It has been said, too, that in oratory Webster was a sculptor rather than a painter. This seems a too subtile definition. Certainly many of his orations glow with light and color, and his powers of description were often simply pictorial. In his reply to Hayne he pictures the patriots of Massachusetts and South Carolina marching shoulder to shoulder as they went through the Revolution, or standing hand in hand around the administration of Washington, and in the wonderful peroration of that great address, as he raised his eyes to the glass skylight of the Senate chamber and saw the colors of the Republic waving from the flagstaff, he exclaimed: "Let their last feeble and lingering glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign of the republic, now known and honored throughout the earth, still full-high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured." This was full of color.

Webster loved color and bigness and vastness. Among all his creatures on his farm none were so dear to him as his great oxen, and in his last days he had these slow-moving animals driven up to his window where he could look at them, hear their breathings and gaze into their great eyes as he reclined within. The illimitable sea with its mysterious vagueness, Niagara with its terrific downpour and its resounding roar, and the great peaks of the White Mountains, all moved him profoundly. The cathedrals of Europe and the enormous bulks of

masonry that he saw in England seemed to have impressed him more than anything else he beheld. These appealed to his sense of grandeur; their mere greatness may be said to be akin to the somewhat grandiose quality of his own disposition. He was always monumental; even his familiar talk was pervaded with a certain unexpectedness of illustration that was most original.

On one occasion when the Senate had had an all-night session and the Senators were dozing in their chairs, one who sat near Webster, aroused by the noise of the janitor opening the shutters in the upper part of the great room, said: "What is that are they letting in the day-light?" "They are letting out the darkness," was Webster's reply in his deepest, grummest, bass voice, as he nodded in his chair.

As to his public life it is only necessary to recall these dates: He was first chosen a representative to the lower house of Congress from the Portsmouth, N. H., district, and took his seat in May, 1813, while the young republic was still engaged in the war with Great Britain. Two years later he was re-elected, and at the end of this his second term he retired from public office and moved to Boston, where he sought and obtained an enlargement of his already lucrative law practice. It was said that at this time he had the amplest income of any lawyer in the United States-$20,000-which was a great sum for those days, being named as the average of his earnings. In 1822 he was again elected to Congress as a representative from the Boston

district. He continued in the House of Representatives until 1827, when he was chosen United States Senator from Massachusetts for the term of six years. He was re-elected in 1833 and in 1839, but retired from the Senate in 1841 to accept the office of Secretary of State under Presi dent Harrison. When John Tyler succeeded to the Presidency, after the death of General Harrison, Mr. Webster was the only member of the Harrison Cabinet to remain in office, and in 1842 he concluded the famous Ashburton treaty, which defined the Northeastern boundary between the United States and Canada. He retired from the State Department shortly after and remained in private life until 1845, when again he was returned to the Senate by the State of Massachusetts and remained a member of that body during the Mexican war and the administration of President Taylor. When Taylor was succeeded by Fillmore, on the death of the former, in 1850, Mr. Webster again entered the Cabinet as Secretary of State and held that office up to the day of his death.

It is probable that Webster's ambition to reach the Presidency was kindled during the exciting period that followed his great speech in reply to Hayne, when he was offered much applause. This was in 1830. Ten years later he was a formidable competitor for the Whig nomination which was carried off by General Harrison. Again, in 1844, he seemed to come near realizing his hopes, but was defeated by Henry Clay. Once more, in 1848, he contested the nomination

at Baltimore and was confessedly and bitterly disappointed by the nomination of General Scott. In all these cases Webster's chagrin and disappointment were doubtless very great, but it was not until repeated failures had somewhat soured his naturally sweet and genial disposition that he made open demonstration of his disgust. He did not hesitate to say that one of these nominations was not fit to be made, and that another successful candidate was merely the representative of "availability." As Secretary of State his name will always be identified with several events of great importance in the history of the republic. His settlement of the Northeastern boundary question, his attitude toward General Jackson in the great United States bank war, his letter to Mr. Hulseman, the Austrian ambassador, concerning the Hungarian rebellion, his management of the case of the steamer Caroline, and other matters growing out of our ticklish relations with Canada, are among the points which stand out prominently in his career as a minister of state.

In debate Webster was not only dignified, but urbane and kindly disposed and chivalrous toward those engaged against him. He never descended to personalities, never took unfair advantage of an adversary, and never resorted to any tricks of sophistry to confuse an opponent. In one of his letters from England, speaking of his visit to the British Parliament, he said: "I have liked some of the speeches very well; they generally show excellent temper, po

liteness, and mutual respect among the speak

ers.

When, shortly after his famous 7th of March speech, 1850, he returned to Massachusetts, his friends went through the form of asking the Board of Aldermen for the use of Faneuil Hall. To their infinite consternation and wrath that favor was denied. The persons composing a majority of the Board of Aldermen belonged to a peculiar political combination known as the Coalitionists. Webster's 7th of March speech was by them believed to be a bid for Southern support in his coming campaign for the Presidential nomination. It is true that for the first time in his life he appeared to have forsaken his principles and was now disposed to temporize with the slave power. He had lost favor in New England, and throughout the North his speech on the compromise measures of that year had been received with mingled incredulity and scorn. But no words can express the indignation of the stanch Whigs of Boston, who worshipped Webster as an idol, when it was suddenly made known that the doors of Faneuil Hall were closed against this demi-god. He spoke, however, to a great throng that gathered about the hotel where he was stopping, and unconsciously added fuel to the flames by making use of one or two unfortunate phrases, which were picked up and commented upon by a hostile press. One of these was that Massachusetts men must "conquer their preju dices" and support the Fugitive Slave law, a