was a unanimous one. Henry Wilson, of Massachusetts, was nominated for the Vice-Presidency. The platform vindicated the Republican policy of reconstruction, emancipation, suffrage, equal rights; asked for a humane Indian policy; a Pacific railroad; public lands for actual settlers; protection to immigration; sound and uniform national currency; economy; enforcement of the new amendments to the constitution; gradual reduction of public debt; and wound up with hearty approval of Grant's first administration.

The Democrats met in National Convention, in Baltimore, July 9th, 1872, and, by prearrangement, accepted the candidates and platform of the Liberal Republicans. A straight out Democratic Convention met at Louisville, and nominated Charles O'Conor, of New York, for President, and John Quincy Adams, of Massachusetts, for Vice-President, on an old-fashioned platform. The Temperance party was also in the field with regular candidates and a platform.

The campaign was peculiar in every respect. The Republicans were sanguine from the start. They felt that they had an invincible nominee, and that the country would approve their platform of sentiments. The Democrats were cold toward Mr. Greeley, who had been a life-long Republican, and who, in his alienation, was pursuing a chimera. The Liberal Republicans bore the "heat and burden" of the campaign, their money, eloquence and effort almost alone contributing to its life and energy.

The November result was a bitter disappointment to the Liberal Republicans. They had neither won themselves, nor captured their Democratic allies. "Fusion had resulted in confusion" for them, was a witty after-election saying. The electoral count showed two hundred and eighty-six votes for Grant and Wilson. Mr. Greeley died in November, and the sixty-six Democratic electors voted for other persons.

In answer to the ungenerous charges that he had been ambitious to succeed himself, President Grant said:

"I never sought the office for a second, nor even for a first, nomination. To the first I was called from a life position-one created by Congress expressly for me for supposed services rendered to the Republic. The position vacated, I liked. would have been most agreeable to me to have retained it until such time as Congress might have consented to my retirement, with the rank and a portion of the emoluments which I so much needed, to a home where the balance of my days might be spent in peace, and in the enjoyment of domestic quiet, relieved from the cares which have oppressed me so constantly now for fourteen years. But I was made to believe that the public good called me to make the sacrifice.

"Without secking the office for the second term, the nomination was tendered to me by a unanimous vote of the delegates of all the States and Territories, selected by the Republicans of each to represent their whole number for the purpose of making their nomination. I cannot say that I was not pleased at this, and at the overwhelming endorsement which their action received at the election following. But it must be remembered that all the sacrifices, except that of comfort, had been made in accepting the first term. Then, too, such a fire of personal abuse and slander had been kept up for four years-notwithstanding the conscientious performance of my duties to the best of my understanding, though I admit, in the light of subsequent events, many times subject to fair criticism-that an indorsement from the people, who alone govern republics, was a gratification that it is only human to have appreciated and enjoyed."

He took the oath of office and was inaugurated on March 4th, 1873, amid a civic display and enthusiasm which equalled in brilliancy and intensity that of his first entry to office. His

inaugural was cautious and able. Like all his state papers it discovered a clear understanding of political situations and was

particularly firm respecting those measures of finance which. were then engaging the statesmen of all parties. As we have

shown in the chapter on his first administration, by quoting from this inaugural, he occupied even higher ground than before on the question of civil service reform. The insane cry of “Grantism,” during the campaign, and the blind but malignant fury of those who had failed to trace a single partisan charge, or even ungracious suspicion, to his personal or official door, led him to allude feelingly to himself:

"I acknowledge before this assembly, representing as it does every section of our country, the obligation I am under to my countrymen for the great honor they have conferred on me by returning me to the highest office within their gift, and the further obligation resting on me to render to them the best services within my power.

"This I promise, looking forward with the greatest anxiety to the day when I shall be released from responsibilities that at times are almost overwhelming, and from which I have scarcely had a respite since the eventful firing on Fort Sumpter, in April 1861, to the present day. My services were then tendered and accepted under the first call for troops growing out of that event. I did not ask for place or position, and was entirely without influence or the acquaintance of persons of influence, but was resolved to perform my part in a struggle threatening the very existence of the nation-a conscientious duty-without asking promotion or command, and without a revengeful feeling toward any section or individual.

"Notwithstanding this, throughout the war, and from my candidacy for my present office in 1868, to the close of the last presidential campaign, I have been the subject of abuse and slander scarcely ever equalled in political history, which to-day I feel that I can afford to disregard in view of your verdict, which I gratefully accept as my vindication."

And this verdict had been a most emphatic one. Those who had contributed, directly and indirectly, to it were Democrats as well as Republicans, political enemies as well as friends.

The election taught the moral that malice reacts on itself, and vituperation is not valid argument. Prone as the American people are to suspect and criticise, they yet love fair play. Washington was not blackened by false charge or slanderous epithet. Jefferson lived down all the malicious falsehoods respecting ambition and intrigue. Jackson defied his detractors and increased his popularity amid the cruel fires of misrepresentation and malediction. Lincoln passed the ordeal of persistent misconstruction and defamation and came out pure, respected and loved. Grant, who had never had a dishonest intent, who had never failed to acknowledge and correct a mistake, had already received such vindication as the people could give at a presidential election, and such as was most gratifying to him. Further vindication he could afford to postpone, till time had softened asperities and mellowed hostile memories, and charitable, fair and exact history came along to make its record of only sterling facts.

The President's second cabinet was duly confirmed by the Senate. A comparison of it with the first cabinet will show almost an entire change, though it was nearly the same as that of the last part of his first administration. This is not to be wondered at, for in the chaos of after war times few leaders were agreed on definite and abiding policies, and it was difficult to keep about the executive centre an harmonious band of political advisers. This very fact was turned to Grant's discredit. It of course narrowed his choice of men, and gave a show of honoring personal favorites. The unity and harmony he sought among his near advisers-cabinet officials-and without which no President can expect to succeed, were gained at the expense of broad party interests and perhaps of broader civic interests. Not that his men were not able; this no one doubted. But that they were too much of one cast of mind, too much favorites, too much pledged to single lines of thought and procedure. In any crisis this would have been right and necessary.