It was a blind kind of search.  He was the worst scattered of men.  But I will throw the weight of this introduction upon one very peculiar feature of Mr. Stanley’s character, and that is his indestructible Americanism —­an Americanism which he is proud of.  And in this day and time, when it is the custom to ape and imitate English methods and fashion, it is like a breath of fresh air to stand in the presence of this untainted American citizen who has been caressed and complimented by half of the crowned heads of Europe who could clothe his body from his head to his heels with the orders and decorations lavished upon him.  And yet, when the untitled myriads of his own country put out their hands in welcome to him and greet him, “Well done,” through the Congress of the United States, that is the crown that is worth all the rest to him.  He is a product of institutions which exist in no other country on earth-institutions that bring out all that is best and most heroic in a man.  I introduce Henry M. Stanley.

DINNER TO MR. JEROME

A dinner to express their confidence in the integrity and good judgment of District-Attorney Jerome was given at Delmonico’s by over three hundred of his admirers on the evening of May 7, 1909.

Indeed, that is very sudden.  I was not informed that the verdict was going to depend upon my judgment, but that makes not the least difference in the world when you already know all about it.  It is not any matter when you are called upon to express it; you can get up and do it, and my verdict has already been recorded in my heart and in my head as regards Mr. Jerome and his administration of the criminal affairs of this county.

I agree with everything Mr. Choate has said in his letter regarding Mr. Jerome; I agree with everything Mr. Shepard has said; and I agree with everything Mr. Jerome has said in his own commendation.  And I thought Mr. Jerome was modest in that.  If he had been talking about another officer of this county, he could have painted the joys and sorrows of office and his victories in even stronger language than he did.

I voted for Mr. Jerome in those old days, and I should like to vote for him again if he runs for any office.  I moved out of New York, and that is the reason, I suppose, I cannot vote for him again.  There may be some way, but I have not found it out.  But now I am a farmer—­a farmer up in Connecticut, and winning laurels.  Those people already speak with such high favor, admiration, of my farming, and they say that I am the only man that has ever come to that region who could make two blades of grass grow where only three grew before.

Well, I cannot vote for him.  You see that.  As it stands now, I cannot.  I am crippled in that way and to that extent, for I would ever so much like to do it.  I am not a Congress, and I cannot distribute pensions, and I don’t know any other legitimate way to buy a vote.  But if I should think of any legitimate way, I shall make use of it, and then I shall vote for Mr. Jerome.