originally of a gentle and magnanimous type. The broken fragments of
mind, like those of a statue, reveal the quality of the original
creation. It may be that he was happier than many who have worn real
crowns. Napoleon at Chiselhurst, or his greater uncle at St. Helena,
might have been gainer by exchanging lots with this man, who had the
inward joy of conscious greatness without its burden and its perils. To
all public places he had free access, and no pageant was complete
without his presence. From time to time he issued proclamations, signed
"Norton I.," which the lively San Francisco dailies were always ready to
print conspicuously in their columns. The style of these proclamations
was stately, the royal first person plural being used by him with all
gravity and dignity. Ever and anon, as his uniform became dilapidated or
ragged, a reminder of the condition of the imperial wardrobe would be
given in one or more of the newspapers, and then in a few days he would
appear in a new suit. He had the entree of all the restaurants, and he
lodged--nobody knew where. It was said that he was cared for by members
of the Freemason Society to which he belonged at the time of his fall. I
saw him often in my congregation in the Pine-street church, along in
1858, and into the sixties. He was a respectful and attentive listener
to preaching. On the occasion of one of his first visits he spoke to me
after the service, saying, in a kind and patronizing tone:

"I think it my duty to encourage religion and morality by showing myself
at church, and to avoid jealousy I attend them all in turn."

He loved children, and would come into the Sunday-school, and sit
delighted with their singing. When, in distributing the presents on a
Christmas-tree, a necktie was handed him as the gift of the young
ladies, he received it with much satisfaction, making a kingly bow of
gracious acknowledgment. Meeting him one day, in the springtime, holding