If only General Jackson could be persuaded to come, and Mr.
Polk. We had many things to do. I set about running errands for Mrs.
Clayton. Dorothy was notifying her friends, getting her veil, her dress
into readiness. Mammy and Jenny were cooking all sorts of delicacies;
they had requisitioned old Mose who was the slave of a neighbor, Mr.
Parsons, and the wedding preparations progressed with speed. I had
traveled hither without the slightest expectation of this sudden
consummation and therefore had no clothes suitable for the occasion. I
had to attend to that as best I could.
The hour came. Douglas arrived with Mr. Polk, who had also been a
friend of Mr. Clayton's. But General Jackson was unable to come. He was
not strong. He sent a bottle of rare wine and a bouquet and his hearty
congratulations; all by a colored messenger who was excited and voluble.
General Jackson! It was less than a year when he passed from earth.
Mr. Polk was a full-faced, rather a square-faced man, with broad
forehead, packed abundantly at the temples, rather intense eyes, and
lines running by the corners of his nose, which slightly looped his
mouth upward in an expression of decision and self-reliance. He was
already called a small man. But I did not see him so. He was of pleasing
presence of distinguished decorum, and chivalrous manner.
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