After some moments, he said, "Well,--" and hesitated.
"Mr. Hoover," she said, "I know you are a busy man. You don't have
to stand here trying to think of something to say to me. I know you
well enough not to be offended if you don't talk to me at all while
I am here."
He laughed and took her at her word. He had the habit of too great
relevancy to be human. If he could have said more than "Well" to
that woman, he might have been President.
HENRY CABOT LODGE
When Henry Cabot Lodge was elected to Congress thirty-four years
ago there were no portents in the heavens, but there was rejoicing
in his native city of Boston and in many other places. It was
hailed as the dawn of a new era. Young, he was only thirty-seven,
well educated, a teacher of history, and with six serious books to
his credit, he was a new figure in politics; Providence, moving in
its mysterious way, had designed him to redeem politics from its
baseness and set a shining example.
Everything was in his favor; he was not only learned, so learned,
in fact, that he was promptly dubbed the "scholar in politics," but
he was rich, and therefore immune from all sordid temptation; he
was a gentleman. Mr. Lodge's forbears had been respectable
tradesmen who knew how to make money and to keep it--and the latter
trait is strongly developed in their senatorial descendant.
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