mander-in-chief — no less; and then shook hands with me like a kinsman.”
“And kinsmen we are in some sort, they tell me. See here, Mr. Baker, send your son Albert to see us when he comes home again. Get him into politics right! he can’t understand these matters too young, and Franklin is a zealous Democrat, you know.”
Somewhat later Albert made a visit to the Pierces’, and he, the undergraduate, formed a sincere and devoted attachment for the future president. Something about the young man attracted Franklin Pierce to him. He reminded him, no doubt, of that other devoted friend, Nathaniel Hawthorne, his college mate at Bowdoin. Perhaps it was young Baker’s passion for abstract metaphysics.
“When you’ve finished college; come to me,” Franklin Pierce said in parting, “and I’ll start you reading law.”
The next time Mark Baker was in Concord, the governor entertained him at dinner. Governor Pierce, the politician, was pleased at the prospect of a close alliance with an old family of such wide ramifications as the Bakers of Bow and Pembroke with their numerous voters, and in signification of his satisfaction offered Mr. Baker a gold-headed walking-stick as he was leaving. Mr. Baker declined it, saying he never used a cane. His pride was as unbending as his rugged figure, which he carried erect to his grave.
The love between Albert Baker and his youngest sister was most tender, and she beheld these arrangements for his future with an interest beyond
