“I had rather be here than in the Senate,” he said on one occasion to his son, while amusing himself with feeding his cattle with ears of corn from an unhusked pile lying upon the barn floor.
Mr. Webster was a keen disciple of Isaac Walton, and spent many an hour with rod and line, when perhaps his thoughts were busy with some intricate political problem, or his mind was occupied with the composition of some speech now famous.
To Mr. Harvey’s “Reminiscences” I am indebted for the following anecdote of Mr. Webster, and indeed for most that I have said about his country life:
“Soon after Mr. Webster went to Marshfield he was one day out on the marshes shooting birds. It was in the month of August, when the farmers were securing their salt hay. He came, in the course of his rambles, to the Green Harbor River, which he wished to cross. He beckoned to one of the men on the opposite bank to take him over in his boat, which lay moored in sight. The man at once left his work, came over and paddled Mr. Webster across the stream. He declined the payment offered him, but lingered a moment, with Yankee curiosity, to question the stranger. He surmised who Mr. Webster was, and with some hesitation remarked:
“‘This is Daniel Webster, I believe?’
“‘That is my name,’ replied the sportsman.
“‘Well, now,’ said the farmer, ‘I am told that you can make from three to five dollars a day pleadin’ cases up in Boston.’
“Mr. Webster replied that he was sometimes so fortunate as to receive that amount for his services.
“‘Well, now,’ returned the rustic; ‘it seems to me, I declare, if I could get as much in the city pleadin’ law cases, I would not be a wadin’ over these marshes this hot weather shootin’ little birds.’”
Had the simple countryman been told that his companion, who was dressed but little better than himself, was making from thirty to forty thousand dollars annually by these same “law cases,” we can hardly imagine the extent of his amazement, or perhaps incredulity.