RECOLLECTIONS OF FULL YEARS
nerves, but there was no use protesting. Quade's character was fully formed.
He used to feed Mr. Taft's private riding horse at the public expense, and Mr. Taft didn't approve of this. He thought he ought to include the pay for its keep in his personal accounts, and he told Quade so, asking him at the same time to have a bill made out so that he might settle it. Quade regarded him in utter disgust for a moment, then said:
"Well, Misther Sicretary, what with the good an' plinty o' fodder we got in the stables, I guess ye can go on a-feedin' your horse here without the Government's a-worryin' anny."
I remember going one day to a reception at the house of Justice Harlan on the occasion of his twenty-fifth anniversary on the bench. President Roosevelt was already there and as we drove up we found the bicycle policemen surrounding the entrance waiting for him. Quade, with great friendliness but with an absolute lack of decorum, leaned over on the box and shouted to them as we passed:
"Ah, Begorra! Ye'll be a-waitin' around fer my boss one o' these days!"
Faithful Quade lived to see his prophecy fulfilled, but not long afterward he lost his life at his post of duty in a shocking accident. He was driving the Department carriage for Secretary of War Dickinson's family; the pole broke, the horses became frightened and bolted. There were young children and a nurse in the carriage, so Quade bravely held on to the reins and finally succeeded in turning the horses into a fence. He saved the occupants of the carriage from injury, but he himself was thrown forward violently, falling in such a way as to break his neck.
Another War department employé whom we valued highly was Arthur Brooks, a coloured department messenger, and a major of militia. Arthur was the most useful individual I ever knew anything about, combining absolute loy-
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