Year: 1878

,&OLONEL John B. Brownlow, in
~ friendly letter to the editor of the Phila>
delphia Press. contributes tho following
rather apocryphal reminiscence of Andrew
Jackson We may remark, for instance,
that "Old Hickory" was hardly the man to
quote Latin phrase in backwoods cabin
The contribution is interesting, however, as
showing the class Of legends which is current
to this day in Tennessee aud which keep
there the memory of tho old hero fresh.


In tho days of our fathers there lived in
Virginia an old planter, Major Manley, who
was an oddity in his way. Some said he was
crazy, while others declared that only an iu>
ordinate love of fun gave rise to his quaint
doings. He might be called practical jo
ker, and it was said he never allowed any
stranger to come aud go withou. playing
upon him one or more of his Ridiculous
tricks.


One chilly, drizzly autumal evening a
horseman pulled up to the Majors door, and
requested hospitality for the night. He had
wandered from his way, aud it was now too
late to rectify his mistake. He was wsrm>
ly welcomed, and when his horse had been
taken in charge by competent servant, and
his snddle-bag removed, he was ushered into
the great living room where a cheeful FIRE





candles were lighted.


The Major was a large, strongly built man
of middle age, bald headed, rather red in the
face, and with an eye deeply set and twink
ling. The guest was also of middle age, tall
and spare, but compact and muscular, with
features of decided leonine cast, strongly
marked, heavy brows, and shock of thick,
crisp hair, that stood up on his large head
like the name of lion


Supper was announced, and after that the
evening passed on pleasantly. AS the clock
struck nine the host arose and excused him
self for few minutes. When he returned
he was accompanied by a negro, who carried
fiddle and bow, aud the Major himself had
large horse pistol in his hand.


"My dear friend" said the host with a
bow and a smile, 1--WE must not let the even
ing pass without a little amusement. From
your looks, know you can dance. l have
one of the best fddlers in the world; he
learned to play in New Orleans, where mu-
sic and dancing are cultivated. So, sir, you
will take your place upon tho floor, and
dance US reel. Let it be a Scotch reel
you look like Scotchman. Come-make
no delay. Strike up, Pomp."


The guest protested that he could not
dance. FL had not done such thing since
his boyhood. But Major Manley would not
take no for an answer. Ec did not make
many words. He cooked his pistol and swore
that he would shoot the guest if he did not
dance. The negro had. begun to tremble,
aud once or twice he seemed upon the point
of crying out, bat fear of his master with
held him.


The guest seemed to consider the matter.
He looked at the Major and at the pistol
The man might be really insane, though if
he was, there was much method in it. How.
ever, he was there alone-none to behold his
discomfture-and mayh hap, he thought, the
tables might ye. be turned.


"Come, come! Dance, or fire."


The guest arose aud stood in the middle of
the room, and there began to dance to the
negro's music, but the music was wretched-
go wretched that the Msjo. more than once
threatened to shoot the negro if he did not
play better.


The poor wayfarer danced until he was
fairly tired, and then stopped. The host was
upon the point of urging him on, when a
horses tramp was heard at the landing, and
presently servant put his head into the
room and called tho master out. Whether
be forgot what he was doing, or he cared not
to be seen outside with his pistol we can not
say, but he left it on the table when he went
out. AS soon as the door was closed the
guest went to the table, and took the pistol
in his hand. AS he had half suspected, it
was not loaded; it was as innocent as horse
shoe. But the traveller had his pistoI anmu-
rition in his pocket, and he quickly loaded
the weapon with powder and ball, calling
upon the darkey to witness.


Shortly the Major returned, and his first
movement was to look for his pistol, which
he found missing.


"My dear sir" said the guest, with low
bow, and one of the blssdest of smiles-a
smile, however. quickly followed By a look
that might have made hero quail II
found your pistol sadly deficient; but have
rectified all that You see have my powder
flask and BALL The pistol is loaded, sir,
secundunu arteut We will continue the
amusement by dance executed by the mas