nt has not been
duplicated since that day. Andrew Jackson, "Old Hickory," was probably
the most popular man in the country when the time came for naming the
successor of Monroe. It may sound strange, but it is a fact, that when
the project of running him for the presidency was first mentioned to
Jackson, he was displeased. It had never entered his head to covet that
exalted office.

"Don't think of it," he said; "I haven't the first qualification; I am a
rough, plain man, fitted perhaps to lead soldiers and fight the enemies
of our country, but as for the presidency, the idea is too absurd to be
held."

But what American cannot be convinced that he is pre-eminently fitted
for the office? It did not take long for the ambition to be kindled in
the breast of the doughty hero. His friends flattered him into the
conviction that he was the man of all others to assume the duties, and
the "bee buzzed" as loudly in Jackson's bonnet as it ever has in that of
any of his successors.

ANDREW JACKSON'S POPULARITY.

It cannot be denied that "Old Hickory" was a great man, and though he
was deficient in education, lacking in statesmanship, and obstinate to
the last degree, he was the possessor of those rugged virtues which
invariably command respect. He was honest, clean in his private life, a
stanch friend, an unrelenting enemy, and an intense patriot--one who was
ready to risk his life at any hour for his country. In addition, he
never knew the meaning of personal fear. No braver person ever lived.
When the sheriff in a court-room was afraid to attempt to arrest a
notorious desperado, Jackson leaped over the chairs, seized the ruffian
by the throat, hurled him to the floor, and cowed him into submission.
When a piece of treachery was discovered on a Kentucky racecourse,
Jackson faced a mob of a thousand infuriated men, ruled off the
dishonest official, and carried his point. He challenged the most noted
duelist of the southwest, because he dared to cast a slur upon Jackson's
wife. It mattered not that the scoundrel had never failed to kill his
man, and that all of Jackson's friends warned him that it was certain
death to meet the dead-shot. At the exchange of shots, Jackson was
frightfully wounded, but he stood as rigid as iron, and sent a bullet
through the body of his enemy, whom he did not let know he was himself
wounded until the other breathed his last.

Above all, had not "Old Hickory" won the battle of New Orleans, the