“‘Let me see it, my son,’ said the General; and he reached forth his long slender hand. As his eyes rested on item after item, I eagerly watched the expression of his countenance. No frown of displeasure was there, but simply attention. Folding the paper, he slowly said: ‘This is a large bill. My son Andrew is a good man, but a very extravagant one. I see many things here he could have done without. But, my son, I will pay this bill on one condition. It is that your employers will correct mistakes, should there be any.’ I assured him that they would certainly do so, and he requested me to write a check on the Planters’ Bank, adding: ‘My son, I came home from Washington with but 75 cents of my salary left, and had it not been for the kindness of my friend, Francis Blair, in lending me money, I would not be able to meet these obligations.’ I had never written a check and had no form with me, but I did the best I could and he signed it. He then requested me to write a receipt. Again I was puzzled, but I did the best I could and he accepted it. “I arose to go. He invited me most cordially to remain to dinner. I was too much delighted, too happy, too much relieved to think of such a thing. I longed to get back to the store and show them my check and tell them of my success. I felt a wild, boyish admiration for the great man before me, and I wondered how anyone could be so wicked as to say aught disagreeable of him. “‘If you will not stay, then you must see something of the Hermitage,’ he said, leading the way. I walked beside him about the grounds, the feeling of admiration and enthusiasm all the while in my heart for the great, tender-souled man whose guest I was. As we neared the tomb he raised his hand and, pointing, said: ‘My son, there lies the best woman that ever lived.’ A cloud of sadness spread over his face, and the expression was in keeping with the crepe on his hat—that crepe was worn the rest of his life. “‘George,’ he called, ‘show Mr. Hamilton around and I will await him here.’ I was shown the old gray warhorse, well cared for in his stable—the steed hero of the battle of New Orleans—and also the carriage which was made from the timbers of the ship _Constitution_, and in which General Jackson rode at the side of Mr. Van Buren from the White House to the east wing of the Capitol on the occasion of the inauguration of the latter. “Returning, I found the ex-President awaiting me at the door. As I took leave he warmly pressed my hand and invited me to visit him, saying that my short stay under his roof had given him a great deal of pleasure, that when he came to the city he would be very much gratified if I would seek him out and speak to him.”