You come to-night from one of our most beautiful Indiana cities. It was built on the Wabash in the expectation that that stream would furnish the channel of its communication with the outside world. But the Wabash is a small tributary to-day to the commerce of Terre Haute. The railroads that span it are the great vehicles of your commerce. They have largely superseded the water communication that was deemed so important in the first settlement, and, perhaps, was so decisive in the location of your city. Terre Haute is conspicuous for its industries. The smoke of your factories goes up night and day. The farms about your city have become gardens, and the cordial and harmonious relations between the railroad shop and the factory and the farms that lie about have a conspicuous illustration with you. You have found that that policy which built up these shops, which maintains them, which secures the largest output yearly from the factories, which gives employment to the largest number of men, is the best thing not only for the railroads that do the transportation, but for the workingmen, who find steady employment at good wages, and for the farmers, who supply their needs. [Applause.] You will not willingly be led to believe that any policy that would check the progress and the prosperity of these enterprises is good for you or for the community in which you live. [Applause and cries of "No, never!"] It will be hard to convince such an intelligent body of workingmen that a policy which would transfer from this country to any other the work that might be done here is good for them. [Applause.] It can easily be demonstrated that if our revenue laws were so adjusted that the imports from Great Britain should be doubled it would be good for the workingmen of England, but I think it would be hard to demonstrate that it would be good for the workingmen of America. [Applause.] There is a wise selfishness; it begins at home, and he who has the care of his own family first, of the community in which he lives, of the nation of which he is a citizen, is wise in his generation. Now, my friends, I have been daily talking. I used to be thought by my friends to be a reticent man. [Laughter.] I fear I am making an impression that I am garrulous. [Cries of "No! No!"] And yet, when friends such as you take the trouble you have to-night to visit me, I feel that I owe it to you to say something.