IN turning from the great men who have thus far occupied the executive chair of the United States, to those who immediately follow, one feels that he has been among the gods, and is now going down to dwell among perverse and passion-scarred men. The descent is so sudden, and the change is so marked with violence and paltriness that it is like going into another climate or civilization. The first six presidents were men of strength, breadth, nobility of character, and life-great products of a great era. They differed much from each other, but each was great and noble in his way, a tower of strength to the republic, a royal illustration of its principles, a magnificent specimen of manhood. Americans have never had to apologize for their weaknesses, while the world has been quick to do them honor, and the greatest of every country and age since their time have accepted them as peers in the highest realm of thought and action. As the ages move away, their renown will grow, and the study of their exalted characters and lives will quicken the generations of men in what is most manly and meritorious. It was theirs to act conspicuous parts in founding the republic, and conducting its affairs in the first forty years of its existence. It is largely the product of their wisdom and energy, and will forever stand the monument of their greatness of mind and worth of character.

ANDREW JACKSON, SENIOR.

Andrew Jackson, Sr., and his wife, were of Scotch-Irish descent. Their ancestors had gone from Scotland to the north of Ireland, many years before their time. They were poor, and had suffered much from the British misgovernment of always oppressed and unhappy Ireland. They had little love for England, she had so dealt with their adopted country with an iron hand. To get away from her immediate oppression, into an American colony where land was plenty and cheap; where fish and game could be had for the taking; where sunshine and fuel were abundant, and frost and snow troubled not, became an object of their desire. Gathering up their scanty store of goods and money, they set sail for Charleston, South Carolina. This was in 1765, just about the time that the colonies began to feel the heavy hand of British oppression, hindering their natural development.

A seaport town was not the place for a farmer to settle, so Mr. Jackson's face was soon set toward the country. He fixed on the Waxhaw settlement, on the creek of that name—a branch of the Catawba river-one hundred and sixty-five miles northwest from Charleston, near the line of the two Carolinas. The creek and settlement took their name from a tribe of Indians which had formerly occupied that vicinity. Here the Jackson's planted their hearthstone. They had two young sons, Hugh and Robert. Here they erected their cabin and began life in the American wilderness. The next year, after one crop had been raised, Mr. Jackson died. The desolate widow, in this wild waste of woods, soon became the mother of a third son, which she named for his father, Andrew. He was born March 15, 1767. When the mother had laid the form of her husband in the grave, she went immediately to her sister and husband, Mr. McKinney, a few miles away in North Carolina. There was born the seventh president of the United States. To all human appearance nothing was more improbable than that this babe of sorrow, poverty and extreme humility, would ever rise to greatness and honor among men. All that could be said of his