f his time. His strong suit
was his unruffled composure and cool self-control. "Mr. Petway," says
he, "you would lose your money, and I won't take advantage of any man's
ignorance. Besides, I never gamble on a certainty. Gen. Franklin Pierce,
sir, is a son of Gen. Benjamin Pierce of Revolutionary memory. He served
in both houses of Congress, sir--refused a seat in Polk's Cabinet,
sir--won distinction in the Mexican War, sir. He has been from the first
my choice, and I've money to bet on his election."

Franklin Pierce had an only son, named Benny, after his grandfather, the
Revolutionary hero. He was of my own age. I was planning the good time
we were going to have in the White House when tidings came that he had
been killed in a railway accident. It was a grievous blow, from which
the stricken mother never recovered. One of the most vivid memories and
altogether the saddest episode of my childhood is that a few weeks later
I was carried up to the Executive Mansion, which, all formality and
marble, seemed cold enough for a mausoleum, where a lady in black took
me in her arms and convulsively held me there, weeping as if her heart
would break.

V

Sometimes a fancy, rather vague, comes to me of seeing the soldiers
go off to the Mexican War and of making flags striped with pokeberry
juice--somehow the name of the fruit was mingled with that of the
President--though a visit quite a year before to The Hermitage,
which adjoined the farm of an uncle, to see General Jackson is still
uneffaced.

I remember it vividly. The old hero dandled me in his arms, saying "So
this is Harvey's boy," I looking the while in vain for the "hickory," of
which I had heard so much.

On the personal side history owes General Jackson reparation. His
personality needs indeed complete reconstruction in the popular mind,
which misconceives him a rough frontiersman having few or none of the
social graces. In point of fact he came into the world a gentleman, a
leader, a knight-errant who captivated women and dominated men.

I shared when a young man the common belief about him. But there is
ample proof of the error of this. From middle age, though he ever liked
a horse race, he was a regular if not a devout churchman. He did not
swear at all, "by the Eternal" or any other oath. When he reached New
Orleans in 1814 to take command of the army, Governor Claiborne gave him
a dinner; and after he had gone Mrs. Claiborne, who knew European courts