speeches put him in a class by himself.

The Republicans of the village were highly elated when they had
secured the promise of Mr. Curtis to speak at their most important
mass meeting. The occasion drew together the largest audience
the village had known, composed not only of residents but many from
a distance. The committee of arrangements finally reported to
the waiting audience that the last train had arrived, but
Mr. Curtis had not come.

It suddenly occurred to the committee that it would be a good
thing to call a young recruit from a well-known Democratic family
and publicly commit him. First came the invitation, then the
shouting, and when I arose they cried "platform," and I was
escorted to the platform, but had no idea of making a speech.
My experience for years at college and at home had saturated me
with the questions at issue in all their aspects. From a full
heart, and a sore one, I poured out a confession of faith.
I thought I had spoken only a few minutes, but found afterwards
that it was over an hour. The local committee wrote to the State
committee about the meeting, and in a few days I received a letter
from the chairman of the State committee inviting me to fill
a series of engagements covering the whole State of New York.

The campaign of 1856 differed from all others in memory of men
then living. The issues between the parties appealed on the
Republican side to the young. There had grown up among the young
voters an intense hostility to slavery. The moral force of the
arguments against the institution captured them. They had no
hostility to the South, nor to the Southern sIaveholders; they