ich brought happiness to both
of us and lasted nearly half a century, to the hour of his death, when,
going from Louisville to Cincinnati, I helped to lay him away in Spring
Grove Cemetery.

I had no thought of remaining in Cincinnati. My objective was Nashville,
where the young woman who was to become my wife, and whom I had not seen
for nearly two years, was living with her family. During the summer Mr.
Francisco, the business manager of the Evening Times, had a scheme to
buy the Toledo Commercial, in conjunction with Mr. Comly, of Columbus,
and to engage me as editor conjointly with Mr. Harrison Gray Otis as
publisher. It looked very good. Toledo threatened Cleveland and Detroit
as a lake port. But nothing could divert me. As soon as Parson Brownlow,
who was governor of Tennessee and making things lively for the returning
rebels, would allow, I was going to Nashville.

About the time the way was cleared my two pals, or bunkies, of the
Confederacy, Albert Roberts and George Purvis, friends from boyhood, put
in an appearance. They were on their way to the capital of Tennessee.
The father of Albert Roberts was chief owner of the Republican Banner,
an old and highly respectable newspaper, which had for nearly four
years lain in a state of suspension. Their plan now was to revive its
publication, Purvis to be business manager, and Albert and I to be
editors. We had no cash. Nobody on our side of the line had any cash.
But John Roberts owned a farm he could mortgage for money enough to
start us. What had I to say?

Less than a week later saw us back at home winnowing the town for
subscribers and advertising. We divided it into districts, each taking a
specified territory. The way we boys hustled was a sight to see. But the
way the community warmed to us was another. When the familiar headline,
The Republican Banner, made its appearance there was a popular
hallelujah, albeit there were five other dailies ahead of us. A year
later there was only one, and it was nowise a competitor.

Albert Roberts had left his girl, Edith Scott, the niece of Huxley, whom
I have before mentioned, in Montgomery, Alabama. Purvis' girl, Sophie
Searcy, was in Selma. Their hope was to have enough money by Christmas
each to pay a visit to those distant places. My girl was on the spot,
and we had resolved, money or no money, to be married without delay.
Before New Year's the three of us were wedded and comfortably settled,
with funds galore, for