“The men knew this, and saw and felt his power. He looked at the man, and not at the clothes?”
“Yes, that is just it.”
Mr. Blaine’s business and home-life are so blended, it is impossible to separate them. He never left his business at the office. It was all hours and every hour with him, except upon the Sabbath.
He took some time to look after the education of his children, something as his father and grandfather had dealt with him. But Mrs. Blaine, having been a teacher, took this responsibility upon herself. They all attended the public schools of the city, and were early sent away to academy, college, and seminary. The home always had an air of intelligence. Busy scenes with books were common, day and night. Materials for writing, papers, magazines, and books for general reading, and for review, seemed omnipresent. There is order and system amid all the seeming confusion.
Mrs. Blaine’s hand and touch are felt and seen everywhere. She is a large, magnificent woman, a born queen, as fit to rule America as Queen Victoria to rule England. She has a quiet, commanding air, with nothing assumed or affected about her. A gentle, wholesome dignity makes her a stranger to storms, and her clear, strong mind makes her ready and at home in society. She is not a great talker, and encourages it in others by listening only when it is sensible. She is too wise and womanly to ever gush, and never encourages talk about her husband. There is nothing patronizing about her.
The fact is, the presidency, since the death of Mr. Garfield, and the terrible ordeal through which they then passed, has been very serious business to them. They have not labored for it. It has been thrust upon them,—for they are one in every sympathy and every joy.
About a year ago, while calling upon his old friend, Ex-Gov. Anson P. Morrill, Mr. Morrill said,—
“Are you going to try for the presidency again, Blaine? Come, now, tell me, right out. I want to know.”
“No, sir,” was the reply. “I do not want it. If you could offer it to me to-night, I would not accept it. I am devoted to my book at present, and love it, and do not wish to be diverted from it.”
Mr. Morrill went on to say, that “eight years ago, when they tried to nominate him at Cincinnati, I was opposed to it, and told my neighbor, Mr. Stevens, I would not vote for him. I thought he was too young, and had not grown enough.”