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The Anderson intelligencer. (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, August 14, 1860, Image 1

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Duelling?A Glimpse at the Fast.
It was in October, 1S34, I took the
s$6nmboat at Portland?that peaceful yitl
beautiful city on Casco bay,~now soon, 1
trust, through tlio enterprise of its lead?
ing spirits, to ho connected by raifrbad
" with the Canadian seat of governnjeut?
and after a pleasant passage of a few
hours, landed at Owl's Head, in Twomas
ton. I proceeded immediately to tho
west villago in that flourishing town,
?where tho late Hon. Jonathan Cillcy
then resided., and called on him at his of?
fice. On entering, I found him occupied
with some gentlemen who had called on
business; he saluted me politely, but ob?
serving that he appeared not to recognise
me, (it was not our first meeting.) I read?
ily made myself known, \rhcn he greeted
me in that frank, cordial, whole-souled
manner, which all who had tho pleasure
of his acquaintance well know was so
characteristic of his warm and generous
heart. From his office I went with him
to his house?a neat two story building
of wood, clap-boarded and painted white,
with green blinds?whore, by special in?
vitation, I remained as the humble- but
honored guest of the family several days.
Never .shall i forget that visit. The im?
pressions made on* my? mind daring my
short stay with that excellent family are
among the *plcasantcst of my life. Such
perfect order and harmony, such unaffec?
ted parental and filialaffection?such
words of eonfideuco ami love, and such
acts of kindness?it was indeed a picture
"TJT^iomc.stic-happing "Unwind to be?
hold," and one fraught with he^^Ty^?
st ruction.
Bui pass over a few [short years, and
the scene changed Honored by the con?
fidence and suffrages of his fellow-citi?
zens, with high hopes and buoyant feel?
ings, the distinguished head of this family
quits tho domestic fireside, and lakes his
seat in the councils of tho nation. Tho
confiding wife turns to brush away a tear,
that, unbidden, comes to witness the scene
of parting; but looking upon her two
dear treasures, of whom rdie now finds
herself the solo guardian in his absence,
and reflecting that tho separation is only
for a season, she is comforted. What fol?
lows? Hardly had the opportunity been
afforded him of enrolling his name on
that temple of fame, and laying the su
perstructuro of which Ins noble ancestors
had essentially juded. and on which all
who knew him clearly saw it was des?
tined to occupy a prominent place, when
ho was called to " the field of blood," from
which he was borne away a lifeless corpse!
Of this frightful tragedy Iforbcair.forit'is
uunceecssnry to trace the details." " If
that dark pitfall?that bloody grave?had
not lain in tho midst of his path, whither,
whither, might i! not have led him.!"
Where, now, was the faithful partner of
Ids bosom ? With another bright jewel
added to her charge, she sat patiently at
iomc awaiting his return?fondly pictu?
ring to herself the lively pleasure he
vjQuld experience in finding their little
ciicle enlarged by tho introduction of one
now so precious in her sight. Jir.t all un?
conscious as she was of the dreadful
strdce about to fall upon her, forever
biasing her happiness?nevertheless, may
shohot have had a dim foreshadowing of
it? Certain it is, on the Sunday succeed?
ing he Saturday of the fatal tragedy,
accidentally turning to and reading the
follow ing hymn, t;slje was impressed with
pecular feelings, which induced her to
markit with a pencil:"
Far, fir y>r hill ami ihde, on tlic winds Mealing.
List to ho tolling bell, mournfully polling:
Hak! hnrk! ii seems to say,
As licit those sounds away,
t>i> lie's best joys decay,
Willst ucw their feeling.
Now tlirttgh the charmed air slowly asceu iing,
List to tb mourner's prayer solemnly bending :
Hark bark ! it seems to say,
Turn Vom those joys away,
To time which ne'er decay,
Forjfo is ending.
O'er a fat he's dismal tomb see the orphan licndiiig.
From the oleum church-yard's gloom hear the
llarkl ark! it seems to say,
How slu t ambition's sway,
Life's j<>* ami friendship's ray,
In thehtrk grave ending.
So when our lortal ties death shall dissever,
Lord may wc each the skies, where care conies
And in cUnal day.
Joining th<angel's lay,
To our crctor pay
Homage yrcver.
Alas! thj soul-chilling, heart-rending
news of the tugical dcatli of the husband j
and father wa already on the way. too
soon to place >evond doubt the sad reali?
ty of what s?cmed to have been thus
mysteriously bretokened. It was the
heart of a debate female that was to rc
receive the scv^cst shock, and to one of
hor own sex it was loll tocommuuicate to
her the dreadful tidings by letter, ex?
tracts from which are now before mo :
" Uothing (says the writer) but heart?
felt sympathy could prompt me to this
painful duty. What can 1 say? what!
ought I to say ? In the hour of aiHiction
all earthly consolation fails. But there is
a fountain which is never dry; and yonr
own experience will lead you to it. You
have Pought it.; you have found there the
waters of eternal life; may you now find
its waves bearing you up under the over?
whelming aiHiotion which lias come upon I
you. Remember our Father in Heaven
never willingly a?iictu or grieves his chil?
dren; and what we know not now we
shall know hereafter. * * That pleas?
ant smile that was ever on his face in
now lingers on his marble features. * *
Your little ones were often spoken of by
him; and in that last conversation they
were remembered with all the pride and
affection of a father's heart. * * A
lock of his hair [vain consolation!] is to
be sent you. * * With my love. I will
say adieu; and that God may abundantly ?
comfort and sustain you in this trying J
hour, is the fervent wish of your sympa-1
thixing friend."
Several weeks transpired, when the re?
collection of the above hymn occurring to
the mind of the now desolate and dis?
tracted widow, she was led i<? turn aguin
to it; and that was the hymn which was
sung on the occasion of the solemn eere
emony of committing to their final rest
ing-place in Thomaston the remains of the
noble-hearted Oillcy. As well remarked]
by a writer at the time: "Its appropri-I
?Sletiess to the situation of the widowed t
mid lua rP7r?r}rrnr-<mmnwi<iii?^fc
children will not fail to impress and inter?
est every reader."
I mel Mrs. Cilley but once afterwards? j
I at Portland, in the summer of 183!). She
was on her way, with her children,
rto visit her friends in Xew lfamp
j shire, the former residence of her iate
Miusbaud. She appeared less depressed
than I expected to find her; yet it was
plain to perceive that a fixed melancholy,
an unappeasable sorrow, was slowly but
surely laying waste the already yielding
supports of her existence, Of her. great
and irreparable loss she made nomenlion:
j that was at once told in her care-worn tea
tures, her faltering accents and deep
drawn sighs. She spoko to me of a por
! trait of her dear departed, which some
friends had promised to forward to her.
and which she expressed her anxious de?
sire to obtain. With a sorrowing and
heavy heart. 1 parted from her. k has j
proved, never, on this side of the grave to j
greet her again. {
The following touching lines (by Mrs.
S. F. Woodltuil) on her death, which look j
place on the loth of OcTober last, may he j
hevo introduced as the (hushing stroke to j
this sad picture:
??We'velain her in the tomb
Beside her young heart's idul. There she ulccps
In calm, mill beautiful, ami sweet repose,
tier patient soul wrestling with griefuo moro.
"V.'c, who have seen
Her slight ami tender form bcn<l to the blast
That swept so fearfully across hoi-path,
Bearing away her brightest earthly hopes,
.May now rejoice die Imlli found a hmuc
So calm and pure. Vi t, to see those orphans
Take their last look?ah! 'twas ti touching scetic.
Well might they weep and cling to the lov'd form
That even in death still wore a mother's smile.
That smile to them was doubly beautiful,
And dear thuic lips which ne'er could bless iheni
"As death approached thesufferer, 'twas said
Her young-.-sl dove muriuurc 1 in l!uto?iikc tones,
Mournful and low, 4 .Ye have nu father, *.;.a
We shall no mother.' Kur when her eye
First saw the light her father stood among'
The nation's council, but she never looked
L"i>oii his face; nov did he return to
How bright a gem was that winch graced his home.
Methinks had he but seen that sweet young face,
Sic would have paused?ay, sternly braved the
Of a proud world; and conscience, reason, truth
And love had triumphed nobly o'urfalac howr.
God shield thee, daughter dear, with him* who
Afar, now all unconscious of hi- loss,
And the young brother by thy side. Ye have
The promise, iiiud it to your hearts."
*A brother, midshipman in the n-ivy.
Yes! the picture is complete; let us
pause and look upon i; ! Where are your
iron-hearted, your stern, mbending advo?
cates and upholders of the "bloody code'/ '
Bring them along, and let them, too, con?
template, it 4 --ay. but they tuu.M not be
permitted to tarn aside, and :?:?<! their
hearts anew against the iniiuence it
should exert?the lesson ii so plainly i?
cnlcates. Behold the pain. Iheagoiiy.the
?lesolation your lauded "codi of honor"
hath wrought ! Ye w!:<>. it: the tumult of
political strife and lite whirl of excite?
ment, hesitate not to mock your Maker
by impiously trampling upon His man?
dates, pause one mon cut an 1 look upon
this picture. It is no fancy sketch; would
to lloavcn it were' How :.;s;ci. pain, and
sorrow, and distress?:how many days of
pining and lamentation, and !n?w many
nights of unuttorablc woe had been
avoided! No! it is a sad reality. Let
tiio.se contemplate it with composure who
Capitol JTir.r,, .D. C.
Tub Value or Tjmk.?The Roman Em
perorsaid: "] have lost a day." lie ut?
tered a sadder truth than if he had said.
'? I have lo>t a kingdom."
Napoleon said that thcreason why he
I beat the Austrians was that they did ii":
know the value of five minutes. At l!:e
celebrated battle of Ih'voli tho conflict
seemed on the point of being decided
against him. lie saw the critical state of!
affairs, and instantly took his resolution.
Jlc despatched a. Hag to the Austrian gen?
eral's headquarters wdthfjuop^als for an
armistice. The unwary Austrian fell into
the snare, and forafew moments tho thun?
ders of battle Were hushed.. Ivapoloon
seised the precious ummeuts, and, while
amusing the enemy with mock negotia?
tions, rearranged bi< line of buttle; changed
his front, and in a few minutes ;vas ready
to renounce the farce of discussion for the
stern arbitrament of arms. The splendid
victory of Kivoli was the result.
The greal moral victories and defeats
of the world often turn on minutes. Cri?
ses come, the seb'.uro oji^vhich is victory,
the neglect of winches"nibi. Musi may
loiter, but time and life fH'/s on the I
winga of time, and all tho great interests
of time are speeding on with the sure and j
silent tread of destiny. The road to hell j
"i-i puved with good Intentions." Did wo
but do to-day the good which we propose j
to do lo-inorrow; how changed would bo ;
fa'-c of" worin : v.hal groaning*
and waitings over sin would instantly beat
upon our st.-irlled ears! What splendid
scliemcs of benevolence would instantly \
start into consummation ! lint to-morrow j
'comesand finds us even more unprepared
for the purposed reformation th.an yester?
day; and "thus on till wisdom is pushed
out of life." Seize the preseiiJL; do-to-day j
tlic posoiblu g,M"J of i*tQy;, an ! then to?
morrow will bring botTi*-a larger field of
action and a richer moral preparation, and
lifo Aviil advance on :? perpetually ascend- ^
ing scale o|^ beneficence and happiness. j
Know moukthan voi" Tkaoh.?In order I
that a teacher may be competent lo his
di ties, he should qualify himself, a s w< !i I
as prepare hi:, lesson; lie should endeavor j
io be up in the subjects which !?.?? teaches.
Me should endeavor to acquire a pretty
full knowledge of ail which can illustrate
and throw light upon (hem. I would lay
it down as an ail-important maxim, that
f.l;e teacher should f:m?c much more (ban
he .'(?.'.lie should not feel, when v\ ii h
his class, that he is working up to hi., lull
power; that another draft upon his men?
tal capital. i'i the form of an inquiry
from an intelligent scholar, would meet an
empty exchequer, and must he dishonored
because-there are "no effects." Iiis ship
I should sa-il with plenty of sea-worn or:
each side, with greater depth of water
l hau she dra >vs. ami with unc sails which
rare reefed; the crew should have sonic
. what more bread and water than Would
-I-? ct>rratttiitrl ?mi <!:?.- u\vI<i.-.;<? j.:il-s'', Utld
the captain should know the lights and
the soundings of the coast a little north
and south of the destined harbor. As a
travi ier !:<? should not creep along I he nar?
row \ alleys in which he can only j::s; trace
liis path ivJoru him. am! bis view ??? eon
fincd on cither s;d?*; I'ms shonhl endeavor
to climb ihe heights from which a wider
prosp-jet is visible, am! his past and future
route is plainly lo bo traced. And if h
catch a glimpse of the land, which is very
far of!', now and then through Ilm mists
which surrounded it.he will be cheered in
his onward way.
-o -
Woman*.?Oh! the priceless value of the
love of a true woman ! (iold cauimf pur?
chase a gem so rare. Titles and honors
??confer upon the heart ncstmh ser< ite hap
piness. In our darkesl :no:ne:i; ;. when
disappointment and ingratitude. with cofj
l'odiftg care gathers thick around amr
even gaunt jjoverty menaces with hin
skeleton fingers, if gleams around the soul
with an angel's smile. Time eanmd ?lim
its brilliancy, but strengthens i;- influ
nce; bolts and bars cannot limii its pro?
gress?i: follows i he pris ,!??!? hvh - his dark
and lonely cell, and swe?. tens ;':?? homely
morsel I hat appeases his hunger, and in
; hia dreams be folds lo hi bo.--oni (be Ibrm
? r?f jjyr who loves on still, though the world
. has turned coldly <?;: him; The couch
; made by the hands <?!' a i- .? : one u soil
['to the weary iiiubs of the sultering. and
che potion adniinistcred by the same hand
loses half its bitterness. The pillow caiv
! fully adjusted by lu :? ! rings repose tt) the
feyer'sh brain.:and 1. ?? v:h ? of kind en
coura *'iaeuf iv*"ive f sink''!1?' silirit. 11
iaiuiost seems that trod, companioning
jwomati's first great frailty, had implanted
this jewel in her breast, whose heavenliko
interest should cast into forgetfulness
man's remembrance of the (all. by build?
ing up in his heart another Kden. where :
perennial flowers forever bloom and crys?
tal waters gush from exhaustions foun?
Mammoth Cave in Missouri,
A great natural curiosity has latch"
been discovered in Missouri, \Vhieh bids
fair to rival the great Kentucky cave.
The following description of it is givenin
the Jefferson City Examiner:
The cave is in Phetps county, one and
thrce quarters of a mile from the Gasco?
nade river, on a creek called Cave Spring
( creek, in township b'S. section :Jl. range 9,
west. We went into the cave, guided by
Mr. II. If. Prowett, a You.'!.;;' man about
twenty-five years old, who was born and
raised about a quarter of a mile from tliis
place. Ju front of the entrance was a
small stone house, which Ihe old settlers
thought \vas built by the Indians, but now
in ruins. The entrance goes straight in
the rock on a level with a surrounding
! surface rock, is about one hundred feet
Wide, and in the centre, about twenty
five feel high, arched.
Messrs. i'riede and Prewctt entered the
cave tor nearly four hundred feet, where
it narrows to about twenty-five wide by
fivofeet high,and presentsthe appearance
of an ante chamber; from I hero they
passed into a large chamber about one
hundred feet in height, where the three
galleries branch off?t hey then pa v I into
the I'it gallery, which ascends nearly
twenty feet on a bed of snltpetrjj, Thfct
gallery is cull'd t!i&.lis-jTf'Ku?.\i?er. and is
about 50t'?fi^#i*tnle!tgth; the height va?
ries froi.vfoti to about SO feet. The ceil?
ing andjsides are composed of solid rock.
Near tf?e end is :v largo round chamber,
which Mr. l'rewi U calls the Kail-room.
Ail*r. exploring the '!:::!::!>.?:?, they 1*0
tmced t^ucsleps, and passed in thorighl
branch?or fork?of cave, where they !
aseend a rise^jf rl^t twelve [bet. and
entered another gallery, the end o ivToelT
is not known. They, however, explored
it about three (pun ters of a mile. Mr.
Prewott states that ho has been in this
gallery over two miles, and did nol then
get to the end of it. J'i lid.: gallery the
dropping of water has forme 1 stalactites
of the most beautiful cone 'pilona?statues
of men and animals, and huge columns,
supporting the mosl beautiful arches.
?Von: the ceiling, which is from fifty t"
one hundred feel high, which forms seve?
ral chambers of various sizes. The ceil?
ing is deorstted with dim-rent groups of
spar, forming a variety of figures, which
represeni the inside of a caiiudrai. The
size of some of fliese chambers i.-- aboul
forty feof wide by one hundred lect high,
jiisd look like rooms hi souse old feudal
They were afraid their lights would
give out. therefore retraced their steps to
the main chamber, from which they as
i ended to the middle gallery, win re a
large stream of dear water issues Prom
the interior of the cave, ami has a fail of
about six feet, and fails in several largo
round ba<ins. The water has a pleasant
ami Hows all the y< ur rout:.!, wilh
out variation, in sislih ieni volume to drive
a mill. They ascended the ,^:dl... !? s: and
found themselves in sever:'! beautiful
chambers leading from one to the other,
::? vvhii-h. however, thty did not penc
;rate lo iiiore than tUi'J feel. There i; a
strotfg drall of air setting in from the en?
trance; inside of tiie cave the atmosphere
w ?? mild. The -chain hers are all of unu
-ual heigh I and extent. They went in at
one o'clock, and emerged from the cave
at half-past three.
Amid the wildest, as amid She most ge?
nial scetn ?; of primeya! limes, (he rede a!
t?:.'? and the sax-red grove alike marked
i the emotions which nature awakened i";
: lite savage hreast. In ages of civiiizatloii
an.! refiucmeni the columns of the temple
and the stilinoss of a Sabbath morn tell
of the union of devotional sentiment with
a sensibility to sur/oiindiug scent ?. Ku
doWed with sentiment, the objects in nu
i uro ei j,.-.- every win re significant ut* the
invisible power of some beneficent Iking,
in the contemplation of whe n- aUribm.es
the nobles! and finest feeling? of the soul
cad d lorth. awakening to virtue the
}:::isfoft he heart.
in everv great circumstance of life sen?
sibility animal ? and incites to uobi !
viriuott.- action, al all times pi impllng its
an early susceptibility to impr.
:!:.?: siieni of a -sensitive mind,
i !:? ??!.-;>>i:~i?." we re;urn lo ;!;?' iii'st aim
noblest sentiment: of oar nature, yielding
to the scere! :-:;!::-:.>??? of the gentler feel
higs of the heart., i: !pressed or: eVi ry fore
irtf varied life. As a; tho silent close of
day the wandoring dove returns io native
j skies, the evening of life sends us back Lo
! familiar scenes, and tho weight of years
j falls from us a garment in tho exercise af
fordod the finer feelings of Uie hear;, alike
tho incentive and guide to exalted action.
When Xerxes at the Hellespont sunned I
from a marble throne the largest force j
ever assembled in the world, he was
move'! wills feelings of pride and pleasure
at the sigh I of such a vast assemblage of
I men beneath his command. But when lie
reflected that in a loss period than a hun?
dred years, that mighty host , covering the
earth around and crowding the sea with
vessels, would pass'away from the earth,
1 his heart was filled with sadness, and he
wept. The unfortunate Queen of .Scots
when summoned to her place of ex?
ecution, beheld the executioners and all
the preparations of death with a se
' renity and composure of countenance
I hat awed the spectators and bade de?
fiance to law. The moral sensibilities
I of her nature were roused, which gave
her that firmncssand fixedness of purpose
in an action-that will be regarded with
interest ami emotion as long as die human
heart shall beat with human feeling The
principles of religion and virtue, impressed
through maternal interest and affectiou
upon the minds of our Adams and our
- Washington, constituted the solid basis of
i tho characters which .they maintained
, through all the trying vicissitudes of their
eventful fives.
That sensibility of principle and honor,
so predominant in .tho mind '?tf woman.
'? has evcTprompted and encouraged her to
the acquisition and display of the highest
j qualidt s; and to the exertion of an influ?
ence in society that will he felt and ac?
knowledged down to the latest period of
lime, it is this noble and gentler impulse
of heart that has preserved the student
and the statesman through all ages in the
line of duty, alike the path of safety and
i the way to fame. Fortunate, th.cn, arc
they who have received from nature this
"rrrrrrl They ought^Jjgiously to
preserve and cherish it, even though in
imagination it may be said to he employed
when the sigh of real misery is hushed
and its generous hand not needed.
?? for well, ihiis gifictL nuyr they bear the thrill
Of social sorrow nu?l ideal wroug?
Tho .Kolir.u harp thai heaven's i lire brvazes iTJ,
Must breathe at liiacd a htelauchuly song."
Preparation for Public Speaking.
J dwell upon the subject at present in
order to illustrate the necessity of full
preparation and of written composition
to those who would attain real excellence
i:. lite rhetorical art. In truth, a certain
proficiency in public speaking may be ac?
quired bvanv one who (hoses often to
Irv it. and can harden himself against the
I ain of frequent failures. If he i- a per?
son of no capacity, his speeches will be
verv bad; but even though lie be a man
of ircnius, they will not he eloquent. A
sensible remark or a fine image may oc?
cur; hut the loose, and slovenly, and
poor diction, the want of art in combining
and disjxtsing of bis ideas, the inability to
bring out many of his thoughts, and the
incoinpoteney to present any of them in
the besl and most efficient form, will re?
duce llm speaker t.< the level of an ordi?
nary talker. Jlis diction is sure to !??
clumsy, incorrect, unlimited in quantity,
and of no value. Such a speaker is nev?
er in wan' of :i ?word. and hardly ever has
one that is worth hearing, it i- a com?
mon error to call this natural eloquence;
it is the reverse; it is neither natural or
eloquent. A person under the influence
of strong feelings or passions, pouring
forth all that tills hi-, mind, produces a
powerful effect on his hearers, and often
at tains without any art the highest beau?
ties of rhetoric. The language of the
passions flows easily, but is concise and
simple, and the very opposite of the word?
iness just described. Tho untrained
speaker who is also unpracticed. and ut?
ters aceor ling to the du tales of his feel?
ing:', now and then succeeds perfectly,
but in these rare instances he would not
be the less successful for having studied
the art, while that study wo?I?Venablo
him to succeed equally in all he delivers,
and would give hint the same control
over the feelings of others, whatever
miii'ht be lb ? ??tale of his o wn. Herein,
indeed, comists the value ??f the study ;
k enables him to do at times what na?
ture oulv te.iidit-s ou rarc occasions. 2\0r
is t here a better corrective of the faults
ern thn -; titan the hahuitu! eoniempla
[\tlii et" ancient mode!-'; more especially
eat?????: of ail mistake.- to fancy that even
caretuiiv i ivnared passage cannot be
considerable speaker himself. Lord Mel
bourucj who at once undertook to point
out t!i!.- passages which had been pre?
pared, and those which were given off?
hand and at the inspiration of the mo?
ment. He was wrong in almost every
guess lie made. Lord Dennianon a more
remarkable occasion at the bar of the
House of Lords, in the Queen's case,
made the same mistake npon the passago
delivered beftfre the adjournment in tho
middle of the first day of the defence.
The objection made that prepared passa?
ges arc artificial and disclose the prepara?
tion, is wholly groundless. In the first
pla.ee. nothing can be more artificial than
a speech in almost all cases necessarily bo
that is anything beyond mere conversa?
tion. Xcxt it is the manner. urji^jvgiiTjs??
stance which is prepared j and finally, if
the art used is shown and not concealed,
the artist alone is in fault.
[Z<W Brovfjham.
Randolph of Eoanoko.
If Lord Byron was "prouder ofjiotnga
descendant of those Byrons who accom?
panied William the Conqueror into Eng?
land, than of having been the author of
(.'bilde Harold and Manfred," John Ran?
dolph was certainly prouder of being a
descendant of Pocahontas than of all his
Congressional speeches, diplomatic papers,
and conversational repartees, lie first
saw the light at Cawsons. the estate of his
maternal grandfather, Col. Eland, Prince
Gfcorgc County. Virginia; was noV^u^*^
|"pc?re. the essays of Addi- on and the fairy
legendary tales of any author who hap
pond to fall in his way; received his edu?
cation at Princctown, Columbia and "Wil?
liam and Mary College, and then took to
reading Coke and Blackrtonc with his un?
cle, Edward Randolph, in Philadelphia.
In 1794 he returned to les native State,
and in 171)9 was a candidate of the Repub?
lican party for Congress, in the Charlotto
district, and spoke at the hustings in op?
position to a speech of Patrick Henry,
who was the Federal candidate for tho
State Legislature. Beth were successful.
"Sow fairly launched ujjon the sea of
polities. Paral'dph v:< i<> hold his.
place in the National House o? r"5 pfe^n^^i
ta lives fur twenty-four out of the next
thirty years.
Upon his eccentricities as a statesman,
his fierce and often repealed assaults upon
the gentlemen 5n the opposition," his
bitter retorts, his attacks upon "Mr.
Speaker," and especially tho unprovoked
and flagrant Insult which it was feared
would result in a ball in Mr. Speaker's
side, it is not our purpose to linger. Of
no other man in the country, save Wash?
ington, are so many anecdotes current;
no man's witty retorts arc so often re?
peated or so weir remembered. In a cir?
cle of convivial friends we might perhaps
vent are to recite some of these sayings,
trusting to the ignorance or forgetfulness
of some of the company, and the charita?
ble silence of the more intelligent or more
retentive; but to write out a catalogue of
familiar hott mots for the public, with tho
prospective risk of toiling at each turn a
thrice-told tale, requires a larger amount
of courage than we can conveniently com?
Randolph was opposed to the embargo,
the war of is 12. the Missouri Compromise
of 1820, and the Greek sympathy resoJa?-*^
In he took his leave of Congress,
refusing to permit his name to be used in
the ensuing election; but soon afterwards
we find him actively engaged as a mem?
ber of the Virginia Convei tion for the
revision of the Stale Constitution, and in
this body he made one of the most famous
speeches (for future amendments) of Ids
public life.
In the next year (1830) he accepted tho
mission to JIi!Jsia: but finding the climate
unsuited to his health, he returned homo
in October, 1831. In the hope of restora?
tion he determined to try another voyage
to England; but it was not :;so written;*'
\il< disease increased in violence, alter
starting for the place of embarkation, and
he breathed his last at Philadelphia, on
the 19th of May. 1S32, in the Congress*
Hall Hotel, at Third and Chesmit ?rectal
There were some interesting circum-]
stances connected with his last moment
narrated to us by one who watched by Ids
bedside during the " inevitable hour," but
upou this we shall not linger. He died,
we doubt not. in the full belief of those
^reat truths of Christianity which, altera
drean experience of the chilling "soph?
isms of infidelity," he had cordially em
br:.1. when his reasoning r ?weis were
;?! their prime.?FhIU. Enquirer.
?Hello. Bill; lend me five dollars!"
?? You're mistaken in your man, sir. I'm
not a five dollar Bill!."
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