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Glasgow weekly times. (Glasgow, Mo.) 1848-1861, October 05, 1848, Image 1

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Volume O. WLASGOW, MISSOURI, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 3, 1818. Number 31.
5ih. Gen. Zachary Taylor, our honored
guest. Great in his incorruptible honesty;
strong in his inflexible firmness-; invincible
in his steady independence; as n soldier, de
liberate and cool in action, wise in council,
end a successful conquerer; a man who has
dono his whole duty as a citizen and as a
A sentiment by ihe ladies of Pass Christian:
Gen. Taylor Husband, father, friend;
gentleman, warrior, Christian. The fiee
women of our land will bear him on their
hearts to the highest seats of honor, giving
to the world their appreciation of a man.
It is with emotions of no ordinary em
barrassment, Mr. Speaker, that I find myself
called upon to respond to the cordial recep
tion with which I have just been met by the
authorities of Pass Christian, and the citi
zens of Harrison county. I cannot indeed
expect to do justice to the occasion, and
feel especially less able to offer in adequate
terms my acknowledgements for the very
flattering language in which this greeting
has been tendered by the talented citizen
who has just addressed me. I cun only,
therefore, offer you my warmest thanks,
and assure you that the style of my reception
here is particularly grateful to my feelings.
This simple and republican maner of meet
ing my fellow-citizens carries me back to
the pleasant scenes of my early life I was
reared from infancy to early manhood in
the West among men of the most primi
tive tastes and republican simplicity, we
there frequently met on occasions like this,
to exchange freely our opinions on National
and State affairs, and to devise measures for
the defence of our borders, which at that
day the General government was sometimes
unable to protect. On these occasions were
often collected, too, those men of lion hearts
and iron nerves who had not only aided the
Father of our Country in achieving our
independence, and stood by his side in
many of his hard fought battles, but who
afterwards filled, Willi honor to our coun
try, conspicious places in our legislative
bodies, both National and State. I have
been educated in the simple and republican
habits so happily illustrated in this scene,
ond do not expect to change them in my
old days. You will then understand me
when I assure you again, that the manner
of my reception here is moro agrpeable to
my feelings and tastes than could be all the
pomp and pageantry of a recepiion ut the
most splendid Court of Europe.
The complimentary lanjjuago in whicli
you have been pleased to allude to my mil!
lary scvices, which now embrace a period
of more than forty years, and especially to
the actions in which 1 have been engaged
during that time, commencing wilh the de
fence of Fort Harrison, in 1812. and en
ding with the battle of Bucna Vista, has
awakened within me the most grateful emo
tions, I feel particularly gratified at the just
tribute of praise which you have paid, in
speaking of these services, to the gallan
men whom 1 commanded on those occasions
and to whom I feel deeply indebted for ou
success. I claim nothing save the good for
tune of being tho leader of such men on the
occasions referred to; and to iheir zeal
sustaining me, and to iheir bold hearts and
strong arms, arc we indebted for our vie
tories. The manner in which you have al
luded to my being stripped of my troops on
iho Rio Grande, and to my being left, as
might seem, at the mercy of the enemy, just
before the battle of Buena Vista, renders
proper, probably, that I should make a fc
remarks in relation to that matter. I rece
ved at Victoria, while on my way to Tain
pico a movemcut which I had advised th
War Department, I should make for certain
reasons an order from the Geneial-in-chief
of the army, stripping me of the greater
portion of my command, and particularly
of regular troops and volunteers well in
structed. This order was received by me
wilh much surprise, and, I must confess,
produced the strongest feelings of regret,
mortification and disappointment, as I knew
that Gen. Srnta Anna was within striking
distance of my line, wilh on army of 25,
000, probably the best appointed men ever
collected in Mexico. After putting most of
the troops then with me at Victoria enroute
for Tampico the larger portion ot Hie
commands at Monterey and Sallillo, having
been already withdrawn for the same ulti
mate destination I was instructed to re
turn to the former place, where it was ex
pected I would remain on the defensive,
wilh the small torce men under my orders
A few days after reaching that point 1
learned that the greatest alarm prevailed
amors the advance at Sallillo, in conse
niiencc of the capture al Encarnacion of
Majors Boiland and Gaines, with their par
ty of about eighty picked men from the Ar
kansas and Kentucky cavalry followed a
few days afterwards by tho capture of a de
tachment of picked men under Capt. Heady
also of the Kentucky cavalry.
About the same time I received a com
munication from Gen. Wool, then comman
ding al Sallillo, urging ina to join him wilh
all the troops at my disposal, staling that
Gen. Santa Anna was at least preparing, if
lie was not already en route, to strike a
blow at Sallillo! I immediately joined
en. Wool with 700 or 800 men, and a few
ays afterwards concentrated all the troops
which were generally encamped by regi
ments, and took my position al Agua Nue
vo, in order that all the officers might be
come Letter acquainted with each other
nd Iheir duty, and that generally a more
horough system of discipline and inslruc-
on could be adopted to prepare all hands
for service. While here I was advised by
the War Department and the General-in-Chief
to occupy Monterey. This advice
believed then, as I do now, was given at
aznrd, and in ignorance of my situation,
f that of the enemy, and of the country
declined to adopt it, and determined to
glit tho Mexican General immediately af
ter lie crossed the desert country which lay
ust in my front, and before he could have
me to refresh .and reorganize his army,
which I knew would be much worn out
nd disordered by a march of 150 miles
across this desert without sufficient provis
ions and supplies, and with a great scarcity
f water. In this determination, so far as
know, I was most cordially sustained by
the officers of my command. About two
weeks after taking my position at Agua
Nueva, it was ascertained by my advanced
parlies that Santa Anna was at hand with
his army. We then fell back to Buena Vis
to a ranch some six miles in front of Sallillo,
where we took up a strong position, and
where we could easily communicate with
our depot in the latter place. Upon this
ground I determined to give battle. The
nemy arrived in our front on the morning
f the 22d, and summoned me to surrender
discretion about 1 o'clock of the same
day. The summons was declined, and about
4 o'clock on that day the battle of Buena
Vista commenced. Tho result of that affair
is known to you all, and I shall not, there
fore, trouble you with its details. All tried
to discharge their duty to their country on
that occasion, and some even did more than
heir duty. It would then, perhaps, be in
vidiotis to draw comparisons, but I must be
permitted to say that, led on by their distin
guished commander, the gallant Mississippi
Volunteers, of whom you have just spoken
so highly and justly, performed well their
part. They were the only volunteers with
me vho had met tho enemy before having
acted as would become veteran troops in
the conflicts about Monterey. I therefore
calculated much upon iheir assistance on
that eventful day, and I am happy here to
say that my expectations were fully reali
zed. Their ranks thinned by the enemy's
bullets are much more conclusive as lo their
good couduct than anything that I could
now say.
The battle af Buena Vista, under the cir
not harm them. For my own part, I am
satisfied to believe that it was all the result
of accident rather than design on their
In conclusion; I beg to return to you, to
my fellow-citizens of Harrison county,
and particularly to my fair countrywomen
here assembled, my heartfelt thanks for the
cordial reception which they have this day
extended to me.
Thou Art bearing hence thy rosea,
Chid Summer, faro the well!
Thou'rt singing thy last melodies.
In every wood and dell.
But in the golden sunset
Of iheir Idlest lingering day,
Oh! tell me o'er this chequered earth
How thou hast passed away.
Brightly, sweet Summei! biiglilly
Thine hours have floated by,
To the joyous birds ol the woodland boughs,
The rangers of the sky:
And brightly in (he forests
To (he wild deer bounding tree;
And brightly midst the garden flowers,
To the happy murmuring bee.
But how to human bosoms
With all their hopes and Tears;
And thoughts that made them eagle wings
To pearce the unborn years?
Sweet Summei! to the captive
Thou bast flown in burning dreams
Of the woods, wilh their hopes and leaves,
And the blue tejoicing streams;
To the wasted and the weary,
On l ha bed of sickness bound;
In sweet, delicious fantasies,
That changed with every sound;
Te the sailor on the billows,
In longings wild and vain
For the gu.-hing founts end bieezy hills,
And the home of earth again.
And unto me, glad Summer!
How hast thou flown to me?
My chainless footsteps nought have kept
From thy haunts of song and glee.
Thou hast flown in wayward visions,
In memories of the dead
In shadows from a troubled heart,
O'er a sunny pathway shed;
In brief nnd sudden striving',
To fling a weight aside:
'Mid.-l these thy melodies have ceased,
And all thy roses died!
But oh! thou gentle Summer!
If I greet thy flowers once more,
Bring me again thy buoyancy,
Wherewith my soul should soar!
Give me to hail thy sunshine
With song and spirit free;
Or in a purer land than this
May our next meeting be!
cumslances under which it was fought, was
one of the most trying occasions in which a
soldier can be placed. I may say indeed
thai I fought the battle with a halter abou
my neck. I had been advised to fall back
and occupy Monterey, which as I before
staled, 1 declined, and had I been unsuccess
ful this advice would have been brought up
in judgement against me. I declined, that
advice because I believed the result would
have been as disastrous as a defeat. Had 1
fallen back lo Monterey, the whole coun
try about me, upon which I was greatly de
pendent for forage, would have flown to
arms. Once confined in Monterey, th
volunteers, to say nothing of ihe effects of
ihe retreat upon them, would have become
sickly and dispirited, and deprived of a
means of obtaining supplies, and particu
larly forage, I should not have had a dra
goon or artillery horse in my command,
and would therefore have been compelled
ultimately to surrender, unless the seige
could have been raised by the return of
Gen. Scott from Vera Crux with the
troops, under his command.
The battle of Uuena vistawas iougni
on our side by about 450 regular troops
and something upwards of 4000 volun
teers, while they were opposed by al least
20,000 of the enemy; and had we lost ihe
day, I feel that the whole responsibility
of the misfortune would have fallen upon
my shoulders. Yet I do not wish here to
censure those who placed us in that criti
cal situation: whether they deserve blame
or not, I leave for others to determine.
Those who had control over my fate in
this transaction may have friends here
pteient, in whose good opinion I would
For the Glasgow Weekly Times
Seventy-two years ago, in a then 'quiet
and obscure city of one of our Provinces,
there was assetnblad a body of Whigs,
charged wilh deliberating on subjects in
volving issues of no less magnitude, than
the destiny of a Nation. Deeply imbued
wilh the spirit of liberty, and smarting un
der the wrongs and insults to which a cru
el and heartless Sovereign had subjected
them, these Patriots of '70, resolved " to
know their rights, and knowing, dare main
tain them." Embodying in themselves the
sentiments of the Whigs of the different
colonies, they delertnined faithfully to re
fleet these sentiments, even though their
avowal should cost them iheir lives, and
accordingly, with a prayer upon iheir lips
invoking the God of justice and of battles
to sanctify the deed, they boldly burst the
fetters which the tyrant had forged for
them, and proclaimed their country "free
and independent" of discrown! The mor
al sublimity and beneficient results of this
Declaration of Independence find no par
allel in the history of Nations.
. And yet not unlike the Whig Convention
of 1770 in many respects, was the Whig
Convention of 1848. Called together in
the same city, by the same love of liberty
which swelled the bosoms of their patriot
ic predecessors; groaning like them unde
the mal-administration of a government
professedly instituted for the good of all
but wantonly prostituted to subserve the
interests of party; beholding the fountains
of justice corrupted, the constitution bro
ken, the public treasure squandered, th
will of the people contemned, the rights o
the private citizen infringed; after rallying
like their fathers, in ihe sternness of patri
otism to correct these abuses, but like them
also in the moment of their keenest an
guish, beholding their efforts in the unequal
struggle utterly hopeless; and, when the last
ray of hope seemed to have gone out, fall
ing back on that indomitable Whig spirit
of '76, which defeat cannot crush nor des
pair overwhelm, this patriotic body respon
ded to the will of the Nation by proclaim
ing a second Declaration of Independence rally.
scarcely less glorious than the former, and
in selecting a Captain who has never known
defeat, to lead the mighty hosts of freedom
to victory and to glory I The shrill tones
of the Whig Clarion went forth from Phil
adelphia announcing the name of the great
and good Taylor, as the standard-bearer of
EXECUTIVE REFORM in the approach
ing contest. This annunciation carried
joy to the hearts of the free and liberal of
all parlies, sections and factions.
It is needless for us to say anything here
in praise of Zachary Taylor. His brill
iant achievements in Mexico, which, while
they shed additional lustre on the Ameri
can arms, "are the least of his praises; his
unaffected modesty, which is always the
accompainament of true greatness; his ac
knowledged bravery, which is only equall
ed by the gentleness of hisnature; his inde
fatigable zeal in the service of his country
in whatever situation he has been placed;
his great common sense, his patience in
the most trying scenes, his jealous obedience
to law, his inflexible honesty and the sound
ness of his political views, have already
stamped him as one "on whom every good
heart hath set his seal to give the world as
surance of a man." These qualities have
rendered him in the hearts of his country
men second only to Washington, whom in
the simplicity of his character, as well as
in important services he so much resembles.
As a suitable aid to the gallant old hero
of the Rio Grande, the Whigs presented
the name of MILLARD FILLMORE, of
New York, a candidate for Vice President.
The name of Fillmore, the man who has
arisen from the humble but honorable sta
tion of a wool-carder to that of a great
man, is familiar to every one. His father
being too poor to educate him, placed him
whilst quite young as an apprentice with
a wool-carder, during which lime he avail
ed himself of his leisure hours, he devoted
to study, and by that means obtained edu
cation. At the age of nineteen he bought
the time which he had yet to serve as an
apprentice, studied law, afterwards served
is State in the legislutuJe, was sent to Con
gress and now fills the office of Comptrol-
er of the state of New York. He is a ju.
net of extensive acquirements; a scholar
f great erudition; a gentleman of exalted
hnracter; and a statesman of sound elevated
iews. In every station which he has fill
ed, he has proven himself to be "honest, ca
able and faithful." Struggling from his
earliest boy-hood wilh so many difficulties
e has arisen by his own exertions to the
pinnacle of true greatness, and now enjoys
the esteem, the confidence and the love of
all who know him. Truly may he be call
ed the 'Peoples' Candidate.'
Such are the candidates selected to bear
aloft that banner on whose ample folds are
nscribedthe well known principles of a
parly seeking, as a primary object, to in
TY and to diminish EXECUTIVE POW
ER, "already increased and increasing to
an alarming extent;" and, as secondary to
hat, to secure to the people a guaranty
that their will shall be faithfully reflected
and carried out by Congress and the Ex
ecutive on all questions relating to the cur
rency, the tariff, internal improvements, &c
On the other hand our Democratic friends
have presented a candidate in the person
of Gen. Cass, who may be supposed to era
body the views of his party, which claims
"to the victors belong the spoils," and which
advocates a policy subversive of our best
and dearest interests and tending to
strengthen the power of tho President as
the will of the people is crippled. The
principles of the two candidates are whol
ly dissimilar. Iho one is a conservative
whilst tho other is a radical democrat; the
one holds the veto as a ''high conservative
MicsioUri," under
whose banner you wi
i i
power, to oe exercised oniy in cases
clear violation of the constitution or niani
fest haste and want of consideration by
Congress," the other claims its exercise
whenever the Executive may choose to in
lerpose it to thwart the will of the people
the one thinks tho personal opinions of th
Executive ought not to control the action
of Congress, the other, to judge from par
ly associations, would have bills framed
specially to meet the views of the Execu
live; the one is opposed to the subjugation
of other nations and the dismemberment of
other countries by conquest, the olhe
would fight for "fifty-four forty" an
"swallow up" the whole of Mexico; the
one is a south-western man, entirely sound
on the question of slavery, the other
northern man with opinions suited to"ci
cumslances i" tho one in short would
the President of the People, Ihe other of
Party. The antithesis might be extende
to any desired length, for in no two things
are ihev alike. Choose ye, then, people ofl
Whigs bf Missouri I the lime is once
more approaching when you will have an
opportunity of asserting your princi
ples. To you has been presented a ticket
on which all may unite. Many of you
may have prefered Henry Clay a name
around which the fondest associations clus
ter, and on which memory loves to linger ;
but a majority of our brethren to whom
we committed this selection, have thought
it best to present the name of another no
less worthy and true. Let no individual
preferences then, or disappointment, deter
you froni'doing your duty, your whole du
ty. There is no better Taylor man than
Henry Clay himself, for he would cease to
bo Henry Clay as soon as he should loose
the magnanimity of his nature, or his de
votion to the cause of which he has so
long been an ornament. Rally then, around
the standard of Taylor and Fillmore I Un
furl your banners and let their folds wan
ton in the breeze ! Complete your organi
zation by forming clubs in every neighbor
hood. Recall the enthusiasm you felt for
the lamented Harrison and if you will it,
you can give them another Waterloo de
feat. You have a great and glorious cause
the enfranchisement of a nation from
Executive misrule and corruption wor
thy of a great and united effort. In view
of the magnitude of the issues involved
then, let us once more exhort you to buckle
on your armor and inarch to battle and to
victory under a General WHO NEVER
Fayette, Missouri, Oct. 2, 1813.
Seventeen hundred and seventy-nine!
'Twas a cheerless evening in October; the
sun had already set, and a young man was
struggling with the dark clouds that at in
tervals obscured her bright dise, as they
were borne along by the resistless fury of
the angry wind which howled dismally
mong the naked branches of the leafless
forest trees. Now it came in fitful gusts
scattering the fallen leaves, and whining
iteously at its lack of power. Now it in
eased in strength, snapping the decayed
ranches, and bending the boughs of the
sturdy oak.
Anon it swelled into an overwhelming
blast, twisting the gnarled trunks, and with
deafening crash uprooting and overthrow
ng the mighty lords of the soil; then sink
ing into a sullen moan it howled a mourn
ful requiem over its spent and departed
Dark indeed, and dismal was the night
and furious the warring of the elements.
but darker and more dismal were the re
flections, and more fierce the conflict lha
raged within the breast of the injured pat
riot, who forms the subject of our narrative.
Mr. Charles Forman was a young far
mer residing within a few miles of Hack-
ensack. At the first outbreaking of our
revolutionary troubles, he had shouldered
his musket, and tearing himself from his
young and lovely wife, had fought, aye, and
bled in Freedom s cause.
He was wilh the army at Morristown,
when having received intelligence of the
llness of his wife, he asked and obtained
leave to visit his home.
He had travelled on foot and alone for
two days had crossed the rugged ''Blue
Ridge," and on the evening of the second
dav had reached his humble dwelling. As
he neared tho house, the evidences of a
Tory visit were even at night plainly
With a beating heart he crossed tho
little court yard, and stood upon ihe door
step. His heart sunk within him, as he
lifted the latch, and found the door was
fastened. Gently he knocked, fearing lo
disturb his suffering wife; again he knock
ed, and again, but knocked in vain. There
was no cheerful light, as of late was wont
to beam from his little window, to comfort
those wilhin, and direct the weary, way
worn wanderer to a shelter. No curling
smoke issued from the chimney: no blazing
hearth was there: and save the flapping of
the shutters, and the rustling of the vines
that overhung the porch, oil else was si
lent. He could endure suspense no longer; and
forcing the door he stood wilhin the house.
All was darkness there. He groped his
way to the bed side, but it stood tenaniloss
WW 11 1 I I
lie caiiea upon nis who oy name-no an
swer came I "Sarah I" he cried; and the
winds howled the louder, as if in mockery
of his agony. With a trembling hand he
produced his tinder-box, and lighted ihe
little lamp that stood in its accustomed
place, upon the mantel I
Great Heaven 1 what a sight did its pale
rays reveal to him. Extended upon the
floor lay the bHy of his wife, with her in
fant child clasped to her breast both cold
in death I Blood, too, was there-Mhe life
blood of his guileless wife, and innocent
babe a cold, coagulated pool I
" Oh. God I my wife, my child I" he
shrieked his brain reeled, and tottering a
few paces, he fell at her side. Soon he re-
covered himself, and lifting them gently
from the floor, he placed them side by side
upon the bed, and stood silently gazing up
on the placid countenance of the young
wife, beautiful even in death.
There is an eloquence in silence, when
the heart is too full for utterance, and a
solemn voice in silent grief. Vain were
our attempt to describe the tumult of feel
ing, the crush of emotion that filled tho
hearl of poor Charles, as he bent over tho
body of his murdered wife. No word es
caped him, no sign, no tear drop started,
but his bosom heaved quickly, his lip quiv
ered, and his eye rolled wildly, and wilh a
lemoniacal glare. He seemed as though
his every faculty of mind was intent upon
one word, which should speak the fulness
of his misery and desperation, and his lip
struggled to give it utterance I At length
came: " Vengeance I and he started at
ho coarse, unearthly tone of his own voice.
' Vengeance I" and the dark winds swept
away the echo as it formed. " Vengeance!"
and his wild and solemn vow stood eternal-
All that night he watched by the bodies
of nis wife and child and the next mor-
buried them with his own hands,
swearing over their graves to avenge them.
As he was returning from his melancho
ly task, ho found lying upon the grass near
the door a large hunting knife still red with
blood. Upon ihe haft was carved in rude
characters ihe name "Charles Smith."
This Smith was a violent and cruel par
tisan ( companion of the notorious Van-
lushirk) who, with a company of outcasts
like himself, and a few negroes, made fre
quent incursions into the upper counties of
New Jersey, and were notorious for their
cruel and barbarous trearment of the pat
riotic females.
Years ago, when tho wife of Forman
was quite young, he had professod an at
tachment fur her, which she by no means
encouraged, and the offer of his hand was,')
as might have been expected, refused.
Even then he swore she should have cause
to repent it, and still nourishing a deadly
hatred, he had taken advantage of the ab
scence of her husband, and paying a visit
with his troop, to Hackensack, with his
own hand had dealt tho blows which de
prived both mother and child of life.
"This knife," exclaimed Charles as he
glared upon its reeking blade, "this knife
which has rendered my life a blank, and ut
terly darkened my future, shall yet drink
tliino hearts blood, inhuman monster!"
And after carefully wiping the blade he
placed it in his belt, und entered his deso
late home.
For more than an hour he sat in silent
agony, the big drops coursing down nis
haggard checks, as he brooded over his
wrongs and dreamed of vengeance. Then,
starting suddenly to his feet he cast one
last, long, lingering look upon each familiar
object, and rushed from the house, vowing,
as he shut the bolt, never to return while
Smith lived lo murder and destroy.
A week had passed; 'twas midnight, and
from a small house, situated on the verge
of a wood, about a mile to the eastward of
White Plains, there issued shouts of bois
terous revelry, interrupted only by occa
sional snatches of some rude bacchanalian
Smith and his men wore indulging in
their accustomed nightly debauch, after
having returned from a successful expedi
tion. Near the house stood Charles for-
man, leaning upon a fence, carefully mark
ing tho progress of this drunken party;
his dark eye flashing fearfully, as the con
stant clanking of glasses was heard, and
the teeth gnashing with rage, as the dying
cadence of a drinking song came to his
Suddenly he aroused himself, and clutch
ing the fatal knife, he moved towards the
house. Pausing at the threshold, (o col
lect his strength, he burst in the door, and
stood confronted with his foe.
' Vengeance!" he shouted, and ere the
half drunken wretches could stay his hand,
he seized the Tory leader, and dashed him
to ihe floor. " This," cried he, plunging
the knife in his bosom, "for my murdered
wife, and this," plunging it still deeper, ' for
my innocent babel Haste wilh your guil
ty soul to the father of lies, and tell him
that a widowed husband, made childless
by thine hand, has sent the to deserved tor
ments!" Then rushing upon the affrightened To
ries, he plunged his knife indiscriminately
into those who were nearest him, until
overpowered by numbers, he full dead up
on the floor, muttering between his clench
ed teeth," Sarah!" and " Vengeance."

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