The Republican. [volume] (Maryville, Tenn.) 187?-187?, 1874-05-02
NUMBER I.

DlcklnsOn t0ttered and fell into the
arms of his friend. He died the same
night. Jackson was able to mount his
horse and ride home next day-barely
able, for the bullet, which seemed to
miss him, had really passed through
the feshy part Of his breast and
cut the breast-bone. His shoes
were full OF blood when he walked
from the fatal field, but he con-
csaled the fact, as he said, "because
he did not want Dickinson to have
the satisfaction Of knowing that he had
hit him at ALL" In answer TO the ques-
tion how he could, after receiving such
shock, retain his steadiness OF nerve,
he replied 81 believe / should have
killed him had he shot me through the
BRAIN" The wound never healed pro-
perly, was the occasion of frequent
hemorrhages in later years, and ultima
tely caused his death. There is no evi-
dence going to show that Jackson ever
repented Of this duel. Long afterwards
indeed, only few weeks before he
died-a friend visiting his sick cham
Der happened to pick up an old pistol
lying on the mantel. The keen-eyed
invalid saw the movement, and remarked
quietly: "That is the pistol with which
/ killed Mr.. Dickinson" In spite OF
his conversion and consistent fellowship
with the church, there was deal of the
"cld Adam" remaining in "Old Hick-
ory" TO the last.
Those who saw Mrs. jackson In her
youth say that at that period she was q
plump and quite pretty brunette. But
in middle age the plumpness increased
until all signs of waist had disappear
ed, and the dark complexion became
still darker, until il was almost the tint
OF venerable mahogaty. In plain words
she was a short, fat, and remarkably
common looking old woman, lingrace-
full, of course, and not at all versed in
the ways of polite society Her hus-
band, on The contrary, though square
aud angular in figure, and quite as des-
titute of culture as his vile, was con-
fesgedly one of the most elegant gentle
men of his day. His public life, par
ticularly after the battle of New Or
leans, brought him into close conmuni-
cation with the gay world, and mis- man
ners contributed as much as his fame to
make him the centre of every circle in
which lie mingled. But neither the
sweet smiles or the sweeter words of
the beauties who crowded around him
ever made him for au instant forget
much less prove false to--the mistress
of his soul. Even his most intimate
friends could not discover by any word
or act on his part that he was conscious
of his wife's physical disadvantages and
lack of what is called good breeding.
To him she was not old or ugly, not i9a
norant or awkward-but always young,
always handsome, always the embodi-
ment of brightness and of grace. No
knight that ever laid lance In rest was
more devoted to the fair lady whose
colors he wore, than was Jackson to the
ancient dame who bore his name. She
was the only human being who could
stem the torrent of his fearful passion.
A word from her lips, glance from her
eye, and the iron man, blazing with
wrath and apparently as untamable as
the lion of the jungles, became as tame
as LAM. He loved her from the very
depths of his stony nature, and because
he loved her she could transform the
storm into a calm. One might infer
from the extent of this influence over
such a character, that Mrs. Jackson was,
what We now term, "a strong minded
woman" But she was far removed
from that questionable honor. The late
Thomas Ii. Benton, in book which is
a much better monument to his memo
ry than the bronze abortion in Lafayette
park, gives q charming picture Of
"Aunt hoohel," as he affectionately
calls her. In this sketch, drawn by
loving hand, she is represented as an
extremely modest and unassuming per-
| son. who never lost her native simplici-
tv of thought and action in attempting
to keep pace with the rising fortunes OF
her husband. When the most brilliant
triumph of the war had lifted him high
above all competitors, and when that
triumph had been supplemented by his
election TO the first Office in the gift OF
his countrymen, she was the same ami
able, sensible, unaffected woman as
when they lived together in log cabin
and had nothing to distinguish them
from their humblest reighbors. To her
he was never "the general" but always
"Mr. Jackson !" and she valued his
wonderful success in life for the pleas
ure it gave him, and not for the glory
reflected upon her. A sincere and ar
dent Christion, fond wife, true
friend, constant and liberal benefactor
of the poor, she faithfully discharged
her duties TO God and man, and found
therein her highest happiness. All
who knew her loved "Aunt Rachel" as
such women, from their rarity, deserve
to be loved; and when she died there
was mourning, not only in the stately
Hermitage" but in every negro hut
for miles around.
jackson, as we have remarked, never
entirely rallied from the blow which
his wife's death inflicted. He went to
the White House in many respects
changed man. He laid aside, to great
extent, those tremendous oatbs which
used tc make the air of Tennessee turn
blue; he grew softer, tenderer, more
ready to forgive than in former years,
and was-for her sake-the firm and in
domitable champion of all slandere1
women. He broke up his cabinet in
sustaining Mrs. Eaton-though there
was probably more truth than SANDER in
her case-and would never listen to or
countenauce any of that sorcalled "gos-
sip" which delights in insinuations
against female virtue. Because his
wife was pure, he believed--and was
proud to believe-all her sex was
as pure as she. He wore next
his heart an old-fashioned miniature of
his lost darling, and each night before
retiring he laid it on the table beside
the bed, so that he might look at it
while reading chapter in her Bible.
| Their ashes repose side by side, and if
there be such a thing as reunion be-
| Yond the confines OF the tomb. surely