made him forget the humiliation of defeat and the anxieties besetting him. Lafayette was visiting the United States, and wherever he went, all the bitter quarrels of the presidential struggle were silenced by the transports of enthusiasm with which he was received. He appeared among the American people as the impersonation of their heroic ancestry to whom they owed everything they were proudest of. Only Washington himself, had he risen from the grave, could have called forth deeper feelings of reverence and affection. As the guest of the nation, he was invited to the Capitol, and Clay had to welcome him in the House of Representatives. It was a solemn and touching scene. Clay delivered an address full of feeling. With delicate instinct, the orator seized upon the poetic side of Lafayette's visit. “The vain wish has been sometimes indulged,” said he, “that Providence would allow the patriot, after death, to return to his country, and to contemplate the intermediate changes which had taken place, to view the forests felled, the cities built, the mountains leveled, the canals cut, the highways constructed, the progress of the arts, the advancement of learning, and the increase of population. General, your present visit to the United States is a realization of the consoling object of that wish. You are in the midst of posterity.”
The relations between Clay and Lafayette were of the friendliest character. They had long been in correspondence, which continued for years after
