which was near and dear to all Americans. He spoke with temper and judgment, but his party realized that they had gained a powerful aid in their fight with the majority. At the last he artfully indulged in one burst of eloquence—in which he seemed carried away by his theme, but in which, like a genuine orator, he played upon his audience, and while they imagined that he had forgotten himself he was watching them. Truly they had forgotten everything but the ringing words of the speaker. He had touched the chord of true Americanism which sweeps away all parties, all prejudices. Then, amidst prolonged and vociferous cheering, he sat down. Senators and Representatives closed around him, congratulating him and shaking hands. The House was in no mood for anything after that, and a motion to adjourn was carried, nobody knew how. When at last, to escape being made to appear as if he remained to be congratulated, Pembroke was going toward the cloak room the Speaker passed near him and advanced and offered his hand. "Ah," he cried, in his pleasant, jovial way, "right well have you acquitted yourself this day. You'll find much better company on our side of the House, however, my young friend."
"Thank you," said Pembroke, smiling and bowing to the great man. "It's not bad on my own side."
The Speaker laughed and passed on.
Pembroke slipped out. It was a pleasant spring
