and what might not poor Jimtown have been, with all these advantages?" Throwing up his arms, in tragic tones he exclaimed: "Oh, Jimtown! Jimtown! Had the mighty things that have been done in Danville been done in thee, thou wouldst long since have repented in sackcloth and ashes!" The incident which I shall now relate was told me by my kinsman, General S. S. Fry of Danville. He and Colonel Woolford were friends from boyhood, and comrades in the Mexican and Civil wars. Their party affiliations, however, were different, General Fry being a Republican, and Colonel Woolford a Democrat. During the reconstruction period, soon after the close of the Civil war, a barbecue was given to the Colonel, then a candidate for Congress, in one of the mountain counties of his district. As a matter of course, the Colonel was to be the orator of the occasion. In order, if possible, to counteract the evil effect of his speech, the Republican State Committee requested General Fry to attend the barbecue, and engage Colonel Woolford in public debate. In compliance with this request, General Fry, after a horseback ride of many hours, put in an appearance at the appointed time and place. The attendance was general; the people of the entire county, of both sexes and of all ages and conditions, were there. The barbecue was well under way when General Fry arrived. A table of rough boards and of sufficient length had been constructed, and was literally covered with savory shote and mutton just from the pit where barbecued. These viands were abundantly supplemented with fried chicken, salt-rising bread, beaten biscuit, "corn dodgers," and cucumber pickles. To this add several representatives of the highly respectable pie family, and possibly an occasional pound cake, and the typical barbecue is before you. General Fry, upon his arrival, was warmly greeted by Colonel Woolford, whose hearty invitation to partake was not limited to the viands mentioned. The feast being at length happily concluded, and the crowd assembled around the speaker's stand, Colonel Woolford said to his old-time comrade: "Now, General Fry, you just go ahead and speak just as long as you want to. The boys have all heard me time and again, and I have nothing new to tell them, but they will be glad to hear you. When you get through, of course, if there is a little time left, I may say 'howdy' to the boys, and talk a little while, but you just go ahead." After formal introduction by the Colonel, General Fry did "go ahead," and discuss the financial question, the tariff, reconstruction, and dwelt earnestly and at length upon the magnanimity of the Republican party toward the men lately in rebellion against the Government. Since the surrender at Appomattox, no life had been taken, no one punished, no man ever put on his trial. It was without a parallel in history, and as a matter of simple gratitude, the Republican party was entitled to the support of the entire Southern people for such magnanimity. The speech at length concluded, Colonel Woolford arose and without even the formality of saying "howdy," or honoring finance or tariff with the briefest mention, proceeded: "General Fry has dwelt long and loud upon the magnanimity of the Republican party. He has told you that when the war was over and the last rebel had laid down his arms, a handshaking took place all around, everybody was forgiven, and the peace of heaven came down like a dove upon the whole Southern people. Yes - a hell of a magnanimity it was! How did they show the magnanimity that General Fry talks so much about? You all remember Stonewall Jackson, one of the grandest men God ever made. This same magnanimous Republican party took him prisoner, tried him by a drumhead court-martial, and shot him down like a mad dog after he had surrendered up his sword." At which General Fry interposed: "Why, Colonel Woolford, you ought not to make such a statement as that. Stonewall Jackson was accidentally shot by one of his own men in battle, and his memory is honored by all the people North and South." To this the Colonel replied: "Don't try to deceive these people. We don't put on style and wear store clothes like you big folks do down about Danville, but we live in our plain way, wear our home-spun and eat our hog and hominy; but if there is anything on earth that these people do love, it is the truth. What did this same magnanimous Republican party that General Fry had told you so much about do with General Robert E. Lee? I knew General Lee, I served with him in Mexico, and although we fought on different sides in the last war, I always respected him as a brave soldier. Well, after he had surrendered at Appomattox, and his men had all laid down their arms, what did this same magnanimous party that General Fry talked so much about do with General Lee? Why, they tried him by a drumhead court-martial and shot and quartered him right on the spot!" Again interrupting, General Fry indignantly exclaimed: "It is an outrage, Colonel Woolford, to attempt to deceive these people by such statements. General Lee was never even imprisoned, and is still alive, the president of a college in Virginia, and highly esteemed by everybody.' The Colonel answered: "Now, General Fry, you have been treated like a gentleman ever since you came to these mountains; we gave you the best we had to eat, gave you the last drop out of the bottle, and listened quietly to you just as long as you wanted to speak. We don't wear Sunday clothes, General Fry, like you do down in Danville, but just live in our plain way in our log cabins, and eat our hoe-cake, and say our prayers, but if there is anything on God's earth that we do love, it is the truth. It is wrong for you, General Fry, to try and fool these people. Yes, this same magnanimous party that General Fry has been telling you about, what did they do with poor old Jeff Davis after he was captured? Now, I never was fond of old Jeff myself, and I fought four years against him in the last war. But I was on the same side with him in Mexico, I saw him head the charge of the Mississippi rifles, and drive back the Mexican lancers after McKee and Clay and Hardin had been killed at Buena Vista, and I know he was no coward. Well, after he was in prison and as helpless as a child, what did they do with him? Why they just took him out, and without even giving him a drumhead trial, tied him up and burned him to ashes at a stake!" Fry sprang to his feet, exclaiming: "Great God! Jeff Davis is still alive, at his home in Mississippi, and has never even been tried; it is damnable to make such statements to these people, Colonel Woolford!" The Colonel thereupon, with a deeply injured air, said: "General Fry, you and I have been friends a life-time. We hooked watermelons, hunted coons, and attended all the frolics together when we were boys. We slept under the same blanket, belonged to the same mess, and fought side by side at Palo Alto and Cerro Gordo; we shed our blood on the same battlefields when fighting to save this glorious Union. I have loved you, General Fry, like a brother, but this is too much, it is putting friendship to a turrible test; it is a little more than flesh and blood can stand." Pausing for a moment, he apparently recovered himself from the deep emotion he had just shown, then quietly resuming, he said, "What I have said about the way they treated old Jeff is true, and here is my witness." He called out, "Bill, tell the General what you saw them do with old Jeff." Bill, a tall, lank, one-gallowsed mountaineer, leaning against a sapling near by, promptly deposed that he was present at the time, saw old Jeff led out, tied to a stake and finally disappear in a puff of smoke. At this, General Fry, without the formality of a farewell, immediately shook the mountain dust from his feet, mounted his horse, and, looking neither to the right nor to the left, retraced his steps to Danville, and without delay informed the State Committee that if they wanted any further joint debates with old Frank Woolford, they would have to send some one else. Years after, seated at my desk in the Postoffice Department in Washington, after I had appointed a few cross-road postmasters for Congressman Woolford, I ventured to inquire of him whether he had ever had a joint debate with General Fry. With a suppressed chuckle, and a quaint gleam of his remaining eye, he significantly replied, "It won't do, Colonel, to believe everything you hear!" XXII THE SAGE OF THE BAR WITTY SAYINGS BY MR. EVARTS HE DEFENDS PRESIDENT JOHN- TH HE late William M. Evarts, at one time the head of the American bar, said many things in his lighter moments worthy of remembrance. Upon his retirement from the bar to accept the position of Secretary of State, a farewell dinner was given him by prominent lawyers of New York. The appointments, viands, etc., it is needless to observe were all after the most approved style. Somewhat out of wont, however, a magnificent goose with all its appurtenances and suitably dished was placed immediately in front of the guest of honor. The grosser part of the feast concluded, the toast was proposed: "The Sage of the Bar." Slowly arising, Mr. Evarts surveyed for a moment the dish before him, and began: "What a wonderful transition! An hour ago you beheld a goose stuffed with sage; you now behold a sage stuffed with goose!" It is not entirely forgotten that during the administration of which Mr. Evarts was a part, total abstinence was faithfully enforced in the great dining-room of the Executive Mansion upon all occasions. To those who knew the Secretary of State, it is hardly necessary to say that he had little sympathy with this arrangement, that to him it was a custom "" Imore honored in the breach than the observance." Now it so happened that at a state dinner, upon a time, a mild punch in thimbleful instalments was served to the guests in lieu of more generous beverages. Raising the tiny vessel and bowing to the Austrian Ambassador at his side, |