and smile no painter
could convey--those attributes of man which more fully than aught else
betray the immortal soul!

Just as I beheld him that day, bending above Major Favraud in his
tender, half-paternal dignity and solicitude combined, soothing and
condoling with him (I could not doubt, from the expression of his
speaking countenance), I see him still in mental vision; nor can I
wonder more at the depth and strength of enthusiasm he awakened in the
hearts of his friends.

It belongs not to every great man to excite this devotion, yet, where it
blends with greatness, it is irresistible. Mohammed, Cyrus, Alexander,
Darius, Pericles, Napoleon, were thus magnetically gifted. I recall few
instances of others so distinguished in station who possessed this
power, which has its root, perhaps, after all, in the great
master-passion of mortality, the yearning for exalted sympathy, so
seldom accorded.

This observation of mine was but a glimpse at best, for the winding of
the stage-horn was the signal for Mr. Calhoun's departure, and I never
saw him more. But that glimpse alone opened to my eyes a mighty volume!

A few days before I should have rejected as wearisome the details to
which I listened with eagerness now, and which I even sought to elicit
as to Mr. Calhoun--his mode of life, his mountain-home, and his passion
for those heights he inhabited, and which, no doubt, contributed to
train his character to energy and strengthen his _physique_ to endure
its brain-burden. I heard with pleasure the account of one who had
passed much of his youth beneath his roof, and who, however
enthusiastic, was, in the very framing of his nature, strictly truthful
with regard to the mutual devotion of the master and slaves, the
invariable courtesy and sweetness of his deportment to his own family,
his justice and regard for the feelings of his lowest dependant, his
simplicity, his cheerfulness.

"A grave and even gloomy man in public life, he is all life and interest
in the social circle," said Major Favraud. "His range of thought is the
grandest and most unlimited, his powers of conversation are the rarest I
have ever met with. Yet he never refused, on any occasion, to answer
with minuteness the inquiries of the smallest child or most
insignificant dependant. 'Had he not been Alexander, he must have been
Parmenio.' Had fortune not struck out for him the path of a statesman,
he would have made the most impressive and perfect of teach