"But you are from Vermont?"
"I am proud to say 'Yes,'" says I, a-bowing my best, in honor of the old State.
"Then I have some claim on your acquaintance," says he. "My name is ----."
I reached out my hand. The fire flashed into my eyes. "Our United States Senator?" says I.
"I believe the people have given me that honor," says he.
"And honored themselves in the doing of it," says I.
I declare the man blushed, showing that high parts and extraordinary knowledge haven't made him conceited. But I hadn't said a word more than the truth. Vermont, of all the States of the Union, I do think, has done herself credit in her choice of Senators. There isn't in all the Senate a man that either of 'em cannot hold his own with, and I don't believe a rough or ungentlemanly word or action has ever been on record against either of them."
Before he could answer, a gentleman came and spoke low to him. Then he said, with a pleased look:
"This is Mr. ——, our other Senator, Miss Frost, who is, I am sure, as glad to welcome you here as I am."
I turned, and saw a tall, spare man, with the kindest, mildest, and most speaking face I ever set eyes on. His voice, too, when he spoke, was just benign. I gave him my hand. If I looked half as glad as I felt, he must have seen the warmest sort of a welcome in my eyes. I felt honored by an introduction to these men. Not because they happened to be my own Senators, but because they are men of heart and brains, capable of understanding what the people want, and both honest and strong enough to maintain what they understand. I write this without hesitation, knowing that there isn't a society or household in Vermont that will not agree with my way of thinking about them.