General Toombs resided in a three-story frame house in Washington, built after the manner of the olden time, with the spacious piazza, heavy columns, the wide door, and the large rooms. He lived in ease and comfort. He was an early riser, and after breakfast devoted himself to business or correspondence. At midday he was accessible to visitors, and rarely dined alone. In the afternoon he walked or drove. At night he sat in his arm-chair at his fireside, and in his lips invariably carried an unlit cigar. Smoking did not agree with him. While in Europe he delighted to test the tobacco of the different countries, but the practice always gave him pain above the eyes. His last attempt was in the army of Virginia. Convinced that smoking injured him, he never resumed it. Fond of his dry smoke, he had a peculiar cigar made to order, very closely wrapped, with fine tobacco. General Toombs made frequent trips away from home, even during the latter part of his life. The State retained his services in important cases. One of his last public acts was the prosecution of certain railway companies for back taxes. He recovered thousands of dollars to the State. He was summoned to Atlanta in 1880 to prosecute a defaulting State treasurer. He appeared very feeble, but his speech was a model of clearness and logic. During the latter part of his life there was a return of his early fault of quick, nervous, compressed speech. He grasped only the great hillocks of thought and left the intervening ground to be filled by the listener. His terse, rapid style was difficult to follow. As a presiding judge said, "His leaps are like a kangaroo's, and his speech gave me the headache." But his argument in the Jack Jones case was a model of eloquence and convincing law. A large number of friends attended the court, convinced that General Toombs was nearing the end of his great career, and were astounded at the manner in which he delivered his argument. As he concluded his address he turned in his place and caught the eye of Rev. Father J. M. O'Brien, an old friend of his. "Why, Father O'Brien," he said, wringing his hand, "I am glad to see you taking an interest in this case. These people are trying to usurp your functions. They want to grant the defendant absolution." "But, General," replied the quick-witted priest, "even I could not grant absolution until he had made restitution." "That's the doctrine," said the delighted lawyer, pleased to find that the point of his speech had taken so well. His face was all aglow with the _gaudia certaminis_ of the forum. This was his last appearance in court, and he won his case. His mother Georgia claimed his allegiance always, and he gave her his last and best powers. He worked for the commonwealth, and gave the people more than he ever received in return.