To overdraw the picture would be a wrong to biog- 

 raphy, a wanton sacrifice of that which constitutes its 

 greatest charm, viz. : stern impartiality. But to con- 

 ceal the really attractive features of the picture for 

 fear of giving edge to criticism, and exposing oneself 

 to the flippant charge of excess of admiration, is a not 

 less grievous wrong to the character we are required 

 to draw, and not less subversive of the great end that 

 biography has to serve, the rescuing from oblivion 

 the past, which illuminates and foreshadows the pres- 

 ent. To attribute qualities to men, which they do not 

 possess, is an insult to the intelligence of the living, 

 and a weakness to the memory of the dead ; while to 

 overlook them, or, for the sake of escaping from the 

 scalpel of a ruthless critic, to permit them to pass 

 unnoticed is to insult the dead, and is by far too 

 costly an offering to be laid on the altar of preju- 

 dice. The Scylla and Charybdis are before us ; and 

 all the skill of the navigator is needed to steer us 

 safely between them. It will be my duty then to see 

 to it, that I give you no occasion to use the scalpel ; 

 and yours, that you do not arraign me for my truth, 

 or censure me for the manly assertion of all that is 

 due to my facts. 



Forty odd years ago, on the banks of the Severn, 

 the waters of which have become well nigh classic to 

 Maryland, where still echo the tones of a lofty elo- 

 quence and unsurpassed legal logic I met, in close 

 companionship, a youth then in the very bud of his 

 being. He was not the child of fortune. The cradle 

 in which he was rocked, was made of sterner stuff ; 

 and the winds that blew over it, were not summer 

 zephyrs. Like most of the great men of the world, 

 his wealth in the start consisted of a brave heart and 

 strong will. At that early age, he was tall and slen- 



