its goal."

I saw that Mr. Evarts was embarrassed at the anecdote and discovered
afterwards that the distinguished guest had recently had a similar
stroke on his left side and could propel his left arm and hand
only with the assistance of his right.

My old bogie of being put into office arose again in the senatorial
election of 1882. The legislature, for the first time in a
generation, was entirely leaderless. The old organization had
disappeared and a new one had not yet crystallized.

Mr. Evarts was anxious to be senator, and I pledged him my
support. Evarts was totally devoid of the arts of popular appeal.
He was the greatest of lawyers and the most delightful of men, but
he could not canvass for votes. Besides, he was entirely independent
in his ideas of any organization dictation or control, and resented
both. He did not believe that a public man should go into public
office under any obligations, and resented such suggestions.

A large body of representative men thought it would be a good
thing for the country if New York could have this most accomplished,
capable, and brilliant man in the United States Senate. They
urged him strongly upon the legislature, none of whose members
knew him personally, and Mr. Evarts would not go to Albany.

The members selected a committee to come down to New York and
see Mr. Evarts. They went with the idea of ascertaining how far
he would remember with gratitude those who elected him. Their
visit was a miserable failure. They came in hot indignation to my