easy to strike at him through this unfortunate episode. There did not
live a more implacable and unforgiving man, when his wife was
slandered, than Andrew Jackson.

Dickinson, who was a political rival, spoke slurringly of Mrs. Jackson.
He apologized for it on the plea that he had been in his cups at the
time, but Jackson never forgave him. A political difference as an
ostensible cause of quarrel soon developed. Dickinson sent a challenge
which was gladly accepted. The resulting duel was probably the most
dramatic that ever occurred in the United States. Dickinson was a dead
shot. So, for that matter, was Jackson, but Dickinson was remarkable
for the quickness of his fire, while Jackson was slower. The
arrangements stipulated that the combatants should be placed at the
close distance of eight paces; that the word "fire!" should be given,
after which each was to fire one shot at will. Rather than be hurried
and have his aim disturbed, Jackson determined to sustain Dickinson's
fire and then return it at his leisure.

{250}

"What if he kills you or disables you?" asked his second.

"Sir," replied Jackson deliberately, "I shall kill him though he should
hit me in the brain!"

This is no gasconade or bravado, but simply an evidence of an intensity
of purpose, of which no man ever had a greater supply than Andrew
Jackson.

Dickinson fired instantly the word was given. A fleck of dust arose
from the loose coat which covered the spare form of the General, but he
stood apparently untouched. Dickinson, amazed, shrank back from the
peg indicating his position. Old General Overton, Jackson's second,
raised his pistol.

"Back to the mark, sir!" he thundered, as the unhappy young man
exclaimed in dismay.

"Great God! Have I missed him?"

Dickinson recovered himself immediately, stepped back to the mark, and
folded his arms to receive Jackson's fire. The hammer of the
Tennesseean's pistol stopped at half-cock. He deliberately re-cocked
his weapon, took careful aim again, and shot Dickinson through the
body. Seeing his enemy fall, Jackson turned and walked away. It was
not until he had gone one hundred yards from the duelling ground and
was hidden by the thick poplar trees, that his second noticed that one
of his shoes was filled with blood. Dickinson had hit the General in
the breast, inflicting a severe wound, and might have killed him had
not the bullet glanced on a rib. The iron-nerved Jackson declar