With uncovered heads, we bend today above his open grave. These yearnings for immortality for him and for ourselves, burning now within our breasts like undying fires, assure us that more of life than of death is here, while this awe unspeakable remids us that the boundaries of two worlds have well nigh touched, and that the winged attendants of the King of Glory are not far away. In life's awful battle, fought where dusky twilight holds perpetual sway, heaven's messengers of mercy cease not to search the pallid field of death, pressing the water of life to the lips of the dying and bearing the ransomed dead to their eternal home. As visitors from the unseen world lingered about the Savior's tomb, so some voice is whispering now that God's convoys are tarrying here while we say good-bye to our brother's soul. Midst this holy hush we almost feel upon our tear-wet cheeks the downy fanning of angel wings. Ere we know it, our hearts have left us and are mounting upward, following Jehovah's chariots through the skies. As young eagles reared where the sunlight never comes, when tossed by the parent bird from out their craggy nest beside some murky mountain gorge and left to fly or perish on the rocks beneath, follow their instincts and on intrepid wing mount upward till they look the blazing king of day directly in the face; so we, thrown out today above the black vortex of the unknowable, will follow that holy instinct, common to our race, and mount upward to that loving God whose radiant face our sins have hidden from our view. And we can rest assured that He who deceives not the young eagles, but brings them to the blazing realms for which their eyes were formed, will never deceive us. If we will but trust Him, not only with nature's lamp, but by His Word and Holy Spirit, He will bring us to the light for which we yearn and for which our souls were made.

Oh, yes, yes; if we will but trust in God and in His Holy Son as William McKinley did, some day we shall meet him on the bright shore to which he's gone-that Beulah land where sin and assassination and suffering and death shall come no more. Some day, some sweet day, we shall walk with him the golden streets of that Eternal City, where bells never toll, but are chiming and chiming on forever. Some day, some rapturous day, we shall enjoy with him the endless rest of unending activity, for disembodied spirits shall never tire. Some day, some glorious day, we also "shall be satisfied" when we shall "awake in his likeness."

ARGUMENT AGAINST THE TRUST.

MADE AT MARSHALL, MO., IN OCTOBER, 1902.

(From the Marshall Evening Progress.)

"As a public speaker, Mr. Wallace has but few equals, and hardly, if any, superiors. None, certainly, in Missouri of the present time whom we have ever heard. His voice is sweet and clear and ringing. He has trained it to such power and compass that he can be distinctly heard by those at a distance as well as by those who are near him. Though at times exceedingly vehement, yet he is not a violent speaker. He comes up to our conception of a master of elocution in the management of his voice and his gestures which are varied in a manner that is agreeable and natural with the varying sentiments, passions and phases of his subject. He is a most artful speaker, and is proof of the truth that oratory is as truly an art as is sculpture or painting. His attainment, too, in the use of language is not inferior to his other accomplishments as an orator. He has a wonderful grasp upon the power of words, and the vital connection with the thoughts and sentiments which they convey. No one can help admiring his inimitable diction, and to be struck by his amazing facility of utterance. In clear, successful, senseful and impassioned atterance, he is vastly superior to his competitor (Wm. J. Stone) for a seat in the United States Senate. He has also that indispensable concomitant to forceful and eloquent speaking. The sight of the fine audience at the court house, many of them Marshall's prettiest women, seemed to make the electricity tingle in his body, to put his mind in a glow, to clarify his memory, and to put him in command of all his intellectual powers.

"Mr. Wallace spoke for more than two hours, and his speech was the most profound and logical argument to which we have ever listened, while it was clothed in the purest and most classical language and imagery, and made aglow with the fire of his genius and his animated and lofty patriotism. "We admire Mr. Wallace. We have ever since his introduction into public life been doing mental tribute to him for his great moral couragefor his habit of telling great truths, such as most public men timidly forbear to speak upon.

"The Progress extends to Mr. Wallace the thanks of this community for the instruction and delight which his speech at the court house afforded us all."

THE SPEECH AT MARSHALL.

Ladies and Fellow Citizens:

OMING as I do from Kansas City, probably the newest large center of population and industry in the world, and where of necessity much attention is given to the new, the novel, and even the startling, I fear that some of my auditors tonight may be expecting a different sort of speech from the one which, in my poor way, I shall endeavor to make. To prevent total disappointment, therefore, on the part of any one, I desire to state at the outset that I am no political sensationalist. I am by no means a specimen of that modern type of public speaker known as a spell-binder. I have no appeal to make to your prejudices. The spell-binder always has. I have no false hopes to enkindle in your breasts. The spell-binder always has. I have no tirade of spleen and vilification for the man who honestly differs with me in politics. The spell-binder always has, and it is here that he reaches the climax of his transient power, because before they know it he has stirred the hates of his audience and swept the ignorant and unthinking from their feet in the whirlwind of his abuse. As the sensational preacher of our times is often crowned with choicest laurels in the pulpit, so the spell-binder often stands listening to what to him is the sweet music of the cheers and plaudits of his hearers. I may be accused of being moved by envy, but I have no sort of respect for the spell-binder, and I refuse tonight even for glory's sake, to attempt to adopt his methods.

As for myself, fellow citizens, I am a plain lawyer, who for more than a score of years has gained a livelihood by hard knocks at the Missouri bar, and I am here upon no personal mission. I am taking part in this campaign in response to four requests in writing from our State Committee. Business was such that I could not, or I should have commenced upon the reception of the first request. I shall endeavor to make tonight a practical, commonsense and so far as possible logical argument upon the profoundest question with which the American people have grappled in the past half century—the great problem of economic freedom.

I wish to thank the ladies for their presence here tonight. Woman is better than man, and when she shall oftener lend her gracious presence and purifying influence to public gatherings,

man will be better and purer in the performance of public duty, just as when she stands closely by his side, he is elevated and ennobled in all the walks of life.

The presence of ladies on public occasions may serve another and most patriotic purpose. When the beautiful city of Paris had capitulated at the close of the Franco-Prussian war, and the conquering army of the German emperor was marching in for its triumphal pageant through its gilded streets, it passed immediately under the Arc de Triumph, the most massive and resplendent structure of its kind in all the world, and upon whose granite walls are deeply carved the names and dates of the battles in which the French have triumphed over their enemies, notably the victories of the first Napoleon, Lodi, Marengo, Austerlitz, and numbers of others. When the German soldiers beheld these inscriptions, commemorating, as many of them did, the crushed out lives and liberties of their ancestors, they became so infuriated that they climbed to the top of the huge structure and began to tear it down. Of all the splendors of Paris this arch is the pride and glory of the French, and hundreds of citizens packed themselves together upon its top, that with their own bodies they might. stay the hand of the despoiler, but they were forced down, and as battalion after battalion passed under the soldiers would rush from the ranks and the work of destruction went on. Finally the patriotic and ingenious French hastened to their homes and bringing their wives and daughters placed them upon the top of the structure. The chivalric Germans, seeing them, desisted, and the Arc de Triumph was saved. So, now, when in the opinion of some of our best and wisest men, destroyers are climbing here to the top of this resplendent temple of liberty and prizing apart and casting to the ground the stones laid in place by the hands of our fathers, consecrated with their tears and prayers, and mortared together with their blood, we can place here our wives and our daughters that the despoiler, seeing them, may perchance desist, and the mighty old structure, the wonder and admiration of the world, be saved.

With this short preliminary, I am ready for the discussion of the first theme suggested, the great problem of economic freedom, which will involve a specific consideration of the burning question of the hour-Shall the trust be perpetuated or destroyed?

My friends, beyond all peradventure it was the intent of a beneficent Creator that man, who was made but "a little

glory and honor," This glorious truth

lower than the angels, and crowned with should be the possessor of perfect liberty. is taught both by Nature and Revelation. When we look without us, we find that Nature has her laws and her inexorable penalties, to be sure, but she nowhere becomes our dictator, and we can obey or disobey those laws, just as we choose. When we look within us, consciousness, the primal power of the mind, tells us that our wills are absolutely our own. So in that clearer and more specific book, God's written message to mankind, the great truth that we are freemen is taught on almost every page, from the writings of Moses to the apocralyptic visions of St. John. The most stupendous and perplexing question of all the agesWhy did a Holy and Omnipotent God permit sin to enter this world of ours?-finds its best answer, so far as my reading goes, in the sublime argument of old John Milton in Paradise Lost, that the Almighty was so determined that man should possess absolute liberty that He permitted him to forfeit Paradise rather than interfere with the freedom of his will. Those rapturous words which have so often stirred our patriotism-"all men are created equal"—were not put together by the world's greatest commoner, Thomas Jefferson, above whose grave I stand in loving awe, but were taken by him verbatim from some resolutions just passed by a body of ecclesiastics in North Carolina, who had devoted their lives to the study of divine law, and to whom the historian, Bancroft, says belongs the imperishable glory of having raised the first hand in America against the tyranny of Great Britain.

But clear as it is that man has been born a freeman, his history is the record of a slave. True, he has made a brave fight. He has reddened this ball on which we tread with his blood. He has whitened the broad highway of the centuries with his bones. But except in a few rare instances, he has never succeeded in wresting the iron scepter from the mailed hand of despotic power. Absolutism, or in plainer language, one-manism, generally in the shape of a monarchy, without written or unwritten constitution, and where all authority has been vested in a single individual, has been the usual form of government among men. Republicsa fact that should sink deeply into American hearts-have simply been oases in the vast Sahara of time, whose springs of freedom have either dried up or been filled up as the years rolled on, and today, as we await the certain coming of industrial despotism, unless its stealthy approach be impeded, Patriotism is crying out with a voice louder than ten thunders-"Dip deep the springs of