Only a few days before, I had paid him a visit. He was a bitter
antagonist of Mormonism, and I was in deep sympathy with his Christian
endeavours in this respect. I never saw a more anxious or perturbed
countenance than James A. Garfield's, the last time I met him. It seemed
a great relief to him to turn to talk to my child, who was with me. He
had suffered enough abuse in his political campaign to suffice for one
lifetime. He was then facing three or four years of insult and contumely
greater than any that had been heaped upon his predecessors. He had
proposed greater reforms, and by so much he was threatened to endure
worse outrages. His term of office was just six months, but he
accomplished what forty years of his predecessors had failed to do--the
complete and eternal pacification of the North and the South. There were
more public meetings of sympathy for him, at this time, in the South
than there were in the North. His death-bed in eight weeks did more for
the sisterhood of States than if he had lived eight years--two terms of
the Presidency. His cabinet followed the reform spirit of his
leadership. Postmaster General James made his department illustrious by
spreading consternation among the scoundrels of the Star Route, saving
the country millions of dollars. Secretary Windom wrought what the
bankers and merchants called a financial miracle. Robert Lincoln, the
son of another martyred President, was Secretary of War.

Guiteau was no more crazy than thousands of other place-hunters. He had
been refused an office, and he was full of unmingled and burning
revenge. There was nothing else the matter with him. It was just this:
"You haven't given me what I want; now I'll kill you." For months after
each presidential inauguration the hotels of Washington are roosts for
these buzzards. They are the crawling vermin of this nation. Guiteau
was no rarity. There were hundreds of Guiteaus in Washington after the