raneous with ourselves, that it did for the contemporary of Counselor Pleydell.

The meanings of words and phrases change from day to day. The etymology of "high jinks" in the works of an English author must be referred to Guy Mannering. But there is a new class of authors, who occasionally use the phrase, whose definition of it must be based

upon the happy hours that they have spent within the walls of the Bohemian Club, perhaps in company with the mothers and the wives and the sisters of the members of the club. This difference is of importance to some persons, and represents the advance of “high jinks" during the second century of its history. ANDREW MCF. DAVIS.

Colonel E. D. Baker was of English birth. When he was about four years of age, his parents, who were educated English people, (although the reverse has been stated, probably to illustrate how it is possible for one to rise from humble origin), came to this country, and settled in Philadelphia, where his father introduced the Lancastrian system of schools. There the lad resided for some time, attending his parents' school, and amusing himself during his leisure hours in wandering about the city, observing, with the quick eye of youth, everything. The looms of the weavers were to him great objects of interest; and he spent hours watching the weavers, as they deftly shot the shuttle from side to side. Becoming quite a favorite with the workmen, they sometimes allowed him to try his hand at the looms, which fact probably gave rise to the story that he worked at that trade when a boy.

It is related that when he was ten years old he had become quite familiar with our form of government; and that one day his mother surprised him in his favorite resort, reading the Constitution of the United States. He was crying bitterly. Upon being questioned as to the cause of his grief, he replied, between his sobs, that he "could never be President of the United States, because the Constitution prohibited it; but,” said he, “it does not say that a foreigner can not be a senator, and I shall be one before I die.” This was his leading ambition, and he accomplished it but a short time before his untimely death.

A few years later, his father joined the great caravan of westward bound emigrants, and finally settled in Carrollton, Green County, Illinois. At this place young Baker continued his studies, and even at that early age evinced remarkable natural powers as an orator. His father sent him one day to look for a favorite mare, which had strayed, and told him not to return until he had found her. The youth

| started forth and soon obtained trace of her, trudging along on foot, carrying the bridle over his shoulder, hearing of the animal here and there, until, just after nightfall of the second day, he found himself entering the little village of Lynville, thirty miles from home. As he passed up the single street of the town, looking for a hotel, his attention was attracted by lights and sounds in the school-house. He approached the building, and, hearing voices, boldly entered, thinking to gain some information within. He soon discovered that he was in the midst of a debating society-a popular method of amusement in the Far West in those days. Nearly the entire population of the place had assembled to listen to the arguments of the rustic speakers upon some political question of the day. Young Baker was a Whig, and soon became interested in the proceedings. He had, quietly and unobserved, taken a seat near the door of the school-house. After a dozen bucolic Ciceros had aired their views on each side, an old, gray-haired Bourbon majestically arose, hemmed, cleared his throat, took a drink of water, and proceeded to demolish his Whig opponents absolutely, with his torrents of homespun eloquence. It was evident that his arguments were considered unanswerable, and the presiding officer was apparently about to decide in favor of the "Locofoco" side, when young Baker arose, and modestly requested permission to reply to the aged gentleman. All eyes turned and beheld a strange young man, apparently about sixteen years of age, with the bridle still over his back. His request, however, was kindly granted, and the future senator made his début as a debater, and for half an hour handled the disciples of Jefferson without gloves, completely turning the tables. At the close of his speech the question was quickly decided in favor of the Whig side, and the audience gathered about the young orator in admiration. The old gentleman whom he had van

quished grasped him warmly by the hand, and said: "Young man, who air ye, and whar did ye come from?" After his presence there had been explained, the old villager continued: "You come over to my house and stay all night, and to-morry the boys'll go an' help you hunt the mar." The invitation was accepted. The "mar" was found, and Baker went his way home, leaving behind a host of friends.

Years passed on. Baker studied law, was admitted to the bar, became the firm friend of Abraham Lincoln, practiced in the same courts with the lamented President and such men as Douglas, McDougal, and others, was elected to the legislature, to Congress, served in the Mexican war, went to the isthmus in connection with the railroad, there contracted Panama fever, which nearly ended his life, and finally, in 1852, came to California. All old Californians are familiar with his life and experiences here; but, nevertheless, the following incident is related, as it is believed that it never was in print before. Starr King, shortly after his removal to this coast, was engaged by some society to deliver a course of lectures in Sacramento-among others, one on the "Life and Death of Socrates." In the afternoon of the day this lecture was to have been delivered, the chairman of the committee received a telegram from Mr. King saying he was ill, and could not fulfill his engagement for that night. The committee was in a quandary. The lecture was advertised, tickets were sold, and it was too late in the day to announce a postponement. Finally, one of the committee said: "I have it. Colonel Baker is in town; he can assist us, if we can persuade him." Thereupon, the committee started in search of the colonel, whom they found at his hotel, playing billiards, of which he was passionately fond. The chairman made known his errand, and the colonel assented; but proceeded quietly with his game, which he continued playing until about six o'clock in the evening. The member of the committee who had been left to remind the colonel of his promise, if he saw any signs that it had been forgotten, approached him and said: "Colonel, haven't you forgotten about that lecture you are to deliver to-night?" "Oh, no," said he, "that's all right; I'll be on hand." The committeeman retired, rather doubtful. After playing half an hour longer, the colonel went to his room, arranged his toilet, and proceeded to the church, which he found filled with a large and fashionable audience. He mounted the rostrum, and made one of the most eloquent and brilliant efforts of his life, on the very subject Starr King had chosen-"The Life and Death of Socrates."

"Colonel Baker," said the chairman, at the close of the lecture, and after he had received the congratulations of his friends, "tell me how it is that you can play billiards until an hour of the time you are to lecture, and then deliver such a masterly effort. What time had you for preparation?" "Oh," said the colonel, good-naturedly, "that's nothing. I have made the life of Socrates a study from my youth, and I needed no preparation. I was already primed, and only wanted a chance."

Every one remembers his great speech in reply to the scholarly and eloquent debater, Senator Breckinridge. This is how he happened to make that speech. The California regiment (seventy-first Pennsylvania volunteers), which Baker commanded, was encamped at the foot of Meridian Hill, about a mile from the capitol, having just returned from Fortress Monroe. Riding into the city from the camp, the colonel arrived at the capitol, and throwing the reins of his horse to an orderly, sauntered carelessly into the senate-chamber, expecting the usual routine of business. To his surprise, Breckinridge was speaking. Taking his seat, he listened to the adroit Kentuckian's argument in favor of the right of the States to secede. When the senator was through, Baker arose to his feet, his tall, commanding figure negligently attired in his colonel's uniform, and his white hair waving and glistening in the light. Then he uttered the stirring, eloquent words which cheered desponding Union men, and strengthened the courage of the "doubting Thomases." When he had finished, and after receiving the enthusiastic congratulations of his Republican colleagues, he quietly mounted his horse and rode back to camp, as if he had not just performed the herculean feat of hurling the champion of "polished treason" into the dust.

Shortly after, Senator Breckinridge, accompanied by Senator McDougal, visited the camp of the California Regiment, and after partaking of the hospitalities of the colonel's tent, went forth with him to witness the dress-parade, which was then forming. As they walked along the line, the men recognized Breckinridge. Suddenly there was a low murmur, as of an approaching wind. It gradually increased in volume, until it deepened into an unmistakable groan from the throats of sixteen hundred men. As soon as the colonel realized its import, he sprang forward, almost ten feet, it seemed, at a single bound, and said, with flashing eye, and in a loud, commanding voice: "Men of the California Regiment, I hope you will remember the courtesy due your commander's guest." Then, turning to the senator, he said: "I trust you will pardon the seeming rudeness of the

did he not remain in his seat in the Senate, as other dignified senators were content to do? The answer is to be found in one of his speeches: "Mr. President, I am in favor of bold, forward, and determined war." In other words, he "talked fight," and he was not the man to sit idly by and see others do that which he counseled without taking part in it himself.

It is known to a great many that Colonel Baker was elected to Congress at an early age from the Sangamon District of Illinois. Mr. Lincoln was a candidate for the nomination before the convention, but Baker was successful. After the nomination had been made, the latter sent a characteristic note to Lincoln, saying that he would never stand in his way again; and if it ever appeared that he was so doing, Mr. Lincoln need only return him that note, and he would retire. When Baker's term had expired, and the convention was again assembled to make nominations, Mr. Lincoln sent him the note, whereupon the colonel went before the delegates and advocated the nomination of his friend. Mr. Lincoln was nominated and afterward elected.

Baker then turned his eyes to other fields. He went to Galena District, and obtained the nomination on the Whig ticket for Congress. Although the district had been largely Democratic, such was his winning influence that he was elected by a handsome majority.

After the battle of Ball's Bluff, the writer, in company with the colonel's brother, Dr. Alfred C. Baker, called upon President Lincoln, to show him the order directing the colonel to cross the river, about which there was so much controversy at the time, and which the writer had taken from the colonel's hand as his remains were being brought from the field. There were present, also, William H. Seward and Thurlow Weed. The order was exhibited to Mr. Lincoln, who unfolded it with trembling

hands, smoothed out the creases covered with the blood of his dead friend, and, with tears streaming from his eyes, read:

"You will cross the river, take up a strong position, and, if possible, make a dash on Leesburgh. "CHARLES P. STONE,

"Brigadier-General."

"Gentlemen," said the President, "my Baker was murdered;" meaning, of course, that he was sacrificed by reason of the order, and he never changed his mind. The manner of his death has frequently been misstated. He was not killed by any one individual nor by one shot, but by a volley from a rebel regiment which came up on the left flank, and which, the writer has reason to believe, Baker thought was a reenforcement under General Gorman, sent from Edward's Ferry by General Stone. His life paid the forfeit of his error, and he fell, pierced by nine bullets through heart and brain, death being instantaneous. The rebels charged across the ravine and made a desperate effort to capture his body, but were gallantly repulsed by the New York company of the regiment, under Captain Berial. The remains were finally carried from the field by Captains Hicks, Young, the writer, and others, and taken to Poolesville, Maryland, four miles from the battle-field, thence to Washington, where they were deposited in a vault, in the presence of the President, Cabinet, Senate and Representatives, foreign ministers, and a vast concourse of people. They were afterward embalmed and delivered to the committee of Californians, to be brought to this State. En route to New York, they lay in state in Independence Hall in Philadelphia, and over one hundred thousand people passed through the hall and took a farewell look at him whose matchless eloquence had but yesterday aroused their patriotism and cheered their desponding hearts. EDWARD B. JEROME.