and yet it was sufficiently evident that he did not intend to claim more
than his rightful share. He walked the ground with a tenacious step, but
with no unseemly haste. There was a keen, frosty sparkle in his eye, and
a certain severity of manner which, however, covered a great deal of
kindness. He liked successful men such as were his own equal in ability,
but he was quite as likely to take an interest in those who were
unfortunate. A brother of Dr. Holmes, a constant invalid and great
sufferer, who required much consideration, was a more frequent visitor
at his house than Lowell or Agassiz. His face bore a striking
resemblance to Raphael's portrait of the war-like Pope Julius Second,
the last of the great popes. He admired Emerson, and was frequently seen
in his company; but Alcott and Thoreau he seemed to have little respect
for. Mr. Alcott once said, "I suppose Judge Hoar looks on me as the most
useless person on the continent; but I can at least appreciate
_him_."

He was the youngest judge that had ever been appointed to the supreme
bench of Massachusetts, member of Congress, president of the Harvard
Alumni, etc.; but his real distinction now is that as a member of
General Grant's cabinet he was the first American in public life to take
a determined stand in regard to civil-service reform.

For thirty years he had seen the government patronage turned into an
enormous engine of political corruption, and endure it longer he could
not. He went to Washington, much to his own inconvenience, mainly to
strike a blow at this monster. Did he realize the magnitude of the work
before him--one which thousands of patriotic men have since attempted
and signally failed to accomplish? It was like taking the meat away from
a tiger, or trying to lift the Mitgard serpent. Judge Hoar found himself
quite alone in the president's cabinet, and with the exception of