That there was anything disreputable attached to the lady’s name is very improbable; for she was more than fifteen months in the house of Green, who was a man of wealth, and remarkable for his pride and fastidiousness in selecting his friends or acquaintances.  He was the first Territorial representative of Mississippi in Congress—­was at the head of society socially, and certainly would never have permitted a lady of equivocal character to the privileges of a guest in his house, or to the association of his daughters, then young.  During the time she was awaiting this divorce, she was at times an inmate of the family of Abner Green, of Second Creek, where she was always gladly received, and he and his family were even more particular as to the character and position of those they admitted to their intimacy, if possible, than Thomas B. Green.  This intimacy was increased by the marriage of two of the Green brothers to nieces of Mrs. Jackson.

In 1835, when Jackson was President, the writer, passing from Louisiana to New York with his family, spent some days at Washington.  His lady was the youngest daughter of Abner Green; he was in company with a daughter of Henry Green and her husband; her mother was niece to Mrs. Jackson.  We called to see the President, and when my lady was introduced to the General, he was informed she was the daughter of his old friend, Abner Green, of Second Creek.  He did not speak, but held her hand for some moments, gazing intently into her face.  His feelings overcame him, and clasping her to his bosom, he said, “I must kiss you, my child, for your sainted mother’s sake;” then holding her from him, he looked again, “Oh! how like your mother you are—­she was the friend of my poor Rachel, when she so much needed a friend—­I loved her, and I love her memory;” and then, as if ashamed of his emotion, he continued:  “You see, my child, though I am President through the kindness or folly of the people, I am but a weak, silly old man.”

We spent the evening with him, and when in his private sitting-room his pipe was lighted and brought to him, he said:  “Now, my child, let us talk about Mississippi and the old people.”  I have never in all my life seen more tenderness of manner, or more deep emotion shown, than this stern old man continually evinced when speaking of his wife and her friends.

The character of General Jackson is yet greatly misunderstood.  This has been caused by the fact that his words and actions, when in command, or when enraged, as a man, have been the main data upon which the estimate of his bearing and character has been predicated.  He was irascible and quick in his temper, and when angered was violent in words and manner.  It was at such moments that the stern inflexibility of his will was manifest; and his passion towered in proportion to provocation.  But in private life and social intercourse he was bland, gentle, and conciliating.  His manner was most polished and lofty in society, and in a lady’s parlor, in urbanity and polish of manners, he never had a superior.  This high polish was nature’s spontaneous gift.  He had never been taught it in courts, or from association with those who had.  It was the emanation of his great soul, which stole out through his every word and movement in the presence of ladies, and which erupted as a volcano at insult or indignity from man.