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a Deutocratic 3Jottrual, ntbetea to Sotten Elgfjts, Ntus, Soitis utvalt Mtt!!(gente, Efteraturejoaiy sutate gitite,$c
"We will cling to the Pillars of the Temple of our and if it must fal, we will Perish amidst the Ruins.
W. F. DURISOE, Proprietor EDGEFIELD ., JULY 31,1851. VOL.xv.-nO.2s
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to be paid by the Magistrate advertising.
MARVy, the sweetest of female names,
may not inappropriately stand at the head
of our list. It is from the Hebrew, and
signifies exalted. Its French form is Mfa.
vie. It is, we hardly need say, a famous
name in both sacred and profane history.
The name has, literally, been exalted. It
has been linked with titles and power
with crowns and coronets, and adorned
by goodness and beauty. Mary has ever
been a favorite name with the poets. By.
ron, as he assured us, felt an absolnte
passion for it. It is interwoven with some
of its sweetest verses. The pleasant poet,
Burns, seems to have been as much at
tached to it as the author of Childe Ha.
rold.-It is still the theme 'of bards and
bardings unnumbered. We might fill a
column or two here with songs, sonnets,
and ballads, in the melody of whose verse
the most musical syllablesare those which
form the charming name of Mary. But
where so much presents itself, we can
I n, sort
The very music of the name has gone
Iate our being."
Let the motto, or the toast, if you will,
be-the single line of Bryan Waller Proctor:
" Here's a health to thee, sweet Mary."
SAMN-is almost as common a name as
Mary, but it lacks-the prestige which its
historical and poetical associations throw
around the latter.-It is also from the He
brew and signifies a princess. In poetry
it takes the form of Sally or Sallie, and
is found in many a love song and ballad.
Sally is sometimes contracted to Sal,
which is neither poetical nor euphonious.
Laughing. sporting, prattling Sallie,
Now tell me what shall be
That tint of sky, sunlit or starry,
To which I'll liken thee ;
The softest shades of heaven's own blue
Those lustrous eyes seem melting through.
Srs.m, another name of Hebrew ori
gin, signifies a lily. In poetry it is usu
ally seen in its contracted form of Sue.
It is a pretty name, and is immortalized
in Gay's well-known ballad. The signifi
eation of the name is happily introduced
in the closing line:
" Adieu, she cried, and waved her liy hand."
Ralph Hoyt, in a very graceful poem, en
titled, " My Sue," has the followmng lines:
" And how often have I strayed
With the lads along the lea,
And with many a pretty maid,
* Yet, ah! none of them for me,
For if she whom I love best
In the groups could not he seen,
No contentment in my breast,
- No delight upon the green;
But there was a garden nigh,
With its bower just in view,
And still craved my heart and eyo
That swoet lily there--my Sue."
MABEL is probably derived from ma
bella, signifying my fair, though some
suppese it is contracted from amabillis,
lovely or amiable. It is good name in
either ease, and worthy of being perpetu
ated. Mary Howitt has a ballad comn
"Arnse, my maiden Mfabel,"
which is the only poem we now recollect
in which the name occurs.
URSULA, a name associated in our mind
with homeliness of face and goodness of
hteart concealed under the veil of a nun,
ja from' tho Latin, 4nd signifies nothing
enore amiable than a female bear! Who,
knowing this, will give the iiame to a
Bz.,*xonu, one of the sweetest names
borne by woman, is from the French and
signifies white or fair. Mary Hewitt
pnakes the orange flower its floral type
" Ah, cousin Blanche, let's see,
What's the gowver resembling thee ;
With those dove-like eyes of thine,
And thy fair hair's silken twine,
With thy low broad forehead, white
As marble, and as purely bright;
Withth mouth so calm and sweet,
And tydainty hands and feet;
What' the flower most like to thee,
Blassom of the orange tree."
Lucy, in its French from Lucic, signi
fles lucid, and oomes from the Latin.
" Lucy Is a golden girl,"
says Bryan Proctor, and many wiill eoho
the line. Lucy is a favorite name with
almost every one, Wordsworth has made
it one of the
"?fames.wedded unto song."
And lovely indeed is the maiden bear
lag that sweet naume.
BEATRICE is another name derived fror
the Latin. It signifies one who blesses o
makes happy. No name can be more ap
propriate for a lovely, af'ectionate, an
amiable woman. Beatrice has been hon
ored above all others by the poets. She]
ly, Shakspeare and Dante have, in turn
thrown around it the charm of their num
bers, and linked it with thoughts botl
lovely and tragic:
" Io son Beatrice chi ti faecio andare."
CAROLINE is the feminine form o
Charles, or rather of its Latin equivalen
Carolus. It comes from the German
and has the siguification of brave-sotde
or raliant. The name has been borne b'
women who have proved themselves wor
thy of the name. It is not in the manlj
breast alone that valor is found or need
ed. There are those who, having loarned
---" How sublime a thing it is
To suffer and be strong,"
have displayed a courage which shame,
that of the warrior on the battle-field.
Caroline is sometimes abbreviated to Car.
rie, Callie, and Cal:
" I know a fair young girl,
With an eye like the sky's own blue
Or a sweet spring flower when its azure leaves
Are bright with early dew
Oh, a thing half earth and half divine
Is she, the fair young Caroline."
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN.
When the world was created, and all
creatures assembled to have their life ap.
pointed, the ass first advanced, and asked
how long he would have to live.
"Thirty years," replied Nature; "will
that be agreeable to thee ?"
"Alas !" replied the ass, "it is a long
while ! Remember what a wearisome
existence mine will be; from morning
until night I shall have to bear heavy bur
dens, dragging corn sacks to mill, that
others may eat bread, while I shall have
no encouragement, nor be refreshed with
anything but blows and kicks. Give me
but a portion of that time, I pray I"
Nature was moved with compassion,
nd presented to him but eighteen years.
rho ass went away comforted, and the
log came forward.
"How long dost thou require to live ?"
sked Nature; "hi 'ears were -too
"Is it thy will that I should I" replied
the dog. "Think how much I shall have
to run out: my feet will not last so long
a time; and when I shall have lost my
voice for barking and my teeth for biting,
what else shall I be fit for but to lie in
the corner and growl?"
Nature thought he was right and gave
him twelve years. The ape then ap.
"Thou wilt doubtless willingly live the
thirty years," said Nature; "thou wilt
not have to labor as the ass and the dog.
Life will be pleasant to thee."
"Ah, no !" cried he ; "so it may seem
to others, but it will not be. Should pud
ding ever rain down, I shall havo no
spoon! I shall play merry tricks, and
excite laughter by my grimaces, and then
be rewarded with a sour apple. How
often sorrow lies concealed behind a jest!
I shall not be ablo to endure for thirty
Nature was gracious, and he received
At last came man, healthy and strong,
and asked the measure of his days.
"Will thirty years content thee I"
"Hew short a time !" exclaimed man :
"when I shall have built my house, and
sindled a fire on my own hearth-when
he trees I shall have planted are about
to bloom and bear fruit, wvhen life will
seem to me most desirable, I shall die!
Oh, Nature ! grant me a longer period."
"Thou shalt have the eighteen years of
the ass besides."
"That is not enough."
"Take, likewise, the twelve years of
the dog." "It is not yet sufficient," ro
iterated man: "give me more !
"I give thee, then, the ten years of the
ape; in vain wvilt thou crave more."
Man departed unsatisfied.
Thus man lives seventy years. The
first thirty are his human years, and pass
idly by. He is then healthy and happy
-he labors cheerfully, and rejoices in is
oxistnce.-The eighteen years of the as!
come next, and, burden upon burden
heaped upon him, he carries the corn that
is to feed others, and blows and kicks are
the wages of his faithful service. Th<
twelve years of the dog follow, and h<
loses his teeth, and lies in a corner am
growls. When these are gone, the ape'
ten years form the conclusion. The ma:
is weak and silly becomes the sport c
DON'T GuUMBLE.-He is a fool tha
grumbles at every little mischance. Pu
the best foot forward, is an old and gooi
maxim. Don't run about, and tell ac
quaintances that you have been unfortu
nate. People do not like to have unfortt
nate men for acquaintances. Add to:
vigorous determination a cheerful' spiril
if reverses come, bear them like a philose
sopher and get rid of them as soon a
you can. Poverty is like a panther: loo)
it steadily in the face, and it ill turn
WHEr a person loses his reputatior
the very last place wvhere he goes to lo
or it is the nhece where he has lost it.
n Romantic Pact.
r Tn the winter of 1840, a lady who had
lately been deprived by death of a daugh.
I ter was on a visit to New-Orlean's.
- Amongst other places of curiosity and in
terest, she was induced by feelings of the
tenderest compassion to look in at the room
- appropriated to the reception of those des.
i titute children, to be examined as their
fitness for the charity of the Orphan
Asylum. Immediately on her entering
f the room, a little girl of about the same
t age as her own lost child, sprung into her
arms, called her mother, and by endearing
caresses, evinced her joy at being restored
as she believed, to her lost parent. On
inquiry, the following facts were elicited
relative to her previous history :
A few hours after the dreadful tornado,
a steamboat landed at Natches, when a
servant girl brought a little girl on hoard,
stating that she had walked out with the
child just before the storm commenced,
and that on her return she found the
house of its parents completely demolish.
ed-she had been looking for her mistress
in every direction, and had almost arrived
at the painful conviction that she- was
buried beneath the ruins.
The chambermaid of the boat offered
to take charge of the child, whilst the girl
returned to make a further search ; and
during her absence the boat started for
New Orleans-the child remaining on
On the return trip every inquiry was
made at Natchez for the family or ser
vant, but nothing could be heard of them.
The child continued on the boat, under
the charge of the chambermaid, until the
captain objected to her remaining on
board.-Then she was placed at an infant
school in New Orleans, the chambermaid
visiting her and defraying her expenses
on each arrival of the boat, until the yel.
low fever deprived the little outcast of
her last friend, the good chambermaid.
The woman who kept the infant school
then turned the child into the street, from
whence she was taken to the room ivhere
she had the happiness of finding a second
mother. The lady whom she believed to
be her mother, determin -to adopt her,
a sincethen s}; d rdll
mess as is truly clibitable
lady beds, that though the little child is
now a fine intelligent girl, of between
twelve and thirteen years of age, and as
sociated with the lady's own children,
both older and younger than herself, she
has not the faintest suspicion of her real
position. She was at the time of her be
ing adopted, about two years old, a very
beautiful and intelligent child, with un
commonly fair complexion, brown hair,
blue eyes, with long black eyelashes.
She had forgotten her own name and
that of her parents, but from her knowing
the names and uses of various articles of
luxury, and speaking of her father's car
riage; and from her entire freedom from
any vulgarism in manner or thought, it is
presumed that her family were respecta
ble. If any reliance could be placed on
the conversation of so young a child, it
might be supposed that her parents were
foreigners-perhaps Scottish, perhaps
It was supposed that her own parents
were dead, but from facts lately elicited
such is probably not the case ; and it is
for thme purpose of gaining information
that the little that is known of her history
is made public. Any one knowing any
thing likely to lead to a discovery of the
orphan's relations is requested to address
Box 328, Mohile, Ala.
And as giving publicity to this notice
may be the means of restoring a child to
a bereaved mother, the writer hopes that
editors throughout the Union will give it
a place in their columns, especially in the
Natchez and Philadelphia papers-New
A Beautifu L.etter.
The following most touching fragment
of a letter from a dying wife to her hus
band was found by him, some months
after her death between the leaves of a re
ligious volume, which she was very fond
of perusing. The letter, which was liter
ally dim with tear-marks, was written
long before the husbanid was aware that
the grasp of a fatal disease had fastened
upon the lovely form of his wvife, who
died at the early age of nineteen:
WVhen this shall reach your eye, dear
G-,some day wvhen you are turning
over the relics of the past, I shall have
passed away for ever, and the cold white
stone wvill be keeping its lonely wvatch
over the lips you have so often pressed,
and the sod will be growing green that
shall hide forever from your sight the
t dust of one wvho has so often nestled close
t to your warm heart. For many long and
j sleepless nights, when all beside my
.thoughts was at rest, I have wrestled wvith
.the consciousness of approaching death,
.until at last it has forced itself upon my
Smind; and although to you and to others
it might now seem but the nervous imagi
nations of a girl, yet, dear G--, it is
s so! Many weary hours have I passed in
k the endeavor to reconcile myself to leaving
a you, whom I love Bo well, and this bright
world of sunshine and beauty; and hard
indeed is it to struggle on silently and
, alone with the sure conviction that I am
k about to leave all forever, and go down
Moano into tho dark valley! "But I know
fin whom I 'b ted," and leaning
upon His arm, ' r no evil." Don't
blame me for lee 'even all this from
you. How con bject you, of all
others, to such as I feel at part
ing, when time soon make it appa.
rent to you! ?
I could have o live, if only to be
at your side w time shall come,
and pillowing yo upon my breast,
wipe the death P from your brow,
and usher your ng spirit into its
Maker's presence; balmed in woman's
holiest prayers. .: is not to be so
and submit. Ye the privilege of
waiting, thron and dreary nights,
for the spirit's fin ht, and of transfer
ring my sinkingh From your breast to
my Saviour's . And you shall
share my last qght; the last faint
pressure of the ha , and the last feeble
kiss shall be you and oven when flesh t
and heart shall h -failed me, my eye I
shall rest on yours lil glazed by death ; r
and our spiritss . hold one last fond t
communion, until tly fading from view a
-the last of ea r-you shall mingle
with the first bri' limpses of the un- a
fading glories of better world, where a
partings are unknoVD. .Well do I know ti
the spot, dear G-4-, where you will lay 3
me; often have w stood by the place,
and as we watc the mellow sunset as ',
it glanced in qi .ing flashes through t
the leaves, and .-iished the grassy t
wounds around uslith stripes of burnish. V
ed gold, each per. ps has thought that h
some one of us d come alone, and V
which ever it migh your name would 0
be on the stone. t we loved the spot; ti
and I know".ou' ove it none the less h
when you see them me quiet sun-light h
linger and play a ong the grass that
rows over your. ,;ry's grave. I know tc
you will go often- ne there, when I am .e
laid there, and my 'rit will be with you it
then, and whispe rough the waving b
branches, "I am t lost, but gone be. ui
From the lington Flag. e
A Tribu -le.pec.
A- meeting of. 'embers of the Bar ,
>f the-sterm . were gpesent.
or the purpose, of expressing their feel- d
ngs in reference to the rumored inten- I
.ion of his-Honor, Judge Evans, to retire
prom the Bench. ti
On motion of Hon. F. J. Moses, E. A. S
Law, Esq., was called to the Chair, and e
. H. Norwood appointed Secretary. fc
Col. Moses then submitted to the meet
ing the following resolutions, which were ir
inaiinously adopted: ri
Whereas, the members composing the u
Bar of the Eastern Circuit, having heard g
with regret common to the whole coun
try, of the proposed retirement of his 'h
lonor, Judge Evans, from the Bench, td
and the members of the bar now hero as- e
sembled, deeply impressed with the great a
loss which the State would experience y
from his resignation of the seat which he ti
hills with so much honor to himself and r
benefit to the community, regard it a like e
duty to themselves, the profession and the d
country to express their views and wishes c
in the following resolutions: h
Resolved, That in the view of this e
meeting, the resignation of his Honor, u
Judge Evans, from the Bench, would be a
a result deeply to be regretted, from the e
eminent services which he is still capable p
of rendering in the judicial department of i
Resolved, That the bar here assembled, r
by a committee of two, to be appointed t
y the Chair, take occasion to express to
to his Honor the high appreciation ins
which they regard him as a Judge and ar
Resolved, That we have witnessed with
high satisfaction the learning, ability,
promptness and courtesy of the Judget
during the present arduous and laborioust
term, and are awakened anew to the loss
the State would experience by his with
drawal from the Bench, while in posses-E
sion of vigorous health and unimpairedE
Resolved, That the bar have assembled, I
to take this occasion to express to his
Honor their ardent hope and wish that
ho will abandon, if any he has, the inten
tion of retiring at the present time.
The chair then appointed Messrs, F. J.
Moses and J. A. Dargan a committee,
under the second resolution.
On the re-assembling of the Court, Col.
Moses- arose, and in a brief but eloquent
and feeling remarks, discharged the duty
which had been assigned the committee
The Judge remarked that ho had had
no intimation of any such proceedings on
the part of the bar, and was unprepared)
to respond to them as lie desired. Ho,
remarked that in the discharge of his du
ties as a Judge, he had always endeavor
ed to do his duty, and that the evidence of
his having succeeded to some extent, was
gratifying: that he had entertained a de
sire to visit foreign countries, and had
thought that in doing so he wvould resign
his seat at the end of the present yoar;
but in the present unsettled state of the
country, it was not Certain that lhe would
do so at that time; that lhe had always
thought after the age of 65, which lie
was approaching, that it was better to
rlinquish to the hands of younger men
the arduous duties of a Judge.
On motion of Col. Moses, it was
Resolved, That the proceedings of thi
meeting be published in the Darlingtoi
Flag, and that the other papers in the
State be requested to copy.
R. A. LAW, Chairman.
J. H. NoRwooD, Secretary.
Hon. A. P. Butler's Letter.
The following letter from Hon. A. P
3UTLER, to the Committee of Invitation
>f the Anti-Secession Celebration, held al
ireenville C. H., on the 4th July, we find
n the Southern Patriot.
GENTLEMEN :-In your communica
ion of the 3d instant, you do me the
tonor to invite me to meet and address
ry fellow-citizens at Greenville C. H., on
be 4th of July, "on the dangers of separ
te State secession." As it will be out
f my power to accept the invitation, I
vail myself of a request in the latter part
f your note, to make a few remarks on
ie great subject that is connected with
I have never thought so much, or felt
intensely, on the situation of our coun
-y, as at this time. Indeed I may say
mat I feel a concern hardly connected
ith myself. The unknown future will
ave its history, and an eventful one it
-ill be. What place South Carolina may
ecupy in it, events must tell. I pray
tat it may be such that wisdom may in
or judgment, approvo the dictates of
Why is it such a deep and solemn
tno pervades the Southern States, and
specially South Carolina, at this time !
has its origin in the wrongs that have
een inflicted on Southern institutions,
ader the power of a majority, and in the
-ceptive palliations of them, that are to
a found in compromises, that were con
ived and consummated to propitiate
etional fanaticism. The crises through
ich we aregassing, will bring to .the
at of. tiveryave quefQue
ated Union, indissoluble, except by the
ill of an interested majority.
Should the Federal Government, prac
cally assume the latter character, the
outh States must be doomed to a degrad.
i subordination. Should it maintain the
irmer character, the parties to the .com
act have their destiny in their own hands
the unqualified right of secession-a
ght that never could be exercised except
pen very grave occasions, and on
rounds and reasons that would find their
istification before the tribunal of a just
story. This, in my opinion, is a right
at should never be exercised without
onsulting the neighbors, whose interests
re to be affected by its consequences.
Vhere common rights are concerned, jus.
cc requires that the means of common
idress should be looked to. The South
rn States are no longer blind to the
angars that beset them. They are he.
oming roused, and agitation cannot be
ushed. The danger to the Southern
ause, heretofore, has been a want of
nion among representatives and public
ien of the South. With such union they
ould have dictated their terms. I quali.
, this last remark by saying they could
ave obtained all that they had a right to
lam-a security of their constitutional
ights. These divisions in the representa
ves in Congress will ense because the
copie of the Southern States will not
upport those whio are untrue to theor
eal interests.-When that change shall
ike place and when Southern politicians
hal be selected, as exponents of the
iopular will, the South will have a poten.
ial attitude to do itself justice in any wvay
hat it may determine on.
The opinion which I have expressed,
and which I shall not repeat, as to the
eprate secession of South Carolina, I
till entertain. Assurances of co-opera.
ion may be made to her ; but until she
Las suech assurances, it is unwise in South
3aroina to advertize her purposes of
vhat she will or wvill not do. Let what
nay be said of the State, South Carolina
as been a vigilant and rebuking sentinel.
know of no State that would sooner
nake the sacrifice of Curtius. But, in
he name of common sense, let it not be
useless sacrifice without fairly looking
o the consequences of exclusively separ
toe State secession.
am, gentlemen, with great respect,
A. P. BUTrLER.
To Messrs. R B. DUNcAN, VAnons
icBEE, B. DUNHAM, and others, Corn
Stonelands, June 28, 1851.
A MAN OF '7.-In the war of tht
revolution, Mr. Henry Peyton of V'irginn
lost three sons. When the intelligenc
was brought to him that his third anc
last son wvas slain, lie wvalked from th<
messenger agonised with grief, but, sud
denly stifling his emotions, he turned ant
"Sir, much as I deplore the loss of in;
poor boy, I would to God I had anothe:
to supply his place, though he likewisi
nerishod in the cause of his country."
dinary rualties, that one which has ena
bled you for so long a period of time,
through the many political epochs in
which you have borne a distinguished
part, to conceal from the Southern mind
your selfish ambition, and your agency
in bringing upon the country so many
fearful evils, is not the least remarkable.
It shows sir, the perfection to which you
have carried the arts of political knavery.
At times ready to offer up the South:as'a
sacrifice, the victim of your ambition to
make yourself popular at the North,
thrice have you by your intrigues for-the
President brought the country to the
verge of civil war.
And notwithstanding your American
system has plundered the South, under,
color of law, of a thousand millions, for.
the benefit of your Northern allies . not
withstanding your " Compromises" have
put in jeopardy fifteen hundred millions
more-notwithstanding your last ".Com
promise" confiscated for your abolition
associates an immense territory, the right
ful property of the South, and 4s-aeon
sequence, the Southern horizon presents
to your gaze now one unbroken:line of
storms, fast thickening into a sweeping
tempest, and with the glare of the light
wing of civil war in your face, still you
have brought upon that Union which you
profess to love so much, and still true to
your instincts, and standing upon .the
brink of the grave, your thirst for power
is yet unappeased.
It may be worth while, sir, to pause
and enquire why you have labored -so
long in vain-why your ambition is' -not
yet gratified, in a country which. offers so
many incentives to honorable exertion?
To all save yourself, the cause. of your
oft-defeated aspirations is no mystery.
Your domineering and tyrannical pro..
pensities are wormwood and gall to thoso,
even who acknowledged you. as. their,
party leader. Not content with being
the leader of a party you cannot stop
short of being its tryant. The party to
whom you have looked for elevation'there
fore refused to place: you in their'power.
Thirsty as many of them-ares fora divi
sion of the spoils; th ae suficied -
the lion'uszhape o porgyi " o
of plunder. The wire-workers ot.you;
political .associates 'compreheud thei-a.
ding traits .of , youranpolitical4haracter.
They became aware,, at~au early; stage
of your career, that ,although-t ;times
ready to "compromise" away.the.rigbts
of others, you are. careful never to ! com
promise" the objects of your ow.ninsa
tiate ambition. The game at which you
have played required a heavy stake. -The
property, the equality, peace and repose
of the South was too much for your
courage when, your political morality
interposed no obstacle to the hazard.
With the desperate spirit of the gambler,
of which you had some conceptions, you
placed the country-the mother that
warmed you into life-upon the board,
played the game, and lost stakes. Won
derful man !-what superhuman powers
of endurance you possess! for you-still
live, with a mountain of political guilt'up
on you. But, -sir, think not youn will
escape forever. " There is .a divinity
which shapes the ends of man," 'andithe
worm that never dies will yet feel the
enduring punishment of offended justice
and violated faith. When the apathy
and delusion which now hangs so heavily
upon the minds of your outraged coOn
trymen shall have passed aiway, I would
not endure for a moment the scorching
sentence of reprobation ich they will
pass upon you, for all the empty honors
you have received, or e ver hoped to~ac
You are still, sir, surrounded by flatter
era, who bold to your lips the cup of a.du
lation, wvhich you so greedily 'quafi., Tt
may be deemed~ indecorous to disturb
your self-complacency and composure, by
selling to. your mind past reminiscences
in your past eventful life, not. so credita
ble to your cha'racter as a statesman as
your best friends might desire. But there
is one portion of the country from which
you claim no title to forbearance,. and I
am not awvaro that the arbitrary runles of
decorum require that your selected: bio
graphers and partizans have alone, the
right to be heard. You must be brought,
sir, to the bar of public opinion, and the
means by wvhich you have inflicted- in
curable wounds upon th~e Constitufion,
and lit up the torch of civil, war,~6mist
be exposed, that your power of ,doing
mischief may be taken from you,and, the
contagion of your example may' e .
to contaminate the young ,,men of o
rising generation. I shall present to the.
public in a series of numbers, dhe adyerse
side of the picture of your. 'publiodife.
The task is not a grateful one, for the
material before me affords ample evidence'
that I shall have more public; vices than
public.virtues to record. 'When the work
is done, the candid man will find it
difficult to- determine whether to -'aecord
to your merit the sentiment of pity or
cotmIhave the honor to be
Your obedient servant
Remember that your thoughts as well
From the Laurensville Herald,
To foury Clay of Kentucky-No. 2
S SIn :-More than forty years of you
11 life have been spent in the public service
a and as a statesman and party leader you;
name has filled no inconsiderable spac<
in the public view. Already your bio.
graphers, emulous of the distinction o:
recording the deeds which have giver
you such an unenviable notoriety, have
entered the arena, and have vied with
each other in the task of pampering your
inordinate vanity spreading upon the his.
torie page, gilded letters of your public
acts. In their efforts to make you Presi
dent, they have given you credit for pa
triotism, which you never possessed, and
a disinterestedness of purpose of which
you never had any conception. They
have deceived the public, as well as
yourself. You are now old sir, and your
career is drawing to a close. The tinsel
with which your partisans have glossed
over a long public career of sul6sh aubi.
tion, cannot much longer conceal from a
wronged and indignant people, whose
rights you have violated, the dangerous
and detestable deformities of your public
character. Soon posterity will demand
more truthful and impartial chroniclers
of the public life and character of a po
litician and Cabinet Minister, who, under
the specious garb of a pretended patriot
ism, has contributed so much to change
the character of the Government, and to
prostrate the Constitution of the country.
When you ehall have disappeared from
the stage of action, those who have min
istered to your ambition and your vanity,
to escape your coarso denunciations, so
derogatory to the American Senate, and
to the rank and character of an American
Senator the hungry expectants who have
fawned upon you, with the hope of pro
fitting by your influence and elevation,
will no longer have a motive to praise
you, or to conceal the vices of your pub.
lie character. Justice and truth will then
demand an exposure of the crimes you
have committed against the Constitution
which you have so often sworn to pre
serve inviolate; and the judgment which
-a cowing age will pronounce n you,
will b-s- en.4ud 'oy
tery could not sustain y
scathing infliction. Southern man and
a slaveholder, your first act in the State
of your adoption, to whose people you
looked for patronage and support, and
among whom you sought a retreat from
poverty and obscurity in your native land,
was an incendiary assault upon its slave
institution, and upon the social political
rights of the South, which you have
since so fatally betrayed, for the purpose
of placing upon your head the Presiden
tial diadem, us the reward of your treach
ery. In the arts of the demagogue,
which abilities of a high order have
enabled you to reduce to a science, you
have distanced all competition, in an age
so fruitful in the production of that dan
gerous and despicable character. An
avowed friend of the abolition of slavery
-a pretended enthusiast in the cause of
liberty-a distinguished disciple of the
incompatible schools of Mirabeau and
Danton-the consistent emancipationist
of the age-a professed republican, and a
pra.tical consolidationist, by your un
equalled skill in the arts of deceit and
dissimulation, like an actor on the stage,
by assuming a costume and a set of prin
ciples adapted to the time, circumstance
and place, you have succeeded to an
unprecedented degree in deceiving a
a confiding people into the belief that
the fictitous part you played was real,
and that you are a patriot and a republi
can. So wvell, sir, have you played the
part of a political maigician, that at the
moment the Constitution is expiring from
the blows you inflicted upon it with your
dagger, you are eloquently pronouncing
eulogiums upon the blessings of freedom,
and at the same moment laying the foun
dations broad and deep, of a consolida
ted despotism, upon the ruins of, republi
can liberty. Unscrupulous about the
means of reaching the object of your am
bition, few statesmen of' modern times
.have combined in one character, so many
elements calculated to inflict incurable
wounds, upon the institutions of the State.
The equal of Cataline iu courage, his
superior in expedient and resource, you
have by your countenance and encour
agement, aidIed, with all the influence of
your example, the incendiaries of the
North, whose leader in the work of eman
cipation you are, to assassinate the pub
lic peace, and who only await your bid
ding, to light up the fires of a servile wvar
And yet your agency in the infernal plot,
by your skill in political legerdemain, i
concealed from public view.
A statesman thus gifted with such ex
traordinary qualities for strategem and
mischief, whose political code impose!
no restraints upon his excesses, and who
upon every great question which has agi
tated the public mind during his wihok
p 1olitical life, has been found advocating
with plausible but untruthful eloquence
-first one side and then the other, and whi
Ihas been consistent only ini his ambitioul
thirst for power, and his ceascless desirE
to see the. abolition of our S5outher:1
r institutions accomplished, could not -fal
a to achieve for himself an unenviable dis
Uinction. And sir. of al1 your extraor