" And with a fine air of
indifference he tossed the letter on the table.
"And do you know Old Hickory?" cried Mr. Wesley.
"Why not? Does it surprise you?" inquired the judge. It was
only his innate courtesy which restrained him from kicking the
postmaster into the street, so intense was his desire to be rid
of him.
"No, I don't know as it does, judge. Naturally a public man like
him is in the way of meeting with all sorts. A politician can't
afford to be too blame particular. Well, next time you write you
might just send him my regards--G. W. M. de L. Wesley's
regards--there was considerable contention over my getting this
office; I reckon he ain't forgot. There was speeches made, I
understand the lie was passed between two United States senators,
and that a quid of tobacco was throwed in anger." Having thus
clearly established the fact that he was a more or less national
character, Mr. Wesley took himself off.
When he had disappeared from sight down the street, the judge
closed the door. Then he picked up the letter. For along minute
he held it in his hand, uncertain, fearful, while his mind
slipped back into the past until his inward searching vision
ferreted out a handsome soldierly figure--his own.
"That's what Jackson remembers if he remembers anything!" he
muttered, as with trembling fingers he broke the seal. Almost
instantly a smile overspread his battered features. He hitched
his chin higher and squared his ponderous shoulders.
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