I never saw a happier face than that of Greeley when I met him, as he was then entirely confident of success, and in a very kind and facetious way he reminded me that I had underestimated his strength with the people. When opportunity came in the conversation I suggested to him that a man who was elected President by a combination of opposing political interests would have very grave and complicated duties to perform, and that he should especially avoid any Cabinet complications. With the simplicity and confidence of a child his answer was: “Don’t misunderstand me; you ought to know that I would appoint no Cabinet officer from your section without your approval.” He was surprised to find that I was not there to obtain promises, but to warn him against the peril of saying to others just what he had said to me, and after reviewing the conditions he agreed that his only safety was in avoiding all obligations relating to appointments until the duty confronted him. He asked me to go to North Carolina and give a week to the campaign in that State, and to that I agreed, although I was in charge of the Pennsylvania battle. That was the last time that I saw Horace Greeley. After the disastrous elections of October, which clearly foreshadowed his defeat, he made New England and Western tours, and delivered speeches which well compare with the grandest utterances of our best statesmanship. But the tide against him was resistless, and while nursing a dying wife and worn out by his ceaseless offices of affection, the blow came that clouded one of the noblest, purest, and ablest of the great men of the land. On the last day that he put pen to paper he wrote me a brief letter saying that he was “a man of many sorrows,” but that he “could not forget the gallant though luckless struggle” I had made in his behalf. Broken in health, bereaved in his affections, and disappointed in his greatest ambition, his reason toppled from its throne and he died an inmate of an asylum. The two chieftains of the political contest of 1872 were brought together soon after the victor and vanquished were declared, as President Grant stood at the tomb of Horace Greeley to pay the last tribute of himself and the nation to the fallen philanthropist. THE HAYES-TILDEN CONTEST 1876