That was a very natural inspiration. Talmage had delved into Russian affairs and found conditions ideal. The government was mild, just, progressive. The people were contented, and devoted to the Czar. There was no cruelty in the administration, and no suffering among the peasants, excepting the locality affected by the drought. The bread had been sent to feed the peasants, and all would be well. The Knout had been abolished. The serf, freed, was happy. Religious toleration was in practice; the circulation of political literature unhampered. There was not a cloud upon the horizon. George Kennan, Stepniak, Tolstoy, Kropotkin had been slandering vilely the most humane Government of Europe—a Government which Talmage compared to ours, to our discomfiture in various respects. With a Podsnapian wave of his hand, Talmage said to Europe, “_Let this international defamation of Russia cease._” With that Royal welcome fresh in his memory, with those public ovations still ringing in his ears, with that “complete gold-enameled tea service” gladdening his eye, with the “message of love” conveyed by the Prince Cantacuzene still warming his heart, how could Doctor Talmage prophesy otherwise? The spirit of the occasion demanded prophecy, and there it stands recorded, page 432: “_I prophesy for Nicholas the Second a long and happy reign!_” _A Prophet Whose Voice Was Not Heeded_ Almost in sight of where I live, there is a heap of stones that marks the spot where stood the hut in which George McDuffie was born. His folks were “poor folks.” Concerning his ancestry nothing is known. When I was a boy somebody told me a story to this effect: Little George McDuffie was at the cowpen where his mother was milking, and he had a calf by the ears holding it away from the cow. A traveler, in a buggy, drove up and stopped. Seeing the boy, and not realizing the absorbing character of the boy’s job, the wayfaring man called out: “Come here, Bubbie, and hold my horse.” To which the lad replied: “If you’ll come here and hold my calf, I’ll go there and hold your horse.” According to the story, the traveler was so tickled by the boy’s readiness of wit, that he took a fancy to him and secured him a position as clerk in a store in the city of Augusta. Well, George McDuffie wasn’t much of a clerk. He loved to read books better than to wait upon customers. It came to pass that his fondness for books attracted the attention of one of the Calhouns—_not_ John C., but his brother, I believe—and Mr. Calhoun placed the boy at the celebrated school of Dr. Waddell to be educated. The balance is history. McDuffie became one of the greatest legal advocates and political orators this country has ever known. Later in life he became involved in a newspaper controversy which drew him into two duels. In one of these he received a wound which injured his spine and affected his brain.