I came to my present position as the result of living in a world of men. It is because I have associated with them, I have worked with them, and I know my fellow Americans in many a different part of this Union and in all grades of life. [Applause.] I have worked with them. [Applause.]
TO THE MEN OF THE WEST.
Gentlemen, I am just going to give these one or two examples just to show you what I mean; that is all. For instance, I lived out West, in the cow country, quite a time, the short-grass country [laughter], and we would ship trainloads of cattle East. I and three or four other men who were going would go in the caboose at the end of the cattle train.
If the train stopped we would jump out with our poles, and we would run up along the length of the cars to poke up the cattle that had lain down, because if we let them lie down the others would trample them to death.
And usually about the time we got near the engine the train would start again. Then we would have to climb up on the first car and dance along back from car to car until we got to the last car and climb down to the caboose.
KNOWS THE BRAKEMAN.
Now, once or twice I had to perform that voyage in a late fall or early winter night with snow on the roofs of the cars and the wind blowing, and I was thoroughly contented when it was through.
And now, friends, when a workman’s-compensation act comes up and the question arises whether a brakeman, a switchman, any man of the kind should be compensated for the loss of life or limb in taking charge of the trains in which you and I travel in comfort in the Pullman cars—when that comes up I think of my feelings when I jumped from car to car on the top of that cattle train, and when a miss or slip meant the loss of a leg or an arm or the loss of my life, and I know how the brakeman feels in such a case. [Applause.]