Seldom have more significant words been uttered than those of John
Randolph of Roanoke, when told that a certain man had been denouncing
him. "Denouncing me," replied Randolph, with astonishment, "that is
strange, _I never did him a favor."_
The voice of but one John Randolph of Roanoke has mingled in the
contentions of the Great Hall. That was no cause for regret, as
for a lifetime he was the dread of political foes and friends alike.
A colleague from "the valley" probably remembered him well to
the last. That colleague, recently elected to fill a vacancy caused
by the death of a member of long service, signalized his entrance into
the House by an unprovoked attack upon Mr. Randolph. The latter, from
his seat near by, listened with apparent unconcern to the fierce
personal assault. To the surprise of all, no immediate reply
was made to the speech, and the new member flattered himself, no
doubt, that the "grim sage" was for once completely unhorsed.
A few days later, however, Randolph, while discussing a bill of
local importance, casually remarked: "This bill, Mr. Speaker, lost
its ablest advocate in the death of my lamented colleague, _whose seat
is still vacant!"_