Theodore Tilton
As Seen In Paris Recently by a Woman Whom He Had Befriended.
Many years ago I was a frightened, bitter, angry little rebel, one of the only two southern girls in a large school far up the Hudson river. It was not very long after the close of our terrible civil war, and the two angry but helpless little creatures were the victims of the bitter spirit which at that time was still so strong. Suddenly the crowd of tormentors was dispersed by a tall, beautiful girl, the acknowledged queen of the school. She gathered us both into her tender clasp, and her voice sang like a clarion as she said: "Cowards! Don't you see their black dresses?" It was enough, and in a moment the tide turned, and our persecutors became our consolers.
Our rescuer, our guardian angel, as she became henceforth, was a sister of Theodore Tilton and was about to graduate, while we had just entered school.
The day of her graduation came, and among the judges was Mr. Tilton, then in the zenith of his fame, brilliant, handsome, debonair, with gracious words for every one, but many kind and gentle ones for the sisters, two devoted little worshipers, whose story he had been told.
I was the junior winner of the first prize for spelling, and never will I forget my thrill of conscious self respect when he said, "The tables are turned, and the little rebel has conquered you."
Last spring I was at an afternoon tea in Paris and and was attracted by the grandeur of an old man, who towered above all present like a giant among pygmies. Some vagrant memory was stirred, so I asked the name of this "grand old man" and was told that he was Theodore Tilton and that he never permitted himself to be presented to strangers unless, knowing who he was, they themselves requested a presentation. Doing homage to the spirit which prompted such a course, I asked that we might be introduced, and then followed such an hour of pleasant reminiscences as will not soon be forgotten.
From the beautiful spot upon the banks of the Hudson where we first met we wandered through many lands and many scenes. I had known him first when he was like a giant tree of the forest in the pride and pomp of its full new growth. I saw him again, like that same giant tree, which, having withstood the warring and the buffeting of the elements, stood covered with heavy moss, still straight and strong, above the petty things of life, but-alone.
Today he is the center of a circle of loving friends, who, amid brilliancy of intellect and height of social position, still feel that his presence gives them honor. His face shows the impress of such agony as few souls have battled with and have lived, btu it also shows the courage of the vanquisher of himself. So today Theodore Tilton stands, every lonely, ever aloof, but to the last with haughty head unbent.--Indianapolis Sentinel.
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Old News
Ann Arbor Argus-Democrat