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  his talk, although not remarkable for wit or eloquence, had to me a peculiar fascination. It produced, upon me at least, the impression of modestly withholding behind it a great store of serene reserve power, and it flowed on so placidly as to make me feel as if I were in a gently rocking boat floating down a tranquil stream meandering through green meadows. His very being seemed to be enveloped in an atmosphere of peace and noble sympathy. I have seen him quietly entering social gatherings of men and women when everybody seemed at once to become sensible of the mellow sunshine radiating from his presence, and all faces, old and young, turned to him with an expression of something like joyous affection. Of the public men whose acquaintance I made on the occasion of the Jefferson dinner, John A. Andrew and Frank W. Bird stand prominent in my memory. Andrew, destined to become famous as the great war-governor of Massachusetts, was a man of extraordinary personal magnetism. His ruddy face topped with blonde curly hair fairly beamed with the energy of youthful enthusiasm. He was a picture of sturdy manhood. The genial warmth of his nature raised the temperature of the very air around him. There was in his speech a cordial ingenuousness, an impetuous, earnest vivacity, and a directness and sincerity so evident, that it irresistibly commanded your confidence. He was one of the rare men with whom you instinctively wished to agree when he spoke to you. He had not only the intellectual and moral qualifications but also the temperament of a leader, and a leader, too, who would attract the best part of the community in point of morals and intelligence, as a trusty personal following. He would have become a great figure on the field of national polities had he not died so young.

Frank Bird was a man of a different type. I was at first