terrible oaths of which so much had been said. His speech was gentle and
kind, and he asked a blessing at every meal exactly as his own quiet,
dignified father at home. In all the three weeks they remained his
guests not an oath or an ugly word fell from his lips. The Boy wondered
how people could tell such lies.

The General liked boys, too. It was easy to see that. He gave hours of
his time to the games and sports of his adopted son, Andrew Jackson,
Jr., and his two little guests. He got up contests of all sorts. They
raced their ponies. They ran and jumped. They played marbles. They
followed the hounds. And always with them as friend and counselor, the
General, gentle, kind, considerate. The only thing he prohibited was
wrestling.

"No, boys," he said with a frown. "That's not a good sport for high
spirited youth. To feel the hand of a rival on your body may lead to a
fight."

The deep set eyes flashed with the memory of his own hot blooded boyhood
and young manhood.

The General's wife won the Boy's whole heart from the moment he saw her.

"How could they tell such lies!" he kept repeating with boyish
indignation. Pure and sweet as the face of his own mother was hers.
Loving, unselfish, tender and thoughtful, she moved through her house
with the gentle step of a ministering angel. The knightly deference with
which the General attended her slightest wish, stirred the Boy's
imagination. He could see him standing erect, pistol in hand, in the
gray dawn of the morning on which he faced the enemy who had slandered