In estimating Henry Clay, we are always to remember that he was an orator.  He had a genius for oratory.  There is, we believe, no example of a man endowed with a genius for oratory who also possessed an understanding of the first order.  Mr. Clay’s oratory was vivified by a good heart and a genuine love of country; and on occasions which required only a good heart, patriotic feeling, and an eloquent tongue, he served his country well.  But as a party leader he had sometimes to deal with matters which demanded a radical and far-seeing intellect; and then, perhaps, he failed to guide his followers aright.  At Washington, during the thirteen years of his Speakership, he led the gay life of a popular hero and drawing-room favorite; and his position was supposed to compel him to entertain much company.  As a young lawyer in Kentucky, he was addicted to playing those games of mere chance which alone at that day were styled gambling.  He played high and often, as was the custom then all over the world.  It was his boast, even in those wild days, that he never played at home, and never had a pack of cards in his house; but when the lawyers and judges were assembled during court sessions, there was much high play among them at the tavern after the day’s work was done.  In 1806, when Mr. Clay was elected to the Senate, he resolved to gamble no more,—­that is, to play at hazard and “brag” no more,—­and he kept his resolution.  Whist, being a game depending partly on skill, was not included in this resolution; and whist was thenceforth a very favorite game with him, and he greatly excelled in it.  It was said of him, as it was of Charles James Fox, that, at any moment of a hand, he could name all the cards that remained to be played.  He discountenanced high stakes; and we believe he never, after 1806, played for more than five dollars “a corner.”  These, we know, were the stakes at Ghent, where he played whist for many months with the British Commissioners during the negotiations for peace in 1815.  We mention his whist-playing only as part of the evidence that he was a gay, pleasant, easy man of the world,—­not a student, not a thinker, not a philosopher.  Often, in reading over his speeches of this period, we are ready to exclaim, “Ah!  Mr. Clay, if you had played whist a little less, and studied history and statesmanship a great deal more, you would have avoided some errors!” A trifling anecdote related by Mr. Colton lets us into the Speaker’s way of life.  “How can you preside over that House to-day?” asked a friend, as he set Mr. Clay down at his own door, after sunrise, from a party.  “Come up, and you shall see how I will throw the reins over their necks,” replied the Speaker, as he stepped from the carriage.[2]