In many respects Andrew Jackson was the most interesting, picturesque and unique character America has produced. Scotch and Irish blood commingling in his veins, there was a perfect blend of the characteristics of both races, and in addition thereto he had some traits and besetments peculiarly his own. In his calm and restful moods, he was as tender and serene as a child, and easily accessible by the very humblest; but when the storm of passion swept over his soul, he was a flaming furnace of fury, almost wholly heedless of consequences, and as much to be feared and avoided as an enraged lion. In the face of perils he had the dauntlessness of John Knox, and was an exact counterpart of the great reformer when he threw down the gage of battle to the Roman hierarchy. A soldier by nature, he scoffed at the prescribed rules of military movements, and made his own tactics, surpassing even the Corsican prodigy in martial genius and originality, as the trained soldiers of Pakenham, who won the bloody field of Waterloo, testified involuntarily when they fled in defeat and dismay before his undisciplined militia from the gates of New Orleans. The highest order of statesmanship wrought in him its perfect work. If he was not the founder, he was the preserver, of a great party. He was a sturdy patriot. Love of country was the controlling emotion of his great soul. The determination which animated him, crystallized in his stern pronouncement, “The federal union: it must be preserved!” crushed an incipient rebellion as a giant would crush a shell of glass. His judicial administration was signalized by clear discernment, keen analysis, deep penetration, ready and correct decision, and an instinct to trail the sly and devious cunning of wrong and guilt. Jackson lacked the refinements of fashion and the polished graces of the courtier, but his quick grasp of every situation and his instinctive sense of the proprieties bore him with composure and dignity through all the social ordeals through which he had to pass. Still, in these functions he had a will and a way of his own, and little he recked whether others were pleased or affronted. Jackson’s figure, like the shadow of the Brocken, grows more colossal as we recede from it. This is one side of Jackson’s life--the sober, serious side--an unblurred career of honor, usefulness and triumph, for which the truth-loving muse of history never tires of garlanding his name with the most loving eulogies. As is usually the case with mortals, there was a reverse side of Jackson’s character. Here we find a few spots on the otherwise white flower of a blameless life.