Of what was the result of finally owning the Ninth Ward and the district I have only to say that it, of course, added to the reputation of one man—­and of one woman as well, it may be added, for Jean in her necessary social functions grew in her way with Grant; but otherwise it made little difference.  There was the family hegira to the capital, and much enjoyment of the limited attractions of the semi-Ethiopian and shabby but semi-magnificent city in a miasmatic valley, and it was, no doubt, some education for the children.  To Grant it was a fray, of course, and to Jean it was enjoyment of his successes, and probably more sorrow than he felt at his failures.  The successes were the more numerous.  Jean herself never failed.  She was an envied woman in the social world.  She was a strong man’s wife, and possessed of all tact and gentle wisdom in aiding him, but she was not a rival of the mere self-advertisers among the queens of a shifting society.  She could not afford it, even had her inclination bent that way.  She had absorbing riches.  They were a man and her children.

When I brightened up, because my friends were coming back to me, was the great season of the year to me, as to them.  When the family returned from the capital and reoccupied the home there was rejoicing.  And what rioters we were!  But once more, each time, it was said by Grant, and by me as well, the battle must be fought, and so came re-elections and the flittings.  And, after all, it was good.  It was not the rusting in the sheath.

And it came that there was another gallant fight on.  The city Congressional district is not like the country one, where a man once firmly in the saddle may stay there for a quarter of a century.  The city constituencies have the fault in make-up that their Congressmen are not selected as those who will do best for the districts, but because they have hands on the lever of some machine.  Of course, there are always exceptions, as in Grant’s case, but the rule prevails.  And now there had been flung down the gauntlet of a clever adversary, and the battle was a warm one.

We both enjoyed this contest, for, though the struggle was likely to be sharp, we knew the issue was ours, from the beginning, and the whole thing, as Grant said, was like a hunting trip.  But how it ended!

He had been out much at night, for it was a large district and there were many meetings, and had been as tireless as was usual with him.  His thought was never given much to the care of himself, and in this campaign he appeared more than ordinarily reckless.  Jean, watchful ever, reproached him and made him change his ways a little.  Perhaps it was not all his fault that one day he felt ill.  It was on the eve of the election.

We carried the day as we had hoped, and easily, and there was a demand for Harlson that night which could not be refused with grace.  He was compelled to speak, and in the open air of a chill November evening.  He told me he felt ill.  When, late at night, we reached his home and he found Jean awaiting him, he turned to me and said: