A similarly flattering picture of the domestic side of the General’s life is to be found in the published recollections of Thomas H. Benton. Benton knew all sides of Jackson’s character for he was first his admiring young henchman, then his bitter enemy and then his devoted friend again. He was with Jackson on the battlefield, he was with him in the political maelstrom of Washington, he visited him frequently in the quiet seclusion of the Hermitage; and of the latter aspect of the old chieftan’s life, Benton says that “He was gentle in his house and alive to the tenderest emotions.” As an instance of this—an instance, it should be observed, greatly at variance with the popular conception of his character but worth more than a long discourse in showing what that character really was, Colonel Benton tells of how he arrived at the Hermitage one wet, chilly evening in February and came upon the General in the twilight sitting alone before the fire, a lamb and a child between his knees. “He started a little,” says Benton, “called a servant to remove the two innocents to another room, and explained to me how it was. The child had cried because his lamb was out in the cold and begged him to bring it in—which he had done to please the child, his adopted son, then not two years old. The ferocious man does not do that!” This incident made a deep impression on Colonel Benton, and he referred to it again in a eulogy on Jackson’s character delivered after the latter’s death. Another early visitor at the Hermitage left this observation concerning Jackson, the host: “Had we not seen General Jackson before we would have taken him for a visitor, not the host of the mansion. He greeted us cordially and bade us feel at home, but gave us distinctly to understand that he took no trouble to look after any but his lady guests. As for the gentlemen, there were the parlor, the dining-room, the library, the sideboard and its refreshments, there were the servants; and if anything was wanting all that was necessary was to ring. He was as good as his word. He did not sit at the head of the table, but mingled with his guests, and always preferred a seat between two ladies, obviously seeking a chair between different ones at various times. He was very easy and graceful in his attentions; free and often playful, but always dignified and earnest, in his conversation. He was quick to perceive every point of word or manner, was gracious in approval, but did not hesitate to dissent with courtesy when he differed. He obviously had a hidden vein of humor, loved aphorism, and could politely convey a sense of polite travesty. If put upon his metal he was very positive but gravely respectful. He conversed freely and seemed to be absorbed in attention to what the ladies were saying; but if a word of note was uttered at any distance from him audibly he caught it by a quick and pertinent comment without losing or leaving the subject about which he