vantage by the interruptions, it was on account of the weakness of the advocate, and not of the cause for which I speak.

Your Honors, here are two threshold questions of jurisdiction. To the consideration thereof I invoke the careful, thoughtful and conscientious consideration of the court. I am sure I need not, by any word of mine, attempt to stimulate your courage to deal with any question that can be submitted. It would be a disrespectful suggestion. Because the court that, walking uprightly in the strength and dignity of the high office it exercises, and defying clamor, refuses to decide questions of which it has not jurisdiction, will outlive clamor, and will establish itself in the confidence of the whole people, a confidence which gives its judgments strength and executes its decrees without the aid of force.

As some periods in the text of this chapter may appear extravagant, it may be well to fortify them; and, for that purpose, I am glad to avail myself of a letter received from W. P. Fishback, Esq., under date of July 13, 1888.

Mr. Fishback was a member, as has been stated, of the firm of Porter, Harrison & Fishback, and says:

I saw General Harrison first in 1850 at Miami University. My room at Mr. High's boarding-house was next to David Swing's, and Ben (Harrison) came regularly on his way to Prof. Elliott's room to get some coaching in Pindar from Swing, who was his classmate. Ben was at the head in Latin and mathematics; so was Milt. Saylor of the same class. But they both, and I might say the whole class, looked upon Swing as the best in Greek.

In the Union Literary Society Ben was a star. I remember his faculty in extemporaneous speech amazed me, a faculty which he has improved wonderfully. all my knowledge of him I never knew him to trip in a

In

sentence. He seemed to see about two well-rounded sentences ahead of him all the time. . . . . During the time I was his partner he worked like a slave. He was Reporter of the Supreme Court and prepared the "syllabuses" or "syllabii," as the case may be, at his home at nights. He was working to pay for his house, and came near wrecking his health by overwork. . . . . Before he came home from the field Porter and I, who were partners, wanted him to become second man in the firm of P., H. & F.-second in place, but always facile princeps in ability and industry. I have never been a laggard myself, neither has Porter; but I declare that of all the men I have known in professional life, Ben Harrison is the most diligent, painstaking and thorough. . . .

It was the rule in our firm, when we were for the defense, to make Ben close for our side. If he made the first speech we were like Riley's old father in the poem, "Nothin' to say." That is literally true. More than once, when some other pressing duty was calling him, he would be allowed to make the first speech; and it was amusing to see Porter, as Ben proceeded. He would strike out from his notes one thing after another until Ben had finished. Then, when he was done, we would put our heads together and wisely conclude to let the case go with one speech for our side. He was a merciless reaper; nothing, absolutely nothing, was left for the most careful gleaner. Porter will bear me out in this. . . As an examiner of witnesses I never saw his (Harrison's) equal. He knew when to quit. He generally knew a tartar without catching it. Once an irascible elderly lady was on the witness stand. She testified with great spirit and extravagance; she was one of the "willingest" you ever saw. When passed to Ben for cross-examination there was a look of triumph in her eye. She squared herself for a bout, when Ben said: "You may stand aside, madam."

"Oh, I have heard of you; you can cross-question me as much as you please; I am not afraid of you," said she.

"I have no questions to ask you, madam," was the

bland reply, and she was finished. She had most effectually destroyed whatever of weight there might have been in her evidence, and Ben allowed her to retire. .... Ben's fidelity-absolute and unqualified by the magnitude of the interests involved in a case-was another marked feature of his style of work. If we had consented to take a case; no matter how small, it was prepared for trial by him with as much care as if the controversy was of the greatest importance. His notes for cross-examination were always complete; and I never saw a dishonest witness get out of his hands without exposure. Men of his rare ability are sometimes led to abuse their power, but he never did this to my knowledge. The jury could always see that he was fair with the witness and gave him full opportunity for explanation and escape if there was any chance. . . . . One of his greatest triumphs in cross-examination was in the celebrated Clem murder case. Three persons were indicted for the murder-Mrs. Clem, William Abrams, and Syke Hartman (Mrs. Clem's brother). Each of them attempted to prove an alibi. The murder was committed about four miles from Indianapolis on a Saturday afternoon at quarter past four o'clock in September, 1868. Two reputable ladies swore that at four o'clock on the day of the murder they met and conversed with Mrs. Clem in the New York store in the city of Indianapolis. If this were true the whole theory of the prosecution was wrong. The circumstances tended to show that Mrs. Clem murdered Mr. Young with her own hand, and the case rested wholly on circumstantial evidence. The alibi witnesses were apparently honest. That they had met and conversed with Mrs. Clem at the place, and at the time and day they named, was beyond question. It was equally certain that it was on Saturday; and that it was the identical Saturday when the murder was committed they were sure. That they were mistaken we were sure, but how to show it was the question. Ben went at it on the theory that he could, by cross-examination, show that it was some other Saturday. The force of an alibi depends upon its covering the exact time the other facts,

with all their circumstances, may have occurred; but the time is the thing. Ben asked them to name something else that happened the day they met Mrs. Clem. A letter had been written to a friend in Pennsylvania, for one thing. That did not help the matter. It was necessary to have them state something which could be traced and shown to have occurred at another time. Patiently, persistently and politely they were asked again and again by way of suggestion if this or that had happened. At the end of a long siege the mother's eye lit up, and she said: "Oh, yes; I remember now. It was the day the constable from 'Squire Fisher's came to serve a subpœna on us." In ten minutes the docket of Esquire Fisher was in the court room, the subpoena and return were there, and it appeared that it was Saturday, the week after the murder, when they saw Mrs. Clem in the store. was still at large at that time; and we proved by other witnesses that she was down town shopping that day. The alibis for the other defendants were very clumsy and were more easily disproved. . . . . I have been suspected of having an exaggerated estimate of Harrison's ability; but I declare that, in my experience of thirtytwo years, I have never seen a man in whose hands I would be more willing to place my imperilled life or fortune than in his. I have heard some men say that he is overrated; but they were generally those who had never grappled with him in a hard fight. No lawyer who ever met him before court or jury will talk that

way.

She

On this testimony the chapter given to General Harrison's professional career may be rested.

CHAPTER IV.

THE SOLDIER.

THE fruits of the great Union victory at Pittsburg Landing, April 7, 1862, were first, the recovery of the Mississippi river to its mouth; second, the separation of the Trans-Mississippi States of the Confederacy, Arkansas, Louisiana and Texas, from the States eastward of the river. These fruits were lost by the inaction that followed the victory, and by dividing the magnificent army gathered at and around Corinth into detachments, and scattering them aimlessly up and down the country.

The disappointment to the loyal people of the West consequent upon the failure to realize something commensurate with the success was intensely bitter. At length General Buell was ordered to march the Army of the Ohio to Chattanooga, and hold it for some succeeding operation all unknown except to General Halleck, chief commander of the army, and there have been great suspicions that on that ulterior point even he was not fully made up in mind.

There can be little question that General Buell could have established himself in Chattanooga if

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