238 AT THE SIGN OF THE STOCK YARD INN 



visited the national capital in my behalf merely 

 because he thought it would be worth something 

 to me to receive this recognition. 



Meantime, he was stricken, and the announce- 

 ment of my appointment, which followed some little 

 time after his death, had not yet been made. 

 It was of this, not of his own fast-ebbing life, he 

 persisted in talking, even as he was descending into 

 the darkness. Presently he ceased speaking, and 

 held out his hands for me to grasp. And then, after 

 a little interval, he said, "I am not afraid to go." 

 Our last interview had ended. He died next day, 

 this man with the courage of a lion and the heart 

 of a little child. 



Your cigars, I see, have long since turned to 

 ashes, and thus also now dissolves our fleeting vision 

 of a great career back into the elusive element from 

 whence it sprang. The portrait, however, hangs 

 there, just as when we saw it first. Possibly if you 

 scan it closely now you may detect a glow that was 

 not there before. 



