CHAPTER LVII.

The Late Senator Nye-His First Entrance into the Senate-Some Personal Characteristics.

There is little difficulty in gaining admission to the floors of the senate or assembly in our state. There are often more outsiders inside the assembly chamber than is desirable, and complaint is now and then made by some constitutional "kicker," when the presiding officer calls attention to the rule regarding the admission of persons to the floor of the house from the outside world, and instructs the door-keepers to see that it is enforced, which they do for the space of possibly fifteen minutes, when, having other duties to perform, strangers crowd inside as usual, unless some one else demands the enforcement of the rule.

The state senate is a small body, and there is generally room enough in the chamber, outside the seats of the members, to accommodate all who care to be spectators of the proceedings in the upper house.

It is rather more difficult to get into the house of representatives at Washington, though there are usually about as many people in the alley back of the seats of the members and in the cloak-rooms, and who, as a rule, have no right to be there, as there are members and officers of the house. The senate, however, is more particular. The rules of that body exclude all persons from the floor while it is in session, except members of the house and other high officers, but senators can admit their private secretaries by card, and if the phrase "private secretaries" includes newspaper correspondents, friends of senators and prominent visitors to the

capitol, this is simply an evidence of the elasticity of parliamentary phraseology. When Dr. Oliver Wendell Homes entered the chamber one day, a year or two since, some one asked him how he gained admission. "Oh," said Senator Evarts, "he is my private secretary." When the senate goes into executive session only senators are admitted either to the floor or to the galleries.

And this reminds me of a story that the late General Nye, one of the wittiest and most eloquent orators that ever occupied the political rostrum, used to relate.

"I was," said he, "in the senate chamber one morning, conversing with Senator (afterwards Governor) Dix. As the hour of 12 o'clock approached, when the senate goes into session, the senator said to me, in his blandest manner, that he was very sorry that the rules of the senate were such that he could not invite me to remain in the chamber, and consequently he would be compelled to ask me to retire."

Thereupon Nye withdrew, and was standing in the ante-room, where he remained a few minutes, and until after the doors of the senate were opened. Just at this time he was approached by one of the door-keepers, who said:

"Ah, governor, you would like a seat in the chamber, and I will see that one is assigned you.

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I merely thanked the official," said Nye, "and fol lowed him into the chamber. He gave me a seat within ten feet of that occupied by my friend Dix, whom I had left a few minutes before.

"The senator looked at me in some amazement, with an expression of countenance which seemed to say: How in thunder did you get in here?' But he said nothing; neither did I.

"The senate happened to be engaged in the consideration of a subject in which I was especially interested, so I remained for a couple of hours, probably.

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Standing outside, and unable to gain admission to the floor, I noticed Erastus Corning of Albany, then a member of the New York senate, president of the Central railroad, and one of the most substantial business men our state has ever produced, who had really some claim to the seat I was occupying, whereas I had none whatever. However, I said nothing.

"The next day I was again at the capitol, and was approached by the bland door-keeper, and conducted to my old seat in the senate, and the same courtesy was shown me a third time.

"By this time I had concluded my business in Washington, and was preparing to leave.

"As I came out of the chamber for the third time, I looked up the door-keeper to whom I have referred, saying:

"My friend, may I inquire to whose courtesy I am indebted for the privilege of occupying a seat in the senate chamber during the last three days?'

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'Why,' replied the doorkeeper, are you not Governor Boggs, of Missouri?'

"Well, not exactly,' said the New York lawyer. 'I have never had the honor of being governor of Missouri or of any other state. I have never been in congress, or even held a seat in the state legislature. Indeed, I have never held office to any great extent, though at home I am known as General Nye, from the fact that in my boyhood days I was at the head of a regiment of the state militia. However, my friend, it's all right. I am stopping at the National hotel, and you will please dine with me today.'"

The invitation was accepted, and on his way to the hotel he ran against Mr. Corning, who was likewise asked to take dinner with him.

At the hour appointed, Nye and his guests sat down to a well-furnished table, at which, no doubt, there was

something to drink as well as to eat. General Nye was at home at such a gathering, and it is safe to say kept his friends in a roar of laughter by his humorous stories from the beginning to the end of the sit-down.

Subsequently, General Nye was appointed governor of Nevada, and when the territory was made a state, he was chosen United States senator, and so legitimately occupied a seat in the chamber to which he had been admitted through the ignorance of the door-keeper, who had mistaken him for a Missouri governor.

The last time I heard him speak was on the floor of this same senate chamber. His hair, originally jet black, was now tinged with gray, and he spoke with deliberation, and in a manner becoming a grave and reverend senator. I met him afterwards at his hotel, but he was apparently losing the vivacity for which he was distinguished in early life.

General Nye was born at De Ruyter, in this state, in 1814, and died at White Plains, N. Y., in 1876. Originally a democrat, he became a barnburner in 1847, and a republican on the organization of the republican party. He hated slavery, and, in connection with Thomas Star King, did much to keep the Pacific states and territories out of the clutches of the slave propagandists and in the Union during the early period of the civil war. In the campaign of 1860 he went on a tour through the west, in company with William H. Seward. Of course, the two did good political service. Nye had his faults, as have most men, but a good, true heart. He was the inflexible foe of injustice and wrong. He was district attorney of Madison county, and afterward its county judge eight years. He removed to New York in 1857, and was the first president of the Metropolitan board of police, holding the position about three years. His official life was without blemish. He was noted for his humor and conversational powers. After retiring from public life his mind became impaired.

CHAPTER LVIII.

Henry Ward Beecher-In the Pulpit and Out of it-As I Saw Him—A Thorough Democrat.

I hesitate to give my own personal recollections of Mr. Beecher, for the reason that I knew little of him that was not known by countless thousands throughout the land; for he preached in Plymouth church almost forty years, and so great has been his fame that nearly everybody who has happened to spend Sunday in New York has taken pains to cross over to Brooklyn and listen to one of his sermons. Besides, he has lectured in all parts of the north and west, lectured to vast audiences, so that there are few people who have not seen Mr. Beecher and felt personally acquainted, even though they may never have held any conversation with him. So I have known him only as a million of others knew him.

I first met him, I think, in Oswego, where he came to deliver a lecture nearly forty years ago. He spoke in a small hall on Second street, on the west side of the river. It was a little frame building, called (possibly) Franklin hall, and would seat 400 to 500 persons. It was packed, of course. After the lecture was over I was favored with an introduction to the speaker, and was afforded an opportunity of seeing something of him personally. I remember that the Hon. Alvin Bronson, then one of Oswego's most distinguished citizens, in extending congratulations, observed, "You have had a large audience, Mr. Beecher."

"Not very much of one, I should say," responded Mr. Beecher. "You have plenty of lumber here, I judge; why don't your people build a hall of some capacity,