ginning and the end of the World War so far as it directly affected this country. When the United States took up arms he gave his voice and vote to every measure that promised to hasten the war to a triumphant conclusion. He saw the vast armies forming and embarking for the titanic conflict in foreign lands. He rejoiced in the triumph of American arms in support of the allied cause. In well-timed and patriotic speech he welcomed the victorious armies on their return. His great heart was touched at the sight of the maimed and wounded. Especially poignant were his words of sympathy at the return of the mortal remains of those who fell. On May 23, 1921, the bodies of 5,212 soldiers, sailors, marines and nurses had been brought back from France, and lay on the Hoboken pier, from which so many had embarked- each casket draped with an American flag. Inspired and moved by this scene, with tears coursing down his cheeks President Harding gave utterance to words that for all time will be a part of the literature of the World War:

These dead know nothing of our ceremony today. They sense nothing of the sentiment or the tenderness which brings their wasted bodies to the homeland for burial close to kin and friends and cherished associations. These poor bodies are but the clay tenements once possessed of souls which flamed in patriotic devotion, lighted new hopes on the battle grounds of civilization, and in their sacrifices sped on to accuse autocracy before the court of eternal justice. * *

*

These heroes were sacrificed in the supreme conflict of all human history. They saw democracy challenged and defended it. They saw civilization threatened and rescued it. They saw America affronted and resented it. They saw our Nation's rights imperiled and stamped those rights with a new sanctity and renewed security. * * *

No one can measure the vast and varied affections and sorrows centering on this priceless cargo of bodies once living, fighting for, and finally dying for the Republic. One's words

fail, his understanding is halted, his emotions are stirred beyond control when contemplating these thousands of beloved dead. I find a hundred thousand sorrows touching my heart, and there is ringing in my ears, like an admonition eternal, an insistent call, "It must not be again! It must not be again!"

As a' first step in response to that "insistent call," President Harding on July 10, 1921, formally announced that he had invited "the group of powers heretofore known as the principal allied and associate powers," Great Britain, France, Italy and Japan, to meet in conference at Washington to consider the question of the limitation of armaments. Several other interested powers were invited to do likewise. The invitations were accepted.

November 11th, the day preceding the formal opening of the conference, was devoted to the solemn obsequies at Arlington National Cemetery of an American soldier who, in the red whirlwind of the World War, had given his life and lost his name in the service of his country. With the reflections suggested by this sacred ceremonial in the minds of all, President Harding in a brief speech opened the conference. He was followed by the Secretary of State, Charles E. Hughes, in an address that surprised the world. Mr. Hughes proposed that a number of battleships belonging to the nations represented in the conference should be destroyed and that for a period of ten years no more war vessels should be built.

The conference continued for twelve weeks. Not only did it accomplish all that was proposed at the outset, the "scrapping" of warships, the "naval holiday," and the settlement of questions affecting the Far East, but it outlawed poison gas and the use of submarines against merchant and passenger vessels in time of war.

The results were applauded throughout the civilized world as an achievement in the interest of an enduring peace unsurpassed in the annals of diplomacy.

The public addresses of President Harding were invariably well-timed and appropriate to the occasion. Three of these have been published in full in the QUARTERLY. The first was delivered at Spiegel Grove State Park, October 4, 1920, the nine-eighth anniversary of the birth of Rutherford B. Hayes. Two years later on the occasion of the Hayes Centenary he wrote a letter which was read and published. Both speech and letter were tributes to the character and achievements of President Hayes. On April 27, 1922, he delivered an eloquent and thoughtful address at Point Pleasant where one hundred years before the military chieftain and "silent man of destiny," Ulysses S. Grant was born.

July 4, 1922, will be a memorable date not only in the annals of the city of Marion but in the history of Ohio. That was the homecoming day of the celebration of the one hundredth anniversary of the founding of the city. Many will recall the speech of President Harding and some may read it again with poignant appreciation. How glad he seemed to get back to the "home town" and how happy he evidently was in the prospect of a return when the duties and trials of office were at an end. With what sincerity and fervor he said:

If there is anybody in Marion that feels that I have slighted him, he must understand it just isn't possible to greet every one. I would love to have the personal touch with all of you, just as much as anybody in Marion. I wish I could stay a little longer. I will welcome the day when I can come back to stay with you permanently.

All who heard him will recall the earnest emphasis with which he expressed the desire to come home and

remain permanently and the cordial applause with which it was greeted.

But it was not to be his privilege to return and spend the remainder of his days among the scenes of his youth and in association with old time friends and neighbors. That yearning so natural to us all, when tasks and responsibilities are heavy and life's shadows fall from the west, was not to be gratified.

He journeyed to far away Alaska and on his return was stricken with illness in San Francisco. He seemed to be emerging from the attack and on the evening of August 2 was listening to the reading by his good wife of an appreciation of his administration in a well-known periodical. He evidently enjoyed this, for he said: "That's good. Go on. Read some more." These were his last words and in the city of the Golden Gate, without a struggle or a sign of pain, he entered upon the Life Eternal.

No attempt will be made to describe the funeral obsequies of President Harding which extended from coast to coast and literally numbered mourners through the entire length of the Nation. One writer has truthfully said that when San Francisco bàde its last sad farewell "to all that was mortal of the greatly loved President, there began a funeral pilgrimage from sea to sea that has never been equalled in sustained solemnity in this or any other country.'

As the funeral train moved across the continent the people from city, village and farm came forth to pay by their silent presence as it passed their tribute to a chief executive who had come remarkably close to the hearts of all. At many places the crowds were so immense that the progress of the funeral train was

impeded and by special direction of Mrs. Harding it moved with remarkable slowness that none of the mourners might be injured.

The train passed through his native state where the manifestations of grief were especially marked. On it moved to Washington, the capital that he had left a few weeks before in apparently good health and joyous anticipation of the great journey before him. Here occurred on August 8 the great official tribute to the President. There was an imposing military display with General Pershing, the great commander in the World War, at the head. The officials of the government, members of the cabinet, the new President, Calvin Coolidge, and former President Woodrow Wilson, were in the line of mourners. Military bands played sacred airs and requiems for the departed. The representatives of other nations added their tributes where the dead President lay in the rotunda of the National Capitol.

On August 9 the funeral train moved again into the native state of the departed chief; back to his home town of Marion where he had hoped to spend his last days in association with old friends after the close of his official career. Here on the day following his body was borne from the home of his father, Dr. George T. Harding, to its final rest. Cabinet officers and the new President were here to pay their final tribute of respect but all display by the special request of Mrs. Harding was omitted. The people came in great silent crowds from many sections of the state. Some one remarked that it was the old-time funeral, when acquaintances and neighbors came forth to manifest their sympathy, multiplied by at least one thousand. It was estimated that