A few days later, however, Randolph, while discussing a bill of local importance, casually remarked: "This bill, Mr. Speaker, lost its ablest advocate in the death of my lamented colleague, _whose seat is still vacant!"_ HORACE GREELEY It will be remembered that the will of Stephen Girard of Philadelphia, after a splendid bequest for the establishment of the great University which bears his name, provided that no minister of the Gospel should ever be permitted to enter the grounds of the institution. It so happened upon a time, that Horace Greeley, wearing white hat and cravat, and with his ministerial cast of countenance well in evidence, sauntered up to the gate of the Girard institution and was about to enter. He was instantly stopped by the keeper, who bluntly told him that he could not enter. "What the hell is the reason I can't?" demanded Greeley. "Oh! I beg your pardon," apologized the astonished gate-keeper, _"walk right in, sir; you can."_ PATRIOTIC TO THE CORE Judge Allen of southern Illinois, a leading member of Congress a half-century ago, during a recent address to the old settlers of McLean County related an incident of early days on the Wabash. Population was sparse, and the common school was yet far in the future. The teacher who could read, write, and "cipher" to the "single rule of three" was well equipped for his noble calling. Lamentable failures upon the part of aspirants to attain even the modest standard indicated, were by no means of rare occurrence. Back in the thirties, an individual of by no means prepossessing appearance presented himself to Judge Allen's father, the Magistrate, Ruling Elder, and _ex-officio_ school director for his precinct, and asked permission "to keep school." Being interrogated as to what branches he could teach, the three R's--readin', 'ritin', and 'rithmetic--were, with apparent confidence, at once put in nomination. "Have you ever taught geography and English grammar?" was the next inquiry. With a much less confident tone, as he had probably never heard of either, he replied: "I have teached geography some, but as for English grammar, I wouldn't 'low one of 'em to come into my school-house. _'Merican grammar is good enough for me!"_ "SWEET ALICE, BEN BOLT" A touching scene occurred in the House of Representatives a number of years ago, when an aged member from New Jersey arose, and for the first time addressed the Speaker. All eyes were turned in his direction as he stood calmly awaiting recognition. He was tall, spare, and erect. His venerable appearance and kindly expression, coupled with most courteous manners, at once commanded attention. As in husky tones he again said, "Mr. Speaker!" there came from the farthest end of the Great Hall in a whisper but distinctly heard by all, the word, "Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt." A moment later, and from the floor and gallery many voices blended in the familiar refrain, "Don't you remember sweet Alice Ben Bolt?"