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Port Tobacco times, and Charles County advertiser. (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1845-1898, December 18, 1868, Image 1

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Volume XXV. No. 83.
And Charles County Advertiser,
Two Dollars per Annum, Payable In ad
vance. (ii.SO If not in advance,
ADVERTISING RATES.—For plain matter,
One dollar per square for the first insertion. —
♦'or rule and figure matter, two dollars per
Xire for the first insertion. For each insertion
r the first, fifty cents per square. Eight lines
Xox that apace occupied) constitute a square.
If the number of insertions be not marked on
the advertisement, it will be published until
Car bid, and charged accordingly. The privilege
Of annual advetisers extends only to their im
mediate business.
Obituaries, tributesof respect,calls upon per
sons to become candidates, &c., inserted as ad
yerfiseinonls, at the usual rates. Marriage
notices H cents,
* Communications, the effect of which is to pro
mote private or individual interests, arc matters
•f charge, and are to be paid for at the rate of 50
cents per square. .
816 & 218 Baltimore st., Baltimore, Md.,
Table Cutlery, and Family
Fork.*, Spoons, Casters St Butter Tubs,
Britannia and Block Tinware,
• •
• /
The Goods have all been selected from the
moat celebrated makers, and are guaranteed
to bo first class in QUALITY, new in PAT
TBMff, aid beautiful in DESIGN. The
bought Mucu under lor*
on account of the depression in
trade, will ba offered to customers at a cor
responding reduction.
aue 20—6 m
No. 511 Seventh St.,
Intelligencer Building,
All Goods are marked in plain figures,
and sold for
one price oisriLrsr.
Clothing to fit all ages from two years,
ready-made, or made to order.
The stock is one of the largest to be
found in the District, nearly all of it made
up for Mr. 11.
Persons ordering by mail, need only
state the style, color and price desired.
Sep. 3,1868—6 m
74---"‘*‘‘“" KlNG STREET 74
Hi ■ • —. „ .
subscriber has now on hand and can af
ford to sell at prices to suit tb e times one of the
largest and best assorted stocks of fine goods
tor Gentlemen, Ladies, Misses and Children,
usd heavy work suitable for Farmers, ever be
fore offered for sale in this market. His long
experience in the trade has enabled him to pro
sure a stock manufaefured from the best mate
lid ted in the most durable and stylish man
ner, and on the most favorable terms, and with
inch Advantages he can afford to sell as cheap
te the cheapest. All in want will do well to
call at 74, King street, before purchasing. His
stock comprises in part—
Ilea’s Kip Boots, suitable for Farmers.
Men’s Calf Double-sole Pegged and Stitched
Beoteh bottom Boots.
Boy*’ Youths’ Calf and Kip Double-sole
Ladies’, Misses’ and Children’s Calf, Goat,
Morocco, Glove Kid, Turkish Morocco and
Lasting Boots of every style and description.
Men’s. Ladies’, Misses’ and Children’s Gum
Shoes. ~=
Also, a good stock of goods suitable for
country, merchants, to which we invite their
attention,/ ; W, B. WADDEY,
sep 17—3 m
riIHE undersigned has on hand, for sale, a
X good lot of Hogshead Siding, Hoops
and Heading. Also Plank and Wheel
wright Stair P. A. SASSCER.
je 30—tf
®fie Port ®o h arro ®imes
Dear friend, far off, my lost desire,
So far, so near, in woe and weal;
0, loved the most when most I feel
There is a lower and a higher;
Known and unknown, human, divine I
Sweet human hand and lips and eye,
Dear heavenly friend that canst not die,
Mine, mine, forever, ever mine !
Strange friend, past, present, and to be,
Loved deeplier, darklier understood ;
Behold I dream a dream of good,
And mingle all the world with thee.
Thy voice is on the rolling air;
I hear thee where the waters run;
Thou standest in the rising sun,
And in the setting thou art fair.
What art thou, then ? I cannot guess;
But though I seem in star and flower
To feel thee, some diffusive power,
I do not, therefore, love thee less;
My love involves the love before;
My love is vaster passion now;
Though mixed with God and nature thou,
I seem to love thee more and more.
Far off thou art, but ever nigh ;
I have thee still, and I rejoice ;
I prosper, circled with thy voice;
I shall not lose thee though I die.
“Give me,” I said, “that ring
Which on thy taper finger gleams ;
Sweet thought to me ’twill bring,
When summer’s sunset beams
Have faded o’er the Western sea,
And left me dreaming love, of thee !”
“Oh, no !” the maiden cried,
“This shining ring is bright but cold ;
That bond is loosely tied
Which must be clasped with gold I
The ring would soon forgotten be;
Some better gift I’ll give to thee !”
“Then give to me that red rose,”
Said I, “which on thy bosom heaves,
In estaciee repose, ' ’ * —A—
And droops its blushing leaves;
If thou wouldst have me think of thee,
Fair maiden, give the rose to me.”
“Oh, no 1” she softly said,
“I will not give thee any flower;
This rose will surely fade—
It passeth with the hour;
A faded rose can never be
An emblem of my love for thee I”
“Then give me but thy word —
A vow of love—’twere better yet,”
I cried: “Who once has heard
Such vows can ne’er forget!
If thou wilt give this pledge to me,
No ring nor rose I’ll ask of thee!”
“Oh, no!” she said again;
“For spoken vows are empty breath,
Whose memory is vain
When passion perisheth;
If e’er I lose my love for thee,
My vows must all forgotten be 1”
“Then, what,” I asked, “wilt thou
0, dearest! to thy lover give ?
Nor ring, nor rose, nor vow
May I from thee receive;
And yet some symbol there should be
To typify thy love for me!”
Then drooped her silvery voice
Unto a whisper soft and low ;
“Here, take this gift—my choice—
The sweetest love can know !”
She raised her head all lovingly,
And smiling gave a kiss to me I
The Character of little Nell—Dickens’
“Old Curiosity Shop.”
[The following is a school girl’s “composi
tion.” We think it well worth publishing:]
Probably in the whole range of Eng
lish literature, there cannot be found an
imaginary creation, or a real biography
that so strongly fixes our attention, excitCJ
our sympathies, and awakens our affec
tions, as the narrative of Little Nell, —
From the very outset of the story there is
an almost irresistible influence that draws
us toward her, which goes on increasing
to the end. We love the pure and
less child shat up in the gloomy old house
with its musty relics and faded curiosities,
and our affection and pity know no di
urination in any stage of her subsequeol
wanderings. We follow her from the
morning when she and the imbecile ole
man steal away from that bouse whos<
rooms are filled with “fevered dreams,’
and not alone, through the deserted, cheer
less streets, do we accompany them, bui
i through all their roamings, with eager in
tercet and solicitude; and iu each success
ive incident of their weary pilgrimage wt
learn some lesson of patience, fortitude
and truth. ♦
The weakness of the old man excites
our sympathy; but we would many times,
notwithstanding bis enfeebled condition,
look upon him with feelings of the strong
■ est aversion—despise him as the author
of Nell’s misfortunes. Rut every time we
| are tempted to do so her gentle pleading
'eyes seem to look beseechingly up, and,
iin tones whose tenderdess reproaches us
for our unkindness, say : “Do not speak
harshly to him. He is a weak old man.
God bless him. He has only me to help
him now. God bless us both.” We can
not resist her entreaties; and so, at last,
her anxieties and cares become ours, and
we seek to share them in every circum
stance of her strange life. At times, it is
true, our resentment is rekindled, when
some mad act of her grandfather precipi
tates her into greater difficulties. We
momentarily feel like separating them,
and, plaoing Nell in a position of ease and
comfort, leave the old man to plod on his
way alone. But “neither of us could
i part from the other,” says the sweet voice
of the child, “if all the wealth of the
world were halved between us.” Nor
could we for a moment, when we see the
noble self-sacrificing devotion of her young
heart, desire to part them. No—no—we
learn to love the great truths taught by
the example of the lovely child, and our
hearts becoming softened by higher, ho
lier perceptions of our duty, one to anoth
er, we pity the old man; and in the great
est extravagances of his imbecility would
aid Nell in the promotion of his happi
How beautifully, in her character, does
the author illustrate the true greatness of
the soul. How faithfully does he portray
true charity. He does not show us one
from the more favored walks of life—one
who has means and influence with which
to fuueitvrtUe the twtnmi-Jh ©f ikSh
ing—not one who distributes gold with
ostentatious liberality—nor one who talks
much of the poor, and makes long pray
ers in their behalf, and asks God’s bless
ing upon them ; no, not one with even a
home. But a poor child—one who often’
has not a crust of bread to appease the
gnawings of hunger. A child who for
all this exhibits traits of character which
all the gold of earth could not purchase.
One who, carrying out the principle of
love which God has implanted within her,
sacrifices her own comfort through many
trying scenes—nay, her life is premature
ly closed in trying to promote the good of
another. Oh, ye, who live in wealth,
and every day set down to sumptuous
feasts while the miserable poor are dying
around you—look at this, ye, who would
dole out your charities to the unhappy
ones of earth, learn a lesson from the sim
ple story of this child. Who shall say
how many there are like her, who, in their
quiet sphere, walk the earth to bless it?
Who shall say how many like her, in their
humble way, scatter flowers of truth along
their path to heaven ? Who shall say
how much of good is developed among the
poor around us every day, which we in
the pride and indifference of our hearts
• never heed? Who shall say how many
there are along life’s journey, whose rag
ged garbs conceal the existence of angels?
' Oh, let no one spurn the weary, foot-sore
1 wanderers of earth —they are God’s pil
grims—and he who would help them will
be rewarded bye and bye—he who would
. turn them away may, hereafter, —when
] their journey is over, —long to know
. them.
a There are few, indeed, who read the
y story of Little Nell, who do not feel like
2 aiding her; but this, in many cases, is
- because a master-hand paints the beauties
-of her character. There may be many a
s round us, in real life, whom we spurn
s from our doors, as much deserving pity
g as she. There is not one we imagine who
- does not bless, with true earnestness, even
k ’
e all who render assistance to the child and
i, her grandfather. There are one or two,
i- indeed, whose kindness to the wanderers
it makes us long to tarry awhile and become
e better acquainted. Who, for example
d does not sigh, and perhaps let fall a teai
ie when the poor travellers bid farewell tc
” the good old schoolmaster ? Who would
•- not gladly try to persuade them to retnait
it a few days, to comfort him in bis bereave
i- ment? Who does not wish to take the
s- good man's hand and thank him for hie
e kindness-so pure and disinterested —te
! Nell and her grandfather? And who
does not rejoice withthe child when long
, | afterwards she finds, when almost ex
hausted, in the supposed stranger, the no
jhie noble-hearted schoolmaster? Wo feel,
I when they meet aga>u, that her greatest
. i trials are past, henceforth her way will be
J easier. Thank God that on the world’s
just highway there ave such hearts to help
| the miserable over the rougher stages of
( ■ their journeyings. Thank God for such
. schoolmasters to tea- h earth’s wanderers
: their pathway home '
j Next to the school-master, the one who
jiuost merits our that ks for his kindness to
Nell and her singula charge, is the fire
man who takes them from the cheerless
streets, on that night of storm, and gives
( them the best shelter he has to offer,
though but a heap of ashes before that
fire which contains so many strange his
; tories. His whole Ufe—after his boyhood
was past —spent in weaving fancies by the
[ blazing furnace amid the crashing of ham
, mers and the roar of machinery, he knows
L but little of the great world outside—but
, yet his heart is open to the cries of the
. needy. Ostentatious philanthrophy mast
, blush with shame to see such charity as
„ his. The coarse loaf he divides with them
, ere they pursue their journey through
1 that barren country —a waste of manufac
, tories —where rural beauty bad long ago
. died and now slept beneath great piles of
blackened dust and ashes, may be as wor
thy in the sight of God, as though it were
a royal banquet. And when, after part
[ ing, he calls them back and places in
Nell’s hand those ti o worn copper pieces
bow are our hearts noved to admiration.
, Well may the authoi say that gifts like'
p this are doubtless acceptable in angels’
r eyes as those that are chronicled on tombs.
; But notwithstanding the interest aw*k
, ened throughout Nell’s journey, the clos
ing scenes in the cid church-yard must
time of her arrival there, a new and
, stronger influence draws us to her. In
that quiet place marked everywhere by
the evidences of the hand of death, we
t feel from the first that there springs up a
companionship between her and the an
, gels guarding the resting place of the
. dead. And when, impressed with the so
-1 lemnity of the place, she clasps her hands
in the earnestness of her emotions, and
p tells the old schoolmaster “it is a quiet,
happy place, a place to live and learn to
r die,” the beauties of her nature seem to
ripen into purer, holier virtues, and we
p feel that her journey of life will soon be
over. Whether in her visits to the gloo
jmy old chapel—in her walks and labors
in the churchyard, where sleep those who
| are done with the toils of earth, —in her
, strolls through the village and in country
places—in that quiet, quiet house where
7 in every place the hand of decay is doing
r its work of destruction, we feel the solici
-2 tude of the little boy who tells her in his
simple, artless way of what he has heard.
“Why they say that you will be an an
’ gel,” he sobs, “before the birds sing a
g gain.” And then, in all the earnestness
j of his childish heart, he appeals to her,
g and how truly do our hearts unite in the
P entreaty, “You must not be one, dear
Nell, they never come back to talk or play
9 with us. You won’t be one, will you?—
s Don’t leave us, Nell, though the sky is
bright. Do not leave us. Why would
j you go, dear Nell ?” But Nell, giving
j him no answer but sobs, he tries to be
come resigned, and commends her, if she
v must go, to his brother Willie who went
there long ago and never returned. Then
clasping her round the neck he tells her
he will try to bear his loss when she goes
away to be an angel, and will think that
she and Willie are happy together. But
Nell’s promise gives him hope. “I will
be with you as long as heaven wills it,”
Q she sobs, “indeed I will.” Ah! what a
straw was this to support a sinking hope.
As long as heaven wills it. Yes, and
u ®
heaven’s time of making its demand is al
most come. Her fitness is almost cora
’ plete. Those happy changes affliction
has wrought will soon lead up to immor
tality. That quiet, patient, steady hope
of an existence in whose mansions no
fevered dreams, no brooding cares are
found—where no homeless wanderers plod
on, from day to day, with bleeding feet,
and ask for alms—where death is power
less, and where no graveyards, with their
e still, dumb tenants, loom up on every
8 i highway with solemn warnings of the
o' brevity of life—will soon be fulfilled.
The time comes at laat. Gorgeous
robed and beautiful ones, sent from
heaven, are waiting in the tottering old
house, though its inmates know it not— '
waiting to bear her home. With a slight ‘
struggle the soul quits its frail dwelling
place, and free, and happy, is guided by j
angels up to heaven—while songs of joy j
fill the celestial world with melody.— 1
Then, and only then, the gaunt skeleton
form of Death comes out from its dark
hiding place among mouldy tombs and
claims the body; tho sweet spirit of the
child is with its God. I will close with
an extract from the author’s reflection on
her death. “Oh, it is hard to take to
heart the lesson such deaths teach, but
let no man reject it, for it is one that all
must learn, and is a mighty universal
Truth. When Death strikes down the
innocent and the young from every fra
gile form from which he lets the parting
spirit free, a hundred virtues rise up in
shapes of mercy, charity and love, to walk
the world and bless it. Of every tear
that sorrowing mortals shed on such green
groves some good is. born, some gentler
nature comes. the Destroyer’s steps
there spring up bright creations that defy
his power, and his dark path becomes a
way of light to Heaven.”
gelettek HwciUamj.
Personal History and Peculiarities—His
Mission to England.
The Washington correspondent of the
St. Louis Democrat give the following in
teresting personal history of Revcrdy
The old legal and social acquaintances
of Mr. Johnson say this (I quote the ex
act words, very nearly from a leading
lawyer of Frederick):
ptdrfteoa. cater Gpifcin England
merely as an advocate. He went there to
settle these Alabama claims, and he means
to do it. Johnson took him for the place,
knowing his power and familiarity with
English statesmen, and Reverdy has been
quietly establishing a social and profes
sional correspondence with that side for
these fifteen or twenty years—not with
this particular design in mind, of course,
but with the intent to distinguish himself,
some day, in patriotic diplomacy.”
“Does Mr, .Johnson love the English
people?” I said to the same gentleman.
“Yes, we all do —the gentlemen, that
is, of old English descent in the former
colonies of Maryland and Virginia. Eng
land has no such friends as the lawyers of
the Maryland bar —students of her com
mon law. At the same time, Reverdy is
a stout American patriot. He took a
musket as a private soldier at the battle
of Bladensburg, in the volunteer company
of William Pinckney, and a shot fired
over his head (for he is a low man in sta
ture) killed a tall man directly behind
“Yes, sir! Reverdy is a thorough pa
triot. His attitude at the beginning of
this war was as resolute as a prize fight
er’s. He is a perfect bull dog even at
his age of seventy-five, and would fight a
duel to-day as quick as he would eat.”
I find that I cannot write the story of
Mr. Johnson with the spirit it should have,
unless I give the name of my chief infor
mant, and this I am not authorized to do.
Sufficient it is say that he is a cotempora
ry at the bar and a kinsman of Mr. John
son; a secessionist and a political oppo
. nent of our Minister Plenipotentiary.—
Thus much expressed, let me continue
this sketch in the conversational form in
which it occurred.
“Mr. Johnson, you say is a fighting
man ? I thought Lis remarkable trait was
his want of moral firmness and bis abid
ing amiability.”
“The two things are consistent. Most
men with moral weakness accept a physi
cal quarrel as an escaped. I mean that
Mr. Johnson, with a pervading disposi
tion to be agreeable and have no violence,
is a fire-eater in physical brawls. At his
age he would challenge any man to-day
who impugned his faith in his diplomacy.
Of course he cannot take notice of “news
paper criticisms.”
“Did he ever fight ?”
“I am not aware that he did, hut after
the failure of the Bank of Maryland, in
which his name was associated with much
reproach, Mr. Johnson challenged a num
ber of people and permitted none to es
! cape without apology. He lost his eye,
you know, because of a duel.”
, “How did he lose that eye, sir?”
| “Well! a North Carolina Congressman
named Stanley, had been bull-ragging
1 Henry A. Wise, with the determination
■ to make the latter fight or be frightened.
•; Wise finally resolved to suffer this thing
j : no more, but to bring it to a head. So,
> at a horse-race near Washington city, he
; rnn his horse violently against Stanley’s,
and then, pretending to believe that Stan
ley was tho aggressor, turned sharply
round and cut the latter with a stick.—
t Stanley had to challenge Wise, of course,
and he went to Revsrdy’s neighborhood,
near Baltimore to learn how to use the
pistol. Some say Reverdy was teaching
jhira. At any rate, Reverdy went out to
see him fire one day, Stanley’s bullet
I struck a tree and glanced, -ehot Reverdy
jin the eye, brought him down and nearly
killed him. He lay in bed a long while,
his life despaired of. The friends of Stan
ley and Wise stopped the duel, and Rev
erdy’s misfortune was kept out of the pa
“Does that lost eye give Mr. Johnson
any trouble now-a-days ?”
“Yes, sir. A cataract has formed over
his other eye, and ho is next to stone
blind. They show him a good deal of at
tention in England (I get letters from
him,) and he says that in the galleries of
noblemen and gentlemen they show him a
good many paintings. With the old fel
low’s plausible amiability, he replies that
they are beautiful, but he says he never
sees anything at all.”
reverdy’s wife and family.
“Was Reverdy Johnson a handsome
man before he lost his eye ?”
“No! He never was handsome. But
his wife, RJary Bowie, who is now with
him in England—she and his son Ed
ward, the latter not very bright—was the
most beautiful woman in Maryland. She
was the daughter of Governor Bowie, an
old Governor of the State, a relative col
laterally of the present Governor Bowie,
and also of James Bowie, the inventor of
the Bowie knife. She met Reverdy at a
party in Prince George’s county, not more
than twenty miles from Washington, and
it was a clear case of love at first sight.
She was poor and so was he, but both
were eminently and gently connected.—7
Reverdy owes all he is to his wife* as his
brother John, the Chancellor of Maryland,
deceased, has often told me; for she is a
beautiful, faithful, spirited, and ambitious
woman, and has kept him steady and ear
nest all Iris days. They have forty-odd
grand children, and have had about ten
children. This is their second visit to
England, having gone thither years ago,
when Mary Johnson was still handsome,
‘and attracted much attention. At that
time Reverdy was United Stites Senator,
and Lord Lyndhurst and many English
noblemen were particularly attentive to
him. lie named his fine estate near Bal
timore city Lyndhurst, on his return, and
has been visited there by many English
gentlemen and noblemen.”
“Can you recall by whom?”
“Well! I remember notably that a
friend of mine introduced to him Lord and
Lady Araherly, the former the sou of Earl
Russell, and as Mr. Johnson was intro
ducing them, to various Senators, it was
mentioned to him that Lady Amberly was
the daughter of Lnrd Stanley; cousin, I
believe, to Lord Stanley, Earl Derby’s
Said Mr. Johnson: “I have just receiv
ed a letter from Lord Stanley, of Haugh
ton Hall (now English Minister of For
eign Affairs.”)
“Why!” said I, “this is the Secretary
with whom Mr. Johnson is now treating
for the Alabama claims!”
“The same! Lord Stanley and Mr,
Johnson are old acquaintances and corres
pondents.” ,
reverdy’s father and portion.
“Had Reverdy good opportunities in
early life ?”
“Socially, yes! His father who came
originally, I think, from Allegany county,
was John Johnson, Chancellor of the
State of Maryland, one of the best judges
in equity that any State ever had. Rev
erdy says that he ascribes bis legal success
largely to the fact that he used to try cases
before his father. Reverdy’s younger
brother, also a John Johnson, was the
last Chancellor that Maryland had. He
, has been dead about twelve years.—
John Johnson was a copy of Judge Roger
Taney, without Taney’s calibre, an excel
. lent Judge. Reverdy Johnson was edu
cated at St. John’s College, Annapolis,
where he was born, began practice there,
went early to Baltimore, and rose to the
. head of Iris profession. He was left little
money by his father. At present ho is
well to do, perhaps rich. He has a good
deal of Webster’s carelessness about his
business accounts. Politically, he has been
, every thing—Whig, Democrat, Know-
Nothing—and at present has no hold up
on the State of Maryland, having been
. guilty of flagrant inconsistency of pro
nouncing the reconstruction acts uncon
stitutional and then voting for their adpp
■ lion. He says he did this to keep harder
t terms from being imposed, but the people
, ‘don’t see it.’
“Reverdy is a hearty but plain liver.
. He mixes a whisky toddy before dinner,
drinks half, eats, finishes the other half,
and then takes a nap. He can then get
up and write and prepare a brief all night.
1 “I will tell you an anecdote. Tom
r Quinn* used to be doorkeeper to the House
1 of Delegates at Annapolis, and also crier
.| to the Court. He was a popular fellow
r I
’l * The old doorkeeper’s name was John ; he
’ : was very boisterous in his manner, full of bur
i ’mor and joke, and generally known as Jack
, i Quinn. —Ed. Times.
Terms: $2, in advance.
with the lawyers, and assumed familiari
ties. We used to pay him five dollars
apiece when we were admitted to the bar.
One day Tom Quinn walked up to Rever
dy, slapped him familiarly on the shoul
der, and said;
“Rev. I guess I’ll take dinner with you
“Very well, Mr. Quinn. Come din,e
with me, sir!”
Arrived at Reverdy’s house, where
only Mrs. Johnson was at home, Tom
Quinn beheld upon the table a piece of
corned beef and a dish of cabbage. Tom’s
countenance fell.
"Mr. Johnson,” he said, “you lawyers
must be getting rich.”
“Why, Mr. Quinn?”
“ Weil, you get good fees, and it seems
to me you have very small expenses I”
betebdy’s house torn down.
“What was the occasion of the Baltir
more mob tearing down Mr Johnson's
house, sir?” ,
“Oh! that was thirty or forty years
ago. Reverdy was a director of the Bank
of Maryland. The bank failed, and it
was the popular presumption that the di
rectors bad loaned the money to them
selves, and failed to pay it Up. Excite
ment ran high against Reverdy and others.
The mob assembled before his fine boose,
next door to the present Barnum’s Hotel,
and levelled it to the ground. Sttitswcre
brought to test the relative responsibility
and criminality of the directors, and Nel
son, afterwards Attorney General of tb
United States, rival and no great friend
to Johnson, prosecuted them. He said,
in conclusion, that the Maryland Bank
was found to be really the property of a
single man, who used the names of other
directors, and that Mr. Johnson was
blameless. The Legislature of Maryland
afterwards appropriated money to build
up Reverdy’s dwelling.”
“Reverdy is a good name; where did
he get it?” .
“From his mother’s
Ghiloon. Both his ancestors were Scotch,!!
Reverdy is a laWVeRt: 5
“Mr. Johnson,” said I, tp this most
circumstantial informant, “is koowt) to
everybody as a great lawyer. Wherein
lies his power?” ■
“In the Agsipkce he. Jfcv&j
with the common law; equally
the statute law; and in nisi prtiit cases
| before a jury he is terrific. No such mas
ter-spirit ever tried a case in this country.
John McMahon used to say that William
Wirt was an idiot to Reverdy Johnson in
a nisi print court. He understands the
workings of human nature. He has the
the rare power of controlling bis belief, so
that on whichever side he happens to be
he persuades himself., This gives him
the absolute appearance ,of candor, and
questioning a witness, be makes him say
whatever he (Reverdy} pleases.... Haying
worked the witness^up jo. his position,
Reverdy prays the court tp instruct the
jury to find according to the evidence.—
Then in his speech he looks in the faces
of the jury,, every element of his nature
apparently invoked in an honest .cause,
and justice herself almost believes him.—
As a stump speaker in the open air he is
not strong; in a nisi print court he is Je
hovah’s armoreV.
As . a constitutional lawyer be is the
best living in this country. His volun
tary appearance in the Dred Scott case
extorted from Judah t*.Benjamin, then
in the Senate, this phrase: “The decision
of the court w,as supported by the ablest
constitutional lawyer in America” i(Mr.
Reverdy Johnson.) . ~;.i ,
“Then Mr. Johnson shares with Judge
Taney whatever obloquy is' attached to
the Dred Scott decision.” _
‘ ‘Precisely !’* .
“He volunteered iH that baSe?”
- ' “Yes.”* ■ - ;
“And Judah P. Benjamin is. tow. in
Londoq.?” . - j
“Yes.” .
. “So is Mr. Johnson I” ’ *
• “Yes.” v
i£aF*Soma wag tells a story of -an old
, gentleman whose eight os teu olerks bored
, him continually with conundrums. Go
s ing bothe one evening, he was stopped in
front of a closed store by aicountrytoaii.
5 *‘Catt yoft teU me, toy friend, why thb
I store is closed ?”
; “Go to blazes with your qonuudnims,”
i cried he.„ “I’ve been bored.to death witk
■ ’em these three, weeks !” , ;,’.7 *‘r
■ . sadoxCew ••. ■
i ££Ci‘Can’t that drunkard ,be reclaim
• ed by;anybody?*’ ‘ i -
■ “‘Not until he has been first claimed by
• somebody.-” \ ! ■
‘ j - . 7—'
5 £3T Jones says tbe reason why be is
always so pensive is because his wife and
. daughter are so ex-pensive.
. . . .if:,
, JSTTHere is one good wifia in the conn
t try; let every man think that he hath her.
•jT , g■■
j £4T To appear so, does not. prove a
thing really to be so.
r ~ 1 "*** T “" 1 '
j /£#“Let your aoUOna correspond with
your good report. •**
b i
[ MSBTAn author’s wor|c ,5s not altvays
I the mirror of bis mind.

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