with the duties of public station. No changes occurred in this cabinet during Garfield's brief administration.

The opportunities given Garfield for a test or exhibition of his powers or purposes as the Chief Executive of the land, were far too few and circumscribed during the few months of his incumbency to do him justice, or to present to the people anything more than a suggestion of what might have been, had the useless sacrifice of his life been mercifully withheld. After his accession to the Presidency there was no session of congress to open a pathway for usefulness in his influence upon legislation. The senate was in session until May 20, but its chief time was occupied in an internal warfare over the choice of its officers. The question of calling an extra session was wisely decided in the negative, and therefore no occasion arose for his services in that direction. The only important avenue through which he could begin the performance of his duties as he construed them to be, lay in his appointments to office, and it was because of his independence in the exercise of his constitutional rights in this direction, that the tragedy of July 2 became possible. On March 22 he sent a number of nominations for office to the senate, including those for district attorneys and marshals for New York state, and for the collector of customs at Buffalo. These were presumed to be in all respects acceptable to Messrs. Conkling and Platt, the senators from New York. On the day following several other appointments were sent in, including those of William H. Robertson for collector of New York, Edwin A. Merritt for consul-general at London, and William E. Chandler for solic itor-general. The selection of Mr. Robertson-who had been one of the leaders in the Chicago convention in opposition to Mr. Conkling and the nomination of Grant-was in direct opposition to the desires of the senior senator from New York, who claimed a voice in the selection of officers within his own state; but the President based his action not only upon the ground that he had a right to make such appointments as he chose, but upon the specific idea that he regarded this appointment as one,of National rather than local rank, and as affecting the whole people, and not merely those of New York. Because of a deadlock in the senate over the election of its officers, no executive sessions were held until May 4, when it appeared that Senator Conkling was determined to antagonize to the uttermost the appointment of Mr. Robertson, basing his course upon the plea that he had a right to be consulted and that no appointment displeasing to him should have been made. The President resolutely faced the opposition that had thus arisen and determined to have the question debated fully then and there, in the senate and before the people, and decided to a finality before the contest should have an end. On May 5 he withdrew all the other New York nominations, with the evident purpose of compelling a separate and test consideration of that for the New

York collectorship. It soon became apparent to Senator Conkling, and his associate and defender, Senator Platt, that the President was stronger than they; and accordingly they decided upon one of the most surprising movements to be found in the whole history of American politics-on the sixteenth of May they abruptly and defiantly threw up their senatorial commissions and went back to the people of New York for endorsement and vindication, expecting a speedy and triumphant return to the senate, from whence they could wage determined and implacable war upon the White House during the remainder of Garfield's term. But the legislature of New York, which was then in session, was not willing to become a tool of revenge and a means of party disruption at any man's bidding, and the vindication and return so speedily expected and so eagerly desired, did not come at the word of command. Forces not foreseen had made themselves suddenly apparent-respect and admiration for Garfield; staunch friendship for Robertson; rebellion against the long and impetuous rule of Conkling, that had been long nurtured in secret and now dared to make itself apparent; a belief that the President was in the right; and above all, dislike of the spirit of the deserting senators and the purpose held as their guide and rule of action in the future. From confident expectation, the ex-senators fell to alarm and dismay, and all the resources at their command were brought into requisition to compel the assembly to deliver that which it would not yield of its own free will. It was at this juncture that the personal loyalty of Vice-President Arthur to his friends caused him to perform an act that it is difficult to condone in one of his position-he went in haste to Albany in obedience to Mr. Conkling's bidding, and used all the influence at his command to secure the return of Conkling and Platt. But it was all in vain. Others were eventually chosen in their place, and they were allowed to pass with such feelings as they might command, into the quiet of unofficial life. But out of this long, exciting and bitter contest came consequences which no man foresaw and no man could have foreseen—that had no part in it and yet came of it-the purpose of murder on the part of one who believed that with Garfield gone, those who should succeed to his power would defend the assassin as their deliverer and reward him for his deed.

The senate endorsed the President's course by a confirmation of his appointment; New York endorsed it by the refusal to return Messrs. Conkling and Platt; and the people endorsed it by so many marks of approval that there could be no mistake as to their attitude or sympathy. But out of this internal conflict-opened upon the threshold of an administration that had begun amid such cheering prospects and about which such high hopes had clustered-there came discord, a warfare of words, denunciation and recrimination of the party press, hatred and envy, and the malice which party passion too often creates but that soon dies away.

Amid it all Garfield went his way, doing his duty as he read it in his many cares, and hopeful that quiet and good feeling would once more resume its sway. Of the few days preceding his assassination, a writer who saw him constantly has left this record: "During the few days President Garfield spent at Long Branch, the rapid recovery of his wife from her serious illness and his own comparative rest from the official work produced a marked effect upon him. He spoke of his excellent physical health and talked cheerfully of having got through with the severest strain likely to come upon him during his administration. Much of his old, hearty, genial, frank manner, of which the cares of office had seemed to be robbing him, came back in his intercourse with his friends. He showed much pleasure at the near prospect of revisiting the scenes of his college life at Williamstown, Massachusetts, and promised himself the delight of reviving oid memories with his classmates, and being for a little time in thought a boy again. His habitual mental state of late was, however, one of great gravity."

This brief vacation, to which the President so hopefully turned his face, had arrived, and full of anticipation and a new sense of freedom from care, he left the White House on the morning of July 2, 1881, and proceeded to the Baltimore & Potomac depot, from which he was to take the train to New York.

The dark deed that had been long matured was ready for its performance, and as the great leader, the noble man, and the Chief Executive of the Nation, walked arm and arm with his secretary of state into the depot building, two shots rang on the air, and the strong man became as a child, prone in an agony that should end only in death. The details of that sad and needless crime need not be recounted here. That Charles J. Guiteau, or that any man, could commit a crime like that in a clear mind and cool blood seems beyond all possibility; and let us hope for the honor of mankind and the good name of America, that he was not responsible for the deed he did, although the punishment that befell him upon the scaffold was demanded and will be forever justified.

Amid the mourning of the people everywhere, in the hush that had fallen. but once before in our land, and with trembling hope and unspoken fear in the hearts of all, the stricken form was carefully removed to the White House, and all that the highest skill could offer or money and love furnish or suggest, was given freely that his life might be saved. But day by day he failed and grew weaker, hope died, and the end came nearer and still more near. July and August went slowly by; September came, and in its early days the broken and wasted form was carefully carried to Elberon by the sea, where it was hoped the fresh air of ocean would give him a new hold on life. But all in vain. With wan, fevered face, tenderly lifted to the cooling breeze, he looked out wistfully upon