Yet she but lived to triumph and to see
Her fame proved pure as 'twas designed to be,
When Nature, in her great and high behest,
Formed, of her daughters, her among the best.
Yet shall her cherished memory long endure,
To still assuage the grief it may not cure.
As when the glorious sun retires to rest,
He leaves a golden twilight in the west,
Where the mild radiance of his thousand rays
Illumes the skies and gladdens every gaze;

So the remembrance of her virtues dear

Shall o'er the hearts of those who loved her here
Shed the mild radiance of that tranquil joy,

Which death, nor fate, nor ill can e'er destroy."

Until a few days before his death, the General wore always around his neck and hidden in his bosom a miniature of Mrs. Jackson, on the back of which is a pretty little wreath made of his and her hair. The chain to which it is attached is curiously wrought of black beads intermingled with a flower-work of bright gold ones, into which these words are skilfully introduced: "Presented to General Andrew Jackson as a token of esteem, from Caledonia M. Gibson. May blessings crown thy hoary head." Every night he placed this miniature on a little table by his bedside, leaning against his Bible, with the beloved face towards him, so that the kind, familiar smile should be his first greeting when he waked. His granddaughter, now Mrs. Lawrence, bears the honored name of his wife, Rachel Jackson, and was an especial favorite of his. His eyes were often fixed upon her during his last illness with peculiar interest and affection. One morning within a few days of his death, when she came

THE TOMB AT THE HERMITAGE.

321

to bid him good-bye, before starting to the city to school, he threw the chain around her neck and asked her to wear, for his sake, the miniature he had loved and worn so long.

across.

In a corner of the garden at the Hermitage there is a simple elegant monument raised over the vault in which lie the remains of General Jackson and his wife. The steps run around the circular area, eighteen feet From this platform spring eight fluted columns of the Doric order, surmounted by a handsome entablature supporting the dome, which is crowned with a funereal urn. On the interior, a plain cornice of vaulted ceiling, stuccoed in white, gives an air of purity and comeliness, well suited to a tomb. From the centre of the platform rises a pyramid on a square base. On the floor, on each side of this pyramid, lie the tablets which contain the inscriptions. The one on the left is the General's, which bears only his name, and the record of his birth and death. The hand of an undying affection has covered the other with a long and tender testimony to her worth. It runs thus:

"Here lie the remains of Mrs. Rachel Jackson, wife of President Jackson, who died the 22d of December, 1828, aged 61. Her face was fair, her person pleasing, her temper amiable, and her heart kind; she delighted in relieving the wants of her fellow-creatures, and cultivated that divine pleasure by the most liberal and unpretending methods; to the poor she was a benefactor, to the rich an example; to the wretched a comforter, to

the prosperous an ornament; her piety went hand in hand with her benevolence, and she thanked her Creator for being permitted to do good. A being so gentle and yet so virtuous, slander might wound but could not dishonor. Even death, when he tore her from the arms of her husband, could but transport her to the bosom of her God."

Here in the freshness and greenness of the garden they planted, surrounded with climbing vines and fra grant blooms, the General and his beloved wife sleep their last sweet sleep. Across a garden path lie the remains of Mr. Earl, the artist, "friend and companion of General Andrew Jackson." Beside him lies Andrew Jackson, the adopted son of the General; and near are two of his infant sons, and a grown son, Samuel, who fell in battle,

General Jackson survived his wife more than sixteen years, and, unto the end, his love for her burned as brightly as in the hey-day of his youth. Though aged and suffering greatly, he was remarkably energetic and kept up his correspondence with his old and dear friends. The last letter that he ever wrote, only two days before his death, was addressed to the Hon. Mr. Polk, President of the United States, expressing confidence in his judgment and ability to guard well and truly the interests of his country.

EMILY DONELSON.

MRS. EMILY DONELSON, the accomplished mistress of the White House during General Jackson's Presidential term, was the youngest child of Captain John Donelson, a man of sterling integrity and irreproachable character, perfect in all the relations of life, respected as a citizen, honored as a Christian, and beloved as a friend and neighbor. She was born in Davidson County, Tennessee, and educated at the Old Academy, in Nashville. Of rare personal loveliness and superior intellect, no expense or care was spared to fit her for the high position she was destined to fill in society. Though her childhood was spent in what was then called the "backwoods," it was not passed in obscurity, for her close relationship with Mrs. Jackson, the public prominence of her near relations, Generals Smith, Coffee, and Hayes, and the great wealth and high standing of her father, early made her familiar with camps and crowds, and developed that courtly grace and ease of manner for which she was afterwards so pre-eminent. A host of suitors contended. for the beautiful maiden's hand, among whom were General Sam Houston, Col. Ephraim H. Foster, and Major Gustavus A. Henry; they always spoke of her as the "lovely Emily," and delighted in expatiating on the charms of her mind and person.

At the early age of sixteen she was married to her cousin, Major Andrew J. Donelson, the protégé and confidential adviser of General Jackson. She was ever a fond and faithful wife, sharing the joys and triumphs of her husband, relieving his cares and sorrows, filling his home with peace and comfort, and his heart with happiness.

On General Jackson's election to the Presidency, he appointed Major Donelson his private Secretary, and invited Mrs. Donelson to officiate as mistress of ceremonies at the Executive Mansion.

To settle a delicate question of precedence between Mrs. Jackson, jr., and Mrs. Donelson, who were both inmates of the President's House and nieces of General Jackson, he said to Mrs. Jackson, "You, my dear, are mistress of the Hermitage, and Emily is hostess of the White House." Both were satisfied with this decision, and ever afterward Mrs. Donelson occupied the first position in the President's Mansion. This was a position that the elegance and refinement of the former mistresses of the mansion had invested with great respect; and Mrs. Donelson filled it as they had done, ever mindful of her dignity as a lady, and true to her duty as a wife and mother. In all that is lovely and noble in woman, she was the peer of her illustrious predecessors; and her tact and grace contributed much to render General Jackson's term such a brilliant epoch in American history. It was a day of fierce party spirit; political animosity spared neither sex nor condition, yet the voice of detraction was never raised against her honored name. Friend and foe alike paid homage to her charms.