In one of the eastern counties of the district an amusing incident occurred. The three candidates were to speak at a meeting, and Davy’s turn came first. He made a short talk in the style that he had found always interested the men of his kind. The others followed with tedious attacks upon each other’s platforms, but without honoring Davy with a mention. In the midst of Colonel Alexander’s speech, some guinea-hens raised their sharp, staccato cries that sounded like “Crockett! Crockett! Crockett!” They so disturbed the Colonel that he had them driven away before going on with the speech. As soon as he had finished, Davy congratulated him upon being opposed to fowl language in public. The Colonel was at a loss for a reply to something of which he did not see the point, whereupon Davy went on to explain that the guinea-hens had offended his opponent because they had called for “Crockett! Crockett!” The whole crowd caught the joke and yelled with fierce backwoods mirth, and Davy records that “the Colonel seemed mighty bad plagued.” Party lines were not tightly drawn in those days, but out of the confusion was slowly taking place a separation of the elements that were to form the Republicans, under Jackson, and the Whigs, who later elected General Harrison as President of the United States. The Republicans later became the Democratic party, and about 1856, strange and confusing as it now seems, their opponents took the name of “Republicans.” Davy went into every nook and corner of his district, meeting and making friends. If there was a barbecue, he was the first attraction; at a shooting-match every one gloried in his skill. When the returns were complete they showed that Colonel Crockett had a plurality of 2,748 votes. This was so remarkable a victory over the men who supported the tariff legislation of 1824, that Davy became known at once all over the United States. The men who were urging the people of the country to make Jackson President, and who elected him in 1828, were proud of his origin; they gloried in his lowly birth, and proclaimed him a proof of the virtues that existed beneath the rough garb of the backwoodsman. And as they glorified Andrew Jackson, they exalted Davy Crockett. What Jackson had been, Davy Crockett was; he was still “the man from the cane,” the bear-hunter, the Indian fighter, the man who “went ahead.” In his little cabin on the Obion were his wife and children, sons and daughters of the wilderness; his coon-skin cap still hung upon the wall, his rifle stood by the open door; his garments were spun beneath his humble roof, and with his own daily labor he fed those who were dear to him. He was honest, fearless, and could read and write only with difficulty. All these things endeared him to the men of the Chickasaw Purchase, who also could read and write only with infinite pains. Until now the Presidents of the United States had been chosen from the ranks of the aristocrats. John Quincy Adams,