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the two. I would not have raised my finger to have put Hayes in, if in so doing I did Tilden the slightest injustice. All I wanted was for the legal powers to declare a President, to keep the machine running, to allay the passions of the canvass and allow the country peace. I am profoundly grateful that the thing ended as it did, without devolving upon me new responsibilities. The day that brought about the result and enabled me to leave the White House as I did, I regard as one of the happiest in my life. I felt, personally, that I had been vouchsafed a special deliverance. It was a great blessing to the country-the peaceful solution I mean. I cannot see how any patriotic man can think otherwise. We had peace and order and observance of the law, and the world had a new illustration of the dignity and efficiency of the Republic. This we owe to the wisdom and foresight of the men who formed the Electoral Commission, Democrats as well as Republicans." One more quotation in conclusion of these mental photographs of Grant's inner thought and mind: "I remember my own feelings about the war when it commenced. I could not endure the thought of the Union separating. . . I wanted to leave the country if disunion was accomplished. I could not have lived in the country. It was this feeling that impelled me to volunteer. I only wanted to fight for the Union. That feeling carried me through the war. I never felt any special pleasure in my promotions. I was naturally glad when they came, but I never thought of it. . . My only feeling in the war was a desire to see it over and the rebellion suppressed. I do not remem. ber ever to have considered the possibility of a dissolution. It never entered into my head, for instance, to consider the terms we should take from the south if beaten."

The greeting given by his native land to General Grant was not behind. that tendered by the other peoples of the earth, upon his return from his long wanderings. His fame and the affection in which he was held had grown as the petty annoyances due to political station lost themselves in the distance, and as the Nation began to understand the greatness of his achievements in the suppression of the rebellion. "On Saturday, September 20," writes Mr. Young, "that being the eighteenth day of our homeward journey from Japan, we came to the coast of California. Our first news from home came with the pilot-boat, when we learned from the newspapers which it brought of the reception awaiting the general. The details of this proposed honor were a great surprise to the general, who had no idea of the magnitude and enthusiasm of the compliment in store for him. The sun was setting behind the hills as we steamed into the Golden Gate. But the story of General Grant's reception in California has been told so fully that I despair of being able to add to it. On the whole the scene was wondrously beautiful. The lines of brown hills, the puffs of smoke that told of salutes fired so far off that the sound of the cannon could

scarcely be heard, the welcoming of the fog-horns, the trim and bending yachts bright with flags, the huge steamers covered with people coming out to meet us, and cheering again and again, the deep thunder of the batteries of Angel island, Black Point and Alcatraz, the cheers from the thousands who swarmed on Telegraph hill, as our vessel slowly steamed past, and finally, the brilliant, blazing city, which burst upon us as we turned into anchorage—all of this formed a picture which could not be forgotten, even by those who had seen the pageantry of Europe and the splendor of the east. But it had a quality which neither Europe nor the east could give, for it was a welcome home! Coming from the silent multitudes of Japan and China, it was a thrilling sound to hear once again the AngloSaxon cheer ringing out from thousands of voices."

A short stay in California ensued, during which the general visited various parts of the state and those adjoining, including Oregon. In November he was once more at his old home in Galena, but before the end of the year he paid a visit to the east, where he was received by a series of ovations at the hands of the people, irrespective of party or political belief or feeling. But even yet his wanderings were not ended. Early in January, 1880, he set out for a trip through the south. Passing through Augusta, Georgia, Savannah, Charleston and Jacksonville, he made a visit to Havana, sailed thence to Verà Cruz, and spent some time in Mexico, where the people and authorities treated him with the greatest distinction. He returned by way of Galveston, visiting New Orleans, Mobile and Memphis, reaching his home at Galena in the latter part of April. He visited Iowa and other states west of the Mississippi during the summer, extending his journey to Santa Fe, New Mexico, and returned east in October.

While Grant was far away from the turmoil and excitement of American affairs, his friends in the Republican party-especially those who had become displeased with the southern policy of President Hayes-had again and again turned toward him as the one best fitted by character and popularity to lead the party once more to victory in so close a contest as that of 1880 promised to be. The suggestion finally took form, and after his return to America and the visible proof everywhere given of the admiration and affection in which he was held, an organized movement was finally made, and the question of his nomination for a third term was openly broached and discussed. One of the strongest combinations ever made in American politics was formed when Senator Conkling of New York, Senator Logan of Illinois, and Senator Cameron of Pennsylvania pledged themselves and their immense influence and following to the support of the movement, and resolved to place Grant once more in the White House, if tenacity, courage and work could produce such result. The history of that contest is well known. When the great National Republican convention of 1880 was called to order in Chicago, the supporters of Grant

stood in solid phalanx as vote after vote was given, throughout the whole thirty-six ballotings, with the exception of the one before the last, in which the Garfield movement fairly started-giving Grant each time from three hundred and two to three hundred and twelve votes out of a total of seven hundred and fifty-six. At this time Grant was on his way home from his visit to Mexico, and on hearing of Garfield's election expressed his approval, and gave him earnest and signal support in a speech made upon the Western Reserve of Ohio, in September. In October he accompanied Senator Conkling on a tour of New York state, using all his great influence in the support of the Republican ticket. During the same months he made a short trip through New England, one incident of which was a visit to Plymouth Rock. After the election he visited Washington, where he was received with special honor by congress. He also visited Albany in January, 1881, where a reception was tendered him by the two houses of the legislature.

The interest which Grant took in any and all measures that had for their object the advancement of the material affairs of the Nation, was especially marked in a soldier who had spent the most active portion of his life in the camp and field. He gave them especial attention after his return from his foreign tour, and as he looked about for some occupation with which to fill the remainder of his days. When he decided to make New York city his home, in 1881, he was but fifty-nine years of age, in reasonably good health, and with the expectation of a number of active years yet before him. When a great world's fair was under consideration at about this period, he consented to accept its presidency, but upon discovering that, owing to divisions among the promoters of the undertaking and the difficulty of obtaining a proper site, there was little prospect of its becoming a success, he tendered his resignation. The question of an interoceanic canal, which had claimed his attention so closely when he was President, was still lodged in his mind, and he publicly advocated the Nicaragua project. It was understood at the time that if that plan were carried forward by private capital he would accept the Presidency. He also became interested in the development of the Mexican railway system by American capital, and in 1881 made a second visit to Mexico to obtain a concession for a company, of which he was to have been the head. He also took a deep interest in the establishing of closer commercial relations with the sister republic to the southwest, and was largely instrumental in securing the negotiation of the reciprocity treaty of January 20, 1883. Among the incidents of his later years was a review of the case of General Fitz John Porter, at the request of the friends of the latter, and his frank declaration that he discovered that in his former action upon the case he had made an error of judgment. Subsequently, by correspondence and an article in a prominent review, he did all that lay in his power to promote

the restoration of General Porter to the rank upon the retired list, to which he would have been entitled had the sentence of court-martial not been pronounced.

The darkest cloud upon the life of General Grant, and one that for a time partially obscured his fame and caused deep distress to the people, fell because of no overt act of his, and was the result of that frank confidence and trust in others which was so often abused and betrayed during Presidential days. But the darkness was only for a time, although the pain and grief through which he passed had an effect all through his remaining days, and aided in hastening the sad and melancholy end that was already so close at hand. That Grant was innocent of thought or purpose of wrong was established to the satisfaction of the whole world, and his vindication came in time and in such form that the old hero knew the verdict of the world before he closed his eyes on the earth forever. At the time of his entering upon business life he was entirely without training in that direction, and was easily led to give his confidence to any who established a claim thereto. It was thus he was led into a partnership with one Ferdinand Ward, a man of reputed honesty and worth, but, as later events showed, without conscience or character. The firm of Grant & Ward was established in New York city, for the purpose of banking, the general furnishing the name and influence, while Ward took entire charge of the management of affairs. Grant put his entire fortune into the business -small beside those of thousands of men about him, but representing the savings of his entire life. His sons and friends followed his example; and when Ward by criminal folly of the basest sort, betrayed his partners and patrons, and exchanged his high position for a felon's cell, Grant found himself without a dollar in the world, his high fame and great name dragged in the mire, and others ruined because they had trusted in him. It was a mortal blow from which fate might have reserved him, unless it was, indeed, to show the world the metal of which he was possessed. His course was characteristic. He dispossessed himself of every piece of property upon which he had claim, even turning over to his creditors the many magnificent trophies that had been presented to him by admiring friends at various stages of his career and by kings and princes during his long travels in the other world.* The failure took place upon the sixth of May, 1884, and it was not until the facts came out, and undisputed testimony showed that Grant was the chief and innocent sufferer of his partner's baseness, that the hero of the war began to emerge from the cloud which he felt had fallen upon him, and turn his attention to a new commencement of life, at a time when he thought his main work was

* These became the property of Mr. W. H. Vanderbilt, the New York millionaire, who received them under protest for money he had loaned, and then gracefully and generously presented them to the Nation to be preserved in perpetual memory of Grant.

done, and he could enjoy the rest he had so nobly won. But he was by no means forsaken. The men who had known him and loved him, or who had admired him from afar, made their offers of assistance, generously and in abundance.

But the need of help of any sort was not to trouble him long, as the number of his days had been set, and the last of them was not far in the distance. The first evidence of the disease which finally terminated his life, made its appearance during his summer residence at Long Branch in 1884. He had not been well since Christmas eve, 1883, when he slipped and fell upon the ice and received a painful injury in the hip. Pleuropneumonia followed, and it was several weeks before he was able to leave the house and hobble about on crutches. In June, 1884, he experienced trouble from a swelling in the roof of his mouth, and found that swallowing was painful, and the trouble had so increased by October that he placed himself under a physician's care. The disease, cancer of the throat, developed rapidly, with occasional periods of hope and improvement, until February 19, 1885, when a council of eminent physicians decided that his case was beyond help, and that all that lay within their power was to prevent him, so far as possible, from suffering pain, and thus lighten his steady journey to the grave. From the date of that consultation the certainty of death from the cancer was accepted by the doctors and by such of the public as knew of its result. From that time onward his course downward was slow but steady. He was in the greatest pain, but with a dogged determination took occasion, as his weakness and suffering would permit, to work upon his personal memoirs, the publication of which he was assured would place his wife beyond want. The one subject of his waking moments seemed to be this labor of love. The first alarming crisis in his illness which gave rise to fears of his speedy death, occurred in the early hours of Sunday, March 29. He had taken a ride late Saturday afternoon, from which he returned in apparently good spirits, although somewhat fatigued. A sudden attack in the night led to a fear of suffocation, and only the prompt and continued labor of his physicians enabled him to withstand the attack. On April 1 a change for the better occurred, and his family and the people began to hope that he might rally and even recover. The advisability of removing him from New York to some place in the country where he could have better air, had been long discussed, and on June 17 the project was carried into effect. Accompanied by the members of his family and a physician, he was tenderly conveyed to Mount McGregor, where a cottage had been placed at his disposal. He suffered much pain upon the journey, and at its conclusion was greatly exhausted. He confessed that he knew that the end was near and that he was unable to longer keep up the struggle. He rallied for a time, and was enabled to work some upon his memoirs, but the course downward was steady and