Gen. Harrison, the nominee of the Whig Party, was then sixty-seven years of age by the record, but the public opinion credited him with several more years. His mental powers were not of superior quality, and his life had not been of a sort to develop his faculties. He had done good service in the Indian wars of the frontier and as commander in the battle of Tippecanoe he had won a reputation as a soldier. During the war of 1812, he commanded the army of the Northwest, and with honor. He had had a seat in each House of Congress, he had represented the government at the capital of a South American Republic, and all with credit, and all without distinction. His career had been sufficiently conspicuous to justify his friends in eulogies in the party papers and speeches; and neither as good policy nor just treatment should his opponents have been betrayed into criticisms of his military and civil life. The Democrats were unwise enough to raise an issue upon his military career, and the result was greatly to their loss. His frontier life in a log cabin was also the subject of ridicule at the opening of the campaign. The Whigs accepted the issue, built log cabins on wheels and drew them over the country from one mass meeting to another. The unfortunate remark was made by a writer or speaker that if Harrison had a log cabin and plenty of hard cider he would be content. A barrel became the emblem of the Whig Party. The log cabin was furnished with a cider barrel at the door, and the emblematic barrel was seen on cane heads and breast pins. Mr. Webster struck a fatal blow at the error of the Democratic Party: --"Let him be the log cabin candidate. What you say in scorn we will shout with all our lungs. * * * It did not happen to me to be born in a log cabin; but my elder brother and sisters were born in a log cabin raised amid the snow drifts of New Hampshire, at a period so early that when the smoke first rose from its rude chimney and curled over the frozen hills there was no similar evidence of a white man's habitation between it and the settlements on the rivers of Canada. * * * If ever I am ashamed of it, or if I ever fail in affectionate remembrance of him who reared it, and defended it against savage violence and destruction, cherished all the domestic virtues beneath its roof, and through the fire and blood of a seven years' Revolutionary war, shrunk from no danger, no toil, no sacrifice to save his country and to raise his children to a condition better than his own, may my name and the name of my posterity be blotted forever from the memory of mankind."