"The old man was crying now, and rocked the cradle

My eyes were a little ob

turned to broad-shouldered

violently to hide his tears. scured by moisture; but I Tom, and he related the sequel, which, you must admit, is a genuine mountain idyl.

"It was a long story, but briefly told about as follows: Tom was not killed, as reported, at Chancellorsville, but desperately wounded and made a prisoner. He was sent to Columbus, O., and when he recovered from his wounds. managed to make his escape. He worked his way to the Ohio River, and one dark night attempted to cross into Kentucky. He was discovered by some home guards, pursued, and again wounded. He managed to land on the Kentucky side, however, and escaped in the darkness, dragging a shattered leg through the thick bushes. He hobbled along all that night, but grew weak from the loss of blood. He saw a log cabin in the distance, and nerved himself to reach it. The effort was successful, but he fell fainting across the threshold. The family living there were Union people, and the head of the household, Grimsey Webb, was in the body of home guards that surrounded the escaping rebel on the river the night before. They took him in, however, and nursed him back to life. Grimsey Webb had a daughter, Kate, who was constantly at the bedside of the wounded soldier. As is usual, under such romantic circumstances, an attachment sprang up between the two which ripened into love. When Tom Lomsden was able to move, Kate Webb had promised to marry him. The Union forces were in possession of the country, and they gave the fugitive the choice of going back to prison or joining the Union army. He elected to do the latter, enlisted, received his bounty, bade his sweetheart goodbye, and was marched off to the front. For gallantry during the latter days of the Confederacy, where the once grand army of Virginia fought the superior forces of the enemy with the desperation of despair, Tom Lomsden was made

a sergeant in Company K of the 102d Ohio, commanded by Colonel Routledge, and after the surrender at Appomattox he was transferred to the 57th Pennsyvania, and ordered to Washington for garrison duty. His regiment was mustered out of the service a few days after meeting his father, and he hastened back to Lewis County, Kentucky, to greet his sweetheart.

"We were not rich,' said he, in conclusion, 'but the President gave father one thousand dollars, and we bought this place.'

"He was the best friend I ever had; God bless him,' said the old man, softly; 'and down to the day of his death he sent me regularly every month twenty dollars. I was in hopes to be able to vote for him again for President, but the Lord took him away. He sent me that picture a few days before he died. He was the best friend I

ever had, and I always said he some day."

would be a great man

CHAPTER II.

MR. JOHNSON'S MARRIAGE-HIS PROGRESS IN LEARNINGHIS DEVOTED AND NOBLE TEACHER.

THE

HE manner of Johnson's first appearance at Greenville was too common in East Tennessee to excite much attention or work to his disadvantage. He was soon engaged at his trade, and it was not long until he had erected the shanty which still exists and bears on its front the inscription, "A. Johnson, Tailor." This little shop is in view of the railroad at Greenville, and is inhabited by a negro family, once, in part, the "chattels" of the tailor. The little old house has two rooms in it, and is partly covered by creeping vines. It is held in considerable esteem as peculiarly illustrative of a nowise uncommon fact in the biographical history of republican America.

In that early and golden day it was the custom of tailors to make long tramps over the country, working in the towns they visited. Before firmly taking root at Greenville, Johnson made, at least, one of these trips. In this way he visited Nashville, Columbia, and other towns in Middle and West Tennessee; but finding Greenville more to his taste he returned to make it his permanent home. He did, however, try his chances over at Dandridge, in Jefferson

County, and perhaps at one or two other points, but both his inclinations and good fortune finally firmly fixed him at Greenville.

Not far from Johnson's little shop lived Eliza McCardle, the daughter of a shoe-maker. To this young woman Johnson was married before he had been in Greenville two years, and before either of them was of age. This proved to be a very fortu nate step for the aspiring tailor. Greenville was even then a town of some pretensions, and had what was termed a good school, under the old order of things. McCardle had been able to give his only daughter some education, and this she at once turned to the advantage of the ambitious tailor whom she married. She was naturally possessed of fine traits, and all these were soon felt for good in the life of her husband. And although she was never very stout, she was of incalculable benefit to him, and especially in his earlier struggles to get on in the world. While he worked on the bench, she read to him, and to her he was indebted for his ability to write his own name. He was ambitious to advance, and every effort she bestowed upon him was rewarded by extraordinary success. She was his only school-master (if the unknown reader of "The American Speaker" at Raleigh be left out of the count), and few teachers ever had a more earnest and successful pupil.

Soon after his marriage Johnson took the care of old Mrs. McCardle, now a widow, and under his roof both his own and his wife's mother died.

Besides acquiring some little of the rudiments of learning, Johnson mainly devoted his efforts to history and politics, the road in which he believed he would gain distinction. This course greatly retarded his progress in acquiring such a knowledge from books as would best qualify him for business, and especially for years did he lose sight of the necessity of the ability to speak his native tongue correctly. This, indeed, he never could do. His wife was deficient in this respect herself, and of course could not be either teacher or incentive. In an age and among a people where good grammar was the exception instead of the rule, and where there was utter indifference on the subject of correct speech, he long neglected this essential element of success in a wide social and political field. He learned rapidly by contact with men of culture, and while the English grammar always remained, to some extent, a mystery to him, he not only became able in time to make a fairly smooth and admirable speech, but also to write a passably correct letter or other paper. Considering the difficulties surrounding his case, his success in letters was, perhaps, the most remarkable thing in his career. Nothing can better illustrate his progress than the two following letters to George W. Jones, written at dates seven years apart, and which are in every way exact copies of the originals now in possession of the Nashville Historical Society:

"GREENVILLE, December 29, 1836. "DEAR FRIEND,-I Received yours of the 14 of Nomb which affords me no small degree of Satisfaction to think

1.