Strange, Washington loved, trusted and relied upon Jefferson and Marshall; Madison, the near friend of Marshall, the beloved protegé and dearest friend of Jefferson; Patrick Henry, the sharer of the political views of Jefferson, the friend and admirer of Marshall. Yet the most intense personal antipathy existed between Marshall and Jefferson. They entertained for the political motives and acts of each other pronounced distrust and suspicion.

Marshall favored Burr as against Jefferson in their candidacy for the presidency, and became passive, only at the earnest solicitation of Col. Hamilton. The public life of Marshall and of Jefferson was a success, an invaluable heritage to nation and the states. Perhaps their divergent views and their mighty influence averted radicalism in our system of government.

When Marshall ascended the bench, Jay and Ellsworth had presided; the court had existed eleven years; less than one hundred cases had passed to judgment; less than one dozen volumes of reports of ordinary size would have contained all the decisions of all the colonial state and federal courts to that time. The federal Constitution was without judicial construction; compli cations growing out of European wars presented questions for settlement; the authority of the United States had been extended by treaty over new territory; the novel questions arising from these conditions were not to be settled by the authorities alone, but by the application of the principles of right reason. Not remarkable for juridical learning, his wonderful faculty of sound discriminating judgment and a sense of right, legal as well as moral, peculiarly adapted him for ruling these questions.

Time permits not to even enumerate the distinguished associates who sat with Marshall. They contributed to his great work, but his was the master mind of their deliberations. Of the twenty-five cases reported in 1 Cranch, the opinions in twenty-four are from the pen of Marshall. Dissenting opinions

were rare.

At the altar of this high tribunal ministered Webster, Emmett, with his saddened life and touching eloquence; Pickney, of Maryland, with his chastened classical oratory, who said of Marshall: "He was born to be chief justice of any country in which he lived;" and many others equally illustrious. Marshall sat a giant among giants upon the bench and at the bar.

Arguments were patiently heard, yea, demanded by Mr. Marshall. Cases deliberately considered, his opinions, not filed

until prepared with the greatest care, models of reasoning and judicial style. Commencing with Marbury vs. Madison, came in quick succession many questions of constitutional and international law. Marshall, like Lords Hoit and Mansfield, was called upon to frame a system of jurisprudence. It required an intellect of the highest order. Like them, he equaled the occasion. He believed that the Constitution was intended to create a strong national government. This construction, urged in his early life, was a powerful though insensible influence working through his judicial service.

Another judge of a different political faith, equally honest, might logically have reached different conclusions. He found the Constitution without construction; at the end of his long and eminent career he left a harmonious system of constitutional law.

Every grace of character was the guest of his private life. It would be a profanation to invade the tender relations of his family circle, to more than mention his chivalric devotion to a delicate wife. In public life, wise, conservative. He entered public service not from choice, but from duty. His position upon public questions was determined not by their popularity, but by his belief in their merit. To be a Federalist was to be opposed to a majority of the ablest and purest characters of his native state. To support the Jay treaty was to be in the minority in the republic. To preside with God-like impartiality at the trial of Burr was unpopular. Few characters present so much in public and private life to emulate.

Gentlemen, that in this subject I have traversed paths trod by many of you years ago, I know; that all of you are generally familiar with the subject of this toast, I appreciate; but a pilgrimage to this shrine, although the worshipper may have knelt before, is inspiration anew to the high duties of our noble profession and the purposes of the organization of this association.

The Toastmaster:

I wish to remark that no individual, in the highest sense, is responsible for the place of his birth. It is largely a matter of environment at the time of the "auspicious occasion," and when I announce that Judge Philips was born in

the state of fine horses and beautiful women it is not meant to be a reflection upon his discretion and his good judgment. Every good Kentuckian fondly hopes and expects to go to Missouri when he dies, but Judge Philips, who is to respond to a toast upon "The Ninth Beatitude," early developed a theological tendency so strong in character as to lead his parents to translate him not exactly in a chariot of fire, but in an ox wagon from the Blue Grass State to the only other state in the Union. Judge Philips has always belonged to the church militant. Goethe, the celebrated German poet and philosopher, once said that there is no more pitiful spectacle in the whole world than a man hesitat ing between two absolutely conflicting and antagonistic opinions, eagerly seeking to reconcile them and unable to understand that nothing can unite them except that very indecision of character which is at once the bane of his existence and the patent badge of his weakness. The poet was not alluding to Judge Philips. For if there be a man whose opinions are crystallized, it is that distinguished jurist. When Judge Philips arrived in the state of Missouri, en route for that better land, his "mover-wagon" stopped near Sedalia. Even then the clouds of war were hanging on the horizon. Soon by his fairness and personal integrity and geniality he made for himself a host of friends in that hospitable state.

It meant social ostracism to ally himself with the Union as against the Rebel sentiment of Missouri. Philips loved the people of that state, but he loved better still the preservation of the integrity of this government. As he has shown himself in the position of federal judge, so he exhibited himself in the waran honest antagonist-a strong and vigorous personality-ever tempering justice with mercy. No man can realize what it meant for a Southern man to disregard the antecedents of the past and to ally himself upon the side of right and of human justice. And then, too, after the war had closed and the firm of Philips & Vest took shape and integrity, there came into the state of Missouri a new era to the young men of that state. Broadhead, Glover, Hardin, Philips, Williams, Henry and Vest, recognizing their own greatness, their own transcendent individuality, felt no narrow jealousies, which leaders of the bar too often have manifested towards rising men in the state of Colorado, and they thus made for themselves loving adherents and firm friends by their uniformly courteous recognition and treatment of the young

men of the bar. There are more than two or three men in the state of Colorado who love the names which I have just recited— love them because there was no jealousy felt by these big men towards the younger men in our great fraternity.

Judge Philips, it is said, upon one occasion since he has been upon the bench, presided in a case in which the defendant was charged with the commission of some violation of the federal statutes. The prisoner was defeated by Major Warner, of Kansas City, who put up a most vigorous defense, and, after the arguments had been made and Judge Philips had charged the jury, and in so doing, to the prisoner at least, seemed to participate in the argument, the young man was found guilty as charged. Warner went around to him and said, "Well, John, I have done the best I could for you. How do you like it?" "Well," he says, "Major, I hain't got nothin' agin you, but if I had known afore I started in this, what I know now, I would have retained that little bullet-head rooster that made the last speech."

I wish to say that Judge Caldwell, of Arkansas, and Judge Philips, of Missouri, have done more, each in his own jurisdiction, to efface sectionalism and to rekindle, in Arkansas and Missouri, the fires of patriotism than any other two men in this nation. I wish also to say that no two men have more endeared themselves by their rare combination of fairness and justice and mercy to their people than have these two eminent members of the bench. It is idle for me to attempt to introduce so well-known a personality as that of the gentleman who will address you.

It gives me very great pleasure to present to you United States District Judge John F. Philips, of Sedalia, whom we love here in Colorado as his people there love and revere him.

TOAST OF JUDGE JOHN F. PHILIPS.

"THE NINTH BEATITUDE."

Mr. Toastmaster and Gentlemen of the Bar: Good manners exact that when a guest repeats an ancient anecdote the company should laugh more heartily, and if he talks too much and says too little the greater should be the interest manifested. With this understanding thoroughly established between us I will open with the story of a Methodist circuit rider in one of

the back counties of Kentucky, not far from where your distinguished guest, and my old friend, Adlai Stevenson, was born. This disciple was always "short on call"-to a good pasture, and, like others of his profession, the poorer he grew the more children came to share his poverty. But there came a long hiatus even in the comfort of new-born children. Some good Samaritan started a subscription in the parson's behalf, and on a Saturday evening, accompanied by the neighbors, he called at the parsonage, and to the great surprise and greater joy of the poor man, presented him with the sum of $400. It so happened that on the same evening there was born to him another pensioner to share his bounty. It was the well known habit of this man, when any kind of temporal blessing befell him, at the next Sunday's sermon to return fervent thanks. Two bad boys, present on the occasion of the donation party, knowing that at the morrow's services the parson would warm up, made a bet, one that the preacher would first return thanks for the $400 and the other that he would first name the baby. So next day these boys went to church and took seats side by side to watch the result. The parson showed at once unusual unction in the opening prayer, then, raising his voice, exclaimed: "O, Lord, we thank Thee for life and health, a preached Gospel, and the hope of salvation, and in an especial manner do I thank Thee this morning for recent succor!" When he uttered the words "recent succor" the boys nudged each other and said: "Bet's off-both win."

While I am most thankful that after another year of hard work I am permitted again to drink in the pure air of Colorado, and rest beneath the grateful shadow of Pike's peak, when the moment has arrived for me to respond to your kind and complimentary call, I feel that I am a "sucker" for accepting the invitation, as I know I must disappoint any reasonable expectation you may entertain. But, like the Denver girl who said that "a kiss might be conjugated, but never declined," I do not know how to decline. An invitation to make a speech is apt to excite two passions; first, our vanity, and, second, a disposition to be obliging. At my age of life I have lost something of the first incentive, but I trust I am not wholly wanting in the latter virtue. I come, after the lapse of a year, around this festal board, with words of cheer and an invocation for blessings. I am trying to live under the sentiment of the beatitudes pronounced by the Great Master as He stood upon the moun