favorite Clay seemed half forgotten by the people, and there was every probability that he would be cast down like a worshiped idol, when its votary has found that the tale of its divinity is but a fable.”* This was further illustrated during the heated congressional race that ensued between Clay and Pope ("one-armed" John Pope), by the remark of an Irish voter: "For whom, Jerry, do you mean to vote," he was asked. With a shrewd look, he replied: "Faix an' sure, docthur, I mane to vote for the man who can't put more nor one hand into the threasury." What seems to modern observation "much ado about nothing" presented a different aspect in 1816.

The purchasing power of money was far greater than now. The popular estimate of the value of official services was extremely low. There was an idea afloat that patriotism ought to actuate those charged with legislation rather than motives of gain. The members of the Kentucky Legislature then received but $1 per day besides mileage. The judges of the Court of Appeals had received an annual salary not greater than $1,000 prior to 1815. It was easy for selfish aspirants to make a strong point against the compensation bill from such premises. Mr. Hardin had not only voted for the obnoxious bill, but approved it in face of all opposition. In his judgment it was both a just and wise law. But to stem the tide against it and the unpopularity of having voted for it was difficult, and the result uncer

tain. So he discreetly declined standing for re-election. Only two of those who had voted for it were returned-Henry Clay (after a hard contest) and Colonel R. M. Johnson. Mr. Desha, who had voted against it, was again elected. The remaining seven of the delegation, including Mr. Hardin, succumbed to the inevitable. "Colonel Johnson took the stump and made a resolute effort to justify the measure, but he soon found it was all in vain. It was amusing to hear the colonel, who was not an eloquent man, make a passionate speech in favor of the measure, and conclude by promising to vote for its repeal, because such was the will of the people." So wrote Amos Kendall, who erroneously stated that every Kentucky member who had voted for the law was defeated except Clay and Johnson. Hardin was not a candidate-neither was his colleague, Alney McLean.†

But for his unlucky support of this law Mr. Hardin would doubtless have been re-elected, and thus have enjoyed the advantage of continuous service, which frequency of terms, with intervals, can never bestow. What with these advantages he might have accomplished for himself and his country it is needless to conjecture. It was unfort

✡ Henry Clay, by George D. Prentice, page 124.

† Autobiography, page 178.

unate for his career that it was thus interrupted so soon after it had auspiciously begun.

The vacation passed and Mr. Hardin again set out for Washington to attend the second session of the Fourteenth Congress. He had concluded to visit his birthplace in Pennsylvania, which did not require much diversion from his direct route. Before starting from home he had equipped himself with a good horse and saddle-bags, carrying in the latter such wardrobe as the exigencies of society demanded of oldtime Congressmen. The journey was a long one, and, as it proved in this instance, a lonesome one. Much of his road was rough and through a wilderness where he esteemed himself fortunate in finding lodging places at nightfall. As he passed the Virginia line the country was better populated, and occasionally the tedium of his journey was interrupted by the company of a traveler going his way. One even

ing, as his road was passing the eastern declivities of the Blue Ridge, he approached a town where he proposed to rest for the night. Behind him he heard the sound of horses' hoofs. In a few minutes three dapper-looking young gentlemen mounted on spirited horses overtook him. From their dress, outfit, and manner he readily recognized them as belonging to the Virginia gentry. They exchanged the salutations of the road, and Mr. Hardin discovered that they as was characteristic of this class-were sprightly, good humored, and satisfied

with themselves on all points. On the other hand the young men, from a certain air of careless awkwardness and the unpretentious character of his trappings, set Mr. Hardin down as a country bumpkin. But few words passed before he discovered how he was esteemed by his young companions, and he thereupon resolved to act the part attributed to him. He soon learned from them that they were on their way to the town near by; that a debating society would meet there that evening, and that they were to participate, and, in fact, were leaders in the debate. He inquired the question to be debated. It proved to be one with which he was entirely familiar, having had occasion frequently to debate it in his congressional canvass. He was asked if he ever made speeches. He replied that he had spoken in debating societies, but that they never debated questions like that in Kentucky where he lived "Which produced the most happiness, pursuit or possession," and the like, he said, were the kind of questions debated in the West. From his artless questions and answers. the young gentlemen concluded that they had found a character who would afford some amusement if he could be induced to speak at the debating society. After having made several awkward excuses, he yielded to solicitation and agreed to speak if allowed to come last. He said he could "pick up some points from other speakers and be sort o' prepared."

He asked how many taverns there were in the town, and which was the cheapest. His new friends told him there were two, but that they would stop at the better one, and he must go with them-which under hospitable compulsion he did. The young men were convinced they had encountered an innocent abroad, and privately gave out in town on their arrival that there was fun in prospect. A larger crowd than usual gathered that evening at the debating hall. Expectation was on tip-toe. The young gentlemen escorted their guest (for such they now esteemed him) to the hall, and ostentatiously seated him where the audience could have a fair view of him. Mr. Hardin was more artless than ever. The audience made no attempt to conceal its amusement. The debate in due time began. Mr. Hardin's young friends of the road made speeches, and as they had carefully prepared for the occasion, they acquitted themselves with credit. Finally it came to his time.

He had managed to tell his name in such way that it had not been understood. In fact, his name had been a matter of indifference to his new friends. "At that moment," said Hardin long afterward,

'I never felt in more elegant trim for speaking in all my life." He arose with an assumed awkwardness that caused a titter to go around. He slowly straightened his stalwart form—assumed an air of dignity that completely changed his appearance-his eye lightened with the fires of intelligence, and in the modulated voice of a trained orator he began his speech. He illustrated all the art and power of oratory. Argument, pathetic eloquence, wit, invective, and ridicule came in full and overwhelming tide. He metaphorically tore his roadside. acquaintances limb from limb. He ridiculed them; he dissected them. The audience was at first astounded. They questioned the sense of sight and hearing. But as the situation dawned upon them they were carried away by enthusiasm. They laughed and wept and stamped and shouted. He at last concluded by informing the audience that he had truly said he was from Kentucky; that his home was at Bardstown, which, on account of its refinement and learning, was sometimes called the Athens of the West-and that he was a member of Congress and then on his journey to Washington City. The young gentlemen who had originated the jest meantime had slipped out and made good their retreat. Next morning a large and admiring crowd gathered at the tavern to speak to him and bid him good-bye.

Although negligent as to dress, he was not so as to his lodgings, notwithstanding his pretense to the Virginians of seeking a cheap hotel. He was always the patron of the best hotels, and did not lack appreciation of tasteful and comfortable surroundings. While reputed economical of expenditure, he had a contempt for niggardliness arising from such a sentiment. His stopping places in Washington were selected with an eye to what propriety required of the representative of an intelligent and respectable constituency, no less than for that consideration a gentleman owes to himself. Thus he had better opportunities for social contact with the more intelligent of his colleagues-with many whose names have adorned the history of the country, and they in turn came to appreciate him.

Mr. Clay, recov

He was present at the opening of the session. ered from his summer's canvass, was at his post. The Kentucky delegation of the first session was in attendance, save James Clark. He had resigned his seat for a circuit judgeship. Thomas Fletcher had been chosen to fill the vacancy. General Fletcher had been a member of the Kentucky House of Representatives for Montgomery county, in 1803, 1805, and 1806, respectively. Residing in that ter

ritory out of which Bath was subsequently carved, he represented it in 1817, 1820, 1821, and 1825.

It was during his last term in the State Legislature that Simon Kenton visited Frankfort. Seventy years old, poor, in tattered garments, mounted on a poor horse, the old pioneer entered the State capital a stranger. He came seeking from the State, that he had assisted so largely in reclaiming from the Indians, a release of some of his mountain lands from taxes. While wandering about the streets, a desolate, lonely old man, General Fletcher met and knew him. He lost no time in having him decently clothed and kindly entertained. Kenton quickly became the object of great and hearty attention. He was taken to the capitol, while the Legislature was in session, and placed in the speaker's chair, and introduced as the second great adventurer of the West to a crowded assembly of legislators, judges, officers of government, and citizens. The simplehearted old man called it the "proudest day of his life." His lands, it is needless to observe, were released.

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General Fletcher's congressional career ended with the Fourteenth Congress. Mr. Hardin, at this session, was appointed a member of the standing committee on claims, and of the select committee on a uniform national currency. In the course of the session, he took part in debates concerning a resolution to repeal the duties on licenses to distillers, on the motion to suspend the act concerning property lost in the late war, on the bill to amend that act, on the report concerning military bounty lands, and on the contested elections of the Missouri delegates. But the most prominent subject of the session was the repeal of the Compensation law. Scarcely," said Mr. Hulbert, "had the doors of Congress been thrown open, at the commencement of the session, when motions were made in both Houses for the repeal of the Compensation act. Why," said he, "this extraordinary haste?" He thought the clamor against the law was made by newspapers, and that it was but the voice of party spirit, faction, and misrepresentation. A majority of Congress expressly or impliedly dissented from this view, conceding, in effect, that the popular voice was against the law. The chief matter of debate concerned the question as to the right of the constituent to instruct his representative, and the duty of the latter to obey.

Nine days were consumed in this discussion. Of the Kentucky delegation, Messrs. Desha, Clay, Fletcher, McLean, Hardin, and Taul made lengthy speeches. Mr. Ormsby was absent during the session,