The Jersey City news. (Jersey City [N.J.]) 1889-1906, 1900-02-21

ready hand for the needy and the unfor-
| tunate.
Mr.. Hobart died in the very height of
| his great powers, when, with every sub
| stantial ambition gratified he was able
| to give to his country the benefit Of his
| transcendent qualities of practical states
| manship. Who can tell what higher hon
ors, what more extended usefulness might
have been his? His was pure, a bene-
| ficent. a noble life.
Two scenes linger in my memory. One
was in the drill room of the great ar
mory on the evening of June 22, 1886. Mr..
Hobart had just returned from the St.
Louis convention, the nominee of his
party for the Vice-Presidency To bid
him welcome home, to express their love
and friendship for him and their pride in
his distinction, the citizens of his town,
thousands upon thousands, men and woni-
en-, had gathered in a vast throng in the
great audience room. 1t was no political
gathering, but an assemblage combining
all the citizenship of Paterson including
the most prominent members of the oppo-
sition party-all filled with sentiments. of
admiration and rejoicing at the honor
that had come to their beloved towns
man.. l had the honor of introducing Mr..
Hobart to that vast and enthusiastic
throng, and in doing SO | took occasion
to express some sentiments which repre-
sented accurately the feelings and the
affections of all his fellow citizens.
With most evident emotion and embar-
rassment deeply affected by such an un-
precedented expression of affectionate re-
gard on the part of the people, he re-
piled to their greetings. He spoke of the
confidence and esteem which they had ex-
hibited for him. of his friends of all poll
tical parties, many of whom he called by
name, some living and some dead, and
then, with that CHARACTERISTIC apprecla.
ton and thought of others rather than of
himself he declared: This honor which
has just become mine is also yours.
Whatever I have, whatever | shall have,
is and will be one to the citizens of Pat
erson." And in closing his address, as
an expression of his gratitude and af-
fection he quoted the last stanza of those
beautiful verses in which Burns declares
his gratitude to the Earl of Glencalrn.
The other scene was in the same CITY a
little more than three years later, and
again our friend was the object of the
Of his own city and State, but of the
whole country. Thither came the Presi-
dent of the United States, the members
of his Cabinet, the Senators and Repre-
and Associate Justices of the Supreme
Court of the United States, the. Governor
of his State, his personal and pont1cal
friends from near and far, to pay their
last sad token of respect to their dead
friend. Again a great concourse of Pater-
son citizens thronged the streets, lined
the sad pathway by which his mortal re-
mains were borne to their last resting
place.
At one time he built himself a cottage
at Monmouth Beach and there spent sew
eral summer seasons, enjoying intensely
the old neighborhood associations of his
youth. From the porch on the ocean side
he loved to gaze upon the broad expanse
of the Atlantic; to see the big steamers
gliding majestically by on their voyages
northward and southwark; to watch the
| fishing boats as they dipped with the
swell far out where the bar shelves to-
ward the great depths to think of the
fisher folk, many of whom he knew by
name and with whom he was on terms
of kindly intimacy AS the discouraging
days of his illness went on and recoy-
thoughts turned to the familiar scense OF
| the Monmouth sore, and ne resolved to
go thither to Sc whether rest and restora-
tion could no be found.
So he settled for the summer near Long
Branch, not far from his birthplace, to
try whether the dear associations OF ms
| youth, the scenes of his early. struggles,
home, with the fresh air blowing shore
ward off the cool Atlantic swells, might
store his strength. At times the lamp lam
of hope burned up brightly for a little
| while, only to grow dim and hickering
again as the paroxysms OF MS 1ta,.a maiady
| Though the hand of death was upon
him, and he knew it, he did not quill
nor repine. Every hour for weary months
stood in jeopardy, not knowing at what
moment the stroke of fate might fall, but
to his friends his smile was as bright and
his words as cheerful as they ever were.
| During his long illness he was always
ready and glad to confer and advise With
| official associates, and especial with the
President, upon all the interests of his
| country for which his love and devotion
were avtive and warm to the last.
| His mind constantly went out to those
! among whom he had SO recently been
thrown in official service-the President,
! the members of his Cabinet, Senators
over whom for two years he had presided
recalling with affectionate recollection
| the scenes of his public life and the
| friends he had loved. And he counted
them all his friends. 1 do not think there
| ever lived a man more universal in his
| friendliness. Enemies he may have had;
| I cannot say, though | know of none.
do know that he was enemy to no man,
| and in his great heart there was no rem
nant of rancor, no root of bitterness. no
! thought of any fellow-man that was not
| kind and good.
IN his home by the seaside he could
| hear the long roll of the surf shifting
| against the shore and falling back into
| the great ocean with sounds like the sobs
| of broken hearts, The summer lapsed
| into autumn; he saw the flowers fading
| in the fields, the green of the leaves
| changing to red and gold, and he knew
! that for him too had come the fall of the
year. But he faced death with fearless
! heart, with the serene composure OF a
! great soul passing to its final destiny.
November q, 1889, 'he fell into that
dreamless sleep that kisses down his eye
| lids STILL"
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