rice pudding as prepared by his excellent cook. Altogether his appetite seemed to run in the direction of starchy foods, — such as green corn, among vegetables, and whatever he liked

he liked very much. Perhaps he came nearer to excess in smoking than in any other physical habit. He had his own special brand of somewhat strong cigars, which had been carefully selected, and of which he consumed about a dozen a day.

Energetic, however, as he was by disposition, he was not physically an active man. He belonged to the generation of Americans who took no exercise. One could not by the utmost effort of the imagination associate Mr. McKinley and Mr. Hanna with a game of tennis; and when a tennis player was actually installed in the White House, a political revolution was evidently impending. Mark Hanna did not even enjoy open air and the country. He was essentially an indoor and a city man. The one kind of outdoor life which amused him was yachting or boating-particularly on the Lakes. He would occasionally take a drive, but late in life even this mild form of physical activity ceased to attract. The only stirring up which his body received came as the incidental result of the mental stimulus and excitement resulting from a keenly interesting occupation. Public speaking, for instance, was physically refreshing to him, because it afforded wholesome exertion both to body and mind.

There was nothing, however, in Mr. Hanna's physical habits which need have handicapped his work or shortened his life. His fundamental trouble seems to have been a legacy from the attack of typhoid fever from which he suffered in 1867. He was subject to attacks of congestion, which would send the blood to his head and cause him to faint. Sometimes they would last for several hours, throughout which his hands would be clenched and his body would become rigid. If he passed a year without a spell of this kind, he was lucky. They might be caused by indigestion, by a cold, or even by anxiety or emotion. If he ate a hearty meal and immediately after plunged into severe mental exertion, he was apt to suffer. The attacks were not, however, regarded seriously by the family. They usually yielded to simple remedies, and as soon as they were

over Mr. Hanna immediately recovered his strength and was up again and doing business the same day. They indicated, however, an imperfection in the circulation of the blood, which, as he grew older, might well have other effects.

In 1899 his knees began to give him some trouble. The difficulty was diagnosed as rheumatism, but it proved eventually to be an increasing chalky deposit on the knee joints, which gradually affected his finger joints as well. After this ailment fastened on him, he was always suffering more or less pain, and when he made speeches and was compelled to be long on his feet his suffering was acute. It was to get rid of this discomfort that he went abroad in the summer of 1899. Baths at Aix-les-Bains were prescribed, and Mr. Hanna took them conscientiously for three weeks. But he refused to submit to an after-cure in Switzerland, and during the three following weeks hurried rapidly over a large part of Europe. He was always a bad patient, just as he was always a man who scorned to take precautions against sources of contagion and infection. He would not submit to hygienic dictation—even when he was threatened with illness.

The cure at Aix did him no permanent good, and thereafter he suffered from minor ailments-none of which prevented him from continuing his work, but all of which taken together indicated that his body was yielding under the strain imposed by his way of living. But he was not an apprehensive man, and he was too much interested in what he was doing to listen to any prudential advice. His wife soon began to realize that he was wound up too tight and was running too fast. She tells of warning him. "I don't know how you feel about it," she said, "but to me you behave like a person who is under some strong excitement, who is rushing onward and cannot stop." He admitted that she was right, but he refused even to discuss the matter of drawing back. "I am going on," was his final word. He continued his unremitting and almost feverish activity, and for a while stood it fairly well. But in 1903 there were premonitions of a breakdown. Before beginning his long and strenuous stumping tour in the fall, he went off on a yachting trip for a month. The rest did him little good, because the boat was too much in port, where there

were people to see and big dinners to be eaten. After his return to Cleveland he was confined to his bed for a while, but he pulled himself together, and to his own intense discomfort, went through the most arduous and exciting stumping tour of his career. The way in which he sometimes felt and suffered during that tour is indicated by the story which he told one cold autumn evening to Colonel Herrick, and which is related in the last chapter.

After the election his immediate presence in Washington was required. An extra session of Congress had been called to deal with Cuban reciprocity. At the time he left Cleveland he looked extremely worn and debilitated. All his friends urged him to quit. Mrs. Hanna, too, was not well, and wanted to remain at home. But he insisted that both of them should go. He asserted that he had plenty of strength for his work and that they could save themselves by declining invitations to dinner. Such was their understanding, and they acted up to it. Between the beginning of November and Christmas they went out very rarely. On Tuesday, December 15, Mr. Hanna had a severe attack of the grip. He had planned to go to New York on Thursday for a meeting of the Civic Federation, and then to join Mrs. Hanna in Cleveland for the Christmas holidays. But on Thursday morning he was so miserable that it did not look safe to let him go alone. As Mrs. Hanna was in poor health, it was decided that Miss Mary Phelps, for many years the companion and friend of Mrs. Hanna, should accompany him. Mr. Hanna slept during the journey and that night had a little fever. Nevertheless he spent the whole of Friday at the meeting of the Civic Federation and in the evening attended a dinner of the McKinley Memorial Association. His fever still hung on, but it did not prevent him from continuing the next day his attendance of the sessions of the Federation. The dinner of that organization was scheduled for the same night. During the afternoon Mr. Hanna felt so ill that he decided to give up the dinner, but to drop in about nine o'clock and make a short speech. After dinner, however, he was taken with a severe chill, and was put to bed. His local physician, Dr. George E. Brewer, dosed him with the strongest stimulants. The chill was succeeded by a raging

fever. At midnight his temperature was 1031, and he did not sleep until towards morning.

The next day, however, his temperature returned to normal, and he insisted upon going home to Cleveland for Christmas. Miss Phelps protested, but he would have his way. They left on Wednesday, the twenty-third, in the private car of the president of the New York Central Railroad, and reached home safely the next day. On Christmas there was a large party for dinner, and on Sunday Mr. Hanna drove across Cleveland to see his son, D. R. Hanna. The day after he was at his office in the Perry-Payne building and put in an immense amount of work during the following week. But on one occasion he called for Scotch whiskey to keep him going, which was unprecedented with him. On January 4 he went to Chicago . for a visit to the dentist and to engage his accommodations for the approaching National Convention. Miss Phelps accompanied him and states that after a short session with the dentist in the morning the rest of the day until after midnight was spent in political conferences.

A few days later, January 12, found the indefatigable invalid in Columbus, Ohio, for the purpose of being present at his reelection to the Senate. After the result was announced, he made the following brief address to the Legislature—the last public utterance of his career:

"Mr. President and Gentlemen of the Seventy-sixth General Assembly of Ohio: For the great honor that your action has conferred upon me to-day, I offer my most profound gratitude, appreciating the compliment, and may I not say the vindication. I also appreciate the responsibilities which come to me at your hands by conferring upon me this great office.

"I am not vain enough to assume that the result of the great victory in Ohio in the last campaign was a personal matter, great as has been my pleasure in the interests of the party at such a result. It is more tribute to the intelligence of the people of Ohio, when they were confronted by the propositions, such as were made the issue in that campaign. I say I attribute it to their intelligence, because the arguments and pleadings made upon every issue were well defined. There could be no misunderstanding as to what they meant. The time had come in the history of our state when the people were called upon to register their verdict upon great questions so all-important to our

social conditions; the principles upon which the government itself had been founded were on trial.

"Proud I am, my fellow-citizens, and speaking through you members of this General Assembly to the people of the whole state whom I am to represent in the higher branch of Congress, that I go there not as a partisan, where the interests of my state are the issue, but as a representative of all the people, as a representative of all interests which are material to all the people, as a man to stand for you, for what are your interests socially, politically, industrially and commercially."

The day, happy as it was for Mr. Hanna, was clouded by the sudden illness or death of two old associates, both of whom were on their way to Columbus. One of these men was Charles Foster, a friend and ally of Mr. Hanna, who had been a Representative in Congress, Governor of Ohio from 1880 to 1884, and Secretary of the Treasury during President Harrison's administration. He had started for Columbus, stopped en route to see a friend, and died at the friend's house of cerebral hemorrhage. The other was ex-Governor Asa Bushnell, the man who had appointed Mr. Hanna to the Senate and then ruined his own career by joining in the cabal which sought to prevent Mr. Hanna's first election. Mr. Bushnell was visited by an apoplectic stroke while on the way to the train. A friend, who returned to Cleveland in Mr. Hanna's car, states that he was both distressed and depressed by the coincidence of these two deaths. Only those who knew him well could perceive any change in his manner; but far from well as he was at the time, he may have felt the uncertainty of his own life. As a matter of fact, there was an epidemic of typhoid at the time of his visit to Columbus, and he was there infected with the germ which caused his death.

Saturday, January 16, found him back in Washington. He went to the Senate on Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday mornings. On Wednesday afternoon, when Mrs. Hanna and Miss Phelps returned from a drive, they found Mr. Hanna lying down in his room at the Arlington Hotel. He assured them he was all right, but none the less went to bed and stayed there on Thursday and Friday and on Saturday until noon. On Sunday he was up all day until midnight. On Monday, January 25, he complained of a severe toothache, which during