Later there came to New York another Southerner--a Far Southerner of a very different quality--who attracted no little attention. This was Tom Ochiltree. He, too, was well born, his father an eminent jurist of Texas; he, himself, a wit, _bon homme_ and raconteur. Travers once said: "We have three professional liars in America--Tom Ochiltree is one and George Alfred Townsend is the other two."
The stories told of Tom would fill a book. He denied none, however preposterous--was indeed the author of many of the most amusing--of how, when the old judge proposed to take him into law partnership he caused to be painted an office sign: Thomas P. Ochiltree and Father; of his reply to General Grant, who had made him United States Marshal of Texas, and later suggested that it would be well for Tom to pay less attention to the race course: "Why, Mr. President, all that turf publicity relates to a horse named after me, not to me," it being that the horse of the day had been so called; and of General Grant's reply: "Nevertheless, it would be well, Tom, for you to look in upon Texas once in a while"--in short, of his many sayings and exploits while a member of Congress from the Galveston district; among the rest, that having brought in a resolution tendering sympathy to the German Empire on the death of Herr Laska, the most advanced and distinguished of Radical Socialists, which became for the moment a _cause célébre_. Tom remarked, "Not that I care a damn about it, except for the prominence it gives to Bismarck."
He lived when in Washington at Chamberlin's. He and John Chamberlin were close friends. Once when he was breakfasting with John a mutual friend came in. He was in doubt what to order. Tom suggested beefsteak and onions.
"But," objected the newcomer, "I am about to call on some ladies, and the smell of onions on my breath, you know!"
"Don't let that trouble you," said Tom; "you have the steak and onions and when you get your bill that will take your breath away!"
Under an unpromising exterior--a stocky build and fiery red head--there glowed a brave, generous and tender spirit. The man was a _preux chevalier_. He was a knight-errant. All women--especially all good and discerning women who knew him and who could intuitively read beneath that clumsy personality his fine sense of respect--even of adoration--loved Tom Ochiltree.