Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1883-07-25
THE YOUTHFUL GIANT OF
GREYsrONE.
Another BeIieVerWhO Has Made
the Return "Trip TO the Dem.
Oeratic Mecca.
Burdette in the Burllpgton Hawkeye.

Burdette in the Burlington Hawkeye.
own that as | rang the bell at
Greystone | felt some computations Of
conscience at thus disturbing the rest
OF a dying old man, but as l had come
all the way to New York on business
connected with the Exposition !
could not 60 away without bidding the
venerable statesman laying at deaths
door last farewell. Judge of my
surprise, then, when Mr.. Tilden him
self opened the door to answer my
timid ring. looked at him in speech
less amRzement as he stood before me
physical and intellectual giant, nor
did | recover my self possession until,
in thunderous shout that started the
sparrows in the park, he roared:
Henry, old boy, how does she boom2"
At the same time slapping his brawny
hand on my shoulder with such force
that the clavicle was fractured and
the scapula split from the caracoid
process to the inferior angle. Rudy
With the glow Of perfect health were
his round cheeks, and when he
laughed | saw that he had not an un-
sound tooth in his head. We talked
OF everything in the world except
politics. He wrote beautiful
little Greek poem, while he chatted
about the dogs of Hymettus and the
horses Of Diogenes and Uhiron, the
Soenter, and other classical subjects.
We went over the house, which is bes
ing newly kalsomined, from garrett to
cellar, the lavish outlay of money be-
ing guided by the most iaultless taste
in the mixing of the kalsomine. The
house is nine stories high, and when |
grew weary on the fourth floor Mr..
rilden took me in his arms and car
ried me the rest of the distance, as
though had been baby. 1t is a
playful way the old giant has of firing
out his visitors.
His hair is long, curling and raven
black, and there is not wrinkle in
his face, not furrow on his brow. He
is passlonately fond of bicycling, and
rides as far as fifteen miles day. His
favorite bicycle he keeps in a room
adjoining his own and feeds it with
his hands. He sings superbly and
has childish way Of running to the
piano to dash off some sparkling little
imprOvisations as interludes to the
conversation. As | looked at him |
could not help saying:
Mr.. Tilden, you bear your age res
markably well; can it be possible that
yon are really forty-one?"
He shook his head with semi
mourntul infection, and said:
"Ah, my dear boy, time is relentless.
| shall be torty-Gight years old next
December"
Had | not received the assurance
from his own lips, l could not have
believed it.
When l left him he insisted on
shouldering my trunk and carrying it
to the station. AS pressed his hand
at parting | said to him:
Mr.. Tilden, if the next Democratic
National Convention should follow its
own wishes and the earnest desire Of
the American people, and nominate
you for President, would you accept
the nomination."
He squeezed my hand in his mighty
grasp until the blood oozed out under
my finger nails, and shouted:
Would II"
Then he slapped his hands together
like clap Of thunder, and sprung
straight up into the air. | watched
his vanishing form as it disappeared
behind the clonds without a fear,
knowing well that the athlete would
come down at Greystone. And as his
figure passed out Of sight voice fell
like falling star:
Would duck swim?"