We lost Senator Burnside of Rhode Island, at one time commander of the Army of the Potomac, and three times Governor of his State.  I met him at a reception given in the home of my friend Judge Hilton, in Woodlawn, at Saratoga Springs.  He had an imperial presence, coupled with the utterance of a child.  The Senator stood for purity in politics.  No one ever bought him, or tried to buy him.  He held no stock in the Credit Mobilier.  He shook hands with none of the schemes that appealed to Congress to fleece the people.  He died towards the close of 1881.

A man of greater celebrity, of an entirely different quality, who had passed on, was about this time to be honoured with an effigy in Westminster Abbey—­Dean Stanley.  I still remember keenly the afternoon I met him in the Deanery adjoining the abbey.  There was not much of the physical in his appearance.  His mind and soul seemed to have more than a fair share of his physical territory.  He had only just enough body to detain the soul awhile on earth.

And then we lost Samuel B. Stewart.  The most of Brooklyn knew him—­the best part of Brooklyn knew him.  I knew him long before I ever came to Brooklyn.  He taught me to read in the village school.  His parents and mine were buried in the same place.  A few weeks later, the Rev. Dr. Bellows of New York went.  I do not believe that the great work done by this good man was ever written.  It was during that long agony when the war hospitals were crowded with the sick, the wounded, and the dying.  He enlisted his voice and his pen and his fortune to alleviate their suffering.  I was on the field as a chaplain for a very little while, and a little while looking after the sick in Philadelphia, and I noticed that the Sanitary Commission, of which Dr. Bellows was the presiding spirit, was constantly busy with ambulances, cordials, nurses, necessaries and supplies.  Many a dying soldier was helped by the mercy of this good man’s energies, and many a farewell message was forwarded home.  The civilians who served the humanitarian causes of the war, like Dr. Bellows, have not received the recognition they should.  Only the military men have been honoured with public office.

The chief menace of the first year of President Arthur’s administration was the danger of a policy to interfere in foreign affairs, and the danger of extravagance in Washington, due to innumerable appropriation bills.  There was a war between Chili and Peru, and the United States Government offered to mediate for Chili.  It was a pitiable interference with private rights, and I regretted this indication of an unnecessary foreign policy in this country.  In addition to this, there were enough appropriation bills in Washington to swamp the nation financially.  I had stood for so many years in places where I could see clearly the ungodly affairs of political life in my own country, that the progress of politics became to me a hopeless thing.