Her abode was a seat of hospitality, and she well knew how to make her
guests feel at home. It used to be said in Tennessee that she could not
write; but, "as I have had the pleasure of reading nine letters in her
own handwriting," says Parton, "one of which was eight pages long, I
presume I have a right to deny the imputation. It must be confessed,
however, that the spelling was exceedingly bad, and that the writing was
so much worse as to be nearly illegible. If she was ignorant of books,
she was most learned in the lore of the forest, the dairy, the kitchen,
and the farm. I remember walking about a remarkably fine spring that
gushed from the earth near where her dairy stood, and hearing one of her
colored servants say that there was nothing upon the estate which she
valued so much as that spring." She grew to be a stout woman, Which made
her appear shorter than she really was. Her husband, on the contrary,
was remarkably tall and slender; so that when they danced a reel
together, which they often did, with all the vigor of the olden time,
the spectacle was extremely curious.
It was a great grief to both husband and wife that they had no children,
and it was to supply this want in the household that they adopted one of
Mrs. Donelson's nephews, and named him Andrew Jackson. This boy was the
delight of them both as long as they lived.
Colonel Benton, so long in the United States Senate, himself a pioneer
of the still remoter West, who knew Mrs.
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