Now, when he would find himself upon his legs in the House, he would
wonder at the hesitation which had lately troubled him so sorely. He
would sit sometimes and speculate upon that dimness of eye, upon that
tendency of things to go round, upon that obtrusive palpitation of
heart, which had afflicted him so seriously for so long a time. The
House now was no more to him than any other chamber, and the members
no more than other men. He guarded himself from orations, speaking
always very shortly,--because he believed that policy and good
judgment required that he should be short. But words were very easy
to him, and he would feel as though he could talk for ever. And there
quickly came to him a reputation for practical usefulness. He was a
man with strong opinions, who could yet be submissive. And no man
seemed to know how his reputation had come. He had made one good
speech after two or three failures. All who knew him, his whole
party, had been aware of his failure; and his one good speech had
been regarded by many as no very wonderful effort. But he was a man
who was pleasant to other men,--not combative, not self-asserting
beyond the point at which self-assertion ceases to be a necessity of
manliness. Nature had been very good to him, making him comely inside
and out,--and with this comeliness he had crept into popularity.
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