“I came here to deliver in person a letter written by my mother to her father, General Darrington, because other letters sent through the mail, had been returned unread.  It contained a request for one hundred dollars to pay the expense of a surgical operation, which we hoped would restore her health.  When I reached Elm Bluff, I waited on the steps, until General Darrington’s attorney finished his business and came out; then I was led by an old colored man to the bed-room where General Darrington sat.  I gave no name, fearing he might refuse to admit me, and he was very courteous in his manner until I laid the letter before him.  He immediately recognized the handwriting, and threw it to the floor, declaring that no human being had the right to address him as father, except his son Prince.  I picked up the letter, and insisted he should at least read the petition of a suffering, and perhaps dying woman.  He was very violent in his denunciation of my parents, and his voice was loud and angry.  So painful was the whole interview, that it was a bitter trial to me to remain in his presence, but knowing how absolutely necessary it was that mother should obtain the money, I forced myself to beg him to read the letter.  Finally he consented, read it, and seemed somewhat softened; but he tore it into strips and threw it from him.  He drank several glasses of wine from a decanter on the table, and offered me some, expressing the opinion that I must be tired from my journey.  I declined it.  General Darrington then questioned me about my family, my mode of living; and after a few moments became very much excited, renewing his harsh invectives against my parents.  It was at this stage of the interview that he uttered the identical words quoted by the witness:  ’My Will is so strong, no contest can touch it, and it will stand forever between your mother and my property.’

“Immediately after, he went to the door leading into the library and called ‘Bedney!’ No one answered, and he shut the door, kicking it as it closed.  When he came back to his chair, he said very bitterly:  ’At least we will have no eavesdroppers at this resurrection of my dead.’  He told me all the story of my mother’s girlhood; of her marriage, which had infuriated him; that he had sent her a certain proportion of property, and then disowned and disinherited her.  Afterward he described his lonely life, his second marriage which was very happy, and his adoption of his wife’s son, who, he repeatedly told me, had usurped my mother’s place in his affections.  Finally he said: 

“’Your mother has asked for one hundred dollars.  You shall have it; not because I recognize her as child of mine, but because a sick woman appeals to a Southern gentleman.’