CHAPTER XXXVIII.

WH

MR. HARDIN AT HOME.

WHEN the mailed knight has removed his armor, only then we see the man. Although helmet, and visor, and breast-plate, and greaves are no longer worn in this unknightly age, yet mankind, in their intercourse with each other, encase themselves with an outward demeanor, quite as effectually concealing the grace and shapeliness of character. Only in the security and privacy of home is the reserve, characterizing public intercourse, laid aside, and only then and there does the man appear as he really is.

Mr. Hardin's residence at Bardstown was a commodious building of brick, of irregular structure. Originally a one-storied building, with two rooms in front, to this an addition had been made, on the left, of two stories, comprising a large hall and front room, and room in rear, with similar rooms above. These added-rooms and the hall were unusually large. The hall was entered by a front door, and in the hall a staircase connected with the rooms above. A later tenant has added a veranda in front. The outer appearance of the house gave no suggestion of architectural thought. The only purpose, evidently, had been to roof in and inclose a given amount of space. An exception should be made as to the left gable, above which two chimneys ascended, which were connected by a horizontal wall that manifested some intention of accompanying them to their tops, but stopped short of that point. Perhaps some fanciful architect caught this hint from the webbed feet of water-fowls. With an ample porch and rooms to rear, it was, altogether, a commodious dwelling, and not suspected, in its earlier history, of being inconvenient, whatever judgment might be passed on that question now. If lacking the graces of colonial or Queen Anne architecture, or the strength of the Gothic, yet it had within, the elements-elements eluding the reach of wealth and the skill of the architect-of an old-fashioned, hospitable, warm-hearted Kentucky home. The house was surrounded by ample grounds, stretching down to the street, to which a goodly number of forest, fruit, and ornamental trees added grace and comfortable shade.

Mr. Hardin s home was long a happy one. In its sacred precincts, austerity was laid aside and the bitterness of sarcasm and invective carefully sheathed. The gentle and benevolent sentiments of the heart had full and free action. Good humor and hospitality were in the ascendant. Hearty good fellowship inspired him and made him the most delightful of companions.

"I remember Ben Hardin," writes a daughter of the late Francis P. Blair, Sr., "for, though politically opposed, he was on the kindest terms with my parents, and always a heartily-welcomed guest at their home. Nothing was enjoyed there more than his stories, rough as some of them were. His truc-hearted friendship to my father on one occasion was often dwelt upon and gratefully remembered by all of us."* If guests came to his home, they were welcome, no matter what their rank or station. The dweller of the cabin in the "Knobs," found the same open, unreserved greeting in the Hardin mansion that met the honored statesman, or the citizen boasting birth and fortune. The household was a miniature republic, where the worthy always found ready and hospitable admittance, and were treated with perfect equality. Its members were proud, not of themselves, but rather each of the other.

Mr. Hardin's mother survived until he had reached the zenith of his fame, yet he was always the affectionate and loyal son as when her clear head and steady hand guided him safely over all the pitfalls of youth. In domestic matters, he ever yielded unqualified deference to the good sense of his wife, to whom he was tenderly attached.

Undoubtedly, the influence of "Betsey Barbour," over her husband, proved most beneficent. Descended from a stock of proud and gentle blood, yet vigorous withal, reared in a home of wealth and refinement, and worthy every honor he could win for her or himself, she had furnished not only an incentive to effort, but proved herself a "lamp to his feet and a guide to his way." She curbed the excesses and rounded the angles of his character, purified his impulses and aspirations, and, by her loving inspiration, gave wings to his genius.

Toward his children, he was fond and indulgent. He found especial delight in their manifestations of sprightliness. The affection he felt for his own offspring, begot a tenderness for all children. Dr. Burr Harrison was an old friend-personal and political. He was prominent as a physician, and well known as a politician. For a while, he was a competitor of Mr. Hardin, when the latter was a candidate for Congress in 1833. About this period, a personal mis

Mrs. Admiral Lee.

understanding occurred, and they ceased to speak to or recognize O each other for a year. Dr. Harrison had always been Mr. Hardin's family physician, and, somewhat singularly, this relation was not terminated by the breach alluded to.

When in his visits to Mr. Hardin's house they encountered each other, they passed in silence. This unfriendly relation ended as whimsically as it had been maintained. The doctor one day happened to overhear Hardin talking very kindly and affectionately to one of his (Harrison's) children. My God," said he, "I can't stay mad with a man that loves my children." And thenceforward their friendship knew no interruption.

A kind neighbor and a faithful friend, yet, he was not exempt from dislikes, and indulged no false pretense or concealments on the subject. Usually when at Bardstown, his time was spent in the court-house, at his office, at home, or at his mill. He had no place of resort other than these. On Sunday mornings, he would frequently walk into town, and engage in conversation with idlers he met about the streets. On such occasions, his conversation recruited his audience with marvelous rapidity.

His library was large and well-selected. Aside from works on the law, it was stocked with an abundant supply of general literature, history, biography, poetry, etc. It was one of the most valuable private collections in the State, and its owner was not a little proud of it. Among his books, he spent much of his time. He was a book-lover, and when in out-of-the-way places, where libraries were unknown, he would devour any insipid waif he could lay hands on, with a relish equal to that of the thirsty traveler of the desert drinking at a scant and muddy pool in a lonely oasis. He has been known to spend hours-at such times-absorbed with the contents of a primary school book, finding between its simple and rudimentary lines, knowledge and wisdom invisible to less discerning eyes.

By reason of a crippled hand, his penmanship was difficult. Perhaps this fact in part explains why he wrote so little. One who knew him personally and well, thought him qualified to have excelled in literary composition. To a lady who wrote gracefully, he suggested the abundant material for an historical romance based on Burr's conspiracy, and urged the undertaking.*

He was fond of manual labor. When at home, he frequently went to the fields where his slaves were employed. He not only directed them, but not unfrequently "lent a hand" himself. He sold a large

Mrs Mariah Daviess, of Harrodsburg, Ky.

MILLING, DISTILLING, AND HUSBANDRY.

597

number of hogs one year, and the purchaser complained that he had not sufficient help to drive them to market. Mr. Hardin volunteered to assist, and spent a day thus. One of his most attractive resorts was a small saw and grist-mill, operated by water-power, on his home farm. Napoleon at the head of his army did not feel prouder than Mr. Hardin did in the proprietorship of that mill. He would watch the operation of its machinery for hours, in mute admiration. He assisted in getting logs to the saw and the lumber away, as well as filling the hopper and removing the grist. It evidently expressed to him ideas of power, progress, and philosophy, not revealed to ordinary observers. He labored about it not for the profit to result, but as a mark of his esteem and respect for a manufacturing establishment.

He had large orchards on his farm. On a certain season, when fruit was abundant, he resolved to manufacture brandy. He engaged a coppersmith at Bardstown, who yet lives to relate the fact,* to make several copper stills. He made brandy that season, though with what success is not known. The following year he prepared to resume operations, when he discovered that all his stills were missing. On investigation, he ascertained that some of his enterprising negroes had dismantled them, and sold them, for a trifle, as old copper, to an itinerant peddler. He vowed to open many vials of wrath on the buyer of those stills, and, for that purpose, to pursue him to the ends of the earth. But Mr. Hardin's wrath was of the fierce, fiery, and evanescent kind, rapid in explosion, and not less sudden in abatement. He never afterward manufactured spirits.

He began farming in early life. He acquired large tracts of land adjacent to Bardstown, which he cultivated with the labor of his slaves. When not professionally employed, he gave personal attention to his farm and mill. The farm was, however, usually in charge of the negroes, one of whom acted as foreman. He was an indulgent master, and averse to that discipline by means of which only a Kentucky slave could be induced to earn his daily bread. The result was, it required the aid of his professional income to support the home-establishment. He was not at all discouraged, or even disappointed, at these results, which he well understood and publicly acknowledged. He had a colored foreman, named Bill, whom he had implicitly trusted for a long time. Bill's management of affairs proved unprofitable, but he, notwithstanding, retained his master's confidence. A natural rascal, he finally became so bold in his thievery and mis

Wm. F McGill.