fight he had waged at such bitter cost to himself. My words created some
impression, and Mayor Chapin at once said that he would take care of
Kelly and see that justice was done him. I went home that evening much
pleased. In the morning, at breakfast, I received a brief note from
Chapin in these words: "It was nine last evening when you finished
speaking of what Kelly had done, and when I said that I would take care
of him. At ten last night Kelly died." He had been dying while I was
making my speech, and he never knew that at last there was to be a
tardy recognition of what he had done, a tardy justification for the
sacrifices he had made. The man had fought, at heavy cost to himself and
with entire disinterestedness, for popular rights; but no recognition
for what he had done had come to him from the people, whose interest he
had so manfully upheld.

Where there is no chance of statistical or mathematical measurement, it
is very hard to tell just the degree to which conditions change from one
period to another. This is peculiarly hard to do when we deal with such
a matter as corruption. Personally I am inclined to think that in public
life we are on the whole a little better and not a little worse than we
were thirty years ago, when I was serving in the New York Legislature.
I think the conditions are a little better in National, in State, and in
municipal politics. Doubtless there are points in which they are worse,
and there is an enormous amount that needs reformation. But it does seem
to me as if, on the whole, things had slightly improved.

When I went into politics, New York City was under the control of
Tammany, which was from time to time opposed by some other--and
evanescent--city Democratic organization. The up-country Democrats had
not yet fallen under Tammany sway, and were on the point of developing a
big country political boss in the shape of David B. Hill. The Republican