About The sunny South. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1875-1907 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 19, 1887)
VOLUME XIII.—NUMBER 627. PRICE: $2.00 A TEAR IN ADVANCE. . - - -—r~—- ■- — — — ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY MOANING, NOVEMBER 19, 1887. U] 'Shaking Across the Bloody Chasm. Gen. Henry R. Jackson andi “the Old Red Hills of Georgia.” All Georgians will rebuke the recent ill-tem pered and wholly unjust strictures of the Hon. Allen G. Thurman, of Ohio, upon one of Geor gia’s most gallant and most distinguished sons, the Hon. Henry R. Jackson. He is one of our most cultured citizens, and wears laurels nobly won in the fields of literature, law and military strife. The following gem from his pen, writ ten years ago, illustrates his devotion to Georgia. So bold, and Eire, and bleak- 'Thelr memory li Is my spirit With thoughts I cannot soeak. Th ‘V have no robe of verdure. Stripe naked to tbe blast; And yet of all tbe varied earth 1 love them best at last. "The red old bills of Georgia! My heart Is on tbeui now; Where, fed from golden streamlets, O^oo.e’s waters flaw! I l-.ve them with devotion, Ttuuitb wasbed so bleak and bare;— Ho-v can my snlrlt e’er fo g-c T ie warm hearts dwelling there? I lo.etbem for the living,— Tne generous kind, and gay; An.i for tbe dead who slumber within tbelr breast of clay. 1 love them for tbe bounty Which cheers tbe social bearth; I love them for tbelr rosv girls, Tbe fairest on tbe earth. The red old bills of Georgia! Where, where, upon tbe face -Of earh Is freedom’s spirit M ire bright In any race?— In S-vl'zerland and Scotland E ich patriot breast II fills, B it sore It blazes brighter vet Among our Geo gla bills! And where, upon their surface, Is heart to feeling dead?— And when has needy stranger Gone from those bills unfed? There bravery and kindness Kor aye go nand In band, U pon your washed and naked hills, “My own, my native land!” JEFFERSON DAYIS. The Venerable Statesman as He Appears at Home. BEAUTIES OF BIS BEAUVOIR RETREAT. A THRILLING STORY. Sow Gen. Gordon Cared for a Union General. An Incident of the Late War, Which Shows What Sturf Our Gallant Cordon Is Made Of. [Cincinnati Enquirer.] The coming of Governor John B. Gordon, of Georgia, to this city, was yesterday the subject of conversation in a party of gentlemen, one of whom was United States District Attorney Burnet. When the subject was brought up one gentleman paid a glowing tribute to tbe Governor, and this recalled au incident which occurred several years ago at a banquet given at a fashionable hotel in New York city. Mr. Burnet relates the story, which iB here given— and which certainly is a beautiful one—one of the many touching things connected with the soldier-life of many a man who answered when hie country called. Governor Gorden and his wife were visiting in New York at the time re ferred to, and were at the banquet. Directly opposite them at tbe table sat, with his wife, Gen Francis P. Barlow, for years prominent in Republican politics in New York Stale, and during tbe war a gallant soldier and a fearless man. Both gentlemen were honor ed guests and sat near the head of the princi pal table. Governor Gordon responded to a toast in his very choice manner, and soon afterward it -came the turn of General Barlow. In lieu of An address the General, in the most feeling manner, related his experience at the great battle of Gettysburg At that battle be lost one limb and another was terribly shattered. For months he lay as one dead. Scarcely had he fallen, bleeding from numerous wounds, than a Confederate General was over him, looking kindly and anxiously down in his face. •**A Confederate s-ldier had told his superior ofiller that a Union General lay murdered upon the field," said Mr. Burnet, “and the Confed erate General had looked him up. Tenderly the Confederate General raised the head of Gen- era! Barlow to his lap and poured some water -down bis throat, which was almost parched Then be despatched an attendant for a sur geon, whom ue detailed esptciaily to Gen. Bar- low and g»ve orders that he should be shown every attention and all respect due to his rank as au officer. Gan. Barlow spoke freely of the treatment of tbe Confederate General, and as he recalled these scenes aud trials the tears rushed to his eyes and there was not one about that festal board but was affected."' The surgeon gave it as his opinion that Gen eral Barlow would die, and the Confederate officer asked if anything more could be done General Barlow bad received a letter from bis wife just te’ore the battle opened, and told the Confederate officer of it. The officer searched Gen. Barlow’s pockets and found the letter. There on the field, with hundreds of dead strewn about him, he read the letter. Tneu he had Gen. Barlow removed to his own quarters and he was called away, “A s range thing happened, too.” aided Mr. Bnrnett. “General Barlow’s wife had come to see him. He knew nothing of it, and she in some manner was also made a prisoner. This Confederate General learned ot her capture, and gave her the most manly treatment, himself passing her through the lines, ‘ft is one of the unfortunate affairs •of war times,’General Ba>low said, remaiktd Mr. Burnet, ‘that he Ltver sga.n met that officer.’ ’’ No person had been paying any attention to Governor Gordon duiing the reciial of this thrilling story. As General Barlow proceeded, however, tbe Givernor’s face lighted up with a strange expression. No sooned nad General Barlow fi- iahed tba:i Msj >r Gordon, a brother of the Governor, who was prtsenr, shouted : “It was my brother ! It was my brother 1” Then all eyes were bent upon the Governor. One keen, arxous look passed from one to the other of the two great men, then there was a giad shout of recognition, aud passing around tbe table, both Governor Gordon and General Bar ow were wrapped in each other's arms. The tears streamed down their cheeks, while the gnests, all veterans, fairly went wi,d. From that time until Governor Gordon’s visit At New York ended he was tbe lion of the hour, toasted aud feasted on all sides. Here, in the summer of 1835, Captain Jeffer son Davis, a retired army officer, put the ax to the root of the tree, and carved out of the wil low forest and canebrake, a home. That home has since become famous as the residence of Colonel Davis, of Mexican war fame, Of Senator Davis, Of Secretary, of-war Davis, and Of President Jefferson Davis. Here, again, after having experienced the full bouyancy of youth, after having drank of politics and public affairs to their brim, Jef ferson Davis returns, a peaceful old man, en joying his books and flowers, and cheered by the companionship of those who through a life time have never failed in their sympathy nor lessened their support. Within the Cates. In front of a high gate, which was painted white and elaborately fringed with green, set back about two hundred feet, and almost hid den by the dense foliage of live oaks, cedars and cypress, stands an old fashioned mansion, stately in its whiteness. Tbe main part of the building is reached by a wide flight of steps, which lead up to the great gallery,running com pletely around the house. Leading up to th6 steps is a shelled walk, and circling around to the right and left is the carriage drive, lined with the stateliest of trees and stands of potted flowers. At a distance on either side stands two pavilions. The one on the right was, in her lifetime, the library and studyroom of Mrs. Dorsey, the lady to whose generosity Mr. Davis is indebted for this beautiful retreat, It is now used as a visitors’ apartment. Its walls, if they could but speak, would tell of many brave men who had stood in the trenches in days of blood and who came here to honor the great chief in his retirement. Tbe pavilion to the left is occupied by Mr. Davis as a library and study room. Its walls are a solid mass of books, the titles of which show the variety and extent of Mr. Davis’s reading. The shelves are reach ed by an iron staircase, which circles around the room. In the center stands a solid ma hogany table, upon which is seen a substan tial inkstand, in which the pen stood dipped. Under a paper cover was a letter addressed, but not finished, and scattered around were the letters of several days. It is thus that Mr. Davis had left his room on the day before. Not a paper is ever touched or arranged by the servant—every article is invariably left exactly as the owner left it—such being his in variable instruction. Passing up the front steps of the mausiou, your correspondent turned aud look ed through the grove where the gulf, backed against whose waters the varying shades of forest green presented a picture which well might challenge the brush of / pointer or the lyre of poet. On the Threshold. To one side upon the gallery stood a large arm chair, in which the ex-president doubtless often reclines while he looks well into the fu ture as a relief from the painful aud yet not al together udpieasant past. A little further on was a hammock aud scattered about were many chairs, evidently just as the party of the even ing before had lett them. The doors of tbe house all Btood open, and as your correspond ent hesitated a moment awaiting the answer to his call, he took a hurried observation of ihe scene. The walls of the ball were covered wiih pictures and bric-a-brac—curicus little things gathered from many lands, and relics from pla ces reL dared famous by war or genius of au thor. Among the pictures one of the most striking was that of General Joe Davis, tbe oldest brother of the ex president. Tbe first room to the left was the parlor, and to the rear, cut off by heavy curtains, the library. Numerous li.tle tables, whai-nots, sideboards, etc., supported relics of interest or objects of art. A large oil painting of Mr. Davis’s only grown son, who died of yellow fever in Mem phis, in 1878, hung upon one of the walls. Ovi r the mantelpiece was a small water color of Mr. Davis himself as be appeared in 1862, when president of the confederate states. Tail, erect, of elegant manners, and dressed in a well fitting suit of confederate gray, he was then a man who could have been looked on with pride. Standing upon the marble front of a long mirror was a beautiful sculptured bust— the only shadow left of Mr. Davis’ little boy who died years ago. “You will," said Captain Hughes, “when you arrive at Brierfield, find Mr. Davis in the home of his youth, from which he went to fill offices of state and republic. When he return ed from the army, he bought Brierfield, then a forest, in order to be adjoining his brother Joe, who owned the Hurricane. You will find there wateroaks, planted on the day when Mr. Davis first brought home his bride, the shade of whose limbs now cover half an acre. You will find a muie, called Old Stump, which has worked in the field there ever since 1849, and which is now over thiriy nine years of age. You will find the place full of reminiscences which will interest you. As to Mr. Davis Himself. “What about Mr. Davis, personally?” “He is in the finest health imaginable. I am the manager of his plantations, aud bis busi ness partner in the firm of N E Hughes & Co., Mr. Davis being the company. As such 1 have the closest relations with him. When tbe war broke out, Brieifield was left in the hands of several overseers, and when tbe siege of Vicks burg threw this section into the hands of the federate, hundreds of vandals began raisack- ing the Listor.c home. Books and pipers were stolen without regard to their character Toe elaborate marble mantelpieces were broken into fragments for relics. Windowglass were broken, and, in fact, nothing but the shell was left. The house was then taken possession of by several iamilies of negroes who, in strange keeping wi .h the new order of things, changed the public road from the front to the rear of the house, so that when you go up there you will find the fronts thus reversed. This inci dent is an index to negro character, notwith standing they were in full possession They still loitered around the back door. Four ytars ago, at Mr. Divis’ solicitation, I assum ed charge of his plantations, and during the last spring I had the Brierfield mansion reno vated, and occupied it with my family. It was a p easant surprise to Mr. and Mrs. Davis, therefore, on their ar ival a couple of da) s since, when I brought them over to their o.d home, where they f jund their old chamber awaiting them just as it did on their periodica! returns from V\ ashington before the war. Mrs. Davis was delight* d and Mr. Davis sat upon the old front verandah, and far fully an hour locked upon the fami.iar scene." ‘ Did he see much to recall the past.” ‘•Tne same old trees waving their branches above bim, tbe same fami.iar sky, the same soft bretzes from the Mississippi, but other wise so sadly changed. When Mr. Davis was secretary of war, he had many exotic plants sent down to Brierfield, wnich were teDded with great care. Through the lawn in front ran many fleer, which were tame at his ap proach. All ef these evidences ot 'aste were goae. One thing which pained him much was the destruction of tbe original log house in which he spe-1 his first two or three years in the forest. He had bnilt the huuse with his own haDds. When the mansion was erect ed he still cherished a fondness for the old cabin, and expressed his wish that it should be allowed to stand until decayed by the for- OUR MR. DAVIS AT HIS ROYAL HOME IN MISSISSIPPI. ces of nature. Just before I assumed charge, some of tbe hands on tbe place tore the build ing down because they thought it unsightly, having no knowledge of its intrinsic worth to Mr. Davis. ‘ What about Mr. Davis’s daily life?" “He is a man of studious habits, at ihe same time devoted to the field. He ris-a about nine o’clock in the morning, reads his mail and an swers it, then devotes the rest of the day to receiving visitors, riding ov<jr ihe farm, and enj >ying the works of nature. He is a skillful euchre plater. When several neighbors dr>p in for the evening, Mr aud Mrs. Davis bota enter into the game with zest, and thus tne hours are whiled away. Mr. Davis and His Negroes. “Turning to me wistfully,” continued Cap tain Hughes, ‘ Mr. Dazis said: “ ‘Captain, it hardly looks like home with so many of the old faces gone. We must get them back.’ “Mr. Davis’s reference was to big old slaves, so many of whom went to Arkansas on ac count of last year’s floods. Mr. Davis had be tween four and five hundred slaves before the war. He was a kind master, and the slaves were tenderly attached lo him The old Christ mas holidays and barbecues, which ne used to give them are still atraauionin all this coun try, and wonderful stories of that day are re lated by the older to the younger negroes. Mr. Davis's first iistnic'i'rus to me on coming here was to set aside fi7e acres apiece for each of the faithful slaves wno had remaineo on tne p'antation, to have the ground broken for the crops every year, and to build on each a sub stantial home These inst-actions I uave com- p ted with, and thus >ou will see bow practi cal the president of the late confederacy ia in the treatment of the colored people. The heavy overflows of the last two years, howev er, sadly discou-aged the negroes, and many of them took boa s and went up to Arkaaaas They have been writing to Mr. Davis the last few weeks, begging him to bring them back, and it is highly probable that he will do so. Ooe characteristic of Mr. Dtvig’s negroes was the honesty with which he imbued them List year when Mr. Divis visited Brieifi-ld, old Aunt Fannie Cannagan, rushing up to mm, said: “ ‘Ma«’ Davis, I nebber axed Mis’ Hughes for anything ontwell I seed de bolls done o tc, an’ den, please God, I kuowed I’d be able to pay him.’ “Aunt Catmagan is a venerab'e o’d negress, whose descendants are numbered by the hun dred. It was principally among them that the exodus of last year occurred. When Aunt Cannagan was about stepping on the boat to leave with them, I said to her: “ ‘Aunt Cannagan, what shall I tell old master for you?’ “ ‘I lub him! I lub him!’ exc'aimed the ex cited old creature. ‘I pray for him ebery day dat I lives. But my chillun is a gwine, an’ ole granny must follow!’ 4 Aunt Cannsvan now lives on the planta tion of Co onel Neal, in J ff erson county, Ar kansas. and is having letters written even day to Mr. Davis, begging him to send for her. It is curious to observe the commotion wh.ch is created a nong the negroes here when I an nounce lo them the date of Mr. Da'is’s annu al visit Tot y look forward toil as a great eveut, cro*d upon ihe lauding af Ursitio, press aiouud him with exclamations of regard, fol low him out to h s home', seven miles distant, and take possession of the housd so that white people must stand as.da until the CO ored peo ple have all received a word of recognition, fue old in'an ei joys these marks of love, and is never tired extending to these dependent peop e words of sympathy or wholesome ad vice. Mr. Divis is seventy-eight years old, cheer ful, contented and hopeful. Mrs. Davis, the admirable wife ot a noole geuJemaa, is also happy in the love of her husband and the sym- mpithy which she r ceives from every man and woman in the south. They have two enudreu, the eldest Demg the wife of Mr Hayes, of Colorado, herself the mother of turee. Tne second, Miss Winnie Divis, is at home, and a source of comfoit and joy io her parents. Their home at Bdauvoir is a charm ing retreat, retired from the bust.e or the worlo, yet cheered by the visits of northern friends, soutnern sympathizes and confeder ate ve-eraus. Tueir home nere, Brierfield, is a lot g, single story white building, with wings ateiluerend in the shape of a duuole T, wi h verandahs Between supp-rted by heavy col umns, and pa-nted entirely in white. Tuere is a plantation of twenty-four hundred acres, the richest of Mississippi bottoms, from which Captain Hughes says 600 Dues of cotton viii be gathered this year. Mr. Davis generally visits this place twice a year to look alter h a interests. Wnether here or at Beauvoir, Mr. Davis is tq tally accessible to bis ueighbois, kind, gentle and e>uri*-ous, a king among men without assertion, a Cunstiau wiihout hypoc risy. a brave man, a true man, a man wuose name will grow tn brightness as the scenes with which he was c muected are cleared from the smoke of prejudice. He loves his G <d, his conn try, his people; he ii aitacned to his convictions, honest in his views, Christian in h : s judgments, and at all times maintains the diguity of a perfect man cast in the noblest m -uid. Note.—We are indebted for the foregoing graphic description of ex-President Davis and bis home to Mr. Paschal J Moran, who is one of the foremost newspaper men in the South, and who always signs himself Pea Jat. REB AND YANK, Reminiscences of the late War, A Re markable Letter. Bill Evers, who furnisLed the Joe Brown pike with collard stalk attachment, during the reution of veterans at the State Fair, Macon, Ga ,when eveybody got on a genera! jollification is likely to become famous. Withiu a fewdays he has received the following letter which ex plains itself: “Dayton, Ohio, October 31, 1887.—William Evers, Esq., East Macon, Ga.—On reading in a Cincinnati! paper an account of the high o.d time you just had in Macon, I came upon your name, and a description of how you were dress-d, and of a remark you made then, “I am willing to meet them half way,” when yon wanted one little flag left on your Joe Brown pike which you carried. “Good! I will meet you half way, for I be lieve irom that remark of yours that vou are the same kind of a ‘Johnnie Reb’ that I am a Yank,’ and that you and Xcoul l sit and ‘swap lies’ with each other just as easy as we used to trade‘ciff ie and tobacco’ about twenty-five years ago vithout getting mad. Wneu you would throw it up to me how you made me ‘get up aud dust’ at Ch ekamauga. I would hit you back by asking ‘What made you in such a hurry to get away from the top of Missionary Ridge?’ Tnere were lots of funny things that hap pened dur ng the war, and the old vets on boih sides like to get togeurer and talk about the old times, wnich I hope will never come agai i. I have had all tae fign , I wan' f ir about sev enty-five years. On August 28,h, 1864, at a place cal.ed U oy Greek, t tree miles north of Atlanta, one oi P ,t C-ebiiri-e’* men caused me to lo-e ny riihi arm because I wanted to take his old m -sket away. I wish I knew woo that min was, ae I would waik many miles to nut urn - nee more, and talk his ear ot telling ab up lust it-ie ck ruin-h Fjr the “B >ys in g ey." wno vent t > the fi-id aud tried to do me best tin y cm.Id to uphold their principles, 1 have toe greatest respect; for the devotion with which they stick to their cause, I favor them; but for the southern man who ran the blockade and went to Nassau and speculated in confederate bonds and cotton until the war was over, and then comes back aud wants your boys to vote him into a fat of fice. I have no use—and I don’t think yon have either. 1 belonged to the regular army when the war h*gan and served until October 28, 1864, ia the Fifteenth regiment of United States infantry; was a sergeant in comp iny F. second battal- fon, and attend all reuuionsof the “old regular brigade, fourteenth army corps army of the Cumberland," and love to see our old battle- lorn regimental flig S) you see I know just how you boys like to see yours; and don’t blame you a bit. We have not got many more years to have our fua, so we must take it when we can get it. Now, I have told you who I am and how I feel, tell me about yourseif, if you please. Where did you serve, how long, etc? Before 1 forget it, will you be kind enough to mail me a few of the badges that were worn at Mocon? I want to put them io my relic case. I have long wanted to get the first, the last, and battle flag of the confederacy, as well as one of your cedar caDteens, but have only a tin one. Toe fl igs I want, small; some four inch es will do. Can you get me any other of these relics, or any other except confederate money? If so, I will bay them of you. I wrote Miss Winnie Davis about two years ago at Beau voir, Miss., but she was at Richmond, Va., at the time, so her mother sent me a nice letter for a keepsake, wnich I think a great deal of. If I can perform any friendly service for you hire let me know what it is and I will do it with pleasure. I hope you can read my left- hand writii g and »i 1 send me some badges and other relics How would you like to see tbe piece that was p tolished in the Cincinnati paper about the reception at your place? Did yon ever trade pap-rs on the skirmish line? Now, “Johnnie Reb," I don’t know you, but would nke t>. I nave oeeu iu Macon four times since tn-* war, and if I come down again will bunt vou up. Hoping you and yours may prtsper, lam Your Yankee friend, C. W. Harrington. A Young Lady Land speculator. A year ago Miss Oiara Moore, of Cincinnati, went to Visit Tiecd* in Los Angeles, Cal. Sbe had a few hit dr id dollar* with her, which she invested iu So-uUtr.i California lands, and iD tbe bo iqi mat followed she soil and resold her property at a ne, gain of $125,000. Beauties and Celebrities. American Life Under Eigh teen Presidents. Prominent Statesmen and Brilliant Belles—Fashionable Sty es, Enter tainments, Anecdotes, Etc. A Noted Society Lady. Mrs. Julia C Wingate was a celebrity in the court society during Monroe’s administration. She was a daughter of General Henry Dear- bun, whose long life of seventy-eight years, filled with political services to his country, terminated in 1829. He was a distinguished Revolutionary officer, and served with honor at Bunker Hill, Ticonderoga, Monmouth, Yorktown and elsewhere. In 1801 he was appointed Secretary of War and served both terms of President Jefferson’s administration. In 1812 he received the appointment of Senior Major General of the American army. In 1812 he was sent as Minister to Portugal. During bis residence at the Portuguese capital, he and other foreign ministers were instrumental in saving the King aud his court irom a conspi racy of the Queen and her son Don Misuel. As an expression of his gratitude, the King conferred orders of distinction upon all the foreign ministers except General Dearborn, whom (he law of his country forbade to accept an); to him he presented his miniature, set with large solitaire diamonds. The wife of General Dearborn was remarks* l blv gifted and cultivated jn mind and person, j «na eminently fitted to fid her position. Un der the influence of such parents, their 3 daughter grew to womanhood. At eighteen I sne was married to General Wingate, whose i name is honorably identified wita the history of Maine. She accompanied him to Washing ton, where tney resided in General Dearborn’s family. The resources of Mrs. Wingate’s bril liant miao were here called forih, with the ex ercise of her extraordinary conversations! powers. Tnese, with her attractive person, uignified, though captivating manners aud ge uial disposition, rendered her society eagerly sought after. She was the ornament and pride of every circle in which she appeared. In Washington, at that time, society was represented by the best specimens of beauty, intelligence and refinement in the country. Mrs. Wingate’s cordial but unostentatious hos pitalities rendered her home attractive to the most gifted. She was an intima e friend of Mrs. Madison, and enjoyed the esteem of ail the distinguished personages at the seat of government. She was in Washington at the time of General LvFayette’s visit to this coun try. Oa the occasiou of his visit to Portland, General and Mrs Wingate gave him a brilliant morning reception. The following incident is recorded as illustra tive of this lady’s character: “In 1806, when party spirit was raging like pestilence, and the wuoie community was divided into Federals and Democrats, Mrs. Wingate, who was oae of the most beautiful women that Maine ever produced, was desir ous of giving a genial welcome to her numer ous acquaintances iu her new house. Caida were issued, tbe drawingrooms were filled, and ladies and gentlemen of both parties met face to face. But the elegant and fascinating hos tess was almost overwhelmed with anxiety and despair to observe that there was no con versation; there were no smiles and kind looks at each other. What could sbe do? bow couid she make her friends happy? A bright thought sprang from her warm heart. “ ‘Wingate,’ as she always called her hus band. ’send fir Terpsichore; let us have musio and dancing.'’ “It was uuue. The instruments struck up; hands and feet were soon in lively and grace- sul motion. Though few and short were the sentences exchanged, Federals and Democrats long remember that happy evening. “In the last year of her life she enjoyed, as ever, the society of her friends, aud the recol lections of the memoral time spent in Wash ington were clear and full of interest. She re membered particularly tbe visits of some French gentlemen at her father’s, in Maine, when- they remained several days, and min gled freely with the citizens of the town. Af ter their departure, no little surprise was cre ated by th9 announcement of her father that the strangers were Tallyraud and Louis Phil ippe, then traveling incog. “Pay as You Co.” Our annals probably contain- the record of few more conspicuous characters than that eccentric, yet gifted son of the Old Dominion, John Randolph of Roanoko. Randolph uad a great aoborrance of debt. On one occasion in Congress, he suddenly in terrupted himself ie - speech on some other subject, and exclaimed: “Mr. Speaker, i ..„, 0 discovered the philos- opher’s stone! it is this, sir: Pay ae you go! Pay as you go!" Io one of bis letters be says: “The muck worm whose mind knows no other work than money-getting, is an object of pity and con tempt. I hold it essential to purity, dignity and pride of character that every man’s ex penses should bear a due relation to his means and prospects in life.” One day, while he was speaking, the Speak er began privately to write a letter. Randolph perceived it, and stopped short in the middle of a sentence. The Speaker, presently aroused by the stillness, inquired whether the honora ble gentleman from Virginia bad finished his speech. “Mr. Speaker," returned Randolph, in his high fatsetto voice, and painting his long fore finger, “I was waiting until you had tiuished that letter.” “You Don’t Say that was Tom Jeffer son, do You?” About 1897, while on a visit to his home, the President accompanied two of his nephews on business to Charlottesville. He invited two or three gentleman of that place to dineat Monticello, and returned homeward, Mr. Jef ferson and the young men a little in advance. A shower had fallen and when they came to Moore’s creek, the water was up to the saddia girths. A Western countryman was sitting on the bank with a saddle in his hand. Ho waited till ail the party had entered the stream but Mr. Jefferson, and then asked him for a ride across. The President reined up to a stone, bade bim to mount, and carried him to the opposite bank. The party iu the rear in a few moments overtaking the pedestrian going on at a steady pace, asked him why he let the young men pass and asked the eider gentle man to carry him over. "Wall,” replied the Kentucky man, “if you want to know, I’ll tell you. 1 reckon a man carries yes or no in bis face. The young chaps’ faces said no; the old ’un’s said yes.” “It isn’t every man would have asked the President of the U uited States for a ride be hind him,” observed the other. “You don’t say that was Tom Jefferson, do you?” cried the Kentuckian, adding, “He’s a fine old fellow anyway.’’ Tnen he burst into a loud laugh, and said: “ What do you suppose my Polly will say when I get back to Boone county, and tell her I’ve rid behind Jef ferson? She’ll say I voted for the right man.” Christine Nilsson was prevented by illnea from being present at the funeral of Maunei Strakosch, but sne sent a lnsguittcent wreati bearing an inscription to “the never-to-be- or gotten friend (amt inouUiable) and reverent) master." This “illness" was a long and an noying deafness, caused by abseases in both ears, from which she has just recovered.
