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FOR Tilt: GEORGIA COURIER.
THE
,cor rr^iPETUoaiTir:
A COLLEGE TALE.
There are perhaps no recollections of
uthful scenes and occurrences, that
kc so deep and permanent an impres-
n, a3 those connected with the college
urse. When the young mind finds it-
|lf expanding into vigorous exertion, and
t beginning seriously to reflect upon
IJrrounding objects, and upon its own
pability.to form for itself opinions, sys-
ins and principles, it imbibes a degree
tf self-satisfaction or complacency, which,
u least for the moment, renders it happy,
’hen such a rich fie!d is open to its first
bits as the interesting incidents of a
^allege life, where so many sweet flowers
deck the path with pleasure, and so few
lorns impede the rapidity of its progress
ith difficulty or pain, it cannot but con
gratulate itself upon the advantages of its
filiation. Is it extraordinary then, that
after life these halcyon days of liberty
Jnd enjoyment, should often be remoni-
yiercil with sincere, heartfelt pleasure?
r is it surprising that many of the most
Hjrivial incidents, connected with it, should
e recalled to memory, with all the fond
ness of a. lover treasuring some little word
ijjir look of his absent mistress? The swept
J|tnd tender associations, so intimately
lended with them, render them all per-
anent, all valuable. The high impor-
ance attaciied to tliem at the moment, by
mind just beginning to appreciate, would
f itself render them extremely durable,
he friendships and attachments, the ri-
alships and feuds, although only of tern-
orary existence, are not forgotten, but
re all laid up in the store house of recol-
jiection.
II A college is a place of preparation for
the scones of life into which we imme
diately launch on leaving it, and is in fact
a miniature world in which are visibly and
plainly depicted all the passions, the pre
judices, and principles, which we after
wards discover in a larger and more ex
tensive scale. As in the larger so in this
petty society, the motives of action are
not plainly developed ; for such is the na
tural dishonesty of the human character,
that almost the first lesson we are taught
is one of disguise and concealment; but
the veil by which they are here concealed,
is not yet so thick, as to be impenetrable
by a discerning mind; and, if with the
experience he afterwards acquires, a
young man could again be admitted to
the private confidential circles of which
he once formed a constituent member,
he could read without difficulty almost
every motive of action. Ilenco an op
portunity, for the study of human nature
in its most interesting situation, offers it
self; when the character is just unfolding
itself to view, and when the deeper veils
of concealment have not been assumed.
In the varie: of talents, dispositions and
inclinations there disclosed by circumstan
ces, we discover the bent of each one’s
mind, and can almost lay down a correct
chart of his future history. There we
discover the boisterous ambition of the
future demagogue, who, profuse in his
professions of disinterestedness and friend
ship, thinks of nothing bui his own ad
vancement ; the more secret and covert
approaches of the little intriguer, destined
at sortie future day to become the subject
or the instrument of petty political con
troversy, swelling with the Imaginary im
portance of his character ; and the prying
impertinence of such as foolishly suppose
themselves adapted by nature to the law,
and strut by anticipation, in the over
whelming applause of their admiring au
dience. But on the other hand, the scene
is relieved by the greatest variety of noble
and generous dispositions; and there
friendship and love, as pure as when first
transplanted from heaven, generosity as
disinterested, and magnanimity as great,
as ever were exhibited on earth, are fre
quently shewn and render the scene al
most a paradise. The kind, peaceable
and benevolent dispositions, that make a
man a good companion, husband and
friend, are developed amidst the greater
luxuriance of more splendid, though not
more valuable, virtues, upon which are
built the hero, the statesman, and the
philosopher.
But what makes the life most agreeable,
is the anticipation of future eminence,
wealth, or happiness, which we there so
fondly entertain, and the disappointment
of which so frequently involves the sequel
of c ur li-es in misery, Tn reverting to
these . enes, we cannot but blame even'
the slight-.-st impatience that we then felt,
to rush from our state of preparation upon
the bro.ui s' ge of action, and almost wish
thai we ceui.i have been permitted for
ever t Joe; ..pon the bright visions our
happy 1 my ’ en created. Tiie rosy fin
gers of Aui i.-re had then just disclosed the
dawn of ur day, and promised the
delightful sue rise of joy, of honor,
and of happiness: we watched their in
crease with impafieiH, yet enchanting,
anticipations; we beheld the disc break
ing upon the regularity of the eastern
horizon, and slurring with refreshing and
brilliant beams;—it smiles on the tender
dew-drop that harms so lovely from the
mornintr fl r.-; it sheds abroad nothing
bn: felicity, unclouded by the slightest
tinge of discontent, and makes all nature
gladden to welcome the bright king of
day. in the fulness of our hearts, we in
dulge in rapturous expressions of delight,
and fondly say to ourselves, thus shall it
ever be with ns; the dawn of promise has
already ripened into a happy, unclouded
day; not a mist or shadow bangs over
our glorious patli; like the sun, wo have
burst forth from the trammels of infancy’s
night, upon an admiring world, and our
course shall be unimpeded, like his, to
the full blaze of meridian honor and re
nown. And when at length we share the
fate of all things human, and sink to rest,
our decline will only be the sweet evening
of a long day, and we will fall into repose
quietly and without regret, for our course
will then be accomplished and our sun of
life go down with undiminislied grandeur.
In the full tide of anticipated happiness,
we cannot stop to notice the little speck in
the distant horizon, which we think so in
significant, but which may increase to a
thunder cloud and overwhelm in an in
stant, the brittle fabric of our dreams. A
single moment may be sufficient to level
them to the dust, and render us miserable
for the rest of our lives, or else put a sud
den and violent end to them and to us,
and heap upon us the ignoble clods of an
obscure, neglected grave. Alas! how
many young men, just entering upon what
• they suppose a bed of roses, are stung by
! the hidden thorns, and by the cold asp,
i and then first awake upon the sad realities
I of life, with aversion and disgust. The
| disappointment sinks into the soul, usurps
the throne of felicity, and harrows up to
i despair, and too often they fall, the la-
I niented victims of disappointed .ambition
|and broken happiness.
These reflections frequently occur,
when I look around &, ask myself, where
are all those with whom I associated in
college? To attempt to trace their his
tory, would be vain; even a very few
years make a visible and lamentable va
cuum in the prospects, the expectations,
&n*d even in the livfis of many. No cir
cumstance, however, ever made so per
manent an impression or caused so many
solitary ruminations, as the extraordinary
circumstances of my connexion with one
of my class-mates and his melancholy fate.
Perhaps a sympathetic oye will bo mois
tened with a tear, or a feeling heart will
throb with pity, on hearing the story of
poor Francis. Very few now living are
acquainted with the facts, and those most
deeply interested have sunk into the
grave.
It was at that, period of the college
course when the student felicitates himself
upon entering the highest and last class,
that I became acquainted with a very in
teresting young man. He came to join
the class of which I was a member, and
finding in him many pleasing and conge
nial traits of character, I sought his socie
ty, and we soon formed an intimacy un
usual for so short an acquaintance. He
appeared noble, frank and brave ; his
j enerous heart oftoB throbbed with ardor
in the sacred cause of friendship, and his
eye was sometimes bedewed with a tear
at the misfortunes of others. His charac
ter and habits were more mature and set
tled than usual at his age, and although
he was frequently in company and showed
no marks of dislike, yet he did not appear
very fond of society. He seemed to seek
it as a refuge from thought; he was com
monly cheerful and sometimes even gay,
yet seriousness and melancholy were his
natural temperament, and his thin visage
and absent air shewed that he was not
happy. Yet ho never complained, and
when asked the cause of his depression,
an evasive answer was commonly return
ed, or else that he was not sensible of
any particular cause. I thought that lie
formed ono of those striking and affecting
instances of the melancholy of genius,
which are so peculiarly interesting, and
which enlist every feeling of the heart in
to sympathy for its possessor: hence I
took peculiar interest in his acquaintance,
and felt an ardent desire to divest that
habitual depression to which I feared his
spirits and health would at length fall a
prey. He frequently acknowledged with
gratitude my efforts for this purpose, even
when they were unsuccessful, and begged
me not to give myself any trouble about
one “who,” he said, “he thought had
been born for unhappiness.” He spent
three or four months in college before I
became any better acquainted with his
history or his misfortunes, than my own
conjectures could make me. His usual
silence and retirement never allowed him
to make any communication unsought;
my own delicacy prevented any question
on my part, and if the impertinent curi
osity of those not restrained by similar
motives, should disturb him for a moment,
a single glance of his penetrating eye was
sufficient to repress any farther advance,
j I was satisfied with the enjoyment of his
; society, and determined to remain so, un
til accident should reveal his history, if
indeed there was any thing hidden con
nected with it. My curiosity was, howe
ver, mostpowerfully excited by an incident
i that occurred about this time.
It was in the autumn of 1S2-, that I
was taking a long and solitary walk over i
the romantic hills that surrounded the \
place in which the college was situated.— |
My ruminations and the pleasantness of
the evening, caused me to stray far be- j
yond my usual walk. Every circumstance |
around seemed peculiarly conducive to j
the full indulgence of that soothing me- j
lancholy, which we are so apt to cherish j
and enjoy, when in a solitary moment the j
mind reverts to gone-by scenes, and calls j
upon memory for those stores of intellec- j
tual enjoyment, so beautifully described as
being “ pleasing and mournful to the soul.”
The woods around no longer presented
the gay green garb of spring, or the more
intensely green foliage of midsummer;
but the the languor that hung around and
showed itself in every leaf in the slightest
degree tinged with yellow, was extremely
interesting. The whispering of the gen
tle breeze, which cast a few of those leaves
to the ground, and seemed to tell sur
rounding nature that winter was approach
ing; the silence, the solitude that perva
ded would have afforded matter for mor
alizing to one far less predisposed than
myself. What an apjffopriate emblem, I j
thought, of all things human: our friend
ships, our love, our hopes, and every af
fection of our hearts, have their spring of
promise, their summer of completion and
accomplishment, their autumn of decline,
their winter in extinction. Our very lives
have all these variations, and notwith
standing the bright anticipations of their
spring, the warm luxuriance of their sum
mer, they infallibly close in the chill and
gloomy winter of death. I was long en
grossed in such reflections, and felt indeed
that kind of innate sovereignty, that is
most perceptible when one, almost un
conscious of surrounding circumstances,
has involved his whole heart and thoughts
in the deepest meditation.
I thought myself well acquainted with
the paths and roads through the woods,
but wiien at length fatigue restored me in
some measure to a knowledge of my situa
tion, I fouud that I was completely lost.
I knew that I had wandered far, but so
absolutely bewildered were my senses,
that I could not imagine the course that
would lead me home, nor the actual dis
tance I had gone. Still uncertain, I was
wandering about with the hope of disco
vering some known object that would di
rect my course, -when I was rejoiced to
hear the sound of footsteps approaching.
I turned and saw a man making most ra
pid strides towards me, and advancing
with hurried, heedless impetuosity. So
sudden was his approach, that I had
scarcely time to observe that he appeared
to labor under the influence of violent ex
citement. In fact his countenance was
so completely wrought up into a display
of internal violence, that I could not but
think that some maniac had escaped from
confinement, and was roaming in that un
fortunate condition, ignorant and heedless
of his danger. But on a nearer view of
his features, I thought L recognised those
of my friend, notwithstanding their distor
tion ; and the belief was indefibiy impress
ed upon my mind, that this person was no
other than Francis . My view of
his person was, however, so fleeting and
transient, that I could not absolutely de
termine in my own mind, and he had al
most gone beyond the reach of my voice
before my astonishment allowed me to
call his name; and when I called with a
loud voice, the only answer I received
was the mocking echo. I pursued with a
quick pace, but all my efforts were only
sufficient to keep within sight of him, and
sometimes I could ascertain where he was
only by the distant sound of his receding
footsteps. When I could catch a glimpse
of him, he appeared totally unconscious
of my pursuit; yet the vehemence of his
gesticulation shewed that he was influen
ced by the strongest feelings. I soon lost
every trace of him, (such was his rapid
flight,) and hopeless of overtaking him, I
advanced to the top of a hill, on the side
of which I last had heard him. From this
commanding situation, however, I obtain
ed a distant view of the colleges, which
served to put me in the proper direction
to reach home. The distance to which I
had strayed was much greater than I sup
posed, and at the same time the sight of
the setting sun gave me no comfortable
feelings, with regard to my return. Un
der other circumstances I could have ga
zed with delight upon the magnificence
of the scene, and patiently waited to re
ceive from the great dispenser of light and
heat, the last ray of his majestic decline,
as if a parting blessing; but when the bo
dy and mind are both fatigued, it is no
time for the enjoyment of the beauties
and splendors of nature.
[to be continued.}
—■ -
JLW ADDRESS
TO THE FREEMEN OF 31 ARYL AND,
From a Convention of Delegates appointed by
the people of the State, friendly to the re-elec
tion of JOHN QUINCY ADAMS, as President
of the United States, and held in the City of
Baltimore, on the 23d day of July, 1827.
An appeal to the people upon matters
of great National concern, is a proceeding
that accords with the highest sense of re
spect for public.sentiment, and is in entire
consonance with the principles of Repre
sentative Government. Happily living
under a government of opinion, we must
always expect that contests of opinion
will arise, and it becomes us to enter into
such conflicts with the fearlessness that
marks freemen—with the just deference
for the opinion of others that distinguishes
those who are in quest of truth and with
a decorum that belongs to the character
of our country.
A meeting of our fello v-citizens oppos
ed to the existing Administration of the
Federal Government, havingbeen recent
ly held in this City, for the purpose of
diffusing among the people of the State,
that spirit of discontent, which marks the
manifesto they have issued, and of rous
ing them to eject the present President of
the United States from office, arul to sub
stitute General Andrew Jackson in his
place. It is from this decision, and Irom
the opinions and motives which sustain it,
that we now appeal ; and we desire to lay
before the dispassionate good sense of the
freemen ot Maryland, the reasons of our
dissent.
Implicit obedience and non-resistance
to a ruling power is no part of our politi
cal creed—we neither inherit such princi
ples from our ancestors, nor imbibed them
in any of our schools. The freedom of
opinion and of action, is with us a cardin
al maxim that we are zealous to maintain
in its amplest vigor—yet we think it wise
to repress unnecessary contests in our
country, that can lead to no public good,
aad particularly such as are calculated to
produce the greatest excitement through
out the Republic. If we could always be
sure that these contests originated purely
and exclusively from public views, and
found no sustenance in personal prejudi
ces, private feelings, or in the hope of in
dividual aggrandizement, there would be
less danger—for the sense of public duty
alone will seldom carry men beyond cor
rect boundaries, unless coupled with an in
flammatory fanaticism that defies restraint.
In tu enmuiyuuu
fore us, we must be calm and sincere.
The question is of too serious importance
to permit our predelections and prejudices
to be enlisted in fi^rvic^ th? passions
are rift agents ttfTxTtrusted in so grave a
matter. Neither the dazzling power of
military exploit, nor the rich stores of intel
lectual'learning, roust be permitted to be
guile us on this occasion. Tho welfare of
the Republic is at stake, and if we under
take to act in that behalf, let us divest
ourselves as far as possible, of all that may
lead to error ; and regardless of men, de
vote ourselves to the cause of the country
with the strictest fidelity.
Necessarily led to take some view of the
present Chief Magistrate of the country
and of his measures, as also of the distin
guished Soldier who is brought in opposi
tion, and of his character, wo are not dis
posed to indulge in fulsome eulogy or un
merited reproach. Called to lay our
views of a great National question before
the people, we shall treat these distin
guished citizens with becoming respect,
and discharge the duty confided to us with
integrity and firmness.
In resisting the pretensions set up by
the advocates of General Jackson to ena
ble hint to supplant the present Chief Ma
gistrate, it would be severest injustice to
consider us wanting, either in respect for
the services, or in admiration for the suc
cess of that celebrated Military Chieitain.
In these points we are not less sensitive
than hia -rvarixicat oupporters ; and we are
again ready, as we have always been, to
celebrate the victory at New Orleans,
and to do honor to the intrepid hero who
directed it; and should our country un
fortunately be placed in a state of war be
fore his manly vigor and military taste
shall decline, such is our confidence in his
patriotism, that we should be happy to see
him associated with the gallant defenders
of our country, under the direction of an
able and firm Administration.
In scrutinizing the life of Gen. Jackson,
we see nothing that would justify us in
considering him qualified for the Chief
Magistracy cf this country ; and we mean
not to sully, or to withhold any just tribute
to his merits by the declaration, that, but
for the happy victory at New-Orleans, he
never would have been thought of as one
of those from whom a selection is to be
made to fill the Presidential Chair. If a
single brilliant victory is a sufficient claim
upon us to elevate a mere military man to
the highest civil office, over the heads of
all others, be their qualifications what they
may, then indeed the pretensions of the
General are strong—but if, as we confi
dently believe, the sound discriminating
good sense of the American people will
consider many other important qualifica
tions as essential to fit a man for the Chief
Magistracy of this nation, we have yet to
learn that the General possesses them.—
As a member of the Bar, of the Bench, of
the State Convention, of the Congress, he
has never exhibited himself above the
level of ordinary men ; and if in the civil
stations to which he has been called, he
has been in no manner distinguished by
the plaudits of his country, it was because
his country was unacquainted with any
peculiar merit that he had displayed.—
His only talent lies in military life, and
there he appears capable of rendering
good services to the Republic, and of ga
thering fame for himself. But even in
military life he has committed errors that
should warn us against considering him
best qualified for the highest civil station
in the Government—errors at several
times, emanating, no doubt, from consti
tutional hardihood, and an ardent zeal in
his country’s service, but which were all
calculated to diminish the sanctity of the
civil authority.
The adherents of the General, in their
zeal to support him, have adventurously
attempted to draw a parallel between him
and the illustrious Founder of this Repub
lic—stating, that if General Jackson’s
exhibitions of greatness have hitherto been
only Military, those of Washington, be
fore ho was called to the Presidential
chair, were no more—and that as the be
lief of Washington’s competency to gov
ern as Chief Magistrate, was founded upon
his military conduct, that of General
Jackson rests upon similar grounds. Let
us not yield to the feelings that this paral
lel is calculated to excite ; we will treat
it more gravely, and reason on it and ex
pose its fallacy*
General Jackson’s renown is exclusive
ly derived from the victory at New-Or-
loans, and his rash energies in the wars
with the Indians—his correspondence re
lates entirely to the limitad duties of the
Military service he was then engaged in,
and is marked by no deficiency of talent—
further than this, we know of no other
pretentions of the General to extraordin
ary distinction. To compare this minia
ture, presented by his friends, with the
grand historical painting of Washington’s
life,before his call to the Chief Magistracy,
that covers the walls of all Christendom,
is doing injustice to General Jackson by
an extravagant attempt. Not stopping to
compare one lucky victory that rescued a
city, with a brilliant seven years’ warfare,
that redeemed a People, and gave birth to
an Empire, through every day and every
event of which, the most dispiriting priva
tions, the most hazardous conflic s, the
most appalling dangers and trying diffi
culties were encountered and surmounted
by a perseverance as temperate as it was
brave, and by a skill as well directed as it
was masterly. Washington’s Military
campaigns are, from first to last, continu
ally interspersed with the strongest eviden
ces of his profound and statesmanlike
mind, which now constitute some of the
richest treasures in the American Ar
chives.
It was not his successes at Trenton,
at Princeton, at Monmouth, at Yorktown,
or at any of his well fought fields, that
called him to the Chief Magistracy—It
was his long and arduously tried fidelity,
his uniform temperance under trials, his
“ invariable regard to the rights of the
civil power, through all disasters and
command—It was ihe direction he con
stantly gave to the political councils of the
country, by his wise and patriotic advice
when he was guiding the armies—It was
those master-pieces of political wisdom,
his addresses to the Governors of the sev
eral States, that are now read almost with
the admiration of inspired writings, that
fixed every eye and every heart upon
Washington, as Chief Magistrate of the
United States.—And in looking back up
on his life, anterior to the year 1789, it is
hard to tell, whether his merits as a soldier,
were higher than those of a statesman—but
of this the world are assured, that neither
military power nor success ever made him
arrogant, nor induced him even to a doubt
ful excess. His military life was the lof
tiest example, under all circumstances, of
the most temperate exercise of power—
of strictest subordination to civil authori
ty anc j whilst the heated passions or
deep designs of others seduced them to
attempt acts of insubordination, Washing
ton allayed tho rising storm, and calmly
offered himself as a voluntary hostage for
his country, that the wrongs of his brother
soldiers should be redressed.
If General Jackson suffers in this con
trast, it is owing to the imprudence of his
friends—we have done no more than to
perform a duty to the man who was chief
in the hearts of all, whose fame must no*
be hewed down to reduce him to the di
mensions of others, or to subserve the
schemes of combinations that are daring,
or of ambition that is aspiring.
From this view we will turn to offer the
reasons and inducements which render us
contented with the existing administration
of the country—And hero we will frankly
declare, that neither favoritism on the one
hand, nor antipathy on the other, have
any influence over us—For we do not re
member to have been called, on any oc
casion, to decide a great national question,
more free from every bias that would be
likely to lead us astray : No circumstance
has ever occrred to give rise to a personal
predilection that wo could indulge, and
surely we can have no prejudices against
the Hero of New Orleans.
If it had fallen to our lot to have enter
tained personal attachment in this case,
which we openly disavow, we know that
we should find a great palliative in the
universal concession, that such attach
ments are always venial, and therefore we
should not disown it. But if we thought
we were guided by unfavorable prejudices,
wo should distrust ourselves as led on by
the most dangerous of all impulses. For
prejudice is either a volunteer that springs
up without thought, and leads to error
without examination, or it is the weed of
the mind that overshadows the heart with
its deleterious foliage <fc forbids the growth
of every useful germ—it disqualifies those
who wear it—it never fails to tyrannize
over those against whom it may be direct
ed. Our feelings arc not enlisted on this
occasion—we are guided by our soberest
understanding, and we prefer Mr. Adams,
as President, because he is confessedly,
both from education and employment
throughout his life, the most capable in all
respects—and he therefore furnishes the
best and safest grounds to expect the most
able and beneficial discharge of the ardu
ous duties of the exalted station. Beyond
this, we have neither wish, nor end, nor
aim.
A magnanimous people will never with
hold the meed of praise that is justly due
to the accomplished qualifications or mer
itorious services of a fellow-citizen—but
a high minded people, who, in all their
public acts, keep the national welfare
steadily and singly in view, are a little
scrupulous of wasting themselves in pane
gyrics upon those they design to lift to pa
tronage and power. It is therefore we
shall not dwell upon the widely known
facts of Mr. Adams having received in
early life, the best and most extended ed
ucation this country could afford—of his
unvarying habits of reflection and study—
of his being intimately and particularly
conversant with the public measures of
this country for the last forty years—of
his high rank among the men of learning
of the world—or of the pledges which are
given in his uniformly unexceptionable pri
vate character, throughout his whole life.
But we shall maintain our opinions and
preference on public grounds alone, and
upon reasons and views which exclusively
appertain to the prosperity of the people
and the glory of the country.
The work of man, however admirable,
is necessarily imperfect; and there is no
part of our excellent Federative system
which the forecast of its authors and the
reflecting wisdom of those who ratified it,
thought would be so likely in time to en
danger its existence, as the election of
Chief Magistrate. Although our form of
government was in some parts new, and
in others an improvement upon things
which had existed before, yet the princi
ple of an elective Chief Magistrate was
not new, and whilst we were to partake
of the advantages of that feature, we were
unavoidably exposed to some of the evils
to which it had been found subject—a-
mong the greatest of which is the train of
incidents inevitably flowing from the fre
quent recurrence of contests between ri
val candidates for that high station. Nor
did the founders of the government expect
to ward off these evils so much by the
limitations and proportions with which
they fashionod this part of the constitution
relating to the appointment of President,
although less objected to than any other
part of that charter.— They had a stron
ger, and as they thought, a safer reliance
upon the sober minded character of the
people who were to earry it into effect—
in their love of order, their sagacity to
discriminate, and in their intelligence and
firmness to resist every thing that had a
tendency to impair the system.
Jealousy, stiife, and local feelings are
the dangers against which we have been
particularly counselled by our illustrious
political Father, and these, unfortunately,
are the probable attendants upon a con
test for the Presidential Chair. So long
confined to Revolutionary worthles, there
was much in the chatacter of our admira
tion for those Patriots, as well as in the
youthful purity of our institutions that for
bade these iucidental evils to arise. Wc
have now exhausted that store of worth,
and have come to men nearer to our
times, who, whatever may be their merits,
can never experience the unwonted de
votion that was paid to their predeces
sors.
Fertile as our country is in the growth
of distinguished men, and propitious as
our government is to display them, the
expansion of empire, the progress of
science, and the increase of population
must necessarily augment the number of
favorites, and meretorious favorites too
who will engross the affections and con
fidence of their respective sections of
country. From the operation of this af
fection and confidence, local attachments,
and jealousies, and contests will arise!
and, without a check, the nation will
quadrennially be thrown into agitation
that will become most alarming.—To
guard against this impending terror we
have nothing to rely on but the salutary
influence of established custom, which
being founded in wise precaution, in a na
tion of intelligence easily acquires force.
The first President of the United States
having voluntarily retired from office at
the expiration of his second term, that
voluntary retirement has been construed
into an example that has been implicitly
followed by every successor Who had an
opportunity of doing so and has boon ap
proved of bv the People.—Under the
sanction of this usage, will it not be wise
and prudent to establish (he system of re
electing a Chief Magistrate for a second
term, except in cases, where the qualifica
tions of tho opponent are known to be
greatly superior to those of the incumbent
—or, where the course of administration
is palpably and fatallv prejudicial to the
true interests of the country? In the last
case, any change is to be sought, and anv
hazard will be worthily encountered to
extinguish the existing evil.
But we demand with frankness and we
expect to be answered with candor, if
such a state of things, or it such a necessi
ty now exists in our country ? Is it even
pretended that it does? lias the Oppo
sition to Mr. Adams been nndertaken by
the friends of Genoral Jackson, because
it is known that General Jackson possess
es all tho necessary qualifications for the
Presidential office, in a superior degree to
what Mr. Adams does? Or because the
measures of Administration .ore bad, and
that they expect snch defects will be re
medied by a different course of adminis
tration likely to he pursued under Gene
ral Jackson? Or was this Opposition
determined on anterior to the develop
ment ot any measure by this Administra
tion ? Or did it originate in a predeter-,
mined intent to eject a man from office,
who, notwithstanding the generally mild,
judicious and able course of his measures,
has been so unfortunate as not to have
propitiated those who were resolved ne
ver to he appeased ?
This brings us fairly to the considera
tion of the objections urged by tiie Oppo
sition, and to the exceptions taken to a
few specified measures.
Tho first and chief objection urged
against Mr. Adams, as promulgated through
the presses, and reiteraYed by the late
Jackson Convention is, “ that he was
made President against the will of the
people,” and they have attached to this
point in their manifesto, as well as to
others, the most copious notes and com
mentaries to illustrate and explain the
meaning of so dark a position.
Wjth all the aid of tho piiosphoricak
glare which a political chymistry has
shed npon this matter, we are still at a
loss to see under what pretext this objec
tion is made, unless it is, that Mr. Adams
had not the greatest number of votes
when brought to the House of Represen
tatives. But the constitution, by its un
qualified and direct injunction, requiring
the Representatives to choose a President
“ from the persons having the highest
numbers, not exceeding three,” without a
shadow of reference either to the fore
most or to any particular one of them—
the three candidates with tiie highest num
bers stand before the Representatives
House as if tied, upon a perfect equality,
to be judged of by them as by a new body
of electors, who are to decide upon “ the
man who, in their opinion, may be best
qualified for the office.” To require the
Representatives to be governed by the
will of the people in this case, is to re
quire them to be governed by what they
have no means of knowing—for when the
electors of a state have not voted for one
of the three highest candidates—or when
the electors of a state are equally divided,„
perhaps between two, neither having the
highest numbers, how can the Represen
tatives know the popular preference ?—*
The rule of obligation, if derived from tho
constitution, must be general or not at all
—but a rule which requires a representa
tive to do what he has no means of ascer
taining, and to ascertain which no means
are furnished him, is a palpable incon
sistency', and must be disowned. Thus
the Opposition, in obedience to the Con
stitution, would refer the election to the
House of Representatives, and at the same
time deny to its members the right of
making it—an absurdity too gross for
commentary. The constitution present
ing three candidates to their considera
tion, evidently meant to give the Repre
sentatives a right of choice ; and we are
taught by the contemporaneous exposition
of that constitution* that that choice was
intended to be guided by the respective
qualifications of the candidates presented
to the House of Representatives by the
electoral colleges. To say that such an
election, in strict conformity with the let
ter and the established meaning of the
constitution is made against the will of the
* Messrs Jay. Hamilton, and Madison’s Fede
ralist
EDGE CUT OFF