be indignant. Let the Eighteenth century come to the help of the Nineteenth. The philosophers, our predecessors, are the apostles of the true; let us invoke those illustrious shades; let them, before monarchies meditating war, proclaim the right of man to life, the right of conscience to liberty, the sovereignty of reason, the holiness of labor, the blessedness of peace; and since night issues from the thrones, let light come from the tombs.

JOHN JAMES INGALLS

EULOGY ON BENJAMIN HILL

Address by John J. Ingalls, lawyer, journalist, United States Senator from Kansas (born in Middleton, Mass., December 29, 1833; died in Las Vegas, N. M., August 16, 1900), delivered in the United States Senate, January 23, 1882.

MR. PRESIDENT:-Ben Hill has gone to the undiscovered country. Whether his journey thither was but one step across an imperceptible frontier, or whether an interminable ocean, black, unfluctuating, and voiceless, stretches between these earthly coasts and those invisible shores-we do not know.

Whether on that August morning after death, he saw a more glorious sun rise with unimaginable splendor above a celestial horizon, or whether his apathetic and unconscious ashes still sleep in cold obstruction and insensible oblivion-we do not know.

Whether his strong and subtle energies found instant exercise in another forum, whether his dextrous and disciplined faculties are now contending in a higher senate than ours for supremacy, or whether his powers were dissipated and dispersed with his parting breath-we do not know.

Whether his passions, ambitions, and affections still sway, attract, and impel, whether he yet remembers us as we remember him-we do not know.

These are the unsolved, the insoluble problems of mortal life and human destiny, which prompted the troubled patriarch to ask that momentous question, for which the centuries have given no answer: "If a man die, shall he live again?" Every man is the center of a circle, whose fatal circumference he cannot pass. Within its narrow confines he is potential, beyond it, he perishes; and if immortality is a splendid but delusive dream, if the incompleteness of every career, even the

longest and most fortunate, be not supplemented and perfected after its termination here, then he who dreads to die should fear to live, for life is a tragedy more desolate and inexplicable than death.

Of all the dead whose obsequies we have paused to solemnize in this chamber, I recall no one whose untimely fate seems so lamentable, and yet so rich in prophecy, as that of Senator Hill. He had reached the meridian of his years. He stood upon the high plateau of middle life, in that serene atmosphere where temptation no longer assails, where the clamorous passions no more distract, and where the conditions are most favorable for noble and enduring achievement. His upward path had been through stormy adversity and contention, such as infrequently fall to the lot of men. Though not without the tendency to meditation, revery, and introspection which accompanies genius, his temperament was palestric. He was competitive and unpeaceful. He was born a polemic and controversialist, intellectually pugnacious and combative, so that he was impelled to defend any position that might be assailed, or to attack any position that might be intrenched, not because the defense or assault was essential, but because the positions were maintained, and those who held them became, by that fact alone, his adversaries.

This tendency of his nature made his orbit erratic. He was meteoric, rather than planetary, and flashed with irregular splendor, rather than shone with steady and penetrating rays. His advocacy of any cause was fearless to the verge of temerity. He appeared to be indifferent to applause or censure, for their own sake. He accepted intrepidly any conclusions that he reached, without inquiring whether they were politic or expedient.

To such a spirit, partisanship was unavoidable, but with Senator Hill, it did not degenerate into bigotry. He was capable of broad generosity, and extended to his opponents the same unreserved candor which he demanded for himself. His oratory was impetuous, and devoid of artifice. He was not a posturer or phrase-monger. He was too intense, too earnest, to employ the cheap and paltry decorations of discourse. He never reconnoitered a hostile position, nor approached it by

stealthy parallels. He could not lay siege to an enemy, nor beleaguer him, nor open trenches, and sap and mine. His method was the charge and the onset. He was the Murat of senatorial debate. Not many men of this generation have been better equipped for parliamentary warfare than he, with his commanding presence, his sinewy diction, his confidence, and imperturbable self-control.

But in the maturity of his powers and his fame, with unmeasured opportunities for achievement apparently before him, with great designs unaccomplished, surrounded by the proud and affectionate solicitude of a great constituency, the pallid messenger with the inverted torch beckoned him to depart. There are few scenes in history more tragic than that protracted combat with death. No man had greater inducements to live. But in the long struggle against the inexorable advances of an insidious and mortal malady, he did not falter nor repine. He retreated with the aspect of a victor, and though he succumbed, he seemed to conquer. His sun went down at noon, but it sank amid the prophetic splendors of an eternal dawn.

With more than a hero's courage, with more than a martyr's fortitude, he waited the approach of the inevitable hour, and went to the undiscovered country.

OTTO HERMANN KAHN

EDWARD HENRY HARRIMAN

Otto Hermann Kahn has been long prominent as a member of the banking firm of Kuhn, Loeb & Co., and also as a writer and speaker on affairs of public import. Other addresses of his are printed in Volume V. The following address, here somewhat abridged, was delivered before the Finance Forum, New York, January 25, 1911. It gives a remarkable analysis of Mr. Harriman's character as well as a tribute to him as "the last figure of an epoch."

I FIRST met Mr. Harriman in the year 1894. At that time what moderate degree of importance attached to his person in the financial community rested mainly upon the fact that he was chairman of the finance committee of the Illinois Central Railroad. It was then a well-known circumstance among bankers that the Illinois Central's finances were managed with remarkable skill and foresight. Somehow or other, it never had bonds for sale except in times when bonds were in great demand; it never borrowed money except when money was cheap and abundant; periods of storm and stress ever found it amply prepared and fortified; its credit was of the highest. The few acquainted with the facts conceded that Mr. Harriman was a shrewd financial manager, but he had reached the age of nearly fifty years without attracting any general attention. In later life, when in reminiscent mood, he used to say that the fact that he had been born and bred in New York, and had done his work right there in the midst of people, many of whom had known him a great number of years, had militated considerably against his recognition. He thought if he had "blown" into New York from the West, his rise would have been a good deal more rapid.

It was the old story of the prophet having little honor in