The herald., 1895-12-29


the Old Romans kindly face, the little
talk which took place between Walter
Scott and Washington Irving when the
latter was about to take his departure
from Abbotsford, where he had been
the guest of the author of "Waverly"
for several days.
Irving had extended his hand and
was saying something about his regret
and his fears that he might not again
have the pleasure of such visit, when
Scott checked him with this: 81 will
not say goodby, for that is word
that makes me sad. But L will say
come again and enjoy my hospitality"
And so they parted.
mans presence that the old
statesman did not make the visitor feel
that they would meet again. After the
death of his wife, bis "sweetheart," as
he always called her, he made his
home with his son, Allen w., and hia
wife and daughter. The houses OF
father and son were contiguous, Or
nearly 80. And there, daily, for two
years, except when his health would
not permit Of it, this specimen of true
American manhood, in simplicity and
kindness, received friends and al
mirers, among whom often were men
of both political parties. The Ohio
legislature honored him with its call;
men of note and travel went out OF
their way to pay him homage. In re-
spect of universal custom he more
nearly resembled Gladstone than any
man who has lived in this country.
The unspotted life, the lofty integrity,
the unimpeachable honesty in his Ca
reer, even when he was in the midst of
its stormiest periods, were crowned,
and the spear of the opposition never
at any time was pointed toward him.
The writer of this sketch for the
Chronicle was in Columbus year ago.
Having finished his business, he called
upon Judge Thurman. No formslity
or conventionality preceded the call.
The visit was brief. The Old Roman
sat in a great chair in familiar atti-
tude. His cane rested against the chair
The red bandana lay over one knee. A
French novel was spread out on one of
his legs and pair of spectacles was in
one hand. II am glad to meet you, my
son." he said, "as am glad to meet
any countryman of mine. l am passing
my time as you see me now. l hear
with interest of daily events, but AN
removed from participation in them,
as you must know. The only trouble
I am, so far as / know, to anybody is
that I won't 20 to bed when they want
me to 60. 1 prefer to sit here and read
and smoke just as used to do when
my dear wife Mary was living. She
used to have to come in and take the
book away from me to get me to bed,
the dear, good soul. Will you have
pinch of snuff? Was there anything in
particular about which you wanted to
ask me?"
The caller had not gone to see the
ton of asking him any other than
questions of courtesy incident to
casual call. But after Mr.. Thurman
had put it in the way so it world not
be offensive he was asked where and
how he had found time in his busy life
to study French.
"a little child taught me to speak
French" was the reply of this man
whose words listening senates had
heard and whose decisions have come
to be a part of the law of the land.
And the story as he told 1T, which
memory unfortunately fails to revive,
was this
When his family first moved to Ohio
there came to Chillicothe fine old
French gentleman and his little daugh-
ter. They were eXiles from Europe
and had drifted to the new west. The
little girl was about the same age as
young Thurman. She did not know
word of English or he word of French,
yet they became close companions
from the st.rt, inventing their own
language, as children will in such cases.
The mother observed that little Vir-
ginie Gregoire, the French girl, spoke
her own language with remarkable
purity-her father was highly educa-
ted man-and SO she was made an in
mate of the family and taught Allen
her language. Though he had little oc.
casion to speak it, he maintained his
knowledge of the printed speech, and
his greatest delight in the literary line
was the perusal of French novels in
the original. 1t can be added that life
in America did not prove success to
M. Gregorie, that the daughter in time
went elsewhere, and that the prosaic
addition is made that the old French
man taught MIR. Thurman to use snuff.
That is where he got his start in
French, and to that incident he owed
many pleasant hours in his old age.
The works of Moliere were as familiar
to him as those of Fennimore Cooper
and Washington Irving. Friends found
him as ready to discuss the latest novel
as the politics of the day.
The nature of the call and the condi-
ton of the host did not warrant fur
Their intrusion. TIE caller extended
his hand accom- panied with the express
sions of gratitude for the privilege ne
had enjoyed.
80, never mind that" said the great
man, great even in the sunset of his
life; "you are always welcome; friends
are always welcome, and the door is
always open. You will come here
again, some time, and you'll tind me
right here"
That WAS in 1894. There had been a
cruel whisper, the only cruel one that
was ever started about him, that he WAS
in his dotage; that he was tottering
"upstairs," and that he did not know
anyone but his family. There never
was word of truth in the story. To
quote a prominent citizen who had
heard the came story, and who had
called with some misgivings, "There
was only a lull in the volcano"
1t would not be necessary in sketch
like this to follow chronology consecu-