extravagant, and fine, and his sayings too often found their way into print. In this way great injustice was done to the life and character of Robert Toombs, and Northern men who read these quaint sayings and redolent vaporings formed a distorted idea of the man. To a Northern correspondent who approached him during one of these periods, General Toombs said: "Yes, a gentleman whose intelligence revolts at usurpations must abstain from discussing the principles and policies of your Federal government, or receive the kicks of crossroad sputterers and press reporters; must either lie or be silent. They know only how to brawl and scrawl 'hot-head' and 'impolitic maniac.' Why, my free negroes know more than all your bosses. Now, damn it, put that in your paper." Robert Toombs was built to live ninety years, and to have been, at Gladstone's age, a Gladstone in power. He took little pains to explain his real nature. He seemed to take pains to conceal or mislead. He appeared at times to hide his better and expose his worse side. If he had been Byron, he would have put forward his deformed foot. He was utterly indifferent to posthumous fame. Time and again he was asked to have his letters and speeches compiled for print, but he would never hear of it. He waived these suggestions away with the sententious remark, "that his life was written on the pages of his country's history." With all his faults, his were strong principles and generous impulses. "We know something of what he yielded, but we know nothing of what he resisted." Include his strength and his weakness and measure him by other men, and we have a man of giant mold. One who was very near to Toombs in his last days said of him when he was dead: "It was a thing of sorrow to see this majestic old man pausing to measure his poor strength with a confirmed habit, rising, struggling, falling, and praying as he drifted on." General Toombs used to say that Webster was the greatest man he ever knew, that Clay managed men better, and Calhoun was the finest logician of the century. "The two most eloquent men I ever heard were Northern men," said he; "Choate and Prentiss." "Pierce," he used to say, "was the most complete gentleman I ever saw in the White House. He was clever and correct. Zachary Taylor was the most ignorant. It was amazing how little he knew. Van Buren was shrewd rather than sagacious. Tyler was a beautiful speaker, but Webster declared that a man who made a pretty speech was fit for nothing else."