But
it was the tall, haggard, white-haired soldier-politician who had put
Van Buren where he was who awoke the spontaneous enthusiasm of the
crowds.
Three days after the inauguration Jackson started for the Hermitage.
His trip became a series of ovations, and he was obliged several times
to pause for rest. At last he reached Nashville, where once again, as
in the old days of the Indian wars, he was received with an acclaim
deeply tinged by personal friendship and neighborly pride. A great
banquet in his honor was presided over by James K. Polk, now Speaker
of the national House of Representatives; and the orators vied one
with another in extolling his virtues and depicting his services to
the country. Then Jackson went on to the homestead whose seclusion he
coveted.
No one knew better than the ex-President himself that his course was
almost run. He was seventy years of age and seldom free from pain for
an hour. He considered himself, moreover, a poor man--mainly, it
appears, because he went back to Tennessee owing ten thousand dollars
and with only ninety dollars in his pockets.
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