righteous indignation. She ended by saying that as Mr. Jackson
was a stranger in Virginia, he was perhaps not aware that the
public sentiment of that State was altogether opposed to such acts
of brutality as that of which his son had been guilty.

"What have you been doing to that fellow Andrew Jackson?" one
of Vincent's friends, a young fellow two years older than himself,
said to him a few days later. "There were a lot of us talking over
things yesterday, in Richmond, and he came up and joined in.
Something was said about Abolitionists, and he said that he should
like to see every Abolitionist in the State strung up to a tree. He is
always pretty violent, as you know; but on the present occasion he
went further than usual, and then went on to say that the worst and
most dangerous Abolitionists were not Northern men but
Southerners, who were traitors to their State.

"He said: 'For example, there is that young Wingfield. He has been
to England, and has come back with his heart filled with
Abolitionist notions;' and that such opinions at the present time
were a danger to the State.

"Two or three of us took the matter up, as you might guess, and
told him he had better mind what he was saying or it would be the
worse for him. Harry Furniss went so far as to tell him that he
was a liar, and that if he didn't like that he would have satisfaction
in the usual way. Master Jackson didn't like it, but muttered
something and slunk off. What's the matter between you?"

"I should not have said anything about it," Vincent replied, "if
Jackson had chosen to hold his tongue; but as he chooses to go