Mr. Jefferson has inherited from his father the genial, sunny disposition for which the latter was famous. He is an essentially cheerful man, and trouble glances lightly off from him. He is generous to a fault, and carries his purse in his hand. Misfortune never appeals to him in vain, and many are the good works he has done in the humbler walks of his own calling. He is enthusiastically devoted to his profession, and enjoys his acting quite as much as his auditors. In putting his pieces on the stage, he is lavish of expense, and whenever he can control this part of the performance, it leaves nothing to be desired. Some years ago he brought out “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” at a Philadelphia theater, in a style of magnificence rarely witnessed on any stage. The scenery was exquisite, and was a collection of artistic gems. The success of the piece was very decided in Philadelphia, but when it was reproduced, with the same scenery and appointments, in a Western city, the public would scarcely go to see it, and the theater incurred a heavy loss in consequence. Jefferson’s remark to the manager, when the failure became apparent, was characteristic: “It is all right,” said he. “We have done our duty, and have made an artistic success of the piece. If the people will not come to see it, it is more their misfortune than ours.”
He has inherited also from his father considerable talent as an artist, and sketches with decided merit, though he makes no pretensions to artistic skill. In his vacations, which he passes in the country, his sketch-book is his constant companion. He is a famous sportsman and fisherman, and in the summer is rarely to be found without his gun and rod. It is his delight to tramp over miles of country in search of game, or to sit quietly in some cozy nook, and, dropping his line into the water, pass the hours in reveries broken only by the exertion necessary to secure a finny prize.
Not long since his love of art led him to buy a panorama merely because he admired it. He put it in charge of an agent in whom he knew he could confide, and started it on a tour throughout the country. In a month or two he received a gloomy letter from the agent, telling him that the exhibition had failed to draw spectators, and that he despaired of its ever paying expenses. “Never mind,” wrote Jefferson in reply, “it will be a gratification for those who do go to see it, and you may draw on me for what money you need.” The losses on the panorama, however, were so great that Jefferson was compelled to abandon it.