those to whom he might naturally have looked for friendship and support.
It sets his abilities and force of character in the strongest light, to
view him, at the very outset of public life, without the aid of powerful
connections, an isolated young man, forced into a position of hostility,
not merely with the enemies of his party, but likewise with a large body
of its adherents, even accused of treachery to its principles, yet
gaining triumph after triumph, and making his way steadily onward.
Surely his was a mental and moral energy which death alone could have
laid prostrate.

We have the testimony of those who knew Mr. Cilley well, that his own
feelings were never so embittered by those conflicts as to prevent him
from interchanging the courtesies of society with his most violent
opponents. While their resentments rendered his very presence
intolerable to them, he could address them with as much ease and
composure as if their mutual relations had been those of perfect
harmony. There was no affectation in this: it was the good-natured
consciousness of his own strength that enabled him to keep his temper:
it was the same chivalrous sentiment which impels hostile warriors to
shake hands in the intervals of battle. Mr. Cilley was slow to withdraw
his confidence from any man whom he deemed a friend; and it has been
mentioned as almost his only weak point, that he was too apt to suffer
himself to be betrayed before he would condescend to suspect. His
prejudices, however, when once adopted, partook of the depth and
strength of his character, and could not be readily overcome. He loved
to subdue his foes; but no man could use a triumph more generously than
he.

Let us resume our narrative. In spite of the opposition of Judge
Ruggles and his friends, combined with that of the Whigs, Mr. Cilley was