overtook
Napoleon. Does not this show a belief in destiny ? Byron,
too, warns him that "tempted Fate will leave the loftiest
star." Ancient mythology and the lives of the Greeks and
Romans are always illustrated by constant allusions to the

234 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Goddess Fortune, whom they were always striving to pro
pitiate. Philip, of Macedon, the father of Alexander the
Great, on receiving news of several victories in one day,
exclaimed: "Oh, Fortune grant some slight reverse for these
great successes!" Csesar, when in danger from storm at sea,
being in disguise, revealed himself to the frightened captain
with the words: "Trust Fortune, and know that you carry
Cffisar." Theremenes, one of the thirty tyrants of Athens,
was feasting with his friends, when suddenly the house fell
in ruins. He alone stood unharmed in the wreck of the
banquet hall. But, instead of rejoicing, he exclaimed, "Oh,
Fortune! for what calamity dost thou reserve me?" Not
long after, he was put to death. It has been said that Presi
dent Lincoln believed in Fate, and that, after his second in
auguration, he was menaced with the perils that attend
great success, that he was haunted with a sad presentiment
that he would never live to see the end of his second term of
office. He seemed to have been inspired for the terrible time
in which he -was the leading light, the star which guided us
through peril and storm.
That his honored son, Robert T. Lincoln, remained in the
Cabinet of Arthur is the one redeeming feature of his
Administration. Not only did the glory of his father's
name protect him from supercilious treatment, but he was per
sonally so very popular, such a fearless, manly character, that
policy would dictate a most courteous deference in his case.
Many would now be delighted to see him President of the
United States. For Postmaster-General he selected Timothy
O. Howe, of Wisconsin, who died during his term of office,
and was succeeded by Walter Q. Gresham, of Indiana. On
the death of Folger, Gresham became his successor in the
Treasury. Then, at the close of the Administration, wishing
to bestow a Circuit Court Judgeship upon Mr. Gresham,
Arthur made Hugh McCullough, who had been in Johnson's
Cabinet, Secretary of the Treasury. To the vacant seat of
Postmaster-General then rose the popular Mr. Frank Hatton,
of Burlington, Iowa. This deserved promotion was hailed
with great delight by the old Stalwart band. Mr. Hatton is
possessed of fine abilities, and doubtless has a brilliant future
in store for him. He was until quite recently the editor of
the New York Press, but is now managing the Washington
Post. Benjamin H. Brewster, of Philadelphia, was made
Attorney-General. His familv were quite conspicuous

THE ARLINGTON. 235
socially. Both Mr. and Mrs. Brewster have since died, also
Mr. and Mrs. Frelinghuysen. It is not surprising that there
were so many deaths in this special circle when we refiect
that, with the exception of "Bob Lincoln," as his admirers
fondly styled him, they were nearly all aged people when
Arthur's bugle-call summoned them from retirement. This
assertion would not apply to Henry F, Teller, of Colorado,
who was taken from the ranks of the Senate to preside over
the Interior Department, or William E, Chandler, of Con
necticut, who was chosen to be the Secretary of the Navy.
New York State was at this time represented in the Senate
by Elbridge G. Lapham, of Canandaigua, and Warner
Miller, of Herkimer. Senator Lapham I had heard much
of through some relatives at Lockport, the Spalding family,
one of the oldest and most distinguished in Niagara County.
Senator Miller had just previously been in the House of
Representatives, and at the same time with Mr. Crowley.
Both these Senators were at one time guests at the "Arling
ton." Mrs. Miller always had a large circle of attached
friends, and they tell me she is greatly missed in Washington.
Senator Miller has gone nobly through two great contests of
late, one for re-election to the Senate, and the other for
Governor of the State. He emerged with renewed strength
from each of them, and is a marked example of the truth that
homage is not always due to the victor. The Duke of
Wellington said that nothing except a battle lost would be
half so melancholy as a battle won. In the case of Senator
Miller, as well as that of Mr. Crowley in his defeat for
Congress at the same time, I think the way in which some
victories are won deprive them of all their glory and take
from defeat its sting. Money, the lever of the modern Archi
medes, has now become a necessity to success. Not all the
eloquence of a Demosthenes or a Burke avails without the
golden key that unlocks the Cabinets and delivers over the
archives of the States. Webster, could he be recalled from
the abode of all the mighty shades, might roll his dark eye
in vain, while with the spirit of prophecy he saw the sun
"shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once
glorious Union," to gain the power to rule which is now
vested in the millionaire, the lords of the mine, the ranch and
the corporation. When will this stain be wiped away, as
slavery has been, as one by one all unjust things must be ?
With how much more blood of patriotic genius must the

236 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
hydra-headed monsters of malice and avarice thus be satiated ?
Yet it is better to have the world wonder why a man is not
elected than to wonder why he is elected, Cato said he
would rather men should ask why Cato had no statue than
why he had one.
Opposition, when carried to persecution, crowns the victim
as a martyr and recoils upon the head of the aggressors.
The simplest logic shows that men attack others from one of
two motives, either to avenge an injury, or to gratify their
jealousy. Therefore, when we are conscious that, instead of
injuries, we have but heaped benefits upon our accusers,
there is but one deduction to be drawn, and that is, that cal
umny, like death, loves a shining mark, and that all the
virtues and talents, did we possess them, would not protect
us from the slanders of the envious, the bitter attacks of en
emies, or, as Coleridge says, " that worse than foe, an alien
ated friend." I firmly believe that malignant criticism,
though at first it sharply wounds, helps and inspires us far
more than the praises of our devoted friends. The valuable
knowledge of our faults we gain from those -who hate, for
we would never hear it uttered by the lips we love. If, in
life's weary race, we falter and feel inclined to give up the
struggle, what so quickly goads us on to fresh endeavor as
the envenomed shaft from the enemy's bow? Thus charac
ter and intellect are elevated and purified by trials. Nothing
great and beautiful in this world has been produced without
suffering. The oyster creates the peerless pearl -which is
destined to shine in the dark tresses of beauty only through
some process of pain; the fairest lily blooms from the black
est clay ; the nightingale sings sweetest -when her bosom has
been pierced by a thorn ; so misfortunes and persecutions
develop the greatest genius! Had the reviewers not at
tacked Lord Byron so fiercely, he might never have achieved
immortality. He replied to them with annihilating sarcasm,
and his Muse's strains thereafter soared above the flight of
their poisoned arrows. Thus, with him, as well as all other
ambitious natures, the fire, " once kindled, quenchless ever
more, preys upon high endeavor, nor can tire of aught but
rept." It is not always the thirst for power which animates
such minds, it is that action is a necessity of their being.
John Quincy Adams, at three score and ten, replied to some
one who advised him to give up public life, "while a rem-

THE ARLINGTON. 237
nant of physical power is left me to write and to speak, the
world will retire from me before I shall retire from the -vi/orld."
I always thought New York had then a proud array of
members, and our political family under the roof of Mr.
Roessle -was a very bright and happy one. My husband,
Richard Crowley, ranked first as orator and statesman. No
man in Washington was more popular at that time, but the
change that took place in this respect, after his estrangement
from President Arthur, was a marked commentary on human
nature. It would have been very amusing, were it not piti
ful, to see the men who had followed him from morn till eve,
who would scarcely allow him a moment from their sight,
and seemed to live but in his smiles, suddenly drop away
when the sunshine of Imperial favor was withdrawn,
" Like the leaves of the forest,
When Summer is green.
That host with their banners
At sunset were seen.
Like the leaves of the forest
When Autumn had flown.
That host on the morrow
Lay withered and strown."
The beginning of coldness bet-ween friends is not easy to
describe. Sometimes it is the
"Little rift within the lute
That by-and-by doth make all music mute;"
sometimes the suddenly discovered treachery that snaps for
ever the chords that seemed to be woven into the very strands
of life. Mr. Crowley never then, or at any subsequent time,
was heard in the very slightest way to attack or evan criti
cise General Arthur. The men who did these things them
selves were the ones who carried falsehoods to the ears of the
President. Bitter though it is to be thus wronged, who,
with a spark of honor, would change places with such trai
tors ? The world knew it was all the fault of Arthur, but
while he was President many acted on the belief that the king
could do no wrong. Just before his death he sent a messen
ger in search of Mr. Crowley and, expressed a wish for a
reconciliation, but it was then too late, for he had left the city.
During that term of Congress there was a glorious oppor
tunity for Arthur, had he possessed a chivalric nature, to

238 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
requite the ancient hospitality of the once princely Ex-Sena
tor Thomas Murphy. His hand had first been held out to
assist this man in his youthful days, but the same ingratitude
which closed the portals of the White House against Roscoe
Conkling and all the other old friends who had proved their
devotion, raised a more adamantine barrier between this for
mer prot^g^ and his benefactor. Mr. Murphy was too proud
to ask for favors, when they should have been offered to him
with eagerness. He received no summons for council or
banquet, though Ai'thur had been formerly quite as fre
quently a guest at his table as he was supposed to be at his
own ; and the consultations there had laid the foundation for
his successful career. But, Hke the base Judean, he threw a
pearl away, richer than all his tribe. Vae victis !
Senator Frank Hiscock, then a member of the Lower
House, was in his third term of office. He was always
accompanied by his wife, and they lived in the first floor of
the Arlington Hotel, in the suite of rooms formerly occupied
by Charles Sumner, the famous Massachusetts Senator, of
whom Longfellow said:
" Like Winkelried, he took
Into his manly breast
The sheaf of hostile spears, and broke
A path for the oppressed."
Mrs. Hiscock is a true woman, one of those whom pros
perity does not affect. I do not think she loves political life
for its own sake, but her devotion to her husband keeps her
by his side, whether in -war or peace. !• always noticed that
she was singularly free from the pushing social ambition of
many Washington women. The lucky star of Frank
Hiscock shines conspicuously in his marriage. Arthur was
always violently opposed to him, and I remember that, just
after he was inaugurated Vice-President, he asked me to tell
him about some of those I specially admired in Washington.
I answered that I had as yet seen no one to compare with
those who represented our own state, and I spoke of Mr.
Hiscock, then of Mr. Camp, General McCook and the rest.
" WeU," said he, " I do not like or trust Hiscock, and you
must not believe in his sincerity." I told him he could never
convince Mr. Crowley of that, as he specially admired him.
He also quoted Mr. Conkling as having the same opinion,
hut I myself never heard Mr. Conkling say anything against

THE ARLINGTON. 239
Mr. Hiscock. That this hostile feeling continued all through
Arthur's administration, I know well, though just at the last,
when he began to think of the Chicago Convention, where
he fully hoped to be nominated, he took the names of the
Senators and Representatives alphabetically and invited them
to dine at the White House. It was surprising to see how
this changed the view of some of the statesmen at the Arling
ton Hotel. A bit of pasteboard worked such magic! All
this was said to have afforded much secret amusement to
Arthur and his intimate blue-blooded satellites. At that very
time we received urgent appeals to come and talk matters
over, and accept the hospitalities of the Nation's Mansion,
which Arthur thought he owned, but did not exhibit them on
the table of the hotel dining-room as some of the flattered
recipients surprised us by doing.
Early in that session took place quite an interesting contest
for the Speakership of the House of -Representatives. Mr.
Hiscock was the candidate from the East, Mr. Warren J.
Keifer, of Ohio, from the West. I believe that Congress
men Reed and Kasson were also candidates. I remember,
when the war had fairly begun, that President Arthur sent
for Mr. Crowley, and told him that he did not wish to have
Hiscock elected Speaker, as he both disliked and disapproved
of him, and that he thought he would be a very dangerous
man to place in power. Mr. Crowley replied that he, on the
contrary, thought it would be good politics for the New
York delegation to support Mr. Hiscock ; that it might tend
to heal political divisions and unify the New York delegation
in support of the administration. Mr. Arthur was very much
annoyed at Mr. Crowley's refusal to oppose his colleague.
Ex-Senator Thomas C. Piatt came over at that time from
New York to Washington specially to oppose the election of
Mr. Hiscock as Speaker. He also labored long and earn
estly with Mr. Crowley, but in vain. All his persuasions
could not induce Richard to be aught but himself in this
matter, as in all others, true to the man he then believed to be
his friend. Mr. Keifer vvas elected, however, and in the
selection of committees Mr. Crowley received one not at all to
his taste, while Mr. Hiscock, as a matter of courtesy, received
a desirable one. There has, up to the present time, been no
break in his success. He seemed to meet with no jealousy or
opposition in his district, and was continually sent to Con
gress until his election to the Senate two years ago. A life-

240 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
path without obstacles and thorns must be very charming.
In such cases the only regret must be its inevitable brevity.
Gen. Ansoii G. McCook, of New York, is one of the noblest
representatives our Empire State ever produced. A heroic
and generous nature is stamped upon his face. To know
him is to admire him ; to mention his name is the signal for
praises sounded. Born of a race of heroes, the "fighting
McCooks " of the West, whose blood has helped to wash
aw.iy the dark stain of slavery, his private life is a proof of
the truth of what Bayard Taylor asserts that,
" The bravest are the tenderest.
The loving are the daring."
Seldom has one so good and deserving been so well rewarded,
for now he is the honored and beloved Secretary of the
Senate, meeting every day his dear old-time comrades,
Hiscock and Aldrich, and hosts of others. At the time I
speak of, he was a bachelor, and his inseparable companion
was Congressman Amos Townsend, of Cleveland, Ohio, a
very amiable and popular gentleman. Now he is -wedded to
a charming woman, whose graces of mind and person have
proved the open sesame to the most exclusive circles of
Washington society. A beautiful boy was sent to bless this
auspicious union, and the hero, like Hector, having doffed
his battle-plumes, was just beginning to enjoy his ne-w
treasure when, alas! the child, so briefly lent, was called
away, back again with the angels, leaving but a lovely
memory ! If the kind wishes of hosts of friends could con
sole, then would these wounds cease to ache, but a more than
earthly power is needed. Nothing ever compensates for such
a grief as the loss of the first-born. When I last met them
in New York I saw, with the eye of sympathetic friendship,
that the blow had left an impression -which even Time, the
great consoler, never could efface. Sic itur ad astra !
Congressman John H. Camp, of Lyons, and his interesting
wife were great additions to the Arlington circle. Mr.
Camp is a very brilliant man in all ways, and a most attract
ive conversationalist. Nelson W. Aldrich, of Rhode Island,
then first elected Senator, was one of that dazzling coterie,
and frequently a guest there. He is a remarkably handsome
man and a great favorite in political and social life. He has,
in my opinion, a perfect treasure of a wife, and they are both
unspoiled by the sunshine of success which is showered upon

THE ARLINGTON. 241
them unceasingly. No one, however unhappy, could envy
them or help wishing them a continuance of Fortune's
favors. Never in all my experience have I met a more
devoted mother than Mrs, Aldrich, Her sympathy and
charity are lovely and noted traits in her character.
Our esteemed friend, Vice-President Morton, was at that
time Minister to France. He is so thoroughly good and
such a truly chivalric gentleman, that no one who has the
privilege of his friendship can envy him the royal road paved
with gold through which his way has led to the pinnacle of
well-won greatness. General Belknap, who was Secretary
of War with General Grant, lived at the Arlington, and that
winter his wife ,who had lived in Paris for some time attend
ing to the education of her daughter, made a visit to
Washington for the first time since she reigned so brilliantly
there as a social queen. I was much fascinated by her
charming manners, and pronounced her at once very beauti
ful. She is one of the prominent examples of the evil
results of the jealousy of woi-nen for one another. Those
who flattered and fawned around her in palmy days took a
fiendish delight in swelling the loud hisses of scorn which
resulted in her exile. But one so lovely must find friends
wherever she goes, and, after all, she has had no small share
of the feasts of life's ever-changing banquet. General
Belknap, by his quiet, manly bearing commanded the respect
of every one. He was much liked by the men in public
life, who are broad-minded enough to understand that
misfortune may attack any one, and that distinction invites
detraction and defamation. The most desirable condition of
life, next to that of wealth, is to be common-place; next to
money, mediocrity! Brilliant intellect in men, and great
beauty in women, alike exact a heavy penalty. It is pro
verbial that plain women are the happiest, from Elizabeth
to the peasant. The most distinguished men in history,
soldiers, poets and philosophers, have preferred unattractive
women as wives. The Greek philosophers had a special
term for the proper allowance of beauty in marriage. They
advised their youths not to select handsome women. Ben
jamin Franklin is said to have frequently given the same
advice to young friends. Helen and Cleopatra certainly did
make a vast amount of trouble in their day. But, whether
fortunately or unfortunately, beauty in excess is so rare that,
when it appears, no rules can be applied to chain its influence

242 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
for weal or woe. I have often wondered why ugly women
so envied the beautiful, for they possess all the lovely ones do
not. They obtain generally the best husbands and the
kindest attentions through life; are perfectly secure from
malice of their own sex, which follows in the wake of
beauty like the trail of the serpent, and they can always turn
their lovers, husbands and brothers against a perfect Venus;
and yet they are not happy! There must be something in
the thrill of admiration which passes through the crowd
when Beauty appears upon the scene, something in the fierce
curiosity to see a celebrated face, that in their eyes is worth
all the solid comforts of life. By the same token, no woman
who possesses the fatal gift would part with it for any
earthly consideration. Though she knows she must be per
secuted, that every action will be purposely distorted, that
every word which falls from her lips will be repeated to
her harm, that she can have none of the ordinary privileges
which the majority of her sex enjoy, that she will forever
be misunderstood, yet she would not exchange her thorny
path, where she is at the mercy of the tempests of jealousy,
for the gilded shelter of the most favored among the
unnoticeable! Sweet to such women are the triumphs,
though fleeting, which give them the conciousness that these
dutiful husbands, now at their -wives' behest turning the cold
shoulder to the unfortunate fair, have had moments of mad
ness when they would have given home, honor and all for
their smiles! These things prevent them from envying the
other women in their security, and they are often, indeed
generally, too generous to disturb them in their blissful
ignorance. Thus to some lives hours are given in which
the bliss of years is condensed, and to others the little things
which make up the sum of each day's happiness.
Among the visitors who thronged the hotel that season
were the family of the Hon. Bleecker Banks, of Albany,
formerly State Senator cotemporary with my husband.
He found, as always, many friends who gladly welcomed him.
Mrs. Banks is a delightful woman, and I observed that,
though in the intervening years since we had met there had
been much illness in her family, trials had but broadened her
character, and her early vivacity remained the same. On
her visit to me she was accompanied by the beautiful Miss
Van Vechten, of Albany. Rarely have I seen a face I
admired as much as hers. She is a women of the type one

THE ARLINGTON. 243
imagines the goddess Juno might have been, and if so, then
Jupiter had never left the skies in search of earth-born
nymphs, and the hundred eyes of Argus might not have
been employed to their own destruction. We have not met
since, but her picture is one that does not fade from the mind.
It is strange how people that one meets for a moment will
sometimes make an impression deeper than many known
long and well. Henry 6. Davis, at that time Senator from
West Virginia, lived with his family in rooms closely adjoin
ing ours. What delightful neighbors they were! How
they are woven into some of my brightest and saddest
memories! Life seems to be all cloudless for them ever since
we parted, and I wish that it may long continue so. They
had been many years in Washington and were generally
beloved. Their daughter, Kate, now Mrs. Brown, was a
general favorite. Their eldest daughter married Mr. Stephen
Elkins. I met her later on, when she was visiting them, and.
found that she justified all the fond encomiums of her
mother. She is very handsome and accomplished and not in
the least spoiled by admiration. I should imagine her to be
a delightful companion, and my short acquaintance with her
convinced me that she is entirely free from the petty jealous
ies which often infest the characters of the fortunate ones in
this world. Her husband is widely known as a successful
business man and a prominent politician. The family of
Gen, Benjamin Harrison, our new President, were very
intimate with that of Senator Davis, I was constantly hear
ing of "Mame" Harrison and "Mame" Saunders, now Mrs,
McKee and Mrs. Russell Harrison. My daughters, Maud
and Alice, though then very young, became interested in
them through Kate Davis. I remember one day, in discuss
ing them, it was predicted by one of the girls that Senator
Harrison would one day be President, as history was con
tinually repeating itself. And so it has, for Benjamin Har
rison to-day stands where his grandsire stood,
" Who ascended Fame's ladder so high,
From the round at the top he but stepped to the sky."
Senator James Grahame Fair, of San Francisco, was con
spicuous among the noted guests of the Arlington at that
time. His manner, though unassuming, denotes such a
reserve of power that, if one had heard nothing of his roman-

244 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
tic history, a great interest would he felt in him at once.
He is one of the Bonanza Kings, the celebrated Mackay,
Flood and O'Brien having shared with him the discovery of
the famous Comstock mine. He gave superb dinners that
year, and long before I met him, being at that time confined
to my rooms, he showed his natural goodness of heart by
sending me some of the lovely flowers which graced the
banquet board at which I was unable to be a guest. His
kindness to my children, especially my angel Maud, I shall
never forget. Having heard of our friendship with General
Arthur, he invited Maud and Alice to a dinner-party given for
the President. Maud was then but sixteen, and a perfect dream
of loveliness. It -was a magnificent affair. Arthur came,
with all the Cabinet officers and their wives. There were
also present the Vice-President, David Davis, and his wife,
Mr. and Mrs. Justice Field, of California, Senator and Mrs.
Jones, of Nevada, and Mr. and Mrs. John Davis, the latter
being a daughter of Secretary Frelinghuysen. This was
but one of the many kind things he did, and it made a great
impression on me in regard to his character, for every mother
knows full well how courtesy and generosity to children is
remembered and appreciated. Senator Charles B. Farwell,
of Illinois, was then one of the guests of Mr. Roessle, as
Representative from Chicago. Mr. Crowley at once felt a
great liking and admiration for him. He is conceded to
possess very marked ability, both in the commercial and
political world. He was accompanied by his wife and
daughter Anna, now Mrs. Reginald De Koven. The latter has
both beauty and talent and was very much admired and
sought after in Washington society. My Maud was fondly
attached to her. Congressman J. Floyd King, of Louisiana,
was then one of the most popular and agreeable of the guests.
He had been a general in the Confederate army, and was
noticeable at once for his resemblance to the portraits of
Jerome Bonaparte, brother of the great Napoleon. He is a
gentleman of very distinguished address and possesses fine
conversational powers. I shall always cherish pleasant recol
lections of his courtesy.
As I recall the interesting family of Congressman
Jeremiah W. Dwight, who were that season domi
ciled with us at the hotel, I must note the fact that he,
like many other friends, has since entered into eternal rest.
He was generally beloved, as, indeed, were all his people.

THE ARLINGTON. 245
They made a great many friends and deserved them well.
Representative and Mrs. Lewis Beach, with their daughters,
I also pleasantly remember. Mrs. Beach is a remarkably
pretty and amiable woman, and we all grew much attached
to her. I believe, since then, the young ladies have all mar
ried. Lewis Beach, a few years since received the reward
of the just, after a life well spent. These are two instances
of the changes wrought by the great reaper. Death, in a
comparatively short space of time. But we hope. for a bright
reunion some day. The Hon. Martin Maginnis, the Dele
gate from Montana, was stopping at the Arlington with his
wife. They were a very popular and sociable pair. Mrs.
Ross, the widow of a popular southern officer, had been liv
ing there for several seasons, with her two lovely daughters,
Sallie and Tuberose. There were the daughters of Repre
sentative Ranne}-, of Boston, who, in addition to caring most
tenderly for an invalid mother, fulfilled all their social duties
perfectly. Mrs. Ranney is the sister of an old friend of the
New York State Senate days, Mr. Rufus Andrews. Mr.
Ranney I always thought a very distinguished looking man.
Senator J. N. Camden, of West Virginia, with his wife and
daughter, are closely connected with the recollections of that
time. Annie Camden has gentle and winning manners and
was much admired. I believe she has since married an
officer in the regular army. Speaking of the army, I must
not forget the well-known General Rufus Ingalls, then Quar
ter-Master-General of the Army, and since retired. In his
attentions to ladies he is the very soul of courtesy and gal
lantry, and to children he is simply irresistible, though him
self a bachelor. My son, Harold, then eight years of age,
said soon after meeting him : " I've got the best friend in
the world now." And Mr. Crowley was always enthusias
tic about his delightful qualities as a companion.
Mrs. Crook, the wife of the famous Indian fighter. Gen
eral Crook, also gladdened the house with her bright spirit
and kind attentions. Representative William Moore, of
Tennessee, was also there with his pretty wife. He is a
most courteous and agreeable gentleman. Mrs. Moore was
well fitted to shine in the gay receptions of the Capital.
Miss Marie Roessle, the daughter of the host, was one of the
most beautiful girls in Washington. She is now married and
living in New York City, while her brother presides over
the Delavan House in Albany, the scene of our earlier exper-

246 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
ience. Like his father, he is a gentleman par excellence,
though more reserved in manner. He married, some years
ago. Miss Hatch, a charming New York belle. The cele
brated chemist. Prof. Ogden Doremus, spent some, time
there with his handsome wife and his pretty and accom
plished daughter. They had been old friends of Arthur's
wife, but I have reason to suspect that they were not received
with the warmth of cordiality which might have been dreamed
of by the romance-writers, who pictured Arthur as a weep
ing widower. Mr. Hanscom, a brilliant young newspaper
reporter, was a great addition to the society at the hotel.
He is an exceedingly well-informed man and a very gifted
writer. What bright Bohemian band he may have joined
since then I know not.
At six o'clock on the morning of the 17th of April there
appeared on the register of the Arlington, amid all the
distinguished names, a new arrival. Dr. D. W. Bliss, our
dear and accomplished physician, knowing our old and inti
mate friendship for the President, wrote down the name as
Chester A. Crowley. It was another instance of how history
is repeated. When our eldest son was born, we received a
most urgent request that he should be named after General
Arthur, to whom we. were all then devotedly attached. But
since those days a change had come. The child was called
Donald. He received the most flattering attentions. First,
from all the waiters at the hotel, who paid their respects to
him at once, and predicted a bright career, as he was born on
their Emancipation Day. And then our valued friend and
fellow-Congressman, the Hon. John Van Voorhis, of
Rochester, with the fellow-feeling which only the father of a
large family himself can possess, immediately bethought him
self of a scheme wherewith to mark the event. He consulted
with the New York members of the House, and they all
contributed to present to the infant a beautiful table service
of silver for his own special use. Little Donald is now in his
seventh year, and already shows his appreciation of the fact
that he was thus early honored by the distinguished co-
temporaries of his father. The silver I shall preserve as a
treasured heirloom, and if he should live to be a Congressman
himself some day, the coincidence will be a memorable and
pleasant thing. In connection with this kind attention I have
also faithfully treasured for him some precious souvenirs.
One is the original paper signed by the members and thought-

THE ARLINGTON. 247
fully kept for us by Mr. Van Voorhis. It contains the
following names : " The undersigned agree to the purchase
of a suitable present from the New York delegation in the
House of Representatives to the youngest son of our honored
colleague, Hon. Richard Crowley, born at six o'clock this
morning. John Van Voorhis, R. P. Flower,
Walter A.' Wood, George West,
J. W. Wadsworth, A. X. Parker,
D. P. Richardson, Lewis Beach,
Chas. R. Skinner, C. D. Prescott,
S- S. Cox, W. Hutchins,
John H. Camp, John Hammond,
W. E. Robinson, F. Jacobs, Jr.,
Anson G. McCook, J. H. Ketcham,
P. Henry Dugro, Jonathan Scoville,
John Hardy, J. Hyatt Smith,
A. S. Hewitt, Frank Hiscock,
Perry Belmont, H. Van Aernam,
J. W. Dwight, J. Mason."
M. N. Nolan,
The other memento is a letter from the celebrated Samuel
Sullivan Cox, so many years one of the most brilliant leaders
on the Democratic side of the House. Knowing that every
thing which ever fell from the tongue or the pen of this
accomplished and admired gentleman is as eagerly sought for
as were the pearls and diamonds that dropped from the lips
of the Princess in the fairy tale, I here quote it entire :
Washington, April, 1882.
Dear Mr. Crowley: — It is the pride of our country that the census shows
an unexampled increase of population It is the pride of the New York
Delegation that New York has nobly contributed her share to the increase.
It is a matter of regretful solicitude that the last addition to your family was
not born in time to be counted in the ratios for representation under the
recent census. This regret, however, has its solaces. It is a boy and may
some time, like his father, represent in himself some one hundred and fifty
thousand people. A noble contribution this to our National greatness ! Un
der the circumstances, it would be gross dereliction if we failed to recognize,
by suitable testimonials, the birth and existence of this statesman \n future.
While some of us are monometalists and prefer gold as the standard, yet, for
the purpose of signalizing the advent of your infant son, we have given up
our prejudices and resolved that silver, the old .while coin of the fathers,
was a proper medium in which to enshrine our devotion to the cause of
human multiplication. In referring to multiplication, we are instructed to
say that there is no division of parties on this auspicious event. Thirty-
two members unite in making their congratulations to mother, father
and son, trusting that when the latter cuts his teeth upon the

248 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
pearly toy, and sounds his whistle in the nursery, and drinks his
Iactea diet from the argentiferous cup which we present, he may
in his nebulous meditations on mundane affairs regard the good will ot
his father's colleagues as a pearl of £,reat price, and the shrill call of the
whistle as a summons to duty, and the cup as a vessel of honor, dedicated
to the rights of hospitality with which we welcome the little stranger into
this world of vicissitudes. In behalf of New York Delegation we are
M. N. Nolan, 1
R. P. Flower, \ Committee.
John Van Voorhis, )
I have also an album, which contains the names of all the
Senators and Congressmen of that year, and apropos of the
troubled time in which it was -written, there are also words in
the book addressed to me by Roscoe Conkling. I think they
express very clearly his state of mind at that epoch of the
history he had certainly contributed extensively in making.
A great deal of meaning can be conveyed in a sentence, and
epigrams have often condensed long stories:
To Mrs. Richard Crowley: — True friends stand; stand when clouds pass
over ; stand though appearances would belie motives and acts ; stand even
when it seems profitable or politic to couple oblivion of friends with
forgiveness of enemies.
In token of such friendship, I am Yours, Roscoe Conkling.
Not long after, when young Alan Arthur -was at our
rooms, I asked him to write in this book. It was before our
final break with them. He proposed taking it to the White
House, so that his father might write in it also, to which I
agreed, suspecting, however, that the President, having a
consciousness of guilt, would feel the arrow pointed at him
self. I was right in my conjecture, and I received the next
day a sumtnons to the White House, to which I did not
respond. At a later interview in New York City, when he
went home on a brief vacation, he admitted to me that he
understood Mr. Conkling instantly, and at once proceeded to
defend himself from the double charge. But there it stands,
" oblivion of friends and forgiveness of enemies," and in this
brief sentence may be read the cause of the defeat and death
of Chester Arthur. At this time he stood on the topmost
pinnacle of ambition. He seemed in the very flush of manhood's
prime, surrounded by a monarch's pomp and power. His
ears were dulled to all sounds save those of flattery, his brain

SENATOR ROSCOE CONKLING. 249
stupefied with the incense burned so ceaselessly before him,
but, at this very height, at the acme of luxury, which ever
precedes a fall, the dread whisper of Fate might have been
heard by the prophetic ear, the lonely and forsaken death
bed, the burial without one real mourner, might have been
seen by the prophetic eye! Well had it been for him if, like
the old Roman king, some slave at his chariot-wheel had
daily warned him with the words: " Remember that thou
art mortal."
At this time, Maud, my beautiful, was sixteen. No fairer
rose ever bloomed, no more radiant star of promise ever
dawned on earth! In the divine pleasure I felt in her
loveliness and the worshiping devotion I bore to her is
expressed to me all that has been dreamed of Heaven. But
ever there was a boding dread that I could not drive away,
though then she looked as fresh as the morning, and the hand
of the death angel even then clasping her was concealed.
Oh, to see her once more as she was in that spring time of
1882! "Oh, God, roll back the universe and give me
yesterday !"

CHAPTER IX.
Senator Roscoe Conkling.

" And as I lift again the chain and cross.
The bright beads seem a wreath of golden days.
Ended too soon by black and bitter loss,
Made gloomier still by their contrasting rays."
As in Rome the devotees have dark beads for rosaries,
which they call "Job's tears," the fancy occurs to me that
this chapter of memories might be likened to a rosary strung
alternately of these sad drops and pearls of poetry, as they
fell from lips now sealed. The familiar lines have a special
charm when spoken by an eloquent voice, and thus the beads
of woe were woven into prayer with the beads of song. As
Protestants often wander into Catholic churches, to soothe
with the incense and the heavenly music the sense of pain, so
perhaps some, who do not love poetry as I do, will take for
a moment in their hands this special rosary. In Memoriam.
For the voice of Roscoe Conkling will be heard no more.

2SO ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
and the echoes of those golden notes will be forever sweet
and clear, ' ' Though now far off, so far as but to seem
Like the faint, exquisite music of a dream."
All that lovely summer of 1882, how could I know that the
cold spectre of a mighty sorrow was hovering over us? In
June, Maud went to Saratoga with a party of friends to at
tend the convention in which Secretary Folger was nomi
nated for Governor, and a little later she went to Long
Branch, and then in the early autumn we -went to New York
together, for the last time. There the first blow fell, for,
though she was in the happiest spirits and in appearance per
fectly well, she had a slight cough, which first roused my
alarm, having through early experience recognized it as a
death-knell, and then one day upon her handkerchief ap
peared a single spot, the fatal signal of the dreaded malady,
hereditary consumption! We at once consulted Dr. Gold-
thwaite, and he told us Maud could not stay at Lockport any
more in the cold weather, and must be careful in all ways, as
there was evidently great danger that she had inherited the
tendency to pulmonary disease. His words were like thun
derbolts from a clear sky, yet, though they terrified me, I
could not fully believe them. Why is it that we cling so
firmly to the very shadows of hope, against reason, when oiir
hearts are involved ? From that moment, during the twenty
months that elapsed before she left us, I seemed to lead a two
fold existence; the one on the surface, hopeful, energetic,
resolutely shutting out the slightest discouragement; but
beneath there ran the dark current of deadly fear. Every
breath was haunted with an apprehension, every impulse
merged into the one hope, to save! I seemed to fancy that,
by resistance, by surrounding her with friends and banishing
everything suggestive of illness, I could elude the cruel power
that threatened to snatch her from me. Maud was so happy
in the brief bright days we spent at the Fifth Avenue Hotel,
and in her subsequent travels so often spoke of it as being the
loveliest place in the world to stay ! I often now wonder,
when I tread its celebrated halls, if it contains such memories
for any one in this world as it does for me, even among all
the historic and brilliant figures that have sojourned beneath
its hospitable roof! It is the place of all others to meet the
busy, or the ambitious ones of this world. What genius.

SENATOR ROSCOE CONKLING. 251
what beauty and what splendor have assembled there. The
tall marble clock solemnly marks the passing hours in the
great hall, while fortunes wax and wane, and youth and
beauty die, for the changing multitude who pass it on their
appointed way! I spoke of this fancy one day to Senator
Conkling, and he replied that we ought to have enough
philosophy in this short life to allow the dial of memory to
note but the happy hours, as the romances tell in the ancient
gardens, this inscription was always engraven on the sun
dial: "I mark only the sunny hours." I reminded him that
his favorite poet, Byron, who died at the early age of thirty-
six, had written thus at twenty-one :
" Did man compute
Existence by enjoyment, and count o'er
Such hours 'gainst years of life, say, would he name threescore?"
Dull, indeed, must be the mind that long looks for happiness
here, where our dearest hopes are surely blighted, and where,
even with the cup of success at our lips, we dare not boast of
to-ddy, for what man can be sure of to-morrow ? So it was,
as I said, a fancy of mine as the noted statesmen passed by
the clock of the Fifth Avenue Hotel hall, which seemed to
note all things, and wear on its marble face a conscious and
prophetic expression, to wonder what change of fate awaited
some who seemed, by the air with which they moved on, to
defy the possibility of misfortune or disaster; to ponder on
what punishment lurked in ambush for those who watched
with cruel smile and unpitying eyes the sad faces of the
unhappy, who listened with wholly unsympathetic ears to the
doleful tale of those less lucky, though not less deserving
than themselves. For in both ancient and modern history
"the whirligig of time" brings its revenges. After the
French Revolution, when the guillotine had drunk the blood
of the nobility, it finally despatched both judges and execu
tioners. Injustice must, in the eternal fitness of things, be
expiated, somehow, somewhere. Maud was so radiantly
lovely that I thought, at that especial time, she must have
resembled Mary Stuart in those early days in France, when
her beauty was so transcendent that a peasant woman, on
seeing her in a triumphal procession at some religious cere
mony, exclaimed: "Are you not an angel?" Such great
beauty always seems to bring sorrow in its train, for there is

252 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
no doubt that the Queen of Scots suffered all her persecution
solely on account of her great personal charms, and perished
a victim to woman's jealousy. Even great men are some
times jealous of beautiful women, for it is related of Napoleon
that, on returning from some famous victory, he was enraged
to observe, as he entered the theater, that all eyes were
directed to the lovely Madame Recamier, instead of upon
him. He promptly avenged himself upon her, as he did
later upon Madame de Stael, by sending her into exile. Let
those who do not believe that great men are envious of great
women note this fact of the jealousy of the victorious
Emperor for two celebrated women, Madame Recamier for
her beauty and Madame de Stael for her genius. I believe
this egotism accounts quite frequently for the apparently
incongruous matches made by brilliant men, which are often
erroneously attributed to the impulses of uncultivated youth.
I do not see how any one, who has long observed and reflected
upon the ways of mankind, can believe the ancient myth of
man's chivalry towards beauty, whether in distress or other
wise. I think they are quite as spiteful concerning it as other
women are, and often much more so. Perfection of any kind
arouses more hatred than love. A great many people, if asked
to tell -why they persecute others, would, if they spoke
truthfully, be compelled to reply as the countryman did to
Aristides, who, when he saw him writing his name upon the
shell that he might be ostracized, asked, " Did Aristides ever
harm you?" "Oh, no!" was the answer, "but I am weary
of hearing him called 'the Just'." Once, among the sight
seers at the Capitol in Washington, I heard one young girl
say to another, as they were criticising the different statues
which adorn the Rotunda: " I hate Vinnie Ream." " Why,"
said her companion, "do you know her?" "Oh, no!" she
replied, " but I am so sick of seeing her name in the papers."
Thus, slight cause is often sufficient to raise an army of
enemies. ' ' Of this small horn one feeble blast
Will fearful odds against us cast."
Senator Conkling lived then at the Fifth Avenue Hotel,
and Maud and I had delightful talks with him almost
every day. He could say such exquisite things ; for instance,
once when we were very late, and the dining-room thronged,
Mr. Conkling turned to Maud and said: "Come with me.

SENATOR ROSCOE CONKLING. 253
not, ' into the garden, Maud,' but into this crowded room. I
have been very much out of fashion of late, but with you by
my side, the world will look at me once more." Like
Tennyson's sweetest of heroines, my Maud was "but seven
teen, and tall and stately," and these words from a great man
pleased her very much. In those happy hours spent there
with Mr. Conkling, when we met daily in the halls and
dining-room, there was an opportunity for explanations, and
the bitterness w^hich had lingered in my heart since the Sen
atorial contest, when I thought he should have helped Mr.
Crowley instead of Mr. Piatt, passed away. Yes, his kind
ness to Maud healed the wound, and I can to-day place my
hand upon his grave and say that I hope to meet him again
in another and a better world, I had found occasion to com
pare other friends with him, and before the treachery, ingrat
itude and deceit which I met in some most unexpected
quarters, his conduct stood in a new light, and I began to
see some of the motives which actuated him that I had
previously not fully understood. It was no small consolation
to kjiow that, in the few months which had elapsed since the
general shipwreck, he had already found serious occasion to
regret his course at that time, and had come to feel a pro
found indifference for those he had most favorably treated
in the affair. For instance, he had so entirely severed all
relations between himself and Thomas C. Piatt that he was
not even on speaking terms with him. Never, among all my
friends, did T find one with such fine poetic taste as Mr.
Conkling. His views on two subjects were precisely the
same that I had held all my life. One was that Mary Stuart
was a martyr, and Elizabeth a fiend, and the other that Lord
Byron was the greatest genius that ever lived. One day he
wrote for Maud a lovely bit of verse " for a young lady's
album," She inquired if it was original, and he replied, " Ah,
no one could have written that save Byron,"
"As o'er the cold sepulchral stone,
Some name arrests the passer-by,
Thus, when thou view'st this page alone.
May mine attract thy pensive eye ;
And when by thee that name is read.
Perchance in some succeeding year.
Reflect on me as on the dead,
And think my heart is buried here."
Alas! The great statesman and the beautiful girl are both
now numbered with the dead !

254 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
"The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave.
Await alike the inevitable hour;
The path of glory leads but to the grave."
These were the lines read by General Wolfe on the night
before he stormed the heights of Quebec, when he turned to
his comrades and said he would rather be the "author of
Gray's Elegy than the conqueror of Quebec, A somewhat
similar remark was made by Mr. Conkling on one occasion,
after reciting Mrs. Alexander's poem, " The Burial of
Moses." He agreed with me that the following was the finest
stanza of all: "And had he not high honor.
The hillside for a pall?
To lie in state while angels wait
With stars for tapers tall?
And the dark rock-pines, with tossing plumes
Over his bier to wave,
And God's own hand, in that lonely land.
To lay him in his grave."
He said he would rather have written that than any short
poem of modern times. He was also specially fond of " The
Song of the Dying," by Captain Dowling, one of a number
of British officers who were in India during a terrible plague,
from which they could not hope to escape. It is a superb
inspiration and I give here the last verse, which well ex
pressed the feelings of the desperate band of soldiers, so soon
to die in their youthful prime :
" Cut off from the land that bore us.
Betrayed by the land we find.
Where the brightest have gone before us,
An^ the dullest remain behind.
Stand, stand to your glasses steady,
' Tis all we have left to prize ;
A cup to the dead already,
And hurrah for the next that dies ! ' '
It was also a great favorite of General Logan's, the spirit of
reckless daring it breathes in every line being just suited to
his fiery and brilliant mind. I believe it is not very easy to
find it in print, but it is in the first volume of Mr. Ainsworth
R. Spofford's " Library of Choice Literature." This is a
truly^delightful collection of gems, both in prose and poetry.

SENATOR ROSCOE CONKLING. 255
Mr. Spofford is a never-failing oracle to those who wish to
find the author of a quotation which puzzles the brain to
recall, as often the most familiar lines will. Always at his
post in the Congressional Library in Washington, he offers
to the thirsty seeker for poetic love the bright waters of
Castaly, the fabled fountain of Parnassus, long sacred to the
tuneful Nine. I think his labors must be the most interesting
in the world.
Mr. Conkling, though he generally knew the author of a
chance quotation, was positively annoyed if he could not find
the name. He was never weary of discussing these three
great and absorbing themes. Napoleon's destiny, Mary Stuart's
life, and Byron's poetry. He always declared that the lovely
Scottish Queen was his first love, and that she still smiled at
him across three hundred years. In his boyish enthusiasm
he wrote her life, as he believed and understood it, and I
should think it would no-w prove to be of great interest.
After he had visited Westminister Abbey, he would describe
with raging eloquence the tombs in which the rival Queens
reposed side by side, or, as he expressed it, "that murderess
beside her lovely yictim." Napoleon he vastly admired,
deploring the fickleness of the French people, who one day
deified him, and the next spoke of him as the "base-born
Corsican Adventurer." The character of Josephine he did
not like at all, considering her a mere doll devoted to mil
linery — false and shallow. He agreed with me that Napole
on's first burial was the most fitting one, in that solitary and
rocky island so far away from the scenes of his great and
strange career. Who can read, without deep feeling, the
story of ho-w he looked when they broke the seal of the
coffins which so firmly bound the imperial form which once
enshrined that daring, mysterious and mighty soul? France,
doubtless, wished her greatest star even in death, the luster
of which had shone round all the wprld:
" The word goes round the ranks,
Resounds along the line ;
That word they give is, France !
The answer. Saint HeUne !
' Tis there, at midnight hour,
The grand review they say
Is by dead Caesar held,
In the Champs Elysees !"

256 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
These words were much admired by Senator Conkling, and
he was very fond, also, of that old ballad, the authorship of
which I can not recall, beginning:
"On a lone barren isle, where the wild roaring billows
Assail the stern rock, and the loud tempests rave,
The hero lies still, while the dew-drooping willows
Like fond weeping mourners hang over his grave.''
In Byron's magnificent description of Waterloo in " Childe
Harold," he specially loved the verse which told of how
Napoleon faced defeat:
"Yet well thy soul hath brook' d the turning tide,
With that untaught innate philosophy,
Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride,
Is gall and wormwood to an enemy.
When the whole host of hatred stood hard by.
To watch and mock thee shrinking, thou hast smiled
With a sedate ana all-enduring eye ;
When fortune fled her spoil' d and favorite child,
He stood unbow'd beneath the ills upon him piled."
These two lines from "The Corsair" he was very fond of
quoting : " What lost the world, and made a hero fly ?
The trembling tear in Cleopatra's eye."
Senator Conkling considered Ouida the genius of the age.
He quoted long passages from her novels, and said he would
greatly like to meet her and converse -with her. Once, in
talking of her, he said he had just finished " Wanda," and
had written to his wife that he thought this character was
perfect. I did not agree with him at all, though I am quite
as great an admirer of Ouida's genius, for Wanda seemed to
me to be cold and unfeeling, and to think altogether too
much of pride of birth., I think "Ariadne," " Princess Na-
praxine" and "Othmar" the best Ouida has written. To
read the works of this great writer gives one such a longing
for Rome. What inspiration she seems to breathe in that
divine air of Italy, and how the statues gleam, and the
moonlight smiles over the ivy-mantled ruins in the subtle
spell she weaves around one! I, too, would love to greet her.
Those remarkable actors, Mr. and Mrs. William Florence,
lived at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and Mr. Conkling, who
specially admired Mr. Florence in the part of Mr. Oppen-

SENATOR ROSCOE CONKLING. 257
heimer; in Dickens' "No Thoroughfare," took us to see him.
It is indeed a wonderful personation, and it was impossible
to recognize our old friend, the Hon. Bardwell Sloate, in
this queer foreign gentleman. When I first saw the Flor
ences in a social way, more than twenty years ago, they
were playing that same piece in New York for the first
time. We met at the house of the famous Barney Williams,
whose wife is the sister of Mrs. Florence, and the occasion
was one of the pleasantest dinner parties I ever attended.
Mr. and Mrs. Williams were near neighbors to Mrs. Thomas
Murphy, and they were members of the same church, St.
Stephens, of which the Rev. Edward McGlynn was then
their beloved pastor. I frequently met him at the Murphy's,
and his fine, intelligent face is still very distinct in my mind.
The pleasant little party was brought about in this way.
One evening we took a box for the " Fairy Circle," a very
pretty Irish piece the Williamses were then engaged in, and I
was so charmed with them that I expressed a wish to make
their acquaintance. On this being repeated to Mrs. Will
iams, she kindly gave this dinner-party, where I had the
pleasure of meeting the Florences, and many other glowing
lights of the drama, several of whom, including the genial
Barney himself, have made their final exit from the stage of
life, where they made so many warm friends, and where
they are still so sincerely regretted.
' ' Their gentle part it was to share
With all what made their spirits bright.
To cleave Life's shadows here and there.
And fleck its sober walks with light. ' '
I remember John Brougham, the poet-actor, was my com-'
panion at the table, and -what an eloquent talker he was!
And I also recollect how the whole circle mourned over
the recent death of James T. Brady, one of the most brilliant
Irish lawyers in America. His portrait hung upon the wall
surrounded by Ophelias and Hamletsinnumerable, by Joseph
Surfaces and Sir Peters, and hosts of those others we all
know so well. Mr. and Mrs, Florence are fine characters,
so deeply religious, and so truly charitable. However, it is
true that this can be generally said of the profession to
which they belong, and which they have so brightened and
adorned. In later years, at a time when Mr, Crowley and

2s8 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Mr. Folger were annoyed at some things that were occur
ring in Washington, I heard them say they would go to hear
the Florences, and that would drive away the blues for
awhile, at least. I think the play was " Facts, or the Little
Hatchet." The last time Maud saw Mr. Florence was in
the hall of the Fifth Avenue Hotel, on returning from the
theater with Mr. Conkling. Since then seven years have
passed, and for five of those years she has been in Paradise.
On a recent visit to Lockport he said, on seeing her picture,
"Ah, yes! it is that angel face!" I might have known it
could not stay. Such smiles are not of this life. We can
only wait patiently for the time
" When with the morn those angel faces smile.
Which we have loved long since, and lost awhile."
All the famous actors and singers Maud and I heard to
gether during that season are blended with her memory.
She was very anxious to see Mrs. Langtry, having heard so
much of her great beauty, and we saw her first in a box near
the stage on Salvini's opening night. Maud's glances were
divided between the great Italian, in his grand impersonation
of Othello, and the statuesque figure of the lovely English
Lily. And later we saw her as Rosalind, and Maud thought
her even more jDerfectly beautiful than her fame had heralded
her to be. She also admired her acting very much. We
heard Patti then for the first time, it was in " II Trovatore,"
and we both agreed that Owen Meredith's tribute to Mario
would apply to Patti; rather we would read it thus :
" Of all the operas that Verdi wrote.
The best to my taste is the Trovatore,
And Patti could soothe with an angel note -
The souls in Purgatory. "
The very last place to which we went then was the Bijou
Opera House. They played a charming little opera, called
" The Sorcerer." The plot turned on the mischief made by
a love-philter, which caused those who drank thereof to be
enamored of the first person met, thus giving rise to endless
mistakes and merriment, like the scenes depicted in Shakes
peare's "Midsummer Night's Dream," when the fairy queen
has dropped the juice of the magic flower into the sleeper's
eyes. The beautiful Lilian Russell was the star, and I

SENATOR ROSCOE CONKLING. 259
remember how delighted Maud was with her singing a
ballad written expressly for her, called "The Siher Line."
I never see the name of Lilian Russell now that I do not
think of the Silver Line since broken. It is a very common
error of judgment to expect perfection in the character and
disposition of pubfic men, especially in those of our own
times. The glamor of fancy which time throws over the
memory of great men often deludes us as to their real lives,
and beside this flattering distance, which lends such enchant
ment to our view, there is in most minds a shrinking from
candid criticism of those who have passed beyond this
mortal sphere. It is a question in my mind whether a little
consideration now and then for the feelings of the living,
who are striving to the best of their ability to please and
serve their country and their friends, would not evince quite
as much delicacy and thoughtf ulness. We torture our public
men in life with unjust censures, we look for more than
mortal patience, but when they die, we see nothing but the
good. Perhaps if a little of this forbearance were shown to
them while they were still with us, their lives might be
longer, as well as happier. The lover in one of Tennyson's
sweet ballads says:
" Come not, when I am dead.
To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave,
To trample round my fallen head.
And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save.
Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie.
Go by, go by ! "
So might the shade of Roscoe Conkling speak to those
who now profess to mourn his loss, and certainly must miss
his leadership. It is true that he made the mistake of often
rewarding the base and wounding and slighting his truest
friends; none knew this so well as he when it was all too late ;
but who of us does not make mistakes in this world ? Who
can look back over a period of even a few years and not
regret that his footsteps turned into the wrong path, or his
judgment was sometimes obscured, and his reason blinded ?
It is far easier to submit to the tyranny and bear with the
faults of a great man than to endure the same things from an
inferior person. When Elizabeth Patterson, the American
girl who married Jerome Bonaparte, was asked why she
could agree to the arbitrary terms imposed upon her by the

26o ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Emperor, while she could never forgive her recreant spouse,
she replied : " I would rather be suspended from the pinion
of an eagle than sheltered under the wing of a goose.
Shakespeare, the mighty magician of the mind, whose master
hand swept every chord of human feeling, when he enumer
ated all the bitter things endured on earth, touched upon
none sadder than "the spurns that patient merit of the
unworthy takes." This reflection is the last and the bitterest
drop in the cup presented to our fips by a mysterious destiny.
Yet that these wrongs are righted, here or elsewhere, one
cannot doubt, for otherwise this fair universe were a mighty
blunder. It has been very clearly demonstrated that the
retirement of Roscoe Conkling, at the time of Chester
Arthur's chance coming into power, scattered the hitherto
victorious forces of the Republican party in New York
State, and threw the reins of power, dropped in an angry
hour from the grasp of a successful leader, into the hands of
a number of selfish men, without any commanding intellect,
who relied upon money as their principal aid.
" Clan-Alpine's best were backward borne,
Where, where was Roderick then ?
One blast upon his bugle horn
Were worth a thousand men."
When Arthur, as President, had, by cold, deliberate and
systematic treachery, violated every promise and outraged
every sentiment of honor, a cowardly silence prevailed in the
ranks of those who had known him. Or, even if there were
some low mutterings, like the murmer that heralds a storm,
a few crumbs from his table silenced quickly the rebellious
tongues. These banquets were literally sub rosa, as the
kingly President was exceedingly wroth if it chanced to be
published that he entertained any one he had ever met before.
The ancients suspended a rose over their tables to impress
the necessity of silence upon their guests; nothing should
be told that was uttered "under the rose;" but it was told,
nevertheless, that not only the President himself, but some
of his guests, were absolutely speechless from the indulgence
of the wine they religiously prohibited in others. Intemper
ance is a terrible thing, to be sure! No one abhors it more
than I, but if it debars some from distinction, why is it
winked at and lied about in a Chief Magistrate? Conspicu
ous among all the cruelties and double-dealing of Arthur was

SENATOR ROSCOE CONKLING. 261
the affair of the Cantilever Bridge at Niagara, for which he
caused Mr. Crowley to be so unjustly censured. I was in
Washington all through that time, and the labor and the
care my husband expended on that matter I can never to this
day forget. It was a thing that could be done either by act
of Congress or by express permission of the President. The
following note concerning it from Mr. Depew shows this:
Grand Central Depot,
New York, February 2, 1883.
My Dear Crowley :—\io-*i \% Vne. Suspension Bridge matter getting on?
Could I do anything if I came to Washington? Would it be possible in the
interim to get an approval from the President without an Act? I ask this
question because the Canadian Charter says either the assent of Congress or
of the President. Yours truly,
Hon. Richard Crowley. Chauncey M. Depew.
It was introduced by Mr. Crowley to the House, but
failed to pass, as see these dates, of the 46th and 47th Con
gresses, December 16, 1881, January 24, 1882, and January 31,
1882. Here is a copy of the bill, and also one of the reports
from the committee:
47TH Congress — ist Session. H. R. 1140.
In the House of Representatives,
December 16, 1881.
Read twice, referred to the Committee on Commerce, and
ordered to be printed.
Mr. Crowley introduced the following bill:
A BILL
TO AUTHORIZE THE CONSTRUCTION AND MAINTENANCE
OF A RAILWAY BRIDGE ACROSS NIAGARA RIVER.
" Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives
of the United States of America in Congress assembled.
That any bridge and its appurtenances which shall be con
structed across the Niagara River, at or near the village or
town of Tonawanda, New York, to Canada, in pursuance of
the provisions of an act of the Legislature of the State of
New York entitled ' An act to incorporate the Niagara
Grand Island Bridge Company,' passed May twenty-second,
eighteen-hundred-and-seventy-four, or of any act or acts of

262 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
said legislature now in force amending the same, shall be law
ful structures, and shall be so held and taken, and are hereby
authorized to be constructed and maintained as provided by
said act and such amendments thereto, anything in any law
or laws of the United States to the contrary notwithstanding,
and such bridge shall be, and is hereby declared to be, an
established post-road for the mails of the United States; but
this act shall not be construed to authorize the construction
of any bridge which shall not permit the free navigation of
said river to substantially the same extent as would be enjoyed
under the provisions of said act and the amendments hereto
fore enacted and now in force. Provided, nevertheless. That
the location of any bridge, the construction of which is
hereby authorized, shall be north of the present International
Bridge across Niagara River. And provided, further. That
such bridge shall have two draws, one over the main channel
of the Niagara River on the west side of Grand Island, and
the other over the channel on the east side of Grand
Island, to be so constructed as not materially to impede the
navigation thereof; the piers of said bridge shall be parallel
to the current of said river.
" Sec. 2. That the plan and specifications, with the necessary
drawings of said bridge shall be submitted to the Secretary
of War for his approval, and until he approves the plan and
location of said bridge it shall not be commenced; and,
should any change be made in the plan of said bridge during
the progress of the work thereon, such changes shall be sub
jected to the approval of the Secretary of War, and all
changes in the construction of said bridge that may be
directed by Congress shall be made at the cost and expense
of the owners thereof. The said bridge, its approaches and
appurtenances shall be open to the common use and employ
ment of all railway companies desiring to use the same upon
equal terms, priveleges and conditions; and in case said
companies, or any of them, cannot agree with the persons or
corporation owning, leasing or having the control of the said
bridge its approaches and appurtenances, upon the terms, com
pensations, privileges and conditions for the use and enjoy
ment thereof, the Governor of the State of New York is
hereby authorized from time to time, upon the application of
any such company or companies, to appoint three com
missioners, who, or a majority of whom, after fifteen days
written notice of the time and place of meeting, shall

SENATOR ROSCOE CONKLING. 263
determine and fix the terms, compensation, privilege and
conditions aforesaid.
"Sec 3. That the right to alter, amend or repeal this act,
so as to prevent all material obstructions to the navigation of
said river, is hereby expressly reserved, and any change
needful to that end shall be made at the expense of said
railway and navigation company.
"The Committee on Commerce of the House of Represen
tatives, to whom was referred House Bill 1,140, entitled 'A
bill to authorize the construction and maintenance of a
railway bridge across the Niagara River,' have had the same
under consideration and have made amendments thereto,
and as amended believe it contains no objectionable features,
and if adopted as amended that it will fully guard the rights
of navigation on the river. The committee therefore report
back the same and recommend its passage as amended.
Dated April, 1882."
Oh, the weary days of waiting, with friends at home
impatient for the result, and believing that Mr. Crowley's
influence was all-powerful with his old-time friend! It is
true that, at first, when he told Arthur that he must be absent
some days, but feared to leave the House a moment, Arthur
assured him not to trouble himself in the least, as he would
beonly too happy to use his prerogative in the matter. Rely
ing on this promise, he trusted until the eleventh hour. The
Secretary of State, Mr. Frelinghuysen, advised the President
to grant the request. Attorney- General Brewster at the last
moment advised him to the contrary. And the President, '
notwithstanding his promise, declined to grant the authority.
Mr. Crowley thereupon and immediately wrote a letter re-
resigning his appointment as special counsel to try the South
Carohna election cases, and his Counselship to prosecute the
criminal cases growing out of the failure of the First National
Bank of Buffalo, turned his back upon the White House, and
never entered it again while Arthur' was President, and never
spoke to Chester Arthur afterwards. William H. Vander
bilt and many leading citizens of New York at once sent on
a petition begging the same thing to be done, but this, also,
was in vajn. President Arthur refused even to listen to the
proposition, declaring that the Cantilever Bridge matter had
already lost him the best friend he had in the world. Not
withstanding the President's refusal, within seTen months
the Cantilever Bridge was completed across the Niagara

264 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
River, just above the famous Suspension Bridge, and stands
the first, and I believe the only, structure of the kind in
America. The fact that this act of treachery placed JVIr,
Crowley at a great disadvantage in the eyes of his constitu
ents at home, who had sent him as the chosen representative
of their interests, did not enter into the consideration of
these high-minded statesmen at all. A bitter blow was
struck at the laborious life of a once dear friend, but whkt
mattered it? There were plenty newer friends around him,
with more money to pay for smiles and favors! In the
whole band of Republicans there were very few brave and
manly enough to stand by the m,an whom they knew
to be cruelly -wronged, Richard Crowley.
"For he, whom royal eyes disown,
When was his form to courtiers known? "
But now and then some fearless voice was heard, unsilenced
by craven fear or vain hope of reward, as in the following
true and heroic words from the Albany Argus: "Nor will
the Cheap-John policy of measuring citizen Crowley against
the magnitude of the executive office, and belittling him,
avail with informed and intelligent men. Mr. Crowley is an
abler man than Chester A. Arthur, and his superior in
respect to the fact that no charge of infidelity to the obliga
tions of friendship lies against him. Measured by what
nature has done for each, and by what each has done for
himself, and by what each has done for others, Mr. Crowley
is underrated, and Gener.il Arthur is complimented, when the
two are called peers."
When a friend, who has been dear and admired in spite
of faults and estrangement, puts on immortality, how fondly
we recall the last meeting, the words, perhaps carelessly
spoken, not knowing them to be the last. Especially was
this true of our final interview with Roscoe Conkling.
It was one of those meetings which chance or fate throws
in one's path, destined to be remembered long. My eldest
son, Richard, was with me, and, as he had always admired
the Senator very much, the conversation made a deep
impression on his mind, and the picture now takes a
sadder tone, since the death of this friend of early days. I
was glad to have my son hear the recitations and gems of
quotations which fell in an unceasing shower from the orator's

SENATOR ROSCOE CONKLING. 265
lips on that occasion. Oratory, as well as beauty, is a rare
thing, and causes much jealousy in this world. The divine
spark of Prometheus will forever dazzle and enchant man
kind. It was the only time we met after Maud's death, and
he spoke of his first visit to Lockport fifteen years before,
when Maud was but four years old. He remembered her
childish tact when he told her, jokingly, that he had come to
stay a long time, and he was afraid she would not like that
very well, but she replied: "Do you suppose I could feel so
about my papa's friend?" He spoke with earnest feeling
about how much those escaped who were blessed with early
death. But in him there was nothing to indicate that he was
fast nearing the eternal shore, that he was soon to join the
many old friends whose loss he dej)lored that evening. The
talk, which began with politics, drifted into poetry, and never
did I see him in a more brilliant mood. He repeated poem
after poem, with a voice of flute-like melody, and, strangely
enough, the very last one was Moore's " Evening Bells." The
melancholy cadence of his voice on the last lines will forever
linger in our ears :
" And so 'twill be when I am gone,
The tuneful peal shall still live on ;
Some other bard shall walk these dells.
And sing your praise, sweet Evening Bells ! "
But, though other bards may walk the dells, and other
forms sit in thy vacant place, we miss the music of thy
tongue, we miss thy majestic presence. Farewell, imperious,
and yet ardent friend, farewell! Peerless in our memory
now, bright as when we saw thee first and deemed thee every
inch a king! " Success incarnate, self-inspired, self-raised,
To that proud height whereat youth's fancy aimed,
Whom even those who doubted while they praised
Admired, e'en while they blamed.
Peace, lasting peace, that strife no more shall break,
With honor none may challenge; crown thee now
Wherever laid; not faction's self would shake
The laurel from thy brow."

266 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
CHAPTER X.
Santa Fe and Sierra Madre.
" I thought to find some healing clime
For her I loved; she found that shore,
That City, whose inhabitants
Are sick and sorrowful no more.
Life was so fair a thing to her,
I wept and pleaded for its stay ;
My wish was granted me, for, lo !
She hath eternal life to-day."
Early in the spring of 1883 we started for the West, hop
ing that entire change of air and scene might revive our
drooping flower. Leaving Lockport in the afternoon, the
next morning found us in Chicago. There we met some
old friends, the children of Mr. William Keep, who had
passed their early life in their native town of Lockport, but
had afterwards settled in Chicago, and Mr. Howard Heimer,
also for many years a resident of our town, and a personal
friend of Mr. Crowley's. Indeed, Howard is a man who
has easily made many friends all his life. He has all the ad
vantages of a handsome person and a very pleasant manner,
and with these he possesses a very kind and generous heart,
though whether he has found the latter an advantage may
be an open question. The most fortunate people I have
seen in this world were not swayed by the heart at all. We
stopped at the Grand Pacific Hotel, and there we found en
camped the first angels of our pilgrimage. General Logan and
Mrs. Logan. They were on their way to spend the summer
with their daughter, Mrs. Tucker, -whose husband, Maj. Will
iam Tucker, was stationed at Santa F^, New Mexico. That
city was also our destination then, for we had been assured by
physicians that the air was dry and invigorating. We had
not, during our comparatively short life in Washington, had
the opportunity to know the Logans so well as we after
wards did through this happy meeting. Their legions of
friends made this impossible, as well as the constant changes
in the people at the Capital. Men are elected to Congress
for one or perhaps two terms, while the Senators are elected
for six years. Then there are so many of the Senators' fatn-
ilies to visit that, unless under peculiar circumstances, the of
ficial acquaintance seldom ripens into absolute friendship.

SANTA FE. 267
But I was traveling with my two daughters, Maud and
Alice, Mr. Crowley having found it impossible at the last to
leave his business, and they saw at once that I was searching
for life for my child. That was enough. I shall find it
hard to tell of all their goodness to me in my trouble and
anxiety, and their tenderness and love for Maud, for when I
think of that time, and feel that I shall never more on this
earth behold the dear General, never hear his ringing
voice of welcome, never see him take my lovely Maud by
the hand and speak cheerful words of hope to her, tell her
what she must do to get well and strong again, I can only
weep and lament that the best of life has vanished, that there
is nothing worth striving for under the sun. The great, the
bright, the beautitul are gone; it is but the cold, dull and
cruel that stay on. Yet a little longer they may have the
power to persecute and to betray us, then we shall at last be
called to join our own.
Our friends in Chicago were very kind, Mr. Howard
Heimer and Mr. William Keep came to the station with us
to say good-bye, and as th^y were both such dear friends we
felt, on leaving them, that we were indeed seeing the last of
home. But the three days' travel which we so dreaded,
proved to be purely a delightful visit in the company of
General and Mrs. Logan. We had this wonderful pair all
to ourselves, and a rare privilege it was, and one fully appre
ciated by us. The General completely dropped the cares of
Camp and State, and seemed to feel as happy as a boy off for
a holiday. We had not then heard how finely he recited
from Shakespeare, and it was like having some noted actor
with us to hear those superb passages from "Hamlet," from
"Richard the Third," above all, from "Julius Caesar," especially
Mark Antony's oration over the dead body of his friend,
betrayed and stabbed by honorable men. He wore a scarlet
smoking-cap, which contrasted well with his jetty locks,
" Whose glossy black to shame might bring
The plumage of the raven's wing."
It was fascinating to hear him talk of men and events of the
present, of his confreres in the Senate. It was also pleasant
to hear him tell, Othello-like, of the dangers he had passed.
Maud was spell-bound, as the train halted at some vast plain,
to hear his description of how, when they crossed these plains
in early days, they would form circles with their wagons to

268 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
resist the Indian onslaughts, which might come in the dead
of night. The wild stories of the border times, as they fell
from his eloquent lips, were far more enchanting to his
listeners than if they had been read from any printed page.
We had with our party, on the way to Ne-w Mexico, Judge
Casey, of Santa F6, a devoted friend of the General, and we
liked him very much, and also his family, whom we met
later. At every station people crowded to meet General
Logan, and it was lovely to see his kind way of greeting his
many friends. We did not stop long enough at any one
place to get much of an idea as to its points of interest, on
our way to Santa F^. Mrs. Logan was reading to Maud,
Marion Crawford's " Doctor Isaacs," then just issued, and we
had a ^-ery interesting discussion on the subject of the cataleptic
trance. In this, Crawford's masterpiece, in my opinion, the
author fondly leans to the mystic spell of the occults and seers
of the Orient. And what subject could be of such deep fascina
tion to the profound thinker? Even the powers which they
assert to be not at all supernatural would be of vast service in
life's battles. And the promise, held out to those who live
pure and self-sacrificing lives, and hold as their only ambition a
deep thirst for knowledge, that they shall, while yet encum
bered with the veil of flesh, hold converse with the loved
spirits of those who have preceded them ; what reward could
be so sweet to one who felt life to be but a desert march, only
relieved by the welcome waving of the palm-branches, telling
of promised rest at last? Though the doctrine of the soul's
transmigration is to me the most hateful part of their religion,
yet there is a sense of justice in the belief that the tyrant of
the past is the beggar of to-day, and that to-day's oppressor
will be to morrow's victim. To-day he crushes, but to-mor
row he shall sue in vain!
In his anecdotes of the Senators, General Logan spoke of
the extreme coldness of Charles Sumner's manner. He
related that, on one occasion, he chanced to lay his hand on
the shoulder of Sumner, who immediately moved away and
looked at him with an icy stare. Such a man could never
be loved in life or regretted in death. It is a very absurd
notion that coldness is a necessary adjunct to greatness.
History fairly teems with proofs to the contrary. Large
hearts should go with large brains, and if they do not, the
success is never glorious, the fruits of victory are never half
so sweet. Cold, indeed, to the hero would be the laurel

SANTA FA 269
alone, were there no fair hands to twine with it the myrtle
and the rose. Unhappy lo\e has given to us our finest
poetry, the sonnets of Petrarch, the imm.ortal verse of Byron,
the sweet songs of Burns, and it was sad affliction which
inspired our own Longfellow, in his touching poem,
"Resignation:" " There is no flock, however watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there.
There is no fireside, howso'er defended,
But has one vacant chair."
My husband always said he hated to read this poem, even
years ago, before he knew what sorrow meant, that he felt
a secret thrill of fear, a foreboding at last realized. Now he
knows the meaning of the vacant place. Oh! none but a
parent can tell how it is always vacant, that the others, no
matter how many, have their own places, but can never for
one instant, fill that of the absent one. From Rachel, and
David, and King John down to the present time, the lament
is the same in every stricken heart.
When we came to Lamy Junction we were met by
Major Tucker and his wife and child, little Logan, the idol
of his grandparents. The Major is of the Saxon type of
beauty, and is one of the very handsomest men I ever saw.
On horseback one might fancy him to be a young Viking of
poetic legend, he looks so full of youthful fire and chivalry.
His wife, "Dolly" Logan, the General's only daughter, is a^
most distingue-looking and extremely fascinating woman.
She is spicy and piquant to a remarkable degree. In color
ing she resembles her distinguished sire, but she inherits also
some of her beautiful mother's finest points. When we
arrived at Santa F^ it was very cold, and we at once estab
lished ourselves in the pleasant rooms of the hotel. Directly
across the Plaza was the pretty cottage of Major Tucker, in
what was the settlement of the Officer's people. During
our stay in the city I had my previous flattering opinion of
Army society endorsed and verified. Never could one find
elsewhere such savoir-faire and culture combined with such
noble and disinterested kindness as among our soldiers and
their families. It almost seems as though there was some
thing in the profession itself that called for the best in human
nature, and kept it always ready for the bugle-call to duty.
Heaven bless our gallant soldiers, the dead and the Hving!

2 70 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
General Mackenzie, who died recently, having been for
some time under the cloud of a long illness, was very kind
to us, but the sudden death of his mother while we were
there seemed to cast a shadow over everything for him. I
believe he was in some way connected with the Slidells, of
Mason and Slidell fame; indeed, I have heard he took his
mother's name of ^Mackenzie after the sad affair of the exe
cution. He was much beloved by his companions when we
last saw him. I trust that he is happy now.
The devoted affection, which everywhere surrounded the
Logans with an atmosphere of love, gave us sunshine iii
which to live while we were under their protecting wings;
and we were never allowed to feel like strangers in the
ancient city, with its blending of Spanish and Mexican
romance, its curious Indians, and odd people from every
where, who were led there by various reasons. Santa Y€
means Holy Spirit, and it has always been a religious place,
as one sees from its old churches, that of San Miguel being
the very oldest in America. On its mouldering beams can
even now be traced the Spanish characters telling how and
when it was built. My daughters could not be persuaded to
enter it, however, because a friend who was with us incauti
ously revealed the fact that small-pox patients were buried
under it. I alone was not afraid, for I have a great deal of
the Oriental fatalism -which sustains one under the most
terrible trials, the feeling that what is to be will be, "'Tis
Allah's wish." There is nothing at all remarkable in the
interior of this old church. On the walls are some ancient
paintings from Old Mexico, some roses before the Virgin's
altar. Yet, kneeling there, the reflection of the many others
that had been before me, praying as I then prayed, and in
vain, for my child's restoration to health, brought with it a
solemn feeling of life's brief dream and eternity's waking!
Oh, the faith with which sufferers press on to the shrines
where healing is promised ! I should love to see the grotto
of Lourdes, with its mound of crutches cast away by the
pilgrims who crept painfully there, to return joyfully! The
wife of General Grant once told me just before her husband's
death, that she, though Protestant, could not resist carrying
away with her a bottle of the waters of Our Lady's Spring
at Lourdes, and when the General had one of his most death
like spells of weakness, and they feared he might never
breathe again, she poured the sacred contents of this vial

SANTA FA 271
upon his head and invoked Heaven's mercy on this great
and good man, that he might be spared yet a little longer to
his country. She said she did not claim the boon for her
husband, as that might be too selfish and personal, but that
his country might a little longer keep the leader who had
saved it. The prayer was granted, and he lived to finish the
story of his life, so dear to the people of America, and such.
a blessing to his fondly loved wife and children. The world
may think it was the remedies given so skillfully by his
patient and learned physicians, but who shall say that it was
not the Virgin Mary's answer to a woman's prayer? Who
shall say that the Savior, who caused the dark eves of Jairus'
daughter to awaken, did not speak once more in mercy,
though to mortal eyes and ears he was unseen and unheard ?
The quaint houses of adobe struck us with surprise at first,
but still more so on entering them, for they are so much
more convenient and comfortable than they appear outwardly,
blending as thev do with the dull gray of the landscape.
The whole aspect of the citv is monotonous, owing to the
entire absence of vegetation. One real oasis in the desert of
nature there, was the home of the old Bishop Lamy, from
whom one of the villages takes its name. He had then out
lived the allotted span of mortal days, and has since joined
the saints, by whom, in statue and picture at his perpetual
devotions, he was surrounded. He had truly, in the grounds
which enclosed his palace, made the wilderness blossom like
the rose. As you entered his garden you might believe
yourself transformed in a dream by the fabled genii of the
Arabian Nights, such a charming scene was revealed to your
gaze. Passing through an orchard, you approach a little
lake, with a fairy isle in its center, around which fishes,
gleaming like living silver through the crystal waters, swim
near the aquatic plants that fringe its banks. Here, on our
first visit, the good Bishop at once conducted us, after our
most cordial reception at his hospitable porch. Half reclin
ing on one of the wooden benches on the bank, and drop
ping from time to time crumbs to tempt the gaily sporting
fishes to the surface of the lake, seemingly absorbed in rev
erie, was a youthful ecclesiastic who had not yet taken the
final vows which were to bind him to the service of the
Church. On ,my first glance at the face of the young stu
dent, I thought I must have met him before, but suddenly I
recalled the origin of the resemblance that struck me. At

272 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
the time of the Centennial celebration in Philadelphia, in one
of the picture galleries there was a small painting of a beauty
that haunted the mind for evermore. I regret that I do not
recall the artist's name, for I should be inclined to envy the
fortunate possessor. It was a garden-scene in France, in the
charming month of May. Amid the brightly blooming
flowers hummed the gay and frivolous honey-bees. Lovely
birds were poised here and there. Each blossom seemed a
chalice of sparkling dew, and the music and the perfume
were borne into the heart by the magic touch of the painter's
brush, which inspired the whole with 'life and beauty.
Leaning from the casement of a monastery near, half hid
den by the embowering trees, was a young priest, the exact
counterpart of this one at Santa F^, or, perhaps, I should say
the counterfeit presentment. The same pale, classic face,
upon the head the black velvet beretta which intensified the
marble pallor of the brow. On the countenance there
rested an expression of gentle mournfulness. Underneath
the picture were these exquisite pathetic lines:
' ' Remind me not that I alone
Am shut out from the Spring. ' '
Perhaps to eyes that look upon cloistered walls, the en
chanted garden of the world does not even in dreams reveal
its bitter thorns, and those which wound the most deeply al
ways attack those who have plucked the sweetest flowers.
Costly is pleasure, and costlier far is glory. The venerable
Bishop himself was one's ideal of the good priest described
by Victor Hugo in " Les Miserables," For long years he
toiled in that mission, and now the fruits of his labors ap
peared on every side. His dark and deep-set eyes, that had
seen so much suffering in this world, gazed on Maud with
the deepest interest, as she let fall from her slender fingers
the crumbs she took from his hand to give to the fishes;
watching them with momentary fascination, he turned to
me and said in a low voice: "Such angelic beauty is fit for
God alone; why do you hope to retain it here?" Relent
ing, as he saw my look of anguish at the thought of separa
tion, he resumed: "Yet I think I could save her for you
if she staid here to breathe this 'pure air for a year, and I
would give you plenty of room in my house, and, as I am
something of a physician myself, we might have the hap
piness of beholding her restored to health once more," But

SANTA FE.

273

Maud's dreams carried her to the Pacific's golden shores, as
if there she hoped to find some new Hesperides. She grew
restless at the thought of remaining long in this place, at
first so quaint and interesting. But then and there, and
many a time afterwards, I recalled with deep gratefulness,
regret and misgiving the kind offer of the good Bishop, It
was such a lovely, peaceful spot, and the convent bells close
by had such an appealing and heavenly sound, which seemed
to speak of rest and home.
One evening, in strolling on the streets of Santa F^, we
were pleased to meet a friend of Mr, Crowley's, whom we
had known in Washington, This was Col, Tim Lee.
He was at that time in the postal service. He did everything
in his power to render our visit enjoyable, Mr, L, Brad
ford Prince, now Governor of New Mexico, was the Chief-
Justice of that country. He -was very courteous to us all
through our stay, and I shall never forget his house, for any
thing so full of Spanish and Indian and Mexican curiosities I
hardly expect to see again. This country is rich in historic
material of that kind, and he seemed to study it with great
ardor. He had some valuable and strange relics from some
of the churches in Old Mexico. I know no man whom
Harrison could have chosen for Governor so thoroughly
conversant with the people, the history, and the necessities of
the country as L. Bradford Prince. Wandering along the
street it seems so strange to meet, first an Indian in his
gorgeous dress, for I noticed that in the far West they had
not adopted the European attire, as they attempted to do in
our reservations here in Niagara, but cling to their early
love for brilliant coloring; then the Mexican women with
their shawls thrown over, their heads in that picturesque
fashion which comes to them from old Spain. I have always
thought the Spanish dress the most graceful in the world, as
well as the most alluring. What could be more fascinating
than the red rose so coquettishly placed in the dark hair of
the Spanish girl, and the soft folds of the lace mantilla which
forms such a charming frame for the face? And the fan, so
inseparably associated with the women of that sunny land,
what arch glances from beautiful black eyes have flashed
over it! And the pretty fashion of the high comb for the
hair is of Spanish origin. Those things could never be
improved upon, and are as much associated in our minds with
Spain as the duenna walking by the side of the young beauty.

2 74 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
or the gay cavalier who touches his guitar beneath her lattice,
or follows her on the way to Mass, in order that he may
mingle earthly love with heavenly devotion, as is also one
of the oldest customs in " lovely Spain, renowned, romantic
land!" The cuisine in the Palace Hotel of Santa F^ is most
excellent, though the provisions are brought from a great
distance, and they are forced to pay enormous wages to
cooks and waiters, in order to give them sufficient incentive
to meet the loneliness of a strange and distant place. I re
member, on the night of our arrival, that I needed some beef-
tea for Maud, and as it -was long past the hour for serving,
I sent for the cook to convince him that it really was neces
sary for an invalid. He had demurred at first, but at the
sight of Maud he relented, for there is no heart so hardened
that it will not melt at the prospect of youth and loveliness
about to pass away. Maud w^as greatly interested in his ap
pearance. He wore immense gold hoops in his ears, the
kind seen in operas, and generally worn by the love-lorn
tenor or hero, and a belt in which a long knife was conspic
uously displayed. He looked like an Italian or a "dusky
Moor," but his history we could not ascertain. The princi
pal waiter was a foreigner, too, and might have passed any
where for some young Marquis, as he could speak several
languages, not only fiuently, but with elegance.
The Governor of New Mexico at that time was Mr. L. A.
Sheldon, appointed by President Garfield. He is an amiable
and thoroughly cultivated gentleman, and made himself ex
ceedingly agreeable to us all. Before we visited him at his
house, we thought it must be magnificent, something, per
haps, in the style of the halls of the Montezumas, of which
Prescott writes so glowingly. Judge, then,, of our astonish
ment to find it only an ordinary adobe house, very old and
very odd, to be sure, but not half so costly as many others.
He was amused at our disappointment, and said that though
he was the only man who lived in a palace, he was not
proud. We became much attached to a charming woman,
Mrs. T. B. Catron, whose home was in Santa F^, but who
was a great traveler. Her husband, known as "Tom"
Catron, they told us, was a famous and successful politician
and financier. I wonder if the dear lady remembers what I
said to her on our first meeting, that I knew I could not pos
sibly endure to see the death of a child, that it would kill me

SANTA FE. 27s
at once, and how she replied with tears that she had lived
through it, and how she must know, and then doubtless fore
saw, though too kind to say so, that I, too, must learn that
hearts may break, "yet brokenly live on." Doctor Alexander,
of the United States Army, was the only physician I met who
told me there was no hope for Maud, and though, of course,
he did it to prepare me, it was of no use, I then thought him
mistaken. He was a very kind and able gentleman indeed.
Three young officers' names I specially recall, Robert J. Mc-
Enany, George Plermann Patten and Edwin A, Strout, and
a very pleasant young couple, Mr, H, M. Atkinson and wife,
who showed us some kind attentions. I was much inter
ested in the family of Judge Casey, with whom we had been
fellow-travelers on the way to New Mexico. It was thrill
ing to hear his wife tell how her hair had been prematurely
whitened by the deadly fear of the wolves prowling round
their cabin in the early days of the wild West, when she
watched all night long by the cradle of her sleeping babes,
in her husband's absence, with no human help near. But
her children, reared amid such difficulties, were now pros
perous and happy. Several of them came with her to call
upon us, Mrs. W. C. Moore and Mrs. W. H. Patton and
their children.
At last, despite health-giving air and kind friends, Maud's
longing for the fruits and flowers that could not be found on
desert soil decided us to try California. Friends advised
Los Angeles, and the Mayor of that City, who then
happened to be visiting at Santa F^, told us the climate
there was very fine, and, as he expressed it, God Almighty
had done everything for the place, and man nothing. Mrs.
Logan insisted that Colonel Lee should accompany us on
our journey, and, though this was of course very pleasant, it
was not at all necessary, for in all our travels we found so
many kind friends, and the conductors all through this whole
country are so uniformly courteous to those intrusted to their
care. Then came our first heart-breaking good-bye to Gen
eral and Mrs, Logan, which only those can understand who
have felt angelic kindness, when ill, and despondent, and far
away from home. In the unrolling of the fateful future's
leaves, there were to be seen written down for us two more
partings with the noble General, for Alice and myself, and
one for Maud, and this farewell at the ancient City of
Santa F^ was in itself so mournful that it was well we

2 76 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
dreamed not of the others to come. It would but add to our
cares and trials here did we have the prophetic insight
described by my friend, James Fitts, in his beautiful story of
"The Parted Veil," But Mrs. Logan's divine gift of hope
sustained us all, and how well I could reafize that it was a
never-failing fount of inspiration to her husband, who was
not of so sunny a temperament, but rather more inclined to
foreboding and discouragement. But with Mrs. Logan
beside him,, " With heart so warm and eyes so bright.
No cloud could linger o'er him.
Her smiles turned them all to light."

As we passed through Arizona, I thought the climate
seemed absolutely perfect and felt tempted to change my
plans and stop there for awhile. But in some respects it
would have been dreary for Maud, though for one who
could live principally in the open air, the tent in the desert
life, I should think it would be just the place for pulmonary
troubles. At Albuquerque we met a friend of Mr. Crowley's,
Judge Bell, of New York, who had gone there to live in
consequence of some throat trouble. How disappointed he
was, as he eagerly jumped on the train, and shouted, "Is
Dick Crowley on board?" to find that it was only his wife
and daughters! He had hoped to renew for a time the
genial comradeship of other days, alas! now forever past, for
I read of his death two years ago in a New York paper —
"Archie" Bell, I think they called him. This trip from
Santa F^ to Los Angeles is strangely fascinating. On and
on, from the desert plain to the land of sunshine and flowers,
past long stretches of sand, where the giant cacti stand like
sentinel crosses to point the way to Paradise, where the wild
poppies smile from the fields, and all the tints grow brighter
as you near the golden country, till, at last, at the way
stations, large, heavily-laden branches, freshly plucked from
the orange trees, announce that you have touched the
enchanted shores and seem like fair heralds to the Hyper
borean realm. All the passengers were so thoughtful for
Maud on that journey. Everywhere they stopped to gather
fresh blossoms, and all the way her little state-room was like
a woodland bower. An old lady on the train gave me what
I have since thought to be an excellent bit of advice. She

^SANTA FE. 277
told me to treasure up and enjoy for my children and myself
any little pleasure that came in our way, for there was no
looking forward to anything in this life with certainty, and
that, even when passing under great shadows, little gleams
of sunshine appeared. Now, on looking back, I feel the
truth of her words, and I can see that I was helped all along
the way.
There is indeed a profusion of natural beauty in this City
of the Angels. An artist would revel in the splendor of the
coloring everywhere! The lovely tints of the sky and the
tropical luxuriance of leaf and fiower are marvelous to behold.
It does not seem like a city of business, yet I never saw a
finer drug-store than the one kept by Preuss & Pironi.
The frowning busts of Galen and many other ancient and
modern stars of the greatest of all professions are placed in
proud array. And there is a wonderful collection of the
strange roots and herbs of that country, all so freshly pre
pared, and so interesting to study. It is as though Nature
had, in addition to the glorious climate, also given plants
specially adapted to charm away the ills which flesh is heir
to. Many savants believe that for every mortal ailment
there grows some special herb. One physician said to me he
believed that the existence of opium in such vast quantities
on earth proved that in the mysterious plan of the universe
pain was meant to be. Perhaps some kind angel, looking
with sorrowing pity down on this vale of tears, dropped the
seeds of the poppy, loveliest and most mysterious flower,
emblem of transient hopes and of dreamless sleep, praised by
poets, not in life's spring, but in its decay! Lamartine calls
the poppy "Sleep's Sentinel Flower." Who has not, on
seeking to pluck the witching scarlet poppy, been twice dis
appointed, first to find it so reluctant to leave the root, and
then to see the silken leaves drop away in one's grasp? As
Burns said : " Our pleasures are like poppies spread.
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed."
Morpheus, the god of sleep and dreams, still presides over
this balm to the suffering, and from him it receives its name.
As some sweet poetess sings in a lovely melody:
' ' The clear-eyed Greeks saw oft their God of sleep
Wandering about through the black midnight hours,

278 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Soothing the restless couch with slumbers deep,
And scattering thy medicated flowers.
Till hands were folded for their final rest.
Clasping white poppies o'er a pulseless breast."
One evening we all went out to drive beyond the out
skirts of the city, and even in the wilderness of roses that
bloomed everywhere by the roadside, and behind jealously
guarded hedges, there seemed at one farm-house to be the
most dazzling display of all. We stopped in admiration
before one bush that seemed to throw into the air fountains
of pink and white roses, so perfect that one could not sup
press the longing to grasp some of them, if only for an
instant. Maud said, " Mamma, I do wish I could have some ;"
so I ventured to ask if they would sell me a bunch, but they
were only too delighted to come out to the carriage and load us
down with the fairest ones, offering gently at the same time
their prayers that the sweet young lady might get well once
more. They -were Spanish people, and their speech was
broken, and they seemed poor, but, ah! they were so kind!
Many a time since have I contrasted this little wayside inci
dent with the selfishness of wealthy acquaintances who, from
the gorgeous conservatories, could not spare a single rosebud.
Our destination here was Sierra Madre Villa, a health-resort
at the foot of the Sierra Madre Mountains, and, after a few
days in the city, -we drove over one evening in the stage
coach. It is a beautiful road of about fifteen miles, past
lovely villas and orange groves, with their perfumed air
gently wafted by the light evening breeze. That night a
slight rain fell, the only one we saw for some months. This
Villa, which nestles at the foot of the great mountains in a
spot of romatic beauty, was built by Mr. Coggswell, a por
trait-painter of considerable celebrity. We found that he
knew many of our old friends at Washington, haying visited
them at their homes while taking their pictures. He was
intimately acquainted with the family of Chief -Justice Chase,
and the Lincolns and many others. He had studied in Rome
in his youth, and he at once pronounced Maud to be a living
Beatrice Cenci, and he was so impressed by the resemblance,
as was his wife also, that they always called her Beatrice
during our stay at the Villa. Mrs. Coggswell was a delight
ful woman, and as devoted and thoughtful as possible in her
attentions to Maud. Sierra Madre Villa is a place never to
be forgotten. As you stand on the piazza and look for the

SANTA FA. 279
first time on the exquisite scene before you, it seems that not
Eden itself could be more lovely. All over the low roof of
the building and the arbors around clamber glorious roses in
wild abundance, such roses as must be in Persian lands, lands
pf the sun ; such roses as Moore tells of in Lalla Rookh :
" There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer.'s stream.
And the nightingale sings round it all the day long ;
That bower and its music I never forget,
And oft when alone in the bloom of the year,
I think. Is the nightingale singing there yet ?
Are the roses still bright by the calm Bendemeer ?"
A magnificent orange grove forms the setting for this
lovely gem, and how charmed Aland was with its fragrance
the night we first came there. I believe, after all. Nature's
masterpiece is the orange tree. It is so perfectly symmet
rical, and its leaves are such a vivid and glossy green,
contrasting so finely with the bright golden balls of fruit,
and, then, to crown all, the delicious odor of its blossoms,
which, to our surprise, we found appeared with the fruit itself.
There is, therefore, no suggestion of fading about it, but a
perpetual renewal. We may see it blooming again on the
other side of Jordan, for it does not speak of death. Rather
is it suggestive of life and happiness, for its blossoms deck
the fair brows of youthful brides, and it is never used to
scatter over the shroud, or even lie upon the grave of the
early dead. The passion-flower in all its purple pomp is
there in lavish quantities, and the mystic century-plant is an
every day affair, quite as much so as our sunflower and hoUy-
¦ hocks are to us. Close by is the famed valley of Pasadena,
whence come many of the luscious fruits that are sent to our
eastern markets. Only fancy a country where all kinds of
delicious things grow all the year through, where there is no
cruel winter, no sad, perceptible decay of earthly things!
Among the inmates who had come, like ourselves, to woo
the gentle airs of the place, was a Miss Turner, of St. Louis,
who had been a school-mate of Maud's at the Georgetown
Convent, near Washington. We did not see her on the first
day, but in the evening Maud was softly playing snatches of
her favorite sonatas at the piano in the parlor, and the sweet
sounds, joined to the magic spell of her touch on the keys,
brought almost every one to listen, and among them was
Miss Turner, who was rejoiced to find in the young

28o ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
musician her companion of the Convent. A lady also came
in who said, " Those are very skillful little fingers, my dear."
This was Mrs. Atkinson, of Boston, who was traveling with
an invalid son, in whose family we soon became much inter
ested. Josephj the well brother, was so devoted to the sick
one, and he had, for his constant associate, a young man
from San Francisco, Mr. Kellogg, who played on the guitar
very nicely, and who was full of youthful life and spirits; a
verv desirable person to meet at a health-resort, for there are
too many otherwise harmless people, who seem to think it
their special duty to warn those who are ill that they
certainly must die, and that those about them should talk of
nothing but the grave. In contrast with the thoughtful and
tender help of many whom I met, and whom I shall ever
gratefully remember, is the horrible recollection of some
who were always wondering that I could smile, that I could
allow Maud to arrange her lovely golden hair in a becoming
way, that I could let her go out to drive, that I did not keep
her always surrounded with helpless invalids; in short, that
I did not condemn her at once to a living prison, instead of
having her few days on earth brightened by the sight of
fiowers and birds, and all lovely things, and, best of all, the
loving, smiling faces of devoted friends, who went with her
to the very edge of the Valley of the Shadow. Further
' than this they could hot go, but on the other side she will be
the first to meet and thank them some day, some bright day,
when their trials, too, are ended, though perchance not early,
like hers.
We heard many a fantastic tale of serpents, and vampires,
and other mythical creatures about the luxuriant creeping '
masses of foliage that surrounded the outlying grounds of
the Villa, but we did not happen to see anything of the kind.
Maud had been reading some gruesome tales of how vampires
lived on human blood, and that they were a species of bat,
that bird of night and darkness, suggestive of ruins and
haunted places. At night we heard continually a shrill
unearthly croaking, which seemed to be in the walls of the
room, and we found it impossible to sleep. Maud instantly
jumped to the conclusion that the fabled vampire was there
on its deadly mission, and we searched, in order to quiet her,
eveything in the room, even the trunks. In the morning,
when I was telling the others at the breakfast table, they
all laughingly assured me that they all had the same experi-

SANTA FE. 281
ence, that it was but the night-song of an ancient frog who
resided in the great reservoir near the mountains, and that
we would soon grow accustomed to it. The next night
young Kellogg captured the largest bat I ever saw, and
impaled it on the outer wall at the entrance to the dining-
room. Maud's glance lightened upon it at once, and under
neath it was written the word " Vampire." It seems to me
that California has all the beauties of the tropics, without the
dangers. No fierce tigers spring from the embowering
blooms, no deadly cobras track the traveler's path, and no
sting of poisonous insects disturbs his placid dreams in the
perfect nights there. A very interesting couple were Doctor
Champlin and his wife, whose home was on the Hudson
River. They had just returned from abroad, having sjDent
the previous winter in Egypt, and the doctor was most
enthusiastic on the subject of desert life, and the wonderful
skill of Arabians in arranging tents, .and the pleasures of
camel rides, and all the interesting things in these ancient
countries. Some friends from Milwaukee, Mr. and Mrs.
John Miller, came to join them, and we had much pleasure
in their arrival, for they were perfectly well, and full of good
spirits, and it was a delight to be with them. Their pleasure
trip had extended over some time, and I hope it has con
tinued ever since, if that were possible. Among the count
less pretty and curious things collected by Mrs. Miller on
her travels Was a pair of love-birds of a pale-green color.
They come from the Indian Islands and are called paroquets,
or parrakeets. Their attachment to each other is remarkable,
as well as their beauty. They are the very prettiest of the
parrot specie. But it is not alone in lovely birds that this
warm fidelity is found, for the asp, famous since Cleopatra's
heroic death, is said by natural historians to exhibit the
strongest proofs of love and revenge of any of that kingdom.
It never lives alone, and when, by any chance, its mate is
killed, the surviving one follows the person who caused its
death, regardless of distance or obstacles, over high mohn-
tains, a creeping Nemesis, whose very touch is fatal. Very
much like some human beings is this " pretty worm of Nilus
that kills and hurts not." Doctor Champlin, though a very
learned physician, had, through a rich inheritance, found it
unnecessary to practice, and though constantly prescribing
for those in whom he took an interest, had never been known
to accept a fee. He seemed to understand Maud marvelously

282 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
well, as did also his wife, who was a very sympathetic, and
lovely woman. When I told him that the companionship of
so many invalids was depressing, and that Maud pined to see
some of her old friends, and to be with young people, and
was anxious to go to San Francisco, but that I hesitated on
account of the climate, he said all these things were neces
sary to her comfort. So, to satisfy my own judgment in
the matter, I took Alice with me first to San Francisco for
a day, leaving Maud in the special charge of the Doctor and
his wife. I was so delighted with all things there that
I decided to return with Maud at once. It so happened
that even the air was favorable, for it was unusually
cold ,Tt the Villa, and very bright and pleasant at San
Francisco. And then, as is always the case at large cities, the
rarest and choicest things were sent there, therefore, at an
equal cost, much more pleasure and benefit could be derived.
So, with a regret at parting from the kind friends of the
lovely Villa of Sierra Madre, with its bowers of oranges and
its passion-flowers, and with an unspoken dread of going so
much farther away from our distant eastern home, with all
its precious ones, we started, hopefully in spite of all, for the
city which now lives in our hearts forever — San Francisco.

CHAPTER XL
San Francisco.
' ' I come from a land in the sun-bright deep.
Where golden gardens glow.
Where the winds of the north, becalmed in sleep.
Their conch-shells never blow.
Haste to that Holy Isle with me,
Haste ! Haste ! ' '
If there be a spot on this earth where the gods would love
to revel with mortals awhile, though Olympus might be for
the time deserted, that place is surely the city of the Golden
Gate! Here nature and man have combined to make perfec
tion. Here perpetual sunbeams shine, and flowers bloom of
such brilliant hues that at first one fears to touch them, lest
they might prove to be like the illusive blossoms seen in
dreams, or like the fabled fairy gold that vanished at a

SAN FRANCISCO. 283
touch. Yet no fairy gold is hercj but the veritable gardens
of the Hesperides and the true river of Pactolus. By the
side of this magical stream one day stood a young prince.
His name was John W. Mackay. There was nothing to de
note that he was to be favored of all the gods, that bound
less wealth and happy love, fair sons, fine health, loving
friends and long life were all to be given to him. Yet these
things came to pass, and no crowned head in the world to
day receives more homage than his, and none of them in my
opinion are one-half so -worthy of it as he. No proud
descendant of a royal line ever could boast of truer nobility
of heart and soul than this nobleman of nature from the Sierras.
Names of Douglas and Bruce shine in Scottish history. Burke,
Curran, Grattan and Emmet are fondly remembered as gems
from the Emerald Isle; England has her great lights of
literature, of poetry and patriotism ; but in the days to come
the descendants of John Mackay will be as proud to boast
of him for their ancestor as are the lineage of any chief in
Great Britain. He is the embodiment of all that is best and
truest in our American country. Unspoiled by the power of
a colossal fortune, with a heart that feels for all in struggling
and sorrow, the kind deeds, of which perhaps the world will
never know, will wreathe for him an eternal laurel crown
and smooth his pathway to the stars. He who gives
precious jewels as souvenirs of friendship or of love, is sure
that in one sense they will be lasting; for they decay not,
though the forms they decorate perish and fade away; but
he who comforts the afflicted, or renders some priceless kind
ness, his name shall be traced by angel hands in that immor
tal record where we stand as we really are, and beside its
luminflus splendor the titles of statesmen, bards and conquer
ors shall fade! I know if I could be permitted to take wings
and fly for one instant to that blest abode, and the Recording
Angel should grant me a glance at its pages, I should clearly
read the names of John W. Mackay and his wife. For they
teU me that, amid all her dazzling social triumphs, greater
than any other American ever achieved within the closely
locked portals of the great ones of the Old World, she has
never forgotten to minister to the poor and the unhappy. A
fond husband has adorned her with historic jewels; gems
which once sparkled on the brows of .queens now shed their
luster upon the American beauty. But their imprisoned
rays of Hght grow dim when they are compared with the

284 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
grateful tears which beam in the eyes of those whom she
has befriended and saved from despair.
Ancient legends tell that Queen Eliz.abeth, of Hungary,
when carrying bread to her starving poor, was stopped by
her stern husband, the king, who inquired what she held in
her apron, and she replied in her terror that it was only
flowers, and that when he rudely grasped the bundle, be
hold! there was nothing but fresh fr.tgrant roses! Thus,
like Saint Elizabeth's unfading flowers, in many a heart the
heavenly roses of memory bloom for the Mackays! Some
day thev will be twined for them into immortal garlands,
whose precious dews shall be the sad tears they caused to be
wiped away ! One of Italy's most illustrious names, the Col
onna, has been given to the fair daughter of Mrs. Mackay.
It is fitting that the great families of the past should unite
their expiring glories with the bright fame of the present age.
Their record dates back to the twelfth century, at which
time Giovanni Colonna was made a Cardinal. The history of
the middle ages tells that they belonged to the Ghibelline
party, and that one of them was created Pope. The cele
brated Vittoria Colonna was the daughter of Febrizio
Colonna, and her mother vv^as the Duke of Urbino's daugh
ter. Vittoria married the Marquis of Pescara, who died at
the age of thirty-six. Her sorrow at his death caused her to
lead the life of a religious recluse, although she admitted
into her solitude a few favored friends; among them was the
great painter, Michael Angelo. Famous alike for her intel
lect, beauty and her remarkable devotion to her husband's
memory, her name is one of the proudest in fair Italy's
annals. Of the four bonanza kings, only Mackay and F^r are
left, O'Brien having died years ago, and Flood but recently,
in Germany. We were greatly disappointed to find, on our
arrival at San Francisco, that Senator Fair was just about to
start for an extended European tour. We knew that all his
former kindness to us at Washington would be renewed
when he learned that we were there for Maud's health. He
is a great traveler, having already been around the world,
and he is apt to grow restless in a very quiet life. He and
Mrs. Fair both have exquisite taste in their surroundings and
appointments of every kind, which is much more than can be
said of a great many people who possess abundant wealth.
When I saw Mrs. Fair in Washington I said at once that she

SAN FRANCISCO. ~ 285
was one of the very best dressed women I ever met, and I
supposed, as a matter of course, that her gorgeous wardrobe
was directly imported from Paris, that central point where
the devotees of fashion turn for their inspirations; but I after
wards learned that an artiste of San Francisco had carte
blanche for supplying these peerless robes, fit to deck the
form of a queen. This gifted personage was known as
Madame Max, and we were all perfectly charmed, not only
with her costumes, but with her delightful little French
graces of manner and her unfailing cheerfulness. She seemed,
too, quite as anxious to bestow her marvelous skill upon the
simple dresses of those who were not in the gilded splendor
of the bonanza circle, as on thoseof the golden queens of that
golden city. I was charmed to meet her last year in New York
City, where, with her husband, she has now taken her abode.
She seemed to create in everything she made a sentiment
which gave each garment a special little romance of its own.
If I possessed the purse of one of 'the mining millionaires, I
should feel that its shining contents were well repaid by the
creations of Madame Ma.x's fairy fingers. I do not hesitate
to pronounce her as fine a modiste as the country can boast,
though, for that matter, any one of our leading New York
modistes can excel anything I ever yet saw which was im
ported from the other side of the Atlantic — Paris, London, or
where you will. Their matchless talent and taste are so far
above that of mere amateurs, that it is safer to trust their
judgment than one's own, and I have often wondered at the
conceit of many people who constantly spend vast sums in
rendering themselves hideous, when by a timely confidence
in the judgment and genius of Donovan, or Howard, or
Connelly, they could be transformed into magnificence.
Solomon said long ago that a fool will not be parted from
his folly, and so there will still continfle to be Americans who
prefer being cheated abroad to receiving an honest equivalent
for their money at home. I claim, as the result of consider
able observation, that our work is much better done than that
of foreigners, and that our leading artistes here have no
superiors in the world.
Senator Sharon, whom we knew in Washington, was the
owner of the Palace Hotel, in San Francisco, and his kind
welcome made us feel that we were not among strangers,
though in a strange land. His daughter. Flora, whom we
remembered as a lovely young girl, had since become Lady

286 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA
Hesketh, of England, her husband being a relative of the
poet Cowper, whose letters to his dear cousin Hesketh are
among the most interesting in his memoirs. The eldest sister,
who married Mr. Francis Newlands, a prominent lawyer, had
been called away from this fife, leaving three beautiful chil
dren, who seemed doubly dear to their grandfather, the
Senator. This hotel, the Palace, is said to be the very largest
in America, having one thousand sleeping rooms. It was
modeled after one the Senator specially admired in France,
and he always seemed to take a great interest in its manage
ment, which then was in the especial charge of a very fine
man, Mr. Sedgwick, who certainly proved to be a most
agreeable host. There, too, was the most famous hotel clerk
of this continent. Smith, who never forgot a face or a name.
It goes without saying that it was a charming and comfortable
place to stay, and the months we dwelt there are beautiful
in our remembrance now.
" Long, long shall the heart with these memories be filled,
Like the vase in which roses have once been distilled ;
You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will.
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still."
As I look back through the seven years, which in some
aspects seem like a century, that is, if we keep account of time
by suffering and tragic experience, instead of figures, I love
to paint with ardent friendship's colors in my fancy the dear
faces of the good friends -who sustained me in my long con-
fiict of hope against dispair. How often have I asked myself
the question, whether a merciful Fate did not send me to
those distant shores of the Pacific, -where I felt a fuller sense
of life in every vein, a courage to brave all trials, as though
there was in the air some divine incense which gave faith and
power to the drooping soul. San Francisco, city of my
heart ! Never again shall I behold thee, save in dreams!
If only Maud, my adored one, could have been restored by
thy magic spell, I would then somehow have revisited thy
cherished shores. But only a year later she went to a far
distant land, unseen by mortal eyes.
" And my thoughts, like palms in exile,
Climb up to look and pray
For a glimpse of that dear country
That lies so far away."

SAN FRANCISCO. 287
The first card sent to our rooms bore upon it this inscrip
tion : " Mrs. Lester, sister of Senator Jones." The sacred love
of which this was the herald will be continued in eternity,
for, like me, she had a beautiful and dying child. Sweet
Agnes Lester, with her lovely auburn and waving hair, her
dark eyes, and her rose-flushed cheeks, which deceived the
beholder with hopes destined to decay! Senator John P.
Jones, of Nevada, is one of the great figures in the history
of the Pacific Coast, written and unwritten. Men of this
region are on a grander scale in brain and heart than the
narrow and sordid people of the East. They bear their
gigantic successes without elation, and their terrible reverses
without a murmur. "Dame Fortune's golden smiles" may
change into lowering frowns, but these brave souls can never
feel dismay. Uncrowned monarchs of their own realms,
they show in all experiences an unchanging front to the
world. Senator Jones was at one time worth many millions,
but when the great depression came in the -value of the
Comstock and the Sierra Nevada mining shares, he bore the
news that his fortune had vanished with all the composure
of an Indian Chief at the stake. He has a most original and
many-sided mind. He has read everything, and thought and
reflected on everything. To borrow one of his own favorite
expressions, he has " seen all there is of this play called Life,
and they may ring down the curtain for him at any
moment," But still I believe that last summons will be an
unwelcome one, for he enjoys all things to the utmost, jjos-
sessing as he does one of the most generous and genial
natures in the world. The money of all the Rothschilds
gould not remain long in his pockets, for he could resist no
sufferer's appeal, and if boundless charity be, as our Lord
Jesus says, the greatest of all good qualities, then, at the
sounding of the name of John Percival Jones, the gates of
Paradise will roll ajar, and in that radiant Hght of which we
dream, he will see the faces of those who loved him, crowd
ing to meet him, joyously again, nevermore to say farewell!
If he were merely to note the events of his life, they would
make a brilliant record, for not only has he had a stirring
career himself, but he has been the friend and confidant of
many illustrious people. He was for years the Fidus
Achates of Roscoe Conkling, and his estimate of the char
acter of that distinguished statesman is probably the most
correct one formed by any of his friends. Senator Jones is

288 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
not blinded by friendship in the least, and, though capable
of ardent attachments, he has the faculty of seeing faults and
weaknesses very plainly, though in dealing with them he is
the most lenient and gentle judge in all the world. He
makes much allowance for circumstance and temperament. I
believe snobbishness and hypocrisy are in his eyes the most
detestable of crimes, and as he is a marvelous, almost magical,
reader of human nature, he is not easily deceived. He is
gifted with the most charming adaptiveness, being equally
at home in the mining-camp or the salon. Yet, though his
society is eagerly courted by the rich and powerful, he listens
patiently always to the story of the poor wayfarer on life's
rough high-way, sharing to the utmost his means, and gener
ously giving his labor and his time to help the unfortunate,
who have stumbled or fallen on the -way. He is now in his
third term as United States Senator, from Nevada, being
always the people's choice for that position. He is generally
beloved all along the Coast, and I fear he will find it a diffi
cult, if not impossible, thing to retire, as he sometimes wishes
to do, into private life. He is very fond of San Francisco
and would like to live there, but the pressure of business and
politics force him on continually to the East. The dreamy
beauty of his western home suits the poetic side of his nature
and woos him to return to the land of the laurel and the
cypress, -with its balmy and fragrant airs, which never blow
too hot or too cold, and make life a luxury, while the legis
lative halls of the Nation call out to him in tones to which
his higher nature responds, and he has fought many a hard-
won battle for his region, on the silver question and other
great and important issues. I suppose to such minds as hi?
repose would soon create satiety, for
" Their breath is agitation, and their life
A storm whereon they ride, to sink at last ;
And yet so nursed and bigoted to strife.
That should their days, surviving perils past.
Melt to calm twilight, they feel overcast
With sorrow and supineness, and so die.
He married Georgiana, the daughter of Eugene SulHvan,
of San Francisco, who was collector of the port in the time
of Grant's Presidency. Of all the blessings in his richly^
endowed life, I think the greatest Senator Jones ever pos
sessed is his wife. She combines in one person more charms

SAN FRANCISCO. 289
and more goodness than almost any other woman in the
world. Of Irish ancestry on one side, and educated in a
French convent, all that is most fascinating in these two
races seems to be hers. My daughter, Maud, who was not
only fastidious in worldly affairs, but from her crystal-pure
nature a soul reader as well, pronounced Mrs. Jones to be
the most perfect lady she ever met. She had, to a marked
degree, the " bel air " which Beatrix Esmond so admired, and
those who knew her father best say that it was specially in
herited from him. When I met him, it was in the decHne of
his days, and he was then in a very melancholy state of mind,
owing to many disappointments. His feelings are thus
expressed in a verse written on his last birthday :
" Once more the surf upon the beach hath rolled.
More dismal every time it breaks and cold;
It leaves what other surges left before,
Torn wrecks of hopes that erstwhile gaily sped.
Pale blood of waves in ocean battles shed,
And some rare sea-shells, beautiful but dead.
Upon the weary shore."
Mrs. Jones, though thoroughly accomplished, is not in the
least pedantic, but adapts herself charmingly to every one.
She is considerably younger than the Senator, but I have often
thought what a pity it would have been if she had -wasted her
rare jDersonality on some younger man, for it would require a
mature observation and experience, both to enable a man
truly to appreciate such a peerless woman — and her hus
band does, in every fiber of his being, with all his heart
and soul, Roy, his son by an earlier marriage, inherits his
father's fine nature and great qualities of mind. He will for
ever be incapable of petty thoughts or narrow views on any
thing. He has been from his birth, where he reigned as the
little prince at Gold Hill, so constantly petted and beloved
that it would have spoiled any but the sunniest and noblest of
characters. The three daughters of his present marriage,
Alice, Marion and little Georgie, her mother's image, are all
charming and beautiful children. It is beautiful to see the
fond affection that unites the whole family at Gold Hill.
There is the Senator's mother, a magnificent looking old lady,
who is royally worshiped by her numerous descendants and all
their connection by marriage. There is Sam, the bachelor
uncle, who has all the nieces' and nephews' affairs closely at

290 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
heart. There is the good and generous Alonzo Hamilton,
who married one of the Senator's sisters. There is George
Lester, the husband of my own dearest friend. There is
Mrs. Gorham, a superb character, whom to know is a privi
lege and a benefit. Truly, if it were not for the sad visits of
the death angel, who has stolen almost all her treasurers from
Mrs. Lester, this family would not need to long for Para- >
disc, but would find it at Gold Hill, This reminds me
that I was told that Napa Valley, close by them, is often
claimed as the real spot where stood the Garden of Eden.
Many people go there to try the grape-cure, which is reported
to be an unfailing panacea — another instance of how my
thology clings still to our latest nomenclature, and how the
fabled daughter of Esculapius is made to bestow her name
on every new discovery which is supposed to mitigate human
suffering. Senator Jones brought to us at once Doctor Bruner, a friend
of his own and an accomplished physician. We became deeply
attached to him. His daily visits were a consolation, and
his face was our oracle, in which we read hope or fears.
Yet he might have made it a mask, if he had so chosen, for
a more perfectly calm and salf-contained man I never saw.
He was so kind to Maud, so exquisitely gentle, and in all
ways such a polished gentleman, that his memory is part of
the tender light that ever hovers over San Francisco, He
seemed devoted to his home, though he had been all about
the world — a student at Paris, a traveler everywhere. In
those pleasant days, when we were first established in this
lovely place, I thought the motto of the State of California
expressed my feelings. It is "Eureka" — I have found it!
Surrounded with dear friends, with a most skillful doctor,
with Maud smiling and contented, and Hope ever singing
her syren song in my heart, it seemed indeed that I could
bribe, coax or drive away the dread specter standing near.
In the old legend of Pandora, when the evils were let loose
upon mankind, and Hope alone remained to console, was it
well? Or would it be better to know at the outset of every
struggle that defeat was sure, if so it were written ? I be
lieve that hope is like love in its nature, that it outlives all
things, that floods will not drown it, nor death destroy it.
For does not love survive all disappointments here and
build for itself in dreams an eternal home for which it waits?
Hope is the nepenthe for the soul's agony, and we shrink

SAN FRANCISCO. 291
from accepting at once as final the dread decrees of fate, but
eagerly sip the delusive draught whenever it is offered, and
turn aside from the dark cup of despair, until at test it is
forced to our unwilling lips. And then, with what strange
fortitude we drain it to the bitter dregs! Whence comes
this strength? Surely it is more than mortal! The Chris
tian of to-day gazes upon the cross and, Hke Jean Valjean,
is comforted by the example of the Great Martyr, but
pagans of all races have also seemed to have a spiritual help.
Whence comes this high and unknown reliance? Answer,
Socrates, who didst cheerfully drink thy hemlock in prison,
with the saying that henceforth all earthly cares are
drowned ! Answer, Cleopatra, who, with a serpent's bite,
baffled a Caesar's triumph! Answer, mighty Julius, when
thou didst wrap thy mantle round thine imperial form to
hide from false friends thine agony ! And Napoleon, thou
Sesostris of modern days, when the kings who drew thy
chariot turned to rend thee at last, and imprisoned on a lonely
rock-bound isle the mighty spirit that once aroused the
world, say, from whence didst thou derive thy god-like
power to smile with calm disdain on the allied powers
whose combined strength was needed to cope with thy brain
alone? Perhaps it was the proud consciousness that thou
wast greater in thy exile than in thy blaze of glory, for
nothing is so contemptible in the eyes of the Muse of his
tory, past or present, as the many contending and arrayed
against one.. Many places shone from the reflected luster of
thy name, but St, Helena more than all!
" Thou isle ! to be remembered long and well,
That saw'st the unfledged eaglet chip his shell ! "
Tell, O, gentle Louis, King of France, and fair Marie
Antoinette, whose royal blood stained forever the merciless
guillotine! And the ill-starred Stuarts, Charles the First of
England, and Mary of Scotland, who trod the scaffold's floor
as though it were the path to a rendezvous of love! And
Anne Boleyn, the monarch's worshiped bride, who coolly
observed that one stroke would be enough, as her neck was
so small ! And the countless brave soldiers, who have dared
and met death in battle-fields, and who have passed into
eternity, smiling, undaunted, triumphant!

292 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Justice Field, of Washington, with his wife, was living
that summer at the Palace Hotel. California is their home,
and they return there almost every year, much to the delight
of the people, who are so proud of them, Mrs, Field is a
very beautiful and attractive woman, and her position is on
the topmost pinnacle of that glittering structure called the
"best society." To possess her friendship is to possess a
signet ring which will gain favor in the most exclusive
circles, and she uses her power in the most amiable and
lovely way. Her receptions are as delightful as Washington
has ever known, for the reason that in their quality they
never change, as she does not besto-w her smiles on wealth or
sudden success alone, but makes her home the nucleus of the
literary and gifted ones who, sooner or later, drift from all
parts of the world to the Capital City. Though gifted by
nature with charms of person and manner, yet the elegance
and culture which surround her are the result of long years
of association with the finest minds of the country. Her
limpid blue eyes, clear as the waters of Lake Tahoe in her
native State, have looked on nothing but happiness. No
sorrowful tears have ever marred their brilliancy, and yet
she feels sensitively the grief of her friends, and her sweet
sympathy, together with that of her husband, while in San
Francisco and afterwards in Washington, I fondly remember
and appreciate. This grand couple have no children of their
own, which seems a pity, since such high qualities should be
perpetuated. One day Judge Field said in Saij Francisco
that he should have loved such a daughter as my Maud, and
spoke of Maud's evident love for his charming wife, " Ah,"
said I, "but would you like to have her for vour very own
and then lose her?" "Yes," he replied, "and you should con
sider it a great blessing to have had her given to you for
eighteen years," I fully agree with him now. Many such
words spoken to me then have proved a source of consola
tion. This was on her birthday; her friends brought her
beautiful flowers, and looked at her with sad smiles. She
never saw another birthday on earth. The Field family are
perhaps quite as remarkable as any in our country, Stephen
J, Field, the illustrious Judge, is conceded to be one of the
very ablest and purest men who ever wore the ermine. He
was the choice of the highest element in both parties for the
mantle of the Chief-Justiceship after the death of Mr. Waite,
Mr. Crowley said at the rime that, had he been chosen, he

SAN FRANCISCO. 293
would have made the grandest one in our history. This
reminds me that Mrs. Grant once told me that it was her
profound admiration and appreciation of Mr. Conkling which
induced the President to offer him the Chief-Justiceship.
Perhaps it was the recollection of the high honor he had
once so carelessly waived aside, when honors were thick in
his path, that made him refuse with such bitter contempt the
lesser office proffered him later by the creature of his own
creation, Chester Arthur. Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.
The three brothers of the Justice, Cyrus W. Field, of
Atlantic Cable fame, and David Dudley Field, the venerable
lawyer, the eldest of the family, and the Rev. Henry
Field, editor of the Evangelist, are all living in New York
City, perfectly well and active as ever, with no thought of
resting on their oars. A very strong familv love binds them
together still, through all their busy years of renown. The
Judge is the handsomest and most elegant of them all, and is
wonderfully youthful in appearance, and his wife is the most
beautiful of a family noted in California for loveliness of
person and character. She was very young when she
became his bride, but time has endorsed the wisdom of her
choice, and the union is one of the happiest on earth.
Senator Sharon's famous country-seat, Belmont, so sadly
associated with the tragic death of Ralston, its former owner,
was then the scene of brilliant entertainment. For the sake
of giving Maud a change of scene, and also an opportunity
to meet some of the young people of San Francisco, he
made up a party of guests and gave them several days of
charming revel at Belmont. The host and hostess were the
celebrated " Duke" Gwin, the Ex-Senator of California, and
his wife, and no one would have dreamed the real owner of
all this magnificence to be the slight-figured, quiet, unassum
ing man who glided here and there like some pale shadow,
with not the least air of the ruler. I asked him, as I sat by
his side at dinner the first evening, if it was not a happy
thing to be the lord of Belmont. He replied in poetry, a
favorite habit of his, saying:
' ' Though gay companions o'er the bowl
Dispel awhile the sense of ill,
Though pleasure stirs the maddening soul,
The heart, the heart is lonely still."
Later on in the evening, when I saw him surrounded by a

294 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
group of maidens, beautiful as houris, and heard him mur
muring sweet love-words from Lalla Rookh, I thought his
heart was far from lonely at that hour, in the moonlight of
a matchless summer night, in that heavenly climate, and in a
palace which might have rivaled that of the Veiled Prophet
himself, of whom he was discoursing:
" We call thee hither, entrancing Power !
Spirit of Love ! Spirit of Bliss !
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour,
And there never was moonlight so sweet as this."
Maud was very happy that evening, and felt unusually
bright. She wore a white dress, with some lovely lilies the
young girls had gathered for her on our arrival. Her
partner at the table was a friend from Washington, whom
she was delighted to meet by a happy chance in this distant
place, Mr. Dudley E. Saurin, Her British Majesty's Secre
tary of Legation, a most fascinating and noble gentleman,
whom we shall ever gratefully remember. He has a faculty,
partly natural, and yet partly through long mingling with
the most cultivated people, of making one feel on first
acquaintance as though he had been known for years. That
elegance of manner, when accompanied by fine feeling and
a kind heart, is irresistible. Maud, herself so reserved, felt
completely at home in the genial presence of Mr. Saurin,
while at first she was a little bewildered with the bright
array of happy and healthful people on every side at the
gay country house. Oh, those beautiful young ladies at
Belmont ! I never in my life, before or since, saw so much
loveliness and sweetness grouped together in one house. No
wonder Senator Sharon dreamed himself a Persian prince,
with a harem of the flowers of Arabia clustered about him !
First came the two Brooks sisters. Belle and Margery — Belle
a charming blonde, with merry blue eyes and flaxen ringlets,
and Margery a stately maiden, with a wondrous coronal of
brown braids and a pale interesting face. I have not heard
from them since we parted, but I trust that they are happy,
for they turned aside from many a tempting prospect of
gayety to stay with Maud, and the light of their bright eyes'
gentle glances as they shone on her will go with me forever.
There was pretty Bessie Sedgwick, who had quite a record
for admiration, and Belle Wallace, who resembled Mrs.

SAN FRANCISCO. 295
Langtry, the English beauty, more than any one I ever saw,
and who has since made a marriage both happy and grand —
a rare thing, indeed ! She is worthy of it, for she is a sweet
girl, or, rather, I must suppose her to be a woman now — a
mother, too, perhaps. There was the handsome Sibyl
Sanderson, who has had already quite a romantic career,
and who sang charmingly. I can still hear her clear notes
ringing, as she sung this favorite song of that time:
" I think of all thou art to me,
I dream of what thou canst not be ;
My life is cursed with thoughts of thee.
Forever and forever !"
There were Miss Morgan, Miss McKinstry, Miss Bessie
Thornton and Miss Maggie Gwin, and the two daughters of
the Ex-Senator, Mrs. Coleman and Miss Gwin, to whom we
were indebted for so much that made our visit pleasant.
The ladies of the Gwin family are all very fine looking, and
have most perfect taste in matters of the toilet. They have
the gift of being dressed suitably for all hours of the day
and for all occasions. With their superb figures and grace
ful carriage all styles -were becoming. I did not wonder at
all that they were in such great demand, for they were the life
of every party, and extremely thoughtful for the comfort and
pleasure of their guests. Their home in the city was the
resort of the brightest, not only of home people, but of travel
ers fortunate enough to be presented. They were very
proud of their distinguished parents, and well they might be,
for California will not soon look upon their like again.
William M. Gwin was a great man, both physically and
mentally. In person he was like a giant oak that had grap
pled with a century of storms. Such strong characters
always meet with fierce opposition and censure, but it only
seems to add to their growth and draw attention to their vast
superiority. He would have made a great king or chief in
feudal times, for he was cast in that mold of which royal
conquerors are made. He towered above all others, a striking
and majestic figure, with his luxuriant snow-white hair, that
waved over his stern brow like a spotless plume, pointing the
way to victory. His life was one of the most stormy of
which we have a record. He was in sympathy with the
southern rebellion, and therefore his large estates were con-

296 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
fiscated, and he went over to France. There he was sought
out by the Emperor, who at once proffered an alliance, both
friendly and political. The ill-starred Maximilian wished to
make him Duke of Sonora, hence his title, which somehow
always seemed to suit him well, for he was born to leadership
and authority, and would have walked to the guillotine with
undaunted step and smiled in the verv face of death. On the
second evening of our stay at Belmont, " Duke " Gwin was
my companion at dinner, while Mrs. Gwin was accompanied
by Senator Sharon. This lady was a great belle and beauty
in Buchanan's administration, when her husband ^vas in the
Senate, and at her dinner table the most frequent and honored
guests were Daniel Webster and Henry Clay. The Presi
dent himself always attended her receptions, and she enter
tained with a rfegal splendor. Costly wines flo-wed then
more freely than in later days, and though, for some reason,
the change is a noble one, yet in other respects it seems to
me that the manners and the wit of those times were superior
to our own. Business, and not romance, check books and
not eloquence, carry the day now. O, temporal O, mores!
It was most interesting to me to hear Senator Gwin tell of
the memorable day on which W^ebster delivered his reply to
Hayne. His love and admiration for the great orator shone
in his flashing eyes, and the snowy crest which adorned his
massive head fairly shook with his excitement as he repeated
the thrilling words at the close : " Liberty and Union, now
and forever, one and inseparable." If the question occurs
here why Senator Gwin should have helped to try to sever
that Union, one can only say that consistency is the rarest of
all possible jewels. Why so great a mind could ever have
defended slavery, could ever have thought it right to inflict
such countless miseries on fellow-beings, because their skins
were darker than his own, will in this life always be a
mystery to me. God's image carved in ebony, as some one
says, is quite as sacred as in white, or yellow," or copper, or
any other shade. Many an earnest discussion did I have on
this subject with the old Senator, but not all the eloquence of
all the sages could ever convince me that it was or ever has
been right. Another theme on which he discoursed eagerly
was the ancient southern custom of dueling, which was in
early days quite frequent in California. I looked upon it as
murder unmitigated, and the most senseless way in the world
of avenging insulted honor. But " Duke " Gwin was like the

SAN FRANCISCO. 297
knights of old, who ever carried lance and bow, and were
ardent alike in love or hate. Such natures create warm
friendships and vindictive enmities. They suffer more and
enjoy more than the lesser souls can ever imagine. They are
sure to leave upon their times an unfading mark, and, though
often associated with strife, are surrounded by an atmosphere
of distinction that makes them much more interesting than
those who lead more peaceful and less envied lives. Hap
piest are the}- of whom almost nothing can be written ! His
only son, William M. Gwin, to whom he was tenderly
attached, was happily married to a very charming woman,
and I believe the family circle had only once been broken.
The old " Duke " was very fond of his children, and told me the
reason he was so deeply interested in Maud was that she
reminded him of a little daughter they had lost when in
Washington, who was but twelve years of age, and that sor
row seemed never to have faded from his mind. After all
those long years he described her traits of character, and her
fair promise of loveliness with all the eloquence of which he
was master, as if the wound were but of yesterday. He loved
to tell me also of the admiration his beautiful wife met with
in diplomatic circles of that time, and, indeed, I could readily
believe it, for she is a beautiful woman still, and possesses the
grand air which is more lasting than beauty. Senator
Sharon knew that the crowning charm of Belmont's festivi
ties was to win her to preside as hostess, with the stately old
chief, her husband, at her side. They were such a pair as
could be seen nowhere else, and under no other conditions.
They belonged to history, and there was about them a radi
ance of a brilliant past.
Senator Sharon's hospitality was conducted on a most
princely scale. You felt it at the very start, when you found
that your tickets for the train which took you there were
presented to you, and on reaching the station a vine-wreathed
char-a-banc, suggestive of woodland jollity, awaited you.
As you drive through the grounds, you are impressed by the
somber groves of cypress and laurel, the trees sacred to death
and victory. Perhaps the cypress, after all, is best, for its
branches droop over a heart at rest, and aching brows must
often wear the laurel. Again, it is denied to those most
fitted to be adorned with it. One of the ancient superstitions
regarding the laurel tree was that, if the leaves became
withered, a king would die. All the legends seem to con-

298 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
nect its crown with heroes, or bards. The one most rioted
in our time as laureate is Alfred Tennyson, and never did
one more proudly or fittingly receive the classic wreath.
Nothing could be more beautiful than "Maud" and "In
Memoriam." For years I have never traveled without a
little volume which contains these two, and also a small copy
of " Childe Harold." Tennyson, too, adored Byron in his
youth, and he now -writes that, when the mournful tidings of
his death was brought to England, he wandered off to the
woods and carved on a fallen trunk the words, " Byron is
dead," feeling that it must indeed be the end of all things.
" England, with all thy faults," thou hast still produced three
immortal bards, Byron, Tennyson and Shakespeare, and of
course countless others, but these are the bright, the re
fulgent, the dazzling stars. As Bob Ingersoll says, "they
have exhausted the language." The house at Belmont is
perfectly adapted for fetes and revels, having a fine ball
room and billiard-room, and a bowling-alley in the rear, and
plenty of saddle horses for the young people, and even habits
for the young ladies. Senator Sharon each morning pre
sented his fair guests with a wonderful bouquet of most
delicate tints, all selected from his conservatories and gardens.
There are many fine pictures at Belmont, and the prettiest of
all is one called the Spanish Coquette, in which the pic
turesque dress of that country is finely delineated.
Lovely music always added to the spell, and indeed every
thing proved that wealth is the modern magician, at the
waving of whose wand all things appear. Even love has
learned to obey, and certainly, in this Republic of glorious
power, no high position can be attained without this invoca
tion, this incantation, or whatever you choose to call it.
People have at last really solved the problem of serving both
God and Mammon. That is, they appear to do so. Roed-
erer, the favorite champagne of San Francisco, sparkled
freely at Sharon's banquets; and the luscious fruits of that
fertile country rivaled the most tempting creations of his
gifted chef — the fresh figs, the ruby cherries, the blushing
nectarines, and grapes of every hue, from the dark purple of
the Spanish to the opaline Tokay. No artist could pass
without the desire to place on canvas the wonderful color
ing of the fruits as they are arranged in tempting pyramids
in the shops of San Francisco. AHce went out early every
morning to select some, and Maud, on awaking, would find

SAN FRANCISCO. 299
at her bedside a dish charmingly arranged with a variety
which no other spot on earth could offer: plums of magical
bloom, side by side with pale strawberries; the rosy apricots,
which are celebrated all over the world ; the pomegranate,
with its lovely red blossoms sung by poets, and worn in
beauty's dark hair, and its "heart within blood tinctured,"
Among the guests at Belmont were James Flood, the bo
nanza king, and his daughter Jennie, a very pleasant and
attractive young lady. She wore a superb comb of topaz in
her brown hair, which attracted me like a magnet, for it is
one of my favorite jewels. Topaz is such a lovely yellow,
or rather a brilliant amber, and simply for adornment, and
aside from the intrinsic value, I prefer it to the diamond, the
ruby, the sapphire, or the emerald ! I should think a neck
lace of topaz would be the loveliest of all, though I never
happened to see one. Indeed, I never saw such a blaze of
topaz flame as there was in this comb worn by Miss Jennie
Flood. The word is derived from the Greek, and signifies
the sun, and was suggested because large numbers of the
gems were found in the isle of Topazos in the Gulf of
Arabia. Its amber hue is said to be emblematic of con
stancy in friendship or love. If the wearing of this jewel
could insure fidelity, what a mighty taHsman it would be!
It seemed to me that even the precious stones at San Fran
cisco sparkled with a more radiant luster than at the East,
they are so lavishly and carelessly worn, and are exhibited on
all sides in such shining array. The jewelers display their
priceless pearls and their diamonds of colossal value just as
gracefully to travelers, when they are frankly told there is
no thought of purchasing. It would be a pity if only the
favored few who can buy these costly gems were allowed to
feast their eyes on the rare splendors of color and Hght which
these wonders of nature hold imprisoned. We are told 'in
the Bible that the foundations of the new Jerusalem are
adorned with all manner of precious stones, and the topaz is
the ninth gem mentioned there, and the twelve gates are
twelve pearls, and the streets of the city are pure gold, "and
the gates thereof shall' not be shut by day, for there shall be
no night there." [
"Duke" Gwin was a great admirer of Justice Field and
fondly hoped to see him President. Mrs. Field was always,
with her distinguished husband, an honored guest at all the
beautiful country seats surrounding the city, Menlo Park and

300 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
the Crockers', and the MiHs', and many others. She already
held quite a little court of her own at Senator Sharon's
home, and she was the first one to whom the venerable Sen
ator presented me on our arrival, knowing we had met be
fore in Washington. This brilH^nt first visit at Belmont
came to an end at last, as all things will, and most fleetly the
best and brightest ; and we returned to our pleasant hotel, but
we carried with us our kind hosts. Senator Sharon and Ex-
Senator Gwin and his wife, for they had only gone there to
entertain the party, which they did several times in the
course of the season. On the day of our departure Maud
looked so much brighter that I was inspired with fresh hope,
and I asked Senator Sharon if he did not think she would
yet be weH. He answered, as he always did, in poetic
strain : ' ' The king of kings
Alone can stay life's parting wings."
I can still feel the thrill of fear that went through me as he
spoke, but I shook it aside, and again drank of the nepenthe
which some unseen power held forever to my lips. Ah!
now, that "distant Aidenn!" We had really deHghtful so
ciety at the hotel. One of the most superb women I ever
met was Mrs. D. C. Nicholls. She was very sympathetic,
and her noble husband, the Captain, as we called him, joined
with her in friendly attentions to us. I have always since
hoped to meet her again. She is a gifted woman, having a
highly cultivated voice and charming social abilities. These
qualities, added to her elegant appearance, make her ex
tremely distinguished whenever she appears. We met Mrs.
Charles McLaughlin, the wife of another of California's
millionaires, a very handsome woman, and a general favor
ite', -whose surroundings were luxurious in the extreme, and
whose only regret in Hfe was that she had no children to
share her splendors and her joys. We met the intimate
friends of the McLaughlins, Judge Ross and his wife, a
charming little woman, very kind and very fascinating, from
whom we parted also with real regret'. I have since learned
that the Judge and Mrs. Ross had gone to live at Los An
geles. And among the many changes which have taken
place since we left there, one of the first that came to our
ears, almost as soon as we reached our home, -was the news
of the death of Mr. McLaughlin. His wife, who was deeply

SAN FRANCISCO. 301
attached to him, never recovered from the shock, but died
suddenly not long since at the Fifth Avenue Hotel in New
York City. We met Mrs. John Corning, and Mrs. David
son, and the two sisters-in-law of Senator Jones, Mrs. Wat
son and Mrs. Bucknall, both lovely women, whom I should
dearly love to meet again, and Miss Haskin and Mrs. Henry
Gibbons. A few young officers, Riley, Warville, Webster
and Lieutenant Cotton, whom we had known in Washington,
were among those to whom we shall feel forever grateful,
for courtesy extended when far from one's home is deeply
appreciated and fondly remembered. Colonel Withington
and his wife, who lived at the Palace Hotel, and who were
also among the brilHant guests at Belmont, are fine speci
mens of the people of that cordial clime. It was afterwards
a real delight to meet them in New York, and it was with a
heart-throb of pleased surprise that we recognized the splen
did form and' handsome face of the Colonel amid the throng
who promenade Broadway. Mr, Crowley went out to join
us at San Francisco in July, taking with him our eldest son
Richard, then thirteen years old. They accompanied us
with a large number of friends to Belmont on the Fourth of
July, which was celebrated in truly patriotic style. A new
member of the party at that time was Mrs, J, Henley Smith,
a pretty and attractive lady who lived at the Occidental
Hotel, Though Mr, Crowley agreed with me as to the
beauty of the country of California, yet he said he never
could be contented long away from New York State, In
deed, he has, more than any one I ever saw, the attachment
for his native place, and is very vulnerable to home-sick
ness, that nostalgia which makes the stalwart Swiss pine for
his Alpine heights, his glaciers and his mountain air, and the
exile from Erin sigh for his "cabin-door, fast by the wild-
wood," John Howard Payne touched the one chord which
thrilled round all the world- when he sang his immortal bal
lad, " Home, Sweet Home," and one of Tom Moore's kne-
liest songs is, "The Dream of Home" :
" Who has not felt how sadly sweet
The dream of home, the dream of home,
Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet,
When far o'er sea or land we roam? "
It is pleasant in a strange land to meet old friends, so Mr.
Crowle}- at once sought out one of the companions of his

302 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
youth, Mr. H. D. Scripture, who had left Lockport for Cali
fornia manv vears before. He found him almost unchanged
in all wavs^ " I think almost the pleasantest meeting he had
with an old friend, however, was the one with Gen,
Edward Fitzgerald Beale, of Washington, and I am sure his
legions of friends will agree with me that to see his genial
face far from home would indeed be a satisfaction. He
proved a charming companion, in our visits to the theater
and to hear the far-famed San Francisco Minstrels. Wallack's
Company from New York were then playing the "Silver
King." It was just the play to attract the Californians, as it
was certainly no more romantic than the lives they had seen
in their midst, which would furnish many a glowing theme
for the dramatist or the poet. Rose Coghlan was the star,
and Osmond Tearle the hero of the piece, and he played
finely the r6le of the Silver King, Maud had seen Rose
Coghlan at Long Branch the year before, and when she
heard that the actress she so nluch admired was stopping at
the same hotel and on the same floor with us, and finding the
time dull because the physician had ordered quiet, she begged
me to go and see Miss Rose and ask her to visit her, I did
so with some trepidation, for I had never met her, but I knew
if she was as kind-hearted as all other members of the pro
fession whom I had met, she would respond to this plaintive
call from a sick child. As I told her my errand, and how
Maud longed to see her again on the stage, she seemed to
feel and pity the hopes and fears struggling for utterance,
and to realize that in gratifying Maud's wishes I was anxious
at the same time not to endanger her fragile strength. The
tears came to her eyes and she replied : " Of course I will
come and see the dear child, to-morrow, after rehearsal."
And so she did, and her visit proved a veritable tonic, for
Maud brightened like a flower in the sunshine, and per
suaded her indulgent doctor Bruner to let her go to the
theater. The kind actress even consented to play, for Maud's
sake alone, the "Romance of a Poor Young Man." How
happy Maud was that night, in the box with some dear
friends of the year before in Washington, Lieutenant Hein and
his wife, formerly Miss Sallie Ross, a -well-known belle. It
was Miss Rose Coghlan's benefit night, and the city had
been rifled of its flowers, so when Maud and I went out in
the morning to find some roses, we found that every Jacque
minot, every Marechal Niel, every rose of every name and

SAN FRANCISCO. 303
hue was bespoken for the Rose of the Drama. So, in despair,
for Maud would have no other flower on that day, we turned
away when a little French woman, touched as all people were
by the lovely face, relented and said: "I will go home to
my garden, and pick the little rosebuds for you of every
color I have," So she sent to us later a most wonderful
collection of exquisite rosebuds, dewy and sweet, with many
a lovely tint, from glowing ruby to softest pink, and spotless
white. So, at the scene Maud loved the best, the sweet
offering was flung at the feet of the actress. And never in
all the triumphs of her life could she have a purer gift. And
I know that she does not forget Maud Crowley.
One of the young officers whom we had met at Washing
ton, Lieutenant Cotton, at this time at the Presidio, is associated
with recollections of the stage. He once brought with him
to call upon us John McCullough, who was deHghtful in con
versing and recounting the varied experiences of starring
through the world. I think the finest tribute to the great
actor was written by William Winter, who read it at the
dedication of the monument at Mount Moriah Cemetery,
Philadelphia, November 28, 1888. I will here quote one
verse, which I specially like :
" There's no grand impulse, no revealing
In all the glorious world of art,
There's no sweet thought or noble feeling
That throbbed not in thy manly heart !
There's no strong flight of aspiration.
No reverent dream of realms divine,
No pulse, no thrill, no proud elation
Of god-like power, that was not thine."
These words might fitly apply to many in that profes
sion, for there are no people so ready to proffer aid in dis
tress as they, and it seems as though the noble sentiments
they repeat from the great writers become their mottoes and
beliefs, and give them a sweet religion of their own, free
from all cant, and yet closely following in the footsteps of
Christ and his beloved disciples. Many surprises await us
in Eternity, and one, I think, will be that we shall see many
straight-laced hypocrites unmasked, while others, scorned in
this world, will be arrayed in spotless white, and dwell for
ever among- the redeemed and blest.

304 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.-
" We shall know as we are known.
Never more to walk alone.
In the dawning of the morning
When the mists have rolled away."
Closely connected in all hearts with the memory of Mc
Cullough, will forever be the faithful friendship of his former
manager, Capt. William Conner, now proprietor of the
St. James Hotel, New York City. Among all the public
men I have met in Washington or elsewhere, there are none
more gentlemanly and more noble than Captain Conner, or
Billy, as his intimate friends call him. His house is now the
headquarters for the editors of this state, as he was formerly
of their profession. Thus it will be seen that he has had a
diversified career, and one which brought him into contact
with the brightest classes of minds, writers, actors, politicians
and all. He had for many years as a frequent guest the
most brilliant editor western New York ever knew, James
N. Matthews. Ah! Never again will that wit enliven the
board! Never more shall friends clasp that generous hand!
The glory of Erie has departed, and when I recall the fiash-
ing satire, the tender pathos of his pen, I am always reminded
of a favorite verse of Roscoe ConkHng, himself a near and
intimate friend of the great editor.
" There is not such a lance as thine
In all the ranks of Spain "
Mr. Conkling repeated this line the last time I ever saw
him in this world. Thackeray often mentions in his match
less romances, " Esmond " and " The Virginians," the great
names of those who frequented certain inns in London and
other English towns. But what a romance would be written
of a house like the St. James, or the Fifth Avenue! If one
could only tell the truth, it would readily be seen that fiction
to paint in glowing colors must dip the brush into the palette
supplied by real life itself. Great hotels are always associated
with unexpected meetings of dear friends, and of enemies
sometimes, for insignificant, indeed, is he who has none. At
the Occidental, just opposite the Palace, in San Francisco,
we had the great pleasure of meeting our old friend, Col.
George L. Febiger, of Washington, and his lovely wife and
daui^hter. Bertha was a constant source of comfort to Maud
and Alice in their exile. It was a joy to be with them, as

SAN FRANCISCO. 305
they were almost the happiest people I ever saw, fairly beam
ing with life, good humor and kindness to every one. I be
lieve they are now stationed at New Haven, and I hope their
lines will always be in pleasant places. Lieut. Hein was
stationed at the Presidio, immortalized by Bret Harte in his
poems. Lone Mountain Cemetery, too, he has well described :
' ' Here come the argosies,
Blown by each idle breeze.
To and fro shifting;
Yet to the hill of Fate
AU drawing, soon or late.
Day by day drifting."
Years ago the young niece of United States Senator
Stanford, the daughter of Senator Stanford, of Albany, said,
on visiting this place, that evidently the rich jDCople of San
Francisco had not yet had occasion to turn their thoughts to
it. Yet noted argosies have floated there since then, and
many a stately shaft and towering monument tells of the
doom no gold could buy away, James Flood, of bonanza
fame, must now sleep there, and he is greatly missed from
the city of his strange career. He was remarkable for his
devotion and constancy to his family, and his boundless
hospitality. He was a good looking man in the double
sense, that is, if good looking means looking good, for he had
a countenance expressive of fine qualities. That he managed
his large business affairs with much skill is well known. His
loss to his family must be irreparable, Maud insisted on
paying a. visit to Lone Mountain, and, though I shrank from
allowing it, it did not seem to cause her the slightest pain.
She said it reminded her of all she had read of Rome, for
the cypress, the " dark tree " of death, so chosen because,
when once cut, it will not grow again, was native and lux
uriant there. It is not the young who turii away from the
grim Memento Mori, but rather those to whom life has been
most unkind, and from whom the fleeting years have stolen
beauty, health and friends. Could death be more cruel than
life hath been? Mr. Crowley was rejoiced to meet an old
friend, Mr. Harvey D. Talcott, whose home was then at
Hazel Mount, Saucelito, and whose wife kindly came to visit
us. We also met Congressman Calkins, whom President
Harrison appointed Judge of Washington Territory. It
is always pleasant to hear of the deserving meeting with

3o6 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
a proper reward, and in this instance Mr. Crowley said the
choice was most excellent. We met in San Francisco the
Rev. Mr. Abercombie, a former pastor of the Episcopal
Church at our native town, and part of his family. As we
had known and liked them very much during their stay in
Lockport, we were glad to meet them again. The pretty
Martha, now Mrs. Redfield, was as charming as ever, and
the kind old minister, her father, tried to warn me gently of
the coming blow, for he, too, had been smitten in the same
sad way, his only son, a young man of rare promise and great
amiability of character, having been taken away. from him
not long before. Though he still grieved bitterly over
James' untimely death, he was so reconciled to the Divine
will that I felt the contrast with the rebellion in my heart
that would not be repressed, when I contemplated even the
possibility of separation from my. child. Through the in
sight born of his own great suffering, he -was able to read
much that was then hidden from me; for love is blind, and
those who love most deeply are the blindest of all. Since
then all things have been revealed to him who -waited with
such patient faith, I noted with regret a few days since his
departure from this world. And yet why regret? For
there were dear ones waiting, and he was so good and true
that he must be happy now with "Jamie" and the little
daughter who died so long ago.
Maud was very fond of looking at the curious Chinese
ornaments, the tapestries, and especially the portraits. The
famous Ichi Ban's is the principal emporium for these things,
and yet many choice articles of artistic beauty can be found
at a very low price in Chinatown. Of course we could not
take Maud with us there as, owing to the density of the
population, the air was much too close, but Mr. Crowley and
our son, Richard, myself and a party of friends visited there
one evening. We found the Chinese theater the principal
place of interest, with the strange, discordant shrieking of the
actors, their costly and gorgeous costumes, and the seemingly
absurd character of the plays. It is a positive torture to
listen to their musical instruments. In fact the only art seems
to be expended upon the dress, which is fantastic, barbarous
and evidently very expensive. In the Joss-house, their place
of worship, are grotesque images. One is called the " good
devil," and another the " bad devil," and many others repre
sent .special divinities to be propitiated by constant offerings

SAN FRANCISCO. 307
at their shrines. These gifts consist generally of rice, tea
and sometimes whisky, and the ministering votaries declare
gravely that all these things are consumed in the night, and
must be devoutly renewed in the morning. They tell you
this with all the earnestness of the true believer. The national
religion of China is Buddhism, but Confucius, their great
philosopher, has still many believers, and there are no-w
among them many Roman Catholics, and also a number of
Mohammedans or Moslem. The Chinese ideas of how
health or fortune may be dealt out are very queer. A ^-ase
full of slender sticks of sandal-wood quaintly traced in hiero
glyphics is placed before you. No matter what your disease
may happen to be, you are to take the number indicated and
go to the doctor, and he will give you the medicine specified.
No diagnosis is supposed to be necessary at all. From the
Urn of Fortune the cabalistic tablets are dispensed in the same
way, or rather in a simpler way. There are supposed to be
three degrees, the best, the good, the bad. The truth of
these mysterious degrees will be at once manifest, when I
say that I always drew the best! However, I am still hoping
for my good fortune, being of that class which Dryden
describes :
" None would live past years again,
Yet all hope pleasure from what yet remain,
And from the dregs of life think to receive
What the first sprightly running could not give."
When we returned from our last lovely visit to Belmont,
Mr. Crowley and myself were charmed to find, attached to
a basket of superb Queen Anne cherries, the cards of some
dear home friends, Mr, and Mrs. Frank De Long. The
daughter of the celebrated Judge Lamont, and the nephew
of the equally distinguished Judge Bowen, have found in
this golden land a beautiful and happy home. The horn of
plenty might be their shield, for all things on their immense
ranch at San Raphael are constructed on a colossal scale.
We spent a few days with them and were surprised to find,
just across the Bay of San Francisco, a complete change of
climate, and positively warm weather instead of the cool
breezes of the great city. I never even imagined such huge
dairies before, and to see butter in such enormous quantities
made me really covetous. And how Maud enjoyed the
warm fresh mHk her kind hostess sent her every morning!

3o8 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
She always said it was the nicest she ever tasted, and I have
no doubt that, aside from the perfect care of the cows and
the luxurious herbage, the strange and romantic surround
ings had much to do with the enjoyment of it. We drove
through long groves of huge laurel trees, and Fanny, that is,
]Mrs. De Long, told me that their peculiar odor would cure
a headache, but that it would also cause one, somewhat on
the principle which makes the foundation of homeopathy,
Similia similibus curantur. It may have been my imagi
nation, for the thought that I was indeed inhaling the odor
of the immortal tree, Apollo's fabled love, and to feel its
classic branches sweep over my brows as we passed into the
dense shade, was enough to cause the blood to mount into
the brain, and make one feel as Byron did at Mount Parnas
sus. Like the noble bard, I, too, wished some memorial to
bear home with me, and I carried a-way branches enough to
decorate many a hero, but, alas! I lost them, and ever since
have wished for more, hoping that in them there might be
inspiration. Our favorite drive at San Francisco was
through the lovely park, with its glowing parterres of
flowers, to the Cliff House, which stands on a towering
craggy summit overlooking the beautiful harbor called the
Golden Gate. Here my husband's coldness to the charms of
California melted, and before this enrapturing scene he
surrendered his decision that this wondrous country could
boast of nothing so fair as his own. He declared the view
to be the finest he ever looked on, and for hours watched the
seals reclining and disporting on the great rocks that rise
here from the blue waves of the Pacific, or gazed afar into
the distance at the Farallone Islands.
At last the bright skies, the balmy air, the sweet flowers
and the luscious fruits palled, as all things earthly will, and
Maud grew restless as her friends one by one departed for
the eastern land of her birth. With regretful feelings inde
scribable, we prepared to leave the city where we had received
such a heart-felt, cordial welcome and so much kind
sympathy. Our dear Doctor Bruner, Senator Jones and his
sister, Mrs, Lester, came with us across the bay, and we
were accompanied almost all the way home by Mr, Crosby
Whitman and several other young collegians, on their
way to Harvard College, Senator Jones had often told us
of his dear young friend, the son of Judge Whitman, of Gold
Hill, and it certainly proved a sweet drop in that bitter part-

GENERAL GRANT. 309
ing cup to feel assured of his delightful company; nor were
our anticipations in the least disappointed in that regard,
Agnes Lester, the invalid niece of the Senator, was suffering
from heart disease, and it was not considered prudent to
subject her to the excitement of a parting scene. It was
destined that Maud and Agnes should never meet again on
earth, but they have long since met in Paradise, where their
pure souls were best fitted to dwell! We are to be with
many of our dear friends in Washington in the ensuing
winter, and so to them 'tis but a brief adieu; but to thee, O,
San Francisco! it is a last farewell to thy shining shores.
Our visit to thee was like Indian summer to the year, beauti
ful with a dreamy haze overshadowing it all. Beautiful in
a sense of the love of kind hearts, of surroundings like Eden
before the exile; beautiful, above.all, in the companionship
of my adored child, with whose image the fair memory of
those scenes is blent, a pleasure which is mine no more!
Many another foot shall press that enchanted ground, many
an eye brighten at its loveliness, many a ship from far distant
lands enter the Golden Gate, but from that country whither
Maud and Agnes have sailed there comes not the slightest
ripple of the wave, not the lightest flutter of a sail, not the
faintest sound of celestial melody!
' ' And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill,
But, oh ! for the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still. ' '

CHAPTER XII.
General Grant.
" Like sunset gleams, that linger late
When all is darkening fast.
Are hours like these we snatch from fate,
The brightest and the last."
The seventh anniversary of that last winter at Washing
ton with Maud is fast approaching, and many an eye that
looked fondly on her is now closed in death, while others
that we knew have separated far and wide, and such changes
have come into their fives that it would be impossible they

3IO ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
should ever meet under one roof again here. She enjoyed
meeting, on her Teturn from California, her Lockport friends
of childhood's days, especially Kate and Lizzie Carter,Jennie
Daniels, Mina Clarke and Mollie Dickerson, They have
nearly all changed their names since then, but I speak of
them as Maud' knew^ them. The Carters she had loved
almost from her infancy, and I always feel that she will ever
be to them a sweet and lovely memory, and that, no matter
how many footsteps cross the threshold of their hospitable
door, they will still fondly recall the one light step they
never can hear, the bright face that will never come again.
There are some hearts we know will cherish our memories,
while others, though they loved us once, can not help
forgetting. In ancient Greece were said to be two
fountains, one for memory-, and the other for oblivion, and of
the travelers who sought them some would drown all their
sorrows in Lethe's dark waves, while otliers would quaff
deeply of the bright fountain of memory, preferring to keep
the past, with all its woes, rather than lose the power to
recall each brief hour of bliss. But these last were fewer, and
the multitude sought rather forgetfulness. And thus it is
to-day. After the glorious red banners of the autumn had
fallen, and the snow lay thick around her loved home, she
drooped and pined for the softer airs, and the dear friends at
Washington, some of whom she had but recently left in San
Francisco. Mr. Crowley, though his term in Congress had
just expired, could not resist her appeals, added to the warnings
of physicians, and so, just after the holidays, we were very
pleasantly settled at the Arlington once more. Our host, Mr.
Roessle was so thoughtful and kind in his attentions, that Maud
felt as much at home as in her father's house; in fact, she
always loved him dearly. To crown all, Mrs. Jones was to be a
guest there also, for the Senator had grown tired of his great
house on Capitol Hill, and brought his family to the hotel,
that he might live altogether without care for awhile. And
so we met them several times each day, and even now I
never see those lovely pink roses, called " La France," that
I do not think of Mrs. Jones and all her sweetness, and see
her coming into Maud's room, with a bunch of them in her
hand, and a charming smile which always brought an
answering one to the face of my darling. It was a delight
to see the Fields again, though we had the pleasure of meet
ing them at Buffalo and Lockport just before, when Mrs,

GENERAL GRANT. 311
Field was visiting her sister, Mrs, Condit Smith. Surely
changes began early that year in our cherished circle, for
Mr. Smith was carried away suddenly, after a brief illness,
and this cast a shadow over the brilliant life of the wife of
the great jurist, who felt deeply that her sister's happiness
should be so rudely broken. There were dear Mrs. Logan,
and the dear General, and charming Mrs. Tucker, and little
Logan, and the General's son, all so kind, and, O, how glad
Maud was to see them once more! I have found many false
and ungrateful, and arn somewhat disposed to rail at this
world, and call it only a place of probation, but, when I think
of Mrs. Logan, I at once admit there are some angels here
whose mission it is to brighten and console, and who redeem
the race, and illumine the time in which they live.
Emory Storrs, the celebrated lawyer of Chicago, was
there a great deal during that season, being interested in the
passage of certain bills before the House and Senate. We
met him every day, as he was an old friend of Senator Jones,
and dined with him constantly. I found him not only pos
sessed of a great and tender heart, but one of the most
brilliant intellects as well. His droll way of telling stories
was inimitable. He became ardently interested in Maud, and
every morning sent her a cluster of the lovely white Ascension
Lilies, with a few words of inquiry as to her health, couched
in most eloquent language. He was so genial, and so
sympathetic, and held out so much hope to me, that his
memory is one of the brightest and finest of that time. Like
all sparkling characters, he was subject to fits of profound
depression. This is not surprising to those who have known
much of life, for we see constant examples on all sides. It
is related of a celebrated French comedian that he once went
to a skilled physician and begged for some remedy for the
terrible malady of ennui and gloom which overpowered him.
The doctor advised him to divert his mind, and told him the
best thing to effect that purpose would be to go to the theater
and hear Monsieur Blanc. "Alas!" cried the poor patient,
"I am 'myself that unhappy man!" Thus it is that the
masks are worn on and off the stage. When I was a child
at school I remember being impressed with this sentence from
Lamartine, in French exercises: " A smile on the lips and
death in the heart is often the fate of a woman of the world."
I believe there is absolutely no idea to be found in the face as
to the state of the mind. People have been known to jest on

3X2 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
the eve of suicide, to sing gay songs just before a battle,
when the presage of impending disaster was strong within
their souls. The nonchalant bearing disguises many a dread.
Who could have read, in the proud and beautiful Lady
Dedlock's face, the signal of her approaching doom, or the
possibility of a guilty secret beneath such solid prosperity?
Hawthorne deHcately and darkly hints at the burning of
Hester's " Scarlet Letter " when she drew near some spotless
matron, or soine rigid Puritan magistrate, who would have
enjoyed condemning the detested sinner to the stake. A
curious thing in life is the lack of mercy. Those of high
degree may break all the commandments in secret, but woe
to the luckless wretch who commits the unpardonable sin
of being found out. I have noticed this, not only in the
behavior of women to each other, which is proverbially harsh,
except on the part of the absolutely pure women, who are
always angels of charity to the erring; but it is true among
politicians that those who really are or have been most dissi
pated and dishonorable themselves are totally mej-ciless to
others who do precisely the same things, if they happen to
be under the cloud of failure, it matters not from what cause.
The hardest man I ever saw was one whose true story, if
written, would cause that of Aaron Burr to grow dim and be
forgotten. Often a person in high station is indebted for the world's
good opinion of him to the fact that the world knows him
not as he really is. There is a Persian proverb which says
that, if the best man's faults were written on his forehead, he
would at once draw his hat over his brows. A perpetual,
smile not only may hide despair within, but it may also serve
to conceal a cruel nature. Shakespeare has said that a man
may smile and be a villian, and Dickens, describing one of
his most contemptible characters, Carker, dwells upon his
gleaming white teeth, constantly displayed. The hateful
Judge Pyncheon, in the " House of the Seven Gables," who
fairly beemed upon the people in the streets, and whose radi
ant looks would ripen the fruits and cause the flowers to
open, could plot the overthrow of a man's whole life, and
instigate a murder with the same coolness with which he
ordered his dinner, or took his place at the communion-table
on Sunday. O, Christianity! how many'* wicked souls have
worn thy outward seeming! It was believed by the ancients
that the gods gave to mankind, in order to enable them to

GENERAL GRANT. 313
I
bear their innumerable tortures, the power to conceal their
real sufferings. I remember, the first time Mr. Conkling
came to Lockport, I said to him that surely he must be per
fectly happy, for fame had come to him early with her
glowing garlands, and the world was all smiling in response
to his slightest words. He replied with a great deal of
expression: " If every heart's unwritten care
Were stamped upon the brow,
How many would our pity share
Who move our envy now !"
I did not so readily believe then, as I do now, that a tremend
ous penalty is exacted for every shade and variety of success.
Who can doubt this who has known or seen in close com
panionship those whom the world vainly imagine to be
wholly satisfied ? Thackeray's closing words in " Vanity
Fair" are among the truest ever written, though they but
echo those of Solomon: Vanitas Vanitatum. Oh, you who
have reached the very pinnacle of your ambition, what but
sudden fall or slow decay can await you next? Or per
haps the loss of some loved one, without whom pleasure or
fame were as one? Oh, you who have on some one child
placed too much love and pride, gaze not on that beauty, feel
no thrill at the splendor of that genius, or the spoiler will
snatch it from you. Hope not to keep that child, seek not to
attain that proud height, for 'tis true, as an old Latin poet said,
that the bitterest drops are mingled in joy's most delicious
cup. Even fame is too capricious a goddess to come early
enough in life to make her wreaths worth wearing. She
waits till the brown curling locks are gray, and the bright
eye dimmed, and the bounding step feeble and slow. Ah,
why could she not respond to the youth's eager wooing, and
offer the nectar of success to fresh young lips? Why not
come ere we have discovered that our dearest companions are
envious, and that we are, as we go on, more and more alone ?
General Grant and his wife spent some time at the Arling
ton that winter. Among the many strange coincidences was
the fact that -we never saw the General on earth again. He
was looking exceedingly well, and there was no outward
evidence that Fate had made up her mind to send him some
of the most cruel sorrows in contrast with the glories of his
glittering prime. But, though she could take from him both

314 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
health and fortune, the memory of his great victories and his
peerless qualities of heart and soul were beyond her caprice.
Even at the last she relented towards her favorite son, and
restored power to the failing hand, and gave to the great
mind the blessing of endowing his loved ones with the fruits
of his genius, a heritage doubly precious, a victory snatched
from the very jaws of defeat, with Death standing grimly by,
in wait for one of the grandest men who ever obeyed his
summons. As stars shine on through the ages, while tapers
expire in an hour, so must the thought of Grant's great mind
be in the recollection of men, when they compare him with
the numerous ephemeral creatures of circumstances, who al-
lo^v a brief period of prosperity to turn their brains to that
degree that they are intolerable, not only to those who knew
them before, but even to those whose favor they seek to gain
by being false to early friends. The General's manner was
precisely the same to those in or out of power. Money
never was one of his idols. He had a profound contempt for
the petty vanity sho-wn by people who chanced to -wake up
and find themselves famous. In fact, of the three classes
described by Shakespeare, those who are born great, those
who achieve greatness, and those who have greatness thrust
upon them, I think the latter class are the most insufferable
by far. Any one, who has chanced to meet the members
of royal families or of the highest circles of the nobility, will
almost always bear witness that they are affable in manner,
seemingly unconscious of their rank, and gentle to inferiors.
To those who achieve greatness from the god-like power
.within themselves, which coinpels obstacles to vanish, and
before which defeat and disaster turn aside and dare not
strike, all mankind willingly render tribute. To admire such
natures is involuntary and inevitable. They command at
once the homage of a world. But to those on whom great
ness is forced, though they may be surrounded by the
parasites always found where thrift may follow fawning,
there will never come the true reverence of the heart, the
love which men felt for Napoleon, for Casar, for Grant,
which made death for them sweet and desirable. There are
countless multitudes in all ages to whom the hero's approving
smile is worth more than all that successful mediocrity can
bestow. General Grant's tour around the world had been an
unequaled ovation. Crowned heads had laid aside the tradi
tional reserve and seclusion, guarded and enjoined by cen-

GENERAL GRANT. 315
furies of custom, to show bim honor, ^et all this incense
never for a moment clouded or intoxicated the most level
brain in the world. The pageantry of courts did not dazzle
him, nor the attentions of monarchs flatter him. In some
of the deHghtful conversations I had with him, when, late in
the evening, after ceremonious guests had departed, I en
joyed the never-to-be-forgotten pleasure of visiting Mrs.
Grant and her husband alone, he expressed himself on this
subject to me with frankness and interest. He said it was a
matter of much surprise to him to observe the manner in
which "that man across the Park," as he called Arthur, con
ducted himself at his receptions, and even at dinners given
to honored guests. He told me that, when he went there
with Mrs. Grant to dine, both they and the friends invited
to meet them were compelled to wait some time before their
host appeared upon the scene. Then the band, having been
previously instructed to play "Hail to the Chief," he saunt
ered along, without saluting any one for some moments, ap
parently to give those present a chance to survey the elegant
person of the " President." This posing inspired nothing but
disgust in those who distinctly remembered having seen the
Chief Magistrate under very undignified circumstances, but
then, of course, it goes without saying that he would not
pardon the slightest delinquency on the part of others for
that very reason.
In reading John Russell Young's delightful book,
"Around the World with General Grant," your fancy is
actually beguiled into the belief that you have taken the
journey with them. It is the best book of travel I have ever
read, which is no small statement for me to make, as I have
always been a spell-bound reader of just these special works,
as well as of romances and poetry. If one is not so fortu
nate as to be able to visit those historic and alluring places,
then the next best thing is to read Mr, Young's charming
work. It has also the great advantage of being beautifully
illustrated, so that I consider it a perfect treasure in every
way. It treats of one of my most admired heroes, and I
always have found Mrs, Grant to be just what the writer
describes her to be, sweet, and courteous, and thoughtful
for every one's comfort, and I agree with him in thinking
the marriage and home life of General Grant a perfect one,
and that the wife of the great man was in all ways worthy
of her high destiny. This book causes us to reflect anew

3i6 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
on the constant changes in this crumbling world. The
whole story is so vividly told that, in imagination, v\e gaze
on the ruin that once was Thebes; we see then the vanishing
traces of imperial splendor trodden upon and plundered by
conquering hordes. The turbaned Turk, the dark Egyp
tian, each appears in turn, now victorious, and again van
quished. We see at Delhi the famous Peacock Throne,
with its dazzling gems, its rubies, and emeralds, and diamonds
blazing with all their mysterious fire, and its strange
inscription in Persian characters, which literally transcribed
is, " Oh, if there be an elysium on earth, it is this, it is
this!" But there is no elysium on earth, as the forlorn con
dition of this seat of forgotten monarchs now testifies, speak
ing eloquently in contrast with its once barbaric splendor.
The Persians were a little in advance of the English in this
instance, and carried off those wondrous jewels. Grant seems
to have been specially interested in the buried cities of Pompeii
and Herculaneum. Indeed, it must be a solemn thought that
sne is walking on the streets where sleeps the dust of buried
ages! The glory of Pompeii has gone, and the beauty of Her
culaneum has vanished ! Ages have rolled by since those places
were thronged with life, and now the dead alone are there.
Forms strong and beautiful moved through those echoless
streets and occupied those once gorgeous palaces. Warm,
noble hearts beat there, eyes flashed with the fire of intellect,
and lips long mute moved with the all-commanding power
of eloquence. Now all are ashes. But there are other
silent cities, which are scattered far and wide over all the
earth. Their lowly mounds and lofty monuments are seen
in every land. They are the homes which mother earth
gives to her children when, in the innocence of childhood or
the weariness of age, they sink to rest upon her bosom.
Silently all repose alike, the high, the low, the rich and the
poor. The grave hath no titles among its sleeping millions.
Death hath no palace but the coffin, no purple save the shroud.
All wear it and slumber on. Age is there, youth is there, and
infancy in its guileless sleep. Earth weaves her grassy mantle
over the beautiful and the gifted, and the lovely form is dust, and
the voice of genius is hushed forever. She folds alike in her
long embrace the devotees of Mammon and the votaries of
Pleasure. Truly may we exclaim with Burke, " What
shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue ! " Guilt looks
upon those still chambers as the openings to a dark and

GENERAL GRANT. 317
dreaded future, while religion sees in them but the pathway
to a better land. The tide of life is ever flowing onward
to eternity, bearing youth and beauty, wealth and fame, alike
in its never-varying course. How the fleet of souls is an
chored we know not, but hope and trust in the promises of
our Lord. After "the fever called Hving" the unbroken
slumbers of the narrow house seem welcome, for faith whis
pers that the morn cometh to the sleeper, and the freed spirit
enters upon a brighter world than ours. Earth's silent cities
now claim her sleeping children, but when the last trumpet
sounds, it is written that they shall give up their dead. Earth
has her silent cities, cities of the ages gone, and every clime
the silent cities of the dead, but the silent cities of the heart
who shall number? Who may wander amid the graves in
human minds? Who disentomb long-buried hopes and joys?
No stranger's foot may tread the sacred walks, no stranger's
eye gaze on its costly wrecks. The present safely hides
them from the view, but the soul lingers lovingly with its
dead, and oft a tear, the glancing of an eye, the trembling of
a leaf, or the mellow lustre of the autumn light, charms into
being and to former glory the buried treasures of the past.
We may not know what glorious cities hope and love have
planned, what georgeous temples they have reared for the
indwelling of affection's idol, blotted from existence by the
burning lava-tide of passion, and sleeping now beneath the
ashes of disappointment. One alone knoweth, and in that
faultless record of our lives, kept by His hand, no thing of
beauty unforgotten lies. As to the earth, so to the soul, shall
come a resurrection, and the graves shall give up their dead.
Our treasures shall be truly ours. All who are familiar with
the story of Ulysses and his wanderings, as described in
Homer's bewitching strains, must have thought of it in con
nection with the travels of Grant and his friends. We won
der what his musings were, standing on the spot where the
Trojans fought: " The desert of old Priam's pride.
The tombs, sole relics of his reign.
All save immortal dreams that could beguile
The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle."
All about the Mediterranean Sea seems full of romance
and poesy, the yEolian Isles, near the shores of which were
Scylla and Charybdis, destined to be used as illustrations in

3i8 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
¦warnings of danger forever, and the terrible volcano of
Stromboli, wrapped in clouds and mystery. Ulysses Grant
passed safely by the enchanted coast of the sirens — no need
of the wax prescribed by the goddess Circe to fill his ears.
Who more carefully avoided the rock of Scylla, where the
six-headed monster swallowed up her prey, and the whirl
pool of Charybdis, with its roaring chasms? Did the gods,
who smiled upon his birth and his great career, present him,
as well as his ancient namesake, the hero of antiquity, with
the talismanic moly to ward off evil spells? But, alas! in
later years the charm was broken, and the wild waters of
Charybdis engulfed him, for a brief time only, to be sure, as
after the rescue from those cruel waves his fame shone
brighter than before. Not even death in its most painful
form eclipsed that glorious star. More favored than the
Penelope of old was Julia Grant, the wife of this modern
Ulysses. No sorcerer's charm, no fabled lotos dream, no
siren's song could ever lure him from her side. No hopeless
web has she been forced to weave, and no dark threads came
until the very last turning of the loom. I think the memory
which will linger longest in the reader's mind is the descrip
tion of Grant at Jerusalem, under the " Tree of Agony " at
Gethsemane. He believed, from the proofs given him there,
that it was the identical tree under which our Savior stood
in that awful hour, nearly two thousand years ago, and why
should it not be, since the age of olive trees is almost unlim
ited? Even the oak will stand three-hundred years, and
many other trees flourish through longer time. Even in
looking on the map and tracing out the path through which
Jesus trod, there is a deep thrill, felt about no other spot in
the globe. Jerusalem, in Palestine, in the country of Syria,
what a power is in those names! And the Jordan, and the
Dead Sea, and the place of the Crucifixion! The darkness
that came upon the earth enshrouds the mind in the effort to
recall the distant, yet familiar, figures of that vanished and
awful time. Vanished, yet ever remembered, and ever re
newed, since 'tis meant to be an example of human life, and
to show that it could be borne, and would yet be redeemed.
For all souls some day must come, each to his own Gethse-
.mane. " AU.those who journey, soon or late,
Must pass within the garden's gate;
Must kneel alone in darkness there
And battle with some fierce despair.

GENERAL GRANT. 319
God pity those who can not say,
' Not mine, but thine,' who only pray,
' Let this cup pass,' and can not see
The purpose of Gethsemane."
There have been great minds and holy lives in the follow
ers of ancient creeds before the Hght "of Christianity illu
mined the world. It is very interesting to read about the
various beliefs which have held sway in different lands.
Just now in Asia the people are divided into Buddhists,
Brahmins and Moslem. Edwin Arnold has shed a glory
over the beautiful history of Lord Buddh in his wonderful
poem, "The Light of Asia." In Persia and Bombay there
are the Ghebers, whose favorite prophet was the Zoroaster,
of whom Marion Crawford has recently written so delight
fully. Moore, the sweet bard of Erin, in his enchanting
tale of the Fire-Worshipers, tells of this strange race of
beings, those slaves of fire, who, morn and eve,
' ' Hail their Creator's dwelling-place
Among the living lights of heaven."
Palestine is now ruled by the Turks, who still worship Ma
homet, with the Koran's ideas of Paradise, Why does not
some new knight appear to lead a crusade and rescue that
sacred country? Egypt, too, is under tribute to Turkey,
though nominally ruled by the Khedive, and there a variety
of creeds holds sway. In early tiines the Egyptians wor
shiped idols. Iris, Osiris and others, and the scarabeous, a kind
of beetle, was their emblem of immortality and was placed
with the dead in their sacred tombs, and is now frequently
seen wherever mummies are exhibited. There are now many
Copts, sometimes called Jacobite Christians, there. The
Jews or Hebrews seem to be scattered everywhere. The
Roman Catholic Church is now said to be steadily in ad
vance of all other beliefs, and the ancient proverb is in a fair
way of being verified that " all roads lead to Rome." Gen
eral Grant for many years was considered to be so quiet in
all ways, that he was frequently called "the silent man."
When the papers noted his progress abroad, there was one
picture given of the General at the Pyramids of Egypt, and
standing near the Sphinx. The most mysterious of all
statues is supposed to have broken the silence of centuries
and addressed the interesting visitor with these words: " Now,

320 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
at last, there are two of us." A little stronger flight of the
imagination might represent Memnon's musical statue on the
banks of the Nile, which once paid morning tribute to the
rising sun, as saluting with mournful melody, in the desola
tion of the ruins . around, the American whose greatnes
rivaled if not eclipsed that of all the Pharaohs of old, now
sealed away in those vast Pyramids, or still more recently
plundered by the modern vandals of the world I have sev
eral times heard the Grant family speak of the young king
of Siam as being especially interesting. He seemed fully to
appreciate that, in his interviews with Grant, he was receiv
ing and not conferring an honor. The beautiful curtains in
jMrs. Grant's drawing-room in New York were one of the
e.xpressions of his friendship. Death and disaster have scat
tered the souvenirs and trophies of a great life, but many of
them have been placed in the Nation's keeping. What
countless looks of affectionate curiosity will be bestowed
upon them from the eyes of " millions yet to be ! " It was very
touching to me to hear the wife of the dead hero tell how,
just before starting for Mount McGregor, he stopped for a
moment to look at the empty cases which had once en
shrined the swords he carried at his great battles, the clothes
he wore, and the medals and the mementoes of that thrilling
past. What thought must have filled that brave spirit and
tender heart as he went up to the mountain to say farewell
to earth, and yet with -what calmness he gazed over the
boundary! Yonder he knew were many dear friends wait
ing, and some day would also come those from whom he
now must part. All through his " Memoirs" he speaks mod
estly of himself and generously of others. I was much
pleased to read his opinion of our friend. Gen. Rufus Ingalls,
that he would, if placed in a high command, have become a
famous general. His praise of Lincoln was unbounded.
Strangely enough, he says his days at West Point were the
most disagreeable of his whole life, and that at that time he
positively disliked the idea of becoming a soldier. All this
would be to a fatalist fresh proof that it is as Victor Hugo
says: " We may chisel the marble block of our lives as we
may, but the black thread of destiny will run through it con
tinually." He was stationed in California when a young officer, and
was so delighted with the country that it was ever afterwards
the hope of his Hfe that he might some day live there. And

GENERAL GRANT. 321
truly it was the home of many of his warmest and best
friends. While we were there we heard of him constantly —
of Senator Sharon's princely entercainment given to him at
Belmont on his return from his travels, of the attentions of
Senator Jones, of Nevada, and of his trip to the Yosemite,
accompanied by Senator John F, Miller and Mrs, Miller and
Miss Dora, and Mr, Flood and his family.. As a matter of
course, at every place of landing on that now memorable tour,
the Grants met American friends, many of the Consuls being
those who had been appointed during their own regime. It
must have been a pleasure to them to welcome to foreign
lands their own greatest citizen, and present to kings of
ancient line their monarch to greatness born, and yet by
power unspoiled. At Tokio, Japan, the late Mr. Van Buren
was then Consul, and on this winter of which I now speak
his wife and daughter were Hving at the Arlington, We
met them at Mrs. Jones' rooms aritt found them very charm
ing people. Maud was specially fond of the young lady,
who was very generous and thoughtful for her.
Bishop Ryan, of Buffalo, and Father Cronin, editor of the
Catholic Union, a very dear friend of ours, called upon
General Grant at Belfast. I know of no one more capable
of appreciating true greatness than Father Cronin, as he is so
rarely gifted himself. It is seldom that one sees a poet truly
practical, yet here is a favored child of the divinest. of the
Muses, who can conduct business affairs of Church and State
with the same facility with which he composes a sonnet, or
dedicates a sweet hymn to the Virgin. He resembles strik
ingly the portraits of Ireland's most famous bard, and any
one who has seen Tom Moore's statue in Central Park, New
York, must note the similarity. When I was a child, an
aged priest, a relative of ours. Father Tuohey, used to say, I
believe he translated the idea from some Latin author : "Whom
the Muses look upon with benign countenance is spoiled for
ever for all the -walks of life." But this is certainly not true
in the case of Father Cronin, for the Muses have smiled upon
him radiantly, and yet he walks a very straight path indeed.
A believer in Karma would pronounce him to be the Greek
Anacreon, or Tom Moore, sent to this vale of tears again to
work out, as a Roman Catholic priest, a mission higher than
lovely poetry alone could accomplish. His devotion to the
Irish cause is as great as that of him who touched the h^rp
of Erin's loftiest chords.

32 2 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA
"And showed the world, in chains and sorrow.
How sweet its music still could be ;
How gayly, e'en 'mid gloom surrounding,
It yet could wake at pleasure's thrill,
Like Memnon's broken image sounding,
'Mid desolation tuneful still."
A charming party from Lockport, who traveled through the
principal cities of Europe a few years ago, were so fortunate
as to have Bishop Ryan and Father Cronin as companions
at some of the most historic and renowned places. Among
the party were Mrs. Wentworth and her daughter, Mary,
whose lovely spirit has since taken its flight to that land
where no malice may enter and no tears are shed. In her
mother's bitter cup the one sweet drop must be that Mary
can not suffer now. It was the bridal trip of Mr. and Mrs.
Charles Van Valkenburgh, and to the eyes of youthful love
what a glory must have slfone on the ancient places of song
and story! The pretty dark-eyed bride can describe in the
most fascinating way all the memorable incidents of her
journey. Her quick intelligence fully appreciated all the
points of interest long familiar to her by reading the history
and poetry of different nations. She told me that Father
Cronin, more than all the others of the party, was deeply
moved at Waterloo. How Napoleon's fall and Byron's
immortal description must have thrilled his mind as he trod
that fatal field, forever to be the emblem of destiny's climax!
How from the shades he must have summoned that imperial
figure, to "shake again the world, the thunderer of the
scene." Father Cronin has a brilliant protdg^ now, young
Rowland Blennerhassett Mahany, who is also a dear friend
of our own. I wish that they would take the great tour
together, and write down their impressions for the benefit
and pleasure of their friends. Not since the magic pen of
Childe Harold was laid aside would such beautiful descrip
tions of classic scenes be given as could now be produced by
the hand of this " Childe Rowland," whose native eloquence
and perfect polish of learning combined would make a superb
volume. Like Childe Harold, he, too, would feel that
Parnassus was his native heath, and the fair fountain of
Castaly would sparkle anew at his approach, and the leaves
of Daphne's immortal tree offer for his brow a garland
bright and undying.

GENERAL GRANT. 323
Senator Miller, of San Francisco, and his interesting wife
and daughter, were among the most noted of the many
brilHant people who figured conspicuously that winter.
They gave a grand masquerade ball, to which Maud
expressed a wish to go, but, alas ! for her " the revel of life
was done," though we could not then accept the fatal truth.
President Arthur always went to their dinners and recep
tions, and was very much attached to them. I do not
wonder they found him charming, for he could make himself
extremely agreeable, and had it not been so, his friends of
other days would not so keenly have felt his desertion of
them ; for they were not of a class that bowed down before
wealth and high position, unless fine qualities were the
accompaniment. It was those who had been his truest
friends who most marveled at the change in him, when
Guiteau's bullet sent him into the White House. The family
of Senator Miller had known a great sorrow, and thus
learned to feel for others in affliction. Their only son lay
sleeping far off on the Pacific shores, and the constant
thought of his loss was like a strain of mournful music
running through a life of sunshine and joy. Their home
was a scene of enchanting beauty before death stole this
flower away, and left the sadly vacant place. On Dora,
their only child, all that love and wealth could give was
lavished. Her sunny nature -was not marred, but she seemed
ever sweet and kind to all whom she met, and Mrs. Miller
was considered by all who knew her to be one of the love
liest and most amiable of women. Senator Miller's record
as a fine general in the War of the Rebellion gave him an
added prestige, which, with all his social qualities, made him
a noted figure in Washington life.
Monsignor Capel was at that time creating a great furore,
both in church and the drawing-room. His eloquent sermons
had the most marvelous effect in bringing stray lambs to the
fold. One day, at an afternoon reception given at the house
of an intimate friend, Maud having obtained permission of
her doctor to be present for a short time, we were presented
to him as he was receiving with the hostess. Like all others,
he was at once impressed with Maud's great beauty, and with
the clear vision peculiar to Catholic priests, he saw plainly the
seal of death traced on the peerless brow. He made himself
very agreeable and interesting to the guests, who seemed
charmed with his flow of graceful talk and elegant expres-

324 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
sion. But I made up my mind that, though he was very
fine, I had known many Roman Catholic priests equally so,
and some few much more so. It is like celebrity in worldly
professions, you can not tell how or whence it comes. In the
evening of that same day, Maud having retired early to rest,
I was aroused as I sat alone, by a gentle tap at the door, and
on opening it I saw the tall form of the Monsignor in the
simple black soutane and the beretta worn by priests in the
confessional. I was thrilled by the recollection of early days,
when I saw so many priests, as they strolled through the
gardens, or sat beneath arbors, reading their breviaries on
week days, and withal I felt a strange fear, as if a dread
specter, whose existence I had been trying to believe was but
a dream, suddenly came before me in unmistakable and
terrible guise. I divined his mission there. It -was to deliver
the last rites of the Church to my beautiful child ! I told him
that the doctors were all the time bidding me to hope, that I
Could not disturb her then, that at all events she was not
afraid to die, that he must come again in the morning. He
was very stern -with me at first, because I fondly clung to
hope. He told me I must relinquish it at once and forever.
" She is beautiful," said he, "too fair a flower for this earth;
she is for the garden of the Lord. In vain you try to keep
her here!" When I look back to that hour, I know that,
though I would not agree with him then, yet like Poe's
raven, he brought the shadow there to stay, from which my
spirit "shall be lifted nevermore." He came every day
during his stay in Washington to see Maud, and had many
talks with her. He was much surprised to find her calm in
the face of death, and greatly relieved to find that^ the
presence of kind friends did not, as he feared at first,
draw her thoughts in the least from that Heaven where she
was an expected guest.
The wealthy young widow, Mrs. Louis Hammersley, now
Duchess of Marlborough, was then visiting her aunt, Mrs.
Ogle Tayloe, just opposite the Arlington. It was rumored
that the golden stores of the fair lady were almost won over
to the Jesuit cause by the wily tongue of the able preacher.
But Time, who consoles in spite of our fondest beliefs, and
who avenges, if we will but wait, has arranged a very
different disposition for the miHions of the departed husband.
The ducal house of Blenheim is being restored, and the
descendant of the great Marlborough, degenerate though the

GENERAL GRANT. 325
world may style him, is the fortunate possessor of the lady
and the gold. English court and castle are th& abodes of the
fair American girl, instead of the cloister, which at one time
seemed to be her lot. Of all the characters I ever met, hers
seems to be one of the greatest contrasts in itself. She, too,
was very much interested in Maud, and pleaded with me ear
nestly to look the truth in the face that I must give her up. I
believe she really at that time had her mind fixed on spiritual
thoughts. At all events, she seemed lovely, and Maud was
very fond of her, and this alone makes me hope that her
chosen path may not be as thorny as many have predicted.
I shall always remember Mr. Converse, the Member of
Congress from Ohio, with gratitude for his daily kind inquiries
for Maud ; and this calls to mind how many wonderful and
good people Ohio has produced. Every one will remember
Chauncey Depew's witty interpretation of Shakespeare : "Some
men are born great, and some are born in Ohio," but when
such names as Garfield, Windom, Sherman and others are
called, then the coincidence of birth and fortune is marked.
Salmon Chase was the son of Ohio's adoption. He was
Governor there, and how often now one hears some proud
mention of him and his beautiful daughter, who was, as a
young kinsman of his once told me, "the pride of Ohio."
Thurman, and Pendleton, and McKinley, and Keifer, and
Butterworth, and Townsend were all sons of Ohio. I must
not forget our old friend, Mr. Benjamin Le Fevre, whose genial
ways made him so popular with us all. I never shall forget
one kind word I received in that last winter, and shall always
watch with great interest for news of the dear friends who
followed so beautifully the holy injunction: "Bear ye one
another's burdens." For if we must stagger along under
the weight of the cross, yet sympathy does give strength to
the fainting spirit on its dreary path. Most truly was this
exemplified in our fortunate meeting with Mrs. Isaac Harts
horn, of Newport, who was presented to us by Mrs. Ogden
Doremus, of New York. At first I thought her wholly
absorbed in the gay world around, and did not imagine she
had ever tasted of grief, but one day she told me of her life's
sorrows, and from that time her friendship was a cordial for
the aching heart. She was lovely in all ways, for she was of
a poetic nature, full of deep feeling, and never said one word
to discourage. Her daughter, Mrs. Livingston Mason, is
also highly fascinating, and they both have legions of friends.

326 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Their home is at Newport, and is called Halidon Hill, and is
famous as a resort for the gifted and lovely who are so lucky
as to possess the fair owner's regard. During their stay at
Washington they were much admired for their charming
manners, their superb toilets and, above all, for their kind
hearts. Oh, if all the rich and fashionable knew how much
brighter than any earthly jewel beams the sympathetic glance,
how much the tender word outweighs all pomp and splendor!
If there were in this world more women like Mrs. Hartshorn
and Mrs. Mason, how many clouds would be brightened, and
how many hearts would grow lighter as well! Somtimes
other friends accompanied these ladies, and one whose
memory will be forever dear is Dr. Robert H. Lamborne.
It is so natural to associate the thought of our friends with
some special scent or flower that I, for instance, always think
of Doctor Lamborne in connection with red carnations, for he
sent many of them to brighten the shadows of Maud's room
in the long hours she passed there. So with their spicy odor
the memory of his kindness is recalled, I remember him
also when I see opals, these strange gems like rays of bright
est sunset caught and bound in bands of pearl, for he had the
finest collection of them I ever saw, I trust that in his case
they carry with them no uncanny spell. The belief that the
opal brings misfortune is rather difficult to prove, and I have
seen the reverse of late to be true in the case of my kinsman.
Senator John Laughlin, who, just before the rising of his
political star, was presented with some magnificent speci
mens of these curious jewels. No evil spirit yet has power
over him, though, like all brilliant people, he has enemies
who are bitterly jealous of the ability they dare not hope to
rival. Great men, though they are proverbially the most
superstitious of all, do not withhold their arduous endeav
ors to compel success, and their lives illustrate the truth that
they really believe, "It is not in our stars, but in ourselves.
That we are underlings."
Mr. Dudley E. Saurin, Her British Majesty's Secretary of
Legation, was at his post, and we were rejoiced to meet
him again, though we had but recently said farewell to him
at San Francisco. When I think of his kind heart and
his faultless address, and how agreeable his visits were to

GENERAL GRANT. 327
Maud, I forget for the time my hostility to the English Gov
ernment. Would that his country could boast of many like
him, and then some of the darkest pages might be changed !
Senator Gwin, CaHfornia's greatest "century -plant," aston
ished us by appearing again in the scenes that knew him of old.
But what changes had taken place! The Washington of his
time, which was but a comparative village, had now become
a beautiful city. The stately forms he remembered of yore
had passed away. The silver tongue of Webster was silent
and the impassioned face of Clay was hidden. Buchanan,
too, had gone, and his beautiful and admired niece, Mrs.
Harriet Lane, was then abroad. There was almost nothing
to recall that vanished time. There was to me some
thing grand in the stately form of the great Californian,
as he walked down the busy streets, towering above the
"different men of to-day. He was rejoiced to be able to wel
come the new star of the Democratic party, Grover Cleve
land. He had for many years been an intimate friend of
their great leader, Samuel Tilden, and never could reco\er
from the disappointment of that time However, he hoped
to be sent in the reign of Cleveland as Consul to Japan, but,
having long past the allotted three score and ten, and living,
as is said, on "borrowed time," he went instead soon after to
that distant country, of whose mysterious voyages no account
is given. Many of the families of the foreign ministers and
attaches were very fascinating. The ones we knew best, and
of whom we have the most grateful memories, are the Baron
and Baroness Fava, of Italy ; Seiior Don Federico Pinto, of
Chili; the Seiior and Sefiora Don Arturo Ubico, from
Guatemala; J. Gurgel Do Amaral Valente, the Brazilian
Minister, and the Prestons, from Hayti. At this time Seiior
Don A. M. Soteldo was Minister from Venezuela, and he
was the father of oilr unfortunate young friend of Iowa
Circle. Perhaps had his father been sent earHer from his
distant home, the footsteps of his impulsive and brilliant son
might not have fallen into the paths which led to his untimely
death. Antonio Soteldo was long a well known reporter of
the Sun. He was successful as a writer, and a great favorite,
and he was very happy in his lovely home in Iowa Circle,
for his wife was one of the loveliest of women, and they had
two daughters of rare beauty and intelligence. But the fond
circle was most cruelly broken.

328 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Seiior Don Francisco Barca was the Envoy Extraordinary
from Spain, and his wife and daughter were among the
loveliest of all the ladies there. Later he committed
suicide, which was a terrible shocl^ to his friends, I always
recall the time I last saw him, which was at one of the Patti
matinees. The Opera was " La Traviata," We were guests
of Miss Anna Farwell, of Illinois, daughter of the Senator,
and I remember that day I thought no heart in all the land
was so sad as mine when I looked first on the smiling faces
around me, and then on the peerless prima donna, whose beauty
shone resplendent, and whose liquid notes fell on the air like
the trilling of countless nightingales, and seemed to linger
there as if loth to die away. At one burst of melody a white
wreath ornamented with ribbons of red and yellow, the col
ors of Spain, was flung from the box occupied by the
Spanish Minister, It was a fitting tribute to the songstress
of Madrid, and the whole scene was very fine. President
Arthur was in the opposite box, and the house was densely
crowded. But little did I dream, as I contrasted my own
sorrowful fears with what I supposed was all gayety around
me, that the superb minister and his handsome wife and child
were to be so soon the actors in one of life's saddest trage
dies. So it is that we judge by outward seeming, and see
not the menace of the future. One of the ancient Roman
beliefs was that the feet of avenging deities are shod in wool, so
that we can not hear their approach, but this is not always so,
for sometimes we hear every footfall as nearer and still nearer
they march. Who can tell which is hardest to bear, the slow
torture of dread, or the sudden fall of the axe, which cuts off
our love and hope and places it in the cold and silent grave?
But it is not given us to choose, and we can not judge at all
b}- appearances. The sweet poet, T. B. Aldrich, expresses
this sentiment so perfectly that I can not resist quoting him:
" Black Tragedy lets slip her grim disguise,
And shows us laughing lips and roguish eyes,
But when, unmasked, gay Comedy appears,
How wan her cheeks are, and what heavy tears ! "
Among the brilliant }oung men we met stand prominently
Mr. Montgomery Blair and his brother Jesup. They were
sons of General Frank Blair, and were highly gifted men.
There was also handsome Harry Reynolds, one of the

GENERAL GRANT. 329
numerous nephews of the old philanthropist, jMr. Corcoran,
whose venerable form was so long a part of Washington
social pageantry. Another illustrious figure, now fast vanish
ing into the historic past of which he wrote so magnificently,
is the author, George Bancroft. In his early editions, what
flow of poetic imagery, what marvelous descriptions of
scenery and character enchant the reader! And what people
he has known! He counted Byron and Goethe among his
friends, and all the gifted and great of the world have been
proud to render to him the homage due to his genius. I first
met him at a reception given by Mr, and Mrs, Blaine in
honor of the then incoming Secretary of State, Mr, Freling
huysen, Miss Tillie Frelinghuysen, now I believe Mrs.
Gray, was certainly a very popular woman. I do not believe
she meant to allow the mold of worldliness, that settled on
everything pertaining to Arthur, to crush out all the nobler
feelings of her better self. One day she introduced me to a
very interesting looking young man, Mr. Frederic Palmer
Fitts, of New York, who had heard of Maud's illness, and,
being threatened with consumption himself, thought he could
advise with her, for he was sure of getting well. So he
came. It was just before we started for home. He had a
brief interview with her,- in which his great dark eyes looked
at her with sympathy; such a strange look I was startled at
it, " Good bye," said he to me at the door, " I am going
home to get well, but your daughter I shall never see again ;
she Is dying!" And the poor fellow wept for the early doom
of beauty, little dreaming, as it afterwards proved, that he
would survive her but a month.
How the names and faces flock around me as I think of
that last winter at the Arlington! There was the handsome
Governor Murray, of Utah, who brought sunshine with his
smiles, and who was one of Mr. Crowley's greatest favorites.
There was the magnificent Governor Squire, one of the few
stars whose brilliant shining redeemed the inglorious reign of
Arthur. Now the new State of Washington has chosen
him for Senator. No more fitting herald of success, no more
promising ambassador, could be found in the broad lands of
all our great country. Here, from Niagara's distant shore,
we send our heartfelt wishes for his future glory. He is not
made of that " quicksilver clay " in whose bosom melts all
memory of the past, when his feet press the enchanted
ground of success. Mrs. Orange Ferris, the wife of one of

330 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
the x-\.uditors of the Treasury, was one of the most popular
women in Washington. Her overflowing good nature fasci
nated every one, and I shall always cherish gratefully her
kindness to me. Not only is her memory dear on account of
her lovely qualities, but she is inseparably associated in my
mind with the thought of her cousin here at our Lockport
home, Mrs. Colonel Wright. I remember, when she visited
Washington, how perfectly the animated atmosphere there
seemed to suit her, and how much she was admired. L have
always considered her one of the most charming ladies who
ever lent a refined and elevating influence to our City of the
Locks. In appearance she always suggests to me those
wonderful white roses, sometimes seen in old-fashioned
gardens, with just the faintest flush on their fair leaves.
Perhaps this air of dainty freshness which surrounds her is
due to her Quaker parentage, though no rules were ever stiff
enough to bridle the flow of sparkling wit and sympathetic
converse which her friends have long loved in her. Her
husband. Colonel Wright, was in every way a fine person
age. A polished gentleman, and extremely popular with all,
his death has left a place ever vacant. The constant name
by which I now call this -world, " a vale of tears," was first
told me by Mrs. Wright. Strangely enough, though I was
nineteen years old at the time, the sad scriptural expression
had never caught my wandering thoughts before. It was
on the day I first met her, somewhere in a conservatory and
surrounded by blooming plants and sweet odors, she said in
response to a careless remark of mine, " This is a vale of
tears." Suddenly a vision seemed to sweep over my mind of
a dark valley wrapped in mists and mournful shadows, where
wailing voices sounded, and graves were made, and life and
joy were swallowed up and lost. That vision was prophetic.
It never has departed, Mrs, Winans, of Janesville, so kind
and sympathetic, and Mrs. Millard, of Syracuse, a very
bright lady, we met with pleasure even under the sad con
ditions. But it is just at those times the deepest impressions
are made, and the tenderest ties are strengthened or broken
forever. Mrs. Hartley, a young widow to whom we became
fondly attached, did so much to cheer the dark path we were
treading that I hope her own sorrows have become chastened
by the touch of time. Only one who had suffered could
ever have shown such deep feeling.

GENERAL GRANT. 331
How strongly, as I recall the familiar names of these dear
friends, the wish comes over me to meet them once more!
But so many have gone out of this life since then, both
young and old, that I look back to that'parting at Washing
ton as a final severing of many fond ties. But I was des
tined to feel that other changes than death can separate lives
once fondly linked together. General Mahone, of Virginia,
had then been some time in the Senate, and with his family
lived at the Arlington. He is so different from all the
other men I knew in his personality that the impression
upon the mind is very marked. No one, to meet him,
would beHeve at the first glance that in that frail physique
dwells a hero's power. Yet the same dauntless bearing he
carried into the battle-field is with him in the Senate's halls,
and everywhere he faces the world and its contests with all
the fire of old days. Mr. Crowley from the first con
ceived a very strong admiration and liking for the Southern
statesman, and we all found Mrs. Mahone and Otelia, her
only daughter, and Butler, the son, to be very delightful
companions. The Southern people are always charming to
meet, as they are more cordial in their ways generally than
those of the North. If it were not that I so abhor slavery, I
should find even a more pathetic romance than I now do in
the ones who still mourn for the Lost Cause.
" Furl that banner softly, slowly ;
Treat it gently, it is holy,
For it droops above the dead !
Touch it not, unfold it never.
Let it droop there, furled forever.
For its people's hopes are dead ! "
sadly sang Father Ryan, the poet ijriestof the South! Alas,
that his Muse should now be sHent! Yet he found this
world but a desert pilgrimage. Congressman John Wise
was there that season with his pretty wife, and they were
everywhere received with welcome, all the men agreeing
that Wise was a royal good fellow. At the Soldier's Home,
that lovely and famous place, which is the Mecca to which
many thousand footsteps have turned, both for reverie and
pleasure, lived then the family of General Sturgis. The
very name is sacred to me, and as I write memory, indeed,
" lifts each shroud that Time has thrown o'er buried hopes."
I do not believe that a family more gifted and lovely ever

332 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
brightened the social world of Washington. One might
travel over all the habitable globe and not find their supe
riors. The General was imperial and distitigu^, and con
cealed his stern experiences in life under an air of elegant
courtesy. It was but yesterday came the startling tidings of
his death at St. Paul. Fatal words, flashing over the wires,
across the prairies, carrying deep sorrow to the hearts of
those who loved him ! That gallant form sauntering down
the avenues of Washington -was once the cynosure of all
eyes. And those dark closely-cropped curls and that beam
ing smile! We shall never greet thee here again, noble
friend, but in the hereafter, where we look for consolation,
we shall hope to meet first those -whose kind hands stanched
our bleeding life-wounds. So another distinguished figure
of the great war passes away ! At each reunion the brave
veterans -weep one fallen leader more! Many a comrade's
tears will fall for generous, gentle and brave Gen. Samuel
Sturgis! Yet he is with his noble boy, his daring Jack, once
more! Mrs. Sturgis had subdued, for her children's sake, her
early sorrows, and well might she be thus inspired, for in
those dear children she is rarely blest. The eldest daughter,
who early married Mr. Louis Dousman, I did not meet, but I
heard much concerning her great beauty. -The eldest son,
Jack Sturgis, shared the tragic fate of General Custer, and
this was the great sorrow of their lives. A singular inci
dent connected with it was that, when his uniform was sent
home to his grief-stricken parents, just on top was a picture
of Faith clinging to the cross. This they took to be an em
blem of their duty, and they then embraced the Roman
Catholic faith, which has ever since proved to them a rock
of refuge. Ella Sturgis, the second daughter, was a great
belle, and the havoc created by her jetty curls, sparkling
eyes and sweet songs sung to the accompaniment of the
zither was more than I dare to chronicle. She is now hap
pily married, and I hope that in her distant western home
she finds something of the peace and health which she
prayed in vain might be Maud's portion here. Mary, the
youngest of the family, had been at a convent school in St.
Louis, and just returned home that year. She was the dear
est friend of my daughter Alice, and their daily compan
ionship formed one of the bright strands woven amid the
dark threads which Fatp then was drawing around us.

GENERAL GRANT. zn
At first, on leaving home, Maud and I thought we would
be contented alone, but she soon pined for the companionship
of her sister Alice, from whom she had never been separated
before. All who have known them from childhood will
remember it was always " Maud and Alice." So I wrote to
her papa that, when he came on to see us, he had better bring
Alice with him. In a few days he walked into Maud's room
alone, and in her greeting to him she tried in vain to conceal
her disappointment. But a gay laugh from the other side of
the door soon assured her that her wish was granted, and tears
of joy stood in her beautiful eyes. Does she watch for her
sister in the silent country ? Does she watch for us all ?
Does she know how bitter the world has been since she left
us? Better not! Better that she should see nothing of all
that happens on the dreary shore whence her bark so early
sailed. But if a meeting here could be so blest, what rapture
beyond words must we know when we see her again ! Mary
Sturgis became deeply attached to Maud and would sit for
hours at her bedside, refusing the most alluring attractions
elsewhere. A preparation supposed to have power to heal
the lungs was then burned in the room, and, surrounded by
the fleecy clouds of vapor which arose as at the touch of
some sorcerer's wand, the golden hair and beautiful eyes of
Maud would shine divinely fair, and already were fore
shadowed by the angel's wings, so soon to bear her from a
world too cruel long to be her home. The days float by.
The spring comes. As my soul flies back I can see the cotton
tree by the window at Washington shedding its filmy frag
ments on the air. I see flowers from dear Mrs. Logan, and
on the card is written, "With boundless love for dear Maud."
I see the white Hlies from Emory Storrs, with her name
written for the last time by his hand, and on this scene the
doctor's voice breaks as he tells me Maud must go home at
once !
Always before she had put off our pleadings to come back
to Lockport, saying that she would be there all suminer, but
on that day she was inspired with a wish to speed quickly to
her old home. "Oh, let us go!" she said. "I wonder if
the Linden tree is in bloom, and the apple trees too?" We
hurried and sped away, and the last farewells were uttered,
and Mrs. Logan wept tears of heavenly sympathy, and Mrs.
Jones knew that she was parting forever from one who
loved her, and whose like she would never see again, and

334 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
the waiters and guests of the hotel, who have never forgotten
her, all said a mournful good-bye. As she passed out to the
carriage, leaning for the last time on the arm of Senator Jones,
I caught a last glimpse of Emory Storrs, as he gazed silently
at her. Into the country where she was hastening, he soon
followed, and so many other dear friends that I could scarcely
call now the record clearly. Oh, what a brief stay it is here,
and why should it not be more of kindness and less of strife?
Some little incidents connected with that sad time there is a
wonderful pleasure in recalling. One is that, just before we
started, Maud expressed a wish to have a dress of lighter
material than those she had worn through the winter for the
home journey, and I did not see how it was possible to have
it made in one day. But I went in desperation to one of the
leading modistes of Washington, Madame Van Reuth, and
told her the situation. She instantly agreed to drop every
thing else and make the dress, and so, at the appointed hour,
the robe of dark blue India silk came, and O ! how lovely Maud
looked in it! Death, though he had marked her for his own,
had not the cruelty to vob her of her beauty, which seemed
to shine resplendent at the very last and needed no change
to glorify it. As she went before Time had touched her, so
in the memory of all who knew and loved her she smiles
ever radiant and young. " She can ne'er behold
The long years linked with heavy day on day,
And all which must.be borne, and never told."
Another event occurred which I shall always think was a
special kindness granted me to assuage the bitterness of that
day. The Rev, Mr. Gilliatt, formerly rector of the Episco
pal Church at Lockport, with whom we had a cordial
friendship, was in Washington, having just arrived in time
to hear the sad news concerning us. He had known Maud
in childhood, and he had himself passed through sorrow,
which he bore with great self-sacrifice, so his words, coming
from the heart and inspired with true Christian fervor, fell
like balm upon my troubled and rebellious soul. Why
should I be so smitten? was my constant wondering cry. It
was through the ministering of one like Mr. Gilliatt I came
at last to feel that, " When I sorrowed most,
'Twas better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all."

GENERAL GRANT. 335
When we reached our Lockport home, it was the first of
May, the day on which happy young folk dance around the
green in England, and which Tennyson has crowned with
his touching verses:
"And sweet was all the land about, and all the flowers that blow.
And sweeter far was death than life to one that longed to go."
She was glad to be at home again and to see her early
friends of childhood days ; glad to see the dear familiar blos
soms on the trees,. but after a few days she longed to see
"Mamie" Sturgis again. So I wrote to her mother, know
ing it -was asking a great deal to have this young girl pass
through the dark shadow with us, but the good parents,
remembering their own loved child, consented. She was so
pleased to see her friend once more, and for the few days
that remained they enjoyed a sweet communion. Before the
blooming May had quite passed by, while still the matins
and vespers were daily sung to the Virgin in this month
sacred to Mary,
' ' Forever and forever, unto a blessed home,
There tp wait a little while until we all shall come,"
went my angel Maud, my beautiful child, whose short life
was a poem and who was, as I now see with clearer vision,
thus spared from many sorrows. The exquisite tributes
which were borne to me from all over the United States,
wherever dwelt a friend who had ever seen her, bore testi- '
mony to her worth and loveliness and the general sympathy
for our loss.
In our native city, her old friend. Doctor Clarke, wrote
the first announcement, from which I quote the following
extract: " It was not unexpected, but when the sad tidings,
' Maud Crowley is dead,' were whispered from pale lips to
trembling ears, the whole heart of sorrow throbbed in our
midst, and every eye was tear-stained. Maud was only
eighteen, and from a child had possessed a beauty so entranc
ing that to many her face was a living reproduction of
Guido's Beatrice, and to the grace of person was added a
soul of such sweetness that all who knew her loved her.
This great affliction falls with crushing weight on her
immediate family. It is the smiting of the first-born, and it
is no wonder that the cry of Rachel, that^ will not be
comforted, arises from the stricken household."

336 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Among many kind comments, I gratefully recall the one
from the pen of the fine writer. Miss Emma Janes, who all
through that sad time evinced the most delicate and thought
ful sympathy. Here are a fe-w words of it: "The tidings
of Maud Crowley's death stirred deep feeling in the breasts
of those who knew that radiant young girl. All that the
Lockport and Buffalo papers in their obituary notices have
said of her unusual gifts and graces is confirmed by the
recollection of her Washington friends." My feelings at
that time can only be understood by those -whose hearts like
mine have been wrung.
" ' Whom the gods love die young,' was said of yore.
And many deaths do they escape by this."
If the best and brightest hope held out to mortals is that,
after long struggling and many trials, -we shall reach Heaven
at last, -why is it not better to arrive at that happy shore
before the bark has sailed through tempests, before warm
friends turn cold, before beauty fades and aspirations wither?
As a preacher was quoted to me as saying not long ago, in
a touching sermon on death, " If Heaven at last, why not
Heaven at first?" Though I always believe this to be true,
yet philosophy does not help in this hour of agony. The
lightest touch of friendship but adds to the pain. To the
eye of despair the blue skies of summer and the cold clouds
of winter are alike. Time, which conceals the ruin with
verdure, and which finally avenges all things, binds up at
last the bleeding heart; and, though the scar remains, we
pick up the broken and tangled threads of our lives again
and join the great procession of life. Not many stop to
consider in the march how the old wounds ache oftentimes.
None but old soldiers know, if the crutches are only carried
bravely, and the pain smothered with a smile. The troops
go tramping on. We enter the lists once more and strive
for victory, though we have lost our best weapons, and the
fire of young ambition has faded into ashes. StiU we hope,
and the past, with its sacred tomb and vanished dreams,
seems sealed forever! " Ah, but alas for the smile of smiles
That never but one face wore !
Ah, for the voice that has flown away like
A bird to^ an unseen shore !
Ah, for the face, the flower of flowers, that
Blossoms on earth no more !' '

FIFTH AVENUE HOTEL. 337
• CHAPTER XIII.
Fifth Avenue Hotel — New York City.
" They come, in dim procession led.
The cold, the faithless, and the dead ;
As warm each hand, each brow as gay,
As if we parted yesterday."
One of the saddest things in life is to revisit the places
where we have been happy, after some crushing sorrow has
befallen us. The contrast is painful between the past and
the present. Each spot is full of sweet yet mournful mem
ories. Still, the first feeHng that one is alone in grief fades
away after contact with the world. In its great procession
we meet one black-robed figure after another, faces once joy
ous, and now sadly changed. I felt this truth forcibly and
deeply on my first visit to the Fifth Avenue Hotel in New
York City after an interval of more than two years. There
I had met so many friends, from time to time, either in the
autumn On the way to Washington, or in the early spring,
when New York is especially delightful, and the sunshine is
so bright there, and the sweet odor of the violets greets one
at every corner of the streets. In after days even the sound
of the hand-organ, as it pipes some sadly familiar strain,
recalls in the most heart-breaking way departed happiness
and faces gone never to return. There we saw the aged
Senator Gwin for the last time, for, strangely enough, the
lofty tree of the Sierras was destined there to fall, far from
home and friends. He died quite suddenly at the New York
Hotel, and looked like a monarch of feudal times as he lay
in his coffin, at rest after a remarkably stormy career. In
his brief stay he had resumed his former friendship with
Roscoe Conkling, whom he enthusiastically admired and
liked. There was much similarity in the characters and tem
peraments of these two men, the same imperious disregard of
obstacles, the same consuming fever of ambition, the same
strong loves and hates. Nature seldom rises to such heights
of aspiration as in molding men like these, and in contrast
with their greatness, even with its fiaws, how poor, and
dwarfed, and common, how lacking in generosity, seem some
of those who have since trodden the boards of life's theater !
For the people know greatness, and are not deceived by

338 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
mediocrity! And though they will ofte;n turn upon their
most cherished idols, and history's thrilfing pages reveal them
to be " Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain !
Vain as the leaf upon the stream ,
And fickle as a changeful dream ;
Fantastic as a woman's mood.
And fierce as frenzy's fevered blood,"
yet, when the hero dies the world weeps. Repentant and
adoring France received -with wild acclaim the dead Napoleon,
and the tomb in the shadow of the Hotel des Iiivalides is her
greatest glory now. Rome knew not how she loved Cffisar
till she saw the cruel wounds that jealous treachery had made.
England did not see the sparkling radiance of the brightest
gem in all her starry diadem of genius till Byron's lifeless
form was borne from the fields of Greece, and that immortal
harp was forever silent! Westminster holds the dust of
kings, but in a country churchyard lies one who outranks
them all. In Ireland the still uninscribed tomb of Robert
Emmet is more eloquent than the costly mausoleums of now
forgotten sovereigns. In America the dust of detraction
blew for a time in slight clouds about the name of Grant,
but, when the warrior died, a pageant greater than ever
witnessed the triumphs of a Pompey or a Csesar followed
that silent commander, and spoke with -wailing requiem and
mournful tears all their love and all their wild regret! I have
observed that not even fitfully do the people render homage
to those who only succeed by accident. There is, to be sure,
a crowd surrounding the prosperous, who hope to be bene
fited, but the real enthusiasm is never awakened.
By the distant Pacific another friend has passed away.
Senator William Sharon, who never liked to think of death,
and who, in his quiet way, enjoyed the feast of life. How
changed San Francisco must be without these two Ex-
Senators, Gwin and Sharon! Fast friends, and connected
so closely with the brilliant early history of that Coast,
their departure deprives the people of two of its greatest
men. I remember, on compHmenting Senator Sharon
about the festal glories of Belmont, I said it reminded
me of the fables of the Elysian Fields, and there was
also another similarity, one could not get there with
out Charon (Sharon). "Oh," replied he, "do not
speak of that pale boatman. I dread to expect him."

FIFTH A VEN UE HO TEL. 339
But he has at last carried him over the Stygian stream, and
beyond, I trust, he has found that his fears were in vain and
the sweet surprise awaited him of peace for all eternity.
Gen. Cyrus Bussey one evening brought to me a friend
who carried with him great consolation. It was the Rev.
Dr. Newman, now Bishop of Texas, a warm friend of
General Grant and his family, and of many others whom
I knew. Bishop Newman has the most beautiful way of
placing death in its true light. There seems to be in his
mind almost a spiritual revelation concerning the glories of
the life beyond. At all events, I date my first emerging from
the dark clouds of despair to his visit. The impression was
almost impalpably conveyed to me that Grant, standing on the
heights, gazing into the new country, seemed endowed with
almost prophetic vision and immortal courage. He often
spoke to his dear friend and constant companion. Doctor
Newman, of the certainty of meeting his loved ones in a better
world. It is hard to fancy him as happy, even among the
mighty shades of conquerors and kings, while he is waiting
for the wife and children he so fondly loved while here.
This is one of the questions the anxious heart is forever ask
ing, do they who have gone long for us as we long for them ?
Or is there at the entrance to Paradise some bright Lethean
stream, whose waters give oblivion to earth's woes? This
is one of the ancient Brahmin ideas, but forgetfulness is not
what we wish for those who have gone before. Rather
would we hope that, from some bright balcony, they are
leaning, looking at each troop of spirits sweeping by, escaped
from thralldom, to see if we are among them at last!
On the morning, as we were in the breakfast-room with
Mrs, Mahone and her daughter. Gen. Anson McCook
came to the table with the announcement, "Arthur is dead!"
A thousand memories were awakened at those words. Once
more I saw him young, gay and smiling, as he greeted my
husband, " Dick " as he used to caU him, in the fondest wel
come. How he seemed to love him then! Not a day passed
during our visits that they Were not together, in councils of
war as well as festal meetings. And now he was dead, and
the cold grave would enfold him! But he had grown cold
in heart and had cruelly wronged those who had trusted and
helped him most. That change had been worse than death,
and yet, O, for one hour of that old companionship! O, to
see again that beaming smile! We felt no wish to clasp that

340 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
lifeless hand, for to us it had long since been cold. And we
shall clasp it nevermore. Oh, was it weH, for pride's brief
hour, to crush all ties of gratitude and friendship? The mel
ancholy dirge which aroused no sorrow in the passing crowd,
the cold dictates of fashion which presided over the last cere
monies, showing the ruling passion strong in death, all spoke
of friendship estranged, of great opportunities wasted.
Upon the bier of Grant the tear of the humblest soldier was
as precious as the wreath sent by England's Queen. But
no tears fell for Arthur, unless it were from the eyes of a
few rich people who mourned that they would be bidden to
his feasts no more. There came, to witness the last rites in
honor of the dead Ex-President, a crowd of brilliant person
ages from Washington, many, indeed most, of whom I had
heard express their true sentiments towards the man now
dead, and just opinions they -were. There was James G.
Blaine, around -whose name and presence circles a magic
spell of interest. I happened to see him on the evening of
his arrival, and enjoyed, a long talk with him concerning the
election of Cleveland, and the baleful influence of the narrow-
minded bigot who gave utterance to the imbecile expression
of the three R's, " Rum, Romanism and Rebellion." To lose
an election for an aHiteration! And where did the auspicious
star of Blaine hide her beams that she allowed him to be just
out of sight and hearing at this time? How his clarion notes
of scorn would have rung defiance to the thought that in the
ancient church of some of his ancestors, or on the isle which
has given birth to some of the men he most admires, there
was aught for him to fear, or to assail. The Roman
Catholics and the Irish of America know him to be their
friend, and yet, in times of great excitement like that of a
Presidential election, a chance missile does deadly -work, in
inflaming still more minds already excited, and leading
people to say and do things at which they afterwards
wonder, and for which they feel deep, and unavailing regret.
But the title of President could add little to the fame of
James Gillespie Blaine ! Always a central and radiant figure^
he will be remembered when the names of many who
occupied that place exist only in the record of history, never
in the hearts of the people. I was especially struck with the
admiration felt for him during Mr. Crowley's last campaign
for Congress. Every time he mentioned or quoted James
G. Blaine, the word had scarcely passed his lips when his

FIFTH AVENUE HOTEL. 341
listeners rent the air with tumults of applause. All
responded to that loved and honored name. There was a
southern editor stopping at the hotel then, Mr. Collier, of
Nashville, Tennessee. Although a Democrat, he is an
ardent admirer of Blaine. He is a very interesting and
brilliant talker himself, and in appearance resembles the
pictures of John C. Calhoun, whose fiery spirit so stirred up
the House of Congress, bitter in opposition, and devoted in
partizanship. Mrs. Collier is a lovely woman, and I enjoyed
this meeting with her very much. We watched together
the passing of Arthur's funeral train, the flower-laden coffin
and the quiet passage on the last journey to Albany. Ah,
how many a time had we taken that same road with him in
the by-gone days! How gaily, when we were a little late
for the train, he would lift Maud, then an infant, in his
arms, to hurry us on. I think it is quite a fitting thing that
the wealthy friends, upon whom he heaped favors in his
day of power, should have reared his monument.
On this occasion, this gathering of the clans at Arthur's
funeral, we saw our friend General Logan for the last time.
Yet little did we imagine this to be. No more gallant form
ever trod those halls, no more noble soul ever lighted human
eyes than the one we saw looking upon us, to our great sur
prise and delight, as we were seated at the dinner-table one
evening. Brilliant dark eyes ! Never more shall we behold
them shining with pleasure or flashing with indignation.
After dinner I asked him to come with my daughter Alice
and myself to the blue parlor, as that had been Maud's favorite
room. He complied, without speaking until we reached
there, and then he said, with a sigh, "Poor Maud! What a
beautiful, and what a good girl she was." His heart was so
great and so kind that, though he had never lost a child,
except one babe in very early infancy, he knew what my
feelings were in that memory-haunted place. He was* in a
great hurry when taking his departure for Washington, as
it was one of the rare occasions when he was not accompanied
by his dear wife, his loved Mary. So, as I shall always
remember, he said in a hurried way, " Good-bye, Good-bye,
Good-bye! " " Oh,'" said I, " don't say it three times,' it has
a strangely ominous sound." " Well," replied he, "we are
always saying good-bye in this world, and you must not be so
superstitious." And with a smile and a wave of the hand he
was gone. If I had known that in one short month he was

342 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
going to that country where Maud dwells, what messages I
would have given him ! How I would have thanked him for
his kindness to her, if I had only known ! Now^, in every
talk I have with his heart-broken wife, I learn more and
more of that great soul, and that noble life.
" To live in hearts we leave behind
Is not to die."
It was very interesting to note the men who passed through
the great hall on their way to the dining-room on this
occasion of the burial of the Ex-President. There were the
two Shermans, looking so much alike, both tall, slender and
distinguished. There was brave Philip Sheridan, -who always
reminded me of the Friar Tuck of Robin Hood's famous band.
I have heard it was on horseback that he was the inspired
commander, and certainly the fine picture painted by Buchanan
Read, and now in the possession of Mrs. Grant, gives the
best idea of him. It represents him on his wonderful ride to
Winchester. The great soldier and his gallant steed are
doubly immortalized in the poem and the portrait. It was a
mournful thing to lose one of the most brilliant figures of the
war, just in the prime of life, with a beautiful and loving
wife, charming children, and all the prestige of well-won
victories to make the last days of his life glorious, but, alas!
the exposure and fatigue of the long rides, the terrible perils in
which he placed himself in the period of his country's danger,
shortened the hero's days. I would love to see grand monu
ments reared to perpetuate forever the memory of such men,
to record their courage and to show to future generations
what great souls helped to found and save this glorious
Union; but I would love still more to see the Nation cherish
their families, and I think the Congress of the United States
should feel it to be one of its proudest duties to protect them
and keep them in the position won by the genius of the.
husband and father. Among the great men who came to
pay a last respect to Arthur, simply for the office he had held,
three have since departed : John A. Logan, Philip Sheridan
and Roscoe Conkling.
' ' Men drop so fast, ere life's mid-stage we tread.
Few know so many friends alive as dead. ' '
That was the winter of the Senatorial contest between
Levi P. Morton, Warner Miller and Frank Hiscock. I was

FIF TH A VEN UE HO TEL. 343
anxious for Morton to succeed, and General Logan was
hoping th.at Miller would continue to keep his seat. Mr,
Hiscock was more confident than in any former candidacy,
and when he told me he knew he would get the coveted
prize, I believed him, for I saw he had the confidence which
sometimes, though rarely, is the presage of success. On my
return home I said to Mr, Crowley: "I think Hiscock will
get it, for he holds the balance of power, and that you know
was the case with Garfield," But my husband answered:
"Oh, I do not think so; Frank is well equipped for the Sen
ate, of course, but I think Morton just now has the greatest
strength and following of the three men." But I persisted
in my belief, nor was I surprised at the result. Women are
largely governed by their intuitions, and men by their judg
ments. I have taken pains to quote Mr. Crowley's exact
words on this occasion, not from any hope of favor, as he
does not ask or wish for any office under the Government,
but to show that he was totally free from jealousy that a for
mer comrade should win the honor for v>'hich he had once so
hardly fought in vain. If I dared to tell what others said
then, some of whom have since reaped much benefit from
Mr. Hiscock's accession to the Senate, I could point a
marked contrast. But, though fearless in expressing my own
opinion, and often proving it a costly luxury so to do, I have
never yet betrayed a confidence, though sometimes rather
tempted to retort when the very persons who most unkindly
criticised others have proved traitors and worse, perjurers as
well. However, the lesson one learns in Washington
quicker than anywhere else in the world, I believe, is that
nothing is resented to power or money. These influences
may yet prove useful, but what can be expected of failure?
There is nothing that succeeds Hke success. Among those
we met who had been under the shadow of Azrael's wing
since we parted, were the wife and daughter of Gen,
John Franklin Miller, Senator from California, They had
been traveling to seek relief from their great sorrow, but
everywhere, all the world over, they missed the kind hus
band and father who had just been taken from them. For
long years a sufferer from wounds received in the war, his
great vitality was at length exhausted, and he died at Wash
ington in the spring of 18S6, surrounded by friends and
deeply loved and lamented. The highest honors were paid
to his memory by both House and Senate, and many de."r

344 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
friends went with the mourning family all the -way to the
Pacific Coast, and witnessed the burial of the dead Senator
in beautiful Laurel Hill, as the chronicles said at the time,
"literally buried in flowers." Senator Leland Stanford said,
on the occasion of the Memorial Services in the Senate in
the following May: "Impartial history will delight to
place his name, as a private and public citizen, high among
those who are worthy examples for their countrymen to ad
mire and imitate." Mr. Edmunds, of Vermont, said: "I
lay upon his grave the tribute of my most affectionate re
membrance." Mr. Voorhees said: "Indiana joins Califor
nia as a mourner for the honored dead, and lays an ever
green garland of gratitude for his services, and affection for
his memory, on his grave." Senator Logan, of Illinois, said:
" Senator Miller was a true type of the American freeman,
with iron courage and a gentle nature that melted enmity
into friendship and opposition into compliance. He was at
home among the humble, and always a peer of the best."
Senator Fair, of Nevada, said : " He Viras a man of fine in
tellectual endowments; he possessed an admirably balanced
mind and a heart full of consideration for his fellow-men.
He was a man of patriotism, of honor and of honesty, and I
join with his warmest friends in deploring his untimely
death." Senator Harrison, of Indiana, now President of the
United States, said: "His sense of honor was high and im
perative. As an adversary he was open and brave; as a
friend he was true and steadfast. His love of country was a
passion; its unity, its honor and its prosperity were dearer
than life to him. He had twice shed his blood in its de
fense. Another of the great soldiers of the war has de
parted. Wrapped in the flag he loved, and covered with
laurel wreath and flowers, his scarred body has been laid to
rest by loving hands. Indiana mourns her son, the nation
one of its most gallant defenders, and we a friend." Said
Senator Dolph, of Oregon: "Though the body is mortal,
we know the soul is immortal, and that, safe in the abode of
the blessed, beyond the reach of praise and censure, of the
mutations of time and the ills of life, thou shalt enjoy a state
of eternal felicity." Senator Hearst, of California, said, in
alluding to the purity and integrity of his Hfe: "Such an
example should be written on the mile-posts of the highway,
chiseled in the cliffs along the trails of the Rocky Moun
tains, graven on the granite of the Sierras, hewn on the tall

FIFTH AVENUE HOTEL. 345
pines of the Pacific slope, and commemorated in the flowers
in the valleys of the dead Senator's adopted State."
The House of Representatives, in the following month,
also paid glowing tributes and uttered beautiful eulogies on
Senator Miller's life and character. Said Air. Grosvenor, of
Ohio: "I remember the plaudits of the Arm}- of the
Cumberland that were showered upon John F. Miller after
his distinguished career at Storm River. I remember well
when he was being carried back to the rear with a wound
that ultimately terminated his life." Mr. Holman, of Indiana,
Mr. Cutcheon, of Michigan, Mr. Tucker, of Virginia, Mr.
Butterworth, of Ohio, all spoke eloquently in praise of the
dead Senator, and Mr. McKenna, of California, closes with
these poetic words: "He peacefully reposes in the State he
loved and served, in a grave overlooking its fair city and
oceain view, while its waters as they beat against the coast
sound everlasting earthly farewells, everlasting earthly fare
wells." Mr. Morrow, of California, said: "The waves of
the Pacific have chanted no sadder requiem than they do
to-day over the remains of John Franklin Miller." If ever
life looked fair, it must have so appeared to Senator Miller,
for, wherever he pitched his tent, whether in the National
Capital or his western home, he was surrounded by beauty,
and luxury, and friends. His beautiful villa in the Valley
of Napa was called Lavergne, in memory of the place where
his first victory was won. Mrs. Miller showed me some of
the pictures, and truly it is a veritable Eden; the freshness
and luxuriance are indescribable. The tropical plants and
the tall, stately trees, the variety of fruit and flower, render it
a scene of enchantment. Why is it that, no matter how
lovely the home is, people will love to wander? But then
the return to such a lovely spot must be a compensation for
the absence. Mrs. Miller's grief has but beautified her
character and intensified her sympathy for others, and as for
Dora,, now so happily married to Lieutenant Clover, I never
met one more unspoiled by pleasure and flattery.
I found some charming new friends at the same time I
met some of those dear from tender association. There was
Mrs. Colt, of Rhode Island, one of the most inteflectual and
fascinating women I ever knew. She is thoroughly familiar,
not only with all the best literature in the English language,
but with that of several others as well. She repeats the
whole of Byron's " Parisina " without the slightest effort. Her

346 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
taste in reading is exquisite, and I have often thought that if
her son, Mr. Pomeroy Colt, Attorney-General of his State,
should be elected to the United States Senate, as it has been
often supposed he would be, the mother would form a salon
there equal to any in the brilliant days of the French
Empire. She has many generous and noble qualities, as
well as her powers of miiid. She is wonderfully young in
appearance, and the fire of her dark eye is undimmed by the
creeping years. It is lovely to w^itness her sons' devotion to
her. There are three of them, George, the eldest, then
Pomeroy, and next the one they call " Barry." I believe he is
"Judge Colt" to the world at large. His name, "Le Baron,"
is hereditary in the family, as they trace it to a French
ancestor who came here in political exile many years ago,
and whose Hfe was to its close surrounded by a halo of
romance and mystery, though his actions proved his true
nobility of character. The tale is very charmingly told in .
the book called, " A Nameless Nobleman." One can readily
still see in these sons the same traits, the same sense of
honor, of courtesy to those in misfortune, of everything
comprised in the old adage, "noblesse oblige." They are
very proud of their mother, and she has transmitted to them
her intellect and her true nobility of heart and soul. Byron
said : "All who joy would win
Must share it. Happiness was born a twin."
This truth was never better exemplified th?in in a recent
visit I paid to New York in company with my dear friend,
Mrs. Fuller, of Buffalo. She has, of late, turned her atten
tion to literary pursuits, and her success is most flattering.
She is a wonderfully charming interpreter of Shakespeare,
her readings having been eagerly welcomed by the true
lovers of Avon's bard ; and her essays show great originality
and beauty of expression. I consider her one of the most
sparkling women I ever met. She combines in a remark
able degree the brightest wit with the tenderest feeling.
Her very presence is a cordial, and if one has thought life
not worth the trouble of continuing, a visit with her brings
back lost youth and hope once more. Such spirits shine
best in life's shadows, like the jasmine flowers of the Orient,
that only open their lovely buds and exhale their sweetness
to the air of night; >

FIFTH A VENUE HOTEL. 347
On this visit I met, for the first time, two Senators from
Albany, of whom I had heard and read much, Mr. Vedder
and Mr. Erwin. I found that friends had not exaggerated
1:heir brilHant qualities, for in the evening we spent with
them the bright repartee, and the delightful reminiscences of
travel were extremely interesting. The Senate is familiar
ground to Mr. Erwin, who has been Speaker more than once,
and -Cvho is well known in politics. He has a lovely wife,,
but, I believe, no children. Senator Vedder is quite alone
in the world, his only son having been taken away from him
not long since. In his heart ambition, perhaps, has succeeded
love, for though on the rocky path vvhich leads to fame are
many cruel disappointments, many lurking snares and treach
erous places, yet the heart can not be so deeply wounded as
when we make unto ourselves idols of this perishable mortal
mold. Some one has said that, " We turn from love to
ambition, but never from ambition to love." It was then I
witnessed that wonderful achievement of dramatic genius,,
the play called "Anarchy, or Paul Kauvar," by Steele
Mackaye. The terribly magnificent drama of the French
Revolution is absolutely unrolled before you. The merciless
axe sweeping down the flower of the nobility, who faced
death with the courage of great souls, the maddened roars of
an oppressed people, the dazzling figures of history all appear,
summoned by the imperial mind of the brilliant author. I
think this is one of the very greatest plays ever produced
upon the American stage.
Mrs. Robert Pifcairn, of Pittsburgh, Pa., and her charm
ing daughter, Susie, are among the most conspicuous habitues
of the hotel of late years. Mrs. Pitcairn would be observed
anywhere for her beauty and elegance. She is delightful
in all ways. Though her husband is one of the most suc
cessful business men in the country, she has not become in
the least e.xhalted in her notions, and she does not draw the
line between herself and those who have failed, at all. She
was one of a very pleasant coterie of ladies who assembled,
in the evening, in the great hall, during the intervening hour
between dinner and the amusements of the opera or theater.
The others were Mrs. Edward Bonner, of Montana, and
Mrs. Post, of Cheyenne, whose society we found exceedingly
enjoyable, and whom we shall always hope to meet again.
But how seldom does the same circle come together even one:
year later! Time, with its countless changes, sweeps over.

348 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
and in a few short months a life's hopes are wrecked or
realized. Of the political friends, there are still some few left of the
Old Guard, whose motto was to die, but never to surrender.
One is Alonzo B. Cornell, the Ex-Governor, who has kept
many friends true and devoted to him through all these years.
There is something massive and grand in his character as well
as in his personal appearance. I formed my opinion of him
at the time he was nominated at Saratoga. Just afterwards,-
when weaker men would have seemed elated, he was just the
same, calm and courteous to every one, and I never had
reason to think success made him vain. If he had shown
symptoms of inflation or arrogance, I should not, as I here
do, predict for his prosperous career a speedy revival. When
pride falls it falls never to rise again, and for the haughty
spirit that goes before destruction there is on this earth no
balm. But I like to see level heads, like A. B. Cornell's,
come to the surface, and I' believe the waves of disaster that
have temporarily enveloped him have now receded. All
things come round to him who will but wait. But one
event, connected with my best memories of New York
City, I fondly hope, to see, and that is the restoration to
wealth and power of our old friend, Mr. Thomas Murphy.
Fortune's fickleness has not written any changes on his face,
and, equally unmoved, he would again welcome her smiles.
' ' Blow, blow, thou winter wind !
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude,
As benefits forgot,
As friend remembered not ! "

CHAPTER XIV.
General Logan.
" No, by mine honor," Roderick said,
"So help me heaven , and my good blade !
No, never ! Blasted be yon pine.
My father's ancient crest and mine.
If from its shade in danger part
The lineage of the Bleeding Heart !"

Thus proudly spoke the mighty Chieftian of Clan- Alpine
as he vowed allegiance to the race of Douglas! And John
Logan, who traced his descent to one of those brave men

GENERAL LOGAN. 349
who went with the heart of Bruce to the Holy Land, has
inspired in life and death the same burning devotion on the
part of those who knew him best. Fearlessly and magnifi
cently into danger and victory rushed the troops led and in
spired by the Black Eagle of Illinois. The briHiant and
spotless record of the warrior-statesman will forever be a
great example to the young men of our country. History
can point with her impartial finger to no life more pure and
shining in all its relations — husband, father and friend. The
world knows that he was rarely fortunate in his marriage,
that his beautiful and talented wife -was his guiding-star in
all the storms and perils of his life's voyage. Many great
men, in marrying early in youth, find as years roll on that
the wife has not kept pace with them at all, that there is no
real companionship. I have often admired the gallant bear
ing of successful men on reaching some proud eminence, as
they faced the world bearing the burden of this fatal mis
take. This is the test of true chivalry, and most men bear it
well, for to fail in this would be the quintessence of all dis
loyalty. I think General Logan and his wife were the most
picturesque and perfectly matched pair I ever saw. The
first time I observed them closely was in the Senate Cham
ber at Washington. Logan was making a speech on that
day, and his wife sat in the gallery. Never shall I forget
his dark, dramatic face, his long, black hair and impassioned
bearing. And she, with her beautiful statuesque face, framed
in silver, her sparkling black eyes, her air of profound interest
and affection, impressed me even more. Grand figures,
luminous amid the commonplace, they shall be remembered
when others with their wealth and gilded shows have passed
into eternal oblivion. In the fate of after days I came to
know that ambition's fire never hardened in Mrs. Logan's
breast one of the truest hearts that God ever allowed to beat
for a high purpose in this cruel world. What a hopeless
place it would be, if now and then, once or twice in a life
time, perhaps, we did not meet such people as they to show
that the stories of antiquity were not all fables and dreams;
that sometimes power was god-like, and success was kind,
that beauty was not vain, nor valor cold and ungenerous. It
needed no Sibyl to predict that Logan was drawing near the
Presidency, that he would have been elected in 1888, had he
been spared to us. But what we could not foresee was that
he was destined to go while yet his sun of life was high, and

35° ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
warm and bright. He had labored hard and long, and he
was just beginning to enjoy a little repose. He is gone, and
-we shall see him no more until we
" Behold each mighty shade revealed to sight,
The Bactrian, Samian Sage, and all who taught the right."
His biographer and friend, Mr. George Francis Dawson,
says in his beautiful life of Logan, that he might himself have
been the nominee at Chicago in 1880; that, like Csesar, he
did thrice refuse the kingly crown. He was ardent in his
support of Grant and said publicly, when accused of being
the dark horse in the contest: "I never play 'hide-and-seek'
in politics. When I wish to be a candidate I say so, and
make a square and honorable fig'ht for the prize. I never
have second choices. The man that I am for is my choice
always, unless defeated. Then the choice made by my friends
becomes my choice." To Logan no deceit was possible, and
his bold and open nature scorned all dissimulation. This is
one of the great reasons why he is such an example for
young men, and I have placed these two books, the " Great
Conspiracy," written by himself, and Dawson's "Life of
Logan," in the hands of my own sons, telling them that
here was a life lived in our country by a soldier and a states
man which might be a model for all time. From the latter
book I have caught the thread of events in his career, which
I before knew in a general way, but not in the beautiful
sequence observed by Dawson, who gives battles and speeches
with such telling effect as could only be done by the pen and
brain of one who loved him.
General Logan was born at Murphysboro, Illinois, in
1826, and was one of eleven children. His father was an
Irishman, a physician, and vainly tried to interest his son in
the arts and theories of medicine. His bright star began
early to shed its rays upon his path. He won distinction in
the Mexican War at twenty years of age. He was elected
to the State Senate at the age of twenty-six. He was sent
to Congress at the age of thirty-two years, in the year 1858.
There were exciting scenes in Congress in i860. Senator
Charles Sumner was stricken down by the fiery Southerner,
Brooks, and thus received the blow which caused his linger
ing and painful death years later. Lovejoy, the great Abo
litionist, was hindered from speaking by the members from the
.South, but Logan, like a knight-errant of old chivalric days.

GENERAL LOGAN. 351
came to the rescue and offered to meet any one outside the
House who dared to question his right to the free expression
of his opinion. It was Logan who fired the patriotic heart
of Illinois to send her best to save the Union. To him is
the credit due for the rapid raising and organizing of troops.
He fought as a private in the battle of Bull Run, and at
Belmont his horse was shot from under him. He was then
made Colonel of the Regiment of the Thirty-First Illinois,
and after Fort Henry and Fort Donaldson received the ran"k
of Brigadier-General. The soldiers of those battles tell that
where bullets flew thickest, and where the tempest of war
was darkest, there Logan would always be, dauntless and
invincible. Grant made him Military Commander at Vicks
burg. He was victorious at the great battles of Fort Gibson,
Raymond and Champion Hills. He made the following
ringing reply, to the taunt that he was an Abolitionist, in a
speech at Chicago, in 1863: "If it makes a man an Abo
litionist to love to hear 'The Star Spangled Banner' sung,
and be proud to hear that such words were ever penned, or
could ever be sung upon the battle-field by our soldiers, then
I am proud to be an Abolitionist, and I wish to high Heaven
that we had a million more; then our rebellion would be at
an end, and peace would again fold her gentle wings over a
united people, and the old Union, the old friendship, again
make happy the land where now the rebel fiag flaunts dis
mally in the sultry southern air."
At Resaca he won fresh renown. At Dallas, on his coal-
black charger, in the thick of the fray, something in his
appearance led the men to think he was mortally hurt. At
once the news flashed along the line, " Black Jack's
wounded!" This aroused the soldiers to frenzied efforts,
and the day was crowned with victory. His brilliant charge
at Little Kenesaw is warmly remembered, but above all,
Logan was the hero of Atlanta! When his friend, the brave
McPherson, fell, as it were by the hand of destiny, being
then in command of the Army of the Tennesee, General
Logan at once dashed through the lines shotiting, "Mc
Pherson and Revenge!" The brilliant results of that
memorable day showed the love of the soldiers for both
these heroes. The picture of the gallant chieftain, as he
swept along on his fiery steed, borne on by the genius of
victory, with his coal-black hair floating in the wind, his
dark eyes flashing with stern avenging fire, will be stamped

352 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
forever in Hving colors on our Nation's history. Men who
witnessed the scene will tell their children, and, as the years
roll on, it will lapse more and more into the radiant glory
which surrounds the past, and the story of " Black Jack of
Illinois " will be sung by poets and go down to posterity in
the brightest way of all, the songs of. a country. General
Leggett, an intimate friend of Logan's, was then in com
mand of the Seventeenth Regiment of Illinois, and what
pleasures the two warriors enjoyed in after days, fighting
these battles over again ! The appointment of Howard to
the command of the Army of the Tennessee caused very
great disappointment to Logan's friends, who thought, by
saving the day in the face of such a misfortune as the death
of the leader, he had doubly won the right to his friend's
vacant place. But Logan himself said nothing. He simply
went back to his old command -without a murmur. Like
the immortal .Six Hundred at Balaklava,
His not to reason why.
His not to make reply.
His but to do and die.
Noble John Logan !
General Grant says in his " Memoirs " that Logan would
have filled the place well. General Logan took an active part
in the Presidential election of 1864, which came just after the
Atlanta campaign. His presence in Illinois must then have
been invaluable to Lincoln, as, fresh from the prestige of this
great victory, he spoke with thrilling eloquence to the people
of his state, whether assembled in the halls of large cities,
or in gatherings in the open fields. He must have seemed
to them the ideal soldier with his hair tossing like raven
plumes, and his eager, expressive face; and, when mounted
on his famous black horse, it is not strange that this dark
chieftain, something Hke the Black Douglas, one of his
ancestors, should have suggested the names given to him,
"Black Jack," or the "Black Eagle of Illinois." He decfined'
successively the ministries to Mexico and Japan, and in
1886 was nominated for Congressman-at-large by the Re-
pubHcans of Illinois, and was triumphantly elected, though
persecuted with almost incredible malignity. It was said at
the time that no candidate in Illinois had ever been so abused.
¦Here was a man who rushed foremost into the fields of dan
ger, and risked his, Hfe, and left his business for his country's

GENERAL LOGAN. 353
sake, and who hurried home now at the appeal of the Presi
dent who knew that his name and presence would help him
at this crisis more than aught else; yet all this self-sacrifice
aroused in some small minds nothing but the desire to detract
and pull down one of whom they had so much cause to feel
proud. But Logan's intrepid spirit bore all these attacks with
the same marvelous patience with which he endured the
hunger, the cold, the fatigue of the battles, and the watches,
and the marches, and never was heard to complain of either.
One of his most eloquent speeches was the one against
Andrew Johnson's idea of admitting the South into Congress,
with all the privileges enjoyed before she had tried to destroy
the Government. The Grand Army of the Republic, not
only the surviving veterans, but their descendants, will always
remember Logan. Three times was he elected their Com
mander-in-Chief, and to him is due the institution and observ
ance of Memorial or Decoration Day, the 30th of May, when
over all this fair land the soldiers' graves are strewn with
flowers. In issuing his first order for this purpose he made
one of the best speeches of his life, one which alone would
utterly refute the absurd charges concerning his lack of
grammatical or rhetorical finish. I never in all my life met
any one more thoroughly conversant with the elegant litera
ture of classic authors, or more familiar with the finest poetry
than General Logan was. Mark this beautiful sentence from
his speech in inaugurating Decoration Day: " Their soldier
lives were the reveille of Freedom to a race in chains," It
has since become a National holiday, and will ever be
associated with the name of its founder.
How this makes us feel the noble purpose of the war, to
crush slavery! How proudly and purely, Hke glowing stars
in Heaven's dome, shine now from the heights to which they
have reached, the names of Lincoln, Logan, Chase and
Sumner, of William Lloyd Garrison, of the poets Whittier,
Bryant and Longfellow, of Wendell PhilHps, and of Grant,
Sheridan, Sherman and all the great generals of the North,
who lived, fought and died that this terrible stain on a Free
Country might be wiped away forever! In all time no
grander epitaph was ever written, on marble mausoleum,
or towering monument, or enduring pyramids, than the
one written by William Cullen Bryant on the death of
Lincoln:

354 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
" Thy task is done, the Bond are free ;
We bear thee to an honored giave.
Whose proudest monument shall be
The broken fetters of the Slave ! ' '
Even now, when it is all past, no feeling heart can read
without pain of the horrors and cruelties of those days. In
his speech impeaching Andrew Johnson, Senator Logan not
only shows great power and deep learning, but forces the
reader to feel deeply what an awful trust is involved in the
holding of the Presidency, He declined the nomination for
Governor of Illinois in 1867, preferring to remain in
Congress at that time. It -was General Logan who pre
sented the name of General Grant to the Convention in
Chicago, in 1868, During that campaign, in his speech
against the Democratic party, he said : " We gave the slave
a musket, because we found he was a man; and we gave
him a ballot, that he might be a citizen," Is not this
multum in parvo ? Two speeches I specially admire are the
one in favor of volunteer soldiers in 1869, in Congress, and
the oration on the death of General Thomas. Logan, as the
picturesque and dashing volunteer hero of the war, was well
fitted to speak on the first subject, and his touching tribute
to his dead friend shows how fond and true his friendships
-were. One of the most marked traits in the character of Senator
Logan was his contempt for sordid and mercenary motives
in politics. He did not believe any one suspected of bribery,
or connected with schemes for making money, should sully
by his presence the houses of Senate or Congress. A
Sioux City paper said of him : " Logan belongs to that class
of political men that will not give you the kiss of peace to
day, and betray you to-morrow. He has never gone back
on a friend, and I don't think he ever ran from an enemy."
The Irish Republic, after he was elected to the United
States Senate, in 1870, compared him to the best Roman
orators. I believe this was in commenting on his eloquent
defense of his friend. General Grant, against the attacks of
Charles Sumner, in 1872. It was at this period that he was
first prominently spoken of for the Presidency. I will quote
here what I consider a very fine extract from his eulogy on
Zach Chandler, of Michigan, in alluding to the oration made
by the latter at Chicago on the last day of his life: "His
logic came like hot shot in the din of battle, crashing through

GENERAL LOGAN. 355
the oaks of the forest." And in speaking of his sudden
death on the same night, he says: "The angel of death
must have whispered the message so softly that he knew not
his coming." I take from Mr. Dawson's valuable " Life " the
following incident, which shows so well the noble character
of General Logan : " He was the first of the ' Stalwarts ' to
take the stump for Garfield. At the ratification meeting,
June 16, 1880, in Washington, it was Garfield's eye that saw
Logan in the crowd, and Garfield's hand that beckoned him
to come up, and Garfield's voice that asked him to say a
word on that occasion, and that exclaimed, ' Thank God,
Jack's up ! ' when he stood up before the multitude." The
Washington Star briefly tells what followed. "General
Logan was here recognized, and for ten minutes the applause
was deafening. When quiet had been partially restored.
General Logan said : ' If any one desired to know -who his
first and last choice -was, he would answer: The nominee of
the Republican party. The candidate who now bore its
banner was all that he or the people could desire. If the
people of this country desired a born leader, they had it in
the person of James A. Garfield. No matter who the first
or second choice had been; let the only choice now be the
nominee. All sores should be healed, and there should
be no feeling save one of success ; and to his old comrades he
would say: Touch elbows on the march and press onward
to certain victory !' General Logan retired amid loud applause,
and the assemblage dispersed. All those who were on the
spot will remember that Garfield was moved to tears as he
thanked Logan for his hearty support."
General Logan, ever dauntless and faithful, stood by Gar
field as President tt^the bitter end. I was delighted to find,
in his speech on the subject of Education, that he cherished
such broad and noble views on the general equaHty of
prince and peasant where intellect is concerned. In fact,
he befieved in universal education, and was in favor of
extending its advantages to all, Indians, people of all colors
and races, every one. I myself should think any one who
has read history, or observed mankind, and noted the pass
ing events of his time, would see tliat genius is the most
capriciously bestowed of aH the powers of the gods. She
will prefer the lonely cabin, where her lover reads by the
Hght of pine-knots, as in the case of Lincoln and many
others, to the sumptuous palace, with its glare and splendor.

356 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
She scorns all notion of lineage. Certain qualities may be
hereditary; physique, of course, may be, but genius never.
Its ancestry is beyond the skies, and the lips hallowed by
the sacred fire of Prometheus are often those of the
peasant's child. Who cares for Shakespeare's origin? Or
Napoleon's ? Thackaray said : " I would rather have genius
than wealth. I would rather make my name than inherit it."
In the National Convention in Chicago, in 1884, the courtesy
of Blaine and Logan to each other was admirable. There,
as always, Logan's dignity and unselfishness shone forth.
Arthur was deservedly beaten; he could not expect to stand
against champions like these. I have never been able to see
on what grounds he presented himself as a candidate before
the people. Was it because the shot of an assassin precipi
tated him into the White House, having previously been
made Vice-President merely as a sop to Cerberus? Or was
it that he had won the heart of the American people by his
ingratitude to his friends and his fawning after millionaires?
Well, neither old and tried friends, nor gilded new ones,
stood by him at Chicago. Toleration is one thing, and
preference is another. He at last felt his littleness, and it has
been told by eye witnesses that he wept copiously at the
selection of Blaine and Logan. He belonged to the class of
people who are callous to other's woes, but very tender con
cerning themselves. It is also a fact that Arthur himself and
a few choice spirits held high carnival of rejoicing -when the
news of Cleveland's election was received. This was fine
gratitude from the man who, more than all others in the
Republican party, was rewarded, as Roscoe Conkling after
wards said, "so far beyond his just deserts." Blaine was"
severely criticized for not being heart-bjoken at his funeral!
" My Old Guard at Chicago, the 306, made Arthur," said
Grant, "and see how quickly he has forgotten them! As for
me, if people come to me for letters to that man, I now tell
them I would not injure their cause by advocating it, or
defeat their papers with my signature." One of the myste
ries I can never solve is why men suddenly placed in power
become so utterly changed. They at once seem to mistake
hardness for greatness, and meanness for statesmanship.
The General's and Mrs. Logan's pathway through the
country during the summer and autumn preceding election
was a triumphal march, such as greeted the Roman Emper
ors of old after victories. The enthusiasm of the people was

GENERAL LOGAN. . 357
unbounded. If this wonderful pair had been placed at the
head of the Nation, it would be in sweet connection with
the eternal fitness of things. They were perfectly adapted
in all ways. All the women in the land would have re
joiced to pay homage to Mrs. Logan. She possessed all the
qualities most admired in women, great beauty and intelli
gence, combined with the sunniest nature in the world, and
a heart in sympathy especially with her own sex ; for I know
no one who is so peerless in this one quality ; she seemed to
be created for this especial destiny. But it was ordered
otherwise, and yet, in the light of the coming years, I be
lieve the name of no lady of the White House will shine one
half so fair, so pure, so bright as that of Mary S. Logan.
No event in the life of General Logan is more impressive to
me than his last election to the United States Senate. Fate
seemed determined to put his courage and endurance to the
utmost test. The strange fatality of three deaths, two Dem
ocrats and one Republican, leaving the salvation of his elec
tion hanging on a single chance, the long fight of over three
months closely following the election campaign, the power
ful odds against him, the masterly strategy by which it was
fairly secured, capturing the Democrats in what they fancied
was one of their special strongholds, and electing a Republi
can there, made it one of his most glorious battles! Alas,
that it should have been his last! Mr. Crowley said at the
time that it was one of the greatest pieces of political man
agement and generalship he ever knew or read about, and
he was delighted with the news of the victory so bravely
fought for and so brilliantly won. In a Fourth of July ora
tion at Woodstock, Conn., he so forcibly expressed my ideas
in regard to election privileges and the rights of people in
general, that I select from it the following fine passage:
"When the time shall come, as corrie it must, which shall see
faithfully executed the declaration that all citizens of the
United States shall be regarded as equally entitled to the
same rights and privileges now contemplated by law; when
men of all shades and colors, who under the law are entitled,
shall be permitted to have their voices heard and their bal
lots counted in the selection of the persons to control the
Government of the Nation and the States; when intimida
tion shall cease; when frauds, coming whence they may, in
misdirecting and miscounting the ballots, and controlling
elections unlawfully, shall be punished ; when ballot-box stuff-

358 . ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
ers shall find homes in penitentiaries; when the black man
as well as the white man shall be permitted to exercise his
legal rights without fear or molestation; when he shall have
equal rights with the whites in all the courts of justice; when
he shall have equal privileges afforded him in securing an
education ; when he shall not only be counted in the appor
tionment for representation in Congress and in the Electoral
College, but shall also be permitted freely to aid in the se
lection of that representation; in a word, when all citizens
are equal and unobstructed while participating in the affairs
and management of this great Nation; then, and not till then,
will the real gem of ' liberty and equality before the law ' be
permanently fixed as the finishing cap-stone and crown of the
sacred *emple reared by our fathers and perfected by our
selves, within whose dazzling portals liberty shall live with
us forever, and Heaven benignly smile upon a ' Government
of the people, by the people, and for the people'!"
In his beautiful eulogy on General Grant, after ranking
him at the head and front of military genius in all ages, he
says, in allusion to the well-known truth that he was never
elated or rendered proud by prosperity: "Egotism, vanity
and ostentation always follow the success of the weak."
Grant and Logan had no such contemptible weakness! Ac
customed to the plaudits of the world, they did not forget to
smile upon the humble as well as the haughty. Standing
high on Fame's pinnacle, they never forgot who placed
them there. Their true greatness needed no outward as
sumption. All mankind feel, what Shakespeare alone could
express, that refined gold needs not to be gilded, nor the lily
to be painted, nor the violet to be perfumed. I remember
so well how beautifully and tenderly Grant spoke to me of
Logan just before the election of Cleveland. The exact
words I can not give, but the impression was one of perfect
trust and honest admiration for John Logan. A fine touch
of sarcasm is apparent in a speech made by the General at a
banquet given him by the " Logan Invincibles " of Balti
more, in which he alludes to the fact that the Democratic
candidate for Governor of Virginia rode about on the saddle
formerly used by his uncle. Gen. Robert E. Lee. "While
sitting thereon, he receives a kind of inspiration from the old
saddle, that makes him feel as though he were in command
of some great army, fighting for the destruction of his coun
try." It was very interesting to hear both the Senators,

GENERAL LOGAN. 359
Logan and Conkling, discuss the colored people, for it is a
subject on which I have always thought and felt very deeply
myself. Who can tell ^vhat future lies before them now ?
Slavery kept them down as it has white nations. How is it
possible to tell what they may yet accomplish? Well might
we all copy their fidelity and their gratitude to those who
are kind and just to them. Their love of music has always
been considered wonderful, and if their songs were sweet in
captivity, how divine will the melody be when the sense of
Freedom has attuned the chords to perfect harmony! The
wail of the captive, the lament of a race in chains, will be
heard no more. How General Logan lived up to the noble
idea he thus once expressed: "In God's name let us respect
and love the dead who have died for us!" The long array of
pensions secured to the soldiers' families by his wonderful
persistency and untiring devotion will forever attest. If the
prayers of grateful widows and orphans could have saved
him, he would have been spared to be his country's pride
for many years. " But when the rose is brightest.
Its bloom will soonest die ;
When burns the meteor brightest,
'Twill vanish from the sky."
In my opinion. General Logan's book, " The Great Con
spiracy," is the very best and most truthful record we have
of the Civil War. I never was more interested and fascina
ted in the most thrilling romance ever penned. Fiction fades
before the events here told. It is dedicated to the young men
of America, and is, as I have told my sons, a priceless heri
tage. Its beauty and its worth will grow with time. We
have all the vast panorama of the war; we have also the
great figures who mingled in its stirring scenes, who fought
the battles, made the glowing speeches, and carried the
country safely through the storms which imperiled it, and
the shots of traitors on all sides. Logan, the warrior, the
statesman, is here the magician, who calls the noble dead
from their graves and bids them speak again with all the
fiery eloquence of yore. We hear again the battle of the
giants, Lincoln and Douglas, as it rings over the land,
listened to and watched by the thousands waiting to decide
the great questions of the day, and in spite of all our loyalty
to Lincoln, we adore Douglas for the intrepid spirit with

36o ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
which he takes his stand on slavery, and more than all, when
he declares himself in favor of the northern side of the great
conflict, of which he did not live to see the end. Said his
friend. Senator McDougall, of California: "The last voice
of the dead Douglas I felt to be stronger than the voice of
multitudes of living men." Logan inspires the reader with
his own deep and outspoken admiration of Baker, of Oregon,
who died on the field of battle. This beautiful extract from
one of his speeches defending the Liberty of the Press, I
specially admire: "It is fed by the dews of Heaven, which
distil their sweetest drops t ) form it. On its broad bosom it
bears a thousand bai'ks. There Genius spreads its purpling
sail. There Poetry dips its silver oar. Upon its borders
there grow every fiower of Grace and every fruit of Truth."
The constant friendship felt for President Lincoln by
General Logan, the profound sympathy he felt for him in
those troubled days, breathe all tnrough the book. They
were in perfect accord, both unselfish, thinking of their coun
try's good alone, both brave and patriotic to an inspired de
gree. Logan's love and admiration for Grant are also every
where apparent, and his eulogy pronounced at the hero's
tomb will be an amaranth crown, for the flowers of which it
is composed are more than mortal in their beauty. All
through the " Great Conspiracy " are fine, glowing sentences
like these: "When the first gun was fired at Fort Sumter,
its sullen echoes sounded the funeral knell of slavery." Allud
ing to the attitude of the Administration of Buchanan at
the opening of the war, he says: "Thus swindled, betrayed
and ruined by its degenerate and perfidious sons, the imbe
cile Administration stood with dejected mien and folded
hands, helplessly awaiting the coming catastrophe." The
whole story is magnificently told, and to those who knew the
writer it is only a sHght effort of fancy to recaU his dark
flashing eye, with its eloquent glance, and to dream they
hear, not read, those burning words. Well hath it been said
that the pen is mightier than the sword, but few have ever
lived who could wield both so well as Gen. John A.
Logan. This thought occurs to me, perhaps it has to many
another before, that if Virginia is proudly styled the Mother
of Presidents, if to be born in Ohio means to be born great,
should not some new device of laurel crown the state which
gave us a Logan, a Lincoln and a Douglas?

GENERAL LOGAN. 361
Just at the setting of Logan's earthly star, long-cherished
wishes seemed to be realized. His travels during the summer
before were Hke the triumphant progress of a royal conqueror
through a flower-strewn land. On him the Nation's eyes
were centered as their chosen hope and leader. Last, but
not least, he had just been settled in his beautiful home, so
long and ardently desired as the peaceful haven after many
stormy battles. Alas! he but dwelt there long enough to
consecrate its memory forever for those who lingered behind.
I do not think any one could better have expressed the truth
that Logan, like all giteat natures, could love and hate with
equal fervor, than his friend. Doctor Newman, who was
present at his death, and who most fittingly pronouned his
funeral oration. Said he: " When composed, the ocean of his
emotions was so placid that a little child might sail his fragile
boat thereon ; but when agitated, the great deep was troubled ;
the heavens scowled; thunder answered thunder; the ethereal
fires gleamed and burned; wave mounted wave; and whole
armaments were scattered before the fury of the storm.
This is the key to the warmth of his friendship and the bitter
ness of his enmity." Another beautiful expression, in allusion
to the fact that Logan first suggested Memorial Day, and
afterwards spoke of it as the proudest act of his life, is this:
" Could the patriotic dead rise from their graves, each with
a memorial flower in his hand, there would rise a floral
mountain to the skies, the perfume of which would ascend in
gratitude to the God of Battles. Logan deserves such a
mountain of flowers." How soon was he followed by Philip
Sheridan, who stood at his death-bed, and Roscoe ConkHng,
whose grief ¦ for his friend was so eloquently expressed !
Well might we exclaim,
" We've fallen upon gloomy days !
Star after star decays.
Every bright name, that shed
Light o'er the land, is fled !
Dark falls the tear of him who mourneth
Lost joy, or hope that ne'er returneth;
But brightly falls the tear
Wept o'er a hero's bier."
Not only in Washington, but all over the United States,
was the tenderest sympathy felt for Mrs. Logan and her
children in their great sorrow. The whole country, without
regard to party, felt that one of the best and brightest, one

362 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA
of the most picturesque of all the grand figures, had passed
from the stage forever. In the Senate, where they gathered
to pay the last honors to their dead colleague, beautiful
eulogies were delivered by Senators Cullom, Morgan,
Edmunds, Manderson, Hampton, Allison, Hawley, Spooner,
Cockrell, Frye, Plumb, Evarts, Sabin, Palmer and FarweH.
Still, even in comparison with these distinguished gentlemen,
I feel proud of the orations pronounced by our own New
York State Senators, many of whom knew Logan well.
Senator Sloan said: "I believe it is conceded on all hands
than Logan's record was the grandest of any one of our
citizen soldiers, notwithstanding there were many whose
names were written high upon the scroll of fame." Lieuten-
ant-Govenor Jones said: " Public life opens golden oppor
tunities for the acquirement of wealth in questionable ways.
Many Members of Congress have been rapidly enriched.
General Logan died poor. He was as incorruptible as he was
positive. He is one of our public men who may be safely
cited as an example to youth." Senator Coggeshall said:
" He was endowed with a constitution that would have been
the pride of a Norman king. He was vigorous as an athlete,
robust as a plowman, perfect as an Apollo, polished as a
Chesterfield, and as brave as the most immortal hero in his
tory." Senator Knapp said : " Down along the line of the
future, until time shall fold his wings, the name of Logan
will be a household word." Mr. Saxton said : " The star
of Logan will shine on with clear, serene ray so long as this
Nation shall endure." Senator Raines said : " He was the
comrade of every man who wore the blue. They» were
always in his mind; he never forgot them, and as long as one
of them remains to answer the roll-call, he will not cease to
be remembered." Senator Vedder said: "As a patriot he
has no superior in all this world. He was the idol of his
countrymen, and the savior of the untutored worship of all
upon whose black brows he had helped, by sword and pen,
to place the glittering crown of American citizenship. As
an orator he had few equals. His oratory was peculiar to
himself. It was rugged, intense, impetuous, sincere, and
with a conscience behind it; in fact it was the utihewn honesty
and rock-ribbed loyalty of John A. Logan that always spoke.
As a soldier, he was the bravest of the brave. Had the
flower of the Fifteenth Corps been the .Imperial Guard of
France, and had a Logan led them at Waterloo, the English

GENERAL LOGAN. 363
center would have been pierced. La Belle Alliance would
have been Belgium's capital. Napoleon would have been on
a throne, and the fate of the world would have been changed."
Assemblyman Piatt said : " Underneath that strong will, be
hind that inflexible nature, and beyond that indomitable
bravery of the General and the leader, there was the loving,
tender heart of the man." Mr. Langley said: "The qualities
of the soldier, the citizen, the patriot and the statesman were
all concentered and unified, and they shone with rare and re
splendent brightness in the life and character of Gen. John A.
Logan." Emily Thornton Charles, in her beautiful poem on
the death of Logan, expressed perfectly my feelings when the
sad- news came: ' ' What ! Logan dead ! the grand, the free
Untrammeled spirit of the West !
He, lying low, at death's decree,
With folded hands across his breast ?
Alas ! Alas ! that it be said.
The soldier-citizen is dead ! "
I believe every one will agree with me that in times of
great affliction some words said by some friends have more
power to soothe and heal than others, though all are uttered
or written with the same kind sympathy. Though years
have flown, and trials have thickened in our path, I can still
recall with a throb of heart-felt gratitude the first despatches
from the General and Mrs. Logan: "We deeply sympathize
with you in the loss of your lovely daughter. Dear Maud!
We loved her as if our own." Mrs. Sturgis, whose daugh
ter was with us when Maud passed away, seems to have had
the same feeling in regard to her. She writes: "We are
with you, and suffering as though your dreadful loss were
our o-wn." I shall never forget how tenderly one special
chord -was touched by the hand of an early friend of my hus
band, Mr. Myron Clark, of Royalton. After expressing the
full understanding of our grief that only those who 'have suf
fered can know, he adds: "By and by, well-meaning friends
will say — the phrase has become stereotyped in my ears —
well-meaning friends will say : 'Had Maud lived she would
be now of such an age.' But to you, your Maud will always
be as she was when last here, in her young womanhood, as
my Maud is still to me the little girl with the golden curls,
who kissed me 'good-night' and went away from me years
ago." Of all the letters we received, and they were many

364 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
and tender and beautiful, this one only seemed to know and
feel the immortal love, the love that through pain could yet
rejoice that the adored one was out of the reach of this
world's suffering, out of the touch of its treachery, beyond
the possibility of its defeats, its disappointments and its
deaths. I stood by a youthful bride; she was Maud's friend;
she held a bunch of Hlies of the valley in her hand ; even so
did Maud when she slept her last sleep; but I thought,
" Where Maud is now the lilies never fade, and I would not
call her back," I have met coldness where once was love,
I have thought: "This, Maud has been spared." Ah,
Menander! wisest of the ancient Greeks wast thou, who
didst say that, better than all the triumphs life could offer
was an early escape.
After an interval of four years I found myself once more
on my way to Washington, the city of such sad memories,
and yet so crowded with fond recollections as well. I was
going to visit Mrs. Logan, whom I had last seen just before
starting on my home journey with Maud. A little more
than a year previous the great blow of her life had fallen,
and her worshiped husband. General Logan, had been sum
moned. I longed for, yet dreaded, the meeting, and now, as
I look back, I can trace in myself an improvement from that
time ; for I not only was worn w;th grieving, but I had come
to believe that nobility and generosity were the dreams of
youth and the illusions of the poet's brain. It was reserved
for Mrs. Logan to dispel these clouds, and while such a
woman lives, or we remember that she has lived, that knowl
edge is worth thousands of inferior natures not worth noting
at all. The lesson given by her is that, though Hke the
sweetheart of Robert Emmet, her heart in his grave is
lying, yet she constantly exerts herself for the welfare and
happiness of others, thereby finding blessedness. The words
used by Moore in his sweet ballad now apply to Mrs. Logan,
as well as to the story of the fair maid of Erin's hapless isle:
" He lived for his love, for his country he died.
They were all that to life had entwined him;
Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried,
Nor long will his love stay behind him."
But we pray that she may stay some years on this troubled
sphere, if but to show what woman can be, when she rises
above the weakness, the cruel jealousy, the narrow mind,

GENERAL LOGAN. 365
that have so long degraded her sex and made them so much
more cruel than man is to man, or even than man is to woman.
A loftier plane on which to stand, a brighter light may dawn
for woman, if she lives to help, to comfort and to bless. I
arrived in the morning, and as I stepped from the train a
messenger said Mrs. Logan was waiting for me at the end of
the platform. With what deep emotion I looked on that
once beaming face, now in its statuesque beauty fairly start
ling beneath the widow's sable veil. Grief is a fine and cruel
sculptor, yet in our faces he always spares the best, and those
who survive that merciless chisel seem to come forth resplen
dent. Is this a herald of how luminous we shall be when
this outer shell is quite removed? Jordan, the faithful black
coachman, drove us out to Calumet Place, the home of the
departed Chieftain. At first it seemed that I must see the
General's noble form approaching, hear his genial voice and
catch the sparkle of his peerless dark eyes; but on Memorial
Day, when I went with them to his tomb at Rock Creek
Cemetery, and saw the casket veiled in spring flowers, with
his swords crossed above it, and his portrait silently gazing
down, while all around the wreaths of immortelles kept since
the funeral day, the " Cartridge Box, with forty rounds," the
badge of the Fifteenth Army Corps, and all the emblems of
his famous victories, then at last I realized that he was gone ;
that though in Calumet Place all his familiar belongings were
everywhere visible, his hat hanging in the. hall just as he
last placed it there, his books as he last laid them down, yet
when we returned that night, after the Grand Army of the
RepubHc had paid their tributes to their " Comrade, John A.
Logan," and the " Logan Invincibles " had wept for the old
commander, we should not see him, he would not be visible
to mortal eyes. That home has since become a temple dedi
cated to his memory. The trophies and souvenirs of a great
and noble Hfe are gathered and treasured there, and weH do
those children appreciate their priceless legacy ! They seem
to resemble their father more and more. I was told by dear
friends of the family that Mrs. Tucker, the General's daugh
ter, or as he always fondly called her, " Dolly," was her
mother's whole dependence and inspiration in her first terrible
grief. In her frail form are centered the resolution, the
courage and devotion for which General Logan was cele
brated. Heroic blood will tell. The dear mother, through
her love for those children, rallied at last, and now the smiles.

366 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
so long watched for by loving friends, sometimes shine out as
in olden days, though soon and often to be quenched in tears
for the noble dead.
John A. Logan, Jr., seems to possess all the blessings which
a fond father could have prayed for, a lovely wife, hosts of
friends, a little daughter, named for his glorious mother,
Mary Logan! May not one drop of that now brimming
life-cup be spilled! The dark resolute face of the " Warrior
Statesman " has been so often seen in the banners flung to
every breeze in stirring campaign times that no description
is necessary. Though Mrs. Logan's face is fast' becoming
historic, being so beautifully repeated now on canvas and in
marble, yet I will here give my impression of her appear
ance. Though from the very first I thought her beautiful,
when her kind eyes beamed on me so gently in Washington,
as they did on all new-comers, as if for encouragement, yet I
did not realize how faultless her features really -were, and
how grand the head was which enshrined those great quali
ties, until I went with her one day last year to the studio of
Flannery, the celebrated sculptor in Washington. We
passed a delightful hour there while little delicate touches
were added to the splendid bust he was making of her. It
was then, when I noted the perfection of the marble, and
looked from its cold, though lovely, features to her own
bright warm face, that I felt not alone the exact similitude
in shape, but also what Nature had done in molding such a
head. To crown all, there is, besides, the fond, true woman's
heart. It is not strange that she shines out pre-eminent
among the wives of the great men of our country, for I have
well observed that many of them have no other thought than
to derive as much utterly selfish pleasure as possible out of
the gay life of the Capital, and that every courtesy they bestow
has its object, while the leper is not more shunned than
those who have fallen from power. There is so much they
might do, if they only would, but in the meantime their glory,
too, fades away, and they are in their turn forgotten, as they
deserve to be.
Mrs. Tucker, the only daughter, is a perfect contrast in
coloring to her mother. I think her temperament is differ
ent also. Mrs. Logan's is like those winds which blow in
Persian lands over beds of roses, forever wafting sweet' per
fumes only, while Dolly's resembles those wandering airs
that catch in their passage the breath of the Spice Islands as

GENERAL LOGAN. 367
well. She is like one of those birds of paradise, of which
Persian legends tell that they fly from far southern isles to
India to eat of the nutmeg tree. It is this quality of her
mind which renders her society so piquant and entertaining.
She is already a charming raconteur, and I predict she will
be a leader of the most brilliant circles yet. Beneath this
sweet effervescence, like that of a tingling, sparkling wine
when one is weary of insipidity, there runs a deep river of
emotions, of heroic qualities worthy of the race from whence
she springs, the angel mother, and the soldier sire. It was
Senator Mitchell, of Pennsylvania, who introduced the pen
sion bill for Mrs. Logan, in which he was assisted by Senator
Cullom, of Illinois, and Senator Call, of Florida. Their
names should be canonized, but why was not the Senate
more generous to a man who had doubly won their recog
nition? Who in all this broad country deserves more than
the wife of General Logan, not only on his account, but on
her own? In most instances, when great men die, their
families are remembered solely because they belonged to
them, but here is a most striking instance where each mem
ber of the family is entitled to the nation's love and the
nation's gratitude. If great wealth were theirs, what suffer
ings would be alleviated, and what tender kindness shown to
the unfortunate. Even as General Logan remembered the
wounded soldier, so his wife would remember the wounded
on the great battle-fields of the world !
I have not yet taken the reader over the threshold of Calu
met Place, outside of whose hospitable door no friend would
long be permitted to remain. You enter the grounds through
a drive of stately old walnut trees, and stand on a broad
piazza, encircled with sweet honeysuckles. On the heavy
door is a very quaint brass knocker, with the American
eagle proudly gleaming from its polished surface. A broad
hall reaches through the house, as in most of the mansions of
Colonial days. I remember the first room we entered was
the library, on the left of the hall. There stand the Gen
eral's black-walnut desk and chair, used by him so many
years in Washington. What memories are associated with
it, of the letters and despatches he wrote there, of the hours
of perplexed thought he spent there, of the very life which
was given there in studying how best to benefit his country,
never trying in the slightest degree to scheme or plot for his
own advancement, as so many others did. This should have

368 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
been remembered also. This room is full of interesting
things, including a bust of the General by Miss Johnson, of
Chicago, and a photograph by Scott, of Chicago, taken only
forty days before his death. One would not dream, in study
ing the features, that death stood near and said to himself:
"This is the last of all mortal semblances of Logan." There
are also the portraits of the Logan Invincibles, of which he
was elected a member in 1885. That, too, was but one short
year before the final enrolling, the enlistment in the last army.
The photograph of the one hundred and three men of the
Thirty-Fourth Illinois Legislature, which elected Logan for
the last time, had a peculiar and most touching interest for
me. I felt what good and true men they all were, and how
happy they must be, now that he for whom they voted has
passed away, that they did not desert him in this, his last ex
tremity. Directly over the bas-relief by Miss Johnson is the
picture of the original ancestor of the Logan family, a Scot
tish Chieftain in the Highland costume, wearing a Campbell
plaid. Close by, a modest Httle frame holds a record in the
life of Mrs. Logan that should be written imperishably : "At
a reception at the White House during Arthur's Administra
tion, Mrs. Logan, observing that Mrs. B. K. Bruce, the wife
of the Register of the Treasury, was not politely treated by
the other ladies, with her characteristic kindness and nobility
of heart, extended her hand, for which the colored citizens of
the City of Chicago sent the following resolutions," which
are, as they should be, among the gems of Mrs. Logan's col
lection, and will be fprever dear to her descendants :
'¦'¦Resolved, That we, the colored citizens of Chicago in
mass-meeting assembled, recognize in Mrs. Gen. John A.
Logan the true type of womanhood. She graciously relieved
Mrs. Senator B. K. Bruce in extending to her the hand of
friendship at the above named reception, while other ladies
present were disinclined to grant her the courtesy and the
consideration due her as the wife of a prominent Govern
ment official (Register of the Treasury.) And that we
will, for this one act, hold in respectful and kind remem
brance the name of Mrs. John A. Logan.
(Signed.) Ferdinand L. Barnett,
Chairman,
And John B. French,
Secretary^''

GENERAL LOGAN. 369
Over the doorway which leads into the hall are the por
traits, first, of Stephen A. Douglas, next, of General Grant,
then of Arthur, and then of General Logan himself. Mrs.
Tucker, the General's daughter, recently related to me a very
remarkable incident connected with these pictures. Just when
her illustrious father lay dead in the room above, in fact his
bed stood directly over this very spot, the sons of these great
men, by chance, by fate, stood directly under the portraits of
their sires, and just in the order above mentioned, Stephen
Douglas, Fred Grant, Alan Arthur, and John A. Logan, Jr. !
There is here one of the celebrated Brady photographs, of
which only a few exist, of Sherman and his Generals — Logan,
Hazen, Howard, Schofield and Blair — and beneath is the well-
known bas-relief of Washington, Lincoln and Grant. There
are countless Indian ornaments from Santa F6, connected
with the life of Mrs. Tucker, when her husband was sta
tioned there, which well attest the artistic ingenuity of that
race. I do not suppose that anywhere in this country can
be found such rare treasures in old and fine mahogany and
rosewood furniture as are now in the possession of Mrs, Lo
gan, If inanimate things could feel in their own way, how
they would rejoice to think, after descending from their an
cient splendor in the drawing-rooms of the South, to the
sordid auction rooms of the conquering North, they had at
last fallen into worthy and honored hands, A handsome
sofa from the Slidell family, of Mason and Slidell fame; a
dower-chest from the Hallidays, old and worm-eaten in the
wooden lining, but wonderfully carved by Italian workmen,
and brought over by the first Mrs, Halliday, are here,
Mrs. Tucker showed me a piece of the wood taken from the
inside, when they had it relined, and it was porous, almost
sponge-like, from the ravages of the worm. Naturalists said
that the traces bore evidence of nothing which ever grew
here, so the inference was the chest was of great antiquity
many years before the Hallidays purchased it, and the carv
ing bore traces of great skiH. In the hall there is a tall and
stately clock, which reminds one of Longfellow's "old clock
on the stairs," and as it ticks the hours away, one dreams of
the melancholy cadence of the refrain in the poem, "Forever—
Never  Nevei' — Forever." Just three minutes after General
Logan ceased to breathe, this clock tolled solemnly three
times, and now, whenever they hear it strike that memorable
hour, their thoughts go back to that day, and its sad scenes

370 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
are lived in sorrowful remembrance over again. For them
it is, indeed, the "horologe of eternity."
Among the historical pieces of furniture is a candlestick
of old mahogany, long used by Henry Clay. One muses
over this piece of polished wood which once held the light
shed over the brilHant orator as he read his Bible, or penned
his letters; and reflects on the brilliancy of mind so much
more fleeting here than the humblest things which surround
us. In the dining-room are the tables, also of handsome old
mahogany, with quaint brass legs, around which once sat the
Carrolls of Carrollton and their guests, of long-ago Colonial
times. Perhaps these silent boards heard many a toast to
the King's health before the famous member of the family
saw fit to immortalize the name by placing it on the death
less Declaration of Independence. Where are now the
beauty and the wit that circled round this table come to such
fit servitude at last? Do they ever revisit old haunts? But
little such ponderings as these vexed the souls of the brilliant
assemblage of dames that gathered there on the first enter
tainment given since Calumet Place was in mourning. This
¦was during my visit, and on the occasion of an Army and
Navy luncheon, and I venture to say that round that ancient
historic table no lovelier, brighter women ever sat than those
who responded to Mrs. Logan's first call since her great sor
row, Mrs. Drum, the wife of the popular General, whom
no one could know without loving, and the charming Miss
Blackburn, daughter of the Senator from Kentucky, were
the ones I saw most of, but I was positively bewildered with
the diamond sparks of wit and the flashing of the bright
eyes around me. Once more I repeated my old decision that
for savoir-vivre, for kind hearts, for tact and cultivation, the
ladies of the Army and Navy challenge the world; that is,
the social world, as Lord Chesterfield said, the beau monde.
In this same room, now laden with lovely fine china, tow
ered the old-time book-cases of Daniel Webster. Where
the tomes which once distinguished them have been scat
tered, I know not, but their last days are devoted to the safe
keeping of Mrs. Logan's pretty tea-cups, among them a set
of brown china which came over in the Mayflower, and was
presented by a friend from Massachusetts. The mahogany
dressing-case used by Buchanan when he was our Minister
to the Court of St. James now reflects back the beautiful
face of Mrs. Logan, as she makes her toilet, and in another

GENERAL LOGAN. 371
room is a lovely Venetian mirror which gave back the fair
dames' images in the old days of the Doges. I Hke to think
that all climes and all ages have sent their quota to my noble
friend. If I had jewels, which would burn and shine to tes
tify my love and admiration for her, I would offer them as
freely as pious pilgrims do to saintly shrines ; but these feeble
words are like a chaplet of wild flowers flung at her feet,
quickly to fade and be forgotten. And yet, no! For she
prizes as dearly the blossom, wet with the heart-dew of
friendship, as the costliest offering that wealth could bestow.
It was even so with the dear General ! It is true of their
children !
The portieres, made of Navajo blankets, are not only
handsome but almost indestructible. General Logan often
saw the Indians making them, and they have many interest
ing plates of the process. In fact, the house abounds with
both Indian and Mexican pictures and curios of all kinds. A
very interesting portrait is that of Peta-La-Sha-Ra, Chief of
the Pawnees, who was noted for forbidding the custom
among his tribe of offering human sacrifices. He is gor
geously dressed and wears the gigantic war-bonnet, trimmed
with trailing turkey-feathers reaching to the feet, worn by
the Sioux and northern Indians generally. The water-bot
tles made of grass by the Piscarilla Apaches, and the can
teens, or jars, made by the Zuni Indians, are wonderfully
ingenious and pretty, and the moccasins and tobacco-pouches
are really beautiful. Near the striking portrait of the great
Navajo.Chief Joseph of the Nez Perces, hangs a singular look
ing horn, and " thereby hangs a tale." This barbaric vessel
was once used to carry mescal, or the Mexican whisky, which
is made from the roots of the plant called Spanish bayonet. It
was given to General Logan on a trip to Sonora, Old Mexico,
with Governor Sheldon, then Governor of New Mexico, and
when presented it was full of the mescal. The General
meant to take it back to Santa Y€, where he was visiting his
daughter, Mrs. Tucker, but forgot it at Lamy Station. When
he recovered it, he observed that the contents were partly
gone. However, some quantity remained, which was still in
the horn when Mrs. Logan hung it upon a shield of black
velvet in her home on Twelfth Street, in Washington, the
following winter. The old colored fireman, who had charge
of the grates, discovered in some way that this horn con
tained something enticing; so one day, after recklessly drain-

372 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
ing this dangerous draught distilled beneath western suns,
he suddenly horrified the peaceful inmates of the house by
the antics of a maniac, and they were obliged to dismiss him,
as the effects did not speedily wear off. It is to be supposed
that it did later, however, or else the Mexicans were more
capable of bearing fiery stimulants than the Africans.
Some very ancient Spanish curiosities are a shield of raw
hide and a frame of a holy picture from a church at Santa
F^, hewn out with an axe, before tools were invented. The
Moqui plaques are evidences of taste and skill on the part of
these people, -who seemed to have had so little to suggest
beauty in their lives or to encourage them to works of art.
A trophy of the General's skill in shooting is a pair of
pistols won from Fred Whitehead, the crack shot of the
army. Another fine tropy was presented by Edwin S.
McCook, brother of the Hon. Anson McCook, Secretary
of the Senate, formerly General in the army^ and Mem
ber of Congress. It is the largest moose-head I ever saw.
The animal -was shot in Dakota. The end of this brave man
was a striking example of base ingratitude. He -was mur
dered by a man whom he had often befriended, and whose
family he had saved from being burned to death.
As you pass through the drawing-room you behold with
wonder a fairy-like structure that seems to have arisen at the
spell of some weird magician, so quickly and wondrously has
the labor been performed. Yet it is no dream of beautiful
memories, but an enduring monument reared by a woman's
love, aided by the skillful brain of an architect who -vyas also
a friend. This is Memorial Hall, planned by Mrs. Logan
and the talented Mr. Mullen, of Washington, a man who
knew well many of the great ones lately passed away. There
are here many interesting portraits taken during the Mexican
and Civil Wars, both of the General and those associated
with him. One is a photograph of the Commander-in-Chief
and Staff of the Grand Army of the Republic, N. P. Chip-
man, Fred A. Staring, Timothy Lubey and William T.
Collins. I observed a frame hung near one of the General's
portraits, which contained some printed words, which at once
arrested my attention. They were, "Good-Bye, Old Arm."
Dedicated to Our Country's Wounded Heroes.
" In the hospital at Nashville, a wounded hero was lying on
the amputation table under the influence of chloroform.

GENERAL LOGAN. 373
They cut off his strong right arm and cast it, all bleeding,
upon the pile of human limbs. Then they laid him gently upon
his couch. He woke from his stupor and missed his arm.
With his left arm he lifted the cloth and there was nothing
but the gory stump. ' Where is my arm ? ' he cried, ' get
my arm ; I want to see it once more, my strong right arm ! '
They brought it to him. He took hold of the cold, clammy
fingers, and, looking steadfastly at the poor dead member,
thus addressed it with tearful earnestness: ' Good-Bye, Old
Arm ! We have been a long time together. We must part
now, Good-Bye, Old Arm ! You'll never fire another carbine,
nor swing another saber for the Government!' And the
tears rolled down his cheeks. He then said to those standing
by: ' Understand, I don't. regret its loss. It has been torn
from my body that not one state shall be torn from this
Glorious Union'."
General Logan was very fond of dwelling on this sad, yet
inspiring incident. How terrible it is to think of all the
unrecorded suffering of the war! This solemn thought comes,
I think, more at the Arlington Cemetery than anywhere
else, when we stand by the monument erected to the memory
of the nameless dead, the heroes whose friends could not
find their remains. Surely, somewhere, there must be an
unerring record kept. This we believe. There is a photo
graph of Logan and his staff during the war, an engraving
of " Sherman's March to the Sea." Here hangs the sword
presented after Vicksburg. There hangs the shield of the
Headquarters of the Army of the Tennessee, Fifteenth and
Seventeenth Corps. On either side of the door hang two
old flags. One is the banner of the Sixteenth Illinois, and
went all through the war. The other was presented by a
friend and hung over his saddle on the occasion of the Grand
Review. There are prints of the siege of Vicksburg, and
of Logan's Division going into fight at the Crater at Fort
Hill. There is the map of Vicksburg. Next hangs the
painting of the house where General Logan was born, at
Murphysboro, Jackson County, Illinois. There is a piece of
redwood tree cut down by General Logan in California.
Perhaps the most striking object in the whole place is
Flannery's beautiful bust of the hero, in fine white marble,
against its background of crimson plush. It is perfect in the
likeness, lofty in the expression, and altogether faultless.

374 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
The exquisite regularity of the features is wonderfully repro
duced in the marble.
All the stained glass work in the ceiling is lovely in design
and execution, and the two memorial windows are peculiarly
interesting. One contains beautifully illumined badges of
the various organizations to which General Logan belonged:
the Grand Commander badge of the Grand Army of the
Republic, next, the Loyal Legion badge of the Army of the
Tennessee, then of the Chevalier Bayard Commandery of
Chicago, and the Knight Templar, Masonic badge. In the
center of the window is the coat of arms of the Logan
family, a blood-red heart pierced by three passion nails.
Motto — Hoc majorum virtus. Just above the door leading
to a delightful conservatory beyond hangs a hand-painted
copy in china of this coat of arms. The memorial window
on the south side contains the illuminated portrait of General
Logan, with the -words underneath, "Major-General John
A. Logan," on a red ribbon unfurled, then palm-branches,
always used for the victorious and the dead, then the two
corps flags of the Army of the Tennessee, red and -white,
blue and yellow, with gold fringes. Just under these flags
is the medal voted by Congress just after the siege of Vicks
burg, July 4, 1864. Last, sword and gun crossed, pen and
manuscript laid aside. Emblems so beautiful, yet so sadly
expressive of the fact that his life-work was done, are these!
Among the interesting flags in their collection, I remember
specially a gorgeous banner, with the General's portrait,
which was carried in California at the reunion of the G. A.
R., not long before his death. Another fondly treasured is
the flag of the Army of the Tennessee, of dark blue silk,
which has been carefully repaired and preserved. A stirring
picture is one of the battle-scene at Atlanta, just after the
death of McPherson, when Logan instantly assumed com
mand and gained the victory. There is an old print of the
Thirty-Sixth Congress, which puzzles many people, as it is
almost impossible to find the faces of Logan and Conkling
there, or to believe when you are told that these smooth
features were destined to be so changed by the stern
experiences of after years, I tried for some time one day,
when Mrs, Tucker told me her father's face was there, to
find it among the crowd, but gave it up as imppossible,
though I found there many another historic and distinguished
face.

GENERAL LOGAN. 375
Here are the holsters and field-glasses General Logan
carried through the war, and the musket he carried to the
Battle of Bull Run, when he rushed from the House of Con
gress in citizen's clothes across the bridge. How these things
will gro-w more precious with every year as history and time
illumine his grand and heroic form ! There hangs an engrav
ing of the managers of the House of Representatives of the
impeachment of Andrew Johnson, Besides General Logan,
there were present Benjamin Butler, James S, Wilson, now
Senator from Iowa, Thaddeus Stevens, George S, Boutwell,
Thomas Wilson and John A, Bingham, of Ohio, There is a
picture of the Chevalier Bayard Commandery, taken at the
time of the Conclave at St, Louis, on the 3 2d of September,
1886, and the Escutcheon of Military Record, Mrs, Logan
has many perfectly arranged scrap-books, containing personal
mention, volumes of letters of congratulation on his election
to the Senate, and later, the many comments on his death.
His library books are still arranged just as he left them,
history, poetry, biography and fiction all assembled. General
Logan -was very fond indeed of fine poetry. He loved
Shakespeare, and Dickens was one of his favorite novelists.
But I think with him the ancient classics writers stood first,
after all. It was touching to see the book-marks, just as he
left them, in Sallust and Eschylus, Tacitus, Suetonius and
others. One fears he may return at any moment and find
the marks displaced. But, ah! he will not come, let his
treasures be rifled as they will. Small dread of that since
they are tended by reverent and loving hands, to whom the
slightest token of his love and presence are dear. He seemed
to dwell greatly on books pertaining to immortality. At one
time he studied constantly for two years on the Bible, and he
fully and devoutly believed in its inspiration. Close by is the
Koran, with references marked, and many worjcs on theology.
As his daughter Dolly and myself sat musing over his
favorite books, feeHng that thus we could almost speak with
him once more, something brought up the name of his old
friend. General Leggett, of Cleveland. I had just before
met him at our home in Lockport, being enchanted to hear
he knew the Logans well, and it seems that the General, in his
last illness, dreamed that he was at the home of the Leggetts,
and would say to his wife, "Mary, we must go home."
Alas ! that he did indeed go home so soon ! I did not wonder,
when I came to know General Leggett and his wife, that the

376 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
family of General Logan prized their regard so highly. The
General is a superb character, a thorough gentleman and a
finished scholar, and Mrs. Leggett is one of the prettiest and
most charming women I ever knew. I was at once aware
of her perfect freedom from any of the small weaknesses of
jealousy, for she spoke in such glowing terms of praise of so
many other women. General Leggett still carries painful
reminders of the glorious battles he fought. But, if the
bullets remain, glory has its balm to soothe the pain.
The memorial resolutions that were sent from all over the
United States on hearing of the intrepid chieftain's death
were clothed in such royal garb, and uttered in such knightly
phrasing, that they might have been deemed fit messages for
monarchs to send or to receive. Some -were in black velvet,
some in white, and some in purple silk. The first, presented
at the funeral, was from the U. S. Grant Post, of New
York. Among the most beautiful were those from Illinois,
Kings County, Nevv York and Boston. There were the res
olutions of the Loyal Legion, Michigan Commandery; of the
Englewood Union Veteran Club, of Chicago; and the Old
Guard Post, of Dayton, Ohio, sent a memorial in the shape
of a Grand Army badge — eagle and star. The Veteran
Union League, of Chicago, and Ulysses S. Grant Post sent
resolutions, as did also the J. B. Stedman Post, of Ohio, and
the Logan Invincibles, of Baltimore, I was proud to observe
that the memorial resolutions of the Union Veteran League,
of Erie County, were beautifully worded and arranged. The
furniture in this Memorial Hall was used by him in his
library at Chicago, and was especially designed by him. The
family prize it on that account. There is the same leather-
covered couch, and the same carpet, a light ground decorated
with little yellow shields. The chair he used in the Senate
was presented to Mrs. Logan, and is here. It is a temple
reared to glory and to love, and if the hero's shade might
glance here for a moment, he would see how fond a worship
consecrated this fair spot to his memory.
" Rest, soldier, rest ! for peace is thine;
Rest, warrior ! for earth's strife is o'er;
Rest, statesman ! Fame's bright laurels twine
Thy noble deeds; the golden shore
For thee is won, while tears are shed
For lion-hearted Logan, dead."

THE NEW REGIME. 377
CHAPTER XV.
A Glimpse of the New Regime.
" To him each lady's look was lent;
On him each courtier's eye was bent ;
Midst furs, and silk, and jewels' sheen
He stood, in simple Lincoln green,
The center of the glittering ring.
And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King !"
And Indiana's Senator is Columbia's leader! Like James
Fitz-James, of Scotland, in the minstrel's story, though other
forms may tower above him, and jewels gleam, and bright
eyes shine upon him, and brilliant ambassadors from foreign
courts surround him, yet he will still be the principal figure
as long as he lives in that place which has been occupied by
so many strangely differing personages. The King is dead!
Long live the King! Though our RepubHc has not proved
itself ungrateful, having duly honored its heroes, yet it is
quite as fickle as even' the French. For who in Washington
to-day stops to think of Cleveland or Arthur? The King is
dead! Long live the King! The spring shone radiantly on
the entrance of the new regime, and in the White House
grounds the crocus and violet blossomed gaily in spite of
death and change. As I passed up the walk the birds sang,
and the flowers looked up smilingly from their grassy bed, as
if in mockery of the past. I thought within myself, "Oh,
for one hour of the glorious Grant, of our own Haroun Al
Raschid!" If I should tell him that my husband had nearly
worn himself out in making speeches urging him for Presi
dent, and had been beaten by all the base efforts that slander
and money could effect, by the men who, disappointed at not
being nominated for Congress themselves, confined their
labors solely to effect his defeat, never once uttering a word
to help the National cause, how the great warrior-statesman
would have crushed such traitors under his heel! These
reflections filled my mind while waiting to be admitted into
the presence of the President. As I at last passed into the
library, for a moment it, too, seemed haunted by the ghosts of
Garfield and of Arthur. A brilliant burst of sunlight shone
on the table sent by the English Queen, and shed a halo of
splendor over the head of Benjamin Harrison. Like the
Scottish King,

378 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
" On his bold visage middle age
Has slightly pressed its signet sage. "
Determination sits upon the massive brow, and they who
claim that Harrison is much influenced by this or that Senator
must be shallow readers of Physiognomy. I believe, as the
result of my impressions on that day, that he means to do .
strictly right by every one, as far as it lies in the power of
one man to do so. The Administration is yet in its infancy,
but, whatever happens, I shall not believe he was swayed or
intimidated. He is, perhaps, likely to commit some injustice
by too rigidly adhering to some rule or plan of action he
may have laid out for himself, thereby playing unconsciously
into the hands of unscrupulous men, who are thus enabled to
work out their schemes of revenge or future power for them
selves. If possible, he should not allow his high office to be
perverted to those base uses. But that Almighty Power
which has placed him at the head of the Government can
alone inspire him, and defend his power from the hand of
the wicked and cruel ones, who seek to turn it to the ruin of
the noble and the advancement of the vile. Time and
Nemesis, who seem to walk hand-in-hand through the revolv
ing years, have placed Blaine and Windom in the Cabinet
of the United States once more. In this Harrison seems so
clearly the chosen Avenger that I deem it a favorable augury
of good works yet to be, an omen that right will triumph,
that the Heroic will supersede the Silver age. These two
officers have wisely chosen for their first assistants the finest
possible men. Mr. Blaine has his son. Walker, and Mr.
Windom has Gen. George Batcheller. Secretary Noble
is , fortunate in securing the aid and companionship of General
Bussey. The Attorney- General, Miller, we have not the
pleasure of knowing, but I admire the friendship which
prompted the President to reward a life-long friend, and
certainly none would know his worth and usefulness better
than the one with whom he had been so long associated.
Secretary Proctor, of the War Department, we met for the
first time on this recent visit to Washington, and in accord
ance with my favorite idea, I pronounce him a great man.
First, because immense wealth has not inflated him with
purse-pride, and next the sudden elevation to high position
has not disturbed his mind in the least, and last and best, for
his true sympathy with others, his capacity to distinguish

THE NEW REGIME. 379
merit from littleness. I have not met Secretary Tracy, of the
Navy, though he is an old and admired friend of Mr.
Crowley, nor Secretary Rusk, of the Agricultural Depart
ment, though one day I happened to be at the White House
door just as the entire Cabinet were on their way to a meet
ing, and the new member just created looked benignant
enough to cause the goddess Ceres to smile upon the country.
I thought they formed quite an imposing band that day,
though it happened that the Premier, Mr, Blaine, was the
last in the distinguished line, as he had been detained in some
way. It is superfluous to add the seeming paradox, that, even
though last, he would always be first. This rather Hibernian
expression has the highest possible authority, that of the
Scriptures, for is it not said that the last shall be first, and the
first last? The Postmaster-General, Mr. Wanamaker, is
enveloped in such a golden mist that at first you fancy he
must be far off and almost unattainable. But, as your eyes
get accustomed to this glare of light, you find, Hke all things
dreaded most in this world, on clearer-vision a charming, un
assuming, kind and true gentleman. Not only will he gild
with royal magnificence the pageantry of the new Court of
the Republic, but he will gladden many a despondent soul
at the same time. He manifested at the outset the deep
finesse for which he is celebrated, when he secured the aid
and fellowship of General Clarkson, of Iowa, as first assist
ant. This was a coup d''e'tat worthy of a Wolsey or a
Richelieu. It insures the success of his office, and just as
fearlessly as he can tru*t his vast commercial interests to
worthy hands, so he can rest contented in the assurance that
Mr. Clarkson at the helm means safety and glory.
It remains to be seen whether, with all these tremendous
advantages, with auspices as fair as any under which a bright
star ever shone, John Wanamaker will be all that he might
be, will dare to assert and maintain his own position. For it
is not necessary, as I understand it, that he should defer to
any special person who happens to be in power, or that he
should consult anything on earth but his own conscience,
first, and Benjamin Harrison next. He is conspicuously sail
ing under the banner of Jesus, and there is nothing in that
life to afford an example of reward to the successful because
they have trampled on the wronged. Of course, to walk
reaUy in those sacred footsteps would mean crucifixion always,
but there need not be such endless abysses between theory

38o ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
and practice. Postmaster- General Wanamaker treated us
in all ways with a courtesy and gentleness for which we will
alyvays remember him most kindly. One of the great pleas
ures of spending an evening at his beautiful home is to study
the collection of rare paintings from almost every land.
Think what a privilege- it must be to own the great picture
of " Christ before Pilate!" I really think it should be ever
before the eyes of Mr. Wanamaker to remind him that
troubles and persecutions are of ttimes undeserved. Just before
the election of Harrison and Morton, I called at the Victoria
Hotel, in New York, to see Mrs. John A. Logan, previous
to her departure for Europe. It was then I met one of her
special friends, Mr. J. S. Clarkson, of Iowa. There are cer
tain turns in the fortunes of individuals and of nations in
which the character and disposition and capacity of those we
meet are shown clearly in the briefest space of time. I wish
to record here that no man whom I Have ever met bore the
test which tells of great heart and mind better than James S.
Clarkson, of Iowa. He stood in contrast with the selfish
schemes so coinmon in political life, like a spotless, peerless
gem among coinmon pebbles. There is no place too high
for such a man, none where he could lose sight of, and pity
for, others less successful. When President Harrison was so
fortunate as to secure his services in the arduous position he
now holds, that of Assistant Postmaster-General, the press of
the whole country voiced the sentiment of the people in flat
tering yet just encomiums. In one of them, this kindness I
have just spoken of is described: " Mr. Clarkson has proved
his fine spirit by remembering his friends in his new position
of power. To forget one's friends when fortune smiles is
the way of the world, but not the way of Mr. Clarkson, who
is now proving his goodness of heart, so long appreciated by
those who know him best." Said another: "He will fight
hard and long for a friend, and forgive an enemy while he is
doing it." He is known all through the West as " Ret,"
this formerly having been used as a nom de plume in corre
sponding from Washington. An intimate friend thus addressed
him, calling at the Department just after his assumption of
his office.
" D^ear Ret: It is better to be there granting a favor, than
anywhere else, asking one. Yours,
C. E. Mason."

THE NEW REGIME. 381
Having been known to decline countless offices, and hold
ing the proud independent position of editor of a leading
journal, the Des Moines State Register, it ¦was a surprise to
many that so able a man as Mr. Clarkson should have ac
cepted a position in any way secondary. But to those who
knew him best it did not seem strange, and his own words
will partially explain it to others. He says: "I feel just as I
did in the campaign last year, when I declined the chairman
ship of the National Committee to take a second place.
There is one good thing about the office, too, which is grate
ful to me. It is not so large that my occupancy of it can
excite envy, enmity or jealousy. It is hard work, inferior
rank and poor pay, and even my opponents will be willing
to let me have such minor blessings as these." He declined
the Swiss Mission, tendered to him by General Grant, and
also the Consul-Generalship of London, and was mentioned,
though against his expressed wish, for a place in the Cabinet
of Garfield. He was born in Indiana, but went in early
childhood to Iowa. He comes of a family of editors and
seems to have inherited an ability for literary work of vari
ous kinds. He has written romances, as well as poHtical
essays and articles on practical themes. He is a very fine-
looking man, with a fascinating address, and the unmistak
able stamp of intellect is observed at a glance. Said the
Waterbury American : " When yoii are with Mr. Clarkson,
you are apt to have an uneasy sense that you are being read.
Those eyes never leave you alone. He is the best sort of a
man for a friend, and the hardest sort of a man for an
enemy. He loves strongly and hates bitterly. He is gener-
ou.s to a fault. He is a tireless worker." The Des Moines
Postal Record says: "Mr. Clarkson is unquestionably the
strongest Republican in Iowa, excepting Senator Allison.
He has more enemies than some other public men in his
party, but his qualities are such that he attracts the fighting
element of his side and has always had his way in State
politics." Mr. Clarkson has been for many years devoted
to Mr. Blaine, and was at the head of the Iowa delegation
for him at each time his name was presented for the Presi
dency. He has been sent as delegate to four National Con
ventions, at the last of which he turned with his State to
Harrison, when the nomination of Allison became impos
sible. The whole country is familiar with the story of his
labors in the campaign as Vice-Chairman, and Mr. Secretary

382 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Wanamaker told Mr. Crowley that it was only after re
peated solicitation that he consented, for the sake of his
friends and his party, to take up the burden of his present
task. T'\\e Irish World says: " The supervision of Chair
man Quay, Vice-Chairman Clarkson and Treasurer Dudley
has probably never been excelled." We had known Colonel
Dudley when he was Commissioner of Pensions in Wash
ington some years before, and he is unquestionably one of
the best and brightest workers in the Republican ranks
to-day. He also has a charming wife, marvelously youthful
looking, when one realizes that she is the mother of several
grown-up children.
On my last visit to Washington I met Mrs. Clarkson, and,
though I had read the most delightful accounts of her in the
western papers, and heard attached friends speak proudly in
her praise, yet I could say, like the Queen of Sheba, that the
half had not been told me. She is not only very handsome,
fascinating and finely educated, but, something rarer still, she
has a heart, and the impulses of a noble and unspoiled nature
speak in every glance of hef bright eyes and every word she
utters. With her fine address and tact, I predict for her a
brilliant social reign in Washington. It is really a pleasure
to see people who adorn lofty positions, instead of being
compelled to wonder why fate selected them, as we often do.
Mrs. Clarkson's name was Anna Clarinda Howell. Her
husband and intimate friends call her "Ruby," She was
named after two aunts, having lost her mother in infancy.
She was born and married in Ohio, but soon after her mar
riage removed to Des Moines, where they have since resided,
and where they will be greatly missed during their life in
Washington, The Press of their Own city unite in pro
nouncing Mrs. Clarkson " as popular as she is handsome."
No matter how high the star of James S. Clarkson may rise,
no matter how brightly it may shine, the peerless " Ruby "
he chose years ago will shed a more beaming luster than
aught beside over the pathway his friends hope and believe
to be brilliant, and to which the place he now holds is but a
stepping-stone. I am told that the life of Secretary Noble has been full of
interest, and that his present high position is the deserved
reward of talent and perseverance, and great nobility of
character, in a word, that his name is a very appropriate one.
The reason for his choice of General Cyrus Bussey as first

THE NEW R'AGJME. 383
assistant are most creditable to the heads and hearts of both.
They were associated in the stirring scenes of the war, and
now they share together the pleasures of the country's peace.
When General Bussey came with the Rev. Mr. Newman to
visit me in my great sorrow, I could then See and know the
nature of the man, who, having just experienced a profound
grief himself, could sympathize with another. All his friends
will agree with me in saying that General Bussey is the
model of a soldier, a gentleman and a Christian. He is the
very soul of honor and fidelity, and Secretary Noble is for
tunate in securing his co-operation in the Department of the
Interior. His martial instincts may be said to be in the blood,
for he is descended from the line of Junot, Due D'Abrantes,
whom Napoleon made Commander of Paris and Marshal of
France. He probably inherits from the same source his
chivalry, for I have always thought Junot the most kind and
tender to the discarded Empress Josephine of any of those
by whom the Emperor was surrounded in the days of his
glory. All courtiers will smile on a -woman beloved by a
king, but how many will ever recognize a woman exiled and
forgotten? One only needs to attend a reception at Wash
ington to observe that the spirit of the days of the Knight
Templars has de23arted, for Senators and soldiers will fawn
around and flatter alike the ladies in power, no matter
how ugly, how dull, or -uninteresting they may be. There
is no time spent on those outside, and Pompey's words to
Sylla are every day verified : " Men worship the rising, and
not the setting sun." General Bussey's sincere and unaffected
piety is a direct legacy from his good parents. His father
was a Methodist minister, and Cyrus was one of a large
family. Owing to the well-known fact of ministers of that
sect constantly moving, he never staid in one place long
enough to have the advantages. One thing was in his favor,
according to Chauncey Depew, he was born in the lucky
State of Ohio. The same kind presiding genius of his
destiny caused him later to settle for some time in the per
haps equally forjiunate State of Iowa. Self-denying, indus
trious and religious through his youth, he earned the successes
of his maturer years. He became State Senator in 1858,
and in i860 he was elected delegate to the convention which
nominated Stephen A. Douglas for President. Up to this
period he had been an ardent Democrat, but, because he did
not remaia in the ranks of those who wished the continuance

384 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
of slavery and were willing to sacrifice the Union he was
"formally read out of the party for no crime but loyalty to
his country." Governor Kirkwood, who afterwards was a
member of Garfield's Cabinet, knowing the courage and ability
of the young man, made him Lieutenant-Governor at once.
Next, by order of the Government, he organized the Third
Iowa Cavalry, of which he was made Colonel, and which
behaved so gallantly at the famous battle of Pea Ridge. In
1864 he was commissioned Brigadier-General U. S. V., and
in 1865, Major-General by brevet. After the close of the
war, his health impaired by close, attention to duty, made it
imperative that he should seek a milder climate, and he went
to New Orleans. There he became a very successful mer
chant and was elected Mayor of the city, and was President
of the Chamber of Commerce of New Orleans for six years.
There he enjoyed many happy years of the most perfect
happiness given to mortals in the companionship of a beloved
wife, and there the sorrow of his Hfe came to him in her
early death, which has shaded his path forever and mixed all
its joy -with gloom.
In a very eloquent speech made by General Bussey, on the
occasion of a flag presentation by the Lafayette Post of the
Grand Army of the Republic to the College of New York
City, after giving an interesting account of the various battles
he had witnessed, and descriptions of the historic movements
of the great leaders on both sides, he concludes with saying:
" The surrender of Vicksburg, as the result of the grandest
strategy our war produced, established General Grant's reputa
tion as one of the greatest generals the -world has ever known.
To have served in the same armies, on the Same field, under
the command of the three greatest generals our war pro
duced, is an honor which I am proud to acknowledge. The
contemplation of what Grant, Sherman and Sheridan
wrought in behalf of the flag we are here to-night to honor
should fill all our hearts with a sublimer patriotism and a
deeper love of country. They reconstructed the foundations
of republican government in this country. They made the
people of every race free. Our success demonstrated to
every European Government the success of free institutions
and gave an impetus to freedom and liberty throughout the
world. Our flag, the Stars and Stripes, is the proudest ban
ner that waves in the universe. It has been sanctified by the
heroes of the Revolution, waved in triumph over our victo-

THE NEW REGIME. 385
rious army and navy in the War of 1S12, floated in triumph
over the halls of the Montezumas, and was dyed with the
blood of 300,000 gallant patriots who gave up their lives in
the War of the Rebellion. A million widows and orphans
have mourned in poverty and loneHness, that this flag might
remain the emblem of a preserved Union, without one star
effaced. To whom is it sacred, if not to the men who bore
it over two thousand battle-fields in the late war, who are
well represented here to-night as members of the Grand
Army of the RepubHc? I well remember, when I was a
boy, just after the war with Mexico, standing before a picture
of the death of Major Ringgold, where I felt my heart swell
with that something called patriotism, which makes a man
willing to die for his country. It was that feeling which
sustained me when the conflict came, and I felt the agonized
beating heart of a lovely wife when the hour came to say
farewell, when leaving for the front. It was that feeling
when the sound of rebel guns, which fired upon Fort Sum
ter, echoed over the hills of New England, and away over
the prairies of the West, which caused a boy of fifteen, a de
scendant of Israel Putnam, to carve a sword out of wood, on
which he inscribed, 'Not to be drawn except in justice, not
to be sheathed except in honor,' and, buckling this about
him, he went to a recruiting station, enlisted as a soldier and
died on the field of battle near Richmond. It was patriotism
which enabled men in the late -war to lead a forlorn hope
when they knew death was certain. In the last Century
Magazine, Gen. Horace Porter tells us that men detailed the
night before to assault the enemy's works the next morriing,
sewed cards in their clothing upon which they had written
their names, and given directions concerning the disposition
of their bodies when they should be found dead, after the
battle was over. What sublime courage was that! And yet
there was not a regiment in the army that did not contain
many men ready to step in the deadly breach whenever they
were called for heroic duty. Nearly all soldiers were brave
and ready for the post of danger; occasionally there were
men who feared to go into battle. I had one such man in
my regiment at the beginning of the war. He was one of
the finest looking men in the command, but would not go
where any fighting was to be done. This weakness was
observed by the men, who frequently made remarks in his
presence calculated to- wound a sensitive nature. This caused

386 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Millan, for that was his name, to come to me one night,
when I was ordered to send out a part of my command to
march against a force reported in camp about fifty miles dis
tant, and ask permission to go on the expedition. I said to
him, 'Millan, it is something new for you to want to go
where there is any fighting to be done.' He answered, 'I
know that the men of the regiment have questioned my
courage, and it is for that reason I come; I have always be
lieved that I would be killed the first time I went into an
engagement, and have not been able to drive that feeling out
of my mind. At the same time, I have made up my mind
to go, be the consequences -what they may. I expect to
be killed.' He then gave me instructions how to communi
cate with his family, and left with me some articles which
were to be sent them in the event of his death. I made light
of his presentiment, and told him he would come back all
right. He left me to get ready to march with the expedition
at daylight next morning. A few days prior to this time
Millan's father, who lived at Canton, Missouri, wrote his son
a letter which I have in my possession. He, too, seemed to
have had a presentiment that his son would never receive the
letter. After addressing it, as he had always done before, to
the regiment, division and army of the southwest, he wrote:
' If General Bussey sees this letter, and the one to whom it is
addressed can not see it, he will confer a favor by opening
the letter and informing the writer of the facts.' No such
indorsement had ever before been made on any of Millan's
letters. The expedition started on the 28th of May, 1862.
The official report of the engagement states: 'Our loss was
Sergt, Stanton B. Millan, killed; Capt. Israel Anderson and
Private Joseph T. French, shot through the thigh.' Poor
Millan ! It was his first and last scout. He was the only man
killed. ( See Official Report, Rebellion Records, vol. 1 3, page
"&%. ) Nearly a quarter of a century has passed since the war
ended. Our army, which, at its close, numbered a few more
than one million names on its muster-roll, soon dwindled to
twenty thousand men. A few men at the various posts
throughout the country are all that are required. The love
of the flag and the patriotism it inspires is equal to an army
of a million men, should an emergency arise requiring their
services. These students should cultivate a spirit of patri
otism and holier love for the flag, remembering that every
position of honor or trust in this great country will become

THE NE W REGIME. 387
vacant by death or otherwise, and that the places of the men
who are to-day distinguished throughout the country will be
filled by the young men of the present. There is a future
before every boy in America worthy his best efforts. A pure
Americanism, a love for the flag, habits of morality, sobriety
and energy will enable some of the boys before me to reach
positions of the highest distinction among men. Comrades
of the Grand Army of the Republic, your gift of the flag of
your country to this great college is a noble one. May all
who look upon it become inspired with the same love for it
which burns in your hearts. Your organization was founded
to dispense charity and to hold in grateful memory the names
and heroic deeds of those who gave their lives for their
country. It has been your mission to cover their graves with
nature's sweetest gift of new-born life to men. A few more
years, and your work will have been finished. The Grand
Army of the Republic will cease to exist, and if our graves
are covered with flowers it will be because those ¦who come
after us will feel the same love of country that inspired us in
the hour of our Nation's peril. I have a sublime faith in the
future of our Nation, and pray that the time may come when
this glorious flag, the Stars and Stripes, shall be the chosen
loved emblem of all nationalities who seek a home in our
midst, when every inhabitant shall become an American citi
zen, ready to uphold our flag in every crisis. Then will
peace and happiness reign in the land." (Tremendous ap
plause.) This presentiment felt by soldiers I have often heard old
veterans describe, I have even been told that they could
read on the faces of their comrades the fatal sign of the
coming dead, the shadow of the "mightiest, tenderest angel,
Azrael." A neighbor here at home, Mr. Frank Ellicott, has
assured me that he has frequently heard those things said and
marked in the army, on the eve of battle, when comrades
tell each other their secret hopes and fears, and charge their
last messages to the care of dearest friends. What friend
ships were thus formed, only broken here to be renewed in
the eternal reveiUd. General Bussey is a delightful conver-
sationafist and is deeply interested in aH refigious and spiritual
affairs. His travels all around the world, his wide acqiiaint-
ance and his warm friendships with the most distinguished
people of this age make him a most interesting companion.
On the subject of the various phases of the mind in dreams

j88 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
and delirium he tells the following story, which I give in his
own language: A YELLOW FE'VER DREAM,
PLEASANT VISIT TO THE REALM OF BEELZEBUB HIMSELF.
" While suffering from an attack of dengue fever in New
Orleans, several years ago, I dreamed that I was suddenly
seized by a repulsive character, who was attended by a score
of little devils armed with long knives and spears, which
they thrust into me. I was placed on a satin-covered lounge
and carried out of the window, and we floated away at the
rate of a hundred miles a minute. Soon I saw in the distance
an immense dome supported by monster massive pillars, and
was ushered into this great capitol, where Beelzebub_sat on a
throne. The lounge on which I lay was placed near the
throne, where I could observe what was transpiring. Beelze
bub -was receiving his ministers, one after the other, who
reported on various missions he had sent them on-. Then the
minister of war and others reported. Finally the minister of
fire came forward and reported to Beelzebub that he had
executed the -writ he had given him to arrest one  , of
New Orleans, and I was amazed to hear my own name. He
detailed the faithfulness of the troop of little devils who
assisted and who thrust the prisoner -with their knives and
lances. At the recital of these details I felt the thrust of their
knives in various parts of my body. Beelzebub inquired of
the minister if the caldron of yellow fever, which he had
ordered for New Orleans, was sufficiently malignant. The
minister replied that it was a failure, that, instead of being
yellow fever, with power to kill, it was only dengue or break-
bone fever, without power to kill. Beelzebub became ter
ribly enraged and ordered the minister to summon the firemen
who attended the fever furnace. A large number of terrible
looking men were marched in and stood in line. Beelzebub
accused them of negligence in failing to make a fire suf
ficiently hot to make yellow fever, and condemned them to
be thrown into the furnace. A large force of armed men
marched in and threw the firemen into the furnace. The
heat made by their bodies produced yellow fever, which
was sent out to do its deadly work in the world. I was so
horrified to see hundreds of people thrown into the furnace
that I awoke before my turn came."

THE NEW REGIME. 389
Capt. George Lemon, the accomplished editor of the
National Tribune, Washington, gives a fine sketch of Gen
eral Bussey, of which I here quote a few words: "Certainly
no man in the Nation has filled all the years of his manhood
more full of useful activity to the public than Gen. Cyrus
Bussey, and none have been more brilliantly successful in so
many and such widely varying lines of high effort leading to
great results. By exceptional ability and unusual force of
character he has achieved conspicuous success in many totally
different walks of life, to succeed in any one of which is as
much as comes to most men who are usually regarded as
specially fortunate. As a business man, a soldier, a legisla
tor, a commander of troops on the field of battle, as an ad
ministrator of public affairs in an extensive district in turbulent
times, and as an influential political leader he has gained high
honors, without a failure or a qualified success anywhere, or
in the most trying situation, to blot the bright record."
Captain Lemon was a devoted friend to General Logan,
and his interest in the family has endeared him to their best
friends since the General's death. When I met him at
Calumet Place, last year, he was accompanied by his brother,
an Episcopal minister, a most cultivated gentleman and a
Christian in the highest sense, being entirely free from
bigotry. The two brothers are a great contrast. Captain
Lemon, I suppose from long association with soldiers, has a
more determined air, while the brother is very gentle and
sympathetic. But the very best in all human beings is
drawn out in the atmosphere of this lovely home, over
which the finest woman in America presides, and around
which the spirit of the brave and true host. Gen. John
A. Logan, seems at times to hover. At all events, it is so
full of his memory that to talk of him seems the natural and
pleasant thing for his friends, who will ever miss him till
they m.eet again.
There was a brilliant circle of five generals whom we
met almost daily at Washington at that time. The names,
now always bright in our recollection, are: General Clark
son, General Bussey, General Batcheller, General Jackson
and General Farman. They all form part of the noblest of
our country's history, and their names are destined not to be
forgotten or disregarded. Speaking of unexpected meetings
with friends, Mr. John RusseH Young says: "As we pass
through life nothing seems more surely to happen than our

390 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
dreams." Having repeatedly found this to be true in my
own experience, though I never met any one who expressed
it so well before, I was struck with it anew on this last visit
to Washington. Old friends and new appeared as though sum
moned by an enchanter, some as bright as ever, some changed
and hardened by success. Mr. Crowley was delighted to find,
unchanged by the world, by time and travel, by fortune's
frowns or smiles, the genial and elegant Gen. George
Batcheller, of Saratoga, now first assistant with Secretary
Windom in the Treasury Department, In the earlier years,
in which my husband knew him and dearly prized his friend
ship, I had never met him, but now, when I place every dis
position and character I meet to the test of observation
formed under the tutelage of a long experience, my opinion
is worth more than it would have been in the heedlessness of
youth. For then I thought all people who smiled and acted
the part of friends were true and loving. I had not learned
to reflect that among every twelve to-day there is at least one
Judas, and that those who caress the most fondly will the
soonest betray, (When I publish the letters written to Mr.
Crowley by many, indeed most, of the leading politicians of
New York State, during the last quarter of a century, I
think the instability of human promises and politicians' truth
will be fully attested. Although I have them all arranged
and classified, I have concluded not to do this until about a
year from the present time. The contrast in the tone of
some in the same handwriting is marvelous.)
Mr. Crowley's friendship with General Batcheller begun
in the days of the State Senate of 1866, and with the famous
band of statesmen he was a conspicious favorite. Since that
time he has wandered on many a foreign shore, has dwelt
long by Egypt's pyramids, under warmer skies. It is quite
fitting now that be should shine for a while on his native
land. Brooks, the famous head-waiter at the Arlington, who
never forgets a face or never deserts a friend, had, with the
tact for which he is so justly celebrated, placed us at the
table with kindred and glorious spirits. In many respects
the Arlington, round which so many sacred memories clust
ered, seemed altered, but Brooks wa& the same, and the kind
house-keeper, Lizzie, was the same. The faithful retainers of
the house, many of whom had known my absent child, spoke
of her with deep affection. But the unrelenting years,

THE NE W REGIME. 39 1
though they had not impaired the superb beauty of the
kingly host, had dimmed the radiant warmth of his smile.
Was it the loss of the wife of his youth or was it the long
association with worldly natures that had at last ever so
slightly congealed the fountain of generous feeling? Never
mind! The fight of those eyes shone in fond welcome on
Maud, from her infancy till her death, and no coldness now
shall freeze that immortal memory away.
General Farman, another of our companions at table
d'hote, was Consul-General to Egypt when General Grant
made his trip around the world, and as General Batcheller
was at the same time the American Member of the Inter
national Tribunal, it was very natural that they should have
much to talk of, which made them very congenial. General
Batcheller gave a brilliant reception in honor of the Grants,
and General Farman gave a great dinner-party, at which
the American friends then in Cairo were present, and
appropriate speeches made by the two American hosts. At
the close of the banquet, Mr. Young says that General
Grant complimented these gentlemen highly. And if " appro
bation from Sir Hubert Stanley" was praise indeed, then
some other name must be found to describe the qualities
which would justify the encomiums of a man so truly great
as Grant. Later, General Farman went with the party on
their trip up the Nile, and his knowledge of the country
must have made him a most interesting companion. He is a
devoted student of the history and literature of Egypt. He
gave us a delightful account of the pictures and inscriptions
of the ancient country. I was quite disenchanted to hear
that the most authentic portrait of the lovely Cleopa
tra was not at all what one would dream, being sharp
and angular in outline. How could these features enslave a
Csesar or an Antony? But it may have been the fascination
of her manner alone, some subtle spell she wove around all
on whom she deigned to smile. General Batcheller declares
that what Sir Walter Scott said of Melrose Abbey applies
with equal truth to the Sphinx :
" He who would see the Sphinx aright.
Must view it by the pale moonlight; "
and that nothing could exceed the romance and the charm of
a gay party assembled there at such an hour. Symbol of
silence and mystery, on what changing scenes has this stone

392 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA
face looked! Faces of every hue, and words of every
language, have been seen and heard, since the days when
Memnon's statue first greeted the rising sun. When
General BatcheHer went to Cairo, in Egypt, it was in a
capacity and under circumstances of the highest historical
interest. To explain the nature of the office he then held,
and to describe a tragedy which seems to illustrate in a
strikingly dramatic way the peculiar customs of two nations,
supposed to be w'idely different, I will tell the tale as nearly
as I can, in his own words:
In 1875 the powers of Europe and the United States of
America joined in the establishment of an International
Tribunal in Egypt. The principle of this Court was based
upon the practice of recognizing in all non-Christian countries,
such as the Ottoman Empire, China and Japan, the right of
all foreign countries to exercise legal and political jurisdiction
of all their subjects domiciled in such countries; it being con
ceded that the laws of such non-Christian countries were in
compatible with Christian laws and the administration of
justice. To this, as the American Member of this Court,
General Batcheller was appointed by Mr. Secretary Fish, in
the first year of the organization of this Court, each of the
powers having a member. This Court had jurisdiction in
claims against the Khedive and the Khedival Government.
In 1876 this Court rendered many judgments against the
Government. This brought on a general financial crisis and
led England and France to intervene in the interest of the
bondholders of those nations. Several Commissioners were
sent to Egypt to negotiate an adjournment of the public
debt. The Egyptian tragedy has been so well told by the
New York Mail and Express that I will here give that
version, as it coincides with the story I heard from the lips
of General Batcheller himself. It is a graphic and striking
picture of life in the East; and proves at the same time that
the Saxon is not less savage than the Turk or the Tartar.
Indeed, I am incHned to think the former exceeds the latter
in cruelty and treachery.
THE NARRATION OF THE TAKING OFF OF FERITCH PASHA
IN EGYPT.
" The recent Khedive, Ismail Pasha, had Feritch for his
Finance Minister, and they were the most intimate and con
fidential of friends, but when the International Tribunal,

THE NEW REGIME. 393
under General BatcheHer, declared the government of His
Highness could not escape from the payment of the bonds
which foreign bondholders had taken in good faith, this
decision compelled the Khedive to lay down his power, and
that was the occasion of his being succeeded by his son,
Tewfik Pasha, present Khedive. The majority of these
Egyptian bonds were owned in England, and Mr. Goschen
came as England's commissioner to negotiate for their
recognition and payment. His first demand was that Feritch
should be disposed of. Of course, he immediately resigned
as Finance Minister and was succeeded by another one; but
Mr. Goschen was not satisfied. He demanded that he should
be entirely removed, Khedive Ismail Pasha asked what
was meant. He said that this man was entirely out of power
and could not interfere in any way. It was not enough to
satisfy Mr. Goschen, and, backed up by several English
navy vessels, with guns loaded to the muzzle, he demanded
of Ismail that the minister must be removed entirely, in such
tones that Ismail at last understood him, and he also under
stood that, if he did not understand Mr. Goschen and carry
out his wishes very quickly, the Khedivate should not pass
to his son Tewfik. Ismail was equal to the occasion, and
with warmest display of friendship, invited Feritch to take a
drive with him to his country palace, just outside of Cairo,
as he had done hundreds of times before. They entered the
palace together, as warm friends as ever, the Khedive going
into one set of apartments and Feritch going into another.
In a few minutes one of the younger of Ismail Pasha's sons
¦ appeared and told Feritch that his father had gone through
the gardens and down to the Nile, where his yacht was wait
ing, and here he would be happy to have him join him.
Thereupon the two walked together to the yacht, when the
son told Feritch that he would find his father below in the
saloon, and handed him a sealed letter, and stepped off the
boat on shore again. The gang plank was immediately
drawn in and the vessel moved off. The officers of the ship
stood well armed to see that their victim did not escape.
The letter informed Feritch that he was condemned for trea
son to banishment to Dongola for life, that his property was
confiscated, and his harem of 300 women should go to the
dogs. The consternation of the man can be better imagined
than described. The sudden change from ice to fire described
by Dante is one of the punishments of the wicked, in the

394 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Inferno, and this was realized within the single breast -which
now contained both ice and fire. The captain told Feritch
that he found himself charged with a very disagreeable duty,
and yet he should be treated like a gentleman and like a
great officer, should have the freedom of the yacht, and
everything should be done that lay within the captain's power
to make his transition to Dongola as pleasant as possible.
The captain invited him to dinner in the saloon, which,
being finished, the captain heard the sudden call of duty on
deck for himself and excused himself for a moment. The
shadows of night now set in. The Pasha was quietly stran
gled, his dead body put into a bag filled with stones, and his
Dongola was found to be the bottom of the muddy Nile,
whose swash and scour very soon stripped the flesh of the
bones, quartered the frame and made either detection or
recognition impossible. The yacht returned to Cairo, went
into its moorings again at Ismail's country palace grounds.
Ismail drove back' to the capital and informed Mr. Goschen
that his wishes had been complied with, and Mr. Goschen
was satisfied, and with him was satisfied the whole of the
British nation. It is government performances of this kind
on the part of Great Britain, so frequently displayed through
out India and Egypt, and other places on this globe that fall
under her dominion, that has made the other nations of the
earth call the British " the Turks of Christendom." An
Egyptian spell was evidently woven around General Batch
eller, as well as General Farman. They would leave the
smiling verdure and the changeful skies of the New World
for Egypt. "Egypt with its implacable azure, sadder than
the deep night of Erebus, never a cloud, never a shadow, and
always the red sanguine sun which glares down upon you
like the eye of a Cyclops! From that sky of bronze no tear
has ever yet fallen upon the desolation of the land ; it is only
a vast covering for a tomb, the dome of a necropolis, a sky
dead and dried up like the mummies it hangs over! Truly
an awful land! All things in it are gloomy, enigmatic,
incomprehensible! Forever and everywhere are sculptured
and painted interminable hieroglyphics, telling in language
unintelligible of things which are no longer known and
which belong, doubtless, to the vanished nations of the past;
prodigious buried works wherein a whole nation was sacri
ficed to write the epitaph of one king. Mystery and granite
— this is Egypt." This fragment of Theophile Gautier'sde-

THE NEW REGIME. 395
scription in his story of Cleopatra agrees with the opinions
expressed by these two enthusiastic lovers of Egypt. Gen
eral Batcheller assured me that the beguiling story of
" Askaros Kassis, the Copt: A Romance of Modern Egypt,"
written by a former Consul-General, Mr. Edward De Leon,
was a most truthful picture of Hfe in the Orient, and posi
tively based on facts.
The East is truly the land of romance, and Moore has pre
served the roses of Persia unfading in his beautiful Lalla
Rookh, and the story of Vathek enchants the reader. Still
rnore interesting it is to hear it from friends who have lived
there and actually moved in those scenes, which hitherto have
been associated with the dreams of the poet and the legends
of the Arabian Nights. General Batcheller's legion of
friends, while they rejoiced in the knowledge that they would
not have to part \vith him, yet sympathized in his longing
for the Sphinx and the Nile. The following letter from Mr.
Hamilton Fish, who, like the others, continues the regard
once inspired, so well expresses this feeling that it furnishes
its own excuse for my failure in returning it, when the Gen
eral kindly offered it to me to read one morning at the
breakfast table. I promise to send it back, now, however,
having secured a copy of it, as I know that Gene^'al Batcheller
prizes every token from the hand of the friend who honored
him -with so great a trust: 25 1 East Seventeenth Street,
New York, November 18, 1889,
My Dear General : — I hardly know whether to congratulate you on your
appointment to a most important position which you didn't desire, or to
regret your not receiving the place which you did desire, and which you
are so fully equipped for. On the whole, I take the hopeful side, and the
safe side and I congratulate the Public (with a big P.) on getting a right
good man in one of the most important and influential places of the Gov
ernment. I hope that you will find it pleasant, and that you and Mrs.
Batcheller will find Washington agreeable. Mrs. Batcheller will contribute,
I know, to make it such to others. My kindest regards to her, and my best
wishes for you in the position you are about to enter upon, and in the
enlarged future before you. 'Very faithfully yours, Hamilton Fish.
Hon. Geo. S. Batcheller,
Assembly Chamber, Albany.
This charming letter, which I consider perfect of its kind,
speaks in such admirable language the hopes of his friends,
that with it, I will say au rcvoir to the much-admired First-

396 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Assistant-Secretary of the Treasury, and turn to our
next neighbor at the Arlington table. General Joseph C.
Jackson, of New York City. To those who have not
enjoyed the pleasure of meeting him, I will endeavor to de
scribe him, but words can never portray the air of perfect
good breeding, the amiable charm of the man of the world.
Perhaps to say he is one who unites a good heart and brilliant
mind with all outward graces would best delineate this
popular gentleman. His bonhomie at all times is as fresh
as his boutonniere, and his presence at a dinner-table is
delightful. He has for some years been practicing law in
New York, but his native city is Newark, New Jersey. He
is of very interesting parentage. His father was the Hon.
John P. Jackson, and his mother was the daughter of
Hon Frederick Wolcott, a distinguished jurist of Con
necticut, and a most admirable patriot, as an ancedote of him
well illustrates. There was a statue of George the Third on
Bowling Green, in the old Colonial days, and it was most
righteously taken from its undeserved pedestal, and melted
and made into bullets by Mr. Wolcott and his family. I
only wish that the statues of all the English rulers from
King Henry the Eighth to Victoria might have been treated
in the same manner. General Jackson's early training pre
pared him for his later military experience, for he attended
while quite young the military school at West Point, kept by
Colonel Kingsley. He next went to Phillips Academy,
Massachusetts, and from there to Yale. As soon as he had
graduated he performed what may be considered one of the
noblest tasks in the world. This was to prepare a large
class of young men for admission to Yale, Princeton and
William's Colleges and the University of Cambridge in
England. The steps by which he earned his military promo
tion show the worth and perseverance of the man. Such
records as these speak more than volumes of ordinary
praise. It is to such as General Jackson that the nation
should point with pride and love to choose to place in her
council halls. The time to honor these distinguished men is
the present, while they are in the prime of life, and while
their valuable experience can best benefit the Nation. The
memory of their services should prompt a recognition in
time, for it will not be long ere those who, by eloquent
speech or deed, took part in the foundation of our noblest
institutions will have passed be}'ond the reach of our reward

THE NEW REGIME. 397
or our neglect. I find in the fifth volume of New York
Cotemporaneous ^Biography, and in the third volume of
Appleton's Encyclopedia of Biography, the following facts
in regard to the career of General Jackson: In the spring
of 1861 he was appointed Aide-de-Camp to Brig. -Gen.
Robert Anderson, U. S. A., and ordered to Kentucky; sub
sequently commissioned Second Lieutenant First New Jersey
Volunteers, and appointed Aide to Gen. Philip Kearny.
In December, 1 861, he was ordered to the Division Staff of
Maj. -Gen. W. B. Franklin, U.S. A., and was commissioned
Captain and A. D. C. U. S. Volunteers, for brave conduct
during the seven days' battles before Richmond in the sum
mer of 1862; Commissioned Lieutenant-Colonel 26th New
Jersey Volunteers, December, 1862; while at Falmouth, Va.,
he was re-assigned to the staff of the left wing. Army of the
Potomac, then composed of the First, Sixth and part of the
Third Corps. He was brevetted Colonel U. S. Volunteers
for "gallant and meritorious conduct at the battle of Fred
ericksburg, Virginia," December 13th, 1862, and was
brevetted Brigadier-General for "faithful and meritorious
service in the field" March 13, 1865. Besides serving in
many lesser engagements, performing duty on courts-
martial, and in other important positions. General Jackson
participated in the following battles of the War of the
Rebellion : Burke's Station, Manassas Junction, Golding Farm,
Yorktown, West Point, Mechanicsville, Fair Oaks, Gaines
Mill, Savage Station, White Oak Swamp, Charles City
Cross Roads, Malvern Hill, Second Bull Run, Chantilly,
Crampton Gap, Antietam, Fredericksburg, and second
attack on Fredericksburg. Near the close of his term of
service he 'was appointed by the War Department a Com
missioner of U. S. Naval credits. The Governor of New
Jersey, in his message to the legislature, announced that by
this service Colonel Jackson had saved the state the ex
penditure of nearly a million dollars. On the expiration of
his term of service he resumed the practice of law in the
City of New York ; was appointed Assitant District- Attor
ney for the Southern District of New York in 1870, and
held that position during Judge Pierrepont's term, during
which he conducted a very large number of important
prosecutions in behalf of the Government, before Judges
Woodruff and Benedict. He has since been continuously en
gaged in general practice in both State and Federal Courts.

398 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
Since the organization of the party. General Jackson has
always been a staunch Republican, has been a delegate to
several important conventions, a member of the New York
Republican County Committee (as he is at present), and has
always enjoyed the acquaintance and confidence of the best
classes of citizens. He is one of the earliest members of the
Union League Club, and is identified with patriotic, educa
tional and benevolent institutions, among which may be
named the Society of the Army of the Potomac, George
Washington Post No. 103, Grand Army of the Republic,
Yale Alumni Association, New York City Mission and
Tract Society, American Tract Society, American Bible
Society, Law Institute, The Bar Association, and many
others. He has always been found ready to aid to the best
¦of his ability, with voice and pen, with personal effort and
pecuniary contributions, the cause of good government, of
sound education and of pure religion. Not only has he
made many effective speeches, particularly throughout the
States of New York and New Jersey, during the exciting
Presidential campaigns of the last tw^enty-five years, but, in
an unostentatious way has delivered addresses on literary,
historical and practical topics for the benefit of churches and
¦other institutions, 'with no expectation of pecuniary reward.
General Jackson is a favorite with all the bright people. His
magnetic and sunny nature seems to attract them at once.
One morning, during this visit, I was in Mrs. Hiscock's
parlor, and it was quite occupied with people waiting to see
Senator Hiscock. Among the others was a very distin
guished looking young man, whose pale intellectual face
shone out like a star. As he passed out, Mrs. Hiscock told
me he was Allen Thorndike Rice, the young Minister to
Russia. "Ah," I exclaimed, " I wish you had presented him
to me, for I admire his courage and his ability." Well, no
sooner had I stepped into the hall, than I beheld the young
statesman in close confab with the genial General Jackson,
who is one of those who wish to share every pleasure with a
friend. He immediately introduced me to the celebrated
editor, and I enjoyed a conversation which his death, so soon
after, has engraven on my memory. He had been told of
Mr. Crowley's defeat for Congress by the union of Niagara
County bolters, composed entirely of men who were indebted
to Mr. Crowley for all the positions they had ever held them
selves, with the well-known lobbyist, John Wiley. When I

THE NE W REGIME. 399
told him the particulars, especially the mixing of tickets on
the night before election, by a well-known editor of Buffalo,
he expressed great sympathy and indignation. He specially
requested me to write out an exact statement, giving names
and all, and he would like very much to publish it in his maga
zine, the North American Review. I promised to do so on my
return to Lockport, but I was detained in Washington by
the charming friends I met there much longer than I had
expected, and, alas! ere I had reached home, the great editor,
the kind and brilHant gentleman, was dead. Death, the
mysterious and the incomprehensible one, had passed by the
unfortunate, the despairing and the heart-broken, and snatched
away the young, the gifted and the happy ! His life from in
fancy 'was like a tale of ancient romance, and just before I
met him one of the few clouds of his manhood had darkened
and passed away. He was defeated for Congress in New York
City by something of the same methods of frauds in ballots
and open bribery practiced on Mr. Crowley, and hence his
kind interest in our matter. I felt indeed that a brave lance
in Mr. Crowley's defense was stricken down when I heard
of his untimely death, for the world is so full of heartless
traitors, and chivalry and true manhood grow rarer every
day. I unhesitatingly pronounce Allen Thorndike Rice to
have been one of the greatest Americans of the age. Alas !
that it must be written, "have been." The sweetest and best
In Memoriam written of him was from the pen of Henry
Ames Blood, at Washington :
' ' Not to the spires of Petersburg
Our loving hearts now follow thee,
But to the high, celestial domes
That Hash along the Crystal Sea.
' ' Well didst thou do thine errand here ;
But sorely shall we miss thy face,
¦Which bore in every line the stamp
And signet of a noble race .
" Ah ! sadly shall we miss that glance.
That glance of thy unerring eyes,
Which even to the center pierced.
And read all shams through all disguise !
" Damascus had no steel more keen;
Toledo's blades no brighter shone ;
And through this modern scene of ours
Thou rodest the Bellerophon !

400 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
' ' To know thee was to know a man —
Nay, a fine god of antique race,
Whose nostrils curled in utter scorn
Of all things petty, mean and base !
" Farewell, brave heart ! It seemed to us
This earth had need enough of thee ;
But now thy mission is more vast,
Brave envoy of the Crystal Sea ! ' '
President Harrison certainly intends that the United
States shall be brilliantly represented at foreign courts. He
honored England by sending Robert Lincoln there, and
thereby gratified many friends here at home. He flat
tered France by giving her the courtly and cultured White-
law Reid, and if Allen Thorndike Rice could have gone to St.
Petersburg, the snows of Russia would have melted beneath
the starry light of his genius and his goodness. But it was
not to be. A strange fatality seems to follow all who are
requested to go to that despotic realm, for, 'tis but the other
day that Colonel Goodloe, of Kentucky, to whom this min
istry was said to be proffered, died a violent death, in the
rashest sort of impromptu duel. True it is that Russia, while
liberty smiles around her, is still in the night of cruel barba
rism. I believe no appointment of President H.Trrison thus
far has given such general delight as that of the hero's son.
Col. Frederick D. Grant, to Austria. As I before said, no
imperial flower that ever bloomed on Hapsburg's famous tree
can compare in beauty and grace with this young officer's
wife. It is well known that the most honored names in the
United States were signed to the request for this Embassy.
Senator Palmer, of Michigan, has gone to the sunny land of
Spain, the land of the olive and the vine, the land of chivalry
and adventure, whose gay hidalgoes stamped their names the
earHest on our history, Christopher Columbus, Hernando
Cortez, Francisco Pizarro, Ferdinand De Soto, Ponce de
Leon— dreamers and adventurers all! Yet from those
dreams what a reality resulted! The conquering Spanish
cavalier, cruel and relentless though he might be to the sav
age tribes he displaced, yet planted the holy cross where once
stood the heathen's idol, and the sweet face of the blessed
Virgin smiles on scenes once desecrated by barbarous sacri
fices. "Native Americans" certainly owe much to Catholic
Spain. It was something of a service to discover the coun
try which they now, with no right or reason, strive to appro-

THE NEW REGIME. 401
priate. When they object to the creed of the Catholic, they
might recall this fact. Yet one hears so little of Isabella of
Spain compared with Victoria, whose common-place virtues
are so lauded! Ex-Governor Porter, of Indiana, has gone
to beautiful Italy, loveliest of aH, for it holds Rome, imper
ishable city. As the poet of the Sierras, Joaquin Miller, says
in his beautiful ode, "Time sits and wags his beard at
Rome."
"Yet Rome is Rome ; and Rome she must
And shall remain beside her gates.
And tribute take of kings and States
Until the stars have fallen to dust."
The elegant and scholarly William Walter Phelps was
chosen to represent his country at Berlin. The shades of
Voltaire and the great Frederic' will perchance return to
welcome him at Sans-Souci, as his tastes in life so touch re
semble their own. I was truly rejoiced to see the name of
Patrick Egan as Minister to Chili, for every time an Irish-
American is recognized it strikes a shackle from the chains
of bigotry, the cruelest of all. Still another Irishman, Con
gressman Ryan, of Kansas, who was in the House of Repre
sentatives at the 'same time w^ith Mr. Crowley, has gone as
Minister to Mexico, whose sad and romantic history invests
it 'with such deep interest. The imperial splendor of Monte
zuma's halls, with the lovely gardens, and the birds whose
brilliant plumage rivaled the hues of the brightest blossoms,
the dazzling gems, the gleaming gold, though destroyed and
plundered by the daring Cortez, still rise in all their former
beauty to the mind as one reads or thinks of Mexico.
In regard to the policy of those men now in power, I ob
served in some of them rather a tendency to incline to the
policy of Queen Elizabeth, " ^ui nescit dissimulare, nescit
regnare" However this may have succeeded in those days,
it does not suit the people atid the affairs of the present day,
or the spirit of the Republic. Benjamin Franklin's familiar
proverb is the best and safest guide. DupHcity floats in its
gay craft for a time, but is doomed to sink beneath the wave
at last. It is the coward's mode of deaHng with difficulties,
which but rise again, hydraheaded, to confront him, and
which one vigorous blow would have routed. Deceit is the
natural weapon of weak minds and comes as easy and nat
ural to them as the instinct to triumph over and be revenged
upon the less favored, or the temporarily vanquished ones.

402 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
When, at the dictate of Charles the Fifth at Madrid, Estrada
temporarily superseded Cortez at Mexico as Governor, Pres
cott in his superb description says: "He soon contrived to in
flict on his rival all those annoyances by which a little mind,
in possession of unexpected power, endeavors to make his
superiority felt over a great one." Brief was this tyranny
over him who had "won an empire for Castile." I have
myself seen the witch-hazel or divining-rod bent in the hands
of some special person to find the way to hidden springs, and
this is a mystery of nature. I have also seen the divining-
rod of appeal used on different minds, with different effect,
indeed! In some, ¦who stand high in the world's estimation,
as well might one search for hidden feelings, for human
sympathy, for noble impulse in the bronze and marble statues
w^hich adorn the rotunda af Washington. Nature sometimes,
by some untold caprice, incarnates the spirit of a stupid churl
in the form of a prince. No leader born to brilliant conquest
would ever stoop to petty malice and revenge on the van
quished. In the soul of the slave sold to captivity might
dwell a pride which would make him the superior of such a
master. For who, though loaded down with sorrows and
steeped in disappointment's tears, would ever change with
the pusillanimous creature capable of using a little brief
authority to display the meanness he had so carefully hidden.
The cloven foot concealed in mounting the ladder is some
times revealed at the top. But there is a descent. Facilis est
descensus Averni.
Fortune, who sometimes relents for a moment to those ,
who are not her favorites, had arranged that the mournful
memories of the "Arlington" should be gilded with a pres
ence so bright that ^rief forgot a while to weep, and hope
gave one more radiant glance to a path she seemed to have
forsaken. All this was embodied to me in the companion
ship of Mrs. Belknap. She is a source of constant delight
and inspiration. Few, indeed, are gifted with the power of
making others so happy as is this charming and beautiful
woman. Since we parted, a few yeai's before, I had cher
ished the remembrance of her bright face, and often wished
to see it again. At last, after many vicissitudes, this wish
was realized. Her beauty is still radiant, and her queenly
and graceful form could not be seen in any throng without
a train of admiring glances in its track. I could truly say
that

THE NEW REGIME. 403
" Time's wing but seemed, in stealing o'er,
Xo leave her lovelier than before."
Her jet-black hair and deep-blue eyes form a rare combina
tion, and her expression changes in a fascinating way from
vivacity to tenderness. Her taste in dress is faultless, and it
is said that Worth was delighted to fulfill her orders, as few
whom he had ever fitted would give him the celebrity of this
lovely woman. As might be expected, the life of one so
richly endowed with personal charms and mental gifts would
be a dazzling target for envy. Though she received many
¦ an arrow sent by a jealous hand, yet she has many devoted
women friends. In the hour of sorrow, or the downfall of
beauty's reigning queen, how desolate Hfe would be without
such friends! I believe no womanly woman was ever -with
out defenders of her own sex. Friendship is proverbially
more constant than love. It is true that Chateaubriand cher
ished a tender passion for Madame Rdcamier when she was
eighty years old and blind, but such instances could be
quickly told. Mrs. Belknap has once more established a
home in Washington, and I foretell for her a brilliant salon.
General Belknap has, also, so many friends that by some the
hope is cherished that he will enter public life again. I believe
there was no one in the cabinet of General Grant to whom
he was more sincerly attached, and Mrs. Belknap, during the
time her husband was Secretary of War, was considered the
most beautiful and interesting woman in Washington. Iowa
seems not only to send forth great men, but to appreciate
them. Let her now show her affection for one of her favo
rite sons. General Belknap. Mrs. Belknap was born in Ken
tucky, and has the sweet voice and charming pronunciation
of that region. Their only daughter, Alice, seems to have
inherited the good qualities of both parents. She is already
considered very handsome, though still in " Life's prima vera,
sweet careless fifteen."
As Mrs. Belknap was the belle of Grant's Administration,
so Mrs. Kate Chase Sprague was the belle of Lincoln's. No
one has since arisen to assume the scepter of power swayed
so successfully by this queen of the social world. Nowhere
does it strike the observer with such force as in Washington,
How very rare a product beauty is, a century-plant, in fact.
Still rarer it is to find it combined with intellect, and magnet
ism aiid soul, I was never more impressed with the charm
and grace of Mrs, Chase than on meeting her last spring in

404 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
the Capital City, where she shone so many years with a
starry luster never to be forgotten. The majestic elegance
of her figure is unchanged.
" But there are forms which time to touch forbears,
And turns aside his scythe to vulgar things;
Such as was Mary's Queen of Scots; true, tears
And love destroy; and sapping sorrow wings
Charms from the charmer."
The best portrait I have ever seen of Mrs. Kate Chase is
one in which she wears the costume of Mary Stuart, and in
this she looks every inch a queen. She resembles her dis- •
tinguished father wonderfully, and he certainly had great
reason to feel the fond pride he always manifested in her.
One might count very easily the lovely women who have
left an impress on history since the time when
' ' The destinies of Athens took
Their color from Aspasia's look."
The Pericles of to-day seeks no inspiration from the lips of
beauty, and in Washington, really mingles very little in
society at all. There is in America an unwritten law that
whatever a man may find lacking in his life-companion, he
dare not seek it elsewhere, for intellectual companionship
between the sexes is a prohibited thing. Plato, if he
returned, would find no disciples here. Virtue is indeed
lovely beyond compare, but charity is more loudly extolled
in that book which most people profess to believe, but few
obey. The venerable and benevolent looking Senator Saunders,
of Nebraska, was there with his wife. I met them in a most
unexpected way, not having seen them for more than seven
years. I had a longing one day to visit the rooms -we
occupied during Maud's last winter there, and I asked the
housekeeper to tell me when they should be vacant, as, of
couse, I knew many a stranger had since lived there. The
parlor was occupied by a young Jewish couple 90 their
bridal tour, and the sleeping-room had been engaged by
Mrs. Saunders, who had not yet moved into it. In the
interval I was to pass a while there. All who have suffered
in the same way may well understand my feelings as I stood
by the well-known door of the little parlor, where so many
loving friends had once assembled to pass the last sweet-
hours with my beautiful child. I could hear the gay song

THE NEW REGIME. 405
of the young bridegroom within. In a moment he passed
out, accompanied by the dark-eyed bride, and the ticking
of the clock on the mantle as of old kept time to my beating
heart. Only a little while, and the bravest heart must cease
to ache. The housekeeper turned the key of the now silent
room, and I passed over its threshold for the first time in
five years. All was cold and still. No angel face with
golden hair smiled from that pillow now ! I thought of
Maud's words to her papa, when he came back discouraged
from the White House, and wounded by the deceit of
Arthur in the affair of the Cantilever Bridge. He said to
her, when he saw the tears in her eyes, in sorrow for his
disappointment, "Never mind, Maud, we will be back here
again some day," and her reply, the first in which she alluded
to her premonition of early death: "Yes, papa, you may, but I
shall not be here." Not here, but safe out of all the misery
and the cruelty and the treachery ! In the midst of my
musings on the sad, yet happy past, the door opened — enter
the new regime. Mrs. Saunders had come to take possession of
the room, and we met once more, for the first time in long
years. I went with Mrs. Saunders to pay a morning call at
the White House. Mrs. Harrison was then quite ill, and we
were received by Mrs. Saunders' daughter, Mrs. Russell
Harrison. She is an exceedingly pretty woman, and has
lost none of the attractions which made her such a belle as
Miss " Mamie " launders. As her husband is said to be
very powerful in the Administration, her position is a very
brilliant one. She does not seem in the least flattered by the
sudden elevation, but is very s-weet and thoughtful in all
ways. Her beauty is of the delicate blonde type, and I could
not help thinking, as we passed through the rows of nod
ding Hlies in the conservatory, how much she resembled
them herself. Here again was the memory of Maud, for
every day when we first came to Washington, she received
the fairest and freshest of the Hlies of the valley, her favorite
flower, from the White House. This is one of the scents
and blossoms I associate with my dreams of Paradise.
Of course I could not judge at all what the social success
of the White House will be with the Harrisons. It all
depends on the rallying of brilliant people around them, for
the President and his family can do but just so much as their
strength permits, and it would be impossible for them to talk
much with every one of the vast multitude. I never knew

4o6 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
a President who had such enlightened ideas on this subject
as Garfield had. He told me that he meant to call to his
aid the talent and beauty to make his administration shine
and be remembered. Mrs. Garfield was entirely above
the petty jealousy which makes such an utter failure of the
wives of so many great men, and casts a cloud over the very
success of which they should be proud. The great trouble
with this class of people is that they can not endure to share
their prosperity with any one else, not even to allow them to
bask in the edge of its sunshine. In the new regime the
Vice-President and his wife stand at the head of the social
world of the Capital City. Mrs. Morton is queen by reason
of beauty, grace, accomplishments, and elegance of surround
ings. For some years the family of the Vice-President was
an unknown and unnoticed factor in the pageant, owing to
the fact that more than one of them werp widowers. Now,
as after an eclipse, to one who eagerly scans the skies, the
radiant planets dazzle with a deeper light, so the star of our
first gentleman in the land, Levi P. Morton, stands to-day
vvith a brightness that shall shed its rays, not only on poster
ity, but on to immortality. Mrs. Morton's beauty is of the
Hebe type, still dewy, fresh and sparkling. Her faultless form
inspires Worth with his finest creations, and the gracious
manner which bewitched her husband's friends in other and
earlier days, is still, as I am told, unchanged, and holds its
potent spell. Never from America's earliest annals — from
the days of Martha Washington to the present — did the Muse
of History place her garland on a fairer or worthier frame.
May its bloom be unfading.
Let us return to the ever lovely and beloved Arlington.
There we are sure to find some great souls. The rooms
in which Senator Davis, of Virginia, once lived for many
years with his popular family, are now very pleasantly
occupied by the millionaire Congressman of Syracuse,
James J. Belden, and his wife. I had never met them
before, and I found them very agreeable. With Mr.
Belden politics is merely an amusement, although he has
ability enough to make him a dangerous opponent. He can
be a generous friend, but I should say, on my own suppo
sition merely, that he might be a determined enemy. Mrs.
Belden has traveled so much that her society is very inter
esting. It seems a pity, from our earthly stand-point, that
their only daughter should have been taken away in her

THE NEW REGIME. 407
infancy. They could have so gilded her pathway, but yet,
with so much prosperity, perhaps the Httle angel hand was
needed to point to a fairer home when earthly joys and con
flicts cease to charm. Though great wealth is theirs, yet their
treasures are not all here. About Mr. Belden there is not a
particle of that cant with which so many successful men
nauseate those whom they meet. He is very broad and
charitable in his views, and capable of the finest impulses.
Many a person of far less power in the world would do 'well
to imitate the unaffected bearing of the man who shows on
his placid exterior no sign that he is the owner of the palatial
Windsor, one of the most exclusive and elegant hotels in the
world, that he can make Congressmen and Senators, not
only by the gilded method I have objected to, but by others
equally effective. His life and example afford one more
strong and convincing proof of the truth, simplicity and
straightforwardness of the really great men of our country.
I was told by the guests that his dinner to the New York
delegation, the year before, was one of the most superb ever
given in Washington, that the royal order of Mr. Roessle
was more than ever magnificent.
A passing guest at the time was Mr, Louis Payn, whom
I have mentioned in connection with New York politics.
No man living knows more than he of the state secrets. He
enjoyed the confidence of Roscoe Conkling, and in fact of
aU the noted leaders of his day. His long experience with
real statesmen has made him a great expert in detecting sham
ones. At present he is the Fidus Achates of Mr. Piatt,
whose appearance at the helm of the political craft of the
Empire State is such a stupendous surprise. It does not
take a prophet of inspired mind to predict that the vessel
will change hands before it gets into a safe port. New
York State can accomplish nothing worthy of note while all
the so-called leaders have such strong aspirations for the
Presidency they will never win. There is absolutely no
bond of unity between them. The present handwriting on
the wall does not need a second Daniel to decipher. The
great West will continue to rule us as long as New York
ignores brains and statesmanship, and even education, and
works by secret bribery alone ! After king Midas had turned
everything to gold, he grew disgusted, and, instead of the
molten golden stream, he longed for the sparkling river.
When he asked for bread, he was weary of the offer of a

4o8 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA
golden stone. So it will at last be with our proud state. She
will remember that Daniel Webster was not a millionaire,
that when England's greatest ministers, the two Pitts, died,
the country defrayed their funeral expenses and paid their
debts. She will ask for a voice to stir the people as of old,
and not a bank-check passed from the hand of power to buy
the votes, in order that the great corporations shall own the
country and pile their fortunes like Pelion upon Ossa. The
ladder will fall, as it did with the giants of old, when they
vainly tried to scale the heights of Heaven.
One pleasant day we happened to meet at luncheon some
charming friends. In one corner of the room a pair of radi
ant faces seemed to be a powerful magnet. As they later
approached me, I was not surprised to see the genial Colonel
Robert Ingersoll and his lovely wife. They always seem so
perfectly happy, and try to make others so. I think one of the
sweetest things Ingersoll ever wrote is his tribute to Robert
Burns. I place it at once among my gems of poesy. All who
have ever conversed with this remarkable man must agree as to
his genius and eloquence, I was amused to read a descrip
tion of a statue said to have features exactly similar to
IngersoU's found in some ancient ruins. It does not require
much imagination to fancy him as having lived in days of
pagan luxury and philosophy, but always and everywhere
kind and benevolent.
Seated at our table was one friend of other days, bright
and cordial as ever, John M. Bailey, of Albany. Since then,
how gratified we were to hear that the President had made
him Collector of the Port of Albany. He really deserves the
best that fate can send him, at least in our opinion. There
were the family of the late Hon. J. W. Dwight, of
Dryden. It was the first time we had met them since the
sable garb was donned for their dear father. Adele is more
interesting than ever since her " brilliant days in France, and
her moonlit nights in Rome." Her artist's love of the beau
tiful found all its dreams fulfilled. And the brother, John,
once a slender and rafher delicate youth, has developed into a
sturdy manhood, and looks perfectly capable of managing
the great interests of the father. One thing that impressed
me deeply was the number who had been summoned from
earthly banquets since last we sat in that room of thrilling
memories.' Generals, statesmen, friends, whither had they
vanished ? Shall we meet them again somewhere ? As I

THE NEW REGIME. 409
passed out into the hall, over whose tesselated floor so many
feet, now still, have passed, I saw a face flit by me, appar
ently without recognition, a face proud and handsome, yet
which ever wore a settled look of gloom. I called to her,
"Mrs. Southerland!" and she retraced her steps, and then,
after one look, remembered me. She had lived at the Arling
ton with her family all the time we were there. I felt a
twofold interest in them, as they were Californians, for all
who hail from that glorious land of beauty seem like friends
to me. Since then her husband had died. So it was, some
change had come to every one !
The Hiscocks seem to be an exception to the general rule.
Nothing seems ever to prove to them even a temporary
obstacle. No fear of the instability of human plans seems to
occur to them. They have now, I suppose, completed the
addition then begun to their handsome rooms. Such lives as
Senator Hiscock's seem to have been arranged specially by
the goddess, by some called fickle. She is true to them, and
their schemes work 'when the proudest genius must be hum
bled in the dust. But was ever a life lived out to the end
without a change ? No one can open the pages of antiquity
and commune with the Muse of History without pondering
on the black doom Nemesis sends to those who, for long
years, have walked such rosy and perfumed paths that they
have lost the power to pity the wounded feet that have trod
the flinty by-ways. A visit to Washington in the spring-time,
though the city is in its loveliest garb, is in social 'ways, as a
matter of course, not so satisfactory as the winter season.
The true time to join the dazzling " swim " is after the holi
days. Few are settled until then, when the machinery begins
its brilliant evolution. But in the smiling April the blossoms
waste their sweetness, for the owners of the castles and pal
aces which crown this Versailles of America have departed
for Europe to find a brief nepenthe from the cares of state in
the classic haunts of the Old World. Mrs. Logan was still
abroad, and I am looking forward to a new pleasure in meet
ing her now, and if I pursue my present plan of studying
and writing up the new regime, I shall see her ere long.
But no new statue can displace hers from the place in Amer
ican hearts, where, chiseled in immortal beauty, she reigns
forever supreme. I went one morning to see a friend and
prot^g^ of hers. Miss Mary Brady, who has been for several
years in the Treasury Department. She is one of the verit-

4IO ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
able salt of the earth, and it was well worth treading the
mazes of the catacombs that underlie the vast building to find
her welcome face at last. She is a dear and valued friend of
the Logan family, and was present when the General died.
She helped him in various ways in his political campaigns,
and her intelligence and goodness of heart made her a per
fect treasure for a friend. She is just as fondly prized in the
family of young John Logan. I eagerly poured into her
sympathetic ears the story of Niagara's wars, and the rebell
ion against the rightful chieftain of the famous tribe. I
never observed until that morning how beautiful a view is
enjoyed from the windows of the Treasury. The White
House grounds are seen to fine advantage, and the wondrous
blossoming southern trees are there in all there loveliness.
This having been one of the loveliest days I ever saw in
Washington, each incident I well remember. The air was
so fragrant, and the skies so bright, that one might be be
guiled to fancy that vanished faces looked back from Heaven,
and loved voices long unheard whispered in the wooing
winds. In this frame of mind I turned my wandering footsteps to
the home of Mrs. Leland Stanford, of California, whose
deep and unfading grief for her only sOn makes her society
a shrine of comfort for weary mourners. How merciless
death was, that he did not spare this one bough of promise
to the stalwart oak of the golden land!. With a more than
princely heritage, with all bright and lovely qualities of heart
and mind, no power could stay the withering stroke, no
prayers avert the doom so soon descending. Bright in the
luxurious drawing-room shine out the noble features of the
youth thus early called. Does he see and hear the endless
regret of the lonely parents, grieving for the tender flower
of love so early transplanted to bloom in a brighter garden
than even imperial wealth could dream of creating here?
When I visited them with Mrs. Logan the year before, they
were full of plans for their great school in California, which
will be in the highest sense a monument to the memory of
their child. Far into the dim future this blessing will extend,
and other times will tell of the fair son who perished in his
early prime. If we had our bards, as they had in the olden
days, what a sweet strain would be awakened from some
inspired minstrel's harp on this lovely theme. Perhaps its
plaintive air would sound

THE NE W REGIME. 4 1 1
" O'er the waters of the West
To the land where spiiats rest."
I was much amused one day, while taking luncheon at
Mrs. Field's, to hear the ludicrous experiences of the young
authoress, Mrs. Chanler — Amelie Rives — from a cousin of
the lady's present. It seems she had not announced that she
w.ould receive visitors at all on the day published in the
papers, and she was sitting in a white wrapper, with her
golden hair all unbound when, as she expressed it, " whole
schools came." No wonder the impression went abroad that
she was eccentric in her dress!
This day was a contrast with the preceding one, being
dark and gloomy, with a steadily falHng rain. I said to Mrs.
Field that I should like to be transported to the Vale of
Avoca, and she replied that, when she visited there, it was
on just such a day, that the party could scarcely get wraps
and shawls enough to keep them warm, and comfort, not to
speak of rapture, was out of the question. I could only
think for the thousandth time that the world was full, not
only of contrast, but of disappointment.
"Life's fairest things are those which seem;
The best is that of which we dream."
But in the list of disenchantments the name of Justice Field
and his wife will not be found. The pleasure of meeting them
increases 'with every fresh experience, and not one hour of
their great privileges, standing on the top of the tree of life,
•has been wasted.
We had a charming surprise, one evening at the hotel, in
meeting some dear friends from our Lockport home, Mr.
and Mrs. Mark Nicholls and their son, Harry. They had
just been on a pleasant trip to Florida and other places in the
South, and were now returning. The next day, which was
Sunday, we visited Arlington Heights together. Never did
that sad historic spot look more lovely to me. It was due to
the presence of friends, which hightens the enchantment of
every scene and leaves on the memory a far sweeter impres
sion than if witnessed alone. Each time the traveler feels
that, no matter how often he sees it, the view is indeed
beautiful from the home of the great southern chieftain.
The form of Washington in his stately coach flits before the
mind in all the magnificence of those days, and the family of
Lee, as they took their farewell of the old home, is sadly pic-

412 ECHOES FROM NIAGARA.
tured. No more beautiful resting-place could be found for
the patriot dead, than here, on this lovely spot, where the
Potomac gently glides on with its softly sighing dirge over
the fallen brave. Like a quaint monument of other days
stand the deserted slave-quarters, whence once issued the
dusky forms obedient to the master's call. The outlines of
the prim garden-beds are seen, where the stately forms of
fair ladies bent long ago to gather the cherished flowers. In
the distance stands the "old oaken bucket," and many a pil
grim from other lands has tasted the sparkling water from
the same fount which quenched the thirst of Virginia's
famous heroes and their gallant followers. The next day we
were to visit the tomb of Washington at Mount Vernon,
but a hasty despatch from Mrs. Bulkeley, confirming their
fears in regard to her husband, called them suddenly away.
Strangely enough, some fatality has always prevented my
going to Mount Vernon. I have been invited to join innu
merable parties, but some illness of my children, or some other
special cause, always prevented me. I hope some day to
give my friends my impression of the place, however, for a
peculiar feature of my life has been that my wishes are real
ized at last. It often happens that the first zest of enjoy
ment is gone, but still they come; and this makes me feel
yet more deeply that, in the eternal life, of which this is but
a shadowy fragment and scarcely a foretaste, we shall find
our fairest idols restored, and that after this long discipline
and parting we shall cherish them far more than in this
"fearful land, where flowers so quickly fade." All races.
have their dreams of Paradise. To the Moslem appear in
fancy the fruits and flowers, the dark-eyed houris of the
Pagan's hope. To the saintly Christian the thought that he
should be admitted to the presence of Almighty God
triumphs over earthly thoughts. To the fond human heart
the one bright aspiration is to find again the loved and lost
of old. Without the presence of the idol the fadeless flowers
of Paradise would bloom unheeded; the sweetest of heav
enly music would fall coldly on the ear that listened for one
sweet voice alone, the glorious faces of the seraphim and '
cherubim, and of the angels and archangels would never
satisfy the longing for the sight of the dear face on which
we saw closed the coffin-lid, and the earth heaped, and the
rain fall, and the snow beat, and yet never bury our hope
that some day, some joyful day, Christ would give it back

THE NEW REGIME. 413
to us again! When as a child I first learned to read, I re
member the first two fines of a hymn which charmed me
much: " By cool Siloam's shady rill
How fair the lily grows."
Ever since I have associated the first glimpse of Heaven,
when we pass beyond the gates, with the sight and scent of
a bank of whitest lilies. A legend I read long ago of a star,
to which the soul first wings its flight when escaped from its
confining clay, gives the same idea of first meeting our own
and caring not what lies beyond. The star was called
Alcyone, and our loved ones were supposed to be waiting
for us there, our life's exile forgotten in love's perfect wel
come, never to be shadowed by a cruel parting again —
never — nevermore !
" It is the place where life's long dream comes true ;
It is the morning land of the Ideal,
Where smiles, transfigured to the raptured sight,
The joy whose flitting semblance now we see.
Where we shall know as visible and real
Our life's deep aspiration, old yet new,
In the sky splendor of AlcyotiCj"

ERRATA,

Page 4, eleventh line, read them instead of then.
Page 42, fifth and thirtieth lines, read Rapparees instead of Raffarees.
Page 76, read Thomas Addis Emmett as one name.
Page 109, twenty sixth line, read September instead of June.
Page 156, eleventh line, re&A posterity instead of prosterity.
Page 160, thirty-third line, read David S. Bennett instead of Daniel
S. Bennett. Page 188, tenth line, read John H. Starin instead of John B. Starin.
Page 202. twenty-seventh line, read John F. Smyth instead of John
G. .Smyth. Page 202, thirty-fifth line, read 1881 instead of 1880.

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