William Walker, the "Grey-eyed Man of Destiny," who was in 1854 more talked about than any other man in the country, was our guest for several days in Richmond. Whether he came to accept a dinner given him by the city, or whether the dinner was the result of the visit, I cannot remember. Although we knew him to be an interesting character, we were unprepared for the throng that filled our house every day while he was with us. Beginning early in the day, they poured in until night, and remained, spellbound by the magnetism of this wonderful man. As we could not invite them to leave for the three o'clock dinner (the dinner-hour in Virginia varied then to suit individual convenience), I took counsel of my blessed old negro cook, and following her advice, I spread a table every day with cold dishes,—tongue, ham, chickens, birds, salads, etc.,—to which all were made welcome. The sideboard ably supplemented this informal meal. Old Madeira could be had in those days, and in lieu of the cocktail of the present time, we brewed an appetizer, crowned with "the herb that grows on the grave of good Virginians."

The Richmond market was insufficient for sudden demands. We depended largely upon the small, covered country carts, intercepting them as they passed on their way to the grocers', who bartered 120things dry and liquid for the farmers' poultry, eggs, and butter. At this time of my distress, no carts hove in sight, but I knew a grocer with a noble soul,—one Mark Downey,—to whom I made a personal appeal, and he promised to send me, daily, everything he could gather, from a roasting pig to a reed-bird. My good cook rose to the occasion: "Ain't that Gin'al gone yet?" was her morning salutation, hastily adding, "Nem-mine, honey! We-all kin git along."

In some of the biographical sketches of William Walker I find him painted as little better—in fact, no better—than a pirate; a man of an unbounded stomach for power and place, regarding as nothing life, property, or his own word, and finally, justly forsaken and punished. Others present him to posterity as a scholar, an author, a graduate of colleges, a student at Heidelberg, also a hero of the first water, brave beyond compare; a maker of republics, statesman, dictator,—in all things fearless and dashing. When I turn to the storehouse of my own memory, I find a modest, courtly gentleman, with a strong but not ungentle face:—

"The mildest mannered man

That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat."

Of course I could not appear in the crowd that hung upon his lips all day, but when we gathered around the evening lamp he was never too weary to talk to me—but not about his conquests nor his ambitions. For a woman's ear he had gentler themes than these. 121 One night I startled my husband by asking, "What church do you belong to, General?"

William Walker.

"I have recently become a Catholic," he answered gravely; "it is the faith for a man like me! I have seen the poor wounded fellows die with great serenity after the ministration of their priest."

I recall a striking remark by the General to my husband. He said men are commonly equally courageous, the difference between them being that one man, from keener sensibility, sees a danger of which another is stolidly insensible. The former is really courageous, while the latter is indifferent from lack of apprehension. Himself incapable of fear, a higher authority on the subject cannot be imagined.

When he took leave of us, he gave me a perfect ambrotype picture of himself, probably the only genuine one extant. "Here I am, Madam, and I've always been called an ugly fellow." I ventured the usual deprecatory remark, but he shook his head:—

"I'm afraid there's no doubt about it! On my way here I heard a man close to my car-window sing out, 'Whar's the Gray-eyed Man of Destiny?' As he was close to me, I leaned out and said in a low tone, 'Here, my friend!' 'Friend nothin,' he sneered; 'an' you'd better take in your ugly mug.'"

He looked back from the carriage that took him to the depot and answered my waving handkerchief: "Good-by, good-by, dear lady! I'm going to make Nicaragua a nice place, fit for you!"

Just as we were about to engage in our own life-and-death struggle, we heard he had been betrayed, as Napoleon was betrayed, by the English, to whom, 122after defeat, he had fled for protection, and had met his death bravely.

His dream had been to win Nicaragua, as Houston had won Texas, and then annex it to the United States, thus strengthening the power of the South.

I have been told that many superstitions and legends have sprung up in Nicaragua and Honduras to cluster around the memory of William Walker, but in none is there a firmer belief than that his ghost appears on the anniversary of his death, and will so appear until he is avenged. A Tennessee boy, William G. Erwin, now helping to superintend the digging of the Panama Canal, has told the legend, in Senator Taylor's magazine, from which I select a few verses:—

"One night each year in Honduras, they clear the roads for his ghost,

Their long dead Gringo President—who rides with his phantom host.

He sweeps o'er the land in silence and the cowering natives hide,

From the Wraith of William Walker—who haunts the land where he died.

"Thus it was the wild tale started—that when dying on the sand,

Walker smiled and sternly told them, 'Till avenged I'll haunt your land!'

And now on snow-white stallion once a year at midnight's spell,

Across the land from sea to sea—rides the form that all know well.

"His head is high, his blade is bare, his white steed spurns the ground,

A phantom troop charge close behind—but all make never a sound;

While his blood cries yet for vengeance against this murderous herd—

He will ever come to warn them, that the day is but deferred. 123

"To the sons of old Honduras as they view him through the gloom,

The Gray-eyed Man of Destiny looks the Avatar of Doom;

In his face they read a warning like the writing on the wall,

'Tis, 'Beware, one day the Gringos will avenge their chieftain's fall!'"

My husband entered with great zeal and efficiency into the fight against "The Know-nothing party," or, as they proudly styled themselves, the "American party."

The principles of this party were naturally evolved from the fact that the ignorant foreign vote was influencing elections[2] in t............