When the applause which followed had subsided, Colonel Fellows arose and said:
"I am grateful to my friend from Mississippi for giving me an opportunity to explain that part of my military record which I apprehend has never been sufficiently clear. It is true. I was taken prisoner the first year of the war, and the enemy, well knowing the danger of my being at large, persistently refused to release me until peace was restored. Had I been promptly exchanged, the result of that war might have been different! But why it was, that my friend from Mississippi was so repeatedly and promptly exchanged is a question that until yesterday I have never been able to understand. It has given me deep concern. I have pondered over it during the silent watches of the night. Yesterday, however, my mind was completely set at rest upon that question by reading the correspondence—to be found in Volume 748, page 421 of the 'Record of the War of the Rebellion'—between President Lincoln and President Davis relating to the exchange of Private John Allen of Company G, Fourteenth Mississippi Volunteers. The correspondence covers many pages of this valuable publication, but I will read only the closing communication."
And while John with a new supply of terrapin before him was listening intently, Fellows carefully adjusting his eye-glasses and taking a letter from his pocket, continued:
"The letter I will read from President Lincoln concluded the correspondence, and is as follows: 'Dear Jeff: With this I return you Private John Allen of Company G, Fourteenth Mississippi. I require no prisoner in exchange. The Lord's truth is, Jeff, I had rather fight John than feed him!'"
XXIV AN OLD-TIME COUNTRY DOCTOR
THE WRITER AT HIS INN, THE TRAVELLER'S HOME—DOCTOR JOHN, ONE OF HIS EARLIEST ACQUAINTANCES—THE DOCTOR'S LIBERALITY IN ADMINISTERING MEDICINE—A DISAPPOINTMENT IN EARLY LIFE—THE DOCTOR'S IGNORANCE OF THE "SOLAR SYSTEM"—A DIFFICULTY WITH THE LANDLADY—A QUESTION OF ORTHOGRAPHY—THE DOCTOR AS A MEMBER OF A TOTAL-ABSTINENCE SOCIETY.
Upon my admission to the bar in 1858, I located at Metamora, a village of five hundred inhabitants, about forty miles northwest of Bloomington. It was beautifully and quietly situated, eight miles from the railroad, and was at the time the county-seat of Woodford County, one of the finest agricultural portions of Illinois.
Metamora contained many delightful families, and a cordial welcome was accorded me. The old tavern, "Traveller's Home," was mine inn, and as a hostelry it possessed rare advantages. The one that chiefly recommended it to me was its extremely moderate charges. Two dollars and a half per week for board and lodging, "washing and mending" included, were the inviting terms held out to all comers and goers. There was much, however, in the surroundings, appointments, etc., of this ancient inn, little calculated to reconcile delicately toned mortals to things of sense. It was of this place of entertainment that Colonel Ingersoll spoke when, in his description of the tapestry of Windsor Castle, he said that it reminded him of a Metamora table-cloth the second week of court.
The dear old tavern has fallen a victim to the remorseless tooth of time, but, in the palmy days of Metamora, when it was the county-seat, and the Spring and Fall terms of court were as regular in their coming as the seasons themselves, the old tavern was in its glory, and for all "transients" and "regulars" it was the chief objective point. For a decade or more its walls gave shelter to Judge Treat, Judge Davis, Mr. Lincoln, General Gridley, Judge Purple, and more than once to General Shields and Stephen A. Douglas. At a later date it was upon like occasion the stopping place of Colonel Ingersoll, John Burns, Judge Shaw, James S. Ewing, Robert E. Williams, Judge Richmond, and other well-known members of the bar.
One of my earliest acquaintances in Metamora, and one not soon to be forgotten, was Doctor John—familiarly called "Doc," except upon state occasions. As I write, the vision of the Doctor arises before me out of the mists of the shadowy past. His personal appearance was indeed remarkable. Standing six feet six in his number elevens, without an ounce of superfluous flesh, a neck somewhat elongated and set off to great advantage by an immense "Adam's apple," which appeared to be constantly on duty, head large and features a trifle exaggerated, and with iron gray locks hanging gracefully over his slightly stooped shoulders, the Doctor would have given pause to the McGregor, even with foot upon his native heather. He first saw the light of day in the "Panhandle" of the Old Dominion; the part thereof afterwards detached for the formation of the new State. How this all came about was to the Doctor as inexplicable as the riddle of the Sphinx; but he scouted the thought that he had ever ceased to be a son of "the real old Virginny." He claimed to be a descendant of one of "the first families," and there lingered about him in very truth much of the chivalric bearing of the old cavalier stock. No man living could possibly have invited a gentleman "to partake of some spirits" or "to participate in a glass of beer," in a loftier manner than did the Doctor. Not himself a member of the visible church, nor even an occasional attendant upon its service, the heart of the Doctor nevertheless, like that of the renowned Cave Burton, responded feelingly to every earnest supplication "for the preservation of the kindly fruits of the earth to be enjoyed in due season." And with the Doctor, as with Cave, the question of the quantity of the kindly fruits thus preserved was of far greater moment than any mere matter of sentiment as to their quality.