AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A PENNSYLVANIAN
I.—“A hundred miles broader than Pennsylvania. What are your revenues?”
He.—“About a million dollars, but it takes a good deal of that to pay the interest on the debt. What are the revenues of Pennsylvania?”
I.—“About twenty-five million dollars a year.”
He.—“What is your debt’?”
I.—“We have none.”
He.—“Great Gawd! twenty-five million dollars of revenue and no debt!”
At Americus, the nearest point to Andersonville upon the railroad, and about twelve miles distant, a crowd gathered in the town hall and a young lawyer named Robert E. Lee made an address of welcome, to which I replied. He had committed his speech to memory, and was much embarrassed, but it was couched in the best of tone and great kindliness.
At Andersonville were six hundred Pennsylvania soldiers, who had been imprisoned there during the war and who had been sent there by the state forty years afterward to take a last look at the place. It was a solemn occasion and the memories were all painful. In presenting the impressive memorial to the United States, I said: