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PROSPECTUS
of the
.SW3W OB
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undersigned. The growing importance of Ath
ens, the state of parties in Georgia, and the
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J. W. JONES.
PROSPECT US.
AT the late meeting of the Alumni of Frank
lin College, it was unanimously resolved ti.
be expedient to make arrangements to issue a
Monthly Literary Magazine, to be called
THE ATHENIAN.
The undersigned were appointed by the So
ciety a committee of publication and joint Edi
tors of the work, until the next meeting of tue
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cept that which we take in the welfare of the
country and honor of the State. We, of the
South, have too long depended upon foreign
parts forour Literature, and neglected our own
talents. We shall be weak so long as we think
we are weak: and dependent until we make ef
forts to be independent. We hope all the friends
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Alumni of Franklin College, will patronize the
enterprise both by word and deed. State pride
the love of Literal are, our interest in the cause
of general Education, all call upon us to sustain
an enterprise so necessary to our improvement,
-and the honor of the State.
A. S. CLAYTON,
JAMES JACKSON,
R. D. MOORE,
WM. L. MITCHELL,
C. F. McCAY,
SAMUEL P. PRESSLEI',
H. HULL.
The Athenian shall issue monthly, on fine I
paper, stitched and covered in pamphlet form, ;
and shall contain sixty-four pages royal octavo.
Nothing derogatory to religion, offensive to any
denomination of Christians, or of any political
party, shall appear in the Athenian. Its pages
shall be. honestly devoted to general Literature,
the cause of Education, the Review of new
works, and notices of improvements in Science,
Arts and Agriculture. Price Five Dollars per
annum, payable on the delivery of the frst num
ber,
NEW GOODS.
JW. JONES is now receiving and opening
at his STORE IN DEARING’S URICK
BUILDING, a general assortment of
S’ALL WINTER GOODS,
Which for VARIETY, RICHNESS AND
SPLENDOR has not been surpassed by anv
stock ever Offered in this market. His stock
Consists of a very general assortment of
Staple and Fancy l>ry <moo<ls.
CLOAKS, OVERCOATS, READY MADE
CLOTHING, BONNETS, HATS, SHOES,
CALF AND WATER PROFFBOOTS, Sperm
and Tallow Candles,&c. &e.
Oct. 15, —24—ts
WILL be sold on the first Tuesday in
Febuary next,at the Court House in Che
rokee Co., Lot of Land No. 1134, third District
find second Section, in said eoun ty
containing 40 Acres ; sold as part of
the real estate of John Osborn of Clark county
deceased. Sold agreeable to the last will of said
dec’d.
ISMA W. WOOLDRIDGE, ) ,
NICHOLAS OSBORN, ( bx rs
Dec. 10.—32-tds
J7IOUR months after date, application will
be made to tho Honorable Inferior Court
of Clark county, when sitting for Ordinary
purposes, for leave to sell all the real estate of
Robert R. Billups, late of Stewart county de
ceased.
ELIZABETH W. BILLUPS, Ex’rx.
Nov. 26—30 —4im
Southern Chig.
From the Knickerbocker.
jm f, m isgy eab.
Farew ell, thou Dying Year—farewell !
Thy reign is well nigh o’er :
The freshness of thy vernal hours,
The glory of thy summer bowers,
And e’en thy last pale ang’ring flowers,
Will soon be here no more !
Perchance there are bright eyes that weep
To see thee pass away,
That in thy course, departing year,
Have ne’er been dimm’d with sorrow’s tear,
But blest with all of bright and dear,
Would gladly woo thy stay :
While others in the passing gale
Hear only tones of grief;
Recalling hopes of vanished years,
And forms now seen through memory’s tears,
An emblem of whose fate appears
In every falling leaf!
Yes! in thy flight has many a tie
Os earthly love been broken :
To be renewed; oh never more !
Save on that far eternal shore,
Where, grief and death forever o’er,
No parting words are spoken.
With the fair flowers that graced thy bloom,
E’en fairer things have faded ;
Creatures of loveliness and light
Have passed away from mortal sight,
And tempests, ere the fall of night,
The morn’s bright promise shaded.
Yet weep not, earth, thy dying flowers,
Thy hills and vales forsaken ;
The breath of spring shall deck again
With blooming sweets the verdant plain,
And through the grove the softest strain
Os love and song awaken.
And Christian, sigh not o’er the ties
Which this sad year has riven ;
The form of love that faded here
Lives now in yonder sinless sphere :
W hy shouldst thou weep that one so dear
Hath changed this earth for Heaven ! t. n. c.
From the New Monthly Magazine for November.
FIRST jLOVE; 08, COASTAACY SN THE
NIMETEEXTH €E«TIBY.
The assertion that 1 What is everybo
dy's business is nobody’s,’ is true enough;
but the assertion that‘What is nobody’s
business |is everybody’s,’ is still truer.—
Jjow, a love affair, for example, is, of all
apart —an enchanted dream,
?
■N.'i f. <<||||hjiiatrimoni’il quarrel—
by the interference
and subtle language.
‘ that but the speakers;’
and yet this fine and delicate spirit is most
especially the object of public curiosity.'
It is often supposed before it exists : it is I
taken for granted, commented upon, ;
tinned and ended, without the con. :■* J
the parties themselves; though a casual
observer might suppose that they were the
most interested in the business.
All love affairs excite the greatest pos
sible attention; but never was so much at
tention bestowed as in the little town of
Allerton, upon that progressing between
Mr. Edward Rainsforth and Miss Emily
Worthington. They had been a charming
couple from their birth—were called the
little lovers from their cradle; and even
when Edward was sent to school, his let-1
ter home once a quarter always contained ;
his love to his little wife. Their course of!
true love seemed likely to run terribly !
smooth, their fathers having maintained a !
friendship as regular as their accounts.— I
Mr. Worthington’s death, however, when I
Emily was just sixteen, led to the discov-;
ery that his affairs were on the verge of !
bankruptcy. Mr. Rainsforth now proven I
himself a true friend: he said little, but did
everything. Out of his own pocket he
secured a small annuity to the orphan girl,
placed her in a respectable family, and
asked her to dine every Sunday. With!
his full sanction,‘the little’ became‘the ]
young lovers;’ and the town of Allerton, |
for the first time in its life, had not a fault
to find with the conduct of one of its own
inhabitants
The two old friends were not destined
to be long parted, and a few months saw
Mr. Rainsforth carried to the same church
yard whithei he had so recently followed
the companion of his boyhood. A year
passed away, and Edward announced his
intention of (pray let us use the phrase ap
propriated to such occasions) becoming a
votary of the saffron god. The whole
town was touched by his constancy, and
felt itselfelevated into poetry by being the
scene of such disinterested affection. But.
for the first time in his life, Edward found
there was another will to be consulted than
his own. Ilis trustees would not hear of
his marrying till he was two-and-twenty,
the time that his father’s will oppoiuted for
his coming of age. The rage and despair
of the lover were only to be equalled by
the rage and despair of the whole town <jL
Allerton. Every body said that it
cruellest thing in the
went so far as to
thingtOD would da^|^ f
H ii-h . j '
feeling, and *• iii:;vrr-
sally | >if .< ■ I. t j.jh’l a -al •
one atom of BL . lltey had
said that thciiW : ' ’ ’ , Jr / a little of
the world, an®L ayffh ol them
men of their
Accordingly, that Edward
should go to London for the next three
months, and see how he liked studying the
law. He certainly did not like the pros
pect at all; and his only consolation was.
that he should not leave his adored Emily
exposed to the dissipations of Allerton.
She had agreed to go and stay with an
aunt, some forty miles distant, where there
was not even a young curate in the neigh
borhood. The town of Allerton Was
touched to the heart by the whole pro
ceeding; no one spoke of them but as that
tomantic and that devoted young couple.
I own that. 1 have known greater rnisfor-
“WIIERE POWERS ARE ASSUMED WHICH HAVE NOT BEEN DELEGATED, A NULLIFICATION OF THE ACT IS THE RIGHTFUL REMEDY.”—Jcjersmi.
tunes in life than that a young gentleman
and lady of twenty should have to wait a
twelve-mouth before they were married;
but every person considers their own the
worst that ever happened, and Edward
! and Emily were miserable to their hearts’
■content. They exchanged locks of hair;
land Emily gave him a portfolio, embroid
j ered by herself, to hold the letters that, she
! was to write. He saw her off first, under
j the care of an old servant, to the village
j where she was to stay. She waved her
I white handkerchief from the window as
j long as she could see her lover, and a little
I longer, and then sank back in a flood of
; ‘falling pearl, which men call tears.’
i Edward was as wretched, and he was
■ also exceedingly uncomfortable, which
I helps wretchedness on very much. It was
j a thorough wet day—all his things were
I packed up—for he himself was to start in
; the afternoon when the mail passed through
! —and never was a young gentleman more
I utterly at a foss what to do with himself.
! In such a case an affair of the heart is a
"j great resource: and young Rainsforth got
'upon the coach-box, looking quite unhap
i py enough to satisfy tho people of Aller-
I ton. It must be owned that he and the
weatherequally brightened up in the course
of a couple of stages. To be sure, a cigar
has a gift of placidity peculiarly its own. If
I were a woman I should insist upon my
lover’s smoking: if not of much conse
quence before, it will be an invaluable
qualification after, the happiest day of
one’s life.
In these days roads have no adventure
—they might exclaim, with the knife-grin
der. ‘Story! Lord bless you, I have none
to tell I’—we will therefore take our hero
after he was four days in Lon lon. He is
happy in a lover’s good conscience, for that
very morning he had written a long letter
! to his beloved Emily—the three first days
[ having been ‘ like a teetotum all in a twirl,
i he had been forced to neglect that duty so
j sweet and so indispensable to an absent,
lover. He had, however, found time to
become quite domesticated in Mr. Alford’s
family. Mr. Alford was of the first emi
nence in his profession, and had two or
three other young men under his charge;
but it was soon evident that Edward was
a first-rate favorite with the mother and ;
two daughters at all events. They were
fine-looking girls, and who understood how
to look their best. They were well dress
ed, and it is wonderful how much the hair
‘done to a turn,’ ribands which make a
complexion, and an exquisite chaussure,
set off a young woman. Laura taught him
to waltz, and Julia began to sing duets
I with him. Now, these are dangerous em
-1 ploymcnts for a youth of one-and-twenty.
I The heart turns round, as well as the head
I sometimes, in a sauteuse, and then it is dif
j ficult to ask these tender questions appro
priated to duets, such as ‘Tell me, my
heart, why wildly beating V ‘Uanst thou
teach me to forget ?’ tec., without some
emotion.
A week passed by, and the general post
man’s knock, bringing with it letters from .
I his trustee, who, as an item in his accounts,
j mentioned that he had just heard that Miss
I Emily Worthington was quite well, put
i him in mind that he had not heard from
| her himself. Oh ! how ill-used he felt; he
j had some thoughts of writing to over-1
j whelm her with reproaches for her rMnrc
i lect; b i*, on second thought, he rcsA exce
| to treat her with silci.t dis.lain. r lo4j'e :
j sure, such a methodot showing his con-1
j tempt took less time and trouble than writ-1
| ing four pages to express it would have j
; done. That evening he was a little out ot
j spirits, but Julia showed so much gentle
I smypathy with his sadness, and Laura ral
| lied him so pleasantly upon it, that they
j pursued the subject long alter there was
I any occasion tor it. The week became
1 weeks—there was not a drawback to the
enjoyment of the trio, excepting nowjmd
then'some old friends of papa, to whom
we must be civil; not,’ said Laura, ‘ but
that 1 would put tip with one and all, ex
i cepting that odious Sir John Belmore.
I Edward had been in town two months
i and a fortnight, when one evening Julia—
| they had been singing‘Meet me by inoon
j light alone’—asked h’.m to breakfast with
them. “I have,” said she, “some com-
I missions, and papa will trust me with you.
; He breakfasted, and attended the blue-
I eyed Julia to Swan and Edgar s. “ Now ,
I have some conscience I” exclaiined she,
with one of her sweet languid smiles Ju
lia had an especially charming smile—it
so flattered the person to whoiri it was ad
dressed. It was that sort of smile which
it is impossible to help taking as a person
al compliment. “ I have a little world of
shopping to do—bargains to buy—netting I
silks to choose: and you will never have
patience to wait. Leave inc here for an
hour, and then come back—novi be punc
tual. Let me look at your watch—ah ! j
it is just eleven. Good-bye, I shall expect
you exactly at twelve.”
»She turned into the shop with a most 1
becoming blush, so pretty, that Edward I
a mind to have followed her in,
- ' Moore’s lines—
■K a ' on k v Hreathe the air,
JI air that’s breathed b_v thee;” j
, ’■»; a natural antipathy to shop- '
even the attraction of a blush,
and a blush espicially of that attractive
j sort, one ot> your own account—even that
. was lost in the formidable array of ribands,
' silks, and bargains—
“ Bought because they nifiy be wanted,
Wanted because they may be'had.”
Accordingly, he lounged into his club,
and the hour was almost gone before he
arrived at Swan and Edgar’s. Julia told ■
him she had waited, and lie thought—what.
a sweet temper.she must have not to show !
I the least symptom of dissatisfaction.! on
I the contrary, her blue eyes were even '
[ softer than usual. By tlie time th-. .
I rived at her lather’s door he had as >.» ar
rived at the agreeable conclusion, that he
could do no wrong; Tiieyparted hastily,
for he had a tiresome business appoint-!
I ment; however, they were to meet in the i
evening, and a ihousand little tender things ,
which he intended to 1 say occupied him !
till the end of his walk.
ATHENS, GEOE&UA, SATSJK3SAY, JANUARY 51, SSS7.
When the evening came, and after a
toilette of that particular attention which
in nine cases out of ten one finds leisure
to bestow on oneself, he arrived at Mr.
Alford’s house. The first object that
caught his attention was Laura looking, as
the Americans say, ‘dreadful beautiful.’
i She had on a pink dress direct from Paris,
that flung around its own atmosphere de
rose, and nothing could be more finished
than her whole ensemble. Not that Ed
ward noted the exquisite perfection of all
the feminine and Parisian items which
completed her attire, but. he was struck by
the general effect. He soon found him-
I self, he scarcely knew how, quite devoted
to her; and his vanity was flattered, for she
was the belle of the evening.
It is amazing how much our admiration
takes its tone from the admiration ofotbers,
and when that is added an obvious admi
ration of ourselves, the charm is irresisti
ble. “Be sure.” said I,aura, in that low,
I confidential whisper, which implies that
■ only to one could it be addressed, “ if you
j see me bored by that weariful Sir John
Belmore, to come and make me waltz.—
! Really, papa's old friends make me quite
undutiful!” There was a smile accompa
nvingthe words which seemed to say, that
it was not only to avoid Sir John that sue
desired to dance with hiniself.
The evening went off most brilliantly;
and Edward went home with the full in
tention of throwing hiniself at the fascin
ating Laura’s feet, the following morning;
and, what is much more, he got up with
the same resolution. He hurried to Ilar
ley-street, and—how’ propitious the fates
are sometimes!—found the dame de ses
pensees al@ne. An offer is certainly a des
perate act. Tlic cavalier—
“ Longs to speak, and yet shrinks back,
As from a stream in Winter, though the chill
Be but moment.”
Edward certainly felt as little fear as a
gentleman well could do, under the cir
cumstances. He, therefore, lost no time
in telling Miss Alford, that his happiness
was in her hands. She received the intel
ligence with a very pretty look of surprise.
“Really,” exclaimed she, “I never t hought
of you but as a friend; and last night I ac
ce| tn 1 Su - John Belmore! As that is his
; t. ’ must go down to the library to
• ! <m; we should not be so interrupt-
ed i. oidi morning visitors !”
She disappeared, and at that moment
Edward heard Julia's voice singing on the
stairs. It was the last duet that tiiey had
sang together.
1‘ Who shall school the heart’s affection !
Who shall banish its regret!
If you blame my deep dejection,
Teach, oh, teach me to forget!”
She entered, looking very pretty, but
pale. “ Ah,” thought .Edward, “ she is
vexed that I allowed myself to be so en
grossed by her sister last night.”
“So you are alone,” exclaimed she. “I
have such a piece of news to tell you ! Lau
ra is going to be married to Sir John Bel
more, How can she marry a man she
positively despises ?”
“It is very heartless,” replied Edward,
with great emphasis.
“ Nay,”replied Julia, “but Laura could
not live without gaiety. Moreover, she
is ambitious. I cannot pretend to judge
for her; we never h ad a taste in common.”
“ i'Aii,” said Edward, “ would not have
I tunnel wus..^ jC |f away i”
A) j she. looking down,
“the heart is my world!” And Edward
thought lie hac| never seen any thing so
lovely as the deep blue eyes that now
looked up full oftears.
“ Ah, too convincing, dangerously dear;
In woman’s eye, th’ unanswerable tear.”
Whither Edward might have floated on
the tears of the ‘ dove-eyed Julia’ must re
main a question; for at that moment—a
most unusual occurrence in a morning—
Str. Alford, came into his own drawing
room.
“So, Madam,” he exclaimed in a voice
almost inarticulate from anger, “ I know it
all. You were married to Captain Dacre
yesterday; and you, Sir.” turning to Ed
ward, “made yourself a party to the shame
ful deception.”
“No,” interrupted Julia: “Mr. Rains
forth believed me to be in Swan and Ed
gar’s shop the whole time. The fact was,
I only passed through it.”
Edward stood aghast. So the lady, in
stead, of silks and ribands, was buying, per
haps, the dearest bargain of her life. A
few moments convinced him that he was
de trop; and he left the father storming,
and the daughter in hysterics.
On his arrival at his lodgings, he found a
letter from his guardians, in which he found
the following entered among other items:
—“ Miss Emily Worthington has been ill,
but is now recovering.” Edward cared,
at this moment, very little about, the health
or sickness of any woman in the world.
Indeed, he rather thought Emily’s illness
was a judgement upon her. If she had
answered his loiter, he would have been
saved all his recent mortification. He de
cided on abjuring the flattering and fickle
sex for ever, and turned to his desk to look
over some accounts to which he was re
ferred by liis guardians. While tossing
the papers about, half-listless, half-fretful,
what, shodld catch his eye but a letter with
the seal not broken ! He started from his
seatin consternatiph. Why, it was his (
own epistle to Miss Worthington! No
wonder that she had not written; she did
not even know his address; All the hor-;
rors of his conduct now stared hiin f ull in
the face. Poor; dear, deserted Emily, what
fount her feelings have been ! —He could
not bear to think of fhern. He snatched
up a pen, wrote to hi;? guardians, declar
ing that the illness of his beloved Emily
would, if they did not yield, induce him to
’ ike any measure, however desperate: and
:j;i! lie insisted on being allowed permis
' Ofi to visit, her. Nothing but his own
•. io could satisfy linn of her actual recov
ery. He also wrote to Emily, enclosed
the truant letter, and the following day set
oil’for Allerton.
In the meantime what had become of
the fair disconsolate ? Emily had certain
ly quite fulfilled her duty of being misera-
ble enough in the first instance. Nothing
could be duller than the little village to
which was consigned the Ariadne of Al
lerton. Day after day she roamed—not
along the beach, but. along the fields to
wards the post-office, for the letter which,
like the breeze in Lord Byron s calm,
‘came not.’ A fortnight elapsed, when
one morning, as she was crossing the
grounds of a fine, but deserted place in the
neighborhood, she was so much struck by
the beauty of some pink May, that, she stop
ped to gather it; —alas I like most other
pleasures, it was out of her reach. Sud
denly, a very elegant looking young man
emerged from one of the winding paths,
and insisted on gathering it for her. The
flowers were so beautiful, when gathered,
that it was impossible not to say something
in their praise, and .flowers lead to many
other subjects. Emily discovered that
she was talking to the proprietor of the
place, Lord Elmsley—and, ofcourse, apol
ogised for her intrusion. He equally of
course, declared that his grounds were
only too happy in having so fair a guest.
Next they met by chance again, and, at
last, the only thing that made Emily re- j
lapse into her former languor was—a wet |
day; for then there was no chance of see
ing Lord Elmsley. The weather, howe
ver, was, generally speaking, delightful—
and they met, and talked about Lord By
ron—nay, read him together; and Lord
Elmsley confessed that he had never un
derstood his beauties before. They talked
also of the heartlessness of the world; and
the delights of solitude in away that would
have charmed Zimmerman. One morn
ing, however, brought Lord Elmsley a let
ter. It was from his uncle, short and !
swset, and ran thus—
“ My dear George,—Miss Smith’s guar- j
dians have at last listened to reason—and j
allow that your rank is fairly worth her I
gold. Come up, therefore, as Soon as I
you can and preserve your interest with j
the lady. What a lucky fellow you are to I
have fine eyes—for they have carried the j
prize for you ! However, as women are |
inconstant commodities at the best. I ad- j
vise you to lose no time in securing the |
heiress.
“ Your affectionate uncle, E.”
“Tell them,” said the Earl, “to order
post-horses immediately. I must be oil to
London in the course of half an hour.” j
During this half hour he despatched his ;
luncheon, and, —for Lord Elmsley was a
perfectly well-bred man.—dispatched the
following note to Miss Worthington, whom
he was to have met that morning to show
her the remains of the heronry :
“ My dear Miss Worthington,—Hurried
as I am, I do not forget to return the vo- j
luine of Lord Byron you so obligingly lent!
me. How I envy you the power of re- I
maining in the country this delightful sea
son—while I am forced to immure myself
m hurried and noisy London. Allow me
to offer the best compliments of
Your devoted serv’t. Elmsley.”
No wonder that Emily tore the note
which she received with smiles and blush
es into twenty pieces, and did not get up
to breakfast the next day. The next Week
she had a bad cold, and was seated in a
most disconsolate looking attitude and
shawl, when a letter was brought in. It
contained the first epistle of Ed ward’s, and
the following words in the envelope :
“My adored Emily,— You may forgive
me—l cannot forgive myself. Only ima
gine that the inclosed letter has by some
j strange chance remained in my desk, and
I never discovered the error til! this morn
ing. You would pardon me if you knew
all I have suffered. How I have reproach
ed von! I hope to sec you to-morrow, for
I cannot rest till I hear from your own
lips that you have forgiven
•• Your faithful and unhappy
Edward.”
That very morning Emily left off her
shawl, aqd discovered that a walk would
do her good. The lovers met the next
day, each looking a little pale—which each
set down to their own account. Emily
returned to Allerton, and the town was
touched to the very heart by a constancy
that had stood such a test,
“Three months' absence,” as an old lady
observed, “is a terrible trial.” The guar
dians thought so too—and the marriage of
Emily Worthington to Edward Rainsforth
soon completed the satisfaction of the town
of Allerton. During the bridal trip, the
young couple were one wet day at an inn
looking over a newspapea* together, and
there they saw—the marriage of Aliss
Smith with the Earl of Elmsley—and of
Aliss Alford to Sir John Belmore. 1 never
heard that the readers made either of them
any remarks as they read. They return
ed to Allerton, lived very happily, and
were always held up as touching instan
ces of first love and constancy in the Nine
teenth Century. L. E. L. ■
During the late American war, a soldier from
the army at the northward, travelling on fur
lough through a part of Vermont, was hailed
from the door of a small house by an elderly
woman, who perceiving he belonged to the ar
my, inquired with the eager, but laudable cu
riosity which pervaded ail classes in those dis- i
tressing tames —“what news “Dreadful
news?” replied the waggish soldier. You
don’t, say so !” said the good lady—“ Fray tell
me what it is—have the regtilais beat our peo.
pie?” —“No—worse than all that,” said the
other—“a great body of Indians led on by Brit
ish officers, have assembled on the «estern
shore of one of the largest lakes, with huge
levers, with which they areabout to overturn
the lake, and deluge Vermont and al] New-
England.” “Bless me !” said she—“what will |
become of us!”—and immediately ran in great I
consternation to one ot her neighbors, a good !
plain man, but rather better i nformed ; to whom i
she. related the dreadful newa, trembling with !
terror. “Don’t be alarmed, my goo 1 friend,” j
said the neighbor—“there is no danger—lot; I
besid: ;, the natural impossibility ofsitch a thing, j
the Lord has made a promise and a sign, by |
which we are assured that he will not destroy
us with another deluge.” "The Lord i” ex
claimed the terrified woman—“//is fjord has
no hand in this business —i tell you it 's them
are plagucy Indians.” t
Hr. SPEECH,
(Os Tennessee,)
Upon the Resolution of Mr. Wise, proposing
a select committee of investigation, and Mr.
Pearce's motion to amend the same De
cernber 15.
Mr. Speaker:—l was, at first, somewhat
surprised that the gentleman from Rhode Is
land (Mr. Pearce) should be found in opposi
tion to this investigation. That gentleman
was once the zealous advocate of rfoid scruti
ny into all abuses committed by public func
tionaries. In an elaborate speech, upon this
floor, he once sustained an investigation simi
lar to the one now proposed by my friend from
Virginia (Mr. Wise.) I allude to the case of
the Wiscasset. Gollcctor. But, sir, the gentle
man announces the fact that he has changed.
He was then opposed to General Jackson
violently and bitterly opposed to him—and h>
manifested that opposition in conceiva
ble way. and upon every subject that arose.
But having now become a Jackson man, he has
undergone, it seems, a complete political traps
formation. And what a change ? his old prin
ciples discarded—his mentid vision in total
and disastrous eclipse, he has closed his eyes
upon fraud, and peculation, and plunder!
But, sir, Has it come to this, that the gentle
man from Rhode Island is put forward as the
champion of Andrew Jackson ? Has that dis
tinguished citizen already sunk so low tlifit his
fame and reputation are committed to tile keep
ing of such hands'? Oh, spectacle, mortify
ing and humiliating, to the honest friends and
original surmmjlcrs of Andrew Jackson ! those
who him, and voted for him ! who
advocated his first election upon prmciji’e, and
who, unlike the gentleman; yet stand up the
dauntless advocates of the same principles?
What, must they think, and how must they feel,
when they are informed that the President’s
reputation as a statesman has fallen into the
custody of that gentleman, who, formerly a
violent, loathed, and detested assailant; has
thr ivvn himself into the current of foe Presi-?
dent’s popularity, strong enough td bear even |
him along, and is now become his pretend'sd i
fulsoiiie eulogist and defender?
But, sir; to the gentleman’s olijeCtions, of fat
ther his pretended objections, to liie propdsed
inquiry. He lias given a striking specimen
of the cunning and tact of the Sect to wliich i
he belongs, hy the issue which he has made up '
—a false, hypocritical issue : What is it ?
Why, forsooth, that it. involves the President’s !
veracity ! that it will be—does the President
speak the truth when he says that all the offi
cers are “ honest” as well as capable ! mid
that he, good tender-hearted,tflan, cannot en
dure to hear any thing which infringes, in the
slightest degree, upon the veracity of that high
functionary ! Under this false and fraudulent I
issue tho gentleman takes shelter, and expects I
to escape all inquiry, all investigation. Is ar- [
gument required to expose a position so mon- |
strous? W ill not every high-minded man in j
tlie nation look upon it with scorn and indigna- j
tion ? Sir, 1 deny and denounce this as that 1
false isst e which has so lon<j been the shield ;
ot the party, and behind which they always :
skulk at the slightest approach of danger.
The President says they are honest, and the
gentleman savs you are not to prove them to
be rogues, because that, would be to make out
the President a liar. What a position !
Did the President write the paragrah in his
message, laudatory of these officers, which
the gentleman himself admits is unusual in
such a document, and which, I arri sure, has
no precedent or parallel? No. sir, not one
word of it. and he does net know, at this mo. ■
ment, that it is there. What is it, sir, which
these gentlemen, so able and so honest, have :
introduced into the message, and now claim ;
that it is evidence of so high and sacred a na 1
tore that it cannot beciitmined or impeached? ■
Here it is :
. ■ “ Before concluding this paper, I think it due
■ to the various Executive Departments to bear
r j testimony to their prosperous condition, and to
the ability and integrity with which tiiey have
i been conducted. It has been mv aim to en
force in all of them a igilant and faithful dis
charge of the public business; and it is grati
fying to me to believe that there is no just
. cause ot complaint, from anv quarter, at the
| manner in which they have fulfilled the objects
j. I of their creation.”
j! Did Andrew Jackson write this sweeping
. j certificate of moral character for these gentle
, t men ? No, sir; no. I plead ilon est factum.
jlt is not his deed. They hUVe fraudulently
, smuggled it into bis message, to evade scruti- l
,ny into their Conduct. Instead of stiffing in- I
i quiry, it is of itself a cause of suspicion. I I
■ say, sir, that the President did not write it: in |
I j support of which averment; I hate evidence'
i , satisfactory, at least, to my own mind, and such j
i , as should be macle known to this House, to !
> I the country at large, and to posterity. It j
. should thus be made known, in order to shield I
the name and tame of the President from that ■
. imputation which, in all time to come, would ’
ij attach to them, in consequence of this flagrant
. i abuse of the confidence reposed by him in oth-
: ers. The coffimittee on the part of the Sen- ,
j ate, which, according to usage, Was appointed
I to wait upon the President at the commenr-e- j
i ment of the session, and inform him of the
! readiness of Congress to receive the very rhes
’ I sage in question, foiinfl him extended on a Sick
couch, scarb. lv able to raise his hand. On
j thb eve of their departure, he urged tlie Sena
tor from Terinesseb (Mr. Grundy) to’Come
back soon and talk with him; that he was
lonesome, wanted bompany, and wished to
have his friends about him. The Senator
(alas, that it should be necessary for him to in
voke the attendance of friends, and of such
i friends!) did retur , and remained with the
President more than an hour, during which ;
time he never alluded to the subject of politics. I
He spoke of dying; of the Hermitage, of his
hope that he might be spared till he cotild I
reach it in the Spring. His thoughts wefe i
with his heart, “ and that finis far away;” dtfel- I
ling upon other and doubtless holier medita- t
tions than writing eulogies upon public func- I
tionaries, whose Conduct he was in no situa- i
j tion to examine, and who, if they tfere hon- t
) eSt, needed not his testimony to the fact. I
But the gentleman from Rhode Island has i
j another objection to tile mode of proceeding .
! proposed by my friend from Virginia. He j
I says that it is unnecessary, because, by the I
j standing Rules ot’ tlie House, ti.e investigation i
into al such matters is enjoined, as a duty! up- <
'on the committee of Ways and Means. The t
! Rule alluded to by the gentleman reads as fol- t
lows: “It shall be the duty of the Committee i
of Ways and Means to take into consideiation I
all such reports of the Treasury Department, s
and all such pronortitions relative to the reve- <
nuc, as may be referred to them by the Hbiise, t
vol. iv--vb,
&c. Ac. to examine into the state of the tett
ral public departments, and particularly info I* l ®
laws making appropriations of iiidneys, &)id
to report whether the moneys have been dis
bursed conformably with such and also
to report, from time to time, such provisfoni
and, arrangements as tilqv be necessHfjr so
to the economy of the Departments; the
accountability of their officers.” And ybl jrfo
Sientleman, in a subsequent part of his .argu
ment. contended that the exercise;by the HoilSe
of such a power as is hereby enjoined tfodd
one of its standing would Be tidisr
franchiseiiient of the heffils of Dejiartihenid.
An ex parts tfial and conviction, according id
the rules of the common law ! The Rule re
ferred to bv the gentleman shows the bn
tertained Gy the H-mse in relation to the iifo
cessity of such investigations ns the ose foo
posed into the state anil condition of the seve
ral Departments, with a vieiV tb tlie right ac
countabi ity of ptlßilc officers; and the legM
disbursement of foe public moneys!,,. , ,
But, sir, is the Committee of Ways anu
Means the appr >priate committee to make
9U, h examinations? Look at the past, HntV
long’» a ve complaints of malversation in offico
been r tr ging in the ears ot gentlemen ? Boole
at the son» a ti O u () f that coniipittee. Its entfif
tnan (Mr. Gnibreleng) labors under a politij
cal, if not a i»<r a l, dlsabilitv to institute and
conduct themwih efficiency* Dare he move
in such a cause ? No sir; lie woiild steal hid
fate forever. But, it‘hat committee weifo ibF
ced by the House into investigation, with
what hope of snefiess coufl we rely upon it?
The head of each Department would Baud fl
ver to the chairmaii of that cowtfiiittb!: Such it
statement as lie might choosS to Send here:
Whv, sir, it would he like the trial of Reilt
ben Whitney. Rcliben has iteeti trjedv ltnd| ad
you will he glad to h<snr, acqui|ffid, since the
last session. Bat how tried ? Not by a Coin*
mitteeof this House? No, sir, he was tried
on the. other side of the Alleghanies, whilaf
the witnesses and liie prosecutor were a ftißii•
sand miles off; tie was tried at Jonesboro’
Tennessee, before the President of the United
States; the prosecutor, not rfjy friend from
Virginia (Mr. Wise,) but one jiilin
who prosecuted Reuben so handsdlhely, that Be
has since bt.eri Rewarded by ml Hppointnient.'
Reuben was nrfalgried before tli ■ President id
a large crowd; the charges dgaindt him so
drawn up that they could all be ansd’ered irt
bis favor iVithodt touching die trill' i&ffie which
involved his guilt or innoeedl'e; 'l’iiey, in ef
fect, asked the President—fo’ Reuben a saint;
or is he a sinner ? “Huis a persecuted patri|
ot, sir; persecuted mi account of his oppqtil
tion to th : United States Bank.”
said thy, “ <lo you hear that ?” and the shout,*
huTT.th fd‘Reuben! was loud and long. But,'
sir, the gentleman choses to tf under from the
subject before the Hotlse, and carry this politi
cal war into Tennessee. This is contrary ♦<>
the policy of his State during the late war with
Great Britain. She then had a Higher regard
for State lines and State sovereignty : her pa
triotism was only comnicndUrulh with her
small IjrtiitS.
He represents the President, as going to the
Hermitage on private business, and seems to
justify al! which his party attempted to achieve
by the President’s visit to Tennessee. A
rate visit to the Hermitage! They scHrcety
i gave him time to sltyke hands d’lt'l the old fit:
■ mily servants at. tlie Hermitage; He washur
i ried from place to place, dragged along thro’
1 dust itnd heat to phblic meetings, at towns and
! villages; and cross roads, and country Strifes ;
carried through Tennessee and Alaoafha ;
brought back, and taken through Kentucky;
by the way of Cincinnati, to Washington,
The friends of Mr. Van Buren resorted to eve
ry art to excite and induce him to take an na
tive part in the election; and they now talk
of a private visit to t|ie Hcrrflitage ! Sir, I
was told this morning; ad 1 entered the Capi.'
tol. tii.tt dome one of the memlivrs from Ten
nessee denied certain facts which every qua
there knows to be true. I hope, sir, tlfdi flfl
such denial has been made. But, if it lias, I
stand ready to meet the gentleman, and main
tain the truth of those ficis any where. The
President availed the for the course which he
said 1 had pursued nt fe| lido t<i'tltb' Hill which
contained the appropriation to carry Into effect
the Cherol.ee treaty, before he left the eitv,
which complaint he frequently repealed on
way to the Hermitage. At Knoxville, rs gen.
tieman produced the Globe newspaper, which 1
showed that I had voted and spoken in favor
of that measure. But it had no effect, for he
continued to speak of it as he had done before.'
At Sparta, he denouubed my frie.d from Vir*.
j gmia, (Mr. Wise.) as a liar. At the house of
i .Mrs. Saucers, in Sdiii iris cou.ity. Tennessee;
I he stated that my colleague (Mr. Bell?) “told
' twenty lies in one Speech, and knew ffiemto bo
lies at the time and that Peytp'n ivas a grea.
■ ter liar than Bell. In passing tHfo'ugh the dis
trict of my collegue (Mr. Forester,) his vefy
able speech at tile last session of Congress ha
ving been mentioned, the President stated,'
> “that any man boiild get as good a speech as,
that ivritten at Washington for jive dollar
! When asked Ifofc' Mr. HuntsMaij was, iti rela
tion to political parties. “ lie’s da the fence,”
i said the General, “and no one kao vs which
| side lie will fall.” The constituents of ano.
tiler one of my colleagues inquired, “Well, 1
I General, what do you think o’s our rupresenta
i tive, Mr. Shields ?” “Oh !” said he, ** he’s of
no account; turn him out, tiod scud some one
in his place iHio is of sonte ifbcount.” I have
repeated these things, sir, not on accdiltit of
tiny pleasure they afford tf/fe, but because those
very gentlemen who were the cause of these
exhibitions tire how denying them, Let any
man deny this statement who dare.,
But the gentleman from Rhode Island calls
npon us to take “ the bull by the horns.” “to
move an impeachment against the President
at once”— Says that “he is ac’criu'utaMe for the
acts of his ministers," and any attack upon
them is in Effect an impeachment of him.”
, This is strange doctrink to me. sir." We wish
to rope these calfes. and drag them bleating
as they go from the Treasury, sos they have
been sucking too long already; arid the jren
tieman says no, “take the bull by the horns.”
Move an impeachment against the President"
indeed! He accountable, criniirialltf accoun’
table for the Want of integrity on the part of
his ministers ? Was there ever dnv thimr
more impudent than this ? Because Genen*
Jaclison is a patriot, does it follow th'tft Jteuhnn
M Whitney is any thing but i*hat tfib wortd
kntfws hi th to be ? ifecahse Genera! Jackson
is an honest man. does it folio# that Amos K<m.
dall, and all the other “ hirelings.” as he call,
them, are honest too? This, sir; is the doc
trine o the party-th'e doctrine of men intri
whose hands the government of the country
k S m' ■ Bu ‘’ sif ’ tl,e in thus
himself tinder the protecting manlie
of the 1 resident, but displays the usual tact of
the party to which he beloiigs. They afe tttf