on that memorable 4th of July, 1776, at the age of seventy, he put his name to the Declaration of Independence. "We must be unanimous," said John Hancock, of Massachusetts, the president of the Congress; "there must be no pulling different ways: we must all hang together." "Yes," answered the wise and witty Franklin, "we must indeed all hang together, or most assuredly we shall all hang separately." Surely now, having filled out the three score years and ten of life allotted to man, the aged philosopher and statesman may be permitted to spend in leisure whatever remnant of days may be left to him by Providence. But, no, we find him next presiding over a convention to frame a state constitution for Pennsylvania; next we find him traveling to Staten Island to have an interview with Lord Howe, the British commander, and sleeping in the same bed with John Adams and arguing that statesman to sleep with "a curtain dissertation on opening the window for ventilation." A month later he is on his way to Paris, accompanied by his two grandsons, on the most important business of his life, a commissioner to negotiate a treaty and alliance with the French monarch. Upon the success of his efforts in this capacity depends, so far as human foresight can determine, the independence of his country. For a full view of the diplomatic skill and wisdom displayed by Franklin in these negotiations, by which he secured an alliance with France and brought the French army and navy to the support of the struggling colonists in their efforts for independence, I must refer you to that prince of American historians, George Bancroft, in whose great work you will find the highest eulogiums pronounced upon the services of Frank

lin; and for a view of Franklin's associates in France and of his social position there, I must refer you to the March number of the Century Magazine the present year. Enough for our purpose now that he was successful. France became our ally. Independence was secured. Turgot, the eminent French statesman, wrote of him, in Latin, "Eripuit coelo fulmen, scep trumque tyrannis." "He snatched the lightning from heaven, and the sceptre from tyrants." He was introduced to the king and court at Versailles, and thus realized the proverb of Solomon: "Seest thou a man diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings; he shall not stand before mean men." He had an interview with Voltaire and was publicly embraced by him at the Academy of Science while the enthusiastic Frenchmen present cried out, "How charming it is to see Solon and Sophocles embrace," giving to Franklin the higher place in wisdom. In a month from that scene Voltaire was dead. Franklin lived ten years longer, busy to the last. He signed the treaty of peace by which England acknowledged the independence of his country. He then spent a few days in England where he might now go in safety and honor. Then he returned to America, was received with great demonstrations of respect and honor. He was three years president of Pennsylvania, and, when a convention assembled to frame a constitution for the whole country, a convention that did frame the Constitution under which we live, Franklin was there as a member, to give his wise counsel in the great work. It was he who, on the last day of the convention, Monday, September 17th, 1787, made the motion to sign the instrument. He supported the motion with a written speech, which, as he was too infirm to stand

and deliver it, was read by one of his colleagues. Most men under such circumstances would have been in bed with the doctors around them. But Franklin

kept up to the last. And only when his work was really finished, a work whose magnitude and grandeur a moment's backward glance at what has been said to-night, will reveal, did he retire to his home in Market Street, Philadelphia, to await that final summons which none of us can escape. He suffered much, but his homely wisdom and love of anecdote kept him company to the last. He died about eleven o'clock at night, April 17, 1790 in the eighty-fifth year of his age. "He had become the property of the nation and the world"; and both the nation and the world have been proud to assert their right to a share in his fame. He was not especially a religious man, but the virtues he exhibited are virtues without which anything that passes for religion is of very little value. He accomplished what he did by the most indefatigable industry, by a constant looking ahead and preparation for what was coming, by temperance, by honesty, by study, by self-denial, by having his eyes open so as to take in all that experience might bring to him, by interest in his fellowmen, by charity, by love unfeigned, by doing to others as he would that they should do to him. But so far as his worldly success is concerned, the key to it all is that he improved his time and made the most of his opportunities. Is not the lesson a plain one? Does it need to be enforced?

As the grave closes over the remains of such a man as Franklin, you may ask "what will he be in the life to come?" a question which we can not anYou may ask and you do ask "what has he

swer.

done?" a question which the study of his life clearly answers. But you do not ask, you would never think of asking, "how much money did he leave?” So much the better is it to be and to do than merely to get and to have. So much more surely do our acts influence and affect the world than do the possessions which we gather and leave.

THREE GREAT PRESIDENTS*

Till our fathers established a republic, the world's theory of government had been almost entirely a monarchical theory. Kings ruled, and, having once been established as kings, their children and children's children ruled after them. Our country established in 1788 the principle of an elective executive. And when one thinks of the number of people in this country, the variety of races, the multitude of varying opinions, the range of character, and the intricate complexities of politics with all the machines and combines within the political parties, it would seem improbable that the choice of the nation for president would very often be a wise one. But as a fact that choice has very seldom been unwise. Indeed I do not know, as events have happened, that it has ever been unwise.

The presidential election of 1844 was a most important one when Henry Clay was the candidate of the Whigs and James K. Polk, the candidate of the Democrats. Clay was the idol of the Whigs; Polk was comparatively unknown. I was a small boy and I remember very well that when the returns of the election in the state of New York came slowly in, and it became apparent that Clay had lost the state and thus had lost his election, I shed tears

*Delivered at the University of Minnesota, February 12th, 1909.