Perhaps his most pleasing trait was his genial, social manner. Always gay, cheerful, and humorous, he scattered flowers on the pathway of his friends and acquaintances. His wit was free from sting. If in the excitement of debate he inflicted pain, he was ready and prompt to make amends, and died, as far as I know, without an enemy or an unhealed feud. I had with him more than one political debate and controversy, but they left no coolness or irritation. In our last conversation in the spring of 1889, we talked of old times and early scenes more than thirty years past and gone, and he recalled them only to praise those who differed with him. He had malice for none, but charity for all. In that endearing tie of husband and wife, which, more than any other, tests the qualities of a man, both he and his wife were models of unbroken affection and constant help to each other.
He was fond of travel, and wrote several books descriptive of scenes and incidents of his journeys. He also wrote historical works. He entered, as an author, a lecturer, and a speaker, many fields of research, and in all sustained his reputation as a brilliant writer and speaker, always interesting and often eloquent, a close student who fully mastered his subject, and withal a man of generous impulses, kind and cheerful nature, a true friend, and a faithful public servant. This all can be said truly and without exaggeration of Mr. Cox. He did not contemplate death when I saw him last. His untimely death was the first news I received on my arrival in New York from a journey abroad. I am told that he met the common fate of all with patient confidence and an assured hope and belief in the doctrines of the Christian faith and the promise of future life.
It is fortunate that man cannot know the future, and especially that future beyond human life. Socrates, when condemned to death, consoled himself with the inconceivable happiness in a future state when he would converse and associate with and question the mighty array of heroes, patriots, and sages who had preceded him. He said to his judges, "It is now time to depart—for me to die, for you to live. But which of us is going to a better state is unknown to everyone but God." We cannot lift the veil, but may we not share the hope of the wisest of men that our farewell to associates who go before us is but a brief parting for a better life?
I have been frequently assailed for my part in the passage, in the spring of 1864, of a law to encourage immigration. In reporting this bill from the committee on finance, on the 18th of February of that year, I said:
"The special wants for labor in this country at the present time are very great. The war has depleted our workshops, and materially lessened our supply of labor in every department of industry and mechanism. In their noble response to the call of their country, our workmen in every branch of the useful arts have left vacancies which must be filled, or the material interest of the country must suffer. The immense amount of native labor occupied by the war calls for a large increase of foreign immigration to make up the deficiency at home. The demand for labor never was greater than at present, and the fields of usefulness were never so varied and promising.
"The south, having torn down the fabric of its labor system by its own hands, will, when the war shall have ceased, present a wide field for voluntary white labor, and it must look to immigration for its supply.
"The following may be mentioned as the special inducements to immigration:
"First. High price of labor and low price of food compared with other countries.
"Second. Our land policy, giving to every immigrant, after he shall have declared his intentions to become a citizen, a home and a farm substantially as a free gift, charging him less for 160 acres in fee-simple than is paid as the annual rent of a single acre in England.
"Third. The political rights conferred upon persons of foreign birth.